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songsofadelaide · 8 months

Text

Call it Magic

Jean was, in every aspect, the perfect guy to bring home for your family to meet— handsome, polite, honest, respectful and responsible to a fault. Your family liked him so much that he became a staple on every occasion, never mind you at all. Jean liked them as much, thankfully.

You can live with the fact that Jean will never see you as nothing more than a childhood friend. You were perfectly content just being at his corner, not at all speaking of your unyielding fondness for him. Middle school, high school, university and work never changed how you felt for Jean Kirschtein, but he's always had his heart set on someone else.

So when the chance to finally move on from him presents itself to you, you decide to finally take the very first step, one which you should have taken a long time ago.

In which you ask your childhood friend Jean to become your plus one to a family occasion for one last time, and all of the chaos and clarity that ensues afterwards.

[A Jean Kirschtein x Reader AU one-shot]

tags: lawyer!jean x author!reader, alternate universe - no titans, modern setting, childhood friends, aged-up characters, unrequited love (but not really?!), angst and romance, no use of yn wc: 8.8k.

"In the end There was only one. Isn’t that how it is for all of us? There's that one you circle back to — for home." — Redbird Love by Joy Harjo

— First rain of summer.

You knew back then that being a new kid in a new neighbourhood wouldn't be easy.

When you first moved into the suburbs of Trost when you were only nine, the Kirschteins were the first ones to bring your family a housewarming gift. They were your typical friendly family who liked getting to know the new neighbours as soon as they moved in. Your family was no different from every other house they've made a connection with.

Mrs Kirschtein was a lovely conversationalist. She gave you one look and estimated you were around the same age as her son, who stood dutifully between his parents as they chatted with your own. "Jean-boy, why don't you introduce her to your friends?"

"Haa? But she just moved in! Shouldn't she help her family with unpacking?" Came the shrouded complaint from the brown-haired boy. Jean was a tall and lanky nine-year-old but the look oddly suited him.

"It's all right, we can handle things here," your mother beamed at the boy before giving you a gentle push in his direction. "Go and make friends, my sweet girl."

Jean shrugged as he took your hand in his and urged you to follow him, a smug grin on his face as he led the way to the nearest playground in the area. "Looks like I'm your first one. The name's Jean!"

You gave him your name in response, only for him to nod in affirmation that he remembers it.

"Strange, but not in a bad way. It suits you," he replied. "My friends are kinda strange, too, but they're good kids."

He didn't lie when he said his friends were pretty strange. The first question Sasha— the girl with the pretty brown hair— ever levelled at you was, "Hey, what's your favourite food?! Mine's barbecue!"

Connie's initial reaction was even more unexpected, especially since he anticipated another boy to move into town. Instead, there was you. "A-A girl?! No way! I'm not ready for this! And she's c-cute, too!"

"Knock it off, you two! She just got here and you're already so annoying!"

Their familiar bantering could only mean they're closer than they let on. By the time Jean was done arguing with them, you had the warmest and most amused smile on your face. I could get used to this.

"It's nice to meet you," you beamed at them. "I hope we can all be friends!"

"I did say I was your first, so here's two more," Jean shrugged once more. "Welcome to the club or something."

That was the beauty of childhood friendships further unveiled. It didn't matter if they only knew you for a couple of minutes. Sasha and Connie were awfully kind to you and never made you feel out of place at all. Jean always kept a watchful eye on you at school as well. Whether he did it out of duty or out of worry— you'll never know for sure.

When you look back at your childhood summers, they were often characterised by Connie's boisterous laughter, Sasha's sundried sweets and snacks, and Jean, the very first friend you made in a new neighbourhood. He was an easily likeable boy who had a soft spot for you, not that he'd ever admit it outright, though. You liked his abrasiveness, even considering it part of his charm.

And you still like him as much twenty years later. He made moving in and fitting in so easy, after all.

— Rust and Stardust.

~ twenty years later.

"You know, Zeke is going to have my head for this."

The slender figure who stepped into your space at the office pantry could only sigh as you finally looked up at her. The subdued whirring of the coffee maker only sounded not long after she arrived.

"Pieck! Good morning!"

"Don't you greet me a 'good morning' like everything's normal," the brunette crossed her arms over her chest, slightly wrinkling her neatly pressed pale blue blazer. "Why haven't you responded to Zeke about his offer?"

It was as good as any other day, but you knew it was only a matter of time before Pieck, of all people, started to chew you out because of your indecisiveness. Though if you were being completely honest, the offer made to you by your editor-in-chief weighed heavily on your mind.

"It's not that I haven't considered it," you sheepishly replied before letting the sound of coffee droplets fill the air in the pantry. "I've been thinking about a lot of things lately."

Twenty years have passed since you and your family moved to the suburbs of Trost, and four years since you graduated from college with a Bachelor of Arts in Communication. You quickly landed an entry-level role at the then-underground homegrown magazine The Eldian Synergy and eventually rose to the rank of Managing Editor— partly due to your writing skills and partly due to your friendship with Pieck Finger, who introduced you to the eccentric magazine editor-in-chief, Zeke Jaeger.

Surprisingly, the older Zeke was thoroughly impressed by the fluff pieces you continuously brought to his table, though he knew you were capable of writing more insightful pieces. As your team of editors grew from just a handful of ragtag writers to an echelon of executors only after the most excellent beats, so too did the magazine readership— and it's now reached the point where an expansion is at hand.

"Investors have made their intentions clear. I believe we should give this a go," he told everyone as you were all gathered in the office a few weeks ago. What was once a spacious studio for just the original five of you was now a cramped office for every member of the editorial team. The place was lively, vibrant and well-lived, and every wall has heard every word or breath of the heart of the whole team. To leave it now…

"If you're worried about the future of the magazine, then you really should go with Zeke. The whole point of this move is to expand our influence. I'm sure I wasn't the only one dreaming of a second branch— and overseas, too!"

"You'll be going too, won't you, Pieck?"

"Naturally! I am the Synergy's Creative Editor, after all!" The brunette exclaimed with a proud little puff of her chest. "Zeke will leave operations here to Porco. It's been a long time coming, too, seeing as he's been his assistant and long-time protégé for quite some time now. Colt will also be helping out."

"I dunno… Don't you think there should be at least one of us to stay here with them? It's—" You fumbled for the right words to say, though it was already obvious to Pieck that you were masking your real intentions.

"I know what this is about. You're so reluctant to leave because of this. I am saying this to you not just as a colleague who wants you to think for herself for once, but as a friend who wants you to choose yourself for once," Pieck said with a subtle click of her tongue, and perhaps a little hint of disappointment. "Isn't it about time you stopped choosing someone who isn't choosing you?"

Good grief, you groaned inwardly.

With Jean now a newly-minted lawyer, it was only a matter of time before he started working on building his renown and reputation.

He and Mikasa took the Bar Exam together, you thought. Then again, so did Armin and Annie and Marco, too.

You filled your cup with the freshly-brewed coffee and suddenly realised you made too much— Too much for just one person because Jean always had coffee at your place every morning and this must have been a force of habit, but who was going to drink this? Who else was going to choose you?

Not Jean. Not Jean again.

"You think I don't know that yet?"

— I will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me.

When you, Jean, Connie and Sasha first spoke about college and university in the summer of your last year in senior high, it became clear to you that Jean was far more ambitious than he actually let on. He lived for arguments and investigations and relished proving himself correct. It only made sense for him to take up law, but Mrs Kirschtein found the thought of her son feeding her with 'money bloodied by crime' absolutely repulsive.

"Mother wouldn't let me take political science, so I'm changing my trajectory a little," Jean stated. "First, I'll take up Business Administration, then, boom— Corporate law."

"No criminals, just corrupt businesses," Connie pointed out. "You'll still be defending bad guys no matter what you do."

"And he'll do a great job at it. It takes one to know one, after all," Sasha snorted. "As for yours truly, I might take up Hotel and Restaurant Management! My parents have always been big with hospitality stuff, so I thought I might give it a try as well."

"And you aren't just doing that for the good food that your hotel or restaurant might serve in the future?" It was Jean's turn to laugh.

Sasha elbowed him. "Hey, the food experience will definitely be part of the job!"

"And if anyone needs some floor maps drawn, for their law firm or hotels, you can always contact your resident architect," Connie stated with a grin so bright as he jerked his thumb on his chest. It didn't take long for him to elbow you as well. "You've been awfully quiet. Plotting any grand plans for college or uni yet?"

You could only smile as you looked down at your clasped hands. For some odd reason, you felt like Sasha's bedroom shrunk awfully small, but you gradually came to realise that you and your childhood friends have grown up ever so slightly.

Eighteen. All of you were just eighteen and yet it felt like your friends have their lives planned out for the next decade.

"I've always liked writing, so I guess I'll keep on writing?" You said with a little shrug. Though if you were being honest with your friends, you'd say their ambitions scare you a bit. You didn't think about college hard enough to actually want to earn an esteemed title of sorts. Communication Arts was as good a degree as any other, and you liked that you didn't have to solve any maths problems, too.

"Oh, yeah! World-renowned author in our ranks, too! Not bad!" Connie nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Oh, man. Just the thought of us achieving all our goals excites me. The goosebumps are kinda gross, though."

"Yeah, yeah, the future's cool," Sasha shrugged before sitting back more comfortably. "More importantly, I want you guys to promise that we'll stay in touch. Not that you really need any reminding at all, but just to be sure."

"You don't need to say that twice. I'll always be around, you dumbasses," Connie chuckled. "Drawing up plans for houses in the neighbourhood."

"Someone's gotta keep this place free from troublesome people, so…" Jean stated with a nonchalant shrug that seemed more a show of confidence. "And where else will we all meet but your ritzy hotel with amazing food?"

"Yeah, I-I'll write all about it, too," you piped in. "I mean I think people will trust my word by that time, so…"

Lawyer, hotelier, architect, and author. The prospect of achieving such heights in the future terrified you, but with your friends so sure about their goals, you felt it was only right to be optimistic about things. They were all doable, with hard work and maybe a bit of luck.

Eleven years after that very promise was made, Jean refuted that luck played a role in his passing of the bar. All of it was him. Surprisingly, Sasha was the very first one of your friends to get engaged— to a world-class chef, no less, as though the universe was providing her with all the vital pieces for her endeavours in building your city's fanciest hotel. Following his apprenticeship with Ragako Restorations, Connie was on his way to starting his own construction company, though it was only from the backyard of his childhood home.

Years have passed and the promise made to stay in touch with each other proved pointless since you all bunked in the same apartment complex. Your respective circles may have expanded, but home remained the same, with Sasha always cooking, Connie bringing over one too many drinks every after-exam period, and Jean raiding your coffee maker to the point where he's become part of the caffeine budget as well.

Your friends from your youthful days all have a foothold on the goals they manifested years ago. And while you haven't published a single book yet, you grew a following with your work for The Eldian Synergy by releasing fluff and cream pieces that were a hit with locals both young and old.

The magazine's readership was big and its reach was incredibly wide, and a lot of young women looked up to your advice columns and articles as a Holy Grail, a bible to follow as they tackled their own relationships head-on.

Funny how you seldom followed your own advice, with your feelings for your very first friend still unspoken after all these years.

Jean's magnetic personality brought through a number of admirers and would-be girlfriends, but he had a policy of prioritising his studies before starting any relationships.

One stood out, though, since Jean can't seem to get her out of his mind no matter how hard he tried— Mikasa Ackerman. She was friends with Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert, who was friends with Annie Leonhart and Marco Bodt, who was friends with Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Hoover from the Architecture Department… And so your circle of friends expanded on and on. Once a tribe of college and university kids— now adults— in pursuit of goals made manifest.

When your blockmate Pieck Finger first approached you after hearing your verbal essay on the immortality of the press, she had a look in her eye that said she struck gold. You proved her right after you won over both Zeke Jaeger and Porco Galliard, the founding members of the college's Press Club.

While each of you has carved out a place for yourself, the peace that comes with having Jean, Sasha and Connie around was a feeling unlike any other.

As your mother's birthday approached, so too did the dread of having to invite your childhood friends back home. Invitations were easier when they weren't being tormented by the busyness of adult life, but with Sasha planning her wedding, Connie launching his construction firm, and Jean about to take his oaths after passing the Bar Exam, you expected the idea to be rebuffed at best. Not that you really minded at all.

Except Jean wasn't busy on that day. His oath-taking wouldn't be until the next three weeks.

"What? I've been waiting for you to personally invite me even though Aunt Cara already called me," he stated from across the table as he drank his freshly brewed cup of coffee. "I know it's always been us four, but…"

But now it was just the two of you, and your throat felt awfully dry right now. If this was fate's way of telling you to shoot your last shot or let down your hopes gently, by granting you one last trip with Jean, it truly was a convenient but awfully cruel set-up.

One you willingly walked into yourself.

"Well? Whaddya say? Road trip? Just like old times." He chuckled.

How the hell could you refuse?

"Sure."

Were you, though?

— Take me back to the night we met.

Jean's car, a reliable orange Hilux he's had ever since you all started college and university, was always filled with rambunctious laughter every time it was time to go home to Trost for the summer break. The lack of noise and storytelling from Sasha and Connie didn't worry you at all, and this isn't the first time you'll come home with just Jean, but the prospect of opening up to him about your decision to move to Marley did fill your chest with some trepidation.

Looking back, the longest you've ever been apart from Jean was during your week-long writers' camp in your junior year in college. And his oddly overprotective self still insisted on seeing you off and picking you up afterwards even though the Press Club had transportation provided by the college.

Jean and Sasha picked you up in that very same truck when you called her in tears following the end of your very first relationship that very same year.

It was still the same "squad car" with a smaller, modified squad since it was just going to be you and Jean. Gosh, just how many adventures and misadventures did you have in that car?

You were on the landline phone with your mother the night before her birthday and your homecoming with Jean.

"I already talked to Sasha and Connie about it earlier this week," you started straight after the pleasantries with your parents. "I told them I have a really good feeling about this new job. They're supportive, like always."

"And Jean?"

"I'm… not quite sure how to tell him yet. I'm sure he'll be thrilled for me," you said, absentmindedly wrapping the curling cord over a finger. "I'll probably tell him while we're on our way home tomorrow."

"Oh, my sweet girl… Have you told him about how you felt? I know it's been so long and…" Your mother said with a soft sigh. "If you're still mulling things over, just remember… He deserves to know just as much as you deserve to be free."

When your mother first teased you about your feelings for the boy next door when you were just a girl, you nearly yelped at her to keep it down. Now that you're an adult and more honest with yourself and with your mother, there was no need to jump any hoops and deny what was already blatantly obvious to her.

"I'll… find the time to," you nodded to yourself, as though assuring yourself you'll be all right.

—

You were not all right.

Jean was apologetic for making you reply to the messages of his bar mates while you were on the expressway to Trost, but there was little he could do to ease your motion sickness now that you have passed through every possible gas station you could have taken a break at.

"All right, all right, I'll call Marco and tell him we're on the road. They can bother me later," his larger hand gently pried his mobile phone from your grip. "All this talk about an afterparty when the oath-taking is still next a few weeks out… Even Mika's annoyed. Hey, recline your seat and close your eyes."

"I'm fine, Jean," you softly insisted. "Besides, I need to stay awake so I can keep you—"

The Hilux gradually ground to a halt as he pulled into a lay-by, unbuckling his seat belt so he could reach over to adjust your seat. "Please. I shouldn't have made you reply to all those questions so I could get a quiet holiday."

With his figure draped over yours, his scent was quick to stick to your clothes as well. He always smelt of citrus and cedar and it never failed to send signals to your brain that you were home.

"Take a nap. I'll wake you when we're home," Jean stated as he tenderly brushed his palm over your eyes, prompting you to lower your lashes. He ran his fingers through your hair and made sure you were rested before eventually driving home. "I'll be sure to buy some Dramamine the next time we have a road trip."

Oh, but I have something to tell you. I'm not even sure we'll have a next time. You wanted to open your eyes and speak because there was so much you had to say, but all you could think of was home and your mother's embrace. However, the urgency of the issue mattered very little now that you were lulled to sleep by the air conditioning and the smoothness of the expressway.

Jean in his beige pullover, his cologne that smelled of citrus and cedar, his gentle humming to the songs playing on the radio— if you were dreaming, you didn't mind sleeping in a bit more, because this was surely the calmest dream you've had in a while now.

I'll talk to him about it later was the last bit of consciousness you could recall before eventually dozing off for the rest of your road trip. By the time you awoke, Jean was already pulling into your driveway, giving you very little time to react and adjust to your surroundings. Your parents were already excitedly waiting at the front porch to welcome your arrival.

"Here they are! My sweet girl and our Jean-boy! Come! Come in!" Your mother was quick to let you go after your embrace as she hurriedly ushered Jean into the kitchen. "Here comes Trost's newest lawyer!"

Apart from always proving himself right, Jean also relished in praise and admiration and there was no lack of it in your house. It was pretty much his second home in the neighbourhood and he remembers running to your place whenever he had arguments with his mother. His parents weren't there yet, but his every whim and word was indulged by your mother, who handed him a hefty serving of freshly-cooked Paella.

"There he goes," a defeated sigh left your lips as Jean vanished into the kitchen with your mother and aunts. "Then again, he's always been so popular with everyone at home."

"Not everyone," came your father's response as he gently smacked your head with a rolled-up copy of the latest Eldian Synergy. 'On Goodbyes and Seasons of Waiting' was the title of your last article, and it was carefully bookmarked, obviously read more than once. "Your last one was a good read. More discerning than your usual pieces. Wherever you go, I'm sure your writing will move more people. You pour your soul into everything you pen, after all."

"Thank you, pa," you smiled at the older man, to which he responded with a kiss on your forehead.

"While you're here, be sure you don't leave anything important."

"Of course."

Anything important, huh? Were your feelings for Jean important enough that it warranted a proper conversation? Of course they were, but only you would gaslight yourself into thinking they didn't matter and it wouldn't matter if you left even without saying a word to him. Should I just leave without saying anything?

By the time your mother and aunts were done talking off Jean's ears, he found you staring at the photos that lined the hallway leading to the living room. Your parents' wedding portrait, slightly faded pictures of you and your siblings in your childhood, some of their graduation portraits… and tucked in a corner was a photo of little you, Jean, Sasha and Connie on your 10th birthday, some little bruises and baby teeth missing, but it radiated the same comfort and happiness you've been so accustomed to most of your life.

"Hey, bestie! Do you remember this?" You couldn't help but giggle as Jean approached you. You caught the rest of your laugh in your mouth when you saw the graveness of his expression.

"I heard you're leaving town for work."

"What?" Oh. You felt your pulse quicken at his inquiry. "Who told you that?"

"Aunt Cara did."

"Good grief," you groaned, a hand now over your eyes. "I… was supposed to tell you about it a little bit later." You couldn't say that you were truly thinking of not telling him at all, now that he looked so bewildered by the revelation.

"I'm confused. Was I not supposed to know about it?" He asked, visibly perplexed by your statement. "Don't tell me you were planning on just straight up leaving without telling me at all."

"I… was," you said plainly, figuring there was no use hiding things now that he knew, anyway. "But look, you know about it now, so let's just say our goodbyes, okay, Jean?"

He stood there completely immovable, piecing two and two together in his head— the hushed conversations you've been having with Sasha, the muted discussions about foreign accommodations with Connie, one elbowing the other whenever they made a slip of the tongue about flying and Marley, of all places.

"So that's what everyone's been whispering about…" The confusion on his face melted into a look of pure hurt. "The gang knew, didn't they? Was I the last one to know about this?"

"Jean…"

"You not telling me things, especially something as important as this… I don't understand. We're best friends, aren't we? Please make it make sense! You're leaving so soon and I had no idea!"

You pursed your lips to a thin line, averting your gaze from the sad look in his eyes as he unknowingly backed you into a corner of the hallway, far from your family's bustling and merriment. With his arms pressed to the walls, there was no escaping his brokenheartedness, the very thing you've been avoiding from the start.

"Is it because of me?"

His question prompted you to look up at him, his brows furrowed in gentle frustration. "No, Jean… It's not you."

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Because there's nothing wrong," you shook your head. "Look, the job offer's great. I still get to write about whatever I want, just in a different place… Zeke wants our writing to overcome the world and I… I'm just trying to help myself the best way I can."

"Will… Will Porco be there?" Jean asked, almost sounding embarrassed. The question may have seemed out of place in your conversation, but you knew exactly what he was thinking of at that very moment.

"No, just me, Pieck, and Zeke. Porco will be managing things here at Eldia. You know my relationship with him was good while it lasted, but we broke things off when we realised that we were better off as friends. And while we're still co-workers, I can assure you that there's nothing…" Your voice faded as your explanation continued. Why were you even explaining this to Jean?

Oh. Somehow you felt your face heat up as Jean slowly stepped away from you, now that he's heard what he wanted to hear. It always did please him whenever guys gave up on you, but you never really understood why. If he wanted me, all he had to do was say so. Then again, he was always so quick to draw the line between you two whenever things started feeling different than usual— when he'd rest his head on your shoulders a minute more than what was considered appropriate, when he'd reach for your hand whenever it was just the two of you in the room, only for him to drop it as soon as his blockmates showed up, and when he'd laugh at Sasha and Connie's insistence that you two should date each other—

You could feel your chest tighten as you stood there motionless, as though your ribs were crushing your lungs, pushing your heart up your throat.

It can't end like this, you thought. He deserves to know just as much as I deserve to be free.

"Porco was a good guy, but he… he wasn't you," you started, trying to quell the quiver in your voice. "And you always told me to come to you whenever I had any guy problems, right? But did I ever? No, because there's no one else I liked more than you, Jean. I've always felt so at home with you and you've always been the centre of my world, and I want to tell you so many things and spill my heart out to you like I always do, but I can't do that anymore—"

"What?" Came his confused response once more. "You…"

You only realised that you were sobbing when you tasted salt on your lips, with fat, stinging tears rolling down your cheeks. You raised a sleeve to your runny nose, taking a step back as he attempted to reach for you.

"I like you, Jean," you stated before swallowing your own cries. "I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you for the longest time, but what the hell, right?"

—

The car ride back home was awfully quiet and Jean couldn't blame you for wanting to sleep during the entire trip instead.

Friends since nine, inseparable ever since. Your families were as good as your own with how often they saw you two together, and it only dawned on him now how hurt you must have been every time they commented on your relationship and how he always offhandedly rebuffed any deeper involvement with you.

And after nearly 20 years of friendship, you finally confess to him, only for you to leave just as soon as you gave voice to the depths of your affections.

At a stoplight by the border exiting your hometown, Jean noticed how you forgot to put on your seatbelt before leaving the party. Placing the gear on neutral, he reached over and pulled the belt over your sleeping form and buckled it down for safety. The corners of your eyes were puffy after all that crying and he understood how it must hurt a lot for you to even just look at something, so he just let you sleep.

The weight of his own obliviousness lay woefully dense on his shoulders. How could he have been so blind to all of this? Then again, you were a master of restraint yourself, and Jean couldn't help but trace back the steps you took together— the path you walked alongside each other— when you decided to become friends nearly two decades ago.

And if by chance he did notice the flowering feelings you had for him, what would he have done? Either way, he couldn't picture a life without you by his side.

You, who was present for most of his life, a figure he closely acquainted with the feeling of home. Jean believed you would be a permanent part of his life and things would never change between you even in the future. But that future was happening before his very eyes and it wasn't as he imagined back then. How could he have been so cruel to you?

You, who always left your window open so you could listen to his endless prattling about the divine Mikasa Ackerman. You, who only dared to date one guy all your life, only for Jean to rebuff him by claiming he wasn't good enough for you.

Deep down, maybe Jean did know. Maybe he was aware of how you felt. Yes, he must have known it somehow, and that might explain that awful, gnawing feeling of entitlement he had over you. He must have felt it in his gut before, and all that talk about guys not being good enough for you was just him holding you back with his own entitlement and insecurity. You… were probably just as divine as Mikasa in his mind, but you were his most precious friend. You were off-limits even to him.

You, who came to your senses one day and decided that enough was enough.

Jean tried to keep his mind from wandering away any further by attempting to focus on driving since you were nearing the expressway anyway. He slowed down and gave your sleeping form one last look, his arm already halfway from brushing his knuckles against your warm cheeks, only for him to eventually pull back.

All your lives, you orbited each other as celestial bodies would in the sky, close enough to hear each other's heartbeats but never really fully touching. For once, he wanted to touch you as you were, not under the guise of a protective friend who wanted to shield you from every harm and hurt that may come your way.

He must have known you were holding out hope that he would turn your way and see you not just as a friend, but… Why did the prospect of your relationship taking a different turn scare him? Why did he have to turn your way now that hope has been lost to you and everything was now out in the open?

No, you didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve a lukewarm love at all. You deserved someone who would love you with all of the warmth and fire in their being, and all Jean had now were embers barely sparking a blaze.

"That's enough, Jean," he murmured to himself, shaking his head as he gripped the steering wheel once more. "I'm sorry."

And it was only right for him to finally set you free.

— Rain[fall] over tormented cities.

A week has passed since your trip home with Jean. Sasha, though officially moved out of your shared apartment, decided to stay for a while given the state you were in when you got back. Her fiance Niccolo would also come from time to time, cooking the most amazing dishes in hopes of lifting your spirits. By the time you were ready to return to work, the couple was about to make their exit from the apartment as well.

"I can't thank you enough, you two," you pulled them into an embrace which they happily returned. "Nicco, I don't know how many pounds I've gained, but what can I say? Totally worth it."

"We're a little busy with stuff at the moment, but you know that we'll always have time for you," Sasha replied, taking your hands in hers. "See you in two weeks."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed the food," Niccolo said, a twinkle of goodwill in his golden eyes. "If I may… While I haven't known you all since childhood, I think I do know you guys well enough to have a pretty clear idea of what just happened."

Sasha squeezed your hands in hers. You squeezed right back, smiles on your faces as you nodded at her fiance to carry on.

"Jean loves you in his own way, I'm sure you're aware of that," he clapped a hand on your shoulder. "And you love him in your own way, too, yeah? Might not be on the same degree, but I'm certain neither of you would want to lose that love, regardless of whether you just see each other as just friends or something more."

He's right. More than anything, you seemed to miss Jean more now that things are out in the open. Were you truly content just leaving without even saying goodbye to the person most precious to you?

"But you know, I was all for you admitting your feelings to him. Sasha here told me not to instigate anything. Jean might have just reciprocated if he knew. Call me a dumb romantic, I guess," Niccolo said with a smile and a shrug. "But please… Don't leave things as they are. You two have known each other forever. I doubt your younger selves would have liked this."

—

On the other side of town, newly-minted lawyers Jean and Marco had just concluded a conversation that ran for several days given how inconsolable the former was when he returned from Trost.

"And she hasn't reached out since, huh?" Marco asked from across the restaurant booth, their black coffee untouched for hours. "Though she's already contacted Sasha and Connie. Speaking of Connie, he said he'd drop by—"

"Damn right I'm dropping by," said the newly-arrived bald guy, taking a seat beside Marco so that he was facing Jean as well.

"Why're you even coddling Jean so much, Marco? Let him feel the weight of everything," Connie stated as he called for a waitress. When Jean met his gaze, he could only shake his head in response. "What, you idiot? She finally went and said it after 20 years. Did you seriously think nothing would change between the two of you now?"

"Did you… know about it?"

"Everyone in the room knew except you, Jean," Connie sighed. "You know, it was pretty aggravating how you were so oblivious to how she felt for you. You always chalked it up to our long friendship even though it was already blatantly clear that she cares for you more than anyone else."

"Why didn't anyone think about pointing it out to me? Was I really that oblivious?"

"It wasn't our place to… to pry open a girl's feelings when she had no intention of letting you know. Not directly, at least," Marco stated. "She cares for everyone, but it was pretty clear she had a favourite."

"That's Jean and his entitlement," Connie replied. "That time she dated Porco, you and I saw how he did absolutely everything for her. For once, she was happy with a guy that wasn't us. But I knew that something was up when he opened up about the way he felt in their relationship… like he was competing against some unseen creature."

Jean couldn't help but lower his head, dropping his eyes to his coffee as he tried to avoid his friend's claims.

"Let me ask you something, my dumb little friend. Did it ever occur to you that she could have been absolutely happy with someone else if not for her great affection for you? She almost…" Connie shook his head.

Your past relationship with Porco Galliard was a Pandora's Box you never wanted to open again. Now that Connie jimmied the box open, it forced Jean to confront the very same demons he sought to hide from everyone.

"I… I thought I was the one who knew her best. I was her best friend, after all. But that was the thing: we were best friends. Could I really afford to shatter something so important? One word could change just about everything."

"And how did you feel when Porco was doing just about everything you did for her when they dated?"

For Jean, it was simple. Simple yet complicated. "Why couldn't that be me?"

"Damn right, that could have been you!" Connie exclaimed, pointing a finger at his childhood best friend. "Don't give me this bullshit about our friendship changing overnight just because you two had feelings for each other either didn't want to acknowledge. It was going to change regardless and it was up to you two to make sure that things hold—"

The small ping from Jean's phone lit up his screen, cutting through the conversation and drawing their eyes to the single notification that appeared across his wallpaper.

[𝚢𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝 ✨: 𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔?]

"…?"

Jean and Marco were startled when Connie bolted from his seat and slammed his hands on their table. "Don't just sit there, Jean! Reply to her text! Better yet go say you'll see her now! For goodness' fucking sake, talk things over with her before it's too late!"

— It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.

It was just like any afternoon after a day at work, but seeing Jean jog towards you as you sat on one of the stone benches in the park just outside your apartment made you feel like something truly has changed. With your most well-kept secret out in the open, it was only natural that the silence between you two was rather awkward. It used to be comfortable. However, in the quiet of that afternoon, part of you also felt absolutely freed.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replied, slightly breathless.

"Did you run all the way here?"

"I… I did," he exhaled before finally taking a seat beside you after you gestured for him to.

"I wanted to talk to you about that thing I missed the chance to tell you last week. Our editor-in-chief Zeke invited Pieck and me to start out in a new office in Marley. We have investors backing this expansion and Zeke wants to bring along his most trusted people with him," you started. "It's not a permanent thing, but the three of us will have to make base there for a while. You know, to build up readership in the country, find people to fill roles… Basically to run the office like we did when the Synergy was just starting out."

"I see. Sounds like you got your work cut out for you," Jean stated, slowly sitting back. "Which is why I've been thinking…"

"Ooh, how dangerous. Jean using over 10% of his brain could only mean trouble," you replied with a laugh. Surely your friendship with him hasn't changed so much that you wouldn't be able to joke with him just like always. "Kidding, kidding. What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

Jean fell quiet, a pensive look on his finely chiselled yet rugged face. He unclasped his hands and reached out for yours. "This might sound crazy at first, but what if I try to find a law society in Marley? I know I'll have to take a certification exam of sorts, but—"

"You can't be serious about this, Jean," you stammered, nearly pulling your hand away from his grasp in indignation.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He pulled you right back in. "I thought you'd be happy—"

"Jean, listen to yourself a little. Your plan is crazy! And the last thing I'd want is for us to get together now because you feel sorry for me and my unrequited love for you," you playfully bumped shoulders with him, only for you to rest your head on his arm. "I… chose to love you regardless of everything. It's not your fault you didn't like me that way and it's nothing to pity, either. I was just being honest, after all."

"What am I supposed to do now, then? My best friend is about to leave and I…"

When he opened his hand to release yours, all you could do was lay your palm over his own, smiling at the difference in their sizes. Hands that have led you everywhere whenever you were together.

"I think your best friend would want you to choose yourself because lately, she realised that all you've ever done was look out for her," you said softly. "Even though you like another girl."

"You mean Mikasa, right? I—"

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Jean. I don't need it."

The two of you sat there, a brief moment of silence before he asked.

"When's your flight?"

"On the 17th."

The 17th. "That's my—"

"Your oath-taking ceremony, I know. I'm sorry I can't be around for that," you replied with a small smile. "I know you'll do great. As for me, I'll manage. No need for you to worry about who'll take me to the airport since Sasha and Nicco offered to, so I'm all covered."

"I see," he nodded. "Don't worry about my oath-taking, too. Connie said he'd be there. I'm actually more worried about you and your flight."

"Don't worry about me too much, okay? Have a little faith in me."

"I'm sorry… But you know I'll always worry about you. It's like a job at this point in time now. Call me the CEO of worrying about my best friend," he chuckled, slowly turning in your direction to see the very same softness and fragility that endeared you to him from the very beginning. "I'll miss you."

But when you turned to him, all he could see was the strength in your unclouded gaze as you looked into his brown eyes. "And I'll miss you. Terribly."

Your facade finally broke when his long arms drew you into a long and tight embrace, your steely resolve crumbling in his hold.

"I love you, Jean. Always have," you cried into the crook of his neck. "Thank you for letting me choose myself first this time."

"And if you were to ask me After all that we've been through "Still believe in magic?" Oh, yes, I do. Of course, I do."

~ ten months later.

"And after nearly a decade of dating each other, hotelier Sasha Blouse and cruise ship executive sous chef Niccolo [Abbandando] have tied the knot at their beloved passion project, The Hunter Hotel and Resort, in the presence of their beloved and adoring family and friends. That very place stands as a testament to the couple's fidelity to each other and to their community, a place where people from near and far can gather to take a break from the intricacies of their lives and indulge themselves in amazing food meticulously prepared by an executive sous chef of The Founding Queen…"

Still decked in her elegant wedding dress, Sasha could only squeal in delight at the piece she read from the latest Eldian Synergy, where you wrote an article to commemorate the opening of their hotel and restaurant and their wedding. "Beautiful. This is a work of art!"

"I'm so glad you liked it, Sasha," you replied as your newlywed best friend pulled you into an embrace. "Congratulations. I hope you and Nicco have a blessed and blissful married life."

Following the church ceremony was a wedding reception at The Hunter Hotel and Resort carefully planned by the newlyweds. The menu was composed of many of the bride's favourite meals prepared by the groom, including wood-grilled barbecue, lobster tail with smooth mashed potatoes, and banana creme brulee.

While you and Jean walked down the aisle together as a bridesmaid and a groomsman earlier, your short conversations were mostly made up of pleasantries and silly banter that was commonplace in your friend group.

The reception was gorgeous, perhaps a tad bit too excitingly lavish for Sasha's tastes, but seeing her guests enjoying the celebrations made her extremely happy. However, in the midst of the merriment, one of the bridesmaids in emerald green was scribbling away in a corner, coming up with the next big hit for the local magazine.

"Are you perhaps the Managing Editor of The Marleyan Synergy? I could've sworn I've seen your face before," a familiar voice cut through your thoughts, a wine glass filled with sweet rosé gently pushed in your direction. From across the table sat one of the groomsmen in a pressed white dress suit, his golden necktie tastefully loosened.

"I'm pretty unforgettable if you ask me," you replied, setting your pen down on the table. "How have you been, Jean?"

"Been good. Handled a few cases here and there," he nodded at you. "And you?"

"Been good," you echoed, your serious facade slowly breaking as your painted lips curled into a smile. "Come on, Jean. It's not like we haven't been talking through text and on Facetime for the last ten months."

"Haha, you're right, you're right," he beamed at you. "Did you know that Mika knows your editor-in-chief? She calls him 'big brother'. When she mentioned it just recently, I was only able to make sense of it now."

"You didn't know that Eren from Connie's block in uni was Zeke's little brother? And that he and Mikasa were childhood friends?"

"That was a finer detail I missed. If this were a case, I probably would have tanked it. I always wondered why Eren hated my guts. Hated how I was always around Mikasa in general," Jean laughed. "I suppose it takes one to know one, making us cut from the same cloth. It was just like how I disliked your ex-boyfriend hanging around you all the time."

You watched how his expression changed from pensive to hopeful, a twinkle of wonder lighting his brown eyes as he steadily held your gaze.

"I've made my peace with Mikasa, if you're curious. Turns out that girl's been hiding some serious feelings for her childhood friend, too. Funny how our common ground both became our launching pad to reach into the unknown," he started, not at all missing a beat. "I just wanted to say that I've never felt sorry for you even for once when you finally made your feelings known to me. More than anything, I felt terrible that I couldn't respond to you in the way you deserved. I was so scared of things changing between us that I tried to deny it."

"Jean…"

"You know, I got the scolding of my life when I came home to Trost after my oath-taking when my ma heard all about what happened between us," he said with a low laugh. Yes, Jean vividly remembers the way his mother hurled the Yellow Pages at him after he opened up about your feelings for him and how he had such a hard time determining how exactly he felt for you.

"How could you be so blind, Jean-boy? You could be Trost's finest lawyer, but you're sloppy with your relationships! You always looked at her like she placed the sun in the sky—"

He determined that he could go a day without even seeing the lovely Mikasa, but it always drove him nuts whenever he never saw you. And between you and Mikasa… he was pretty damn certain your conversations were always more fun. That was the beauty of knowing someone forever, he thought. Everything seems natural at this point in time.

"I'm certain about what I feel for you now. And I'm not asking you to get together with me yet. That would be asking for too much too soon. If it's all right with you, maybe we can start—"

Wait, what exactly is happening? Somehow, the noise of the party was drowned out by Jean's confession, one that came a little bit late but still came regardless.

"From the very beginning?" You interjected, your smile uncontrollable at this point.

"As friends."

"We already are, remember?" You replied, slowly getting up from your cushioned seat. "Are you still afraid of things changing between us?"

He followed suit, shaking his head at your question. "Not anymore."

That corner of the party was yours. That very moment was yours to make as well. Standing beside you in that very corner was the very same Jean you've been hopelessly in love with for the last 20 years. Only this time, you weren't so hopeless anymore.

"Good. I suppose doing this wouldn't bother you anymore."

You slipped your hand into his and gently tugged him down your way for a kiss, one that tasted of sweet rosé, a little bit of courage, and absolutely no regrets.

"Twenty years is a long time, Jean. Are you really sure you want to start things over again?"

There he saw it, the warmest and most amused smile on your face, the one he's always liked. From the very start.

"Now that you mentioned it, I think you're right," he said, his smile as wide as yours now that your embarrassment broke through your feigned confidence. "Wanna go on a road trip or something?"

"Oh?" You quirked a curious eyebrow at him. "Where to?"

"Home."

But with your hand in his now, there was no need for any road trips. You've been home the very first moment he pulled you close, all those years ago.

*Cue Sasha's bouquet toss and reader catching it because it was specifically aimed at you lol.*

Author's notes: Hello! Before everything else, I just wanted to say thank you for picking up this fic. It's one of my newer works and has a very special place in my heart. After a lot of thinking, I decided to crosspost this fic here on Tumblr and I am hoping it will receive just as much love here. ♡ — I use "Otome" as a placeholder for "Y/N" because I thought it looked much nicer in the stories I write. The term "Otome" is from otome games, or maiden games, and in this piece Otome would literally mean maiden, or Maiden-chan, which pretty much means Y/N. — I initially had something in the works for Levi back in 2021. I never really got around to developing that one and instead shifted my focus to Call it Magic. I think boyfriend material x lawyer Jean is pretty neat! (He also kinda reminds me of my own boyfriend.) I didn't actually include a lot of lawyering here since I actually have no idea. I recall my boyfriend wanted to take up law before but his mother didn't like it for the same reason I wrote here lol. Unlike Jean, he didn't exactly pursue it in the same roundabout way. I have very little to say about this except apologies for the angst, and this may or may not be the last time I write something for Jean. Hopefully the right inspiration strikes and I find the motivation to bring out another fic in the chiller lol! ~ Mari / SongsOfAdelaide ♡

✦ Original Tumblr post ✦ AO3 link ✦

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#attack on titan #aot #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fanfiction #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x yn #jean kirstein x you #reader insert

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juliafied · 1 year

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Face to Face

Chapter 4: When You're Smiling and Astride Me

Fandom: Hades

Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus

Rating: Mature

Chapter(s): 4/5

Words: 8765

AO3

Summary:

Thanatos can’t remember the last time he went on a date that wasn’t with his email inbox, so Charon sets about rectifying the situation by making him a profile on a dating app. Sifting through guys who fish and tourists looking for one night stands, Thanatos comes across his childhood best friend, who he hasn’t spoken to since their strange parting as teenagers. Thanzag modern AU, online dating.

It would have been easier if Thanatos had changed. If he’d become full of himself, like the stereotype of the successful finance guy that he is, or if he’d become one of those weird conspiracy theorists that have been cropping up all around lately. That is, if their friendship had been one of convenient proximity and not of genuine connection.

But he’d been just the same. Self-deprecating, dry yet somehow still affectionate, quick to fluster at Zagreus’ teasing. Exactly as they’d been as kids, climbing with their sandwiches to the top of the hill overlooking the ancient ruins in their neighbourhood, laughing at the tourists with their funny hats and single-use cameras. Just a little taller. Better-spoken, maybe. No longer nervously tossing too-long bangs out of his eyes. He wishes… he wishes he’d asked him about the last seven years, about something other than a college fling that had clearly meant so little that Thanatos had barely remembered the guy’s name. About who he spends time with on the weekends, and if he has a favourite coffee shop closer to work. If he still likes to read everything he can get his hands on. Whether he's been in love.

Achilles nudges him out of his thoughts – the stranger has bought the three of them shots. “You alright, lad?”

“Not sure,” Zagreus says truthfully as the bartender expertly flips his bottle of tequila and fills three shot glasses to the brim. Achilles’ admirer flashes a smile in their direction that doesn’t extend to Zagreus. They’re passed three limes by the bartender, and a moment and a ‘cheers’ later, the alcohol has burned its way to a warm place in Zagreus’ stomach.

He watches as Achilles leans in close to yell in the stranger’s ear, whose hand has migrated to the back of the barstool, thumb grazing Achilles’ shoulder periodically, and this annoys him, though Zag’s not sure why. He finishes his other drink that’s mostly melted ice at this point, but the guy behind the bar is busy again, so he thumbs through the menu. Checks his phone – an email’s come in, from Athena thanking them for their hard work on the grant they’d submitted this afternoon, and a text that’s an overly formal but expected request for a catch up lunch from Meg. He swears she must have a reminder in her calendar. First Friday of the month, check on Zagreus. Scheduled, just like everything else in her life. He slides his phone back in his pocket just in time to order another drink, and before long a margarita is in front of him, ice-cold and beading with condensation. By the time he finishes it, Achilles’ new friend’s hand has made it off the back of the chair and onto Achilles’ waist. Zagreus scowls and taps him on the shoulder.

“Should we dance?”

The booze is thick and heavy in his limbs as they make their way slowly to the most densely-packed part of the club, closest to the speakers and the dense, hard bass that slams into Zagreus’ heart with every beat. He’s not a very good dancer, but Achilles is, moving with ease, catching more than a few eyes around him. Zagreus can’t say he’s never thought about it before, especially back when he first joined the lab, assigned to be mentored directly by basically a demigod in a dress shirt. Even now, as Achilles tosses his hair and shoots a smile over his shoulder, there’s a twinge of something in the pit of Zag’s stomach.

And that’s when he spots him.

Keep reading on AO3

#don't look at that chapter count increasing ok #also I'm (sort of) back?#posting on tumblr for the first time in forever #grad school has been kind of killing me #my solution: being late getting to the lab to post this lmao #julia writes #thanatos/zagreus #thanzag #modern au #online dating au

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lazulian-devil · 4 months

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Antoinette Burgund or the story of how I as a Sims Player actually laughed out loud in exasperation several times because holy fuck, this was a bad idea but also weirdly funny?

Let me tell you the story of my latest Sims 3 Adventure (its wild, my dudes):

We start out with a single mother, whos running away from her abusive boyfriend and therefore has:

- no money

- no skills (thats because she just spawned in)

- no connections

- no qualifications (my rule was, that she could only get a parttime job once she reached Lvl 5 in a skill and a full time job once her baby is a Teenager, because at that point, she should have enough "references" that she could take a lowlevel job. She was also not allowed to take any job that payed more than 30 Simoleons an hour at entry level).

Her name is Antoinette Burgund and she looks somewhat like there were fairies in her line, but she wasnt blessed with that particular gift. She and her son get set to 0 Familyfunds via cheat and then we start.

Her goal in Life? Learning all recipes. As a woman that constantly hungers, such luxuries fill her dreams.

She moves into a new neighbourhood and its hell. Her kid is constantly hungry, shes constantly tired, neither of them can sleep. She spends most of her time in the library to learn some essential skills (and because there are benches and computers) or at the gym, for showering. At some point, she realises there are dumpsters behind the gym but I - the Player - foolishly decide that she still has too much pride and try managing without.

This last about half an in game week of hunger and constant exhaustion (this is the first time I had a Sim with wishes like "buy a stove" or "buy a shower". Very immersive!) before she dumpster dives with a crying baby behind her in the parking lot. Luckily for her, she actually finds good stuff that she can sell via "eBay" and therefore can finally buy a crib and a sleeping bag. From learning gardening at the library, she also has slowly fruiting tomatoes and grapes.

Though she is constantly hungry anyways. With a combination of fishing, gardening and dumpster diving, she eventually manages to buy a 4*4 "shed", with a toilet, outside shower, etc. Its... Not going well. She cant buy her toddler much to play with, making him reliant on weird gifted doll that occupies all his time. And her diet consists of apples, tomatoes and the occasional dining experience. Mostly stealing from public picknick stuff though.

When Julian grows up, Antoinette leaves him to his own devices while she tries to provide for him. They barely talk, as her shift follows right after his schoolday and by the time she gets home, he tends to be asleep.

But she always puts food in the fridge for him and when he wishes for something, she makes it possible. Julian is an artistic child, so she signs him up for after school ballet classes and gets him an easel to paint with.

At some point, while Julian is at home and Antoinette is in the library at night, she decides to marry into a wealthy family. Shes pretty enough and charming, so she starts online dating and actually matches with someone she knows to be rich. Even though it feels wrong, she knows that her boy wont have a good future when the tax payment takes about a fifth of what they have. Adding to the shed is expensive, her fruit dont sell for much and her job makes her around 100 Simoleons per day.

And she would do anything for her boy. Trying to set up a meeting is denied several times, but the rich man (someone by the name of Van Ghoul) and her text and he seems nice enough. One day, she decides to just visit his house and is practically marveled at the size of it. She also learns why her phone boyfriend isnt meeting up with her: Hes married. So much so that his adult son opens the door. Adult and very much single.

Also, a vampire. But after everything shes been through, why shouldnt she have immortality? She deserves the power. She deserves the strength.

So she seduces his son, a man that barely knows hardship. Who drives a car that costs more than she ever had in her life. He is nice though. Incredibly so. He doesnt complain about being taken out to cheap dinner or going to free places. Hes a good man, all things concidered.

Then it happens. Antoinette asked him out after she got a promotion. Hes ecstatic and takes her out to the feygardens, Antoinettes favourite place. They walk and talk (and woohoo) in the Aboreum. Its perfect. She wants to propose then and there, ask him to move in, meet her boy.

But, as they walk outside, a meteor strikes both of them dead. He dies, in an instant. Antoinette does too. But death is so amused by her constant misfortune, that he lets her live.

The meteor also turns out to be worth a fortune, enough for her to upgrade the shed into a small house.

[This was by far the funniest part of the playthrough, it was so unexpected].

Broken, grieving and utterly convinced that life just hates her, she goes to a bar. Everything was looking up, her boyfriend loved her, they wanted to marry. Her son was having good grades despite everything and even made some friends!

She walks into the bar, confused and worried and all kinds of messed up. The barman, for some reason, is immediately smitten with her. She doesnt know it yet, but the man that buys her a drink and makes her laugh about everything is also rich. She wont know for quite some time more. She doesnt really care.

Joe McDuff calls her again and again and over the years, while her boy becomes a Teenager, she falls for him. Hard.

Julian now goes to artclass after school, becoming a magnificent painter. All the time she spent playing xylophon with him have put the music into his soul and he gets more and more artsy as the years go by.

Eventually, Joe tells her everything: He doesnt have a job, all his money comes from his dad, he doesnt have a fancy car or anything else, but he loves her. So much. He would marry her right now.

And they do. With only the Player and her son as witness, Joe and Antoinette marry in front of the shed, mid summer, and he leaves his home and family behind. They call, worried, but Joe promises them a party once everything is settled and they reluctantly let him go.

He doesnt bring much money, but its enough to add a few rooms to the house and give Julian his own room. They even buy a computer and as a gift to his stepson, Joe gets him a guitar.

It turns out that Joe has absolutely no skills whatsoever, but hes a sincere man that left the comfort of his home for the love of his life. They'll make it work.

[He is useless. I lobe him, but he is such a spoiled child. Also he wants to become an Athlete, so making him jog everywhere is weirdly funny to me]

Not too long after that, Antoinette is pregnant and the family party needs to be canceled in favor of the new baby: Cesare. Born on the night of Julians prom. He comes home late, gets arrested and scolded by his mother and put to house arrest.

Yup. Poor Julian.

This was a wild fucking ride and it was so much fun. I sincerely never struggled this hard to keep them alive and well, and it was the most fun Ive had in a while with Sims 3! Cant wait to get back to the idiots.

(Also, play with unlucky Sims. Its fantastic).

#the sims 3 #the sims ultimate collection #sims 3 #antoinette burgund #my sims

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rhysbradley · 21 days

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QUICK STATS ;

Name: Rhys Thompson Bradley

Nicknames: None - just Rhys

Age: 38

Gender & pronouns: Male & he/him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Time in Wilmington: From the age of four to 18, then the age of 30 onwards

Occupation: Owner of TRIC

Neighbourhood: Masonboro

Relationship status: Single

Face claim: Theo James

Please read below for his introduction !!

TW: Death, pregnancy, abortion

Rhys was born in Kent, England and was raised by his single mother. She never mentioned his father, and that was absolutely fine until she grew very sick, very fast. She passed away when he was four, and that was when Rhys learnt who his father was.

He was a mayor of a town in the US (Wilmington) and he met Rhys' mom when visiting the UK for business. Robert Thompson had a one night stand that resulted in a bastard son, and he wanted nothing to do with him apart from send his mother money each month to make sure they were cared for.

That was until Rhys' mother grew sick, and she begged and pleaded Robert to take in Rhys so he didn't fall into the system. Begrudgingly, the guilt got to Robert and he agreed to care for his son. Rhys' mother passed away and he moved to Wimington, to live with his father and the rest of his 'family'.

His childhood was pretty bleak. His father barely tried to bond with Rhys, his stepmother barely acknowledge his existence, and he didn't feel any warmth towards his siblings. Trauma came again when Rhys was eight, and his father was found dead in the family home. Things for him became pretty miserable at this point, and he was like the quiet, weird kid in school who everyone knew was the black sheep of the Thompson family.

But then he went to high school and massively distanced himself from his half-siblings, and began to grow into his own person. Here he made friends for life (WCs????) and started to thrive. The second he turned 18, he left town to get away from the Thompson's.

He dabbled in jobs here and there in other States, then moved to Australia. He worked there for some time, then onto New Zealand, South East Asia, and across Europe. It wasn't until things came to a halt when he spent one hot and heavy week with a woman in Koh Samui and she fell pregnant.

He was STUNNED and panicked at the thought of becoming just like his dad, and so he was ready to give up everything for his child. However, the woman came to the decision to have an abortion, and Rhys supported her in this.

Absolutely horrified at who he was becoming, Rhys made the decision to return to Wilmington. He had decided he had grown enough as a person and pushed enough distance between himself and his family that they weren't going to bother him anymore (lol).

He decided to enrol in classes to get a business degree, and he now owns TRIC in Wrightville Beach

WANTED CONNECTIONS / IDEAS.

Anyone from an affluent family in Wilmington: Growing up a Thompson, Rhys probably met a bunch of other kids from affluent families in town because his dad and step-mom probably rubbed shoulders with them to try and get votes for Robert to become Mayor.

High school friends who turned friends for life: Now this one is a biggie. I HC'd that the friends Rhys made in high school pretty much became his family. This was a family HE chose, and they're still best friends now after all this time. He would do ANYTHING for these people. They're his rock, entirely.

High school sweetheart: I wouldn't say Rhys was 'popular' in high school, but he had a good solid circle of friends at this time. She would've never been introduced to his family because he hated them.

Regulars at TRIC: While Rhys is the owner, he actually spends a lot of time behind the bar serving drinks and talking to people. He likes to be hands on, and he likes his customers to feel they can trust him, and tell him if something is good or shit, and what he can do better on. Plus he loves talking shit to anyone all every day.

Exes: Rhys has definitely had a relationship or two since he returned to Wilmington when he was 30 (he's now 38). Tldr he pretty much has attachment issues because his mom died when he was four, and then his dad died when he was eight. Plus his step-mom is a bitch sooooo. He struggles with attachment to other people.

Hook ups: Because Rhys struggles to attach, he's pretty great at hook ups. He will sleep with you then leave before the morning. He won't leave his number (unless you're incredibly hot).

Friends with benefits: He won't necessarily sleep with a woman more than once, unless she's hella his vibe and is great in bed.

People he travelled with: Kinda niche connection because it means your character needed to have travelled the world a bit, but while Rhys is pretty independent, he would've loved having a travel buddy for a while.

People he met in other States between 18 - 20 years old: Before he left to travel, he hopped around States in the US to earn some money and to travel a little bit.

#( intro. )#wnc.intro

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wcndxrlust · 21 days

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━ INTRODUCING SHIVANI RAO

full name. Shivani Rao

nickname(s). Shivi, Vani, SV

age. 33

birthdate. November 16th 1990

occupation. Dance Instructor / Owner of Feel the Beat dance studio

currently living in. Midtown

gender. Cis Female

pronouns. She/Her

hometown. Mumbai, Maharashtra, India

length of time in Wilmington. Five Years

face claim. Kiara Advani

connections. // pinterest.

trigger warnings. none

BIOGRAPHY;

Shivani Rao was born in Mumbai, India into a very loving home. She was the younger of two sisters and had no complaints throughout her early childhood. Her father and mother got the opportunity to move to New York when Shivani was about eight years old. They were going to be managing a Indian grocery store location in the suburbs and the girls would be transitioning to becoming American citizens. Her mother was already a US citizen as she had been born there, but her father had to work extremely hard to gain his own citizenship and while the girls were still young, and one of their parents was a citizen they were also able to gain citizenship a little easier.

Middle school was the worst time for little Shivani’s life as she just did not fit in. She felt like while she was in a prominently Indian neighbourhood, she didn’t fit in with the kids born there either. And so she all but threw herself into dance. Dance had been a love of hers since she was back home in India and allowing it to move with her to New York had been important for Shivani. This love allowed her to thrive on a public stage and gain fame even if it was through the community. Still her father saw something in her performances and encouraged her to apply to Juilliard. At this point despite being relatively middle-class, she didn’t want to apply knowing that if she got accepted but didn’t get a scholarship all her dreams would crash. But given her financial standing and her exceptional talent, she’d managed to get a scholarship.

Those four years getting her bachelor of fine arts in dance had been nothing short of wonderful. She had found friends who understood that level of dedication and passion that she possessed as well. Upon graduation she’d opted to work on off-broadway for a few years and had been part of some shows while continuing to audition for broadway level shows as well. One day she’d been told she was one of the top two contenders and Shivani had to do anything she could to become the one on top. She did. She edged out her competition, her best friend at the time and made it.

The success was short-lived though as it was during one of the shoes that her harness snapped and she fell to the stage from a bit of a height. Shivani’s ankle was severely damaged. Enough that the position would be filled by her understudy, that same best friend who had been her competition. Becoming a failure hadn’t sat well with Shivani at all and while her family told her that it was okay and she could always move back home to Queens, New York—she refused to do that. She had been living a life in Manhattan—she couldn’t go back to living with her parents.

It took some time and a lot of different applications sent around the country until finally one picked up in Wilmington, North Carolina. They had a vacancy for a dance instructor and so Shivani packed up her belongings and made her way there. It had been an adjustment but she’s now been here for about five years and managed to buy out the previous owner of the dance studio as well. Her injury made is so that she couldn’t really ever put as much pressure on it as she once used to during practices but she was still able to teach dance and so she continues to do that, while trying to make peace with what her life could’ve been had she perhaps not messed up in the way she did.

HEADCANONS;

shivani is quite religious and has a little mandir set up in a corner of her home.

she's often humming the latest indian track she's heard and ensuring everyone around her listens to it as well.

she loves cooking and will often be cooking for people even if they don't ask.

shivani's got two tattoos, both on her rib cages. one that says 'naach' which means dance in devanagari script. and the other is a pair of ghungroo's which was the first dance form she learnt.

she's classically trained in kathak, and jazz officially but doesn't get the chance to teach that anymore and does more hip hop and freestyle along with some simple ballet.

she will go to despicable lengths for a costco chocolate chip cookie, and the subway ones as well.

she misses her family quite a bit but knows that if she heads back to new york she'll feel like a failure because the rest of her family is successful and she doesn't think she's lived up to the potential her father saw in her.

she is almost always carrying a mini pharmacy in her purse, that and pretty much all essentials at all times.

has a little havenese dog that is named rolo and he is truly the love of her life.

attended a bachelorette party in vegas and ended up married on a whim. her parents still don't know and she'd prefer to keep it that way. (besides they got it annulled--maybe? 👀)

#wnc.intro #intro | shivani #bio | shivani

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afracturedstory · 1 year

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It’s been a long time since I visited these halls. I felt something deep inside me, calling out, to come back and write down my story. I’ve never been one for words, I’m a reader, not a writer - but I need to get some things out of my head and into the world. These feelings just won’t go away and I’m hoping that this will somehow fix something in me. I keep having these weird breakdowns. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going. I have student debt and nothing to show for it. No career, no connections, no practical skills, no want, no desire, no motivation, no job, no money, no life.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. I think my brain found one coping mechanism - repression - and it stuck with it. I remember bits and pieces when I hear other people mention certain things. They’ll talk about a time they walked to school, and I’ll remember the time I tried to do the same, at 5 years old, and my father rolled up beside me in the car, the most panicked I have ever seen on his somber face. He simply said “get in” and I did. I was so terribly confused. I was just walking to school. My older brother was allowed to walk to school alone and I wanted to as well. I knew the way, so I just put on my backpack, my shoes, and started walking to school. When we arrived back at home, the entire neighbourhood was out looking for me. Or at least it seemed that way. A few neighbours from across and down the street were outside, which I remember being quite odd. That many people were never outside at the same time.

That is probably my most vivid memory, and one of the only, I have from being a child. Others are simply glimpses of a friend’s big, fluffy orange cat, eating cold KD with ketchup for lunch because I liked it that way, or watching a friend play Halo while her dad was out (I had no idea what Halo was at that time). I moved around so much that I think my brain repressed a lot of things. Not trauma, but traumatic for my innocent little mind. A lot went on in my early life that I could not comprehend at the time. And then, suddenly, I woke up. We moved to a new city, not for the first time, but for the first time to a new province. We didn’t know anybody. I started at a new school. I made a friend simply for being a “smart kid” and so my friend was the other “smart kid”. A year later, she introduced me to a girl who I believe, to this day, was my soulmate. Though she did not feel the same way about me. She was a free spirit, independent; the same things people told me I was, but we were far from the same.

Looking back, she taught me everything I needed to know about the world. She took an innocent, scared child and made me into someone who understands mental illness, addiction, why people act the way they do, she taught me that I could do whatever I wanted, skip school, shoplift, tell people how I really felt about them (good or bad). It’s strange to have been so deeply influenced by a person who seemingly had no interest in me for the majority of the decade that we were friends. She absolutely broke my heart when she said that we had only really been friends for two or three years. And then cut further the more she told me what she thought of me. I already knew those things about myself, I didn’t need my soulmate telling me those things. I lashed out, as I do, and eventually, after months of telling her to fuck off with her drunken calls, I finally was rid of her. The girl who shaped the woman I am today.

I’m not sure if this will turn into anything, or if it will just be ramblings from a heartbroken girl, but I’ll be using this space to share my memories, before, during, and after my time with my soulmate. Sometimes I’ll be angry, sometimes tired, sometimes sobbing as I write these words. Sometimes I’ll make no sense at all, and sometimes I’ll be searching for the sense in my experiences. Whatever happens, I hope that each time, I’ll feel a little better than before.

#stories

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clitsuckerer · 2 years

Text

apple of my eye

dilf!dreamwastaken x fem!reader

WARNINGS- dilf!neighbour!dreamwastaken cheats on his wife with you, mostly dreams pov, infidelity, no specific age mentioned for the reader but the reader is 18+ and younger than dream!!, light yandere themes, pervy dream, age gap, innocence kink, voyeurism, size kink, sir kink, dream is not the best dad or husband in this uhh, but he's good to you so, no mention of readers dad because daddy issues ig, dream n glasses is a warning in itself

SUMMARY- dream hates his life but he loves you, his new sweet little neighbour.

WORDS- 7.7k+

masterlist

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the sound of the doorbell broke through the chaos of the house, boxes strewn about and kids screaming down the spacious hallways.

dream and his family had just moved into this posh new house that his wife had whined and begged for, saying that they just had to upgrade from their humble old home to this more than pretentious house now that they were making more money than they ever had, always whining his ear off about how she wanted the kids to live nice and how she deserved it.

deserved it my ass, she did fucking nothing all day except whine his ear off and drink wine.

letting out a big sigh when the doorbell rang again and it had yet to be answered, dream removed his reading glasses and reluctantly hauled up off of his office chair and down the stairs, passing boxes and clutter with unhappy grumbles and annoyed grunts until he finally reached the front door.

opening it he was greeted with the sight of a middle aged woman smiling all too brightly for his grumpy mood, it was almost headache inducingly bright but the little glimpse he got of a young girl standing next to the lady made all his annoyances go away in a heartbeat.

the woman was talking but everything sounded muffled to dream, gorgeous eyes peaked up at him from behind thick eyelashes, looking at him with curious but shy eyes and his heart melted right there when you shuffled your feet and gave him a charming little smile.

you were such a sweet little thing, all dolled up in your cute dress and mary janes, lighting up his doorstep with your infectious smile as you stood with your mother holding a plate of delicious looking homemade cookies. your adorable beauty had dream absolutely awestruck.

“excuse me, hello?” dream was snapped back to reality when your mother waved a hand in front of his face, slowly dragging his green eyes away from the cute girl on his doorstep and back to her.

“oh uh- sorry, what did you say?” dream managed to stutter out in his dumbstruck state that you had unknowingly knocked him into, his eyes immediately sneaking back to you after a second of looking away.

“i said hi there, we're your neighbours! we live right next door, we just wanted to welcome you to the neighbourhood and bring you some cookies.” the woman in front of him spoke, she was very warm and welcoming though he still couldn’t tear his eyes off the beautiful young girl he could see patiently standing next to her.

“uh hello, nice to meet you,” clearing his throat, dream tried his best to tear his eyes away from you, the glint lighting up his green eyes like a teenager discovering a new all consuming crush and he damn near felt like that too. “and who are you?” the question just came blurting out, he had to know who the angel gracing him with her presence was.

“oh! this is my daughter, introduce yourself dear.” your mother nudged you toward the handsome man, looking up at him with a shy smile when you stumbled to a stop in front of his towering figure. his grumpy attitude was instantly lifted the moment your free hand connected with his outstretched one, the feel of your soft skin against his sending shock waves all throughout his body the moment your hands connected. your hand was so small and delicate in his he felt that if he squeezed even a little bit too hard you would break, he wanted to break you but not in that way so he was sure to be careful with your precious hand.

“it’s nice to meet you sir!” your voice was so pure, a happy little chirp in it despite the shyness obviously creeping up on you. it made the corner of his plump lips pull upwards into a rare smile, your softness rubbing off on him and making him forget that your mother was still present. all he could focus on was your pretty face looking up at him and your small hand being encased by his much larger one, feeling as if it were made to be held in his.

and the way you called him sir, god did it have him swooning. he had been called it many times by many different people but none had uttered it like you had, none had made him want to hear it endlessly like you.

his fond smile instantly dropped into a cold frown though when the sound of a throat clearing broke him out of his bubble, reluctantly dropping your hand when his wife stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“oh how nice! you brought cookies.” the plate was snatched right out of your hand, taken off of you by his wife without so much as a thank you or even an introduction. dream had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, she’s such a fucking bitch sometimes.

his wife and your mother stood there for a bit, getting to know each other while all he could do was admire you standing in front of him, itching for everyone else to disappear so he could be alone with you. he had never felt this kind of instant attraction before, had never felt his heart skip so many beats when you would catch his eye and smile shyly at him.

apparently your mom had invited them around for dinner later that night which he only learned once his wife had started scolding him for not being ready to leave when it got to the time they had arranged to be there, he had been way too busy sneaking glances at you to listen to their conversation so to say he was in a bad mood when they arrived was an understatement. it was instantly replaced with a warm feeling though when you answered the door in your prettiest dress and a breath-taking smile that he could have sworn was directed solely towards him.

for some reason, just seeing you made him forget about his bitching wife and rowdy kids, just the brush of your dainty fingers against his when you took his coat from him had him yearning to hold your hand in his once again.

your mother had insisted that you give dream a little tour around your house while her and his wife finished up dinner and cared for the kids, which he was very thankful for as it meant he got to be alone with you for a while, he would take any time he could get with you at this point. it also happened to be a plus that he got to be away from his headache inducing family.

"and this is my room!" dream looked around your cutely decorated room, memorising everything as you jumped on your stuffed animal covered bed, landing on your stomach and bouncing lightly on the soft mattress causing your dress to ride up and expose your plush thighs and a peek of your ass to dream’s perverted eyes.

the picture of fucking you dumb in all different kinds of positions flashed through his mind, he wanted to defile you on this very bed when you turned around to rest on your back, hugging a stuffed walrus to your chest and looking up at him with sparkling eyes.

he could do so much to you right now, you were just staring into his eyes like you were asking him to make a move and he was so close to doing something, so close to ruining you while both of your families were just downstairs. he was so absorbed in the moment that he didn’t even hear his wife calling his name from downstairs until her footsteps thudding up the stairs snapped him out of his stupor.

his cock was hard for the rest of the night, he had to sit through dinner with your parents and his wife and kids with a hard on that you had unknowingly caused and the most lewd and dirty thoughts of you running through his mind, all while you sat across from him, looking so utterly oblivious to the newly formed infatuation engulfing him.

after they had eaten dinner and dessert they had gotten ready to leave, while dream’s wife and your mother were discussing more dinner plans and cooing over the sleepy children dream was saying goodbye to you, embracing you for a suspiciously long time and smelling your sweet scented hair before he went home and waited until his wife was sleeping soundly next to him to jerk his aching cock, the thought of you the only thing on his mind when he came the hardest he had in years.

it just so happened that his office window faced directly across from your bedroom window, only a few feet of space between the side of the two houses which allowed him to see almost every inch of your small room perfectly.

the first time that he saw you through your window, it was mid-morning and he was sitting at his desk half invested in the paperwork in front of him when he had looked up for a brief second, quickly doing a double-take when he noticed you through his window, laid out on your stomach and feet crossed together in the air as you read a book on your bed. as if on instinct his eyes slowly ran down the deep arch of your back, coming down to admire the plump curve of your ass through your pretty sundress. he caught himself after a second, scolding himself for checking out your ass again but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back at you, nor could he help the way his dick jumped up the second he laid his eyes on you.

his paperwork was long forgotten, instead of completing it he sat for hours watching you get lost in the pages you were turning, admiring your relaxed figure as the day passed by way too quickly.

he was finally snapped out of his trance when his office door flew open, his screaming son tumbling in quickly followed by his daughter running behind him, he didn’t even realise that they were home he was that entranced by you. dream sighed deeply when they immediately started rambling on about what the other had done, taking off his glasses and exasperatedly rubbing his tired eyes as if to get rid of the thoughts that were still plaguing his mind before he gave your oblivious figure one last lingering glance and got up to deal with his rowdy children.

you had seemed to either like letting the sunlight in or you forgot to close them because ever since that day your curtains were always open, night and day he could always see every inch of your bedroom that you spent a lot of time in. and at first it was somewhat innocent, instead of doing his work he would find himself admiring you while you did random things in your room, everything you did intrigued him to no end, he even moved his desk in front of the window so he could see you better. eventually he had started to neglect his family, spending all day every day locked away in his study under the guise of work but really he was watching you study or paint your nails or watching you dance around to your favourite songs.

you never noticed him, remaining completely oblivious to the middle-aged man watching you flutter about your bedroom all too innocently and he took advantage of that, closing his curtains until nothing but a gap remained so he could watch you without getting caught when he thought that it was too risky.

he tried not to let the guilt of watching you creep up on him, he tried to justify it, really he tried to convince himself that he wasn’t doing anything that wrong, that he wasn’t a dirty old man who was way too infatuated with watching his pretty young neighbour for it to be innocent.

when he would see you outside of his house he couldn’t help but avert his gaze, cheeks a flaming red when you would call out a greeting and send him a cute little wave. he couldn’t look you in the eye knowing the thoughts that he had about you, all the dreams and daydreams of you bouncing on his cock or of bending you over in his marital bed and making you cover the sheets in your juices. he couldn’t look at you properly knowing how many times he had fucked his hand while thinking of you, he felt too dirty.

all of the innocence of the situation, if there was any to begin with, disappeared one sunny tuesday. he had been actually getting some work done for once when he heard a faint girlish humming come from your bedroom, his head snapping up at light speed when he noticed it was you.

blood rushed to his cheeks when the first thing he was greeted by was you sliding off your dress, quickly realising that you were getting undressed right in front of him and he was just watching like a creep.

he knew it was wrong, it was so beyond wrong to watch a girl half his age get undressed without her knowledge but how could he not. you were literally right there, showing him your perfect body covered in a cute little bra and panties. his dick jumped to life when you unclipped your bra, sliding it off of your chest and revealing the side view of your perky tits to him.

how the fuck was he supposed to look away from such a tempting sight?

he couldn’t look away if he tried, utterly fascinated as you wiggled your hips and danced adorably to the tune you were humming. he ached to touch your smooth looking skin, his hand twitching towards his crotch to rub the bulge stirring underneath his sweatpants as he watched you dance around your room, tits bouncing deliciously and he swore it was just for him.

unknowingly he had let his hand slip into his pants and pull his dick out, starting to rub his cock to the sight of you naked and dancing. he was already as hard as a rock and only getting harder as he jerked his leaking cock, his hand moving at light speed to relieve himself quickly.

dream imagined it was your hand jerking him off instead of his own, he knew it would feel like heaven to have your hands wrapped around him, playing with him until your heart's content. he would let you do anything to him. his thumb rubbed at his tip gathering the pre come and spreading it down his pulsating cock, causing a squelching sound to fill his study that sounded so fucking good to dream although he wished it was your juices causing the sound instead of his.

a loud moan helplessly fell from his lips when you faced the window and revealed your perfect tits and pretty pussy to him, your eyes closed and your hands running down your body. ribbons of cum spurted from his cock and covered his shirt within seconds, his high hitting him out of nowhere and hitting him strong.

he didn’t even get a second to really feel his orgasm before he had to quickly slide to the floor when you looked out of your window with curious eyes and your cute nose all scrunched up, seemingly searching for the reason of the strange loud noise and dream could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his orgasm seconds before partly to blame though if he was being honest, being that close to you catching him jerking off not only scared the absolute shit out of him but ashamedly made his cock rise again all too quickly.

after a minute of waiting just to be safe, dream poked his head up to peek at your window only to see it empty. heaving out a sigh, he looked away from the window that your gorgeous naked body had just been gracing, trying to get back to his important work despite his still hard cock making him lose his train of thought every five seconds. even when he wasn't longingly staring at your window he was thinking of you, consumed by the thought of your perfect body that you didn't even know he had seen. it was quite literally driving him crazy, you were driving him crazy.

one day it all changed though. as per usual dream had been hauled up in his office, alone for the day as his kids were at school and his wife was out god knows where when he once again spotted you from his desk, the only thing covering your body a cute pink towel it was obvious you had just gotten out of the shower. of course dream just had to slip a hand in his pants, who wouldn’t in this situation. you look so good with your wet hair and smooth wet skin, fuck if he got his hands on you he would treat you so good.

he froze as he all of a sudden made eye contact with you, basically malfunctioning when you waved at him as if you weren’t only covered by a tiny towel. he didn’t know what to do, he was silently panicking on the inside so when he didn’t wave back like he usually would your eyes travelled down the length of his arm, stopping at his hand that was buried inside of his unzipped pants. he didn't know what you were thinking when you stared at him for a while, once again making eye contact with the frozen man after a minute of looking intently at his still hand.

a mischievous smile grew on your tempting lips, the towel hiding you from him suddenly dropping to the floor and revealing your still wet body to his shocked self. he didn’t know if this was real or not, if he was just dreaming the most realistic dream he’s ever had or if this was a nightmare meant to torture him and any second he would wake up desperately hard and still next to his sleeping wife, still living his boring life that he had grown to despise.

you stared at each other for a while, both waiting for the other to do something first and dream finally said fuck it once he got over the shock of you revealing yourself to him, whether it was a dream or not he would not miss this opportunity. his hand slowly started to rub his dick once again to the sight of you, it felt completely different this time though maybe it was because you were willingly showing him your perfect body or maybe it was the way you started playing with your beautiful tits, either way it got his dick harder than it had ever been.

you bit your lip as you caressed your perky tits, wide eyes watching his hand pump his large dick. knowing that your eyes were glued to his dick made him let out a low moan and move his hand so fast it was just a blur to you both. the guys your age would have no shot if he was already feeling like this, like he could cum from just the sight of you playing with your perfect tits. you weren’t even in the same house for god’s sake and yet you were driving him insane. dream knew you were the prettiest fucking person alive and he knew for sure he was the luckiest man alive to be able to see you like this.

still pumping his dick, he watched you turn around and make your way to your bed, giving him an eyeful of your gorgeous ass which was enough to distract him from wondering what you were doing until you got on your hands and knees on your spacious bed and started crawling up towards the headboard.

something in him snapped when you turned back around with a little grin, leaned back on your headboard and spread your legs, your small fingers reaching down to rub at your swollen clit. it was like something took over his mind, putting him in a trance and making him get up out of his seat, his feet taking him through his empty house, out the front door and straight to your house. he didn’t even bother knocking, he was far beyond courtesies at this point. all he wanted was to finally be buried in your sweet little cunt and absolutely nothing would get in his way of achieving that.

dream stomped straight up to your bedroom, almost kicking down your door in his frenzied rush to get to you and making a beeline right to your frozen figure. he grabbed you by your ankles, dragging you towards the end of your bed earning a squeal from you before standing over you with his large imposing body, panting heavily as he stared down at you with a wild look in his dark eyes.

“do you know how fucking crazy you’re driving me,” his voice was dark and scary when he spoke, sending shivers down your spine. you quickly shook your head from side to side, looking at him like a deer caught in headlights, or more fittingly like a deer that’s been lured into a hunters trap.

his thumb ran tenderly over your plush lips, a manic grin tugging at his own, “hmm, of course you don’t. you’re just an obvious little kitten aren’t you.” the wedding ring on his finger sparkled against the smooth skin of your neck, his hand curling around your throat and dragging you into a feverish first kiss. you were noticeably much more inexperienced than dream but he could care less, just having your soft lips against his was almost making him cream his pants.

you were trying to keep up with his rushed movements the best you could and he applauded you for it, not even he could keep up with himself right now but then again he didn’t really mind it, and you didn’t seem too either judging by the way you whined needily into his mouth.

it was incredibly hard to pull away from your sweet lips, the taste of you was so addicting he couldn’t control himself from kissing you over and over again until the urge for air became too much to ignore for the both of you, reluctantly pulling away from you and resting his head against yours, his hot breaths hitting your kiss swollen lips.

“have you ever had your pussy eaten before, kitten?”

“u-uhm, no.” your bashfulness made his cock twitch in his pants, knowing he was going to be the first person to eat your sweet pussy satisfied him to no end. he was going to make sure that he remained the only person to ever put their mouth on any part of your body.

“do you want me to make you feel good?” his question was immediately answered with a frantic nod and an eager ‘yes please!’ so he got straight to work, his mouth was watering with the need to taste your juices.

he started at your ankle, leaving wet, lingering kisses up your smooth legs as his eyes stayed locked with yours in a sensual gaze. the light kisses tickled you apparently because you let out the sweetest giggles as he did this, which of course made him smile and chuckle against you. fuck his cock was the hardest it had ever been and he was dying to be inside of you but no matter the situation, no matter where you were or what you were doing, you never failed to make him melt inside.

finally he got to your soft thighs, laying loving pecks on the inside of both of them before he pulled back a bit to admire you layed out underneath him. you looked so tiny under him, looking up at him with a flustered face and wide doe eyes. you were just waiting for him to make his move, so eager for him to show you all that you had been missing out on, all that he had been missing out on.

holding your legs spread out for him, dream ran a slim finger through your puffy wet folds, collecting your sticky juices on his finger and rubbing your clit with the shining digits. he watched your hips buck up in utter fascination, appreciating you for a long second before he dived right into your awaiting pussy.

his eyes almost rolled to the back of his head when the taste of your sweet juices hit his tongue for the first time but he wanted to see you while he devoured you, he wanted to see your cute face scrunch up in pleasure and your gorgeous tits push up toward the ceiling when your back arched. he didn’t want to miss a second of it.

dream sucked your clit as harshly as he could before he stuck his tongue out and shook his head from side to side, his warm wet tongue bumping into your sensitive nub over and over again making you cry out and tangle your hands in his hair. you were so reactive to anything he did, even when he pushed his tongue into your tight hole you reacted like it was his dick fucking you and he loved it.

your plush thighs encircled his head despite his best efforts to hold them open, he was way too weak right now to even bother trying to keep them open so he just let you do as you please. his hips started humping against your bed as he ate your pussy like a man starved, trying to get the ache in his cock to go away. his deep groans were vibrating against your wet pussy, his long fingers coming to tease around your entrance before one pushed inside of you and started slowly pumping in sync with the thrusts against your bed.

with a loud cry of his name and a pull of his hair, your juices flooded into his eager mouth, desperately collecting every bit of your sweetness that he could as you came undone under him. dream had never seen anything as beautiful as you in all his years of living, your eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open and your back arched beautifully.

eventually he had to pull away, not only for air but because he was on the verge of cumming from his rutting against the mattress and he really didn’t want to cum anywhere else but on or inside of you. giving your pussy one last long lick dream pulled away with dilated eyes and swollen wet lips, you didn’t look any better underneath him with your darkened face and heavy breaths. it caused a great pride spread through him knowing that he had destroyed you with just his mouth, if you were like this just because of him eating you out he could only imagine the way you would react to his cock.

he leaned back against your headboard with you kneeling between his legs, guiding both of your cute little hands to wrap around his thick length. seeing your pink painted nails contrasting against his leaking red cock made his head fall back and his hips buck up into you, your small hand jerking him off felt amazing, so much better than anything he had ever felt in his life and it was only your hand causing him this much pleasure.

“am i doing it right sir?” your voice was breathy as you seeked his approval, still breathless from your intense orgasm.

“fuck yes- you’re doing so good kitten,” his hips started moving in time with your strokes, bucking up into your hands and almost cumming on the spot when he felt your wet mouth lick at the pre come leaking from his cock. “ah s-shit!”

his hips bucked up without his control when you tried to take as much of him into your mouth as you could, accidentally shoving himself down your throat and causing you to sputter around his cock.

“fuck, sorry kitten,” despite his apology it was very obvious he liked the sensation of your throat around him, so with a giggle you kept trying to shove his cock down your small throat as far as you could. “fuck look at you, so beautiful baby girl.”

one of his large hands reached down to move some hair from your face so he could gaze into your sparkling eyes looking up at him from between his legs, your hands tugging his shaft and playing with his full balls while you choke yourself on his cock.

as much as he wanted you to keep sucking his cock, he knew that he wouldn’t last if you did. it had been so long since he’s had sex and even longer since he last had his dick sucked, plus the view of you on your knees before him, looking up at him as you licked at his dick like you were desperate for his cum- he knew he had no chance in hell of lasting more than five minutes, especially when you started moaning against him.

enjoying the feeling of you mouthing at him for a bit longer, he reluctantly pulled you off of his cock and towards his face to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss, spit gathering between you.

your body was suddenly flipped over onto your back and your legs tossed over his strong shoulders, dream coming to hover over you with one hand resting next to your head and the other guiding his cock to run through your soaking folds.

“so wet for me kitten, does it feel good?” you nodded desperately, a whimpered ‘uh huh!’ falling from your swollen lips had him leaning his forehead against yours, the sensation of his dick parting your soft folds and covering it in your slick made him feel more weak than he had ever felt, it was like you just knocked the breath right out of him but also made him breath easy as you looked into his eyes with an endless amount of trust and hazy lust. it was a weird mix but one he was more than accepting of, he had never felt this way and that's how he knew this was something unique, something to be treasured and taken care of.

you both watched as his cock entered your virgin pussy for the first time, the long and thick shaft splitting you open inch by inch as he stuffed you full of him. your tight walls wrapped around him felt so heavenly, he swore he had never had pussy that felt this good. he briefly wondered if he had been with all the wrong people or if it was just you, just your pussy that was made to be filled by him. stopping himself from jamming his cock all the way into you was incredibly hard, it took everything in him to ease in slowly. you had never taken a dick before let alone one as big as his and it showed with the way you squirmed uncomfortably under him, your hands gripping onto the back of his head tightly and your eyes squeezing shut, he knew he had to take it slow for you.

“it’s ok, you’re fine i’ve got you,” dream comforted you softly, trying to get you to be less tense around his achingly hard cock. it was weird, he had no idea where this softness came from, where this urge to protect and take care of you had appeared from because he had never been like this with any of his past lovers before, not even his wife of more than a decade had seen much of his softer side. “do you want me to stop?”

“no! no, keep going please.” a pained little whimper cut you off, pulling at his heart strings but he kept going until he bottomed out, your pussy hugging him in a vice-like grip when he was buried balls deep inside you.

nuzzling his face into your neck, dream started pumping his cock into your tight walls slowly, just enjoying the feeling of your pussy gripping him for the first time. your moans were getting louder the harder he started fucking you and he couldn’t hold his back either, there was no need to anyway so he let out all the words and moans that slipped past his lips

he was fucking you so good, knocking the breath out of you each time he shoved his fat dick into you, and probably the sense too judging by the way drool was leaking from your open mouth, not even able to make a sound. he could barely make sense of the words that were falling from your lips among the moans sounding in the room but he could discern sir and a very slurred sogoodsogood mixed in there.

“your pussy is so fucking good kitten fuck, made to be fucked by me weren’t you?” dream grunted out, pulling away from your clinging body and leaning back on his knees so he could see your perky tits bounce with every hard thrust he gave. “huh? tell me you were made to be fucked by me baby.”

“yes sir, i-i was made to be f-fucked by you!” your voice was wavering with every word, you were barely coherent but right now you would say or do absolutely anything that dream asked you.

“good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl,” he gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out of you with a grunt, leaving you spread out under him, your pussy empty and hands trying to grab at him. the sight of you all fucked out underneath him was enough to make his mouth salivate. he couldn’t help leaning down to give your swollen clit a harsh suck, groaning at the taste of his and your juices mixing on his tongue.

he continued to jerk his cock while he moved to rest on his back, watching with half lidded eyes as you seemed to get what he wanted you to do, placing your hands on his chest and straddling his large frame between your cute legs, one of your small hands reaching down to position his cock at your entrance and sinking yourself down onto him.

a hand came to cradle the back of your head, pulling you down so your foreheads were resting against each other and your eyes locked in an unbreakable gaze while dream propped his feet onto the bed, his hands grabbing your hips for leverage as he started ploughing his cock into your soaked pussy from underneath you.

an all consuming urge to have you scream had him fucking up into you more relentlessly, wanting to hear your screams of pleasure ring through the whole damn neighbourhood. he could care less about anything else right now, all he could focus on was your tight little cunt squeezing the life out of him each time he filled you to the brim, the obscene squelching noises caused by the good fucking you were getting being drowned out by your loud moans that were getting louder each passing second he continued to bury his cock deep inside of you.

his dick pulled almost all the way out suddenly, only his tip remaining hugged by your velvety walls making you whine pathetically and try to bounce yourself on his cock, wanting to feel him in you once again but dream’s strong hands stopped him from filling you completely despite your best efforts.

“look at you, such a desperate little kitten aren’t you,” his pupils were blown out and his cheeks were flushed as he stared up at you with a dark look glinting in his eyes, wanting to hear your innocent self beg for him to keep fucking you like a whore. “what do you want pretty girl? you want me to keep fucking your pussy, huh?”

“y-yes! please sir, pleasepleaseplease fuck me i need it so bad please.” your voice sobbed out to him, words rushed and jumbled in your fucked out state. you were so ruined for him, so desperate for him to keep fucking you that you didn’t care about how pathetic you were in that moment, you had gotten a taste of him and you didn’t ever want to let go. luckily he felt the same but tenfold, so addicted to being buried in your tight pussy that he couldn’t not give into your pleas, immediately filling you with his thick cock again and continuing his frantic pace.

he hadn’t known this kind of pleasure for a long time, he had never even looked at other women while with his wife, being way too work addicted and somewhat content in his mediocre marriage to notice or care about anything else but now that he had seen you, now that he had gotten to know your cute little self he felt like a completely different man.

you were so wrapped up in each other that you remained completely oblivious to the world around you, not caring in the haze of pleasure and infatuation that the world was still moving outside of you two.

“hello?” dream’s wife called out, setting down her keys and taking off her jacket. “honey, we’re home! where are you?”

waiting for a response for a moment and hearing none she ventured around the house in search for him, after checking all of the downstairs area and most of upstairs she came across his office, the door wide open which was very unusual. he was always so adamant about it always being closed and no one was to ever go in there. she found it incredibly odd when he would get so territorial about it, but she summed it up to not wanting her or the kids interrupting him while he worked.

she cautiously walked in, looking around the dark empty room and discovering that dream was in fact not in there. her brows furrowed as she didn’t see him but she did see a very weirdly placed desk, pushed up right underneath the cracked open window.

what a weird place for him to put his desk.

walking towards it she noticed the scattered paperwork, all of the pages incomplete which was weird for dream as it was almost dinner time and he always used to have his work finished by then. a sinking feeling grew in her stomach when she saw the photo frames containing multiple family pictures turned face down on the unusually messy desk like he couldn’t stand the sight of them, that feeling was worsened when she heard distant sounds coming from outside of the window his desk was residing in front of, the sounds unmistakable despite being muffled.

looking out of his window, she almost didn’t see it at first. from here she could see perfectly into the pretty young girl who lived next door’s bedroom window. she could see everything, she could see the small desk covered with papers and textbooks, she could see the open closet full of pretty coloured clothes and she could see your bed, the bed in which her husband of 10 years and the father of her children was currently fucking said young girl on.

she couldn’t look away, her hands getting clammy and shaky and the tears that were building in her eyes slowly rolled down her cheeks and yet she could not look away from the sight of her husband fucking you more passionately, more loving than he had ever fucked her.

the way he cradled you as you rode him killed her inside, he held you as if you were his whole world and he looked at you like he would give you the universe if you so much as even glanced at it. even when he was carelessly bouncing you on his cock he gazed into your eyes with the utmost love and admiration, he was using your body like you meant nothing to him but it was obvious you meant everything to him.

his wife had found it suspicious when he had a lock installed on his office door, even more so when he would be hauled up in there from the time he woke up to the time he went to bed, sometimes he didn’t even make it to bed, choosing to sleep on the small couch in his study or falling asleep at his desk instead of next to her.

she supposes that was the first of many signs that she should have noticed yet somehow didn’t.

now realising that this was why he spent so much time in this damned room, this was why he hardly spent any time with his family anymore, with her anymore. really she should have known, it was only instinct for men to want to taint the innocent and innocent you were, with your cute little mannerisms and sweet aura. maybe this is all he needed, maybe if he got it out of his system he would come back to her.

the tears eventually blocked her vision, the sounds of your girlish moans mixed with dream’s deep ones echoing in his now cold study, and her head.

deciding not to torture herself any further, she tried to collect herself before opening the door and picking up her children from school, she wiped the never-ending tears falling down her blotchy cheeks, took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile across her face so she didn’t alert the kids.

later when dream would come home, she would act like she saw nothing, like he didn’t look dishevelled and like he didn’t even try to hide it. she would welcome him with a kiss on the cheek as she always does, except now he leaned away from her, barely looking at her though when he did it was with a newfound disgusted and disinterested look.

had he always looked at her like that?

she would notice the little things that have changed, like how he didn’t have dinner with his family anymore and even on the rare occasions when he did he wasn’t really there, always so detached and lost in thought, or how he would lock himself in his office with you now, ‘to help her with school work’ he would tell her, god knows how your mom didn’t catch on though she guesses that's the reason you’re so oblivious, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree as some would say but she does wonder if she hadn’t of seen what she had seen, if she would have even known what was happening behind her back.

everything was suddenly always about you you you, about how well you’re doing in school and how proud dream is of his little muse, he had taken you under his wing to ‘prepare you for the business side of life’. it almost insulted her that he thought she was that dumb.

she wanted to hate you, she wanted to think of you as just a stupid little girl with a school girl crush on the taken older man, but how could she when really she was the stupid one, vying for the attention of her cheating husband who had obviously fallen out of love with her. it was pathetic, but she loved him and in her defence, she really thought that she stood a chance against you.

she would continue to go out places, the thought of what dream was doing at home haunting her throughout the day and when your family would come over for dinner she would continue to be the ever so foolish wife of dream, greeting you with a welcoming smile that hid so many emotions. she would watch insecurely as you interacted with her and dream’s kids like you weren’t tearing their family apart, like you weren't tearing her apart. she felt like an outsider in her own home now, hell she felt like an outsider in her own marriage.

now she noticed the looks that you shared, the infatuated and longing looks that a married man should not be giving a girl your age, like you guys were having your own conversation through your eyes and nobody else could understand it. there were so many words she could use to describe the looks you shared but she tried not to think about it too much, because dream had never looked at her like that and she didn’t know if he ever would though she knew she would kill for him to look at her like that.

she would start comparing herself to you, to your lovely smile and alluring body. she would adjust her clothes and change her hair but nothing would get his attention. she thought if she changed these little things about herself to be more like you, to be something that dream would like, that he would love her again. except she would never be you, she would never taste like you or react like you, she would never suck his cock like you do or call him sir like you do. you were the complete opposite of his wife, all wide eyed and bright smiles whereas his wife was all bitter attitude and boring personality. she could never be on the same level as you, it made dream laugh to think that she thought any part of him could still want her after having you, after filling your sweet pussy with his seed over and over again and claiming every inch of you as his.

admittedly at first dream was mostly attracted to your gorgeous body, to your infectious smile and innocent eyes but over time he found himself obsessed with you, with the way you rambled on one minute and then the next you could barely look him in the eyes for more than two seconds. he knew he couldn’t live without you and he was more than willing to give up everything to live his life right by your side.

no, he could never belong to her again because now he was completely and utterly yours.

A/N- hi!! this took so long to write for no reason lmao i’ll probably edit this some more later but i just wanted to get this out, sorry if there’s any mistakes <3

#mcyt smut #dreamwastaken smut #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt x reader #smut #dsmp smut #dream smut #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader smut #dream team smut #mcyt x reader smut #dreamwastaken x you #dwt x reader #dream smp smut #dream smp x reader

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infernal-fire · 3 years

Text

TAU (1/2)

Summary: Steve Rogers traps you inside his mansion. Your only means of escape? The naïve A.I., Bucky, that is designed to kill you if you ever step out of line.

Pairings: Dark!CEO!Steve x reader, A.I!Bucky x reader, Bucky x reader

This is part of a series of works (not interconnected). I highly suggest you read the description of the series master list to better understand the premise of this story.

Warnings: swearing, kidnapping, mention of sedative, technical Lima syndrome, psychological abuse, violence, blood, character deaths, injuries, mention of depression, suicide & poverty

The chair was on the brink of collapsing, yet Martha folded her arms and leaned back into it anyway. You internally grimaced, waiting for her to fall flat on her ass or give you the bad news. It had to be bad news. You had done this enough times to know that she periodically bounced her right leg only when there was bad news. These days, that was often.

You huffed once, loud enough for her to hear, hoping to hint that you were hanging by the threads of your patience. She took the hint, finally throwing open the drawer in front of you with excessive force. Pens rolled and a notebook slid towards her amid the force. Again, another piece of furniture that was ready to give in. For someone as stingy as her, you aren’t surprised that it hasn’t been replaced - just wondering why she’s treating it like it won’t disintegrate any second now.

Martha’s plump fingers slapped a couple of bills onto the table, her seedy eyes challenging you to pluck them from under her hand. You wrestled the bills out of from under her palm and diligently counted them, only to shake your head defeatedly.

“That’s it?” you snarled.

“Steal better shit next time,” she replied, shrugging.

You slowly sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, refusing to open your eyes and face her.

“I really need the money.”

When you open your eyes again, it’s because you hear the roll of her weathered chair. Now standing full height, the middle-aged woman shook her head softly, a hint of a smirk playing out on her lips.

“Like I said; steal better shit.” She turned to leave before facing you again. “You could always come and work with our girls.”

She glanced through the door that was cracked open, eyes resting on the table situated in the corner of the adjacent room. Around it, a group of girls set down cards while pushing poker chips around.

“Sell my body? I’d rather die,” you scoffed.

“Suit yourself. Now, get out.”

“Was planning to.” You flipped her the bird, knowing that she was watching you leave.

“Real classy,” she called after you. “You gotta come back here for your next week’s dinner, you whore!”

“That’s all you,” you smiled at her before slamming the door closed on your way out. Oh, the satisfaction of pissing someone off; unparalleled.

Placing your measly wage into a makeshift purse, you made your way back home. You hugged your frame tightly, keeping your head down and pacing through the dilapidated neighbourhood.

Once upon a time, when you were new to the shadier areas of town, you affirmed to yourself every day that this situation was temporary. The hope for a better job, better apartment and better tomorrow kept you going for a long time. Deep down though, you knew it wasn’t temporary, and now you were being proven right every day. What was keeping you going these days? Multiple times, you delayed the contemplation of that question, knowing that if you thought about it… well, it’s better to not go there.

You were careful to double-check the lock on your door and windows when you stepped into the cramped shower. Today, you thanked God for hot water, even though you were sure he didn’t exist. Mind empty like a brand new chalkboard, you shuffled around your one-room housing and put together something edible to appease the churning stomach.

Your ear perked up at what sounded like the creaking of the fourth floorboard from your bed. You locked the door. You were sure of it.

Still, you peeked over the short dividing wall that hid the view of your bed from the kitchen. Nothing. You shook your head at your paranoia and turned back to get to the less-than-appetizing meal waiting for you.

Steve jammed the needle into your neck, expecting you to fall back into his arms. Instead, your forehead hits the edge of your counter and you slump onto the floor. Your eyes shutting down and head throbbing, you reach out to feel your attacker and touch Steve with saucy fingers. He groans in annoyance as he picks up your whimpering form.

Thump, thump, thump.

The nightclubs you frequent were full of snobby, rich kids who didn’t know the value of wealth. You stole to survive. They could survive without their wristwatch for one night.

Thump, thump, thump.

Music turned the speakers inside out, deafening those closest to it, but the youth are resilient to damage in any form. For you, though, it was too loud; too much. It wasn’t uncommon of you to walk away from the scene with a pounding head.

Thump, thump, thump.

The inside of your head resembled the thumping of club speakers. Jaw slack and eyes foggy, you tried to rub your temples. But your arms wouldn’t move.

Sitting up the best you could, you looked down at your hands to see them bound by zip ties, sitting on your lap. It was joke-worthy how your captor thought they could bind you with zip ties, of all things. He would have to do better than this.

You tugged on the end of the tie using teeth and tightened it some more before huddling your knees up to your chest. Bringing your hands down as hard as you can against your kneecap, you awaited the snapping sound of the zip tie. Nothing came. You look at your hands again, realizing that they were still bound.

“Don’t do that,” a voice piped up from the dark corner of the room. Startled, you look to the source of the voice but no light fell in that direction. For the first time, you took in your surroundings: half of the room was divided by a set of bars. The other side had large machinery with wires running towards the jail section. As you trailed your eyes across the wires, you noticed a closed door.

At least you knew it was possible to escape now.

Quickly turning to the place the voice came from, you scooted backwards some more and anticipated the arrival of your captor.

A woman crawled forward slowly with bounded legs and arms like yours.

Seeing that it was just another prisoner, you tightened the strap of your zip tie again and tried breaking it one more time. It snapped. Rubbing your wrists where they were bound, you got straight to undoing the bind on your legs. Beside you, the girl moved closer and repeatedly begged you not to free yourself.

“Shut up, Brit,” you mumbled, referring to her accent.

The bind on your legs gave away and you stood up and stretched. Tentatively stalking around the cell, you noticed the toilet and sink. Why would he have those amenities in here if you were tied up anyway? When you went to touch the bars separating the room, the girl cried out again.

“Stop! Don’t!”

You rolled your eyes and touched it anyway. Electricity surged through you and you yelped, pulling back immediately.

“Could’ve told me it was an electric gate,” you snapped.

“Don’t try to escape.”

You looked at her incredulously. “And sit here like ducks, waiting for him to kill us?”

“Someone will find us!” she pleaded.

“Look at me! Look at you! No one is looking for us. The police won’t blink twice if people like us are gone. And he knows that.” You eyed the door that was inside your cell and looked to the other one outside the bars.

“Do you want me to remove your binds or not?”

The girl sheepishly looked down before sticking her arms out for you.

“My name is Peggy,” she offered as she stood up. She held your arm for support when blood rushed to her head. You shot her a withering look in response and she took her hand off.

“I don’t think we can leave. He can probably hurt us with these implants.” Peggy pulled her hair to one side and showed you the nape of her neck. A glowing red triangle shone from under her skin.

Your eyes widened, immediately reached for the back of your head. You felt around and touched the area that stung a little when you touched it. You compulsively hissed, realizing that your implant was fresh and the skin around it had not healed yet.

“Has he done anything to you using the implant?” you held and shook Peggy’s shoulders while you questioned.

“No, no, but he said it collects brain data and that it was connected to my spinal column, so I shouldn’t try anything.”

“He spoke to you?”

“Once. It’s Steve Rogers, the inventor guy on the cover of all the Forbes magazines.”

“Brain data,” you silently repeated as you look to the other side of the cell again.

“I have an idea. Rip your clothes like this,” you demonstrated.

Using the rags ripped off from both of your prisoner uniforms, the pair of you created a long rope-like contraption with a loop on the end. You stuck your hand through the gaps in the cell and tried to fling the loop to a nook in the machinery. Failing hurt, your arm accidentally brushing against the metal once or twice before the loop finally caught onto a crevice.

“That’s the wrong part,” your fellow inmate breathed.

“Yeah, but that’ll work too.” You pulled as hard as you could and a section of the machine broke off, sparks flying from the source. It crackled and caught on fire.

Peggy was pulling the cell door open, grunting as she tried her best. It gave way and you both looked at each other briefly before dashing out of the room. The jail room went up in flames behind you. Peggy looked over her shoulder, but you yanked her arm, signalling her to keep running.

You flew up stairs and through doors, finally making your way into a clearing. Peggy rushed to what seemed to be the entrance door and frantically banged on it.

“HELP!”

“That’s not gonna work!” you rushed to the door and inspected the lock. On the right side, there was a screen that displayed a handprint.

Do not try to escape. Only Steven can leave the premises.

“What?” you whispered. The new voice was coming from all around you, seemingly through fixtures in the ceiling and walls, but you couldn’t be sure. The situation was tense and you were scared the whole house was going to burn down.

Before you could catch her, Peggy planted her hand on the screen which scanned and turned red. Suddenly, all the lights emanated red, accompanying a booming alarm that blared through the house.

In the distance, what you assumed was a statuesque décor piece, came to life. It reminded you of the spiders from the Maze Runner. A motorized killing machine. It stalked towards Peggy and you with pincers appearing from its side.

Screaming, Peggy ran. So did you, but you weren’t sure if you were screaming. You couldn’t hear through the noise your friend was making on top of the deafening alarm.

The spider machine stuck out its knife-like hands, trying to stab you. As you ran into another room, you frantically searched for an exit. Right now, your priority was to survive this thing.

You pulled open a cupboard in what appeared to be the study and instructed Peggy to climb in. The monster was coming. There wasn’t much time to hide.

You shut the closet door and hid behind a lounging chair in the corner.

The machine came in and scanned the room, looking for your heat signatures. It could see Peggy.

The cupboard door flung open and Peggy shrieked, crawling out of it in attempts to move out of the line of attack. She took 4 steps on her knees and looked straight into your eyes.

“HELP ME-”

You screamed when she was dragged back towards the machine. You couldn’t save her anymore. You mobilized and ran back to the living room area, not even turning back to address blood that splattered across your back. It wasn’t in your best interest to find out how she was killed.

“Aries!”

Frozen in fear, you look to your right to see the entrance door open. There stood your captor, staring at the machine that was now hovering over you.

“Stop,” he muttered and set down his briefcase.

Aries retracted its pincers, making its way back to the little pedestal it was perched on before. It powered down just as the CEO stepped into the house and glared at you.

For a split second, the doors were open, and you considered tackling past him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You collapsed onto the floor where you were already lying down. Getting out was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.

Your hands were bound again, but this time, behind you. You were seated on a pedestal like the one Aries was on, except this one had an ugly glass décor piece that extended to the ceiling. You tugged on the bonds, hoping for some leeway, but Rogers had learned his lesson.

You shook your head side to side, trying to get pieces of hair and blood off your face. Eventually, you had to give up, slumping into the post your arms were tied to.

“You cost me 7 million dollars worth of tech,” Steve’s voice sounded from another room.

“If you let me go, I swear on my life I won’t tell anyone. They won’t believe me anyway.”

He appeared in front of you and placed both hands on either side of your thighs.

“Things will work out for you, if you just… shut up.”

You exhaled and turned your face to the right, hoping he’d stop invading your personal space.

“Just… please, untie me.”

He stood back and considered your request before rounding the side of the pedestal and untying you.

“Bucky?”

Yes, Steve.

“Activate Aries if she moves a single inch from her spot.” He eyed you at the end of his command and sauntered away to god-knows-where.

You hoped it wouldn’t be pushing your luck to stand up and stretch, so you did. You mentally considered the various stretches you did as a child, during gymnastics. It had been years since you recalled those, so you did them to the best of your ability. It’s funny how life works. One day you were among a row of girls, learning how to do a cartwheel and before you know it, you’re in a psycho’s mansion as a lab experiment.

About 30 feet away from this pedestal was Aries.

Cautiously, you took a few steps away from your place. No reaction from Aries. That meant ‘Bucky’ and Aries weren’t the same thing. You could also deduce from Steve’s command, Bucky was capable of conversing.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You took another step anyway, wondering how much you could test the limits of this A.I.

Do not take another step forward, Subject 10. I have been told to inflict pain if you move from your position.

You considered making a run for it but reconsidered. Aries would activate in less than 5 seconds and Steve was still in the house somewhere. You needed to play this better. Besides, you didn’t even have an exit point.

You went back to your pedestal and sat down, drawing patterns on the ground with your feet. It would help to know the time or date. A part of you wondered if anyone was looking for you, but you yourself had answered that question long ago. No one looks for people like you or me.

It could’ve been hours or minutes, but finally, Steve called you into a different room. You observed your environment as you stalked towards the kitchen area where the inventor was seated.

“Sit,” he motioned at the chair that was on the other end of the table.

As soon as you sat, tiny robots flew to your seat and placed food in front of you. It was some sort of soup with a side of bread, the only utensil he gave you being a spoon. Smart bastard.

You wanted to hold off on the food; you really did. But you didn’t even get to eat the sandwich that you were putting together before the kidnapping. So you began devouring the meal, ignoring his pointed stare at your lack of table manners. It was only when you were halfway through the meal did you realize that the food may be drugged. Too late now.

“You killed my only other test subject and rendered her data useless.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Steve dropped his steak knife and fork, shooting daggers into your eyes.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he began. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his elbows. You could tell by the way he talked that he was used to getting what he wanted. He relished in it.

“Every day, for the next two weeks, I’m going to leave for work. And every day, you’re going to complete the puzzles and tasks that Bucky tells you to do.”

“And if I don’t?”

“It won’t take me more than 10 minutes to kill you, clean up the mess and dispose of your body.”

“If you could kill me, you probably would’ve. I know you considered it,” you remarked, leaning back into your chair and folding your arms.

“Now, why would I waste a perfectly good test subject?” It was his turn to mimic your body language.

“If you want me to do what you need me to do, I need three things,” you announced.

“It’s funny how you think you have any leverage in this situation.”

You kept your face stoic, trying to prove that you were serious about the negotiations. If he didn’t allow you these requests, you would never escape.

“Okay, go on,” he said, clearly amused.

“I need clothes. Regular clothes, not prisoner uniforms. I need to shower. And I need proper food, like what you’re eating.”

“That’s quite the list.” he laughed. Abruptly, his features turned serious. “I hope you know that you don’t hold any cards against me right now, and if I allow any of those things, it’s out of the kindness of my heart.”

It was your turn to laugh. “The kindness of your heart,” you wheezed between laughs. “Sure, okay. Yeah.”

He swallowed the last piece of his meal and gestured towards the sofas.

“Bucky will be guarding you throughout the night. Don’t think of trying anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you beamed at his sour expression right before leaving the table.

Masterlist

#dark! steve rogers #dark mcu #Dark Fic #dark marvel #dark!steve #dark!steve x you #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n

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ashiemochi · 2 years

Text

aphrotitty - xx

✠ Aphrotitty ↳ Don’t do anything stupid ↳↳ does something stupid

~~ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ~~ genre: fluff, a slice of life, angst, gore at some point, smut/suggestive themes ~~ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

prev -> next

The twentieth time Leon saw her, it was the same day; just around afternoon. He was taking out the trash when a taxi car rolled down to a stop in front of So Ah’s lawn. Leon looked over at the car as its doors opened and a tall woman came out with a baby boy in one arm and a bag in the other – is that fucking Gucci?

The driver popped the trunk open as she went around and then the house’s door opened, revealing So Ah with probably the most exciting look in her eyes.

“Minji!” So Ah exclaimed, running down her porch and the lady, Minji, smiled widely.

“So Ah!” Minji exclaimed back before engulfing her into a one-armed hug around her neck, the other arm still being occupied by the child who was eyeing So Ah with his wide eyes.

“I thought you were going to come tomorrow.” So Ah pulled away before setting her attention on her nephew.

“Yeah, me too, but the session has been delayed till the end of the week, so I thought I’d come now.” Minji said, bouncing her kid a bit as So Ah cooed at him, his hand wrapping around her finger and tried to put it into his mouth.

“Delayed? Why?” So Ah asked, turning her attention to the trunk to take out the luggage, setting them onto the ground with a huff.

Minji shrugged, “Hell if I know, my manager said the place they rented didn’t look like it does in the pictures, so they’re looking for another one.” She said, looking around her to scan the neighbourhood where she was going to be staying for the next week.

“At least they worked it out in the end.” So Ah said, shutting the trunk and then dragged the two black Gucci travel luggage onto the sidewalk, both girls moving aside as the car drove off.

“And now I’ve got lots of time to spare, so you’re gonna show me around!” Minji grinned at her as she walked onto the lawn.

So Ah returned the smile and pulled the luggage behind her. Feeling eyes set on her, So Ah looked over to her side, seeing Leon standing near his car.

Their eyes met and a soft smile reached their lips as she waved slightly at him and Leon nodded. Minji stopped rambling on the porch, noticing that her little sister wasn’t replying to her much and looked over, seeing So Ah picking up and setting the luggage onto stairs and Minji’s eyes trailed to the man next door who made his way back into his home with a ghost of a smile on his face.

She hummed under her breath before walking inside to set the baby down, who wobbled slightly on his feet before he began slowly walking further into the new surroundings, and then she went to help So Ah with the bags.

✠

It was still the same day, a few hours since the lady with Gucci had arrived. He could just guess it was her sister or probably a friend.

Leon was watching The French Connection on his laptop, sipping beer, when his doorbell rang. Letting out a sigh at having his evening interrupted, Leon paused the movie and stood up, making his way to the door. He opened it, seeing the same lady who had a smile on her face, and he could recognize that glint in her chocolate eyes, the same ones So Ah has.

“To who do I owe this pleasure?” Leon asked lightly, leaning against the door frame, eyes scanning her.

She had a soft brown suit jacket with a white button-up shirt tucked inside her matching white jeans underneath. Her cinnamon coloured hair was a bit longer than her sister’s, straighter with very faint waves here and there. His blues caught a golden diamond-adorned wedding ring on her ring finger before Leon looked back at her with a slight quirk of his lips.

“I’m Minji, So Ah’s eldest sister.” She introduced, her voice smooth and warm, and put her hand out.

Leon shook her hand, “Leon.” He said before letting go of her hand.

“Leon...” She repeated, nodding slightly with an impressed look on her face, mumbling in Korean at the end, eyes peering to the side at So Ah’s place then back at him.

Leon gave her a small cheeky grin.

“Well, Leon, I’ve asked So Ah to show me around but she doesn’t know many places and she told me you’ve been around here a lot longer?” She ended her sentence in a questioning tone and he nodded.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Leon crossed his arms, silently wondering what else So Ah has been saying behind his back. Even Jaehyun said he knew him a little due to So Ah.

His heart skipped a beat; she talked about him to her siblings.

“Perfect! I’m wondering if you know any good and safe parks around here. I’m planning a picnic and –” She was interrupted by a loud voice coming from the house next door.

“Minji!”

Minji blinked a few times, unbothered, “Anyway, I’m planning a picnic and since she’s such a wuss to do it, I personally invite you on her behalf to join us for a picnic.” She ended her offer with a smile.

“Sure, I’ll be there.” Leon accepted it, replicating her smile and she nodded.

“Great! Nice to meet you, Leon, and between you and me,” Minji dropped her voice to a whisper, taking one step closer, eyes peering to the side then back to him.

“I can see why she talks about you.” She grinned mischievously and Leon blinked at that – So Ah does have him on her mind.

Minji skipped down the stairs with giddy intent, making her way out of his lawn, her heels clicking against the pavement.

“Oh, also,” Minji called out, turning sideways to look at him with a smile.

“She loves the hair.”

#leon kennedy x reader smut #ocs #resident evil infinite darkness #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader

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hwrryscherry · 3 years

Text

The one where the reader meets Harry as Jack

characters: HARRYxREADER!FEM

blurb: Harry is filming Don't Worry Darling in Palms Springs while Y/N is moving in in her new house in the neighbourhood where the movie is being filmed. Turns out the fate wanted to cross Harry and Y/N's way as a box full of books is very intriguing to Harry and Pride and Prejudice becomes Harry's new favorite.

word count: 2.7K

author's note: Heyy guys, it has been SO LONG and honestly I don’t think this is best work yet lol but anyway, I had the worst writer’s block of my life so it was so hard for me to write a single word. Honestly, I felt kinda pressured to write. I felt like I was pressuring myself for that so I had to take advantage of this block and take this idea out of my mind. I want to say something important too; I really want to say that the only story of mine that I’ll keep the face claim is HARRYxMODELY/N, just because I like to use the photos to make instagram posts sometimes. I will no longer describe types of hair as I used to say ‘’long strands of hair’’, it will be neutral for you to imagine yourself in the story. It’s all about you guys and how you can visualize the story and the character, if you want to imagine a face claim that’s cool but if you don’t want to it’s cool too. Feel free to read and visualize, it’s all about you. Thank you for the support on my account and my writing. I’m aware that I’m not the best lol, but I also think that I have so much to learn from you just as I have to teach. I’m so grateful for everyone who reads and like my stuff. Never forget that you’re unique, you’re loved, you’re so golden and treat people with kindness always.

"Why is it so hot in here? It's fucking December!", you'd think to yourself as you drove your new car through the streets of Palm Springs. The thing is that after you moved from Columbia to reside so many years in New York while you were studying English Language and Literature in Yale, you just got so used with the usual colder weather from NY and it's just a different vibe from California. You had such a hard time to decide what you wanted to do after graduating, though. And after a few weeks and some long conversations with your family, you decided you would go to California. Palm Springs, to be more specific. You decided that because you remembered all the times you went there when you were a kid because your grandmother lived in there before she passed. You remember spending your summer vacation with her and how cool it was. It was in the early 2000′s and there was many kids on your age that lived on her street. You remember playing with them all day and then getting back into your grandma’s house and feeling that cinnamon scent that for some one only her house had. It wasn’t a usual cinnamon scent. It had something special in it. It made you feel so warm and welcomed. You remember helping her to bake the most delicious cookies, brownies and cakes in her kitchen. You remember the kitchen had a yellow counter, but the entire kitchen was white. All very pale and then the cheerful yellow in the kitchen that colored everything. You remember going to play bingo with her and how it made her happy to having you around. You both were so close and you had such a hard time when she passed, but the most important was she taught you so many things during your time together, and you’d never forget those things and her.

As you drove, you’d remember those streets vaguely. You’d pass through the soccer court you typically used to go with the other kids and spent hours playing in there. You were vibing with the song in the stereo as you started getting closer to your new house’s street. It was Carolina by Harry Styles; you have to admit you’re not the biggest Harry Styles fan in the world, but you were definitely a One Direction fan when you were around 16, but you couldn't be considered a directioner either. You just listened to a few songs and thought it was good. But anyway, this specific song is one that you particularly like. It may have something to do with the fact that you’re from Carolina, of course. But it’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were undeniably good though, a little sexual, but good. It’s more about the vibe and the melody that by being animated it could actually cheer anyone up and the lyrics were really good though, a little sexual, but good.

When you turned the right way into the street of your new home, you came across much more than you expected to see on your moving day. There were, as it seemed, paparazzi. Apparently they were shooting a movie right in your street, and it had also many people with many cameras and trailers that probably were dressing rooms. Naturally, you knew that thousands of films were shot in California, that’s obvious. But you didn't expect one to be shooting exactly on your moving day and specifically in your street, let alone that the street would be this crowded since the world is experiencing a global pandemic, ironic. You observed some of the people walking down the street, or should you call it a set? You don't know, but there were many people and many cars, at least they were all wearing masks. It had many classic cars, probably in the 40s or 50s style. They were colorful; vivid colors, though. Colors like yellow, blue and lilac was really present. To resume, the whole street looked like a movie from the 50s and for sure that was the intention because you could notice some extras walking around the set dressed up as 50s people used to.

As you carefully drive through the street, you’d notice that from what seemed like a divine miracle, there was a vacant parking spot right in front of your house and you can’t help but smile when you see it. The first time you came here to see the house. You were with your family, and that was about four months ago. You just loved the house completely as it had such a different vibe from the place you used to live in New York, and honestly, just the thought of the house made your creativity activate as it had some really cool colored walls and you bought some colored mobile as well. Anyway, you stopped the car right in front of your house finishing the engine and grabbing your mask and putting it in your face as you'd use your hand to get rid of the seat belt and your other hand to open the car door and get out of the car.

After closing the driver's seat door, you go around the car walking to the trunk where you use the car key to open it. When you open it, you are faced with two cardboard boxes. One was full of books. Books of all kinds, books of period novels, books of suspense, books of investigation and etc. Books that piqued your curiosity and made you want to finish reading it as quickly as possible. The other box was already full of clothes, those last clothes that you would finally be taking home. Your mother has done the biggest job in the moving issue; she was the one who was bringing the furniture and your things while you finished packing the rest of your things to leave New York. You try your hardest not to pay attention to the set of recordings and the people who walked back and forth, at the same time that you tried hard not to make any noise, because if you accidentally disturbed a scene, you would feel extremely embarrassed and would probably not even show up at the gate until the end of filming, but that was not the case. You removed the two boxes from the trunk just before closing it completely. You chose, perhaps, to enter the clothes box first. You bent down taking the box in your arms and walked to the door of the house where you used the key you received from the real-estate agent to unlock it before entering. You immediately noticed that some sunbeams reflected on the living room floor due to the white linen curtain that covered the glass windows. You observed the contrast of the sofa in such a light tone with the lilac wall just behind it. You walked with the box in hand by the door extension to the room where you placed the box on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. Returning out of the house, you can see the figure of a tall man dressed in a brown suit crouched in front of the box of your books. He had brown hair and properly cut. It didn't look like he was messing with your books, but he was definitely looking at them and it seemed like he was trying to read the covers of it for some reason. You slowly got closer to the man's body without making too much noise while you analyzed him, you crossed your arms upon your chest as you noticed the book cover he was looking at: Love is a mixtape by Rob Sheffield.

— This one is amazing! — You said, surprising the man that stand up fastly with the book in his hands connecting his green gaze with yours. He was tall, really tall by the way. His suit seemed perfect, just as his hair. He had a black mask on as a protection but the 16 year old teenager inside of you could never mistake those eyes. It was Harry fricking Styles. You considerated being quiet as you, yourself were pretty surprised now, but then you took your gaze to the book in his hand and then back at his face — It's like comparing love to a popular song that we usually search to define love. Just to find out that love is like oxygen, or love is a kind of drug, or a battlefield for some... — You said referring to the book with a tender smile on your face that Harry couldn't essentially see, but talking about a book that you loved caused this on you. And as you talked you didn't notice that Harry had a smile on his face as well. Maybe it was because you completely ignored the fact that he is Harry Styles and he was messing up your books as he's on the set filming a movie, or maybe it was the fact that he loved this book just as much as you did. He'd use to say this is probably one of the books that if he had to read just one book to the rest of his life, he'd chose this one and he usually had so much to talk about this book and so much to put on an argument about it but now he was completely speechless. He was just tongue tied. He was tongue tied about your reflection of one of his favorite books and how it looked so identical to his own personal reflection. He was tongue tied for the number of great books that he always wanted to read that was on that box. He was tongue tied at the owner of those books and her beauty, her intelligence of her voice and her voice as well so he just chuckled. A nervous chuckle as he leaned his head to look at the floor for a second before looking at you and holding out the book in his hands to you that calmly took it from his hands.

— I know! It's one of my favorite books! — Harry'd ultimately manage to say it as he observed you admiring the cover and running your fingers through it as a truly book lover would do — It's very interesting the interpretation you have of it.

— Don't you agree? — You'd interrupt him rising your head to examine at his face. He seemed paralyzed by some way, little did you know that Harry was mesmerized. He enjoyed the informal way you were speaking with him, and it genuinely felt like you already knew it each for years.

— That's the intriguing part. We have the same interpretation! — He'd say serenely, and then running his hand through his hair as he frown a little because of the sun that just hit on his glowing eyes.

— Well...Maybe you're just trying to imitate me to impress me! — You'd joke, with a mocking expression on your face making Harry giggle at your words and your face. It was the sense of humor to him.

— Oh really? And what makes you think I'm trying to impress you? — Harry'd say back with the same mocking tone that you formerly used. He'd observe your face go from playful to thoughtful in just as you to come up with a response.

— I mean...you were the one looking through my stuff, mister! — You say raising your eyebrows as you utilized one of your hands to take some strands of hair out of your face.

— Right... — Harry said with a defeated voice before as he compressed his lips together and moved his suit away from his shirt a little as he places his hands on his waist — I'm sorry about it, though. There was this box hanging here and I guess I was just intrigued! — He said shyly making you start walking towards the box walking closely to him causing him to feel a hot warm from your body as you passed. You'd bend over to grab the box but was stopped by Harry taking the heavy box from your hands — Let me help you with this! — Harry said as he held the box on his arms.

— There's no need for that. It'll ruin your splendid suit! — You'd say gently to him as he was standing up in front of you carefully holding the loaded box. Legitimately, he looked hot. He properly looked like a 50s husband helping with the moving with this outfit — And if you piss off your costume designer because of me I'll die! — You'd complement receiving a loud laugh from Harry's lips that shook his head while looking at you.

— She’ll be fine! — Harry'd argue back, then get a sigh from you before nodding at him as a statement.

— My house is right there! — You'd say using your right hand to point at your house, watching Harry turn his back to you and start walking towards it. You followed him through the door that was already open. Harry looked at the house immediately. It had a good vibe, and he wouldn't deny it. The choice of colors was exceptional, but he also noticed it was not very tidy, which would probably indicate that you were moving today.

— Where do I leave it? — Harry asked, referring to the box as he went farther into the living room.

— You can just leave it on the floor — You serenely said crossing your arms together and watching as he left the box on the floor and turned around to face you, but then deflecting his gaze to the ceiling before staring at your face again.

— It's a beautiful house! — Harry said as he moved his gaze through the room. He observed everything. He likes to observe. He likes to notice things that maybe other people didn't — Just like the owner, if I might say — Harry said cheekily and charming hearing your giggle invade his ears as you started walking towards the box of books that he previously set on the floor.

— The owner says thank you — You said bending down and starting to take the books out of the box and place it on the coffee table beside you as Harry watched your movements. You shyly looked at him thinking for a second and them smiling under your mask — For both compliments! — You said getting your attention back to the books. It's not that you don't want to give him your attention. It's that you genuinely think that he's just being nice, and he's probably not even interested in anything that you say.

— So... I have to go back to the film now but maybe you can give me your number so we can talk about your interpretation of my favorite book — Harry said shyly. His words took you by surprise actually but you couldn't hold back the smirk you had under your mask as you stand up again turning to face his green eyes. You noticed that he had his phone on his hand, hoping and waiting that you'd give him your number even though both of you knew that the book excuse was nothing more than an excuse as he was truly interested in knowing you.

— Well, it depends... — you said slowly as you took a deep breath before actually saying anything — If you agree to read my favorite books too, I'll give you my number!

— I'd be honored! — Harry chuckled after letting a sigh out feeling relief that you asked for something so simple that he'd love to do if that would make you happy — What's your name? — Harry said as he unblocked his phone screen and started to save your phone number.

— Save it as Elizabeth Bennet in there! — You said fastly with a proud smile on your face as Harry giggled and did as you ask and then looked at your face as he put his phone back on his pocket.

— Only if you save my name as Mr. Darcy when I call you! — Harry said knowing that after this, Pride and Prejudice would definitely become one of his favorite books ever.

#hwrryscherry #harry and y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harey styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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groovyzombiellama · 3 years

Text

Don’t Leave Me

Title: Don’t Leave Me

Requested? No.

Plot: Your brother was the one to kidnap Cesar and his friends, and while you help them escape, you and Cesar fall in love, and you come to save his life when your brother discovers your hiding spot. Two endings.

Warnings: Mentions of getting shot, blood, death and funeral (one of the endings)

Word count: 2583

---***---

In the beginning it was tough to even get Cesar and his friends to eat right, let alone do anything else when they first arrived. So being in the position you are now, your feelings for the dark haired boy growing daily, you knew you had to do something. When your brother showed up to your house with the four of them in toe, you were already angry at him. You didn’t understand his need to hurt people, but he has crossed the line, kidnapping kids your own age, when he was much older than you. You honestly didn’t even care about his motives, but you immediately knew that you couldn’t let him hurt the four kids he kidnapped. So whenever Cesar argued with your brother while he was being grilled for the information your brother needed and you could see the eyes of your brother light up in rage, you were always ready to step in and protect Cesar from getting hurt in any way and the rest for that matter. At first you had no feelings towards him, it was only because you hated seeing people get hurt and especially seeing your brother, the guy you looked up to when you were younger doing the damage.

And since then you had developped some kind of relationship with all of them. You had began seeing Jamal, Ruby and Monse as friends, because they were quick to understand that you were trying to help them, but when it comes to Cesar, you were a bit unsure of what was going on. You knew that you had feelings for him, but at first you thought it was just a crush and that it would go away, because he was still reserved towards you and didn’t really warm up to you as much as the others, and even they were luke warm since you were related to the person who held them in captivity, so to say he was ice cold would be the most accurate description. But over time, especially when you had risked your own life helping them escape, they started opening up to you more, this time Cesar included. And that was when you realised that your feelings for Cesar were more than a crush and that the more you talked to him and the more you learned about him, the harder you were falling for him. You didn’t want to make an enemy out of Monse, since you knew that the two of them had a history, so you didn’t do a lot regarding your feelings, but it was clear that you had them, mostly to Monse.

She was actually the one who told you to go for it and that maybe you were the one for Cesar, since you were more in tune with the kind of life he lived, and no matter how much you tried to convince her that his way of life or yours or hers had nothing to do with feelings, she still pushed you into Cesar. And you were shocked to see him not pushing you back, and instead pulling you in. Like that one time you had to grab groceries as sneakily as you because all of you were getting hungry and the mask you were wearing had fallen slightly off your face, Cesar didn’t just tell you to pull it back or something, instead he was the one to reach over to pull it up for you, his fingers gently brushing over your lips, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Or when you all had to hide from a few of your brother’s goons who had come looking for you in the place you were hiding, and Cesar insisted you come hide with him in a already cramped closet.

It kinda gave you the impression that he liked you too, but what sealed the deal were two instances, firstly when you had to switch hiding places and you offered to just lead them there and then go your own way or go back to your brother, and just face the music for helping them escape, since you knew you could go to your father and your brother wouldn’t be able to hurt you, but Cesar was the most vocal one in saying that you were staying with them and that was final. And secondly when at the new hideout you had a limited amount of beds, so one of you was destined to sleep on the floor. You volunteered, because you felt like you owe it to them for letting you tag along, but Cesar was quick to tell you to sleep next to him. You looked over at Monse and she smiled at you, nodding slightly, signaling that she had already talked to Cesar and that she as fine with the two of you being together and that for her, Cesar was as much of a friend as you.

But that was just part of the event that sealed the deal between you and Cesar. What really put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the moment when you almost fell out of the bed in your sleep and woke up in a panic, ready to hit the ground, only to be grabbed by Cesar and pulled back, landing with your chest flush against his, your breaths mixing from the proximity of your faces. You looked up from his lips to his eyes, only to see him staring at your lips in turn, before leaning in and connecting them. The kiss was short and sweet at first, a chaste kiss shared between people who are yet to discover each other, but it was soon followed by a kiss more fast paced and hungry, just enough for the both of you to confirm to each other all that you felt through your mouths moving in sync and your breaths tangling. From then on you were his and he was yours, no doubt about it, and you felt butterflies roam your stomach when he even looked at you, let alone when he kissed you.

Neither one of you had any idea that your relationship was gonna be put to the highest test sooner rather than later when you brother and his goons somehow managed to find your hideout and a fight broke out. You fought to escape, while they fought to bring all five of you back into captivity. Your brother tried convincing you to come back to his side, but that had not been an option for a while now so he was trying in vain. And when even he realised that, that was when he really unleashed everything. There was punches thrown, and kicks from both sides, and people were thrown left and right, until you somehow ended up on the floor after one particularlly harsh kick from one of your brother’s goons and in your peripheral vision you noticed something shiny. Turning your head over to your brother, you noticed he had pulled out a gun and your eyes widened.

Pure shock overtook your body when you realised he was pointing it at Cesar who was fighting off his goons the strongest and he figured if he got rid of him grabbing the rest of you would be easier. Everything felt like it was in slow motion, but you managed to free yourself from the guy that had hurt you and was trying to hold you down and yelled out for Cesar, running to him. As soon as you reached him, you hugged him and heard a loud bang, followed by an enormous pain in your back and you collapsed to the floor, Cesar catching you in his arms. When your brother saw it was you who he shot, he froze, unable to understand how you were willing to fight with your life for people you met not too long ago. Suddenly they heart the sound of police sirens who just happened to be patroling the neighbourhood, they fled the scene, leaving you bleeding in Cesar’s arms. One of the officers rushed in and radioed for help when he saw you on the floor while the other started chasing your brother and his goons.

ENDING 1 (Gone But Not Forgotten)

“Come on Y/N, don’t leave me!“ You heard Cesar’s words, but you were unable to respond as you felt weak and your eyes were closing, and no matter how much he fought to get you to keep them open, you couldn’t anymore. Even the police officer was trying to get you to stay awake, pressing on your wound to stop the blood from flowing, but you somehow had a feeling your time is limited. With your last ounce of strength you told Cesar you loved him. “I love you“ was very important to you, and you felt like saying that in a relationship when it was truly serious, but since you felt like it was your last moments on earth, you knew that you had to say them to Cesar.

You felt one of his tears drop onto your skin and you wanted nothing more than to reach your hand up and wipe his tears, but you were getting weaker by the minute. You reached out your hand as much as possible, looking for Monse’s and when she grabbed your hand, you told her to take care of herself and of all of her friends, especially Cesar. “Turns out we weren’t actually meant to be as we thought.“ You say, your throat dry, causing you to cough, a bit of blood coming out of your mouth, and you smiled hearing Cesar. “Don’t say these things! You’re gonna be okay! I love you too, I love you, just don’t leave me!“ After uttering out one last “I love you“ to Cesar, you closed your eyes for the last time, your body going limp, and no matter how much he screamed, and he screamed for you so loudly that Monse, Jamal and Ruby felt like those screams were gonna haunt them for the rest of their lives, you were gone. Cesar cried even louder, placing his forehead against yours, begging you to wake up, but deep down he knew you were gone and he knew that he was gonna need a LOT of time to get over you and how you made him feel. “Sweet dreams angel, I love you.“ Were his last words to you before you were burried. He would often visit your grave, whenever he missed you, in every girl he saw you, even when he moved on, you were still tattooed in his heart.

ENDING 2 (The Survivor)

“Come on Y/N, don’t leave me!“ Cesar’s words echoed in your head, giving you more will to keep on fighting. You felt way too weak, but something in your mind was telling you that you had to fight. The police officer pressing down on your wound informed you that the ambulance was gonna be here soon and all you had to do was hold on a little longer. All four of your newfound friends were givin you words of encouragement, being able to see how strong you are from all of the things the five of your went through in this time you were together. It made you smile, even if it was weak and followed by you coughing out blood, it gave a sliver of hope to your friends and your boyfriend that you would be able to get through this. Your eyes felt heavy and for a moment you felt like it was the last thing you were ever gonna say, so you felt like you had to let him know. “Cesar, I l-love y-you.“ You wanted to say more, like how you know that those words are reserved for serious relationships for you and not something to be taken lightly or how it was okay if he didn’t feel the same, or how it might be too soon to say that, but you couldn’t. Your throat closed and you caughed again.

Cesar begged you not to talk and to keep your energy for fighting to stay alive, and said he loved you too, so you had to fight, because he wanted to show you how much he loved you, in every meaning of that word. If you weren’t bleeding out on the floor you would have hugged him so tight right now and showered him with kisses. Soon the ambulance was there and it was just in time too, as you were slowly starting to close your eyes. You were all taken to the hospital and they were all treated for their wounds as you were rushed to the operation room. Everyone was anxious, hoping to get good news that you were gonna be okay. Cesar was blaming himself for not turning the two of you around and taking the bullet himself, but he was too late to realise what was going on, and didn’t have enough time to react. Monse, Jamal and Ruby were doing their best to calm him down, but all three were starting to get dizzy watching him pace back and forth in their hospital room, waiting to hear how you were.

After what seemed like forever the doctor walked into their room and started scolding Cesar for not resting, but he quickly brushed him off and asked for you. A sigh of relief washed over the entire room as they heard that even though you had lost a lot of blood, you were gonna be fine and recover. Cesar asked if he could see you, or stay in your hospital room with you and the doctor granted that to him. Even when the other’s left to go home to their families, Cesar stayed with you. You had made him feel so much in such a short amount of time, more than even Monse. He had never felt the way he feels about you and couldn’t wait to say he loves you to you again, when you are fully back to health and looking at him with your beautiful smile and breathtaking eyes. When you woke up finally, he peppered your face with gentle kisses, making you giggle, that turned into a hissing sound, as you felt your wound hurting from the sudden movement, prompting Cesar to stop and apologise multiple times, despite you saying it was fine.

He was there for you throughout your recovery, making sure you know that he was serious about you, and when you had finally been released from the hospital, he took you to his house and you had officially moved in with him, since you had nowhere else to go after what happened with your brother who was your main caretaker. But you were accepted into the Diaz family and you were truly thankful. “Oh by the way, I love you angel. I love you a lot.“ Cesar said one night as you were getting ready to go to bed, making you blush, both at him saying those words to you and at the nickname he gave you. “I love you too....amor.“ The smile Cesar beamed at you was the biggest you had seen on him since you met him. He surged forward, feeling like he was on cloud nine after finally hearing those words properly from you and kissed you with so much emotion, you felt blissful. He was yours and you were his, sure you met under wild circumstances, but at least you were here to stay.

---***---

Gah I made the second ending so much longer than the first, but since she lives in that one, there was more to happen after she wakes up, so it got longer, but I hope you guys still like it and don’t mind <3

I haven’t seen On My Block fully yet, so I’m not sure if Cesar and Monse get back together before they get kidnapped, but someone spoiled that they get kidnapped to me so I had this idea one night while I was thinking about it. I’ve always wanted to write a fic with alternate endings so people could choose weather they like the sad ending or the happy one. Hope you enjoy this, I’m off to bed. my back and neck are killing me and tomorrow I’m going back to my inbox for new requests to do :) that’s all for now folks <3

#cesar diaz #cesar diaz imagine #cesar diaz imagines #cezar diaz x reader #on my block #on my block imagine

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extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

innocence - 28

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: angst

A/N: its angst season again!!

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky looked around like a crazed maniac, looking for anyone, just anyone who could be responsible for the letter he was holding in his hands. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins just like they used to when they held him hostage in the Russian base. Those words were tattooed in his retina, as it dawned on him he had once again to keep her safe. His ears started ringing like they always did when they used to trigger him, the ring itself replacing any other environment sound, becoming so loud it fully overcame over his senses, rendering him particularly useless. Not that he was of use lately.

- Bucky? - Y/N’s sister, Claire, called out to him. Almost mechanically, he stuffed the letter in his back pocket. - Are you okay? You look a bit shocked. Any naughty Christmas post cards?

- Just a bit ... cold.

- Yeah, Y/N said you were not very comfortable with it. Sorry about that, I was just trying to keep you away from Aunt Petunia. She’s too much.

- Thanks, Claire. Hm ... do you have any landline? I need to make a call to the US and my plan is running out.

- Yeah, no worries. There’s one in the hall by Y/N’s bedroom. - she gave him a warm smile which was reminiscent of Y/N yet did little to nothing to calm him down. He handed her the rest of the mail before climbing up the stairs to the same hall which had doors on each side. Yet, despite it looking like a maze all he cared about was that small telephone on the table.

Her picked the phone, leaning it against his ear as the rolled the dial to Steve’s number, the letter firmly mashed in his fist as he wanted nothing more than to burn it in the big fire place but he couldn’t. All he could think of was whoever had broken into Y/N’s flat back had followed them to London and once again he had been incapable of protecting her. He had let whoever was sending her those nasty messages, get to her in one of her most safe places. The other line rang like the passage of long times, until he heard the voice which had become synonymous with freedom and America together.

- Steve Rogers.

- Steve, they did it it again. - he snapped before he could even tell who it was on the phone. Yet, if his oldest friend couldn’t figure out his voice after so many years then maybe he needed new friends.

- Buck?

- Someone left a letter on her mail box calling her a whore again. You and Natasha were on it trying to figure out who did it in New York. - he continued on like an out of control mess.

- Buck, calm down. Was the handwriting similar? Maybe it’s a prank.

- There’s no handwriting just magazine cut outs and it’s not a prank.

Y/N stepped out of the car, walking over to the luggage holder to help her father take the shopping bags out while her mother walked up to the door to unlock it before they could climb up the stairs. Her father opened the truck of the small red car which they had had since she was a baby. She still remembered her father picking her up from ballet practice, the red colour bright through the cloudy skies. It always felt so safe to enter through those doors, almost if there was no harm whenever she was inside the old metal vehicle. Things were so simple back then and evil was so hardly defined and bordered away from her. She had had a good childhood, good parents, good family so why was she so scared whenever she was in New York? Why was she so intrinsically insecure and meek?

- So, beanie, you and James. Does he treat you well? - he asked as he handed her some bags and christmas boxes.

- He’s just perfect, dad.

- Then what is it?

- What do you mean? - she looked over her shoulder.

- Well, you’re my daughter, you’ve been my daughter for over 5 years now and I like to think I know you better than you think. What’s wrong, Y/N?

- I’m just homesick, dad. - she faked a smile, pushing her hat further down her head, trying to fiddle with something else. - New York is different from here and well, stardom is different from here. It has nothing to do with Bucky.

- He makes you happy?

- He does.

- Then I’m happy for you, beanie. - her father kissed the top of her head, carrying half the shopping bags and gifts onto the home while Y/N stood back looking at the neighbourhood she’d grown up in. It wasn’t perfect, no place in the world is perfect but it had a much more emotional connection to her than her place in SoHo. Of course, maybe it was just her own rose coloured glasses of being away from such a structured, planned 3 year ahead career.

She smiled softly at the houses in exposed brick shades and the coloured blue and red doors with big gold number. Rows and rows of houses which seemed never ending when she was younger yet now seemed so quickly fading from view. Nothing is everlasting and she remembered so well thinking everything was but maybe it was for the best. Good things end to give way to better ones and bad things end become they no longer suit you.

Y/N looked over her shoulder one last time before entering the house. She put the bags near the other ones neatly stacked by the staircase before pulling her coat and jacket off. The house was always filled with noise, it was never quiet. Always abundant with laughter or discussions about the silly topics. This time, they were discussing some weird plot on the television. However, Bucky was nowhere to be seen.

- Did you not invite Bucky? - she crossed her arms, giving her siblings the dirtiest look she could muster. - Guys, I asked you to include him.

- We did but your boyfriend has been on an international call for the last hour. It’s gonna add up. - Colin retorted.

- I’m gonna go check on him. - she reminded herself to tell Colin off for that backhanded comment but she was much more preoccupied with Bucky. Sure, he did enjoy his loneliness but Y/N didn’t want him to feel alienated. She did not want him to feel lonely or like a stranger in her home. Climbing up the stairwell, she noticed him at the end of the hall, old telephone she used to toy around with when she was a kid pretending to call her family yet, unlike her past childhood self, Bucky had the phone firmly pressed against his ears, lips tight, one hand holding himself against the table.

She noticed his indisposition, his muscles so tight she wondered how come he hadn’t had a cramp and like any empath she approached him with her characteristic sunny attitude, wrapping her arms around his waist, putting herself on her tip toes to kiss him. Bucky, however, moved his head to the side, mumbling something over on the phone in Russian, switching languages as if he did not want her to hear his conversation. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, her overthinking nature picking at her brain as she leaned her head against his shoulder. Bucky turned around slightly to kiss her on top of her head like one does to a child or a friend.

- I’m on a call now, princess. - he held her arm up to wrap it from his waist.

- Okay. I’ll just go ... go have a shower.

She delayed her exit, almost waiting for him to kiss her like he always did whenever she left. However, Bucky quickly returned to his call, in Russian, and she got the message loud and clear. She tried not to think much about it, after all Bucky was still related to the Avengers and despite being his girlfriend, she was not expect to be into that sort of information. She tried to convince herself of that fact as she stepped onto the cold porcelain of her shower floor. The water fell from her head onto her shoulder as she scrubbed the dirt off her body, constantly telling her inner anxiety, Bucky was merely busy. If she were busy she wouldn’t have liked her partner being clingy. He was busy.

She turned off the shower, wrapping herself in the fluffy bathrobe she probably had had since she was 18, hair still damp as she slide her feet into fluffy slippers and walked into her bedroom. Bucky was sat in her bed, laptop on his lap as he typed the keyboard so harshly one would think he’d break the keys. She smiled to herself as she took the side near him, head laying on top his cozy black jumper, probably dampening the fabric but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t even seen to mind her presence, merely ignoring it. She looked up at him, moving to kiss his jaw with an innocence type of request which was anything but innocent.

- Buck. - she said in a sing song type of voice, almost like a mermaid calling out for a sailor. - Why don’t we finish what we started in the airplane?

- Not today, princess. - he kissed the top of her head once again. - I’m not in the mood for it.

- Oh ... hum ... okay. - she almost retracted back into her shell at those words. Had she done something this morning? Something to upset him? Maybe he didn’t enjoy her leaving him alone with her family. - Do you wanna go out for dinner?

- I don’t think it’s wise, princess. They might ... pap us or someth’ng.

Did he not want to be papped with her? Maybe he was still upset over the pap photos she had willingly given away. She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know. Instead, she decided to turn around in the bed, still naked under her bathroom and stare at the wall until she felt sleep weigh on her eyelids. Bucky, on the other side, had his wild eyes glued to the screen, watching the security tape of her apartment over and over again. It had been cut, he knew it had from the time changing sharply, however, he couldn’t see anything which would be of any aid. All he knew was that not only had he failed his job as an Avenger, he failed his job as her bodyguard and failed to protect her like any boyfriend would do. Would it be in a club he could’ve just punched the daylights out of whoever dared to call her that but right now he couldn’t. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Bucky closed the laptop, putting it on the floor as he looked through his mind about who could want to hurt her, who cold do anything to want her to suffer. He could no figure it out and all he wanted was to figure it out. He leaned against the bars of her bedpost, looking over to his side to see her sleeping on her side, hand under her face and hair drying in front of his face. He carefully pushed the hair away from her face, tucking her into her large duvet before kissing her cheekbone. He couldn’t bring it upon himself to say anything, to tell her the letter came in. Bucky still remembered how she had reacted last time and he did not want it to happen again, he did not want her to feel unsafe in her own home. Instead, he let himself fast asleep next to her.

The morning woke Y/N up, the strange brightness of a sunny winter day hurting her eyes. She groaned, raising her torso from the bed, eyes blurry as she opened them. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes she extended her arm to notice Bucky’s spot was empty. She furrowed her brows, jumping off bed and walking outside and down the stairs onto the living room where most of her siblings and their partners were.

- Wow, Y/N. Clothes under the bathrobe, much? - Eloise teased.

- Where’s Bucky? - she ignored her sister.

- He went out. - Claire added, handing her a cup of tea. - Said he had to grab some stuff.

- Oh ... okay. He didn’t say anything.

- He probably didn’t want to wake you up. - Claire patted her shoulder, kind smile on her lips.

- Or maybe he’s cheating on you. - Colin added, only to be slapped over the head by Eloise. - Hey, what was that for? I was joking.

- He’s not cheating on you. - Claire reassured her. - Colin is just being an ass.

- What? I was joking!

- Not with Y/N, you idiot. - Eloise muttered under her breathe. - Maybe you should go put your clothes on, Y/N. Bucky is probably just Christmas gift shopping.

- Or maybe he got lost? He is like 200 years old. Did you give him a pager? He might be lost in Piccadilly Circus or maybe he can’t get out the underground.

- Fuck off, Colin. - Y/N snapped at him before returning up to her bedroom.

He knew her brother was just trying to get under her skin. Bucky was not cheating on her, when did he even have time to find someone in London to cheat her with? Maybe he had some contacts in London from when he used to come to missions with the Avengers. Maybe he had someone in London for him. No. No, Bucky did not. Bucky wouldn’t cheat on her, Bucky liked her but he was acting out of style to him. She sat on her bed, hand in the middle of her legs as she tried to stop herself from overthinking things that were absolutely ridiculous. Since she was no good at doing such thing, she called the only person who normally could push her back to reality.

- Chuck? I have a problem.

- Jesus, Y/N. Have you forgotten time zones? - Chuck groaned on the other side of the line. - You better be dying.

- Bucky is acting weird.

- Bucky always acts weird. What’s your point?

- I don’t know, Chuck. It feels weird. I even tried ... initiating IT and he said no. Do you think he’s not attracted to me anymore? He didn’t even want to kiss me

- Maybe he was not in the mood, Y/N. Also, why are you so freaked out about saying sex? Are you sexually repressed? Did you try to initiate some kinky sex with Bucky and maybe his old man penis wasn’t okay with it?

- Can we not discuss my boyfriend’s penis, please?

- What? He’s old, maybe it hasn’t been getting up. Did you ask him? Maybe he forgot to pack Viagra and he’s ashamed.

- Chuck. It is not that.

- I don’t know, Y/N. Maybe spice it up. Dress up like Princess Leia in Empire Strikes Back. Every man is into it.

- Bucky hasn’t seen Star Wars.

- I don’t know what was sexually appealing in the 40s, Y/N. Don’t you have that lingerie set they made you wear for Rocky Horror? Use that. Maybe he really just wasn’t in the mood.

- Okay ... yeah. Uhm, maybe it will work.

- Great. Now, I need to sleep because it is too late and there’s a girl in my bed and I don’t want her to think I have you on the side.

- Oh, is she a nice girl?

- Y/N ever since you lost your virginity you get very boring when you don’t get a dick appointment. Go on and do it with Bucky and we’ll talk later.

- Okay, thank you.

- Bye, bye.

Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. She never really saw herself a sexual being or a sexual girl at all. After all, she was the one who got told by three guys at her university freshers party she had the sexual charisma of a toaster. Now the metaphor did not make any sense but all she knew was that it probably did not make any sense. It wasn’t that she wasn’t comfortable with her own sexuality, she just didn’t think about it outside of work. Maybe Bucky was used to girls who put a bit more effort and wasn’t very attracted to her very old bathrobe and her Marks and Spencers cotton underwear. She shrugged it off, opening her wardrobe to skim through some of the costumes she had worn until she found the white lacy set. It was better than her regular cotton underwear. She put her robe back on looking at herself in the mirror as she gave herself a pep talk. He’s not cheating on her. She knows he would never do that.

She sat down in her bed, going over some scripts sent over by the agency until midday when Bucky came into the bedroom, on the phone with someone else, still speaking Russian. She waited for him to finish his call before she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

- Sorry for not telling you, Y/N. I had to make some calls with the team.

- It’s okay. - she smiled at him. - I was just thinking maybe ... maybe we could have some us time. My parents went to do the groceries and my siblings won’t bother us, besides I have something I want to show you.

- Sorry, not in the mood. I need to call Steve. - he took his jacket off, putting it on the edge of her bed. - It’s urgent, princess.

- Oh, okay.

- Can I use the landline? Pretty sure I still haven’t figured out how to make international calls.

- Yeah. - he kissed the top of her head once more.

She sat on her bed defeated. Her mind going through everything she could’ve possibly done wrong the morning she left with her parents. Maybe he really wasn’t in the mood, however he did seem pretty eager that morning. She sighed. Damned Colin and his stupid backside comment. She sighed, rolling in her bed, the movement making his jacket fall to the ground. Great Y/N, now you’re wrinkling his clothes. She got up from her bed to grab the jacket for a letter to fall on the ground. She looked to the side, leaning down to pick the letter only to drop it once she saw the writing. You cannot hide, whore. She grabbed it from the ground before storming out to the hall, pulling the cable out the wall, effectively stopping Bucky’s call.

- When were you gonna tell me?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @bbabysbaby @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverratedbutgreat @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites @bluevxnus @that-girl-named-alex @captnrogers @nsfwsebbie @sarge-barnes-sir

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moonlit-mizukage · 3 years

Text

Chapter Fifteen: 1am Joyride

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

TW: Swearing, mentions of violence, implied past abuse, parents not loving their children, abandonment, foster care, jail, death

AN: THIS CHAP IS A BACK STORY SO IF YOU ARE UNCOMFY I WILL POST A SMALL LINE FROM THEN END OF THISON THE NEXT ONE AS WELL!!! Sorry as well for not updating lots. Yeah girl has been dissociating so much and losing days. I blinked and now its friday at almost 3am. My even closes as well on the 21st so if you want to participate please check out this Prompt list!!

Word Count: 1.2K

________________________________________________________________

Y/N POV

I heard the rev of Tendou’s motorbike outside my window. I grabbed my jacket and Climbed out my open window. I took the lightest steps I could around and passed Mei’s window. I grabbed the tree and started to climb down. I walked up to Tendou.

“You look hot when you are angry babe.”

“Gross, let’s just get out of here.” I grabbed the helmet from his hands as I climbed on the back.

We rode down the rural neighbourhoods of the city. I never felt more relaxed than I did in that moment, my arms wrapped around him, the wind blowing on my body as we rode off. I wanted this moment to last. We soon stopped as Tendou reached for his helmet.

“This is my thinking spot. It’s usually quiet this time of night.” I took my helmet off and stepped off the bike.

“I didn’t expect you to be of all people to need a thinking spot. Though you just Monster listed them.”

“Unfortunately there's things the Monsters can’t always help with.” The atmosphere around him seemed to change to somewhat of a depressing vibe.

“I really liked being on the bike. I didn’t even notice we ended up going up a hill to this lookout point.”

“I knew you’d be distracted once you got to touch me.” He said with a wink as he pulled me into his arms. Our lips almost touched as he whispered. “Everytime I see you, you get more beautiful.”

“Gross.” I whispered back as we both went in for a kiss..

Tendou’s phone startled us as he pulled away.

“What is it?” He asked as he answered the phone. A few minutes of silence passed.

“No, I am at the lookout point. Can’t he just lie like he always does?” A deep sigh came from him as he heard the response.

“Just give him my special stash and tell him to give it to her only if she won't come back. Shes a fucking bitch anyways. No one is at a loss by this. What’s a few couple hundred to get a forever problem solved?” Tendou laughed at whoever was on the other side of the phone and hung up.

“Sorry Y/n. Monster shit never stops when Teru”s one time hook ups won’t stop coming back.”

“I don’t understand why you covered his ass. He’s going to act like a pig. He should deal with it on his own.” I slapped a hand over my mouth “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“I know you aren’t the only one who sees it that way but Teru and Mad have been here for me always. We used to be little brats back in our elementary days too. Teru was actually a Quiet little devil at first. I do admit we definitely have opposite opinions on girls' purpose. He did watch his mom go through boys every other day some new guy railing her in the kitchen when he got home from school. His mom told him if the sex isn’t an 10 then they are not worth it”

“How would he even know what a 10 is?’’

“I think he just does it to feel some kind of connection to a girl. In hope’s to find ‘The one’, he just wants to be loved and accepted by someone. He knows he's got us but he’s never felt loved by his mom, doesn’t even know who his dad is.”

“I had no idea, I feel terrible now” I said back to him. He pulled me closer to him again as he rested on the rail.

“He’s honestly such a good guy. All four of them are. Mad gets in a lot of fights because that's all he knew his entire childhood from his 3 older brothers used to fight him. His dad was about the same in that sense too. The reason he always punches instead of thinks before he acts is that is what he's been taught. He moved out of his house at 16 after we got some income and met the other two. Started to raise some hell in our school you know?”

“It makes sense why he always tries to fight everyone then.”I said back.

“Hanamaki though is a rich kid whose parents would rather pretend he doesn’t exist. He lived with his grandma on the other side of Tokyo till she passed away in the last year of middle school. Now they buy him whatever he wants while they live who knows where in the world. Him and Matsukawa have been friends since elementary though, Matsun even followed him to Highschool cause he got expelled the last day of school for setting a classroom on fire smoking too close to some curtains. Matsukawa though also didn’t have a good upbringing. His mom left him at 2 years old outside a random house with a note saying she never wanted him. It took 4 years for him to find his father, by then the kid already had some damage because of the system. His dad worked too much to see it for himself though. That just made his choice to move in with Maki much easier for him. That's how we all kinda met though, our broken homes.” Tendou finished, as he turned away and looked out at the view.

“What’s your story Satori?” I asked him.

“My father’s in jail, my mother is dead.”

“Holy shit, I am so sorry Satori.”

“I spent most of my childhood jumping from foster home to foster home. I was a demon spawn though. Always making sure they would move me around. Getting my nickname Guess Monster cause no one knew what I would do next. I live with my grandma now.” He said.

“I am sorry I always called you the second biggest asshole on earth. I had no idea.” He just laughed knowing I meant Oikawa as number one.

“And how about you y/n? What’s your story?”

“Um, my mom left us for a guy in Paris when I was young. I was basically raising Mei as my child, with my father being a doctor he's usually never home. Well till I started dipping on her for Oikawa. Now she hates my guts and my father spoils her so much cause he feels bad about missing out so much.”

“Wait Oikawa? I thought you always hated him” He said. I began to explain to him the same story I had told Mei earlier the night. “I always knew he was a piece of shit.”

“If only Mei did. That’s why we fought too.” Tendou pulled me in closer again. He smiled at me as he gave his signature smile.

“It’s nice to have someone to trust outside of my circle again.” He pulled me into a passionate kiss….

The night continued for a bit longer as he brought me back home once again. I got off his bike and looked down at him as he took his helmet off and stood up.

“Satori.”

“Yes Y/n?”

“You were right, I did fall for you.” With that I placed a passionate kiss on his lips again. I pulled away and turned around to begin to climb back into my house...

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An: My mobile tumblr wont let my fix things so links on all “next” buttons will be fixed when it stops being this T^T

Taglist: @belongtothewcrld @elianetsantana @its-the-aerieljeane @london-quynh @vhskenma @denkithunder @swagdaddycam @ems1des @tendouispretty @senpaisbadass @elephantloser @smolbbgorl @mikeys-thighs @kuroolilchibichan @softesyoongi @ouijaeater15 @xxsilverwingxx @prettyinblack231 @kookie-doughs @mikesdeath @bruh-kill-me @skeet-skeet-double-fckn-yeet @d0llpie @0-hysteria-0 @katsumi-sumi @rintarawr @sirachano0dles @satan-ruler-of-hells @himboos @maer-333 @pastel-prynce

#tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou smau #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu smau

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sundaysundaes · 3 years

Text

A Shatter in The Dark

Mark Lee X Lee Donghyuck/Haechan, ft. Taeyong | NC-17 | Smut, Fluff, Action, Angst | Zombie Apocalypse AU

Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world's population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. And yet, Mark Lee's number one problem is trying to stop himself from staring too long at the way Haechan's jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Warnings: Smut, Major Character Death, Slight Horror and Violence

Also available to read on AO3 here.

It’s strange, Mark thinks, for him to not be able to remember how it all started. Perhaps it’s a way for his mind to release himself from all the traumatic events he has gone through. Perhaps he’s just too scared to even begin to remember the details. Or perhaps he’s just no longer human—not like the way he used to.

“Just keep going,” he mutters to himself—a habit that begins to grow more with each day passing by. It doesn’t necessarily comfort him but it keeps him sane. He needs to hear a human’s voice in his ears, even if that comes from his own mouth.

He has stopped counting days, just like how he’s stopped taking three meals a day. Both for the same reason: to survive longer. His backpack feels heavy on his back and his untrimmed bangs stick uncomfortably to his temple, but he drags his feet along the pavement that’s scorching from the heat of the sun. His throat blazes just as hot, his lips chapped and he needs something to eat.

Back when he was fourteen and his imaginations ran wild from reading too many Stephen King’s horror novels before his bedtime, Mark once imagined how would his town look in a post-apocalyptic universe. He’d visualized the sky with no clouds and thunderbolts striking endlessly. He’d imagined the cracks on the roads with long, tall wild grass growing out of them, as they seek for the sunlight that is now shining bloody red. The air would be toxic, he’d figured, killing everyone who breathes it in without a filter mask and the seas would be dry, making water everyone’s priority and causing civil wars just to get it.

Now that he’s living in a post-apocalyptic world, he notices that it’s nothing like he’d fantasized.

The city of Seoul looks fairly the same, albeit slightly abandoned. Maybe it’s because it’s only been a few months since the outbreak, but the neighbourhood still seems familiar. The plants are unkempt, the bags of dust on the floors are thick in layers, and the pavements are covered with dry leaves. But if Mark closes his eyes for a few seconds, the wind still feels nice on his cheeks, the air still smells like how it does during the end of summer, and he can imagine kids running around down the street. He doesn’t though, because no one around him is alive. He hasn’t met anyone for God knows how long and it’s making him insane.

It’s a fucking ghost town and Mark wishes he could just disappear like everybody else. A few months ago, it was stated that the virus had killed 48% of the world's population. The outbreak had started in Korea as well but his government was trying their best to isolate the island. That was the last news he saw on TV before his mother took the remote control with a quivering hand and turned it off. She turned to her son, eyes trembling in fear, and said, “Let’s pray together. Our Lord will protect us if we pray.”

But Lord’s protection only lasted for two days before his usually calm neighbourhood began to turn into an uproar. The virus had infected one of them and it traveled fast.

Those who had weak bodies, Mark noticed, died within seconds and he witnessed with his own eyes how his father, who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just a few weeks before, began to bleed from his mouth, nose and ears. It happened so fast, as if something invisible was choking the life out of him and he exploded from the inside. He could remember how his father was reaching out to him, his son’s name on his tongue and Mark stood there in horror, watching his loved one silently screaming in pain with bloody tears running down his eyes before he fell down his chair, smashing his face against the cold floor and gushing out more blood that seemed darker than the night.

Mark didn’t scream even though his mind was so loud; it felt like his brain was going to burst. He thought the virus was infecting him too and it probably was, but as he kept his eyes shut tightly, heart slamming against his ribcage as he counted to ten, he noticed he was fine. He counted again to one minute, then two, then five and he was still the same.

He was… immune. Or at least so he thought.

That was when he began to cry. And when he thought he would stop crying, he cried even harder with his hand pressed against his chest and his mouth desperately gasping for air. He glanced at the way his father’s lifeless body began to rot as if his corpse had been there for days and felt his stomach hurl.

Mark scrambled to his feet, ran upstairs to reach the room at the end of the corridor, praying frantically for his mother to be alive. And when he found her body lying on the bed, he wasn’t sure whether she was. Her body was still warm, her chest was still heaving up and down with the slow breaths she was taking, but no matter how much he tried to shake her awake, she wouldn’t budge. No matter how much he screamed her name, she wouldn’t reply. And no matter how much he cried, she wouldn’t hug him to soothe down his pain.

Hours passed by with Mark sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at his mother with lifeless eyes, and he realized that his surrounding was quiet. Eerily so. Even the dogs no longer barked. He took a look out of the window and shuddered at the sight. Most of the people he knew from when he was still a child, were lying on the streets with bloody faces, mirroring the way his father was on his kitchen’s floor. With shivering hands, he tried to call the police with his cellphone but he couldn’t get connected. The signal was down, both the tv and his radio no longer worked and it just really hit him that the world was ending.

It took him another hour to process everything, but only a minute for him to finally get up to his feet and walk downstairs. He had a shovel in his hand, and dried tears lining his cheeks.

He began to dig.

***

“Sorry for barging in,” Mark calls, but not hoping for an answer, after he kicked the front door open. The wooden floor creaks under his step, and it rings loudly in this empty neighbourhood that he’s not familiar with. But at this point, anywhere looks the same.

He knows he’s not the only person living in the world. If he’s immune to the virus, then there must be someone else—maybe even a colony—who survive as well. He just needs to find them. He always hopes that he gets to meet someone as he wanders from one house to another, but months have passed and he hasn’t seen a single soul except those who lurk in the night. Those with cloudy white eyes and rotten skin, snarling at the thought of consuming human’s flesh. Those he sees a lot, and he’s been trying his best to avoid them at all cost.

These creatures that wander after the sunsets are something that fourteen-year-old Mark would most likely call zombies. They used to be the monsters of his worst nightmares but after witnessing them with his own eyes, even standing up against one of them once in the battle of his life, Mark noticed that they were not as terrible as he’d guessed. Though they look human, they no longer have the sense of smell as they used to and they simply move based on instincts, triggered by the movements of their prey. But they’re freakishly strong and fast, and even though Mark’s pretty capable of handling his own fight during high school, these creatures can easily break his arm and leg at the same time before Mark can even begin. So he survives by keeping a safe distance, shooting them in the heads or right in their hearts—because those two are their only weaknesses—before they even notice him being there and just does his best to hide during night time.

Mark breathes in and curls his fingers tightly around his handgun. It’s really a blessing, he supposes, that he managed to find a handgun with enough amount of bullets in the drawer of his neighbour’s house. And he really does thank the Lord for giving him the chance to learn how to hunt birds back when he was young with his father during summer. He may lack physical strength, but he’s fast on his feet and good with his eyes. Combined with luck, it’s the very reason he’s survived all these months by himself.

Mark avoids dark places where the sunlight can’t reach at all cost, so he usually doesn’t barge into a house with wooden boards covering its windows and doors like this but he’s starving and this was the closest place available that he could get on foot. Maybe someone used to live here, hiding from them by making a temporary fortress of their own house.

He tries calling again, hoping that someone is still alive but he huffs in disappointment when nobody answers. “Better luck next time, Mark.”

He carefully looks around, making sure he’s safe and alone in the house as he steps toward the kitchen. When he’s certain that everything is under control, he places his gun on the kitchen’s counter and begins to check the drawers, taking every canned food and water bottle he can find into his backpack. He’s so happy to finally find something he’s been dying to drink—a canned watermelon juice—when an arm suddenly circles around his neck and a tip of a spear point knife pressed against his throat.

“Don’t move.”

It takes a few seconds for Mark’s brain to process that it’s a human voice and it’s already sending a relieved, almost joyful feeling all over his body before it finally sinks that this human is now about to slice his throat open with his knife.

“Don’t you think it’s impolite to barge into someone’s house and steal their food?” The human—a man with a voice sounding young enough to be around his age or perhaps younger—asks with a poisonous tone laced on his tongue. “Step away from the counter.”

But despite his snarky tone, Mark can tell he’s nervous from the way he breathes rather raggedly behind him. Mark has learned some basic hand-to-hand combat techniques during his scouting days and he figures he knows how to struggle himself free. He’s just lacking some practices, that’s all.

Well, there’s always a first for everything.

Elbowing the other man hard on the stomach, Mark dips his head down, freeing himself from the other man’s hold and lurches forward to snatch back his gun. Mark already has his gun in his hand but the man steps faster before he can point it to his face. He knees Mark on his stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs and shoves him down to the floor, face first. He punches the gun out of his hand, turns Mark’s body around and straddles him by the waist. Grabbing him by the collar of his black shirt, he lifts Mark’s head high enough in the air so they’re face-to-face.

“Do you want to die, you little shit?!” He screams, knife pressing hard against Mark’s throat that it begins to draw blood. Mark winces from the pain but he takes a moment to see the other man’s face.

He’s young, probably is younger than he is, with a mop of messy ash grey with new brown strands growing at the roots. He has his bangs falling over his big, round chocolate dark eyes. His skin is sun-kissed, and though he sprouts expletives from his mouth, his voice is thin and a bit high-pitched. His features are a bit soft compared to his attitude, and it’s the way he stares at him that stops Mark from moving.

This young man looks terrified beyond belief.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and he genuinely does feel so. “I wasn’t aware that someone was in the house.”

“I think I made that clear before when I told you to not fucking move.”

“You’re right. I guess my instincts just kicked in. Wouldn’t you have done the same thing, though?”

He opens his mouth to retort but loses his words, and Mark smiles a little at him, earning a low growl and another shout from the other man. “Don’t you get all smart with me. Come here!”

Mark is being dragged down across the room by the back of his shirt, until the man finds himself a rope and ties Mark’s hands together behind his back. He pushes Mark down to the floor, tucks his knife safely to the back of his jeans and stares down at him with cautious eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Mark Lee.”

“You’re weak and skinny as fuck. How are you still alive?”

“I don’t know. Lucky, I guess?”

“Lucky—“ He seems shocked at the nonchalant shrug Mark is showing him. “You’ve never met any of them, have you?”

“You mean other people?”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course Mark knows what he’s referring to. He just doesn’t want to talk about it. “I don’t go out at night,” he says, slightly shivering at the thought of doing so.

“No shit, Sherlock,” He mocks, squatting in front of him so they’re eye-to-eye. “Now if I haven’t made it clear before, this house is too small for both of us. I suggest you leave.”

That’s a generous offer considering Mark did barge in without permission to steal his things, but it’s been so long for Mark to finally see another human—one that does not bleed from their face or tries to eat him alive inch by inch—so he stays still and just gazes at him.

“What are you looking at, you little shit?”

“Are you alone?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you want to come together with me?” Mark asks, and before the other man looks disgusted with his generous offer, he adds, “Judging by the food you have left, you can only stay here for three days at most.”

“Longer than if I come with you, I’m sure.”

“Fair enough,” Mark chuckles and he’s surprised by his own voice. “But you never know, though. We’re stronger in numbers.”

“We’ll be targeted more in numbers.”

“I know how to hide,” Mark assures, and it sounds like a promise, which again, kind of surprises him. “I can keep you safe.”

“I literally just whooped your ass.”

“But I’ve survived this far. Trust me. It’s better if we stick together.”

It’s perhaps the certain, confident look in Mark’s eyes that makes the other man contemplates in silence, or maybe just something else entirely because he asks, “What kind of shit have you been through?”

Mark blinks. “Just like everybody else, I suppose.”

Mark can tell that he doesn’t agree with what he says, nor does he trust him, but Mark smiles again at him and asks, “Can you tell me your name? Or should I start calling you ‘little shit’ as well?”

“You’re not very cute, are you?” The man sighs, running a hand through his hair. It looks kind of fluffy, Mark notices, like a furry dog’s coat, as if he washes his hair regularly. And maybe he does, judging by the honey-like scent that comes from him. That’s probably why he lost the battle. He was distracted. “Just call me Haechan.”

“That’s your real name?”

“That’s just how they call me.” He glooms a bit. “Used to, anyway.”

“Well, you can call me Mark.”

“Nah, I’m just gonna keep calling you ‘little shit’.”

“You’re not very cute, are you?” Mark throws back his words at him.

“I’ll grow on you,” he replies, smirking at him and Mark feels dazed for a second—maybe because he got his head slammed against the floor earlier. Maybe.

“All right, Haechannie. Can I call you that?” Haechan grimaces but Mark continues nonetheless. “Haechannie, if it’s okay with you, I’m starving.”

Haechan stands up, looking at him with a bewildered look on his face. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

***

It’s funny how different it is to make friends during the time when everything is okay compared to when it’s at the end of the world but Mark is enjoying Haechan’s company more than he thought he would. It’s true that he’s not the easiest person to be friends with but when you haven’t met someone alive for months, you’d take anyone you could get—even if that person is a devil in disguise who practically spits fire every time he talks.

Haechan, Mark learns after spending an entire week with him, is the type of person who says mean things but doesn’t really mean it. Who laughs when he’s hurting inside. Who bites back with venom when someone insults him in the slightest way. But also, who sees and cares deeply for others even when he, himself, is needing help.

Mark can tell with the way Haechan secretly throws a blanket over him whenever Mark falls deep asleep on the couch. Or with the way he casually glides a warm cup of coffee down the table for Mark to catch every morning. Or simply by saying, “Watch your steps,” or “Be careful, you idiot,” whenever Mark goes out of the house to find some food and supplies during the day.

After three more days have passed, Mark insists for both of them to move out and Haechan finally agrees, saying, “I hate this house anyway,” even though his eyes do a double-take before he closes the front door.

“Is this your house?” Mark finally asks and he feels sorry for dragging him along like this but it’s for the sake of their safety.

Haechan, to Mark’s surprise, shakes his head and only mumbles, “Just had some memory with it.”

Mark slings an arm around his shoulders. “Then let’s just make another one. A much more fun one.”

Haechan smiles, but it’s bitter.

***

“I can’t believe you’ve never even tried to drive a car,” Haechan says, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple as he tries to hotwire a car. His black sleeveless shirt is sticking to his skin, and his plump cheeks are painted with tints of red from the heat. Mark has to remind himself to look away before he stares too long at how the muscles on his upper arm flex whenever he hammers a flathead screwdriver into a keyhole.

They had to choose between an Audi and a Wrangler, and Mark loved the Audi and Haechan probably did too but he always picked the opposite of Mark’s choice to spite him so they ended up with an eight-year-old Wrangler with a lot of scratches on the side.

“Well, I love walking.”

“What a load of bullshit, Mark.”

“What—it’s true! And also, it’s expensive, okay? I don’t steal expensive things. It makes me feel guilty.” Mark tries to add some common sense which makes Haechan roll his eyes in return. “Besides, I don’t have a driving license yet.”

“Neither do I, wimp, but I still drive.” He chucks out his screwdriver with a proud smirk on his face. The car’s engine is running loud—too loud for Mark’s liking but as long as it’s daylight, they should be fine.

“Driving without a license is irresponsible.” Mark puts his seatbelt on as he sits next to him on the front seat with his backpack tucked between his legs. “And dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right, I better stop before I get arrested by the nonexistent police officers around here.”

Mark sighs. There’s no winning an argument against this kid. They bicker more often than not, and just when they reach the end of their bickering, they will bicker again over a new topic and it really just goes endlessly but Mark is enjoying every second of it.

Haechan drives like a mad man to the point that Mark has to close his eyes and swallow the vomit that’s about to erupt from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, Haechan-ah, shouldn’t you slow down a bit?!”

“Why, because there’s traffic ahead?” Haechan snickers, turning the car window next to him all the way down and smiling as the wind ruffles his hair. “Loosen up a little, Canada, you need to live and enjoy the moment.”

Mark wheezes and almost faints when Haechan suddenly makes a u-turn just for fun before he steps on the gas again, blasting through the empty road. They’re now crossing the Seongsu Bridge, which overlooks the infamous Han River and weirdly enough, the entire place is empty—not even one car in sight—and Mark remembers how the government tried to isolate the country and lock people in their own houses to contain the outbreak. That’s probably why.

“I am trying to live,” Mark says as he clutches his seatbelt tightly with both hands. “Which is the more reason why you should be care—BRAKES, HIT THE BRAKES!”

And Haechan does, almost at the last moment before their jeep jumps into the river. The rest of the bridge has collapsed and Haechan was too busy looking at how clear and big the river was to notice the part where they’re about to fall off the edge.

Well, fuck, Mark thinks, so this is why there are no cars around.

Mark looks at Haechan with the most menacing, sadistic glare he’s ever made in his life. The younger man, in return, only grins mischievously and says, “Oops?”

They begin their search for a place to stay with Mark sitting behind the wheel this time. Haechan constantly whines and whines and whines about his driving not because he’s bad at it—he’s actually pretty good though Haechan won’t admit—but because he’s too fucking slow.

“Who the fuck drives twenty miles-per-hour on an empty street?!”

“People who nearly died from driving too fast, that’s who.”

“I hate you.”

“I’ll grow on you.”

They take a stop at the gas station to fill up the tank and Haechan steals three bags of Cheetos, four bottles of beer for himself and one bottle of mineral water for Mark because you’re the designated driver and Mark punches him on the shoulder.

***

“This house is nice.” Haechan settles down on the leather-clad sofa, throwing his bag on the floor and propping his legs on the table. “I think we should just stay here and never move out. Ever.”

It is a nice house. It’s not particularly huge, and it doesn’t have a second floor or a balcony which is completely fine. It’s safer that way, and it also has a basement with a comfy couch, a pile of board games, and a wine cellar. They can really use that to hide during critical moments, but he better checks it thoroughly first because again, those… things really enjoy dark places.

“We’ll see about that,” Mark responses, exhaling in relief when he’s sure that the place is safe. No zombies in sight. No trace of blood or human flesh. Just a nice, warm house with ultra-wide flat-screen TV and the latest version of PlayStation. Yeah, they probably should just stay here forever.

“Haechannie,” Mark starts but finishes early when he sees the young man sleeping with his puffy lips slightly parted. Mark smiles, he must’ve been so tired. They have been wandering for hours after all, trying to look for the best place to stay. But the sun is setting, and they have to cover all the windows and the doors to make sure that the zombies won’t be able to hear their voices or see their movements during the night.

“Haechannie,” Mark says, softer this time as he leans closer. “Haechan-ah, wake up. We still have work to do.”

There’s this sound that Haechan makes, somewhere between a soft moan and a sultry whine, that makes Mark feel a bit weird but he pushes the thoughts to the back of his head when Haechan slowly opens his eyes.

“Ugh,” he says, yawning, “You again.”

And Mark chuckles a bit. “Sorry, were you expecting someone else?” It was supposed to be a joke, but Haechan freezes at his words. “Haechannie?”

“What?” He asks, trying to act as normal as possible but Mark catches on. “Stop calling my name like that, it’s gross.” He stands up before Mark can blurt anything else and immediately says, “Come on, start working. I wanna sleep early.”

They sleep in different rooms like always, only this time, Mark spends his night staring at the ceiling and wonders whether he said something wrong earlier. But no matter how much he visited his memory and replayed the conversation, he still couldn’t find his fault. He remembered the hurting look Haechan had on his face, though, and it bothered him so much that he began to lose sleep.

The next morning, Mark feels even worse not solely because he didn’t catch much rest but because Haechan looks like he’s been crying himself to sleep.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, staring at the other man’s face as if Haechan is about to turn into a zombie.

“Are you okay?” Haechan is clearly trying to distract Mark away from him. “You look like you haven’t slept for years.”

“I was…” Mark fumbles with his words. “Distracted, I guess.”

“With what?”

He doesn’t answer and Haechan spends a few seconds analyzing him before he finally sighs and grumbles, “I guess we both have secrets. I’m gonna make some pancakes. Want some?”

Mark lightly nods though his heart still lays heavy in his chest. But if there are things he can’t tell, then maybe Haechan does too. Maybe all they need is time.

But time is limited in this world, even more so than before.

***

“Have you taken a shower yet?” Haechan asks with a towel hanging around his neck. His hair is damp and he sniffles with his nose slightly red from the cold. “No, wait, let me rephrase that. Have you ever taken a shower?”

Mark begins to count the little holes on the wooden floor underneath his feet to avoid looking at the way Haechan’s jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, or the droplets of water that drips from his chin to his bare chest.

“Get dressed, Haechan-ah, aren’t you cold?”

“No, the heater is on.” But he still sniffs as he picks up his hoodie. “Look, I know I’ve been calling you little shit but that doesn’t give you the authority to actually smell like one.”

“Huh,” Mark takes a hold of his shirt, sniffing against the fabric. “Wow, I do kind of smell.”

“Kind of? I’m shocked that these zombies haven’t found us already from how god awful you smell.”

“Don’t call them zombies, you’re being rude.”

“What the fuck do you call them?”

“Sick people?”

“Jesus Christ, I literally can’t with you.” He sits down next to him on the other side of the couch, pressing his back against the furniture and stares at the ceiling. “What are we having for breakfast today?”

“Canned food.”

“Dinner?”

“Canned food.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Wait, I think we can eat…” Mark doesn’t finish right away, making sure that Haechan has a hopeful look blossoming on his face. When he does, he finishes with, “Canned food.”

“Aaaaaah~” He whines in the way Haechan always whines which sounds kind of childish but endearing to Mark’s ears. “I’m so tired of having fucking canned foods every day!”

“Be grateful that we have food.”

“I’d be more grateful if we have real food. Can’t you make yourself useful for once and cook something?”

“We don’t really have the ingredients.”

“Then I guess, we’re going shopping.” Haechan huffs before he glances at the slightly taller man. “After you take a goddamn shower.”

Mark can no longer remember when was the last time he took a shower—and a nice, warm one at that—so he almost weeps in joy when the warm droplets rain down on him, washing all the dust and fatigue away from his body. He stands still, enjoying the warmth before he reaches out for some soap and lathers it down his skin. He notices he has some bruises along his arm from where he tripped down the stairs yesterday, trying to help Haechan carry a medium-sized cupboard to cover the front door. I can’t believe you couldn’t even keep yourself up even when I’m practically handling all the weight, Haechan scolded him with both hands on his hips and it makes him smile at the thought.

But the bruises remind him of the pain he felt and pain reminds him of his mother. Of the way she suddenly jolted her eyes awake after five days had passed. Of the way she bared her teeth, lurched herself toward him, and tried to bury her fangs and peel the skin off his body. Of the way he shook in horror, screaming in pain and the way he begged her to stop.

And of the way he sank the kitchen’s knife to her chest and kept it that way until she stopped moving.

“What took you so long?” Haechan asks when Mark finally steps outside the bathroom after half an hour has passed. He observes the look on his face before he adds, “How can you look even shittier after taking a shower? Your eyes are swollen.”

Mark rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I kinda cried while in there.”

“Because the shower was so good?”

“Sure.”

And Haechan doesn’t contribute any further, perhaps because of the way Mark looks like it’s something private they should both leave out of the conversation. Or maybe Haechan simply doesn’t care, Mark can’t be sure.

Mark doesn’t recognize the neighbourhood they’re in, so he lets Haechan leads the way to the nearest supermarket. The morning sun is warm on his skin, the leaves on the trees are turning orange and Mark can finally smell autumn after so long. He has grown tired of summer. It’s about damn time.

“Oh, I actually know this place,” Mark mentions, as they park their car a few feet away from the building.

“Congratulations, you just won at life,” Haechan utters flatly, taking three sheathed knives from his backpack and places them around the belt of his jeans.

“Must you be so rude all the time?”

“Just messing with you, Canada. Chill.”

“Why don’t you take any guns with you?”

“Because guns run out of bullets pretty fast. And these,” he stops with a smirk on his face, twirling a pocket knife around his fingers, “don’t.”

“Can you teach me sometimes how to use that?”

“And what do you have to offer, may I ask?”

Mark contemplates in silence. He really doesn’t have anything that might interest him, so he decides to joke about it. “My body?”

To his surprise, Haechan’s eyes grow wide and he doesn’t speak a word and it’s so weird because it’s supposed to be a fucking joke.

“I… I was just—” Mark splutters, blushing at his own antic. “I was just kidding.”

“It’s not funny, Mark.”

“Sorry.”

And Haechan lets out the loudest sigh ever before he steps down the car, leaving Mark inside looking like a goddamn idiot that he is.

“Okay, so,” Haechan straightens his posture, standing in front of the entrance door with his machete lays firmly on his hand. “Do we need a plan?”

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on, Mark,” Haechan whines. “Yes, I know we can barely get any sunlight inside the store but we’re not going to take long. We’ll just grab some things and run back here. Even if there are zombies in there, they’ll be burnt to a crisp the second we’re outside.”

“But—”

“Marrrrkkkkkk.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Mark pushes his hair back with one hand in defeat. “I’ll go first,” he says, cocking his handgun. “You watch my back.”

“Why do you have to go first?”

“Because I’m older.”

“But you’re shittier than me.”

“With a gun on my hand? Not as shitty as you’d think.” Mark smirks, and he thinks he sounds cool but by the way Haechan is staring at him, he realizes he’s not. A flashback of Haechan completely overpowering him even when he had his gun came back to his mind and he winces at the thought. “Okay, so, you wanna go first?”

Haechan sighs, taking a step forward. Mark trails after him soon after.

Mark remembers this place, knows every aisle like the back of his hand from how often he accompanied his mother to stock up their groceries every weekend. It doesn’t look like what he’d committed in his memory in the slightest, though. The lights are still on, but they’re flickering here and there and ceramic tiles are mostly covered with liquid stuff coming from bleachers, oils or something Mark can no longer tell. Most of the shelves are empty and a lot of goods are thrown all over the place, but fortunately, they’re not ruined.

Mark analyzes the place as best as he can with Haechan leading the way, doing the same. Everything seems fine and he can see Haechan’s shoulders relaxed a bit after a while. Swirling his knife around his fingers, he says, “I guess we’re alone.”

Mark nods. “All right,” he puts his gun on safety. “Let’s shop.”

Haechan says he wanted to eat some pasta for a change, and Mark follows with a hum. Anything other than canned foods sounds good these days. They stroll around the aisle, taking the necessary ingredients into their bags along with some toiletries and an abundance amount of water bottles.

Mark notices some board games when Haechan is busy flipping through pages of a Playboy magazine and he takes one that suits Haechan’s taste so they can spend more time together.

Mark freezes at the thought. Since when did he begin to want to spend time together with this pain in the ass?

“Yo, little shit,” Haechan calls, and Mark sighs. “Come here for a sec.”

Mark sneaks a glance over Haechan’s shoulders and feels his heart stops for a split second. “That’s—”

“Blood,” Haechan finishes, exchanging glances at him. “We’re not alone.”

Mark is still processing it down when a loud noise suddenly comes from two aisles behind them. With his heart jumping to his throat, Mark keeps his hands steady and points his gun forward. Haechan looms behind him, taking a long knife from the back of his shirt in another hand and stands alert.

“If it’s more than one, we run.”

“Don’t order me around, you little shit.”

But at this point, Mark knows how much Haechan depends on him and will follow his order in a heartbeat, which is kinda cute and reassuring, Mark thinks, as he swallows his breath. He’s prepared for the worst but what comes along is—

“It’s a dog!” Haechan claims, tucking both of his knives back around his belt and squats down on the floor next to Mark. “Come here, boy!”

It’s a Yellow Spitz, Mark notices, or a Nureongi people used to call. It has a short coat with patches of yellow and a melanistic mask on its face. By the sound of Haechan’s call, the dog comes running toward him with its mouth opened wide and its tongue lolling down.

“Ouch!” Haechan is laughing, enjoying the forceful tackle from the excited dog, and rubbing his hands along the fur. “Who’s a good boy?” He asks, rubbing the tip of his nose to the dog’s. “Yes, you are, you are a good boy—wait, no—“ Haechan grimaces when the dog licks his entire face, saliva blabbering over his skin but he laughs it off.

Mark stands on the side with a smile he secretly keeps to himself. He has never seen Haechan looking so young and open, like a child on his first trip, and it amuses him. “I didn’t know you could look like this,” he comments. “You should smile more often. It’s cute.”

Mark’s a bit taken by the look that fleets across Haechan’s face for a split second, and he swears that he just saw him blush but it’s too short to be sure about it.

“Maybe if you grow some fur, I will,” Haechan merely comments before he sticks his tongue out at him.

Mark only playfully rolls his eyes in response.

“Can we keep him?” Haechan’s asks as he cups the dog’s face and nuzzles their noses together. “You are so cute!”

“No. What happens if he barks?”

“But he doesn’t bark.” The dog suddenly barks two times and Haechan immediately wraps his fingers along its jaw to keep its mouth shut. “Or I can just do this whenever he does.” The dog growls, trying to wiggle itself away from Haechan’s grip. It suddenly looks nervous, almost terrified.

“Haechan,” Mark insists, “He’ll only attract attention. You know we can’t—”

“MARK, WATCH OUT—”

It happens so fast that by the time he realizes what’s happening, Mark is already on the ground, his back pressed against the ceramic floor with a zombie on top of him, baring his teeth and clawing at his skin. It’s in the form of a middle-aged man, in a cashier uniform with cloudy white eyes and dark veins covering his skin.

Luckily, Mark already has his hands in front of him, pushing that thing as far away as he could manage but it’s too strong. The zombie roars, spraying saliva mixed with blood onto his face and Mark immediately throws his head to the side. “Fuck!” He hisses, kicking it several times with his knee but it won’t budge, until suddenly a knife makes it way to its head, pushing through its brain and ending its life for good.

Haechan stares at Mark with horrified eyes, before he kneels down in front of him and immediately checks his face.

“Did you get his blood in your mouth?!” He asks frantically, worried to death by the look of it, almost like it was him who just got sprayed with zombie’s blood.

“I don’t think I did,” Mark says, still feeling quite dizzy.

“Spit it out!” Haechan shakes him desperately by the shoulders. “Spit everything out! Now!”

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so afraid—because aren’t they both supposed to be immune to the virus?—but spits out a few times just in case. He rubs the back of his hand against his mouth before he turns toward the other man. “Thanks for saving me.”

And Mark thought that Haechan was going to sigh loudly at him and call him an idiot little shit for a few times on their way home, but what he does is lean forward and wrap his arms tightly around Mark’s shoulders.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs almost in a whisper, before he pulls back, clears his throat and adds, “You little shit. You’re lucky you have me saving your ass.”

Well, Mark supposes, he’s partially right about his thought. “I am.”

Haechan blushes again, but he doesn’t let Mark see.

“Come on, we should get under the sun,” Haechan says, offering a hand which Mark gladly takes. “If there are more of them, we should be safe as long we’re outside.”

“Still want to take that dog with you?”

“Shut up, little shit.”

***

“Come on, you have to pick truth,” Mark says, with a guitar on his lap, playing random chord that matches Haechan’s hums. It’s still two hours away before the sun sets and they have been spending the entire day just lounging around watching old movies and playing stupid board games. “It’s called Truth or Dare for a reason, Haechannie, and I’m already out of ideas of what kind of dare you should do because apparently, you have no fear—or shame for that matter—when it comes to it.”

“You’re just not creative enough,” Haechan says, smirking to himself because he’s undefeated when it comes to taking a dare. Whenever Mark tries to humiliate him, it ends up with Haechan humiliating him instead. “Okay, fine, truth it is. Give it to me, you little shit.”

“You do realize that I’m your hyung, right?”

“Well, then, give it to me, Little Shit-hyung.” Haechan snickers and Mark throws his shoe at him.

“When’s your birthday?” Mark asks, munching a chocolate cookie.

“That’s your question?” Haechan exclaims. “Shit, Mark, I know you’re boring but I never thought you’d be this boring.”

“I just want to know you better!” Mark laughs when Haechan starts throwing Cheetos at him. “What is so wrong with that? You know you’d never tell me these things if I didn’t force you to do it.”

“Fine, geez,” Haechan succumbs, “Sixth of June.”

“Wait, let me put that in real quick.” Mark takes out his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans. It can no longer make calls or surf the internet, but it can come in handy to keep himself on track with dates and times. “Sixth of June,” he mutters to himself as he taps his thumb on his phone screen.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m adding your birthday to my calendar.”

“Yes, I know, Mark.” Haechan rolls his eyes impatiently. “I mean, why?”

“Why?” Mark laughs a bit, looking at him bewilderedly. “‘Cause we’re friends, you idiot.”

“We are?” Haechan dramatically gasps, which earns him a kick on the knee and he whines loudly about it.

“I just think we should celebrate it together,” Mark continues without a care. “Well, starting next year anyway, since we’ve both passed our birthdays by now. One sec.” He holds up a finger, running his thumb on his screen again. “Sixth of June. Little Shit’s birthday. And save.”

Haechan glares but doesn’t make any remark on it. “What’s there to celebrate about?” He questions flatly. “The world is ending, if you haven’t noticed.”

“And that’s your reason to not celebrate birthdays?” Mark snorts. “I know you’re boring but I never thought you’d be this boring.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Mark kicks him playfully on the knee again and they begin to wrestle until they become hungry. After quickly heating up some leftovers from the night before, they head toward their bedrooms.

“Stay quiet, little shit,” Haechan says, as he leans against his doorframe. “And if you’re gonna jack off—“

Mark throws a pillow on his face. “Just go to bed!”

“Okay, okay,” Haechan chuckles. “See you soon, Mark.”

“See you soon, Haechannie.”

Before Mark knows it, those words they say to each other become some kind of habit that they do every night. And the more they say them, the more they become like a promise for one another. It’s something that Mark needs, he realizes, because now he has someone to look forward to see in the morning. Someone with smiles as warm as the sun. And Mark can forget, at least for now, the fact that he’d lost everything and try to stay alive for another day.

***

Autumn is about to end and the weather is terrible for Mark during the night, as he can barely stand cold. He can turn on the heater, of course, but it will probably make too much noise so both he and Haechan agree to just slip under the duvet, and wrap as many blankets as they can find around their bodies.

Mark jolts awake when he hears his bedroom door being opened with a soft creak. His ears are now trained to keep himself alert at night, even with the slightest sound. He has one leg down the bed, ready to do whatever it takes to survive if a zombie comes barging in. His handgun lays safely under his pillow and it will only take a second for him to grab it. He had tampered his window with wood boards on the first day they’d settled here, but the moonlight still somehow sneaks in between the tiny spaces, giving very little light into the room but it’s enough for Mark to notice that it’s only Haechan, standing with his pillow pressed against his chest, a blanket around his body, and a pale look on his face.

What happened? Mark asks, moving his hands and fingers in a sign language they have both learned to survive. Is something wrong?

I can’t sleep. Haechan says, and Mark can’t really tell within the darkness of the room whether it’s a blush appearing on his cheeks or it’s just the moonlight playing tricks on him. Can I stay here with you?

Mark nods, and Haechan walks close, settling himself down on the carpeted floor next to the bed. Mark taps his shoulder and when Haechan looks over, he nudges his head toward the bed.

Come up. It’s cold.

Haechan nibbles on his bottom lip, hesitation in his eyes, but he finally stands up and wiggles himself under the blanket. Mark scoots over to give him as much space as he can, and they both end up staring at the ceiling, awkwardness and silence filling the air.

It seems like a minute has passed by but it feels like forever and Mark is about to throw up from how fast his heart is beating and he’s asking himself why the fuck am I feeling like this when Haechan suddenly turns over to his side and whispers his name.

Mark can feel his own body stiffen but he tries his best to relax. He turns to his side as well, facing him. “Hmm?”

“Can I move closer?” He asks and Mark’s stomach does a flip. “So I can hear you better, I mean.”

“S-sure.”

And Haechan moves close—close enough for Mark to breath in his scent, to know that he uses the same shampoo as he does even though there are three different kinds of bottles in the bathroom, and it somehow smells way better on him and Mark doesn’t know what to do with it but it distracts him so much.

“You okay?” Haechan’s voice is soft and lacks the usual snarky tone he usually laces his sentence with. Mark nods, a bit shakily and the younger man giggles quietly. “I know it’s uncomfortable sharing a bed with another dude but bear with me this time, will ya?”

“It’s…” Somehow, Mark’s throat feels like burning. “It’s not uncomfortable.”

Something gleams in Haechan’s eyes and Mark has to look somewhere else so he doesn’t fall deeper into that pair of chocolate brown eyes more than he already does.

“So, uhh,” Mark clears his throat. It’s weird that even when he’s whispering, his voice still breaks from how nervous he is. “Is there a particular reason why you can’t sleep?”

“Why so formal, Mark Lee.” Haechan snorts. “Must there be a particular reason for us to sleep together?”

Mark almost chokes at Haechan’s poor choice of words. Almost.

“How many hours left till dawn?”

“Umm,” Mark checks his phone, making sure he covers the light with his pillow. “It’s actually around two hours from now.”

“Well then, you’ve slept enough,” Haechan says, propping his chin on the pillow as he stares at him. “Accompany me till morning?”

“Sure, why not.”

And so he does, exchanging whispers in the dark and changing topics from one nonsense to another. Talking with Haechan is relaxing, Mark notices, though more often than not, it ends with an argument but he enjoys arguing with him. It feels like he’s learning more about him, more about the real Haechan—the one who is acting almost as young as a child—and not whatever it is he’s trying his best to be. And Mark is always happy to learn something new because he’s been studying Haechan’s figure over and over for the last few days and it’s tiring to be distracted by the shape of his pretty lips, or the cute tiny mole he has on his neck, or the sway of his hips when he walks.

“Are you sleepy?” Haechan asks after silence starts to grow within them and Mark curses inwardly. How the hell can I sleep when I’m so distracted with the way I can feel your breath on my neck is what he has in mind but on the outside, he just gives a nonchalant shrug and says, “Not really.”

“Good then.” Mark swears he can feel Haechan’s smile in his words and he can also feel the way he snuggles a tad closer, seeking his warmth. “Hey, Mark?” Mark hums in response. “How come you’re alone? I mean, someone as nice and frail as you can only live so long in a world like this without company.”

“I’m not sure whether you want to compliment me or insult me.”

“I just want to know more about you.”

It’s sincere and genuine, the way Haechan says it, and Mark raises an eyebrow, finally looking into his eyes again. “That’s a first. I thought you didn’t care about me.”

It’s Haechan’s turn to break off their gazes. “Believe me, I don’t. It’s just out of curiosity. Wha—is it so wrong? Stop looking at me like that!”

Mark bites his bottom lip to contain his laughter. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up!”

“Well, if you’re so curious about it,” Mark teases and Haechan pushes his palm against his face to wipe off his grin. Mark wraps his fingers around Haechan’s wrist to keep him away but he holds it a little bit longer than he’s supposed to before he lets go.

“I was staying with my parents when the outbreak happened,” Mark begins, locking his eyes at the ceiling and he can feel Haechan’s gaze scanning his face but he doesn’t dare to look. “Someone near my house got infected, and it traveled so fast that by the time I realized that the virus was airborne, people were already dying. And I—” Mark stops to take a breath, closing his eyes for a moment as the flashback hits him like a wave.

Haechan doesn’t say a word, but he reaches out to tangle his fingers around his under the blanket and Mark blinks at the touch before he smiles to himself.

“I watched my dad died,” Mark finally says, and it’s easier than he expected to be, probably because Haechan’s warmth is seeping into his skin. “It happened so fast. He was sitting on the dining table, already looking pale because of cancer that took him apart day by day, but the second he got infected, it was like something was exploding within him. And I watched him crumble, watched him reaching out to me for help and I just stood there. Watching him.”

Haechan holds his hand tighter. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Mark smiles weakly at him. “Thanks. I just wish I did something for him, you know? Like, hold his hand and tell him I love him, or something.”

“You were stunned.”

“I was just weak and afraid.” Mark unconsciously curls his fingers a bit harder that Haechan begins to wince but he doesn’t say anything about it. “I was so afraid that I’d die, just like him. It was until I found out I was immune that I began to cry and regret the whole thing. I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

Haechan shakes his head, whispering, “I would’ve done the same. Maybe even worse,” he adds a chuckle and it’s so genuine that Mark begins to feel like the heavy pain in his chest is being lifted little by little. “And your mom? What happened to her?”

It’s the question he’s been dreading the most but Haechan’s voice is silky smooth in his ears, and his touch is scorching against his skin, and as Mark breathes in his scent, everything becomes clear.

There’s a first for everything.

“My mom—” It still feels like he’s suffocating, so he intertwines his fingers with Haechan’s a little better to distract him from the pain. “When she got infected, she fell into a deep sleep. Like she went into a coma or something. And I was relieved because I thought she was going to wake up and smile at me again. I thought that her body was healing. I didn’t realize that she was… turning.”

Haechan’s breathing is steady while Mark’s is catching fire. “Mark, look at me.” And when Mark is too lost in his own thoughts, Haechan cups his cheek and forces him to look at him. “You’re okay. You’re with me now.”

Mark’s eyes are shaking but he gradually finds back his pace, finally able to catch his own breath. “I’m with you now,” he whispers back and Haechan smiles.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” Haechan says, rubbing comforting circles on the side of Mark’s face with his thumb. “And I kinda have a hunch on where this story is going.”

“You—“ Mark wets his lips. “You do?”

Haechan’s gaze is intense but gentle enough to wash Mark’s anxiety away. “All I have to say is,” Haechan starts, “We all have our sins. What you did was based on instinct. You were trying to protect yourself. Anyone would’ve done the same thing so stop blaming yourself.”

Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until Haechan wipes a tear away from his cheek. “You’re innocent, Mark Lee,” he assures, smiling at him. “You’re just living in a shitty world, that’s all.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says, smiling a little to himself as he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, washing all of his tears away. “Who are you and what have you done to my snarky-ass Haechan?”

“Your Haechan?”

Mark blushes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Haechan’s eyes gleam in a teasing manner. “What way then?”

Mark clears his throat. Hopefully, the night can cover how nervous he looks right now. “So, what about you?” He begins, putting his best effort to change topics. “What kind of sins have you committed that you start getting nightmares at night?”

The easy-going, reassuring facade Haechan tries to put on all night falters within an instant and this time, in the darkness and the silence of this room, he chooses to be honest.

“No,” he starts, exhaling heavily. “Nightmares happen only when you’re asleep. What I have happens when I’m awake.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s not something I want,” he murmurs quietly. “But I guess, it’s something I need. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy. I am going crazy.” He locks their gazes together, smiling like he’s on the verge of crying. “Would you mind hearing me out?”

Mark will listen as if his life depends on it and he promises him that in his heart. He nods.

“Promise you won’t judge me?”

Another nod.

“Promise you won’t leave me behind?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Haechan still looks unsure, but the more he takes in Mark’s feature and every detail of his expression, the more he wants to let go—to finally succumb to his sin, to hear someone say, “It’s okay, I forgive you. We all have our sins. We are not different.”

So in shaky whispers, he begins to tell the story and Mark listens.

Haechan was not alone before he met Mark. He had a family. He had a sister, only younger than he was by two years, and he’d loved her. He’d loved her so much that when his parents started to collapse, he took a hold of her hand and drag her to run without looking back even when his mother was still screaming his name, asking him for help. He knew it was too late to save them, but saving his sister was not.

Her sister, just like him, was also immune to the virus and Haechan thought everything was fine. They could still live and be happy together. So they began to wander during the day, and hugged each other to sleep during the night at an abandoned house, sharing headphones to mute down the snarling sounds of the creatures lurking around under the moonlight. They were okay. They were alive.

Until one day, when Haechan was too busy getting supplies from the kitchen, her sister wandered by herself toward the basement of a new house they found. Haechan didn’t know about it, wasn’t careful enough to check, and when he heard her scream, he realized it was too late.

There was a zombie, trapped inside the basement that crawled out when she opened the door. It was so fast, jumping on top of her and ripping the skin on her arm with its teeth. Haechan was so frantic that he began to stab it multiple times on the face, tearing its face apart again and again and again until his sister embraced him from behind and begged him to stop. Haechan held her in his arms like he’d never held anyone before and he thanked God for letting her stay alive, though badly injured.

Because he thought her injury would heal.

He thought she wouldn’t get infected because she was immune.

But when she became paler and paler with more days passing by, Haechan began to worry. Her skin began to rot little by little, and her stench was so strong that Haechan began to hold his breath whenever she was close. Black veins were creeping up her skin and she lost her beautiful brown eyes soon after, having them changed into a pair of cloudy white eyes.

Haechan was so afraid by the look of her that he began to apologize. Sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, he said again and again as he wrapped a scarf around her mouth, stopping her from calling his name. She was begging for him to spare her life and yet he held his knife firmly with both of his shaking hands, and he plunged it toward her chest.

She died in his hands, along with a part of him.

“She was still human when I killed her,” Haechan confesses, his voice quivering. “She kept asking me why, why are you doing this but I kept going. I can still remember how warm her blood was on my hands. I was so afraid. I was so afraid of her.”

Mark does not speak during his story and he finds himself lost for words when Haechan grows quiet. The silence is deafening and he knows he should say something, anything, but he’s busy trying to understand the look on Haechan’s face.

Their breathing matches each other’s and Haechan quietly laughs, “You know, it’s weird. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry but—”

And he breaks apart in the way Mark never sees anyone does.

Haechan’s whole body shakes as he gives his best effort to muffle his scream by biting his lower lip hard enough to the point it almost draws blood. He covers his face with both hands, sobbing furiously to his palms and even if he tries his best to be quiet, Haechan is still making noise.

And Mark wonders whether it’s because of that very reason of survival or it’s just really something he’s been wanting to do every time Haechan beams at him with that blazing smile of his, but he finds himself reaching forward, tangling his fingers around the strands of Haechan’s hair and pulls the other boy forward until their lips meet in a frantic kiss.

Haechan’s eyes grow wide for a good couple of seconds and Mark finally comes back to his senses when he notices the way the other boy stiffens in his arms. Haechan has momentarily stopped crying due to the sudden surprise, though the tremor of his previous sobs is still there and he’s looking at Mark with these huge, mesmerizing round eyes, with nothing but confusion and shock on his face, and Mark begins to ask himself what the fuck did I just do.

“Fuck, I—” Mark has never struggled this hard to find the right word in his entire life. “I didn’t know why—”

But he probably doesn’t need to say anything, because Haechan is taking the rest of his sentence into his own mouth, and tasting Mark’s feelings directly with his tongue. He’s being forceful, pulling Mark close with all his strength until the other man stumbles upon him and they’re pressed together chest-to-chest. Haechan has his hands circling around the collar of Mark’s shirt, smashing their lips together and they kiss hard and fast, tasting each other’s—owning each other’s—mouth until Mark is breathing his breath and Haechan is breathing his.

“More,” Haechan gasps, teeth nibbling against Mark’s bottom lip. “More, Mark, please.” And Mark just crumbles, moaning against his mouth and takes every soft whine that comes from Haechan into his memory.

None of them care at this point if they’re being too loud, so it’s really their luck that the sun has risen outside, its light seeping through the window, basking them with warmth but none of them need it. Not with the way Mark is hovering above him, his hands slipping under Haechan’s sweater, running his fingertips along the golden skin and emitting more moans from the other man.

“Haechannie.” Mark has his earlobe between his teeth and he sucks at the soft skin, before peppering kisses down the column of his neck. Haechan arches his back, grinding their hips together and begs him to, “Take my fucking clothes off, Mark.”

Clothes are scattered on the floor within an instant, and as Mark sits on his lap just for a few seconds as he pulls his own shirt over his head, Haechan is already latching his mouth on his stomach, licking a stripe up his chest before he pulls Mark down on top of him again.

“I want to feel you,” Haechan breathes out between gasps, “I want to feel all of you.”

“Calm down,” Mark says, softly smiling against his forehead “I’m not going anywhere.”

And they stop just to take a thorough glance at each other’s face now that the light is bright enough for them to see properly. Haechan traces his fingers on the side of Mark’s face, as if he’s a sculpture waiting to be adored, and it takes all the control of his body not to kiss him again right then.

“I’m really glad I met you,” he whispers as he brings his lips to Mark’s, pausing momentarily, just to add, “You little shit.”

And Mark laughs into his mouth but only for a moment before passion starts to take control of him again and he’s moaning, “Haechannie, Haechannie,” directly to his ear as they rock their hips together.

***

It’s already midday when Mark opens his eyes, sitting on his bed with a blank stare as if his soul just left his body. He thinks he just had the most pleasant dream he’s ever witnessed in his twenty-one years of living, but when he notices how his pillow smells like honey, realization hits him like a wave.

It’s not a dream. Haechan was really here.

So he jumps down his bed, trips over his own clothes and swears under his breath as he tries to dress as fast as he can. He stumbles out of his room, running toward the kitchen where he finds Haechan sitting on the kitchen’s counter with his legs dangling in the air.

Haechan’s eyes slightly grow wide at the sight of Mark standing gawkily in front of him with his terrible bed hair, but he quickly gains control of himself. “Morning,” he casually says, raising the red colored mug he always uses, “Coffee?”

Mark curls his fingers around the fabric of his sweat pants. “Okay.”

It’s awkward. It feels so, terribly awkward that they begin to tense every time one of them breathe a little too hard, or sip their coffee a little too loud. Mark is sitting on the opposite of Haechan on the dining table, like how they usually do, but it feels like the earth is about to swallow him whole.

“Haechannie!” Mark begins, a little bit too loud that they both flinch at the sound of his voice. “About last night—I-I mean, this morning—when we—”

“Do you regret it?” Haechan’s voice, unlike Mark, is much steadier, almost too formal, even. But after spending months with him, Mark can tell that he’s about as nervous as he is.

“Reg—no, of course not!” Mark has his eyebrows furrowed together. “Do you?”

Haechan looks away, taking a sip of his coffee as he murmurs quietly. “No.”

And silence comes in again like an old friend and Mark despises it so much because it’s making him insane. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Haechan sighs, scratching the back of his head and Mark finally notices that oh, he’s just embarrassed about it.

“I don’t really know how to face you,” he admits, blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “I didn’t think we’d end up that way.”

Mark opens his mouth but unsure of his words. “Then…” he whispers, uncertainly, with throat feels like blazing in flames. “Do you want to pretend it never happened?”

Haechan seems taken aback. Shocked, even, to hear Mark proposing something like that. Scowling a bit, he places his mug on the table with a loud thud and walks closer.

“Haechan—”

His kiss is more teeth than anything else and Mark freezes, not knowing what to do as Haechan climbs into his lap, twisting his hair around his fingers. It’s suffocating, the way Haechan kisses, but Mark likes it so much that he doesn’t mind if Haechan takes all his breath away with his.

After a good minute has passed, with a string of saliva connecting their parting lips, Haechan asks between heavy breaths, “Do you want to pretend this never happened?”

“Fuck no,” Mark replies in an instant and this time, he’s the one who takes Haechan’s breath out of his lungs.

They sleep on the same bed every night but only embrace each other during the day because Mark is getting exceptionally good at it and Haechan is having trouble keeping his moans to himself. They still share kisses in the dark but Mark always places his palm over Haechan’s face and pushes him away whenever it gets too much.

They haven’t moved out of the house even after the season has changed and Mark is getting an eerie feeling of being followed. “They’re triggered by movements and sound,” Haechan comforts him as he sits crossed-legs on the couch with a game controller in his hand, “So as long as we’re dead quiet during the night and stay out of sight, we’ll be fine.”

“You’re right,” Mark agrees, though his heart still feels heavy in his chest. “I don’t know, I just… I can’t help but worry, that’s all.”

“Yes, because that’s you. All you do is worry.”

“I have been doing something else in the last few days, actually,” Mark says, suddenly leaning forward from behind the couch and whispering close to his ear, “Or rather, someone.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan says but his lips are turning into a cheeky grin. “Keep doing that, and I’ll attack you again.”

And Mark teases again because they both know that’s what they want. It’s funny how the world is ending and yet Mark feels like he’s complete. As if everything just fell into places. And seeing Haechan writhe underneath him, as he thrusts in and out, is something he could never even dream to have in his previous life.

Haechan is quite possessive, Mark learns, by the way he nips at the juncture of his neck until purplish bruises bloom along his skin. Mark knows how much Haechan likes to sink his teeth on his shoulder when Mark hits that spot deep inside him, and he loves it when he can make Mark groan at the pain, muttering, “Fuck, that’s so hot—you’re so hot—” before he takes Mark’s bottom lip between his teeth again. It’s as if he wants to make it known to the world that he belongs to him, even when they’re the only two people in the world.

“Donghyuck,” Haechan suddenly says, out of the blue as they share French toasts for breakfast.

“It’s Mark, actually.”

“No,” Haechan laughs, almost spilling his coffee. “My name, you idiot. Lee Donghyuck is my real name.”

“What?!” Mark complains, feeling utterly betrayed. “After all this time, you’re just telling me now?”

“Well, I like the way you say Haechan,” he explains. “So I don’t mind if you call me that. I just thought you should know.”

But Mark is still kind of upset about it and he still does for the rest of the day, until Haechan sits on his lap that afternoon, attempting to wash the pout off his face with something exciting and Mark leaves no time to waste. He calls Haechan’s name—his real name—whenever their hips meet together and Haechan blushes and begs him to stop, telling him it’s weird, but Mark still continues because somehow he can feel Haechan tightening around him when he does and Mark likes to see him crumble into a moaning mess that he is now.

***

“You’re shit at cooking, Mark,” Haechan grumbles with his eyes still bleary from sleep. He stabs his fork not too gracefully to something that Mark called as a decent-looking sunny side up. “Look at this.” He glares at the burnt white egg. “I mean, seriously, what the heck is this?”

“It’s food. Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

“Okay, Mom.” Haechan rolls his eyes, grimacing dramatically at the man who sits opposite him when the piece of food enters his mouth. “Yuuuuuummmm.”

“Shut up,” Mark shouts but he can’t stop himself from laughing. Haechan is so annoyingly hilarious and he whines about Mark’s cooking every single day but never even tries to offer any help or take charge of the cooking duty for him. Mark never gets upset about it, though, because Haechan looks cute when he pouts and if it takes one plate of his bad cooking to see that adorable pout on his face then Mark will serve his decent-looking sunny side up every day.

They eventually stop conversing to be able to chew on their foods properly and Haechan has his eyes busy scanning the PlayBoy magazine he stole from the supermarket the other day. Mark has his gaze on his plate as he plays with his egg’s yolk using his fork, but his mind is somewhere else.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I love you.”

Haechan’s fork flies out of his hand and ends with a clatter on the floor. Mark’s terrible fried egg is still half-chewed on his now half-opened mouth and it’s not an attractive sight in the slightest but Mark looks at him as if he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I—Y-you—” Haechan, the sharp tongue Haechan, never stutters in his twenty years of living and Mark is somehow proud of himself for being able to drive him to this point. “What the hell are you talking about—why—”

“Because I do.” Mark’s tone is so serious that it feels like he’s reading the news or reading the result of the latest presidential election. “I have been for quite some time. I just wasn’t sure you felt the same so I kind of keep quiet about it.”

And Haechan can only stare, and stare, and stare until he realizes that it’s better to just stay silent and do what his body tells him to do.

Mark is forced to stand on his feet before a pair of plump lips attack his own in a mind-numbing kiss. It’s a bit messy and Haechan tastes like the breakfast he just ate but Mark sighs against his mouth and lets him pull his shirt over his head.

Mark pushes his plate away from the table so Haechan can sit on the edge and tangle his legs around his waist and when it slips down to the floor, porcelain breaking into smaller pieces, he pays no mind because Haechan is now laying down on the dining table with his shirt going up to his chest. He pulls Mark down by the neck, and forcing him to grind his hips against him.

“You’re unbelievable,” Haechan gasps into his mouth, running his teeth along Mark’s lower lip. “Couldn’t you have picked a better moment to say that?”

“Sorry.” Mark’s lips part in a silent moan when Haechan slips a hand underneath his sweat pants and teases him over his underwear. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I woke up and it started driving me insane so I just had to say it.”

“Fuck, Mark, you’re so unfair.” Haechan takes a hold of Mark’s hand, leading him to where he wants to be touched and softly whines when Mark indulges him. “Tell me more,” he gasps, clawing against Mark’s skin as they rub their lengths together. “I want to, ah fuck, hear more, Mark, please.”

And Mark doesn’t hesitate one bit when he praises him, complimenting every little part, every little detail. I love you. I love your honey-like scent. I love your smile, and this mole you have on your neck. I love the way you say my name.

Haechan is powerless under Mark’s words, begging and writhing for Mark to pound into him until he sees stars and Mark is more than eager to comply. I love the way you moan. I love the way you arch your back. I love you, I love seeing you like this. You’re so pretty, Haechannie. So fucking beautiful.

And Haechan comes hard on his stomach with his teeth sinking at the crook of Mark’s neck, muffling his moan and he pushes Mark back to his chair, crawling between his legs and taking Mark deep into his mouth.

“Fuck.” He takes a handful of Haechan’s ash grey hair, slightly thrusting into his warm mouth and whimpers at how sexy Haechan looks on his knees, cheeks hollowing as he sucks him hard and fast. He has surprisingly long eyelashes, Mark admires, with small tears trapped between them from how hard Mark is hitting the back of his throat.

Mark’s about to come undone, low groans appearing at the back of his throat when Haechan suddenly stops and takes him out entirely, only giving kitten licks at the tip. Mark mewls with his eyebrows knitted together, begging Haechan to stop being a fucking tease and Haechan just grins against his skin because that’s simply what he is—a tease—and Mark is conflicted between loving and hating that trait of him at the same time.

Haechan eventually stops torturing him and sucks deep and slow the way he knows Mark would like it until Mark is spouting nonsense from his mouth, pushes himself forward abruptly and comes into his mouth. Haechan exhales heavily as he waits for Mark to finish, enjoying the low grunt he’s emitting before he swallows everything down. A little bit of his essence drips down his chin and Mark immediately apologizes with a stutter, pulling Haechan carefully into his lap and wipes his mouth with gentle strokes of his fingers. “You all right?”

Haechan looks up at him from under his bangs, his eyes half-lidded with lust as he takes two of Mark’s tainted fingers and places them between his lips, licking every bit of him with his tongue. Mark is looking at him with unblinking eyes and jaw hanging slack on his face.

Haechan leans close to embrace him, wrapping his arms around his neck and he sighs, kissing one of Mark’s shoulders. “I love you too,” he whispers and even though Mark can’t see, he dares to bet on his life that Haechan is now blushing mad at his own words. “But don’t get too cocky about it, you little shit.”

Mark chuckles because this is so Haechan. He pulls back so he can look at him in the eyes and Haechan is indeed blushing—even to the tip of his ears. “I won’t,” Mark says, letting his lips linger on his forehead. “I won’t, so stay with me, Haechannie. As long as we’re alive, don’t ever leave me.”

Haechan smiles. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

***

“Okay, ready?” Haechan asks, a knife sits firm on his hand. “On three. One, two, three!”

Mark kicks the front door open, inviting himself to a new house he’s not familiar with. They both run out of food so it’s about time to search around again. It’s the only house in the closest neighbourhood that they haven’t ransacked yet, and it’s because the windows are covered with cardboard, and the sunlight cannot penetrate in. And the number one rule of living in this world is that you have to be in places where the sunlight can reach.

It’s dark inside the house—so, so dark, in fact, that Mark has to place a flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other. “See anything weird?” He asks, as he observes as much as he could himself.

“Nope, they would come out by that ruckus we just made if they were here so I think we’re safe.” Haechan points his finger toward the kitchen. “Jackpot.”

“Stay close to me,” Mark reminds him and they both walk side by side with their weapons still aimed. There’s a window above the kitchen counter that Mark immediately tries to punch and kick through but to no avail. It won’t budge.

Turning to Haechan, who’s in charge of bringing weapons, “Do you have something to use to break that open? We need sunlight.”

“Okay, wait, I’ll—”

It’s faster for Mark’s eyes to process what is happening compared to his ears and what he sees is Haechan being tackled to the ground by a woman with cloudy white eyes and rotten flesh. And before Mark can even shout his name, he can feel his own body slammed against the wall, and a pair of large hands trying to rip his stomach open.

There are two of them and they’re both stronger than he could ever be.

Mark can hear Haechan shouting his name, but whether it’s because he’s trying to save him or screaming for help, he’s not sure and he doesn’t have time to think so. Mark lands a kick to the living corpse’s chest and it stumbles a little but enough for Mark to aim for his chest. He takes a shot, the sound of his gun thundering in the air, and pulls his trigger again to lands a bullet on its head. Mark quickly aims his gun at the female corpse next, missing his target by a few inches but enough to distract her enough so Haechan can slice her throat open with his knife.

“Haechan!” Mark immediately runs over to his place, pulling him up by the waist and drags both of their bodies until they’re outside the house, where the sun is blazing over their heads. Both of them are lying down on the empty street, breathing hard and feeling adrenaline slowly rushes out of their veins.

“Fuck, we almost died,” Mark says, turning over to see the younger man who’s wincing from the pain. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Haechan hisses, “But I think my hand is—” The rest of his words hang in the air. “Mark.”

Mark follows his gaze and shudders at what he sees. There’s a bite mark just a few inches away from his wrist, and it’s deep enough to draw blood and nearly rips his skin apart. And if Haechan’s story was true, then—

“Stay away from me!” Haechan nearly trips over his own feet from how fast he tries to get away from him. He’s standing on his feet with his arms reaching out to keep their distance apart. “Don’t you dare get close to me, Mark.”

“What—” Mark jumps to his feet as well, stepping forward and Haechan points a knife to his face. “Haechan, calm down.” He raises both arms in the air, trying his best to stay sane for both of their sakes. “Let’s think this through.”

“No.” He furiously shakes his head. “You need to stay away from me—”

“Haechan, we’re immune—calm down—”

“Not if we’re bitten, Mark! Fuck, didn’t you hear what I said back then—”

“Yes, but we’re not sure whether you’re going to. Maybe it’s different for everyone—”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not taking any chances,” Haechan hastily insists. “Go back to the house, Mark.”

“No.”

“Just go back to the fucking house!”

“And where are you going then?!” He’s shouting back at him at this point, his voice sounds thick with desperation. “Huh?! Just where are you going to go?”

Haechan grits his teeth, desperately looking for an answer himself. “It’s none of your business—”

“No fucking way, I’m coming with you.”

“Why aren’t you listening to me—”

“Because you’re not making any sense, why would I listen to you?! Just get back here, Donghyuck, and we’ll think about it when we get home!”

It’s tempting, especially after he hears his real name coming from Mark’s mouth but it’s not right. Haechan knows it’s not right. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mark.”

“Nobody is going to get hurt, so please…” Mark lowers his voice, taking a careful step toward him. “Please, Donghyuck. Come back to me. I don’t want to be alone, not again.”

Haechan has tears forming in his eyes as he brings his head up to face the clouds, and he stands still when Mark wraps his arms gently around him, pulling him close. “I’m scared, Mark,” he whispers, emitting soft sobs from his mouth and Mark nods, saying the same thing and they both just stand there in each other’s arms with Mark running his fingers up and down his spine to soothe him down.

“Let’s go home,” Mark says, cupping Haechan’s cheeks with his palms and forces him to meet his eyes. “Okay?”

Haechan nods, sobbing quietly. “Okay.”

***

Two days have passed and Mark doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do.

Haechan is dying, and he dies little by little with every second passing by. It’s so apparent and fast, the transformation process, that when Mark fell asleep on Haechan’s shoulder just for a few minutes, he woke up with a jolt, noticing how paler Haechan has gotten and how rotten the smell that came from his skin.

His golden skin is now blotchy, black veins appearing underneath it and he looks ghastly.

“Mark…”

Mark can no longer recognize his voice. It’s more like a croak, as if his vocal cords are thinning into a small string that’s about to snap. Every time Mark holds his hand, and winces at how freezing cold it is, Haechan tries to pull it away with the little strength he has left and whispers for him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you,” Mark always whispers back, and they both know it’s a promise. Haechan just wishes Mark would break it, because keeping it will only mean death for both of them.

The house that used to be so lively during the day and silent during the night, feels like a tombstone for every second that passes by. Mark hasn’t gone out of the house for a while, and he’s only eating one meal per day and drinks as little as he can to save every little food they have left. He forces Haechan to eat as much as he can, though, but the latter usually denies, telling him that he’s about to vomit when he has food on his tongue.

Mark carries him to his bed every night like usual but he no longer wraps his arms around him, otherwise he’d be shivering to death. Haechan’s skin is ice cold, and although he’s breathing very, very slowly, the puffs of air that flows out from his mouth do not feel warm in the slightest.

“Mark…” Haechan whispers into the night and Mark can’t contain the sadness that blooms in his heart when he hears how broken his voice is. “There are so many things… I wish I could say to you…”

“Mean things, I suppose?” Mark tries to keep it normal but the air still feels tense. “Donghyuck?”

Haechan’s chocolate brown eyes are gradually turning into silver and in the darkness of the room, they almost glow. “Thank you… for staying with me…” he murmurs and Mark can tell that Haechan is on the verge of crying, but he doesn’t. He’s no longer able to.

“It’s an honor, Haechannie.”

***

Mark hasn’t slept properly for three days and it’s taking its toll on him. He’s either staring at the ceiling, trying his best to count Haechan’s breathing and making sure that it doesn’t stop or waking up every few minutes with cold sweat, thinking that Haechan is leaving him for good.

So at one point, his body can no longer take it and he falls asleep with his head on Haechan’s shoulder. They’re sitting on the floor with their backs pressed against the wall, facing the front door. Mark has his handgun ready on his side, along with some of Haechan’s knife, but they haven’t been touched for a while. And Mark is not planning to touch it in the near future.

He wakes up with a heart attack when the front door is opened with a bang, and with bleary eyes, Mark sees several figures entering the house at once. He reaches for his handgun by instinct and aims it toward the crowd, but—

“Wait!” A man’s voice booms through the air. “Don’t shoot!”

It finally sinks in that it’s daylight and Mark is seeing people—actual breathing people who look just as weary as he is though not sleep-deprived—coming into his house. They have weapons in their hands, from crossbows to shotguns, but a man, who looks like he’s in charge, steps forward with both arms raised and sends him a reassuring smile.

“Calm down,” he says, “I’m human, just like you.”

Mark, who stands in front of Haechan by instinct to protect him, can’t believe what he’s seeing and he’s calculating whether it’s really just a dream but another man, a taller one with sharp jaws, points his gun at Haechan and Mark snaps back to reality.

“Taeyong-hyung,” the man says, “That one is turning. We should kill him.”

“NO!” Mark has his gun raised again, ready to pull the trigger. “Put your gun down or I’ll shoot, I swear to God, if you touch him—”

“Jeno,” the leader—the one who’s called Taeyong—waves a hand, suggesting him to drop his weapon down. “It’s okay. Let’s talk about this first.”

Mark drifts his eyes from one man to another, carefully reading their faces. “Who are you?”

“A survivor,” Taeyong smiles and it seems genuine but Mark doesn’t trust him in the slightest. “Like you.”

His heart is beating like crazy and he’s so amazed that there are, in fact, others like him who appear to be in much better condition too. “How many are you there?”

“Hundreds. We’re looking for more people to join our colony. We believe there are more survivors out there, and we can fight back if we grow in numbers.”

“Fight how? There’s no cure.”

“We’re immune as long as we’re not bitten.” Taeyong spares a glance at Haechan and Mark almost growls at him. “We’re harvesting our own foods, as well. You should come with us.”

“Can he come?” Mark nudges his head toward Haechan.

Taeyong has the audacity to look sympathetic, unlike his friend Jeno, who is still glowering at Haechan as if he’s a prey to be eaten when it’s supposed to be the other way around. “I wish I could say yes,” Taeyong says, “But I don’t think he can.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Taeyong sighs, but he keeps a gentle smile plastered on his face. “Can I, at least, know your name?”

Mark hesitates and he knows he’s being too cautious about everything, probably because Haechan is being targeted. Under different circumstances, he would’ve taken Taeyong’s hand in a heartbeat. “It’s Mark.”

“It’s nice to see you alive, Mark,” Taeyong says, offering his hand and Mark deliberately takes it for a handshake. “Is that your friend over there?”

Mark turns around, glancing at the man and he sees Haechan staring at him with soft eyes, his breathing slow and maybe he tries to smile but all he does is breaking Mark’s heart. “He’s—” Mark’s breath gets hitched on his throat. “He’s my family.”

Haechan closes his eyes, lips turning slightly upward.

“I’m sorry.” Taeyong places a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I really wish I could help, but there’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing you can do. It’s already too late.”

Mark knows that, he’s been telling himself that, but having it told directly to his face still hurts like it’s the first time he’s hearing it. “I know that.”

“I think he wants you to come with us too.” Taeyong walks closer to Haechan but still maintaining safe distance so Mark won’t aim his gun toward him again. He kneels in front of him, gently asking, “Isn’t that right?”

Haechan’s eyes are moving slow, searching Taeyong’s face and maybe his vision has already become blurry from the way his lenses are turning silver, but his gaze is firm when he nods.

“Please,” Haechan says, softly, quietly, and heartbreakingly, “Take him with you…”

Mark can hear his own heart shattering. “Haechan—”

“You sure?” Taeyong confirms and Haechan gives the slightest nod of his head. Mark’s not sure whether it’s because he’s too weak to move or he just doesn’t want Mark to go. Mark wishes for the latter, but Taeyong is waving one hand and the next thing he knows, he is being dragged across the room.

“No! Wait—don’t touch me—” Mark struggles, kicking all over the place as he is being held down by two guys who are way more muscular than he is. “Don’t you fucking touch me—”

“Mark.”

Mark freezes, his stomach flips at the sound of Haechan’s voice. It’s louder this time—loud enough for everyone to hear and for Mark to have his heart crushed to pieces. “Just go.”

“It’s better to live than to die, Mark, even in a world like this.” Taeyong says, wrapping a hand around Mark’s wrist and this time, Mark follows. It’s as if all the strength of his body is leaving him and he’s not able to stand on his own feet if Taeyong doesn’t pull him up.

And as he walks away, Mark keeps his eyes on Haechan, still asking him why are you doing this? But Haechan only smiles and mouths something that makes his eyes widen. He’s saying the words—the promise—they usually share with one another, but this time, Haechan doesn’t have the power to make it come true. But he still says them, because that’s his final wishes before everything turns dark.

See you soon, Mark.

***

Mark’s first day in the colony feels like the world is ending, which is saying something because the world is ending but he just really feels like it is the second Haechan is out of his grasp.

Taeyong has offered him more variety of food than he has seen for the past two months and he still stares at his plate like it’s empty and he doesn’t know what to do with it. The place is safe, guarded with tall gates and watchmen, and there’s a campfire near the tent he’s staying. Mark knows how Haechan would’ve loved that. He would probably be dancing around it, telling Mark to play another Michael Jackson song with his guitar—Billy Jean, maybe—as he busts a move. And Mark would most likely have a hard time pressing the chords because when Mark dances more with his hands, Haechan dances more with his hips and he’s so naturally good at it that it makes Mark suffer from his longing to touch him. To wrap his arms around his waist, to mold his lips against his full ones, to peel every piece of clothing off his body so he can rake his fingers along the smoothness of his spine.

There are so many survivors around him, and people like Jungwoo and Lucas do smile brighter than the sun but Mark just wants to lurk in the dark. He already has his sun once, and that sun is dying.

“Mark,” Taeyong calls, sitting next to him in front of the campfire that dances in Mark’s eyes. “How are you holding up?”

Mark doesn’t answer, and it’s probably unfair because Taeyong has been nothing but good to him but he no longer cares.

“Look,” Taeyong exhales, placing a hand on Mark’s back. “I know how you feel but—”

“Don’t fucking tell me that,” Mark snaps, slapping his hand away. “Don’t tell me you know how I feel. You don’t.”

And Taeyong gives him a minute to catch his breath because it’s true. He’s breathless. He’s been feeling like he’s suffocating from the first time he took a step out of his house and into Taeyong’s van. But no matter how many hours have passed, he still couldn’t breathe.

“We need every survivor we can get,” Taeyong softly explains. “We can survive longer if we cooperate. Protect each other. And I really think it’s the best choice for both of us, but if you feel like this is not for you, then I won’t hold you back. That’s your decision to make.”

Mark looks up at the sky, which is painted in orange as the sun’s about to set. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Sorry for being such an asshole and taking all of this out on you.”

“Most people act the same when they first got here, so I kind of get used to it by now.” Taeyong chuckles. “We all have our stories, Mark, but whether we end it and start over with another page or dwell with the ending too long is our choice. And as you can see here, we’ve all made our choices. We chose to flip a new page.”

Mark takes a look at his surroundings, really observing every detail and he knows that the happiness around him is real. These people appreciate life more than they did and they find comfort in each other. Even if the world is ending, it feels just like another day of a new world for them. Another day to start over. Another day to appreciate joy if you give it a chance and look close enough.

“Have you lost someone close to you?” Mark asks, almost in a whisper and Taeyong spares him a glance.

“More than I can count,” he answers and if Mark listens very closely, he would notice the shiver in his voice. “I had someone before. Someone that I really loved. Almost like what you two had.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Taeyong exhales into the evening sky. “Like everybody else, I suppose. He died.”

“From what?”

“From a bullet to the head.” Taeyong breathes heavily. “My bullet.”

The silence hangs in the air and it just dawns on him that of course Taeyong has lost someone to the virus. Of course he knows how Mark feels. He’s been through a lot more than Mark ever did.

Taeyong told him that his name was Jaehyun but he always told them to call him Jay because it felt cooler that way. Mark witnesses how a longing smile appears on Taeyong’s face every time his mouth forms Jaehyun’s name but it doesn’t stay long. “He was bitten when he tried to save me,” Taeyong mentions, fiddling with his own fingers. “I thought he would heal, but—”

“He didn’t.”

Taeyong glances at him, at how Mark is fighting back the tears that form in his eyes and he exhales, puffs of air flowing from his thin lips. “He didn’t,” Taeyong finishes.

“I’m sorry,” is all Mark has to say after a while and that’s enough, it seems, by the gentle smile on Taeyong’s face. The older man lands a hand on Mark’s dark locks, patting his head like a father to his son, before he stands up and stretches his arms above his head.

“Talking from experience,” Taeyong says, walking away. “He still has at least a day.”

Mark knows he’s talking about Haechan, just like how he’s been thinking about him himself even during Taeyong’s story, and he notices something slips out of the pocket of his jeans. “Taeyong-hyung, you dropped something.”

“No, I didn’t.” He throws a mischievous smile over the shoulder. “Good night, Mark.”

It’s a key. Taeyong’s car key, Mark remembers, as it had jiggled around his hand when he took him in before. And Mark knows that it’s all up to him now, whether he stays or he leaves. Whether he chooses to stay with the living or vanish with the dead. Whether he chooses a few splitting moments with Haechan, or live properly for years with Taeyong.

And the answer is clear.

It’s only been a day. A whole fucking day. But Mark steals Taeyong’s car as expected and rides out the first thing in the morning as if his life depends on it. And maybe it does, because Haechan is his life and he’s losing his light like a dying star.

And if Haechan turns into a black hole, Mark doesn’t mind being sucked out of his life to join him in an eternity of darkness. There’s no light without his sun anyway.

It takes four hours for Mark to drive back to the house he’s grown to love, and he’s already driving as fast as Haechan usually was. The sun shines rather warm on his skin, but he still shivers from the autumn breeze. His heart is thumping so loud in his own ears that everything else feels like a whisper.

“Haechan-ah!” Mark shouts the second he barges into the house—the place they both call home. Please still be here. Please be alive. And he runs from one corner to another, looking for the man who owns his heart, and he can feel his feet crumbling under his own weight when he notices the sight of him.

Haechan is standing in front of the stairs that lead to the basement, and there’s a little part of Mark that wonders perhaps he had been staying there to avoid the sun but he ignores it. He doesn’t care. Mark doesn’t give a fuck if his transformation is nearly complete because when Haechan looks at him, his mouth shaping his name, Mark is already running towards him before his entire mind can process.

Haechan lays still in Mark’s arms as he embraces him with all his strength. “I’m so glad you’re still here,” Mark says, slipping his fingers around Haechan’s ash grey strands that are browner than the first time he met him.

Haechan can hear Mark whispering his name over and over and he notices he’s crying, clutching to him as if he’s the rope that’s saving his life. “Mark…” Haechan buries his face in the crook of Mark’s neck which feels both familiar and distinct at the same time because Mark can no longer smell that honey-like scent Haechan usually has, he can no longer feel his warmth seeping through his clothes, he can no longer hear the playful whiny complains he usually makes.

But he’s still Haechan and that’s what matters.

“Why… did you come back…?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Mark answers, shaking his head frantically. “I couldn’t, Haechannie, I can’t leave you. I don’t care if all we have left is just minutes or even seconds, I just want to be with you.”

Haechan grabs the back of Mark’s shirt, making a sound between a sob and a choke and he probably wants to cry, but he can’t. His skin is rotting, his bodily function has stopped working, and he knows he looks unbearably disgusting but the way Mark holds on to him still makes him feel wanted. Makes him feel loved.

“Mark,” Haechan croaks, pulling away and Mark nearly breaks into tears again when he notices how much paler Haechan gets, even if they’re only separated for a day. The black veins are more prominent, painting his face and his skin like a horrifying tattoo and the lens of his eyes are completely white now,. “Mark, you have to kill me.”

“What—no—”

Haechan pushes the machete he’s been holding in one hand to Mark’s chest. “I’ve tried but I’m…” His cloudy eyes seem to scream in agony. “I’m too afraid… Please, Mark…”

“No, there’s no way—”

“Mark!” Haechan’s paper-thin voice suddenly booms through the air, sending shivers down Mark’s spine. “I can feel it. I’m losing myself and…” There’s this glow in his eyes that forces Mark to take a step back, his heart slamming against his ribcage. “I’m so hungry.”

And it’s not human food he craves, Mark knows that for sure.

It’s frightening, the way Haechan slightly bares his teeth at him, and every inch of his body screams for him to run but Mark plays deaf. “I’ll wait until it’s really over,” Mark promises him. “I’ll wait until you’re really gone. I’ll kill you when there’s no trace of you left.”

But Mark’s not sure whether he can keep his promise even at that point.

Haechan eventually agrees with a tired nod because they both know Mark is much more stubborn than he looks, and he begs him to tie him up so he wouldn’t be able to attack the second he loses control and Mark follows. Haechan sits on the floor with his back pressed against a huge pillar that supports the house and waits as Mark circles a rope around his waist a few times before he ends it with a knot.

“Is it too tight?” Mark asks, worriedly, and it’s so Mark to ask a half-transformed zombie that question so Haechan smiles weakly at him and answers, “Not tight enough, you idiot.”

Mark falls weak at the sight of Haechan’s smile that he loves so much and he leans in to kiss him but Haechan immediately brings his face away.

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, though he’s about to be consumed by the same desire, “You’ll get infected.”

But Mark cups both of his cheeks firmly with his hands, whispering, “I don’t care,” directly against his mouth, not caring about his icy cold skin, or the awful smell of his rotting flesh because underneath all of that, he’s still Haechan and he loves him. So painfully and earnestly so.

“I love you,” Mark whispers between kisses, “I love you. I’ve always been in love with you. Haechannie…”

And Haechan closes his eyes, he can no longer breathe in Mark’s scent like he used to a few days ago and it’s depressing, because Mark always smells like summer and Haechan loves summer. But within a few hours from now, there will only be the darkness that welcomes him like an old friend. And if he’s lucky, if Mark really has the heart to kill him, then he’ll be swallowed by that darkness and it’s okay, as long as he doesn’t bring Mark with him.

Because Mark deserves the light, even if that means taking his own.

And so they wait. They wait with their bodies seated side-by-side, with their fingers intertwined, with Haechan’s head falling on Mark’s shoulder. “Tell me more,” Haechan begs, his eyes heavy and the pain in the pit of his stomach—this craving of blood and human flesh—is maddening, growing and consuming him from the inside. “Tell me why you love me…”

And Mark does it with no hesitation because what he feels never changes. He still loves Haechan’s hair, loves his eyes, loves his voice, loves his touch, no matter how different they are now.

“And I love how you always say I’m a bad cook,” Mark chuckles softly, “but you always eat like it’s your last meal.”

“Because it… could’ve been…,” Haechan’s voice is weak and sore but there’s a tint of humor in his tone. “Your cooking was so bad… it could’ve killed me…”

And Mark laughs, airily and young, the way he always does and Haechan wants to cry because he most likely won’t be able to hear it soon.

“I love how we fight from time to time, with you pouting every time I win an argument,” Mark continues as he gently smiles to himself, “I love how brave you are, how you tend to not overthink stuff and just go with the moment. I wish I could live like you.”

Mark’s voice begins to break the more he speaks, hot tears forming in his eyes. “And I really,” he breathes out between soft sobs, “I really love hearing you sing. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard and I wish I could…” His entire shoulders begin to shake. “I wish I could hear you sing again, Haechannie…”

Haechan’s breathing becomes slower as his vision starts to fade away. Mark sounds like he’s talking from a distance, as if he’s murmuring underwater. And Haechan feels like he’s falling into a bottomless pit, a monster waiting underneath and suddenly he’s just…

Gone.

“Hae… chan…?”

Mark’s eyes grow wide as he feels Haechan’s teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, gnawing against his flesh before he peels it away with his fangs. Mark’s entire body jolts in pain, sending electricity down to his fingertips. He crawls away from Haechan by instinct, his blood splattering down his shirt and to the wooden floor below him.

Haechan’s eyes are entirely clouded in white, saliva mixed with Mark’s blood dripping from his mouth and he snarls, baring his teeth like a hungry wolf.

Mark tries to call his name but it’s no use. Haechan is something else. Something entirely different. And although the transformation process progresses little by little, once it’s complete, it still takes the air out of Mark’s lungs.

Haechan is struggling to break himself free, his fingers clawing the air, reaching for Mark with such desperation of a starving lion. Mark’s gun feels heavy on the back of his jeans, he knows what to do. He just doesn’t have the will to do it.

“Haechannie—it’s me—please, it’s Mark—”

Haechan roars, dark blood splattering from his mouth as he claws and claws with his legs kicking all over the place. The rope around his waist is the only thing holding him still, keeping them in a safe distance but Mark knows it won’t hold long.

Haechan is frighteningly strong.

Mark’s blood is gushing out of his wound, painting his arm red and warm and it’s starting to make him feel lightheaded. At this point, he realizes he’s going to die by Haechan’s hands or going to turn into the exact creature snarling in front of him now.

Mark hooks his finger around the trigger, aiming the gun at Haechan’s head and he feels like he’s on the verge of vomiting his entire organs.

How can I shoot him—

But he tries. He tries because he has promised the man he loved he would do it. He tries because the world does not deserve seeing Haechan like this. He does not want anyone to look at him and think about him simply as a mindless, flesh-eating zombie when Haechan was so, so much more than that. Haechan was sweet, he was kind though he did have his own mischievousness from time to time and he shone so bright, almost blinding every time Mark looked at him.

So he takes aim and he misses because his hand trembles at the last second. The bullet that sinks to the pillar behind him only makes the creature growls at him louder, and the rope begins to tear apart.

Mark still can’t shake the memory of Haechan’s face when he told him he loved him too, or simply the memory of him—of how he used to. But the monster that he is now is not him. Mark just has to convince himself that.

He’s running out of time.

He takes a closer step, close enough that he won’t be able to miss, and he takes in a deep breath, aiming at Haechan’s temple. He steadies his hand as best as he can before he closes his eyes, feeling hot tears running down his cheek and he whispers, “See you soon, Haechannie.” And he pulls the trigger.

The room quiets down in an instant where Mark can only hear his own frantic breathing, but he doesn’t stay still for long. Not looking at Haechan’s body, he quickly loads his gun with another bullet—his last one—and presses the tip against the side of his head. It feels hot, almost scalding his skin but he doesn’t let himself think. He doesn’t let himself breathe. He doesn’t let himself feel.

And with the click of his gun, he finally smiles.

We’re together now, Haechannie.

***

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