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mysticstrawberryphantom · 2 years

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(NWH SPOILERS) Could I get a gn x reader with Doc Ock but with an oblivious s/o that doesn't watch the news so they don't know he wrecked the bridge? Thank you! Your writing is lovely btw!!

A/N: Hi anon! I hope you like the fic! I made it fluffy, hopefully not too cheesy! Thank you for your support and kind words ❤❤

Warnings: none. Fluff.

Part.2

Who knew your career as a civil engineer could take such a dangerous turn.

It was currently 9pm and you were running for your life from a human sized lizard all because you were head of the committee that oversaw the sewer system. The day you chose to work overtime was the day that this lizard decided to barge in and demand city plans with an array of other orders that you couldn’t even fathom being within your reach. Apparently this unclothed lizard knew your job better than you did and declared you were lying.

So, now you were running and in the most cliche way possible. Your feet zipped past the fallen wet trash through dark alleyways while calling for help, your voice being drowned out by the echo of lizard claws banging on the cement.

-”What part of I don’t have the plans don’t you understand?!” You howled as you felt the creature closing in.

-”What part of I know you’re lying can’t you comprehend?” He mocked back while leaping right in front of you causing you to yelp.

Right as a claw was raised to hurt you, a mechanical one slammed the creature against a brick wall while whisking you up. You heard incomprehensible screams from the lizard being held against the wet wall as your body reached the top of a building. Assuming the robot arm was owned by a friend rather than a foe, you relaxed a little into the firm clasp. Once let down carefully, arm still wrapped around you, a man wearing sunglasses quickly asked if you were alright.

-”Yes, thanks to you.” Your voiced responded truthfully.

Nodding, he turned his attention to the struggling creature with furrowed eyebrows. One of his four mechanical arms opened the lid that led to the sewer while another threw the lizard in. Then harmoniously three tentacles placed several heavy objects on top of the newly placed sewer lid and returned to its owner. You were so mesmerized by the whole ordeal, that a few seconds after you had taken flight in his metal grasp you realized you were leaving the vicinity where the creature could emerge from. After a few minutes of building hopping and silence, your savior placed you gently on the pavement of another dark alleyway.

-”Thank you so much for saving me back there, uhm-” You paused, trying to see if you remembered his name. If he was a hero, you were sure to have heard his name some time or another. The only problem was- you didn’t listen to the news much or frequent social media, so it was common that you were behind the times. -”Sorry, I don’t remember your hero's name. I, uh, don’t watch the news much.” You awkwardly chuckled apologetically.

The man with the four metallic tendrils was taken aback, eyebrows digging into his eyes that were hidden behind his sunglasses. -”I don’t particularly find the name the media gave me agreeable.” He slowly began. -”My name is Dr Otto Octavius, pleased to meet you.”

-”Oh!” You couldn’t help but exclaim at his oddly rhyming name. -”My name is Y/N L/N. H-How long have you been in the hero business? Sorry, it’s that your name didn’t ring any bells.”

The Dr’s body shifted around uncomfortably and his tentacles seemed to retract, as if ashamed. -”Not for long.” Was all he voiced. -”I should take my leave, Y/N L/N. I trust you can get yourself home safely from here?”

-”Uh, yeah! Yeah… I think so. You’re sort of soaked, Dr Octavius, do you live close around here? If not, you can warm up at my place. It’s the least I can do.” It seemed like the man had been out all night long and even his long leather coat seemed to be suffering from a cold.

Turning his head to the sides as if he was speaking to his arms, the new hero reluctantly accepted your invitation. -”As a matter of fact, I live very far away. .. . . If it isn’t much trouble, I’ll warm up and leave immediately.”

Nodding excitedly you gave him directions to your home and he carefully took you in one of his metal arms to transport both of you there.

Once home you were able to see the Doctor more clearly and saw that his gentle voice matched a gentle face. Although he was taller and more robust than you, his physicality seemed inviting. His expression did seem to carry a far off melancholy to it though, like he had many things on his mind that he needed to fix.

-”Here you go, Doctor Octavius.” You smiled while kindly handing him a cup of tea. -”I hope you’re ok with Jasmine, I find it to be more relaxing than chamomile.”

-”Ah, yes, and it has various health benefits. Thank you.” His voice softly agreed with his own small smile.

-”If you don’t mind me asking, what made you want to become a hero?”

The tall man blinked a couple of times before looking at you with an awkward smile. -”For mankind, I suppose. Gifts are for the good of the people.”

You smiled back, infected by his. There was something in his smile that filled you with warmth inside.

-”Civil engineering?” He pointed at your degree. -”What convinced you to pursue that career?”

-”My father was a civil engineer and he was always taking me to his work. I have liked it since I was young, and in a way, I also pursued it for the people. My father made government housing for the poor in several communities in this country and others.”

-”Oh? Do you speak other languages?”

-”Unos cuantos (Just a few).” You answered in Spanish, a little flushed.

-”Ah! Somos bilingües? Que bueno. (Ah! We’re bilingual? How swell.)”

And with that your savior seemed to warm up to your hospitality and person. The two of you chatted deep into the night without noting the time. Once relaxed, Otto was a very charming man with lots of quips and great advice. The two of you spoke on various subjects that ranged from science, to food, languages, and lastly literature. That was until he noticed your head was nodding off while he recited his favorite poem.

-”I apologize, I have overstayed. It must be incredibly late, you should go to bed.”

Swatting your hand around you looked at the clock that marked 2am. -”Please, please. Don’t worry, I’m not going to work tomorrow. After all, that lizard wrecked my office. Are you okay going home so late? Isn’t it far away? I’m sorry for keeping you! You can stay the night here.”

-”No, No. I shouldn’t, it isn’t proper.” Otto voiced while standing up from the couch quickly, causing one of his arms to bump the coffee table where your phone rested. Before any of his limbs, artificial or not, could reach it, you grabbed it.

-”I won’t try to make you uncomfortable, so let me get your coat.” You offered a disappointed smile as you ran into your laundry room while looking down at your phone, noticing an array of messages flooding in. Worried friends had sent news articles of the new threats in your area, some skipped the articles and had sent pictures of the villains, telling you to watch out for them. At first you casually glossed over the messages until you saw the picture of the creature that had chased you a few hours ago.

And then you saw the picture of the man that was sitting in your living room.

Your brain not comprehending what was going on, not fathoming the reality, it blocked any thoughts from being processed.

A villain?

No way the man reciting Elizabeth Barett Browning while he looked up at the ceiling because he couldn’t remember the words meanwhile chuckling at his bad memory could ever do someone harm.

The way his small lips curled when he thought your statement was clever or how he pensively elaborated his sentences as to convey his feelings genuinely on a delicate subject.. … .. Those behaviors denoted one of good character with zero ill intent.

And then one last link was sent. Spiderman was calling all over-verse beings to meet him that night for some type of show off.

Your brain put the pieces together, at least the big ones, to understand two truths. Doctor Octavius was not from your world and must’ve been a villain up until now- or perhaps was still .. .. no. No way. But how could you know?

So you decided to speak with him directly, get his side of the story. As you emerged from the laundry room coatless, Otto cocked his head to the side, a small frown accompanying his confusion.

-"Did we lose my coat in a such small room?" He joked.

-"No, I just thought I'd show you this first."

And with that, his firm frame was next to yours, sharing his heat as he patiently watched the short video.

-"Ah, I see. I've been found out." While he backed away from you one of his tentacles reached for his coat and brought it back. -"More reason to leave promptly." He smiled guiltitly while nodding in your direction.

-"No." You said firmly, while taking a hold of his arm. -"It is more reason for you to stay. You don't have a place at all, this isn't your world."

-"You shouldn't house a villain, my dear." His newfound sternness and pet name sent small shivers down your spine, but not out of fear.

-"Last I checked, in this world you aren't one. You just started your new career as a hero tonight." You returned his firm words with a hefty, serious gaze.

-"Do not pity me, Y/N. Actions have consequences. Besides, having me here will attract bad attention to you."

Smiling kindly, you shook your head. -"You should take refuge here while you can." You patted the arm you held. -"Rest so you do what you need to do tomorrow night."

Wanting to reject your offer he looked away, but you could tell he was beyond tired, probably hadn't slept in all this time being in this new universe. Dropping his shoulders, he sighed.

-"You can't say I didn't warn you. You can't blame me if your apartment ends up like your office."

Patting his arm once again, you motioned for him to move away from the door and instructed him as to where all the guest towels and such were. You then left to bring him sheets for the couch and a pillow. Once back you saw him looking out the window dejected and isolated, lost in his thoughts.

-"Dr." You softly voiced, gently bringing him back to reality. -"Here are some sheets. If you need anything don't be afraid to look at the other couch and say something."

With an eyebrow raised he asked why you weren't sleeping in your bed.

-"I don't want you to slip out without me noticing."

Chuckling, he shook his head. -"I can do that at any point in time, dearest." His claws opening and closing as if telling you that you shouldn't underestimate them.

Flushing, you began to make your own bed. You weren't sure why he had suddenly started with the pet names, but you enjoyed how they made you giddy inside.

-"All good?" You called out before turning off all the lights.

-"Yes, thank you." Otto politely answered. His body laid face up, tentacles dangling from his sides, and arms crossed on top of his stomach.

-"Alright then, good night Doctor Octavius."

-"Please, call me Otto."

-"Oh, alright, Otto. Sleep well."

-".. … …"

-"... …. .."

For a moment the only noise in your home was the whirring of your refrigerator and the footsteps of your night owl neighbors.

-"Y/N, forgive me for saying this, but do you not believe in villains or are of a more naive and trusting nature?"

-"Ouch ahaha."

-" Apologies, I just-

-" No, it's alright, O-otto." You right hand stretched and patted one of his metallic arms. -" You could say I'm just being stubborn on my first impression, but someone that saves strangers and then chats with them for hours can't be a villain- at least without good reason."

Your hand was lifted up towards your guest's face where it was grasped by his hand. -" And if they had a good reason?" His warm breath tickled the back of your hand.

-"W-well," You began, a little flustered by his touch. -"Then all we have to do is work through that reason and everything's fixed." Your fingers twitched uncomfortably in his hand, due to embarrassment.

-"Oh! Sorry." Otto whispered when he saw your hand shifting around. -" I just grabbed it without your permission."

-" I- yeah, but it's okay. You've probably had a hard day."

-"Well, it's not an excuse for my behavior, but I thank you for letting me hold your hand.. … y/n." His voice began to trail off.

-" What happened?" You softly whispered, half hoping he didn't hear, since you both were tired and needed sleep.

-"Hmm? Well, to make a long story short." He began while repositioning your hand in his before continuing.-" You see, I pursued sustainable energy..."

Otto's voiced rang through your home, dancing off the walls and gently into your ears. Each sentence filling your insides with hefty warmth. As he spoke, you turned to face him, your other arm underneath your pillow. It was a whole new experience seeing him without glasses. He had such benign and gentle eyes.

As he spoke, sentences like -"I'm sorry to hear that." -"No, no way." -"Oh my goodness, how could that happen?" left you mouth breathlessly.

By the end you were squeezing his hand, emotions at an all time high. You could feel him breathe heavily, but appreciatively for your listening ear. He patted your hand while it squeezed, a gesture of gratitude.

-"Thank you for listening, my dear. Sorry it took so long, we were supposed to be asleep." He apologetically chuckled at the end.

-" That's alright, we can sleep in." You joked warmly. -" Thank you for sharing with me and trusting me."

-"Oh!" He exclaimed as if you were too precious for words. -" Y/N." He kissed the back of your hand. -"You are extremely kind. I'm lucky I ran into you in this world. You are quite an amazing person. When I return to my universe, I hope to find you again." His lips pecked your hand again right before he gently released it.

There was something about his gestures that made you feel he was doing such things in light of expressing gratitude and trust. Rather than trying to set the mood for something romantic, it felt like the Doctor was jus appreciative of being with you at the moment. Of being heard and taken care of during a time that was full of turmoil.

And then morning came. Rather, noon came around and both of you woke up. The day was spent indoors doing menial tasks while sharing deep or silly conversations. You ate, read, sighed, cleaned, laughed, sort of danced, and played cards together. An odd day with a nervous environment due to both of you thinking of what might happen that night. But you two tried to hide it and just enjoy each other's company.

-"I can't believe you got another full house." You complained when Otto had won once again throwing your head forward against the table. He heartily laughed while he patted your head gently.

-"We're all good at different things, Y/N. Just know you should never gamble." He laughed again. Rolling your eyes with a grin, you lifted your head while placing his hand back in the table and flipping it over.

-"I think you just hide cards up your sleeves." Your eyes narrowed as you playfully inspected his wrist.

-"I'm sorry to say that if I am searched, you will only find your lack of ability to win against me at poker."

-"Bah!" You exclaimed as you flipped his hand over again, his wrist watch now faced upward. The both of you exhaled a sad breath when seeing the time. The doctor uncomfortably retreated his hand and stood up. Without saying anything, you fetched his coat and helped him put it on, though he didn't need the help. You just wanted to be close to him for a little longer.

Once the coat was on, you patted the lapels that rested on his chest slowly and turned to face him. He placed his hands over yours and smiled ardently.

-"It was a delight to spend the day with you, my dear. Thank you, once again, for your hospitality and care."

Returning the same smile you expressed, -"It was my pleasure to have you here and be rescued by you. Continue doing good, Otto. That's another talent you have."

His eyes glistened at the end of your sentence, and his expression softened. Lowering your hands from his chest, he guided them towards his back so you two could embrace. Your head rested right underneath his chin. After a few seconds, you felt his body begin to back away from yours. Eagerly, your eyes locked on his, your arms still not letting go of his body. Otto could tell you didn't want to say goodbye just yet, as did he, but he had been without these feelings for so long it was easier for him to ignore them.

So he lowered his face close to yours, debating if he should place his lips to say goodbye on your cheek or your lips. He wasn't going to see you again, so in a way, what was the harm in not being pious for once. Flushed, you realized his intentions and leaned in to place your cheek on his lips while you kissed his cheek softly. You knew that if your lips touched, he might feel guilty for being too forward, even though both of you wanted that kiss.

-"Good luck, Doctor Octavius. I hope you do find me in your universe. I'll miss you"

-"Good luck to you too, Y/N. I hope so too. And perhaps you'll find a better version of me here with less mistakes... .. Regardless, I'll always treasure our time."

Tags: @tricypherog @galactic-rhi @mystiicrose

#otto octavius #doc ock x reader #doctor octopus #otto octavius x reader #spiderman nwh #norman osborn x you #spiderman x reader #doc ock

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teacup-crow · 3 years

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Tango

@zombiesmake 26/06/21, Round 2. Thanks @puptart and @crownleys. Based loosely on prompt 3, two men doing the tango.

Set after S1M10. Sara and Janine are enjoying off-hours after another stressful mission. Some of the characterisation here is absolutely inspired by @bos10blonde's fic To Normal so shout out to you too (and everyone go read her wonderful writing next)

Sara swilled the liquor in the bottom of her glass, and looked out at the crowd of revellers with some second-hand amusement. There’d been an attempt at trad music earlier in the evening that had almost made her want to sew her ears closed - she’d at the very least vowed to never let another Englishman attempt Fields of Athenry in her hearing. But the otherwise enjoyable night was growing quieter at last, the group thinning, the younger residents and those on early duty disappearing back to barracks. She found herself craving a cigarette, having not touched them in years. An excuse for a moment in the chill of the night air, the steam of her breath, inhale, exhale, repeat.

Janine was sitting across from her, jotting minutiae in her journal, and Sara was struck for a moment by just how young the woman actually was, the soft candlelight catching on her drawn complexion. She had barely hit her mid-thirties and yet all this responsibility weighed on her shoulders, dragging her down, wrinkling the skin prematurely around her eyes. There was such a vulnerability resting behind the blustering authority she desperately clung to, but few people other than Sara ever seemed to notice it.

“You’re watching me,” Janine said, then, without turning her head.

“Simply enjoying the view,” Sara replied smoothly, momentarily relishing the tinge of colour that rose to the other woman’s cheeks. Then, she was shot with a stupid sort of guilt, as if this feeling was some kind of betrayal, and downed the rest of her drink to drown it. “I’ll have another of that poteen, Kier.”

The boy behind the makeshift bar obliged. Janine’s brow creased in disapproval, but for once she decided not to voice her opinion. Sara wondered, not for the first time, how that woman was ever recruited into covert ops with a face that read so readily - or maybe it was just that Sara had spent a lot of time picking up on those expressions in the last nine months.

“I was a fool, wasn’t I. Giving that girl access to so much information. I can only apologise that you had to clean up after my mistake.”

“Lord knows, it happens to the best of us,” the Irishwoman laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Kier, we’ll have one for Janine, too.”

“I’m fine, really-”

“No, you’re not. You’re obsessing, and letting this tiny mistake play on your mind. You know, I meant what I said today. I’d trust you with the last bullet in my pistol. I trust you to run this place, and so should everyone else.”

“You also said I was spiky,” Janine grumbled half-heartedly.

“You are spiky!”

“Not with everyone!”

Sara conceded with a smile. “Not so much with the Major and I.”

“And I wasn’t ever like that with… never mind,” she sighed. “You know what, I will have that drink, please, Mr Entwhistle.”

Her curiosity piqued, Sara leant back in her chair, swinging a little. “Wasn’t ever like that with… whom?”

“I’d rather keep some parts of my past life private, if you don’t mind.” Janine said stiffly, once again betraying her lack of poker face. Sara couldn’t help but push.

“A lover of some sort? I didn’t think you were ever married.”

“No, nobody like that. Just someone I grew up with. When we were small, we always knew what the other was thinking. That didn’t last, of course. But it was… pleasant. To not have to explain myself. To be truly candid, without judgement.”

“I can understand the appeal of that,” Sara said, taking a sip from the mug placed in front of her, the acidic liquid burning its way down her throat. “Ugh. I never should have taught you people how to make vodka from potatoes.”

“It is rather ingenious, as much as it’s damaged the health and wellbeing of all our residents in the eyes of Dr Myers.”

“Actually, I feel that my wellbeing is much improved from having the option. My mission performance… perhaps less so.”

“Rest assured, I have no problems with your performance, Sara. I’d be the first to let you know.”

“That’s… oddly reassuring.”

“Oh. I’m glad.”

They sipped for a few moments in companionable silence.

“You know, I met my husband in a terrible bar like this. It was the eighties: you can imagine the neon. He was trying to dance the tango with some girl who was completely bored out of her mind, and he kept accidentally standing on her feet, almost pulled both of them over once or twice. He looked ridiculous. I think I liked him right from that moment, how he just didn’t care what anybody else thought, even when she stomped off to sit back down and he was dancing on his own. I had to go and rescue him, show him how it was really done. Then I… suppose didn’t ever stop.”

“I used to dance, too. My absurdly upper-class school insisted on us taking ballroom lessons.” Janine snorted derisively. “I was never particularly fond of the idea at first, but I grew to enjoy the precision. The need to always be in the right place at the right time on the right beat. My… that person and I. We used to partner up. We were rather good."

“Well, in absence of a better partner, want to give it another try?” Sara took Janine’s hand, then, both of them a tad wobbly from drink and the pressure of the day and the masks they relied on slipping further than either had meant them to. And maybe that was why Janine agreed, and stepped out under the coil of solar lights, and wrapped her arm around Sara’s waist, and danced until she forgot everyone and everything else.

#zombies run #zrs1 #zr #zombies make #this could be romantic or it could be platonic it depends what way you squint

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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[Aoi Asahina, Sonia Nevermind, Chiaki Nanami, Rantarou Amami, Ibuki Mioda] x reader imagine: comforting an insecure guitarist s/o after their band plays live

Request: Oh my god, are DR blogs coming back again?? This is the third new one I've found this month!! Really happy about that. Great writing so far by the way! Could you maybe do Asahina, Sonia, Chiaki, Rantaro, and Ibuki (separate) comforting an insecure, guitarist S/O after they just performed a live show with their band? And like, the S/O is really worried that they sucked even though they did well? Oddly specific, I know. Would appreciate it though! Cheers!

OMG I NERDED OUT AND HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH CHIAKI’S, POINTS TO THE FANS WHO GET THE REFERENCE, though it’s an easy one Nishishi~

Thank you for this imagine request and being so specific about what you want while still giving me a lot of creative freedom! I immediately had some simple but cute ideas about this! - Mod Kokichi

Gender Neutral reader, a few brief lewd humorous lines, but SFW otherwise.

Aoi Asahina

- You were nervous, pre-show jitters shuddering through your body, but you couldn’t back out now.

- Not when your super hot, super excited, super supportive girlfriend had hyped you up just before the show.

- “Stage fright?! How’d you even get into a band in the first place with that mentality?!” Hina teased you backstage, mere moments before going on out to preform. She saw you chuckle nervously, not taking her joke as well as she’d hoped.

- She took your hand firmly. “Look, you know that face you love, the one I make when I’m thinking about pastries?” She continued.

- “The one that makes you look like a chipmunk?” You answered flatly.

- “I don’t agree, but yes! That one! When you’re scared up there, imagine me doing that face! Or better yet, I’ll be front row, in the V.I.P. standing section anyway. Just look for me there!” With a peck on your cheek, she gave you a determined look before pushing you toward the stage and disappearing.

- “H-hina!” You stuttered, but it couldn’t be helped, it was time.

- To your surprise, the nervousness went away as your band was about half way through the first song.

1. The attention is mainly on the lead singer.

2. You were focusing on playing too much to fully take in the screaming crowd.

3. You were actually enjoying yourself.

- As the first song ended, however, the music fading out and the crowd going wild, you felt that little pinch of panic settle back in. There was no music to focus on and protect you, just a hundred faces to look out upon.

- Your eyes darted back and forth over the audience, searching. Your breathing came out a little heavier, until your eyes landed on a lean, curvy, athletic figure, with tanned skin and a smile sweet like honey...no, like doughnuts

- She put her hands up near her face like paws, closing her eyes in an open-mouth smile. You smirked, nodding and strumming your strings once again.

- At the end of the show, fans flooded to the hallway that connected the venue’s main hall to the dressing rooms backstage, reaching out to try and grab band members, hoping to take how an autograph or lock of hair as a souvenir, and you rushed through, sweating and ultimately disappointed with the overall performance you put on that night.

- Hina was already waiting in your temporary dressing room for the night, standing and throwing her arms around your neck before praising you endlessly.

- “S/O, that was amazing! That third song, I felt like the bass shook the place! It was intense, like the final lap in a freestyle race, you know?! We gotta bring Sakura next time. I think she’d really get into the pull of the steady rhythm!” Her little dramatic expressions, her brow knitted together passionately as she spoke...she reminded you every day why you fell in love with her.

- “You...you really liked it? I thought I was kinda just going down further and further in quality as the show went on. I felt like shit by the end…”

- “Are you kidding me! It was fantastic. I think the whole audience was immersed. I know I was! Hey...you better not have all these groupies flocking you looking for a piece tonight!” She teased, hugging your arm!

Sonia Nevermind

- Sonia was extremely excited to go to a public concert. Anything that brought her closer to commoners, to feeling like she belonged around ordinary people was just swell to her.

- Even better that it was in a country foreign to her, where she could be immersed in the cultural norms and behaviors.

- Even better that she was watching the one she loved play.

- She was afraid that you’d judge her when she first admitted her love for the occult, horror, and all things gothic and metal.

- You thought that was pretty hot.

- So there she stood, in the front row of your concert, in a poofy green dress with expensive jewelry and accessories decorating her frame. She stuck out like a sore thumb, but Sonia, blissfully unaware, felt like one of the normal people.

- She jumped when the crowd did, her fist in the air, entranced by each note that came from your instrument.

- Sweaty metal-heads and ravers bumped into her endlessly in the tightly packed crowd, and she couldn’t care less.

- You looked amazing up on stage, and she felt like she was a part of some fan fiction she read once.

- You know the trope, where the reader is in the crowd at a famous band’s concert reluctantly, and her favorite member locks eyes with her and either pulls her on stage with them or takes her backstage after the show and ravished her!

- And she felt her love for you and your musical talent swell within her heart.

- After the concert, she met you outside the back door of the venue, and you were shocked silent at her appearance.

- “S-Sonia are you okay??” The tights under her dress were ripped, her bracelet missing some jewels, the bow tie falling out of her blonde locks, which by the way looked like a rat’s nest. Topping the look off were the pit stains under her arms and in the valley of her cleavage.

- “I’m sorry. I knew this would be a shitty experience. I shouldn’t have brought you. The music was bad anyway, huh? I shouldn’t practiced more.” You looked down in shame, before she nearly tackled you, her arms around your neck and kissing you everywhere, up and down your face and neck and chest.

- “D-do not say these things! Tonight was the b-best night of my life!!!” she sputtered, too excited to enunciate. “You looked like a hero in this J-Drama I watched years ago! Like the protagonist Sawayama Keito!! And I??? I was your romantic love interest, the plain Jane in the crowd, Ito Aiyaka!”

- “You really enjoyed it that much?” You could smell the body odor and adrenaline pouring off of her, very un-princess-like, but you couldn’t care less, grinning like a fool.

- “I love you, Sonia, you crazy kid.”

- “Play for me again tonight, in the dorm room…” she spoke desperately.

Chiaki Nanami

- Chiaki did not want to be in that crowd that night.

- A short, skinny, lazy, introverted girl at a live concert full of rabid fans and no seats? Standing room only?

- She briefly mentioned this to you days before the show, not wanting to hurt your feelings. It was something mentioned in passing, in her normal flat and tired tone.

- “I hope I don’t get stepped on...maybe I can bring my Gameboy and play when things get too wild?” She mused, leaning back on you as you prepared to start practicing on the edge of the bed next to her.

- You loved Chiaki, and you knew how to take her hints by now.

- “Chi, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know crowds aren’t your thing.”

- “No, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled that lazy, half-lidded smile. She loved you too, and she wasn’t about to be the only one on campus not there to support you. She yawned and took your guitar from your hands before falling asleep on your lap.

- You thought the gesture was cute, but inside you were a bit irritated. You’d told her many times prior to that night that you needed all the practice you could get, and that you were afraid of bombing. So why would she purposely stop you in the middle of practicing?

- Oh well. You leaned back, memorizing chords and lyrics in your head until you, too, passed out

- The night of the concert, Chiaki stood in the front row, her backpack strapped to her front, oddly snug on her chest and obviously on backwards, but it was easier to access her Gameboy and fidget toys in case she needed to retreat from the overwhelming noise.

- She told herself they were just for emergencies. She was there for you, and frowned thinking about how you’d feel if you looked down off the stage and saw her not paying attention.

- People piled in, and soon your band came on stage. The lead singer introducing you all.

- Chiaki was already feeling like the ceiling was lowering, like the people around her were far too close, and looked down, hoping seeing just the dark venue floor and her shoes would calm her, one hand on her backpack for security.

- “Oh!” She gasped, her little bangs flying up and her eyes widening like saucers as the lead singer sang the first notes. Three notes, that’s all it took.

- “Aha~aha ah ah...ha~uh huh huh…” the lead singer breathily voiced into the microphone, and Chiaki smiled wider than she had in months.

- You met her eyes on stage knowingly, smirking at first, then suddenly anxious that you might slip up or disappoint her. You strummed two loud, vibrating notes, stern and piercing through the air.

- Again the same two notes, before you joined the singer by the microphone, inhaling before singing in harmony:

- “In you~ and I, there’s a new land~ yeah~he heah!”

- She relaxed, tilting her head back as the sound waves overtook her.

- “Angels in flight~”

- “My sanctuary. My sanctuary, yeah~”

- You didn’t tell her you’d be doing covers that night. Video game covers, nonetheless. Her head shot up, looking at her phone quickly. She looked at the date.

- February 14th.

- Man, she spaced out often…but this…

- She blushed furiously, and her eyes locked with yours. You grew nervous, playing even harder. She swooned and let herself get lost in the bass.

- You played iconic video game themes all night, and by the end, Chiaki was more overwhelmed and exhausted then she’d ever been, but in a good way.

- When you walked into your dressing room back stage with flowers you had hidden earlier, she accepted them with a flush of her cheeks.

- “You didn’t need to do all that...s/o...this was…”

- “Y-you didn’t like it? I was nervous for a month planning this gig. I know I’ve still got a ways to go with playing live but-“

- “I loved it.”

- “What?” You weren’t convinced.

- “I loved it. Every second. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift, I didn’t even realize.”

- “Gifts don’t mean anything to me, Chi. You’re all I need.” you pulled her into your chest for a tight embrace. “You’re My Sanctuary.”

Rantarou Amami

- Rantarou was so excited about seeing your debut concert, snatching the tickets as soon as you presented them to him.

- “Can I bring along my sisters, too, S/O? They’ve been wanting to hear you play ever since I first mentioned that you were in a band.

- “Of course, but...I don’t know why they’d wanna all waste a Saturday night on my shitty band. We don’t even play that well ye-“

- “Silence!” He picked you up by your waist and squeezed you until you couldn’t breath, much less put yourself down with a self deprecating jab. He kissed your cheek playfully. “You’re sexy and the way you play guitar is sexy. I listened you practice all night the other day!”

- “Y-you did? I didn’t even see you!”

- “Huh...” he scoffed, “ maybe because you were lost in your passion, becasue news flash, you’re good at it, stinker!” He pinched your cheek, always knowing how to make you flustered. “Yeah, I heard every single note, and even peaked in once or twice, seeing you stroke those strings so tenderly…” He forced you against the wall, his hot breath against your ear “ I wish you’d stroke me like that.” You face ran hot and you roughly shoved him away, him giggling like a fool.

- “Okay, okay you win, Amami, bring whoever you want!” You stomped off with a huff.

- The day of the concert, the entire front row looked like a field of spring grass, the large family of green-haired siblings shouting before you even began your first song. You shook your head at Rantarou and his many sisters, half-embarrassed, half-flattered. You felt your hands stumble across the strings, Rantarou giving you a thumbs up and a wink.

- After the show, you couldn’t run off the stage any faster. You ran into the staff room backstage where refreshments and spare equipment were usually set out, and were greeted by a row of Amami’s swarming you and praising you, talking much too quickly and all at once.

- Rantarou simply let his sisters flock you, asking you to teach them to play, to help them meet hot musicians you knew, to learn to read music. You felt your ego rise, flustered once again at the hand’s an an Amami.

Ibuki Mioda

- Ibuki shouted to the band backstage, tuning her guitar and hyping up the other members. She noticed you a little out of place, looking a quite queasy and apprehensive.

- “S/O! The hell are you doin’ over there! Hudddddddle up!” She pulled you by your shoulders.

- “I don’t know why I let you force me into joining the music club...I shouldn’t have mentioned my interest at all…” you grumbled.

- Months ago, Ibuki had heard you, her darling and adorable s/o mentioning that you played guitar in elementary school, and wanted to listen in on her band once practice one in awhile. Well, that was the end of that. She decided it was time to freshen up your skills and get you comfortable with the strings again. Now here you were, moments from your first live performance since you were 10 years old.

- “Whaaat! That’s like, a major no no, that low energy, ya dig?!” She held your hand, swinging it back and forth with a feral look on her face. “You’re bitchin’! And Ibuki is bitchin’! And tonight we’re gonna set the stage on fire!”

- The show went on as planned, you and Ibuki on guitar while she screamed into the front mic. Your drummer just barely cut through the vibrations of your combined sound waves, and you buckled down and reminded yourself that with Ibuki at your back, that stage was yours. That audience was yours.

- Plus...who was staring at you when Ibuki was up front, looking like that, acting like that. That passion, that intensity, it’s what drew you to her in the first place.

- The crowd roared viciously, opening up a mosh pit in front of your neon gothic goddess of a girlfriend, and you couldn’t have found her more attractive than you did right now, her arms swinging open, releasing the guitar and simply bellowing into the mic, commanding the hellish pit in front of her like one of the succubi from Gundham’s wild tall tales.

- You suddenly felt so unworthy of her in all her glory, simply providing the backup and harmonies.

- When the show ended, you and Ibuki equally carried each other back stage to the school’s stagehand room, leaning on each other’s sweaty bodies for support.

- “Sheesh, that was straight fire tonight, s/o, huh?! Immolation on the stage, in the fleeeesh!” She shredded an air guitar in front of her before collapsing on a folding chair. How did she still have any energy at all?! You scoffed incredulously. “ Ibuki was worried for a second there, but we pulled it off! I knew we’d be amazing!” Huh???

- “You were worried?” You quickly realized what she probably meant, “Oh...like nervous that I’d mess it up for us?” Her eyes widened, a shocked look on her face as her hands flew up to her hair.

-“What? No! Ibuki was worried about Ibuki~” She grimaced.

- “Why would you ever be nervous, you’re the best musician for miles around.” You drank from a water bottle before tossing it to her. She caught it in one hand, downing it.

- “Hey, Ibuki gets worried too~” She winked at you, a flirty glimmer in her eye as she held up a heart made from her connected hands. “But s/o is Ibuki’s rock! Partners in crime, yeah? No need to worry with you at my back tearing it up!”

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englandsgray · 3 years

Text

Sherlolly Self-Interviews 2020

Well hi 👋

Ignoring the internal image of Gilderoy Lockheart smiling smugly while flashbulbs pop and saying ‘In my autobiography, Magical Me...’ 🙈😆 I shall take the opportunity of this lovely event to introduce myself as a writer of Sherlolly fanfiction on AO3...

I am English and somewhere over 30. I watched the show as it aired, and lost my heart as quickly to Molly Hooper as to Sherlock Holmes. The kiss is British television history. Series 4 is my favourite. Moriarty on the beach is life. The Holmes brothers break my heart every time.

I am extremely lucky to have been provided some questions to answer here by @ohaine and @mybrainrots - huge, huge love and thanks to these two lovelies, and not just for this. I admire you both so much as writers, and your support means the world to me ❤️ Thanks too, to @sherlollyappreciationweek!

Where did you begin to write, and have you written for other fandoms? I wrote my first fanfic when I was eleven years old - a 100 page ramble about The Monkees. Oh yes. Then in 2018, I fell for the characters of the Disney Pixar film Cars and began writing and publishing. So far so random! Writing in this fandom sprang from binge-watching all four series of Sherlock during lockdown. I remembered reading Louise Brealey talking about being disappointed Molly didn’t get chance to ‘roundly kick Sherlock’s arse’ and agreeing with her wholeheartedly. That, over a few weeks, turned into my first fic - Who You Really Are.

You’re a recent (and welcome!) arrival to the Sherlolly ship, and I was wondering if writing in an established, less active than it used to be fandom has been a challenge? Thank you, firstly. My experience of this fandom has been incredibly positive - the sense of welcome has been wonderful. I will admit I was terrified posting the first fic - there are hundreds of times more stories posted daily in the Sherlock fandom as in the one I had some experience of. But I needn’t have worried, it’s been a blast. I will also admit, that it’s no small thing to be surrounded by such brilliant writing and the long-standing passion which goes with it. But I find that inspiring in itself, and I’m very glad to be here - how supportive the fandom are makes me feel like I always have been!

What’s your favourite place and way to write? My aesthetic is Lin-Manuel Miranda in his in-law’s laundry room 🤣 I wrote my first ten-thousand words on the notes app on my phone before my other half told me to stop being ridiculous! I switch between the laptop, my phone and longhand (I’m a sucker for a nice notepad and a Uni-Ball Eye) and, more often than not, not sat up properly at a table.

Since you’ve (done something I’ve never managed successfully and) written a novella length fic... how did you organise/keep track of all the details and where you wanted the story to go? Did you outline/plot in advance? First of all - I would love to see a novella length fic from you @mybrainrots! The final scene of Who You Really Are came to me very early on and I knew I wanted the fic to fit within TFP - a lot of it takes place in the timeframe of the final montage. At first, it was going to be much more about Sherlock’s relationship with the ideas of sentiment and love (the phrase ‘I’m not sentimental about you, I love you,’ haunted me for a while) and I spent some time researching the psychology and playing with scenes from throughout the series - one of my favourites I didn’t go on to use was inspired by the final scene of THoB. Using scenes from the canon gave an automatic structure, and I was always aiming for the final one I wrote early on - the two of them on the beach (everything is about the beach, with me!) As I went along and started, inevitably, to slow down, I mapped out the chapters with a short note of what I wanted to be in each, then would add notes or phrases as they came to me - often emailed from my phone! I had to force myself through a tricky section set in Baker Street at one point, but it came together in the end. I did plot The Pathologist’s Skeletons on paper first, as I found with a casefic which remains a WIP, that I can get confused and lose focus when it comes to details and how to reveal them in a way which stays paced and interesting. I’ll certainly do that from now on with longer stories and cases. How did you keep up enthusiasm for the work? I want to write an original novel, so I am forcing myself to work through the knotty bits and blocks as a learning experience. Not everything is destined to be finished or finessed, of course, but I’m finding this process is building my confidence that I can overcome problems and slow periods. I also find I know when I need some external inspiration - some of my favourite scenes have come to me while out walking the dog or sitting on the beach. I’ve also been inspired by books or other series or things going on in the world, as we all are, and sometimes that’s pushed me on. Plus, of course, I’m a newbie - I’m very much in the honeymoon period of my writing, even though I’ve loved Sherlock for ten years! (Ten years! Bonkers.)

You’ve got a knack for writing Sherlock’s thoughts and capturing his voice. That said, which character do you find easiest to write? Which is the hardest? Thank you so much. I absolutely love writing Sherlock and Mycroft, and I’m sure that’s because they suit my somewhat over-the-top writing style! I find Molly and her POV really difficult. I want the scenes I write from her perspective to sound completely different to Sherlock, but that means writing in a style which doesn’t come as naturally to me. I’m a long way off happy with that at the moment, but I’m enjoying the challenge.

Is there a scene or character that specifically inspired you to start writing Sherlolly? The whole of TFP, but especially from the moment Sherlock arrives at Musgrave onwards. I am desperate to see what a Sherlock Holmes who has been reacquainted with his own heart would look like. I find his emotionality in those final scenes hugely compelling (Mycroft’s office is one of my favourite moments from across all four series) and, as I have always believed in him and Molly, I practically jumped up back in May after watching it and said ‘right, where’s my notebook?!’.

There’s a lovely peaceful, quiet feeling to your fic ‘We’re All Right At The Moment’. Can you tell us what inspired it and if you’ve thought of doing the backstory that goes with it? Thank you! Like everyone, I would go back to January of this year and start again in a heartbeat, but I am hugely fortunate to be able to say that I have a lot to be grateful to the UK lockdowns for. I might never have begun writing in this fandom otherwise, for one, and I have had a brilliant time so far and met some lovely people. Honestly, I don’t feel able to do any sort of justice in my writing to what has happened in the world in any broader sense than drawing on my own experiences of staying at home and enjoying my family. This particular super-short fic sees Molly cutting Sherlock’s hair at home in Baker Street. I wrote it in the evening after I had cut my other half’s hair and had been reminding myself that despite how horribly worried I was - and still am - about everything, we were all right in that moment, and to focus on that as much as possible. I wanted to try to capture that, if for no reason other than to look back on this entire experience and remember something lovely, so I am so pleased to hear you felt the fic did that. It was only after I finished it and reread it, that I realised it is ambiguous as to whether Molly is worried about Sherlock contracting the virus, or whether she is remembering him being treated for it... As I say, I don’t think I could write more about these extraordinary circumstances - perhaps it’s just too close at the moment - so I don’t plan on extending it. But you know how it is, the plot bunnies hop where they will...

Do you have a Sherlolly music playlist? What are your top five favs from the list? Here’s a run down of (6 🙊) songs I have been getting emotional over in the last little while, leading my brain to assign their significance to my favourite couple...

Kissing You - Des’Ree - It’s so 90′s, it’s a bit cheesy, it’s oddly disturbing. It helped me write A Request, Made Properly, and that gave me an excuse to have Sherlock kiss Molly in the snow.

How Long Will I Love You? - Ellie Goulding - part of the playlist, but also in remembrance of a friend who passed away recently. Life is very short, love is forever.

High and Dry - Jamie Cullum - It’s made me emotional for a very long time. The original is my partner’s version of choice, this is mine.

Think About You - Delta Goodrem - Okay, this one isn’t emotional, and it’s not my usual vibe! Blame the zoom exercise class I do! But oh my goodness, it’s Molly. Bless her.

Blinded By Your Grace (P.T.2. F.T. MNEK) - Stormzy - One of the best ever, I reckon. Spent an awful lot of time thinking about angels and demons, grace and what it takes to save someone, while writing my latest - The Pathologist’s Skeletons. This has been in my head most of the (blimmin’) time!

Love Me Like You Do - Ellie Goulding - I didn’t know I was a fan of Ellie until I wrote this list... I don’t subscribe to the theory that the love Molly wants or that which Sherlock has to offer is any lesser because it isn’t ‘normal’ or expected. I don’t think romantic entanglement would come easy to either of them. But it’s still love and it would be beautiful.

Thank you so much for reading. Thanks and love to @ohaine and @mybrainrots. And thank you @sherlollyappreciationweek for the event and for everything you do ❤️

Feel like I should sign off with a quote from the show...

“You’re not a puzzle-solver, you never have been. You’re a drama queen!” Dr John Watson (Moffat & Gatiss) 2014 😜

A fav fic of mine by @mybrainrots

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563193

A fav fic of mine by @ohaine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562904

My stuff:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnglandsGray/works

#sherlolly #sherlollyselfinterview20 #sherlock #sherlockbbc #writing #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 author #read on ao3

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weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 23

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21, part 22

Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home... ;)

Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.

Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.

Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.

Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.

“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue...” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.

It was a full moon that night.

Just like it was tonight.

There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny.

Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone.

They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game.

Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now.

But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”

His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch.

“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself.

Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.”

Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this.

“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”

“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.”

“This is more than a scrape.”

He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered.

“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol.

Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?”

I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.

“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.

I looked at him, skeptically.

“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified.

And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything.

“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned.

Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.”

The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them.

I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second.

For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him.

Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-”

A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.

I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.

“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question.

“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?”

My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.

Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.”

“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.”

“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now.

But I couldn’t sit around anymore.

I needed to do something.

Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full.

We didn’t speak.

I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.

And still the clock ticked.

I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head.

One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whoosh of releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.

Lionel looked at it briefly.

The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away.

Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh.

They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won.

Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this.

He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive.

When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry.

It was the longest night I’d ever had.

But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.

------

“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.”

And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.

“Why was it so long?”

I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted.

Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles?

Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.”

“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison.

His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.

“Yeah, because you quit your PT job.”

“I got a new one!”

“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?”

I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly.

I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me.

“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off.

They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement.

“We’ve both been busy,” I said.

“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.”

“You can say hickey, Matt.”

His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.

“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened.

“What makes you say that?”

“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon. Harry Styles.”

“And?”

He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.”

“So?”

“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?”

I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.”

He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.”

He was smart not to.

“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place...” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes.

I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished.

I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.”

“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.”

Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.

“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely.

The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.

“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”

I swallowed, hard. I deserved that.

And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving.

Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both.

She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates.

The room seemed cold.

“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor.

“Mom, I told you I’d do that.”

“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before.

She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me.

I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.

“What?” I asked.

“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.”

My brows scrunched. “What?”

“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.”

“Who?”

“A waitress.”

“A waitress?”

“Nicole the waitress.”

“How do you know it was her?”

“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”

“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue.

“Still fifteen years younger than me.”

My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mom made me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other.

“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.

Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.

“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.”

“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”

She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be... shocked. If it’s true. I mean...a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?”

But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no.

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.

“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…”

“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?”

I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?”

Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up.

“Mom, seriously what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-”

“Mom, who?”

“Harry, honey.”

She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again.

“I’m sure he liked it,” I said.

“It’s an older home...he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further.

“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.

Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity.

Family was a constant.

I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?”

I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything.

Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word.

She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said.

She didn’t even try.

Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light.

Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core.

-----

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase.

My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.

Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.

Regardless…

“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?”

“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs.

I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart.

Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked.

Pale.

A clay boy.

A stitched up doll.

And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.

I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here.

Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me.

When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting.

“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest.

Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful.

I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping.

If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.

“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.”

His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.”

The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why.

My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.

“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling.

His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.

“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body...

A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.

“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”

“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”

His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.”

The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.

“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.”

“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.”

“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’t protect yourself.”

“That isn’t going to happen again.”

“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want...”

A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.”

The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.

“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.”

My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance.

“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie.

I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart.

Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.

“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to.

“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.

“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more.

My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.”

He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became.

“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-”

I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”

But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?

He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late.

“It is,” he said. No room for argument.

“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”

His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.

I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away.

I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent.

“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.

“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”

He growled. “I don’t care.”

And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.

I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.”

It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light.

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me.

My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.

In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side.

We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…

“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn't any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.

But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core.

My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-

“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.

“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.

I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.”

With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.

“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose.

“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled.

But I realized the voice was me.

The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors.

“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!”

Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable.

But Harry seemed unphased.

“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her.

“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.

“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to.

“Where in the closet?”

“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands.

Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage.

I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.

There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet.

Frick.

I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all.

I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a living room.

Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them.

Bingo.

They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years.

My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone.

I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century.

Since the seal was already broken…

My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans.

Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely.

Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation.

More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask.

For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.

Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything.

The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.

There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.

I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.

Oh, God.

Oh, Harry.

How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?

Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil.

I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far.

So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first.

A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there.

I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.

If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors.

He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers.

“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear.

He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably tried to forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare.

“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.”

As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch.

I felt my heart lurch in my throat.

“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow.

come talk about frat boy! or if you just wanna talk... i’m getting tired of talking to my dog lmao

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 4 years

Text

A Visiting Future, pt. 3

Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: A commissioned series for @girl-next-door-writes . There will be FOUR PARTS, all written.

Summary: Someone from the future comes to visit Steve and you, and they have a message.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“You got married at Stark’s cabin upstate, just close friends and family; I came a few years later.”

Steve tried to smile but everything Joel was saying sounded so absurd. The two had a proper introduction when everyone got to the Tower, once you left to find Bruce. After the DNA testing, Steve had taken Joel to the kitchen, where they made sandwiches and talked.

“How did you get here?”

Joel took a bite of his sandwich and shrugged. “Lang pretty much perfected time travel.”

“Scott?”

“No,” Joel laughed. “Cassie, she’s part of the team now. Took some convincing, but she finally joined us.”

Steve asked what team he was referring to and Joel grinned. “The Avengers.”

Before he could ask another question, you walked into the kitchen; you looked a little apprehensive, so he got up and walked over to you. Steve touched your shoulder and asked if everything was okay.

“He’s our son,” you said abruptly, pushing past him. Joel was staring at you from his seat at the table and stood up when you reached him – he had Steve’s blue eyes, but it was your expressions he wore. You saw it now, that he looked a lot like you and suddenly, it wasn’t so bad. He stood taller than you and when you reached up to touch the side of his face, tears fell from his eyes.

“Thank god you look more like me than your dad, he sure got hit by the ugly stick.”

Steve laughed in the background and Joel embraced you, like he did before but this time you held him back. You stood there together for what seemed like a lifetime, feeling the bond of mother and son, even if the two of you were virtually strangers. Steve watched as Joel held you, resting his chin on your shoulder and noticed the odd look on his face – it was an expression he had seen in the mirror before, when he thought he lost Bucky during the war, it was an expression of heartache.

…

Steve’s room was quiet as he laid on the bed, hands under his head. It was after midnight and Joel had taken up one of the extra rooms down the hall. The three of you had spent the entire night getting to know each other and even oddly, sharing a round of beers – not before Steve asked Joel his age.

“You know you gave me my first drink of beer at 12.”

“Steve Rogers,” you yelled, laughing at the notion that Steve would do such a thing. “And here I thought you were a hard ass for rules.”

“He lightened up once he became a parent,” Joel explained – the three of you shared a laugh and that’s how the night went. Laughs and little anecdotes, and everyone avoiding the real question – why had Joel come to visit? He was hiding something, and Steve could sense it, but even he was afraid to ask; some things might be better left unsaid. Then there was the fact that he and you were married in the future, had a family and life together – he had never once thought to blink twice in your direction, not that he didn’t find you attractive but you were his friend. He had confided in you in many ways and it never crossed his mind to cross that line.

It was a lot to think about.

Steve laid still, hoping to fall asleep, but a quiet knock on his door had him sitting up. He called out to whoever was there, when the door opened, you walked in. You closed the door behind you, and he got up from the bed, asking if something was wrong.

“Is Joel okay?”

“He’s fine, he’s asleep, I needed to see you.”

He crossed his arms against his chest, very aware that he was just in boxers and a sleeveless undershirt. You didn’t seem to notice or at least pretended you hadn’t. “What’s going on?”

Steve approached you, keeping a little distance as you studied his face, noticing for the first time that you could easily fall for him – you knew Steve, more than some. Knew what pissed him off and what could make him smile, knew how strong of a leader he was but also could read his face like the back of your hand. There was also the fact that he was attractive, but that never mattered to you – it was always about the heart and Steve had the biggest one.

“Kiss me.”

“What?’

Steve’s look of confusion made you smile, shrugging lightly, you touched the side of his face. “We have a son, Steve, a son! That means somewhere down the line we get together; I just can't stop thinking about it.”

‘I can’t either,” he admitted. The two of you awkwardly drew closer to each other, holding back chuckles as you wrapped both arms around his neck, feeling his hands on your waist. His touch was warm, and it felt strange at first because your friend was touching you in such an intimate way and when you kissed him, both of you laughed.

“I feel like I’m back in grade school.”

“Same,” Steve grinned and removed his hands from your body. “We should get some sleep, want me to walk you back to your room?’

“No, I don’t want to be alone, can I stay with you?”

He realized then that you seemed to be suffering from all the over thinking too, so he said yes. You got into his bed, the left side and relaxed under the blanket. Steve stood there for a moment, watching as you yawned and snuggled against his pillow. Smiling to himself, he got back into bed, the right side, and faced you. His eyes glanced over you face, the softness in your cheeks as your eyes closed to rest, and he realized he could get used to it – having you next to him in bed.

...

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#a visiting future #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel #marvel imagine

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idvrorschachask · 3 years

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dr aesop have u considered joseph is weird and obsessed w u bcos hes a dumb stupid idiot with a stupid big gay crush on u but he hasnt healthily processed an emotion since like 1790 so instead of doing anything remotely normal he was super cagey about it and dropped tiny hints before totally chickening out cos despite how much he craves it he’s still abjectly terrified of genuine emotional intimacy and vulnerability; & when that predictably didnt work, instead of doing literally anything else he decided the most rational course of action was 2 gaslight gatekeep girlboss his way into ur heart? yknow… just… all conjecture here…

"This... is an oddly specific thought anon. I'm curious as to why you would think that..." Aesop took the time to think over the words given, considering it carefully. "....Perhaps you have a point. But that would mean you're saying Joseph is an immortal being to which I start to question your sanity. Perhaps he is, which brings many more questions to the table that don't even involve him to this point. But... let us.... say you are right. In that case.... what are you hiding from me to know all of those extremely specific details about Joseph? Have you been watching him since the 1790's? Are you also an immortal being?" The doctor shook his head slowly after saying that. "... I'm going crazy thinking about this. Maybe you should drop by my office, it seems you are also going crazy as well. Perhaps I can fix it before you make me go insane with these thoughs"

#idvrorschachask #idv embalmer #idv askblog #idv anon ask #well you tried #you made aesop insane in the process though #rip #perhaps this could be used as an event lol

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weightlessrosewrites · 4 years

Text

Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader Part 2

Tw: mentions of death, angst Masterlist

(Name) stared up at the house she finally had all her stuff moved into. Tonight was the first night she'd be alone. The thought was equally terrifying and exhilarating. She scanned the property, catching a glimpse of the expanse of forest behind the house and the large willow over hanging a stream the gurgled peacefully. (Name) smiled before heading into the house. Her bestfriend, Eren, was already in the house making himself at home, which caused her to laugh when she walked into the living room.

Eren gave her a cheeky grin. " Sup, fancy seeing you here. " (Name) snorted, " yeah, as if this isn't my house. " Despite the age difference, they were quite close. (Name) being in her final two years for college, and Eren being in his last year of high school.

" Hey, you don't mind if I invite my friend over later, do you? He lives near by, and we've been meaning to hang out. " (Name) gave Eren a curious look. " He's not another werewolf, if he? " Eren shook his head. " Nah, he's uh.. Actually a vampire. " Eren responded, putting his feet on the coffee table.

(Name) rubbed her neck subconsciously. " That's neat, I've never met a vampire before, to be honest, I didn't think I'd really want too. " She laughed, and Eren chuckled. " Nah, he's good. He doesn't bite people without asking if it's okay first. " " Oh good. " She giggled.

---

It had been several months now. Levi was now a common sight in (Name)'s house, as was Eren, much to her dismay. As with Eren, always came a giant mess. He was part dog after all. For the seventh time that evening, (Name) had let out a huge sigh. Eren had gone home, and left her living room a mess. She furrowed her brows when there was a knock at her door. It was pretty late, but not insanely late.

She walked over to the front door and unlocked it, opening it only to discover Levi. " oh, hey Levi! Eren left like.. ten minutes ago. " He raised a brow. " I know, I saw him running. " (Name) blinked. " Ah.. then why are you here? If you don't mind me asking. " I came to visit you. I have some questions I feel like asking now that I know you better. May I come in? "

(Name) stepped aside. " Yeah, no problem.. uh.. I still need to clean up the living room, so you probably don't want to, y'know, go in there. It's a mess. " Levi only rolled his eyes, walking in and shutting the door before taking off his shoes. " Eren lived with me for a year, I know how much of a mess he can make. " Again, (Name) blinked in surprise.

" Uh, well, your questions, what are they? " She asked, following him to the living room where Levi started to clean for her, out of habit. " Technically it's only one question. " He responded. " Oh? " " You have an incurable, deadly disease, don't you. " Levi looked over at her, living room already half cleaned. But (Name) was flabbergasted. Not at how quickly her living room was cleaned, no. She had gotten used to Levi's fast cleaning pace over the months. It was his bold statement. Something no one knew but herself... and the one who gave it to her; Dr. Grisha Yeager.

" I... How did you know? " She asked, eyes wide. Levi didn't think he'd get this far, he'd expected her to toss him out like last time. Last time... As a vampire, Levi had been around for a long time. This time he remember his past two lives. And (Name)'s past three reincarnations; this would be her fourth. Something he had realized was that this disease always took her life a few months after she turned twenty five.

" I know because... " He didn't want to say it, Levi didn't want to admit it. " The worst of it always hits you a few months after you hit twenty-five. You always die. " Levi turned away. (Name) dropped what she as holding. " ...what? " Levi almost flinched at the tone of her voice. Almost. He had, most certainly, expected this reaction. One of many. " And Grisha has been the one to give it to you. Every single time. " Levi finished cleaning.

(Name) watched him. She felt... Odd. Uncomfortable? But Levi was right. Grisha was the one who gave it to her. And she hated him. (Name) watched Levi walked over to the window, and look up at the darkening sky. " For some reason, I thought this time would be different but. When Eren invited me over the first night, and you opened the door I.. Could smell it on you. " " Well that's a little creepy, don't you think? " (Name) joked, attempting to lighten the mood. She could tell this topic was hurting him, they must've been close in their past lives.

Levi turned to look at her, and his face was oddly calm. But (Name) could see his eyes, the color of gunmetal, and they were a storm of emotions. " Hey... Obviously this bothers you, so lets not talk about it, okay? " She spoke softly, a frown sliding onto her face. Levi shook his head and looked out the window. " Every single time. Minutes before you pass, you always. Always. Make me promise to meet you in the next life, and I have. This time... Was not soon enough. And I.. apologize for that. "

(Name) frowned. " Levi... " " Don't. That's how you start it. I have to leave, I was just stopping by. My mother needs me to get her blood tonight, she can't feed off Carla. " (Name) nodded. " Because Carla is sick. " And Levi nodded, leaving shortly after. She heaved a sigh and flopped on the couch, a frown on her face. (Name) was now alone completely, and she really wish someone was here with her still. (Name) wanted to know more, even though she knew it'd bring her pain.

---

It was late when Levi showed up to (Name)'s with Hanji, his scientific witch friend. When (Name) opened the door, Levi's motionless heart sank. Tonight was the night. Hanji immediately ushered the girl in, out of sight from any possible prying eyes as blood dripped down her chin, staining the beautiful blouse she wore. (Name) uttered a come in for Levi, who followed in quickly and shut the door.

" So how is Erwin treating you? " Hanji asked joyfully, to keep the mood up from the impending sorrow. " I sure hope my spouse isn't giving you a lot of homework. " They grinned cheekily, helping (Name) on the couch. She giggled weakly. " I actually just finished all the work he gave me.. though there's a little blood on them. "

Levi frowned, walking in to survey the mess. As he figured, (Name) hadn't been able to keep up cleaning, and it looked like Eren had been over. There were distinct paw marks on the ceiling, making Levi question it but not sure if he wanted the answer. But (Name) saw him staring anyways. " I have no idea how he got paw marks on the ceiling. I was making him lunch in the kitchen one minute, " She paused, a violent coughing fit wracking her body causing the other two to wince. " and next I'm hearing pained yelping. Obviously leaving Eren to his own devices isn't smart. "

Levi snorted. " Yeah, you can say that again. " He started cleaning out of habit, and (Name) giggled. Hanji and (Name) sat in silence for a moment, watching Levi clean. " Um, Hanji, could you get me some water please? " She asked them. Hanji nodded and got up, leaving the living room. Shortly after (Name) started coughing again, knocking her phone off the couch as she fell forward. Levi was immediately at her side as (Name)'s phone skittered across the hardwood floor, the only sound being her coughing, and the panicked foot falls from Hanji as they ran back into the living room with water, but froze at the door.

(Name) was coughing up a lot of blood. More than Hanji has ever seen when drawing blood from their patients even. (Name) was limp in Levi's arms, and they could see the pain in his eyes. Levi rubbed her back soothingly, in an attempt to cease the fit. And it worked.

" Levi.. " She managed to get out, body shaking. " No. Don't say it. " He responded immediately. Hanji carefully backed out, and instead leaned against the hallway wall just out of sight. " What if.. What if you were to turn me? " She asked before breaking into another fit, more violent than the last.

He shook his head. " We tried last time. It worked, for a moment. I can't go through that again. " " ..oh. W-well... In that case... Promise me- " " -stop, please don't finish that. " Levi interrupted (Name), and Hanji could feel a tear slide down their face at the voice crack in Levi's voice. It was hard enough for them, but they could only imagine how Levi felt. Especially when they knew Levi remember all her past deaths this time around, to experience this a fourth time? Hanji was heart broken for them.

" Promise me we will meet again in the next life.. I-I've come- " She paused, coughing again. More blood, enough to thoroughly soak his shirt. " I've come to realize... even though I start fresh every time wi-with no memory of you.. I still.. re-really care for you... So please... Promise... "

" I promise. " Fell on deaf ears, as (Name) lay lifeless in his arms. This time, Levi didn't stop the tears, which even he realized was uncharacteristic for him. " Hanji... " He choked out. " She's... She's gone. "

Hanji walked into the room. " Oh.. Levi... I'm so sorry... " They frowned, immediately walking over and setting the glass of water down before kneeling beside him. " ...(Name) knew... That's why she sent you away. I-I think she wanted to spare me the embarrassment. How ridiculous... " Hanji rubbed his back soothingly. " She'll be reborn again... " This was, as Hanji immediately realized, the wrong thing to say as Levi slapped their hand away. " No! I-I can't. I can't do this again. "

He got up with (Name) in his arms, laying her on the couch and closing her eyelids. " ...I can't do it again. If I die here, tonight, our souls will wait for a cure. When we're reborn into the next life, there will be a cure for her. " " Levi... " " No. I can't stand it. I cannot fucking stand the loneliness of waiting for her to be reborn, and then waiting for her to be an adult, only to have a few fucking years to be with her. I can't fucking do it again. "

" What are you going to do? For heavens sake Levi, you're immortal. " They responded, confused. But Levi stayed silent, turning away from (Name) and looked at Hanji instead. That's when it dawned on them. " ..oh.. you.. you want me to stake you. " " Stake me, and burn my body. " He said, looking them dead in the eye.

Hanji shifted uncomfortably. " This is going to hurt me... A lot. Levi, you're my best friend... " " We will meet again in the next life, shitty glasses. "

---

(Name) walked into the art building and headed to her floor. She sighed softly. It was only her third day, but she still felt shy. Not to mention she shared a table with another guy who'd be absent for the last two classes, although her teacher, Mike Zacharias, said this was normal for the student.. That didn't mean it didn't make her any less nervous.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice a shorter man step into the elevator with her. It wasn't until he accidentally dropped his phone and swore, that (Name) noticed. She blinked once. Twice. This man looked familiar to her, but she was certain she'd never met him. The man stood up straight, and (Name) noticed a few of his tattoos. She smiled faintly, but he caught her starting.

" ..can I help you? " He asked, quirking a brow. (Name) flushed, causing him to smirk a little. " I-I no, no that's uh, that's okay. I just sort of noticed your tattoos? I uh, I really like them. " She squeaked out, embarrassed at being caught. He snorted and turned away from her. However, he noticed how pale she looked.. and that she looked sort of sickly.

It wasn't until they both got off on the same floor and walked down to one of Mike's classes that (Name) figured he was her missing table partner. Thankfully, she walked in first as he stopped to talk to someone. ...And boy, was she glad she did, because when he walked in there was an excited squeal from one of her more annoying classmates who seemed really sweet but talked way to much.

(Name) watched Petra practically fling herself at the guy, who's name she still didn't know, and giggled softly when he dodged completely. She turned away after and got her stuff out, lastly her headphones. She was glad that Mike wasn't overloading them with projects, and currently only had two. Two that didn't have to been done any time soon. (Name) popped her headphones in and got to work, sketching. Fortunately, he said they could do anything, and since (Name) was a commission artist, that's what she worked on.

A few minutes in, (Name) felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked up, pulling a earbud out. It was the guy from the elevator. He raised a brow at her. " Mike said I need to introduce myself to you. The names Levi Ackerman. " " (FName) (LName). I-it's nice to meet you. " And there was the stutter. God, she wished she wasn't shy. " Is that so? I think I heard the brat talking about you, Eren thinks very highly of you. " Levi stated, leaning back as he pulled out his sketch book. " He told me that if I ever got to meet you, that he figured we'd get along well. " " H-he did, did he? Th-that's just like Eren... Trying to find m-me more friends. I think i-it's fruitless b-but he doesn't stop.. "

Levi glanced at her. " Fruitless? What makes you say that? " Levi was genuinely curious, (Name) could tell that much, and despite not knowing him very well, she told him anyways. " I have.. A condition that I was diagnosed with as.. as a kid. I can't get treatment until I turn twenty-five because of how serious it is and.. well, the survival rate is fifty-fifty. " She shifted uncomfortably, dropping her pencil.

Levi's mouth suddenly dried. His body tingled, and there was this nagging feeling at the back of his mind, trying to tell him something. Did he know her? Levi was certain he'd never, ever met (Name). Only heard about her from Eren. Levi couldn't bring himself to look away from her. " A fatal condition? With a fifty-fifty survival rate? Levi couldn't imagine.

" Uh.. I'm sorry to hear that. " He managed out, trying to be as sympathetic as he knew how. She only shrugged and picked her pencil up. " Even if I don't survive.. I don't have many people who really care for me.. I literally have Eren, his adopted sister, and their mom. " Levi watched as she started drawing again. " What.. about school? " He asked. Another shrug. " This was just something for me to do so I didn't waste away being depressed about it. As it is.. I'm told depression runs on both sides of my blood family so. I guess it was inevitable? " " You're blood family? " " Carla adopted me when I was eight, but she never forced me to call her mom. My parents drove of a cliff. It was called an accident but, I think it was suicide. Escape being parents, y'know? They never wanted me, my grandfather forced my mother to keep me but he passed away four months after my eighth birthday and... bam! Dead parents. "

Well.. Levi certainly wasn't expecting that. He stared at her, and she must have been able to read body language. " oh, sorry. I uh, I started rambling, you probably didn't need to know all that. " But Levi only shrugged slowly. (Name) gave him a half smile.

---

A few months went by, and Levi found himself becoming closer and closer with (Name). When he asked about her birthday, she refused to tell him because, and these were her words, " I don't want you to miss me if I don't make it. " Which Levi found absolutely ridiculous. When Levi called his mother that night to vent, he learned that (Name) was in fact, not born with this disease, but in fact injected with it, by none other than Dr. Grisha Yeager, an ex-scientist who worked on finding a cure for the disease. Now presumed dead, half of the patient's he tested the formula with didn't make it.

Even more disturbingly: Grisha had injected his own son with it. Eren, however, was fit and strong for his young self, and still had a few years. As it was, people used to have to wait until they reached fifteen to get the cure, and the survival rate was even less. Levi was confident by the time he reached twenty five, he'd be cured.

Currently, Levi was marching down the hall of the student apartment building. It was his luck that he was on the same floor, a couple doors down even. He did, however, feel bad when (Name) opened the door. It was late, and she looked tired. " Bad time? " He asked. (Name) shook her head. " Nah, I like your company. " She smiled cheekily. 'And I like you.'

Levi walked in and shut the door behind her. " My mom informed me when your birthday is... It's coming up. I think we should go out for drinks. " He watched her tense up and round on him, and she looked a lot more tired now. " ...seriously? " (Name) asked in disbelief. Levi nodded. " I'm always serious. " He deadpanned. (Name) giggled slightly, though tiredly.

" I get the feeling you'll pester me until I say yes, so fine. However I don't want to get drunk... I'm a bit of a light weight and alcohol is a depressant. It's not a good mix for me. " She informed. Levi nodded, understanding. His uncle was an alcoholic.

---

Hanji dropped the two off at Levi's apartment, shaking their head. While neither of them were drunk, they definitely weren't sober. " Do you two need help? " They asked, concerned, but absolutely amused. Levi waved them off. " Go fuck eyebrows. " He snipped, clearly annoyed that Hanji would even ask if he needed help. (Name) snorted. " No thanks Hanji. " They rolled their eyes and smiled at (Name). " Alright, call me if you need anything. " And with that, they were gone.

Levi and (Name) walked in after he unlocked it, and shut the door behind them. " How.. How do you feel? " He stumbled on his words slightly, trying to figure out how to lock the door. (Name) out her hand on the wall to steady herself. " Great, actually. " She slowly headed to the living room where Levi had blown up a queen sized air mattress for her.

Levi followed when he figured out how to lock his door. " Mm, (Name)? " He called. She looked over his shoulder at him. " Yeah? " " I don't... I don't want you to die. " He slurred ever so slightly. The (h/c) girl snorted in response. " I don't plan on it. " (Name) stumbled into the living room and fell on the mattress with a soft thud. Levi followed in shortly after, collapsing on the couch. (Name), however, had other plans in her slightly foggy mind as she pulled him down off the couch and onto the mattress with her. There was enough room after all.

Levi chuckled, squirming to get comfortable. " Mmm, I haven't had a drink in ages. " " You shouldn't be drinking all the... all the time anyways. " Responded the other, almost in a scolding tone. " School is more important. " Levi only have a long, thoughtful hum. " I~ know what's more important than school. " He said, shifting onto his side.

(E/c) peered into his gray ones, obviously confused in her state. What could be more important than school? " What's that? " " You. " Levi answer honestly. They fell into a semi awkward, but comfortable silence for a few moments, staring at each other before (Name) spoke.

"..me? " She asked softly, unconvinced. " What's so special about me? I'm sick, and my chance for living is... fifty-fifty? Yeah. There's no reason that... That I am more important- " "-nonsense, " Levi cut her off. Maybe it was the liquid courage running through his veins that suddenly made him feel confident enough to tell her. " You... You reached me on a level no one else could. " He found himself struggling with words, after all, Levi wasn't exactly a talkative person. " Almost.. almost like we are on the same... " " Like we're on the same wavelength, an understanding only we have with each other? " (Name) finished the sentence softly, sensing his struggle.

Levi only nodded, raising a hand to gently brush the bangs out of her eyes. The action wasn't special, but (Name) placed her hand over his. " I think that too. I... I think we were meant... " She trailed off, not as confident as Levi. " Meant to be together. " It wasn't a question, more of a statement. A statement she nodded at. " So.. you wouldn't mind if I... Kissed you? " Levi asked, voice quiet.

(Name) shook her head, " I wouldn't mind at all. " She confirmed. Levi leaned down the rest of the way and closed the gap, kissing her gently. And (Name) returned it, just as gentle.

---

Levi paced around the waiting room anxiously, and Hanji felt just as nervous watching Levi as they felt waiting for (Name)'s blood test results. Since they didn't work at this hospital, Hanji had nothing to say to try and make Levi feel better. Hanji did feel like the odds were in their favor, and that (Name) would be okay.

" Levi please, sit down. She'll be okay. " Hanji told him, but the waver in their voice betrayed their emotions. Levi stopped and turned to look at them, giving Hanji an ice cold look. " You don't even know, so don't try to tell me she'll be fine. " But Levi relented and sat down beside them, folding his arms and giving the floor a murderous stare.

" Your mother is coming as soon as she finds a ride. " Hanji said softly. Levi gave them a look. " For heavens sake, it's after midnight, why the fuck did you call my mother. " He hissed. " She needs her rest. " Hanji gave him a look. " Because the only person closer to you than (Name) is your mother. " " We're close, aren't we? " He asked, scowling at them. " Yes, Levi you're my best friend, but our bond is no where near as strong as your bond with (Name) and your mother, and I can see that you're hurting, and you need them. "

Levi scoffed and turned away from them, angry. He just didn't know who to be angry at anymore.

---

A month later (Name) was discharged from the hospital, although she still had a lot of healing to do, she was disease free. While she healed, she was given a long medical leave from college, and would be able to pick up right where she left off with Mike teaching still. (Name) stayed with Levi's mother, Kuchel, who was very diligent in taking care of her future daughter-in-law. Yes, she wasn't fooled.

Levi frequently visited after classes were over, to bring (Name) tea or to tell her what happened. One day he'd even told her about how his work had finally gotten noticed by a tattoo parlor, and that he had now started interning there. (Name) was, to say the least, very proud.

The road to recovery was long, longer than Levi admitted he liked, but progress was progress. Four months after (Name) was discharged, she was finally back in class. Although said classes were much shorter and much more difficult, Levi spent all his time helping her. Eight months after being discharged, (Name) was back in class full time and worked hard on catching up. Levi kept a close eye on her, making sure she didn't overwork herself. Which proved... Difficult. It had been unfortunate that Levi's stubbornness had rubbed off on her.

When Levi told his mother this, Kuchel had laughed lightheartedly and told him this was payback for all the times Levi had been unwell and still tried to help around the house. Levi had turned away, a light pink hue dusting his cheeks in embarrassment as he exclaimed, " Mother! "

A year and three months after (Name) was discharged, she was completely healthy again. Her immune system back to what it had been before, though Levi would argue that it was even better. He was proud. (Name) had made a name for herself as a self employed artist, and now photographer. These two things took a lot of her day time up, and even some evenings. But Levi didn't mind. At the end of the day, he still got to hold her in his arms as she lay asleep.

Levi often thought what might've happened had she not made it, and hated that possibility. It seemed, however, that (Name) had a sixth sense for his self destructive nature and would always wake up. When this happened, they talked quietly about it until he felt better.

But Levi was a bit of an insomniac, so the most he'd sleep would be two to three hours a night. He didn't mind it anymore, though. Levi got to hold the love of his life. That's all he could have ever asked for. He figured everyone deserved a happy ending, no matter what.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #attack on titan levi x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader

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wingsofkpop · 5 years

Text

Finding SKZ - 11: YNXX 2/2

pairing(s): Hybrid!Bang Chan x Reader, Hybrid!SKZ x Reader

genre: Hybrid!AU, Dystopian!AU, there’s actually Fluff, but Angst too, Smut finally!!!

warning(s): Mature language, violence, blood and gore, flashbacks and hallucinations, mentions of drug use, mentions of suicide, mentions of abuse, explicit smut including but not limited to unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, etc.

Trigger/Smut Warning - This chapter does contain explicit scenes of suicide, violence and sex. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable/will be harmed with/by any of these topics

word count: 10,6k

chapter directory

The scarlet and orange flames dance in front of your eyes, almost as if beckoning you to throw yet another piece of firewood into its hungering grasp. You turn away from the fire, instead watching how it blazes within each surrounding set of hooded irises. A smile upturns your lips at the realization that Felix’s eyes sparkle while Jeongin’s shimmer. And Minho’s glow while Jisung’s glimmer. You wondered if your own eyes were as bright. Or if they were dim from the haunting ghosts of grief and betrayal.

Woojin had managed to drive far enough into the forest to evade whatever security the scientists sent after all of you. You drove for hours and hours, discovering the border to be a lot farther away than you originally thought. So far, your main plan was to pass the border, find some hidden door and escape to Yellow Wood using Chan’s key. Although, even if Changbin knew the general location, none of you knew what to expect.

What if there turned out to be no door at all?

Footsteps submerge your consciousness from your thoughts and you turn to see Chan and Changbin returning from the jeep with a couple of bags. He wasn’t lying when he told you the scientists allowed him and the boys to leave. They even provided them with a fully stocked car with food, clothing and any supplies nine boys could need. The thought made you nauseous. Your mind flashes back to the image of Chan standing behind the glass of your cage.

You shake it away. He came back for you. They all did.

You have to remember that.

“Who’s hungry?” Chan chuckles, plopping down on the makeshift log seat in between Hyunjin and Felix. Changbin lowers beside you, sandwiching your form in between him and Jeongin. You and the youngest spoke a little on the ride before Woojin called for a rest stop. He was probably one of the cutest boys you’ve ever met. And he was more than willing to cheer you up from your depressive thoughts with a special performance of his: Trot.

“Starving!” Jisung heaves. The leader chuckles again, unzips one of the backpacks and pulls out numerous packages of already prepared fried chicken. Changbin offers you a bottle of Coke, Sprite or water, and you graciously accept your favorite choice. He sends you a soft smile, which you return with one of your own.

“Channie-hyung, are there any ramen cups?”

“Let me check, I think there were a couple here somewhere-” Chan digs through the same backpack before tossing it away and searching through another. Neither of the two provide him any victory, so he turns to peer into the one behind him. His body visibly tenses as he unzips it, which he quickly zips up. He move back around, “(Y/N), I think this is yours.”

“What?” With furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, you reach forward to collect the backpack in your arms. It was oddly heavy against your limbs and connected to the ground with a loud thud when you set it down between your legs. Like Chan, you unzip it and part the flaps. Your confusion dissipates to sorrow.

A single note card was laid a top whatever was packed inside the bag. You recognize the penmanship immediately and the realization wells tears in the corners of your eyes. You take the paper between quivering fingers and lift it toward the fire light for a better view. With a deep, calming breath, you read the words scrawled across the page:

(Y/N),

I want you to stay with those hybrid boys. They’ll take care of you better than your mother and I ever could. I hope you’ll find somewhere where you’ll be safe and happy. You deserve that more than anyone. I’m sorry for everything I never told you.

I’ll be with you always.

“I ran into your aunt when I was trying to convince Dr. Bang to let me see you,” Minho says from across the fire, his eyes twinkling underneath the wrath of the flames. “She told me to give that to you. Said it would help you think of home.”

You smile just as a single tear pushes itself from your eye, but you wipe it away before it can fall. With a heavy, aching, yet oddly calm heart, you retract the items from the bag. Each elicit a pleasant memory from the deepest depths of those you forgot. The camera your mother bought for your twelfth birthday. The stuffed animal you’ve had since you were a baby. The journal you’ve barely filled with your deepest, darkest secrets.

Surprisingly though, you felt numb. Whether it be from the bitterness of this life you once knew and lived having always been one big lie, or the suffocating idea that both your mother and your aunt were now gone, you couldn’t tell. That is two deaths on your conscious now.

You felt even sicker.

“Thank you, Minho… but I can’t keep these things.”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, “It’s kind of hard to describe, but I just… It doesn’t feel like these things are really mine anymore…

“Here, I think I have something for each one of you.”

Eighteen pairs of eyes widen at your words. You shush Chan and Woojin when they attempt to usher the idea of you giving away your precious items. The other boys remain alert, ears twitching in excitement and figures fidgeting in impatience at the possibility of receiving gifts. You turn to Jeongin first and tug your favorite furry earmuffs from your middle school winters over his fox ears. You sigh, “I know it’s not very exciting, but these will keep you warm no matter how cold it is. They match your fur too.”

Jeongin giggles while thumbing at his new gift, “Thank you, (Y/N)-noona.”

“You’re welcome, Jeongin.” You pull out more items from your childhood. “Woojin, this jacket should fit you perfectly. And Felix, I remember you saying you always wanted an old gameboy.”

“Way cool! Thank you so much!” Felix all but snatches the device from your fingertips, squealing in delight when the screen lights up in response. On the other hand, you have to convince Woojin to try the jacket on. After testing the fit, he reluctantly accepts. You can’t help but smile while watching him cuddle into its warmth.

One by one, you bestow a present from your past onto the people of your future. Hyunjin, a pair of oversized dancing shoes your father bought in an attempt to rekindle your already lost relationship. Jisung, the stuffed animal that protected you during your childhood fears of the dark and thunderstorms. Changbin, the journal with blank pages ready to be filled with song lyrics. All that was left, Minho, Seungmin and Chan.

“Forget about me?” Minho chuckles. Playfully, he waggles a charred poker makeshifted from a long stick.

You return with a snicker of your own and shake your head, “How could I ever? Think fast.”

You toss the item high, safe enough to fly and land far away from the flames. With cupped hands, Minho manages to catch his gift midair. His expression starts as confusion before gradually shifting to remorse once he realizes what it was.

“I was going to wish for my mom to get better… but I never got to the bridge in time...” You chuckle, thumbing at a loose thread hung from your badly torn jeans. “Wherever we end up, and when you think the time is right, I want you to make your own wish.”

Minho smiles and clutches the unused lock between both palms. Beneath the glow of the fire and the sliver of moonlight, you could see the start of tears glistening in his deep brown eyes. He sighs, “...Thank you, (Y/N)-ah.”

You nod. Not knowing what else to say.

“Here, Seungmin.” You offer the beagle the precious polaroid camera you practically begged for how many years ago. With trembling, eager hands, the youngster takes the device from you, cradling it within his palms. His eyebrows furrow as he fusses with different mechanics. Then, raises the camera and aims it straight at you. You barely get the chance to blink before the familiar click enters your ears and the device whirs out a laminated sheet.

Seungmin shakes the photograph, gazes at it with such admiration and turns back to you with tears in his eyes, “Thank you so much, (Y/N)-noona. I really don’t deserve this-”

“-Of course you do.” You argue, waving your hand to dismiss his insecurity away. “Min, I don’t care about whatever happened back at the lab. You guys came back for me-”

“-You don’t understand.” Seungmin shakes his head, “Noona, I wasn’t talking about you.”

Your chest tightens, “What do you mean?”

“Yeah, Seungminie? What do you mean?” At Changbin’s voice, you realize the other members are all now listening to your conversation with the hybrid. An obvious tension carried between the lot of you.

Seungmin glances warily at Chan, who nods his head in response. The beagle refuses to meet anyone’s gaze, continues to fiddle with his new camera and guiltily murmurs, “I... I was the reason that… none of us were really… put where we were supposed to be...”

“Seungmin-ah? What are you saying?”

He shakes his head, “The MCHPF had me… change the location of where to send everyone…

“I’m the reason Woojin-hyung ended up in the circus, and Jisung at the club… It’s how I knew where everyone was….” Seungmin finishes with a heavy exhale, as if releasing the weight he had been burdened with for god knows how long.

“Hang on a second,” Your head snaps to see Hyunjin rising out of his seat with a shocked and angered expression across his features. “You were the reason I was in that damn ring?”

“Hyunjin, please. Seungmin had reason to.” Chan attempts to calm the furious dalmation, but only works to tense Hyunjin’s cropped ears even further. “Don’t be upset with-”

Hyunjin gasps, “-Don’t be upset!? How the hell am I supposed to not be upset!? You have no idea how much shit I went through in that ring!... How many fights I almost fucking died to!

“And what about Jisung!? How many times was he raped in that club!?” You wince at Hyunjin’s observation, catching how Jisung’s cat ears fall flat against his head. “Or both Felix and Woojin being abused both physically and verbally!? What about-!?”

“-They were gonna kill Jeongin if I didn’t do it!” Seungmin sobs, effectively cutting off his brother’s frantic voice. His body begins to rock back and forth while his fingers dig into the flesh of his knees, “They needed you in certain places so we could-”

“-You were in on this, weren’t you?” Woojin interrupts this time. His question was aimed toward the oddly silent wolf. Chan’s shoulders fall, similar to the way his neck arches toward the ground. Like Seungmin, he doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. He only nods.

“So not only were you willing to give (Y/N)-ah up, but you let us be pawns in their game.” Woojin mutters sadly.

Chan shakes his head, “It wasn’t like that. I did it so we could-”

“-Be free.” Hyunjin growls, sending both his guilty brothers a sneer. “There’s always a price to pay for freedom. Who knew it’d be your own family.”

The dalmatian storms from the circle and back in the direction of the jeep. A breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding releases from your parted lips, staining the silent atmosphere with even more tension. You debated on soothing the crying beagle beside you, but Woojin beats you to it, “Seungmin-ssi, come on. Let’s go calm you down.”

Chan rises with the two, as if to run after Hyunjin, but the bear shakes his head, “Don’t. I think you’ve done enough.”

“We’ll go calm Jinnie down.” Jeongin, Felix and Jisung all break from the circle and scurry after their brother. You watch their silhouettes bleed into the pitch black of night. A strange feeling arising in your stomach as they go.

“Well, awkward.” Minho hums, drumming his fingers against the empty seats beside him. He hesitates for a minute, just staring into the low flames of the fire, before continuing, “Changbinnie and I will go help Woojin-hyung and Seungminnie. I’m sure you two need some time to talk anyway.”

You curse the coyote for ducking out of the situation that easily, and you’re almost tempted to give him the finger as he and Changbin disappear deeper into the forest. A huff brushes past your lips. With nothing to lose, you turn to peer at the only remaining hybrid’s face.

In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Almost too perfect to be real. His dark roots were beginning to show along the line of his scalp and thus, emphasized the bleached color of his blonde locks and the silver of his hybrid ears. His hair was also in its naturally curled form which you so rarely saw back at your apartment. You loved Chan’s curls. Then again, you loved everything about Chan.

At least, you thought you did.

With a deep sigh, you climb to your feet and make your way to where the wolf is sat. You don’t bother asking, take the seat beside him and stare straight into the fire. The silence you expected to remain breaks at his soft whisper:

“I’m a monster.”

You sigh, “No, you’re not. You’re just… trying to protect your family.”

“By hurting and lying to them?” Chan’s hands fly to his hair, fingers tugging harshly at his roots. Your heart cracks at his frantic stature, having never before seen him look so insecure and distressed. “Woojin’s right… All of this was just one big game that I played… and dragged the people I love into…”

“It wasn’t your fault. You did what you thought was the best thing for your brothers.” Gently, you place a hand on the hybrid’s shoulder. His figure tightens beneath your touch and it sends an ache into your gut. “Don’t do this to yourself, Chan.”

“Don’t act like you don’t hate me for what I did.” The wolf’s sudden growl has you flinching backward. The eyes which connect with yours are ones you’ve seen, but only in times where fear and Chan existed in the same place. Even so, you didn’t find yourself intimidated. Beneath the aggression, you could see a boy locked in a cage. One filled with despair and terror.

You inhale an unsteady gust of air, barely holding back a cough as the zest of smoke tickles at your throat. Another hand is lifted toward the wolf. This time, splaying across the surface of his pale cheek. Your lips barely upturn, but it’s enough for the ferocity to disperse from his irises.

“I could never hate you.” You whisper truthfully with a sad smile, “What you did… hurt me… It hurt me a lot…

“But I could never hate you for it.”

Just as a droplet cascades from his eye, you wipe it away. Chan shakes his head, “I never wanted to hurt you…”

“Chan-”

“-Really, I didn’t.” He says more firmly. Your hand on his cheek is pulled away and instead cradled between his larger palm. With it occupied, you couldn’t wipe the other tears blemishing the wolf’s face. “Do you think you could ever forgive me?”

Those words fracture whatever pieces are left of your heart.

Once again, no matter how much it hurt, you answer truthfully, “I don’t know…”

“That’s fair…”

“Yeah…” When your hands slip from his, you immediately miss his warmth. You will the feelings away, ignoring the temptation to throw your arms around Chan and hold him until the sun comes up. As much as you wanted to forgive and forget, you couldn’t. The damage that was done was just that:

Unforgettable.

“Hyung, noona, we’re gonna head out soon.” Jisung’s voice drowns out your overbearing thoughts. Without one last glance at the wolf, you rise to your feet and follow the cat hybrid back toward the jeep. Minho was in the driver’s seat this time with Felix in the passenger. Woojin and Changbin were in the process of reloading bags in whatever space was available. You were surprised to see Hyunjin and Seungmin sitting beside each other. Although neither were really speaking to one another.

“It’ll be about another day until we reach the border,” Changbin hums while taking a seat beside Woojin. Chan climbs over him to take the bear’s other side. You follow Jisung and position yourself between him and Jeongin. It was a little cramped, but it could be worse. “We should have enough gasoline to get us there.”

“Gre-” You go to reply, but a sudden pang in the back of your brain has a surprised groan spilling from your lips. The sickness from before turns into a full blown nausea, and for a second you thought you were going to puke. Luckily, as fast as it came, the pain lessens into a faint ache. You could still feel it pulsing in your head. The thought brings worry into your gut.

“(Y/N)-noona, are you okay?”

You angle your head to peer at a concerned Jeongin and shake your head, “My head hurts…but I’m sure it’s just from lack of sleep”

You could only hope.

***

“Rock! Paper! Scissors!” At the queue, you manipulate your hand into what looks like a pair of scissors. A smile of victory invades your face when you see your opponent fashioning a paper.

“What the heck!? How are you so good at this, noona!?” Jeongin laughs at Jisung’s whine. The bengal sends the fox a dark glare, leaning forward to butt his head into his chest. Jeongin’s laughter only increases and thus, brings a sharp pout to Jisung’s face. “It’s not funny! She even beat Felix!”

“It’s just luck, Sung,” You chuckle, fixing his leftmost pointed ear when it folded inwards. “There’s no real skill to it.”

Jisung whines again, “But you’ve won every time! You have to have some strategy!”

You laugh, “I really don’t! Like I said, it’s luck!”

Frustrated by your lack of explanation, Jisung completely gives up playing with you and proceeds to play with the youngest member, who he equally loses as much to. Left by your lonesome, you take the chance to peer out the side of the jeep.

Since the sun came up a couple hours ago, you were finally able to see a lot farther than a few inches in front of your face. Minho had driven into this plains sort of area. It was still completely surrounded by forest, but it was a lot easier to navigate through. Although you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy since you were completely out in the open as well.

Anyone could be watching.

A chill slithers down your spine like snake.

What if someone was watching you?

Out of instinct, you peer along the moving treeline, hoping to catch sight of whatever was making your skin crawl. There was no possible way the lab security could have caught up to you guys this fast. Or maybe they were there amongst the trees, waiting to strike at the right moment…

“Woah! What is that!?” Felix, having switched seats with Changbin somewhere along the ride, grabs the headbar above his head and pulls himself to his feet. It’s the little unsteady due to the rocking of the jeep, but his hold on the bar stabilizes him enough. Hyunjin lifts an arm to warn the cat, but is quickly shoved away.

Chan does the same as his younger brother, but on the opposite side, “Check that out!”

You turn to look where the wolf is pointing, discovering something red approaching in the distance. If you had to guess, it was a patch of bright, pretty wildflowers. It reminded you of the garden your aunt so desperately kept up with. She always loved to garden.

Your eyes widen when you catch sight of a figure nestled amongst the flowers. You climb to your feet to get a better view, practically bending halfway out of the jeep. It could have been an animal, but you swear it had the shape of a person. Someone familiar.

“(Y/N)-noona, be careful. You’r-”

“-I’m fine, Hyunjin.” You reply rather sharply, annoyed at not being able to find out what that thing in the wildflowers was. With a huff, you lower back down onto your seat and cross your arms. You should have asked Minho to slow down.

“(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?” Felix asks. When you look up, you discover concern etched across the features of his face. “You’ve been acting strange ever since we left.”

You shrug, “I’m just tired… It’s probably just-”

“-Holy shit! Hang on to something!” The brakes release a painful screech as the vehicle hurls to a rocky stop, the inertia throwing everyone forward. You barely have the chance to reach up and grab the edge of the jeep to stop yourself from launching out of the car. Even so, your lower body wrenches out of your seat. Chan lurches forward to catch your legs and steady you while Minho brings the jeep to a complete stop.

“What the hell was that!?” Woojin rasps while helping Felix and Hyunjin to their feet. “Minho-?!”

“-There’s something blocking the path!” The coyote hops out of the driver’s seat. The younger hybrids follow him out of the vehicle, gathering around some sort of metal fence. With Chan’s assistance, you’re able to do so as well.

The fence was at least ten feet high, maybe more with how much it was towering over everyone’s heads. It was obviously old and abandoned, decorated by harsh years of copper rust. There was also torn black and yellow caution tape and stained ‘road closed’ signs along its exterior as well. It stretched on for as long as you could see to both the left and the right. Almost like a long silver ribbon fluttering into the forest.

“Well, there’s good news and bad news.” Minho turns to face the group with a sheepish grin stretched along his lips. “We’re close to the border, maybe another twelve hours. But we can’t continue unless we get around this fence.”

“Can’t we break it down?” Jeongin offers, his fox ears twitching at the appearance of a harsh breeze.

Woojin nods, “Good idea, Innie. With how old it is, Chan, Changbin and I can do it with our bare hands.”

“Just be careful not to cut yourselves.”

Your warning takes the bear by surprise, but he recovers quickly and nods, “Good thinking, (Y/N)-ah. We need to find a place where the fence has loosened from the dirt. Jisung, over by you-”

“-What the fuck, Seungmin-ah!?” The sudden yell takes you so much by surprise, you physically flinch at the curse. You turn to see Hyunjin stomping toward Seungmin, who was lowering his camera. The dalmatian snatches the polaroid from the beagle’s fingers and flings it toward the ground. Your anxiety increases tenfold when Seungmin lifts his own arms to shove Hyunjin. The latter doing the same.

“Hyunjin! Seungmin!” Chan and the others dash toward their quarreling brothers, immediately separating the two before any real damage could be done. You move to follow the group, but a similar ache from before enters your head. This time, its ten times worse.

The pain travels from your head to the rest of your body, almost as if your flesh was being poked with needles. Dizziness and blurriness overtake your eyes, and you’re barely able to witness Changbin step in between the two separated hybrids. You open your mouth to call out, but are hit with yet another pang that brings you to your knees. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the pain to cease.

Eventually, your prayers are answered and the level of hurt diminishes. You find the strength to test your luck and open your eyes. When you do, your panic embiggens before shifting to full terror.

The boys and the jeep were gone, along with the fence and even the surrounding trees. You were knelt on a tiled floor, hands bound behind your back and a gag inside your mouth. There were no walls, only pitch black void surroundings. When you scream, the sound echoes in your ears like a broken record. You were alone.

A movement out of the corner of your eye has your neck snapping to the right, only to find nothing but even more blackness. You scream again, biting at the cloth between your teeth. Another movement comes from the left, but when you turn, there’s still nothing there.

Something drops right in front of you, stealing a high-pitched wail from your lips. Your volume strengthens when you recognize the body of your own mother hung from the nonexistent ceiling by a pretty, pink scarf. Her lifeless, paled irises stare into your own. So pale, you could see your own terrified reflection.

Another inhumane yell sounds, but this time, it doesn’t come from you. You duck forward, dodging another corpse as it cascades from above. A head lands perfectly within your lap, body splayed out in front of you. You whimper at your aunt’s blank and cold expression, the bullet hole inside her brain almost acting as a third eye. Struggling against your restraints, you scoot away from two bodies as far as you can before your back knocks against something else.

A sudden hand emerges from the darkness and pins you to the ground. No matter how much you squirm, their strength outmatches yours. In their other hand, you watch breathlessly as they lead a small knife to your neck. The blade caressing the skin of your jugular.

“Please, no!” You gasp over your gag, shaking your head feverishly. “Don’t kill me!”

“Why not?” To your horror, the face that materializes from the void is one that mirrors your own. Except her eyes were full of malevolence. The giggle that stems from her -- your lips, erupts goosebumps across your skin. She moves forward to press the blade even firmer against your throat with an evil smirk:

“You’re as good as dead, anyway.”

“No!” With a final bout of strength, you tear through your restraints and claw at her face. A groan pulls past her lips as your fingernails slice across her cheek, blood splattering against the floor. Taking advantage of the moment of weakness, you thrust your feet into her stomach and knock her body off of yours. She hits the ground with a sharp cry, the knife flying past her fingertips.

You scramble for the weapon, ensnaring it between your own fingers. The doppelganger giggles again as you replace the blade across her own throat. She batters her eyelashes and nods, “That’s fucking right… Kill me…”

You gulp, your hand shaking against her skin. The temptation to slit her throat was so overpowering, but something inside you made you hold back.

Something wasn’t right.

“Show them who you are, killer!…” She screeches, her icy grip appearing around your wrist. She pulls the knife further against her neck, droplets of blood already welling beneath the metal. “C’mon, what are you fucking afraid of!?”

“This isn’t right…” You murmur to yourself, “You’re not real…”

“Do it!” Her scream pierces straight through your eardrums and echoes violently inside your mind. “Kill me! Slit my throat!”

“No!” You wrench away from the figmentation, allowing the knife to slip from your grasp. “You’re not real! None of this is real!”

“Coward!” She spits, crimson liquid spilling from her blue lips. “You’re a coward!”

You shake your head, close your eyes and whisper, “None of this is real…”

“(Y/N)-ah!”

When you open your eyes, the doppelganger is gone along with everything else from your nightmares. You were back in reality, still knelt on the grass. However, you quickly realize something was not the same as before.

Hyunjin and Seungmin were no longer trying to kill each other, and instead clinging to each other with fear etched across each of their faces. Same goes for Jisung, Felix and Jeongin. Woojin was staring at you with a blend of sympathy and concern while Changbin exhibited something closer to panic. Minho was just shocked, extremely shocked. And Chan…

Chan was holding a small gash at the edge of his throat.

“N-no…” You whimper, watching the blood spill from down his pale skin. When you look down, you see the knife from before balanced in your lap. “Ch-Chan…”

He shakes his head and holds an arm out, “(Y/N), it’s okay…”

“I almost killed you…”

Chan moves to catch you, but you were already collapsing to the ground. Blurred spots and white stars steal your consciousness, and the last thing you see before slipping into yet another world of darkness was a flash of yellow and a faint scream.

***

It takes you awhile to come to. You even have difficulty opening your eyes. Too afraid the setting your mind would see was not the one your eyes were supposed to. When you strike up the courage, you’re not at all surprised to see you were in a different location from before.

You were no longer outside, but in what seemed to be a quaint, cozy tent. A heavy quilt kept your figure nice and warm. More blankets beneath you to lessen the firmness of the earth on your back. Even so, your muscles still feel stiff as you sit up.

“(Y/N)...” You flinch at the sound of your name and turn to your right to see a certain wolf laid beside you. Your movement seemed to have woken him from a deep slumber as his eyes were still hooded and ears twitching groggily. He lifts a hand from beneath the blanket you two shared and trails it down your arm.

Although you really didn’t want to, you pull away from his touch.

His eyebrows furrow as he sits up. And thus, reveals the sight you were so deathly afraid to see: The deep gash along the base of his neck.

The wound you gave him.

“(Y/N)...” The gentle whisper of your name breaks your resolve and all you want to do is scream in absolute frustration. Unable to look at the injury, you bury your head within your palms and allow the shame and grief to overtake you. Never before have you cried so violently or so mournfully, not even after your mother died. Then again, you never really did allow yourself the time to grieve. Maybe that’s why this was the way it is.

You were crying for the loss of everything: Deaths, lies, mistakes. Everything.

When Chan tugs you into his embrace, you’re too weak and starved for comfort to deny him again. The thought worsens your guilt. Why were you allowed to be selfish when you nearly ended his life?

Still, the hybrid soothes you from the storm that is your mind. His fingers comb through your hair while the other hand catches tears as they cascade down your cheeks. He was speaking in your ear, but his words were incoherent beneath your gulps for air and pathetic whimpers. You don’t know even know how long you were there. Then again, you didn’t really care.

You run out of water to shed eventually, yet you continue to cry even without tears. You were pretty sure you had created as large as a river by then. Maybe then you could actually drown yourself within your own sadness. Not that you weren’t drowning right now.

The weight compressing your chest recedes after some time and your body relaxes as best it can. You were still trembling like a newborn foul, but at least you could breathe properly. Chan refuses to release you from his hold, not that you were complaining. Things may be different from those mornings in your apartment, but you could still spend an eternity just laying in his arms.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the drug?” For the first time, your brain actually recognizes the question that slips from the hybrid’s lips. Unfortunately, it also recognizes the betrayal and distress laced between each syllable. “You took it, didn’t you?”

“I had to.” You confess. Your hand slides into the space where Chan’s rests over the swell of your stomach. Like water to sand, your fingers weave together. And like all the other times where your hands fit so perfectly, you didn’t want to let go. “They were going to use it to cause a genocide… So many innocent humans and hybrids would die.”

“So what? So what if they died?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” His grip on your body tightens. You could feel the bruises that would later fashion in flowers of black and blue across your arms, but you didn’t care. In fact, you welcomed the pain. “Because now… you might die instead.”

“A bit overdue, if you ask me.” You chuckle, attempting to make light of the situation. Chan doesn’t react to your comment, only burrows his head further into the crevice where your shoulders meets your neck. The sigh that airs is hot against your chapped lips. Softly, you try again, “If anything like… what happened earlier happens again, I need you to promise that you’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and the boys.”

“No,” He shakes his head, “I won’t.”

“Yes. You will.”

“I won’t!” Chan growls, maneuvering so he was hovering over your body. One hand rested right beside your head while the other lowers to splay across your chest. Right over your beating heart, “This is going to beat as long as it possibly can. I don’t care what I have to do or give up to keep it that way.”

Your lips upturn sadly, “You know it’s inevitable. I’ll end up killing all of you-”

“-I don’t. Fucking. Believe it.” The hybrid hisses, “You didn’t kill me back there. You woke yourself up.”

“And yet, I still hurt you.” Your hand raises to caress at the scratch. “You have to be realistic. You have to look at this from the bigger picture.”

“Every picture I look at you from will be the same, (Y/N)...” Chan whispers, leaning into the palm cupping his cheek. He continues in an even softer tone, “When I saw the way you looked at me back in the lab when I told you the truth… I realized how stupid I was to ever think I could give you up...

“I tried to remind myself what you were, but you were just so… different… Nothing like the humans I always knew… And I just… wanted you… even though it was never supposed to be this way...”

“I love you, (Y/N)...” Chan’s confesses, “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

Emotionally struck by the words you’ve been longing to hear ever since you realized it yourself, your voice trembles when you speak, “If I die-”

“-You’re not going to fucking die.” Whatever words that were resting on the tip of your tongue dissolve when Chan takes both of your wrists and pins them down beside your head. At this angle, he looked so intimidating with his sharp gaze and wolf ears. The vulnerability of your body beneath his sends a pleasurable rush through your body, awakening the warmth of your core.

You gulp, “Ch-Chan…”

“If you think I’m going to allow anything to take you away from me… You’re wrong.” His hot breath caresses your cheek as he murmurs. You feel antsy from the sensations. He stills your squirms with a leg between your own. His knee resting just inches from where you want him most.

You hold your breath, unable to take in the moment fast enough.

“I know you always hated the idea of being my owner... but you own me, babygirl. You own my body, my heart and my soul.” He continues, leaning down to card his lips across the exposed skin of your chest. The contact makes you even more sensitive than before. You can’t help but push up against him, struggling against his hold on your wrists. His grip doesn’t budge.

You sigh in exasperation, “Chan-”

“-But you are my owner, (Y/N).” Your sanity flies out the window when you realize exactly how close the wolf is. There was barely any space between the tips of your noses, his body practically suffocating your own. However, you were only focused on one thing:

His eyes.

Unlike the kind brown you’re used to, his irises were a glowing amber filled with absolute hunger. Yet, deep inside the flecks of gold and caramel, you could see every other emotion bouncing throughout his head. The anxiety. The desperation. The love.

“And if you’re my owner, that means you belong to me too…” He whispers, bending down to rest his forehead against your own. You were so transfixed by his eyes, you couldn’t look away from his gaze. Not even when he releases one of your wrists to slide beneath the hem of your shirt, “You’re mine, (Y/N)... And I’m yours...”

Unable to take anymore, you utilize your free limb and yank the hybrid down to meet your lips. The kiss you two share is unlike any of the others you shared before. While the ministrations were carried out the same, there was so much more meaning and feeling beneath the passion. Your tongues dance: Once for dominance. Twice for eagerness. Three times for desire. You don’t think either of you would have pulled away if your lungs could produce air on their own.

A surprised yelp carries from your throat when Chan palms at your left breast which was already braless beneath your tank top. Fueled by arousal, you grow impatient with the lack of skin on skin and tug roughly at his own shirt. He chuckles at your restlessness, but sits up and removes the clothing nonetheless.

You’ve seen the hybrid shirtless many times, but you still could never get over how well built he was. Lifting your hand, you drag your fingers across his broad chest, down the valley between his pecs and over the lines of his prominent abs. A sound that was far from human rumbles from his throat as you follow the trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. At a closer look, you notice the obvious tent straining against the denim. You can’t help yourself and close your palm over the bulge.

Chan curses. His grip on your breast toughens, knee pushing up against your core. You keen at the contact, gasping as his bone stimulates your clitoris. Noticing your reaction, he does it again. This time, purposely dragging his knee over your slit. You release a high-pitched moan. Your hand squeezing over his clothed hardness.

Impatient himself, the hybrid removes your shirt and immediately latches his lips over your already hardened nipple. Whines cascade from your lips, your hand moving to tug at his blonde locks. He groans, laving and sucking at your sensitive bud before pulling away to provide its twin the same treatment.

“Chan!...” You lift your hips to grind against his leg, needing something to satiate the fire between your thighs. Your companion groans. He gently encloses his teeth over your nipple and leans backward to playfully tug at your flesh. Another whine is followed by another rock of your hips. You throw your head back with a wince, “Baby, please… I need more…”

Without hesitation, Chan hooks his fingers in the waistband of your jeans and drags them down your thighs with something close to frenzy. You shut your eyes for a second, only to be met with the sound of ripping fabric and a cool breeze on your core.

Chan tosses the scraps of your underwear to the side and inhales a sharp breath that shifts to a deep guttural growl, “Shit, you smell so good…”

His fingers swipe across your slit, just barely caressing your clit. You whine when he pulls away. The sound dying in your throat as he pops the two digits inside his mouth. Another inhuman purr erupts from the wolf, his eyes flashing an even darker orange. Licking his lips, he lowers his hand back down to your core and plunges two fingers inside your aching hole.

“Oh shit! Chan!”

“You’re so tight around my fingers… so tight and warm…” He purrs, nuzzling into your neck before sliding all the way down your body. The quilt is thrown out of the way so Chan can situate himself comfortably between your thighs. His silver ears twitch in anticipation, similar to the curling of your toes as he leans in toward your wet pussy. Almost testing the waters, he sticks his tongue out and licks a quick stripe over your clit. He groans at your taste, “Shit, you taste just like I thought you would… so perfect…”

You hold the sheets for dear life as the hybrid goes to town both thrusting his fingers in and out of your hole and tonguing lazily at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your gazes remained connected and you could actually see your own fucked out expression within the reflection of his irises. It made the knot forming in your stomach tighten even more.

At a certain angle, a high-pitched cry escapes your lips and your hips buck against Chan’s hold. He uses his other limb to pin your waist to the ground. As if he loves torturing you, he continues to move his fingers against that one spot that has you weak while his licks grow more intense.

“Fuck! I’m-I’m gonna cum, Chan!...” Your warning increases the hybrid’s speed. He goes so much faster that your vision goes blurry with hot tears and your lower regions become completely numb. You knew it was over when Chan took your clitoris between his lips and sucked. Hard.

Your orgasm hits like a landslide, shoving you over a cliff you’ve never, ever traveled over before. It rocks your body, and might as well have rocked your world too, because you have never climaxed so hard in your life. Even when you regain some sense of consciousness, your body still continued to tremble and shake.

When you open your eyes, you’re met with Chan’s worried gaze. He cups your cheek and asks frantically, “Babygirl, are you okay? Was I too much-?”

You shake your head, “-God, no! I’ve just… never came like that before…”

He smiles and leans down to press a long peck to your sweaty hairline. While the moment was meant to be sweet, you couldn’t help but notice his hardness pressed against your lower stomach. The thought awakens your core and kick starts your lust. You squirm until your sexes are aligned and buck against his clothed cock.

“(Y/N), b-baby, wait-“

You refuse Chan’s warnings and tug at his hair, “No more waiting. I need you inside me. Now.”

The hybrid’s eyes widen to saucers and his jaw drops, “Are… are you sure?”

“I trust you.” You reply, sending him the most sincere look you’ve ever contorted. “I-I…

“I love you, Chan.”

Your lover’s eyes glaze. Almost as if he would burst into tears. He bends down to seal your lips in another hard kiss, before pulling away to kick off his bottoms. His cock is the biggest you’ve ever seen. The idea of how much it’ll stretch excites you.

“This might hurt a little…” Chan murmurs while pumping his length.

You shake your head with a smile, “I can take a little pain…”

Chan slicks himself as much as he can with your arousal. You whimper when his tip comes in contact with your clit, grabbing at his shoulders for support. He wraps one arm around your waist to keep you in place. The other positions his member right at your entrance.

The first initial push is so painful, it sets your entire lower half on fire. Your whimpers blend with Chan’s growls as he remains still to allow you time to adjust. Your walls squeeze him like a vice, gradually accommodating to his thickness. Inch by inch, he sinks inside of you until his hips meet yours and he’s settled to the very hilt.

“Oh fuck, babygirl...” Your lover whines. His hands fumble for yours, pins them once again to the sides of your head and weaves your fingers together. He releases a mix between a whimper and a growl, rolling his hips gently against yours. “Oh my god, you feel so-so good…”

“Chan… move, please…”

“Shit, okay… Hold on to me, baby…”

You wrap your arms around his neck while your legs wind around his waist. He doesn’t waste any time and sets a steady, shallow pace that drives his cock deep inside your hole. A sheen of perspiration had already begun to form across your connected bodies. The fragrance, sounds and feel of sex already attacking at your senses. The pain from before ebbed away into a nice ache. It blends with the friction of Chan’s member and adds even more pleasure.

“I-I-shit… I will never let any-anything or anyone t-take you away from me…” Chan growls. His words seem to egg him on, his thrusts becoming more frantic and powerful. His nails dig into the flesh of your wrists, likely to leave future bruises. Not that you cared anyway. “Do you understand me, (Y/N)? You’re mine…”

Your silence doesn’t satisfy the hybrid. He releases one of your hands to entangle it within your hair and pulls until your eyes connect. Leaning closer, Chan speaks again, “Tell me you’re mine, babygirl… Please, I-I need to hear you say it…”

“I’m yours…”

He licks his lips, “Say my name, (Y/N), baby, please…”

“Chan! God, fuck, Chan!”

“My beautiful mate…” The wolf hums, his hand lowering to encompass the circumference of your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, only holds you in place as he leans down and sinks his canines into the side of your throat.

Your jaw goes slack. Your mind too far gone to delineate the difference between what is pleasurable pain and painful pleasure. In your fucked out state, you feel the upcoming tension of another orgasm and begin to buck your hips against Chan’s. Moans and pleas spewing from your lips like a mantra, “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please, Chan, I’m so close!.. oh, please!”

He detaches from your neck with a groan, “Shhh, babygirl… Need to see you cum again, yeah? You look so beautiful when you cum...”

His slurred words make you feel dizzy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to angle his thrusts to abuse the most sensitive spot inside of you. You drag your fingernails down his back, likely leaving a scratch or two, but the hybrid doesn’t mind. In fact, his hips seem to speed up.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m gonna cum too… Wh-where-?”

“-Inside!” You screech, locking your ankles at the small of his back. “Cum inside me!”

Your lover hides his whines by sucking at the marred skin of your neck and lowering his hand to roll at your clit, “G-gonna fill you so good, babygirl… I’ll have you leaking my seed for days…

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m gonna-”

“-Me too!” Your bodies move against each other desperately, yet fluidly, giving and taking as much pleasure as humanely (and hybridly) possible. Perched right on the edge of climax, you cup Chan’s cheek and tug him down into a finish line kiss. With a brush of his tongue over your bottom lip and one final thrust, you hurl into a sea of white light and neverending euphoria.

Chan follows you with a loud howl, clinging to your body as if you’ll disappear any second. Beneath your haze of pleasure, you feel his hot release paint your insides and warm you to the core. He places a hand over your lower stomach before collapsing against your immobille figure.

Carefully and gently, you coax Chan to sit up enough so you could see his face. Heavy gasps fell from his lips, attempting to regain lost air. You also notice how heavily he was shaking. Your whisper breaks the afterglow of silence, “You’re trembling…”

He shakes his head with a crooked smile, “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay…”

You caress the sweaty locks from his forehead and lean forward to place a long peck to the center. While one hand rubs at his back, the other scratches at his left, furry ear. A rumbling purr emerges from his chest as he lowers to lay against your chest.

“Chan?...”

He hums tiredly.

“I forgive you.”

No other words are said. And no other words need to be said. The two of you continue to bask in the heat of each other’s bodies long into the moonless night. Slumber never approaches, only loving touches and beating hearts call for contentment. And even when morning comes, neither of you move from your tight embrace until the sun is high in the sky and the foreboding calls of a harsh reality sound.

***

“Changbinnie-hyung, how much longer?”

Changbin sighs at the youngest fox’s repeated question, but answers nonetheless, “Soon, Jeongin. Two or three hours at most.”

“We’ve been driving all day. Shouldn’t we be there by now?” Hyunjin questions. You smile at the sight of Seungmin’s head leant against his shoulder, his ears as droopy as his eyelids. It didn’t take long for the two to make up after the quarrell, especially after Minho and Chan explained the bigger situation to everyone.

Minho, up in the driver’s seat again, answers this time, “You better shut your damn trap before I throw you out of this car.”

The dalmatian makes no move at pressing his luck. You can’t blame the kid.

“Someone’s a little cranky.” You murmur to yourself.

“You try driving with this chatterbox next to you for twelve plus hours.”

Shit. You forgot about his enhanced hearing.

“(Y/N)-ah, are you feeling better?” You turn to meet Woojin’s concerned gaze and attempt to ease his worry with a soft smile.

“Actually, I am. I think the drug is wearing off.”

Ever since you woke up with Chan, you haven’t had any issues involving headaches, agitation or even nausea. Even those weird flashes of yellow just stopped. You and Chan talked about it earlier, but you think it has something to do with your unique DNA. Although you’re human, the hybrid genes in your blood probably eliminated the drug from your symptoms along with any countering effects. You wish it worked faster, but you have to take what you can get.

Things might work out for the better after all.

“Look! It’s Miroh!” Your eyes snap up to where Jisung is pointing. Your heart both lurches and pulses at the view of the city, miles and miles away. Buildings were lit up like holiday lights in the pitch black of night; a memory of the zoo and your aunt pops into your head. You smile.

She would have loved to see that.

“What are we gonna do once we get to Yellow Wood, Channie-hyung?” Seungmin sits up from the dalmatian’s shoulder, only to wrap a tight arm around his chest and pull him into his side.

Chan shrugs, “Whatever we want. We can go anywhere, do anything.”

“Can we going swimming in the ocean? Like the history books talked about?” Jeongin pipes up. His words laced with childish and innocent hope.

The wolf chuckles, “Those sound like great ideas, Innie.”

“Where would we live, though?” The orange tabby calls from the front, earning a sharp glare from the coyote. Felix turns completely around to face Chan and tilts his head, “There’s probably no shelters in tact or any civilizations…”

“Why not a treehouse?” Your offer erupts the vehicle into chaos. The 00 line and Jeongin burst into discussions of possible layouts and materials to build the actual houses. Through your peripheral, you catch Chan staring at you with eyes of love and admiration. His gaze brings a heated blush across your cheeks.

“We’re definitely living in a treehouse! Like in that one old movie…”

Seungmin finishes for Hyunjin with an annoyed sigh, “Jumanji..?”

“Yeah!”

You giggle, “Sounds like a plan.”

Before anyone can extend any more suggestions regarding the plan of the treehouse, the vehicle jerks and swerves to the side. You stretch your arms outward to protect Jisung and Jeongin from being thrown out of the window. Minho slams on the brakes, coaxing the car to an unsteady stop. He mutters a curse before shaking his head, “Shit. We blew out a tire. We’re gonna have to go the rest of the way on foot.”

“We’re close though.” Chan adds while helping the younger hybrids out of the jeep. Woojin and Changbin proceed to empty the inside and hand everyone their respective bags and suitcases.

You help Jeongin slip his bag around his shoulders before grabbing your own, “Yeah. We’ll be there before you know it.”

You take up the lead with Chan, who grabs your hand, lifts it up and presses a peck to the back of your knuckles. You both are met with a chorus of disgusted groans and whistles which steal laughs and chuckles from your throats. Lugging his suitcase along, you follow Chan as he makes his way deeper into the forest. The rest of the boys not too far behind.

“We’re looking for some sort of lock for that key, right?”

Chan nods, “Yep. I hope it’s not too hard to find.”

“I just wish we knew what we were looking for.” You sigh while gazing longingly through the array of shadowy tree trunks. “I mean, it could be anything for all we know.”

“Hey. We’ll find it.” The wolf sends you a supportive smirk, “And maybe once we’re alone again, you’ll allow me a bite of my favorite snack…”

“You’re such a dork.” Your groan pulls a loud laugh from your lover’s throat. You can’t help but smile, “I love you.”

“I love you more, my mate.”

You shiver, “Still getting used to that.”

“Don’t act like it doesn’t turn you on.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You, Chan and the other boys move deeper through the forest until you emerge at yet another open field. Your eyes widen when you notice a looming structure just about a hundred feet or two up ahead. It was a stone wall, cracked with age and home to hundreds of patches of vines and moss. You’ve never seen something so tall in your life, even skyscrapers back in Miroh’s capital couldn’t compare.

“Holy shit. That’s the border, isn’t it?”

Minho’s call carries from behind your shoulder, “We did it! We fucking did it!”

“I can’t believe it.” Seungmin gasps. “It’s so tall.”

Felix shakes his head, “How do we get through it?”

“It looks like there’s some type of gate just up ahead.” You point to the iron barred gate hinged in the exact middle of the tall border. Like the rest of the wall, it looked completely abandoned and unguarded. Border patrol was never an issue, since there’s nothing beyond Miroh’s limits. At least, that’s what you originally thought.

“Good eye, (Y/N). Let’s head out-”

“-Wait!” Everyone freezes at the frantic yell of the bengal hybrid. You angle your head to peer at the boy, discovering his eyes to be blown wide and large ears rotating back and forth. Your skin crawls when the rest of the boys tense, and for once, you wish you had super senses like them.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Changbin growls, his head whirling up toward the sky. You follow, attempting to see whatever him and the other hybrids were startled by, but discover nothing but stars and a waxing crescent moon.

“What’s going on?”

“Helicopters.” Chan replies in a mellow tone, “We have to move now.”

“No way! If they see us, it’s game over!” Seungmin argues before gesturing back toward the trees, “We should hide until they go away.”

“I don’t understand how they found us in the first place. (Y/N)-noona, you don’t have a tracker, do you?”

You shake your head at Jisung’s inquiry, “Nope.”

“Guys…” Everyone turns to look at Jeongin. His ears were downcast and eyes wide with fright. He spins around and bends his neck to show the unnatural bump at the base of his neck. The size of a tiny tracker. “I didn’t realize I still had it until you guys mentioned it…”

“Fucking hell, Jeongin…” Minho groans while feverishly shaking his head. “Goddamn it, we’re screwed.”

“We have to make a break for it. It’s the only chance we have.” Chan urges, “Once we get outside the border, they won’t follow us.”

“We have to get there first.” Woojin quickly, with the help of Felix, slices at Jeongin’s neck and removes the metal device. He crushes it in his palm and throws the pieces into the grass, “I say we split up. One group goes left and the other goes-”

You interrupt, “-No. All of us should just go for the gate. Chan can get there first, open it and get us through before they get down here.”

“(Y/N)’s right. We just have to run.” Chan tosses his suitcase to the side. Everyone else follows his lead, eliminating any variables that could decrease your chances of success. You gather into a line with Jisung and Chan at your sides. You throw the bengal a determined look before turning to the awaiting gate.

Bright, intimidating searchlights illuminate your path, almost as if leading you to your doom. You will the negative thoughts to subside and instead focus on the good that will arise out of this. You and the boys will escape. You will be free. You will be happy.

It all comes down to this.

With your heart pulsing in your ears and the thoughts in your mind roaring, you barely hear Chan’s yell:

“Now! Go! Go!”

You take off at the signal, not too far behind Jeongin and Changbin. Jisung, Hyunjin and Felix take up the front and are first to enter the eyes of the lights. Alarms and screams sound within your ears, but you can’t tell if the screams are yours. Chan passes you and the other boys. Like lightning, he dashes straight toward the gate.

Too focused on the wolf, you fail to notice the rocks of the terrain and trip. You go flying and crash rather painfully onto the earth. Your hip screams in pain, the sound traveling past your lips. You almost panic. Key word: Almost.

Minho appears behind you and yanks you to your feet, “Goddamn it, (Y/N)-ah, c’mon! Run, run!”

The boys were already so far ahead of you, maybe seventy five percent of the way to the gate. Still unmoving, you take a peek at the helicopter situation and discover maybe three or fours birds hovering in the night sky. Silhouettes emerge from the open hatch of the closest one and slide down what seems to be a rope ladder. The closer you look, the more you realize how much you underestimated their speed. There had to be at least a dozen guards already on your tail. You check the front and spot Chan and Changbin struggling to force open the gate.

You’ll never make it.

“(Y/N)-ah, what the fuck are you doing!? Run, goddamn it! Run-!”

“-Minho, listen to me!” You take the coyote by the shoulders and shake your head, “I’m the one they want. You guys will be able to get out of here if I-”

Minho hisses, “-Don’t you fucking dare spew your bullshit hero complex right now, (Y/N)-ah. If we get out, we all get out-”

“-It’s not going to happen, Minho! Look around us! We’re surrounded!” You check the distance of the guards again, not happy to find them a lot closer than before. In a matter of minutes, they would reach you and the others hybrids. “Let me save you guys! One last time!”

“I already said it’s not fucking happening! If we go, you go!” With that, Minho grabs your wrist and forces you to move. Chan and Woojin were all working to help each one of the youngsters climb through a hole they were able to create near the top of the gate.

Changbin notices how far behind you and the coyote are and yells, “Minho-hyung! (Y/N)-ah, hurry!”

You both reach the gate faster than you would have thought, but it’s still not enough to separate enough distance between you and the approaching guards. Chan and Woojin help Changbin up and through the exit, followed by Minho.

Chan nods, “(Y/N), help me with Woojin.”

The two of you work together to lift Woojin up. His weight is painful on your already aching body, but you persevere through the pain. The bear manages to squeeze through the hole, and with the help of the hybrids on the either side, land safely. He gestures for you and Chan to come next.

“You first, Chan.”

He shakes his head with a sneer, “I’m not falling for this again, (Y/N). You’re going-”

“-There’s no time to argue! Just-”

A gunshot and Chan’s pained scream disrupt your demand. Your gaze falls to see a bullet wound right in the center of Chan’s calf and you’re quick to support him before he can fall. You shake your head and curse, “Fuck! You have to go now! Right now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Goddamn it, Chan! Guys, help me!”

“No! Get her up first!”

To your disappointment, the other boys follow their leader and through the bars, help Chan raise you so you can reach the hole and crawl through. You collapse to the grass with a loud thud before scrambling to your feet. Just in time, you see the guards fall upon the wolf.

“No! Stop!” You screech, fighting against Minho’s grip on your arms. “I’m the one you want!”

“(Y/N), don’t-“

You wrench from the coyote’s grip and launch up toward the way you came in. Your legs are grabbed before you can crawl back through, but you hold on for dear life. Turning to the closest guard, you scream, “I’ll go with you willingly, if you let him go!”

Chan growls, “No, (Y/N)-“

“-Take me instead!”

The guards all look at each other, seemingly having some sort of telepathic debate. You kick your legs away from the boys just in time for the head guard to nod.

They help you back on the other side before turning to help a screaming and struggling Chan. They manage to push him though and you watch him fall to the grass on the other side with tears of relief. A burden that has remained on your chest for so long finally lifts. And you see nothing but the nine hybrids standing on the other side of the border.

Finally free from Miroh.

Even when fingers close around your arms and yank you away from the gate, you don’t look away. Chan and Minho and all the other’s screams of your name go unheard against the blood rushing through your ears. You don’t even try to struggle, because what’s the point?

Your main objective is already done:

You found Stray Kids, and now they’re finally free.

It’s all over… right?...

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