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morimakesfanart · 3 years

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Sindria's Prophet #14

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[AO3]

~POV Mori~

I woke up when it was still dark out. Only the faintest light came in my windows.

I hadn't done anything yesterday. Just laid down and rested for the first time in a long time. The doctor's were convinced I needed one more day of rest, but I knew I was already better. When was the last time I had just let my body rest like that when I wasn't sick? I couldn't remember. This peace was nice.

The quiet of sunrise was only broken by the faint sound of bird calls in the distance. I sat up and closed my eyes. I focused everything on my other senses. I couldn't hear the ocean easily from here. I had wanted to use the sounds of the waves to meditate, but I would just have to do without.

It had been a few days since I last checked in with myself and really focused inward. I could still feel them, all of the Black Rukh that had merged with me back in Balbadd. They were much calmer than before. And they felt like a part of me now, like I might be incomplete if they were suddenly gone. I knew each one from the dreams too. Their lives were mine and each also now knew my life as their own.

Going through all of their lives on the ship would have been painful even without being sick. These were angry souls and they did not welcome the inner peace I was offering easily, but a person's Rukh doesn't lie. After reading this world's truth through my memories they all calmed.

All of us lived lives of loss and poverty and trauma. That must have been another part of why we were able to fully merge in such a short time.

As Black Rukh they couldn't return to the Great Flow where the rest of their loved ones were, but they at least had each other within me.

It was a very strange feeling.

And along with their lives and Rukh, their magoi was also now mine. What had felt like a small pool now felt like a large lake. I had a lot more magoi at my disposal now that they were fully integrated with me.

The Great Bell range and I grounded myself in the present.

Only then did it occur to me that I was probably sick, and suffering from the influx of Rukh separately at the same time. It had been both all along. Whatever illness I had was worsened by my situation with the Rukh. I hadn't lost my magoi manipulation during it, but it was probably learning it ahead of time that had saved me. There's no way such a large amount of Rukh entering me wouldn't have made my body unstable.

Would the doctors understand if I explained it to them? I should ask Sinbad before saying something unnecessary.

The dim light from my windows called to me. I got out of my bed, put on my glasses, and sat on the sill of one them at the encouragement of the waves.

Like this, I could look down and see the Palace court yard. On the other side of the court yard were the Silver Scorpio (martial arts training), and Black Libra (libraries & schools) Towers, behind them to the left was the Red Cancer Tower (military) and fully to the left was the Purple Leo Tower where Sinbad lived. Since I was on a high floor I could easily see all of the towers of the Palace from my windows -all except the White Capricorn Tower where Ja'far does most of his work since that building was on the other side of this one.

It was so strange. Looking at all this made it real that I was really here. How many times had I reread or rewatched scenes wondering what it would feel like to be here?

I rested my head on the window frame as I watched the growing light from the sunrise.

The guards changed.

The sun was fully risen. Ja'far would be waking up Sinbad soon if he hadn't already.

Two people walked out of the Purple Leo Tower -a guard and a woman. She wasn't wearing a uniform. In fact she was wearing less than the citizens I saw the other day.

"Oh, right."

Sinbad has a call girl see to him after Ja'far wakes him up.

I had the 3rd fan book for the anime which contains a day-in-the-life for a bunch of the main characters. It was only in Japanese, but I had learned enough (and could look up what I didn't know) to at least read his schedule.

The direct translation was for a "temporary woman" which from what I've found is the Japanese term for a fem sex worker. I've seen some translations for Magi's extra material refer to them as "call girls" so that was the term I chose to use.

The franchise used the word "harem" in a bunch of places, but purposely didn't use it here. That combined with an omake of Sinbad having a nightmare about being married and having a harem made it clear that Sinbad did not have a harem; he had the whole red-light district of his country to choose from.

Hold on... That book wasn't supposed to reach my house until after I had Isekaied so how did I know it's contents? There were barely any scans or photos of pages online-

*Knock knock*

My thoughts

were cut off when breakfast arrived -with more medicine of course.

---

~POV Sinbad~

Nearly a week had passed since King Sinbad had arrived home. There was a lot to catch up on. As much as he wanted to finally relax after everything that happened in Balbadd he didn't really have the time for it. Even after catching up he would still have to prepare for his trip to the Kou Empire. And Ja'far wasn't letting him forget either responsibility.

None of this stopped him from having his slow mornings. He at least gave himself that little slice of heaven.

This was business as usual -at least it was supposed to be- but Sinbad couldn't shake a growing feeling that he couldn't name. It was making him unsettled. The waves didn't give him any answers and drinking hadn't made it go away. It felt similar to missing important.

He wasn't missing any paperwork. There had been an issue with one of their supply ships going missing, and another being delayed, but he had already decided how to proceed. He was definitely interested in the progress the Black Libra Tower was making with testing Mori's theories, but the experiments would take time and they had already scheduled a meeting for an update. The new guests were still settling in. Alibaba was a mess and Aladdin was only marginally better the last time he had visited, but Morgiana was fine and already training with Masrur regularly. According to the doctors reports, Mori would be better in another day or so, and the reports he got from the maids said she was resting every day after giving that partial scroll.

Maybe this was impatience. Aside from his paperwork, everything interesting was either done or waiting for the next step.

Sinbad often walked his country in the evening, but there was no reason he couldn't check on things now. He didn't have time to go for a walk at that moment, but he could spare the magoi needed to use Zepar and fly around the country using the bird he had possessed with the Djinn's power. This wouldn't be the first time he'd done this while working on paperwork.

The bird was sitting on a railing in the city center when Sinbad took over. From this spot he could make some quick rounds in the city and then maybe make a stop in the Black Libra Tower to get a sneak peak at what they had found out so far.

The same old gossip filled most of the streets. Some price complaints, who just had a child, how work was going...

"You're serious? A prophet?”

"My husband saw the scrolls she made from her visions with his own two eyes."

Now that was new gossip.

Sinbad had the bird land near by the two women.

"Oh? What was in them?"

"He said it was like reading secrets of the world."

"Really???"

"Mhmm." She nodded. "Not everyone believes it though so they are all working to test her writing."

"Didn't you just say she was brought in by our King? Do they really think he'd be fooled by some false prophet?"

"I said the same thing! And you know what my husband said? He said that they need to find proof even if they believe the Prophet because otherwise we won't be able to prove it to our allied countries."

"I guess that makes sense..."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oh! I think I might know what she looks like!”

"What? How? You only learned about her just now."

"When King Sinbad came home, there was a girl on some magical flying cloth, remember? That has to have been the Prophet!"

"I think you're right!"

To two moved on to some other gossip and King had the bird fly towards the Palace. Listening to talk about his Beautiful Prophet reminded him of his mission to peek at what was happening in the Black Libra Tower. Being able to bypass the stairs and the gates made the journey much faster.

The Sun was already in the western side of the sky. Shadows were cast onto the court yard from the Black Libra Tower. The stone of the Green Sagittarius Tower was nearly blinding white from the direct light. Color flashed in the corner of his eye as the bird flew past the upper levels of the guest tower. Before his thoughts had fully registered the familiar shade of nearly black indigo, Sinbad was guiding the bird to investigate. He landed on the railing of one of the windows and looked at the young woman resting against that same window's frame.

Mori looked just as surprised to see a bird land right in front of her as he was to be there. Sinbad had purposely been avoiding using Zepar to spy on Mori since she somehow knew that he had eavesdropped on her before. It had been days since he last saw her, so when she was suddenly an option-

"Heh hehe"

Mori's chuckle and smile took his full attention. He didn't know what had made her laugh, but he hoped she'd do it again.

"Sir, are you aware you are a bird?” After the words passed her lips she was struck by a giggle fit.

Sinbad had no idea what she was thinking or why she had said that to a bird, but he was hearing her voice for the first time in nearly a week so he'd worry about figuring it out later.

When Mori finished laughing at her own joke she leaned her head to the side and watched him. Her hair shifted and another lock spilled over her shoulder. The sight brought attention to the low neckline of the dress she was wearing. If Sinbad was there in person he would have brushed her hair out of the way just to have an excuse to touch her.

"Did you miss me that much?" Her voice was soft and a bit playful. "You didn't have to use Zepar to visit me."

Mori knew it was him! Sinbad jolted and his head hit the back of his chair in his office. How could she tell? Only magicians could see magoi and Rukh to see the spell active on the bird.

"Sin, is something wrong?-” Ja'far had just entered the room to give his afternoon report.

King Sinbad raised a hand for him to be quiet and tapped Zepar's ring to explain the situation. He didn't want to talk and miss something Mori said or did.

The General's expression turned serious and nodded as he went quiet.

When Mori didn't get a response from the bird she added, "Are you surprised that I knew it was you?" Her smile was warm as the sun. "I have read your Fate many times, so I will always recognize you, my King."

Normally, the idea that someone could see through Zepar's magic would concern him, but this didn't. It strengthened his belief that Fate had guided Mori to him.

And the affectionate way she said "my King" at the end made him smile. The waves had moved like this a few times like the last time he had seen her in person, and when he learned she could also feel the waves. The Great Flow of the Rukh was guiding them to the Fate he could see, the one where she lived the rest of her life by his side.

Ja'far sighed. "Just let me know when I can give you my report."

Mori whipped her head towards the door to her room. "They're here early."

There were the sounds of people walking in the hallway, but no voices to denounce who, or their destination. All the same, Mori got up and walked to the door. She opened it before the doctors had a chance to knock.

"How did you...?" One of the doctors asked.

"I recognized the sound of your footsteps," was her answer.

"I see.... And how are you feeling today?"

Mori walked into her room, and spared a glance at the bird still watching her from the window. "I feel fine. Just like yesterday." She turned back towards the door and sat on the edge of her bed. "So can I finally leave this room?"

The doctors were understanding but they still were going to do a full check up first.

Even without the waves it was obvious that Mori was going to be marked as full health. Sinbad would prefer to go see her immediately and give her a tour of the Palace personally, but he was still a King with responsibilities. "Ja'far, Mori has just been declared healthy. What do you think of everyone having dinner together to get everyone better aquatinted?"

"I didn't hear anything about-” Ja'far started and then cut himself when he realized. "Were you just using Zepar to spy on her??"

"Of course not." Sinbad said with all of the confidence of the King he was. "I flew directly to her and she recognized me instantly. I wasn't spying at all."

"She recognized you??" Of course he'd be shocked.

King Sinbad laughed. "She did. Though she was surprised to see me."

"I bet she was surprised to suddenly see a bird in her room. What made you think to use Zepar instead of visiting her in person? You're already getting regular reports on her condition." Ja'far always acted as a buzz kill.

It didn't stop Sinbad from laughing at the situation before finally asking for that report he postponed earlier -conveniently avoiding answering Ja'far's question.

The magician in Mori's room was talking. "Would you be interested in visiting the Black Libra Tower with us? We can show you how the experiments are going. And if possible, would you be willing to answer some questions?"

That was an understandable request, but it could wear her out.

The Prophet was facing away from the windows so Sinbad couldn't see her expression. "I'd really like that actually." But he could hear the excitement growing in her voice.

"Let me get changed real quick." Mori disappeared behind her folding wall and emerged in the outfit he met her in.

Sinbad did not drop control of the bird, but he also didn't follow Mori out of her room. Instead he waited in the window sill until he saw her enter the courtyard and then had the bird fly to the Black Libra Tower.

---

As soon as he finished whatever last minute things Ja'far was about to add to his pile, Sinbad would go to the Black Libra Tower and surprise his Beautiful Prophet in person.

~POV Mori~

In the manga and in the anime the only areas shown of the Black Libra Tower were Yamuraiha's office/lab and one of the libraries. I was more than curious about the rest of the facilities.

The first room seemed to be a reception area and had a map of the tower. I only got to glance at the separations between the libraries, offices and class rooms before a tall and lanky magician walked up to us.

"Is this her??” Her short ponytail bounced as she looked between me and my guides.

Isa, the magician who had been taking care of me the past few days, introduced me. "This is Lady Mori, the Prophet!” He acted like he was showing off the coolest toy on the playground.

The tall woman got right up in my face. "I knew she had to be the Prophet! The Rukh don't normally move this way around people."

Before I got to respond she started rambling comments and questions that covered everything in maroon and peacock blue getting sponged across a cream canvas. I stepped back and Isa cut her off. "Lady Mori will be answering everyone's questions in time. We were just on our way to see Yamuraiha so I can show her how everything has been coming along. You are welcome to join us."

She definitely joined us. As did many others who spotted us or were called over by others in our procession.

We walked through a few library areas, and up a few flights of stairs. As we passed various rooms and areas I was told what or who would be inside, but I wouldn't remember any of the specifics until I had a chance to use the space and explore on my own. What did stick was that most of the classrooms were next to the libraries and the labs were near the offices.

Yamuraiha must have heard our group from down the hall because her head popped out from one of the rooms ahead of us. "What is going on out here??” Then she made eye contact with me. "It's you!!"

That made me smile. I fought back responding 'it's me!' like I would with my friends. "I'm Mori. I'm glad I'm finally getting the chance to meet you, Yamuraiha!” I stopped walking when I got 3 yards/meters away.

She immediately pulled her staff against her chest with both hands. Her shoulders tensed but she had an enthusiastic smile. "The pleasure is all mine!"

Yamuraiha was amazing, smart, and endearing. I really wanted to be friends with her.

I out stretched my hand to shake hers. "I'm really excited to work with you, and learn more about magic even though I'm not a magician."

"The feeling is mutual!” She took my hand more than matching my excitement. And when she released it said, "Since you're here, would you like to see what we've been working on from the scrolls you gave us?"

"Yes please!”

---

The lab she lead us to was a little down the hall. All of my scrolls were spread out on one table and a bunch of notes and different materials were on an other.

Yamuraiha pulled out parchment that had a complicated magic circle written on it. "We can't do much yet, and it still takes a catalyst and many magicians at once to control the amount of magoi safely but our alchemy magic has made a breakthrough from your writing."

She asked a few of the magicians that came with me to join her. They pointed their staffs and wands at the magic cycle. A large crystal in the room started glowing, and the Rukh lit up the space from within the circle. Specks were pulled out of the pile of ingredients nearby -dirt, scraps paper, a small potted plant- and gathered at the center of the circle. The light got too bright for me to look straight at it and when it faded there was a small dark grey cube in the middle of the circle. It looked like a die with no markings.

Yam explained. "After reading about 'atoms' and 'bonds' in your scrolls it was like finding the missing piece. It will still be a long time before we can perfect the process, and we still can't make anything bigger than this yet, but soon we will be able to make anything we want!"

((In the future I intend to: reference more old memes, describe more of my experience with synesthesia, and explain more basic history and science. SO you all have been warned lol))

I had to respond; I couldn't just continue staring in awe. When I tried to answer I ended up gasping since had forgotten to breathe. I chuckled at my own shock as well as the situation. I looked up at them. "You're all amazing to be able to develop this already from the little I wrote!" I looked back at the stone. "I knew I wrote the keys to Yunan's signature alchemy magic in those scrolls, but to think you've already gotten this far with it -its amazing."

With this -when developed farther- we could make certain materials without having to worry about the pollution, and break things down easily so we won't have to worry about garbage piling up everywhere.

"Did you say Yunan? The Magi, Yunan?" Yamuraiha looked at me with wide eyes.

"Yes." It was my turn to explain. "Yunan is able to use alchemy magic like this on a grand scale. In the Fates I read he will have reason to visit Sindria in about 2 years. He creates a cabin and food in the middle of the Palace court yard so he has somewhere comfortable to stay."

The bird in the window ruffled it's feathers.

"Yunan explains the basic concept of how that magic works when asked, and since I know the science of the physical world I know the details to what he was talking about." My smile widened. "I hope my notes were easy to understand. Please let me know if you have any questions."

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbadxoc

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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

Text

Baby’s First Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 1: Found Family

Warnings: Mentions of death very briefly but the majority of this is tooth rotting christmas fluff.

Words: 3707

Summary: A request for @raindancer2004

A Christmas one-shot for Found Family. It’s Lyra’s first Christmas with Demetri in the home he has brought for himself and his new family, and he goes overboard ensuring his little girl is spoiled rotten.

There are had been many horrible days in the past year. Your boyfriend of the time had packed up and left in April, your daughter born to you in the January where your only support in the room was a midwife who had been called in last minute to replace the one suddenly taken ill. Your best friend leaving to a new city in March, never to be heard of again despite leaving you the gift of a lovely holiday – where you almost died. Meeting Demetri was one of the few highlights of your year if you were honest, and life had gradually improved since with his video calls, once weekly and suddenly every other day when you both realised you physically couldn’t cope with the silence for more than 24 hours at a time.

Then your parents died.

Demetri had flown straight out, taking some extended leave to ensure you had someone to lean on in your grief. Lyra had needed someone to care for her properly on the days your tired body couldn’t cope. It wasn’t until you had came crawling pitifully down the stairs for some sleeping tablets at 3AM once that you understood how difficult it had been for him, catching him hunched over a baby book as he absorbed every word in an effort to be the perfect caregiver for your daughter. When he’d asked you to let him look after you in a more permanent fashion, you’d agreed without hesitation. He had taken you back to Volterra the following week, helping you pack your possessions, sell what you didn’t want, and send things off to await your arrival. You’d ignored the looks of your neighbours, the old kooks peering through the curtains to eye you with disdain. What kind of woman moved to a new country with her boyfriend of four months after all? Obviously, you had to be knocked up again.

They had no understanding of just how deep the bond between you and Demetri was, not a single idea of how all-consuming, soul warming and fulfilling your love for each other had grown to be. Your new home was ready and waiting and it was beautiful, a little Tuscan cottage all of your own on the outskirts of town, far from the danger of the Volturi’s castle and away from prying eyes where you could raise your daughter in peace. He had spared no expense at all, letting you decorate to your hearts content in an effort to move on with your life, away from the grief and the pain the world had tried to beat you down with before he lifted you above it. Now…now you were feeling that familiar, frazzled feeling. You had gone to Florence for the day, leaving Demetri alone for a full day with lyra for the first time since…ever. It was as much a test for him as it was for you. You found yourself missing Lyra not ten minutes into the drive towards the city, having spent most of your time with her for the past 11 months since she’d been born.

What had followed had been one stressful problem after the next as you tried to complete your Christmas shopping for your found family. You had been forced to visit the castle once or twice to declare yourself to the Masters’ as Demetri’s mate, but a few of his friends had also come to visit you. Felix was a family favourite, though his size unnerved your daughter when Lyra first met him, and the twins had been curious about the baby Demetri had been telling them about. In your mind, they were still children and very much deserving of Christmas presents. The twins didn’t give much away, so you’d guessed at a lot of the things they might like but were fairly happy with you haul. Felix had been the only one that was easy to buy for to but Demetri…what did you get for the man that had everything and wanted nothing? He had given you the world and a pair of socks didn’t seem to be the best kind of repayment.

You had agonised for hours, walking around in a bustling shopping mall where the fluorescent lights made your eyes hurt and the constant chatter in rapid Italian made your head spin. Demetri had been teaching you but you were by no means fluent, and the people in the city spoke much faster than the local market stall owners you had gotten to know – you were starting to suspect they slowed down for you on purpose. Your day had been long and your stress levels high. You just wanted to settle down with your mate and your daughter, cosy up for the night perhaps, but you still had gifts to wrap. Maybe it could wait. Christmas day was still a few weeks away yet, you hadn’t even put up a tree to put your presents under.

Eyes trailing to the bags in the back of your car, you bit your lip softly and felt your heart skitter in your chest. You hoped they would like their presents but you weren’t holding out much hope of a thank you, especially not from the twins. Demetri had heard of the Christmas holidays but the traditions surrounding it were new news to him, and it had taken a lot of explaining before he finally seemed to understand how important this was for you to celebrate.

Lyra’s first Christmas.

When she had been born and you’d started thinking of these things you would never in your wildest dreams have imagined she would be spending it in her new home in Italy, nowhere near her biological father and without her doting grandparents, yet here you were. With a quiet sigh, you steeled yourself to put on a happy face and gathered your things to enter your home. Immediately, you were hit by the smell of spring flowers, a sure sign Demetri had been cleaning today. How he had found time to do that while caring for Lyra you didn’t know but you put it down to his vampirism. If it wasn’t so important for Lyra to grow up with you around in her formative years you might have considered turning sooner purely for the perks of moving fast and not needing sleep anymore, though she was starting to sleep better now and was on her way to her first full night of rest.

Upon opening your door your world became bright and colourful, not the neutral tones of your hallway you were used to. Bright red tinsel was wrapped around your stair railing, twisting upward to the second floor of the cottage, and it framed the photographs adoring the walls in a dazzling array of red, green and blue. A few snowflakes had been tied to the poles of the stair railing by some white ribbon. Slowly, you placed your bags by the door and closed it behind you, locking it for added safety before venturing carefully into your home. You hadn’t remembered asking Demetri to put up any decorations, hell you didn’t even think you owned any, so where had all this come from? The glass in the door leading from the hallway to the living room was frosted, but you were able to see a dark shape moving back and forth, the vague outline of a Christmas tree.

Your kitchen had a tiny tree on the breakfast bar, a Christmas themed tablecloth lying over your dining room table and, much to your amusement, little festive gel stickers on the window looking out over the garden. The legs of Lyra’s high-chair was also wrapped in tinsel. You couldn’t help but smile as you turned towards the living room, listening to the conversation inside.

“Not here either? You are fussy today your highness.” Demetri’s voice was light, teasing, completely at ease. Lyra had grown to be quite the babbler and he was more than happy to engage in conversation with the eleven-month-old girl, even if she couldn’t form proper words just yet. More garbled noises escaped your daughter and when you peeped around the doorframe, your heart melted. Demetri’s Christmas tree had been trimmed to be a little lopsided, not quite to your tastes, but he had tried. Lyra was on her blanket, surrounded by her toys, but none of them seemed to be taking her interest as she sat and watched Demetri put the last few ornaments on a frankly overcrowded tree. There were glistening lights and tinsel and beads and tinsel and baubles and…and…

“Is that…Demetri is that my parents?” you asked, having to swallow around the lump that had formed in your throat. He turned to look at you, still holding the last bauble of a big box of them in his hands. For a moment he said nothing, simply watched you take in all the lights and ornaments he’d put up about the place, the stockings by the fireplace personalised for you and Lyra. How much had he spent? How hard had he worked?

“Yes. I understood Christmas celebrations as something you did with family from how you explained them to me, so I thought they should be here in some way,” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes and he frowned, “Is it not what you wanted? I can always redecorate?” he looked a little lost as you wiped your eyes and hurried into the room to scoop up Lyra, smiling through your tears as your overwhelmed heart skittered in your chest. This man was just too much for you. Bouncing her on your hip you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Have you seen this? Look what Da – Demetri’s done for us!” you quickly caught yourself, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotion. It was too much but in all the best ways. Lyra was absorbed immediately by the twinkling lights on the tree as you brought her closer, showing her the glass bauble with your parents photograph in. She looked back at you, head turning so fast it almost fell off her little shoulders.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, looking back between you and the bauble. Head nodding you tenderly brushed your hand over her hair. It had started to grow a bit more recently and you were able now to twist small pieces at the front around your fingertip. Demetri kissed your temple, winding an arm around your waist.

“Welcome home.” He murmured, lips trailing along your shoulder, up your throat. Your head tilted automatically and you could feel him smiling at your obvious submission.

“This is perfect.” You whispered. He chuckled.

“I tried my best.” He assured you.

“Our house is clean.” You noted.

“Hmmm, hardly any evidence of disaster.” He agreed with a cheeky grin as you turned to face him. Lyra wriggled, wanting to be put down. She had started crawling just last week and after a bit of rocking, managed to haphazardly crawl back towards her toys. You watched her go with adoring eyes.

“She seems happy.” You said. Demetri chuckled, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I told you I could do it,” He turned you to face him, embracing you properly this time. You melted into his arms, kissing him sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder. “You seem very tense.” He murmured, fingertips skating up and down your spine. Your nose scrunched.

“Christmas shopping is a tense activity.” You retorted wryly.

“Ah, I have yet to experience the joys. Is there anything you want?” he wondered. You smiled, curling closer to him.

“I have everything I need right here.” You sighed contentedly, basking in the warm glow of fairy lights. Demetri didn’t reply, simply held you close and kissed your forehead. You were rather excited the next day, to wrap and put his presents under your newly decorated tree. Lyra took to helping you with the bows and after a constant battle of wrestling the one she chose from her tiny hands you had some fully wrapped presents…which you then had to keep your child away from. What you didn’t understand was how the present pile just kept growing…and growing…and growing…

Finally, four days before Christmas Day, you caught Demetri in the act. With a cough and some raised eyebrows, you had the suave tracker smiling sheepishly.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, feigning innocence terribly.

“Just how many presents have you brought Demetri? You do know Lyra is only turning one in January, right? She won’t remember half of these things. Christmas is what you do, not what you buy.” You reminded him. His sheepish smile turned cheeky as he moved at lightning speed to place the last of the presents in his bag around the tree, since there hadn’t been room under it for weeks now, and raced over to pull you against him. He stole your breath and anymore scolding words you’d prepared with a single, heated kiss. If he was trying to distract you, it worked wonders.

“Not all are for my princess,” he assured you, his hand slipping to your rear end to pull your hips flush against his, “Some are for my queen.” Cheeks heating in a blush, you swatted his chest and turned your face back to the ginormous pile of presents in the corner of your living room. There were quite a few big boxes and something that reminded you suspiciously of a rocking horse.

“Demetri. You know we don’t need all of this right?” you turned back to look at him, hands sliding up his chest to his neck. His hair was always so soft and you loved nothing more than to play with it on the evenings. He purred softly, leaning into your touch with a hum of approval.

“Is it so bad I wish to spoil you both?” he murmured, eyes closed as you twisted the hair at the nape of his neck around your fingers. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed your mouth to the corner of his in a teasing kiss. Demetri immediately turned, trying to seek more from you, but you pushed him back with a soft sigh.

“You’re too much you know that? If you really want to spoil me, a nice cup of tea for when I come down to snuggle with you will be enough.” You smiled. Demetri’s eyes rolled but he nodded.

“Of course. This is the first of many Christmases like this you know, I have every intention of spoiling you both for the rest of eternity…that and, well…nothing I bought seemed good enough.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You tilted your head.

“Demetri you know us better than anyone, I’m sure whatever you’ve bought is going to be perfect.” You promised, taking one last look at the giant present pile with a fond shake of your head before going in hunt of your cosy pyjamas. You really regretted saying that to him come Christmas day however, when you had wrapping paper littering your floor and a pile of presents you had no clue how to find homes for. The best perfumes and the clothing brands’ you would never have asked for all needed a place in your walk-in wardrobe for example, but he had already filled it with brand new designer tags when you first moved in. Lyra was surrounded by toys, looking mildly overwhelmed by the choice but utterly thrilled with all the bright colours and sounds coming from them, though her favourite so far seemed to be the simple teddy bear, one she hadn’t let go of since she had unwrapped it. Demetri was currently sat with her on the floor, Lyra resting between his legs as he helped her unwrap a present from Felix.

“Can you guess what it might be?” he asked her. Lyra was frowning, the deep concentration it took to tear at the paper with her fists evident on her face. Demetri stepped in to unstick a bit of sellotape that was making it tricky for her, his free hand gently smoothing over her hair as they worked on the present together. It was a heart-warming sight, one that only made you more confident in your gift to him.

“Dabaga.” She sounded so cross with the resistant bit of paper you both laughed, unable to help yourselves.

“I know princess, how mean of Uncle Felix to wrap it so tightly. Shall I help you do the rest?” he questioned. Lyra made another angry, garbled noise, smacking her fists on the paper in frustration. Demetri chuckled. “Alright alright, here.” He soothed, deftly unwrapping the bright pink paper from around the box Felix had put his present in. Lyra was able to lift the lid herself, looking pleased with her small victory before she tipped the box onto its side, its contents spilling into her lap. Her head snapped up to Demetri, eyes wide as she pointed at it.

“Gar!”

His face feigned shock as he nodded along, watching her pick up and inspect the small toy. There were no tags of any description or branding on the side, and you had a feeling that the pull along ducks had been made by the giant man by hand.

“They are ducks, princess,” Demetri pointed them out one by one, “A little family just like ours, a Mommy duck and a baby duck.” You noticed he pointedly left out a label for the larger duck and decided that was the perfect moment to interrupt the dynamic duo. You searched through the torn-up paper to find the small bag you had prepped for Demetri, crawling over to hand it to him as you welcomed Lyra into your lap when she crawled for you. She held her teddy bear up to you and you subconsciously leaned down to kiss it, holding her close. Demetri read the tag, glancing up at you both with a smile.

“Merry Christmas.” You said softly. His eyebrows rose slightly, the trepidation on your face confusing him almost and making him slightly more wary to open the bag you had taped shut. You stopped Lyra wriggling, hushing her slightly as you watched him. It was impossible to deny you felt nervous, unsure how he would react to the presents inside, cheap and corny but…heart-felt. Stomach churning, you were hyper-focused on his face as he opened up the bag. Nothing inside it was wrapped but there was a layer of tissue paper to move aside. Demetri paused, carefully setting the gold, shimmering paper to his left as he examined the contents of the bag. For a moment, he looked up at you in bewilderment, as if to see if you really meant it, then his breath-hitched and he reached in to reverently take out the things inside. His socks, mug and t-shirt were all inscribed with a simple but meaningful slogan, one you hoped he would understand.

“Do you mean it my love? Truly?” he asked, voice wavering. His eyes appeared to glisten, like he wanted to cry even though he wasn’t capable of it. You on the other hand could, and a single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Yes. Please? Be our Daddy duck?” your heart clenched and you almost stopped breathing as you watched his composure completely break. Demetri huffed a laugh you were sure was supposed to really be a sob, but he carefully placed his presents down into his bag and crawled across the paper to hold you both. He bent at the waist to press a kiss to Lyra’s cheek first, then shifted upward to give you a kiss that was far hungrier, far more passionate. He captured your lips over and over until you were breathless, dizzy with desire. Pressing his forehead to yours, he squeezed your hip lightly.

“Always. I will be yours as long as you will have you me. I never thought I could have a family, that things could be like this, but this is…this is perfect.” He whispered. Through your watery eyes you could still the socks peeking over the edge of his bag, World’s Best Dad emblazoned on the sides. Lyra seemed to sense this was an emotional moment to, putting her toys down in favour of taking Demetri’s large hand and tugging for his attention. He pulled back with a slow exhale, smiling down at her.

“What is it princess? You want to open more presents?” he asked. Lyra tugged at his hand again, trying to pull it past her little body it seemed. Demetri looked confused a little bit, neither of you really understanding what you wanted till he pulled her into his lap to see. She settled into his abdomen, leaning back against him quite happily. Lyra’s eyes met your own and you could have sworn if a baby could look smug, that was how you would best describe her expression.

“Are you jealous of Daddy giving Mommy kisses? Is that it? Huh?” you asked her. Demetri grinned, red eyes sparkling. They matched the Christmas lights perfectly. He easily lifted her up in the air, nuzzling her tummy with his nose before peppering soft kisses all over her cheeks to make her giggle. You began to collect the paper up as they played together.

“I can get that done in half the time, let me.” Demetri offered. You shook your head.

“It’s alright, I don’t want to interrupt Daddy-Daughter time.” You teased. Demetri just grinned brightly, looking happier than he had been since you met him. He was watching you like you had given him the world and more, and maybe you had in some respects, since Lyra was the world to you. His new title far outweighed any ranking he had gotten in the Guard and somehow, you had managed to ensure Lyra spent her first Christmas with her Daddy after all. He settled back against the edge of the sofa, Lyra straddling his lap as they both explored her teddy bear once more, her babbling filling your ears as she showed him all the buttons and patches on it that made for interesting new textures for her to feel. Demetri nodded along, the perfect little play partner for her on the most wonderful Christmas day.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x female reader #christmas oneshot #felix volturi #he does woodwork #i will die on this hill #tell me the twins wouldn't get stockings from reader

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angelic-holland · 4 years

Text

Halo Effect ‣ demon!Tom

Y/N just wants to save her little sister. What happens when a handsome stranger promises her so much more?

“I was too busy noticing all of the intricate ways in which the house at 11 Blackthorne Road seemed to collapse in on itself, that I failed to notice the horns peeking through your messy brown curls.”

Word Count: 11.2k

Warnings: mentions of cancer, supernatural elements, demons, hints at a possible mental illness/delusions, talk of death, open ending (take that as you will), psychological horror/thriller (I guess), mild smut

Author’s Note: i deleted this because I adapted it into a play but if people from irl find me here... welcome to my sins!

October 31st, 2019

Your hands shook as you kneeled in the dirt of the road, digging a hole big enough for the small wooden box in your hands. You double check the contents. A polaroid picture of you and your sister, before she got sick, you were pushing her on a swing, her mouth was wide and mid-laugh and you had the brightest smile on your face. A small mason jar full of dirt from the graveyard. A yarrow root. And the bone from a black cat. It took finding the creepiest small ‘remedy’ shop in Salem, but when you told the woman what you were looking for, she was able to sell it to you for a hefty sum. That price didn’t matter. What you would get from this was priceless.

You look around you, the crossroads incredibly obvious, four roads that all met together, all dirt. The city never bothered to pave them, the only thing down one road was a big farmhouse, a run down bar along the other, the road back into the main town of Salem, and then there was your road. Sort of. The dirt road that led to 11 Blackthorne Road. Your house. It was old, built in the 1800s and you swore the entire foundation moved when more than two people were inside the house, but it was yours. You and your sisters. You smile slightly before you bury the wooden box, standing up. You don’t know how long this would take. Almost everything you read about summonings told you that they appeared in an instant. You check your watch, it was a little past three in the morning, the witching hour, the time at which you were most likely to summon one. The moon was high above you and reflects off the glass of your watch. You look around, feeling a slight breeze that sends a shiver down your spine and goosebumps up your arms.

You jump when you see him, his beauty takes your breath away. That definitely should not be the first thing you notice about him. It should be the way that his eyes seem to glow red before quickly disappearing to reveal a light brown. You notice the freckles and a little divot in his chin, the way his nose was just slightly crooked.

“Are you-, you’re-,” you stutter out, eyes roaming the body of the man standing in front of you. He’s wearing dress pants, a matching dark blue suit jacket, a fitted white shirt, shiny black and blue shoes. His hair is nicely done, dark brown curls brushed back out of his face, and his head is tilted to the side. It’s as if he enjoys watching your reaction to him.

“Who else would I be? Who did you summon?” He takes a step towards you.

You take a step back, stumbling over the pile of dirt you created. He catches you before you can fall, one hand on your back, the other holding your hand as he pulls you back up. You feel heat rise to your cheeks as he steps back again.

“You’re the, you’re a crossroads demon?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He didn’t look like a crossroads demon. From what you’ve read online and in the books they were terrifying. Glowing red eyes and a hideous demeanor. This man, if you could call someone who looked so young, a man, is almost ethereal.

“The one and only,” he holds his arms out and laughs slightly, shaking his head, “not really the one and only, but the one you summoned.”

“Well how would you- did I choose you? How do you decide who gets to, you know, show up?”

You have so many questions, so many curiosities that you almost forgot the reason you summoned him in the first place.

“So you can grant wishes?” You ask, watching as he chuckles.

“I’m not exactly a genie. But I can give you something you want, it will cost you.”

“How much?”

“Your soul,” he answers with a shrug, this was nonchalant for him, a business deal of sorts.

“My soul?” You take a sharp inhale, logically, you knew that was what it would cost. Everyone said it. Everyone that agreed to their deal lost their soul after a specified amount of time. That was how this worked, to get something you had to give them something in return. But none of what you read really had much proof. They could very well have been ramblings of crazy people, much like so many centuries ago people accused ordinary women of being witches in your very own hometown.

“Your soul, not now, no, you can enjoy your soul for, how about one year?”

“Only one?” you nibble on your bottom lip, thinking about how little time one year seemed to you. That is, until you remember that one year for your sister was a lifetime, it was a shot in the dark, something that seemed impossible. Until now. Until a demon was standing in front of you, agreeing to give you anything you could possibly want for something that seemed incredibly trivial in return. You were never quite sure what a soul was. There were lots of conflicting philosophies regarding souls, consciousness, the afterlife. You felt that a soul was only a small part of what made you who you were. Surely your brain and heart were much more important than something without a physical representation within your body.

“I mean, I could just go,” the man begins to turn and you throw your hands out.

“Wait, no, one year, I’ll take it, please don’t go,” you sound desperate, but that was because you were, there was no hiding that. It was 3 in the morning, and you stood, shivering under the pale moonlight, begging someone that shouldn’t exist to take your soul in exchange for something. And it wasn’t just anything. It wasn’t something selfish like so many deals you read about. People sold their souls for money, for power, for fame. Apparently five of the United States presidents only won because they sold their soul for the pleasure of working at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Saving your sister in exchange for you soul wasn’t selfish, right? You aren’t saving her for you, not completely. You want to give her years and years of a life she never got to live.

He pauses, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, raising an eyebrow before nodding, “Now, I’ve got your soul, in a years time, what is it that you want?”

“My sister, she has Ewing sarcoma, a type of cancer and she’s dying. All the chemotherapy, the radiation, it stopped helping since the cancer spread to her lungs and brain. There’s no-,” you suck in a sharp breath, hope. There’s absolutely no hope, except for him. He was the last ditch option that you thought was a scary story kids told each other. That is, until he showed up and promised to give you something in exchange for your soul.

You don’t notice the way his brain seems to go elsewhere as if he’s looking for something while you ramble. You don’t notice the way his eyebrows turn in and his lips turn down ever so slightly as you continue to talk.

“So we stopped treatment, she relaxes at home now. But she’s in pain, I know she is. She keeps telling me that it’s okay, that she’d rather spend her last few days reading at the little blue cushioned window seat but I know she’d rather have a lifetime of doing that. She deserves a lifetime of that. I want to give her a lifetime of that.”

“So that’s what you want? You want your sister to be healed? No more cancer?” He asks, watching the way you tap your fingers against your thigh, partially hidden by your thick wool sweater sleeves. You are tapping out a tune, a song you would sing to your sister while she was going through chemotherapy years ago.

“Yes, she’s dying. I want you to save her.”

“And what do you need?”

“My sister! I told you! She’s dying. That’s what I need. I need you to save her.”

“You want that. And I will save her. She’s a done deal. But that’s what you want. What do you need?”

“I don’t understand,” you shake your head. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe you were dreaming and he was actually an angel, a sign telling you that everything would work itself out. That you didn’t need to sell your soul to a demon to make sure your sister was okay. Maybe a new treatment would come out tomorrow and this deal would be for nothing.

“There has to be something you’ve always needed, maybe you were too busy giving everything to your sister to take anything for yourself.”

“I mean,” you pause, shaking your head, “no, this is stupid, I don’t need that.”

“What is it?” the man implores. You don’t step back when he takes a step towards you.

“Love. I mean, I’ve never gotten the chance to do much since my sister got sick at such a young age. It’s dumb right? To want a boyfriend, or something, while my sister is sick? I’m so fucking selfish,” you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck self-consciously.

“Quite the contrary, you’ve taken care of her for so long, you never got the chance to take care of yourself.”

He smiles but his eyes are sad, deep bags under them, he looks exhausted. You wonder if demons slept.

“I guess so.”

“So that’s what you need?” the man asks.

You nod, glancing back up at him, “what’s your name? How does this contract work?”

You have too many questions. You want to invite the man back to your house for coffee and stay up until morning finding out everything you could about him. It is as if you were on a first date.

“I’m Tom,” the man says, holding a hand out, you stare at it for a moment.

“Is that how you seal the deal?” You ask.

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “no, not at all.”

“Then how do you-,”

“A kiss.”

“A kiss?” You raise an eyebrow as he puts his hand back in his pocket.

“Or I could go,” Tom begins to take a step back. You follow him.

“No! Let’s kiss, and then it’s done? My sister won’t be sick and I’ll-,”

“You’ll find love, that’s correct.”

“Okay,” you’re only an inch away from Tom now. He cups your chin, bringing your lips to his. Your eyes flutter shut before you can see the way his eyes glow red and his other hand rests against your hip. It’s warm above your wool sweater and there’s a pain that sparks up your side, seemingly wrapping around your ribs, gently scraping against them.

“Ah,” you cry out as Tom’s lips leave yours.

“It’s the contract, etched into your ribs, an unbreakable bond,” he holds you as the pain begins to subside in one side before sparking up the other.

And then he kisses you again. It distracts you from the hollow feeling inside each of your newly carved ribs. It distracts you from the fact that you just sold your soul to him. Your hands find the back of his head, one holding his lips against yours, the other running through his curls.

“It’s done,” he breathes out as he pulls away.

“Did you want to meet my sister?”

He nods, his fingers slipping easily into the space between your own, “lead the way.”

“You know, I still don’t think you’re real,” you flush as the sleeve of your sweater brushes against his watch.

“You just kissed me, didn’t you?”

“I’ve kissed people in my dreams before.”

“This isn’t a dream.”

“How can I be sure?” you quicken your pace down the dirt road, passing trees with dark red and orange leaves, they seem to turn in on themselves as you walked past. You can only focus on the way the moonlight reflected off of To’s shoes. You pass your mailbox, running your fingers along the chipped paint, over the wooden curves, over the indented ‘11’ of 11 Blackthorne Road.

“Tomorrow morning, you’ll know. Your sister, she’s going to wake up and she won’t feel any pain. She won’t lie about it either, she’ll have the brightest smile on her face.”

“How can I trust you?” you ask, he doesn’t need to know that you already trust him. That he has already given you so much in that one instant with his lips on your own than you could ever give him in return. You forget for a moment that you gave him something priceless as well. You handed over one of the most important parts of yourself without thinking twice about the implications of what you’ve done. A year was a long time. You have 365 days with Lexi that you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.

“When you realize your sister is okay, that she can do things you wouldn’t have ever dreamed she would be able to do before, that’s when you know you can trust me.”

You walk up the four steps to your porch, your hand digging into your pocket to grab the key that would unlock your door. You know Lexi is asleep, so you tell Tom to be quiet. You freeze in your spot when you noticed that the doorknob was on the left. It was odd because the door always swung open to the left, the doorknob has always been on the right. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, maybe the man who appeared out of nowhere at the crossroads was a sign that you were dreaming. Why else would the door change like that?

When you open them, the doorknob is on the right, and the door swings open to the left. The foundation doesn’t move when you and Tom walk inside.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

You and Tom sit at your kitchen table, two mismatched seats on opposite ends of this old rickety table that was at the house when you moved in. His chair is a light blue metal one, yours a dark brown wooden one, three of the five back slats missing. You watch as he wraps his hands around the warm mug, he waits for you to speak as your foot taps against the white tile.

Eventually the silence is too much for him. No matter how many centuries he spent in hell, deafening silence as he was tortured, learning how to make deals, drowning out the quiet with his own tormented screams, this is somehow worse.

You have so many thoughts, so many things you want to say, to ask, but you can’t seem to think of a single one at the moment. You can’t form the questions on your lips.

“How long has your sister been sick?”

The question takes you by surprise, the genuine curiosity in the way his voice raised at the end of the statement. You figured demons were all knowing beings. They could grant wishes that otherwise weren’t physically possible. They could perform better miracles than the Catholic church. But Tom sits here and looks genuinely interested in learning more about you.

“She’s had cancer for a little over eight years. At first it was just Ewing Sarcoma, she noticed it one time, we were on the playground, she was 8, I was pushing her on the swingset and asked a mom who was playing with her little boy to take a picture of us. I just told Lexi a joke, I can’t remember what it was now, but she was laughing so hard when the mom took the photo of us. On the bad days, when she’s in so much pain she can hardly get out of bed, I try to imagine her like that. A little kid, happy, laughing, without a care in the world. But after the woman handed me the polaroid camera, Lexi stood up. She felt this horrible, horrible pain shoot up her leg. I took her right to the hospital. Our parents met us there. The next day she was diagnosed. They started her on chemotherapy, radiation, a whole medicine cabinet worth of drugs. She was in and out of the hospital for so long. One day she looked at me, the cancer spread to her lungs, her brain, she said ‘y/n, I don’t want to live out the rest of my life in a hospital bed. Take me home, let me enjoy the little time I have left.’ So I did, and we’ve been here ever since.”

You watch Tom’s eyes wander along the wall behind you, watching as the moon slowly crept along the horribly ugly wallpaper. It illuminates different parts of it, like a never ending tapestry, it appears to tell a story. When it shone on the curve of the darkened yellow, it is a bulging throat, full of unspoken words dying to get out. As the night progresses the moon shines on the part where the dark yellow drew in. The words came easier and easier and the throat is cleared.

As the sun replaces the moon you hear Lexi’s footsteps come padding down the stairs. Her cup of peppermint tea waiting for her in between you and Tom. You count the steps as she comes down. Thirteen.

“Lexi! There’s someone I’d like you to meet!” You call out to her.

She isn’t out of breath as she enters the kitchen like she normally is.

“Good morning,” she smiles brightly, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected guest sitting opposite of you.

“This is Tom, he’s a friend of mine.”

“Well hi Tom, friend of y/n,” Lexi smiles, picking up her mug.

“How do you feel?” You sit up, glancing at Tom excitedly.

“Great actually, I don’t have a headache, my leg doesn’t hurt. I think I’m going to open the window and listen to the robins sing while I read,” she smiles as she walks past you and you ruffle her hair.

She slips out of the kitchen and makes her way to the living room. You turn back to Tom, a wide smile on your face as a tear slips down your cheek.

“She’s really okay?”

He nods, his gaze still caught on the wallpaper an inch above and to the left of your head.

“And so are you,” he responds.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, it bounces off the walls and echoes around his empty mug, he taps his ribcage. You’re reminded that he isn’t a doctor or a miracle worker. He isn’t an angel or a god. He is a demon and you sold him your soul for this. You would’ve gladly done it all over again.

You hear Lexi quietly reading her book, humming along to the song the robins sang.

You tell Tom you have to head into work later, at the Salem witch museum, the job you’ve had since high school.

“Is it alright if I head into town with you? Maybe pick up some clothes?”

“You want to stay?” You ask, face lifting up into a smile as Tom nods.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Sure, there’s this great thrift shop next to my work that has all types of clothes, you’d probably fit in best around here if you wore something other than that fancy outfit.”

“Business deals require business casual,” Tom stands up. And you remember that this was business as usual for him. Maybe he is just going to stay the night, to make sure you didn’t try to turn back on your deal. Maybe he’d be gone before the moonlight could force more words out of the ugly yellow and bloated throats that rise and fall on the wallpaper.

“Right, I uh, I’ll show you where the store is, and Lexi can let you in since you’ll be back before I’m out of work. I’ve only got one key.”

You change and Tom sits on the thirteenth step, feet tapping against the floor until he hears you coming down the stairs.

“Bye Lexi! I’ll be back by dinner time!” You call out to your sister and she calls back, she tells you she loves you and you call out a quick love you before locking the door behind you and Tom.

Your hand slips easily into Tom’s. It was as if your fingers were hand carved and crafted to fit between the space of his own. You point out different parts of town as you walk towards it. Even as the wind and cold bite your skin, he keeps you warm. Just his gentle hand in your own keep a fire burning low in your stomach. When you get to Main Street you point out the thrift shop, Tom squeezes your hand once before slipping inside. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before opening the door to the museum.

“Hi Sally,” you wave at your boss who’s sitting at the information desk. You’re about to walk towards the employee room when she stops you.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect you to be here today. You can take the next few weeks off, I uh, I should’ve called you, I’m sorry. Why don’t you see about coming back on November 15th?”

“I’m here though, I can work, I uh, I’m okay to work.”

“It’s okay honey, really, go home, rest.”

“Okay? I guess I’ll see you on November 15th.”

“And if you need more time that’s okay as well,” Sally rests her hand on your shoulder but it feels cold. You nod, walking backwards out of the door and meet Tom inside the thrift shop.

“I thought you were working?” He asks, a bundle of winter clothes in his arms.

“I forgot I took some vacation time off the next two weeks,” you shrug, “I have such a scatterbrain sometimes when I’m running around trying to take care of Lexi.”

The weeks passed and the other shoe never dropped. Lexi’s left leg no longer ached, her migraines that used to keep her in bed all day were gone. You go back to work on November 15th like you told Sally you would. She greets you with a warm hug and Jeremy, the boy who you went to high school with, smiles when you sit down at the information desk with him.

“How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good, how was your Halloween?” You strike up casual conversation, never quite finding it easy to talk to Jeremy during the dull time in between visitors.

“Pretty good, how was yours? I mean, nevermind,” Jeremy shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself for asking. Before you can ask what he means, a family walks in.

You greet them, they ask you different questions about the Salem Witch Trials. They are visiting from Wisconsin and are really into the haunted history of your town. You walk with them throughout the exhibits, falling into the easy routine of telling the history of the trials, pointing out different artistic depictions of the time period. It felt easy, you’ve been giving the same speeches for over seven years now.

When you get home that night you fix up Lexi’s favorite sandwich, turkey and cheese on wheat bread. You set it down next to her, she hums and thanks you. She hasn’t quite gotten her appetite back. You figure it was only a matter of time before she did though. She’d beg you for apple cider donuts and you’d have to fight the box away from her before she ate them all and made herself sick.

And Tom stays. You didn’t think he would. But he did. He didn’t quite explain himself, but you didn’t mind. You want him to be here. He likes to ask you questions. While Lexi was too busy buried in her book, sitting up against the frosted glass window, Tom talks to you at the kitchen table. He sits in the blue metal chair. You sit in the wooden one. Just the other day it was missing 3 slats. You stand up and looked at the chair, counting the slats and the holes where the slats should have rested.

One.

Two.

Three.

There are only three slats total, two missing. You sit down again, maybe you aren’t looking at it right, you feel one slat against your back so you close your eyes and sit so your back doesn’t touch the wood. Your thigh almost falls off the chair, it has to have been smaller than the last time you sat in it.

“I said have you always lived in Salem?” Tom asks, distracting you from the way you felt like the edges of the table were closer together than they were when you sat down.

“Yeah, I uh, yes, we have,” you nod. Your fingers tap against the wood of the table. It feels hollow.

***

Tom doesn’t sleep. You figure as much when he would keep you up very late asking you all sorts of questions. You’d lay on your side of the bed, the homey indent felt safe. He found a spot next to you, and slowly, as slowly as the frost hardened the grass and snow began to fall from the sky, his side of the bed became indented as well.

The next morning you wake up, your head finds his chest and his hand finds your shoulder. He presses a burning kiss to your forehead, you appreciate the gesture at 11 Blackthorne Road, for it has no heating and as December is drawing to a close, you are getting colder and colder.

“You don’t sleep do you?”

“Hmmm?” Tom asks as you sit up, swinging your feet off the edge of the bed and standing up. You pause as you listen to the fifth floorboard creak underneath you.

“Do you sleep?”

Tom stands up. The floorboard under him doesn’t make a sound.

“No,” he begins to get dressed for the day, you didn’t care for an explanation. It all seems routine now, he would change in the bathroom, you would change in the bedroom. Then you’d knock and join him to brush your teeth. The bathroom is always twelve steps to the left of your bedroom. Today you only took eight. When you see Tom smiling widely at you, toothpaste and all, you convince yourself you just took bigger steps to get to him quicker.

He kisses your cheek, leaving a toothpaste stain which you wipe off with a grimace. You playfully scold him until he wraps his hands around your waist and sets his chin on your shoulder.

“You look really pretty when you frown darling,” he kisses your cheek again.

“I feel like I look better when I’m smiling,” you begin to brush your teeth as Tom smiles against the skin of your neck.

“You always look great,” he shrugs. You can’t help but wonder if the mirror in front of you is smaller than when you walked in.

***

You’ve never had a better Christmas than this one. Honestly, the last good Christmas you can recall was when you were 15 years old. It was the last Christmas before Lexi was diagnosed. It was the last Christmas you spent with your mom, your dad, and her in your small apartment above the laundromat on Main Street. Every Christmas since then was spent in a hospital room or here, alone, with Lexi too sick to get out of bed. She is in somewhat of a bad mood, but you convince yourself that with a cup of peppermint tea she will be feeling better.

Tom laughs and pokes your side as you pour a glass of eggnog for you and him, “maybe she’s finally going through the angsty teen rebellion era now that she’s better.”

That shouldn’t make you smile as big as it does, you couldn’t help but break out into laughter as you bring the glasses down the hallway towards the living room. You laugh so loud you almost don’t count the 28 steps it should take you to get there. You freeze at the door, it only took 20 steps.

You shake it off when you hear Lexi’s gentle hum from the windowsill.

“Could I get some more tea?” she asks, sticking out her empty mug.

You look at it, bright yellow bumblebees painted along the old white ceramic.

“Sure let me grab you a new mug and I can wash this one later-,”

“No!” Lexi snaps at you as you take the mug from her hand.

“What is it?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at your sister. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs out a sigh.

“I don’t want a different mug.”

“You can use mine, the one with black cats on it, I’ll wash this after we open presents and-,”

Then Lexi does something you’ve never seen her do. She stands up and she gets angry.

She’s been angry plenty of times before. Angry at the world for giving her cancer, angry at a God she didn’t know if she believed in, angry at the snow that fell that one December five years ago, obscuring your parent’s vision on their drive to the hospital and taking them away. But she’s never been angry at you.

“I don’t want another mug! I can’t have another mug!” She screams, eyebrows knitted together as she almost dares you to do anything but decide to walk the 28 steps to the kitchen and wash her mug.

“Why don’t you and Tom relax while I go clean this then? Tell him about the different ornaments on the tree,” your voice shakes as Lexi rolls her eyes but sits down on one side of the tree.

Tom gives you a gentle smile before sitting down next to Lexi. You smile back, watching as he asks her about the witch sitting atop the tree in lieu of an angel.

You count only 17 steps to the kitchen. You walk to the sink as tears blur your vision. You know this is Lexi acting out, acting like the teenager she never previously got the chance to be. It still stung that she is as cold as the winter. It sends an uneasy shiver down your spine, you clean her mug, smiling at the bumblebees, three of them painted in light yellow and a strikingly contrast black.

When you get back to the living room she smiles when you hand her the mug. But then she is upset when you try to give her a present, it’s just a book. An old copy of The Awakening that you found at the thrift store a few days ago.

“I don’t want the Awakening! I like reading Frankenstein! Can’t I just read Frankenstein?”

“Of course! You can read Frankenstein! You can read whatever you want, I was just giving you something you might like.”

“Well I don’t want it.”

“Okay,” you set the book down by your side, she doesn’t even touch it.

You were never one for getting gifts, she doesn’t get you anything. She doesn’t have to. She gives you her time, she gives you warm smiles and humming by the window even though it is all too cold. She gives you a purpose in life. What use would a silly Christmas gift be?

Tom gives you a beautiful satin black nightgown. You almost cry when you take it out of the bag and run your hands across the material.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile through teary eyes. You don’t expect the reaction from Lexi that you get.

“So now all of a sudden you want presents?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

You take a deep breath before looking out the window. You notice that no matter how wide and expansive it once was, it was now no bigger than a normal size window. You see the snow falling on the ground. You wish you and Lexi could make snow angels. A gentle squeeze on your hip from Tom and a snide comment from Lexi brings you back to reality.

“What does he give you that’s so special? Do you love him more than me?” She stands up and you drop the nightgown, standing to chase after her.

“No! Enjoy Christmas with Tom, he clearly means more to you,” Lexi storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. There is only six floorboards where there should be nine.

You don’t drink any eggnog and Lexi’s peppermint tea gets cold.

Tom carries you up the stairs, your head tucked into his neck, the nightgown clutched in your hands.

Because you aren’t walking up the steps, you don’t notice that there are only twelve instead of thirteen stairs.

That night you don’t do anything routine. He doesn’t change in the bathroom, you don’t kiss his cheek with a toothpaste smile.

Instead you cry while he helps you change. And he calls you beautiful even while you have tears running down your cheeks and the moon reflects the redness in your eyes. He feels that they almost glow red like his own. There is something deeply intimate in the gentle touch of his hands on your skin, taking your sweater off, unzipping and pulling down your pants. He is a gentleman, keeping his eyes on your face the entire time, kissing your forehead as he stands back up. He helps you hold your hands up and pull the nightgown on, kissing the palm of your hand to your inner elbow. Every touch sets your skin on fire. It distracts you from the aching in your ribs.

“I’m scared Tom,” you whisper.

“Why darling?” He asks as he pulls the covers over the two of you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder and a leg over his own. It isn’t needed, he keeps you so warm there is a fire that burns incredibly deep inside of you, you can’t help but feel terrified that maybe it is filling your lungs with smoke. But even so, you would gladly let him.

You cry into Tom’s shoulder, “I think something’s wrong with Lexi.”

“And why do you think that?”

“Because, I feel like she’s changed.”

“Changed how?”

“Her personality. Like she’s harsher and she gets very angry easily. I don’t know, she’s different.”

You can’t help but notice the change that blanketed over 11 Blackthorne Road and its occupants. The way that there isn’t the right number of floorboards or the way Lexi snaps at you, the way the mirror is smaller than when you first moved in or the way you allow yourself to cry for the first time in years, and the way the window seems to draw smaller and smaller each day or the way the newest occupant never seems to move the foundation of the house.

“I know you think she’s different, but she’s 16 right?” Tom asks and you nod.

“Darling, like I said earlier, maybe she’s just being a moody teenager, I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

Tom presses a burning kiss to your forehead and you fall asleep in his arms in your new nightgown. You almost don’t notice the way that you have to huddle close to Tom because the bed is getting smaller and smaller.

***

As the snow melts and the trees begin to perk up with beautiful green leaves, Lexi seems to be happier. At the very least she is eating. She insists on making her own meals, she always ate at the window before you wake up or when you are at work, but you notice the dishes from her food piled in the sink. She even makes grocery lists for you. You ask her if she wants to go with you one day. It is April, it’s been about two weeks since it last snowed.

You are standing at the sink, making small talk about an upcoming exhibit with Tom. You’re washing the dishes, he is drying them.

“Why?” Lexi crosses her arms over her chest and even though you aren’t looking, you know she is rolling her eyes.

“Just thought it would be nice for you to get out of the house, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Are you feeling okay?” You turn, nervous now. Maybe she is starting to feel sick again. Maybe she would feel another pain in her leg and you’d go to the hospital and the doctors would sit you both down and say ‘I know you thought you were cancer free Lexi, but cancer has a funny way of showing up at the most inconvenient of times’. You glance at Tom wearily, he rests the dish towel on his shoulder and moves a gentle hand to your waist.

“I don’t feel up to it today,” Lexi shrugs.

“Okay, anything else to add to the list?” You dry your hands on the dish towel, setting it back on Tom’s shoulder.

“Could you pick up those apples? Not the green ones, the like almost yellow ones?”

“Of course,” you nod and are taken aback when she hugs you, arms wrapped tight around you. You smile until you feel how cold and skinny she is, you pull back, “Why don’t you put on a sweater and close the window before you go back? You’re freezing.”

You hurry Tom along at the grocery store, afraid if you take too long and if you leave Lexi alone at 11 Blackthorne Road for much longer that she will sink into the blue window seat and never be seen again.

***

It is July and you take Tom to see the fireworks down at Salem Willows. You ask Lexi to come with you, but she shakes her head and says the noise would give her a headache. She blows up on you.

“Can you stop trying to get me to do things?” Lexi crosses her arms over her chest.

“I just miss all the fun things we used to do together Lex, don’t you? If you’re better now, why can’t you come with us?” You feel tears in your eyes.

“Just let me go when I’m ready! It’s not up to you if I feel up to going places! Why don’t you just forget about me and run off with Tom? You hardly pay attention to me anymore anyways.”

Lexi has to know that that wasn’t true. That you spend every single day waiting for the other shoe to drop, that you are terrified of this change that has crept inside of Lexi’s heart and makes her cold.

But you don’t want to argue with her. You will gladly let her yell at you now if it means that at some point in the future she would get the courage to go outside. See the fireworks, walk around town, visit you at work, go apple picking.

Tom guides you out of the house, you only count three stairs down the front porch. He keeps walking too quickly for you to stop and count them again.

Tom holds your hand as you walk through town, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin as you say hello to various people in town.

“It’s so nice to see you y/n,” your old high school English teacher hugs you, pulling back to smile at Tom, “and who might this charming young man be?”

“Name’s Tom miss, I’m y/n’s boyfriend,” he smiles as he slips his hand back into yours.

The word feels amazing coming from his lips, and spread a huge grin on your own as you lay out the blanket. Tom kisses you under the fireworks, his hand rests on your ribcage over your tank top, you cup his face, fingers brushing over his freckles.

You walk back home with your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hands intertwined and swinging between you. You don’t notice as you walk up two steps to the front door instead of four.

***

The leaves are beginning to change colors again, from crisp green to soft reds and oranges. People flock to the town of Salem at this time of year, the museum was always busy with tourists wanting to learn all about the Salem Witch Trials. It keeps you busy. You are starting to enjoy the times you aren’t at 11 Blackthorne Road. When you walk through the exhibits of the museum, telling people all about the history of your town. When Tom and you walk hand in hand to the grocery store, he likes to kiss you in line at the check out, one hand on your hip, the other gently curled around your side, gliding up your ribs. You look forward to your grocery store trips.

When you walk home later that night, after a particularly long shift, Tom is sitting in the kitchen, you can smell peppermint tea and you shiver as you slip your shoes off by the front door. You pass the living room door, pausing when you notice the window is open. Lexi is probably going to catch a cold if she is sitting at the window the entire day, the cold air isn’t good for her. You tsk, attempting to rub warmth back into your arms as you count the floorboards to the window seat.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

There is supposed to be nine. You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head as you shut and lock the window. You promptly turn and count the floorboards as you walk back to the door.

Nine floorboards. You exhale as you walk to the kitchen. Tom is sitting on the wooden chair, you sit down opposite him in the blue metal one.

“How was work?” Tom asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Not bad, very busy, all these kids wanted to know if the Bloody Mary myth was true, I had to explain to them that it wasn’t. They kept asking me if all of this paranormal stuff was real, ghosts, demons, I had to bite my tongue,” you let out a laugh as Tom reaches his hand across the table and traces a line in your palm.

“Probably not the best idea to tell them that demons are real,” he smiles, biting his lip.

“Yeah, then they’d try to steal you away from me.”

“Never,” Tom trails his fingers up to the crease of your inner elbow and gently taps at the skin.

“Want to get ready for bed?”

“Sure, let’s go darling,” Tom rests a hand on your hip and follows you up the stairs. You don’t realize there are only twelve instead of thirteen steps.

You both brush your teeth in the bathroom, and he places a toothpaste covered kiss on your cheek, which you groan at and wipe off. You return the favor before rinsing your mouth out and making your way back to your bedroom.

You change into your nightgown, the black satin one Tom got you for Christmas almost a year ago. You have a warm smile on your face as Tom opens the door and walks towards the end of the bed, the moonlight casting a shadow across his face. It doesn’t scare you when you can’t see him fully and completely, it only brings a warmth to your belly when he stands right in front of the bed, the moon shining high above his head now.

“You keep saying that I’d find love Tom, but love was right in front of me this entire time,” you watch as he gets closer and closer to you.

You sit back against the headboard. You ignore the way it seems to warp against your body. You ignore the way his shadow on the far left wall is inverted and shorter than it should be. Or maybe it’s the wall that’s shorter? You scan the green wallpaper, the very top corner curling in on itself, shrinking.

“You love me?” He asks, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Your legs are stretched out in front of you, his knees almost touching your toes.

“I mean, I didn’t want to admit it for a long time, but you were the person I found love in. Is that such a bad thing?”

Tom smiles and shakes his head. “No, because I love you too.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No actually, after you said your sister was better, I figured I could leave. I would let you fall in love with that nice boy who works at the museum with you. He’s had a crush on you since high school you know?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you shake your head. You have no idea Jeremy even gives you the light of day. But he doesn’t matter. You love Tom. You love the way the moonlight curled around the side of his face, whispering up his jaw, across his cheek bone, trailing up his hair to rest gently above his head. It stands out against the green wallpaper, Tom’s biceps standing out against his white T-shirt, for a moment you swear the moonlight turns into a ring and sits atop his head like a halo. You gasp as his warm hands gently run up your legs and he settles between them.

“I love you too, I love you because of your selflessness. I love you because you let me into your life, a big scary demon, and you accepted me for that. You didn’t love me because of that. You didn’t love me despite that. You loved me as a completely separate entity from the worst quality I have that I can’t get rid of. You are the first person I’ve met in centuries of deals that has ever made me feel anything at all.”

“Tom,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you sit up. The headboard stays warped and you cup his cheeks in your hand, bringing his lips to your own.

“I love you because I can’t picture spending eternity anywhere but right next to you, on top of these blue sheets, making peppermint tea and eating apple cider donuts,” he admits when he pulls back slightly.

“I love you Tom,” you smile, focusing on his eyes instead of the way the wallpaper continues to curl in on itself, then the wall, slowly the door is closer to the bed than it should be. The moon reflects off the very top of the door instead of the corner of the room. He helps you lie back on the pillow. The headboard is smooth again.

“May I?” He asks, running his hand up your thigh, watching as you shiver beneath him.

“Please,” you nod, his fingers brush against the edge of your black nightgown.

He pushes the satin material up past your waist, kissing across the skin of your thigh, passing your underwear, trailing soothing kisses along the skin of your stomach, his chin lightly pressed against the top of your panties.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles and you whimper as his fingers inch higher and higher, hooking into your underwear, “may I?”

You nod, giving him permission with a breathy moan.

Tom can’t help but notice how bittersweet you taste.

You can only focus on one curl brushing down in front of his eyes, and the way one of his hands tightens on your thighs, leaving fingerprint bruises as you cry out his name. You are gasping for air when he brings you to completion. You are utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers inside of you and the way the moon reflects over the white door to your room.

But that isn’t where the moon should be. You glance over at your clock as Tom kisses up your body. It is 3am. The moon should be right in front of you, staring back at you. You close your eyes as Tom’s lips press against yours. You feel his fingers brush against your ribcage and you whimper as you remember the contract etched into your bones.

“Do you want me to stop?” His lips wet and red against your neck.

“No, please, I need your love Tom,” you feel hot wet tears on your cheeks and then his burning kisses taking them away.

“You have it,” he whispers, kissing you as you run your hands under his shirt, across his stomach to rest against his beating heart.

He sits up, helping you take his shirt off. His skin seems to be on fire, blotches of red patches stain his chest, you stare in awe as he helps you take your nightgown off.

“You’re so beautiful darling,” Tom whispers as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

He takes off his sweatpants and underwear and when you wrap your legs around his waist and he fills you so completely, you swear you feel the edge of the bed creep up against your shoulder. You have to close your eyes as he buries his face in your neck because you’re afraid if you keep them open the bed will be reduced to something so small neither of you will fit. And you don’t want this moment to end because 11 Blackthorne Road decides to grow smaller in the most inconvenient way.

So you keep your eyes squeezed shut. And you don’t notice the hazy red glow of Tom’s eyes. You don’t notice the way the upper corner of the wallpaper curls away from the wall, revealing the old stained wood and insulation. You don’t notice the way the back legs of the bed scrape against the twelfth floorboard instead of the eighth. You don’t notice that the floorboards get thinner and thinner, that even though they seemed to multiply, the room continues to shrink.

You gasp into his mouth as you come, his hand seems to curl against your side, almost past your skin, past the muscle, like his fingers whisper against the bone, tracing the words he put there what seemed like so long ago.

You’re cold after everything. You thought Tom would’ve set your insides on fire like he always does, and he did, from the time his lips attached to your own and his hands ran up your sides. He reached inside of you with red wispy tendrils of fire. You are still cold. His arms are tight around your bare middle, but you are freezing cold.

You both clean up, he lets you wear his grey sweatpants after you pull the covers over both of you and you are still shivering in just your nightgown. Then you take that off and change into a sweater. When you open the closet to grab it, you falter for a moment. Your hand collides with solid wood where the doorknob should be. The doorknob is always on the right. The door swings open to the left. But now the doorknob is on the left. You close your eyes. You think of Tom’s fingers whispering hidden universes into your sides and his lips breathing beautiful smoke into your lungs. You allow the fire to settle in your stomach. You open your eyes and the doorknob is exactly where it should have always been. The door swings open to the left. You pull your sweater on and climb back into the homey indent your body made, curling up next to Tom. You rest a head on his bare chest and he maneuvers an arm around your shoulder.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

****

October 31st, 2020

You wake up with your head resting on Tom’s chest, it is peaceful, the sun shines in through the dull green curtains, illuminating the freckles and bumps and grooves in his skin. He is lying awake, his mind elsewhere until you speak.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re really an angel,” you smile into Tom’s bare chest as he runs a hand up and down your arm.

“Why’s that?”

“You gave me everything I could have ever wanted. You gave my sister the miracle of remission. You gave me love. Besides, I read about it. Demons are only supposed to give someone one thing in their deal. I’ve read about deals between humans and demons they’ve documented. None of them are given more than one thing in their deal. Tangible or otherwise.”

“What makes you think I gave you anything else?”

“What?” You sit up, pushing your back against the headboard and staring down at Tom. He rests his hand under his head and raises an eyebrow at you.

You feel a warp in your headboard that wasn’t there a moment ago. The wood seems to bend to the shape of your body and you pull away from it, standing up and scrambling to grab your bathrobe, pulling it over your suddenly all too cold body.

“What is it?” Tom asks, running his hand along the bedspread, the indent where you were just laying.

“What do you mean by that?” You ask, stepping back, the floorboard is supposed to creak here, it always did when you stepped on it. The house is all too eerily quiet. You step forward, not because you want to go back towards Tom, but because you need to hear the tiny squeak that the floorboard always makes. It is the 5th floorboard that makes that noise.

There’s a sharp pain in your ribs as you stumble back, “what’s happening?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Tom’s voice is laced with pain as he sits up and the bed groans.

“Couldn’t tell me what?” Tears sting your eyes as Tom stands up. You glance at his side of the bed. The headboard isn’t warped. There’s no homey indent in the soft blue sheets. He takes a step towards the end of the bed, towards you. The eighth floorboard squeaks. Or is it the seventh? Your eyes wander to the faded green wallpaper, scanning to the baseboard running along the bottom of the wall. You count the floorboards with bated breath.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Tom is standing on the eighth floorboard.

When you first inherited the house, after your parents died and you and Lexi packed up your things and moved to this old plot of land that belonged to your mom’s family for centuries, you felt like this room was the largest room in the entire house.

It has a huge lovely window opposite the door, dusty green curtains that to this day, no matter how many times you washed them, still collected dust easier than it reasonably should have. You should have known though. Nothing in this house is reasonable. Not even yourself.

Now the window seems to be hardly the size of a piece of paper. You could barely look out of it. You notice how the curtains would make a lovely scarf.

The dark oak floorboards were wide and ran horizontally from the window to the door.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

The floorboards seem to get thinner and thinner. Even as you counted them, a watchful eye inspecting their change down to the millimeter. They are sneaky. But they shrink anyway.

Tom shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The 8th floorboard creaks again.

It doesn’t make sense, it is your side of the bed that has the creaky floorboards. And it isn’t the 8th, it is the 5th, it was always the 5th. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. On the exhale you shift your weight and the floorboard under you creaks

Your eyes dart to the baseboard and you begin to count again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

You look at the floorboards underneath your feet, just as wide as when you dragged this old bed up here years ago. The fifth floorboard creaks underneath you.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Tom’s eyes are nothing but full of concern as he joins you on the fifth floorboard, resting his hands on your shoulders so he could look you in the eyes.

“What couldn’t you tell me Tom?” Your voice raises as your hands shake at your sides.

“The last good day,” he breathes out, as if saying that lifted this incredible weight off his shoulders.

“What do you mean? Come on, don’t talk like that, just say what you mean to say.”

“Your sister, her last good day. October 29th, 2019.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It was her last good day. She sat on the window seat, it was still worn down and indented from how often she would sit in it. She drank peppermint tea and read Frankenstien. It was an old copy, one you found at a bookstore on Main Street when she begged you for new books to read during chemotherapy. She’s had to have read that book hundreds of times. It was one of the only books she read.”

“Stop, Tom, what are you saying?”

Tom just smiles sadly and continues, “You went to give her her pain medication, she just smiled at you and said she didn’t need it. That she wasn’t in pain. She said that maybe later that day the two of you could go apple picking. You laughed, it seemed like a ridiculous request, she hasn’t walked without a walker or stepped foot outside of the house in over a year. She wanted to go apple picking? And then she looked at you and shook her head, she said that ‘today, y/n, I can do anything I want.’ You ruffled her hair, and she scowled but she secretly loved it. You agreed with her, said that you could drink apple cider and eat apple cider donuts, that maybe you couldn’t pick the apples, but the apples could come to you instead. Then you told her you were going to run to the store, you needed to pick up those groceries. She said she loved you, and you said ‘love you too Lex’.”

“Tom, stop,” your lower lip trembles as bits and pieces of that day come flashing through your mind.

You remember a skip in your step as you walked back to the house, a bag of apples in one hand, in the other were a box of apple cider donuts and a half gallon of apple cider. You were going to be sick of apples after that day, but you didn’t mind because Lexi wanted apples. You remember the way the police sirens signaled to you the end of the world. You remember the way the red and blue ambulance lights reflected against the trees lining the dirt road up to your house. You remember dropping the apples, stumbling over them and crushing one underneath your foot. You remember dropping the apple cider and donuts, the cider splashed against your pant leg as you took off in a sprint towards your house.

You remember the noise you made, the high pitched scream as your knees collapsed beneath you and they told you she was gone.

“Lexi,” you gasp, pulling away from Tom’s hold and running out of the room, you run down the hallway, it seems to narrow, the area where the staircase was is now a small pin in the distance. You keep running. You’re out of breath by the time you get to the stairs. You count them as you gasp for air.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

You stumble and fall to the wooden floor, there is supposed to be a thirteenth stair. There has always been a thirteenth stair.

Tom’s footsteps tumble down the stairs behind you as you struggle to stand up.

“Y/N, please, wait!” Tom shouts as you run towards the living room. You run right past the door. It’s supposed to be here, you stop and turn, face to face with the light yellow wallpaper that wraps around the hallway down towards the kitchen.

You take two steps back, why is the door here now? Tom watches your confusion. Is the house getting smaller? Each pass down the hallway the living room door seems to inch closer and closer to the front door.

You throw the door open, eyes landing on the empty blue window seat. The soft indent where Lexi usually sat is no longer worn down, you run to it, almost colliding with it. It should be nine floorboards away from you but it is only six. You fall to the ground as your fingers grasp at the soft material of the seat.

“You only gave me one thing,” you gasp for air, trying to smell the familiar scent that seems to seep into the walls of 11 Blackthorne Road. Peppermint tea. Golden apples.

“I couldn’t have given you what you wanted,” Tom says, kneeling down next to you.

You feel tears drip down your cheeks as you remember.

You signed your sister’s body over to the medical examiner, Lexi always insisted her body be donated for science when she died. You had to give her what she wanted. You almost didn’t sleep that night, you curled up on the blue window seat with her Frankenstein book. That very next morning, you woke up to a gentle nudge on your shoulder.

“That’s my seat,” Lexi smiles at you, snatching the book from your hands.

“I couldn’t give you Lexi’s remission. She was gone when you decided to summon me.”

“You’re lying,” You shake your head, “that was a nightmare, the next morning she was there, she took the book from my hands and sat back down in her seat. She asked me for her pain medications and her peppermint tea. I knew I had to help her, help her more than I ever had. And I did! I found you! You made her better! You took away her pain!”

“Where is she now? If she’s alive where is she now?” Tom asks, he’s pleading with you.

“She’s gone for a walk, she wanted to, she wanted to go apple picking. You know what? She’ll be back soon, I should make her some tea before she gets back,” you brush Tom’s hands off your shoulders and stand up. There’s an indent where Lexi sat. You busy yourself counting the steps towards the kitchen. There should be twenty eight. Exactly. You catch yourself before you can almost walk right out the back door. You turn and walk back to where the living room door is. Then you walk towards the kitchen again. Sixteen steps to the entrance. You don’t have time to recount, you know what 11 Blackthorne Road is doing by now. You know it is closing in on you. But you don’t have time to fret. Lexi would be back soon. You have to get her tea started.

You turn on the stove, setting the kettle on top of the flame. You step one foot to the left to grab the peppermint tea from its spot in the cabinet, you tilt your head because the cabinet isn’t there anymore and take a half a foot to the right. Was the cabinet always this skinny? It seems to stretch upwards for a mile, you have to reach up on your tiptoes to grab the box. It is empty.

“Tom! I’m going to run to the store to pick up some peppermint tea, turn the stove off when the water finishes boiling!”

You count twenty eight steps to the living room door. You slip off your bathrobe and hang it on the staircase, slipping into your shoes. You tug at your wool sweater, the sleeves hung at the tips of your fingers and as you shut the door to 11 Blackthorne Road behind you you have to wrap your arms tightly around yourself. The autumn breeze nips at your skin as you kick a rock down the old dirt road. You pass the crossroads where you met Tom all that time ago. You continue walking as goosebumps rise on your skin. You buy three boxes of peppermint tea. It’s best to stock up, that way you won’t have to leave Lexi alone too often. The woman ringing you out smiles sadly as you tell her your sister is out apple picking and you are going to make her a nice warm cup of tea for when she comes home. You kick the same rock back down the dirt road. You pay attention to that rather than the billowing smoke rising up from 11 Blackthorne Road. You look up, red embers reflected in your irises.

Tom stands amongst the flames, hand outstretched, beckoning, inviting.

You drop the paper bag from your hand.

You watch as the house gets smaller, the wooden shingles of the roof burn, the wispy green curtains seem to evaporate, the porch steps engulfed in flames, fire whispering up the sides of Tom’s dark blue dress pants.

You run your hand along the wood of the mailbox, fingers tracing the ‘11’ of 11 Blackthorne Road. A jagged piece catches your thumb, tearing the skin. You watch the blood drip onto the dirt in front of you.

You notice there are only two steps up to the porch. You squeeze your eyes shut and think of the flames that Tom’s fingertips always seemed to draw out from your ribs. You think of the way his lips felt on your own. You think of the hazy red glow in his eyes that you ignored. You think of the moonlight shining over his head, etching along the green wallpaper of your bedroom as he showed you how much he loves you. You think of the words that tumbled easily from your mouth and the bulging throats of the yellow wallpaper of your kitchen. You think of how much you love him, the curl of his fingers against your ribs, the gentle brush of his lips against your skin, the soft brown curls that always managed to fall into his eyes so you could brush them away, the toothpaste kiss he would press to your cheek. You open your eyes again. There are four steps leading up to Tom, like there always were.

How easy would it be to slip your fingers into the space between Tom’s. How incredibly easy would it be to let him press a burning kiss to your forehead. How terribly easy would it be to collapse in on yourself as the house at 11 Blackthorne Road collapsed in on you.

All is well at 11 Blackthorne Road.

***

Tagging people who liked my post about this: @kickingn-ames // @littlekidsteve // @parker-holland-osterfield // @rebekkah4766 // @mysmileyspideyboi // @beelzebubsgirl666 // @sexytholland // @definitely-not-black-cat // @goofycactusbear // @truly-y0urs // @bombing-daisies // @hollandcreep // @bi-infinity

#tom holland #demon!tom #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #halo efffect #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction

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ricksroaches · 3 years

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Jimin - Dysphoria ch. 2

pairing: Yoongi x Reader, OT7 x Reader (platonic)

summary: Jimin gets in trouble defending Y/N. Later that night things get deep.

notes: Y/N is based of an OC so if a few traits don't match yours I'm sorry T.T. To clear things up, this chapter takes place like a year before the actual storyline. Present day, Y/N and Jimin are juniors.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: cursing, mental illness, drugs (weed, LSD), smut (fingering, spanking, v penetration), mentions of sexual assault

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Jimin lost his virginity when he was 14.

Too fast? Ight let’s take it back a little.

Jimin was the perfect kid. Obedient, polite, compassionate, the ultimate parent dream package. He was born to please everyone. To give everyone joy, even if that joy was his own. But it wasn’t enough when it came to his parents. Their marriage was rocky even before he was in the picture. They divorced, and his dad moved out when he was 8, leaving his mom to raise him and his older sister by herself. He got a good lawyer and ended up getting out of custody, but his mom managed to get decent child support out of it. If one thing is true about this world it’s that a man with deep pockets can get whatever he wants.

Jimin wouldn’t see his dad for another four years, but life went on as it does; he continued to excel in dance, make good grades, make everyone happy. That was, until Seunghyun came into the picture.

He seemed okay at first. His mom had met him through a friend, and it didn’t take long for them to start dating. He was nice enough, handsome enough, wealthy enough. Jimin remembered the day he met him for the first time.

“Hey, Jimin right?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Your mom talks about you a lot.”

“…thank you?”

He laughed. “How old are you?”

“11.”

There was a pause. He simply nodded a few times before clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. Keep that up.”

Seunghyun began coming over more and more frequently, most times even staying the night. Jimin had grown to like him quite a bit. He always brought something for him like a candy bar or a pair of Ray Bans he didn’t wear anymore. He often took him out to get ice cream and other spur of the moment treats.

Jimin's sister, Roseanne, was also a dancer. In fact, she was the reason he started. She was the whole world in his eyes and the most beautiful dancer he’d ever seen. Her dancing was the kind that sucked the air out of the room. No one dared breathe as everyone’s eyes followed her fluid movements. You simply couldn’t take your eyes off her in fear of missing a detail. It didn’t matter what you were doing. If Rose was dancing, you were watching.

Rose had a dance tournament in L.A., a solid 6 hour drive from their home in San Francisco. Mom was too busy with work to take her, so Seunghyun offered which she gratefully accepted. Jimin wasn’t worried at all, he knew she’d beat everyone there, which was why it surprised him to see her come home with a broken spirit. When he asked her what happened she simply said, “I didn’t make it.” He consoled her while she wept throughout the next two nights.

It wasn’t until the boys’ trip Seunghyun planned as an extra birthday gift that he would understand Rose’s tears. He’d just turned 12.

Jimin separated his life into two books. One of his life before that trip. The other, his life since. He often kept himself up at night wishing he hadn’t gone, and that he would never become the person he is now.

What happened on the trip, however, it didn’t stop. In fact, it happened more and more often, and it wasn’t just him, it was Rose too. The night Jimin heard Seunghyun slip into his sister's room next door, he made a decision.

He started taking the brunt of Seunghyun’s doings to keep him away from Rose. He could tell she was wilting. Her dance had become lethargic and she rarely competed anymore. Jimin wouldn’t have that. If he had one purpose in this world, it was to make Roseanne happy.

The promiscuity began in 7th grade with his first kiss at the back to school dance with Megan Shelby, one of the most popular girls in school. Their brief relationship rocketed him to the top of the dating hierarchy. By the end of the semester, he’d had 3 girlfriends and 4 boyfriends. Oh yeah, he knew he swung that way for a while now.

By 8th grade, things became more sexual. He just needed more. That rush that he got feeling someone else’s lips on his, getting to touch their body any way he liked, being touched himself, it was addictive. In those moments, he could forget about everything and enjoy himself for once.

His first nude was leaked by a boy who pretended to be gay for a month so Jimin would send to him. He didn’t have much shame when it came to sending nudes. He never asked for any, he was a gentleman. But if asked, if the guy was cute enough, he would.

Jacob. God that boy. Jimin was head over heels for that boy. Whatever he wanted, Jimin did. His first time giving head was pretty scary. He gagged a lot and could barely fit half of him, but it was the hardest he’d ever been in his life.

It didn’t take long for Jacob to want more than blowjobs. It was a spur of the moment thing, really. It was the summer before freshman year, Jacob had gotten them invited to a high school party, and Jimin’s mom had just broken up with Seunghyun (for reasons unrelated to this story). That was also the first night Jimin had ever gotten drunk. This was his night to secretly celebrate his freedom from the burden he lived with for three years. He took to the stuff rather quickly and before long Jacob was carrying him slurring up the stairs to a bedroom for him to rest.

Jimin playfully initiated a make out session that got pretty hot and heavy thanks to the alcohol. It was then that Jacob pulled back and popped the question. Jimin thought about it for a good 4 seconds before smashing his lips back onto his beloved boyfriend’s.

A new chapter in the Book of Jimin was written that night.

Jacob ended up cheating on him to which Jimin proceeded to rack up the highest body count in the school. It’s ancient history.

Despite his vigorous sexual awakening, Jimin remained the same angel in every adult’s eyes. It was hard to live with the memories of Seunghyun that plagued him almost every waking moment. He was finding it more and more difficult to come up with excuses for his breakdowns that sent him home from school. He couldn’t tell his mom. It would break her heart. So he dealt with it on his own, hiding all of his pain and fear behind a polite smile.

~~~

SOPHOMORE YEAR - OCTOBER

“All I’m saying is, dying of old age is like dying from not dying.”

Jimin swung his locker closed revealing the unzipped hoodie clad Y/N leaning against the locker beside him. “It took you ten minutes just to say that?”

“If you won’t appreciate my philosophical ideas then I will take them elsewhere.” He eyed her down.

“Y/N, you probably can’t even stand up straight right now.”

“And why might you say that?”

“Because it’s the last day before fall break I know you're high as tits right now.” She let out a slurred chuckle. She leaned her temple against the red metal and gazed at him with a dopey smile spread across her face. “Yeah, uh huh. Didn’t even share with me, bitchass. Now let’s go.”

“Yessir.” She stuffed her hand in her shorts pockets in search of her keys when a rough slap to her ass made her stiff as a board.

“Nice ass, L/N. You should wear those more often.” She could barely recognize the voice as Will Jacobs before he was on the floor with Jimin on top of absolutely wailing on him. He paused his assault briefly.

“You never touch her! You hear me?!”

Will glanced at her before zoning back in on Jimin. “Her? Tell her not to wear something like that and not expect feedbac-” he was cut off by Jimin's fist connecting to his nose with a delicious crunch. He didn’t stop, though. He kept punching and punching and punching. By now, a crowd had formed shouting and chanting for either boy. Y/N didn’t do anything to stop it. She stood there, keys dangling from her finger, in stoned awe. Although the sober side of her would’ve enjoyed to see it happen nonetheless. She was also too stoned to warn him about the principle marching towards the pair.

“JIMIN PARK!” His fist stopped midair, fully reared back to strike. The circle scattered like rats upon their fighters’ capture. He was yanked up by the back of his shirt and Will was hauled to his feet by two security guards, a shit eating grin on his blood smeared face. Jimin turned to Y/N, who’s mouth was still hanging open, while being dragged to the office.

“Just go without me. This is gonna be a while.” To which she dumbly nodded and made her way out of the building baked and confused.

~~~

The sun had set and Y/N still had no word from Jimin. She assumed his mom took his phone as punishment or something so she went about her business, albeit a little bummed.

She had just settled on her bed with her bong nestled in her lap when a soft knock at her window made her jump. She whirled around to see Jimin crouched outside her window. She unlatched it and shoved it up with a half annoyed huff half sigh of relief. “What the hell are you doing?” He ignored her query and slipped through the window and rolled onto her floor.

“I told my mom I’m at Tae’s. I just wanted to see you after earlier.” With a nod of approval, she turned around to inspect her bong for any damage.

“I live alone dipshit you could’ve used the door.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting that.”

Yes. Y/N lives alone. We’ll unpack that later.

“So what happened?” She settled back in her spot but set the hot pink crystal contraption on her nightstand. Jimin crawled onto her bed and collapsed into the soft blankets. The smell of weed mingled with the lavender fabric softener to create a devastating blend that could knock anyone out for hours.

“Most of it was just them saying how disappointed they were and how I tainted my ‘flawless’ record. They didn’t even address the reason I gave them for doing it.” His lips twitched into a hateful scowl briefly. “They’re suspending me for three days.”

“But it’s fall break.”

“Exactly, that’s why I’m suspended the first three days we get back. Jokes on them, I just got my break extended.”

“What about Will?”

“He was in the nurse’s office the whole time.” She casually lifted her fist and he bumped it.

“That’s my guy.”

There was a comfortable silence while the two relived the moment in their heads. She was thinking about how stupid she probably looked watching the ordeal. He wished he’d done more damage.

“Hey, Jimmy boy?”

“Yes, bitch?”

“You wanna get high?”

Y/N had just gotten a new sheet and wanted to try it out. They placed the tabs on each other’s tongues and watched the little mushroom design dissolve. An hour later they were sitting across from each other staring at the other giggling incoherently.

She studied every one of his features like it was the first time she’d seen him all over again. His peach hair was parted down the middle, bangs brushing his temples. His clean, solid eyebrows were in perfect contrast to his sun kissed skin. His eyes formed tiny crescents when he smiled only adding to his adorable look. His smile…….his smile. Perfect, pink, pillowy lips she could only describe as belonging to an angel. Glowing white teeth that radiated beauty every time he opened his mouth. His face slowly began to look like an oil painting on canvas the longer she stared at him. Her smile grew ever wider as she traced the brush strokes along his jaw and the delicate shading of his toned neck.

Jimin gazed at Y/N’s face with pure adoration. All of his love for her magnetized by the dopamine dump in his brain, and he hoped she saw herself the way he did. Her wild curls wiggled in place like a cute version of Medusa’s snakes. Very fun to look at when there’s a whole mane of it. Her freckles sparkled like dots of purple and blue glitter and the moonlight that hit the apple of her cheek shimmered and twinkled like it was coated in diamond dust. A barely audible giggle slipped from her parted lips. It made him giggle too. “What?”

“I’m just so happy…” her spacey smile said it all. He could see in her eyes that she truly meant it. He watched as the color changed from blue, to green, to hazel, to grey. The colors mixed and faded slowly and if you didn’t focus you wouldn’t catch it. He counted each individual fleck of gold in the center of her irises and they glowed like fireflies on a summer night.

“…Jimin..?”

He snapped out of his daze to see that her eyes were wider than they were before. He also realized that she was laying on the bed, and he was on top of her. He was frozen. When did that even happen? He stared back at her with equal shock but neither moved away. Her eyes didn’t show any signs of fear or discomfort. She was just surprised.

Every thought he ever had about her was rammed to the front of his mind and he had the crushing need to show her how special she truly was to him. Without further ado, he smashed his lips down onto hers. She let out the tiniest squeak before quickly returning the favor. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled him father down to deepen the kiss. His chest was now pressed against hers and the grip on his hair tightened. Few breaths were taken between kisses while she pushed his jacket down his arms and let it drop to the floor.

Jimin took it upon himself to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt and pull it over her head. He slid his palms up and down and stomach and waist, completely lost in the distorted sense of touch that hypnotized him. He was reminded of his task by a soft tug on the hem of his own shirt which he hastily peeled off before diving back into another kiss. He took his course to her jaw and then found purchase on her neck, sucking and biting until wine colored marks dotted her entire neck and collarbone. He made quick work of her plain black bra and tossed it behind him to an unknown corner of the room. He got to work making his marks anywhere and everywhere he could reach. The sharp rise of her chest when she gasped only spurred him on.

His hands snaked down her naked torso and yanked her sleep shorts out from under her before slipping his fingers under the waistband of her undies. Simple black Calvin Klein cheeky cut. Modest, yet tasteful. Her thighs jerked when he found her clit and started rubbing smooth circles, drawing out a silent cry from her behind his lips. He made sure she was good and wet before sinking two fingers past her lips, earning another heavy gasp that made her chest heave against his. He broke the kiss and leaned back much to her disappointment. He pumped his fingers in and out, finding every little nook and cranny to massage. He pressed his palm into the space between her belly button and her entrance and curled his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, eliciting a satisfying cry from her. He burned the sight of her back arching off the bed at his handiwork into his memory permanently.

He curled and pumped his fingers faster and faster until her walls clenched around his digits and her body shuddered and twitched from the force of the climax he’d brought her. She collapsed against the bed a heaving mess and he gazed down at her with a devilish smile. Demon Jimin had come out to play.

In a flash, he was out of his jeans and back on top in only his boxers. His muscular thighs and arms caged her underneath him as he raked his eyes over her figure before landing on her last remaining article of clothing. Before she knew it, she’d been flipped onto her stomach. His hands glided up her thighs and kneaded the flesh of her ass. With a rough tug, she heard the sound of fabric tearing and cold air hit her core sending a shudder down her spine.

A single, dazzling smack stung her right cheek before the pain was kneaded away. He pressed his body into hers and spoke low in her ear, “You feel that? Only I’m allowed to do that. No one else.”

She could feel the familiar hardness grinding against her ass sending another shiver through her body. He chuckled darkly. “You like that, don’t you?” She nodded, her face pressed into her pillow. He dug his fingers into her hips and abruptly yanked them into the air. Her yelp was muffled by the pillow but he definitely heard it. His boxers were discarded and he lined himself up at her entrance. He teased his tip against her folds watching them flinch with every touch. He sunk his full length into her evoking a high pitched cry from her and a low groan that ripped through his chest.

He wasted no time setting a rhythmic pace that had them both a moaning mess. They could feel every single square inch in 4K and their brains could barely keep up. He was so lost in the feeling he didn’t realize he’d sped up significantly and she was gripping the pillow to muffle her pleasured cries. “Why are you hiding those beautiful noises?” He wrapped his hand around her neck and hoisted her upright on her knees. “I want to hear everything that I do to you. Don’t you dare hold back, because if you go quiet I’ll only fuck you harder.”

He sacrificed speed for force in the new position. More sounds of pleasure spilled from her lips with each snap of his hips. His arm snaked between her breasts to grip her neck and pull her to his chest while he fucked into her with devastating force. The harder he rammed her cervix the louder the cries he squeezed out of her. He increased his speed once again leaving her a rag doll in his arms.

With another flip, she was on her back again and he was back inside her before her vision steadied. He hooked her thighs over his own to get a better angle which sent her curling off the mattress once again. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were squeezed shut to concentrate on the feeling. He gripped both cheeks in one hand and pulled her face down. “Look at me.” Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to find his face among the stars that jumbled her vision. He lined her face up with his, “I want to see those pretty eyes when I make you cum around my dick.” She breathlessly nodded and tried to maintain his scalding gaze while her body was getting shoved into the mattress with every thrust. The headboard cracked against the wall, accompanying her escalating cries when his thumb moved to circle her clit again.

“..-m I’m-”

“Go ahead. Do it.”

Her walls instantly clenched around him eliciting a jagged groan and his daze darkened. He pounded into her while her climax had her screaming loud enough for him to break. He finished after a burst of inhumanly fast strokes, burying his shaft as deep as he could to shoot his load and riding it out with a few hard snaps of his hips. His eyes never left the sea of her irises.

He leaned back and sat on his heels. The only sound in the room was their ragged breaths. He let his head fall back to relish in the aftermath of his ministrations. She watched the beads of sweat trickle between his abs with each swell of his chest. She never thought she’d find herself in this compromising position with someone like Jimin. Yeah, they made out a few times when they were bored but that couldn’t hold a candle to what just went down.

Jimin slid out and rolled over to lay next to her.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you?”

After a shower that quickly turned into round two, they were dressed and tucked in bed. Her head rested on his chest while she fiddled with the collar of the oversized (on her) grey shirt she’d given him. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his fingers traced her ribs under her shirt in slow, meditative strokes. The old Jimin was back.

“Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you freak so hard with Will? You’ve never gotten in a fight at school, ever.” Her head bobbed with the heavy sigh that escaped him. She lifted her head to look at him. He stared up at the ceiling with a distant look in his eyes. His pink lips curved in a slight grimace.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No. I had to tell someone eventually. It might as well be now with someone I trust.” She couldn’t help the rush of confidence at his comment. That good feeling died quickly when she processed what he said. “My mom used to date this guy, Seunghyun.” He had to pause to adjust to saying his name. “He was nice. I liked him. A lot.” She watched his eyes dart around the ceiling trying to remember details of the memory. “They’d been dating for about a year. He was gonna take me on a boys trip to his lake house for my birthday. My sister….She tried to convince me not to go and…and I didn’t know why.” His voice trembled with the last words. “The first night he made me sleep in the same bed as him…The second night…” He looked up to blink the tears out of his eyes. She reached up and wiped them for him with her thumb. “The second night, we were getting ready for bed, and he asked me if…if I knew what sex was. I said yes thinking he was trying to give me the talk. He asked me…..if I ever touched myself…I didn’t know what to say so I said no.” His voice caught in his throat, his words coming out at a higher pitch. “He-” His lips pulled back in a quivering frown and his chest beat with one single, silent sob.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, take your time.”

“He came up behind me…and he stuc-….he stuck his hand…down my underwear.” His free hand flew to cover his squeezed shut eyes, gripping his forehead. “He kept asking be if I liked how it felt…I said I-I didn’t know so he kept going.” It tore her apart to see him struggling to speak the way he was. Tears of her own started to stream down her cheeks. “I worked up the courage to tell him to stop and he did. I tried to sleep on the couch in the other room but I woke up in his bed the next day. I don’t know if he…did anything, but the third night I was standing on the dock connected to the house. It was too dark for the neighbors to see anything. He came up to me again. He asked how I liked the night before again and I was too afraid to say anything so I didn’t. He did it again, but this time he pulled his out and…tried to get me to…t-touch it. I didn’t so he took my hand in his and…,” he took a deep breath “and he…u-used it to-”

“You don’t have to say it.”

He nodded

“I never finished…he did. I don’t remember the last day but I remember on the ride home, he said that if I told my mom….it would break her heart. And I didn’t want to break her heart-”

His sobs came out in soft, rapid beats but she was quick to pull him into her chest to soak her t-shirt. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and squeezed both arms around her torso while his cries shook the pair in silence. She didn’t say anything, simply wrapping her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his ears and shoulders.

“That wasn’t the only time, was it.” He weakly shook his head into her neck. “You don’t have to talk about it. You already did so great. You’re safe.” She continued to stroke his hair while his shaking began to plateau.

“You’re safe.”

~~~

The next morning was peaceful. Jimin woke up not feeling like shit like he’d expected. He actually felt….good. Given the bomb he dropped last night. But, she didn’t treat him any differently than she did the day before, and he was grateful.

She cooked for him while he showered, and they hung out having their regular old conversations like nothing happened. Although he noticed something. She was sober. It was nearing 6:00pm and he hadn’t seen or smelled weed since he barged in on her session. She stayed sober….for him. He didn’t like to admit it, but he enjoyed sober Y/N better. Granted, he still loved her any other day of the week, but he loved seeing her natural personality when she wasn’t in a dark place at the moment. And she didn’t seem to be now. Sober Y/N was smart. Sober Y/N gave great advice, and before she dropped him off at home, she left him with some.

Jimin typed in the code on the door and the lock clicked with a mechanical whir. Making sure not to make much noise, he shut the door behind him. He made his way upstairs and down the hall. Framed photos of him and Rose dotted the walls, and as time went by, their smiles were more and more forced. No one could tell but them. He eventually stopped in front of the door he was looking for. He softly knocked and he heard a muffled ‘come in.’ He opened the door to his mom’s room where she was sitting in bed, reading glasses on her nose, looking over the blueprints she’d drawn. She was an architect.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

Cover photos by @BIGHITTED on Twitter

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #jimin #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts smut

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beatnicksellar · 3 years

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Marda Loophole: TPB: Issues #7-12

Issue #7 – The Exodus Then: Mada opened her eyes to the inhuman sights and sounds of war Half-men strewn about Bramshott the RCAMC tent soaked in red gore Through the horror she saw her scarecrow the one she treated before Minus a leg he was alive and that was enough to lift her off of the floor Now: Mada opens her eyes to the fuzzy sight of 4 purple children overhead Siphoning energy from a radiant boulder their chant stirs her from the dead A tingle in her toes and sour taste in her mouth the Hole is as Dennis said He labours nearby as the kids stitch Mada together with amethyst thread With the dulling drone done the rock bathes everyone in its immortal hue The old wendigo’s cell unlocks in the uproar allowing her to slip through Before Mada’s blurry eyes the frailest child’s torn from the circuit and slew She can hear the rapacious wendigo sob as she reluctantly continues to chew The plaster walls of the outbuilding begin to buckle from the stone’s potency Suddenly Pope enters the Hole and descends the staircase with much urgency The doctor’s met mid-way by the limping wendigo who embraces him completely Mesmerising him with her wildfire eyes she gladly detaches his loins from his body Dennis returns to find the Hole in shambles with Dot eaten and Dr. Pope screaming He disconnects the kids and requests that Mada give the boys’ lives a new meaning One of the boys grabs a ledger while the other two grip Mada and they begin fleeing Dennis and the wendigo clash by the emitting mound soon buried under the ceiling South Calgary is silent for the first time since the 33 soldiers were secretly dosed But without the hum to calm them they thrashed 33 Avenue like a whipping post Possessed troops overturned the streetcar and chard the theater like it was toast Stiff pedestrians and sate scavengers guide Mada back to her husband Marc’s ghost She mourns over his blood-spattered prosthesis as one boy reads a shard of glass His brothers study the ledger as he peers into the sliver to see what’ll comes to pass ‘We’ll return when the streetcar does’ the scrying boy points to the upturned mass With crazed GIs loose Mada and her boys depart while a curious crow tails her ass… Issue #8 – The Wild Boys ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩ A gayageum plays notes from the concerto called Dorothea The ribbon of rhythm writhes on the airstreams over Korea Baroque tones stir the ancient visage which inspired its idea Eddying over the ocean to hover above a 33rd avenue pizzeria ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫ The melody meanders up 20th street pausing at its composer Three long-haired boys that look 10 but are very much older Standing before Currie Barracks Condo they are of one mourner The unrelated triplets commiserate over their deceased sister ‘I cannot feel her in there’ John the empath of the family confirms ‘I cannot reach her’ Robert retorts ‘all I hear is Dennis and worms’ Scryer James perceives future events but cannot grasp their terms ‘All I see is that the stone has been scattering its ill will like germs’ Treating the condo as if a gravestone they pay respect to her spirit With unkempt heads down the trinity are subdued for a moment Each recalls Dot, the Hole, the old woman then all begin to fidget John pulls a music sheet out of his shorts and whistles a snippet ♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♩♫♬♪♩♬♩♫♪♩♫♩♬♪♬♪♩♬♪♩♫♪♬ James and Robert join him in his performance of Dorothea No. 4 When done John tosses the concerto down onto the sewer floor As they skate through the Loop Mada’s name hangs in every store Coffee shops hum with anticipation over the 70-year-old folklore Around the corner of 35th avenue is where a hungry entity stalks A hefty shadow cast from a vacant lot that limps wherever it walks The boys are too distracted to notice the relic from Pandora’s Box Because a fireball is about to knock’em out of their graphic socksIssue #9 – The Vacant LotYellow barricades protect the rich soil within the vacant lotThough ideal for growth it’s contaminated by junkyard rot Comparable to the toxin that comprises Hausis’ blood clot An

inherit gift from her father and the affects it has wrought Over a century old she has been scarred twice by the stoneAs well Hausis has been forced out of more than one homeFrom her log cabin to that school and finally the catacomb A hole she fled full of a plum, revenge and astral syndrome Dark energy leached into her, those boys and the headless one Wendigo mixed with indigo and once again she was on the run But on the Rez her spirits calmed; she even adopted a grandson It was the last time she felt love as the Sixties Scoop had begun Hungry and hateful she hid her mercy and fed on colonial fears Hitchhiking Highway 16 in the 1970s she traded entrails for tears Retribution for her surrogate sisters who had began to disappear When the stone summoned her home she returned with souvenirs She settled in South Calgary and became a landlord to tasty tenants Bones buried in the vacant lot next-door while lying to their parents A cane sword to assist her limp and cutback on the slaying minutes Serrated steel dentures to masticate and absorb her preys’ essence A century old entity at last content with her damned life up until TONIGHT When her plums return assured and still ripe enough to enjoy a quick biteWhen her bone yard is deemed aseptic and police investigation is in sightHausis lunges at the wild boys only to be repelled by a nimbus of starlight… Issue #10 – The Above People CREEEAK! The tactless teenager forcefully opens the oxidized attic door In search of a white wig for her cosplay getup she stomps across the floor Rummaging through containers she finds something unusual in a drawer A thirteen-year-old letter that when opened clarifies exactly who it is for ‘Aline: It’s with regret and sadness that I write this letter to my daughter’ ‘I had to go to a dangerous place so I left you to be raised by your father’ ‘I never stopped loving you or dreaming of the day we would be together’ ‘When you are ready to meet amass juniper twigs and a magpie feather’ Elated to see her mislaid mother Aline flees the loft in her space-opera costume She sprints across 35 Avenue towards a vacant lot shrouded by juniper in bloom Ripping off a bouquet Aline is unaware that just beyond bodies are being exhumed She spots a pudgy magpie perched on the yellow barricade and plucks at its plume Clutching the vital items the Big Dipper shaped beauty marks on her right arm glows FWOOOOM! A blinding white light descends from overhead lifting her off of her toes Aline suddenly finds herself in a melancholy landscape of stars, clouds and shadows Before her sit 2 enormous Above People who enquire as to her odd-looking clothes ‘It’s for Comic-con’ she roars removing the wig ‘who’re you and where’s my mom’ Sun God laughs as Moon Goddess speaks: ‘We see that you were raise with aplomb’ The electric entities sizzle and pop as they struggle to alleviate Aline’s many qualms ‘Your father fell in love with our granddaughter: the Morning Star he wished upon’ ‘But she had to return to Sky-Country to rid it of the evil her mother had let loose’ Mother Moon details how Feather Woman disobeyed and iniquity was introduced ‘She moved the giant turnip that which protects our portal because she was obtuse’ Mother Moon adds she encased the dummy in indigo stone and made her vamoose That is the past but the portal remains open for dark matter to infest Sky-Country The same stuff brought down with the stone when it crashed in the 19th century Aline accuses her great-grandparents of killing her kin and for spreading villainy The Gods giggle at the allegation clarifying Feather Woman merely has an injury More gen is traded and a deal is struck: if Aline fixes the portal all will be forgiven Above People will help find the Morning Star and teach Aline of her nuclear fusion KRA-KOOM! A fiery comet crashes and Aline emerges from impact like a magician Gazing at the wild boys she states ‘You dudes are my gran and we have a mission’… Issue #11 – The Penultimate Sequential squares spread over an infinitude of glittering stars Panels parted by gutters spanning

centuries between the bars A billboard advertises Marc and Mada’s forthcoming memoirs Christened Marda; Loop denotes the superannuated streetcar Inset in the ad is a shot of Magpie gnawing on a decayed thumb bone Balanced on the sign she spots a bird below who was once well known Magpie cries: ‘Ain’t seen you since you left with THAT there veiled crone’ Alit next to Magpie Crow recalls his ghastly exploits beyond the stone ‘It was Hell’ he croaks ‘The screaming, the silence, the suicide attempts’ ‘It took HER forever to bond with THOSE boys and get over her regrets’ ‘Once she did’ Crow pauses ‘she spearheaded some tantalizing events’ Led by the ledger and scryed images they tracked the fiery GIs’ contempt While 7 indigo infected ones enlisted for Korea 26 settled in Forest City An innocuous epithet for somewhere death stalked the streets regularly Enclosed by thickets it’s where butchers would conceal a mutilated body ‘The Serial Killer Capital’ Crow yelps ‘We lured them out during the 1960s’ Crow clarifies that when the GIs moved there each become a major player: Mad Slasher, Bedroom Strangler, Balcony Killer + the Chambermaid Slayer Mada the bait, Crow the lookout, and 3 wild boys unified became the healer ‘In the forest we’d draw out the purple poison leaving the mortals tamer’ Mada’s nursing background afforded them a home and a baby-grand piano She worked while under pseudonyms the boys penned novels & concertos ‘Forest City was safe and we had obtained almost all of that fugitive indigo’ ‘Almost’ Crow echoed ‘We left for Korea in ‘81 on a plane from Toronto’ Magpie squawks sceptically: ‘And then miraculously back for the 70th Anniversary’ {Had it been that long?} the crone ponders {Why did they whitewash my tragedy?} The veiled woman below the advert grimaces then utters anachronistic profanity Stalwart in stance she shudders when the #7 rolls by renewed for the pageantry… Issue #12 – Giant-Size Finale The fixed indigo stone pulsates expelling the remnants of its space toxin Pumped into the faucets of 22 occupants of the new condo atop its coffin Dragging fingers thru mauve hair they’re rapt by the stone’s dim doctrine They riot inside the structure while outside Mada and her wild boys lock in ‘Try it again’ the costumed Aline guides from inside the infinite sealed loop She has juniper and feather in hand yet something is off within their group ‘That thing’s teeing me off’ Mada breaks from the ring and sits on the stoop The rebuilt #7 streetcar gleams in the parking lot next to an effigy of troops Suddenly…a service door opens and the old wendigo limps out of the edifice ‘You’ Hausis growls at Aline ‘You’re relations with that Metis bastard Dennis’ Mada perks up at the name of the man who inadvertently made her endless ‘Are you?’ Mada asks ‘She sure is’ Hausis sniffs ‘and it’s making me ravenous’ Incensed Mada bares the jagged indigo scar spanning the length of her collar ‘Dennis did this’ she states ‘and orchestrated the 1950 South Calgary slaughter’ Aline has entirely no clue as to what occurred because of her great-grandfather And before Mada can educate her the group is spotted by a police helicopter ‘Freeze Ms. Cranmer’ a voice booms as a squad car pulls up with guns drawn Hausis has been hiding since police uncovered the bodies she had feasted on Clotheslined and cuffed the 145-year-old Cree woman is beaten with a baton Aline, Mada and wild boys watch in horror as Hausis is tenderized like carrion The wild child named Robert tugs at Aline’s skirt pointing at the departing cop car ‘Dot’ the 80-year-old kid chirps ‘The hungry lady has carried our sister’s soul so far’ Mada is not their 4th because it is the frail child Hausis mauled like a chocolate bar ‘We need that granny back’ Aline barks at Mada who turns away rubbing her scar Aline suggests they take the idle #7 and propel it with a trick she has just learned ‘Can I borrow a feather from your crow?’ she asks of Mada who still feels scorned Crow leaves Magpie atop the streetlamp landing beside Aline his feathers formed ‘I am not getting on that ’

Mada repeats just as the crazed tenants emerge armed KRA-KOOM! The refurbished #7 streetcar rockets down 20th street like a fireball Crow and Magpie try to slow the tenants’ progress to the 33rd avenue mini-mall Meanwhile the #7 zips down the parade route until it hits the cruiser then a wall Everyone on the #7 is unscathed and so too is Hausis who’s eating a cop’s eyeball Magpie and Crow flutter in to warn everyone of the approaching horde of tenants The wild boys jump into action with a hand out for Hausis who sees it as penance ‘Doesn’t make me a plum’ she gripes grasping John’s hand as if she is pregnant As the 4 siblings unite clouds appear and a powerful deluge forms within minutes The first drop hits as the vicious throng reaches Marda Loop then the sky cries The drenched tenants lose their momentum as the mauve washes over their eyes The rain relents as does the horde but Mada’s inner ire cannot be overemphasized The wild boys embrace Hausis and in turn Dot whose soul has now been reprisedOnlookers have gathered at the site sad to see there’s no anniversary to reminisce Crow and Magpie peck at the injured police officers as Aline stares into the abyss She apologizes to Mada for her relative’s actions but asks for her not to be remiss ‘We cannot change the past’ she points out ‘But if you help us now we can fix this’The wendigo, the crone, the wild boys, the star-child and the scavengers all return Loitering outside of the Currie Barracks condo building hashing out their concerns Hausis has subsisted with the stone while in exile so she knows where it’s interned In the bowels of the sub-basement they find the ancient rock fading in a slow burn John, James and Robert the perpetual 10-year-olds encircle Aline and embrace her Hausis jeers as the boys kiss their kin then whisper in Mada’s ear: Goodbye Mother The siblings start siphoning the stone’s essence back; Aline waves Magpie’s feather Hausis and the boys convert to stardust they swirl around the stone and then enter Aline and Mada escape the building as the boulder flies backwards thru the nexus Its trajectory bearing straight for Sky-Country where it will rid the land of sepsis The portal is sealed and The Above People welcome Feather Woman and Hausis Back in South Calgary Mada stands in the quiet rubble no longer feeling headless ‘Wanna meet my dad?’ Aline asks of her lithe friend who nods producing a smile Mada calls Crow but he and Magpie are stardust in a constellation of their profile Unveiled Mada and neophyte Aline walk towards a rainbow after their long trial As both fade over the hill stardust diffuses and floats to somewhere worthwhile An End

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wongiemei · 5 years

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Roommate!Jeno

a/n: maybe i should just turn this blog into an nct dream one

okay

letsgetit!

first of all,

story time!

your uni is fucking expensive and it’s more expensive if you live in the grounds

so you being the wise human,

you went to get an apartment near the campus

it was great and all since roommate!jaemin was paying for his stuff

you were both living respectively until he had to leave

the dumbass didnt even bother to tell you

one morning you just woke up and found his note

‘hey bitch! figured you were too much of a rock to wake up but i moved out! the family wants me to go back home and tend the restaurant’

the whole day yesterday, you were working

bc,,, yknow

broke college life

and you just walked in half asleep towards your room and fell asleep

so you didnt really see or notice

but were you freaking out bc your roommate suddenly moved out?

ofc you were freaking out

not only was your roommate gone,

how were you going to find a new one?!

jaemin expected your phone call that afternoon and he endured through all your screaming

‘babe, i’m just going to be gone for a year-or two’

‘oR tWO?!’

‘hun, my dad’s injured and his back can only let him do so much. ma’s working too much and i dont have any siblings to help. i figured i could just hold off college until my parents are ready’

ugh, jaemin is such a family boy

‘but jaems! you couldnt have at least told me that yOu wERe mOvING OuT?! and! rent is due soon! i can’t pay for that myself!’

jaemin couldve easily told you to warn yoy

but he didn’t want to tell you bc he couldnt handle you sad and didnt want to upset you

however, now jaemin really understands how shitty that move was

‘tell you what. i’ll pay for this month and make a few phone calls and i’ll get you set up with a new roommate, deal?’

knowing how much of a social butterfly he was, you agreed

ofc you trusted jaemin but part of you feared that he might pair you up with a freak

but he’s not that mean, is he?

you can definitely see renjun doing that but not jaemin

so there you are,,

sitting on your couch alone

without jaemin, your apartment felt really empty

its been a few days since he moved and you were miserable

jaemin hasn’t even texted you about that potential roommate

just as you were about to call him,,

your doorbell rang

you froze and you looked at the time

it was nearing 11 at night and you don’t remember ordering delivery

see,,

if jaemin was here,

he would answer it for you since you would be too scared to do it

but you mustered up your courage and peeped through the peep hole

the man was dressed in all black with a black mask and a black cap with his hood over it with a black hoodie and black pants

ngl, you were terrified and trembling

he rang it again and you jumped

typing out a quick text to jaemin saying ‘hey bub, if i don’t text you in an hour, that means ive been kidnapped so call the police’

you grabbed a pan from the cupboard and gulped before you opened the door

thinking he would just walk forward and grab you, you closed your eyes and raised your pan over your head and swung

a shriek from in front of you made your eyes snap open and found the guy on the floor with a fetal position

you both just froze for like a phat minute

snapping back to reality, you held the pan in front of you

‘if youre going to kidnap me, i got a pan and im not afraid to hit you with it!’

you tried to sound intimidating but your voice was shaking so much

the guy stood up and he took off his hat and the mask to reveal a blonde haired kid

okay, so you were sHOokETh

damn! this boy is fine!

he gave you a shaky smile and held out his hand

‘hi! i’m lee jeno! you must be y/n? jaemin told me you had an opening for a roommate?’

now you noticed the two duffle bags at the side

the embaressment and the shame settled in slowly and you found yourself burning up

nodding, you motioned him to come in

jeno awkwardly walked in and was amazed at how big the layout was with the low rent

‘yea, its kinda hard to believe that we only pay that much. at first i thought there was a ghost in here and that’s why its so cheap’

you tried to make small conversation but laughed weirdly at jeno’s slightly terrified face

‘no! there really is not ghost here! ive lived here for a year and there hasnt been anything so please dont understand! please be my roommate!’

you begged and jeno thought you were weird

but jaemin was right, you were weirdly adorable in a way

so that’s how you and jeno became apartment buddies!

now onto the good stuff!

so, jeno is a vv clean guy

like he’s the type to just pick up a wrapper in the street and throw it in the garbage

so naturally, he likes to keep the apartment as tidy and neat as possible

but you being a mess you are,

you usually leave a lot of things everywhere

lets just say you have a short memory

‘oh? how did that get there?’

eventually, jeno gets sick of it and he confronts you with it

ofc you understand and you actually try to be better

since jeno is literally the most perfect roommate

maybe even better than jaemin

(but don’t tell him that)

jeno is the type to re-stock the pantry with snacks and the fridge with ice cream

since youre both college students, ramen is practically always available in the house 24/7

he also makes the coffee every morning since he works early and wakes up first

even though he doesn’t like the drink and prefers milk, he still notices how you survive off of coffee

babie likes to pick you up some iced americano while he gets a frappe

you on the other hand,,

you’re very surprised

when you got to bed after showing jeno around,

you messaged jaemin

ofc he was worried af and was blowing up your phone

‘WHAT?!’

‘bitch answer the damn phone!’

‘whatthe fuck is happening?!’

‘i need to know if you’re still alive!’

‘oh fuck i shouldnt have moved out’

smiling softly at how worried he was, you responded to him

‘you hoe, it hasnt been an hour yet so chillax. i’m alive, unfortunately, and i just met my new roommate. again, thanks for the heads-up. youre so bad at those. i literally thought he was a burgular or a kidnapper. but he seems chill and emo. just my type.’

but jeno is F A R from C H I L L

oh my goodness,,

hes a crackhead

theres this sound he makes when he’s confused and you couldnt figure out if its cute or weird or if he’s doing this on purpose or thats just how he is

you and him basically communicate with memes

sometimes, at the weird hours at night, he sends you a dumbass meme

you cant help but snort

also, you promised to take jaemin out to dinner to repay him for the great roommate

‘hes literally one of the best people youll ever meet. it just so happen he needed a place to sleep. now you owe me’

hes a science major while you were a computer major

he basically brings home weird stuff to analyze and it just hella stinks

but hes considerate enough to actually put it outside

whenever he’s focused, he talks to himself or the thing he’s analyzing

‘okay mr. fishy. your scales are really big and its bigger than average’

its so cute

oof also!

jeno doesnt have a job yet he always makes rent on time with extra money to spare

he even sometimes buys you stuff saying, ‘they reminded me of you’

for your birthday, he bought you a pearl necklace that mustve costed thousands

at first, you thought he was a chaebol or smth

which you wouldve been vv jealous of bc youre a struggling college student who works at the coffee shop

but, you were answered when you caught him walking in half-dazed and half-asleep with cuts all over his face

it was like 2 in the morning and you were pulling an all-nighter for some project and wanted to get a glass of water

but here he is, hood up, lip busted, black eye, cheek cut

you shrieked and ushered him to sit on the dining chair

thinking he got mugged or something, you start drilling him questions

‘hun, if you were beat up, we need to call the police! this is illegal!’

but jeno chuckles and brushes the stray hairs out of your face as you tend to his lip

‘pls dont. if you do, ill be broke and i wont have money to pay rent then i cant be your roommate anymore’

cue confused y/n

‘wUT?’

‘if i dont make money, youll kick me out and youll have to find another roommate. i dont want you to go through that hassle again’

ofc you were flattered that even during this situation, hes still thinking about you

‘how is this making money?!’

‘i cant believe youre oblivious to so many things. i thought for sure youve caught on.’

more confusion

‘eXCUse mE, lEE JEno? since when have you started coming home with all these things in your face?’

you were worried that this wasnt the first time this happened

but if you think hard about it, thats why he always wears his mouth masks and he always has his blonde fringe down and sometimes wears sunglasses even though its cloudy outside

‘ohmygod lee jeno are you in a gang?!’

jeno was shocked that you came to that conclusion but laughed at how adorable you were rn

with your wide eyes and mouth open

‘nah, bro. i box. its the only way i can make easy money.’

‘but,,, why did you hide this from me? if you needed money i couldve helped you’

he looked at you skeptically

‘sis, you could barely afford that muffin the other day’

lee jeno now looked different from the jeno you met the first day

What you thought to be an innocent little squish was a fighter at night

‘yah, can-um-you need to take this off’

you mumbled while tugging on his sweatshirt

he nodded and slipped it off

he explained why he came late when he first moved

‘i had a late night match and yknow,, school and all, i barely had enough time to come'

as you dab the wound, you try to make small talk to distract yourself

‘so,, youve been boxing this whole time?’

you asked, trying not to get distracted to the way his tight shirt clung to him, showing his defined body

there were bruises up and down his arms and his knuckles were busted

‘yea. i have been since senior high. gotta make money, yknow?’

‘but jen, you can work in coffee shops or at local bookstores. its not worth seeing you busted up like this’

your lips trembled at the thought of him being beaten up too hard to the point he gets into a coma

jenos eyes widened at your wobbling lips and he softly cupped your face

‘hey, im okay and ill be fine. you dont have to worry about me. i usually win, anyways’

his confidence made you chuckle

‘i trust you, lee jeno. just make sure to make it home to me every night.’

‘i know you do and i will. always.”

ever since then,

youve become his little caretaker

youve informed jaemin of what hes been doing and he knew but didnt want you to judge him immediately

smh, jaemin really sucks at informing people

but jeno tries to help you keep up

he even sends you texts that hes fighting that night and your little ‘fighting!’ always makes him smile

his manager and friend, chenle, noticed that hes starting to smile more

chenle likes boxing and wants to be a part of it but doesnt want to be hurt

so,, what better to be the manager of his friend

‘yah, hyung. what’s got you giggly today?’

jeno pointed to the screen and giggled at the little good luck gif you sent

his eyes turned to crescents and chenle smirked

‘wah, you like her, don’t you?’

at the mention of ‘like’, his smile dropped and he shook his head

‘no. of course not. shes just a friend.’

chenle being chenle,,

he continues to prod

‘okay. so every night, you make it your priority to make sure you’re home by 2 in the morning for your friend’

smh, chenle youre so annoying

but hes so right

ever since you caught him,

hes been making sure he gets home at the same time

he sends you a text that hes on his way and you set your ringtone at a very high volume so you wake up and take care of him

during fights, he makes it his sole mission to make out of this alive and a winner for you

but that never crossed his mind as his feelings for you

he just thought of it as making you not worry for him

but then, he starts to think about your stupid little habits

the way you make this face whenever you dont understand

or when you still leave little post-it notes everywhere with ideas you come up with

he noticed it all and he loves them

‘hOLy ShIT!’

that night was when he realized his feelings for you and he was so dedicated on finishing it that he quickly won and he dashed home with his money

bursting through the door, you looked at him with wide and startled eyes

‘what’s wrong?’

you came running but he scooped you up to a hug

ok you were confused but relieved that he was home and alright

jeno looked at your face and wanted to confess but chickened out at the sight of you

you were so good to him and honestly, he doesnt deserve you

(his thoughts, not mine)

‘i-i’

he stuttered and you motioned him to continue

‘i won!’

he shouted and you congratulated him, even though he literally won all the time

guiding him to the chair, you began to dab his cuts

(dab that bitch)

‘im starting to think that your opponents either really suck or youre like the god of boxing’

he didnt know how to take that but blushed red at the mention of him being a ‘god of boxing’

‘nah, im just good’

you eyed him and smiled

he continued to watch you heal him and inspected your face

heavy eyebags and sunken cheeks, it mustve been a long night

he felt a pang in his chest thinking that you push your stuff away just to help him

‘you dont have to keep doing this for me, yknow’

you halt and look at him seriously

‘i know i dont. but i cant sleep at night thinking youre in pain and alone when i can be there for you’

even though he just realized it, jeno was pretty sure he fell in love with you a long time ago

but if it was possible, he fell in love with you even more

‘thank you’

his soft voice filled the silence and you vowed that you will always be there for him whenever he needs help

a few days later, jeno hasnt been to a fight

sure you were worried at what was going on in his head but partly relieved that you dont have to see him so battered anymore

but this was so un-jeno

just as you were about to talk to him about it, he announces he got a job at the bookstore down the street

‘huh? i thought you didnt want to work’

you question while he looked sheepish

‘i realized that i was starting to become a burden since you take care of me every time. so i thought i should quit and get a regular job. besides, it doesnt hurt as much’

he laughed but you didnt react

‘lee jeno, you gave up boxing and the money,,, for me?’

he nervously looked up at you and you noticed the redness of his cheeks

‘i-well-if you put it that way’

‘listen to me, im flattered and i truly love that you dont want to get beaten up anymore. but i dont want you to quit something you like because of me'

‘but you always take care of me and push your priorities away to clean me up. i dont do anything in return and i dont think its fair!’

he argued and a soft smile crept up your face

‘yah, lee jeno'

your voice became a whisper

‘it doesnt matter to me if you dont do anything in return bc i dont see this as a favor. you are mine to take care of and i will do anything for you, you understand that?’

he looked at you in shock after hearing your response

he also turned red at the mention of him being yours

‘so-but-i dont think-'

he stutters but you place your hands on his arms making him stop

‘all i ask is you to come back home, to come back to me'

by now, yall were blushing

even though it might not sound like it,

but yall just indirectly confessed to each other

yall stared at the ground and jeno looks up, biting his lip

‘hey, y/n, can i make it up to you with some coffee?’

your head darted up and looked at him with wide eyes

‘like-like a date?’

it came out suddenly and you stepped back in surprise, cursing yourself

but jeno chuckled, eyes scrunching cutely

‘it'll be one of many'

lmao i didnt really like this but i made it at 2 in the morning and i kinda like boxer!jeno

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ashisbaeee · 4 years

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Her Part 11

a/n: hello lovelies, my goodness, it has been forever since I’ve last been on here and more importantly since updated this series. thank you all so much for being so understanding and patient for my absence, I greatly appreciate it.

here is the long awaited part 11, I truly hope you all enjoy it and that it was worth the wait.💗as always, your feedback is greatly appreciated, I love hearing what you guys think of the chapter.

sorry for any errors

word count: 4.1k(eek!)

italics are Y/N’s thoughts

for those who are interested, I will have the previous parts here:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

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Shock, disbelief coursed through you, completely taking over your frame. What was once your cozy home became uncomfortable, wishing you were still out, albeit your feet were killing you, anywhere else than your quiet home and away from him. You could feel his eyes on you, but you dared not look. You had glued your eyes to the ground; wishing this was some terrible dream. You didn’t need this, not right now. If you were being frank, this was possibly the worst time as he will eventually take in your full appearance, your bump in full display. You never wanted to see his face now and certainly not ever. This wouldn’t be good for you, and ultimately, this wouldn’t be good for the baby. Stood right smack in the middle was the last person on earth you prayed you’d never see again. Shock and anger coursed through you. You could feel your heart racing, your breathing was becoming erratic. You noticed your quickened heartbeat; you could feel it pulsing in your carotid arteries, you were beginning to get a massive migraine and you were becoming a bit nauseous. The room started to spin, it was as if you were back in your first trimester of pregnancy again.

Quick, let me find a garbage can in the event I hurl my guts out.

You pushed that thought to the back of your mind as you took in the man that broke your heart invading your home. And how your sister let him in?! She must have been out of her damn mind. No good was to come out of this. But that was a discussion for a later time.

What is he doing here?! You exclaimed.

“Please Y/N, let me explain” your sister pleads.

“Then get to it” you spoke, your patience gone the moment you stepped foot into your home.

“I saw him while I was at the grocery store. Actually, he saw me and approached me.”

“That doesn’t explain as to how he got here. Meeting at the grocery store doesn’t lead into coming into my home” you interjected.

“I’m getting to that part, so please, just listen” she spoke, while he stood silent a few feet from the both of you.

“He came up to me and asked me how you were doing. Before I could even respond, he said he had seen you with me. He knew that we were both around the area as he had seen pictures of us”

“Pictures from where?!”you interrupted yet again, but you didn’t care.

“Uh, a fan had sent them to me” finally, the man had broken his silence.

Your head snapped so quickly you were surprised it didn’t crack or something possibly worse.

“What??!! A fan?! A fan! How on earth did they even get a picture? Explain”

“A fan had seen you a couple times, or at least that’s what she told me. She sent the pictures-- err- she sent me DMs of you both via Instagram, and this isn’t the first time she has DMed me. One day, as I quickly scrolled passed through my DMs, your name caught my eye. Without thinking, I clicked on the message and that was when I saw your pictures, it was a picture of you smiling. I thought it was a joke, some skilled photoshop or something. My curiosity got the best of me and I couldn’t bear the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ and I was driving myself lad so I think a couple of days later, I sent her a message asking where she saw you. Which brings us to where we are now”

“So she freely sent you the town I’m at?!”

“Well, uhm, yeah. Uh. Yes, she did. Please, calm down”

“I can’t calm down” your voice rising.

“I don’t get why you’re so angry”

Oh hell no. He did not just say that.

“Angry? Want to know why I’m so angry? It’s because what she did was an invasion of privacy?”

“You know, out of all the people in this room, I should be the one that’s angry. Angry that you left me without a trace. How you deliberately went to all extents to erase yourself from the world. You went completely ghost on me. You went to great lengths to make sure that I would never be able to find you ever again. Do you know how sick and worried I was? I didn’t know if you were okay and there was no way for me to find out. God forbid something happened to you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing or not knowing if you were okay or not killed me. So yeah, I am angry, and understandably so” his voice matching yours.

“When did you feel that? When did all those emotions hit you? Huh? Please, enlighten me. Right after I did everything I could to ensure you would never find me again? Don’t act like you cared since the beginning. Clearly you did not care that day when you and the group realized a whole while later that you had left me at the Jimmy Kimmel studio. I get that you were so excited for the movie, trust me, I understand but it really seemed like the movie mattered more than me. Not to sound jealous or anything. But really, I felt like I was invisible and in my opinion, it seemed like a total waste of time and money flying out to you, and that day was a total wake up call; I got your message, loud and clear. A part of me thinks that maybe you’ve never really cared for me, uh, but only you know that answer. But it seems like you have a lot to say, so by all means, Tom, please, entertain me, since I clearly don’t have anything else better to do” the sarcasm clearly evident in your tone. “You were so preoccupied with the movie and talking about the love scenes and all the places you were all about to visit, how it was working alongside Jake Gyllenhaal, that of course you’d forget me. It was as if I was never there, I felt invisible. Like I was an afterthought, it was stupid of me to think that I mattered to you. I regret flying out to see you, that is time and money I can’t take back”

“Oh stop that, don’t be dumb” he says exasperatedly.

Just as you were about to reply, you stopped in your tracks. Your pent up anger greatly affecting you and ultimately the baby too, all of your emotions consuming your entire being that you felt sharp pains running at your side. It was as if someone had ran up to you and stabbed you in your ribs. You kneel to the ground clutching the right side of your body as you hunch over in pain. Your sister notices your sudden moves and rushes to your side, she tries to calm you down, and tells you to do some deep breathing exercises but you can’t, the pain was too unbearable.

You ended up changing positions and curled yourself into a fetal position as you clutched your side. You were in agony, the pain was so excruciating that you started crying. Panic courses to all three of you. Seeing you in this state killed him. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing you in pain and upset; and here you were, feeling both. Something was definitely wrong. He and your sister decided to take you to the hospital. He offers to drive while your sister tries to help you calm down and relax. Instinctively, he scoops you up from where you were and carried you bridal style; he carries you into the backseat of the car and buckles you up. While waiting for your sister, he quickly typed the nearest hospital address in his phone GPS, and in a matter of seconds, he got the car up and running and began his route.

You could feel yourself profusely sweating. Your body was shaking uncontrollably, assuming that you were becoming hypothermic because of this added stress, your body’s defense mechanism in complete overdrive. Your heart was racing, as you put your index and middle finger in the inner aspect of your wrist, just below your left thumb, you felt the pulsations. Your pulse was bounding, you couldn’t even count your heartbeat, it was just beating erratically.

It must be somewhere in the 150s or higher. Who knows. Baby, I hope you’re alright in there. We are on our way to the hospital. I truly hope and pray that you’re not in any distress, I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you, I don’t know what I’d do if I find out you aren’t okay. I can’t bear the thought of possibly losing you. God knows what I would do if I find out you aren’t okay. Please, baby, mommy’s begging you, please be okay, for You thought to yourself, as a few tears fell, ultimately landing on your sweater.

It felt like forever, but you finally arrived at the hospital. Tom pulled into the entrance to the Emergency Department and quickly ran in to get help. Within minutes you saw 3 people running towards the car with a stretcher. They assisted you into the stretcher safely and brought you in, Tom rushing alongside you all, matching the strides of the hospital staff and your sister in tow. Immediately you were brought into your room and you were hooked up to the monitors. More staff came in to get an IV line inserted as well get blood and urine samples for routine testing. They took off the sweater you were wearing and quickly put on a hospital gown. They realized you were expecting, so they planned to get the OB resident involved in your case.

Everything and everyone was moving rather quickly, you began to feel dizzy again. Without warning, you started to vomit. Your fight or flight instincts kicking into maximum overdrive, your body’s internal homeostasis all out of whack. You assume that this was your body’s weird way of dealing with this distress.

If there was one thing you got from this pregnancy, it was that stress plus your body was not a good mix. You got extremely ill whenever your body’s homeostasis was out of the norm. Your body’s way of dealing with the stress/situation at hand.

In the midst of your body retching, getting rid of all the contents of your stomach, you happened to muster up enough energy to look up at the monitor. Heart rate 198, Blood pressure 180/120. Holy shit. One of the nurses had hooked up an external fetal monitor to your bump; the alarms were going off as soon as it turned on, as per the monitor, your baby’s heart rate was 175. That was out of the norm; normal fetal heart rate is 120-160. How you were still awake and conscious and aware of your surroundings was beyond you. A person with those vital signs usually pass out, goes into cardiac arrest or have a stroke. They were then immediately intubated, had a foley catheter and had a central line inserted instead of just a peripheral line and whisked into the critical care unit. It was almost shocking that you hadn’t passed out or lose consciousness. You’ve seen it happen countless times, I guess you were one of the rare cases.

You end up passing out. While you are unconscious, he meets up with your sister and the doctors, your sister informed him that she got in contact with your parents and that they were on their way.

The doctors waited for your parents to arrive before leading you all into a private room to talk about their plan once all the test results come in. After discussing your plan of care, they brought him into your room, and that, at that moment, was when he took in your appearance. That was when he saw your bump, you’re pregnant.

Had it really been that long since he last saw you? So many thoughts ran rampant in his mind. Who was the baby’s father? Will he be coming to meet up with your family? Will he sit beside you and wait until you woke up? His consuming thoughts elicited the pain he worked so hard to suppress. The love of his life was having a baby with someone that was not him. His lifelong dream to marry you and start a family with was shattered; now becoming his worst nightmare. In just a short time, he would come face to face with the lucky man who now has you.

After some time, you wake up. Your family rushed to your side and held you tightly, relieved that you regained consciousness. He stood in the back of the room and watched the moment.

You were consumed with talking with your parents that you didn’t realize he left the room. He leaves and heads to the nurse’s station to alert them that you’ve woken up.

He comes in to let your parents know that your nurse was paging the residents to let them know you were awake. As he spoke, he dared not look at your direction. He maintained eye contact with your parents. As you lie in bed, you took in his image. Never in a million years did you think you would bump into him again. After all this time, he managed to stay the same. The same lanky, curly headed fool that you were once in love with. You could see the look on his face; the look of heartbrokenness, mixed with him being a little more pale than usual. He looked so hurt, so empty. Every single one of your family members felt it too. They knew that it wasn’t their business, but just like everyone else(everyone that mattered), they loved and shipped the idea of you both, and seeing the two of you apart and so broken, broke them too.

He whispered something to them and left your room.

It had been quite some time and he still had not returned to your room. Worried, you send your sister to look for him, or at least see if he was okay, or if he had left(again), without saying goodbye.

She obliges to your wish and leaves your room. About 100 feet from your room, she sees his frame in one of the chairs. He sat in one of the chairs in the hospital waiting room, his hands brought up to his face. As your sister made her way to the seat beside him, she rested her hand on his shoulder. Shocked at the action, he looks up. With flushed cheeks and red eyes, he locked eyes with hers. She couldn’t help it, it wasn’t long before she started crying too.

“How is she doing?”

“She seems okay, she’s talking to mom and dad right now. She was wondering where you went, so she sent me to find you. Are you going to go back?”

“N-no, I don’t think so. I don’t think that’ll be good for her. I think it is best that I leave, please send her my regards and well wishes; also, please tell her I send my congratulations, she’s going to be such an amazing mother. I’ve never doubted that, not in the slightest bit. She was always so good with kids” his voice quivered, the agony clearly evident.

“I know it’s hard, but please. Just go in, I’m sure she would like to see you and thank you for taking her here. What do you have to lose?”

He sat silent, contemplating his decisions.

What does he have to lose?

“Okay, I’ll go in”

Content with his answer, she nods her head.

“Y/S/N, can I ask you something? Is, is, she still angry? Is she still upset about what happened? I want to explain myself, but I don’t know if that will do more harm than good. Things clearly did not go as I had hoped it would earlier today, I mean come on, look where it landed us- I mean her, and her baby. I don’t want to stress her out any more. She doesn’t need that, she needs to focus on getting better, for herself and the baby. I am afraid to ask her, but what is she having? A boy or girl?”

“I don’t know, really. I don’t, I, I uh haven’t asked her. I feel like it’s none of my business, y’know? Like I don’t want to bring it up and upset her or something. Try and see if she’s willing to listen, you honestly never know unless you ask and try again. Anyways, she’s having a girl. We are all so excited. I swear, the baby isn’t born yet but she’s already so spoiled. I can’t even imagine how it’ll be when she’s actually here”

“Uhm, yeah, maybe I’ll ask her. I’m going to take it one step at a time”

She gets up from her seat and waits for him. It wasn’t long before they arrived back into your room.

She enters first and takes her seat right by your parents. He shuts the door and stands in his original spot.

You knew you needed to have a conversation with him, to continue with the conversation you both had before coming to the ED.

Your whole family sensed some kind of tension in the air. They figured you both needed to have this conversation, even though both parties were hesitant.

Your parents tell you that they were going to grab some dinner and needed your sister to come along with them, making up an excuse really, so that you and him were left with no choice but to talk. It was a long time coming. Well needed too.

The three of them left, leaving you and him. You could feel the awkwardness in the air.

You figured he was going to leave.

“Do-do you want me to keep you company until they return?” he finally spoke

“Uh, it’s up to you. You can leave if you want. I’ll be okay, I’m hooked to the monitors, so the doctors and nurses on the unit can keep an eye out on me. If anything happens, they have everyone’s numbers, so they’ll get in contact with them. You must be exhausted”

“Actually, I’m okay. But if you want me to leave so you can rest, I can. Maybe I’ll stop by tomorrow, if you want me to”

“I’m actually okay too. If you want to come by again tomorrow, you can. Uh, I. Uh, I, I just want to say thank you. Y’know, for taking me here”

“Y-yeah, of-of course. I’m sorry; for what I said earlier. You’re not dumb, not in the slightest”

“I’m sorry too”

“Can we talk?”

“I thought that was what we were doing?”

“I mean, like talk, talk”

“About?”

“Us. About everything”

You remained silent.

He took this opportunity to explain himself. When else was he going to have the chance to do so?

Your sister’s words replaying in his head.

“I know there are no sorries in this world can truly express how terrible I feel about what happened and what I did. I’m sorry it took me getting to the hotel to realize your absence. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. Sorry that I didn’t try hard enough to find you. How I’ve let you in an unknown place by yourself. Because of what I did I missed out on what was the biggest day of your life. I would have loved to have been there on your graduation day, cheering for you from the stands because I am so unbelievably proud of you. All of your hard work, blood, sweat and tears paid off. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. I would do so in a heartbeat, because that shouldn’t have happened” he sobs.

Tears pool in your eyes as well. This was a long time coming. As much as you hated the idea, it needed to be done, for both your sakes.

“I can never blame you. That, this, is your career. This is what you’re meant to do in this life. This is your calling. Who am I to ever take that away from you? You worked so tirelessly and so hard to get to where you are now. You are so passionate in everything that you do, and that movie was no different. It definitely showed, it was a really good movie. Look, it’s in the past now, I’ve moved on. I’ve accepted it, and I’m okay.. And I think you should stop beating yourself up for what happened and carry on. Don’t be too hard on yourself” you spoke, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can’t. I just can’t” he whimpered.

Silence.

“So Y/S/N told me you’re having a baby girl. Congratulations. You are going to be such an incredible mom, I’ve seen you with kids, you are such a natural... Did you find a name for her yet?”

“Uh, thank you, yes I did. Her name is Arielle Rose”

“That such a lovely name, darling”

Darling. His favorite term of endearment for you.

“Uh, I’m sorry. It just slipped” he says, trying to save himself from the uncomfortableness.

Oh how you’ve missed that name.

“uhm, thanks”

Great, now things are awkward again. Ugh.

“So, is your boyfriend on his way?”

“What boyfriend?”

“The baby’s father, is he on his way?”

“No. He doesn’t exist”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know”

“It’s fine. Yeah no, he will not be a part of her life. I know she’ll probably ask when she is older, but we will cross that mountain when the time comes”

“I know it’s none of my business, but did something happen?”

“Just as you said, it is none of your business; but we just didn’t work out, that’s all”

Y/N, tell him the truth. He deserves to know. He has the right to know, he is the father. Even though things fell apart between you both, you need to not be selfish and not rob her of her father and his amazing family.

“I’m sorry”

“Yeah”

Just as you were about to speak, a knock caught both your attentions.

The OB doctor as well as your nurse came in. They told you that you were going to be admitted for the night for observation. They asked if you needed anything else from them before they left, shaking your head and reminded you for like the hundredth time that night that if you needed anything to press the red button in the remote and a staff would be in to assist you.

You thanked them as they proceeded out the door.

“So how far along are you?”

“6 months” “Did you have your gender reveal or baby shower yet?”

“My sister and I are actually planning my gender reveal. My parents don’t know. We are supposed to have it in about 2 weeks”

“Oh that sounds great, how are you revealing?”

“With pink balloons inside of a huge white box, after the countdown, we will untie the strings and the top of the box will open, revealing and releasing the balloons. The color theme is pink, blue and white, we are planning to have different things and foods that are pink and blue to see which one each guest thinks I am having and games where people can guess what I’m having”

“That sounds like so much fun”

“Yeah, it does. I can’t wait. In a way, I just want it to be over, this was beyond stressful trying to plan. I think I need to make a mental note of this for her first birthday party” you let out a small laugh.

He locks eyes with you and smiles.

He saw how tired you looked, and opted to pause the conversation, you needed to rest. Pleased with how your conversation went. He still had some questions, but decided that he will defer them to a later time.

He shut the light off and told you to take it easy. He told you that he would stay with you until your family came back. He greeted you goodnight and tucked you in.

You thanked him once again and began to drift off.

You woke up in the middle of the night and saw him asleep beside you. He rested his head at the foot of your bed. You were surprised to see him, you thought he would be long gone, assuming that your sister or your mom was going to spend the night with you.

The exhaustion clearly taking its full effect on your body, your eyes barely staying open, even in just that mere moment. You pulled your blanket up to your neck as you rested your head back on your pillow, welcoming your slumber again.

G’night, Tom.

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series taglist: @hollandroos @roses-hxlland @parkeret @sleepybesson @moonlightom @blueeyedbesson @unholyholland @lemondropirwin @delicately-important-trash @let-me-luve-you @your-daily-dose-of-fangirl @smexylemony @allieandcoffee @captainbuckyy @notevenenglish @infamousmany @geeksareunique @bellagrayson-wayne @a-dorky-book-keeper @crazypsychobookworm @lilya-petrichor @gemflowerrr @judemoos @chillinjules @littlebookbengal @marvelhoelland @its-the-unknownspidey @emeraldrhee-grimes @stephy-senpai @marvelismylifffe @tiya14 @andreuskystuff @soy-una-conejo @danicarosaline @youngjellyfishpolice @ellascarlettangel @wonders-of-the-multiverse @trumpettay @aestheticgaybish @ghostlytree612 @asmilinghopelessromantic @raspberrydreamclouds @seasidecrowbar @anini71 @kaylinfayezink @trashsiara @ionknowrlly @southsidespidey @julsgrc @jackiehollanderr @hollandshearteyes @imagine-addictt @madeinthemidnightmemories @iwokeupinabadmood @bobo-bush @h-oneyholland @vthenerd @justkeepdreaminganddreaming @lala-florez @mutuallynotmutual @karlitabi-rrito @crashhmycar @a-dorky-book-keeper @hollandinq @southsidespidey @kill-the-stereo @wronglanemendes @quackson606 @lovexo26 @wowiedraco @kaylathekittykat225 @popluckbih @littleraton @cannotpsd @unholyholland @ashwarren32 @parkerindustrys @euphorichxlland

#tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland one shot #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #herseries

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

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a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

Nerves tumble through him, all delighted energy racing in his veins in place of blood. His robes are new, a surprise from Wen Qing, Granny, and two of the aunties. Ink-dark clouds bloom over rich blue silk the color of the first bruising brush of night, a deep red robe rustling underneath. Running his fingertips down along the neat folds, he bites back a shaking smile. He’s going to meet his nephew. He’s going to see shijie and Jiang Cheng and he’s finally going to meet his first baby nephew. If excitement were an animal, his would be a hundred gilded canaries flocking and whirling behind his ribs. He’s inundated, suffused. Joy is such a vibrant rush that it blots out all else. Under the sun-white glow of it, he can think of little else but the excitement of the day. There is no room for his worries: whether the sects will ever let the Wens go in peace to a new home; how Uncle Four and Granny are going to get through the worst days of winter; what it means that the back of his hip keeps going funny lately, like the threads holding it in place are slowly unraveling. Sliding a small wooden box into his robes over his heart, he steps outside. Wen Qing’s waiting, clearly pretending she’s not by studying the lotus pond like it holds some secret message. By her side, Wen Ning holds a-Yuan on his lap, listening seriously as the boy chatters and waves one of his spinning toys through the air. Wen Qing straightens first. “How do I look?” Wei Wuxian asks with a grin.

Pursing her lips, Wen Qing studies him with a sharp eye and her hands on her hips. “Like a nuisance,” she says and reaches over to tug a strand of hair into place. “Hey!” Wei Wuxian yelps, only a little faked. Wen Qing pulls back to fold her hands at her waist. Her expression goes a little soft, the way it sometimes does when she looks over all of them gathered for dinner in the firelight. Wen Ning has stood and come to stand at her shoulder now, and he manages a tremulous smile. He’s worked hard over this year, to get back his emotions. He can’t blush or cry anymore, but he’s gotten the hang of inflection again, and he can pull up these little smiles. In another year or two, perhaps, he’ll be able to grin and laugh once more. “Behave for your sister,” Wen Qing says and holds out a small pouch of silver, “and pick out something nice for your nephew.” He can’t help the way his smile goes soft and a little sappy. Wen Qing looks skyward as if for patience, but before either can say more, there’s an insistent tug on his skirts. “Xian-gege,” a-Yuan says, frowning like a Yunmeng thunderstorm, “why do you have to go to the baby?” His voice is so petulant, so full of little kid frustration with the wide world. Wei Wuxian fights back a laugh. “Ah, a-Yuan, don’t you want to meet my shijie’s baby?” he asks. “He can be your little cousin a-Ling.” “Don’t want a little cousin,” a-Yuan pouts. “Xian-gege promised older brothers and sisters.” He pauses and tilts his head to look up at Wei Wuxian sideways through his lashes, rubbing his nose with one finger. It is a preposterous expression on a four-year-old face, and Wei Wuxian has to bite his lips to keep in his laughter. “Maybe we can sell him with the radishes?” His voice is so hopeful, the question so absurd — Wei Wuxian lets his laughter peal out of him and swoops down to scoop him up in his arms. His back twinges, briefly, but he ignores it. A-Yuan’s eyes brighten as if he thinks he’s getting his way. “A-Yuan, so cruel!” he scolds, delighted. “How could we sell my very first nephew?” “We could trade him,” a-Yuan suggests solemnly, “and plant a big brother instead.” It’s too cute; too much happiness is flooding him all at once, and Wei Wuxian squeezes him close even as he pinches his cheek. “Ai, truly the son of the dread Yiling laozu,” he teases before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And so cute!” Shaking her head, Wen Qing tries to stifle a smile, but it’s still there in the corners of her mouth as she reaches out and plucks a-Yuan from his arms. He looks briefly disappointed, but he laughs in surprise when Wei Wuxian chucks his chin gently and ruffles his hair. “Go on,” Wen Qing says, nodding toward the path down the mountain. “You don’t want to be late.” Grinning, Wei Wuxian waves an idle goodbye as he starts down the trail with Wen Ning at his side. Granny and Auntie Three tell him to take care when they pass, and Uncle Six wishes them safe travels as he returns from gathering water. Wei Wuxian could nearly skip all the way to Lanling with the way joy bubbles effervescent in his veins, but he settles for spinning Chenqing between his fingers and humming along to a song he half-remembers from childhood. They’ve left with enough time to fly to and from Lanling twice with rest on either end, but then, Wei Wuxian’s not flying anywhere. Suibian sits propped on a shelf in his cave, where it’s lain since they arrived. He cleans the blade as he has to, out of respect to the spirit that still thrums through it and to the bond he once shared with the sword, but otherwise, he pretends he cannot see it lying there. He doesn’t regret it. There is no world in which he could ever wish he’d made another choice, but—

He’d told Wen Qing he understood the consequences. That he knew the risks and the weight of giving up his golden core. He would forever be mediocre, destined to live out a shorter life and to never fulfill the great dreams he’d had in his adolescence. Such broad declarations could not fathom the painful prick of everyday loss. He no longer reaches for spiritual energy that isn’t there, but sometimes he dreams, and he still knows that familiar river-rush song of power at his center. It still feels right, still feels like the song his soul has known since he was twelve and he felt a seed of something strong and glowing deep within him. He wakes bereft, empty-handed, hollowed. It’s not even the dreams he misses most — those grand heroics were always stories, and his home has been in Lotus Pier alongside his duty for most of his remembered life. It’s the little things, the things he had taken for granted: being able to help when someone was ill or injured, being able to soar up on Suibian and see the tumbling world splayed out before him. He will never regret his choice. If anything, he’s been proven right over and over in how Jiang Cheng has led Yunmeng Jiang through the war and into this new reconstruction. Lotus Pier needed its leader, and Jiang Cheng has always been destined for that mantle. So, no, he will never regret his decision. But, sometimes, he grieves. It’s a selfish sorrow, to lie with his hand flat on his chest in the night-quiet and feel the resounding hollowness echo through him. There’s still spiritual energy lingering in him, enough to power a talisman or a weak spell, but it diminishes day by day, eaten away by the resentment hooking claws into his bones. Guilt does its best to drown the grief. He has no right to feel sorrow for a sacrifice willingly made. If he does not regret the decision, what reason is there for hurt? He should just be able to set it aside and move forward, onward. He tries. It works most days. They stop in Yiling to pick up a token with the money Wen Qing sent, and Wei Wuxian eyes the whole supply, running his fingers along the jade, weighing the heft of them in his palm. It’s only adornment, a small trinket to accompany his real gift, but he wants it to be perfect, too. Outside, Wen Ning waits patiently. He’s dressed in his best as well, neat black robes that don’t mark him as any sect but are carefully pleated and tied. Wei Wuxian grins and holds out the tassel for examination. “What do you think?” he asks. “It is very pretty, Master Wei,” Wen Ning affirms. “Is this your gift for young Jin Rulan?” Wei Wuxian scoffs and reaches into the folds of his robe to pull out the lacquered box. As if he would give his nephew something so small as a tassel and say that was sufficient. He passes the box to Wen Ning, who cradles it in his hands like a bird’s egg. Wei Wuxian waits, trying carefully not to preen, as he lifts the lid to examine the gift. “It’s warded,” he blurts out anyway, because he’s never been very good at bottling up excitement. “Low level ghosts and monsters won’t be able to come near him as long as my nephew wears it.” “I can feel it,” Wen Ning says, his hand hovering carefully away from the beads. The bracelet has taken hours of work and planning, the kind of mental challenge that is at once exhilarating and exhausting; he loves the strain of it, the puzzle in how to determine the right characters and imbue it with the proper strength, but it also required more planning and detail work than comes naturally. He can’t count the number of times he checked and re-checked his work to make sure he didn’t miss something tiny and vital. Wen Ning moves to touch the bracelet, and panic flashes through Wei Wuxian as he half-lunges to stop him. “Ah don’t touch it!” he yelps. He manages to reign himself back in as Wen Ning stops short and turns to him with something like alarm. “I’m not sure what it’ll do.” He tries not to wince as he says it; he hadn’t wanted to point it out at all. Despite his placid face, Wen Ning’s shoulders stoop a little, and Wei Wuxian’s heart squeezes painfully. He shouldn’t have to worry about this, shouldn’t have to think about how he’s been made into a monster. It’s not his fault, not something he had any say in, and guilt sours deep in Wei Wuxian’s belly at the way that he still has to carry the burden even when it was forced upon him in the first place. “Come on,” Wei Wuxian says, clapping Wen Ning on the shoulder once the box is stowed once more. He gives a smile of reassurance, apology, and Wen Ning quirks up his lips in his own smile. “Of course, Wei-gongzi,” he says. It’s a long walk to Koi Tower. Wei Wuxian almost wishes they had chosen to split up the trip between two days, but it’s not like they would have been able to afford an inn and a bath if they had. He spends the walk teasing Wen Ning and chattering. Wen Ning’s still a little demure, but he’s gotten better at teasing and understanding when Wei Wuxian is joking over the year. It’s nice in a way few things are anymore; Wen Ning knows, like Wen Qing, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to pretend around him. He cradled Wei Wuxian’s head as his sister pulled out the thrumming golden core at his heart, kept his shoulders pinned to the ground as he screamed. He understands in a way shijie or Jiang Cheng or Lan Zhan never can. They have done terrible violence to each other for the sake of their siblings, and they can laugh and talk and tease in the sunlight. It’s the kind of light that falls through cracks in ancient ruins, that illuminates and softens the ragged edges of history. They plan to pause and rest on the far side of Qiongqi Pass, Wen Ning’s enforcement of his sister’s order. “It would make Lady Jiang upset if you overexerted yourself before the celebrations,” Wen Ning says. That is certainly not how Wen Qing phrased it. Wei Wuxian accepts it with only a little complaining, to keep up appearances. It can’t get out that he can be persuaded so easily after all; his reputation would never survive.

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #untamed fic #wei wuxian #wen ning #wen qing #my writing #and the sads being

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chelsfic · 4 years

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Chapter 11 - Inherited - Dracula/OFC - Dracula 2020 fanfic

A/N: Hi guys. Thanks again to everyone who has commented and liked and reblogged and interacted with this fic and with me! It means the world. Here is the promised smutty reunion! I think that Chapter 12 is probably going to wrap this up as the final part. I’m sure there are some who would prefer that the story keep going and going and going, but I’ve always intended to finish this with the Count turning Emilie. So depending on how it paces out I’ll have one more chapter to post after this one and *possibly* an epilogue, but we’ll see. I have at least two other plot bunnies scampering around my head right now just begging to be written.

Summary: The Count’s visit with Emilie turns fluffy and then distinctly raunchy!

Rating: Explicit!!!

Count Dracula, in his flowing dark cape and richly tailored suit, looked positively exotic sitting in the worn chintz armchair surrounded by the Andrews family’s aggressively feminine decor. The parlor was a charming mix of floral patterns, old lace, china knick knacks and displays of the girls’ various attempts at pastoral landscape watercolors. Dracula, with his long, lithe form and aura of dark monstrosity, tucked into the little chair and looking about himself with an expression of polite curiosity was enough to break through the miasma of Emilie’s sadness. She giggled in delight at the picture he made.

Dracula raised his eyebrows at her laughter and smiled softly. It was strange to see him here in her family home. But it felt so pleasant and natural to see him looking at her with that crooked smile on his face.

“Shall I make tea?” Emilie asked automatically, shifting into hostess mode in the absence of her mother and sister who were both already asleep upstairs.

Dracula huffed a laugh as he replied, “If you like.”

Emilie felt her cheeks flame in embarrassment almost as soon as the words had left her mouth.

She stammered an excuse, “Oh--I...sorry, force of habit. I think I will make some for myself if that’s not terribly rude?”

Dracula waved a hand dismissively and Emilie vanished into the kitchen where she could privately melt at her own stupidity while she waited for the water to boil.

When she reentered the parlor she found Dracula standing with his hands folded behind his back, inspecting a brightly hued watercolor hanging over the mantle. She set down the tea service tray and went to stand beside him.

“My sister, Anna, painted this one,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the brilliant splashes of red, orange and violet. The painting showed a line of birch trees on the horizon, a little village nestled safely in the foreground as the sun rose into a crisp, blue sky.

“It’s wonderful,” Dracula whispered in a tone of sincere awe. Emilie looked up at him, his lips parted and his eyes moving over the image as if to memorize every detail. She felt her heart clench at the look of boyish longing on his face.

“You miss it?” she asked hesitantly. “The sun?”

She was unsure of how familiar she was allowed to be with him now. Was he here as her friend? Her lover? Her employer...her landlord? She pushed her insecurities away, unwilling to lose this moment of connection with him after she’d so longed to see him again.

Dracula tore his eyes away from the canvas and looked down at her, a sad smile crinkling his eyes, “Yes, very much so. Appreciate her, Emilie, while you have her.”

They moved away from the mantle and took their seats. Emilie pondered his words as she poured herself a cup of tea. She supposed he referred to her mortality, the limited number of days she would spend under the sun. After his anger, his rejection, she couldn’t assume he meant anything else. Even if she’d come to think...to hope...he meant to take her as his dark wife. That was all over now.

She sat back in her seat and cradled the cup of tea in her scarred hands, taking comfort in its warmth, “She is radiant and lovely. And I’ve seen her in a new way since...well, since you showed me how. But...you know, I did come to love the night. For a while…”

She held her breath and felt her heart beat in her throat as she watched his face for a reaction to her words. Dracula’s expression was a mask of stoicism but his eyes burned as he leaned forward and reached toward her, cupping his hands around hers over the tea cup. His gaze fixed on the red, cracked skin of her fingers and he let out a sympathetic hiss.

“My Emilie. Your poor hands. What have you done to yourself?”

Emilie stared down at their joined hands for a moment, transfixed, before answering in a firm tone, “Only what I had to do. For my family.”

Dracula came fully forward, kneeling before her to stay at eye-level. He clasped his hands around her too-thin waist and looked up at her in silence for a moment. Emilie could feel his emotions through their bond. She felt his fear, his shame, his anger...and love. She still felt the bright jewel of his love shining out at her and it felt better than the warmth of the sun ever had.

“Emilie,” he murmured, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, “I have not forsaken you. Or your family. I won’t let you starve or turn you out of this house. Do you understand? You don’t need to work yourself into ill health. Please...don’t.”

Emilie choked back a sob at his words. She felt relief, gratitude, adoration...but also the echoing pain of betrayal and rejection. Only a few weeks ago Vlad had turned his monstrous cruelty against her. He’d hurt her and insulted her because she had the audacity to make him feel vulnerable. And now here he knelt before her like a supplicant, avowing his devotion and loyalty? She’d dreamed of this, but the actual event felt like being suddenly knocked about. She couldn’t keep hold of her emotions.

“What was I supposed to do, Vlad? How was I to know if you would continue to support us after...after…”

She couldn’t speak the words to evoke the final scene between them at Carfax. It was too painful a memory.

“I’m sorry, Emilie,” Dracula whispered. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over her cheeks, laying chaste kisses across her face, each one a plea for her forgiveness. “I was afraid, Emilie. I’ve never...I wanted to make you my bride. You knew that, didn’t you? I wanted to make you like me and I’d never come so close to succeeding before. I was afraid...I am afraid that I’ll fail. I never planned to get so attached...for there was always the risk that you might not come back...in the end. And when I felt that you had finally staked a true claim on me--on my heart and soul--I panicked and I was...unforgivably cruel to you. I--I love you, Emilie. I’d forgotten that I was capable of the emotion…”

Emilie set down the teacup and took his face in her hands, leaning forward to press her lips to his and letting her tears finally fall to stain his cheeks as well as hers. She was passionate and energetic, finally allowing herself to let go of the hurt and mourning she’d been carrying these past few weeks. She nipped his lower lip and delighted in his deep, rumbling purr of pleasure. Her fingers twined in the hair at the nape of his neck. Every detail was vivid and arousing with her heightened senses: the feel of his soft lips gradually warming from the heat of her own, the restrained strength in his hands wrapped around her waist and pulling her closer, each silken thread of hair brushing through her fingers. She broke away from him, panting and clinging to the collar of his cape with all her might.

Dracula let out an intentional breath and stared up at her, capturing her with the deep pools of his liquid eyes with ease, “Emilie, I want you to understand what this means. You’ve belonged to me since before you even realized it. I own you: your soul, your blood, your life. But...you own me, too. I’m yours, Emilie. Now and always.”

Emilie breathed heavily, overwhelmed by lust and emotion. Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she responded, “In that case...I think I’ll take you to my bed, Count Dracula.”

They crept soundlessly up the stairway and down the short hall to Emilie’s bedroom. She led him by the hand over the threshold and shut the door delicately behind him. Count Dracula, her dark lover, her master, her slave, was standing in her childhood bedroom. The contrast of his presence in this sacred space was deeply compelling to her. She stalked forward, standing before him and reaching up to unclasp the cape from his shoulders. In a stroke of playfulness she wrapped it around her own shoulders and smirked up at him.

“You know...this is where my sister and I would whisper stories to each other at night. About the terrifying Count Dracula and his dark powers.”

He reached up and began unfastening the buttons of his shirt, gradually revealing his dark chest hair and starkly pale skin.

“Is that so?” he asked in a tone of bland curiosity.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, dropping the cape to the floor and reaching around her back to loosen the fastenings of her dress and slowly let the material drop over her shoulders. “I’d have nightmares about the evil creature I would one day serve. His devil horns, his cloven feet….his power to transform into a wolf at will!”

Emilie’s soft laughter was interrupted by a sheepish look from the Count, “Well...yes that last one is true, I’m afraid.”

Emilie’s mouth dropped open in shock, “You can turn into a wolf!?”

Dracula suppressed a smug smile as he discarded his shirt and undid the buttons of his fly, “Does that frighten you, Emilie? Or excite you?”

He stepped out of his trousers and moved forward with inhuman speed, grabbing the waist of her petticoat and slipping it over her hips so she stood naked and exposed before him.

“I don’t know...maybe both,” she whispered, leaning forward so the points of her nipples brushed against the taught skin of his stomach. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him to her, reveling in the perfect feel of his naked skin against hers.

“My big, bad wolf,” she grinned and pulled him toward the bed.

She fell backward and tugged him down with her onto the tiny mattress. He had to curl his legs up in order to fit but he was happy to wrap himself around her little body. He enveloped her in his arms and ran his hands down her back and over the rounded flesh of her buttocks, squeezing gently and eliciting a squeak of surprised pleasure from Emilie.

“Shhh, little one,” he admonished bringing a finger to her lips and then pressing it forward, dipping his long digit into her mouth and watching with hooded, lusty eyes as she sucked obediently. “Do you need me to keep you quiet?”

Emilie’s eyes fluttered shut at the suggestion, envisioning her master taking her on her childhood bed as he gagged her with his own fingers. She felt herself nodding in response to the question, still sucking his finger and laving it with her tongue.

Dracula smirked and added another finger, pressing down on her tongue and watching as saliva pooled and spilled over her lips. He ran his other hand over her breasts, playing with her nipples and teasing them with his sharp nails.

“Good girl,” he praised her as she stayed perfectly silent, muffling her little sounds of pleasure by wrapping her lips around his digits. “I’ll always take care of you, sweet Emilie.”

He continued his attentions to her breasts, flicking, licking, biting and teasing until Emilie was near tears at the over stimulation. She struggled to form words around his fingers and he finally relented, pulling them out and looking down at her with brows furrowed inquisitively, “What is it?”

She took a deep breath and nearly sobbed her words, “Please, Vlad, I need you now.”

Dracula’s lips spread in a leering grin and he crawled over her, caging her with his body, “I’m yours to command, sweet Emilie. Always.”

He palmed her hips and lowered himself until he was just waiting at her entrance, teasing her by running the thick tip of his member through her soaking folds over and over again. He looked up at her, expectantly.

“Vlad!” she admonished him, unable to form much more in the way of coherent words. He took pity on her and plunged forward, thrusting himself inside her and hissing at the beautiful, tight, hot feel of her wrapped around him.

Emilie cried in joy and relief as he finally entered her. The sound was jarring in the silent house and Vlad whipped a hand up to her mouth, pressing his palm over her lips to keep her quiet as he pounded inside of her. He ramped up to an inhuman tempo that Emilie was powerless to match. She could only arch upward in needy wantonness, seeking to maximize the friction and deepen his reach inside her. If he’d planned this at all he would have taken her slowly, tenderly, injecting his devotion and apology into every movement of his hips, his hands, his mouth. But he was just as powerless as Emilie in the face of his reaction to her. His blood sang at their closeness as if it flowed in sync with hers. He could read her feelings in the touch of her skin. Her love, her passion, her wanting. It was everything that he felt and more.

He surrendered himself over to her, pushing his intent through their connection and dipping down to bury his head in the crook of her neck, laying sweet kisses over her jugular. He wouldn’t bite her. The next time he gave her his vampire’s kiss it would be her last. The joy and terror of his decision coursed through him as he felt his hips stutter chaotically as his orgasm washed over him. Emilie threw her head back and bit into his fingers as the sensation of his pleasure reached her through their bond and pushed her over into her own climax. Her legs shivered and trembled around his hips as they both relaxed their bodies and clung together.

***

The next morning Mrs. Andrews entered the dining room to find two sealed letters sitting on the table. One was from Emilie and it was a goodbye. The words were simple but heartfelt. The Count had proposed marriage and she had accepted. They would be away for some time...honeymooning.

The second letter was written in the Count’s own severe hand. It explained that his solicitor, Mr. Renfield, would be in touch to discuss the transfer of ownership of Carfax Abbey, along with a substantial sum, to Mrs. Andrews.

A/N: P.S. The “I own you and you own me” thing--I’ve used that little idea in fics before and it’s entirely owed to the sexy negotiation between Claire and Jamie in Outlander when they finally reconcile after he physically punishes her for putting the clansmen in danger.

Tags:

@girlonfireice @charlesdances @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @dracula-s-bride @haleyea @irrelevantwriter @felicityofbakerstreet @festering-queen @kaddis-world @leah-halliwell92

#dracula x ofc #dracula x oc #dracula imagine #claes bang imagine #dracula thirst squad #count dracula x oc #count dracula x ofc #dracula fanfic #bbc dracula #dracula netflix #dracula 2020 #chelsfic

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1145

What were your favorite things to draw when you were a lil kid? I knew I wasn’t an artist the moment I started experimenting with pens and markers, and the only image I liked to keep - and was capable of - drawing on repeat was your usual kid’s portrait of a house with a sun and clouds lmao. I never learned how to draw anything else.

Do you think there is something with or around you, like a spirit, angel, ghost or something else? How does this make you feel? No, never.

Imagine you’re a stranger looking at yourself. What things would immediately catch your eye? Probably the way I’m scowling at stranger-me staring at me-me.

When did you feel the most confident in your life? Not sure when I’ve felt the most confident, but I typically feel so whenever I get something I’ve been desiring and working hard for, like getting a job offer or being accepted to my dream college or passing a really difficult exam.

Do you think love is needed to have good sex? For some people, no. For me, loving one another is an absolute must. < Yes, hits the nail on the head for me.

Do you think, or want to, die in the city you currently live in? I don’t think it would matter where I die, as long as it’s not from a terrible freak accident.

What is the strangest thing you have ever encountered? That time I went to Singapore and a sex toy shop was casually blatantly standing in the middle of Orchard Road for families to stroll pass. It’s not objectively strange, of course, but it was definitely a big culture shock. Putting up sex shops in the Philippines is basically a game of who can find the best spot to hide them in.

Favourite soft drink? I never drink soda, so I don’t have a favorite.

What do you like to put gravy on? Fried chicken or steak.

Have you ever gone canoeing/kayaking? Yes, in Palawan.

What is one thing you know about your family history you’re proud of? I come from a line of datus from both precolonial and colonial Philippines. The most exciting part about it is that it technically makes me a princess, or at least our local version of princesses haha. I’m also distantly related to one of the three women who sewed the first Philippine flag.

Who depends on you the most? Kimi and Cooper, surely.

Are you related to anyone famous or historical, if so who? See two questions above. Coming from my datu ancestors, my relatives also continue to serve in the local government of our family’s province until today. Not that I’m particularly proud of them or show this off whenever I want because they are all very vocal Duterte supporters and regularly engage with him and his family, so *barf*

Would you ever donate a kidney to anyone, and who? If it ever comes down to it, I’d offer one of mine to my dad, Angela, and either of her parents.

What is the main quality you think makes a great parent? They recognize when they’re wrong and know to acknowledge it and apologize.

What three things do you think of most of each day? Tasks I have to do for work for the day, tasks I have to do for the rest of the week, and financial concerns.

Does/did your high school have pop machines? No, of course not. Are there schools that are ok with selling soda? :/

Do you know anyone who’s won the lottery? Not that I know of, but then again these things are shared in secret so there’s always that chance of possibly knowing someone who won the lotto at some point.

Have you ever slept in a water bed? Never slept but I’ve played on one.

How often do you use Flickr? I haven’t visited that site since I was like 11. Not even sure it still exists.

Who is the last child that you took a photo with? I think my cousin Toffe, but it was most likely a family photo that the two of us happened to be in. I don’t have a lot of photos with my younger cousins and kids in general.

How often do you wear hats? Never. I always think about getting a bucket hat of my own but I just never go through with it.

Would you ever get a nature tattoo? I never even entertained the thought before. But considering Hayley’s albums and songs have like a million references to flowers, it sounds like a good idea now :)

Is anyone in your family sick at the moment? My paternal great-grandma was recently confined in a hospital but she’s been discharged. I have a grand-aunt who suffered a mild stroke a couple of weeks ago and is currently recovering.

Where do your siblings work, if anywhere? They are both still studying. If I had to guess, my sister would probably end up in the film, media, or advertising industry, if not a freelance artist.

Where is your favorite place to buy groceries? If I had the money for it I’d get my groceries at Marketplace, but I’m content with getting ours from SM or Robinsons for now.

Who do you generally talk to the most? Probably my immediate family and my team at work.

Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname? Not anymore. I use nicknames on my friends more frequently on Facebook Messenger.

Whose birthday is coming up? One of my cousins’ birthday is on March 31.

Have you ever ordered from an informercial? No, never.

When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin? Around a month ago when I was embroidering. I usually accidentally prick myself from time to time.

Have you been to an escape room? Was it a success? Nah, not really my idea of fun. I’m a little weak at problem/riddle-solving :(

How many followers do you have on Instagram? I literally never use my Instagram except to lurk and look for influencers to potentially tap for work. The account was initially my one-photo-a-day-in-2020 dump, but I stopped in April last year and now we’re in 2021 it doesn’t even serve a purpose anymore lmao. But for some reason Bea asked for my account and still followed me (and is the only person following me), which I’m sure she already regrets.

What’s the most recent music video you watched? Thoughts? Continued the next day. Jessi’s What Type of X. Killed it as always.

Have you ever recorded a cover of a song? Never.

What makeup products are your go-tos? None.

Are you going to school this year? No, not anymore. I did that for the very last time in 2020, and I don’t see the point in going back for an MA because I feel like I’m already covered.

What is your favorite water activity? I’ve only ever tried kayaking, but that was a very pleasant memory.

What are your favorite video games? I’m not a super passionate video game fan who’s always up-to-date, but I do have a soft spot for games I bonded on with my family when I was a kid, like Grand Theft Auto (very inappropriate for a kid to be playing, I know lol), Silent Hill, Resident Evil, Mario Kart, and Smash Bros.

Do you like jello? I never got over the texture, so no.

When was the last time you gave someone "the finger?" Not sure when exactly but it happened recently, maybe a week or two ago. I suddenly thought about my ex and flung both fingers around just for myself lol.

Have you ever held a snake? Yes, I got the chance to hold and take a photo with one on my trip to Bali. I was the only willing one in the family.

Most unique place you’ve ever been to? Baker’s Hill in Palawan is what I would imagine seeing if I ever took drugs and had a trip of some sort. Most random place ever.

If you were a superhero, what color would your cape be? Continued from...I don’t even know anymore. Just know it’s been nearly a week since I first started this, lmao. Idk maybe gold.

Have you ever slept out on your porch all night? We don’t have a porch. We do have a rooftop and I’ve fallen asleep there a couple of times. I only do so when the climate is cold, though.

Do you like horror movies? Sure, but I haven’t watched any in years. Just have never been in the mood for it for a long while now.

What’s your favorite Coke product? Blech, I hate soda.

Watergun or water-balloon war? Water gun. I’ve never been hit by a water balloon but I imagine it hurts?? so I wouldn’t want to experience it if I never had to.

Do you know anyone that’s afraid of elevators? I know my sister and grandma are claustrophobic but they’re not ~deathly~ afraid of elevators.

Is there anything in your room that belongs to a boyfriend, or a friend of the opposite sex? I don’t think any of my guy friends have lent me stuff that I got to take home, so no.

Who’s your favorite Beatle? I was never a fan. I remember pretending to be, back when liking The Beatles made you look all cool and hippy and trendy... but I honest to god just couldn’t get into their music.

Have you ever texted an ex whilst drunk? How’d that go? Yeah just once, super super way back when I was still thought remaining friends with her was the way to go. It was fine, I didn’t message anything horrific and we were both chill about it the next morning.

Do you have to stand on your tip-toes to kiss your boyfriend? I don’t have a partner anymore but yeah, I used to. I think? Maybe? I barely remember anymore. I definitely did have to tilt my head up quite a bit, though.

Have you ever been tackle-hugged? I can’t remember if I’ve received one. I’m usually the one who gives them.

Have you ever rejected someone’s kiss before? I don’t think I’ve been in this situation before.

Is your mood or the overall tone of your day often affected by the dreams you had the night before? Just for like the first half hour of waking up, especially if it was a nightmare or a triggering dream. The more I wake up the more the dream fades away, and the sillier it feels that I was affected by it.

Do you think that there are any positive aspects or outcomes of suffering from a mental illness? If you have a mental illness, do you think it has changed you for the better in any way? No. Sugarcoating mental illness doesn’t sit well with me at all. I know I’ve learned to be gentle and understanding towards other people because of the emotional abuse I’ve received in my own relationships, and I absolutely hate that it’s because of mental illness. I shouldn’t have had to learn to be kind because I was treated shittily first.

What is your opinion on celebrity culture and celebrity worship? Have you ever been guilty of putting a celebrity on a pedestal? Do you think it’s somehow more acceptable/understandable to obsess over certain types of celebrities (musicians over YouTubers, say) than others? At what point do you think an obsession like that crosses the line? I sometimes think it’s silly when fandoms fight and defend their favorites as if they know them personally, but I’m heavily into my fair share of celebrities and I honestly don’t see anything wrong with it. As long as you’re not hurting anyone or doing anything stupid like stalking your favorites, you do you.

If you were to pursue a career in photography and had the opportunity and means to photograph whatever you wanted, what would most like to photograph? People.

Is there a certain type of clothing (outerwear, activewear, loungewear, etc.) that you enjoy shopping for more than others? Cute tops.

Are you ever afraid to post your ideas, artwork, photography, etc. online for fear that they will get stolen or not credited? No, because I am not even creative in the first place and can’t make any form of art to save my life.

When is the last time you did something sexual? Last night.

Who is the last person you showered with, if anyone? My ex but that would’ve been ages ago. It was super rare that we absolutely had to shower together.

What do you think when you see roadkill on the side of the road? Sad and kinda disgusted if the guts are out, but also relieved that they don’t have to suffer in pain anymore.

Have you ever had an ex that just didn’t understand that it was over? Yeah, me. Luckily I came to my senses a few months ago and have felt better and been better ever since.

Are your fingernails currently short or long? They’re unequal lengths because I’ve been either biting or picking at them over the last few weeks, but for the most part they are long enough to need to be clipped.

Would you rather have big or small dogs? Big.

What is your favorite sports drink? I don’t drink any of them, so none.

What was the last compliment you gave a guy? I told my dad the dinner he made tasted excellent.

Does your jaw ever crack, pop, or lock? I don’t think my jaw has ever made a sound before, hahaha.

Have you ever thought of how you would give your kids “the talk”? No, but I think it’s also relevant to note that I live in a very conservative country where sexual intercourse is never discussed, especially within families; and that it’s virtually unheard of to hear of people until my generation to have been given the talk. I had to find out all by myself, and I remember being very confused when we were being taught the reproductive system in fifth grade because they only taught about the organs and their functions, and never anything deeper than that.

Luckily the last conservative generation was Gen X, and younger generations have been a lot more open-minded. And if I had to guess, I’m fairly certain Millennial parents would be more willing to give their kids the talk.

Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something? I mean, my 20s, thanks to Covid.

Do you ever write/draw on windows that are fogged up? Yes.

If you were married, and your spouse’s parents became ill, would you let them move into your home? Of course.

Have you screamed in a pillow before? Probably.

What do you like more, acoustic or electric? Electric.

Did you actually have a cookie jar? No.

What’s worse, having someone mad or disappointed in you? Disappointment is more gut-wrenching. I feel more hopeless and helpless when someone feels that way about me.

What do you bite on more, your tongue, lip, or nails? Definitely my nails. Lip-biting isn’t a habit of mine and I only ever bite my tongue accidentally.

Do you think that knowing when and how you’re going to die would ruin your life? No. I would find that comforting, actually.

Do you have a favorite bromance? From TV or a movie. J-Man and Channy’s from Friends.

Do you find flea markets and thrift stores enjoyable? Sure.

What color is your wallet? Pink, but I def have to buy a new one soon as I’m still using the one my ex gave me...

Have you ever been somebody's photography subject? No, and I would hate to be. I don’t like being in front of the camera.

Nicki Minaj fan? I like a lot of songs by her but I’m by no means a fan.

Have you ever seen the Niagara Falls? Nope but I would love to.

#survey #surveys

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isrustandstardust · 3 years

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1. What’s been the best day of your life so far and why?

Hard to decide, I had so many great days.

2. Describe your first kiss, who was it with, what was it like, where was it etc?

It was with my best friend at the time, in my parents garden. It was early morning after a night spent talking, her lips were really soft.

3. What’s your biggest regret? I know we all say we don’t regret things but obviously it’s how we learn, from our mistakes. So what’s something from your past you wished you could have changed?

I could have handled a break up better. I ended up hurting someone I cared for.

4. When was the last time you laughed so hard that tears fell from your face and what was it at?

With my husband, yesterday night. We were actually making fun of someone we know.

5. What is the craziest thing that you have ever done?

Moving in with a guy I barely knew in a city 400km away from all my family and friends.

6. What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?

Nothing comes to mind rn.

7. Do you have any scars and if so, how did you get them?

I have my arms covered in scars. All of them are from self harming.

8. Where would you like to be in 10 years?

In another house, maybe abroad.

9. What are your views on drugs and alcohol?

I’m for the free of choice. I’ve tried drugs only a few times and not drinking atm.

10. What are your views on religion?

Brainwashing shit.

11. Have you ever thought about ending your own life? If so, why?

Yes, more than once. I tried, twice, when I was 21 and going through a lot. The second time I almost succeeded and woke up in the hospital after being unconscious and intubated for a week.

12. Write 5 facts people might not know about you.

- I am bipolar, borderline and have a schizoafective disorder.

- I dream about Satan and the end of the world on daily basis.

- When I was little I used look for little animals to bury and exhume after a while to see how decomposition works.

- I’ve been into witchcraft and rituals since I was 16.

- I write backwards like Leonardo Da Vinci.

13. What’s your zodiac sign and do you think it fits your personality?

I’m a Scorpio and it fits perfectly.

14. Pinpoint a moment you felt the most satisfied with your life.

When my storyboard teacher remembered me from my online test because it was a perfect score.

15. Discuss your first love.

We were young and trying too hard.

16. Put your ipod on shuffle and write 5 songs that pop up. Explain why each song is on there.

- Don’t mess with me - Brody Dalle. It’s from the soundtrack of a game I love.

- Distance - 4bidden. It relaxes me.

- As the rain comes down - 0K(ill)’s. Because I’m working on their new videoclip.

- 8-MQ 16.10.2001 - 0K(ill)’s. Because it’s inspired by an Italian female serial killer. The title is composed by her initials and date of death.

- Rock and Roll - Gary Glitter. It makes me want to misbehave.

17. Name somewhere you’d like to move or visit.

Iceland.

18. What’s your earliest memory?

My dad taking me to Collodi.

19. What are your views on mainstream music?

It’s heartless and all about making money.

20. What are your highs and lows of this past year?

High: starting officially my character designer career. Low: my mother in law and old dog passing away in less than a month.

21. What are your strongest beliefs?

I believe in being direct and honest. Do no harm but take no shit.

22. Who are you closest to in your family?

My dad maybe.

23. How important do you think education is?

It’s fundamental.

24. What’s one of your favorite shows?

My 600lbs life XD

25. How have you changed in the past 2 years?

I’m more secure of myself and my capabilities.

26. Name 5 people who are famous who you find attractive.

- Tom Hiddleston.

- Mads Mikkelsen.

- Hugh Dancy.

- Michael Fassbender.

- Matthew Good.

27. Name your favorite movie and what it’s about.

3 Iron, in the mood for love. Because they’re sad but huntingly beautiful.

Stoker because psycho killers turn me on.

The fountain because is eternal and heartbreaking.

28. Who is someone who fascinates you and why?

I am fascinated by fictional characters. Like Hannibal Lecter. Yeah, again psycho killers.

29. What kind of person attracts you?

Intelligent people.

30. What’s a problem that you have recently had or are currently having?

My body is giving up on me xD

31. Name something that you miss.

The lake.

32. Share 5 goals you want completed in the next 30 days.

- Doing at least 15 designs.

- Double up my workout time.

- Completing my very first song.

- Take that online course I’ve been postponing for lack of time.

- Get a hold of a camera and go shooting.

33. What’s been the highlight of your month and the lowest point?

Highlight: doing a shit ton of sales on my shop. Lowest point: I don’t recall one, it’s been a pretty good month so far.

34. What’s something that you’ve done in the past that you would never do again?

Being the side chick.

35. What is you’re biggest insecurity & why?

Not being good enough. It can be traced back to my mom being a terrible mother.

36. What were the last 3 songs you listened to and what did they mean to you?

- Natacha Atlas - GAFSA. Because it’s in the soundtrack of 3Iron.

- Morcheeba - Over and over again. I find I’d perfectly fitting.

- Portishead - Wandering star. Because it remembers me of someone from my past.

37. Do you have a toy that’s really special to you and if so what is it, how did you get it etc?

I had a plush of a rhino called Mr. Turkelton [Scrubs reference] that was so dear to me. It’s with my ex, we bought it together and he kept it. Still miss him tho.

38. Have you lost anyone close to you to death?

My mother in law. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother.

39. What is your purpose in life?

Being happy and create beautiful things.

40. When was the last time you cried and what was it over?

I do not remember, but I guess it was during my mil’s funeral.

41. If you got to spend an entire day with your favourite celebrity what would you guys do?

I would love to spend a day with the Mass Effect’s cast playing the game!

42. If you could only listen to one artist for the rest of your life, who would you choose and why?

Tool. Because I’m a masochist.

43. What are 3 traits that you like about yourself and what are three that you dislike about yourself? Personality wise.

Likes:

- Being open minded.

- Being stubborn.

- Being so will powered.

Dislikes:

- Being insecure.

- Being so unable to handle rage that I keep extremely calm until the moment I explode and get cruel and violent.

- Being unable to let go of things that enrage me.

44. Can you cook? If so what are your favorite dishes to make?

I’m pretty good at it. I love to make fresh pasta.

45. What was the last decision you regretted making?

Drinking that glass of milk, now my stomach hurts.

46. Who’s opinion of yourself do you value the most?

Mine. And then my husband’s. I don’t care of no one else’s opinion.

47. What’s the nastiest thing you’ve ever said to another human being and what drove you to say it?

I demolished a guy who was in love with me telling him exactly what I knew it would break him. I did it because he tried to act like I was his property and then got aggressive when I didn’t act accordingly.

48. What’s the nastiest thing anyone has ever said to YOU? Or something that’s hurt you above anything else and why?

Nasty things don’t get to me, I don’t listen to what people say, especially when it comes from someone I don’t care for or I despise. The things that hurt me the most was saying goodbye to someone I was not ready to let go.

49. You can ask your favourite celebrity 3 questions and she’s taken a magical truth pill so she will 100% answer honestly, what do you ask?

Maybe some technical stuff, Idk. I have no ‘favorite celebrity ‘ so...

50. What mark would you want to leave on this world after you are gone?

I don’t care about leaving a mark in a dying world tbh.

51. What makes you most angry?

Liars, incoherent people, delusional people, copycats.

52. Who do you think is a really underrated artist and what do you love about them?

There are a lot of really underrated artists out there trying their very best and being bashed by online algorithms. Support the artists you like!

53. What are the main qualities you look for when thinking about a significant other?

Intelligence, honesty and having moral values.

54. What’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for you?

The first that comes to mind is waiting at home for me to return with a hot bath ready and a bed full of rose petals. It’s a cliche,Iknow. But I was young and in love.

55. What is one of your favorite memories?

I have so many, but thinking about the past makes me feel bittersweet.

56. What do you do when you really want to impress someone?

I just act normal, if they’re impressed, good. If not, it’s ok.

57. What are your 3 favourite animals and why?

- Snakes: They’re so fascinating.

- Crows: they’re extremely intelligent.

- Sharks: natural born predators.

58. What’s the nicest present you’ve ever received?

A trip to Paris and a trip to Disneyland.

59. People always go around saying ‘oh I’m their biggest fan’, but what does being a truly big fan of someone mean to you?

Idk, I just like people. I don’t obsess over them.

I obsess over things I like, but not over some individual I don’t know.

60. Have you ever wanted to change anything about your life? If so, what?

I want more money XD

61. What is something you feel like you are really good at?

Drawing. Hopefully making music, but it’s way to early to say.

62. What is something you feel like you can get better at?

Drawing, there’s always room for improving.

63. What is something you feel like you are really bad at?

Hiding when I despise someone. And bowling.

64. If you were given $3,000,000 to put towards 3 charities/foundations ($1 mil each obvs), what would you choose and why?

Wildlife protection, animal shelters, planet’s preservation.

65. What’s one thing someone has done for you that was really small but made a huge impact?

My roommates came back from Xmas holidays one day earlier to have dinner with me because I was alone. And another brought me Xmas dinner a few days before.

66. What do you do when you can’t sleep?

I work :/

67. What’s something that’s on your bucket list?

Make a nice home studio.

68. If you could change 3 things within your government, what would they be and why?

I would actually change the opponent party. They’re dreadful.

69. What’s your favourite holiday and why?

Xmas, because it feels like happiness.

70. What’s the kindest thing a stranger has ever done for you? Even if it’s TINY like holding a door open for you, something that you rememer even though they were a complete stranger.

A stranger helped me when my nose was bleeding like crazy and I was alone in a mall. He also bought me an orange juice.

71. Who’s your favorite cartoon character?

Motoko Kusanagi.

72. What’s the first song that comes to your mind while reading this and why?

Reptile - NIN. Don’t know why.

73. Put the 7 deadly sins in order of the one you commit the most to the least.

Wrath - Lust - Pride - Sloth - Greed - Gluttony - Envy.

74. What would you like to be the first dance song at your wedding?

I’m already married and we danced over Christian Woman by Type 0 Negative XD

75. Have you ever been told you look like a famous person, if so, who?

Someone told me I look like Butterfly from Death Proof and like Amy Lee from Evancescence.

I really don’t see it.

76. What’s one thing you can not live without?

Art. And music.

77. What is the most selfless thing you have ever done for someone?

Going away.

78. Do you hate someone.

No, I dislike a lot of people, I think the world would be better off if some of them would die, it I do not hate them.

79. What are 3 things that have happened in your life that you’ve never forgotten? Big or small, just things you know you won’t ever forget and still seem crystal clear now.

- Almost dying.

- Getting married.

- Signing for my very first house.

80. What comes first to you out of friendships and relationships, and why?

They’re equally important.

81. What’s your favourite children’s tv show/movie?

Muppets: a Christmas Carol.

82. What song makes you cry the most?

Together we will live forever - Clint Mansell.

83. What’s the funniest film you’ve ever seen?

Operation Petticoat.

84. What’s something crazy that you’ve always wanted to do?

Trying human flesh.

85. Has anything ever happened to you that you just can’t forgive?

A lot. Just, a lot.

86. What’s your biggest fear?

Being abandoned.

87. What is your favorite food?

Red meat, pistachio ice cream.

88. Least favorite food? Why?

Celery.

89. Have you ever felt ashamed about something? If so what was it & why?

Not that I recall of.

90. Do you keep a journal? If so what mostly goes in it? Random thoughts, feelings, stories?

I always keep a journal, I write in it pretty much everything, dreams, feelings, ideas, thoughts.

91. When was the last time you said something nice to someone & what made you do it?

This morning to my husband, because he deserves it.

92. How do you feel when someone says something mean/disrespectful towards your fave celeb?

Couldn’t care less? Everyone is entitled to his own opinion, even if it’s a shitty one.

93. What’s the saddest story/one that’s touched you the most that you’ve ever heard on the news?

Milena Quaglini’s.

94. If you were told you were going to have 3 daughters, what would you want to name them?

Violante, Lavinia and Artemisia.

95. Do you have a middle name and if so, what is it?

I have two. Valeria and Maria.

96. How did your name get chosen? What’s the story behind it?

My dad found it in a sci-fi book back when he was a teenager. It was the name of the first baby girl born on the moon.

97. What’s the craziest thing you’ve done for each of your faves e.g. waiting in line for hours, getting up early to see them on tv etc?

I watched a streaming reunion in the middle of the night on N7 day.

98. Are you a virgin?

No.

99. What are the stories behind your tattoos/piercings and if you don’t have any, would you like any?

I have wings because I’ve always been obsessed with winged figures and angels.

I have a lot of movies/books quotes because they all means something to me.

I have cherry petals because of Hagakure.

The snowflake is the reminder of a very important person.

The moth is for my self destructive tendencies.

The witch is a homage to me.

The strawberry is a silly Adventure Time reference.

The snake is a biblical reference to both Lilith and Satan.

The Santa Muerte and the black goat are both linked to my beliefs.

100. Do you want to say something to the world?

Stop being stupid, stop making stupid people famous, open a book.

#survey #me #about me #books #tattoos #ink #music

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agustdomain · 4 years

Text

A Slideshow of Road Lines {2}

Synopsis: They say oil and water don’t mix. What about oil paint and engines? He’s an artist reaching toward his dream while the girl with an engine heart is too busy trying to get her hands on the wheel. Is there a way for them to hold onto each other?

Word Count: 5k words

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Genre: college!au, artist!Chris, angst

Warnings: Language, Physical Illness (mentions and depictions of it)

Author’s Note: Would any of you be interested in a character index? I’m going to do it anyways haha but I want to know if that’s something you’d like to see. You know, just in case you need a reference. It is an expansive world after all. Also, I have a playlist specifically for this universe so if that’s also something you’d like to see... Without further ado...

! IMPORTANT NOTE ! This story is taking place in TWO DIFFERENT TIMES. When you see these flowers ❁, the story is shifting from present to past. There will also be a “Then” next to the day in order to further indicate that. If you have any questions, let me know!

> Part One <

DAY 4

Her head is bobbing, her mind dipping in and out of consciousness. Any moment now and she’s going to hit rock bottom, far beyond return.

This is what Y/N deserved for putting off studying for her calculus exam until the night before. The last time she checked the clock-when she was more awake than she is now- it had read 2:03 AM. That had given her a nice seven-hour window to study for the exam in which she was massively unprepared.

Truthfully, she’s been using this exam as her go-to excuse until it was wrung dry. It had been enough to deter worried Hyunjin more than once and barely sated Yeji who’s relentless with pestering her this entire weekend. Even Minnie senses something is off, leaving a Crunch bar at her door for the past three nights.That’s one reason she preferred Chuu over all of her roommates, because she knew when to keep her distance.

The Crunch bars, however, are a nice late night snack.

Her phone buzzing made her head slide off her poised hand, almost right into her desk. Yawning loudly, she scratches at her cheek as she squints down at her phone. Swearing at the brightness, she turns it down before focusing on the only notification that’s lighting up her screen.

Honey

My spidey senses are tingling… Delivered at 3:08 AM

She waits patiently for the three dots to reveal whatever else Hyunjin’s spouting at her this late at night.

Honey

They’re telling me my favorite girl is in need of Honey time...

and Pistachio ice cream. Delivered at 3:09 AM

Even though she’s been trying to avoid him as much as possible, Y/N can’t avoid the smile trying to nudge her lips. She barely began to type a response before he shoots another text at her.

Honey

Before you heartlessly reject me, I’m waiting at the front door. Let me innnnnn

Delivered at 3:11 AM

That’s how after almost failing to creep down the creaky ass townhouse stairs and stubbing her toe on Minnie’s skateboard, she finds a gentle smile and her favorite companion waiting for her.

“Get in here,” She hisses, ignoring his outstretched arms and opting to yank him inside.

“Ouch. Don’t have to be so rough,” He whines a little too loudly.

“Uh, yeah I do. Especially when there’s a dumbass walking around late at night asking to get himself mugged. Or worse, killed.”

“Let them try. You know I could take anyone who tries to come at me,” Posting up, he swings at an invisible opponent, the grocery bag hanging on his wrist making him look ridiculous.

“Shut up before you wake up the Wicked Witch,” Y/N whispers.

His gaze trails to the stairs before shaking his head, kicking off his shoes. “We really need to get Minnie ear plugs or something. I’ve spent enough time around to know she’s louder than a boat horn.”

Y/N has to stifle her laughter. He always knows how to pull it out of her, no matter how hard things are. “Come on, loser. Watch your step. The stairs-”

“Creak. Yeah, I know. You act like I haven’t been here before. Are you going to tell me every single time?”

Not even five seconds later, she hears the stairs creak from behind her. Slowly turning back to look at him, she merely shakes her head at the grimace on his face before leading the way.

Once they close the door behind them, she gets her phone to text the roommate group chat. It’s a rule they had implemented when they first moved in together: keep each other in the loop. To maintain a level of respect, they always let each other know what was going on/who they are having over.

Right as she’s going to hit send, she hesitates. Hovering her thumb over the send button, her eyes peer at Hyunjin. She watches as he observes the wall adjacent to her desk. It’s where she had put up all of her photos when she first moved in. These days, she avoids them considering a lot has changed. She really needed to take some of those pictures down.

Feeling her eyes, he meets her gaze and nods at her in question. Erasing the text, she tosses her phone to her bed before settling at her desk. Instead of facing her notes, she spins the chair to face Hyunjin.

“Honey.”

“Yeah?” He’s still distracted, eyes drawn to the photos but mind somewhere else. What a sight. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him appear so peaceful. She doesn’t want to disrupt that. Unfortunately, she does have an exam she’s studying for and time’s dwindling down.

All she has to do is tell him she needs to focus. Apologize and tell him he needs to go. Thank him for the ice cream but she really needs to finish studying and get some rest. Reassure him that she’ll call him tomorrow.

Five minutes later, both of their backs are pressed against the wall beneath the photos, pistachio carton comfortably between them.

“You know, I used to hate this flavor.”

Y/N glances at him, unbothered at his disruption of the comfortable silence. The spoon rests in his mouth, hands comfortably in his lap. She watches as his right hand twists the metal ring on his left middle finger. Something’s on his mind.

“I think I remember something like that.”

“Yeah, it used to taste like shit. Whenever you got it, I would wonder who made such a nasty ass flavor. Of all things to make as ice cream, they chose pistachio? They must’ve died a virgin.”

“Wow,” Y/N coughs out a laugh, feeling bad for the inventor of pistachio ice cream. Digging her spoon into the carton, she asks, “What changed your mind?”

“You, of course.” Her eyes snap up to meet Hyunjin’s gaze.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? I’m telling you the truth.”

They hold their gaze for a moment before Y/N breaks it, spooning the bite into her mouth before pointing the accusatory spoon at Hyunjin. “That’s bullshit.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. Why would I lie about something so stupid?” He tries to ignore her pointed stare before he adds, “I don’t know, I guess it could be taste buds changing the older you get and shit. But it really was your fault.”

“If I take credit for it, then I’m taking credit for changing your life for the better.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

An intimate silence falls around them, one that’s distinctly Hyunjin and Y/N. She believes their silence is one of the many reasons they work so well. They never need to fill the silence, not like she does when she’s with Yeji.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N swallows the ice cream in her mouth. Licking her lips of the leftover residue, her gaze flickers over to him. He’s trying, that much is obvious. It hurt her to know that she’s being difficult about it all. Even to a stranger, it’d be easy to see she’s avoiding all human contact the moment she heard Chris is back. Her friends are worried about her, yet they respect that she needs time.

It hurts her to see the plain turmoil written in Hyunjin’s body. He hasn’t stopped fiddling with his ring since they sat down. He has this extremely irritating habit of licking his lips. The act itself isn’t frustrating, it was the after effects of him complaining about his dry lips and begging for her or Yeji’s chapstick.

“For what?”

He glances at her before looking forward, his smile sad. “I know him being back is tearing you up inside. And there’s nothing I can do.”

“Hey,” she reaches out and pats his thigh, “You being here is all I need. Well, you and pistachio. The pistachio a little bit more.”

“Shut up,” He laughs, shoving her hand off. Letting the moment pass, he grows serious once more. “I mean it when I say I would do anything to take away your pain. Chris may be my friend, but you’re my number one. I would take your pain and double my own in a heartbeat.”

“Aw, Honey,” reaching over, she ruffles his hair. He secretly loves it, smiling when he swats her hand away again, “Thank you.”

He gives her a short nod before looking off to the side. Never one for appraisal, he avoids the topic. Hyunjin admitted once that compliments were different when it came from Y/N, something along the lines that he knew she was genuine. The thought always makes her sad, so she shoves it aside.

Poking his cheek affectionately, she waits for him to swat her hand once more before leaning her head on his shoulder.

Any thought of Chris or her calculus exam fades away in the presence of the one person who always knows the right words to make her feel better. In that position, she falls asleep as easy as it is when she’s in her bed back home.

~~~~

Y/N doesn’t know how much time has passed. All she knows is her neck is stiff and her body is aching as someone gently shakes her arm.

“Hey. Hey, Y/N. Wake up.” Her eyes shoot open, flinching upright. Scanning her surroundings, she calms down at the sight of Hyunjin beside her. Looking just as exhausted as her, he is waiting on her to respond.

Rubbing at her neck, she sluggishly leans back on the wall, muttering, “What time is it?”

“It’s 5.”

Her eyes shoot open, gawking at him. Even in his sleepy state, he cracks a smile. “5?! Are you messing with me?”

Fumbling for her phone, she swears as she realizes it’s dead. She stumbles to her feet beelining to her desk.

“Come on, come on,” She chants as she waits for her computer screen to turn on. Sure enough, he was right. It’s just after 5 AM. “Shit!”

“What time’s your class?”

“9! I barely even studied!”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” He utters, distracted by his sleepiness.

“Um, that’s not how this works. If I don’t know the material, I’m guaranteed a failing grade.”

“Relax. It’s going to be fine.” Hyunjin can barely keep his eyes open. Y/N, on the other hand, is as awake as a cat in the middle of the night.

“I’m going to shower and then study some more before class.” She’s talking more to herself than him, because when she’s in this mode, hardly anyone can snap her out of it.

He hums, clearly not paying attention as she rummages through her dresser for clothes. Straightening out, she regards him for a moment before heaving a sigh. “You can sleep in my bed. Just don’t, I don’t know, pee in your sleep.”

“Thanks,” is all he can muster before he sprawls his body across her bed and passes out the moment his head hits the pillow.

Without a glance, she heads to her bathroom.

~~~~

By the time she’s back, it’s around 10:15. Thankfully, she only had one class. She wants to punch herself, though, because she’s running on fumes and has an essay due at midnight tonight.

Y/N isn’t expecting Hyunjin to still be knocked out in her bed, pausing in the doorway seeing his figure tucked underneath her comforter.

She hovers at the foot of the bed for a moment, watching him. He’s out cold, so she reaches out and shakes his foot to see if he’d wake up. Narrowing her eyes, she silently starts complaining. Why was he born with the ability to sleep so deeply?

Grumbling, she mutters, “At least we know who’d survive if there was an intruder,” grabbing her only other pillow and lying down in the opposite direction. Looking at him one last time, she yawns, “You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass out,” Before slipping asleep as easy as he must’ve.

~~~~

When her eyes flutter open, she senses someone’s looking at her. Holding her head up, she peers at Hyunjin through one eye before letting her head fall back into her pillow. “What time is it?”

“It’s 5.”

“What?” She screams, scrambling up. Y/N’s already up and off the bed before she realizes he’s laughing. Slowly turning her head toward him, her glare doesn’t deter him, only serves to make him laugh even harder. Lying back down, she slugs him in the leg, his giggles turning to gasps through the pain.

“You’re too easy.”

“Yeah, you would be too if you were still half asleep.” With her eyes still closed, she asks him again for the time.

“It’s 1:30. Boy, can we sleep.” Looking over her shoulder at him, she holds back the urge to laugh at his wild hair saying hello to her. “What?”

“Nothing.” As if he read her mind, he tugs and pulls at the strands, patting his hair down. He knows her mind well.

She doesn’t say anything as she lets herself wake up, and he gives her time. Eventually, they’re both lying there scrolling through their phones. At least, she thinks they are until she glances at him and sees he’s staring off into space.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” his voice is soft, barely audible. Where’s he at? “I think I’m actually going to head out. I have a late class today. I’m going to grab food and then go home and shower.”

“Oh. Okay.” She’s confused at his sudden change up but doesn’t find it suspicious. That is, until he avoids looking at her as he shrugs on his jacket. Awkwardly, she hovers near him as he gathered himself together. “You sure you’re okay?”

Finally, he looks at her. Something’s off and it’s clear as glass in his face. He smiles it off, his tone too bright as he says, “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

They walk down the stairs in silence, her silence one of questions and his, one that’s indecipherable. They pause at the bottom of the steps, grabbing the attention of Chuu who’s lounging on their living room couch.

“Hey, Chuu. Long time no see,” Hyunjin holds up a hand in saluting. She just politely smiles back.

Y/N opens the front door, suddenly very afraid Hyunjin might tell her something before he leaves. Holding the door open, she watches him closely, looking for any signs of what he’s thinking. His face is void of any clues.

She holds her breath in anticipation as he steps around her, before smiling and walking out the door. She exhales in relief, not noticing his lingering walk. Opening her mouth, she readies herself to tell him goodbye. He beats her to the punch as he whirls around.

“Jisung is throwing something this weekend.”

Y/N’s heart sinks, crossing her arms as she retreats within herself. Hyunjin’s face falls, knowing all too well what that looks like. “That’s… great.”

“Y/N…”

“I think it’ll be a lot of fun. You’ll have to tell me all about it afterward.” Her hand grips the door and moves to close it, but Hyunjin’s arm jets out to stop it. Stupid baseball pitcher.

“I want you to be there.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N winces at her loud and fake voice, glancing at Chuu before stepping outside. Hyunjin’s eyes are pleading, his palms showing as if he’s offering her a truce. That’s the thing. It isn’t his responsibility or his place to offer that to her.

She doesn’t know if he’s playing dumb or if he thinks he’s some hero, but he isn’t miraculously going to fix the damage done. No one, not even Chris himself, can convince her otherwise.

“Tell me something, Hyunjin. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No…”

“Then do you think I’d really show up to something I know he’ll be at?”

“Well, the party is for him.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” She shakes her head, taking a step back. “If all everyone is going to do is try and push me to make an effort, news flash. It’s too late for that. Maybe that’s what you guys should’ve been doing right before he left.”

Hyunjin opens his mouth, but she holds up her hand, silencing him.

“Have fun at the party,” Trying to hide her disappointment in him, Hyunjin’s hurt expression is the last thing she sees before closing the front door.

Staring at the door, she follows the curves and swirls in the wood, all together but never touching.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes find Chuu, her wide and innocent eyes regarding her with so much kindness, her own flood with tears.

“I don’t think I am, Chuu.”

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

Day 8, Then

To Y/N, there wasn’t a form of satisfaction quite as fulfilling as turning in an assignment. It was even more satisfying, considering her major wasn’t the easiest one out there. The way life goes, when one stress disappears, another one takes its place.

Trying to ignore the boiling pot of emotions brewing inside of her, she kept her mind as blank as it could be as she packed her duffel bag with clothes for the weekend. She used anything that flitted across her mind and snatched onto it, anything to distract her.

She hoped she did well on the statistics exam she just took yesterday. Studying wasn’t too bad, so she could bear to have a little confidence. Eating lunch with Yeji today was a relief. She thought they might’ve been on bad terms since their last conversation, but everything was normal.

Hyunjin had kind of been M.I.A, but they had been texting normally so she wasn’t too concerned.

As she was gathering her toiletries from the bathroom door, she heard keys jingling in the dorm door before it clicked open. Low voices filtered out from the hall as Chuu entered.

“Y/N?”

“In here!” She finished grabbing everything before walking out, “Aren’t you supposed to be in class-” Just as she finished her sentence, both Chuu and Hyunjin turned to watch her walk out. He took in her presence before his usual honey smile found his lips. “Hey!”

Stepping forward, he did his signature greeting: arms around her, lifting her off the floor, ending with a sweet smile. “Hey.”

“To answer your question, I got out early. Now I can get back to the beautiful Rio and the yummy Profesor. Mmmm,” Chuu said dreamily, Hyunjin’s face scrunching up in confusion while Y/N laughed.

Walking over to her bed, the sight of her duffel slammed her back down into reality. Avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze, she stuck her toiletries in her bag before zipping it up.

“Are you leaving somewhere?”

“I’m going home for the weekend.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know,” Hyunjin’s tone changed. That’s why she didn’t want him to know, “How are you getting there?”

“Mom’s picking me up,” Stop. Block it out. Distraction, anything. Turning to Hyunjin, she quickly shifted the subject. “What’s up? You didn’t text me and tell me you were coming over.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, deciding to let her dismissiveness go for the time being. She was thankful. “I figured you were going to be pouring your energy out over some assignment. I was wrong.”

She was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t find the energy. He noticed, but didn’t press. Instead, he gently knocked his knuckles into her chin, to tell her chin up. It eased her heart, as it always did.

“Actually, I was dropping by to tell you about a little get together we’re having this weekend. Not sure if you remember, but we mentioned our friend Chris? His birthday is in a couple days so next weekend we’re all going to an arcade. There’s this deal they’re doing this month with pizza and endless gameplay.”

She blinked in surprise. He read her mind.

“What? Arcades are fun no matter how old we are. And Chris loves shit like that. It’s going to be a blast.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind me being there? I mean, I’ve never even met him.”

Hyunjin sat on her desk chair, back facing him. Drumming a beat on his thighs, he shook his head, “Trust me, he’s the last person to mind.”

“O-kay,” Y/N turned away, packing her backpack with school stuff she would need for the weekend, “I’ll see. If I don’t have too much homework, I’ll go.”

“Thanks,” A look passed over his face, making her pause, before he uttered, “At least you’re supportive and willing to give my friends a chance. Unlike Yeji.”

She didn’t know what to say. Yeji had actually said something to him. Unbelievable. “Are you two good?”

“I guess.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“It’s whatever. You know how she is.”

“Yeah.” Their silence was a symbol of their mutual understanding. Many people would never be able to fathom the bond the three of them had. Their friendship was a treehouse they had grown and built themselves, no one else had access to the inside.

She jumped when Hyunjin reached around her and shouldered her duffel bag. Searching his eyes, she imagined what he was thinking. Perhaps he was wondering why his cousin was making his life difficult. Y/N wished she had the solution and hoped Yeji would come around- though in all the years they’d known each other, she was as stubborn as a hangnail.

“I’ll walk you down.”

“Okay.”

~~~~

The wave of suffocation that washed over her was hard to shake off as she stepped into her childhood home. It was and it always had been her sanctuary. The same living room, the same kitchen, the same dining room table with mismatched chairs from different sets over the years. The same family photos scattered about, the same stains in the carpet. The same love in her heart for her parents.

Except it would never be the same.

Right after her high school graduation a few months ago, her parents told her that her dad wasn’t well. It wasn’t a cold, a flu, it wasn’t something he would get over in a month or two. It was something bigger than life itself, one that could command death with the clap of its hands.

She hated it with every single fiber of her being.

How could one illness dictate the paintings of memories? Now, she didn’t look at family photos of her and her dad and feel joy, only pain for a memory not tainted yet? When she smelled their laundry detergent in the air, she wondered if it would cover up her father’s scent in the unforeseeable future. It was morbid, it was suffocating.

Her sanctuary became her prison overnight.

“Your dad’s lying down in the room. If you want, you can bring him a snack,” Her mom suggested, Y/N nodding as she swallows the pool ball in her throat. She tried to ignore the paleness to her mother’s skin. Eyes bloodshot, body sluggish from lack of sleep. An alternate reality of the woman she once knew.

Her mom disappeared into the kitchen as Y/N shakily took off her shoes. This wasn’t the first time she had been home since she moved on campus, but she wasn’t used to the shift in her home. She probably never would be.

Just as she placed her bags down, her mom reappeared with her dad’s favorite snacks: Ritz crackers and sliced up cheese. In her other hand, a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N didn’t recognize her own voice. She pretended not to hear the crack. Her mom ignored it, too.

“He’s going to be so happy to see you. All day, he’s been talking about you coming home.”

The words were a smack across the face-no, they were a hand reaching into her chest and breaking her ribs in half.

Her mind blanked.

And then she was in front of him. He was physically smaller than who used to be, his face pale and his hair greasy, but his spirit was just as scorching. His eyes were trained out the window, lips pursed in thought. His body might’ve been worn down, but his spirit would always be as bright as a fury.

She fought the urge to cry. Setting the glass down alerted him of her presence. At the sight of that same old smile she knew too well, all of her pain was washed away.

“Y/N, my girl. You’re home!”

“Hey, dad.”

His hugs were still strong, encasing her and letting her know she was safe.They talked for a bit, her heart swelling as she watched him eat his crackers. He asked her about school, he told her about what he’d been watching on tv these days. They even sidetracked and chatted about the new cars set to release this year. Hardly anyone knew it besides her best friends, but her and her dad shared even the smallest things in common- like their interest in cars.

When he invited her to watch a movie, she sat beside him on the bed and took a cracker when he offered. He put on some cringe comedy that they both made fun of, which is what really made them laugh.

There wasn’t any true remedy to her stress, to her unhappiness, like being home was. And her dad? Laughter was as natural as breathing when she was with him. Halfway through the movie, her mom joined them. She pretended she was okay just like her mom did, but with her dad cracking jokes it was easier to keep up the facade.

Once the end credits rolled, her eyes trailed to her dad. His eyes were distant, elsewhere. With one glance, she was reminded of a reality she hated. Noticing her staring, he shook it off and smiled beneath his moustache.

“Your dinner is in the microwave, Y/N,” Her mom told her. Y/N took that as a chance to breathe, standing up slowly. Right before she made it out the door, her dad called for her.

“Before I forget, here,” He shuffled through his bedside table before finding what he was looking for. Her mouth worked on its own, rejecting what he was clearly doing as he pulled out money from his wallet. The stern hush from him silenced her protests. “I want you to remember to treat yourself. I know how you get when you’re stressed. You don’t give yourself time to breathe. So treat yourself with this money, okay?”

“Dad…”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~~

Several hours later, Y/N awoke from her already restless sleep. Her head was throbbing, her eyes puffy and nose runny, so she sluggishly made her way to the bathroom and cleaned herself up before deciding to go get some water. Quietly, she went down the stairs and turned the lights on in the kitchen.

She didn’t spend that much time in the kitchen, not anymore. Whenever she was home now, she wasn’t very hungry.

Just as she reached the halfway mark of her glass, her dad’s voice startled her and made her spill the rest all over her shirt. Her shock quickly dissolved into amusement as he tried not to laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry,” She side-eyed him as he slowly made his way to the dining table. She knew he would get upset if she offered to help him. “What are you doing awake?”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” She asked, dreading the answer but asking nonetheless.

“The past,” He casually said, his eyes elsewhere once more. “Actually, I was thinking about when you were little.”

Y/N froze with her hands on the banana she had just taken off the bunch. She must’ve looked ridiculous, frozen like that. It was a good thing it was only her and her dad there, then. “Oh yeah?” She needed to get a handle on this. “What were you thinking of, exactly?”

He smiled to himself, then, and as he began to tell her a story, his voice coaxed her into the past.

“You had to have been six or seven, maybe eight. I had gotten off work early and decided to get you out of school early, too. You were so happy, not to see me, but to be out. Back then, you weren’t so wound tight about your studies, you know,” He teased her then, pointing a finger at her, “You wanted to be a grizzly bear when you grew up. Well, that day, when I was buckling you into your carseat you kept on saying, ‘Daddy, I’m so happy you’re here! You’re here! I’m so happy! Thank you, Daddy!’ I mean, I was your hero all because I picked you up early.

“After grabbing lunch, we were walking around the mall. Usually, you asked for candy or if we walked past a toy store, you wanted everything in it. That day was different. We walked past one of those off-brand shoe stores. You set your eyes on the most different pair of shoes I’ve ever seen. I mean, they were bright orange with blue shoelaces! And on each shoe, there was a drawing of a red bear.”

He paused in the story, and she looked away at the sight of his shining eyes. Laughing to himself, he continued.

“You said, ‘Daddy! That’s me! I’m a bear! Can we get those shoes? Please?’ I pretended to think about my answer, but I knew I was going to get whatever was at the end of the most pure adoration on your face.” Y/N blinked, realizing the story was over. They soaked in the feeling together, the ticking of the clock on the wall the only sound filling the kitchen. Except, it wasn’t the only sound. Even if she didn’t remember what he was talking about, she could picture those shoes as if she still wore them.

“Let’s go to bed, Dad.”

He nodded, both of them looking at each other and wishing they could rewind time. He, for nostalgia. She, to avoid the pain.

“Come on,” He said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and kissing the crown of her head, steering her out the kitchen.

When she made it back to bed, she found it easier to fall asleep. Chest lighter, she seized the opportunity to ignore all of the overwhelming heartache that seeped into her skin whenever she was home.

> Part One <

> Part Three <

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blackkudos · 4 years

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Bernice King

Bernice Albertine King (born March 28, 1963) is an American minister and the youngest child of civil rights leaders Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King. She was five years old when her father was assassinated. In her adolescence, King chose to work towards becoming a minister after having a breakdown from watching a documentary about her father. King was 17 when she was invited to speak at the United Nations. Twenty years after her father was assassinated, she preached her trial sermon. Inspired by her parents' activism, she was arrested multiple times during her early adulthood.

Her mother suffered a stroke in 2005 and, after she died the following year, King delivered the eulogy at her funeral. A turning point in her life, King experienced conflict within her family when her sister Yolanda and brother Dexter supported the sale of the King Center for Nonviolent Social Change. After her sister died in 2007, she delivered the eulogy for her as well. She supported the presidential campaign of Barack Obama in 2008 and called his nomination as part of her father's dream.

King was elected president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference in 2009. Her elder brother Martin III and her father had previously held the position. She was the first woman elected to the presidency in the organization's history, amidst the SCLC holding two separate conventions. King became upset with the actions of the SCLC, amid feeling that the organization was ignoring her suggestions and declined the presidency in January 2010.

King became CEO of the King Center only months afterward. King's primary focus as CEO of The King Center and in life is to ensure that her father's nonviolent philosophy and methodology (which The King Center calls Nonviolence 365) is integrated in various sects of society, including education, government, business, media, arts and entertainment and sports. King believes that Nonviolence 365 is the answer to society's problems and promotes it being embraced as a way of life. King is also the CEO of First Kingdom Management, a Christian consulting firm based in Atlanta, Georgia.

Early life

Early childhood and tragedies

Bernice Albertine King was born on March 28, 1963, in Atlanta, Georgia. The day after she was born, her father had to leave for Birmingham, Alabama, but he rushed back when it was time for Bernice and her mother, Coretta, to leave the hospital. He drove them home himself but, in what was all too typical with the work he was doing, had to leave them again within hours. Following her birth, Harry Belafonte realized the toll the Civil Rights Movement was taking on her mother's time and energy and offered to pay for a nurse to help Coretta with the Kings' four children. They accepted and hired a person that would help with the children for the next five or six years. Her father died a week after Bernice's fifth birthday.

Once, she and her sister Yolanda thought it would be funny to pour water into their father's ear while he was sleeping. Their father, though, was furious. It was the first and only time he would ever spank them.

Later on, Coretta told Bernice that her father had celebrated her fifth birthday, knowledge that has been special to her since. King said she has only two strong memories of her father, one of him at home with their family and the other of him lying in the casket at his funeral. "I don't let people know this, but I think of my father constantly," King said at age 19. "Even though I knew him so little, he left me so much." When her father was assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee, Bernice was asleep. When she woke up, her mother told her that the next time she saw her father would be at his funeral. In the April 1998 issue of BET Entertainment Weekly, King reflected, "I was five when my father was assassinated, so I had no concept of who my father really was. I have been told, but imagine trying to really understand or put it in its proper perspective at that age. When it finally became clear to me around fifteen or sixteen, I was angry at him because he left me. So I didn't want to have anything to do with my father."

After her husband's death, Coretta Scott King took on the role of raising four children as a single mother. Family friends recall that she spent considerable time with Bernice, who feels that being raised by a single parent has given her special insight into single-parent homes. “I didn’t have a father to deal with about boyfriends. I didn’t have a father to show me how a man and woman relate in a family setting. Therefore I have given over my life to mentoring young people. I’m adamant about young people who have been denied a father/daughter relationship.”

Other tragedies followed. King's uncle, Alfred Daniel Williams King, drowned in a swimming pool when Bernice was six on July 21, 1969. Five years later, a mentally ill man shot her grandmother Alberta Williams King to death during a service at the Ebenezer Baptist Church on June 30, 1974. King recalled of her grandmother's death, "I remember that day because I had recovered from having my tonsils removed, and I was really looking forward to getting back to Ebenezer, which was pastored by my grandfather on my dad's side of the family." Just two years later in 1976, her 20-year-old cousin Darlene King died of a heart attack. Her grandfather Martin Luther King Sr. also died of a heart attack on November 11, 1984. Also her other cousin Alfred King the second in 1986.

Finding strength through these childhood tragedies, King jokingly said, required "A lot of prayer. Some crying. Some screaming." Through all of her struggles, she has looked for someone to relate to in "moments" because "nobody fits the bill." Her sister, Yolanda, nearly eight years older, lived through parts of the Civil Rights Movement that she never did. On the other hand, she has written that she believes her brothers have had a life significantly different from hers because "Guys process things differently."

Call to ministry

Bernice has said that the deaths of her grandmother and uncle caused her to have anger issues since she was 16 years old. At that age, she saw Montgomery to Memphis, a documentary film on her father's life from the time of the Montgomery Bus Boycott of 1955 to his assassination in 1968, and "went through almost two hours of crying" and questioning. She had seen the film many times growing up, but the particular viewing "triggered an emotional explosion that later would thrust her into the arms of a loving God." King reflected: "When I saw the funeral scene, I just broke down. I ran out of the cabin into the woods, and for nearly 2-1/2 hours, I just cried." She credited the viewing with influencing her to become a minister like her father, who served as a minister at Ebenezer Baptist Church.

She was with her church youth group in Georgia mountains. King aspired to become the first female President of the United States at the time of seeing the documentary. Timothy McDonald brought the tape of the documentary and comforted her when she started crying. According to McDonald, he explained to her that it was good that she let out how she felt and called coming to terms with her father's death "a stepping stone upon which you will build the rest of your life”.King attended Douglass High School in Atlanta. Her brother Dexter Scott King attended the school as well and graduated when she was a sophomore. At 17, she was invited to speak at the United Nations in the absence of her mother. According to King, she also received a call to ministry that year.

Adult life

At the age of 19, she made her first major speech in Chicago, and stated that "We've come a long way. But we have a long way to go." In early 1983, King gave a speech at St. Sabina Church in Chicago. Many members of the audience said that she reminded them of her father. King attended Grinnell College in Iowa, and graduated from Spelman College, a historically black college in Atlanta, with a degree in psychology. King says she had thoughts of suicide before "God intervened."

King was arrested with her mother Coretta and her brother Martin Luther King III on June 26, 1985 with the offense of demonstrating in front of an embassy. They were participating in anti-apartheid demonstration in front of the South African Embassy. The three stayed in jail overnight. The youngest daughter of Martin Luther King, his widow and his eldest son were charged with a misdemeanor, demonstrating within 500 feet of an embassy.On January 7, 1986, King was arrested with her sister Yolanda and her brother Martin Luther King III for "disorderly conduct." Bernice and her siblings were arrested by officers deployed to the Winn Dixie supermarket. The supermarket had been subject to protest since September 1985, which was when the Southern Christian Leadership Conference began boycotts of South African canned fruit. It was the first time Bernice and her siblings had been arrested together at a protest. On January 15, 1987, what would have been her father's 58th birthday, King spoke in Chicago and told denizens to stay away from drugs.

On May 14, 1990, King became the second woman to be ordained at Ebenezer Baptist Church. She said that it was "the most humbling moment for me in my life." King insisted that she was "not worthy of this high calling. No blood, no sweat, no tears could earn me this high calling."On January 18, 1992, President George H. W. Bush visited the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change. King spoke during his visit of the problems of racism, poverty and violence remained in America since her father was alive, but did not directly align any of the issues with President Bush.

In January 1994, King voiced her opposition to New Hampshire's refusal to recognize Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, calling the decision "racist and separatist." On May 21, 1994, she attended the African-American Women's Conference where she said that parents should not let their children listen to "gangster rap" because of messages in the lyrics.In 1996, King published a collection of her sermons and speeches called Hard Questions, Heart Answers. In 2000, she narrated a performance of Aaron Copland's Lincoln Portrait at the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival in Kiel, Schleswig-Holstein, Germany. In January of that year, King joined Fred Shuttlesworth in headlining a two-week campus celebration of her father's life at Stanford University.

King said her mother heard Obama's speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention and contacted her the following day over the senator's address, expressing her belief in Obama's political future. In June 2006, King told a teenage audience that she intended to do more to carry on the legacy of nonviolence espoused by her parents during the 20th annual 100 Black Men of America conference in Atlanta. "My desire is not to be a hypocrite," King said. "I want to make sure my life is not a contradiction when I take a platform."On January 30, 2007, one year after the death of her mother Coretta, King founded the Be A King Scholarship at Spelman College, her alma mater, in honor of her mother's legacy. On June 10, 2007, King acted as a presenter at the 2007 Atlanta H.U.F. Awards. Afeni Shakur said she was happy to have King and the other presenters "participating" that year.

She was an elder at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church, but resigned in May 2011. King joined the church in 2002 and came to regard Bishop Eddie Long as her mentor and spiritual father. The church was the setting for her mother's funeral. Despite her leaving of the church coinciding with Bishop Eddie Long's settlement agreement in sexual misconduct lawsuits he had fought since September 2010, King said that she had planned to leave New Birth Missionary Baptist Church for weeks. "It has nothing to do with anything that's going on with Bishop Long," King said on May 25, 2011. "I always knew I would not be at New Birth forever. This is the time for me to leave." On May 25, 2011, King told an interviewer that her last time serving as a member of the church was the past Sunday. She has said her decision to leave was because of her desire to continue the legacy of her parents, which had grown stronger since the death of her mother. At the time that she chose to leave the church, she planned on starting her own ministry.

King donated $100,000 of her personal funds, while $75,000 was donated from Home Depot and $15,000 from New Birth Missionary Baptist Church. The scholarship will be awarded to two rising seniors at Spelman College who are majoring in music, education or psychology. On May 4, 2013, a rose was planted for King's mother, Coretta, at the Alabama Capitol. Bernice said that while her mother loved roses, she did not have much time to tend to them because she was continuing her husband Martin Luther King, Jr.'s legacy.

On April 29, 2014, King and her brother Martin Luther King III joined Governor of Georgia Nathan Deal while he signed legislation to provide a statue of their father. “We all know that monuments and statues are that, they’re things we put in place for people to remember and it's not always for our generation,” Bernice King said. “It’s really about the next generation.” On May 31, 2014, King accepted a $50,000 grant from Microsoft during the opening of its store at Perimeter Mall in Atlanta. Also in attendance to the ceremony were Mary Carol Alexander, Georgia Department of Labor Commissioner Mark Butler and Representative Tom Taylor. On June 24, 2014, King's parents were posthumously awarded the Congressional Gold Medal. Bernice King stated in a statement released after the award was announced that the King family was "deeply honored" by her parents "being given this award in recognition of their tireless and sacrificial leadership to advance freedom and justice through nonviolence in our nation". King was the keynote speaker at the Atlantic City Rescue Mission 50th anniversary gala, held on August 14, 2014.

First sermon

At the age of 24, Bernice decided to become a minister, and she earned a Master's degree in Divinity and a juris doctor from Emory University. King is also a member of the State Bar of Georgia. During her college years, King considered a career as a television anchor. In May 1988, King was among the students of Emory charging that the college should hire more African-Americans as teachers and teach the works of African-American theologians in its courses. She said, "Black students on predominately White campuses have been ignored, humiliated, intimidated...and in many instances, eliminated." She said the students and people in general had excused the "insensitivity" of the administration and faculty "for too long." Bernice served as a student chaplain at the Georgia Retardation Center and Georgia Baptist Hospital as part of the requirements for her theology class and interned at the Atlanta City Attorney's office. She is a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority, as was her mother.

On March 27, 1988, nearly 20 years after her father's assassination, King delivered her first sermon at Ebenezer Baptist Church. The sermon's theme was "You've Got To Rise Above The Crowd." King said her decision to deliver the sermon as "affirming a call I received at 17." She also said, "At some point in our lives, comes the moment of decision. For me, that moment is now. I submit myself totally to the will of God." Andrew Young, who attended the sermon, compared her style to her father's and noted their similarities while calling listening to her speak "a very emotional occasion for me."

Young also said that King becoming a minister "almost makes you believe preaching is hereditary," after her service. By delivering an "acceptable sermon," King was given her license to preach by Joseph Roberts, pastor of Ebenezer who stated, "We rejoice with God, the angels and the archangels that another warrior, a peaceful warrior, is fighting under the spirit of her father, grandfather and uncle." Veteran members of the church said her style was similar to her father's.

King's mother said at the time that she was satisfied with her daughter's decision to become a minister and stated that they had become closer than ever in the months leading up to the sermon. She also said listening to her daughter delivering a sermon with the same fervor and intensity her father had "was a joyous occasion; a real thanksgiving." Also in attendance where all three of her elder siblings, Yolanda, Martin Luther King III and Dexter. King's maternal grandparents were reported by her mother to have also been moved by the speech. Her sermon was delivered the day before her twenty-fifth birthday.

King Center

In 2008, King and her brother, Martin Luther King III, filed suit over the alleged mismanagement of funds from the King Center against their brother Dexter Scott King, who then filed a countersuit against them. Dexter King articulated his distress over Bernice's conservative religious views as departing from their father's legacy. In October 2009 the lawsuits were settled out of court.

In January 2012, King was named CEO of the King Center. On May 19, 2012, King met with Aïssata Issoufou Mahamadou, First Lady of Niger and wife of Mahamadou Issoufou. Mahamadou's visit to the King Center was a priority during her trip to the United States, having been an ardent admirer of King's father and mother. King accepted a plaque bearing crucifix symbols from Mahamadou.

On September 26, 2013, Evelyn G. Lowery died at her home. The King Center released a statement from Bernice King in response to her death, with her saying "I am deeply saddened by the death of Mrs. Evelyn Gibson Lowery, and my heart goes out to her husband, Dr. Joseph E. Lowery and their three daughters, Yvonne Kennedy, Karen Lowery and Cheryl Lowery-Osborne. We are never prepared to say 'goodbye' to a loved one."When Vice President Joe Biden aligned with her in celebrating a "naturalization ceremony" for an estimated hundred immigrants on November 16, 2013, she displayed distaste for the terms "illegal aliens" and "illegals".

On March 28, 2014, in honor of King's 51st birthday, the King Center hosted a girl and women's empowerment event. The organization held a special screening of the documentary "Girls Rising." King herself said the experience was "designed to educate, empower and inspire young women to confront and overcome the obstacles they face in their struggles to fulfill their dreams and impact the global community.”

On August 13, 2014, King addressed the shooting death of Michael Brown and demonstrators reacting in response. She called on demonstrators to channel their responses into constructive nonviolent action, and mentioned witnesses giving conflicting accounts of the shooting. On August 19, King expressed her belief that the community of Ferguson, Missouri was crying out for help after years of neglect. It was reported that a small delegation from the King Center would travel to Ferguson and planned to meet with "every element" of the community.The following day, August 20, King released a statement on Michael Brown's death, sympathizing with his parents. On August 26, King addressed students at the Riverview Gardens High School. King told the students her father's legacy was "on the line" and if “this doesn’t turn out the right way, it could begin to have people question what happened years ago.”

Public speaking

King was the keynote speaker at the Seminole County Prayer Breakfast in February 1998. Geoff Koach, spokesman for Strang Communications, said prior to the breakfast that there was an expectation to see "a lot more people of color there" and another reason for her being chosen to speak was to quell racial tensions in the county. He added: "We felt she could help unify citizens, the various organizations, government and church officials."In June 2006, five months after her mother's death, King made it known to a number of teenagers during the panel discussion at the 20th annual 100 Black Men of America conference in Atlanta that she intended to continue the legacy of nonviolence that had been attributed to her parents. That same year, King and her brother Martin Luther King III expressed interest in creating a civil rights museum near Ebenezer Baptist Church and the King Center, where both of their parents are buried.

On January 20, 2009, she joined her brother Martin Luther King III on CNN's The Situation Room to discuss the inauguration of the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama.

On April 17, 2009, King delivered an address at Liberty University. LU Chancellor Jerry Falwell, Jr. said that the university had been looking forward to King speaking all year. He said King helped "to bridge the divide that was created between different groups of students during the 2008 election season. For example, she gave a strong Gospel message today. African American Christians and white Christians have been separated into different political camps in the last generation or so but they share many of the same core values, especially when it comes to social issues like abortion, marriage and school vouchers." King said the university was a place for "kings-in-training." She told Liberty University students they were "very blessed and highly favored to be at an institution such as this." She called for students to accept “your identity. You’re a king. Don’t ever see yourself as a subject."

On July 7, 2009, King spoke alongside her brother Martin at the Staples Center in Los Angeles at a ceremony commemorating the life of Michael Jackson.

On October 16, 2011, King mentioned at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial opening that the memorial had been in the making for a lengthy amount of time and a "priority" for her mother. She and her brother Martin supported Occupy Wall Street protests. On January 13, 2012, King was the keynote speaker at the 24th Annual Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Awards Dinner. On March 29, 2012, a month after the shooting death of teenager Trayvon Martin, King released a statement through the King Center. In her remarks, she referred back to the deaths of her father and paternal grandmother, who like Trayvon Martin, were killed by firearms. She concluded her statement by saying we "are still on the journey to the Mountaintop. Join me on the journey as we pray for Trayvon's family, the community of Sanford and all who are in danger of being victims of violence."

She made a public statement with regard to the State of Florida v. George Zimmerman verdict on July 15, 2013 via a CNN appearance with Wolf Blitzer. She clarified a tweet she had posted on Twitter, and explained that the handling of the verdict would "determine how much progress we've made". She spoke at a town hall meeting dedicated to Trayvon Martin and has admitted to having been "heartbroken" by the verdict. She said Trayvon Martin's death and Zimmerman's acquittal were a wake-up call for Americans.

On August 28, 2013, the fiftieth anniversary of the March on Washington, in which her father took part, King spoke and related that the denizens of the United States were "still bound by a cycle of civil unrest and inherit social biases, in our nation and the world, that often times degenerates into violence and destruction". Despite this, she admitted to being pleased to see many young people and women at the event, noting that was not the case during the March on Washington itself. King alluded to the death of teenager Trayvon Martin in February 2012 and said "If freedom stops ringing, then the sound will disappear and the atmosphere will be charged with something else. Fifty years later, we come once again to this special landing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to reflect, to renew and to rejuvenate for the continued struggle of freedom and justice."

She spoke at the Boys & Girls Clubs of Northeast Florida fundraiser on October 29, 2013, where she encouraged involvement in the lives of children. King addressed the death of Nelson Mandela on December 5, 2013. On January 20, 2014, the year's Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, King spoke at Ebenezer Baptist Church. King said there was "much work that we must do" and asked if we are "afraid, or are we truly committed to the work that must be done?"

On March 19, 2014, King gave a speech at Seminole State College of Florida as part of the school's Speaker Series. It focused on the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington and the Civil Rights Act of 1964. After her address, King was presented with a key to the city by Sanford Vice Mayor Velma Williams. King spoke at Fontbonne University on September 17, 2014. She was joined by members of the King Center staff, who aided her in urging the community to not act out with violence.

March against same-sex marriage

On December 11, 2004, King participated in a march against same-sex marriage in Atlanta. This action was in contrast to the advocacy of her mother, Coretta, and her older sister Yolanda, both longtime, outspoken supporters of gay rights. She was joined by senior pastor at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church Eddie Long, who said in a written statement that the march was not "to protest same-sex marriage, but to present a unified version of righteousness and justice." At the time of the march, King said she had become a "spiritual daughter" of Eddie Long and the issue of same-sex marriage legalization had left many divided. "The question is, how do you overcome that pain?" she said. "It may be the wedge that stays with us for a long time. We have to get to a place where it does not become the most defining issue of our time."

She incorporated the King Center and the eternal flame at her father's tomb into the march. The King Center denied her permission to begin the march at her father's tomb and accused her of doing so to "provide support for her own personal cause" and "to enhance her personal standing in New Birth." The event was also criticized by gay rights organizations, which stated it betrayed the legacy of her father. Chuck Bowen, a spokesman for Georgia Equality, stated that he was surprised to learn of the march. "I think it's very sad," Bowen said. "I think she's abusing the good name of Dr. King and the work he did creating equality for all Americans."

Deaths of mother and sister and King Center sale

King's mother, Coretta Scott King, had a stroke in August 2005. She died on January 30, 2006. King delivered the eulogy at her funeral. King called her mother's death a "major turning point." She felt that her mother's death was a "rebirth" for her, "in terms of understanding that I come from roots of greatness and I am called to greatness and there's nothing I can do but try to be my best self." On October 24, 2005, Rosa Parks died of natural causes. Her funeral took place on November 2, 2005. Bernice King attended the funeral and delivered remarks on behalf of her mother. Bernice was the only one of the four King children to be with Coretta Scott King when she died and learned that her mother's remains could not be transported back to Georgia, since Mexican authorities required an autopsy first.

In the months between her stroke and death, Bernice and her brother Martin Luther King III vowed to fight the sale of the King Center to the National Park Service. The siblings were put against their brother Dexter and sister Yolanda, who supported and voted in favor of the sale in early December 2005. On December 30, 2005, King and her brother Martin stated that their priority was to preserve their "father's legacy and their mother's dream." Bernice stated of her mother's opinion on the sale that "She felt at some point that it may, in fact, end up with the government, but she never envisioned that in her lifetime." Andrew Young said transferring power would allow the family to focus more on Martin Luther King's message of nonviolence and less on maintaining the grounds. Bernice King said government ownership, which would befall the King Center if it were sold to the National Park Service, would result in "a loss of ideological independence." Martin Luther King III stated that Bernice had been removed as secretary and that he had been replaced as chairman by their brother Dexter.

16 months later, on May 15, 2007, King's sister Yolanda King died after collapsing and was unable to be revived. King delivered the eulogy at her sister's memorial on May 24, 2007. During Yolanda King's eulogy, King admitted that her death was even more difficult than her mother's and said her sister often addressed her as her "one and only sister." She added, "It's very difficult standing here blessed as her one and only sister. Yolanda, from your one and only, I thank you for being a sister and for being a friend." She joined her brothers in lighting candles in their sister's memory.

Southern Christian Leadership Conference

With her brother Martin Luther King III, she has played an active part in reforming the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) once led by her father. When she was elected President and CEO of SCLC on October 30, 2009, a position previously held by both her father and brother, she became the first woman to lead the group, but discord in the organization has prevented her taking that position. King's election was won by a 23-to-15 vote, allowing her to defeat Arkansas judge, Wendell Griffen. Specialists said King would need to move beyond her family history when she took the position the following year. Andra Gillespie, a professor at Emory University in Atlanta, said King could hark back to her father's legacy, but that she was going to have to "redefine" it. Gillespie also stated that King would have to "figure out a way to push that legacy forward so we don't perpetuate a stagnant, chauvinistic civil rights agenda."

Despite her excitement being "high", King noticed the SCLC's board of directors had started "ignoring" suggestions she made to "revitalize" the organization. King said that she had made suggestions to the SCLC about how the presidency might operate in October 2010, but was not contacted formally until January, three months later. She stated that she felt "disrespect" by the three months in between her suggestions to the organization and their response. Despite this, she said that she would continue to "pray for them to move in a positive direction". On October 1, 2010, she led a prayer to an audience of around 200 people that had come to pray for healing and reconciliation of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. Through prayer, King said, they would "seek to destroy the work of the enemy." King called the SCLC preparing to hold two separate conventions "an unfortunate turn of events." In January 2011, three months after making the plea, she declined to be SCLC's president. While in Birmingham, Alabama on August 11, 2014 for the national convention of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, King endorsed having the 2016 Democratic National Convention be held in Birmingham, reasoning the "golden anniversary of civil rights events throughout the south and Birmingham in particular offers added significance" to it being held there.

Legal issues

King and her brother Martin Luther King III accused their brother Dexter of having disengaged them from decisions and shareholder meetings. They alleged that their brother had done this since 2004. On October 12, 2009, the dispute was settled out of court. The King siblings spent the entire day of October 12 locked away. The purpose of the lockdown was for the three to settle on a deal. Following the completing of their meeting, Bernice and her brother Martin said outside the Fulton County Courthouse that the results of the settlement seemed positive.

Book deal

Bernice King and Martin also opposed the giving up of photographs, personal letters and papers of their mother to a biographer. Their brother Dexter asked a judge to force them to comply. The biographer, Ms. Reynolds, met Coretta Scott King in 1972 and said that the widow had asked for her to write a follow up to her 1969 memoir. King and her brother's lawyer stated that their mother had changed her mind about the biography citing Mrs. King's apparent disapproval of Reynolds's writing style. A judge ordered the Kings to appear in court on October 14, 2008. David J. Garrow, biographer of King's father, said that it was "sad and pathetic to see the three of them behaving in this self-destructive way.”

By September 2009, the book deal was defunct and a judge ordered the three siblings to have a meeting. On September 14, King and her brother Martin sat through court motions, testimony and proceedings for more than 13 hours. In a separate hearing, Dexter Scott King's attorney Lin Wood argued that Bernice King willingly ignored a court order. He reasoned this because Bernice did not reveal the contents of the safe deposit box.

Wood also said King's brother Martin and one of Bernice's lawyers, who was no longer on the case, was aware of the letters and refused to reveal them. Bernice's attorney Charles Mathis said she "did not conceal anything" and said "She thought she was doing what she was supposed to do when she told her first lawyer. There was not an intentional failure to disclose."

The next day, Dexter Scott King's lawyers contended that Bernice was legally compelled to turn the letters over to Dexter, but ignored the order. Dexter's attorney Wood said "Regardless of what your last name is, if you have willfully withheld then you must suffer the consequences." Wood noted that Bernice denied the existence of the safety deposit box several times while under oath, which she said she found after the death of her sister Yolanda, who once owned it.

Mishandling of memorabilia

On August 28, 2013, the fiftieth anniversary of the March on Washington, the King estate filed a lawsuit against the King Center alleging that it had been careless with its handling of Martin Luther King, Jr. memorabilia. The lawsuit also claimed that attempts to resolve the issue with King Center CEO Bernice King have failed and that there had been a "total breakdown in communication and transparency." The King estate sent a 30-day notice to the Center in August 10, 2013. It notified the center that the licensing agreement for the King memorabilia was being terminated and that the center could avoid this by placing Bernice King on administrative leave and pulling Andrew Young and Alveda King from the board. According to the estate, Alveda King tried to "impede" the audit.The estate sought a court order barring the center from using the memorabilia after the license expired.

Bernice King announced in a statement on January 22, 2015 that the estate of her father, run by her brothers, had voluntarily dropped the lawsuit. She said the King Center's positions on its legal rights were vindicated by the estate's dropping of the lawsuit and that the action was a sign that the siblings' feud was on the road to reconciliation.

Belafonte documents

Harry Belafonte filed a lawsuit in October 2013, where he asked to be declared the owner of three documents given to him by the Kings and for their daughter Bernice King to be barred permanently from trying to claim ownership. The documents are Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "Casualties of the War in Vietnam", which Belafonte stated he had been in possession of since 1967, the undelivered "Memphis Speech" found in Martin Luther King's pocket after his assassination and a letter of condolence sent by President Lyndon B. Johnson to the then-newly widowed Coretta Scott King. The King estate and Bernice King disputed Belafonte's ownership of the documents when in 2008, he took the items to Sotheby's auction house in New York to be appraised and put up for sale. On April 11, 2014, Belafonte and the King estate said in a joint statement that a confidential compromise "resulted in Mr. Belafonte retaining possession of the documents."

Bible and Nobel Peace Prize family dispute

King's brothers Martin Luther King III and Dexter Scott King are interested in selling their father's Nobel Peace Prize and his Bible, which was later used by Barack Obama during his second presidential inauguration in 2013. Her brothers filed a lawsuit against her, complaining that she had "secreted and sequestered" the two items of interest in violation of a 1995 agreement that gives the brothers sole control of all of their father's property. King said in her defense, "I take this strong position for my father because Daddy is not here to say himself my Bible and medals are never to be sold."

Martin Luther King III was reported to have sent her, on January 20, 2014, the year's Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, a letter requesting a meeting to "discuss and vote on whether to offer for purchase at a private sale the Nobel Peace Prize and the King Bible.” On January 22, 2014, Dexter Scott and Martin Luther King III voted as board members of the King estate to pursue the sale of their father's award and Bible. The items had been in Bernice's care since the death of their mother, Coretta Scott King, in 2006. Bernice's position had support by members of the civil rights community, including C. T. Vivian, Andrew Young, and Joseph Lowery. King's cousin, Alveda King, was also supportive of Bernice. She said, "I am standing with her because I do believe we can't have a sale to the highest bidder with those family heirlooms."

On February 4, 2014, Bernice King stated that she would protest the sale of her father's Bible and Nobel Peace Prize and as a result, oppose her brothers. She said profiting from the Nobel Peace Prize's sale would be "spiritually violent" and "outright morally reprehensible." On February 6, 2014, King asked in a press conference in Ebenezer Baptist Church for the media to “refrain from grouping me with my brothers.” On February 19, 2014, a judge ordered her to give up the items, and had them kept temporarily in a safe deposit box under the name of the King estate. The judge will remain in possession of the key until the matter is settled.

The judge compared King's stance against the sale of her father's Bible and Nobel Peace Prize to Coca-Cola not wanting to sell its recipe, and later noted that he was not trying to trivialize the value of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s possessions by making the comparison. While King said that people had urged her to retain the Bible and Nobel Peace Prize and go to prison instead, she complied with the judge's order. On March 6, 2014, she asked her brothers to hold another vote and said she hoped one of them would change his mind. Despite facing an estrangement from her brothers, she hoped that she would be able to reconcile with them on the matter and said she is open to an out-of-court settlement. She appealed to anyone who would consider purchasing the bible and Nobel Peace Prize should they be put on sale to take the moral high road by leaving the "sacred in its sacred state." While she was given a deadline of turning them over by March 3, it was extended another five days, according to one of Bernice's lawyers.

King said that she would never support her brothers in selling the Nobel Peace Prize and Bible. She said that if her father was alive, he would say, "my Bible and my medal are never to be sold, not to an institution or even a person.” On March 10, 2014, King turned over the Nobel Peace Prize and Bible to Martin Luther King III for placement in a safety deposit box in a meeting that lasted five minutes. A lawyer involved in the dispute said few words were exchanged while Bernice surrendered the items. Eric Barnum, an attorney of Bernice King, said that his client "complied with the court order."

On March 14, 2014, Ron Gaither, one of Bernice King's lawyers, argued that William Hill, lawyer of Martin Luther King III and Dexter King, should not have any role in the case because of his involvement in the 2008 dispute between the King children. A judge appointed Hill as Special Master in 2008. Lawyers of Bernice King in a court hearing said that "Hill played a vital and substantial role in adjudicating a multitude of disputes that arose between the parties." The lawyers argued that this gave Hill an advantage while putting Bernice at a disadvantage. Hill's defense of himself was that he only had access to documents related to Coretta Scott King's estate and that Bernice King's lawyers were using a stalling tactic by trying to disqualify him. Fulton County Superior Court Judge Robert McBurney stated that he would soon issue a ruling on whether Hill would be disqualified.

McBurney granted Bernice King's lawyers request and disqualified Hill. A full hearing is scheduled to take place in late September.

Honors and awards

On December 14, 2007, at the State Bar of Georgia Headquarters, King was honored by the Georgia Alliance of African American Attorneys with the "Commitment to Community" award for her work as an attorney and community leader.

On October 7, 2009, King received an award for her "lifetime of service to women and other causes" at the National Coalition of 100 Black Women Convention.

On November 7, 2013, as part of the "Celebrating the Dream”, in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the I Have a Dream speech done by her father, King received the Legend Award as a tribute to his legacy and after she delivered a speech.

Ebony magazine named her one of their Ten of Tomorrow future leaders of the black community.

Views

Gay rights

In 2005, she led a march to her father's gravesite and at the same time called out for a constitutional ban on gay marriage. She once said to LGBT supporters that her father did not take a bullet for same-sex marriage.

During Atlanta's 2012 Martin Luther King Jr. Day rally, King included LGBT people among the various groups who needed to come together to "fulfill her father’s legacy." When speaking at Brown University in 2013, King made statements regarding her beliefs about the origins of marriage: "I believe that the family was created and ordained first and foremost by God, that he instituted the marriage, and that's a law that he instituted and not... that we instituted" and about the origins of same-sex attraction: "I also don't believe everybody's born that way. I know some people have been violated. I know some people have unfortunately delved into it as an experiment". King has publicly stated that her father would have been against gay marriage.

However, by 2015, it appeared she had changed, as she issued a press release as CEO of the King Center supporting the Supreme Court's Same-Sex Marriage ruling.

Abortion

King is opposed to abortion. She believes that life begins and should be protected by law at conception. On August 22, 2013, King expressed her belief that "life begins in a woman’s womb.”

#03/28

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anerdinallherglory · 5 years

Text

Approaching Sun (23)

Author's Note: Hey guys! Summer is flying by and I am already having to start planning for the next school year and attend summer trainings. Keep me in your thoughts because I am hoping my second year of teaching will be much better than the first! Good news is that despite all of this, I am hoping to have another chapter coming your way before the end of summer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter as it focuses more on the heroine of the story!

P.S. This chapter is tightly adapted to the Naruto light novels. Read up on them here and here.

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Chapter 23: Separate Missions

When Sakura Haruno had been dismissed from the Kazekage's council room, she had immediately followed Kankuro to the Sunagakure hospital on the east side of the village. They had not been busy, but when Sakura had been kindly announced, the staff smiled in recognition and escorted her straight to the Children's hospital at her request.

Sakura saw several patients, but none of them had bodily injuries or illnesses to attend to; in their cases, it was their minds and mental well-being that Sakura was assessing. When meeting their first patient, a child named Isao, the head medics insisted on observing her interactions with the child despite the fact that she had modeled this process for them before. It was the first time the kunoichi had sat down with a child since the incident with her patient, Emiko, back in Konoha. It was still a fresh wound for Sakura, but because of that, she took her time examining the child in front of her.

"What's your name?" she asked him, pulling up and reviewing his chart which listed the child's background, symptoms of behavior, as well as his trauma record. There was only one pattern of concerning behavior: frequent night terror episodes. The trauma? The only thing listed was the death of the child's mother.

The child mumbled his name shyly in response, ducking his head, to which Sakura tried to give him a reassuring smile.

Sakura quickly identified all that had been done to rule out any physical ailments or causes that might be the source of the night terrors. A sleep study had been conducted in which heartrate, blood pressure, and breathing had been monitored. After a few more dead ends, the referral information said that the determining factor might be stress.

His mother's death was two years ago, during the Shinobi World War, in fact. Was the child still experiencing stress from her death or was it something more than that? Sakura would have to conduct a formal interview with him in order to figure out what exactly might be the stressor in this child's life.

Sakura began to ask him questions about his life, how old he was, how he was doing at school, who did he live with, where did he live. What she learned from these types of questions was that Isao was an 11 year old boy who lived with his father and seemed to be a fairly happy child despite his mother's passing. He was one of the top students in his class, had a close group of friends, and lived in a household with considerable means.

Sakura switched to the more specific questions in regard to his condition.

"Isao," Sakura smiled again at the young boy, "do you have any dreams during your night terrors?"

Isao looked up towards his hairline in thought for a quick second, but then returned her questions with a confident and mature, "Not that I recall."

Sakura recorded what she could and sent the child home with a promise to see him the following day.

After he departed, Sakura turned to the head medic—a man named Mako that Sakura had worked closely with before—who had remained standing close by and said, "I need to speak to the physician who referred him; there has to be more to this that I can use."

"Right away miss," Mako responded, leaving to retrieve the physician.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

After repeating the process with a few other children, Mako informed her that the most recent adolescent would be the last of their patients for a while. Sakura was then escorted to the greenhouse that she had once visited before so that she could find some helpful herbs for Isao to help him sleep. She also wanted to do a quick session for Mako and his team about what she was discovering with chakra-applied medicine.

When arriving, she quickly came up with a draught for Isao and recreated the burn solvent that she had invented in the leaf to treat the burn victims of Chino's human bombs. Sakura had always been fascinated with how well the Sunagakure hospital was able to recreate an environment such as the greenhouse for most medicinal plants that weren't native to the land.

As she wrote down the ingredients for both medicines, Kankuro walked in with a casual wave. "Came by to check on you. I just finished preparing your rooms. I'll show you where they are as soon as you are finished up here."

"Thank you Kankuro," she smiled politely, "I think I'll be here for quite some time still and I don't want you to have to wait up."

Offering him the same pen she used to write down the burn solvent's ingredients, Kankuro drew her a quick little map on the back of her paper. "It's just to the right of the hospital. Take a right here at the corner and it's the little inn next to it. The manager's name is Chie; she'll take care of you."

She bowed to him, holding the piece of paper gratefully. "Thanks again."

"I'll be off now, but I'll come again before the night is over. Let us know if you need anything else."

She assured him she'd see him later and suddenly felt bad that he felt like he needed to babysit her. She knew that he was just being a good host, much like Shikamaru did for Temari when she had stayed in the Leaf Village at one point, but Sakura still felt it was unnecessary.

After Kankuro's departure, Mako had quickly returned everyone to the subject at hand by exchanging a brief joke in regard to chakra-applied medicine. Catching the very end of it, Sakura explained, "With this medicine, maybe sunburns won't be so much of an issue here." She laughed along with the others and her insecurities left as Kankuro walked out the door.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Kankuro was true to his word and checked on her once more before the sun began to fall beneath the walls of Sunagakure. She waited until dark to make the small trek to her quarters and once again made sure that no one was following her before she entered the inn. Sakura could hear Sasuke's disapproving cluck already if someone else happened to make an appearance in the middle of the night because of her carelessness.

"Welcome," the elderly inn-keeper announced, quickly meeting her at the door, "I am so sorry dear, but all of our rooms are full."

"Oh," the pink-haired ninja exclaimed embarrassingly. There must have been some sort of mistake then. "You're not Chie? I must have the wrong inn," she told the woman, rubbing the back of her head as she looked down at the little hand-drawn map in her hands. "Can you help me find the correct one? Lord Gaara…"

"The Kazekage?!" the woman exclaimed, rushing forward and pulling the map from her hands. After a minute of observing it more closely, the inn-keeper cocked a head at her in second thought. "What is your name, miss?"

Feeling slightly awkward, Sakura smiled as politely as she could. Why was it that she was experiencing moments like this frequently at hotels?

"Haruno, Sakura," she answered plainly, almost telling the woman to forget it all together, instead. But the name sparked recognition in the woman's face, and her eyes grew wide as she began to apologize for her confusion.

"Yes, this way, ma'am," she gestured for Sakura to follow. The situation was explained to her as they walked, all while the woman wrung her hands nervously. "I only have one room for you and your teammate. He insisted that it was fine, but I would be more than happy to arrange for you to have another room miss."

Hadn't the lady just said that all the rooms were full? Sakura paused as she processed slowly what this woman was saying. Chie was explaining that there was only one room for the both of them. Her and Sasuke were going to be sharing a room? And he had said that it was FINE? Sakura's inner-self was both screaming and panicking.

Sure enough, the lady spoke true and Sakura arrived at the end of the very long hallway on the top floor, and surveyed the single, unoccupied, spacious room with two beds. "Again, I am so sorry for my mistake," the woman bowed, and Sakura waved her hands in polite dismissal.

After Chie left, Sakura shut the door and placed her back against it with an exhale. She wasn't so sure if she shouldn't follow the woman and ask for a separate room after all. What was Kankuro thinking giving them the same room? And then Sasuke agreeing to it? Sure, they had stayed together back in Tanigakure, but that was because there were strange ninja after them. Maybe that's why Sasuke agreed to this; maybe he thought this was still considered enemy territory.

Sakura laughed a little when she saw how far away Sasuke had separated the two beds from one another. She could still see the outline of where it had been hours before, just a few feet away from the companion bed. She only recognized it as Sasuke's because his clothing was neatly folded and put to the side of it; the lack of his shirtless-self wandering the room's corridors let Sakura know that he was currently out.

Walking to the opposite side of the dim room, Sakura glanced down at her own bed which was currently occupied by a tray of food and fresh clothes. In response, her stomach growled, and she quickly removed the tray, snagging a few Sunagakure's famous biscuits from it. Sakura was even more excited about the new set of clean clothes. When she and Sasuke had fallen through the time-space dimension after they were attacked, Sakura had left behind her small bag of belongings. This meant the only thing she currently possessed were the dirty clothes on her back.

She quickly washed and changed into them. The beige trousers were exactly her size and fit her like a glove down to her ankles. She was amazed at how great of a guess the staff must have made in order to find them. The simple white tunic fit her a little looser, draped low with sleeves that fell just above her elbows. Sakura tucked the front of the shirt into her pants to give herself more shape and smiled at this version of herself dressed in Sunagakure fashion. Although she preferred her own style of red and white, Sakura thought this was a decent change. To finish the look, Sakura tested out braiding back her damp hair to keep the Sand Village winds from tearing at it. She quickly untangled it once she was sure she had the process of the plait in memory.

Sakura sat cross-legged on her bed, half-tempted but far too shy to pull Sasuke's bed back over to its original spot and blame it on Chie. She'd give him the distance he so obviously wanted even if it went against her own heart's desires. Even when Sasuke was with her, sometimes it seemed he was still very far away.

After several late-night hours of watching the starry sky out the window beside her bed, Sakura realized suddenly that she was waiting on Sasuke to return. And at this very same moment, Sakura made a heartbreaking connection. His clothes had been left behind because Sasuke had left to continue his mission in the desert; Sasuke hadn't cared if they shared a room because he hadn't planned on staying in it.

Sakura recalled her words to Sasuke when she had confronted him back in Konoha about accompanying him on his journey: "I'm a Jonin, now. I have my own mission to fulfill along the way."

And then she also remembered what she had said to Gaara earlier that morning when he asked about her "separate" mission: "I am hoping to check in on Sunagakure's own mental health clinic, as well as share some of my own medical findings with your hospital's doctors, if I may. I would also like to assist in any way medically during our time here."

Yes, she had made it clear to both Sasuke and Gaara about having separate missions but having separate missions didn't mean that Sakura wanted to be… well, separated. Sakura reasoned with herself that this was impractical of her. How else was it supposed to work? But she still felt frustrated. Shouldn't he have at least came and told her he was leaving? Couldn't Sasuke have mentioned when he'd be back, so she wasn't waiting on him? Maybe that had always been her problem.

She fell asleep to the memory of her apartment, the smell of tea, and his monotoned voice telling her, "I want you to stop waiting for me, Sakura."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sasuke stood ankle-deep in sand and focused on his breathing. It was evening now, and the setting, burning sun was a halo of orange fire against his shadowy figure. He breathed in the heat. Inhaled. Exhaled. Once. Twice, and then again. In his mind's eye, Sasuke pictured Kaguya's desert dimension and pretended he was inhaling the heat of that domain instead. This would be Sasuke's first attempt to teleport to any dimension directly without going through the core dimension where he had taken Sakura. It was connected to all of the other dimensions and was the bridge to all of them. But this had been Sasuke's goal for some time: to bypass the core dimension all together and cut his chakra use in half and decrease the time he spent there recovering afterwards.

Summoning the chakra to his Rinnegan, Sasuke exhaled the heat in his lungs as he opened the black rift before him. Pain instantly began in his temples as he reached forward with his chakra to push beyond the core dimension. He searched for the familiar desert, feeding the dojutsu more chakra in hopes of reaching it. More. It needed more, and he grudgingly gave it. Come on, he growled internally, reaching deep into his reserves.

Just then, an image of white sand appeared on the other side of the spinning portal and Sasuke immediately lunged for it. The Uchiha dove and the hot air around him abruptly vanished as pain pulsed like lightning in the back of his skull and behind his Rinnegan. Sasuke dropped to his knees at the sudden loss of chakra that evaporated from him. He knelt in the red dirt of the core dimension and felt the sensation of a vacuum as he lost hold of the sand dimension.

"Damn it!" he cursed and slammed his fist into the ground as a memorable weakness came over him. He knelt his forehead into the soil and let go of the jutsu altogether. He focused on his breathing once more, this time just trying to get as much oxygen as this cursed, airless dimension would allow him to have.

Sasuke had been so close to reaching it, but just couldn't supply enough chakra. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to amass the cost it would take in energy to do what Kaguya had been able to do so easily. Sasuke knew he shouldn't be disappointed since this was his first try at it. And besides, he had helped defeat the mother of chakra. If anyone could copy Kaguya's travel between dimensions, it would be him. Sasuke had to because the village depended on him to do so; he had to keep the future bright.

Sasuke frowned when he suddenly realized that he didn't have enough chakra left to return to his own dimension; he had used up too much trying to stretch the jutsu. He had thought this would happen, had even anticipated it and accepted it. But as Sasuke rolled onto his back and breathed heavily, looking towards where the portal had been milliseconds before, he felt disheartened. He wouldn't be going back to Suna to find Sakura tonight, then. Sasuke would have to recover here for a night or two before he could go back.

Despite having a talk with himself about Sakura's well-being on his journey here, Sasuke contemplated it again now. She would be fine. His pink-haired teammate was more than capable of taking care of herself; she didn't have to prove that to him anymore. Besides, Kankuro was looking out for her if not Gaara. She was busy with her own duties anyway. As long as she rested, she would be fine. Sasuke closed his eyes and let the sand-filled air brush against his face. She would be fine.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sakura was not fine for several reasons. The first was that she had been running off of only a few hours of sleep. How was she supposed to get any of the rest she needed if the kunoichi spent the night wondering about Sasuke? Sakura had tossed half the night in anger and the other half in worry. She knew that Sasuke lived in this exact same situation for two years without her worrying about him. Maybe it had been the encounter with the ninja back in Tanigakure, that still had Sakura's nerves on edge. The two of them hadn't met their pursuers since, but Sakura was still concerned about the confrontation and had never discovered the motive behind their attack. The identities of the ninja still remained a mystery as well. Her major concern was the fact that they had meant to do Sasuke harm first by breaching his room while the Uchiha had been asleep in hers. They came to hers next, Sakura rationalized, only because Sasuke had been absent. Were they really after Sasuke, or was the entire occurrence completely random because they were foreign leaf shinobi? If they were after Sasuke, how long would it take for them to track him down while he was alone in the desert, awayfrom the village and away from her? These were the thoughts that resurfaced in Sakura's mind all night, and she only managed a little sleep because she ended up reminding herself that Sasuke was one of the strongest ninja in the world, and that if anyone was after him, he would easily handle the situation and deal with the enemy on his own.

The second reason why Sakura was not fine, was because they were unable to locate her patient, Isao. After his first appointment with her, Sakura had developed a medicine that would help Isao sleep more soundly throughout the night to help with his night terrors. When his appointment time came first thing in the morning, he didn't show. One of the staff members had walked down to his father's house and had not found anyone home. It was evening now, and Isao had still not made an appearance. Sakura finally settled with writing Isao's father a note explaining her wish to see the boy and having the same staff member take it and leave it at their house.

Despite not seeing Isao, Sakura's schedule was full. Everyone in the village expressed a desire to be seen by the pink-haired medic, either because they believed in her advanced abilities or because they wanted to be included in the rare event. Sakura used their curiosity against them and was able to quickly give them a full exam as well as create detailed medical records for the majority of Sunagakure's citizens.

When Kankuro came to check on her, Sakura embarrassingly assured him that she was more than fine despite the workload. She was in the middle of organizing these records when Kankuro reminded her to make time to see the sunset while she was here. She had briefly mentioned it to him when they had first arrived, and it seemed he still remembered their conversation.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I was able to catch glimpses of it yesterday. I imagine I'll have some time left to do so once I've finished up here."

Kankuro nodded in response and said, "You are doing so much here. Take time for yourself, too."

"Oh, I will!" she promised again as he exited the building, wondering why he was emphasizing this point to her. Sakura had too much on her plate tonight such as finish the records, go over what new information she learned from Isao's referral, as well as check on the patients that stayed overnight at the children's medic clinic. She even considered staying with them overnight since she assumed Sasuke wouldn't be back any time soon; she honestly didn't know how long her teammate would be away. A couple of days? Weeks? She prayed it wasn't so. Sakura rose her chin and faced her work confidently. If she had any hope whatsoever of one day loving this man and having him love her in return, then she had better get used to this. Sasuke Uchiha would return eventually.

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