#hate adulting i hate it i hate it i want to explode and hide forever and cry a lot. and my bank account isn’t even my own rn and i don’t und

[ramblingvents]

I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. Is it all my fault? How much of the way I see the world is based on how I was raised and how much of it choices? I know it's a bit of both. Should I forgive you? I want to.

You won't forgive your father but you want me to break the cycle. I genuinely think you did the best you could - you just didn't feel like you could be fixed and so you never tried and all of those feelings flowed out onto those around you. Because that's the thing about bottling stuff up, it never lasts forever. It leaks through the cracks, it explodes and then you desperately put it back because what can you do? How do you deal with that much feeling? My therapist once told me that unprocessed emotions are like food that's never been sent to where it's supposed to go and it rots. It's harder to deal with, but you can still process them and let them go. What do you do when you live in an abandoned factory? When it's so filled with rot your best option is to hide it, to pretend the factory never existed in the first place.

I love you. When I was little you played Disney princess games with me, even though it went against your usual games. When I was little, you yelled at me for doing my math homework wrong. You comforted me with your collection of movies when I was sick. You got mad and refused to talk to my mom and I for the rest of the day because of a single comment she apologized for. You made everyone laugh at your best friends funeral and comforted his kids. You told me I'd be dead to you if I choose to have Thanksgiving dinner with my boyfriend's family. You make a point of supporting the lesbian couple at work. You told me I wasn't bisexual and that my boyfriend wouldn't love me if I was.

And my mom tells me to text you, and I leave my phone off do not disturb all day. You tell me that you're scared of us being estranged. That you know what it's like to hate your father. You ask me if I forgive you. I can't bring myself to say anything but yes.

I feel like a child who only wanted you to not be mad at me. I feel like the preteen who loved your sense of humor and wanted to be just like you. I feel like the teen who swore that I'd never trust you again, because it hurts every time I do. I don't feel like an adult, the 20 year old college student who had that conversation with you.

I hated you. You hated me.

You always feel like the victim. So do I. We were. And now we're not. And what do we do now?

#parental trauma #vent #generational trauma #emotional abuse

[bbangsoonie]

the star of my life

member: haknyeon genre: fluff (requested) word count: 1,277 synopsis: torn between his friendship with jaehyun and his love for you, haknyeon finds himself in a predicament.

Haknyeon had secretly been crushing on you ever since he first met you back in freshman year of high school. But you were Jaehyun’s little sister and he was Jaehyun’s best friend. He was too afraid to confess because on top of being shy, Jaehyun made it very clear that he absolutely hated the idea of having any of his friends romantically involved with his sister.

Like that, high school flew by and he graduated without ever pursuing you. By the time college came around, Kevin had already been aware of his feelings for years. Yet the Lee siblings still had no clue.

“Now that you and Y/n are both adults, what’s stopping you from confessing?” Kevin asked as he sipped on his americano.

“Jaehyun,” Haknyeon sighed. “He still sees her as a little kid. Which doesn’t make any sense because she’s literally the same age as me and I’m friends with him. But I can’t betray his trust and go behind his back.”

“So don’t,” Kevin shrugged. “Just tell him straight up that you like her and that you want to ask her out.”

“Yeah, like he’d ever give his blessing,” Haknyeon snorted. Wary of the time, he glanced at his watch and got up. “Anyway, I’m meeting up with Y/n to study together so I’ll see you later.”

And with that, he left the cafe to meet you at the library. You both had an exam coming up next week and were cramming to memorize a semester’s worth of information.

After 3 hours of studying, you let out a sigh and laid your head on the desk with a bang.

“We’ve been going at this nonstop and there’s still so much left,” you whined.

In an attempt to lift your mood, a mischievous grin spread across Haknyeon’s lips as he began to sing Oh My Girl’s “Nonstop”. Half embarrassed and half amused, you held back a laugh as you shushed him.

“This is a library!” you whispered while giggling.

“So? This doesn’t cheer you up?” he teased, now singing Twice’s “Cheer Up”.

This time, you exploded in laughter, warranting glares from other students. Quietly apologizing, you slapped Haknyeon’s arm.

“I think our focus is long gone now. Wanna get out of here and go for some ice cream?” he whispered.

You gave into the temptation and decided to reward yourself for working hard. After paying for your favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins, you happily walked out with your cone stacked with scoops.

After taking a bite of the ice cream, you were too busy eating to realize a bit of it smudged on the edge of your lips. Chuckling, Haknyeon wiped it away with a napkin he grabbed from the store.

“So messy,” he joked. “What would you do without me, Y/n?”

“Well, I’ll always have you so I don’t have to worry about that,” you stuck out your tongue.

Your words struck him harder than you could ever imagine. For years, it was a given that he would remain by your side. But he always feared the day you would find another guy and fall in love. It was only a matter of time before it happened if he never acted on his feelings.

It suddenly hit him that if he continued to do nothing, he would eventually have to watch someone else take his place next to you. That was enough to fill him with determination. He decided to finally step up and be honest for once. With Jaehyun and with you.

So the next day, he nervously asked Jaehyun to meet. The older male was completely unassuming as he ordered a coffee, oblivious to Haknyeon’s fingers that fiddled with the cup of juice in front of him.

Taking a deep breath, Haknyeon chose to avoid beating around the bush.

“I like Y/n,” he blurted. “Not just as a friend but as a girl.”

Jaehyun blinked. Once, then twice, and then a third time.

“Dude, she’s my baby sister. She’s off limits.”

“She’s only 2 years younger than you. She’s not a baby. We’re the same age but you don’t see me as a baby.”

Awkward silence filled the air until Jaehyun finally spoke up.

“Why Y/n? Why her out of all girls?” he quietly asked.

“There’s no specific reason why. I just do. I have since the day I met her. I spent all of high school hiding my feelings because I wanted to respect yours.”

The two of them fell into silence once again as Jaehyun processed everything Haknyeon said.

“If you lose Y/n, you’ll lose me too,” Jaehyun warned. It took a second for his words to register in Haknyeon’s head. When he realized what it meant, he beamed.

“Does that mean you’re okay with me going for her?” Haknyeon excitedly asked.

Hesitantly, Jaehyun nodded. Haknyeon jumped out of his seat and hugged the male in front of him. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest and was elated.

Eager to share the news, he quickly texted Kevin, who congratulated him. Now all that was left was confessing to you.

With adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he sent a message to you as well. After you agreed to meet him, however, he was stuped. He hadn’t thought this far yet. He had no idea how to confess.

Flowers? Chocolate? Panicking, he racked his brain for ideas.

Then, as if a lightbulb turned on, he came up with a brilliant plan. Smiling, he asked you to come to your apartment’s rooftop at 9. Though puzzled at the specific request, you shrugged it off and went along with it.

When you arrived at the designated time, you were surprised to see Haknyeon waiting with a blanket spread out on the floor.

“Care for some star-gazing?” he patted the empty seat next to him.

Giggling, you joined him on the blanket. The sky was unusually clear, allowing you to admire the stars.

“Do you remember the day we met?” he suddenly asked. “It was actually right here. I stopped by your place to drop off a game for Jaehyun and he told me about this eclipse that was happening that night. So I headed up to the rooftop first and saw you with this ridiculously large telescope.”

He chuckled at the fond memory, bringing a smile to your lips as well.

“I was really into astronomy back then,” you nodded.

“Yeah, you rambled on about the difference between a solar eclipse and a lunar eclipse. And the difference between an occultation and a transit,” he reminisced.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” you laughed.

“Of course I do. That’s the day I fell for you,” he suddenly confessed, turning to meet your eyes. “The image of you excitedly sharing your passion with a complete stranger is forever ingrained in my mind. And since that day, my feelings for you have only grown deeper and stronger.”

You were shocked to say the least. Your friendship with Haknyeon had always been different from your friendship with your other guy friends. A tiny part of you knew that you liked him in a way that was different from the way you liked Kevin.

You had only ever dreamed of a moment like this. But now that it was actually happening, you were drawing a blank.

“It took me too long to ask this but would you please be my girlfriend, Y/n?” he sheepishly asked.

Still stunned, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. Instead, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his. Taking that as your answer, Haknyeon smiled into the kiss.

a/n: for @ju-kev-nyeon

tag list: @geniejunn​

#deobiwritersnet #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #haknyeon fluff #juhaknyeon fluff #the boyz fic #tbz fic #haknyeon fic #juhaknyeon fic #the boyz scenarios #tbz scenarios #haknyeon scenarios #juhaknyeon scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #haknyeon imagines #juhaknyeon imagines

[journalformycptsd]

Day #2 — Abandonment Mélange

“These feeling states can include overwhelming fear, shame, alienation, rage, grief and depression. They also include unnecessary triggering of our fight/flight instincts.”

These emotions describe my regular state as a child, as well as the full-blown earth-shaking meltdowns I have fairly often as an adult. These crises have become more manageable with time and recovery, but they’re still intense and insidious. It takes time to recognize this kind of abandonment panic attack is happening.

Fear comes from both the idea that I will be abandoned or rejected by others, or the realization that I am dependent on others’ acceptance, or the thought that I will feel this scared and depressed forever and ever. It coils in my stomach like a t2-foot python and constantly slinks in circles, dragging against my insides. It’s paralyzing, It makes my head feel like it’ll explode. All I want is whatever will make the fear stop, no matter what it costs.

Shame makes me want to hide under the house until it crushes me with colonial weight. Thoughts of how embarrassing I am, or how lazy, or incompetent, or hopeless; thoughts of being cruel, hollow, abusive, broken, a burden, a dead-end existence. Fantasies dance around my skull — I imagine being left, being alone, being just like my mother. I see myself shriveled up and empty at the age of 45. I see myself homeless or stuck living with my parents forever. I see myself never knowing love all my life. I see myself taking drastic action. And my resolve not to self-destruct makes me ashamed of these thoughts, and that’s the true destruction.

Alienation is the natural evolution of shame, and it seems like a security measure at the time. Being unlike any other human in the world can be burning and cooling all at once, like frostbite or heatstroke. You think you’ll meet your maker before you meet one person who understands your structural damages. Everyone on earth is a judge, jury, and brutal killer. The idea that no embrace is safe, no place is home, and no one will ever love you — that’s the knife, but it slides in like a needle.

Rage is the scary one, the one I’m ashamed and afraid to feel. I shut that one’s hand in the door all the time, try not to let it burn everything down around me. I vacillate between white hot fury and dry ice depression, and nowhere in between do I find stasis. I anger at others for an imaginary abandonment, the rage I truly feel over my parents’s emotional neglect and murder of my self-esteem. I fume at the enemy, bristle at myself for fuming, and flame through the anguish that conflict creates. I weaken myself to avoid brutality; I demolish others to hide my weakness. I am a complex.

Grief is the godly thing, the wing and the prayer. It’s the healthy emotion I tend to avoid, but it sneaks in subliminally anyway — mourning, guttural bereavement for the safety I’ve never known and the love I crave every day. Wielded correctly, grief sets loose the chains around my neck — but you pull it too tight and you choke yourself with tears, and nothing ever settles into rhythm. I can’t let myself sob too hard. Someone might hear.

Depression haunts like a ghost and tortures by attrition. I feel shame for wasting a day in bed; alienation when two; fear when three, grief at four, and rage through five, six, seven, eight. All I want is to be happy; all I want is to be through with the dark days, the nightmares and the waking horrors of brushing my teeth and making a meal. I speak of depression like a predator, in hushed whispers, keeping my eye out in every direction and hoping to god the beast leaves me to sleep today, to work tomorrow, to eat for a moment. Depression is the monster under my bed, and I’ve been afraid since middle school. Depression is the supervillain. Depression is the end of time.

I hate that I know these feelings so intimately — that I know where they rest in my body. Fear in the stomach, shame in the face, alienation in the heart, rage in the throat, grief in my shoulders, depression in my eyes. I hate that I meet with them every day. They’re the toxic friends I want to leave. They’re the recurring nightmare I can’t wake up from. They’re the wizard, hiding sinister behind that curtain, always running the show.

#cptsd #tw childhood trauma #tw abandonment #rejection sensitive dysphoria #rsd #trauma recovery #tw needles #tw knives #tw depression #book journal #pete walker

[rp-grannies]

[Sentence Starters] BoJack Horseman Season 1

Feel free to add context, change pronouns, names, jobs, and anything else you need to change to make these work for you! Have fun! ^-^

❝ I don't think I should drive right now. I'm incredibly drunk. ❞

❝ Even though you don't want anyone to know it, you secretly have a good heart. ❞

❝ It takes a lot of beer to get me drunk. ❞

❝ Oh, face it! You're afraid of commitment. ❞

❝ I don't know how you can expect anyone else to love you when you so clearly hate yourself. ❞

❝ You've never had a day of stress in your life. ❞

❝ I can't say no to people because I want everyone to like me. ❞

❝ It doesn't get easier. It never gets easier. ❞

❝ I get kinda awkward at parties. ❞

❝ You're responsible for your own happiness, you know? ❞

❝ You not understanding that you're a horrible person doesn't make you less of a horrible person. ❞

❝ What was your childhood like? ❞

❝ In this world you can either do things the easy way or the right way. ❞

❝ You want a day-old hamburger bun? ❞

❝ You stick with me and I promise you everything's gonna be just fine. ❞

❝ I'm gonna be sexy forever! ❞

❝ Is it cool if instead of confronting my problems head on I just hide out here for a little bit? ❞

❝ I'm no longer cute so I have nothing to offer this world. ❞

❝ I feel like we don't ever hang out. ❞

❝ Your boob is a very impractical way to put out a fire. ❞

❝ Hey, notice how I've been ignoring you, playing hard to get? Only makes you want me more. ❞

❝ I didn't do anything wrong because I can't do anything wrong. ❞

❝ We're all just products of our environment bouncing around like marbles in the game of Hungry Hungry Hippos that is our random and cruel universe. ❞

❝ Hooray! Everything is meaningless! Nothing I do has consequence! ❞

❝ For a second I actually convinced myself I was more than a worthless screw-up. ❞

❝ Why don't you do something productive like bang your head against a wall until your brain isn't so stupid? ❞

❝ If you can't find a way to let off some steam, you're going to explode. ❞

❝ Even if no one appreciates you, it's important that you don't stop being good. ❞

❝ Closure is a made up thing by Steven Spielberg to sell movie tickets! ❞

❝ Give me a bottle of something to help me forget my problems. ❞

❝ I actually kinda hate myself a lot of the time. ❞

❝ When I'm with you, I don't hate myself. ❞

❝ You gotta get your shit together. ❞

❝ Clearly we're in love with each other! ❞

❝ You look at your reflection too long, you might fall in love. ❞

❝ Ruin any lives lately? ❞

❝ I'll be alive tomorrow. After that? Who knows. ❞

❝ We're just two lonely people trying to hate ourselves a little less. ❞

❝ Sometimes I feel like I was born with a leak, and any goodness I started with just slowly spilled out of me, and now it's all gone. ❞

❝ Life is a series of closing doors, isn't it? ❞

❝ Maybe I just need to stop expecting you to be a good person so that way I won't get hurt when you're not. ❞

❝ It's never too late to be the person you want to be. ❞

❝ Can we stay exactly like this for the rest of our lives, please? ❞

❝ Do you think it's too late for me? Am I just doomed to be the person I am? ❞

❝ What do you do when you get sad? ❞

❝ There's more to being an adult than just work and business and the tall person rides at Disneyland! ❞

❝ They see greatness in me and they mistake it for goodness, but I... I know there's nothing there. ❞

❝ Let's go feel grass between our toes. ❞

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starter #sentence starters #bojack horseman #bojack horseman season 1

[amylillian22]

What If I Never Get Over You - Part 2 - Chris Evans Imagine

Summary: Chris finds the invitation to Y/N and Cody’s wedding and he needs to see her before the wedding as he’s ready to show her why he broke up with her unexpectedly years ago. 

Word Count: 2,280

Warnings: Mentions of cheating

Author's Note: If your name is Abby or Kayla, I'm sorry. I just randomly picked two names off the top of my head for two other characters in this chapter.

[Part 1] /// [Part 3]

"Do you want anything? I'm going to the kitchen," Chris asked Scott. Scott shook his head, not taking off his eyes from the screen as the Saints we're currently beating the Patriots.

Chris quickly made a beeline to the fridge to get another beer. He grabbed a can and closed the door. He froze once he saw a wedding invitation hung on the fridge. He pulled off the magnet and got a closer look at the invitation.

Join us for the wedding of Y/N Y/L/N and Cody Christian

Chris heart dropped to his stomach as he read those words in black cursive. The beer can slipped out of Chris hand, causing it to explode once it hit the tiled floor. Scott heard the commotion and rushed to his kitchen.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath as he realized the invitation in Chris' hand. He completely forgot to hide it from his older brother before he came over.

Chris looked up at his younger brother, the invitation still in his hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why."

"She can't-" he dropped the invitation on the kitchen counter and ran his hands through his hair. "She doesn't know the truth. She can't marry him until she knows. She deserves the truth, Scott."

"Yeah, she does. I love you, bro, but you did everything wrong with Y/N. She deserved the truth before you broke up with her without an explanation. I'm always going to support you and be there whenever you need me, but when it comes to her... I'm on her side."

"Fuck," Chris groaned as he fished out his car keys from his jean pockets. The game had just started and he only had one beer so far. He was nowhere near buzzed and was perfectly fine to drive. He's not one to walk away from a Patriots game, but he had to see Y/N.

"I gotta go to her," he walked around the spilled beer.

"Oh, don't worry! I'll clean up the mess you made!" Scott yelled out scarastically.

"Thanks!" Chris yelled back before slamming the front door.

***

Chris walked up to a small house, one he remembered fondly and had so many memories in. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He heard Y/N say 'I'm coming!'. His heart was pounding against his chest not knowing what would happen when she would see him.

She opened the door, her smile completely vanishing as she saw Chris standing at her front door with his hands in his jean pockets. She hadn't seen him since he showed up to her live show in Boston. Before then, she hadn't seen or heard from him since he dumped her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I need you to come with me," he answered nervously. He wasn't sure if she would go anywhere with him. Maybe years ago, she would have without any hesitation; but, it's been 6 years.

"Give me one good reason why I should go anywhere with you," she crossed her arms to her chest.

"If you come with me, I promise you'll get the answers to everything that happened 6 years ago."

She stared at him. The look in his eyes were serious, but also pleading. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore. She wasn't in love him anymore. She had moved on. She was getting married in a week.

Yet.... a bigger part in her heart was telling her to go. She deserved to know the truth and finally get the closure she needed to end her chapter with him for good.

She closed the door on him. Chris let out a deep sigh, feeling defeated. He had hope. He believed she would go with him.

He turned on his heel, about to head back to his car when the door opened again. Y/N had her purse in her hand while she locked her front door with the other. She turned around to see him surprised, his lips forming a small smile.

"Hurry up before I change my mind," she said, walking pass him and towards his car.

The entire ride neither one of them said a word. Chris had his eyes focused on the road in front of him, occasionally seeing Y/N from the corner of his eye. The further he drove, the more nervous he got. Although they hadn't talked in years, it wasn't like her to not talk to him.

Y/N looked throughout the passenger's side window, never once bothering to take a peek at Chris. She was too afraid to look at him for many reasons, but she only got in the car with him for one reason: To get some answers.

They were already out of Boston and entering Cambridge. Y/N had no idea where he was taking her. Just when she was about to ask, Chris pulled up to the gate of a gated community. He pushed in a code causing the gates to open a few seconds afterwards.

"You moved?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Not exactly," he said as he continued to drive. He past a couple of streets before turning down a cobblestone street. He drove a mile in before he parked in front of the small park.

The park was empty. There were no kids or adults around, which Chris was thankful for. Although he trusted the small community that lived in this gated area, he still didn't want people to witness what was about to happen.

Without saying a word, Chris turned off the car and left the keys in the ignition. He got out of the car and made his way to the swing set. Without being told, Y/N followed him and sat on the swing next to him. She looked at her feet before slowly swaying herself on the swing.

"Why are we here?" She asked. "I don't exactly know how a playground in a gated community you don't live in gives me answers I deserved years ago."

Chris let out a sigh. "I should have told you the truth. I didn't because the truth hurt me knowing you would hate me forever. The truth would have broken us... but it might have even broken you more."

Y/N stopped swinging as she heard the seriousness in his tone. Yet, he also sounded scared and somewhat sad. She didn't understand it. None of it.

"I still don't get it..." she trailed.

"Just give me a minute or two," he said as he looked down at his watch. The explanation to his break up would be arriving soon.

Y/N's mind ran with a million ideas as she stared at him. Her brain was on overdrive with the cryptic message Chris gave her. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Chris stood up as he finally saw her running towards him. His lips formed a huge smile at the sight of a beautiful six year old girl with his piercing blue eyes.

"Daddy!" She squealed as she ran up to him. Chris immediately caught her when she lunged at him. "Mommy said I get to go home with you early today! I'm so excited to spend the whole week with you!"

Chris hugged her tight and saw her mom, Abby, over her shoulder. On the drive to pick up Y/N, he not only asked if he could pick up his daughter early today, but also kindly ask her not to come to him as he was finally really to tell Y/N the truth. Obviously, Abby knew the truth. She knew Chris was dating Y/N at the time. Back then, she didn't care. Now that she's older and a mother, and although sleeping with Chris gave her the greatest blessing in life, she wish she hadn't slept with someone who was with someone else. It wasn't exactly a good example for her daughter.

"We'll call you tonight," Chris waved at Abby.

"Bye mommy!" The little girl yelled as she saw her mom walking back towards their house. She turned around to see a woman she had never seen before. "Who's this daddy?"

Chris squeezed her shoulders, "this is Y/N."

"Why is she frozen?" She asked confused as Y/N had been standing there the whole time with wide eyes and her jaw dropped.

"Y/N..." Chris gentle grabbed her elbow, causing her to snap out of her shock.

"You have a daughter..."

"He sure does!" The little girl giggled. "And I just turned 6 years old!"

"6?" Y/N paused for a second as she finally figured out the math. Chris had broken up with her 6 years ago. She was the reason Chris broke up with her. He had an affair and got someone else pregnant.

"Six?!" She asked angrily, causing the little girl stood behind her dad and wrapped her small arms around his leg.

"Yes, Y/N. Meet my daughter, Kayla," he lifted Kayla up. She had a huge smile on her adorable face, a smile very similar to Chris'.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. She looked at the little girl, and gave her a small smile. She wasn't angry at her. She did nothing wrong. If she was to be angry at anyone, it was Chris, and she was furious at him.

"It's nice to meet you, Kayla, but your dad-" she swallowed hard, not realizing it would be hard to call him that until now, "needs to get me home."

She headed towards his car. Kayla looked at her dad. "I don't think your friend likes me."

Chris sighed. "It's not you. She doesn't like me, baby girl."

"Then, I guess she's not your friend, uh?"

"Honestly, she never was," he said as he grabbed her hand and led her to his car.

***

Kayla talked about her birthday celebration at school with her friends and teacher. Then, talked about the surprise party her mom and stepdad threw on her real birthday. She asked what Chris had planned for her birthday as she was with her mom during her real birthday when he pulled up in front of Y/N's house.

"Hold that thought, baby girl," Chris said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let me walk Y/N to the door."

"No, that's okay. You shouldn't leave her alone in the car," she said without look at him. She turned back to Kayla. "It was nice meeting you."

Y/N quickly rushed out of the Chris car. She knew he would go after her. After all these years, she still knew him best and he proved her right as she heard his car door close.

"Y/N," he called after her, climbing up the front steps two at a time.

"Don't Chris," she yelled back at the same time the front door opened.

"Babe," Cody said as he saw his fiancé walking up to him with tears in her eyes. He immediately engulfed her in a hug when she crashed into him. Looking over her shoulder, he saw a man he only heard about. The man that broke the love of his life's heart. The man who gave her so many emotions to write songs about that became platinum singles.

He didn't know what happened, but he knew it wasn't good as his fiancé quietly sobbed against his chest. He slammed the door on Chris, hoping once and for all he would be gone and out of her life forever.

"He had an affair," she said between sniffles and pulled back.

Cody noticed there was more to it as she couldn't even look at him. He pushed her hair out of her face, and gently cupped her cheeks before wiping away the fallen tears.

She cleared her throat, pushing the tightness back. "He's a father to a beautiful girl with the woman he cheated on me with."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry," he kissed her forehead.

"Please don't ever do that to me..." she whispered. "I can't go through that again."

Cody's hands dropped from her face and took a step back. She saw the sudden change in his face as his eyes narrowed at her. "How many times are you gonna ask me to not do something he did to you?"

"Cody-"

"I'm sick and tired of you always bringing him up. When are you gonna see that I'm not him?! I'm never gonna be like him! I'm never gonna hurt you like he did. I couldn't live with myself if I did because I love you too damn much," he sighed as he ran his hand over his face. "I'm so stupid. It's been six years..." he trailed. Y/N's heart began to thunder against her chest, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"We've been together for 2 years. We're engaged. I thought you wanted forever with me-"

"I do!" She immediately said.

He shook his head. "We can't have a future if you keep bringing your past in our lives. We sure as hell can't have a future if you keep writing songs about him and not me. You need to let it go. Move forward so we can move forward. So, think about what you want and when you decide what that is, give me a call."

Tears fell down her cheeks as she watched Cody grab his coat and walk out of their house. She felt a familiar pain, a pain she hadn't felt since Chris dumped her in the pouring rain. Except, she didn't know exactly what was the cause of her pain. Cody calling calling her out and letting her decide their future, or finding out Chris cheated on her and had a kid?

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #cody christian #cody christian imagines #cody Christian imagine

[thisbluewind]

fall between the cracks

Pairing: Azula & Katara, background Zutara

Wordcount: 1998

Summary: Azula has a nightmare, and calls Katara. Modern AU

Other notes: so, I wrote this for a gift exchange for a server i’m in, but my giftee asked not to be tagged if i posted it outside the server, so here it is!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28480725

Azula shot upright, eyes wide and gasping for air. It was just a dream; you don’t need to get so upset over it, she berated herself, trying to steady her racing pulse. She could still see it in her mind, her father standing in front of her, the hateful lies he’d insisted were true echoing in her head.

You should have been better. You failed. You didn’t do your duty. And the worst of them all: You're just as bad as Zuko. For all her life, ‘Zuko’ had been Ozai’s synonym for disappointment, worthless, weak, and everything else she wasn’t supposed to be. She knew that her brother was none of those things, but the opinions she’d had drilled into her head for her entire childhood wouldn’t let go. You weren’t good enough. It hadn’t been her fault. If you had been better, this wouldn’t have happened. It wasn’t her fault. You could have stopped this. It couldn’t have been her fault-

She dove for her phone, and dialed the first number that came to mind.

“Azula?” Katara’s tired voice filled her ears. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I apologize for waking you. I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice sounded small and empty. Exactly the way she felt. “I will call back in the morning.” She moved to hang up, but Katara spoke first.

“Wait. What’s wrong?” the other girl asked.

“I… I had a nightmare.” It sounded foolish once she said it out loud, and Azula opened her mouth to take the words back, to lie and convince Katara it was nothing. But once again, her friend answered before she could.

“About your father?”

“Yes,” Azula admitted. “I understand it’s ridiculous to still be thinking about something that happened in college now, but-”

“I’ll be right over,” Katara promised, and the line went dead in Azula’s hand. She stared at it uncomprehendingly. Katara cares about you, she reminded herself. She cares.

In what seemed like forever and no time at all, a quiet knock sounded at her apartment door. Azula swung her legs over the edge of her bed, and stood up quickly- too quickly, it seemed, as the motion set her head spinning. She waited for the dizziness to pass, and walked to the front door. When she opened it, Katara gave her a quick hug. Azula stepped back awkwardly, wordlessly inviting her friend to come in.

Seeing her uncertainty, Katara took her arm, and led her to the kitchen. Once they were there, Azula moved with stiff and practiced efficiency, selecting ingredients and placing them on the countertop. In barely two minutes, there were two warm cups of tea on the table. Jasmine, Uncle and Zuko’s favorite.

Once they were both settled, and sipping at their tea, Katara looked at Azula expectantly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, obviously concerned.

“High school,” Azula said, bitterly. “Was a series of unrealistic and harmful expectations piled on top of me, one after another, with consequences when those impossibilities were not met. College was the result of those three years of buildup exploding in my father’s face, and by extension, mine.”

Katara nodded, clearly struggling to keep any signs of pity off her face.

“I was the envy of the entire school. Popular, intelligent, powerful. And then Iroh helped Zuko come forward about what had happened and when the news broke-” Azula snapped her fingers “-nobody wanted anything to do with the true failure, me. Just like that. Even Ty Lee and Mai abandoned me. I went from the most liked to most hated, in a matter of hours.” She grimaced. “I didn’t come to school for two weeks, but I heard the rumors. She was in on it, he hired someone to fake her success, and all the rest. I never stopped hearing it, not for the rest of my life. Every interview, I’m asked what my role was in what happened to Zuko. If I attempt to befriend someone, they inevitably demand to know what really happened. And if I don’t give the answer they want...” She stared at her feet. “I keep wondering if it’s worth trying again.”

“I didn’t know that it still affected your career.” Katara looked down at her feet. “If you want, I can pull some strings, get you a comfortable position in my company-”

“Thank you, but no.” Azula stopped her. “If I succeed, I have to do it on my own. Otherwise, I’ll just be proving what they all said about me. That my successes will always come from other people’s generosity. Not to mention what it would do to your reputation.”

“Alright,” Katara nodded, knowing exactly what Azula meant. After all, she had gone through the same thing rising to the top of her company, despite Pakku and the others on the Board of Executives doing their best to stop her. “But you need to know that having help doesn’t diminish your accomplishments. There is nothing wrong with needing help sometimes.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about more than jobs?”

Katara shifted in her seat. “I know you didn’t want to when Zuko first brought it up, but I was wondering if you were still so against going to therapy.” Azula flinched from the word, bringing her hands together to rest in her lap. She straightened her posture, feeling like she had to hide all signs of the emotional turmoil inside her.

“My answer remains the same as it did then.” Azula spoke slowly, her words measured and careful.

“Are you sure? I know it helped your brother,” Katara pressed. “Or if you’re uncomfortable with that, maybe you could try talking to Zuko instead-”

“What happened to Zuko and what happened to me are completely different things,” Azula snapped. “We may have both been hurt by our fathe- Ozai, but our experiences were fundamentally different on every other level. He was the hero, Katara. I was just something for my father to brag about. Zuko faded into slightly positive-tinged obscurity after he exposed Phoenix Industries, and I have been vilified by mainstream news reports and my past defines everything I do. He had help and support from Iroh, and I was left to fall through the cracks. Do not insinuate that we went through the same thing in the end.” Katara seemed surprised by the ruthlessness and efficiency with which Azula delivered her argument. And why shouldn’t she be? I’m sure Zuko doesn’t dwell on this as much as I do. But still, Katara had clearly been hurt by her harsh words. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I get it. You’re not thinking straight right now.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Azula stared down at her hands, screaming at herself internally for testing Katara’s patience at- she checked her watch- three-thirty in the morning. She was a fool for bringing Katara into this, a fool for telling her everything, and a fool for never being strong enough to handle anything on her own. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless.  

Blinking back tears, she avoided Katara’s gaze. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. I will most likely be fine in the morning.” Most likely, you’ll be calling in sick to work and sobbing in bed for two hours in the morning. Bad enough that you’re lying again, you don’t even sound convincing.

“Azula, look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”  

She forced herself to maintain eye contact, and forced her voice to remain steady as she spoke. “I will be fine in the morning.” Liar. Liar. Liar. That’s all you do, isn’t it? All you can even do anymore.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Katara slammed her cup down on the table with surprising force. “Do you have any idea how unconvincing you sound?”

“I’m fin-”

“No! Don’t say you’re fine. You’re not fine, and anyone with a single brain cell can see that!” Katara waved her hands as if hitting the air would make Azula listen to her. “I’m completely sick of watching you run yourself into the ground again and again! You take extra shifts at both your jobs and stay up late trying to find a job where you can use what you learned at that fancy law school, and then you burn yourself out trying to be everything you’re supposed to be, while still holding fast to your nothing-to-do-with-Ozai policy! You take a day off to recover, and start the whole cycle again the next day! I hate watching you do this to yourself!” Katara continued her diatribe, but it blurred together in Azula’s ears. Burned out. That sounded about right. But what was the other part? Could it be that Katara couldn’t stand Azula’s method of being a functioning adult? Or perhaps that Katara felt responsible for her, as Azula’s closest (and only) friend? It didn’t seem that way, from the passionate tirade alone.

“Why are you doing this?”

Katara blinked, interrupted mid-rant. “You mean why am I trying to make you take care of yourself?”

“Yes. Why are you trying to make me take care of myself, and offering me assistance in life? The system I currently have is working fine, and doesn’t affect you in any way. I can’t make sense of it. The only possible explanation that I can think of is that Zuko or Ursa put you up to it.”

“Didn’t you say your mother wanted nothing to do with you?”

“You’re avoiding the question. Why?” Azula barely managed to disguise her wince at the mention of her mother. It was her own fault, she supposed, for bringing Ursa into it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Katara blinked. “You’re my friend, and I want what’s best for you. What, did you think I hated you?”

“Well, at first, yes,” Azula confessed, shocked. “I assumed you were spending time around me for Zuko’s sake, and mistook your… forceful personality for hatred of me.”

Katara shook her head and started to laugh. “I’ve gotta say, between dating Zuko and having Sokka for a brother, I’ve heard a lot of things like that, but what you just said takes the cake.”

“Hmph.” Azula tried to frown, but wound up smiling instead

“It’s true,” Katara teased lightheartedly. “I don’t know how you got it into your head that my way of showing complete and utter contempt was showing up at your door with cupcakes on your birthday, or inviting you over for dinner, or coming to your house at three in the morning because you had a nightmare.” She grinned. “Of course, they could have been poisoned cupcakes.”

Azula laughed. “Oh yes, they were definitely poisoned, that’s why they probably had more sugar in them then most desserts.”

“Toph gave me the recipe, you know she has a sweet tooth.”

“Have Mai and Ty Lee finally realized that their pining isn’t one-sided yet?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Katara gave a half-smile. “It seemed like they never would, but it finally happened.”

“I’m happy for them.” Azula smiled. “It’s unlikely that either of them will ever want to speak to me again, but I wish them the best.”

They both lapsed into comfortable silence, sipping their tea and relaxing in each others’ company. After a while, Katara had to leave, as she had work the next day.

“Be brave, okay?” She hugged Azula.

“I’ll try.” Azula hugged back.

The next morning, when her alarm went off, Azula rolled out of bed and stared at the next law firm in her notebook. She pulled up the website on her phone, and was immediately drawn to the sentence in the description that they specialized in dealing with corrupt employers and large megacorporations. In a perfect world, where she wasn’t Ozai’s daughter, it would have been an excellent fit for her. Azula typed the number into her phone, and hovered her finger over the call button. Would they turn her away upon finding out who she was? Be brave, Azula. Katara’s voice echoed in her head.

Azula made the call.

#platonic azutara #zutara #azula #katara #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla fic #misty writes

[jaflynnauthor]

Darak the Minotaur: Smoke and Flame - Preview

CHAPTER 1

The blade of the ax hit the thick bark of one of the various tall trees in the woods. The tree tumbled with a deep thud which radiated across the forest.

Bending his knees, Darak the minotaur lifts the large trunk with two arms with a gentle grunt, over one broad shoulder. This was all in a day’s work for the mighty creature, who stomped through the woods gathering supplies. Food, water, trees for building fires. Up keeping his cabin wasn’t easy work, it was tedious and caused soreness.

Blue skies and golden rays of sun surrounded the beast as he thumped through the land, dirt kicked up with his every massive step. This was the final tree he would bring back to his home.

His brown fur dripped with beads of sweat. His massive bull head turning left and right.  The horns which sat on his head were thick and white, and sharp enough to pierce and slice enemies as a last resort if his hands were somehow bound.

His smooth light brown snout huge, with two large nostrils which moved with every heaving breath. The smell of pine and crisp air put the beast at ease.

As Darak heaves the large trunks back to his cabin, his large, hoofed feet stay undamaged from the various tiny rocks and thorns which littered the woods.

The weather this month was warm, so warm in fact that Darak only walked about in a homemade loincloth, his father and mother had taught him how to sew, how to cut bear skins to make heavy garb. How to use every part of every animal to increase survival. Until the day they died of old age, they guided their son proudly through the woods, teaching him how to survive and to ignore humans as much as possible. The minotaur was now in his young adult years, in his prime for strength and agility.

He hadn’t visited many towns in his life, he hadn’t had much experience with how humans ran their world-but soon that would change. Time and life events can either be kind or cruel, and in Darak’s case, both would collide and change his life forever.

Chopping wood in front of the large cabin, Darak would take time in between chops to admire the birds and squirrels which danced around his home, unafraid of the creature. Leery yes, but animals didn’t hate the minotaur. While these anthropomorphic bulls were uncommon, most just lived their own lives, and went to bed with anyone who would have them.

Darak was 7ft tall, brown furry arms thick as cow hide and muscles that would make a Greek warrior jealous, but he wasn’t a fighter unless provoked. He was a minotaur farmer. Soon to be an accidental warrior.

Once branches were cut and ready to warm his home, Darak stepped into his one-story house.

The cabin held a fireplace in one corner, a large wooden chair sat a few feet from said fireplace. Windows were made of strong glass which casted sunlight throughout the wooden building. To the left of the fireplace, lied a dining room table with mugs and a jug of water collected from a nearby river. He had a Woodcutter’s ax for chores, he had clothes piled in a corner. It was all Darak needed. It was all he wanted.

 Nighttime fell, stars covered the sky, crickets chirped in the distance.

Darak sat in his chair, watching the fireplace. The orange and red sparks calmed him, his brown, furred body no longer tense. This relaxed state was common for him, he was so tired from the day’s work that nighttime was almost a blessing. The cabin was so warm, now he wore no loincloth, meaning he was nude, sitting in a position that frankly would be inappropriate in any other setting. Nudity didn’t bother the creature, it was natural. He didn’t think twice about it, clothing was only needed for protection-and protection was in spades in the cabin.

Getting up from his chair, he stretched with a deep groan, his arms, and legs sore.

He poured himself a mug of water and drank noisily. Splashes hit the floor of the cabin, but Darak paid no attention to it. As he gulped his second mug, his ear flicked to the sound of a twig breaking in the distance-and the sound of human voices.  

Four muscular men each held swords and torches, and one 7ft tall, green orc held a large, two-handed golden ax. Each of the soldiers had armor which was heavy. There boots also coded with metal. The four humans and one orc were prepared for battle.

This was a moment they all waited for.

The orc spoke in a gravely, deep voice. His armor black. He led the four men through Sitka woods. “We strike two at a time. Remember, we cannot kill the minotaur. The queen wants him alive.”

“I can’t believe we have to listen to you, Martin. An orc no less.” One of the men piped up, he stood right beside the orc. He was hired as second in command.

“Shut up.” Martin spat, his teeth sharp, his eyes black. His greasy hair long and tied into a ponytail. His muscles nearly as well build as Darak. “We’ll never get our coin if we alert the beast now, idiot.”

“Suck my cock.” Whispered the bully. Martin slapped the soldier before continuing with the plan-the plan that would ruin Darak’s life.

The minotaur meanwhile had tied a leather kilt to his waist, studded with gold. He rarely wore it but had it in case an intrusion would happen. No one could be too careful in these brutal times.

Darak never wanted to be a soldier of war like most males. Tonight however-the mighty creature would be tested.        

Chapter 2

 The glass window was shattered, Darak nearly jumped out of his fur as a burning torch lied on the ground-and the flame erupted. Coating half the cabin in black smoke and fire.

Quickly filling a bucket of cold water from the kitchen, he threw the liquid onto the flame, but it did no good. Perhaps the torch was coated in some sort of black magic, Darak nearly cried as he watched the walls of the cabin slowly succumb to the flame.

He had no choice but to escape the home, the only home he had. Looking at the heavy wooden door, he snorted in anger and charged-with a mighty blow he knocked the door down and stumbled into the dirt below.

His burning cabin close by, the flames only grew larger.

As the minotaur stood at full height, the sound of arrows flew, hitting his tough flesh. The arrows didn’t do much but cause a mild stinging-but he knew he couldn’t stand the pain forever. Darak now knew his cabin wasn’t burned by some freak accident, but by hunters.

From the dark woods, four soldiers stepped closer to the beast as he frantically searched for the source of the attack-arrows continued hitting him, blood dripped from his chest and onto his large legs.

“We’ve got him!” Shouted one of the men. “Keep firing your arrows!”

Frowning, Darak gripped a large tree branch from the ground, using both hands he swung the weapon-hitting one of the four men who stood in a differing area to flank the beast. Bone and flesh were crushed as the single soldier flew with a terrified scream. The now dying soldier crashed to the ground, his arms and legs shattered, blood dripping from the side of his head.

The other three scattered. In a panicked state, Darak heaved the thick branch over his head and crushed yet another soldier, his body practically exploded upon impact, sending limbs, a geyser of blood and pieces of brain matter up towards the stars.

The final two human soldiers were nowhere to be seen. Darak heard no footsteps.

He took this opportunity to remove the arrows lodged in his flesh. Grunting loudly as he did so. The arrows wouldn’t leave lasting damage, but they hurt like hell and would probably make the minotaur sore for the next few days.

He would have turned to lament the burning of his cabin, until a much larger foe came out from the blackness of night. The green skinned creature spoke. “You’ve got a rather good bounty on your head from the queen. So-I will do what I do best, get you to her and collect my payment. First-I must break you. Mentally and physically.”

Martin chuckled and fearlessly walked up to Darak-both were of similar height and strength. However, Darak had anger on his side.

With the cabin burning brightly behind the two fighters, the orc swung the ax left and right, the right swing grazed Darak’s arm.

Martin then lifted the ax above his head, Darak then gripped the weapon by the top of the hilt as it came down toward his skull. He gave the orc a mighty kick to the chest, causing him to stagger back.

Darak knew he couldn’t just crush this creature; he was much too tall and strong.

The ax swings left, instead of dodging the minotaur gripped the ax yet again, inches from the blade. He tugged as hard as he could. Sending the orc falling forward with a surprised yelp.

With the ax in hand, Darak smiled and swung down, his muscles tense lifting the heavy object. Martin rolled out of the way and stood in a fighting stance.

The heat from the burning home caused the two to sweat, smoke began to fill the air and surround them. Martin quickly rubbed his face, to alleviate the feeling of an intense burn from his eyes.

With a deep yell Darak ran toward the orc, knocking him to the ground.

Now the two were further from the burning cabin, the fires still illuminated their personal fighting arena.

With Darak on top of Martin, both fight over the ax, tugging and kicking.

Martin smiled and took a fist full of dirt, slinging rock, and mud into Darak’s blue eyes. With his eyes closed, Martin took the opportunity to send a booted foot to the minotaur’s large groin. Rolling over on his side, Darak clutched his manhood, tears streaming down his face and yelling in pain.

Martin shook dirt off himself, holding the ax once again and looking down at the injured beast.

Martin sighed tiredly, his armor disheveled, his long black hair covered in dirt. His green skin chipped and bruised. “Sorry my furry friend. No man has beat me yet. You gave a good effort though. Now come with me.” He slung the ax over his shoulder confidently.

The woods were still and silent, except for the fire raging in the background and the heavy breathing from a minotaur and orc.

As Darak went to his knees, mud dripped from his face, he snorted like an angry stallion and with a burst of adrenaline, he yet again slammed into Martin.

Not using his foot as he had before, but the one weapon he had left. The two sharp white horns on his head. Both were dug deep into Martin’s gut.

The orc coughed violently.

Looking down at Darak who now looked less humanized and more beastly. Yanking his large head quickly, Martin’s entrails spilled on the ground. He fell forward.

Narrowing his eyes, Darak picked the golden ax up off the ground and admired it.

He approached his cabin, which now was a pile of black ash, wooden walls still stood, but were ultimately unfixable. The piles of black wood smelled strong, smoke still surrounded the woods as the minotaur helplessly sifted through the rubble, hoping to find something-anything to help him rebuild what he had.

 ***

 There was a lake close by the cabin, so Darak sadly trotted to the large body of water to clean his wounds and wipe dry blood from his fur.

He also took time to shine the brand-new ax he now possessed.

He bathed for an hour, the water was warm as bathwater now that the sun had risen and covered the woods.

He took a few dives under the liquid, swimming and trying to ease the soreness of his muscular arms and legs. Nude and swimming in a lake felt freeing-it felt rebellious, it felt right. Washing away the darkness of night to start a new day.

 Once the minotaur had dried off, he found himself taking one last look at Martin, he noticed he wore a genuinely nice leather kilt with golden studs. Something the minotaur couldn’t ever afford or make.

He unceremoniously removed it from Martin’s hips and put it on himself. Martin was now left half nude and disemboweled-good enough for him thought Darak.

Sadness filled his soul as he realized he’d never again set foot in the home he grew up in. Those memoires would remain, but now he realized he had to make a tremendous change in his life.

The minotaur’s life was once consumed with everyday tasks. Lifting wood, gathering food and supplies, keeping away from humans.

Now his life would be consumed with the one thing he never thought possible. Vengeance.  

Chapter 3

 Waking from her peaceful slumber, Queen Adina felt the chilly morning air from her large bedroom window.

Her bed covered in bright red sheets, the walls a darker shade of red.

Getting up to close the window, she smiled.

Being a ruler was fun. The best position one could be in as far as this time in history.

Adina turned, hearing her bedroom door unlock. She didn’t bother covering her bare breasts. She just faced the door, unapologetically on display. Not an inch of her body was flawed as far as she was concerned. Her blonde hair the perfect length, her eyes a striking purple color. Her scent vanilla, her flesh smooth as silk. At 6ft tall, she was as tall as a lot of the men under her iron fist.

Kiev smiled nervously stepping into the room, never knowing what mood Adina held in her heart. Would she smile and wave or give him a nice slap across his slightly hairy chin?

Her right-hand man held a silk black robe for her to slip into.

“Kiev. You’re right on time as always.” She said as she put the garb on.

“Thank you, my queen. Are you hungry?”

“Not now. Is the minotaur in my grasp?” She didn’t bother tying the robe around her waist. She eyed Kiev; she was now a few inches from his face.

That stare. That stern-tell me everything stare she owned got to the soldier every time.

“No, my lady. The minotaur killed them. I-I ran away after I saw how strong he was.”

“Even the orc?” She cocked her head.

“Yes ma’am.” Kiev clenched his fist. His heart pounded. He admitted he ran off after seeing the destruction. A fine soldier he was, sarcasm spoke loudly in his brain.

Surely, she would hurt him badly for this. “You don’t need to fear me.” She smiled and held the young man’s hand.

She was 27. He was 25.

She continued, her voice smooth as silk. Able to seduce any man she wished. “You’ve been nothing but kind. Nothing but submissive. You ran. Yes-it’s a flaw. But you’re such a handsome soldier, I’ll let it slide.” She leaned in and kissed his lips softly; he tasted a hint of cherry enter his mouth as she did so. “You give me my power.”

She placed a soft hand to his cheek which had a bit of scruff.

Kiev’s black hair reached his shoulders, his eyes purple like hers-however he was not part witch.

Kiev would have kept his distance if he could have. Once the unexpected kiss was placed on him, he was done for.

He removed his armor, his vision blurry. His mind not where it should be. This felt like a dream.

Sitting in one of the many cushioned chairs in her bedroom, she spread her legs and he automatically got to his knees. He looked up, seeing her smiling over him.

“I think we have time for a quick round. Brother.” She chuckled as she forced his head between her legs.

 Adina sits on her throne. Sipping wine and giving small orders to the soldiers that surround her. The wine holds not only grapes, but potions that make her more awake and stronger. She had barely any muscles, but with the help of dark magic she didn’t need to be a muscular woman.  

She wanted the minotaur most of all. Not only was it annoying having him romp in the forests beyond the town, but she also saw a fantastic opportunity. Gladiator fights were once a major source of entertainment for the people of Sitka, but with a lack of bruting men she really couldn’t hold these epic fights.

With a minotaur in the ring though? People would flock to those fights. People would give all sorts of coin to see a beast of that size.

In addition, he could be a great bodyguard for her. When she wanted to take walks. The strength of men satisfied, but a minotaur would give her close to ultimate power.

Everyone feared minitours, dragons-these creatures were the definition of fear. These creatures commanded respect. Adina had respect-but she wanted fear.

The queen looked straight ahead and stood as the double doors of the castle opened.

Stepping closer to her throne were two guards both wearing silver armor and wearing helmets with visors. Both held tight to an elderly man with grey hair and wearing a dirty tunic. His eyes wide and his movements stiff. He had never been brought to the castle before. He had never even seen Queen Adina.

The peasant was forced to his knees once he was close to the throne, two men standing beside the throne drew their swords.

Removing his helmet, the taller of the two peasant abductors spoke. “He was seen trying to steal bread. He said it was for his starving daughter. What say you, old man?”

Adina approached the old man, her footsteps echoed through the castle walls. She smiled sadly, listening intently.

“P-please my queen. I-I only want my family to survive. I don’t have much.” Tears fell from his eyes.

“You want food and drink?” Adina smiled softly, her knee bending to the old man.

“Y-yes. Please. I’ll do anything for it. Anything!”

The queen pets the farmer’s silver hair. “Kiev. Get him a bag of food and wine. Send him on his way.”

Her brother was surprised she showed such mercy. He quickly ran off to get the supplies.

 Oh, how happy the farmer was. His walk was confident. His smile noticeable. He would be set for a long time.

Adina then gripped Kiev’s arm and brought him to a room behind the throne, her personal office.

The office was spotless, covered in glass windows where sunlight beamed through. The desk made of a dark red wood with a marble edge. Papers were all alphabetically organized. She was good at keeping papers signed and other kingdoms happy.

“My brother. I have a favor to ask.” She nodded and shut the office door, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes. Anything. You seem to be in good spirits, sister.”

“Good spirits. Yes. But we can’t have peasants stealing things.” She frowned.

“Well, you fixed that farmer. He’s happier than a pig in shit.”

She handed Kiev a paper with various names. The farmer’s name was underlined. Bob Kirk. “You will kill him tonight. Then retrieve the goods I gave him. For their my goods.” She smirked.

Kiev was going to yell. He was going to throw a fit. He was going to perhaps slap her. He kept his cool. “Well, my sister-who am I to cross you? Who am I to say no? An elderly farmer can’t put up much of a fight. Consider Mr. Kirk dead.” He nodded handing her the paper back.

Kissing his cheek, she nodded. “Gather what you need for tonight. Most importantly? Make sure no one knows it was you. Leave no trace. Can’t have people thinking the queen’s right-hand man is a sadistic bastard.”

 ***

 Once the sun was down, and the sky a black mass, Kiev got his sword ready.

The bedroom he got dressed in was so silent, almost calming had it not been for his half-dressed sister reading a book. Sitting on the edge of the red bed, Kiev did indeed wear his armor, combed his black hair which reached his shoulders. His sword was ready, as were his arrows. Adina didn’t pay any mind to the fact he was donning his full soldier outfit. She didn’t care what he did. She knew he’d come back with the job done.

Kiev opened the bedroom door and looked at his sister with a sigh. “Goodnight, sister.”

“Goodnight brother.” She said not even looking at him. She listened to the door close and her brother’s footsteps retreat.

“The bitch won’t get her way this time.” Whispered the soldier as he left the castle grounds, not bothering to turn back.

He knew he’d be fired, hell in these times ‘firing’ sometimes meant execution.

He knew he’d be an outcast. It was worth it to him. His sister was evil-and sometimes to battle evil, you had to do dangerous things.  

Read the rest: https://www.wattpad.com/story/262230944-darak-smoke-and-flame

#Darak the Minotaur #Writing #Sample #Fantasy #Wattpad

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 2

A cruel chuckle escaped Lilha’s lips as she watched her prey walk down the street with her ridiculous friends. Her fairy companion circled around her, chatting away useless nonsense. Above the vampire queen, the sun rained down its hateful light. While not dangerous to a higher vampire like herself, it still significantly weakened her. At this hour, most vampires were asleep, hiding in terror from this magical girl menace.

She’d been planning this attack for days, studying the girl’s habits and moods. A predator needed to understand its victim before destroying them. Since the return of the sun, Seina had spent an unhealthy amount of time outside. This park was one of her most favorite places to visit. It wasn’t difficult to devise the perfect plan to kill this pathetic, naive girl. Once Lilha’s plan was complete, vampires would return to their correct position as the world’s undisputed masters, now and forever! Darkness would reign again for all eternity!

“Uh, excuse me, but could I have a scoop of chocolate ice cream?” A young child asked, interrupting Lilha’s victory gloating.

Reality crashed down on the vampire queen, forcing her to return to her job. When Seina had devastated her vampire masters, Lilha had lost everything, a queen in name only, forced to work at an ice cream stall to pay the bills! Her uniform was a tacky red hat and an ugly striped shirt.

Before, she had lived in a palace that even the richest of kings would envy. Now, she dwelled in a one-room apartment with a leaky roof and rats. In happier days, her late husband delighted in making humans live in utter squalor for his amusement. It didn’t leave her with many suitable places to live. Her pride made her refuse to live in the sewers like other displaced vampires.

“Here,” Lilha said, handing over the boy’s orders with little enthusiasm. Her excitement had drained away, making her feel dead inside. This brought back too many terrible memories of working at a McRonald's before her queenhood. Back then, Lilha had sworn she’d possess only the best in life.

Curse that magical girl! Curse her! From the corner of her eye, Lilha watched Seina get into position. She bubbled with excitement, eager to see herself avenged.

“I love this view!” The magical girl said, looking over the bridge, watching the clear sky and the cars driving beneath them. After the vampire’s downfall, humans were working hard to return to their lives pre-darkness. While there were fewer cars than in ages past, it was a solid return to normalcy.

“Really?” Colten asked, tilting his bulbous head. To him, it wasn’t that extraordinary. “Oh right. You seldom saw the sun.”

Seina shook her head. She closed her eyes and extended her arms, soaking in the sun. “I could stand here all day!”

The magical girl’s brainless friend laughed. “You’re so silly, Seina!”

The fairy, however, seemed touched, lips extending into a slight smile. “Stay as long as you like.”

Idiot, you’re making this so much simpler! With a slight flick of her hand, the vampire queen signaled the beginning of her plan. In a few moments, the meddlesome magical girl would be dead.

From the darkness behind a trash can, Cugo, the fifth greatest vampire assassin, struck. He pulled out a long green tube and placed it over his shoulder. After closing one eye, Cugo aimed his rocket launcher and unleashed the missile. The target struck home, and Seina’s friends screamed in horror. The projectile exploded, sending the magical girl flying upon impact. Lilha cackled in delight as the girl’s body rag dolled in the air, landing in the busy street.

“Seina!” The fairy’s voice cracked, eyes widening in horror.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Lilha’s mirth increased as the magical girl’s lifeless body landed before a heavy truck carrying construction equipment. The vehicle couldn’t avoid the girl in time and bumped as its enormous tires ran over her.

I did it! Lilha did a victory dance, heartened by the gruesome death of her most hated enemy. Freedom at last!

“Oh, she’s fine. T-thank goodness.” Colten said, throwing cold water at Lilha’s celebration.

I-Impossible. The vampire’s queen stomach twisted in dread, running towards the railing. Sure enough, Seina was sitting up, rubbing the back of her neck. Except for her charred and burned dress, the girl seemed otherwise unhurt. The truck driver exited his cabin, relieved to discover the girl he’d struck unharmed.

“You have to got to be %@$&* kidding me.” Several more curses escaped the vampire queen’s lips. How, why? How did she survive without her magical powers?!

“Change Change, Magical Love Dress Up!” Moments later, Seina leaped to the bridge above to confront her attacker.

“Aiko, are you okay?” Seina asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, just a little scared.” While a little bruised, the girl appeared alright.

“What a dirty trick! Vampires.” The fairy used the name like a curse.

A new voice snorted in derision. “Lucky. I've heard you weren’t easy to kill.”

“So, you’re my attacker.” Seina glared towards the newcomer. Her friend yelped in surprise and fear, hiding behind a nearby bush.

The vampire cackled. “Correct, little girl. My name is Cugo, and I will be your death!”

The vampire was a gruesome sight. Over his pale bare-chested pasty body, tiny bones protruding from his body, each from his many victims. Cugo enjoyed claiming tokens from the people he killed. The sight made the magical girl recoil in disgust.

“Like my prizes?” Cugo purred. “I have so many. It’s my goal to one day kill a billion people!” The vampire assassin cackled again.

Colten snorted in amusement. “You already look like a pincushion. How the heck will you fit a billion?”

“Yeah, I don’t really see how that works,” Seina added. “Why kill a billion? And doesn’t it hurt?”

“Pain is my power! I revel in slaughter and blood! Death is my constant companion.” Cugo withdrew a knife, licking the blade with his tongue. Blood oozed from where he’d sliced its surface. The blood muffled the next words pouring from the assassin’s mouth. “Hurt me more! The more pain you cause me, the more invincible I become!”

“Okay,” Seina replied, nonplus. “And that doesn’t really answer my questions.”

“Why’d I even bother?” Lilha returned to her ice cream cart, discovering several more children impatiently awaiting their treat. While she served her customers, the ex-vampire queen heard her hired assassin’s screams. Moments later, the park was silent. That sneak attack had been their best opportunity to kill the hated magical girl. Lilha wasn’t under any illusion that the idiot had any chance otherwise.

Is this my life now? A single tear slid down her face. Fate had thrust Lilha back into the horrible existence she lived before her turn. The ex-vampire queen wiped her face and pretended to smile as more brats demanded ice cream. She could at least maintain some dignity.

---

“I’m fine, don’t fret, Colten,” Seina said, both annoyed and amused by her fairy friend’s attention. He was examining her for injuries, making sure everything was okay.

“I’m just worried. I was so scared I’d lost you!” Tears welled in the fairy's eyes.

Moved by her friend’s distress, she gave Colten a hug. “I’m not going anywhere, okay.”

Colten sniffed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m just being silly.”

“That was something. How did you survive that?” Aiko asked. “I’m glad, but I thought your brooch gave you power.”

“Yeah, what happened?” Siena asked.

In the month since they’d first met, he’d been vague about this magical girl business. The fairy only stated he’d arrived from somewhere beyond her universe. He’d mentioned magical girls were common where he came from, but revealed little beyond that tidbit. Seina pressed him for more information, but the fairy was sparse on more details.

“It’s your magic, Seina,” Colten replied. “It protects you even when you aren’t transformed.”

“What happens if she loses the brooch? Will she be vulnerable then?” Aiko asked, curious.

“Nope, it’s part of her soul now,” Colten replied smugly. “She’s a magical girl forever.” Despite this simple explanation, Seina got the distinct impression that was something else her fairy friend wasn’t telling her. What was with these secrets? Did Colten enjoy just being obtuse?

Whatever, she’d press him for more answers later. Seina just wanted to enjoy the walk with her friends. Vampires or other problems could wait. They deserved the peace. Besides, she could handle any trouble that could arise, even if she hadn’t learned how to cast spells with her staff yet. The trio was laughing and joking as they headed back home.

After the fall of the vampires, Seina had taken residency in an apartment building uptown. The new prime minister had insisted that she live with him after multiple assassination attempts. With no other place to go, she’d readily agreed. Seina still wasn’t on speaking terms with her parents. They’d disappeared since the incident in the colosseum. Not that she needed them, anyway. She was a big girl, almost an adult! Besides, she had Colten, she didn’t need anyone else.

“Seina, thank goodness you’re okay.” The guard, Ryo, said. “We heard about the assassination attempt. We’ve been looking for you!”

“I’m fine.” Seina waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not even scratched. Prime Minister Ogawa doesn’t need to worry.”

“No, the Minister insists on seeing you, now.” Ryo pushed Seina towards the elevator leading to the Prime Minister’s office, leaving a waving Aiko behind.

“Seina, it’s so good to see you safe!” Uncle Kenji batted his head with a handkerchief. He wasn’t really her uncle, but she’d known him since childhood, and the nickname stuck. After Lothaire’s fall, people had thrust him into a leadership position, taking advantage of his natural talent. Taking the position hadn’t given him much pleasure, but someone needed to be Prime Minister.

“I’m fine,” Seina said, annoyed. “Like I keep telling everyone.”

“If we ever lost you…” The Prime Minister coughed into his hand, embarrassed. “Well, I suppose you magical girls are tougher than you look. Lothaire learned that the hard way.”

“So, what’s for dinner?” Seina had wanted some ice cream, but Colten had insisted it would ruin her dinner, leaving her starving. “Is it true they’d finally caught some fish?”

The darkness had devastated the earth’s wildlife, not leaving much food for humanity. Still, life persisted, and fishermen had already constructed new boats, hoping to return to their old profession and feed their families.

“That can wait. There’s something I wish to discuss first.” Uncle Kenji said.

“About what?” Colten asked, landing on Seina’s shoulder.

“It worries me every time you leave the safety of this building.” The prime minister sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers. “I realize you’re young and you can’t stay cooped up here. After some consideration, I decided it would be wise to assign you a guardian. Come in.”

Moments later, a scary-looking man with intense, piercing eyes entered the room. His brown hair was wild, and silver earrings pierced both of his ears. A small goatee ordained his face, adding to his rough features. He gave the Prime Minister a bow and studied Seina with interest with those terrifying eyes of his.

“This is Masato Kiyojiro, and he’s going to be your bodyguard.”

The man in question gave a polite bow. “I will protect you with my life.”

Seina gave her own awkward bow. After a moment’s hesitation, she gained the courage to speak her mind. “Um, I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m pretty powerful by myself. Not even a rocket launcher can kill me!” What if he attempted fighting something beyond his ability to beat? He couldn’t really protect her, so she hated putting him to the trouble of watching over her.

“This isn’t only about having someone to protect you. You’re a ten-year-old girl, Seina. You need someone to watch over you, and Kiyojiro is the man.” Kenji replied.

Colten snorted and puffed out his chest in pride. “She doesn’t need a protector. Seina has me!”

“Didn’t you say you’re nine?” The prime minister said, amused by the fairy’s bravado.

“A very mature nine!” Colten shot back.

Seina gave Mr. Kiyojiro a polite bow, who only replied silently with a cold-eyed stare. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kiyojiro, but I don’t think this will work. You’re just, well, a guy. It’s best if I worry about my own protection.”

“Seina, we aren’t arguing this. Kiyojiro is accompanying you from now on.” The Prime Minister’s voice brooked no argument. “And that’s final.”

“But!”

“Seina.” Uncle Kenji’s expression hardened.

“Fine.” Seina looked away, surrendering to the adult’s argument. Still, why this man? The prime minister could have found someone nicer.

Might as well face it now. “Hi, I’m Seina. It’s nice to meet you.” Seina gave her best, winning smile. It did little to improve her bodyguard’s mood, he only gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Seina's smile turned awkward, but she wanted to make a good impression.

“This is so dumb!” Colten flew around in circles in agitation. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to have someone around to carry our bags or something.”

The fairy flew into the bodyguard’s face. “But know this. Seina’s protector is me! Got it? We’re partners, after all.”

Mr. Kiyojiro scowled, giving a snort of irritation. Colten quickly flew behind Seina for protection from his magical girl’s thuggish bodyguard. Seina sighed, knowing this change would be difficult to adjust to. She only hoped her new guardian wouldn’t scare her friends away. Her life had enough complications!

“Anyway, I’m famished,” Seina said. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Mr. Kiyojiro nodded. “I’ll prepare something for you. How does curry sound?”

“That would be great,” Seina replied, taken aback.

Truth be told, she’d never eaten curry before. For most of her life, before the sun’s return, Seina had spent her days eating nothing but slop and the occasional rat for a special treat. It was hard to know what exactly she liked with such little experience with actual food. Still, curry sounded interesting, and why not? She’d taste anything once.

“Mr. Kiyojiro is an excellent chef.” Uncle Kenji said in amusement. “It’s one reason I hired him. He isn’t just muscle, you know.”

“Huh, I suppose that somewhat justifies keeping him around,” Colten replied.

---

“So, this is the place? You’re certain?” Takako tilted her head, studying her surroundings. She watched as a couple walked down a park. Despite the park’s dead trees and general ugliness, they held hands, smiling without a care in the world.

“It should be. The universal coordinates are correct.” Nier said, landing on her shoulder. “Something’s not right here. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yeah.” Takako flicked her skull-shaped earrings.

People approached, and she hid behind a tree before they could notice her. These folk dressed in thick overalls, picking up trash, cleaning graffiti, and marking trees they found too hopeless to live. She’d seen people like this all around the city. They were ordinary folk attempting to restore the broken pieces of their lives and repair their broken world. It seemed almost everyone had volunteered to restore the city to its former glory.

“This wasn’t how they described this world to us at all!” Nier’s flying became more erratic as he got frustrated.

“Something huge happened here.” A jogger passed her, each step filled with effort and determination. The general wrongness was making Takako’s stomach queasy. While faint, her senses detected something. A presence that shouldn’t exist.

“We should find the source before this gets worse!” Nier said, and Takako couldn’t agree more.

With a gesture, she returned to normal. Her transformed state would draw unwanted attention. Whatever had caused this radical shift might learn of her existence, and that would be bothersome. Nier flew into her handbag. His head popped out, watching his surroundings with a keen eye. While still flashy, Takako’s outfit wasn’t as noticeable as her magical girl form. Takako briefly considered disguising herself in the local rags but decided against it. She had standards.

With a flick of her hand, a black umbrella plopped open and placed it over her shoulder. The shade it provided was a great comfort. The sun’s rays were almost oppressive as it shined down on them.

“Come, let’s investigate!"

#fiction #anime #anime stories #written story #parody #Starlight Dream #magical girl #humor #vampires #Adventure

[captain-emmajones]

Love, Emma (4/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem​ <33)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014). Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Killian and Emma will dance around each other, until their heads spin and their legs hurt, and everything becomes blurry and it has to stop – for both of their sake.

Title is from Taylor Swift’s Peace – which clearly inspired the mood of this chapter. 

A huge thank you to @profdanglaisstuff who beta’d this and gave me her usual precious advice, and also big thanks to @carpedzem who screamed at me in the best way possible <3 

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 6000 words - ao3

Last scene of the last chapter was Killian arriving in NYC after the whole Neal stole watches and Emma impulsively runs away thing. This chapter opens on Killian, Emma, MM and David in MM’s kitchen -- right after Emma and Killian’s hug.

Part 1 - Mirrorball , Part 2 - AUGUST, Part 3 - HOAX, Part 5 - This is me trying, Part 6 - Cardigan,  Part 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

PART 4 - PEACE 

Would it be enough

If I could never give you peace?

.

Four years before Emma’s wedding – New York.

As Killian makes small talk with David and Mary Margaret in the kitchenette, Emma is quite thankful she cried this hard. While she really went all in, wept with both her eyes and her nose for a good ten minutes and clearly smeared Killian’s sweater for life in the process, Emma must confess that she does feel better.

Scientists didn’t lie about dopamine. The grey feeling in her chest is twirling in a salt puddle, but Emma knows it won’t be drowned forever. (Not when hazel lingers behind her eyelids, anyway.)

As she sits next to Killian, in front of a plate of scrambled eggs, Emma feels like she might be floating on a cloud. She’s almost tempted to close her eyes, and get some well-deserved rest, but Killian might leave again and her eyes shoot open at the thought.

She did not forget his text. He said he would be busy. Why isn’t he, suddenly?

Her fork slides to the right, and nearly stabs her cheek. Emma sighs, embarrassed, but they don’t notice her, engulfed in their conversation. That’s for the best.  

A nasty hope raises her heart. Maybe, just maybe …

But then, no. No. She deserves better than this, better than being left hanging for him to look back at her. Knowing he never does.

“Well, I’m glad to see you two are still the most infuriating couple in town.”

Emma looks up to see a smile on Killian’s face. He is peeling an orange, and its smell fills Emma’s lungs with Christmas memories and Ingrid’s tender smile. She must be worried sick.

Guilt circles Emma’s throat, until she gets distracted by the orange peels dropped next to her. They look like petals.

Emma thinks, as Killian sits next to her, all upright and proper and Navy, that she sees him for the first time in ages. That the strawberry cloud surrounding him has blotted – somewhere between their last goodbye and the moment she realized she was blaming him for her grey, fuzzy feeling. She doesn’t know if she is allowed to blame him. Probably not. But it still itches.

David and Mary Margaret obviously like Killian. She sees it in the way David presses his shoulder when he reaches for butter, and Mary Margaret makes sure his cup of coffee is never empty. She thinks they always did like him more than they liked her. But that’s fair. She also liked Killian better.

“Aha, thank you, mate ,” replies David, and he has a green apron on his right shoulder and he looks very much so adult and Emma frowns, feeling like she missed an important step from teenagerhood to adulthood. “What about you, any lovebird?”

Well, now that was quick.

Mary Margaret’s swiftly elbows David in the ribs, but it’s too late. The eggs are already stuck down Emma’s throat, and it feels like a strong hand is strangling her. She coughs loudly, and a glass of water is pushed in front of her. Killian.

He won’t let her be mad, will he?

“Careful, Swan.” He even dares to smile. She wants to yell at him but Mary Margaret and David would stare, and she would have to explain why she’s yelling, and then she would have to talk about this funny, funny feeling in her belly when she thinks about M, and… She drinks up.

Killian gives a small chuckle then, but Emma barely hears it. She only hears the fickle buzzing of her heart.

“Sorry mate, I’m not the type to kiss and tell.” Killian’s words are sure and calm.

Without a glance, Killian hands Emma an orange slice, as if it were the most natural thing in the world – and sure, for a while it was –  and she shoots him a death glare but she takes it all the same.

What does he think he’s doing? Does he think she’s just his to pick whenever he feels like it?

The small slice is very delicate and it leaves tangy, sugary drops on her fingers, but she does not think too much about it and shoves it in her mouth. It explodes in orangey sweetness.

“Can we change the subject?” asks Mary Margaret, and Emma isn’t looking up but she knows she’s staring at her with all of the compassion and the pity in the world and it makes Emma even madder.

Everything is so bitter. She doesn’t know where to look, where to be, for the pain to flatter.

“I need to get out,” Emma exhales suddenly. She doesn’t mean to say it like that, but those are the only words her brain comes up with.

“Oh. Alright. Well, David and I were thinking about going to the Christmas market but—”

“— It’s fine. You guys can go to the Christmas market, I’ll stay with Emma.”

Emma doesn’t offer Killian a glance, instead buries her nails into her palm. How dare he.

“Are you sure, Emma?” asks Mary Margaret, and Emma wants to snap back that she should have thought about it before inviting Killian over, but then she sees the gentle glint in Mary Margaret’s eyes and she can only sigh.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Killian and I need to talk, anyway.”

She hopes Killian’s heart makes a loop in his chest and the tip of his ears turn scarlet, as they always do when he is embarrassed. It’s all he deserves.

“Well, then it’s settled.”

And Emma wishes it didn’t smell like oranges and Christmas in the room, because then it would be easier to hate Killian Jones, for sure.

.

Bare are the trees of Central Park as Killian and Emma walk in, their boots crushing the fresh snow. Crunch, crunch, it sings. Emma loves that sound.

She is wearing her biggest red coat and a huge beanie but she is still shaking. She buries her hands in her pockets, walking ahead of Killian, and when she looks back he isn’t by her side. Panic rises in her mind, until she gets a glimpse of him a little down the street, queuing next to a coffee shop.

As she walks to meet him, her stomach twists. He’s getting her a hot cocoa. A green and viscous fury creeps from Emma’s toes to her heart. When he hands her the steaming cup, his fingers brush against hers and she blames the cold for the shiver that tingles her skin.

“Thanks,” she hisses, but still will not look at him. Twirls of chocolate steam escape the cup, it smells like heaven.

But Emma is very determined to hate Killian, from now on, and she hides her grin behind her cup.

“Should we sit on the bench?” offers Killian, and she loathes the gentle tone of his voice.

“Yup.”

Down the park, families are strolling and Emma’s heart sighs loudly. Oh, this is very much so unfair. What’s even more unfair, though, is the fact that when Killian presses one hand down her back, she doesn’t want him to stop.

She wants him to linger there. And when his hand quits her back as he sits down on the bench, it leaves frostbite.

She licks her lips, squeezing her thighs together. “Are you alright, Swan?”

She nods and sips the hot chocolate. Clouds of cinnamon tickle her nose. It makes her smile against her will, and then it makes her sad. He knows her by heart. Can you really leave someone you know by heart behind?

“I’m fine. So, we said we would talk,” she quickly mutters, and takes another sip of her warm drink.

Ah, this hot cocoa is definitely soothing her soul.

Killian crosses his legs, and she knows he only does so when he is uncomfortable and she is glad. He better be.

“What do you want to talk about?” Christmas lights twinkle in the trees behind him. They form the shape of a snowflake.

“First, who called you?”

They are green, red and yellow, the lights. Their sight should not tighten her throat like this.

“Ingrid. She was worried about you. She wants you to come back, Emma.”

She nods, a small, quiet cloud of white smoke escaping her lips.

“I thought she’d hate me. I thought she wanted to get rid of me.”

Killian’s furious stare burns the side of her cheek, and Emma blushes but she won’t look back at him.

“Why would she hate you, Emma? Ingrid’s always cared for you.”

She wants to tell him that he cared and he still left, but then she would start to cry, and she does not want that.

“Yeah, right. Well. I’m not used to someone putting me first.”

It’s hard to shake Neal’s smile from the cobweb of her thoughts. She thought he liked her. Hell, she thought he was in love with her and she was the one incapable of moving on from her teenage crush. She thought she was the one throwing away their chance at happiness. She was wrong.

And Killian reaches for her then, breaks their secret and unspoken oath of distance and loneliness and grabs the hand she let linger on the cold, wooden bench, and Emma can’t control the great dive of her eyes into his.

And blue are his eyes, icy blue, and so full of warmth, and she wants to drown in them. She clenches her jaw.

“I’m sorry for what happened, Emma. You deserve so much better than that scumbag.”

Well, does she? Anger burns deep within her. It’s a wicked flame.

She snatches her hand away from him and in that gesture she catches a smell of peeled oranges and everything sucks again.

“You were with her, right?” she attacks then, pushed by this bold fury in her heart, and they have to talk about it or it will kill her.

He opens his mouth then, but no sound comes out, and Emma swallows frozen stones.

“I…I was.” A pause. “How long have you known?”

She shakes her head then, blonde hair dancing over her eyelids. “Since this summer.”

But also, far before that. She thinks she knew the moment he stopped answering her calls at midnight and their texts got more scattered. That was probably the moment she knew.

She buries her hand in her pocket, so that he will not grab it again, and she drinks long mouthfuls of her hot cocoa. She swallows too fast and the vindictive liquid burns her throat. She winces.  

“I see. And since we’re talking great revelations, how long has this thing been going on with Neal?”

So much for friendship, she thinks. So much for loyalty and comfort and trust. It nearly hurts as much as the savage burn left by the hot cocoa down her throat. Liar.

“This summer,” she lies.

She wants him to think she never cared, even if she most clearly does, or she wouldn’t be clinging to her hot cocoa this way.  

There’s a scoff next to her. “I see.”

And then silence falls, and Emma doesn’t want this battle to end. But when she glances at him, his hands are calmly spread out on his lap, his cup of cocoa long forgotten, and she wants to shake him, to tell him to fight for her, for them, but he is already defeated and he doesn’t care.

“That’s it?” she asks, and her voice is hoarse with tears.

He looks at her then, shrugs. “What do you want me to say, Swan?”

Anything. Anything but his silence and his mature smile and his soft eyes that don’t see her.

“We’ve made mistakes, both of us, in keeping secrets from each other.” A pause. “I made a mistake. I should have talked to you. You’re my best friend, after all.”

“But we didn’t, Killian.” And this is very dangerous, because there is a sob curled up in her throat that is very eager to come out, and she cannot, she cannot let it out.

She needs him to understand.

“Why didn’t we talk about it, Killian? Why didn’t you say anything? Why?”

And he’s staring at her with his big blue eyes, and she feels miles away from him.

He must feel it, he must know how wrong this whole situation is, for them to be with anyone else, he must feel it or she’s been wrong all along.

“Because –” he starts and she’s glad to hear his voice is quivering, too. “— because I care too much about you. I didn’t want it to change anything between us.”

The Christmas lights are so very sad suddenly. “But it has changed everything, Killian.” A snowflake lands on his black, tousled hair. It’s snowing.

“Are you mad at me for leaving?” he asks then, and it’s such a quiet whisper in the snow, she barely hears it.

Anger turns to sadness. It always does.

She peers at him through her eyelashes. “No. Yes. ” A pause, the cold is biting her lips. “I tried to hate you for leaving.” And then he looks sad, and she remembers his own sorrow, and guilt circles her throat. “But I couldn’t.”

Her tiny cold hand leaves the safety of her velvet pocket to grab his palm, and she hopes he hears it. I’ll love you until the end of time.

And in a heartbeat, she presses her lips against his scruffy cheek, discovers his skin cold and damp, and there is a stubborn, stubborn hope in her chest – the hope that he might turn his face at the last moment and drink her breath.

He doesn’t.

When she backs away, her hand lingers on his face as she gazes at him intensely – to remember the gentle shadow dropped by his thick eyelashes on his cheekbones, his cheeks that have turned crimson, and his lips, vibrantly red and tasting of chocolate, his entire face as she allows herself to run after him, one last time.

Her hand leaves his face for the cold wetness of his coat, the bracelet at her wrist ringing, ringing, but she cannot let go, not quite now.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” He whispers, and finally turns his face towards her. It’s unfair. He is twenty seconds too late.

Her heart skips a beat. She thinks it echoes all through the park.

“I never meant to hurt you.”

She nods, and she should find peace in that, but she doesn’t. And it’s fine. She doesn’t need peace, not when this soft flame burns within her. Not while it keeps her alive.

“I know that, Killian.” And she glances down at his lips, stares intensely at them, and she is this close from kissing him, this close, but he backs away, and she smiles – defeated. “Thank you for coming, even though you were busy.”

And she watches him lick his lips, frown. “I’d drop everything for you, Emma. I will always have your back.”

She nods, her heart bursting. Her hand falls down his arm, a pink petal dropped in the snow, and reluctantly settles for holding her cup of hot cocoa. It feels like something is being ripped from her flesh. But that is also fine.

She stares straight ahead, at the Christmas trees and the families, and she exhales: “Let’s go see that Christmas market, huh?”

“Aye.” And he stretches his hand for her to hold, and the tip of his fingers is red and frozen and, before she knows it, his lips are pressed against her cheek, and a flower blooms in Emma’s chest.  

And when she looks up, she swears she sees him bend towards her, a liquid flame burning in his gaze, and her breath gets caught in her throat. But then he stops, and snow melts on her lips.

The distance between their bodies, the unfinished course of his lips towards hers, the heartbeat she misses, all of this is fine.

She links their arms as they walk, muffling the voices in her head. They tell her she shouldn’t play with fire, but she has nothing to lose anymore.

.

Killian throws their now empty cups of hot cocoa in a nearby bin while Emma calls Ingrid. A weird pang lingers in his chest. This crisp winter day carries Christmas smells with it that fill Killian’s lungs with nostalgia and a strange kind of hope.

As he watches Emma pace restlessly in front of him, unaware of her surroundings, he feels proud of her for reaching out to Ingrid first.

Killian watches as Emma clenches onto the phone, throws a strand of hair behind her back and frowns, heels clacking on the pavement, and he notices just how different she looks. Her hair has grown, and she styled it to form golden curls over the red of her coat. She’s wearing lipstick as well, a bright red shade, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her with it.

She’s changing. Evolving without him. It shouldn’t feel like this, in his throat, but it does, and in a blink he looks down at his feet to conceal his feelings.  

His thoughts go back to Neal then, Neal who’s hiding somewhere and he desperately wants to find him and smash his pretty, pretty face.

But then he hears the click of Emma’s black boots on the snow coated pavement, and he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. There’s not much else to do but smile.

“Come,” she smiles and grabs his arm, “Everything we need is right in front of us.”

Oddly enough, they spend a good day together, one that brings Killian back to summer nights and long walks along the beach, and her hand in his, and the feeling, the conviction that this would last forever.

As they eat crepes and toasted marshmallows and somehow their laughter echoes between New York’s brick buildings, forever is merely a word and they are fighting against the passing of time.  

All of this is ephemeral. But then again, everything is. Perhaps it is the reason why he wraps his arms quite as hard around her when she whines “I’m so cold, so cold” by a street corner, and she is so small in the crook of his neck, and his lips linger on her forehead as a chuckle shakes both of their shoulders.

(They never join Mary Margaret and David.)

And when nighttime falls, and they’ve finally reached Mary Margaret’s building, and it is time to say goodnight and goodbye, always goodbye, he makes a conscious effort in memorizing the features of her face. The pavement shines, glints, glistens under New York’s street lights, wears its prettiest fluorescent feathers.

And Emma’s face is inhabited by that same green, wet light. Her curls have loosened throughout the day and a crown of baby hairs is escaping from her beanie. She only looks more beautiful and touching. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold and her eyes are two green lakes shining with gentle sparkles and her mouth is wet and he desperately wants to kiss her.

It would be easy to cave in, lean forward and drink her breath. Easy to take advantage of her broken heart and mold it with his hands.

And then what? Emma does not like him like he does, Emma is in love with Neal, she always has been it seems, and kissing her wouldn’t lead anywhere but to more heartache.

And he thinks of Milah then, Milah who’s betrayed him but whom he deeply cares for and who is willing to be with him. Milah who loves him, and whom he might love, if only he allowed himself to.

He wants to tell Emma then, join me in my hotel room, I did not come all the way here just to spend a few hours with you, come lie next to me and we’ll – Sweet, sweet fantasy.

Where would that bloody lead them?

“So, this is it. I’m expecting you to call me once you’re safe and home at Ingrid’s,” he finally whispers, and he sees it, this strange glimmer in her eyes.

She’s smiling, nods, seems at peace.

“You never told me her name. What is it?” she suddenly asks.

Frozen, frozen snowflakes fall all around them. The fire burning between their two bodies is still excruciating.

“Milah.”

She nods again. Breathes in and, he’s starting to understand as well, lets go. Very resolute, very brave when she kisses his cheek – for just one instant. And then her lips vanish.  

And she smiles again, and Killian finally understands he is losing her forever.

He watches as she carefully cuts the golden string tying her to him, and his hand has a small jolt but he is not quick enough to stop her.

“I’ll see you around, next summer, I guess,” she simply mutters and does not wait for his reply to turn around.

The din of her boots echo on the pavement, until it does not.

And just like that, he’s lost her.

.

Watching Ingrid’s yellow bug park in front of Mary Margaret’s building, this Sunday morning, really stirs something strange and unfamiliar in Emma’s chest. She doesn’t know quite why but suddenly there is this heavy, heavy weight on her chest and it is hard to breath.

“It was nice to have you here, Emma. Do come back, when you are not in trouble, some day,” smiles Mary Margaret, and then she’s wrapping her arms around Emma’s body.

And Emma breathes into her, and she thinks everything is terribly overwhelming, but maybe it is a good kind of overwhelming for once. She clutches onto her friend.

“Thanks, Mary Margaret. I’ll be more than happy to come back.”

And then David’s pulling her into another hug, and Emma starts to think life doesn’t suck as much as she wants to believe it.

Ingrid gets out of the car, rubbing her hands together. “Well well, they don’t lie about New York weather.”

And Emma cannot tell but her face is definitely splitting into a ridiculous, ugly smile, and her chin starts quivering. An ocean of unfamiliar emotions is swallowing her. But maybe, just maybe, as Ingrid’s green eyes find hers and shine so very softly, maybe she is allowed to feel them.

“Emma.”

“Ingrid.”

And then Emma doesn’t know who reaches first, it’s her, it’s her stretching her hand and grabbing Ingrid’s shoulder and pulling her against her, until the weight on her chest explodes into thousands of strawberry bubbles of happiness.

And it’s really hard to swallow the tears that threaten to come out of her eyes when Ingrid’s hand finds her scalp and gently massages it, and her smell fills her lungs, and she never realized Ingrid had a smell and that it smelled like home.

And then Ingrid’s lips are on her temples and Emma is nowhere to be found, melting into a puddle of glittering happiness.  

And when she looks behind her back, Mary Margaret and David have disappeared.

“I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, Emma.”

And then Emma shakes her head, nods, laughs a little. “It’s fine, Ingrid. It’s fine. It was equally my fault.”

Ingrid grins, her hands cupping Emma’s face, and Emma feels safe and loved, and she forgives both of them.

Emma learns during their car trip back to Storybrooke that Ingrid found the jewelry store where the watches were stolen, and she gave them back, and the shopkeeper was so happy he withdrew his complaint.

Neal is nowhere to be found. But Emma thinks that’s quite alright, because this pain will fade away with time as well.

And when Killian sends her a text “Safely landed. Already missing you”, Emma ignores it and shoves her phone down her bag.

This pain will fade away with time as well.

.

Six months before Emma’s wedding.

Emma’s running. She’s running like she’s never run before. Mind you, as deputy Sheriff of Storybrooke, for two years now since David left for New York, running is part of her job description. But she’s never run with this kind of fervor before.

She’s running as if Killian Jones might close his eyes and never wake up.

“Family?” asks the hospital nurse without a look at her.

Big, big pearls of sweat roll down Emma’s temples as she stares at the nurse with eyes wide open, trying to catch her breath. “Y-yes,” she lies, in the blink of an eye.

And then the nurse glances down at her left hand and Emma knows she sees the ring on her finger and thinks –  but she is mistaken and it is fine.

“Alright. His room number is 815.”

And Emma turns around like a devil, like she’s possessed really, and she thinks she is, she is possessed by a fear that’s tearing her heart down and setting it on fire.

“Miss?”

“Mmm?” What again?

“You might want to prepare yourself. He was given a huge amount of morphine, to lessen his pain. He probably won’t be awake when you come in. ”

Emma nods, swallows downs a disinfectant smell that burns her tired lungs. If she could prepare herself she would. But there’s no preparing for that.

.

As she steps into Killian Jones’s hospital room, Emma feels like her heart is thrown at her feet and the whole world is joyfully trampling on it.

Her entire universe stopped spinning when she received the call. (She’s still his next of kin. That thought alone infuriates her.)

But as she faces him, lying still on this small bed, his skin, so pale, so pale he nearly seems dead, with his eyes resolutely closed and this enormous, horrendous bandage around his wrist, she wonders by which miracle her legs manage to hold her.

“Killian…”

She tries to convince herself she won’t cry then, but her eyes do not care for her pride and are soon filled to the brim with tears as a smile crinkles her face, but it’s not a smile, it’s a terrible, terrible sob that won’t come out.

She drags her boneless legs towards the bed, and then she’s faced with an awful dilemma: where to touch him, where to tether herself, and not to hurt him in the process?

Her eyes twitch, she blinks, and settles for brushing slightly his cheek.

“Hello there,” she whispers then, “Heard you had a very bad fall. I came as soon as I could.”

Flashes of Neal’s anger and disappointment and anger and more disappointment linger behind her eyelids. He was furious.

He couldn’t understand why she would drop everything, why she would drop him on the spot, just to save this childhood friend she hasn’t seen in a year.

“When, Emma, when are you going to choose me over him?”

And he tried to take her engagement ring away, the one she is turning around her finger, swirl, swirl, the golden ring, the golden cage.

A very viscous bile climbs back up her throat.

“I missed you,” she exhales, and clenches onto his bruised knuckles.

She gathers all of her willpower not to stare at the void, the void where his hand is supposed to be, and she licks her lips because she is scared this is one blow will simply be too much to withstand.  

Life has a peculiar fondness for punching Killian Jones straight in the face, it seems.

.

Opening one’s eyes is really the most natural thing to do. Until one’s eyelids seem as heavy as lead, and there isn’t much for one to wake up to.

His life really fell apart, in those last months, huh. Which is why, as this bloody machine closed on his wrist during the ship’s inspection, Killian Jones really wasn’t that surprised. He would have chuckled if not for the pain, taunting Fate with a very sharp “Oh, is that what we’re going for now?”

That’s what he got for being promoted to Lieutenant. Any good Lieutenant made sure the ship’s mechanics were properly checked before sailing away. And he did, bloody hell.

It was the worst ship launching the Navy had seen in years. Killian would be proud if not for the pain, again.

And then he hears her voice. “Hello there,” and for a minute he fears he is dead.

But then her hand is on his face and the sun couldn’t possibly shine in hell, could it?

He wants to reach for her, but the only hand he has left refuses to move, and it is driving him mad. Her smell fills his lungs, fills it with ginger and herself and meaning.

And then she leaves the room and it is darkness and void and silence. And he wants to scream.

.

David and Mary Margaret stand up as one in the waiting room, as Emma shuts Killian’s door behind her.

Seeing them is such a relief, it makes her forget the pebbles in her belly for one instant.

“Emma, honey,” and Mary Margaret’s arms are around her, and it’s a wave of comfort. “We came as soon as we could.”

Emma drove all night from Storybrooke to Portsmouth and coffee is starting not to be enough to keep her eyes open.

“He still hasn’t woken up?” asks David as he presses his hand on Emma’s shoulder.

She shakes her head. “Nope. He went through surgery last night. He should wake up any time now.” This bitter taste in the back of her throat will not fade and the thousands of coffees she’s had only worsen it.

“How…How did Neal take it? Considering he was opening his pawnbroker’s shop this weekend?” risks Mary Margaret, in a very small voice.

Right. Neal.  

Mary Margaret doesn’t mean to hurt Emma any further, but there it is, the weight on her finger, swirl, swirl, swirl.

“Bad. Very bad. But he’ll manage.”

Emma tries to ignore their concerned eyes then, because they know too much and she doesn’t want to prove them right. Although every inch of her being is probably giving her away anyway.

Swirl, swirl, swirl.

But she wants to belong to someone, and Neal knows her, in spite of everything, he knows her and he chose her, and it is enough. Hell, he fought for her, for two years, showing up every day at the sheriff station once he learnt Graham had taken Emma under his wing, he showed up and he showed her he cared.

And she quite literally put him through hell before giving him a second chance after his first betrayal.

“I never meant to let you go, Emma. I swear it to you, but the police were at my back and I couldn’t bring you into all of this. But I never stopped loving you, I never did, and I’ll love you until the end of time – only if you’ll let me.”

And sometimes, all one really wants is to be wanted, after all.

“Do we… Do we know if she’s coming?” asks Mary Margaret in a very quiet tone, as if she doesn’t want to utter the words.

Emma has a big sigh then. “No, she’s not. Killian definitively broke up with her three months ago.”

David and Mary Margaret both stare at her with something terrible in their eyes. Emma pretends she does not see it.

“He found out she’d been cheating. Again,” she lies. It’s easier this way.

Emma doesn’t tell them that Killian didn’t tell her about the breakup, and she just learnt about it from the mouth of Killian’s superior, doesn’t tell them they have hardly spoken since she started dating Neal again, and especially doesn’t tell them that Neal proposed three months ago and she sent Killian a text to which he never replied.

Nope. That’s a cross for her to bear.

.

He moves. Emma’s eyes shoot open. He moved . It wasn’t really perceptible, but she felt it, the small clench of his fingers around hers.

Emma sits up straight. She thinks he is frowning. This is good. This is good. He is waking up.

“Come on, Killian. You can do this. Push through this.”

And finally, finally , his eyelids flutter, flutter, until blue emerges and his eyes go wide. She smiles, and it’s the most genuine smile she’s had in months.

“Ems’,” he begins, a hoarse whisper. His throat must be dry.

She presses her fingers softly, swiftly, against his dry lips. “Shush, Killian, it’s going to be okay.”

She rushes to the small sink in his bedroom. A plastic cup was left there, and she fills it with water, before tenderly pushing it against Killian’s lips.

He closes his eyes, drinks slowly as her other hand cups the back of his head.

And then the cup is put down with her bravery, and she grabs his fingers. She sees the waves of terror in his eyes, the waves exhaustion cannot quite hide, and it reminds her of their childhood and she desperately wants to mend him, to soothe his soul, but there is so much to heal and he won’t let her.

She presses a very trembling kiss onto his forehead. She sees him close his eyes into her touch, and her entire being is screaming.

“Feared you wouldn’t come,” he manages to whisper. She watches as he swallows down.

She shakes her head. “Of course I’d come.” A pause. “You absolutely do not have permission to ever scare me like this again.”

He manages to smile, somehow. “You don’t have to worry about me, Swan. I’m a survivor.”

Her chin quivers then, and she hates herself because she should be the strong one. But it is exhausting to remain brave when he seems completely, utterly defeated.

“Fancy that red-leather jacket of yours.”

And he makes her chuckle, the bastard, he is the one lying on a hospital bed and he makes her chuckle.

“Thanks, Killian.” And she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and she sees it. The glint of her ring under the yellow ceiling light. And he sees it too.

And he stares at her ring then, that glints, glints, and a lightning bolt shatters the blue of his gaze and she wants to throw it away so that she will never have to stare at this deep, dark blue sea of sadness.

Instead, she smiles. There is not much else to do but smile.

.

“Neal?”

“Emma, I’m so glad you called. I wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I understand, I really do…”

“Don’t bother apologizing. I just wanted to warn you that I’m going to stay a while with Killian. He needs me.”

“…He needs you? He needs you? What about your job? What about me, Emma?!”

“Graham agreed to this. He owes me so many days off. And I will ask you this once, Neal: quit talking about Killian as if he doesn’t matter, or I swear to god, I will give you back your ring. And there will be no third chance.”

“See? See how you react, Emma? As if I’m the villain in this stupid little story of yours and I am tired of th—”

She hangs up.

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

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[here4theheartbreak]

AO3 Link Here

Relationships: Lee Taemin x Park Jimin, Choi Minho x Kim Taehyung, Choi Minho x Kim Taehyung x Lee Taemin x Park Jimin (V3Min) Rating: Explicit

Genres: angst, smut Tags: smut, angst, fake dating, jealousy, pining, friends with benefits, getting together, bottom Taemin, switch Jimin, top Taehyung, top Minho

Summary: Minho has been in love with his best friend since forever. But Taemin was determined to be unattached... Until suddenly he wasn't. Taehyung spent his entire life pining after happiness with his best friend, only to have it ripped away when Jimin finds someone else. The rational response? Hatch a plan to make their respective crushes jealous. The part where they fell in love with each other, however, wasn't part of the plan. 

Chapter Word Count: ~5.1k

“My father is literally trying to murder me.”

Minho didn’t bother to bite back his grin as soon as he entered the salon. He crossed the room as the handsome hairstylist whined and stomped one foot.

“You know, they say that a haircut is similar to going to a bar,” Minho commented as he took a seat.

“What?”

He lifted his chin to allow the cape to nestle against his throat. “The patrons dump their worries onto the stylist the same as they would a bartender. It’s cheap therapy. The bartender – and stylist – aren’t supposed to do things the other way around.”

Minho met Taemin’s gaze in the mirror, smirking at his pout.

“I’m having a crisis, hyung,” Taemin whined. Minho sighed patiently.

“Fine. Your father is metaphorically trying to murder you – I strongly doubt he’s intending to physically kill his youngest. Why do you think he’s out to get you?”

Taemin’s pout increased, making him look years younger than he actually was.

“He wants to arrange a marriage. Who even does that anymore?”

“Well, I mean quite a few families? It’s not like you have to marry the person he introduces you to.”

Taemin snorted, picking up his comb and spraying Minho’s hair lightly. “He all but threatened to cut me off and kick me out if I didn’t. Which is why I say, he’s out to get me.”

“Who’s the person, do you know?”

“Her name is Park Jisoo.”

“Oh, I know of that family. They’re pretty wealthy.”

“So my father said. I don’t care though. I don’t want to marry anyone, I’m happy how I am and I don’t wanna be tied down. If he’s so keen on me getting hitched, I might as well marry you.”

Minho snorted. “That’s never gonna happen.”

Taemin pouted again. “Why are you laughing?”

“Look, you and I might have fun in bed, but you said it yourself. You don’t want to be tied down. If you married me I’d drive you nuts. And either way, your dad is trying to set you up with a girl because he hates that you’re interested in men at all. Marrying me would set both of our fathers off.”

“It’d be fun to watch their heads explode though, wouldn’t it? Remember the first time your dad caught us kissing in the pool?”

“I thought mine was going to drown us both. I’ve never seen his face get so red. But to be fair… We were kids.”

“We were teenagers. All of our straight friends were already making out with their girlfriends in the broom closets.”

Minho chuckled. “Point made. Maybe she won’t be so bad. Everyone knows you’re a natural charmer, you’ll win her over in no time. You just have to make it clear you have boundaries and the marriage is a professional thing only.”

“That’s not fair to her.”

Minho smiled patiently. He watched Taemin through the mirror as he shaped the cut he knew Minho preferred, his brows furrowed in concentration. He’d known the man since Taemin was born, nearly – they’d grown up side by side in their apartment complex otherwise filled with teens and adults. Though there was an age gap, Minho adored Taemin, more than his same age friends most of the time. When Taemin realized at puberty that he might not be entirely into girls, it was natural for him to come to Minho… And to subsequently experiment with him.

Minho knew he was Taemin’s safety and friend… But not more.

Taemin had a reputation around their city as a bit of a player. People always came and went from his bed, and they had since he was barely legal. Minho was a constant, but the idea of being something more… It was a fantasy. Minho knew that, and resigned himself to what he was given. He loved Taemin in every way possible, and his happiness was what mattered. Minho honestly didn’t believe Taemin would ever find someone to settle down with – he was just too… Lee Taemin. Bouncing from person to person, content with a few nights of fun before moving on. It worked for them. Taemin never tired of Minho.

“So, when do you start shooting for your new role?” Taemin asked, breaking Minho’s inner dialogue.

“Hm? Oh, next week.”

“Do you need to leave Seoul for it?”

Minho grunted an affirmative. “Yeah, a month in Andong.”

“Ooh, it’s pretty there,” Taemin commented. He leaned down, resting his chin on Minho’s shoulder. “Pack me in your suitcase and take me with you.”

Minho beamed, pushing Taemin’s head playfully. “I wish. I don’t know any of the actors. There’s some rookie too, heard he thinks he’s hot shit.”

Taemin wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“I mean, he might be. I got that reputation too when I was new because I was good. I’ll give him a shot, but…” He shrugged the shoulder Taemin wasn’t perched on. “I’ll miss you.”

“Wanna hang out tonight?” Taemin smirked, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Have a little fun?”

Minho chuckled. “Where’s Sehyoon?”

“Ah,” Taemin straightened up, angling his comb back to Minho’s hair. “You know how it is, easy come, easy go.”

“Dumped him, didn’t you?”

“Mutual separation. He wanted more, you know me.”

“He was cute.”

“He’s single.”

Minho snorted. “Not a chance. I’m not even dating you and I’ve got my hands full.”

Taemin smacked the back of Minho’s head with the comb. “I have scissors.”

Minho winced, rubbing the spot. “Such a brat.”

Taemin beamed at that, his entire face lighting up as he did. Minho couldn’t help but smile, his heart doing an all too familiar two step beat against his ribs. He knew he’d never end up with Taemin… But it didn’t stop him from secretly wanting to.

***

Minho bowed politely to Taemin’s father when he opened the door, not bothering to hide his smirk. “Good evening, Sir. Is Taemin in?”

“Not for the likes of you.”

Though Taemin’s father tolerated Minho to some degree, he was no fool about what went on between the two.

“I heard you intend to arrange a meeting for Taemin with the Park girl. She is quite beautiful.”

Taemin’s father straightened a little, scowling. “Her family is powerful. And she has the firm hand the boy needs.”

“Well, he does like a firm hand,” Minho bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the subtle widening of Taemin’s father’s eyes. “I mean… He certainly needs it to keep in line, correct?”

“Hm.”

“He discussed it with me today. He’s quite nervous. Wondered if I could come over before my trip and relax him, get him energized to meet his potential bride to be. That’s why I’m here.’ Minho planted his most sweet smile, letting his head tilt just a bit. “Nothing scandalous.”

Taemin’s father’s eyes narrowed. “Hm… He’s in his room, playing that damned music too loud.” He stepped aside, allowing Minho in. “For a boy his age, he certainly acts like a child. You’re older than him, shouldn’t you be a better influence?”

Minho smiled and bowed as he stepped out of his sneakers. “Ah, you know your son better than anyone, Mr. Lee. He’s as stubborn as a mule. It’s an admirable trait, even if it drives us all a bit insane. It’ll come in handy in business.”

“I suppose you’re right. Go. Go, leave the door open a crack. I know how your kind is.”

Minho nodded and jogged up the stairs, rapping on Taemin’s door before opening it and slipping through. He shut it firmly, kicking Taemin’s makeshift doorstop under it to effectively lock it.

Taemin was stretched out on his bed in a pair of shredded jeans, showing more skin than they were covering. He was flipping through a magazine, and glanced up when Minho entered.

“You came.”

“Not yet, but I intend to.”

Taemin smirked, sitting up and tossing the magazine aside. “Well come on then.” He leaned back on his hands, shifting to show off the curve of his body. Minho sighed deeply, letting his gaze roam over Taemin. He stripped off his hoodie and t-shirt, crawling up Taemin’s legs.

“You’re a tease,” he scolded without venom when their noses brushed. Taemin smirked.

“It’s only teasing if I don’t come through with it.” He slid his palm down Minho’s chest, cupping his crotch and giving a playful squeeze that had Minho’s eyelids fluttering. “And you know I always come through.”

“Oh, I do.” Minho brushed his lips over Taemin’s neck. “How are you feeling it today?”

Taemin laid back, looking up at Minho. “Hm. Not too rough… But don’t go easy on me either.”

“Deal… Do you still have my bag?”

Taemin nodded, then jutted his chin toward his closet. “Floor, left side… What do you need from it?” His lips curved up into a smirk.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Minho winked and wiggled off the bed, heading over to the closet. He dug around a bit before rising, turning back to the bed.

Taemin’s grin was irrationally bright given the handful of items Minho had. He held a heavy black rope and a bottle of lube, as well as a thin strip of flat wood like an unmarked ruler, and a sturdy rubber ring. He crawled back onto the bed, placing all the items but the rope onto the stand.

“Arms up.”

Taemin obeyed, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. He wet his lips, glancing up as Minho tied his arms together with the rope, then wound it through the rungs of the bedframe.

“I love when you’re like this,” Taemin whispered, nudging Minho’s arm with his cheek.

“Like what?”

“Bossy. Firm.”

“You need it,” Minho said, tugging the rope firmly. He grabbed Taemin’s jaw in a firm grip, squeezing just enough to pinch. “You’re a little shit. Always talking back and mouthing off to your elders. You’re lucky I do this instead of beating your ass.”

Taemin smirked. “I suck your cock too good for you to really be mad at any of that.”

Minho leaned forward, brushing his mouth against Taemin’s. “Says you.” He shoved his head back hard enough that Taemin bumped it against the wood frame, grimacing. He grinned broadly when Minho scooted down, tugging his belt off. He twisted his hips, helping Minho as much as he could to pull of his jeans. Minho swore.

“You know, if these weren’t so skintight…”

“Everyone would be disappointed,” Taemin snarked.

“I’d probably already be playing with your dick,” Minho said, finally yanking the denim down his slender legs. He tossed it off the bed and grabbed the base of Taemin’s foot firmly, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t—” Taemin warned, his own eyes widening. Minho scraped his nail along the arch of Taemin’s foot, chuckling when he squeaked and began to writhe.

“Don’t,” he whined.

“You gonna be good? Or keep being a little brat?” Minho tickled him again.

“I’ll be good!” Taemin promised. Minho freed his foot, grabbed his boxers instead and yanking them off.

He pushed his legs open, sliding his hands over the smooth skin of his thighs. “You’re so ridiculously beautiful.”

“You don’t need to flirt,” Taemin said with a bright laugh, “I’ve been giving you my ass since we were teenagers.”

Minho smiled, but the words cut more deeply than Taemin would ever realize. It may have been true; they’d taken one another’s virginities, but Minho wished beyond all else that one day his praises and compliments and teasing suggestions would be seen as more… As a viable option for Taemin. But it just wasn’t in the cards. So he hid the hurt behind grins and playful flirtations, opting instead to be everything Taemin wanted.

He pushed his legs open a little further, the glint of something metallic catching his eye.

“Oh—”

“Found my surprise.” Taemin twisted his hips, spreading his legs wide to reveal a sturdy silver anal plug nestled in his ass. “I got myself ready for you.  I know how worked up we get… Thought this could make it… Kinda fun.”

“You… You are perfect,” Minho whispered. He moved up, grabbing the thin wooden paddle. He smacked it on his own hand, ignoring the tickling sting in favor of watching the way Taemin’s eyes dilated, his lips parting. Almost tickle soft, he brushed the edge of the paddle along the curve of Taemin’s muscle, watching it tense and relax. The first time he’d discovered Taemin had this kink it had been an accident. They’d been making out and Taemin, per his usual teasing attitude, had risen to walk off, earning a sharp swat on his bare ass. Their relationship escalated naturally afterward, each learning the other’s secret kinks and preferences. Despite the number of people Taemin slept with, Minho was the only one he relaxed like this with.

The first crack of the wood on his thigh landed on a quiet beat of the music. Taemin’s moan broke into a giggle. “Shh… My Dad’s gonna hear.”

“He can’t get in,” Minho said simply, smacking the other side just as hard. Taemin gasped, moaning softly. Minho alternated his smacks between the inner thighs and outer thighs, pausing every few strikes to massage the welted skin. He let a blow land lightly on Taemin’s stomach, just a few centimeter’s away from his cock, just enough to startle.

Taemin whined, his hips twitching up.

“Ohh… You liked that,” Minho said simply, a teasing lit in his tone. Taemin nodded, his eyes fluttering open.

“Again.”

“You don’t to be the boss,” Minho warned. He swatted Taemin’s exposed forearm with some force, watching the smooth skin redden and welt. “Try that again. Politely.”

Taemin bared his teeth, eyes narrowing. “Hit me again.”

Minho swatted his other forearm, giving it a matching welt.

“Somewhere else,” Taemin growled. Minho dropped the paddle and slapped Taemin across the cheek. He gasped, blinking tears from his eyes. Minho smirked, grabbing his chin again and yanking him forward as much as his bound arms would allow. He crawled up, going almost nose to nose with him.

“Don’t. Be. A. Brat.”

“Why not?” Taemin breathed. “You fucking love it. I can see how hard your cock is already.” He jerked his hips up, emphasizing his point. Minho squeezed harder.

“I’ll only fuck you if you be a good boy for me, Taemin. Can you do that?”

“That’s no fun. Plus… You wanna come too.”

“There are other ways to come.” He slid his thumb over Taemin’s plush bottom lip, pushing it into his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. “I do have the gag.”

Taemin’s eyes fluttered for a moment, and Minho knew he was affecting him.

“Would you like me to get that, baby?” He threatened, his tone measured and even. “Fuck your pretty mouth and not let you come for me?”

Taemin shook his head as well as he could with Minho’s firm grip. “I’ll try to be good.”

“Good boy.” Minho let go of his face and kissed him hard.

He pulled back and grabbed the rubber ring, reaching down to stroke Taemin’s cock a few times. “Remember… You don’t come until I say you can, brat.”

Taemin hissed as Minho slid the ring on, settling it against the base of his cock. He reached lower and grabbed the plug, tugging it. It caught for a moment then slid out, a dribble of lube following.

Minho swore under his breath, sliding two fingers into Taemin. He wiggled.

“Don’t, please, hyung.” He blinked down at him, smiling as politely as he could likely manage. “I’m stretched. I want you just to put it in.”

“You sure? You still seem so tight…”

Taemin snorted. “You know I can take it. Just fuck my ass. Fill me up. I know you want to.” He purred, spreading his legs further. He lifted them with a practiced ease, the muscles in his thighs twitching as he pressed his knees against his chest, his breathing coming in strained pants. The motion gave Minho a perfect view of his ass, wet with lube, the smallest gape when he flexed.

Minho slid his hands up the backs of Taemin’s thighs, feeling the musculature under his palms. Despite his relatively stagnant job as stylist, Taemin had the body of a dancer. He was slender and flexible, head to toe lean muscle and stamina to boot.

“Get my dick wet first,” Minho finally said. He pushed Taemin’s legs back down and rose, stripping out of his jeans and boxers. He stroked his own cock lazily, gaze roaming over Taemin’s bound form.

Taemin peeked through his shaggy bangs, lips parted and wet. He squeezed his thighs together repeatedly, obviously seeking any stimulation he could manage.

“Beg,” Minho growled.

“Please,” Taemin whispered, clearly more eager to please and get his reward than play stubborn. “Come fuck my ass, hyung. You have to go without it for a whole month. Come take what you need, fill me up and make me ache when I sit down. Please, I need it… No one screws me like you do,” he whined, spreading his legs open.

Minho crawled back onto the bed, straddling his chest and fisting his hair.

“Look at me.”

Taemin rolled his eyes up, wetting his lips. “Gonna make me choke on it, sir?”

There was the attitude. Minho smirked. “You know it.” He slid his tip over Taemin’s bottom lip.

“Get it nice and wet for your ass.” He pushed his cock in and slid his hips forward until the tip bumped against the back of Taemin’s throat. His shoulders jerked and Minho groaned, tightening his grip on his hair. Starting off slow but persistent, Minho pumped his hips, driving his cock as deep as it would go. He pulled Taemin forward, grunting softly when his throat began to relax, giving into the intrusion. Taemin gagged around him, coughing up spit and precome as Minho worked his cock into his throat.

“There you go, Tae… Swallow it down, baby. Work on that gag reflex,” Minho praised, holding Taemin’s chin with his free hand. Taemin looked up, tears filling his dark eyes. One slid down his cheek, accompanied with a hard gag, that had Minho’s eyes rolling back as his throat squeezed around his tip.

“Fuck… The way I wanna fill your mouth,” he panted. Taemin began to struggle, his hands in fists. Minho pulled back immediately and loosened his grip, searching his face for distress. Taemin coughed, dragging in much needed air.

“Please, not today,” he rasped. “My ass.”

Minho smirked, wiping spit from his chin. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll come up your ass. That mouth is just a damn big temptation.”

Taemin grinned broadly. “When you come back from filming you can come down my throat, okay?”

“Deal.” He kissed him gently, brushing his hair down from where he’d mussed it pulling. He settled between Taemin’s thighs, pushing his knees up to his chest again. “Relax.”

Taemin nodded, letting his eyes slip shut. Minho added lube to his spit slicked cock and lined up, taking only a moment before pushing past Taemin’s tight rim. They both moaned. Taemin’s head fell back onto the pillow, a small, contented smile crossing his face.

Minho braced himself on either side of Taemin’s chest and began to thrust, slow and steady to begin. Taemin was unbearably tight, his hole clenching and releasing in a pulse-like rhythm as his body adjusted to the intrusion.

Minho grabbed the paddle again, sliding the edge over Taemin’s cock.

Taemin whined, biting his bottom lip. Minho swatted his tip as gently as he could. Taemin bucked upward, nearly forcing Minho’s cock out. He let his legs fall over Minho’s shoulders, a high whimper slipping from his lips. Minho swatted his cock lightly again, this time driving as deeply as he could.

Taemin cried out, his body tensing. “Stop teasing me,” he snarled, his teeth bared.

“What was that?” Minho asked. He pulled his cock free, ignoring Taemin’s strained plea. Instead, he smacked the thin paddle lightly over Taemin’s gaped hole three times before driving two fingers in, thrusting them aggressively.

“I asked you a question, brat.”

Taemin moaned brokenly, his cock twitching against his heaving stomach. “Fuck me, please— Put it back in!”

“Not until you behave. I warned you.” Minho brought the paddle down on the exposed meat of his ass, grunting when Taemin’s ass clamped down on his fingers. “You don’t control this situation, Taemin. Do you?”

Taemin bit his lap, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth up. “Since you’re using my ass... Don’t I?” He asked. Minho cocked a brow.

“If you wanna be that way.” Minho pushed Taemin’s legs off his shoulders, kneeling between them to keep them spread open. He swatted Taemin’s hole and ass four times in quick succession before placing the paddle aside. He poured lube into his hand and made a fist around his cock before beginning to thrust his hips forward, squeezing and relaxing his fist rhythmically as he did. The wet squelch of the lube and Minho’s grunts punctuated the soft points of the music.

“You sure I need your body?” Minho grunted out. Taemin was squirming on the bed, his hole flexing as he tended and relaxed, clearly needing more. He wet his lips, eyes not leaving Minho’s cock.

“Or do you maybe need my cock up your tight ass to come, hm?”

Taemin chewed his bottom lip. His cock twitched at Minho’s words. “It won’t be as good... Your hand is nothing compared to my hole and you know it.”

“Maybe,” Minho grunted, shivering as he squeezed his tip. “But I’ll still be able to come and be satisfied. Will you?”

Taemin squirmed again. He remained silent, watching Minho masturbate in front of him for a few moments.

“I need it,” Taemin finally whispered.

“Oh? What was that?”

Taemin swallowed thickly. “I need your cock to feel good... Please, Hyung.”

“Ah, I thought so.” Minho stopped jerking off, grabbing the paddle and swatting Taemin’s thigh. “I’m waiting for those special words though.”

“Please!” Taemin hissed.

“No, the other ones.”

Taemin rolled his eyes. Minho swatted his thigh hard with his bare hand, smirking when he whimpered. “Aw, and here I thought you wanted my cock.” He leaned back, fisting his cock again.

“I’m sorry!” Taemin cried. “I— I’m sorry, sir. Please— Use my ass.”

Minho nodded. “There we go.” He knew Taemin was far from sorry; this was just the game they played. He had nothing to be sorry for, but it was damn sexy to watch him plead.

Minho rammed his cock back in, moaning when Taemin clenched around him and bucked off the bed. He grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed before smacking hard three times. Taemin’s ass clenched almost painfully tight, ripping a cry from Minho’s mouth.

He began to fuck into him hard and fast, smacking his ass every few thrusts for that perfect squeeze around his cock.

Taemin writhed under him, his hips twisting to help with the thrusts, head thrown back as soft cries of pleasure-pain fell from his bite swollen lips. He was the most beautiful person Minho had ever seen. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Taemin’s parted lips.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he panted.

“Thick—“ Taemin whined, the muscles in his arms bulging as he struggled against the ropes. “So big, it almost hurts... Fuck me harder, please—“ he broke off in a moan when Minho shifted angles, driving just a bit deeper.

Minho leaned back, slowly pushing Taemin’s hips up as he fucked into him.

Taemin smirked, open mouthed. “Wanna see?” He panted. Minho nodded. He reached forward and fisted Taemin’s hair, dragging his head forward. As he did, he folded Taemin’s flexible body more inward, still thrusting into his ass. He grabbed Taemin’s cock and pulled the ring off, angling it outward and pushing his body until Taemin was able to place the tip of his own cock into his mouth.

His eyes rolled back as he sucked, moan muffled.

Minho swore, his cock throbbing hard at the sight. He continued to fuck Taemin’s ass, each thrust shifting the cock between his lips.

“You wanna come like this?” Minho panted.

Taemin nodded as well as he could.

“Don’t swallow.”

He began to thrust as hard as he could manage, chasing his own orgasm. Taemin’s eyes rolled back, his moans muffled by the twitching cock between his lips. He clenched around Minho, toes curling as his balls began to throb, cock twitching.

Minho groaned, sliding his thumb over the underside of Taemin’s cock as he spilled into his own mouth. When the throbs slowed and stopped, Minho shifted, letting Taemin’s head go. His cock slipped free and he opened his mouth, showing Minho the thick, milky fluid within. Minho groaned. He let Taemin’s legs fall and leaned forward, kissing him hard.

Taemin wrapped his legs around Minho’s hips, moaning as their tongues slid together, sharing his come.

Minho’s stomach clenched, his balls drawing up almost painfully tight. He grunted into Taemin’s mouth, hips losing rhythm as his nerves heightened in sensitivity. Taemin pulled back, his lips glossy with come and spit.

“Fill my ass, hyung... Please,” he whispered, looking up at Minho from half closed eyes.

Minho grunted his name, grabbing Taemin’s hip almost painfully tight as the pressure in his body peaked, a wall of tension that built in his cock and sent shudders through his form. He came, cock throbbing against Taemin’s tight inner walls, his body clenching and releasing each spurt of fluid. He could hear himself grunting and whining, and Taemin speaking softly, though making out the words was an impossible feat.

One final throb and the tension of his body released all at once, the flood of feel good hormones turning every muscle into pudding. He collapsed over Taemin, grinning dumbly.

Taemin shifted, tugging at the ropes binding him. Minho reached up and pulled the release he’d tied into the rope, freeing Taemin before relaxing once more, nuzzling against his soft shoulder.

“Talk to me,” Minho mumbled, pressing kisses to his skin.

“I’m good.”

Minho pulled back, meeting Taemin’s sleepy gaze. “Yeah?”

Taemin nodded. “I promise. No floating.”

Minho nodded. He sat up and stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. This was always the time he hated. For the time they were having sex, the ‘no strings attached’ part of their relationship didn’t matter. He could kiss and cuddle and hold Taemin to his heart’s content. When they went far enough, and Taemin hit that floaty, feel good feeling as he described it, it gave Minho an out. Free reign to take care of Taemin like he wanted to all the time, bring him back to earth slowly. When he didn’t reach that point… Minho was just another quick fuck. The only difference was that Taemin didn’t kick him out of his house when he was done. Minho wasn’t sure that would be worse.

He pulled on his jeans, passing Taemin his jeans and boxers before rising to put away their toys.

“Why is this door shut?!” The door shook in its frame as Taemin’s father rapped on it.

Minho pulled a face, showing his teeth before chuckling. He slid the closet shut and ran fingers through his hair before nudging the stopper out of the way and opening it, smiling sheepishly and bowing.

“Sorry, Sir.”

“I told you to keep that door open,” He snapped. “Why is your shirt off? I swear—"

“It’s just so hot,” Minho whined as well as he could, fanning his hand in front of his face. “We shut the door to try and keep the cool air from the window in the room.” He shifted to show Taemin on the bed, his jeans perfectly in place, shirt missing still. “Could we have permission to turn the AC up a little?”

Taemin’s father’s eyes narrowed. Minho knew he could likely smell the sex from the room. He kept the innocent smile planted on his face nonetheless even as Taemin’s father’s eyes searched the room for any physical sign of their coitus.

“I will turn up the air conditioning. Keep the door open, it allows for better airflow… And put on a damn shirt.”

Minho bowed his head politely, stepping further into the room and grabbing his shirt from the floor. Taemin’s father scanned the room once more, his lips disappearing into an annoyed line before he stalked off.

Minho sat on the bed, pulling his shirt on. “You have got to get a place of your own, Tae.”

“I like living rent free,” Taemin whined. “I can save my money for stuff I want.”

“I know, and I get it – I hated moving out of my parents… But your dad is so pushy.”

Taemin shrugged. He sat up and moved to where Minho was sitting, putting his head on his shoulder.

“I won’t have to worry about it in a few weeks. I’ll be getting hitched.” The sarcasm was obvious in his tone.

“You don’t have to say yes, Tae. You should follow your heart.”

Taemin snorted. “It’s easier. I’ll just do what you said, let her know I’m not gonna be some good husband. I’ll go through the motions, be married, but she has to accept that she won’t be my only person. I don’t do love.”

Minho sighed. “Maybe you will. What if she ends up being perfect for you?”

“I doubt it. You know I’m up for anything but I’ve always leaned toward guys. If I end up with anyone long term I think it’ll be someone male identifying.”

“Never know.” Minho nudged him playfully. “Just go to the date with an open mind, okay?”

“Okay.” Taemin sighed, flopping back onto the bed. “He’s sending me to her next Friday.”

“End of the same week I leave. You’ll have to text me with how it went. Or Facetime me in the evening.”

“I will. I’m sure I’ll need your support,” Taemin said through a laugh. “Wanna play a game? We can order something for food.”

Minho nodded. “Always. You order, I’ll set it up.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they played rounds of the game, spending the next few hours with one another. It was always this way, as long as Minho could remember. He loved it, and wouldn’t dare ruin it by asking for more. Even if, sometimes, in his dreams, he wished.

#thebtswritersclub #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #bangtanidx #boymeetsmxm #networkbangtan #shinee x bts #bts x shinee #bts smut #shinee smut #minho x taemin #taemin x minho #jimin x taemin #taemin x jimin #taehyung x minho #minho x taehyung #taehyung x jimin #jimin x taehyung #vmin #2min #v3min #jimin x minho x taehyung x taemin #mywriting

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (19) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: hi pals! so this was probs one of my top 3 fav chapters to write out of the whole fic. it’s got so many things that i just love, and i so hope u will love it too. i should probs make it clear that this isn’t the end of the fic! it’s going to have 21 chapters, so there’s two more to come after this (omg only 2????? bitch wtf???? WTF???). thank u guys for all the love my ask box gets flooded with after every chapter, i’m always so so excited when i see it so thank u so much, i really appreciate it!! here we go with n19f19 xoxo

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: there were confessions of love in a karaoke bar.

this chapter: a month on from the events of last chapter and with final exams and dissertations looming, Brooke thinks she can avoid Vanessa until graduation without having to confront anything that’s happened between them. this proves difficult when she’s trapped in the library with her.

***

Brooke was fine. She was more than fine, actually, she was good. She was calm, serene, fucking zen. If it wasn’t for the dissertation she had to hand in a week from now she would have ascended to Buddha-like status, doling out study tips to her friends like proverbs.

Brooke had always been good at exams. She’d been a straight-A student back in Canada, the whole process of revision coming naturally to her. She’d bought designated ringbinders for every subject, poring over textbooks and copying information out in messy cursive until she’d filled her whole refill pad. When she’d walked into the big assembly hall on exam day, she didn’t get the usual churning of her stomach or shaky hands that her friends had always described. It was almost as if the hall reminded her of taking ballet exams when she was a girl- she knew what to do, she had all the information in her head somewhere, and all that was required of her was to think and write.

Essays, however, had never come easy, which was a shame as they essentially formed the basis of Brooke’s degree. There wasn’t the fast-paced element to essays as there were to exams, and lengthy deadlines gave Brooke time to overthink, redraft, panic, delete, then do the whole process over again. She’d never fully got the hang of them; add in the fact a different tutor marked what she’d written every time and her grades were practically a lottery. She knew this element would follow her throughout her career- writing, fashion design, God even her ballet exams from years ago- it was all a form of art, and art was subjective. She knew there were designers out there that were universally respected, but none were universally liked. Nothing was universally liked. In an exam, there was a set of right or wrong answers, but essays were open to interpretation. An interpretation that her degree classification depended on.

Stretching and feeling her spine bump against the hard plastic chair, Brooke let out a huge breath. She could still see her Mum’s face if she remembered hard enough, when she’d told her her very first mark on her very first uni assignment back in first year; the way the woman’s face had faltered a little but forced a smile and a congratulations. It was the first mark below 70% Brooke could remember in a long time, and her Mum’s disappointment still stung. Brooke was currently sitting on a 2:1, but only just. Her dissertation was going to cement what degree she received and Christ, Brooke would be lying if she said the pressure wasn’t getting to her ever so slightly. It was at the stage where she was taking a beta blocker each morning before spending most of the day in the library. Sometimes she’d take another in the afternoon if she felt herself starting to panic. Maybe that was the reason she was so chill.

Looking at her laptop and the block of black text against white digital paper, she rubbed her eyes and glanced through the huge floor-to-ceiling pane of glass to her left. Her own sleepy face gazed back at her, the view rendered invisible due to the pitch black outside. Brooke didn’t dare look at the time, but she knew it had to be late if it was this dark at the end of April. Casting her eyes to Nina, she couldn’t help but give a snort of a laugh.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brooke asked, looking at the exploded rainbow of colour-coded flash cards that were strewn across the girl’s desk and spilling out onto the floor. There were scribbly neon post-it notes stuck all over her laptop screen and Nina probably had half the library stacked up in high-rise tower blocks on her desk. A quick glance at her screen showed Brooke that Nina had roughly sixty tabs open.

“My goddamn best.”

Brooke let out another laugh as Nina gestured helplessly at the mess in front of her. “Jesus Christ, Brooke, how the hell am I going to be a teacher if I’m this disorganised?”

Brooke gave a little shrug and raised her eyebrows. “I dread to think what your classroom desk is going to be like.”

“Probably going to accidentally kill a child on my first day. Nudge over a big pile of papers on my desk, boof. Dead,” Nina giggled, then let out a huge laugh and instantly clamped her hands over her mouth in embarrassment. The action made Brooke laugh out loud too until the pair were having a silent laughing fit in the exact place they weren’t supposed to be making any noise.

To be fair, the top floor was pretty empty given the late hour they were there. The few people that were left were already packing up their things and leaving, laptops shut in a manner of resignation. The yellow strobe lights that hung above gave the whole place a clinical glow, and the patterns on the fuzzy green carpet all seemed to merge into one. As Brooke ran a hand through her hair and was about to check the time on her phone, loud chimes rang out over the speakers built into the ceiling.

“Would all students please be aware that the library will be closing in ten minutes, that’s ten minutes. Thank you.”

Brooke almost jumped out of her skin. She blinked, then looked at the four numbers in the bottom right-hand corner of her screen. “Nina. No way is it almost midnight.”

“God. I’m not even surprised anymore. At this point it feels like we live here,” Nina groaned, cracking her back in a way that made Brooke wince then rolling her shoulders. “I guess we should head back to the flat.”

Brooke’s ears pricked as she heard a commotion from the other end of the floor. It sounded like a thunder of footsteps and a hissed argument. Turning slowly, Brooke’s heart sank as she saw exactly who she’d hoped she’d be able to avoid until graduation day.

Silky and Vanessa were standing at the printer a mere two sets of desks away from her and Nina. Silky seemed to be printing something out and insisting she wouldn’t be long as Vanessa tapped her heel against the carpeted floor impatiently, her Converse almost wearing a hole in the floor. Despite the late hour her makeup was still perfectly applied, and her hair was half hanging loose over her shoulders and half swept up into a haphazard topknot. Brooke pictured Vanessa growing frustrated at her desk, fretting over some form of past paper and tearing her hands through her hair, tugging her brown locks up and securing them with a hair tie. Brooke hoped she wasn’t too stressed about her finals. She remembered that when they were together Vanessa had had some form of big essay due, and she’d sat up in bed exhaling and worrying, typing furiously with her long nails crashing against the keyboard of her laptop like angry waves. Brooke had quietly brought her tea, wordlessly pressed a kiss to her temple, and Vanessa had cast her a soft smile that had made Brooke’s heart set alight.

Just then Silky looked across the room, saw her, and began to wave. Fuck. Brooke watched as Vanessa cast her gaze over to where she sat. Her eyes widened when she laid them on Brooke and she tilted her head to the sky, barely hiding a gigantic roll of her eyes as she followed Silky over to Brooke and Nina. Brooke had in the time it took for the girls to reach their desk to decide how she wanted to play this. It was a tough decision. Because in the month-and-a-bit since their dalliance in the hot tub, and an even shorter time since her crying meltdown to Scarlet in the Swan toilets, Brooke had developed a hard, harsh exoskeleton for herself that involved channeling all the love and regret she felt for Vanessa into venom, poison and dislike. If Vanessa wanted to be petty and unkind and rude to her, then fuck it. Brooke would be the exact same back. She’d tried it out already- responding to thinly-veiled barbs in the groupchat, ignoring her if they saw each other. Brooke didn’t want to act that way, didn’t want to do any of it, but she forced herself to do it in the way a small child had to be forced to eat vegetables; it was what was good for her. Good for them both. It was better that Vanessa hated her. She’d tried loving her and look where the fuck that had ended up.

The issue was, the frosty behaviour she’d return to Vanessa was uncontrollable. She knew it was causing vibes and tension in the group, splitting them all up and causing cracks and fractures in a time where they were meant to be closer than ever. Yvie had had words with her, as had Nina. It hadn’t got them anywhere. Brooke had tried to reach out to Vanessa, offered her so many olive branches that Vanessa had just started beating Brooke black and blue with them. Brooke knew it was for the best if she acted like the complete bitch that Vanessa thought she was.

“Hey, sisters! What you both doin’ here so late?” Silky asked cheerfully as she reached the girls. Brooke stuck a smile on her face, tried not to look at Vanessa and then failed. Her thick eyelashes were cast to the floor as she scuffed the carpet with her shoe. Brooke felt a stab at her heart. Luckily, Nina took over.

“Christ, I was just saying to Brooke it feels like we’ve moved in here. My diss is due on Friday and I’m stressed out of my mind. What’re you guys up to?”

Silky waved a thick stack of paper at Nina as if she was showing her evidence. “We were down on floor one but the janitor’s chucking people out. I needed some readings and figured he’d get up here last, so I just came to the top floor to use the printer.”

“Yeah, and we’re done now, so let’s go. I need to pee before we leave,” Vanessa muttered to her flatmate, her voice dull as she still didn’t tear her gaze from the floor.

Nina’s cheerful smile faltered. Silky, to her credit, looked embarrassed by Vanessa’s sulky behaviour. To Brooke’s dismay, Nina shoved all of her index cards onto her laptop keyboard and slammed it closed. “Well, hey! We were just leaving. We’ll come with you.”

Vanessa’s face twisted into one of discomfort. “Nah, Nina, really, it’s fine. I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway-”

“We can wait for you! It’s no big deal!”

Brooke’s heart sank. Great. An excruciating walk back outside with the girl that hated her most in the world. Just as she was about to bullshit a reason why they couldn’t, Silky enthusiastically agreed. Brooke watched Vanessa bite her lip in frustration, give a forced fake smile and nod. They were both united in the fact that it was a situation neither of them wanted to be in. It was the closest Brooke had felt to Vanessa in a while.

Nina and Silky filled the silence on their way to the library toilets. They were only beside the lifts so not that far away, but every step felt as if it lasted a million years. Finally, mercifully, the girls came to the toilets and Vanessa ducked inside. As they waited, Brooke just wished and hoped she’d be quick so the awkward situation would be over sooner rather than later. One minute turned into two, and Silky became impatient. Brooke watched as she wrenched open the door and yelled inside.

“VANJ, C’MON! THE PLACE IS CLOSING SOON!” she shouted into the room, muttering under her breath something about Vanessa having a bladder like the Hindenburg. Brooke tried to be patient and cast her eyes up to the ceiling. Looking back into the floor of the library, she was alarmed to find it completely empty, void of people. It could have been that she was startled, but she gave a shout into the bathroom too.

“Vanjie, hurry up! Jesus!”

At this point Vanessa was standing blasting her hands with air from the dryer. She shouted something back at Brooke that Brooke couldn’t hear over the air jets, but she could hazard a guess as to what it was. Finally, Vanessa stormed out.

“Fuck me, will you girls hop off my dick? Can I not pee in peace without you rushing me along? We’ve got ages! It’s fine!”

And then everything was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Brooke gave an involuntary cry of fear, felt someone grab her hand. Looking down at her interlocked fingers and then up to who it was connected to, she was shocked to see Vanessa, her face illuminated in the green fire escape sign and completely petrified. All at once she seemed to realise what she’d done and dropped Brooke’s hand like it was made of hot metal. Nina had fallen silent, her expression one of shock, and Silky was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Fuck,” Brooke found herself saying. Her mouth had gone completely dry.

“It’s fine. It’s fine, they’ll just be turning off the lights before they lock up. Let’s just hurry up and get the lift,” Silky reassured them, but Brooke didn’t miss the worried frown that was set on her face as the four of them walked quickly. Vanessa reached the button first, scrabbled at it with her fingers. The little white light that usually illuminated the panel didn’t turn on.

“Oh my God this can’t be happening,” Nina whispered, her voice panicked and fast. Silky rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but the frown on her face was deepening. Reaching out, she pressed the same button firmly, jamming it into its little metal pad. Nothing. The girls stood in silence for only a few seconds, listening for the metal whirrs and clunks that the lift usually made on its way up or down the building. Nothing came.

“Stairs,” Vanessa said simply, her voice full of worry as she suddenly dashed in the direction of the stairwell. The three other girls followed and all pretence of remaining calm and walking was truly out the window as their trainers squeaked over the linoleum, feet thumping harshly against the steps as they tore down flight after flight. Brooke’s pulse was speeding so fast she thought she would have a heart attack, and the bones of her feet began to hurt more with every step she launched herself down two-at-a-time. Breathless and frantic, they finally reached the bottom floor, Vanessa crashing through the double doors at the bottom of the stairwell and speeding across the lobby to the main entrance. Brooke was hot on her heels, her heart now painful in her chest and her breath coming in thick, uncomfortable wheezes. Any hope she’d had sank to the floor with her gut as Vanessa pounded the automatic doors and almost wrenched the fire door off its hinges in an attempt to get out. It was to no avail.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Nina repeated, her hands flying to her face as it blanched in fear.

“Fucking shit- HELLO? HELLO? WE’RE STILL IN HERE!” Silky yelled at the top of her lungs to nobody in particular.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” Brooke said, hearing the shake in her own voice as her eyes darted around the huge, dark building frantically.

“No shit, really? I’m having a fuckin’ whale of a time, personally,” Vanessa hissed, casting a glare her way before going back to shaking the doorhandles in a futile attempt to open them. Brooke felt her face curl up in a sneer, all the fear she’d felt previously moved into a convenient little box and replaced with all-consuming anger.

“Ugh, JESUS, Vanessa, of course, of fucking course, we’re literally locked in a uni building with no way out and you choose to start picking a fight with me. Big fucking-”

“ENOUGH!” Nina shouted, Brooke taken aback. She had known Nina for almost three years now, and in that time she’d never heard her shout. Well, she’d heard her shout with happiness or joy or fear, but never anger like this. She felt like one of her primary school kids as Nina continued. “Both of you just shut the fuck up for one fucking minute! Can we at least just find a way out of here before you start a fucking domestic?”

“I’ll take the cafe,” Silky said decisively, shouting to the others as she ran in the opposite direction. “Nina go right, Brooke and Vanjie go left.”

Brooke narrowed her eyes, looking again at Vanessa whose gaze mirrored Brooke’s. Relenting and not wanting to risk another telling-off from Nina, Brooke obediently tore off in the direction Silky had told her to go. She weaved her way through desks and bookshelves, checking every window only to find them all locked. As she was losing hope, the dull, green light of a fire escape sign caught her eye. Brooke sighed with relief as she tore towards it. This was surely a guaranteed way out. Reaching the tall door, Brooke slammed her hands on the cold, metal bar that lay across it, pushed down, and waited for the cold night air to hit her face and calm down her panic.

Nothing.

Brooke frowned, trying again and pushing harder at the bar. This time she got her shoulder involved, leaning all her weight against it. It didn’t so much as budge.

“We’re outta luck. They’re all locked from the outside.”

Brooke turned to see Vanessa walking purposefully towards her. Her tone was frustrated, but not towards her at least. Brooke felt relieved. She was beginning to regret snapping at Vanessa earlier, even if she was meant to dislike her. She wondered if she felt as scared as she did. Brooke thought about how Vanessa always hid her fear, remembered the time they watched some shit, gory horror movie at hers when they were together. Brooke had flinched and squealed and buried her face in Vanessa’s hoodie every two seconds while Vanessa had laughed at her, told her it was all fine and fake, but Brooke could feel Vanessa’s heart beat fast in her chest and her stomach muscles tensing every time a new horrific sight appeared on screen.

Vanessa leant against the bar that Brooke had tried, punctuating it with an angry kick of her foot. “That shit’s illegal, you know. Locking a fire door. We could sue fuck outta them.”

Brooke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Yeah I’m sure we, twentysomething students with collectively hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of debt, have both the resources and the influence to sue the university. They’d shit themselves.”

She watched as Vanessa looked at her, a glare about to appear in her dark eyes, then disappearing as she allowed herself a small smile and a single snort of laughter. There was a pause of silence. Brooke decided to fill it. “Let’s find the girls, maybe they found a way out.”

As they passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows again, Vanessa suddenly gasped and tore off to bang on the glass. Brooke followed her eyeline and was overjoyed to find what looked to be a janitor, finishing up and walking away from the building. She joined Vanessa and pounded her fists against the window, shouting randomly if only just to make a noise. Her hope began to die, however, when instead of noticing the absolute cacophony of noise the girls created, the man simply got further and further away. Brooke watched as he got his phone out, a long earphone cord attached to it. She slumped against the glass and let out a helpless moan.

“Fucking shit bitch ass motherfucker!” Vanessa hissed in anger, pounding on the glass with her knuckles one last time. Brooke watched as she took a step back from the window, flexed her fingers and gave a hiss.

“You okay?” Brooke found herself asking. She could already feel herself frowning in concern as Vanessa nodded briskly, shaking her hand out and sticking the knuckle of one finger in her mouth.

“Fine. Just got a lil’ over-enthusiastic, cut my finger,” she spoke around her knuckle. Brooke felt a pang at her heart. She took a step towards Vanessa.

“Let’s see?”

Vanessa gave another laugh, harsher and more sardonic than her first had been. “It’s fine, Brooke, I don’t need you to kiss it better.”

Brooke held her hands up, unable to help the way her eyebrows flew up her face. “Okay, I’ll just go fuck myself!“

“Yeah, do that,” Vanessa muttered quietly, sitting on a desk beside the window and pulling her legs up to cross them. Brooke, in lieu of snapping back at the girl she’d once called her friend but had never called her girlfriend, did the same. They sat in a hostile silence, thoughts running around Brooke’s mind as to what she could do or say. So many options flooded her head that it was hard to see any of them clearly for what they were. It turned out she didn’t need to give any of them that much thought, however, as Nina and Silky soon appeared from the other end of the building.

“Oh, good! You’ve not killed each other,” Nina said brightly upon her return. Brooke snuck a quick look at Vanessa, then rolled her eyes.

“Guess you’re as shit out of luck as we are?” Silky asked, her voice quieter than usual by at least a few dozen decibels.

“Can you believe they locked the fire doors? Fuck them, man, imagine there was a real fire?” Vanessa spat bitterly. Nina sighed heavily and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“We could try calling someone?”

Brooke frowned. “Who could we call?”

“The police?” Nina said immediately, her naivety causing the others to burst out laughing.

“And say what?! Hey listen, we know you’ve got murderers to catch but we’re locked in a uni building, could you bring round a big battering ram and knock the door down?” Brooke laughed, not missing the way Vanessa laughed in response and feeling a twinkle of pride light up in her heart.

“Well, could the fire brigade get us out?” Nina suggested, Silky groaning and pulling her hands down her face.

“Nina, you need to lower your expectations of what an emergency is. Four dumb uni students trapped in the library is not gonna be considered an emergency. We’re not in danger, we’re all breathing, and none of us have been set alight. That counts the big three out immediately.”

“What about a locksmith?” Vanessa shrugged. Brooke screwed up her face.

“Ah, for those locks that automatic doors have on them,” Silky deadpanned. Brooke laughed at the comment, clearly a little too loudly because Vanessa was back scowling at her again.

“Hey, they do so have locks, bitch.”

“I don’t think you can ask a locksmith to open a house that isn’t yours,” Nina frowned. Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

“I love my house, the university library.”

“Shut up! You knew what I meant,” Nina protested, as the other girls gave a laugh again.

“Surely there’ll be some phone number online for the janitor or something?” Brooke thought suddenly, Silky quickly taking out her phone to check. There was a moment of silence as the girls held their breath in hope. Finally, Silky let out an overjoyed cry.

“Cleaning supervisor main area- based in central library! Yes ladies! We’re fucking outta here!”

Brooke smiled so hard that her face hurt as Silky held her phone to her ear. Thank God. The nightmare was over, she could go back to her flat and not be literally trapped in a building with her ex. She would soon be-

The four girls jumped as a faint ringing of a phone could be heard from out in the lobby. For the hundredth time that night, Brooke felt her heart sink.

“I don’t really know what we expected from that,” Vanessa sighed, looking every inch the kicked puppy.  

It was quickly decided that their last hope were the girls who weren’t in the library, although this went down the drain fast as it was discovered that Yvie was over at Scarlet’s flat and they were both asleep, neither Akeria nor Monet were picking up, and Plastique had gone home to revise.

“What about Monique, Vanj? Could we try her?” Nina asked. Brooke was confused at the way Vanessa’s face twisted in discomfort, a little line setting deep on her forehead.

“Nah, she, uh…she won’t pick up,” she said simply, Nina nodding quickly and neglecting to ask any more about it. It didn’t stop Brooke from being intrigued.

“What the fuck are we gonna do, then? We can’t just spend the night here,” Silky’s voice was disbelieving. Brooke gave a resigned shrug.

“Silk, I don’t think there’s any alternative. It’s only a few hours, the place’ll open up again at six. We can go upstairs and sleep in those little pods they have for group projects. Then by the time we wake up again, it’ll be morning and we can all go back to the flat,” Brooke explained calmly, although inside she still had a lot of anxiety rattling about and the dark of the library wasn’t helping.

The girls reluctantly agreed that it was probably the only thing that was left for them to do. In nervous silence they climbed the stairs to the first floor, where Silky immediately set up camp in one of the pods, stretching herself out along the seats that had once been cushioned but had been flattened by hundreds and thousands of sets of bums over the years. Nina took one and set her laptop back up again, arguing that she’d actually been on a pretty good streak before she’d had to pack up and wanted to see if she could churn out another thousand words before she went to sleep. Brooke peeled off from the girls and took her own pod, her tall body unable to fully fit along the seats. As she attempted to sleep, one thing kept stopping her as it usually seemed to around this time of day. She sighed, tossed and turned as she thought about Vanessa. It had all gone so badly wrong. The more she tried to get her off her mind, the more memories she was reminded of. Hurting Vanessa was easier than loving her; snapping at her and being snarky made Brooke feel bad and a bit of a bitch, but loving her and torturing herself for what an idiot she’d been made her feel ten times worse, as if her heart had been removed from its sheath in her ribcage and been stomped on, kicked about, stabbed with a blunt knife and dragged through broken glass. Any attempt to sleep was futile. Brooke’s eyes hurt with fatigue as she sat up, rubbed them and stretched. She would go and see if Nina was still awake, maybe sit up and annoy her for a while.

As she crossed the floor she noticed a small movement out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa was sitting on the floor by the window, her legs crossed and eating a packet of crisps she’d managed to procure from somewhere. Brooke thought she looked so tiny compared to the huge pane of glass and the world that sat outside of it. Now that the lights were off, Brooke could see every detail that lay beyond the window- the soft yellow glow of the streetlights that faintly illuminated the park beside the library, the pink and white marshmallow cherry blossom trees that lined each path. A memory shot through Brooke’s mind like a lightning bolt- the eight of them in second year after their exams had all finished, having a barbecue in the park as the sun beat down and frazzled them all to a crisp, the smell of sausages and weed carried on the light breeze and the warmth in Brooke’s heart as Vanessa had teased her about something, the girls all laughing at Brooke’s embarrassment and protests.

God, they’d all been so happy.

Without really knowing what her plan was, Brooke walked over to where Vanessa was sitting and sat down cautiously beside her. The other girl looked at her, as if she was deciding whether to glare or smile. She ended up doing neither.

“Can’t sleep either?” Brooke chose as her opener, immediately regretting it for the cheesy line from a film it was. Vanessa gave a sarcastic chuckle, gestured around her.

“Apparently,” she said simply, Brooke looking at the carpet and kicking herself. There was a moment where the cogs in her brain whirred quickly, trying to come up with something else to say. Vanessa surprised her by speaking again. “I ain’t been sleeping too good lately anyway, though, so. I guess it don’t matter.”

“Me neither,” Brooke felt something click inside her, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she spoke again. “Vanessa, we need to talk.”

Vanessa kept her eyes trained on the pane of glass in front of her. “We are talking.”

“God, Ness, please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Brooke sighed, her face pleading. Vanessa’s head snapped round to face her and her eyes were what could only be described as murderous.

“Hard? Don’t fucking dare talk to me about hard,” she said, slowly and carefully and causing Brooke’s heart to frost over in fear. “This year has been shit, absolute shit, the shittest year of my life. You broke my heart- no, fuck that. You broke me. I had to take my goddamn feelings and put them all back together again, start from scratch while you swanned about absolutely fine. I am having to fight to get my average up because of the days I spent in my flat crying instead of going to lectures. Do you have any idea, Brooke, what this has been like for me?”

Brooke was silent as Vanessa continued relentlessly. “And then I finally got myself to a place where, hey, maybe I could be friends with you again! Then what happened? All the old feelings came back, didn’t they, and then we fucking…slept with each other and-”

“Hey, no,” Brooke jumped in, frowning and unable to listen to what was to come. “Don’t try to pin that on me, Vanessa, that was all you. It wasn’t me that fucking…straddled you in the hot tub and stripped off and talked about the sex I was having with other girls, was it?”

“Oh, no! You’re right. You’re correct,” Vanessa smiled sarcastically, soon getting replaced with a scowl. “You only got with me incredibly intensely in front of seven of our closest friends, who knew all the shit that’s gone down between us and watched like a fucking soap opera.”

“Well I didn’t hear you complaining at the time!” Brooke bit back, causing Vanessa to fall silent and play with a thread of her ripped jeans. Brooke let out a breath she’d been holding, took in a huge gulp of air. “Look, this is…this is off to a bad start.”

Brooke watched Vanessa’s throat move as she swallowed, her eyes cast downwards. Brooke was good at holding in her feelings, bottling them up like her life depended on it. She was terrified of feeling too much. She had no idea how this conversation was meant to start, but she knew she had to have it.

“Vanessa, I am sorry. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am. I’m sorry for going about everything the wrong way. I’d never…done anything like this before, never properly seen anyone like I was seeing you, so I didn’t know how to behave. And fuck, maybe I was leading you on, and I’m sorry for that too. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Well, I thought I knew what I wanted but then I just…didn’t any more. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t realise how much you liked me until it was too late,” Brooke cut herself off, sighing and feeling a bubble of sadness rise up in her throat. “Fuck, I’m trying to put it all the way I want it but nothing’s coming out right.”

Vanessa was looking at her, she knew it, but Brooke’s gaze had dropped to the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest. There was so much she wanted to say to Vanessa but none of the sentences she constructed in her head seemed to be sufficient.

“That night. You said that you missed me,” Vanessa’s voice was soft and small as she spoke, stripped from all the venom it had held before. “Did you mean it?”

Brooke jumped in instantly. “Yes.”

Vanessa was now looking at the floor, picking at her shoelace. “And did you mean…as a friend, or…just the sex, or…”

Brooke took a deep breath. I love you I love you IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. The words were so close to coming out, but she stopped them. Now wasn’t the right time, nowhere near the right time. She tried to think about what the perfect response would be, sighed, scrapped it, and decided to just simply speak. “I miss you as…everything. I miss you as whatever you want to be to me. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. I just miss you for all that you are, the person you are. I miss us,” Brooke paused, realised her last remark was slightly risky. “Interpret that…however you want.”

Brooke snuck a gaze at Vanessa. A thought struck her as memories ran round her mind, and now she had started talking it seemed she couldn’t stop. “Do you remember after we…after lazerquest. Yvie’s birthday. We met up and we spoke about things and you said something. That whatever happens, we’d be friends always. Do you remember?”

Vanessa gave a little laugh. “You can wear a set of armbands in a current, don’t mean you won’t drown.”

She saw Brooke’s confused look, shot her a bashful smile. “I never expected to…end up feeling so strongly for you at the start. Didn’t expect to get as crazy about you as I got. Man…I wish you could turn feelings off.”

Brooke felt herself frown, a deep regret settling in the pit of her stomach. “I wish that too.”

She didn’t miss the brief look of surprise that flashed across Vanessa’s face. In the lull in conversation that followed, Vanessa wordlessly pushed the packet of crisps towards Brooke. She took one. Chilli heatwave wasn’t her favourite flavour, but it was a peace offering, and she’d take what she could get.

"So I stopped sleeping with Monique,” Vanessa commented, shrugging a little. Brooke blinked, almost choked on her crisp as she raced to get a reply out.

“Uh, yeah, I did notice you were a bit weird about things when Nina said you should call her.”

Vanessa pushed some hair out of her face, puffed her cheeks up with air and blew out harshly. “Monet kinda told me…she was catching feelings, and obviously I wasn’t there for that. So I said to her we shouldn’t keep going.”

Brooke felt a little twinge of pain for Monique. The poor girl had a crush and was just caught in the crossfire. “And how did she take it?”

Vanessa stared through the glass, her gaze steadfast. “I could tell she was sad. Disappointed. She didn’t start cryin’ or nothing, but…God, I still felt bad. I liked her, you know, she was a great girl. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where she took my heart and patched it all up again and we ended up together but…that’s not what it was for me. And the more she said she understood and that she hoped I’d find happiness, the worse I felt for having to tell her I wanted something different.”

Brooke nodded. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she knew the feeling all too well, but she didn’t want to interrupt her. Vanessa turned her head slowly, finally making eye contact with Brooke, and her eyes were the softest they’d been in a while. “I guess what I’m sayin’ is…I know now what it must have been like for you to break it off with me. And yeah, it completely fuckin’ wrecked me but…you did what you had to do. So…I forgive you, Brooke Lynn.”

Brooke couldn’t quite believe Vanessa was in front of her saying all this. Instinctively she wanted to launch herself forward and hug her, thanking her for her change of heart. Just as she’d convinced herself she was almost going to do it, Vanessa spoke again. Her voice held a slightly more steely note to it now. “But I don’t forgive you for kissing me or for that night in the hot tub. That really fucked with me.”

Brooke fought the urge to snap a childish you started it at her and instead said a soft okay. She also fought the urge to reach out and place a hand on top of Vanessa’s. The building was still pitch black and silent and the girls had reached a conversational purgatory. Vanessa had forgiven her for some of her mistakes at least. This was the closure Brooke had wanted. Despite herself, she found herself opening her mouth. There was so much still unresolved.

“You must kind of hate me for that."

Vanessa snorted, tilted her head to the sky. "I do and I don’t.”

A small silence. Brooke knew what she wanted to say, knew what topic she wanted to breach, but it meant plunging head first into the icy chill of the great unknown, and as much as she wanted to talk about it she was terrified of doing so.

“Is that because part of you loves me?”

It was out before Brooke knew it. Vanessa had frozen, her body unmoving with her head still positioned towards the ceiling like a terrifying Exorcist yoga pose. Brooke could immediately predict it, could practically hear it- Vanessa’s quick, sarcastic response, don’t flatter yourself, her getting up and thundering away to another part of the building in some angry game of hide and seek. She couldn’t face any of those options, so Brooke continued talking. “I was in the bathroom at the same time. In the next stall along from you and the girls. I heard you say that you never got to tell me. Did you mean it?”

“Why are you asking me this, Brooke? Is it to add insult to injury? Is it not enough knowing that the girl you broke it off with can still come crawling back into bed with you so easily, you have to rub salt into the wound by getting me to fucking…” Brooke heard Vanessa take a big deep, shaky breath, felt the tears prick at the corners of her own eyes. “…admit that I’m in love with you, yes, okay? I love you. What’s the reason?”

“Because I…fuck,” Brooke jumped in then immediately stopped. She felt her jaw wire itself shut, almost paralysed with fear. She didn’t know if she could verbalise everything she was feeling. “I’m not good at talking about this stuff.”

“No shit, Miss Marple,” Vanessa quipped bitterly, her eyes back looking at the carpet and avoiding Brooke’s gaze. The lack of eye contact helped Brooke. She carried on.

“You know, I used to lie in bed before I went to sleep and rehearse what I would say to you to tell you I liked you,” Brooke gave a laugh, remembering when things were more simple. “Except none of it worked out that way. And now I’ve actually got a second chance at it, I’m almost too frightened to say it. I completely fucked it with you, Vanessa. You’re an absolute one of a kind person. Your smile just makes me happy whether or not it’s directed at me. The love and loyalty you have for your friends makes me proud of you. You’re so determined and hard working and you’re smashing your degree. And you’re kind. You see the good in everyone and you’re not afraid to feel and tell the world all about it. All these things that I just…love about you. It took me being away from you and making the biggest mistake of my life, and that night when we were together like everything was back to normal, it took all of that to make me realise that I’m…fuck..”

Brooke almost hadn’t realised she was crying until a sob bubbled up in her throat, almost choking her. It was almost like her body’s survival mechanism, trying to save her from the potential rejection she might face once the words were out.

Fuck it.

“I’m in love with you. I love you so much that it scares me. It scares me more than being fucking…trapped in the library in the pitch black with no way out,” Brooke let out a hybrid of a laugh and a sob. By now, Vanessa had lifted her gaze to look at Brooke, and Brooke had shifted hers so she could protect herself from Vanessa’s reaction. “Because I don’t want to hurt you again, and you deserve better than someone like me.”

“Then don’t,” Vanessa said quietly.

“What?” Brooke whispered, confused. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper over her hands and jammed them under her eyes, used them to stop the tears from escaping.

“You said you don’t want to hurt me again. Then don’t,” Vanessa repeated patiently. Brooke blinked. She had no idea what that meant, so she went with the knowledge she had at hand.

“I love you, and you love me,” Brooke said softly, finally meeting Vanessa’s eyes. “Can we…do something with that information?”

Vanessa let out a loud blast of a laugh, making Brooke giggle even though she didn’t know what was funny. “God, that’s the most Brooke Lynn Hytes way of asking me out ever. Can we do something with that information.”

Vanessa’s smile was infectious. It lit up Brooke’s heart and she wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her gently, to make Vanessa hers properly this time. As her smile faded though, Brooke felt her hope fade too. Vanessa let out a world-weary sigh. “Brooke, I don’t…I don’t know if I can do this all over again.”

Brooke’s heart dropped to the floor and shattered. She wanted to say something, fill the silence and reassure her, but nothing came out. She had opened up, and it had all been for nothing. This was her karma- she had broken Vanessa’s heart and now here was Vanessa breaking hers. She felt crushed. Lacking the energy to do it properly, she nodded her head once, the action small and probably barely noticeable.

It was so quiet that Brooke could hear Vanessa swallow beside her, hear her breathing deeply to calm herself down before she spoke. “You never hear it in the movies but sometimes…sometimes love isn’t enough, you know, sometimes you need to put yourself first, and sometimes the person you love ain’t necessarily the one who ends up making you happiest.”

Brooke felt her chest grow tight, felt ashamed as her head hung to the floor. She saw two tears fall from her eyes and drop onto the carpet, making identical, miniscule ponds.

“But then also,” Vanessa continued, the but aspect causing Brooke’s heart to dip and soar upwards as if it was on a rollercoaster. “I love you for a reason, don’t I? The way that you say shit that’s all sarcastic and funny. The way you make me laugh. The way you’re always blunt and truthful, and when you say nice things to me it feels like you’re just saying a fact. The way you got this childish, immature streak to you that makes everything feel like an adventure when I’m with you. You listen in the best way, ‘cause you never try an’ force advice down anyone’s throat. You’re always so concerned about everyone you care for and want them to be happy…and even though you ain’t good at expressin’ it, I know you have feelings and I know they scare you. You’re like a fuckin…model, you’re so beautiful and perfect. So that’s as simple as it has to be, right?”

Brooke looked up and saw tears in Vanessa’s own eyes. All the honesty was so raw and painful, like burnt or grazed skin, and it hurt and stung as if it was real. It was real. Brooke hid a sob, took a deep breath. “I don’t, uh. I don’t know where we take this.”

“I want to be with you. I want to love and be loved, feel my heart fuckin’…burst like it’s made of confetti,” Vanessa continued, letting out what could have been a sob or a laugh. “But I want to be happy. I don’t want to be hurt again. I’m scared.”

“I’m scared too,” Brooke nodded, feeling the tracks the tears were making down her face. She sighed, the pain in her heart too heavy for her to carry. “Fuck, maybe we’re just not meant for each other, maybe we got our chance already. Maybe nothing should come of this-”

“But, fuck, I love you, Brooke! And you love me,” Vanessa sighed in exasperation, her mascara collecting under her eyes as her own tears continued to fall. “And that…that means something.”

“I love you,” Brooke repeated, in case it counted for anything. It meant the world to her. Vanessa gave a sad smile, reached out and took Brooke’s hand and laced their fingers together. She squeezed Brooke’s hand twice, and the simple gesture made Brooke hopeful that everything was going to be okay.

“Shit, I waited so long to hear you say that and now it’s like…” Vanessa began sadly, trailing off. Brooke didn’t push her to finish her sentence. Instead, she squeezed her hand like Vanessa had done with hers. The action seemed to work as a prompt, because she spoke again, tilting her head with curiosity. “What do you want outta all this?”

Brooke knew immediately. “I want you. I want us to be us again.”

Vanessa let out a soft sigh, paused. “Okay, well. I don’t know what I want right now, Brooke. An’ it’s gonna be hard to start again. So you’re gonna need to give me time to decide.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait for you. You can take all the time you need,” Brooke reassured her instantly. “I’ll still be here.”

Vanessa’s hand shifted in her own. Brooke watched as she frowned a little, cast her gaze her way again. "You mean that?”

“I mean it. Whatever you decide. Whether we’re worth an extra chance or not. I’ll wait for you.”

A small smile crept onto Vanessa’s face as Brooke waited for her reply. “That’s the most romantic shit anyone ever said to me.”

“Well, it’s just the truth,” Brooke muttered, feeling her cheeks grow hot and glad that the dark room would hide her pink blush. Then, getting an idea and feeling a little spark of that childishness and immaturity Vanessa seemed to love so much, Brooke let go of Vanessa’s hand and held out her other one for her to shake. The other girl looked at her, a funny, confused smile on her face as she took her hand and shook it obediently.

“Hey. I’m Brooke Lynn,” she began, trying to suppress her smile as she spoke. Vanessa giggled, falling back a little then leaning forward.

“What are you…”

“Starting again. What’s your name, beautiful?” Brooke teased, all the darkness somehow bursting into colour as Vanessa laughed beside her, swatting her on her arm with her hand. She hadn’t seen this Vanessa in so long; happy, laughing, cheerful and playful. Brooke could’ve cried with how much she’d missed her.

“This is some dumbass shit, you know that?” Vanessa giggled, but Brooke could see the blush on her own cheeks illuminated by the streetlamps outside. Vanessa appeared to see her expectant face, laughed a resigned laugh and indulged her. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa, but everyone calls me Vanjie.”

“Can I call you Vanessa? It’s pretty. It suits you.”

Vanessa laughed again, making Brooke give a chuckle too. “Bitch! You never flirted with me this hard the first time.”

“Well the first time we were friends, so I couldn’t flirt with you. Not properly like I wanted to anyway,” Brooke laughed, taking a Dorito and throwing it at her playfully. Vanessa squealed, toppling herself out of the way. “You, on the other hand, flirted all the time.”

“I’m a flirtatious person! You shouldn’t have taken that shit personal,” Vanessa protested, attempting to look offended but unable to wipe the smile off her face.

“So Vanessa,” Brooke carried on, trying to stop herself smiling as she carried on with the charade. “What are you studying?”

They carried on like that all through the night, being silly and getting to know each other again right from the very beginning. They had missed out on so much conversation over the past few months that it was actually nice to catch up, to re-establish herself in Vanessa’s life. She was looking at graduate jobs in events management for after uni and thinking of moving home to save money. For a fleeting moment Brooke almost suggested that they move in together but she was glad she had the sense not to verbalise that, a thought that was perhaps better bottled up and saved for another time. After all, Vanessa hadn’t even decided if she wanted to be with Brooke or not yet. Brooke had to cling on to the hope that maybe she would, because she had nothing else. Well, that was a lie. She had Vanessa’s smile and her laugh, the twinkle in her eyes when Brooke made a deadpan comment. She had the way Vanessa opened up to her, told her how scared she was of trying to navigate the world on her own after she graduated. She had the way that Vanessa shuffled close to her when the sun eventually began to rise, its glow a burnt orange ombre into a soft yellow which faded into the gentle blue of the morning sky. She had the way Vanessa’s head fit perfectly into the crook of her neck as, worn out and exhausted, she closed her eyes and dozed off in Brooke’s tentative arms.

Most of all, she had the fact that Vanessa loved her, and Brooke loved her back. And even though it hadn’t been the movie scene confession Brooke had been expecting, that fact, the sunrise, and Vanessa sleeping softly against her chest was enough for her for the moment.  

#rpdr fanfiction #not nineteen forever #n19f #ortega #branjie #scyvie #ninex #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #college au #university au #nina west #silky nutmeg ganache #s11

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter 8)

Alastor X Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight 

((Here is the song that Alastor sings!!))

The book was just too heavy for Charlie’s arms. She heaved a heavy sigh and tried her best not to drop the ancient text. The hotel halls were fairly empty as of right now, but by sundown, she knew this place would be exploding with all kinds of life. The dark halls carried a soft echo within them. It sounded like… Music. It wasn’t any kind of music she was used to hearing this high up in the hotel. In fact, she normally didn’t hear anything from the 23rd floor because Alastor was the only one who lived up here and he was a rather quiet person.

Charlie could just barely make out the sad sing-song monologue that was coming from Alastor’s room. She got closer to his door and did her best to get her ear as close to the wood without touching it. The music sounded nothing like the songs Alastor normally sang or hummed. It didn’t even sound like a song from his time… which was very odd seeing as Alastor was so keen on staying in the past. Did he hear this song or was he singing his own thoughts out loud? 

It was sad though. Because on the other side of the door, Alastor was peering into his Water Well, “Headspace….” He muttered quietly to the soft music escaping his frame. “I need a route of my headspace…‘Cause it’s a war in here and I need you to take…” He paused and leaned closer to the Water Well’s surface, “Take her out of my headspace,” His voice was soft as he watched your sleeping form rise and fall with every breath. Threw Buck’s eyes, Alastor watched you sleep peacefully in your bed. Buck sat on a dresser, staring at you intently as his tail flicked back and forth. 

Alastor leaned a little closer to the Water Well as he felt an emotion in his chest that only upset him more, “Gonna drive, drive, drive this Cadillac, up the ocean road until it runs out of gas. 'Cause I’m hurt... I laugh and I joke but I’m hurt!” His emotions swelled in his chest and kept boiling bubbles into his throat, making his voice strained with stress, “I’m gonna sing, sing, sing my new swan song, so all the bright young sparks have got a tune they can hum. But it’ll hurt… I’ll dance if they ask but it’ll hurt!”

He moved away quickly from the Water Well and started to pace around his room. He frowned quietly while he came to terms with these feelings he felt. There was pain, sorrow, grief, and mourning all at once. His mouth was closed as his voice continued to sing. There was a grimace on his face as he walked towards the large french doors that led to a balcony off of his room. He opened the curtains slowly, looking towards the massive pentagram in the sky. He could see that little glimmer of clouds and stars in the distance in Heaven above.

Alastor dropped the curtains and moved away from the french doors. He mustered the strength to sing allowed to the song. He hated this song, but not because he didn’t like the way it sounded… He hated the way it made him feel. He hated it even more that he heard you singing it one day to yourself. He was spying on you in the shadows while you cleaned dishes. The song had been stuck in his head for hours. Now it just wouldn’t go away.

“Cause now I feel, feel, feel like a disco ball, from the 1970’s all dusty and worn! And it huuurts... I reflect the light, but it hurts!” He spun around on his heel dramatically and looked to the ceiling of his room, “I use to run, run, run until my knees gave way! I use to wrestle with bears and kiss poisonous snakes. I didn’t caaaaare….! They scratch and they bite I didn’t care, I didn’t care!!”

Slowly Alastor lowered his gaze and had a blank stair focused on the large portrait hanging above the fireplace in his room. It was of your past self and him. A painting of you sitting perfectly in a seat with Alastor behind you. Your hands were folded in your lap and his hand was on your shoulder, “Heeadspaaace,” He sang quietly while staring right into your perfectly painted eyes, “I need a route of my headspace, cause it’s a war in here and I need somebody to say, take her out of my headspaaace,” It pained him to look, but he couldn’t take his gaze away, “These 5.5 liters of blood have some sour taste for your sweet taste buds… You put a war zone inside me. Above and below the neck, above and below the neck…” 

He hated this whole god damn situation. He hated that you were gone but still here. He hated that this stupid hotel actually worked. He wished he could go back home to the castle, but you wouldn’t be there and someone else was the new GateKeeper. From the corners of his room, a pair of empty eyes glimmered from the shadows. Eon watched, entertain to see Alastor in distress. Normally he wouldn’t allow for such signs of weakness.

It was interesting to watch Alastor’s thought process. His sadness warped into bitterness and he tore his eyes from your portrait and started to turn away, “Someone flick a light on, the dark just makes it worse. I’m running out of options and I’m lost for words!” He snapped his gaze towards the Water Well, “Little life wrecker, are you gonna let me know?” He smiled bitterly with furrowed brows, “Or keep showing me the compassion of a talk show host?” He watched you sleep away, “I’m not acting my age here and I’m growing up too fast! If these streets are paved with gold- I want my money back!” He was angry now and quickly dipped a finger into the glowing water within.

Buck quickly jumped from the dresser he was perched on and wandered away. The Water Well died down and the soft blue glow turned into a wicked green. As the ripples shifted in size, Alastor could slowly begin to pick out an image. He kept humming the tune to that song. He even muttered, “Heeeadspaace, mhmm hmmm,” Goddammit. He hated it.

His feelings were utterly complicated and unnecessary. He didn’t want to admit that you were dead and gone and replaced with this new version of yourself. He wanted to old you back, the classy sophisticated and mysterious lady that you were. Not this... innocent and clueless child. Well, young adult but compared to him you were still incredibly young. He knew however that he had to accept this change or lose you forever. He could not deny that there was indeed something there between the two of you. Your soul was like a warm and familiar hug that he wanted to hide in forever.

Alastor fought with his very being to not do what he wanted, and that was to simply taint your soul and drag you down to hell. However, he knew how selfish and idiotic that was. He needed to win you over, he needed to get to know the new you and make you fall in love with him. Alastor was incredibly bitter about it, but he was slowly letting go of those emotions as he talked himself down. At the end of the day, that was still your soul, and he still loved that part of you. And maybe, just maybe, your memories were locked in there too. If he could find a way to bring your memories back, then maybe... There was a chance he’d get the love of his life back. If not, Alastor had to get comfortable with the idea that she was gone and you replaced her. Regardless, Alastor wasn’t going to let your soul go. You were and always will be his soulmate no matter how many times you were reincarnated you’d always be his and he’d always be yours. He was willing to do whatever it took to bring your soul back home to him. He just wanted to get back to his eternal damnation with you. He wanted to go back to the castle, forget the hotel, and live his solitary life with you as the decades pass by. 

Alastor peered into the swirling water of the well. The green glow started to fade away and into the soft sky blue it was only a few moments ago. The well showed him a window to a clean little white house. A crow sat on a branch staring into the window of someone’s home. It was Sage’s home, and Alastor was watching that stupid witch fold her clothes and put them away. He had summoned a familiar, similar to Buck, and used this creature as his ears and eyes on earth when he couldn’t be there himself.

Within seconds Sage started to look around, dammit, she could sense him. Alastor continued to watch Sage through the crow’s eyes. She wandered over to the window and looked around before locking her gaze with the crows. Sage quickly opened the window waved her pointer finger in the air with a quick flick of her hand. Pure magic zapped from her fingertip like lightening in a wave of blues and whites. As soon as it came in contact with the crow, the magical bird poofed into a cloud of smoke and Alastor couldn’t see anything in the Water Well anymore. 

Music still softly played within his room, waving off his radio heart. As much as he didn’t want this, he couldn’t help it. Sometimes his radio heart would sing and play music against his will, exposing the emotions he’d been bottling up. He remembered a cloudy and lost memory as he walked away from the Water Well, it was from decades ago when he and you had only just started dating. He was walking around the courtyard of the castle, you had just plucked a dying flower from wilting bushes and as you stood up the wind blew your hair just right. He could smell the cherry blossoms and peaches wafting from your fluttering hair, the sun casting perfectly on your face and making your eyes sparkle. That sight alone caused Alastor to quickly fall in love with you, you were so beautiful and graceful and you flustered him so much that his radio heart started singing songs against his own will. He’d beat his fist against his chest and every time he whacked his ribs a new love song would start playing. He couldn’t get it to stop and you stared at him with a blush growing on your cheeks. The two of you were terribly awkward when you first met... Nothing like now. Nothing was the same.

Meanwhile, as a new song softly played, Charlie was still on the other side of his door. She felt… Awkward. She had heard everything and felt guilty for listening. She wasn’t sure what was going on in there but it sounded... Not natural of Alastor. She knew him as a chaotic entertainer, a happy sinner, and a killer. When in the world would he have ever heard that song and why….. Why the fuck was he singing it? Was he actually in as much pain as it sounded? She honestly couldn’t know.

Maybe she could just drop the book off and walk away- Oh… OH! Shit! The book was starting to slip between her tired fingers then it quickly fell from her grasp. It thudded right onto the ground. Not even a millisecond later the music scratched like a record and stopped. Alastor’s door was opened and there he was. Glowing smile and flashing red eyes peering down at her with his sharp grin growing in size. 

“Heellooo~?” Alastor drawled, “What brings you here, Charlie?” 

“Uh!” She froze and felt a bead of sweat grow on her temple, “I brought the book!” Charlie chuckled quickly and lifted the damn thing from the ground, “My dad said to keep it actually!” Then she shook her head, “What the hell is this?”

Alastor quickly took the book from her and held it as if it weighed nothing, “Just an old book,” He quickly turned and wandered back into his room. He left the door open willingly and let Charlie wander inside. He needed a little cheering up, and messing with the princess’s head was always a good pick-me-up. He walked over to a small table in the middle of his room, right between his bed and fireplace. He set the book down and quickly opened it up. 

Hesitant, Charlie made her way over, then looked up at the tall and overly sized portrait painting, “You hung it back up...” She started to smile weakly, “I never thought I’d see her up there again,” Charlie felt a ping of pain within her heart. Bittersweetly she missed you but was happy you had moved on. You were the first successful soul to be rehabilitated at the hotel. Honestly, Charlie didn’t know a damn thing about how or why it happened, whether it had something to do with her or the hotel, she didn’t know. But she still missed you, you were still a close friend and she smiled sadly at your portrait. 

Alastor ignored the princess, his back was to her and he was focused on the task at hand. He didn’t say anything and let a small smile rest on his lips as he worked away. Charlie walked over with a wary step and peered over his shoulder. 

She had never seen that book before, she didn’t even know her father had it... Well her mother actually had it but that didn’t mean anything. It was called the Libro Vitae. It was apparently a.... weapon. Angel weaponry to be exact. But how? It was just a book, wasn’t it? When she watched Alastor’s long claws trace the pages, she realized she couldn’t read any of the text, “What is this, Al?” The words were in a language she couldn’t read and had never seen before. They were cut up symbols and dots and dashes.

“The Book of Life. It’s a spellbook, my lady, nothing you’d be interested in. Old Angel Tech,” He paused and slowly flipped a few pages before pausing on a page with summoning circles on both open pages, “Can you be a doll and grab that bottle over there?” He didn’t look up once from the book, he just pointed in the general direction he wanted her to go in. 

She looked over and saw a fancy bottle made of dark blue glass. It was on a shelf near the Water Well. Charlie had seen one before but had never used it. It honestly just looked like a glowing green birdbath. She took a quick peek into it’s rippling waters and saw nothing. Something told her to touch the water, Charlie looked over at Alastor to make sure he was still nose deep in the book, then she quickly dipped a finger into the well. It started to glow and suddenly she saw someone. It was Vaggie! She could see her girlfriend scolding Angel Dust down in the lobby of the Hotel. 

“Are you serious!? You can’t be! It’s not even that much!” Angel had a frown embedded into his face and his teeth bared, “Do you know what I had to do to get my hands on that!?”

Vaggie was in the middle of tearing up some kind of printed paper, “No. Drugs. Allowed. LSD is on that list of drugs!”

A hand tightly gripped Charlie’s shoulder and when she snapped her gaze up, Alastor was grinning in her face, “Not what I asked you to do. Geeze, my lady, for a princess you sure don’t know how to take an order. I just can’t wait for the day you ascend to the throne!” 

Charlie frowned at Alastor’s sarcasm, “I wasn’t doing anything- I just wanted to see what would happen! It just... did that,” Charlie waved a hand at the Water Well and ducked as Alastor reached over her and grabbed the blue bottle he had asked for, “My mother has a Water Well and this thing has to be broken. It’s nothing like hers. She uses it to talk to people, like a phone?” 

Alastor chuckled and mocked Charlie’s lack of intelligence, “Silly little girl,” He cooed, “This isn’t just any Water Well, it’s mine. And this particular well shows what the heart desires the most at the time of your call,” 

Stars began to form in Charlie’s eyes as she realized what he was saying. She looked back and almost died of happiness, she touched the water again and it stayed on Vaggie, “Aw,” It felt oddly nice to know that her heart was set on Vaggie. But what about Alastor? Charlie didn’t even know that Alastor had a heart to begin with... Well, he did at one time, sort of. She looked at him with large eyes, “What about you, Al?” 

He didn’t say anything, he just let his grin die a little on his face as he dipped the very tip of his finger into the water. It splashed and rippled for a few moments then focused on someone just getting out of bed. It took Charlie a few seconds to realize what she was seeing, “Is-... Is that a human!?” Then she realized that this human was what Alastor’s heart desired most. She leaned closer to him while whisper yelling, “What do you want with a human?” Then her gaze grew concerned, “You’re not going to hurt her are you?”

Alastor chuckled, “Haha, no, my lady, I have no intentions of such things,” then proceeded to walk away from the Water Well. Charlie stayed there, however, staring down into the well, “I just want to bring her back home,” Alastor said as he went back to the large book. He twisted open the blue bottle and a small pink perfume of smoke sparkled out. It smelled like cherry blossoms and peaches, it was your favorite perfume before you had been reincarnated. 

Charlie could smell it too, then it clicked in her head. She instantly thought of you when that sweet scent reached her nose, then she peered into the Water Well, “Oh my God,” Shock crawled onto Charlie’s face as she lifted a hand to her mouth, “It’s (Y/n)... isn’t it? I thought you said she went to Heaven?”

Thankfully Alastor’s back was towards Charlie, so she couldn’t see the slight flicker of disdain on his face. He was standing over the book as he dripped the smallest drop of perfume onto the pages with a second drop of blood from the tip of his finger, “I lied,” He said smoothly, “She was reincarnated and sent back to Earth. Don’t have a God damn clue as to why, or what was so special about her though, unfortunately,” The book sparkled and started to glow pink light from runes and summoning circles

Walking over with caution, Charlie stood beside Alastor. She had a sad and sorry look on her face as she placed a hand on his arm, “That sounds like it’s taking a toll on you. You must be dealing with a lot right now,” Her words were kind and comforting, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Not at all. He just gave her a kind smile and shook his head, “What’s there to talk about, my lady? I’m perfectly fine!” Alastor lied through his grin. Meanwhile, the book had calmed down and Alastor was just about to get to the spell he wanted to cast when something else sounded from behind him.

It was you, calling to him through the Water Well. You had woken up and already started your day. It was a Saturday and you didn’t have a single plan. You hadn’t seen Alastor since a few nights ago when he took you on the magical trip to New Orleans. You wanted to see him again, however, and you weren’t sure if you just had to wait around for him or maybe he was waiting for you to summon him.

You weren’t going to wait and find out, “Alastor...?” You called while sitting on the edge of your bed. Sleep was still caked into the corners of your eyes. You rubbed the knuckle of your finger into your eye and called again while yawning, “Aalaa- asstoorr? You ‘round?” 

Back in his room, Alastor flicked his gaze between the Water Well and Charlie. He stared at her for a second longer, she had the biggest grin on her face, from ear to ear, and stars twisting in her eyes. She looked like she was about to explode with excitement and giddiness. He already knew what she wanted, and he couldn’t say no because this was truly an entertaining event to see. The Princess of Hell? Going to Earth for a day? Oh, Lucifer would just love that, wouldn’t he? And how well would Charlie react to humans? She was a pureblood demon after all... Alastor just had to see this.

With a quick wave of his hand, a portal opened and Alastor extended his arm for Charlie to take. She quickly locked her elbow with his and started to giggle and laugh with excitement. The two jumped gracefully through the portal and startled the ever-living shit out of you.

You watched as a portal opened and spit out two demons. Startled, you jumped backward onto your bed and lifted your arms to cover your face, “Jesus fuck!” You yelled, “Can’t you give me a little warning?!” You saw Alastor in his fully demonic form grinning wickedly as he tried to hold a very small and less intimidating girl. She looked like she was ready to scream. She bit her lip as he rosy-red cheeks puffed out and her eyes sparkled.

“U-uh...” You started, confused as to why Alastor had brought whoever that was... here, “Who’s that?” 

“HELLO!” The girl quickly tore herself from Alastor’s grip and approached you with a huge smile. It wasn’t wicked or intimidating like Alastor’s, it was large and happy and filled with joy, “My name’s Charlie! I use to know you in Hell!” She held her hand out to you.

You hesitated then shook her hand, “Hi...?” Charlie didn’t really look like a demon that much. She definitely didn’t look human, but she could pass for a cosplayer or something like that. 

“I didn’t know humans could be so colorful!” What was she talking about? “Hey Al? What is this?” She started to point her finger around you. You felt awkward and you just sat there, frozen and unsure how to react.

At first, Alastor ignored Charlie, and even pushed her aside as he approached you. He held his hand out for you, offering to help you up. You took your hand in his and couldn’t suppress the shiver and delight that raced down your spine. Instantly you felt that warm fuzzy static that sparked in your heart every time you touched him. 

“I’m sorry to burden you like this, my darling,” Alastor pulled you to your feet smoothly and with grace, “I know you called, but I seemed to have brought along a friend, and I’m sure you didn’t expect that!” He smiled at you then gestured to Charlie, “This is Princess Charlotte Magne,” You saw Charlie give a small glare at Alastor, “She’s the heiress to the throne!” He then turned to Charlie and started to clap as little streamers and confetti ignited around her, manifested by Alastor.

It sunk in that Charlie just wasn’t any other demon. She was the demon. The Princess of Hell, “Shit... okay,” You said slowly.

“And that-” Alastor started to speak again, he waved his hand around your head and said, “Is and aura, and that-” He pointed to your chest, “Is a living human soul,” You had no idea what they were talking about and you couldn’t see a damn thing either. It must have been some kind of special demon vision.

“Ooh, okay!” Charlie made a little face of understanding, “Do all humans have these colors?”

“Indeed,” Alastor said quickly. He then grabbed Charlie by her arm and started to walk towards your bedroom door, “Come now, Charlie! Let’s give our friend some time to get dressed, yes?”

“Okay but! What about animals? Do they have- AH!” Charlie was pushed out of your room and Alastor quickly left while closing the door behind him. So this is how your day was going to start, huh? You thought you’d get a little personal time with Alastor to ask some questions about your past life. Nah, you were going to do whatever the hell was waiting for you outside your bedroom door. _______________

You had just gotten dressed, finally slipping on your last sock when you heard a loud bang from your living room. Suddenly there was a crash followed by yelling and shouting. What the hell...? Buck stayed hidden under your bed as you pulled open your door. 

Things had gone from pretty okay to fucking shitty real fucking fast. You were met with not two, not three, but four fucking demons making a mess of your home. You had seen the very last seconds of a portal closing as two demons were picking themselves up off the floor.

“Charlie!” A girl yelled. She had one good eye and a large ‘X’ for the other one. Her hair was long and white and cast down the entire length of her back, “What has gotten into you? Do you even know where we are?” She got up and walked towards Charlie, concern, and fear on her face, “This is the surface. We can’t be here! Your father will lose his god damn mind!”

“It’s just for a couple hours Vaggie,” Charlie smiled softly. She quickly took Vaggie’s hands in hers, “You know I’ve always wanted to! Please! No one has to know,” There was a soft pleading in Charlie’s voice.

Whatever it was, it worked on Vaggie and she sighed, “Just for an hour,” She said sternly, “There are demon hunters here, Charlie, they can kill us.”

Suddenly the last demon was getting to his feet, “Kill us how?” His accent sounded local. He was much taller than the rest of them, he looked like a white spider and much more demonic than any of them. His eyes didn’t match and his hair swept in and out of his face, “I ain’t looking to die again, I’m not even sure why the hell I jump through that fucking portal anyways,” 

“They’d kill us for good, Angel,” Vaggie explained, “We wouldn’t go back to hell, our souls would be destroyed and we’d cease to exist. I’d rather we’d just get out of here. The longer we stay the more we risk getting killed,”

“Demon hunters?” Charlie seemed confused. She looked over at Alastor for a second then back to Vaggie, searching for an answer in her face.

“They’re humans who kill any demon that dares to manifest on the surface,”

“Do they work for the church?” Angel butted in with his own question. 

“No,” Vaggie said, “They have their own cult or something and a lot of them are witches and warlocks. They think if they kill enough demons they’ll go to heaven because their pagan blood damns them to hell from the day of their birth.”

How did Vaggie have all this knowledge on Demon Hunters? And not to forget Sage, your best fucking friend was a god damn demon hunter. It was also at this moment when everyone seemed to notice you standing awkwardly in your doorway. Everyone was staring at you, even Alastor. In fact, he started walking away from the rest of them as he quickly manifested some kind of microphone.

“Hello! Testing? Ah!” Alastor’s radio voice shifted in and out tune within the static filter, “Why you’re such a dashing darling doll, ain’t ya sweetheart?” Alastor stood beside you and spoke into the microphone as he smiled wide, “Please, my dear, introduce yourself to our lovely listeners! All of Hell awaits your words!” 

Was this some kind of skit or was he actually broadcasting? You nervously laughed, “Ah-haha... I’m, (Y/n) (L/n)... Hello,” You smiled then gave a small wave of your hand at the others. Charlie smiled and waved back while Angel and Vaggie stared at you with eyes the size of dinner plates. 

“Now! (Y/n),” Alastor brought the microphone back to his lips, he gave you this smug little smile while eyeing you up and down. You felt incredibly nervous and flustered under his gaze, “Are the rumors true? Are you, in fact, the reincarnated soul of our beloved Mistress (Y/n), The Crybaby Demon?”

He quickly twisted the microphone back to you, a large toothy smile on his face as his eyes grew large and a faint red glow manifested within them. You peered back towards the other three for a second then pulled a weak smile onto your face, “Yeeess...?” It was hard to answer that question with any confidence because you still weren’t sure if you were crazy or not.

“Well!” Alastor spoke into the microphone, “You heard it here, folks! Straight from this darling’s pretty little mouth! I simply just can not believe it! Damned souls really do have a chance at redemption, don’t they? Why! The Princess of Hell is even here as well! What say you, dear?”

In a quick puff of smoke, Alastor disappeared then manifested beside Charlie. He shoved the microphone into her face and edged her on to say something, “Um- Yes, yes they do Al! We’ve had many souls make it to heaven, b-but this is the first reincarnation! It just goes to show that there are second chances!” 

“Excellent! Simply marvelous!” Alastor said happily, “Isn’t that sweet? How utterly disgustingly heartwarming that is, that despite being a murderer, a sinner, a thief, a liar, a backstabber, a trickster and my favorite of all, a victim of suicide... A soul as rotten as our beloved (Y/n) can be cleaned entirely of every ounce of sin and freed to the surface,” He had a smile on his face but his voice was strained and threatening, “We must tune in to see what happens next!” Alastor snapped his fingers and the microphone was gone. It didn’t end there, however, as he closed his eyes and smiled wide his form quickly changed in a misty wave of smoke. As he opened his eyes, he was in his human form with a pleasant grin on his face.

Alastor quickly summoned a fancy little cane then gave a firm whack on to each of the other’s heads. As he smacked Charlie’s head with the other end of the cane she was overtaken in a wave of sparkles and stars that transformed her into a human disguise. The same happened as he hit Vaggie and Angel. Without a second of hesitation, Alastor walked back to you and took your arm in his.

He smiled down at you, “Isn’t this fun?” He asked a little too firmly, “Our friends are here to spend an hour with us! What do humans do for fun these days, my darling?”

That was more of a question for someone with a social life. Sure, you had friends, but you weren’t the kind to go out and party until you couldn’t see straight. Fuck... you were a goodie goodie weren’t you? You had a better idea, “Well, what do you guys do for fun?”

“Drugs,” Angel answered quickly, “Oh, and fucking. Lots of drugs and fucking and both, and maybe a little tiny bit little baby ounce of killing if a bitch needs to die,” 

“Don’t listen to him,” Charlie smiled after giving Angel a pointed look, while she spoke, Angel wandered off to your window, “We do a lot, singing. Dancing, helping others and helping ourselves! I like musicals and movies!”

“I like rock shows,” Vaggie said quietly, she seemed nervous to talk about herself, “Raves are cool too. I use to like the groupie life, going to underground clubs and concerts,”

“Wait a sec- W-where are we?” Angel quickly cut in, “Is... is this New York?” He was still looking out the windows, he pulled the curtains back and saw the city life around you, “I can’t believe! Fuck! I- I gotta see what’s happened to this place! I want to go to Manhatten!” No one argued with him. 

So that's how you ended up going to Manhatten, specifically Central Park. Apparently, this was one of Angel’s favorite places to escape to when he was alive. Alastor worked his magic and within seconds you jumped through a portal and you landed among some trees. The fresh air was nice, it was cool and warm and perfect out. 

“I use to come here all the time,” Angel sighed, “It still smells the same,” There was a smile on his face, his cheeks were covered with freckles and a faint pink tint. He seemed like he was in heaven, or he was thinking of a simpler time when he was alive. 

“I’ve never seen him like that,” You could hear Charlie whisper to Vaggie, “Maybe this could help his redemption?” Vaggie only shrugged as you all started to walk along the paved paths. 

Angel walked ahead, he seemed like he wanted to enjoy this alone. Like a teacher ringing in their toddler students, Alastor kept an eye on everyone. Vaggie and Charlie walked a few paces ahead of you and Alastor. He had apologized again for bringing them along, giving you the impression that he didn’t want them here. 

“It’s okay,” You told Alastor, “They use to know me, right?” He nodded his head with a smile, “Then I want to get to know them again. Just like I am with you,” For some reason, you saw Alastor’s eyebrow twitch despite the smile growing on his face, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Jealousy boiled behind Alastor’s mask, he didn’t want to share you with them. He didn’t want to share you with anybody, for that matter. Simply because he knew your heart could be easily swayed because you were a human. He didn’t want anyone to steal you away, and everyone was competition at this point. Whether it be for your love, your attention, your desires, and your dreams, it didn’t matter. He wanted it all. He spoke in a calm tone, “That’s very nice of you, my dear,” He said as he fixed his gaze on Charlie. 

She was acting like a child in a toy store. Vaggie had to hold her hand and walk her along because she kept introducing herself to people, saying she was just a normal human that wanted to make some new friends. It was kind of funny honestly, watching her scare people with her overly aggressive friendliness. You also noticed that Angel had slipped away, you couldn’t see him and you were about to say something when Alastor stopped walking entirely. 

You looked up at him and watched as he started looking around. His eyes flashed back and forth behind his circular glasses, “Hm,” He hummed quietly. You began to notice that Vaggie and Charlie were wandering off, everyone was splitting up, “My dear,” Alastor said slowly. You gaze up at him and saw him close his eyes and smile, “I really do hate your cunt of a friend,” Then suddenly like a flash of lightening you felt time and space warp around you just as your heared the sound of the wind rushing up behind you. 

Everything moved too fast and you couldn’t focus on anything until time stopped. You realized Alastor had grabbed you and turned the both of you into a cloud smoke  while escaping the park. You reformed into solid mass in an alleyway a few blocks over. It was dark and empty as pigeons were startled away.

You felt like vomiting, your body couldn’t handle that kind of magic and your mind was spinning. It was so hard to process what had just happened. You almost fell to your knees but Alastor caught you under your arm and held you up, “What just happened?” You asked weakly, “What was that?” 

You asked way too many questions, too many to for your own good, “I saved us, if only for a few seconds,” Alastor said, “I warped us away from your friend before she could attack,” He then sighed with a shrug of his shoulders, “I hope she doesn’t go after the others, I didn’t think she’d be here that quick to be quite honest with you,”

“My friend?” You were confused, who was he talking about? Suddenly you heard a deep whomping sound that mimicked thunder in the sky, except it was quiet and close.

You saw before your very eyes as someone fazed in from several feet up in the air as the warped from the park. As soon as her feet slammed onto the ground, you felt your heart race then stop cold, Sage slowly lifted herself up from the ground as a gust of wind burst through the alleyway. 

It was enough the tangle your hair behind you and send cold chills along your skin, “I knew it,” Sage said, you could barely see the disappointment on her face as it mixed with a darker emotion you couldn’t figure out, “I didn’t want to believe it, and you even brought more here?” 

You already knew where this was going, “Sage, wait!” You step forward, leaving Alastor's side so you could approach your friend, but the wind picked up so fast that it prevented you from getting any closer, “Please! You don’t have to do this!”If only you could get her to listen. She had such a dark and evil look on her face like she was possessed by something greater than what you could understand. She quickly gave a wave of her hand and the wind pushed you away from Alastor and to the side of the alleyway. You were pinned to the brick wall and you couldn’t move, “He’s not even hurting anyone!” You yelled. All the while Alastor stood there, still, silent, a smile on his face and eyes growing larger as his grin turned more and more demonic.

“Listen to your friend, witch!” Alastor said, “I really don’t want to waste my time fighting you! Let’s both move on, shall we-”

“No!” Sage cut him off as the wind died down, you were still held back against the brick wall as if you were held back behind invisible bars, “I won’t let you get away this time!” This Time? 

You looked back to Alastor and saw Eon grow to life from his shadow. He walked out of the dark, smoke flowing from every one of his steps. His body was still made of smoke and you could see the transparency of his misty figure. He walked beyond Alastor, standing evenly between him and Sage.

His voice was low and demented, wicked and evil, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see you again, little one,” Empty holes for eyes grew in size and hunger as he stared Sage down.

“I’m not so little anymore,” She didn’t miss a single beat, “You will die here, today,” She suddenly swung her hand out and in a fit of crystals and sparks her rapier was summoned from thin air, “You should have killed me when you had the chance,”

Eon held his arms open as he smiled, “But I still managed to kill your father,” His words struck a nerve within Sage. She quickly caught the sword in her hands, holding it out as an extension of her arm, “Your father wasn’t strong enough to harness the power of that sword, child! What makes you think you can? Just hand it over, Lucifer wants it more than you need it!”

She took a deep breath in, proving Eon that he had spoken too soon. Suddenly a loud and terrifying crack of lightning exploded from the sword. The sheer power of it was enough the blow away Eon’s misty form and cause Alastor’s knees to wobble underneath him. As the smoke cleared away from Sage, you could see her in a fighting stance, the rapier glowing wildly with lighting and magic flowing through every inch of its blade. Electricity coursed through the rapier and continued to venture down Sage’s arm and into her body. A summoning circle formed under her feet, growing and glowing in size as she took one step forward to leap and thrust her blade towards Alastor.

#writes #writing #texts #10th #December #2019 #December 10th 2019 #x reader #reader insert #you #Hazbin #Hotel #Hazbin Hotel #Charlie #Vaggie #Alastor #Angel Dust #Husk #Niffty #HH Alastor #Hazbin Alastor #Alastor X reader #Alastor / you #Alastor headcanons #Hazbin Hotel Headcanons #HH headcanons #Hazbin headcanons #headcanons #my headcanons #Rebirth

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No.9

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Tony Stark

Caregivers: Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner

Title: Into the Dark, Part 3

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

Author’s Note: Read “Into the Dark: Part 1” and “Into the Dark: Part 2” before you read this! 1 was published on day 3 of Whumptober 2020 and 2 was published on day 6.

“Stop, please,” Tony begged. “I don’t want to.”

 Steve sat down on the floor so that he could make eye contact with the child. “Hi, Tony. Do you know who I am?”

 “I don’t want to wake up.”

 “Your brain is healing perfectly. You should wake up. Why don’t you want to?”

 “Because it’s safe in here. Out there, there are nightmares.”

 Steve patted the floor in front of him. “Why don’t you come out here and tell me about the nightmares.”

 The child hesitated, then complied. He scooched out on his stomach. He was holding a Captain America doll in his arm. Tony held it up and said, “I know you.”

 “That’s right. And I know you. We’re friends.”

 Child Tony frowned. “We were in a – a mine. Bad guys were chasing us. Clint got hurt.”

 “That happened a month ago, Tony. You’ve been in a coma for a month. We’d really like for you to wake up now.”

 Tony lowered his head. “People always want something from me. Mom wants me to do chores, dad wants me to learn how to build a motorcycle, my nanny wants me to dress up for dinner every night… Everybody wants to tell me what to do.”

 The room changed. The posters of various rock bands replaced most of the Captain America posters. Toys disappeared. More than one table was piled high with all sorts of metals and wires. Cap wasn’t sure if they were in the same room or a dorm room. The child turned into a teenage Tony.

 “People expect so much of me,” teenage Tony told Cap. “I’m supposed to be like my father – I’m supposed to be bigger and better than my father. I’m supposed to take over the company someday, but, do I want to?”

 Steve told himself to go with the flow. Be patient. Listen. “Do you want to?”

 Teenage Tony shrugged. “I just wanna party – kiss girls and drink and smoke weed and forget about all this. That would be so… Easy.”

 “Sometimes what’s easy isn’t what’s best,” said Cap quietly.

 “It makes the nightmares go away…”

 The room switched again. Cap stayed still while it swirled around him – making him dizzy. Tony now stood in his father’s office. A newspaper on the desk read, “Howard and Maria Stark Killed in Car Accident.” Cap stood up. Tony had his back to him. “You’re right,” he told him. “There are a lot of nightmares out in the world. But there’s a lot of good, too.”

 The room was replaced by a dark cave. Terrorists were waterboarding Tony to within an inch of his life. Cap had to remind himself that this was just a memory, a dream, to keep himself from wringing those assholes’ necks. He knew Tony had been kidnapped and made to build a missile in the desert, but he didn’t know he’d been tortured. More memories – more things Steve didn’t know about. The arc reactor almost killed him?

 “I don’t want to be here,” Tony said when they saw Whiplash. “Let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Run!”

 Tony literally did start running, and Steve chased after him into the darkness.

 And then they were in New York, a month ago, and Cap and Tony were watching Iron Man carry a nuclear missile through the portal. “Nooooo,” Tony groaned. “Not here…” There was nowhere to run. The scene followed Tony out into space where the suit wasn’t designed to go. The missile hit the mothership. Tony fell backwards. The portal shut. The portal shut, but dream Tony and dream Steve stayed on the other side, watching as the mothership exploded, only to reveal more Leviathan, more ships – some twice as big as the Chitauri’s. Some big enough to block out the suns.

 “That’s what’s coming next,” adult Tony said, gesturing at the larger ships. “I see them. In my dreams. There are bad guys out there in the universe we can’t begin to comprehend. There’s one – he’s in my head – I sometimes hear his voice, but I never see his face or know his name. But, it’s like we’re connected somehow. Like we’re cursed… He’s the endgame. And he knows MY name.”

 Steve put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “That’s why we need you to wake up. To help us fight what’s coming next.”

 Tony shook his head. “It’s too big,” he whispered. “Even for the Avengers.”

 “Nothing’s too big when we’re together,” Steve insisted. “You, me, Thor and the others… There’s nothing we can’t beat.”

 Tony finally looked at Steve – looked him straight in the eye with water in his own. “You sure about that?” he whispered.

 Steve added his other hand to Tony’s other shoulder. “Listen to me, Tony. Listen to me. These nightmares, they’re not going to go away if you hide in here forever. You have to confront them. You have to wake up. We need you. Sounds like the universe needs you, too.”

 Tony stared back, face pale and lax. “The universe is asking too much. What if – what if I can’t do whatever it is I’m meant to do?”

 Steve squeezed his shoulders. “I swear, whatever happens, I’ll be beside you the whole time.”

 The pair turned to look at the spaceships approaching them. “I’m building something,” Tony whispered. “Something to protect this planet. A suit of armor around the world called Ultron. Because if I can’t protect us, maybe it will…” Tears returned to Tony’s eyes. “You’ll be there when I wake up? You swear?”

 “I promise,” Steve assured him. “I’ll be right there.”

 “Ok… Maybe it won’t be so scary then.”

 “Wake up, Tony. Just wake up. Just wake up.”

 Outside in the “real world,” Bruce stood in front of the television watching the entire scene with a hand against his mouth. The doctors and nurses and police officers who had busted their way through the barricade stood beside him, equally mesmerized by the exchange between Steve and Tony.

 The screen went blank. And then a voice behind them said, “Bruce?”

 Everyone in the room whirled around to see a groggy Tony Stark sitting up in hospital bed. “What happened?” He turned his head and saw Steve lying unconscious beside him. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

 Bruce grinned, crossed the room, and stabbed a pre-prepared needled into Cap’s arm. Everyone watched as his life signs and brainwaves improved moment by moment. “I told you I only killed him a little bit,” Bruce said to the officers. “Had everything under control.” He gave Tony an I-mostly-had-it-under-control look.

 Steve woke with a start. “What happened?” he sputtered. “Tony?”

 Tony waved. “Were you in my brain?”

 “I think so. Do you remember what happened?”

 “No,” Tony lied. “Just that you were intruding, you jerk.”

 “I don’t remember anything, either,” Steve lied. They both looked at Bruce.

 “Yeah, I saw everything,” Banner admitted. “It was… You two were cute.”

 “Cute?” Steve and Tony sputtered.

 “Like a Hallmark movie.”

 Steve and Tony suddenly realized they were in the bed and Steve rolled out of it. “You’re ok, though?” Steve asked his friend.

 Tony shrugged. “Yeah, but I see that no one bothered to give me a haircut.”

 A month later. Steve knocked on the door to Tony’s office in the Tower. “Hey.”

 He caught Tony staring at a framed picture of his father on the edge of his desk. “Yeah. Hey. Have a seat.”

 Steve did. He hated sitting across from people at desks. No matter who it was, there was always an implied hierarchy. “Listen, uh, I have a confession.”

 “Oh?”

 “Last month. When Bruce did that mind meld thing… I remember. I remember everything that happened. Everything.”

 Tony nodded. “I do, too.” He cleared his throat. The pen in his right hand clicked over and over. “Never thanked you. I should do that now.”

 Steve waved his hand. “No need.”

 “There is a need,” Tony insisted. “You saved me back there. In the mine, in my mind… I’d still be in a coma if it weren’t for you.”

 Steve shook his head. “You would’ve found your way back to us one way or another.”

 “Thing is… I don’t think so,” Tony admitted. “I don’t think so at all.”

 The pair sat in a heavy silence for a minute. Then one corner of Steve’s mouth popped up. “You didn’t actually say thank you.”

 “Huh? Sure I did.”

 “No, you talked about thanking me, but you didn’t actually say it.”

 “I swear I did.”

 Cap put his hands up, surrendering. “Ok, ok. Whatever you say.”

 Tony squinted. “Well, just in case…” He sighed. “Thank you, Steve.”

 “You’re welcome, Tony.”

 The End

#Whumptober #Whumptober 2020 #Whumptober2020 #No.9 #No. 9 #Run #Avengers #Fic #FanFiction #Fan Fiction #whump #penpatronus #penpatronusaooo #coma #angst #bromance #stony #stony friendship #marvel #team feels #friendship #drama #protective steve #protective steve rogers #family #caregiving #fanfiction.net #archive of our own #mcu #iron man

[secret-engima]

Stand Strong Drabble: Shaking Hands

(Okay so this was less intentional angst and more my thoughts exploring, just a little, of how Amissa must have felt when she realized that she was going to KEEP JUMPING WORLDS. That nowhere was permanent. That nothing she did or was done to her could make it STOP and how that effects her even now, all these worlds later, even after the Astrals promised her safety and permanence here. Basically all hail the Angst)

...

     Blood, bullets, screaming. All around and in the air and inside her. Copper on her tongue and suffocating her lungs while Flames exploded out of her control in one last gurgling snarl of Fury-Betrayal-Rage-.

     Sun-warmed cobblestones under her fingers, too large clothes sliding off her shoulders as she stared down at fresh pink scars littering a prepubescent torso and cried. 

...

     Amissa opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Waited patiently for the feeling of lead tearing open her lungs to fade and the cold thrill down her spine of again-again-forever-again to fade. She counted the familiar cracks in her ceiling, breathed in and tasted the soft fragrance of her plants. Let them anchor her to the present —to the world, her last world— with the faint thrum of their life forces. She closed her eyes and counted to five, rolled out of her bed in resigned silence. She wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again, not after that. She knew better than to tempt the dreams.

     She slipped on the knee-length dressing gown her Kids had given her a few birthdays ago, padded across the cold floor and nudged open the doors to the rundown balcony attached to her room. The railing had crumbled years ago under the persistent assault of the tree growing up against the side of the building, but she had never needed the railing in the first place. Not when the branches were thick enough to climb and she had no fear of heights or falling to stop her from climbing up into the foliage in her nightclothes and dressing gown.

     Amissa swung up into the highest branches and looked out across the persistent gloom of little Galahd, busy as ever in its more nocturnally orientated schedule than the rest of Insomnia. She took in a deep breath of air that tasted like magic and the jungle, listened to the faint but persistent drums of some folk song being played a few blocks away, let the shadows hide her form from the view of the passing Kingsglaive darting by on the rooftops on their way to or from a shift.

     All very different from the bright sunshine and warm cobblestones of her dream.

     Good.

     She hated that dream.

     Amissa lifted her hands in front of her face, flexed her fingers, examining their shape, the scars on different places. Adult hands. Normal hands. Something that so many people had but so few appreciated. She pressed her hands over her sternum, pushed her fingers against certain old scars until they throbbed. Old scars she had carried for years and years, lifetime after lifetime. 

     Scars she had carried ever since the first time she’d died.

...

     Flame-soaked bullets rattling the air, the churning fear in Lambo’s eyes as he cradled I-Pin’s unmoving —but breathing, alive, just unconscious— form closer to him and ran away on her orders —her promise that she would be right behind them even though they knew that was a lie, that the backup she was sending him and Fūta to retrieve was just an excuse to get them and the unconscious I-Pin to safety—, leaving her to face the bullet rain alone.

     The taste of the ice cream on her tongue from what had been a pleasant trip out with the kids until an entire enemy famiglia crashed in. The furious haze of taking down more-more-more opponents until she couldn’t and she lay on the floor of that ice cream parlor, suffocating on her own blood and forcing her Flames out in one last attack to keep them from chasing after the children.

     Waking up on sun-baked cobblestones —not the cool tile of the parlor floor, not even the hot concrete pavement of the street outside—, suddenly a child rather than the adult she had finally had a chance to grow into —a chance ripped away twice already by worlds she had existed in one moment and then been torn from in a blink—. Pulling at her blood-soaked shirt until she could look down at the pink, rounded scars that looked like they were weeks or months old rather than minutes.

     Looking up at the concerned voices of the small woman and her massive husband as they approached what they thought was a child in oversized, bloody clothes and spoke in a language that was like German but not quite —another language, wrong language, wrong faces, fictional faces even when she’d been in a world she’d already once known as fictional—.

     Realizing she’d jumped again. Left everything behind again and sobbing into her shaking hands because if death couldn’t stop it…

     Then nothing would.

....

     “Màmag?” Amissa blinked back to the present —new world, different world, last world-she-hoped-she-prayed— to the sensation of someone gently clasping her trembling hands and pulling them away from the bullet scars she was obsessively rubbing at. She looked up into Luche’s worried expression and his flared nostrils and realized she was suppressing again.

     She relaxed her scent and shakily squeezed his much steadier hands, “I’m fine, Luche. You just got off duty, right? You should go sleep.”

     He shifted into a more comfortable position on the thick branch instead, his hands firmly wrapped around hers, as if holding on tight would disguise the way Amissa’s hands trembled-trembled-trembled —hands that had remained surgically steady even during the worst battles and most terrifying, daemon-filled nights— from the things in her head. His scent unfurled, warm like cinnamon and ticklish with just a whiff of garlic. Her eldest sniffed thoughtfully at her scent and then purred comfortingly as understanding dawned in his eyes —he had always seen her too well, just like he saw most people too well, saw them in the way that let him push their every button for good or ill—, “You’re not going to disappear, Màmag,” he whispered quietly, “and neither are any of us.”

     Amissa took a deep breath of air that tasted like jungle instead of concrete and gasoline and rubber like the rest of the city. She looked out over the home she had helped carve out of the refugee district that had started out as a total slum and listened to the heartbeat of all its people —the heartbeat of old-old magic whispering mine-safe-home-welcome-mine—. She thought of ancient beings promising that they would let her stay. That no matter what happened, so long as she did her best to care for the inhabitants of their world, they would keep her soul from being stolen away again. “This Star is the home of your body and soul for the rest of your life,” they had said, “and it will become your eternal resting place when your life passes, this we so swear.”

     She thought on that, clutched it internally like the promise it was but-. But…

...

     Rain and cold and confusion, a small town somewhere in Japan that didn’t look right somehow, a sick feeling as she realized it had happened again. An umbrella appearing over her head and a gentle, if slightly vacant voice saying, “Ara! You look so cold, sitting out here in the rain. Come inside, come on, come on, I made plenty supper for a guest-, oh you’re soaked- Tsu-kun! Tsu-kun get a towel out of the bathroom! Don’t worry about a thing, dear- no- no need to cry. You can stay in our home for as long as you like, I promise.”

...

     Too-big clothes that had fit perfectly moments ago, round, pink scars where there had been fatal open wounds. The clatter of concerned feet as two strangers-who-weren’t ran up to her and crouched down, “Oi- oi kid what are you doing out here in the middle of the street-. Holy-! You’re covered in blood, what happened to you? No let me see, I can help. Come on, come on let’s get you out of the street… there we go. Don’t be scared little one, we’re not going to hurt you, I’m Izumi, this is my husband Sig. Do you have parents we can call? … A home then? … Well. I suppose you’ll just have to stay here then. No, no, don’t argue! You’ll stay here as long as you need. What kind of housewife would I be if I abandoned a child to the streets?”

...

     She blinked herself free of the memories, met concerned blue eyes with her own mismatched gaze, and smiled “I know, mo baeg solas. I’m fine.”

     He stared back at her for several minutes, then smiled back and shifted to settle closer to her, so close their shoulders were touching and he could drag her hands into his lap as he rested his head on her shoulder. With a quiet voice he began to fill her in on the silly, inane things that had happened to him and the others on their last shift, mentioned the things that they wanted to do with her later when everyone was off duty and well rested. He spoke as if they were just relaxing in the tree for no reason other than to chat, and she responded with a relaxed scent and amusing gossip she’d picked up from the Citadel servants. Agreements to all the future plans and little habits that only meant the world to people who had known what it was like to be without those comforts for years.

     She laughed like she was calm and happy and fine.

     He politely pretended that he didn’t know she was lying.

     They both ignored his fingers twined around hers in his lap, as if that would make them stop shaking.

     They both pretended not to notice when it didn’t work.

#Melodies and Manuscripts #Secret Engima Rambles #Stand Strong verse #Amissa (OC) #luche lazarus #ffxv #there is something terrifying #not in the concept of immortality #but in constant displacement #in the knowing that no matter what you do or suffer #any moment it will all be snatched away #amissa has been to so many worlds #met and loved so many people #helped so many people #but in the end #she knew she would not stay #this was a flashback to her realizing that #her realizing that no matter what life she built or what world she saved #something would tear her away #make her do it all again #and yet she still loves #and fights #and saves #but by now #she can't quite believe that she won't wake up #and find it all gone again #and this time she thinks if that happens #she's going to just lie down and die #because she was promised no more #and if that is a lie