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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests.

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched.

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for.

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

#ahs #ahs imagines #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #cordelia goode x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #lana winters #lana winters x reader #sally mckenna #sally mckenna x reader

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rodeoxqueen · 3 years

Text

Of Lacking Spectacle(s)-Vergil/Reader

Summary: Vergil is a lot of things. Vergil is the Dark Slayer, The Alpha and The Omega, and the eldest son of Sparda. Vergil is also….in need of glasses?

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive Ending, Gender-Neutral Reader, Dante Read The Lord Of The Flies, Inspired By Vergil’s Buddy Holly Glasses Mod

Read It On AO3

Thank you @drusoona for sending me the pictures of Vergil that inspired this. The title is a reference to Gus Dapperton’s song Of Lacking Spectacle.

-Rodeo

(Picture Credits: @drusoona)

Vergil was always so precise and capable, sensing demons from distances away and predicting attacks with pinpoint accuracy.

He was intense, his eyes purely focused on the task ahead of himself. A man of pure drive and prowess. And he was your man.

It came gradually, something he tried to ignore. A few sentences of blurred lines would quickly flicker back to clarity. A small pain that flashed behind his eyes after reading in a room too dark.

It didn’t look obvious to anyone. Even to his ever-doting beloved. He was the son of Sparda, a demon that surpassed Death multiple times. There was no way he could have failing vision. Impossible, he would scoff to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

This statement soon turned from ignorance to denial of a very real problem Vergil avoided showing. His always narrowed stare hid it quite well.

An anthill turned into a mountain he could no longer stamp down. And his beloved had already watched it build up for some time, waiting for the stubborn devil to say something about it.

Which he didn’t.

So when you were cooking some mac and cheese from a recipe you found from a friend who knew a friend who knew a friend who asked her son for the recipe, you decided to strike up the question.

“Vergil.”

“That is my name, yes,” Vergil said from the couch, enraptured in a new book you bought him. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Are you having vision problems?”

“Of course not.” Hand on your hip, you pointed your rue-covered spatula at him.

“Then why is your nose literally in that book?” Vergil used to always be found with his book at arms-length as he would silently recite the words.

He stilled. He quickly readjusted himself and coughed.

Jackpot.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me in front of my macaroni.” You threaten, stirring the pot. He sighs.

“My vision is just fine.” Vergil insists, squinting at the blurred words.

“Vergil, I think you have vision problems.”

“That’s foolishness.”

“Why so?”

“My father was a powerful demon, bad vision should not run in our family-”

“Didn’t your dad wear a monocle?”

His mouth dries and his eyes widen in realization. Oh god it was genetic. You have won the tirade and you puff your chest out.

“How about I take you to the eye doctor? I can call later and set up an appointment.” Vergil has closed the book and chosen instead to look at you.

The macaroni is boiling, a u-shaped pasta you are rather fond of. Your apron is speckled with flour and you twiddle the spoon in your hand.

“Come on, it’ll be super quick. Just read some letters off a wall.” You say as you add burrata into the cheese blend. Vergil always liked that kind of cheese.

When you went grocery shopping, he really thought you wouldn’t notice him taking more than three samples of it when no one was looking before walking off like a successful sample thief.

Upon the sound of a bag of his favorite cheese opening, Vergil got up. You smile. You go to offer him a bit before quickly snatching it away from his hand. He tuts at you.

“You can have some if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” You sigh.

“Eye doctor.”

“No need. I am fine.”

You turn to stir the pot of delicious pasta before going back to lecturing this stubborn devil.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been squinting more and having headaches.” You state. Vergil scolds himself, thinking he was much more hidden about his new problem.

He is quiet as he stares off into the pot of macaroni.

“Please? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You put your other hand on his cheek. He looks at you finally, ice-blue glaciers warming at your loving and concerned expression.

God, his mate was so soft. He pulls your non-occupied hand to his other cheek-

And snatches the bit of burrata out of your fingers with his mouth. You make an offended noise at his trickery.

“Very well.” He muses.

You call up a local eye doctor after a hearty bowl of mac and cheese.

Taking Vergil to the doctor was like taking a cat to the vet. He sat in the waiting room with his arms crossed and eyes intensely out-alphaing everyone in his general proximity.

When they finally call your names, the ice was broken and people finally felt safe to breathe in his absence.

The eye doctor guides Vergil to the examination room. Vergil does not like it already. Why would you do this to him?

He waits at the door, waiting for you to come in with him.

“Sir, this is more of a personal test.” You shrug and blow him a kiss as he is ushered into the room

“How long has it been since you’ve had an eye test?” The doctor asks, Vergil taking a seat with a strange contraption before him.

“I have never had an eye test.” Vergil declares. The doctor laughs and swings the phoropter down. Vergil flinches slightly.

“Whoa now. Just set your chin here and look into the eye holes. This isn’t some medieval torture device.” He growls at the humiliation before doing so.

A series of lenses swiping through and the repeating question “which one looks clearer” later, Vergil is liberated from the examination room. He is greeted to you sitting and waiting for him.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” You ask. Vergil nods. You turn to the doctor.

“So how is his vision?” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Well, the letter Z was on the board and I asked him what he saw and he said triangle.” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Your husband is in dire need of glasses.” Vergil raises an eyebrow at that statement.

Your husband, he likes that. You don’t even correct him.

Luckily, this clinic also sold frames and Vergil is able to pick out a few while you do the paperwork.

You remember Vergil has no taste and quickly go to help him.

“No, no, well maybe, no, ew.” You respond as Vergil swaps various frames about.

“My love, I simply need the lenses. These materials mean nothing.” He argues as you deny the tenth pair of frames.

“Well, you’re very handsome and I’d like you to get a nice pair that matches.” You say. You go to make a smug face at him when you realize he has finally walked away to pick out his own.

You immediately drop the frames you were holding when Vergil places a certain pair of thick black-colored glasses upon his nose.

“We’ll take them.”

Several weeks later, Vergil is bestowed his new reading glasses. He finds his problem vanishes quickly and he can now read at a decent distance away. You seem to greatly appreciate them. Strange. On jobs, he usually takes them off and stores them in the little case he was given.

He thought of it as weakness. If his own body was failing to maintain 20/20 vision, he should be ashamed. In the demon world, any bit of weakness meant imminent death.

Yet, he told himself he wasn’t in Hell anymore. He was having breakfast with his beloved and he was safe. And he was privileged to be allowed for his body to take a break and age as it should have, his vision waning as a normal man would have at his age.

You kiss him goodbye for another day of work and you push his glasses up as they tip slightly down. His nose does the little scrunch you love so much. So much, you kiss him on the bridge of the nose. He purrs and promptly cuts a portal to work.

He walks into Devil May Cry to work with his brother. Dante is upstairs, the sounds of a shower happening.

Vergil takes to the paperwork his brother has ditched doing once more, typing on a clunky keyboard. You had insisted to pay extra for blue-light protection and he finds it is so much easier to see the computer screen.

Finally, the water is shut off. His idiot brother is done wasting work hours. Well, when is he not?

Vergil continues looking through yellowed documents as Dante passes by, smelling like strawberry soap marketed for children.

Dante walks forward but then puts himself in reverse to see Vergil with glasses on again.

“Yes?” Vergil grits his teeth.

“Those are glasses.” Dante starts.

“Yes, yes they are.”

Dante snorts and points at him.

“Buddy Holly looking ass bitch.” Vergil stops and glares at his brother.

“I don’t even know who that is.”

Dante wheezes at he keeps looking at Vergil.

“Of course you don’t, you bag of bones! You look like a college RA.”

“Dante, get to work-”

“What are you going to do? Tell the dean on me? Is that why you were gone a couple weeks ago?”

“I had an appointment-”

“I hAd aN aPpOiNtMeNt.” Dante mocks.

“That’s rich coming from someone without insurance coverage-”

His spectacles are snatched from his face. Dante puts them on.

“How do you see with these on? Damn, you’re legally blind.”

“That’s why they’re mine-hand them over!”

“You sound like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. My specs! My specs!” Dante mocks in a terrible English accent.

Vergil growls in anger.

When Vergil comes home with his glasses off, you wonder why. The blue devil comes behind you while you make some soup, hands on your waist and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

He’s quiet and in a way that is not his usual silence. He seems to have something on his mind. This time, you choose not to push it and let him be.

It isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lamp on as Vergil goes to take out a new novel. He hesitates when he reaches for his black glasses.

“My love?”

“Yes, Vergil?”

“Who’s Buddy Holly?”

Weird question but okay.

You search up the name on your phone and show him a picture. He puts on his glasses.

“Why would Dante think I look like that?” He asks himself with a frown. Upon realization, you put your hand on your mouth and fight back a laugh.

“Did Dante say that?” Vergil rolls his eyes.

“Of course he did, amongst other things.”

“Well, I think you look very nice. Like a very sexy college professor.” Vergil smugly looks at your bedroom eyes. The novel is long abandoned on the table.

Before he can pounce on you, he goes to take off his spectacles. You snatch them and place them back on his face.

“Keep them on this time.” You bite your bottom lip teasingly.

Vergil purrs.

He might get used to this.

[More Photos Of Vergil’s Mod-Credited To @drusoona]

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda #vergil imagines #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry imagine #dmc vergil #vergil #fluff #devil may cry #devil may cry vergil #gender neutral reader #rodeo used butcherknives' recipe for this fic #rodeo is lactose intolerant and a bite of mac and cheese will vibe check her straight to hell #drusoona's pictures

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mirrorsandpacts · 4 years

Text

When You Try To Plan A Surprise For The Brothers (Or Something Like That)

Belphegor-

You had the intention of pulling a small prank on the lovely Avator of Sloth. It would be innocent— just a small scare! Nothing less, nothing more. You quietly made your way up to the attic, Belphie’s favorite napping spot. He wasn’t there— perfect.

You hid under the sheets between the multiple pillows he owned. You weren’t exactly sure on when he would get there, but he never failed to visit the place once a day, as this was really the only place he could sleep peacefully, if he wasn’t already there in the first place.

So you wait.

And wait.

…And wait.

10 minutes became half an hour. Half an hour became 2 hours and so forth. Eventually, you had to get out of the attic before the brothers ripped apart the house to find you. On the way to the exit, you tripped over something or someone.

When you looked down to see what it was— viola! It was the lovely Belphegor!

What the actual f—?

He fell asleep in the hallway!!!

“Belphie...Get up!” You said as you tried to shake him awake.

“Mmmhm, good morning,” He nonchalantly claimed your lips as he gets up.

You spluttered, “Why were you asleep in the hallway, Belphie? Also, it’s not morning anymore.”

“I was helping Beel with his workout just now,” Belphegor began as he rubbed his eyes. “I was so tired afterwards...So I guess I must’ve fallen asleep here without even reaching the bed. I can’t even remember walking here.”

“Be careful next time! What if you got hurt?” You furrowed your brows together.

“I’m a demon, remember? Our wounds will heal as quickly as they were made. Besides I got my pillow to soften the blow,” he patted his trusty cow patterned pillow.

You sighed. Instead of scaring him, he’s the one who gave you a fright.

“You really scared me when I tripped over your body, Belphie,” you pouted.

He chuckled, "So? What do you want me to do?"

“Hug me until I’m satisfied— after lunch,” you responded thoughtfully.

"But I always hug you though?"

“Are you saying that you don’t want to hug me, Belphie?” You raised an eyebrow.

"By the way, don't hide under the pillows for too long,” Belphegor helped you up after he got up from the floor. "I might accidentally sleep on you.”

“But they’re so comfy~~,” you quickly made up an excuse to why you were under the covers— though you were sure Belphegor had an idea why.

"I know. But I would like it more if I can see you clearly lying next to me."

“Then, we can hide under the pillows together,” You suggested.

"That's a nice idea.”

The two of you then walked down the stairs and towards the dining hall. It was just in time for lunch!

Beelzebub-

He had taken out a massive amount of food. He stacked 3 types of pie on top of one another to taste how good the combination would be.

“Beel....what are you doing?” You asked him as you stood at the entrance of the kitchen. You were well aware of what he was doing— but you asked anyways.

His hold on the three pie loosened and the pies slid right into his gaping mouth.

“Beel!” You rushed to his side, panic flooding your system. “Are you okay?! Beel!!”

He closed his mouth with one hand and stopped you with the other. You became confused— what were you supposed to do? He pounded his chest a few times, shaking the whole kitchen from the sheer force of it.

You winced at the sound, even if you were aware that he was a demon, it still sounded painful.

“Mammon?” You turned your head towards the entrance.

"Yeah, it's me, the great- Beel, what are ya doin?"

“I scared him and he choked on his pies..” You answered.

"Hold up! THE Beel choked on pies?!"

You ignored Mammon in favor of helping Beel, “Are you okay, Beel?”

He motioned you not to come any closer.

“???”

He rummaged through the fridge and took out a one gallon bottle of Super Spicy Mango Juice and began chugging it down.

“.....Do you feel better..?” You asked as he finished the juice.

"Ugh, next time I should remember to grip the pies properly,” Beel set down the empty gallon jug onto the table.

Mammon’s existence had been practically ignored, so now he demanded it, “Stop ignoring the Great Mammon!”

“I’m not ignoring you! I’m making sure Beel doesn’t die!” You grumbled.

"Yeah, by just standing there," Mammon scoffed as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Mammon, I will seriously tell Lucifer about your petty crime you did last night if you don’t shut up.”

"Eeeeehhh!”

You proceeded to take your phone out of your pocket and got ready to speed dial Lucifer.

"HOLD ON! WAIT A MINUTE!"

You ignored his pleas, as you usually did. Mammon quickly ran off and you took the chance to actually make sure Beelzebub was okay after checking that you didn’t actually call Lucifer on accident.

“Why did you keep pushing me away?” You asked the Avatar of Gluttony.

"Because if you touched me, I'd choke again,” He responded seriously.

“Is that so?”

He nodded.

You pouted, “I was trying to prank you, but in the end, you’re the one who scared me! What will you do to soothe my aching heart?”

"Come here,” he opened his arms, motioning for you to enter his embrace.

You did as you were told.

He placed his chin on top of your head and wrapped his arms around you, “Sorry…”

“I’ll forgive you after a few minutes.”

Asmodeus-

You just finished applying the fake injury makeup on your face. You hadn’t done it in a while, so you wanted to make sure you didn’t forget out to do anything. It was a simply piece of art— just a cut across your face from cheek to cheek.

You were walking out of your room, wanting to prank a brother or two with the fake injury, when Asmodeus was walking down the hallway.

“Oh my devil! (Y/N)!!” He rushed right over and cupped your cheeks.

“Asmo—,” you couldn’t even get a full sentence in before he hustled you away. You knew he would’ve gotten freaky over such an injury, especially if it was real, but you did feel a litttttle guilty since it was just special effects makeup.

“Asmo,” you tried again.

"Which demon in the whole of Devildom is cruel enough to do this to you?" Asmo didn’t stop mumbling.

“No one!” You quickly answered as you saw the absolute carnage that was Asmodeus’s bloodlust. You failed to catch his attention, “Asmo— listen to me!”

"Hush your pretty mouth and let me fix it,” Asmodeus continued on with dragging you to his room to get fixed up.

He plopped you down onto the seat of his vanity and started searching for an ointment, “"Now where did I put that..."

“Asmo, I’m fine!” You tried to persuade him.

"Excuse me?! What part of your face is fine?!" He turned to face you as he shrieked.

You grabbed a section of the fake skin around the wound and started pulling at it.

"GAH! STOP IT!" He held your wrist tightly.

“Asmo— it’s a fake wound! I put it on myself!” You continued to pull at the special effects makeup.

"Huh?!" He stared at you with disbelief.

“I do special effects makeup for fun! Don’t you remember?”

"I did remember you mentioning that to me once... Or maybe twice,” Asmodeus hummed.

“I was practicing it before I came out of my room. I wanted to show you guys how realistic I could make them...”

"Oh, you gave me such a fright!" He placed his hand on his forehead dramatically.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized sweetly. “I’ll need some make up wipes to get some of this off though— can I borrow some?”

He smiled sweetly, "Sure, you want the green tea smelling one? Oh and after that use this Buffo Egg Face cream. It works wonders and smells great!”

He magically pulled things out of the drawers and set them down on the table for you. Under his careful eye, you took off the make up, discarding the fake flesh directly into the trash can so the fake blood wouldn’t stain the table.

You were massaging the cream into your face when he was putting everything back. You smiled as the prank was deemed successful. Thank god(?) it was Asmo.

Satan-

Satan was lounging in his favorite place in the library. His nose was stuck in a book as per usual. His concentration was unbroken.

The door to the library was open, so there was no need for you to open it. You walked in, your steps as silent as the night. Curious, you approach Satan with the intent of seeing what he was reading, and maybe startle him a little bit on the way. He had noticed a presence but his senses had been dulled due to the intriguing book which had his full attention. He looked at the spot where you passed by a moment later.

“Satan, what are you reading?” You asked as you moved to stand directly behind him.

Just like a cat, he jumped in his seat, startled. The thick book that was in his hands was flung at your direction.

It smacked you straight in the forehead before landing in between your feet. You kneeled down in pain and rubbed your forehead, “Ow...!”

"Oh dear, I am terribly sorry,” He quickly rushed to your side.

“It’s okay..,” you mumbled, trying to ease away the throbbing. Your eyes were watery from the pain when you looked up at the blond. Noticing the red mark, he inched closer to you to get a better look.

“I don’t think it’s bleeding, but is it bruising?” You asked as you pulled your hand away from the injury.

"I think it will definitely leave a temporary mark,” He stated as he brushed the strands of your hair away.

“I’m going to need to ask for some concealer from Asmo,” You sighed. A bruise on the middle of your forehead was going to be a pain to cover.

"I don't think that's necessary."

“Why? Are you going to kiss it better?” You teased, having recovered from the initial shock of getting smacked with a book.

You could feel his lips on the throbbing part as he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Well, I could but it wouldn't make it heal faster, would it? I have some medicine inside my room which helps lessen the inflammation quickly," Satan chuckled. "I'll go get it."

He returned with a small glass jar that had some white ointment in it. It resembled tiger balm. You were sitting on the couch now, with the novel Satan was reading beside you.

"This might hurt a little. So hold still," He roughly applied the ointment, making you wince. The scent of mint quickly took over your senses. He twisted the lid on the jar shut and set it down on the coffee table.

“So, what were you reading?” You asked. You already looked at the synopsis, but it was always fun to listen to Satan as he talked about books.

He began to talk about the book wholeheartedly and in that room, both of you spent the rest of the night until the midnight clock chimed.

Leviathan-

With special permission from our lovely Avatar of Envy, you pushed in the various cardboard boxes into his room. Of course, it was all his merchandise he had bought online. The said demon was currently enjoying a convention and wouldn’t be home until late that night, and so you decided to pull a small prank on him.

You found a box that you could fit in and sat in it, grabbing the flaps and tucking it under you so it would seem like it was taped in both sides like it should be. It was time to wait for his return.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard the door to his room clattering, along with some muffled noises.

"Hehehe, that convention was so awesome. I can't believe someone cosplayed as Ruri-chan so perfectly,” he giggled.

You heard the shuffling of his feet near you. You had to stifle your laughter as he started to open the boxes one by one.

"I wonder which one of the boxes contained my dakimakura,” Leviathan mumbled. You heard sounds coming from above you.

The box opened just as you turned your head to look up, and your gaze met with Levi’s, “Umm, hi!”

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!” Leviathan jumped back as he screamed. You popped out of the box and started to laugh uncontrollably.

“A-are you okay, Levi??” You gasped in between laughs.

"You gave me a heart attack!" He muttered under his breath. "Introverts like me aren't used to people appearing in their shipment boxes...Although it’s a dream come true for an otaku like myself.”

“No one is usually used to people appearing in their shipment boxes, Levi,” you chuckled.

"I guess that’s true…Aaaaahhhhh, I'm so embarrassed!”

“I heard something about a dakimakura? Who is it this time?”

Levi’s cheeks flushed bright red, "Um.... That's...You don't need to know about that.”

“Hm?” You grew even more curious and turned your head to see that there was only one box he hadn’t opened yet. You smirked, “Levi~~ if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to investigate it myself!”

"WAIT A MINUTE!" He was quick to stop you. "Whatever it is, do not open that box!! Our friendship will be ruined!!”

“Friendship? Why?”

"It's- It's- AHHH, I can't tell you ok! You'd probably think I'm a creep!!” He struggled with his words.

“I mean, I’ve already accepted the fact that you’re a lolicon...” You pondered, “Don’t tell me...you’ve lewded a baby???”

"WHAT?! I MAY be a degenerate but I will not stoop that low!" He exclaimed. "Fine! It's a dakimakura of you ok?! Happy?!”

“I didn’t know they sold pillows with me on it...did you have it custom made?” You started to tease him, seemingly unfazed by the revelation.

"Yeah, ” he grumbled.

“Why would you do that?”

"So I can pretend to hug you when you're not here,” he covered his face in shame.

“Aww, you’re so precious!”

Mammon-

In his room, the Great Mammon was counting the money he just got from selling something.

You had an inkling of what he was doing when he holed himself up in his room, and decided to pull a tiny, tiny prank on him. You took out your DDD and pulled up the voice recording app, where you had a recording of Lucifer saying, “Mammmmooooooon...”

You pressed the play button and started opening the door that he had forgotten to lock.

He stood up in attention after quickly stuffing the money in his pockets. You couldn't believe your eyes when he practically threw himself out of his own window.

“Mammon!!” You screamed after him. You looked down yet you couldn't find any trace of him. The sound of wings flapping caught your attention next, so you looked up to see a panicked Avatar of Greed.

"WHA- YOU FREAKING SCARED ME!!” Mammon shouted.

“So you have been doing some naughty things,” you accused as you saw the money falling out of his pockets. “What did you do this time?”

"Nothing- Wait, I'm supposed to be the one asking here!"

“I was looking for my necklace— I lost it a while back,” You lied to see what his reaction would be, and to distract him.

"Well, it's your fault you misplaced it. "Guess I have no choice but to help ya.”

“Thank you, Mammon~,” You stepped away from the window.

"Wait a sec, why are you hiding one hand behind your back?" He flew back into his room.

You innocently turned off your DDD so it would only show your lock screen when you held it up to him, “Just my DDD. I didn’t want to accidentally throw it out the window.”

You forgot that the notification had shown the audio which you last played. It didn’t have a title that would expose your prank, but it probably appeared a little suspicious. When you realized, you forced your facial muscles to not react.

The attempt failed, and soon you bursted into laughter.

“Wha—? What chu laughing about?!” Mammon was genuinely confused. You clicked the play button.

He pointed a finger at you, “You—!!! How dare you scare me like that! It ain’t funny!”

You booped his nose, "Then, you should’ve seen how you threw yourself out of the window.”

He spluttered, clearly flustered that he broke a window in panic, “Stop messing with me!” He pinned you to the wall while his face turned red due to both embarrassment and rage.

A few moments later, a familiar voice filled the room, “Mammooooooon....”

“Oi! Stop playing that recording!” Mammon hissed.

"Uh...Mammon, that wasn't me…”

“Hah? What do you mean it wasn’t you?”

You pointed a finger towards Lucifer’s direction, and Mammon turned his head to look, his expression paling when he saw his older brother glaring menacingly.

“Uh, run!” He carried MC on his shoulder and flew out of the House of Lamentation.

Lucifer-

You had thought of an ingenious plan to surprise Lucifer. You had planned it for weeks and it's finally time to execute it.

You were walking towards his bedroom, looking for the Avatar of Pride, holding a tray. You went up to the door and knocked on the door to ensure that he was not in the room.

Just before you were about to open the door, Lucifer’s voice came from beside you, “What are you doing?”

Your blood went cold, and you quickly thought of the best way to lie to him in your head as you turned to face him.

“I came to see you!” A dumb, and obvious reason.

"So? Don't tell me it was for such a petty reason."

“Is it bad?”

"It was just that I was expecting a more sophisticated reason for your odd behaviour.”

“I was hoping to surprise you with refreshments, that’s it.”

He cocked an eyebrow, not believing a word you said. You lifted up the tray in your hands briefly to show him that you did bring something for him to eat and drink.

"I'll believe you... For now.”

You found yourself pouting at his response. Seriously? You shouldn’t have bothered.

"Come in.”

You stepped back so he could open the door and enter the room first, and you quietly followed him in. Thankfully, you didn’t jolt too violently when he had startled you, so nothing was really ruined. You took a quick glance to see if everything is in its proper position. Satisfied, you set the tray onto Lucifer’s table— where it wasn’t bothering him or his paperwork.

"By the way, what concoction is that?" He asked as he sat down at his desk.

“Hmm? A variation of Green tea.”

"Hmm, I must say that it is not my cup of tea but since you made it, I assume it is good.”

“It goes well with the desserts I chose, so that’s why I selected it. They’re human realm recipes, specifically from the eastern side of the world,” you tried your best to ignore the pun.

"Very well.”

There was a variation of mochi and daifuku, along with almond cookies and egg tarts. He took the mochi, as he was reminded of your squishy cheeks.

“It’s chewy and stretchy, and not too sweet,” you explained before he ate it. After he swallowed, you added, “I slipped some sleeping pills inside the filling so you’d actually sleep.”

“That doesn’t work on me,” he stated in a triumphant manner.

“I know.”

“Come here.”

You obeyed and walked towards him. He pulled you roughly and you landed on him, kissing him in the process.

“!!!”

"Now that was sweeter than any treat,” he smirked before pulling you in for another. "Oh, I forgot to tell you that you'll succumb to the effects of the pills soon.”

”Please don’t eat me when I fall asleep,” you murmured.

"Don't worry, I won't. I'd prefer you to be awake if I were to eat you,” he reassured. "Just fall asleep in my arms. I'll always protect you.”

I was supposed to wait until I had some other things written up before posting this but I have no patience and Yun granted me permission to post xD.

- Ran

#obey me #obey+me #shallwedate #shall we date obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me x you

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

R/q: Say, you do call Chisaki as a devil sometimes. So how about a Au??? Where Kai is a summoned dempn by reader and she is terrified at the thought of being cursed by him; while the jackass is like 'oh great filth for me to watch over.' But Ima a sappt for love so they slowy fall for each other thank you byeeee

Never on your life you would have thought that something like this woud have happened only because of a bit of curiosity and you reading out loud some sentences of a purple old book you found.

The ground cracked whiel the room grew hotter and hotter before a circle with a unknow sign appeared in front of you and you screamed when green flames apeared along with a demon, golden eyes piercing your soul as you laid on the floor, terrified.

"Which filthy disguting soul dares to sumon me?" The voice, contrary to the room and the half man and demon in fron of you which was hot as fuck, spoke in utterly coldness as flames danced aroun his arms and around both of you.

"I-I-fuck- W-Well I-"

"Answer for once!" He shouted in anger and the flames grew wider at that.

"Please don't kill me I swear I didn't mean it for you to be summoned or whatever the fuck is what you call." You blurted out as the flames dissapeared along with the annoyed sigh and a flick of fomger from the demon.

"A dumb and worthless human I see."

"Hey." You called out while getting the courage to stand up "Don't need to be rude oh mighty demon you can just leave."

"I can't idiot." He sighed and pointed at the book "When you summon me, you are stuck with a curse."

"Pardon me- CURSE?!" you shouted and the demon glared down at you.

"You're deaf or something? Next time think before summoning something from hell."

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!"

"You're too loud." He growled while looking up in both annoyance and despair as he pinched his nose.

Aparently after two weeks ypu discovered that the curse was sorta of having a very annoying man by your side and not leaving you alone. The bastard scoffed at everthing about your world and pointed out how it was ridiculous or wrong, and seemed even to throw a fit about your apartment not being clean enough.

"So...?" The demon glanced away from the book to arch an eyebrow at you from the couch he was sitting "How long you're staying-?"

"Until you make a pact or die." He replied nonchantly before flipping the page while your eye twitched at his behaviour.

"Seems like demons don't have much manners."

"Manners isn't necessary on hell. You will get used to it."

"...wait- I AM GOING TO HELL?!"

"Probably."

You were freaking out, and this was only the final of the first week.

Time passed by and you finally were getting used to the demon living with you. He stayed on his natural form behind closed doors but when he was forced to went outside due to your habbits, his worns and black wings quickly dissapeared, remaining golden eyes stayed the same while he summoned a type of mask for him to use.

When you asked the first time why he basically told you to mind your own bussines but eventually you found out this particulary demon had a certain problem with germs.

You were ordering two drinks as your conpanion stood at least oen foot away from you as the cashier handed the orders with a smile.

"Have a nice evening young couple!" You blushed hard at their words as the man demon deadpanned and just continue on his walk to putsidw of the mini shop.

The walk was awkward to say at least but in the middle of it he decided to break the silence.

"You humans tend to be very stupid."

"Geez thanks for the compliment as always unknow demon that I dont even know the name of." You grumbled, face hot as the words of that cashier feplayed in your mind.

"Sarcasm is not your fort idiot. And you will know my name when I want you to know."

"Well, you're practically living with me jackass. Some respect is apreciated." You said in annoyance while grabbing your keys to enter your apartment.

In one snap of his fingers you felt as if someone had just punched you in the gut just after you had unlocked the door. The demon just entered the apartment nonchantly, soon back to his demon form and throwing the empty cup of his drink perfectly on the trash can.

"Learn your place and I might consider on treating you like something that is not just a playtoy or a debt."

Motherfu-

"This seems like one of the thing about here that you don't complain." You smiled at the man watching some type of another documentary about mafias.

"Just happens to be interesting. Nothing more neither less." He spoke nonchantly, not even gazing away fron the T.v. You smiled while rolling your eyes before the sound of the door bell called you to answer it.

Welp. More like to greet a gun.

"This is a robbery madam. Move and I will shot." The man said grufily as you extended your hands up quivering.

"I-Im sorry sir b-but I got nothi-"

"I warned ya." You went to beg for your life before flinching at the sound of the gunshot, but opening your eyes you saw the back of the man you've been living with for months now.

He had just bent a gun, the barrel now pointing at the ceiling with the bullet mark as the thief trembled with fear at the show of the inhuman strengh in front of him. The demon glared at him, horns apearing as well as his wings in full display as the green flames surrounded the three of you. He grabbed the thief by the shirt and lifted him up to growl closee to his face.

"Dare to step on here once again and I will make hell seem like a walk on the park to you. Now OUT!" He shouted while throwing the man out as he ran away... and you swore he was crying.

You blinked at the man who patted his hands with a scoff before deciding to open your mouth when he just casualy came back to his spot on the couch to return to watch his documentary.

"W-what- What was that?"

"Saved your life. You're welcome."

"Thanks for that but... weren't you going to be free from me if I died?"

You didn't noticed the way his golden eyes widened up neither the face of the realization sucking in that appeared on him.

You weren't aware of the man watching you from teh door as you slept. But he was inching closer and closer, enough to summon a chair to sit right in front of you to look at your resting face.

"... What type of curse is this? This wasn't suppose to happen. Is impossible." He scoffed before gently tucking an strand of hair of your behind your ear.

"And my foolish self thinking that this was going to be easy..." he sighed, knowing exactly what had happened to him with the evidences of what he feared the most appeared to him.

Evidences that he came to have a aoft spot for you.

Were you going to hell for havinf fallen to a demon?

That question seemed to curcled at your mind for more time that you would have liked. But how? How could you fall for a man, a demon no less, that you didn't even knew the freaking name?!

He was a nice company despite his annoying tendecies, and ever since he saved you you noticed the subtle signs of care that he showed towards you... or were you simply hallucinating?

"Mind off to somewhere (Y/n)?" You snapped back to reality when the said man, in his "human form" that he choosed to remain for a long time by now, looked down at you with an arched eyebrow and a mug on his hand.

"N-Nothing important really!" You waved your hands with a smile. Blushing a bit when you aw his resting botch face again, cleary speaking that he didn't believed in your words.

"You're horrible at lying. I can tell that." He commented as you mumbled under your breath in embarrassment before wideing your eyes suddenly.

"You just said my name!" You pointed at him before he arched his eyebrow with a smirk.

"Did I?"

"You did!" You exclaimed with a smile, looking up at him but soon turning in embarrassment when you saw how handsome he looked while smilling... sorta.

"Seems like I own at least this since I ac identaly spoke your name. On hell they call me Overhaul, but you are different, so just call me Kai."

You widened your eyes once mlre before nodding with a mouth agape, blushing crinsom red when one gloved finger of his lifted your chin up to make you shut your mouth.

"T-Thank you.. for tellling me finally your name." You smiled at him before he lowered a bit, inches away from your face as his hot breath danced around your face.

"You want to know why only you can call me by that instead of 'Overhaul'?" He whispered before you nod your head slow before soon melting on the kiss the demon gave to you, hands on your waist to prevent your fall as you circled your arms around his neck.

"Am I going to hell for this?" You breathed out when you two broke away as he stared back at your eyes.

"Probably..." he said hesitantly before sighing in relief when you shrugged and started another kiss much more passionate then the one before.

#bnha villains #bnha #bnha characters #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul x reader #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #my writing #zuffer writings

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habibialkaysani · 4 years

Text

the devil in star city (laurel/nyssa; t) - part vi

Ships: Laurel/Nyssa, Laurel/Joanna

Summary: “My name is Laurel Lance. When I was eight years old I was in a car accident that left me without sight. But in the process, my other senses were heightened.

By day, I am a defence attorney, ready to fight for justice in the courtroom on behalf of those who the law has failed. By night, I am someone else. I am something else.

I am Daredevil.”

A/N: Welp! I would say I can't believe it's been over a year since i updated this, but, uh, to call 2020 a complete and utter nightmare of a year would be the understatement of the millennium, let's be real. If you're still following this fic, I hope you are keeping as well as can be during these troubled times.

Please note that Laurel's alcoholism in this chapter is explored and talked about quite a bit, so fair warning for anyone who might be triggered by talk of addiction.

Read at AO3

Laurel's stomach growled in complaint as she lay on her bed, reading the braille version of The Complete Guide to the LSAT. It wasn't exactly light reading, and Laurel, so immersed in Legal Theory, couldn't quite remember if she'd had lunch, so she was thrilled when she caught a whiff of the aroma of pizza.

Nyssa had to be maybe a couple floors down. Sure enough, a few minutes later Laurel heard the door click from where she'd left it open.

“Got the pizza,” Nyssa said as she entered the dorm.

“Nyssa Raatko,” Laurel said, shutting the book with a grin, “my hero.”

“You’re the one who's intent on trying to save the world. Why else would you be spending your afternoon poring over books when you could be wreaking havoc on campus with me?”

Before Laurel could reply, though, there was another voice. "Sorry - hope I'm not interrupting."

Laurel hadn't heard Jo coming, for once not anticipating her familiar footsteps - and for good reason. Joanna should have been en route to Star City by now, surely.

Ever the gentlewoman (or flirt, it was hard to tell with Nyssa), Nyssa placed the pizza box on the bed and stayed on her feet.

"Not at all," she said, extending her hand to Jo to shake. "I'm Nyssa. You must be Joanna. Laurel's told me so much about you."

Joanna chuckled. "I bet she has. And… everything she told me about you seems to tally up."

There was no reason for Laurel to be flustered, not really, but she was, in a way, unnerved by how her best friend was clearly sizing up her girlfriend. Laurel got hurriedly to her feet. "Hey, Jo. Did you forget something?"

"Yeah, my criminal procedure notes. Just didn't realise until I got to the train station."

Quickly Laurel reached behind her and found a sheaf of papers underneath Joanna's pillow. "These, right? We were going over them last night." There was a rustling sound as Jo took a look through them. Once Jo made a small sound of assent and began to unzip her backpack, Laurel moved towards Joanna and called back over her shoulder. "Nyssa, I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

"Sure."

At least Jo had the good grace to wait until the front door clicked shut behind Laurel before she said anything.

"Dinah Laurel Lance," she said, sounding half-amused, half-impressed. "Always did know how to pick 'em."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning, she's hot, and so are you, so you two are a match made in heaven!" Laurel didn't say anything at first, mostly just relieved that the momentary awkwardness between them was indeed momentary. "I mean," Jo tried to backtrack, "all the, uh, girls must love that. And I am so glad the days of me being your wingwoman are over."

"You have to admit, you've never been very good at it," Laurel said. She hesitated, wondering if she should say what was on her mind, but she then remembered that Jo had a train to catch. "You'd better go. You're gonna be late."

"Uh-uh. A train can wait. My best friend looking like she was going to say something important - that can't."

Laurel felt a surge of love for Jo then. "You know I'd follow you off a cliff, right?"

Joanna patted Laurel's cheek. "Damn right I do. Now, what's on your mind, Laurel?"

"I guess - you're talking like I'm gonna be with her forever."

"Don't you want to be?" Laurel wanted to say yes without hesitation, but again, something was holding her back. Jo sighed, then said, "Okay, look -"

"I can't see," Laurel said, and though exasperated (Jo had surely heard that one a dozen times by now) her words still elicited a laugh from Jo.

"Listen, then - when you first told me about her, I thought it was just… you know, one of your - conquests, or something."

"Or something," Laurel agreed.

"But seeing you with her now - I realised something. You know, aside from being gorgeous as hell… she wouldn't look at you like that if she wasn't head over heels in love with you."

The words "she's not in love with me" were hot on Laurel's tongue, but they faded and didn't quite make it out of her mouth. "I - how does she look at me?"

"Like she can't believe her luck," Joanna said softly. "Like you're too good for her but you choose to be with her anyway."

"I'm sure that's not -" Laurel started to say, but Joanna cut across her, probably more sharply than she intended.

"Uh-uh. Remember, rule number one in Jo's Dating Handbook -"

"- the teacher is always right," Laurel said, shaking her head in exasperation. "Whatever." Nevertheless, Joanna's words left Laurel feeling suitable chastised.

"And remember rule number seventeen. For the love of all things holy - and I know that shit is important to you - try not to screw it up."

Laurel nodded. "Understood." But then she reached out, tugged at Jo’s sleeve. "This whole sage relationship advice, did you ever think about taking it?"

Joanna laughed and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "Not even once."

Chuckling fondly, Laurel opened the door to her dorm, where the smell of pizza grew stronger.

"Everything all right?" Nyssa asked, as Laurel slowly sat back down on the bed. Laurel knew, from the way the bedsprings creaked, that Nyssa had assumed Laurel's position, lying on her front, the pizza box instead of the LSAT book open in front of her. "You were out there a while. I was wondering if I had to start without you." And as if on cue, Nyssa's stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. "Oh, I bet your bat ears loved that."

Laurel tried to sound annoyed, but she didn't quite manage it, the corners of the mouth twitching into a grin despite herself. "They're not bat ears."

"Super ears," Nyssa suggested, and for good measure she reached out and tweaked Laurel's earlobe.

"I kind of regret telling you about this," Laurel said, and they both shared a chuckle because they knew perfectly well that that wasn't true. Laurel had never been able to talk about this with anyone - bar Lia, that is, and it wasn't like that had ended well. "Now, give me my pizza." Nyssa obliged, passing Laurel a slice. "Oh yeah," Laurel said through a mouthful of mushroom and olive pizza, "that's the good shit right there. Jo - she's always so boring with her pizza choices. Always goes for margherita."

There was quiet for a moment as they both ate, and then Nyssa said, "Hmm. Surprising when she strikes me as the adventurous type."

"She is, just in weird ways."

"Like what?"

"Like when she took Punjabi just because some girl she liked was taking it too. Not that she was great at it. But that's kinda what I love about her, to be honest."

"Did you two always get along?"

Laurel laughed. "Oh yeah. When I first got here, she was already in the dorm, enrolling into her classes, and I came in, introduced myself. Turned out she was from the Glades too. She grew up there, same as me. She - she heard about what happened to me, as a kid."

"What did she say?"

For a moment Laurel paused. "It wasn't too different to what you said when I told you what happened."

Now it was Nyssa's turn to laugh. "She said you were trying to save the world?"

"She said I was a hero," Laurel said slowly. "She said that was how she knew who I was - how everyone in the Glades knew who Laurel Lance was. The kid who put her life on the line to save a stranger."

"You don't agree?"

"I don't know. Did I even save him? I don't know. I don't remember. And it's not like I willingly chose to get blinded to save some random guy - it's not the same, it just happened, and it's not like I saved my -"

But now Laurel broke off, unable to finish her sentence with the sudden lump building in her throat, and instead she busied herself with finishing her slice. Nyssa didn't say anything, thank God, just kept eating. There was silence, the unexpectedly comfortable kind, interrupted only by the sounds of chewing, and the ripping of pizza as the two of them demolished what was left in the box, the quiet chuckles from both of them when they reached for the last slice at the same time. Laurel smiled as Nyssa got to it first, even more so when Nyssa tugged the slice in half and gave the larger piece to Laurel.

After flinging the empty box somewhat unceremoniously onto the floor, Nyssa shifted forward a bit, until her head was buried in Laurel's lap.

"She fancies you, you know," Nyssa said, just as Laurel began to stroke Nyssa's hair absentmindedly.

"What?"

“Joanna. She clearly has a thing for you."

"What makes you say that?" Laurel asked.

"The way she looks at you."

"If that were true - and I'm not gonna be the best judge of that - would that bother you?"

"Oh, not at all."

"You're forgetting that I can hear your heartbeat, Nyssa," Laurel said, twirling a few strands of Nyssa's hair with her fingers. "Are you really jealous?"

"Maybe a little," Nyssa admitted. "You must understand, relationships aren't exactly - my thing. It is simply not how I was built. This is new to me."

"They're not really my thing either," Laurel reminded her. "Listen. She's my best friend and I love her to pieces. But my bed is small enough as it is. I think there's only room for you."

"Okay." For a second Nyssa paused, and then she chuckled. "I never envisioned myself as the jealous type."

"With me - it's more that I never saw myself as the serious type. Serious enough to make someone jealous, I mean."

Laurel's words were greeted with silence as Nyssa took that in.

"And now?" Nyssa asked finally. "Has anything changed?"

"It's not like we've been together long -"

"I've not been together with anyone before," Nyssa interrupted. "Not really. Apart from you. And that was not what I asked, but I get it. I do. Letting someone in… that's scary. Especially for people like us."

Slowly Laurel let out a sigh of relief, as some of the trepidation that had been building up within her at Nyssa's every word started to dissipate. "People like us?"

"Come on." Nyssa was smiling - Laurel could hear it in her voice. "We hide from ourselves. We don't let anyone get close to us."

"You. I let you get close to me." This was Laurel's moment. She could say it, say the three little words that were practically on the tip of her tongue. Laurel could say what she felt like she had to say, both with a certainty she could feel in her bones and with the startling realisation of the truth: Laurel loved Nyssa.

This wasn't the old cliche of falling in love at first sight - that had never been befitting of Laurel. No, what she had with Nyssa was more like walking in love with her. Laurel usually kept people at bay, and usually the only one within arm's reach of her was Joanna. But with Nyssa - Laurel could feel herself walking steadily towards her. She had been drawn to Nyssa from the start. And now the distance between them was closing, each step Laurel took felt all the more thrilling and terrifying, in equal measure.

If their relationship was a painting, things were looking good for them - there wasn't an end in sight, they were still in their early stages, of sketches and backgrounds. But to make that canvas beautiful, a great work of art, rather than a good one that would fade into mediocrity or obscurity - that required bravery. To make a good thing great, Laurel knew she needed some bold strokes.

"Nyssa, I -" But of course Laurel couldn't get the words out, and in that moment she felt her mouth go so dry it was like she was tasting cotton wool on her tongue.

"Are you okay?" Nyssa asked, her hand moving to cup Laurel's cheek.

"Yeah," Laurel managed to say. "I, uh, I'm just tired, Nyssa. Sorry. I'm gonna - I'm gonna get ready for bed."

"I can go, if you want." Nyssa didn't sound upset - just confused, unsure, and suddenly Laurel was thrown even more off balance.

"Please don't," Laurel said, and it must have come out desperately, but Laurel was hit with this overwhelming feeling of just wanting to be held and nothing else. Taking Nyssa's hand, Laurel squeezed it. "I asked you to come over, remember? And I - I want you to stay. Please?"

To Laurel's relief, Nyssa answered her with a kiss. "Of course. The things I do for you, dearest."

"Thank you," Laurel murmured, getting to her feet, and she couldn't help but smile as Nyssa followed suit, rummaging in Laurel's drawers for mere seconds before unearthing one of Laurel's t-shirts.

Later that night, Laurel sat bolt upright in her bed, jolted unexpectedly from her dream, only realising when her hand met her damp hairline that she was drenched in sweat.

The sound that woke her was a siren. She could hear it now, stopping and starting several times before the noise spluttered to life and assaulted Laurel's eardrums in relentless waves. It was too loud, everything was too loud, and even as Nyssa stirred vaguely next to her, Laurel wasn't in the present anymore - her dream had thrust her forcibly and uncomfortably into the past. The sirens grew louder, even though she could no longer hear the grind of the police car's engine, instead the clamouring of ambulances and the constant beeps of a hundred different machines. It was like she was a kid again in the hospital room with her comatose father, the shirt he fought his final fight in still clutched in her hand -

"Laurel?"

Gasping, Laurel realised from the ache in her neck and pain in the back of her head that she had fallen off the bed, and it was only then that she came to. Nyssa was by her side in an instant, trying to take Laurel's hand, but Laurel kept pulling away.

But Nyssa didn't let go, simply holding on tighter, and then pulling Laurel to her feet.

"Can you walk?" Nyssa asked softly.

"I - I think so."

Laurel was a little unsteady, but she managed it, only realising from the gentle pressure that Nyssa was leading her to the door. "Where are we going?"

"The roof," Nyssa answered. "I think you told me once that it's got one hell of a view."

It was a bad joke, but Laurel chuckled nonetheless.

"In the middle of the night?"

"Just figured we could get your mind to be elsewhere if we are on top of the world for once. You and me."

Laurel was silent, but she let Nyssa lead her up several flights of stairs. By the time they got to the top they were both panting.

"This view - better be worth it," Laurel said breathlessly.

"Oh, it is. The stars are fucking gorgeous tonight." Nyssa was already at the edge, and Laurel joined her a second later, leaning against Nyssa, who had brought up a blanket that she draped over Laurel's shoulders.

"If you wanted to know what that was -"

"You had a nightmare," Nyssa said calmly. "Happens."

"You're not gonna ask me why I -" Laurel broke off, though, because she wasn't even sure what to say.

"Laurel, I learned weeks ago that if you wanted to share something with me, you would do so in your own time. Not when I demand it." At first Laurel didn't say anything in reply, and when the silence stretched on for a minute longer, Nyssa added quietly, "If it helps - the sirens keep me up at night too, sometimes. I can… only imagine how much that problem is amplified with you. Literally."

Laurel shook her head. "It's not just that. I mean - that's part of it. All that noise brought back shitty memories."

"Of the accident?" Laurel must have looked surprised, because Nyssa's hand crept up to touch Laurel's cheek with an unexpected softness.

"Not the accident. I've just been - dreaming a lot. About when my dad died."

"He was murdered," Nyssa said - and there was unexpected bluntness in her tone.

"Yeah." Laurel's voice was small, and she wondered if she wanted to go on, or if she could.

"Did they ever catch the bastard who did it?"

"No. Never. I went after him once - Dan Brickwell is his name. But he went underground after my dad's death. Haven't heard about him since."

"Let's hope he's six feet under, then."

"Amen to that," Laurel said savagely, but instantly when Nyssa caught Laurel's had with her own, Laurel softened a bit. "Hey. I'm sorry, by the way."

"What on earth for, my love?"

God. Laurel didn't know how Nyssa did that - how she managed to be so casually and unabashed affectionate in her words, without sounding scared even for a second.

"I know I talk about heavy shit a lot. Sometimes it's all I talk about -"

"It really isn't," Nyssa interrupted. "And even if it is, you're allowed to talk about what traumatises you, because often that's all you can think about. Especially now. Especially with me."

"You're wrong," Laurel found herself saying.

"What?"

"You're wrong about my trauma being all I can think about. I mean - for a while it was. But now… now I have you."

"You can have me as many times as you like," Nyssa whispered silkily.

"I know that," Laurel said, and they shared a laugh. "But I meant that you're all I think about nowadays, Nyssa Raatko. I mean - you get under my skin like no one else ever has. You get me. And I've - probably told you more in the little time that I've known you than I've told anyone in my life before." I Laurel held her breath, waiting for the gentle fall of Nyssa breathing out, but it seemed like Nyssa too was waiting for the other penny to drop. "I guess… what I'm trying to say is - maybe, I think - I might love you."

Laurel wasn't sure what to expect by her sudden confession, or what brought it on in the first place. Maybe it was the cool air fanning against her cheeks, the fact that the trip up the stairs let Laurel expel some of the pent up adrenaline that was disturbing her sleep, or the comfort she felt in Nyssa's body heat under the blanket they shared.

But it still took Laurel aback when she felt a feather-light kiss on her forehead, then her nose, and then one that lingered on her lips. Laurel could taste Nyssa's smile, and if she were more optimistic, she could have anticipated that, just not the words Nyssa uttered next: "Maybe I might love you too."

Several times Laurel opened and closed her mouth without managing to say anything, and when words failed her she grabbed a handful of the t-shirt Nyssa was wearing to kiss her hungrily. She got what Nyssa meant now, about being on top of the world, because that was how she felt taking Nyssa Raatko's breath away, and Nyssa, lifting Laurel off her feet, kissed her back, all of it quietly witnessed by the stars in the heavens above them.

"Do you think that's crazy?" Laurel said eventually, her voice soft and wanting as she finally pulled away. Her lips were tingling, Nyssa's sharp intake of breath making Laurel's heart soar into the night skies. "I just - never thought I'd be that girl, you know? I thought being in love only happened in books and songs. But I am." Laurel smiled. "God knows it. He has for a while."

"So you figured you'd let me in on the secret, huh?"

"Something like that." For a moment Laurel paused, as another siren sounded - but it was a little quieter this time. More distant. Laurel was grateful for that, for the height they were at, that meant the wail that often echoed in her head faded a bit. Her head was a bit clearer, thankfully.

"Mostly I was worried about what you'd say, when not even two months ago we were complete strangers… that it would scare you. Like it scares me. And that you'd - leave. Like people usually do with me."

"I fear nothing about the two of us." Laurel's scepticism must have shown on her face, because then Nyssa caught her hand with her own and placed it on her chest. "Listen to my heart if you must. You know it's true."

And of course Nyssa was right - the thud of Nyssa's heartbeat was steady as ever. Unexpectedly Laurel wrapped her arms around Nyssa, hugging her, burying her face into Nyssa's neck. "Thank you," Laurel said softly. "For sticking around. For not running when you could have."

"If I'm running anywhere, it's with you," Nyssa replied, tucking Laurel's hair behind her ear. "I mean that. You're all I think about too."

"Nyssa Raatko, are you getting soft on me?"

"Maybe," Nyssa said, "but you'll never be able to prove it. Even when you're a hotshot lawyer."

"You really think I'll get there?" Laurel asked, and a little bit of the floaty feeling Laurel had felt since Nyssa said those words back to her began to drift away.

"I know so."

"You can tell the future now?"

"Of course I can. And I see a great one for you. And for me, after we get married…"

"You think that will be legal by then?" Laurel asked as they began to head across the roof to the stairs that would lead them down, eventually, to Laurel's dorm.

"... and we raise our kids behind that wonderful white picket fence -"

"God, please, no, Nyssa. You know you'd die in the suburbs."

"Sure, but you'd make an excellent mum. Though for everyone's sake, and their health, we should leave the cooking to me…"

"I'll have you know I can make an excellent macaroni cheese -"

Their good-natured bickering continued even as they took off at a run down the stairs, the blanket swishing like a cape on Laurel's shoulders. When they got back to Laurel's dorm, they collapsed on the bed together, sweaty limbs entangled.

It didn't last that long, only a few golden hours, but it was enough at the time for Laurel.

***

A couple days later, it was once again the middle of the night. She didn't quite know how she got to where she was, cradling a bottle of whiskey with her back against Joanna's closet door - Laurel couldn't remember even getting out of bed, actually. She just knew, as it hit her, all at once, that she was going to bite the bullet and launch herself well and truly off the wagon.

It was different, she told herself, from falling off the wagon, which Laurel thought sounded more accidental or unintentional. No. Laurel knew what she was doing and what she was walking into, and the phantom urge to follow the smell of booze and walk into a bar, or rummage through the stash Laurel knew Jo kept in her closet, grew stronger day by day. And in that moment she sat in darkness she knew surrounded her but couldn’t see. Slowly, she contemplated the conundrum she held in her hands in front of her, for the question really was to drink or not to drink, and she didn't know the answer. Laurel was not altogether surprised to hear the rustling of bedsheets and the sound of getting to her feet. Laurel waited, held her breath as she listened to Nyssa's soft footsteps on the rug -

"Laurel?"

"Why are you awake?"

But Nyssa ignored the question. "Are you planning on drinking that, or did you buy the bottle just for you to cuddle?"

Despite herself, Laurel couldn't stop the fleeting laugh from leaving her mouth. "You're saying that like you want me to."

"No," Nyssa said calmly. "I'm asking if you want to." She paused for a second. "And maybe why."

"What about you?"

Nyssa scoffed. "You know I do not care for alcohol."

"No, I mean, why? What's stopping you?"

"I suppose it is a cultural thing. Some practices just stick with you for life.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean where I come from… we viewed intoxicants with disdain. That and - I know that if I am constantly inebriated and dependent on it, that will affect my judgement, my memory, even my choices. Besides which - I despise the smell of alcohol. It is most unpleasant to me."

"I hate it too," Laurel admitted.

"But -"

"I know, I know, how can I be addicted to something I don't like? It doesn't make any sense. Like - I don't want to take so many steps backward that I'd be right back where I started. But I also - I need it."

"Need what?"

Laurel knew what she needed, and it wasn't an AA meeting or a hurried phone conversation with her sponsor - at least, in her head, all Laurel could think about was the burning feeling of whiskey going down her throat and exactly how much she craved it. She was thirsty for something, anything, that could fill this sudden, gaping hollow of sadness in her soul. She needed something to patch over the nicks of uncertainty in her heart.

"You know when you get a paper cut? And you wait to see if it bleeds, and sometimes it's just a tiny thin red line, but it stings like hell, so you -"

"- you squeeze it," Nyssa said suddenly. "Or you press on that bit of skin and make the pain worse for a second because…" But now, Nyssa trailed off, and it was the silent understanding that passed through them as Nyssa knelt by Laurel's side.

"This is pain I need, Nyssa." Laurel thought of her father, of the blood that covered her fingertips when they reached his chest, the deathly smell that lingered beneath her nails for at least a week after he died. "This is the pain I deserve."

“That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” she shot out bitterly, but she felt bad instantly. She edged further back and was surprised Nyssa didn’t come closer.

“I don’t need to hear your heartbeat to know when you’re upset about something,” Nyssa said - and she did so in a whisper so quiet that only Laurel would be able to hear. "Tell me what's wrong." A pause, and then, Nyssa added, "Please?"

"It's nothing," Laurel insisted, but she was already softening: she held out her hand, lowered her defences just enough to let Nyssa in. "I just - yesterday was March 5th. When my dad died. And I forgot. How could I forget something like that? How - how could I be so caught up in my life that I -"

"You're human, that's why. Despite what I may say about your super hearing," Nyssa said, gently tweaking Laurel's earlobe and finally getting a laugh from Laurel, "you are a mere mortal. You forget things, and then you remember. You have temptations, vices - and you find the strength, somehow, to resist them. And you look at yourself and think the worst because you see only your flaws, but then…" Laurel sighed at the feeling of Nyssa's fingertips, feather-light against her cheek.

"Then I find a beautiful girl at a party and ask her to dance," Laurel murmured. "No, I know. But it's more like - too much shit piled up.”

“I don’t follow.”

“There’s something else. About my dad’s death. The man who ordered the hit -"

"Brickwell?"

"Yeah. I heard on the radio while you were out getting stuff for dinner that he… he got out on a technicality."

"I thought you said your dad's murderer was never caught?"

"He wasn't. Brick doesn't get his hands dirty when he can avoid it. He was only in for a weapons charge, and even then they couldn't make it stick with the appeal."

"So now he's free?" Nyssa asked. Laurel just nodded hopelessly.

"I got my hopes up, Nyssa. I thought that maybe the system did work. That the law would do what it was supposed to do, that there might actually be justice - even if not directly for my dad then for him being a - a -"

"A complete and utter piece of garbage?" Nyssa suggested helpfully.

"That’s an understatement. I just felt so helpless. And it got me thinking about what my dad would think, of me, of what I'm trying to do with my life. What he died for. If it was in vain when even now it seems like I'm fighting a losing battle." Laurel didn't realise until then that she was breathing shakily. "It got me thinking about whose fault his death really was."

There was silence as Nyssa took this in, and there was no mistaking the incredulity in her voice. “Don’t tell me you actually blame yourself for his death?”

For a moment, Laurel didn’t say anything, simply moving her hand to enclose Nyssa’s wrist. Then, Laurel said, “Okay, then. I won’t.”

There was more silence, and for a second Laurel’s grip slackened on Nyssa’s arm, until Nyssa took hold of her hand with both of hers and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“I told you he was killed. I never said why.” Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Laurel tried to collect herself, but the next words came as a sob. “It was because of me.”

She expected Nyssa to make excuses for her, in a futile attempt to absolve Laurel of the sins that haunted her. But Nyssa didn't do that. “How?” she asked instead, and her tone was level, steady, just like her heartbeat.

"I overheard him once. When he was training in the ring and I was doing my homework - someone came to talk to him, wanting to fix the fight. And my dad -" Laurel's voice cracked for a second, and this time when Nyssa made to put her arms around her Laurel didn't stop her. "- my dad was Larry Lance. Always broke as shit, a single father, with a blind kid who needed expensive braille books. He had very few options. So of course he agreed. And on the night of the fight… he was getting ready, telling me not to wait up, and I -"

"Oh, Laurel."

"I told him what I heard. I couldn't believe my dad was going to cave to the gangs in the Glades when he was always telling me I could make it a better place. And I got angry at him, Nyssa. I said he was being a hypocrite, that - one of the last things I said to my father was that he wasn't as brave as I thought he was. And because he listened to me… because he didn't lose like he agreed to - he paid the ultimate price. So it is my fault."

"So what?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don't think it was your fault, Laurel. But clearly you do. And I don't get to tell you what your truth is - I just want to know how you think you're going to find the answer to your guilt in that bottle."

"I'm not looking for an answer. I'm -" Laurel searched for the words, finally settling on, "I have a lot of rough edges. A lot of that is guilt. The booze smooths them over a bit."

"You say that. But you know that it won't last. And later down the line you'll have even more of the guilt for succumbing to something you've fought off for a year." Nyssa hesitated for a moment, then said, "I know I never met him, but - you're strong, Laurel. Stronger than you know."

"You say that, but we tied last time we sparred." Laurel knew she was deflecting again, but she couldn't help it - her heart was aching and she felt rubbed raw with vulnerability. Nyssa seemed to sense this, cupping her cheek and running her thumb down Laurel's jaw.

"My guess is that you were raised to be that way by your father. But also - the strongest metal is forged in the hottest fire, after all, and you found strength in the face of adversity, Laurel, and it's one of the things I love most about you." Laurel couldn't stop her smile if she tried now.

"I wanna be brave, Nyssa. Like I told my dad to be. I just don't know how."

"About your father… do you want to talk about him?"

"Do you really want to know?" Laurel asked doubtfully.

"Laurel. Darling. First off, daddy issues are definitely in my wheelhouse."

"You and me both, sweetheart."

"And second - you should know by now that I would gladly listen to you reading the Constitution if you really wanted to talk about it."

Laurel smiled, and as Nyssa got to her feet, Laurel did the same. She turned, opening Jo's closet door and placing the bottle back inside. Nyssa was waiting for her, and on impulse Laurel kissed her, taking Nyssa by surprise.

"What was that for?" Nyssa asked softly.

"I love you,” Laurel whispered, “for everything that you are. And for not giving up on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

“That makes one of us.”

“One day it’ll be both of us.”

They got back into bed, Laurel's arm going around Nyssa's waist and pulling her close.

"So, uh, did you wanna start with the separation of powers?"

"Separation of what?"

"Separation of powers into three branches of government?" Laurel said teasingly, and Nyssa made a few sounds of confusion. “I thought you wanted me to talk about the Constitution?”

“Oh, that’s what you were talking about!” The thing was, it sounded like Nyssa wasn’t even kidding, and that made Laurel laugh. "How about I tell you about my family, and you tell me about yours?"

Come to think of it, Laurel didn’t know much about Nyssa’s family at all - just that she had a sister and that she was adopted. She wanted to know more about the woman she loved.

"Deal."

Tagging: @prett-ybird @mysunnyonesotrue @unusual-raccoon @avasharpe @light-miracles @nyssalance @saraa-lancee @nerd-spikey @i-should-be-asleep-probably @bioft @flyingofftoneverlandforgood

#lauryssa #laurel x nyssa #laurel lance #nyssa al ghul #arrow #arrow fanfiction #daredevil au #mattelektra au #mine #my fic #otp: dinner's on me #fic: the devil in star city #alcoholism tw #addiction tw

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incorrecttowerofgodquotes · 4 years

Text

A Loud Night

This is a small preview into the fic I’m writing. This won’t appear in story and Bam’s gonna be the main character, but I wanted some experiencing writing this setting.

It was time for the night shift at Hansung’s Diner, the most boring thing of all time. At least, thats what Ehwa thought. She had no problem working during the day when she had classmates to talk to and gossip to overhear, but during the night shift many shady characters popped up. Whether it be truck drivers or people from out of town, Ehwa simply served them and walked away. The times where she wasn’t serving were occupied with cleaning the diner or browsing her phone. That’s exactly what the first two hours of her shift were made of. Wash the tables, take orders, carry food out, and then go on Twitter or Instagram. She had just finished serving an old truck driver when the door to the diner opened with a bang.

“Ugh, I feel like shit.”

“Don’t lay on me asshole!”

“Khun, calm down.”

A rowdy bunch had made its way in. Four boys from her grade-Khun, Bam, Shibisu, and Hatz-had arrived. Not an ideal group to talk to, but she supposed it was better than nothing. Judging from their smell and the time of night they arrived, Ehwa surmised they had just come from a party. Shibisu seemed to be the only one who was actually drunk, but Hatz and Khun were a bad combination. And Bam...being around him was awkward. She still remembered the time when she had a crush on him, a simple childhood crush that never went anywhere. She kissed him once during a game of Spin the Bottle. While young Ehwa almost died of happiness, current Ehwa almost died of embarrassment every time she thought of it.

The four of them took a booth in the far back and Ehwa counted down from ten before walking up to them. Khun and Bam were sitting pretty close to each other, but then again those two have always been touchy. Shibisu was slumped over onto the table while Hatz half-heartedly rubbed his back.

“Good evening. May I take your order?” Ehwa asked them while holding a notepad.

“Look at that, we got ourselves a cute little waitress.” Khun teased. Ehwa flushed red. Did he really still hold a grudge over that kiss?

“Shut up with those remarks or I’ll be the one cooking your food.” Ehwa retorted. She didn’t enjoy putting herself down, but if it got Khun to shut up she didn’t care. He put up his hands in a mock surrender and started laughing.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll take a french toast and Bam…” he turned over to his friend.

“I’ll have pancakes if it’s not too much trouble.” Bam said.

“And what will the drunkard want?” Ehwa asked.

“French toast as well I guess. Also bring him a coffee. He’s only had beer in his system the past seven hours.” Khun said.

“Aren’t you gonna ask what I want?” Hatz grumbled.

“You always talk about how you don’t like eating food with too much fat or sugar so I thought you wouldn’t anything.” Ehwa said. Hatz was one of those overly athletic types, always stressing over what was good to eat and what was not.

“I get hungry too! Just give me an omelet or something.” Hatz ordered. Ehwa scribbled down on her notepad and left the table to their own discussion. She tore off the slip of paper she wrote on and handed it to the chef. It was around 15 minutes later she received the food and balanced it on her tray. Carrying orders over for the past year have trained her not to stumble or tilt the tray. For someone from a esteem family like hers, this detail would go unnoticed, but Ehwa took pride in that fact.

“Here’s your order.” Ehwa stated while putting the food in front of their respective owners.

“You almost looked like a real waitress then. Next time try balancing a tray on your head.” Khun joked. Ehwa kicked his shin while holding the cup of coffee over his head. After that he immediately quieted down.

“So, who hosted the party?” Ehwa asked. She did a quick look around the diner and figured that nobody needed help at this time.

“Serena this time. Were you not invited again?” Hatz asked. The comment hurt, but it was also a simple fact. Ehwa wasn’t invited to many parties, not ever since she began working at the diner and getting roped up in “gang activity” as the locals called it. To interact with “those people” was a disgrace. However since her mother and aunt never cared about who she interacted with, she didn’t care what others thought either.

“I was invited. But as you can tell I have to work tonight.” Ehwa said.

“Your mom makes enough money. You don’t have to work.” Khun stated.

“I may not have to work, but I’d rather get a headstart in life unlike you guys.” Ehwa retorted. Khun scowled at her, which made Bam let out a tiny laugh.

“How’s Elaine? I haven’t heard to much about her for the past week.” Bam asked Ehwa. Why was it when anyone wanted to know about Elaine they went to her first. Whether it was her friends, Elaine’s family, or the police, everyone assumed Ehwa knew everything the older girl was up too. Though maybe it was for good reason, but Ehwa tried her best to hide that part of her.

“I don’t have a leash on that girl. She hasn’t been here in three days.” Ehwa answered.

“Maybe she finally got put down? Wouldn’t surprise me-ack!” Khun yelled out in pain as Ehwa kicked his shin hard. He was started to make a rebuttal but the fury on Ehwa’s face shut that down instantly. Suddenly she heard the ring of the door behind her.

“Speak of the devil-or should I say wolf?” Khun remarked. Ehwa looked behind her and saw Elaine coming in with Alphine. The older girl was wearing a leather jacket and tight blue jeans. She had flattened hair probably cause she was wearing a motorcycle helmet just before then. Their eyes briefly met before Elaine and Alphine sat at a booth closer to the door.

“Excuse me, I have a customer to serve.” Ehwa stated before turning around to walk away.

“I bet food’s not the only thing she’s gonna serve.” she heard Khun snicker. Ehwa thought for a moment of turning around and beating the blue haired man with the tray, but she’d rather not appear in such an insightly manner. She walked across the dinner and headed towards Elaine’s booth.

“Good evening. May I take your order?” Ehwa asked.

“Do you always start with that bland response or is it just for me?” Elaine joked. It was when she spoke that Ehwa realized she missed the sound of her voice. The deep yet gentle tones it carried was like music to her ears. Not to mention now that she was closer to Elaine she saw just how handsome her face looked and how brightly her eyes sparkled. Ehwa pulled herself out of her thoughts by reminding herself customers, specifically Khun, were still there.

“It’s part of my job. You can take it up with Hansung if you don’t like it.” Ehwa stated.

“No, I like it when you’re on the job. Especially since I get to see you in uniform.” Elaine smiled. A blush made it’s way onto her face and her legs felt weaker than usual. Ehwa never liked the silly waitress uniform she was made to wear, but if Elaine liked it then maybe she could like it too.

“I’ll have an omelette.” Alphine spoke up. Ehwa pulled her eyes away from Elaine’s and onto her notepad. She began scribbling the order down and waited for Elaine to answer.

“I’ll have pancakes and sausage. A coffee as well.” Elaine answered. After more writing, Ehwa headed towards to the cook to place in another order. Immediately after giving the order, Ehwa walked back to Elaine’s booth. She felt Khun’s stare directed at her back and she’d bet money he was smirking.

“You haven’t come by in a while, everything okay?” Ehwa asked.

“Well, Hansung told me it’s bad for business if I come by during the day and I didn’t want people talking bad about you, so I’ve been coming at night. Though since you weren’t working night shift the past few days we missed each other.” Elaine explained. Elaine wasn’t one to follow rules or suggestions, so the fact that she did for Ehwa’s sake...it made her weak all over.

“You don’t have to do that. Feel free to come by whenever I’m working.” Ehwa said. Elaine smirked and poked Ehwa’s thigh. Ehwa let out a squeak and backed up a bit. She heard laughter from the booth in the back and now regretted not performing tray assault.

“We’ll be out of here after we eat.” Alphine stated. Ehwa felt her spirits dampen a bit. She wanted to talk to Elaine for a few more hours, even being in her presence was good enough for Ehwa. Elaine noticed Ehwa’s demeanor change and gave her another poke.

“We can talk later tomorrow. If you wanna go for a ride with me.” Elaine suggested. Ehwa smiled and gave a small nod.

“I’d love too. Then I guess we can talk tomorrow. I’ll get your food and-” Ehwa was cut off by Elaine shoving a ten dollar bill into her hand.

“I’ll give your tip early. Since you were having a conversation with the guys in the back, you better go finish it.” Elaine winked. Ehwa looked at the crisp bill with admiration before putting it into her pocket. Elaine was her best tipper, she didn’t need to give money since her being there was enough, but she’d never turn down more money. Ehwa went back to the guys’ table with a neutral face.

Khun was smiling like a Cheshire cat while Shibisu was still passed out. Bam seemed to have gotten closer to Khun, resting his shoulder against the bluenette. Hatz was the only normal one in their group Ehwa surmised.

“How much money did she give you?” Khun smiled.

“Why do you care?” Ehwa asked?

“I was just wondering what amount of money-” Hatz and Bam both moved to block his mouth but he dodged their hands and finished his sentence “got her special services.” Ehwa saw nothing but red and raised her hand. The next day Ehwa had her pay halved for assaulting a customer with a tray.

#tower of god #tog #fanfic time #yes im still shipping ehwa and elaine #and no you cant stop me

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shianhygge-imagines · 5 years

Text

Silver Rose [Vergil/Reader] {Devil May Cry} Nero

AN: Ahem... confession I’ve never personally played dmc4... Nero’s personality is based off of what I’ve seen of dmc4 on YT and from dmc5.

So, hopefully this isn’t too off the mark.

Still getting it together with the jet lag, if I’m being completely honest. I slept through an entire day just to fix it a little. And I’m still waking up and falling asleep at odd hours.

|Masterlist Link| |First Chapter| |Prev. Ch.| --- |Next Ch.|

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

“Come on, Y/N! You know you want to!” Dante teased, while dragging you through the streets of Fortuna. Somehow, your brother in law had managed to drag you from the confines of your room to another city almost completely isolated from the rest of society.

At first, you’d been under the impression that Morrison had given the two of you a new job. Dante had practically burst into your room that morning with a bright grin, chattering about how the two of you had a lot to get done in the next few days. That “we’ll be set for a few months.” So, thinking that it was a high paying job for once, you’d practically flown out of bed to get ready for a rewarding mission. You’d been suspicious of Dante insisting that you ride along with him on his bike, but you’d let it go on account of Dante giving you the puppy eyes that made you incapable of carrying a grudge against him. It had taken you half a day of traveling before you’d started to read the road signs along the highway. All seemed fine until you’d read, “Fortuna - 30 miles away,” and you’d promptly screamed at Dante, who, like always, laughed at your expense. You had reluctantly agreed to wanting to meet Nero, but you didn’t think that Dante would spirit you away the very next day.

It was at that point that you realized why Dante had been so insistent on you not taking your own bike. He didn’t want you trying to run away. No matter how much you argued, Dante didn’t stop the bike the rest of the way to Fortuna. And it wasn’t like you could simply jump off a motorcycle that was going 130mph.

“This is humiliating, Dante!” You cried, digging your boot heels into the cobblestone ground as Dante dragged you backwards through the streets. If was a fact that the two of you looked ridiculous to the people of Fortuna, and you could almost hear them whisper about the rowdy outsiders.

“Well, it wouldn’t be humiliating if you’d. Just. COOPERATE!!” Dante grunted, giving a hard yank with his arms wrapped around your waist. The leather on his coat sleeve gave a protesting squeak.

“You can’t make me do this!” The protest left your mouth along with a loud yelp at suddenly being yanked.

“You’re a grown ass woman, Y/N!”

“And as a grown ass woman, I can make my own decisions!”

“Well, you sure ain’t acting like one! Stop being a coward!”

“I’M NOT A COWARD!”

“YES, YOU ARE!”

“NO, I’M NOT!”

“YES.”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“NO!”

“WHAT ARE YOU SO SCARED FOR?”

“I AIN’T GOING TO BE A REPLACEMENT!”

…..

“…What?”

Your answering grumble was enough of a sign for Dante to turn you around in his arms, forcing you to either stare at his chest, or his face. You weren’t normally this unreasonable. “Y/N… what’s really bothering you?”

“… I’m scared that he won’t like me trying to play at being his mother, Dante.” You whispered, wanting to disappear in a hole at all the stares being directed at the two of you. If Nero was anything like his father or uncle, then he was the type to dislike being underestimated. “I don’t want to just pop into his life after eighteen or so years and be like, ‘Hey! I’m your stepmother, I’ve come to support you!’ What if he thinks that I’m pitying him?”

“Y/N… you don’t have to be his mother. Just… be there for him. Nero’s not the kind of person to just take charity, but he’s also not the type to dislike a person upon meeting them.” Dante sounded so sure of himself as he reassured you, but you still fidgeted from the nervousness.

“I… I’ll go see him, but if Nero finds my presence annoying, then I’m out. I just want…” You didn’t finish your sentence as you toyed with the necklace around your neck. I just want a family, again. You didn’t have to voice the last bit, the suddenly somber glint in Dante’s eyes told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“You know… maybe you should let me come to my own conclusion before you start worrying.” A playfully annoyed voice suggested from behind. An embarrassing squeak left your lips as you spun around to confront the voice’s owner, indignant at being caught unaware.

The first thing that caught you off guard was the chin length white hair, still so striking even after spending years in the company of the twin Sons of Sparda. He was young, but he was tall, almost as tall as Dante, if not a few inches shorter, and you had to tilt your head to look him in the face. It was like a slap to the face with how similar he looked to Vergil, and you found yourself taking an involuntary step backwards in shock. He had the same blue eyes that made your legs weak, stubborn, passionate sapphire eyes so much like his father’s. But that self-assured smirk was without a doubt something that Dante shared with the young man. Without a doubt, the young man that stood before you was Nero.

A silence settled over the three of you until Dante broke the silence. “Hey, Nero! Long time no see! How have you been, kid?” Your eyes narrowed at your brother in law… real smooth, Dante. Real smooth.

“We just saw each other two days ago, Dante. Not much has changed since.” Nero’s expression was absolutely blank as he pointed this fact out to Dante. It was true enough, which probably made Nero very suspicious of Dante’s sudden return with a stranger nonetheless. The young man’s eyes flickered to look you over before he directed the next question towards you. “So what brings you to Fortuna?”

“We were actually looking for you, Nero.” You winced at how uncomfortable you sounded.

Nero spread out his arms briefly as he spoke, “Well, here I am. What did you need that warranted coming back so quickly? The city’s still in ruins you know?”

“Actually,” Dante started, raising a finger to the sky, “how did you find us so quickly?”

Nero blinked once… twice… three times before using his thumb to point backwards at the large estate behind him. “You were both making a ruckus outside of the orphanage… and I live in that orphanage.”

You lifted a hand to smack Dante on the back of his head and turned to glare at him. “So your plan was to drag me kicking and screaming across Fortuna until Nero found us?! What kind of shitty plan was that!”

“Ow! Hey! Y/N! At least it worked!” Dante protested when you tried to hit him again, pointing at the much younger man. “Worked like a charm! He found us!”

“Yeah, after half of Fortuna pointed and stared at us!” You threw your arms up in exasperation before promptly burying your face in your hands and muttering, “Ugh. I’m so not ready for this.”

“Uh. Dante? You going to introduce us?” Nero chimed in, a smirk on his face as he crossed his arms, waiting patiently for the two of you to get your acts together.

Dante gave an easy grin as he hauled you up from your hunched and embarrassed position, spinning you around and draping his left arm strategically over your shoulders so that you couldn’t lift your arms to hide your face. You shot your brother in law an indignant scowl when he proceeded to poke your cheek with his index finger. “This particular ball of pint sized sunshine… is Y/N. She’s my sister.” At this, your cheek twitched from how unbelievable this lie was.

Nero, for his part, looked equally unimpressed, and shifted his weight to lean on one foot. “Right. You don’t resemble one another at all.”

“She’s adopted?” Dante explained, sounding unsure of himself as he shrugged. “Anyways, I thought I’d bring her here to help with the relief effort. Y/N’s a bit of a do-gooder and likes to look after people.”

Oh, how you wanted to strangle Dante. You weren’t pint-sized and you sure as hell were not a do-gooder. If anything, Dante’s the do-gooder with how often he doesn’t accept payment for his jobs. Deciding that you’d deal with Dante’s lame explanations later, you slapped a friendly smile on your face and offered your right hand for a handshake, “Nice to meet you, Nero. Dante wouldn’t shut up about you.”

For a brief moment, Nero’s blue eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and your offered hand, and you knew that you were being sized up. After a few seconds, Nero’s thin lips curved into a boyish grin and he took your hand in his, giving a gentle but firm shake. “I appreciate the help, Ms. Y/N.”

Before you could respond that Nero didn’t have to add a title to your name, a shock seemed to run up both of your arms, and the two of you promptly released each other’s hands. By your side, Totsuka hummed in recognition at the familiar presence, and Nero’s demonic arm started to glow. Nero’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at you, “Who are you, Y/N?”

“I… uh… think it’s better if we talked about this in private, Nero.” Dante suggested, getting in close to Nero and whispering, “Y/N’s connected to the Yamato.”

The younger man seemed to recoil at the mention of the Yamato, confusion plastered on his face as he glanced at your own bewildered face. “Yeah, fine, we’ll talk in the garage.” With a small wave to follow, Nero pulled away from Dante and began to stroll towards the large ornate building behind him, pulling open the nearly demolished black gate to lead the two of you through.

It might have been a very beautiful orphanage at one point, if not for the rubble that littered the property. You thought that perhaps at one point, children might have spent their time running around the large lawn, noticing the various tire swings decorating the larger trees and the metal playground. There were definitely still children living in the orphanage, as you could see their little faces peaking out at you from the orphanage windows, but you guessed that it was still too dangerous for them to be playing outside.

Around the side of the orphanage was a less ornate structure attached to the building. The garage seemed to have been a side thought to the entire structure, only added because of convenience from the looks of how bland it was.

It was only after the three of you were inside the garage that Nero turned around and demanded, “Okay. What the hell is going on?”

Dante made the expression that he normally used when he was about to start spouting nonsensical information, so you kindly stepped up to cover his mouth. “My husband was the previous owner of the Yamato.”

Nero blinked for a moment before looking down at his still glowing arm, “You’re not here to take it back, right?”

You shook your head, hand still firmly on Dante’s mouth. “No. I’d imagine the only way to retrieve the Yamato would be to cut your arm off.” When Nero defensively hid his arm from your view, you chuckled and shook your head. “Besides, the Yamato tends to be attracted to its owner’s next of kin.”

“Next of kin?” Nero muttered before something seemed to click in his head, “Wait, so does that mean my father is…”

“My husband, yes.” You confirmed, looking as uncomfortable as Nero was.

“Then… are you my mother?” You didn’t know if it was hope, anger, or sadness that made Nero’s voice tremble just the slightest.

You shook your head sadly, “I’m not, Nero.”

“But if you’re not my mother, then… oh.” Realization dawned on him at the circumstance to his birth and suddenly the boy looked pained, “I’m sorry.”

You managed a grateful smile, your hand dropping from Dante’s mouth. “You’re a sweet boy, Nero. I’m sorry that I didn’t come find you sooner. It must have been difficult without parents.”

“I wasn’t alone, though.” Nero’s blue eyes lit up from memories of happy times, “I had Credo and Kyrie to help me. I… uh… do you want to meet Kyrie, Ms. Y/N?”

You nodded the affirmative and moved to follow Nero into the main house, “I’d love to, Nero. And you don’t have to call me Ms.”

“Then, what do I call you?”

“Just Y/N is fine, Nero.”

“Y/N, then.”

….

“Seriously, guys? You just forgot about me?”

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

Around a year later.

“Nero, behind you!” Bang!

“Thanks for the save, Mom!”

…

The two of you stood in silence at the center of a ring of ash, having killed a good handful of demons. Both of you paused in awkward silence, your eyes wide in surprise, and Nero bashfully sporting a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“I mean… uh…” Nero stuttered, trying to explain his slip up before huffing and giving up, scratching the side of his cheek, “Can I… call you that?”

“You want to call me ‘Mom?’” you wheezed, eyes burning from the overflow of emotion you sudden felt.

“I mean, if you don’t mind-”

“I don’t.” You interrupted, looking touched and determined to make this work. “I don’t mind if you call me that.”

Nero’s posture relaxed a great deal, a relieved grin appearing on his lips. “Seriously? That’s great.” The younger devil hunter gave a huge sigh, “Okay… Mom.”

You bit your lip when Nero called you his mother again. “Nero… I’m going to hug you now, okay?”

Your son’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t question your request, merely opening his arms, voice just the slightest bit hoarse as he replied, “Okay.”

Before you knew it, you had Nero in your arms, pure joy flowing through you as he hugged you back. “My son. My beautiful son.”

Did you hear that, Vergil? He wants me to be his mother. He’s our son.

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

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shianhygge #shian imagines #DMC #DMC4 #DMC5 #DMCV #devil may cry #Devil May Cry 4 #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry imagines #vergil sparda #vergil #vergil x reader #nero #nero sparda #dmc nero #dante sparda #dante #dmc dante

357 notes · View notes

wincore · 5 years

Text

chasing sunlight | ten

pairing: ghost!ten x reader

words: 6.8k

genre: ghost!au, fluff, angst

warnings: language, mentions of death

a/n: this was supposed to be a warm up fic but it got long hh sorry for any mistakes!!

You slam the door shut to your apartment in a hurry to enter. There’s nothing you want more right now than to get inside your bed, and fall into the blissful escape of sleep. The room is devoid of any lighting, other than the lights from the surrounding buildings entering through your window, and you reach out to switch them on out of habit. You drop your bag to the floor and pause before making your way to the washroom to rub off the ink that your leaking pen had decided dump on your arms.

That wasn’t the only mishap of the day—you had almost submitted the wrong document, full of less than nice doodles of your professor, accidentally dropped your phone from the top of the staircase (you’re surprised it’s still somewhat working), and you almost got run over to protect a stray cat which ultimately ignored you after a short glance of thanks.

Living in the city, sometimes you wish you had grown up elsewhere—like the seaside or the hills. But you know that the sort of comfort provided by a city as busy as yours is hard to replace. It’s all too familiar, you’ve been here long enough to be a permanent part of the picture and you can’t see yourself anywhere else.

You ignore the light tapping outside your window; even rain didn’t have an effect on you these days. You change as fast as you can and soundlessly get under your warm blankets, the tiredness in your bones lulling you to sleep.

You glare at the unusual rustling outside your bedroom door. It’s too dark and too late for you to be mentally equipped enough and get out to check what it is. Plus, you’ve watched enough crime shows to know how simply checking the noise out can turn out. Not today, murderer, you think as you pull your blankets up till they cover all but the upper part of your face. The rain has stopped, leaving your windowpanes wet and the air cool, but you can’t pay much attention to it. The rustling continues amidst your lack of action, getting louder in fact. You groan softly and open your eyes.

Turns out, living alone means you have to go check out the noise; to make sure it’s not a stray animal or rodent, or other reasons. You know you keep telling your friends you want to die every day; but when you’re faced with this sudden possibility of death, there you are making sure you don’t do anything sudden, making sure your heart isn’t beating too loud. What the fuck does a robber want from your stupid apartment?

Fear laces your silent footsteps, as you grudgingly make your way to your bedroom door. You don’t switch on the lights—you don’t want a murderer or robber to get aggressive if they know you’re awake or something. You wait till your eyes adjust to the darkness, till you can somewhat grasp the situation.

The figure in your living room is darker than its surroundings. It looks like a guy with a fairly lean frame, and he continues shuffling around the couch. You watch quietly as you try to make out what exactly he’s trying to do, or if he’s taken anything. You breathe softly in fear of getting caught and while this is your place and he should be the one afraid of being caught, you still can’t help but wonder why anyone would ever bother robbing you, a college student who barely has anything in their pale apartment.

You let out a mild noise when a pair of eyes shifts its focus onto you. This is it, you think, this is how I die. But there’s something about him—there’s something strange, different about him, something that tells you he won’t harm you, something soft.

You turn on the lights to see a boy about your age, wearing a rather ordinary attire consisting of a beige sweatshirt and dark pants, and a bright red baseball cap covering dark tousled hair. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he scans your face, possibly for some sign of response you don’t greet him with. You feel less afraid after you see him—he looks just like any other guy, he could be in your college for all you know, and the innocence on his face provokes you to be bolder.

“Who are you?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“M-me?” his response comes meeker than you expected.

“Yeah, you’re the one in my apartment!”

“Your- your apartment? Oh, please,” he scoffs.

“What?”

“Well, technically, I owned this apartment before you did.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, more confused than ever, “Leave before I call the police.”

“Sheesh, you have no respect for the dead.”

Before you can ask what he’s on about, he makes his way towards you abruptly, startling you in the process. You take a step back, growing increasingly worried and he stops when he’s barely a few steps away from you. He stretches his arm towards you and nods his head, signalling you to come over.

When you don’t move, he sighs and adds, “Look, I couldn’t hurt you even if I tried. Plus, it’s getting a little weird standing with my arm out like this.”

You raise an eyebrow and gulp before making your way towards him reluctantly.

“Give me your hand,” he says.

You do as he says after a moment of hesitation and your eyes widen when your hand passes right through his, meeting the cold emptiness of air instead of a warm palm.

“H-huh?” you manage to ask.

“Boo! I’m a ghost,” he says with a lopsided grin.

That was not a good idea on his part because the entire chain of events is so weird, you get the desperate need to take a seat back and revaluate everything. You slump down to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and the boy looks momentarily worried at your discomposure.

“You’re…a ghost,” you drawl out.

“Yes. Sorry if I startled you, though. I haven’t spoken to a human in so long,” he crouches down beside you.

“Ah” is all you manage. Well, it’s a lot to process but you think you can somehow come to terms with it. Adult life is weird enough already. But, you think, ghosts are a little unheard in the midst of urban civilisations and concrete-engulfed lives, where the streets are so animated that the dead could never fit in the picture. You snap your head towards him, startling him, and try placing your hand against his chest. It passes clean through again and you breathe out in sync with the dawning realization. Of course you’d find a ghost in your apartment during your busiest semester.

You remember the landlady warning you about this apartment room in particular. They all said it was cursed, haunted; that anyone who moved in was compromising their life. But did that stop you from getting the cheapest apartment near your campus? Of course not.

“I’m Ten,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Uh, I’m—”

“I already know. I’ve been here since before you moved in.”

“What the fuck?”

“No need to be rude.”

You gape at him before finding the right words to form your sentence. “So you’ve been here like a creep, watching everything I do?!”

“No. Well, maybe sometimes I accidentally saw you change- but that wasn’t on purpose!”

“Oh my god,” you hug yourself, the blood rushing to your cheeks. “You are a creep!”

“I’m a ghost. I said I didn’t mean to!”

You huff before turning the other way. You get up and he follows your movement, standing up to his full height.

“What else have you seen?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for,” he tilts his head and pretends to think. “Do you mean like the times you dance around in your underwear to pop mu—”

“Ahh!” you yell and gesture wildly to get him to shut up before he embarrasses you further.

Ten grins before attempting to reassure you, “At least I won’t tell anyone. You know, since I’m dead.”

“Literally how does that help?”

He shrugs before moving over to your couch and falling onto it. You stand in place and look at him with your mouth slightly agape, still not comprehending how he’s so casual about everything. You always imagined ghosts to be at least a little bit more serious, if not total angst lords. But the boy on your couch—well, he’s just a boy, a boy who doesn’t seem like he could be full of destructive emotions like resentment or regret.

“See? I don’t even sleep on your bed,” his voice rings out.

You don’t know how that’s something he should be praised for. But he looks so harmless, you’re not sure how to react. When you think about it, he’s pretty much like a normal college student except for being, you know, dead apparently. Moreover, he doesn’t seem like a bad guy despite what you’ve seen so far of his rather snarky personality and you assume that if he’s lived with you all this while without doing anything resembling a ghost-like evil, he can’t be all that bad.

You go back to sleep mumbling an awkward ‘good night’ to Ten, wondering if he’d still be there in the morning.

A few weeks are more than enough to make you realize that you are in a regrettable sort of situation—that Ten alone is enough to make the devil proud. He doesn’t stop being a nuisance to you when you’re home, he talks louder if you ask him to be quiet, likes spooking you in the middle of the night and he barely lets you complete your assignments or do anything on your own for that matter with his excessive need for attention. He’s also surprisingly good at startling you—like when you once entered the apartment to Ten doing a handstand right in the middle of the room, yelling ‘Hi!’ or when he creeps up on you every time you’re trying to get a midnight snack or some cold water.

“But,” Ten whines at you typing away on your laptop, “I’m so bored.”

“Why can’t you do the things you did before you suddenly materialized?” you rub your temples.

“First of all, I didn’t materialize,” he says and moves his hand over yours to prove his point. “Secondly, you were more entertaining when you thought you were alone.”

Your ears turn red while he grins winningly, having pushed the right buttons.

“You just love attention, don’t you?” you grumble.

“Only yours, darling,” he says with a wink, making you redder than before.

Ten can’t leave the apartment, unfortunately. He needs something physical to tie himself to, to latch on, so he can keep his human sanity. He’s a lost soul otherwise, and you don’t know what lost is supposed to mean or the extent of that outcome, and Ten refuses to elaborate, so you don’t let yourself question it.

On a particularly gloomy evening, you find Ten playing with your old soft toy in your living room. It doesn’t strike you as unusual till you suddenly realize and stare at him for a few seconds.

“How are you doing that?” you knit your eyebrows together.

“Oh this?” he asks, raising the toy. “I can touch physical objects sometimes. Takes a bit of energy but I can handle it.”

You continue observing him absentmindedly playing with the artificial fur. His eyes don’t focus on anything in particular, just remain sort of glazed over while his lips are curled at the corner as if recollecting a lost memory. It’s oddly relieving to see him like this, looking more human, more real despite the translucence of his skin.

“What?” he asks when you forget to shift your gaze. “I need to feel something sometimes. I don’t want to go crazy.”

“Ah,” you nod. “Do other ghosts do this too?”

“Poltergeists live off this. That’s why they’re so dark,” Ten wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“Dark?”

“Yeah. The more energy you use, the more you try to interact with this world, the darker you get.”

“Oh,” you rub your arm awkwardly. “That’s kind of scary.”

Ten smiles brightly. “Aren’t you glad you have me?”

You are. You wouldn’t admit it to him, but you really are.

Ten’s latest hyper-fixation has been trying to get you to take him to the new art museum that opened a few days ago. He sits on the floor beside you, as the late afternoon transitions to a reddish orange evening, whining continuously as you try to focus on your assignment due this Friday (keyword: try).

“Ten. Stop,” you finally turn to him. “Why would I go with you to some art museum instead of focusing on an assignment that makes for half my grades?”

“Uh, because I’m cute?”

“Th- that’s not a valid reason,” you say, your ears turning red at the puppy look Ten is giving you.

“Okay, okay,” he begins, “how about we go out this weekend?”

“Okay,” you nod, turning back to your work.

“Yes!” Ten punches the air and gets up before beaming at you. “I haven’t been outside in so long,” he adds softly, the look in his eyes outrageously pure.

You feel a pang of guilt as you realize that he might have been stuck in this apartment for God knows how long—possibly since he…died. And you gain a newfound sympathy for him, thinking that perhaps you should have been nicer, despite his tendency to infuriate you so easily. Truth is, you want to know more about him, but the words wouldn’t ever come out. You couldn’t even ask him how he died, worried you might offend him or bring up something awful. You fall asleep with your head against your desk instead of completing your assignment, plagued by your curiosity surrounding Ten growing way out of proportion.

You wake up to darkness, only broken by the city lights that breach through the window, and the warmth of your coat laid delicately over your shoulders. With a strangled gasp, you check your phone to find a bright 1:04 displayed on your lockscreen. Your unprecedented nap might have left you weirdly reenergized but it made space for a familiar anxiety to settle in.

You leave your work after barely completing one-fourth of it, when you realize the absence of your usual companion. You turn on the lights in the living room, but Ten isn’t there. He’s not in the kitchen either—he’s barely in the kitchen, complaining why he should even be there if he can’t eat. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere you can see him, and you figure he must have retreated into wherever he goes when he’s not hanging around you; to the place he possibly goes to think, to be himself. The curiosity that started as a little spark slowly starts to grow into a dancing candle-lit flame when you can’t help but think more and more about Ten, who you would dare to call a friend if only you knew.

You suddenly want to know what his favourite ice cream flavour was (even if he can’t have them now) or what he likes to do when it rains. You want to know what he was like at school or if he has a favourite TV show, or if he likes the smell of fall leaves. You barely know anything about him; and it’s not entirely your fault either when Ten didn’t like sharing anything too personal or closely related to his past. It could be hurting him, so you laid off. Ten is hard to read—he acts a certain way one moment and he completely changes the next. Sometimes you think he has fifteen different personalities at once. You feel a tug at the edge of your heart now, wishing you knew more.

You wander off to the roof, trying to organize the muffled mess in your mind. City lights still shine bright after midnight if it’s a big city. You can see neon signs and billboards in the distance, and skyscrapers sprinkled with orderly lights from each room, looking like lines of stars wrapped around each building. They look small and insignificant now, but they loom over you each time you walk through the streets, blocking the skies and the sunlight to leave shadows of a manmade world. There are tiny cars on the highway far off and the warm glow of the street lamps doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You like to think that every little light in the city has a story of its own.

You’re a little startled by the figure clearing his throat next to you. Ten looks at you with questioning eyes when you regain your composure and smile at him. You don’t know why you’re so glad to have found him but you let it show with a sudden smile. He smiles back, a little unsure, and asks, “You like coming here too, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you nod and make your way towards the concrete railing, Ten trailing right behind you.

You lean on the rail, your chin resting on your arms and let yourself be calmed by the numerous lights of your city, spread as if an artist had splattered paint over his canvas. Whenever you come up here, you wonder the same thing again and again. Here you are, at the heart of the city, yet you have never bothered to explore the intricacies of its veins and arteries. There are tall buildings, short buildings, coloured ones and pale ones; and all of them look like they’re part of some maze, beckoning you to come play through the streets in between. But you have no time; you let yourself have no time.

“Do you like the lights?” you ask Ten.

“Why else would I come here?” he smiles.

And that’s how the conversation starts. Ten likes matcha ice cream, and he likes to draw when it rains. He says feels awkward touching people so for him it’s not all that bad being a ghost—you’re pretty much alone and don’t have to go through awkward friendships. He really likes kittens too, and he wishes he could pet them; that’s the main downside of being a ghost stuck in a world full of so many kittens.

“You were a dance major?” you ask, your eyes widening.

“What? I don’t look it?” A half-smile is plastered across his face.

Before you can respond, he motions to you to play a song. You find one after scrolling through your playlist for a whole minute, shaking a little with the night breeze hitting your face.

Ten moves right at the first beat. He moves his arm, and his head and then his legs. It’s like watching an orchestra perform for the first time—wholesome and satisfying. The stars and the moon look at him as delighted as you do, following each flow and bend. And as beautiful as Ten’s movement is, you can’t help but shift your focus to how happy he looks. There’s an involuntary smile on his face and you find yourself beaming, too, as he continues painting with his movement. For him, it’s as easy as you breathing.

Ten tilts his head at you when the song stops and you pause for a moment to take him in before bursting into applause.

“That was amazing!” you say. Amazing didn’t even cut close but you don’t know a better word either.

“I- uh, thanks,” he laughs.

You end up sitting with your back pressed against the concrete, sitting beside Ten and just…talking. He has his legs sprawled in front of him as he tries to recall the face of his awful high school math teacher, contorting his own into a horrendous expression to make you laugh.

Ten hasn’t felt this normal in so long. He hesitated talking to you about what really matters to him because what even is the point? It’s not like you’ll understand, or help him somehow. Besides, it’s difficult to get the right words to come out or let the fear in his still heart subside when trying to convey something so serious. It never felt right and you couldn’t give him time either.

But now, when you look at him so attentively, like he’s not a side character, a faded presence, like he matters, he feels a swell in his lungs, spilling everything he’s been carrying alone for so long. When you talk to him, he feels like a friend, a human—still alive and tangled in the web of life. He suddenly feels connected again, and a warmth spreads across his chest in a gentle blaze; a flame that had faded to darkness a long time ago.

When Ten sees your head drop as you remember your assignments, he decides, Okay. That’s it.

“Wh—”

“Come on! Let’s go,” he insists, wildly waving his arms to emphasize.

“I can’t go out in my pyjamas,” you deadpan.

“The city doesn’t care,” he scoffs before disappearing behind the door.

While you stay frozen, contemplating whether to act upon Ten’s wishes or not, he pokes his head back in and flashes his dazzling smile at you—and you find yourself locking your apartment door a few minutes later (having changed into appropriate clothes of course).

“Wow, I’m really going outside,” he smiles. There it is again, that expression of his that makes you want to stop being so restrictive and agree to him, whatever he says.

Ten runs faster than you think and you have to push yourself to keep up as he disappears and reappears in between the crowds littering the streets. He looks back at you occasionally, a wide smile adorning his face as his eyes reflect the warm lights from the streetlamps and windows of giant buildings.

It’s a little strange how you forget any sort of darkness when you’re with Ten. He stands on the sidewalk, admiring the large LCD screens of the billboards on top of buildings advertising something insignificant to either of you. His head turns to follow the cars, the people, sometimes stopping at the barely noticeably trees; you follow his gaze to notice the lined-up stores displaying the lucky colours of red, and a sprinkle of gold, for the upcoming new year celebrations. But even if it is a new year, it won’t matter to Ten. He won’t grow older or have anything to look forward to, and you wonder how he holds on in such a depressing situation.

And of course, Ten has to ruin any strand of sympathy you hold for him. He waits in front of you while you catch up and when you look at him, the crinkle in his eyes is obvious. He points to a rat on a bleak poster advertising pest extermination and calmly says, “Hey, that’s you!”

You glare at Ten while he cackles at his own unfortunate sense of humour and wish you could actually whack him. It’s not his actions but the fact that it’s done deliberately just to annoy you that gets on your nerves sometimes.

You step inside a convenience store with the sudden onset of rain. It’s not a heavy downpour but only a light shower that you’ll survive, but something tells you to get in, and not walk back home in the rain. You purchase some cup noodles just for the heck of it, and while it warms, Ten does a happy sort of dance outside the glass. Rain doesn’t affect him, at least not physically, (“It’s not raining in the spirit realm.” “Like that makes a lot of sense to me.”) and he continues his silly tap dance till he tires of it to join you inside.

The showers stop by the time you get your meal (if you could call instant noodles a meal) and you sit outside at one of the little benches with Ten beside you.

“Is that spicy?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you respond.

“Bet I could have stuff spicier than that.”

“Sure, Ten.”

Ten gives you a look before tilting his head onto your shoulder. If strangers could see him too, you’d look like lovers on a midnight walk. The thought itself makes you blush and when Ten notices the pink, he quirks an eyebrow, no doubt planning to say something stupid.

“I know I’m really good-looking but are you bl—”

“Let’s go home!” you stand up a little too abruptly, startling Ten.

Your pace is quicker than normal, as your brain goes ‘no, no, no!’ at the idea that has inevitably attached itself to an obscure part of your mind. Whatever demons were dancing on your shoulders needed to leave before you let yourself think something stupid, before Ten could find yet another reason to make fun of you.

“Race ya!” Ten’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts as he dashes past you, looking at you for a brief moment to make sure you’re following him.

And that’s how you reach the apartment red-faced, your chest heaving up and down, struggling to take out your keys. You enter to beeline towards the kitchen and chug a cold bottle of water.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to breathe,” you point a finger at Ten.

He smiles faintly and responds with a “Yeah, I guess” before proceeding to sit on the floor in front of your couch. You join him and the silence that follows isn’t an uncomfortable one but you would more aptly describe it as a warm, quiet embrace.

You tilt your head back to rest it on the couch and Ten copies your posture. You look at Ten right when he looks at you, resulting in an embarrassed smile on your part. But Ten doesn’t care as a happy smile forms on his rosy lips and you get the sudden urge to move the hair out of his eyes, to touch his cheeks, feel the material of his sweatshirt, truly comprehend his being.

“You know, you’re not all that boring,” Ten says with an impish smile, and raises his arm towards you in a motion that would be considered petting your hair if he had any physical impact whatsoever.

“I would say you’re not that annoying but that would be lying,” you roll your eyes.

He shapes his lips into an exaggerated pout. His eyes occasionally flicker under the dim lights and you find yourself falling a little deeper into his reality. Is it ironic that Ten is so full of life? That he’s brought more colours and lights into your world than you had ever imagined possible?

There’s a sudden thump from the floor above you that snaps you both out of your trance and Ten squeaks, snapping his head into position. You look at him, amused.

“You’re pretty easily scared for a ghost,” you say.

“I wasn’t scared, I was just startled,” he glares.

You want to laugh and pat his shoulder, like friends do—but you don’t have an ordinary friendship. You can’t hit his arm while you’re laughing or pull his cheeks to annoy him, or grab his hand to drag him through crowds, or share food with him. You can’t hug each other when you’re happy or for reassurance, you can’t do silly things like styling his hair into something funny or paint his face. You can’t even be normal friends, let alone anything more.

It just doesn’t work that way and you find yourself getting lost in thought more and more till you lose focus and sleep takes control of your body.

When weeks turn into months, your awful semester finally ends on an okay note, but you and Ten are still the same; though the frequency of your midnight strolls has increased. It leaves the both of you a little happier, a little brighter. However, it does bring you to a dilemma of the heart that you would rather bury till even you forgot about it.

“Why don’t I see other ghosts?” you ask Ten, sprawled across your bed on a Saturday afternoon.

“Because I’m special?”

You throw a pillow at him fully aware that it’ll pass right through.

“Okay, okay,” he begins, “I guess it’s because they don’t really wanna be seen?”

“But you do?”

Ten keeps quiet, leaning against your bedroom wall with his eyes closed. The fine line between the shadows and the orange sunlight on the buildings outside your window waned as the sun sank further. You move your eyes to notice the golden sunlight falling on Ten’s face, illuminating the curve of his nose, his cupid’s bow and chin, and at times like this, he looks like something only an artist can dream up. At times like this, when he’s perfectly peaceful, he doesn’t look real, doesn’t look like he ever belonged to this world.

When the silence starts to get uncomfortable, Ten stands back up straight and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“Can we go to the art museum?”

“Like now?”

“No, in the evening maybe?”

You hesitate before agreeing, wondering why he wanted to visit that all of a sudden. It’s not like you’re against it, but it’s on the other side of the city and travelling can be really tiring sometimes. You don’t want to say no to Ten though; you’re finding it increasingly difficult to these days. He seems to be more pensive, barely responding to anything sometimes, and you’re worried something is wrong. That something inevitably bad is going to happen.

Ten rubs his forehead, sitting alone on your couch while you’re at the grocery store. He would have gone with you and he very well knows you would have let him. What is he doing? He can’t think straight, can’t focus on anything and he’s so miserably afraid he’s going to lose himself, lose his memories and thoughts that he doesn’t let himself talk to you as much as he wishes. He’s not allowed to do this—look at you like that, or feel the warmth in his chest. He’s supposed to be despondent and alone in this cage of a world he lives in.

Ten begrudgingly admits that because of you he wants to feel. The urge to touch, to be in contact with your physical reality grows day by day. He can’t even see in full colour like he used to when he was alive, and he’s desperate to see the pink of your lips and cheeks, the warmth of your skin in vibrant shades. He embarrasses himself with these thoughts and while they give him a reason to smile, he doesn’t want to lose himself in the darkness.

“Are you sure it’s here?” you whisper to Ten.

“You just saw it on your phone.”

“I’m really bad with directions,” you complain.

“I know.”

You glare at Ten but quickly sigh in relief when you see the large building in the distance. It’s appearance is minimalistic as if to say ‘you can come here but only if you want’ and you find it more pleasant than the heavily decorated buildings you would usually find in the area.

Ten takes longer to look at the exhibits than you, each one of them sending him into a new spiral of thoughts. You wait for him with your hands behind your back as you scrutinize what exactly captivated him so much, what he really saw.

The art museum isn’t what you thought art museums were like either. Each hallway has a theme, and when you enter a new one, you’re plunged into a new world. The breath leaves your lips in a gasp when the next hallway you enter is in complete darkness. You wait till your eyes adjust and you start seeing the even darker paint on the walls. When you walk further, you find paint that glows in the dark. Ten looks at the meaningless splatters of light amused while you’re lost in thoughts entirely your own.

You know ghosts are creatures of the dark (if you could call them creatures, that is); they’re not supposed to have any consciousness or morality. But here, surrounded by this artificial darkness, Ten is what shines the most. From his eyes brimming with an unknown delight, to the curve of his nose to the languid smile stretching across his pink lips, everything glows with a warmth you wouldn’t expect from the dead. No, the dead don’t glow, neither do angels or whatever souls are likened to be.

The last hallway you enter is labelled ‘Art imitates Life’ in classic cursive. It doesn’t have any paintings; it’s just full of windows letting you glimpse at the world outside. The sunset paints all of these ‘paintings’ a bright red, and it mixes perfectly with the fading blue, the city below adding to the depth.

There are two mirrors, one on each side of the exit, and you think it’s meant as a compliment. But you don’t see Ten in the mirrors as he stands beside you but he refuses to look, keeping his head down while he walks out.

The walk to the subway station is quiet, eerily so and you wish Ten would say something, anything at all. But he doesn’t and you’re left with unspoken words that should have been spoken.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask when you’re inside the safety of your apartment.

Ten hesitates before nodding, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt.

“I…I don’t know what’s happening lately. It’s like I feel everything and nothing at once.”

Your expectant silence urges him to continue.

“I miss my family,” he says, “but sometimes I can’t remember these details I should and it’s so terrifying- it’s like I’m getting lost and I don’t like- It’s like- like I’ll forget myself and I’ll really- I’ll really be gone.”

You don’t say anything, you can’t say anything as you fight the urge to take him in your arms when he’s like this, when he sounds so broken and confused.

“I’m so afraid,” he says, placing his face in his hands.

“I’m here for you,” you mumble despite the muddled thoughts in your brain.

“My legs hurt,” you grumble as you sit on the couch beside Ten. He looks a lot lighter after crying his heart out, enough to flash you a bright grin letting you know he’s okay.

“You’re so unhealthy you forgot how to walk,” Ten replies offhandedly.

You turn your head to glower at him and swat at his head, and in the sudden moment of contact, you are unsure of how to retaliate. You hold your hand, which turned red from the impact, with your other while Ten clutches his head, his face wrinkled in pain.

After the initial confusion subsides, you look at each other in a whole other level of confusion.

“How did you do that?” you ask at the same time.

“I didn’t do anything!” Ten responds quickly.

“Well, I didn’t do anything either,” you lean back.

Ten’s hand shakes noticeably as he lifts it up and you are quick to bring your own hand to hold his. His fingers are an icy cold, quite like how you imagined them to be, but you still suck in a sudden burst of air at the contact. You steady his hands first, intertwining your fingers slowly till you’re sure your warmth reaches him. When he still sits frozen, like he hasn’t understood what’s going on yet, you press his hand to your heated cheek and he breathes out slowly, as if he still has air in his lungs.

Ten leans in when he regains consciousness of his surroundings. It doesn’t seem real, it’s like he’s trapped in a dream but he swears it’s probably the best one he’s had since he died. Your lips are warm, so warm he can almost feel you breathe the joy of life back into him. He pulls away for an instant to look at the innocence in your eyes before leaning back into you, your warmth, your presence. He cups your cheeks for a better grasp and you shiver at the touch. He almost feels guilty but he’s allowed to have this, right? He’s allowed to feel, right? He didn’t choose to leave, he didn’t choose any of this—so he’s allowed these strange appearances of luck, right?

Ten’s lips are as comforting as they are cold, and you never felt exhilaration of this sort as you let him press his mouth to yours, enjoying the touch as much as he does. When he places a gentle finger on the back of your neck, the other hand on your waist, you gasp and his tongue winds against yours with undulating pressure while the beating in your heart gets louder.

Ten doesn’t speak to you for almost a week after the kiss. You don’t know how to approach him, where to approach him, and it devours you completely from the inside. When you do catch a glimpse of him, he escapes before you can come up with anything to say. The lack of his presence is unsettling as you try desperately to make amends to a tear that’s invisible you.

You surprise Ten when you clutch onto the sleeves of his sweatshirt. His eyes widen at the contact and when he tries to tug himself away from you, you pull him closer.

“Ten. Speak.”

A garbled sort of noise comes from Ten’s throat when he tries to speak and he turns the other way, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Ten,” you urge.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m so scared.”

You pull him closer to wrap your arms around his torso, your warm breath tickling his cheek as you look at him. He looks conflicted, as though he should be doing something he isn’t but you don’t pressure him further.

“It’s my fault,” he whispers, “that’s the only way.”

“What?”

Ten pushes you away to hold you by the shoulders, and although his motion is gentle, you feel the absence of touch painful.

“What if I’m killing you?” he says, “What if you’re dying because of me and that’s why all this is happening?”

You shake your head, “No. That can’t be.”

“It is!”

“Ten, listen to me. It doesn’t matter. If this is happening without reason, it’s meant to happen.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ten says with a cynical twist of his lips.

“Ten, please.”

“You think you’re the only one in pain?”

You keep quiet at that. You could never comprehend what Ten went through, what Ten is going through. You can’t comfort him because you don’t know.

Ten lightly places his fingers on your cheek and rubs his thumb in circles.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, “I want to kiss you again and again and again—”

Ten’s breath hitches in his throat as he tries to control the heaving in his chest. He can’t actually breathe, he’s not alive and burning like you—it’s just hard to break out of habit. Ten meets eyes with you, finding the same comforting candlelit flames and he cups your face once more.

You lean in this time; his lips are warmer than before and you press your mouth against his harder, knotting your fingers in his hair undoubtedly messing it up. He groans softly, the sound low in his throat, but it’s not pleasure you seek from him, it’s the comfort. The comfort when he wraps his arms around you, when he kisses you slowly and delicately, when he pulls back to hear you breathe—even if it’s not going to be everlasting, you’re okay with it. You’re okay with going on midnight strolls and trips into the city with Ten, you’re okay with the friendly bickering and him teasing you till your ears are hot and red, you’re really okay if Ten is there.

“I wish it was like this forever,” Ten whispers against the crook of your neck as you run your fingers through his hair.

He’s told you a hundred times, maybe more, that the dead don’t work like the living. The living gain strength from happy things, like hopes and dreams; but the dead, they survive on darker things. That the dead could always potentially harm the living. But how could he say that when he himself exists as a stark contrast to that? When Ten is the one brimming with feelings of hopefulness and joy, and when you’re the one who seems to be holding to him for that spark.

But like you told him, it doesn’t matter. And it’ll be that way till fate decides otherwise.

520 notes · View notes

luciana-galvez · 5 years

Text

rockstars & runaways | part 5

Nikki and Kat go way back, but with his issues and her family history, finding their way back together is a long and rocky road. And with the rockstar life, what’s the hurry anyway?

Fandom: the dirt

Words: 2.4k

Pairing: nikki sixx x oc

Warnings: alcohol & cigarettes

Note: feedback is always welcome! (aka validate me lmao)

1980

The bass coming through the stereo was so deafening that Kat wondered how people had any conversations. She also wondered why the police hadn’t shown up yet.

She stood in the corner of the room, half-heartedly sipping on her beer, and watched as the other people in the living room either danced drunkenly to the music, screamed at each other in an effort to make conversation, or did lines of coke on the coffee table.

She had finally given in to showing up to one of Nikki’s parties, and so far she wasn’t having fun. She had never gone near drugs, and the drunken-partying scene had never been hers either, no matter how tempting it looked.

So tonight, she spent her time watching other people and occasionally fumbling on her clothes. Michelle, who had somehow (not unlike Nikki) managed to sneak herself into Kat’s life, had passed a few of the things she wasn’t wearing anymore off to Kat. Kat had vehemently protested, but eventually given in when Michelle wouldn’t drop it.

The clothes were a little big on her, but she had to admit that the black leather pants combined with the leopard print shirt wasn’t a bad look. It wasn’t a bad look at all.

Eventually, Kat made her way outside and fumbled for her cigarettes, just to have something to do. The outside wasn’t much better regarding the level of noise, but at least there were barely any people here and she had her peace.

She didn’t quite now why she had shown up tonight. Well, she did, but she didn’t know why she seemed so desperate to be playing with fire. She knew that, realistically, she couldn’t let anything happen with Nikki, but it felt so new and good and thrilling to even entertain the idea.

Which is why she so happily flirted with him whenever she had the chance even though her mind was constantly screaming at her to turn around and run the other direction.

She was ripped from her thoughts when the front door behind her opened up, almost hitting her in the back.

“Whoa, watch out!” she turned only to find Nikki standing in the doorway, blinking at her in surprise.

Speak of the devil.

He put the bottle of whisky he was carrying down on the porch railing, took a drag of his own cigarette that was dangling from his lips, and closed the door behind him again. “So, you showed up,” he grinned.

“I was surprised too.”

“You know you don’t have to come outside to smoke, right?”

“I know,” Kat shrugged, “but inside was getting a bit much. Did you know there’s people having sex in your bathroom?”

Nikki simply raised his shoulders and then dropped them in defeat. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“That was you?” Kat snorted. “What are you, feral? A good host knows to use his bedroom, because guests need to pee once in a while.”

Nikki grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Kat rolled her eyes and Nikki’s grin widened.

Instead of answering, he simply held out his whisky bottle for her, but she shook her head. “I don’t drink.”

When Nikki raised an eyebrow and pointed at her beer, she added, “Okay, I drink. But I don’t get drunk.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Where’s the fun in blacking out and throwing up over the railing,” Kat retorted and pointed over her shoulder, “which, funnily enough, I have seen someone do not half an hour ago.”

“Well, I can personally attest that the part before is very fun,” Nikki told her. “What do you do for fun, Kat?” he pronounced her name like it left a sour taste in his mouth, and then added: “Kat? What’s that short for anyway?”

“What do you care?”

“Kathrine?”

“No.”

“Katrina?”

“Shut up.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Will you drop it?” Kat laughed, but Nikki simply moved a bit closer to her.

“Come on, Kat. What do you do for fun?”

“I can tell you what I won’t do.”

Nikki put down the whisky and leaned in closer to her ear. “And what is that supposed to mean?” he whispered.

Kat moved her head away from him enough to look him in the eye, and she couldn’t miss the suggestion in his expression. She leaned in a little closer again and whispered back, “I’m not going to sleep with you, Nikki Sixx.”

Nikki didn’t drop a beat. “Well, that’s a shame,” he said, and then, with faster movements that Kat thought he would be capable of in his state of inebriation, he slipped his hand into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet.

“Hey!” Kat shouted. “Give that back!”

But Nikki was holding it our of her reach and before she knew it, he had pulled her driver’s license out and was scanning it thoroughly. She hated the smile that was forming on his lips.

“Katie Dawson?” he laughed with a level of glee she wished she could wipe off his face. “That is the most cliché name I’ve ever heard,” he said, but then something in his expression changed, and he glanced from the licence back to Kat, and there was a new intensity in his gaze. “…because it’s not real,” he added eventually. “Is it?”

“Nikki—”

“This is fake.”

“Nikki.”

For a moment Nikki simply eyed her with a new-found intrigue, and then he eventually handed her the license and wallet back and watched as she put them away again.

“Do you like pancakes?” he said eventually, and Kat blinked in surprise. Nikki didn’t wait for a reply, he simply turned around. “I’m dying for some pancakes. Come on, runaway” he called out as he casually jogged down the stairs to the street, and Kat was glad he couldn’t see her flinch at the word.

At the bottom of the stairs he stopped and turned around. When he found that she hadn’t moved, he rolled his eyes theatrically. “Takes one to know one,” he said, too casually, “I’m not using my real name either.”

Kat felt every hair on her body stand up at the implication. Nikki knew too much already, and she didn’t like how easily he seemed to figure out exactly where and how to push her buttons. But there was also something about him that she didn’t seem to steer away from. She didn’t know whether it was his act of anarchy or the way he seemed to genuinely not care what people thought of him, but it didn’t take her long to figure out what to do.

Against all her better instincts, she put down her beer and started following him down the stairs. “Yeah, because I never would have figured out that Nikki Sixx isn’t your real name,” she said sarcastically.

“Aaand she’s back,” Nikki grinned at her. She playfully pushed his face away when she passed him, and then they started heading down the street together.

“So, what’s your real name?” Nikki asked while trying to take a bite off his pancakes, but it fell off his fork twice before he finally managed to get it to his mouth.

“What’s your real name?” Kat rebutted.

“Frank Carlton Serafino Feranna Jr.”

“That’s a mouthful,” Kat grinned. “After your father?”

“Apparently,” Nikki shrugged. “He left when I was two. I tried calling him up once when I got to L.A.,” he took another bite and finished the rest of the sentence with his mouth full, “but he basically told me to go to hell, so that was that.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

“Seattle.”

“With your mother?”

“And a handful of charming stepfathers.”

“Assholes?”

“Grade A.”

Kat smiled. “No wonder you’re such a rebel.”

“I might be,” Nikki said and looked like he was seriously contemplating it. “I had my mother arrested when I was 14, so you might not be far off.”

Kat almost choked on her soda. “You what?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Nikki shrugged and finished the last of his pancakes. “She was bothering me, so I cut myself and told the cops it was her until she agreed to get off my back.” He held out his arm so she could see the scar.

For a moment, Kat could only stare at him in sheer amazement, but then she threw her head back and laughed. She laughed like she hadn’t laughed in a long time — loud and hearty. “That’s fucking brilliant,” she said eventually.

Nikki looked up and grinned at her reaction. “Well, I have my moments,” he shrugged it off.

Kat spend the next twenty minutes grilling Nikki about his childhood and his mother and his stepfathers, about moving to L.A. and trying to find his place and trying to find bands, and she was surprised by how willing he seemed to answer every question she threw at him.

They had paid and were on their way back when he finally shut her down. “Okay, your allotted time is over,” he said as they were walking down Sunset Strip. “My time for questions now.”

Kat glanced up at him for a moment and then directed her gaze back in front of her, but before he could start asking anything, she broke away and casually jogged across the street.

“You know, I’m just going to keep asking, no matter how many times you run away from me,” he shouted after her.

“I’m not running away,” she called back over her shoulder. “I’m just trying to get a better view.”

When Nikki didn’t seem to catch on, she pointed at the billboard promoting the new The Kinks album ahead of her. After that, she didn’t look around again to see if he was following.

“You know this is illegal, right?” Nikki seemed to have eventually caught up when Kat was already halfway up the ladder.

“Didn’t take you for the type to care,” Kat shouted down.

“Oh, I don’t,” Nikki called back with a certain cheer in his voice. “But I thought you might.”

The billboard was roughly 60 feet tall, and even though many of the surrounding buildings were just as high, there was enough of a view to be able to see the lights all the way in the Hollywood Hills. Kat had sat down with her feet dangling off the edge and a freshly lit cigarette when Nikki made his way to the top.

“This is gorgeous, isn’t it?” she asked as he sat down next to her.

“I’ve definitely seen worse,” Nikki replied and took the cigarette from Kat’s hand to take a drag.

They were silent for a moment before Kat finally turned her head to him. “You have three questions,” she told him. “And I can’t promise you that I will answer them.”

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “And you say I’m the one who’s insufferable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kat said and turned her gaze back ahead, but there was a smile on her face. “I am a delight.”

Nikki contemplated for a moment.

“How old where you when you ran?”

“15,” Kat replied honestly. “Five years ago.”

Nikki brought the cigarette to his mouth again, thinking.

“The people you ran from,” Nikki started, and Kat noticed how he circumvented her ability to deflect the truth by not speculating who she’d run from, “did they hurt you?”

Kat turned her head back to him and studied him carefully. His eyes were fixated on her, and there was an intent expression on his face, but nothing about his mannerisms seemed pushy. She decided that he was definitely too perceptive for his own good.

She took her cigarette back and took another drag, her gaze turned back to the view in front of her. “Yes,” she said eventually, and Nikki was quiet again.

It was a while before he finally asked his last question. He leaned back on his arms and sighed. “What did you mean when you said you wouldn’t sleep with me?”

Kat was so taken aback that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?” she asked. “That’s your third question?”

“Yes.”

“I figured you were going to ask me for my name.”

“And I figured you’d rather willingly walk into a chainsaw than tell me your name,” Nikki shrugged, and Kat laughed again.

“It’s true.”

“See,” Nikki said and brought two fingers to his temple, “I’m smarter than I look. Now tell me.”

“Nikki, someone has got to say no to you at some point,” Kat grinned. “Otherwise your ego is just gonna go…” she finished her sentence by raising up her hand over her head and accompanying the motion with an increasingly sharper whistling sound.

“That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard,” Nikki concluded after a moment.

“Hey, I’m doing it for you, really.”

“How noble of you.”

Kat smiled at him, but didn’t reply. Instead, she laid down on her back and started watching the stars, and it didn’t take long until Nikki followed suit.

They shared her cigarette in silence, and when it was finished, Nikki lit a second one and wordlessly passed it to Kat.

She didn’t know how long they laid there, but when Kat eventually looked back at Nikki, his eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in slow and steady intervals.

She couldn’t help but notice how much younger he looked in his sleep. His features were soft and kind, and for the first time since she had known him, Nikki looked peaceful.

Kat couldn’t look away. She was transfixed by how easy it was for him to let his guard down and fall asleep in her presence, and she desperately longed for that level of self-assurance and trust in the world.

She couldn’t help herself as she moved her hand closer to his and, after a moment’s hesitation, slowly and carefully intertwined her fingers with his. Nikki didn’t react, but Kat was glad that he didn’t. She didn’t know what made her do it, but for a moment she wondered if this was what it felt like to be at least semi-content with life.

The way her heart hammered in her chest told her it might be.

Before Nikki could wake up, Kat pulled her hand away again and instead intertwined it with her other hand and rested them on her stomach.

They stayed like that for the entire night, and when the sun came up, Nikki was still asleep.

tags: @supernaturalvikingwhore @miserablecunt @sighsophiia @fandomshit6000 @flizaa @hi-my-name-is-riley @electradestiny @starlalove @kingbouji3 @sweetshutter @baiabouk @calspixie

#the dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt fanfiction #nikki sixx #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx x reader

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changingchances · 5 years

Text

Crossing Senses Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor Part Eight

A/N: Words: 1306.

HELLLLOOOOOO LOVELIES! Part 8 is a tad bit shorter, but I wanted to get this out there before my week gets too hectic to get any writing done! Thank you all for your support and feedback! Your comments and messages truly make my day! I hope you enjoy this little itty bitty update! Much love!!!

Warnings: Brief mentions of sex (nothing explicit)

Once dressed in the clothes she’d gone to dinner in the night before, Roe and Brian leave the hotel room in search of some breakfast. According to the guitarist, there’s a whole buffet available in the lobby. Roe’s skin has been tingling for a moment, but she doesn’t look to see the lyrics. Instead, she pulls the sleeves of her sweater over her hands to hide whatever song Roger’s stuck on. It’s surreal to be able to put a face to the one responsible for the words tickling at the inside of her wrist, much more so because it’s Roger’s face.

On their way to the elevator, speak of the devil, the two of them run into the drummer. He must have left the room while Roe was still in the shower. He gives her a huge smile as they cross paths, which she doesn’t return.

“Your shirt is on the bathroom floor,” she comments, voice monotone, feigning apathy. She doesn’t mention the woman she’d run into this morning, doesn’t mention last night. Roger’s smile fades just a little, his brow pulling together in confusion at her callous tone.

“Okay, cool.” He reaches out to touch her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “You alright this morning? Last night was… rough, I imagine.” He sounds so fucking genuine, so truly concerned, that Roe’s throat tightens. This is her soulmate, standing right in front of her. Roger Taylor is her soulmate, and he’s worried about her, caring about her well-being, wanting to make sure she’s okay before he even gets back into his room, where a beautiful woman is probably out of the shower and waiting for him. The moment is almost tender, until Roe recalls said beautiful woman, and her anger is suddenly churning in her stomach again. She takes a small step away from him, just enough so that he’s no longer touching her arm, and gives him a small but convincing smile.

“I’m good.” She says quietly, rubbing gently at her wrist where the lyrics had appeared seconds before. “Sorry you had to babysit me. I was a little…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t need to. She was manic last night, an absolute mess, and as embarrassing as it was for anyone to see that in the first place, she feels a whole new kind of shame course through her at the thought that her soulmate had witnessed the worst of it.

But Roger just shakes his head. “No, don’t apologize,” his voice is quiet, dare she say compassionate. It just makes her want to end this conversation all the more. But he’s reaching for her again, pulling her into a hug. “If you ever need anything, Roe, we’ve got your back, yeah? I’m always up to ‘babysit’ if you need it.” Roe forces herself to rest her hands on his back, so as not to give away the fact that she’s angry, confused, more than half tempted to slap him across the face or tell him that she knows who his soulmate is. So, she just hugs him for a moment before stepping away.

Roe glances at Brian who’s paused a little ahead of them. She can tell by his face that he knows something is off. Roger isn’t stupid by any means, but he hasn’t been spending as much time around Roe as Brian has. He hasn’t been waking up with her in his bed for the past month. Whether or not Brain and her have an understanding about the limits of their “relationship”, it’s hard to sleep with someone as frequently as they have, be good friends, and not have at least a halfway decent read on them. So, when Brian’s face slowly contorts into some hybrid expression of suspicious concern, Roe forces another smile, making sure that it reaches her eyes.

“I’m famished. Let’s go wreak havoc on that buffet, yeah, Bri?” She intentionally walks over to him with a bounce in her gait, relieved to feel his arm wrap around her waist as they head downstairs. Things with Brian are effortless. They communicate well, there are no strings attached. They could have amazing sex one night and the next morning would feel as though she’d spent the night at a friend’s place. The psychology student in her knows that nothing ever remains this uncomplicated. She knows that what she’s doing with Brian is probably an incredibly maladaptive way of managing her commitment issues. She knows it’s probably not great for him either, and the fact that he’s just as willing to participate is probably indicative of the fact that he’s got his own issues to deal with. But as of right now, continuing like this with Brian is far easier than facing her soulmate- than facing Roger.

****

Roger isn’t an idiot. He knows that his bandmate and Roe have been seeing each other. What he doesn’t know is how serious the two of them are about each other. He’s never thought to ask Brian, because it never even crossed his mind that he may be curious. But now, a strange wave of uneasiness wells up in his chest, into his throat, and he can’t help but watch them walk to elevator. Brian’s got his arm wrapped around Roe’s waist, his fingers playing with the fabric of her shirt. Roe’s looking up at the guitarist with that damn smirk she’s always wearing. For a moment, Roger can’t help but wonder what she looked like this morning, still wearing his shirt. What would it feel like if he were the one she was giving bedroom eyes to?

He shakes those thoughts from his head as quickly as they appeared. Freddie would kill him. Hell, Roe would probably kill him too.

When he enters his suite again, he finds the woman from last night wrapped up in a towel, sitting on the couch, grinning when she sees him at the door. He doesn’t give the whole situation much thought, simply makes his way over to her and does what he does best- sex.

The woman- he thinks her name is Sharon- isn’t a bad shag by any means. She’s responsive, she’s sexy, she’s eager to please. But when she pads over to the bathroom after their little escapade and comes out wearing only the white shirt Roe had slept in, the post-orgasm glow dissipated almost immediately.

“That’s my shirt.” He states dryly. The woman- maybe it’s actually Sherry- looks up at him through her lashes and bites at her lip, smile seductive and by all means an attempt to get him going again. But it doesn’t. Instead, Roger is suddenly desperate to shower and send her on her way. She isn’t his soulmate, that was obvious from the moment he’d decided to bring her to his room last night. But his skin had been tingling the entire evening. When he hadn’t been taking care of Roe, all he could think about was what she could be doing that night. Is she the type to go out to pubs and parties in the middle of the week, or is she a weekend type of woman? Would she prefer to stay in and cook? Read? Sing and dance around the room? Does she play an instrument? Does she drink her sorrows away? Does she wonder about him as much as he does about her?

He has no clue. But he knows that whoever, wherever she is, little miss colors for songs, she is not the woman before him, donning his shirt. He feels the need to sigh, but doesn’t let it escape, instead rising from the bed and brushing past Sharon/Sherry/Cheryl to the bathroom.

“You should go now, doll. I’ll call you.” He shuts and locks the bathroom door behind him, completely aware that neither believe he will ever call her.

Taglist:

@voidfanfiction

@raveng1rl

@itsgrassy

@d-r-e-a-m-catchme

@legendsaresooftenwarnings

@armadaextra

@radioblahblahh

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #ben hardy #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy! roger taylor #bohemian rhapsody #BoRhap #Queen #queen imagine #brian may #brian may x oc #John Deacon #freddie mercury #slow burn

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taetaeby · 6 years

Text

Unnoticed

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: classmate!AU, drabble, comedy and a bit of angst

Warnings: language

Word count: 2228

Rating: 13+

Description: The thing you never noticed goes by you again, that he has something for you.

A/N: let’s just say I wanted to write something with Hobi in it and this is the result of it; hope you enjoy :)

“What are the main three things you would bring with you on a deserted island?”

The question popped up out of nowhere while you were in Geography class learning about all of the islands existent on the planet of Earth and knowing your professor, that type of question was normal to come up as he tried to be “cool” or better to say, act like it. He was really trying hard but even that wasn’t enough to be listed as the “cool professors squad” which the only member Mr. Park was, from gym class.

“Think for a moment, what would be the coolest and funkiest thing to bring with you to the middle of nowhere?” The excitement was literally written all over his face while he enlarged his previously asked question.

Nobody was quiet in the mood for this, or even for the class itself, wishing nothing more than to be either at home in their beds and sleeping through the whole school time. So to say that the classroom was dead would be too less of a description that was actually accurate. No one wanted to even try and enlighten the professor with their thoughts regarding his asked question which ended up in him choosing his “victim”.

“What about you Daniel?” At the mention of his name, Daniel snapped his head from the desk awakening from his beauty sleep and just looking like his soul was sucked out of him. “What would you take?”

“What?” The only word Daniel was able to say was also the only word he should have avoided because he just confirmed the fact that he wasn’t paying attention to the class.

“Ehh…” At a loss for words at any type of contact with the rest of the class and seeing how Daniel didn’t know what was happening, Mr. Kim sighed loudly realizing that being a “cool” person to today's generation was harder than he thought. That also included not being the mean professor who would send his students to the principal office if they behaved, well, just like almost everyone in the class did.

As he scanned the room in hopes of finding at least one person who didn’t have their head flat down on the table, his eyes stopped on no other person than you.

“Y/N.”

Your head snapped in his direction as you heard your name coming tumbling from his lips. Of all classes that you had, why did you keep your head of the table and daydream just at his when you could’ve done anything else because he wasn’t able to punish his students in any way.

“How about you answer my question?” Hope was the only thing hearable in his voice, that much that you could literally hear him in your head how he begged you to answer something, anything at this point.

“S- sure.” But you weren’t ready to lie to the only person that still had hope in you intelligence even when all of the other professors thought that you were no good for their class. At least you were an ACE in gym class where you tried to impress Mr. Park all the time. He was the most charming man to you and that will never change as long as you know he is single and ready to mingle.

“Ehh… what was the question again?” At that, Mr. Kim couldn’t believe that even you didn’t pay attention to his cool class which was evident at another loud sigh he couldn’t how back. After seeing the disappointment on his face, something in you snapped making you somehow remember his question. “Oh, right. What would I bring on a deserted island? Hmm…”

As you thought about the question, Mr. Kim already seemed a lot happier that someone was thinking about him and didn’t let him down, and it just confirmed in his head that he was indeed “cool”. The opposite was more accurate, he was someone that tried very hard to be cool and end up just being a hand full but everyone let that slide and made him believe in what he wanted to believe.

“First of…” You thought about something to say, anything really. “I would take a professional chef with me so I wouldn’t starve.”

“Wait, why a chef? Wouldn’t an unlimited supply of food be better?” He curiously asked.

“I don’t think so. At some point, you would use up all the food and what then? Starve to death?” You obviously started to get heated when it came to food because that was the most favorite thing in the world so you could talk about it all the time. “If you bought a professional chef, he could make food even from sand because he is a professional. So you would never starve.”

He thought about your answer for a moment and he seemed to get your point. “Hm, okay. I’ll give you that one. After all, it sounds kind of logical and unique in some way too. What else?”

You were again caught up in your thoughts, pondering the other thing you would want to bring to a deserted island not noticing that another pair of eyes was laid on you. It was Hoseok, one of your classmates and a so-called bad boy of the school who also wasn’t paying attention to the lecture before you started talking. The moment he heard your voice, he immediately lifted his head from the sleeping position on his desk and Mr. Kim also noticed how another student started paying attention now.

“I think I would bring a pro-survival so that he could make me the best possible shelter that was possible to exist on an island.” You were a bit proud of your answer because you seriously thought of them as brilliant ones at the fact that you haven’t heard of such ones before.

“Oh, that’s a good one. Someone that can show you how to survive on your own really is a great idea to bring with you.” Mr. Kim highly agrees with you on that one, smiling as a result of satisfaction.

“And for the third thing… Hm, what would I need now? I already said the main things that would be needed.”

“I’m sure you can think of something.” Mr. Kim reassures you this time. He probably was expecting something big after those two good answers and you just had to come up with something even better now.

After pondering for a moment, you finally came up with something that would be suitable as a third solution. “I think I would bring-” As you were about to state your answer, you were cut off by a voice that came from the back making your head turn around in surprise.

“Jung Hoseok.” You seriously thought you were the only one paying some kind of attention to Mr. Kim’s class but as it was now known, you weren’t. The all so famous boy sitting at the far back chimed in, in completing your sentence.

“Great. Another student lifted up and decided to hang with us.” At the lameness of Mr. Kim’s selection of words, you cringed inside not paying him much attention as you saw who the voice that cut you off belonged to, and to your luck, it was none other than Jung Hoseok.

You sent him a death glare before speaking. “Obviously that is totally not true. Why would I even think about choosing you for this? Everyone knows you’re no good news anyway.”

Expecting him to backfire at you, all you got was a light chuckle that you never saw from him before. Silence filled the room, making it unbearable to stay quiet any longer wanting to sound as clear as possible, you continued.

“I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island!”

Before he was able to explain his kind of shocked expression, the school bell rang signaling that the class just had ended making everyone jump from their seats and get out of this hell.

You made your way to the bus stop because that your last class you had to attend for the day, wishing nothing more than to be home right now. What could be more comforting after a long school day than your bed that you craved so much?

Hoping to have at least some kind of peace while you waited for your bus, faith was not on your side and decided to gift you with none other person than the devil, as you like to call him, himself. Hoseok stopped right beside you what made you turn your head in the opposite direction trying to prevent any type of conversation as the minutes turned into hours.

“Hey!”

Out of curiosity, you turned your head in his direction being met with a bright smile on his face that made his cute dimples appear in all their glory. Cute??? Where did that come from? Of course, you didn’t mean cute. You meant that they were… interesting?

“Hey…” You couldn’t help yourself from answering him even though your head was telling you to just shut your mouth and ignore him, yet your heart was including you to continue. It was so confusing because you knew you hated him, but you also knew you had something soft for him. He wasn’t just anyone to you. Not the bad boy, neither the troublemaker, but also not a crush. At least that’s what you convinced yourself into believing, and it was simply a lie.

“Need a ride home?” He was still keeping his eyes glued on you as you tried to get this situation together. Now it came to your head, why was he at the bus stop when everyone knew he drove every day to school in his car? That literally made no sense whatsoever, and was he asking you if you needed a ride home? Wasn’t it obvious that you were at the bus stop because you needed a ride home? Apparently, it wasn’t to him.

“Waiting for the bus as you can see. I mean that’s why I’m at the bus stop… waiting for the bus to come. A typical day, you know.”

Was that or was that not just the lamest reply you could’ve come up with just now? Your stuttering and trying to be “cool” came just out as awkward words that were said just to be said. Internally, you wanted to slap yourself for such a lame answer to such a simple question. He asked you if you need a ride home, and you just gave him the best answer that you could’ve come up with. You could’ve just had said yes and that would be it but no, you wanted to be extra as hell and that was the result of it. Great job.

His reply to your great response was anything but not something you would have expected, at least not from him. “I could give you a ride.” For a couple of seconds, you just looked at him like a fish, not knowing what to say. “I mean if you want to. If not, I would recommend going by foot because the bus will be delayed for half an hour.”

“What? Really?” Great, now the bus won’t even come and you look just dumb right now.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Were you that desperate to get home as fast as possible, or did you just want to be near him, because you found yourself agreeing to his request which brought you to the passengers' seat of his car?

Soft music was playing in the background while he was driving you to your house even though, you didn’t quite know how he knew where you lived but you weren’t gonna question that in this moment. You took the situation as it came and all you could do now was to relax until you made it to your home.

After ten more minutes, he was pulling up in front of your house. The tension rose up as soon as the car came to a halt and it felt awkward because none of you said anything for some time.

“Why wouldn’t you choose me?”

Upon his voice being the only thing hearable in the car, you turned your head in his direction a bit confused at his question.

“What do you mean?”

“For the deserted island.”

Was this something that was on his mind since class? I mean, you did shut him down pretty badly but you didn’t think that that mind stick to him. After all, he was the well known Jung Hoseok who didn’t give a sh*t about what people thought of him. But something in you told you that he cared at least a little bit about what you thought of him.

“I-I don’t know.” Obviously, you lied. “I just thought that it would be better to choose something more… helpful…”

The hurt was visible on his face while he broke the contact between the both of you, now looking in front. “Well… I hope I’m never stuck with you on a deserted island either.”

With that, you exited his car to which it zoomed off. You were confused at what that even meant. Why was he so angry at that? And why did he even care about what you thought of him in the first place?

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box-of-muses · 6 years

Note

“Why wasn’t I enough for you?” // i’m here to hurt saeran

RANDOM ANGSTY SENTENCE STARTERS.

It was a question that echoed his own thoughts but no matter how hard he tried to think on an answer, nothing seemed to make sense. It wasn’t anything to do with Mei. It was him. It was always him. He’d fought so hard to try and become a better person, to become someone who the girl could be proud of - but the nightmares were still there, the voices still in the back of his mind - reminding him day and night of how useless he was, how he was the devils child, how he should never have been born. He sank to the floor of the bathroom and hugged into his knees tightly, ignoring the pain in his wrists, ignoring the burning at the back of his throat as bile built up at the back of his throat, his entire body beginning to shake as his body attempted to shut down, to allow him to flee from the blame and guilt that was now rushing through his veins. It had been months now. Months and still no sign of his brother, which had been eating away from inside of him - making him doubt his own abilities, his own self worth. What used was he if he couldn’t even find his other half? It was difficult to explain to anyone else of course. To explain how without the effects of the elixir, that numbness had been replaced simply with pain and a type of emptiness that couldn’t be filled. “I-it’s not you”. His voice sounded too weak. He needed to be stronger. He needed to place aside this weakness - to stop breaking down. The past could not be changed. To allow it to rip him apart like this - it just showed how weak he truly was. A burden. A worthless human being. All he did was being pain to those around him - cling tightly to whatever support he could find - panic that they’ll leave, only to become a burden once more. It was an endless circle that he couldn’t escape from. And the problem was with him. This was simply the reason he had been born. To suffer. To fall into the darkness. After all the things that Saeyoung had done for him, he couldn’t even do this one little thing to try and find him, to try and save him. And even now - even now that old fire would burn, reminding him of how he should hate Saeyoung. How he shouldn’t be feeling this lost without him by his side. Mei had saved him before. Mei was all he needed. Those voices made him groan and hug into this knees tightly, one hand moving to grip into his hair as the tears continued to fall.He’d let her down. She’d stuck with him through everything, through all that he had tossed in her direction. Through the abuse, the starvation, fleeing from Mint Eye… everything and yet this was the way to repay her for everything? Crying and bleeding on the bathroom floor - the sink covered in his blood. His wrists weren’t where the majority of the blood came from though - that was from the long slashes that had been cut across the large eye tattoo on his left shoulder. It seemed as though the injuries to his wrists had been a somewhat second thought - the cuts more shallow in nature. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry”, he whispered and slowly raised his head to glance towards the girl in the doorway. What? You’re going to reach out for her again? Do you think you can really be saved? Look at what everyone else has ever done to you. Your Saviour before was nothing but a lie. Perhaps this one was too? Perhaps she’ll grow tired of these moments of weakness. She should. She should run and never look back. She’d be much happier alone. Without you.

“Mei…” he groaned, both hands now gripping into his hair tightly, “Make it stop… just…just make it stop…”

@mcrxki

#mcrxki #rp:saeran #v:AfterStory #~post ray route #tw:mental health #tw:self harm #tw:blood #//Ahhh sorry about this ^^;#//first idea to pop into my mind ^^;#//and I know he doesn't have the tattoo in canon post ray route #//but since I like to imagine all the events at mint eye lasted longer than 11days #//My muse does have it ^^

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impalaanddemons · 7 years

Text

Enterprise Crowd - Part 2

Summary: These are the adventures of Reader, a Lieutenant Commander assigned the Enterprises IT engineering team. Her biggest flaw? Her temper.

Wordcount: 1850

A/N: This week in “Enterprise Crowd”: Heads are butted. Curse words are said. Are they gonna kiss or murder each other? Bets are on. No sweet fluffy “Monty” in here, I’m sorry.

Warnings: F-Bombs, Cursing, general head butting and techno babble. People yelling at each other.

PART 1

„FUCK,“ every motion on the bridge came to a sudden halt at your loud exclamation. „Is everything alright down there?“ asked the voice of Captain Kirk himself, who turned his head and leaned over his seat at the same time. „Captain, Sir, yes.“ you crawled out from under a panel and ripped the cables attached to your PADD off at the same time, prompting another curse, although not as loud or rude as the one before. „I’m sorry, Sir. Telemetric System C is now rebooting, the quantum processor got a bit jiggled up.“ - „I suppose jiggling up is an occurrence Mr. Scott will want to hear about.“ Kirk said, half a smile on his face. You could see at least a dozen eyes switching back to their respective posts, although most of the other present crew members were still clinging to a mug of coffee. Coffee. Nice hot coffee.

Your PADD showed the rebooting sequence and you flicked through the logfile. „Yeah, all fine, Sir. Telemetric System C is online again.“, you stuffed your PADD into your backpack. Alpha hadn’t officially started yet, but you had received another call from the bridge and had spent a delightful hour scrambling behind a control panel, running diagnostics and murmuring to yourself until you had pinned down the problem and then cut your hand on a metal edge - which prompted the aforementioned curse. „Your hand is bleeding, Lieutenant Commander Y/L/N“, the captain nodded into your direction. „It’s just a scratch, Sir.“ you assured the Captain, who shot you a look that seemed rather unconvinced. „I’ll report back to Mr. Scott and take a detour to medbay afterwards.“ „How about you make that detour now, kid.“ a pair of heavy hands landed on your shoulders, the soft drawl of the Doctor himself behind you as he started to guide you to the door. The handsome devil was known for hunting down everyone on the ship if necessary, even the captain himself. „I appreciate the concern, Doctor McCoy, but I’ve got a really important meeting at start of Alpha and Mr. Scott will flay me alive if I don’t attend it.“ „I will have to have a serious word with Mr. Scott on your behalf then.“ „Please don’t.“ you said, practically flinching at the thought. He raised an eyebrow and, to Kirks visible amusement, led you right to medbay.

When the Doctor finally released you after putting you in the dermal regenerator, of all things!, Alpha was well underway and you were skipping through Jefferies tubes to cut the way to Engineering as short as possible. You made a mental note to avoid bridge from now on. That place was definitely cursed and you now knew why security and engineering avoided that place. „Dammitdammitdammit“ you cursed as you slid down a tube, past an Ensign screaming from surprise and landing just a few meters from your Commanding Officers office with the hard ‚THUMP!‘ of heavy issue boots. You immediately picked up speed again and basically bolted through his office doors. Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had already lifted his head from some ‚damned paperwork‘ at the commotion outside and seemed fairly unsurprised to see you standing there, panting and sweaty and overall apologetic looking. His eyes flickered to your bandaged hand and a expression of concern crossed his face, but was replaced within seconds by a stern look. „Lieutenant Y/L/N, is there not only a micro climate, but also a different time zone where yer room is located?“ You pressed your lips together before you opened them up again to speak. Already you could feel your temper flare. „No, Mr. Scott, last time I checked Life Support Zone C was working fine.“ His right eyebrow lifted just the tiniest bit and you bit your tongue. „Yer late.“ he stated. „I noticed.“. Why. Why did your mouth had to have a life on it’s own in front of him. „I mean“, you added, concerned by the look on his face „I had a call to the Bridge, Sir, and my hand got hurt and Doctor McCoy insisted on me accompanying him to medbay.“ A moment of silence stretched between the two of you as he got up and folded his hands behind his back, taking a leisurely step in your direction. „I assume yer well?“ „Yes, Mr. Scott.“ „I’m sure I dinnae need to remind ya of yer behavior last night.“ „No, Mr. Scott“ you answered and took a deep breath. „I want ya to retrain those AIs, so that something like last night will not happen again.“ He could see the „But“ written on your face and in the way you clenched your teeth. „We cannae have something like tha’ happen again, Lieutenant.“ he stressed. You opened your mouth and the look in his eyes dared you to challenge him. The scotsman took another step closer and you could see how the light got caught in his dark brown hair, the angry line that furrowed his face now. „Sir“ „I hope that’s a „Yes, Sir“, lass.“ The beeping of your communicator broke the tense silence. „Am I allowed to get that, Mr. Scott?“ He gestured a yes with his hand and you flipped your communicator open with more force then necessary. It was Vance. „Yes … No …“ it was difficult discussing in a civil manner with Vance, while the fire in your superior officers eyes seemed to challenge you even now. „I’m at Mr. Scotts Office, Vance, I’ll come right away.“ Shutting your communicator you lifted your face to Montgomery Scott. „I have to assist my team, Sir, but I’ll get to your request right after that.“ „Ya can go, Lieutenant Y/L/N“ he stepped back, finally releasing the tension between the two of you. Without further ado you turned around and strode away.

„You know, most people on the crew that work with him simply refer to him as Scotty“, Vance said without looking up from the diagnostics output he was reading. „So?“ you shot back grumpily. The words in front of your eyes slid past you without making much sense. „I’m just saying that he values good work and if you retrain those networks he’ll forget what has happened.“ „You mean I should save my sorry ass by being a nice little engineer?“ Vance rolled his eyes at your remark and continued to scroll through the data on his PADD. He knew better then to argue with you at this point. You tried to focus on your work. Reconfiguring. Yeah. Great. That would take you at least until end of Beta, you would never leave those systems unattended during a retrain. Probably an all-nighter. „The bastard can kiss my - „ Vance never learned what part of you the Enterprises’ Chief Engineer could kiss, as T’Sai opened the door to your teams office with an accidental loud bang. „Well, I’m gonna bugger off. Got to retrain some networks.“ you muttered and got up. „Gonna see you in mess later on?“ „Fuck you, Vance.“

„Okay, now inject the learning variables for the last manual warp core overrides and let’s see how you get along with that madmans attitude.“ you mumbled to the machinery while working, slid the data-PADD into the computing unit in front of you, then leant back to watch the graphs on your PADD change and shift. The blueish tint of the Enterprises datacenter was calming, but the cool air made your fingers go numb. You’d normally work from a remote office, but today you valued the secluded place down in the Enterprises belly. While the system worked through the data you’d fed it, you took the bandage off - if only to save yourself the trouble to go and visit medbay again tomorrow. „Hah“, you muttered, typed something on your PADD and restarted the learning algorithm. „If it wasn’t, it has to be!“ you said in a mock accent and let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes at the same time. Maybe you could just take a nap, while this thing worked. Gamma had crept upon you two hours ago already and you knew the lights on the ship were slowly dimming down. „Mr. Scott really can-„ „Ach. I really hope I dinnae have to listen to the end of tha’ sentence, Lieutenant.“ Once again on this day you sprang to attention, nearly tripping over the cables around you. „At ease“ the scotsman said and eyed the room. You eased, but just a little. „How is the training going?“ „Good, Sir.“ „And yer not working remote because …?“ You were positively sure you’d murder that man at some point, if only for questioning seemingly everything you did. „I like being alone, Sir.“ you remarked. He grabbed the PADD and studied the output shown without answering to your scathing remark. „Looking good, probably ready by Alpha.“ You sucked in your upper lip and nodded along. „Ya dinnae need to sit by it’s side for the rest of the night, Lieutenant. Yer relieved until Alpha. Get some sleep.“ turning away from the PADD he saw you shrugging. „I’ll not leave the system unattended to while in this state.“ „It’s only training, the network is not even deployed, lass. If it fails during nightshift ya can get back to it tomorrow“ „Just leave it alone? Waste more time?“ you raised your shoulders and felt a deep furrow appearing on your brow. „It’s … not just any network, Sir. I’m sorry to say, Sir.“ you drew in a deep breath and pressed your lips onto each other once more. „That’s no true AI, Sir, it needs supervision. It’s … it’s …“ another deep breath: „It’s gonna be part of the Enterprises subconsciousness! If it has to feel the ships ailments for us, we have to care for it beforehand. And you want it to practically sense whatever thing you’re up to at any given moment - that takes time!“ you had not noticed how your voice had gotten gradually louder, practically yelling at him. Mr. Scotts face changed from bafflement, to a certain softness and settled on a cool expression afterwards. „Thank ya for explaining my ship to me.“, he said, voice chilly. Your mouth snapped shut. „I …“ he began and you could see behind the cool demeanor he was giving you, could see how he was trying to be the best superior he could be. „I see ya care deeply about the ship, lass. But yer gonna take care of ya self as much.“ he nodded to the bandage. The air felt even more cool against your burning face. „Sir?“ „Off ta quarters, Lieutenant. Continue tomorrow.“ „But that’s stupid! I NEED to attend to this. NOW!“ For a moment it seemed as if he wouldn’t say anything, but the outburst followed just a second later:  „YER AFF YER HEID!“, he raised his voice, his jaws clenched in-between words, „IT’S AS IF YER TRYING TO ARGUE WI’ ME ON PURPOSE! THA’S THE MOST GLAIKIT THING I’VE HEARD TODAY!“

Silence fell between the two of you, both of you huffing and staring at each other. You ground your teeth. „I“, you began and it was now your turn to be baffled, staring at him open mouthed. „Out. Quarters.“ he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. You collected your things hastily - „Good Night, Sir.“ and brushed past him.

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suhofmarchive-blog · 7 years

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ι'м gσηηα ѕнσυт ℓσυ∂єя тнαη уσυ ( self para. )

a shy young boy, freshly joining redlight music. everything goes good for a few months, before he begins to run into issues with a trainer by the name of pil moonui. a man who at the time, was taller than suho (though, suho would go on to grow about an inch taller than him by sixteen.) he gets pushed around, verbally and mentally abused by the older man. suddenly, he seems to be rude to a few trainees. only for it to bubble over and explode with the man later down the line.

trigger warnings: verbal/mental abuse + some assault.

word count: 3,280. (not counting headers.)

JANUARY 2010, day one of training.

nerves fill him, how usual it would be for someone who was just sitting training. he was already exhausted and he hasn’t even done anything. it was simply due to spending the first night in a trainee dorm, almost feeling like he could hear just about everything. but nonetheless, it didn’t matter. he was here to train for redlight and live out the dreams that he so desires. that’s why everyone was here, right? there was one thing in mind, one thing needing to go full speed ahead. he was ready, he was prepared.

though, he wasn’t sure how prepared for all the eyes that lingered upon him as he’s making his way to the trainee building. a thirteen year old can only think so many things as to why multiple set of eyes laid upon his very face. shyness gets the best of him, feeling like he’s slightly hiding himself. was he funny looking? was he going to be another easy target for the other trainees to pick on? or maybe rumors had already flown through the building of how he crushed it at the audition competition two weeks ago? at this point, it could of been anything. but nonetheless, he ignores whatever it might be and he moves on. don’t be insecure, suho; the teenager tells himself.

day one of training comes to an end, with a flustered suho to top it right off. every class he was in and in the studio, other trainees seemed to be in awe of the thirteen year old with the things that he did. maybe here, people were actually going to like suho; it was something that he could only hope. though, there was that trainer, the man with dark hair, and slightly buff arms; who stood a good few inches taller than suho, named pil moonui that constantly gave him the side eye. little did he know, this would be a man whom would later be the living devil in his life. but, that was something to be discovered, something he had yet to worry about. sleep in the dorm that night was something to almost be cherished, he finally slept through the night.. which wouldn’t last that long.

JULY 2010, seven months into training.

boa’s american debut single, eat you up, blasts through speakers. his feet and body move in some form of memorizing way; though, he’s clearly not a dance trainee (he was actually more so focused upon the topics of rapping and vocals, which was more so his forte.) but nonetheless, he still did pretty good for such a trainee. he can feel the preying eyes on him, the eyes of the man who’s already started coming at him within the beginning of the week. he can feel them burning a hole into his soul, he almost wants to speak up with his new thick skin, tell him to take a picture it’ll last longer. though, the thirteen year old decided not to, he still needs to respect the man who’s clearly bullying him with almost every chance that he can possibly get. suho was used to this, as morbid as that was. he comes over to suho once the song was done, pushing him a bit. “you’re so stiff! my grandmother can move better than you, you fucking imbecile,” moonui starts, before there’s a hit against suho’s back, something he again ignores, before moonui is off somewhere else. what has suho done to receive this type of things? it was almost a twice a week thing, sometimes more. he ignores it, another trainee on looks the boy, just staring at him. he looks away, tries his best to suck it up.

day twenty in the month of july, he’s verbally abused yet again by moonui. “you can’t do anything right, can you, suho?” another sentence thrown what at him, “you should just go ahead and give up, idiot,” is another thing he could recall being said to him that day, among all the other things that moonui would say to him. he would just take it, that was the only way suho knew how to deal with the situation. that day though, he was saved from a bruise to the ankle, thankfully. but, the words would truly hurt. but no matter what, suho keeps to himself and doesn’t let the man bring him down. this was suho’s dream, he wasn’t going to quit what so ever. he was here for the long run, the man that picked on him was not going to get him down.

MARCH 2011, one year and two months into training.

frustration, the thing that made you want to go on top of a rooftop and just scream your lungs out. but this.. this was frustration that the young teenager has never felt before. he’s truly not exactly sure how to few, it seems moonui has gotten worse on suho. he has no idea where to turn, but he knows that he’s not the same suho that he was once before. the older, not so much strong suho is back again to haunt suho. he felt like he had left him behind, but he was something that crept upon suho. but, this was a suho that was much more worse than the one from years before. this was a suho that was completely bad. one that was starting to become an ass to those around him on the really bad days involving moonui. this would be the first day he showed the bad side; after very rudely telling a trainee to shut it and making them rather upset. he would regret that later.

more and more everyday, he would just wear sweatpants to training sessions, just incase he needs to hide marks whenever moonui was immature and decided to kick suho out of his own frustration. some kids would notice such things go on, but suho would give them a look, one to keep things a secret. after all, they were just kids who couldn’t really do much about any type of situations. they were on the lowest end of the scale. suho was going to keep suffering in his own silence; he was going to let the verbal, mental, and possible physical abuse consume him; make him a scared little boy, make him insecure. but even so, he was going to continue to fight harder because just about everyone in there has known what suho was made of from day one. everything was going to be alright, right?

OCTOBER 2011, one year and nine months into training.

“you’re pathetic, do it again,” is shouted at suho. he’s slightly startled, but he does his best not to show it. he goes to do the rapping again, before he’s screamed at once again. he doesn’t know why there’s issues; he only has issues with this one trainer, he had something against him; but suho had no idea what exactly moonui’s issue was. he constantly over-worked, over-worked than normal, actually by moonui. the other trainers he had would praise suho for his hard-work, mentioning that he was just about ready to be a professional. but, every time he was stuck with moonui, all that seemed to not be there. it was just pushed right underneath the rug and the horrible names, the horrible phases were thrown at suho. he’d get kicked and hit in the back every so often by the man; which was even worst on moonui’s part, especially since many, many times, other trainees would witness the behavior from the older man towards suho. he tried to stay strong, but often, suho would rush to the bathroom after to cry to himself, shutting himself away to the world.

he rushes to the dorm after attending a day of schooling at school of performing arts korea, his bag goes onto his bed, before he’s currently getting out of uniform to switch into his sweatpants, t-shirt, and sneakers to go practice a bit for himself in one of the trainee studios. he liked getting time to himself, help him perfect as craft, without anyone else in the room. those we’re nice times, really. he got into the training room where he practiced his craft of rapping and singing. he’d even work on his dancing a bit, considering that was one hundred percent something that would probably be needed if he was put into a boy group. though, he doesn’t except the next thing.

“you sound horrifying, i had to run in here, see if an animal was dying!”

it’s that voice again, the one that haunted him. his eyes look at the man in the mirror, who had nothing but a smirk on his face. he’s sick and twisted.. what grown mans gets happy picking on a teenager? “you might want to check one of the other rooms because it wasn’t me,” suho speaks up, which makes the man have an even twisted smirk. “ah.. so the puppy has bark, huh?” he responded, approaching him, giving her a hard tap with his sneaker. “learn to talk to your elders, kid. and get fucking better, you’re never going to debut. i’m going to make sure of it. i’ve had about enough of you, i don’t even know how they’ve brought such a pathetic thing like you in here. seriously, what’s going on in this place?” moonui just laughs with that sick smirk on his lips. “just quit, you piece of shit,” he whispers into his ear, before pushing his head. he walks out of the room and once he’s out, suho allows for the breakdown to occur. he soon would leave to go hide back at his dorm, at least for just a little while.

AUGUST 2012, two years and four months into training.

it was another horrible day; he was having so many good days for the past few months. a lot of the time, he was more so with the other trainers who truly just liked suho and praised him for his hard work. he was dedicated to what he was doing, constantly improving on what he could, only to be praised by the other trainers whom he had come in contact with or worked with. of course, there would always be things needed to be worked on because he was just that, a trainee. but again, it seemed as things were going good, the rollercoaster had to come back down again. but the rollercoaster wouldn’t just come down again.. it would manage to just crash.. in possibly the most horrible way. it was like at this point, he knew how exactly to get underneath suho’s thick skin to rip away his protected self; even if suho did his best to bite back.. and bite back hard. but, it only lead him to cry somewhere else, but he always managed to pick himself back up, doing his best.

though, he finally gets a chance to talk to his mom; he’s always so busy and so is she.. he’s glad she’s busy like him, it probably keeps her from missing him too much. but, he knew she was missing a lot of his teenage years and he got to visit her on his birthday and chuseok. even though they lived in the same city, it was still hard to see one another. one, seoul is a massive city and they lived in completely different neighborhoods. two, between trainee schedules and attending school, he didn’t have any time set aside except for quick phone calls from time to time. “i’m fine mom, everything is going really good.. it’s great,” he lies. sorry mom, but it’s best you not get involved with what’s going on with me. i want the best for you, eat well, forget about what’s going on with me. that’s what was always his thought process on the phone, never making it known that suho felt small once again.

this is when everything starts within suho, the kid who begins to just be a complete asshole to other trainees because they weren’t suffering when moonui was in the room. why is he the only one who’s abused? why does everyone else get a free pass? what’s so utterly wrong with suho that he’s deemed to be pathetic by this man? and the funny part was, he didn’t deserve any of it and this was a man who knew nothing about suho. but, suho being a complete asshole to other trainees to make them as miserable as he was, was not fair to them either. but, suho didn’t care he was being selfish and he would only regret such later. he let this monster consume him and he too, was seeming to become one.

FEBRUARY 2013, three years into training.

there were rumors flying around the place that redlight music’s boy group was going to be announced. it was shocking, but no one knew if it was actually true or not. the nerves set in and the air feels different as the guys are working even harder during training elevations. of course, suho always put int 110% at all times nonetheless, he didn’t need rumors to attest to how he trained and how he would act during the elevations. but, once the fifteenth rolled around, the people doing the trainee elevations seemed to be a bit more smiley at suho and how he performed. maybe those rumors were going to be true after all.

and they were. a few days later, the announcement of the next boy group would be set to debut. suho is announced as once of the eighth members, which makes him head over heels. the guys who get in are more than happy, which it’s obvious how the other’s feel. it was a happy day, but also a sad day for the brothers they were seeming to leave behind. though, it was a very unhappy day for none other then the devil himself, pil moonui. this was his chance to just throw even more shit at suho.

suho was beginning to boil. every hit, every word, every phrase had gotten even worst towards suho. moonui seemed to just be pissed and even more hostile now that the boy had been given the chance to debut. the air became hostile, it was obvious, and it seemed other people could only sit back to stare at what was going on. suho would bit his lip, not barking back currently. he needed to keep it, he needed to hide the bruises that sat underneath sweatpants from moonui constantly kicking him whenever he thought suho got a dance move wrong. tears would just later flow when he was alone and horrible words towards the other trainees got worst.

he treated the decypher boys terribly, just because he was upset, he was frustrated, he was pissed off. truly, he didn’t mean to pull that stuff and it would make him sick to his stomach after the matter. but, he couldn’t take it anymore and would take his feelings out on the other boys. maybe.. maybe suho really was a piece of shit.

MARCH 2013, three years and one month into training.

and then he snapped, and then he snapped, and then he snapped.. and then he just snapped.

shouts poured from the trainee studio, tears of frustration lingered in the eyes of a sixteen year old suho. he couldn’t help but to finally snap at the pil moonui, the man who had treated him like dog shit on the bottom of a shoe for the past three years. he couldn’t take it anymore. a few people poured around the door to see the sight of the century. suho, now just as tall as moonui, was in moonui’s face screaming at him, with moonui doing just about the same. there was name calling, among many other things during this.. heated debate.

he finally shouted louder than pil moonui.

“you’ve done nothing but pushed me around, hit me, cursed at me, called me names, and all around treated me like shit for the past three years. i’m sick of you constantly belittling me and putting me down! i’ve had it about up to here with people picking on me for no fucking reason! you’ve made me so fucking scared constantly and made other people witness the shit that you’ve done! i’ve had to beg them to keep quiet! all for what? to protect a piece of shit bastard who’s done nothing but pick on me! you’ve had no right and no reason to fucking do anything to me, you fucking bastard!” he screamed the words of disrespect through tears, leaving the man with scrambled words. there was still a screaming match and before suho knew it, he’s pulled back by the two trainers he trusted the most and another trainee trying to clam him down from his anger.

all that mattered, was the fact that he had finally defended himself. even though he had finally exploded, it didn’t feel all that good; he remembers being taken out of the room and sobbing; slightly disappointed in himself, the monster that he had become.

after hours of discussions with the company, two things had occurred out of it; pil moonui would no longer be an employee underneath redlight music after the uncovering of things that had occurred with the man (thanks to the trainees who had helped suho in this investigation and having his back.) it was always believed that pil moonui was a man who was jealous of the talent that sat within oh suho, a boy with skills, talent, and potential to become almost legendary. but, what caused pain to suho for so long was that it was announced he would be pulled from the debut line-up of decypher and the boy group would stay a seven member group. he was devastated, heart-broken. redlight music proceeded to bury the incident underneath a rug. it seemed almost foolish for suho to stay with redlight music, but he felt as if he had no other choice.

he would, for so long, be known as the boy who was pulled from decypher’s line-up.. it would forever carry inside him.

for a long while, he’d be put into a funk of things.. his clouded mind and disappointment within himself.. though he would soon begin to once again, show everyone what exactly oh suho was made of.

OCTOBER 2017, seven years and nine years into training.

sneakers laced up, a twenty-year old boy hits the training studio. this was routine now. he was constantly in here, working hard to be able to debut. rumors still flooded the walls of redlight music of that faithful day in 2013. but, he would never let the truth come to light and most people who were there seemed to keep it to themselves, which he was thankful for. truly, he came along way during the last four years. he grew as a person, but he still treated people how they treated him; he wasn’t sure how exactly he would break that. he was passing elevations on the fifteenth of each month with flying colors. he was even sending congratulations wreaths and goodies to the members of decypher towards their success as his way of an apology constantly for how he acted.

but, decypher was completely in the past for oh suho. it was a distant memory now, something he no longer needed to worry about any longer. with the sweet taste of a promised debut as a soloist on the horizon, suho was on his best behavior and in the trainee studios everyday to prove himself. he was going to show everyone that he was no longer going to be known as the boy who was pulled from decypher’s line-up; but as angel, the soloist.

he was ready to debut, everything in him was perfected, and he’s had the burning fire of passion inside of himself for so long. it was jus a matter of when redlight music was going to debut him.

#αη∂ тнє ωσя∂ѕ ѕριℓℓ συт υρση тнє ραgє ( self paras. )#self para: i'm gonna shout louder than you.#ok so.. this was extra as hell YIKES

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