#i spent so long fiddling w how they looked just to blur them in the end lol

[a-tired-human-draws-junk]

Dog spelled backwards is god

#i spent so long on this actually #like a painful amount of time #but i had to make my bbg chuuya look good #ACTUALLY SO PROUD OF THIS ONE THO #my bsd brainrot is STRONG #been doodling the characters nonstop and chuuya is just so pretty and fun to draw #i actually used flower symbolism in the bg #but i had to blur the flowers so you cant even tell what they are anymore 😭 #if anybody is curious on the left is sunflowers and gladiolus and on the right is gladiolus and spider lillies #spider lillies are hard to draw #i spent so long fiddling w how they looked just to blur them in the end lol #anyways actual tags now #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #art #fanart #bsd fanart #chuuya corruption #idk what else to add #maybe #tw blood #cw blood #?

[cjtheghost-14]

Chocolate Covered Espresso Beans - Pidge Gunderson x Reader

Requests: None (but please give me some)

Notes: This came to me while I was eating chocolate covered espresso beans at 3:42 am last night, why do you ask?

Summary:  Your the White Paladin on team Voltron, and you also happen to be dating the little gremlin piloting the Green Lion. Pidge Gunderson. Lately, you haven’t been able to have much alone time, what, with saving the Universe and all. The only downtime the two of you have is at night, and the castle has run out of coffee. Your body can’t handle it, and you pass out as soon as you get in bed with your girlfriend. Pidge, on the other hand, doesn’t need coffee to stay awake. It’s not like she has a choice, anyhow. She’s always up late working on upgrades for the castle. You’ve been upset about the lack of contact the two of you have been having lately, and mad at yourself for always falling asleep. What are you meant to do without coffee? Then you remember something you smuggled aboard when you left Earth.

Warnings: Some good old fluff, being sleep deprived, stress, caffeine over load,  swearing

(sorry this took so long, blame my hectic life!)

Is it 11:00 pm already? How could that be right? You check your watch again, your vision beginning to blur from exhaustion. You take a sharp breath in, being able to just make out the time. It was, in fact, 11:00 pm. You rub your eyes in an attempt to just simply wipe the sleepiness away. Today was an unusually long day for the whole team. Zarkon apparently didn't know the meaning of sleep since his attacks have been relentless. Just today the team saved two planets. Although afterwards, the castle had been so severely damaged that we spent the rest of the day trying to fix it. Coran only let you stop a few minutes ago. He could’ve kept you longer, if not for that fact that you were practically falling asleep while re adjusting the teludav. You didn’t know if your girlfriend, Pidge, was even going to be in her room but you drag your feet in it’s direction anyway. She was always the busiest when it came to castle repairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts. After leaving your family, maybe some quality time with your depressing brain wasn’t the best idea. You have never felt more alone. Loneliness was corrosive, eating away at your heart until it left only a shell of a human. It could arguably be the worst feeling someone could feel. And ever since you left earth to become a paladin, that very feeling has taken over your already fragile mind. You depended on Pidge to pull you through, but you’ve barely been able to see her lately. Now, of course, you had the rest of the team beside you. You loved cooking with Hunk, listening to Coran’s weird stories and Allura’s beautiful ones. You loved spending time with Lance, he was your best friend after all, and you grew up with Shiro and Keith. Shiro was like a Dad to you, as Keith was like your brother. You loved them all with your whole heart. But those bonds paled in comparison to your feelings for Pidge. Your heart ached thinking about her. All you wanted to do was hold her in your arms. The thought made you walk faster, rounding the corner and not hesitating to barrel into Pidge’s messy room. You stumble over a box of electronics, your eyes landing on Pidge sitting on her bed, fiddling with something glowing. Your face breaks into a huge grin as you see her sitting there, her face bathed in blue light, glasses askew on her nose, pictures of you and her stuck on the wall behind her.

“Pidge!” You exclaim, surprised that she was actually here.

Her head shoots up, the lazy smile you love making its way onto her face. “Y/N!”

You run over to her, jumping on the bad, grabbing her face and slamming your lips onto hers. She laughs, pulling away slightly to look at you. “As much as I loved that, Y/N, I have work I need to do.”

“But I haven't seen you in days!” You say, your hopes sinking like lead.

“I know, love, but I really can’t relax now. Coran needs this by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, I’m almost done.” She says, turning her attention back to whatever she was working on.

You sigh, laying down. You can feel all of the anxiety from the past month weighing on your chest, crushing you with no hope of escape. You had hoped to talk to Pidge about it, but she was too busy, yet again. It wasn’t her fault, of course. It was Zarkons. But it didn't matter, you just needed someone to talk to. You knew that wasn't going to happen tonight though. When Pidge says she only needs a few minutes, she means she needs a few hours. Yet you decide to try to stay awake anyway, her presence was enough to make you feel better. But before you get to have any say in the matter, sleep grabs you by its claws, dragging you under.

***

You peel your eyes open, only to be met by complete darkness. You blink once, twice, trying to understand what happened. Then you realize, you fell asleep. You sit up suddenly, slamming your hand down on the mattress.

“Quiznak!”

You bring your watch up to your face, squinting, reading with difficulty the numbers 5:33 AM. Not again! How did you fall asleep again? Every rare time Pidge is actually in her room when you are, you end up falling asleep before you can talk to her. In a rush of adrenaline you bolt out of bed, maneuvering through the dark and into the hallway. Your footsteps echo through the castle as you round a corner into Lance’s room. You power off his white noise machine with a slam of your hands as you shout, “Lance!”

He bolts up, his eye mask sliding off of his face as he cries out in alarm. “I remember our bonding moment!” His head whips over to you, eyes widening. “O-oh! Y/N, w-what are you doing here?” He asks, voice rising an octave in embarrassment.

“I fell asleep!” You shout, throwing your hands in the air as you plop down on the bed next to him.

“That's why you woke me up?” He yells in exasperation, laying back down. “Go back to bed you freaking maniac” He says, kicking you off the bed with his foot. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“Too late for that.” You say sarcastically, standing up and grabbing his pillow from under his head, hitting him. “Get up!”

He yells out, bolting up, grabbing the pillow out of your hands. “I will shoot you!”

“Noted. But Lance, I fell asleep again. Now who knows when I’m going to even see Pidge again. Weeks? Months?” You sigh, sitting back down on the bed, staring at your hands.

Lance’s expression softens at the tone of your voice, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry Y/N, I know it's been tough. But don't we have coffee in the kitchen? I swear Hunk smuggled some in.”

“We’re out.” You say sadly, shaking your head. “I have no way to stay awake, bu-” Your eyes widen suddenly, an idea forming in your head. “Wait, Lance, you're a genius!”

“I know.” He says triumphantly, crossing his arms with a smug smile. “Wait, why am I a genius?”

You chuckle, getting up, beginning to walk out of the room as you explain your idea. “The coffee Hunk smuggled in might be gone, but I totally forgot about what I smuggled in. Chocolate covered espresso beans, my mom made them. God, it's perfect! Thanks for the idea Lance!”

“Anytime. And, oh, Y/N?” He calls out after you.

You stop before you reach the door, turning around. “Yeah?”

“About what I said… I absolutely do not remember Keith and I’s bonding moment that didn't even happen.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Keith you remember, he’ll be happy to hear.” You smirk, running out of the room.

“Y/N! I said I don't remember! Y/N come back!” Lance shouts, sticking his head out of the door. “Y/N!”

A Day Later

You skip into Pidge’s room, a new sense of energy engulfing you. To your delight, you find Pidge sitting on her bed.

“Hey, lovely.” You say, plopping down next to her.

“Hi, (Y/N)” She says, looking up momentarily from her project to kiss you on the cheek. “Sorry to do this again, but I’m gonna be busy for a while” She explains, frowning slightly, her nose scrunching up in the way that you adore.

“It's alright, I’ll be waiting.” You say, leaning back on the bed to watch her work. She smiles softly before turning her attention away. You watch her slim fingers for a moment, fiddling with another glowing object before you decide to pull out your small packet of chocolate covered espresso beans. Pidge stops for a moment, turning to look at you.

“Uh, whatcha got there?” She asks, peeking into the bag.

“Some chocolate covered espresso beans.” You say, smiling softly before popping one into your mouth.

“Oh.” She says, reaching a hand into the bag before stopping, looking up. “Can I have some?”

“Of course.”

She smiles brightly, taking a handful, popping a few in her mouth as well. “Ooh, these taste like the ones your mom makes. These will help me stay awake for this project, actually. Thanks love.”

“And these will also help me stay awake long enough to spend some time with you.” You say softly, your eyes drifting over her lips.

She smiles more, leaning forward and kissing you, sending an electric jolt through your body. This was just what you needed. You melt into the kiss, running your fingers through her soft hair. You were convinced this had to be what heaven felt like. And when you pull away, theres a lingering taste of chocolate covered espresso beans.

#pidge x reader #voltron #voltron imagines #pidge

[lovemeleo]

hii! could you write some o'knutzy fluff?

hey anon, hope you’re doing well and hope you enjoy this little bit of o’knutzy fluff! o’knutzy of course belongs to @lumosinlove.

***

Moving to a completely new part of the country is extremely difficult. Not only are you miles and miles from where you called home for so long, but you’re away from your friends and family too. That was so difficult for Leo. Being in a different climate was extremely hard as well. Gryffindor was extremely different from New Orleans, where the lowest they got during winter was the 40s.

One of the biggest struggles Leo had was the lack of plants. This probably sounded weird, coming from a hockey player but ever since he was little, Leo loved growing things. He loved getting to put a little seed in the ground, watch it grow, and take care of it. It was even better when he got to use what he grew afterward. Leo loved growing different types of peppers, tomatoes, but he loved just growing regular plants as well. Whenever he wasn’t working, in school, or practicing, he could be found in the garden, fingers deep in the fresh dirt.

Sadly when he moved to Gryffindor and in with Finn, he had to give up his garden. They didn’t have a yard, and even if they did, it would be hard to have anything outside with the rapidly changing weather. His mom had been taking care of his garden back home, sending pictures but it wasn’t the same.

After showing his boys his garden when they visited his home, the two began formulating a secret plan. It was obvious their boyfriend missed his garden, missed the plants. It started with lots of research and planning. Finn and Logan spent so much time on gardening websites, asking experts questions, months of looking through plants that would be able to live in their area.

“We need to make sure they’re the plants that can live within Gryffindor,” Finn murmured, biting at his thumbnail as they scrolled through a local greenery’s website. 

Logan’s hand came up, pulling the older boy’s hand from his mouth as he looked over the plants, “Stop biting, you’re gonna bleed. And we can do some pepper plants. Tomatoes. Maybe some garlic, that’d be cool.”

Nodding, Finn added the plants to their cart, “The planter we bought has two levels. So we could do one level with like food plants and one with just regular plants? We’ve got that Fiddle Leaf Fig or whatever, and a couple of others. I think that’ll be good.”

“With the food ones, I think we should just buy the seeds and leave spots open. Leo might want to plant them himself.” Logan said, adding some seed packets to their cart before they paid. 

Leo had left to go home that morning for his mom’s birthday, planning to be back Sunday morning. It was now Friday afternoon and the two boys planned to have Leo’s garden ready when he got home. 

Their order wasn’t ready until Saturday, so as soon as the greenery opened the next day, the boys went and picked it all up. After getting all the plants as well as the needed supplies to their apartment, Logan and Finn got to work. They had purchased an indoor garden that stacked with two shelves that were spread enough to let the bottom shelf still grow tall. 

It took them almost all day to get it all set up. For the food shelf, they filled it with dirt but left the seed packets to the side. The other shelf was filled with different plants that had purified the air as well as some that just looked nice. The boys set up next to their balcony window so it could get sunlight.

Finn let out a sigh of relief as they looked over their finished product, “Well, fuck that was a lot. Don’t know how Leo used to do that every day, especially in the heat. Probably all tan… and sweaty.” His face took on a bit of a dreamy look before Logan swatted at him.

“Now is not the time for that, Harz. We still gotta clean up before gets home tomorrow.” 

A whine was Finn’s only reply as they started to clean, getting the extra dirt off the floor and putting away the additional supplies in their storage closet. 

After a quick shower, both boys stumbled to their bedroom, crawling into bed.

“It’s weird sleeping in here when one of us is missing,” Logan mumbled, his face already pressed into Leo’s pillow. Finn nodded into his back, his head resting against the soft skin of Logan’s shoulder as he closed his eyes.

“He’ll be back tomorrow. Then we can show him the surprise,” Finn said softly, pressing a kiss to his neck as he pulled Logan closer. “Sleep now.”

The boys were up early the next morning, getting the house was ready. They had to be at the airport to pick Leo up at 10 am and wanted to make sure everything was in order when he got home.

“I’m gonna throw the laundry in the dryer and then we can head to the airport,” Logan yelled to Finn who was picking up the kitchen. And by picking up, he was mostly tossing out empty to-go containers. Not much cooking got done when Leo was gone.

As soon as the last container was tossed, Finn was pulling on his jacket, “Alright, let’s go. Don’t want our sunshine out in the cold for too long.” Logan was following not long after, grabbing his keys and wallet before they were out the door. 

Luckily for them, traffic wasn’t bad and they made it just in time; Leo walked out the airport doors as they pulled up.

“It’s unfair how fucking tan he is.” Finn huffed, a pout on his face but anyone could tell he loved how tan Leo got, especially when he went home.

A grin lit up Leo’s face as soon as he saw them, quickly walking to the car and climbing in the backseat, “Hello, mes amours. Missed you.” He said, quickly leaning forward to press a kiss to each of their cheeks as Logan headed home.

“We missed you more, mon soleil. How was your mom’s birthday?” Logan asked, unable to stop himself from glancing back at their boyfriend through the rearview mirror. Fuck, he really did look good.

Leo smiled, resting his head back on the headrest, “Good, very good. She sends her love to the both of you.” 

“But more to me, right? I’m her favorite, non?” Logan said with a grin, glancing at the redhead next to him.

Finn shoved him, almost causing Logan to swerve, “That was before she met you. Now she knows what a shit you are.”

The car was filled with the sounds of their scuffle as Logan tried to fight Finn back while also keeping their car on the road. Leo couldn’t help the fond smile that spread on his face as he watched the two of them. Yeah, he had missed this.

When they got home, Logan and Finn turned to look at him as they got to their front door. Leo raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them, “What are y’all looking at it? Sorta creepy just staring at me like that…”

“We have a surprise for you,” Finn said, unable to stop the happy bounce as Logan opened the door. And there it was. His new little garden right in front of their big balcony window.

“W-what?” Leo said, eyes wide as he took in the new addition to their apartment.

Logan bit his lip nervously, “So we saw how much you loved your garden in New Orleans, and we wanted you to have one here…”

“So we decided to make your own little garden. The ones that are already planted are just like regular plants? Some of them purify the air, but others we just got cause we thought they looked pretty.” Finn continued, his anxious excitement causing him to ramble a bit. “We left the other shelf empty because we figured you might want to plant the food ones yourself, but we got a bunch of seeds!”

Leo walked forward, his fingers running gently over the edge of the garden shelves, “I can’t believe you guys did this for me...” He felt his vision blur a bit as he looked up at his boys, wiping at the tears that were forming as his face split into a massive grin. “You guys are too good to me.”

Quickly pulling the other two for a group hug, Finn held the two of them close, “Well, Nutter Butter, you deserve all of the good things.”

All of the planning, research, and digging in the dirt was all so worth it to see that blinding smile on Leo’s face. They’d do it million times, again and again, to keep it there. 

#o’knutzy #leo knut #logan tremblay #finn o’hara #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #fluff #fic writing #fic writer #soft hockey boys #anon ask #anon prompt

[oh-for-fic-sake]

What will daddy Henry do if his little is sad because someone took something valuable from her?

So i wanst sure what to base this on entirely, so I'm going to go with something I went through over the last few weeks. I had a little bit of anon hate, which I deleted but the words stuck with me making me second guess everything i was working on and the confidence i had in my writing was taken away. so this is like a shameful self indulgent fantasy that im going to read to myself when ever im down.

Warnings: Pretty Personal For Me, Angsty, Fluffy, Self Doubt, Happy Ending, DDLG, Long!!

Tagging: @viking-raider @isitmine @tinabean37 @loserrlauraa  @msblkfire84 @henrythickcavill @plainbrunettelbl @dummiesshort @cynic-spirit @pandaxnienke  @two-unbeatable-beaters @libbymouse @wolfieash @eldarwen333 @princesssterek @mom2000aggie @blackestpinkworld 

(not sure who to tag in headcannons? these are the ones on my everything taglist)

Henry watched quietly with a frown as you sat down in the living room, eyes cast down at the tablet in front of you shoulders slumped.

"poppet what's wrong love?"

"n-nothing da-addy" you said with a small stutter

Henry shifted on his feet looking at you critically before coming over to you.

"nothing? So your sitting here almost in tears over nothing" he stated sceptically rounding the sofa sitting next to you.

"I'm not cryin" you sniffled trying to bite your lower lip to stop it from wobbling.

"not yet, but close enough poppet, hand it over" he said holding out his hand waiting for the tablet.

You whined not wanting to hand it to him at first but after a mini battle of wills you placed the colourful tablet in his hand.

Your head was cast down and you rubbed your eyes trying to catch the tears before they were noticeable.

"okay then, so this is your new story?" he asked scrolling through the page not reading it all but scanning the words, it was well written like always.

At the beginning of the pandemic he suggested you started a blog, and you had. A writing blog all full of fanfictions of... Him.

He didn't mind he actually love you doing something constructive, it kept you happy and busy which helped him because there wasn't many free days even in lockdown. He was working out, reading scripts or rearranging covid tests and travel.

Plus knew these smut blogs existed, even lurked on a few.

"y-yeah" you mumbled leaning on him hugging his arm scanning the page as he scrolled, you knew he wasn't reading everything maybe every few lines

"sooo what's the problem?" he said not finding an issue with the writing.

"i... I cant post it" you muttered looking down avoiding his gaze

"why?" he asked frowning not liking the defeated tone you had.

"j-just because..."

"ah I see, you have lost your confidence" he said quickly figuring out the problem, the downside to writing was everything was personal preference so tiny comments could knock your confidence.

In a way it was like his work, you put your heart and soul into it and then people don't like it? It was always a bummer. But he was used to it, you were not.

You nodded to him it was true you'd lost your confidence, you hadn't wrote for a while.

You couldn't seem to find the words to fit together anymore.

You felt silly, they were just a few mean comments, words from a nasty troll who didn't have anything better to do but it hurt, you poured your heart into every chapter and then for people to rip it to shreds? It stung.

"y-yes I... They didn't like it" you hummed fiddling with your fingers, drawing deep breaths trying not to cry

"and so what?" he said shrugging making you snap your gaze to him.

"wha?"

"it doesn't matter love, so a few people didn't like it, lots of people do, I love your stories"

"you have to your my daddy"

Henry huffed and shook his head at you ruffling your hair pressing a kiss to your head amused that you thought that's the only reason he liked your writing.

"don't stop writing just because of a few mean people nugget, it takes a lot of skill to write and a lot of bravery to share it. Your a brave talented little baby and I'm very proud of you"

He said cooing as that seemed to be the final push sending you over the edge making you burst out into tears.

He hugged you moving the tablet out of the way before pulling you to his lap, unbuttoning his shirt half way and squished you into his bare chest knowing you needed to feel him, not a shirt.

"shh its okay babygirl, your stories are wonderful, and you have fun writing them don't you baby?"

You nodded crying harder trying to get the words out but you just couldn't instead whining incoherently into him.

"and you enjoy making the little banners? And collect all your photos and gifs?"

"y-yeah but they di-dn't like it last time!"

"they don't have to like everything you do sweety"

"but I don't wana upset them!"

"did you do the warnings?" he asked knowing all about the do's and don'ts of posting your erotica.

You nodded whining you always did warnings on stuff to be safe.

"and make the little cut thingy you were telling me about?" again you nodded at him

"so your telling me they read the warnings, clicked to see it and then were mean?" you sniffled biting your lip trying to calm down but nodded to him humming quietly.

"well then it sounds to me like they were going out of their way, looking for someone to pick on" he said slowly rocking you slightly.

You fell quiet resting your head on his chest as he rubbed your back and patted your bottom soothing you.

"but what if they wasn't? What if my stories are bad- and encourage bad stuff!" you cried tucking yourself into him tighter.

"no-no you repeat after me, fiction is fiction" he said pulling you back wiping your tears waiting for you to say it out loud.

"fic-tion is f-fiction" you repeated

"I did everything I could to warn people"

"I-I did everyth-ing I could to w-warn people" he smiled at you as you drew a huge breath calming yourself down.

"and they are jealous because I'm an adorable, smart, funny kind and caring babygirl who has the cutest little peach butt in the world~" he said smirking at you from above holding you tightly to him pressing a kiss to your head.

"and they- daddy! Noo! I can't say that~" you gasped flushing as you realised what he had said

"oh yes you can because its the truth now come here let daddy bite that peach~" he growled playfully snapping his jaws at you.

"ah-no!" you screeched giggleing as he began tickling you all over wrestling you playfully trying to lean over and bite your but through your shorts.

He landed two solid bite's on your bottom before pulling back. Even though he had cheered you up he could see you were still doubting yourself.

Henry cast a glance to the tablet and smirked forming a plan that might just get you back on track. He was not going to let anyone steal your sparkle.

"come on you you've spent enough time writing go play in the garden with Kal"

Once you left henry got to work swiping up the tablet and going on your one drive seeing the meticulously organized notebooks, recognising a few by name.

A few weeks later Henry came in to the living room with a medium size box and plopped it on the sofa next to you.

"here we go nugget!" he said placing the gift next to you, they couldn't have come quickly enough, he had noticed you hadn't been writing at all, which upset him because he knew how much you loved it.

"what's that daddy?" you asked peering over the box not expecting any gifts.

"why don't you open it and find out?" he said sitting the other side of the box handing you a pair of scissors to slice the tape.

You moved slowly cutting it open and pulled the box open then froze.

"d-daddy? What thats my..." you trailed off pulling out the hard back books your banner on the front cover.

"your stories? Yes poppet, I realised that you were putting so much work into these things but could loose them, they are soo good that daddy wanted to read them over and over and now we can!" he said pleased with himself as you sat there shocked looking at the small collection of a5 books.

"but their- i dont..." you said happy but completely shocked, flicking through the pages, there were even a few comments in the margins from henry pointing out the pits he liked making your heart swell with pride.

Henry moved to stand behind you pressing a kiss to your hair.

"They are brilliant! So good I'm so proud of every thing you have achieved and I want them on our book shelf, in the living room" he said making you tear up.

"Really? You... You think their that good?" you whined eyes blurring with tears as you hugged the first book to your chest.

"absolutely poppet now go on, you do the honours~" he said pressing your shoulder urging you to go to the cube bookshelf.

You tiptoed over to it and slowly pulled out each little custom book with your banner on the front.

You sat down placing each one delicately on the shelf the five books each lining up with one another half filling the empty cube shelf.

"oh no baby look? The shelf isn't full is it? You know what that means" he said standing looking

"I-I've gotta write?" you asked sniffling weeping softly but this time because you were happy.

"exactly! You need to fill the whole shelf, so you keep up the good work and tell daddy when you finish your next story and we can keep adding to it!" he said cheerfully walking over handing you the tablet.

You smiled to yourself and looked to the books, your books- actual real life books on a shelf!

You grinned throwing yourself at him latching onto him feeling your confidence come back just from seeing how much you had done.

Suddenly the hate didn't matter, your daddy like them enough to make them into real life books! And even annotated them himself?

And if your writing was good enough for your daddy then it was good enough for you.

"daddy, can I have my screen time now, I want to write!!" you said jumping up and down on the spot excited to start your next chapter.

Henry grinned nodding deciding you can have as much screen time today as you wanted as long as it meant you wasn't giving up your new hobby.

#oh-for-fic-sake ask #oh for fic sake ask #oh for fic sake headcannon #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x little!reader

[notathingjustthere]

Not This Time

A/N: Honestly this feels incomplete and dry but I got frustrated arguing with myself lol. I wanted to post something today, because if I keep pushing it off I will never post anything so here it is. I’m trying.  

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 3525

Summary: Ransom oversteps a boundary and cannot seem to accept the consequence of you ignoring him permanently.

The rude interruption that graced your morning, would leave drained for the rest of your day. Your blurred eyes slowly zeroed in on the small scraps of confetti that would eventually cover the floors of your bedroom. The popping sound had woken you up in alarm, and the frown that graced your face said enough. 

The evil faces that turned up in your bedroom were painted in glee, whiles they wished you a happy birthday in unison. “And who’s cleaning that up?” you groaned, naturally reaching for the phone on your bedside table and squinting when the brightness assaults your eyes.

It was only 9:23 in the morning, the alarm was usually set for 11:30 on your weekdays, but you tended to snooze till 12:15. You weren't a morning person and your friend Lizzie knew this when she pleaded on your behalf, arguing that 10:00 was a far more reasonable time to wake you up. Mila, your other friend had disregarded the input of course. 

As of late your weekends were more often than not reserved for sleep, this one being no different. Monday would be a holiday so the next 72 hours were intended to be spent alone in your house, at least that had been the plan. You had been feeling more dull than usual, and even your restocked liquor cabinet failed to excite you. 

The brunch set up in your backyard was very much up to par with your tastes.  It felt pointless to change so you still wore your pajamas, after washing your face and complaining about the time. Your friends had gone all out for the small gathering, hiring quite the eye candy of servers. Each one waited at the table, ready to help you girls to your seats. 

Your eyes lingered on one of the men a bit longer than intended, and the unexpected wink sent your way forced your eyes to look elsewhere. Mila jerked at your elbow, before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at you. You had rolled your eyes before bursting out in laughter, enjoying the rest of your late morning meal with your two best girlies. It had been a while since you saw your friends, so you were glad, to say the least

Unlike you, Lizzie and Mila grew up accustomed to a lifestyle that only old money could provide. They didn't work as often as you did, which made it harder to fit into each other's schedules during the week. You did not grow up poor per se, but when compared to your friends, you could have been perceived that way. Your mother was a professor at Brown University, a fairly successful woman you thought. 

You had found your own definition for success, living comfortably and content with yourself,  as you often described it. Working in a high-level position for a growing green energy company, you took pride in your resilience. Many of your years were filled with uncertainties but finally, you had made something of yourself. The full ride to Harvard was where you met Lizzie and Mila, never expecting to develop a long-lasting relationship.

The cell you kept for personal use remained ignored after Lizzie dragged you out of bed that morning. The ringer was often placed on silent, resulting in poor communication habits with your friends. It was noon before you thought to check your device, the notification centre being flooded with messages and alerts. 

Most you assumed were birthday wishes from people you hardly talked to anymore and some that you were only associated with because of status. They meant very little to you, but the sham thankful replies you sent were only to keep face. 

A particular contact had occupied your thoughts for the past two weeks. The spam of messages you left open yet unread grew steadily. You were intent on ignoring him for as long as you felt necessary. He was not important enough to ruin your mood this weekend, or so you thought.

The last bits of sparkling wine settled nicely in your stomach, your chest feeling warm and tingly. You appreciated the quality time spent with your friends but it was time to resume back to your initial plan for the weekend. Lizzie and Mila had their own plans and intended to make your day as lively as possible. On any other day, you’d be down for a good time, but as of late you felt out the mix.

For gifts, Mila had opted for this beautiful emerald green bag from Bulgar. The serpent’s head-shaped clasp suited your corporate persona, which she admired. Lizzie gifted you a pair of Prada boots that she felt were suitable to your tastes. 

It was 6 pm when the two informed you of the private room they reserved at a club. Lizzie’s boyfriend would attend, including two other guests, you were well acquainted with. You weren’t interested at first but eventually caved in at the last minute thought of letting loose and having some fun. 

Your ringer silenced another phone call, it was his 86th one since last Friday. You were impressed with his persistence, figuring he would have given up by now. Newer messages had poured in, none of which you spared a glance until the last message he sent in.

“Fine, if this is how you wanna play it” you read. 

The spat you had gotten into with Ransom, had been your last straw. He was quite the specimen, but a prick at that. The trust fund baby had been spoiled his whole life, and couldn’t seem to handle not having his way for once. 

The relationship that brewed between you both could only be described as complicated. It had taken a lot to manage and handle the baggage he brought with him, but you both had balanced each other for a period of time. Now, you were bent on moving on, trying to convince yourself that you were over him, as he also tried to.

It was at Mila’s charity event that you would officially meet the douche, having only heard of him before. The free champagne helped soothe your nerves that night, as you often would be riddled in anxiety. It was an art exhibition, and you’d gotten roped into a conversation with the famous Harlan Thrombey, discussing a painting you knew a thing or two about. 

That was when Ransom had walked in, interrupting the conversation. You had turned away, fiddling with your glass as you patiently waited for them to finish whatever it was they were briefly discussing. Harlan turned to you, and introduced Ransom, before announcing that he would have to leave you shortly to give a speech. 

At the time Ransom didn't really catch your eye, you avoided making eye contact as you usually would with new people and had missed the way he looked at you. He wanted you in his bed for the night, and you had indulged him likewise. You were gone by morning that day, never being one to wait for the usual awkward boot out. 

Maybe you didn't notice it at first, but his face had begun popping up at your usual spots more and more. You’d run into him at a coffee shop where you often scheduled meetings with prospective clients. There were a couple more hookups here and there before he asked you out to dinner five months down the line. That was almost three years ago. 

Neither one of you talked about making the relationship official until you initiated the conversation. You had been on multiple dates, including the occasional family dinners his family hosted. You never did like attending them, but Ransom had wanted you at his side. You both spent a lot of time at each other's homes, and soon enough it wasn't just for the sex. 

He’d thought of you as his home and maybe you did too. On most days you preferred to have your space, but as of late you missed his not-so-subtle touches whenever he’d pass by you in the kitchen. 

That didn't seem to matter now, because you would never admit it out loud or to yourself. Ransom on the other hand loved being in close contact most of the time. As much as he denied the fact, you’d let him pretend the cuddling sessions during movie nights were due to the lack of space on the couch. 

You never got accustomed to Ransom’s lavish tastes. He’d been quite the spender on gifts and more times than not you insisted that he return most of his purchases. You could appreciate expensive things, but much rather make those purchases yourself. 

He only ever did demand that you keep a particular gift, one you’d almost given back after learning of its monetary value. The personalised bracelet with his and your initials on it had been your favourite. Not once did you ever take it off, and even now you still wore it after two weeks of ignoring him. 

It all started when your boss confronted you about an offer he didn’t expect you to decline so quickly. He insisted that you take your time to reconsider, and you had been confused, having never heard anything about it. You were suspicious of Ransom, almost immediately, but thought to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

At times he could be controlling, something you’d catch once in a while when you paid attention. There would be discussions about it, but oftentimes things got brushed aside as petty jealousy or mindless over-protectiveness. This time, you couldn’t and wouldn't let it slide. 

It was at dinner time when you decided to break out your thoughts and bring something up. You wanted to avoid confrontation, knowing he’d probably try to lie to your face or react in a way you were not ready to handle. He asked about your day as he usually would, and you took the chance to talk about what your boss mentioned, unaccusing of course. 

He played along with your confusion for a while, looking unimpressed as you went on. The contract would require your stay in China for two years, assisting in project management at the company’s main plant. Two years seemed long, and you could understand why the news was not exactly exciting. You had merely mentioned that you were considering the offer when he cut you off.  

“Well that's stupid, is this some kind of joke?” Ransom's response was expected but you had hoped he would show remorse more if anything. You frowned, arms folded when asking him to elaborate on how he was feeling

“I mean, you're gonna leave me for two years? What am I supposed to do, just wait for you?” 

“I would hope so, considering all that we have been through to make this work?”

“Come on, really?” he chuckled darkly, “You think I would wait?” 

“Why are you acting like this? I thought at the very least you'd pretend to be happy for me before reacting this way” you moved your hands in a way that emphasised your point. 

“Oh like you don't know that I declined the offer.”

The sigh you let out was deep. There it was, the confession you wanted out of him. You hated being lied to more than anything and were very disappointed he played along with your little act for even just a little bit. 

“I mean, but what did you expect? That I wouldn't find out about something as important to me as this?” 

“So what, I’m not as important?” he tried changing the topic.

“You know that's not what I mean, and you don't get to play the victim here. I-i don't get it with you, I’m always understanding, so why can't you return the favour”

He turned silent, which you thought was disappointing considering he had so much to say before. The anger you were trying so hard to settle down began to rear its ugly head.  It was a couple more minutes of silence before he opened his mouth to say something.

“You didn't think I’d find it suspicious that your boss was transferring with you?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at that. Jonathan had not mentioned anything like that and you knew Ransom didn't like him, especially after a particular encounter at your office. 

He had shown up at your job unannounced a year ago to surprise you for your birthday when he saw the arrangements of flowers that decorated your office. Ransom did not look impressed at the scene, and knowing he would never partake in such a gesture you ruled him out. It wasn't until you noticed the card attached to one of the flowers that read out your boss's name.

“Great Job closing that deal, and a happy birthday! - Jonathan.”  

As if on queue the head of the department walked in with smiles, asking if you enjoyed his gifts. He rambled on about not knowing what you would like, so figured he’d get a little bit of everything.  

“She hates flowers,” Ransom had cut in without hesitation, your eyes widening at his remark. Leave it to him to make the inappropriate gesture from your boss even more awkward. 

“He’s not wrong, but I really do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you” you had given him a kind smile, trying to save face. You couldn't remember what happened after that except Jonathan leaving and your boyfriend silently fuming as he walked over to your window. 

You turned your attention to him, raising an eyebrow as if to question his behaviour. You were not angry with him, this was a rare moment where you actually appreciated his blunt tongue. Hopefully, your boss would now relent in his not-so-subtle advances. 

But that was a long time ago, and frankly, it didn't matter because he was focused on the wrong thing at hand. He had invaded your privacy then lied about it by not saying anything. 

“First of all I got this promotion because I worked my fucking ass off, I don't know what Johnathan has to do with anything.” you decided to defend yourself. Whatever it was that he was insinuating didn't matter because you weren't having it.

“Yeah, you fucking worked your ass off alright. You've got him so whipped that he even gets you flowers” 

You gasped, and it wasn't so much that the words hurt you, but rather the fact that he’d been clearly harbouring this since that day. There was not much you could do about unsolicited gifts that you never accepted in the first place. Besides, after Ransom’s visit, your boss had ceased all efforts. 

“Do you actually hear how insane that sounds? What the fuck was I supposed to do about that?” You reasoned, the calmness in your voice was long gone. 

“Quit” he was so arrogant and entitled. 

You scoffed,  “Well I’m sorry, but some of us actually have to work, to earn a living” the tone you took to, spoke well for you.

“I can take care of you, you know that” 

“That sounds nice and all, but I can’t depend on a man who’s never worked a day in his life.” There it was again, the silence.  

“You don't even seem sorry, and you've yet to apologize” the disappointment was evident on your face. 

He rubbed his hands over his face, his nose flaring up in annoyance, “I did what was best for us”  

“No, you did what was best for you” you started but had lost your train of thought. 

“You still don't fucking get it, do you? It's one thing to not want me to leave, but it's completely different when you think that you get to make decisions for me.” the words spewed out. 

“I'm tired of trying to reason with you Ransom, okay? We are done”

It wasn't even a second after, before he grabbed your arm, tightening his hold on you and yanking you towards him. “We are not done until I say we are” 

For a moment there he scared you, he had never put his hands on you like that, at least not outside the bedroom. Your stance did not falter when you yanked your arm away from him “Don't you ever put your hands on me again.”  

The initial shock had long subsided when you decided to speak for the last time. “Let me remind you, that you're that one that begs me back every single time! But not this time, I'm tired of you. T-tired of your shit, the jealousy, childishness, everything!” Those were your last words before your tearducts gave up. 

It was the first time he had ever seen you actually cry. Occasionally he would witness you shed a tear or two, like when you’d receive a wrong order of what you wanted, or something equally as petty.

 He tried to come closer in an attempt to comfort you, but you pushed him aside then turned away. He decided to walk out then and there, leaving you to deal with your own sorrows. 

You remember that day so vividly, and each time the memory replayed you did something to distract yourself. Much like you were doing right now at the club with your friends. The boost that alcohol gave you, left you chatty but numb. 

The buzz had you going for a while, completely indulged in a game of pool with Mila who was effortlessly schooling you. She could not let you win, not even on your birthday. It was the commotion at the door that drew your attention to Ransom arguing with the security guard and Lizzie's boyfriend, Dan. 

“Look dude, she doesn't want you here. Come on don't make this difficult” you didn't realise it but you had made your way towards Dan’s voice, not really processing what was going on. It was the sound of Ransom's knuckles punching Dan in his nose that woke you up from your little daze.  

“I said get out of my way” Ransom tried to push his way through.

“Ransom” you yelled out.

His head turned towards you rushing to Dan who held his nose up in pain. You apologised profusely as you checked his injury, thankful that nothing was broken or bleeding. You turned to your ex-boyfriend annoyed, ready to talk his ear off until you remembered you didn't care anymore.

“If you think this is how to get me to talk to you in good grace, then I don't know what to tell you,” you said, pointing behind you at Dan and Lizzie.

“What do you want? ”You sighed frustrated, after signalling the security guard off. He really wasn't making this easy for you. His hands had twitched before when you held Dan’s face to inspect his nose. He knew better than to make things any worse than it already was. 

“Look, so maybe, I have stuff to work on, and maybe we can both work on this”

“Mmm, you think so?” you asked rhetorically. It took him two weeks to come to this conclusion, and you noted how he did not start with apologies. He wanted to skip out on the guilt, but you wouldn't let him.

He tried to get closer to you, wanting to feel you against him and to reminisce in the sweet warmth he missed so much. You allowed him to, and for a moment you revelled in his familiar body heat as well, ignoring everything else around you. You let go of him after a while, distancing yourself to make it easier on you.

It took a lot to keep your composure, a part of you wanting him back but knew much wouldn’t change if you did. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to relay whatever decision you had made. You were right about one thing, Ransom would always beg you back. Never-ending the cycle of broken boundaries, possessiveness, and jealousy. 

“Look Ransom, I couldn’t give you another chance even if I wanted to” you sighed loudly. “I-it goes against my principles, and that's all I have right now. So please, just leave.” you pleaded.

Ransom’s eyes hardened, he wouldn’t back down. This time you noticed the speck of regret in his eyes, but to damn with his jealousy. He didn't want this to end, and he hadn’t meant for it to. 

“Come on, don't be so stubborn, Y/N. I love you, is that what you want me to say? I’ll do anything just say the word” 

You smiled with hurt in your eyes as you looked at him. The words didn't mean much to you when his actions suggested otherwise. It was the insincere note in his tone that made it easier, but maybe he had meant it. His eyes were much more expressive than his words could be, not that it changed anything.

You simply shook your head no, looking down at your hands and playing with your fingers. 

“No, you don't” 

The cheap trick at making amends, would not coax your forgiveness, not this time.

Thank you for reading :) 

A/N: My  sister requested that I put her in the credits for her lil two cents in some of the dialogue, so here she goes. 

#ransom thrombey x reader #ransome drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #Knives Out #ransom x y/n #ransom thrombrey #ransom thrombey fanfic #angst #breakup

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Haunted

Scoop of the day is a writing challenge with a difference. Each fic is built from a set of (for the most part) randomly generated prompts and could be about just about anything, from breakups to smut to found family. Let’s enjoy some ice cream 🍦!

More info about the challenge here

Pairing: Tamaki Amajiki x Reader

Rating: Gen

Flavour(s): Milk Chocolate, Cherry Chocolate Chip

Prompt: 16, Panic, 30, Fulfilment

You don’t believe in ghosts, so who is it that’s following you?

~~~~

First things first, you weren’t a paranoid sort of person.

You believed in coincidences and twists of fate.

You were also, however, starting to believe in ghosts.

It all started when you moved into the dormitories after summer break. As strange as it sounded, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. You lost track of how many times the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, only to look over your shoulder and find no one there. Sometimes, when you were alone in the kitchen, you were sure you heard someone whispering your name.

The other girls in your class blamed it on stress. After a while, so did you.

You took to making chamomile tea and listening to whale sounds before bed. You found meditation and yoga exercises on the internet and tested them out. It worked for a time.

The moment you returned to classes, however, it started all over again. You broke out in goosebumps as you swept the floors after class; heard footsteps behind you, only to find no one there.

You were sure you were going crazy. How else could you explain such a strange turn of events?

It was a mystery and one that only got worse over time.

One afternoon, you pulled a note from your shoe locker. You didn’t recognise the handwriting, though the message was all too clear: 

Meet me on the roof after school. 

Under ordinary circumstances, you might not have reacted in the way you did. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been sleeping and your reaction was one of fear. Someone wanted to fight you up there. It was the only explanation that made any sense to your nervous mind.

You spent the rest of the day trembling, worrying who you had angered enough to warrant such a threat. Had this person been stalking you the entire time, preparing for this moment?

You were so overtaken by your own nervous mind that you answered questions wrong in class. You were off your game during physical ed and even walked into doors. By the time the last bell sounded, it was like a funeral march.

You had spent the day deliberating the best plan of action. Should you confront the mystery person or avoid them? If you avoided them, would it only make things worse?

You hugged your books to your chest as you passed the stairwell, so focused on your shoes that you ended up walking straight into another passer by.

“S-s-sorry!” you cried out, jumping back, heat flooding your cheeks when you realised who you had crashed into. “Oh, Amajiki, I’m so sorry!”

Of course you’d crash into him now of all times, when you were terrified out of your wits. You’d fiddled with your hair and clothes so much that you looked more than a little scruffy, and you’d spent so long crying in the bathrooms and splashing your face that your professor had gone so far as to take you to one side and ask if you were sick.

Tamaki rubbed the spot on his chest where you’d crashed into him, taking in your bedraggled appearance.

“A-are you okay, (Name)?” he said, eyes wide with worry.

“I’m fine,” you said, though you didn’t believe it. “I’m... I’m...”

You’d had a crush on Tamaki ever since your first day at UA. Unfortunately, it seemed that every time you spoke to him, you ended up embarrassing yourself somehow and today was no exception.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes blurred with tears; hours of nerves and sleepless nights catching up with you all at once.

“I’m fine,” you said, reaching up to wipe them off on your sleeve, “I’m okay, really.”

Tamaki looked like a deer in the headlights at the best of times, but now he looked lost at sea, stammering out noises and looking round the corridor for help, reaching out to touch your shoulder, though chickening out every time. 

“U-u-uh, (Name), w-what’s-”

“They’re going to fight me,” you wailed.

“Who? Who’s going to...”

You pullled the note out of your pocket and unfolded it for him to see, hands shaking from nerves as he read its contents.

“They want to see me on the roof,” you said. “I don’t know what I’ve done to upset them.”

“I-I’m sure that’s not it,” said Tamaki, “m-maybe they just want to...to...uh.”

He didn’t finish his sentence, instead blushing brightly.

“Will you come with me?” you sniffled. “I’m scared to go alone.”

"I-I’ll come with you,” he said. “I’ll s-sit with you until they get there.”

“You will?”

You would almost certainly be embarrassed about this later. Of all of the pretexts for being alone with your crush, you couldn’t have ever predicted this one. Not only were you going to be alone with him, you were going to be alone with him in floods of tears, terrified someone was going to throw you off the roof or worse.

You were still wiping away your tears as you climbed the stairs, Tamaki several steps in front. You were close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. You could have reached for his hand if you wanted to, though none of that came to mind until much later. All you could think about was every time you had felt eyes burning on the back of your neck; every time you had heard footsteps behind you and found nobody there. You were too shy to go out of your way to antagonise people. You couldn’t fathom why someone would hold enough of a grudge to call you out like this.

You didn’t realise you’d been holding your breath until you reached the roof and gulped in the cool air. Tamaki held the door open for you, glancing around the roof as you stepped through.

“L-look,” he said with a smile, “there’s no one here.”

"They’re late,” you said in disbelief. “I never thought they’d be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Tamaki, pointing towards a low wall. “C’mon, I have some snacks. Let’s, um, let’s wait here for them.”

You nodded and followed him to the wall, slowly seating yourself beside him.

“Here,” he said, holding out a pack of chips, “help yourself.”

You accepted his offer, peering out at the skyline as you chewed. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have been excited at the prospect of sitting with Tamaki like this, but right now you were too anxious to enjoy it.

“I’m sorry,” you said with a sigh. “You’ve probably got thousands of other things to do.”

“It’s no b-bother.”

Five minutes passed, then ten. Before you knew it, you’d been sitting there for half an hour with no sign of anyone else.

“I can’t believe they didn’t even show up,” you sniffled, getting up. “I’m so sorry... I’m...”

“I’m sure they d-didn’t want to fight you,” said Tamaki with a smile. “I don’t think anyone would want to fight you.”

“Maybe not,” you said, surprised at how disappointed you actually were. 

You had been afraid, that much was true, but you’d also hoped to find answers. Maybe you would find some clue to their identity; a reason for their actions over the past few months. Surely once you found out who they were, you wouldn’t need chamomile tea or whale music. You wouldn’t need to feel so nervous once you knew the reason why.

You didn’t know why you had expected it to be so straight forward.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to Tamaki with a smile, “for staying with me. I was really scared...and...”

“It’s no b-bother,” he said again, a dusting of pink across his cheeks. “I’ll wait here a little while... keep an eye out in case anyone comes.”

“You’re such a good friend, Amajiki,” you said, feeling more than a little bit sheepish. “I’ll... I’ll make you something delicious for dinner today!”

He nodded at that, watching as you sprinted across the roof and back out of the building, going over ingredients in your head. You’d observed him enough to know the kinds of foods he liked.

He leaned back in his seat as you disappeared from view, sighing as the evening breeze ruffled through his hair.

He squeezed his hands into fists, cursing his own anxiousness.

He knew exactly who had written the note; whose footsteps you kept hearing.

He knew it wasn’t a ghost or anything remotely malicious, just the actions of someone trying to find the nerve to confess. Someone who, much like you, had had a crush for most of their time at UA.

“Friends... huh.”

#bnha #amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #scoop of the day

[socialwriter]

If I Die Young

**gif by @somebodylikeaguardianangel​**

Pairing: John B Routledge x Female! Reader

TW: Angst (duh), death, hospitals, not eating, fainting/passing out, near death experience, grief, sadness

1.4k+

Based off of the song If I Die Young

Series masterlist

A/n: Here it is, the first chapter of my glee song fic sereis! A huge thank you to @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ for reading this through and encouraging me to post this, ily boo <3

The sharp knife of a short life,

Well, I've had just enough time

The pain was agonizing, all encompassing. It drowned out the sounds of the rain pounding down, drowns out the sounds of Kiara and Pope’s tears, JJ’s screams. He’s gone. John b’s gone, lost at sea because some stupid cops that didn’t care about him chased him out there for no good reason. He was innocent, but because he was just a pogue and just a teenager, no one believed him when it mattered. The hurt didn’t leave you. Not when you were taken away from what was now a crime scene. Not when you arrived at the chateau, glaringly empty. Not when you went to bed, enveloping yourself in sheets that still faintly smelled like him. You were too hurt, too broken, left behind by the only boy you had ever loved. 

And I'll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom

I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger

You all had promised each other that you wouldn’t wear black to the funeral. The color was too dark, too real. It represented too much for the four of you to handle, so you had agreed to brighter and happier colors. Which is why you were in the bathroom of the chateau, smoothing out the wrinkles in the white dress you wore. It hung loosely on your body, making you look like even more of a shell of your former self. Your eyes were sunken in and red from all the crying and lack of sleep, unable to rest without the soothing lullaby of John B’s heartbeat. You looked much thinner than you remembered, probably from the lack of food the past week. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat anything or care for yourself. You did it for him before, not wanting to worry him, but now what was the point? You fiddled with the rings on your finger, stopping when you feel the cold metal on your ring finger. You hold your hand out in front of you, smiling sadly at the small green jewel.

It had been three weeks since you had had a proper date night, or really spent any time, with your boyfriend John B and you were completely and thoroughly pissed off. He’d been avoiding your calls, texts, and barely spoke a word to you when he got home after long days out. None of the other pogues would tell you what was up and frankly you were fed up with it. So, instead of getting dressed up for the date John B had told you about earlier in the day, you sat around moping in sweats and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Hey babe are you ready to g- why aren’t you getting ready?” John B’s voice rang out through the chateau, causing you to pull your knees up to your chest, staring at the ground. John B’s shoulders fall when he sees your demeanor, approaching you slowly. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug your shoulders at him, letting out a deep sigh. “You cheating on me or somethin’?” You mumble, tears filling your eyes as soon as you say the words out loud.

“W-what? No, I’m not why would you even think something like that,” John B says instantly, sitting next to you on the couch and placing a gentle hand on your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

“Well I mean, you’ve been avoiding me the past couple of weeks and no one’s telling me anything so what else am I supposed to think?” You ask him, your voice raising slightly in irritation.

John B makes an ‘o’ with his lips, suddenly connecting all the dots. “I’ve been working a lot of overtime, for the money.” 

You scoff, pulling away from him. “Cut the crap JB, we get by fine without you working so much.”

John B sighs, fishing something out of his back pocket. “Well I mean, I was hoping that I could give this to you in a more romantic way, but here.” He hands you a small box containing a small ring with a little green gem on top. You gasp as soon as you see the present, easily the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given you. “What is this?” You ask breathlessly.

“A promise ring, like a representation of our love. It sounded a lot better when Kie explained it to me..” John B trailed off, suddenly nervous that you wouldn’t like the present or think it was stupid. 

“JB I love it,” you whisper, a small smile gracing your lips. He instantly perks up, grinning at you. “Yea?”

You nod, slipping the ring on your finger. “Thank you JB,” you say, pressing a small kiss against his lips.

“Anything for you princess.”

I've never known the lovin' of a man

But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

There's a boy here in town says he'll love me forever

Who would have thought forever could be severed

Your home life wasn’t the best. You were a pogue, living alone after your mother had left you for some kook. You never knew your father, never got to experience that love. The only love you experienced was what you had with John b. And now that too had been taken away from you, the world playing yet another cruel trick on you. That promise ring meant that the two of you would love each other for the rest of your lives, what felt like forever. Apparently forever isn’t very long at all. Love wasn’t as strong as you had once thought it was, because it was able to be completely shattered by life, or rather the ending of one. You had never known what love was before John B came into your life, and now that he was gone, you feared that you would never experience love again. 

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls

What I never did is done

The four of you all stood looking over the marsh, grieving the one person that had kept you all together. None of you knew how to handle this, how to cope. You couldn’t look out for one another because each of you were falling apart on your own. Your mind wandered to what could have been. The kisses you never gave him, too shy or fearful of rejection. The words you never said, emotions getting in the way. It all felt silly and stupid. Why hadn’t you simply done everything you wanted with John B while you still had the chance? All the what ifs crushed you, made you feel like you couldn’t breathe and your vision blur, until eventually everything just went dark.

The ballad of a dove

Go with peace and love

Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket

Save 'em for a time when your really gonna need 'em oh

Pope caught you before you hit the ground, instantly in a frenzy. “Guys she’s barely breathing.”

Both Kie and JJ turned to look at your all but lifeless form, panic in their eyes. “Shit she- what do we do?” JJ’s frantic voice echoed throughout the marsh, only increasing the tension and worry in the environment. Eventually, despite the money it would cost, the three of them were speeding off to the hospital, trying their best to keep you breathing and comfortable. As soon as Kie pulled into the hospital, JJ slammed the car door open, picking you up and running inside with your limp body in his arms, Kie and Pope not far behind him. Doctors and nurses were all over you in a matter of seconds, pushing the three pogues away whenever they tried to see what exactly was happening to their best friend. The situation felt eerily similar, the painful events that lead to John B’s death still fresh in their minds. All they could do was stand there, wondering if they were going to lose yet another friend. There were no more tears left to cry, all of them already spent on John B. 

The ringing of a phone pulls them out of their stupor. “Who’s damn phone is that?” Kie questions aloud, prompting JJ to pull the buzzing device out of his pocket. 

“Mine.” He mumbles before answering the call. His eyes widen as soon as he hears the voice on the other end, earning questioning glances from both Pope and Kie. 

“John B?”

Taglist:  @thelocalpogue​ @rae131415​ @goldenhanna​ @scandalousfemale​ @obx-direction-sos​ @rafecameron​ @paradigmax​ @anonymous0writer​ @x-lulu​ @futuretaxcheat​ @olsenholic​ @jjaybank​ @starlightstarkey​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @Theyrealldruggy @pit-zuh​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @simonsbluee​ @outerbongs​ @stfukie​ @yxseminx​ @ilovejjmaybank​ @abbiesthings​ @captain-molls-of-the-small-world @kikinuke2​ @maddymfperez​ @pogue-writings​ @rudths​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @strangerthanfanfiction713​ @jj-iz-bae​ @sguymon21​ @kookkyra​ @wallflowercal​ @maybanksbaby​ @jiaraendgame​ @copper-boom​ @sunwardsss​ @starksweasley​ @trashmouthpogues​ @allielozoya​ @vindictive-hearts​ @kaitieskidmore1​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @diverrdown​ @lynniep @apoguecalledjj​ @dancer0614 @jjtheangel​ @deathcompass​ @dpaccione​  @canibeoneofthepogues​ @arianabrashierstuff​  @bolaurel​  @outerbanksbro​  @beth-winchester21​  @ifilwtmfc​

Frenz: @sortagaysortahigh​ @bluesiderudy​ @ad-infinitums​ @midnightmagicmusings​ @spideymyluv​ @diverdcwn​ @softstarkey​

#john b routledge #john b outer banks #john b imagine #john b x reader #john b x y/n #outer banks #john b x you #john b routledge x reader #john b routledge x you #john b routledge imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fluff #outerbanks x you #outer banks x y/n #obx x you #obx netflix #obx x reader #obx x y/n #obx angst #female reader #tw: death #tw: fainting #tw: hospital

[takoyakitenchou]

genesis ch.1

i started a next gen fic called Renaissance w all my oc’s but i realized i need to provide context so now i’m writing this in tandem. endgames for this fic are pretty much set but i’m more than willing to experiment. i’ll post chapters for both fics initially on tumblr and then transfer them to ff.net for ease of accessibility (scrolling to find chapters etc). also i never proofread so bear w any mistakes lol

Long before thoughts of graduation were even on his mind, it had come to the attention of Yukihira Souma that after a few years of first-handedly witnessing the evolution of Sakaki Sake, there was nothing that could faze him anymore.

But as he fiddled with the honors cords around his neck and watched Nakiri Erina take the stage to deliver her first seat address — the same stage where he’d announced his plans to take the top spot three years prior and improvised his second seat speech five minutes ago — he was automatically thrown into a kaleidoscope of frustration and wishful fantasy, both of which he thought he had effectively shut down. It wasn’t about the fact that he hadn’t been able to take her first seat away from her; she had belonged there and both of them knew it.

He’d taken her to Shino’s Tokyo for their one year anniversary two nights ago and when she started her usual nitpicking about his work habits, or lack thereof, he’d finally come clean and admitted that the reason why he’d spent the better part of second semester abroad was because he’d been in Helsinki, talking with investors and contractors about his restaurant space, stuffing his menu with specialties, carefully selecting sous chefs and house staff, paving his path to becoming the first owner chef of Totsuki’s 92nd generation. His flagship was set to debut in four days.

Then she’d broken up with him.

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to ask her if she was down to go with him to Finland and be his co-owner chef while she was halfway through a mahi-mahi specialty he’d given Shinomiya in exchange for exclusive rights to the best table in the house, but at the time he’d been way too excited to think twice.

We’re of perpendicular worlds, she’d said. We just… happened to cross. It didn’t… 

Mean anything, he’d finished, feeling his heart break. You’re right.

“Good morning, graduates of the 92nd generation. It’s been six years since we all stood in this very amphitheater with our middle school division acceptance letters and yet I remember everything as acutely as if it were just yesterday. I suppose that only goes to show how fast time has flown…”

She had perched herself precariously on his lap in his office at Legislation, laughing and sharing the Smirnoff they’d stolen from Kurokiba’s locker, his arms around her waist as they bounced ideas off of each other. The final draft, completed ten minutes before it was due for approval with her grandfather and the board, seemed like a valedictorian address, but at its foundation, it was a testament to all that they had achieved as the pinnacle of the academy.

“… It is impossible to overestimate the changes that our generation brought to Totsuki. Our impact stretches from Legislation at the peak of the mountain all the way down to the front gates at its base, and in a way we have left a legacy on the rest of the culinary world that will endure for the eras to come…”

It’s impossible to overestimate the changes that we made to this school, bubs. You and I altered the course of Totsuki forever, and our legacy… I guess we’ll have to trust the process. But I know we’ll see it through side by side, because you’re Yukihira Souma and I’m Nakiri Erina.

“… I will always treasure all the memories we have made and I trust that our futures will remain intertwined. I trust that this will not be the last time we are gathered together to celebrate our achievements. We made it this far. We overcame — no, we conquered every obstacle this school threw our way. So let us strive forth, reach for new heights, and venture into the world that has already long since been ours. Congratulations, everyone.”

Let us strive forth, Yukihira, and drive ourselves further into the wasteland, knowing that as long as your hand is in mine we will reach the end of the storm.

Is that a promise, bubs?

Of course it is, you idiot.

Stop hitting me. I love you, too.

“Good job,” he said when she returned backstage, his voice thick with memories.

She gave him an unreserved smile reminiscent of their past and the tension strangling his heart started to abate. Just barely.

“Yukihira, will you take me home after?”

Souma stared at her in surprise. “Would you like me to?”

A single nod.

-

Erina managed to not fall off Souma’s scooter on his way to the Nakiri Mansion. She had, against her better judgment, asked him for expedited service, and he was one hell of a speedster when he wanted to be.  

“This is it, then,” she said. She fought to keep her emotions from seeping into her voice, her eyes from lingering on the short hair protruding from under his graduation cap. Everything was driving her insane; the sooner she got out of there, the better.

But she made no move to go.

Souma nodded, paused, took a breath. “Can you make it to the opening? I… I’d want you there, if no one else.”

She ignored the last part because he meant it. To dwell on the feelings that were still very much animate between them would only impede their futures, and to keep each other from reaching their goals would be a sin after everything they’d been through. “Maybe if you delay I could show up near the end, or maybe at closing just to say hi… I don’t know.”

It had always been like this, both of them making promises they’d never be able to keep, no matter how hard they tried. They’d tried. They really had.

He nodded in acceptance and she could sense his despondency. His gaze flitted down and then back up, and in that short span his expression had cleared of melancholy.

So many things she wanted to say but not enough time and no way to say them. Erina looked into his gentle honey eyes, regarding the way they glittered with an invitation to recross the blurred lines she’d slashed between them.

But that would be wrong. 

So instead she extended her hand diplomatically; he took it with a chuckle, and before she knew it her ex boyfriend was holding her close against his chest. Erina pressed her nose to his neck, knowing she would no longer have the guilty pleasure of smelling the scent that clung to him at all times, some unique blend of laundry detergent and whatever spices he’d been experimenting with last. She felt his hands shift behind her, briefly letting go and then coming to rest gently in her hair and around her waist. 

“Good luck, Yukihira.”

“See you, bu—Nakiri.” To make that mistake would be unforgivable.

Then he let go, and she was glad because she had been slipping back into the familiar sensation of his comfort and doing absolutely nothing to stop herself. Erina watched with the ghost of a smile on her lips as Souma’s receding figure melted into the lazy spring afternoon.

Only when he was long gone did she realize that he had slipped his mother’s white cloth around her neck before he left.

#shokugeki no souma #shokugeki no soma #soueri #sorina #new fic #soma yukihira #erina nakiri

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Fifteen

A/N: hey hey hey, sorry it’s been a while, but life is super busy atm, so writing is going on hold in favour of actual uni work. but I'm here now to grace your screens and your hearts with a little chapter of ben hardy christmassy fluff. enjoy

Warnings: a tiny wee bit of swearing

w/c: 3k+

Chapter Fifteen 

Christmas came and went in a blur of mince pies and mulled wine, and cozy nights at Ben’s place, snuggled under a blanket with the greatest hits of Christmas music playing and a youtube video of a fire on the telly. It was all fairy lights and fluffy coats and old movies that made you feel like a kid again. Though you met up with everyone as often as you could over the break, you all went your separate ways for Christmas to be with your families, and you and Ben thought it was too soon to be having Christmas Day together — though the conversation did make you imagine what that would be like, maybe ten years down the line, in a house with a few kids running around. It would be absolute chaos, the older ones would be arguing over their new toys, you would be fretting about getting the turkey cooked on time, Ben would be frantically trying to get one of the kids’ toys working before they got upset, but in a moment of quiet he would pull you onto his lap and kiss your cheek, telling you how proud he was of your little family, how much he loved you all. The thought made your stomach tighten. 

Instead, you had your own little Christmas celebration a few days later, and everyone was due to come round to Ben’s with their partners. You were cooking a full roast dinner for everyone, and Ben had cleaned the place to within an inch of its life. Fairy lights were up everywhere, candles filled the air with hints of cinnamon, and the tree sparkled quietly in the corner. You remembered decorating it with Ben, and smiled at the memory of him laughing at you as you anally made sure every decoration was well placed and facing the right way. He had taken advantage of you reaching up to hang a bauble on a high branch and tickled you relentlessly. You’d kicked and squealed as you rolled around on the floor, and when Ben had landed atop you, breathing heavily, his eyes locked intensely onto yours, you couldn’t help but bring his lips, and with them his whole body, crashing onto you. It was suffocating, really, how much you adored him. 

“How’s it going?” Ben called as you heard him come through the front door and into the kitchen. He was sweaty from the gym, his tshirt sitting snug on his chest. He almost sparkled in the cool December sunlight. 

“Yeah good, all on track.” 

He came up behind you and rested a hand on your hip, leaning across to kiss your cheek. 

“Sorry, I’m sweaty,” he murmured, but there was something about that musky sweet scent that made you hum. “I’m just going to jump in the shower then I’ll come and help.” 

As promised, he wasn’t long and came out of the bedroom in slacks and a shirt, looking handsome and smelling of cologne. 

“What can I do, angel?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.

You pointed him to the carrots, already peeled and waiting to be chopped. 

“I can do that,” he nodded, “Discs or batons?” 

“Always batons,” you insisted, and he chuckled. 

“I’m learning new things about you everyday.” 

Music was playing and you had a glass of wine in hand by the time the knock came on the door. As much as you were excited to see your friends, the sound had almost pained you. It was the most exquisite bliss just being with Ben, pottering about the kitchen together, rarely speaking but exchanging loving glances, singing along to the music, peppering each other with chaste but frequent kisses. But you greeted your friends with open arms, and ushered them to the table. You fussed over getting them drinks, and making sure Gwil and Allen’s partners felt welcome and comfortable.

“How is it that we’re at my house but you’re hosting?” Ben muttered to you as you poured out two glasses of wine.

“I can’t help it,” you chuckled. “Will you grab those chipolatas out of the oven?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

As you passed him, you stuck out your cheek and he placed a sloppy kiss on it. 

“You two are sickening,” Lucy smiled as you passed her a glass. You smiled, bashful, but she only continued, “I’m so glad it’s working out for you.”

“Allen told me you guys started seeing each other pretty recently?” Jessica, Allen’s girlfriend, inquired.

“Yeah, only a couple months ago.”

“Is that all?” Gwil’s girlfriend Erin exclaimed, “God, you seem like you’ve been together for years.”

“It’s a match made in heaven,” Lucy winked.

You ate till you feared you would explode and then ate some more — dessert is essential, no matter how full you believe yourself to be. You spent much of the evening getting to know the other girls, exchanging past dating horrors and dishing out the gossip on the boys to each other. For much of the meal you could feel Ben’s eyes on you from the other end of the table, and occasionally you looked up from your plate to see him gazing at you soppily. He would smile, or wink, and you would blush a little but return the gesture. You noticed Joe catch your eye and whisper something to Ben, but your curiosity was quashed as Jessica asked you a question.

“You two are really smitten, huh?” Joe chuckled in Ben’s ear.

Ben faced him, concerned, “Sorry mate, I don’t mean to shove it down your throat.”

Joe chuckled and assured him it was okay, sure he was the only single person at the table but he wasn’t bothered by it. “I’m happy for you, man, honestly.” 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. It already feels like she’s my whole world.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I did wonder if you were ready to commit yet, you know? I had occurred to me that your feelings might be a rebound, just someone to latch on to, but it really feels like you two are the real deal.”

Ben smiled; it was a comfort to know that other people saw what he felt. Sometimes it scared him, how quickly he had fallen for you, but when he looked over at you an increasingly familiar feeling of certainty and tingling warmth settled over him. You seemed to move in slow motion, a laugh bubbling from you, your glass sitting lazily between your fingers, radiant. The dying light shone like a halo behind you. You glowed. He seemed to gravitate towards you like a magnet finding due north. You were his ground zero, his homing beacon. And he wanted you for the rest of his life. Unlike so many times before that thought didn’t frighten him, it didn’t make his pulse thump in his ears. Instead, he inhaled and took a long sip of his drink to hide his grin.

“She’s perfect for you, man. You’re perfect for each other.”

He looked Joe full in the face and nodded, “I know.” 

When he caught your eye again from across the table he winked and you felt suddenly pulled toward him. You had the urge to hold him tight in your arms and kiss every inch of skin you could find. 

“This is incredible, Y/N, thank’s for cooking!” Gwil complimented, shaking you from the thoughts in your head. The others chimed in with their agreement. 

“It’s my pleasure. Plus I couldn’t let you all endure Ben’s cooking.”

Ben spluttered, gesticulating indignantly, “Why does no one believe I’m a good cook?”

“I’m sure you are,” Rami said holding back a grin, “But you’ve got nothing on our Y/N,”

After everyone had left you lay snuggled on the sofa, half watching a rerun of some old movie and half napping. Ben stroked your hair gently while he fiddled with his phone. 

“Hey, so I’ve been invited to a New Year’s party with some old school friends.” 

“Oh right, sounds fun.” 

You hadn’t really thought about New Year, supposing you would have an evening in with Ben. But if he was going to a party you were sure you could gatecrash whatever Sav was doing. 

“You’d be keen then?” he proposed, hopeful. 

You sat up, “I’m invited? To a party with your mates from school?” 

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He seemed nervous as he continued, “I thought you might enjoy it, you know, getting to know them a bit. You only really know me as an actor and—”

“I’d hope I know you a little better than that,” you said as you nestled closer into him. “But I’d love to come and meet all your friends. But you have to come and meet Savvy.”

He smiled and a tension that you hadn’t previously noticed in his shoulders abated. “It’d be my pleasure.” 

You kissed his cheek, then stroked his jaw to make him face you before planting a kiss on his lips. He hummed, and you both turned back to the TV. 

After a moment you frowned, muttering, “I suppose that’s one step closer to meeting the parents.” 

You both went stiff. 

“We’ll talk about that another time.” 

New Year’s Eve was a blast. You had always found it the most disappointing of he annual celebrations because it turned everyone into one of two people. All those in couples acted sickeningly happy and in love, and all the more keen to shove it down everyone’s throats — much like their tongues — and as you had never been that person they just made you want to throw up. Or it turned you into a sour singleton, bitter at being alone on New Year (again), desperate to find someone to kiss at midnight, the combination of which usually resulted in horrific drunkenness so you were left either holding back your friend’s hair while she vomited in the toilet, or you were the one doing the vomiting. Either way, it wasn’t pleasant, vomit was involved, and the next day was a guaranteed write off. Excellent start to the year. But this year was different. This year, you were the one who was sickeningly happy and instead of vodka making you feel sick, it was the moments when you caught yourself in blatant acts of PDA with Ben. As much as you didn’t want to be that person, you were dizzyingly happy. A few drinks in, with a pleasant buzz of adrenaline and Ben’s arm sitting heavily around your waist, you mingled confidently with Ben’s old school friends and delighted in all the embarrassing teenager stories that they seemed to have stocked in abundance. Your particular favourite was when he’d been sent to the headmaster’s office after he told his chemistry teacher that his ‘salmon’ pink shirt was, “about as salmon as your bald head, sir.” You looked with playful intrigue at the girls that he had had flings with or crushes on, and cheered him on louder than anyone else as he downed his pint in a race. It sounded weird to you, hearing his friends call him ‘Jonesy’, and there were moments when you saw him revert to an older version of himself — more cocky, more brazen, less of the reasoned, intelligent, compassionate man you knew him to be. It didn’t really bother you, but it did make you wonder more about what he had been like before you knew him, and if any of that change had been because of you. But when he held you during the countdown… 10, 9, 8… looking unflinchingly into your eyes as the numbers ticked down… 7, 6, 5… you saw the Ben you knew… 4, 3… and you bathed in him… 2, 1. A chorus of ‘Happy New Year!’ resounded through the room and Ben kissed you fearlessly.

He pulled away but let his forehead rest against yours. “Happy New Year, gorgeous.”

“Happy New Year,” you hummed back, feeling alive and fulfilled and happy.

“Oh you have for sure got it easier,” you laughed, pushing the door open to a busy cafe and scanning the room for your best friend. “This is only two people, and they basically count as one.”

“No way, it’s definitely easier at a party. There’s booze to take the edge off and you can just talk to someone else if it gets awkward. Here I’m trapped.”  

You spotted Savannah and Chris by the window and grinned. “I’m so glad you see it that way. Anyway, it’s just lunch and it’s not like you’ll be alone, I won’t go wondering off to chat to someone else and abandon you in a room full of strangers.” 

“That’s harsh,” he frowned. 

You chuckled and took him by the hand, dragging him over to your friends. Sav turned her head, dark chocolate curls that you’d always envied dancing playfully, and she jumped up to greet you, barely holding in an excited squeal. The two of you spoke constantly and met up whenever you could, but reuniting with her was always a tad melodramatic. 

“Darling! It’s so good to see you, you look radiant,” she beamed as held you at arms length before wrapping you up in a crushing hug. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” she muttered in your era.

You smacked her gently on the arm and reassured her that you weren’t before stepping round her to give her husband, Chris, a hug too. 

Ben stood awkwardly behind you, hands thrust into his pockets, and you shook your head lightly. 

“Um, guys this is my boyfriend, Ben.” 

It occurred to you that you hadn’t actually called him your boyfriend before. You never had ‘the conversation’ and you’d spent most of your time on set where everyone already knew. Even when it had come out that you were together, you never told anyone yourself and people had asked you if you and Ben were “seeing each other” but never if he was your boyfriend. Ben had introduced you to his friends by your name, nothing else. But Ben, always totally collected, didn’t seem to notice the way you stalled, and shook Chris’ outstretched hand. Savvy couldn’t contain herself and went right in for a hug — you knew she was using it to see how cuddly he was, what cologne he used, how muscular his shoulders were. You had tried to reassure Ben over meeting Sav (he knew exactly how important she was to you, she was basically a sister) telling her she wouldn’t be judging and he needn’t worry about making a good impression because you knew he would without trying, but it was blatant that she was sizing him up. 

‘Be nice,’ you mouthed behind Ben’s back.

She shrugged, eyes widening as if to say ‘I don’t know what you mean’. 

You made small talk until the waiter came to take your order. Ben shifted in his seat beside you; he hid it well but you could tell he was nervous, so you gently clasped his hand under the table.

“So, how long have you two been together?” Chris asked. 

“We already know that,” chided Sav impatiently. 

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “I want to hear it from them.”

“Well I suppose you’d say were started dating that night after we went to the pub,” Ben offered, looking at you, “We never actually ‘made it official’.”

“That was, what, two and a half months ago?” you commented.

“Just now was actually the first time you called me your boyfriend.” So he did notice. “It sounded nice,” he whispered, only to you. 

Chris smiled, “So all pretty new then?”

“I guess, but I think we feel settled.” Ben squeezed your hand. 

Conversation flowed freely through the meal, and it particularly heartened you to see Ben and Chris getting on so well because you fully intended to spend much more time together as a four. Every now and again Savvy would catch your eye and grin, pumping her eyebrows. You were so desperate to hear what she thought of him, to get her seal of approval — you knew he was amazing but you wanted her to know it too — so as soon as you had finished your food you announced that you were going to the toilets and Sav was to come with you. 

The second the door closed behind you she burst, “Y/N he’s great. I’ll admit I was skeptical after the whole fingering thing and how long it took you to get together, and him not talking to you, but honestly… he’s great. And he’s perfect for you.”

Relief flooded through you and exploded from your face in a grin. You smothered her in a hug. “I’m so glad.”

“You adore him, don’t you?” 

Your sigh was almost more of a grunt as you effused, “Completely.”

“I knew you liked really him but I had no idea it was this serious already. I don’t blame you though, babe, he’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t he?” You felt like a teenager with a celebrity crush. “And he’s kind and thoughtful, he makes the bed every morning and he smells great—”

“He does smell great.”

“—and he’s charming and so good in bed, like, he’s attentive and considerate but also a fucking machine,” you inhaled, “and he’s funny and so intelligent and he can cook…”

“God, hurry up and marry him already.”

You looked at her honestly, “Don’t even joke, I’ve thought about it.”

Sav laughed brightly, “Of course you have.”

You slumped against the wall and mused longingly, “He’s so pretty.”

“He is,” she nodded, “and what’s more I think he’s a keeper.”

“What have you two been nattering about then?” you smiled as you sat back down next to Ben, sliding up close to him on the bench seat. 

“Just discussing juggling work with starting a family,” Ben stated sedately.

When you pried further that evening, it warmed you to hear Ben talk about how lucky he felt that he was in a profession where he could take a prolonged period off work to help when the babies were born: knowing he wanted kids at all was a relief. He had reminded you that he already knew you wanted three children, because he’d asked you back when you barely knew each other, on the very first day of shooting. It felt like a lifetime ago. Your life, your future, had changed since then. Because now Ben was not only in it, he was all of it. 

taglist: @anikatcmh​ @queen-turtle-boiii​ @orchideax​ @rogerspoison @my5secondsofneverland​ @mrsmazzello​ @ixchel-9275​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @devin-marie​ @rogmeddows​ @mercurycrowley​ @spaghetittiesbcimgay​ @valeriecarolinaw​ @saint-hardy​ @caborhapch​ @stephanie-everlasting @coldmuffinpartycloud​ @drowse13​ @shhhs3cret​ @blind-melon-taylor​ @ohsososophisticatedd​ @malfoybaby​ @littlepanda-love​ @leezie​ @shesakillerquueennn​ @borhapgrande​ @stfxlou​ @vangogh-groupie​ @dep-thx​ (just ask if you want to be added to the tag list! sorry if tumblr won’t let me tag you)

#kind of magic series #ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #soft ben #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #queen #christmas imagine #borhap #fluff #ben hardy fluff

[artificialqueens]

To New Hytes (Group fic) 4/? - Mac

AN: I cannot sing the praises of Meggie or grapefruit enough for everything they do. They talk me off the ledge with this fic practically on the daily. They are tremendously kind and supportive and hard on me when I need it. Bless those idiots, they try so hard.

Summary: Nina and Monet blur the lines of their friendship, Brooke and Vanessa banter, and Kameron’s muscled arms are surprisingly comfortable.

Monet didn’t know what to do.

Nina was seriously drunk. She was drunk in a way that almost rivaled their days back in college.

Nina was plastered to Brooke’s side and had been that way all night. Monet knew she didn’t have the right to be upset, but that didn’t keep her from feeling that way.

Nina held Brooke’s hand the whole ride back to the hotel and rested her head atop the taller girl’s shoulder. The rest of the girls in the car were too busy to notice how close they were. Or if they did, it didn’t seem to matter.

Blair was keeping her voice low as she spoke into her phone. Something about a design she was shipping getting lost. She seemed a bit distressed.

Vanessa was too absorbed in watching Brooke like a hawk. Every inch of her fingers along Nina’s skin made Vanessa squint harder in annoyance.

Trixie was giggling to herself looking at her phone. The buzzing that signaled a new message was nearly constant.

Kameron was looking out the window, admiring the passing scenery of the city at night.

Monet wished she were anywhere else in the world other than pressed right next to Nina in a car that felt like it was growing smaller by the minute.

“You two wanna get a room?” Monet finally snapped.

Brooke, who was drunk, but not drunk enough to be tolerating the treatment from Nina, looked over at Monet with a questioning look.

Monet rolled her eyes and pressed herself further into the car door, trying to escape any contact of her and Nina’s skin. It didn’t work. What was worse was that sparks were still running along Monet’s hip, settling in her gut.

They finally got to the hotel and tipped the Uber driver extra for having to deal with their drunk party.

In the elevator, Brooke took Nina’s arm from around her shoulders and pushed her gently toward Monet. The younger girl suddenly had her arms full of a very drunk and very touchy Nina.

Monet wasn’t complaining.

Nina was pressed between Monet and the elevator wall and was taking full advantage of being mostly hidden from the other girls. She trailed her hands over Monet’s shoulder and back with a reverence that made Monet want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Brooke gave Monet a knowing smile and stepped behind Vanessa, who looked satisfied now that the contact with Nina was finished. Monet noticed that Vanessa instinctively stepped back a bit, so Brooke’s front was flush against her.

The elevator was crowded, sure, but not crowded enough that those two needed to be that close.

Brooke smirked at the back of Vanessa’s head and moved her knee in between Vanessa’s legs and ever so slightly upwards. Monet didn’t have to look to see Vanessa’s reaction, because the younger girl gasped under her breath.

The rest of the occupants in the elevator seemed oblivious to Brooke and Vanessa’s game, so Monet looked away, and tried not to focus on Nina’s wandering hands.

When the elevator finally signaled a floor, Brooke moved her knee more forcefully upwards, causing Vanessa to bite her lip and her eyes to widen. As the doors opened, Brooke pulled her leg away and sauntered out of the elevator, shooting Monet a smirk, and Vanessa a wink.

Monet rolled her eyes but Nina caught her.

“What’s wrong, ‘Net? Are you mad at B? Don’t be mad at her,” Nina whined.

Monet tried not to find the pet name endearing. Tried to not find any of it endearing.

She failed.

“No, I’m not mad at B.”

“You seem mad at her. Is it cause she’s fucking Vanjie?”

At this, the rest of the company finally took notice.

Vanessa’s face flushed bright red as she spluttered out “We’re not- I’m not- we-”

The elevator chimed again and Vanessa rushed off the elevator amidst shocked looks from the rest of the girls.  

Kameron exited the elevator with Blair - who was still on the phone -  in tow at the next floor and shot Monet a questioning look as if to say ‘you got this?’ Monet nodded and Kameron flashed her a thumbs up before the door closed, leaving Nina and Monet as the only ones left in the elevator.

They exited on the last floor and Nina had to be dragged to their room.

Yes, they shared a room. Yes, they were the only ones to share a room.

Nina had said it would make them a better team if they lived with each other. Monet had jumped at the chance to be around the older girl. And it made nights like this easier, since they were going to the same place.

Nina hung off of Monet’s shoulders as the younger girl fiddled with the door. She felt her face flush from the proximity and her hands shake at the way Nina was swaying into her.

Monet finally got the door open  and ushered Nina inside.

Nina proceeded to stumble to the bathroom.

Monet took a moment to compose herself. She let herself fall gracelessly onto the couch in the small living area. It was tough and uncomfortable, but Monet didn’t care.

It had been a long night.

She and Nina had always had this… thing between them. They never talked about it. They just skirted around the edges of the line they had drawn.

They had met in a college history class. Nina had plopped herself right next to Monet on the first day and introduced herself as being Nina and being bad at history. Monet had laughed and had reassured her that if they stuck together, they could figure it out. History turned out to be Monet’s best subject - a fact Nina later admitted to taking advantage of - and her major.

They had stuck together throughout the class, spending long nights in the library or days in the local coffee shop “studying,”.

Monet had met Brooke a month after she met Nina.

Nina and Brooke had been a package deal, and Monet was not about to say no to two new friends.

Kameron had come along halfway through their second year and then their group had finally felt complete. They just all worked incredibly well together. It was almost scary how well they all fell into place.

But Brooke had always been a flirt, and Nina had always been in love with Brooke. It was an open secret between Kameron and Monet. And they had spent long nights discussing the future of their friendship if the two did start dating.

But as much as Brooke was a flirt, she was an untouchable flirt. Especially in college. She allowed girls to grace her bed for the night, then ignored their calls the next day. No one interested her. No one held her attention. No one could keep up with her.

Nina tried. Monet knew. They all knew how hard Nina tried to keep up.

But Brooke didn’t look back or didn’t want to see the signs. Some nights, like tonight, Monet was sure she knew about Nina’s feelings. But other times, when she so blatantly ignored the girl’s comments, Monet wasn’t so sure.

Nina came out of the bathroom a minute later and promptly launched herself onto the bed.

Correction.

Launched herself on to Monet’s bed.

Monet sighed and made her way over to Nina, who was getting comfy in the pile of blankets.

“Nina, honey, this is my bed.”

“I know,” Nina stated matter of factly. “Whydya think I’m lying here. Wanna sleep with you.”

Monet tried to stop the churning in her stomach. “Neens-”

“Just come lay down.” Nina patted the space beside her and gazed up at Monet with puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

How could Monet refuse?

The younger girl begrudgingly tucked herself under the covers, trying to keep as much space as possible between herself and Nina.

Nina noticed what she was doing and shimmied her way over until she was pressed right against Monet’s side. “You can’t get away that easy,” she teased.

“We shouldn’t-” Monet began to protest.

“We aren’t doing anything. We’re just sleeping. Now hush and go to sleep.”

Nina flipped off the bedside lamp and curled her arms around Monet’s waist, sighing happily.

Monet let a few minutes pass, each one feeling more and more pressing. The fan above them spun around and around. Monet felt it judging her silently.

“Nina, we need to talk about this,” Monet spoke to the ceiling fan.

“About what?” Nina’s voice was muffled by the pillows.

“This.”

“I’m too drunk for that conversation. We’ll have it in the morning.”

Monet sat up and reached over to flip the lamp back on. “No! No, you always do that. You say we’ll talk about it and we never do. No more! This isn’t fair” Monet put her face in her hands. “To either of us,” she added.

Nina grimaced, partially from the light, partially from the words.

“Fine.” Nina’s voice suddenly sounded composed, barely any traces of drunkenness in her speech, aside from the occasional slurring. “What do you want me to say?”

“Well what the hell was that tonight? Practically falling over yourself for Brooke?”

Nina’s serious demeanor changed all of a sudden to one of confusion and hurt. “Why does it matter?”

“Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you,” Monet deadpanned.

Nina sighed, long and heavy. “I was trying to make you jealous, okay? There. Are you happy?”

Monet’s brain stopped working for a second.

“I’m not even really that drunk, don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty tipsy, but not thattipsy.”

Nina looked over to see Monet’s face had gone stony.

“Don’t be mad.”

Monet was fuming. “Don’t be mad? Don’t be mad that you were trying to manipulate me? You could have just fucking asked! You didn’t have to fucking lie to me and try to make me upset. Congratulations you achieved your goal. I’m upset with you.”

“Honey, please don’t-”

Monet threw off the covers and shook off Nina’s hand when the older girl tried to keep her from leaving. “No! Neens, you can’t do shit like that to people. You know how I feel about you, and that’s a shitty way to play it.”

Monet walked to the door of the bedroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Wait! I-”

Monet shut the door.

…

Brooke was in her office, or her office for the day. They were in New York of all places, a second home to her, and here she was crammed up in a stuffy theatre office on a Saturday morning when all she wanted was to lay back down or visit the old bookstore she used to frequent. Instead of either of those things, she was looking blankly at the document in front of her. It was filled with numbers and figures that stood for ticket sales. Or was it merch sales? Or was it tour dates? Brooke had no clue.

Nina had said she wasn’t coming in today due to “personal reasons,” and Brooke hadn’t needed to ask for details as Monet had stormed into her office an hour ago accosting her about the other night.

“Did you know about it?”

“About what?”

“Nina’s fucking plan last night?”

Brooke looked at Monet a second. “Her one to make you jealous? No, but anyone could see that was what she was trying to do.”

“Fuck.”

“It worked didn’t it?”

“Of course it fucking worked, B. I love her, that bitch.”

“I know.” Brooke did know. Brooke had known for a while now. Brooke also knew that Monet still wasn’t getting it, as evidenced by her next words.

“Why would she do that?”

“Are you joking?” Brooke asked seriously.

“Why would I joke about this?”

Brooke sighed and sat down across from Monet, taking the younger girl’s hands in her own. “She loves you too.”

“No she doesn’t.”

Brooke couldn’t help her eye roll. “Do you actually, genuinely believe that Nina, our Nina, would do anything intentionally malicious to anyone?”

“No,” Monet admitted begrudgingly.

“Then why the fuck do you think she did it? She loves you too, you idiot.”

Monet took a second to breathe.

Brooke let her.

“God, what the hell do I do B? I never thought… I don’t know. I just never imagined a world where she loved me back.” Monet searched in Brooke’s eyes for something, anything. “What do I do, B?” She repeated.

“What do you want to do?”

“It isn’t that simple.” Monet took her hands from Brooke’s and stood up. She walked over to the far wall and breathed in and out slowly.

It was simple. Monet was just making it hard. Brooke had watched her and Nina dance around each other for years. Brooke had watched Monet make things harder for herself for years. It was almost like the young photographer thought she didn’t deserve to be happy.

“Isn’t it? You love her. She loves you. That’s it.”

Monet gave her a knowing look but bit her tongue and shook her head on a reply. Brooke ignored it for now. She also pointedly ignored how close the words seemed to hit home.

“Go get her. Or don’t. But don’t sit here. You’re making me anxious with your pacing and shit.”

Monet gave a halfhearted laugh. She pulled Brooke into a hug and left in a daze.

Brooke had sat back down and stared at the paper for a while after she left, trying to make sense of the gibberish that had been presented to her. Her fingers hovered over her phone.

Just as she resolved to bite the bullet and call Nina, she realized she wasn’t alone in her (temporary) office.

“Jesus Christ, Mateo! Don’t you knock?”

Vanjie just shrugged.

Brooke stood up and made her way around so she was standing in front of Vanjie, leaning against the desk. She knew she looked good, and judging from Vanjie’s once over, she knew it too. “What do you need, Mateo?” Brooke kept up her cool tone, but it was tinged with something predatory. She didn’t even do it purposefully. Something about Vanjie just made her tick.

And that thing in the elevator the other night… Brooke didn’t have answers. She had just acted. Nothing and no one had ever frustrated her quite like Vanjie. The girl was quick witted and talented beyond measure. It was infuriating how easily she got under Brooke’s skin. Maybe that was why Brooke acted the way she did. Brooke wasn’t going to be the only one getting flustered.

“My name is Vanessa, by the way.”

“I find last names are better in the workplace. Keeps a sort of,” Brooke paused, “distance.”

“You don’t call Nina, Monet or Kam by their last names.”

“They’re different. They’re family. I trust them.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“That isn’t an answer, Mateo.” Brooke pointedly used her last name.

“Sure it is, mami. You just didn’t like it.” Vanessa winked.

Brooke groaned internally. God this girl was going to be the death of her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Mateo?”

“Well, no. Not really, since I ain’t performing tonight.”

Brooke smirked - for once, she had the upper hand. “Oh, didn’t Alyssa tell you? You’re up first tonight.”

Vanessa’s smile could have lit up all of New York.

���Really?”

Brooke held her composure, when all she really wanted to do was fling herself at Vanessa. “Do I need to repeat myself?” she answered coolly.

Vanessa shook her head, curly hair flying out wildly, and she threw her arms around Brooke’s neck to pull her into a hug.

Brooke felt herself relax into the hug after a moment and let her hands move to rest on Vanessa’s hips - something she’d been wanting to do since the two women had met.

When Vanessa pulled back, she left her hands in place around Brooke’s neck. Brooke kept her hands where they were on Vanessa’s hips.

She should have moved them. She should have pulled her hands back like they burned. They didn’t.  She should have pulled them away and walked somewhere else so she didn’t have to see Vanessa’s smile so close to her. She didn’t.

Something passed over Vanessa’s features for a moment before she shook her head lightly and pulled her arms down. Now Brooke’s hands did burn. They sizzled and tingled at her fingertips and she knew the feeling will stop if she just held Vanessa again. She wouldn’t.

“You won’t regret this, mami. I promise.”

“I better not,” Brooke responded, but her usual cocky tone was dampened somewhat. If Vanessa noticed, she didn’t let her face show it.

She disappeared out of the office, and Brooke was left staring after her yet again.

…

Blair looked up at the small knock on the door.

She didn’t need to. There was only one person it could be.

Kameron stood in the doorway with a big bag of takeout and a nervous smile. Blair beckoned her inside and put down the drawing in her hands.

“Sorry to disturb when you’re working. But I thought I’d bring it to you while it’s still hot.”

“You ain’t disturbin’ me.” Blair reassured.

You could never disturb me, is what Blair wanted to say. She didn’t. She shouldn’t. At least not yet. Kameron had become an intrinsic part of Blair’s day. Almost overnight, the two had become thick as thieves. But there was still the usual tension and awkwardness of a new friend. They knew so much about each other, but small details still escaped them.

For Blair, it was scary. Having someone so close to her, emotionally speaking. Yes, she had befriended all the rest of the company, but no one had ever tried so hard to befriend her. It was nice, being on the other end of things for once. It was uncommon, but welcome.

Blair cleared off a bit of the table for the food. Kameron followed her train of thought diligently, like she knew what Blair was thinking.

Kameron sat the food down and began to unpack it, checking with Blair to make sure she got everything right. She did. Kameron always got everything right.

They ate in a comfortable silence, that was occasionally broken by one of them talking about an upcoming tour date or a strange encounter they had.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Kameron leaned over to look at the discarded notebook. “Brianna again?” Blair shot her a look. “Sorry, sorry! Just-” Kameron sighed. “I don’t understand why you keep designing outfits for her that she’s never gonna wear.”

Blair got quiet all of a sudden and looked at her feet.

“Wait, Blair.” Kameron’s face said that she understood. “You don’t still design for her.” When Blair didn’t answer, Kameron persisted. “Do you?”

Blair couldn’t meet Kameron’s eyes. She hadn’t told anyone. No one knew, and she had wanted to keep it that way. So why, oh why, did she let Kameron find out?

“It really ain’t that big a deal, Kameron. Honest.”

Kameron just looked at her with sad eyes. It wasn’t pity, it was just… sad.

“Of course it is.” The hurt on Blair’s face must have been clear, because Kameron stood up and pulled her up into a hug.

Blair let the tears fall. Let go of the strong wall she was trying to put up. Kameron cared. In a way no one else in her life had. She wanted what was best for Blair, wanted to see her succeed.

Blair let herself be led to the couch in the tiny excuse for a costume room and manhandled until her head was under Kameron’s chin and she was nestled right up next to Kameron, practically in her lap. Kameron held her close, whispered soothingly, as Blair continued to cry.

She hadn’t cried since the breakup. Hadn’t let herself. She felt stupid and foolish, sure. She had let those feelings come. But the ones of sadness and heartbreak, she never let herself feel. Those were feelings for later.

Blair supposed now, wrapped up in the arms of a girl who she barely knew, was later.

“It won’t make her love you again.” Kameron’s voice was soft, but solid, like her.

“I know.” Blair said between sniffles.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” Blair paused. “And no.” She sighed. “I know, I do. But I guess I was just hopin’…”

“She’d wake up and realize she made a horrible mistake?” Kameron said, leaning back a bit to wipe a few tears from Blair’s cheek.

“Or she’d love me again. I dunno. It’s stupid I know.” Blair moved to get up and put space between them, it felt like too much. It felt like she was a burden. It felt like she was dumping all her problems on Kameron, again.

She hated feeling helpless, always had. But maybe it was in her DNA that she needed someone, something to lean on.

Kameron wouldn’t let her get away that easily. “Lemme go, Kameron.”

“Never.” She held onto Blair and spoke softly. “Blair, it’s not stupid. It’s sweet and it’s kind and it’s everything I’ve learned to love about you.” Blair stopped struggling. “You aren’t stupid. You gotta stop saying that because it isn’t true. You’re kind and gentle and you have so much love in your heart to give. Any girl would be beyond blessed to be on the receiving end of all of that. Any girl would be beyond lucky to have you.”

Blair blushed at this. Kameron always seemed to make her blush.

“Right now, your feelings may be a bit… misguided.” Blair gave a light chuckle at that. “But it’s okay. You aren’t stupid for loving someone.”

Blair knew this. She knew this thing wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t right. But hearing someone else say it. She finally felt the burden lift. She talked a big talk, saying she was focusing on herself, when in reality she knew she couldn’t fully focus on herself while she was still wrapped up in feelings for Brianna.

She had been holding a torch for Brianna, stupidly hoping that one day it would matter. It wouldn’t. And now she knew for sure.

Kameron held her close until the tears stopped.

Blair suddenly realized how strange this was. She was sitting in the middle of her couch crying about a girl she had dated nearly two years ago to another girl who she may be catching feelings for.

Blair stood up.

Kameron let her this time.

Blair wiped her now dry face and had the decency to blush at her behavior.

“Thanks, Kameron,” she said quietly.

“Anytime, angel.”

#rpdr fanfiction #group fic #to new hytes #mac #branjie #scyvie #ninex #blair x kameron #trixya #brooke lynn hytes #nina west #vanessa vanjie mateo #monet x change #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #kameron michaels #blair st clair #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #lesbian au #slow burn #fluff #angst #violet chachki #akeria davenport

[autistic-stare]

Project Driscoll: Chapter three-598

Chapter three, again from a different point of view. This is also a little further back in the timeline. The majority of this chapter was written by Raeven Gray.

Content warning: Death (murder), CHILD ABUSE, TORTURE, blood, needles, medical equipment, creepy whumper introduced here, dystopian society, tranquilizers

“Mom? Mom! 526!” I’m shouting. I’m confused. All I know is that blood is coming out of my mother at an alarming rate, showering me in the red liquid. With every drop, I can feel my mother’s body getting colder.

It was an accident, it really was. I had a pair of scissors that I was using for a class assignment, but I tripped when my brother, 352, ran in front of me unexpectedly. The scissors flew out of my hand, arcing through the air in a menacing rainbow of steel. No. Next thing I know, Mom is lying on the floor, her life draining from her veins.  

Run. Wait, what? I can’t run. I have to tell them, I have to tell them that this was all an accident. Run, the voice whispers. Is that coming from inside me? I’m only seven, maybe they’ll understand. Run. Run now. Confused, I decide to give in. I run.

I find an abandoned civilian storage crate in the alley behind my house, they kind they use to drop supplies at our doorstep. I’m crouching, quivering in fear. I hear a voice, rough and unfamiliar.

“A little girl—did that? I can’t believe it!”

“Yeah, it’s pretty shocking. They told us it was a freak accident, but I don’t buy it. 723 is going to have a lot of fun with this one,” a second voice says, this one smoother, but slightly deeper.

“That’s cruel and you know it. Maybe we should leave her alone.”

“Is your head unscrewed, 438? You absolute fool! Do you know what 723 would do to us?”

“Better me than her, 762. Better me than her. She’s too young, she has too much potential.”

“Shut up. Talking about it won’t make it any more pleasant.”

They move in closer, and I squeak in fear. They hear me, and I jump, banging my head on the metal ceiling of the storage crate.

“There she is!” the first voice exclaims. “We’ve got her cornered.”

“Hello, little girlie. I’m 438, who are you?” he attempts. He’s trying to make me feel better, to lure me out from inside the crate. It won’t work.

“Oh, come on, 438, just get her. No common courtesies are going to lure this little monster out,” 762 interjects, his voice sinking lower and deeper. “Get your tranq out.” I hear a submissive sigh, probably from 438, and then the clicking of a dart being loaded. I hear the gun cock.

The door of the crate flips open, creating an explosion of light in this dark, cramped space. The sound of a dart firing. I should have picked a better hiding spot. I feel a sharp prick in my neck, and everything goes dark.

---

Where am I? Everything is so bright, so cold. Wh-what’s going on? I can’t move. I feel a sharp projection into my back, just off-center, and an icy cold trickles down my back. An IV. The needle retracts after it’s finished depositing whatever fluids. I shiver.

I look down. I’ve been cuffed to a wall, about two feet off the ground. The backs of my wrists and ankles are practically glued to the wall, a firm, unmoving pressure. I can’t move anything but my head.  

I look to my right. There are eight empty spots, just like the one I now occupy, waiting with an ominous silence, like predator waiting for prey. On my left, there is a boy. He looks to be about fourteen, maybe fifteen. His eyes are scared, and he’s clearly been here longer than me, but how long, I cannot tell.

A man comes through a door. He wears no shackles, but the blue Government uniform under a white doctor’s coat. His presence scares me. He is ruthless. He has no empathy. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he carries himself.

“Ah, fresh blood,” he says. This must be 723. “I am 723. Quite nice to meet you. You’re the youngest DOP I’ve ever met. Seven,” he chuckles. “And you’re only Second! You'll have plenty of time to grow up here. We generally do take a while to . . . fill up.” He sneers, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

Two sets of numbers flicker across an old-fashioned, Hi-def plasma screen computer across the room, on the opposite wall. They really should update that, a holoscreen would be far more efficient. I almost laugh at my own inner cynicism, but reality comes crashing back with the weight of panic building in the pit of my stomach.  

1 -- 374

2 -- 598

The boy next to me groans.

“That’s right, 374, it’s time for another round of Testing. You, 598, Testing is to make sure that you did commit the crime that you’ve been arrested for, among other things. You’ll go second,” 723 says. He crosses over to the monitor and types a series of commands. 374 drops to the ground. I look at him, yearning to get off this wall but, at the same time, terrified of what would happen when I do.

723 yanks 374 across the room by the ear, disappearing through the door he originally came through.

Fifteen minutes pass. I try to ignore the thoughts of what is going on behind that door, try to ignore the horrible feeling of infinite terrifying possibilities.

Finally, 723 returns. 374 looks pale and shaken as he climbs back into his spot. I hear the electromagnets engage.

After another series of commands, I, too, fall to the floor. I don’t anticipate how far I fall, and I feel a jarring pain in my legs, but I ignore it. 723 won’t have to pull my ear.

After the door is another room, a thick layer of white paint on the concrete walls and floor. A cold steel chair sits waiting in the center.

723 puts a warm, rough hand on my back and shoves me into it. I sit obediently, submissive with terror, shivering as I remember a saying from before the Republic formed. Warm hands, cold heart. This man has to have the coldest heart of all.

“Shall we begin?” He doesn’t wait for my response.

He moves around busily, first sticking me with a needle, then fiddling around with small pieces of plastic and wires. He keeps touching my head. Electrodes. He’s going to send artificial signals to my brain, probably to make me tell the truth. He finishes sticking them to my head, then slides a syringe into my neck, injecting me with some unknown substance. My body quickly goes limp, all sensation fading. I try to slow my panicked breathing as best I can, but it doesn’t help at all. The anticipation is scarier than anything this could possibly do.

“What happened last week?” 723 asks.

“Last week?” I gasp. “Nothing happened last week.” This I know is true.

Looking at a computer screen, 723 shakes his head, another sneer spreading across his face. “Wrong answer.”

Everything explodes. Pain like nothing I’ve ever felt before screams through my body, reaching places I didn’t know could hurt. No it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts oh my gosh make it stop FUCK make it stop please make it STOP—

It stops. I gasp for air. “Oh, I’m sorry,” 723 says, grinning. “You don’t know how long you’d been out. Yeah . . . a week. Let’s just call that question . . . a trial run.” I’m crying too hard to say anything.

723 laughs a little, leaning close to my face. “Do you want to try a different question?”

I can’t answer. I don’t know what the right answer is.

“I think you do. What do you do when you get upset?”

I gulp, trying to speak between sobs. What kind of question is that? “Um. I . . . I . . .”

A flash of pain. I let out a pained yelp. “Is that your answer?”

I give a stifled groan. “I’m trying I'm trying I’m trying!” 723 raises his eyebrows. I look away quickly. I take a few deep breaths, trying to stay as calm as I can. Don’twannahurt don’twannahurt. “I . . . I normally go to my room or something?”

723 nods. “Interesting. Would you like to elaborate?”

I whimper. “I want to go home.”

More pain. My vision starts to go fuzzy at the edges. Nononono make it stop make it stop— 723 grins. “Another wrong answer. Try again?”

My breath is coming in ragged gasps. I can tell I’m on the verge of unconsciousness. My voice is small. “Okay. I . . .” I glance at 723, terrified, and answer the rest of the question in a panic. “I dunno I just try to be alone and calm down its not like anyone wanted to talk to me or anything and I spent all my time in my room anyway so.”

723 smiles. “That’s more like it.” A quick flash of pain.  

I whimper again. “Please stop I answered the question stop hurting me!”

“Oops! My bad. Technical difficulties.”

No. You're just having fun.

The rest of the session passes in the same fashion. He asks his questions, and I answer. If he doesn’t like what I say, the pain returns.

I assume it only lasts fifteen minutes, just like 374’s, but there is no way of knowing. I black out twice, or maybe it’s three times. I have no way of knowing. The whole thing just feels like one long, painful blur.  

Finally, 723 releases the restraints. I can barely walk now; my nerves are too busy screaming with pain, but I do so anyway. I am escorted back into the holding room, where 374 eyes me with pity. Once 723 leaves the room, he speaks to me.

“Longest fifteen m-minutes of your, of your life, huh?” he says. His voice is kind, understanding. “I w-wonder what on, what on earth a sev-ven-year-old could do to, do to get here.”

I hesitate for a moment, then I speak, my voice cracking. “I accidentally killed someone.”

“Aww, well then,” 723 says, bursting back into the room. “Isn’t this nice?” 374 and I exchange frightful looks. “No, no, it’s alright. 374, if you think what she did was an accident, you’ve been lied to,” he grins, pleasure streaking across his face. “I’m sure you want to know what 374 did, isn’t that right, 598? He stole from the Government. And once we fill up—” he glances at the other eight spots, “—you’ll all receive your punishment.”

723 leaves. "D-dammit, I stole a p-pencil! It’s n-not like, like I stole, um, a b-bomb or anything," 374 shouts, straining against the wall.  

Slowly, warily, I start thinking. Was it on purpose? No, I don’t think so. I love my mother. I wouldn’t do anything like that, would I? Maybe I would . . . no. I shake myself mentally. This 723, this psychopath, is making me doubt myself. I didn’t do it on purpose. I know I didn’t do it on purpose.

The lights never dim. My innate sense of time almost slips from my grasp, only saved by the marking of six hours, represented by the cold nutrient fluid running through the IV in my back. Every third time, sedatives are added to the fluid. We sleep for six hours, then we are woken up by another rush of liquid food. I’m almost grateful for the sedatives, and whatever keeps us sleeping deep enough that six hours easily replaces twelve. The lights are bright enough that I know I could never sleep on my own. Time almost becomes meaningless in this blank, white room.

And day after day, the Testing sessions go on.

#child abuse #child abuse tw #torture #torture tw #whump #whumper #whumpee #blood tw #death tw #murder tw #723 #598 #374 #neeldes tw #medical tw #iv #Testing #the Wall #Republic of Silence #Complex #electrocution? #always looking for feedback here #Project Driscoll #whump community #whump blog #writing #writeblr #original writing #original characters #oc

[kandyrezi]

nothing but a heartache;

fandom: wadanohara and the great blue sea

characters/pairings: tsuribari/stella

summary: “tsuribari wondered why his chest ached painfully everytime he thought of or looked at the pretty yet sullen starfish girl.” | word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death and drowning.

from a prompt: muse feels a sharp pain in their chest every time they think of their lover (or someone/thing they love)

///

tsuribari has held great distaste for a lot of things the more time that he’s been forced spend around the various people and the sea creatures who aimlessly floated around him, sprouting nothing but nonsense - as if they were mocking him. the annoying noisy places that surrounded him, no matter where he was, the buzzing at the back of his head never seemed to cease. how thickheaded everyone could be, how no one took his words seriously or dismissed him as some insignificant being, how no one appreciated a bit of silence every now and then - or better yet, just not talk at all, sew their mouths shut if he could.

(annoyances. annoyances. annoyances. nothing but.)

he chooses to sit in one of the more secluded areas of the red sea, the wooden building firm against his back as rotting seaweed grew from the sandy ground and engulfed the corners of the decaying white building, until it would inevitably vanish completely and leave nothing behind after a decennial or so. just like everything else in this sea.

stella gently leans her head against his shoulder whilst holding her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her ankles. he notices her occasionally peering at the text inside the book he was reading to her (of two children kidnapped by a cannibalistic witch living in a house constructed of cookies, sweets, and other confectionery), otherwise keeping her gaze on her feet, or away from him, at the very least as to not bother him too much. whilst normally not being too keen on physical contact - even if he barely feels anything - he’d made an exception for one person.

the only one, really, he thinks.

“bookworm, bookworm, i finally get the pun, mwhee-hee! why do you always have your nose stuck in a book, worm?”

tsuribari stops reading out-loud mid-sentence, gaze hardening and fingertips gripping the edges of the cover a bit too harshly. of course sheep, of everyone, had to come taunt him and disturb the peace, yet nothing he’s not used to already. the starfish girl next to him fortunately doesn’t appear deterred in the slightest at the intrusion and continues making herself comfortable against him. the blond boy can only sigh, lowering the book only ever so slightly, barely giving them a glance.

“could you leave? you’re distracting me.”

he thinks they try too hard, no childish insult could aggravate him more than he already was at everything.

well, just about everything.

- : - : - : - : - : -

as long as he could remember, the pretty starfish - equally as apparitional and so unfeeling - girl had been alongside him, ever since when he drowned in the blue-coated sea and she’d been the first to find him. he remembered it vividly. he hated the memory, yet refused to let go of it. he’d woken up in an unknown place, everything had been swimming in front of him, both figuratively and in a very literal sense. a place so unlike of where he had never been to previously.

he could only deduce the fact he was indeed underwater, bleak and cold, something painful piercing through his head that kept him from moving on his own. there was blood in the corners of his vision, small indefinite amounts of it falling in front of him, then immediately merging with the water as it faded into minuscule drops off into the distance – upon letting his fingers graze across his scalp, brushing against something smooth and metallic that was merged with his skin, blood oozing around it as his fingers became coated in it. he flinched from the pain, his breathing felt odd and uneven – he could still breathe, but just barely.

as he began to wiggle his way around, something had moved in the distance, towards him, closer. he saw the tail slowly moving back and forth behind the sea creature, taunting its presence. his uneven breathing grew worse and his lungs felt on fire, he tried to run away, move in any way, but his feet would not allow him to. the figure in the distant grew, the nearer it swam towards him. seaweed tangled around his thighs, keeping him in place even tighter.

the blood flowing from his forehead was no doubt fresh bait for the hungry fish. the young worm boy’s panicking only grew worse at the realization, what he could only imagine being either due to lack of air or extreme anxiety caused by shock, causing him to subconsciously close his eyes and pass out.

(fear.)

it had been quiet when his eyelids slowly opened and he woke again. staring up into the beaming sunlight bathing in the tides of the sea from up above, as the blurred objects merged into a clear image, he realized he was in an entirely different area. coral plants in magenta and leaves bigger than him from earthly-colored plants circled around him as he tried to properly inspect his surroundings while groggily sitting up. still underwater unfortunately, he dully noted. there was now solid ground underneath his feet, rather rocky and not very comfortable to lay on, he decided as he rose onto his knees.

whilst inspecting, he saw that he wasn’t entirely on his own anymore, when he looked at a girl young as himself, in brunette twin-tails held in place with golden starfish and a purple uniform with a skirt, staring back at him. in wonder, perhaps, much like himself.

he sunk his fingers into his knees to stop them from shaking relentlessly. dark irises trailed back and forth, unsure what to focus his attention on with a million inquires running through his head.

“w-who are you?”

the young girl looked away timidly, instead choosing to fiddle with the hem of her skirt for a little while.

when she finally introduced herself as ‘stella’, she spoke so quietly, he tried to tune out the hammering of his heart beating against his chest, instead trying to focus on the sound of her voice. the starfish girl still refused to meet his eyes, not quite sure if she should say anything else.

it was silent between the two for about a minute.

“i took you to a safe place… away from… them.”

her voice was hoarse when she tried to speak at first, like she’s not used to doing so for long periods of time.

his fear subdued when she did though, if only by a little bit. the heart in his chest was still beating rapidly and unevenly (feeling a slight tinge of discomfort, but he felt grateful to be alive, nonetheless). he tried to reach his hand on atop of his forehead. a smooth, metallic item was still impaled through his skull and blood was still leaking from around it, though not as severely as before. thinking about it like that made him grimace, nearly becoming woozy.

after only a moment of hesitation, did he finally decide to give her his own name.

“i’m... tsuribari.”

a couple more minutes passed by in silence, only the sounds of underwater plants swaying left and right, leaves brushing against one another ringing in his ears.

“...i’ve been alone for... a while.” stella explained, though not offering much insight.

but tsuribari thought there wasn’t much of a need to. despite having preferred to spend most of his time in solitude, he knew what made others tick when he learned to observe them from afar.

“i don’t know how i got here... either.” he responded with a worry of his own.

abandoned. just like him.

he had a feeling he wouldn’t be returning home anytime soon. wherever home was anymore and if it even existed.

“...i’m scared.” tsuribari confessed with a slight quiver in his voice.

she didn’t know how to respond. comfort was a foreign concept to the starfish. stella did the only thing she could think of and slowly extended her hand towards his own, gently brushing against his fingers and grasped them, intertwining them together. his nerves had calmed down by then as he allowed her to hold his hand, no longer did he feel the suffocating agony of his throat being tightened from fright. at least he had something - or someone - to confide in.

she almost understood him the same way that he did, expressing her distress and gloom with no needed words, her solemn expression and gestures spoke for themselves.

(fear. reluctant acceptance.)

fingers intertwined as they wandered, stepping on the glistening roads made of rocks, keeping the other from falling down and bonding over the mutual feeling of being thrown away and discarded. he took in the waves of the sea now that the threat of being eaten alive wasn’t looming over him. the waves did seem to get harsher the longer they spent time out there. on land, it would have reminded him of an incoming storm (he held her hand a little tighter, just to be secure). it was a fairly secluded area where nobody would wander to without a reason.

there wasn’t a single fish in sight, other than the occasional whale shark or some other potential predator, when stella had made sure to pull the both of them out of its sight, behind a boulder of rocks big as themselves for cover.

stella told him of the war between the daughters of the sea king for their rightful place as the throne’s next princess, and tsuribari listened with intent. one of them, princess mikotsu, was on the verge of losing and it was only a question of time when the sea would split between the two sisters.

“that... seems unfair.”

stella hummed, in quiet agreement, the boy assumed.

“where will you be going, then?” he decided to ask.

“...the rightful princess.”

tsuribari could only assume that he would have to make his own judgment when the time came for it.

stella appeared just a little less taciturn when talking about something else besides herself, so tsuribari thought of asking her to tell more stories of the kingdom and its residents (a culture he hadn’t even been aware of back on land), and if they were heading somewhere at all.

they came to a sudden halt when - with hardly any warning signs - tsuribari’s legs gave out from underneath him, causing him to collapse and letting his hand slip from her own. his heart was beating rapidly once again, whereas before it was discomforting at worst, this time it felt as if his chest was going to burst at any second. panic welled up inside of him again, not understanding what was wrong with him.

dying. he was dying slowly, agonizing with the pain he was in, he came to the realization as tears threatened to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

blood seeped across his face from the wound of the hook stuck in his forehead, gradually beginning to pool around his eyes, which he could barely keep open. he saw stella kneeling by him, holding onto the sleeves of his shirt, trying to stop him from writhing and shaking.

the waves of the sea still hadn’t calmed down.

he felt cold. so very cold.

“i d-don’t want you to die. please… w-we’ll find help.” stella’s voice quivered. it was the most emotion he’d heard in her voice so far.

he just wished it’d been a different emotion.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then...)

he felt his heart stop beating, one last time. it was painful, but he was glad she was the one he was looking at as the last thing before he’d passed out.

he didn’t need to be afraid.

- : - : - : - : - : -

“how cute, the two of you. if only old would let me lean against him, but he just gets mad everytime i touch him, mwheehee~” sheep grins.

tsuribari lifts the book again high enough on purpose to block his vision from the ammonite.

“redirect your infatuation problems towards someone who actually cares.”

it seems to work, when he hears them humming slightly and finally leaving, but not before throwing some more remarks his way.

“how stingy. i won’t interrupt the young lovers’ alone time then~”

he doesn’t much (not in the slightest) like their mocking tone of voice as they said it.

tsuribari sighs quietly.

it’s tranquil again for the time being, as much as it could be in the sea, just between him and his companion. not a lot has changed between the two of them, he thinks, with the exception stella has been noticeably more quiet than before in the blue sea, even towards him. he didn’t mind it however, those types of people were indeed rare. even if her solemn expressions and gestures meant little else to most others, he could read them like a book, her hatred and contempt for this world, much like--

much li--

--his train of thought is interrupted when he feels a weird jolt of pain go directly through where his beating heart is supposed to be. he flinches at the unexpected sting and shifted around a bit in discomfort.

as far he knows, he is supposed to be dead - to put bluntly - and not feel anything, as any corpse should not. maybe it were just some strange side effects that happened after a while of being deceased. it’s been somewhat of a long time, while he’s lost count of the years, he should still know. but he’s felt nothing but dullness all this time, so it would be strange now.

his mind momentarily wanders, and thinks about whether or not anyone else - particularly stella, the starfish still dozing off next to him - felt the same--

--and the same annoying heartache is there again, making him grimace. he places a hand on his chest. he could not even describe it, it felt like very regular pain, like a stomachache. unexpectedly harsh at first, lasting for mere moments then fading off.

“…what’s wrong?” stella asks tiredly after a long pause of silence. he must’ve been ‘acting’ so strange it even woke and drove her to speak. he was reading to her before, up until it seemed she wasn’t listening anymore and had dozed off.

- : - : - : - : - : -

when he had woken up again, there wasn’t anymore pain in his chest.

it was dark, echoing sounds of howling in the distance. he tried to adjust his vision to see what was supposed to be in front of him, though it didn’t seem to accomplish much. only an odd, unprecedented sight continued to stare back. whereas before the gentle radiance of sunlight had gleamed upon him, he couldn’t spot anything remotely resembling something that would be classed as natural light and the blue waves of the sea blending together.

red.

he saw the crimson-colored remains of what might have been the sea he was in previously. everything felt murkier. looking around, he almost began panicking again, when he spotted the familiar sight of his friend. his only friend.

in relief, he began pacing towards her - before stopping abruptly.

whereas before she seemed more timid and struck with grief, he saw something completely new mixed in this time around. lethargy. she seemed to not be bothered in the slightest by their situation.

he deciding to adjust and follow her lead.

even though stella hadn’t given him any particular description of the two potential heiresses of the throne, there was still something peculiar about the fish hovering in the distance, the familiar forlorn look of someone who had been discarded and thrown away - yet she was determined to not let that deter her, the air of excessive importance and bloodthirst for vengeance hung heavily around her.

her eye had been scratched out and the red-rimmed wilts under her eyes suggested she’d been crying heavily.

yet it was still the princess who had... saved him?

he frowned deeply at the fishhook still embedded inside his skull, a dull throbbing around his gaping wound still present. still.

was it really worth living the way he did though, he wondered briefly. would it have simply been better if he had died strung pathetically around that rope, his body being ripped apart by a shark with teeth sharper than a knife. would it have been better to have felt pain only for a few seconds, then passed away quietly, than to continue living in a way that felt like he was stuck between limbo and the afterlife. maybe then, the sea wouldn’t feel so cold, nor his skin so numb.

stella decided to quietly approach him herself, trying to reach and grasp his hand.

except he shook her off this time, instead choosing to look back with a dull, bored look at a new gaze standing in front of him.

he didn’t look whether or not that had hurt her at all. it didn’t matter at that point. he was the one who was hurting the most after all (aside from the princess maybe, from the looks of it).

a pair of ruby-red eyes belonging to a white shark, gazing at him with a knowing, sadistic smile.

(fear. reluctant acceptance. indifference. then antipathy.)

“welcome to the sea of death, little one.”

- : - : - : - : - : -

“…nothing. forget about it.” he says in a bored voice as usual - there’s a tinge of irritation in it than how he normally spoke. would it have been directed towards anybody else, they likely wouldn’t have noticed, but he wonders if stella did. choosing not to even look at her, as he gripped his shirt and tugged at it, hiding the torturous twinge at the center.

the boy tries to shut off his mind for now and focus on his book instead, as he turns away with his entire body, with his back now facing her, not bearing the burden of seeing her crestfallen expression. he doesn’t want to feel the same pain again that he did when he’d woken in the sea and died for the first time all those years ago.

why did he have to suffer, when the others deserved it so much more.

#mogeko #funamusea #watgbs #tsuribari (watgbs) #stella (watgbs) #tsuritella #okegom #dsp #deep-sea prisoner #oounabara to wadanohara #ficlets #tsuribari #stella #wadanohara #sea of death #this is one of my longer fics... #and yes it's also a rewrite of one of my older ones... #gif credit to bandeau on wattpad

[sunshineandfangs]

For You, Love

Step 5: Teenage Dreams (High School or College)

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue​ 

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, cheating

Caroline fiddled with one of the flower arrangements, letting her practiced smile fall as she faced the wall. She could hear the whispers, the mutters that followed her in the hallway these past few days. About how bad they felt that she and Tyler broke up. And just before Prom too. Why isn’t that just awful? She finished straightening the last of the roses with an agitated huff, whirling with a new pageant queen smile pasted on her face. 

Everything was perfectly fine.

A scowl painted itself across her face as her eyes landed on several disarranged tables. There was a clearly labeled floor plan, how were they managing to screw it up?! Unfortunately, she didn’t see the assigned volunteers anywhere nearby for her to chew out, so she stalked over to move them herself.

“Whatever did the table do to you, sweetheart?”

Her scowl worsened at the sound of that painfully familiar British accent and she threw a glare over her shoulder.

“What do you want?”

“Just to help, love.”

His expression appeared earnest, and it was the last straw. How dare he.

She snarled in his face, not even sure when she moved so close.

“I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but you need to leave. Right now.”

The asshole had the nerve to look startled and confused, holding his arms up as if he were innocent.

“Caroline, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but take a breath, love, you’re causing a scene.”

She bit her lip as she took a surreptitious glance around, suddenly noticing the glances in their direction. Just what she needed. And there Klaus was looking perfectly reasonable. It was too much. She could feel angry tears starting to gather in the corner of her eyes. Whirling to hide them, she beat as hasty a retreat as she could manage, trying to keep her walk calm.

A few moments later she was out of the school gymnasium and bursting into the first lady’s room she could find. Bracing her hands on the cold porcelain of the sink, Caroline tried to steady her breathing. 

Staring into the scratched metal of the drain her anger fizzled into hurt, vision blurring with unbidden tears.

God she was so stupid.

Caroline’s face felt frozen as she took in the sight right before her eyes. Tyler, her boyfriend Tyler, with his hands up one of her cheerleader’s skirts. His shirt bunched in her hands, her’s pulled down to expose her bra.

They were barely even hiding, fooling around under the bleachers of all places!

God she couldn’t breath.

Perhaps she made some kind of noise, as despite their lustful fervor, Tyler froze for a second before spinning to face her, stepping in front of the girl in an awful, ironic display of chivalry.  His eyes widened when he saw it was her.

“Why?” She managed to croak out.

His expression looked guilty for half a moment before it transformed into a sneer.

“Oh, come on, Caroline, don’t act like you’re innocent here either.”

She flinched backward, stunned at his accusation.

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. Like I and half the school don’t know about you and Mikaelson.”

Mikaels-?

“Klaus?” She blurted out in shock.

“So you do admit it.”

“Admit what?” She half-shrieked. “Tyler, Klaus and I have talked a handful of times. We’re barely friends, if that.”

Perhaps she did nurse a bit of a crush from her freshman year when he and his family were the mysterious British transfer students. Handsome and a year older what girl didn’t swoon at least a little? But she had already been dating Tyler at the time and she had never acted on it. They really had only spoken a few times recently. And as charming as he seemed, crush or no crush, she was not a cheater.

“Still playing innocent, huh? Perfect little Caroline Forbes who could never do anything wrong?”

Caroline didn’t know where all this vitriol was coming from. ...Had he always thought of her like that? The pit that had formed in her gut from the moment she peered under the bleachers lurched. She licked her dry lips, not sure where she summoned the strength from to speak her next words so steadily.

“If that’s really how you feel, then consider yourself freed. We’re done.”

Spinning on her heel, Caroline marched away in a daze. Tyler might have shouted something after her, but she didn’t process it. 

...And he didn’t come after her.

Somehow she found herself near the boy’s locker room. Just in time to receive her second blow of the day. Truly, she was a phenomenal judge of character.

“Yo, Mikaelson, how’s the bet? Fucked Miss Head Bitch yet? Lockwood clearly hasn’t been.”

It was all she could stand to hear before she sprinted out of there. Thankfully cheer practice was over and no one would think it odd she had gone. Finding herself in the woods, Caroline slumped against a tree wondering how she could have been so, so wrong.

“Caroline…” A quiet voice broke through her chance. She didn’t bother to turn, letting her hair fall in a curtain around her face shielding her from view, knuckles whitening.

“I know,” she said equally quiet, no trace of her tears in her voice.

A sharp intake of breath sounded behind her and she heard his steps gingerly approach her.

“Tell me what you think you know, Caroline.” It was said delicately, but she still snapped at the word think.

She made a quick swipe at her tears before she spun to face him.

“What I know is that you have some disgusting, misogynistic bet going to have sex with me. Well, good luck with that. Because it’s never going to happen.”

She moved to storm past him and out of the bathroom, surprised when he actually moved out of her way. It was the only reason she hesitated when he called after her.

“I know you have no reason to trust me, Caroline, but please give me a chance to explain what you heard.”

She scoffed and continued walking away.

Down the hall, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A quick check revealed it was a message from Klaus.

You have my number if you change your mind.

Shaking her head she shoved her phone back in her pocket.

Caroline sipped her coffee, basking in one of the rare mornings that her mom was still home for breakfast.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I want you to be careful. I know you’ve spent some time with the Mikaelson boy recently.”

Jerking, Caroline moved her mug away from her face, having nearly spilt it into her lap.

“What?”

Her mom had a slightly irritated expression on her face as she elaborated. “It’s vexing, but the Mikaelson’s are incredibly wealthy and generous donors. Carol didn’t want to make waves. Even though he’s eighteen he just got suspended rather than charged with anything.”

This was not clearing anything up, and she spluttered, “What? Charged?”

Frowning her mom continued, “They really did do a good job keeping it under wraps if you haven’t heard. Klaus beat several of his teammates bloody. Not enough to actually break anything, but they’ll be absent for a few days.”

Tightening her grip on her mug to hide the slight tremor of her fingers, she asked, “When did this happen?”

“Last week.”

“...What day?”

Her mother looked concerned. “Wednesday, why?”

Caroline tried for nonchalance. “No reason. It’s just I realized that’s why I hadn’t seen him around in school.”

“You’re not seeing him are you?” Her mother inquired sharply.

“No, of course not. I barely know him.”

She still looked suspicious, but for once Caroline was grateful for her mom’s busy schedule as she had to hurry out the door a few moments later. A final warning given as she left.

Monday passed in a blur, Caroline’s thoughts tumbling like a whirlwind. Wednesday was the day she broke up with Tyler…

“Thank you for-”

Caroline held up a hand. “Stop. Just tell me what happened.”

Recrossing her arms, she kept her expression blank and waited.

Klaus shifted, running a hand through his curls, muttering a quiet ‘right’ to himself. After a moment he steadied himself, looking her directly in the eye as he spoke.

“I admit there was a bet. Which wasn’t very well done of me, but it was not as crude as to include having sex with you. I was only meant to talk to you, convince you to like me. They thought you were stuck up and well, bitchy.” He paused seeming to catch the way her mask faltered for a second, but had the decency to not mention it. “I, well, I did too at first, but then I spoke to you. Discovered you were beautiful, strong, full of light I couldn’t help but enjoy your presence.”

Caroline cleared her throat, “And the rumors?”

He shook his head. “I had no idea about those either, swee- Caroline. Apparently, some of them were taunting Lockwood. Alluding to the bet without admitting what it was, making everything seem far worse than it was.”

She stepped a bit closer. “So you say. Then why did I hear, how was it put? Ah yes, have you fucked Miss Head Bitch yet?” Caroline kept her voice steely despite how the words felt like acid in her mouth.

His expression darkened before his eyes fluttered closed, a pained grimace on his face.

“No wonder you thought so poorly of me…” He muttered. Reopening his eyes, he too took a step closer.

“I don’t know why he decided to say that. I don’t know how the minds of such scum function, but I assure you he paid for it.”

“So my mom told me.”

Klaus startled, weight shifting back on his heel. “You know.”

Caroline cocked a brow. “Why did you think I gave you this chance in the first place? It certainly wasn’t trust.”

“...You approve?”

A scoff. “Of your caveman tendencies toward violence? No, not at all.” Her expression softened a tad. “But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

His eyes traced over her face as he weighed her words, and he tentatively moved forward again, extending his hand while looking hesitantly hopeful.

“Friends, then?”

Her eyes flickered down to look at it before returning his gaze. She paused, long enough that he started to falter, before taking his hand in hers.

“Probationary. So don’t screw up again, Mikaelson.” She offered him a slight lip quirk.

His face lit up before he managed to school it into a more casual smirk.

“I can work with that, sweetheart.”

AN: I’m pretty pleased with how this went considering I often struggle with Human AU focused ideas. I hope you enjoy it!

#12KCXMAS #Klaroline Shippers Club #Klaroline #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #My Writing

[paladin-andric]

Blackheart, Chapter 26: Tourthun’s Legacy

“Basilrin.”

“Yes…?” the still grieving dragon looked down at the knight, fighting to see through his blurred vision.

“You should go back. See if the others are okay. If they are...you can come back with them and regroup. That way we can all stick together.”

The green dragon took a step back from his brother’s corpse, eyes shut. He slowly began to nod.

“Right...father...I should see if he is well...”

He was clearly still reeling from the revelation that his brother was buried in that monster somewhere, that he could have been saved.

It must have hurt so much. Alexander had experienced something similar, but only with fellow soldiers. To have it happen to family, to someone you have spent your entire life with, and loved with all of your heart…

“Basilrin.”

The dragon was facing away, though he glanced back the sound of his name. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Basilrin winced. “I...I do not blame you. I do not blame anyone. I...I only wish…”

He turned back around, head lowered.

“...that things could have gone differently,” Alexander finished.

“Right.”

The knight nodded.

“I know the feeling,” he spoke, a bitterness stinging his words, “It’ll take time, but...it’ll start to hurt less.”

“Less…?”

Alexander frowned. “It never goes away...but it stops being all you think about.”

Basilrin nodded solemnly. “I see. Thank you, noble knight.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The green dragon rumbled. “I will return. Be safe.”

“Good luck.”

With that, Basilrin unfurled his wings and launched into the air, quickly flying Eastward and back to the rest of the group.

Now they were but a small portion of the entire group. Four remained at this entrance. Two humans, a kobold and a dragon.

Almost sounds like the start of a bad joke.

The knight sighed and looked back to the cavern. Though he peered intently, he couldn’t see much of anything. Just a large, blank passageway inside, quickly fading into darkness. Beyond the outlines of the walls, nothing more could be seen.

Go inside.

It was…a strange desire. Alexander was surprised at how badly he wanted to see what was inside.

He found himself taking a step forward. Then another. And another.

“Alexander?”

It was Leianna.

“We should move,” he said in a low voice, “All of this will have been for nothing if we don’t take advantage of discovering one of their lairs.”

“I mean...okay? I suppose.”

The knight shrugged. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Senci frowned, slowly creeping over to the two humans. He had been quiet since Julroul died, and only now seemed to be regaining his composure.

“Oh, God,” the kobold muttered, “W-what do you think is inside?”

“Something important.”

The trio gathered close to one another, weapons drawn as they stood at the mouth of the cave. Each one stared ahead, nervously anticipating whatever trials were ahead of them.

Alexander took a deep breath. “Okay...here we go.”

The knight took the first step inside, quickly followed by the Leianna and Senci. Tourthun quietly followed, taking soft steps, as not to shake the earth and cause a ruckus.

The first thing Alexander noticed was that this cavern seemed to be a straight hallway of sorts. It was wide and tall, but seemed to serve only to bring anyone entering to whatever important thing lay at the end.

The next, and only other thing the knight could make out was that this cavern was DARK. With the fog casting the city in shadow, and no lights along the cavern, it quickly became nearly impossible to see.

“Err...Leianna? Senci? Either of you-”

“On it,” Leianna answered. Alexander could hear her fiddling with something for a few moments until a stroke of vision came and went, before the sound of a plume of flames heralded the arrival of light.

The entire area around them was bathed in the dim and red light of a torch, being held up by the cleric herself. The flames danced across the torch and brought clarity to the cavern around them.

As it appeared at first, it truly was a simply hallway, albeit massive so that dragons could fit through it. It was barren and stretched far ahead of them, still in darkness and outside the torch’s light.

“Well...onward, than.” Alexander gave a nod and the group continued moving.

They walked for several minutes, time seeming to stretch on and on as they kept walking with nothing in sight.

“How big is this place…?” Leianna wondered out loud.

“Only one way to find out,” Tourthun spoke in a near-whisper.

The knight began to sweat heavily. The heat from the torch next to him, combined with the surprisingly warm and humid cavern interior was making him burn up inside his suit. He could feel his clothes underneath all his layers of armor being soaked with sweat as they ventured deeper and deeper into the cave system.

“Mmm...very warm,” Senci noted, sounding quite pleased.

“Indeed,” Tourthun replied, also seeming cheery about it.

Ah, they’re cold-blooded, aren’t they…? Well, actually I don’t know. Never learned about that sort of stuff. Huh.

Though their conversation was light, Alexander felt...wrong. There was something in the air, something that made the hairs on his arms stand up and his breaths to be quicker and shallower.

He could feel an overwhelming sense of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. Something terrible was just around the corner.

That feeling didn’t go away as he marched on, and it seemed the others could feel it too. Their chatter died out and there was palpable tension between them.

“Leianna?”

“What?” Her response was little more than a bark. She was on edge, to be certain.

“Something’s wrong.”

The cleric grunted. “I can feel...a great evil here. There’s something dark in these walls.”

“M-maybe we should go back!” Senci squeaked, “Then we can return with everyone else and all do this together!”

Alexander paused. “That’s...not a bad idea.”

“I guess so,” Leianna said with a sigh, “Don’t want another screw up…damn it, fine. Let’s go.”

As they turned to begin walking back however, they were frozen to the ground in shock.

Past Tourthun, back where they had come from...were figures standing in the shadows.

There were so many, and their outlines stood against the dim light of the entrance far away.

Everyone was silent, Tourthun included. For several long moments, the group and the shadows stood motionless, staring at one another.

After a few moments, Leianna slowly stepped forward and held her torch out. The light crept forward, bathing the first line of figures in light.

Demons.

Not the corrupted, demons.

Dozens of them. Standing shoulder to shoulder. Varied in appearance. Various shades of red, purple and black. Some resembling monsters and beasts, some looking like the demons from most tales heard by the masses.

And this was just the first row. There were so many more in the shadows, figures blocking out the small glimmers of light from the outside.

There must have been hundreds of them.

“You’ll be going nowhere,” a deep voice called out. It was unmistakable. Alexander could recognize it as the demon from Tourthun’s cave.

The red dragon took action immediately. He whirled around and unfurled his wings, launching past the group in a blur. As he passed, his claws reached out and snatched them up, taking hold of them as he sped down the cave.

Alexander couldn’t see anything with his vision obscured by the massive talons of the dragon. As he sat curled up, movement locked by Tourthun’s tight grip of him, he heard that all too familiar explosion of magic.

The accursed beams of death that ate away anything caught within.

He could feel Tourthun whip to the side just as the explosion rang out. It seemed as luck would have it, the path suddenly took a sharp turn, providing them cover against the demons for a time.

The knight could hear many voices, all wrong sounding. The cacophony of unholy noise made him shudder as they flew further inside.

He wished he could just SEE what was happening, being in the dark and unable to know whether they were safe or not began to infuriate him as they ventured ever deeper, Tourthun twisting and turning as he continued flying down the great path.

After some time of this, Alexander felt shock as the claws around him let go, leaving him to drop to the ground with a noisy clang.

The knight shook his head and began to climb back to his feet, looking around as he did so.

They were in what appeared to be a massive, square room. The entire place was lined in a bizarrely patterned stone, runed and glowing red. It was mostly barren...except for a few key items.

In the middle of the room, a large, glasslike protrusion rose from the ground, mist pouring free from it. It greatly unnerved Alexander. Something about it made him shiver just from looking at it. There was an unnatural light from its gleaming specks and angles.

Nearby, a robed figure was sprawled out on the ground, face and body obscured by their robes. They were the only other person in the room.

At the far end of the room, away from the entrance...a trapdoor was sitting, closed and unassuming.

“Tourthun…? Where are we?”

“This is...the end of the cave,” the dragon answered. Something about his voice conveyed a terror the beast couldn’t keep hidden, as much as he tried.

“Who’s this?” Alexander asked, walking over to the robed figure. Leianna moved up as well and flipped the prone person over.

It was a woman, and undoubtedly human. Her face was aged, though not elderly. Her gaze was blank, and her body was motionless.

“Leianna, is she…?”

The cleric placed a hand on the woman, eyes closing as she readied her magic.

“She’s...dead,” the cleric spoke, sounding shocked, “Out here in Julroul’s hideout...who in the world…?”

Tourthun’s eyes widened. “That...that is her!”

“Who?” Senci asked.

“The one I spoke of! The woman I saw!”

“The sorcerer…” Alexander said breathlessly.

“She died…?” Leianna shook her head as she examined the now dead woman.

“That...what was she doing here? What the hell was she doing here? And how the hell are we gonna find out now?!”

“She was holding this.”

Leianna held up a large, blue stone. It was larger than the palm of her hand, and seemed to radiate a faint light.

“Huh.”

“Friends…”

Tourthun still carried that frightened, worried tone in his voice.

“I do not mean to alarm you, but...there were no other paths in the caves. This is the only place it led to, and there appears to be only one exit…”

Leianna looked over to the trapdoor. “Ah, great! Let’s take the stone and go, than.”

As she began to walk towards the door, she froze.

“Wait…that means…”

“Tourthun can’t fit,” Alexander finished.

The dragon let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, I can simply…”

Tourthun walked over to the trapdoor and raised a leg before slamming it down into the wooden door, only…

As the wood burst apart, the dragon was suddenly knocked back with a bright spark of light.

“Huh…?”

The dragon reached down and tried to smash up the floor again, and once more, the ground flashed and his claws bounced off of the stone harmlessly.

“The...the demons have wrapped this room in protective magics.”

The dragon was starting to panic, now. Alexander could tell. He too started to worry. That meant that the only way out was...though hundreds of demons.

The dragon clicked his talons against the floor in thought before he stood up straight. “Ah, if I were to…”

He threw himself against the wall. He was thrown back, the wall showing no damage whatsoever.

The dragon then threw himself into the air, smashing in the ceiling in desperation...only to fall back to the ground without so much as a scratch on the earth that held back one of the mightiest beings in Deaco.

The dragon looked around in a furious panic. “I...there is...perhaps…”

“Leianna, your scrolls!” Alexander exclaimed, “The ones you saved him with before!”

For a moment, the knight’s heart fluttered with excitement...only for his joy to be shot down with a shake of the cleric’s head. Her face bore the look of absolute defeat.

“That...that was the only one I had. We...can’t warp.”

“Than that means…”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no NO.

Tourthun gritted his teeth. “I see...I can understand now. I...I cannot leave with you.”

“No,” the knight cried, “No, Leianna, dispel the magic!”

The cleric leaned down and placed her hand on the ground, divine energy flowing through her. The knight could hear several curses muttered under her breath as she worked, beginning to look tired already.

She stopped and stumbled back, giving the dragon a wide berth. “A-attack it.”

The dragon lifted up his claws high in the air, and swung downward with all of his, might, the entire earth shaking as his massive claws collided with the ground.

The great display of draconic power gave the group a brief sense of hope...only for the truth to be displayed as the dragon took his claws away from the impact area.

A single, tiny bit of stone was chipped, and nothing more.

“I...I’ve never seen such powerful wards in my life,” Leianna uttered, sounding completely spent.

“Oh my God..” Alexander stepped back as he saw what this meant.

Tourthun let out a shaky whimper as he came to his own conclusion.

“F-friends...I...I think this is...where we part ways.”

“NO!” Senci bellowed, “No, never!”

“There is only one escape from this place, and I cannot enter it.”

“No…” Leianna shook her head. “No, there must be something…”

“You...you should go,” Tourthun said softly. His eyes glistened, wet with forming tears. “They will be here at any moment.”

“We can’t just leave you,” Alexander whispered, feeling terror course through him for the first time in quite a while.

“It...it seems you have little choice.”

“NO!” Senci screamed, “No, no, no, no! I will NOT run away! I-if you can’t leave...I’ll stay!”

“Do no such thing!” Tourthun said angrily, “I forbid it!”

“We can beat them if we work together!” the kobold insisted.

Leianna shook her head. “Senci...there were hundreds. We could barely beat one with everyone else there.”

“This is not a winnable battle,” the knight agreed meekly.

“You...you can’t be serious!” Senci cried, tears forming in his eyes. “You aren’t really going to abandon him!”

“It is the only way for you to survive,” Tourthun answered sadly, “There is no other way.”

“There is ALWAYS another way! We can do it, together!”

“Senci…”

“Stop it! Stop giving up!” he wiped at his eyes, looking at the others angrily. “If...if you won’t stand by your friend...than I’ll just do it myself!”

“I told you to LEAVE!” Tourthun bellowed, “I command you, Senci!”

“NO! I won’t leave you! You can’t make me!”

“My death is in vain if you do not escape!” The dragon growled, “Do not betray my wishes!”

“B-but...but we’re friends.” Senci looked up at the dragon, wracked with grief. “Friends...friends stay at each other’s side to the very end.”

“The world is at stake,” Tourthun retorted, “You have to survive, so that you can close the Blackheart. Senci, please...let me go.”

“N-no...no, this isn’t right...this isn’t right!”

Leianna came up from behind and wrapped her arms around Senci, quickly pulling him away.

“H-hey! Stop! Let me go!” the kobold yelled, kicking and struggling as the much larger cleric began to drag him to the trapdoor.

“I’m sorry.”

“Leianna! I thought you cared! I thought you were good! That you didn’t abandon your friends! Stop it...STOP IT!”

“S-sometimes, you can’t do anything. You can’t always solve everything.”

Senci began to wail and cry as he struggled against the cleric. “Nooooo! No, he needs us! He needs our help! You’re abandoning him! Y-you’re gonna let him die!”

“I know,” Leianna answered, her own voice sounding as shattered as Senci’s.

As she cried, Alexander too could feel tears run down his face. Was this really who they were? People willing to let their friends die so they could save their own skin?

Had they really saved Tourthun all those times, just for him to be lost so pointlessly?

“Tourthun…” Alexander could hear a deep-seated sorrow in his voice that he couldn’t recall ever hearing before.

“My dear friend.”

The dragon looked down on the knight, tears flowing down his muzzle and dropping onto the ground. Despite that, he was smiling widely.

“Tourthun...I...I can’t...”

“Do not feel so bad. I...I had little to look forward to in the outside world. Besides...” the dragon looked up to the ceiling, smile widening.

“I...I can finally be with them again. I can finally see mother and father again.”

“Oh, God, Tourthun…”

“I apologize for wasting your time. I only wish I could have been of some actual help.”

“Y-you were amazing, Tourthun.”

“Nonsense.”

The dragon looked over to Senci, who was still screaming and crying as Leianna brought him to the trapdoor.

“Hurry along now, my dear friend. You need to put some distance in between yourself and the demons.”

Alexander could hardly believe it. This was really happening. This was really the end.

“I...Tourthun...I’m sorry we failed you.”

“You did nothing of the sort. You saved me so many times. It is only natural my luck ran out eventually. Besides...you made my final days wonderful. No one ever let me speak of my woes so.”

Alexander could only shake his head as he felt tears and a burning heat in his face.

“Hurry now...hurry! I will hold them for as long as I can. You MUST survive. The entire world is counting on you! Humanity, and all life is in YOUR hands! You must escape!”

The knight slowly began to back up, towards the exit and his companions. “Tourthun...I...I won’t let you be forgotten. I’m going to tell everyone, once this is over. The entire world will know of Tourthun, the Hero of Palethorn! I swear on my life!”

The dragon smiled wistfully, tears still flowing freely. “I appreciate it. Farewell...my dear friend. Bless you.”

“Tourthun...I’ll never forget you.”

The dragon watched him go, holding his smile as Alexander reluctantly climbed down the ladder under the trapdoor.

“Good luck Knight Alexander, hero and friend. I am honored to have met you.”

The narrow and winding rooms underneath the main caves were dark and claustrophobic, though no one dared even give that a second’s thought.

Senci still cried and screamed, begging to be let back. Begging for them to protect Tourthun. Leianna forced the kobold along with a sort of grim sorrow, looking utterly crestfallen at the small lizard’s pleas.

As they continued making their way through this small system of underground rooms, hoping to find another route out of the caves, Alexander couldn’t help but feel immense shame at his actions.

Senci was right. They should have stood alongside Tourthun. Friends stood up for one another to the bitter end. They should have fallen alongside their friend and left Andric, or one of the others to take up the mantle of their quest instead.

“P-please! He needs us! There’s still time! Please, we have to go back! We have to-”

A familiar noise cut Senci off. It was that sound. The one they had all grown to dread.

The explosion signaling a magical beam of pure death.

Immediately afterwards, the loud, bellowing cry of a dragon rang out. There were no more sounds after that.

Though he couldn’t see it, Alexander’s ears told him all he needed to know.

Tourthun was dead.

Senci broke into hysterics, wailing and screaming at the sounds above them.

It was too much. Utterly overwhelmed, all three of them collapsed to the floor, consumed by grief.

Alexander shook, slamming a fist into the wall beside him. His fury flared up as he stewed over one of the most bitter realizations he had even been forced to accept.

What he had been trying to avoid since the siege all that time ago, had just happened again. He had failed to save those counting on him.

“Those demons...I’ll kill them...I’ll slaughter them all!”

While his anger at the injustice burned fiercely, his sorrow ran even deeper. He swallowed hard and shook his head, fist still resting against the wall.

“God damn it...GOD, DAMN IT!”

He huffed and quivered in silence as Senci kept crying, Leianna sitting in silence, hands wrapped around the kobold and tears flowing down her face.

The knight looked back to where they had come from, still in disbelief and struggling to accept that this was real.

The dragon had done so much for him. They had fought together, he had brought them to wherever they needed to go. They had shared intimate details with one another, encouraged and promised to aid each other, both excited to become one another’s friend in the outside world. They had spoken of past, present and future, and become entangled in each other’s lives.

And now he was gone.

The knight shook his head, nose running and eyes watering, all hidden under his helmet. He took in a ragged breath as he thought over all how excited the dragon was to become a protector of humanity, to live among his friends in Havel again.

He thought of all the great and wonderful things the dragon would have done, if he had only been given the chance.

He thought about how unfair it all was.

He thought, and thought, and thought.

“Tourthun…I only wish...that things could have gone differently.”

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[philipronans]

for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

happy (late) halloween, and happy first day of nano! no one’s gonna care that i have an update for this fic, but i do and here have it i’m tired of looking at it

Necromancy, all things considered, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, sometimes you get to do the exciting stuff, like talking to the dead, or sitting in musty old basements waiting for the souls of the damned to visit. But most of the time it’s a hell of a lot more boring than that. Stumbling through a graveyard at the ass crack of dawn, looking for one particular headstone, level boring. At least Koutarou didn’t choose a public cemetery, this time. Trying to explain to grieving members of the public that seances are neither illegal, or dangerous is a mistake Tetsurou has sworn to make only once. A glance at his phone tells him they’ve only been here for ten minutes, at most, and that includes the circus that was getting out of Koutarou’s rust bucket of a car, but he already wants to go home. Not that that’s a surprise, necessarily, given that he’d wanted to go back to bed moments after he’d clipped himself into Koutarou’s rust bucket of a car. But Akaashi had levelled him with one of his looks, and any argument he might have had had shrivelled to dust on his tongue.

So now here he is, freezing his ass off as he watches Koutarou prance about ahead of him, his hair virtually glowing in the moonlight as he flits between the headstones. Tetsurou watches him, hands shoved as far as he can physically get them in his jacket pockets in a futile attempt of fighting off the chill. The dead have no need, and therefore no care, for warm clothing though, and he feels the hair on his arms rise as a breeze winds its way between his legs and kicks up dust and leaves off the floor. Akaashi appears beside him, and if Tetsurou didn’t know any better he would strongly suspect magic. But he does know better, that it’s just one of Akaashi’s many talents, and that it scares the shit out of him, like always. He makes a startled sound, sees the pleased smile Akaashi tries to hind behind the scarf he’s tucked his chin into, and Tetsurou shakes his head. The light of his phone makes the circles under Akaashi’s eyes even more prominent, and Tetsurou tries to ignore the stab of guilt. “You think he’d notice if we just… left?” He asks, rolling his head to look at Akaashi properly. “Eventually.” Akaashi says mildly. He bites back a yawn, muffled slightly by the scarf, but his eyes remain amused. “He’d only pester us about it even more.” “Point.” Tetsurou concedes with a shrug. He curls his fingers in the lining of his jacket. “Okay. The sooner we get this started, the sooner we can go home.” Akaashi hums, pats him on the shoulder, and then wanders off. There’s a fork in the path ahead of them, so he branches left as he fishes his phone from his pocket and uses the dim light to read the names. Tetsurou makes a show of bending to look at a few of the graves, although in the dark the names are nothing more than grey blurs. “Oi!” He calls, ignoring the way his knees crack as he stands back up, and grinning at the way Koutarou’s head swivels to look at him. “Remember who we’re looking for, yeah?” “I know.” Koutarou’s voice is nearing on a whine as he stomps off again, pointedly shrugging further into his jacket when Tetsurou laughs at him. The quiet that settles around them would have been eerie as a kid. As it is, Tetsurou’s spent his fair share of time amongst ghosts, and their attempts at unsettling him don’t work. By the way Koutarou keeps glancing over his shoulder, the same cannot be said for him, however. Tetsurou is about to tease him about it, has his mouth open and everything, when Akaashi calls them over. It comes as no real shock that Akaashi is the one to find what they’re looking for, more because he’s actually looking for it, rather than the fact he spends more time hanging out in graveyards than any self-respecting person probably should, present predicament notwithstanding. “This is the one, right?” He asks when Tetsurou is close enough to barely make out the engraving. He runs his fingers over the stone, and nods. “This is him.” “Huh.” Koutarou says, having finally made his way over to them. He hooks his chin over Tetsurou’s shoulder, hair scratching against Tetsurou’s cheek as he shifts his weight. “I don’t think I ever met him.” Tetsurou gives Akaashi a flat look, winking when his lips twitch ever so slightly upwards. “Your family is big enough to populate a small country.” He jostles his shoulders until he’s a little more comfortable. “Not exactly surprising, is it?” Doing the best he can with the angle he’s got, Koutarou elbows him in the back. There’s enough force that it sends them both stumbling forwards, Koutarou’s arms instantly latching around Tetsurou’s waist in an effort to keep them both standing. They share a beat of silence before they both start cackling at each other. Akaashi ducks the lower half of his face inside his scarf again, but Tetsurou sees the grin before he can fully hide it. “Maybe we should go inside?” “An excellent idea.” Tetsurou says, shrugging Koutarou off and jerking his head towards the urn nestled underneath the engraved name. “The honour’s all yours.” “Thanks.” Koutarou says dryly, hands suddenly very gentle as he delicately picks the urn up and tucks it against his chest. “Now, c’mon! Ghost hunting!” “That’s not-” Tetsurou begins, knowing it’s pointless to argue but unable to help himself from trying. Koutarou shows know sign of acknowledging him, humming under his breath as he wanders off, and Tetsurou sighs. Akaashi passes him, offering him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he goes. “Come on.” He says, glancing over his shoulder. “It’ll be over soon.” _____ The Bokuto residence is a large, sprawling plot of land deep in the heart of Tokyo, seemingly at odds with the modern city that surrounds it. Not that that bothers Tetsurou; this place has been home to him for almost as long as he can remember, and there’s an easy familiarity in the way he walks back to the house. The gardens are invariably warmer the closer they get to the main building, the smell of the well-kept flowerbeds helping him relax. They find the back door already open when they reach it, which would worry Tetsurou a lot more if he weren’t aware of the number of wards surrounding the entire building. Being this far away from the bedrooms means they don’t have to worry about being quiet, but they still tread carefully anyway, deftly avoiding any creaky floorboards. Koutarou leads the charge, his movements so light that it almost looks like he’s dancing down the hall. The door he stops in front of is closed, and Tetsurou sees his fingers pause just above the doorknob for the briefest of moments, before his shoulders slump and he steps inside. Tetsurou shuts the back door behind him, sliding the deadbolt into place and kicks his shoes off. He takes a moment to straighten them neatly against the wall, tutting at the way Koutarou’s have been left wherever they landed when he took them off. He glances up to find Akaashi watching him from down the hall, and shrugs. The doorjamb, when he reaches it, is covered in runes; ‘protection’ and ‘containment’ are carved the deepest. The look Koutarou is giving him is sheepish, and Tetsurou grins. “Let’s hope they’re friendly this time, yeah?” He asks, just to watch Koutarou squirm a little. The table Koutarou is sitting at somewhat ruins the effect, but Tetsurou will take what he can get at this point. “How was I meant to know?” Koutarou says, crossing his arms across his chest. “I didn’t ask them to try and possess me.” “They did a little more than ‘try’, Bokuto.” Akaashi points out, voice wry. He fiddles with the cuff of his sleeve so he doesn’t have to meet Koutarou’s eye. “Musta known about all that empty space between your ears.” Tetsurou teases, poking Koutarou in the temple as he moves across the room and settles himself on the floor. He grumbles when Koutarou swats at him in retaliation, reaching out to gently place a hand on the urn in the centre of the table. The ring on his middle finger clinks against the ceramic, and he sees Koutarou pull a face. “This time’ll be different.” Koutarou says confidently, nodding at Tetsurou’s hand. “If you say so.” Tetsurou mutters, shifting his weight and then settling back down. “Now shush, I need to concentrate.” Koutarou pretends to scowl at him, fingers tapping against the table for a moment, before he mimes locking his mouth shut and throwing away the key. Akaashi, now divested of his scarf, instead hides his smile behind his hand and winks so quickly at Tetsurou, he’s half sure he imagined it. There is no ceremony to what Tetsurou does. Sometimes, when other people are watching him, he wishes there were something… more to this. But as it is, all he actually has to do is leave one hand on the urn, the other falling to rest in his lap. He takes several deep breaths, and then closes his eyes. ____ Tetsurou is in darkness. Fully and totally emerged in it with no obvious way out. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were the nice kind that accompany pleasant dreams, but it’s not. It’s oppressive in its complete blackness, anchoring him here in a way that begins to feel more permanent the longer he’s here. He’s had it drilled into his head for as long as he can remember that this is a place to be respected and feared in equal measure, and to refer to it by its name at all times. Personally, Tetsurou thinks this place sucks, and actively avoids coming here as much as he can. Which usually means he can get away with calling it The Void instead of The Astral Plane. Usually. It’s always a gamble, coming here. He's never met Bokuto Kaito, which isn’t a huge problem by any means, but it will make finding him a little more difficult. Trekking through a plane of existence that by all accounts isn’t even technically real, can be tough even when you do know where you’re going. He’s only been here for two minutes, if that, and he can already feel exhaustion creeping up on him, ready to trap him the moment he lets his guard down. “Here goes.” He mutters, slowing his breathing until he’s barely inhaling at all. He doesn’t really need to breathe at all here, but the last time he’d tried not to, he’d sent himself into a panic attack. It’s better if he keeps up pretences. He feels his fingers brush against the urn in the living world, and waits for what seems like an eternity for the responding tug in this one. It’s a tiny part of conscious that feels it, that knows exactly where he needs to go, and that’s great. It just doesn’t help him actually get there. So, he starts walking. At least, he thinks he does. It’s hard to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not here, and it always leaves his head spinning. He prefers not to think about it. Much like everything else here, time passes strangely. What feels like seconds can be an hour, and vice versa. Tetsurou has long since given up on pointing out how nonsensical this place is. Mostly because you can only shout into an empty void for so long before it starts eating at you. That isn’t to say he stays quiet, though. The one habit he’s never quite been able to break, despite the reprimands and the constant scolding, is talking to himself. Those who come here, at least, the people like him, have an anchor – something to remind them of what is real, and what isn’t. It’s not Tetsurou’s fault if his just so happens to be his own voice. “Uh… Bokuto-san? You here?” Tetsurou calls out into the darkness. His voice is hollow, almost reedy, and it sends a chill up his spine. Move faster. “My name is Kuroo Tetsurou, I’m a friend of the family. I know you don’t know me, but I was wondering if I could maybe talk to you?” Tetsurou frowns at himself. Smooth. He’s never really been good at this part; never quite managed to get over the whole ‘talking to the dead’ thing. “You’re buried at the main house, which means you’re important to Matsuko. She’s basically my grandma, if that helps convince you.” He breaks off with a nervous cough. “Anyway, I promised Koutarou a séance, so you would really be helping me out.” “Talking to yourself again?” A voice murmurs into his ear, and Tetsurou absolutely does not scream. He doesn’t. “Jesus Christ.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and clutches at his chest as he waits for the pounding in his ears to slow down. He doesn’t have a heart here, but that doesn’t actually seem to matter, given the adrenaline hammering through his veins. “Not the name I usually go by.” The voice says again, and although Tetsurou can’t see it, he can hear a smile. “Kenma.” He huffs, cracking an eye open so he can squint at the man in question. Kozume Kenma stands to his right, hands hooked into the back pockets of his jeans as he rocks on his heels. Recently bleached hair, and Tetsurou knows that’s true because he can smell it, swings into his face. He reaches up to tuck what he can behind his ear. “Yo.” He says, glancing over at Tetsurou. His eyebrows are nearing his hairline and he’s still smiling. “‘Yo’?” Tetsurou repeats incredulously. “What the fuck are you doing here?” “Nightly walk.” Kenma says, taking a few slow steps forward to demonstrate. He tilts his head curiously. “You?” “Why do you think?” Tetsurou says, rubbing at his chest as he follows Kenma through the darkness. “Koutarou wanted to go ‘ghost hunting’.” Kenma makes a small noise, pushing at his hair again when it flops back down into his eyes. He’s solid here in a way Tetsurou has never been; almost as if he belongs in this place, instead of just being a visitor. Tetsurou glances down at his own hands, at the way they seem to flicker between realities, and then back up at Kenma. “You don’t want to?” Kenma guesses, spinning on his heel so he can still gage Tetsurou’s reaction even as they continue to walk. “Oh you know me.” Tetsurou says with a tired smile. “Can’t get enough.” Kenma is quiet for a little while. He murmurs to himself a couple of times, but Tetsurou knows that asking is pointless, so he doesn’t bother. He’ll get his answers eventually. The silence that settles around them is almost uncomfortable in how absolute it is, so Tetsurou focuses on putting one flickering foot in front of the other. “I have an idea.” Kenma says eventually, when the quiet is beginning to scratch at Tetsurou’s senses. Tetsurou sees the glint in his eye, the promise of trouble hidden behind the careful indifference, and grins. “We fuck with Koutarou?” The nod Kenma gives him is the best answer he could ever hope to get. _______ “Good evening, gentleman.” Tetsurou says, carefully biting down the smile threatening to ruin this whole thing before it even gets a chance to take off. He watches Akaashi carefully, takes in the way his eyes lift from the book he has open in his lap and shoot straight to his face. He tries to keep his face as neutral as he can, tries to be convincing in his neutrality. It’s not Koutarou he has to worry about ruining things, his excitement will hold the illusion all on its own without Tetsurou’s help. But Akaashi’s role in this whole idea had been long suffering, at best. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long. Your friend had some trouble finding me.” “Not long at all!” Koutarou says, leaning forwards across the corner of the table so he’s inches away from Tetsurou, and it takes all of Tetsurou’s control not to involuntarily flinch back. His focus is mostly here, in the living realm, but he is still vaguely aware of Kenma’s presence. Being torn between two planes of existence is… strange. Not unpleasant, exactly. But it’s weird enough to make him feel mildly queasy. “Relax.” Kenma says, voice barely more than a whisper, even though there’s no danger of them hearing him. He slides his hand over Tetsurou’s shoulder, squeezes gently, before reaching up to rest his fingers against the pulse point in Tetsurou’s neck. “Relax.” It’s weird how effective that one word is, how it settles into his bones and makes him feel more at ease. He knows the charade won’t last very long, that either he’ll give himself away, or they’ll catch him out, but it doesn’t seem to matter much. “And you?” Tetsurou asks, switching his attention back to Akaashi. “Did I leave you waiting too long?” “No,” Akaashi says slowly, eyes flitting between Koutarou’s excited grin and Tetsurou’s face. “I’m fine.” “I’m glad.” He knows he’s eventually going to have to speak in actual sentences, but the longer he can put it off, the better. “So, what is it you wish to know?” “How did you die?” Koutarou asks immediately, looking vaguely like the passion behind it surprised even him. Tetsurou frowns deliberately. “We’ve only just met, and that’s what you want to know?” Koutarou looks appropriately chastised, and falls silent for a few seconds. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m Koutarou, what’s your name?” “You picked my urn up,” Tetsurou says, tinkling his ring against the urn in question when he wiggles his fingers, “and you don’t even know my name?” “I was just trying to be friendly.” Koutarou grumbles, and Tetsurou has to duck his chin to try and fight the smile. “Um, what did you do for a living, when you were… alive.” He finishes weakly, wincing at his own choice of words. “I was a businessman, down in Osaka.” Tetsurou says, knowing the lie is likely going to be caught by Akaashi at the very least. He sees the moment Akaashi realises what’s going on, and turns his head in the hope Koutarou won’t see him wink. To his relief, Akaashi nods, a small, minute thing that would have been unperceivable had he not been staring at him so intently. Koutarou nods, before he freezes. The beginning of a frown creases his brow. “We don’t have family in Osaka.” “Ah,” Tetsurou says. He hears Kenma snigger in his ear, and tries to swat at him, but with his concentration so fragmented, he isn’t sure it works. “I was kicked outta the family.” “Then why are you buried in the family plot?” Koutarou asks. “And why do you have a Tokyo accent, Kaito-san?” “In my defence,” Tetsurou says, dropping the act, and grinning at Koutarou, “I was trying to find him.” “But?” There’s no trace of anger or annoyance in Koutarou’s voice, and Tetsurou isn’t entirely sure why that surprises him as much as it does. “You get bored on the way?” “I met Kenma.” Tetsurou uses the hand Kenma already has on his neck to pull him into the room. Or rather, he pulls a shadowy imitation of Kenma into the room, almost as if they’re seeing him through a murky window. “Hi.” Kenma says, the sound echoing in Tetsurou’s ears from both versions of his friend.  He disappears mere seconds later, the force of it snapping Tetsurou fully back into his own body, and for once the experience doesn't leave him with a headache, at the very least. “That explains some things.” Akaashi closes the book and places it on the table. There’s something about the way he says it that makes Tetsurou tilt his head. “You knew straight away, didn’t you?” “You did a good job of pretending.” Akaashi says, scratching idly at his chin. “But your voice was different.” “You are… eerily perceptive, you know that?” Akaashi merely smiles in response and pushes himself onto his knees in an effort to stand up. “If we’re finished, I’m hungry.” Koutarou announces, stretching his arms above his head and sighing in satisfaction when numerous bones crack. “You sure you don’t want me to actually find him?” Tetsurou asks, watching Koutarou’s flailing limbs warily. “I can, if you want me to.” “Nah, it’s okay. I kinda want food, anyway.” He gets to his feet, pulling at his jeans until they fall back into place. “And I should start heading home.” Akaashi interjects, stamping his feet on the ground a few times in an effort to get his blood flowing again. “I’ll drop you off, I know you’ve got the early shift.” Koutarou says as he turns to Tetsurou and offers him a hand. His arm goes taut as he takes the weight, and when they’re standing side by side, he slings that arm over Tetsurou’s shoulders. “Food?” “Sure.”

#kuroo tetsurou #kōtarō bokuto #bokuaka #kurotsuki #haikyuu fic #vic writes #otp: once in a blue moon #apotelesma