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thetalesofno-one · 4 months

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Curse of Strahd, Act I: Pt. 1, Ch. III -43 Tallies-

D&D Campaign Retelling Part 1/? Chapter 3/5 ~5.3k words Content Warnings: Curse of Strahd typical content, Read at own risk

Summary Forced together by the mists and lost in a strange new land, our four strangers run into a grim omen along their path and a fork in their road. The Ghost, the Rebel, the Charmer, and the Holy Man finally reveal their names where the deadmen carve their messages on the bones of trees. Read Previous Chapters also available on AO3

Time seems timeless in this place.

No light wanders behind shaded skies, no sun, no stars. All the heavens diffused entirely behind grey skies hung so low the tops of the barren trees stretch their fingers to touch the clouds. A heavy shroud without breath, suffocating the land. Grasses greyed and withered, thin as straw, dry as hay. Their stalks rustle lightly in the rain with an endless shifting that carries the mind to places beyond. Luring thoughts away from the land like a dream.

Left in the rustling silence, Emet’s mind wanders.

The dim dissonance with the world bringing back memories of a darkened shop thick with the scent of paper and leather. Of a worktable scattered with various tools and thread, half sewn signatures left in a neat stack beside a half drunk and forgotten glass of wine as he remeasures a board and pares the edges of supple smooth leather, the scrapings curling across his fingers. Of candlelight flickering long through the sunken day, windows ever cast in the shadows of spires. Of night slipping over the city like a thief, light fingers pocketing the sun in velvet black without so much as a blink of notice from the little shop. The candles burning ever bright, the day’s end only realized when the flame flickers thin and the darkness steals the workman’s light.

Fingers pricked with needle thin scars and paper thin cuts lighting another candle. Hair loosely tied back, a few strands always slipping free as he smooths the marked tape along a new edge and carefully notes the measurements with a tailor’s precision. Of a guillotine blade sliding through a stack of vellum and trimming its edges to a fine point, a perfect block to be folded. Of the smooth texture of bone between his fingers, the gentle scrape as he runs the folder across the edge of a bent sheet, turning a bowed page into a sharp crease. Glue sticks to his wrist from a missed spot on the wooden table, the book shaping in his mind before its pieces are folded and glued and sewn together.

And all the while, the quiet loneliness whispering at his back with a phantom silence. Not of presence, but absence. Empty. The weight of a space where someone should be, infinitely loud in its stillness. Its siren voice chased away by the endless work. Its words unheard and yet unignored. Every movement his, every breath slipped through his teeth with no other lips to catch it. Scarred hands reaching for tools no other fingers brush across. And all the while knowing when he finally stops, the kitchen will be empty, the home devoid of spiced currents in the air, the bed cold. The bitterness left in tasting the flavors of an old life when you know now the sweetness of another.

“There is a scent of death.”

Emet’s attention snaps from lullaby memories. The holy man stopped along the muddy road, bent nose turned up and sniffing the air.

“Maybe undeath.”

The blades are in Emet’s hands before the old human even finishes his sentence. The broken glaive hanging dangerously from his hand, vicious tip polished to perfection and flashing brilliantly in the dim light. A stark contrast against the dark bloodstained cloth wrapped around its shattered haft.

The charmer knocks an arrow into his charred longbow with the fluidity of someone who has fired it under dire circumstances. A faint scent of smoke whispers past as his fingers tug the string lightly, ready for trouble.

“I don’t like this,” the rebel whispers, slipping her arm through a shield—a small round thing of black and gold painted metal. A coil of whip hangs from her belt but she reaches for metal instead. The short blade slips free of its sheath with a faint hushed breath.

The all too familiar stench of death doesn’t yet reach Emet’s nose, but he has no reason to doubt the holy man in this. Eyes flickering through the mist, resentment wraps itself around Emet’s chest and burns through his scars. But there is no place for spitting out what has been earned because of the hand that offers it. Not when it comes to undeath. Emet calls on his forsaken power. Soul reaching out beyond himself with clawed grasping hands ready to take what might be denied, he stretches out his inner self toward a god he isn’t sure will answer. Toward a god who heard his screams and turned away.

Power floods through Emet’s irises in a dim display. Pale grey light ignites his faded eyes in a hollow glow burning with ghost fire, and though they do not shine with the brilliant white of beacons as they once did, the divine sense is not gone entirely. Not yet.

The rebel glances up at him with an unreadable expression, but he ignores her and scans the mists around them. If anything undead or fiendish in nature lurks nearby, the divine power flowing through him will draw his attentions like someone taking his chin and gently pointing him toward unseen dangers. But no phantom fingers grace his scarred jaw or pull at his divinely heightened senses. Whatever smells of death here must then truly be dead.

Giving a nod to continue on, the holy man presses forward with the slow and quiet feet of a hunter stalking its prey. The faded light falls from Emet’s eyes after a moment and he feels the divine slip away from him with a cold chill. The rebel still stares at him with narrowed eyes and uplifted brow, but her lips remain sealed. Whatever question lurks in her mind, he suspects she no longer needs to ask it. A curiosity that seems less about the ability and more about the person wielding it.

Though he no longer wears his holy symbol or any sign of faith emblazoned on his person, no trace of a past better left buried, it is not uncommon knowledge to those of faith that only paladins—knights of gods—are blessed with such an ability. And Emet realizes he’s let something of himself slip in front of knowing eyes.

The rebel’s lips part—

The scent finally reaches them.

Sickly sweet and turning the stomach with a heavy wave of bile. Both enticing and revolting in that way only death can be. Corpse rot. There’s no doubt. Not but fifteen feet down the road, a human body decomposes half off the path with arms outreached toward the road as though it breathed its last in a desperate crawl. A young man once, clothes torn by brambles and thorns with flesh pockmarked by the beaks of birds feasting on an easy meal. A tarnished copper compass spills out from that outstretched hand, its red needle trembling and twisting uncertainly as though unable to find North.

The holy man kneels beside the body and looks it over without touching the overly soft and rain sodden flesh. The boy’s skin shifts across his bones with gelatinous ripples as the old man accidentally shifts the mud in taking a knee. A slimy sheen has already settled over the pale flesh like melted fat. Long strips and sharp pecks break through the wet surface to expose the black and purple insides, dark as a bruise, the blood long clotted and rotting. White bone peaks out from cheeks a fingertips, the nose half consumed. The birds have eaten well.

The holy man narrates his findings softly. Scratches from branches and brush, gaunt flesh, sunken eyes—what remains of them, at least—but no visible mortal wounds. The young man died from exhaustion of all things. The holy man’s eyes take on a dark and certain stain when he says the word.

Exhaustion.

How the holy man knows, Emet isn’t sure. But he never was the best at healing during training. Healing required not just blind faith like those outside of holy orders assume when they beg healers to fix their every ailing, but also knowledge of medicine. A bone cannot be knit together without knowing how its structure is woven together. A crushed hand cannot be reconstructed if one does not understand the pattern of nerves and vessels, tendon and ligament. Or rather, it will heal with faith alone, but it will never be the same again without knowledge behind it.

Emet has always been better at the unmaking…perhaps that’s why they were put together during training.

Him and Azemir.

Wrapped eternally like wax around the cold stillness of Emet’s heart, his name brings warmth to the hollows of Emet’s soul where nothing grows. Ever a flame without shadow, a sun without night. Healing and warmth have always been more of Azem’s specialty and Emet wonders how long it will be before he can touch those healing hands and feel their warmth. How far he must go to set things right again. When they will talk without so much distance between them. Or if whatever has happened in these mists will delay his journey. He will walk a hundred lifetimes seeking a way back if that’s what it takes. He will carry the weight of that name forever.

Sickening chills drift and trail cold fingers across Emet’s body snuffing out the thin flame of Azem’s name within his soul—always touching, always grasping. He shudders and crawls within his own skin wanting to shrink away, wanting to claw them off. They touch and grasp and choke and scream—

The calming coolness of one washes away all the others for but a moment. And Emet can breathe. Just one breath. Before they drift back like the sea and cling to him as algae on an anchor. But it’s enough. Why they grow restless, he doesn’t always know. Perhaps a reminder of the promise he made them so it doesn’t settle unfulfilled.

Emet’s eyes follow the old man’s ministrations with that name balanced delicately on the tip of his tongue. The way the old man’s rough and calloused hands move light as feathers over the boy’s corpse as though the kid can feel anything anymore. Pain is beyond him now, but still the old man moves gently. Emet isn’t sure what he is searching for. Perhaps some other answer than the one he already knows and something in the holy man’s expression settles like wet sand over a stone when he finds no other. The warm candle flame in his eyes dimming beneath a cold and familiar wind.

The old man rests a hand over the boy’s rotting one in a strange gesture of comfort. Bowing his smooth shaved head, he whispers blessings beneath his breath. Emet isn’t sure why the old man bothers. There’s nothing left to save.

Nudging the broken compass after his prayers and looking to where the boy’s hand falls, the holy man quirks his mouth sadly. Perhaps seeing another blessing where there is none.

“The boy was going this way,” he points to the opposite side of the wagon trail toward a tree bearing faint tally marks—43 of them. An arrow carved into its bark points away from the muddy road toward a thin path cutting deeper into the woods. A jagged knife cut through the trees, all but unnoticed if it weren’t for the arrow to point the way.

“You want to follow the dead’s path,” Emet asks incredulously.

“Why not?” The charmer steps over the rotting corpse’s outstretched arm to get a better look at the path behind the body rather than ahead, “He’s probably a criminal trying to leave, so I’d say follow where he came from and we’ll find civilization.”

“Why would you say he’s a criminal?”

“Why else would he be out here?”

“Why are we out here,” the rebel counters.

The holy man looks up from body, “And we are not criminals.”

The rebel gives the holy man a nod, “What the old man said.”

“I am not that old.”

Emet looks over the kneeling holy man. Crows feet spiderweb out from his eyes into well worn paths, tracing old channels. Deep lines folding into the leather of his human face, ripples and cracks where great emotion has marked it forever in memory. The echos of pain and joy held forever in weathered lines. Calloused rough hands scarred with the burden of much hardship dust off his knees as the holy man stands from the corpse. But no light cracks and pops fill the air as his bones settle. And he springs back from his crouch with ease, not even bothering to lean on his shepherd’s staff. The skin past his toughened hands bears much scarring and yet a youthful smoothness.

If he is not old, then he lived a life full of immeasurable hardship.

The holy man quirks his head to the side and returns Emet’s stare, “Why are you looking at me like you are reading stones in the sand?”

“Human ages are a bit difficult for elves to determine,” Emet admits.

“I am thirty-two.”

The charmer and rebel both snort.

“Nah, mate,” the rebel crosses her arms and grins, “You’re at least sixty.”

“I am not lying.”

She smiles, “Whatever, old man.”

The holy man scrubs his scrawled salt and pepper beard, gesturing off to Emet, “I am not old, he is old. Elves are always old.”

Emet concedes that with a shrug. He’s already lived more years than most of those with him could hope to ever reach and lifetimes before that.

“Yet he looks closer to thirty-two than you, old man,” the rebel continues, picking her nails with a sly grin.

“That is because he is an elf.”

“And I’m not?”

The holy man sighs.

“Ah, I’m just fucking with you, grandpa” she chuckles, “I know I’m half human.”

“You are half—what are you doing?”

The charmer barely pauses his light-fingered search of the dead boy’s pockets, finding more interest in stealing from the dead than their idle chatter. The holy man is about to admonish him further when the tiefling carelessly flips the body onto its stomach and continues his search through pockets.

The holy hand throws up a hand, all conversation on age and good looks forgotten.

“Eh! Eh! Devil boy! Respect the dead! I already took his compass if that is what you are looking for.”

The charmer ignores him, his hands continuing to wander across the ragged clothes and slipping into the pockets and folds as though it is a dance they have performed many times before. His fingers wander with a speed born of practice, seeking whatever the dead may hide. But his search is fruitless, the tiefling finding little more than a small pocket knife like used to carve the tree with its 43 tallies. He turns the small blade this way and that in his red hands, dark nails tracing the edge before pricking his thumb atop the tip. No blood flows along the blunted edge.

With one quick toss, the useless blade flies over his shoulder, “I’m a bit too far gone for respecting the dead at this point.”

The holy man frowns deeply, those ancient lines creasing in old paths. He turns away from the grim display and takes out his feather once more. Whispering more quiet words meant only for the far reaching ears of gods, the old man holds the brilliant feather out before him like a candle in the dark. After a breath, he releases the stem and watches it flutter listlessly to the wet ground. The stem settles first in the mud, its tip angling lightly toward the deadman’s path.

“I think we should go this way.”

Emet’s lips curl into a faint snarl, “How much faith do you have in that feather?”

“A lot of faith.”

“Do you honestly trust that more than the actual, factual compass you have in your other hand?” The rebel asks with no small amount of skepticism, the moment of warmth shared between them only a moment ago blowing away with the breeze.

“It has never lead me wrong, nor has my god. Besides,” the holy man tosses the tarnished bronze compass to the rebel, “this does nothing. It is broken.”

“I can’t fucking map-read,” she growls as she snatches it from the air with a loud clang as the compass hits the edge of her shield. The rebel palms the bronze and glass bauble in her hands, watching it a moment and expecting the needle to settle. But the sharp red spine continues to wobble and spin as though unsure.

Her eyes narrow, “I don’t think it’s meant to do that.”

“I have never had a compass,” the holy man shrugs, “but I did not think so.”

“Hey, poncy bloke,” the rebel looks up at Emet, “You look like you know how to use this kind of shit.”

Emet arcs a sharp brow at the nickname. In the absence of anyone having offered up their names, it was inevitable they’d all call each other something. But poncy bloke? Not exactly his first guess. Most people went with ‘giant’ or ‘tower’. He’s even heard ‘statue’.

The rebel’s arm swings out with the compass and all the world slows. Emet’s breath catches and his eyes lock on that approaching hand like a blade plummeting toward his gut. For a moment he can’t see, his vision crystalizing on that hand and blurring all the world around it as he instinctively steps away before he’s even realized what he’s done. His body moving without thought, shifting back as though about to be skewered in a fight before the moment ends and only an open palm offering a compass hangs before him.

A strange look crosses the half-elf’s face.

Emet thought he was starting to get better about this. Hand-shakes, fingers brushing when taking a drink from a server’s hands, shoulders getting bumped in a crowded tavern. All of these things he could handle with a steadying breath. But all of those things are expected touches. Expected moments that he can predict and prepare for, ready his nerves to stand firm. But the more unexpected the approach, the more he steps back into the shelter of himself like a fox cornered between stones with nowhere to run from the wolf’s shadow. And his body reacts with all it knows in that moment. Fear.

Emet shifts his blade arm deeper beneath the dark cloak draped over his shoulder, drawing attention away from the hand wrapped tightly around the glaive’s broken haft with a light cough as he forces his clenched fingers to release. He breathes, thankful he did not draw steel this time.

Acting as though nothing happened, Emet stiffly leans over when the rebel gives the compass a little shake, beckoning him to take a look. Her face immediately screws up, recoiling as though he’s some shit-faced drunk at the bar thick with the scent of whiskey and lust and offering her the best lay of her life. Emet doesn’t understand the shift in her expression a moment before he realizes he’s a very large man looming over this young woman despite the distance his previous reaction put between them. The half-elf’s discomfort is readily apparent and Emet quickly puts some space between them after a brief glance down at the compass.

“No, it’s not supposed to do that,” he says gently.

The compass disappears in one of the rebel’s belt pouches as she shuffles away from him, risking a look over to the holy man as though asking him to interpret what the hell just happened. The old man only shrugs lightly.

Everything is going wrong, that’s what happened.

He almost apologizes, but the words catch in his throat. What if doing so makes them ask why he practically jumped away from her. Those aren’t questions he’s ready to answer, so better to not give an opportunity for them to be asked.

“So we have a feather, a broken compass, and I’m hoping you’re a tracker,” Emet says to the charmer, trying to plough through and trample into dust whatever walls this disaster of a conversation brought up before anyone thinks too hard on it.

The tiefling regards him a moment before flicking away a piece of dried grass twirling between his long fingers, “I rely on instinct and I’m with the old man on this one. His dumb feather pointed to where I wanted to go anyways.”

“Thank you, young boy,” the holy man nods.

“Watch it.”

“You keep calling me ‘old man’, why can’t I call you ‘young boy’. It is better than ‘devil boy’, no?”

“You’re fair game,” the tiefling bites back, “I’m not.”

Emet pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, “Would it not be better to call each other by our actual names instead of these substitutes.” He cuts a glance at the rebel to his side, “Creative as they are.”

The charmer scoffs, “Let’s not get sentimental.”

“First names, then.”

The holy man’s eyes widen incredulously, face scrunching as though Emet just suggested the moon is an illusion, “I only have one name. Are you supposed to have more?”

“Typically…Your name and a family name.”

The rebel murmurs something under her breath about having too many.

“That is a…weird revelation, but okay.” The holy man lifts his hand in greeting, “My name is Roshan, but you can call me ‘old man’ if you like.”

“Emet. We’ll leave it at that for now.”

Both the charmer and rebel suddenly find great interest in some moss on a tree and a particularly long strand of dried grass as Emet and Roshan’s attentions fall on them in expectant silence.

“I can just call you ‘devil boy’ and ‘lovely elf lady’ if you want,” Roshan offers.

The charmer rolls his eyes and flicks away the chunk of moss, “Evrrot. You can call me Evrrot.”

Kicking a loose stone on the ground, the rebel keeps her voice low. Perhaps hoping no one will actually hear her, “Most people call me Evie.”

Roshan nods after each one, fingers twirling in his beard as though he can tie each name to his memory, “Emet, Evrrot, Evie. Everyone is an ‘E’. That is strange, but okay.”

“So we’re done here?” Evrrot asks, “Everyone all happy with their little names?”

He walks off down the deadman’s path without waiting for an answer, abruptly ending the conversation that was more akin to pulling teeth than basic introductions. Roshan quickly follows with a grin, resuming his practice of trying to walk ahead of Evrrot, further irritating the charmer tiefling into a faster pace.

Emet and Evie watch them hastily disappear between the trees, left behind again. Realization slowly dawns on them as they share another look that this will likely be their shared fate quite often in the days ahead.

“You know,” Evie says, “I get the feeling that wherever we go, we’re gonna end up in the same place anyways.”

“As do I,” Emet sighs.

“We could just keep following this muddy slop road and they’d probably end up right behind us.” She shrugs, “We could just go.”

“Tempting, though I get the feeling we shouldn’t be separating in a place like this.” He glances around the dark and silent forest pointedly, the mists shifting into strange shapes and shadows in the distance.

“Mmm, probably right,” she groans. “Come on then.”

Evie ushers Emet ahead of her and they follow the already fading silhouettes of Evrrot and Roshan. Both still vie for who gets to lead without there ever being a winner. Though from the near permanent curl to the old human’s lips, Emet suspects Roshan takes the game itself as a win.

The arrow carved into the tree above forty-three sharp tallies—every slash bearing down harder than the last, the groupings becoming more sporadic and wild, telling a tale of madness and desperation—points them down a narrow footpath. The trail is thin, quickly forcing them into a line as the trees and brush crowd in eagerly to either side. Branches reaching out to snag on their clothes and boots sinking in the thick slosh of earth. Roshan and Evrrot are forced to relinquish their game of footsie. ‘Devil boy’ comes out on top as he slips ahead of the holy man through a rather narrow bend where two barren trees crowd as desperately close as lovers in a storm. Despite the loss, Roshan casts a secret little amused grin toward him and Evie. A promise their game is far from over.

Though the scent of decay and rot gradually gave way to bitterly sharp winter air as they walked beyond the corpse along the road, it returns again, thick as ever in their lungs and threatening to make them choke. Ahead, an eerily similar tree with another forty-three tallies looms near the path with a bowed back, its branches nearly sweeping the dried grasses. Another arrow continues to point further down the path. But it’s the second body that makes this repetition unsettling, a shiver passing through their bones as though someone walked over their graves.

A bulking husk, ribs splayed open in grim offering to the meal of its soft blackened innards spills out across the path. Bloated gases wafting from the entrails with fresh release as though only recently released from the prison of bone. A half eaten yawning skull grins up at them through the sinew of the face it once wore, hooves splayed out in deep grooves as though the beast tried to keep running until the very moment of death. The rotting horse rests on its side, never to rise again.

Evrrot studies the body from a good distance where the smell is not quite so overwhelming. Emet notes he doesn’t pinch his nose from the stench as though it is one he well accustomed to. In fact, none of them do. An odd revelation, but one Emet isn’t yet sure of what it means. His own line of work often sent him delving into crypts and left him covered in the rot of decay for hours before he could finally scrub it off. But the average person does not easily handle such a scent without practice. The newest recruits to the order often went on several missions before they could stand it without bile filling their throats. His own first experience left him nauseated for days and unable to keep anything more than light broth down.

Evrrot steps over the splayed hooves, “Alright, so that dead guy was on this horse obviously. Probably riding away from whatever settlement is down the path. His horse dies, he goes on foot, and then he dies.”

“Or the other way around,” Evie counters, “Horse could’ve thrown him, then the horse went and died.”

Roshan hops lightly over the body, kneeling by the tree with a dagger of his own and carving a new tally to the set, “Maybe he was carrying the horse,” the old man offers sagely, “He was very tired.”

All eyes turn on him and Roshan simply grins.

With the tally carved, Evrrot quickly jumps ahead of the holy man and presses the group further down the pointed path. Emet steps carefully over the corpse, glancing back at Evie to see if she desires a hand. But the half elf stares off behind them, unawares. The path they’ve walked is already half swallowed by mist, the large wagon trail long gone from view. She twists back with a sigh, face quickly shifting as she gives him a glare to move. They continue on.

Eerie becomes troubling when the path leads to a third tree with the same forty-three tallies and another arrow. The lack of a corpse this time does little to alleviate the hook twisting in Emet’s stomach. It lifts and snarls his insides, not in pain, but in anticipation. Anticipation of the moment it will all go wrong.

This is what it felt like that day. The day he should’ve listened to his instincts.

The arrow points to a swallowed path. All sign of trail and trees vanish behind a solid wall of fog so thick Emet cannot see even a glimpse of what lies beyond. It bisect everything perfectly, trees ending abruptly as though severed by blade. As though a curtain were drawn across the land on a giant stage. The line the mist cuts across the path is unnaturally defined, too sharp and perfect and to be natural, yet permeable as proven by the grasses swaying in and out, vanishing instantly on the other side, yet returning again.

The foreboding hook twists deeper with the echo of Emet’s past. Of dark crypts and silent darkness, a day that started in laughter and ended in screams. Blood spilled beneath the sickening brightness of beautiful sunny day, the color forever tainted in red. They should’ve stayed on the well-worn wagon path. They never should have cut through these godforsaken woods. His instincts tell him to turn back now, but going back on his own still seems a far more foolish idea in these unknown lands.

Emet steels himself. A chilled touch settles over his shoulder. If the self-chosen leaders get him killed—if they ruin what he’s given everything for—Emet will never allow them a moment’s peace. Not in this life or the next. He already knows Kelemvor will never collect his twice damned soul. Not after what he did. So he’ll have all the time in eternity’s glass to make good on his vow. Maybe this one he’ll keep.

“This repetition is how the kid died.” He glares at the severed path, “We’re going in circles.”

“This isn’t the same as the last tree,” Evie says, “The old guy put an extra mark in that one. Plus, no dead things.”

“Not yet.”

But Emet suspects they will pass that tree again and the horse one beyond. And if his instinct proves right, they will do so again and again until they too die of exhaustion, carving tallies into trees until they can carve no more. There’s madness here and he’ll be damned if it catches him off guard. But the dead kid probably thought the same thing. Now he rots with a skeletal finger ever reaching for the path that killed him. A warning they did not heed.

The wall looms before them, vast and endless until it vanishes into the grey of the skies. Tendrils of thick mist swirl and twist like eels against the edges, unseen bodies pressing against the glass but never breaking through. The snaking, winding movement is almost hypnotic in the terrible silence.

Evie’s eyes narrow, “Anyone else think this fog is fucky?”

“Yes,” Emet and Roshan answer in unison.

The holy man taps his staff, warm dawns light spreading across the wood like honey. Though it glows in the deep reds and oranges of the morning sun, the light does little to chase away the sickly grey of this place.

He nods satisfied, “But this is the path, so let’s go.”

Emet blanches as Roshan lifts his shepherd’s crook and presses toward the wall of fog without another thought. He vanishes instantly. Whatever god this holy man follows, Emet hopes they have as much faith in their followers as Roshan does in them because this is about as foolish as sticking your hand in a nesting viper’s den and trusting it will not bite.

Evrrot—never more than a half step behind the holy man—strolls past the moon elf as casually and carelessly as choosing a garden path to stroll, vanishing almost instantly behind the old human. Not even a shadow is left to hint at their passing.

Emet stands speechless, too shocked to believe what he’s just seen.

The words finally come to him, “Well, fuck.”

#curse of strahd #dnd fic #strahd von zarovich #barovia #dark fantasy #gothic fantasy #gothic fiction #adventure fiction #fantasy fiction #fiction #fiction writing #my fiction #my writing #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #Tales of No One

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little-fics · 3 years

Text

glass

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Summary: you break a plate on accident, your daddy and uncle Dean come to the rescue.

Warnings: age regression, broken plate, triggered reader, hints at abuse, blood, cut, anxiety/panic attack, I could've missed some so please babies, read at your own risk

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: really like this oneeeee, thanks for reading lovelies <3

You're walking through the kitchen, minding your own business, and you collide with the sharp corner of the table. The plate resting in your hand hit the floor, shattering. In a split second you're panicking, the sound of broken glass reminding you too much of your bad days.

Memories flooding through your head, voices booming all around you. You're looking at your hands, the slippery culprits now shaking like a leaf. Your vision is spotty, lungs burning, air barely coming in, face losing feeling soon. Your eyes move to the shattered ceramic, overflowing with tears now. You realize the 'mistake' you've made and start clumsily shuffling around. You're picking up the biggest pieces, placing them as soft as you can in your hand.

Sam instantly heard the plate break, immediately jumping up from his chair in the library. He was rushing to you, and when he arrived in the doorway, he takes in your rattling body. Your breaths are choked, whole body racking as you're picking up pieces of glass? Sam instantly rushed over to you, kneeling in front of you, "You with me baby?" A hand coming up inches away from the hand holding the pieces of glass, his other coming around to your shoulder.

As you're picking up a piece Sam places a hand on your shoulder and under your hand holding the glass as gently as possible, but it still scares you. You let out a loud gasp, clenching your hands together, another sob coming out of you, "I-I'm sorry-" He lifts you from your squatting position, pulling your legs around his waist. He's rubbing your back, whispering in your ear as he carried you, "Shhh, my little baby, nothing to be sorry about, you're okay, it's okay." You're sobbing, shaking, mumbling ''m sorry' over and over, you can't open your eyes, you're just stuck gripping onto him and struggling to breathe between broken sobs.

He sits you on the counter next to the sink, your legs and arms still around him. "Hey, baby," he's trying to reach you in your thoughts, "baby, can you look at me?" He's rubbing your back, feeling the wetness grow on his back, knowing he needed to check it. After about fifteen seconds, he decided he had to check your hand. He brought his hands to your ears, taking a deep breath and turning his head as far away from you as possible, "Dean!" His voice was dripping with fear and concern. Your body jolted when he did so, and he felt it, instantly consoling you, "Oh I know, daddy was so loud and it was scary. I know baby."

Dean does into the room, hearing your cries echoing through the room as he sees the back of Sam's shirt covered in blood that's coming from your hand? He's rushing over to you, softly speaking to you, his hand hovering over your wrist, "Hey, little one, wanna let Uncle Dean see your hand for a minute?" He gently grabs your wrist, slowly leading your away from Sam's neck.

You're starting to calm down, Sam's scent engulfing you, his words bringing you back to him. "It's okay bug, I now it's scary but daddy's here. Take a deep breath for me, come on." You're trying to follow along to him, Dean pulling your arm away from him bringing some feeling back into your arm. Your breathing is still scattered, but doesn't burn as bad, Sam's voice coming in clearer as you hear the water coming on. "You feel my hand on your back sweetness?" He makes big circles on your back, applying the slightest amount of pressure. You enjoy it for a moment, trying to take good breaths for your daddy, then nod to him. "You think you can tell me what letter I'm making?" You nod again, "Okay, remember to keep focusing on what I'm writing yeah?" Another nod, and as he starts drawing lines on your back water hits your hand causing you to let out a small cry and jerk your hand away from Dean.

"Hey, baby, you gotta let Dean make sure you're okay," his other hand is enclosing your face, kisses planting on top of your head, trying and succeeding in wrapping you in his love. He continues, "Focus on my hand baby, what letter is daddy drawing?" Dean's hand touching your wrist barely registers as you focus on the letter. You hiss at the water rushing over your hand again, shaking your head at Sam, letting him know you don't know the letter. "Okay, let me do it again," he traces two exaggerated lines on your back, forming a L. "What letter baby?" He is wiping away some stray tears as you choke out, "L."

Sam hums happily, "Such a good, smart girl, it was L!" His voice is soft and soothing, Deans movements on your hand becoming a little more noticeable as you start to breathe better. "Ready for the next one?" You nod keeping your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. He traces a circle on your back, then a line, you shrug not sure, a little too distract by the thump thump thump of his heart. "Circle," he traces a circle, "and a line," he traces the line, repeating the letter once more. Your voice is wavering, not confident in yourself, "a?"

He rubs your back gently, delivering kisses where he can reach, "So smart! Let's see if we can get another, yeah?" You nod, Sam sensing the small amount of eagerness and feeling relieved that you're starting to get back to being his happy little girl. He starts a point at the top of your back, drawing straight down and circling back. I know that one, you thought happily. Your heart skips a beat, excited to show your daddy how smart you are. "That one's d!"

Sam smiles even though you can't see him, knowing that you're gonna be okay. He's been watching Dean, wanting to make sure you were okay. It was a long cut but not deep, spreading across the inside of your fingers. Fingers bleed bad, and look scarier than they are. "Okay, okay, you're too good at this!" A small nuzzle into his chest from you, the praise pleasing your tiny headspace. He traces a v with a tail on your back, causing you to giggle, "I know the word!" He chuckled, "There's more!" He see's your brows furrow in consideration before speaking solemnly, "Okay, papa, write it."

His heart swelled, his perfect baby makes him feel magic running through his veins. He traced, another vertical like and circle, opposite from the d, and you bounced on the counter. "Yes, daddy! I know it!" He glances at Dean, who is putting small gauze and tape over the slices on your fingers, Dean focused on his task, but smiling at you and Sam. Sam speaks softly, but with admiration, "Ya hear that Uncle Dean? My girls got it!" Dean's voice dripping excitement, "Well I don't know what it is! Tell me what it is sweet pea!"

"Issa ladybug right?" Sam quickly litters kisses all over your face and shoulders. Your arm moved around his waist, face burying into him as he makes you blush with his words, "Genius baby! So smart and perfect, did so good!" You're giggling at him, Dean letting go of your hand, "All patched up sweetheart. You wanna come with me and watch some toons while daddy cleans up?" You squeeze to Sam, not wanting to let go, causing his heart to break a little. "Baby, Daddy's got some blood-" you try to raise your head but he stops you, "Little girls are too small to see things like that, right angel?" You blush, nodding, "Yes, daddy."

"Good girl, now I need you to keep your eyes closed while Dean grabs you, real tight 'til he says okay?" You nod, placing tiny kisses on his chest. Dean reaches for you, your eyes close real, real tight. Dean takes Sam's place, moving you to the other side of the sink. Sam's hand didn't come off your back, gliding with Dean. "Good girl," he butterfly kisses your nose consistently, letting you return it with a giggle. "He's gonna clean your hand, and I'm gonna go clean up." He kisses your forehead and you whine when you feel him leave.

Dean is quickly rinsing off the dried blood on your other arm that transferred from your other hand as he shushes you, "I know bug, just a second." After he finishes, he prepares to lift you, speaking softly, "Keep those eyes shut darlin'." When you nod, he lifts you, carrying you out of the kitchen, careful to avoid the plate and blood in the floor. You feel him lean, but keep your eyes closed, clinging to him tightly. He straightens back up and walks you to the tv room, sitting on the couch softly.

"Alright baby," he tapped your shoulder twice with a feather tap, "open up." You lift your head, greeted with Deans wide smile and a lavender beaded pacifier in his hand. You hummed excitedly, bouncing up and whining slightly when he didn't give it to you. He puts it against your lips, your mouth happily taking it in and sucking on it, laying back down on him.

After no more than ten minutes, you're squirming. You want your daddy, not uncle Dean. "Peanut," Dean sighs, "daddy's coming, give him a minute, yeah?" You whine, fussing a bit, Dean stands with you, pushing your head into his neck. He starts pacing the room with you, bouncing you slightly. You're still squirming a little, trying to escape his grasp. "Wan' papa," you whisper, Dean feels a tear slip onto his shoulder and he's shushing you. "He's coming baby, he's gotta get real clean! You don't like when daddy's stinky do you?" You giggle a little, shaking your head, "No stinky papa." Dean coos at you, "That's right little girl, daddy needs to get to smelling good again, doesn't he?" That elicits a heavier laugh from you, tucking yourself back into his neck.

Around ten minutes after that, Sam walks in, holding a pair of rainbow leggings and one of his t-shirts. His hand comes to your back, nodding you out of your sleepy state, and you're instantly reaching for his arms. "Papa," your hands find his shoulders to support yourself while you transfer arms. "I know baby," he's holding you now, but it's short lived when he gently sets you on the couch. You're whining and whimpering, reaching out to him, being careful not to squeeze your sore little fingers. He shakes his head, "No baby, don't you wanna get these uncomfy clothes off of you?" When he says that you realize how tight the clothes you're wearing are, how rough they feel against your skin. You're suddenly squirming, pulling at your clothes messily.

"Oh little girl, arms up now." He's speaking softly but sternly, causing you to stop moving and lift your arms. He picks up your shirt, lifting it up over your face and back down, making silly faces at you repetitively, "Where my baby?" the shirt is covering your face, "There she is!" He moves the shirt out of the way again, only stopping when your giggles die down. He slides his shirt on you, it was a little oversized on him, it swallows you. You're bunching it in your hands, whining when he pulls down your rough blue jeans. He slides the leggings on, the soft, stretchy material making you kick your legs playfully.

Once the leggings are all the way up, Sam grabs your ankles, laughing at you, "Oh! Daddy's got you now little ladybug, what you gonna do?" You giggle at him, a blessed sound to Sam and Dean, twisting your body in unnatural ways to try and escape the mean ankle monster. "Papaaaa," you kick your legs a little seriously, causing Sam to raise his eyebrows, a test telling you that you know better than to hit your daddy. "Pease papa, jus' wan' you hol' me." You reach your arms up and Sam's heart melts.

He tickles up your legs, grazing your sides, causing you to twist and turn again, before he's lifting you by your underarms, putting you around his waist. Dean comes in, you're not sure when he left, but he's got your favorite spaceship sippy cup and your reaching for it. He laughs, handing it to you as Sam sits with you. "I thought we could watch Tink, you wanna watch Tink peanut?" You nod at Dean, he presses a kiss to your cheek and plays the movie, Sam letting you adjust so you can watch the television.

Despite your sore hand, it was going to be a good day with your daddy and uncle Dean. They know when you need extra attention, know when you're gonna be their little baby and they wouldn't change it for the world. They just wish that you wouldn't have regressed this way, forced by a trigger violently. They know you're hurting so they're gonna be by your side all day long.

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

ok so firstly I love any loops and jules fic but secondly could we have one where jules is having a really tough time (either missing loops/ picked on etc. ) and then we see loops (not coops) surprise him and is just so protective - just sibling fluff that’s it

Oh Jules, I’m sorry I did this to you. What a wonderful prompt, though! I’m always down to write sibling fluff! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW for bullying (older kids picking on younger kids)

Contrary to popular belief, Jules didn’t brag about his brother every minute of every day. There was no point, and he wanted to be known for his own talents rather than living in Remus’ shadow for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, some people didn’t seem to understand that.

A balled of lined paper smacked into the back of his head. “Heads up, Loopy!”

Jules threw the ball back; it bounced off the end of the table and hit the ground pathetically. “Nice shot,” Aidan snorted as he passed, bumping his shoulder against Jules’ and making him stumble. Several people laughed. His face burned with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I bet your brother’s really proud of that,” Luke sneered. He was a big kid, far bigger than Jules both in height and muscle even though he was only a couple years older.

“Don’t talk about my brother,” Jules said, much quieter than intended.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “What’re you going do about it, Loopy?”

“Just shut up.”

“Who’s gonna stop me?” He leaned across the cafeteria table and Jules fought the urge to back away. “Huh? Your brother? He’s never around.”

“He’s busy.”

“He doesn’t want to be here.”

“He does,” Jules insisted, feeling his throat tighten. “He does, he just doesn’t have time—”

“He’s a celebrity, dude, no wonder he doesn’t want his tagalong brother around.”

It’s not true, Jules told himself. It’s not true. Time and time again, Remus had told him that hockey came second to family, but after months of not seeing him it was starting to feel false. “Shut up.”

Luke shifted in his seat and folded his hands. “Face it, Loopy: your brother’s not around because he’d rather spend time with his cool friends than an annoying little kid.”

“Leave me alone.” Jules’ voice cracked and Luke grinned.

“You’re gonna cry?” he asked, full of false sympathy. “Aw, poor baby.”

“It’s not true.” It was getting harder to believe the words. “He visits whenever he can.”

The lunch bell rang before Luke could retaliate; he ruffled Jules’ hair too hard to be comfortable and left, already laughing with his group of friends. What a dick, Jules thought as he swallowed down the tears.

He made it through the rest of his classes in a daze and walked home on muscle memory. It was a cold day for April, but maybe he could blame his red-rimmed eyes on the wind. Maybe Luke is right, part of him argued. There wasn’t a lot of evidence, but it was enough to make him want to throw up.

“Hey, baby, how was your day?” his mother called when he opened the door.

That was the tipping point, the tiny pebble that shattered the cracked glass dam holding back his tears. Jules sobbed once, dropped his backpack on the floor, and ran for the safety of his bedroom. “Jules—” The slam of his door cut his father’s concern short.

He grabbed the family picture off his wall and threw it across the room—there was no glass or frame, only tape, so seeing it flutter to the ground was far less satisfying than he had hoped. Remus had him on his shoulders for the picture; they all looked so happy. Jules sat down on the other side of his bed and buried his face in his arms, letting the emotions he had been holding in for three full hours flood out.

Deep down, he knew Luke was a liar and a bully with nothing better to do than pick on younger kids. That didn’t mean his words hurt any less.

A few minutes later, there was a gentle knock on the door. “Go away!”

There was a brief pause, then another knock.

“Just—just please give me a minute, mom!”

“I’m not mom.” Jules’ heart skipped a beat. “Can I come in?”

You’ve never been around to help me before. Anger reared up in his chest. “No!”

Remus hesitated for a moment. Jules hoped he was shocked, stunned, hurt. “Okay.”

There was a rustling noise; he looked around the foot of the bed to see a shadow in the crack beneath the door. “Are you—what are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

“Mom, make him go away!”

“What did I do, Jules?” Remus sounded sad. There was none of his usual teasing in his tone. The anger twisted around in Jules and he scrubbed at the tears and snot on his face.

“When did you get here?” He knew he was being rude; his mother would have given him a pursed-lips look if he talked like that to anyone normally.

“A couple hours ago. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“It’s a terrible surprise. Go away.”

“Not until you tell me what I did.”

Jules took a few shallow breaths before answering. “You’re never here. Never.”

“I know. I’m s—”

“I hate you,” he sobbed, bringing his knees tighter to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

There was a long stretch of silence on the other side of the door, but the shadow remained. “That’s fair,” Remus said quietly.

“No, it’s not!” Jules clambered to his feet and stomped over to the door, wrenching it open. “It’s not fair! I shouldn’t hate you, this is your job! You should—you should—”

Remus looked up at him from his crosslegged seat on the carpet. “I should what?”

“You should yell at me. Or make me open the door, or do anything that makes me angry at you.” He sniffled and hugged himself.

“When have I ever yelled at you?”

“The rat. And the water balloons. And when I stole your sticks. And when I froze your underwear.”

Remus winced slightly. “Fair point. I don’t keep yelling once you’re in the room, though, right?”

Jules deflated. “No.”

“So I’m not going to yell at you. Also, your bedroom smells weird, so I don’t want to go in there unless I have to.”

A smile tried forcing its way out and Jules covered it with his best scowl. “My room doesn’t smell weird.”

Remus sniffed the air, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Why are you here?”

“Mom said she was getting ice cream.”

Jules perked up. “Did she?”

“No.” Remus held up the car keys. “We can fix that problem, though. Go get your shoes.”

“Can I drive?’

“If you can convince dad, sure.” Remus stood up and mussed his hair; his hand was gentle, though, unlike Luke’s. It was a welcome change.

He grabbed his sneakers from under his bed and hopped down the hall as he pulled them on. “Dad, can I drive?”

His father didn’t even look up from the paper. “When Hell freezes over, buddy.”

“Lyall,” his mother scolded from the kitchen, though her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Remus, remember not to swear around your brother!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he said, holding the door open for Jules as he shrugged his coat on.

They drove in relative silence, save for the Top Rock Hits of the Eighties cassette that they had each heard half a billion times. Remus pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru and rattled off Jules’ favorite without even having to ask. Somehow, that both soothed him and upset him even more. He handed the cone over carefully, stuck his blizzard in the cupholder, and started driving in the opposite direction of the house.

“Are you kidnapping me?” Jules asked, licking a stray drip of vanilla off the cone.

“I don’t think I can, seeing as we’re related.”

“You can. You don’t have custody.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Why don’t you, Mr. Fancy Degree?”

“This might surprise you, but they don’t exactly cover the intricacies of kidnapping in PT school.”

“Shame.”

Remus made a noise of agreement around the straw of his Blizzard as they rolled to a stop at the red light. “So, are we going to talk?”

“We already are.”

“Dude.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He made a face when a chunk of Oreo got stuck the straw. “If you get that out before the next light, you can have a sip.”

Jules took it and squeezed the thin plastic. “Luke Sanders is an asshole.”

“Language.” The car stopped again and Jules showed off the unblocked straw. “Do continue, though.”

“You’ve hit every red light since we left the house. That’s got to be a curse.” He took a long sip, then handed it across the console. “You like hanging out with me, right?”

“Obviously. You’re, like, my favorite person.” Remus gave him a confused look.

“Okay, cool.” Jules felt his hands start to shake again, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t from his ice cream. Just hearing him say that made a tsunami of relief run through him. “Cool.”

“Did Luke Sanders tell you I didn’t?”

“He said a lot of stuff.”

Remus pulled into a parking lot, then took the key out and turned in his seat. “Like what?”

Jules shrugged one shoulder. “That you don’t want to be here.”

“And?” His voice had softened.

“And that it’s my fault, since I’m an annoying little tagalong.” Jules picked at the paper wrapper around his cone and didn’t look up. “He’s got a p—”

“If you say he’s got a point, all your underwear is going in the freezer.” All traces of gentleness were gone from his tone, leaving tightly-controlled fury in its place.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t—” Remus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t apologize, Jules.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yeah, because some little shit was picking on my brother and I wasn’t there to kick his ass.”

“I can handle it.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him even more. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Sometimes.”

“Have you told anyone?”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be a tattletale.”

“Jules, there’s a difference between being a tattletale and reporting a bully.” Remus tipped his chin up. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jules’ lower lip wobbled. “I missed you. I always miss you, but he’s been really awful recently and he keeps saying the same stupid stuff over and over.”

Remus’ nose and cheeks reddened. “I missed you, too. If I could be here all the time, I would.”

“I know it’s not your fault, and I know you’re busy.” He wiped away another tear and tried to pull himself together. “But it’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. “It’s not fair that I’m gone nine months out of the year, and it’s not right that people are making fun of you for it. Hang on for a second, okay?”

Jules nodded, still drying his cheeks. Remus got out of the car and jogged to the other side, then opened the passenger door and gestured for him to get out; as soon as his sneakers touched the ground, he was lifted almost a foot into the air. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he managed, burying his face in his brother’s neck.

Remus kissed the side of his head and held him close. “I’m sorry I’m not around more.”

He hooked his chin over Remus’ shoulder. “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be here whenever you can? I know that might not be often, but just…when you can.”

He felt Remus’ chest hitch against him. “Always,” he whispered. “Always.”

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

there ain’t a language for the things I feel

4.8k || ao3

In the wake of a tragedy, the firehouse family tries to move on and pick up the pieces while holding onto hope that seems to slip further and further away.

But nothing's over until it's over and they're going to pick up all the pieces and put them back together, just in case. ----- Day 9 of @911lonestarangstweek: Free Choice

Me getting this done and up just at the end of angst week? More likely than you’d think.

Several people read parts of this as I was working, but @moviegeek03 needs a special thanks for helping me with some of the specifics 💜

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

The house at the end of the street looked like all the others.

Its blue siding blended in perfectly with its companions on the quiet residential street and as Judd pulled into the familiar driveway, nothing looked amiss. From the outside, it looked like nothing had happened. From where they stood, everything was fine and this was just a normal day and an average visit. Right now they could be heading to game night or dinner. They could be stopping by to say hello, popping by unannounced as they so often did. But the minute they opened the door that illusion would shatter and they’d have to face the grim reality waiting for them, so they all hovered at the edge of the front walk by some unspoken agreement as they allowed themselves to avoid this for just a few moments longer.

But ignorance couldn’t last forever so eventually, they moved forward.

It was Paul that made the first move, pulling out his keys and selecting the correct one as he approached the door. He slid the key into the lock without a word, all eyes on him as he turned it, pushing open the door to reveal the scene beyond it. There was another moment of collective hesitation on the threshold before Judd stepped forward, grabbing the yellow crime scene tape and pulling it down so they could enter their friends’ living room - or at least, what was left of it.

The once familiar space was unrecognizable as the furniture lay in shambles; splinters of each piece scattered across the room. If they hadn’t known where they were they never would have recognized the space. Nancy toed at the remains of a chair, shifting aside the debris with her foot only to reveal the dark red stain on the floor underneath. She turned away and let the pieces fall back into it.

They had just left the hospital, they had all seen the end result of this destruction. They had already known how bad it could be. Seeing it in this familiar context though? It drove it all home in the most unapologetic way. Nancy in particular was no stranger to the sight of blood, but seeing it in your friends’ home, knowing it belonged to one of them? That was something else entirely and no amount of professional detachment could make this okay. She turned away from the stain - ignoring the sound of glass crunching under her shoe from the shattered picture frames strewn across the floor - beside her to find Paul fingering an indent in the wall with a grim expression. When he felt her looking he met her gaze.

“Knife mark,” he said by way of explanation, his eyes roaming the rest of the walls. “Several of them, by the looks of it.”

Somehow the silence in the room seemed to grow even heavier in the wake of Paul’s words as they all took in the destruction and the damage and the fact that their friends had nearly died in their own home; that they still might, even now.

The silence was finally broken by Judd, his typical drawl much harsher than usual as it sliced through the quiet and dismay that filled the room.

“What the fuck happened here?” he demanded to the room at large, but he got no response. It was the same question they all had and as of yet, there were no answers. Only fear, pain, and a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, this was as bad as it got. That maybe by some miracle their friends would pull through this, would survive this senseless act of violence.

That somehow TK and Carlos would be okay, because the alternative was too awful to consider.

---------

Marjan had been wrapping up practice when she got the call. It was Mateo on the other line, his shaking voice informing her that he was driving Captain Strand to St. David’s because he had been in the kitchen with the older man and Buttercup when he had been informed.

It was what he had said next that had sent her crashing back down onto the bench, skates in hand and concerned expressions trained on her as she tried her best to not absolutely shatter at the edge of the roller rink.

Nancy was at her sister’s, rolling her eyes at the antics of her nephews as she stirred the sauce on the stove and her sister gossiped about their Aunt Susan and her much younger boyfriend when her phone rang. Then she was out the door, the spoon abandoned on the counter with a shouted apology to her sister as she grabbed her coat and keys and tried to hide how much her hands were shaking as she reached for the doorknob and stepped out into the chilly Austin night. At least, she reasoned as she hurried to her car, if anyone did notice the way she trembled they would assume it was the cold — they didn’t have to know it was because it felt like her world was fraying at the seams.

Paul had been on a date and he felt bad for leaving her at the restaurant, he really did, but there was no other option. He knew his mother would string him up if she ever heard he had done something so rude to any of his dates, but he also had a feeling that in this case even Cynthia Stickland would allow him this one. Maybe he should have taken her home first but she had assured him it was fine and he knew that he couldn’t have handled the wait. He knew that every moment he was driving in the opposite direction of the hospital would weigh on him, that he would crack under the strain and that was not second date territory. So he returned to the table after he ended his call, voice tight as he made his hurried apologies and she assured him that no, it was fine, that she hoped everything turned out okay.

He had somehow managed a smile as he turned away and he thanked her for her sentiments, even if he didn’t share just how desperately he wished they came true.

Judd had been getting their daughter ready for her evening bath when Grace had appeared in the doorway with his phone in her hand and eyes full of fear. He had taken the phone from her and sat heavily on the edge of the tub as Mateo quietly explained what had happened, and where they would be. Grace had already scooped up little Charlotte and merely shook her head when he looked at her.

“You need to go, Judd,” she said softly, squeezing their little girl close as she spoke, “go be with them, and keep me posted. Tell them I’ll be praying.”

And there was so much Judd wanted to say to that, so many thoughts in his head and so many feelings fighting for dominance that in the end, he said nothing. He simply stood on shaking legs and leaned forward to press a kiss to each of his girls, pausing for another moment to hold them both close before he stepped around them, grabbing his coat and heading out into the night.

As he climbed into his truck he tried to tell himself that it would all be okay, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

----------

“I talked to Mitchell before we left,” Marjan finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence filling the room. “She said that APD is done processing, so we can do whatever we want with...what’s left.”

Paul looked up, pulling his gaze from where it had settled on a dark stain on the throw rug. “Did she say if they have any leads? Or even an idea of what happened?”

She shook her head sadly, “No. There’s not much they can go on. None of the neighbors saw anything and all the blood...well, it won’t help to find their attackers, apparently. As for what happened, apparently they have some theories, but we won’t really know anything until one of them wakes up.”

“If they wake up,” Nancy added, voice harsh and quiet as she looked at the destruction around them. She didn’t want to be a pessimist, but the others didn’t know. They knew it was bad, but they hadn’t gotten the rundown from one of the trauma nurses on duty. They didn’t have the medical training to know that what they had been through; that the injuries they had weren’t the kind you always recovered from.

That they could just as easily be fatal, given the chance.

Nobody chastised her for being pessimistic. They simply moved on, nobody willing to dwell on the questions they didn’t have answers to and the fears that they did.

“We should still get this cleaned up,” Mateo said eventually, “so when they get home it looks like nothing happened.”

His words were full of a certainty Nancy wished she felt, but no one countered him either. They all wanted him to be right, Nancy knew and she understood. She wanted him to be right too; she wanted that more than anything.

So she took off her jacket and laid it across the ledge by the front door before pushing up her sleeves heading towards the kitchen.

“I’ll grab some garbage bags,” she called over her shoulder. “Once we’ve cleaned up all the stuff we can’t save we’ll have a better idea of what we’re working with.”

Noises of agreement followed her out of the room and as she pulled open the cupboard under the sink where she knew they stashed the cleaning supplies she allowed herself a moment to embrace Mateo’s unshakable optimism. They would get their home cleaned up so they had somewhere to come home to. They would get it back to normal so it looked like their home and not the nightmare they had walked into.

They would put everything back together so maybe, just maybe, someday when she closed her eyes she would see how it had been before, and not the scene of destruction they had walked into today.

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

“What happened?” Marjan demanded as she stepped into the waiting room, softening when she saw the faces before her all full of the same fear and panic she was feeling.

“We don’t know,” Captain Strand said eventually with a small, helpless shrug. “Nobody knows. One of their neighbors was walking their dog when she saw the door open. She said something didn’t feel right so she went to check, and she found them.”

He didn’t provide any other details, didn’t specify how they were found and that more than anything filled her with dread.

“Gabriel is trying to get answers,” another voice shared, this one soft and thick. Marjan looked over to see Carlos’s mother in the seat beside the captain, her face pale and eyes full of worry, “I think maybe he thinks it’ll be easier to process if we know. Or maybe he just needs something else to focus on. Either way, he doesn’t seem to be having much luck.”

Marjan followed the older woman’s nod to a figure in the corner, speaking into his phone as he turned his hat over and over in his free hand as his foot tapped against the floor. Even from here his distress was palpable; the fear and worry etched clearly into every inch of his face. It made her wonder once again what had happened. She may have only known Gabriel Reyes for a short period of time and not very well at all, but she knew him well enough to know that whatever had happened was bad. Gabriel Reyes loved his son, she didn’t doubt that. But the man was a Texas Ranger; he had spent a lifetime seeing unthinkable things. Yet here he was, clearly shaken to his very core. For something to have affected him this much...the very idea left a cold feeling of dread seeping through her core.

“Do we at least know how they are?” she questioned again, voice quieter in the face of all the hurt and fear encompassing them.

It was Tommy who spoke this time, the paramedic captain’s voice tight with barely concealed pain and worry, “They’re alive, and that’s something.”

The way she said it made Marjan wonder what she knew and what she wasn’t saying. She wanted to push, she wanted to demand answers. She wanted to know what had happened to her friends; to two of the people that had become family to her.

But it was clear they were all in the same boat, that none of these people knew any more than she did and that they all cared just as much. So she swallowed her questions and sank into the empty seat beside Mateo, glancing around at the others as she did. In some ways this was horrifyingly familiar but in others, it felt so different. Every other time they had at least known what had brought them here and what they were facing. This unknown entity; the uncertainty hung heavy in the air around them and it made her queasy. The questions mixed with her fear, leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But there were no answers to be had and, even if there were, they wouldn’t help.

She sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable chair as she accepted the inevitable: there was nothing she could do but wait, and hope for the best.

---------

People had always asked Paul why he wasn’t a cop, given his propensity to solve puzzles and spot patterns. There were the obvious answers, of course: that the police force was less than tolerant generally speaking, that the very institution wasn’t something Paul thought he could really take a part in.

Then there was the less obvious but just as true reason: Paul wanted to help people, but he didn’t want to watch them suffer. He wanted to help people to escape the worst moments of their lives, not pick up the pieces after. Firefighters got to do that, cops didn’t.

In that regard, he had a lot of respect for Carlos. How he could do that and still maintain a modicum of sanity and compassion was beyond Paul, but he truly admired him for it. Which, somehow, made this even worse.

Paul already knew that he didn’t have crime scene investigation in him, that hadn’t been a question. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to put together the pieces as he stood amongst the destruction of his friends’ living room. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the patterns, from hypothesizing how each bit of damage was caused; on how each bit of blood was spilled. It filled his head with unwanted images the moments as it happened; of what they must have been through.

He had never hated his skills more than he did at this moment. He didn’t want to see this, to imagine what might have happened. He didn’t want to move aside some of the debris to find some blood and wonder whose it was. He didn’t want to dwell on the idea of two of his closest friends suffering; being brutally attacked in their own home. A place that had felt safe, that had almost been a second home to Paul. But that illusion of safety had been shattered and now it just felt like an awful reminder, and he would give anything to be able to look at it objectively.

A part of him wanted to keep going, to keep trying to solve the puzzle before him. It would help, a voice in his mind said, it could bring whoever did this to justice.

And that was tempting. He did want to see whoever had done this pay for what they did. But he also knew that it wouldn’t actually change anything. Carlos and TK would still be hurt, the rest of their family would still be suffering.

------

Home invasion.

That was the reigning theory now. It was a home invasion gone terribly, horrifically wrong. They didn’t know whether they had been home from the start or if they had interrupted it; they didn’t know if it was random or if it was something that had been planned; if they had been targeted. They didn’t know anything, and Paul hated not knowing things.

This was one of those things, someone had said. One of those random acts of violence with no real motive or explanation. Realistically, Paul knew they happened. He just couldn’t understand how it had happened to his friends. He had never put too much stock in the idea of fate - he firmly believed that everyone made their own choices in life - but he couldn’t help but wonder why them. Why did TK and Carlos - two people who had given so much of themselves to help others each and every day - deserve to have so much suffering?

Eventually, they did find the culprit, or culprits, as they soon discovered when one of them tried to use TK’s credit card to pay at a gas station only a few miles from their house, but having the answers didn’t make it make any more sense.

Paul had already known that catching their attacker wouldn’t make everything magically better, but he hadn’t imagined it would make anything worse. But as the detective on the case explained, he found he was wrong. Apparently, according to the one who would talk, he and his buddies had broken into an empty home. It was early evening and the lights were off so they had figured it was a good enough target. But they had been interrupted, he said, when two men had entered the house and caught them in the act. They had all been high, he admitted, so the details were fuzzy, but he knew that one of their group tended to have a particularly violent streak and that that night, he couldn’t be reasoned with.

It was him who had used the knife, their informer clarified, but another had helped. He had thought the two men who had come in were dead by the time he had gotten his buddies to stop, he had admitted quietly, so he had pulled them out of the house as fast as he could and had never looked back.

The room was so silent when the detective finished speaking that you could have heard a pin drop. The sound of Nancy’s chair scraping against the floor as she stood and rushed out of the room cut through the space like a gunshot and it was all Paul could do to simply breathe. Slowly the others reacted too, as Judd started swearing up and down and Marjan rose to follow Nancy, her own eyes moist but her back straight as she strode out of the room. He heard his Captain and Ranger Reyes asking questions but for once, Paul managed to shut that part of himself off.

There was no making sense of this, he decided, so the best thing he could do was focus on helping them move forward instead; assuming that they got that chance.

-----------

Mateo was pretty sure he had developed a stress response to the sight of Ikea furniture.

It always seemed to appear in the aftermath of a tragedy, and he had seen it too many times in the past few years. After the condo fire, after his house blew up, and now as they set about replacing some of the furniture that had once stood in TK and Carlos’s living room.

Maybe it should be a good thing, he reasoned. The furniture came with the rebuilding, after all.

It had come when TK and Carlos had first bought this place and needed a couple of staple pieces quickly. They would buy real furniture soon, Carlos vowed, but until they could get around to it, some cheap and easy pieces would do. Mateo wondered if they had ever gotten around to it. He kind of hoped they hadn’t.

“Man I hope they appreciate this,” Paul said as he flipped through the convoluted instructions for the bookshelf.

“Of course they will.” Nancy countered from the other side of the room. “If they know what’s good for them.”

The light and optimistic banter was a change from the days before. The others seemed more hopeful now, readier to believe the best of the situation. Mateo supposed he had himself to thank for it, he was the one that had insisted from the start that they would be okay, after all.

But the thing is, he’s not so sure he even believes it anymore.

As the others’ optimism grows, his own seems to fade. It’s been too long, a voice whispered in his mind. If they aren’t okay by now, they never will be again.

It’s a thought that keeps returning and as many times as he shoves it aside, as he pushes it back; it just keeps coming and coming and coming. Mateo has always been the optimist. He has always been the one to think the best of everyone except himself. He had always believed that everything would work out.

But he’s tired. There have been so many times and so many nights spent hoping when everyone else was doubting. There have been so many times when the worst should have happened but didn’t, by some miracle. And Mateo was okay with the idea of miracles - he had been raised Catholic, after all. But he couldn’t help but think they were running out, and that was something he wasn’t ready to face.

So he shoved it back again and plastered on a smile as he sorted through the packaging to find the piece Paul was describing. Mateo Chavez was an optimist, he reminded himself. And optimists didn’t give up on their friends.

No matter how bad things might look.

----------

From the moment Grace had handed him his phone time had seemed to slow.

It was the waiting, Judd thought, that made it drag on. All the hours sitting in the waiting room; the sleepless nights spent dreading a phone call to say that the worst had happened. They moved forward and they moved on because they had to, but every moment seemed to stretch as they grew further and further from a time when everything was fine and closer to the moment that could change everything.

Hope seemed to ebb and flow as time marched on and optimism came in spikes. But it wears on them all and Judd wished time could just go back to normal, that this could all be over.

But then he thinks of what “over” might mean, and he backtracks.

For a while it seemed that maybe one of them had better odds than the other. That while one of them might pull through, the other might not. No one really talked about it; what that might mean for the one. They all loved them both and to have either of them with them would be a blessing, Judd didn’t doubt that for a moment. It was what they all wanted more than anything.

But he was also in love, and he knew that those two had the same kind of love that he and Gracie did: all consuming, bright, deep love that wrapped you to another for the rest of time. To truly be one half of a whole. And - it was a thought he kept to himself, of course - he couldn’t help but think that the only thing crueler than losing them both was for one of them to lose the other. He couldn’t imagine facing that and he didn’t want to see anyone else have to go through it either. He knew people did - hell, Tommy was proof enough of that - but if he could he would do anything to spare them the pain of that.

So he prays, more than he has in years. If there were ever a time to test the strength of his healing faith, it was now.

And then, by some miracle, the news finally comes.

He and the others are standing in their living room, taking in the newly repaired space. There isn’t a trace of the destruction they had found when they had first arrived and stepped past the crime scene tape to see the horror within what had been their friends’ home. It now looks almost as it did before: a warm, safe space they had all spent many nights in. A welcoming place that felt a bit like home.

The walls had been repaired and repainted, the floors had been cleaned, the furniture had been repaired or replaced. The pictures had been rehung in new, undamaged frames and all their various knick-knacks and tchotchkes were sitting in their usual spots. The only thing missing now was TK and Carlos.

It was Nancy’s phone that rang, her voice that cut through the room as she asked Tommy what had happened. It was the sight of her collapsing into one of the chairs that drew their attention and stole all their breath. And when she looked up at them, it was her smile and tear-filled eyes that let them know they could breathe again as she said the words they had all been waiting to hear: “They’re going to be okay.”

And then time picked up again and as the others let out sounds of celebration and Paul picked up Marjan to spin her around, Judd simply smiled.

They’re okay, a voice in his head repeated, everything will be fine now.

And for once, Judd actually believed it.

----------

It’s all TK can do not to roll his eyes as his dad insists on helping him out of the back seat of Andrea’s car.

“Dad,” he said evenly, “I can walk, you know.”

“Humor me,” his dad retorted in an unimpressed tone.

TK opened his mouth to argue again but a soft laugh from beside him stole his attention instead.

“Don’t even bother,” Carlos told him, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

Somewhere between Carlos’s words and the warmth in his eyes TK found he couldn’t argue so he nodded and Owen shook his head, mystified.

“I will never understand how you do that. If it were anyone else we would still be having this argument into next week.”

Carlos simply shrugged modestly but TK spoke up as they headed up the walkway to their front door, “It’s just one of his many talents.”

Owen looked beside him to Garbiel with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as Andrea let out a light laugh from behind them. Carlos gave TK a pointed look but it was only met with a grin, and his attention was so devoted to his boyfriend that he almost didn’t notice the small crowd in their living room until they were already there. From there he was forced to do a double-take. His memories of that night were hazy, at best. It was a jumble of pain and fear and worry for Carlos as he watched him being attacked through heavy eyes. His recollection may be less than clear, but he is certain their home had been left in shambles.

Yet here they were, standing in a living room that might just be cleaner than they had left before heading to dinner all those nights ago; before they had come home to find strangers ransacking their home and TK couldn’t understand it.

He looked back to Carlos who looked just as confused as he was before glancing over at the group in the center of the room; his team, their family.

The question must have been clear on his face because Nancy scoffed.

“What?” she demanded, “Did you really think we were just going to let you come home to that mess? It’s like you don’t even know us.”

And TK didn’t have the words to respond to that. Instead, he simply glanced back at Carlos to see the love and gratitude he was feeling reflected in his warm brown eyes before he looked back at the others. He gave them a smile and when Judd moved forward to pull him into a hug, he went willingly, savoring the comfort and love that was emanating from every inch of this space filled by these people.

Someday, when the shock wore off and they were a little stronger, they would find the words to tell them how much it meant. But for now he hugged them all a little tighter and a little longer, and let his whispered thank-yous suffice. They had a long road ahead of them and being okay would take time. But he knew now with more certainty than he ever had before that as long as they had these people, they would always be okay.

#911 lone star #911lsfic #my writing #paul strickland #marjan marwani #nancy gillian #mateo chavez #judd ryder #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #tuserjamie #tuserpaige #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #jazzyjess #buckybarnesalways

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Note

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy.

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open.

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression.

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours.

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy.

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side.

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man.

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

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

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response.

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you.

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress.

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice.

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state.

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door. By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill.

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits.

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds.

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs.

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy,

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically.

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot.

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach.

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother.

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks.

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand.

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now.

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack.

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees.

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog. “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back.

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside.

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him.

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy.

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat. Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room.

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human. He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier.

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him.

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance.

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos.

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks.

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so.

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now.

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later. Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this.

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape.

Oh god, no.

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor.

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can.

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate. “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later. As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

110 notes · View notes

simpsiren · 3 years

Text

the lookalike;

Huang Renjun, astronomy major. He’s your typical college boy. Responsible, in between average to top in the smartness level, outgoing but wouldn’t bother talking to you if you never approached him. He is however playful and gets violent with his friends very often, verbally and physically. But you wouldn’t know he’s that type of person at first glance. He’s simply soft and kindhearted— if you don’t push his buttons like how his friends do 24/7.

description. What’s worse than having to go though the sufferings of a broken heart from my relationship of five years? Having to get myself tangled up with another man right after, when all I wanted was to sit alone, carry myself through the pain. But when mindless words start to slur out when you’re wanting to simply be done with life, you can’t really do anything about it, now can you? It depends on how the person you said it to interpreted it. And my words just had to be taken seriously.

genre. strangers to lovers, fluff, angst

word count. 8k~

!as they should masterlist!

Tears had been blurring my vision for who knows how long now. I didn’t even know where I was walking. I simply let my legs carry my body, letting it have a mind of its own and deciding where to take me. I wanted to escape, go anywhere but here. Where he lived, where he worked, where he went to school.

Right, on a Sunday night, here I was, walking like a lifeless corpse that just had its life being sucked out when I got dumped from my five year relationship. Of course my heart was shattered into pieces. But right now I didn’t have the energy to pick up each shard that fell. It would take forever. I’d start, just not tonight. I’ll pick myself up quick. All I needed was a night’s rest.

Surprisingly enough, I ended up at a café, or bar. Seemed to be both. Either way it was the only shop which had its lights shining on the pathway through the glass windows that gave me a full view of the inside. There weren’t many people inside, perfect place for me to cry out in one corner. Not that I’d be embarrassed if people were to look at me. I wouldn’t be coming here again anytime soon.

I silently pushed open the door and tiredly slid myself through, not even having the energy to push open the door fully. I scanned my eyes across the place, spotting a table made for two at the very corner, where it was slightly dim due to how deep in it was. I chose to seat there. I threw myself onto the seat and slumped my back into it, letting my body loose and have my head dangle feely looking down as I closed my eyes for a brief moment, thinking “Just how low do I look right now?”

A cough was suddenly heard from beside me in an attempt to get my attention. I shot my head up so fast it almost gave me whiplash. “Do you want to buy anything?” I blinked at the man before me twice. Once at his face that I couldn’t get a clear view of, and the other to his hands that held a notepad. I rubbed my forehead, softly answering, “Is there anything that’s like alcohol but isn’t?” I could tell he already looked confused at my request, his head tilting to the side a few degrees. “I’m sorry?”

I waved a lazy hand at him. “Um...” I trailed off, trying to think of something. “You know what? Get me anything that’ll knock me out in two shots.” I blankly said, giving up on even having to choose what drink I wanted. He hummed and downshifted his head. “Alright.” He walked away soon after. But I knew he had his eyes scanning me up and down for a brief moment, inspecting me before doing so. I sighed and looked out the window. I closed my eyes, the tears falling down yet again. I didn’t bother to wipe a single tear away, admitting and claiming that they’re all mine despite knowing my pride would have never allowed that.

After a few minutes, I was shocked by the knocking on the table. I fluttered my eyes open, seeing the reflection of me as well as the man from just now standing behind me with a cup in his hand. I slowly turned around, my eyes trailed from his shoes all the way to his hair. He seemed to have a small figure. But with that face I’m sure no one would even care about that. He cracked a soft smile and placed the cup down on the table. I looked down into the cup, the reflection of myself making me scrunch my nose. “I didn’t order tea.” I whispered, pointing my finger at it yet keeping my head down.

“But you look like you shouldn’t be drinking.” I tilted my head up to look at him, who had his arms folded and weight placed on one leg. “Do I look that bad?” I gulped, running a hand through my hair with a tired sigh that could go on for three days. “Rough night?” He asked, suddenly pulling the chair from the opposite side to take a seat in front of me. Pulling himself closer to the table, he raised a brow, waiting for my answer. I opened my mouth, yet words couldn’t come up as I looked around the place. “S-Should you even be sitting right now?” I asked with concern.

He shrugged and glanced at his watch for a brief moment then proceeding to lean back into the seat. “Well I can rest unless more customers come, which I highly doubt. It’s Sunday after all.” I chuckled at the last part, nodding my head agreeably. “Yeah... Sunday night.” I reminded myself mentally that I had classes tomorrow. I could only hope I’ll wake up in time. Silence pursued its course between us, with me having my gaze down to the cup of tea, for some reason I wasn’t feeling the urge that I got when coming here. I just wanted to sulk and sink deep into my despairs.

“Drink. You seem to need it.” I sighed quietly and picked up the cup, hands shaking unintentionally from my weakness as I tried to steady my hands more and bring the edge of the cup of my lips. I carefully took a sip. It wasn’t too hot, nor too cold. It was just right. It was the one thing in this cold night that had brought some warmth down my throat and to my heart. Temporary warmth. I could deal with that. “What’s your name?” I suddenly questioned. I figured if he’s going to sit here longer and he needed to then it was best to start a conversation.

“Huang Renjun. Second years in college.” The familiarity of the name rang through my ears. I narrowed my eyes on him, now trying to take a better look at the features of his face. My eyebrows furrowed for a moment as I leaned back and closed my jaw shut before it had time to drop to the floor. “Renjun?! The Huang Renjun?” I echoed, blinking my eyes rapidly as if all the tiredness had escaped my body. He chuckled softly and nodded. “Took you long to recognise me.”

I laughed in embarrassed and hummed. “Sorry about that. Guess I really am not feeling well.” I ran a hand down my face, shaking my head. “I didn’t know you work here.” I began. “I didn’t know you worked at all.” Renjun leaned forward against the table, shoulders raising as he did so. “You never knew because you never been off campus before, now have you?” Renjun tilted his head, a playful and teasing smile dancing on his lips. I frowned. “My major’s a lot harder than yours.” I feigned exasperation and rolled my eyes, making him cover his mouth politely as he laughed.

“I know.” Renjun muttered. “So?” He asked. I raised a brow in a questioning manner. “So what?” Renjun smacked his lips, raising both eyebrows at the same time and letting then fall back down. “So why did you suddenly come here this late into the night looking like a wreck?” I breathed out a short laugh, one that wasn’t suppose to send humour but more of disappointment and sadness. If I had the opportunity to talk it out, might as well take this chance to, no matter who it was I was telling it to. “I broke up with my boyfriend, Kim. Last night.” I gulped. “Well, it’s more of him dumping me.” I shrugged weakly.

Renjun’s silence made me observe him for a moment. He was expressionless, but his eyes were sending feelings of pity, one that I for one didn’t want to see, but I can’t avoid it anyway. “Why did he dump you? Did you do anything wrong?” I scoffed loudly, glancing sideways before laughing in amusement. “What are you, my therapist suddenly?” I asked, expecting him to ask for full details on the whole story. Renjun curled the side of his lips upwards ever so slightly. “I don’t mind if I get paid.” I laughed and shook my head, taking another sip of tea. The weight in my body was slowly lessening the more I talked to Renjun, my body began to feel lighter. I know a feeling like this would only be for tonight, just having to sit here and have a normal conversation about my situation without falling apart.

I proceeded to tell the story from square one, how I met Kim, to going sidetracked a little by describing how perfect of a boyfriend he was but I was simply blinded by my own love for him to realise his toxicity until the very end. Bad choice, of course. “And look at where that got me.” I closed my eyes for a short moment, my memories with him flashing by like a movie tape. It disgusted me, but it also made my head ache in many ways but one. I hated it. “It doesn’t seem that bad.”

I widened my eyes, surprised at his reply. “What do you mean?” Renjun ruffled his hair casually as he said, “You got to meet me.” Renjun played a confident smile, which only seemed to be charming. Though Renjun and I never met in a proper setting, we were mere acquaintances, one that would see each other on campus often and nothing more. But this was the start of our relationship.

We talked for hours, I had forgotten about time completely. Topics changed like flickering lights and varied in the most weirdest ways possible. I slowly grew tired, my brain working slowly with its gears getting weaker. I had my head on the table, the emptied cup pushed to the side against the clear window. I had my eyes half opened at this point, I wasn’t even able to think straight as if I actually did get drunk. “Do you want to help me?” I softly murmured. Though I think it was only for my ears, it was loud enough for Renjun to let out a, “Hm?”

“Help me...” I whispered, slightly louder this time. “Help me get this shit show over and done with.” I couldn’t hear his reply, but I was fast asleep the second after.

“I said that?” I asked, not sure if I was directing it to myself or to Renjun who was just coming with two cups of coffee, so surprised that I leaned back with a hand to my chest. Renjun sat down and nodded his head. “How could you not remember? It’s not like you were drunk last night.” I scoffed softly. “From how sad and dead I was last night, it kind of felt like I was.” I whispered, quickly taking a sip of the coffee in hopes to got myself to wake up a little.

My mood had still been feeling the same as last night the moment I woke up today. My heart was still heavy, it didn’t allow my body to loosen up. I was dragging my existence from place to place I was that lifeless and mentally drained from that one night my heart fell apart. “Well first order of business. No going to classes for a week.” I almost wanted to drop the cup then and there, but I held it firm and place it down, the noise from it making contact with the table loud and clear. “Woah I’m sorry what?!” I asked in shock.

Renjun’s expression was unbothered by my reaction. “You heard me right.” Renjun took a sip. “You’re physically and mentally drained. It doesn’t take a sidekick to see that. So just rest for awhile, and we can hang out in the meantime.” He shrugged and leaned back into his seat, shoulders relaxed and calm. “Don’t you have classes too?” Renjun smiled gently. “Haechan told me you guys start your lectures after mine which means I can still go without missing any.” I lips formed an ‘O’ as I nodded slowly. How did he know Haechan? That I questioned mentally. I did know Haechan practically has connections with the whole school somehow.

“But if you insist on going I don’t mind waiting for you at your department building.” Renjun raised his eyebrows. “But don’t take the lectures seriously for awhile, you know? Loosen up a little. Cheat, steal notes or something. Just have time to rest. The breakup really has hit you hard, huh?” Renjun eyed me up and down, not in a scrutinising manner, but it really did felt like one with a gaze like his. “Woah are you seriously telling me to do things you would never do?” I gasped loudly. Renjun bobbed his shoulders. “I mean I would do it if I wasn’t keeping my good student image. But I don’t see you having that much so.”

I rolled my eyes. “Rude.” Renjun chuckled. “I should be going for class now. See you at four?” Renjun quickly stood up, grabbing his bag from the other chair next to him. After he reassured that he had everything with him, he made eye contact with me. “See you.” Renjun downshifted his head, his lips curling up to form a smile that not going to lie, looked cute. But I quickly shook that thought out of my head before it could get any deeper.

The day went by. All I had my mind on was my ex, but my focus was slowly shifting to Renjun as time passed. Why did I even meet him in the first place? What was the purpose of someone who was of no significance in my life would suddenly be playing a big role in me wanting to get over my heartbroken phase? Questions like these circled and wrapped itself around my brain. So much so that I couldn’t properly concentrate during the lecture, which had me asking Haechan for notes just like how Renjun suggested me to.

I was making my way to the entrance when I saw Renjun standing right outside at the side. His hair captured the sunlight beautifully and it took him zero effort to have him noticed by the girls who were walking out. I had to admit he was attractive, now that I was not blinded by the fact I always thought my ex was the most perfect human on earth. I made my way to Renjun. But surprisingly, Haechan made it before I did, shocking the life out of Renjun with a rough pat on the shoulder. “Renjun!” Haechan shouted.

Renjun let out a disgusted expression and pushed Haechan away from him. I walked up to them, with Haechan surprised to see me standing before them while Renjun greeted me with a welcoming smile. “I swear I will throw a chair at you if you stop being annoying.” Renjun said as he adjusted the straps of his bag on his shoulders. Haechan leaned back and gasped loudly, giggling right after. “Like hell you would.” Renjun shot him a scary glare, one that even made me scared and intimidated by him. Haechan grew quiet instantly. “So uh why’s she here?”

Haechan took a step back when Renjun went towards me to stand by my side. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans casually. “I’m going to hang out with her today. So don’t bother calling me out tonight alright?” I turned my head to look at Renjun, who had a cheeky smile on his face. Haechan frowned and let out a whine. “You promised to join the party!” Haechan folded his arms. Renjun lifted up his shoulders. “Sorry.” Haechan huffed loudly and walked away.

“If you have a party to get you don’t need to-” “It’s fine. Really. They aren’t my thing. I usually study.” Renjun flashed a reassuring smile. He walked forward while I was still standing still, probably feeling surprised that I was even about to go out with someone I’ve never interacted before until now. “What are you waiting for?” I looked up from the random spot on his back I was staring at and blinked my eyes rapidly. With a slight shake of my head, I smiled amicably and walked up to him after adjusting my bag that was slung on one shoulder.

“Wait where are we going?” I questioned as Renjun and I took slow strides on our way out of campus. Renjun glanced up to the sky thoughtfully before looking back down and meeting my eyes. “Not sure, actually. Any ideas?” My lips formed a thin line. “Can we head to a library?” Renjun made a disgusted face, tongue sticking out slightly to add on. “Library? So you’re the kind that studies your problems away or what?” He feigned exasperation. I rolled my eyes and chuckled softly. “I mean... well that’s part of it. But I want to find a book to read too.”

Renjun shrugged casually. “If you want a book we can buy one from a bookstore.” My eyebrows go up, eyes narrowed at him. “Buy? Does it look like I have money?” I said, moving my hand up and down my outfit as if that even gave him an idea of how broke I was. “I could pay. If you promise to read the book, that is.” I scoffed and waved his words away. “Ah please. I can finish a book within a week if I truly like it. And trust me, I know when a book catches my attention.” I folded my arms confidently and I fought back.

“Bookstore it is then.” Renjun announced with a nod of his head. Though it was silent on our way there, I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t the kind of silence that breathed down our throats and would force us to let out a word at all. Comfortable silence, was what I’d describe our trip. We finally arrived, the name of the bookstore sitting above the door with a sign that said the shop was opened on the clear glass door. I took a peek inside for a moment. Though I’ve never been in quite some time, it didn’t seem to change much. Renjun was quick to open the door and almost letting the door shut. He was able to notice it and open back the door for me to enter. I smiled and looked to the floor as I walked in.

My gaze lifted itself from the floor and to my surroundings, which is basically shelves and shelves of books with two display rectangular tables in the center. I looked above the bookshelves, seeing the labels of the different genres. I instantly took quick steps to the fantasy books. “So you read fantasy?” Renjun said in an unusually low voice, adding on was his close presence behind me which could’ve made my breath hitched in my throat if I didn’t hold myself up. “I used to like romance. But the shit in romance novels never happen.” I picked a book off the shelve that seemed to have an interesting title. I flipped to the back and ran my index finger down the synopsis, quickly scanning through.

“It’s all... fake.” I whispered in the end, my voice was barely audible at the mention of ‘fake’. Renjun hummed and stood beside me instead of behind. With clasped hands behind his back, he scanned hus eyes over the bookshelf, head turning along while he did so. “Fantasy is fake too. They’re called fiction for a reason.” Renjun commented, which made me frown slightly when I realised what he meant. “I was just referring to the romance ones. Just too good to be true. And...” I lips formed a thin line as I exhaled sharply. “You can easily get sucked into holding the highest of standards without realising how harsh the real world is.” I forced a smile, looking at Renjun as I shoved the book I skimmed through back into its place, keeping my eyes on him.

I walked down to look through more books, Renjun would either be looking at me, peering with his head beside mine to read whatever I had in my hands at the moment, or skim through some books for himself. With quick glances I could tell he was only doing that out of boredom. “Okay, I have to choose one of these.” I muttered to myself, noticing how I had a large stack of books piled in my arms. I quickly eliminated most till I was down to two. Placing them both on the bookshelf, I nudged Renjun on the arm, turning his attention from the outside to me with a questioning hum. “Which one should I get?”

Renjun didn’t give a verbal reply, immediately picking one up to quickly read through and doing the same for the other. “Can I get one of the books? It seems interesting.” Renjun mumbled at he grabbed one of the books. I shrugged. “I don’t mind. But we’re switching books once we’re done with them. Got it?” Renjun furrowed his eyebrows. “Excuse me I’m the one paying for these.” I stick my tongue out like an annoying kid. “Yeah, whatever.” I turned sharply and headed straight for the counter. Renjun proceeded to pay and we checked out.

I never had an outing like this in a long time. My ex would simply drag me out to do other things that were out of my comfort zone, that were thinga I didn’t want to do. But being here, especially with Renjun, had made me feel that sense of belonging, one that I so dearly forgotten and missed. All I could think about now while laying in bed was Renjun, but I smacked my lips, forcing to shove the thoughts of him in the back of my mind and open the book to the first page.

“I’ve been here before. A lot of times, actually.” I said, with a finger to my lips. Renjun wanted to surprise me by taking me to a place to hang out, little did I realise it was the place my ex and I always went to. I turned to look at Renjun, who now had a frown on his face. One that so closely resembled Kim. It made my stomach form tight knots. “Is this where you’ve been with your ex?” As if Renjun read my mind, I slowly nodded. Rejun clicked his tongue and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. If this place brings you bad memories then-” I brought my hand up to hold his forearm, flashing him a gentle smile. “It’s fine.” I whispered, heading in.

We bought the picnic basket and headed out to the large field on grass, with flowers surrounding the perimeter. We chose a random spot, making sure we had a good view... of whatever we could see in the sky and sat up. We began to unpack and once we had all the food laid in front of us, we sat down next to the each other, legs both crossed with our knees touching. “So you wanted to take me out on a picnic?” I questioned in surprise, reaching out for a slice of watermelon. Renjun breathed out a short laugh and nodded.

It did make me think about how Kim and I used to come here a lot. It was our place. Though it pained my heart to be here, the burden somehow lifted itself with Renjun’s presence. His aura and being got me distracted. Indeed, whatever Renjun had always been doing, has helped me move on from Kim. We chat and ate laughing and coming up with random things to argue about for the fun of it. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know cats are the most adorable house pets one could ever have!” I shouted with force. “No! Dogs!” Renjun protested and the both of us laughed.

At a time like this, I realised just how similar Renjun was to Kim. The way he smiled, laughed. When I got home, the small decor we got from the picnic basket in my hands, I recalled the day I had with Renjun. How we got to see the sunset, the sky turning pink with streaks of orange, slowly turning itself into ink black to allow the night to settle in. My thoughts were at first innocent, but it was slowly growing dark. “Why do I see Kim in your eyes, Renjun?” I whispered to myself, thumb hovering over the decor. I couldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t even have a single thought of this.

Another time like this came about when Renjun took me out of a hangout to the arcade. He offered to pay, like he always did. And we played for hours. I saw the way he played with so much fire and passion, even if it was over a simple game of DDR or a shooting game. He’d do anything to beat me. He was competitive, just like Kim. “You didn’t have to go hard on me!” I whined, placing the gun down with a hard slam and a huff of annoyance. Renjun turned me around by placing both hands firmly on my shoulders. He took a large step in front, closing the gal between us till our chests touched, the strong sense of pulling him closer was there as he dipped his head down to meet my gaze.

“You mad, babe?” Renjun whispered, sending an electric shock throughout my body from the contact of his hands. That was the first time he called me babe. And that made a feeling in my body that I knew all too well. The butterflies fluttering in my stomach, how my lungs clenched at the close proximity of his face to him, yet I wouldn’t bother grasping for air, I wanted to stay like this— close. I looked up at him and narrowed my eyes. “Excuse you can I not be? You beat me at almost every game!” I rolled my eyes and jerked myself off his grip. I wanted to turn around but he was quick to have a hold of my wrist to pull me back into his embrace.

With his hand slowly gliding around my waist, he placed his hand there gently, somewhat leaving a gap between his hand and my skin but was still able to pull me close with the tug of my wrist. Renjun pouted deeply and shook his head. “Not true! I let you win the basketball game.” Renjun curved one side of his lips up in a defeating smirk. I stuck my tongue out in annoyance. “No you just sucked at playing basketball.” I teased, laughing loudly which made Renjun laugh as well, smacking my arm lightly. “Shut up.”

I looked into his eyes. In a busy place like an arcade, it’s as if everything else had been wiped out, leaving Renjun and I with pure silence in my head when we locked eyes. I was falling, trapped in his gaze. My feelings for Renjun only grew more and more when he began to express himself as more than just a friend. He was trying to get me. I knew he began to like me that day. When Renjun and I walked home, he had his eyes on the ground. We were silently walking, which felt unusual to me. He never seemed this quiet.

With a quiet sigh I looked to the side, looking at the street lamps that illuminated the pathway with an orange hue, with a cold breeze whispering through the trees. Suddenly, I felt a touch of electricity. I slowly looked down to my hand, seeing Renjun sliding his hand to meet my hand and threading his fingers between mine. The touch sent a shock through my veins. It felt like I was suddenly lit and energy coursing in me. “Is this why you were quiet this whole time?” I questioned Renjun, a small smirk of tease playing on my lips as I lifted our hands up in front of him.

Renjun widened his eyes for a split second and quickly shook his head. He scoffed in denial. “What? No.” He retorted back. “But it was smooth, wasn’t it?” Renjun asked with a light giggle. I breathed out a laugh and sighed loudly in satisfaction, tilting my head up to meet the dark sky of the night. “Tonight’s been fun.” I whispered softly. But I stopped in my tracks, making him turn his body to face mine. “But we’re going to study once we get on campus.”

Renjun gaped his mouth open in shock, eventually turning his shocked expression into a pitiful one while letting out a long whine. “Why?! I don’t wanna study.” I chuckled and brought my free hand up to play with his soft hair. “You don’t need to. Just accompany me while I study. I have a lot to catch up on.” I smiled softly, which he responded with a sweet smile back.

It didn’t need a confession. We didn’t need to say it out loud. We felt our longing for each other and it naturally began, more physical touching, calling each other babe. It was just the beginning of our relationship, but what confused me was how easy I was able to fall for Renjun, after trying for so long to get over Kim. Just what was it in me that had me make that quick switch?

As time went on and I got to spend more time with Renjun, my feelings for him spurred quickly. But I knew it was the wrong kind. It’s the one that held my feelings for Kim still. I just saw Renjun as him and wanted to get close to him for the sake of feeling the love again. “Fuck. I’m using him.” The realisation came quick, though it took me awhile to know. I might have noticed from the very start, but I chose to ignore it, thinking it wasn’t true. With this keeping me up all night and putting me in a bad place with my overthinking, I wanted to distance myself from Renjun for awhile, which in the end got me to continue with this lie.

“You good?” Renjun questioned. We were hanging out by the field of flowers, having a silent book readin session as I laid my shoulder on his. He probably noticed me staring off into the distance and haven’t read a single line on the same page for at least ten minutes. I shook my head slowly and forced a smiled, turning my head to look up at him. Trying to seem normal, I answered, “Yeah. Just stressing over an assignment.” I tilted my eyes back down to my book. I trailed off in my thoughts too much that I even forgotten when I was at in the novel.

I did what I only could’ve thought of, which only led to his stubbornness and determination track down why I’ve been avoiding him for an entire week.

“Open the door. I know you’re in there.” I woke up to Renjun’s voice and his violent knocking that shook me awake. I winced at the sunlight that went in through the window uninvited and clearly unwanted. It was too much light for someone who’s going through a confusingly hard time. I gulped and rose out of bed, slowly walking to the door when the realisation hit me. I had to tell him about it. I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

I slammed my palm hard on my forehead. Why was I even dumb enough to do this in the first place? I knew all too well he’d come for me eventually. What was the point of me running away to avoid my feelings? I breathed out slowly, wanting to steady my heart which had been pounding so hard in desperation to get out of my ribcage. After closing my eyes for a moment, I grabbed the door handle that was creepily cold to the touch and opened the door.

I looked at Renjun standing in front of me. He looked tired, as if he stayed up all night. He didn’t bother to look presentable with his messy hair, puffy face, eye bags as dark as the moon. He looked restless. This wasn’t him at all. He seemed out of place. He said nothing, simply walking into my room after shoving me aside lightly with his hand. I followed behind him, too scared of how he might react while he interrogate me.

Renjun went to sit at the edge of my bed. I took the chair of my study table and pulled it to seat in front of me. With my actions so uptight and out of place, I knew that he knew that something was wrong. Clearly wrong. I watched as Renjun closed his eyes, somewhat in a way to compose himself of whatever feelings he was having at the moment. But when he met my eyes, it was intimidatingly dark. He was staring right into my soul, possibly reading whatever’s in my heart.

He leaned forward and interlocked his fingers together in front of him. “An explanation would be nice.” He said in a monotonous voice. I wasn’t liking this one bit. Renjun was scary. Like there was a fire inside him that no one could put out yet he’s able to keep his tone raw and bare. “I...” I began to trailed off, trying to quickly form a sentence. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I tried to force myself to speak.

“I’m sorry.” I let out, looking down. With my head tilted down, my eyes looked to his again. And I could tell they were now filled with anger, and disappointment. “I know you are. But why?” Renjun asked again. I swallowed all my feelings down my throat in hopes that I won’t spill them out and cry while trying to explain. “I used you, okay? When I first met you, and we began to hang out, you just so vaguely resembled Kim and I...” The tears began to well up in my eyes. My vision got blurry and I lost sight of Renjun.

“I just thought I could get over him if I forced myself to fall for you.” I blinked my eyes, the tears giving in and streaming down my dried cheeks, wetting them with guilt and resentment towards myself. Renjun was sitting still in front of me. There was no expression change in his face, and that scared me even more. But what was said next, had my heart shattering even more than it did last time. “So I see there was no point in liking you in the first place.” Renjun stood up. But after he took one step, I quickly rose from the chair and grabbed his wrist, holding onto it tightly as if trying my best to hold onto his heart that could now slip away from my grasp at any second.

“What?” Renjun asked, a hint of annoyance shining through his tone. That simple word rolled hard off his tongue, and I knew he meant for it to slice through my sliver of hope. I feel the sting of the word, like a pinprick, like the word itself is trying to pop me the way it pops my thought bubble “My feelings are real, Renjun. None of it was fake.” I pleaded, holding myself back from shedding more tears. “You’re just contradicting yourself.” Renjun jerked my grip off him roughly, hard enough for me to stumble a step back in shock. My mouth was still agape, my brain trying its best to work fast on how I could make this even the slightest bit better. It’s as if the

But as soon as I saw Renjun taking his steps to my door, I knew there was nothing left for me to do. The door slammed shut, and he was completely out of my view. When he went away, for a long moment, I went empty too, like all of me just flooded out and disappeared. Then it hit me. Renjun wasn’t going to come back. He’s never going to talk to me again. I dropped to the floor as if all the life has been sucked out of me, the earth wanting to drain me of my ever happiness as punishment. It’s like the world went blank and still, and so do I. My chest is clenching tighter and tighter, suffocating my lungs and stopping me from breathing in air.

“Fuck you’re stupid.” I croaked out, my eyes shut so tight with my head hanging loose to face the ground in embarrassment. My heart pounded so hard I thought my bones might shatter. I could hear it in my eardrums as all the feelings that were pinching me inside slowly grew numb. My eyes were puffy and I was loosing myself in that moment. I risked everything I had with Renjun for the sake of my pride. And I’ll never know if I could ever overcome this swelling pain.

Weeks went by. I used to count how many days I went without Renjun, but I stopped. What was the point to that anyways? I guess it served me as a coping system to reassure myself that I could be well withhout Renjun. But I knew deep down I wasn’t. Not at all. The hours, minutes, seconds of ever day went by as if forever. And it hurt every time. I never got Renjun out of my mind, no matter what I tried to do. Study, go out for a drink, read. Nothing. Because it all related back to Renjun. He was so entangled into my life within that short time span that it felt almost impossible to do anything.

I would occasionally see Renjun walk on campus with his group of friends. He had the smile that he mentioned he’d only show to me, for me. I could hear his laughter down the hallway and my heart would break just a little more. It was hard. He was my only friend. And yet he’s better off without me, knowing he had others to go to. I was alone, and I had myself to blame for that.

One day, I couldn’t bare it any longer. I wanted to talk to him. In any way. I just needed a second of his time, of his touch. This afternoon after my lecture, I saw him walking alone on campus. He had his head held high and confident, occasionally greeting people he knew. The smile never left his face, and his hair captured all the sunlight as if it was all shining on solely him. I wanted to move, but something in me had my feet rooted to the ground. Perhaps it was me knowing that he was indeed better off without me, and I had to live with this weight in my heart.

“You’ve been staring at him for so long.” I startled awake from my trailed off thoughts when a voice sat itself low beside my head. I turned around, meeting Haechan’s face close to him. I leaned back from the sudden shock. “I know something’s wrong.” Haechan He shrugged in a blasé, god-could-care sort of way, knowing it would get me alert. “He told you, I suppose?” I whispered, looking down to my feet that missed their chance at carrying me to Renjun. Haechan scoffed, almost in a sarcastic manner. “He told me nothing. I’m just observant.” He corrected me with a professional sort of tone.

My eyebrows go up in question, but I soon gave a lifeless expression after. “It’s none of your business.” I was about to walk away when he prevented me from even taking one step with his grip on my wrist. I turned around to meet his eyes. For a moment it flashed pity. “Care for coffee?”

I gulped, my eyes never leaving the coffee that was in front of me, reflecting my terrible face in it that made me grimace at myself silently. I frowned, looking up to Haechan who was staring at me as if watching my every move with his lip cup resting on his lips. “What am I here for?” I finally asked after the long silence passed by. Haechan sighed for three days. “Don’t think Renjun has been well off without you.” He said straight up, no filter, no nothing. I stared at him, rendered clueless. I tried to sink in his words but I quickly got cut off when he continued with, “Trust me. I know Renjun my whole life. He’s putting on a show for you. Though you and I don’t know what he does behind closed doors. I know the way you currently view him is not him at all.”

Haechan’s words got me wanting to speak, but not a single word could leave my mouth. So many things came into my mind. So many questions I wanted to ask. But I guess the overload made my brain lag and unable to process anything but Haechan’s words. “How is he?” I managed to spoke, though it cracked for a moment and it was barely audible. “He acts fine around us. As if we don’t know him enough to know that he’s been ditching us to hang out with you.” Haechan chuckled lowly and shook his head. “If anything, he needs you to approach him. I mean I know he’d be doing it first if it wasn’t for his god annoying pride.”

Haechan leaned closer, with a mysterious gaze that pulled me in response, as if he wanted to tell a secret. “Whatever you two have going on, fix it. I don’t like seeing my friend put on a show for a girl. Make him happy again. And do whatever it takes.” Haechan rose from his seat, the screeching of the chair making contact with the floor as he pushed it back to allow himself to slip away from the table. He casually walked out, his footsteps sharp and precise and soon disappear. Bullets of Haechan’s harsh words buried themselves in my chest. But soon a coil of hope unraveled in my stomach.

I sat there, still in awe. How could I not believe Haechan’s words? He’s Renjun’s best friend. If Renjun really was going through a hard time, all the more I had to do something about it. I sighed, slowly changing my gaze from the random spot on the chair in front of me to my phone that sat quietly on the table. With a shut of my eyes, I reached for it, turning it on and going to Renjun’s contact. I never changed it. It was still ‘Annoying prick<3’ I breathed out a short laugh. My thumb shakily went to the call buttoned and hovered over it for awhile. I had no idea what I was going to do if he picked up. But I went for it anyway.

The ringing was beginning to haunt me by the fifth time. And just when I wanted to end the call, it picked up and I could hear Renjun’s shallow breathing through the speaker. “Hey.” He simply said. Hope provided a burst of warmth inside of me. “Are you free tonight...?” I questioned slowly with much uncertainty. A long pause went by. It was killing me. “Yeah.” Renjun’s short answers sounded normal. But something about it sent a cold chill down my spine. “Meet me at the park at 10. You know where.” I quickly ended the call and pressed the phone close to my chest. I was so nervous that I didn’t even get his confirmation that he’ll be there. Looks like I’ll be taking my chances like a real idiot.

That night, the cold seemed to be pinching my bare face. I sat there on the bench. At first my hopes were high and I was waiting with my back straight and shoulders back to give a good impression. But as hours went by as the temperature seemed to drop tremendously and I could feel my lips and face freezing up, I slowly slouched and huddled myself in a tight hug, claiming desperately for warmth. The only thing that was currently giving me hope was the bright moon shining its light on everything with the stars to accompany it with its little to no presence, yet still as prominent as the moon to me.

I wasn’t prepared for such a night at all, simply coming here in a hoodie and sweatpants. I bit my lower lip as my overthinking began to trail itself down a dark path. I swallowed down my hurt feelings, closing my eyes and simply wanting to take a break from all I had endured. I needed the rest. Suddenly, I felt something heavy draped over my shoulders, wrapping around my around. The action got me to hold my body still. But I managed to flutter my eyelids open and turn to look the one responsible.

“Renjun.” I softly called out. I cracked a weak smile. “You actually came.” “You dumb fuck.” Renjun’s words got my expressionless and tired face to make mold itself into a shocked one. He roughly placed his hands firmly on my shoulders and turned my upper body to face him. My eyes met his, and he was examining every inch of my face in worry. He cupped my cheeks in his hands, his palm welcoming itself with warmth. His gentle touching imbued with care was instantly recognisable. “How long have you been waiting out here?” Renjun’s voice was highly concerned.

“Not long.” I slowly replied. Renjun shook his head intensely and pulled me into his embrace. It was tight, yet not suffocating. It was one that’s all too familiar. “You idiot. Don’t you know how to determine when it’s finally time to go back?” Renjun whispered, his worrisome still obvious in his tone. I rest my head against his chest, his heart beating rapidly against my ear that was pressed right at where his heart was. Did he come running here?

“How can I? I know no bounds when it came to you.” I whispered, a teardrop instantly falling out of my already overflowing eyes. I pressed myself into him more, my hands eventually lifting themselves up on instinct to wrap around Renjun’s chest. Renjun placed his chin on top of my head, slowly tilting it down to plant a soft and feather-like kiss on the crown of my head. “I hate you. I still do. But I’m not worth enough to have you waiting out here in the damn cold.”

The ground between us feels a little more solid but the rest of the world shakes like it’s built on a high wire miles above the earth, crashing down and leaving only Renjun and I still standing, still here in this moment. My heart began to pick up its pace, with a heartbeat that threatened to tear through my ribcage from Renjun’s ever so careful touch. Renjun sighed and pulled away, my body still close to his. He gaze met mine and he never failed to have it locked on me. That action alone was enough to make me break out in goose bumps, to make my stomach crisscross into deep knots.

“Say that you love me.” Renjun was studying my eyes, as if looking into my soul for any more lies. But I quickly reverted it. “I love you.” I was sincere, from the bottom of my heart. And I tried my heart to have my eyes and voice tell it for him. Renjun hugged me close again and kissed my forehead, letting his lips stay there as it brushed lightly above my skin.

“I may be Kim’s lookalike. But I’m much more different when I’m with you.” I hummed in reply, my body going limp under his touch as I let his warmth surround me with his love that I truly missed.

124 notes · View notes

dcbutinamrev · 3 years

Note

Lams, “i’d take our relationship back in a heartbeat," but John is dead and Alexander is talking to him. They can both be talking or just him, whatever, artistic freedom. :)

Sorry this is so late!!! I've been focusing my attention on Yrs Forever!! (As it is almost done) But your wish is my command! Modern au but with their historical apperances! I was gonna post this ficlet request on August 27 (cause...you know...) but like I also don't have the paitence to wait that long. So yeah. That's a thing-

~~~

Alexander Hamilton closes his eyes as soon as he steps into his apartment, hsi back pressed against the door and his jaw unusually tight. He breathes in slowly, holding his breath for a few seconds before slowly reopening his eyess. He hopes his boyfriend, his dear Laurens, would be before him but instead only to reveal before him an empty staircase. He groans miserbaly, and swallows the lump down his throat, grimacing as he does so--as though it had hurt him to do so.

It's been a month since he died. A whole entire month since his Jack left him, since he'd broken the promise he made to him. The promise he'd never leave him.

Hamilton shakes his head and climbs up the steps to his bedroom. He stares at the wooden door, his beautiful indigo-violet eyes ticking down towards the doorhandle. He smiles at the memory of when they had their first kiss, from at a party at Laurens's old friend's Tench Tilghman's place, Laurens counting Hamilton's freckles with a black sharpie, thinking he found Orion before leaning in to capture his lips. He remembers the first time they had sex, remembers clearly of Laurens slamming his back onto this very door, pinning him place as he kisses Hamilton roughly, quickly, heatedly, moving his lips down the side of Hamilton's neck, under his jaw.

Hamilton sighs long and slow before shaking his head at the memory, trying to learn to move on. But for some reason, he can't. He can't seem to let his John go.

Hamilton let's out another shaky breath before twisting the doorknob and gently pushing the door open. He hasn't stepped foot into this room for over a month, not after since Laurens's death. Always too frightened. But today, on August 27, the very same day in which he--Hamilton clears his throat, blinking his misty eyes. Well, anyways.

But today, he's feeling rather bold in doing so. Any other time, he'd be working down in the dining room table with his older foster brother, Lafayette, and parents around him--along with his friends, Richard Kidder Meade, Tench Tilghman, James McHenry, Robert Hanson Harrison, and David Humphreys of course. Or he'd be in one of the offices up here on the second floor, working in peace. Or hiding up in the attic, rummaging through old boxes of him and Laurens, watching old video tapes Laurens had made for each special moment. Hamilton stays where he stands currently in front of the entranceway, his eyes unfazed and misty. It feels like forever since he's been in this room.

Hamilton let's his bookbag slump onto the floor beside his door, taking a moment to let his new surroundings sink in. He sees his bed, the very same bed where he'd had Laurens beside him, beautiful sky eyes half-opened, honey blonde hair fallen loose and framing his angular face like a golden halo. Laurens's bare body exposed before him under the sheets. Hamilton encourages himself to take a leap forward and closes the door behind him.

It's quiet in his room. Dark and cold. He wraps his arms around his small, wasp-waisted frame as he shivers, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand suddenly up. He feels like he's missing something.

And he is.

Hamilton swallows hard, his jaw clenched once more, as he moves around the room, letting his hand trace over the soft silk of his bedsheets before him, stopping where Laurens's foot would be. He stares at the sheets, linen white before ticking his eyes up to where the moutain of pillows lays before him and up to the wooden headboard. He can faintly see the ghostly outline of Laurens and himself sleeping together in this very bed. He presses his lips together and forces himself to look away, letting out a shuddering breath before finally having the courage to head toward his desk.

His hands rest on the back of the chair as he stares down. He ticks his eyes up to find a framed photograph of him and Laurens sharing a kiss, both of them smiling against the other's lips. Despite the ache he feels, the twisting of his stomach, he can feel the corners of his lips being quirked up.

He reaches for a framed photograph of his beautiful Laurens on the other side, just of him--a simple portrait, Hamilton's dashing soilder. He sighs as turns, the photorgaph still clutched in his hands, before he flops himself down on the edge of the bed, a few dark red curls fall loose and bounce on his forehead.

"Oh, Jack..." Hamilton whispers, his voice raw, choking. He lets his thumb trace over the side of Laurens's face, near his ear, over his hairline. "You know...I'd take our relationship back in a heartbeat."

A pause. Followed by endless silence. He sighs again before flopping down onto the bed, tilting his head to one shoulder as he eyes the portrait before him.

"I um...I um....How've you been? John?" he says to himself. He pauses, waits for a moment, before letting out a dry laugh, followed by a sniff. "College has been okay...rough obviously but okay. Gil had already gone back to France for his own college education and me stuck here in Manhattan and you? Who knows where you could be. But...I do hope...wherever you are...Jack...I...I do hope you now have peace."

Hamilton presses his lips together tightly once more, in hopes it would hold back the small whimper in which escapes him. He clenches his teeth as he narrows his eyes at Laurens before him, the small grin on his face, the twinkle in his sky-blue eyes--blue, a rich, vibrant blue, clear as the sky on a summer's day. He shakes his head, anger replacing the grief.

"You promised me..." he whispers sharply, his voice hissing like a snake, his chest heaving. "You...you....you promised me you wouldn't leave me...you said so yourself those very words." He swallows hard as he blinks his eyes fast, a tight scowl on his face. "You lying bastard!"

With a frustrated grunt, he tosses the framed photograph across the room, wincing as it smashes against the wall, watching it fall to the floor with a clatter, making himself jump back with surprise. Surprisingly, the glass doesn't shatter. Hamilton sniffs and wraps his arms around himself again, feeling himself shrink--feeling small, vulnerable, and weak. And he hates feeling weak and vulnerable.

"How could you?" he whimpers at the framed photograph now on the floor instead of his hands. "How could you, John? You know how I am when I get too attached to people. You knew what I would do, what I would feel if I had lost another person in my life. " He feels something wet trickle down his freckled cheeks. He ignores it. "You know of my past, a past which I would rather keep tucked away in a small closet inside the back of my head."

Silence.

"Please, John..." he whispers, licking his dry, chapped lips--dry from the lack of kisses. "Please...come back to me...I can't...not you too..."

Another pause.

"I know, I know I haven't fully accepted the fact that you're...you're gone...but..." Hamilton shakes his head as he collapses onto his knees, leaning forward and with one arm reaches out for the frame. "They told me you were sick. You were sick and you went out there anyways. You knew...didn't you?"

Nothing.

"What about the letter? The letter I sent you? I sent it around the fifteenth. Did you get it? Did you even read it? Did it get miscarried?"

Hamilton freezes in place, his face paling and his eye widen with realization. He stands shakily, his hands trembling as his mind whirls and his stomach spins, making him double over slightly and clutch his stomach with one arm as he leans against the edge of the bed.

"The 15th..." he whispers shakily, glancing back down at Laurens's portrait in his trembly hands. "The 15th...you...it takes about a couple days to a week for corrospondences to be delievered...you...you may not have even recieved it on the 27th..."

Hamilton feels himself queasy, his vision blurring as his head spins, a loud ringing in his ears.

"Oh God!" he wails, bringing a shaky hand up to his parted lips to hide the chocked sob. "John...Oh, John...please..."

He falls to his knees again, gently placing the portrait onto the bed. He blinks his eyes fast, his whole body trembling as he clasps his hands together and presses his forehead agaisnt his knuckles.

"John...please...if you can hear me...just please...show me..." He sucks in a shaky breath. "Show me the way...please...I...I miss you, my love...I...I can't even..." He squeezes his eyes tighter as more tears manage to escape. "I can't even...I love you...I love you...I just...I just want to kiss you..." He glances up from his knuckles and up at the ceiling. "I want to see you...I...I want to hear my name from your lips...see your smile...hear your laugh...I want...I want to kiss you, Jack. I mean as I say. I'd take our relationship back in a heartbeat. I...I...want to kiss you. Just one last time..."

Hamilton waits. He waits for a few minutes, for anything. But all he hears is silence.

He breaks, the glass inside him shatters. He screams, wails with desperation and anger before he folds his arms over each other and rests his forehead on top of them, still on his knees, sobbing as quietly as he can, sniffling occasionally, mumbling Laurens's name under his breath like a chant.

After a few minutes, he wails again, tears streaming freely like a waterfall down his red, puffy freckled cheeks and his bedroom door slams open at the sound of his pleading cry. He feels arms wrap around him, one arcross his chest and one around his back, the person's hand up to his dark russet curls. The person, who Hamilron happens to discover is Lafayette himself, pulls him close until his forehead is now pressed against his chest.

"Please..." Hamilton whimpers, clutching onto Lafayette's shirt.

Lafayette sighs heavily and presses a soft kiss to his temple before resting his cheek on top of his head, shushing him occasionally.

"I'm sorry..." Hamiton whispers. "I'm so sorry....I...What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, mon petit frere," Lafayette assures him with a warm smile as he lifs Hamilton's chin up, brushing back a few loose curls.

Hamilton wipes his red, puffy cheeks frustratingly, embarrassed of himself. "There must have...I must have done something wrong, Gil...he deployed...he promised me he'd come home to me...that he wouldn't leave me..."

"Alex..." Lafayette whispers, his own heart cracking at the sight of Hamilton before him, who he loves more than anything.

"They said he was sick," Hamilton chokes, slowly glancing up at Lafayette. "Malaria, they said...Malaria..."

"Alexander..."

"Yet he went to battle anyways..." He chokes. "He knew...he knew..."

"Shh..." Lafayette whispers, helping Hamilton stand once more and guiding him towards the bed. "Sleep Alex. You need let yourself rest."

Hamilton shakes his head. "I can't sleep. It's a waste of time..." He shivers at the word. "There's other things...essays to be complete....exams..."

"Shh," Lafayette insists, forcing him to lie down on the bed. "You must rest, mon ami. Your body is telling you it does. You've overworked yourself again, didn't you?"

Hamilton lets himself collapse onto the pillow with a thump, covering his eyes with his hands.

"Get some rest, mon ami," Lafayette whispers, tucking a lose strand of red hair behind his ear as soon as he lowers his hand.

Hamilton nods and watches Lafayette walk towards his bedroom door. He's about to swing it open, when Hamilton stops him.

"Gil?" Hamilton calls, causing Lafayette to stop in his tracks.

He turns to Hamilton over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

Hamilton smiles in what Lafayette must think have been forever. "Thank you."

Lafayette chuckles, feeling the corners of his lips quirk up. "Of course, Alex. That's what brothers are for."

After the door clicks shut behind Lafayette, Hamilton lets his eyes shut and for the first time in many days-

He smiles in his sleep.

#lams #historical lams #ficlet #requested #oneshot #amrev #read more #IT'S FINALLY FINISHED #SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!!!#WOO LOOK AT ME FINISHING A FICLET BEFORE 11:30 AT NIGHT!!!#sorry yall #angst #alexander hamilton #john laurens #marquis de lafayette #long post #i think i'm missing an aide-#ava!

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theamberwriter · 4 years

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Ficmas Day 1: One More Sleep [Tenya Iida]

Pairing: ProHero!Tenya Iida x Fem!Reader

Song: One More Sleep by Leona Lewis

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I tried to get this done a few days ago, but I was just so tired 😭 Anyway, I hope that you guys like it!

Tenya rubbed his eyes groggily, staring at the ceiling. He rolled over to look at the clock on the nightstand. 3:43 AM. How frustrated he was by this. He should've been asleep hours ago. He sat up, deciding it was no good. Sleep wouldn't come, not until you were here by his side.

He checked his phone for the date. December 21th. Four. More. Days. Five more grueling, restless nights. Tenya figured he should've been used to this. Spending time apart. Your relationship had been that way since the beginning. You traveled for work while he stayed put. Doing the hero gig he'd always dreamed of.

But now - so close to Christmas - it was impossible to think of anything else but you. Here. In the bed you'd spend nearly a year deciding on because he insisted you had to look at all the options first. Your side was barely worn. It made his heart ache in ways he was too stubborn to admit.

Tenya wondered if it's be too cruel to ask you to stop. To stop traveling. To stay put, just for a little while. No more calling at wild hours. No more flickering signals or long distance fees. Just you and him. Together in the home that you'd bought. The place you made love and fought and kissed endlessly to make up for lost time.

But when was enough, enough?

He swung his feet out of bed, put on his glasses, and slid on his slippers. A blue bathrobe hung from the best post. It was one you'd bought him last year from somewhere over seas. You had said it reminded you of his eyes. Apparently you'd worn it considerably before gifting it. It was drenched in your scent by the time it reached his hands. The collar smelled like your shampoo, the rest of smelling of your favourite spray. You'd bashfully admitted you wore it because you missed him. And this one little thing made you feel closer.

Your smell had been washed from it by now. But he silently wished it was still there as he put it on. He only flicked on a few lights as he made his way to the kitchen. A warm cup of tea on a cold, snowy night sounded wonderful. Tenya looked out at the piling snow as he waited for the water to boil.

He worried your flight would get delayed. Or worse – it'd be put off until after the storm passed. Sure, he'd video chatted you early that evening. But he felt like he'd die if he had to wait even a single day more than he already had to. He ran a hand through his hair. What a funny thing love was.

Tenya had never expected you to come into his life. He never really expected to share love with anyone. It was just another thing his brother talked sweetly of. Telling him, “Tenya, you'll know when she's the one.” Tenya breathed his brother's every word like gospel.

Except for that one.

What had Tensei meant by you'll know – it wasn't very informative. It didn't help too much. It only kept him guessing as he passed attractive women. Until Tenya found you. It wasn't love at first sight. Not entirely. But the first words he thought when he saw your face? I just found my wife.

It had been such a nauseating, powerful experience. One little glance as you said 'hello' from your new spot at a desk in his agency. Tenya had rushed away, and left out the back so he wouldn't have to pass you again.

It was the single most powerful moment in his life.

Many things had changed over the years. You were one of those earth shattering experiences for him. Breaking open the egg that was the world. Showing him more than he would've thought possible. Four years ago, that thought that he'd fall in love with a stranger and get married to them just two years after would've seemed ridiculous. But here you two were.

You worked as a travel writer. Going to exotic places. Trying new things. Meeting new people. While Tenya was living his dream. Fulfilling his brother's legacy as Ingenium. He never thought being alone could feel so hollow and bitter and cold. He'd never really felt lonely when he was alone, until you two made a home together. Tenya worried that home was too boring for you. Surely it had to be after seeing so much of the world. It gnawed at him. No matter how much reassurance you gave him that coming back home to him was always the best part of the trip.

Tenya contemplated his tea as he poured in the water. Watching as a deep red color soaked out from the leaves. Only four more days, he kept reminding himself. Five more nights, and she'll be with you. But the mantra didn't help at all.

Tenya went to his reading chair by the window. Yours was next to his, a table separating them. Your side was stacked with books. Even your chair had a few on it. Bookmarks spouted from a few. Tenya was sure you'd never finish them. But watching you try was endearing nonetheless. Your wedding picture sat on the table, along with a vase of your favourite flowers. He went every day to get one while you were away.

He counted twenty three. Twenty three flowers. Twenty three days apart. But only four more until you were back in his arms. Until he could kiss you and hold you. Feel your warm skin against his own. They'd made you stay longer, so you'd have writing material through the first of the year. Didn't they know you had a husband and a dog to get back home to?

That picture encapsulated the best day of his life. A face splitting grin on his own. You wore a goofy smile because he'd made you laugh. Tenya cried when he saw you come down the aisle. Though he desperately tried to hide them. You teased him later about that. He simply covered you with kisses.

A small lump formed in Tenya's throat as he watched your dog slump sadly down onto the floor in front of your chair. He rolled his eyes up at Tenya and whined, his tail wagging only once. Things just weren't the same with you away. Tenya blew on his tea with a sigh.

“I know boy, I miss her, too,” he said softly. Then took a sip. The hot tea did nothing to warm the cold that settled in him.

Only four. More. Days.

Tenya didn't sleep much after that. Dozing on the couch until the morning light woke him up. He was very stiff and chilled to the bone. Like someone had left a window open. Tenya searched the house, simply pushing the heater up when he found no cause for alarm.

Tenya was very surprised as he let the dog out. The snow was ludicrously high. Five feet, give or take. He was willing to say give. Your poor pooch could barely get down to use the bathroom. Tenya just knew he was going to have to shovel a path for him.

Was his ideal morning bundled up and shoveling snow? He was fairly sure that no body's was. But he diligently donned his his coat, hat, scarves, gloves, and snow boots. Being a good dog father and shoveling a path down into the yard.

Tenya chuckled at the thought of you out here last year in the snow. A hair dry plugged into the side of the house. He yelled at you about the hazard, trying to argue that a hair dryer was not the most efficient way the clear snow. You started a snow ball fight after that. You'd both gone in drenched, and took a nice, hot, steamy shower together. His body tingled warmly at the thought, his face (and quite a few other places) feeling hot.

After shoveling, it was shower time. Then he made himself and the dog breakfast (yes, he makes the dog's food because he is a very good doggy daddy). After was time to tend to all the chores he'd been putting off in the wake of his depression. This included wrapping your gifts. Tenya knew you'd be home for Christmas, but it'd been too painful to wrap them before. Between his loneliness and the excitement that bubbled in him at the thought of you coming home in a few days, he felt numb but jittery. One canceling the other out.

And there was still so much to do.

Ochaco and Izuku had accidentally, inadvertently invited themselves over for Christmas. They wanted to throw a party. And somehow Tenya had gotten wrapped up in it all. He hadn't been able to get a hold of you to try and talk them down. So he did the responsible thing and said he'd take care of it all. They gushed about what to bring and who to invite, he just had to take care of the house and making sure everything was perfect. He supposed this was a sort of coming home celebration for you, so it didn't annoy him quite as much.

Tenya measured the dimensions each and every package he wrapped. Then he measured the wrapping paper. The process was tedious, but it ensured every piece of paper was used to the fullest. He pulled off the smallest pieces of tape that he possibly could, so he didn't waste the roll. Honestly, Tenya thought of how you might react as you opened them all. The excitement, the embarrassment, the sheer happiness that he wanted so much to bring you. He'd gone overboard, sure. But you were worth every penny. And all the burnt fingers. The thing he'd tried to make you did not go as well as he wanted. But Tenya just knew you were going to love it.

After wrapping, he figured having a nice tree to put them under would help. He'd only gone out and bought one. Nothing was decorated. That was something you two usually did together. There wasn't a tinkle of a light anywhere to be seen. Though he knew Ochaco and Izuku expected the place to look as warm and cozy as it always did this time of year.

The decorations were stored in a closet under the stairs. You had made it a giant Janga tower. Honestly, Tenya was a little scared to pull everything out. If he was crushed to death by decorations, no body would know for days. He studied your tower for a while. Thinking about when you'd put them in. You had struggled tremendously. He'd just chuckled. Tenya always thought everything you did was endearing. In it's own sort of way. In the love touched way.

When Tenya was sure nothing was going to fall, he started to pull things out and organize them into piles. Garland, ornaments, outside lights, indoor lights, the tree angel, upstairs decorations, table runners, stockings – he sprinted through the house as he sorted. He planned to start upstairs, then work his way down.

By the time he finished the upstairs it was early evening. He'd missed lunch, stopping only briefly to feed the dog. Now it was dinner time. He had no gumption to cook, though. So he heated up leftovers and sat at the table. Tenya stared at your empty chair as he ate. It was made up with a place mat, and a book, and your favourite mug.

Three more days.

It surprised him in the morning when there was a ring at the doorbell. Tenya had been up, working slowly at things around the house. He wasn't planning on company. Nor for Ochaco and Izuku to be standing behind the door. They had their own bags and piles of things in their arms. They grinned widely at him.

“What a surprise,” Tenya said, then moved aside. “Come in out of the snow. I hope the roads weren't too bad.”

They nodded and ducked in. “Thanks!”

“Most of the snow is melted already,” Ochaco pouted. “Izuku and I built a snowman yesterday, but he was just a pile of mush things morning!”

Izuku looked around, clearly surprised by the bare walls and shelves and tree. “Tenya, you haven't started decorating yet?”

Tenya looked away ashamedly. Eyes wandering on their own to a picture of you. His guests' eyes followed. Ochaco's grin dropped.

“Oh,” she said, putting her stuff down. “You're probably waiting for [Name], right?”

“Tenya, if you didn't want to have the party, you could've said something,” Izuku insisted.

Tenya had tried to tell them he didn't want to throw the party. Not at his house anyway. But they were so excited that they didn't listen. “It's fine. [Name] is coming home on Christmas. It'll be nice to have everyone here to welcome her back. I've just been putting it off. I didn't want to decorate alone.”

Ochaco hugged him tightly. “I'm sorry, Tenya. We're here to help!”

“Yeah!” Izuku looked disproportionately determined for the task. But Tenya was glad that his friend was as enthusiastic as ever. He needed the energy boost. “We're going to make it amazing for when [Name] comes home! You have nothing to worry about.”

The pair ran off, doing what, Tenya didn't know. But he sure was glad to have friends like them. They helped him finish decorating downstairs. And he made them lunch. Soon everything was dripping with sparkling lights and garlands and glitter. Three stockings hung on hooks that suctioned to the wall, one for you, one for Tenya, and one for the dog. He hoped to add more stockings in the near future. But how was that going to happen when you were barely home together long enough?

Ochaco and Izuku treated Iida to dinner that evening. Taking him to a restaurant down the way. They chatted quietly, mostly going over holiday plans.

“We're going to my parents' on Christmas Eve,” Ochaco noted, looking over the menu. “Then Deku's mom and All Might are coming with us to the party Christmas day. I hope you don't mind.”

Tenya shook his head. “No, it'll be nice to see them.”

“Are you doing anything Christmas Eve? You could always come with us,” offered Izuku.

“I'm going to my parents house. Tensei and his wife will be there.”

Ochaco's eyes lit up. “I didn't know he got married!”

“Not too long before I did. She's a lovely woman, and takes very good care of my brother. We're all very grateful to her.” Tensei smiled lightly, thinking about his brother's wedding. It'd been a very beautiful ceremony with many tears. He was best man, and dreaming about the day he was going to propose to you.

They ate and talked and laughed. For just a little while, Tenya felt like himself. Izuku and Ochaco walked him back home. It was dark now, and cold bit through their coats.

“Oh, before we go – I have invites for you to pass out at your agency.” Ochaco produced a stack of envelopes from her pocket. “Could you give them out next time you go in?”

“I managed to get a few days off to prepare for [Name]'s arrival, but I can run them in tomorrow,” Tenya said, taking the stack.

“Let us know when you're back,” said Izuku. “We'll help you decorate the outside.”

Tenya shook his head. “You've already done so much, I couldn't ask for more.”

“It's really no problem. We don't mind helping.”

“Very well, then.” Tenya nodded. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

As Tenya shut himself in for the night he sighed, leaning his head back against the door.

Just two more days.

Tenya set off bright and early the next morning. The air was still frosty and the sky looked like it wanted to flood the ground with more white. He was going to try and make this trip quick. He'd been getting increasingly pitying looks. He didn't want to hang around long, to see their eyes boring holes in him.

He hesitated at the doors, watching as his breath floated up to the sky. Even with gloves on, it felt like the cold seeped through from the door handle. Tenya didn't bother going to his office. He stopped at the front desk. The woman there smiled up at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Ingenium,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

“I need you to distribute these to all of the staff and heroes,” he said, pulling a large stack of envelopes from his coat. He'd spent the entire night trying to remember all of the staff at his agency.

“Can do.” She took the envelopes. But she didn't shift her gaze. “You look tired, sir. Are you doing okay?”

“There's a lot to do, is all. My wife will be home in a few days.” Tenya cleaned his glasses, looking for an excuse to break eye contact.

“Right,” she bit curtly. “Your wife.”

Tenya leaned on the counter, hoping to charm her with a smile. He was far too tired for this today. He was going to have to hire a new secretary sometime soon. “Izumi, it would mean a lot if you could pass these out to everyone. I'd be very grateful.”

The woman softened. “Anything you want, sir.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

Tenya left swiftly, before he had to endure anymore one sided flirting. The distaste his secretary expressed for his wife got tiresome. Along with her not-so-subtle hints for him to have an affair with her. He had more important things to worry about. Like making sure you came home to a magical display.

“Izuku,” he started, phone to his ear as he walked down the road. “I just left I should be home....soon....”

“Okay Tenya!” Izuku cheered from the other side. Then there was a long pause. “Tenya?”

But the man was distracted by the window he was passing. “I'll call you back when I get to the house.”

“Wait, is something wro –”

Tenya hung up, staring at the window display. It was perfect. It was just what he was looking for to top off the season. You were going to love it. He rushed in, demanding the display in the window. He wasn't usually the type. But he was just too excited. The clerks gently packaged it, tying neat bows around the box. Tenya had to stop himself from sprinting full force down the road.

He rushed a message to Izuku when he got home. But there was no hope of sitting still for him. By the time Ochaco and Izuku got there, he'd already had half the outside decorated. He was on the roof, hooking up the lights. He waved down at them.

Ochaco floated up the rest of the boxes for the roof. Izuku nearly floated away as he tried to help finish the lights. Tenya caught him and hauled him down. It felt like they were back in UA as students with the ensuing chaos.

Tenya treated the pair to a home made dinner. They had a few drinks and some laughs. But honestly, he just wanted to chug through the next few days. Today was the twenty third. Two more days to Christmas. Two more days to you coming home.

The trio examined their handy work when the sun went down. The house glowed and twinkled. It really did look like a winter wonderland. Tenya just knew you were going to love it. He was looking forward to seeing your face as you watched the display they made.

Just a few more days.

The morning of the twenty fourth was a lazy one. He didn't want to get out of bed. Tenya wanted to lay there until the following night. When you'd be there with him. To finally warm the thorough chill that hadn't left him in days.

But eventually he pulled himself up, going to the vase in the living room.

“Twenty five,” he muttered, slipping a flower in. “Twenty six....you'll have a very big bouquet this time, [Name].”

Tenya set to breakfast. He'd lost all his fire from yesterday. He was a tired shell now. He was so sure you were going to love what he found for you. But now one, long agonizing day laid ahead of him. The house was decorated, inside and out. Presents were wrapped. The tree was ready. Filled to the brim with perfectly packaged gifts, awaiting your arrival.

Tomorrow would be the party. You'd arrive after dark, hopefully with people still around to greet you. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing. Ochaco and Izuku were going to take care of all the other little details. All of the invites read a potluck and BYOB. In the meantime, he had to wait the day out. The only thing he had to look forward to distract him was seeing his family later that evening.

Christmas morning was to be lonely. Then, by three, the house would start filling up. By eight, you should be walking up the front entrance. By 8:01, you'd be in his arms and smothered in kisses. With any luck, you'd be making love by midnight.

Tenya went out and shoveled snow again. More than two feet had fallen in the night. The more snow that fell, the more he worried the weather was going to be too rough for your plane. He needed you, sooner rather than later preferably.

The day seemed to crawl away. Only a few minutes had passed every time he glanced at the clock. Had it always been so difficult to entertain himself? He'd already showered, made lunch, brushed snow meticulously from the front porch and back deck. He uncovered all of the decorations he'd put up the day before.

He was impatient by the time he had to leave to see his family. Even the ride there drove him crazy. The road seemed to stretch. The cars squeezing from every side. Would the tedium ever cease?

As the evening with his family began, he discovered it would not. Even as he laughed with his parents and brother, as he listened to stories and shared a few. His eyes never left his watch for long. It didn't go unnoticed, but it was left unmentioned. Just a look exchanged around him.

They knew, of course. That he counted down every second until he'd see you again. The light and fire you brought into his life was wonderful to see. But how they wished you didn't leave so much.

Tenya went to bed when he got home. But sleep didn't come. Not for a very long time. He tried to force himself asleep, just a single thought leaping in his head.

One. More. Night.

A new tickle of joy danced in his chest as he realized the day. Christmas. You were going to be home. He was going to be counting down the hours until he saw you.

Tenya zipped through his morning. Shoveling the fresh few inches of snow. Hand making the dog's food for the next week. Making breakfast for himself, showering, and pulling out the outfit you'd picked over video call a week ago. Just a red sweater with stripes and snowflakes and charcoal grey slacks. He spent time cleaning, making sure every inch was dusted.

He had his fire back – until he checked his phone just after lunch.

[NAME] (Wife)

My plane is being delayed. I won't be home until tomorrow. I'm so sorry, my love, I wanted to be home for Christmas. So, very much....

Tenya felt a little bit of himself break. He slumped in his reading chair, phone discarded on the table. He stared blankly ahead of him. His worst fear had come true. One more day had turned into two. And with this snow, two could easily turn into three or four.

Ochaco and Izuku came not too long after. They knocked on the door, rang the door bell. The dog barked. Eventually they tried the handle, letting themselves in. They exchanged a worried look as they spied their friend. They could see the hollowness of his eyes.

“Tenya...?” Ochaco whispered.

“She's not coming,” he muttered numbly.

Izuku put a hand on Tenya's shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“[Name]'s flight – it's been delayed. She won't be home until tomorrow....” Tenya could barely scrap his eyes to his phone. He didn't want to look at it. To see anything else that might ruin him.

“But she'll be home, at least.”

“You don't understand. You two have each other. Tensei will be spending the holiday with his wife. And I have her. If [Name] isn't here....”

Izuku and Ochaco glanced at each other again.

“We'll still have a good time, Tenya,” Ochaco said, trying to cheer him up.

“Yeah, people will start to be here soon! You won't even know she's missing!” Then Izuku began to panic. “Not that we don't want her here. But maybe getting your mind off of her will help. Not that you shouldn't miss your wife on a holiday but –”

Tenya chuckled. At least something was normal. Izuku eased some at the sound. He and Ochaco set up the kitchen, while Tenya put away anything he didn't want broken. You never knew if someone was going to get rowdy.

As the first people showed up, the booze flooded in. Tenya had only meant to have one. But he was having a self-pity streak. One became two, two became three. Different Christmas mixes that people brought, some made right in his kitchen; homemade egg nogs, and Christmas cocktails, holiday ciders. He claimed they were just to try. Normally, he'd be following people around. Putting down coasters, ensuring that they didn't slosh on the couch, making sure no one was scuffing up the floors. But Izuku was already doing a pretty good job of that. Probably to make sure Tenya didn't have to worry. But it left him too idle.

Tenya chatted with his co-workers as they came. They complimented his house, saying they wouldn't have expected anything else from an Iida. He went around, greeting everyone. Thanking each person for coming. Each drink numbing just slightly more. He spent a good deal of time talking to Izuku's mom and All Might.

He was caught in the middle of an inescapable conversation with his insufferable secretary when Izuku came to tap him on the shoulder. His friend pointed towards the entrance to your house. Tenya's eyes followed his arm, going wide at what they found. They swept to the clock on the wall – it only read 5:23. In alarm, he triple checked what he was reading, to be sure he was right. With a puff from his quirk, Tenya launched himself.

You screamed as he tackled you. He kept you upright, making you didn't fall. Tenya smooshed your face with too many kisses to keep up with. He squeezed you tightly in his arms. You could smell the liquor on him. Since when did he drink? You hoped this wasn't the start of a bad habit.

“[Name]! You're here!” he exclaimed in disbelief. He held you at arm's length, looking you up and down just to be sure you were real.

You laughed, nodding. “Yeah!”

“But your plane –”

“I – uh – I lied.” You glanced away from him, your face hot. “My flight was actually bumped up. I wanted to surprise you. I wasn't expecting you to get stupid drunk.”

Tenya sunk to the floor, and pulled you into his lap. He was so cute with his goofy grin and the pink dusting on his cheeks. He rubbed his cheek against yours. Your guests chuckled at the sight. You pulled him in for a long, hard kiss. So glad to finally have him in your arms. You could feel every bit of his body against yours. You had to calm his hands as they roamed freely over your body. They were dipping into places that shouldn't be caressed in public.

Finally – no more counting the days.

No more nights between you.

No more hours to wait.

You two were together. And it was the sweetest feeling in the world.

“Why wouldn't I have been upset by the delay?” he rambled. “I've missed you, and I didn't want to think of another day without you here. I needed a little boost. Drinking was perhaps not the best choice.”

Tenya clung to you all night, never letting you out of his sight. Seeing everyone was lovely. You really couldn't have asked for a better homecoming. The lights he'd put up outside were spectacular. And the warm cozy air your home had taken on was supernatural. Or maybe it was just because you were glad to be home.

It was nearly midnight when everybody finally left. Ochaco and Izuku had stayed to help you clean. Tenya wouldn't let you go long enough to do anything. You were about to force him upstairs when he stumbled over to the tree.

“No, no, no – you have to open this. While it's still Christmas. Please,” Tenya pouted, and forced a little black box with a shimmering silver lid into your hand. The childish pout on his face was adorable, but he really should've been getting to bed.

“Tenya –”

“Open it.”

You eyed him suspiciously, but planted yourself on the couch. He adhered himself to your side. He held you closely, head on your shoulder. A red ribbon was tied lovingly around the box. It was always too beautiful to unwrap. You had a suspicion Tenya hadn't done this himself. He packaged things neatly, but aesthetics weren't his forte.

You pulled the ribbon, then peered into the box. You looked at him, then in the box, then back again.

“You did not go out and spend a fortune,” you scolded.

Tenya shrugged. “You deserve the world.”

“Tenya!” But you couldn't deny it was beautiful.

It was simple, with a thin silver chain. Hanging from the end was a pendant. It had your birth stone in set on the part where the chain went through. And there was immaculate scroll work around the edges. Tenya took it briefly from your hands, the pressed the sides.

The front popped open. A lump pressed in your throat. A miniature of your wedding photo was nestled inside the frame. Tenya turned it over, revealing both of your initials along with your wedding date on the back.

“I left the other half open, for when we have a family of our own,” he muttered drowsily. “I love you more than the world. I'm very happy you're finally home. I'd be very happy if you didn't have to leave again.”

“I love this. I love you,” you murmured in reply, then turned your head to kiss him.

You put the locket back in the box, then helped him stand. You hauled Tenya upstairs, and got him changed. He insisted on brushing his teeth, even though he coud barely stand up right. The necklace took up a home on your night stand. You were going to wear this every day that you could. It was your new favourite piece of jewelry.

Once you were settled into bed, he immediately took you in him arms. He hummed in content.

“How would you feel about being a secretary?” Tenya slurred, nuzzling his nose into the back of your neck. “I'm going to need a new one soon. Mine is gonna get fired.”

You sighed. “I actually wanted to talk to about that. I wanted to wait until you were sober. But – I'm going to quit my job. That way I can be home with you. If we want a family....I'm also tired of spending so much time away from you. You can't imagine how lonely the world is without you with me to see it.”

Tenya sighed. “I want your....baabbeeezzz...”

You chuckled. “Tenya? - Love?”

A light snoring told you he was out cold. You smiled to yourself as he snuggled closer to you. You relaxed into him. You'd been waiting for this for ages. Or, it felt like ages anyway. You didn't want to be away from him anymore. Coming home to the one you love? It was amazing. But getting to stay home with them? That was the best Christmas gift you could ask for.

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whumpasaurus101 · 3 years

Text

'898

Haven't written Danny in quuiiittteee a while sooooo, here ya go! :D I'm sorry for the delay in Asher / Danny content <3

CW: Biting / Dehuminization / Creepy whumper /

Previous / Masterlist

Danny woke up with a fright as his mattress was kicked. He opened his eyes to see Aiden standing over him, He opened his mouth but Aiden’s heavy hand was pressed against his mouth. Danny let out a muffled cry as he tried to push the man’s hand away, but it was useless. He was quickly backhanded and hoisted from his mattress.

He tried to fight Aiden’s strong grip but it only grew tighter. Once he was shoved outside the ‘bed’room, he was slammed against the wall. Danny whimpered as his head hit the concrete. When his vision went back to normal, he saw Mathew standing at the front door, head hung, eyes burning into the carpet just by the front door.

Danny’s head snapped back to Aiden, who wore a stupid smirk. God, how Danny wanted to slap that stupid face. He then leaned in close and whispered right into Danny’s ear, making him squirm, “Now, you're a smart boy. You wouldn’t want to try anything that would cause harm to others if you disobey me.”

Danny tried to make a smart remark but it was muffled by Aiden’s hand. “So shut the fuck up, and stop fighting. Or else I’ll let my friends have a go with Mathew.” Danny shook his head quietly and Aiden chuckled, “That’s what I thought. Walk.” He was shoved forward and Mathew -not looking at him once- opened the front door. Aiden pushed him against the car door and yanked his arms behind him, tying a thick rope around his arms.

He then took a roll of duct tape and spun him around. Danny took a deep breath and the tape was stuck over his mouth. He looked to Mathew, who quickly hurried to the front seat, head bowed in shame.

The back car door was opened and Aiden shoved Danny inside. Danny lay on his back over three back seats, staring blankly at the light over him. It was still dark outside, but the birds were chirping. He jumped when the car started again. “Sit tight Danny boy, it's a long ride!”

The car hummed as it travelled on the road. Danny tried to yawn as best he could but it was impossible with the tape. A million thoughts raced through his head. Where were they going? Was he being sent off? Surely not. Mathew would’ve been sadder….. right?

After a lot of turns and a lot of lamp posts passed, the car turned into what Pheonix presumed was a carpark. Aiden got out, opened the back door and dragged Danny out of the car by his legs. He collapsed on the concrete ground with a grunt and glared at Aiden. He was roughly lifted up and was once again slammed against the door. His ropes were cut and the duct tape was ripped off.

Danny stopped at the door once it was opened. There, four people dressed in dressy clothes sat at a conference table. The room was brightly illuminated by the windows which ran all along the walls. Aiden once again shoved him inside. Danny fell to the rough carpet with a whimper. “Sanjay, Peter, Alex, Rosie, thank you for coming in such short notice!” Aiden beamed.

Everyone smiled apart from Rosie who scowled, furrowing her eyebrows, “This better be good, I have -ten minutes,” She scowled, looking at her silver watch. Aiden chuckled, “Of course, of course. Trust me, you won’t want to miss this!” He kicked Danny hard in his side, “Hey, up!”

Danny let out a whimper, clutching his side tightly. But he didn't hesitate on scrambling to his feet and looking over to Aiden in confusion. Where the hell was this place and why were they here? He was roughly yanked by his plain black collar. He let out a gasp as his hands flew up to the collar in an attempt to loosen it.

“This is Danny, some of you might know him as 34703.” Danny noticed as one of the men’s heads cocked to the side, why did he look so familiar? - “He will be my show dog today. So, we’ve had a few complaints with owners saying their pets are starting to disobey-” Danny’s heart dropped, no, he- he was good! He didn't disobey!!!! “-So I have come up with a simple solution! Mathew, bring in ‘898 please.” Danny’s head snapped over to Mathew, giving him pleading eyes, but Mathew ignored him, gulping and slowly made his way to the door. He disappeared for a moment but later returned with a growling beast. To Danny’s eyes he looked about mid thirties? He didn't know- definitely older than him anyway. And much taller.

Mathew was holding him by the collar, eyes still not daring to meet with Danny’s. The man he was holding had… were they fangs?! Oh Hell no, Danny’s breathing started picking up, “Ai-Aiden, n-no, I don't wanna do this! I-”

“-Everyone, this is ‘898, he is our new breed. Breaking dog. If your pet simply obeys, and you're getting sick and tired of their crap, all you have to do is say the ‘magic words’ and ‘898 here will handle the disobedient mutt for you.”

Sanjay looked at Aiden from over his glasses which had slid down his nose as he took down notes. Alex sat back in their chair, clasping their hands together, “Well, will you show us what it does?” Aiden chuckled, “Why of course, ‘898, break.”

Before Danny could even flinch, ‘898 was on top of him, knocking him to the ground. Danny let out a horrified cry and almost broke down there and then. He used all his strength to try and shove or kick the man off of him but it was hopeless, nothing worked.

He let out a shrill shriek as ‘898’s teeth sunk into his arm which had used, trying to push him away. “P-please Aiden! Please!!!! Make him s-s-stop!!!! I pro-promise that I’ll be good!! Ple-ase.” His voice broke at the last sentence.

Aiden let out a chuckle and let it carry on for a few more moments, looking to his colleagues for approval. His smile brightened as he saw all four of them staring straight at the scene, all looking impressed. Even Rosie!!!

“Alright, ‘898, release.” In an instant, ‘898 was off of Danny who was now a crying mess. He curled in on himself, clutching his bleeding arm as tight to his chest as possible. He muttered “Sorry sir.” over and over again.

The four colleagues slowly brought their eyes back up to Aiden once Mathew had retrieved ‘898, who wiped the excess blood away from his mouth with his forearm, spitting the remaining blood in his mouth onto the carpet. He looked down at Danny, expression blank.

Danny’s lungs were on fire. Mathew tried to blink back the tears but he looked down as they slowly trickled down his cheeks.

Aiden fiddled with his fingers behind his back. “Well,” Alex said, letting out a sigh, “Can you step outside while we have a discussion?” Aiden forced a smile, “Of course.” He cocked his head to the door and Mathew brought ‘898 out of the room. Aiden then turned to Danny, “C’mon, up.” When Danny didn't oblige straight away, he kicked him in the ribs and dragged him up by under the shoulders.

He tried to weakly fight against his grip but he was so embarrassed, tired, and the pain was too much for him. He whimpered as he was thrown onto a chair outside. He knelt beside him and stroked his hand through his hair, “Hey, hey, listen to me, you did so good for me, okay?”

Danny whimpered but his heart lifted as he heard Aiden’s words. He jumped as he heard ‘898 growl. Aiden chuckled in the crease of Danny’s neck and turned to face him, “Oh, don't worry, you were amazing too, such a good dog!” ‘898 made some sort of happy noise. Danny whined, he wasn’t human. He was anything but human.

He pressed himself closer to Aiden and rubbed his head against his shirt, feeling the warmth against his chest. Aiden ran a hand fondly through Danny’s hair. The door opened moments later and Sanjay came through, “Aiden, can we talk to you?” Aiden stood up from his honkers and walked into the other room.

Danny kept his arm close to him, it was still bleeding, a lot. He started to speak, his voice hoarse, “I- I thought you were on my side.” Mathew felt his heart shatter, “Danny, please, you don't understand! And the-the threats he gave me, Danny.” Danny gulped, he believed him but he was in too much pain and was too embarrassed.

‘898 was kneeling right by Mathew’s legs. Danny looked away, he didn't like the look of them two. “Danny, please say you believe me.”

“Y-yeah, I do, I’m sorry, I just -just a warning would've been good.”

Mathew looked over at the boy’s arm and sighed, he took off his t-shirt and ripped at part of the seam which kept the two sides together. He tore the fabric in a semicircle and the fabric came off. “Here give me your arm for a second.” When he did, Mathew carefully wound the fabric tight around Danny’s wound, making him wince slightly.

Danny looked up at him as he did so. He studied how there was a slight furrow in Mathew’s brows and his tongue slightly sticking out from concentration. He couldn't help but smile as he saw him. Mathew gave the fabric a tight pull and neatly tucked it in between each fold, “There, that should do you until we get home, I think,” Mathew’s tough voice was back on and Danny let out a sigh, “Thanks.” Danny wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks and sniffed.

“We like this, Aiden, we really do,” Alex smiled. “But,” Rosie added with a stern tone, “How are we sure that these breaking dogs will follow clear instructions?” Aiden thought about this for a while, “Special training, when we think the dog is ready, we bring them to the special training facility to ensure they are broken fully.” Rosie scribbled down more notes into her notepad. She closed it and looked to her employees and nodded, “Well, I for one would say that this would work. I’d be delighted to see how this goes, I really think that this has potential!” Aiden felt a grin paint his face. Sanjay cleared his throat, I also agree with Rosie.”

“Same here.” “Me too.”

Rosie closed her notebook and smiled… smiled, “Well, thank you very much Mr Smith, we will be sure to look further into this idea and hope to hold a meeting next week.” Aiden smiled and bowed, “Thank you so much for your time, I’ll be sure to bring my boy along with me.”

Danny jumped as the door opened, “Danny, Mathew, go to the car, I'll bring ‘898 back to his cell,” Aiden smiled, throwing the car keys to Mathew, who quickly caught them. Aiden took ‘898 by the collar and guided him away. Once they disappeared down the corridor, Mathew stood up and Danny copied him.

Danny went to walk but stopped when Mathew held out his arms, Danny looked at him weird until Mathew closed the gap in between them, slowly wrapping his arms around him, “I’m sorry.” Danny didn't say anything, he just closed his eyes tight and wrapped his arms tighter around Mathew.

They weren't usually allowed to hug -no, they weren’t allowed to hug, but Mathew made sure they did. Physical touch was important, especially for Danny. Mathew broke the hug in fear that Aiden would return without them noticing.

They both walked to the car park and sat in the vehicle, waiting patiently for Aiden to return. Danny noticed the blood on Aiden’s collar when he returned, it made his stomach knot up. Aiden sighed as he got into the car and revved the engine, “How does fast food sound?” Mathew and Danny both looked at each other with excited looks.

The car started up again and Danny rested his head against the window, slowly closing his eyes. He was tired. He didn't know if it was from the blood loss or the immense pain he was in, but he could feel everything around him spinning. The thought of food made his stomach rumble.

“We’ll get your wound sorted in no time Darling, alright?” Danny nodded, soon remembering Aiden couldn't see him. “Y-yes sir, thank you.” He ended up drifting off on the way, he was exhausted, but he didn't have any good dreams, oh no no no. He hadn't had a good dream since- he didn't know…

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he wasn't in the facility anymore, he was safe, and he had Mathew, what could go wrong?

---

Taglist:

@likeit-or-whumpit @milk-carton-whump @yesthisiswhump @as-a-matter-of-whump @appy-polly-loggies @happy-whumper (let me know if you want to be added or removed) <3

#biting #conditioned whumpee #creepy whumper #dehuminization #Danny #Aiden #Mathew #'898 #whump #whump writing #whump story

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starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Lukanette June 2021 Day 22 - Sacrifice

@lukanettejune <3

Oh god this is probably the longest one I ever written.

This was originally going to be obvious Marinette and Luka giving their lives for each other but someone else beat me to the punch on that so I decided to do something different....I hope this counts as sacrifice.

This fanfic also contains Adrigami, but just a little.

Enjoy lovebugs!

Marinette was nervous out of her mind right now because Tikki once again encouraged her to confess her feelings to Luka.

In fact, everyone introduced the idea to her. Alya, Kagami, Adrien, even her parents hinted it to her.

But Marinette was understandably nervous.

They were good friends. Luka always said the sweetest things to her, and he was always there for her. But at the time, she thought she was in love with Felix.

But everything didn't go as Marinette planned initially. She came to realize she was blind by love and Felix was a jerk. He even played with her briefly while also flirting with Lila.

Marinette got out of the phase, kicking and screaming. At the end of it, Luka made her smile while playing his beautiful guitar music.

Ok, maybe she should tell him she likes him. She has finally realized it.

But she couldn't shake this guilt of how she chose Felix over Luka a few times and even loudly declared that Luka was a friend, but only because others annoyed her about it.

Marinette heard the sound of Luka's guitar on the school campus, and her heart sang as well. She wanted to run to Luka this time and give him all her attention. But she heard someone else as she turned a corner.

"Your music is very exquisite, Lukakins!"

Marinette's heart stopped, and she saw Chloe sitting next to Luka on a bench.

The bench was facing away from Marinette, so Luka didn't see her. He was just hunched over with his guitar in his hands, and Chloe was busy ogling him, even touching him a few times. It made Marinette's face heat up a bit.

"Not exquisite enough for a gala," Luka said.

"Don't be silly. Your music will be perfect at the gala!" Chloe said.

Just then, Chloe noticed Marinette behind them. Still, Chloe said nothing as she gave a devious smirk at Marinette and placed her hands on Luka's shoulders.

Marinette wanted to get angry, but she realized that she shouldn't start a fight. And that perhaps she had her opportunity to be with Luka, and she missed it.

It hurt to see Luka with Chloe, but maybe this was all her fault.

Marinette turned away, not wanting to see this any longer. Besides, if she truly loved Luka, she would let him be.

He'd probably be happy with rich girl Chloe anyway.

Chloe gave one last smirk as Marinette walked away. Luka finally got out of his sullen state and turned around.

"Who was there?" Luka asked.

"No one!" Chloe cried, but then she realized she was too brash and took Luka's cheek to turn him away. "No one, sweetie."

Chloe smiled at Luka, but Luka couldn't help but think about how he caught a short glimpse of Marinette as she turned a corner.

~~~~

Marinette sat in her room in the dark. There were photos of Felix with black X's painted on and red devil horns drawn taped on her wall.

And at her desk, Marinette was drawing her and Luka in anime chibi form. She thought she would get over this with maturity.

Then there was a knock on her door.

"Come in!" Marinette said as she put her drawing away.

Her big father peaked through the door. "Marinette, how are you doing?"

Marinette chewed on the end of her pen. "I'm doing fine…."

Her father was as optimistic as ever. "Well, can I ask you a favor, Marinette?"

Marinette would mope in her room all night, but she felt maybe she should get over Luka by being preoccupied. "Sure!"

Marinette followed her father down to the living room, where her mother was also waiting.

"Marinette, this is very exciting!" Her mother said.

Marinette was wondering what this exciting thing was going to be.

Tom placed his arm around Sabine. "We were asked to cater for the Paris Gala," Tom said. "We were wondering if you want to cater with us, Marinette," Sabine said with a smile.

Tom winked. "They could use plenty of workers to help feed the masses!"

Marinette was mortified. The Paris Gala would have the mayor present, and Chloe would be present as well. And she would probably bring Luka as well. She wanted to leave Luka be and show support to him with a smile.

Marinette shifted nervously. "I'm not sure…."

"Marinette…" Her father gave her puppy dog eyes. "It would be super helpful."

"And you could make some extra money, my dear," Sabine said.

Marinette then realized her parents wanted her to do this the entire time, and at this point, she couldn't say no.

The night of the gala was on the top floor of the city hall building. Marinette wore her maid waitress outfit and had a slightly sullen look on her face as she helped prepare everything. She tried to reason with herself that tonight would probably just be a mundane night as she prepared the fancy stack of macarons. There were pistachio, strawberry, mint, passionfruit, and other flavors.

Marinette hummed a song to herself as she finished stacking the tower of macarons.

"Well, this looks delicious!"

Marinette shifted around to see Chloe alongside Luka. Luka looked blank-faced, but there was a glow in his ocean blue eyes that Marinette couldn't read, and Chloe looked triumphant.

"You did well, Miss Waitress," Chloe said in a charmingly mocking tone that caused Marinette to raise her eyebrow.

"Yeah," Luka's voice made Marinette's heart stir. "The macarons look delicious," Luka gave a small smile.

"May I?" Luka asked.

Marinette couldn't speak at first, her face was glowing red, and she couldn't stop it.

"Yes, enjoy!" Marinette said as she got out of the way so the guests could pick their macarons.

Marinette imagined how seductive it would be to feed Luka a pistachio macaron while wearing her maid outfit, but that daydream was shattered when she saw Luka trying to eat a pistachio macaron only for Chloe to place a passionfruit macaron in his mouth.

Marinette couldn't take this and walked away to the dining area to take care of napkins and cutlery. Sure she wanted to put her foot down and protect Luka, but there was technically no one to protect. He was clearly her date.

Soon the guests got in their seats, and the lights were starting to dim for the entertainment.

"Our first performance will be by a young talent named Luka Couffaine," said the announcer.

Marinette's heart leaped. Chloe must've agreed to get him a performance spot.

"Oh, Luka…" Marinette thought. His singing and guitar playing always caused her own heartstrings to play music.

"Everyone be seated as the performance is about to start," the announcer said.

Marinette almost mindlessly poured water into the guests' glasses until the sound of two voices caused her to snap out of it.

"Marinette?"

Marinette blinked and nearly spilled the water as she noticed she was at a table Adrien and Kagami sat at. Both of them had stunned looks on their faces, and Marinette tried to compose herself.

"" Good evening," Marinette said. "Can I get you two anything?" She really did mean what she said since Adrien and Kagami were some of her best friends.

Neither Adrien nor Kagami were phased by Marinette's act.

"Why are you here, Marinette?" Kagami asked.

"And why is Luka with Chloe?" Adrien asked with a bit of disgust.

Marinette could only bring herself to shrug as she turned around at the sound of guitar tuning. She couldn't get her eyes off him as the blue spotlight shined on him, and he started playing a gentle tune. Everyone in the audience almost completely had undivided attention for the young guitarist.

"What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive."

Marinette smiled to herself as she went back to serving the guests. Luka's song caught her heart even if she was trying to move on, but his song still comforted her.

"I can't keep up, and I can't back down. I've been losing so much time."

Now Marinette couldn't help but glance at Luka, and she started to wonder if he was looking at her. Marinette just tried to look away dutifully as she placed plates of food on tables.

"Cause it's you and me and all other people with nothing to do…."

"Nothing to lose."

"And it's you and me and all other people…."

"And I don't know why...I can't keep my eyes off of you."

Adrien and Kagami held hands while they listened to Luka's romantic song. But they both gave each other knowing looks after glancing at both Luka and Marinette.

"There's something about you now. That I can't quite figure out!"

"Everything she does is beautiful!"

"Everything she does is right…."

Marinette walked out of the dining room and into the hallway. She leaned against the wall and clutched her hand on her heart, trying to ease her pain before going into the kitchen.

"Marinette!" Kagami cried.

Marinette nearly had a heart attack screaming as she realized Kagami and Adrien followed her.

"Marinette, we need to get you in a ballgown!" Kagami cried as she took Marinette by the hand.

This was a drastic change in plans Marinette wasn't anticipating.

"Wait!" Marinette cried as she tried to resist. "If I leave the job, my dad will ground me until I turn 18!" She cried.

"I'll handle it. Just go!" Adrien said as he gave Kagami and Marinette a gentle shove.

Kagami quickly dragged Marinette to get dressed, and Marinette nearly fell over a few times trying to keep up.

~~~~

Luka stood with his hands around him as it was almost about time to dance in pairs. Honestly, he'd rather just be a wallflower for the night. Luka watched the pairs spin round and round. Eventually, a young lady in a gown and a ponytail smiled at him again.

"May I have this dance?" She said with her hand outstretched to him.

Luka took a breath and then composed himself. "Sure," he said as he gave her his hand.

Chloe had her hands on his strong chest as he spun the both of them around. Luka felt the world spin as they spun around along with all the other dancing pairs.

Soon Kagami entered the room, holding Marinette by her arm. Marinette wore a sparkling sleeveless pink gown and wore a mask, so hopefully, her parents wouldn't spot her.

Marinette grimaced at the sight of Luka and Chloe dancing as a pair and Chloe enjoying every moment of it. She felt discouraged now because she saw they were together, but Kagami gave Marinette a gentle shove on the arm.

"Don't worry, you can do this!" Kagami said.

"Do what? Make a fool of myself?" Marinette thought bitterly.

Just then, Adrien also made his appearance wearing a butler outfit and holding a serving tray in one hand. He expertly held some drinks on top of the tray.

"At your service, ladies!" Adrien said with a wink.

Kagami smiled at her dorky boyfriend, and Adrien's eyes gleamed as he stood by Kagami's side.

"Oh lovely Miss Kagami, how may I be of service?"

Kagami giggled. "Try to give Marinette some encouragement."

Marinette found herself walking away from Kagami and Adrien's tomfoolery. She felt she could use the other exit and leave Luka be.

"Don't worry! Just dance like there is no one else in the room!" Adrien said. "I do it all the time!"

Marinette sighed to herself and got a glance at Luka dancing with Chloe again.

Even though she sacrificed her own feelings for him, for some reason, she couldn't stand to see him with Chloe anymore. She got glimpses of Luka's blue eyes and didn't see their usual light.

Maybe she should at least let her feelings be known.

But Marinette tried to walk closer to them, but she ended up bumping into a few dancing pairs.

Marinette yelped a few times, and some of them loudly told her to watch where she was going.

This was undoubtedly going wrong!

"Sorry!" Marinette cried.

She promptly ran out of the dancing area to avoid more collisions, but then she ended up falling down. Marinette sat on the ground in her dress, thinking she couldn't possibly look more ridiculous.

"Wait!"

Marinette looked up and saw Luka trying to break away from Chloe's grasp. Chloe had an excellent hold on his wrist, but eventually, her fingers slipped, and Luka moved toward Marinette.

He then held out his hand to her. His blue eyes glowed, and he gave her the most adorable smile.

Marinette took his hand and felt his warmth as he helped her up.

"If I can ask, have we met?" Luka said.

Marinette blushed and couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Luka!" Chloe cried. Her eyes were fierce. "I thought you agreed to be my date!"

Luka seemed a bit irritated now. "Chloe, I thought you only wanted me to come as a friend."

"Oh," Chloe moved a step closer in Luka's personal space, shadowing Marinette. "We could always be more." She said as she was about to reach for Luka's cheek.

"No!" Marinette cried.

Chloe gave Marinette an icy stare, and Luka's mouth dropped.

"No!" Marinette repeated. "Because I like Luka…... And I should've told him a long time ago." Marinette hung her head.

This is the exact opposite of what Marinette intended to do, but at least the truth finally came out.

And Luka gently took her hand, causing Marinette to lose her breath for a brief second.

Chloe groaned. "Fine then! Date that plain Jane! See if I care, rockstar!"

Chloe stomped out of the room, and Marinette couldn't help but smile as her presence was finally gone. Luka took a moment to squeeze her hand, but then a twinge of guilt returned to Marinette, so she released his hand.

"Luka, I'm sorry!" Marinette cried.

Luka's eyes went wide as he tried to comfort her with his touch again, but Marinette still refused.

"I wanted to confess to you, but I wondered if I was too late after all those times I put Felix over you like a lovesick idiot, and then I saw you with Chloe and felt your happiness should come first."

Just then, Luka placed his hands on Marinette's shoulders and pulled her closer. Marinette couldn't help but wrap her arms around him and find comfort from him.

"I still love you, Marinette," he said gently. "I just thought I should put my feelings to the side because you liked Felix."

Marinette held him tighter. "No!" She cried in his chest. "I realize now I was obsessed with Felix! It wasn't love! I love you, Luka! I love you so much and…."

She was so happy to have him in her arms now.

When the gala started slowing down, Luka and Marinette sat at a table with Kagami. Kagami gave a pleased approving look.

"There is much better energy when Luka is with Marinette," Kagami said.

Luka gave Marinette such a loving look to Marinette with his ocean blue eyes that made Marinette bashful.

Adrien walked to the table holding a tray. He took one of the plates and set it down to Marinette and Luka. It was a plate of pasta noodles and sauce.

"For you two!"

Adrien turned to his girlfriend. "And for the lovely Kagami-Sama. The chef's special strawberry shortcake." He placed the other plate down next to Kagami.

Kagami blushed. "Thank you, Adrien. You still look like a handsome prince in that waiter outfit."

Adrien blushed back as he held the tray close to him. "Aw, thanks! It was fun too! Even if some of the guests were like 'Mr. Agreste! What are you doing serving tables?!'"

Kagami and Adrien took a moment to laugh, and Marinette and Luka took a moment to eat the pasta.

"Marinette!"

Marinette and Luka nearly choked on the pasta when they saw Marinette's father looking a bit disappointed.

"Papa!" Marinette cried. "I can explain!" Marinette nearly hid under the table cloth in panic.

Tom shook his head. "You walked out on being a waitress to dance at the gala!"

Marinette bit her lip, and Adrien stood up. "Mr. Dupain! I took care of catering for Marinette! Please don't be mad at her!"

"I should ground you, Marinette," Tom said sternly.

"I convinced Marinette to do this!" Kagami cried. "Please don't ground her."

Tom turned around and threw his hands up. "And you got your friends involved as well. I would ground all of you if I could."

Adrien and Kagami were unphased by that remark.

"You'll never ground me as badly as my mother does. When she grounds me, she throws me in the dungeon!" Kagami said.

"And when my father grounds me, he places me in a soundproof room with no technology for 6 hours. Sometimes 10 hours for good measure!" Adrien cried.

Marinette was trying to stifle her laughter, and then Luka took her hand.

"At least allow me to take Marinette out to dinner and a movie before you ground her, Mr. Dupain," Luka said.

Suddenly Tom became less angry as his eyes widened by the revelation.

"Marinette, you are finally dating Luka?" Tom said.

Marinette smiled and shrugged, and Luka wrapped his arm around her, smiling.

But after a pause of happiness, Tom spoke,

"Well, your mother and I should still ground you, so no movie dates for now."

Marinette sighed in defeat.

Adrien and Kagami, however, managed to convince Tom to let Marinette stay a bit longer. The dining and ballroom area was nearly empty as the gala was over. Adrien and Kagami sat at the piano.

The fancy ballroom was so tranquil with just the four of them.

"This one's for you two," Adrien said as he prepared his fingers. "Congrats on finally dating."

Adrien played a piano version of Luka's song, and Luka happily offered his hand to Marinette.

The two of them danced as if they were flying. A dance was so much more energetic and magical when feelings of love were shared. They both made significant sacrifices that led to misunderstandings. Still, it was even bigger proof of the love they had for each other.

Author’s Note: Oh god...This fanfic nearly killed me, I just wanna go back to writing short fanfics but I kind of like this one.

The song I used for this fanfic is “You and Me” by Lifehouse, possibly one of my favorite romantic songs ever! I may have dedicated this song to guys I liked in the past.

Again I hope this counts as sacrifice with both Marinette and Luka putting each other’s feelings first...That counts as a sacrifice right?

Anyway, I hope you lovely lovebugs enjoyed and I will see all of you next prompt. It’s going to be a treat!

#lukanette #pro lukamari #otp #adrigami #my writing #my fanfiction #lukanette june 2021

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

Text

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate au) -- part five

This part is allll action but that’s what you need to pay attention to (that sounds so vague and cringe-worthy,,, anyway). Enjoy! xx.

Warnings: a lot of h*ckin’ words lmao, but other than that just the same violence in the movie, angst (of course)

Bucharest, Romania.

You recognize some of the city from your dreams. You didn’t think it was possible to dream about what your soulmate is currently seeing because if that was the case, you can’t imagine what you would’ve seen through The Winter Soldier’s eyes. But when you recall a third building from your dream, you think it’s less of a coincidence than you originally thought.

The plan is simple. You and Steve are to go into Bucky’s apartment, wait for him (or find him already) there. Sam is standing guard outside, but he’s already said he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much. It’s one man against whatever forces get called in. It’s not looking to be in Sam’s (or your and Steve’s) favor.

Unfortunately, you think he’s right.

The end goal is to bring Bucky in alive. You desperately want to run away with him and disappear to some place where no one has orders to shoot him on sight, but you know that isn’t possible. Despite your confidence in Vienna not being Bucky’s fault, Steve still wants to do the right thing and bring him in. Even if he might be considered a criminal doing it.

Stepping inside Bucky’s apartment nearly suffocates you.

You’ve had dreams about this place. Multiple times.

You spin slowly in a circle, taking it all in. When you saw it in your dreams, it wasn’t this vivid. The bed wasn’t a small twin because you both fit on it. And newspapers weren’t taped to the windows. Because in your dreams, those aren’t needed. No one is watching the two of you there.

That’s how you want things to be.

Through the radio -- that Sam bitched about connecting you to -- you ask Sam if he’s got anything.

“Not yet,” he replies. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you shrug, then you freeze. Your back is to the doorway, but you feel Bucky when he enters the room. You don’t hear his footsteps and you imagine he wanted it that way, but you feel his soul just the same. There is no hiding one’s soul from its counterpart.

You turn around slowly, keeping your movements controlled. You don’t know who you’re about to meet. You know it’s Bucky, but…

“Heads up,” Sam comes through. “German Special Forces approaching from the south.”

“Understood,” Steve replies. He turns to look at you, realizing how quiet it’s gotten, only to find you standing in a staring match with your soulmate.

You should say something. Anything. But you can’t think of a damn thing right now.

After all this time, he’s standing here. The hat over his head only makes you want to take it off so you can run your fingers through his hair. He’s layered in so many clothes, most of them baggy. Hiding in plain sight is easier than some think, and he looks like he’s mastered it. No wonder you couldn’t find him for two years.

“Do you know me?” Steve’s voice breaks the tense silence, slicing right through the air.

Bucky’s eyes move from yours to Steve’s. His expression remains blank, giving away nothing. “You’re Steve.” He nods to the notebook in Steve’s hand. “I read about you in a museum.”

Sam’s voice comes back through. “They’ve set the perimeter.”

“I know you’re nervous,” Steve presses on. You feel useless standing here, saying nothing. Rendered speechless by the mere sight of your soulmate. “And you have plenty of reason to be.”

Finally, you find your words. “You’re lying.” Bucky’s eyes snap back to yours. “I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” Bucky asks incredulously, the first emotion he’s shown since he saw you.

You nod. “I’m your soulmate.”

Your voice shakes as you say it. Somewhere along the past two years, you had worked up the perfect fantasy in your head. The one where he’d recognize you immediately, hug you tightly, and say how glad he was to see you after all this time. The one where he’d turn to Steve and thank him for keeping his promise, for finding you.

But in every single fantasy, you never predicted what he says next.

“I don’t have a soulmate,” he says firmly. “I don’t know who you are.”

Before you have time to let yourself be upset over that, Sam’s voice returns. “You guys better hurry up with whatever the hell you’re doing.”

“Shut it, Sam,” you bite back.

“I wasn’t in Vienna,” Bucky says, looking at Steve. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“I know you don’t,” you murmur, causing Bucky’s attention to shift back to you. “I know it wasn’t you.”

“What do you mean you know?” Bucky asks again.

“I told you,” you try to keep your voice even, but you can feel his lies. You don’t know why he’s lying. You know these circumstances aren’t ideal as a first meeting, but neither was D.C., and you still dealt with it. You’re not asking him to kiss you right now. You just want him to admit he recognizes your face. “My name is Y/N. I’m your soulmate. Steve is your best friend. You made him promise that he’d find me, and he did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Again, Sam interrupts the conversation. “They’re entering the building.”

“Got it,” you reply. Now isn’t the time to talk to Bucky about this. You can be upset with him for lying later -- and figure out why he’s lying, too. Not right now, though.

“Listen, the people who think you were in Vienna are coming now,” Steve gets the conversation back on track. “They’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart,” Bucky replies without hesitation. You feel it in your chest. His acceptance. “Good strategy.”

“I’m not letting you die,” you hiss, nearly adding you son of a bitch at the end.

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised,” Sam’s frantic voice comes through the radio.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck,” Steve says, near pleading.

You listen to the footsteps circling all around, your hand already pulling out your gun.

Bucky slips off his gloves, revealing his metal hand. “It always ends in a fight.”

“Five seconds.”

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, seeing shadows outside. You’re caged in. “Goddamn it.”

“You pulled me from the river!” Steve argues. “Why?”

Bucky’s answer is full of lies. “I don’t know.”

“Three seconds.”

“Yes, you do,” Steve counters, clearly as fed up as you, but there’s no time left to argue.

Your heart is pounding, and despite Bucky’s insistence that he doesn’t know who you are, you still don’t feel so panicked that you want to shut down. You’re ready for the fight. Especially if it’s for him.

“Breach! Breach! Breach! Get the hell out of there!”

Grenades launch through the windows. You smack one right back out the shattered glass with the side of your gun, hearing it explode midair. Steve hits another with his shield. Bucky kicks the last over to Steve who covers it just in time, controlling the blast.

Bucky grabs you by the shoulders and wrenches you away from the window, just in time to miss a gunshot. His wide eyes stare down at you, almost like his reaction was involuntary. You’re grateful nonetheless, but there’s no time for exchanging thank yous.

You turn and kick the table, the added support from Bucky’s arm sending it flying and blocking the door.

Men swing in through the broken windows, firing rounds as fast as their weapons will let them. Bucky handles one, watching in bewilderment as you handle the other. Yours is knocked out cold in seconds thanks to Steve’s shield.

Another comes in through the back door that Steve takes care of, but not before Bucky starts trying to run, shoving the guy out onto the roof.

“Buck, stop!” Steve pulls him backwards by his arm. “You’re gonna kill someone!”

In such a quick movement that it makes you gasp, Bucky has Steve pinned to the floor. He punches the floorboard directly next to Steve’s head, pulling out a backpack.

He’s been planning for this day. Probably since the first day he moved in. Ready to run. Your other dream makes sense now. In it, you’re always chasing after him, but in an open field. It always ends the same, with him catching you in his arms. But you know reality won’t play out that way.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky says, looking up at you, for what reason you aren’t sure. He tosses the backpack out the door without looking.

“What the hell?” You say, mostly to yourself.

Another guard comes through the window, and once again, Bucky grabs you and hauls you over to him. This time he holds you into his chest, using his metal arm to block the bullets before Steve covers you both with the shield. Too much is happening for you to register the way he’s protecting you again, but he stops doing it before you can even blink.

Bucky sends Steve flying out the window on top of one of the men.

You give him a look and yell, “Seriously?!” but you’re cut off when his eyes widen, catching sight of the other gunman coming inside.

Bucky shoves you behind him, using his metal hand to block the bullets until he can knock the guy down. You kick the other in the chest, and Bucky finishes the job with a cinderblock.

“Damn,” you mutter, your train of thought ending when a gun outside the door begins shooting the hinges. “Fuck!”

Bucky moves you behind him again, his arm steadying you when he realizes he pushed you a little too hard. His eyes are apologetic, but given everything he’s said to you, you think you might be fantasizing again.

Bucky shoves the door forward when they try to break it down, effectively taking down three guards with it. He shields you once again when a man breaks through the ceiling, firing at Bucky.

“If you don’t know me, then why the fuck are you protecting me!” You yell, shoving Bucky away angrily. He barely moves, but it’s enough for you to start firing at some of the guards. Not headshots, because you aren’t that cruel, but enough to slow them down.

Bucky ignores your question and grabs onto the man still hanging from the ceiling, using him to swing down. He looks back up at you, almost remorseful, but you glare at him.

Steve returns in time to crush one of the radios a man was using to give information on Bucky’s whereabouts. He grabs you around the waist and jumps down to Bucky’s level.

You elbow the guy in the back of the neck as hard as you can, and Bucky’s expression is grateful.

You must be seeing things.

Guards are flung in every direction. Steve catches one from falling all the way to the bottom, giving Bucky a stern look as he throws the man back into the wall. You almost laugh at Steve’s “Come on, man.”

While you’re busy fighting and firing, Bucky jumps down the middle of the damn stairwell like an idiot. You hear him scream when he catches his arm on one of the railings, pulling himself up to the floor.

You kick another guard in the chest, knocking him out cold when his head connects to the concrete wall.

You run down the steps as fast as you can, narrowly avoiding shots and firing some of your own over your shoulder. You reach Bucky’s floor just in time to see him jumping from the window.

“Son of a bitch,” you curse. Heights are not your thing. They’ve never been your thing. And Bucky just jumped who knows how many stories down to the roof of the adjacent building.

Guards are closing in on you. Steve is occupied with another group. You don’t have any other option.

“Oh, fuck it,” you cuss, running forward, giving yourself no time to think about it before you jump.

Your legs flail as you soar through the air. You search the roof of the building down below and see Bucky’s backpack, but you don’t see him.

“Shit!” Your feet barely connect with the side of the roof before Bucky is catching you, rolling with you in his arms, but careful not to crush you with his weight.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yells, shoving you off of him.

“Are you out of yours?” You fire back with just as much venom, elbowing him in the ribs. “Why do you keep protecting me? I thought you didn’t know me, huh?”

“I don’t,” Bucky grits out, grabbing his backpack.

From above you see a shadow. With what feels like natural instincts, you tackle Bucky to the ground, resulting in a very pissed off look, until he sees what just landed on the roof.

“A cat?” You mutter. “What the fuck is going on?” You raise your gun and fire, but the bullet ricochets. “A bulletproof cat. Great.”

Bucky growls and throws you off of him. “Stay behind me,” he orders.

“Fuck off,” you hiss.

Yet another fight begins.

Whoever the person is, they aren’t interested in you at all. Their focus is entirely on Bucky, which leaves you hiding behind some sort of pipe system while you wait for Sam or Steve.

“Southwest rooftop,” you say through the radio. “Bucky’s fighting some...cat.”

“Cat?” Sam calls back. “What the hell?”

“About to find out,” Steve mutters, and seconds later you feel his bodyweight thud onto the roof.

But then, as if there isn’t enough going on, a helicopter comes overhead.

“For fuck’s sake,” you groan, staying crouched and firing up at the copter’s tail rotors. “Sam? Little help?”

“Got him,” he replies, and a few seconds later, the helicopter is literally kicked out of the way.

You straighten and keep firing, worsening the damage, but unfortunately not enough to knock it out of the sky. Bucky manages to throw the cat off of him, giving him enough time to do more jumping, which only makes you more pissed off with him.

Does he just love parkour or something?

“He jumped, Steve.” You start running toward the edge and Steve joins you a second later. “Are we?”

Steve nods. “Hang on,” he says, grabbing you around the waist again before he jumps from the roof.

You squeeze your eyes shut, only opening them when you feel the two of you hit the ground.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the two of you break into a sprint.

“Fine,” you mutter, seeing Bucky up ahead, but then, just like that, he disappears, having jumped again. “I’m not cut out for this!” You scream, holding onto Steve again as you both sail down onto the busy street below.

Running like it’s the only thing you know how to do, you mentally punch Bucky in the face a thousand times for acting the way he is. How can he protect you one moment and swear he doesn’t know you in the next? Talk about hypocrisy.

You follow behind Steve, swerving to avoid hitting cars as you run after Bucky.

“Stand down!” The police yell through the speakers on their car, the sirens only adding to your stimulation and pissing you off further. “Stand down!”

“Ready when you are,” you say, nodding to Steve.

The two of you split up. Steve crashes into the windshield of the car and it screeches to a stop. Wrenching the door open, you shove the driver out, hopping in and locking the doors. Steve punches the rest of the windshield out of the way before sliding in, and you literally floor it.

Weaving in and out of the cars, you smack the sirens off in annoyance. This is not how you saw yourself spending today. Or how you saw seeing Bucky again turning out. This is ridiculous.

And the fucking cat. Who the hell even is that?

Speak of the devil, he latches himself onto the back of the car.

“Seriously?” You mutter, swerving as best you can, but it’s hard in a tunnel, and you’re not trying to cause any wrecks with innocent citizens.

“Sam, we can’t shake this guy,” Steve calls out.

“Right behind you.”

But you don’t know how far behind he is, so you start some more counter measures when you see more police cars speeding up next to you. Even slamming the car into the others doesn’t knock the cat off, and now you’re pissed.

Up ahead, police are coming at you from the other direction. You spot Bucky jumping to the other side, and upon realizing the only thing blocking it is barrels, you swerve and take the same route.

Bucky loses time when he steals a motorcycle, giving you enough time to catch up to him, but the goddamn cat is still on the back of your car. And you’ll be damned if that guy gets to Bucky first.

Somehow, the cat manages to crawl over the car and attempt to latch onto Bucky, but Bucky fights him off just enough before Sam swoops in and grabs him — finally.

But the cat puts up a fight, nearly dragging Sam down. An explosion happens ahead, caused by Bucky, no doubt, and you see Sam fling the cat directly into it.

It isn’t enough.

With the rubble everywhere, you can’t drive anymore, so you and Steve abandon the car, jumping over large chunks of concrete. Steve speeds ahead, tackling the cat and pulling him away from literally clawing Bucky’s eyes out.

Bucky seems more pissed than pleased to see you, not that you can be bothered to care right now.

Steve holds his shield, keeping the cat away from Bucky. Sirens wail and close in on all of you. Bucky, much to your annoyance, steps forward to put his body in front of you, his metal arm crossing over your body in protection. The action would warm your heart had you not just jumped off buildings for him.

A silver Iron Man suit appears from the sky, landing in front of all of you, both hands raised and ready to fire. “Stand down. Now.”

Steve puts his shield away and raises his hands. You do the same, dropping your gun to the floor. They’re probably going to take it anyway.

“Congratulations, Cap, Y/N. You’re criminals.”

“Who the hell are you?” You ask.

You don’t get an answer before men are storming forward and practically throwing Bucky to his knees. You’re shoved away by one of them and you hiss when your arms are wrenched behind your back. Bucky jerks himself out of their grasp, only to punch the guard that was rough with you. The guard lays unconscious on the ground with a broken, bloody nose, Bucky’s chest heaving as he’s shoved back to the ground.

You’re too stunned to resist arrest.

#i knew you #captain america: civil war #bucky barnes #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #angst city #cacw #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

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chyornaya-vdova · 3 years

Text

She's gone, come Over

A collab with panda365 aka @gammacousin

Tony's made a stupid Titkot Challenge on Pepper and wants Bruce to do the same to Natasha. Obviously Nat is not amused and Bruce has to fear for his life.

AO3 ff.net

Tony’s whining again, grumbling in the lab with puffy eyes and a scrappy blanket over his shoulder. He jumps when Banner enters the lab, the door slammed behind him.

“What’d you do? Pepper kicked you out?” Bruce asked, wondering what Tony's done to make Pepper that furious with him.

Tony tried to compose himself, but failed. “Uh nothing. Just a joke. She didn't take it that well…“ He mumbled, looking away from his science bro.

Bruce sighed and held the bridge of his nose. “What did you do?“ Sure, it wasn't the first time this happened, but Pepper sounded more angry than usual when it came to Tony's shenanigans. And he should know, he was an expert when it came to anger.

“You know the latest app all the kids are using?“ Tony explained with a flourishing hand gesture “I tried one of the trends out. Didn’t end well.”

“And?”

“Annnd I texted Pepper a minute after she walked out the door and said ‘okay she’s gone, you can come over now’. And I waited.“

Bruce sighed again, long and deep. He could already guess what happened next. What did Tony expect to happen? That she won't be furious and won't throw him out? He held his forehead and thought about what he should say. This was just too ridiculous.

“You know how her nose twitches when she’s mad?” Said Tony, before he could think of anything to say.

“No.” Was all he could say in that moment.

“Well! It was twitching!”

“Is that really important right now…?“ He mumbled, not getting out of the sighing circle anytime soon.

Tony was supposed to be smart and then he did something as stupid as this. When Bruce looked at his friend again, he knew something bad would happen soon. Tony had this weird look on his face. As if he had a stupid idea that'll bring them into lots of trouble.

“No.“ Said Bruce before Tony could vocalize out his idea.

“I haven't said anything.“

“I said no.“

“What if I dare you? I’ll make a bet!”

He'll regret asking, “What bet…?“

“I’ll give you $500 to put towards your new microscope if you try the trend on Natasha the next time she leaves.”

Banner scoffed and put on his lenses, ready to focus on working, “I don’t have a death wish, thanks anyways.”

“Dude! Bro! Come on…! You have to live-!“

“Yeah! I’d like to.”

“$700…$1,000…eternal bragging rights with the boys? It’s bad luck to keep telling me no.”

“Look, when the time comes where Nat needs to take me down, I don't want it to happen like this, okay?“ Bruce grumbled. As nice as it sounded to have a new microscope, his life was at risk. It's not the same when Pepper's mad. Yes, she was creepy when angry, but Bruce swore to never ever get on Nat's bad side. Ever. And he was quite sure once she 'killed' him, the other guy would be next.

Tony tapped at his knee, jaw twisted in thought. “I’ll bargain with Cap on the next mission! No Hulk. Period. You can science behind the tech screen while we kick butt. Deal?”

Bruce bit his lip so hard it almost bled. He groaned, tugging at his curls frustrated. Before he could answer he needed to look at his options. Would it be really worth it? “I guess it won't matter if I'm dead...”

“If you live it’s an amazing story.”

He whipped around and counted on his fingers. “No Hulk on the next mission, a brand new microscope, and $50,000 down on a new house for Nat and I.”

Tony was visibly cringing. “Shi-rrr. Sure. Dang you’re expensive upkeep! One condition- this is all recorded via the security tapes for my viewing pleasure later. Okay? Deal?“

He already knew why Tony wanted it recorded. “You're gonna put the footage on YouTube and this children’s app, aren’t you?“ He asked, sighing once again.

“Nooooo, of course not! Who do you think I am?“ A liar. That's what he was.

Bruce hesitated for a few more minutes, weighing all his options again. Maybe if he already had the house, she probably, hopefully would be less pissed? He was thinking about surprising her with it anyway, so why not use it as a method to prevent his imminent death. Bruce sighed. “Okay. Deal.“ He already regretted it...

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

Natasha suiting up for an errand always took twenty minutes. She’s lingering in the hallway and strapped on her gear and a knife in a secret holster.

She yelled with her short hair bouncing, “Bruce! I’m getting sandwiches for lunch, what do you want?”

“Is the salami going to threaten your life?”

He pointed to her holster.

She smirked, tugging her belt a little tighter and reached for the keys, “Not if I kill him first.”

“Where are you going?”

“Whatever I see first. Tony's paying of course.“ Said the redhead, as she held up Tony's credit that she kept stealing from him.

“How-? You’re going to get caught one of these days.”

“I’m a spy, Vrach.” And it's not like Tony made it difficult for her. It was easier than stealing a lolly from a baby.

Bruce rolls his eyes, looking her over with a thought. “Do you have your phone on you?”

She tapped her side. “Yep. Should I text you where I end up? Can you text me your order?”

Bruce smirked, already trying to hide his evil thoughts and the unhinged nerves that accompanied it. “Yep! Sounds great!”

Natasha made sure she had everything she needed, before kissing Bruce's cheek. “Okay, I'm off.“ Bruce gave her a little wave, as she left.

He bit his cheek and watched and waited. Maybe if he lingered a bit longer she’d be halfway to pick up their lunch. He’d have a full half hour to prepare for the explosion.

Or maybe Natasha would just laugh it off...find amusement in the prank. Heck, she lives with a bunch of guys. She’s used to this...right?

“R.I.P, me...” Bruce reached for the phone, tapped his messages and clicked her name. He typed quickly;

‘She just left. You can come over.’

As he hit the 'send' button he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Now he had to wait...

He stood and dropped his phone back onto the table and circled around to head to his private office. He lifted a hand to the door handle and heard the sound of screeching tires pulling back up to the tower. Someone was driving recklessly. Dangerous considering New York streets. He entered his office and swung the door lazily closed. It sprung back open and hit the wall, forcefully. Almost as loud as the screech that followed...almost.

“Robert Bruce Banner!”

He cringed and looked up, trying to play innocent. The green shade in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks did nothing to help the situation.

Natasha stood there, his phone in her hand with her pupils the size of full on quarters.

“What. The. Hell?!“

“Uh-”

He couldn’t get a word in. She was talking again. “Who’s ‘she’?! ‘She’ who?!”

“She uh.. “ he stuttered, English shipping his mind. “She you.”

Natasha lifted her eyebrows. “Me. So I left and you thought it would be a good idea to call over your, what, your other girlfriend?!”

“I don’t have another girlfriend-“

“Did you realize you were texting me?! Who were you trying to text?!“

“Well, uh...“

“Give me your phone!” She dropped her head and charged like a bull, searching his pockets like an unhinged rabid animal.

“Natasha!” He squirmed away, receiving a slap to his shoulder in the process. “Ow!”

She screamed, pivoting. She dropped her own device in her circle, scrambling to locate his device. “Where did you put it?!”

“Natasha!” He followed her down the hall, finding just the slightest amusement in her demeanor. If she wasn’t a trained killer, unraveling his significant other might have a bit of play to it.

She slammed her hand on the table and lifted his phone, her lip trembling as she went off in a mumbled Russian. Bruce would prefer the screaming to the whispers. He knew she could hurl a knife in his direction at any moment with just the flick of her wrist.

“Betty?! Were you trying to text Betty?! You texted Betty, didn't you?!”

He looked at her, softly and kindly, trying to take a seat at the table she was hunched over at, frantic with his phone in her hand.

“Hey, honey-“

“Don’t you honey me! You’ll answer the damn question!”

“Okay, okay!” He lifted his hands in surrender. “Easy! Just take it easy.”

…there’s the knife. An inch away from his throat. Natasha held her frown, immovable in her position. “Answer. The. Question.“ She growled at him and it was pretty frightening.

“I will. I will. Let's talk, okay?” He managed to squeak out.

Romanoff glared at him for a few more seconds, before tucking her blade and hurled it at the wall, shattering a glass in the process. She forced a grin and dropped his phone. “Okay, let’s talk…”

“It was a bet, Nat.“ he grinned nervously, “I didn’t, mean to-.“

“Tony? Was it Tony? It was Tony, wasn’t it.”

“Nat. We’re just talking.”

Natasha tugged her jacket in a huff, standing a bit straighter with her same intimidating eye contact. Her jaw was tight, no doubt grinding his heart against her molars.

“It was a prank- that’s it.“ He reassured her as honestly as possible.

Her head tilted, an eyebrow raised. It was crystal clear that she didn't believe a word he said. “Really. That’s it?”

“I might’ve. Well I might’ve...”

“Talk, Robert!”

“I made a bet! Alright? I made a bet with Tony.”

She crossed her arms, her death glare was still there. “With Tony.”

“With Tony…it was a big bet.”

“Did you gamble away a kidney?”

“No…just...listen-“

“I am listening!” She hissed impatiently. Yes, he understood, she just wanted him to get to the point.

He looked up, those bright puppy dog eyes she would like to tear out at that moment, “Without cutting me off?”

Natasha walked over to her knife, took it down with a huff, and sat back at the table with a boot on the chair. With her fingers running along the blade she nodded ever so slightly.

“I’m going to die...” He mumbled to himself.

She nodded again, still staring at the knife. “We'll see. I'll be the judge of that.“ Nat answered, who obviously heard his mumbling. It was true, though. His life was in her heavily armed hands. It's usually a good thing, but he's never been on the receiving end before...

He laid his hands on the table. “Alright. First of all, there is no other girlfriend. Just you. You’re my everything.”

Natasha snorted with sarcastic laughter, again not believing anything he said. “Listen! Please. I made a bet with Tony, for us. For you and me. He was being stupid, he wanted me to do something equally stupid, so I said I would if he gave me $50,000.”

Now she looked up from her knife with a raised eyebrow.

“For a house! Tasha! Put away the judgement for ten minutes, I swear you can cut me open when I’m done talking.“ He sighed and crossed his arms. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Natasha looked back down at the knife in her hands. A few seconds ticked by. A minute. A very long and agonizing minute. “And that...that’s worth giving me a heart attack?”

“Well, uh…“ It kinda was, since now they had the house, but he still feared for his life and half lied to her instead. “No. No it’s not. I'm sorry.”

“This wasn’t funny.“ She scolded. Of course she was right. He knew it from the beginning.

“It wasn't.“ He agreed immediately. “Forgive me?”

She kicked the chair in front of her, still glaring. “I need a ten foot radius for the next 48 hours.”

“Sooo, I’m not forgiven.”

“I’ll think about it.” She reached back for her keys. “You never told me what you wanted for lunch.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well if you’re going to-”

“No no. You’re going with me. You obviously need to be supervised since apparently you can’t behave when I’m not around.” She scolded as if he's a little kid.

“It was a stupid prank!”

“Stupidity has its consequences. Get in the car.” Natasha turned around to go outside, but he wasn't quite done with her.

“Nat?“ She stopped and just looked at him over her shoulder. “Let's hug it out?“

“Ten foot radius.“ She reminded him, but he wasn't having any of it. Bruce opened his arms and gave her his best puppy look. The redhead glared at him and they stood there for a few seconds. Then, she eventually gave up and came back to hug him. Bruce wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her as close as physically possible. “You're still not off the hook.“

“I know. You can punish me all you want. I deserve it.“

“You sure as hell do. You have five seconds left.“ Bruce listened as she counted from five downwards and only let go when she reached one.

“I love you, Nat.“ He said, but she answered with something he should've expected but honestly didn't in this situation.

“You're a dork.“ Natasha turned around to leave the room and on her way she waved at him to follow her, which he did.

“Well, I heard chicks dig that.” He couldn't help but reply, which earned him a slap on his arm, this time more gentle than before.

#fanfic #fanfiction #brutasha #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #marvel #mcu #tony stark #avengers

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Opia

Vampire!Shinsou x fem!reader

warnings: none yet. swearing. (Shinsou probably gets a little obsessive or possessive because of how vampires can be)

A/N: Oh boy here I got throwing a fic out here while I definitely have other shit I need to work on. I just love... vampires. Manipulation and bloodlust and shit. Can’t get better than a good ol’ fashioned vampire story in my book. I’m stoked. (This might have a little Kirishima action eventually. It might even have a little KamiSero action. I’m a mess and I love these boys)

Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.

Night One

Him.

You could feel all the molecules in your body vibrating—pulling you before your brain could even register that you were moving towards the center of the room where you first laid eyes on him.

He sat on the loveseat Kaminari got for fifty bucks at a garage sale and glanced up at you with mesmerizing, indigo irises that nearly glowed in stark contrast to the bruise-like shadows underneath his eyes. Ropes of wooden beaded necklaces hung off his neck and fell into a loose bastion shirt that exposed sharp, impressive collarbones. He looked like someone ripped out of time and placed at this musky party full of hormonal hoodrats and masculine menaces. He was a prince among men: pale, handsome, and perfect in a sort of haven’t-slept-in-one-hundred-years sort of way.

He raised one neatly cut eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching up when he caught you blushing after you realized you were staring, and at once, everything in your mind went blank aside from one simple command:

‘Come here.’

Your feet took two automatic steps towards the couch as you stared bashfully at the man smirking up at you. He spread his thighs apart, his long legs making it so there was no way you could comfortably sit next to him, but in that moment, you didn’t want to be next to him; his lap seemed a little too inviting and you wanted to be on top of him. You thought for a moment that after his hand slid over the top of his lap, you saw his ringed thumb tap down on himself. An invitation.

‘Closer.’

The voice inside your head dripped like honey: enticing, sweet, and irresistible. You could tell that your hands were sweaty when you reached up to nervously pull at your jacket strings. Your natural instincts were telling you to turn on your heel and leave, maybe even go home, but the voice flooded you with warmth and reassurance; it told you that you were not in any danger. And why would you be? You were at a party, surrounded by people, and all you were doing was approaching a cute boy sitting alone on a couch.

Your knees were now a hair away from purple-haired-couch-kid’s and you felt stupid for not being able to say anything to him, but the only thing your mind was telling you to do was to climb into his lap! You scrambled to recall the normal way people greet people, and it only got harder when the guy looked you up and down like you were something to be eaten.

You clutched down on your plastic cup and gulped harshly. “Hel-!”

“Looks like you could use more beer!” Came the friendly bark from Eijirou Kirishima, one of the kids who was renting a room in the house you were in. He tipped his bottle into your cup, filling it halfway full. He didn’t have any nasty intentions in doing so; Kirishima was just the kind of guy that would want to satiate a friend if he saw that they were thirsty.

“Thanks,” you said, cheeks burning as you took a step away from the couch-kid. You were a bit peeved by Kirishima’s interruption, but it wasn’t like there was anything to interrupt to begin with. You couldn’t choke out a simple ‘hello’ to the stranger.

Stealing a glance back down to him, you saw that the purple-haired guy didn’t look too pleased about Kirishima being there either. Kirishima didn’t seem to even notice him sitting there while he rolled an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, have you seen Sero?” Kirishima asked, walking you towards a wall where the two of you could better hear each other over the thumping music that shook beneath your toes.

“Um, yeah.” The last time you’d seen Hanta Sero, he was duct-taping another tenant, Denki Kaminari, to a rolling table so Kaminari could drink from a tap upside down. “He’s with Denki.”

Kirishima’s brows knitted together. “Behaving?”

“What do you think?” You laughed, resisting the urge to look over Kirishima’s shoulder to see the couch. You didn’t want to make it too obvious that your interests were somewhere else entirely. Kirishima was a good guy who deserved your attention.

“Aw, man… We’re really trying to keep this party tame. We don’t want the cops called on us again.”

Just then, a crash sounded in the backyard followed by the tinkling of shattered glass. Kirishima cursed under his breath and then covered his mouth, ashamed to be using foul language in front of you. You shook your head.

“You doin’ alright, Kiri?”

“‘m fine. Just a little stressed is all. Kaminari promised he’d be better at keeping order around here. I didn’t even wanna have a party. Well, no, that’s a lie, but-“

Another crash came from the room where Sero had Kaminari taped up. Hoots and guffaws told you that they thought that whatever they were breaking was a riot- the wincing Kirishima apparently thought otherwise.

“Do you need help?” You offered.

“No… I couldn’t ask you to do anything around here. It’s Kami’s job.”

“I’ll tell you what. Let me clean up outside and you can bring Denki out to see me doing his chores. I promise I can make myself look extra solemn over it, too.”

Kirishima pursed his lips, looking like a puppy with a treat dangling over his head. “You don’t… have to,” he sided unconvincingly.

You grinned. “Let me clean and in return, you can introduce me to the hottie with the purple hair.”

Kirishima scratched his head. “Jirou?”

You rolled your eyes and hit his shoulder. He snickered and bounded off into the other room.

After gathering a broom and dustpan, you made your way to the backyard, trying unsuccessfully to peek through the window to see if the purple-haired-couch-kid was still on the couch, but people filed into the house to see what all the ruckus Sero and Kaminari caused was about. You thought yourself stupid for thinking too hard about this random guy, but you found that the more his sleep-ridden eyes whirled around your head, the more you wanted to see them again. This rarely happened. You didn’t go to parties to hookup... anymore. Hell, you hardly ever went to parties at all anymore. You just wanted to see and catch up with a few friends, and from what you could tell, they were just as disastrous as usual. You weren’t counting on becoming so drawn to another human being, but it seemed as if you were beyond all help.

Kirishima towed Kaminari out to the back just as you were sweeping the last of the many glass shards that were strewn across the patio floor. You put on your very best going-out-of-my-way-because-I-care-for-you-not-because-I-want-to face, wiped theatrically at your forehead, and let out an over-dramatic sigh. Kaminari bought your act immediately.

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that!” The drunken blonde rushed to take the broom out of your hands and swept at nothing but dust. “I’m real sorry about this. Lemme clean the rest!”

Sero slumped behind Kirishima, throwing an arm around the redhead while he took a swig from his drink. He said, “she wouldn’t have to clean up messes for ya if you weren’t busy dicking around on the table.”

“You put me there!” Kaminari complained, as if he didn’t suggest that Sero tape him up in the first place.

“Excuses, excuses!” Sero tutted back and took another long gulp of his beer, emptying the bottle.

“He’s right,” Kirishima said to Sero, “you’re lucky I don’t throw both of your asses out on the street- I wouldn’t do that in the presence of an angel.” Kirishima sent you a wink.

You snorted. “I’m far from angelic. I’m exchanging hard labor for boys.”

Sero raised his bottle, a blush apparent on his cheeks. “I’m a boy.”

With his broom still in hand, Kaminari snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I, too, am a boy.”

Sero clicked his tongue.

Kirishima, your knight in shining armor, grabbed your hand and ushered you away from Kaminari’s advances. “And I am a man that happens to know that this lil’ lady has no interest in either of you numbskulls.”

“Ha!” Kaminari pointed a wobbly finger at Sero. “He called you a numbskull!”

“He called you a numbskull, too, jaggoff,” Sero muttered under his breath as you and Kirishima slid past him.

While Kirishima pulled you in through the thrum of partygoers, you could feel your pulse quicken in anticipation. It was a ludicrous concept—getting this excited about seeing a guy who you didn’t even know never made you this anxious in the past, but there was something about the way he looked at you. It was like he wanted you, but he wanted… more than what you could offer, too. The thought made you want to give everything to him. What in the raging hell was wrong with you?

“C’mon, show me who you were talkin’ about,” Kirishima prompted, interrupting your train of thought. You were about to point at the kid on the couch, but when you saw him again, your heart fell.

There was a girl in front of him. By the look of her pretty, sleek-black hair, you could tell that it was something-something Kodai. You didn’t know her well, but you knew that guys found her hot. Hell, you thought she was, too, but in that moment, you couldn’t focus on how hot Yui Kodai was—you were all-consumed by a sharp, raging jealousy you didn’t think you’d ever experienced before.

Purple-haired-couch-kid peered up at her with disinterest, a good sign, but he had his hands on her hips, the worst sign! You felt your cheeks burn as you watched Yui sink into his lap, her hands pressed up against his ivory chest.

And then those indigo irises landed on you.

‘Too bad,’ that sultry voice drawled out in your head with mock-sympathy. ‘You snooze, you lose.’

When he pulled the back of Kodai’s hand to his lips, you had to force yourself to look away.

“You good?” Kirishima asked, not seeming to notice the two people getting a little too intimate in the middle of the room.

“Yeah. Fine,” you lied, not understanding why you had to lie to begin with. You couldn’t help the pessimism from crawling across your skin while you tried and failed not to think about how this whole scenario could have been avoided. You battled the concept that if you had just said hello to him from the start—

No. Screw that.

You had to think better for yourself. The thought of fighting for a guy’s attention was repulsive.

“You sure?” Kirishima frowned at you, and honestly, bless him. Most people wouldn’t be as attentive as he was.

“Yeah,” you assured, “I just decided that I didn’t wanna waste my night on boys.”

“Smart move,” Kirishima chuckled, once again throwing his arm around your shoulders. “And besides, who needs boys when you’re in the presence of a man?”

“You’re right-“ you leaned into him. “Who needs ‘em?”

‘Need and want can be vastly dissimilar concepts.’

That loquacious purring reverberated inside your head had your skin prickling. You fought the urge to turn back to him with Yui Kodai sitting in his lap. You weren’t so much of a voyeur as you were strictly curious... or burning with envy. Who’s to say you weren’t just some rapidly jealous pervert? You hummed and Kirishima took that as an invitation to slip his hand down to the small of your back.

‘He’s not who you want.’

Kirishima’s cheeks were dusted in pink when you looked up to him. He grinned, covered his sharp teeth, looked away, and looked back at you. He was sweet, handsome, and you always enjoyed hanging around him, but you were clouded with guilt. You didn’t want to be around him at the moment. You didn’t want to be around anybody, really.

‘To be fair, I don’t want this little lady, either. Her aroma is very… plain.’

The voice was getting too weird to ignore. This wasn’t just your long-repressed, touch-starved imagination. This wasn’t you at all. It was him. It had to be him.

‘But we all must endure some more unpalatable necessities to survive, right?’

No, no, that was crazy. Throwing your dignity out the window, you decided to look back—just for a moment—just to see him. Once you could get over your sudden and assertive heartache and move on, you’d be cured of your swiftly acclimating insanity.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because the moment you turned to face Kaminari’s ugly garage sale couch was the moment you saw purple-haired-couch-kid bite into Yui Kodai’s wrist.

Night Two

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha@rizamendoza1987, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten@captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#bnha x reader #vampire au #vampire!shinsou #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #vampire x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #i shouldnt be starting something new lmap but GOT TO #bnha yandere #yandere bnha #yandere male #LMAO*#opia

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taeminyourmind · 4 years

Text

Without You x Taemin (A)

Genre: Angst

Summary: Months after breaking up, you and Taemin find yourselves in a vicious cycle of unhealthy habits to cope with the pain. When Taemin’s group mates convince you to talk to him, you and he talk about the cause of the breakup and receive closure after months of pain.

Warning!!: Unhealthy habits include alcohol and sex

Pairing: Taemin x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k+

* Requested

A/N: This story contains mature themes. Reader discretion is advised. This story is PURELY FICTION and DO NOT represent any of the characters in any way, shape or form.

Taemin’s right hand delicately places a lit cigarette between his lips while the other deathly grips the neck of his alcohol bottle. He inhales deeply while reaching forward to pick up a crumpled piece of paper from the table in front of him. His trembling fingers remove the cigarette that he’s smoked to almost its entirety and put it out in an ashtray.

As the smoke clears from his vision he feels a pierce in his heart as his eyes skim the handwritten contents of the letter. He’s stuck in a deadly cycle of reading the letter and drinking his pain away, reading the letter, and drinking the pain away, he can’t find the strength within himself to stop.

He torments himself with curses for being the reason the one he loves has been in pain. The complexity of being unapologetic and apologetic clashes in his mind, causing him to take an aggressive swig of alcohol and allow his throat to burn as punishment. Maybe if he listened to you and you didn’t give up on him, you would be together instead of miles apart, comforting yourselves with harm to lessen the pain of this breakup.

Where alcohol is Taemin’s friend during this time, sex is yours. To be held and paid attention to, even if it’s by a stranger, eases your pain. When that pain returns, you return to the bar or club, giving flirtatious hints to the men that buy you drinks, and whoever is first to leave with you earns the prize. Your flesh sticks against theirs, your hands explore the curves of each other’s bodies, and your moans mix together to create a foreign feeling of dissatisfaction. You try to imagine Taemin is there, touching you, wanting you, and needing you, but they’re not him. It’s a vicious cycle you can’t stop, you’re looking for Taemin in everyone but him.

Taemin finds the strength to walk into the hallway, holding onto the wall for support until his legs become weak and he slides down the wall. His body begins to feel numb, succumbing to the pain that’s been suffocating him the past months.

“Shit,” he whispers, barely audible to himself. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes another swig and twists his face at the burn.

But the burn doesn’t stop him when your face appears in his mind, making him chug the rest of the bottle. To him, he’s drowning the memory of you, but amidst everything, he wants you more. He needs you, wants you, hates you, but loves you more. These complicated feelings punched him in the gut until he crawled to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet.

His hands grip each side of the toilet as he violently coughs and heaves. A distressed cry for help escapes him, shaking his core until he wears himself out. Shakily, he flushes the toilet and splashes cold water on his face. He steadies himself and walks towards the living room when something catches his eye. He blinks slowly until his vision comes together and he recognizes the framed picture of you smiling back at him. In his mind, your picture is taunting him to destroy himself more.

Without thinking, he reaches out until his fingers firmly grip the wooden frame and send it crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass is followed by a muffled yelp throughout the hallway. A sharp pain throbs on the sole of his foot causes him to stumble backward until his back hits the wall. Small traces of blood follow behind him as he limps to the bathroom.

“Still hurting me even when you’re not here,” he thinks to himself while sitting on the side of the tub.

He struggles to steady his trembling hand as he uses the tweezers to remove the piece of glass. The sting from rubbing alcohol makes him bite his lower lip and whimper in pain. Tired with numbness and pain, he slowly eases his way into the tub and tosses until he drifts to sleep.

The club’s bass travels through the room until it beats in your chest. Above, the disco lights give personality to the room of dancers in flashy outfits. But you didn’t come to dance the night away or shake the stress from the week away, you’re here to rid yourself of the pain lurking in the back of your mind. Your eyes stay focused on the bottle of beer in front of you until a brightly colored drink appears in front of you.

You follow the hand that placed the drink in front of you and find a young man smiling down at you. Dressed in a Gucci silk dress shirt that’s half unbuttoned to reveal the contours of his chest, the young man sits beside and holds his drink up as if to toast.

“It’s a cosmopolitan,” he says. Unable to hear over the blasting music, you twist your face in confusion. He leans in closer until he’s inches from your face, the scent of wintermint on his breath. “It’s a cosmopolitan!”

“Ah,” you nod while holding the glass and clinking it against his. “Thank you.”

“I’m Jongin,” he says while sticking out his hand.

Staring at his hand, you can’t help but smile at his kind gesture as you shake his hand. “___.”

“Nice to meet you, ___. What are you doing here all alone?”

Taking a sip from the glass, you look at Jongin out the side of your eye and watch his eyes look over you in curiosity. An image of Taemin appears before you, causing you to take another gulp in hopes Jongin will forget the question.

“Breakup?” He asks while playing with the condensation of his glass. When you look over at him to ask if he knew, he shrugs. “That’s how I looked when I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“I guess we’re both in need of company.”

Everything that happens next comes as a blur as you allow yourself to ride your vicious cycle again. With each stroke Jongin presses into you, you close your eyes and imagine Taemin on top of you - his tender kisses, the softness of his touch, his sensual moans and groans, right now, Jongin was Taemin. No matter how you hold onto Jongin’s body while he pounds onto you, you can’t seem to hold onto him right, your fingers accustomed to the memory of Taemin’s body. No matter how pleasant Jongin’s kisses are, the taste of Taemin’s lips stays on your tongue. No matter how much you wanted to enjoy this session with Jongin, you couldn’t allow yourself to forget Taemin. With your pleas to go faster, Jongin complies until you both reach your end and you find yourself drifting to sleep in the arms of yet another stranger.

Sunlight seeps its ways through the gaps of the blinds with some of the rays resting on Taemin’s face. The light hitting his face stirs him awake. Too weak to move, he stares at the ceiling with the thought of your letter swirling in his mind once again. From the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep, you were on his mind. He hates that he can’t shake you, like a tape stuck to a finger, but at the same time he doesn’t mind. At the end of the day, your face keeps him wanting to wake up every day.

Taemin grips the side of the tub and slowly eases himself out and steadies himself. The sound of the doorbell sounds in the middle of him brushing his teeth. An annoyed grunt rumbles from his core as he walks towards the front door with his toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth.

“What is it?” He asks annoyed before snatching the door open. His eyes grow wide when he sees you standing on the other side. “___?”

“Hi Taemin,” you softly smile. “Can I come in?”

Immediately stepping to the side, Taemin opens the door wider, allowing you access inside. Stepping over the threshold, a flood of memories flash before your eyes as you walk inside and look around. You can’t help but smile at the apartment’s familiarity until you see the empty bottles of alcohol and a broken framed picture of you still lying in the hallway.

“Why are you here, ___? Wasn’t your love letter enough?” Taemin sarcastically asks while standing beside you. “Or did they ask you to come?”

“They’re worried about you,” you say while walking to the dining table and looking at the numerous empty alcohol bottles on the table. “And so am I.”

Taemin scoffs and snatches a bottle from your hand, causing you to jump back. “Now you’re worried about me?”

“You’re not the only one having a hard time,” you mumble while looking at the destroyed picture of you on the floor. You look at Taemin’s back with tears welling in your eyes. “They say you haven’t been showing up to practice.”

“Kind of hard when you can barely hold yourself together.”

Taemin pops open a bottle of beer and takes a swig. Sadness plagues your heart while you watch the way he hungrily drinks the liquor, his Adam's apples bobbing with each gulp. Sighing in frustration, you glide towards the boy and take the bottle from his hand, some of the beer spilling from his lips and onto his shirt. He glances up at you with eyes of anger and sorrow before using his hand to wipe his shirt.

“You barely drank when we were -” You trail off when the sadness of Taemin’s eyes meet yours. Whatever you were going to say faded from your mind. Instead, you reach behind Taemin and pour the rest of the bottle into the sink. “I think you have a problem Tae.”

“Don’t,” Taemin hisses through clenched teeth while holding his palm out to you. “Don’t call me Tae. You don’t get to call me that.”

Taemin shoves past you to grab a broom and angrily sweeps the pieces of broken glass into the pan. A reflection of his heart, Taemin blinks back his tears while you slowly approach him. You hesitate to reach a hand out to him, but at the sudden shudders of his shoulders, you place a gentle hand on the middle of his back. His muscles tense under your touch, as if to tell you to leave. Refusing to leave his side, you engulf him in an embrace. The moment your arms wrap around him, he turns towards you and sinks to the floor. Your body follows him and holds him close as he clings onto you while sobbing into your shirt.

“It’s okay,” you whisper into his hair while resting your cheek on top of his head. Though you try to be comforting, your voice quivers as you fight back the tears stinging your eyes. “We’ll get through this together.”

The awkward silence tightens its grip around your neck. Each breath you take feels amplified in the silence.

“You can breathe,” Taemin says with a slight chuckle, his fingers playing with a loose string on his shirt.

“I am breathing.”

“You always hold your breath when you feel like people can hear you breathe.”

“Huh,” you say while exhaling deeply. “I never noticed.”

“I always noticed.”

Taemin diverts his attention to you and gives you a weak smile before focusing on the wall in front of you. You stretch your legs in front of you and allow the silence to still your nerves. Out of sync but meshing together, your breaths complement one another.

“Did you stop loving me?” Taemin asks. Looking at him, he keeps his eyes focused on the wall.

“I never stopped loving you.”

“Then why did you leave me?” You remain silent, hanging your head in guilt as Taemin speaks again with a quivering voice. “___, please say something.”

2 Months Earlier

The TV provides the only light source in the house as you sit on the couch, staring into the screen while you click through the channels. Every now and then your eyes drift towards the clock and watch the hours pass. Each new hour brings out a sigh of frustration.

You pick up your phone and hover your finger over Taemin’s name. You chew on your lip while contemplating if you should call again and risk getting met with his voicemail. The hesitation sets in as you opt to scroll through your Instagram feed. You mindlessly scroll through photos and videos of family and friends, it isn’t until the explore page when you furrow your brows and sit straighter.

Photos of Taemin with Naeun at her celebrity-filled birthday party invade the page. Your heart pounds in your chest as you quickly scroll through the posts. A voice in your head repeats a number over and over, the number of times he’s placed you last on his list of priorities. The same voice reminds you that you’ll never be first, he’ll never keep his promise of showing you to the world, you’ll never be his priority - it was work, fans, and then you. You would always be last.

Your throat burns as you hold back from sobbing. Pushing your shame to the side, you call Taemin and wait through each ring, each more antagonizing than the last.

“Hello?” Taemin answers loudly while music blasts in the background. “___?”

“Where are you?” You ask, acting as if you were clueless.

There’s a pause and you can hear the music fade until it’s nonexistent.

“Taemin,” you begin before he has a chance to answer. “You were supposed to meet me tonight at my friend’s dinner. Remember?”

You hear him curse under his breath and you can imagine him angrily running his hand through his hands like he always does when he’s frustrated. You stand to your feet and pace the room, waiting for him to say anything.

“Shit, I forgot.”

“That’s all you can say?”

“What else do you want me to say, ___?” He asks in an irritated tone.

“What about ‘I’m sorry’? Taemin, you made a promise to me you would be there. This was supposed to be the first step to announcing our relationship.”

There’s a silence that’s shattered with a huff from his end. Your face burns at the thought of him being frustrated over a promise he didn’t keep.

“Don’t you think I know that?” He harshly says with clenched teeth. “I got tied up with work stuff. I couldn’t necessarily say I couldn’t come and look like the asshole in front of my peers.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” you spat while your grip on your phone gets tighter. “You make time for everything else. We cut our time together short so you can practice, write songs, and whatever it is you do. When it comes to me, you have no problem making cutting things short or saying you can’t do something and I don’t argue. But when it comes to work and your peers, you can’t cut things short or say no, even when you overwork yourself. It’s not fair, Taemin. I don’t want to be your secret anymore, I don’t want to be last in your life anymore.”

“___,” he sighs before an inaudible voice steals his attention away. He converses back and forth with it before returning to you. “Can we talk when I get home?”

“Goodnight, Taemin.” You sigh before hanging up.

You allow yourself permission to let the tears that have been welling in your eyes to fall. Three years - three years of being his girlfriend and secret. And for the past year, he’s promised multiple times to announce your relationship to the world, and each promise ended up broken resulting in arguments full of yelling and tears. This see-saw of emotions has drained you of the enthusiasm you once had for life and him. Now, you find yourself tiptoeing around him to not set him off and pushing your health to the side for his. But this time, you would put yourself first.

With your suitcase waiting for you by the front door, you placed a tear-stained letter on the kitchen table, its contents highlighting the end of the relationship and well wishes. When he returns in the wee hours of the morning, you will be gone, ready to free yourself from suffocation and disappointment.

The memory brings tears to your eyes. Quickly wiping them away you take a deep breath and turn towards Taemin who leans back slightly when he sees your glossy eyes.

“I was always last in your life,” you say while looking upward to keep from crying. “I wanted nothing but to be your girl, to be yours. I knew it would come at a cost, but I never expected it to be that painful. When we were friends, you were always there, but when we were together, you were nowhere to be found. I wanted to share you with the world, but even after three years, you didn’t want to share me. I...I had to break up with you to save myself.”

Taemin remains quiet and watches you blink away your tears. Your sadness feels like a punch in the gut. Knowing he’s caused you heartache at the expense of his work brings tears to his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it when you speak up again.

“But I wasn’t healthy for you either.”

“That’s not true,” he protests.

“You don’t have to lie, Taemin.” You look over to the boy whose face relaxes. “You can say it.”

He pauses for a moment and deeply sighs. “My career is all I’ve known and it’s a part of me. If I were to be without it, I would feel empty. But I also wanted you. When I saw you begin to distance yourself from me, I just dedicated myself to my craft.”

“I distanced myself because you were getting so wrapped up work to the point that I felt unwanted.”

Taemin slowly stretches out his fingers until they lightly lay on top of yours. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

You glance down at his fingers before looking at his face. A weak smile appears on your face as you gently squeeze his fingers. “I’m sorry for not being more understanding and leaving like that.”

Resting your head on the wall, you and Taemin exchange a brief smile. Your heart controls your actions like a puppet as you move closer to his body and wrap your arms around him. His arms slowly snake around your waist, giving it a gentle squeeze while placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. His touch makes you lean into him more to fill the void that’s been slowly consuming you.

“You haven’t been eating,” you whisper as you allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. “You’ve been living off of alcohol, haven’t you?”

“How do you know?”

“Taemin,” you say and pull away enough to see his face. “I’ve known you for how long? I think I know when something isn’t right.”

Taemin shamefully nods while his hands grip your shirt where your waist is, refusing to let you slip through his fingers. The coolness of your fingertips lifting his chin up sends chills down his spine. His eyes gaze into your warm eyes that invite him to shed all the shame.

“How about I go grocery shopping and then I can make us something to eat.”

Your suggestion brings a bright smile to his face as he eagerly nods. You can’t help but chuckle at his childlike behavior.

“Well, go clean yourself up and I’ll be back soon.”

Standing first, Taemin grabs your hands to help you to your feet. Inches away from each other, your heart pounds like it did when you had your first kiss. Nothing you say could drag your gaze away from his. Both of you lean forward, brazing yourselves to pressing your lips together - your hands grab onto his shirt to keep yourself steady while his hands rest on your hips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you place your forehead on his and slowly pull away. The sadness in both of your eyes makes it known that everything is moving too fast.

“I’ll be out before you’re back,” Taemin softly smiles before brushing past you and entering the bathroom.

Returning to the living area, you grab your jacket and place it over your body. Upon placing your phone in its pocket, a folded piece of paper brushes against fingers. Your eyebrows furrow as you bring it out to your view and slowly unfold it.

“‘Let’s not make this a one-time thing. Call me sometime. Xx Jongin (000) 111-2222’.” You whisper to yourself. Your eyes focus on Jongin’s name and feel yourself blush at the memory of last night's events.

You find yourself asking if you gave Jongin a fair chance since you were using him to fill the void left by Taemin. You tightly hold your lips together and look down the hallway to the bathroom door. Now that you’ve gotten closure with Taemin, was it fair to give Jongin a call or wait to see how things pan out with Taemin? Your heart is torn at the thought. You look from the door to the paper and back to the door.

Quickly, you leave the apartment with the piece of paper held tightly in your palm, crumbling it as you stuff it back in your pocket. On the way to the store, your mind keeps flipping between the pros and cons of Taemin and Jongin. A difficult decision clouds your mind of either picking up a story where it left off or start a new story.

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