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dabilove27 · 3 years

Text

How Far We've Come

Paring: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Smut (female-receiving oral), A Cocky Dabi, Cussing, A lot of Pet Names

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile Apocalypse Collab! If you have the time check out some of the other amazing pieces! Everyone has worked so hard to make some beautiful fics!

Thank you so much to my wife @lady-lunaaa for reading, encouraging, brainstorming, and helping me the whole way from start to finish. I have said it before but I will say it again. You are absolutely amazing and this fic wouldn't exist without you! 💜 Also thank you @/deathcab4daddy (not sure if you want to be tagged) for taking the time to read through and for your advice!

You've seen all those movies, the decaying zombie hoards, the massive explosions that wipe out nations, or an unexpected illness that mysteriously kills off the population. But you had never really expected for any of those apocalyptic things to become true in your own world. They were just fiction, never something that could actually occur. Yet here you are faced with the reality of a hoard of rotting zombies. Like you have been thrown into one of the many movies or TV shows yourself.

People aren't even sure how it happened, especially in a world full of quirks where this should be somewhat controlled, right? Wrong, whatever caused this zombie apocalypse also seemed to nullify quirks over time. There was so much speculation whether it came into the water supply or passed through the air. But none of that really seems to matter anymore when you are fighting for your life every day.

And as the mass of decaying, walking corpses steps closer and closer to you, it seems like your end is near too. The smell of organs exposed to the air and sun stink up the room. You can see the blank, milky white eyes of the undead that somehow can still find you even though they can't really see. You've had a partner, at least—the man who has stood with you during this entire shit show.

He stands close to you, a single rusted knife covered in stagnant blood, not nearly enough even combined with whatever you could find for fighting off the seemingly endless mindless bodies coming your way. He's covered in burn scars and rusted staples that pull at his healthy skin. People used to jab at him for looking like the walking dead before all this went down. His firepower from before would have solved this problem in an instant. This rotting mob wouldn't have stood a chance.

But instead, it looks like it's the conclusion for the two of you. Memories flash through your mind. A memory of escaping the daily struggle of your mundane life by sharing take-out on your old couch. Or how his kisses always felt like burning flames against your lips. Your regular life consisted of trying to numb the pain of the past with alcohol or working endless hours. Even though you didn’t have a traditional relationship where you could go on public dates, being in a relationship with a well-known villain was worlds better than this. But if you were going to die, at least it was together. Solidarity in times like this seems to help the never-ending dread that the Reaper looming around every corner ready to take you. Every moment in this new hell had you wished you had more time to develop your romance with him instead of the tragedy that was about to befall you. You wished you had more time with this romance and that it wouldn't end in tragedy. It's hard to believe that there was ever a time when you couldn't stand this man, but even now, that's a fond memory for you. You would give anything to return to that old bar where the two of you met and relive all of these memories.

It really isn't a surprise that you met Dabi in a dark, run-down bar near Kamino. No, not the "bar" run by Kurogiri; everyone who lived in this area knew that it was just a setup. This bar is a tiny little hole in the wall with paint chipping off the walls and where the seats were hardly held together anymore, but that didn't really matter to people who lived in this area. You didn't come to this bar for a luxury experience.

The main reason people came to this bar was its location. It sat deep in a seedy area which meant no police patrolling nearby so you wouldn’t need to look over your shoulder constantly. Plus, the cheap liquor was enticing enough.

Every Friday night, you were perched on one of the worn-out bar stools as you nursed your gin and tonic. This was your place to unwind after another hellish week of your mundane job. It was still early enough in the evening that the bar wasn't thoroughly packed with bodies trying to get their drink. The music was still soft, later it would blare whatever song was currently sitting at the top of the Billboard charts. You were able to turn your brain off and listen to other patrons' mindless chatter in the background. You could just sip your drink, maybe take a shot or two if you felt like, and then head home to pass out.

You relished this little getaway, an oasis in the slums that made up your small world. The bartender and regular patrons didn't bother you, so you could have your own peace. But your Eden got interrupted by a cocky, fire-wielding asshole who had set his sights on you.

You didn't stir when said asshole plopped himself down in the barstool next to you with a thump. It wasn't until the jerk actually spoke to you that you were brought out of your mindless daydreaming.

"Hey, pretty girl, what are you doing in a place like this?" He said with a smooth tone. You didn't even have to look at him to know he had an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Who the fuck does this asshole think he is? The irritated thought instantly pops into your head. Anyone who frequented this bar knew you were from around here. You weren't some soft, delicate flower that wasn't supposed to be "on this side of town." Preparing yourself by putting on your best "I'm not interested face," you maneuvered your body to face him, ready to tell him off.

Your words caught in your throat as your eyes met his two endless pools of cerulean. Your gaze shifted to take in the burnt skin clinging onto the shining staples that were rooted in his healthy skin. A familiar black coat spread across his frame that was even more recognizable than those eyes, and the patronizing smile that you wanted to slap off his face. As much as you wanted to throw up your middle finger at him and tell him off, you knew who this was. Hell, everyone knew who this was.

The League of Villains didn't necessarily keep quiet around here. They didn't have to. This is the area where they recruited people to join them. You didn't just flick off and ignore a LOV member. Especially the infamous Dabi, who wasn't really known for his kindness or compassion. More for his ability to burn anyone who defied The League to a crumbling crisp.

But still, who did this asshole think he is? Waltzing in here like he owned it and saddling down into your escape from the world only to tell you that you don't look like you should be here? Fuck that nonsense, League member or not.

You swallow down a bit of the initial anger as your eyes narrow into a glare at the cocky asshole. "Thanks but no thanks, I'm not interested in being involved with the League. So if you don't mind going somewhere else to scout, that would be great." You try to say without a tremble in your voice as you wave your hand in a "shoo" motion.

You aren't sure what you expect Dabi to do next., burn down the whole bar you included? Tell you that you have no choice but to join, and you're coming with him? Rip you out of your seat and reprimand you for disrespecting The League? But instead, none of those things happen. Instead, he does something you don't expect, and his grin grows a little wider as the staples begin to pull more at his healthy flesh.

You can feel your anxiety rising. Get out, get out, get out, this asshole will kill you, leave NOW, your mind is practically sending off every warning signal it can.

Your chest tightens when Dabi lets out a low chuckle. "Oh no, sweetheart, you've got it all wrong." He says with a dark tone. "I'm not recruiting you for work. My interest in you is personal." Dabi points at you and then at himself and finishes with an infuriating smirk that seems to be mocking you. He's moved his hand and placed it on your forearm that was resting on the smooth bar top.

A shiver runs through you as the mismatched textures of his skin and the cool metal of the staples. You feel your anger bubbling up again. How dare this jerk think that you will just fall for him like a desperate fangirl. You are livid at this point, frustration coursing through your veins, fuck the niceties and preservation. He needed to be put in his place.

"I know you think you are some big shot because The League is doing so well right now but fuck off asshole. I'm not a League groupie that will just kneel down and suck your dick just because you want it." You spit out at him while shrugging off his hand and moving your body to face the way you were initially sitting. Grasping your drink and lifting it to your lips, you try and down what was left so you could leave immediately, any extra moment around Dabi was a moment you didn't want to have.

You were sure Dabi would have given up or at least killed you by now. You can't imagine that he is used to being rejected by women. He's handsome in a way that doesn't fit with the norm. He fills in that bad boy check-list like it's his job, which it practically is given his profession. Again though, Dabi surprises you with his response. He doesn't yell, he doesn't use his quirk, and he doesn't kill you. He lets out another dark chuckle like he's enjoying this and continues the conversation you had tried to cut off.

"I didn't say anything about sucking dick, but if you're offering, who am I to turn down a gift?" That smooth tone is back as he moves his hand to your hair and runs it through his fingers.

Bewilderment overcomes you, and you can't even stop yourself before you are turned towards him again, glass in your hand, ready to throw what's left of your drink on him.

As if he anticipated the response, Dabi moves quickly and grabs your wrist in a tight grip. "Now, why would you want to waste what you have left, doll? That's not a very smart choice." His grip tightens a little more around your wrist, and you can feel the staples begin to dig into your skin as he lets out a deep chuckle. He moves your hand back down to the bar but doesn't let go even after your glass has left your hand. "There we go, good girl. Now let's talk just a bit." He says sweetly, loosening his grip just a bit, but not enough for you to move your hand.

If looks could kill, Dabi would have died a cruel death by now. You are seething at this point. But instead, you're stuck there as he continues to do whatever it is that he’s trying to accomplish. "What were you drinking? I'll buy you another one and then leave, okay doll?" He says playfully and with a cunning grin on his face as you mumble out your drink order. You just want him to leave, and you really hope he plans on keeping his word.

Dabi motions for the bartender's attention, gives your drink order and plops a few bills on the bartop. He still hasn't let go of your wrist, and each and every moment he is even touching you, you can feel your annoyance continuing to build. You want to ask him if he's done yet and will kindly get the fuck out, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he likes the cat and mouse game, which would just lengthen the amount of time he sticks around.

The bartender finally delivers your drink, and it takes everything in you not to rip your wrist out of his grasp and grab the new glass to pour over Dabi's head. "Okay, one last question, and then I'll leave." He drawls out as you put all your focus into the condensation forming on your glass. You stay silent, waiting for his stupid question so you can move on and never see him again. Dabi continues with that condesending tone that is starting to cause your head to ache, "How often do you come here? I'd love to see you again."

Your heartbeat picks up, and little shots of adrenaline start to flow through you as you contemplate how to respond. Of course, you don't want this asshole to know when you come here. This is your escape from the world. You never want to even see Dabi again, but something from this interaction tells you Dabi isn't going to give up easily. So you tell him your regular time that you show up at the bar every Friday.

Dabi squeezes your wrist a little bit before letting out another "Good girl, sounds like a date. I'll see you then." You never want him to know how those few words send a shiver down your spine. He saunters out of the bar without having a single drink himself. Patrons stare dumbfounded between you and the doorway that Dabi just exited, trying to comprehend what just happened.

You let out an exasperated sigh before leaning your head down into your folded arms. The bar top isn't necessarily the cleanest of places to lay your head, but it’s pounding and racing with thoughts, and you can't really bring yourself to care right now. You try to formulate a plan so you won't ever see him. You'll just move your regular day to Saturday instead of Fridays. But then that stubborn anger flares inside of you again, and you sit up straight, glancing at your newly unwanted drink as the ice slowly melts, lifting the remaining liquid in the cup. No, I'm not going to let that asshole ruin my spot for me. He can come around here every Friday, but I'll turn that jerk down a million times. You think a little smugly to yourself. We will see how the big bad Dabi feels being turned down over and over. Maybe that will sting his ego.

And so you and Dabi play this game of cat and mouse. He comes every Friday when you are there without fail, buying you a drink, chatting to you with sentences filled with pet names, and planning another "date" each time. And every time you tell him you aren't interested or to go away, or really anything to try and get that stupid fucking smirk off his face. But it always remains cemented there as he watches you get fired up. And what you don't realize is the two of you are getting to know each other. Dabi adds in little questions, "what's your favorite food, least favorite, what do you do for work?" And the questions go on and on. You don't realize your walls coming down as the two of you find similarities in each other. And if there is one thing anyone who sees these frequent interactions between the two of you can say, it is that Dabi is determined.

You are so used to Dabi's Friday visits that they don't bring headaches anymore, and you realize something more has developed when he doesn't show up one week. A mixture of feelings rests in you, anxiety, confusion, anger. You wonder if he's okay, or has he finally given up. And then anger if he has. You don't want to admit it, but you miss his company, and you don't even have a number to reach out to him. You feel a sense of loss in your chest. How could he just give up? He's been trying for months! You think as tears begin to sting for a moment in your eyes.

You leave the bar that night not feeling uplifted or relaxed but sad and angry. And you aren't necessarily looking forward to returning the week after, but you do come back to your regular spot and hope Dabi will show. Your heart almost stops in your chest when you see him walk through the entrance of the bar, and before you can contain the words, they tumble out in a frantic sound, "where were you last week?" You are standing in front of him now, looking up at that little grin he always has on his face whenever you get annoyed with him. You cross your arms over your chest and exclaim, "Well? I'm waiting."

"Aw, did you miss me, baby girl?" His poker face never falls, but his grin grows a tiny bit wider as he stares into your fiery eyes. And without warning, he wraps one of his long arms around you, pulling you into a tight side hug.

A small eep escapes you at the movement, and you move to push him off. "What the hell are you doing? Answer my question, you jerk!" You practically yell as you push away from him. He doesn't let go and just pulls you tighter to him, and you find yourself not struggling anymore as you take in the weathered texture of his coat pressed against your arm and the smell of cigarettes on him. You feel your walls starting to fall entirely, "I was really concerned about you." You let out in a whisper, not really wanting to admit it to him, but you weren't sure how you would feel if something like this happened again.

"Aw, babe, you did miss me." The delight in his voice makes you shiver a little. He gestures you over to your regular spot at the bar, and the two of you sit down in the weathered chairs. He puts a calloused finger under your chin to bring your gaze to his. You stare into his cerulean depths that you used to hate and find yourself softening a bit. "I had to do something for The League, but I don't have your number, love. So I couldn't call and let you know I wouldn't make our date." His face relaxes a bit as he watches your frown turn into a bit of pout.

"Okay, well fine, I'll give you my number. But don't just text me randomly, okay?" You huff as you lay your palm flat and motion for his phone. Dabi chuckles and shakes his head before handing you the phone without another word. Lifting the phone, you type your number into the cracked screen and hand it back to him. "Okay, now text me, so I have yours. " You say, moving to grab your phone to wait for his upcoming text.

"Hmmm, I don't think so, doll," Dabi says, taking in your furrowed brow and then relishing in the way you roll your eyes at his taunting.

"Fine, whatever, Dabi. Just text me next time you can't make it." You say sourly while searching for the bartender to order your drink. You don't want Dabi to see the slight sting of hurt in your eyes because he won't give you his. The rest of the night goes as expected, drinking and talking, and you find yourself laughing more, not realizing how much you truly enjoyed this time with him.

The two of you depart with another hug, this one much shorter than the first, but you find yourself leaning into the warmth that radiates from him instead of wanting to push him off. As you begin walking down the street home, you feel a buzz in your pocket. Pulling out your phone, you unlock it to the message from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: Hey babe, see you same time next week - D

A small smile comes to your face as you type a response back.

The following year you grow in your relationship with Dabi. There are never really any titles between the two of you. Just that the two of you are together. You never meet The League. Dabi is insistent you aren't involved with them in case things go awry. But you spend a lot of time together when work or villain work doesn't take up the time.

Your relationship together comes to a head at the very start of the apocalypse. The two of you sit snuggled together on your worn-out couch watching the news as a young reporter stands in front of a local research building in town and goes through the facts of citizens becoming "mindless and violent in a matter of hours." And how they have people under lockdown who are experiencing symptoms of this "mysterious illness."

A slight shiver goes through you as the reporter goes on. "That's really scary. No one knows what's causing it," you reflect aloud while you lean in closer into Dabi's outstretched arm that is resting around your shoulders.

"Aw, babe, don't be scared. Those mindless fools wouldn't stand a chance if they tried to lay a hand on you while I'm there," Dabi says with a glint of amusement in his voice. He always sounds so condescending, but you know it's the truth. Remembering a time at the bar when a guy wouldn't take no for an answer-not that Dabi really followed that either- but Dabi didn't hesitate to let the guy know you were already taken. He flirts and likes to jab a lot, but there’s a complete shift in the atmosphere when he's serious.

"Ugh, Dabi, you know I don't mean them attacking us. It's whatever is causing it that worries me. What happens if one of us gets it? There's no cure right now," You say and worry your lower lip between your teeth.

Dabi picks up on your anxious state, and his cocky facade fades. He pulls you on his lap so that you are fully facing him with legs pressed on either side of his. Dabi holds one large hand on your waist, and the other he presses to your cheek. Leaning your cheek further into his hand, Dabi moves his thumb to trace over the slight marks in your lip where your teeth were just placed. "Hey, listen to me, nothing is going to happen, okay? I won't let any of these maniacs hurt you, and we won't catch whatever they have," Dabi says tenderly as he gives you a small smile.

It's nice to see him like this- when his mask of superiority disappears, and he's focused on encouraging you. It doesn't happen often because you like to keep walls. Comfort from Dabi doesn’t need to happen often but you can’t say you don’t like it when he does. You enjoy these softer moments with him that only you get to see.

You pull Dabi into a light kiss. The gentle pressure of his mismatched lips fit seamlessly against yours. You pull away after a moment to look into his deep blue eyes that now captivate you. Dabi has that coy smile still on his face, and as his eyes meet your in that moment, it's like the horrible events of the world aren't happening anymore. All that seems to exist is the two of you, not the TV still prattling in the background or even the noises outside your city window.

Dabi lightly caresses your cheek down to the length of your neck and finally ending near where your collarbones sit. Everywhere he touches leaves behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin. Even with these simple touches, you can feel yourself starting moving against him, trying to create a bit of friction. Dabi knew how easily he could rile you up with simple touches. It was frustrating at times, and you wished you could have the same effect on him.

"I love you, babe. And no matter what, I won't let anything hurt you," Dabi tells you, and you swear his voice seems to be cracking, but the moment is gone before you can think about it. Dabi lives on being mysterious most of the time, and you rarely get to see this vulnerable side of him. Even if he doesn't say it behind that mask of cockiness, you can feel that there is fear of what's happening right now. Or at least that's what you think the fear is from, but Dabi will never admit the fear is from losing you to whatever this is. He isn't sure he could survive this hell of a life he's been given without you.

Your heart aches at his sincere words from earlier, and you whisper back, "I love you too, Dabi." Drawing him into a more intense kiss. Dabi begins to run his fingers along the hem of your t-shirt and delicately brushes the skin right under with his fingertips. You feel a moan bubble up inside of you, but his mouth moving against yours swallows the sound.

"I want you so bad, doll. Let's just forget what's going on right now, let the world fall away," he says in a husky voice after breaking away from the kiss.

You nod to him before letting out a content sigh and letting your eyes fall shut while Dabi continues to trace his hands over your body. Dabi trails his massive heated hands under the thin shirt you are wearing and down to your hips. You can feel the bulge of his cock through his jeans as it begins to press against your clothed core.

Opening your eyes, you meet Dabi's half-lidded lustful eyes and bite your bottom lip and allow yourself to give into Dabi taking over you.

You can feel your heart beating a little faster, watching Dabi drink in every ounce of you. Dabi is one of the only men you have ever trusted like this. To have you so totally vulnerable. It's strange how someone you didn't want anything to do with for months has become someone you rely on for everything- love, comfort, pleasure.

Dabi places open-mouthed kisses along your neck that leave you breathless. "Fuck, I'm obsessed with every inch of you," Dabi growls out before returning to kissing and sucking your neck and exposed collar bone.

You grip Dabi's shoulder to ground you back from floating away into complete bliss and tip your head out to give him more access to your neck. Dabi's mouth is like a flame that licks at your sensitive skin as he continues to trail his mouth all over. You could be trapped in this pleasure forever.

Dabi grasps the back of your head and roughly brings your lips back to his. With your mouths slotted against each other, you moan as Dabi finesses you to where you are lying on your back on the old couch, and he is hovering over you.

You break the kiss to quickly pull off his jacket and expose Dabi's scarred arms. And just as you have only trusted Dabi fully with yourself, he has done the same. Of course, the two of you have had sex with other people, mostly with lights off clothing still left on to hide the imperfections. But with each other, there is no more hiding.

Heat begins to pool in your belly as you watch Dabi pull off your shorts and slide his warm hands all the way back up your leg and massage the plush skin of your thighs. Once your shorts are removed, Dabi brings himself back to your face and, with a lustful sigh, traces kisses on your jaw and neck.

"Just relax and let me take you away from all of this, love. I want to hear every sound you make." He growls as he moves down towards your pussy and lays himself between your spread legs. Dabi lifts your thighs to rest on his shoulder as you let out a little gasp. You can feel the excitement and heat rising in you.

Dabi kisses down the inside of your soft thighs and stops to suck at certain spots, leaving minor marks in their place. He stops for a moment until you are looking directly into his captivating gaze, and then he licks a stripe up your pussy over the cotton of your underwear. You let out a breathy moan at the sensation. That jerk knows precisely what he's doing.

Dabi then grabs the thin material of your underwear and rips them away from your body with a tear. Groaning, you are about to curse at him for ruining another pair but are cut short when he sleekly licks up your folds. A delicate, playful moan leaves your separated lips. Your eyes close, and you cling onto his white shirt to ground yourself.

"Baby girl, you're soaking wet," Dabi teases as if you weren't aware but cuts off any retort again with a quick suck to your aching clit. You can't hold back the loud moan that bubbles up in your throat.

Dabi smiles against your lower lips and continues his ministrations. His mouth is open wide, so he can move back and forth from quickly licking up and down your sensitive pussy as well as suck softly on your clit. You feel light-headed at the extended sensations, little whimpers and moans falling through your lips. Dabi has always been able to leave you speechless with just his mouth.

"Dabi please," Your breathing hitches, and you moan out as he flicks his tongue repeatedly over your small bud. You can feel that hot pressure building in your stomach as Dabi continues. He laps at you like you are holding the only source of liquid left in this world, his tongue working wonders on your dripping hole.

Dabi pulls back and looks up at you as you eagerly meet his blue eyes, begging him to continue. He smirks before lowering his mouth back down and laps at your sopping core teasingly. Fucking bastard. Always a tease from day one.

Dabi licks his lips before returning to eating you out even faster as a series of cries and obscenities continue to fall out of your mouth. You can't hold them back. His mouth is so hot and wet against your core.

With another curse, you tell him you are close. A sigh escapes your lips, and your head tosses back onto the cushy arm of the couch. Dabi pulls away but inserts two fingers inside of you in place of his mouth.

"Fuck, sweetheart, as much as I want to hear you beg and plead for me, I want to taste you right now." Dabi lets out with a rough voice filled with desire. You whimper as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. He smirks at your blissed-out face and then returns his mouth to your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit repeatedly as whines and cries continue to be let out of your mouth. Back arching, you bite at your lip, barely able to even process the words that came out of Dabi just a moment ago.

"Oh, fuck, Dabi, please. Please, I'm gonna cum soon." The words fall from your lips, and your mind feels numb to everything except the feeling of Dabi's tongue on your pussy.

Dabi grunts and gives another hard suck to your clit before pulling away just a bit. "Hell yeah, babe, come all over my face."

Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens with another cry as your legs begin to tremble as the tension starts to rise in your stomach. One more lick, and you know you'd come. Dabi's continued suckling of your clit sends you careening over the edge. Your cries fill the room, and your back arches as your legs try to squeeze around his head. Dabi continues to suck and lick as you orgasm. Panting and with your eyes twisted shut, you cling to his shirt as you start to come down. A final curse gently leaves your mouth as you wait for your legs to stop shaking. Dabi takes one last long slow lick before sitting back and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You can't bring yourself to move from the couch, still panting and weak.

Your mind starts slowly coming back to you as the bliss begins to leave. The realization of everything happening in the world washes over you. But you were thankful Dabi took the time to distract you from the horrors of what's going on. You move over so Dabi can cuddle with you on the couch. It isn't much room, but it feels good to be this close with him, wrapped in each other's arms. You both slowly start to drift off to sleep, but you don't miss Dabi's final words mumbled into your hair, "I'll never let anything happen to you."

Shortly after that, the world seems to descend into madness. The illness grows more and more rampant. People are getting infected every day. Whether it's through the original source of contamination or by those contaminated biting or scratching someone. Panic spreads throughout the country. But through all of it, you and Dabi stick together.

From the moment it was declared an emergency Dabi was banging at your door, insisting the two of you find somewhere safer than your run-down apartment. Because while the two of you needed sleep, whatever these things are could go non-stop, and your apartment was not fortified.

You and Dabi lost your quirks a month after the emergency declaration, along with the rest of the population. People couldn't fight these zombie-like creatures off anymore. Like all the movies and TV shows, the bodies became more zombies than actual living people.

After a while of jumping around from a destroyed place to another, the two of you found yourself in an apartment building that had a sturdy enough entrance that the zombies couldn't break through. The daily struggles were still hard, though. Finding food and water to survive became a daily task for the two of you. Through all of this, he never left your side. He always insisted the two of you stay together. And so you did. Fighting the living dead, but sometimes the living too when things got even more terrible, and scavenging was your everyday routine now.

You lost track of time and could only follow when the seasons changed. But Dabi was really the only thing getting you through this. Seeing people destroy one another for food or shelter destroyed you inside. Never knowing if these zombies you were killing were someone you had known at one point, or just another faceless dead person tore at every corner of your brain. Dabi stayed strong for the two of you. Holding you every night on the ripped blankets, you could gather for the strange bed the two of you slept in. You would sob into his muscled chest about how you couldn't live in this world anymore, how you couldn't kill another person, alive or dead.

But Dabi would never let go. He would hold you close and let your never-ending tears stain the only shirt he had now. He would rub your back with his warm hands; even though his rusting staples would catch on your shirt and rip from his skin, he still did it. He would hold you until you fell asleep, whispering how strong you were and how he could never do this without you. And after all the tears, you were thankful too. Because without him, you'd be dead or alone. You knew that without Dabi, you would have never survived this long.

But you could see Dabi was hurting too. You couldn't find supplies to treat his decaying skin. He hid his daily pain from you, but when Dabi thought you weren't looking or listening, he would hiss at the pain of another staple pulling at his burnt skin or let out a huge sigh when he would try to put it back together, but it wouldn't cooperate.

The only hope the two of you held onto was each other and that possibly a cure would come soon. Not that either you could really access that information with no electricity; there wasn't any way to get information other than hearsay. You survived the best you could in this world.

And as much as this wasn't what you would have picked for either of you, at least you had each other. You tried not to think of a time when you wouldn't be together, even though the chances of that happening were high- it hurt too much. To survive in this world without Dabi would be too fucking much.

It's almost as if fate chose to play a cruel game with the two of you. It seemed like a "normal" trip out to scavenge for food and water. The two of you had to expand your search area since places closer were mainly empty.

This time you found yourself outside of a convenience store, a reasonable distance away from your home. It hadn't been completely destroyed by some miracle and was not overrun by the zombified people. Still, in a state of decay, though, Dabi was quickly able to kick his heavy boots through the door and get the two of you in.

Sauntering through the gas station, you quickly begin to pick up canned food and stale bags of chips and shove them in your worn backpack. Dabi is doing the same on other aisles until he lets out a chuckle. "Hey babe, look what I found." He says with a cocky voice holding up a few boxes of wrapped condoms above the aisle for you to see.

You roll your eyes. "Thanks, Dabi. Is sex really what we want to be thinking about right now? Let's just get this shit and get out." You let out with an annoyed huff and continue to push the limits of how much your bag can hold.

Dabi comes over to your aisle and snakes his arms around your waist with your back pressed to his chest. He places his chin on your shoulder and whispers in your ear. "Yes, all I can think about is getting your beautiful body back home and finally being able to finish in you, and with these, I can." He lets out a dark chuckle as he pulls you closer against him and bucks his hips playfully.

"Okay, horn dog, let's get this shit done, and then we can do whatever you want back home." You let out with an eye roll. It's hard to stay mad at him. You know he's trying to keep things light for you, to keep you happy because he can see how hard this is. And his regular teasing is one way he knows will bring a smile to your face.

As you are finishing up trying to take inventory of anything else in the store that you can take back, you spot the clear plastic that holds the cartons of cigarettes behind the cashier counter. While you didn't necessarily want Dabi smoking, you knew he missed the vice. Cigarettes were just as hard to find as medicine in this new world. Smiling to yourself, you move behind the counter and reach for the plastic flap to lift it up.

As you try to lift the latch, it doesn't budge. You look around for what might be blocking it before seeing the tiny silver keyhole to one side of the compartment. Crap, of course, it's locked. You really wanted to surprise Dabi with this. Maybe you still could. The key had to be here somewhere, right? You think while scanning around the counter. You try searching through the counters for a hidden key but no luck. Letting out a heavy sigh, you call Dabi over.

Dabi wanders over to your annoyed face and can't help but smile at your slight pout. "I wanted to surprise you! But I can't open it. Can you get it, please?" It comes out almost like a whine as you gesture to the cigarettes.

Dabi's smirk turns into a genuine smile, and he pats the top of your head before saying, "My sweet doll. Thank you for thinking of me. Let me help you out." You could smack him, but instead, you watch as he hastily rips the plastic covering away and slips his hand below it to grab one of the wrapped cartons.

At that moment, everything changes. The fun times the two of you were having shatters as a loud alarm rings through the store. Panic floods your system as you stare at Dabi wide-eyed. "There is no electricity. What's happening? There shouldn't be an alarm." Horror is laced in your voice as words spill out of you. Every walking corpse within miles will be here soon with the sound.

"Fuck, must have had a battery attachment. Come on, let's go." Dabi's usual playfulness is gone as he abandons the cigarettes and grabs your hand. He's grave now. Getting the two of you out of here safely is his only goal.

You follow Dabi quickly, a hand grasped tightly in his as he runs towards the broken-down front door. And that's when even more terror settles into you. Zombies are pushing their way through the open door. Their rotting bodies and white eyes focused on the area where the alarm is coming from. There weren't many around when you broke in, but now it seems like they are multiplying by the moment.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Dabi curses under his breath, quickly turning around and pulling you towards the building's back exit. You follow behind adrenaline surging through your veins fueled by your flight response. Dabi grasps at the metal handle to the back door and shakes it only to find it locked. "Damnit!" he shouts before kicking the door violently.

Your heart is pounding, and you feel helpless as you stare at Dabi while he continues to slam himself at the door. While the front door was glass and flimsier, this door was only budging slightly. With all your focus on the door, you don't notice the continuously growing herd filtering into the gas station. Not until you feel one brush against your shoulder.

Your eyes widen as you feel a scream bubbling in your throat. This is it. This is where the two of you die and either become fodder for a herd of living dead or turn into one yourself. Your brain is pure panic as thoughts fly through faster than you can catch them. You don't even realize you have screamed out Dabi's name until you see his face turn towards yours.

His typically blue eyes are almost entirely covered by his dark pupils as he takes in the monstrosities behind you. But unlike you, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls out a knife he keeps in one of his pockets and slams it into the decaying skull of the zombie that is right behind you. Splurts of dark blood hit your cheek as he pulls out the knife, and the creature behind you crumples to the floor.

"Keep trying the door! I'll keep them off you." Dabi shouts, pulling you into the spot he previously stood. Your heartbeat is so loud you can feel it in your head, and you can't even make a coherent response as you begin to slam your body against the solid surface. You can feel it give a little more with each push of your body, and everything in you is screaming not to give up. Doing your best not to glance at Dabi's grunting and movements as he continues to try and put down zombie after zombie.

You can't give up; this can't be the end . Desperately your brain is screaming as you continue to feel the door give more and more. Your shoulder hurts from the continued impact, but you aren't letting it slow you down. You can feel it; it's almost there.

Suddenly the door gives, and you can see the sun shining through on the other side. You cry out in relief and turn back to tell Dabi to come with you. But as your eyes meet, fear fills every ounce of you.

He's still fighting them off, but there is a gaping bite wound on his right arm— rows of teeth marks embedded in his skin. You feel like you're going to be sick. There is no coming back from this; there's no known cure. At any point within the next twenty-four hours, he would be another one of the walking dead, no sense, no logic, and looking to consume others. This can't be happening, this can't be happening. Your heart is sinking with every second that ticks by.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out! Get out!" Dabi screams at you as he embeds his knife in another zombie.

"No, no, I can't leave without you! I-we can find something. I'll find something, please! Come on, Dabi, I can't do this without you!" You are sobbing now, hot tears streaming through the dirt and blood mixed on your face. An ache in your heart starts to form. You know you don't know how to help him, but you'll do anything to not leave him behind.

Dabi lets out a grin despite the feral dead people closing in on him. And gives you a wink before saying in a voice that seems too calm for the situation, "Come on, doll, you are the most intelligent person I know. You have to go. Live for us, babe. Look at how far we've come. Go show this world that it won't ever break you down. I love you, and I'll come to find you wherever you are in the afterlife and annoy the shit out of you. Now go!"

It's like your heart is being ripped into a thousand pieces. Your breath comes out in short huffs, moving towards hyperventilating. You want to go back to Dabi and cling on for dear life, but you won't let him die in vain. Not after that speech. That would be an insult to everything the two of you have overcome. So with all your strength, you give your lover, the man who has come so far with you, the last look before letting out a final "I love you too" and burst out the door.

You don't look back, aching feet propelling you forward as tears continue to stream and fall off your face. When you first met Dabi, you would have never thought you'd miss him. But you will , you'll miss every snarky comment, every flirty glance, and the tender way only he has loved you. The man that you were sure was just some asshole trying to get laid became the love of your life and sacrificed himself so you could live. And you could never let that go to waste.

#smut pile collab #Dabi x reader #Dabi smut #tw: character death #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #Dabi fanfiction #my fic #how far we've come

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mossybank · 3 years

Text

Baby You're a Haunted House — W. M.

Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader

Summary: Y/N helps Wanda grieve and gain closure on Pietro's death in their own special way, a perculiar way to flirt in the eyes of others. — au/non-canon accurate timeline

A/N: Baby You're a Haunted House is a song that's been stuck in my head on a loop, and although it was only meant to be a place holder title I've actually become quite fond of it.

semi-proofread

Y/N had been meaning to talk to Wanda for a while, amongst all the chaos of Ultron, they didn't get a proper opportunity to introduce themself; and to do it afterwards, as the girl realised she'd lost her brother, just seemed crass. They thought that maybe now they'd left it too long to introduce themself, coming off as rude and tone deaf for not doing it earlier, but the longer they avoided doing this the worse it would become.

In order to give themself an excuse for waiting so long, Y/N made Wanda a welcome hamper of sorts. They'd scoured the Eastern European aisle at the shop in hopes of finding something Sokovian, hoping it would remind Wanda of what was once her home, but they also feared that would be cruel, they didn't want her to feel anymore homesick than she most likely already did.

Eventually they threw a few things together, mostly sweets and snacks of the sort that they thought she'd enjoy, and anxiously knocked on her door before entering sheepishly.

"Hey, uh, I—" They glanced at Wanda and then at her TV before fixating their gaze to the floor, it was much less intimidating, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, no," Wanda shook her head and paused the TV, the laughing track stopping, "Nothing important."

Y/N knew Wanda would have a Sokovian accent, she was from the country for gods sake, but that didn't stop the tips of their ears from heating up at the sound of it. It was typical, but Y/N simply had a thing for accents, and they hoped Wanda hadn't noticed.

"I wanted to introduce myself, I've know we've met before," Y/N cringed, righting a robotic threat to earth seemed like a bit more than just meeting, "But we haven't met-met... I, um, I brought you a gift!" They held the gift basket out awkwardly, a lopsided smile overtaking their face.

Wanda chuckled quietly at Y/N's antics and shuffled from her position of the edge of her bed, making space for Y/N to sit beside her and patting it. Y/N quickly obliged, placing the gift basket between them.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like so it's a bit of everything."

"Thanks.. No one else has done this for me." Wanda said fondly, looking through the basket with a content expression, "You didn't need to do all this."

Y/N looked down at their hands, and shrugged, "I just wanted to make sure you felt welcomed here and stuff, y'know? I know what it's like to be a new Avenger, it's a lot of change at once so I just want to make sure you're doing okay."

After some small talk, the two decided to watch one of Wanda's sitcoms together. Y/N wasn't too sure what it was called, but they'd definitely ask her later in order to binge it themself.

"We used to have movie nights as a child where we'd only be allowed to speak english to help us learn it," Wanda's expression dropped temporarily, gazing to the side. Y/N followed Wanda's gaze, eyes landing on a framed photo of her and Pietro.

"... I'm sorry." Y/N said hesitantly after a second of silence, "If there's anything I c—"

Wanda's expression caused Y/N to stop talking, she'd clearly heard that phrase repetitively from everyone.

"The only thing you could do to make me feel better would be to bring him back." She said bitterly before looking at Y/N, her sour tone dropping off of the end of the sentence as her eyes met their, "I didn't mean that, I shouldn't... It's not your fault."

Y/N shook their head, cutting Wanda's apology short, "No, no! You have every right to be upset and excited, but.." They trailed off, a moment of debate in their brain, "If you, um, really wanted to see him again, I could try help?"

Wanda raised a brow, frowning slightly as if she thought Y/N was making some sick joke.

"The little ghost army thingie back in Sokovia when we were fighting Ultron? That was me! Uh.. Trying to reach Pietro would take time though.. Usually ghosts follow people around but I haven't seen him.."

Wanda sighed and shook her head, "You don't have to do that for me, you looked exhausted from how you used your powers back there."

"But I'd like too! And it'd be a great bit of training even if it didn't work, I've never been able to summon anyone specific before." They tried to reason, but ultimately they wouldn't do anything without Wanda's permission.

"... I'll think about it."

It was a week later when Wanda next spoke to Y/N regarding their conversation about Pietro, they'd spoke in between but dancing around the topic of a dead brother was difficult work. Eventually, they had to discuss it once more.

"I'm willing to try, but if anything goes wrong, that will be it." Wanda comes to the compromise, presenting her deal to Y/N one morning in the kitchen. Y/N looking at Wanda and nodding, zoning out slightly and taking in her features, only snapping back into reality as boiling liquid came into contact with their hand.

They cursed, almost dropping their mug, foiled by the classic sitcom trope of overpouring your coffee and burning yourself as the result of some stupid crush.

"Oh, Y/N! Are you o—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" They reassured, shaking their hand dry, ignoring the sting of the burn, "If you give me an hour, we can try immediately!"

Wanda nodded and promptly left, she longed to truly make sure Y/N was okay but held back,she’d dread to come off too doting this eraly in their relationship. Y/N's shoulders slumped and they let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. They'd barely knew Wanda, whatever they were feeling had to go away soon, it was just unprofessional when their whole thing right now was helping the girl talk to her brother one last time!

The medium was pulled out of their deprecating thoughts by a boisterous chuckle, turning their head, they recognised it to be Thor.

"Ah, young love," The god teased, giving Y/N a firm but well-meaning pat on the back, "Good luck, young Y/N."

Y/N blushed and defensively assured Thor that is was 'nothing like that', but it was clear to everyone else that it absolutely was.

Arriving to their semi-impromptu séance, Y/N gave Wanda a run down on what was going to happen. Usually, when summoning a spirit, Y/N only summoned those already around, but it seemed Pietro had already moved on from this world- it made sense, his death was somewhat honourable and he didn't seem to have any unfinished business or grudges- that just meant Y/N's process would be a little more difficult and required a few more attempts. For a summoning like this, they'd have to temporarily leave the mortal realm, appearing to those around them as unconscious. Luckily for Y/N this was something they were particularly good at, often doing so accidently and getting stuck when their powers first manifested as a child.

Laying down on the floor, Wanda knelt beside them with a soft grip on their hands ready to wake them should something go wrong, Y/N closed their eyes, the last thing they felt before slipping away being Wanda tenderly stroking her thumb across their knuckles.

With a start, Y/N woke up, sitting slowly and looking around their surroundings. Blue, everything was blue here and although usually a tranquil colour, here it was chilling and made everything feel off. Standing up, Y/N thought of a game plan, there was no point wandering around the blue plains of this realm, they'd get nowhere; not that there was anywhere to go or find regardless. The best way to find a spirit was to call out to them, and so that's just what they did.

If they steadied their breathing and kept quiet enough, they could make out distance conversations in hushed tones, they sounded like gibberish to them though— whether they were speaking English or not, they didn't want Y/N to know what was being said, and so that's how it stayed.

Their first few attempts at summoning were futile, each time they'd wake up with a start, taking a surprisingly deep breath and breaking out in a coughing fit, Wanda vigilantly by their side to help them through it, always offering a glass of water or a cough drop.

The pair began to hang out outside of Y/N’s attempts to contact Pietro, by now the two both knew they most likely wouldn’t find his spirit, but neither of them mentioned this, thinking giving up on the summoning would mean they’d stop hanging out. Of course this likely wasn’t the case, but anxieties between the two certainly made it seem so.

One thing the two seemed to bond over a lot was food; it was what Y/N used to introduce themself to her and now Wanda was teaching Y/N a childhood recipe, opening herself up to them. There were little things the two did that everyone on the team seemed to notice except for them; for example, when telling Y/N to stir the food, she place her hands softly over their own to show them how to do it, her touch lingering longer than it should have. Occasionally other avengers would point this out, only being met with blushes by the two of them and various statements of denial, but with those statements of denial came coy but questioning looks from one to another as if to ask if they really meant that.

“It’s always best to try summoning on a full stomach, you never know how long it’s going to take so you should always be in good condition.” Y/N explains, cleaning the plates they’d just used to eat.

“How did you get your powers?” Wanda asked, warily, getting her powers wasn’t the best experience of her life and she’d hate to know something similar had happened to Y/N.

Drying up the plates, Y/N leans against the counter and faces her, “They run in the family.. sort of .. I mean, everyone on my mums side has some kind of fascination with the supernatural, but I’ve by far shown the most power in generations, apparently.”

Hearing that put a smile on Wanda’s face, she was glad it was something that came naturally to Y/N and that they could so easily embrace it.

Done with the washing, Y/N held an arm out for Wanda, her gladly taking it, and the two walked side by side ready for another attempt.

Y/N found themself once again in the place they'd now dubbed their own personal blue hell. They shivered, fiddling with the fraying hem of their sleeves and looked around. It was empty, of course, it always was. Occasionally they'd accidentally summon someone, but sensing that they weren't wanted, they often left quickly.

"Pietro?" Y/N yells, cupping their mouth to try enhance the sound of their voice, it was no use, "Wanda misses you.."

They were yet to find a buzz word to pique the spirits attention.

After a few more minutes of waiting, Y/N sat down, they sighed exaggeratedly,

"Quick bastard, powers probably made him move realms quicker too.." They muttered angrily in defeat, about to begin their process to return back to Wanda.

Just as they closed their eyes, Y/N felt a sudden gush of air pass them, jumping, they looked around. Nothing.

Groaning, Y/N put their head in their hands, at this point they were just being teased.

Another gush of wind went by and Y/N swore.

There was one final gush, stopping when a bright light stood in front of Y/N. It was impossible to make out what, or rather who, it was, no features discernable through the blue light that shone out the figure, so bright Y/N had to cover their eyes.

After a few seconds, Y/N knew they needed to question it, ".. Pietro..?"

The figure moved, tilting its head and trying to speak back, but just like everyone else here, it was distorted and hard to make out.

The longer Y/N looked at the figure, the less it began to shine, features becoming more readable.

Just as its face was finally revealed, Y/N only just catching a glimpse of its face, they awoke back in Wanda's room, the red-head leaning over them with a worried expression.

"Y/N!" She exclaimed, helping them sit up and handing them tissues, it was only then that they realised their nose had been bleeding, "I was so worried." She kept her hands on their shoulders.

Y/N looked at her confused, tilting their head in question.

"I—.. You, you starting shaking and mumbling something, then your nose started bleeding," She looked down nervously, "I've been trying to wake you up for ages, nothing was working.."

She was clearly distressed, her hair a mess from running her hands through it and tears brimming her eyes.

"Wanda..." Y/N pulled the girl into a tight hug, "it's okay, I'm fine," They reassured.

Wanda sniffled and pulled back, "We.. We should stop trying to do this.. I don't want it to hurt you." She says sternly after calming down.

Though disheartened by the comment, Y/N knew it was coming, Wanda’s one condition from the start had been that they stop immediately should something go wrong.

As Wanda and Y/N had feared in their heads, they didn’t seem to speak as much since stopping the seances. It was weird, like something had changed, Y/N would try make conversation with Wanda but she’d only give them a guilty sort of look and make an excuse to leave the interaction.

It started to frustrate Y/N after a while but they didn’t want to push her, they knew they never should of suggested summoning Pietro, it would only bound to cause more heartbreak for the poor girl. Knowing this, they wanted nothing more to fix it; they never wanted to go against Wanda’s wishes, but they were just so close the last time they tried and knew that they couldn’t give up till they succeeded.

A week later, Y/N was content, but clearly exhausted, they would try summon Pietro’s spirit often, thinking that they could surprise Wanda, but they’d gotten so used to trying with her by their side offering comfort that it know became difficult to carry out this ritual alone. By now they'd accepted that perhaps this one spirit was just too far gone to bring back.

Reluctantly, contradictory to their original plan of letting Wanda approach them first, Y/N decided they needed to say something. They refused to go see her empty handed though, they made her an overly extravagant mug of hot chocolate in order to satiate her sweet tooth. Besides, it was much better to talk over a drink.

Opening her door after knocking was awkward, making a mug for themself too, the whip cream and marshmallows piled high, Y/N had no hands free. This caused them to need to do an awkward elbow maneuver with the door handle, the drinks threatening to spill. Wanda gave Y/N a funny look for a second, questioning their difficulty to open the door, before noticing the two mugs in their hands and quickly made her way over to them to take them.

“It’s just the way you like it..!” Y/N says, looking down at the floor and grimacing at where some of the hot chocolate had stained right outside of Wanda’s room; they’d have to remember to clean that up later if a janitor didn't get to it first.

Wanda smiles, humming, she thanks Y/N and puts the drinks down. The two sip on them awkwardly for a minute, unsure of what to talk about without addressing the elephant in the room. The two of them seemed to think alike, breaking the silence in unison,

“I missed you.”

Both seemed shocked by the others words, eyes widening and cheeks dusting a warm hue, before laughing.

Wanda held her hand out for Y/N and they took it, hands resting intertwined on the coffee table, “I’m sorry for avoiding you, I just... seeing you like that.. I felt like it was my fault.”

Guilt pang in Y/N’s chest and they shook their head, giving Wanda’s hand a comforting squeeze, “It’s my fault, I should know my limits, I do know my limits, but I decided to exceed them anyway. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“Maybe,” Wanda starts, a teasing undertone in her voice which lightens the mood, “You could take me out to apologies?”

The suggestion alone was enough to knock the wind out of Y/N, they did a double take before finally bringing themself to respond, “Like a.. like a date..?”

“If that’s what you want.” God, this girl could be the death of Y/N.

“You know, this whole time I’ve been berating myself in my head for liking you.” Y/N chuckles, letting Wanda in on the secret, knowing from her amused expression that she had been doing the same, “so, its a date then?”

A wide smile spread across their face being able to say that, widening further as Wanda nods in confirmation. This whole time Y/N had thought the only way they’d be able to get to Wanda’s heart was to bring her brother back, that ended up not being the case at all.

They realised when thinking this, zoning out, they’d been staring at Wanda this whole time, who looked back at them with a bright red blush across her face, the sight was almost too adorable for Y/N to handle.

Wanda looked at her and Y/N’s joined hands and then back to their eyes, “Could I.. kiss you?” she asks catching Y/N off guard, “To seal the agreement to our date!” She adds on flustered, the line sounding much smoother in her head than it did aloud.

Y/N didn’t seem to catch the awkwardness in her words, nodding enthusiastically, then toning it down quickly thinking that it was too much, and lent forwards, Wanda doing the same.

They closed their eyes, tilting their head to the side in order to not ruin the moment by accidently bumping noses or heads.

As their lips touched, everything felt just right, it was like electricity and fireworks, like the perfect first kiss every book seemed to describe. It was like a gush of fresh air, and as the two pulled away they gave each other matching coy smiles. Fully invested in each other, it was like nothing else existed around them. Maybe that’s why they failed to notice a new addition to the room.

A fake gagging sounds comes from behind the two, causing them to jump and quickly look for the source of it. Like the realm Y/N had traveled to many times before, this figure was blue, but now in the realm of the living it wasn’t as bright nor did it sound so distorted. It took a second, but the two finally realised what, or rather who, was in Wanda’s room; Pietro.

Wanda gasped, letting go of Y/N’s hand and standing up, hesitantly approaching Pietro who gave her a smug smile. The two looked at each other for a while before going in for a hug, Pietro spinning Wanda around. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight , though it also frustrated them a bit, if they’d known all it would take to summon him was to get with Wanda, they would have made a move much sooner.

Y/N got up and nervously stood behind Wanda, not wanting to say anything and ruin their reunion. Tears brimmed in Wanda’s eyes, but this time they could tell they were from happiness. She stepped away from Pietro and put a comforting hand on Y/N’s arm.

“So you two are a thing now?” Pietro questions, crossing his arms and giving Y/N the classic look of an over protective brother who would kill them should they hurt Wanda. Looking back at Pietro, Y/N noticed he was still slightly transparent, he wouldn’t be able to keep up a physical form in this realm for long.

Wanda looked down, blinking away her tears and looking back up with a smile on her face, corners of her mouth quivering slightly, “You didn’t see that coming?” She uses Pietro’s catchphrase against him, voice wavering slightly as she does so. Hand still on Y/’N’s arm, she lead them and Pietro back over to the table, the three would have a lot to talk about till Pietro had to leave once again.

Taglists;

Wanda Maximoff Taglist — @tatesimper

#wanda maximoff x reader #Marvel x reader #Scarlet witch x reader #Wandavision #Mcu #Avengers #Pietro Maximoff #Quicksilver #One shot #Headcanon #Imagine #Drable #Elizabeth olsen x reader #Gender neutral reader #Male reader

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youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi @seokjinssymphony @kpooplifeforever @explosiveranga & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up.

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end.

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous.

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed.

You were simply just having a bad day.

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent.

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits.

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe.

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!”

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful.

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder.

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated.

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring.

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing."

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you.

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat.

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you.

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane.

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy.

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane.

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!”

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR. Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water.

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life.

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call.

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away.

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved.

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day.

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun.

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated.

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things.

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water.

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided.

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land.

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you.

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped.

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime.

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point.

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag.

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering.

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response.

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up.

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in.

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet.

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last.

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside.

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.”

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well.

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected.

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

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about a girl x kurt cobain

hi guys omg- it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something, and my nirvana obsession has risen once again so what a thought into writing something dedicated to the one and only kurt himself <3 thank you ever so much to the person who requested this, i managed to write something i think i’m somewhat proud of aha

Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 2.165

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Waiting for him to appear on stage for the first time was like a moment snatched out of a drunken stupor: so surreal I had to continuously pinch myself every few minutes for reassurance that this was really happening. With a mind cluttered in thought, it became hard to sit still for as little as ten seconds without being accompanied by an itch to either scratch my scalp in nervousness, or chew on my already bitten nails - attempting to sand off their roughened look from my previous antics. The most I had drunk that night was a couple sips of my gingerish coloured beer - with the room buzzing in anticipation and curiosity for who was headlining the bar tonight, it caused everything that even shifted slightly in its position to irritate me in all ways plausible. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t manage to let anything settle in my stomach without having a sudden rush of nausea bubble up in my throat; it was Kurt’s first performance tonight with his new, reformed band, and being told that he was quite nervous triggered an anxiety in my veins stronger than the pain of the first rush of heroin dousing my body after months of not being able to get hold of it - allowing all my stress, agony and dread to escape my body at an expeditious rate as my body adorned the poison I was granting into my limbs. It was inevitable: Kurt was bound to be nervous before his first performance with new material to a bunch of strangers that had never seen the wonders of his model-face before, and although he had performed many times, a grasp of worry still caught into his hair as he tried to pass the time, like a knot you seemingly are unable to rid of, leaving you with no other choice but to resort to grabbing a pair of kitchen scissors and chopping that bunch of hair off. Which he had done many times.

Whilst time speedily went on, I found myself calming down by a small amount, consoling myself with different types of remedies in solution: downing my drink, ordering another (this time a gin & tonic to spice things up) and repeating the same, before slamming my now empty glass to the table and standing up to get a clearer view of the stage, knowing they were going to come on soon. All that wondered in my mind was Kurt, quickly reminding myself over all the time we had spent together - the times when we had first become friends. I had been introduced to him early last year when Krist had asked me if I wanted to see his new band he was bassing for - and immediately was I enthralled, knowing that once I had laid my eyes on him, I would never be able to detach them from him: a poor man, masked in aristocracy in ways not physical as it may seem. He captivated me. His presence carried such warmth it was able to counter against the sun; your cheeks immediately burning as he locked eyes with you. You instantly wanted to wrap your arms around him, and when talking, you were instantly drawn to his short yet meaningful phrases, laced in passion stronger than an avocado seed. As my eyes were locked firmly together with his, I was able to notice something so pure and wondrous I had been unsuccessful in finding in anyone else: care. A simple emotion, somehow one of the hardest to master. Regardless of what the subject matter might be, he always carried a certain interest to it - constantly having something to say. Even if you found him sitting excluded from everyone else, you could notice that there was something either battling his mind, or inspiring him for something - new music, lyrics perhaps. It’s enticing, it's human. He’s human.

Suddenly, a distorted strum of a guitar abruptly blared through one of the many amplifiers dotted around the small stage at the end of the room. The crowded space was now silenced by the hasty noise, my (slightly intoxicated, yet conscious) head now instantly turning to see what had happened - although I was for certain it was the time I had been most excited for. Little whispers and hushes were the only things you were able to hear for the span of a few seconds as the amp's sound had silenced itself, a small buzz affiliating throughout the room, a couple of heads turning back and forth to see the number of people collectively awaiting to listen to the music of the unknown band performing tonight. My eyes stayed glued to the stage as I pictured his character, standing there in the middle, Krist and Chad capturing the rest of the space, adorned by their instruments - playing along to Kurt’s beautiful melodies. Gazing at his figure, beautifully formed with such masculinity, decorated with concerning parts of emeation, slowly embarking its way through to the middle of the stage - guitar gripped firmly in arm - birthed dozens of baby butterflies inside my stomach, tickling my insides in all sorts of ways. My nervousness resurrected itself once again, as I had come to a realisation that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.

Silence.

No introduction, nothing. From his immediate grace to the stage, I could tell he was nervous; the bright light emitting onto his face allowed me to see his features much more prominently - allowing you to just about to see the small stubble that was forming on his face from his forgetfulness to shave in the morning. However, I wasn’t able to admire his face for long, only for a few seconds before he fixed his gaze to his electric guitar, placing his fingers on specific chords, then turning to stare at his bandmates. A couple looks were shared between them all, a mere roll of the eyes from Chad, a small smile from Krist towards Kurt - for motivation, as the good friend he was. Kurt on the other hand didn’t change his facial expression, only nodding his head at both the boys before switching back to stare at the instrument adorned by his grip, beginning to bob his head slowly - counting himself in. Even from afar I was able to tell that at that single moment, he didn’t carry a care or a worry for anyone but his guitar, focusing all his energy and thought into this one specific thing: the start of the performance.

1...2...3...4

As the music began, a smile branched onto my cheeks instantly. A song I recognised, my heart warming as I realised what was playing. About a girl, the song we wrote together.

Usually, Kurt would write alone, not wanting anyone else’s input and ideas; all the band played was what Kurt had written, for it was truly only his work on that stage, just a few people helping out to put it together in life form. However, there was a significant time after a band practice weeks ago where I had attended due to me having nothing else to do, and watching the three of them play always made me feel content - holding my heart with hope for the new wave of music they were producing. As they were packing up their stuff at the end of the rehearsal, Kurt had slowly wandered off from tidying up and had come up to me, awkwardly wanting to show me what he had written for a random song: hungry for my opinion even when he never really cared what anyone thought of his music. We ended up co-writing that specific song together, the song sounding the room at this very moment. As I stared at Kurt all that was met with my eyes was his entire concentration to perfect everything that he was playing; every move of the finger producing a different sound as he attempted to hit all the ones significantly partnered with the song. He knew I was watching him, that’s why he played this song first and foremost.

Lifting his head up from the guitar, his mouth instantly pressed itself onto the microphone, revealing his raw, raspy vocals. My eyes were physically unable to detach themselves from the sight I was seeing at this very moment. They had performed multiple times before, yet this time, something felt different. New. Almost as if everything pieced in together, and with just a bit of sanding around the edges - they’d be perfect, unlike any band I had ever seen live. Watching the crowd’s attention simply staying undivided towards the band made me feel a sort of elation the morning of Christmas would give you, the sensational feeling hitting you that its the date that brought everyone together; this time the music was the thing that brought everyone together. My eyes scanned the crowd, noticing some people bobbing their heads, surprised by their immediate tunes that were being emitted from the song, widening my smile - if that was even humanly possible at this moment. Their fresh, uncensored, gruffy sound was something not many bands at the time even thought about playing - that was for people who were behind their time, Sex Pistols era almost. The feeling that warmed my heart at that moment was something indescribable - illegitimate for words. It felt like a lighter had torched its way into my body, the sharp pain bruising a bright crimson all the way up my torso to my cheeks, a breath hitched back in my throat as I slowly figure out the way to breathe again. The pain that caressed my heart so dearingly was also paired with a strong sense of joy. Happiness. Delighted that the pieces of such a complex puzzle were fitting together.

As a minute or so went on, the crowd slowly began to get more and more into the music, some people now swaying their hips or dancing around with their friends. I couldn’t help but wonder how Kurt was beginning to feel, or what he was already feeling. Euphoria at the highest degree, something so strong not even a multiload of ecstasy could even attempt to give you. I found myself singing along to the words quietly, resulting in the people around me noticing that I was the only one who actually knew the song apart from the band. A random guy had turned to look at me, drink firmly gripped in hand, and with his rough attempt to shout over the loud music, whilst pointing towards the stage. “You know them?”

For a couple of scenes everything went still. I stopped moving, my eyes slowly getting lost with the man standing on the stage in front of me as I accidentally ignored the stranger’s question. I continued watching the stage, my eyes focused on Kurt - until his eyes abruptly opened, locking in with mine instantly. Startled, he noticed my starstruck expression, a little grin hanging off his lips. Maybe it was out of arrogance, however I knew he wasn’t planning on taking them off soon - not that I’d be the one to complain. His eyes were bright, glimmering with happiness; filled with life and fertility as they pierced into my soul so daringly, carrying the same devilish want that Adam had been challenged with once told not to eat the apple off the tree - his mind so intrusive he was simply unable to resist. His wondrous orbs carried a hint of impish, vanity, as they were also laced with a hint of seductivity and perhaps a shed of horniness, sudden greed blistering over his ocean-like eyes; he wanted it all, in the most wicked of ways. It would be a white lie if I had said this didn’t make me feel some sort of way; had he never looked at me like that before, I might’ve said otherwise. Perhaps his sudden bursts of confidence spewing out of him made him act this way, regardless, I knew it was something real. His eyes bestowed the same hunger he had initiated into his sudden approach when asking me what I thought of the music he had written, the first time me and him truly bonded together. I seemingly was unable to detach my eyes from him, for my body, heart and mind stayed encompassed in thought of how bewildered I was; in simply over a year, I had watched him grow, become more confident, sanguine, and it was all showing off now. He was staring at me as if the world was ending, and that I was the last thing he wanted engraved in his mind, aiding him into dying in such complacency it was almost as equal as equilibrium in the world of absolute zero. “Yes I do,” I muttered, nudging the unfamiliar person whom I hadn’t even set eyes upon. Feeling his gaze burn into my cheek, I continued to focus my eyes on Kurt, my tongue licking the sides of my mouth as I figured out words to muster. “That’s my boyfriend,”

#kurt cobain x reader #nirvana #kurt cobain #dave grohl #krist novoselic #90s #grunge #nineties #band imagines #imagines #fluff #smut #angst #my writing #grunge is not dead

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bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

if i keep my heart out of sight

summary: Apollo used to think Klavier was an open book - someone honest, someone uncomplicated, someone who didn’t have anything to hide. But when Klavier asks Apollo to accompany him on a visit to see Kristoph, Apollo finds himself starting to think otherwise.

word count: 4.2k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day three of seven (prompt: "protection"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some point in time between Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song If I Keep My Heart Out Of Sight by James Taylor.

“You don’t have to, Apollo. I know I’m probably asking too much of you, so if - ”

“No, i-it’s okay, you just - you surprised me. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there! Only...we’re not going on your bike, are we?”

Klavier blinked. His expression scared Apollo; he’d never seen Klavier so stoic, so serious, not even during the most crucial moments of a trial. Then, Klavier burst into laughter. “Achtung, I ask you to come with me to visit mein Bruder in prison, and that’s what you’re concerned about?”

Huffing, Apollo narrowed his eyes at him. “Actually, I’m more concerned about you calling me ‘Apollo’ a second ago. You feeling okay, Gavin?”

“Obviously I’m feeling just fine, Forehead, as you can plainly see by me wanting to talk about Kristoph for a change,” Klavier drawled, his lazy smile betrayed by the sharp glint in his eyes. “And nein, not my motorcycle. Did you forget I have a car?”

“Apparently,” Apollo said. “You ever mess up the exhaust pipe on that one, too?” Now it was Klavier’s turn to glare. “Kidding, kidding. So, uh...what brought this on? Why do you even wanna see him?”

“Misguided need for closure?” Klavier let out a short, harsh chuckle. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

Apollo had to look away from Klavier for a moment, the rush of emotions that had crossed his face just then too overwhelming to bear. They were standing in the courtroom, which was long empty now that their latest trial was over. Phoenix and Athena were waiting for Apollo in the defense lobby, while Trucy was back at the agency, eagerly awaiting the outcome. For Klavier, on the other hand, the only things waiting for him were the journalists on the courthouse front steps and the paperwork on his desk at the prosecutor’s office. “And...why do you want me to go with you?” Apollo asked, looking back up.

Klavier shrugged. “We don’t hang out enough,” he replied, grinning cheekily. He then turned and headed for the courtroom doors, lifting a manicured hand to wave him off. “I’ll text you, ja? Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.”

“Liar,” Apollo muttered, rubbing his wrist where his bracelet had squeezed him.

_____

Another week or so went by before Apollo found himself getting into Klavier’s car, his stomach turning unpleasantly. It was mid-morning on a Saturday, a time in which he was usually at his most relaxed - sleeping in, watching TV, and hanging out with his cat. But now, all he could think about was Klavier’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“...Gavin.”

“Ja?” Klavier’s response was too quick, too loud.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Apollo asked. “You shouldn't force yourself to do something you don’t wanna do. If he, I dunno, contacted you and called you out or whatever - ”

“He didn’t,” Klavier interrupted swiftly. “And before you ask, nein, I didn’t contact him, either. Just this once, I’d prefer that he didn’t have the upper hand.”

Apollo’s face softened; he nodded. “Good call. Who knows - maybe it’ll work in your favor.”

They pulled into the Central Prison parking lot less than thirty minutes later. Apollo, trembling with anxiety, followed Klavier closely as they made their way through security. Prison, Apollo thought rather stupidly, felt cold, impersonal. At least Klavier radiated warmth, familiarity, though the guards seemed surprised to see him. That was to be expected, Apollo supposed, since it had been nearly two years since Kristoph’s imprisonment, and Klavier had never visited until now.

“Here he is,” one of the guards said gruffly after leading them through a confusing series of corridors. “Go on, then.”

Things were unsettlingly quiet for a moment. Apollo and Klavier stared at the reinforced door before them - Kristoph was no longer behind literal bars - waiting, anticipating, dreading what was to come. The only view they were afforded was a small window of an even smaller room, meaning they would only be able to see Kristoph from the waist up at most, even if he was on the complete opposite side of his cell. His back was to them, hands clasped neatly behind him. Klavier’s breath hitched. Kristoph turned abruptly at the sound.

“Ah.” Kristoph smiled pleasantly. “What an unexpected surprise. Mr. Justice, I didn’t know you still cared.”

“Hardly,” Apollo said through gritted teeth. Already, he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Gav - Klavier asked me to come, so I did.”

“Still taking orders from a Gavin, are you?” Kristoph stepped closer. His face was gaunt, his skin ragged. Even his hair seemed to have lost its shine. “And here, I thought you were working for Wright. Or does he not pay you enough? Honestly, I wouldn’t think he’d be able to pay you at all. He’s very fond of working pro bono, from what I remember. How...charitable of him.”

“Hallo to you too, Kristoph,” Klavier said evenly, stepping in front of Apollo. “If you’re done being an arschgeige, it’s me you’re talking to, not him.”

Kristoph’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have guessed it, what with you shaking like a leaf.”

Klavier sucked in another breath between his teeth. “Do you really have nothing to say to me? Do you not think of our parents and what they think about you? What everyone thinks about you?”

Kristoph smirked, taking a few measured steps back. “Did they not teach us not to concern ourselves with the opinions of those who don’t matter?”

“So breaking Mama and Papa’s hearts, that doesn’t matter to you?” Klavier snapped. “If I were to bring them here, could you really say that to their faces?” Apollo glanced at him, worried. He’d never heard either Gavin mention their parents before, had always assumed they were gone in some sense. He couldn’t imagine what they were like, what Kristoph and Klavier’s childhood had been like, for them to turn out the way that they did.

“You’re better than that, Klavier,” Kristoph scolded lightly. He seemed to be enjoying himself; it made Apollo’s throat burn with disgust. “Emotional manipulation, hypothetical scenarios...they aren’t becoming of a prosecutor of your caliber.”

“That disappointment you feel? It’s mutual, vertrau mir,” Klavier retorted, letting out an irritable exhale.

“Is that really all you came here to ask me about?” Kristoph paced to the back of his cell, neatly dropping down onto the small cot he'd been given, covered with a threadbare blanket. At the very least, Apollo was satisfied to see how little he had. Phoenix had told him what Kristoph’s first cell was like, how infuriatingly luxurious it was. This was more fitting for a man of his morals. “If I’m broken up about hurting poor Mother and Father’s feelings?”

“Nein, that’s only the beginning,” Klavier said coolly. Apollo shivered, moving away entirely so Klavier could stand directly in front of the little window. “You know, even now, there are still people who think that I’m the arrogant one. The one who so desperately seeks validation, while you don’t have a care in the world. But tell me, Kristoph - if you really care so little about what people think, why are you the one in prison for killing someone who passed you over for a case that would've made you famous?”

Kristoph scowled. “Klavier…”

“And does it bother you, knowing that even before you became a killer, that everyone always preferred me?” Klavier continued, unflinching. “Our parents, our teachers, our family friends...the world at large.”

“Your silly insults are more suitable for a playground than a prison, how depressing,” Kristoph said, quickly regaining his composure. “After all this time, your lack of maturity still disappoints me. Not surprising, though, considering you were worshipped by the masses from a young age. But that worship, it doesn’t quite fill that emptiness, does it?” Klavier went pale.

Apollo let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The hell does that mean?” he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the prison’s hallowed halls.

“All Klavier ever wanted, ever since he was a little boy, was to be loved. How asinine,” Kristoph drawled. “It was our parents’ love of soaps and Austen novels that...inspired him. Made him the romantic he claims to be. Personally, I don’t believe he was ever deprived of love. As he said, our parents adored him, our teachers and classmates thought he was just so charming...but apparently, that was still never enough.”

“Kristoph,” Klavier warned, eyes narrowing. “Halt mal.”

“Did you know, Mr. Justice, that he’s never been in a long-term relationship?” Kristoph’s gaze went to his brother’s reddening face. “For all his talk, all his literal song and dance about love, he’s never had what anyone would call a romantic partner. Just...sex and bad dates.” He cocked his head, looking at Klavier inquisitively. “Is no one good enough for you, Klavier? Is it that you haven’t found anyone yet? Or...is that you have found someone, only they have no intention of ever loving you back?” He neatly folded one leg over the other, smirking. “I’m inclined to believe the latter. I know your tastes, after all.”

“You don’t know me,” Klavier said lowly. His fists were clenched so tightly, he was leaving fingernail indents in his palms. “I don’t think you ever did.”

“That’s more than most people can say,” Kristoph replied. “When was the last time anyone cared enough to get to know you?”

Klavier reeled back like he’d been hit, his eyes wide and suspiciously wet. “I - I - ”

“Alright, enough!” Apollo said sharply, tugging on Klavier’s elbow. It took a few tries before Klavier moved away from the door, his chest heaving with emotion. Apollo cast him a brief, concerned glance - Klavier refused to look back - before stepping in front of him so he could look Kristoph in the eye. “You know what, Mr. Gavin?”

“Tell me,” Kristoph said, smiling devilishly.

“I obviously wasted my time thinking about what I was gonna say to you, if I was gonna say anything to you,” Apollo said, his own hands trembling by his sides. “But I’ve made up my mind. I-I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of letting you continue to stroke your own ego. Save that for when you’re alone.”

Kristoph chuckled, amused. “I’m sure that sounded wittier in your head, Mr. Justice. Next time, perhaps.”

“Asshole,” Apollo muttered, pulling on Klavier’s arm once more. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before we do something that gets us thrown behind bars, too.”

Klavier was worryingly silent, barely managing to plaster on a polite smile for the security guards who led them out. By the time they returned to Klavier’s car, Apollo expected him to be furious, to be beside himself, to be completely falling apart. Instead, Klavier was smiling, leaning casually against the side of his car like nothing had happened. “Achtung, I’m starving. Where do you want to eat? I’ll pay.”

“I - huh?!” Apollo’s anger was quickly replaced with confusion. “Wait, we’re just gonna...eat? After all that?”

“Maybe today will finally be the day you have a meal with me, ja?” Klavier teased, his grin widening. There was no trace of emotion in his eyes that suggested he was feeling anything less than perfect. “I mean it, Forehead. You choose.”

“Um.” Apollo cleared his throat. “I...I guess I have a place in mind.”

_____

Klavier stared down at his food with more suspicion than Apollo had ever seen anyone have while looking at a bowl of ramen. “...Gavin?”

“This might contain more sodium than I consume in an entire week,” Klavier mused. He then picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Apollo exchanged glances with Mr. Eldoon, who merely shrugged and returned to his station by his stockpot. Sighing, Apollo started eating, too. He’d given up on the notion of Klavier talking about what had happened, and honestly, he couldn’t blame him. There was a reason Apollo despised Kristoph like no other, even after all this time. The less said, the better.

“It’s good, right?” Apollo said, chuckling awkwardly. He wasn’t sure whether to go with small talk or stifled silence.

“My compliments to the chef,” Klavier said, loud enough so Mr. Eldoon could hear. He seemed unbothered, waving a hand in bare acknowledgement. “Anyway, what are your plans for the rest of the weekend, Herr Forehead?”

“The same thing I do every weekend - sleep, video games, more sleep,” Apollo replied. “How ‘bout you?”

“MIght go for a run tomorrow, it’s been some time,” Klavier said, popping a piece of chashu into his mouth. “But sleep sounds sehr gut, too. I worked more than usual this week, so maybe I should sleep in, get a massage…”

“Sounds...nice.” Apollo was starting to think silence was the better option. He felt seconds away from bursting with a dozen questions he knew he wasn’t going to get answers to. “Hey, are you - ”

“Do you - ” Klavier cut himself off with a soft laugh. “Sorry, you go first.”

“Are you feeling…” Apollo trailed off when he realized Klavier’s eyes were fixed on him intently; there was something in them that almost felt like a warning. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Never mind, i-it’s not important. What were you gonna say?”

“Do you…” Klavier went quiet for so long, Apollo turned back to his ramen, intensely aware of how close they were sitting, how uncomfortable they both felt. “...regret coming with me?”

Apollo nearly choked on his noodles in surprise. “Oh - no, no, n-not at all! I mean, it’s not like I wanted to see him again, but...I’d hate to think what would’ve happened if you’d gone by yourself.”

Klavier hummed. “...then let’s not think about it, ja?” Just like that, he was smiling again. This time, it looked off somehow. “Herr Blackquill told me Taka made a nest in your hair the other day. Your forehead makes quite the landing zone, doesn’t it?”

“You shut it or I’m stealing your egg,” Apollo threatened, elbowing him. Klavier laughed, making a point to eat the remaining half of his soft-boiled egg before Apollo could snatch it from his bowl. Hesitating, Apollo set down his chopsticks. “Actually, y’know what? Never mind my ‘never mind’ - are we really not gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Klavier reached for his tea. “I asked if you regretted coming with me, you said nein. What else is there to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, everything?” Apollo shot back, trying not to raise his voice. He didn’t want Klavier to think he was angry at him - after all, for once, he really wasn’t. He just wanted something, anything, aside from Klavier’s too-bright eyes and his indifferent smile. “Gavin, he - I - ”

“I think I liked it better when you called me ‘Klavier’,” he commented, taking a long sip.

“Don’t change the subject,” Apollo said, frowning. “Look, I-I’m not saying we have to talk about it now, but are you...okay?”

“I’ll be better once I get that massage,” Klavier said airily, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I should book it now before I forget. Personal massage therapists can be so finicky, you know? Especially when I want something specific.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “I see what you’re doing, Gavin.”

“Making an appointment? Ja, Forehead, very observant of you.” Klavier turned to look at him, then winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll have my full attention again in a moment. I know you’re desperate for it. Just be patient, bitte.”

“You are impossible to talk to,” Apollo grouched, picking up his chopsticks again. “Fine, I give up. I guess I won’t, quote-unquote, ‘get to know you’ after all.”

“Hey.” The sudden bite in Klavier’s voice made Apollo jump. “Don’t do that.”

“I - ” Apollo shrunk in his seat, simultaneously stunned and subdued. “...sorry. Sorry, that crossed a line. It’s just - you’re…”

“I hate it when you sound like him.” Klavier turned back to his own food, pocketing his phone more forcefully than necessary. “It happens more often than you think, you know.”

“I...didn’t realize.” Apollo tried, and failed, to clear the lump in his throat. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, painfully aware of how their legs were pressed together, how they kept brushing against each other’s elbows and shoulders. “Listen, um...I know it might not seem like I’m on your side most of the time, but...if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. No judgement.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Forehead,” Klavier said, though not unkindly. “Anyway, I won’t bother lying to you, I won’t insult your intelligence. I think I do enough of that in court. So...I’d rather not talk about it at all. Why bother?”

“Why bother?” Apollo repeated, confused. “You don’t wanna, I dunno, process your feelings or whatever it is you’re s’posed to do?”

“And then what?” Klavier sounded more bitter than angry now. “Talking about my feelings won’t make them hurt less.”

“I...guess not,” Apollo said slowly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Right now, it seemed like nothing would bring Klavier any kind of comfort. “...besides, it’d be kinda hypocritical of me to ask someone to open up, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know. I...haven’t had the chance to get to know you, either.” Klavier finished his tea, then wiped his mouth. Another uncomfortable silence passed between them. “After all, it seems like neither of us is particularly forthcoming.”

Apollo shot him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, that, uh, that about sums it up.”

Klavier then hung his head, almost as if he were ashamed of something, possibly himself. “...sorry, Apollo. I don’t mean to take this out on you, it’s just...I’m not used to this.”

“Visiting your brother?” Apollo guessed.

“Talking about mein Bruder.” Klavier gave Mr. Eldoon a grateful smile when he wordlessly came over to refill his tea. “Or talking to you, whichever one sounds better. Or, you know, worse.”

“Try all of the above?” Apollo suggested, managing to get a short laugh out of Klavier. “Hey, I’m just keeping our options open. And, um...it’s okay, Gavin, you’re fine. Things got...really rough back there. I don’t blame you for being...you know.”

Klavier nodded slowly, his expression inscrutable. Suddenly, he sat up like he’d just remembered something. “Ach, look at me - I still haven’t said danke schön for today!”

“Oh. You’re, uh, welcome?” Apollo turned back to his food and began shovelling noodles into his mouth, his face growing steadily warm; he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“Wait, I haven’t actually done it yet,” Klavier chuckled, the light in his eyes gradually returning. “Danke schön, Herr Forehead, for coming with me to see Kristoph. For...cutting him off after he said...you know…”

“...that.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” They both went silent again, though it wasn’t nearly as stifling this time. Klavier waited patiently while Apollo finished his ramen, humming idly to himself. He seemed to be in better spirits now, though there was still a fog in the air that hadn’t quite lifted.

“I can tell you still have questions,” Klavier observed, right as Apollo was taking his last bite.

“I-I’m not gonna push it!” Apollo protested. “You don’t wanna talk, you don’t have to talk. Simple as that.”

“Pick the easiest one, then, and I’ll answer it. Just so you don’t walk away empty-handed.” Klavier’s smile was pleasant, friendly, as if he’d merely offered to play a game of twenty questions to pass the time instead. Apollo stared at him for a little too long, still unsure of how to figure Klavier out, if he’d ever figured him out.

“Okay. Um…” Dozens of questions seemed to flood Apollo’s mind all at once, none of which seemed “easy”. None of them seemed remotely appropriate to talk about here and now, not while they sat on rickety seats at a noodle stand on a colder-than-usual Saturday afternoon. He supposed there was one question that seemed less invasive in comparison, only he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer and all it implied. Apollo sucked in a breath. “Was he right about you, er…‘finding someone’?”

Klavier blinked. “...are you trying to ask me if I’m single?”

“Gavin, I swear to - ”

“Because I’d rather not get into it,” Klavier continued. “Ja, I don’t have anyone. But I do have someone. Someone who means a lot to me, even if...even though they barely give me the time of day. And...that’s all I want you to know.” His voice cracked slightly.

“I...oh.” Apollo was more confused than ever. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“I can’t believe that’s what you went with,” Klavier said, laughing quietly, more to himself than to Apollo. “Of all the things to ask about, achtung. My relationship status, Forehead, really?”

“Apparently.” Apollo finished his tea as well, then sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Well, this has been...awkward.”

Klavier couldn’t help but snort. “You don’t say.” He then softened. “I’m still grateful you’re here all the same. Even though it made you uncomfortable, you stuck around. Danke again, I mean it.”

“You needed someone to look out for you,” Apollo shrugged. “That’s why you asked me, right? Not ‘cos we don’t hang out enough or whatever that bullshit reason was that you gave me, but ‘cos...I-I was there. When it happened. I made it happen.”

Klavier stood, averting his eyes so Apollo couldn’t see his face. “You could’ve said no. To be honest, I was expecting it.”

“I’m sorry you expected it,” Apollo said, his voice barely above a whisper. For some reason, he felt as if he couldn’t speak at his usual boisterous volume. “And I’m not saying, y’know, sign me up again, but...if you ever go back...let me know, okay?”

Klavier merely hummed, then tossed a handful of bills in Mr. Eldoon’s direction before Apollo could even pull out his wallet. He wordlessly started heading across to the street where his car was parked, Apollo trailing after him. “What about you, Forehead?”

“Huh? What about me?” Apollo asked. He was really starting to get mood whiplash, though it definitely wasn’t the first time today or even the first time in the last ten minutes, not by a long shot.

Klavier smirked. “Have you…‘found someone’?”

“Wh-what the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Apollo exclaimed. “And even if I did, I-I wouldn’t tell you!”

“Then let’s keep our secrets, shall we?” Klavier sounded strangely serious all of a sudden; it sent a shiver up Apollo’s spine. “Let me take you home now, ja? I think we’ve had more than enough of...everything.”

“Agreed,” Apollo said, getting back into Klavier’s car.

The drive back to Apollo’s apartment would’ve been completely silent, if not for Klavier’s insistence on blasting the radio at nearly ear-splitting volume. It didn’t leave Apollo much room to be alone with his thoughts, though he supposed at a time like this, he was glad to not have the opportunity. He snuck the occasional glance over at Klavier, who seemed to be back to his usual self - drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, head bobbing along in time with the classic rock they were listening to, lifting a hand every so often to fiddle with his bangs. If Apollo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought this morning never happened. He found himself wondering, of all the countless number of times he’d been around Klavier before, if he really was as calm, cool, and collected as he seemed to be.

“Have a good weekend, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said once he stopped outside of Apollo’s building.

“You too,” Apollo said, getting out of the car. He hesitated the moment his feet hit the sidewalk; he turned back to look at Klavier. “Hey, Gavin? Good luck with your...someone. There’s no point in me telling you, y’know, that you should think about moving on to someone who actually cares about you, ‘cos…” He swallowed. “...that’s just not how it works. You just - you end up feeling your feelings before you even realize you have feelings. And it sucks. Like, a lot.”

Klavier smiled ruefully. “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

“Gavin - ”

“But I appreciate the sentiment all the same,” Klavier finished, grinning. “Speaking from experience, are you?”

Apollo glared. “Gavin,” he repeated, more bitingly this time. Klavier merely laughed, tossing his head back as he did. His blindingly white smile was even brighter in the sunlight; everything about it seemed familiar to Apollo somehow.

“Ja, ja, I hear you,” Klavier said, still chuckling. “Auf Wiedersehen, Apollo.”

“See you around,” Apollo replied, waving as Klavier pulled away from the curb. He let out a long, desperately-needed exhale, then turned and headed into his building. Their conversation still felt disjointed, unfinished, and he knew he had to be okay with that. He had to, or he was never not going to think about Klavier and his indifferent smile ever again. Right as he reached his door, his phone pinged, informing him that he’d gotten a text message.

maybe we’ll get to know each other someday, ja?

Apollo bit back a smile, then sent a reply before heading inside.

I think I’d actually like that.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the first of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. So...this got angsty. Someday, I'd like to write a fuller version of this premise; I feel like Dual Destinies implies that Apollo and Klavier are closer than the way Apollo makes things seem, so I can definitely picture this happening. Also, I've mentioned this before, but I weirdly enjoy writing Kristoph despite him being, you know, Kristoph.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #this got a liiittle angsty #also to the lovelies who run the archive blog (i hope this doesn't sound rude)#but i think my day two fic hasn't been archived yet! just letting y'all know #hope everyone's doing well!!

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mono-dot-jpeg · 4 years

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tower of mistakes [pt.2] - o. tooru & k. kyotani

summary; i had to use you to make me feel strong.

genre; angst with no happy ending, angst, sad, there is no happy here, regrets were made

word count; 1.3k

warnings; dark themes, mentions of scooter ankle [su*cide], mentions of bullying

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 1

a/n; so people actually want a part two of my dumbass lowkey venting with a song? litty, this is gonna be following oikawa more than it will follow y/n and kyotani so yeah. take this sequel that will never top the first part

this one will be based off the song, “my time” by bo en. the translations might not be accurate so forgive me. i know the song isn’t abt scooter ankle but it fits well with the story.

Close you eyes, you’ll be here soon.

Oikawa didn’t think much after you left the team. One less person that could ruin the team right? He thought.

At first.

He saw you in the halls once in a while. You looked so dull...almost dead. It nearly scared him. What had happened after you left? Why did you look like that now?

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 minutes

As time passed by, he watched you from afar as others hurt you with words more than actions. Is this what happened even before you joined? He had wondered. He had noticed how the new manager got too close to his teammates. He can remember how you were too scared to get close to anyone. Yet, you were somewhat close to Kyotani. Why?

I really want to sleep. But I cannot.

But he realized, you saw him as a form of protection from the world. Even with how rough and rude Kyotani was, you found a safe place with him though it wasn’t much. It meant a lot to Oikawa when he noticed how you preferred the angry male over him at first but now that he looked back at it, it made sense. Kyotani kept people away, you just wanted a safe place away from others. He was that safe place.

The rumors and everything took that away from you. He took that away from you. Oikawa couldn’t imagine the pain you felt after you were forced to quit. He took away something you found safety in. The only safe place you had was taken away from you.

Goodnight.

The new manager seemed rather lazy as the days went by. Oikawa noticed it, Iwazumi noticed it, and even Kyotani noticed it. She did the bare minimum of her manager work. y/n would always do the most. Oikawa thought subconsciously. When the new manager finished the minimum of the work, she would be on her phone.

Goodnight.

y/n wouldn’t do that. He thought again. He can remember when you were so generous with helping the others. Iwazumi often had to scold you and tell you to take a break. Kyotani would even urge you to take a break. The new manager took a lot of breaks, it was questionable to the entire team if she really did her job as manager or not.

Goodnight.

Oikawa often used to find the girl snickers with others and pointing at someone. That someone was you but Oikawa never had a chance to find out.

Goodnight.

Oikawa was restless, what more did he take away from you? What more bad did he do before you went up and left without a trace? The rumors.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

He knew how bad rumors could get. He was popular after all. He can think about a few of those rumors that made you and Kyotani uncomfortable. Sometimes you were assumed to be a couple but you knew it was far from being that.

That’s strike one.

Somebody had framed you for hurting someone. Everyone believed the rumor. Unfortunately, the team did too because all the evidence had pointed to you despite you knowing you never did it (and the mere fact that no one let you defend yourself).

That’s strike two.

You paid your way into the team. People had claimed. They thought you weren’t worthy enough to be a manager. Oikawa sometimes felt like that when it came to volleyball. He wondered how often you felt that way when you were in the team.

That’s strike three.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

Why couldn’t he realize it sooner? Maybe this wouldn’t have happened then. The dread that hung along every member of the team everytime your name would be uttered. People would talk about you as if you were an old friend but it was far from the truth. You were a victim. The team realized that. Fellow classmates didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. They were the cause of your demise.

Days go by. Oh, well. Moments passed, shattered glass.

The team lived with the guilt, the misery, the suffering of knowing that they could’ve done something but they didn’t. Oikawa watched the life get sucked out of the team as news of your death spread. It hit him rather hard but not as hard as it hit Kyotani. While Kyotani didn’t talk much to you, he liked your presence.

But his last words to you were, “Stop getting in my way!” He yelled at you before you got kicked off the team and that was the last time he talked to you. He regrets it now. He wished he didn’t push you away when you were only trying to care for him. His last words to you were burning in his mind. He hated it because he knew he was one of the reasons you were now gone.

Hands of time. Where’s that chime?

He never said anything but he knew that you found a safe place with him. He was your safe place and he managed to mess it up when it was so easy to not mess it up. He knew a lot about your situation back then, he told you to ignore it. That he would take care of it. But he didn’t. That’s what made it hurt more.

He was supposed to keep you safe. But he didn’t.

In my head. I’ll just...I’ll just...I’ll just...I’ll just...

It was the day. More like the anniversary. It was the day you died. Oikawa swallowed the lump in his throat. It was his last year in Aoba Johsai, it would’ve been yours too. It was time to pay you a visit. The third years and second years stayed behind as the first years left the gym. There’s a dead silence. Everyone knew what was gonna happen.

The walk is short. Or maybe they were too fast. They all stood in front of the gravestone.

y/n l/n

Your name was engraved with the usual stuff that would be on a grave.

Hands of time will wring my neck. Every little moment spells regret.

Oikawa’s hands shake as he places the flowers the ground. He starts to talk as if you were still there. Still there and able to be their manager. Still there and alive. It doesn’t take long for the other to join in. They seemed to understand that Oikawa did this to cope easier. Iwazumi knew he did this every time they visited you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t do it either.

But I don’t have to feel this way. As a voice inside my head.

“I’m sorry.”

Goodnight.

“We hurt you.”

Goodnight.

“You didn’t deserve it at all.”

Goodnight.

“I hope you will live peacefully in another life.”

Goodnight.

Kyotani was the first one to leave. He didn’t want to face you even in you were in a grave. He thought he didn’t deserve it. To see you. To even face you. That this was his fault. He walked. And walked.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

He stopped by the convenience store, walking right in to grab a drink and a snack. More specifically your favorites. It had become routine for him and you to go here and buy stuff. It was still routine for him. Maybe it was because it left so many memories for him. He didn’t wanna leave the memories. He wished he cherished them more.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

He arrived home, waving off his mother and father and going straight to his room. He was greeted by the corkboard that hung on his room. It was filled with memories. Memories that he wished that he was happier in.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

He sat on his bed, face buried in his hands. His shoulders trembling and before he knew it, he was crying.

Goodnight, goodnight. Close your eyes and you’ll leave this dream.

Goodnight, goodnight. I know that it’s hard to do.

“Goodnight y/n. I wish I was there for you more.”

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majorxmaggiexboy · 3 years

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idk if i’m actually going to attempt to participate but i still want to make a little list of Tober/Tember prompts and ideas of what to do with them. also tagging @f-ro-g bc New Pack. Every time i do one of these i start forgetting every media i’ve ever consumed so we’re going to see if i can at least get more than like three different fandoms on here. Might or might not come back through and flesh these out with actual details later on.

Whumptober Ideas

1) All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go/”You have to let go”/Barbed Wire/Bound - Hadestown, full stop. The whole prompt is Hadestown. It’s in the lyrics, even. It is this post that makes me finally notice the “Keep on walking and don’t look back” line in Wait For Me and i’m so angry right now

2) Talking is Overrated/Garotte/Choking/Gagged - I’m thinking a rewrite of my first Three Musketeers fic just because it was funny the first time around and also wouldn’t take much Effort. Next.

3) Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones, But.../Taunting/Insults/”Who did this to you?”

The Bradmadge Brawl of S2E1 but with passion and malice next question

4) Trust Fall/”Do you trust me?”/Taken Hostage/Pushed

Nothing springs immediately to mind but i’m leaning toward Psych or The New Pack

5) Red In My Ledger/Betrayal/Misunderstanding/Broken Nose

*slams hand on table* New Pack. Mordaunt. It writes itself.

6) Touch and Go/Bruises/Touch-Starved/Hunger

On-Drakon we’re going to give Arman and Mira some love even if only two people on this website even know them.

7) My Spidey-Sense is Tingling/Helplessness/Numbness/Blindness

TASM just for the sake of it? Undecided

8) Coughing Up a Lung/Pneumothorax/Exotic Illness/”Definitely Just a Cold”

Ben Tallmadge and the Delaware Dive next question

9) Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated/Presumed Dead/Blind Rage/Tears

Bucky it’s your turn babe

10) Oops, I Did It Again/Hospital/Flare-Up/Ice Chips

Ben you’re going back in the Delaware it’ll be so funny

11) Just Keep Swimming/Adrift/Drowning/Dehydration

Personally i think having a third Ben vs. Water fic would be the funniest possible move but Grimaud or Mordaunt could also work here

12) It’ll Be Fun, They Said/Torture/Made to Watch/Begging

Jean-Olivier comes to mind but hmmmmm there was also that one TURN S3 au that could work

13) That’s Gonna Leave a Mark/This Is Gonna Suck/Burns/Cauterization

Hmmmmmm OH! OH! Raoul! The New Pack. Done.

14) Under Pressure/Crush Injuries/Beaten/Force

It says Force and Force is Star Wars so naturally this is Mando’s number.

15) Feed a Cold, Starve a Fever/Delirium/Fever Dream/Bees

Ben Tallmadge guess what....

16) On a Need-to-Know Basis/Recovery/Scars/Aftermath

I’m thinking the Psych Not-Ghost AU would work here but there are certainly other options.

17) Field-Care 101/”Please don’t move!”/Hemorrhage/Dread

Might go with something Leverage right here just because i just watched Leverage. Nothing’s jumping immediately to mind. Warm Bodies could also work though.

18) The Doctor is In/”Now smile for the camera!”/Doctor’s visit/CPR

I’m thinking Reid just because Dr. and i’ve never been able to write Doctor Who so. What other Doctor characters are there. McStuffins isn’t in the running here. Oh! We could do something MCU, Bruce is a Doctor isn’t he? God can you imagine Dr. Hulk trying to

19) Just a Scratch/Bitten/Bleeding/Stabbing

Didn’t ... d’Artagnan once utter the phrase “it’s just a scratch” in relation to someth.....first episode, i think? Great so we have a winner, good job everybody.

20) Lost & Found/Trunk/Trapped underwater/Solitary Confinement

Weirdly Mando is the first character to come to mind. Someone beat me to 80% of my other idea but there’s potential.

21) That’s Where the Blood’s Supposed to Be/Bleeding Through Bandages/Pressure/Blood-Matted Hair

Let’s be real the only two options for this one are Bucky or Eliot and they’re virtually the same character so where does that leave me

22) They Made Me Do It/Cursed/Demon/Obsession

*vague wave* Merlin ?

23) You Break It, You Buy It/Auction/Ransom/Pursuit

That one 3M au with Athos and the big mix-up and the Oops and all the...stuff, yeah. That works.

24) One Down, Two to Go/Self-Induced Injuries to Escape/Flashback/Revenge

Holy sh- i didn’t see this one initially. I mean? Jean? Ow.

25) Hide & Seek/Escape/Flight/Hiding

Psych? Orrrrr....TGM?

26) You Will Go Down With This Ship/Fallen/Waterfall/Trap Door

I’m trying to think of literally anything i’ve ever read or watched that’s got a ship in it ummmmmmm hey what if we interpret “ship” as yeaaaah let’s do another Mando one that’ll work

27) “I’m Fine, I Prom...”/Passing Out/Vertigo/Collapse

I mean..... .... ... is there a character this doesn’t work for though? Wait. No actually let’s do Childermass since he gets that what is it an allergic reaction to magic? I mean i know Segundus gets like that to so....ha let’s make it be Both of them.

28) It’s Not Just In Your Head/”Good, you’re finally awake”/Nightmares/Panic

First thought is New Pack but it might take some pondering.

29) All Work and No Play/”You’re still not dead?”/Too weak to move/overworked

it’s like Civil War but with Bucky and Jean-Olivier having an all-out brawl good lord it’s an either/or situation.

30) Digging Your Grave/Major Character Death/Left For Dead/Ghosts

*shot of choc milk* the exact TURN AU i was Just thinking about yesterday,,,

31) Hurt & Comfort/Disaster Zone/Trauma/Prisoner

I feel like i need to put Gwynplaine here just because he hasn’t had a turn yet

Alt. Prompts

1) Losing Control

Arman. Very obviously extramuch Arman definitely. Let’s have another one with the involuntary dragon himbo.

2) Threats

*chin hands* trying to think of a character who gets threatened a lot. will circle back. I’m actually thinking Psych again but idk.

3) Caning

Ro we’ve genuinely discussed about 16 different variations on this one i think it’s Time

4) Mercy

MORDAUNT MORDAUNT NEXT QUESTION

5) Forgotten

Is it time for Jack Frost of all people to make an appearance or is this just Bucky again

6) Head Injury

It would be real easy to just put the headbonk au here but i’m going to try to show some restraint and do a different headbonk story

7) Screaming

Going to assign Gwynplaine here just because he really has been neglected in this lineup and also it would probably be good for him to vent a little bit in this manner

8) Comfort

Someone’s going to get petted like a cat and i just haven’t decided whomst but when i do it’s over for everybody

9) Self-Sacrifice

What do i even say to that i Feels like another New Pack but it’s still up for grabs tbh

10) Trapped

Tempted to pour one out and just say Bucky but idk idk we’ll think of something this is very much a first draft stream of thought general idea planning session

11) Near Death Experience

It would be hilarious to just put something like Meet Joe Black for this one but WAIT NO NO GO BACK ACTUALLY WARM BODIES LET’S DO WARM BODIES

12) Regret

It’s gotta either be Psych or TURN

13) Tragedy

My first thought is to do a damn Hannibal fic without ever having actually watched the show just because i’m still angry about how i read it ended but considering that i only know the characters’ voices from tumblr chatposts i feel like that’s not the best venue to

heck we might just do New Pack

14) Battlefield

Either TURN or New Pack or....the song’s a little bit dramatic for a Bucky but actually....unless? no....but Maybe,

15) Anxiety

Every character i’ve ever cared about could potentially fit right here so :/ Arman could have 3rd ficlet but again, literally every character, i,,,,,they’ve all got anxiety X’D

#long post

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

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Swelter Weather

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

Additional Notes: I still have plenty to write for my other series but this is the first chapter in the Modern! AU which demanded release today.

There was something about the sweet freedom of being away from the crowded streets of London that Colin loved. While he wasn’t quite ready for another adventure around the world, he did didn’t particularly care to spend the summer in his bachelor flat alone or at the family home surrounded by his perfect and over achieving siblings with their perfect marriages and lives. Instead he opted to head to the family summer home in the countryside and it was everything he wanted.

He had fond memories of his childhood here. Life was far less complicated when he and his siblings had been on fairly even footing. There was nothing to worry about how they were going to spend their afternoons – hikes, swimming or even the occasional croquet battle. No one had the same leisure between careers, families or school.

He had spent the last several weeks savoring his solitude and the quiet of Aubrey Hall. There were no schedules, no commitments and most importantly not a single person to bother her outside of the occasion phone call or text from a member of his family. If they were being especially annoying, he would turn it to silence and send them to voicemail until he would inevitable cave and respond because he did actually care about what was going on in their lives.

After a late night of eating takeout and watching a movie on Netflix, he had decided to simply not set an alarm clock for the next day. No one was going to complain about him sleeping in, so he did so. By the time he decided to move from his bed, the sun was already up the sky. He wouldn’t have forced himself up then if it weren’t for the persistent growl of his stomach demanding his attention. That was nothing new though. He was always hungry.

He pushed himself up from the comfort of his bed, padding his way down to the kitchen. If his family had been there, he would have had to make some effort at making himself presentable but by having the house to himself, he could do as he pleased and that included going straight from bed to the kitchen.

He grabbed a frying pan and put on a couple of eggs before popping some bread in a toaster. He hummed absently to himself as he moved back to the pan, working on properly scrambling his eggs. He couldn’t quite remember the song but it was probably something he’d heard during his last stint in London at some social engagement or another.

“Colin,” a voice came from behind, making him nearly jump in surprise at the sudden invasion of privacy. He spun prepared to fight off the offender with a specula despite the fact he knew the voice belonged to Eloise.

He very quickly remembered his state of undress when he caught sight of not only his younger sister but also Penelope. His eyes widened slightly and he froze, his face growing red with embarrassment.

Penelope wasn’t any less pink. Their eyes met and then quirkly averted. While he quite enjoyed the company of his sister’s best friend this was probably not something that would be on their topics of conversation. He mentally cursed as his mind processed that over the years, he’d randomly had less than innocent dreams about the girl and a few of them started with happenstance just like this but Eloise was never part of them. Now was not the time to let his mind linger to far there. He decided to focus on the Eloise part. His sister was a safe person to focus on.

Speaking of which, Eloise seemed to be the only person capable of taking action. She covered her own eyes, making a face that made it known that the whole situation was the stuff of terrors before blindly reaching for an apron that hung unused, extending it to her brother.

“Christ,” she muttered. “Cover yourself.”

Colin for his part did use it to cover his front not that the damage wasn’t already done. There was literally no way to escape the situation unscathed and he had no doubt his entire family would know about it by the end of the day. He really needed to go put on some actual clothing but first, well he felt like throwing an absolute hissy fit about the fact Eloise thought she could just show up unannounced.

“Did you think to maybe call before just showing up?

“It’s the family home. I don’t need your permission to show up. Besides, what kind of deviant runs around in the nude? We need to sanitize the entire house now.”

“People who think they have the place to themselves,” he gruffed.

It was Penelope who came out of her shellshock enough to point toward the forgotten frying pan. “Uh, I think your eggs are burning,” she managed, though honestly it was any wonder the words came out in order.

“Shit,” Colin murmured starting to turn back to the stove but it was Eloise who stopped him mid-spin.

“No,” Eloise said, reaching for the spatula and taking over the egg prep. “We’ll finish this. You go find some pants for fuck’s sake. Penelope doesn’t want to see your ass. Right, Pen?”

Penelope was noticeably quiet for a long moment but to her credit she did nod at what Eloise was suggesting. It was probably for the best if he did find clothing. Colin decided to save Penelope (and his sister) from further embarrassment. He moved past, trying to get to the door. He paused and did a little spin trying to keep some modesty not that there were any mysteries to be had at this point.

“Yes, wouldn’t want to traumatize her like that,” he said toward his sister before nodding, smiling cheekily toward her counterpart. “Honestly, you can stay but Eloise is ruining the fun. Try and ditch her before I come back, yeah?”

“I resent that,” he heard Eloise complaining after he left the room.

Penelope hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another summer locked away with her miserable family so when Eloise had offered the concept of a girl trip to the Aubrey Hall she’d eagerly accepted. It was only half way through the drive that the other girl had mentioned that they’d have to share the house with her brother.

The mere mention of Colin was enough to make Penelope’s heart skip a beat. She had a crush on him for more years than she could count anymore but he’d never given her any indication that he considered her more than a friend. He was quite charming though and he was always kind. When he would come home from jet setting around the world, he always made time to chat or dance with her.

It did very little to discourage the crush.

She had thought that with time and distance it would fade but all it took was a mention or a sighting for the whole dreadful thing to come racing back. How Eloise wasn’t aware of the crush at this point was beyond her but since it was a relatively mute point he didn’t push it. She and Colin were friends but that was all they would ever be.

The last thing she’d expected upon arrival was for her eyes to be assaulted by full-frontal Colin. It wasn’t something she’d be forgetting anytime soon either.

“I’m sorry about that, Pen!” Eloise told her after a moment as she trashed the now slightly burnt eggs and decisively started over making enough to where they could all eat. It had been a long trip after all. “This stuff happens when you have brothers. At least he was alone not that it makes it any less gross.”

Penelope didn’t want to even think about that him having someone else there. She nodded though. Eloise did have a point that she could only assume was accurate. She’d never had brothers of her own but she’d heard enough complaints about the Bridgerton Boys that she felt as if the mental picture was accurate.

“It wasn’t that gross,” Pen said after a long minute. “I mean, objectively Colin isn’t hard on the eyes.”

“Well he’s not your brother,” Eloise said making a face that made it pretty clear that she wasn’t interested in hearing how objectively not unattractive her best friend thought her brother was. Maybe she didn’t know how far back it went and she wasn’t really aiming to ask questions about it but she was aware that Penelope had been into him at points. She was also fairly sure at points her brother had probably been into her friend as well. Nothing had come of it though and she definitely wasn’t going to try and encourage it lest it all go horribly bad.

Penelope didn’t push it for her part.

They began to work in silence creating a veritable breakfast feast for three and by the time Colin rejoined them wearing shorts a t-shirt they already had the plates made and juice poured.

“Well you might have invaded my very intimate breakfast this morning but I suppose I can forgive you for being angels who cook,” he said as she moved to take a seat at the table that was far too big for just three. He did pause long enough to ruffle Eloise’s hair to mess with her before sitting in the end spot between the two girls.

“Someone has to be angelic when you’re clearly Satan incarnate,” Eloise responded stabbing a fork into her eggs and taking a bite.

“Only some of the time,” Colin confessed, laughing as he began to pick away at his plate. He offered a light smile toward their guest. “Let’s be real, Pen is the only angel at this table. Us Bridgerton come from a long line of demons.”

Eloise made a fake gagging noise at that.

“That actually explains a lot,” Penelope said after a long moment.

That managed to grab both of their attention, waiting to hear what she might have to say about demons and Bridgerton family members.

“I honestly believe you could be an incubus,” she said after a long moment, eyes directed toward Colin.

Colin nearly choked on a sausage at that, he recovered quickly though and fell into a fit on laughter. Penelope always had been witty and the fact that she thought that he could be the incubus of the family was laughable. He wasn’t the person that most people thought him to be. Of course, he was charming and could flirt with anyone but that didn’t mean he actually got anywhere. He couldn’t very well have his older brothers judging him for that though so he let people believe what they wanted to and didn’t go out of his way to correct them.

“You can’t just go around telling people that I’m a sex demon, Pen,” he said conspiratorially barely able to keep a straight face. “I mean, what I do in your dreams is between me and you. Not everyone gets to survive with their soul intact.”

“You better not be doing anything to her in her dreams or your own,” Eloise said, kicking him in the shin. “My friend is off-limits.”

Colin frowned, reaching down to rub his shin. He wanted to tell Eloise to mind her own business but before he could Penelope seemed to take it upon herself to handle that.

“Little late for that,” Penelope said knowing that by saying so she was declaring sides in this sibling battle. Colin couldn’t be more smug about it either. Eloise looked as if she could kill them both.

“I’ll try to behave moving forward but I do hope it was as good for you as it was good for me,” he said, though from the shit-eating grin on his face it was pretty clear that he wasn’t sorry at all. Especially when his gaze moved from Penelope back to Eloise. “Sorry El, I couldn’t help myself.”

“Of course not,” Eloise said, shaking her head.

If this was how the summer was going to go, it was going to be a long one.

#polin #⚜ writings — polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton

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sainedeparam · 3 years

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okay so: one book and one song for 7 oc's your choice and why!!!

Flor i am so sorry because this took me forever to answer 😭😭😭 i really had to think about what fit best and i ended up changing the “one book” to “one quote from a book” since i struggled with that but here we go. Under the cut because it ended up being too long akshsjsksl

One Song

Tate Cerati • Believer by Imagine Dragons

First things first // I'ma say all the words inside my head // I'm fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh // The way that things have been, oh-ooh // Second thing second // Don't you tell me what you think that I could be // I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea, oh-ooh // The master of my sea, oh-ooh

No thoughts, just vibes with this song. I don’t really have a reason why I chose this for Tate other than vibes. It just felt so… him, if that makes sense.

Brynn Delvaux • Born Ready by Zayde Wølf

I don't believe in no devil // 'Cause I done raised this hell // Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh // I've been the last one standing // When all the giants fell // Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh // I won't shiver // I won't shake // I'm made of stone // I don't break // Start me up // Open my eyes // Turn me loose and you'll see why // I was born, born ready // I was born, born ready // Staring at the pressure now // I won't quit, not backing down // I was born, born ready // I was born, born ready

I like powerful women. The type of women that are feared by everyone. And this song best describes the kind of vibe I was going for when playing her route in WTNC.

Ryder Vesta • Centuries by Fall Out Boy

And I can't stop 'til the whole world knows my name // 'Cause I was only born inside my dreams // Until you die for me, as long as there's a light // My shadow's over you 'cause I am the opposite of amnesia // … // Some legends are told // Some turn to dust or to gold // But you will remember me // Remember me for centuries // And just one mistake // Is all it will take // We'll go down in history // Remember me for centuries // (Hey yeah, oh hey, hey yeah) // Remember me for centuries // We've been here forever // And here's the frozen proof // I could scream forever // We are the poisoned youth

In my head this is a Villain Theme Song and he’s cocky enough for this to fit him. And this is also to implement the fact that Ryder could never really become a Vigilante, let alone a Hero. Even if he’s dating a Hero, he will always will be a Villain and I love that for him.

Amaris Voight • Control by Halsey

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head // They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead // And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head // They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead // I'm bigger than my body // I'm colder than this home // I'm meaner than my demons // I'm bigger than these bones // And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" // I can't help this awful energy // God damn right, you should be scared of me // Who is in control?

I was listening to this song while I was thinking about what I wanted to do for Amaris’ future. There is sort of a complexity of whether this means her talking to the citizens she’s meant to protect, her talking to Nathaniel + Areum or just her talking to herself. You can’t just have the amount of power she does while not being able to fully control it and not be wary of her.

Kavan Vekany • Stronger by The Score

Set me on fire // Set me on, set me on fire (whoa, whoa-oh) // I'm still alive // I'm still ali- I'm still alive (whoa) // Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life // Higher, faster, everlasting // Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life // Higher, faster, never-crashing // Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life // Stronger // (Stronger, stronger, stronger, stronger) // Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life // Stronger // (Stronger, stronger, stronger, stronger) // Bet you didn't think that I'd come back to life // I do this with conviction // I write truths and never fiction // My disease is what you fed // I can't stop with my ambition // Like a missile on a mission // I'm a force that you will dread-ead

If The Exile was a series or movie, I can envision this song being played while at the end of Chapter 3, or maybe Chapter 4 since that’s when we maybe talk to Syfin + Trystan + Our Family.

Benjamin Blackwood • My Demons by STARSET

Mayday, mayday // The ship is slowly sinking // They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling // They're all around me circling like vultures // They wanna break me and wash away my colors // Wash away my colors // Take me high and I'll sing // Oh, you make everything okay, okay, okay (okay, okay, okay) // We are one and the same // Oh, you take all of the pain away, away, away (away, away, away) // Save me if I become // My demons

This is just basically him asking for help, I just haven’t decided if I want this to be romantic or platonic in terms of he’s asking for help from.

Kai Morgenstern • Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid

Thought I found a way // Thought I found a way out (found) // But you never go away (never go away) // So I guess I gotta stay now // Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here // Even if it takes all night or a hundred years // Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near // Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear // Isn't it lovely, all alone // Heart made of glass, my mind of stone // Tear me to pieces, skin to bone // Hello, welcome home

Kai and her complicated one-sided relationship with the supernatural world. There’s a reason why she has a really high Resistance Stat.

One Quote

Tate Cerati • Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz

“Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.”

This ties to the moment he found out the truth about Daphne, and Alex. How everything just shattered for him in the blink of an eye. It also ties to other events, like finding out what happened to his mother and during the battle when Daphne dies trying to save him. It's just him not expecting an outcome that would destroy his life, in a sense. The kind of outcome where he has to live with that knowledge knowing there is nothing he could have done to change it.

Brynn Delvaux • They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera

“Sometimes the truth is a secret you're keeping from yourself because living a lie is easier.”

I headcanon that she had her suspicions about what Hunters really were. I mean you can't really be that strong and still be human. But keeping it to herself and not investigating further was better than to face the truth because being just like the kind of creatures she was taught to hunt was too much for her to handle. Even after she learns the truth during the story she is still in a bit of denial.

Ryder Vesta • The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

“Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. 'I'm okay' we say. 'I'm alright'. But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.”

I told you about what his childhood, and how he came to be working for the Phoenix Organization, so this fits into him questioning Phoenix and his upbringing. Trying to figure out whether what he was told about his parents abandoning him were true or not, and thinking about what he would do if it weren't. The slow process of finding the truth, thinking that he's okay until it hits the point where he realizes he's actually not okay and not knowing if he is actually strong enough to go against the person he was loyal to.

Amaris Voight • Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz

“Sometimes, you do things and you do them not because you're thinking but because you're feeling. Because you're feeling too much. And you can't always control the things you do when you're feeling too much.”

Every decision she made after waking up were based on feelings so they are a bit questionable even if they're not exactly bad, like not reaching out to Nathaniel and Areum. But it also fits in terms of her abilities. She has sort of learned how to use her abilities and has trained in order to be able to control her powers but she still doesn’t know the extent to what she can do so sometimes when she’s feeling too much, she can’t really control her abilities and the outcome of that is not always pretty :(

Kavan Vekany • The Burning Maze (The Trials of Apollo, #3) by Rick Riordan

“Pain is an interesting thing. You think you have reached your limit and you can’t possibly feel more tortured. Then you discover there is still another level of agony. And another level after that.”

After reading the new update, this just fits him so much. Everything he had to go through after [redacted], especially whatever they did in order for him to not be able to fully transform anymore? He’s known pain like never before, and you know it’s bad when even i think it’s too much lmao.

Benjamin Blackwood • Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

“He was not happy. He was not happy. He said the words to himself. He recognized this as the true state of affairs. He wore his happiness like a mask and the girl had run off across the lawn with the mask and there was no way of going to knock on her door and ask for it back.”

He grew up thinking that there was only one way of doing things, his father’s way. It never really hit him until he got older. For the majority of his life he just kept on doing what he was told because he thought it was the right thing to do and because he wanted his father to be proud but he was never truly happy. He never stopped to think about that feeling until later on.

Kai Morgenstern • They Both Die At The End by Adam Silvera

“I've spent years living safely to secure a longer life, and look where that's gotten me. I'm at the finish line but I never ran the race.”

My favorite girl, who hates life in NMC and being a Keeper in general. She wasn’t exactly “safe” or “cautious” when doing things before the events of kotsam but her life was never in danger, she had everything she wanted. And then, in the form of one car crash and almost being killed, he future just went down the drain and in the span of 2 years (so far) she has had so many near death experiences. She’s just so tired at this point.

#i didn’t really give a big explanation for the songs and im sorry for that. i just didn’t know what to say since some were based on vibes #and i know Benjamin’s descriptions are confusing since i haven’t talked about him or his story to you so im sorry about that too akshsksks #also. after i finished writing this i realized it ended up being pretty sad and i guess it’s just on brand for me now 😔#i love them though. they do get sort of happy endings #my babies <3 #thank you love!!#misc: asks #tag: flor ✨

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di0rtaeyong · 4 years

Text

1 Sided Love

➸ summary: Mark breaks up with you, leaving you reminiscing. finally having the courage to face him again, you both to rethink your situation. based on ‘1 Sided Love’ by blackbear.

➸ genre: college nct!, angst, drama, fluff

➸ word count: 9.5k

➸ warnings: breakups, crying, alcohol use and mention, marijuana use, suggestive scene (?).

➸ authors note: thank you for reading this! this is my first time writing a story this long, i hope you like it!

➸ media: click here for song

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

ACT 1

I swear lettin' you down, lettin' you down is hard enough…

… When it's one-sided, one-sided, one-sided love…

…Our time is, our time is, our time is up…

…Is your heart worth breakin'?

“We need to talk”.

Everyone resents those dreaded words. They are never followed by anything positive and more often than not left someone in tears, especially when your boyfriend of two years says it to you, nervous energy radiating off of him and refusing to make eye contact.

Mark had always calmed you down. Even when he was the one mad at you, there was something about him that allowed you to keep your cool and listen to him. You were an easy crier, so having someone like Mark allowed you to practice keeping your cool. In a way you had thought Mark was your soulmate.

“Hi,” he barely whispered, still refusing to make eye contact as you both settled into your chairs in the corner of the room. He nervously twiddled with his fingers, so you reached out to grab them and interlock fingers as you had done millions of times before.

Only this time Mark flinched away which cause you to pull your hand quickly and a deep furrow form between your eyebrows.

“You okay?” you asked Mark cautiously, trying to offer a comforting smile. He had never refused to hold your hand before. It was one of the only PDA action’s that both of you felt comfortable with, the innocence in your relationship still giving you both a youthful glow.

“You wanna get a drink? I’ll get you one. The last time we came here was with Hyuck, remember? You guys got the lemon tea; I knew none of you would like it but you both insisted… I’ll get you the choc- “

“Y/N.” he said firmly. He had never used this tone with you and frankly you were more curious than scared. Mark didn’t scare you. Mark was a lot of things but scary he was not. He was always there for you. He would alw-

“I think we should break up.”

If the world had ended right there and then it wouldn’t have made a difference to you because what you felt like inside was a hundred times worse.

“I- Uh- What?” you asked stupidly.

“Do you not feel it, Y/N?”, Mark asked finally looking me in the eye. The tears were starting to well up and Mark knew how much you hated crying in front of other people. But he wasn’t just ‘other people’. He was Mark and you would allow yourself to cry in front of him because he loved you and you loved him. Right?

“What are you talking about, Mark? Is this some stupid joke Donghyuck is making you do? Because it’s not funny.” You said through your teeth trying to swallow the lump in your throat that seemed to really want to ruin your strong demeanor.

Watching you try to keep yourself composed and doing nothing about it was one of the hardest thing’s Mark has ever done. He so badly wanted to reach out to you, brush away the hot tears you fought so hard to blink back and hold you against his chest as he had done over a thousand times over the past two years.

You had fallen for Mark a while before you had started dating, begging Jeno to introduce you to his ‘cute older friend’ who just so happened to be working as a children’s basketball camp coach the summer before you went off to university.

Jeno finally caved when you annoyed him enough and introduced you quickly and with no enthusiasm (“Y/N this is Mark, Mark this is Y/N, can we please go now?”). And it was that moment where you knew you wouldn’t be able to get rid of the hearts in your eyes that easily.

You had initially thought Mark was way too perfect if you were being honest. He was fit (played on his school’s basketball team), he was smart (he had gotten Dean’s list), he was good with kids (hence summer camp coach), and he was nice. He was so many things that you could go on and on about (which you did, which led Jeno to literally pay you to shut up about Mark- “Here’s a ten, it better be enough.”- which you happily allowed him to do).

After Jeno had introduced you, you and Mark had instantly hit it off. Never before had you felt like this around any boy. Of course, you had your fair share of crushes, but Mark felt different. He made you laugh in ways that made your stomach churn with more than laughter and made your head spin with happiness and your heart ache every time you parted. It was early but if you were being honest, you were in love. And you had fell hard.

But as the summer ended, you were forced to part ways with Mark. You were both getting ready to go off to university, Mark entering his second year, you your first. Countless nights spent with Mark were full with the both of you sharing your fears and dreams as you sat in the trunk of his dad’s van looking up into the sky eating melted ice cream he would buy you from McDonald’s every Monday and Wednesday night after work.

You had heard so many reassurances from him since the day you met him, that when he suggested something negative it really took you by surprise. Him telling he thinks you two should break up? Surely there must have been something you misheard.

“Y/N? You still there?”. Your gaze snapped to Mark and you finally took in his appearance.

His hair was pushed back off his face but under his eyes were dark circles from late nights and his nose was slightly red. He was wearing a black hoodie, one of your personal favourites to ‘borrow’, paired with his worn-out jeans you silently loved on him. You couldn’t see his feet but you knew he was wearing the pair of black and white Converse you had bought him for his birthday using your whole pay cheque the summer you worked together at the community centre. Jeno had laughed at you, saying you were ‘whipped’ and the expression on Mark’s face when you gave him the shoes definitely made you realize that yes, you were whipped.

Mark had spent the whole month of July talking about how he wanted new Converse, but he was trying to pay for some stuff for school, so he was waiting it out. The day after he had brought it up to you, you couldn’t help but go off to the mall and buy his size. You had regretted it the minute after you did it thinking it was too overbearing, too affectionate for someone you had just met. But when you saw the look on his face when you gave them to him eased your worries as you mirrored the smile he gave you.

What your eyes decided to focus on was his left hand, more specifically his ring finger.

The steal band still wrapped around his finger, the more delicate equivalent present on your own ring finger. The engraved initials inside the band seemed to burn against your skin.

“You’re wearing it.” You stated simply. You didn’t want to talk too much in case your voice decided to crack.

Following your line of vision, Mark focused on the ring. “Yeah. It’s a habit now I guess.”

Mark and you had exchanged these rings on the night of your second anniversary. You had mentioned you had wanted something to show Mark off (‘as a joke’ you had insisted) even when he wasn’t there, and Mark suggested rings. Sputtering out an explanation about how you were both too young to get married and to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and interlocked fingers with him. “I think that’s a great idea”.

The memory left you smiling, meeting Mark’s eyes seeing him holding a reminiscing smile as well as he played with the ring.

“Y/N…” Mark started.

“Why do you want to break up, Mark? I thought we were happy?” you whispered.

“I know, I know Y/N, we were, uh, we are, but… like… there’s so much on my plate right now you know school and the team and internships and summer jobs and you! You’re going to be even more busy and we’ll hardly see each other and- “,

“Mark, that sounds so stupid. We can just work with each others’ schedules, its not a big deal.” You said, trying not to sound desperate.

“Y/N… I don’t know how to put this…” he said, struggling to find the right words.

You were getting agitated. “Well spit it out. Say what you want then,” you said angerly.

“Okay well… umm… I umm…” he said looking down at his lap.

“Mark. Just say it.” You said blankly.

“Well… um… I’m not in love with you anymore.”

“Mark- “, but your words were caught in your throat. If earlier you felt like the world was ending, right now would be described as one million times worse.

Your ears started ringing and the room suddenly started feeling way too hot for an early September night. Your vision blurred slightly as you felt hot tears stream down your face uncontrollably.

“I have to go.” You said standing up way too quickly. The room spun with your actions and black spots danced in your vision.

“Y/N, wait, can we just talk?” Mark pleaded quickly, standing up.

A few minutes ago, you would have found your height differences endearing, adding to the long list of things you loved about him. He was always a few inches taller than you which you had always loved but now it made you feel as if he was further away than ever.

“Mark, I think that’s all you needed to say. Maybe we can talk again another day?” You proposed, knowing full well you would not be able to face Mark again without feeling that horrible lump in your throat.

Staring deeply at you for a while, he said “Yeah. Yeah, yeah that’s fine. Can I walk you home? It’s late.”

It’s 8:30, you wanted to say. It’s not late. Its not too late to think about us.

But the words didn’t come out. You just nodded your head knowing Mark wouldn’t take no for an answer and you also didn’t trust your voice.

Quickly picking up your stuff you rushed out before you could hear Mark say something about you going to fast.

‘That’s not us anymore’, you thought. You would no longer hear Mark complaining close behind you as you walked at a quick pace, would no longer laugh as he ran up and grabbed your hand swinging your arms in pure bliss.

Hearing rustling behind you, you glanced behind to see Mark rushing out to catch up with you and tears brimmed your eyes. What went wrong?

As you walked in silence for a while, focused on only the road ahead you tried to block out Mark’s warm presence next to you and the cold wind biting at your uncovered arms, the t-shirt you were wearing not doing anything to block the wind.

“Here take my sweater, you’re gonna get sick.” Mark said already pulling it off his body and handing it to you.

Weakly shaking your head in protest, you tried not to focus on the heat radiating from Mark and tried to focus on the road ahead. You were almost home. Just a little longer and yo-

“Y/N.” Mark said. You were starting to really hate this tone. He grabbed your hand and forced you to turn towards him. He struggled to slip your arms through the holes as you left your limbs limp, refusing to look at his face.

Pulling the sweater over your head and pulling your hair out cautiously he muttered, in his own world not aware that you could hear him mumbling to himself. Nothing coherent but you were always aware that Mark talked to himself a lot, a sound that used to soothe your mind now making your heart twist in a way that could only be described as immense pain.

When the sweater was on and Mark retracted his hands, you didn’t hesitate to turn around fast on your heel and continue your borderline run home.

Quicker than usual you arrived home. The porch light seemed to be almost mocking you as it shone in the autumn night. ‘Almost there.’ You thought to yourself. You wanted to be inside your warm house so bad. Wanted to be in your bed, despite knowing you would not be able to control your tears once your head hit the pillow. You just wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t with Mark.

Turning around you finally looked at his face. His eyes were red, and hands curled into fists in order to keep his fingers warm. This would usually be the time you reached out with a laugh and hug him, rubbing his arms and back of his neck as you tried to share your body heat. But those times were over.

“Here, take your sweater back.” You said breaking the staring contest you were both participating in. As you went to pull it over your head, he stopped you.

“Keep it, its going to keep getting colder.”

“I have my own sweaters.”

“I know, but I know you loved borrowing this one.”

Love, you thought bitterly.

Sighing, you blinked quickly to get rid of more tears that started forming. Turning to face your house you muttered, “Bye then.”.

Staring at you for a long moment, a deep expression on his face, you knew he was going to say something that would only break your heart further. Something like “One last hug?” or “Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?” so you didn’t wait for him to say anything at all.

You made your way to the door, and while unlocking it, you paused.

Taking a deep breath, you used any and all strength in your body to turn around and see if Mark was still there. You knew he would be. He always waited until you got inside and would wait for a text to see if you got in alright. Tonight, he would wait for you to go inside but there would be no text following.

Making eye contact you mustered up the best smile you could, a small quirk of your lips, as you waved to Mark.

“See you when I see you!” He called, sad smile on his lips.

“See you when I see you,” you repeated lowly, turning back to open your door letting yourself in. You didn’t stop moving until you were inside, door locked, ignoring your mom’s questions about how your night was, wondering why you were back earlier than you told her.

You didn’t stop until you were in your bedroom, shutting the door quietly and climbing into bed.

You didn’t stop crying until there were no tears left and you could see the sun rising in the sky.

You didn’t stop loving Mark even though it caused every piece of your being to ache because he was Mark and no matter what he did you knew he was going to be a presence in your soul no matter how much you hated to admit it.

One-sided, one-sided, one-sided love.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

ACT 2

You’re too busy talking over me to hear what I’m sayin’

You’re too high to realize I see through the smile that you're fakin’

You're so into yourself, everyone else is overrated

And everything’s changing; is your heart worth breakin'?

You opened your eyes, sun peaking through your blinds, causing the throbbing in your head to worsen. The buzzing from your phone also didn’t help and your roommate/ friend seemed to agree.

“Pick up your damn phone before I throw it out the window.” Snapped Raven, pulling the blanket over her head.

Groaning, you stretched your arm across the bed with your eyes closed trying to feel for it under the mess of blankets.

Letting out a sign of relief when you finally grasped it, you swiped, accepting the call with your eyes still closed, hitting the speaker button by accident.

“Y/NNNNNNNN!!!”, sang the most irritating voice you could have possibly heard at 10 am, hungover on a Saturday morning.

“Tell Donghyuck to shut the fuck up, Y/N, I can hear him from over here!” shouted Raven angerly, muffled by the blankets.

“Donghyuck do you have to be so fucking loud? Its early and I have a huge headache,” You said into the phone, cracking an eye open to glance at the caller ID. “, Also why are you calling me from Jeno’s phone?”.

You heard some shuffling and some yelling that sounded faintly like “give me my phone back you fucking-“ and then you heard what you assumed to be a pillow hitting a body and finally Jeno’s voice.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He chirped. You wanted to wince at his tone, but his positive energy always made you smile no matter the mood you were in.

“Hiiiiiiii”, you drawled, resulting in a groan from Raven and laugh from Jeno. “, To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well I wanted to ask- “

“WE!!! Wanted to ask,” yelled Donghyuck.

“Ugh well, I guess we wanted to ask on behalf of Johnny- “

“Y/N you have to come to Johnny’s birthday party! Its gonna so fun and he’s gonna have drinks and- oh OW!” yelled Donghyuck followed by the sound of a pillow whacking a body again.

“Anyways, I wanted to know if you would come to Johnny’s birthday party with us. It’ll be fun and he’s gonna have drinks and food and stuff.” Said Jeno calmly.

“Hey! I literally just said that!”

“Yeah but she doesn’t want to listen to you, you fucking idiot” commented Jeno, hint of humour evident in his tone. You could practically see Hyuck pouting.

Johnny Suh was about five years older than Jeno, Donghyuck and yourself. You had first met him by accident when you ran into Jeno at the store back in seventh grade and you had decided to race shopping carts while your families did groceries. Picking a spot in the store where you thought there was no one you quickly started racing. Looking back to see if Jeno was going to beat you, you smiled triumphantly when you saw that he had stopped quite a few feet behind you. Turning back to the front you wondered why Jeno had stopped when you were faced with a tall figure and a display for toilet paper.

Desperately trying to stop your cart before you crashed into the display, or the tall boy, you managed to skid to a stop but not without taking down a few rows of the display. You had fallen right on your bottom, ache quickly spreading through your body as you heard Jeno run up behind you.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t mean to, we were just- “

“It’s fine. Just clean up. Are you okay?” Was he talking to you? You couldn’t tell through the stinging pain on your palms and ache in the bottom half of your body. His voice was deeper than you expected and his hair way too long, covering his entire forehead, swept to the side reaching his left eye and his outstretched hand looking way too big for his lanky body.

Looking from his hand and back up to his face you couldn’t stop the blush spreading across your face. You knew him. You had heard your older family-friends who lived in the area talking about ‘John Suh’, who went by Johnny to friends, and how he was so nice, so involved, so handsome and a senior in your future high school.

Hearing Jeno scoff made you snap out of your trance, charming smile (as charming as a twelve year old could muster) on your face as you grabbed John Suh’s hand and he pulled you up.

“Thank you so much! I am sorry about the display, Jeno and I will fix it!” I exclaimed quickly, smile never leaving my face.

Fixing his grocery store uniform shirt and flicking his hair off his face, John Suh offered you what you had thought at the time was the most amazing smile in the whole world, and agreed to let you do so as he had to go to the registrar’s.

“Hey, thanks again, um sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” John Suh asked looking directly in your eyes.

“Um- I uh- uh…” I stuttered. Was a senior really asking for my name? The senior in question being John Suh?!

“Its Y/N.” Jeno answered for you, annoyance laced in his tone. You could practically feel him rolling his eyes but that did nothing to ruin your mood.

“Well thanks Y/N! Be careful next time!” said John Suh. Smiling you nodded enthusiastically, not missing the way John Suh walked past Jeno, ruffling his hair, telling him to stay out of trouble.

Waving to him until he was gone, you turned angerly on your heel to face Jeno. He was making retching sounds behind you, acting out throwing up.

“Y/N, you are so lame! ‘Thank you so much, Johnny who I am most clearly in love with! I will clean up anything you ask!’” said Jeno, raising his voice a few octaves in imitation of yours.

“Shut up! First of all, why would you not tell me you know John Suh?! And that you’re close enough to call him Johnny?! Also, second of all, I do not talk like that!”

Making the talking motion with his hand, Jeno just walked by you and started picking up the toilet paper you had forgotten about.

Following his actions, you bent down to pick up a few rolls, not waiting a moment to keep bothering Jeno. “Hellooooooooooooooo. Please tell me how you know John Suh! Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you asked as if it was vital information tethered to your life-line.

“Ugh, Y/N, I don’t know it just never came up. I’ve known him for a few years, our moms are friends. Happy?”, picking up the last roll and stacking it the same way it was before your cart collided with the display.

“Delighted.” You said.

Now in present day, you now called John Suh ‘Johnny’, much to the delight of your twelve-year-old heart. He was now one of your closest friends and confidants, or perhaps was. You had run into Johnny a few times after the grocery store incident but at the end of your seventh-grade year Johnny was to head off to university. Girls in your area, including yourself, were saddened by the loss, Jeno pretending to be disgusted whenever you complained. It wasn’t until the summer you worked at the community centre that you had gotten close to Johnny.

Mark had brought up a bon fire his older friends were throwing, inviting you to come claiming everyone there would love if you came.

After some coaxing you finally agreed to go, not without Raven, Jeno, and Donghyuck (both who were already invited because they knew the host. Jeno wouldn’t tell you who’s party it was) by your side as Mark opened the front door to greet you guys.

“Everyone’s in the back, guys you can leave your stuff in Johnny’s room.” Said Mark to Jeno and Donghyuck.

Nodding and walking off, the two boys started walking away to leave their stuff in Joh-

“Wait, who’s house is this?!” you asked worried, looking nervously at Mark.

“Oh, I thought you already knew. Jeno said you guys knew each other. It’s Johnny’s house.”

You inwardly groaned. You looked at Raven for help, but all you got was a nervous smile. She was as nervous as you. This was a party. A party with college guys, and their college antics, and Mark, and-

“Lets GOOOOOOO!” yelled Donghyuck, bolting down the stairs towards the back door.

“You ready?” Mark asked you and Raven as you made your way to the door, nodding but not missing the insulting comment Raven made about Hyuck. Snickering as you crossed through the door back into the hot night of July, you walked smack into a brick wall.

Well this brick wall was much softer than a brick wall, and also just so happened to not be a brick wall and rather the strong and broad chest of John Suh.

“Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! Mark has been talking about you all summer, I was so happy when he said you were coming!” exclaimed John Suh, arms embracing you like old friends. Awkwardly returning the hug you tried to calm your thoughts; ‘John Suh was hugging me. The John Suh. Wait till I tell- Wait Mark talked about me?’

Moving to greet Raven, you heard him introduce himself “Hi! You must be Y/N’s friend. Hyuck doesn’t stop talking about you. I’m Johnny!” he said to her charming as ever and you already knew the earful of gushing you would hear after the party.

During the party you had met many of Johnny’s university friends; Yuta, a quiet guy with the nicest hair you had ever seen, Taeyong, a shorter, skinner man who had a precious smile and Jaehyun, two years younger than Johnny with one of the most handsome faces you had ever seen and the most delicious build.

The bonfire had been a lot of fun. Mark hardly left your side which you didn’t mind at all, even offering you his sweater when it got chilly. Laughs were exchanged and everyone was so welcoming towards Raven and you, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when it was time to leave.

All of the boys bid you and Raven goodbye, tights hugs filled with well wishes and see you soon’s and beer and expensive cologne. Mark insisted on walking you both out, accompanied by a grumbling Donghyuck who only got up when Jeno elbowed him in the stomach with a pointed look.

Walking slowly behind Raven and Donghyuck, trying to block out the sounds of their bickering, you turned to Mark, speaking in a low tone. “Thanks for inviting us tonight. It was really fun.”

“I’m glad you came… it was really nice to have you here with me- uh I mean with us! It was really nice to have you here with all of us you know all the guys a-“

Laughing, you gently nudged Mark with your shoulder. Feeling brave you replied, “It was really nice to be here with you too, Mark.”

Finally reaching the front door which was left open courtesy of Raven and Donghyuck who had taken their bickering to the front lawn.

“Y/N… umm what I umm really wanted to umm say to you was… umm….” Began Mark, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.

You were about to prompt him to continue when you were both interrupted by a semi-drunk Donghyuck, “Mark did you confess already? I really can’t keep talking to this one, she’s annoying the shit out of me,” jutting out his thumb in Raven’s direction.

With your ears ringing, you watched as Mark turned to you slowly, eyes wide and mouth agape, while Raven scoffed and started a string of curse words directed at Donghyuck.

“Um so yeah… I wanted to tell you that umm… I like you. Yeah, umm you don’t have to say anything right now… damn, I’m sorry, I really didn’t want it to be this way, I- “

You suddenly grabbed his right hand, pulling him down to your height and planting a quick kiss to his cheek.

A blush spread almost instantly at the contact across Mark’s face to the tips of his ears and started opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

Face hot you whispered a quick goodbye to Mark walking briskly out the door to your car. Hearing rustling as you tried to pull out your key, you were about to ask Raven why she was coming to the driver's side, but you were met but a warm hand on your wrist-twisting you around and warm, nervous lips meeting yours.

You took in Mark’s face for a few milliseconds, bangs blowing in the summer night wind right before closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Mark’s lips on yours.

Everything seemed to be happening in your own world, you almost missed Donghyuk yelping and pulling out his phone. Flash going off, Mark and you separated, sheepish smiles on your faces as you avoided eye contact with each other.

Taking the keys from your hand, Raven pushed you away from the driver’s door and plopped herself down behind the wheel. “Bye Mark! It was great seeing you!” she quipped with a smirk, starting the ignition.

Walking to the passenger’s side, Mark and you talked quietly and minimally.

“I’ll text you? See you Monday?”

“Eight am, as always.” you had replied happily.

“Y/N? You still there?” spoke Jeno, bringing you back to the present day.

“Ah, yeah Jeno I’m here, sorry just spaced out. What was the question?” you asked. ‘Ugh why does everything make me think of Mark? Its been months…’ you thought to yourself.

“Hyuck and I wanted to know if you were gonna come to Johnny’s birthday party. It's not formal, just at his house but he would love to have you there. We haven’t seen you in ages.” Jeno said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

It was true you had not seen your friends in a while. The last time you were all together was at the end of August, followed by the… Mark incident in September. After that, you had limited interactions with mutual friends (including Jeno) and skipping out on birthday’s (including Yuta’s; you told him you were swamped with work and would make it up to him, to which he just responded with a thumbs-up emoji) and even the Christmas and New Years parties.

You knew Johnny would definitely be disappointed if you didn’t go…

“Yeah Jeno, of course, I’ll come! Can’t wait!”.

You now stood in front of the floor-length mirror hanging on your shared bathroom door pulling at the hem of your short black dress the following Friday night.

“Raven, are you sure this isn’t too much? Or too short? Jeno said it was casual…” you complained to your friend for the hundredth time that night. And you hadn’t even left yet.

Stilling her hand that was applying highlighter she groaned. “Y/N for the millionth time, you look fine. But you know if you really want to change go ahead. But you look great.”

‘That’s because you picked the dress,’ you groaned inwardly.

Slipping on your shoes, you waited for Raven to finish up. You both debated bringing jackets but opted not to because they would just ruin your outfits and be a hassle to carry.

The cab ride to Johnny’s house was uneventful, just on your phone, watching Snapchats Jeno had already sent you.

Midway through the long thread of videos you witnessed Donghyuck snatching the phone out of Jeno’s hand and running off. He was probably already drunk from the way he was talking but the laugh you were about to let out got stuck in your throat.

“MAAARRRRKKKKK!!!!” you heard from your phone as you watched the video. The camera turned to face Mark who laughed at the camera and wrapped his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder.

Shutting your phone off you took in a deep breath. Of course, you knew Mark would be there. You knew but you refused to acknowledge. Living your life in ignorance since Jeno told you about the party had worked all up to this moment.

“It’ll be okay.” You heard Raven whisper, but you didn’t stop looking out the window until you were parked outside of Johnny’s house.

Paying the driver, you fiddled with your dress as you made your way up to the front door.

“Y/N, you’re completely sure you’re okay with this right? If not we can go home, its not a big- “

“No, its fine. I said I would be here so I’m here right? Besides we’re gonna get wasted!” you said, forcing a smile on your face.

With one last look at you, Raven rang the bell.

The thumping bass of the music could be heard from the end of the driveway, accompanied by loud yelling making you doubt that anyone would hear the bell until you saw the door finally crack open.

“Fin-allyyyy. I was waiting for youuuu.” Slurred Donghyuck as he opened the door for the two of you, Jeno following close behind him. The entire house smelt like alcohol and weed and sweat which suddenly had you feeling a lot more confident.

Hugging Donghyuck and Jeno, you made your way into the house, surprised Donghyuck and Raven had hugged and were actually talking civilly.

The kitchen was filled with faces familiar and not. “Y/N! Raven! You came!” yelled Johnny. He was currently standing over a shorter man who was lying shirtless on the island, pouring tequila into his belly button.

“Of course we came! We couldn’t miss John Suh’s birthday, could we?” you teased.

Groaning but holding a drunken smile on his face, he wrapped one arm around your shoulder and his other around Raven.

Taking in his familiar cologne along with the scent of alcohol calmed your nerves a bit. You had almost forgotten what you were nervous about until you heard his name.

“Mark! Let’s take shots!”, yelled a good-looking boy (everyone here seemed to be attractive) who was sporting a nice shade of pink hair. You had never seen him before but by the way, he had himself practically hanging off of Mark made you think they were close.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You were here for Johnny. To have a good time. You would not let your ex-boyfriend ruin that.

But when you opened your eyes, you found the familiar brown ones staring back at yours. He now had added blond highlights to his brown hair which looked surprisingly good (although you would never admit that out loud). He was wearing what looked like a varsity jacket and you instantly thought about how he was doing on the basketball team. Did they make it playoffs?

Seeing his mouth open shocked you back into reality. Looking ready to say something to you, you panicked. Spinning on your heel you looked back to see the shirtless man waiting impatiently for Johnny to continue the body shots.

“So, when can I start drinking?!” You laughed as you approached Johnny, back turned in Mark’s direction.

“Y/N…” you heard a voice whisper. You knew who it was.

“Ah, Johnny, where was she this whole time? Finally, some fun.” The man lying down said coyly. The smirk on his face would normally make you feel uneasy but was now the most amazing distraction.

“Y/N”, you heard a little louder now.

“So, where’s my drink?!” you practically shouted, trying to get away from any contact with your ex-boyfriend who you just so happened to still be in love with. Great.

“Right here, pretty girl.” Said the smirking, crazily attractive man, still lying on the counter and pointing to his belly button. There was a line off salt between his pectorals leading down to his navel, his defined but slim tan torso looking absolutely sinful.

“Y/N!” the dreaded voice said a bit louder, sounding way to close for you to think rationally.

Panicking and seeing no other way out, you stepped forward to the man on the countertop who was holding his head up with his hands behind his neck, smirk looking almost teasing as it did lazy.

You leaned forward to start at the bottom of the salt line, not forgetting to wet your tongue before sticking it out and licking up the salt all while holding your gaze with the man.

His body was warm and smelt slightly of what could only be a very expensive cologne. His gaze was inviting, combined with his scent making him almost so intoxicating you almost forgot the reason you were doing this.

You paused when your tongue reached the end of the salt line, spot closet to his face. Not saying anything he just jutted his chin out, reminding you to finish your mission.

Moving to his belly button you leaned your head to the side, landing it in the space between his navel and hip bone. Holding eye contact you noticed some of the tequila had spilt across his torso, moving to lick it up before it fell off his body. When you finally reached his navel and started lapping at the alcohol you felt his let out one shudder when you started, the only action in your whole interaction that led you to believe he might not be as cocky as he wanted to come off as.

Finally, when you were done you stood back up and took the lemon he handed you. Sitting up he finally spoke. “Damn, didn’t think you had it in you, pretty girl.”.

His voice was higher than you expected, and held intoxicating tone, almost sounding like a cat talking to its prey. Trying to return the cool attitude, you tried to ignore the heat you were feeling all over your body. “Well, I’m full of surprises,” you said, voice coming out way more confident than you felt, much to your delight.

“Hm, well I hope I can be a witness to more surprises,” eyes never leaving yours, almost hypnotizing. “I’m Ten.”, he said, his hand reaching out to shake yours.

“Y/N.”, you returned, taking his hand.

Eyebrow quirked; he gave you a look that you really could not decipher. Then his signature smirk reappeared. You had almost started to think it was his permanent expression. “Enjoy the party, Miss Y/N.”, he practically purred as he slid off the counter and disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t turn around to see if anyone specific was waiting for your whole spectacle to be over and practically skipped into the living room to find Raven.

Finding Raven was not a problem as she was standing on top of the living room table dancing to the Rihanna song that was blasting through the speakers at the moment.

As she danced, Donghyuck surprisingly close to her, she spotted you and let out a sound of happiness. Pretending to pull you with an invisible rope, you made your way over to her, laughing on your way there.

She was quick to pull you up to the table, but you didn’t plant your feet properly causing you to slip.

Certain you were going to land straight and knock your head, you were quickly caught by a pair of strong arms around your waist. Head falling against your hero’s shoulder you heard their voice, familiar velvet enticing your ears for the first time in months.

“You gotta be more careful, princess.” Yuta whispered in your ear, low tone wrapping its ways around your mind, fogging your thoughts.

“Yuta. Hi.” You said as he helped you down from the table. He looked almost the same as every time you saw him, handsome as ever with striking features and perfect teeth almost as if someone had taken the time to draw him to the utmost perfection. The biggest difference in his appearance was his hair; much longer than you remembered and dyed a bleach blond, only contributing to his good looks, and the lack of red tint and glazed over look in his eyes.

“Didn’t smoke yet?”, you asked really hoping he hadn’t.

“Was just about to head out. Joining me?”, he asked, lips curling up into his signature Cheshire smile. You had always thought he was hiding something when he smiled like that, always feeling like he knew something you didn’t.

Tapping Raven’s leg and signalling that you were going outside with Yuta. After she nodded you followed him to the back door, remembering the first time you ever walked through the doors and met Yuta for the first time.

Not saying anything you watched Yuta take out his blunt and light it, smell not waiting a second to infiltrate your nostrils.

Taking a deep breath in as Yuta took a drag, you basked in the smell, patiently waiting your turn.

Yuta turned to you, placing the blunt between your lips. Moving your hand up to reposition it, you brushed against his. Trying to block the wind with one hand, he brought the lighter up to the blunt keeping it there for a good few seconds.

“Surprised you came”, he said as you inhaled deeply.

Taking your time, you moved the blunt from your lips and inhaled as much as you could before letting the smoke out.

Feeling it immediately in your lungs, you started your coughing fit, handing the blunt back to Yuta, him just lighting it up again, waiting for you to recover.

When you were done, you turned to him expectantly. Taking the blunt from him, you placed it between your lips waiting for him to continue.

“Wasn’t sure to expect you or not,” he said as he lit the ashy end of the blunt for you.

Inhaling again, this time more smoothly, you made a confused face at him. Tapping out the embers that were starting to ruin the taste you replied, “I said I was coming, so of course I came.”

Yuta shrugged, hair falling around his shoulders, either the moonlight or the weed making him look like an angel.

Yuta just looked at you, face not saying much, or maybe it actually said a lot and you just had trouble reading him. You weren’t sure.

“Glad you did.” Was all you heard as you watched Yuta start to sway slightly.

“Was taking a tolerance break,” you explained when he raised his eyebrows at you. Two hits were usually not enough for you, but that was back when you were spending much more time with Yuta and did not have to pay for weed because he would never let you. “, That’s also strong as fuck.” You giggled.

Reaching out to take another hit, Yuta ignored your hands and just placed the blunt between your pouted lips. Opening them lightly to place the blunt properly you looked up to see Yuta much closer than you expected. Eyes that seemed to be staring into your soul, he leaned away to light the blunt and waited until you pulled the almost burnt out blunt away from your lips. Then he was back to his original position, so close that if you shifted a bit forward you would bump noses.

You slowly let out smoke from your mouth as you continued to stare at Yuta, always curious about his next actions, not really ever knowing what to expect.

Which never came because you were interrupted by the one person you were avoiding.

“Johnny wants everyone to come watch him cut his cake.”, said Mark, standing at the door, blatantly staring at you and Yuta, eyeing your proximity very carefully.

Stepping away from you, Yuta sighed dramatically, tone sounding almost teasing. “Ah well, we better go. Don’t want to miss anything important.” You didn’t miss his infamous smile, looking like he could see right through you.

He walked towards Mark who was still standing at the door frame, giving him the same smile he gave you and slipping past him into the warm house.

Despite feeling the cold wind prick at your exposed skin, you couldn’t bring yourself to move as Mark and you just stared at each other.

After what felt like hours but what must have actually been a few seconds, your gazes were broken but Yuta popping his head through the door, not minding Mark’s startled stance.

“Coming, Y/N?” he asked, faux innocence dripping from his voice.

Snapping out of your trance, you twisted your lips into the biggest smile you could muster and nodded and Yuta. Making your way towards the door you inhaled quickly before passing Mark so you didn’t have to smell his cologne when you walked by.

Mark turned to the side as you passed, your arm brushing his chest when you heard something about how you always forgot a jacket. Looking up to see if Mark had said something you saw his mouth in a thin line. Brushing off it as a part of your high, you grasped Yuta’s outstretched hand and allowed him to lead you to the kitchen where Johnny was waiting to cut his cake without looking back.

The kitchen was loud and hot, only accentuating your high. Donghyuck was quick to shove a red solo cup in your hand, demanding you finish it right this instance. Filled more than halfway, it reeked of vodka and about a splash of orange juice. There was so much vodka the juice only tinted the clear drink a very faint orange.

“You would be a horrible bartender,” you laughed at Donghyuck.

“I didn’t make you a drink to enjoy Y/N, I made you a drink to get DRUNK!”, words slurring together as he laughed with you.

Turing to Yuta, you saw him with a smirk and cocked eyebrow, challenging you. “Can you do it, Y/N? Or can you still not hold your drink?”.

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not an amateur, Yuta. You know that.”

Knowing the smirk would not leave his face, you smiled at Donghyuk. “Bottoms up!” you cheered as you downed the drink.

You didn’t stop chugging despite your body instantly warming and the feeling of bile in your throat. Finally reaching the end you slammed the cup down on the counter and let out a gag.

“Hyuck, that somehow tasted worse than usual.” You complained as Yuta kindly handed you a cup of actual juice.

“That’s because its Johnny’s Belvedere Silver! His parents gave it to him for his birthday, he was so drunk he handed me the bottle,” Donghyuck said, snickering in a sinister way.

“It’s not right to take advantage of the birthday boy.” Came a familiar, cat-like voice.

Ten, who was now wearing a white button-up (that was completely see-through), squeezed his way between Yuta and you, leaving you to press up against Donghyuck who did not seem aware of his surroundings at all. Returning Ten’s cunning smile with a genuine one of your own you felt the effects of the alcohol running through your system.

Looking around, a smile crossed your face as you recognized familiar faces. Johnny was currently deemed “unable to participate in festivities at the current moment and will rejoin the party in approximately ten minutes” by Jaehyun who didn’t fail to gather you in his arms when he finally made his way over to you. Two kisses pressed to your smiling cheeks, the feeling of guilt washing over you as you remembered you had not spoken to him since the summertime.

“Coming to my birthday party?”, he had asked you.

Handsome features struck you all over again, foggy feeling only increasing as you downed three shots while conversing with him.

After the third shot, you watched Jaehyun’s back retreat to go get Johnny when a head of yellow blond flashed before your eyes and were soon being pulled into a warm hug between skinny but toned arms.

“Y/N!”, exclaimed Taeyong. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” he hiccuped.

All you could do in response was laugh, hug him back, and tell him how good his hair looked.

“Let’s cut some cake!” yelled Johnny, practically being held up by Jaehyun.

Cheers were let-out around the kitchen as the crowd suddenly surged forward towards the counter. You were separated from Taeyong but spotted Donghyuck and Jeno from where you ended up. Attempting to make your way over to them, you stumbled, accidentally colliding with the very attractive pink-haired boy that was around Mark when you had first arrived.

“Careful now,” he smiled as he turned to you, gripping a shoulder so you didn’t topple over. Even if you were not as drunk as you were, you would have still smiled back just as wide as you were, trying to reciprocate the beautiful smile the boy was giving you.

“Johnny’s cutting his cake now, Jaemin.” Said the one person you were avoiding. Turning your head to the side so fast you could have got whiplash, you started up at Mark. Where had he come from?!

Before anyone could say anything, an off-tune rendition of Happy Birthday started, courtesy of Jaehyun. The pink-haired boy next to you, Jaemin, started singing loudly, smile still wide on his face as he watched Johnny laugh with glee, waving the knife a little too much.

From the corner of your eye you could see Mark, mouth moving with the words and eyes focused on his phone screen, recording Johnny. His lips were upturned slightly into small smile and hair falling into his eyes.

Snapping your eyes back towards the cake cutting in front of you, you chastised yourself for looking. You were supposed to be moving on, not staring at him!

Clapping with happiness after Johnny managed to cut his cake (not without whacking icing all over the counter) you turned around looking for your friends.

“Y/N can we talk?” you heard Mark say. Looking around you, you couldn’t see anyone you felt like sticking too, leaving you in a moment of panic. Not seeing a way out and senses hazy, you nodded at Mark.

Following him through the crowd you ignored his outstretched hand behind him to make sure you were keeping up with him and focused on the back of his neck.

He led you upstairs and into a bedroom you could only presume was Johnny’s; bikini calendar hiding behind the open closet door, high school graduation photo framed on the desk of him, Yuta and Taeyong. There were university photos including Jaehyun, Ten and many others you had seen downstairs. There was even some with you in them, the one standing out the most being the one taken at the first party you attended, the one where you were able to meet some of your favourite people in your life.

It was a group photo, everyone standing far enough from the camera to make sure everyone was seen. You were sitting next to Mark on lawn chairs, hair in two French braids (courtesy of Raven who had given Yuta a braiding tutorial earlier that night) and wearing Mark’s grey zip-up hoodie. You had leaned into Mark, head titled, almost resting on his, broad grins across your faces. On the arms of the chairs, you could see yours and Mark’s hands resting very close to each other.

Not realizing you had been staring for so long, you were only knocked back to reality when Mark picked up the frame, shifting your line of vision.

“This night was really fun,” he started, smiling done at the photo. “, It was one of our favourite times together.” He said much more softly.

Sighing, you suddenly felt the room start spinning and a crushing feeling against your skull. Moving towards the bed you heard him ask, “You good?”.

You absolutely despised the genuine concern oozing from his voice.

Sitting on the bed, you attempted lying down but your dress kept riding up. Regretting the outfit choice for another time that night, you struggled for a few seconds trying to figure out how to lie down without flashing Mark until you realized there was no way. Letting out a huff you looked up to see Mark standing in front of you, varsity jacket draping across your lap before you could even protest.

Not saying anything, Mark sat on the bed next to you and then allowed his body to relax, head hitting the mattress with a soft thud.

Mimicking his actions, you lied down next to him, keeping your vision towards the ceiling.

Eyes meeting the night sky and not a popcorn ceiling, you remembered Johnny telling you that when he was younger, he had been obsessed with astronomy. Begging for a skylight, his father somehow managed to create a skylight type window in Johnny’s room. The light from the sky never seemed to bother Johnny, the bed even positioned specifically to look right out into the sky. Only child perks, you guessed.

You don’t know how long you both laid there. Unmoving, just breathing and staring into the sky. It had been long enough for the throbbing in your head to fade, leaving you with heavy eyes, fluttering closed with fatigue.

“I regret it.”

That snapped you awake.

Keeping your eyes forward to the sky, you hesitated in your response. “Regret what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” he said, turning to look at you. His voice was firm like that day in the café, only this time it held another emotion. Sadness? Desperation? You couldn’t tell.

Unable to stop yourself, you turned your head towards his. The proximity between you two was very limited. You could smell the beer and mint gum in his breath, could see the specks in his eyes.

“Are you okay now?” he asked. You nodded.

“Y/N… I- I’m… I’m sorry.”, he said sadly.

And because you knew Mark you knew what he meant by that. ‘I’m sorry for making you cry.’ ‘I’m sorry for making you hurt.’ ‘I’m sorry I broke your heart.’

Mouth opening to reply, you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of Mark’s watery eyes.

“Y/N… I’m in love with you. I’m still in love with you. If um… you don’t umm… if you don’t feel the same I und- “

He was cut off by your lips meeting his.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed kissing Mark until this moment right here. Pure electricity seemed to instantly course through your veins as your mind was sent into an instant frenzy.

It wasn’t until you felt hot tears falling from your eyes that you pulled away, laughing and gasping for air.

Whipping the tears away, you looked at Mark. He was smiling widely at you, soon joining in on your laughter.

Soon after you both had finished laughing for so long and hard that you were clutching your stomachs, Mark grabbed your hands with his, little giggles still leaving his lips.

“I’m still in love with you too.” You said softly after you had both calmed down.

Smiling broadly, Mark stood up, signalling for you to pass his jacket.

Fixing your dress, you handed him the jacket, him holding is open behind you, waiting for you to slip your arms inside. Basking in the scent familiar scent from the jacket (it just smelt so… Mark) you allowed Mark to pull you up with both hands.

Intertwining fingers, he led you out of the room, back into the hot house and thumping bass.

“Be mine?” he asked nervously, pausing before descending down the stairs.

“I always was.” You stated with a small smile.

Smiling so wide his eyes scrunched, he let out a sound of glee and pulled you close.

Walking down the stairs with his arms around you took you back to all of the times before the… incident and made your heart flutter.

Walking into the kitchen hand in hand, you were pleasantly surprised to see many familiar faces.

“CALLED IT!” yelled Donghyuck, Raven whacking him on the arm for yelling in her ear. “Hand it over.” He said, hand out towards Yuta.

Huffing, Yuta reached into his pocket and handed a very happy Donghyuck a twenty.

“Did you guys seriously bet on us?”, asked Mark, eyes wide.

“Ugh I had really thought today was gonna be a test run. Thought you would actually make up at Jaehyun’s party,” grumbled Yuta.

“Well I’m verrrrry happy you guys are back together,” slurred Johnny, rolling his r’s very harshly. Jaehyun pushed his hand away from a pile of icing that had landed on the counter and smiled at you and Mark.

“Congrats guys. I’m happy you worked it out.” Ever the romantic, Jaehyun smiled fondly at the two of you, Taeyong giving you both a congratulations as well.

Jeno was absolutely ecstatic at the fact that you were back together, complaining to Mark about how apparently you were “mopping around without him”. You didn’t hesitate to punch him in the arm.

“Picture time!” called Johnny, setting up his phone on the stand with the help of Taeyong.

You were surrounded by the familiar faces that had all welcomed you that first bonfire the summer you met Mark.

Leaning your head towards his, imitating the pose from the original picture, you heard Mark whisper as the flash went off.

“I love you.”

And you knew everything would be alright.

LE FIN

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trustsalvatorewriting · 4 years

Text

wasteland, baby! | kol mikaelson - chapter eight

Summary: Kol makes a deal with the Hollow to revive the first woman he ever loved. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned.

Trust’s Note: Please like and reblog! I hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 2,473

_____________

❝ i hate all the hurt that you put me through, and that i blame myself for letting you ❞

HENRY PEARL RAN HIS FINGERS OVER THE GOLD WIRED RING, a soft but victorious smile on his face. The small, handmade ring glimmered in the light he'd hung above his desk. The night before, he'd gone to the nearest voodoo shop to purchase the smallest garnet stone, ignoring the sunrise as he immediately ran back home and into his bed. Admittedly, he'd been afraid that the ring wouldn't turn out the way he wanted; but Aniya had always looked so heartbroken whenever she looked at her own, and there was a part of him that couldn't bear to see that look on her face as often as he did.

There was a part of him that believed she would never love him -- not in the way that he wanted her to -- and he wouldn't blame her, either. She looked like she could conquer the world with a movement of her wrist. She would want more out of the world and he would never be able to give it to her. She was beautiful, and extraordinary, and he was just a boy.

Still, he had to admit he's been happy lately, and he'd wallowed in it selfishly. Henry knew in his heart that it wouldn't last very long, but the was all the more reason to enjoy it in the moment. A few days ago, Aniya told him she found him intriguing, and he told her 'we are only interested by things we don't understand.'

Henry Pearl's eyes were big enough to take it all in: the world, Aniya, and himself. He could float through the sky and never come back down. He wouldn't need to.

He set the complex -- yet beautiful -- garnet ring down on his desk, next to a photograph of he and his mother on her birthday, when Henry was only eight or nine years old. Colla Pearl had been a beautiful woman, with emerald green eyes and medium brown hair; though she hadn't been a healthy one. It was when Henry was thirteen that she became sick, and it was at fifteen that she died. Neither Henry nor his father had dealt with it properly.

Frowning, he glanced up at the calendar, and it occurred to him that Colla's birthday would be in a few days. A sick feeling over came Henry, and it struck him that it would be eight years since her death.

The twenty-one year old boy was pulled out his thoughts when he heard rumbling and music playing from the living room. Henry listened for a moment, hoping -- praying -- the music wasn't what he thought it was. When he heard a crash, he shut off his lamp and quickly made his way out of his closet-sized bedroom and down the hall. He was met with a low ringing noise to his left, where his father left the home phone hanging off the desk.

He hesitated, but picked it up to his ear. A low buzz emitted from the phone, signalling that whoever his father had tried to call had hung up, and he carefully set it back down on the charger. As he proceeded down the hall, he looked to his left and noticed the empty bedroom that belonged to his father. The bedsheets had been jumbled together, and he'd left his night lamp on, as if he'd tried to get some rest but changed his mind all together. Underneath the bed was an empty six-pack of Coors Lite, and Henry grimaced at the sight.

"Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva! Ja, må han leva uti hundrade år!" The Swedish song played throughout the home through a single DVD player. The birthday song mocked the atmosphere, and dread filled Henry's stomach as he realized why his father, William Pearl, had chosen to stay up so late: he'd believed it was Henry's mother's birthday.

Sorrow crawled its way to Henry's throat, wrapping itself around his neck and squeezing as he reached to turn off the music. Henry's vision went glassy as silence filled the apartment once again, and he heard his father cursing him in the kitchen.

"What the fuck? We're having a party, Henry!" William complained, rushing over to the player and restarting the track. "We're gonna have one hell of a party!"

Henry's gaze flitted across the room as he struggled to keep eye contact with William. The fifty-year-old man was nearly nude, wearing only a pair of boxers as he opened a box of party supplies Henry had tried to hide in the attic. William dumped the box upside down on the wooden floors, and Christmas ornaments and streamers were sent flying across the living room.

"Papa," Henry began. His throat went dry as an old ornament flew across the floor: a photo of he and his parents that they'd taken at the mall. "Papa, please stop."

"Let's make it look nice, here at home," William declared, messily organizing the supplies into different piles. He made his way to the small kitchen table and Henry's new shipment of silverware onto the table. "Here, you set the table--"

"Papa--" He tried again, taking a small step toward his father as he climbed onto the couch in an effort to hang a 'happy birthday' sign from the windows. For a moment, he wondered where William had gotten the money to purchase it; then it occurred to him that he left twenty dollars on the kitchen table every night in case of an emergency. Henry's throat tightened as he realized that his father had been impulsively spending the money on alcohol and useless decorations. It wasn't as though either of them celebrated holidays.

"Here is her party, why aren't you happy? Don't you miss her?" William's tone changed as he looked back at Henry, his eyes reddened and crazed as he screamed, "Be happy, for fuck's sake!"

When Henry's expression didn't shift, William reached for one of the plates Henry had bought and tossed it in his direction, screaming "here is her fucking party!"

Henry felt pressure against his shoulder as the plate slammed against the right side of his body and fell to the hard ground. He watched as it shattered, and cringed, his expression shifting to one of helplessness. "Papa, please stop."

"What?" William turned back to his son, a bright smile on his face as he walked forward, grabbing Henry's head with his hands and holding it against his own. His breath wreaked of alcohol and whatever he'd eaten in the past few weeks.

Henry wrapped his arm around his father's shoulder and tried to lead him back down the hall. "Please, Papa, just go to bed. Come here."

"I can't go to bed now!" He exclaimed, casually fighting off his son's grip and placing his dirtied hand on his already bruised cheek.

The boy flinched away from his father's touch. "Let's go to bed, Papa, come on..."

"But I'm arranging a dinner party for your mother," William argued, a dazed smile on his face. Henry would have sworn he was having a psychological break, but he supposed grief did that to people. William had lost his wife; it was only fitting that he acted this way. Still, the longer he acted like this, the easier it would be for William to hurt himself.

Henry tried again, carefully reaching for his arms as he tried to walk him back to his room. He comforted, "You can do that tomorrow, c-can you come to bed now?"

"No, I'm very busy making a birthday dinner for your mom, so the fucking cunt can finally be happy!"

"Papa, calm down, let's go to bed--" The boy bargained, ignoring the icy feeling that grew in his chest. His father would always say cruel things during his episodes, especially about Henry's mother; but they still stung every time he said them.

William shrugged off his son's grasp, walking into the small kitchen where a pot of potatoes and -- was that dirt? -- boiled over the stove. Henry reached for the pot while his father was distracted with pouring a bag full of potatoes into another pot. He held it over the sink and filled it with water in an attempt to wash out what mess William had made while Henry was busy.

"What the fuck are you doing? Stop it!" His father cursed, snatching the pot from Henry's grasp and putting it back on the stove. Smoke rose from the burning potatoes, and the young boy did his best to wave them away from the detector and sprinklers. As his father threw random spices onto the food, he exclaimed, "I told you, we're having a party! Look, we're gonna eat potatoes and shit."

The older man brushed long, gray locks from his face and reached to turn on everything on the stove, despite using only two pots filled to the brim with potatoes. William turned the nozzle and the oven lit up, as Henry took another step forward. "No. No, Papa, go to bed--"

"Don't ruin the food, now!" William sneered. Henry gulped and reached to turn the stove off, but his hands were immediately grabbed by William. His father glared at him for a moment, raising his hand. A stinging sensation covered Henry's left cheek.

"Please, Papa--"

Slap.

"C-Can't you j-j-just--"

Slap.

A sharp pain quickly formed below Henry's eye socket, a jarring feeling in his skull as William's fist connected with his son's cheek. A bruise began forming on Henry's face as he met eyes with his father again, a tired but pleading look in his eyes.

"Why c-c-can't -- why c-can't you go t-to bed now, Papa? Please..." Tears fell from Henry's eyes, his hair disheveled and shoulders hunched forward as he looked into the eyes of his estranged father. He was met with a cold glare and reddened eyes. Henry swallowed, preparing for another hit, the left side of his face reddened and covered with tears.

William nodded after a moment, his jaw clenched as he stared up at his son. "I was just trying to make some food and make things right." He cleared his throat and looked around the kitchen before taking a step toward Henry. "Move the fuck out of my way."

Henry stepped to the side as William made his way back to his bedroom. He let out a low breath and walked toward the stove, turning off all of the nozzles and the oven, and tossing the pot of potatoes and gunk into the garbage. He thought for a moment, then unplugged the microwave and toaster as well. As Henry went to clean up the mess in the living room, he allowed himself to accept his reality.

He would never be able to live in his apartment in the Quarter. It would be his -- overpriced -- art studio, and nothing more.

A tear slipped from his eye as he made his way into the attic, where he had organized Colla's items into different boxes. Henry moved to look through her 'treasured items,' the ones that she'd kept close to her heart when she was alive. Dainty pieces of jewelry tangled together at the bottom of the box, next to an old journal. Henry's brows knitted together in curiosity as he reached for the small brown book.

The pages were stained brown, implying that Colla had gone out of her way to dip them into tea. A chuckle left Henry's lips as he began to read her Swedish writings. After a few moments, he realized the book hadn't been her private journal, but a notebook, where she'd studied different and rare types of witchcraft.

'Tyaag witches participate in several different rituals in order to achieve functional mortality. However, functional mortality is only offered to twins born with earth magic. Once achieved, the twins will be sacrificed on their eighteenth birthday. This will usually consist of a slit throat and a knife through the base of the skull, paralyzing and killing them.

'The base of the skull is the fifth chakra, and the mouth of God. Three days after their death, the witch twins are resurrected. Unfortunately, the memory of their friends and loved ones is wiped completely of their existence. This is due to the fact that the witches are promised a new life; and therefore, their slate is wiped clean.

'Tyaag rituals are notorious for failed resurrections, as if the children do not comply with the fifteen rituals they need to complete before their deaths, the sacrifice will fail, and they will remain in spiritual limbo for the rest of eternity.'

Henry shut the book immediately, remembering the wound on Aniya's neck. He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if his memory were an etch-a-sketch. He glanced outside and noticed the faded sunlight, and realized he would be late for his double-shift at the diner if he didn't leave soon.

He quickly reached for the wired ring and put it into a small white box, complete with a little ribbon. A smile made its way across his face as he quickly changed into his work uniform, all but giddy to see Aniya again.

As he made his way out of the cramped apartment in downtown New Orleans, he caught a glimpse of his father drooling into his white satin pillows. Henry paused, then went into his room, pulling the duvet over the man's chubby body and tucking it over him. He quickly picked up the pack of alcohol on the floor and shut off the light in his bedroom with a final breath of relief. He grabbed his things and locked the door behind him, making his way to his old Jeep.

Henry drove in peaceful silence, admiring the lights and music of the city before stopping at the dumpster behind the diner.

It was there that he tossed his father's pack of alcohol and his mother's box of party supplies. It wasn't as if either of the items would ever do him good. He was exhausted, and no longer sure he would live to his twenty-eighth birthday.

Frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

________

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. i knew that henry needed to have his own chapter eventually, as he is just as complex as aniya and kol, with his own goals and ambitions outside of being the person who works in the restaurant. that being said, henry is based off martin from the swedish movie 'behind the lights' and henry pearl from 'battlecreek.' please comment and tell me what you think! - trust

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scullyy · 4 years

Text

I Know A Place

Word Count: 2.2K Summary: On one fine spring afternoon, Clementine and Louis discuss the logistics of building a house. A/N: This is totally self-indulged just gimme them talking about their house pls ;-; and this is my 30th clouis oneshot?? What??? Doesn’t feel like it, but thank you to those who have been with me since the start. I’m very much in my feels :’) also pls listen to the song it was my inspo for this, it is such a beautiful song okie ily enjoy <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIqngAXHzTI

Louis let the dandelion twist within his fingers, focused on how its seeds flew away with the soft spring breeze. The warmth of the fresh sun relaxed every limb, his eyes fluttering each time the piercing rays danced through the leaves above. There was no need for a jacket today, which he took as a good sign. Overgrown grass pricked his arms as he lay at mercy to nature, he could easily fall into the green earth if given the chance. Swim in spring forever.

"Earth to Louis!" A quick and sudden hand wave in front of his face broke him away from his minds quiet slumber. He instinctively reached up and pulled it down to his chest, resting it above his heart. He smirked at the resulting groan. "Did you hear anything of what I just said?"

"One hundred per cent. You were going on about my dashing good looks."

She broke her hand free and prodded at his chest. "Ha, you wish." Clementine focused back on the task at hand...whatever it was remained a mystery to him. She refused to show Louis until it was done, it seemed to involve a lot of flowers though, as she had a small pile of yellow and purple flowers resting beside her.

"You were talking about having a balcony." He chimed in, letting the sunrays consume him once again.

Surprising her, Clementine looked back at him, letting the peaceful moment truly sink in. His soft face glowed beneath the afternoon sun, the desire to brush a loose dread from his face grew a little stronger, but she decided against it, letting him rest instead. "My friend at school had one and I thought it was the coolest thing ever."

Louis could totally tell she was watching him, smirking a small bit. "They are cool. My parents' bedroom had a balcony and when they weren't home I'd sit out there and people watch."

"You would watch...people?"

His eyes fluttered open, trying to decipher her emotions. Concern, perhaps? "Well, I would watch them and try to guess what their lives were like. So, a balcony it is! What else do you want?" He swiftly changed the subject in hopes it would get rid of the definite look of concern on Clementine's face. Luckily (and surprisingly) her lips softened back into a smile.

"You said you wanted a piano, so where do you want it to be?" She went back to the flowers in front of her, her fingers swirling in between the petals and stems. It had been a long time since she had done any sort of craft, let alone this task specifically.

"Hmmm, perhaps in front of the fireplace."

"Oh, so there's a fireplace now?"

Louis winked and gave her a finger gun with both hands. "Yes, on floor three hundred and twelve. That can be my music room, I'll have sheet music neatly filed away, different songs for different occasions. I'll have the piano leaning against a tall window, so I can look out at the world while I play." Reminiscent of his old house in a way. The family piano was on the second floor, propped against a wide window in the corner.

Clementine let that image soak in; Louis in clean clothes, jazzing up their home as the sun - bright as the one now above them - poured itself over his shiny, mahogany piano. Maybe she would sit beside him or just watch him from the door, either way, what bliss. "We're really doing all nine hundred and fourteen floors?"

"Hey, it was your idea."

She chuckled to herself as she ripped off a loose stem from her creation. "Hell yeah. You still wanna teach me how to play?"

"Damn right I do, you'll soon be able to play better than I can!" Whenever Clem sat beside his piano his heart skipped a few beats, she fit there so perfectly beside him. The bench was made for two, but he couldn't imagine anyone else taking up that space beside him. He didn't want to, it was always her.

"I'll never be able to play as good as you." She muttered, fiddling with the yellow petals of one of the smaller flowers. Her mind drifting away to his musical prowess, he was truly a king behind the keys.

The non-human sputtering noise Louis made almost put her to tears. "Puh-lease! You can shoot better than me, hunt better than me, run faster than me-" He began to count off his fingers on how she was practically perfect in every way.

"Not anymore, dummy." She wiggled her bandaged knee above them, showing off just how redundant his point was.

He waved it off, his head shaking rapidly. "That don't mean nothing! I've seen you zip around on those crutches, but just to make things easier, how does an elevator sound? Wait-no no! A massive staircase that can turn into a slide."

"You and your damn slides." Total dork. Her dork.

"What? They're fun!"

"This house is gonna look ridiculous from the outside." Nine hundred and fourteen floors, slides, windows reaching the roof and purple to top it all off. It seemed like a house that had 'Louis' written all over it.

Louis brushed it off with another dramatic wave of his hand. "Nah it'll be 'right, speaking of the outside, what do we want? A garden? Perhaps a jumping castle? A trampoline!?"

"As long as there's a treehouse I'm fine."

"Hell yeah! A woman of fine taste," Her giggles echoed all around him, he could live in that sound forever if it were possible. "Also, no roads around the house. I lived in a city, it's not fun waking up to morning traffic every day."

"No roads? How the hell are we gonna travel?"

He shrugged casually, seemingly having an answer for every question and rebuttal she threw his way. "We'll walk. Besides, given your luck with cars, it's probably the safest option."

Clementine scoffed, clutching at her chest. "Okay ouch. At least I know how to drive."

"Is that what you call it?"

She prodded at his ribs, bringing out a meek giggle from him. "If you're gonna bully me I'll leave."

"Okay, I'll stop," He held his hands up in defence, his grin growing wildly when she grabbed one and laced her fingers through it. "It'll be quiet. No guns or weapons, no walkers, no violence. We'll be able to forget every bad thing that happened." His thumb graced along her bumpy tattoo, rubbing away at the dried dirt that hid it away. Remembering the story behind it, he winced at the sordid ending

For Clementine, there was a lot she would like to forget. Somehow Louis made it all better, his superpower. Taking the bad and reminding her that they don't spoil the good and there were always more good memories than bad when it came to their intimate time together. "Can it be by the sea?"

"The sea, huh?" He purred, surprised at this revelation.

"Yeah. I always liked the beach. Maybe we'll get lucky and find an old beach shack, stay in there."

"The sea it is! I promise to remember the sunscreen," He was sure there would be a red tinge to his cheeks after today, but the risk of a painful burn was worth it to talk to Clementine. Weather like this was rare, it reminded him of how the world was before. He and Marlon used to play soccer beneath this sun, running back and forth on the grass till one eventually fell to the ground in defeat. "Y'know, I fall more in love with this house every day."

"Me too," They stayed in silence for a while, the only sounds being the raw Earth; chirping birds, a distant cricket. One could forget about what was happening beyond the walls of the school. "Okay, done!"

Louis opened one eye, trying to get a good peek at what was within her hands. "Whatcha got there?"

"Sit up!"

Her wish was his law, Louis pulled himself up beside her, their knees brushing against the other. His smile was totally goofy and lop-sided; a combination of drowsiness, warmth and love.

Within her hands lay two crowns, made with a bunch of yellow and purples flowers. "It's kinda messy but..." She gently placed one atop of his head, covering her shy smile at how it slightly drooped to one side. "Every king needs a crown."

Louis' fingertips pinched one of the vibrant petals, shivering at how soft it was. "You've been making this for me the whole time?"

Clementine threw on her own crown, grinning from ear to ear. "My babysitter taught me how to make them, haven't done it in a while." It balanced neatly on her curls, the petals bouncing in the breeze. A mighty fine matching pair they were, a king and queen of no land but they didn't mind one bit.

Louis shimmied in closer and pecked the tip of her nose. "I love them." He was truly the grandest king in all the land, with the most beautiful and charming queen with him.

Clem wasn't sure if the burning of her cheeks was from the sun or from her cheeky boyfriend. Most likely a combination. "I dunno about you but if I spend any longer out here I'll fry."

"Me too, wanna go find AJ?" He stretched his arms up to the sky, glancing around the courtyard. The only other kids he could see was Willy on the watchtower and Ruby and Violet by the greenhouse.

Clementine stretched her own leg, trying her best to conceal the oncoming cramp. A dull ache she was slowly getting used to as the days went by. "Yeah, I've left him alone for too long."

Her crutches were leaning against the picnic table, waiting diligently as ever. He passed them over to her, waiting till she was comfortable before taking off, his arms at the ready to grab her, just in case. "Maybe we can have a throne room."

It took Clementine a second to register what he had said. "Hold up, a throne room? Really?"

"Of course! We shall live like royalty, only the finest for us." He opened the hallway door for her, letting her go in first.

"Says the guy who grew up on expensive taste." She didn't even try to hide the sarcastic tone, having an ex-rich boyfriend provided ample jokes for her and by god, she was gonna take up the chance to use them.

"Okay, perhaps, but you have not experienced fine dinging until you have tried a Pâté-" He immediately stopped talking when he saw Clem's face drop. Following her stare, his face too fell at the sight before them.

Clem disturbed the silence by letting out an obvious and fake cough. "AJ, what are you doing?"

The tot dropped a paintbrush from his grasp, specks of purple paint splattering on the wooden floor. "Oh...hi Clem, hey Louis." He had the same innocent glare in his eyes that Louis gets whenever he fucked up, which was a face he had on the daily. Like a puppy caught eating away at a shoe.

Who? Me?

"Where did you find all of this paint?" Louis peered into the dirty tin bucket, his eyes bombarded with more purple paint than he had ever seen before. It was a bright lavender shade, reminding him of the plants in his mothers' garden.

AJ slowly rose to his feet, hands held tightly behind his back and eyes glued to the floor. Guilty. "It was in Tenns' old room. Please don't be mad."

Clem couldn't take her eyes off the door, who could? It was bright purple! She stuttered for a moment, trying to process what could possibly be going through AJ's mind. "I don't even know what you're doing." Is this the reaction her parents had when they found her drawing on her bedroom walls? Just pure confusion and a dumbfounded wonderment??

AJ looked up at her, his big brown eyes pleading his innocence. "Well, you and Louis always go on about your purple house but I don't have enough paint for the whole school, so I thought I'd paint your door."

The couple stood solemnly with both their jaws wide open, their eyes locked onto the wet paint, making their once simple brown door a pastel purple. They both had to admit, it was a lovely colour. Briefly sharing a knowing glance, Louis kneeled down to AJ first, shocking the young boy with his sudden and wide smile. "How could we ever be mad? This is awesome, kiddo."

Clem admired the smooth stroke of his handiwork, he had been practising his colouring a lot more than usual recently. He would be a natural talent in no time. "This is so nice of you, goofball," She motioned for him to come closer, giggling when he barreled his small body into hers. "Thank you, for giving us our purple home."

#twdg #the walking dead game #the walking dead game season four #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg clouis #twdg louisentine #twdg clem x louis #clouis #louisentine #clem x louis #telltales the walking dead #twdgs4 #twdg season 4 #twdg season finale #twdg fanfic #twdg fanfiction #scullyy #fanfiction

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you-did-well-moon · 4 years

Text

The Secret in his smile

@daybreakx writing challenge #1

Type: angst, horror (kind of) Fairy tail au! dystopian au!

Pairing: Mentioned Junmyeon x reader

Word count:1552

Summary: The woods are a scary place, especially when there’s rumors that surround them. Get lost, and you may not be able to find a way out.

A/n: It's really not that hard to figure out which fairy tale I used I promise lol. I’m sorry if this seems rushed in any way at all and I hope you enjoy it. I’ve been wanting to write for exo for a long time and this was my chance to, so I took it. I found that Junmyeon fit this concept well especially because of the musical he was a part of “The man who laughs”.

TW: War, unrealistic depiction of Junmyeon

You sniffled trying to stop the tears blurring your vision from falling down your face. A hand gently came on your shoulder brushing the mangled tufts of hair away from your neck. A rough but comforting hand rubbed the side of your neck. You looked at your brother, lips trembling and panic making your eyes shake as you took hurried and ragged intakes of air.

“What are we going to do Hansel? She just left us here to die. What if the rumors are true?” your hunched figure made your brother hum the song your father would use to lull you to sleep as children. It was a nice song. It reminded you of better times, times when war still hadn’t ravaged your lives. Hansel put a shaking hand on your head softly caressing it, he was scared, but he was trying to be strong for you.

“We’ll figure something out like we always do. Rumors are rumors, i’m sure there is no witch in these woods.” He had paused trying to find the right words to ease your mind, but he wouldn’t meet your watery orbs as if also trying to convince himself.

You took a shaky breath looking around you, but wherever you looked it was the same. Trees. They surrounded you leaving no idea of where you had come from, and making sure you’d have no idea where you chose to go. The shadows clung to the tree trunks smiling eerily at you with malice. The leaves from atop the canopy blocked the sun’s light from reaching the poor siblings sitting on the forest floor encasing them in never ending darkness, they bristled seemingly feeling the unease in the forest.

You had lost track of how long you had been sitting there, and the cold the night usually brought with it was starting to seep into the forest floor. You shook your head still in disbelief, sinking your fingers into the damp dirt underneath you trying to ground yourself to reality.

“I still can’t believe she just left us here.” you looked up to Hansel while he looked around trying to see if anything in particular stuck out to him. He looked at you with sad unseasy eyes shrugging his shoulders and sighing tiredly. “I guess war brings out the ugly side in everyone”

You scoffed curling your lip in distaste. “Stepmother was ugly far before the war. Inside and out. We should have spent less time worrying about the witch in these cursed woods and more time worrying about the witch living under our own roof” you had always held great disliking for the woman your father had chosen after the death of your mother.

Your father. Your heart sank at the thought of him. You worried you would never get to see him. The wrinkles near the corners of his eyes and his loud thundering laughter. After he got drafted for the war your family’s economic situation went down a steep slope straight into poverty. With no one to provide for your family, and no jobs to be taken, you had lived off of scraps and leftovers you found in trash cans from more well off families.

The war had taken everything from you. Your father, your money, and your fiance, Junmyeon, who had also been drafted. A sick feeling grew in your stomach as you thought of the last time you saw him. With a smile on his face, but his jaw clenching trying to keep the tears at bay not knowing if you’d ever see each other again

With multiple kisses pressed against your temple and various parts of your face, he said goodbye with one last kiss to your lips, mouth despairingly moving against yours as his hands ran all over your sides and back trying to remember the warmth and feel of your body. He left without looking back knowing if he did, he’d run straight back into your arms. You were robbed of the life you and Junmyeon promised one another that day, and you had not heard from him in a year.

Bitterness filled you to the brim when you looked down at the silver surrounding your ring finger on your left hand. Sitting there on the floor of the forest, you longed for the warm arms of your lover. Any kind of shock you had, had now changed into a darker emotion. Hate for the world and it’s cruel ways rooted deep in your chest. You were now left on this forest floor after your own stepmother had told you and your sibling you were going to collect wood only to leave you taking the only compass you had with her. You had once had a whole life ahead of you, and now you had been left to rot in these dark woods. Your chest felt empty with dread.

“We should get going, we don’t want to stay here when the wolves come to play” your brother's gentle hands ushered you to stand up. You looked up to him chest gaze darting around and a grimace tugging at your lips. “I’m more scared of the witch than the wolves, Hansel” your broken voice made him whip around to face you with a sharp glance thrown at you.

“For the last time, there is no witch here. She’s just a ghost story made to scare the kids. Now follow along before night catches up to us” you felt bad for your brother because you saw his own knees shaking knowing he was scared as well just too prideful to show it.

As you walked, you cut a X into the trees with the dagger your father had gifted which you always kept in the pocket of your torn trousers. You didn’t notice the marks disappearing sinking into the wood of the cursed trees too busy trying not to trip on any of the broken branches littering the ground.

After what felt like hours of walking you could feel the cold creeping into the forest knowing the sun must be sinking, and as the sun sunk so did your heart. Hopelessness was beginning to creep in on you. Your stomach was painfully empty aching in your torso, and your feet began to drag along the floor stumbling around bushes and branches. Exhaustion made your limbs feel heavier than normal.

You were just about to call out to your brother who was a few steps ahead of you when you heard him shout at you. “I see light up ahead hurry!” you began walking at a quicker stride stopping alongside him at the edge of a clearing where in the middle was a quaint little house.

You looked at each other uncertainly before he clasped your hand with his tugging you along to the house. Upon getting closer to the house you noticed something odd about the outer exterior of the building. Reaching up to the roof you broke a piece of it off bringing it up to your nose and sniffing at it. Chocolate.

You felt yourself get doused in an overwhelming wave of panic as you turned around to face your brother only to find him putting a piece of the windowsill into his mouth. You started running to him, feet aching tiredly with every step but you knew it was too late as you saw him swallow.

“Hansel no, the witch!!” your crazed screech echoed around the clearing and your throat started to burn while trying to keep the sobs from escaping your chest at seeing your sibling double over clutching at his neck.

You knelt next to him, hands fluttering around his body not knowing what to do. You heard the door to the house open, but fear stopped you from looking up.

“Well well what do we have here. Naughty people trying to eat at my home!” you froze as the voice reached your ears sounding familiar. Instead of the old high pitched female voice you expected, you were met with a smooth and deep male voice that had once whispered words of adoration against your skin.

You looked up not being able to breathe, and the figure standing in front of the open door also halted any movement, taunting smile completely wiped off his face. The face you had only ever seen smile lovingly at you. Your eyes widened and your voice completely left you, a broken sound escaping your chapped lips as they fell open in absolute shock. Fear running it’s icy course through your body and paralyzing you.

You studied his figure not being able to face the reality staring straight back at you. His body was swarmed in black robes, but you could still see the muscles straining against the fabric. His hair was longer and mangled reaching his shoulders. His face. There was a large scar that ran from both corners of his mouth up to his cheekbones making him seem like he was smiling even when his lips were pressed tightly together which they now were.

You looked back at his eyes. Eyes you had once stared into seeing your whole future held in the brightly lit stars dotting the sweet brown of them. Now just broken and lifeless eyes. Eyes that had seen war, and come out changed because of it. Your warbled voice made your ears ring as you called out to someone you had once known like the back of your hand swallowing against the bile traveling up your throat.

“Myeon?”

Junmyeon stared at your fragile body laid on the bed he had never slept on lips twitching, clutching your dagger with only one thought repeating in his head.

“That’s not the way things were supposed to turn out”

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imacrowcawcaw · 4 years

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Eyes of Juniper Ch. 1 (A Metallica Fic)

Ao3 Link

Author (as known on Various sites): Lady Lover- Rockfic, Luluthechoosingcrow - AO3, theladylovingcrow - Deviantart and Wattpad, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @insannywestan - Sanny shipping Tumblr Pairing: Lars Ulrich/James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett/Cliff Burton, Lars/Female Character (briefly), Lars/Male Character (kinda, more just awkward one sided flirting then Lars gets rescued by his knight in a ratty Motorhead shirt) Fandom: Metallica Tags/warnings: Sex-swap AU, early 80s era 'tallica, smut, gay smut, also het smut since the whole gender switch thing, drinking and alcohol, lots of cussing and profanity, should warn that Lars goes into detail about taking a piss cuz ya know it's new to him, Idk I'll add tags per chapter as I think of shit

Notes:

1. Okay, so I spent like months thinking about whether to do this or not. On the one hand, yes this has so much potential to be fun (and I've seen some other sex swap stories i like). On the other hand, a lot of the whole sex/Gender swap thing is really stereotypical gender shit and goes against what I personally believe. But, creative juices won out and I'll try to keep true to character as much as possible while also making this funny and not too misogynistic (if that's possible).

2. This is a work in progress! I started it a year and a half ago, and now a friend is helping me continue

3. This story is inspired by the song 'Jewel of the Summertime' by Audioslave (on their album Revelations) I love this song and it is awesome you should totally go listen to it.

4. The witch-lady is inspired by Aine, Celtic goddess of love, summer, wealth, and sovereignty. I literally just googled 'goddess of love' then scrolled through a list to find someone other than Aphrodite (don't get me wrong I love Greek mythology but it just wasn't right for this fic) and came across this girl. I only did a quick Wikipedia read, I'm not planning on going too heavy into her myth and more just using her for the plot but.... If anybody is more well versed in Celtic mythology and I seem to get something wrong, please feel free to comment and I'll try my best to make it accurate!

5. Woo damn that was a lot of stuff, I don't blame you if you didn't bother reading it. Now, on with the show!

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1984 (Lars' POV)

The first thing I felt when I woke up was this odd sense of.... well, just something being fuckin' off. Like I was missing something, but also like I had gained something? I felt like a brand-new person, although in my gut I was still me.... Man, I must have had WAY too much Jager last night, it's fucking with my head.

I slowly peeled the itchy fleece blanket off of my body and rolled onto the floor, which was about a foot from the bare mattress. We really needed to invest in some sheets, especially if we wanted to keep bringing chicks back to the house. Apparently, most girls are not at all impressed by stained, lumpy mattresses with almost no bedding on them.

Speaking of girls and mattresses, didn't I bring one home last night? I raised my head slightly from its position from the threadbare carpet and looked at the bed, trying to see if Anna (Was that her name?) was still there. Yep, there was a naked hippy still passed out in my bed, sweet!

I groaned quietly as I stood and shuffled my way out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. It was then I noticed that I didn't really have the usual alcohol-and-early-morning-and-piss induced erection, but my bladder was still straining. Huh, weird.

Whatever. I just wanted to pee, get rid of that feeling in my gut, and get that dead possum taste out of my mouth. Pushing open the door and wincing as the creaky hinges screeched through my headache, I pulled down my boxers and reached for my dick.... What the fuck?

WHAT THE FUCK?

WHERE WAS MY MOTHERFUCKIN DICK?!

Trying not to panic, I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment so I wouldn't have to see right away. But, of course, that kind of defeated the purpose of looking down, so I opened them again. No dick. The hell was going on?

Taking a deep, calming breath, I tried to think through this rationally. My dick, for whatever reason, was not where it was supposed to be. But, my bladder was still full and begging to be released, so obviously my system or whatever was still working. That need to pee was turning into a burning pain, so I tried to come up with a solution. If I don't have a cock, then I can piss through....what, exactly? Is there anything down there at all? What is even going on!?

Pulling in another deep breath through my nose, I let it hiss out between clenched teeth as I slowly, so slowly, touched my fingers to my abdomen and moved them downwards, dreading what I would find. Annnnnd....... Yep, there it was.

Velvety soft lips, slick, pungent juices; anatomy I knew so well but never, EVER expected to feel on myself. My crisis would have to wait a minute, though, 'cause my bladder was going to explode and no dick be damned I needed to do something about it.

Gingerly sitting my ass down on the toilet (god, so weird sitting down just to piss) I tried to slowly let it out. The feeling was...well there was certainly relief of the pressure, but it also felt strange in a way I couldn't really describe. I could possibly get used to it, not that I'm planning on staying like this or anything.

Cringing as I wiped, I slowly pulled the boxers back up to my hips that I just now noticed were a little wider than usual. And my hands, were they smaller? Softer? My chest too....HOLY SHIT I HAVE BOOBS! That, I might be able to get used to.

I turned to the mirror, and was quite shocked at what I saw. There was a girl standing there, with large, doe-like green eyes staring back at me from underneath brown bangs. She had a nice tan on her upper body, although her breasts were still pale where she clutched at them, small rosy nipples poking through her fingers. A pair of black cotton boxers stretched tight around the small curve of her hips, but hung loose around her milky thighs that almost touched. And this...this chick was me. ME.

Shaking my head, I splashed some water onto my face and rubbed my eyes, hoping it was just a fucked up dream. No such luck.

I was considering hiding in the bathroom forever, because no way in hell could I let the guys see me like this, let alone figure out how to explain, when I heard a scream. It sounded a lot like Kirk's voice, so I pushed my problems to the back of my head and ran into the hallway, stopping dead in my tracks at what I saw.

Anna, or whatever her name was, stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in flowing black robes with green Celtic designs all over them. She had jewels and charms hanging from her waist, wrists, neck, and ears, each tinkling as she tossed some sort of... Powder onto a very shocked looking Kirk. Or at least, I was pretty sure it was Kirk. He (she?) seemed to be in the same boat as me as far as bodies were concerned at the moment.

With a final dusting of powder, witchy-chick turned to me and smirked. "I hope you learn your lesson, I'll be back in a week. And as for you...." She turned to Kirk, "Well, you're just too damn cute! I couldn't resist seeing what a pretty girl you'd make!"

"This is your fault? You bitch! " I yelled. "Why the hell did you do this to us? Who are you? Change us back, then get the fuck out! I don't wanna be a damn girl, and neither does Kirk!" God this was fucking insane, that chick was crazy!

She hissed at me, eyes flashing in a way that could not be human. "Now you listen, GIRL. You'll stay like this for as long as I deem fit. You need to learn some respect for women, and being one is the best way to do that. I suppose you don't remember what you did last night?" She asked, looking bored and ready lo go fuck up someone else's life.

I thought hard, then it came creeping back to me. The bar, the Jager, the flirting with a group of girls, copping a feel and getting slapped, then her changing her mind and coming home with me, talking dirty in her ear, then unworldly sex, her whispering what sounded like a spell in my ear as I came... Holy shit.

"Is this about me grabbing your ass? I'm sorry! Please don't do this!" I begged, finally starting to let the situation sink in and desperation set. This could not be happening.

"Hmph," she snorted, "Begging isn't going to get you anywhere. I've seen humans beg for much less, and they still didn't get it. No, you'll love your life as a woman for a week, both of you, and hopefully you'll come to realize the struggles and terror that comes with it. If you've learned your lessons and are truly sorry, then you will be turned back. If not... Well you'll just have to stay like this until you do."

And just like that, she turned with a flourish and disappeared into thin air. My morning could not get any crazier, I was sure if it. But, because I wasn't actually sure and was suddenly doubting all logical occurrences in the world, I knocked on the wooden railing. That done, I turned towards Kirk.

He (seriously, do I call us he's or she's now? This is so fucked up) was shaking like a leaf, looking like he'd fall over any moment. I went over to grab him, calm him down, something.

"Shh shh, it's all right, Kirk," I muttered in his ear, awkwardly patting his back. I never thought I'd need to, but it really fucking sucks I can't comfort him any better than this. It was like this sour feeling in my chest that nestled in right next to my heart, whispering how awful I was at this and how he's probably mad at me for getting him into this situation.

Before I could ask him if he wanted to punt me out of a window, though, I heard some shuffling and talking coming from downstairs. James and Cliff were headed up here. As much as I wanted to hide for a week until my fuckin' "lesson" was up, I couldn't exactly drag Kirk into the hall closet in his current state, so I stood my ground.

"Hey, ladies, we do appreciate the service you've done our ugly ass friends, but could you keep the cat fight down until you've left the house?"

Ah, James, the man still didn't know how to talk to women after all this time. He was either too shy to form a sentence, or he put on this macho bravado that turned him into a drink asshole. Either way, this lady was not pleased.

By now I guess the guys had reached the landing Kirk and I were at and saw me hugging him, because Cliff chimed in, "Aww, they've made up! Good! Now, can I ask what exactly you two were telling about so loudly that it woke me and my boy James up? Did Lars do something?"

My back straightened at that, and I turned my head to him indignantly. "I did fucking not!" I retorted, even though apparently this whole situation was my fault. No need for them to know that, though.

"Holy shit, Lars!?!" James screamed.

I sighed. "Hi, Jamie."

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Chapter 2

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essays-for-breakfast · 4 years

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One Fall

Melizabeth Week Day One: Light/Darkness

He was a creature of darkness. His whole life had been determined by shadows, the dark depths of his home world, the cruel hand of his father, the seeds of death and destruction he had sown. Meliodas had learned to hold a sword and take another creature’s life from the moment he had been able to walk. And for the longest time he had refused to do as little as think about complaining. Changing his ways was an idea so farfetched it could make him laugh; his path was already carved out. Fight on behalf of the Demon King, kill on behalf of the Demon King, wage war on behalf of the Demon King.

A perfect servant of his father.

Meliodas only ascended from the darkness of his home world to bring destruction to those pitiful beings housing in the land of Britannia. He slayed dragons and humans and Goddesses alike, and led the elite of his father, the Ten Commandments, to kill many more. The blood on his hands could never be washed away, it stained his fingers when he dressed in the morning, when he trained with Zeldris in the afternoon, when he placed his head on his pillow for the night.

He was a creature of darkness.

And for a while he had been content with this life.

She was a being of light. Word spread to even the deepest shadows and the most steadfast Demons of the daughter of the Supreme Deity, who was said to be able to purge dragon and Vampire and Demon alike, until they would sing pretty songs of peace and forgiveness. But if she did fight an opponent with full force, she showed her true strength, and beware the poor creature that crossed her path. Bloodstained Ellie – that was how she was known in the Demon Realm.

When Zeldris had first mentioned her and the fear coursing through the ranks of the military, Meliodas had laughed a humorless laugh. What did a single Goddess have to show against the oppressive power of the Demon King? Those who had been lulled by her words had surely never tasted the wrath of the Demon King. Meliodas had. More than once. He remembered what it felt like to become a weak-willed puppet on the strings of his father, he remembered the taste of blood in his mouth when he had been pushed into the dirt after dropping his sword in his first lesson of armed combat.

Betraying the Demon King was the last thing Meliodas would dare. Or so he had thought.

She was a being of light. Since they fought on opposite sides of the great war human historians would later dub the Holy War, it had been only a matter of time until Meliodas crossed path with the woman who filled the hearts of his followers with dread or the illusion of peace – both equally poisonous.

The battle was fought, the skirmish won, and the small human town smoldered under the fires of hell. With nothing but numbness, Meliodas stared at the iron monument depicting a Goddess at the town center, the single reason for why the humans had been sentenced to death. The head of the statue, once proud and a symbol of worship, lay severed in the dust. If only the humans had chosen another icon to guard their town. Their undoing might have been delayed a few weeks. A year if the Demon King had been generous. But when had he ever been?

Meliodas had ordered Galand and Melascula to return to the Demon Realm and report the successful completion of their mission. And for himself, there was only one task to fulfill before he could crawl back into the darkness with more blood on his hands.

I do not tolerate survivors.

Those had been the last words Meliodas had been given by his father when he had been standing at the door of the throne room, ready to take his leave and hopeful to be spared this set of orders. An acerbic taste had climbed his throat then and filled his mouth now as he walked through the burning ruins in search for human survivors. It was a dirty business, but Meliodas always chose to carry out this task himself. He was quick when he snuffed out the life energies of those labelled his enemy. Some of the other Commandments were not.

A whimpering carried to his ears through the crackling of fire, and Meliodas cursed under his breath. The broadsword weighed heavier the closer he came to the source of the sound.

They were so easy to find. Shell-shocked or crying, the four humans cowered in the dirt beneath the remains of a roof, their pale faces devoid of hope as they gazed up to him. But before Meliodas could raise his sword, he was knocked into the dust by blinding light.

He jumped to his feet with a backflip and shook off the pesky agony of the Goddess magic. Compared to the hits of his father, this attack had been a gentle breeze. With a growl, Meliodas met the eyes of his next adversary.

Without having crossed paths with her, he knew in an instant who he was faced with, and the grip around the hilt of his sword tightened. Her eyes shone with determination and the symbol of the Goddess Clan amidst a pool of gold, and the last remains of a magic spell still danced around her fingertips. There was only one Goddess apart from the Archangels who could catch him off guard as she had.

But he wasn’t given a chance to inspect her further as the next orb of light swooshed past his ear, missing it by an inch. Meliodas dropped his defensive pose, angry with himself for allowing his adversary to strike twice unpunished, and charged at Bloodstained Ellie. Better now before she would be able to twist his head with those hopes and lies he had buried when he had been old enough to hold a sword. Darkness spread from his fingertips to envelop his sword, but instead of flesh, Meliodas struck light.

The accursed Goddess deflected his attack with a magic barrier and shifted out of the way to strike with her other hand. Meliodas squinted to avoid the brightness and manifested his wings. He kicked from the ground to gain the upper hand, but she was already above him, white-feathered wings beating against the smoke screens.

They pivoted into the sky in a strange, violent dance where one misstep equaled death. Meliodas dealt out blow for blow, but his adversary was always one step ahead of him, evaded his hits and retaliated with an attack twice as forceful. White and black, light and darkness crashed between them, and the longer she held her own – no, she was already prevailing – the more respect Meliodas begrudgingly held for this woman.

No one had even dared to test him like this.

His thoughts were captivated by the curves of her body for only a second, but that was enough. The brightness of Purge hit him square in the chest, burned the outer layers of his skin, stole the link to his magic powers, sent him tumbling to the ground miles below. A fall from this height meant death, no matter the resilience of his Demon body.

Meliodas couldn’t reach for the darkness to keep himself suspended in the air.

He kept falling.

The air rushed past him, pressed the life out of his lungs. And like an idiotic child who had seen the embodiment of beauty for the first time, he kept thinking about these perfect curves as he plummeted into his undoing.

The darkness didn’t answer his calls. But the light did.

Just as Meliodas thought he should feel the ground break his spine in a matter of seconds, a hand grabbed his and slowed his fall with a jolt that nearly dislocated his shoulder. Stupid and unable to comprehend, Meliodas stared at the soft features, hardened from exertion not spite, of the woman who tried to kill him a moment ago. Her slim fingers around his let something flow through his flesh and bones and muscles Meliodas failed to identify. A strange feeling, but pleasant in a way. Warm.

The way sunlight felt on his skin.

Meliodas hit the ash-covered ground unhurt but too stunned to mind his bruised ego or even scramble to his feet. His adversary, his savior, stood over him with endless grace, her wings flipping in the breeze that caught her long silver strands.

“Why?” Meliodas coughed up.

The question seemed to confuse her. “Didn’t you want to live? Or are Demons never taught what gratitude means?”

A verbal fighter on top. Meliodas grinned without real humor. “Who knows how many of your allies you condemned to death by saving me. All these people who will die by my hands in the next fight. And the next. All because you are to weak-willed to get your hands dirty.”

She ignored his insult. “You’re right. If you die, maybe the war will be over sooner, and more lives will be spared. But the price would be an unnecessary murder, another life added to the list of casualties. I think I can lower the price further than that.”

This had to be the naivest thing Meliodas had ever heard. Was this girl unable to realize that nothing in life came for free? That there were always necessary sacrifices? Those who refused to pay the price would only end up dead or in chains – but she was either too childish or too stubborn to understand. He should strike her down here and now. His father would have ordered him to lay his fingers around her slender neck and squeeze until he had proven her idealistic worldview wrong. Then why did his hands relax at his side when he stood up to meet her at eyelevel?

She was still taller, and her two large sets of wings only added to a stature that commanded respect. “Why do you fight, Meliodas?” she asked.

So she did know who he was, knew how many of her kind he had sent into the afterlife. Her question didn’t make sense in any case. Fighting was his life, he had been raised with a weapon in his hand, and part of him enjoyed the challenge of a good battle, the thrill of victory. Meliodas had been told to fight, so that was what he did – there was nothing else to it.

“Because fighting is the only thing I know,” he said. He hadn’t meant to be this honest, a snarky insult would have been more appropriate. Better fit for the leader of the Ten Commandments. “And because someone else will take my place if I don’t fight. If I play my role, I at least have some control over how the battle is fought.”

The smile she gave him was rich of sickly-sweet compassion – he couldn’t get enough of this poison. “Not the response many would expect from the son of the Demon Lord. I’m glad,” Bloodstained Ellie said. What exactly made her glad, she left unanswered. “You should know that these villagers stand under my protection. Their survival is what I fight for.”

“Don’t worry,” Meliodas said and picked his sword from the ground. The metal had never felt this cold in his hands, when every other fiber of his body burst with the strange sensation of warmth. “I for my part can’t see any villagers around. They must have fled before I got here.”

The villagers crawling out of their hiding spot in the relative calm after the fight proved his words wrong, but Bloodstained Ellie didn’t take notice of them. She studied Meliodas’ face with a fascination he found both endearing and uncomfortable.

“I bet we’ll meet again, Bloodstained Ellie,” Meliodas said and turned to take his leave while his thoughts still functioned somewhat properly.

“Elizabeth.”

“What?”

“My name is Elizabeth,” she said, and the gleam he was met with when he looked over his shoulder filled him with more adoration than anything he had seen in this world. The sun peeking through the clouds had no chance to rival that expression.

“Elizabeth it is then. I hope I get to meet you under more pleasant circumstances the next time around.”

The muscles around Meliodas’ spine tickled as the link to his Demon powers reestablished itself, and he took off into the sky, Elizabeth’s face still on his mind.

She was a being of light.

He was a creature of darkness.

All the laws of nature branded them as mortal enemies, the world had drawn a line in the sand and placed them at different sides of the great war. Meliodas was supposed to despise every word coming out of her mouth, every action she took to defy the Demon King, every inch of her smooth skin.

But his father be damned, he was already falling for her.

#melizabethweek #nnt fanfiction #seven deadly sins #nanatsu #meliodas #elizabeth #melizabeth #my writing #I enjoyed writing this a lot #I wanted to stay under 2k words #i failed #great prompt

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