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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Emotion (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Kakashi again...can't get enough of this mans tbh. U r an empath due to your kekkei genkai and Kakashi has always been difficult to read. Friend to lovers. Sharing one bed folks, we got some steamyyy shit here. Angst warning as well.

Word count: 6000

He was always alone. Ever since his childhood, he walked the world completely alone with only a few people there to support him. No mother, no father, no mentor, no teammates. He was at the mercy of fate his entire life, things being stolen from him time and time again.

He just prayed that he could keep her. Y/N L/N, the only woman to have wormed her way into his heart and made a home there.

When they first met, Kakashi and Y/N, she cursed him for being such a weirdo. Apparently his mind was empty and his heart was seemingly full of sand. He was conditioned that way, and that is how he lived for the longest time. It wasn't a surprise for him to hear that.

But she thought it was stranger than anything she'd ever seen, and so she followed him. She would figure him out, bring him back down to Earth from his supposed high horse. That woman was determined, and frankly he didn't mind her being around. She was quiet enough that it didn't matter. Not to mention on the missions they had together, she was quite the partner.

Over time, she'd learned to read him like a book. It was part of her clan's kekkei genkai. The ultimate empath, I suppose. The ability to read a persons every single emotion and then turn that, if they so choose, into power.

She was never the greatest fighter, but her negotiation skills were the best they could possibly be. She would dive into the emotions of another and manipulate them backwards and forwards to get what she wanted.

It was overwhelming, walking into a room of people and immediately being bombarded with so many feelings coming at her all at once. Occasionally, if the situation was bad enough she'd have to take a seat and clear her mind, organizing each person in her mind like a filing cabinet of empathy.

But damn, did she try to weasel out every bit of feeling she could. It was just something that came so naturally, she couldn’t help but instigate whatever was brewing up inside him.

"Kakashi, if you're happy, you know you're allowed to express it. You don't have to hide it away," she told him, staring at the masked man sitting across from her at the table. He was watching as she sharpened her kunai, and she could feel the content running off his body in small bursts. He was feeling better. Better than he had in a little while. Of course she picked up on it.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She was always reading him, he knew that. He just preferred when she refrained from mentioning it. It did, most times, feel like a bit of an invasion of privacy, how she could deep dive into the corners of his mind. There were things no one else could ever possibly know that she did. It was strange, but he was used to it.

"What? Want me to smile or something?"

"No, but you should let yourself go. Just drop the facade."

"Stop doing that. Getting into my head."

Quietly, she set down her blade and picked up the next one, taking a cloth and softly wiping away any dirt. Her eyes slide up to his for a moment, her all knowing gaze filling his vision. "It's basically impossible. Especially if you're the only one around. There's nothing else to focus on except you." He knew that. It wasn't like she had an on or off switch. That was the downside of this dojutsu. Unlike sharingan and byakugan users, hers was always pulling the strings of her brain.

"You've got that mission next week. With Naruto and a few of the other kids, right?"

"Yes."

"It's A rank, isn't it?"

She hummed in agreement. He had a habit of knowing about all her missions, more importantly being the dangerous ones. He wasn't necessarily scared for her, probably not. He was more cautious than anything. There was this nagging feeling in his head that he shouldn't let her go on these missions alone. That it was too dangerous for her to handle.

But he was wrong. She was stronger than he thought, and could hold her own in battle. He was just a worrier. He'd just lost too many, seen too many bodies in front of his eyes to trust. God, he wanted to trust her, but he couldn't. She was too vulnerable. His friend, one of the only ones who hadn't died yet. For all he knew, her days numbered, that's how paranoid he was about everything.

"You'll be careful?"

"That's a silly question." He gave her a look that said he was more serious than anything, and she sighed. "Of course I'll be careful. I have people that would miss me if I wasn't." He was one of them. She could sense his fear whenever she said goodbye and his relief when she returned. He really tried to remain objective, but his heart said otherwise.

And she would be a liar to say that she did not experience the same relief seeing him come home from missions, even if he was beaten and bruised to the bone, she was just happy he made it back. So many never got to come home. It was a sick world, they lived in, but she could relish in the little comforts.

"Don't worry about me. I'll always turn out fine. It's you and your dumb students we have to worry about."

"I hear you. Those kids are enough to drive a person mad." He rested his chin in his palm, the mere thought of those kids causing his blood pressure to rise.

"Thankfully my students never gave me any trouble. Sweet little things."

"Well, aren't you just lucky, Y/N?"

"What can I say? Kurenai and I got the luck of the draw with our students. You men had it rough, I have to admit," she laughed. It was funny that he was so unfortunate to have gotten assigned the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, two completely opposite but persistent forces. "Despite your perverted tendencies and your perpetual lateness, you still did a great job teaching them."

"Thanks. But do you really have to call me a pervert? I'm really not."

"Yeah? That explains why you read porn in public. Admit you're a pervert, you dumb old man."

"We're the same age-" he began to argue, but she just cut him off with her harsh words.

"Creep," she muttered, running the sharpening stone along her blade. He narrowed his eyes. She was being awfully annoying, and he knew she could sense his irritation building up. Yet she continued just to be a pain in the ass.

He warned, "Hey. Watch it, L/N."

"Okay, okay, I'll stop...Pervert." She ducked her head when his hand reached out to wring her around the neck for being so frustrating, and she continued to laugh. It was nice, having a friend she could joke with and be around without having to worry about what she said. He might pretend to be mad, but she could feel the happiness still rolling off his body thickly under all that fake neutrality.

He was happier than he'd been in a long while, and she found herself swelling with pride knowing that she might have helped make that happen. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles as she peered back up at him, and he found himself smiling back even if it was just through the mask.

He swore in that moment, he'd make sure Y/N didn't end up like all the others. She would live. He'd break this wretched curse just for her. He was sure of it.

______

"How could you be so reckless?! Do you want to die?" Kakashi shouted at his friend who could only stand there angrily, arms crossed over her chest and one foot in the other direction. She didn't need to be lectured by someone who took just as many risks every single mission as she did.

"Kakashi, I really don't want to hear it. You have no idea how it went."

"Yeah but Naruto does, and we were just talking."

She placed her free hand over her chest and exclaimed even angrier than before, "You're going to trust a kid over me? Naruto even?" It was just low to trust Naruto when she was right there to explain herself. Just let her speak for once, she wanted to say but he of course, had something else to say.

He waved his arm toward the ramen shop, eyes glaring. "Don’t be rude. He's right there. What is wrong with you?"

Indeed, Naruto was sitting inside Ichiraku with Jiraiya at his side, munching on pork ramen while the pair fought outside. Kakashi was eating with them, taking a break from his work to just relax with his master and student when out of the corner of his eye he noticed Y/N stumbling down the street on her crutch.

He heard when she got back home that she was in the infirmary for a couple days. He had no idea for what reason until Naruto explained to him what happened. She was being needlessly reckless on the battlefield, relying too much on her kekkei genkai and not enough on her brain. She threw herself right in the way of an enemy, for what reason, he didn't know. All he knew was that she could have died and she didn't seem to care one bit.

Rightfully so, he was mad. Normally he preferred not to make a scene in the open like this, but there wasn't anyone else around and he was red-hot.

She huffed. "He knows I don't mean anything bad by that. How could he not? I'm also his sensei, you know."

"Doesn't matter," Kakashi brushed off her words. "What you did was dangerous and you don't seem to care. Next time what are you gonna do? Run right into the arms of the enemy?"

"No, I would never. Kakashi, you're just being a jerk right now. I'm literally injured from the hip down and you have to yell at me? Jeez, just be grateful I'm alive, okay? Things happen," she tried to reason with him, but he didn't acknowledge it. He wasn't exactly feeling all that rational.

"Things don't just happen like that."

She groaned, "Well apparently they do, because it happened to me."

His eye narrowed and she noticed the way he clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times by his sides. Clearly he was just trying to channel his anger, but he really had no reason to be so upset. She hadn't done anything to him. He really needed to relax. "This is so like you L/N's. Always so emotional. Always thinking you're stronger than you actually are."

"Excuse you-"

"Get a grip, you aren't going to live forever."

"First off, don't interrupt me. Second, don't talk about my clan ever again, you hear me, Hatake? We don't live to please your dumbass," she cursed, how dare he say shit about her clan. That asshole. He was just being so...so unlike himself. She had no idea what had gotten into him, but she hated it and just wanted to continue on her way before he said something else stupid.

Normally, she didn't expect to be bombarded in the street nearly the second she leaves the hospital, but Kakashi never fails to surprise her.

"I've got to go. Don't bother following me." With that, she took off past him, rushing as fast as she could on her crutch, which was pathetically slow. Silently, she cringed at how ridiculous she must look waddling around like this in a fit of rage. Nevermind that. She had better things to do.

He huffed out the breath he had been holding to walk back into the ramen shop, taking his seat beside Naruto and slouching down into the stool. Immediately, Master Jiraiya met his eyes, wisdom about to drip from his tongue once again. "You need to go apologize."

"Why? She clearly doesn't want that right now."

"Well, to start, you insulted her clan which is a big no-no. Imagine saying that to an Uchiha. You're lucky she let you off so easily."

"Yeah, Kakashi. You kinda just attacked her out there in the street," Naruto added.

Jiraiya continued, "Mainly though, the longer you let her stay angry, the worse it'll be for you in the end. Trust me."

"She said don't follow her."

"And you're actually going to listen?" The older man laughed. "You and her fighting reminded me a lot of young Tsunade and I. And let me tell you, you don't just let a woman like that go. I sure did. It’s not a fun time."

"Yeah, Kakashi sensei, go find Y/N."

The jounin stood from his stool and slapped a ramen voucher onto the counter top to pay for his meal. This really didn't seem like a good idea, he had to admit. But he would trust the process. This was the author of his favorite romance series, after all. How could he get something like this wrong? To put blind faith into Jiraiya on realistic romantic matters was probably the not the wisest thing to do, but it was the only thing he had to go on. "I'll go, but this doesn't sound like good advice."

"If you let this go, she's might run into the arms of another man for comfort. Do you want that?"

Tch, there was no way she was gonna do that. She barely had any friends. If anything she would go see Kurenai. Still, he pulled back the cloth at the entrance and muttered, "I gotta catch up to her."

"'Atta boy," Jiraiya cheered, waving off the copy nin. "Another bowl, Naruto?"

"Yes, please!"

Kakashi walked down the streets, looking for the woman he was sent on a mission to find and apologize to. He searched through the shops and the stands for her, walked by her apartment no sign of her. It wasn't until he stumbled by the bookstore that he found her eyeing down the display out front, leaning comfortably on her crutch.

"Y/N," he called to her, and he watched as she tensed up without a second. He caught up to her, walking to stand beside her in front of the store windows. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" She questioned, peering over at him with a quirked brow. He seemed calmed down by now. Thankfully. "Also, didn't I tell you not to follow me?"

"You did, but Jiraiya told me to apologize."

"So this isn't even on your own accord, you're doing it because Jiraiya told you so." He groaned. Of course she would twist his words and find some way to make things bad on his end. She was angry with him, what did he expect to happen? Her to accept him with open arms?

"Listen, I'm sorry for yelling at you. I was just overwhelmed."

"With what? I wasn't paying attention to anything but the anger." She picked at her finger nails in an attempt to remain casual, but really she was just itching to hear what he had to say. She was willing to give him a second chance, only because he was normally so sweet. This was just out of character for him.

He replied, "I was scared for you. Naruto told me about how you nearly died, and I was upset that you did that. I was upset because I could only think about what if you had been overpowered and the enemy killed you." His explanation was weak, but he hoped she would accept it as truth. He really wasn't lying. When he heard she was in the hospital indefinitely, he nearly had a heart attack himself. He worried for her every time she left on a mission without him. It just meant that if she failed, he wasn't there to protect her himself. He couldn't handle that thought.

"So you were worried?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's sweet of you, isn't it?"

"I'd miss you, you know. If you died."

She froze. That wasn't what she expected him to say. When she looked over at him, he was just staring into the storefront window, but she could feel the sadness in waves running off his body. She wobbled around on her crutch to face him, a hand getting coming up to rest on his shoulder. "It's okay."

"I don't want you going on missions without me because every time it scares the shit out of me thinking they'll bring you back dead. Every time. I don't know why."

"It's normal to worry for your teammates."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"Ah." And she felt it. Even if it was just a little hint of something, she felt his infatuation roll off his body and she took it in like a drink of cold water. So refreshing. Was he attracted to her? She had no idea before this that he cared so much but from the sound of it, he had some strong feelings attached. She wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him it was going to be okay, but that felt too personal. Instead, she leant back and muttered, "You know, Kakashi, I worry about you too."

"It's good we both have someone who cares, right?"

"Right."

"Well, I should be on my way, but, uh, if you need some help getting up to your apartment-"

"I should be fine."

"Okay, good."

"Yeah, so uh, see you," she turned on her heel and started heading in the other direction toward her home when suddenly, his hand reached out to stop her.

"Wait, Y/N. I think..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I need you. Please be careful from now on."

She stopped, turning around just enough to get a good look at his face. He only watched her, a glimmer of something she didn't recognize in his eye.

"As long as you take care of yourself too, Mister."

"Y/N, I…"

All she could feel was a rough fabric rubbing against her face for a second before the full picture came into view.

Mask to lips. I repeat, mask to lips.

She stared at him, as he kissed her right there in front of their favorite bookstore. When he pulled away after a second, he seemed just as shocked as she was. She pressed a hand to her forehead and struggled to find the right words to say.

Kakashi Hatake just kissed her.

And she definitely liked it. More than any other kiss she’d ever had before. She loved it. Mask or not, that was one of the best surprises of her entire life, and she honestly had no idea how to react. She settled for the easiest possible thing, running in the opposite direction, give herself time to think over what that meant for the two of them if anything at all. Kakashi wasn’t the type to have a girlfriend, he was always single. There just wasn’t room in his life for her.

There was plenty room in her life to fit him in comfortably. And there was more than enough room in her bed as well.

Flustered, with heat coming to sit in her cheeks and run up her neck, she turned and motioned in the direction of her home. She just had too many thoughts to sit here and pretend she wasn’t dying inside from the tension.

"I've got to run home now," she managed to say. "Well, not run, with these crutches and all, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I should be going too. I'll see you around,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.

"See you."

And into separate directions they went, just as confused as ever.

______

"Kakashi, I swear to God, if you don't stay on your side of the bed, I'm gonna-

"You'll what? Hit me? Go ahead. You're the one that keeps snoring."

"Shut up!" she exclaimed, rolling over in the bed and planting her fist directly in the middle of his chest. He didn't even flinch, she hadn't meant to hurt him anyway. She was just so annoyed. You would think that the stoic Hatake would be easy to sleep beside but no, he was a pain in the ass. He was rude. He was way too hot under the sheets. He still smelled like dog even after taking a bath. Just overall a bad experience, definitely 0 out of 10.

"What? It's the truth."

She groaned, throwing one of her arms over her eyes, burying her nose in the crook of her elbow. "Whatever. Don't ever mention my snoring again. It’s embarrassing me." She was self-conscious. She was usually so good at maintaining a cool and calm presence and now Kakashi was seeing that all crumble. Great.

"Fine."

"Can't you just stay on your side so we can both sleep comfortably?"

"Can't you just stop snoring so I can sleep comfortably?"

What a bastard. She could practically feel him snickering beneath his mask, and she felt frustration bubbling up in her chest. He was annoying. The audacity of this man, laughing and causing trouble in the night when they clearly had a mission to continue tomorrow. She could actually feel the delight radiating off his form.

She jumped up from her spot and threw herself onto the man beside her, attempting to make a vicious grab for the throat so she could maybe shut him up for just a few seconds. He dodged easily, taking her wrists in his calloused hand and lowering them to rest on his chest. Still, he continued to laugh at her. She felt like an utter joke sitting there on his stomach, looking at him through loose strands of her hair.

She grumbled under her breath, her cheeks puffing out full of embarrassment, "Stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Look at you."

She replied swiftly, "What about me? You're the one with that ugly grin on your face." Quickly, she snatched her hands out from under his to cross her arms over her chest. She rocked back a bit on her knees to get a better look at his indeed ugly face.

Except he definitely wasn't ugly, and that grin was more devilishly handsome than anything else. And honestly, she felt herself starting to get flustered in the position she'd put herself in. Of course she didn't hate Kakashi. He was one of her friends and coworkers. It was just that sometimes he could be casually attractive and she found herself falling under his spell.

He just looked so fucking good lying there, staring up at her with a glimmer in his dark eyes. She could see the smile outlined under his mask. His hands had felt warm and firm around her own fingers. She missed his touch, there she said it, any touch on her body from Kakashi Hatake felt like heaven. He was far too cute, and the soft contact between them drove her crazy.

She wanted to punch herself for thinking such silly things. This was Kakashi, one of her frenemies. Not boyfriend material. Stupid. Silly.

If only he didn't look so good, Jesus christ. Get your brain out of the gutter, Y/N.

Little did she know, his mind was already waist deep in those damn gutters and he was loving it.

"You really think that?"

"What? That you're ugly?" She asked, tilting her head to the side just a bit as if to think about it. Only a second later, another mischievous smile crossed her lips. "Of course."

He lifted his fingers to slid along her waist and down to her hips, fingers curling ever so slightly around her curves. She shuddered as his hands slid down to hold the sides of her bare thighs in his hands, his warm, strong hands with the softest fingertips. She wanted to die.

Had they kissed before? Yes. We're they somewhat romantically involved? Maybe. Did that give him any good reason to rest his rough hands on her thighs like that? Probably, and her thoughts were running a mile a minute at this point.

"Kakashi...stop that," she said softly, her voice lowering from how it was before. She suddenly felt a lot smaller, scared even. Hooking up with Kakashi wasn't something she planned on doing anytime in the near future, if at all. He was her friend, and she felt strange sitting in his lap with his hands all over her. It felt so right but wrong at the same time, like she was breaking the law. Well, laws of friendship that is.

She cared about Kakashi, more than she wanted to admit. He wasn't just a friend, he was something weirdly in between and she couldn't exactly put her finger on how she felt about him. All she knew was that if she was going to have sex with this man, it would be the right way. They would have to date first. She wasn't just gonna sleep around this time. He was different.

She wanted to impress him, to make him smile and laugh, to take him out to dinner and hold hands on their way home, to kiss at her doorstep. She wanted all of that before any of this.

His hands dropped from her sides and she crawled away from him, grabbing her blanket and cradling herself in it. "Listen, Y/N, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I know, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

It was quiet. Just the sounds of both their breaths filling the air and the crickets chirping in the darkness outside. She shifted in her blanket to rest her head on the wall, leaning against it with her shoulder. He remained on his back, staring up at the empty ceiling tiles.

It was now so terribly awkward. Thanks, Y/N.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You, uh, don't snore all that much. I was just teasing you."

"Thanks," she exhaled. "You're not as ugly as I said."

"I know."

Wow, Kakashi. So modest.

Her words fell right into place as she spoke, emotions slipping out with each breath. She looked at his profile in the dark, the way his bedhead stood on end, his nose pointed upward and his lips sat calmly, the curve of his chin under the edge of his mask, the way his eyes just sat there unmoving and gentle, brows soft above the eye. She took in all of him as she confessed, "I just don't want it to be like this. I don't want to fall for you this way."

"I get it."

"I just think that you and I could be something different. You're not like the other guys to me, at least, I don't think of you that way," she took a deep breath. He still stared deep in the ceiling, and somehow it made her comfortable enough to confess everything she'd been feeling. It was as if he could just lay there and listen without words forever. "I don't want you to just fuck me before we really...well I don't know, we've never even been on a date. I...I think I'm ready to fall in love with you."

"Then let's do it."

She peered over at him, lips agape with surprise. She hadn't expected much at all, but certainly not that. "What?"

"When we get back to the village, I'll take you on a date, more if things go well. We can take it as slow as you want," he told her, turning to lay on his side, facing her. He watched as she cuddled further into the comforter, only a peek of her face in his view. She was actually kinda cute through all those worn and torn layers. "I don't think I can let you go this time."

"Really?"

"Anything for you."

She ducked her head down to stare at the hardwood beneath her feet. She was overwhelmed by how nice he was being. Normally, it didn't go like this. Things normally got sexual so quick there wasn't even a chance for these sorts of conversations. It was just different with Kakashi. She could say no to him and expect better, because she knew he could deliver. "No one has ever treated me like this before."

He smiled. "Well, it's about time someone did."

"Can you hold me?"

"Come on." He lifted his arm up with the covers attached so she could crawl over and burrow herself next him, tucked right against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her close to his chest. Things were looking good for the both of them. Better than they had in a long time.

He wished this kind of thing could last forever. The beating of her heart, the laughter in her voice, the shine in her eyes. He just wished he could have bottled it all up and held it close to him for the rest of his life.

But he waited too long, and the opportunity slipped from his grasp.

______

The pair fought hard. Kakashi was better than her, everyone knew that. The enemy targeted her for that reason. It was clear as day that she was important to Kakashi, and the enemy quickly caught onto that. He was quick to bring the knife to her neck, pressing the woman’s back tightly to his chest. The blade stung her skin, already piercing the flesh from the bit of pressure he applied.

She cried out, feeling a trail of blood begin running down her neck. Her nails clawed at his arm, desperate to get him to release her from his clutches, but he persisted. One hand held onto her chin tightly, keeping her face from thrashing, and the other continued to apply more and more pressure into the blade.

For the first time in a long time, she found herself feeling unrestricted fear. She was scared. Scared for her life. She’d never been in this situation before, feeling so completely and utterly helpless like a deer caught in the headlights. Kakashi was right there, she should have known everything was going to be okay. After all, she had the village’s strongest veteran on her side.

It wasn’t the pain that caused the tears to bubble up in the corners of her eyes, no, it was Kakashi. The way his eyes darted over to the them, and she could feel his heart beginning to race, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, and the fear creeping up into his heart. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He was so closed off, sometimes she could only get a wisp of emotion from him, especially the ones that showed such vulnerability.

Now it all seemed to come tumbling out like a landslide. She was drowning in fear, his and her own.

“Let her go,” he called out, practically pleading with the man across from him, but it was in vain.

“Like I’d listen to some filthy leaf shinobi,” the spy replied angrily. He felt so hot, burning up with so much anger she wanted to throw up. What had they done to upset him this badly? Her jaw was starting to ache from being held so tightly, and she swore she could taste blood running down her throat. This was bad. This was so terribly, miserably bad.

Kakashi stood there, his hands hovering at his sides, unknowing of what to do. She was already bleeding out all over the collar of her shirt. If he made a single move, the man could easily finish the job with one fatal swipe. The copy nin felt cornered. Hopeless. What was there left to do? He’d let the love of his life fall in the hands of some petty criminal.

Come on, think of something. Anything. Just think of something.

“What? You upset I’ve got your little girlfriend here?”

God, he was so desperate. The man taunting him didn’t help at all. He just felt himself spiralling deeper into hopelessness. He bargained, “Please, just let her go. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

It wouldn’t work though. This man was set in his ways, and there was no changing that. He came into this fight knowing exactly what he wanted to do. And he was going to finish the job.

“This is for what you shinobi have done to my people,” he sneered before she felt the knife dip further into her neck, sliding painfully across her throat. He dropped her head from his grasp, and as soon as he had, her body crumbled down to the ground. She collapsed in a bleeding heap on the dirt.

The criminal quickly ran into the forest behind them, getting lost among the trees and the bushes within seconds. None of that mattered though. Kakashi could only run over to her limp body lying there on the ground, sputtering and coughing on thick blood filling her throat and lungs. Her cheeks and lips painted red now from spitting so much up. He fell to his knees beside her body, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a tear drip down his face.

She cried, hot tears running down her cheeks into the dirt on either side of her head. She cried for her pathetic self, having been attacked and injured in this way. She cried for Kakashi, feeling the pain and sadness, the panic, radiating off his form. She took in every emotion he was feeling, wanting to savor being with him for as long as she had, to fully take him in one last time.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay,” he whispered, his hands running over her hair and cheek, smearing blood on her skin and his fingers. “We’ll bring you back to the village. The Hokage can fix you.” His words were so soft into the air, like if he spoke any louder he would hurt her.

They both knew that none of what he was saying was true. She was as good as dead.

She lifted her hand weakly to sit on his other hand. “I…” The woman took a labored breath.. “Love you, Kashi.”

“No, no, no. Don’t say that,” he hushed her, feeling his heart grow heavier in his chest with every second that passed, every look at her bloody neck and face, her laboring chest as she took hopeless breaths. He was falling apart in this moment, desperate for fate to change, for her to magically be better. He choked, “You can’t die, Y/N.”

“It’s okay.” Her words were slurred and hard to hear, liquid bubbling up in her throat to the point she was almost incomprehensible. “I love you,” she confessed once again. She wanted those to be her last ever words to him, the words he would remember for the rest of his life. To know someone out there loved him more than anything else.

He had to know that he was her everything. He was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she was going to miss him so terribly wherever her soul went after this. She just wished there was more time to tell him everything she felt. Yet, time was passing faster than she thought, and all those words felt impossible.

“I love you, too. You have to live for me. Just keep breathing, it's going to be okay.”

“It...hurts.”

More misery erupted his chest, and he found himself wanting to scream. Tears dripped steadily down both his cheeks now as he watched this woman die in front of him, one of the only people he truly needed in his life. “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry I let this happen to you.”

She nodded faintly, her eyes beginning to close. He was starting to panic. Was this his last moment to say goodbye? Their time together was so short, how was this fair? He’d already lost everyone he ever cared about, and now this? He felt like the gods were laughing down at him and his misfortune.

“You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t know how I’ll do this without you.”

She didn’t respond, but she was still breathing.

“Y/N, please.”

And he watched as her chest fell still and her labored breaths were silent on his ears. He found himself gathering her form up against his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his neck, just sobbing into her hair, weeping for a long lasting love gone in an instant.

He carried her body home that day himself. Something he never anticipated happening, but should have prepared for. He always thought he was going to watch as someone else carried her home to him, death long gone before he had the chance to see. He never thought it would be right in front of him. He thought he could protect her, save her from the clutches of fate. He was so wrong.

Kakashi was alone once again.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #x reader #naruto #kakashi imagine #kakashi fanfic #kakashi one shot #naruto imagine #naruto oneshot #naruto fanfic #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x you

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

AU where the Nie clan has dragon blood in their lineage, and usually it just manifests as bad temper and a generally martial inclination. Except, once in a rare while, generations apart, an actual dragon will be born among them... (aka nobody really expected that NHS was the latest Nie dragon).

The Nie sect’s ancestors were butchers; that lowly heritage is well known and widely celebrated, much to the not-entirely-concealed disdain of some of the more refined, gentlemanly sects. Butchers at home and butchers at war – everyone knows that.

What’s rather less well known is that the third sect leader, colloquially known among his descendants as ‘that idiot’, rather heroically saved an imperial princess in battle and then – and this was why he was that idiot – married her. She was a proper princess, too, the true-born daughter of the emperor; other sects might see that as a good thing, since for all that cultivation sects saw themselves as being above petty things like the politics of the common folk, a princess was still a princess.

The Nie did not.

The reason for this was quite simple. What does a cultivation style that already incorporates an increased chance of death through anger most assuredly does not need?

The blood of the eight-clawed dragon, that’s what.

Arrogant, explosive, unruly –

It was a mess.

The sixth sect leader came up with the saber halls to honor his father and grandfather – most especially his grandfather, who’d had a bad tendency towards slit-pupiled eyes when he’d been especially enraged, and whose saber had absorbed every ounce of his ferocity – and the next few generations made a point of finding especially meek daughters or sons for their children to marry, and that was that; everyone hoped that that idiot’s mistake could be diluted out of existence.

It was, for the most part.

But every few generations, imperial blood ran true, and not only in terms of majesty or arrogance, and then the entire sect had to close its doors to the outside world and pretend with all their might that no, of course there wasn’t a rampaging beast of an especially draconic variety raging behind the extremely sturdy walls of the Unclean Realm, what nonsense that would be.

Still, if Lao Nie had to wager on one of his children being a dragon, he probably would have put money on it being his firstborn: already far too tall for his age, a brilliant prodigy with his saber, and a temper that rivaled some of the older members of the clan.

Certainly not Huaisang.

The only time that child hadn’t been a disappointment was when he was a baby: he’d been remarkably lazy even back then, sleeping more hours of the day than he didn’t even past infancy, and what had been a relief to his nursemaids quickly turned to annoyance by everyone else. It was commonly believed that such a weak and unlively child was likely to grow up to be slow-witted and dull, and, worse, the doctors confirmed his muscle tone was underdeveloped; even with a great deal of practice, he would likely always be a bit behind those his own age.

As he grew older, his penchant of sleeping twenty hours out of every day got even more noticeable, and the family largely lost interest.

Well, most of them. His older brother, who’d quietly taken on the responsibility for caring for Huaisang when no one else in the family had had the time or, truthfully, the interest in the disappointing son of an especially fortunate (unfortunate?) family maid-turned-concubine, indulged him far too much, even carrying him from place to place.

“You’re not a mule, Mingjue,” Lao Nie scolded one day, reinforcing the lesson through swipes of the flat of his saber. “Have some dignity! If Huaisang wants to go places, he can damn well walk there himself!”

Nie Mingjue bowed his head, obedient and filial in every way except for the fact that he didn’t listen; if anything, it got even worse from that point on, the boy barely being seen anywhere without a napping toddler as an accoutrement.

“Did you hear what I said?” Lao Nie roared at him.

“I’m not a mule,” Nie Mingjue recited. “If he wants to go places, he can walk there himself.”

“If you heard me and persisted regardless, you’re undisciplined,” Lao Nie said, arms crossed.

“I accept whatever punishment is appropriate,” Nie Mingjue said, and that was most irritating of all: why would his otherwise perfect eldest son insisted on being beaten once a week when all he had to do was leave that useless lump behind in his rooms, where he’d be happier anyway? It wasn’t as though Nie Huaisang even wanted to be outside: sometimes it seemed he’d only learned to talk in order to complain about how uncomfortable he was, how hot, how sweaty – and he even had the gall to keep complaining even after his older brother fetched a fan for him, like a loyal dog.

Discipline was paramount in the Nie sect; to be undisciplined is to risk being monstrous, and with their cultivation style they could not tolerate such a thing. That was why their punishments were so strict, even if the rules were relatively sparse - more principle than rule, really. But on the other hand, their family had always been the sort that would rather break than bend: if Nie Mingjue wanted to pay for his willfulness by accepting punishments, he was entitled to do so.

Still – there was punishment, and there was wanton cruelty; at some point, one of the men in the punishment hall abandoned the former for the latter. He was a popular man, the son of another sect’s diplomat that had married a close cousin of the main family and stayed in Qinghe; for some reason he’d developed an intense dislike of Nie Mingjue – a dislike which was mutual, and likely to cause trouble in the future when Nie MIngjue became Sect Leader, but which currently put Nie MIngjue in a very bad position given the man’s status as his elder.

Lao Nie only learned about the whole matter much later, and when he did he was so spitting mad he grabbed his saber and would have spitted the man on it, cousin or no cousin, if he hadn’t been held back; but at the time he had no idea, busy as he was defending the borders of his lands against troubles caused by that ever-smiling bastard Wen Ruohan.

When he did hear about it, though, he was infuriated: his son and heir had been beaten three times the usual amount, a compilation of a thousand little offenses that could only technically be termed breaches of discipline, forced to complete several dozen of their most demanding exercises, and then made to kneel outside on the hottest day of the year; to no one’s surprise, he had eventually collapsed rather than yield and beg for mercy, his skin cracking and lips starting to bleed as his consciousness left him.

He was after all a Nie.

Who knows how far that bastard might have gone, his eyes fixed on a prize he would never inherit with his outsider’s surname, if Nie Huaisang hadn’t been there, tucked away curled up underneath a shady tree and made to watch despite Nie Mingjue’s request that he be sent back to his rooms.

Those who were near enough to see – and Lao Nie had plans to punish the whole lot of them for not having interfered: what was the point of a clan motto that prioritized justice and suppression of evil no matter what the consequences if they would allow it to happen in their own damn home? – said that it didn’t happen at once, that there was a pause when Nie Mingjue’s body hit the ground; perhaps it was only that Nie Huaisang was slow to realized what was happening.

Perhaps it just took a while for the change to happen.

Either way, everyone agreed on what happened next: the unfurling of a serpentine body twice the length of a fully grown man, although only about as wide around as a goat, a red-eyed glare that was backed with teeth and claw, and a roar of challenge at anyone who even thought about pulling Nie Mingjue’s body away from the center of those coils.

Apparently Nie Huaisang had needed all that sleep because he was still growing. Who would have known?

It was the youngest full transformation they’d ever had in their clan by far. The boy hadn’t even reached the age of three!

“If he’s stopped sweating, he has heatstroke,” Lao Nie told his apparently not useless younger son, having been urgently summoned to the training field. “He needs to be taken inside at once; you’re only making things worse.”

Nie Huaisang bared his teeth at him, and Lao Nie bared his teeth right back.

He might not be a dragon, but his son’s blood had come from somewhere.

“I am your father,” he snarled. “You will listen to me and obey. You hear me? You will get off of him this instant. If he doesn’t get water soon, he will die.”

Lao Nie will never know if it was the demand for filial piety or the threat to Nie Mingjue’s life that got Nie Huaisang to comply – he suspected the latter – but Nie Huaisang gave in and backed off, allowing the clan’s medics to rush over and take Nie Mingjue away.

Lao Nie looked at the dragon, thinking to himself that the vastness of the underground caverns beneath the Unclean Realm weren’t for nothing: if this was what a two-year-old dragon looked like, he’d be a full-fledged calamity when full grown.

His saber itched in his palm at the thought, but he ignored it. The embarrassing yao-derived portion of their bloodline aside, the Nie sect set itself against evil, and Nie Huaisang was lazy, not evil.

“This is going to be trouble,” he finally said. “It can’t be allowed to get out.”

You can’t go out, he meant, but maybe Nie Huaisang in all his laziness wouldn’t mind being restricted to the Unclean Realm. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could teach him to like paintings and books instead, since he could never be allowed out to join a proper battlefield.

He’d be locked at home forever, unless the Sect Leader decided otherwise - and that meant Lao Nie would be the one responsible for it.

Ancestor or not, damn that idiot.

In the end, Nie Huaisang didn’t respond to him at all, merely took to the air – flying must be inherent, since he didn’t seem especially bothered by what should be something brand new – and headed inwards, aiming towards…

His brother’s bedroom.

Not really a surprise, that.

A bit of a surprise that he could find it so quickly, though, from such an unfamiliar angle…

Lao Nie’s eye twitched.

If his stubborn older son had known about this, he was going to wish he’d died of heatstroke.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #my fic #my fics #dragons #oneiriad #not my usual backstory for the Nie sect #but hey #gotta have those dragons #dragon nhs

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nblenasabrewing · 4 years

Text

Does Lena have PTSD?

This excellent post from @drummergirl231-2 goes into a detailed analysis about Della and the examples showing possible PTSD. I, being who I am, wanted to look at the same for Lena. Full credit goes to them for the idea and format!

According to the DSM-5, in order for a person to be diagnosed with PTSD, they must have a certain number of symptoms from eight categories: Criteria A through H.

For a diagnosis of PTSD, someone needs: to meet Criterion A to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion B to have at least 1 symptom from Criterion C to have at least 2 symptoms from Criterion D to have at least 2 Symptoms from Criterion E to meet Criteria F, G, and H

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional. I do NOT have a degree in anything related to psychology and simply enjoy dissecting the layers of a fictional character. If you feel you fit any of the criteria, please see a professional for a real diagnosis. This isn’t something that can be easily self-diagnosed, and a professional diagnosis would open you to more opportunities for help.

Lena does and doesn’t fit the criteria in general for PTSD. She’s certainly suffered from traumatic events, but the event is more... her entire life. She’s a classic child abuse victim, which makes her more of a candidate for C-PTSD.

Complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD; also known as complex trauma disorder) is a psychological disorder that can develop in response to prolonged, repeated experience of interpersonal trauma in a context in which the individual has little or no chance of escape. Being stuck with Magica for fifteen years absolutely contributes to Lena’s current issues. C-PTSD and PTSD share similarities, there are a distinct differences - mainly that PTSD focuses on one event and the effect it has on a person long term, while C-PTSD focuses on years of repeated trauma. However, there’s no approved criterion yet for C-PTSD. So I’m using the PTSD criterion with some added explanation where C-PTSD would be applicable.

Criterion A: The traumatic event

A person must be exposed to one or more events involving threatened or actual death, threatened or actual serious injury, or threatened or actual sexual violation in one of the following ways:

Direct involvement

Witnessing the event happen to someone else

Hearing about it happen to a loved one

Repeatedly hearing details about traumatic events, such as police officers repeatedly hearing stories of abuse

The obvious example here: Lena effectively died. Twice. Following that, she was trapped in a realm where she couldn’t be seen or heard by anyone and she couldn’t touch anything for six months (give or take). Her first interaction with anything since she had been trapped there was smacking the Boggle case in Friendship Hates Magic! And even she’s surprised by that.

In addition, she spent fifteen years with Magica in her shadow, who effectively acted as an abusive parental figure. She’s proven to be an expert in gaslighting, and knows exactly how to manipulate Lena - by hanging the promise of freedom over her head and reminding her repeatedly that people will think she’s a monster if they find out the truth about her.

Criterion B: Intrusive Symptoms

Expected or unexpected reoccurring, involuntary, and intrusive upsetting memories

Repeated nightmares related to the traumatic event

Some form of dissociation, such as flashbacks, where the individual truly feels the traumatic event is happening again

Strong emotional distress when exposed to internal or external triggers associated with the traumatic event

Strong bodily reactions (such as rapid heart rate) when exposed to reminders of the traumatic event.

Nightmares: While we can’t say for absolute sure that Lena has nightmares outside of Magica’s influence via the helmet in NOKH, the fact that no one is surprised by her nightmares does seem to imply that’s she probably had more than she’s letting on. Lena’s biggest fear is turning into Magica, after all - it’s no surprise she would have dreams along that line.

Emotional distress, strong bodily reactions: These really come out in Violet’s library, when Lena gets overwhelmed and tries to hide. The fish-eye view of everyone trying to talk to her while she sees Magica over their shoulders was most likely meant to imply she was having at least the start of a panic attack.

In addition, her reaction to Webby calling her (looking like Magica) a monster was pretty extreme. Again, the dream world setting makes things a bit wobbly, but given everything we know about Lena up to this point, and the fact that she yelled at Magica for saying they’re both monsters, it feels safe to assume she’d be angry and upset and scared if anyone ever called her a monster (again, something Magica constantly used against her.)

Criterion C: Avoidance

An individual with PTSD will frequently avoid reminders of the traumatic event in one of the following ways:

Avoiding thoughts, feelings, or physical sensations that trigger memories of the traumatic event

Avoiding people, places, conversations, activities, objects, or situations that bring up memories of the traumatic event

Whether the nightmares were caused by Magica or not, their effect on Lena is real and pretty easy to see. She sets up an entire sleepover just so the kids can help keep her awake. Avoiding sleep to avoid nightmares is pretty extreme.

She also continues to keep secrets from everyone despite Webby’s constant reassurances that they all care about her and don’t think she’s anything like Magica, because the alternative is having to talk about it or worse, have her fears confirmed.

Criterion D: Negative changes in thoughts and mood

The inability to remember important details of the traumatic event

Persistent and elevated negative thoughts about oneself, others, or the world

Exaggerated self-blame or blame of others for the cause or consequence of the traumatic event

Pervasive negative emotional state (anger, fear, shame, etc.)

Loss of interest in previously enjoyed activities

Feeling isolated or detached from others

Difficulty experiencing positive emotions

Lena’s opinion of herself seems to be pretty low. We only get one episode to really see it, but her fear of turning into Magica and active attempts to avoid such an outcome definitely make it seem like she still considers herself “evil”, and is trying to make up for it. She also readily gives in and says, “I am her”, essentially giving up on herself.

The dream adventures also excellently illustrate how Lena feels “Othered” from everyone else - they get butterfly wings, she gets weird monster wings. She falls behind at Dewey High and is separated from the others. She’s the only one in Louie’s dream, aside from Louie himself, to experience any sort of physical change. Even when she tries to be happy with them, she can’t keep up the facade.

And before all of this there’s the classic example of her being jealous of Violet (under the guise of protecting Webby from being tricked again). She immediately assumes the worst of Violet and follows Webby around telling her not to trust Violet.

Criterion E: Alterations in reactivity that started or worsened after the traumatic event

Irritability or aggressive behavior

Impulsive or self-destructive behavior

Hypervigilance (feeling constantly on-guard, or like danger is lurking around every corner)

Heightened startle response

Problems with concentration

Sleep disturbances, such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, or restless sleep

Lena’s personality in season one was mostly that of the sarcastic, irritating cool teenager who can’t be bothered. Under that, she was an unwilling slave to Magica, and while she did show irritable tendencies toward her, those can be forgiven as “Magica is terrible and provokes her.”

Season two, on the other hand, shows us a much different teenager - one who snaps easily and seems constantly frustrated by her own perceived shortcomings. Those emotions, of course, come out on the other kids (i.e. snapping at Huey and Violet). And while all of that can be attributed to her inability to sleep, which is being driven by Magica, Frank’s already said this isn’t the last we’ll see of Lena’s emotoinal growth and negative feelings.

Criterion F: The above symptoms must last for more than one month.

Obviously time is relative in Ducktales. Given everything that was going on around them, we can assume she’s been home for around a month-ish. Donald left for a month-long cruise two episodes before Lena came back, and everything after that has to have taken place within that month or it would have been way too obvious something was up. And again, Frank has said this is going to come up again. But even while she was still in the Shadow Realm, she was showing signs of trauma.

Criterion G: Distress from symptoms significantly impairs the individual’s ability to function in multiple areas of life (social, occupational, etc.).

While we haven’t seen much of Lena’s daily life, we do know a few things - before returning, she was living in Webby’s shadow, presumably following her around and getting comfortable in her shadow-y life. Violet throws a complete monkey wrench into that comfortable life, and Lena reacts... poorly, to say the least. She initially refuses to take responsibility for the tulpas feeding off her own negative feelings, continuing to project all the reasons she hates herself onto Violet (”She’s a spy, she’s a second-rate me,” etc.).

In NoKH we see that the triplets aren’t quite used to the fun, happy persona Lena tries to project, which immediately gets a frustrated yell and fire flaring up. She’s so worried about trying to be Good that her anxiety bubbles over into her life. She’s also constantly keeping secrets, something that is, unfortunately, normal for her, but not normal overall.

Criterion H: The symptoms are not due to substance abuse, medication side-effects, or another condition.

So the real issue comes in here - while there’s no medication or substance abuse, there is an outside force. Most of what we see of Lena’s symptoms are due to increasing sleep deprivation via Magica’s brainwave helmet. By the time NoKH starts she’s already gone at least several days without sleep, and it’s obvious the dreams are deeply affecting to her, to a point where she arranges an entire sleepover with her friends just to keep from going to sleep. There’s no way to know what she was dreaming about (although I have a few theories), but it almost certainly involved Magica, the main cause of her trauma. And we see how understandably upset she gets when she’s finally face to face with Magica.

In conclusion:

Lena is a complicated character with a lot of different factors playing into who she is, but there’s little doubt that after fifteen years of emotional/psychological abuse, two deaths, and six months trapped in what could almost be summarized as an isolation chamber, that Lena has some serious trauma. And while Magica influenced a lot of NOKH, it should also be noted that Magica, as her abuser, most likely acts as her trigger now. She spends the entire dream sequence running away from Magica, terrified to confront her. And while she has an amazing, empowering moment at the end of the episode, I’m sure this is going to come back up again.

(***All GIFs by me)

#Ducktales #Ducktales 2017 #Lena de Spell #Lena le Strange #long post #Sam's Meta #So much went into this #including making those GIFs #I've been working on this for..... several weeks dear god #please show it some love

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paladinwife · 3 years

Note

I'm sure you're already gonna get some but just to be sure, all of the mythology asks for Raiden :> (both of them or either, your choice <3)

Me blasting Rules of Nature as I answer this

Also because this is a lot this will just be Metal Gear Raiden! Baal will have to be separate

Zeus: How did you first meet your f/o(s)? How did you feel about each other at first?

So I’m still working through this, but: my theory is that the people that hurt and nearly killed Elise were involved with the Patriots (not that she knew), and so her pursuing revenge resulted in her basically accidentally walking in on the plot of MGS2. She and Raiden run into each other this way some time shortly after the whole incident with Rose (where, in this timeline, he won’t forgive her and refuses to take her back). After their chance meeting they actually start bonding and see each other more and more.

Hera: How did you first start your romantic relationship with your f/o(s)? How did the way you feel about each other evolve to get to that point?

And this jumps off perfectly from the last question! Like I said, after their meeting, they start getting closer and spending some actual time together. At some point, Raiden realizes he’s following Elise like a puppy, but he’s nervous considering how badly his last romantic relationship went. Eventually, though, his feelings win out and he does approach her about dating, and Elise is happy to accept.

Poseidon: Do you and your f/o(s) like to travel? If so, where do you like to go? Is there anywhere you’d like to go that you haven’t yet?

Raiden and Elise travel a lot for their careers, but I think they really want to travel together. First priority is to go somewhere with a nice beach and just have a relaxing time, I think. But there are so many countries they want to see together when they have the chance.

Demeter: What’s your favorite season, and how do you like to spend that season together?

Elise loves autumn - not only is it her birth month, but the weather is lovely, and she loves to have some tea and enjoy the leaves changing color. Raiden doesn’t have particularly strong feelings on any season, but he appreciates how happy autumn makes his wife, and also that’s it’s Wife Birthday Time. Besides, he has some unfortunate memories associated with spring.

Athena: Are your f/o(s) interested in any particular hobby or interest of yours? Have you taught them about it, or let them watch you, or anything similar?

Elise, particularly after getting some cyborg augmentation in her arms and hands, starts getting really interested in visual art, especially painting. Raiden doesn’t know shit about art, but he knows that what his wife creates is super cool and he’s so proud. Also, Elise is a bit of a fitness buff to try to keep the human parts of her body strong and healthy, and Raiden is more than happy to watch if not join her just for the fun and moral support.

Apollo: What do you like best about your f/o(s)? What does your f/o(s) like best about you?

Ask this question to either of them and their first response will be “everything”. They adore each other. If Elise had to pick one, it would be his strength - not physical (though she is impressed with what he can achieve there), but the fact that he just keeps going despite everything. She had a lot of admiration for him in that regard and does her best to stay strong too. If Raiden had to just choose one, he would choose her heart. Not only is she the first person to treat him kindly and let him just exist as himself, but he sees the kind and gentle way she handles other people. She has a lot of love in her heart for others, and he doesn’t see a lot of that, so he thinks it’s beautiful. Also, he’s quick to add, she’s smart as hell and he admires that so much.

Artemis: Do you have any LGBT+ headcanons for you f/o(s)? Do you share these identities? Feel free to share anything else special about your LGBT+ identities.

They’re both bi as hell. I’m aware that most of Metal Gear is very bi, but Elise and Raiden are both extremely bisexual and love each other in an extremely bisexual way.

Ares: Are you ever protective of your f/o(s)? Are they ever protective of you?

Oh, both. Mutual protectiveness. Raiden being protective of her is obvious, but at any given time Elise is ready to fuck up anyone that would dare hurt him any more. Also they’re both more than ready to fight each other’s shitty exes.

Hephaestus: Do you and your f/o(s) ever like to get gifts for one another? What kind of gifts?

Yes! I’ve previously addressed Raiden’s tendency to get Elise cheesy souvenirs when he travels - he likes getting her little things like that. He also likes picking up things that remind him of her. Elise is also aware of Raiden’s tendency to not get things for himself, but one time she bought him something nice that she thought he’d like and he has treasured it ever since. It’s not about the actual thing, but more about the fact she loves him, right? She also apparently gets him t shirts that say silly things because he loves them.

Aphrodite: How do you and your f/o(s) like to show love to each other? Feel free to include your love languages, if you find that helpful.

Raiden kind of struggles to figure out his own love language and shows love in multiple different ways. I think, though, his primary one is quality time, and he very much appreciates just being around Elise. Second is physical touch, as he ends up really loving giving physical affection to her and the warm feeling of her skin. Elise likewise dabbles in all of them to a degree, but she tends towards acts of service - she will constantly go out of her way for him in a way that isn’t lost on him. She also does have quite the way with words that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy.

Hermes: Was it love at first sight? Slow burn with lots of pining? How fast did your relationship progress?

Raiden fell very very fast. He was like a puppy following her around. In spite of his trauma, or maybe because of it, he melted at her kindness and care right away and couldn’t get enough. Elise was a little slower, but I feel like she was surprised at how fast she fell. They were both careful in progressing the relationship, given their trauma, but it’s hardly a slow burn.

Hestia: What makes you and your f/o(s) feel at home?

Raiden’s answer is Elise herself. Before he met her he didn’t have anything that strongly felt like a home - recall that Rose got mad at him for having a mostly empty bedroom because he didn’t come back to it often. It was Elise being there that made him want to come home more often. It’s less about the location and more about coming back to her, you know? Elise’s answer is actually similar - she’s not from where they live now and has moved around a lot in her life. Her attachment is more with him than to the place.

Dionysus: What do you like to do with your f/o(s) for fun? Is there anything fun you’d like to try with them?

Actually? Watching movies together at home. Raiden has a strong interest in that kind of thing, and watching them at home means he doesn’t have to try to pretend to be “normal” around others, whatever that means. It’s kind of been their thing since their first date. They certainly try lots of fun things together, but that one is special.

Hades: Would you ever consider a pet with your f/o(s)? What kind of pet? If you already have one, what is the pet like?

Honestly he deserves a dog. Again I’m leaning towards a bigger dog, but I think he’d love any dog. Just give this man a dog and he’ll dote on it. I’m particularly fond of a GSD for him because he kind of reminds me of one.

Persephone: How different are you and your f/o(s)? How do you deal with each other’s differences?

Honestly, more similar than you’d think. Aside from some shared trauma, they’re both very strong and persistent, and they’re full of compassion for others. I just think their strengths lie in different places. Really the similarities helped them bond quicker.

Nyx: Do you have any children with your f/o(s)? Would you ever consider children (biological or adopted)?

Well, I’d consider John (normally mothered by Rose, but now mothered by Elise herself) their son. I also made the mistake of referencing “children” to Justice, implying more than one, so uh. Watch this space.

(Thanatos answered here!)

Hypnos: Do you like to sleep together or share a bed with your f/o(s)? If so, what position do you sleep in? Does anyone hog the blankets, or have a stuffed animal, or have nightmares and need the other for comfort? Anything else along those lines?

Anyone who has played MGS2 knows Raiden is not naturally comfortable sleeping with other people. It takes him a while, but he does get to that point with Elise. Even better is that he finds that Elise soothes his insomnia and troubles with nightmares a lot. They tend to sleep hugging each other, by Elise’s request but with his enthusiastic consent.

The Erinyes: How does your f/o (or f/os) respond to someone mistreating you? Do they confront the person? Do they comfort you?

Raiden. Gets. Furious. He can’t stand the thought of someone mistreating his wife. He would fight them if necessary. But at the same time, Elise isn’t that different: hell hath no fury like Elise pissed off that you’re mistreating her husband, who has been through enough.

The Moirai: What is your “happy ending” for your ship? How do you end up? What kind of life do you want together?

It’s for them both to finally be at peace. They’ve been through so much, and now that they have someone that they can truly trust, they can finally let their guards down and just exist peacefully. I think that’s the happy ending for them, regardless of everything else about how they end up.

(Calliope answered here!)

Thalia: Discuss any fluff ideas you have for your ship. What kind of affectionate or sweet scenarios do you like best for this ship?

Raiden really likes holding hands with Elise. Not only is he tickled by how tiny her hands are, but he finds it very soothing. Sometimes it’s hard for him to pretend for the public to be a completely normal un-traumatized person, but her touch and her hand put him at ease. He asks to hold hands with her a lot.

Melpomene: Here’s your dedicated angst question: discuss any angsty or hurt/comfort ideas you have for your ship.

This is hard, since I see this as such a happy ship. But the one thing is: when it comes to their first child, instead of faking a relationship and devastating Raiden, Elise probably tells him what’s going on and goes into hiding to protect her and their child. She probably had to have his first child alone and desperately hope that he would come back to her alive, and that’s a pretty painful thought.

Euterpe: What song(s) suit your ship best? Any particular lyrics that fit well?

From Take My Breath Away, the titular song for the ship:

That’s pretty painful but also very fitting.

Erato: Does any canon ship remind you of your ship (if you like those)? What tropes or ship dynamics apply to your ship?

Remember the girlboss/malewife pair from FMA and how iconic that was? That’s them for sure.

Terpsichore: Have you and your f/o(s) ever danced together? What kind of dancing? Formal dress or completely informal jamming out in your home?

Oh definitely they would. Elise is the only one with formal dance training, but Raiden is a romantic at heart and wants a dance with her, formal or not. I can see them just slow dancing in their house, so happy they’re in love.

#thank you Adrian!#oh goodness this was a lot #ask to tag #take my breath away (with raiden)

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niaxbts · 4 years

Text

Just one more Seokjin

Warning: This one shot is toxic

If someone had asked you 4 years ago that you would divorce the love of your life, you would have sent them to take them for a sack, but everything changed, during your short time married you were sorry that you already knew Seokjin completely since after 7 years of relationship as boyfriends Before getting married, he gave us a deep understanding of our thoughts and feelings, it seemed that after all those love promises made during those long nights they had been a farce.

While you demonstrated to yourself day by day what you wanted before accepting to marry him, you had rejected him twice because of your great fear of marriage. The great persistence of Jin to achieve what he intended was one of the thousands that you loved about him and at the same time you hated being a great weakness, since through it Jin always convinced you to do whatever crazy thing you could think of.

You never wanted to have children; After growing up with a large family that you have a tendency to avoid as much as possible since you know the feeling of being overwhelmed most of the time, bringing a new life simply didn't interest you in the least. Seokjin also knew this: several conversations in the long summer nights had given him several warnings about your position to have children in the future and he had let you know that he was aware of your opinion but his failure was to believe that at Over the years it could make you change your mind about motherhood trying. Unfortunately, kids were just the one thing I couldn't make you change your mind about and that was the trigger for your split 3 years ago.

What you did not expect is that after not knowing anything about each other you were going to find him in that cafeteria so significant for the two of you, when you met at the beginning it was a bit awkward but after he offered to invite you to a coffee to talk about As your lives had changed during those years, you accepted without hesitation for a second, even without knowing that this talk was going to cross your paths again and it was going to be quite difficult to separate again whatever the situation was.

So now, while you were at the end of the bed in that hotel room that you had reserved like every 2 weeks, without even bothering to cover yourself despite the cold you felt that morning, with your legs bent at the knee and your arms wrapped Around them, you looked in the direction of the headboard where said ex-husband rested against a pile of pillows and sheets tangled in his muscular body. Seokjin was looking at you with that expression that you hated as he shouted non-stop those remorse that you felt, Jin had gotten away with it once again, sneaking behind his current wife in the hotel rooms that you were in charge of paying You yourself since he had his money in a joint account with his wife and could not risk her discovering it red-handed. You could only think about how she kept raising her children that he longed for so much and he kept insisting on meeting you.

You didn't know how to escape him, shit, you didn't even know if you wanted to escape him. But being how awful it was (which you would never have believed you could do) you were still afraid that if his current wife found out about your escapades you might have to take care of those children too if you wanted to go back to him again. You didn't react when he sat you on his legs, you didn't make a sound when he started stroking your face with various kisses, and your breathing didn't change when his hands slowly slid down to your belly. You felt guilty; horrible because you were stealing from a man in his family, and in that split second you made a decision about what to do.

-Jin, I don't think we should keep meeting. -You said in a rather serious tone.

-Why? -He said moving away a little to observe your eyes

-Because you have a family at home that loves you. You have children that I am sure they admire you more than they can, children that I could not give you because I did not want to. I don't want to be the person who fucks that family that you have been able to build without me, the one that you wanted so badly.

-Honey, you are not fucking anything, she and the children don't know anything about this. Now we only import the two of us and nobody else, and I don't see that we are in a bad situation right now. Also, I've been thinking for a while that I don't want to be with her anymore, I don't want her, I've never wanted her the way I want you.

-Seokjin you can't say those things, she is the mother of your children, you married her for something.

- But that doesn't change how I can feel! I'm going to divorce her, I've been thinking about doing it for a while ...

Hearing those words your heart and stomach skipped a beat, with a weak voice you asked:

- Does she know what you want to do?

-No, not yet. I had planned to tell him tomorrow.

-I think you're making a mistake, really. It has given you the life you wanted, I am not going to change to give you that.

-I don't care, I already had it decided and it's too late to back down.

-What do you mean Jin?

-My lawyer has already prepared all the papers, he told me this morning that tomorrow I could go for them.

Hey !!!!

I went back to the old ways, I hope you can forgive me for this great hiatus, I hope you will be more active around here again, thank you very much for continuing to support me.

As always I hope you enjoy and avoid this quarantine a bit. How are you all?

Don't forget that in my profile you can ask me for anything you would like me to write.

A very big kiss, I hope you read much more now :)

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Twilight, Eat Your Heart Out

Summary: Pondering your own mortality is never a good long-term solution, especially when you have to compare it to the immortal vampire you’ve found yourself entangled in a relationship with.

Word Count: 4209

A/N: Vampire Michael is back! I hope you enjoy this; feedback is always appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you liked, reblogged, or commented.

Jealousy, in any sense of the word, is not an emotion that you’re very familiar with. Of course, there were occasions throughout school where you felt wrongfully snubbed of an award or a grade, certain that you deserved a higher score. Never before have you been in a relationship where just the mere sight of your lover with another person fills you with self-doubt and envy. You’re better than that; your happiness and sense of fulfillment, you’ve always believed, does not rely on another person. At least, that seemed to be the case before you got yourself entangled with a suave, mysterious Antichrist who just so happens to also be a vampire.

Entering into a relationship (you wouldn’t dare to call him your boyfriend, or even use the word ‘dating’ to describe the odd situation that you’ve found yourself in) with arguably the most dangerous creature in the world was not something you had penciled into your five year plan. Lately, it seems like nothing is going according to the plan that you had meticulously crafted upon graduating college and landing your job at Kineros. You weren’t expecting to have your first bona fide lover, nor did you believe that you would suddenly learn about the warring forces that are essentially playing a game of chess and using humans as the pawns. You also never thought that you would be an accessory to murder.

Multiple murders, at that.

Blood bags don’t satiate Michael, who always complains that blood is so much better when it comes directly from the ‘source.’ In an attempt to quell Michael’s more...sadistic tendencies, you’ve offered to allow him to drink from you whenever he needs to. Shockingly enough, it turns out that even the cruelest of vampires, the one who is arguably the ruler of all others of his species, has a heart when it comes to certain humans. He had explained to you how taking blood from you multiple times a week, no matter how small the amount, would eventually kill you. So here you are, standing in some alleyway acting as the bait for Michael’s next meal.

This routine hasn’t seemed to get any easier since the first time Michael asked you on a hunt with him. Lure in an unsuspecting victim who has less-than-innocent intentions with you, guide them back far enough to where any wayward screams won’t be heard, and let Michael handle the rest. A fairly simple ploy, but one that never failed to have your stomach curdling with some sort of negative emotion. Before tonight, you had never been able to pinpoint what this foreign feeling was.

It’s while you’re watching Michael pin tonight’s prey, a pretty brunette that had been planning on robbing you, against a wall that you start to realize what this might be. The low lighting that the street lamps cast into the alley glints off of his talon ring, which he uses to quickly and precisely slit open the woman’s throat. His hand tangles in her hair, yanking her head back and allowing him to drink deeply from the flowing wound. She moans weakly, pathetically, and you become aware of something else that’s nestled right beside the disgust that forces you to avert your eyes from the gory scene.

You’re jealous. Not only are you jealous, but you’re jealous of the woman that Michael’s currently draining dry. You understand why everything about this situation looks so intimate; Michael’s nature, of course, is seduction. His ethereal beauty and dangerous charm are integral in beguiling his victims, and he’s going to use these weapons to his advantage. Still, the intimacy of this situation has you nearly doubling over in disgust.

Michael, finally satisfied with his meal, carelessly discards the barely-breathing woman on the ground like she’s little more than an empty wrapper. He grins up at you, blood-stained teeth glinting in the light of the moon. Gracefully stepping over the body, he approaches you slowly and fluidly. It’s almost as if he’s a predator stalking his prey, although that isn’t too much of a stretch; you are, after all, human. There’s hardly any mess on his face, always the clean eater.

“You certainly do have a way of picking the most delicious meals for me, pet.” Michael darts his tongue out, licking a few stray drops of blood from his lips before capturing your lips in a kiss. The copper taste of his kisses, while familiar by now, are still something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to. “Shall we be on our way? The night is, after all, still young.”

“Don’t you need to clean up this mess first?” Michael smirks, waving one of his bejeweled hands in the air nonchalantly.

“A simple phone call is all it takes, nothing to worry about.” He slings his arm around you, silver talon coming dangerously close to puncturing your shirt and your shoulder.

As you leave with Michael, you can’t help but cast your glance to the glassy eyes of the corpse that lay sprawled on the ground. Although there’s no sign of life left in her body, you swear you can feel her stare follow you when you round the corner.

This trend continues for the next two weeks, with every feed that you help bring to Michael invoking that same fiery jealousy in the pit of your stomach. These people, you know, are nothing more than food to Michael. But the way that he looks at them right before he strikes, convincing them that they’re safe and to give themselves over to him, makes you realize that you’re not special. That tender look, which you thought was special only to you, is just another play in Michael’s book. Slowly, you start to become aware of the fact that maybe it’s not just jealousy that you feel whenever Michael must partake in a feed.

You’re scared, as well.

Every human that he kills, every possible victim that walks past you when you’re scouting for Michael, reminds you that there is a very thin line separating them from you. You could just as easily be Michael’s next kill, the vampire draining you and leaving your body on the wet pavement with little more than a glance that one might give a dead deer on the side of the road. Michael claims to be fond of you, says that he couldn’t imagine killing you, but you know just how volatile Michael’s kind are. One day he could be your lover, and the next day he could be your killer. It’s a fact that remains in the back of your mind, always making sure you’re alert for any changes in his emotions towards you.

When you meet one of Michael’s oldest friends (both in age and amount of time that they’ve known each other), that fear morphs into dread. The Countess, as she’s known as, owns the Hotel Cortez and uses its’ guests as her food source, which Michael considers to be a genius move. She’s radiant, mysterious, and absolutely gorgeous; you start to wonder if every vampire becomes ethereally beautiful when they’re turned, or if attractiveness is a prerequisite to vampirism. She had appeared suddenly, visiting with Michael in his plush office when you arrived for a “late night of work.” You were stunned by this goddess sitting opposite your lover, the two clutching crystal glasses of blood.

“Elizabeth, allow me to introduce you to (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Michael said warmly, standing with his visitor on his arm. “(Y/N), this is the Countess, my closest confidante for the past hundred years or so.”

She held her hand out for you to take, a talon ring all-too-similar to Michael’s digging into the skin of your wrist when she pulled you towards her. “What a stunning creature you are, my dear.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” you said in a voice an octave higher than your usual, causing Michael and the Countess to have laughed.

“My, my, Michael, it has been quite some time since you’ve found yourself enamoured with a human in this way. Why, the last had to have been Oscar, back in the late eighteen hundreds?” The Countess smiled wistfully. “It always did amuse me, how he would rather come up with the fanatical idea that you had a portrait stashed away somewhere that grew old in your place instead of believing what he had seen to be true.”

You had been jarred out of your semi-stunned state upon the familiarity of this man’s idea. “Wait, are you telling me that Michael once had a relationship with Oscar Wilde?” The two smiled conspiratorially, choosing to remain coyly silent instead of telling you if your suspicion is true.

“My dear Countess, we have not had the chance to reconnect since the turn of the century. For all you know, I could have had a harem of human lovers in that time,” Michael cooed.

“I know you too well for that to be more than a fantasy. Say, has it really been that long since we’ve last seen one another?” The Countess spoke, leaving you mildly upset that the two were basically talking directly above your head.

“Unfortunately.”

The platinum vampire sighed. “Nothing like the rich blood of those who indulged themselves due to their belief that they would die when the calendar changed to the year two thousand. Of course,” she smiled patronizingly at you, “you were hardly more than a babe then, weren’t you?”

You tightly returned her smile as Michael chuckled at his friend’s joke, the two continuing with their reminiscing. Eventually that night, you had left early, feigning exhaustion from a long week in order to get out of the awkward situation. Awkward for you, at least. For the two immortal beings, you’re sure you were little more than a pest, a persistent fly that finally managed to find an exit through a window.

It’s not as if you’re angry that they made fun of your youth. You can’t place the blame on two creatures who have lived hundreds of years combined for picking on how you’ve only existed for a mere blip on their timelines. Instead, the two inadvertently opened your eyes to what lay underneath all of the jealousy. A lingering sadness wraps itself around you, reminding you it’s there from the moment you wake up, and whispering in your ear to lull you to sleep. You’re sure that Michael’s noticed the change in your mood by now, being so attuned to your thoughts and feelings even without the fledgling link that had been created through him consistently feeding from you.

As a person who relies on logic and research, you love facts. With this situation, however, the facts of the matter are not too appealing to analyze. For starters, you like Michael Langdon, a lot more than you’re supposed to. What had started as a simple ‘enemies with benefits’ situation has evolved into something that you never saw coming: your life is now a bad vampire fanfiction. What kind of human falls in love a relationship with a vampire who feeds from them in exchange for immunity and confidential information? You can only pray to whatever’s out there that this affection you’ve developed isn’t sensed by Michael, lest he decide to prey on you even more than he already does.

Even if you didn’t care for Michael like you do, it’s impossible to deny just how introspective you’ve become since meeting the Countess. Maybe it’s because you had been so swept up in the enigma that is Michael, but after he pierced your neck with his fangs while having you pinned against your desk, you sort of forgot about the fact that Michael’s going to remain the same as he’s always been. More specifically, you forgot that you won’t remain the same. It was easy to imagine him as your equal, with you holding the leverage of your tantalizing blood over his head and using that to your advantage. You became an odd team, helping Michael to successfully hunt and kill people whose deaths wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion.

When the Countess reminded you of that fact, of how you came into the picture in what’s essentially the opposite of dog years (does every vampire year equal 70 human years?), it forced that issue of immortality versus mortality to center stage. No matter how your attempt to change the phrase, the words mean the same thing: you are going to grow older and die, while Michael will be the same as he’s always been and continue to go on without you. It’s not as if this is new information for you, considering one of the first things Michael told you was how he’s been on the Earth for over 400 years. It is, however, something you’ve deliberately avoided thinking about while trying to navigate the schematics of suddenly taking up company with a vampire.

Michael could, of course, give you immortality to allow you to live for eternity with him, but who’s to say that he’ll even still continue to tolerate you beyond next month? Immortality is a gift to Michael and his kind, and it’s not a gift to be given out frivolously. All humans are, all you are, at the end of the day, to Michael, is a meal. Nothing more. He could easily decide that he’s bored of you, his new human toy, and drain you of every drop of your blood until you’re just as lifeless as the corpses you’ve watched him devour lately. Humans are expendable, a renewable resource that Michael is determined to cultivate when he brings about the apocalypse in order to fulfill his father’s wishes.

Even if Michael weren’t to get bored of you, it seems like he just brings in a new human to capture his attention until they, too, die. It’s a constantly revolving door of human lovers, you realize, ones who do nothing but serve as distractions for the vampiric Antichrist until the time comes for his ‘mission.’ What makes you better than Oscar Wilde? The man based one of his greatest works on Michael and penned many an eloquent letter for his blond-haired lover, only for said lover to allow him to be exiled and dead from meningitis. If he didn’t want to take the most well-versed and passionate of his lovers to be his eternal companion, what would make him want to take you? You are, after all, a mere researcher at a robotics company whose greatest accomplishment will likely be nothing more than improving sex robots (at least that’s what you tell yourself).

It’s a train of thought that makes you especially melancholic. Why even bother to continue associating with Michael if he’s just going to toss you out like trash when you’re one day old and withered? It’s never good on one’s psyche to ponder mortality for an extended amount of time, but it’s all you can think about whenever you see Michael. So, like any person who’s not good at confronting their emotions would do, you ignore the source of all of this inner turmoil. While that’s easier said than done, all you really have to do is get work done during the day and lock yourself in your house at night. Easy, right?

You’ve managed to exponentially increase your productivity at work during the daytime, eliminating your need to work into the evening hours in an effort to finish your projects. The hardest part is the evening, when you can hear Michael crooning through your apartment door in that honey-laced voice to just let him in, pulling out every pet name in the book in an attempt to persuade you. You almost gave in a couple of nights ago, hand on the doorknob before you stumbled back and hid under the covers in your bedroom. After that night, though, he finally seemed to get the hint and left you alone. You’re lonely, lonelier than you’ve been since you first met Michael, but it’s for the best.

Tonight, it seems as if your week of avoiding interaction with a certain mysterious blond is finally catching up with you. You get home late, the moon already hanging high in the sky by the time you finish getting drinks with a couple of friends. Unlocking your front door, you can immediately tell that something’s off. The window, which was closed before you left, is now open, the curtains billowing inwards. Your heart beats wildly for a few moments, until you catch Michael’s distinctive scent: expensive cologne and something woodsy, both masking the metallic smell of blood that always follows him.

“I know you’re here, Dracula, you big fucking nerd,” you grumble, shutting the door behind you and tossing your keys on the counter.

“Why do you continue to insist on calling me that horrendous nickname?” You can’t see where he’s at, but you can hear his voice coming from somewhere in the kitchen.

“Sorry, Mephistopholes, it won’t happen again.” You only jump slightly when, in a split second, Michael’s got his arms wrapped around you from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question; he knows it just as well as you do.

“And what if I am?”

“Well, I certainly don’t enjoy it. I also don’t like thinking I’ve upset you in some way.” Michael grabs you by your shoulders, spinning you around and backing you against the kitchen counter so he can look at you. “So? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ve just been tired, haven’t really wanted to see anyone lately,” you shrug, staring at the shine on Michael’s shoes. Your eyes widen when his large hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up towards him.

“You know, I don’t tolerate liars, (Y/N). I could very well just read your thoughts to figure out what’s troubling you, but I won’t because you’ve told me how uncomfortable that makes you. So, you can either tell me know, or we can stand here like this until you decide you’re ready to talk like an adult instead of giving me your childish silent treatment,” Michael snaps.

“What if it’s because of your attitude, hm?”

“It’s not,” Michael says with his eyes narrowed, daring you to try and come up with another excuse. “I’m giving you one more chance before my patience runs out, (Y/N).”

“You’re infuriating,” you scoff, pushing him off of you (surprisingly, he lets you) and stalking off towards your bedroom.

“Is it something to do with work? Did one of the victims that you caught for me actually touch you? Did the Countess scare you?” He knows he’s got you when your back stiffens at his last guess, breathing hitching before you walk faster. Unfortunately, due to his speed, Michael’s already sitting perched on your bed by the time you cross into the room. “So the Countess scared you?”

“Shut up about it, please.”

“I’m not going to. I care about you, and I don’t want to see you upset in any way.”

“You care about me?” Michael nods, not sensing the sarcasm in your voice. “Just like you cared about all of your other lovers, who you then cast out and let die when they grew boring to you?”

When you turn around to glare at him, Michael’s already staring at you with those wide blue eyes. Instead of getting angry, or firing back, things you expect him to do, he just reaches out a hand and grabs your own. He remains silent, probably to let you calm down while you continue to throw daggers at him with your eyes, and you allow him to pull you onto his lap.

“Hearing about my previous human lovers frightened you?”

“Not in the sense of, ‘oh, I’m jealous that he’s been with others before me.’ It frightens me how insignificant a role in your eternal life I’ll play,” you confess.

“Why do you believe that?” Michael’s not asking this question to be condescending, you know, but to truly understand the thought process behind your feelings.

“I’m a mere blip on your timeline; I barely take up any space, considering how long you’ve lived and how long you will live. I’m like a fucking baby compared to you, and I truly don’t know anything about the world in the way that you do. Why am I to believe that I’m anything different compared to all of the other human partners you’ve taken? You haven’t turned any of them, and there’s no way that you’ll turn me. Even if you don’t grow tired of me within the next few months, I will grow old and die; it’s inevitable. I’ll die, and you’ll continue on with living.”

“But in the meantime--” you cut Michael off, too fired up to let him speak.

“In the meantime, I’m a meal. That’s all humans are to you and your kind. You can sugarcoat it all you want, say that I’m your ‘lover’ and that you ‘cherish’ me, but at the end of the day, I’m nothing more than a to-go meal for you. Your entire mission is to let Hell rule on Earth, and enslave the best, most tasty humans as your blood bags. Who’s to say that I won’t wake up to you draining me one day? I help you get your meals, but the only thing separating them from me is that I managed to make you laugh long enough to escape death.”

Michael knows that you have some valid points and a right to be upset by them. Tears brim your eyes, but you refuse to allow him to see you cry or show any more vulnerability than you’ve already been forced to. He kisses the back of your hand over and over again, calming you down before he speaks.

“Do you know why I have never turned any of my previous human partners?” You shake your head, shrugging. “It’s because, although I have loved each and every one of them very much, I knew that they were not compatible with eternity. None of them would be able to handle the burden that an immortal life comes with. Sometimes, they also choose to turn down my offer. I have only offered the gift to three people in my lifetime, and all three of them said no.”

“So the Countess…?”

“Is not one of my creations, no. In fact, I have yet to make a creation.”

“Why have they said no, then?”

“There was a man,” Michael says slowly, fondly, “who I was very much enamored with. It was over a hundred years ago, but I can still remember everything about him like it was yesterday. He’s the last mortal I’ve ever offered to turn, and he refused. Said that he didn’t want to live long enough to see what became of his works. He told me that his mortal life was painful enough, and that he rather wouldn’t extend it for an indeterminate amount of time. I was...heartbroken. I vowed that I would never allow myself to get close to a human again, and that I would never offer anyone the gift for as long as I lived.”

“Michael, I’m so sorry.” You reach for his face, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline.

“No need to be sorry, I’ve long since moved on.” He kisses your cheeks, letting his forehead fall against yours. “I didn’t tell you this to get pity from you. I told you this so that you would understand that I don’t treat all humans as my prey. I have a...talent, if you will, a sort of night vision for the soul. I can see exactly who each person truly is, no matter how they try to hide it.”

“So I passed that test, then?”

Michael chuckles, “you did, and so has every human I’ve ever been fond of. I can’t promise you much: eternity, that I’ll be the lover you need me to be, or even regular dates. But I can promise you that, no matter what happens, you will always hold a special place in my heart.”

“Right next to Oscar Wilde?” you prod with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Hypothetically, if I had been in a relationship with Oscar Wilde, then yes.” He’s deliberately careful with how he chooses his words, enjoying stringing you out on this mystery.

“Thank you,” you kiss him softly. “I’m sorry for being annoying lately.”

“You weren’t annoying, not in the slightest.” Michael shifts you on his lap, so you’re now straddling him. “Are you feeling better now?”

“I am.”

“Good, I can’t stand to see you upset.” His fangs are peeking over the top of his full bottom lip, and you grin before lightly touching the point.

“Are you hungry? It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve fed from me, we should be good.” You start to sweep your hair away from your neck, but Michael stops you.

“I am hungry, but it’s a...different type of hunger,” he alludes, making your face heat up as he rapidly changes positions so you’re lying on your back. “Let me show you just how special you are to me, darling.”

//////////////////////

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noirxxholic · 4 years

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Whumpmas In July 6: “Water”

So FIRST OF ALL, this is based on a prompt I saw one million years ago, and I CAN’T FIND IT. So apologies to whatever wonderful whumper once wrote a prompt about the villain collapsing on the hero’s doorstep, telling them “I had nowhere else to go.” Here’s my very belated take on it, for an also-belated @whumpmasinjuly day 6.

Contains: Lady Whump, Villain Whump, Hypothermia, Implied Sexual Assault, PTSD, Trauma Bonding, And Of Course Drugs

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It was Mid-November now. A few days before the fourth anniversary of the day Gretchen had kidnapped him, the moment that marked the jagged break between his past and his present. Two weeks after their most recent interaction, a fiasco that ended with a dozen mobsters dead and Archie in the hospital with a gunshot wound -- his first, surprisingly enough, considering how many other injuries he had survived so far. Recovering under the eagle eyes of Henry and Susan and Fergus had been a nightmare, with all of them hellbent on keeping him from relapsing no matter how much he argued that he had literally been shot and how on earth could that not be enough of a reason to make an exception. But they had finally let him out of the hospital, and he had finally convinced them that he didn’t need them hovering over him every second of the day, and he was finally alone.

And he could finally get high.

It was a miracle that nobody had gone through his bloodstained clothes, rolled up and stuffed in a plastic bag to take home from the hospital like the world’s worst souvenir. So when Susan finally left and he ripped open the bag and dug through the ruined fabric, the illicit bottle of Oxycodone was still there, in the jacket pocket. He had only taken a few that night, and they were so small and packed so tightly there must be nearly a hundred still. He took three, stretched out on the couch, and was floating blissfully away from himself when he heard the knock at the door.

It took a minute for Archie to identify the sound as a knock, and not just because he was spaced out. It was more of a dull and uneven thud than the sharp noise of a usual knock, and after the first sound there was nothing at all for thirty seconds. It was a wet night, as most nights were in Portland in November, and he thought maybe it was thunder or a fallen branch or just the rain itself, which had its own personality and could be as obnoxiously persistent as Susan sometimes. But then the noise happened again, and this time it came two times in a row, and he was sure it was at the door, not the window, and he was sure it was an intentional, human noise.

This presented its own set of problems. What he wanted was to ignore it until whoever it was went away. Unfortunately, people had a tendency to assume he was in trouble if he didn’t respond to them right away, and at this point he couldn’t really blame them for that. So he had to deal with this, whoever it was, and if he wanted to avoid another stint in rehab he had to deal with it while acting convincingly sober. Great.

After grabbing the prescription bottle off the coffee table and stuffing it under the couch cushions, Archie made his way across what felt like a mile-wide expanse of carpet to the door, and clutched the handle for dear life until he could focus his eyes and at least mostly focus his mind on reality, holding onto it like an eel as it kept trying to wriggle away in different directions.

He opened the door.

She must have been supporting herself entirely by leaning on the door, because as soon as it swung open she collapsed, falling forward into the room. Archie managed, barely, to catch her, so that she slumped against him instead of hitting the floor. He kept her mostly upright with an arm around her waist and one around her shoulders, while her head lolled against his shoulder. He pulled her inside and kicked the door closed behind them. A glance toward the couch convinced him it was much too far for him to lug her there, when it had felt like an epic journey just to get himself from there to the door. Instead he lowered her as gently as he could to lie on the carpet in front of the door, kneeling beside her.

“Gretchen?” She was drenched -- and now he was too, just from holding her briefly -- and shivering wildly. No surprise -- she was wearing a thin, short, white dress, practically transparent and clinging to her, enough to show that she really was wearing nothing but that -- but even Archie was able to ignore the effect of that in the face of how badly she was doing. Her hair was a matted nest full of twigs and leaves. The rain was torrential, sure, but this couldn’t be just from the rain. Had she been in the river?

Almost every inch of skin was purple and yellow and green with bruises and spattered with mud and with blood -- hers? someone else’s? There was no way to tell with the mess that she was. But that wasn’t nearly as concerning to him as the cold and the wet, the shivering and the shallowness of her breathing and the lack of any response to his voice. He cupped a hand around one of hers and touched her cheek. Fuck -- she was ice-cold. “Sweetheart, are you with me?”

He shouldn’t have called her that. Not when he was actually worried about her, not when the catch in his fractured voice made it sound like he actually cared. He said it all the time, but always ironically. At least he could blame it on the pills.

Regardless, it must have worked, must have cut through her numbness. Her eyes fluttered open -- of course they did, of course even in this condition her eyes would flutter open like Sleeping Beauty’s, startlingly blue and clear. “Darling. . . I didn’t. . .“ her lips were almost as blue as her eyes, and they weren’t moving easily, so her speech came out heavy, muddy and slurred almost too much to understand. But Archie was used to focusing his whole attention on her, her words were too often a key to life or death, so he picked out the fumbling syllables easily. “I didn’t know where else to go. . . .”

“It’s okay -- you’re okay, I’m here.” He was suddenly intensely grateful for, of all things, that awful winter when the river flooded. It had given him enough experience with hypothermia that he knew everything he needed to do, nearly on autopilot. “We just need to get you out of your wet clothes and dried off and wrapped up warm.”

“Sounds like you’re just trying to get me into bed,” she mumbled, eyes drifting shut again.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He wasn’t sure if she was joking or if she was just too out of it to understand the reality of the situation. She was half-right though, bed would be the easiest place to get her warm. “If I help you, do you think you can you make it there?” It was farther than the couch, but if she could make it there, he wasn’t going to let the few extra feet stop him.

“Uh huh,” she said, not very convincingly.

“Okay. Sitting up first.” He tucked his hands under her shoulders and pulled her up to a sitting position. She leaned drunkenly against him. This was not a good start. “Standing now, okay?”

“Mm hm.”

He got his feet under him and helped her wrap his arms around his neck -- none of her limbs were moving well on their own. But they made it up, somehow, and down the short hall to the bedroom, Gretchen leaning heavily enough on him so that he was half-carrying her. She sat on the bed, managing to stay upright, though swaying.

“Okay, we have to get this off of you.” It was only as he reached to get her out of the waterlogged dress that he realized it was the same faux-blood-spattered nurse costume she had been wearing on Halloween. What the hell happened to her? But it wasn’t time for that. He reached around her to unzip the dress, but she flinched violently away from him, shaking her head wildly, eyes open wide in fear.

“No.”

She spit it out sharp and clear and commanding, in a weird contrast to her fearful reaction. Archie pulled his hands away like he had touched a hot stove, completely overloaded by the bizarre contrast of responses. The fear was something he had never seen from her, terrifyingly out of character, but the snap of the “No” was a warning tone he had learned -- painfully -- to obey.

“Gretchen,” he tried, speaking softly, keeping his distance. “I'm not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help. You came here because you knew I would help. But you have to take that off to get warm. I can lend you clothes -- they won’t fit and they won’t be pretty, but they’ll be warm and dry. Okay?”

She stayed frozen still for a moment, then seemed to thaw, little by little, and finally nodded.

“Can I take it off now?”

She nodded again.

He moved closer again, cautiously, and carefully moved her hair out of the way to test whether touching her was actually safe. She stayed still -- well, as still as she could while shivering -- as he unzipped the costume dress, then peeled it up off her legs and over her head.

She was in worse shape even than he had thought. The bruising was worse along her chest, around her neck, on her thighs. There were probably a couple of broken ribs, at least.

His feelings weren’t completely compassionate, though. It was nice, in a way, to see her hurt in a way that had actually managed to cut through her usual cool demeanor, and it was even better to see her naked and vulnerable and needing him. Disgusted with himself, he kept his eyes averted as he dried her hair with the towel by touch and pressed it carefully against her skin, knowing that rubbing could make the situation worse, though he couldn’t remember exactly why. Finally he helped her into a T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants with a drawstring tie that could hold them on despite how big they were on her.

“Okay, now is the part where I get you in bed,” he said as he pulled back the covers. She gave him a cursory smile at that as she lay down and huddled into the blankets as he tucked them around her.

“Do you -- do you have any pills?” Her voice was hesitant -- embarassed? Archie couldn’t quite believe that, but that was certainly what it sounded like.

“Yeah -- but I don’t think you should take them, they can mess up your heat regulation --”

A dry, cracked laugh burst out of her throat, turning quickly into a cough. “You have no room to talk,” she said once the cough had died down. “Give me the pills.”

The trek back to the living room didn’t seem as long as it had before -- either his own pills were starting to wear off, or he was just able to focus better through the haze when it was for a purpose. He retrieved the pills from the couch and ran warm water into a glass before taking them back to her. He supported her to sit up just enough to take the pills, tapped two out into his hand and tried to hand them to her, but her hands were still shaking and her fingers wouldn’t move. She shook her head and stuck out her tongue. He laid the pills on her tongue and held the glass to her lips, working hard not to start shaking himself and spill it all over her, as a hundred memories crashed into him of times when these roles had been reversed, when she had fed him pills whether he wanted them or not, or held a cup for him to drink to wash down a burning spoonfull of drain cleaner.

As a reward for not having a panic attack over a glass of water, Archie took another pill himself as soon as she was finished. He sat on the edge of the bed, a hand resting on top of the covers on her shoulder, and they stayed in comfortable silence for a minute. Long enough for him to start thinking that, now that she was safe and not going to die of hypothermia, he should start thinking about how to get her locked up. There were handcuffs in the drawer of the nightstand; if she was as impaired as she seemed it wouldn’t be hard to get them on her --

“Darling?” Her voice was faint, but it pulled him back from his vague planning to the here and now. “Will you hold me?”

Archie looked at her long and hard, trying to read some kind of mischief in her expression. But she only looked cold and hurt and scared. He rubbed his face and sighed. “Yeah, why not.” He slipped under the covers and she shifted so he could put an arm under her, and she tucked herself up against him, head pillowed on his chest. She was still cold enough to make him shiver too, and he gasped aloud when she slipped an icy hand under his shirt. He started to protest -- holding her was one thing, but this was going too far -- but she slid her hand up, across the patchwork of scar tissue she had made of his stomach, up to rest over the heart she had cut into his chest. She let out a contented sigh and relaxed against him, palm resting still against his chest. His protests died half-voiced. It was comforting to her, he realized, grounding, to be able to touch her work. It was fucked up, but if it helped, he wasn’t going to take it away from her.

“Promise you won’t kill me in my sleep,” he murmured.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Fair enough.”

#whumpmasinjuly #whumpmas in july #heartsick #beauty killer #gretchen lowell #archie sheridan

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aqvarius · 5 years

Text

[WALKTHROUGH + REVIEW + CG] Romance MD: Munechika Takado

Expectations:

To be honest I wasn’t super excited when I saw the trailer for Romance MD. I thought it was just going to be another teacher/student romance with the basic Voltage storylines where one or two events would get closer and they’d fall in love etc.). That being said, I was actually quite interested in most of the potential LIs even though they do seem quite conventional for the standard Voltage lineup (oresama, kuudere, darudere/4D, flirty, jokey but actually hardcore ossan). I do also like the character designs. The one I was most interested in was Kyogoku because I can’t place his type. He’s been described as a prodigy, not too empathetic, feisty, cute, has a chilly side, tricky, coy, shady, obsessed with Kasumi. So I think he’s actually one of those devil with an angel face types? Cute on the surface but actually a bit shady? Maybe it’s because of his character design but he just reminds me SO much of Shinonome from Her Love in the Force. I keep calling him Ayumu because of that and I think it would be interesting if they were actually similar because Ayumu is one of those characters that I think is quite unusual for Voltage games because he doesn’t completely fit into one of their usual archetypes.

Anyway, this is not about Sen. This is about Takado. I knew he was the title character for Romance MD but I still had all of my fingers crossed that we would get someone else’s route first like Finally in Love Again had Aki as the first release rather than Momoi (I think?). And some other games had title characters that weren’t the usual type (like Issei from Kiss of Revenge and Masaomi from Serendipity Next Door). I also think that the only characters released so far are Takado and Hosho (I’ve searched and searched to get CGs or ameblo posts about the other guys but to no avail). So I kinda hoped they would give us Hosho first LOL or maybe just surprise us all and give us Kasumi but alas.

Finally, my expectations going in were that Takado was going to be the quintessential oresama type (like Eisuke/Leon) because he has that spiky brown hair look lol? I also thought the MC was going to be like the standard MC. What a fool I was…

Click below to read the full review, plus walkthrough and CGs PLUS THE ELUSIVE MC SPRITE.

Reactions:

My first reaction is that this MC (henceforth Dr. MC) is so annoying. She wouldn’t stop running her mouth, she was arrogant, she seemed a little inconsistent? The guys accuse her of being a journal junkie at the beginning and to be honest, they’re kind of right. She’s super nerdy to the point where it’s kind of over the top? Don’t get me wrong, nerds are great. I’m a researcher. I moved to a new city to study under my academic crush too. I get it. Sometimes other MCs are annoying because they’re too wholesome and earnest. This time, it got to the point where I was begging to have OG MC traits back. I almost cried with relief when I first saw her demonstrate empathy.

I think the thing that made me dislike her almost immediately was how clinically she originally described the ICU team. It sort of felt like Voltage was trying to push the ‘these guys are beautiful!’ and the ‘Dr. MC doesn’t give a fuck about real men’ points too hard and it sort of became contradictory, especially because the narrative is read through the player’s/MC’s perspective. So she had to explain how ‘objectively’ good looking they all are without gushing and thus it became this very clinical expression of their looks while also really pushing that opposing point of “but I don’t care around real men”. I think that it would have been fine for MC to appreciate how good looking they are but sort of have a ‘snap out of it’/’pull yourself together’ moment where she reminds herself what she’s here for. Like I think it’s fine and probably in fact more relatable to be able to acknowledge handsome men and be a bookworm/academically inclined and also enjoy 2D men lol. You don’t have to treat people like specimens MC

(Just say he’s beautiful. We all know he is)

I get that they needed her to be special in some way so Matsunaga would hire her, but she could have gotten hired on talent alone. I don’t think they needed her to be all like “this kabedon does absolutely nothing to me”. Overall I think her being totally uninterested in dating doesn’t quite mesh from the perspective of the player. I’m assuming most of us play otome games because we’re interested in dating the characters or seeing them fall in love, right? The game tried to be meta and make fun of the shoujo manga/otoge tropes at least three times (e.g. kabedon, cooking for LI when they’re sick and getting close, wiping tears leading to a kiss) but honestly, I play these games to experience all that cheesy shit lol. So for me I didn’t think it was particularly clever to reference these tropes and play them off. The audience tends to play these games for these moments lmao? Right?

(I agree, Takado.)

The one thing that all Voltage MCs have, however, is persistence. And my God does Dr. MC have persistence in spades. I actually didn’t mind it too much but I think it’s because it was sort of turned into a bit of a joke so the humour kind of played a role in tamping down what might have otherwise been obnoxious (when she kept waking Takado up I was like omg just LET! HIM! SLEEP!). I do also like that Dr. MC is very competent. Her shortcomings don’t have anything to do with technical ability which is quite refreshing. In this game, Dr. MC is more just inexperienced and idealistic when it comes to the actual practice of medicine and its accompanying emotional (and otherwise) complications.

The thing that I feel is her biggest flaw is her arrogance. I know, right? A Voltage MC, arrogant?! It’s unthinkable!! Usually Voltage MCs are insecure, self-deprecating, self-doubting. At times they are competent enough, or have moments of inspiration that allow them to do well. This Dr. MC is clever, and she knows it. Unfortunately, just having read lots of journals does not a good doctor make. Luckily, she becomes more likable when she finally gets taken down a peg and actually starts listening to Takado. I feel like Voltage tried to switch up their MC personalities (as seen with Masquerade Kiss too) but I think they tried to make Dr. MC snarky and sassy but she just comes across as arrogant/rude a lot of the time, like have some respect for your seniors please. When it comes to backtalking MCs, I much prefer Ayumu’s or Toma’s (from Irresistible Mistakes) MC. But at least Dr. MC is not as awful as Luke Foster’s MC in Kissed by the Baddest Bidder. Luke’s MC is my least favourite of all time and I honestly think he needs to leave her.

Also! I think with the JP version, you can choose whether or not to have the MC sprite. In the Love 365 version, you aren’t given that choice but the elusive MC sprite does pop up randomly in one frame.

(Tbh I prefer it without the sprite bc her hair reminds me of 2015/2016 me lol)

Her interactions with the other doctors is quite enjoyable, particularly with Kyogoku and Hosho, although I have to admit they’re enjoyable because Kyogoku and Hosho are really fun. I especially enjoyed with Ekuni joined in and did like the little snippets of Kasumi time you get as well. I do wish there was more time spent in the Pen (with Kalmia!) but alas, you get what you can. Kyogoku seems nicer than I expected he would be (because I really thought he would be Ayumu 2.0 – maybe he will be in his own route, but he does come off nicer than that snarky devil Ayumu). Kasumi also seems less cold than I expected. Hosho and Matsunaga were basically how I thought they would be, and Ekuni too to some extent, although I wasn’t expecting Ekuni to be such a mum and give them custom drug cocktails to pump them full of nutrients lol. I want Ekuni (my future husband) route so badly. I’m going to end up with a whole folder of images of him with that internal dialogue board lol. I did enjoy some of her conversation with Sex Maniac/resident slut Hosho (when his route comes out I won’t forget that he went on a date with Sara from Cardio………..) as well but I feel like Dr. MC doesn’t react enough to be more interesting? I know I sound like a typical Voltage LI, you know when they’re always telling MC she’s interesting cause her face shows everything she’s thinking and they like her reactions? That me lmao. But when she does react, she overreacts. Like, she doesn’t react to intimate/sexual things but then she FLIPS OUT because Takado was AWOL for literally a day and she thinks he died. You know what, he wasn’t even AWOL, he was literally on his day off. Take a chill pill, Dr. MC - maybe Ekuni can whip up a special sedative blend for you.

Now, Takado… Takado is basically Kaga from Her Love in the Force as a doctor. Sadist, reputation as a murderer, relies on his intuition, has a violent tendency with MC, misunderstood but doesn’t care. His version of Kaga’s Iron Claw is hitting you on the back of the head, usually with a file. I really thought he was going to be an oresama type but he’s more of the rogue sadist type. I thought he was not that interesting until I finally got to chapter 17. Naturally he’s ~damaged~ lmao. But actually I enjoyed learning about his backstory. I expected him to be so bonesaw-happy because he hadn’t acted quickly enough in the past and it led to someone’s death that could have been prevented if he’d just taken their limb. The truth is actually quite a bit more complicated than that, so I did like that it wasn’t predictable. I won’t spoil his backstory but it was definitely an interesting take on the doctor-patient relationship and worked well to help Dr. MC overcome her naïveté. I will say that I feel like the number of amputations actually increased throughout the route lmao.

Speaking of HLITF, the route definitely took on an action spin that I wasn’t expecting. I was surprised that Romance MD is categorised in the Action section in Love 365 but I think the story ended up going in a direction that I’d expect from HLITF or MSB (or Metro PD? I haven’t played that though so idk) and it was quite thrilling and surprisingly dramatic. Also, as per usual, the gap moe is real with Takado. Voltage loves employing gap moe with their characters, but especially the oresama and stoic types.

Additional note: Something I really hate about Love Choice is that a lot of the time the LI backstory is hidden in a heart scene and you can only find out the truth if you pay for it. However, the route reverts back to the main text so it seems like you (MC) know what’s happened even if you (the player) don’t.

The dynamic between Takado and Dr. MC actually ends up being quite fun even though sometimes I think Dr. MC is just being disrespectful. They bicker like an old married couple. It’s like what Kaga and MC would be like if she ever dared to speak up against him lol. Takado is like Kaga in that he expresses his love more through actions. Honestly I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the moment he started to fall for Dr. MC even if you had a syringe of poison to my jugular. You basically only find out that he treats you differently because the other doctors have a grand old time teasing you about it. That being said, there are some nice scenes where you can spot Takado treating you specially if you squint a little. It’s fine that it’s not obvious; I think it would be out of character if he just confessed his feelings lol. Personally, I believe this is a marketing trick to get you to buy Takado PoV when it comes out.

The length of the stories (30 chapters) and the pacing did remind me of old school Voltage games which I liked. It was long enough to develop Takado, his backstory and have a plot with sufficient plot points. The length also gave the blooming relationship between Takado and Dr. MC enough time to mature without feeling too rushed. While I think this improves the story quality, it also really seems like a moneymaking ploy. That being said, at least they didn’t split the story up into two parts like HLITF 🙃.

I reread my old route reviews to remind myself how to review and I said that Goto’s route in My Sweet Bodyguard was not worth the £2.49 I spent on it. I can’t believe I only had to spend £2.49!! Regular routes in Love 365 are 400 coins which equates to £3.99 and I easily spent around £15+ on all the hearts needed for this lengthy LC route 😭. Obviously it would be even costlier if you needed to buy passes if you wanted to unlock chapters early. I didn’t keep track of how many hearts in total I spent but this ameblog says that you need 207 hearts to get all the heart scenes which translates to about £21 if you start with 0 hearts, which is honestly ridiculous. The same money could be spent on FIVE main routes (or other 400 coin stories). Or FOUR full bundles (MS, epilogue, sequel, sequel epilogue) from Seduced in the Sleepless City (i.e. sixteen stories). Or THREE full bundles from Pirates in Love. Or basically every available route for Subaru, Goto, Ishigami or Kurosawa in MSB.

So while you do get quite a lot of content, it is ridiculously expensive if you wanted Super Happy Ending. Don’t skip the heart scene in chapter 28 if you don’t want to miss a kiss scene. Chapter 7 “Apologize to Takado” doesn’t offer too much I believe. Chapter 22 “Ask for details” and 26 “Explain” options also don’t add too much imo. There are a total of 30 points available, so you can skip 5 points worth of heart scenes if you want SHE but don’t want to spend all those hearts.

You may like this route if you like rogue characters like Kaga and Shin from Pirates in Love. If you are really interested and are willing to pay, I suggest playing before 12/08 (12 August) to get the collector’s edition so at least it won’t feel like a waste of money. I really wish Voltage would get rid of Love Choice and just let us buy routes, but they likely never will because they probably earn so much more with LC compared to regular routes. The normal ending is good enough honestly, he actually confesses in NE and not in SHE, but in SHE you get a kiss scene and CG. I think ultimately it would be more worth saving up your hearts for another LI like Kyogoku lol... or Kasumi (but not my future husband Ekuni because I can already tell that I want him all for myself).

I forgot to make note of how many hearts each heart scene costs before I spent the hearts unfortunately so I’m just taking the word of the blogger who says it costs 207 in total. I know there quite a few options that require ~20 hearts.

ETA: I went through my heart spending history and found the prices of each heart scene

Walkthrough and CGs below:

25 points to Super Happy Ending

Ch 1

Observe Help Takado (Love Meter +1/CG) 5 hearts

Ch 2

Wait till later. Flip back the covers.

Ch 3

Missy Takado

Ch 4

“This isn’t a conversation.” “You’re missing the point.”

Ch 5

Ignore him. “It’s not every little thing.’”

Ch 6

Apologize Offer an excuse.

Ch 7

Don’t apologize to Takado. Apologize to Takado (Love Meter +2) 8 hearts

Ch 8

“Teach me!” “What’s got you in a snit?”

Ch 9

“I’m not ready to die!” “I value my time, you know!” (pick this one to see Kasumi being funny)

Ch 10

Stick a hand on the wall. Lean on Takado (Love Meter +1) 10 hearts

Ch 11

A scalpel. An aspirator (Love Meter +3) 13 hearts

Ch 12

Tail him. Chase him and shout

Ch 13

Ask Takado. Ask Kasumi.

Ch 14

Don’t ask. “I want to know.” (Love Meter +1) (pick this one if you want to hear about Takado’s backstory. If you select “Don’t ask” the first time, they will ask you again if you want to know and it costs 15 hearts)

Ch 15

Ask about the Pen. Ask about Takado. (Love Meter +1) 8 hearts

Ch 16

My duty as a doctor compelled me. I was worried about him. (Love Meter +2) 10 hearts

Ch 17

Avoid his potential wrath. Ask. (Love Meter +3) (pick this one to hear Takado’s full backstory) 15 hearts

Ch 18

Go back to sleep. Carefully sit up (Love Meter +1/CG) 13 hearts

Ch 19

Stay silent, like Takado Defend Takado

Ch 20

Stay out of it Insist on examining the woman (Love Meter +2) 10 hearts

Ch 21

“And then they’d kiss.” “And it’d get all tragic.”

Ch 22

Ignore him Ask for details (Love Meter +1) 10 hearts

Ch 23

Give up for now Talk to Takado again (Love Meter +3) 20 hearts (fml)

Ch 24

“I’m off.” “Dr. Takado…”

Ch 25

Don’t go. Follow Takado.

Ch 26

Feel sorry for him.14 hearts Explain. (Love Meter +2)

Ch 27

“No need.” “Tell me, then.” (Love Meter +1/CG) 15 hearts

Ch 28

Get some sleep. Stay with Takado (Love Meter +3) (kiss scene) 19 hearts

Ch 29

Call Dr. Kasumi. Don’t call him yet. (Love Meter +3) (if you choose to call Kasumi, you get a second chance to not call him which costs 22 hearts fml. If you don’t call him, you get quite a cute scene with the iCU team)

#romance md #romance md: always on call #rmdaoc #munechika takado #voltage inc #otome blog #review #otome game #voltage otome #otome romance #walkthrough #otome walkthrough #love 365 #love choice #voltage

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notbigondoors · 4 years

Note

Hi Vis! I've been reading Frankenstein to prepare my essay about it and I find some similarities between you and the creature. You're both artificial beings, yet innocent and pure of heart when you're "newborns". You are some sort of modern Frankenstein creation. Have you read the novel? I think it could comfort you when you feel like humans reject you- they're just ignorant and prejudiced. (Hope this serves the mun for inspiration or starters- I absolutely headcanon that Vis loves this novel!)

“I have read Mary Shelley’s novel, yes. It was recommended to me by Miss Romanoff and it has quickly become one of my favorites. I cannot say that it was overly entertaining or enjoyable in the sense that I found parts of it to be incredibly sad and unfortunate, but it was a very well-constructed piece in that it displays both Frankenstein and his creation in all their flawed glory as two imperfect beings, and yet the one that is dubbed a monster is actually the least selfish and the least scientifically and psychologically reckless of the two.

“This irony was not lost on me, nor were the similarities between the Creature and I. One person’s creature is a another’s vision. Some might say I am a creature. Some might say that the Creature was Frankenstein’s vision. I do empathize with his struggles, both physical and mental, with his loneliness and frustration, and with the disconnect between the way he relates to human beings and the way they perceive him. His view of himself is far different than how others see him, and because of that he feels not only alone and unwanted and unloved, but invalidated as well.

“I feel... fortunate... in a way... to not have some of his flaws and unfortunate circumstances which made attempts at integration into human society all the more difficult for him. For example, his very body is constructed from the dead, which I feel carries with it an instant taboo or revulsion for most humans before they even get to know him, and that is through absolutely no fault of his own. I, on the other hand, have the benefit of being constructed from new and advanced materials that are either respected by the scientific and medical communities or carry with them a pleasant mystique among humans not in scientific or medical fields.

“Also, whether biological, psychological, or merely a question of a lack of impulse control as physio-chemically dictated in his brain, the Creature suffers from a volatile temper and tendency towards violence. I feel it may not entirely be his fault, especially at first, since it does seem to be an impulse he has legitimate trouble controlling. His physical body is also mismatched and strange to him, and for example his handling of the child he accidentally kills seems to be an honest and tragic mistake on his part. The screaming upset him, he meant only to silence the child and did not know his own strength. However, at what point does the blame shift from the Creature to society and back again? Should he be blamed because he committed this and subsequent acts of violence, or should society be blamed for pushing him towards those ends, and for coddling and accepting an irresponsible scientific genius like Frankenstein over his initially innocent and unknowing creation?

“There may be no clear answer, no right one, as the guidelines of morality are often blurry and gray, but one thing became clear to me upon reading the novel. The cycle of perpetuating fear and violence, of stereotyping and ostracizing those who are different, and of making exceptions and allowances for intelligent people and those who perhaps more outwardly or visually conform to perceived societal norms regardless of their stability or intentions... will continue unless it is broken. In other words, we cannot continue to shelter, protect, and sympathize with Frankensteins and persecute Creatures simply for being who and what they are. Intention needs to be examined. Things like ignorance and innocence can be corrected and improved upon with education and experience, but a god complex? Hubris? A disregard for the consequences of one’s actions? Not so much. We must consider merit, circumstance, and responsibility and weight them more heavily against things like outward appearance or what society tells you is safe, comfortable, or right. We must lead, each of us in our own lives, not follow. Only then will humankind break their own societal and psychological cycles that promote discrimination and violence while idealizing "normalcy” and unconstrained bravado.

“Science is never wrong. It is only a tool. However, man’s intended use of the science he discovers can be very wrong. The fault lies with the scientist and not the experiment at the moment conception, literal or figurative, but that experiment going forward has a responsibility to better itself regardless of how it is treated. Rising above, taking the high road, going high when they go low, and other such human phrases are examples of what the Creature had a responsibility to himself to do. Unfortunately, he chose to degrade into violence and revenge. While an active choice of his, it was heavily influenced by how he was treated, and for that I am sorry. Perhaps someone without his temper or impulsiveness might have chosen a different path, or perhaps the same Creature, treated with kindness for a much longer term such as what the blind man showed to him, could have had time to learn restraint and tolerance. I suppose we will never know.

“I do know the feeling of being an imperfect creature created by imperfect scientific geniuses, but I struggle to be certain that each choice I make is fully my own. What I mean is, I hope to avoid the Creature’s pitfalls of letting anger, sadness, and loneliness dictate his actions. I wish to act from an informed perspective, or at the very least, not in haste or due to any temporary or flaring emotions. I cannot control how others perceive me, but I can control how I react to them and how I conduct myself on an everyday basis, and I choose not to lash out. Rather, I am attempting to learn from humans even as I navigate my own life and emotions which are still very new to me.”

Vision paused now, realizing that he had been rambling for quite some time. “Although I will admit that I do appear to have a persistent problem with verbosity,” he said simply, smiling shyly and concluding his speech for the moment.

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treatian · 4 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 119: Unexplained Curiosity

When he left, he'd assumed that his trip to Camelot would take a few days. He hadn't expected he'd be back that very night. If he'd known that he wouldn't have told Belle he was going away, merely left her in the night without her ever having to know. He could announce his arrival in the morning but then…living in a vast castle without having someone know you were there did have its advantages. He'd trusted her on her own once with Robin Hood and regretted that decision even if he felt it had turned out the way it was meant to. It dawned on him as he returned that there were going to be more times like this throughout his life, times that he was going to have to leave and be busy while she was left alone in the castle and he was going to have to trust her. But trust was a lot easier with knowledge. So far, his knowledge told him that she was a risk who could betray him. He wondered if that was how it was always to be.

For that reason alone, when he concluded his business in Camelot, he returned to his tower and kept his arrival a secret. When he cast his eyes to the cauldron, he could see that his maid had done nothing out of the ordinary that night. The kitchen was clean of whatever dinner she'd made for them and eaten by herself, and she was laying in her cot in the dungeons. A sad picture it was too. She'd been here long enough, he figured she might be able to work a bit better with a nice bed…but he'd already showed her mercy where Robin was concerned and given her enough clothes that she was starting to garner quite the collection. And worst of all, she was smart enough to know all that. The last thing he needed to do was show her more favor. Maybe, one day, she would earn a bedroom, but not today.

He spent his next day in his workshop. He checked on Belle periodically throughout the day, curious as to what she would do with a day on her own. In between watching her, he worked on the Gauntlet. He was able to add his potion to it, the one that would recall it to him should he be separated from it. He was able to use it on the Gauntlet, to touch it, but he found he was unable to put it on his hand. He knew that was necessary for the magic to work, as Guinevere had demonstrated, but when he slid it on he found that it burned so much he had to remove it. Not even his magic could cool the hurt he felt with it on. He should have known. Merlin was a crafty one. He hadn't known him, but he had known Nimue. Anything he'd placed a spell on to prevent her from using would work on him as well.

But he wasn't about to give up the ability to use it over a glitch. He knew better than to give up. All spells and curses could be broken in time, he just needed the time required to break it. And perhaps to do a little experimentation on it. He was persistent. Almost as persistent as his maid.

When he got frustrated, he found that he was delighted to watch her, though he admitted to feeling some disappointment as well. He'd hoped to catch her doing something or other he might be able to lord over her; something that might curb some of her attitude. But, unfortunately, he found she was diligent in her work. She stuck to her schedule, even in his absence. In the morning, she rose and worked on one room, like normal. She took tea by the fire, alone, but otherwise normally. Though he noted that she seemed rather bored without his company. Afterward, she cleaned another room, took her dinner in his chair by the fire, all typical behavior. Then went to bed like normal and woke up again as she always did. She could be distracted, looking over at his objects when she should have been concentrating on what she was reading, but she didn't touch. Mostly…

The worst he saw was in his own tower. She'd nearly caught him one afternoon. After making a trip to her library and taking a book she began searching for something. He watched as she climbed stairs to a tower and it wasn't until he heard the noise behind him that he realized she was nearly behind him. He grabbed the Gauntlet and cast the spell to turn himself invisible as she arrived and looked around. He was nearly giddy with excitement, holding still and watching what she might do. But in the end, all she'd done was take a quill and some ink. For a moment he dared to think she'd do something dramatic like try to write a letter to her family. But then he observed the book in her hand was on learning a new language. She'd probably just wanted some practice.

She did pause for a moment. Her eyes drifted as they did all day long to some artifact or other he happened to have out on the same desk as the paper she stole. He held his breath as he watched her fingers stretch out over the object, then lower as if to touch it…

But she didn't do it.

In the end, she snatched her hand back and held it close to her chest. She sighed as she shook her head and moved away. She took the quill and ink she'd found and moved away in a hurry. He dropped the spell and promptly hurried off to his cauldron to locate her, leaving the Gauntlet forgotten on a table. She was going down the staircase. She'd set the ink and quill aside and was going into the Great Room. The fire flared as she entered, and he watched as she went to the cabinet on the opposite side.

She was looking for something, rummaging about on the bookshelves, going through book after book, sliding them this way. He knew she was looking for something. But what. She had her book. She had quill and ink, what more…

Paper.

Going through the list in his head, it was obvious. She had what she needed to learn, she had what she needed to write, but nothing to write on. He wrote in his books all the time, but she guarded that library of hers with a keen eye. She'd probably die before she wrote in one of those books. Then again, there were other things that could kill the poor girl…like snooping about in places she didn't belong.

He watched as she turned away from the shelves and her eyes roamed over the cabinet. Beowulf's sword was stored there. He'd caught her looking at it more than a few times over these last few days. Knowing her, she was dying for an excuse…and it seemed she was finally going to take it.

She grabbed a step stool that he'd seen her use to clean, set it before the cabinet, and pulled the doors open. He wasn't going to let her go on like this much longer and he smiled at the thought of interrupting her at just the right time. It was one thing to know something about her and bring it up in conversation, it would be another thing entirely to catch her in the act…like the moment she stopped searching for her paper and hauled the sword into her hands to examine it closer.

"Don't cut yourself, dearie!" he exclaimed.

He beamed as she gasped and juggled the sword, trying to gain her composer. That had been a better entrance than he thought it would.

"I'm so, so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I thought-"

"You thought I would be away for a few more days and it would be fine to play with my…toys!" he finished for her, plucking the sword out of her grasp.

"Well, you did say that I-"

"Oh! I lied!" he declared. "I wanted to see how the mouse would play when the cat was away. And the mouse has done very little cleaning…" he stated, dragging his finger across the table. Not a spec of dust clung to his flesh. But it was no matter. She had a tendency to get riled up when he chastised the work she did. After days of watching her silently sulk around the castle and being on his own watching her, he felt the urge to be entertained. Even if the conversation was simple, he sat on the edge of his seat just to see what she'd have to say.

"It's just that you've so many things here! From all over the world…I was curious!" she exclaimed without even trying to deny his lies as he set the sword upon the table. "And…you never talk about them!"

"Well…you're the help!" he reminded himself as a small hand of guilt seized over his heart. They were his things, and she was nothing but the maid, it wasn't his job to entertain her or explain what he brought into the castle. But she, obviously, didn't feel the same way. He watched as her eyes hardened and focused on him in a way that made him feel like he'd swallowed his own tongue. She lunged at him, unexpectedly strode over to him until her face was practically in his own.

"And you're rude!" she spat in his direction.

He never liked to back down from an argument, but few were as audacious as she was to come right up to him and make their arguments. He had to fight the instinct to take a step back away from her and cower.

"Well, I can be much worse," he threatened with a sneer. He wasn't about to back down, not to his maid, not to this small slip of a woman. She was his property, she was just a living breathing artifact he'd taken away from one of his deals. He'd given her privileges while she was here, but he could take them

"But you're not," she rebelled, her eyes staring right into his own before she finally began to move again. "Look…" she hopped up onto their table and maintained her gaze, but he was grateful for the distance between them. She had a smell to her, a very distinct smell that lingered under soap and cleansers and food. The scent of lemon was distracting when she was so close. "You have seen the world, something that I have always wanted to do, yet you share nothing!"

"Mouthy, mouthy!" he observed. "And foolishly brave." Her so-called "argument" was moot. She'd brought up no new points, no different perspectives, and that meant his opinion was the same. She was his property. He didn't have to share anything with her. The fact that he was awarding her this conversation while she was attempting to pry was merely a courtesy. In truth, he only conversed with her because he needed something to do. Now, as she stared at him with disbelieving eyes, he was starting to believe he'd made a mistake.

"You know, if you were going to kill me…you would have done it long ago."

Oh, and she didn't know how true her words were and how painful as well. For as long as he could remember, he had done what he wanted when he wanted, but once the Seer passed her powers on to him it meant that there were few who were safe from his grasp: Regina, Snow White, even Cora in a strange way. And now, unfortunately for him, Belle was one of those individuals. He couldn't kill her. And all because the damn Seer wouldn't reveal her importance in his future! He hadn't wanted her to know that though…what had he done wrong that she no longer feared him? Was it because he'd let Robin live? If it was, she was wrong. He just couldn't explain it to her. Was it because he'd given her clothing? That wasn't for her! It was so he didn't need to be distracted by worrying about her clothes falling apart and obviously that had failed him because she was wearing the blue dress now, which was supposed to be safe, but the way she'd arranged her corset and tightened her stays her breasts were practically spilling out of it! Perhaps it was because he hadn't locked her room at night. Maybe they needed to consider going back to that, just to get the upper hand back.

"Now, tell me what you've seen!" she urged with bright, happy eyes. "How was your trip to Camelot?!"

A smart man in his position would have given her a false answer, sent her back to her dungeon, locked her inside, and gone back to work. But after nearly two days alone in the tower he wasn't too keen on solitude…also something he couldn't explain to her. Not to mention, those "bright, happy eyes" mixed with that particular dress...he found it difficult not to answer her.

"Good for me…not so good for Camelot."

And damn him…when she smiled like that it didn't make him want to stop the way it should. Perhaps if he busied her, gave her some work to do, she wouldn't be such a tempting distraction and they could both get something done…

Into his hands, he summoned the Gauntlet from his tower. "A souvenir!" he explained passing it off to her. "Clean it for me, will you?!"

It was unlikely a good cleaning would remove Merlin's spells, but anything was worth a try where that man was concerned. Hell, if she came back and he found it did work, he'd take a bucket of whatever she'd used and scrub his tower raw himself just to gain access.

"Ah…well…what is it?" Belle asked, turning it this way and that in her own hands.

"The Magic Gauntlet! With a very specific power…it can locate anyone's greatest weakness!" he answered without pausing to ask himself why she was answering her.

"Mmm…how ominous…" she muttered. "Wait, but…why do you need this?" she exclaimed suddenly. "With all your power, you could destroy any foe!"

Very interesting. So she admitted that he had the power to destroy others, but she also had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't do it to her. The woman was far too intelligent for her own good.

"Ah, if you must know, it's about manipulation," he answered. "And for that…you must find one's weakness, and for almost everyone that weakness is the thing they love most. This will simply point me in the right direction!"

Or at least it would if he could put the damn thing on without Merlin's magic reacting poorly to his own. But he wondered…would Belle try it on? Could she work it? For a moment, he could see himself back up in his tower watching her clean it just to see if she would try until he heard his conversation with Nimue clear and crisp in his mind…

"I've more important things to do."

"Ah yes…finding your son and eyeing that maid of yours in the cauldron."

Was that her perception of him? Finding his son was his first priority, but watching Belle hardly was. Perhaps it was time to rid himself of that little habit. When she'd been under her father's roof or Robin had been here that was one thing, spending the last two days watching her when he could have been doing other things…maybe he needed to stop watching. Maybe he needed to stop worrying over her, stop using her for entertainment or sport. Maybe he needed to stop seeing her as anything other than a maid.

"But I don't understand-"

"Which isn't my problem!" he snapped angrily, though he wasn't sure what she'd done in the last few seconds to warrant a response like that from him. "I've answered your questions, you've done very little cleaning! Between the two of us, you've been downright rude and lazy!"

He watched as her eyes widened and became steely and cold all over again. He'd touched a nerve. More than that. He had the feeling that this time around he might have gone too far with her and didn't understand why he cared.

"Off! Off you go! I want that spotless before dinner! Or next time the cat leaves, the mouse will find herself very unhappy with the new rules."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Belle #Magic Gauntlet #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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icarus-imagines · 5 years

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Zero Kiryu X Reincarnated!Reader

Hello~! May I request a Zero Kiryu x Reader? I want him to be how he is now and let's make it reincarnated lovers AU.

Word Count: 2,810

Category: Vampire Knight

Inspiration/Thought Process: Reincarnation Feels

~When I'm No Longer Young and Beautiful~

"Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"

A small giggle erupted from your lips as you stared at him, cuddling closely, to the one and only man you would ever truly call your husband and Soulmate. His hair was a shining silver, relating to that of silk. His skin a snowy-white. Lastly, your favorite part of him, his eyes. They were always so vibrant and shining the color of pure lavender that always cheered you up one way or another whenever you gazed into them.

"You know I always will...," you replied with full, sincere honesty from the bottom of your heart. "No matter what, I always will."

He hummed in response as he lowered the shoulder of your baby blue-dyed kimono to gaze lovingly at your body. A blush erupted from your cheeks at his sudden confidence but scooted closer, on top of the futon, burying your face into the crook of his neck, a normal tendency of yours.

~*~*~*~

Waking up quickly your dream slowly faded away, but your persistent grasped at it even though it was but a single string. Every night would be the same, dreaming it really. It wasn't unusual for people to dream about their past lives and their Soulmate. Oh well, it wasn't unusual for a vampire, that is.

Yet every time you dreamed/remembered it like a memory right when you awoke you forgot every second of it. Which irked you since you always awoke with a brilliant mood and grin plastered on you (F/t) face. Sighing, you groggily leaped out of bed your short (It will help the story) shoulder length (H/c) hair bobbing with your (B/s) figure.

You curiously turned your head to the right looking at the bedside table to see the necklace you've had since you could remember. It was a beautiful heart-shaped pendant made out of pure gold, with your own initials. Your hands reach out and picked it up carefully, the weight of the pendant weighing down your hand just a bit. It actually helps, since it signified that it was there whenever you wore it. Your thumb rubbing lightly over the outdented loopy font of your initials. Even though you rubbed it over and over every day, due to either nervousness and/or anxiety sometimes, you were surprised it hadn't faded at all. It still seemed to keep its original color no matter how had or how long you rubbed it. Which was a bonus, since you didn't have to worry about it ever looking different than it did when you had first been given it.

Your hands turned it sideways and opened up the small clasp. It split into two sections in which you could place one small picture in each. Unfortunately for as long as you have had it, there had never been any sort of pictures fit inside it. And you planned to keep it that way, for the hope of finding the pictures that you knew for sure were there once.

Letting out a small sigh you shook off the subject clamping it back together to make it whole again. Unlatching the chain you lifted your short hair and latched it back again. The pendant resting against your skin, the coolness of the locket including the weight reminding you it was always going to be there.

Adorning the usual Day Class uniform for the elite school Cross Academy, with your golden heart locket, you hurriedly set off to the first of your many classes. You had always wanted to keep your grades high so getting up a little earlier than most people was a normal everyday activity for you. You may not be the most intellectual of your many peers, but you were smarter than the majority of them.

Making sure not to create much noise, since you were about 30 minutes earlier than issued to get to class, you entered one of the first classrooms of your first period not knowing another soul actually had joined you in the room. Glancing up with your (E/c) eyes you noticed a boy with his head resting on his shoulders lazily. His eyelids half covered his eyes not allowing you to see their color, but from what you were seeing from his hair was that it was a glittering silver.

For a second you had to stop in your tracks to your seat in the front, which he was sat right behind you, to just stare at him. Deja vu hit you like a foggy cloud, yet due to not being able to grasp at it, it is not holdable, you could only watch it slip away right in front of you. You shook your head a bit your locks of shoulder-length (H/c) shaking this way and that on your head.

You blush and hold your bag tightly as you feel him staring intently at you, but you being too shy to look down at your feet deciding to just take a seat in the front row, like usual. Your hair blocking the view of your (E/c) colored eyes from him.

~*~*~*~

The first period of the day, along with all the others, passed without a breeze. With the help of keeping my mood up was a result of having Yuki Kuran and Sayori Wakaba by my side throughout the day. Yuki may not be the most engaging student, at least she made me smile and think about life, and how it's too short etc.

I owed her a lot since she had introduced me to many people and showed me around the humongous grounds of Cross Academy.

"(Y/n)!" a voice yelled in your ear. You grimaced a bit and opening your eyes to see Yuki, her short brown shoulder-length hair staring at you with a confused expression. You tilted your head curiously wondering what she could want. It was always a mystery to somebody like her, which made you intrigued in her in the first place. It was fun not knowing what would happen next.

"Yes, Yuki-Chan?" You asked, packing up your school bag quietly trying to maintain eye contact with her. Even though you tried to stay quiet it wasn't like anybody would be bothered by it since everybody had already left in a hurry, along with Sayori.

She smiled noticing she had grabbed your attention. She clapped her hands together letting out a small squeal of excitement. "I have somebody I wish for you to meet!"

Your head stayed tilted to the side, and your hands subconsciously sprang up to the locket rubbing it slowly. "And who would that be?" You questioned her, not too excited about meeting a new person. Especially Yuki's friend since most were vampires, like herself.

Clearly evident from her long strands of brown hair that had once been shoulder-length until Kaname, a pureblood also being her older brother, had changed her. At least she had the decency of telling you her deepest secret. Even Sayori didn't even know. Which meant a lot to you, that she thought you could be trusted with something of the likes of vampires.

"He's been my friend for quite a while! Since we were children! He should be looking out for Day Class students right now!" She cheered with glee. You showed a small smile, not wanting to upset her. You nodding picking up your bag, standing up from your seat. "I wanted to introduce you two before I leave with Kaname...," her voice soft for once. You looked her in the eye and knew you had to meet this person. For Yuki.

~*~*~*~

"He should be this way!" She yelled, probably making the person she wanted to meet aware of her coming from a mile away. You clung desperately to her hand as she ran through the schoolyard towards the Night Class Dorms, where he was likely to be keeping a lookout.

Your locket thumped against your (S/c) chest, calming you down a bit to at least stare at Yuki's hair flowing behind her.

"Oh, there he is!" Yuki yelled knocking you out of our thoughts. She stopped almost abruptly causing you to fall on the ground butt first, after bumping into her sturdy back. "Gomen!"

"You should be careful Yuki, you can't keep doing that to people so much," a voice like silk thread said. You stared at your shoes embarrassed as your face grew hot.

"Okay...," Yuki pouted.

"You need any help?" The voice asked as its owner reached their hand out in front of your face. Your (E/c) eyes trailed from the tips of his finger, along with the length of his arm, and to his face.

You froze in place as your eyes met, (E/c) with lavender. His breath caught short in his throat as he stared down at you.

The memories, like bombs, all erupted at once as you started to remember

~*~*~*~

"Zero!" Your yell echoed off the walls as you stared at his lifeless body, blood spilling from the countless wounds on his body. The most severe from the left side of his neck. Running towards his body, almost tripping over your kimono, your body gave out from underneath you as you neared him. Your arms cuddled his body close gingerly supporting his head as if he was a newborn infant. "Z-Zero?"

Looking down at his face, even though you knew he was long gone, you couldn't help him. Though you were a pureblood there was nothing that you could do that would make him wake up.

"So you're the one that he so truly desires?" A soft voice of a woman said with a mocking hint laying underneath.

Your head snapped up in horror as the figure came closer. Her skin was a snowy-white, her hair a silvery-white that reached down to her feet. And her eyes an unusual shade of pink glared at you as she stepped closer her kimono dragging on the ground. "Shizuka H-hio!?" You yelled confused.

"That's my name isn't it?" she said with a snappy bark. "I was wondering when you would come after him, I just knew you would...."

"W-Why? Why!" You yelled your voice becoming hoarse with overuse.

"Why, you ask? To get back at you," Her bangs swished as she stared at Zero's dead body, trapped between your arms in a desperate plea to keep him with you as long as you could. "Always stealing my men, because of your beauty I could never be with who I wished. How foolish of me, because you never cared about any of them. Until he came along...," she pointed at Zero. "I had finally found a target, somebody you didn't yet know about then you came into his life and you both fell in love. With each other no less! I was heartbroken to hear that you two had gotten married!" she yelled her voice even higher as she grimaced at the rings on both you and Zero's wedding fingers, glittering a bright gold.

"So just because I fell in love with a man you needed to do this!? I loved him! I still love him! " You cried out tears spilling down your face. "And I'll continue to still love him, forever!"

You held your long (H/c) hair, that went to your knees, in your left hand and brought out a silver dagger from your kimono. Shizuka eyed you warily, watching your every move. "What are you doing?"

You ignored her question as you cleanly cut your hair, it falling to the floor as the rest is only shoulder-length. Your eyes slowly swirl into the color red as you bear your white fangs. "I'm going to love Zero, forever. I don't care if I have to give up being a Pureblood to be with him...I love him too much...," you say softly against Zero's skin on the left side of his neck. You stick your tongue out licking the blood already dripping from the wound given to him by Shizuka.

Biting down as soft as you could into his flesh you drank his blood savoring the sweet taste and smell of him, wanting to bath in it for the rest of your life. Unlatching your mouth from his neck you open his mouth enough to shove in your wrist that you had already bitten. Your blood sliding down his throat easily.

Shizuka stared at you in pure terror realizing what you were about to do. But she never thought somebody could actually activate it. She tried running towards you to pull you away from Zero but was held back by your powers. Keeping her restrained, but still incited the spell you kept working. Your mouth moved forming words silently until it stopped and your body gave out, laying atop Zero.

Shizuka screamed realizing what you had done. Now she could never have Zero. And he only belonged to you...

~*~*~*~

You gasped getting sucked out of the first memory, pushed out like you had drowned in waves of ocean water. Your eyes flickered up seeing Zero with the same expression on his face. He smiled at you, knowing you both were Soulmates. But the moment was soon broken by Yuki.

"Oh, my gosh, Zero! You're actually smiling! I can't believe your Soulmates, but you're not a vamp-" she's cut off when she stares at your features. Your skin had become paler than usual (If possible) and your eyes were a bloody red, fangs poking your bottom lip. Your hair had grown longer, to your knees like in your memory. "I have to tell Kaname! He'll be so happy about this!" She ran off to find him without another thought.

You turned to Zero a smile reaching your face. You had gained some of your memories and you knew spending more time with him would act more and you would learn more about what the spell meant and what he had meant to you in your "past" life. But for now, all you wished to do was learn more about him.

"So, your name's Zero?" You asked softly holding your hand out for his to take. "Mine's (Y/n)...It's nice to meet you, Soulmate."

He reached his hand out, taking your much smaller one in his. "Likewise."

~*~*~*~

~Extra Ending~

You held the locket in your hands looking at the contents of that held two pictures. One of both you and Zero at your wedding. And the other your newborn daughter.

Looking at both you couldn't help, but feel a rushing wave of happiness and relief. You had already gotten all of your missing memories completing the puzzle into one. Clamping it shut you held it close to your chest. You sat in the chair in front of the fireplace but was snapped out of your trance to the padding of footsteps.

You watched as you daughter only 5 years old ran into the room with a towel covering her naked body. Bubbles clung to the top of her cute little head as she headed towards you, getting you wet as she jumped onto your lap. She giggled as she hugged your waist tightly.

"What are you doing?" You asked your eyes widening.

"Daddy was trying to make me take a bath!" she giggled out.

And true to her words Zero came running in his clothes all wet, his hair dripping with water. You blushed at his appearance.

"I thought I was the only one that could make you wet?~" You teased forgetting about your daughter. But she just giggled thinking of something innocent. You hugged her tighter resting your dry head on her damp hair, as you stared at her (E/c) eyes lovingly. Zero came up to you two kneeling on his knees his front resting on your lap. He smiled up at you through his strands of silver hair.

"(Y/n)?" he asked. You hummed telling him you were listening. "Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"

A laugh slipped past your lips as you gazed at both Zero and (Y/d/n). "You know I always will...And I always will...,"

And you meant every word of it. Being vampires had its perks. And since both of you were, along with your dear child, you would all be able to stay together...forever.

And thanks to Kaname, Shizuka was no longer alive.

You would have to thank him for that at least.

#x reader #oneshot #imagine #drabble #zero kiryu #zero kiryu x reader #zero kiryu x reincarnated!reader #vampire knight #request #anime

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the-nerktwins · 5 years

Text

There’s more to “Another Day” than meets the eye…or, ear…

Sometimes the most interesting thoughts are captured during discussions. I recently began a thread in a Beatles forum I’m a member of, about Paul’s song “Another Day” and the deeper meaning I personally found within it. The conversation veered into two different directions. One was the concept of the lyrical content being overlooked for a few possible reasons, not the least of them being that the protagonist was a woman. The other branch of this conversation veered towards was the musical anatomy of the song and how it serves to add texture to the story the lyrics are telling.

It’s with regret that I report that some participants completely overlooked the musical complexity of this track. To illustrate, here are a couple of key quotes from respondents in the thread I started:

“In contrast to 'Eleanor Rigby, 'Another Day' is cute and perfect instead of full of contrast and dynamics. The cozy comfort of the music itself reflects the bland predictability of the protagonists' life, as depicted in the song. I'm just not sure that's the best approach to take. I think John and George's (Martin) influence would have added some dimension.”

“Yes it's typical of McCartney to wrap a dark story in a cute song. He likes to hide things (even from himself).”

I was left wondering if me and these posters were even listening to the same song! I was also reminded of how ready people are to default to and parrot the (false and grossly oversimplified) talking points that the fandom has been spoon-fed about Paul’s songcraft since the 1970’s. Paul is hardly ever regarded as a valid artist in his own right outside of the Beatles collective, that is terribly, truly wrongheaded in every imaginable way.

I find it galling that many fans still want to hear his early, solo work with a “Lennon filter” applied to it. I’ve seen people saying things like, “This song is good, but if he’d done it with John it would’ve been GREAT!” I completely disagree. McCartney’s compositional abilities by 1967 had evolved to the point where he could “hear” in his head almost exactly what he wanted his final product to sound like. He was adept at articulating his vision to producers, engineers, and bandmates rather early on.

It also hasn’t escaped my notice that certain fans resent his abilities within the confines of the Beatles’ collective since it did contribute to some friction within the band during their late period, and then they turn around and completely ignore his competency when it comes to his solo work (and lament that he couldn’t collaborate with Lennon or George Martin on particular solo songs). It’s a paradoxical mentality and I’m not shy about denouncing it. It gives me whiplash, if I’m quite honest about it!

Since I don’t know (and didn’t ask) the participants about whether they’ve had any experience as musicians, I can make some allowance for the fact that people who’ve played music can hear things in a piece that non-musicians may not pick up on. The thing is, there exist a fair number of sources which could at least illustrate what’s going on musically in “Another Day.”

As for me, since I have a musical background, and I can HEAR what’s going on. To me there are “contrast and dynamics.” The song builds, crescendos, and comes back down again. There's a lot going on in terms of time signature changes, and decorative elements which add texture to the story being told. It’s brilliant! I realize that someone who has little to no musical experience could miss it. There are musically-inclined people out there who can explain it, however, and I went looking online for just that. I conducted two simple Google searches: “Paul McCartney Another Day Musical Analysis,” and “Paul McCartney Another Day Sheet Music.”

With the second search, I found a website which allows the user to play a midi file of the song (with the lead vocals, backing vocals, and every instrument) while the user is taken through the sheet music. The parts being played highlight what’s going on in the song as it’s playing. If someone is inexperienced as a musician, it can serve as a nice, visual aid to see just how complex a composition is, and how much is going on within it. Here’s a screenshot of the site, and a link to “Another Day” for illustrative purposes.

"Another Day" by Paul and Linda McCartney on MuseScore.com

To me this is proof-positive that "Another Day" isn't just a cutesy, fluffy song.

For some further argument in the favor of the musical merits of this song, I stumbled upon comments from fans in the Steve Hoffman music forums, in a thread called "Paul McCartney 'Another Day' Appreciation Thread"

After the bit ".... leaves the next daaaaayyyy..." there's this descending run on the guitar that is perfectly placed, but very difficult indeed to play. – Edgard Varese

yeah, another day is an absolutely killer track. to me its really the perfect song: catchy as hell, yet imaginative and really far more complex than a casual listener would ever realize. i also agree with the thoughts on the rythym guitar. great song to learn for any guitar player, not just for the rythm, but for the chords also. i believe it starts with a g to a b7 with an f# bass and really you've got me hooked from there – andyw676

Listen to the bassline...amazing. – Stateless

I've always loved this song, everything about it really. The undertone of Rigby-esque sadness was obvious to me from the get-go, and the yearning in the "sometimes she feels so sad" bit as the music shifts up and down chromatically always put a lump in my throat. Paul's very good at getting some of the more delicate emotional shadings in his songs. Great song. Thanks for the thread! -- Gardo

That song has some crazy chord changes, and lots of em. Makes it special. – Dave D

To diverge just a little bit into lyrical territory, there were some nuggets of push-back within this Steve Hoffman thread against the typical appraisal of this song, namely it being labeled as “lightweight” or “trite” by certain critics or fans.

Similarly, on "Another Day" if you read the lyrics carefully you may come away feeling not uplifted by a catchy little ditty but a mite saddened by the sometimes crushing loneliness of the modern grind. Personally I love the "At the office where the papers grow..." and "Alone in her apartment she'd dwell..." parts, some of Paul's best lyrics. Remarkable concision. – Dr J

I don't consider it quite as light as I did. It's almost a social commentary on the way women's lives were in the 70s, although not a knock at anyone specific. I admit I'm stealing a little of my wife's analysis. – kevinsinnott

I find it interesting to note that the second poster needed some assistance from a woman regarding his appraisal of the lyrical content. It’s another reminder of the depressing reality that this song is likely written off as superficial and lightweight, and not much analysis applied to it, but because the protagonist is a woman. Just as a lot of our struggles as women are ignored or ridiculed, a song written by a male who sympathizes with our plight is written off as “silly” and “fluffy” by male fans, even if the lyrics have a dark subtext.

To me, the song speaks of something dark and existential going on within the protagonist's psyche, and Paul himself is simply a narrator, imploring the audience to empathize with her as much as he does. And by empathizing with the plight of a woman, Paul unfortunately gets labeled a superficial square who creates “Muzak” and isn’t “Rock N’ Roll” enough. And that’s not right any way you slice it. Even more ironic is that not long after "Another Day," Lennon at the behest of his wife would be singing and talking about Women's struggles for equal rights and the injustice of it all. He glibly missed his former songwriting partner's intent in this song. That's not unlike John at all, however, and that's certainly not the point of this essay. It's just an observation I found interesting.

"Another Day" also speaks to me as an acknowledgement that people who are highly functional can and do suffer depression; people are coached to wear a mask of being “OK” because it’s not socially acceptable to admit you are not OK. Just keep your head down, go to work, do what you’re supposed to do, get on with it, and don’t tell anyone about your problems…

“As she posts another letter to the sound of five People gather 'round her and she finds it hard to stay alive.”

To go back to the song being marginalized as a little bit of radio-friendly, pop fluff, when to me it clearly is NOT for a moment, I want to acknowledge something. Fans were less able to access opposing literature and materials in the early 1970’s, and McCartney himself wasn’t talking much to the press (and unless you’re a brand-new fan, you know why), so I can see why people sort of accepted this viewpoint at the time.

As Erin Torkelson-Weber has pointed out in interviews and on her blog, “The Historian and the Beatles,” Paul’s relative lack of response to the talking points being pushed by John and Yoko within their post-breakup PR campaign, as well as Paul choosing not to give too much weight to the unfair critical appraisal of his work that was tainted by rock music “journalists” essentially siding with John and Yoko, really created a vacuum, allowing for the fandom’s appraisal of Paul’s work to be dominated by this narrative. Therefore, it’s natural that many, if not most fans in 1971 would buy into these sentiments.

What I find annoying is that this tendency continues to persist within the fandom, even among younger fans! This is despite having a considerable amount of evidence available at our fingertips that can serve to point out how very wrong this narrative truly is, up to and including the damn sheet music!

With the ability we now possess to access contemporaneous source material and examine all of it objectively, and the ability to listen to virtually all of his music for free via the major, online streaming services, it demonstrates laziness when people within the fandom choose not to think for themselves regarding McCartney’s genius and artistic merit separate from the other Beatles (namely Lennon).

“Another Day” isn’t the only McCartney work I’ve seen suffer under-appreciation by fans, but it’s an excellent example to illustrate my point, since it was specifically singled out by Lennon and early 70’s rock critics and used as a device by Lennon and the prominent rock critics of the day to publicly mock McCartney and call his integrity as an artist into question.

A lot of McCartney’s solo work is written off in a similar fashion, and what a terrible shame that is. Quite frankly, I think people are depriving themselves of a lot of pleasure by simply dismissing McCartney and avoiding his music (or sticking to his “greatest hits” without delving into his catalog and giving everything a thorough listen), based on these antiquated appraisals of his work.

In conclusion, I hope this essay didn’t come across too harshly. I just hope it may inspire people to listen more carefully to Paul McCartney’s solo work and give him the credit as an artist that he duly deserves.

#another day #musical analysis #my posts #paul mccartney #solo #songs

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captainjetrocketboy · 5 years

Text

I’m Tryna Understand These Days ~ 5

Also on Ao3.

Chapter 5: Pictures of Guys Are Not for Me

Ben knows when someone is trying to get into his pants.

And, well… he knows Callum is trying. He’s just terribly poor at it.

It was all Ben could really focus on while he helped some old folks buy out a car. Both their raspy and hoarse voices were nothing more than white noise to him, his mind wandering far off into his subconscious. As soon as the papers were signed and they were out the door, Ben leaned back into his chair and thought about this ‘Callum’ fellow.

They’ve settled into a sort of routine. They’d have lunch together almost everyday. Didn’t matter if Callum had work or not, he seemed to always have time to spend with Ben.

Apparently, he and Ben were friends, having met around the time his memories started getting hazy. They had some drinks, talked with Jay and some girl named Wanda—or was it Whitney?—and kicked it off easily. Simple as that. Now, they’re like best mates or something.

At least, that’s what Callum’s told him.

His doctor had mentioned something about this. About how he shouldn’t let other people fill in the gaps in his memory for him. They were supposed to come back naturally. That is, if they ever came back at all.

Of course Ben was scared at the prospect. He might have only lost a couple of months, but for some reason it felt like a huge chunk of his life was missing. There was an undeniable aching in his chest, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to make it stop. The possibility of never knowing what made such a huge hole in his heart freaked him out more than it probably should.

And ever since reconnecting with Callum, Ben’s almost felt like that hole was completely filled. He doesn’t understand it all, but he just knows that it feels good to be around that man.

But at the same time, there’s been a persistent voice—almost a whisper, really—biting at the farthest reaches of his mind. It keeps trying to convince him that Callum’s nothing but bad news. That beneath his sweet and caring facade, he’s capable of destroying Ben in a way no one else could.

Ben suddenly lurched forward in his chair, hand clutching at the front of his head. He pressed down intensely until the headache went away. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to Ben anymore, but the pains were getting worse and more frequent. They’re more common when Ben tries to think too hard about his missing past. Especially when it comes down to Callum. It’s almost like his brain is willfully trying to keep him from remembering the bloke.

His doctor mentioned something like that, too. Said that his body will do anything to preserve itself, even in the case of bad memories. Some were lost for a reason, they told him. But why Callum? The man didn’t look like he could hurt a tiny fly, let alone Ben himself. It’s all just too confusing, so he stops his train of thoughts there.

His fingers finally relaxed, and grazed over scar tissue as he ran them through his messy hair. Ben returned to his laid-back position, and tried to think of something that wouldn’t rupture a blood vessel in his brain.

As he searched around the now empty office, he couldn’t help but go back to Callum. The good bits about him, though. He was a very thoughtful friend, and if he were anyone else, Ben would think that his antics were meant to butter him up. So that he could easily screw him in the end.

But nothing about Callum screamed ‘I wanna fuck you’, though he had caught the taller man staring when he thought Ben wasn’t looking. He’s realized that Callum’s just like that. That he’s inherently concerned for his mates. Or at least, he is for Ben.

As hazy as the rest of his memory was, the day he came to that realization was still clear as day.

- - -

It was early in the morning, and the sun was already beating down on Ben. He had wanted to go out for a quick run before getting the day started. He thought that if he was relaxed, he’d have an easier time recalling all those months that he had forgotten.

Kathy scolded him for a little bit, saying that it was too soon since coming back from hospital to be putting his body under physical activity. But after some words were tossed out of both of them, his mum had reluctantly let Ben go out for a little jog.

He knows she means well, but it seems like everybody’s been treating him so carefully since the accident. His mum, Jay, Lola, and even that new mate of his is coddling him like fine china. It was just a simple car crash, what was there to worry about? They’re called accidents for a reason. It isn’t like Ben’s just suddenly going to want to throw himself off a cliff.

But as he kept running, the sinister voice in his head overpowered anything else he could hear. He shut his eyes for a moment as his head started to ache. It whispered to him that the crash wasn’t an accident. That he had just wanted the pain to stop. He was trying to get away from something. Something that tore his heart into an irreparable shell.

He was running… but running from what?

Before he could find an answer to that question, a not-yet familiar voice pierced through his thoughts.

“Hiya!”

Ben was startled at the other man’s sudden intrusion. He let out a little yelp, and turned to face the source of the noise. It was Callum, who was dressed in light-grey sweatpants and a hoodie. It became apparent the he was also out for a run, and had decided to join Ben in jogging through the square.

Unfortunately, Ben was so focused on the other man’s unexpected appearance that he hadn’t seen a piece of merchandise from one of the stands had fallen to the ground. His foot was snagged on it, and all too quickly did Ben feel his body start to rapidly descend. His eyes had saw Callum try to catch him, but soon enough his face had collided with the rough concrete below.

His hearing aid was ringing in his ear, but that didn’t stop Ben from hearing the utterly terrified tone that plagued the man that unintentionally scared him.

“Oh my god! Ben! A-Are you alright?!”

Ben could only groan in response as he lifted himself up on his arms. “Jeez Connor! That’s one way to say good mornin’...”

“Callum…”

“Right…” Ben turned around and lifted a hand. “Well, Callum, could you be a dear and help me up?”

The other man did exactly as he was told, and Ben wobbled a bit before settling back on his two feet. As their eyes met, Callum’s expression darkened even more than it was. Curious as to what frightened him so, Ben went to feel around his face for any damage. Sure enough, when he passed over his nose, he saw a streak of blood spread on his fingertips.

“Aw, look what you’ve done Callum…” Ben sarcastically let out. It might have been a tad too harsh, he’d admit.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Callum whispered as his hands suddenly cupped his face. Ben’s face started to heat up as he felt the man’s strong, yet tender, touch. It was probably the heat from the sun, but he could swear that Callum was on the verge of tears. “We should get ya to hospital…”

Ben shook his head as he pushed Callum’s hands away. “Nah, it ain’t that serious. It’s just a tiny cut probably.”

“Then… let me look at ya. My flat’s not too far, and I’ve got a first-aid pack.” Callum spoke with confidence. It was a far cry from how he acted when Ben first met him.

“It’s alright, mate, seriously ya don’t—”

Callum was already tugging at Ben’s sleeve as he spoke once more. “C’mon, it’s the least I can do after what I did to ya…”

The way Callum had trailed off at the end there made Ben glare at him with a confused look. It was almost like he didn’t want him to hear that last part. “What’re you on about? Ya just made me trip. It really ain’t a big deal.”

He didn’t respond, and Ben doesn’t think he’s gonna get much else out. He sighed, and acquiesced to Callum’s insistence that he take care of his injury.

They didn’t need to walk far, but Callum had given Ben his jacket to put on his nose. There wasn’t nearly as much blood to warrant such a thing, but he just shrugged it off as Callum being overly caring. He’s taken note of his tendency to be as such. Besides, at least the bloke’s clothes smelled halfway decent despite sweating out in the hot sun.

He’s a little taken aback when he realizes that Callum lives right above the funeral parlour. He hasn’t been up there in ages, and he’s not sure if he wants to. He hides his discomfort quickly, and lets himself be dragged up the stairs. Callum’s hand never once left his, and he’d question it if he wasn’t shocked by the state of the flat.

It seems to have aged terribly, the walls covered in a horrendous pattern that didn’t seem to quite fit simple-man Callum. Not to mention the scattered beer bottles, the discarded clothes that littered the floor, and the messy couch that looked as if someone was having nightmares on it. It just didn’t make sense how clean and organized Callum could be living in such a place.

“Sorry about the mess… I wasn’t expecting company today,” Callum sheepishly explained, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Ya always been sleepin’ in this pigsty?” Ben complained as he pushed the pillows and blankets off the sofa to sit down.

Callum was quick to return to his side as a laugh escaped him. “It ain’t gonna get any cleaner if ya makin’ even more of a mess!”

Ben shrugged as he leaned back into the cushions. “Sorry ‘bout that, but I’m a bit woozy at the moment. Might be from all the blood loss.” Ben put down the scrunched-up hoodie he had placed over his cut, and wasn’t surprised at how little it was stained.

“Well, let me at least look at it. Gotta make sure you’re alright.”

As Callum made work with the first-aid supplies, Ben couldn’t stop himself from staring. The man was undeniably attractive to Ben. The way his surprisingly muscular arms effortlessly cleaned up his face, or how the blue in his eyes intensified as he focused.

It was somewhat comforting, knowing such a beautiful guy wasn’t all about looks. His fingers were gentle as they handled a small washcloth to wipe away the blood. Behind his concentrated gaze was genuine concern for having caused Ben a bit of pain.

It just didn’t make sense to Ben, though. There wasn’t a lot of people out there that would give a rat’s ass if he were dying in cold blood. But here Callum was, freaking out and worrying about a tiny cut above his nose.

This wasn’t a hot dude pretending to care so that they could have sex immediately after. No, this was something that Ben wasn’t expecting at all.

This was someone who actually cared about Ben’s well-being. Callum keeps on surprising him, and in the good way. He’s not sure what he's done to deserve such a mate.

When Callum was finished, he let out a deep breath and smiled brightly. “There, good as new. I’m glad it wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

Ben wasn’t quite sure what to say. He wasn’t used to this honest concern at all. Only a select few people were able to show that to Ben, and he’s not sure how Callum made it on to that list.

“Thanks, mate. I really do appreciate it.”

Callum’s shoulders deflated a bit, but it was gone as fast as it came. “It was my pleasure.”

They just sat there on the couch. Unmoving for what felt like an eternity. Neither knowing what to do or say next. The silence was deafening, to say the least, and the way Callum was looking at him made Ben’s cheeks flush a deep red. He doesn’t know—or remember—why his heart started to beat faster, or why the empty hole in his chest started to fill itself up.

A shrill ring shattered the almost-intimate atmosphere, and Callum suddenly looked away, his own face blushing. Ben, too, was pulled back down to Earth, and saw that it was his phone that went off. He skimmed through the message, and was surprised at what he read.

“Sorry, Cal, but I gotta... head out.”

“What’s up? Who was it?”

“It’s…” Ben’s not sure if he should share this information with Callum, but he’s been good to him so far, so why not indulge in the attention? They’re mates, so it only makes sense that he could tell him these kinds of things. “It was from a bloke I’ve been seein’. He said he wants to meet up for lunch at The Prince Albert.”

Callum’s back stiffened, almost defensively. “Really? Well, I could join ya, if you’d like.”

Ben shook his head as he went to stand. “No, I don’t think he’d like that. It’s sort of a private thing, y’know? Since we’re… kinda boy—”

“I’ll see ya tomorrow then, eh?” Callum interrupted before Ben could say more. His back was still turned, and a sudden feeling of guilt washed over him. He clearly had upset Callum by revealing his relationship with this person, but he’s not sure why. They were mates, right? Shouldn’t Callum be happy for him?

Another text came through. It was from the same guy. “Right, guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting.” Ben strode over to the door, but as he turned the handle he called back. “Thanks again, Cal. I’ll see ya ‘round, yeah?”

He didn’t hear a response as he walked out.

- - -

Ben’s head started to hurt again. It’s been a couple days since tripping and being taken care of by Callum, but the whole situation kept playing on repeat.

There were so many things he didn’t understand about Callum. Why had he been so apologetic for barely hurting Ben? Why was his flat so unkempt? Why was he so careful and soft while helping him? Why did he get so suddenly offended when he told him about some guy he was seeing?

Nothing about it made any sense, and Ben had to rest his forehead on his hand that was propped up on his desk. Goddamn memory… surely there had to be at least one answer hidden in all that time he lost.

A knock reverberated through the door to the car lot’s office, and Ben quickly shook his headache off. “Come in!”

Lo and behold, the man that was currently tossing Ben’s whole mind about stuck his tall frame and big ears into the building.

“Gotcha some coffee. With five sugars and three creams, of course. I’ve learnt my lesson!”

Ben could really only smile. There was that compassion again, practically dripping from Callum. Those warm eyes and million-dollar smile. It all was doing something to Ben, and he’s not sure he can comprehend it all.

“Cheers, mate. What brings you ‘round these parts? Here for a car?”

Callum still had that big grin across his face as he sat across from Ben. “Nope, just wanted to see how you were doin’.”

“I haven’t seen ya in a while. You alright?” Ben asked as he took a sip from the cup that was given to him.

“Yeah, sorry about the other day. It was uncalled for, and I’m happy you’ve found someone.” Callum’s smile wasn’t as full as he spoke those words. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The coffee’s a sort of peace offerin’, by the way. We good?”

It was Ben’s turn to give a light chuckle. “Yeah, we’re good.”

They shared in a bit of small talk as they drank their coffees. Callum talking to Ben about some crazy customers. Ben recounting tales of even sillier exchanges. It felt good, the distance between them quickly closing.

The air suddenly became tense, however, when Ben’s phone dinged with a text.

“Is that… your boyfriend?”

“Yes Callum, cos all me messages are from the same bloke.” Ben couldn’t help the snarky response. When he saw the subtle wince from the other man, though, he reassured him with a softer voice. “He ain’t my boyfriend. Never was. Just wanted some fast action, and the next thing I know he’s run for the hills.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.” There was a hint of satisfaction in Callum’s voice, Ben was sure of it. “Then who was it?”

Ben sighed. “That was Jay. Sayin’ he has to watch the parlour later since somebody had begged him for a day off.”

“Hm, wonder who that could be…” Callum mumbled as he took a big swig of his coffee.

“Seems I ain’t got anyone to hang with this evening.” Ben started with a dramatic voice. “With Jay busy, guess we ain’t havin’ drinks. I’ve suddenly got a free schedule! Whatever shall I do, Callum?”

“I’m not quite sure Ben. I’m sure someone will come around, though, don’t you worry.” Callum joked along, a laugh threatening to break through his act.

Ben couldn’t keep his in though. He barked out a hearty laugh as he talked. “Alright, just get on with it ya sap.”

“Would you like to have dinner with me then? I make a mean lasagna. Well, that’s people have told me, anyway.”

“I would love a dinner and some drinks. Is anyone else comin’?”

“I was thinkin’... it could just be the two of us.” Callum must have seen how Ben almost spat out his coffee. “I-I mean! Think of it as an apology for how I pushed you away. T-The other day, I mean!”

Something in Ben told him that it wasn’t a good idea. That whatever Callum’s doing, it’s because he’s setting him up to do something awful to him. The voice was telling him to refuse.

“If it means free food and drinks… Sure, why not?”

#eastenders #ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell #callum highway

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