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octo-cutie · 3 years

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Bokuto Koutaro is an influence to many if not all young volleyball players including the son of Y/N, a single mother who tries her hardest to make ends meet while providing the perfect life for her son. When Bokuto offers to help her out at the request of her son, how else is it supposed to play out?

Chapter 8: Can I Sign Your Cast? - Hinata

TW: Angst, Kissing, Crying, female reader

The ride to the hospital was silent aside from Kaoru’s cries into Y/N’s shoulder and her kind and gentle words to him. Sugawara sat next to one of the EMT’s and stewed in silence. Amelié had never gone this far before and quite frankly this was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Sugawara knew just how timid Y/N could be especially after knowing her for some time now. They had met briefly back in highschool but since he was two years her senior he’d never really affiliated with her. He vaguely remembered that she had come to a volleyball match once to support her then boyfriend, Kaoru’s father, and that’s where he’d met her. Her sleazebag boyfriend hadn’t let her speak a word when he introduced her to Sugawara and the rest of the team which had struck a nerve then and still struck a nerve now.

When he’d seen her walk into his classroom, child in tow, he’d known inwardly that her ex-boyfriend was no longer in the picture. When Amelié stepped into the classroom with her oldest daughter and set her sights on mindlessly torturing Y/N, Sugawara knew that Y/N needed protection from her. He’d tried so very hard to keep an eye on both her and Kaoru and to keep them out of harm's way. But with no viable evidence against Amelié or her now husband there wasn’t much he could do to help.

Y/N had now started to hum softly to Kaoru who gave an occasional hiccup. Sugawara’s heart only fell farther. Y/N’s hand had several visible fractures in her hand and would likely need a brace. Though she was visibly shaken she still stood strong for her child.

The EMT’s pushed the doors to the ambulance open and prepared Y/N for her departure of the vehicle. She held Kaoru, who was now fast asleep, close to her chest the entire time and all Sugawara could do was follow her as the EMT’s barked information at the on-call nurses and Doctors. Sugawaa took Kaoru from Y/N’s hands at the request of the doctors and took him to a waiting room.

Sugawara looked at the small child in his arms and sighed thinking about the piece of information that Y/N had let slip to his officer friend.

‘She’s the wife of my child’s father’

‘Child’s father’

‘Wife’

‘My child’s father’

Those words, that phrase, rang out clearly in Sugawara’s mind. This was news to him. Even in a small town such as Miyagi the likelihood of this happening wasn’t uncommon to many of his students. Divorced and separation had become much more common but as far as Sugawara knew, Y/N was never married. Kaoru had always had an unnamed father but now because of this development, Sugawara knew exactly who his father was. It was no wonder Y/N refused to talk about him or even about her pregnancy and delivery of the sweet black haired child who was currently drooling on his shirt.

Nearly 25 minutes passed before Daichi walked out of the ER shaking his head and looking back at his notes. Based on what Y/N had said, and Sugawara’s testimony he technically had enough evidence to request the surveillance feed from the school’s classroom. However, because life doesn’t work that way, one of the other officers on the scene had just reported that the surveillance footage from the school was missing and that they were attempting to figure out where it went. Daichi fumed slightly at this report since this kind of incident was only probable in a made up story.

Y/N had been moved to another room where she was being evaluated for a cast. Sugawara and Daichi soon joined her with Kaoru nestled in his teacher's arms. Despite her frazzled look Y/N gave the two men a shaky smile accompanied by a wince as the nurse wrapped the gauze padding tightly around her hand.

“I swear at least three separate people asked if we were a couple with this one in my arms.” Suga said, trying to lighten the mood. Y/N would have laughed if the sliminess of the casting material against her hand wasn’t preoccupying her mind. The nurse who was helping looked at the two men in confusion.

“Are you not the parents?” She asked, earning a laugh from the two men and a slight chuckle from Y/N.

“No ma’am, I’m his teacher and you’re currently wrapping his mother’s hand.” Sugawara said as he placed Kaoru on the cushioned bench where he could fully lay down while Y/N was being evaluated.

“Oh! Forgive my ignorance!” The nurse said as she cut the last piece of material and draped it over Y/N’s wrist.

“Don’t worry about it. I-” Y/N groaned as the cast began to harden and squeezed her hand. The nurse smiled as she began to pack up the materials stating that the doctor would be in in just a moment to discharge her. Sugawara took a seat in the chair next to the gurney that Y/N was placed on and sent a small smile towards the woman who was examining her hand in the yellow cast material.

Daichi on the other hand put his hat back on his head and cleared his throat.

“Well I should get back to the station. I’ve got to write this report up and figure out what happened to the surveillance footage. L/N-san, if I could leave my phone number with you please don’t hesitate to call or text me if anything like this situation arises again.” Daichi said as he placed a folded piece of paper in Y/N’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you Officer Sawamura-san.” Y/N said, bowing her head sheepishly. Daichi nodded towards Sugawara and left the room just as the doctor walked in to examine Y/N’s hand one last time.

“Make sure you keep your cast dry and take care not to lift anything heavy or stick anything inside it. I’ll send your records over to your primary care physician and you should be able to remove it in a few weeks.” The doctor spoke matter of factly as he scribbled away on Y/N’s chart. “Do you drive?”

“No sir, I take the train primarily or walk.”

“Alright. If you have to drive anywhere, you’ll need to be driven instead since the cast will hinder your movements.”

Y/N nodded and awkwardly signed the release documents with her casted hand gently resting on the paper to balance out the shakiness of her hand. Looking over to Sugawara whose hands held his hand up while he bounced his knee in anxiousness.

“Suga-san, do you mind carrying Kaoru for me?” Y/N asked calmly as she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her sleeping son's face. Sugawara’s head shot up and he looked over towards her child then back at her with a quick nod.

“Sure. Do you want a ride home?” Sugawara asked as he stood up walking over to where Y/N sat on the hospital gurney. It was quiet in the room as Y/N stood up from the bed and Sugawara hoisted the child into his arms. The only sound that could be heard was the faint voice of a female worker on the intercom and the chatter of nurses and doctors to themselves and their patients. Neither adult spoke as they meandered through the parking lot towards Sugawara’s car that Officer Sawamura had parked in the Visitors Lot by another officer just an hour earlier.

Their ride home was mostly silent with the indigent pandering on the radio from some local news network that Sugawara usually had playing at low level frequencies. Y/N stared mostly out the window as Sugawara followed the directions on the GPS to her house. Sugawara looked over at the woman sitting in his passenger seat and instinctively he looked through the rearview mirror where Kaoru was propped up with a few pillows and a sleeping bag that was leftover from some boys' night in the woods from at least a year ago.

As Sugawara turned the last corner to Y/N’s house, he finally voiced his thoughts to her, pulling her attention from the window.

“Can I ask how you split from Kaoru’s father?” Sugawara asked in a very quiet voice as he put the car in park. Y/N let her chin drop to her chest as she thought about the question in relation to the events that had transpired.

“He left me for a life that wasn’t burdened by a child and a college dropout. He had plans and I didn’t. We had no money, no escape route. Just each other.” Y/N sniffled as she used her non injured and to wipe a tear that had fallen onto her cheek. “He was there with me for the delivery and the first thing he said to me when Kaoru was born was ‘I’m so proud of you. You’ve given me an irreplaceable gift.’”

Sugawara’s Adam's Apple bobbed uncomfortably as Y/N began to shake and curled up in the car seat.

“He spent the entire pregnancy there for me and gushed about how he couldn’t wait to be a father. He had dreams for himself and even though they weren’t going the way he wanted them too, I thought maybe I was included in these dreams and that maybe for once, I was enough for someone. That I was more than just an accidental pregnancy. But that changed when Kaoru turned two and he decided we weren’t enough for him. That we tied him down. And so he left.” Y/N choked as she covered her mouth with her cast to muffle her tears. Glancing back at her son Y/N looked up at the roof of the car, dabbing at her running mascara and wiping the tears off of her face.

Sugawara rummaged through his console looking for some stray napkins and started to dab them lightly on her cheeks.

“You know I think Kaoru knows just how much you sacrifice for him and all he wants to do is give back to you. And I think-” Sugawara grimaced slightly as he said this “I think he wrote a letter to Bokuto for a reason. You’re his mother, the only woman in his life and just like a superhero Bokuto is here to save the day.”

Y/N looked at Sugawara through crystal tears encouraging him to go on. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair and looked away from her focusing on a tiny patch of flowers in a flower pot rather than the pretty woman next to him. Despite the tears in her eyes and how they had rubbed her face raw he couldn’t see anything other than her underlying beauty that was always there.

“Kaoru sees the world through the eyes of a 6 year old because that's what he is. The world to him is filled with superheroes and damsels in distress. When your problems became apparent to him he used his superhero, in this case Bokuto, to save you. The one person he loves most.” Sugawara spoke softly looking across the way to Y/N who sniffed loudly, averting her eyes towards her apartment and wiping them with her sleeve.

Looking over towards Sugawara Y/N studied his hazel eyes filled with concern, sadness, and something… something else that was drawing her closer and closer to him over the console and eventually connecting their lips together in a shy kiss that became less so as Sugawara placed his hand on her cheek.

The two of them pulled away and stared into the eyes of the other as they took in the aftermath of their kiss. Sugawara could feel his heartbeat racing and a pit in his stomach forming as Y/N mumbled something about having to get Kaoru to bed and pulled herself and her child out of the car rushing up towards her apartment and out of Sugawara’s sights.

Sugawara swallowed the lump in his throat as he pulled the steering wheel sharply towards him and sped away from Y/N’s apartment, blinking back tears from his eyes.

Y/N ignored her thoughts for the rest of the week as she readied for Kaoru and her to travel to Tokyo for Bokuto’s game. She had Mina drop Kaoru off at school as she took more shifts to make up for the shifts that would be missed while Y/N was away. It occupied her mind and kept her from thinking about the fact that she’d kissed her son’s teacher.

The morning of their flight Y/N was rushing to get them to the airport. It was definitely a struggle to get Kaoru through security without him asking every question to the TSA agents and the security guards. They barely made it to their gate to board before the gate closed behind them. Despite the flight only being an hour Y/N wished she’d brought some more activities for her son.

One hour and a thirty minute nap for Kaoru, the two of them found themselves walking towards Bokuto who held a large sign with their names plastered in glitter and glue with a large beaming smile on his face. Kaoru broke out of Y/N’s hold on his hand and ran towards the excited man who swept him up in his arms.

“Hey there Kaoru!! I missed you guys so much!!” Bokuto said, swinging Kaoru around. Y/N’s heart rate evened out as she managed to catch up to the five of them. Now that Y/N was standing next to the beefy owl, she could now see that there were three other men waiting with Bokuto.

“Hey Bokuto! Thank you for coming to get us this was most definitely a surprise for us.” Y/N said as she brushed some hair out of her face with her injured hand. Bokuto laughed as he turned to face her and gasped in shock as he noticed the yellow cast holding onto Y/N’s injured hand.

“WHAT HAPPENED HERE?!” He hollered causing Y/N to wince and clutch her hand to her chest. She motioned for him to come closer.

“Oh um… I’ll tell you later.” Y/N whispered to him. Bokuto nodded slowly and shook the feeling of uneasiness out of his head.

“Oh OH! I gotta introduce you to my friends!” Bokuto exclaimed as he picked up Y/N’s luggage from the conveyor belt and motioned to the three other men around her and Kaoru.

Bokuto introduced his MSBY teammates who were on the starting lineup with him. Kaoru of course knew because of his incredible wealth of knowledge with the team but was news to Y/N. There was Sakusa Kiyoomi, the tallest of the four men with curly black hair, who wore a surgical mask and offered Y/N a large dose of hand sanitizer but refused to speak to her. An Atsumu Miya who offered her a play boy smirk and a drink at a bar sometime later that night to which she said no too. And finally there was a small ginger man who introduced himself as Hinata Shouyo who smiled so brightly Y/N had to step back slightly but still close enough to be engulfed in a hug by Hinata.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you for having us.” Y/N spoke as she bowed slightly before flicking her son in the head to follow suit.

“Don’t bow to us Y/N I tell you this all the time!” Bokuto said as they all piled into a taxi. Y/N giggled as she pulled Kaoru into her lap.

“Oh hey! Y/N can I sign your cast?!” Hinata asked excitedly to which Y/N nodded and allowed him to scrawl a message on her wrist before falling into a state of conversation with the rest of the men in the car.

If you'd like to learn more about what you can do to help single mothers/single fathers/single parents, look for opportunities at your local foodbank, homeless shelter, and after school care groups!

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Taglist: @sageshit @daddyissuesmademe @sabrinakishi @itsmiyamore @myhaikyuudump @romanoffs-heart @its-the-aerieljeane @heroesfan101 @anejuuuuoy @hops-hunny @hello0i @aiianovna @ucancallmeelena @pettyjayy @surhii @yazi-the-dragon @lanatheawesome @pansexualproblemchild

#fan mail!#fan mail taglist!#cute octopus writing #haikyuu!!#fluff #angst #haikyuu #bokuto x f!reader #bokuto x reader #sadness #sugawara koushi #lots of angst #single mother!reader #single mom!reader

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maplecornia · 3 years

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chapter 24

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.94K

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: things are getting heavyyy

If you're still enough, you can hear the inner whispers of your heart.

Have you noticed?

You're able to hear everything you have kept locked away. It tries to break through the cage, and you can feel the chains growing weaker and weaker with each passing moment. Each tick of the clock drawing closer and closer to the moment where you can no longer hold it in.

Where you finally break down.

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, the meeting room now empty and dark. It's hard to believe that at the break of day it was filled with conflict and torn decisions.

"I'm against it."

At the sound of Yoongi's sharp dismissal, it's as though the room wakes up. Some in protest, some in shock. Suga raises his brow at the reaction, almost scoffing when he sees it.

"It's too much of a risk." He sighs almost in contempt. "If you want her so badly, why not sign her with Source or Pledis? They're our shareholders for a reason. Plus, since we're all under HYBE it will be exactly like she were a BigHit affiliation. Given the way this industry runs, however, she's probably best out of Kpop and should be signed under HYBE America. After all, she is a foreigner."

Though they are harsh, his words make sense. This would be the most logical approach rather than breaking their ban on female trainees. They made the ban for a reason, Yoongi doesn't understand why they would throw that away for someone who is slightly talented.

Besides, what about every other talented girl before her?

What reason should she have to achieve the dream which they were denied?

"I have to agree with Yoongi," Jin speaks up, his brow furrowed in concentration. "She has a unique and beautiful voice, that much is true. It'd be a shame to let it go, but if you think about it, we wouldn't be letting it go. Giving it to another company under HYBE might provide a better chance for her in the industry."

Taehyung bites his lip, not liking where this is going.

Jin glances around the table, hesitating before he says his next piece.

"We just got back, can we trust that they'll accept us if we do this? Next thing you know there'll be rumors of a scandal."

Though it was all on their minds, it still hurts to hear it out loud.

Can they trust ARMY to be there for them this time?

"It is a bit concerning. She'll be the only female trainee in an all-male company. Can you imagine the rumors? The field day Dispatch would have? She'd be hated before she even had a chance to show them her worth." Jhope murmurs under his breath, his eyes sparkling with deep worry.

They've all faced that. The fear of being hated for just being you. For existing without the mask.

"But I liked her," Jimin says, leaning forward. Though his words are simple, they are said with the most sincerity. "She's someone you hardly ever see, her voice stays with you, it doesn't leave. It's the kind that people can't get enough of. That's something special...shouldn't we take that into account?"

Biting his inner cheek, Taehyung glances up at BangPD, wondering if he knows. Did Jungkook tell him? He knew about Yen, why wouldn't he have found out about him as well?

If only he hadn't saved that recording. If only he hadn't been so careless, then none of this would have happened.

Somehow he feels as though those moments are being stolen from him.

"Jimin has a point, Yoongi. Did you hear her?" Jin speaks up, his gaze glazing over as though he were looking into the distance. Or recalling a long forgotten memory. Yoongi scoffs and smirks bitterly.

"Of course I did, I have ears."

"Are you sure?" Jin mutters in response, but it's almost as though Yoongi can't hear him.

"Think of this realistically, you have to know there's zero to no chance of her making it. Even if she's talented." There's a moment of uncomfortable silence at his words, words which no one wanted themselves to say. Sighing, Suga gestures towards Namjoon.

"Come on, Joon back me up here."

The room turns to Namjoon, waiting to hear his response.

He stays silent for a moment, his hand resting on his chin as he ponders the situation, his deep eyes calculating moves and countermoves. Possible situation and solutions.

All while trying to forget that the possible trainee is Yen.

Biting his bottom lip, he can't help but remember the way she was in the studio. How her eyes lit up with unimaginable love and devotion. A look only a fellow artist would be able to recognize. She was made for this, he can tell. She yearns to sing, to be lost in music, enveloped in a world of her own making. To be able to share that with others.

Looking over at BangPD, he narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

"What are you planning to do?"

Yoongi's eyes widen at Namjoon’s question, and he leans back, looking to BangPD's response. Bang Sihyuk smiles softly, almost as though he expected this.

For some reason, that look irks Taehyung.

Don’t think you can control us. We weren’t made for your chessboard.

"It will be on a purely trial basis. I am planning to sign her as a trainee, but the public will not know about it until I am sure that she will be a good addition." He looks towards Suga, pointedly directing his next statement towards him. "I understand your concerns for her. After all, she would be our first female trainee for a while."

Suga bites his inner cheek in protest, leaning back in his chair and brooding.

"However, I have been planning this for a while now." The room goes silent with the revelation as they turn to him, waiting for him to reveal more. "Ever since you've left for the military, I've been thinking of possible trainees to recruit for a new girl group. The first girl group to be officially under BigHit entertainment. They would be managed, produced, and signed underneath our label. Not through a loophole like BE:LIFT, Source Music, or Pledis. This would be ours and ours alone."

Jimin shakes his head in confusion. "Why now? What changed?"

BangPD sighs, his careful eyes scanning the room in a calm and collected manner.

"I don't know entirely myself." He rubs his face before continuing, playing with the portfolio of Yen. "I thought it was time to expand our horizons, to try something new...I guess you could say I was inspired."

He glances towards Namjoon, and Joon can't help but remember that day all those years ago.

The day when BangPD proposed a plan, an inspiration to him, not quite unlike this one.

Namjoon’s brow furrowed in concentration, he turns to your smiling photo, still spread across the table.

Was it you?

Were you the reason for this inspiration?

"In any case, before I moved any further, I wanted to see if things would work out with her. One trainee. I didn't want to make a mistake like last time, hence the trial period." Bang Sihyuk continues, swaying a bit in his chair.

"Who would train her?" Taehyung mutters underneath his breath, unable to look away from your photo this whole time. Turning to BangPD, his eyes are aflame with conviction. "If we have our normal staff take part in her training, we won't be able to control who else could find out. If her existence were to be completely secret, who could we trust?"

It's a valid question, but Taehyung doesn't like the glint Sihyuk gets in his eyes at the notion. Silently, he wishes he never spoke up. Maybe then he would've been able to stay under the radar, and BangPD would never have to suspect he had any affiliation with the girl.

With Yen.

"You would."

Two words is all it takes.

Two words and the room is in an uproar.

"What are you talking about?! We have enough on our plate with our comeback, and now you expect us to train a girl who shouldn't even be here in the first place?!" Yoongi is so outraged that he stands, his chair rolling back into the wall.

"Yoongi, calm down--" RM begins, but Suga isn't willing to listen to anyone at the moment.

"Do you have any idea how much pressure we're under? And now you want to add an inexperienced trainee to our list of burdens just because she can sing?!" he snarls, his lip curling in disgust, his eyes dark with anger.

"Yoongi-hyung, you heard her voice. You have to admit that we found something here." Jungkook speaks up, meekly. Taehyung narrows his eyes his way.

Just what does Jungkook get out of all this? Taehyung knows he has to be the one who gave BangPD the file of your voice. He was the only other one there, besides Taehyung. Taehyung himself couldn’t bring himself to give you the flash drive, but Jungkook didn’t even think to tell you. He went straight to BangPD as though this were his decision to make. Did he even think of asking you what you thought?

What’s your angle?

Yoongi rolls his eyes, gesturing to the portfolio on the table.

"Yeah, we found something. But not something worth risking everything we built over!"

"Don't you think you're being a dramatic? We aren't even sure if this will work out. It's just a trial, and it's the best option for us to train them given the situation." Namjoon murmurs, rationally. Suga's eyes flame with defiance at the rebuttal and slams his hand on the table.

"And what happens if word gets out before we're ready?"

The room goes silent with the ultimatum, and they all avoid his gaze.

"What happens when we're the cause of her downfall?"

Glancing at each other, they ponder the question. A question that has weighed heavily on them ever since they debuted, ever since they became the star in the public's eye. Ever since the world knew about the boy group...

BTS.

Scowling, Yoongi pulls away.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't have time for this. I have work to do, work that has been waiting for us for 2 years! Or did you all forget our promise?" When they don't answer him, he scoffs, pulling his backpack on his shoulder and walking out the door. "I'll see you at practice."

There's a moment of silence as soon as Yoongi leaves, silence uncomfortable and pressing. Licking his lips in nervous anticipation, Hoseok looks at the rest of them, almost unsure.

"Is he going to be okay?"

BangPD leans forward, folding his hands on the table.

"Don't worry about Yoongi, I'll talk to him later. But what about the rest of you?"

His quick, analytical eyes scan the table, hovering over every one of them. Almost as if he were trying to predict what exactly they would say next.

"Do you agree?"

Now, Taehyung grits his teeth. His grip tightening around the water bottle he was playing with in his hands, he throws it across the wall. As he watches it crumble at the force, he finds the ruin in his mind easing. Water drips off of the wall, and he feels a sort of sadistic satisfaction at the sight of destruction.

Now he’s not the only one broken.

But once that fades, he's left once more with his memories and his regret.

"Dammit." He groans, dropping his face in his hands hopelessly.

Standing, Tae grabs Jungkook by the hand before he can follow the rest of them out. The door shuts behind them, leaving only him and Jungkook in the meeting room, an uneasy silence hanging over them. With words they need to say, questions waiting to be answered.

"Taeh--" Jungkook begins, but in his rush, Tae interrupts him.

"Were you there?"

The silence that blossoms between them grows to a deafening roar as Jungkook gently pulls away from Taehyung's firm hold. It creates a bitter but necessary distance between the two of them. It lets them know that they're different, that what happened back then was something that belonged to one as much as it did the other.

"You heard her too, didn't you?" Jungkook murmurs, his words turning Taehyung's blood cold. Smiling softly, Jungkook runs his hands through his hair. "I saw you as you were leaving, you were the one who recorded her, aren't you?"

Biting his bottom lip, Tae can't answer. Even though he knows that moment wasn't his, even though he knows that his ideas of fate and chance have been destroyed, he's unable to admit to it. He can't find it in him to voice the fact that he was there, that he gave birth to her chance, and he wanted it to be his and his alone.

Jungkook chuckles nervously at the silence before speaking once more.

"I wonder...why didn't you have the same idea as me?"

His hands tangled up in the locks of his hair, Taehyung stares at the slick wooden table, his heart in knots and his mind jumbled.

"Why didn't I?" he mutters to himself, a soft whisper that lingers empty on the air. "Why couldn't I say anything?"

Pulling away from the table, where Yen's future was decided this morning, he swallows hard. By the end of the day, he found himself lingering around this room, the studio, anyplace that reminded him of her.

Laughing bitterly, he rubs his forehead.

"Why..." He whispers, holding his phone tightly to his chest.

"Why can't I forget you?"

Biting his bottom lip, he quickly messages you, having the sudden urge to see you. Maybe then, would he realize what he can't find? Would he be able to create another memory, another moment in time? One that was yours and yours alone?

After a couple of moments, you don't answer.

Maybe...I was just afraid of letting go.

Standing almost decisively, he rushes out of the room, and down the hallways of the building.

I need to know.

As he rides the same elevator you rode yesterday down to the lobby, he holds his phone tighter in his hand.

If I don't find out now, I may never get another chance.

Desperate, he sends another message to you.

One more time.

Catching his face in the metallic walls of the elevator, he can't help but imagine yours smiling up at him. A face that makes everything seem alright again.

That's all I need.

What happens when that is taken away from him? What happens when he can no longer see the person who gives him courage? Biting his lip, he can feel the pain in his chest grow.

Just let me see you one more time.

He doesn't want to let you go.

As the elevator dings and he steps out, he pauses, seeing Namjoon right in front of him. Namjoon glances up, his eyes glazed over and tired, but when he sees Tae, they widen in recognition. Taehyung smiles inwardly to himself, he knows this look. A look lost in the wilderness of creativity and desolation.

"Oh, Taehyung!" he says, and Taehyung nods to him curtly before brushing past him and continuing to the front door. Namjoon, however, catches him by the wrist and Tae pauses, turning around.

"Namjoon?" His face is blank, but something in his eyes tells Tae to be wary. They are sort of dark, not really there, but urgent and anxious. Taehyung wonders how eyes can hold so many words, and yet tell you nothing at all.

"You knew, didn't you?"

At his words, Tae blinks, his heart pounding.

"I..."

"That's why you followed her, how you knew about her injury."

How does he know?

"When were you going to tell me?"

Biting his bottom lip, Taehyung can't help but feel a bit of aggravation towards his older friend. Why can't he keep anything to himself? Why is it a crime for him to live his own life, without everyone looking in? Yanking his arm out of Namjoon's grip, he scowls, turning on his heel.

"When it became your business."

Namjoon stands there, a bit in shock before rushing forward and taking Tae forcibly by the arm once more.

"Taehyung, wait!" At his touch, Tae tries to pull away, but Namjoon won't budge, his eyes desperate and wild. They unnerve Taehyung, make him want to escape, hide away until everything turns back to normal again. "If she's going to become an idol, any affiliation you have with her will only hurt her."

Tae's eyes widen at his words, snapping a hidden string he didn't know he had inside of him. RM doesn't notice, instead, his grip tightens around Tae until he feels as though he's suffocating from the inside out.

"You know that right?"

Gritting his teeth, Tae pulls away from Namjoon, staggering back until he's a good distance away. Raising his eyes to his hyung, Namjoon finds a look he's never seen in his younger friend before.

Loathing.

"Don't act as though you know everything." He spits before turning away and walking out of the door.

Namjoon sighs as he watches him leave before glancing over at the now empty lobby. The lobby where just a day ago, he met a sweet, cheerful girl. Someone who filled his mind with inspiration and wonder.

Smiling sadly, he rubs the back of his neck, looking up at the sky as though that will offer him the answers he seeks.

"Just who are you, Yen?"

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: this one was actually pretty hard to write, i'm ngl ;-;

chapter 25 here

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nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Inferno-

Warnings: public sex, insinuated break-up, cheating (kind of), fingering, oral (f. receiving), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie, Master!kink, degradation, humiliation, size kink, light dacryphilia.

Wc: 3k+

Note: (@chanonymous told me this Minho gives off Black Widow vibes- and I just had to write another superhero!au. Minho’s alias in this is Black Widow, but he isn’t really affiliated to or similar to the Marvel Black Widow in any way. Y/n’s alias is DragonClaw, and she’s a dragon-shapeshifter with pyrokinesis. I know this is the second Y/n I’ve written with pyrokinesis- I’m sorry, I just love fire hhh-)

Why?

Why did the universe hate you so fucking much?

It was torture enough being one of only two female superheroes at this year’s Annual Gala. It didn’t help that said female superhero was The Peacock, aka insufferable, bitchy diva- who was currently on the stage, that melodious, lilting voice of hers flooding through the speakers. You watched as the men around you fawned over her, listening eagerly as she regaled everyone with yet another one of her self-centred tales. 94% made up, you were sure of that.

“There’s no way she’d be able to beat up 50 gangsters with her powers.”

And there it was. His voice. Him. The real reason for your anger and frustration tonight.

You carefully ignored him, hating the way he was seated right next to you at the table. How did this happen? There were currently 50 tables in the venue, more than enough to accommodate every superhero in the state. But of course, your rotten luck had landed you right next to him.

“I just don’t understand. Isn’t her power looking pretty, or something like that?”

You gritted your teeth, still not looking at him. However, the awkwardness of his unanswered question lingering in the air became too much to bear.

“It’s Allure. Her power is Allure.”

“Meaning?”

You rolled your eyes, answering reluctantly.

“Supernatural beauty that can be used to manipulate, distract and hypnotize.”

‘So...basically, looking pretty. Huh. That’s a cool superpower, being so beautiful that people can’t help but do what you say.”

You stayed silent, your eyes observing the seated audience, all of them absolutely enamoured by the beauty on stage. You’d entertained him enough.

“I think you’re prettier, though.”

That was it. You whipped your head around to face him, breath slightly hitching in your throat as your eyes met his. “Shut up.” You hissed. “Stop trying to talk to me.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking.

“You know why. I don’t like you. That’s why.”

“Come on, Y/n. No one here knows about our...history.”

You glanced around, putting a finger up to your lips. “Why don’t you scream my real name a little louder? I don’t think the Grand Master heard you.”

“Look, just because you used to be a supervillain once doesn’t mean you still are so-”

You were sure he was doing this on purpose. You quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, shooting a look of apology to the dude opposite you, who turned to look. As soon as the man turned away, you glared at him.

“Look, Minho.” You seethed, your voice dripping with venom. “I’m not the only one with dirty secrets here. If you don’t shut up, I’ll stand up right now, and tell everyone who really caused that wildfire in California.”

“It wasn’t my fault-”

“Yeah, right.”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes as he grabbed your hand, wrenching it away from his mouth.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been saying sorry ever since that day. Although I’m not the only one who should be apologizing, and you know it just as well as I do.”

You turned away from him, choosing to ignore him once again. The pain was still fresh, the emotions still raw. You remember how devastated you’d been that night, how you’d wanted to murder everyone in sight. Instead...you turned a new leaf, and chose to reinvent yourself as a superhero. Usually, tragic incidents and heartbreak lead to the birth of a supervillain- in your case, it was the opposite. You’d felt so miserable and dejected that you became good.

And the man sitting next to you was the cause of it all. The fact that he had the audacity to sit there and flirt- especially knowing everything that happened between the two of you? It made you want to bury him six feet deep.

You fiddled with the spoon on the table. “How...how is she?”

“Who?”

“You know, her. Your girlfriend.”

“...girlfriend?”

“Spitfire.”

“Oh. Her. Um, she’s fine.”

Minho was lying. He hadn’t seen Jiwon- Spitfire, since that fateful night. Somehow, though, the lie had come out before he could stop it.

He watched you nod slightly, your face still turned away from him.

Fuck, why did I do that? What was I expecting? That she’d be jealous? That she’d beg me to leave Jiwon? That she’d fall at my feet and ask me to take her back? Stupid.

Minho shook his head, closing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and tried to focus on the woman speaking. But..he just couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting to you. He wished he could take the mask covering half your face off..wished he could see your beautiful eyes staring into his again.

Wished he could kiss you just one more time...

***

The next few minutes passed by in silence. You were about ready to walk up on stage and strangle the woman, droning on and on. She seemed to go off on tangents constantly, the story growing longer and longer until you just couldn’t take it anymore.

The rest of the audience clearly didn’t share your views, their gazes filled with adoration and wonder. Well...everyone except...

You turned to Minho. He seemed to be lost in thought, his stare fixed on the blank wall.

“Hey? Earth to Minho?”

He snapped out of his reverie, turning to look at you. His eyes widened as he realized you were talking to him.

“Shh. Black Widow.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s a silly alias.”

“Like Dragonclaw is much better.”

“Hey! Dragonclaw is a very cool alias.”

Minho rolled his eyes as you shoved his arm playfully, your heart growing a little lighter.

Okay. Just...forget about the past. Talk to him, even if it’s only to keep yourself from dying of boredom...

And so you did. The two of you started talking. He moved his chair closer to yours, telling you what he’d been up to for the past three years, discreetly whispering.

“Okay, okay. Enough about the missions, tell me more about Spitfire! What’s she like?”

“S-she’s...cool. Very...fiery.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and smiling. “Do you have a thing for superheroes with pyrokinesis or something?”

“Uh...yeah, I guess you could say that.” He winked, noting how your face turned a light shade of pink. Hmm...

“Though...she’s nothing, compared to you. You were really...hot, especially in bed.”

You sneered at him. “That was a bad pun. Seriously, you could do better than that.”

“Oh, what a burn.”

You cringed, pressing your lips together. “Never mind, this was a bad idea. Even listening to Peacock’s speech is more bearable than this...”

“No, wait- I’m worth your time, I promise.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Maybe it was the way you puffed your lips out, or maybe it was your challenging tone...either way, Minho couldn’t help it. Before he even realized what he was doing, his hand was on your thigh.

Your eyes widened a little. “W-what are you doing?” You stuttered.

Courage, Minho. “I know of a way we can get rid of the boredom...”

“You do? And w-what might that be?” You swallowed, feeling a slight streak of arousal shoot through you, despite his minimal touch.

Minho’s confidence grew as he observed your flustered demeanor. His hand slowly crept up your thigh, a delightful smirk spreading across his face as you bit your lip, your sudden shyness turning him on. He leaned in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Do you want this, kitten? Tell me to stop before it’s too late...”

You shuddered as he called you that pet name. He hadn’t called you that in years...

Minho took your silence as a yes, his fingers creeping up higher until it reached your zipper. He slowly pulled it down all the way, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

His hand slipped into your pants. Your breath hitched as his fingers reached your clothed clit, the pad of his finger running over it.

“How does that feel, kitten?”

You struggled to speak as he started rubbing you in circular motions. “It f-feels...good...” You choked out.

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.”

You heard a clatter as a fork fell to the floor. You twisted your head, Minho shrugging. “Oops. I dropped my fork...”

Your eyes widened as Minho slipped off his chair, crawling under the table. Looking around frantically, you realized that no one had heard the loud noise, Peacock’s glamour still captivating them- they were essentially zombies.

Honestly. Did she not know how to turn the sexiness off, at least to be professional-

Your line of thought was interrupted as you felt Minho pulling down your pants, down to your ankles. Oh, right.

So much for professionalism.

You felt him spread your thighs apart, fitting himself between them. A few seconds passed before his breath ghosted over your clit, his fingers coming up to rub you through your panties.

You clutched the edge of the table, sweat forming on your forehead as his fingers slid aside your underwear. He ran two digits through your soaked folds, humming to himself. “Still as wet and pretty as ever...”

You shifted slightly in your seat, eyes darting here and there. This was so risky. Your eyes went up to Peacock, your brain unable to comprehend her incessant chatter as Minho pressed a kiss to your clit, his fingers circling your entrance.

You let out a soft whimper, leaning back against the seat as he pulled you forward a little. Placing your palm over your mouth, you muffled your moans as he wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth.

He let out an appreciative moan at your taste, pushing a finger into your drenched pussy and trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. Minho could barely believe that this was actually happening- he wanted to pinch himself, but both his hands were currently occupied. One was busy gripping your thigh, the other drawing little moans from you as his fingers went deeper.

“Fuck...you taste so good...” He mumbled against your pussy, tongue coming out to lap at your folds. You could do nothing but groan helplessly, his mouth alternating between sucking on your clit and licking at your pussy, fingers fucking you through it all.

Your legs shook as you realized you were about to cum. You pressed your hand over your mouth, trying your best to not let out any sounds. You felt your high build up- flames of pleasure sparking at you...until it was all gone.

You frowned as Minho pulled away from you, confusion filling you as he tugged on your leg. Quickly looking around you, you bent down to lift the tablecloth and make eye contact with him.

“Come down here.”

“W-what? P-people will definitely noti-”

“That wasn’t a question, it was an order. Do as I say, or you’ll regret it, kitten.”

You whimpered softly, your heart beating faster as you lowered yourself to the floor. Minho quickly pulled you under the table, adjusting the tablecloth behind you before turning to you.

Smirking at you, he palmed himself, eyes watching you hungrily as he crawled over you.

“Minho...this is a bad idea. I’m already on thin enough ice as it is-”

“Shh...” He traced his finger over your chin, down to your zipper, slowly pulling it down. He licked his lips as your chest was exposed slowly, leaning down to nibble at your ear.

You stared up at him with glassy eyes, throwing your head back as Minho’s lips made his way to your neck, sucking on your skin hard enough to leave a hickey.

“M-Min...”

“Hmm?” He breathed against your neck, his fingers pulling the zipper all the way to your navel, staring at your bare skin.

“Please...”

“Please, what?”

“I w-want...you...”

He chuckled. “I thought you were scared. Superheroes should be brave, you know?”

You frowned up at him, his infuriating smirk making you want to slap it off his face. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

He frowns. “That’s no way to talk to your Master.”

“M-master?”

He nodded, mouthing at your chest and wrapping his lips around your soft nipple, sucking gently.

“Looks like you need to be taught a lesson, my little slut...you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

You opened your eyes as you felt the head of his cock against your pussy, moaning softly. Minho stared down at you, jaw clenched. He couldn’t wait a second more.

His hand made his way to the back of your head, gripping your mask, breathing hard. “Can I?”

You sighed, nodding. “Yeah, please...just...need you in me.”

He slowly took your mask off, tossing it to the side as his eyes took in your face fully, breath hitching in his throat. You were just as beautiful as he remembered.

It was too much to handle. Eyes still fixed on yours, Minho steadily pushed his cock into your pussy. He groaned as he felt your walls hugging his length tightly, going deeper until his tip hit your cervix.

“You’re so fucking tight...how are you even taking this big cock?”

He growled, clutching your waist as he moved you up and down on his cock. You moaned, his solid girth filling you up perfectly. You felt weak, shivering as Minho started thrusting slowly, loving the little whimpers falling off your tongue.

“You’re so...so big...”

“I know. And you’re too small, so easily ruined.”

“Please. F-faster-”

“If I go any faster, I might destroy this tiny pussy.”

You whine, slinging your arms around his neck, an innocent expression on your face as you pouted at him. “Please, Master? Want to be...s-stretched out by you, want my pussy ruined...”

He stared down at you with dilated pupils, a low groan in the back of his throat as this new side of you came out.

“You’re driving me insane...” Minho sped up his pace, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder as his hips met yours with each thrust. “What a little whore, so needy for cock that she’d let herself get fucked under the table in a room full of hundreds of people...”

You felt the humiliation rise in you as his hands stayed on your waist, firmly pounding into you. “You like being a little sex toy for Master? Like being used as his personal cock sleeve?”

You nodded desperately, swallowing as Minho chuckled, one of his hands coming up to grope at your breast, thumb stroking your nipple slowly.

“Well, I love fucking this little pussy open-” He cut himself off with a groan as you clenched around him, spurring him on and making him go harder.

He shifted a little bit, causing his dick to hit your sweet spot dead-on, drawing a long whine out of you.

“Shh, kitten, you don’t want anyone else knowing what’s going on under here, right?”

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Minho grunted, leaning down, face hovering over yours. You held his gaze for a few minutes, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Minho was the first to break. He leaned in and softly pressed his lips to yours, a sharp contrast to the harshness of his cock plunging deeply into you. He deepened the kiss, tongue meeting yours as he held your cheek. The kiss quickly became messy, as his hips went faster.

“M-master, ‘m gonna cum...” You mumbled against his lips. Minho pulled away, his eyes turning darker as he observed the tiny teardrops gathering in your eyes.

“Aww, is my cock making the little baby cry?”

You whimpered, the tears spilling past as you squirmed, hating the way he’d stopped thrusting.

“P-please, wanna cum...please! Want Master’s cum filling me up...”

“Fuck, I’ll give what you want, fucking slut.”

His eyes moved over your tear-streaked face, groaning as he lifted your leg up over his shoulder, enabling him to go deeper into you. He began fucking into you, his pace ruthless as he worked towards making you cum, his other hand coming down to rub your clit.

You arched your back as you felt your orgasm approaching, your hands tugging at his hair and making you moan.

He pecked your lips. “Cum, baby...cum for me.”

You whined, unable to hold it anymore as he pinched your clit. The white-hot pleasure made you cry out, Minho groaning as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you. The overstimulation slowly set in as he fucked you harder.

“Fuck-”

His hips stuttered as he chased his own high, cock twitching inside you. A few thrusts later, he came with a groan, spilling his seed inside you.

You watched Minho, moaning softly at the feeling of his cum pooling deep in your core. His chest heaved as he panted, collapsing on top of you. You hummed, your grip in his hair loosening as he lifted himself off you slightly, eyes searching yours.

“How did that feel?”

“F-felt so good...” You paused suddenly as a thought hit you, now that the pleasure had worn off.

“Wait...Minho...you just ch-cheated on-”

Minho sighed, rolling his eyes.”I didn’t, Y/n. I was lying. I haven’t seen her since that night. Trust me...cheating’s something I’ll never do again.” He whispered, thumb stroking over your wet cheeks.

You looked up at him, filled with emotions that were familiar, yet also new.

“Give me another chance, Y/n. Please.”

You thought about it, sighing as you nodded. “Okay...but we’re going to take things slow.”

He let out a small laugh, eyes drifting to the spot where you two were connected. “Bit late for that.”

He pulled out slowly, watching as his cum seeped out of your entrance. He used his fingers to part your pussy lips, groaning softly under his breath at the sight of your stuffed pussy.

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed through the speakers, startling you. You hadn’t even realized that Peacock had stopped talking.

“And for the next speech, Dragonclaw! Come up onstage, and share with us your report from the last few months.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you sat up, half-naked and filled with cum.

Minho smirked at you. “Go on, then.”

#minho smut #lee know smut #skz smut #minho fluff #minho angst #lee know angst #lee know fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids angst #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years

Text

Inner Demons

Ten minutes after midnight, Zihang felt the sudden rise in Carli’s chest that signaled another nightmare. It stirred him out of sleep and he woke up, already cradling her out of instinct, one arm curling about her shoulders under the blanket. He still hadn’t fully awakened but he could feel her pulse under his hand.

Her body suddenly jolted and she whimpered. Fully awake now, Zihang sat up slightly. Her hand was over her mouth.

“You alright?”

“I bit my tongue.”

“You were probably grinding your teeth…” Zihang only obliquely referred to her frequent nightmares, eager to help her move her mind away from them. “Let me see.”

She looked at him with a surprised innocence and then stuck out her tongue.

“It’s still there.”

She let out a whistling laugh. “Don’t tease me when I’m just awake. It’s not fair.” She turned away, bashful.

“Do you want some warm milk?” He asked, kissing the back of her shoulder.

“Yes please.” She flipped the covers over her face.

He poked her ribs through the blanket just to hear her giggle. Once he was certain she wasn’t overly upset, he walked away. Still, he called from the kitchen. “Soy or Almond?”

“Almond!”

“Do you want cinnamon with it this time?”

“...yes.”

“...one spoon of sugar?”

“...Yes!”

Her voice sounded alright. It was a promising sign. When she’d returned from her island project, she was exhausted for three days, not getting out of bed. A sneak peek at her arm revealed a very light scarring through her tropical-sun tanned skin where needles had been inserted, likely to draw her own blood.

Her blood had special properties to suppress instability in hybrids, but the effects were temporary, at most, lasting two weeks. It was likely that she was making frequent draws and banking them.

She was giving so much of herself.

This thought filled his head as he watched the timer on the microwave countdown. Caring for her like this gave him scant comfort. Her energy was back. They had returned to their morning workouts, their training, their routine. At first, this warmed him inside to new levels. He truly had missed her. But the deeper he dove into the familiar, the more he found himself in strange waters.

Despite all their trauma, these nightmares weren’t as frequent before. Carli would find herself lost in thought more often, forgetful, and, worst of all, self condemnatory. She apologized more. She needed more reassurance that he was not angry when there was never going to be any situation that he could ever feel angry with her.

The microwave beeped and he opened it up and checked the heat. It was true that she had left him for an extended period, but he had coped. Her apology wasn’t what he wanted.

What he wanted, he wasn’t sure he could ask of her.

He returned to her room with the milk. She was sitting up, on her phone, but quickly put it away when he entered the room. “Is Ru’Yi alright?”

“How did you know that was her?” She watched him move around the bed. “She’s on some school vacation. Apparently a cruise.”

“Where?”

“She didn’t say. Only she was accompanied mostly by ‘neato Africans.’” Carli said, making airquotes. She accepted the milk with a quiet thanks.

He sat down next to her, dressed in nothing but a pair of blue boxers. She leaned against him and he rested one hand around her waist. “She really has grown up well. You did a good job.”

“I did half a good job, Zihang. Team effort.” She elbowed him slightly.

“It wasn’t really effort. I enjoyed it. Very much.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction.

“You’re a good dad.” She said, mentally lost in some memory. She tilted her head up at him. “We should visit her when she gets back. I’m sure they’ll let us back on campus.”

He hadn’t told her about his infiltration of the campus without authorization. Hopefully, it wasn’t recorded. “Probably.”

“What do you mean probably?” She put the cup back on the side table and shuffled back beneath the blankets. “You got some sort of record?”

“Not as far as I know.” He reached over to tuck her in. He then kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay…” She whispered. “Love you.”

“Love you.” He turned out the light.

He closed the door behind him as he left and grabbed his phone from the hall charger. Then, he made his way to Ru’Yi’s old room.

She’d taken many of her belongings with her. Her laptop was no longer on the desk and her favorite pillows and blankets were gone. The night stand and many of her clothes that were in it were missing. Indentations were left in the carpet where they had been.

Zihang leaned against the doorway, letting the thoughts run their course. No matter how good of a father Carli thought he was, he couldn’t help but regret that he’d stumbled out of the gate. Carli never blamed him for his supernatural banishment for Ru’Yi’s first few months of life, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d missed her birth, missed holding her. Her earliest childhood photos was her in the arms of another man.

Zihang wanted another chance. Would Carli allow him that? He had asked before, and her response was that it was just too dangerous. Now though, she had a breakthrough for her treatment for the over concentration of dragonblood. Was it too early to ask?

If her reaction to asking about her first child - a dull, deeply painful silence - was any clue for the answer to that question, that answer was yes. Zihang had not followed her into the red well. He’d fought his hardest to install high powered explosives to stop an influx of dead waiters into Japan. He’d blacked out, completely exhausted.

When he woke up, he found out that Carli had been horrifically injured. Lu Mingfei and Gen Chisei weren’t much better off. Everyone else that had entered that well had died. For days, Carli experienced uncontrollable bouts of crying. That’s when he’d learned about her inability to save her child. As a comfort, he offered to adopt him as his own and have a little funeral ceremony for him.

There was no body buried underneath that headstone behind Norton Hall. Just a few baby clothes, a pacifier and toys he would never get to enjoy. Along with that, they buried a note that said, “Mommy and Daddy loved you.”

Carli spent her pregnancy with Ru’Yi in terror that something similar might happen to her. She would lie awake at night, tormented by the memory of her over threshold child and projecting that onto scenarios about the future.

Recalling these things, Zihang felt that he was selfish every time he desired a son.

He looked down at his phone. Perhaps if he could figure out a little bit more about what happened, he could overcome this foolish desire of his. Carli had left him an important clue.

He scrolled down to a blank number on his phone, one only he would recognize, and dialed it. It rang once, twice, a third time. Then it picked up. There was such a long silence on the other end that Zihang started to wonder if he’d been disconnected, but then a deep voice answered him. “What happened?”

Zihang was caught a bit off guard. Was it foolish of him to call for such a petty reason? He had no reason to believe that Chisei would be happy to hear from him. They weren't particularly close. “Is this a bad time?”

“I’m assuming you were calling about your wife. I can’t imagine any other reason you’d want to talk to me.”

“Not even about the swords?”

A pause. “Okay that’s another reason…”

“But this is about Carli. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I wanted to know what happened in the Red Well.”

“She hasn’t told you?” Surprise colored his voice.

“No. It’s too painful for her. If I ask her about it, she shuts down.”

“Even after all this time…” He wondered outloud.

“You’re not subject to the rules of the Executive Department any longer as well.” Zihang added.

“I swore to non-disclosure, but because it’s you, and you’re no longer affiliated with Cassell’s Enforcement Division, I’ll make an exception. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know specifically about what happened to her child.”

“Some things are better off unknown. You saw how she reacted to the events. Your knowing what happened will affect you needlessly.”

“I have suffered enough loss to last a dozen lifetimes. I can tell you from experience that not knowing is far worse than knowing," Zihang replied.

Chisei kept a thoughtful moment of silence and then sighed deeply. “While I organize my thoughts, why don’t you tell me what you know about the child?"

Zihang tilted his head slightly. Was he hesitating? Chisei’s personality was not robotic or unfeeling. He just pushed those emotions aside. Hearing that he needed to organize his thoughts reminded him of Carli’s reaction. Her mind would immediately jump to the worst of her ordeal.

“He is of the genetic material harvested from her under duress by the Comemnus Corporation. Herzog bought it in an auction. Her egg was combined with another man’s sperm in an effort to make someone who could turn into a full-blooded dragon. Albeit a weak one. That man was initially assumed to be you, but could have also been your brother.”

“It was my brother. He was Chime’s son.”

Zihang was silent, letting that knowledge sink in. “Does Chime know?”

“No. And you’re not to tell him. It would just give him yet another reason to hate me.”

Zihang privately thought that Chime would be just as angry such knowledge was kept from him. “He was in the Red Well to harvest the White King leech?”

“By the time I arrived, the baby had already been given dragonblood and converted into a monster. There was no way to rescue him from the start. But Carli couldn’t control her maternal instincts. When I tried to kill the baby, she fought me with all her strength. The wounds I received were inflicted by her. Not Herzog. Thanks to her interference, Herzog was able to get the upper hand.”

“He pinned her to the ground with my sword through her. He drained the child’s blood right in front of her eyes... while she screamed at him.” He paused. “That’s all I remember.”

Zihang leaned against the wall, the phone held to his ear, finally understanding why she was rendered so speechless, the heart ache, the nightmares, the deep and unrelenting grief. “How did… how did she escape?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is the child’s body still down there?”

“Even if it was, what would you do with it?”

“We didn’t have a body to bury. She seemed very heartbroken about that. I want to help her.”

Chisei laughed softly. “Closure, huh?”

“If not closure… I can at least grant her a means to move forward.”

“That’s not something you can grant Zihang. When I agreed to assist her in ending the inherent cruelty when it comes to handling hybrids like her child, I thought she meant the human experimentation required to get someone overthreshold. This need for greater and greater purity, pushing that threshold between human and dragon, is what creates these people in the first place. Treatments were an attractive option as well, but I never really bought into it. A cure for the madness that turns them into a Dragon’s servant would cause the opposite effect -- The deliberate creation of hybrid monsters with the sole purpose of using them as weapons.”

The tension rose even as his voice lowered in a growl. “You know what happened in Japan, how threatened Tokyo was when Erii got out from under Hydra supervision. Can you imagine a world filled with monsters like her? But Carli didn’t listen to me, because I had no other solution than death for them. She thought she could do better. She’d made her mind up. If you want to help her move forward, help her let go of that fantasy.”

Zihang felt himself growing colder and colder inside at these words. The hope of ever having a second child grew more remote.

“That’s all I want to say about it. I hope you call me again with a more pleasant subject.”

Zihang found his voice. “Thank you. I will think on your words.”

“You’re a logical person, Zihang. Clear eyed. I’m sure you’ll be able to succeed where I failed. I understand her feelings, but I can’t tolerate them. Not on something as crucial as this. She wasn’t born or raised as a hybrid. And, if I’m to understand correctly, neither were you. You’re better able to sympathize with her without losing sight of the truth. I hope you get her to understand. If she succeeds… I can’t imagine what she’ll unleash on to this world.”

---

In the Atlantic, on the opposite side of the churning clouds that signaled the awakening dragon, another vessel bobbed in the waves. It was much smaller than the Aido-Hwedo Aircraft carrier and it’s presence was lost in the massive radar noise caused by the dragon’s stirring. The anomaly had grown to hurricane size but unlike a hurricane, it was completely immobile. The waves it was kicking up tilted and tossed the boat like a bath toy, but it stayed afloat.

Tom had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over as he made his way to the mess, that is, the kitchen. He didn’t know anything about nautical terms, but he was learning bit by bit, coached by Ms. Sakatoku and Zero who were captaining the ship.

He heard a sound, a single foot fall on the metal step. He whirled but she was already on him, like an attacking shadow with terrifying eyes, blue irises with red pupils in a face that was completely black as though covered in ink. She hit him like a battering ram, slamming him into the metal wall of the ship.

He closed his hands around her neck and held her teeth away from his face. Her hot breath hit him, she was so close. He could scarcely breathe for fear. He pushed upward with arms made powerful by hours of flight time until she fell all the way back slamming her head to the floor.

Her claws flashed by his neck and he ducked away but they caught his collarbone and dug in. He scrambled off her, bleeding down his torn shirt.

She didn’t attack again. She turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Tom trembling.

Appetite gone, he stumbled back up to the deck, whimpering and bleeding, casting nervous eyes behind him. She must have been waiting for him on the stairs to come down to breakfast. “Mr. Lu! Mr. Lu! Cadance attacked me again!”

Despite the morning light, the skies above were as dark as early evening. Mr. Lu was standing on the deck in a long trench coat, staring out over the water. Tom’s nose caught the scent of tobacco. A curl of smoke rose up from a cigar in his mouth. Tom paused. He’d never seen Mr. Lu smoking before. Mr. Lu shook his head slowly. “Attack her back. She only does it because she knows she can get away with it. You don’t see her attacking Kasio...”

When Tom didn’t answer, he faced him fully. “You’re still suppressing it. That’s good in a way but in the end, unless you embrace that side of you, you’re just going to die.”

Tom lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to the people who will mourn you when you’re gone.”

Tom lifted his head in shock. Mingfei Lu’s tone was warm but his words were like a winter wind.

Mingfei made no attempt to comfort him or even check on his injury. He merely stood there, watching him with copper colored eyes. “Let me tell you a story, about when I first got onto Cassell grounds.” He tapped his ashes over the railing of the boat. “I was completely overwhelmed. They had just opened up the Day of Liberty and all around me was gun fire. Everywhere a bullet hit a person, they would fall, stained with red, just like a dead man. I thought the people around me were dying. I laid down, hoping to pretend to be among the dead.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t fool one person… the person I was in love with. She stood over me, recognized me, smiled at me. I thought I was saved. And then…” He simulated with his hands, a gunshot. “She was taken out.”

“But she was still alive right…?”

“Yeah but I didn’t know that!” The amber in his eyes faded but then came back with glowing brilliance. “I burned inside. I thought they’d killed the only person I… Even now.” Mingfei’s chest rose and fell.

“I took the gun from her and killed the person who had shot her. Then I turned it on the two people in front of me. Caesar Gattuso and Chu Zihang, the top students in all of Cassell College and presidents of the most prestigious clubs. Caesar I didn’t know, so I shot him first. Zihang…” He paused briefly. “He recognized me, called my name. Even though he was stronger than me, faster than me… even though he knew I was the weakest of the weak in high school and he had faced down the strongest in Cassell and beyond. He met eyes with mine, he dropped his weapon and surrendered, even though he knew my weapon was fake. Why do you think that is?”

Tom stood quietly.

Lu Mingfei puffed his cigar. “I shot him anyway. The past didn’t matter, the future didn’t matter.” He turned back to the waves and leaned against the rail. “Carli… Carli… you can’t sleep and it’s making me upset.” He muttered.

Tom wondered if perhaps Lu Mingfei was losing his mind. Tom’s concern certainly wasn’t pressing at the moment. “Alright.”

“When you get breakfast, be sure to bring some to Kasio as well. Ask Zero where he is on the ship. Probably in one of the maintenance crawls.”

#Class of 2032 #Dragon Raja

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tosikoarts · 4 years

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SFW Alphabet | Shiraishi Yoshitake

Long live the King! You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Relationship for Shiraishi is more about friendship with intimacy than a long tradition-based order of courtship and conventions. His affection does not manifest in standard gestures like buying flowers or singing serenades, acting all gentlemanly and saving the day pompously like a romantic novel protagonist. If he ever does anything from list above, it is his daydreaming that he doesn’t try to bring to life.

One of Shiraishi’s main goal in the relationship is to keep his partner happy, and the main sign that they are happy is their shrill laughter. It doesn’t matter if they are laughing because stray toothy animal bit his head or because the joke was funny (yay!), mission accomplished and he is satisfied. Seeing them cry is worse than being hit hundred times with a baton.

Every single soul in the one kilometer radius know whom Shiraishi loves and why he loves them and how amazing, adorable, lovely, cool they are. Sugimoto and Asirpa are making earplugs because Shiraishi can’t shut the hell up. He managed to piss off the men who kidnapped him with bragging about his loved one. Kiroranke puts maximum effort not to bury him in the nearest snowdrift. His admiration doesn’t die down through years.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

The best friend to get dumb with. Sing inappropriate songs, prank others, annoy boring elders and all this jazz. His jokes are never offensive because Shiraishi wants to have good time only but they are unpredictable and never repetitive. His instinct of self-preservation goes m.i.a. in the process so it’s literally life-saving to have a reliable person by the side.

If you need a friend to gossip with Shiraishi is you best choice. He got hot tea on everyone, I mean e v e r y o n e, from old man Hijikata to naïve Koito and he needs best friend to spill it. Damn, Shiraishi is definitely that bih with neon acrylics and golden hoops.

Probably the friend that introduce you to people and brings you into new circles. Wide range of characters, social statuses, affiliations gives a chance to meet potential partners. There is one unspoken rule though: you come here as Shiraishi’s bff, you leave this place as Shiraishi’s bff.

Speaking of which, he comes across as possessive friend. Restriction of other’s social circle and constant need in validation aren’t his behavior traits, but Shiraishi is sensitive to subtle changes in communication. Sole possibility of losing the established connection gives him extreme anxiety. To avoid it he can make concessions and sacrifice his own interests for them.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Eeh, indifferent? He doesn’t seem like a big fan of cuddling but will do it on occasions. When lights are down and they are in a private of the room, Shiraishi may spoon them to feel the comfort of another person and a little bit of safety he finds in their touch. He doesn’t have a preferred position as well: whatever his loved one wants he will do without hesitation.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The closest home equivalent that Shiraishi knows is a dark prison cell and this is how he sees the stability in its best light. Yep, same food every day, funny inadequacies behind the adjacent wall, and a guy in not-so-sexy uniform who checks his asshole now and then. What a paradise. Seriously, he needs time to get used to concept of comfort zone. Maybe, after few years Shiraishi himself will offer to find a cozy place for both of them. Average cook. Doesn’t know how to hold a broom.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Breaking up with Shiraishi is a whole three-ring circus because he is hot and then cold, yes and then no. Get ready to prepare sad clown look for both you and him because it will be a long story: as soon as the idea settles in his head, Shiraishi will turn into giant wreck. Everybody around notices him walking in circles as well as asking Sugimoto how to properly show person that he is not interested. Of course, he ignores rational “just tell them, set a record straight”. Of course, Shiraishi plays dumb and tries to distance himself in all ways possible and impossible. The only way to end this agony is to break the relationship yourself before the mutual sympathy and respect turn into disgust and tension.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Doesn’t experience a burning passion to get married but doesn’t completely discards this possibility either. If person seems to be the only one, the meant one, Shiraishi will pop a question after 3-4 years of stable relationship. Cruel push and pull game, sudden break ups and get backs together kill his will to settle down. He may stay with them but Shiraishi will never bring up thought of marriage, wedding bells, and family.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Even the prison could not knock softness out of Shiraishi: he is utterly gentle with his partner, dreading hurting them or jeopardize their life with the hunt of tattooed skins. Choosing the right words is a little more complicated so translation of an emotional mess in his head does not always convey implied sentiment. That’s the reason why Shiraishi may be unintentionally harsh when it comes to serious conversations: he is torn between being tender and showing firm character.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Somehow, loves hugs but rarely initiate them. He is almost always cold, his skin feels cold and rough like papyrus paper, therefore, his partner frequently serves as a living heater. When they are busy with work or chores, Shiraishi catches their hand and embraces their arm, practically immobilizing it. Hints fly left and right when Shiraishi wants a hug: he really comes to the partner with puppy eyes and index finger pointing towards one another because no, he won’t go for it himself, he want his loved one to do it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Mentally, he already did it when they met for first time but it takes at least a month for Shiraishi to say three magic words aloud. Two would be even better. He's not serious enough to wait for the friendly phase of a romantic relationship when people have already got used to each other. The longer the relationship lasts, the more serious Shiraishi gets though. You can hear it in the changing of his voice when his playful “I love you so so much” shifts to calm and earnest confession.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Easily jealoused walking disaster that will follow his partner like a poodle if they give him a reason to doubt their faithfulness. Sometimes Shiraishi overreacts, he even thought Sugimoto was looking at his loved one somehow weirdly but quickly brushed this idea off just for it to come back to him next day. Shiraishi gets extremely needy and tries to show everybody that this is HIS person. He is NOT sharing. They love ME. He gives them extra kisses, hugs, grabs their hand and squeezes it few times, smiles at them as much as he physically can.

If his loved one is the one being overly flirtatious, Shiraishi feels awful. Wave of insecurity knocks him off the feet and he doesn’t know what to do. He is overthinker so without proper explanation Shiraishi comes up with the worst scenarios possible. In this case he distance himself until person reassures him in their relationship.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

In the beginning, Shiraishi seems the worst kisser in the world. He has little experience, almost no experience to be honest: yujo do not have time to teach clients the art of kissing. So, yeah, he is pretty average, goofy, sloppy and eager. Wants to kiss everywhere anyhow.

After a little bit of training his kisses become more sophisticated, and Shiraishi himself doesn’t try to jump on his partner with smooches. He is still impatient when they put their hands on him and tends to get touchy even in public places. When Shiraishi gets in the mood for kissing session, he is unstoppable.

There is a sweet spot right under the earlobe kissing which send Shiraishi on the cloud nine. One kiss and he surrounds to the will of the partner. Ask whatever you want. Besides that he doesn’t care where to be kissed. Likes to give his partner gentle pecks on the nose and cheeks.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

If you remember chart going around the Tumblr with categories like “wine aunt, great at babysitting, mediocre at babysitting” Shiraishi would fall both in “God is dead, house is on fire” and “Is a baby”. Kids absolutely love him because they are on the same level *cough cough* and he is overall funny guy unlike the most adults around. Shiraishi likes active games and never sits still. For every crying child he got a candy and few tricks in his sleeve. He would love to be a father one day so he has few more minions to annoy grumpy people.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

People who sleep in together stay together. This is the rule of Yoshitake house. No matter what time his partner wakes up Shiraishi wakes up later. Nine in the morning? He is in the bed until noon. Three in the afternoon? He is still sleeping, squeezing his partner tightly in his arms. Even after waking up Shiraishi stays under the blanket. He playfully asks the loved one if they want to keep him company and cuddle too but if they are in hurry, he will lazily crawl out of bed and cook something for them.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Prefers to spend night outside gambling or drinking, skinny-dipping, lying in the grass and telling fables with varying percentage of truth. In the cold season Shiraishi still likes to go downtown but mainly to meet old friends and have dinner with them and his loved one. Rarely he chooses to stay in the comfort of home. Shiraishi teaches his partner different board games, and soon playing turns into a competition. From time to time Shiraishi loses on purpose, gifting sweet victory in shogi/igo/karuta to the most significant person in his life.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You don’t have to ask anything unless you want to spend next hour listening to Shiraishi’s biography. He will tell you about the relationship with parents, about childhood scar on the knee, about search of Sister Miyazawa, and what a bastards his cellmates were. The list is endless, and every day Shiraishi remembers one more story he forgot to tell. There are only two things that can stop him: firm “no, not now, Shiraishi” from the partner and lack of mutual openness on their part.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It is impossible to piss Shiraishi off. His ability to reduce everything to a joke does not help only in advanced cases where person wanted to break his neck from the beginning. Even when his patience runs out, Shiraishi cannot explode in anger, he just grimaces, stomps, and spits sarcasm. In everyday life, he avoids conflicts as much as possible and does everything to find a convenient compromise so you won’t catch him slipping. He would rather go for a walk and leave another person to cool down than get involved in heated argument.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn’t remember shit if his partner doesn’t indicate that it is important information. Worth remembering. Shiraishi, please, listen. At the same time he notices slight changes in their appearance, from new haircut to ring, and keeps in mind such details like eye color, favorite clothes, maybe, particular qualities like never buttoning shirt up completely or writing notes on the wrist. Anniversaries? Baby, he doesn’t remember what day it is today. Just give up.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first kiss. Not only did it happen completely by accident due to a bet, but it was so awkward and unexpected that Shiraishi forgot how kissing works. Yep, he froze feeling their warm lips on his, only eyebrows slightly raised up in disbelief. After this incident, Shiraishi could not stop thinking about them. God, he is disgrace, to embarrass yourself in front of the person you like. It could not be otherwise. To remedy the situation, Shiraishi pulled himself together, remembered the cheesiest lines in the reserve, and suggested to try again because he was astonished by their daring attitude. He has no idea what happened after that but that spontaneous kiss with a touch of childishness and innocence stayed with him forever.

Oh, one more moment! Meeting them after coming back from Karafuto. Honestly, Shiraishi didn’t believe he will make it out alive. Ogata or Kiroranke could slice his throat, hide the body, and tell Asirpa he left with his tail between his legs. Therefore, it is miracle to see their adorable face again.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Let’s be real, he is the one who needs protection. He also needs some ass-whooping for getting in troubles regularly too but that is not the point. Shiraishi rarely stands up against obviously strong opponents and chooses famous Joestar backup plan – run for his life with loved one under his arm. Another option includes involvement of threatening allies, mostly Sugimoto, to save them both. Sometimes courage overwhelms him, and Shiraishi comes up with risky but bold plan how to save them without outside help but it happens much less often.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Most of the time, Shiraishi hopes that everything will be fine by itself, every event will run like clockwork without excessive effort. Dates are unpretentious: no fancy restaurants, exquisite gifts, long intricate confessions of endless love, etc. To his credit, Shiraishi takes chores more or less seriously and does his best. For the anniversaries he transforms in person you've never seen before: dressed immaculately Shiraishi holds a small bouquet of bright moss phlox and box of sweet sakuramochis, his face glows with happiness and love, however, you can sense a nervousness behind the wide smile. On days so special, he is afraid to ruin the mood with usual tomfoolery.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Canonically, Shiraishi is not the tidiest person around. For some it may be stumbling block because constant battle with desire to throw him in hot springs and scrub ingrained dirt with the hardest sponge can be too tiresome. Also Shiraishi bites his nails until they bleed as well as pulls the hangnails until his fingers start to hurt.

A sense of proportion leaves Shiraishi as soon as a bottle of sake appears on the horizon. Even though he is funny and harmless drinker, he goes overboard with alcohol to end up throwing out behind the nearest pine.

Little lies always slip through the conversation no matter what it is about. When the truth is revealed, it is too late to blame him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Shiraishi doesn’t care about his appearance but likes to get compliments on it. He knows bunch of tricks how to remove different stains from clothes in the wild and doesn't know how to avoid them. One look is enough for Shiraishi: he could wear his old prison uniform for life time because it is strangely comfortable and universal for any event. Except the pursuit by guards, of course.

Has mixed feelings about his tattoos. Living with them is to sit on a powder keg: you never know when the new man with the gold rush will try to scalp you alive.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Gets very, very attached to the friends and loved ones so break up feels like punch in the gut. Unlike the rest, Shiraishi basically refuses to let go. He gets clingy, keeps acting like nothing happened, like they are still the best friends, just to cover up growing emptiness inside. No matter how hard he ignores it, Shiraishi can feel how part of him fades. Sometimes even abrupt refusal doesn’t work, but it’s simply his way to deal with sadness. After few weeks, he has an insight that things will never be the same and that when it hits him. Shiraishi tries to distance himself and it takes all of his strength since by this time he becomes easily distracted, irritated, and whiny. He needs months to get over it.

If they died or were killed, Shiraishi puts effort to maintain his clown image. Only closest people can notice small detail that give away his sorrow and melancholy. Doesn't attempt to get revenge. The time to recover increases to year.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Do you think Shiraishi went to jail so often because of negligence? Partially, yes. Besides the fact Shiraishi is being hopeless fool, he finds prison cell a great place to take a break from fleeting life. If you think about it time slows down behind bars. There’s no point to worry what tomorrow will bring, how to survive and make it through another scuffle, and his impressive skills guarantee him easy escape.

Shiraishi has joint hypermobility syndrome which helps him bend joints at unusual angles and even pull bones out of the fossae. Prolonged arthralgia is a side effect that Shiraishi had to deal with from the first conscious days. There are days when the pain becomes so excruciating that he just wants to lie still and stare at the sky for 24 hours.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Continuous scolding when there is a reason and when there is not. Yes, with his behavior it is difficult to resist the urge to say a couple of strong words or raise your voice, and Shiraishi is totally okay with it until rebuke becomes daily tradition.

Shiraishi's thoughts are always in motion, usually Brownian motion, his body twitches even when he tries to sit calmly in one place so stagnation in any form would be the death of him. This includes repetitive thoughts, boring behavior, and general passivity.

Shiraishi is genuinely upset if his partner doesn't like children. This is an inexplicable feeling, he really hurts if they ignore little ones or, worse, openly express dislike for kids.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Prepare yourself to unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, you will have a lot of them. Shiraishi keeps running from guardians of the law even in his sleep: he kicks, turns, throws his arms out to the sides for the most part of the night. Accidental elbow blow to the nose is not uncommon either. Worst of all, he does not wake up after that!

In the morning Shiraishi likes to sneak closer to his loved one and just presses him onto them. Like, completely. He throws his leg over them, hugs them, presses his cheek to their back, and if it feels just right in winter, in summer such cuddle can be a real test.

Abrupt sleep schedule changes do not bother Shiraishi at all. His organism is so adapted to the crazy lifestyle that he stays fresh even after sleepless night, after waking up at 3 a.m. and going to bed at 3 p.m.

#golden kamuy #shiraishi yoshitake #yoshitake shiraishi #golden kamuy headcanon #golden kamuy imagine #tosikowrites

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thewanderer-000 · 3 years

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Letting Go...

Tagged by @mrspaigeomega

I'm not tagging anyone because I'm taking too long to get these out and I feel like I'm bothering y'all. But mostly, I feel like I'm bothering everyone.

(Note: recently edited, 18+. Language, comfort, physical(may cause triggers), angsty. Normally, I don't write like this but the story got away with me. And new FC5 OC Penelope Thompson)

______________________

The evening set in, Jacob felt it, he didn't have to see a sunset to know evening was there. Jacob sat at his desk, blank stare at the paper work on his desk, it was another episode where he felt overtly anxious with his crowded mind. And some people of his past sat in the shadows, too bad they didn't stay in the past. Jacob especially didn't want to see remnants of Miller, and his parents as he stayed up too late. Or have them popping up like his chosen in the halls, or like her.

Deputy Penelope "Nelly" Thompson, who Jacob unfortunately was practically pried off of in a isolated incident, she struggled to breathe and failed to break his hold around her neck. After, Jacob couldn't really look at Nelly, he remembered why he did what he did. Matters were worse since he left a highly visible bruise on Penelopes neck, resistance members kept her away from Jacob. And he thought it best, Jacob wanted to block out everything as he walked away. He left quickly so as Nelly wasn't trying to follow him, or anyone else as he looked upon his hands.

It's not like Jacob would go back to choking the light from her, the incident was a giant sign no matter what, the things from his past would haunt and torture him. That he would finally let himself sink low, constantly the villain. Maybe the sinners were right, and he was just like what they painted him as, no matter what he affiliated. Regardless of what Joseph said, Jacob knew that this may be how he does himself in. Then wondering if he would snap again but who would be the unfortunate soul in his grasp next. The tormentors of his past won't stop popping up around him, and how he hated them. He was sorry, and regretted everything wrong he'd done, but it wasn't ever enough suffering, ever. These walls now felt smaller.

He didn't mean to do that, not to her, especially after the truce of peace in his bunker with the resistance members and civilians. On top of that Jacob appointed Nelly as their leader, she's supposed to be a Lieutenant. Here he almost snuffed her out unintentionally, somehow the peace was still here. More than likely everyone was afraid of him, really afraid.

Jacob obsessed, the Miller in his mind just wouldn't leave him alone, then when Miller touched him, Jacob lunged at the his former brother in arms who taunted him. If Miller wouldn't understand that Jacob wanted nothing to do with him, Jacob was going to have to deal with him. The Miller that haunted him did this a lot when it seemed like Jacob was doing good. He'd push and push til Jacob finally pushed back. This time Jacob had Miller tight in his hands as he tried to get away, soon Jacob's parents were trying to free Miller from Jacob's hold. It almost always played out the same way, Jacob attacks but Miller, then Miller is gone, long gone. And Jacob was left with the mess and try to explain himself, how was he to know.

The voices yelling didn't match his parents, Jacob didn't care as he threw a fist at them, but more of his father tried restraining him. Before Jacob knew it, a hand grabbed a fist full of his shirt then his father hit him. Bringing him back to reality. In the silence Jacob's chosen created space between him and Nelly, Jacob looked over at her as some of the resistance came rushing to her aid. Jacob was about to go to her as well, but one of his men prevented him. The feeling in his hands had Jacob realize it wasn't Miller but Penelope, he couldn't stay there, so he left to exercise himself to exhaustion. The hallway felt small before, but now it was almost claustrophobic, he was going to need space.

No one bothered him too much in the following weeks, though they still checked on both Jacob and Penelope. Jacob being monitored for any hallucinations, orders from the only doctor they had, wasn't much but the doctor did his best. Though, enough of the mental health stuff came from the Veterans Center, and tips from Veterans that joined Eden's Gate came in handy. The resistance kept Nelly away from Jacob, he wasn't ready to face her yet. Jacob made that a direct order. One of the women of his Gate informed Jacob that Nelly was fine, but that she still wanted to see him. Jacob said "out of the question", but that he was sorry for what happened, he didn't mean for it to happen. That was the only reply, even though Nelly asked every time she was around the Peggies that came to check on her.

-----------------------------

'Nelly asked for me many times, I knew it was a matter of time till she would come. But the pictures in her medical report, I couldn't make it possible, I can't help what's wrong with me. All the scarred are left with is coping, and sometimes I'm not sure what is going on there. I can only push on, lead as best I can, and hope that at the end of this I'll see my brothers.

Penelope Thompson, Penelope was the only one I wasn't prepared for'.

Before her was Deputy Lyric Cain Haig, a problematic figure in my recent past and now, and now I have Deputy Penelope Thompson, I martyred me. I was gone, and explaining it to Penelope, would she see this mess I hide within myself. I'm constantly fighting me, that is something she didn't need to see, nobody needed to see it. But, would I start to see her here in my hallucinations as well, after a long while maybe I would. I had a few random people come to me in my head, I anticipated this, the most I could ever do is to ride it out. Some brought out the worst in me, my one regret is Penelope suffered one with me, and she's so damn insistent about seeing me.

"Does she just go for shit that is not good for her? Considering she came here, I suppose so", 'Penelope is like that disruptive, incessant Deputy Haig deep down. Though, I think back on those nights when Penelope was in here with me, holding me in her arms, or me holding her in my arms'.

"I can't fucking focus tonight", I get up from my desk to go sit on my bed, 'maybe I'll go to bed or something'. I look at my bed envisioning Penelope and myself, I sigh, because that's not making things better. 'Forget going to bed, I'll head to the gymnasium and work out, but who am I kidding, that wouldn't help. I'm feeling something I don't want to feel, I think I'll get to the gym, fuck waiting for these apparitions to fuck off. I swear this bunker has intensified something's, or maybe it was the bliss. Whatever it's bullshit, that's what it is'.

I change into my sweats, and grab some trainers before heading out. Walking the bunkers halls I hear everyone enjoying the close quarters and each other's company. The single men's and women's quarters are full of laughter. Then some of the married couples are kinda the same, an argument here and there, nothing serious. I started to wonder how Nelly was, from everyone in the bunker, I could only imagine she is well.

'Her soft smile with a bit of a dreamy look as she giggles, her dark brown eyes smiling. That stern look her eyes make when she's confused, concentrating or training. Her full lips, and that face she makes, the one that pokes her lips out even more-'. I quickly approached the gym so as not to keep thinking about Nelly.

Once I enter the gymnasium I go run laps, do a bit weightlifting after laps, push ups, sit ups, and a little circuit training to finish. I'd stay longer but I feel an audience peering at me, and I just didn't want to be someone's form of entertainment or judgment. Being under a human's gaze is different than an apparition, I know mostly what the apparitions are thinking. Human gazes made me uncomfortable now.

I never understood how Lyric could just go with the flow with that sort of thing, but maybe she was used to it. She was one of the top soliders in Marine Corps., I made it back to my room thinking of sister Lyric. I don't know why, 'the little sister I never wanted', much like Faith but I think she's deadlier. Then I wonder if I'd need all of these files after it all, I imagine not if we're all to build on a new world. I walk around my room reading all the files, but the sweat on my clothes was starting to bother me. I undress, tossing my soiled clothing into the laundry basket, leaving my sweat pants on.

At some point of reading files, I fell asleep. I woke hours later, I didn't dream which is great, my dreams only seemed to turn into nightmares. Or take me back to an old reality, but before I could left myself sink, I get off my bed to shower. Refreshing as ever, I welcome the hot water and scrub myself clean, afterwards I looked myself in the mirror thinking about getting rid of the beard. 'Nah, I still like it'. Towel around my waist comes off as I dress, I look at the time and I'm up super early, again. 'And it's fucking Sunday, so nothing is happening, or- fuck'. My door opened and quickly closed as I looked at the calendar, I turn to see Penelope, still by the door.

"Jacob, we need to talk" she stood there looking anywhere that wasn't my face, something was on her mind and she wasn't going to let it go. I wanted to go to her and touch her, have her wrapped in my arms once more but I don't dare. The look on my face fades, knowing that I really fucked up what could have been. Shes afraid and I'm the reason why, and I can't help her.

"Yeah, we should, Penelope. You want to sit down?" I ask, unsure if I should have asked that, but she sits on my bed. I register where she sat but wondered if she's ok with me next to her. I take a shot at sitting next to her and she's stayed, so I assume it's fine enough. She doesn't flinch or move away, but then she looks at me and we just look at each other.

"Jacob, are you ok?" I'm surprised, I couldn't respond to that, 'I suppose, I shouldn't be surprised, she's always been that was since we've been in the bunker'.

"Me? I know I'm not, but you-" I reach out to point at "it", my marks on her neck. She makes a face like what the hell then she sits up unzipping her hoodie to let me see. Not what I wanted but she seems ok, I'm not trusting that facade though. I gently touch, feeling the bruises, my eyes tracing as my hands are.

"Fuck, Penelope. How are you here? I'm surprised that you decided to come near me at all, babe.. Maybe this isn't good, may-" she pulled away before I could finish that sentence, she's gonna be a horses ass now. I exasperated this, or I'm yet to do so.

"Jacob! You've been through the wringer and each time we've been sleeping together you-" Penelope stopped and sat better and took a breath, she had point. 'Though, I didn't know I talked about others in my sleep'.

"You mentioned Miller, and during the incident you mentioned him, again. I just-" I couldn't help but stop her, I didn't want this to consume her.

"I know we talked about your boys, your family and I've been enamored with you, and especially that new years kiss. But Miller is my problem and I don't want that part of me consuming you, because it's only going to end badly. I care about you too much to let it get you like it's got me" I felt like I broke my heart, I'd rather not kid myself and cut her loose before things get worse. I felt like I did when I was homeless but worse because I wanted her, and a future with her and her family.

"Jacob" she said pulling me to her, I was weak and went to her, just once more I wanted to feel her kiss, once more feel her in my hands. And feel her holding me before I severed our bond.

#Jacob Seed #Far Cry 5 #Fanfic #Fan Fiction #writing #short story #Letting Go...#Lyric Cain Haig #Penelope Thompson #Far Cry 5 OC #Far Cry 5 OCs #Far Cry 5 Deputy #18+#triggers #physical #comfort

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katsukari · 4 years

Text

Falling Chapter 1/Prologue- No Time To Die

~akari aizawa, niece of japanese pro Eraserhead, is a sixteen year old pro in the US via an accelerated program. things have not gone to plan, and she finds herself in a toxic work environment. when her contract comes up, so does a better offer. now all she has to do is make it through her last week of work at the office, right?

pairing: bakugou x akari aizawa (oc)

word count: 3.1k

genre: for this chapter, angst

warnings: swearing (i’m pretty sure??), fighting, so violence, and i think that’s it for ch.1.

Alright, so this is the first chapter of my fic Falling. I posted about any interest earlier, but if you guys don’t know my writing style or anything about the story, how can you be interested? So, I figured I’d post this to give people a feel for the situation. I will say, there are no BNHA characters in this chapter, so I will probably post ch.2 tonight as well so you guys get a feel for them too! This chapter was just to give some background into Akari’s character and situation!

Akari Aizawa

Hero Name: Nocturne

Age: 16

Quirk: Heightened Senses- In the dark, her senses of smell, hearing, and touch are amplified, allowing her greater speed and strength.

Affiliation: US Pro through an accelerated program.

Birthday: 11/18

Height: 165.1 cm

Likes: Sweets

The mission had not gone to plan, and as it always seemed to be, Akari was the one paying for it. Her face remained respectfully blank as her supervisor yelled at her, while her partner stood by, failing to mention that it was his mistake that had caused the corner of the building to collapse, harming more civilians. It had been this way for months. Any and all mistakes were hers, and the person who once meant so much to her was cold and distant. At first she would fight back, if you could consider telling the truth fighting, but her words fell on deaf ears. It became clear, her higher-ups had an agenda, and she was not a part of it. Thats why, last month, when her contract came up for negotiations, she decided to go elsewhere.

She had to get out, and that is where her mind dwelled as she half listened to her lecture. Her parents told her she wasn’t the same, she was quiet, far off, she struggled to get up and go to work every day. It was difficult to motivate oneself to go where they were certain they weren’t wanted, by anyone, even people once considered friends. When she wasn’t distant, she was irritable, or one wrong interaction away from a breakdown, it wasn’t healthy.

A hand suddenly grabbed her by the hair, “I asked are you listening Nocturne? When I ask a question I expect an answer!” the hero barked, jostling her. This sudden action startled her companion, Shadow. He opened his mouth to say something, but Akari saw him close it and look away.

Knowing she only had a week left at the agency gave her courage, that or she was just pissed off. Grabbing the wrist of her captor she dug a nail between its veins and tendons, and dug hard, forcing the hand gripping her hair to come free. “I was not listening.” Her voice was chilly in contrast to the fire that blazed in her stomach. “Nor will I listen to anything else you have to say to me, so if you wish to keep talking to two people who aren’t listening to you, be my guest.”

The hero glared at her, “Fine, you are dismi-” But Akari hadn’t waited for his dismissal. She was halfway to the locker-room when someone caught her by the elbow. “What was that back there?!” Shadow demanded. “You could have gotten written up, striking a superior, insubordination, that’s not like you.”

Suddenly the fire within her spiked, “I’m glad you care all of the sudden! Where have you been the past hour and a half? Or the past six months, as a matter of fact!”

“I- I don’t have any excuses. But your contract came up last month, they could choose not to keep you here,” he said softly.

“It’s not a matter of whether or not they want to keep me. I had a better offer come up. I’m not staying here one second longer than I have to.”

“But your lawyers will be caught up in releasing you for months- Wait you’re leaving?”

“That’s what I said.” Akari gently pulled her elbow from Shadow’s grasp and resumed her walk towards the locker-room. He hopped sidelong to catch up with her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “You know, I’m getting really tired of people touching me right now. Can’t you tell I just want to go home?”

“I’m sure- but where are you going? Where offered to take you that made them decide to let you go, because we both know they have iron grips on us accelerated kids. Who is it? It can’t be good.” For the first time in months, genuine concern was etched into his dark features. It was enough to make her heart wrench. Couldn’t she stay? Just for him? She could survive here, if only he looked at her with that much care all the time.

No. No she couldn’t, she couldn’t trust him, he hadn’t been there for her in months. Shadow, her partner, once her closest friend in the world, hadn’t spoken this much to her in ages. “Oh, it's nowhere where I’ll gather fame and notoriety, they made sure of that, I won’t draw much attention, but it's somewhere good. But I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone yet.”

“I know you have no reason to, but, you can trust me,” Shadow said, his voice low and comforting.

She was about to say something, but she never got to finish. There was a loud crash, and the building shook, driving heros, sidekicks and secretaries from their offices into the hallway. Over the PA system a voice called out “Shadow and Nocturne, you’re up…”

At least she could count on Shadow in the field.

Crouched behind a police car, Akari pulled her goggles over her eyes and gave Shadow the sign for good to go. They slipped into the second burning building they had been in that day, and began to gather people and shepherd them to safety. They worked quickly and quietly, helping civilians out of their apartments and to the safety of the street, they were fortunate that the building only had four floors, but they had found no trace of who or what caused the explosion inside. That was until Akari heard a struggle inside one of the apartments on the fourth floor.

She listened hard to make sure there was no one else left in the building, and she knew she and Shadow should make their exit soon, the building wasn’t safe, but she had to check this first. Waiting quietly by the door she signed to Shadow, “There’s a person in this apartment, sounds like they’re struggling to do something. I need you to back me up once everyone else is out.” He nodded, helping the last person down onto the fireman's ladder. Slipping through the shadows, he stood behind her, ready to go.

As quietly as she could, she eased the door open onto a man in a fireman’s mask, knelt over a safe stuffing a duffle bag full of cash. The explosion had been a diversion to cover up the robbery.

Glancing over her shoulder she jerked her head forward, and began to slip into the room, Shadow following close behind. Once she was past the door it slammed shut, alerting the crouched man to their presence. Akari almost turned her back on the man in the mask to see what shut the door, but thought better of it, Shadow had her back, he could handle whatever was there.

“This can end here. Leave the duffle bag and come with us and there won’t be any need to fight,” she bargained.

“Us? I’m afraid you’re mistaken, your friend left as soon as mine showed up.” the man in the mask rasped.

Before she could turn to check, something hard and sharp slammed into the tight muscles between her neck and shoulders, driving her to her knees. Bracing both hands on the floor in front of her, her head began to spin, her stomach cramped, and she broke out in a cold sweat.

Forcing herself to her feet she shoved her goggles around her neck to see what, or rather who, had forced her to the ground. A tower of a man stood next to the mask, he had to be over six and a half feet tall, well muscled, and dressed for a fight with thick soled combat boots, leather gloves and a belt laden with a number of things that Akari couldn’t recognize. In one large hand he carried a small pouch that he tossed in the air, before fastening it to his belt. Pulling her goggles back up, Akari braced herself, ready for anything.

When the police asked her how the fight started, she couldn’t remember, just that she found herself staggering around the burning apartment, blocking and trading blows with the tower man. The man in the mask tried to slip through the door, and stumbling, slipping between full and normal strength, she landed a kick to the jaw, sending him crumbling to the ground. The tower man then sent her head first into the wall. Using it as a support Akari sent herself barreling at the man, raining punches at different strengths. When one of his blows knocked her off balance she twisted her leg to ground herself, then brought a leg up and out, hitting his stomach, pulling it out of the way before he emptied his dinner onto the ground.

This made him angry, Akari told the police, only later realizing how dense she sounded. The tower man lunged at her, lowering his center of gravity, allowing Akari to bring an elbow down hard on the back of his neck, sending him down into his mess. Sprawled in vomit, the man growled and stood, wiping his hands on the clean parts of his shirt.

The lull in activity had not been good for Akari. Her head was spinning faster now, making it difficult to focus and keep her senses from being overwhelmed. The sounds and smells from outside began to creep into her mind, mingling with the crackle of fire and crumbling walls and the acidic smell of bile that affronted her nose. The tower man slammed into her, she hadn’t heard him move, and she went through the door. Standing over her he waited for her to get back up, but she didn’t. He left her, unconscious, among the burning rubble.

She woke up, she didn’t know how long after, and it felt like her skin was crawling. Lifting her goggles so she could see was the only way she could get out, but her eyes never focused. She clutched one burned arm with a bruised hand and stumbled over to the windows, there was an open one, she knew it, but the windows wouldn’t stay put. The last thing she remembered was the sound of shattering glass and the sound of someone screaming “There she is! Quick, someone catch her!”

XXXX

Akari knew where she was based on smell alone, cleaners, disinfectants, and rubber. But there is also the smell of lavender and vanilla, her mother's perfume and citrus and sandalwood, her father's cologne. She was in the hospital.

Opening her eyes was harder than she thought it would be, they were dry and heavy, and sleep seemed to seal them shut, but after squeezing them once or twice she was able to force the lids apart. Looking first at her arms she found they were covered in bandages, down to her wrists, and there was an IV in her hand. Shakily she reached for her glasses sitting on the nightstand so she could see the rest of the room.

“Oh! Takashi, look, she’s awake,” her mother said, elbowing her sleeping father. “How are you feeling dear?”

“Terrible. My head aches, and everything hurts.” Akari sat up, feeling her muscles protest every move she made.

“I’ll go get the nurse.” Amara placed a warm hand over her daughters and stood, making her way out into the hallway. She returned a few moments later with a young man named Nathan who changed out her IV fluids, which unfortunately did not have something for her pain, and talked with her for a short while, then told her the doctor would be by soon. In the meantime he encouraged her to try and eat something, and take fluids on her own.

That was no problem, drinking at least, her mouth was stone dry. She was in the middle of the broth her parents ordered for her when the doctor entered and spoke to her about her injuries. A few cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, second degree burns on both arms and one leg, and she had stitches where the tower man first struck her. He had cut her with some sort of blade and left behind an implant that drugged her; the doctors had discovered it on her x-rays. They could have someone with a healing quirk do more for her once they were sure the drugs were out of her system the next day, “The cocktail he gave you was pretty nasty,” the doctor said. “We just want to make sure everything is all clear before we move forward with treatment.”

Akari just nodded, so long as she didn’t stay like this all week, she would be alright. The police were in next to get her story, apparently they caught the two men three blocks from the fire after she fell from the window. Shadow had identified them. She had to admit, that stung. He abandoned her, but stuck around to help make the arrest? Couldn’t he have run all the way away like a true coward would have? Or, at least like a coward without an agenda she thought bitterly. Though, bitter was hardly the word to describe the way Akari really felt about it. Betrayed, was more like it. In the office she knew he wouldn’t be there for her, but he had never, never left her like that before. What was worse was that they had faced worse foes than the tower man together before, but it had always been together. The last piece of Akari’s heart that held onto Shadow was broken.

She refused to see him, or anyone else from the agency while she was in the hospital. It hurt, every time he called asking to come up, but it would hurt more to see him. That was another two days. Then she had a day off, which she spent ignoring calls and texts from him, and sleeping. Akari from six months earlier would have rejoiced at seeing his name come up on the caller ID, but the Akari of now just watched as the screen faded to black. She couldn’t ignore him the next day though, she had to go back to work, at least for the next three days. After that she would be gone.

He was waiting for her outside the doors to the agency, scanning the crowds of people, searching for her face. Akari walked past him straight through the sliding doors. She didn’t have the energy to deal with him this early, it took her an hour of convincing just to get out of bed, using up most of the energy she did have. Flashing her badge to the desk she went through the second set of doors and into the office.

Turning left, towards the locker room, Shadow appeared in front of her. Looking at the floor she saw the shadows of the water jug and fake plants and sighed, dropping her shoulders. Shadow’s quirk allows him to travel through shadows, and become part of it, so he becomes invisible. It's very useful, but also very annoying.

“What do you want, Shadow?”

“I want to know how you’re doing, you didn’t let anyone see you while you were in the hospital.” There it was again. Concern. It made Akari uncomfortable, or, maybe upset, or both? Why was he concerned about her? He was the one who left her all by herself, if he hadn’t left maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe she wouldn’t have had to go to the hospital. Akari shook her head, maybe’s would get her nowhere.

“I’m fine, now, can I go change? We have to go patrol in fifteen minutes.” She brushed past him into the locker room.

It was a quiet day on the streets, so there was nothing exciting to keep them busy, just small talk with passers-by and silence. Not that Shadow didn’t try to fill it, but Akari had no desire to speak to him, and refused to fill the uncomfortable void between them.

When their patrol was over Akari was, for once, thankful for the paper-shuffling part of her job. It gave her an excuse to shut herself away in her small office and write up her uneventful morning report in peace. Once finished she began to catch up on the small mountain of paperwork that stared her down from the corner of her desk, all things she needed to finish before she left on Saturday. She had barely made a dent when a knock at her door drew her gaze upwards. It was Shadow. Of course it was, she thought tiredly, who else in this God-forsaken place would it be?

“What? I’m busy Shadow,” she sighed, looking back at the paper she had been reading.

“Too busy to take lunch with a friend?”

Akari desperately wanted to say “Maybe I will take lunch with a friend, when one shows up.” but she knew better, and hurting him wasn’t what she wanted to do. It just went to show how tired she was. She decided on a simple “Yes.” and left it at that.

Shadow took the hint.

Her last two days of work went similarly. Painfully boring and awkward patrol, paperwork, and then, to her surprise, on Friday, a going away party. Something the higher ups made sure to impress upon her that she would not be getting. It made her feel sick to her stomach. What was the point of this if none of them liked her anyway? Nina, a secretary, told her they only found out on Wednesday that she was leaving, and they didn’t even know where she was going. Something she still wasn’t able to tell them. She got cards, and to her surprise, her superiors gave her an upgraded costume. All too kind of a gesture from the people who drove her away, but she accepted it with a smile. Shadow gave her a music box with pictures of them around the sides; it played her favorite piano music. That was a sucker punch.

It filled her with guilt knowing that she fully intended on going to her new location with every fiber of her being geared towards forgetting everything about this place. But why should she feel guilty about wanting to forget people who have made her life such a misery? At least that’s what she told herself, but it never quite set right. The truth of it was that, despite the terrible time she was having now, the first year and a half at the agency was mostly good. She held many fond memories of her time there, and it made her feel even worse about leaving on such a sour note. But come the next morning that's exactly what she did.

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tinayoufatlarrdd · 5 years

Text

She

Frankly, they didn’t start on the best term.

He met Y/N during a photoshoot for a certain famous magazine. She was assigned to grace the cover of said magazine with the photograph of the world’s most it couple, Harry Styles and the supermodel who gained the universal acclaim for ‘taming the baby Mick Jagger’.

It was all fun and pretty until Y/N accidentally stepped on the girlfriend’s polished toes.

“For fuck’s sake!” Harry screamed at Y/N as the supermodel girlfriend suddenly started limping her way to Harry, asking for some sort of first aid.

Y/N couldn’t stop muttering sorry, offering ice blocks, even kneeling next to the supermodel girlfriend begging for forgiveness. The creative director, the crew, the editors—the whole studio apologized countless times for the tiny slip as the girlfriend pouted, complaining about the unbearable pain, causing Harry to hit the ceiling.

He yelled at Y/N and refused to go on. Y/N, knowing her inferior position in the equation, could only look down as the apologies continuously rolled out of her tongue. To be fair, everyone in the studio (except the lovebirds, obviously) knew it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Y/N was capturing Harry’s solo session while the girlfriend fixed the hair and makeup. She was up next for her solo session and then it’s a wrap. Of course the photographer would move around; every supermodel should be aware of the fact that angles were plenty and it took treads to actually find the right ones. Y/N was constantly moving, camera on hand, eyes on the viewfinder, then suddenly the ‘big accident’ occurred.

Y/N was barefooted, she wouldn’t even be able to squeeze a hard turd if she ever stepped on one with that wonky heel of hers. There was no way she’d had caused the girlfriend that much pain. And nobody blamed Y/N as they all witnessed how the girlfriend walked on set with her eyes on the phone, hitting Y/N first. Nobody but the girlfriend and Harry Styles, of course. So they all just watched in silence as Harry cursed and threw a fit on innocent Y/N.

The power couple didn’t want to continue unless Y/N was replaced. The crew had to comply no matter how irrational the demand sounded. And on top of that, suddenly Y/N was plastered on the internet as the girl who assaulted the world’s biggest supermodel and Harry Styles.

She would never forget the overwhelming uneasiness caused by the sudden rave of negative reviews about her, all from people who endorsed and supported her in the first place but decided to be the footnote of the Hollywood sweethearts’ testimony: ‘awful to work with’, ‘nothing without the connection’, ‘a mediocre photographer who got lucky’, and ‘talentless’.

And she still couldn’t wrap her mind around that dreaded event. She had heard tremendous chivalry and gentlemanlike attitude when it came to Harry Styles yet somehow, he was nothing but a certified dick who put her job on the line that day. Some friends who remained loyal to her speculated that the girlfriend was the bad influence. Some even were convinced that he was voodooed. She didn’t care about either, all she believed was that he’s an absolute wretch with an extraordinarily thick mask. A media trained monkey was the term she occasionally used after a few tequila shots.

“That witch is his Yoko Ono, I tell ya,” the creative director told her during their final meeting—the meeting to let her go, of course.

She just shrugged. All she wanted was her old life back. And if Harry Styles and/or that supermodel got into some terrible misery in that comeback, that would definitely be her cherry on top.

She still got a few gigs, just not as much and definitely not with big profiles like she used to. For Pete’s sake, she was deemed a promising photographer by those fashion executives! She was only getting started. She would have never imagined that with just a short answer during a talk show’s truth or dare game—who’s the one person you’d never want to work with ever again?—the power couple could diminish her entire life’s worth of hard work.

Within the next few months, she’s back to square one. Every morning she tried to contact some old clients who would perhaps still deign to be affiliated with, according to the world’s biggest supermodel’s words on that talk show, ‘the rudest effin’ bitch I’ve ever seen in the industry’.

And after countless unsuccessful attempts, she went back to the cafe she used to work at when she’s still starting her career, not to network like she used to but to pour some coffee for other people again. She’s back with the apron and the napkin and she couldn’t stop being cynical over some hopeful youngsters who got signed right in front of her eyes, on the table she just wiped.

Her cameras were laid unused on top of her rack and the mini darkroom she built in her apartment became a storage room. Believing she had failed miserably in life, she found herself no longer had hopes on anything. All she knew was to get by the day.

It was a cold December night. Everyone else went home to celebrate the holidays so she decided to do the shift. She’d be paid double plus she wouldn’t have to face her family, which would go eerie in this state of her life, so it was the better choice.

Having had just finished cleaning the whole cafe, she put on her coat. She was ready to come home to… nothing. Her mind raced back to this time last year, where she was fully booked and couldn’t wait to come home so she could recharge herself for an exciting tomorrow. Her life had become exceptionally dull and it was painful to go on.

An abrupt banging on the door halted her train of desperate thoughts.

“We’re closed. Can’t you see the time?! It’s almost midnight!” she snarked, back facing the intruder.

“S- Sorry, love…” the hoarse voice was paused with a couple of hiccups. “‘m just completely devastated…”

She rolled her eyes as she turned around and she almost had a heart attack. There stood the man who destroyed her life, terribly wasted out of his mind. He could barely stand straight without holding onto the doorknob.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she rolled her eyes, asking some deity entity if there was ever one.

“Hey! I know yeh…” Harry tried to get to her but his legs just gave up.

Falling face first, Y/N really wanted to leave him on the street. But of course she had that little voice of reason inside her that constantly screamed, “If you abandon him, you’re nothing better than him!” She was a decent person and she really hated it this time.

“Come on up,” she pulled Harry up and lingered his arm around her shoulder to help him walk. “Where do you live?”

“I don’t k- know,” he giggled. “I can’t remember, love…”

“Try,” she slapped his arm when he almost fell off yet again.

The snow was pouring down and they stood by the empty crossroad. Harry wouldn’t even remember his own name by now and she didn’t know how to get to his house. There was no other choice than to bring him home to her place.

It was nothing short of hard work to carry a man twice her size to her house on foot since there was not even a single cab around. It was even harder to hear him tell a story about his first imaginary friend during that wobbly trip where he tumbled more than five times and she had to pick him up every time. But it was the hardest when she had to take off his shoes so it wouldn’t mess with her couch—he didn’t want to take it off, nagging her with numerous ‘Go away, Mum!’s.

When she finally got to lay on her bed, she was too tired to even think of what just happened. She literally did some cardio workout bringing Harry home safe so unlike her usual nights, she fell asleep quite fast this time.

It was around four in the morning when she felt a body of weight sunk into her side. She turned around to face his uninvited guest sound asleep, legs tangled over hers like a knot. She quietly removed her legs and tried to get up. She needed to move to the couch, or anywhere far away from this invader.

This is my fucking house, why am I the one sleeping outside, she thought to herself. Anger boiling at the top of her head as her movement was stopped by his strong hand.

“Stay here…” he slurs.

He didn’t seem conscious to her. Maybe he mistook her as his girlfriend.

“I’m not—“

“I know,” he cut her off while still sleeping. “Just stay here for a while. It’s cold out there.”

She sighed and laid back down. Stiff and uncomfortable, but obviously exhausted, she closed her eyes as Harry’s arm pulled her closer to him. She could only hope the night would soon end or better yet, this was all not real.

When Harry woke up, he found a sticky note on his forehead.

‘You were hammered last night, didn’t know where you live so I took you home. Nothing happened, you just sorta burst into where I work around midnight so I kind of had to not abandon you. Don’t make yourself at home because this is my home.’

He couldn’t remember anything. He remembered getting blind drunk after gulping those spirit shots but what happened after that was redacted. His surrounding was unfamiliar and there was no other sign of life other than him that morning.

After splashing his face with cold water, he looked around the apartment. It was modest but very personal. There were random film rolls hung by the ceiling as Harry made his way to the living room. He put on his shoes by the couch as he observed the vinyl shelf at the corner of the room. It was filled with 60s-70s biggest musicians, from Jimi Hendrix to Van Morrison—which grew his curiosity of the owner. There were books that he also read, and the series of psychedelic photographs framed by the doorway was the biggest tic that made him wonder: how did he end up in this hippie’s safe haven, one that he actually wanted to live in when he was young? Did he get so hammered that he traveled back in time? His head hurt too bad to even think of the possibilities, all he knew was there was something about the owner that felt familiar and he ought to know them. He had to.

Harry rushed to shower at his home and got some aspirin. After running some overdue errands, he immediately went back to the apartment. He knocked on the door a few times to no avail so he decided to wait by his car outside.

Y/N was relieved when there was no sign of Harry when she got home that night. She would be lying if she wasn’t a tad bit worried of him considering he could absolutely die that night if he went to the wrong place, but then again he was the guy who ended her career so she couldn’t care less.

She picked Nick Drake’s Pink Moon from her vinyl collection and put it on the turntable. Relaxing by the couch that still reeked of alcohol and him, she ignored the constant knock on the door. It was usually her crazy neighbor looking for his nonexistent cat.

It was the sixth track that she finally got up and opened the door, hoping to end the annoyance of her peaceful evening.

Her eyes bugged out when she saw the figure by her door. It was him again.

Harry, with his furrowed eyebrows and lanky feet, looked just as surprised as she was. He clearly remembered who she was and somehow, not even Nick Drake’s soothing voice could calm her down. Filled with rage, she slammed the door right in front of his face.

Harry was shocked to see her. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d ever meet her again, moreover lodged by her. He wanted to thank her but he knew she’d probably throw a glass of water to his face. But he could not just leave.

So he did the tackiest trick in the book. When the track from behind the closed door hit Free Ride, one of his favourites, he began singing along as loud as possible. Some neighbors shushed him, some even scolded him but he didn’t stop.

She heard him loud and clear. She ignored him at first, but then she received a noise complaint call from the super. Upset, she thumped her way towards the door.

“Stop it!” she gritted her teeth as she opened it.

He stopped. “May I come in?”

“What do you want?” she barked.

“Just wanted to say thanks,” he muttered low.

“You’re welcome. There,” she slammed the door again.

There was nothing he could do so he decided to leave for now.

He came again the next day, this time saying there was something he needed to give back to her.

“What now?” she wasn’t as upset as the day before, but was still unfriendly as they just stood by the door leaf.

Harry handed her the sticky note she left on his forehead the day before.

“You can keep it,” she said as she closed the door.

No slamming door. A progress, Harry thought.

He came back again two days after that, carrying a limited release Fleetwood Mac record signed by Stevie Nicks herself.

“Got Stevie to sign it. They don’t have this at the stores anymore,” he presented it as if he was doing some product placement scene.

“Look, Harry Styles,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what the hell do you want from me but I really don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. You’ve done enough.”

“Yes, about that…” Harry scratched his forehead. “’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” she pushed the door but Harry was quick to hold it open.

“I’d help you make things right again,” his green eyes were desperate for her answer.

She let out a heavy sigh and moved aside as if cuing him to enter her little bubble. Harry entered immediately, not wanting to waste any more time in the outside world.

She was listening to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon, to which Harry sang along gently. She could hate him all she wanted but he really sounded divine especially within close proximity.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere else, anyway?” she sat on the far end of the couch.

He put the record on the coffee table. “Where, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Some talk show to say some shit about me with the girlfriend perhaps?”

“Look ‘m really sorry, I truly am,” he sighed. “And ‘m not with her anymore…”

He then explained everything. How he fell in love for the first time in his life with the supermodel who was perfect, beautiful, smart, and everything he’d ever dreamed of. How he was so sure of her but she didn’t feel the same so he tried to show it with everything he’s got—grand romantic gestures, going public (which was personally hard for him since he was a very private person), and siding with her on every kind of problem even if it meant hauling over an innocent photographer’s coals. He also explained how he felt awful most of the time since he’d changed so much for a person who didn’t even love him back and he began to feel lost. It all then culminated a couple nights ago when she decided that it was all still not enough and broke up with him over a phone call. That’s when he went crazy with the liquor and ended up wandering around.

She felt sorry for him and although she knew he could be lying, she could understand his pain. So, she decided to accept his apology. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for her but at least she wouldn’t have to carry around so much hatred in her life and he could also move on with his life, not haunted by the guilt.

He promised to help her gain her reputation back. The two planned to make some exclusive photoshoot of Harry himself.

They began meeting every now and then. At first, they would talk about all things professional and did photoshoots. She started receiving positive feedbacks especially after Harry gave her the shoutouts—it didn’t take a split second for his loyal fans to swarm her online profiles. With her raising popularity she started getting bigger gigs again, even bigger than her old gigs. She quit working at the cafe and her darkroom was occupied yet again.

Then, they would spend even more time together. He would make up excuses to meet with her, like he needed to see how she developed her rolls or coming by with a batch of eggs saying he was worried she ran out of eggs. Y/N knew Harry was just feeling lonely after the breakup so she always let him in. Nobody wants to hurt alone, she always thought.

He soon didn’t need any more excuses as he had become an extended roommate of hers. He always said he wanted to live in the 70s and her apartment was like a dream home for him. She just brushed it off, saying it’s because of her hidden interior designing talent. And with each passing day, as they grew closer, her hatred dissipated and was replaced with something strange yet pleasant inside her heart.

She learned the depths of him that no one else knew and it all became the little things only she understood. She felt privileged to gain the limited access.

Sometimes he’d show her the sneak peak of his newest song and she would give notes as she watered the many plants around her place. Sometimes they would play board games while discussing the possibility of living on Mars. Some other times, Harry would lay his head on her legs, not saying a word while Karen Dalton’s magnificent voice filled the air.

Her favourite moment with him had to be when they did the impromptu picnic under the stars. With a bottle of cheap wine, portable turntable, and shared blanket, they laid by the garden as they talked about their fears and desires. That was the first time in such a long time she could open up to someone and he said that made him feel so special.

Of course he was special to her. That’s why she still tiptoed around him from time to time, avoiding conversations like her love life because she didn’t want him to think that she’d like him when actually the growing feelings inside her heart had begun to suffocate her.

The way he spontaneously baked for her (and snobbishly told the infamous ‘I was a baker’ story), the way he laughed at her jokes, the way his eyes sparked when they were dancing around, the way he snored a little when he’s sleeping, the way he called her name—she wanted to just sink herself into his warmth and never let go.

Yet she couldn’t help but wonder whether he felt the same way too. The frequency of the supermodel’s name mentioned in their conversations has since reduced to almost never, but she still felt a sting in her heart as she knew she could never replace her. She was, after all, his first love. And don’t get her started on the physical prowess which she obviously lacked in compared to the supermodel. She didn’t dare to ask Harry whether he’s really forgotten about her, afraid that he’d find out her true feelings for him. So she remained the same. At least, he would be still by her side.

At least, there would never be any rejections.

The city was already blossoming when she realized that Harry had left traces of himself on every corner of her place. The hung film rolls were filled with his silly expressions, so was the polaroid collections stuck on her walls. He had installed a pile of pants by the corner of her living room so that he didn’t have to bring any change. And of course her bathroom now had a pair of tooth brushes. It rocketed her hopes but still, her doubts crept inside her mind every so often.

That lazy Saturday night, she went home from grocery shopping to find Harry asleep on her couch. He looked so soft and warm and she couldn’t help but to run her fingers through his smooth hair. She nervously came closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss on his forehead.

She got up immediately, afraid to wake him up. To her surprise, he suddenly grabbed her arm.

“What was that for, love?” he asked.

He didn’t even have the bed face he usually had, which led her to believe that he wasn’t really asleep.

“Were you pretending to be asleep?” she pulled away.

Harry stood up just as fast and within seconds, he wrapped her in his hug. He placed a kiss on top of her head and slowly traveled down to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. His lips roamed over hers as he slowly pressed them. It wasn’t heated and full of lust but rather deep and passionate as if he was taking his time.

It didn’t take long before they made their way to the bedroom and undressed each other with no rush. There was no spoken words, no roughness, just two people tangled up in heated infatuation.

When she woke up, he was still there. And it was beautiful.

It was still beautiful the next few months when they became a couple. He was her world and everything else was just background noise. He made her feel like the only person that mattered, as if everything that happened before ‘them’ was unreal. That this was the only real thing and it was all too good to be true.

Y/N should know better though, that life came just like a full circle. She just didn’t expect to actually be put back into the circle so soon.

They were invited to an afterparty of a fashion line Harry was strongly tied to and Y/N was more than proud to be by his side when he was introduced to be the muse that season. He was having the time of his life and so was she. The two held hands the entire time as they talked to everyone.

The belle of the ball, Harry himself seemed overwhelmed with the amount of love he received. He occasionally pressed her hand a little tighter when he was nervous, to which she’d respond with stroking his hand with her thumb. The simplest gestures that they’d developed overtime as they grew accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies or as Harry said, the good stuff about you.

That was until he saw a glimpse of her in the middle of the crowd that he suddenly let go of Y/N’s hand as if he was afraid that she would see him with Y/N. It would have been a little over a year since she last saw the supermodel and almost a year since Harry last met her.

All this time, Harry constantly convinced her that her insecurities over his love was nothing, that he only wanted her. And yet, he never even said those three words to her.

She knew now why he never did.

All this time, it wasn’t doubt that kept haunting her. It was a hunch.

The music was blasting but for Y/N, everything was silence. It only took a few seconds before she realized the look in Harry’s eyes. As if it was never truly her his eyes set on. That she was just a company to pass time. That she was the one he wanted just never loved.

She was never the one.

She tried to grab his hand before he’d be gone for good, and could only let out a faint ‘Please, don’t.’

But he could only mutter a little ‘Sorry.’ as he let go of her grasp and made his way through the crowd, trying to get to her, while leaving Y/N drowning in the sea of human who celebrated the man that she loved.

Part two.

Part three.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #tinayoufatlarrdd #harry styles fanfic

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imaginesbymk · 4 years

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PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER ONE ; BULLET FOR SHELBY.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: s4 spoilers, swearing, mentions of death and violence

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

"WHAT THE FUCK did you guys do to piss off the New York mafia?" Teresa enters the door to her office, Michael following her inside.

They sat across from each other from her desk. "The deaths were back to back, Teresa," Michael places a cigarette in his mouth.

"You can't smoke in here," Teresa stops him from lighting the end, pointing at the no smoking sign on the wall.

Michael raised his brows and puts it away in his coat pocket. "We had a negotiation, well at least tried to. One of them, Angel Changretta, was supposedly a plus one for Lizzie at Tommy and Grace's wedding—"

"Tommy and Grace got married?"

"Yes. The father Vicente sent an assassin to shoot Grace after John wounded his son Angel, so now Tommy fucks Lizzie while his son is looked after the maid."

Teresa leans back in her chair. It was no surprise on how things turned out. She remembered who Grace was, and of course as she had expected, Teresa wasn't delivered an invitation to the wedding. Even if she had gotten one, she would have thrown the letter into the fireplace.

"So then Tommy and Arthur got Vicente killed, including Angel."

"Well fuck that is . . ." Teresa trails off for a bit. "All over the place. But what was so bad about Angel?"

"The Changrettas are in connections with other enemies we have. He's also had changed names over the past. He couldn't be trusted, so one of ours burnt down Angel's restaurant."

"This never would of happened if John wasn't such a—"

"Thought you wished his soul at peace upon God?" Michael cuts her off. "You are so lucky that you don't have a fucking bullet in your head. And that black hand delivery?"

"But I already told you, I never got one delivered to my house," Teresa says. "And I check my post all the time. Why would Luca Changretta send one to me when I'm no longer a member?"

"Ada is on his list yet she doesn't get her hands dirty. Teresa, have a chauffeur escort you home, check your post again, and call me if you have received one. And I'll come back here to Penarth and I'll bring you to Birmingham so you'll be with everyone again. Tommy called—"

"No," Teresa's voice went bitter.

"What?"

"There's another reason why I will not come back. I don't wanna get turned inside out. And second, so help me God if I were to be in the same room as him."

"Are you talking about Tommy?" Michael sighs.

"I refuse to see that thing," Teresa scowls. "Tommy Shelby is a dirty piece of shit that can't stick to one woman. He's the reason why his wife is dead. That's how all the rich, powerful men are behaving nowadays."

"Look, I don't know if you read the headlines at that time, but Tommy turned all of us in for shit we did. We were just seconds away from hanging on a noose until we were bailed." Michael looked her dead in the eye. "I get it, Teresa. We all want to kick Tommy in the cock just as much as you, but we have bigger problems on our hands—and none of this works if we don't come together again. John is dead for fuck's sake. And you just might be next. Look what happened to me," He lifted his suit to reveal the large wrapped cloth around his torso, covering a gunshot wound.

Teresa gasps. "You were there when he died. They barely got you. And you almost smoked a cigarette while recovering from it? Why aren't you resting right now?"

"Mum sent me away after Luca broke into the hospital. She told me to drop by here to warn you and to bring you back. Aberama Gold is here too. He'll take care of you if you let him escort you—"

"For fuck's sake Michael! Aberama Gold?!"

Michael didn't respond to her outburst.

"Get well soon, but I am not helping you guys. I was not affiliated with whatever happened, it doesn't apply to me or my work, I haven't even got a fucking Christmas card, therefore I am not involved. So Michael, you just wasted your fuckin' time."

Michael shrugs. "Right. I'll leave, have fun with your art show."

"Have fun getting killed by the New York mafia, you dickhead," Teresa hissed watching Michael exit her office, then Teresa shouts out next, "You're supposed to shut my door on the way out!"

Michael stormed back and gripped the doorknob, pulling it closer so it slammed. His heavy footsteps carried down the hall until Teresa could finally be crestfallen. That was the first time hearing Michael speak so freely, he never interacted with Teresa that much, and Teresa herself was known to be outspoken. They only met once and that was an accidental run in before Teresa could finally get up and leave the dangerous life she ran away from all that time ago and it's now crawling back to haunt her, over Luca Changretta.

Yet Teresa huffed while burying her face in her hand, thinking about that man. Of all people, why would they want to mess with a Changretta? Over a disapproval of a wedding date?

And yes, Teresa remembered Vicente and Angel Changretta. Especially Luca, because once upon a time, one of them decided to visit the museum on a busy Sunday afternoon, and he laid his eyes on Teresa as her heels clinked against the marble floor trying to warn someone to keep their distance from the artwork.

She remembered it like it was yesterday, and she could hear the thick Italian-American voice tell her that, "amore is one hell of a blueprint for painters."

That was also another reason why Teresa is not going anywhere. In the conditions people were in during post world war, she began to take better care of her appearance.

Because once upon a time, Teresa fell in love with Luca Changretta.

#pink+white #tommy shelby fanfic #luca changretta #luca changretta fanfic #tommy shelby #luca changretta x oc #tommy shelby x oc #fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

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exxar1 · 3 years

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Episode 10: We Don’t Win

1/23/2021

I recently started subscribing to John MacArthur’s sermon podcasts. I’d never heard of him until he and his congregation began defying the lockdown mandates in California last summer. Although I’d added his podcasts to my library, I had never actually listened to any of them until three days ago when his sermon from this past Sunday began playing automatically as soon as my phone’s Bluetooth connected to my car. I was about to stop the playback as I was in the mood for some upbeat music, but then changed my mind when I looked at the dashboard display and saw what podcast had started.

John began his sermon by listing all the blessings God had bestowed upon him and his church in the last six months of 2020. The more that he and his congregation defied Governor Newsom’s tyranny, the more God blessed their ministry. He said that 2020 had given him, personally, an immense amount of clarity, and I knew exactly what he was talking about. 2020, for many of us, helped us to see exactly what matters most in this world and what our priorities should be. As John moved on to the heart of his sermon, he said three words that have been rattling around in the back of my brain ever since.

“We don’t win.”

We Christians do not win in this world. This world belongs to Satan. It always has ever since the Fall. It is not the destiny of the believers in Christ “…to win on this battleground,” as John puts it.

“We don’t win.”

I first heard this sermon on Wednesday, the day of President Biden’s inauguration. In the two days since he took the oath of office, we Americans have seen quite clearly what this president has in mind for the future of this country. One of his first acts was to sign an order that gives boys and girls the right to roam freely in the public restrooms of the opposite sex. Boys who “identify” as girls will also have the right to thus compete in women’s sports if they so wish. Biden and his administration also made announcements that they plan to not only roll back all the restrictions that President Trump had enacted to try to stop the public finding of international and domestic organizations that support abortion, but to also expand the current laws of “reproductive and women’s rights” to allow abortions up to and including the moment of birth. (He even campaigned on this abhorrent promise.) Abortions will soon be allowed for ANY reason and will be made as convenient as a checkup at your local dentist.

It’s that latter part that should bet striking fear and sorrow in the hearts of EVERY American citizen, regardless of religious affiliation. Roe v. Wade was just the beginning of America’s fall from grace and prosperity, and if Biden and his administration succeeds in their enactment of these new laws and permissions, then our country’s fate is truly sealed. Any nation — any people — that allows the willful, rampant murder of the unborn will not survive very long. It is among the last, deadliest signs of genuine, moral decay, and that — along with all the social movements that are currently fighting to erase gender and promote tolerance of ANYTHING regarding sexuality — are why I firmly believe that we are closer than ever to the Second Coming of Christ.

“We don’t win.”

The Biden administration is under the power and firm control of the another insidious, deceptive, and abhorrent social movement that has gripped this nation since last June: Black Lives Matter. There is no longer true justice in America. John MacArthur stated in his sermon that America is now under a new form of law and order known as “social justice”. Under this new justice, the only ones who are right are the oppressed, and the guilty are the oppressors. Justice is now based on race and skin color, rather than truth and right. All the garbage surrounding “white fragility” and “anti-racism” has made it perfectly acceptable for everyone to racially discriminate and hate anyone whose skin is white.

“We don’t win.”

Black Lives Matter, in its efforts to alter and/or erase American history have set the stage for America’s very foundation, the system of capitalism, to also be destroyed. All the economic plans of the Biden administration — as well as a democrat controlled congress — will ensure that socialism will take hold in this country even worse than when Obama was president. The current leaders of the Black Lives Matter movement are proud, outspoken Marxists, and they have never tried to disguise or obfuscate their beliefs. They have already succeeded in getting their insidious doctrine of “critical race theory” into public schools at every grade level in all the major cities in the U.S. Within one or two generations, our country will be overflowing with the same brainwashed population that brought about the Russian Revolution, which plunged that country into decades of economic and moral darkness.

“We don’t win.”

I am not writing this blog to frighten or depress you. (Well, actually, yes you should be scared shitless right now. I know I am.) John ended his sermon by reminding all Christians that yes, we don’t win. We don’t win down here, that is. Earth has already been claimed by Satan and his forces of darkness. But, if we have accepted Christ as our Lord and Savior, then we will not have to suffer much longer in this mortal realm. Our only task right now is to serve God by staying faithful to him and spreading the gospel. And, when our life is over, we will join our Heavenly Father at his throne, and we will have a front row seat to His final plan. His heavenly forces will make war with the corrupted world and its lord, Satan, in that great final battle of Armageddon, and it’s here, where it matters most, that we will win.

Part of my reason for writing this post today was to remind myself of the true power of God. We serve and worship the same God that made a covenant with Abraham and Isaac. The same God that brought the Israelites out of Egypt and watched over them as they traveled in the desert. No matter how often His people forgot Him or sinned against Him, God never forgot them. His wrath was great, yes, and there were many times the Israelites were punished for their sins, but God always provided a way of forgiveness and redemption.

In the back of my Bible is a listed reading plan for the year. I decided to embark on this as part of my daily devotional and as a new year’s resolution. I have already finished the books of Genesis and Exodus, and, while I still remember from so long ago the stories of creation; of Abraham, Isaac, Esau, and Jacob; of Joseph getting sold into slavery in Egypt only to be in the right place and right time to save his brothers and family; of God delivering His people out of slavery in Egypt — I was now reading all of those accounts with fresh eyes. Right now, when our country is on a rapidly descending slope into sin, darkness, and moral decay, it gives my heart and soul a much needed peace to know that that God of the Bible is the same God that still watches over his people. I want to add the phrase “protects them”, but I’m honestly not sure that’s appropriate. God is watching over us, make no mistake about that, but He’s also a vengeful God, and his wrath is great.

America was once a Christian nation, but I have a hard time uttering that phrase just now. I don’t believe it’s true anymore, and we Christians are about to enter a new era of persecution and tribulation. The government mandates that were issued last year in response to the manufactured “pandemic” are a perfect example of the new persecution. As John put it in his sermon, “Satan did his best to shut down our church.” The Lord of Darkness did his damndest to shut down ALL churches in this nation, and he succeeded in many states — most of them blue. Here in Nevada, for example, almost all churches are still shut down for worship. Services can only be attended from home via livestream.

This is just the first step. The new laws and policies that the Biden administration has already enacted — or plans to enact — will only serve the heathen and the wicked. But we Christians still have the power to fight back, and we most definitely should while we still can. Just look at John’s church in California. I won’t go into the whole list here, but John’s ministry did not shrink or fail during 2020. Quite the opposite, in fact. He stated that his congregation expanded by more than 1,200 members in just the last quarter of the year. People were driving in from out of state to attend services! The church more than tripled its funding from offering and donations in 2020, more than they’ve received in the last decade alone, in fact!

It is in times of great adversity and great trials, that Christianity grows. America is the modern equivalent of the Roman Empire, and, like those Christians in the days of Nero and Caesar, the believers in America today will be shunned, spit upon, arrested, and yes, even put to death, while the rest of the nation celebrates “diversity” and “tolerance” and continues to slaughter the unborn in record numbers.

No, it’s not quite that bad for us believers just yet. But within one or two generations, perhaps even sooner, it will be. The current “cancel culture” that is serving as the militant arm of movements such as Black Lives Matter will very soon turn their wrath upon anything that is religious. True Christians, the believers that will not compromise on “diversity” and “tolerance” by watering down the gospel or allowing immorality such as gay marriage and transgender “affirmation services”, among other things, will be attacked and cursed as being un-American and “evil”.

No, we don’t win down here.

But we will one day. Our suffering here is but for a time. Soon enough, we shall be reunited in Heaven with our Lord and Savior at the foot of his throne. All trials and tribulations will cease and we shall rejoice with Him evermore.

Amen, hallelujah!

#john macarthur #Christian #faith #God #black lives matter

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vandnana · 3 years

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Loving You Is Easy

Part Fifteen

I planned on dropping Chanyeol off that morning so we could have a classic movie goodbye. I woke up fifteen minutes earlier than Chanyeol, knowing that he would need extra coercion to just open his eyes.

I was laying on his chest, his arms draped over my back as he snored soundly. I called out his name, urging for him to get up already. As much as he pretended he didn’t hear me, his ears perked up every time I talked. He finally showed signs of life, once I tried to get up, grabbing my arm in protest.

He gently pulled me back down onto his chest and tightened his grip around me. “Please, June, just five more minutes. I won’t get to hold you like this for two days.” He was groggy as he spoke, his voice dipping into an even deeper octave than his regular voice.

Maybe it was because of the words he spoke to me, but I had only noticed his morning voice in that moment. My heart jumped, and my mind became entranced by it.

“Has your voice always been this deep in the morning?” I rested my head on his chest as I looked up at him.

His eyes were wide open now, and he rubbed them slowly, yawning. “Is it rea-Oh yeah, it is pretty deep. Why? Is it sexy?” A smirk formed as he made eye contact with me.

I laughed at his comment, but answered bluntly, “Yeah, honestly, it’s really sexy. But...you’ll be gone and I’ll just be in here by myself with no one to wake up to.”

Heat rose to Chanyeol’s cheeks because of my honesty, and he suddenly got shy, turning his gaze away from mine. I sat up, amused by his reaction.

“What? You asked if it was sexy. I think it is.”

Still not looking at me, he scratched the back of his head. “Y-yeah but I said it as a joke. I didn’t think you were going to answer seriously. Now, I’m all blushy at 4 in the morning.”

It was usually Chanyeol who would make me flustered, always finding an opportunity to make me blush by being sweet or suggestive. But, on a rare occasion when the roles were reversed, Chanyeol, although terribly confident and secure, always got more shy than I ever would.

He covered his face with a pillow even though I couldn’t really see how red his face was, and I smiled widely. Chanyeol rarely ever got embarrassed, but when he was, I always liked it.

I got up from the bed, walking over to get my clothes for the day. He noticed my movements, and peeked his head out from behind the pillow.

I could feel him staring at me, but once I looked back, he covered his face again.

“Super sexy Chanyeol, you need to get out of bed. Your train leaves in an hour.”

Chanyeol left his lying position to sit on the edge of the bed, abandoning the pillow haphazardly.

“Alright, fine. I’m going to take a shower real quickly.” He rubbed his eyes one last time before finally standing up.

He picked up the clothes he laid out the night before and trudged out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

I changed quickly out of my pajamas into a warm sweater and black sweats. I shivered at the thought of how cold it was going to outside, and I looked down at my outfit. It would suffice, but I resorted to stealing one of Chanyeol’s beanies and the hoodie he let me borrow so long ago.

I walked out to find Halmeoni in the kitchen putting plates on the dining table. She looked up at me sympathetically as she motioned for me to sit down. She patted my shoulders.

“I would say good morning, but Chanyeol is leaving us because his friends don’t know how to use the garbage disposal. I’m sorry June.”

“No, it’s okay. He isn’t going to stay for the whole week, so he’ll get to come to the exhibit still.”

“Yes, but not the opening. His friends are such leeches sometimes.”

“But they’re his friends still. Besides, they probably miss him too.”

Halmeoni let out a painful sigh as she peered at me, “Oh June, how did you end up so understanding? If I was in your position, I wouldn’t even look at Chanyeol.”

“What are you saying about me?” Chanyeol’s voice rang as he approached the dining table.

The shoulder of his crew neck was blotched with water from his hair that was recklessly finger-brushed. I could see that he was now freshly awake, the drowsiness he once felt no longer in his happy eyes.

She scowled as he walked into the dining room, crossing her arms. “I was just telling June that I wouldn’t be as understanding about you leaving if I was her.”

“I see that you’re still mad at me.” Chanyeol’s voice was tinged with distress.

“Of course I’m mad! For June and for your sake! Don’t you think it’s unfair that they want you to go up just to fix the house. They could do it themselves.”

Chanyeol huffed sadly, not wanting to look at either of us. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t say no in the moment, and the guilt he had put away for the night came crawling back.

His eyes glinted that guilt, and I put my hand over his to comfort him.

“Hey, it’s really okay. It’s not like I’m your only friend. You have a whole group of them back home. Don’t stress out about it.”

I turned to Halmeoni disapprovingly. She was stubborn about her opinions, but she knew that it was too late to do anything. She uncrossed her arms and sat down with us to eat.

There was an uncomfortable tension in the air, but I had no choice but to bask in it as we all ate together. I kept glancing at Chanyeol as if I could read his thoughts. It was easy to tell that he still didn’t want to go. His eyes were happy because we were together, but his posture had a lingering despair.

Once we finished eating, Halmeoni insisted on coming with me to drop Chanyeol off. She said that she only wanted to because she was concerned for my safety, but we both knew that, despite her angry, she would regret it if she didn’t send him off.

The walk to Penn Station typically only took six minutes, but Chanyeol purposely walked slower so that we wouldn’t have to say goodbye sooner. He protected my hand from the cold by putting it in his pocket, and I smiled the whole way, despite the dread I knew I would feel later. Halmeoni walked swiftly in front of us, looking back every once in a while, then slowing down to somewhat match our pace. As we walked to the station, a question rose in my mind about his friends. Although he talked to me about them, it didn’t make sense that he would live so far away when they all lived in the city. Chanyeol recounted the story with all the juicy details.

The house they all lived in was in a place called Schenectady. It was calm, a stark contrast from the bustling nature of Manhattan, and a complete change of scenery for their little group.

The only reason why they lived in Schenectady was because Junmyeon’s dad bought property to be nearer to the General Electric headquarters. He became a board member when Junmyeon was a junior and, for convenience sake, moved his family over there.

At first, Junmyeon hated being separated from his friends, hated the quaintness of the place, and despised the lack of industrial air. But, he warmed up to the place once he became the talk of the town. Girls at his new high school ogled him, guys were envious of him, moms wished their daughters would date him, and dads wished their sons could be like him.

But once his dad was promoted to handle national affairs, they didn’t need to live there anymore. Junmyeon moved back to Manhattan for senior year, but the appeal of Schenectady got to him. Being in Schenectady was easy and relaxed, and he figured that his friends would enjoy the calming air too. It was easy to convince Baekhyun and Sehun to come, but Chanyeol didn’t want to leave his grandma. Eventually though, he agreed to live with them up there, and they all started at Pacific Union College.

Chanyeol kept up with his studies too diligently to keep his scholarship, and ended up graduating early. The other three let the ease of the town get to their heads, taking their time and reveling in the party scene, but the matter of when they would graduate never really mattered to them anyway. All of their parents were rich and affiliated, relieved that their kids were doing something with their lives, and relieved that they sought their own independence.

I laughed when Chanyeol talked about the independence that his friends apparently had, and he gave me a sideways look. I didn’t want to confront him with my ideas because he had heard enough from Halmeoni yesterday, so I brushed it off.

We finally approached the huge building and I gaped at the height of it. Once we entered inside, I was still in awe as I marveled at the station’s entire structure. Everything was intensely interesting, but the one thing that truly caught my eye was the glass domed ceiling. I let go of Chanyeol’s hand and spun around looking up at it, but as I returned my eyes forward, I stumbled a little from the slight dizziness.

“Woah June, falling already?” Chanyeol teased as he grabbed my shoulders to keep me upright.

“The ceiling is so cool. The architecture of this place is so genius.” I gaped as he cheerfully giggled at my reaction.

“Yeah, it is pretty, but it’s also a place for goodbyes, which is why it makes me sad.” Chanyeol let go of my shoulders, his head hanging low as he kicked the air miserably.

“Yeah, but it’s also a place for reunions too. I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back. And it’s not like this is the 1800s where we don’t have any communication. We can text and FaceTime.” I rubbed his shoulders reassuringly then lifted his chin with my other hand. He couldn’t help but smile.

Chanyeol pulled me into a tight hug, and I found myself not wanting to let him go, not wanting to let him leave me. For a second, there was a fear that he would never come back, that he would be more comfortable around what was always familiar to him, and it grew once he pulled away.

But the feeling faded as he gave me a look that dripped with a tender affection. He paused, studying my face as if he needed to remember it, then kissed my forehead. I froze once his lips touched my skin, and a sheepish smile formed on my face. He pulled away, and cautiously made his way toward Halmeoni who was reading the different signs plastered all over the place, her arms crossed again.

“Halmeoni, I’m sorry.” Chanyeol said quietly. She turned around frowning.

“I don’t need an apology, your ‘sorry’ should be for June. Just make sure to make it up to her when you get back. This trip better be worth it.”

“I promise I will, and it will okay? I’ll give them a full lecture when I get there.”

“As if that will work with those spoiled kids.” Halmeoni muttered under her breath, but Chanyeol still heard, frowning at her.

“Come on, Halmeoni, you know them better than that.”

“Yes, I do, but they rely on you too much. They are all grown. You know what, I don’t want to fight with you on this. Just have a safe trip. Call us every hour so we know how you are, okay? I love you Chanyeol.” She hugged him tightly, and Chanyeol held a silent thankfulness that she didn’t press on.

Chanyeol gave a final goodbye, waving to us as he walked away. I waved back happily, but inside the dread I knew would be in my heart finally settled. We turned back toward the entrance, and back into the fresh, cold morning air. The sun was starting to peek through the sky, coloring it a brighter color than the previous darkness that illuminated the moon.

Our walk back to the shop was silent as we focused on increasing our pace. I thought that Chanyeol’s clothes would engulf me in the familiar warmth I always felt around him, but it didn’t feel the same knowing that he was gone.

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stfreds-a · 4 years

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hello everyone! this is rylan (27, she/her, gmt+2) here to introduce you to the lil nugget of fucked up-itude that is freddie dawson! + more info, wanted connections. / @redridgeimp

name: fredericke ann dawson nicknames: freddie, fred, st. fred age: 33 ethnicity: white gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her sexual/romantic orientation: bisexual/biromantic been in red ridge for: five years occupation: bartender at st. peter’s affiliation: none positive traits: nurturing, clever, good spirited, humorous, wise, motherly, diligent, quiet, loyal, protective. negative traits: closed off, impulsive, proud, resentful, self-deprecating, bitter, frightened.

BIOGRAPHY —

(WARNINGS for depression, death, abuse / domestic abuse, violence, underage sex, prostitution, child abandonment).

“why’d you get so obsessed with that word, freddie? who told you about saints?” “grandpa did, he said he’s named after st. peter”. “and why do you care?” “‘cause he said saints do good things. i wanna be a saint, too”. “why on earth would you want that?” “‘cause, ma — i wanna save everyone”.

—

there’s a lifetime from that moment to now. she can remember it, but it comes in flashes, a hazy hue of desert gold — she remembers the girl she was, bright-eyed and restless, never shying away from the trail of a question. prying, relentless: the whole world could be simplified to reasons and whys, and she would hunt them the whole day long, out in the dust storms like the wind, not even it could dare question her spirits. whatever happened to that girl? dull, watered down: erased, and her own has been the hand rubbing her existence off her own life.

el paso, texas, 2002. she couldn’t tell how it happened, or when it began — surely that summer of eighteen years ago must have played its part. her mother losing her job (too tired, too tired all the time: too sad to see a doctor, too weak to even get out of bed anymore), bills piling up. her older sister trying hard to keep things afloat with an underpaid gig at the laundry, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough. one day grandpa comes home and he’s making math in his head, calculating how much longer they can survive if he sells the farm, the truck, the horse. that night freddie asks, how come their dad’s not around? he could provide, he could help them? grandpa grows colder then, gaze darker than the clouds gathering on the horizon: i’ll burn this place to the ground before he sets foot in here.

that side of the family, either way, is cunning and insidious, and it comes knocking at the door, offering business, a way to salvage the farm. it is victor, freddie’s uncle, who brings the offering: grandpa throws him out in spite, and freddie watches it all while she’s sitting on the fence outside, skin burning gold from the sun, dust sticking to her like glitter. you’re pretty, victor says: you might be your family’s only chance, you know? she doesn’t (can’t) understand, but she’ll walk any way that can save grandpa, his horse, her mother’s strength, her sister’s dreams of becoming a nurse.

turns out the way is a dark and winding one, one where she has to suck up the terror when a man touches her skin and she has to say yes, please, more, i’ll be anything you want, the key to unlocking all the dark and sick desires you’ve buried in there and can’t speak to anyone, not your wife, not your daughter, not your mother: give them to me, she whispers, let the darkness out. at night she takes hour-long showers to try and rub the darkness off of her, and it won’t come off, it never does — but grandpa didn’t have to sell the farm, and even if he was against her getting a job (said she’d be a waitress, don’t worry pops, i got it), the day he realized he wouldn’t have to sell the horse he smiled: it felt like the gates of heaven themselves would open.

she hates her job, but doesn’t mind the company. they make her work in a dismissed motel, along with girls about her age and her damage, and there is an unspoken bond of loyalty between them — the guys, too, when they’re guarding the doors they smile at them as fondly as they would their sisters (but they wouldn’t let their sisters in a place like this, no). there’s carl, who never speaks but smiles at fred each time he sees her. there’s billy, drives her home every night before victor can volunteer. there’s sonja, who teaches her how to punch a man’s throat when he gets too handsy. there’s a sense of family, while her own begins unraveling around the suspicion that something dark is going on.

el paso, texas, 2005. the farm is saved, but mom’s not getting any better. depression sucks her up, little by little, and she drifts away more or less peacefully, doesn’t dare oppose resistance — she dies a morning of october, and neither of her daughters can speak of it. grandpa has to put down the horse a week later. she’d thought she’d saved everyone —— how come the darkness still won’t leave?

she grows sadder, dark as the clouds that won’t seem to leave their town alone. she finds an unexpected shoulder to cry on in the person of johnny, billy’s cousin and yet another one of victor’s men: johnny’s sweet, he makes her laugh. he begins driving her home at night instead of billy (his cousin’s not happy, she can see this: but he nods his agreement anyway and doesn’t protest, he can’t, johnny’s older and wiser and he’s still just a kid). the rest of it is as old and predictable as it gets: he says he’ll make an honest woman out of her, she retorts there needs to be an honest man for that to happen to begin with. they laugh, they kiss, they promise — five years later, she’s twenty-five and married, almost happy. almost.

el paso, texas, 2006. she wants to leave her job. johnny said he can’t stand the thought of someone touching her where he should, and she tries: but victor won’t have it, no, did you think it was a temporary gig? come on girl, you’re smarter than that. he’s filthy, he humiliates her — beats her just to prove he can, he owns her. she comes home with bruises and johnny’s angry: if you couldn’t quit, he says, it’s because you didn’t really want t. his bruises are added to victor’s, perfectly symmetrical blooms to decorate her skin. she begins cracking, her very essence tearing at the seams — she was trying so hard to save everyone, how the fuck is she gonna save herself now?

billy comes over sometimes. his commitments to what he likes to call “street things” keep him out of the motel now, but he needs to check on her — she makes up excuses to keep away, hide the signs. says she’s got a bad cold one day, the other she’s just not feeling. one day he’s got enough and forces her to open the door: a busted lip, both her eyes grown purple with the blows. his anger is scalding hot but she manages to calm him down — it’s okay, she says, he just gets angry sometimes. i’ll find a way out of it somehow. he leaves in a hurry, never shows up again: the unspoken fear in her mind, that he’s gone and done something terrible he’ll regret, almost brings a relief to her sore mind. perhaps he’s killed him, she thinks. perhaps i’m free.

johnny comes back and it’s business as usual. she tells herself she’s gotta be strong, gotta leave this town, gotta make it out alive. she packs a bag and leaves it hidden under the bed, but when she looks at the door she sees the world with johnny’s face, ready to eat her up, chew her out, over and over. it’s the day police comes knocking at her door that the world drags her out — in the person of detective jake graham, investigating the disappearance of william ‘billy’ dickinson — part of a much bigger investigation, that sooner leads to the arrest of victor rosce and most of his men (johnny included). she’s on her own: and when the detective figures out she needs help, he makes the way for a new life in red ridge, nevada. beaten, broken, ashamed, she says goodbye to texas; to freddie dickinson; to the comfortable shelter of her fear.

red ridge, nevada, 2015. red ridge ain’t much of an afterlife, but it works. they take her to a women’s shelter and bit by bit she puts her pieces back together. badly held in place, like a broken teacup taped back together — but it works. azul, the director of the shelter, turns out to be the family she’s missing — she finds a sense of home in the shelter, a new purpose behind the counter of st. peter’s, serving drinks for those who are heading for a fight at rogues’. like a gatekeeper, like st. peter himself: such a stark contrast from the hell she just left.

heaven is short-lived, and hell comes knocking back at the door. it appears in the shape of two parallel lines on a pregnancy test: johnny’s seed, rooted in her womb, giving way to evil like himself. she wants to throw up, hopes somehow that’ll rid her of this curse — her vision blinded, her ears are ringing. in fear, she turns to the only place she knows can provide comfort, or advice, or any sort of guidance while she has no fucking clue how to fix this: back home, to her sister.

el paso, texas, 2016. grandpa’s dying, angie says. old age catching up to him, so all he does is lie in his bed all day and ask for movies to be played continuously on his tv. it’s an odd family they recreate now, the nurse, the dying man and the pregnant sister. there is a soft, mournful balance found, until one night victor shows up demanding to see her and when angie claims freddie isn’t there he has his men beat her grandpa, thrash the house just to get the point across: he can. he owns her.

she sits by her grandpa’s deathbed that night and weeps. i’m sorry, pops, i’m so sorry: i tried so hard to be a saint, to save everyone. perhaps he’s just exhaling, but it sounds like he’s laughing. child, he says, saints always die either virgins or martyrs. you fucked up the first — now you just gotta pray you’re good enough for the latter.

somewhere between texas and nevada, 2016. grandpa dies two weeks later, and freddie’s not there. right after victor’s visit, angie gave her money just to get her away from them, and bring her trouble with her — grandpa dies a week before her baby’s born, taken out of her and delivered into a nurse’s hands without so much as a goodbye. they ask, would you like to see your baby? freddie turns and pretends she didn’t hear. wherever the baby will end up, it’s gotta be a better fate than the child of a martyr.

red ridge, nevada, 2017. red ridge felt like a home. for a hot second, it felt like things could start over again. she ends up in it again — in the thick of a burning town, trying to make her way through people that do not belong to her, desperately looking for something to hold on to. a year has passed since she last set foot in town, but st. peter’s has been waiting for her; the same arrangement of unfinished business, too. little by little, in red ridge, she begins putting herself back together.

CURRENTLY fred is a bartender at st. peter’s, occasionally lends a hand to azul evangelista for the women’s shelter, is in a committed relationship with detective jake graham. her uncle, her husband and most of their gang are in jail after the investigation jake led back in 2015. she hasn’t heard from her sister ever since leaving el paso. her baby was given up for adoption and she never learned anything more about them — nor does she plan to.

#mine's a humble light — file.#intro.#redridgeintro #♥

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saintfreda · 4 years

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character introduction — fredericke “freddie” dickinson dawson.

with a new & improved bio since the first one i added to the blog was far too rushed (and this one’s only... slightly better). TRIGGER WARNINGS: depression, death, financial problems, domestic abuse, violence, pregnancy, child abandonment.

“ look what i found , look what i found ! an artificial light , well , come gather round ! this is why we have lovers and why we have fighters . this is why the arms race and the particle colliders. mine is a humble flame , just a little white lighters — and it belongs to me ” (♫).

NAME : fredericke ann dickinson . an old name, another’s name — as tangible as ghosts now, an echo from the bottom of a well. whatever was left of fredericke dickinson now goes by the name of freddie dawson, fred for some friends (st. fred for the funny ones). AGE : thirty-eight (born september 12, 1977). PRONOUNS : she/her. GENDER : cis female. LOCATION : charming, ca. OCCUPATION : bartender (hoopers). SEXUAL ORIENTATION : bisexual. RELIGION : atheist. AFFILIATION : none.

PERSONALITY : “saint fred” — is it a nickname, a self-fulfilling prophecy? is it the destiny of the ones who were born to atone sins they can’t remember anymore? she remembers hearing it the first time, after covering a friend’s shift for the third time — she thought she liked the sound of it then, but it crawled under her skin, turned into a thought, a question, burrowed itself between the folds of her brain until each morning she’d open her eyes and think to herself: is this the day i become a martyr? thing is, it comes easy to her, playing the saint — always smile, always laugh, be there for everybody. have a safe shoulder to cry on, a wise joke to crack, a clever trick to keep her audience interested and intrigued. and still it’s a mask, or perhaps a layer of the hundreds she’s buried deep within herself. there’s things of her — true, honest pieces of the grotesque patchwork she’s made of herself — that flow up to the surface now and then, bubble up on her face: curiosity, a sharp humor, an ability to cut reality into thin strings of cutting-edge wisdom. then there’s the façade — a smile to hide the hollowness within, laughter to cover the screaming that won’t come. she’s made herself a shelter of her loneliness and is proud of it, it consoles her at night, thinking her self-imposed exile from a life worth living would be enough to make up for the good she couldn’t do. she calls everyone “friend”, would follow anyone into battle and yet won’t let them in — so scared, so frightened that they might look inside and find nothing but rot inside. but the outside, oh the outside is beautiful: as nurturing as a mother, warm and thrilling like that first drop of whiskey after sundown. sometimes she makes herself bigger than her demons and then she burns bright, fuel on the fire: it’s a show for others, for she can’t protect herself (she’s never been good at that, never good at nothing but running). there’s an unspoken safety distance she keeps with everyone, and everything’s warm until the line’s crossed — what lies behind the confine of the bar counter is a wasteland, no place any man or woman could set foot in. POSITIVE TRAITS : nurturing, clever, good spirited, humorous, wise, motherly, diligent, quiet, loyal, protective. NEGATIVE TRAITS : closed off, impulsive, proud, resentful, self-deprecating, bitter, frightened.

BIO —

TRIGGER WARNINGS : depression, death, prostitution, domestic abuse, violence, sexual abuse, child abandonment) .

—

she couldn’t tell how it happened, or when it began — surely that summer of twenty-three years ago must have played its part. her mother losing her job (too tired, too tired all the time: too sad to see a doctor, too weak to even get out of bed anymore), bills piling up. her older sister trying hard to keep things afloat with an underpaid gig at the laundry, but it’s not enough. it’s never enough. one day grandpa comes home and he’s making math in his head, calculating how much longer they can survive if he sells the farm, the truck, the horse. that night freddie asks, how come their dad’s not around? he could provide, he could help them? grandpa grows colder then, gaze darker than the clouds gathering on the horizon: i’ll burn this place to the ground before he sets foot in here.

the farm is saved, but mom’s not getting any better. depression sucks her up, little by little, and she drifts away more or less peacefully, doesn’t dare oppose resistance — she dies a morning of october, and neither of her daughters can speak of it. grandpa has to put down the horse a week later. she’d thought she’d saved everyone —— how come the darkness still won’t leave?

she wants to leave her job. johnny said he can’t stand the thought of someone touching her where he should, and she tries: but victor won’t have it, no, did you think it was a temporary gig? come on girl, you’re smarter than that. he’s filthy, he humiliates her — beats her just to prove he can, he owns her. she comes home with bruises and johnny’s angry: if you couldn’t quit, he says, it’s because you didn’t really want it. his bruises are added to victor’s, perfectly symmetrical blooms to decorate her skin. she begins cracking, her very essence tearing at the seams — she was trying so hard to save everyone, how the fuck is she gonna save herself now?

johnny comes back and it’s business as usual. she tells herself she’s gotta be strong, gotta leave this town, gotta make it out alive. she packs a bag and leaves it hidden under the bed, but the same day she realizes it’s been two months since her last period — surprise comes in the shape of two parallel lines on a stick. maybe this is the answer: it’s not herself, but this thing inside of her that’ll save her. when she tells johnny he’s over the moon, he’s burning with joy — says he’ll be a good man now, he’ll speak to victor himself and force him to leave her alone. the truce lasts two months: one night he comes home tired from work, bruised from a fight, and she hasn’t cooked dinner. he beats her within an inch to her death that night. in the morning, she grabs her bag and calls her sister. i’m sorry, she says through the tears. i fucked up. i need to come home.

grandpa’s dying, angie says. old age catching up to him, so all he does is lie in his bed all day and ask for movies to be played continuously on his tv. it’s an odd family they recreate now, the nurse, the dying man and the pregnant sister. there is a soft, mournful balance found, until one night victor shows up demanding to see her and when angie claims freddie isn’t there he has his men thrash the house just to get the point across: he can. he owns her.

grandpa dies two weeks later, and freddie’s not there. right after victor’s visit, angie gave her money just to get her away from them, and bring her trouble with her — grandpa dies a week before her baby’s born, taken out of her and delivered into a nurse’s hands without so much as a goodbye. they ask, would you like to see your baby? freddie turns and pretends she didn’t hear. wherever the baby will end up, it’s gotta be a better fate than the child of a martyr.

and yet in the morning she wakes up and finds herself without strings. a chance, a tangible way to start over again somewhere — an ad for a wanted bartender brings her out to charming, california. not much of an eden or a promised land, but it’s far too easy to get a fake i.d. and put on a brave face — much braver than the one she’s worn so far.

#charming.intro #FILE / mine's a humble light.

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cruezins · 4 years

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☣ ; ( KIM TAEHYUNG , 24 , HE/HIM ) coming up next on rebel radio is OPAUL by FREDDIE DREDD . this tune goes out to SIWON RYU . rumor has it they just rolled into town and are fightin’ for the GHOULS . they’re AFFABLE , INQUISITIVE but also AIMLESS , MERCURIAL so watch your backs out there . we wish them the best of luck here in our golded city of light . stay vigilant , stay dirty rock ‘n rollers and we’ll catch you for the next one .

𝐎𝐎𝐂 : hello ! i’m deni and i don’t know what editing is . i use she/her pronouns and live in the gmt+9 timezone . i’m terrible with ooc chats and half the time just want to vibe a connection or plot idea , so please don’t hesitate to throw a half-formed thought at me because i swear i’ll do the same . my discord is gay fairy#6371 . anyway , here is siwon , someone i’ve been work-shopping for a while ! looking forward to writing with you ♡

☣ ; 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 .

cw : drug mentions ; stop me if you’ve heard this one before------

his dad’s a junkie and he hasn’t seen his mom since some fatcats bought their restaurant for a steal a few years before , but that’s the way of life for a lot of people in the underground . young , bored , and desperate to hear and smell anything that wasn’t the rottenness of his own childhood home , siwon found himself on the streets more nights than not , spray paint in one hand , painting nights in greens and purples until reds and blues chased him away . makes his first steal before he can tie his shoes . creates alliances with the neighborhood kids , sneaks around to watch how the haves live with their pretty , pretty screens and their ugly , ugly words . school isn’t anything special , either , and while siwon can’t remember shit that he reads from a page he can work with his hands . fast and efficient , nimble fingers whether they’re flying across a keyboard or fucking around with some screws . you can make something of yourself , some of his teachers tell him while others can’t stop bitching about homework or tardiness or the way he falls asleep in the middle of class . but what’s siwon supposed to make ? he and his ragtag group of weirdos he calls friends . when he gets older and nights get hungrier , siwon learns to stop relying on the benevolence of neighbors and finds a job --- he’s fast , after all , with a sweet face and wide eyes , makes a helluva getaway after years and years of running .

thieving’s a natural grift . he’d been training for this his whole life . then he catches the eyes of a boss man who isn’t nearly as mad as he should be catching some kid with his wallet in his hands . courier comes next , ferrying messages from a bunch of suits all over the city . siwon never opened the packages , never second guesses the credits that start bloating his account . desperate , he does what he’s told and does it well ------ and that’s the real kicker , isn’t it ? that after a year and some-odd months of dedicated service they leave him high and dry with some bullshit he doesn’t have any involvement with . after years of running , boys in blue finally catch him and he’s left to take the fall of some dumb fuckery , man , and he’s pissed . steaming in jail , it’s a wonder some other gang didn’t get to him first . the longer he sat and talked with that ghoul member , the more he grew to despise the rich , the ones who left him to rot after all the shit he did for them . what was even the point anymore ? dog eat dog kind of bullshit , no sense of loyalty or shit anywhere . the law and all that money was out to get him from the beginning and siwon had enough of it . a few months locked up but he learned and leaned and learned , only able to get out on a technicality . the second he stepped back out into the sun , siwon followed the map given to him and signed up for the ghouls . city of light be damned . the only lights he wants to see are flames eating this hellhole alive .

☣ ; 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 .

➤ full name. ryu si-won ➤ date of birth. january 29th ➤ hometown. city of light ➤ gender. cis male ➤ affiliation. ghouls ➤ primary occupation. drug runner , pickpocket ➤ secondary occupation. network manager at an internet cafe

➤ sexual attraction. pansexual ➤ romantic attraction. panromantic ➤ character alignment. chaotic neutral ➤ personality type. enfp ➤ temperament. sanguine ➤ wants. power , family

stands around 5′11 . broad shoulders , slim hips . floppy , messy hair and sun browned skin . half legs . a few pieces of silver in his ears and a small hoop on his bottom lip . dresses somewhere between a washed up rockstar , your college weed dealer , and a miami vice reject . style’s a whim with a closet’s chaotic mix of anything he thrifts or patches together . most of the time he’s sporting cuffed jeans , vintage blouse , a denim jacket or tweed blazer and thick ass boots . keeps all that hair back with a bandanna or a headband , hair ties on his wrist . nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal —— or simply just a steal . likes colors just as much as he likes his neutrals . wears a black air filtration mask and fingerless gloves . considers his floral button-up shirts fancy material and his trousers cut off at the ankles . likes the smell of old leather and the breathing of fringe on a jacket , the weight of heavy rings on his fingers and sunglasses swooped low on his nose . wears a monocle because he can’t be fucked with reading glasses . his hair’s been every color of the rainbow and he’s always changing it up thanks to temporary dye .

☣ ; 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 .

hustles at arcade halls , scarfs down ramen and burritos like they’re gonna disappear , looks as comfortable in a dark , dirty alley as he does standing under all those lights in the neon district . pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips . likes cheap beer and cigarettes , fast talking and smooth smiles . gets up when the sun goes down . who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep , but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere . seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee , at the internet cafe one moment and grabbing fried cheese sticks in the next before crossing the bridge to watch the street races and venturing to the tunnels for the fighting rings . complains about being broke but puts down bets faster than anyone . lives for the feeling of wind in his hair so the window of his top-floor one bedroom shit hole stays open all the time . feels the rain on his skin , plays with matches . learned how to assemble a gun in less than sixty seconds and stays packing nowadays though he can’t really shoot for shit . spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls . looks like an angel under all those holographic lights .

rides a motorbike and his skateboard . can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy . can barely stand to sit still , always moving except when there’s a computer screen in front of him . gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary --- people , food , liquor , feelings . craves that intimacy , craves that closeness that’s always been denied to him . has a loud as fuck laugh and a love for sneaking into places where he doesn’t belong . catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease . still sees his family . not as much as a good son would , but he sends cash when he can and looks after his younger sister , makes sure she stays well and clean . they don’t know half of what he’s gotten up to since he was let out of prison , but they might have some idea --- after all , who’d pay a crooked boy with a record as well as he seems to be ? when the sun starts to come up and he crashes into bed , siwon stares out the window and thinks about how in another world , or in another time he probably could’ve been something . could’ve made something great . but for now he’s just got a whole lot of anger , raw like a fresh wound he can’t stop picking at .

☣ ; 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

➤ bonds. my loyalty to my friends is unwavering ; i owe everything to my mentor --- a horrible person who’s rotting in jail somewhere ; i fleeced the wrong person and must work to ensure this individual never crosses paths with me . ➤ flaws. once i pick a goal , i become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life ; when I see something valuable , i can't think about anything but how to steal it ; i have a weakness for the vices of the city .

he’s friendly , but he doesn’t make friends easily --- the ones that he has made , he’d do anything for . because that’s how he’s gotten this far , right ? all those people who looked after him when others tried to stomp him out . he’s still close with his teen friends who threw a few grifts with him , gaming buddies that he knows only through a screen . little escapes from all the other bullshit going on in the world . even though he isn’t a club guy , he runs into more than a few faces on his rounds . maybe they’re bad influences or sweethearts who help that touch starved affliction that comes from living in a city so wired . on the flip side , there’s some enemies --- competitors in the runner world , antagonists he meets at the races or rings for whatever reason ( insane bets make tempers run hot , who knows when they’ll flare for good and siwon’s learning the hard way how to keep his mouth shut ) . he’s fixed up a few cars or weapons for people recently because he misses working with his hands . y’know , making nice . then there’s people he’s caught in a crossfire with , where they’ve met something nasty one too many times before over turf , territory and clients . a newer face to the ghouls , he’s bugged someone into mentoring him , and gone on a few runs with someone he loves to call a coworker .

eager to prove himself as more than a green kid with a keyboard and an eye for detail , find him cutting deals and making trades in smokey barbecue houses , hole-in-the wall ramen shops or by taco tents . a full bellied class of clients are happy clients in his opinion , and siwon isn’t above not making deals with the other groups who’s names aren’t violent delights . speaking of which --- there are definitely some skeletons there he aims to confront , some old demons to fight from that class of people that fucked him over . there’s an ex lover in there somewhere , probably met in that pre-prison childhood phase when he mingled past class lines more ( ~1.5-2 years ago ) . someone he’s healthily fearful of for whatever reason , and maybe a vendetta against the family that scammed his parents out of their business and basically sent his life spiraling . there’s someone who isn’t what they seem --- he doesn’t know who they really are , and maybe they don’t know who he is , either . they’ll learn eventually . someone he’s protective over , someone who protects him in ways he doesn’t even know , and those he looks after because they grew up on the same side . desperate for connection , desperate for a place , he finds it all in heaven and hell .

#neongraves:intro #. 𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐘𝐔 ➤ DEVELOPMENT .#this is A Lot #but i had so many notes for myself #let's see how this pans #chaos reigns always

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