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zuluc · 3 years

Text

it’s 4 am and i have class later 😔

he doesn’t work at the library but likes to sit there and bask in the peace from time to time. the rowdiness of the group he found himself accepted into was a nice change from his previous social life but even he needed a break. but you don’t know this. he’s just a mysterious fellow who peaks your interest.

sometimes you can catch him sitting near certain aisles nearby looking at books that were either, on purpose or not, on the top shelf or in a tall pile next to him. he jumps to get a few of them until the librarian came by to offer him a small ladder because, despite him being pretty quiet on his feet, she couldn’t ignore the rustle of clothes or view him moving about.

sometimes this woman comes in to ask him about something, her tall stature making him look smaller than he actually is but her presence is more inviting than intimidating with the proud look on her face. he smiles sometimes when they talk but she leaves him to his devices in the quiet sanctum.

one day he sits at the very edge of your table. you look around to see other empty ones to which he could have more space but he doesn’t seem to have made a mistake of choosing this spot. he makes quick work of laying out his books for the day, poetry and history this time though you don’t know exactly from who or when, and looks up to meet your gaze. you feel embarrassed to have been caught staring at him but he only gives you a kind smile in return.

the days go on like that.

—

but you don’t know him. not yet at least.

he doesn’t know you, but he’s seen you before. in between classes amidst the passionate faces of your friends as they engage in a seemingly heated debate about miniscule things, your own is clear cut. more mellow than those about but equally interested all the same. but you come to this place on your own most times to study or simply relax.

sometimes he finds you in some aisles going through extra textbooks or practice books for your subjects with a permanent look of annoyance on your features. your eyes scan for minutes on end for that one cover because who wants to pay for things only to be used once that you’ll forget about after exams? you certainly don’t. but then again, it would be too good to be true to find it in the library.

sometimes a friend comes in excitedly to talk to you. you indulge his, he knew the name of this certain twin-braid student, poorly whispered words before he’s dragged out by the quiet one you are also friendly with and they disappear to leave you at peace. he sees the fond look you gives after them and a shake of your head at his antics before continuing your quiet time.

one day he finds you sitting alone and a sudden urge to take the corner seat of your table calls to him. call it a sign or whatever his books tell him and he takes the opportunity. he can’t necessarily look at you right away so he hides his eagerness and sets out his books. when he gives and looks up he’s seeing your surprised face all he can do is smile.

—

you think he’s charming as he studies. he doesn’t wear any sort of glasses or anything but he does keep a pencil either rested on top of his ear or in his hand tapping against his lip as he concentrates.

but you try to stop yourself from staring. it’s rude and downright creepy and you don’t want to be dubbed as that type of person to a cute guy.

cute? yes, he was cute.

—

he thought the same about you. cute. that’s why he takes the leap and flicks a paper over to your side of the table, folded up as neatly as he could with words written inside.

Now a peaceful time

Quiet and stagnant are we

Finally to rest

you raise an eyebrow in response and mouth back, “a haiku?” he nods at your quick discerning and asks: “how is it?” with your given location and how neither of you are even going above a light whisper, you mirror his nod.

“fitting.”

and your interactions stay just like that for a while. you show up at the library at the same time and take a seat at the same table. sometimes he passes little papers to you with more haikus, usually capturing the feeling you both are kept in while in quiet. sometimes they’re for jokes to untense your shoulders after hours of reading.

this is how you get to know him but you want to return the favor. so you make some of your own and the look of surprise on his face when he receives a flicked paper is priceless. he’s happy about it, too.

now, you could say that you talk outside of the library and get to know each other there. but the mystery and comfort in doing as you do now is what you both stick with. and there isn’t a problem about it.

days turn into weeks and weeks into months until the bright sun and heat from the outside morphs into falling snow and chilly wind. you know each other enough to be just past acquaintances but not enough to be really called, friends? you weren’t sure.

but he still flicks a paper towards you and instinctively you open it.

This moment is safe

Peering eyes do so wander

There maybe a chance

it may be that you’re so used to his writing but the message in this one feels a little different than the others.

—

he can see your confusion and he stiffens. was it too obvious? this was supposed to be the build-up upon the countless messages he’s shown you and now he’s doubting himself.

getting to know you this way was fun and frankly very relaxing. quiet, limited talking, and basking in each other’s presence really solidified what he was feeling. truly. but he’s about to say “jk” until you smile. it’s a nice view.

so he basks in it.

—

was it something you did? or said? sorry, wrote?

he doesn’t flick anymore papers to you and it could be because finals are slowly approaching and the books on his side are less about shakespeare and more about the fundamentals of calculus. he hates math, you know this from the papers he.

you realize now that you’ve never sent him one first and now might be a good time to do so but how? sure you’ve sent him haikus but they were, per say, not very good. well, it did take you ten minutes to realize what exactly syllables were until you knew what it was the whole time but couldn’t remember what it was called.

so you just stay still and write nothing. for now, you think back on his last message.

—

two days. was two days enough to let you process that?

kazuha looks to the side from time to time to see what you’re doing as he fiddles with a paper he’s been meaning to send to you. you look up in feelings someone’s gaze on you, don’t know it’s really just a feeling, and catch him staring. an endearing flush comes about your face and he flicks the paper.

—

you open it and your heart drops. a feeling in your chest you weren’t aware of is crumbling apart.

“there’s this person i like and i was wondering if you think they’d like this”

underneath is another haiku.

Soft lights from outside

Gathering in your presence

A beautiful view

your response is you desperately hiding your feelings. and you nod with a soft smile. he untenses and closes his eyes, grinning.

damn it. you really like him.

—

the next day you leave at the same time which is weird. mostly because despite knowing each other for months on the exchange of paper, you never leave the library together. usually one of your friends comes to sweep you away and he stays an extra hour or two or vice versa. heck, you don’t even show up at the same hour. you just kind of find each other not knowing when the other arrived or if they had always been there.

now it’s awkward because you’re standing close to one another and can talk without the scolding of being loud, not that you ever were inside.

he heaves a sigh and digs into his pocket to pull out a pen and small paper. you give a look of confusion but allow him to finish. you really wanted to say something.

but the final note is here and with no table to slide it over to you he comes up with a last minute plan. reach over to you, he lightly flicks your forehead.

you jump and stare at him with wide eyes as he presents you with a neatly folded note in his hand for you to take.

unfolding it gingerly, you read:

Seeing you outside

A better view than before

Now it is all clear

it takes a while to put two and two together but he does it for you.

“so you never answered my question a few days ago,” his voice is calm and smooth, “did you like that haiku?”

#late night thoughts #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcannons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact kazuha #genshin impact kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #idk how to write poems #idk how to write

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junicai · 3 years

Text

too far.

| order no. | 3/21

| summary | With heightened tension reaching a peak, arguments are inevitable. Aria catches the short end of the stick.

| word count | 1.8k

| warnings | cursing (a lot of cursing, please be mindful)

| era | circa. 2016

a/n: mark + aria are still friends! when you're with someone nearly every day, in high stress environments and you're both teenagers - stuff like this just happens, so pls do not think that they hate each other, they don't!

The air felt sticky.

It clung to her skin as she collapsed against the wall, fanning herself.

The other members were in similar states; sweat-soaked t-shirts clinging to their lean bodies, some sitting against the mirrors, or, in Donghyuck’s case, sprawled across the floor.

The choreographer had left three hours prior; coat thrown over his shoulder and bag fisted in his hand. The room had gone silent after he’d left, only broken by Taeyong’s sharp clap and a short yell to get them all into motion again.

It had been a long day, so they’d made more mistakes than usual. It wasn’t one single person; Donghyuck had stumbled over his own feet, Taeil had nearly come a cropper and face planted into the mirrors, even Yuta wasn’t dancing up to scratch.

But, for some reason, Aria felt like all the jabs were being sent her way.

“Aria! Watch that foot!”

“Your left, Aria! Your left!”

“One, two! And a- fuck, Aria! Please, would you at least try!?”

After nearly two hours of this from the choreographer, Aria was fit to scream. She was trying. It was a new routine, miles more difficult than anything they’d ever done before, and it was only their third practice.

She hadn’t slept, and hadn’t eaten yet, it was seven in the evening, and she wanted to go home.

When the tears began pooling in her eyes from sheer exhaustion - both physical and emotional - they were expected, but no less appreciated.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking me - Aria! Are you going to sit there and cry your way out of this? Really? You’re that lazy? You don’t care, do you? No, no you don’t. If you want to cry, you can get out. Go, get out.” The choreographer stood by the music, one finger on the pause button holding it down.

His face was stony. “Oh? No?”

Aria frantically wiped at her eyes, bowing and spewing apologies. “No, no sir. I do care, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m calling it today. Have this for tomorrow, alright?” He sent a glare around the room of boys who wouldn’t meet his eyes. They nodded, and he exhaled, giving Aria one more glance over before marching out the door.

The silence was stifling. It filled up Aria’s mouth with cotton balls.

Taeyong sighed. “Let’s run it again, shall we?”

The first half of the song ran smoothly. It was easy counts, nothing that Aria’d never done already, so she flew through it. Jaehyun stumbled midway, and he got a sharp look from Yuta, who he bumped into in an attempt to right himself, but no words were exchanged and the song didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until the bridge section that things started to go wrong.

Sicheng was in the wrong place; Taeil brushed past him just in time to correct the formations.

Donghyuck’s foot slid out from underneath him; he nearly kissed the floor had it not been for Mark’s hand snagging the back of his jumper and holding him up for long enough to regain his footing.

Aria skidded out of a turn, shoes not gripping the spring flooring and sending her a metre out of her way, and right onto her back where she lay sprawled out, the air knocked from her chest.

The music cut out, and a hand was extended to help her up. She held up her own, and she was roughly tugged up from the ground, a cough leaving her chest at the treatment.

Mark only blinked at her, turning away to get back into formation.

Aria looked at the faces of the other members, confused, but only Yuta would meet her eyes, and he shrugged. “Tired?” He mouthed to her, and she could only nod in presumption.

The song was played again from the beginning, and things started to go wrong from the very get go.

Aria had slipped off her shoes, convinced that maybe the grip was gone from the soles, and she’d dance better in her socked feet. Her theory proved true for the first half minute, but when Sicheng went careening into her side, she was sent crashing into Mark’s back.

The trio of tangled limbs ended up on the floor in a heap.

Sicheng extracted himself from the pile first, having been on the top, and he extended both his hands to Mark and Aria respectively to help them off the floor as well.

Aria took the hand with a mumbled thanks, while Mark chose to ignore it and pushed himself roughly up from the ground.

“Watch where you’re going, Aria.” He clipped her shoulder with his.

Aria stumbled backwards slightly. “O-oh, sorry.”

He sniffed at her, moving back to stand in his position. The song played again, and the pounding of feet against the floor knocked out any thoughts from Aria’s mind.

That was, until her socks slid on the floor, and she crashed down again.

“Aria!” A yell came from the other end of the pyramid shape the team had made. “For fucks sake can you not try for one second?”

“Mark!” Taeyong’s rebuttal was taken aback, the leader staring at the boy with widened eyes.

“No no, don’t Mark, me.” Mark began, marching over to where Aria was still sitting on the floor. “If she’s not going to put a single ounce of effort into this practice, why the fuck is she here?”

Donghyuck started towards the older boy. “Hyung, what-”

He was held back by Johnny holding his elbow. “Mark! Knock it off.”

Mark whirled around. “No! I’m tired, you’re tired, everyone here is tired, but we’re still running the same routine because someone here can’t stand on their own fucking two feet for half a second.”

“Mark what did I do to you!?” Aria spoke up, brushing the non-existent dust from her leggings. “I fell - you fell earlier on and no one blew up on you.”

“Yeah well at least some of us care enough to not try to dance in socks? Socks, really Aria. I know you’re still a child but jesus, have a bit of responsibility for one in your life, huh?”

“The fuck does that mean?” Aria was yelling now.

Taeyong and Jaehyun took a sharp intake of breath. Aria only swore when she was pissed and given how her face had reddened dramatically and the cruel glint that her eyes had undertaken, they were both nearly convinced that if Mark was to swing, she’d snap his arm in half.

“Woah, woah. Mark, take a walk.” Yuta snapped, moving to stand in between the two younger members. Aria’s hands had started trembling, but her face was cold.

“Maybe Aria here should take a walk. Go find the door and leave. Isn’t that what our choreographer told you to do? Get out? I think you should listen to him.”

“You have no fucking right saying that shit to me,” Aria snarled.

Mark laughed, a cruel, cold sound. “Oh really? Did I hit a nerve, princess? The princess of NCT, such a shame she can’t dance to save a life. Should we put out a stool for you, so you can sit and look pretty for us?”

“Hey!” Taeyong yelled, pulling Mark away. “Cool it. Yuta’s right, take a walk.” He pushed the younger boy towards the door, but Mark just walked right back to Aria.

“You know, if you’re not going to fucking care, then you can get out.”

Donghyuck appeared behind Mark, tugging at his hand. “Hyung, seriously.”

“No I’m serious!” Mark whirled around to face the other members. They were quiet - normally when arguments broke out, it was best to leave them run their course. Interference usually ended up with a bloody nose; but Aria had never been the centre of one before.

“Fucking mistake, putting a girl in a boy group.” He spit.

Aria scoffed, a disbelieving smile on her face. Yuta stepped back slightly.

Aria wasn’t scary; she was small and cute and lovely, everything that made it impossible to be even slightly intimidating. But, now, with a sharp up-tweak on the corner of her lips, Aria looked murderous.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. All Star, is having a woman in the group affecting your precious masculinity? That a woman can out dance you, can out sing you?” She spat, hands balling by her sides.

It was Mark’s turn to scoff, rolling his eyes. “Please, Aria, you’re not a woman. You’re barely a child.”

“You’re one year older than me, asshole.”

Taeyong moved towards the pair. “Guys, take a walk. I don’t want to hear it right now.”

He went ignored.

“And yet,” Mark sniggered. “I don’t look like a pubescent teen. At least people can tell how old I am.”

Aria’s mouth snapped shut. Taeyong hissed Mark’s name, physically yanking the boy away from her. A stagnant pause bubbled up in the room, taking the place of the heated yelling.

“Oh you fucking dick, Mark Lee.” Aria strode towards him, pushing at his chest.

Mark spun, anger clouding his vision, swinging his arm and clipping her across the neck. Aria went sprawling, hand coming behind her to catch her fall.

When her weight landed on her wrist, it twisted beneath her, and she let out a gasp. Yuta was beside her in an instant, as was Donghyuck.

Taeyong now had a firm grip on the back of Mark’s neck, and Jaehyun was holding his wrists tight in a fist.

Taeil took one look at the darkening red around Aria’s wrist, and left the room, presumably to grab an ice-pack. Sprains were a common injury - he hoped it wasn’t something more serious.

Despite the tears now pooling in Aria’s eyes, her mouth was filled with fire as she fixed her heavy gaze on Mark - who’s own eyes were slowly clearing from the fog of anger, and a guilt-ridden line was taking its place.

“Get your head out of your own ass, Mark. You're not a saint, stop acting like one.”

The door swung shut behind her; a wet sniffle breaking into a choked sob before being cut off.

Mark slid to the ground, back against the wall, hands in his hair.

When the tears fell, no one made a sound.

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that-bi-bitch-writes · 3 years

Text

A Cursed Reality- JJk x Male Reader (Ch.5)

This chapter is a little longer than usual and very dialogue heavy. (also plenty of swearing). Sorry if the scene is disappointing but I'm not super good at fight scenes and I'm hoping to develop them as I go on. Also if I made [Name] OP then everything would be over too quickly.

Let me know what you think about the chapter in the comments (or the tags!!) enjoy

Last || Next

Chapter Five:

“Kugisaki-chan. Be honest with me. On a scale of Gojo to Yuji how stupid do you think I am?”

“Eh? Do you really want me to answer that?”

“... Yes”

“If I had to pick an idiot I’d say Gojo-sensei. He at least has the brain power to understand jujutsu. I mean he’s a childish and immature old man who ignores what’s staring him right in his face but he wouldn’t ask me what animal the pink panther was.”

[Name] uttered out a confused thank you before thinking ‘I have got to stop starting conversations like this’

He almost never gets the answer he wants. It’s like as soon as he asks the question he becomes humanized and not a mysterious special grade sorcerer a few seconds from ending someone’s life for finishing off the fruit snacks. (Based on a true story. Gojo can confirm.)

“You’re welcome. Why’d you ask anyway?”

“Actually I think I’ll jinx it if I talk about it. Plus I don’t want you to think poorly of your ‘superiors’ but let’s just say there are people plotting behind my back and I’m wondering if I have idiot written across the top of my head”

“Okay... “

“On a lighter note, do you think any of the other first years know how close we are?”

“I was asked whether or not the Pink Panther was a lion and spoken to in 6 word sentences just yesterday. You’re the only person I can hang out with. The other two are people I spend time with”

“What about Maki?”

“That’s totally different. You should know you have a totally different relationship with Gojo and Inumaki.”

“Explain”

“You and Gojo fight and tease each other like siblings or something and you and Inumaki spend time alone. Together. And sometimes you like go out and eat food and stuff”

“You make it sound like we’re dating”

“You’re not?”

“No”

“Hmm”

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

[Name] absolutely hates talking on the phone and everyone knows this. Facetime has been like a happy medium whenever people need to get in touch with him but it’s still extremely annoying to have to have a face to face conversation over the phone.

“Why are you calling me Gojo?”

“My precious little [Name] I was just checking up on you to see how your day off is going?”

“It was going fine until you called and interrupted my peace”

“Don’t be like that [Name] I know you miss me”

“As if- No puppy- WAIT!”

Gojo furrowed his eyebrows “[Name]-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Since when do you have a pet?”

“I made Fushiguro give me one of his divine dogs”

“Aww. That’s so sweet of Megumi. But you can’t keep calling him puppy. Give him a real name”

“He does have a real name I call him yu-yu”

“So who were you calling Puppy?”

“...Yuji”

“.....”

“Don’t make it weird”

“It’s already weird”

“Look me in the camera and tell me he doesn’t remind you of like a golden retriever or somethin”

“You made several points but still”

“It’s supposed to be derogatory”

“It’s a pet name”

“He’s hyper, adorable and excitable. I’m pointing out the obvious. Me calling him puppy has the same energy as calling someone four eyes”

“It does not”

“....I have to go Yuji just found out about Megan Thee Stallion”

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

“Are you a Fall out boy emo or like Lorde sad boy?”

“That’s a loaded question”

“It most definitely is” [Name] replied holding back laughter “But I can like, vibe to either one so just play whatever music you like and I’ll enhance the atmosphere.”

“...Okay”

That day was definitely the most relaxed Fushiguro had been in weeks, and [Name] learned some very interesting things about Fushiguro’s…. tastes. They definitely had some things in common.

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

“You’re sending me on a mission”

“Yes”

“Alone?”

“[L.Name] you’re a special grade sorcerer. You can handle a first-grade curse on your own”

“I most definitely can, but so can others. Both Gojo and Okkotsu are away on missions. Are you telling me in your expert wisdom, you’re making the choice to dispatch all of the Special Grade sorcerer’s for first-grade curses? What if something happens on home turf.”

“I assure you if there’s an attack on the school Principal Yaga can handle the threat.”

“I’m not talking about the school.”

There was a brief silence in which [Name] just stared “You have your orders”

“I do”

And [Name] absolutely did have his orders. Ones that aligned with his personal feelings. You see, a little while ago Gojo ordered [Name] to protect Yuji. And if anything were to happen to the precious angel, it would be the one day that both he and Gojo were away. Yaga cares more for the rules than Gojo or [Name]. That was one thing [Name] didn’t like about both Yaga and Nanami. They cared about the kids, but only to an extent. In their eyes the kids would die out or grow older but rules wouldn’t change, and Yuji’s life mattered less to them than the stagnant outdated rules.

The larger problem was whether or not [Name] was willing to face the consequences for not following orders from the “respected” higher ups. Then there was the whole issue of actual people being in danger and that wouldn’t go over well, not with the old assholes nor with [Name]’s conscience.

‘I fucking hate Satoru.’ [Name] thought as he set out to do actual work. Ever since he got sent on that mission he found himself caring for more and more people. If he was going to exorcise the curse and return to make sure Yuji and the others first years were all safe, he would have to race against the clock. There was no doubt in his mind that something was going to happen today and he knew Sukuna wouldn’t let Yuji die without a fight.

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

“What the actual fuck is going on anymore?? THREE FIRST YEARS WERE SENT TO DEFEAT A WHAT?” [Name] yelled into the phone

“A cursed womb”

“Say it as it really is Ijichi! They were sent in to fight a fucking special grade curse. They’re barely equipped to fight a second grade curse, and it isn’t as if having you there is going to help them much”

Ijichi flinched at that. [Name] only went for low blows when he was pissed, and it was obvious pretty soon someone would have to face his wrath. And because he knew what was best for his safety and peace of mind, Ijichi answered [Name]’s question before he asked

“I warned them not to engage a special grade so they should be fine until you get here. I lowered the curtain myself so you’ll be able to get in. They’re at Eishu Juvenile Detention Center”

“I’ll be there in 10”

[Name] would probably make it in less time than that but he always made sure to be careful with making promises. There was always a chance he would run into some issues on the way there. Grabbing his things, he set out for the detention center hoping Nobara and Megumi were okay. Yuji was stronger than those two, though Megumi could be a suicidal idiot at times. If things got anymore serious they’d let Sukuna out, but that would be a whole other problem.

“Ijichi, i’m here”

“...[Name]”

“What?”

“Kugisaki is hurt. I'm driving back to the school.”

“If you’re driving back, why is the curtain still up?”

“Fushiguro went back in to deal with Sukuna who’s more than likely already taken care of the curse I recommend-”

[Name] hung up. “Fucking rule followers and their precious higher ups. And look what a mess I have to take care of” he said as he looked up at the curtain. He sighed and then walked through

“I don’t feel a curse- is that megumi” [Name] thought aloud

“He ain’t coming back” Sukuna teased “Don’t worry I’m in a good mood. Let’s talk”

“I’m not feeling particularly chatty” [Name] called out. Fushiguro and Sukuna turned to the second year in shock

“Fushiguro you should go”

“No. I’m not leaving you alone. And besides it’s my responsibility-”

“Do you think I’m here to kill Yuji?”

“...”

“I’m here to rescue your sorry asses. I was sent on a mission earlier and came back in a hurry to make sure you were okay. I’m a little sad I don’t get to meet the curse that hurt poor Kugisaki-chan but he’ll make do” [Name]’s voice became darker the longer he went on

“My fighting skill is nowhere near the level of Maki’s, but my cursed technique on the other hand… Don’t worry, Yuji’ll make it out alive”

Fushiguro hesitated. He trusted [Name], it was Sukuna who was the problem. The curse was cunning and took advantage of Fushiguro’s hesitation to enact his plan

“It seems he’s having a hard time changing back” Sukuna started “This must be a side effect of using me without restrictions. It’s most likely only a matter of time though… So i’ve been thinking about my next move.”

Before [Name] or Fushiguro could realize, Sukuna had ripped Yuji’s heart out, smiling as blood dripped out of his mouth and the gaping hole in his chest. The two of them froze. If he were at his best [Name] would’ve been able to stop Sukuna from continuing to monologue or even from swallowing another of his fingers. But he had defeated a first grade curse, dealt with the higher ups and rushed to the first years’ rescue within 3 hours.

Fushiguro seemed to follow the conversation as [Name] just stood there, his ears ringing as if he were standing too close to a bomb that went off.

“Itadori will return” Megumi said confidently “Even if it means his death. He’s that kind of guy”

And Megumi was right, [Name] knew of it. So he made a sacrifice. Fushiguro would have to deal with Sukuna while [Name] figured out what to do next. With two fingers Sukuna might’ve been able to resist [Name]’s compulsion. ‘No’ he thought ‘it would take a few more fingers before he was that strong.’

“Stop”

The both of them froze in place. There was a trail of blood running down Yuji’s chest but [Name] could tell Sukuna had done more damage to Megumi than Megumi had done to Yuji’s body

“Stay out of my way Megumi” [Name] said before looking in Sukuna’s eyes “Yuji, if you can hear me. I’m sorry”

“This brat’s not worth the effort” Sukuna smirked. He may not have been able to move but he was going to try and tempt the second year into losing his composure.

“Choke”

Sukuna began to gargle on the blood that was supposed to be pumping through Yuji’s body. Choking, he fell on the ground. Megumi’s eyes widened and he moved to say something but [Name] shot him a desperate, angry look picking up Yuji’s discarded heart shoving it into the empty cavity.

“Heal Him”

“It’s too late [Name]”

“Yuji?? No! NO! YUJI! SWITCH BACK I CAN MAKE HIM HEAL YOU”

“Megumi. [Name]. And Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei. Well I guess I don’t have to worry about him. Live a long life okay?” Yuji smiled as tears dripped onto his face

“I Heard A Rumor” [Name] whispered “That nothing happened and you were gonna be okay”

“What a nice rumor senpai” “Yuji whispered back before the light in his eyes faded

Fushiguro laid a hand on [Name]’s shoulder looking up to the sky as he tried to keep from crying. [Name] let out a pained scream shocking Fushiguro. Megumi wrapped his arms around [Name] trying to pull him up and meeting resistance Fushiguro just walked toward the exit before stopping. Without looking back he said “I’ll send Gojo to collect you both” and then walked off.

Gojo did come back to pick up the body and the shell shocked [Name] but when he showed up there was nothing there. As if the land behind the two had just up and walked away. Gojo wasn’t informed of [Name]’s rumor but assumed the boy did it out of rage. He was the only one able to wipe a location off the map so cleanly. What he didn’t realize that if the land had returned to its natural state as if nothing had ever happened, Yuji was bound to be okay

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x m!reader #x male reader #x reader #male reader #male reader insert #x m!reader #xmr

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robinsarm · 3 years

Text

Just a Little Anxiety Before you Leave

I’ve unfortunately allowed one of my in game habits to fester and it’s now become a short, one off fic for the Zarina x Deathslinger ship. Enjoy :)

(Word count: ~2400)

(Some mature topics included)

There were times Zarina could get along with the killer she’d arrived with, The Deathslinger. He may have been very rough around the edges and you needed a pickaxe to break through his cold and unforgiving demeanor. But, Zarina had done that on many occasions before. However, right now, Slinger was getting on the girl’s nerves.

She’d been left on the dusty ground of Dead Dawg Saloon for the fifth time now. It wasn’t anyone’s outright fault, the killer just didn’t seem to want to hook her past the first time a few minutes into the trial. She’d had the foresight to bring a loadout that countered such strategies, but it only worked as long as her teammates were feeling altruistic.

They weren’t...not this trial at least.

Yui was busy keeping Slinger’s attention, Nancy was making sure not a totem was left in the small town, and Quentin...well, Quentin had fallen asleep. The killer got tired of hearing those unrelenting crows circle over the boy, so he’d been killed off quickly.

As Yui was placed onto her second hook of the trial, Nancy finally made it to Zarina who’d been crawling towards her the entire time.

“Sorry,” Nancy tried to apologize, but Zarina didn’t stay to hear her out. She turned on her heels and sprinted towards the old saloon. There was a chest out back she wanted to search and, hopefully, get a med kit. However, before she could even pass the killer shack, Nancy screamed, having been speared by the relentless bounty hunter.

Zarina let her head fall back in defeat; why did it always seem like she had to babysit the entire trial? Rolling her eyes, Zarina took a right instead of her intended left and quickly hobbled back towards the water tower. Yui was hooked right behind the dilapidated buildings lining a majority of the town. By the time Zarina got there, the poor girl looked like she’d been beaten to an inch of her life.

“I got you-”

“Don’t!” Yui interrupted her, shocking Zarina into stepping back.

“What? Why?” Zarina asked quickly and instinctively looked down at her feet.

“Nancy’s on death hook,” Yui said with a struggle, right as their last teammate was stabbed to the ground. “One of us is going to make it out. Just take it,” she added, referring to the hatch.

“Why don’t you take it? You can run him better than I can,” Zarina protested, raising her arms to either side of Yui’s torso.

Yui shook her head, her fight with the Entity swiftly coming to a close. “I’m done with this trial.” Her grip on the Entity’s claws began to slip. In a panic, Yui shouted, “There’s a med kit in the basement,” before the Entity plunged it’s finger-like claws into her body and hoisted her into the sky.

Zarina couldn’t stand watching that part of the sacrifice. She’d seen it plenty but it still didn’t get any easier. She wiped Yui’s blood from her face and neck before beginning the search for healing anew. Nancy was hooked not five seconds later; now Zarina was in a rush.

Thankfully, the killer didn’t immediately come for her, so Zarina made it to the basement before ever catching sight of the cowboy. Yui was correct, in the chest was a completely unused Emergency med kit. For a moment, Zarina wondered if Quentin had searched the chest but left the kit for someone else. Like the thousands of times before, Zarina unpacked the kit and used it effortlessly on herself until there wasn’t a wound left bothering her.

Leaving the med kit behind, Zarina bolted from the basement, knowing her time was limited. Find the hatch, that was her only objective at this point. As she left the basement, a feint but noticeable ringing buzzed in her eardrums. She knew what that noise was and already knew it was too late.

In less than a second, the killer shot his gun sending the precisely aimed spear directly into her right side. Not only was she primed to lose another health state, but she quickly realized she was about to lose them both. That spear hit sent a wave of nausea through her system, her skin erupted with goosebumps and she gained the overwhelming thought that she was going to die.

She was exposed.

Zarina yanked on the spear, trying to pull it loose, meanwhile glaring at the killer. “You brought the coin, you fuck!” she screamed at him as he pulled her closer.

“You’re only figurin’ this now?” he yelled back, then laughed as he slashed her to the floor.

Going from fully healthy to dying on the ground was something Zarina hated worse than anything. That action usually broke bones or tore major arteries. It hurt worse than anything Zarina had ever experienced, so she avoided it no matter the cost. But now, she was back on the ground - back to where she started. Now, she was bordering on hating this man.

“Can’t you just-” Zarina paused to spit out a glob of blood out from the back of her throat- “kill me?”

The Deathslinger chuckled whilst reloading his weapon. “Now why would I do that?”

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Zarina hissed as he got closer.

“Oh,” Slinger cooed. “Big words coming from the person who takes them literally.” The killer had dropped low, practically down to Zarina’s level to give her that comeback. He was so close she could feel him breathing on her neck. She knew what he was doing. He’d toyed with her before. She wasn’t going to give him any sort of satisfaction this time, however. She remained stone-faced, staring straight out into the small, desert town, all the while trying to ignore him and the heat flushing her cheeks.

Slinger laughed again when she didn’t responded then resumed his position, towering over her. “Quit bein’ so stoic. You’re missin’ your escape.”

“My escape?” Zarina questioned in her head then gave the killer a narrow stare.

Slinger was still smiling, but he was shifting his gaze between her and something off down the road. Zarina considered the circumstance then pulled herself forward into the dusty road. Turning her head was all she needed to do to see it - the hatch. Down towards the center of town, the metal square seeping black fog mocked her from its impossibly far distance. She gave Slinger another look, this time with more spite behind it.

“Well go on then,” he joked. “I haven’t been pickin’ you up, have I?” With that, the killer walked a few paces in front of her, then turned around and waited for her.

Zarina wanted to scream, maybe even throw a fit and call him a few choice words that would really get her killed. Instead, she lamented, took a long painful breath, and began the crawl.

Right off the bat, the gravel scraping her ribcage and stabbing into her open wounds was enough to make her want to quit. Mixing that with Deathslinger’s added nervous ticks as he waited “patiently” only made her more irritated. The man wouldn’t know how to keep still if his life was on the line. He paced, he tapped his good foot, he inspected his gun and even began cleaning it in a few spots. It was the comments that slowly picked at Zarina.

“Damn your slow for a young one,” or “I think my mum, 6 feet under, might beat ya to it.”

The only thing that kept her going was the fact that she’d brought Tenacity. The distance between her and Slinger and the hatch were all closing fast. If she had to endure this harassing torture at normal crawling speeds, Zarina would have just given up.

As Zarina passed the stagnant killer, she let herself wonder if he was actually letting her go. But, like the godly timing this killer always seemed to have, Slinger smothered that thought as she heard the spurs of his boots clinking towards her. She stopped just as Slinger stepped over her, now standing with a boot on either side of her ribcage.

“What?” she grumbled as she tried to look back up at him.

“You’re goin’ a bit faster than usual. Remind me what you’re runnin,” Slinger asked with a tone in his voice Zarina didn’t like. He was tormenting her and now she was wishing she hadn’t used her Unbreakable earlier in the trial.

“Tenacity,” she answered begrudgingly.

“Ah, that’s right. How ‘bout we slow ’r down a bit,” Slinger insisted more than asked.

Zarina almost immediately ignored him and continued crawling; it was an action she instantly regretted when Slinger prodded his spurs into her sides. She yelped and tried rolling away only to be stopped by Slinger’s other leg.

“Slow it down,” Slinger repeated more firmly this time, then resumed his normal stance.

The list of things Zarina wanted to call Slinger at this point had reached an extended scrolls length. She was so fed up and just wanted to go back to the campfire. She could rant and rave there about how annoying he and this entire trial had been. Most likely she was just going to sleep her anger away like she always did. Sleep sounded intoxicating at that moment, so Zarina focused on that.

The survivor made a conscious effort not to move too quickly. She’d start a crawl then stop, making sure no part of her was about to run into the knives that were Slinger’s spurs. As she crawled, Slinger stepped up with her, slow and steady. That’s how they moved for what felt like minutes. She crawls an inch, he steps forward, she crawls a few more inches, he steps forward again. Zarina hated it.

Eventually, Zarina ignored the killer entirely and focused on only two things: the rhythm and the heavenly whistle of the hatch not 10 meters away from her. She counted the meters the best she could. 9...8...7. With each passing moment, Zarina’s heart pounded harder and harder with excitement, with hope. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, making her shaky. Once she was close enough, Zarina forgot all about the killer above her and resumed crawling at her faster pace.

Another mistake she was quickly corrected on.

“Now what did I tell ya!” Slinger reprimanded as he reached down and grabbed her shirt.

“No! Wait,” Zarina screamed.

She was so close. If she reached out she’d be able to touch the edge of the metal escape. Just one more second and she’d be gone.

“You messed up Kassir. Shoulda listened,” the killer taunted as he slugged her effortlessly onto his shoulder.

Tears welled in Zarina’s eyes. Another death. After all that torment, she’d let herself believe that he was going to let her have it. She felt embarrassed and humiliated. For once, she let herself cry. Instead of wiggling at a chance for freedom, she gripped onto the back of his coat and held on for dear life.

“Caleb, please,” she begged with a shaky voice. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry.”

The killer stopped in his tracks and gripped onto Zarina’s shirt tighter. “I ain’t fallin’ for your crocodile tears-”

“I’m not faking!” She screamed as more tears leapt from her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Slinger lamented softly. He was hearing the emotion in her voice now. Setting his weapon against the shack wall, Slinger used both hands to gently slide the survivor off his shoulder. Zarina didn’t get far before she latched onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and hugging his throat like she’d fall off if she didn’t.

“Love, I was only playin’,” Slinger said, trying his best to calm the girl that was glued to his torso. “I was gonna give ya’ the damn hatch.”

Zarina didn’t try to make any additional comments. She was currently focused on keeping herself quiet. She may have felt like an absolute hot mess but she didn’t want to irritate the man any further with her sniffling and lack of control over her emotions.

Slinger, trying his absolute best, gently patted Zarina on the back while he paced around the area. Eventually, he figured she needed support, and he needed a bit of weight off his lungs, so Slinger lifted her up under her thighs. All Zarina could offer in return was a small apology that barely escaped her throat without cracking.

“I really get you this wired?” Slinger asked genuinely as he walked over to the windowsill of the shack to lean against it.

“No, I just-” Zarina cut herself short, feeling her throat about to give out again.

“Settle, love,” Slinger whispered and gently kissed her shoulder. “Breathe for a minute.”

“ ‘m sorry,” she mumbled into his coat.

“Quit your apologizin’. You didn’t do nothin’,” Slinger said. “Shoot your shit when you’re calm enough.”

A man of many words this one wasn’t, but Zarina liked that. Slinger was always straight to the point, sometimes being a little harsh, but she could take it. She’d be a pretty bad journalist if she couldn’t handle a few expletives.

Eventually, the survivor got around to calming her mild panic attack. At the first sign of her settling down, Slinger questioned again if she needed to speak her mind. There wasn’t much Zarina could say that she hadn’t already vented to him about before. So, she just shook her head and feigned exhaustion before trying to remove herself from the killer’s arms.

“I don’t give a shit how tired you are,” Slinger told her flatly. He kept her fixed to his chest then began the short walk back to hatch. “When you get back to your friends, bring your ass right on back here.”

Zarina raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. “What do you have here that I’d want?” she asked, playing along.

Slinger shrugged. “Quiet night. Apology whiskey. Maybe some make-up sex.”

Heat rushed to Zarina’s face again as she tried to stifle an excited laugh. “Whiskey’s fine.”

“And so are you,” Slinger quickly added before safely dropping her at the foot of the hatch. “Now hurry on and get your ass on back here.”

Zarina laughed for a moment before her wounds reminded her that she’d better get going. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said softly before dropping into the cool darkness of her escape, fully intending on returning to the blazing heat of that old western town.

#the deathslinger #zarina kassir #dbd #I fully intended on making this short #then it turned into 6 pages #dead by daylight #caleb quinn

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fe-semi-decent-scenarios · 4 years

Note

Could you write an imagine/head cannons for claude, felix, linhardt, and ashe where their s/o disappears leaving only a note? Then at some point they return out of nowhere. Thank you so much!

{I want to keep these stagnant and close to cannon(also easy for me to write). So i’m making it as if reader disappears with just a note for the 5yr gap and then they come back for the reunion. Is that okay? I hope it is. If not feel free to submit something more specific for a one-shot}

Claude:

Claude. For the past week I have tried to put my feelings onto paper, but I can’t. All I can say is that I am sorry. To stay here and sit around waiting for politicians to decide my next action...it isn’t wise. It seems our plans for the future have taken a detour haha. Always know that I am with you; that I will be rooting for you no matter where we end up after all of this. I know you can make those dreams of yours a reality. I believe in you. -(Y/N)

The parchment had lain flat on his desk on top of many other documents. He had almost missed it if not for the familiar handwriting

For a moment Claude just sits there. In the chaos of recent events he hadn’t much time to check in with his friends or peers. After the Empire took the monastery, he was forced back to Alliance territory. His people needed him more than ever before.

He knew that his classmates wouldn’t stick around much longer either. The nobility? Sure, they had to. But people like Raphael or Ignatz were most likely to pursue their own route

You weren’t excluded from those thoughts. While not at the top of the list, Claude had suspected that you might leave as well. It was the timing that caught him off guard

Why not wait and talk it out together? He admits that not every problem is for you both to share, but this? This was personal just as much political.

He never could out-wit you. Even at simple tasks it was like you were always one step ahead. Hard to read, but still honest. He already misses the challenge.

He will hide the note somewhere in his personal quarters. Where? Who knows. Most likely somewhere no one would ever think to look.

What’s done is done. Claude won’t try to track you down or let his emotions over cumber him. He understands that while you two were ‘together,’ life has taken a turn for the worst. He believes that you can make your own decisions and turns his attention to fight against invasion

It’s five years later. More of his friends had faded out of the picture and he’s become a symbol of the Alliance. Occasionally word of your whereabouts had popped up in his ranks alongside the regular reports. The same was with all his other friends who had gone to down their own path. For Claude, knowing that you were safe was enough

Until you appeared at the thieves’ den. Despite how all his deer were ecstatic about seeing each other, all he could think of was the note back in his room

“I see time has brought us together again my friend. I hope this meeting isn’t purely from luck, we could really use you right about now”

Everyone knows that you both were together. Maybe it wasn’t public knowledge, but your quips and flirty jests never went unnoticed. It was obvious he wanted to speak with you alone

And you do. Claude is understanding and doesn’t question what you’ve been doing while away. All he wants to know is why you didn’t say goodbye in person, and if you were there to stay. That’s it.

He needs his right hand. If you’re there, and with the professor at his side, Claude might just hope to see a happier world. He’s so tired of looking back on the past, and wants to work towards bettering the future.

Felix:

Felix. I can’t stick around twiddling my fingers while Fodlan falls to ruin.You may hate me for this, but I’m prepared for that.We both know your wrath isn’t the worst I’ve seen. Seriously Felix. Be good and don’t kill our friends while I’m away. Stay safe and please refrain from doing anything reckless. You better not roll your eyes at this either, I’ll know...I love you. Take care. -(Y/N)

Ingrid delivered the letter after he was released from guard duty. For a time after the battle Felix joined up with what was left of the Fargeus forces and planned on knocking some sense into their beast of a leader. There was still time to fight back and he’d be damned if they wouldn’t take it. You had joined him eagerly. If anything he expected you to cling annoyingly to his side, just as you always had. He wanted it, really.

He won’t say it but the state of the country had shaken him some. He knew that there was a fight awaiting, and knowing that you’d be there gave him extra motivation to press on.

So the sight of your special seal on the envelope made him smirk. He assumed that sending a letter was your way of butting into his feelings, just like you always did. Ingrid even handed it off with a smile.

He wasn’t expecting a goodbye

How...how dare you spring this on him? Leaving in the middle of a war?With that boar on the loose. When you’re needed the most?! All because you were impatient?!

“That idiot! What do they think they’re do- When did you get this? Do not test me right now Ingrid, I need to hurry”

He crumples up the letter in his fist and marches off to find you. He searches the entire compound/camp until he’s forced to give up. There was enough trouble already and he was wasting time.

Needless to say that he’s furious. So much that he rips the note to pieces and tosses it into the fire. It was in the moment...and he regrets it. Those could have been your last words.

Felix blames you for many things beyond that day. Deep down he knows that Fargeus’ loss isn’t your fault, that Dimitri wouldn’t have died if you stayed, that his old man would be just as burdened...

yet he can’t help but use you as a scapegoat. It’s easy for him to hate you when you’re not there to correct him. It’s easy to despise someone who can’t fight back, or is dead.

Over time the hurt fades to a light burn in his chest, haunting him at night or in his darkest moments. It will appear like a punch in the gut, and linger like the sting of a paper cut. All that pain tied to your name.

When he sees Dimitri alive with the professor, Felix is stunned. There might be a chance at regaining his home. Then he scans the group over.

When he sees you, the pain flares up worse than any blade from the prior battle. Instantly he barrels through the other lions seething with anger and ready to give you hell.

Only to stop when you look his way. With harsh breaths, brows drawn in,and fingernails digging themselves into his palms; he just stands there trembling with raw hatred. No. Not hatred...there’s so much more going on.

He watches your lips move yet doesn’t hear any of it. He wants to blame you for everything, but can’t.

and so he doesn’t. He turns away and stomps off to greet his old professor, and leaves the others to fill you in on the situation It works, and for some time you two don’t speak. He lets the feelings of betrayal fester until one night he forces his way into your room.

“You. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through. What kind of stupid thoughts were you thinking?! A note? Did you seriously think a note would be enough?”

Ashe:

Ashe. Before I say anything more, please don’t freak out! I know it looks like i’m going awol but I have to do this. I’m not abandoning you, or our friends, or our home; I can’t explain much but know that this is what’s best at least what I hope is best. I love you so, so much. Just trust me on this. It wasn’t an easy choice and you have every right to be upset with me. Heck, even i’m upset with myself for leaving like this. I wish I could take you with me, but you have a role to follow here. Go be the best dang knight I know you’re capable of being. May the goddess keep you safe and sound my love. -(Y/N)

Love letters weren’t your thing. He was always the hopeless romantic and you’d never do something so “sappy”. The letter lain on his cot scared him, but he still opened it.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Ashe thought that the situation couldn’t become worse, that Fodlan had already been drained of all peace. His home was gone,his father dead, his family’s situation unknown, country in ruins, and the loss of the professor was the topper on the cake. Somehow through it all he still continued to look forward, because he had to. If he gave up, then what? What would he do?

He had dreams. To become a knight, live out his days serving the people, care for his siblings...and recently a new one tallied onto that list. On nights that his books didn’t put him to sleep he would dream of a family. One of his own, with you. It gave him a goal to look towards when he felt displaced among his peers.

He cries after finishing the letter. Ashe doesn’t bother holding anything back as he clutches the note to his forehead to cover his face. Through blurred vision he watches tears smear the ink and panics. He sets it aside on his pillow to protect what’s still in tact.

“Why? I would have understood. We could have gone together...”

Which is exactly why you left a note. Ashe knows that you hate to see him upset. After Lanato you would seldom go a day without checking on him...you wouldn’t be able to say no to bringing him.

Ashe could never convince himself to hate you, and would tell off anyone who even thought of calling you a traitor. To be a knight now had a new meaning to him, it was more than the armor and title . When Fargeus fell he took the future into his own hands and left to join whatever resistance remained. He worked to help those in need, and not once did a day go by where he didn’t think of you.

Even through all the chaos Ashe worries about the people he cares about. As a student he would think of his siblings, and now he thought of you.

The hardest part was adapting to being alone...and keeping faith. It’s difficult to convince yourself that everything is okay when it isn’t

There’s a reason Ashe doesn’t frequently talk of his actions amidst those five years. He has done things he is not proud of, and experienced sensations he wouldn’t wish on anyone

He approached the monestary with little hope of anyone else showing. Only when Gilbert appeared did Ashe become lively. When he saw his highness’ with the professor he was ecstatic...then you appeared

and he felt his heart shatter. The arrows knocked themselves as he pushed through to your position on the field. He becomes a bit too overtaken from adrenaline

“(Y/N)! Y-you’re...you’re alive! Where have you been?!” *que almost being beheaded by an axe* “ O-oh! Right. Not the time, let’s finish this!”

Once settled in the monestary again you can find him in his room, looking over the old letter. He’ll wave it in your face with tears pricking his eyes. Ashe isn’t angry in the slightest but all those feelings of abandonment from the day you left resurfaced like new.

“When you left... I realized that nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Linhardt:

Lin. I’m certain you already know what I have to say. I won’t ask you to wait for me or give an empty apology. What i’m doing is selfish and I don’t hold any expectations for forgiveness. Albeit I do trust that you will live through this. You’re a tough guy whether you’ll admit to it or not; don’t let your inner sloth dominate over your responsibilities. I know you’ll do the right thing. -(Y/N)

Linhardt isn’t surprised in the slightest. He admits to not being the most involved boyfriend, but he knew you well. Perhaps more than you know yourself.

Contrary to everyone else seeing you two as a love-hate partnership, it was far more complex. You’re much more than a personal alarm clock to Linhardt and even in his more infuriating moments(*cough* drifting off during your dates *cough*)you always have his attention

“*sigh*...and there they go again. Leaving me to clean up their mess”

He predicted everything down to the last letter. From the moment you both relocated he could see that you were uncomfortable. Signing up for schooling did not equal agreeing to a draft. Linhardt observed the struggle but remained patient for you to approach him. While normally invasive he also respected your boundaries. There were other pressing matters to attend to in addition to both your personal issues.

He had been delegated to return home until further notice. It didn’t take much to piece together why you had left. With him gone there was no reason to remain, not with the army in its current state. Not when you could possibly be used as leverage or forced to fight on Edelgard’s side.

He was smart enough to realize it was only a temporary farewell.

Linhardt speaks of your departure to no one, and comes up with a stable alibi for when asked.To help indirectly, he tries to stall your missing status report for as long as possible. Your rashness didn’t give much leeway to get the story straight but he managed. It was a bit too troublesome for his liking though.

Troublesome, but worth it. You left unscathed and with the only evidence being his letter. Linhardt considered burning it; it was the logical solution after all. You probably expected him to do so after piecing together your coded message.

It stays with him, folded up and used as a bookmark for his personal tomes. It is always by his side for safe keeping.

When the reunion day draws near he departs from the estate, only taking his research and some valuables. He may not have foreseen to find the professor or the church duo, but you were anticipated.

“Well, look who it is. A runaway returned I trust?”

There is no animosity or sense of tension. He’s just as sassy and you bargained for no less. Like stated before, you both know each other well. He might comment on how you’ve changed or test your knowledge. You know, see if “you’ve slacked off” even though everyone knows he’s far more lax.

Don’t be fooled though. He may have helped because it was the easiest course of action, but do not expect to pull a stunt like that again. He refuses to wait another five years for a life of peaceful retirement. This is going to end soon so be prepared to act as his stressed out lab assistant again

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

Daybreak (3/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go)

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

-----

When darkness creeps into the sky, you can see the shadows of a dwindling day inching into the room.

You sit hunched at your desk, a pen in hand and a notebook open before you.

Typed notes with yesterday’s date sit neatly in a pile, courtesy of your teachers. You had finished all the assignments that were given today, so the rest of the evening was yours-- and yet, you couldn’t seem to make anything of it, like always.

A laptop lay haphazardly on the bed as if thrown there. Papers and sheets littered the floor, a mixture of both typed notes and haphazard writing progressing into black and white scrawl.

You tightened your hold on the pen until your knuckles were paler than the paper. The other hand tapped impatiently on the table, waiting for something while staving off something else.

A mess, and you couldn’t fix it. You couldn’t get the wheel turning and you’ve been fighting it all night, but you have to think back on it again.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

It was like a curse. When you swallow, it feels like you’re choking.

“Ah, crap. Seriously?” You chuckle lowly, but its stale and drops like deadweight in the air.

A hand threads into your hair and you pull at it a bit, as if that’d help relocate lingering thoughts find a way back into confinement, as if it’d pull things out of your head that mattered.

You drop the pen and fold your arms up, dropping your head to rest on the desk. You peer at the phone beside your head, and tap the screen.

It lights up your dim room, and in the split second it takes your eyes to adjust to the brightness, there’s a glimmer of hope. But there’s nothing on the screen. No texts, no reminders, alarms, or missed calls. Vastly empty, making room for vast longing.

The sunset was gone now, reduced to a few straying rays of light. You flip over the phone and turn to the window. You wonder how you’d seem to someone looking in. Would you seem lonely? Could they tell you hadn’t felt whole since then?

Thoughts running in a circle, you can almost hear it again.

The beeping of a heart monitor. The clicking of shoes on white tile. Feigned hope and lies draped in white coats, hushed whispers, as if it didn’t matter that you knew the truth too.

Their words to you were no more than empty promises, false reassurances. They swam lazily, leisurely in your mind, giving you hope then snatching it away. The words live in your heart, reside there. Won’t let you forget.

His face plays in your mind, and you morbidly wonder what expression he made before the impact. Was he scared? Did he see it coming?

Eyes squeeze shut when you can feel the tears collecting again, pooling and forcing their way out in the sneaky way tears do.

Your hand clenches and unclenches, and you raise it and drop it again on the table, weakly, like the world’s shittiest attempt to muster anger.

“Why him?” You wonder, and hate the way your voice sounds fragile. “Why did it have to be him?”

The scent hits you again. Burning tire, sporadic blinking of a traffic sign, lights shooting through the night too much too late for you to do something. Anything.

“Haha, shit.”

The room is still. Nothing moves. An occasional car passes a ways from you, and the distant whirr of wheels on asphalt echoes through the nighttime air. It’s accompanied by a streak of headlights approaching, then fading into darkness.

It stays like this for a very long time, and you remain glued to the spot. The night is always stagnant. You always itch for something to distract you.

Your phone vibrates on the table. You tell yourself you won’t bother to check, but you do anyways. It’s just a reminder that your bill is due soon, but you barely have enough energy to be disappointed.

You eventually rise again, but the way your spine curves into your body, shoulders pulled close…

You see yourself in the mirror when you drag yourself to the bathroom and turn away in distaste. It’s no wonder Wolf hadn’t wanted to speak to you, it was almost like staring at a husk of a person. Disturbing and pathetic.

You knew you should probably stay away, or find some other way to feel better, but it was hard. Always was. And it was far easier to fall back into old habits, far more comfortable to keep making the same mistakes.

So you do.

You pull on the same heels, the same dress. Put on the same makeup, the same brand of lipstick.

The same routes, turns, and the same tinkering bell chime later, you are back in the same place you were a few days ago. It's just a dark shroud, heavy and suffocating, to hide in-- but you are back.

Comfortable, routine normalcy.

You slip into a stool by the bar. You liked this one, because you know the bartender thinks you’re cute and won’t card if you bat your eyelashes.

It was by chance you saw him a month ago, Wolf Keum, and you considered it the best stroke of luck in your life.

The luck seemed to stop short when you had one drink too many and ruined any chances of speaking to him. You supposed you deserved it, but it still stung more than you’d like.

You get whatever the fuck is the cheapest to start, but the bartender slides you a cosmopolitan anyways. You don’t complain because you know he probably won’t charge extra.

An hour passes but the hum of patrons never ceases. You love it here, you think. No one ever notices you, alone at the bar. There are too many stragglers to ever just pick one out.

Just like last time, there’s the clicking of utensils, the low murmur of conversation. It all fades to white noise in the background, and you’re relieved that your mind is slowing. Not completely, but almost pacified. Almost is always good enough.

Just when you think you’re smooth sailing, someone loudly pulls out a chair beside you. The grating sound of an old lopsided barstool dragging along unpolished tile is unpleasant, and the sharp noise reawakens sobriety.

You flex your wrists and send them a sour look, only to be taken aback when a familiar face takes a seat.

He doesn’t look at you but you know he’s just being sly.

You prop an elbow up onto the table and dip behind it, drink souring on your tongue, mirroring on your expression. What does he want, and what happened to his face? As if the mere glance you had taken hadn’t told you enough, you could see his hands on the counter out of the corner of your eye. Bandaged, lopsided gauze, and bruising all along the knuckles.

The bartender cards Wolf and he’s stiff about it. You don’t know if he’s irked you have a guest, or intimidated by his aura. You’re almost disappointed when Wolf pulls an ID out of his pocket. Of course he would have a fake.

He receives his drink promptly. But even when the bartender serves the other patrons, Wolf still doesn’t address you.

You wonder if he’s messing with you and give a small sigh. Your fingers find a lock of hair and twirl it absentmindedly, watching your face in the drink ripple, then vanish when you take a sip.

You squeeze your eyes shut and open your throat. It burns on the way down, when it settles in your stomach, and even when you stop drinking. You don’t really feel like staying any longer, but pride keeps you anchored to the stool.

And why should you leave? You were here first. You couldn’t be intimidated by petty tricks like this, not when you’ve seen worse from middle schoolers.

You turn your head away from him and look out the window. Wonder if it’s obvious you’re ignoring him. You can see his larger frame hunched over behind you, silhouetting yours easily. See him pick up his glass with his fingertips, downing the entire thing in one go. He throws back his head when he drinks, and you can see his adams apple bobbing with each swallow. Its rushed, and you wonder what’s got him worked up.

A car passes by outside, and the reflection is scattered. You turn back to your drink and swish the liquid, pretending to give a shit about the citrus peel inside. The motions feel strange with your left hand, but the right one is currently blockading you from Wolf.

He’s being awfully quiet, so you sneak a look at him.

His sharp gaze clashes with yours, and your heart leaps to your throat when you realize you were caught red-handed.

You clear your throat and set your cup down with a clink, dropping your right arm. You want to dish out an attitude to repay him for yesterday, but all you can muster is another quiet sigh.

“…Is there something you wanted?”

Your eyebrows pull together in a weak attempt to seem concerned, and when you pull up the corners of your lips, it feels like a thousand pounds.

There are bandages on his jaw, his neck, his nose, his forehead. Scratches everywhere else.

You feel for him, but the cool façade he puts up doesn’t seem to be looking for pity.

It was true he looked destroyed, yet the fiery spirit in his eyes burned bright, like coals crackling orange then splitting yellow in the fireplace. If you peered in for too long, they beckoned to you, dangerous but tempting.

He moves to answer you, and you’re mesmerized by the way his lips barely move when he speaks. He must not need to be loud to demand attention, you think. His fists do the work for him, which is ironic because you don’t hear him, too busy with staring at his face.

“I’m sorry, what?”

The corner of his lip tugs up a bit. He leans in closer and you can smell the whiskey on his warm breath, hot and wet on your face.

“You look like shit.”

Your body goes rigid and your throat closes. You’re not sure if it’s an adverse reaction to what he said, or a survival mechanism to avoid saying dumb shit that would land you in a hospital. The spite shoots into your gut, and it twists in irritation. If it shows on your face, he doesn’t react to it. You’re not sure if he’s too drunk to give a fuck about manners, or if he’s just like this all the time.

You scoff and wrap your fingers around your glass, clenching.

“So do you.”

He gives you a bit of a look, and it feels like amber eyes are slicing into your body, cupping your soul. You want to tear your gaze away, but he looks enchanting under the glow of the bulbs, hanging low. Eyes are half lidded, and it doesn’t help that hes angled himself to peer at you through his lashes, longer than you could’ve imagined. The alcohol induces a pink flush across his cheeks that seems to match the odd expression on his face.

You know he’s not trying to seem seductive, since his body language is still closed off. But when his tongue darts out to catch a drop of whiskey on his lip, you force yourself to look back down at your hands.

“Hah, fuck you.”

You grit your teeth and try to keep a straight face.

Did he sit next to you just to pick a fight? Why wasn’t he with his group of assholes? Were they waiting to ambush you?

You look up at him again, lips set in a grimace. “…Where are your friends?”

Wolf yawns to let you know he’s bored with your questions and doesn’t bother to cover his mouth. You want to shove him off the barstool but hold back for your own sake.

“Meeting. I didn’t go because the boss is a prick.”

You pretend to understand, but you don’t and he knows it.

“The Union, heard of it?”

You dig through the recesses of your brain and think you recall hearing some of the students at school gossiping about the “shuttle hatch,” so you tell Wolf that. He exhales a bit through his nose, and his lip quirks up again. He seems amused by something, but you have no idea what.

“Right. Shuttle hatch.”

There’s a long silence that stretches between the both of you after this, and it puts you on edge.

A minute passes into ten, into thirty. He doesn’t say anything else, but even though he sits there with an empty glass and a stomach full of whiskey, he won’t leave.

You’re beginning to feel like he’s testing you- challenging you, even. So you leave a sip of cosmo in your cup as an excuse to stay. You raise it to your lips now and then, and it’s lukewarm.

“What happened to your face?”

Wolf is distracted, eyes closed, face red and swaying slightly to the faint music over the speakers. You don’t think he’s even conscious until he speaks up, eyes still closed, body still swaying.

“Donald Na.”

His answer only served to confuse you more, and it definitely didn’t help that he spoke to cryptically.

“…Alright.” You mutter, not even attempting to hide your cluelessness. All these names and talking of bosses and unions confused you. It reminded you of a noir book you tried and failed to write, for obvious reasons.

Wolf understands the hesitation in your voice, “He’s my boss. The prick.”

Your head turns to him. He looks stupid swaying in the light with all those bandages on his face, but it was the face of someone far bolder than you, far less reservations. Even begrudgingly, you had to respect him for his audacity.

“Your boss did this to you?” When you ask, you forget to filter the worry out of it. It’s just a smidgen, but no doubt Wolf catches onto it immediately.

He peeks an eye open to assess your reaction, but you’ve stored it back in your sleeve in anticipation of this. He scoffs and closes his eye again. “Yeah. Fucker.”

You tap a finger on the counter, listen to your nail go click click click.

Talking to Wolf was like playing a game, it was just as enthralling as it was frustrating. Talking to people hadn’t ever been this hard, even after everything happened. The lulls in the conversation, the lapses in his sentences- there was a rhythm to it, a puzzle that felt like it’d complete you, too. You weren’t not sure how to describe it, but it feels strange, novel. Like you were scaling a mountain with no foreseeable end, but you wanted to conquer it. Wanted to show him, the whole world, you were still someone.

You scoff in response. “I don’t blame him. I’d sock you in the mug too if I had the chance.”

He shoots you a curious glance, but there’s light in his eyes, adrenaline rushing through his heart. You can see it in the way he shifts a bit in his seat, uncrossing then recrossing his legs.

“You have the chance now.”

You shake your head at him and purse your lips. When you speak, you can feel your heartbeat in your throat. “And give you the chance to throttle me after what happened last time? When hell freezes over.”

Wolf chuckles, it’s low, dark. Makes you nervous.

The hazel in his eyes is stirring now, like the tint of a cloud passing over splattered stars. When he smiles, he only uses half of his mouth to make a smirk, and it reminds you of the way a crescent moon curls, luminous, haunting, and almost sad.

“Are all girls this bitter after rejection?”

You entertain his dry joke with a dry laugh and clam up again. He doesn’t seem to care, but some tiny part of you wishes he did.

It was like playing with fire. Hot and destructive.

You both order another drink half an hour into the silence and finish it another half hour later. Now you’re just sitting here, both of you, seeping in the tension.

When your phone rings, it jolts you, not expecting the loud and obnoxious chime to be at maximum volume. The buzzing screen displays a name in big, bold letters:

ALEX GO

You look at the time above the name, 10:43PM. Your heart flutters once, twice.

Standing up from the bar, you push your drink with a sip left closer into the table.

“I’m going now,” you say to the air, in case Wolf isn’t listening. But he is.

When you glance at him, you just barely catch his eyes slipping from the phone in your hand to your blushing face.

There’s a wisp of something in the air, like smoke. Like jealousy. And then it’s gone.

He doesn’t respond and turns back around.

You feel almost disappointed, but promise yourself it doesn’t matter. But just before you head out, you hear Wolf speak again,

“Thanks.”

He pauses, like he’s pondering if he should explain why he’s thankful. Like he, himself, isn’t sure what he’s grateful for.

You understand him because you’ve felt it before too. You rest your hand on his slumped shoulders and give him a smile that you hope he can hear in your words.

“Get better soon, Wolf Keum.”

And again like last time, your heels click on mosaic tiles as you make your exit. The bell chimes, the door creaks, and hisses shut. The sound of the restaurant is drowned out by a peaceful silence. When you turn back to see if Wolf is watching, all you can see in the glass is your own gaze, peering back at you.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #WEAKHEROFANDOMUNITE #weak hero x reader #alex go #alex go x reader #wolf keum #wolf keum x reader #daybreak

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silentexplorer18 · 4 years

Note

Hey, how’s it going? Could you please write a Kol Mikaelson blurb from the angsty prompts using no. 2, 12, 18 and 31? Thanks in advance✨

Hi there! Thank you so much for sending in a blurb request! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it. I’m doing okay, the stress of the world is starting to get to me a bit more than usual, but I’m trying hard to keep my spirits up on here.

I honestly have no idea what possessed me with this. I just started clacking away at my computer and this is what came out. I hope you like it!

Click here to read on AO3.

Kol was never one to shy away from his wants. When he wanted something, he took it, family, friends, and enemies be damned. But in all his years of walking the Earth, wandering from continent to continent in search of fleeting entertainments, he never anticipated encountering you.

You standing in the honey blond field, head thrown back as you laughed at his joke.

You leading him through the Farmers’ Market, eyes falling closed as you sniffed Ms. Schumer’s flowers.

You dancing on the steps of your meager home, hand outstretched for his own.

You kissing his cheek each night, bashfully forward, as he departed for the lavish house he’d rented for the season.

You bounding up to him, grin sunnier than the morning sky as you asked, “What would Mister Mikaelson like for breakfast this fine morning?”

You in all your simply charming glory.

Just you.

He’d never been particularly weak for a human before, but you lived and breathed a radiance he’d never seen in all his lifetime. As risky as it was to fall for you, he couldn’t seem to avoid it.

His brothers would have been furious; Mikaelsons did not choose weaknesses. However, your hand slipping into his own, wistful smile teasing your lips, pushed away his worries as quickly as they’d come.

You never knew that you were encouraging him, silently, selflessly, but you were. And that made Kol stay when he could have raced for the hills, should have raced for the hills. Because what human as pure as yourself could ever love someone as dark as him.

He knew he was loving on precious time, walking a tightrope before you pushed him away, but he was selfish, and you were worth being selfish over.

Besides, how could he even think of leaving when you squeezed his hand one evening, wandering with him through the sunflower fields as the golden sunset cast a glow over your warm smile. “You know, I could marry you one day,” you whispered softly. That was all that was said, but he knew, he just knew, he was standing on a sinking ship. His secret was dangerous, and this was only meant to be a summer fling until he’d desperately fallen for your sweet demeanor and kind smile. He couldn’t just walk away, hurt you. He had to let you hurt him.

“There’s something I need to show you,” he whispered a few nights later, the last official week of the summer, scraping his toe against the flaking paint of the house he’d rented. It was nice, nothing as nice as some of the other places he’d rented over the years, but you’d been mesmerized by it all the same. It was endearing watching you fawn over the building, eyes growing sorrowful as you realized how lonely he must be living all by himself. But you weren’t looking so endearing anymore, eyes wide and curious as you waited for him to continue.

The porch light was flickering and the moths were beating against the bulbs in a chaotic pulse. He could’ve turned back, said something else, but he could only delay the inevitable for so long. After decades on earth, he felt like a frightened child again, young and frightened by whatever future awaited him.

“I’m a vampire,” he said, cringing how loud it sounded against the backdrop of chirping bugs and croaking frogs.

“What?” You were staring at him like he’d gone crazy, stance shifting to something distinctly more guarded. He could’ve killed you in an instant, but he didn’t bother saying that. He’d never hurt you.

“I’m a vampire,” he muttered again. He’d need to prove it for you to believe him, that much was obvious. Focusing on the thought of you, of how sweet you must taste below the surface of your skin, he felt his face shift, the veins below his eyes darkening, the length of his fangs extending. He opened his eyes, jet-black gaze falling on your alarmed features. Hating the look of fear on your face, he stepped forward, regretting the action as soon as he’d done it. You flinched, horror washing across your features as he turned away. That would be the last expression he saw on your precious face as he shoved through the screen door, rushing up the steps to the empty room in the attic he could destroy without remorse.

Falling in a heap on the floor, he stared out the window, moonlight washing his features as he cried hot tears, loathing himself for being such a monster. This whole thing was only meant to be a summer fling, he reminded himself, heart breaking at the thought of leaving you behind. But that’s what you deserved. He was a curse you didn’t deserve cast upon you, not in the long run. He hiccuped, wiping snot on his sleeve as he realized all the ways it could never work with you.

Until he could suddenly hear you walking up the stairs, “Kol, honey, please don’t hide from me.”

And he was crying again, sobbing despite the strong front he wanted to put on as your hands fell against his cheeks and traced comforting patterns on his shoulders. “I can’t breathe,” he whispered.

“Then I’ll breathe with you.”

When his crying had subsided, the fear in his heart tingled to life again, flaming across his ribs as he realized how selfish it was to want you, how badly he needed to let you go.

You were kneeling in front of him, eyes soft but unsure as you watched him recover, hands slipping from his shoulders to just barely graze against his knees.

“I know that you’re scared,” Kol hissed, gaze falling to the fluttering pulse point in your neck. “I can hear your heart beating. You’re afraid.”

“Of course I’m scared.” You shifted into a more comfortable position, back resting against the opposing wall a few feet away, hands still reaching out to barely touch his own. “Everything I’ve ever known is crashing down around me. The love of my life is a vampire. I—” she laughed a disbelieving laugh, “I don’t exactly know what to do now.”

His look was skeptical. Maybe they were both going crazy. “You know what to do next. You hate me for wasting your time. You yell, you cry, you move on—”

“I could never hate you, Kol,” you sighed, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I just don’t know where to go from here. I thought you were the love of my life. My one, limited life. Forever or never is a lot to take in.”

“I don’t want you forever,” he whispered. It was the most convincing lie he’d told her yet.

She rested her head against the wall as the crickets chirped and the moon filtered through the stagnant leaves and the world seemed to swallow his perfect summer whole. “My forever or yours?”

#silent writes #blurb night #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson blurb

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chroniclackofselfpreservation · 3 years

Text

Creatures of the Night

Chapter 11 - better by far to forget and smile

Back to the Beginning < Previous chapter / Next chapter >

AO3

Masterlist

(TW: injury, pain, graphic violence, unconsciousness, panic attacks)

(The title of the chapter comes from "Remember" by Christina Rossetti )

Patton blinked. He’d zoned out, though he couldn’t tell how long. Long enough his limbs felt stiff and weighed down—similar to waking up from a nap. The world hadn’t so much as twitched in the time he’d sat there reminiscing. Wakeby was stagnant as a reflecting pool, but just murky enough for him to forget that the outside world existed, that his past had even happened.

For a while, he’d worried about lying to everyone. To Dot… What if he couldn’t keep it up? What if they found out he wasn’t the happy-go-lucky guy everyone knew and loved? Those concerns hadn’t lasted. It had only been a façade for the first year or so.

After that, the repression seemed to catch on. He really believed he was as happy as he pretended to be. When he thought about his childhood, he only pictured one with Dot. It was a strange sort of dual-memory. He knew that he was adopted, sure, but it was easy to forget. He and Dot looked similar enough, and if he really wanted to, he could pretend she’d raised him his whole life.

Dot didn’t have many friends outside the nursing home, and the ones she did didn’t have good enough memories to wonder how she’d suddenly acquired a thirteen-year-old son. Patton lied and told people at school that he’d been homeschool up until now.

No one knew but him and his mom, even now. It didn’t seem like an important detail. He was happy now. That’s all that mattered.

The hard part came when his friends asked questions about his childhood, or wondered why they’d never seen a picture of him younger than when they’d first met. He’d have to thank Merri for his quick wit and talent for squirming out of difficult situations as easily as a fish through water… but then he was thinking about Merri, and that was an issue.

Patton looked down at his watch. It was half-past midnight. He’d been gone for nearly five hours. He hadn’t spent the whole time in the alley, of course—wandering absently around Wakeby for the better part of it, feeling twitchy and unsettled and sending polite smiles to those he passed that called greetings. He’d retreated to the alley to escape anymore similar encounters, but he hadn’t even realized…

Reaching behind himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d set it to silent when he’d left the house. Five missed calls. The first from Roman, three more from Logan, and one final one from Virgil. Several more texts accompanied the missed calls, asking where he was and if he needed help.

Guilt rising in his throat like bile, Patton typed out a quick text.

I’m okay. On my way home now. Sorry for making you all worry.

He hit send and shoved the device into his pocket, still on silent. He’d deal with the collective worry-induced wrath of his friends once he was home.

* * * * * * * * * *

Patton hadn’t gone three steps into the house when Logan came sprinting down the hall. His face was hard with worry and concern. Patton startled, memories and instincts of his old self still fresh in his mind.

Logan stopped an appropriate distance away, but the movement was halting, like he’d restrained himself.

“Are you… well?” he asked.

“Um…” Patton’s voice wavered. He swallowed and glanced around. He hadn’t realized how close to the brink of tears he’d been, but he was so tired, there wasn’t much he could do about it at this point.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice breaking pathetically. “I’m okay.” Tears spilled over and down his cheeks. His breath hitched in his chest. Logan’s expression grew panicked, and Patton didn’t blame him. He’d never lost it like this in front of any of them.

“Patton, I don’t—oh, no. Can you—what do you need? Why is this so much easier with Vir—”

“It’s okay! I’m fine, you don’t have to do anything.” Patton said desperately, but he didn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he pull himself together? His hands were all shaky and his breath came harder in his chest. He wished Dot were here. Patton wanted his mom, and he hated himself for it. Here he was, twenty-one years old, and still crying for his mother.

“You are objectively not fine, Patton. What can I do? What will help?” Logan said. He placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder, and that was it. He couldn’t resist anymore.

He fell against Logan’s chest, clutching his shirt in his fists and sobbing. Logan didn’t hesitate, wrapping him in his arms and resting his cheek against Patton’s hair.

“What’s going on, Patton? Can you tell me what happened?” Logan asked softly, but it only made Patton cry harder. His life happened, that’s what. His whole life he’d been a failure, and even now he was failing at being the person he wished he was.

Logan tightened the hug, like he was scared Patton would disappear if he let go. The pressure was nice, actually, and Patton found himself relaxing into it, the tension bleeding out of him.

Soon, he was reduced to a sniffling mess, feeling exhausted and raw and scraped completely hollow. He calmed down somewhat, his breathing slowing.

Logan let him go, and Patton had to bite his tongue to keep from telling him not to. It felt so good to be held. To feel protected and safe.

“Please refrain from wandering off like that again,” Logan said not unkindly, his eyes softening. “Or, at least, answer your phone and let us know that you are unharmed.”

“Sorry, Lo.”

“It was a simple request for future incidents. You do not need to apologize.” Logan placed a steady hand on Patton’s shoulder and managed to convey just as much emotion into as any bone-crushing hug.

He was suddenly reminded of his dreams.

“Where’s Roman?”

He waited a moment before answering. “Visiting his father.”

“What?” Patton breathed. “Why?”

Logan shrugged, though Patton could tell he was far more concerned than he was letting on. “He said he was going to battle some of his demons. He should be fine.”

“Should be?” Patton wondered if that was what Roman had been so upset about today.

“That was a poor choice of wording. He assured me that he would be fine, and I believe him.”

That’s a lie, Patton thought to himself, but didn’t call Logan out. If anyone could spot a lie, it was Patton. He did it enough, he ought to. Right?

“Okay,” he conceded. “What about Virgil? Is he… doing alright? Roman sort of told me what happened earlier, but…”

Logan ran his hands down his face, now unapologetically frustrated. “He went after Roman.”

“He just left? Should we go too? What if they need help?”

“I assure you,” Logan said wearily, “That our interference will only cause them strife. It would be better if we let them handle it on their own.” He said the words as if trying to convince himself of them.

Patton wiped his face and took a breath. “Have you eaten anything?”

“What?”

“I left before I made dinner. Have you eaten anything?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Come help me make dinner,” Patton said, grabbing Logan’s hand and dragging him to the kitchen. Logan didn’t complain.

It seemed they both needed distractions.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roman sprinted through the dark forest, using his ears more than his eyes to keep tabs on where the giant demon was headed. His blood pounded in his ears and he unsheathed his dagger.

Virgil was here.

Virgil was here, and somehow Dorian knew him, and he was a cat.

His mind had been racing with unanswered questions, but as soon as Dorian had struck, all unimportant things had left his mind. He’d gotten used to doing so after spending every night hunted.

Except now, he wasn’t the one being hunted. Or even the hunter. He was the third party simply trying to keep his friend alive. But he was only human. He couldn’t hope to keep up with Dorian, especially on the ground. He could only hope that Virgil could outrun him long enough to survive.

Fortunately, the cat—or Virgil—was zagging through the trees, and circled back towards Roman. His ears were so flat against his head they might as well not have been there, and his pupils were blown wide. He ran past him, only a few yards to the right. Roman crouched, silently calculating the distance, then lunged, tackling Dorian.

The serpent was moving so fast, he kept rocketing forward when Roman crashed into him, only slightly sideways now, rolling a few times. Roman tried to grab hold of him, but his arms couldn’t reach all the way around. All the wind knocked out of his lungs as he rolled with the demon. Lights popped in his eyes when he hit a tree.

Dorian didn’t stop for even a second. His scales ripped through Roman’s sleeves and cut his palms raw as he wriggled free, too distracted by his new prey to give Roman a second glance. Roman cried out, his chest, arms, and hands now stripped of the first few layers of skin, leaving them pink and bleeding and looking like he’d skidded bare-skinned across asphalt. He wished, now more than ever, he’d continued wearing Logan’s leather armor.

At least he’d had the common sense—or paranoia—to wear the amulet.

Gritting his teeth through the pain, Roman got to his feet and kept running. They weren’t too far ahead.

Virgil veered suddenly to the right and scrambled up a tree.

“Virgil, NO!” Roman bellowed, out of breath. Dorian may be slower in trees, but Virgil had effectively blocked himself in. Unless he wanted to climb down toward the giant snake-demon, he’d be too high up to jump down without hurting himself.

Dorian let out an excited growl that sounded altogether not human in the worst way possible, and began winding up the trunk after Virgil.

Grunting and willing his legs to keep running, Roman tightened his grip on his knife, sprinted toward the tree, and leaped.

He flew through the air for only a second, bracing himself as he slammed into Dorian and clung for dear life to the slick, scaly body.

Dorian either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

Ignoring the protest of nearly every part of his body, Roman desperately trying to keep his hold as Dorian wound higher and higher up the tree.

“Dorian! Stop it! Stop this!” he barked, but he received no reply. Virgil wobbled as he began to reach branches that were too thin to support his weight. He looked around frantically. He’d have to go back down the tree to even reach the adjacent pine, let alone jump to the ground, and that meant getting closer to the giant fanged mouth.

Cursing in a way his father would have belted him for, Roman squeezed the serpentine body with his legs to keep balance as he placed the tip of his dagger at the edge of a palm-sized diamond-shaped scale, and slammed his other fist against the hilt. The blade slid under the golden plating, and, nearly losing his balance as branches slapped his face, popped the scale clean off.

Before Dorian could react, Roman plunged the dagger deep into the newly-exposed flesh. Blood as black and hot as tar sprayed Roman’s arms and face, setting his open wounds ablaze with pain.

Dorian howled in pain, but before he could so much as snap in Roman’s direction, he lost his grip. The blood made the scales slick, and Roman fell. He tried to turn, to catch himself, but didn’t react fast enough. His back collided with a branch as thick as his thigh. Bones crunched inside of him. Roman hit the ground, but he barely felt it, his mind white with pain. His head swam and he wheezed into the dirt, unable to breathe.

Don’t let Virgil die, he told himself. Don’t do it. You’ll never forgive yourself.

He had to get the amulet off. Otherwise, he and Virgil were as good as dead. The thing was, the arm with the amulet was folded beneath him and growing numb. Roman was pretty sure he’d broken it. That and he couldn’t feel his legs.

Virgil let out a heart wrenching yowl of helpless terror from up in the tree.

Roman grit his teeth and threw his weight to the side over and over again until he flipped himself over onto his back. Moving quick with his one uninjured arm, he ripped the amulet from his arm. Cold, prickling magic surged through him. His legs spasmed and his nerves lit on fire. Roman gasped and nearly was sick when he felt his vertebrae pop back into place. His whole body itched unbearably.

Roman stared up at the canopy. He wouldn’t make it. The magic wouldn’t heal him fast enough to save Virgil.

He could see the two of them high in the trees.

Dorian was only seconds away.

Virgil crouched as well as he could on the thin branch that dipped beneath his weight.

Virgil leaped.

He soared true, right toward the next tree. He was going to make it.

Dorian’s pupils constricted paper thin. With his body still anchored around the pine, he lashed out, mouth stretching, fangs dripping.

He clipped Virgil. Grazed him right across the ribs with a single fang.

Roman surged to his feet, regardless of his still healing body and sprinted to catch Virgil as he was knocked out of the air. Roman could survive falling from that height, especially with an amulet, but Virgil? As a cat? Such a fall could kill him if he didn’t land on his feet.

Virgil plummeted.

Roman dove…

and caught him. He rolled to slow himself, cradling Virgil against his chest. Roman came to a stop, his hands shaking. Virgil was trembling, his tiny chest heaving and he panicked. He clawed Roman’s hands, still in fight or flight mode, until he dropped him.

“Virgil, wait—”

The cat stumbled this way and that, like he’d been spinning in circles, shaking his head and making confused, terrified sounds.

It was the venom. It was starting to work through his system. In a body that small, it surely spread faster.

Roman heard Dorian leave the tree, slithered toward them. He rounded on the demon.

“What did you do?!”

“What a shame,” he sighed, looking over Roman’s shoulder at Virgil, who was now on the ground, twitching.

Roman panicked. He had to do something. Virgil was going to die, and it would be his fault…

“Turn him back, now!” he demanded.

“What? Why?”

Roman stepped right up to the demon’s face, aware of the fact that the thing couldn’t kill him. His mind turned dark with anger. “Turn him human! Turn him back right now, or I swear I will make you wish you could die.”

Dorian met his gaze for a solid moment, before flicking his tongue and remarking, “The game’s over anyway,” He slithered around Roman and blew on Virgil as he had earlier. Another flash of golden light warmed Roman’s skin and suddenly Virgil—in his normal, human body—appeared.

Unfortunately, the wound had grown with him. The gash wasn’t deep or bleeding too badly, and Roman was thankful for that, but it was as wide as his palm in places and stretched from his left shoulder down to his opposite hip.

The venom was the real concern.

Roman rushed to Virgil’s side, grabbing his hand.

“Hey! Hey, Virge. Buddy, can you hear me? Look at me. Right here, yeah, like that. Good job. Okay, I’m going to go get the antidote, alright? You have to hold on for me, okay? Don’t fall asleep.”

Virgil made a slow sound of acknowledgement, his eyelids drooping. Roman stood and rounded on Dorian, pointing a finger at the serpent’s snout.

“You even breathe in his direction again and I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to you myself,” he growled, then sprinted off in search of Silkweed. Roman had experienced the venom’s terrifying effects before. It slowly numbed your whole body, shutting down all of your muscles and nerves. It obviously hadn’t killed him, but he’d been able to deduce the final effects. It stopped your heart. Or something of a similar nature.

It didn’t take Roman long to find the plant. That same familiar feeling entered his mind the second he’d gone to find it. Nestled between two large tree roots, he grabbed fistfuls of the soft, velvety leaves and ran back as fast as he could.

He skidded to a stop at Virgil’s side, falling to his knees in the damp dirt. He was still breathing but only just. His eyes were closed and his skin had gone clammy.

“Virgil! Virgil, no, come on. Wake up! You have to chew these! Virgil!” he cried, cupping his friend’s face in his hands. Frantically, he shoved a handful of the leaves into his own mouth and chewed them into a pulp. Roman spat the green mess into his hand, opened Virgil’s mouth, and pushed it inside.

It was gross, sure, but if it saved Virgil’s life, he’d do it without hesitation.

Everything was torturously silent. Nothing happened.

Dorian slithered past, “I doubt this is the best time to bring such an issue up, but you have still yet to break your curse, little prince. I’d advise you to do so soon.”

“Shut up!” Roman screamed at him. “This is your fault! If he dies…”

“Yes, yes, I know, little prince.” He slunk away into the darkness. “I know.”

Roman knew that the antidote took time to work. It had taken hours for himself to recover. He’d only survived because he’d stumbled into a good enough hiding spot before going completely numb. That’s where he’d found the Silkweed the first time.

Desperately telling himself to be calm, Roman got up. He situated Virgil in a position that hopefully he was comfortable with, then set off to find where he’d thrown the amulet after ripping it free of his arm.

It only took him a few seconds.

He’d always been good at finding lost things. Ever since he’d been a kid.

The string was broken, but Roman was able to tie it back together, and wrap it around his arm again. He wished it would help Virgil, but it only healed injuries that were inflicted while someone wore it, and then took it off.

Without much else to do but wait, Roman sat with his back against a tree trunk and Virgil’s head in his lap. He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair absently as he looked out at the forest.

It was soft. He must have showered not too long ago.

Roman clasped his hand in Virgil’s, then tipped his head back against the tree, closing his eyes.

And the crickets sang.

#tw pain #pain tw #tw graphic violence #graphic violence #graphic violence tw #tw unconciousness #unconsciousness tw #tw panic attack #panic attack tw #panic attack #sanders sides #sanderssides #thomas sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sander sides fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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petrichorrainfall · 4 years

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Asmodeus

Asmodeus One is for lust, those dark, dirty thoughts lurking in his mind...

!!! WARNING !!! Explicit content, mature themes, cursing, dubious consent !!! NOTE !!! The author does not condone this in real life

I’ll be late tonight. Don’t wait for me. Get some rest darling..

You clutched your phone, and sighed quietly. It happened again. These few months, Asmodeus had been a bit less attentive and close. He was always coming home late, skipping dinner and postponing dates that the two of you had scheduled. He would return drunk sometimes, the lingering smell of another woman's perfume on him. You overlooked it, like a typical fool in love. Besides, he was busy. He couldn’t help it, you supposed as you stood up to grab a can of soda. Considering he was Chief Financial Officer of Pandora Corp., it was only natural that he would have a lot on his plate.

“I need to be more understanding,” you murmured quietly to yourself, popping the soda can open. Despite there only being an age gap of four years between you and your boyfriend, he was so much more successful and accomplished than you were. You sighed, leaning back into your couch and stared up at the ceiling. Sometimes, it was hard to forget the drastic differences between the two of you.

With a heavy feeling in your heart, you went to bed. You nuzzled into the sheets, closing your eyes to let sleep take you.

When you woke, you realized that someone was in bed next to you. A possessive arm was draped lazily over your waist. Asmodeus, you thought with a small smile, rolling over to gently poke his cheek playfully. There was a slight groan, and he shifted over to face you, still half-asleep. His eyes opened blearily, and he seemed dazed. It was rather endearing, and you chuckled at him.

“Good morning,” you said, brushing some of the hair out of his face. Asmodeus grumbled his displeasure, never a morning person, but laced his fingers through yours and squeezed, as if saying good morning as well. He drew you closer to him.

“What time is it?” he mumbled. You laughed at his half-awake voice, reaching over to grab your phone and show him the time. Asmodeus stiffened, and then hastily threw the bed covers off. You startled at the sudden movement, giving him a confused glance. “There’s an important meeting I have to be at in half an hour. Can’t stay in with you today darling, sorry.” He brushed his lips over your forehead, and without even looking back at you, got dressed and dashed out. You sat in the bed, disappointed, and slightly more heartbroken. His breath smelled slightly of alcohol, and… there was the faintest smell of perfume. It wasn’t yours.

You had prepared yourself for this when you began to date Asmodeus. This scene had already happened many times before. He was a flirt, known for being a playboy. Despite the warnings, you remembered the first time you met him, how he seemed sweet and sort of awkward, rather than the suave and smooth personality he was known for. You remembered the light smell of brewing coffee, the summer rain outside the coffee shop window, the brief and fleeting glances. “Let’s get to work,” you told yourself, trying to brush back the memories.

The coffee shop was the same as you had remembered. You sipped at your iced latte, the written lab reports strewn across your small table.

“Professor still has you on paperwork duty?” A rather incredulous voice asked. You looked up, meeting Emily’s eyes. Your friend sat down across from you, picking up a report and scanned over it quickly before making a face. “Y/N! You need to tell him that you can do so much than just read reports. You’ve been his intern for what? Almost four months now! You were one of the best researchers in our major, and your lab professor has you doing paperwork?!” Emily gave you a pointed stare, before groaning. “You have to stop being so nice Y/N! Tell him that you can do so much more! He’s wasting your skills and you’re learning nothing. See, this is why you should have applied to the same lab that I did. Whatever, I can’t change your mind. How has it been with your boyfriend?” She said the word distastefully. Emily had never approved of your relationship with Asmodeus from the start, clearly warning you that he was never going to truly focus his attention on you alone. She didn’t want you to end up with a broken heart.

“He’s been a bit busy with his work,” you replied, swirling your drink around. Emily narrowed her eyes, before giving a ‘tsk’. She had always been in tune with you, understanding more than you told her through words.

“I told you,” she said, though it was more resigned than anything else. “Y/N, I understand that you like him, but… This is going to keep happening. It’s probably been happening for a while too, knowing you. You can’t let him treat you like this. You deserve better. He hasn’t even made it public that he has a girlfriend.He keeps treating you like some mistress he can just toss away.” Emily gave you a frown, patting your hand gently. She glanced at her watch, standing up with a small sigh. “Give your situation some more thought. I’d hate to see him keep pushing you to the side.” With a wave, Emily left you alone with your thoughts.

You cupped your drink, thoughtful. It’d be okay, you told yourself. Asmodeus was just stressed from the recent influx of work. Your hands tightened. It’d be okay. But a small of you feared that like the many others before you, he had simply gotten bored.

That night you kept to yourself in your room, thinking over what Emily had told you. It wasn’t like you had evidence that Asmodeus was cheating on you. He had just gotten drunk, and likely went somewhere with a few of his friends. You bit your lip, knowing that it was foolish of you to hope for something like that. The signs were crystal clear. But the thing is, when people fell in love, they did foolish things. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stop yourself from liking Asmodeus. He had treated you kindly, been sweet, listening to your troubles and curled up on the couch when things were rough. It’d be okay. You nodded to yourself, determined. All relationships went through a stagnant period, and this was no different —

The loud slamming of the door caught your attention, and you opened the door of your bedroom. “Asmodeus —” Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a shaky step back, before closing your bedroom door. He had brought back a woman home. This was the first time he had done something so blatant. You closed your eyes, sliding down onto the floor. The image burned. She was lovely, cascading locks and an enticing figure. And the way she looked at you, scornful, but also confused, hurt. He didn’t tell anyone that he had a girlfriend did he? Was that why whenever the two of your went on a date, he always chose somewhere secluded and away from the public’s eyes? He’s ashamed of me, you realized with a start, and it hurt more than anything else. You clutched your chest, gasping. It… it physically hurt. Your heart was beating way too fast, and you could feel your chest tighten, your throat struggle for air. You heard another door close, and a lock click into place. Asmodeus’s bedroom. You feel tears threaten to spill over, and you knew you couldn’t stay in this house while he —

Twenty minutes later, Emily opened her door to find you sobbing quietly, tears streaming down your face. She asked no questions, taking you into her arms and hugging you gently. “Let’s get you washed up, alright? Stay for as long as you need to.” Some time after, whilst cupping a cup of hot cocoa, you tearfully confessed what had happened earlier that evening. Emily was livid, but you were tired. All you wanted to do was rest, and sleep away your troubles.

“Am I something to be ashamed of?” you asked quietly. “He never revealed our relationship to anyone. Thinking about it, whenever people could see us, he never held my hand, or did anything resembling romantic.” You had been so enamored by him that you had barely realized. You trembled a bit more, the pain in your chest still not fading away. You remembered Emily’s words from that morning, about how he treated you like someone he could toss away like trash.

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on,” Emily said firmly. Her eyes were full of fury, and had it not been for you crying at her house right now, you suspected that she would have stormed over and given Asmodeus a verbal lashing. Yet, you knew that you could not possibly be someone deserving to stand next to Asmodeus. You were a simple graduate student, average looks, meek personality, while Asmodeus, attractive and brilliant, held a high-ranked position in a multi-billion dollar company. You looked at Emily, tired and simply wanting to just sleep. It’d be okay.

You returned Saturday morning, expecting to walk into an empty house again. Asmodeus was there, waiting at the table with two cups of coffee. You could feel the pain from last night resurface again. The women was nowhere to be seen. She probably left, you thought with a small feeling of relief. You hated it, how even when Asmodeus hurt you, you still wanted to stay with him.

“Where were you last night?” Asmodeus asked, eyes boring into yours. You wanted to be angry, but the second you looked at him, you could feel the anger dissipate.

“I — I was at Emily’s place,” you admitted quietly, sitting across from your boyfriend. He stood up, walking over to envelop you in a loose hug.

“I get worried when I don’t know where you’re at,” he murmured, lips brushing over your ear and sending shivers down your spine. You stiffened a bit under his touch, mind flashing back to the scene last night. “Hm?” Asmodeus nipped on your ear, curious at your response. You said nothing, trying to keep down the tears that were threatening to resurface again.

“I have to get to my internship soon,” you replied, standing up and gently but firmly pushing Asmodeus away. He seemed a bit confused by your actions, and you turned to face him, mouth opening. “Asmodeus, are you —” you cut off, the words not coming out. Are you ashamed to be seen around me? Were all those moments lies? Why did you bring that women to our house? Why — You closed your mouth, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t ask; you were too scared of the answers. “I just needed to grab something for my internship. I’ll be gone soon,” you forced out. Your boyfriend said nothing, grabbing your chin and tipping your head back for a kiss.

“See you later then, dear,” he smiled. You flushed and nodded, grabbing your work bag and leaving. It was moments like those that made you stay, the feeling that Asmodeus smiled for you and you alone, like you were the only important person in his life. It’d be okay, you told yourself, heart feeling lighter. Last night… you knew you shouldn’t, but you’d overlook it. Like how you overlooked everything else. Love made people fools, after all.

But it happened again. And then again. And again. It got worse. The signs were more obvious than before. Asmodeus would come home, smelling of perfume and the tell-tale signs of another women on him. Lipstick on his collar, or a slip of paper with a number on it in his pocket. He never brought back another women into your home, but you knew that he was still cheating. Continuously, you forgave him, busying yourself with your internship. But now, when Asmodeus kissed you, when he touched you, all you could see was the time when he had another women clinging on his shoulder. It hurt to be with him, but at the same time, it felt right. You hated how you continuously forgave him.

It was the little things that built up. The way that he pushed off dates, how he would only seem to kiss you and sleep with you to appease you, and how he never paid that much attention to you anymore. He started to be more possessive, demanding where you were when you went off to your internship or see Emily, despite him being the one cheating. It was too much. You wanted to be there for him, but sometimes, when you love someone, you have to let them go.

It hurt you. More than it would probably hurt Asmodeus, you figured. You just couldn’t take the heartache anymore, the butterflies that once happened when he kissed you dying away. You had fallen blindly and fast, like a fool, and still you loved him. But you needed to pick up the pieces of your broken heart and mend them together. How could you continue to love him when your heart had already shattered into a million pieces?

The letter was on the table; he would be sure to notice. You couldn’t do it face to face. If you saw his face, you would only end up breaking down right in front of him and crying. You had already contacted Emily, who agreed to let you stay with her until you found a new apartment. You breathed, taking in the place you shared with Asmodeus one last time, before taking your luggage and leaving.

Your heart did not feel any lighter after leaving. You still felt that constricting feeling in your heart, the little hitch in your breath, and the way your entire body ached when you thought of Asmodeus.

“I think you should’ve told him face to face,” Emily huffed. You only smiled sadly.

“I couldn’t have done it if I saw his face,” you admitted, sipping at a glass of wine carefully. Drinking your sorrows away was not the best idea, but all you wanted at the moment was to get drunk and not think about Asmodeus. The hangover next morning was going to be awful, but you didn’t care at the moment. “It’s just… our relationship was never equal. He had too much over me. I —” you tensed up at the thought, chugging the glass down and pouring yourself another. “The more I chased, the further he got. But it was worth it. I’m an idiot. A fool. I still — He was worth it.” By now, the tears were streaming down your face. You hiccuped, continuing. “Asmodeus is somewhere I can’t reach. He can easily push me away. The letter… it was my feelings for him, but also a farewell. I’m letting him go. I have to.”

Emily said nothing, only calmly pouring you another glass as you finished. She looked at you. “.... It’s been hard on you,” she commented softly. At that, you started bawling even harder, desperately trying to wipe the tears away.

“I—” you sobbed, “I thought that it would be over. Relationships all reach a stagnant stage, but in the end— I wasn’t enough. I never was.” You furiously wiped your eyes, but the tears still came down. Your friend watched, handing you tissues. You were grateful for Emily, glad that you had someone like her in your life. “I don’t regret it though. I—I wanted… to be with him,” you murmured. Emily sighed, giving you a concerned look.

She gripped your shoulder, giving you a little shake. “Alright, let’s not keep thinking about him. Y/N, you left him, and things will get better. Okay? The first step in a relationship is to care about yourself. You can’t love another if you can’t love yourself. Leaving Asmodeus was the right decision. He won’t be able to bother you anymore.”

A month had passed by. The thing is, when you miss someone, it’s not all at once. It’s at certain moments, their little habits and quirks, or when you realize that they’re not there to do something they would typically do. Far too many times you had remembered calling for Asmodeus to help reach something on the top shelf, or waited for his texts, only to realize that you had broken it off. But, time heals all wounds, and you slowly felt yourself recover. It was painful, slowly getting rid of Asmodeus’s presents and the pictures. You were content to just have your memories, or else the pain would still continue.

He hadn’t called, messaged you, or anything within the past month. You guessed that in the end, you really didn’t mean all that much to him. It hurt more than it should have. Regardless, you had to move on. You brushed your hair back, checking your outfit in the mirror. “Alright Y/N, you got this!” you told yourself, before grabbing your briefcase to hurry to your job interview. It was about time you started to further your biochemistry career. There was a recent opening for a researcher position in a nearby research laboratory, and it would be an upgrade from your current intern position. You mentally reviewed your research paper in your head, ready to impress your interviewer with all the work you had done.

You ducked into the coffe house that you had agreed to meet at, eyes immediately landing on a male dressed sharply in a suit. That must be the person. You strode over, a professional smile on your face, heart thumping nervously.

“Miss Y/N?” The man asked politely, fingers laced together. “I’m Purson. I’ll be interviewing you for the position of Research and Development Chemist. Let’s get started then.” With a deep breath, you nodded and sat down, confident and determined.

The interview had gone well. You calmed your jittery nerves, absentmindedly staring at the empty seat across from you. Purson had already left, telling you that the lab would be sending a follow-up email about your situation within a week’s time. You gathered up your stuff, ready to go back to Emily’s place and tell her about how your interview went. The second you left the shop though, your throat closed up.

What— what was he doing here? You looked around wildly, as if to check if there was another women around, but you were the only one outside on the streets right now. Asmodeus leaned against the hood of his car, eyes boring into yours. You shakily took a step back, clutching the strap of your bag tightly. You weren’t ready to see him again. A month passed, but seeing him again only reopened those wounds you had desperately tried to close. Deep breaths, you told yourself, swallowing and straightening up. You readied yourself, and started to walk to the bus station, only giving Asmodeus the slightest of nods, as if greeting a stranger.

You had hoped he would leave you alone, but Asmodeus always surprised you. He grabbed your arm, gently yet firmly, turning you around to face him. Before you could even say a word in retaliation, he pulled you into a hug, arms tightening around your waist.

“Hey Y/N,” he murmured, nuzzling into your hair. “How did the interview go? Haven’t seen you in a bit.” Confused and bewildered, you tried to shove Asmodeus away, though he didn’t budge at all. A chill ran down your spine. No one except for Emily knew about the interview. He was the last one that you expected to know. What did he think he was doing, coming back after a month after you cut it off with him?

“Asmodeus, I think you’re—” and before you could even finished, Asmodeus grabbed your arm, dragging you to his car and opening the door to gesture you to get in. You were about to move away, but Asmodeus only gave you a stare, firmly pushing you into the car and closing the door.

“You don’t want to make a scene here, do you?” he muttered lowly, threatening. You stiffened, afraid and bewildered.

You didn’t say anything at first, and then, resigned, quietly buckled yourself in. You would sort this out with him, you told yourself. You had no idea what kind of game Asmodeus was playing at, but this time, you wanted no part of it.

“You cut your hair,” he remarked as he got into the driver’s seat, reaching out to finger a strand. “I liked your hair long though.” You backed away as much as you could, turning away. You hated how your heart still beat faster upon seeing him. Asmodeus frowned at your rejection. “Where have you been for the past month?” he asked calmly, starting up the car and beginning to drive. You stared out the window, unsure of what to say. “Y/N,” he said, tone a bit more sharp, “I asked you a question.”

You bit your lip, perplexed. What were you supposed to say? He— You didn’t know anymore. You could only hope that things were going to end up alright. “Somewhere in the city. Nothing much,” you replied smoothly, hands balling into fists. You were angry, terrified, not wanting to see Asmodeus, and yet a small part of you was disgustingly delighted that Asmodeus had come. What kind of person were you? You wanted to scream.

“You didn’t come home for a while, I was worried.”

Why was he talking as if the two of you were still together? “Did you not see my letter?” you asked bitingly. Why was he here? How did he find out about your internship? There was no way Emily could have told him.

“I did.”

“Then why—!” you retorted, voice going up a notch. “Asmodeus, listen,” you cleared your throat, ready to tell him what you had been going through. “The letter was a farewell. I told you, I — I can’t be with you anymore. If you want to say that you were the one that dumped me, that’s fine, but — I,” your voice broke a bit, “I couldn’t do it anymore. I still can’t. Please, I don’t want to see you again. It’s over. Let the past be the past.” The car braked suddenly, and you yelped. What—?

Warm arms enveloped you. “Aw, is my girlfriend pouting?” Asmodeus asked. A sense of horror washed over you. “Here, look at me.” He leaned in, and with a burst of emotion, you pushed his face away.

“Asmodeus!” You unbuckled your seatbelt, about to open the car door.

“Oh, Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” he laughed, eyes dark and stormy. He gripped your hand, bringing over and planting a soft kiss on your knuckles. You flinched. What was he doing? Was he so delusional to still think that you were still together? Was he that upset you had left? There… there was no way.

“We’re over! I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to wait on someone who’s only going to find comfort with other women,” you cried sharply, tears starting to stream down your face. A tender thumb wiped the tears away, but you no longer found comfort in this. You didn’t want him here anymore.

He chuckled lowly, a smirk present on his face. “Darling, I think you were just upset. Here, I’ll make it up to you—”

You slapped him. For the first time in your life, you slapped someone. “Stop,” you forced out, mustering your strength to push Asmodeus away. And the thing is, it still hurt. It hurt so fucking much. It was like a chasm was being ripped open in your chest.A part of you wanted to believe him, the part of you that still pathetically believed Asmodeus wanted you back, but… “Listen Asmodeus. It’s over. I no longer want to see you. Just leave me as a memory.” Taking the moment, you flung open the car door, grabbing your things and leaving. It didn’t matter where, as long as you got away from the man you once lovingly called your boyfriend.

Asmodeus watched you leave, amused. He glanced at his hand, the one that had gripped yours only mere moments before, relishing in the hint of warmth. “Oh, don’t worry darling,” he purred, eyes flashing, “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

It was stupid, You were stupid, you told yourself as you downed another glass. The bartender looked over, concerned, but you were already so hammered that you could barely even register anything. You slumped on the bar countertop, trying not to cry. You didn’t want to tell Emily what had happened; how could you? She had already done so much for you, and making her worry was the last thing you wanted. It would be okay. You would just drink yourself into a coma and then forget about the world. Dazed, you closed your eyes and tried to will away the headache.

“Miss, are you alright?” the bartender asked softly, reaching a hand to shake your shoulders. Just as he was about to rouse you, a hand grabbed his.

“She’s alright,” a smooth voice reassured. You stirred slightly, the voice familiar in your memories. Who — who was it? The alcohol had slowed your senses down; you felt like you were viewing everything through a thick fog. You blinked, obediently following the gentle hand that had grabbed your waist and began leading you somewhere. With a small little murmur, you buried yourself into the body of heat next to you, taking comfort in the chuckle that reverberated through the person’s chest. “Dear, what happened?” Asmodeus asked, hand around your waist possessively.

“Mhm — was… upset,” you groaned out. Everything was sort of a blur. You barely registered you getting into a car, getting out, and then entering a house that certainly was not Emily’s. “W—where’re we?”

Asmodeus led you through the penthouse, threading his fingers through yours. “Our new home,” he replied proudly, watching you try to process everything with hooded eyes. You moaned, clutching your head. Everything was so… confusing. New home? That sounded wrong, but you couldn’t figure out why. “Hey, don’t worry about it darling,” Asmodeus comforted, pushing you down gently and placing his lips on yours. “I’m here.” You felt yourself relax at his voice, sinking into pleasure. Yes… you knew this person, you surmised. He was comfortable, but why… was there a feeling of dread?

“Wh—who are you?” you slurred. Asmodeus smirked, guiding your hand to rest on his arousal. You flushed, alarm bells going off in your head, but too weak to change your mind. Asmodeus brought you closer, hand edging to the hem of your shirt.

“Your boyfriend,” he whispered, his other hand trailing down your back. You blubbered around clumsily as you heard him say that, emotions taking a complete turn. Tears sprang to the corner of your eyes, and you clutched at Asmodeus’s shirt, shaking a bit.

“I don’t have one!” you wailed, shaking Asmodeus slightly. He watched you, amused. He didn’t seem surprised at how quickly your emotions changed, chalking it up to the fact that you were drunk. “He cheated! Was I not good enough for him? I left him!!!” you continued your rant, the alcohol in your system causing you to unleash your true feelings. Just as you were going to continue, Asmodeus surged forward, lips pressing intently onto yours. You clutched at his shoulders, heart pounding wildly as he traced your lower lip, before gently teasing your tongue.

He grabbed your thigh harshly, causing you to wince. “You were always his.” Asmodeus smirked as he gently trailed a finger over your folds, and you lost yourself to the pleasure.

“Mhm, not a good idea,” you groaned, reaching blindly for your phone to check the time. Your entire body ached, head pounding, and you cursed yourself for drinking to forget your troubles, even if temporary. Your throat was dry, and as you sat up, the room spun. There was a soft sensation on your waist, causing you to look down. Goodness, you had gotten so drunk that you ended up having a one-night-stand?

“Morning, Y/N.” Asmodeus smiled up at you, hands around your hip, holding onto you firmly. You felt a cold wave of nausea wash over you, head immediately feeling clearer. There was a lump of dread in your stomach.

This was a mistake. What happened? You actually ended up sleeping with Asmodeus again? You tore the bed covers off, mind panicking even more once you realized the state of undress you were in, and the unfamiliar surroundings. “I—I have to go,” you winced, trying to get out of bed. Asmodeus growled lowly, hold on you tightening. Within a split second, he flipped you over, your face pressed onto a pillow as Asmodeus gripped your arms.

“Y/N, where do you think you’re going?” he cooed, leaning down to breathe gently on the nape of your neck. You shivered. “You left before. You can’t just leave me alone again. Darling, how could you?” You flinched, wanting to scream. He was the one that cheated on you! Why was he — “You know, out of everyone, I love you most. Your body, the way that you writhe in pleasure when I hit the right spot, the dazed look in your eyes, the way that you would cling to me as if I was your lifeline…” You flushed, thrashing to no avail. Why was he saying these things? “Y/N, you can’t leave whenever you please. You’re mine you know. I even brought you to our new home. You’ll like it here, I promise. And—” he bent down to bite your neck, marking you, “I’ll be here.”

“Stop—” you forced out, anger growing in you. “I can’t take this anymore. I told you before, it’s over.” You tried to violently twist out of Asmodeus’s grip, but he gripped harder, and you cried out in pain. “Asmodeus, stop!— Ah!”

“Y/N, you never had the decision. You always belonged to me. You have no idea how much I crave for you,” Asmodeus whispered, shifting so you could feel his weight on your back. You bit your lip, trying to stop another moan from escaping as Asmodeus gently fingered your walls, watching your reaction with careful eyes. It was wrong, but your body instinctively relaxed at his touch.

“You—another woman,” you forced out, gripping the bed sheets tightly. Your heart hurt, but your body felt the pleasure. You tried not to cry, wondering why such a thing was happening to you. You left him already, why was he back? You didn’t want to go through such an experience again.

Asmodeus left a mark on your shoulder, moving over to the other one and sucking at it tenderly. “I realized you were the only one for me,” he murmured into your skin, hands gripping at your waist even tighter. It was going to leave bruises, you thought. “The others aren’t like you; you never cared about my status or the money. They don’t react to me like you do. They don’t satisfy me like you do,” he hummed softly. You tensed up, not wanting to hear any of it. In the end, they were probably all lies.

“L—let me go,” you sobbed softly, burying your face into the pillow. “I don’t — I don’t love you anymore.” Asmodeus was silent, before roughly thrusting his fingers even deeper into you. You cried out, startled as he flipped you onto your back to stare at you with lust-filled eyes.

“Y/N,” he whispered, a smirk appearing on his face, “Don’t lie to yourself. Don’t lie to me. I can feel you; I can tell. You still love me. You always have.” You adamantly shook your head furiously, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see him. Asmodeus acting like this was terrifying; he was keeping you here without your consent. You just wanted to forget him and leave. “Y/N, look at me,” he growled, placing a firm hand around your throat, squeezing gently as a warning.

You blinked your tears away, staring at your ex-boyfriend. His gaze softened, and he leaned in to kiss you. You obediently opened your mouth, fear still in your heart. Why was he acting like this?

“Stay here,” he said, biting at your neck possessively. “Y/N, you’re never leaving again. I let you go for one month, but I need you by my side. Forever, always.” He stared at you intensely. “I’ll satisfy you, so just lose yourself in me.”

#yandere #yandereoc #yandere oc #tw noncon #yandere x reader #y/n #oc #fem reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #oneshot #yandere oc x reader #obsessive #possessive #yandere love #read

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tokidokitrash · 4 years

Text

I’ve never written a fic before (ok maybe when I was like 13) and I was just struggling a little mentally tonight. It’s a Long rambling off the Top of my head and it’s not gonna be any good but I tried. I would appreciate any constructive criticism you’d shoot my way.

It did help me feel better after writing this, so that’s a silver lining:D

I know the mysme fandom is kinda not as strong as it used to be, but reading other people’s fics really brightened my day, since I’m always on my own due to work.

I had this set as a longer timeline compared to the limited days in the game, and my MC clearly struggles with her own inner depression demons,

Sorry in advance about some stuff further down. I couldn’t help myself.

Italics are either MC’s thoughts or flashbacks.

———————————————————————————————

The way we are - 01

Dreadful, depreciating thoughts slowly crept their way into your thoughts, almost like they bore down on the back of your tightly shut eyes.

‘Not this again...’ you mentally scold yourself.

It had been a few weeks since your last battle. The constant struggle you fought deep within you- one only you knew about.

No one knew. No one could ever know. No one would be able to accept you. No one would be able to help either ways.

You curled yourself into a little huddle on your bed. The air-conditioner wasn’t on, leading the air to a standstill. It was suffocating, the stagnancy. But honestly, you couldn’t be bothered with the discomfort.

‘Stagnant air... stagnant just like my life has been...’

You chastised yourself again, me talking rolling your eyes at yourself, this time for being such a dramatic little bitch in your own little mind.

You hated yourself.

Things were actually getting better these past few weeks. You had the RFA and managing their affairs kept you solidly occupied.

Truthfully, that fateful day you encountered them, and they laid out the opportunity to you to help them be their new coordinator, you mentally leapt with joy at the chance.

Yes, the whole thing was pretty fishy, bogus, weird.

But you’d craved and relished the idea that you could be of some help to a greater cause. Your heart soared at the thought of being of use to someone.

It did come as a plus that the members of this new group were all such...unique personalities.

The lively, dramatic, narcissistic but caring Zen.

The adorable, innocent, wide-eyed Yoosung.

The strong and (seriously) overworked Jaehee.

The stern, calculative business man with the strangest streak of humour, Jumin.

And the mysterious hacker with the flaming red hair, the one whom you’d always felt you could ‘click’ with best, the one you were most attracted to,707.

In their own way, they lit up your life, the way they seemed to always be concerned with your wellbeing, peppering your day with their funny arguments and conversations.

Then shit hit the fan, didn’t it?

It had already been a few days since the whole ordeal with ‘Unknown’. It’s events still played fresh in your mind, but yet right now, they seemed so very far away.

Seven had come to your rescue, but since that day, he’s been anything but a knight in shining armour.

Before the incident, you both had so much fun through the limited calls to each other and the chat.

You felt warm feelings towards Seven blossom in your chest every time you heard his voice. And with the way he seemed to flirt back with you, you had the slightest impression that maybe, just maybe, he was interested in you too.

It felt so nice to banter with him, to feel some sort of electric connection between you two.

But these days, it seems that the happy-go-lucky, capable 707 was gone.

The other day, he even lashed out at Yoosung, who called you, distraught and crying over the incident.

You’ve tried to be strong, you understood that whatever transpired that day must have triggered Seven towards reacting this way. Constantly pushing you away, harshly berating you for leaving his sight, then berating you once more for coming too close to him. You wanted to be here for him, to let him know you cared for him more deeply then he knew and you’d accept and like to hear his story. You’d like to think of yourself as capable of helping provide comfort and reassurance to this beautiful mess of a man, despite whatever attitude shocking revelations of danger he may throw at you.

The key word here, is that you ‘tried’.

And sometimes, life gives you so much lemons, you get really sick of fucking lemonade.

You haven’t really left the room for about...maybe 2 days now, you estimate. Only sneaking out for essentials when you didn’t hear typing and it seemed that maybe Seven was asleep. Wallowing in your self-hatred, you think about the things you’ve wanted to accomplish and how you’ve failed them all.

Dammit, even the man you were so into seems to hate you now- and why shouldn’t he?

Depression had sinked her filthy claws into your heart once again, and though you may have won that battle against her before, you knew, deep in the recess of your mind, she was always waiting to crawl back out.

You hated every fibre of your being. Some days you’d wonder why you were even alive. What did you exist for? Even replying the emails from potential guests seem a chore too monumental right now. Why should they care about your invites? You’d ponder over what to send them, then delete everything you’ve typed out of fear you were being out of line or plain stupid, giving the RFA a bad name. Then you’d start to hate yourself more for letting the guests wait on your reply, get more upset with your own inefficiency. It was a vicious cycle in your mind, and it was always tough to break out of it.

You’ve managed before, and kept a happy persona in your interactions with the members. And that’s what you tried to do for Seven, even as he was scowling away, brows scrunched up in frustration at either his computer, or your mere presence. Either way, he let you know you were an annoyance he couldn’t be bothered to entertain.

And you started believing him.

So you’ve locked yourself away in your room. This was your problem to deal with. Your demons to face. You found a small comfort in hearing Seven typing away in the living room. It was odd, but knowing he was there made you feel safe...but so unwanted.

‘Come on MC... you’re a tough girl, so tough this one out. Yes you’re pathetic and there’s nothing more you hate in this world but yourself, but snap out of it.... please... happythoughtshappythoughtshappythoughtskittenspuppies..seven’svoiceandjokesandthoughtsoftakingyoutothemoon...’

Growling in frustration, you pull the pillow over your head and tried to scream into it, only to end up sobbing uncontrollably. Why were you like this? It’s so illogical...so, so stupid.

If only you could force yourself to be happy and cheery.

But admittedly, Seven’s attitude and coldness towards you really shut that cheery side of you down, faster than you’d like to admit.

You recall the freshest wounds he had inflicted upon you... you had tried to talk to him, as he seemed a little nicer that morning, despite being extremely sleep deprived, giving you a nod when you brought him coffee, and didn’t tell you off when you went to sit near him. You had wanted to express a little gratitude for how hard he was working for your sake.

—————

“Hey, Seven... thank you for working so hard fo-

‘“I’m just going to stop you there, you don’t have to say anything to me. You can just leave me alone.”’

“Aish~! I know that~! You’ve said that before, I just wanna thank you- you’re going to hurt my feelings you know” you pout, trying to stay light-hearted.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples upon hearing this. Sighing loudly, he adds;

“I don’t care about how you feel at all. I can’t be bothered if you’re hurt. I’m busy and don’t have time for this, so stop bothering me already!”’

“ I just-‘

‘“ just leave me alone.”’

You weren’t sure what made you decide to do this, but you whine quietly, feeling defeated, and perhaps this was actually a last ditch attempt to see if he cared.

“Seven...I’m going to start crying if you keep being so mean to me..”

He pauses, then he shifts in your direction,stony faced, cold liquid gold eyes bearing into your own brown eyes.

‘“Even if you cry, it doesn’t really matter to me.”’

Hearing that, you flashed him the best smile you could manage, hoping your pain wasn’t too obvious, muttered a few apologies and excused yourself to your room.

————-

...you were scared too, after the whole incident. But it seems he truly did not care about how you felt, like he hardly gave it any thought. like you were only a problem he had to fix ASAP to get a move on his life.

——————————————————-

Hours had probably passed when you jolt awake to a knock on your door.

“Oi, MC.” he starts in an annoyed tone “Are you okay? I tried calling you but your phone is dead. What are you doing in there for so long anyway?”

You weren’t sure what time it was, but you knew it must have been quite awhile if Mr cold-and-I-don’t-care-about-you was checking up on you. The room was dark, air still stale. Picking up your phone, you realise you haven’t checked it since the start of your mental battle. Yes, it was dead.

“MC?” You thought maybe you picked up a hint of worry though all that irritation this time. “.....I’m coming in.”

‘Wait what? Nonono did I lock the bloody door? He can’t see me like this I-‘

You bolt up from the bed, nearly tripping on your sheets as you rushed for the door, but you were a beat too slow, and the door was already ajar before your hand could touch the handle.

Golden irises pierce your gaze as your eyes adjusted to the invading light from outside your room, he pauses for a moment and his eyes seem to widen in shock at the sight of you...and your probably very disheveled appearance.

Hurriedly, you press your body against the back of the door, holding , preventing it from opening any further.

“MC?!” He called as he tried to peek his head past the door’s opening to get a better look at you.

You cleared your dry and raspy throat before finally replying the redhead-

“AHHHHh Seven! Geez, don’t you know that you’re supposed to give a lady more time to respond?! You can’t just open doors so suddenly you gave me such a start! Nearly let you see me all horrid looking after taking a nap ahaha ha”

Good lord you hope you sounded convincing, and not at all like you’ve been crying for the last godknowshowlong.

Seven goes quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air still hangs over you two. You notice one of his hands shift and holds onto the door frame as he steadily starts to push the door towards you. Trying your utmost best but failing to be lighthearted, you yelped and tried to swat his hand away, still fervently trying to push the door back against his force.

“Holddddup what are you doing Seveny stop trying to open the door! Didn’t you hear what I said???”

“I heard you. But I said I’m.coming.in.”

He pushes the door harder and you know you’re no match for his strength, and in a last ditch attempt to hide your appearance from him you grab a large towel you had hanging behind your door, wrap it over your head, letting it drape down your shoulders and dash for the corner of the room behind the door. You squat down, huddled in your new corner, and you hear Seven cuss when the door gives way easily at your absence, causing him to stumble into the room. Hearing him cuss a bit more, you sense his gaze sweeping the room, before feeling them land upon your huddled up frame at the corner. There’s a long pause before he quietly asks, incredulously

“..........MC, wh-what are you doing over there”

“I told you I was indecent looking now.... so I’m just going to stay in this corner since you so rudely barged in.” You quipped. Your choice of words may sound harsh but you say them in a sing-song manner. Seven just stays quiet after your reply, which leads you to ramble on, hoping to fill the silence

“So, uh, what’s up? Did you miss me? Come here cuz you’re missing little old me? Ahahhaha or did you manage to find something about this whole....shenanigan? Anyways a-aren’t you busy and all? I won’t bother you anymore so y-you don’t have to worry about me either ahhahaha...hahahah”

I sound insane.

You hear him sigh loudly, again, and it kind of reminds you of how your parents used to sigh at you when you were a disappointment. He mutters under his breath sometimes that’s sounds like ‘fucks sake’ and it cuts you off from your ramblings. You can’t stop the tears from springing to your eyes. You were still hurting, still wallowing. Trying to hide whatever negativity by being weird and using your own brand of humour. And now he was real, in your room and invading your space, you could feel your mind trying to come up with something, anything to avoid possible questions and maybe get him to leave.

“What’s all this? You’re being real weird now, hiding in that corner. I’ve seen you after your naps and you don’t usually look like....that. Turn around and face me, MC.”

You take a deep breathe through your nose, your way of stifling your sniffs from new tears,

“Ahhh you’re so indelicate, I can’t turn to face you, so uh why don’t you just wait outside and I’ll come out when I’m ready?”

“And when will that be? Talk to me MC. Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Yaaaa Please God Seven, have mercy and give this lady a chance to *sniff* prep herself first”

You could almost hear him rolling his eyes at you, when he says

“Get out of the corner before I drag you out. Seriously, what are you even doing? “

Given his snappiness, you wouldn’t be surprised if he acted out his threat. But his question gave you a chance to exhibit your messed up coping mechanism.

“What am I doing? Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m not hiding myself, I’m prepping for my next cosplay.”

“HAH??” In a very, very annoyed tone.

“Here, look. “

In that moment, you slowly turned your body to face him, and put your hands down on the floor, still in a squatting position but with your hands between your knees. Towel still draped across your head and shoulder, you whisper in a low, slow voice,

“E.......Ed........Edward.....................Nii-san”

“..............’’

“GODDAMMIT MC “

Seven’s loud, booming shout really startles you, as you realise he’s left the room. You started to worry you’ve made him real angry this time, and wait for more cussing and shouting.....only to hear cussing and...laughter? His laughter grows, and soon he’s bellowing, and the raucous peals of laughter is music to your ears actually. Even though you’re still hurt from his words and demeanour, you’ve come to realise the effect this gorgeous man has on you, and it warms your heart a little that you’ve managed to make him laugh for the first time in a Long, Long time. He’s still cackling when you waddle towards the door, still covered mainly by the room’s darkness, peek out at him but with your body still in the same position.

“Hey man” you catch his attention and he stares at you, wiping tears away from his eyes “that’s not cool- that scene wasn’t funny at all in the anime-god you shouldn’t be laughing at this.”

Seven has his hands on his knees as you send him into another mini laughing fit.

You stay like this for awhile, feeling a little better after making 707 laugh, despite it not being your original plan at all. You hoped he’d have forgotten all about how you looked and how you ardently tried to hide from him the fact you’ve been a mess these last 2 days.

Now it just feels a little bittersweet. This whole thing is quite similar to how you’ve always dealt with hiding your hurt and pain from others, and a teeny, tiny part of you was sad that you felt the need to hide your feelings and emotions from the guy you adored.

Deep down, you wanted his comfort, but yet, was too afraid to seek it out.

You were now convinced that Seven perhaps truly had no feelings for you other than just as a ‘member of RFA’.

“Anyways...god Seven?”You whispered quietly once his laughter completely dies down. He looks up, having taken off his glasses to wipe his tears again.

“Ah?” He mutters breathlessly, looking at you through his fringe.

You realise you have it real bad, as this sight of him makes your breathe hitch a little and your heart beat faster. You will thoughts of him away as you continue

“I’m going to go and wash up, then um, head to bed now....“ you shift your hands to grip the towel’s ends, making it cover more of your face. Seven seems to notice how tightly you’re gripping the towel, and patiently waits for you to speak as your struggle to find the words.

“..I’m sorry about the other day, today. Well. Everyday. I hope you feel a little better... good night, okay? Take care of yourself, Remember to eat and sleep and I’ll just be here I Guess an—“

you stop yourself. You were rambling again. Pointless rambles. You forced a small smile, internally dying as you were now telling yourself to give up these feelings, bid him good night once more, and gently shut the door.

—————————————————

I’m sorry about the joke again. I had the idea and I couldn’t put it down.

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ecoamerica · 23 days

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youtube

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vipclifford · 5 years

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Dazed and Confused pt.5

masterlist for dazed and confused

Calum laid in his bed, curtains drawn despite it being 4pm, duvet covering his tall body. He was on his side, facing the wall, letting the seconds pass by. A buzz from his phone made him check the device instantly, brows furrowing when he saw it was Noah.

Noaaaah: wanna go down to the beach and take the first swim of the year? no, it’s not too cold, and yes, i know going down to the beach in may sounds unspeakable to your aussie ass. i’ll pick you up in 30, i’ll bring snacks :)) x

He read the message over and over, fingers debating what to type back.

Cal: sorry, i have a fever. maybe some other day.

Noaaaah: okay. get well soon, baby. need anything? x

Calum: no thanks, i’m fine.

He closed the chat after that, uninterested in any further conversation. His thumb lingered over the chat with his mother, chest tightened as he remembered what was within it. ‘Read 23/05.’ His own mother had ignored his coming out text, and hasn’t contacted Calum since. None of the annoying Bible quotes he now missed lit up his phone. No phone call every other day flashed through his screen. There was nothing.

The bedroom door opened abruptly, Michael’s characteristic steps sounding through the room on his way to sit down at the end of Calum’s bed. He didn’t make a move to turn away from the wall.

“I brought some food for your lazy ass,” he informed, setting the tray he stole from the cafeteria onto his nightstand.

“M’not hungry.”

“But you’ve not eaten all day,” he countered, brows furrowing in concern. “At least have a little.”

“I’m not hungry,” he repeated, voice coarse. “I have the flu.”

Michael was silent for the next few seconds, hand moving to rub Calum’s arm sympathetically.

“Is it Noah?”

“I’m just feeling ill, Mike.”

“You do know you don’t have to face everything on your own? I’m here, your friends are here, your boyfriend’s here, your family is here,” he began, all of Calum’s energy being put towards not snorting at the last part. “We’re all here for whatever you’re going through.”

“It’s just a fever,” Calum insisted. “It’ll pass.”

With a supportive squeeze to his arm and a mumbled ‘fine,’ Calum was once again left on his own. Not that he minded, he had made it very clear to everyone that he wanted to be alone.

He sat up and pulled out his laptop from under the bed, opening that word document that had been terrorising him for the past week. The deadline was tonight and it was still as blank as his mind in that moment. He stared at the screen for hours, occasionally writing a few point which he knew weren’t worth a pass but at least it was something.

His door creaked open, Calum looking up from his laptop to see that messy head of hair and dimpled smile he loved.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled, shutting the laptop.

“I wanted to find out why you’ve been locking yourself in your room for the past four days,” Noah explained, sitting down on the edge of Calum’s bed.

“I told you, I’m sick,” he lied, setting the laptop back under his bed.

“Bullshit.”

“You should probably go, I don’t want you to catch it,” Calum said quietly a few seconds later, chest tightening at the look of hurt in his boyfriend’s green eyes.

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

Calum chose not to reply, instead laying back down and pulling the duvet cover up to his ears, facing the wall. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to fall asleep to escape the world around him. Noah stared at Calum for a few minutes unsure of how to react to his behaviour. He took of his shoes before sliding into bed with him, arms wrapping around Calum’s torso to hold his boyfriend close. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder, anything to silently comfort him.

They laid together in silence, Calum quietly enjoying his boyfriend’s loving caresses or kisses to his skin.

“I came out to my mum,” Calum murmured a few minutes later.

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything,” he told him quietly, throat closing up with a need to cry. “She read my message and hasn’t replied since, Noah. She always texts me every day. She always calls me at night, unless I tell her I’m busy, to ask me how my day was. She won’t even send me those fucking Bible quotes I hate. She’s so disgusted by me she won’t even talk to me.”

Tears he had tried so hard to not let fall were trailing down his cheeks by this point, seemingly unwilling to stop. Noah tried to roll Calum onto his back so he could face him, the boy putting all of his energy into counteracting his action. He didn’t want Noah to see him like this.

“If you think about it, I guess things can only go up from here.”

Calum shook his head vigorously at his boyfriend’s attempt at comforting him, finally turning around to face him. Noah’s heart broke upon seeing his bloodshot eyes, dark circles and trails of tears down his face. Calum refused to meet his eyes.

“No, Noah, it actually can’t only go up from here. It can remain stagnant for a while, couple years where my family ignores me for being gay. Then I’ll start missing important milestones and I’ll have nobody to share mine with. I will be completely alone, Noah. For the rest of my life I will be completely alone.”

“Baby,” Noah murmured, slowly moving his arm over his chest to hold him again. “You’re not alone, okay? Have you told your sister? Your father? The rest of your family? You and I both know for a fact that these people love you so fucking much, and that they will support you. Hell, your own mother loves you so fucking much. I don’t think she would be able to spend a lifetime without her favourite boy. And you know it. I know how shit this all is right now and I know that it feels like the end of the world, but eventually, all of your problems will find their place and just kind of disappear.”

Calum just looked at Noah, his mind too stressed and tired to come up with a response. Then he rolled closer, hiding his head in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around Noah’s torso to hug him tightly. Noah’s hand softly rubbed his back seeking to comfort him.

For the first time in a few days, Calum slept.

tags: @rainingcalum @aftermidnightclifford @alongcamethedevil @5sobsessed

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thewritenerd · 4 years

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This Life and the Other

(I’ll be posting what I write for nanowrimo here every day (minus any big spoilers)

‘And you’re really suggesting we go there?’ I asked Lalita. She shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be my first choice I’ll admit. But as it seems to be our only choice.’ ‘We’ll have to take the chance.’ Ronnie finished. Aiden looked uncertain but he still nodded. ‘I hate to say you’re right but you’re right,’ he sighed. ‘We’ll have to be very careful. Maybe case the joint first.’ ‘Isn’t that what criminals do?’ Cam asked. ‘Technically we’re planning on breaking and entering so.’ Iesha said grinning at them. Aiden came over to the sofas and sat down next to Ronnie. ‘Who would be best for keeping watch?’ he asked. We all looked around at each other. ‘Well Lalita would be good,’ Ronnie suggested. ‘She could alter people’s memories if they start to notice whoever we send.’ ‘He could you mean.’ Lalita corrected him.

‘Oh Sorry Lala.’ ‘Any way back to our planning I think we should send Saren.’ Iesha said pointing to me. ‘His mind reading could really come in handy.’ ‘I have been practicing.’ I admitted. ‘On my friends in the sanctuary.’ I added seeing Cam’s horrified expression. Aiden nodded. ‘That’s good. And I suppose we’d better send one more person.’ He looked round before his eyes settled on Cam. ‘We should send Cam. They probably have the best memory of all of us, plus they can run back here with updates using their speed.’ Ronnie raised an eyebrow. ‘Cam, Lalita and Saren working together. Now that I’d like to see.’ I exchanged glances with Cam. In the past few weeks are relationship had been stagnant. It wasn’t that we hated each other. Or at least I didn’t hate them. But they didn’t exactly trust me and that little detail tended to get on my nerves. Still if it’s for the greater good I supposed working with them wouldn’t be too bad. Plus if Lalita would be there to keep them in check. ‘So it’s decided then,’ Aiden announced. ‘For the next week Cam, Lalita and Saren will keep an eye on the entrance to the Pound.’ ‘And do you know where the Pound is?’ I asked. ‘Yes it’s not far from here,’ Lalita said. ‘Probably why this hideout was empty.’ ‘Well that’s convenient.’ I grumbled. He smiled at me. ‘I suppose it is,’ he admitted. ‘We’ll no point complaining about convenience.’ Iesha said. ‘The sooner you start the better so you better start today.’ Aiden nodded. ‘Iesha’s right you to should head over there right now.’

***

We hid behind a low wall across the street from the entrance to the Pound. The Pound itself was a large building that looked like a mix between a factory and a prison. The prison part I could understand, it was a place for keeping people locked up after all, but the factory part confused me. I pointed this out to Lalita and Cam. ‘It does seem an odd design choice,’ Lalita admitted. ‘But never mind that, we’re here to keep an eye on the place not critique their architecture choices.’ ‘You say that like we can’t do both.’ Cam joked. When Cam jokes they don’t really smile or use a jokey tone. It’s more somewhere between snarky and matter of fact, and they frown a little less. I swear that kids going to have permanent frown lines by the time he’s 18 at this rate. Shifting a little to get more comfortable I began to wonder how much longer it would take to see someone or something that made this all worthwhile. The spot we had chosen kept us well hidden and we had a good view, but it wasn’t comfortable. It had rained at some point last night, or maybe it was early this morning, and the ground was still damp. There was also the matter of how to sit so you could see over the wall and still be able to duck behind it if necessary. Although we were the smallest three of our little group, a factor that had been pure coincidence, we still had trouble hiding. The best option seemed to be kneeling but that tended to hurt after a while. Sitting was another option but we either had to sit facing the wall, which made ducking quickly difficult. Or we could sit with our backs to the wall, which made ducking easier as we could just lean forward but in order to see the Pound we had to twist our upper torso which was painful. We all found ourselves shifting position on a regular basis which could get distracting. Occasionally I’d give a quick sweep of people’s minds to make sure no one was getting suspicious. Not that there were many people around and most of them had more important things to worry about than three teenagers hiding behind a wall and staring at a building. ‘Saren are you seeing this?’ Lalita asked interrupting my latest mind sweep. I looked where he was pointing and saw a large black vehicle with the words Mutant Control Unit printed on the side in yellow. The vehicle looked like a truck but had small square windows along the side. It stopped outside the gates and one of the security guards walked over to the driver’s side. The driver leaned out and said something to the guard who nodded and walked round to the back of the truck. Pulling himself up using handles on the side of the truck he stood on a metal strip that stuck out from the back of the truck and peered through the windows in the back; before hopping back off and walking back to the driver’s side. He said a few more words to the driver before turning to face a small booth where another guard sat waiting and giving him a nod. The man in the booth did something I couldn’t quite make out and the gates swung open allowing the truck to drive through. ‘They must have caught some more mutants,’ Lalita whispered his voice shaking. ‘Well there’s nothing we can do about that now.’ Cam replied in what I guessed was an attempt to reassure him. They turned back to look at the gate a thoughtful expression on their face. ‘But at least we’ve learnt one thing, those gates are so slow I could probably run in there before they open and back out before they close.’ ‘They’ll spot you if you just run in and out.’ I pointed out. ‘No they won’t I run faster than the human eye can see.’ ‘The camera will still see you you glogger brain.’ ‘Who are you calling a globber brain?’ ‘No one, I called you a glogger brain.’ ‘What the fuck even is that.’ ‘It’s a type of animal from my home planet. It sort of looks like one of your slugs but less slimy. It’s the size of a cat and has greyish pink skin. And they’re not very bright. Hence why I called you a glogger brain.’ ‘Can you two stop?’ Lalita sighed standing up. ‘Hey where are you going?’ Cam asked. ‘I’m going to get something to eat. We’ve been here long enough it’s probably lunch time and I need to stretch my legs. Please don’t murder each other while I’m gone.’ With that she started walking off leaving the two of us alone. ‘Wouldn’t it be quicker if you’d gone?’ I asked Cam. ‘It would. But there’s always a chance I’d get something he can’t eat.’ I wasn’t sure what they meant by that. ‘Does he have allergies or…’ Cam shook their head. ‘No nothing like that. It’s more of a sensory thing caused by them being autistic.’ ‘Yeah I heard him mention that. It has something to do with his brain right?’ ‘Yes. But you’re better of asking him the questions not me. He understands it more after all.’ I guess that made sense. Everything had returned to it’s previous slow and boring ways as we continued to keep watch. ‘Maybe we should play a game,’ I joked. ‘Like what?’ Cam asked shifting into a new position. ‘I don’t know? What’s that game where people try to guess what you’re looking at? I see was it?’ ‘I spy? There’s no way I’m playing that with a psychic, you could cheat.’ ‘I wouldn’t.’ ‘Or so you say.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Gee paranoid much. Why don’t you trust me? Especially over something so small.’ ‘Because I’m paranoid.’ I stared at them waiting for an explanation. They sighed and tilted their head so their chin pointed towards me. ‘I’m paranoid. As in I have paranoia. And mood swings and I see things that aren’t even there. And don’t ask me what’s wrong with me ‘cause all I’ve got is a list of symptoms and no diagnosis.’ I looked at them thinking. What they said explained quite a bit. Their struggle to trust me, the fact they could be fine one moment and snapping at everyone the next, and it explained why their eyes kept looking over your shoulder or to the side as if they’d seen something move. ‘So you don’t trust me enough to play I spy with you but you’re happy to share that bit of personal information?’ ‘My brain has invented its own logic.’ They shrugged. I was about to make a comment when I spotted Lalita heading towards us. ‘Finally I’m starving.’ I said as he sat down and started passing out the food he had brought back. As we ate not much happened across the road. Occasionally a truck would drive in or out, other times it would be a normal looking car. Probably Hunters going to and from work I thought. Thinking about hunters having a life outside of work. They had homes and family’s. What did their husbands and wives say when they came home? “Welcome home honey did you have a good day throwing kids into vans and taking them to a prison factory where they’ll be locked up?” ‘Oh Sorry Lala.’ ‘Any way back to our planning I think we should send Saren.’ Iesha said pointing to me. ‘His mind reading could really come in handy.’ ‘I have been practicing.’ I admitted. ‘On my friends in the sanctuary.’ I added seeing Cam’s horrified expression. Aiden nodded. ‘That’s good. And I suppose we’d better send one more person.’ He looked round before his eyes settled on Cam. ‘We should send Cam. They probably have the best memory of all of us, plus they can run back here with updates using their speed.’ Ronnie raised an eyebrow. ‘Cam, Lalita and Saren working together. Now that I’d like to see.’ I exchanged glances with Cam. In the past few weeks are relationship had been stagnant. It wasn’t that we hated each other. Or at least I didn’t hate them. But they didn’t exactly trust me and that little detail tended to get on my nerves. Still if it’s for the greater good I supposed working with them wouldn’t be too bad. Plus if Lalita would be there to keep them in check. ‘So it’s decided then,’ Aiden announced. ‘For the next week Cam, Lalita and Saren will keep an eye on the entrance to the Pound.’ ‘And do you know where the Pound is?’ I asked. ‘Yes it’s not far from here,’ Lalita said. ‘Probably why this hideout was empty.’ ‘Well that’s convenient.’ I grumbled. He smiled at me. ‘I suppose it is,’ he admitted. ‘We’ll no point complaining about convenience.’ Iesha said. ‘The sooner you start the better so you better start today.’ Aiden nodded. ‘Iesha’s right you to should head over there right now.’

***

We hid behind a low wall across the street from the entrance to the Pound. The Pound itself was a large building that looked like a mix between a factory and a prison. The prison part I could understand, it was a place for keeping people locked up after all, but the factory part confused me. I pointed this out to Lalita and Cam. ‘It does seem an odd design choice,’ Lalita admitted. ‘But never mind that, we’re here to keep an eye on the place not critique their architecture choices.’ ‘You say that like we can’t do both.’ Cam joked. When Cam jokes they don’t really smile or use a jokey tone. It’s more somewhere between snarky and matter of fact, and they frown a little less. I swear that kids going to have permanent frown lines by the time he’s 18 at this rate. Shifting a little to get more comfortable I began to wonder how much longer it would take to see someone or something that made this all worthwhile. The spot we had chosen kept us well hidden and we had a good view, but it wasn’t comfortable. It had rained at some point last night, or maybe it was early this morning, and the ground was still damp. There was also the matter of how to sit so you could see over the wall and still be able to duck behind it if necessary. Although we were the smallest three of our little group, a factor that had been pure coincidence, we still had trouble hiding. The best option seemed to be kneeling but that tended to hurt after a while. Sitting was another option but we either had to sit facing the wall, which made ducking quickly difficult. Or we could sit with our backs to the wall, which made ducking easier as we could just lean forward but in order to see the Pound we had to twist our upper torso which was painful. We all found ourselves shifting position on a regular basis which could get distracting. Occasionally I’d give a quick sweep of people’s minds to make sure no one was getting suspicious. Not that there were many people around and most of them had more important things to worry about than three teenagers hiding behind a wall and staring at a building. ‘Saren are you seeing this?’ Lalita asked interrupting my latest mind sweep. I looked where he was pointing and saw a large black vehicle with the words Mutant Control Unit printed on the side in yellow. The vehicle looked like a truck but had small square windows along the side. It stopped outside the gates and one of the security guards walked over to the driver’s side. The driver leaned out and said something to the guard who nodded and walked round to the back of the truck. Pulling himself up using handles on the side of the truck he stood on a metal strip that stuck out from the back of the truck and peered through the windows in the back; before hopping back off and walking back to the driver’s side. He said a few more words to the driver before turning to face a small booth where another guard sat waiting and giving him a nod. The man in the booth did something I couldn’t quite make out and the gates swung open allowing the truck to drive through. ‘They must have caught some more mutants,’ Lalita whispered his voice shaking. ‘Well there’s nothing we can do about that now.’ Cam replied in what I guessed was an attempt to reassure him. They turned back to look at the gate a thoughtful expression on their face. ‘But at least we’ve learnt one thing, those gates are so slow I could probably run in there before they open and back out before they close.’ ‘They’ll spot you if you just run in and out.’ I pointed out. ‘No they won’t I run faster than the human eye can see.’ ‘The camera will still see you you glogger brain.’ ‘Who are you calling a globber brain?’ ‘No one, I called you a glogger brain.’ ‘What the fuck even is that.’ ‘It’s a type of animal from my home planet. It sort of looks like one of your slugs but less slimy. It’s the size of a cat and has greyish pink skin. And they’re not very bright. Hence why I called you a glogger brain.’ ‘Can you two stop?’ Lalita sighed standing up. ‘Hey where are you going?’ Cam asked. ‘I’m going to get something to eat. We’ve been here long enough it’s probably lunch time and I need to stretch my legs. Please don’t murder each other while I’m gone.’ With that she started walking off leaving the two of us alone. ‘Wouldn’t it be quicker if you’d gone?’ I asked Cam. ‘It would. But there’s always a chance I’d get something he can’t eat.’ I wasn’t sure what they meant by that. ‘Does he have allergies or…’ Cam shook their head. ‘No nothing like that. It’s more of a sensory thing caused by them being autistic.’ ‘Yeah I heard him mention that. It has something to do with his brain right?’ ‘Yes. But you’re better of asking him the questions not me. He understands it more after all.’ I guess that made sense. Everything had returned to it’s previous slow and boring ways as we continued to keep watch. ‘Maybe we should play a game,’ I joked. ‘Like what?’ Cam asked shifting into a new position. ‘I don’t know? What’s that game where people try to guess what you’re looking at? I see was it?’ ‘I spy? There’s no way I’m playing that with a psychic, you could cheat.’ ‘I wouldn’t.’ ‘Or so you say.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Gee paranoid much. Why don’t you trust me? Especially over something so small.’ ‘Because I’m paranoid.’ I stared at them waiting for an explanation. They sighed and tilted their head so their chin pointed towards me. ‘I’m paranoid. As in I have paranoia. And mood swings and I see things that aren’t even there. And don’t ask me what’s wrong with me ‘cause all I’ve got is a list of symptoms and no diagnosis.’ I looked at them thinking. What they said explained quite a bit. Their struggle to trust me, the fact they could be fine one moment and snapping at everyone the next, and it explained why their eyes kept looking over your shoulder or to the side as if they’d seen something move. ‘So you don’t trust me enough to play I spy with you but you’re happy to share that bit of personal information?’ ‘My brain has invented its own logic.’ They shrugged. I was about to make a comment when I spotted Lalita heading towards us. ‘Finally I’m starving.’ I said as he sat down and started passing out the food he had brought back. As we ate not much happened across the road. Occasionally a truck would drive in or out, other times it would be a normal looking car. Probably Hunters going to and from work I thought. Thinking about hunters having a life outside of work. They had homes and families. What did their husbands and wives say when they came home? “Welcome home honey did you have a good day throwing kids into vans and taking them to a prison factory where they’ll be locked up?”

#nanowrimo #writting #this life and the other #first draft #long post #read more

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shibyn · 5 years

Text

and the wind sounds like the world’s sigh

persona 4 & 5 | shiho-centric, investigation team Near the end of May, Shiho transfers to a sleepy town called Inaba for a fresh start. However, Inaba isn’t the sleepy town her parents thought would be best for her— its on edge with unsolved mysteries, and Shiho finds that there’s a bit more behind what meets the eye regarding some of her classmates and a TV screen.

chapter 1: inhale | 2.4k | ao3

Maybe this is hell. It's a white ceiling, off-white walls, bright white lights, white bedsheets. It's the bland meals, kind but insincere conversations, background noise of the news. Sad, prolonged looks from Mom, regretful frowns from Dad, the overall lack of feeling from her legs. The monotone beep of the heart monitor and drip of the IV. Hell can't be dark and fiery and the screams of the damned-- it has to be this.

Ann is a light in this place. The blonde of her hair offsets the white entirety of the room, the radiance of her smile breaking the solemn air that's been stagnant. She can't always visit, but Shiho looks forward to the times she can. She's the inch of normalcy left in Shiho's life-- she tells her about things that have been going on in school, a cool photoshoot she was in, a dumb thing Ryuji was up to, a shiny A on a test that she only passed because Akira helped, a new restaurant the three of them went to-- she's glad, so glad that Ann hasn't let this change her, hasn't let the wobble of her lips when she looks towards Shiho's legs keep her from looking her in the eye and talking as if they weren't in a hospital. More often than not, Ann isn't there. She isn't there, and sometimes Shiho thinks it may have been better to land differently, breaking more than just her legs. She's confined to bed, confined to sleep and watching tv and staring at the wall. She's stuck, legs basically useless, and she has to sit through looks of pity from the doctor, her nurses, her physical therapist, her parents. Her skin crawls whenever her parents visit. They know what happened, but they don't know. They're so quiet when they visit, so sad, so pitying, and she has no idea what they're thinking. She hopes and hopes for the door to slide open whenever they're here, hopes the doctor does a checkup on vitals or the therapist takes her to learn how to use her legs again or Ann to come bounding in and dispel them. She's not lucky. They stay and they speak of things so mundane-- at least it's nice to talk with Ann, but with her parents it all feels awkward and forced and Shiho wishes she had the gut to tell them to stop, they don't understand, don't act like you understand. They aren't in the room the day Ann enters, eyes both bright and watery. Ann basically crashes in the seat next to her bed, grasps her hand so tight she's momently scared it'll snap, and tells her it's all over, he's in jail, he got what he deserved, he's gone. Shiho cries and Ann cries with her, and maybe, just maybe she'll be able to walk those wretched halls again and graduate side-by-side with Ann like they imagined and maybe she'll meet Ryuji and Akira and give them the biggest hug possible and hopefully hang out with them at Big Bang Burger or the Arcade. Her hopes soar, and she wishes she could stand so she could hug Ann and leave this awful room. Her parents walk in the next day, faces drawn in, and tell her we're going to move when you're released from the hospital. We're sorry, Shiho. Shiho doesn't cry. She just hopes her legs will stay broken, so she can still at least stay here and see Ann regularly.

—

Her legs ache the moment she steps off the train into the Yaso-Inaba Station. They've ached the moment she stepped on the train and throughout the whole ride. Shiho takes this as an ill omen. The car ride to the house is in a terse silence with occasional awkward conversations between her parents, similar to the train ride over. Inaba, her parents had told her, was a tiny rural town. A big difference from the metropolitan style of Tokyo. A good place for a fresh start, they said. Shiho can see between the lines and know they chose this place because nothing happens here. (She knows that they think if it's a peaceful place, there's less of a chance of her ending up in an ambulance midday and missing two months of her life. If it's peaceful, bad things won't happen. They won't.) It takes less than twenty minutes flat to drive to their house-- in Tokyo, on good days it would have taken twenty minutes to drive a mile. It's a small house, different from their even smaller apartment in Tokyo. They actually have a backyard. It's on the edge of Inaba and supposedly not too far from her new high school. Unpacking is quiet aside from the occasional 'put that in the kitchen' and 'can you help me carry this?' Thankfully it's cloudy outside, so it isn't too much of a chore. Most heavy things, like furniture, were delivered before hand, which cuts the labor. They apparently make enough noise for a neighbor to come out and greet them. Her mom ends up side-tracked talking to them, so she and her dad finish unpacking to avoid being dragged into the conversation. It's a single story house, small kitchen, small living room, two small rooms, two small bathrooms, and yet its still more spacious than their old apartment. Shiho claims the bedroom facing the backyard. Her dad helps bring in some boxes and offers to help set up furniture before Shiho shoos him off. Her room slowly comes together. She slowly puts things on the dresser, on the wall, in the closet, until it looks vaguely like her old room. It has all the same elements, but it doesn't register in her mind as her own yet. She goes about it in a detached sense, like her body is on autopilot. One year, Shiho thinks, this is my home for one year. She comes across her next uniform that her parents snuck in her boxes-- a black seifuku with a glaringly bright yellow ribbon and houndstooth patterned skirt. It's... something, to say the least. Not the worst uniform she's ever seen, but... well, it's definitely something. She guesses she can call it stylish for a school uniform. She lays it out on her bed, smoothing it out absently. There's no true blazer, so she can't exactly get away with just wearing the undershirt. She misses the plaid of Shujin, regardless of how ugly she thought it was at first. Her first day is... tomorrow, maybe? The day after? Her mom had told her, but it felt like fuzz in her ears. She doesn't want to think about school. Belatedly, she takes a picture to send it to Ann later. Ann was at a photoshoot right about now-- she couldn't exactly check her phone every now and then and respond to her. The lack of consistent buzzing from her phone made the whole unpacking process more quiet. Half-way through the next box, her dad reappears at the doorway, leaning in a casual way against the frame. He whistles in awe at the progress she's made, saying, "Wow, already this far? Sorry, sweetie, but you're gonna have to do the kitchen and living room at this pace." She rolls her eyes. "Sure thing. It'll probably be useless, though-- you'd probably reorganize it to your liking." He shrugs. "It's going to take weeks before your mother and I find an equilibrium in that kitchen. Ya close to a stopping point? I was kinda thinking bout getting dinner." She isn't, but the dust is starting to get to her. Besides-- this is might be the first time he's looked her in the eyes in a week. Maybe things are turning for the better. "Sure. I think I saw a take out place not too far away on the drive here." In a blocky motion, she pulls herself to her feet. Getting up to her feet was no longer easy. It was a struggle, even after so much physical therapy. She liked to think it was okay now. Yet-- her leg twists and twinges painfully, her breath catching in her throat as her world tilts. There's a flash of movement from the corner of her eyes in her dad's direction, but she manages to catch herself by slamming a stabilizing hand against the wall. Shiho swallows thickly, breathing slowly to calm the spike of her pulse at the sudden feeling of falling. She glances up warily. Her dad's hand is halfway towards her, as if to catch her if she didn't regain her footing, with the other braced against the door frame with white knuckles. There's a pause, a bit deafening, and her father retreats his hand and crams it in his pocket. A scowl sits on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching with unspoken words, and he quickly pulls on a grin that doesn't fit his face. "That was close," he laughs, a bit wheezily and with a tremor in the undertone. He shifts awkwardly, maybe debating to check if she's fine or to let her be. I wonder what went through his mind just now, Shiho thinks, throat tight, did he see my leg breaking? or them shattered, beneath hospital blankets? or maybe-- "Ah, you may have to start wearing your brace more often, kiddo. It's kinda hilly and rainy around here." Grimacing, she nods. "I'll put it on before we go." It's on her dresser, where she threw it after taking it off earlier to give her leg some air. She hates that thing-- it's hot and sweaty and itchy and it always seems to get disgusting in less than an hour. It's going to be miserable to wear it in the rain-- it'll become soggy and she'll have to deal with the spongey feel of it the whole school day. A moment passes. Her dad still lingers by the doorframe. He clears his throat and scratches his arm absently. "Are you going to be alright?" he asks, looking anywhere but her. "Yeah," she says quickly, and back tracks. "Yeah. I-- I'm alright. Just a little sore from the ride." Her legs are never not sore nowadays. Not that they need to know. There's a solemn look on his face. Shiho grits her teeth and thinks please don't. He nods-- she can't tell if he's satisfied with that answer or not-- and leaves. For a second, she just stands and breathes. Everyone around her has been walking on eggshells since she landed in the hospital, and she's so tired of it. She wonders how long it'll take until it's all gone and done for. Her mom trusts them with dinner, saying that she's in unpacking mode and doesn't want to drop out of it now that she's in it. The car ride is quiet for the most part, with the two of them peering out the window to spy a places to eat or figure out what something is. There's plenty of tiny mom-and-pop stores just a walk away from their house, and the Main Street isn't too far of a walking trip, either. Shiho has a feeling she'll become familiar with these streets in due time. The sun had set enough to the point where it was fairly dark out with the overcast. The clouds aren't lit up orange with city lights, and there's an underwhelming amount of obnoxiously neon signs on these streets. Some store signs aren't even lit up-- just how rural is this place? Oh!-- then, maybe when the nights aren't cloudy, she'll be able to see the stars? They end up parking at a brightly-lit grocery store and wander to a nearby takeout restaurant. The air's thick with rain soon to come and is quite chilly for spring-- the warmth of the restaurant they slip into is more than welcoming. It's a small place-- a few tables are set up inside with a couple tables occupied. Shiho very pointedly avoids their wandering curious stares. Three boxes of noodles ends up being the price of a single nice meal in Tokyo. And even better, from what she could peer at in the restaurant, they're possibly the best looking noodles she's seen in years. Not grossly greasy, or dangerously overcooked. The chunks of beef and chicken shine with just the right amount of sauce, and the vegetables don't seem still half frozen from the freezer. Sweet n Sour, General Tso's, Teriyaki-- the smell makes her want to crack a box open in the car, and from the pace her dad walks at, he wants to, too. Ah. The lack of city lights also makes the lights of a police car much more stark. Both her and her dad falter-- they aren't near their car, were they? God, what if the police around here were crazy strict about parking between the lines. Her dad didn't have a great streak with being completely center, and the parking lot was empty, so he didn't exactly try-- what luck would that be, not even six hours in Inaba and they've already gotten a ticket. But as they step closer, the car is parked in a side street close to the market. Her dad's shoulders drop in relief when there's no-one by his car. There are some standing outside the police cars, like there's something going on. One glances up and spots the two of them ogling. He smiles disarmingly at them, nods to his companion, and approaches. "Good evening," the officer says kindly. His hands are neatly tucked into his jacket pockets, posture open yet with a tension along his shoulders. "Sorry to bother the two of you this evening. I'm required to ask anyone I see, though— have you seen any suspicious activity nearby, recently? Biker gangs, suspicious figures, anything?" "No," her dad says curtly, his eyes drifting in the direction of the side street with a confused frown. Biker gangs? Suspicious people? Shiho thinks absently, shifting the bag on her arm anxiously, wait, didn't they say— didn't they say nothing happens around here? "We moved in today. Is something wrong?" A dawning realization crosses the officer's face. "Ah. No, not-- not necessarily. We're just keeping watch." The officer seems to mentally juggle what he should say. He ends up frowning and says, "Well... a first-year at Yasogami by the name of Tatsumi Kanji went missing recently, last seen by his mother's textile shop. He's possibly involved with activity in biker gangs. If you hear anything about him or see any activity, be sure to report it, yeah?" The smile her dad gives the officer is tense. "Understood. Thank you." Dinner isn't going to be as pleasant as she thought it would be.

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 4 #p4 #persona #shiho suzui #ann takamaki #FINALLY putting this on this bloggg #I would link to ao3 but I know tungle hates that shit

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killjoy-loveit · 5 years

Text

Hack This Part 10

A/N: You may or may not know the drill by now, but here it is anyways: this is in 1st POV (like my other stuff), I hope it will be 10 parts (if it isn’t I will make it very clear), and I would also like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction. I didn’t proofread this or have someone else go over it like I typically do, so as mistakes are found I will edit it. Sorry for the long wait, I lost inspiration for this story for some reason but I managed to gain some back to finish it.

Summary: Reina devises a plan to get them both out from the boss’ influence.

Word Count: 3, 952

Bonus Scene

***Warning violence and gore?

Finally, it was done. I had accumulated the necessary funds to free Z from this life, to erase the debt that bound him to the mafia. All that was left to do was actually get it to the boss, with the message of what the money was for. That was going to be the hardest part. There was no way Z would be let go willingly, even if his family’s debt was cleared. They would try to find anything else to get him to stay, threaten him, or kill him if they couldn’t convince him to stay. He needs to disappear once I do this. He won’t ever get to stay in one place again, he’ll be on the run for the rest of his life. This is something that I can do only with his permission.

Hesitantly I step out of my room into the living area, immediately spotting Z slouched over on the couch. I know he wants to be free of this life, but I’m not sure how he’ll react knowing that he finally has an out. Treading softly I make my way over to him, plopping down beside him on the couch. He smiles widely at me, wrapping an arm around me to pull me in close.

“What’s with the face?” Z questions, muting the show on the tv.

I bite my lip, looking away from him for a second before the words come tumbling from my lips. “I did it. There’s enough money to clear your family’s debt.”

“What?” He asked, freezing.

“I put my hacking to use and gathered enough money to clear your debts. The only problem being is I need your permission to go through with it and send it in to the boss because when I do it, you’re going to have to run. I don’t believe that he’ll-.” I get cut off by his lips on mine.

It was a brief, almost chaste kiss, one that showed his excitement and gratitude. But it also showed that he’d stopped listening about halfway through. With a gentle push, I moved him away from me, earning a confused look.

“It might help if you actually listened and let me finish speaking before you celebrate, Z. This isn’t going to be what you might expect, you know, finally being out of their grasp.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no way they’re going to let you go without a fight! Before I even send in the money, you need to be gone, completely disappeared. A new identity, new appearance, new everything. There’s no telling what they’d try to do to have you stay. So, before I do anything, I need your decision.” My words seemed to stunt the excitement that had been building in his eyes, causing it to fade away.

“What about you?” He asked quietly.

I furrowed my brows at his question. “What about me?”

“In all of this planning about how I need to disappear, you never mentioned anything about you other than sending the money in. Where are you planning to be when all of this goes down?”

I sigh quietly, wishing he hadn’t asked that question. Although knowing him, it was almost inevitable and I really should’ve seen it coming. “I… Have to stay behind. Both of us can’t just disappear, someone needs to be here to maintain a cover. I have to make sure you can get out safely.”

Z jumps to his feet, looking at me like I just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “No! There’s no way in hell I’m letting you do that, Reina. I won’t leave you behind, we leave together or we stay. There is no splitting up. If you think something could happen to me for trying to leave, what do you think they’d do to you for helping me?”

“I don’t care.”

“Reina, what the fuck? How could you say that? I care about what happens to you, how could you even think I wouldn’t?”

“It’s not that I didn’t think you’d care, I was more hoping you wouldn’t ask.” I mutter, looking away from his searing gaze.

Z scoffs at my response. “You didn’t really think I was that dense did you?”

“No, Z, I don’t think you’re dense. I just… I didn’t want you to realize I wasn’t part of the plan. I knew you wouldn’t agree to it, but there’s no other way.”

“There’s got to be another way. Nothing’s happening until we find a way for both of us to get out.”

Z meant what he said. Nothing happened for weeks, at least, not in regards to getting out from under the thumb of the mafia. Life carried on as it had been, what with Z going back to do work for the boss. It felt like no progress had been made and we were just back to existing. Except this time I knew there was a way out, and it was killing me not to do anything. There was nothing I hated more than feeling like I was at a stand-still, or trapped. Essentially that’s what the situation had become. We were trapped, unable to think of a plan that could free both of us.

Each plan we came up with was flawed, in such a way that only one of us could safely make it out alive. Of course Z preferred to stay right where we were if it meant I’d be safe, this did not suit me at all though. He thought I didn’t see it- the pain in his eyes, the hatred he felt for himself burning like an all-consuming fire. This pain, this hate, was brought on by the work he was forced to do. Everytime he came back, sometimes with little bits of blood on his clothes, I could tell how much he abhorred it. There was only so much I could do, short of turning in the entire operation to the authorities, which Z wouldn’t let me do.

His rationale is that we have friends within that are doing good things. To a point I can agree with him, as I’ve gone through the files so I know that the majority of people taken out have done some despicable things. But this also raises the question of what makes this group any different from those they kill? Are they better because they only kill those deserving of it? If so then that brings up that, by their own logic, eventually they too will be taken out due to their misdeeds and criminal actions.

But I’ve had enough of our run-around conversations, I don’t want more excuses for why we can’t do something. I need action to be taken before I lose my mind doing such menial tasks and remaining stagnant. I came up with a plan over the past few days that could manage to get us both out safely, albeit a few potential risk factors linger. Simplified, the idea is to get him out before I send the money in, afterwards I wait a day or so then cause a distraction that would allow me to escape and meet up with Z.

Storming out of my room, I make my way to Z’s, where I know he’s probably conked out but I can’t stay quiet anymore. “Z!” I yell out in front of his door, slamming my hand on the wood a few times for effect.

It takes a minute for him to reach and open the door, during which I hear him clambering and bumping into things. “Yes?” He blinks slowly, reaching a hand up to rub at his eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore. Either you agree to this new idea or I will turn in the entire organization to the authorities- friends and all.”

Even tired as he was from being abruptly pulled from sleep, he understood my threat instantly, causing his eyes to widen. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Well then tell me the plan I have to agree to.”

I explained it to him in detail. It’s a lot like my original plan, where I stay behind only this time I create a diversion of some kind to drag their focus off me so that I have adequate time to escape. Throughout the explanation I could tell he wanted to protest, but he apparently decided to hold all of his objections in until the end. Leading to him to all but explode at me once I finished my final sentence.

“That plan has too many holes, Reina and you are completely aware of that! Firstly, there’s no guarantee they’ll even let you close enough to a computer so that you could set up a distraction. Then you’re also assuming they’ll leave you completely guardless once your diversion takes effect, which they won’t. If you thought there’s no way they’ll let me go without a fight, I know there’s not a chance in hell they’ll let you live if they can’t have you.”

“I can’t live like this! Something needs to be done. You remember my threat, so it’s either this or the whole operation. Choose, Z.” I state, raising my voice to denote my anger at this situation.

“Fine, I’ll go along with your stupid plan but the second something goes wrong it’s canned.”

“No. Either you go with this to the end and trust me, or I turn everyone in.”

Z ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Fuck! Fine, Reina, have it your way.”

“Good. Tomorrow we start setting everything up.” I respond, effectively ending the conversation.

It didn’t take more than a few days to set everything up. Fake IDs and passports were acquired easily, as well as plane tickets to get us both out of dodge. Z’s hair was cut and dyed, he also had to get rid of his piercings and gather a new wardrobe. Other than leaving me behind, that was the other part of the plan he disliked, claiming that the clothes I chose were “boring and lame”. My rebuttal was that boring and lame blends in to the crowd, and that’s exactly what we needed. With everything ready, there was nothing holding us back from setting the plan into motion.

But Z was still putting up a bit of a fight. “I just don’t want to leave you here, you could get hurt.”

I sighed and shook my head at him. “I’ll be fine, but you will get hurt, by me, if you don’t leave now. I already set a time for the money to be delivered electronically a few hours from now, and if you aren’t out of here soon you won’t have enough time to disappear and could ruin the entire plan.”

“Alright, alright. But I hope you know if you aren’t at the airport, I will wage war to get to you.” He said, voice wavering with emotion.

“I’m aware, now go.” I murmur, lightly pushing him forward.

With a chaste kiss as his parting, he finally left. Now all I had to do was wait. This would be the boring part, seeing as I’d already set up a program in advance to detect when his face was caught on security cameras and erase the footage immediately. The program was completely untraceable and practically invisible, which would allow him to move freely without fear of being caught digitally. Hours passed by slowly, my heart rate not lowering a bit due to the anxiousness I was experiencing. Thirty minutes past the time the money was sent, a knock sounded at the door. It was time for me to start lying.

I opened the door quickly, seeing no point in trying to drag out the inevitable. The boss barged in with numerous men behind him, and two people I recognized: Jongup and Noah. I wasn’t expecting to see them, so I was slightly thrown off when the first question came at me.

“Where is he?”

“What?” I asked, turning my head to find the person who’d asked the question.

“Where is Z?” The nameless guy rephrased and stepped forward in what I suppose was meant to be an intimidating manner.

“I don’t know.”

The guy cracked his knuckles stepping forward once more, towering over me. “That’s a lie.”

I glanced at Noah briefly, her face was blank, completely devoid of emotion. “I truly don’t know where he is.”

No one believed this response, thus when the boss spoke it came as no shock to me. “Take her and search the apartment.”

With that command two guys with muscles obnoxiously large grabbed me by each arm and practically dragged me out of the apartment. I was shoved into a large dark vehicle and both men took a seat on either side of me to prevent an escape. The time in which I waited allowed me to think through why Jongup and Noah had been brought along. Obviously they were closest to him, aside from myself, so the boss must have figured they’d be useful in this situation. All I know is that if they reveal anything, I will destroy them- friends or not.

It wasn’t long before the boss and another man got into the vehicle with us and it was set in motion. I knew where we were going, it was clear based on the way each man had his shoulders set stiffly. They were mentally preparing themselves for something, which leads me to believe that either they’re going to torture me to reveal information on Z’s whereabouts or torture me until I agree to track him. This option revelation wasn’t too shocking to me, I’d prepared myself for this. After a certain point in the torture process, I was going to agree to track him- I could plant a false lead that would make everyone run off to catch him, allowing me the perfect chance to run.

Once we reached the warehouse I’d been to once before, I was ever so gracefully removed from the car. Being dragged through hallways I had already deemed cold and oddly clean from my previous visit was a new experience, one I wasn’t too fond of. I kept my eyes trained ahead of me, occasionally making eye contact with people we passed on our way. Unsurprisingly, they took me up the stairs to the room Z had been tortured in. The scene was about to be recreated, only with a substitution as the person being beaten.

As the boss made his way over to an ornate chair that screamed of its importance, he asked me the question I’d been asked a mere hour prior. “Where is he?”

My answer remained the same. “I don’t know.”

The boss was expecting this of course and with a simple wave of his hand, one of the brutes beside me slammed his fist into my ribs. “Do you have anything to say?”

I shook my head, glaring at his confident expression. A slightly different hand motion gained me a flurry of hits, each with a significant impact which would have cause me to fall if one of the men hadn’t stepped forward and held me up. This cycle continued, blow after blow landing in attempts to make me talk. I didn’t budge, even after they started using spiked brass knuckles. Each new blow resulted in ripped skin and fabric, leaving my shirt in tatters. A small pool of my blood was beginning to form on the floor below me, to the point I could see my reflection in it. Tears began to flow from my face against my will, joining the puddle of blood.

“Now do you have anything you want to share?” The boss asked, a leering grin present on his face.

I glared at him, my hate of him shining through my eyes. “I don’t know where he is.”

His hand raised immediately to get the men to continue their abuse, but my voice had him freeze. “But I can help you track him, just stop, please.”

“This is… Unexpected. Fine, they’ll stop. Though I can’t expect you could track him in your current state. You’ll get some basic care by the doctors downstairs, and an hour or so of rest. Then you will find him for me.”

The boss stayed true to his word, and maybe three hours later after being fixed up and having two hours of restless sleep, I was sat in front of a computer. Time for me to start the diversion. Normally, I’d have no trouble creating a false trail, even while being watched, but my brain wasn’t letting me focus. Everything was distracting me, and time was ticking by faster and faster. The code in front of me blurred together as my head throbbed. I ran my hands through my hair in annoyance, I need to get this done. I can’t let them find him, and he will come after me if I don’t manage to get out of here- which could lead to his death. That can’t happen.

With a new sense of urgency and determination, my hands fly over the keyboard, typing furiously. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything so fast in my life, but I went over it multiple times, checking for errors that could be deadly. A small smile came to my face as I found it was free of mistakes, this was it. It’s go time.

“I found him.” The lie passed my lips with ease.

Two hours later the warehouse was devoid of most people. So many people were taken as they had taken the bait that Z had decided to hole up with a rival of theirs, and they needed to prepare for a fight to get to him. Of course this wasn’t true and I’d just led them to start a full-on war. To my surprise the boss only left one man to guard me, though he was the beefiest looking brute from what I could tell. Now I had to disarm him and get out.

I stood up quietly, my voice soft as I spoke. “Could- could I lay down somewhere? I feel faint.”

The man nodded as I made my way over to him. When he turned around to lead me from the small room we were in, I stumbled into him apologizing profusely as my hand freed his gun from the holster on his hip. Without hesitation I pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.

“I know there’s got to be a spare vehicle around here, tell me where.”

He froze, caught completely by surprise at the gun pressed against his head. “There’s a garage near where we brought you in, a lot of vehicles around there along with keys.” He choked out.

The boss may have chosen the strongest guy to keep watch over me, but he also chose the stupidest. I averted my gaze from him because of what I was about to do. I pulled the trigger, and felt his blood spray back on my face as the shot rang out. His body hit the floor with a dull thud and ran. I sprinted through the halls, quickly making my way back to where I’d been brought in. Minutes later I found the garage, eerily I hadn’t even run into anybody.

Hooks lined the wall by the door, keys dangling from each one. My hand shook as I reached out and grabbed the first one I saw. I pressed the unlock button on the key fob and watched as a small nondescript car lit up. Before rushing over to the car I hit the button on the wall beside the keys to open the garage. My heart pounded as I put the car in reverse and sped out of there. I was surprised that no one had come to investigate the shot, I knew there were still people in the building. It almost felt too easy, but I can’t worry about that now. I need to get somewhere to clean myself off so that I can get to the airport to meet Z.

A small gas station twenty minutes from the warehouse is where I stopped. The gun I had taken from the guard tucked into the back of my jeans, the safety on of course. I tried to keep my hair covering my face, but it was difficult seeing as I have relatively short hair. Inside the gas station I was greeted by a cool blast of air which managed to make me shiver as I made my way to the bathrooms. As expected of a gas station bathroom it was a little shoddy, but I made do. It took five minutes of scrubbing to get all the blood off my face and out of my hair. Through the speckled mirror I could tell I looked haggard, my eyes were red and my skin dull.

Relief surged through me as the thought that we were almost free entered my mind. I just had to make it to the airport where Z was waiting for me. A fresh burst of adrenaline surged through my veins making the exhaustion I was feeling almost nonexistent. All I had to do was get to him. That’s the only thing, and then we’d disappear.

People were rushing about the airport when I arrived, everyone bumping into each other without a care as they raced to their destination. I scanned the crowd, looking for Z, who despite being quite tall was appearing difficult to find. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand land on my shoulder, and my heart raced in my chest as I turned to face whoever it was. As I laid eyes on the person, my pulse calmed and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

“You were almost late.” Z complained. “Let’s go.”

After I changed, we made our way through security, joining the large crowd of people trying to rush through. I kept feeling like it was too easy as we moved through the airport to our flight departure gate. I’m certain that my heart won’t stop racing until we’re on that plane and it’s taken off. While I recognized that Z and I blended in seamlessly, I still was afraid that we stood out, what with our height difference. Maybe we should have taken separate flights. That would have been safer, and would turn less eyes if anyone managed to recognize one of us. Though now it’s too late and I also don’t think that Z would have gone along with that, seeing as how he barely let me stay behind in the first place.

“You need to give her your ticket.” Z murmured, lightly pushing me forward.

I smiled at the attendant and handed her my ticket and passport. With a quick check she verified the ticket and my passport and waved me through, though I did stand and wait for Z to get passed too. Walking the ramp onto the plane eased my anxiety, we’re almost out. At our seats, as I tried to put my bag in the overhead compartment, my shirt rode up revealing bandaged skin. Z’s hand shot out, tracing the edges of the bandages.

“You didn’t tell me.” He whispered.

I sighed, giving up on my attempt to put my bag up, handing it to him before sitting down. “It wasn’t urgent.”

Z scoffed at my words as he quickly shoved both of our bags into the overhead compartment. “That doesn’t matter, you still should have told me. How bad is it?”

“Well, let’s just say I’m going to need a lot of help once the adrenaline leaves my system.”

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