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mae-gi-writes · 3 years

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My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Synopsis:

You're dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending!

----

There was a lot of coughing, at first.

You weren't exactly sure why your throat scratched so badly that it burned like it was on fire, only downed a few cough drops with the hope that it'd go away after a few days. You told yourself that maybe if you waited it out long enough, it would go away by itself and you wouldn't spend nights lying in bed, practically curling in on yourself as you tried to keep the coughing to a minimum.

It didn't get better.

Of course, the first few times you'd cough into your sleeve, your close friend and classmate Changbin would ask you if you were sick -- with that disgruntled frown that only you could decipher as concern -- but you had merely shaken your head then before batting away his worries with a brush of your fingers.

It had escaped your notice, how your throat clamped up whenever he was close by, how you would suddenly erupt whenever he would play with your hair or brush some dust off your shoulder.

"Seriously Y/N, go see a doctor or something," he said one day after your Photograohy seminar where you had spent three quarters of it muffling your coughs. That had garnered you numerous dirty looks from your classmates, "maybe you're developing an allergy."

"It doesn't come all the time," you replied breathlessly while plastering a smile on your face.

He wasn't convinced.

And then, when you stumbled upon him in the cafeteria sitting across from a girl you'd seldom met before, that had been the last straw.

You had barely managed to make it to the toilet, hand cupped against your mouth and running like your life depended on it, stumbling into the nearest stall to empty the contents of your stomach.

Only, it wasn't.

You watched, horrified, as blood poured out of your mouth like a gushing waterfall filled with bits and pieces of broken branches, plant stems, petals. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it no matter how much you tried, chest heaving and breaths ragged as you gazed at the mess in the toilet bowl with the slow realization sinking into you.

Hanahaki.

You were dying. You were dying because plants were now growing into your heart, taking over your lungs and your body.

That was when you got a second realization:

That you were in love with Seo Changbin. And he was clearly in love with someone else.

------

"Long time no see.”

You jolted from your seat, head whipping up and partly expecting to see the said raven-haired man that you had been avoiding most week to be standing there with a scowl on his face. Instead, you were genuinely surprised to find one of his closest friends instead.

Chan looked down at you with furrowed brows and from the way his eyes skimmed over your features, you guessed he was seeing the side effects of the hanahaki just as much as you were, “jesus, Y/N. Are you sick or something?”

“Bad cold,” you faked a laugh, quickly scrambling to cover the book title currently spread open for him to see, but Chan hd quick reflexes, arm sneaking underneath yours to yank the said book out of your arms and ignoring your protests.

He read the title once, twice. Flipped a few pages, frown growing so deep on his face that his eyebrows were practically kissing at the centre, and you were about to make a joke out of it -- to make light of the situation -- when his eyes snapped back up to you. And what you saw in them caused all jokes to die upon your tongue.

“What is this, Y/N?”

You tried to ignore the shakiness in his alto, or the emotion blazing through his dark irises. Your chest hurt with that same familiar ache you had grown accustomed to over the days, causing you to look away as you murmured out your reply:

"What it says it is.”

It was useless to lie. Chan was sharp. There’d be no use lying to him.

He sucked in a breath and you quickly scrambled out, “don’t tell Changbin.”

Brown orbs boring into yours for a few seconds too long, you forced yourself to return his gaze with a pleading look of your own, and it seemed like he figured it out for himself for he merely dropped his eyes before looking away.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured, “It’s Changbin.”

Your head bowed. Your silence said everything. His breath hitched, grasping your shoulder so that you turned to face the wetness of his eyes as tears brimmed at the corners, “stop it. You can stop it right? There’s got to be a cure for that now.”

Oh, how it would be wonderful to believe there was even a cure. But the only solution was surgery and even that came with its risks. Plus, extracting the hanahaki from your heart meant to erase Changbin altogether from your life and as much as it killed you literally to be existing in this state every single day, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all the memories that you and Changbin had built together.

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t forceful in his argument when you pleaded that you felt more comfortable dealing with this alone. He did, however, constantly check up on you on days where you looked especially gaunt, when the pouches under your eyes were so blue he feared that they would swallow up your whole face, or when he noticed how you left your lunch untouched, opting to sip silently on your soy milk instead.

“Who is she?” You had asked once, your soprano barely above a raspy whisper, as your eyes trailed over Changbin’s figure leaning in towards what the girl was saying.

“Her name’s Yoreum,” Chan had mumbled through mouthfuls of his meat sandwich, “apparently she’s a transfer student from Japan, and very interested in Changbin.”

“Good for him, I guess,” you mumbled.

A minute later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, palm halting the trickle of blood from your lips.

You weren’t exactly certain how this disease worked. Was it due to your inner feelings? Or did it depend on Changbin’s? Or both? The books you read had told you endless tales of varying consequences and different situations, which didn’t help the matter in the least. In fact, it left you even more in the dark, if that was possible.

You knew that it would be impossible to avoid Seo Changbin forever for once he set his mind to something, it was a force not to be reckoned with. You had kept up a stream of excuses about being sickly and that it was exams season. But all your efforts were futile after a few weeks when you spotted the said man standing at the front of your apartment complex, tapping his feet to keep the coldness of spring at bay.

You had half a mind to run away, drop everything and just make a dash for it. But Changbin spotted you before you could do anything and he closed the gap between you two in less than three strides, quickly encapsulating you in a hug.

Your breath hitched. The itch was back, your throat tingling like crazy. You paused for a few seconds and allowed his scent to overwhelm you, before pushing him away to cough into your sleeve.

“Damn Y/N. Chan was right. You really are sick.”

"Wha--" you tried to force the itch down your throat, "are you doing--"

Your body jerked as you felt it give way to the pain that twisted your torso in two and you turned away just in time to clamp a hane over your mouth as you coughed like there was no tomorrow.

Warm liquid splattered over your palm. The metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils.

"Y/N," Changbin made a move towards you, "are you--"

Holding up a hand, you felt him halt as another round of coughs ripped through your already-dry throat. You didn't realize that your legs gave out at some point until a pair of hands quickly grasped the back of your elbows, and though you wished to push him away, pain rippled through your body as you all but collapsed to the floor, blood and branches and petals splattering onto the ground.

You didn't have to look at his face to know that his body was tensed in shock, frozen as he took in the sight before him. Scrambling for words, they all died at the back of your throat when you glanced over at his clenched jaw, the slow reality that blooms through his dark pupils.

Silence filled the air.

“What--” he choked up, “is this?”

You opened your mouth to answer, closed it when you couldn’t find anything. Before you, Changbin’s fists curled, clenching at his sides as he surveyed the mess of blood and dried up flowers.

"Tell me this is not what I think it is,” he whispered.

Still, you said nothing.

“Tell me!” He bellowed.

“Changbin, I--” another round of coughs made your body twist on itself as you struggled to answer him, maybe lie through your teeth even though it was too late, “I can explain--”

“Explain what?! That you’re dying?!” he swivelled around with barely restrained anger and that made you flinch back, “you kept this from me?! Why?! Tell me Y/N--”

But his shouts were drowned out by your endless coughing and heaving, leaning forward to choke out a few petals dripping with fresh blood onto the ground. Your mind was swirling with excuses, trying to come up with the stupidest reasons as to why your body was behaving this way and maybe telling him that it was all due to someone else who couldn’t love you back. But the more you tried to fight the urge to throw up, the more you kept on gagging on your own blood.

Arms came around your middle to lift you up, Changbin’s scent surrounding your figure as he managed to haul you to your feet and half-carry you inside your flat. It wasn’t until your body was laid down on the couch that you managed to utter out a soft “thank you”, which sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Changbin grunted, momentarily going out of your peripheral and returning with a sac plastic, in case you had anything more to cough out, which warmed your heart despite the cold harsh truth lingering before your very eyes. A truth that you knew had to be verbalized, sooner or later.

“Who is it?”

His question caught you off-guard. Glancing up, your throat constricted at the way he gazed back at you, eyes dark and glossy with emotion.

Dropping your head to the floor, you mumble out something incoherent. You wished he could drop it.

“Who is it?” he growled.

Your jaw clenched. There was no escaping him, nothing could salvage the situation. So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, before finally looking up at the raven-haired man sitting opposite you.

“It’s you.”

His anger dissolved into shock. He stared you down, mouth parted, for a few seconds.

When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “what?”

He was staring at you as if you had just grown out a second head. But as much as you felt like flinching away, you kept your eyes steady, even when they welled up with tears, even when they burned from the way you caught sight of his expression slowly crumbling as the realization sank into his bones.

“You’re joking,” he whispered mostly to himself as he shook his head, “no. It’s not--What? It can’t be me, unless--”

“I love you.”

His eyes snapped back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. The buzzing silence in the air twisted, thick with tension and from the remnants of your words that echoed in the distance between your bodies.

“But--” Changbin opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. His frown deepened and his silence conveyed the inner conflict going on through his brain as you sat there with your world crumbling apart, wishing that he didn’t leave you for the last few days of your existence.

You’d be gone all too soon. And then, and then life would go on. Changbin would go on. After all, he deserved to be loved by someone whom his heart desired.

“I love you,” you repeated, the words breaking against your parted lips and tearing at your heart with every shaky inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut before burying your face into one of the couch pillows in hopes that this moment would just disappear, in hopes that this was all a well-constructed nightmare.

It felt like an eternity before you heard the rough alto of Changbin’s voice. It was choked, like he was having a hard time keeping himself together and though you wished to do something to ease his pain, you also knew that if you took a look at him, you’d crumble in seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sentence echoed through your ears, pain tugging at your heartstrings with every second that passed.

Without looking at him, you answered in a whisper, “because it’s not your fault.”

"Not my fault?” His voice rose in anger, “not my fault? How is this not my fault? You love me, you’re dying because you love me. How--Fuck Y/N! How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?! I--”

“Please,” your broken soprano flies out between you like a needle that hits him straight in the heart, “please. Not now.”

If there was any reason why you hadn’t wanted to tell the said man straight up about the hanahaki was exactly for that reason; you loathed the idea of having Changbin beat himself up for the feelings that tormented your heart. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing the kind of person that he was, you were certain he’d feel guilty about not returning your feelings.

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Not just some half-hearted love. Not a love that got drawn out from pity. You didn’t want him to love you, if that meant that he lost himself in the process.

All you wanted, prayed for, was his happiness.

And that wasn’t you, as harsh as that was of a pill to swallow.

------

You woke up the next day to find Changbin still on the couch, sleeping where you had left him last evening to hide in your bedroom. When you’d gently lulled him out of sleep, he’d proceeded to make some breakfast while chatting about the most random things and quite frankly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It came to the point where you had snapped and asked what were his true intentions. To which he answered, as though it was the simplest solution:

“I’m spending some time with my best friend,” he’d glanced over at you from his breakfast plate filled with eggs and sausages, “isn’t that obvious?”

“But--”

“Y/N, you’re not the only one who cares about this relationship,” Changbin looked away, before looking back with tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, “if I can’t change my heart, then I’ll change the way I spend my time.”

You tried again, “I don’t want your pity--”

“Unless you want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life.”

“You’re..." you watched him, unsure of what exactly was going on inside that head of his. Sometimes, his logic didn’t add up.This was one of those times, “now you’re making me feel guilty.”

“Do you not want me around?”

It seemed that your condition might have shaken him up more than you initially thought. His presence had always been a constant and yet up until now, he’d been busier, schedules more packed with activities and socializing with his other course mates whenever he had blocks of free time. He’d lock himself in his studio alone whenever inspiration struck and though you had always respected his personal space, there was no denying that some part of you missed him deeply. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, knowing that it would merely be selfish of you to do so.

“That’s not what I--”

“Thought so,” and he got up from the table, signalling that the conversation was a case closed and dusted before directing himself towards the sink. You’d only dipped your head back towards your plate, trying hard not to let the heat colour your cheeks the way it always did whenever you found your best friend attractive. It had been getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reacting, and now that your feelings were out in the open, you hoped that Changbin would play along and ignore them altogether.

Now though, now was different. Changbin actively sought you out; in the library he’d bring you cappuccinos with almond milk and an extra coffee shot just as you liked before sitting down to ‘study’ opposite you, he’d call you up at the most random times to chill at your flat even if that meant basking in hours of comfortable silence while you worked side by side. He’d even drag you to the studio with him, adamant on making you listen through his countless tracks with excuses that he needed a second opinion.

"I have questionable taste. You of all people should know that,” you would argue whenever he’d fight to place the headphones over your ears. You let him though, enjoying the warmth of his figure whenever he leaned over yours to fiddle with the headset.

“Exactly why I want you to listen,” Changbin’s voice was muffled and yet, the way his breaths brushed against your ear caused your stomach to tingle.

You wished to believe that his attention was intentional, that it came to him as naturally as breathing. But you knew it wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d walk away from you, you had to rush to the nearest bathroom to cough up more and more flower stems ceremoniously.

And it was okay, really. It was bearable. You were happy enough to have him for a little while, even though you knew it would last up until the day you closed your eyes for the last time.

Once, he’d invited you over to make sushi -- he’d claimed beforehand that he was a good sushi roller and that this was just an excuse to flaunt his skills -- and he’d dragged you out to the supermarket with him, threatening that you wouldn’t be getting any of the salmon if you didn’t. So you’d reluctantly followed, complaining along the way as you trailed after him like a five-year-old child.

It was when you were in the middle of looking at the salmon that you were suddenly overtaken with that familiar burn in your throat. Doubling over and trying to breathe as evenly as possible, you turned away from the food display just in time to cough up blood in your palm.

Changbin was at your side in an instant, hands circling your middle while murmuring his concern in your ears while you tried forcing down the pain slowly brimming over your mouth. At this point, you hadn’t realized that your best friend had slid you into his arm while he’d yelled at everyone to get the fuck out of the way, not until you were met with the outside air and was suddenly slammed by a round of coughing that just wouldn’t stop.

You felt Changbin’s hands against your back, stroking soft circles as you coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood splattered over your clothes, on the ground, dribbled down your chin in a stream filled with flower petals and stems that grated against your lips.

The more you coughed, the more flowers appeared. You noticed tulips, roses, daisies as well now. Those were new, you thought bitterly as you heaved.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since, nor how you found yourself pressed against Changbin’s chest with your head tucked under his chin. He held you softly, tenderly, and you didn’t have the self-restraint to stop the silent tears from dribbling down your chin.

You loved him.

You didn’t want to die.

“That’s a pretty big bouquet you just made,” came his soft murmur in the shell of your ear, causing a faint smile to twitch at your lips. Indeed, the array of flowers littering the ground would’ve been nothing less of beautiful, if not for the large amount of blood that you had just lost.

“Changbin,” you breathed out weakly.

“Hm?”

"I’m...” your head lolled against his neck when you tried to look up at him but failed, “I’m sorry.”

His body stilled. Then, he said, “what for?”

“For taking away your time,” your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not. I spend my time however I want,” his hold tightened, “if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Still. You felt bad. You opened your mouth to apologize once more, only for him to beat you to it by pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't," he said, "apologize."

Fire had seeped from his finger to litter across your cheeks and you were glad that your face was hidden from view, for you were bound to be the colour of a fire engine, no doubt about that.

Later, when your heart had calmed and your throat had been soothed with hot chocolate, he'd pulled you out into the rooftop and proceeded to sit you down onto his jacket so that you could gaze out at the cityscape.

"Beautiful," you murmured and took a sip of your drink, allowing the warmth to spread through your limbs. Spring weather was ambiguous that way; sometimes cold, sometimes bearable.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

Changbin took a sip of his beer, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

"What do you mea--"

It dawned on you then. Oh.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

He angled his head towards you, "will you tell me?"

A smile graced your features, though you hoped he didn't notice how it didn't reach your eyes, "sure."

All you wanted though, all your yearned for, was for him.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

A little later during that same week, you had taken the chance to ask him about the girl he loved. He'd brought you over to the Han River to show you how to skateboard and as you sat in the grass admiring the sun setting over the horizon, you decided to buckle up the courage and blurt out what was haunting your mind for days on end.

"What's her name?"

"Huh?" Changbin had looked at you like you'd really gone crazy then, before you prompted him with, "the girl you like. What's her name?"

He tried not to squirm in embarrassment, and failed as he averted his eyes, "i don't like her," you heard him mumble under his breath, "I just think she's cute."

"Yeah yeah. What's her name?"

"Why should I tell you?" He threw you a scowl, "so that you can make fun of me?"

"It's one of the things on my list."

"What list?"

"List of things I want to do," you propped your chin into your hands and grinned teasingly, "and that's asking you about the girl you like."

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Yoreum."

"Wah, pretty name. What's she like?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?" You pouted, "I'll cheer you on even in spirit."

"Don't," he snapped back so suddenly, "talk like that."

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanour, you decided it was wiser to drop the subject altogether, lest it agitated him more. Changbin was known for his moody temperament but he'd been quite generous with you these past few weeks. Maybe because he knew that there was going to be an end. The thought caused another ache to reverberate through your chest and you looked away, not knowing on which foot to dance on for the rest of the night.

As you were walking back home, you felt his eyes constantly glance at the way you kept on blowing air into your hands, "you cold?"

"Huh? Oh no, I--"

Too late, for his hand reached out to engulf yours, bringing it over to stuff it in his jacket. You stared at him for a full minute as your heart skipped a beat. What...was that?

It was cold. That's why. He was just trying to be a gentleman, your brain kept on reasoning with you.

Your heart though, was saying otherwise. Maybe he likes you! Maybe he’s realized that--

You coughed. Once, twice. And then, you were falling to your knees as petals fell onto your shirt and dropped stained your clothes, your lap. Everything. Metallic rust engulfed your nose and you gratefully accepted the tissue that your best friend offered you.

“You good?” his breath brushed against your cheek, concerned orbs ablaze.

You wished you could get over him. You wished you could steer your heart away.

You nodded weakly, wiping away the remnants of blood and wishing that you could die right then and there from the embarrassment of being so openly weak and disgusting when he was around.

But he merely grabbed the tissue from your hold and proceeded to wipe away at the corner of your lips. Your heart tugged in your chest, relishing in his gentle touches as you allowed yourself to bask in his attention. Even for a little while.

There was no way you could forget Seo Changbin. Even if you tried.

-----

"How are you really?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing across your lips as you exited the library with Chan in tow, “you’re such a worry-wuss.”

“Hey, I’m asking out of concern,” Chan chides in that fatherly manner of his that always made you feel safe somehow, “I never see you around anymore because Changbin steals you away.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you reached out to ruffle his hair before he had the chance to duck away, “you’re still my secret favourite. But don’t tell Changbin that. Otherwise he’ll just sulk for days.”

“You make it sound so tempting,” Chan wriggles his brows in a teasing manner while you strode towards the parking lot. It was a late Friday evening and you had planned to meet up at the nearest Burger joint with Changbin and some of the other boys whom you hadn’t seen in a while and it was no surprise that you had decided to take advantage of Chan a your driver for the night.

“Who else is coming with us?”

“Changbin said he’d come but you know how he is,” Chan re-adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, “maybe we should call him if he doesn’t show up by the time we get to the car.”

Evidently, there was no sign of the said raven-haired man as you walked up to Chan’s red Mazda. That prompted you to call him, only to turn and spot his figure by the main flight of stairs with the girl you now knew as Yoreum.

You waited for that ache. For that burning sensation like alcohol was slipping down your throat, hands clenching around your phone.

The pain was there, you could feel it under your tongue.

But you didn’t cough. Nothing pushed at the back of your trachea.

You blinked, perplexed for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t Yoreum after all?

Or maybe Changbin was forcing himself to suppress his feelings. For your sake?

That wouldn’t make sense. Changbin had said so himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to be forcing himself into situations. That’s what you loved the most about him, after all.

You tried not to ponder over it too much during dinner, hand unconsciously going to your chest and feeling your heart slowly beating under your clothed chest. Weird, you couldn’t help thinking. Why?

Maybe you were dying. Maybe you were going to die.

Or maybe...just maybe, you were slowly moving on.

Impossible.

"So are you dating her or not?”

It was one of your friends-- Felix-- who brought you back to reality, blinking before realizing that the question was aimed at none other than the man whom had preoccupied your thoughts over the last hour.

Changbin leaned over, placing his elbows on the table as he sipped his beer, “we’re not dating.”

“I thought you liked her,” Minho pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this now?” you would’ve missed the way Changbin’s dark orbs flickered over to you if you hadn’t been paying attention. But you did, and that hurt a little bit more than you liked to admit. You loved him, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to know nothing of his personal life either.

Nevertheless, you decided that keeping your mouth shut would not hurt either, knowing that it might trigger some more coughing on your part. Nobody knew after all, that you were slowly being eaten away by plants growing in-between your lungs.

More oftentimes than not, Chan would urge you to go see a doctor, “just to see what the condition’s like,” he’d press you constantly, “you never know. Maybe it's getting better. Maybe you're getting better."

"There's only one explanation for that, Chan. And that would be that Changbin doesn't love Yoreum anymore," you smiled faintly, "and we both know that's not true."

Still, you couldn't help hoping that your condition was a sign that maybe you still had a chance at life. Part of you was curious as to whether there had been a change in Changbin's heart -- maybe even in yours -- but there was no denying the fact that it would be misplaced, especially in the context.

As you found yourself spending more and more time in Changbin's presence, you couldn't help but wonder whether he was pushing Yoreum aside just to accomodate you, and that thought was enough to make you feel guilty.

"Why don't you invite her?" You asked aloud once, when Changbin dragged you along for some bubble tea in the late hours of the evening.

He’d stared at you silently for a solid minute.

"Why would I do that?"

His question threw you off. You shot him a look as the said shop came into view, "isn't it obvious?"

"No."

You stopped in mid-walk, scowled at him, "I don't want you compromising your time."

"I'm not."

"But don't you want to spend time with her?"

At this point, his expression had morphed from confusion to infuriation and if you didn't know better, you'd say he was getting agitated.

He looked away, "I want to spend time with you."

Your heart stuttered, breath suddenly catching in your throat at his blunt statement. You hadn't expected him to be so forward about it, albeit the fact that he was merely speaking in terms of friendship. So you decided to drop the subject for now and kept on pondering it over in your head as you laid to rest that night. Knowing him, those set of words probably didn’t mean much. To you though? It meant everything.

You tried not to let your heart get ahead of yourself.

When it got warm enough, it was Changbin’s idea to drive you up to the coast when you had mentioned that you enjoyed listening to the sound of the ocean waves after a long, hard week. Especially after a long, hard week. It was no surprise that you were touched at his gesture, yet finding it bittersweet how he wasn’t exactly yours to lose even when he was right here, by your side.

There was something nostalgic about knowing that your days were counted, and while you had been feeling a little bit better these past few days, your questions had been answered by the internet; that this was just the calm before the storm.

In other words, there was more chance of you dying than living through that rare disease.

“Say Changbin,” you spoke aloud when you descended from the car, a pack of beer tucked under your arm and a bag of snacks in his while making your way towards the golden beach glimmering in the afternoon sun.

“Hm?” you felt his dark orbs on your face.

You kept looking forward, feeling the sand slip through toes in bliss, “thank you,” you murmured, “for doing this.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, replied, “don’t thank me. You make yourself sound like a charity case.”

Isn’t that what I am? You couldn’t help but think to yourself with bitterness. Settling over a comfortable spot and curling your knees up to your chest, you gratefully accepted the cold beer that Changbin handed to you -- after he’d cracked it open like the gentleman that he was -- and let out a soft breath, eyes finding solace in the waves lapping up the shore.

“How’s your coughing?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s actually not bad,” you started tracing circles with the tip of your index finger in the sand, the roughness of particles slightly stinging your skin, “I haven’t had a bad spell since that supermarket incident.”

He hummed in response, took a sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything in response. The comfortable silence washed over you and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of the sun prickling at your skin, at the scent of salt in the air with every wave that brushed forward with the current.

This was the place to be. For a quiet, waking moment, you could imagine that your life was endless. That you’d live till the very end, die old and wrinkly and with a full stomach.

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your beer bottle. If only.

If only.

“I know why,” Changbin suddenly blurted out.

Your head swivelled towards him, eyebrow raised, “huh?”

“I know why,” he hesitated, “why you’re not coughing as much anymore.”

Something stirred in your chest as you stared him down, cogs already turning in your brain. What was he getting at?

“I--” was it your imagination or were his cheeks redder than they had been a few minutes ago? You kept on staring him down as he struggled to find the right words, stumbled over them with the clumsiness of a five year old, “I--I realized something. Ever since.”

“Ever since?”

“Ever since you told me you loved me.”

If he was blushing, then you had flushed the colour of a fire engine. God, why did he have to put it so bluntly?

“What--”You swallowed thickly while turning away to gulp down some beer, if not to cool yourself down, “what did you realize?”

And that was when you felt the warmth of his fingers ghost over your chin. He cupped it in his hold, turning your face over so that you had no choice but to clash eyes as he slowly traced over your features with a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. That only caused your confusion to grow by tenfold.

“What?” You spluttered out, not really used to the closeness of his mouth that was hovering dangerously close. You hadn’t realized that his other hand had trailed down to your side until you felt him pull you a little closer, making your breath hitch slightly.

“Cha--Changbin? What--What are you doing?” You all but squeaked out. This was unknown territory. This was Changbin, and he...

He loved someone else.

So why was he cradling you in his hold as though you were the finest piece of silk that he feared would tear apart with the slightest brusque gesture?

And why, oh why was his orbs swimming with that unidentifiable emotion that made your stomach churn and butterflies to erupt through your middle and tickle at your abdomen? Why was he looking at you like that? Why?

Your questions were soon interrupted by the sensation of his mouth on yours.

It was warm, and soft, and tentative, and no sooner did you blink that it was over, leaving you to gape at him like a stupid fish out of the water. Changbin, meanwhile, kept on gazing at you, as if gauging your reaction.

The only thing that managed to make it out of your lips was, “What?”

He allowed his lips to respond in his stead. He kissed your next breath away. And the next. And the next. Until your heart almost leaped out of your chest, until your body felt like it was tingling with electricity all over and until you couldn’t help but kiss back slightly, jumping as he let out a soft noise of approval.

When you pulled apart for air, his dark pupils kept on darting back and forth between your eyes and your open mouth and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was resisting the urge to kiss you once more.

“Changbin?” you whispered, “please tell me...” tears started brimming through your eyes, “please tell me this isn’t...just because--”

“No,” he looked horrified, “no, no Y/N. Of course not--”

“Then why are you doing this?” you were slowly pulling out of his grasp, reality crashing through you like waves, “why are you giving me hope when--when you love someone else--”

“But that’s it, Y/N,” Changbin’s hands scrambled to find yours, “I don’t love anyone else. I--I thought I did. Maybe I did, because you wouldn’t have coughed so much if not. But then--Things changed, I don’t know. When you told me you were dying, it--it scared me. It scared me so fucking much, Y/N,” emotion clogged up his throat, eyes turning just as wet as yours. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Changbin without his walls up, “I didn’t--I don’t want to lose you. I tricked myself into believing I was into someone else. But when that--that happened, I--” he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing himself to forget the pain etched into memory, “I realized I was just trying to run away from what I really wanted, all along.”

He brought your hands up slowly to his lips before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon your knuckles, “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, “I never wanted to hurt you. Seeing you, so much blood. There was so much blood every time you--”

He couldn’t help but burst into soft, broken sobs and your heart broke to watch him struggle to catch a hold of himself. Arms winding around him to pull him into your embrace, your hands went to stroke the back fo his head as the man in your arms cried like you’d never seen him cry before. It was a scene that literally tore your heart out and wrenched it sideways; to see Changbin in so much pain that he’d had to hold in whenever he was by your side and seeing you hurt. It pained you, it hurt you. So much so that tears silently cascaded down your cheeks, pressing yourself a little closer to him for comfort.

He calmed down after a while, slowly relaxing into your hold so that you were the one holding him close to your chest as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The day was long gone, replaced by the evening hues of deep blue mixing in with vivid purple where the sun met the darkening sky, and though there was a slight chill in the air, Changbin’s strong arms looped around your waist did the trick to keep you warm.

“Don’t leave.”

He called out your name and you hummed in response, awaiting for his next set of words while playing with his hair. The reality of the situation had slowly sunk onto your shoulders when you’d held him in your arms; that he loved you, loved you enough that you had stopped coughing altogether.

His voice was laced with so much raw pain that your throat clogged up with emotion.

“I won’t,” you murmured back, knowing that deep in your heart, you’d try your best to keep pushing forward, to keep loving him.

“Promise me,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, the action causing your heart to flutter. Then, lifting himself up so that he was hovering above you once more, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight bathed the planes of his face. He looked softer, more ethereal in that light.

Your fingers went up, cradling his cheek in your palm, “I promise.”

And then he kissed you some more; a silent promise, a reassurance, a way to prove to you that he loved you just as much as you loved him, a way to show you that his heart only beat when you were around.

His heart would beat for you, just like yours did.

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 years

Text

Inspired by this post from @royalcalum

CW: Some slight 18+ Content! Like smut adjacent!

______________________

You’re just browsing--mindless scrolling as you wait for dinner to be done. It’s Calum’s turn, though it’s really your turn to cook but he insisted since his mother sent a recipe. He wanted to be the one to try it, since it was a family recipe. You offered your help, but ultimately you got the boot. So you stretched out across the sofa and scrolled.

You browse for clothes, ran across random ads and things targeted at you on Instagram but that got tiring and not stimulating enough. You went to Twitter until you found yourself bored of the mindless chatter. And around you went app to app until running across a particular video. It wasn’t necessarily rare for any sort of fan content about the guys to cross your feed, but it wasn’t common. You tended to stay away from that world, knowing inevitably you’d run across something unkind.

This in particular, with no sound on, blinks through various photos of Calum--the first half when he was younger the second half of him recently. Curiosity tickles you and you tap on the video for it to unmute at the end of its loop. When it starts it’s a cute and clearly dubbed version of E Girls are Ruining my life, but right as the bass kicks in Corpse’s voice rattles through your headphones.

Your first reaction: laughter. You giggle to yourself watching it loop back through a third time with sound. You laugh because you’ve seen the meme format before, at least you think you have. But you don’t miss the small twinge of arousal when the bass drops again and the more recent videos of Calum cycle through.

Tapping at your screen, you find the share via Messages and type in Calum’s name before his contact pops up. Don’t ask questions; just watch. A string of the fire emoji and the red face with the tongue sticking out follows the text. You tap send and then wait from the couch, pulling out one headphone. A couple beats later you hear the ding of Calum’s phone. The sound plays from the kitchen, the soft voice followed by Corpse’s deep vocals. Above it though, Calum howls in laughter. You snicker at his laughter and watch him peek his head out of the kitchen. “What is this?” he laughs.

You shrug. “I don’t know, babe. But all I know is it’s accurate.”

“Keeping this in mind for later,” he returns. “I can’t burn this sauce.”

“Please don’t burn the sauce!” you exclaim, a faux Southern accent falling from your throat. “Oh me, oh my, whatever shall I do if you burn that sauce.”

In your jest, you close your eyes, the back of your hand pressed to your forehead and your head thrown back. A warm hand wraps around your throat--no real pressure, just cupping your throat. Following it is a soft and short kiss. You’re almost not sure it’s even a kiss either, hardly any time to consider if it was a kiss to be honest before the hand leaves.

You blink your eyes open and spy Calum half heartedly jogging back into the kitchen. You curse the Hanes tank and sweatpants he’s wearing before he completely disappears from your sight. “Or you can burn the sauce,” you whisper, capturing the side of your lip under your teeth.

#yes I wrote this is ten minutes #anywhoosies #calum hood #Calum Hood blurb #Calum Hood imagine #Calum Hood fanfic #Calum Hood fic #5sos #h writes #5 seconds of summer #Calum Hood x reader #Calum Hood x reader insert #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer fanfic

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punksarahreese · 3 years

Note

night for rehearsal pls 🥺💗

Night | Rehearsal

Theatre!AU; a look into a normal night in the drama club

Prompt: Night

Word count: 1668

***

“Robin!” her name echoed across the auditorium as a familiar blonde bounced over, damp hair escaping from its haphazardly tied scrunchy. She was still in her swim suit too, the spandex peeking out from her open sweater and tucked into her school sweats. She had obviously been in a hurry to leave, which made sense when Robin looked behind her.

“Hey, Sam,” she nodded at the boy who was trailing after her, looking amusing, “Connor, you’re late.”

“So is Sam,” he furrowed his eyebrows at the teasing remark, “It's not my fault I had to drive down to the pool to pick someone up because she missed the bus.”

“I had practice!” Sam argued as she dropped her gym bag on the stage, it's familiar cross-stitch motifs making Robin smile. She had gotten her best friend a new duffel bag for Christmas that year, since her old one was falling apart from years of damp swimsuits and piles of theatre costumes. She had taken the time to stitch little things into the black fabric, including little bees and flowers that she thought would make Sam smile. It had and it never ceased to make Robin happy too when she saw how practical yet meaningful her gift had turned out to be.

“Still,” Robin nudged Connor’s shoulder, “Now we know why I’m the president of the club and you two aren’t.”

“We are literally co-presidents, Ro,” Connor’s reminder made her laugh; as if he would ever let her forget that. They had helped rebuild the dying drama club in their first year of high school, bringing in more students and assisting their teacher with planning and fundraisers. Sam joined along the way, quickly becoming their friend with her headstrong disposition and bold ideas. It had always been the three of them, for years, and now that they were in senior year everything had started to feel a bit bittersweet.

Robin tried to not let it get to her, though, because graduation wouldn’t tear them apart. Her and Connor had the same dream, Broadway, and they had made a pact years ago to hold each other to it. Every audition, every show, and even every mess up and meltdown was done with the other there to support and help. Even when things got hard they were in it together, no way would one bad audition or anything ruin their chances at the best schools or roles.

Sam was there for fun, mostly. She was a good actress, easily immersed into any role she was given and ready to take the lead in activities. She was an athlete first and foremost, though, and that hadn’t changed much. She had her dreams set on olympic coaching since the beginning, yet joined the drama club because their counselor thought it would help her with team building. It did, for sure, and while Sam never changed her mind on her dream profession, she had made a lot of friends and found a certain love for musicals along the way.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” Sam asked once they all settled down a little, taking a seat beside her on the stage. Robin glanced at the clock across the room, noting that it was almost half-past six. She had stayed after school to run lines by herself and get a head start on some set design. The second semester had just begun and that meant the spring arts showcase was fast approaching, which meant the drama club was scrambling to start preparations for a show. Auditions had taken place only the week prior, which had Robin practicing painstakingly so she could secure the main role. It was, after all, her last year in the club; she ought to make a lasting impact.

“Rehearsal, on book still,” she replied, fidgeting with the worn corner of her script book. She had a lot of nervous energy fizzling beneath her confident exterior and unfortunately she wasn’t all too good at hiding it. Not from her friends, anyway, because Connor’s hand reached out to cease her worrying of the book’s fragile pages almost as quickly as they started.

“It’s only the second week,” he reminded her, “Of course we’re still on book. We’ll have it memorized soon enough, Robin, be patient.”

“I know.”

“We’re already ahead of schedule with costuming and props,” the blonde across from them added cheerfully, “Plus we can come in during lunch hour and get things done if we really wanted. I’m sure I could rope some of the freshman into helping paint and stuff.”

“And by that you mean bribe the kids into doing the grunt work.”

Faking a gasp, Sam glared at Connor a little, “How dare you accuse me of such manipulation.”

“Dramatic,” he stage-whispered to Robin, who was shaking her head at the whole thing. The two never stopped bickering but it was how they showed affection, even if they did butt heads sometimes. Between the three of them there was a lot of attitude and maybe a little too much ego in the room, if Robin was to be honest, so this was commonplace. It was all in good fun, though, and they had never actually had a proper falling out despite the lighthearted arguing.

“That’s kind of the point, Rhodes.”

Before any more non-club related dramatics could be had, their teacher walked into the auditorium. Tanya Hanes was a rather eccentric woman, with a never ending supply of anecdotes and interesting fashion choices, though Robin assumed that kind of came with the job description. What was a little odd, though, was the girl trailing behind Ms. Hanes.

She was only vaguely familiar to Robin, probably from one of her AP classes if she had to guess. The girl had her dark blonde hair in a meticulous half ponytail, leaving her sharp features unshadowed. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone, instead looking around the auditorium as if she was searching for anything to keep her occupied. Her beat-up red converse squeaked against the ugly tile floor as she stumbled a little over an extension cord, muttering something as she regained her balance.

“Everyone,” Ms. Hanes’ voice echoed through the large room, bringing everyone’s attention to her down near the front of the stage. She waited a few moments for the younger students to calm down from whatever they were messing with in the props area, waving them over until she deemed it quiet enough to continue.

“We have a new student joining us for this semester,” Ms. Hanes explained as she gestured to the blonde behind her, “She will be here to assist with any technical or set related work, as well as line prompting and costuming.”

There was a chorus of welcomes and hellos, Robin noticing the way the girl relaxed a bit at that. She was glad the drama club were relatively friendly people, since the comforting atmosphere managed to make new kids feel at ease.

“Care to introduce yourself, dear?”

“Uh… yeah. Ava Bekker,” her voice was lower than expected, laced with a pretty accent that seemed to catch everyone’s interest, “Nice to meet you all, I guess.”

“Robin, Connor, since you two are our presidents would you mind helping Ava become acquainted and set up with some jobs?”

“Hey! Don’t forget me,” Sam put on a little pout, obviously in the mood to joke around. She never wanted a leadership position in the club, since she already had that in her sports and didn’t want to take away from her best friends’ thing. Still, she liked to be included, though it was just assumed she would do whatever Robin and Connor did anyway.

“Of course, Samantha,” the teacher laughed, “But don’t terrorize her, now.”

Scrunching her nose at the use of her full name, Sam just nodded, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

After letting people know they would start practice as soon as their presidents got things sorted, Ms. Hanes went off to talk to some students. Taking that as their cue to go properly greet the new girl, Sam was the first to hop off the stage to meet Ava near the stairs. The blonde looked a little startled at her energy but offered her a polite smile regardless, holding out her hand to shake.

“Call me Sam,” she said happily, “Welcome to Hell.”

“Sammy,” Robin sighed and lightly hit her shoulder as she came up behind her, “Don’t do that.”

“I’m only teasing, Ro,” Sam replied coolly, “Newbie, meet the Queen of Hell herself.”

“Please,” Robin’s incredulous look only made her laugh, which had her best friend sighing yet again. She turned her attention to Ava, relieved to see that the other girl only looked amused at the antics.

“I’m Robin,” she said with a smile she hoped was reassuring, “I promise Sam will calm down once she stops showing off.”

“I don’t mind, at least one of us has the energy,” Ava replied, though her tone was a little guarded. She was nervous, that was obvious, and the other girl just hoped she would become more comfortable once she got acquainted with everyone. She still offered Robin a handshake too, which was an amusingly formal gesture for students around there.

“Well, I can show you backstage and get you set up with a script and some jobs to do, if you’d like.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Ava nodded and the smile she gave Robin just about melted her heart. It was the first genuine look the blonde had had since coming into the auditorium and it was sweeter than that ridiculous starbucks drink Connor was always carrying around. She was just as pretty as her smile, that was glaringly obvious, and Robin would be a fool to say otherwise. Not one to be shy very often, she recovered quickly and had no qualms about offering her hand to Ava, a smile of her own settling on her face when the other girl took it cautiously.

“C’mon then, Ava,” Robin replied as she tried to ignore Sam’s pointed look she saw in her peripheral, “I’ll introduce you to some people first.”

#this went in a completely different direction than intended #Ava is still Bitter about this whole situation #but she’s also nervous 🥺#and Robin just wants people to be comfy!#what happens when she learns why Ava is really there though? 👀🤭#ava bekker #robin charles #chekker #sam zanetti #connor rhodes #rehearsal #theatre!au #my aus #asks #mutuals #Nova tag #cj add this to your fic masterpost

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shereadsandwritesformelanin · 4 years

Text

The Baker And Her Actor: part III [The Beach Date!]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem! Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest, neither can you.

Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff.

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy! If you have any requests feel free to share those!!

Previous Part(s) → (1) (2)

“Baby it’s you!”

“You’re the one I love.”

“You’re the one I need!”

“You’re the only one I see!”

“Come in baby it’s you!”

You prance around your kitchen singing your heart out to Beyoncé’s love on top. The past few days you and Chris had been communicating frequently.

It made you feel some type of way and put you in a chipper mood.

Since you had a day off you decided to treat yourself to a nice warm stack of pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, and crispy (vegan) bacon.

A perfect way to start a weekend morning.

Flipping the last pancake and plating it you shuffled over to your living room, Haneli hot in persuit.

Today was a relaxation day, and you wanted to watch some quality movies.

Over the past few days of your texting spell with Chris he never much mentioned his work. I mean here and there he brought up but we barley discussed it as if he wasn’t proud.

So this morning you were gonna dedicate this to watching one of his many projects.

“Chris Evans.” You command into your remote.

Error.

“Chris Evans!” You shout

The screen showed many of his different films, all looked absolutely amazing but one stood out amoung them all.

The one where he held a little blonde girl on his shoulder and had a similar scruff on his face.

Gifted.

If the title didn’t grab you the plot definitely did.

“Play gifted.”

“Playing gifted.” Your smart television obeyed.

Just when you were going to trade it in.

You were just now finishing the movie and you were blown away.

You never thought about how much went into being an actor. Being able to convey those emotions onto the screen allowing the audience to feel them. Chris, he did just that.

Should you text him?

You decide to make the first move. Picking up your phone you click his contact, and begin typing.

Y/n: Goodmorning, I just saw one of your films. It was amazing :).

The Captain: Really, which one? Also goodmorning to you too!

Y/n: Gifted, and of course you’re amazing!

The Captain: Dont make me ink y/n. 💙

Another adorable Disney reference.

Before you could respond, your phone began to ring the contact image of Chris popping up on your screen.

Why was he calling you?!

I mean of course you all had text, but text can be motified unlike phone conversations.

Just answer dumb ass!

“Hello.” You sqeak

“Good morning.” Chris gumbles, it was obvious he’d just woken up by the rasp in his voice.

“H-how are you?” You stammer

“I’m okay just a bit tired.’ He yawns “better now that you’re on the phone.”

You were silence. Butting youre upper lip not sure what to say next.

His flirt game was strong and always caught you off gaurd.

“You there?” Chris questions

“Yes I’m here, sorry. I don’t want to keep you if your sleepy.”

“No it’s okay- I actually wanted to ask you something.” Chris reassures

“What is it?” You muse.

“Will you go on a date with me?’ Maybe tomorrow evening, if that works for you.” Chris queried.

You could have sworn your heart skipped a beat. This was the moment you’d been waiting for but was so terrified of its arrival.

When was the last time you even went on a date?

“Y/n, your making me nervous.”

“Sorry, i’d love to.” You trilled

“Great, pick your up at 7 tomorrow.!” Chris elated.

You could hear his pure excitement through the phone.

Youem were excited but nun the less nervous.

Shit what am I going to wear?

Saturday Evening - A.K.A “Date Night”

“Okay so you got this dress and I’m thinking we need to ensintuate your shoulders and colleebones as much as possible.” Kiara explains.

She rushes through Pinterest to find hair inspiration. Some your like some you aren’t quite fond of. You wanted to look your best for him.

“What about this one?” Kiara inquires showing you a beautiful and delicate up-do.

You take her phone to get a better look, zooming in on all the intricate details of the style. “I love it! It definitely screams first date vibes, should I even call it a date or a hang out.” You mumble.

“Girl gets some confidence.’ Kiara lectures. “He asked you on a date because you’re hot and his intrested take it with pride, he’ll love you, and if he doesn’t I do.” Planting a firm kiss on your temple.

“Thanks.” You coo.

Kiara begins to fumble in your hair, pinning it up and fluffing it’s often. “So where is he taking you?’ She quipped. “Somewhere nice I hope.”

“Well he hasn’t exactly told me.”

You feel her stop fiddling around in your hair. “So you don’t know?”

You nod your head.

“Hm, a man of mystery,That should be fun.” Kiara mused.

Shifting weight in your seat from the pressure of sitting for a while, your breath out. “I hope so.”

“Let’s find you something sexy to wear.” Kiara offered.

You both decide on a emerald green slip dress and a gold layered necklace, topping it off with a casual leather jacket.

“You look amazing girl, I need a picture.” Kiara praises.

You twirl around posing dramatically with various poses. Kiara snaps pictures hyping you up with each pose you perform.

“Come look at these.” Kiara hypes

Damn you do look good.

“Can you send these to me?”

Kiara nods her head.

Just when you were slipping on your shoes the doorbell rings. Your clock reads 7 o’clock.

Prompt.

You hurry toward the hallway mirror you had hanging on the wall, giving your hair one last fluff before opening the door.

The door swings open and there he was in all his glory.

He looked ravishing.

He wore a silver chain necklace, a black knitted sweater paired with heather grey saude pants and carmel shoes.

He held a bouquet of beautiful flower. Assortments of different pinks, red, and whites.

So he listens.

“Wow, you look stunning.” Chris praises

“You as well.’ I can take those, at least I hope they’re for me.” You giggle

“Oh yes, of course. Can I Uh set them up for you?” Chris ask rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes.”

You open up the doorway even more allowing him in. Guiding him toward your kitchen. A short trip considering you live in a small loft.

“Vases are up top.” You instruct

Chris nods, reaching up to grab one of your many vases.

When he stretched up his shirt untucked revealing a lower back tattoo.

God this man has tattoos as well.

You couldn’t help but stare not only was it intresting but it was really hot as well.

Chris peaks his head over his shoulder catching your gaze in his peripheral.

Shit.

“See something you like?” Chris teases a cocky smirk painted on his face.

You drop your head biting your bottom lip. You’d been caught and the man sure knows how to make you nervous.

I was starting to believe he did that on purpose.

Suddenly you notice Kiara hiding behind the slight wall that separated the kitchen and the living space.

“What are you doing?!” You mouth.

She smirks. Then begins to suggestively dry hump the air and make satisfied faces. “Introduce me.” She mouths back

You roll you eyes giving in, motioning for her to come over.

She smiles in victory, brushing down her outfit quickly.

“So y/n before you leave- oh I’m sorry I didn’t know you were here.” Kiara lies

From anyone who didn’t know who the actors was in the room, they’d think it was Kiara how well she put on an act.

You stare at her hoping she didn’t go overboard.

“Oh erm, hello.” Chris greeted

“We were just living, Kiki I love you and I see you later!”

You hoped Chris got the message, luckily he did.

He quickly dried his hands, shooting a small smile and wave to Kiara then followed you out your home.

“Which one your?” You ponder.

Beep beep.“That one.”

You watched the interior light of a black mid size audi light up.

Sometime you forget he’s rich. He definitely didn’t like to show, one of the many things you like about him.

“Shall we?” Chris says his arm out for you to interlopp.

You smile up at him gripping his arm, feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks.

The car ride was anything but queit. The two of you laughed and told embarrassing stories of your childhoods.

“Wait so you actually peed on a guy in your class in sixth grade?”

“True story, I couldn’t hold it!” You retort giggling

“Wow you beat me.’Chris says. “we are almost there it’s just up this way, one of my favorite things to do.”

“So I get to go to a special place?”

“Must mean something, right.” Chris stated, giving you those damn eyes again.

The way he stared at you with so much sencerity made you crave him even more. He was passionate you could tell.

“Okay no peaking.” Chris instructs pilling you out of the car shutting the door after you.

“Okay.” You obeyed.

Chris walked you through a seemingly long and tangled path. His big hands covering your ears the whole time.

Eventually he stopped guiding you and removed his hands.

“Is it safe to open?” You asked softly

“Yes you can open now, even though definitely saw you peaking.” Chris teased

“I was not!” You bicker like a child

Finally you allow your eyes to flutter open. Immediately your jaw drops at what you saw before you.

It was the Boston harborwalk, but lit up. The place looked so alive.

There was everything. Fun games, food, and even a Ferris wheel.

“Chris this is amazing.’ You gasp in excitement. “It’s- it’s beautiful I - can we go now!”

“I figured you’d love it, and yes let’s get going.” Chris spoke holding his hand out for your reach.

You comply shyly intertwining you tiny fingers with his. The heat rising to your cheeks, and the butterflies bubbling in your pit again.

You finally reach the boardwalk. Enamored by all the lights and fun that surrounds you can’t help but bounce from booth to booth like a young child on Christmas Day.

“Slow down dont wanna have to put a lease on you.” Chris pesteres

You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand.

God he was muscular and firm.

Nope not going there y/n stop.

“Oh hush, this is fun!’ You piped. “What should we do next?”

“I was thinking the Ferris wheel?” Chris suggested.

Chris’s Point Of View:

The night wasn’t even close together and it was already going so well.

Y/n was perfect, practically an angel.

I could tell she was breaking out shell, showing more of her personality she’d been so afraid to show me.

It was great. I loved how excited she got about the smallest things, how she was a good sport and didn’t fuss over loosing games.

Through all my relationships I’ve craved to have someone like y/n and here she was and she was so great.

Gosh get a grip meatball can’t be falling in love on date one.

Finally we get up to the top of the Ferris wheel, stopping so we could get a great view of Boston.

I watched as you leaned over on the side just enough not to tip over but to get a good view.

How your y/c eyes lit up just like the city below us, the curls that rested on your forehead dancing in the wind.

Perfect.

I pull out my phone opening the camera settings.

I snap a quick photo of you. You just looked so peaceful.

Shit my flash!

My eyes go wide, embarrassed that I’d just been acting like a certified creep ten seconds ago.

She turns to face me comfusion readable on her face.

“Um y/n I’m sorry I- I just thought you looked beautiful.” I stammered.

She slips her tiny hand into mine giving me a small smile.

“Can I at least see it.” She asks

We leave the carnvial to go to another beautiful location I wanted to show y/n.

This could quite literally brighten her night.

“It’s just this way.” I instruct holding her hand helping her down the pathway to the beach.

“Are you taking me somewhere to kill me.” She jokes

“Sweetheart if I wanted to kill you, it would have already been done.”

I hear her let out small chuckle underneath her breath.

She trusted me.

“We’re here.” I announce

Her eyebrows raise as she looks around observing nothing but a bland beach.“We’re where?” She ponders

I pick up a small rock tossing it in my hand. “Okay now you’re scaring me.” She says slowly backing away.

“Don’t be.”

With that I threw the rock down on the sand allowing the bioluminescent plankton to give off their blue hue.

I hear the fimaliar gasp escape y/n’s lips as she’d done all night in excitement.

“Chris! What is this?”she quipped

“Bioluminescent planktons, I discovered these a while back when I was having a not good day and needed a walk. Cheered me up immediately.” I explain

Walking toward my side her eyes never leave the ground. “Wow this is astonishing.” She states

“You wanna see something else?” I ask a devient smirk planted on my face.

“You’re just full of surprises.”

“You have no idea.” I returned.

I grab her hand leading her over to the shoreline. “Take off your shoes.” I instruct

She does just that waiting for further instruction.

“You see this.” I say pointing down to the water.

“See what?”

“This!” I smirk lightly splashing her with water

Please be into it.

I watched as she stood there for a moment, mouth agape wiping the salt water off her face.

My heartbeat sped up hoping she wouldn’t curse me out and storm off.

“Oh really that’s what you wanna do?” She said smirking peeling her leather jacket off.

“Yeah that’s what I wanna do.” I mock rolling my arm and pants legs up.

“Fine but I was I raised off avatar and have a strong belief I’m a waterbender.” She jokes

Finally she splashes me immediately damping my sweater.

I’m impressed that she was able to get the much water on my with her small hands.

I attempt to return the favor but she runs away giggling.

I chase after her effortlessly catching up, scooping her in my arms bridle style.

“Stop, stop I’m sorry put me down.” She stammers laughing loudly.

“Nope only soaking you will do for forgiveness.” I say carrying her to the spot with our belongings.

“But Chris I just had wash day.” She pouts

“Wash day?” I question.

“You’re too cute, and caucasian.” She replied

“Cute huh?” I tease.

There she goes again hanging her head low and avoiding eye contact, she was so adorable.

“You know what I want.” I stays breaking the silence

“What’s that?”

“Ice cream.” I say

Finally we pull up at an ice cream parlor that looks like it was plucked straight out of the fifties.

I notice you began to shiver. It was late at night and the cool Boston breeze was now turning into a chilling freeze.

Should I do it? Will she be comfortable?

Making sure not to startle her, I cautiously wrap my arm around her shoulders pulling her into me, hopping to add some type of warmth to her body.

She just smiles up at me leaning her head into my shoulder. She fit into my side like a puzzle. I let the tropical sent of her hair infuse my lungs.

God she smelt great.

We get up to the glass display of ice cream. It was so colorful with so many different assortments of flavors I didn’t know which one to pick.

You were bent over peaking through the glass. Squinting trying to decide which ice cream flavor to choose from.

“Decided yet?” I ask

“I think so, can I have the chunky monkey suprise.” She asks the waitress.

The waitress nods grabbing a warm scooper for dig out your flavor. “What about you. what’s your take?” She asks me retrieving her ice cream.

“I think I’ll have what your having.”

“Good choice.” She playfully sasses

I watch her walk over to grab us a a few napkins and extra spoons.

Thoughtful.

“Sir.” The cashier says holding my ice cream for me. “Sorry, how much?” I ask.

“It’ll be $5.78.” The cashier resports.

I dig into my wallet pulling out one of my many cards handing it over to the cashier.

I felt your brown eyes burning into me, watching me.

I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing that you were or a bad thing that you were.

“Let’s go, it late and im sure you work tomorrow.”

“Yes I do.” She mutters almost pouting.

We walk to my car. Reaching it I press the unlock butting watching the inside light up.

[CLICK FOR Part III CONTINUED HERE!]

Tag List:

@toniilaney

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ithehellisbucky · 4 years

Text

I’m Me Too

Peter Parker x Reader

Requested by: Rachel Wing or Rei Hane

Word Count: 1,623

You were dead. Well, technically you were dead, but at least not anymore. You died on a bench 3 blocks away from your apartment building watching the second season of Glee on your iPhone 6. A noble death, if you really think about it.

Then, seemingly seconds later, you were sitting half on a crying toddler's leg and a half on his frantic mother's. As most people would do you frenziedly jumped up and walked away from the family, confused at what had happened to get yourself in the position. You ran into your favorite ice cream place, only to look around and notice that it wasn't an ice cream place at all, it was a bar. A bar where several college students were staring at you.

And then one of them gets up and walks towards you "Y/N?"

"Liz?" It was Liz. high-school Liz. Psychopath dad Liz. Liz. "I- I thought you moved to Ohio or something. And, um I thought you were seventeen."

"Yeah, I did but after I graduated High School I came back to NYC, to go to NYU."

"When did you graduate high school, and when did you turn 21?" You responded.

"I graduated high school four years ago and turned 21 last years. Um, why are you asking me this?" Liz replied quizzically.

"Um, that's impossible. Last time I checked you were born in 2001, and it's 2018." You exclaim chuckling slightly.

Your laughter is quickly ceased when you see Liz's facial expression. She whispers with horror two terrifying words: "It's 2023."

Your face drops and you go into shock, running out of the bar. "No, no, no, no, no, no." You say to yourself as you run into the street, looking around and noticing all the changes around you.

"Y/n!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Liz screams at you.

"Peter." You whisper, then everything goes black.

The first thing you see when you open your eyes is a teenager wearing about 10,000 pounds of makeup scrolling through her phone about three feet away from you. The second thing you see is your mother, crying, and your father sobbing even louder.

"Y/F/N, look, oh my god she's awake!" Your mother exclaims, a brilliant smile plastered on her tear-stained face.

The teenager looks up, a tortured grimace of celebration resting on her features. "Your awake, you're finally awake." She whispers as if talking too loudly would put you back in your slumber.

You embrace your mother, then apprehensively ask her "Where am I, and who is she?"

The look on your family's face takes you back to that moment with Liz. It's 2023. It's been five years. Which must mean "Y/S/N?"

"Yeah, it's me. It's me." Y/S/N says.

"Y- you were 11, now y- you're-"

"Sixteen, yeah I know. Pretty crazy isn't it?" She exclaims a smirk on her face, attempting to mask her tears.

"N- no." You gulp "I- I'm older, why did this happen to me! What happened to me!"

Your parents silently sob as they watch tears roll down your face- but you don't care, it was your life that was taken from you. Not theirs.

You lunge out of the bed and rip the door open, running for your life down the long hospital corridor, feeling the pain in your arms and legs; and the stabbing feeling in your gut.

You make it about ten paces before you fall to the floor in agony, realizing that you have just been hit by a car and that you really have no business sprinting.

Your mom rushes up to you and kneels, putting both of her hands on your face. "It's okay sweetie, you're gonna be okay, it's going to be okay; we're going to be okay."

It was the day. Five days after the blip, and everyone was going to meet up again. They politely asked you to leave the hospital, as your injuries were mostly healed from new technology that was invented in the last few years (besides a bulky medical boot, or whatever it was called). You had to leave because the hospital was stock full of people. People whose lives were shockingly interrupted by the reappearing people and gotten hurt in the process.

The hall was empty for about twenty seconds, you were standing in the corridor wondering if you were in the wrong place, then suddenly all the doors burst open. Hundreds of people ranging from their tweens to their twenties poured into the hallway.

You immediately started to look around for anyone you knew- but you couldn't find anyone. You probably stood in the passage for a decent three minutes before you saw anyone you knew, and then you saw only people you knew.

Jason, Abe, and everyone else seemed to be alive; but then you realized who wasn't. As you begin to have a panic attack for the missing people you run into an Asian woman who appears to be in her early twenties. "Oh my god, I'm so-" You pause after you see her face. "Cindy."

"Um, yeah," Cindy responds. "It's so nice to you Y/N! I'm so glad you're okay."

"Well, I'm kinda not." You say, gesturing to your boot. "But thanks for the sentiment.

"Um, sorry," Cindy says, as she looks over her shoulder. "Listen, I'd love to catch up, but I really have to find someone. I'd love to catch up later, but um-"

"Yeah, I totally understand." You guys weren't crazy close or anything, and she obviously had somewhere to be. "Yeah, uh, same phone number, you know where to find me."

"Bye." You exclaim.

That awkward encounter aside, everything was way less eventful than what you had expected. Some teachers had stopped and said hi, and you ran into several of your old classmates. Everything seemed perfect, except for three very important, very missing people. Your best friends.

MJ was a sister to you, Ned was a brother, and Peter was an awkward love interest that fell straight from a Netflix rom-com into your loving arms. Into your metaphorical loving arms, as you two weren't actually dating, you just had sexual tension by the truckload.

After looking for the trio for over 15 minutes you began filling with dread, what if they survived the blip? What if they didn't want to come? What if they were dead?

"Y/N?" You turn around to face a tall girl with curly hair and circles under her eyes. MJ. Snarky, artistic, unapologetic MJ.

"MJ?" you hear yourself say, but don't feel come out of your mouth.

"Yes, it's me, of course, it's me; if you know someone with the same face as me please let me know, I think it'll benefit both of us more in the long run."

Only MJ could say something that obscure that was just obscure enough to release some of the tension that was harboring between us at this moment.

"I'm me too." You stutter, in a half awkward, half shocked way.

The two of you embrace, the pain and heartache bubbling over the surface and coming out as tears. Salty, messy, heartbroken yet hopeful tears were pouring down your face as the events of the past 5 years have finally caught up with you.

After locking yourself in a hug for a minute and a half you hear a sharp gasp and then a hitch in someone's breath from behind you.

You turn around in confusion, but once you see who it is the emotion that hits you is release instead.

A battered and bruised teenager, cuts on his face and neck, and probably on the rest of his body which was covered by flannel and blue jeans. His brown hair looked greasy and freshly washed, somehow at the same time, as if he washed it for the first time in years, but one wash couldn't suffice.

Peter Benjamin Parker.

A teenager burdened with glorious purpose.

A teenager who was forced to grow up far too young.

A teenager who has had to fight the biggest threat that the universe has ever had to face.

A teenager who was broken and tired, yet alive.

A teenager who was still a teenager.

In only a moment's hesitation, you run to each other, at least as fast as you could consider the bulky boot on your leg. When you touch each other you stop and wrap your arms around each other, breathing softly as your face inch closer together.

Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, your lips meet. As you kiss your mouths open, your tongues dancing in a way that only the two of you know.

*Click*.

You both turn around in sync, to see a wide-eyed MJ and a Ned, holding up a phone that seems to have taken a photo of you and Peter's make-out session.

"Oh my god, Ned! Your not super old!" You say running to him. "When did you get here?!"

"I was, um... Standing next to Peter."

You turn back to face Peter. He's blushing up a storm, and all you want to do is turn back around and kiss his precious lips again.

"What the hell are you doing, go back over there and kiss your man!" MJ says like the proud Mama Bear she is.

Your turn around to kiss him again, but Peter beats you to it. His mouth is on yours, kissing you in a loving and supportive way.

Amidst all of the romantics, you slip out a word: "Peter."

In a count of four heartbeats, Peter responds with: "Y/N."

Within the chaos of the reunification of everyone around you, and the perilous doom of 5 days before, all you needed to communicate was the way your mouth moved together, and those two enchanting words.

Requests are open!

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ks-caster · 4 years

Text

May 8th, 2019

Fandom(s): The Vampire Diaries, The Originals

Characters: Caroline, Klaus, Marcel

Premise: Klaus has been pain-daggered in Marcel’s keeping (see end of TO season 3) and meanwhile all is not well in the magical world. Upheavals in leadership make new potential Big Bads overconfident, and Marcel is too busy sitting on his laurels in NOLA to be of much use as a deterrent. After the deaths of many of our MF peeps, Caroline leaves her ghosts behind to work for the new supernatural division of the FBI. She is fitted out with the ability to time travel (who better to experiment on, since she’s immortal and if she goes too far back and runs out of battery she can just wait until it’s the right time again.)

Summary: “This is the field record of Time Agent Caroline Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, and it has been May 8th for over six months now. Today marks my 188th attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson from Marcel Gerard. I’m betting it ends with death by mega-hybrid bite. Not really feeling too optimistic.”

Before:

Everybody from the Mystic Gang basically dies—the few who survive are rebuilding their lives together, but Caroline can’t stand the constant reminders of everyone she’s lost. She gets a job with a Hephaestus, the FBI’s new “Special” R&D department. They’re using a combination of futuristic science and black magic to create agents who can time travel, appropriately called “Time Agents.” Caroline becomes a Time Agent prototype, and does extremely well for herself at the agency, but isn’t very personable at all.

Caroline runs into Hayley and Hope May 1st, 2019, and Hayley tells her what’s been happening. Caroline had assumed that Klaus was in hiding with his family, giving his daughter a normal-ish childhood. She puts Hayley in contact with Hephaestus, to try to find a way to cure Kol and Elijah. Part of why the FBI needs Hephaestus in the first place is because the supernatural world went pretty crazy after the Originals left. Vampires and Witches used to prioritize keeping a low profile, but ever since Marcel Gerard took charge, they’ve been run ragged trying to keep the humans safe. Caroline tells her bosses that the Mikaelsons were once the ones who kept everyone in check, and they’re the only ones with a hope of taking down Marcel. Hephaestus confers and then decides to help. Ultimately, they realize that the best way to cure Elijah and Finn is to actually use Klaus’s venom to burn away the venom in their bodies, then cure it once all that’s left is something they can cure. But for that, they need Klaus. They make plans to do basically a big group suicide mission to rescue him, but Caroline goes in alone the day before they’re supposed to attack—May 8th, at 9am.

Day 1: “This is the field record of Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, the time is 9:06am, and this will be my first attempt to extract Klaus Mikaelson from imprisonment in New Orleans, Louisiana.

She enters NOLA, learns where Marcel lives, tries to sneak in the back door, trips an alarm, is captured, goes through Marcel’s famous mockery of a trial, and publically beheaded.

Day 2: “This is the field record of Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, the time is 9:01am, and this will be my second attempt to extract Klaus Mikaelson from imprisonment in New Orleans, Louisiana. Yesterday was completely unsuccessful—I was captured attempting to sneak into Marcel’s private residence, tried—if you can call it that—and publically beheaded. Today I’ll avoid tripping the motion alarm on the back door.”

Caroline tries to sneak in through an upstairs window, and is caught by the two witches who work for Marcel. They turn off the spell on her daylight ring, trap her in the sunlight, and she burns to death.

Day 3: “This is the field record of Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, the time is 9:07am, and this will be my third attempt to extract Klaus Mikaelson from imprisonment in New Orleans, Louisiana. Yesterday’s attempt ended in another lethal failure—Marcel has two witches working for him, and when I attempted to enter the house through a third floor window, they deactivated my daylight ring and I burned to death.”

Caroline gets in by a different window than the room where the witches work, but is eventually caught by Marcel. He bites her, but then leaves her to die. She is able to explore his house a little more, and concludes that Klaus isn’t there, before succumbing to the pain.

Day 4: “Field record of Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 2019, 9:02am. This will be my fourth attempt to extract Klaus Mikaelson from New Orleans. Yesterday I made an important discovery—do not let Marcel bite you ever again. His venom is not only more deadly than Klaus’s, it’s also a lot more painful. However, since he left me alone to die, I had a chance to explore his house a little. I don’t think Klaus is there. Today I’ll focus on finding out where he’s being kept. Hopefully it’s nowhere near Marcel. I don’t really want to repeat that experience.”

Day 25: “This is the field record of Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:16am. This will be my twenty-fifth attempt to extract Klaus Mikaelson from imprisonment in New Orleans, Louisiana. Yesterday I learned that he’s not at (place). Over the last two weeks I’ve managed to cross off (list of places), so today I’m going to get a witch to do a locator spell, even though I know Marcel will find and kill me. This will probably be the third time I’ve died from nasty juiced-up hybrid bite. Really not looking forward to this.”

Day 38: “Time Agent Forbes, field record, May 8th, 2019. The time is exactly 9:00am, and this will be my 38th attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson. Yesterday I learned that Klaus is being kept somewhere in or around the old witch graveyard in the French Quarter. I also learned that pretty much every witch in New Orleans is on Marcel’s payroll, except for Vincent Griffith, who won’t help me, no matter what I do or say. Today I’m going to play innocent, get a bunch of flowers, lay them on a grave, and see if I can pinpoint his exact location.”

Day 42: “This is the field record of Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, the time is 9:19am, and this will be my forty-second attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson. Yesterday I finally managed to find him—he’s bricked into a tomb. I also discovered that nobody looks twice at a pretty blonde laying flowers on graves; three days in a row and the most suspicion I got was from the florist when I knew her prices by heart. Today I’m going to try and subtly get him out.”

Day 43: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It’s May 8th, 2019, 9:02am, and this will be my 43rd attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson. So, it turns out, there’s a spell on the tomb that alerts Marcel to any supernatural tampering. I got venom’d to death. Again. Today I’m going to try and compel a human to open the tomb for me.”

Day 68: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:13am, and this will be my 68th attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson. After many unsuccessful attempts, I have discovered that the perfect formula for getting Klaus out of the tomb is to compel Jacob Woolworth from Home Depot to come and rip out the mortar, after calling the police with a fake bomb threat so that they clear the area around Marcel’s house, and waste his time trying to get him to evacuate. This ensures that he will basically stay put because he thinks someone is trying really hard to get him to leave. Today’s project is finding out what’s wrong with Klaus—he’s catatonic.”

Day 76: “May 8th, Time Agent Forbes 9:00am, if Klaus doesn’t kill this Marcel guy immediately after I rescue him, so help me God I’m coming back to do it myself. Ahem. Today will be my 76th attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson. I’ve learned that he has a black magic dagger of unspeakable torture embedded in his chest. To get it out, I have to touch him—humans can’t even seem to find it, and I waste precious time directing them. That means I’m not going to have much time before the alarms go off and I have Marcel and all his minions on my ass. Not really feeling very optimistic about today. Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is die-of-Marcel-poison day.”

Day 87: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:25am, and this will be my 87th attempt to rescue Klaus Mikaelson I don’t think there’s any way around it—I’m going to have to learn how to fight Marcel.”

Day 99: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:04am, and this will be my 99th attempt to rescue Klaus. Basically, I definitely can’t fight Marcel. Day 71 is still my record survival time at one minute and eight seconds—and I definitely wouldn’t have been in any condition to rescue anybody after about half of that.”

Day 100: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:11am, and this will be my hundredth attempt to rescue Klaus. Milestone day here.

Day 123: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:11am, and this will be my 123rd attempt to rescue Klaus. Marcel (analyze fighting style). I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it was definitely a good thing Agent Hanes made me go through basic training. I survived a total of one minute and twelve seconds, and other than the part where he ripped my heart out of my chest, I was in pretty good condition by the end. I’m getting there. It’s not easy, it’s not fast, it’s not even going very well, but it’s going. Klaus, you seriously owe me one when this is all over. Or, like, ten. At least. Seriously. Today I gotta avoid Marcel’s left hand when I go to kick his kneecap.”

Day 145: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 2019, 9:05am, and this will be my 145th attempt to rescue Klaus. As long as I can mess with Marcel’s senses enough and remember his moves, I can beat him. He’s not very creative—he relies heavily on his enhanced abilities, so things like joint locks and sensory confusion are highly effective. I can simulate more strength than I have by using leverage and momentum. Today’s all about simplifying that fight—I can’t waste all my energy fighting Marcel when his minions will arrive thirty seconds after his defeat.”

Day 178: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It’s May 8th, 9:09am, and this will be my 178th attempt to save Klaus. Okay, so far I can beat Marcel, then either un-brick Klaus or fight off the four vampires who show up at exactly 4:11:26. I need to speed up the Marcel fight somehow, but keeping him down long enough to escape is proving difficult. Today also marks my hundredth time dying from his venom. I really, really want a day off at this point.”

Day 203: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It is May 8th, 9:06am, and this will be my 203rd attempt to save Klaus. So, I figured out how lure the minions in before Marcel, so I can fight all of them, then un-brick Klaus, but then I don’t have as much energy left to fight Marcel. Even if he doesn’t remember it, I’m finding it harder every day to watch Klaus’s face when he comes around only to watch me die. To be honest… after everything that went down in Mystic Falls, after I lost everyone… I had kind of convinced myself that there was no one left in the world who cared if I lived or died. I was wrong—and that hurts more than I could have imagined. …I’m going to get you out of there, Klaus.”

Day 235: “This is Time Agent Forbes. It’s May 8th, 9:08am, and this will be my 235th attempt to save Klaus. So, if I have the Marcel fight in his house, the minions don’t realize I’m in the graveyard, and they go to help Marcel instead of catching me. But then by the time I get Klaus out, they’re all on me at once, and I die. No matter what I do to distract whoever I can, the fewest opponents I can get is this combination of Marcel and these four.”

Day 273: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:14am, 273rd attempt to save Klaus. Okay… so if I pull the dagger of doom out of Klaus and then turn and throw it, I totally miss Marcel every time. But I’ve only tried three times so far, and practice makes perfect, right?”

Day 300: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:14am, 300th attempt to save Klaus. Okay. We can do this. And by “we” I mean me. And by “I can do this” I mean I might need someone to save me next—because I totally cannot do this. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. I’m tired. So very, very tired. I just don’t see how I can win this. I don’t… I just…. (sighs, breathes.) I’m going to drive my f*cking car through Marcel’s front door and just skip today. Who knows—maybe that’ll help.”

Day 340: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:12am, 340th attempt to save Klaus. I can now throw the dagger straight every time. What I can’t do is fight off all four vamp minions and get Klaus from the tomb to my car in one piece before Marcel gets the dagger out of him. I am really, really tired of dying from super-venom. It hurts. A lot.”

Day 386: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:14am, 386th attempt to save Klaus. I’m getting pretty good at fighting a bunch of opponents at once. I get about two minutes ant twelve seconds from the time the dagger makes contact with Marcel to the time he gets it out of him and bites me. In that time, I can take down all four minions and get Klaus almost all the way to the graveyard entrance. I wish I had another dagger… I just need one more thing to keep Marcel off of me so I can get Klaus to the car.”

Day 408: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:14am, 408th shot at saving Klaus. So, stuffing an explosive into Marcel’s chest when he comes after me for round three just gets me blown sky high too, no matter how I time it. I’m just not strong enough after everything I have to do today to carry Klaus and get outside of the blast radius. I’ve been revenge-tortured to death a total of forty of these attempts so far, and the explosive gets me into that position every time. I really, really hate this. I need a vacation. A long one.”

Day 437: “Time Agent Forbes, May 8th, 9:14am, 437th attempt to save Klaus. I finally found the perfect set of arguments to convince Vincent Griffith to make me a paralytic ash spell to use on Marcel. Here goes nothing.”

Day 437b: “Agent Forbes, May 9th, 1:56am. I have successfully retrieved Klaus.”

After: Klaus slowly comes around in the front seat of Caroline’s car. She’s driving at breakneck speed down the highway, and there are cars after them. She calls for a ride, and a hover-jet flies down in front of a pier, which she drives off, right onto the loading ramp, which they’ve opened. She pulls the emergency break and only hits the interior wall a little. She helps him out of the car, and then hands him off to Hephaestus’s medical team. Klaus is weak and exhausted, has little choice but to basically let them do what they want.

Klaus wakes up in a hospital-type bed with Hayley next to him. She explains where they are and why Hephaestus is working with them, and says they’re trying to find a cure for Elijah and Kol, and for Freya. She then lets Hope in to see her dad, and they have an adorable scene of awesomeness.

Later, Klaus asks how he got out—thinking he dreamed up Caroline in the car—and Hayley tells him that Caroline works for Hephaestus and that she went out two days ago with no explanation other than a note with instructions about where to pick her up. She says that Caroline is really different—everyone says she’s like a machine, and she does seem pretty detached, but not switched off; not as liberated as that. She seemed broken and grieving and hard. But somehow she had the skills to rescue Klaus in one day. She shows him some traffic camera footage of one of the fights with Marcel. She says that the most expression she’s seen on her face in the week they’ve been here was the triumph when she drove up with him in the car.

Caroline’s coworkers also ask who the hell Klaus is that she cares so much about him—they say she jumped 437 times, and the record is 182—and that wasn’t dying every day, that was potentially world-ending consequences, AND the agent needed years of extreme therapy afterwards, and tendered his resignation. “You must be really something, if the Ice Queen cares enough about you to go through all that.” Klaus is horrified by everyone’s descriptions of Caroline, but she confirms that a lot has changed in the time he’s been gone. He begins to try and bring her back, and eventually she admits that everyone died and she lived.

#Beth's New Year's Cleaning Queue #free to a good home #Any and all parts available for general use with credit #fanfic #fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the originals #klaroline #writing #writing ideas #tw death #I mean she come back #but she does die a bunch

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lonelypond · 4 years

Text

Moonlight Becomes You: Midnight Apocalypse Dance Party, Ch. 13

NozoELi, NicoMaki, KanaMari, YoshiMaru, Love Live/Love Live Sunshine, 2.5K, 13/?

Summary: The party continues, Eli has a conversation or two, and Nico and Maki flirt over a pool table.

Party On

Eli wondered how she had gone from Irish dancing in the huge, floor to ceiling window extravaganza that had turned out to be Nico’s feral DJ’s MANSION to the cold, windy beach at its base, in the middle of three women who didn’t read unfriendly but were as serious as Eli had ever seen anyone.

Kanan stepped forward, what looked like a fur coat over her arm as Yoshiko hovered to her right bouncing and You stood quietly next to Eli, occasionally shifting her hat’s position.

Kanan spoke, her voice carrying easily over the waves, “I want you to know exactly why I understand, Eli, and I hope you can trust me without worry.” Kanan wrapped the coat around her shoulders and in a blink and a shimmer there was a large sea lion in front of Eli.

Yoshiko’s voice boomed next to Eli, startling the dancer, “We are all glorious, mythical beings trapped in the mundane interactions of the dusty mortal path.” Yoshiko stepped forward and huge black wings unfurled, one brushing Eli’s cheek with a burning tingle as Yoshiko launched herself from the ground, sand flying everywhere.

You chuckled, a quiet friendly vibe, “Well, I’m mostly mundane.”

The sea lion barked a laugh and rolled toward the water, it seemed to have a wounded flipper. That made sense, Eli realized, Kanan had her arm in a cast. And were sea lions really that big? Kanan looked 8 or 9 feet long.

“Yohane descends to the mortal realm. Beware thou impure of intent” was announced above Eli’s head, the flier’s voice somehow merging with the wind in a way that Eli felt it reverberate in her bones, but then the dark haired woman blew the mood as she nearly tilted into Eli on her landing as the soft, shifting sand threw off her footing, “Damn it. Why can’t the ground just stay still.”

You was bent over, laughing, and Kanan stood, once again a human, “You really should be used to beaches by now, Yoshiko.”

“Yohane.” Eli suspected the dark haired woman had tried to thunder from her rising stance, but it came out a bleat of complaint.

Eli was still processing the ease of Kanan’s transition, “You can control it. How?”

Kanan shrugged, her long hair whipping around in the wind, and Eli felt like she was standing in a scene out of time and that a Chumash sewn plank canoe might be seen on the horizon at any point. Kanan swept down into a move Eli recognized from the choreography she was learning. “It’s who I am. Both. That what’s the dance is. Between. Together.” Kanan smiled, “That’s probably why I felt like you understood on some level.”

“But I don’t.” Yes, Eli could hear the tears in her own voice and the anger. But why should she hide her emotions, here on this beach, with women as impossible as her? It was so easy for everyone but Eli, she thought as Yoshiko-hane furled her wings away so they became invisible. Never losing control, even between willing transformations. But Eli had never wanted this. Any of this. To be torn. To be what and not who.

“Eli?” Kanan’s voice was gentle, worried.

Eli spun and sprinted down the beach. Yoshiko bent to follow, but Kanan reached out a hand, “Let her alone.”

You was watching the sea. “Tide going out.”

Kanan stared into the night, “She just needs to think.”

“Thinking is the gate to…” Yoshiko swept up her arms, but Kanan interrupted her.

“Not all of us act before we leap.”

“Good thing too.” You elbowed Yoshiko, “Some of us need to keep watch. On the ground.”

There was an unsettled moment, a gathering of power around the frowning fallen angel, a darkening of the night as a cloud passed over the moon, but then the brightness returned.

“And you, my friend, are a fierce guardian.” Yoshiko pulled You into a bro hug.

“Would be nice not to be needed.” You kicked at the sand.

“We’ll change that, one day.” Kanan hugged herself, looking after Eli. “We start by taking care of one person at a time.”

“Yeah.” You met Kanan’s glance, “Time to go get her.”

“Yeah.” Kanan took off after Eli at a slow jog.

“Let’s get back to the party before Hanamaru wanders down here.” You pivoted on her heel.

Yoshiko shoved her hands in her pockets, kicking sand in front of her, “Zuramaru has far too many snack options to go anywhere for at least an hour or so.”

Even though her life wasn't what anyone would call easy or settled, You loved her friends. They always made her laugh, even on the darkest nights.

###

Nico’s baked pasta had been a bigger hit than she’d anticipated and Maki and Mari were now having a standoff over the remnants. Nico would be flattered, but it was getting tiring, suddenly having Mari Ohara stick her spoon in everything Nico wanted.

“This sauce is DREAMY.” Mari fluttered her eyelashes, spinning, hugging the spoon to herself.

“Nico knows.” Nico caught Maki’s glance and rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the hungry homeowner’s attention as Maki swept in for the last bite of pasta, but was blocked with a clink as Mari pulled the dish away and curled up on the couch next to where Nozomi was dealing out cards for Hanamaru.

“Divination by poker deck?” Mari asked.

“War.” Hanamaru giggled as she grabbed Nozomi’s latest play.

“Let’s play poker.” Mari suggested.

Maki had moved to the pool table, leaning with a cue in hand, “No chips.”

“I’ll keep a tally in my head” Mari winked.

Maki huffed and turned away.

“Where did Eli go?” Nozomi wondered.

Nico picked up the brownie platter and dumped it in the middle of the card game. Eli and Kanan had wandered outside half an hour ago, Eli looking lost. But while Nico might go out there after her in another 5 minutes, Nico was certain Eli would want Nozomi distracted.

“I’m sure Eli will be right back so if you want some more dessert you’d better get it before then. Chocolate lasts two minutes around her.” Nico spun, hand on her hip, dialing up the flirt, “Then you can watch Nico beat everyone’s favorite DJ at pool.”

Maki snorted, “Not happening.”

Nico slid toward Maki, socks making the glide smooth, pulling up to a stop right under the taller woman’s nose. Maki startled, loosened her grip on the pool cue, and Nico pulled it away, “Bet on it?”

###

Yoshiko was on the couch, half asleep, arms around the snuggling, murmuring warmth of Zuramaru, who was watching Nozomi deal out Tarot cards, with Mari kibitzing, while Nico and Maki discussed shots and angles. In this striking home, here was a patch of cozy that somehow soothed any qualms the world outside might be trying to crash through Yohane’s barriers. Yoshiko still had dreams about the colors and the depth and the cutting cold of her former celestial neighborhood, the beauty that was both breath and burn. But Zuramaru was home, it had taken Yoshiko no time to realize that. Her only fear was that she would not have the time to fully express to Hanamaru her gratitude. But for now there were moments like this, quiet contact bringing Yohane to earth, dulling the echoes of warning choirs.

###

Eli stared into darkness. It was too cold to be this dramatic but she didn’t know how to go back, how to start a normal conversation. Then Kanan’s voice startled her.

“So, no family support, right?” Kanan settled gracefully next to Eli, leaving two hands of distance so Eli didn’t feel crowded.

Eli inhaled, closing her eyes as the cold, wet air lumped in her lungs, as heavy as the memories she had to fight, “My grandmother...my grandmother taught me to tame…to stay hidden.”

“My family…” fondness warmed Kanan’s response, “My grandfather taught me that there was twice the joy, living in two worlds.”

Eli shook herself, she couldn’t imagine...no, that wasn’t possible, “I’m just not there.”

“Have you ever tried…” Kanan could see Eli dancing, memories of rehearsal, of the talented precision machine that Eli forced herself to exist as fumbling, the stiffness where one state refused to meld smoothly into the next. Maybe if they rehearsed in the pool, Eli might understand, Kanan thought, dump the dancer in fluidity, force her to float. And maybe if Eli understood, that would help her with this.

Eli’s response was hesitant, evading Kanan’s unfinished question. “Mari? How did she find out?”

“We met on the beach as children. Then as teenagers…” Kanan curled up, smaller and surprisingly sad, “she left, I asked her to." Kanan was silent for too long, but Eli didn't know how to push more, "Eventually, she returned and demanded” Kanan lifted her head, “we tell the truth about our feelings. So we did.” Kanan leaned back, Eli was almost shivering, but Kanan was as relaxed as if it was a breezy summer afternoon. “You’re not alone, Eli. There are people like us, people sharing worlds everywhere. And allies, like You, Mari, and Nico.”

Eli leaned her chin on her knees, “Nico’s amazing.”

“Yoshiko runs a weekly group, CRAAVI. We could go to a meeting together sometime. Or you could bring Nico. There’s always friends and family helping.” Kanan started to get up, “I’ll bring some info to our next rehearsal, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Kanan squeezed Eli's shoulder, “Don’t stay out here too long. People are waiting for you inside.”

People were waiting for her inside. Nico...and Nozomi. Eli smiled, remembering their ride here, the drive had been mostly quiet, Nozomi mentioning places she liked to frequent as they drove by them, coffeeshops, art galleries, tiny theatres, a very old, very dramatic church. Nozomi had no trouble keeping up a stream of chatter, even drawing a few of Eli’s favorite restaurants out of her. It had been the most normal thing in Eli's life since she couldn't remember when, just chatting. She wanted more.

###

Nico was winning. And grinning. And so so annoyingly sexily smug that Maki just wanted to throw everyone else off the balcony and see what else Nico could do with a pool table. But Nico kept glancing at the door. And there was no sign of Eli. And the last person Maki wanted to be thinking about now was Nico’s randomly viciously roommate, but she was.

Nico stood up after sinking a nice bank shot into a side pocket. Maki had gotten closer and leaned in, enjoying Nico’s jump as Maki’s hair brushed Nico’s cheek.

“Hey, Nico?” Maki’s voice was soft, the conversation obviously private. Nozomi had drifted out somewhere and now Yoshiko and You were entertaining Hanamaru and a Mari cuddled up on Kanan by telling stories illustrated with with grand gestures. You seemed to be some kind of tilting...penguin?!?

“Hmmmm.” Nico hummed a question and Maki’s focus snapped back.

“If you want to check on Eli, I’ll make sure you get some privacy.”

As grumpy as Maki was about either of them remembering Eli’s existence, the way Nico brightened at that offer made Maki want to reach out and hug her. Instead Maki turned back to the table, “I’ll just finish you off and…”

Maki watched Nico out of the corner of her eye, noticing where Nico’s gaze lingered. Maybe she should invest in some very closely tailored shorts.

“Ha! Nico took it easy on you.”

“Sure.”

Maki nailed the shot, then bowed. “Who’s next?”

That caught Mari’s attention. Maki enjoyed the flash of discontent on Nico’s face as the blonde squealed and jumped up, “My turn, my turn.”

“No bet.” Maki insisted, stroking the velvet, watching Nico nod and duck out to the balcony.

Mari shook her head, choosing her cue. “That’s no fun, Your private number if I win, I delete DJ Diamond Princess as a contact if I lose.”

A pause, then reluctant agreement. After all, Maki could always just set up a new account. New phone, just for Nico, maybe matching, Nico would probably love it if Maki got them matching charms...moving on automatic, Maki collected the balls, racking them loosely, as she considered.

###

Eli still couldn’t believe Nico knew anyone who owned a house like this. Metal and glass bright against the darkness of the sky, as Eli approached she could see the shapes moving around inside.

“Eli?” Nozomi’s voice came out of the darkness.

“Hi.” Eli heard herself sound...eager.

Nozomi almost rushed Eli, almost hugged Eli, almost...both she and Eli stepped back, eyes locked.

“Kanan said you were getting cold out there.” Nozomi held out a jacket between them, “I thought you might need another layer.”

Eli took it, hugging it to her chest, savoring the warm sweet friendliness rising from it as she relaxed.

“Those work better when you put them on.” Nozomi chided, a gentle tartness that brought heat to Eli’s cheeks.

“Ha.” Eli laughed and shrugged into the coat. It was a little loose, so not her style, but so warm.

“Hey, Eli…” Nozomi managed confident, shy, and confiding as she settled Eli’s collar, “the party seems to be all danced out by now and I was…”

“Eli!” Nico was there, a little out of breath, “Nico couldn’t find you. This house is…”

“Amazing.” Eli chuckled as Nico got caught staring back over her shoulder, probably wondering what Maki was doing at that moment.

“Yeah, that.” Nico smacked Eli on the arm, “But how are you supposed to keep track of anyone?”

“You better get back before you lose your DJ.” Eli bumped Nico with her shoulder, a silent thanks for looking out for her.

“Thought you might need my car keys. Maki’s got a spare bedroom I can crash in tonight. Her mom’ll be here in the morning to check on our rescue and I want to know she’s all right.”

“Who, Maki?” Nozomi couldn’t resist, a bite in her tone.

“Yeah, Maki. And Dia.” No spark from Nico, just serious consideration. “Nico can’t believe what a crazy day it’s been.”

“Truth.” Eli sighed. She knew she’d be exhausted once she actually got somewhere familiar.

“We all just need a few minutes of quiet.” Nico muttered, mostly to herself, right hand pointing and sweeping, drawing out some thought half spoken, “without anyone dropping in. Then practical Nico resurged, “I have to grab my go bag, then you can have the car.” Nico started toward the garage”

“I’ll be right there.”

Nico waved as she bounced toward the garage.

“Guess it’s time to call it a night.” Eli started to take off Nozomi’s coat, “I had a lot of fun.”

“Keep the coat.” Nozomi’s arms were wrapped around her torso, but her eyes were serious, and she was so solid, rooted, and tall that Eli felt safeguarded, no tension in the air. “I’m going to take you out for the best chocolate cake in LA day tomorrow so you can return it to me then.”

Eli didn’t have to think about that. Her reply was an instinct, “I’d love to.”

A/N I have visited family, thrown a party, cast a show (Arsenic and Old Lace). First rehearsal is tonight but I miss writing so here you are.

#NozoEli #NicoMaki #more tags later #Love Live #Love Live Sunshine #Apocalypse Midnight Dance #cheers

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tidsoptlmist · 6 years

Text

It’s a Boy-Girl Thing - E.D.

Authors note: I’M BACK! for those who care: my holiday was sO MUCH FUN OH MY GOD!! I had the bEST time!!! sadly school has started again and i’m drowning in homework again!!!

disclaimer 1: over these past few weeks I’ve received so many asks about whether or not I was still gonna update this: the answer is YES!

I hate the feeling of letting you all wait or maybe letting you down when i’m not posting as often as i (and you) would want me to.

the things is that (and this might come as a shocker) actually do have a life outside of tumblr. I’m in my senior year of high school and I trying to get good grades, so I can get into a good university next year...

I do love writing this and I am so excited to continue writing this story (and more!!) and I will not stop until this story is finished!!! I promise ahha!! I see those messages as a compliment (bc apparently you all like this very much and want to read more) but sometimes they make me feel a little bad/stressed because i feel like I’m let you all down... so yea..... I hope you all understand!

(what im trying to say is that i dont really mind those asks but at the same time it won't help asking bc YES i will be updating: but only when I’m able to...) (which will be regularly again next week!!!!) (promise)

disclaimer 2: this wasn't proofread so my apologies for any (loads of) spelling/grammar error!!!!! im a dyslectic assclown who cant spell to safe their own life so yea... just a lil heads up

Part 9 一 ANIMOSITY

Summary: Ethan and Y/N are neighbors. And although Y/N is on good terms with Ethan’s twin brother Grayson, Y/N and Ethan loathe each other and are constantly in dispute. Ethan is a populair varsity football player, who likes to be in the spotlight. Y/N prefers to stay under the radar, while reading books and poetry.

Although the constant bickering between the two drives everyone around them crazy - the two live their separate lives peacefully. At least that’s how it was until they wake up one morning and every had changed…

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10

You liked sports. You honestly liked being active. But not in late summer, when it was hot like an oven outside and the air humid.

You could feel the sweat dripping down your back, your shirt completely drenched. Your heart beat banging in your head and your legs shaking. You squint your eyes against the intense sunset.

Ethan had made you run around the field all afternoon. He had made you run laps, do pushups, situps and all different sorts of exercises which names you had forgotten right after Ethan said you could stop doing them. After finishing you had dropped yourself next to Ethan on the grass: completely worn out.

‘What are you doing?’ Ethan had asked.

‘I’m taking a break. Actually, not even a break: I’m done! I think if I continue I might get a heart attack or something,’ you breath still went rapidly.

Ethan just laughed while grabbing a water bottle from the cooler he had taken with him. ‘What are you on about? This was the warming up!’ He threw a cold bottle of water next to you in the grass. Your hands quickly opened it and you gulped down half of the bottle before glaring at Ethan.

‘I’m definitely warm…’ You mumbled annoyed.

Slowly you had gotten up from the grass and Ethan had made you catch footballs for an hour. The sun was now setting and your whole body ached. You fell onto the bench at the side of the field.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this bench. I can’t carry your body anymore Eth,’ you sighed and wiped your forehead with his shirt. It didn’t help much: your shirt was completely soak. Ethan stood in front of you, grinning. Silently you watched the sunset behind the hills.

‘Let’s go home,’ you said, getting up. You grabbed your bag and looked at Ethan. He was still smiling at you. ‘I thought you said “you were never gonna be able to get off that bench”,’ he chucked at you. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but let a smile creep on your face.

‘We really need to head home though. Grayson said something about a party this morning and I think he really wants to go,’ you say as you walk towards the parking lot where Ethan had parked your car earlier.

‘Who’s hosting the party?’ Ethan asked you, eyeing your in a curious manner.

‘Austin, I think…’ You say, trying to remember what Grayson had said this morning. ‘He said Austin invited you both. And that it would be a big party. Apparently his parents are out of town.’

‘You should go,’ Ethan says, as he opens the trunk. You put the footballs and bottles of water and other training gear in the trunk.

‘I don’t want to go,’ you say in all honesty. Ethan rolls his eyes as he closes the trunk again.

‘Grayson and I never go somewhere alone-’

‘Yea, that’s kinda weird: you two should try to being more independent,’ you cut him off. Ethan eyes you angrily - irritated that you cut him off, but ignores your comment.

‘Like I said, before you cut me off: we never go somewhere alone. If Grayson wants to go: you go with him,’ Ethan says as he walks towards the driver seat. You walk towards passengers seat and get into your car.

‘I don’t like those kind of parties! What do you want me to do while I’m there?! Also; this could only go wrong. Someone will definitely notice something’s off!’ You tell him, trying to convince him why you shouldn’t go to Austin’s party.

‘You can try talking to some girls?’ Ethan suggests chuckeling, but quickly comes back from his idea: ‘Wait, no! Don’t talk to girls! You’ll for sure embarrass me!’

You glare at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Y/N, you might have a 4.0 on your GPA but you definitely don’t have a 4.0 in flirting,’ Ethan laughs at his own joke.

‘I’m not that bad….’ You say softly.

‘You know what, I’ll go to the party as well. That way I can keep an eye on you so you don’t embarrass me too much.’ Ethan says. You give him another glare. Annoyed how he won’t trust you.

The field wasn’t far from your home. Ethan parked in front of the Dolan house and you got out of the car.

‘Do you need to pick an outfit for tonight too - or do you trust me to pick one out myself without embarrassing you?’ You snarled at him. Ethan looked unimpressed by your remark.

‘Nah, you’re good,’ he simply said, pushing a strand of your long hair out of his face. In the days that he had been trapped in your body, he had only wore your hair down. It was now that you relised it was probably because he didn’t know how to tie a ponytail with long hair. You huffed and walked towards the trunk where you got the footballs and other training gear.

You walked towards the Dolan house without saying goodbye to Ethan. You dumped the training gear in the garage and walked immediately upstairs. You grabbed a clean pair of undrwear and some basketball shorts and walked towards the shower.

You took a quick shower - the same way you did that morning. This time the towel didn’t drop and you got the underwear on in one go. You stood infront of Ethan’s side of the sink and sprayed on some cologne. You closed your eyes as you inhaled the scent: it was smelled very good.

You walked out of the bathroom and layed down on Ethan’s bed. The party wouldn’t start till 9:30 - so you had a good three hours to kill.

Before you really could think of something to do, Grayson barched into the room. These boys left eachother no privacy did they?!

‘E,’ he exclaimed as he jumbed on the bed next to you, ‘wanna play some video games?’

And before you knew it, you were walking towards Grayson’s room. It was practially the same as Ethan - but with different colored bedsheets and instead of a poster of a motercycle there was a poster of old looking car. You recognised Grayson’s Ford Bronco - altough the one on the poster was red in color. Grayson turned the PlayStation on and handed you a controller.

‘Dude!!’ Grayson yelled at you. You stared at the screen. “YOU DIED” it read in thic red letters.

‘I swear I shot them first! I don’t know how I died?!’ You said annoyed.

‘Why are you so bad at this game?! Did you lose all your skills while haning out with Y/N today or something?!’ Grayson said jokingly, although he stilled looked a little annoyed at you for losing.

‘No,’ you mumbed while restarting the game. Playing video games was more fun then you innitionally thought it would be. Grayson was good company too, chatting away about his day.

‘How is Y/N doing?’ Grayson asks suddenly. You huff, concentrating on the game, ‘she’s good.’

Grayson falls back on the bed, starring at the ceiling, ‘she looks good.’

His comment makes you forget the game and within a second the red letters spelling out “YOU LOST” fill the tv screen again.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ You ask Grayson, confused. Grayson gives you a ‘like you don’t know what I’m talking about’-look. You gave him the ‘I-really-don’t-have-a-fucking-clue-what-you’re-talking-about-so-tell-me-now’-kind of look.

‘You said it yourself E: she has a good ass!’

You look at him in shock. It was weird hearing Grayson making comments about your ass - well just any ass - without getting red and flushed.

‘I never said that!’ Ethan would never say something like that about you!

‘Yea you did, like three days ago,’ Grayson says while taking the controller from you hands. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t tell Sophia tonight.’ He chuckles at his own joke. He walked towards the PlayStation and turns it off.

‘Is she gonna be there too?’ You mentally roll your eyes. Your energy level for this party just dropped to minus 6.

‘Yea, so let’s have some diner and get ready for this party,’ Grayson says as he walks out of his room. When he’s halfway down the stairs you hear him laugh and say:

‘and don’t forget to bring protection! We don’t want any surprises in 9 months!’

thank you for reading!! leave a comment if you feel like it!!

please read the DISCLAIMER at the top!!

also:

- i wrote a short grayson imagine but its not that good should i still post it???

- do you guys want me to make a master list? if so: let me know!! my ask

TAGS : @asapethan , @gabrielle-stark & @coconutethan here you go babes!!

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan imagines #ethan grant dolan #ethan dolan one shot #ethan dolan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan imagines #grayson and ethan #dolan twins #the dolan twins #it's a boy-girl thing

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higuchimon · 5 years

Text

[fanfic] Embrace of Fate: Chapter 5

Juudai stared at the cards, picking through them over and over, hoping for the fainest hint that something would change. That he could once again see the bright colors and hear Hane Kuriboh’s voice.

Only nothing happened. No matter how much he stared, how much he listened, there wasn’t anything to be heard. Bright white alone looked back at him. Even when he listened to people he could normally hear – like Manjoume or Shou or Asuka or Fubuki-san – he heard them as if someone shoved cotton into his ears.

His cards tumbled from his hands and he didn’t bother to pick them up. What use did he have for them when he couldn’t see them?

Paper, that’s all they are now. Just paper and ink. No spirits in them, no souls that waited for him to call.

But throughout all of this, there was one more point that was even worse, and he wished that it wasn’t. For all the confusion that his soulmate mark gave him over the years, for all that he couldn’t remember who his soulmate was, and he worried and worried that something had to have happened to them that he couldn’t do anything about…

He’d always hoped that his soulmate was out there somewhere. His faith that they lived hadn’t wavered in his entire life.

But now his arm was bare and smooth, as if the mark and the counter hadn’t ever been there at all. He rubbed at it hard, wondering if he did this often enough, he might at least get an image of the mark.

Just like with the cards, nothing changed. Nothing looked as if it ever would.

He rubbed his forehead, wincing. Nothing had been right ever since his duel against Edo. He wasn’t sure of why; just that since that moment everything seemed so cold and so white.

In the deepest depths of his mind, he thought he could hear the tiniest of voices, whispering enticingly to him. He wasn’t sure of what it said in detail, only that it seemed like a promise. A very wonderful promise, everything that he’d ever wanted and even things he’d never known that he wanted.

Juudai ignored it. If it didn’t get him his cards back, then he wasn’t interested in it, and it probably wasn’t real anyway.

Voices in his head were never real. He didn’t remember much from when he was a child, but he remembered that, at least. His parents made it very clear once he got home from the hospital: if he kept hearing voices, they’d have to take him back. That was what the treatments were all about. It would make him better. He wouldn’t -

Juudai wasn’t sure of what he wouldn’t anymore, but the sickness he’d had involved some sort of treatment and he thought it involved hearing things. He must have been extremely sick for that.

He tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling of his dorm room. At least when he looked up that way he didn’t expect to see anything. Not like when he looked at his arm or at his cards.

His arm tingled. Just a little and so much more like he’d slept on it wrong than anything else. He didn’t remember anything else like that before.

Juudai absently rubbed his arm, thoughts tugged inexorably back to his missing soulmate. No one knew exactly how tightly wound together soulmates could be. It seemed to vary between match-ups. Some people could barely stand to be around one another. Others couldn’t bear to be away from each other more than necessary.

I guess we’re in the middle. After all, he’d gone so long without his soulmate, even though their bond had been confirmed.

Or sort of. The mark meant that.

Only he didn’t have the mark anymore and a tiny part of Juudai wondered if he’d ever see it again. Nothing could erase a soulmate mark. Even when one part of the bonding passed away, the mark could still be seen. Faded and grayish more than anything else, but it was there.

He hadn’t ever studied what it would take to erase a soulmate mark completely. He didn't’ think anyone ever had. Or if they had, no one talked about it. That didn’t surprise Juudai at all. Who would want to study anything that could maybe destroy a soul?

That was all he could think of that would maybe wipe away a soulmate mark: a soul being destroyed. Just the thought it made his stomach churn and his heart skip beats, his skin break out into a cold sweat and his breath stutter in his throat. He tried not to think about it. Souls couldn’t be destroyed. A soulmate wasn’t even a real soul; it was just a word people used to describe someone who matched them.

But wouldn’t that mean my soulmate doesn’t match me anymore? Or... Juudai swallowed at an even worse thought.

What if he didn't match them? What if whatever happened to him so he couldn’t see his cards meant that he couldn’t be their soulmate anymore?

His heart stuttered and he lurched to his feet, icy talons of fear swiping all over him. He couldn’t stay here anymore. This was Duel Academia, home for duelists: and he wasn’t a duelist, not anymore. He couldn’t be one without his deck.

There wasn’t any use of packing. All he had here were Osiris Red uniforms and he didn’t need those anymore anyway. No books – he couldn’t even see the pictures in them and he’d never bothered reading most of them – and there wasn’t any need for his PDA either. Even when he tried to hold it, he ended up dropping it for how much his hands shook.

Where are they? Juudai wondered as he started out of his dorm room. The others had all visited him earlier – hours? Days? Something else he wasn’t certain about. Now they had all vanished and he couldn’t imagine where they were.

He’d taken a few steps out before another slash of fear ran down his spine and fairly well against his will, he turned.

The first thought through his mind was that he saw a spirit, and it might not be the kind of Duel Spirit that he wanted to see. Then his eyes adjusted and there in the shadows, far too close to his dorm, there stood a tall figure dressed in a Duel Academia uniform. Not one like his; what he saw here was far more like the Obelisk Blue uniform.

Not quite, but close enough.

The stranger raised one hand and gestured towards Juudai. Juudai started to take a step back, but the soft blur of white in his head had other ideas. His feet moved forward without asking permission from his brain, taking him closer to the stranger. Juudai wanted more than anything to get out oft here, to get into a boat and leave the island, never to return.

What he did was follow the stranger deeper into the forest, until he couldn’t see the Red dorm building or the main building or hear the crash of waves on the shore or smell the thick salt in the air that said he was home.

In a small clearing, the stranger turned and stared down at him, lips curved upward into something Juudai thought probably should have been a smile but which came nowhere close to making him happy or relaxed.

“I know you.” Juudai murmured, throat dry and limbs weak. “You’re...” The name failed him, but the other only continued to smile.

“I know you, Yuuki Juudai. Though you should be my servant, you are not.” The tall stranger’s waterfall of evening blue hair glinted in the moonlight as he continued to stare at Juudai. His eyes – an odd shade of violet – turned toward the blank area where Juudai’s soulmate mark had been. “You are in quite a predicament. You can no longer see your cards and your mark has vanished.”

Juudai wanted to say something to the effect of Tell me something I don’t know or Can you get them back for me? He’d never been one to ask for help, but in this case, he thought he had little choice.

But words continued to fail him. That white blur overpowered what he wanted to say, in favor of him staring at the stranger almost hungrily. He didn’t know what was meant by should have been his servant. Juudai didn’t serve anyone. He never had and he couldn’t think of why he would serve this one.

Because he’s strong. Because he’s wise. Because he can help you. Juudai wouldn’t go so far as to say that the white blur spoke those words, but he could feel them inside of himself regardless.

“You may call me Saiou Takuma. I am Edo Phoenix’s manager.” The stranger made no move. Juudai couldn’t say that he was in danger, but he still wanted out of here as fast as he could get himself to go. Only he wasn’t moving. That white blur kept him in place.

Somewhere underneath the blur, something else, something he couldn’t define, twitched ever so faintly, so much so that Juudai didn’t notice it all that much, not when this guy kept looking at him and white light all but surrounded him.

“Okay. Nice to meet you.” Juudai dragged the words out, trying to move over and over and still not able to do it.

Saiou’s smile didn’t change for a single breath. “You can’t see your cards. Your soulmate mark has disappeared.”

“I know.” Juudai bit those words off, wondering what this guy wanted. The longer he stood there the less he wanted to be there and the more that white blur in his mind wanted to overwhelm everything. He knew he had to get away. He knew that he couldn’t.

“I can change that for you. I can make sure that you get it back.” Saiou’s persuasive voice echoed softly in Juudai’s ears. “That’s what you want. You want those spirits of yours. You want that soulmate of yours.” For a heartbeat he stared down into Juudai’s eyes and all Juudai could see was burning white.

“The one who is in pain..”

Juudai jerked, eyes widening, heart pounding. “What?” His soulmate in pain? No. Couldn’t be. Juudai refused to let it be. His fingers tightened and his throat dried to the point he wasn’t sure if he could talk anymore.

“You don’t remember them. How interesting.” Saiou’s features fell into a blankness that Juudai had never seen before. His voice held an echo to it now, one that called up images in the back of his thoughts that Juudai hadn’t ever heard or seen before.

Every breath of those images terrified and enraged him. He wanted to scream, to wrap his hands around something and squeeze until there wasn’t anything left at all.

He didn’t want to hurt Saiou. The longer he stared at that nightmare, the more he wondered if Saiou even knew what was going on at all. That blankness, that mocking tone…

“What do you know?” Juudai forced the words out of himself, taking a single step forward before his muscles all locked down. “Where are they? Who are they?”

“How delicious. I really wouldn’t have presumed that the procedure worked so well.” A mocking, sliding taunt of a voice and Juudai hated it so very much. There had to be a way to stop it, and yet if there was, he didn’t know what it could be. That deep darkness in his mind that the white blur prevented from moving more than the tiniest scraps, stirred and twitched and heaved, though not enough to do anything.

Juudai’s fingernails dug into his palms. Tiny beads of ice-cold sweat beaded down his cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t remember that either? Well, I don’t see any reason to tell you – unless you become mine.” That smile twisted up across Saiou’s lips. “Give yourself to me and I will give you back your duel sight. I will give you back your mark. I will give you your soulmate. And all I ask for it is you”

Juudai’s heart skipped a beat and then another. Breathing hadn’t ever been so difficult in his life. There it was laid out before him. If he accepted this offer, he would have it all back. Everything that he’d missed, whether he knew that he missed it or not.

“Is it that bad of an offer? I will restore everything that you’ve lost. You’ll never lose it again, I swear. I could even provide you with a new deck.”

One of Saiou’s hands moved and cards appeared all around Juudai, each one with a shimmering white square, that faded away to show new images. Heroes of all kinds stood there, similar to the Elemental Heroes, but one important change.

“These are the Heroes of Light. Aren’t they what you would want? Powerful heroes that will help you and stand beside you. No one can ever take them from you. Do say yes. I’m certain that your soulmate would approve. They miss you.”

Juudai raised one hand to reach toward the closest, his fingers ghosting ever so close to the card. He couldn’t read the name on it but this one looked tall and strong and powerful, with all manner of muscles and clad all in pure white from head to foot. All of them wore white, he noticed. He strained harder to see the names, but they were too blurry.

“What are they called?” He asked, traces of reluctance in his tone.

“This one is Hero of Light: Earth. He’s quite powerful and his effect allows all other Heroes of Light on the field to be immune to destruction by battle. Strong and steady as the earth itself.” Saiou – or whatever wore Saiou’s body at the moment – smiled a warm and comforting smile. “Once you accept these, you’ll see them all. You want to, I’m sure.”

Juudai wanted to touch the cards, to see if those glorious images would remain there when he laid his hands on them. His heart beat faster in anticipation. Whatever this was, whoever it was, they weren’t asking anything of him that was wrong. In fact, they weren’t asking anything of him at all.

It couldn’t be wrong to do this. He started to open his mouth to agree when another thought crossed his mind.

“You said my soulmate misses me? You know where they are?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been watching over them for years.” One of those soft, far too pleased with themselves smiles came. “I can take you to them, or bring them to you. They’re very hurt and without you, they might not survive. They’ve done so this long, but if they hear that you’ve turned away from them, I can’t promise what they would do.”

Juudai pulled his hand back, fingers tightening once more on his palms. Something didn’t feel right about this. That tiny dark spark inside of him screamed even louder, screamed so that even he could hear the faint echoes of it, demanding to know what he thought he was doing, how dare he do this, how dare he step away from what he was, he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t betray his nature…

He couldn’t fall prey to the Light of Ruin.

“I know you,” he murmured, staring into those violet eyes. “I know you.” He’d known who this was all along, even if he hadn’t been able to bring the name to his lips. “You’re the Light of Ruin. You want to destroy everything.”

Juudai couldn’t have said, in that moment, how he knew that. But he knew that he knew it, like he knew the sun was warm and grass was green and water wet and somewhere out there his soulmate loved him and he loved them.

“So what if I am? So what if I do? What can you do to stop me, Yuuki Juudai? You’re alone. There is nothing that can be done by you against me.” Saiou's’ eyes mocked Juudai’s anger. “I have seen the future with his eyes. This world belongs to me and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Not now and not ever.”

Juudai took a few steps back. “You’re wrong. I don’t know what I can do, but it’s something. Maybe it’s not even me. But someone can stop you.”

“Are you so sure? But you’re right on one thing: it isn’t you.” All around him the images of the cards and monsters vanished, popping out of existence with little puffs of smoke. “Because you can’t duel. And so long as you can’t see your cards, you never will be able to again.”

Juudai’s feet worked with him now, pulling him away and darting down through the trees until he reached the docks. He didn’t look behind himself, not until he’d already taken a boat and headed out onto the moon drenched waters. Looking at the silver-touched waves sent his stomach lurching and if he hadn’t needed to pilot the boat, he thought he would have just curled up somewhere and tried to forget the rest of the world existed.

He did glance over his shoulder once, when he was too far from the shore to see anything clearly back on the island. He could feel those eyes on him and he jerked himself around, staring at the waters ahead.

What was that? He knew, even if he didn’t put it into words. That was a monstrosity. That was the worst thing that he’d ever faced, up to and including Darkness, Camula, and the Mythic Demons.

That thing, the Light of Ruin… That’s why I can’t see spirits anymore. And why my mark is gone./i> Juudai shuddered, hands clenching harder on the wheel, wanting to do something and not knowing what it was. Whether he liked it or not, the Light had been right about one thing – if he couldn’t duel there wasn’t anything that he could do about it.

He would have to count on his friends being able to do it. They were strong. They would be able to manage this without him.

Another look, but by now he couldn’t see anything of the island but a vague smudge in the distance. It looked a lot like how the white blur in his mind felt. He shuddered and looked ahead again. If he could find a way to get that out…

If anything could get it out. Was there something stronger than the Light?

Juudai didn’t know. He wondered if he’d ever find out.

Saiou – or the Light of Ruin – stared in the direction Juudai vanished off into for several moments, before turning and walking deeper into the forest. The Light allowed more of Saiou’s mind to take back over. He would remember a bit of the encounter with Juudai, enough so that he’d not ask annoying questions, but not so much that he would cause trouble for the Light itself.

The awareness of the Light turned elsewhere, shifting and changing and twitching. In point of truth, it hadn’t expected Juudai to take up the offer. It would have been quite pleasant if he had; it wouldn’t have taken long at all to get to the serious business of destroying everything in sight, and keeping Juudai and Yubel both alive long enough to watch everything shiver into non existence.

But now Juudai had departed the island, and the Light made plans for his inevitable return. What it said about seeing the future through Saiou's eyes remained the absolute truth. Juudai would return and fight again, but the Light intended to destroy him, through one path or another. The future had been set, but the paths to reaching that future remained as uncountable as the stars themselves.

Saiou will deal with this. His Society of Light will get everything in readiness for when the fool returns.

Even without having lips, the Light smirked at that. Juudai was indeed a fool, whether or not he knew of his own true nature. He would learn far too late how much of a fool he was, and the Light so looked forward to that.

It wasn’t entirely impossible that Juudai could find a way to defeat Saiou. Many of those possible future paths led to such events. As for what came after that… that was what the Light chose to deal with now.

There was awareness. There was a flicker of a soul tied to the Gentle Darkness. The Light forever found this repugnant, but it would have to work with what it had, for now at least.

What the Light saw, if ‘saw’ was even the correct word for an entity that could regard all of creation at once, was a demonic arm floating inside of a slender tube. That tube provided nutrients to a degree – the energies that Yubel needed to survive and couldn’t get hold of at the moment without assistance. The arm flexed and shifted on occasion, full of Yubel’s indomitable will, forged into diamond hard perfection by pain and heartbreak and passion.

I’ve spoken to your beloved. The Light didn’t believe in beating around the bush, at least not when matters wouldn’t be served by doing so.

The moment that it spoke, Yubel’s awareness flickered towards it. Any human viewing would have seen little more than an arm moving around and a shimmer of pure white light. The shimmer expanded to take the arm in completely and the Light could see all of Yubel now, even the parts that no longer existed. Yubel’s essence: their soul stood there now.

“What are you talking about?” After all the years that they’d been together – though the Light knew well that Yubel didn’t think of it in any such was – Yubel still hadn’t wavered from their utter devotion to Juudai.

One thing the Light prided itself on was being quite patient. It had forever to work.

As I said. I spoke to your beloved. I asked if he wished to be with you again. The Light picked up a few human traits here and there, and copied others for the effect of it, or on occasion just for the raw amusement of it. Sometimes even the Light didn’t know which was which. He didn’t seem interested. In fact, he looked far more involved in dueling than anything else. I thought that you’d want to know.

Yubel’s eyes narrowed, a low hissing sort of growl erupting from the depths of their throat. “You lie!”

Do I? What would it serve me to lie about this? It’s as I’ve said all along – he doesn’t love you anymore. The Light sadly made a gesture that roughly analogized to shaking a human head. He didn’t even have your soulmate mark anymore. I suggested ways that he could recover it but it was as if he didn’t even know you or care about you. He didn’t even know your name.

What erupted out of Yubel’s throat weren’t coherent words in any sort of language. The Light stepped back as Yubel ranted and raved, swearing vengeance and demanding more information. For now, the Light would remain careful on what it told Yubel. Lies could be easily picked out and exposed for what they were. Truth, tailored especially to the proper needs, would be far more difficult to disclose.

What amused the Light most of all was how their plans for Juudai meshed well into one another. His friends would be his downfall, one way or another, and his love for Yubel would lead to the forging of the Light’s finest weapon against him.

The Light almost anticipated the defeat of Saiou, which would lead to the arrival of Yubel back into Juudai’s life. Seeing the look on his face when they crossed paths again…

Absolute bliss, and it hadn’t even happened yet. What a glorious future remained ahead of them.

Notes: Okay, one chapter to go. Third year. I might write something circling around season four in this world eventually, but I have so much else to do first.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygo gx #yuuki juudai #yubel #yubel x juudai #juudai x yubel #soulshipping #chapters: embrace of fate #series: fate's heart

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absolutechippedtooth-blog · 6 years

Text

Please God, Be kind Part 1 (Billy Russo x Reader)

You were their medic. Through all of it. All the blood. All the gore. All the suffering. You were there for all of it. But then again you had always been there, right by Frank’s side. You had been there when Frank had broken his first bone in the fourth grade. You had been there when his first girlfriend had busted the windows of his car. You had stood next to him at his wedding, Maria had looked so beautiful. Lisa and Frank Jr. were your god children, both of them spitting images of their parents. The house you bought after your first deployment was directly next to theirs. Once Frank had been place in his new squad, he had mentioned…politely to the higher ups that you be a good addition to the team. Your special ability earned you your place and your combat skills and medical knowledge solidified it. It had been perfect at first, being back with your family. Now it was all shit. It was shit orders. It was shit situations. At least there was Frank and Billy. The two of them were the high points during your day.

It was rare to get any down time. But apparently the universe decided your unit deserved a little bit of freedom. It was mid-morning. You, Frank, and Billy were lounging around and just enjoying some of the rare quiet. The broken heart. You think you will die, but you just keep living, day after day after terrible day.

“Are you telling me you’ve never been to a strip club?” Billy sputtered out. Rolling your eyes, you sat down the copy of Great Expectations you were reading. It had been a favorite since childhood. It was rare to find simple comforts anymore.

“No Billy, I really haven’t.” You sat up and glanced over at Frank who had an absolutely dumb grin on his face. The man never passed up a chance to make you feel slightly bashful, something Billy had picked up on far too quickly. The two of them together were nearly unbearable. “I joined the military right out of high school and I never really got interested in all of that until I was much older,” You told him. Billy laughed, a warm a gentle sound. It was in the quiet moment when there was no gunfire or mortars rattling the earth that they both looked their age. You on the other hand looked young and small in comparison, the only woman in your unit. The men close to you were respectful but still treated you different. Frank at least had the balls to let you fight your own battles and hit you just as hard as the boys. Billy tried but wasn’t quite as successful.

“Well that didn’t stop you from giving Tommy Hanes a lap dance the last time we were on leave. Bill you should have seen her,” Frank stated with a shit eating grin on his face. You could always count on him not to pull his punches. “Dressed in a pretty little lace number and moving to the music like a pro. Your face when I walked in-priceless.” Whipping around you launched yourself off your cot and onto his chest. Pillow raise, you beat him with it.

“Now that is a sight I would have loved to have seen,” Billy laughed loudly and you groaned. Frank grinned and shoved you off of him, landing roughly on the floor. Billy peered over the edge of the cot at you.

“Laugh it up Russo. I could absolutely destroy you. Frank, just remember I talk to your wife once a week,” The threat made both men laugh. You might be living in hell on earth but at least you had them.

________________________________________________________________

“Listen here you cunt,” You growled at the woman standing before you. She reminded you of a snake, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a tight line. The expensive suit she wore did nothing but add to the impression with its shade of dark green. Reyes looked at you like you were a something to be stepped on or rolled over. “Where the hell is Frank?” You snarled and looked the cold woman in the eyes. The Reyes leaned back looking you over. She stood nearly five inches taller than you, doing what everyone did at first. Look down at you and sneer.

“Frank Castle is in this exact hospital,” Ms. Reyes spoke evenly, “With a gunshot wound to the head,” she explained and watched as you stood with agonizing care.

“You think I am not aware of that. I was there.” The bullets from three separate guns had shredded your body. It had been days since the incident and you hadn’t seen a single face other than Reyes and her goons. The funny thing was, that she was supposed to be justice. And you had the distinct impression that you wouldn’t be getting any. You were left to mourn the loss of one of your best friends and her children in silence. No one would say a damn word about Frank. At one point the staff of the hospital had to sedate you to keep you from breaking out of the room. Now you were just pissed. You had the fury of a thousand suns and not a single fuck to give. There was nothing left to lose. What was Reyes going to do, arrest you?

“Take me to him,” You demanded. Reyes adjusted and squared her shoulders. In that moment she looked like a child trying to square up against a mountain. If there was one thing that you were known for it was blatant stubbornness. You were already ready for a fight when she spoke.

“No,” She stated, “Mr. Castle is intensive care and the subject of a gang shooting. We cannot permit him any visitors.” Lip curling in disgust, you advanced on her in slow movements. The pain shooting up your side and back stung like a bitch. It felt like there was a thousand needles stirring in your lungs.

“Quite frankly Ms. Reyes you and I both know that is bullshit. As Frank’s medical power of attorney, I have the authority to make his medical decision should he or Maria be unable to. So far not a single staff member has asked for my input and I am pretty sure that a gunshot wound to the head requires quite a bit of treatment, considering that I am in fact a doctor. You must think me either too stupid or too traumatized not to question you but I am. And I am about two seconds of putting you in a bed right next to his. Take me to him!” You seethed at her. Those cold eyes narrowed once again.

By the time you were wheeled to his room Frank Castle had been pronounced dead and you had never felt more empty.

“Get in the tub,” Billy said and stood over you, dark eyes studying your hunkered form. It had been two months, two impossible months. It felt like there was something missing. It was like all of the joy that once filled your home was gone. All the love and compassion you once exuded had been frozen out of you.

_______________________________________________________________

“I can’t,” You murmured. It had been days since your last shower or since Billy had heard from you. The man had let himself in and had started a bath as soon as he got in. At one point in time the two of you had been something. You had both been Frank’s best friends. You had both been god parents. You had both been dancing around a relationship for almost a decade. And now what were you?

Yanking off the covers, Billy hoisted you over his shoulder. Fight or flight kicked in and you screamed and struggled against his hold. You pitched and utter fit as he made his way to the bathroom. Once in, Billy unceremoniously dumped you on the cold tile floor and knelt down. Everything felt raw and wrong. Like you were burning with cold fire.

“Are you done?” He asked, breathing hard. You turned away from him to stare at the olive walls in defiance. Long fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. There was something in his eyes, dark and unfamiliar. “Are. You. Done?” He gritted out. Standing you tried to shove past him, an arm wrapped around you and sent you stumbling back into the water. Resurfacing, you gasped and pushed wet hair out of your eyes. Furious, you looked up at Billy.

“Is there any point in fighting me now? You’re already all wet.” The man had a point but you were petty. For a brief moment there was silence. Tears started prickling at the corner of your eyes as you looked up at Billy. Kneeling down once more, he shed the jacket he was wearing and rolled up his sleeves. “Let me help you out of your clothes, I know you’re still sore.” You choked on a sob and lifted your arms above your head. The wet tee-shirt went over your head and Billy tossed it over his shoulder carelessly. Then came the loose pajama bottoms you had been wearing for days. They met the same fate as the shirt. It wasn’t Billy’s first time seeing you naked. The desert left little room for privacy. It was however the first time he was seeing you naked in such an intimate setting. Every old scar and fresh wound felt like a soft spot for him to study and abuse. Instead gentle fingers caressed your cheek.

“Let me help you,” He said and his familiar voice was what finally released the pressure that had been building and building over the past few weeks. Sobs wracked your body, covering your face with your hands you let all the pain seep out. Gentle hands ran over and through your hair.

“I’m sorry,” You choked out and looked at him. Reaching across you, Billy grabbed the soap from the other side of the tub. Reaching into the water he gripped your hand tightly.

“I know”

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Billy ran the soap over your body, hands gentle. Then he scrubbed you clean, rubbing the skin red. As if he could erase all the blood you had been drenched in when he arrived at the hospital. He was both yours and Frank’s emergency contact after Maria. He had been there as you struggled to breathe through the blood and choked sobs. You could remember the look on his face as the doctors wheeled you away. You never stopped reaching out for him in hopes that he could take the pain away. The blood was all but gone, just a memory. It had been months. That didn’t seem to stop him from trying. Then came your hair. Dunking your head under the water, the silence became more and more appealing. Those hands lifted you out of the water. Long fingers rubbed shampoo in your oily hair and then Billy repeated the action with conditioner. It was the only kindness, the only gentleness you had been shown in weeks.

“I-” You tried to speak, voice catching at the back of your throat. “We were at the carousal, like always. The picnic. Frank had been insisting I come with them. You know I had been struggling since our last deployment. Said it would do me good to get out of the house.” You couldn’t look at Billy. It would be too much. No one had wanted to say it but you had very clearly exhibiting symptoms of PTSD, on top of everything else you had already been depressed. Frank had insisted that some time with Maria and the kids would be good for you. Lisa had been all smiles, leading you around the park. Maria followed behind, watching everything like she always did; she was damn observant. And Frank had been somewhere in the background laughing, watching you play like a child.

“Which direction did the gunshots come from?” Billy asked and suddenly it was easier to disassociate. Just like a mission debrief. The taste of the beer you had been drinking and smell of the grass were so vivid.

“The footsteps came from behind me, so they were coming towards Frank. The funny thing is, neither one of us reacted. Lisa was talking about school, she was the best at science this year; talked about bein’ a doctor someday. The first gunshot came from the front. It hit me here.” You pressed your fingertips to the new scar near your collar bone. What was puzzling was why that specific bullet had been from a M40 rifle; it was what Marine snipers used. It was possible that one of the gangs had gotten their hands on military weapons but it just smelled wrong. It was a detail that you kept to yourself. Pursing your lips, you refocused and took a deep breath. “Then it became a fire fight. Lisa was hit next, one to the temple and two to the back of her skull, all from different guns. Frank grabbed her…wrapped her up in his arms. The look on his face…I went for Frank Jr. shielded him with my body. Frank got shot.” Your fingers traced near your temple. Frank had gone down fast. The scream you had let out had was rising back into your throat. Billy tipped your head and forced you to look at him.

“You couldn’t have saved them,” He assured you. A bitter smile ran across your face before you could stop it.

“I couldn’t save them, but I was able to take their pain,” Your ability was so simple. With a single touch you could steal pain numbing anyone to whatever was causing it. Frank Jr. hadn’t felt a thing as he bled into the grass. “They fired two rounds that went through me and into Frank Jr... Maria was the last to go. Billy, the blood was spilling out of her. They hit her so many damn times. She died choking on her own blood,” Billy didn’t say anything, instead helped you rinse the conditioner out of your hair and then pulled the stopper. On shaky legs you stood, everything felt worse, like you were bleeding again.

With extreme care Billy ran a towel over your skin and helped you back to the bedroom. Pulling open drawer you slid on a pair of shorts, not even bothering with underwear. A tank top came next, the fabric smelled like lavender and jasmine. Sliding under the covers, you heard Billy kick off his shoes. Scooting over you made room. He had always been silent on his feet like a shadow. Sliding in next to you, he sighed deeply. It wasn’t that either of you couldn’t find the words. It was that there was both too much and nothing at all to say. You wanted to scream out words that were caught at the back of your throat. Billy didn’t want to say a damn thing. Leaning across the bed he opened up your bedside table.

“I knew you’d have tequila in here,” He snorted and he seemed younger. The two of you had always been drinking buddies. “Now drink and tell me stories you were always scared to tell about Frank.” Frank had been your best friend since you were six. The stories you could tell. Chugging as much tequila as you could manage, you passed the bottle and rested your head on Billy’s shoulder. The harsh liquid stung your throat.

“Did he ever tell you about the time I got my ass handed to me by a nun because Frank set our classroom on fire?” You asked, the burn of liquor heated and pooled in your belly. Billy laughed softly.

“Good old Frank, he would never. Such a good Catholic boy.” Rolling your eyes you curled into Billy’s side, breathing in his scent and told your stories. The words came easy, they felt sweet on your tongue. It was a stark contrast against the tequila. It was the best you’d felt in weeks.

________________________________________________________________

It was dark outside when you’d killed the bottle with Billy. The two of you had slid farther down in the bed, your head rested on his chest. The gentle hands that had been touching you all day rubbed warm circles against your back. Tilting your head up, you glanced over his face. Billy had always been beautiful, it was almost unnatural. You reached up and traced a finger down the length of his nose and over his lips. Wrapping a hand around your wrist he placed a kiss to your palm.

“You’re beautiful,” He murmured soft and sweet. His words felt like a blanket covering you in warmth. Leaning in you let your lips trace his neck. Soft and gentle he rolled over your body and looked down at you. Shadows cast his face in a stunning light. These were the moments when he always seemed to come alive.

“Are you going to kiss me or just stare at me Russo?” And he did, he kissed you with something indescribable. As his teeth sank into your bottom lip and his hand slipped into your shorts, you came to a realization. Billy Russo loved you. He spoke soft words against your neck as his fingers slid inside you. Arching your back you rolled your hips and chased a feeling. It was wrong. You were drunk and you didn’t love him. You didn’t really think you could ever love someone again. Closing your eyes, you tipped you head back and just gave into the feeling.

________________________________________________________________

“C’mon, it’ll be a blast. Just us girls and well James,” One of the nurses on staff pleaded. Glancing up you were met with her big brown eyes and sweet smile. It had been a long week. Casualties and victims of mass shootings had been rolling into the emergency room in droves. That didn’t bother you. You had been to war. What was bothersome was who the victims were. The Irish, the Mexicans, and the Dogs of Hell. Every time you stood over them trying to staunch the bleeding of a bullet wound you wondered if they had been the one who had ended your life, ended the lives of the Castle family. Worst of all, you didn’t feel bad when they died. You didn’t take their pain. You didn’t flinch as they choked on blood or screamed in agony.

“I’m good Lena,” You murmured quietly. You were one of the few doctors who spent time with the nurses. The women and a few of the men had become quite fond of you. Because the number one rule of the medical field was and always would be to never underestimate the power of the nurses.

“Please,” She pleaded, “You don’t have to drink or anything. Just come out with us, eat some greasy food and talk.” That was the last thing you wanted to do. That had been yours and Frank’s thing. It was reserved for particularly shitty nights. Shrugging your shoulder and standing you eyed the woman.

“I am a sad drunk and I’m quiet,” You told her evenly, “I won’t be good company but I’ll go.”

The bar was a dive. Walking up to the bar you smiled. The sourly woman seemed to recognize one of her own and gave you a nod.

“What’ll it be ma’am ?” She asked you. Without hesitation you ordered a whiskey on the rocks and thought of Frank. The man loved his whiskey but occasionally Maria could actually convince him some girly beverage. The first time he had tried a strawberry daiquiri and wrinkled up his nose had been one of the best nights. The man had always indulged his wife. Once you received your drink you returned to your table and sat with the nurses. It was easy to observe them. Their problems so petty. One of them was having trouble with a boyfriend. Another was worried about having enough for rent.

“You served overseas didn’t you?” James, the male nurse asked. Self-consciously you tucked your dog tags into your shirt and nodded.

“Yes I served a little over ten years,” You told them cautiously, “Eight years with a single unit.” The memories of sand and blood were coming to the surface despite having been buried for so long.

“Damn, was readjusting back to civilian life hard?” A grimace crossed your face and once more you nodded.

“I’m naturally not the most friendly or outgoing of sorts. A bit introverted, but you know that. It took a long time before I was comfortable leaving my neighborhood. It took my goddaughter dragging-” The words stopped flowing out your mouth before you could catch them. It was rare for you to lose yourself like that. Lisa and Frank Jr. were not a subject you brought up freely. The therapist you had been seeing had to drag information about them out of you.

“I didn’t know you had a goddaughter,” Lena stated surprised. Eyes falling to the table, you pictured Lena asking about boys and love. The details of your personal life you would never give up freely. For a grown woman she had a remarkably romanticize view of the world. You tried to picture the happy times.

“She and her entire family were killed during the central park shooting between the gangs,” You stated simply, trying to make it clear that the subject was off limits. Everyone at the table had stopped talking and they were staring at you. Realization seemed to sink in that the criminals you had been patching up all week had been responsible for the murders of your family.

“Were you there?” Lena exclaimed in horror. absent-mindedly you touched the scar near your collarbone, it was the only one that was near impossible to hide.

“Yes,” You told them, “I was the only survivor,”

“Jesus christ,”

Saying goodbye to everyone, you made your way back to your house. Unlocking the front door, something was immediately wrong. The air smelled off, like blood. Slipping your hand into your purse you pulled your pistol out and clicked the safety off. There was already one in the chamber and you were more than ready to plug whoever was in your house full of holes. It could be a simple home intrusion or one of the gangs coming back to finish the job. The lights were in the living room were one and your heart fell into your stomach when you saw who was bleeding out on your couch. Frank castle lay bleeding on your pristine white furniture, eyes closed. Opening and closing your mouth, you tried to find something to say.

“Hey little bird,” He called out the old nickname and you burst into tears.

“You fucking dick!”

#Billy Russo x Reader #Pre-Frank Castle X reader #blood and gore

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missmeikakuna · 4 years

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(GL/Yuri) Shoujo Heroine... and Friends Chapter 2

Second chapter is up! Please comment your thoughts and like it if you, well, like it.

Rated: T

Fandom: Original story

Relationship type: F/F with some F/M

Description:

Sahana is friendly, innocent and optimistic, making her the perfect shoujo anime heroine… except she’s not the main character of this story.

When school prince Toyomi asks her out, she starts hanging out with him and leaves her friends behind. Prim and proper Masami and tomboyish slob Kunie don’t seem to have much in common outside of their friendship with Sahana, but they try to make the best out of a lonely situation.

So why is the god of love and marriage watching them, red string of fate at the ready? CONTENT WARNING: Some homophobic language and bullying.

Chapter 2: Break her heart and I’ll break your gallbladder

With her laptop where it’s supposed to be, Masami created a spreadsheet. She was sitting straight-backed and straight-legged on her bed.

She titled one column, ‘Hobbies’, another ‘Average grade per year’. The third column was for ‘Intentions’ and the fourth was ‘Methods’. Yes, this is very typical teenage girl behaviour, I know.

After saving the spreadsheet, she took her laptop to the printer in the study. Her smile patted her back for her. Toyomi’s Friendful page gave little information, and she refused to follow him just to see if he had any secret posts.

Naturally, she brought the sheet to school and slammed it on Toyomi’s desk before homeroom. He looked at her like she came in with a rainbow umbrella hat on her head and a wearable sleeping bag on her body.

All he could ask was, ‘Can I help you?’

‘Today at lunch we will discuss your relationship with Sahana and determine your worthiness.’ You can bet your life savings she practised that line on the train ride to school. If you want an instant win, of course. You can trust me on this. I was there.

After their arrival, Kunie and Sahana headed to Toyomi’s desk to see what the commotion was all about.

Masami whipped her head towards Kunie, who held her hands up like she was facing a police officer.

‘Kunie, you can join me. We’re going to learn more about Toyomi Hane at lunch. And Hane…’ She remembered Ukiwa’s order for her homeroom students. ‘...er, Toyomi, you cannot skip this interview. If you do, it shows a lack of care for our dear Sahana. Break her heart and I’ll break your gallbladder. Understand?’

Toyomi nodded and Kunie walked closer to him, taking advantage of her superior height. Masami hid Sahana behind her arm, while Sahana looked between the three parties, looking for a way to lighten the mood.

‘You know, while walking to the train station I saw this truck for a restaurant near me that had ‘You can’t beat our meat’ painted on its side in big English letters. I was super shocked since it’s not true. Not by a long shot. My mum is an excellent cook and has been beating their meat for years.’

First came Masami’s suppressed chuckle and then came Kunie and Toyomi’s open laughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ Sahana asked.

Masami and Kunie wrapped their arms around Sahana. ‘Never lose your innocence,’ Kunie said, wiping a single tear from her eye. The tear was from the prior laughter, but Sahana didn’t need to know that.

For the lunch interview, Kunie combined her and Masami’s desks, a difficult task given how far away theirs were from each other. They sat together on one side while Toyomi and Sahana sat opposite to them. Sahana’s friends peered at the spreadsheet.

Masami cleared her throat with a little cough. ‘What are your hobbies? I believe you’re in the theatre club, correct?’

Toyomi nodded. ‘And the student council. I also like baking, sewing and reading shoujo manga. Oh, and I’m a big fan of action movies and professional wrestling.’

Sahana turned to her boyfriend. ‘You are?’

Masami clicked her pen. ‘Interesting.’ She wrote about Sahana’s surprise in tiny characters in the ‘Hobbies’ column.

Kunie gave a quick glance at the sheet. ‘So how do you fit in these hobbies with your schoolwork? What are your grades like?’

‘Oh, pretty good. I think I’m ranked 15th this year level.’

‘And last year?’

‘I believe I finished... 17th?’

‘Did you or did you not finish 17th?’ Masami asked with a tone befitting of a bad cop from a movie.

Sahana fiddled with the hem of her skirt, looking up at Toyomi and searching for a crack in his expression that could ruin everything. But her dear Toyomi kept the contented smile and patient stillness of a meditating Buddhist monk.

‘I finished 17th. I make sure to spend my time wisely. Because of this, I promise you I won’t waste Sahana’s time.’

The corners of Sahana’s lips leapt up and she hugged a now blushing Toyomi. I’d do the same if someone said that about me.

The smiling spread to Masami, who took note of his words in the space on the paper beneath the spreadsheet.

‘Now, speaking of which, what are your intentions with Sahana?’

That question got a rare frown from Sahana, who was still hugging Toyomi. Her front arm doubled as a shield for her boyfriend.

‘Can we stop this? Don’t you know enough?’

Guilt pricked Masami’s heart, but she shook her head. She had a mission and not even the reason for said mission could get in her way.

‘It’s fine,’ Toyomi reassured Sahana. Determination burst from his eyes as he looked into Masami’s. ‘I like Sahana a lot and I want to spend more time with her.’

‘Can’t you do that as a friend?’ Masami asked.

Sahana pouted. ‘Masami!’

Toyomi answered with the same look in his eyes despite the jitters I know he felt. ‘To be honest with you, I want to kiss her someday. It would probably be considered weird if we kissed as friends.’

Masami raised an eyebrow. ‘Just kissing?’

Before Sahana or Toyomi could voice their discomfort, Kunie snatched Masami’s pen and scribbled all over the sheet.

‘That’s enough. We only need one more piece of information. How did you ask her out?’

Toyomi stroked his chin for a second before heading to his own desk and pulling a bag of chocolates out of his bag. He asked Sahana to hand him the poem that rested in her bag.

‘I’m so sorry, Sahana. I had some leftover chocolates and was going to give them to you today when this happened.’ He dropped the bag of chocolates and slid the poem onto Kunie and Masami’s conjoined desk. ‘I recited this and gave her chocolates similar to these. Enjoy.’

Kunie started with the chocolates while Masami silently read the poem. The mix of rich chocolate and sweet yet savoury matcha greeted Kunie’s tastebuds with the same friendliness that Toyomi himself possessed. Her eyes popped out in shock and she gulped down several chocolates with a grin.

She offered one to Masami, who seemed preoccupied, judging by the tears coming out of her eyes. Masami stood up and bowed.

‘Please take care of Sahana for us.’

Toyomi returned the bow. He took Sahana’s hand and lead her to the garden outside, where they chatted for the rest of lunch.

After spending a few minutes in the theatre club after school, Toyomi headed to the student council room. The president scowled at him and looked at his watch. Meet Atsuji Chinen, a tall and skinny boy with large, round, clear-framed glasses and short purple hair that would not be seen on a real-life student council president. But hey, he’s got to stand out, right? How else are you supposed to recognise his importance?

‘It looks like your various… hobbies are stretching you rather thin. Maybe you should consider eating more of your desserts.’

Missing the point of that comment, Toyomi looked down at his own body. ‘Do I really look that thin?’

Atsuji massaged one of his temples. ‘Just sit down.’

Meanwhile, Sahana and Kunie rehearsed a scene they shared. They both constantly looked to Ukiwa for approval but she was busy staring at her phone.

Dooru sighed. ‘I guess it’s not the same without The Prince here.’

‘We’ll survive,’ Kunie replied with a shrug.

‘I still don’t get you. Prince Toyomi is a wonderful person. He should be enjoyed by all.’

‘I’m pretty sure he’s only able to be enjoyed by Sahana. Does that make her a princess?’

‘Wait, what? Do you mean…’ Dooru turned to Sahana and smiled at her. Believe it or not, that smile was genuine. ‘Congratulations. At least someone appreciates him.’ She said that last sentence facing Kunie, who rolled her eyes.

Sahana looked at her watch and gasped. ‘I’ve got to get to my other club. I promise I’ll practice at home!’

Ukiwa waved her hand dismissively, still looking at her phone. Sahana raced to the Home Ec room. As soon as she arrived, Masami turned off her stove so she could hug Sahana.

‘Making something new?’ Sahana asked.

Masami smirked and lifted the lid on the pot. The stench of mustard, custard and fish filled the room, prompting the rest of the cooking club to pinch their noses.

Sahana grabbed a spoon and had a taste of the broth. ‘Delicious as always. You’ve really outdone yourself.’ She scooped another spoonful and pointed it at Fumie, who gave her an awkward smile.

‘Um, I wouldn’t want to take food from you.’

Sahana frowned but nodded in understanding. ‘Oh, Masami, thank you for earlier.’ Masami looked at her like a fish would look at a bird toy being randomly thrown into its tank. ‘You know, for looking out for me. Remind me to thank Kunie too.’

Masami patted Sahana on the head. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine with Toyomi. Consider his digestive system safe.’ She grabbed another spoon and sipped the broth she made, scrunching her nose. ‘Unlike mine.’

#lesbian #yuri #anime #fiction #romance #writing #LGBT #lgbt romance #Breaking Stereotypes #original fiction #drama #comedy #parody #Shoujo Heroine... and Friends

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blahblahblippyblah · 7 years

Text

Magnus Chase and a Plotless Hogwarts Fanfiction

Chapter 8: More Blitzstone

Summary: Just fluff

Hearth was awoken groggily when he felt something heavy fall on himself. He opens his eyes slightly and could make out Blitz drapping a blanket over him. He had fallen asleep in Blitzs cozy armchair by the fire again. The book he was reading had fallen on the floor. A typical Friday night. Blitz usually stayed up late working on whatever project he had going and Hearth passed out with a book in his lap. Usually Blitz fell asleep with his head on his work bench. Tonight he had apparently called it an early bedtime. The clock on the wall said it was only 10pm.

Blitz leaned in and kissed Hearth on the top of the head as he tucked in the blanket around his shoulders. The kissed woke Hearth up slightly and he looked up sleepily at Blitzen. Blitz was smiling.

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you. You just looked cold" Blitz said. Hearth could see the quietness in his voice as if he didn't want to wake Hearth up by being too loud. Which was pointless since Hearth couldn't hear anything. Hearth shook his head twice. He didn't mind being woken up by Blitz. Blitz stood back up straight looking at Hearth curled up in the chair.

"Do you want the bed tonight? It can't be comfortable sleeping in my chair or on my couch every night." Blitz said.

Hearth hadn't spent a night in his office since the day that Blitz had kissed him. Every night he usually fell asleep on Blitzs couch or armchair. He liked sleeping in Blitzs place way more. It was warm and always smelled like the rose cologne Blitz wore. He felt safe here. Since he started sleeping here had hadn't had one single nightmare. This in itself made the sore back the morning worth it. He couldn't remember a time before his brothers death when he didn't wakeup in a cold sweat because of the nightmares.

"No it's ok. I'm good here. I wouldn't want to kick you out of your bed" Hearth signed.

Hearth was being honest. He would feel horrible if Blitz slept on the sofa while Hearth took up his bed. He paused for a second thinking about a ridiculous idea. I mean they could both sleep in the same bed. I mean they were close. They exchanged at least 4 kissed a day. And even cuddled on the couch sometimes. If their situation was normal Hearth would even go so far as to say they were dating. But since Hearth had never dated before and not did he even have a clue what dating really was he didn't think it would be appropriate for him to suggest him and Blitz share the bed. The thought of them sharing the bed made him blush slightly. He shook his head to clear his mind. He felt slightly embarrassed he had even let the thought cross his mind.

Blitz looked down at him. Blitz's face was a mix of confusion and concern.

"Its ok. I don't mind the couch. I just want you to be comfortable." Blitz said.

Hearth just shook his head.

Blitzes facial expression then turned to something that resembled a mix of embaressmnt and a little bit of fear. He wringed his hands uncomfortably.

"Or ummm. You could come into the bed with me." Blitz said slowly as he signed to make sure Hearth completely understood him.

Hearth felt his face blush deeper. It was as if Blitz had been thinking the same thing Hearth had just been thinking. Hearth shifted in his seat slightly. He was wide awake now and felt very self conscious. Was Blitz just being nice or did he really want to share the bed with Hearth. Hearth looked back at the bed and then back to Blitz.

"Are you sure?" He signed.

Blitz nodded looking way more embarrassed then before.

"Well I mean if you want to. I get if your're not comfortable sleeping with me, that's ok too" Blitz stammered out signing as he spoke.

Hearth looked up and did his best to smile at Blitz and not look to flustered. He got up and walked to the bedroom. Blitz followed him.

Blitz took some extra pillows out of the closet and threw them to Hearth. Hearth crawled into the bed. The sheets were made of soft silk. There touch was cool. He put the pillows behind his head and rested his head down. The pillows smelled so strongly of rose cologne he had to fight the urge to take bunch of deep breaths in to indulge in the smell.

Blitz strode to the middle of the room and put out the lamps. The room was now very dark. The bedroom door was closed so only a small crack let in light from the dying fire in the living room made it through. Hearth couldn't see very well but he felt the bed sink in slightly as Blitz got in. He felt Blitz pull the covers up higher and Hearth took the opportunity to sink into them further. He was being very conscious of where he was situated in relation to Blitz. He could feel the heat radiating from Blitz. He resisted the urge to put out his hands and feet to warm them against him. It wouldn't be that hard as the bed wasn't that big and Hearth could feel the hair on Blitz's arms beside his.

Hearth really hoped Blitz couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating. He tried his best to keep his breathing calm but he was pretty sure he probably sounded like he had just finished a mild jog.

Hearth turned in bed so that he wasn't facing Blitz. Hoping this would help hide his embarrassing physical reaction to sharing a bed. Gods Hearth wished he was more confident with Blitz. He had no reason to be nervous. It was just Blitzen. The only person Hearth trusted completely. The one person Hearth knew would not judge him.

Hearth felt Blitz move slightly then gently rested his arm around Hearths waist. Hearth jumped in surprise at first but then fell back down. Blitz was warm and his arm was heavy and comforting.

Hearth wished he could hear and talk. It was impossible to communicate in the dark. Blitzs hand found Hearths hand and Blitz began to trace letters on his palm.

"I S I T O K I F I C U D D L E Y O U?" Blitz spelled out.

Hearth nodded and then scooted back so that his back was up against Blitz's chest. Blitz moved his other arm above his head and began running his fingers through Hearths hair. Hearth felt himself melting in Blitzs arms. Why hadn't he slept in Blitzs bed before this? Hearth thought to himself. He let out a deep happy sigh and felt his throat vibrate in a what must have been a moan. He instantly felt embaressemtn crawl into his throat. Blitz didn't seem to mind he just hugged Hearth closer and Blitz pressed another kiss on the back of Hearths neck.

Hearth shivered and he felt a bolt of electricity shoot down his body. They laid together for quiet a while. Eventually Hearth felt Blitzs hand in his hair go limp and the arm around him get heavier. Blitzs breathing became more shallow and calm. He had fallen asleep. Hearth fell asleep not long after. Blitz' s bed was too warm and soft. His nose filled with the sent of roses. He slept so well he didn't even dream.

When Hearth woke up it took him awhiel with a mixture of blurry slept blinking to realise where he was. It took him another minute to realise he was alone in the bed. He sat up and looked around the room no sign of Blitz. Hearth swung his legs out of the tangled blankets and walked out of the bedroom. He found Blitz sitting at his work table in his dress down clothes. By dress down he meant dressed down for Blitz. A pair of brown leather shoes. Paisley socks. Dark muggle jeans. And a white dress shirt under a grey wool sweater. He was tracing out the pattern for baby sling for Sam and Amir. When Hearth walked in the room Blitz looked up.

"Good morning. Or make that good afternoon." Blitz said smiling. Hearth blinked at looked out the window. The sun was high in the sky.

"What time is it?" Hearth signed.

"Around 1 in the afternoon" Blitz signed back. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked like you needed the extra sleep."

Hearth walked over to the work table and signed "thank you". He bent down and kissed blitz a little more harder and longer than usual. He he pulled away Blitz looked up at him confused. Blitz was usually the affectionate one. Hearth rarely was the one to iniciate any sort of intimacy. But Hearth was feeling partially warm and drawn to Blitz this morning. Maybe it was how cute he looked in his muggle clothes. Or maybe it had to do with the cuddling in the same bed last night.

Hearth poured himself a cup of hot water and made some tea. He sat on the couch. He watched as Blitz finished tracing his last piece and began cutting the fabric. Hearth loved watching Blitz work. His hand ran over the fabric so gracefully. He ran the cloth through to sewing machine so flawlessly Blitz made it look easy. Not wanting to stare to long and seem odd Hearth picked up his book from the coffee table and began reading. Occasionally glancing over his book to watch Blitz.

A couple hours later blitz hung the half finished baby carrier on a mannequin. He walked over and sat on the couch beside Hearth.

"Ready for dinner?" He signed to Hearth. Hearth nodded and then signed.

"One second

He went into Blitzes room. The top drawer of Blitzs dresser had few muggle clothing and one set of black robes for Hearth. Hearth grabbed the black jeans and a black hoodie. He quickly slipped them on and met Blitz back in the living room. On their way out of the office hearth grabbed his candy cane striped scarf that was haning on the rack by the door.

Hearth reached over and grabbed Blitz's hand as they walked down the corridor. Blitz didn't mind. Hearth knew he loved holding hands. When they got to the end of the corridor Blitz went to let go like they usually did when they got to a part of the castle they knew they would encounter others. But Hearth gripped it tighter so that he couldn't let go. Blitz didn't look over at Hearth but Hearth turned his head to see the short wizard smiling wide.

When they got to the entrance hall they were spotted by two hufflepuffs who waved to them. Hearth noticed there eyes darting to Blitz and Hearth entwined hands.

"Hi professir Blitzen. Good evening professor Hearthstone." The boy on the right said.

"Good afternoon McLaggen, Basil. Don't forget you with promised to hand in your cheering charms essays Monday. It's two weeks overdue and I can't keep stretching the deadline." Blitz said to the boys.

They both nodded. "No problem professor. We will have them to you Monday this time. We promise."

Blitz smiled and them and Hearth continued towards the great hall. The boys turned to each other once Blitz had turned. Hearth couldn't hear them for obvious reasons but he read McLaggen' s lips as he whispered to Basil.

"See I told you. Cough up. You owe me 5 galleons"

Basil reached into his pocket and Hearth turned away. So apparently they hadn't been as low key as they thought. 'All well' Hearth thought. Doesn't matter now since if decided to stop hiding.

They walked up to the staff table still hand in hand. It was really hard to ignore the fact lots of students turned in their direction and whispered to one another as they walked together. The worst part was the face Alex had on when she saw them. The annoying face of someone to was about to brag about knowing the whole time. Beside her Magnus sat obviiusly the only one not interested in the fact Blitz and Hearth were holding hands. Although that could only be exspected as he was busy caressing a tightly wrapped falafel sandwhich.

When they sat down Hearth finally let go of Blitz's hand. He immediately began busying himself with scooping up potatoes avoiding talking to Alex. She however didn't say anything she just sat with a smug look on her face.

After Magnus had devoured his 4th helping of falafel Alex got Blitz and Hearths attention by asking.

"So how long have you too been hiding this?" She asked.

Blitz made a fake coughing movement by the looks of it and then stammered out.

"We haven't been hiding anything. We just like to keep our business private" he explained. "But if you must know since September."

Hearth nodded and went back to his salad ignoring the smug looks on Alex's face.

#blitzstone #blitzen #hearthstone #magnus chase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #harry potter crossover #fluff

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thong-in-the-twist · 7 years

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In control VI

💙

//Yixing x you

Word count: 1,692

Summary: Yixing loses his grip, both on the track and in his life, and you are a countersteer he needs to go straight again

Part I II III IV V VI VII

It’s a horrible moment. Witnessing somebody struggling with a painful memory and past, impossible to atone for. Simply because there are no words to be said to such person. No way to comfort their mind, no secret method to calm their heart.

Yixing falls silent once again, and this silence is heavier than the one before – that one was at least disrupted with his crying. Now he is soundless and motionless, unseeing eyes staring into his mug.

And you don’t know how to break this silence.

So you sit there, stressed and uncomfortable, hoping that the fact he was able to get this off his chest will be comforting enough.

“Did you love her?”

The words are out of your mouth before you realize it. It’s like your body betrayed you, because you would have never said that had you had any control over your body! Such a stupid thing to say! You could have wondered, but nothing gives you the right to ask that!

Yixing looks up at you, and the pain in his face is palpable, and guilt hits you hard enough for your eyes to begin to water. He looks at you for maybe five seconds, before he looks down and takes a deep breath.

“Yes.” It’s quiet. It’s quiet, and nearly not there. If you wanted to, you could dismiss this answer as a murmur of electricity powering your fridge. But you saw his lips moving, and you saw his hand tightening on the ceramics, and you cannot overlook it.

And it breaks your heart.

He clears his throat and stands up, his chair scratching on the tiles. The sound is piercing and harsh in otherwise quiet kitchen.

“Thank you for the tea. I– I should get going.” He barely looks at you while he says that. You don’t stand up nor you say anything, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he walks out of the kitchen.

What you are doing is rude. You know it is, but you can bring yourself to see him out. You are embarrassed and at the same time his story may be a little too much for you to process.

Sound after sound reaching your ears from the hall tells you the story: he puts on his shoes, he puts on his jacket, he takes his helmet, he does a quick work with your lock, he opens the doors. Doors close, but you are still listening, drawing your leg up, to rest it on the chair, your arms encircling it. You hear his steps outside, and then after a brief moment of silence, you hear his motor reviving. You listen to him driving away, as you stare mindlessly at his unfinished tea.

You stand up only when your alarm rings. You hastily grab his mug and you pour the tea down the drain. Your hand trembles and vessel lands in your sink, a part of the edge chipping off.

You can’t get it out of your head. How could you? It’s a true information overload, and the embarrassment from having asked about her being Yixing’s love only keeps making you think about it.

You don’t even know how you guessed that he loved that woman. It could have been a stranger, it should have been a stranger, but you have set up your own trap.

It hits you later during the day, when you try to focus on your charts and reports, that you can research the accident. It must have made news.

What better way to torture yourself than to see photos of the girl, he killed by accident. The girl he loved.

It’s relatively easy to find it, even though “speedway accident” query spits back lots of irrelevant stuff like youtube videos and gifs, but when you change criteria to news – the first result has Yixing’s name. You hesitate, before you click on it.

You forgo the article itself, you skip by the video that starts playing by itself, your eyes only catching the moment when his front tire skips, and you scroll down.

The writer was of this article was merciless. Not because he blamed Yixing, or because he used harsh words to describe him. No, he was merciless, because his article featured wall photo from Yixing’s win: he still wearing his racing suit, with the golden medal haning on his neck, and flowers in his left hand, smiling brightly into camera, his other hand resting on the waist of one stunning girl.

You close the window, without scrolling down to make sure that this is the girl that wasn’t supposed to be there.

You sit in your seat idly, until your neighbor from the next cubicle says goodbye to you when it’s time to go home. Only then you move, and start packing, the bright smile of that girl haunting your thoughts.

You have no way to contact him. It only now occurs to you, but that is a major problem. Because one again he disappears into thin air, and as once before you keep vigil at night waiting for his motorcycle’s engine to pierce the quiet night.

So many times you scold yourself for asking more than he was ready to give you, for fishing for information like one would fish for a juicy gossip. Gossip was the last thing on your mind, but to him it might have sounded differently. It probably did, seeing how he doesn’t comeback.

You promised to help him, yet you skillfully scared him away.

Just like Jongdae foresaw.

Days keep getting longer, night loses its minutes – you can feel spring in the air. It’s getting warmer, plants budding. You should be feeling energized, rejuvenated, just like the world around you. But your tiredness is getting better of you.

You know that you have fallen for that biker. You’ve fallen head over heels, for the quiet, still mysterious speedway racer…

… that has yet to appear in your life since the day he disappeared from your kitchen.

It’s been weeks.

It’s been weeks, and your friends started usual intervention treatment. You haven’t told them a thing, but it’s not easy to see that something is wrong. You are always tired and you’ve lost weight. And of course the best remedy for that is making you go out and see world, checking with them café after café, restaurant after restaurant, club after club. You go, maybe not eagerly, but keen on living this motorcycle story behind you.

You cannot spend your life waiting for the day that may not even come.

But even there, between people, every motorcycle’s engine makes your head turn. Once or twice you could have sworn that you saw him passing by on his motorcycle – but the truth is: every black machine with biker clad in black seems like him to you.

But for one thing you are thankful: your friends don’t push you. They invite you out, and they make sure you come, but neither of them asks what is happening to you. They make sure that you have something to drink and/or eat, but they don’t make you join the conversation.

So you can sit with them, enjoying company, sipping on your beer, only half-heartedly focusing on their conversation – just like now. You are sitting in the salon style pub, with balcony on the second floor, where your table is situated, giving you a perfect view on what is happening below.

The pub is busy, no empty table inside, television turned on, displaying some football game. Patrons are loudly cheering, but you can’t be sure what teams are playing. Bartenders are working on their highest gear, crowd at the bar never ceasing.

Jongdae.

You sit up in your chair and check again – but you can’t be sure. When your eyes slid down the crowd his head was turned, to the side, but now that he was talking with the bartender you couldn’t be sure.

But your heart doesn’t let the thought that it might not be Jongdae pass through. It’s beating excitedly in your chest, and you shouldn’t be excited at the thought that you might be seeing Yixing’s friend that was against you meeting him, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Man at the bar gathers his four beers, and turns, and that indeed is Jongdae. He focuses on the glasses he is holding, not to spill them, and maneuvers through the crowd. You watch him intently, your heart coming up to your throat. You feel like throwing up, excited and nervous and anxious.

He is there. Yixing is sitting at the table with three other guys that you don’t recognize, but you guess that with Jongdae they form the clique that used to come to your neighborhood for weekly practice.

It takes you a mere second to decide and to stuff your pride – you announce to your table that it’s a loo time, and you stand up, and make your way downstairs.

Doubt catches you on the ground floor, your stuffed pride peering out from its confinement, but you cannot bring yourself to go back. There is a toilet sign in front of you, and that seems like a safe harbor, so you just push past their table, suddenly too scared to even glance at them, and you disappear into the toilet.

You lock yourself in the stall, annoyed and ashamed of yourself. You were so sure upstairs, so why are you backing up now?

To aggravate your annoyance even more, it takes you longer than it should to psyche yourself up for your task.

Which is simple. You just want to greet him. Nothing more. Simple “hello” will do.

So you go out, your eyes immediately finding his table, but to your dismay, Yixing is not there. Hard earned courage leaves you instantly. You won’t look for him. You won’t. You can’t.

So you just hang your head, not to look Jongdae in the eyes, as you pass the table, and you walk to your haven.

But you don’t even reach the stairs.

Because there is a hand closing on your wrist.

Because there is soft “excuse me” in your ear.

#yixing scenario #yixing scenarios #yixing imagine #yixing #lay scenarios #lay imagine #lay scenario #lay #exo scenarios #exo scenario #exo imagine #exo #In Control

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