#seeing as it was referenced last chapter anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arklay · 1 year

Text

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 9.2k warnings: absent parents, canonical child neglect, descriptions of the effects of uninvolved parenting, brief mentions of food [read on ao3] — [part two]

What was she doing?

Diana had found herself sitting outside the front of Wesker’s house, fingers absent-mindedly curling and uncurling around her steering wheel as she chewed on her lip. She could easily back out of his driveway and head to her apartment like she’d intended to, before he could even realise she had been there, but no – instead, she decided to take him up on his offer for dinner at his house.

It was a foolish thing, really, to be as excited as she was to see him again so soon after they had only just run into one another that afternoon. Or perhaps intrigued was a more fitting word for how curious she was to see what it was he wanted.

She had been cleaning up the lab for the day – much earlier than usual as she itched to head out and look over some files she wasn’t supposed to have access to – when Wesker had rung her out of nowhere, asking if she wished to join him that evening. That silver tongue of his was rather annoying, in all honesty, especially considering how thrilled she’d been at the date she had planned with those reports and a nice bottle of wine.

As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

Diana sighed to herself the moment she opened her car door and stepped out into the night air, feeling the cool breeze biting at her skin. As if the shorter days weren’t enough already, the evenings carried this awfully unpleasant chill that had her cursing her decision to wear a skirt; the sheer nylon covering her legs did little to stave off the cool air as icy needles worked their way through the fabric and pricked at her skin.

The mountains in the distance looked quite beautiful though; a blanket of yellows, reds, and the odd green had been draped over the slope facing the city, as if the forest had been set ablaze, almost. She didn’t really want to think about what would happen if that were to ever occur, not only because it reminded her too much of back home, but because she would feel horrible for the adders she so loved to observe.

And she had made quite a few fond memories on the trails – one, in particular, she still thought of too often for the fact that neither she nor Wesker had brought it up again after such an incident had occurred.

Quickly plucking her handbag from the passenger seat, Diana slung it over her shoulder then shut her car door with a bit too much force, as though that would somehow stop the obnoxious fluttering in her stomach caused by such inane thoughts.

It was simply the result of a few drinks, that’s all.

That was quite a fun little tale she liked to tell herself, considering neither of them had even had a buzz on that night.

Who knew the cold, conceited, and terribly callous Albert Wesker could be so… tender with her? It didn’t matter, she would do best to forget that stupid camping trip had ever happened and just move on.

Leaning down, Diana took one more quick glance at herself in the side-view mirror while she worked on locking her car. She couldn’t tell whether the flush across her cheeks was because of the chilling winds or if her mind was to blame, but it pulled a rather dramatic sigh from her, regardless.

With the click of her lock, she pulled her key from the door and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. That was another thing she was chastising herself for; Diana had forgotten her gloves that morning, even after repeatedly telling herself the whole time she had been getting ready to remember to take them. She could even picture right where they were sitting on the top of her dresser.

Honestly, Diana didn’t know why she suddenly felt this overwhelming need to pick apart every little thing she’d done recently, and tell herself off for it at that. It was just that the last thing she had expected to be doing tonight was standing outside of Wesker’s house when she had far more important things to be doing.

Dinner together was… unwise. A waste of time. And yet, here she was.

The short walk to his door felt impossibly long, and she looked around the front of his house, taking in the exterior of it like she’d done countless times before. There were no houseplants present to give it life, the doormat was plain black rubber, and although there was room on his porch for a bistro set, or perhaps a bench, it was simply barren. He was always more concerned with the necessities, but it would do him some good to at least add something out here, even just to make it unique compared to the other, almost identical houses it sat amongst.

Despite its decorations, or lack thereof, his proud little house always brought her some comfort. Diana wasn’t sure why exactly. Perhaps because there was some charm to it – or something of the like. Her apartment was nice enough, although a bit cramped for her tastes, but to have a home in this area would be much more preferable; the affluent suburbs on the eastside of the city housed the elite, where she belonged, not some drab apartment building at the centre of commotion.

She shouldn’t be entertaining such nonsensical thoughts anyhow, not when she was simply on a job. Still, two years in Raccoon City and she was stuck with that little thing in Uptown when she deserved much better.

It was of little concern, really; hopefully she wouldn’t be here much longer and she could return to the house she’d purchased as a treat to herself following her “divorce” – though that notion only made her chest feel tighter as opposed to the reassurance she was trying to garner.

As soon as Diana rang the doorbell, her hand retreated to the safety of her warm coat just as quickly as it had left it. There was this churning in the pit of her stomach, telling her something was off, different, and yet she wasn’t sure why. It was only dinner, but to be seeing him again so soon truly was a bit peculiar to her; they usually only ran into one another a couple of times a week, if that.

She was overthinking things again.

But it was his fault for complicating matters between them a few months back. Or so she chose to believe, unwilling to take responsibility for her share of the blame. Although, he was the one who decided to say that she belonged to him in the middle of one of their recent trysts, that she was his, and she couldn’t quite let that go.

It didn’t take long before the front door opened and she was met with a rather worn out looking man, the very same one who had managed to distract her from her work. Wesker was missing his signature sunglasses and Diana found that rather curious; they were almost like a permanent fixture on his face, only really coming off when they slept together, but their absence was something she wasn’t really used to day-to-day.

She was certainly not complaining though. There was something about those icy blues of his that never failed to lure her in.

“Diana,” Wesker said in greeting, a slight hint of surprise seeping into his otherwise dry tone, “I did not expect you here so soon.”

After his eyes scanned over her once more, he simply stepped aside in the doorway with one of his hands gesturing for her to come in. Despite how flat his voice sounded compared to how he usually was with her of late, Diana chuckled as she brushed past him, withdrawing her hand from her coat again to reach out and slowly trail her fingertips up his arm as she did so. That earned her a barely noticeable shake of his head.

“Oh, please. I thought you valued punctuality,” she teased as she abandoned his arm and brought her hands in front of herself to rub them together instead, revelling in the warmth his home greeted her with. “Or perhaps I just enjoy irritating you, always being too early.”

Wesker scoffed while turning away from her to close the door, no doubt trying to stop any more of that dreaded breeze from coming in, but the smirk pulling on Diana’s lips vanished in an instant. A sudden wave of disappointment washed over her at the lack of any of his usual retort to her teasing.

Quietly sighing to herself, Diana turned her back on him in kind, directing her attention towards whatever that scent was that wafted into the foyer. She couldn’t quite place what he was in the middle of cooking, but there was most definitely garlic butter involved, and it smelt divine.

However, that diversion didn’t occupy her for long, because Wesker’s rich cologne decided to invade her senses instead, shortly followed by the light press of his body against her own. She almost leaned back to feel him closer, to slot into the space made for her, as his hot breath warmed her ear, but she managed to stop herself at the last minute.

“You look lovely tonight, my dear.” His voice was low and almost a purr, reserved for only her to hear, and Diana would have rolled her eyes if not for the pleasant shiver that ran down her spine.

It wasn’t like she’d changed her attire since he’d seen her a few hours ago, when he had dropped in to her lab after speaking to William, when he had handed her one of those awful coffees from the cafeteria, and when he had asked her how her project was progressing – the project she should still be working on at the minute.

And she had a sneaking suspicion the wind had left her with more stray hairs than she would like, leaving her looking far worse off than she had that afternoon. So, she didn’t see much reason for his flattery, even if it did make her heart speed up a little.

Wesker left a fleeting kiss below her ear then reached around and hooked his fingers beneath her coat, prompting Diana to glance back at him. But all he did was gently pull it from her shoulders. She watched him from out of the corner of her eye as he hung it up on the rack by the door, his movements careful and almost calculated, until he turned back towards her, and the warmth of his body returned once more.

He pressed up against her side this time, as opposed to her back, and one of his hands found a home on her waist. The way the arm it belonged to was resting firmly against her as he began leading her towards the kitchen was comforting, secure, yet unmistakably possessive. And she revelled in it.

He had quite a knack for handling her just the way she wanted.

Diana let out a quiet sigh when Wesker stopped them by the dining table and the pressure on the small of her back lessened ever so slightly. She turned in his hold to look up at him, only to find that his eyes were already wandering over her. Those awfully pretty eyes, no longer concealed by his glasses. What she didn’t expect was for him to reach up with his free hand and brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, and she cursed the flutter that appeared in her stomach at that.

Wesker cradled her chin and merely looked into her eyes for a moment. How blown her pupils were, accompanied by so much warmth, continued to bring forth conflicting feelings for him; he wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or esteemed by what he could only call adoration on her part. And he was too tired to worry about it tonight.

In an effort to move on from that train of thought, he brushed his thumb over her chin then left a quick peck on her lips. His hand on her back had lingered for a moment too long as he pulled away from her, but he only withdrew to return to his place at the stove, where he’d been busy cooking before she had arrived.

Diana bit down on her lip when she caught the smile that had somehow managed to work its way there while she had been simply watching him. She found that rather pathetic, in all honesty, but he had a way of drawing such treacherous reactions from her.

With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a quiet huff to herself, she shrugged her handbag off of her shoulder and placed it on one of the seats at the dining table. That’s when Diana finally noticed that there were three sets of cutlery laid out on its surface.

She quickly glanced over at Wesker, but he was entirely focused on the pans in front of him, so she could only stare at the rather odd display instead. He hadn’t mentioned anyone else would be joining them when he’d called her, and the absence of wine glasses for once was a bit strange. She would have been annoyed at him for whatever this turn of events was if not for how fascinated she was by it all.

The sound of someone coming down the stairs pulled her from her thoughts soon enough. Soft, uneven steps, as though whoever they belonged to was perhaps skipping down. Another odd occurrence, especially considering the only cars out front were hers and Wesker’s.

The cause of said noise bounded into the open dining area with a hurried glance at the front door then abruptly stopped after catching sight of Diana, hesitating to venture any further in the presence of a stranger.

A little girl.

No more than ten years old, if Diana had to guess. She could have sworn she looked familiar, but from where, she couldn’t quite place. It was right there – the nagging feeling that she knew who this was, sitting at the back of her mind, just out of reach. And it was beyond frustrating.

The girl with big blue eyes that matched her school uniform gave Diana an apprehensive, barely-there smile as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Diana’s staring was no doubt making her uncomfortable, the way her eyes kept darting between her and Wesker was proof of that, but she was too busy trying to piece together who she was to even care.

Suddenly, the girl hurried over to Wesker and latched onto his side furthest from Diana. It was as though she was using him as a protective barrier of sorts, and that was more amusing than it should’ve been. However, the sight that followed next took Diana by surprise.

Wesker placed a hand on the top of her head in greeting, and Diana noticed the way he brushed her fringe aside then carefully tucked one of the many stray blonde strands that had come loose from her pigtails behind her ear. A small smile crossed the girl’s face at that, but she still stayed glued to his side, holding onto his shirt even when he returned to stirring the contents of the pan occupying his attention.

That was weird to Diana; she would’ve expected him to be annoyed by this child hanging off of him while he was in the middle of doing something, but then again, she had no idea who this child was exactly.

For a while, the girl only peeked around Wesker every now and again to look at the tall, frightening woman across the room. This stranger was definitely not who she had expected to see when she had rushed down the stairs at the sound of multiple voices, and it left her feeling somewhat deflated, though much more on edge.

When she tightened her hold on Wesker again, the sound of paper crumpling reminded her of the rolled-up drawing in one of her hands, which she’d completely forgotten about amidst her surprise.

“Oh! Here.” She perked up a little as she freed Wesker’s shirt from her grasp to stand back and unroll the piece of paper, then she proudly presented it to him. “It’s you, mommy and daddy!”

Wesker looked down with a raised brow, and Diana could only watch from afar as he seemed to study the child’s drawing. His head tilted to the side and she could’ve sworn she saw the corners of his lips twitch, even if it was only faint.

“Very good,” he said, tone a touch too dry, but the girl beamed at his praise, regardless. Then Wesker leaned down to whisper in her ear, an elusive hint of mischief laced through his voice, “But why is your father so tall?”

The little girl’s brows knit together in confusion as she stared at him for a moment, then she turned the drawing around in her hands to direct the same gaze to it as well. The way her head tilted to the side was much more dramatic than Wesker’s had been, and she chewed on her bottom lip as she inspected her own art, trying to figure out what he meant.

Looking back up at him after no more than a minute, she giggled then blurted out, “You’re the same height, silly!”

Wesker was almost offended by that little remark, but he only huffed out a quiet chuckle and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. There was a much more pressing matter he needed to tend to instead of getting defensive over a child’s drawing that was obviously inaccurate.

As soon as he turned around, his eyes locked on to his guest – his beautiful, brilliant guest, who was now leaning against the kitchen wall with a slight smile on her lips and her arms crossed in front of her chest. It was an odd state of affairs, that was for sure, but he supposed he’d have to make do with the change of plans. The least he could do was introduce the two of them, or Sherry would probably want to rush off and eat her dinner in the spare room he’d put together for her a while back.

“Sherry, this is Diana,” Wesker said while gesturing a hand in the latter’s direction.

Ah, the Birkin girl. That makes sense. The fact that she hadn’t put that together sooner made Diana feel like an absolute moron, especially considering she’d seen that family portrait on Annette’s desk countless times before. It was painstakingly obvious to her now though, the resemblance to William clear as day – with the nervous energy to boot.

Sherry only turned to look over at Diana as well, and the hesitation from earlier took hold of her once more as she was reminded that there was someone unfamiliar in the house. When she didn’t say anything, only keeping her eyes trained on Diana – as though tearing her gaze away would have unforeseen consequences – Wesker sighed.

“Where are your manners, darling?” he asked, trying to prompt her to introduce herself, but that only made her chew on her lip while she nervously played with the corners of her drawing. It took another quick glance from him before Sherry shifted on her feet and nodded, more to herself in encouragement than in response to him.

“I’m…” Her voice was faint, barely even a whisper, so she paused and took a moment to swallow the lump in her throat before trying again. “I’m Sherry, nice to meet you.” A timid smile was offered afterwards until her eyes went comically wide and she hurriedly added, “Ma’am!”

Diana didn’t want to laugh at the poor thing; it was obvious she was unsettled by her presence. Unless she truly was just shy. Knowing who her parents were though, Diana wouldn’t be surprised if Sherry was raised to look at everyone she met with suspicion. A good way to be, in her opinion, and not entirely unwarranted in this case.

It was a bit strange, however, that Diana hoped the girl didn’t know that she worked with her parents. In a manner of speaking, that is. She couldn’t care less about the G-Virus, or Umbrella, but the Hunters were a fun little project she was very glad she had gotten her hands on. Annette and William were… okay, but they were always at the lab, even hours after she left most nights. She’d never really thought about the ramifications that would have for their daughter before, that she was probably left on her own quite often and not given nearly enough attention.

And that pissed her off.

Perhaps she shouldn’t play the “wicked witch” tonight – a nickname William liked to call her when he thought she couldn’t hear him. There was no reason to make the girl more anxious than she already was. Uncrossing her arms, Diana crouched down, not moving any closer towards Sherry but simply showing her that she wasn’t a threat.

Sherry looked up at Wesker and he nodded. “She doesn’t bite.”

The way his eyes locked on to Diana’s once the words left his mouth, a glint present in those otherwise tired blues, made her clench her jaw in an effort to stop how her lips wanted to pull upwards. She would’ve punched him in the shoulder for that if she was standing next to him, but instead, she could only send a glare his way.

That was rewarded with the smug smirk she’d grown quite accustomed to over the past year, and by God, did she want to wipe that off of his face.

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, he was.

Wesker only tore his eyes from hers to look down at the stove. With a quiet hum, he turned off the burners and spoke in Sherry’s direction again. “Then wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sherry, unaware of their silent exchange, placed her drawing down on the counter and Wesker glanced at it once more from out of the corner of his eye. It was ridiculous, but that image reminded him of what felt like simpler times – when they had all been much closer; William wasn’t as paranoid back then, though still painfully obsessive, and he wasn’t so… fed up, to put it lightly.

Sighing to himself, he reached up to pull three bowls out of a cabinet, but Sherry was still lingering at his side. It took another small nod of encouragement before she walked closer to where Diana was patiently waiting, the woman’s eerie eyes only wandering over her, but that just made Sherry play with her hands again.

Diana forced out a sweet smile in hopes to ease the girl’s anxiety, trying her best not to scare her anymore than she already had, though she wondered how insincere it must look. Truth is, she was just as uneasy around this child as she was around her.

Then she realised that she hadn’t actually spoken since Sherry had wandered into the kitchen. Not even a word. And that probably wasn’t helping matters much. She had simply been too interested in observing the way Wesker interacted with Sherry that she hadn’t even thought to speak up; it would’ve only disrupted the opportunity she’d been given to see him like this, when she wasn’t sure she’d ever get another chance.

“I’m Diana.” She reluctantly held out her hand as she spoke, trying to subdue any disgust that threatened to seep out onto her features.

Oh, how she wished she was wearing her gloves right about now. Children were such repulsive little things in her eyes, always getting their hands dirty then touching everything they could. The smudging of colours on the side of Sherry’s hand certainly wasn’t doing Diana any favours.

A large grin spread across Sherry’s face and her eyes lit up at finally hearing the imposing figure’s voice. Curiously enough though, she mouthed Diana’s name to herself, like she was sounding it out and noting the slight difference in pronunciation from how both she and Wesker had said it, and Diana was quite surprised the girl had even picked up on that. It wasn’t obvious like a certain other pronunciation – which she despised – but Wesker’s was far more… American.

Sherry reached out and tentatively took hold of Diana’s hand, shaking it softly. All Diana could think of in that moment was how fragile that tiny hand felt in hers, and it was weird. Everything happening tonight was weird. Sherry, on the other hand, seemed much more interested in scanning her face now that she could see her up close.

Realising she was still holding on to Diana’s hand, Sherry quickly let it go and pulled her own away like she’d been burnt all of a sudden. While clasping it with its pair in front of herself, she offered the woman another smile. “You’re really pretty!”

Diana actually let out a genuine little chuckle at that, and she didn’t miss the way Wesker glanced over his shoulder to look at the two of them. “Thank you.”

“Uncle Albert?” Sherry turned her head to look over at him and he only hummed in acknowledgement. “Don’t you think she’s really pretty?”

“She is,” Wesker agreed. His voice was softer than it had been all evening, and that, combined with the slight upturn of his lips, made Diana’s heart jump in her chest.

Perhaps she gazed at him for a moment too long, because Sherry curiously looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes. Her lips curled up at the corners then she leaned in closer to Diana, almost as if she wished to tell her a secret.

She made no attempt to lower her voice, however.

“Are you Uncle Albert’s girlfriend?”

And that was why Diana chose not to converse with children if she could help it.

Her eyes flitted over to Wesker again, and he seemed a touch more tense than before, jaw clenched and shoulders practically drawn up to his ears. Although he busied himself with serving up their dishes, his movements were rigid, and Diana didn’t know what to think of that. She did, however, feel rather proud of herself for being able to get a read on him when most couldn’t.

That was unfortunate for Wesker though, because it gave her an idea. A terrible one, but an idea, nonetheless.

Diana hunched down a little lower and rounded her shoulders to mirror Sherry’s stance, prompting the girl to shuffle a slight bit closer as her grin widened. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Albert that question.”

Sherry turned around swiftly on her heels, facing him with renewed curiosity. Diana shouldn’t have thought the whole ordeal hilarious; she was most certainly not his girlfriend, or perhaps she was blissfully unaware that the situation they had found themselves in definitely made her seem as such, but it was simply fun to push his buttons.

The moment the girl opened her mouth to ask him instead, Wesker cut her off before she could even get a chance. “Why don’t you go wash up?”

The bite to his tone made Sherry freeze on the spot; she was as still as a statue, save for her eyes moving between the two adults to scan over them. Little good that did as she couldn’t quite gauge what was wrong. The air in the room felt much heavier than before, hanging around them like a thick fog. Or more like steam, considering how her cheeks began to burn up from shame.

She had only asked a simple question, she didn’t mean to make him mad.

Sherry nodded, a bit too quickly, then hung her head and hurried out of the room. The sigh that sounded from behind her fell on deaf ears as she was too focused on navigating her way to her room instead of the bathroom, counting her steps as she went.

The moment the girl was out of sight, Diana stood up from her crouched position and took a moment to brush any creases out of her skirt. While readjusting the hem to lay straight right above her knees, her eyes stayed fixed on Wesker – or more accurately, his back, now that he’d turned away from her.

You’re no fun, she thought to herself while her tongue pressed against the side of her cheek for merely a fraction of a second.

She crossed the distance between them to position herself at his side, leaning against the counter on her hip while her eyes wandered over his profile. He wouldn’t even look at her. If she knew he was going to get so sour over a little joke, she wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.

“Are you mad at me?” Diana asked while leaning in closer towards him. The way she spoke was in a far more mocking manner than she should have, the pout in her voice entirely to draw a reaction from him.

Wesker sighed once more then finally looked at her. “No.”

That was all he said before he continued to neatly arrange the dirtied pans and utensils he’d used by the sink, so Diana chose not to push what must be a touchy subject for him any further. He sounded exhausted, and that was the second time that night he hadn’t met her teasing, but at least his tone wasn’t harsh like before. His features had even softened ever so slightly when he’d looked at her – though that didn’t last long once he returned to his task.

Seeing him without his sunglasses like this was really something she wasn’t accustomed to; that made her wonder where they could possibly be if not perched atop that sharp nose of his. Their absence provided her with a sort of confronting view. When they’d fallen into bed, or tangled tongues, or even showered together on occasion, she had never really noticed, but now, outside of the heat of the moment and watching him do something so ordinary, she could see that he was wearing himself thin.

The dark circles under his eyes were quite telling of his position, juggling being Umbrella’s Chief of Security with being thrown into an undercover job that held a title of equal responsibility. Whoever thought that was a brilliant idea was clearly deluded, but Diana knew there was no one else more capable for the role.

It wasn’t her place to pass judgement anyhow. She was technically working three jobs, but it wasn’t really the same. The lines blurred more for her. She only had to send reports back to the company as she did her research within Umbrella, not continue to work in a lab with them as well. And her position at the university was merely a front before she’d head underground and take the cable car to the NEST.

Diana pressed her lips together then looked in the direction Sherry had disappeared off to. That was something she was still immensely curious about.

Tilting her head to the side as she let her gaze fall on him once more, she offered Wesker a subtle smile and brushed her hair back behind her ear. “You don’t seem the type to like children.”

“I don’t,” he admitted, “but she is an exception.”

Wesker said no more than that, clipped and short once again, and not bothering to elaborate any further. But the feeling of eyes boring a hole into the side of his head eventually made him acquiesce with a huff.

“I look after her when her parents are more concerned with their research.”

That harsh bite to his tone was back, and it caught Diana off guard this time. She didn’t realise he held such reservations towards his close friend, though she understood it more than she wished. A child deserves parents who will cherish them – even she could admit that. But she couldn’t tell if the way he spoke was because she had struck a nerve by entertaining Sherry’s questioning, or if the fact that the girl’s parents were so absent in her life actually bothered him. It could have also been that looking after her was taking up his own time when she wasn’t even his responsibility.

Diana reached out and ran her fingertips across his shoulder and towards his jaw. How he held his breath when they travelled up his neck always delighted her, but she only laid her hand flat against the side with her fingers curling around to his nape. After a short moment of her thumb slowly gliding back and forth along his jaw, Wesker leisurely turned his head from where he was still looking down at the sink and met her gaze.

The question in those weary blues drew another smile from Diana, slowly pulling on her lips and near crinkling the corners of her eyes. She lifted her hand and gently hooked her forefinger beneath his chin while pressing her thumb down against it, then she pulled him closer towards herself so she could press a soft kiss to his lips.

It lasted only a second. A brief touch of her lips to his own. But Wesker’s eyes remained closed even once she had withdrawn. His posture was still stiff, muscles pulled taut, and his nostrils flared when he inhaled. The crease between his brows had also deepened due to whatever battle he was fighting up in that head of his, but the last thing Diana wanted tonight was for him to go and believe she was pressuring him into making their “arrangement” more than what it was.

“Relax,” she whispered and he slowly opened his eyes, “I do not care to put a label on whatever this is. I simply enjoy your company.”

Diana was relieved to see the tension in his shoulders and jaw ease up at that, but why the topic was so difficult for him intrigued her. Perhaps his experience with committed relationships was not too dissimilar from her own. Or he truly just wanted something casual with her. Which was fine. And having to confront where they stood with one another was too much of a hassle. She couldn’t agree more.

She let go of his chin to rest her palm on his shoulder. “I only wished to poke fun, but this was… unexpected.”

“It’s fine. It was a joke,” Wesker replied dismissively.

“A joke that made you uncomfortable.” Diana averted her gaze, looking down at her hand instead, where her thumb was brushing along the stitching of his shirt. Then she softly shook her head. “It was in poor taste. We agreed this was… Nevermind. I shouldn’t have overstepped your boundaries like that.”

Wesker’s eyes narrowed as he observed her expression. She didn’t usually apologise for her admittedly endearing behaviour – he gathered that’s what she was trying to do, at least. Besides, if he wasn’t so tightly wound, and hadn’t heard his former partner’s name spoken in passing earlier that week, maybe such a comment wouldn’t have affected him to this extent.

He didn’t need her fretting over something as trivial as this though. It was clearly a slip up on his part, letting a joke like that make him uncomfortable in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Wesker repeated, not as terse as before, yet still more distant than how they had grown to be with one another. “She brought it up and—”

Diana placed her free hand over his clenched fist on the counter; he hadn’t even realised he’d done that. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

That, he was thankful for. She always seemed to know when he wasn’t ready to broach a topic, and she never held that against him. It wasn’t something he was used to; people always liked to pry into his personal matters and press him to open up when he didn’t want to, or when he simply wasn’t ready, but not Diana.

And she could read him so well. William was really the only person besides his sister who could see through him, understand him, and now there was her… Wesker didn’t know what he’d expected asking Diana to join him tonight when he was in a foul mood and she was clearly too busy, but it wasn’t this.

He hadn’t accounted for his whole day to go even further south after lunch either. It was getting harder to think, honestly, and despite being the one to invite her over in the first place, part of him just wanted to go to bed and end the day already.

Wesker reached up and covered the hand still resting on his shoulder with his own, and he gave it a light squeeze. That made warmth bloom from the centre of Diana’s chest, and she didn’t bother suppressing the smile that had managed to sneak its way onto her face. It only deepened when he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of it, before he dropped it just as quickly.

He lifted two of the bowls off of the counter and manoeuvred past her towards the dining table, and Diana lightly shook her head, the smile on her lips not wavering in the slightest. Just like that, a moment ended in an instant. So, she picked up the last dish and followed suit, carefully placing it down where she usually sat.

It wasn’t odd for him to do that, especially not of late, when he would give her a peek into how tender he could be before catching himself, but what was unusual to her was how distracted he seemed. Diana had already gathered that he was tired, sure, but the way he glanced down at his watch, prompting a frown to etch into his features, like cracks in porcelain, made her well aware that something was wrong.

With only a curious look cast his way, Wesker revealed his thoughts to her almost instantly. “William was supposed to pick her up over an hour ago.”

Well then… It seemed as though his friend was definitely the cause of his ire. Whether it was because of Sherry’s wellbeing or because he preferred punctuality, it didn’t matter; it was William who had infuriated him, she only twisted the knife. Or so she believed.

“Oh? And here I thought this little dinner with her was all planned,” Diana playfully teased with a soft smirk pulling up the corner of her lips. That was rewarded with a small chuckle from Wesker.

How he had hung his head with a light nod to it as the quiet sound spilled from his lips brought about that revolting flutter in the pit of Diana’s stomach. She hated that feeling, well and truly hated it, yet she took his reaction as a win; all she could hope for was that her presence could ease the worries nagging at his mind tonight, even just a little. An arrogant belief, some might say, but she knew she could offer a bit of humour when she liked someone well enough.

Wesker’s eyes locked on to hers from across the table and it felt as if the world around them had fallen away, like time itself had stopped. For but a moment, it was just the two of them, no one else existed, and neither dared to move.

Things would be so much simpler if she had just kept her resolve a couple of months back and ended whatever this game of theirs was. She wouldn’t have to deal with these ridiculous reactions her body loved to have around him then.

He broke the stillness first, rounding the table to stand at her back, just like he’d done when he had welcomed her inside. Diana steadied herself by holding onto the top of the chair she should’ve just sat down in when they had walked over, but Wesker simply laid a hand on the side of her hip while the other reached up to brush her hair aside. His hot breath warmed her now-exposed neck, and Diana’s breath caught in her throat.

Like always, the press of his lips was so much softer than she had anticipated.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he whispered as he pulled away.

A single chaste kiss, placed right on the junction of her neck and shoulder. Molten sparks danced across every inch of Diana’s skin, and she was glad Wesker didn’t spare her so much as a glance when he walked past her and disappeared up the stairs; she had no doubt her cheeks were flushed pink, and that was embarrassing enough in and of itself.

She slumped down into her chair, rather unceremoniously at that, and let out a heavy sigh. Tonight would have been much better if she had just declined his offer, gone back to her miserable little apartment, and clinked glasses with that annoying robin that liked to sit and peck away at her window every morning.

Yeah, I want to attack my reflection as well, buddy. She’s a right moron.

Diana directed her attention towards the dish in front of her instead, and that didn’t help. Pasta with garlic butter prawns. Or shrimp, as he liked to correct her so often. That explained the mouth-watering scent she’d been enveloped in the moment she had walked in the door – but why did he have to cook one of her favourites tonight, of all nights? He was making it incredibly difficult for her to hate him.

Where was Sherry and her invasive little questions when she needed her?

The girl was taking much too long in washing up, and Diana selfishly wanted her to come back and distract her from the mess of thoughts going on inside her head. There was also the grumbling in her stomach, much more pronounced now that she’d finally got a proper look at what Wesker had cooked.

She didn’t have to wait long; the sound of a door clicking shut followed by two sets of footsteps made her look over towards the stairs. Sherry was skipping down them again, seeming happier than she had been when she’d left the kitchen earlier, and Wesker trailed behind her.

He rubbed at his forehead as he took his time walking down each step. A stark contrast to Sherry, who triumphantly hopped off the last one then dashed over to the dining table to stand at Diana’s side. She turned in her seat to face the girl, who had a large grin stretched across her face, and was immediately met with a drawing being presented to her this time around.

“This is for you!” Sherry proudly announced, holding the drawing out at arm’s length.

Diana felt frozen in place. She didn’t really know what to do in this sort of situation, and it was honestly rather puzzling to her that this little girl was raised – loosely speaking – by parents such as hers. Her cheerful and sweet nature seeped out through the cracks in her timid and distant demeanour, like rays of light shining from beyond the clouds on an overcast day. Why that disturbed her, Diana wasn’t sure. Perhaps because she felt as though this girl’s light may be extinguished given the hand she was dealt, that she would grow up and lose this spark.

Swallowing to rid herself of the horrid feeling sitting at the base of her throat, Diana reached out and carefully took the drawing from Sherry’s hands.

It was cute… That, she couldn’t deny. The image was of herself and Wesker – at least, that’s who she inferred the man with yellow hair and sunglasses was.

Upon further inspection, Diana noticed that the miniature versions of the two of them were holding hands, and that made her lips turn up far too easily. The last thing she would’ve expected a child to pull from her was a genuine smile, and over a drawing, of all things.

Diana looked back up at Sherry, though her fingers still danced over the back of the paper, almost as if she didn’t want to part with it just yet. “Thank you, Sherry.”

“Do you like it?” Sherry bounced on her feet as she spoke, and it hit Diana then.

She was once this little girl… So eager to show off what she was passionate about only for her parents to pay her no mind, to not care, so she would show anyone who took even the slightest interest – anyone who was remotely nice to her.

It damages a child, to have parents who are rarely home, who leave them to their own devices so often, then never show concern for their wellbeing. Her parents were like that: indifferent and absent for long stretches of time. And when they were home, Diana was made to feel like a bother. She hadn’t realised how much that had all affected her until she was in her twenties, when it was too late.

That was something she didn’t think much of anymore. It was easier that way. But for it to crop up tonight, amongst everything else… This visit had truly not panned out the way she had expected.

Diana placed the drawing down on the table and allowed her smile to properly take up residence across her face. It was the least she could do for the little girl. “I do. You are quite the artist.”

Sherry beamed at that before she hurried over to her seat; how her eyes lit up brought Diana a feeling similar to that of when she accomplished something with her work. It wasn’t quite pride, but more gentle and comforting. Fulfilling.

The moment Diana turned back to face Wesker, she was met with his eyes already firmly fixed on her. The unreadable look in them made her narrow her own, trying to prompt some clarification from him, but he only offered her this soft, almost appreciative, smile – as faint as it was.

And she returned the gesture in kind.

Dinner together was uneventful, devoid of their lengthy debates or discussing what had occurred for the both of them since seeing each other last. Diana’s teasing was also completely out of the question due to their little guest, who actually tried to bring up their relationship status out of nowhere once again. That ended in Wesker having to explain to her that not every woman who was in close proximity to him was his girlfriend, and yet Sherry had pressed on.

“But you really like her!”

Diana had tried not to laugh. The last thing she wanted was for Sherry to send him into cardiac arrest over whatever his troubles with relationships were. As harmless an inquiry it was, she understood the weight it could hold.

Wesker, on the other hand, wasn’t so dismissive. He had caught himself almost worrying over this conclusion Sherry had come to – if it actually held weight.

Sure, he enjoyed Diana’s company more than he cared to admit, and he often got too jealous for his own good when others showed an interest in her, but he didn’t consider her his girlfriend. That was such a juvenile term. Had he thought of her as a lover, or partner, from time to time? Unfortunately. But it was quite obvious to him that she preferred their “no strings attached” sort of arrangement.

They did spend an awful lot of time together though.

That didn’t necessarily mean they were together. Absolutely not. She was fascinating is all, and he found her games to be quite fun. Whatever attraction he had to her would fizzle out soon enough, as soon as he got bored – a blatant lie he liked to tell himself, considering how much it had bothered him when he was without her for a month, and the fact that said attraction had been going on for over a year at this point.

They were almost finished with their meals when one of the landlines went off; the shrill ringing made Wesker’s eyes squeeze shut of their own accord, though for merely half a second. He sighed as he stood up to go and answer it, and one of his hands smoothed down Sherry’s hair as he passed by her.

It was late, and the poor girl looked as though she was going to fall asleep right at the table – fork in hand and all. Diana wondered if she had a bedroom in Wesker’s house that she could stay in for the night; she had no doubt Sherry’s parents had stayed at work until dawn on occasion, so surely he had something arranged for her whenever such an incident occurred. At least, she hoped so.

She watched the way Sherry was staring off in the direction Wesker had gone. The side of her hand was resting on the table, fork in a loose grasp between her fingers and merely sitting on the food left in her bowl. Diana slowly reached across the table and gently tapped one of her fingers on the surface beside it a few times to capture her attention.

“Finish up your dinner,” she quietly said, keeping her voice softer for the girl once their eyes had met.

Sherry nodded and looked back down at her food before she began picking at it. The utter dejection in her eyes shouldn’t have made Diana’s heart crack in two. Since when did she care about the feelings of children? The girl’s low spirits could easily be attributed to how tired she was, and what a long day she had been through seeing some strange woman in a space so familiar to her. It certainly wasn’t because of her situation that hit a little too close to home for Diana… That was absurd.

However, Diana did really want to give the girl’s parents an earful the next time she saw them in the lab.

She glanced over to where Sherry had been looking and caught sight of Wesker in the lounge room, pinching the bridge of his nose while he spoke on the phone. She couldn’t make out any of what was being said, he was too far away for that, but he looked even more frustrated than before.

Wesker let out a heavy sigh before he said what was barely even a farewell and hung up. Diana noticed how his jaw clenched for a second, before he shook his head. He made his way back over to the table and Sherry looked up at him expectantly; her eyes were open wide and a hopeful smile was scarcely contained at the corners of her lips.

“Your mother is on her way,” he said, then cocked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you go and gather your things?”

Sherry’s brief excitement vanished in an instant then. “Daddy said he’d pick me up.”

The words had barely left her mouth they were so quiet, but Diana could recognise the resignation amongst the hurt. This wasn’t new. It was as if the girl was used to this, like she had accounted for the possibility but had still held onto a small glimmer of hope, and that bothered Diana far too much. She had been trying so hard to convince herself that the situation wasn’t that bad.

“I know, darling.” Wesker placed his hands on her shoulders once she had slipped out of her chair. He slowly rubbed up and down her arms for a moment, in some futile attempt to comfort her, before he guided her towards the stairs. “Go on.”

The two of them watched Sherry drag herself out of the room, making no attempt to properly lift her feet as she walked. It made for a dreadful sight, honestly, one Diana wished she hadn’t seen. She waited until Sherry had gone up the stairs, where she was sure the girl was well out of earshot, then she looked up at Wesker.

“Does this happen often?” she asked, keeping her voice relatively low, yet unaware of how much concern was dripping off of her words.

Wesker sighed for another time that night, and slowly nodded as he sat back down across from her. That was all he offered on the matter, simply settling back in his seat instead, and silence washed over them.

It wasn’t awkward per se, things rarely ever were with them, but the whole mood in the house had shifted once more.

Wesker closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on the top of his chair. Diana couldn’t quite discern whether that was from frustration, exhaustion, or if he was possibly in pain, considering how she noticed him wince at the ringing earlier. Perhaps it was a mix of all three. She couldn’t help but wonder why he had invited her over in the first place, because even if Sherry’s being there hadn’t been planned, his exhaustion seemed to her as the result of a few nights of disturbed sleep, not just one day’s events.

He cleared his throat then looked around the kitchen, his eyes scanning over every surface in sight, as though searching for something. Diana let her own follow the path his took, but nothing seemed out of place to her. The crease between his brows had deepened though, and it almost looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

When it was clear to him that whatever he was looking for was nowhere to be found, Wesker turned his gaze on Diana instead. “Will you stay tonight?”

Diana’s body almost betrayed her in letting a grin slip out onto her lips and make itself known to him; such a question shouldn’t have pulled that sort of response. Instead, she contained that treacherous smile and only sighed with a slight raise of her brows.

“I hadn’t planned to,” she said with a shrug.

She propped her elbow up on the table’s surface and rested her chin on her palm, leaning forward slightly – closer towards him. They only held eye contact with one another, and Diana couldn’t shake the thought that maybe he was actually in pain, judging by the tension tugging at every one of his muscles.

With that, she gave him a glimpse of her thinly veiled smile then added, “And you’re tired.”

Wesker let out a small laugh as merely an exhale while he nodded in an unhurried manner. That was for the best, he supposed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked, really. So, he looked off to the side again and let his eyes scan over the lounge room this time, cursing himself in the process as he tried to retrace the steps he’d taken since that afternoon.

“Do you want me to stay?”

His head snapped to look back at Diana and his eyes were instantly drawn to her own, locking on again for what felt like the hundredth time that night. How gently she had spoken caught Wesker off guard, but the question itself… He chewed on the inside of his cheek then sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yes.”

#writing.#pair: ewskers #oc: diana #aka 'uncle albert why does diana call you babygirl?'#setting: early october 1996. it's also referenced in 'but i would kneel for you' which takes place a few weeks later // name relates more #to the second part which i am around two thirds through rewriting but i'm not sure when that will be done !! hopefully not too long though #cause i made some decent progress on it today !! but it also relates to you know...her *seeing* him...and he's the captain of s.t.a.r.s.#you understand. but yes this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote in march last year. same with the second part !! they were originally two #separate fics but because they happen on the same night i thought i'd just split them into chapters instead !! they are both super special #to me because they cause a sort of shift in their relationship and make diana have a bit of a realisation in the next few days... so i'm #excited to share it when i've made jokes about it before !!! as always rbs and kudos are appreciated but no pressure whatsoever. i know i #have been super inactive and then pop back in with some writing even though i will most likely disappear again but i was posting it to ao3 #anyways and just felt like doing so for me !!

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todayisafridaynight · 2 years

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wait it’s genuinely so cute how ichiban loves dragon quest and i love how that’s probably why Y7′s an rpg

#snap chats #it's just so personal- really puts you in the headspace of ichiban....#game reminded me my bro bought me DQ8 and i still haven't played it.... oops...#anyways thats so cute #we're all ichiban wherein we just let videogame brainrot take over #referencing that one post that's like 'when i remember to take my meds i just see 'take your meds' in the yakuza font in my head' LMAOO #love the representation thanks rgg for letting gamers be seen #anyway like i said in the last ask i'm on chapter 3 and i stopped just before ichi and nanba were about to head to hello work #needed a piss break real bad cause goddamn the cutscenes get long #also?? i dont know why i held off on Y7 for so long ???#like i played rpgs before i dont know why i thought i wouldnt like it or itd be hard for me to readjust #but i love how the combat is- i love how despite it being turn based you still have to react fast sometimes #esp for QTEs and follow-up attacks from party members it's so good and keeps you on your toes still #ok byebye ill be back uhhhhh Who Knows

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industria-adastra · 8 months

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[Vampire Knight] If I'm to be reborn, I'll find you (again, again, again) - CHAPTER ONE: my clematis (hope died in the abyss) - [2/4]

Prev | Next

Summary: And in his hands, his flower wilts, and fades away.

There is not even a body left.

Note: Does anyone actually write VK fic in 2023. Is the VK fandom alive lmao

Would Kaname be like this if Yuuki died? Perhaps. He's a character deeply shaped by loss and hinges a lot of his desire to live or die on Yuuki. He also probably considered her 95% minimum as his own emotional support system. Kaname is very messed up lmao. Honestly, I feel like this was a better potential ending for Yuuki dying before his original plans were complete. (Sorry Kaname I'm sad about killing off my personal best girl too) At least I didn't make him go apeshit. (That would be more in line with my WIP Shizuka Hiou character study fic).

Like last time, I recommend playing Miyashita Yuu's cover of "Condolences, and Then Life Goes On". Ah, and the ao3 link.

Pairings featured: Yuuki/Kaname, Yuuki/Zero (mentioned)

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Yuuki (beautiful, wondrous, dying) is like ice in his arms, as if crystallising within the seconds before she shatters in his arms. The words she’d said (I love you), echo in his mind alongside the ringing in his ears.

Kaname stares down at his palms and finds them empty. Empty, empty, empty.

Yuuki is dead.

(And there was not even a body left)

There is a building scream in his head, and he’s all too sure his expression is more akin to a monster than a man. The ground quakes beneath his feet, rumbling a warning to nearby unfortunate fellows. And then, for a scant few seconds, it stops.

Kaname could practically taste the relief from the ants close by, thanking their lucky stars for the Kuran heir’s iron-clad control. But all iron rusts, and Kuran Kaname has been dealt a terrible, irrevocably horrible blow. It is only the calm before the storm. He crushes the maelstrom of fury building in his chest into a ball but doesn’t swallow it whole.

Silence… And then, unceremoniously, suddenly—cracks appear in the earth, a storm builds, and the trees groan. Kaname allows the hatred and rage to explode forth whilst still, he stares, blankly, at the space where Yuuki’s small body had once been. Stares, no longer feeling the lingering residue of her warmth. His legs feel numb.

(He is sure that the filthy rats who surrounded them the moment blood hit the water will not come out alive today. Kaname will most surely make it so it will become a reality.)

Suddenly, there is no more light at the end of the road. Suddenly, Kaname is nothing but a blinded man stumbling in the cold unforgiving darkness, grasping for a warm light that will never come. The sun is gone, and already he can feel the frost settling in. Feels it deep in his bones, feels it in his heart as if it might turn to ice at any moment.

With Yuuki gone, what was there to live for? His power builds, destroying everything around him with a frightening ease as he ponders this question. All his plans, all his work—ultimately, it had all begun for Yuuki’s sake. To create a world where she would be forever safe, forever happy (within the sunlight she had so adored, that he had taken away in a moment of selfishness). He had loved her to the point where he would’ve died for her (and he had planned to).

Yet now… She was no more. She was gone, gone, gone. And now he feels directionless, a boat lost at sea without a lighthouse to guide his way home.

(And with her had gone the warmth within his heart)

A storm rages violently around him.

Kaname stares at his empty hands, and makes a decision.

Everything comes to a standstill.

Kuran Kaname has always been a creature of patience, of control. But at this point in time, even he struggles to bite down and continue living—if only for a now nebulous goal that he brings to the altar of worship to someone beyond the land of the living.

He’ll create the world he had so desired for her. He’ll do so in her name, for the sake of preserving that world of light she had loved. Now, there was no need to temper his cruelty with gentility. Not when there was no one else to be gentle for. No one to shed the skin of a monster for.

(And perhaps if he does so, he’ll have an afterlife in her arms)

As always, the blood is bitter, nearly flavourless on his tongue, already flaking away into dust alongside the other bodies. As always, he has brought about a swift, violent end to his obstacles. The days continue to pass, and the skeletons continue to pile. He builds a kingdom of peace, brick by brick with offerings of flesh, bone and blood.

As always, he is alone, alone, alone.

(Goals were good. Goals stopped him from thinking too deeply, from remembering. From losing his way and sinking into the comforting dirt.

Soon, he’ll be done.

Soon, he’ll see her again.

Even if it’s only the never-ending dream of the dead.)

They say the king of monsters resides in a house of the dead, a house of memories.

As strong as he is, even Kaname can fall prey to sudden weaknesses.

Sometimes, when the desire swells to an unbearable degree, he crawls into the sheets of her bed—content to bask in her fading presence. For a moment or three, he can delude himself, can pretend that all is right in the world, as right as it always is in his dreams. Yet he dares not stay for too long, too afraid that one day her scent will only be covered by his own. That one day he will have nothing to remember her by but the gaping hole in his heart and soul. If he could, he would tie down those precious memories of her with chains; lock them down and throw away the key.

He hoards her items like a greedy dragon does with treasure, unwilling to part with a single one of them. Kaname has always been only so kind to a certain extent, and has only been the most kind to his most precious person. Years upon years passing by will slowly destroy gentility within anyone.

Again, he inhales the smell of her, feeling the exhaustion heavy in his bones.

His throat always seizes when it does so; it is always dry and he is forevermore wanting, forevermore hungry for the blood of someone no longer in this world.

(He wonders if this was how Rido felt after Juri's death. Never satisfied, always craving. Wanting, wanting, wanting.)

The bed is always cold when he lies on it.

They say the king lives in a house that’s withering away with time, still never changing in accordance with a rapidly developing world.

Every decade or so, he journeys out around the world. Seeing the sights, taking photos, and buying souvenirs for someone who never got the chance to see the full beauty of the world. One by one, these hollow memories fill his own bedroom, a reminder of what could have been.

In the world of beasts, society is ruled by power and fear.

On a throne above the rest, he is an ever-vigilant, watching eye—daring anyone to step a toe out of line. No one ever does but the most foolish, most beastly of them all. Even then, the punishment is enough for obedience to take root.

Kaname has always been good at being alone.

(He knows that they still follow him, but it is a loyalty and trust stained by fear, chipped away by the ever-growing walls around his heart. Grief makes monsters of men.)

The world of men is not quite so different from that of beasts.

It is in the boundary between the two worlds that he meets Kiryuu Zero again.

As creatures of the night, physically, they look the same as that fateful year in the academy—young, everlasting. But like recognises like, and Kaname spies similarity in the pallor of their skin, the cold steel of his half-mad eyes, and the apathy deep within every action. His clothes, if it were even possible, look messier than Kaname remembers.

Looking at him now is like looking at a mirror. He gazes into dull lavender eyes and cannot muster up to feel anything at all. What point is there, after all?

(They have both loved and lost)

“How have you been, Kiryuu-kun?” At this point, there is no use for false airs and pleasantries, but Kaname does so anyway, going through the motions of a long-remembered script. Kiryuu is the leader of the Hunter’s Association now, and it does no good to try and shatter the newfound peace between all on a petty whim.

The coldness of his gaze does not change, and neither does his stoic face. “Fine,” is all Kiryuu offers in response. A beat of silence, and then he states, “You’ve been busy.”

“No more than you have been.”

Paper slowly shuffles in Kiryuu’s hands, being sorted out one by one. Their stilted conversation is bland, no better than the time they had pretended to be friendly to each other in Cross Kaien’s school office. “There are always many things to attend to, even as there’s less vermin to exterminate.” Even the acid Kiryuu tries to fling does nothing more but fizzle and pop.

“Speaking of vermin. I am quite sure that you will soon find time for a vacation.” At that, Kaname turns to gaze out of the window, eyes fixed on a brown-haired pair down below.

The papers stop shuffling. “I see. Then I should start preparing for that time.” And with that, there is only silence between the two of them.

There is no lost love between the both of them, but at the very least, they can share a moment of understanding. (Of finality)

Perhaps Kaname feels kind today, revisiting the past. Or perhaps he is simply tired. Maybe that is why he leaves behind Artemis, lying on a faded prefect’s armband.

(She had loved him too, even at the very end)

And one day, when it is all said and done—the foundations laid, the kingdom strong—Kuran Kaname allows himself to unravel, wither, and fade away.

He wonders if she’ll meet him with a smile from her heart.

#my writing #angst #fanfiction #vampire knight #yuuki kuran #yuuki cross #cross yuuki #kuran yuuki #kuran kaname #kaname kuran #kiryuu zero #zero kiryuu #tw grief #tw depression #it's at least implied/referenced so I'll be safe about this kinda stuff via tagging #I hope I did do well portraying Kaname's grief and terrible coping mechanisms aka wholesale slaughter and reintroducing a monarchy #amongst other things #I liked writing the part about Kaname on Yuuki's bed and him meeting Zero again the most #but maybe the 1 reader who sees this might like another part better #also anon who told me my post was too long which one are you talking about please do tell me idk which one it is #anyways just like the last post #yume makes me go feral #eternal yume #this one did feature mentioned zeki but i didn't think it was enough so I'll use that tag for zero's chapter #which will be chapter 3 and is in the works #will zero be less depressed than kaname? probably #but it's not like he'll be any happier per se?#hate it or love it you have to admit yuuki is a very integral person to both of these men

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simp-ly-writes · 6 months

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Lasting Pictures: Up and Under (pt.2)

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Photographer!Reader

Summary: Signing the papers was one thing, actually going back and doing the work was another. Memories come hurling back at you as you try and navigate this new lifestyle while getting to know the members of your new task force- some warm up quicker to you than others but are your trials all for nothing? Or maybe, just maybe this new start has other possibilities for you as well....

Warnings: 4952 words, Slow burn, heavy imagery of anxiety attack and PTSD, descriptions of blood and swearing.

A/N: Hey ya'll thank you all so much for all the love on the first post, weird to see so many people liking my shitty writing. Anyways! todays chapter is dedicated to my fellow stranger @cosychick who made this chapter possible (TYSM again, seriously). On another note... I may have written a lot again... and have an outline for many more chapters... hope you guys enjoy this next part! let me know what you think~

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

The cheers surrounding the room are soon put to an end as the boys soon get ordered to return back to their duties on base as you and Gabby stay behind with Laswell. She opens your file on the table, flipping towards the back as she comments on your years of leave from the military. Your task force had all been promoted within the ranks and some were found less on field and more in strategy. You smiled at this newfound information, as it slightly fell when Laswell said how poorly they took your leave and lack of communication afterwards while tailing off on a few names that have you blinking your eyes quickly.

The room falling quiet once more, Gabby grasps your hand in her own- rubbing small circles into the back of it in an effort to comfort you. You squeeze it twice in response; awaiting Laswell to continue her commentary as a knock can be heard coming from the door, Price enters then closes it behind himself as he takes his seat back beside Laswell with his own paperwork in hand and places it on the table. He motions with a flick of his wrist for you guys to continue as he grabs for a pair of glasses and takes the lid of a pen off; beginning to flip through the sheets, signing every few pages while referencing others. Laswell continues to speak while opening a second file with your polaroid clipped to the front.

“Has your body fully healed from the incident?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Do you still take medication for it or any other symptoms you have experienced as a result?”

“Yes I do”

Laswell hums in response, flickering to the next page as you lightly sigh in relief and Gabby comments, “May I speak freely?”

“You may”

“They have made a full recovery, I made sure of it before contacting them…” Gabby looks over at you, happiness is found in her squished cheeks from smiling so brightly as she drops your hand to reach over the table for your papers, “...I recommend still going through with the fitness regulation test for formal qualities- but they would pass easily nonetheless.”

Price decides to lift his head and joins the conversation once more, “some practice missions with 141 before sending directly to the field would be of value to us all as well. Time is limited- I know-”

You smile slightly at his addition, nodding your head in agreement before finishing his sentence, “but a little team building never hurt nobody” you tease lightly back as John matches your smile before returning back to the work at hand. Gabby leans over, clearing her throat loudly to whisper in your ear, “So what type of team building do you have planned~?”

Swatting her away while covering your cheeks from your blush, John chuckles to himself as you shrink into your sweater, cursing Gabby mentally as Laswell gives you all a tisk with a small smile gracing its way across her features; her tone lightening.

“You will get along great with the team, Dice, from what I read and see here today. 0-700 tomorrow for your assessment and I want you to move on to base with the rest of the team temporarily to redevelop your skills for the imminent future. Deployment is set for two weeks from now. That is all, thank you both” Laswell finishes, collecting her belongings before tapping Price on the shoulder on her way out.

Stacking the papers into a neat pile; he looks between you and Gabby before sliding an unsigned document, tapping his finger to where he wants you to sign and handing you his pen. Glancing down at it, its weight is surprisingly heavy and the small engraving of 141 on the lid has you smiling, you look over the page- reading through each clause before signing your name at the bottom and sliding it back with a sigh.

Gabby slaps your shoulder with yet another cheer as she calls for drinks tonight that has you shaking your head at the idea. “I have my assessment in the morning scales, can’t be going out and doing that just yet.”

“Lame” Gabby states back childishly before asking if you wanted a drive back, you smile thankfully at this as you begin to stand from your seat. Knees a bit weak from staying in the same position for too long. Yet as your hand hovers over the door handle, a small call out from the table has you turning back to face your new captain.

“Welcome to the team Y/N”

“Thank you Captain”

Keys swing around Gabbys finger as you both make your way towards the parking lot at the back of the base. Walking through the halls and across the pavement; viewing all the helicopters and equipment tucked nearly away has memories sending goosebumps across your skin, nerves and excitement mixing together in your anxiety driven cocktail as you follow in Fish’s shadow.

Gabby clicks the small device twice as the car flashes its lights with a small honk. Yet as you begin to enter the vehicle a calling out of your name from another car has you smacking your head against the roof of the car and eliciting a loud groan as you rub the spot gently, turning to face whomever got you into this state.

Gaz smiles apologetically from the rolled-down window as he asks if you want help tomorrow moving your stuff on to base, he mentioned that your new captain already sent a message to the infamous groupchat you had yet to be added to. Smiling at the man's kindness you accept as he asks for your number. Walking up to his car, exchanging phones; you place your name alone in his as Gaz places a petrol symbol for himself that has you giggling when you read it. Tapping the top of his car in a sign of goodbye, he drives through the gates and away.

Turning back you see Gabby leaned against the car with a cheeky grin, “do I need to report anything to the council already, lieutenant?”

“Yet?! Do you honestly think I am getting with any of them, or that they would have any interest in all of this shit?” You reply while flinging your hands up and down your body, emphasising your statement.

“Well.. you and Soap looked to be getting cosy…”

“I needed physical comfort, you know this”

“Mmhmm”

“Gabby! I swear to god-”

“Mmhmm”

“Even with my last team, we almost never did any of that shit”

“Almost?” She teases back.

“Not like that Gabs! ugh!”

Gabby does not bother to listen to anymore of your protests as she hops backs into the vehicle, the engine roaring to life as you sit yourself into the passengers side with a huff, buckling your seatbelt before helping her to check the blindspots and give directions back to your place.

The drive back is peaceful after the hellish day you have had. Gabby flipped you off while driving away as your neighbour complained about hearing your cat moving about your apartment too loudly. Apologising you turned the key in the hole and entered, the space was dark with a small candle coming from the kitchen. Cursing to yourself for leaving it unattended, blowing it out you called for Spoons to make sure he didn’t hurt himself from it.

Checking the cat over in your arms and sighing out in relief, you hunched down slightly so they could move to your shoulders and motioned to get their medication before you started the debate of ordering in or cooking dinner for yourself. Opening the fridge you cursed to find it empty, resting your forehead against its metal door to cool your head, you felt for your phone the jean pocket as Spoons meows loudly in your ear.

Placing him on the counter and closing the door with your foot, you order delivery and feel for your wallet; walking yourself back into the living and falling onto the cushioned seat, feet pressed atop the coffee table as you threw a weighted blanket over yourself and turned the television on. Doctor Who played across the screen as you chucked at their antics and companions' poorly timed jokes, the doorbell ringing and a tip being served before you switched to the VOD for the football game.

Your team was losing severely as you whisper-yelled at the screen, afraid of getting a thorough beating from your elderly neighbour. You flicked it off before it finished and noticed that your plate was empty. Placing the containers in the fridge and washing your dishes in the sink, you see Spoons sleeping on the half-wall separating your kitchen from the dining room. Their belly turned upwards as light snores exited their body. Snapping a quick picture to show Ghost in the morning, you began your nightly routine.

Showering, brushing and flossing your teeth, alongside applying your moisturizers. You shuffled underneath the covers while doing some last minute scrolling through your phone. Rolling your eyes when you saw the endless stream of reels being sent from Gabbys personal account that had you switching your ringer off and placing it on to charge. Setting your alarm clock to sound you closed your eyes as your body jerked throughout the night, awaking in a cold sweat as only a few hours had passed before doing your best at returning back to sleep.

The loud sound of ringing gradually made its way across your ears as you groaned and blindly reached over to turn it off; you ended up swatting it off the nightstand, the loud crash had you sitting upright from the sound of it smacking against the hardwood floors. Being stubborn to get out of bed just yet, you reach across the room to pick it up and shut it up. Falling back into the covers you reach for your phone and smile seeing your parents’ name in the notifications, they wish you a strong return back with a string of emojis that has you shaking your head while replying, slightly regretting for introducing them to that submenu on the keyboard.

Stretching and rolling out your yoga mat, you do our daily exercises before setting the kettle to boil and heading for a quick shower. The mirror clouds over as you draw a small heart across its surface while scrolling for just the right song to start getting ready to.

Coming back out- refreshed you dig through the back of your closet to find parts of your old uniform that you didn’t have the heart to send down to the storage rooms. Placing it across your frame and looking at yourself in the foyer mirror. A tear slides itself down your cheek as you swiftly wipe it away. Spoons soon comes between your legs pawing to be fed as you lightly smile down at them.

Apologizing to your furry friend, you give them their daily medication and head out the door, to your car in the underground parkade. 06:10 reads on the dash as you drive back to the base from memory. While at a light you start a call with Gabby, hoping that she would fess up to what types of testing you will go through today, yet she gave you nothing much to your dismay other than some teasing as usual.

“Did you end up talking to Gaz more last night when you exchanged numbers?”

“No, I talked to my parent though.”

“Oh! I miss them, are they still single?”

“Gabs I swear-”

“Hey! Just an honest question…”

“Sure, sure.”

“Are you here yet?”

“Almost, about a block away”

“Okay good.”

“Everything al’right?”

“Oh yeah, Soap just keeps telling me I'm no fun now that he’s met you, butthurt honestly.”

“Well I have always been the funnier one.”

“Thanks, just what I needed to hear.”

“You know me- social skills, simply perfection…” you end with a giggle in your voice, “...okay im at the gate now, see you in a few.”

Pulling the car into an empty parking spot, you ended the call while hauling your work bag with your camera inside over your shoulder from the passenger's seat and take your metal water bottle with you. Locking the car with a click you walked towards the main building and picked yourself up a new badge. Wincing at your picture, you hide it in your jacket pocket as you make your way down the hall and towards the locker rooms to put your stuff down.

Taking in a deep breath, you made your way out to the fields and saw everyone standing in a circle, speaking in hushed tones before halting at the sounds of your footsteps nearning. Giving the group a small wave, Gabby came over and wished you luck with a large hug and kiss against your cheek before returning back to her duties. Laswell stood to the side, clipboard in hand as she began to look at her watch, anxious to begin and return to her stack of files as well.

Soap speedily walks his way over to you, clapping a hand on your shoulder and pulling you in to his side, he wishes you good luck and a few other words told in his native tongue that you didn’t quite catch before Ghost is shouting across the field, in what would appear an aggressive tone to any new listener.

“English, Jonny”

“Fuckin’ Britts you lot”

“Hey you! Don't assume my nationality you prick”

Soap looks at you wide-eyed and apologetically as words and curses fall out of his mouth like a waterfall. Gaz can he heard chucking off to the side as you pat Soaps shoulder and tell him that you were just pulling his leg. He nods his head and sighs out in relief while looking up towards the grey skies. Making your way over to greet the Captain and Ghost, they both offer you a firm handshake once more as you provide a wide smile back before heading towards Gaz sitting on a nearby bench beside Laswell.

Sitting beside him, he starts making small talk and eventually asks what you are doing directly after this. Looking towards Laswell she shrugs and reminds you of the team-building you promised to do before calling you to the starting line. Gaz makes a quick note for you to continue your conversation later as he shouts you a good luck as you make your way away. He sits up from the bench and moves to stand beside Simon and the others in line to the side.

Nearing the starting line, you notice a series of vertical obstacles ranging from a rope climb, an outstanding rock wall and a fence hop. Leaning your body to the side, you look further down to see a tire you will need to push alongside a series of pylons lining a large section of the tarmac. A long run, how great after all of that.

Shaking your head of the negativity, you closed your eyes and evened your breathing before sending Laswell a nod of your head, ready to tackle this course to the best of your ability. The sound of a shout coming from the Station Chief has your body moving faster than your mind as you hoist yourself up the rope and jump down to the other side.

Your body wavers slightly upon impact yet as soon as your knees steady once more you are running up the rock wall to boost yourself up, skipping half of it as you hear Gaz praising your technique while waiting running to wait for you on the other side. Using your feet and hands, you slip slightly from the lack of gloves or chalk before running down the ramp on the other side. Next you are sprinting over to hop over three sizes of fences as Soap claps loudly at the end telling you how many obstacles you have left.

Smiling to yourself in a layer of sweat, you side-hop the last small fence before whipping your forehead with the backside of your arm and collapse yourself to the floor in low crawl under the wire frames above. The mud finds its way into your boots and underneath your fingernails as you sigh happily at its cool texture on your skin.

Nearing the end you look ahead of yourself to see the long awaited large tire sitting flush against the ground. Picking yourself up to stand and shaking your hands violently while running over, you heave it up with a large grunt and push it to fall. Completing these repetitive actions tenfold before showing the tire over the designated cones. The long awaited run now awaited you as Price praised you with a large smile, yours matching his own as your feet began to pick up pace once more, now desperately trying to reach the end of the course in time.

The soon becomes in view as you see Laswell standing there, stopwatch in hand as Gabby appears beside her, jumping enthusiastically and pointing at your approaching frame. This momentarily distracts you from the pain you are feeling throughout your body as it takes everything in you to run the last quarter mile.

Yet as you near, the shouting of all your awaiting squad members, the sound of your blood pumping through your ears and your laboured breaths has you faltering slightly as your world spins and the finish line is closer than ever before.

Memories cloud over your senses as you can feel the sweat dripping off your neck and down your back. The feeling of cold metal combing itself against your skin has you shivering in your overheated state as your stomach begins to turn itself outwards.

You don’t notice yourself running across the finish line and slightly pass before a pair of arms wrap themselves around your frame and hold you steady as they shake your shoulders in an effort to make you become present.

You can feel a distant hand running circles on to your lower back as they brush the hair out of your eyes and behind your ears before resting their hand against your forehead, checking your temperature while making a hand motion in the other as the sounds of multiple boots rushing over have you swaying in their hold and holding your stomach as you kneel over. Knees falling to the pavement as you collapse on to your side. Eyes blurry as you see the rough contours of faces shaking your legs and holding your chin before they push you into recovery position as you throw up your guts on to someone's boots.

Apologising subconsciously in a gravel filled tone. The sounds of cries over power your being as you shrink into yourself, tears falling. But soon enough you feel laying down beside you as they tug you over and point to the clouds in the sky while you rub your eyes. The multiple pairs of eyes on you have fallen significantly as you take in a large breath and whip your eyes and cheeks with the back of your hand.

Looking over to your left you see Gabby staring at you smiling, remenist to what you would do as kids in your backyard, making stories out of all the clouds above and promises of your futures together. How times have changed as the pavement burned itself against the back of your head that still felt a bit fuzzy and your hands shook slightly against your sides.

As Gabby directs you to copy her breathing and calls for your bag to be brought over while searching for your medication side, she asks softly if you remember to take some yesterday. Eyes going wide you shake your head and groan to yourself while placing the back side of your hand to rest against your forehead, shielding your eyes from the sun beginning to poke its way through the clouds.

Doing your best to hoist yourself to a sitting position, your frame wobbles slightly as Gabby rapidly turns her body around and her face turns into horror. Her hands are filled as she watches you sway and almost crash your head against the tarmac once more yet thankfully an arm had you hoisted up against their side as they joined you on the floor.

Smiling over to Gaz thankfully he rubbed your shoulder and Gabby kneeled down to hand you a cup of water and a few pills. Looking at them in your hand, shuffling them slightly in your palm you threw them into your mouth, tipping your head back consciously as the water made its way down your system.

Gaz then handed you a pack of crackers that were obviously from an MRE. You winched in reaction that had Gaz giggling at your face before it fell when Fish just about punched him to remove it. Shaking your head slightly at the two and telling Gaz you know he meant nothing poor of it, you begin to take small bites out of the cracker while looking around to find where everyone else went.

As you stare down the field, you see Laswell and Price in a heated argument as the boys stand to his side, a few grand hand gestures are made as Soap flings his arms around wildly, almost hitting Ghost in the face that has him holding his limbs still so the Captain can focus.

Looking towards Gaz once more you ask simply, “Hey Gaz…” He hums to you in reply while his focus is on making sure that you continue to eat, “...Shouldn’t you be down there listening to what Laswell and Price have to say?”

“I think something more important came up that held my attention”

As you move to apologise, Gaz holds his other hand up slightly as you pause your next words. His eyes crinkle slightly as he stares eye level into your own, your mouth opens slightly at the sight of his smile so close to your face, yet you shake your head blaming it on all the anxiety still coursing its way through your system.

“Sometimes all we need is to sit down with someone so that the world can figure itself out.”

You humm in reply as clears her throat softly as you both jerk your bodies in reaction, forgetting her presence in front of you. She shakes her head and chuckles lightly at both of your reactions before saying, “what about some words of wisdom for yours truly, Garrick?” While fluttering her eyelashes.

Rolling your eyes you can’t help but chuckle at your best friends seemingly never ending sass as you ask, “Garrick?” While tilting your head to the side, staring at Gaz’s profile as he simply explains that it's his last name and you nod to this newfound information.

“My full name is actually Kyle “Gaz” Garrick”

“Kyle Garrick” You test the name out upon your lips as he gives you once of his famous smiles once more while squeezing your shoulder.

“My name sounds a whole lot better while coming out from between your lips”

Gasping at his comment, you blush widely in response while holding your cheeks with the palms of your hand in an effort to hide your growing embarrassment. Groaning while leaning forward, your head falls into Gabbys lap as she laughs once more at you while combing her fingers through your hair as Gaz slides his hand to rest against your back.

Mumbling in Gabbys secure hold about his touch not helping your state. You hear a loud laugh as he reacts with his hand apologising. The lack of his touch as you question the equally relieved and disappointed emotions flashes across your brain. Yet this bubble of a moment would soon be broken as the rest of the team returned around you.

Everyone eventually sat down on the pavement that had you mentally giggling to yourself, the ghost of a smile makes its way across your features as you notice the formation you all have made is reminiscent of the duck, duck, goose game.

Soap soon leans over to whisper in your ear, “tag, you’re it” while poking your shoulder jokingly. Wincing in an exaggerated manner has Soap quickly asking if you alright as you smile kindly in response, “I’m feeling a lot better now, thank you Soap”

He nods back in response before shifting his focus to Gaz, eyeing how close he is sitting against you now all the more obvious as Gabby moved herself to sit between Laswell and Ghost. Yet making no comments on his observations that has relief spreading across your skin. You did not need anymore teasing.

Looking back around the circle yourself, you notice as the Captain does a quick look over of you before nodding his head in approval and turning his attention towards Laswell who appears to be choosing their next words carefully as you feel Ghosts gaze settling hot against your profile.

Tilting your head slightly, you notice how he plays with his gloves and how soft his eyes appear behind the mask as if asking you a simple question to your state. Offering a small smile and nod in recognition you watch out of the corner of your eye as his fidgeting stops and he too eyes Laswells next words.

Clearing her throat, her eyes make their way around the circle and stop at you, “you have done well today Y/L/N, flying colours for the obstacle course and impressive return I must add. Yet after today…” Her sentence drifts off as she lacks the words necessary to continue, looking over to Price for help.

The Captain holds your eyes softly in his own as he finishes for Laswell, “from discussions earlier and your best interests in mind, Laswell and the team have decided that we won’t be putting you on attack for now.” A large sigh escapes your mouth as you feel conflicted on how to feel about not fully coming back.

Price continues, “until then you come with us on missions to gather intelligence for Fish under our watch.”

“I understand sir” you respond back, doing the best to hide your emotion in your voice as you see Soap shift himself closer to your side in noticing your slight change in tone. Your eyes are still being held by the captains as you see his eyes wince slightly at your response before his face returns to its professional state.

Slapping his hands against his knees with a throat clearing he stands up from the sitting circle and dismisses the meeting, turning around and walking his way back inside the main building. Laswell follows suit, dragging Gabby alongside her while they both compare paper-workloads.

Gabby turns around mouthing an apology for leaving so soon as you look back and see Ghost is now a bit further away with Soap as they appear to be chatting seriously over something together before Ghost locks him into a headlock. Shaking your lead and looking away all you hear are the sounds of them scraping one another in the background as you find Kyle waiting to ask you something.

“Do you want me to come over tonight?” Kyle questions softly while tilting his head, awaiting your response.

“To come over?”

“Oh ah-apologies, I meant to move your things temporarily on base”

“Oh,” You laugh lightly while shaking your head of the drifting thoughts you were having, “...yeah some help would be great Kyle! Thank you so much for the offer once more.”

“It's really nothing Y/N.”

“Still…”

“Well, how about after you treat me to some coffee together the day after?”

“I like the sound of that,” You say while doing your best to hide the ever growing smile spreading its way across your rosy cheeks as you notice Gaz smiling back at your adorable self.

“Why do you get to call Gaz by their first name and not me?! I thought I was your favorite based upon yesterday, what has this British man done to your head beauty?” Soap cries out while quickly walking back over to you as Ghost is nowhere to be seen.

Your head throws back in laughter as your shoulders rise and fall in swift motions. Gaz shakes his head at his squad member, shoving his shoulder lightly from around your frame with the hint of a smile tugging at the ends of his lips. While Soap remains completely serious in the matter, grabbing your shoulders lightly to make sure you are facing him when you respond.

“Okay then Soap…” Your voice deepens teasingly at the mention of his callsign “...so what would you like me to call you?”

You watch as his eyebrows raise and a smirk slides its way across his features that has you already groaning, predicting what he is going to say as you can hear Kyle laughing behind you at the interaction.

“Mhmm, well there are a number of things I would love you to call me…” You roll your eyes at this comment, “...Yet for now let's stick to Johnny.”

“Johnny?”

“You got it, Johnny.”

“Can’t promise I can say it with a scottish accent like you do”

“Humor me”

“Please don’t make me.”

“Just once, c'mon, promise not to record this one…”

“This one!”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit is right, Johnny” You respond in a horrible Scottish accent that has Soap reeling with laughter as he grips your shoulder and pulls you into a hug as Gaz laughs harder in the background. The flash of a camera can be heard as you call pause to face the sound to see Ghost pocketing his phone inside his black hoodie.

╰┈➤ A/N: so... what did you guys think? Have a favorite member so far? Thank you serious for reading all of this lol.

Lasting Pictures Series Masterlist

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aethes-bookshelf · 5 months

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we promised we'd save you || astarion/tav/halsin

This chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. I had to finish my biggest commission to date a few weeks after posting part one. It seems it took a lot out of me ^^"

But! I promised comfort, I deliver comfort. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Tav/Halsin

Warnings: implied/referenced past character death, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Summary: The first thing Tav felt was pain.

ao3 link || part 1

When they came back, Halsin carrying Tav’s dead body, stunned silence washed over the camp. The entire time the party knew Tav, they seemed indestructible. Larger than life, powerful and confident. But now, with their limbs limply swaying with Halsin’s movements, they looked like a little doll; fragile and lifeless..

Their skin was much, much paler than usual, dirty with dried blood and grime. They weren’t wearing their armor; it might have been lost or destroyed at the bhaalist temple. Without their shoulder guards they seemed so much smaller, dwarfed by Halsin’s broad shoulders.

‘What happened?’ said Wyll, eyes wide.

‘Orin happened,’ said Karlach. She had a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’

* * *

The first thing Tav felt was pain. Every single muscle in their body ached with that deep, crushing kind of pain that made even the slightest movement hell. Their head wasn’t doing any better. Their pulse pounded in their skull, each beat of their heart bringing an uncomfortable sensation in their temples. They were parched, their throat so dry and tight they were sure it would start bleeding at any moment.

They were hurting all over. But if they were hurting, that meant they were alive.

That realization slammed them right back into themself. The last thing Tav remembered before everything went black was being thrown onto the sacrificial altar in the middle of the bhaalist temple.

Tav opened their eyes. Above them was the fabric of their tent — they were back at camp. They were back at camp! Relief flooded their system. Their friends must have come for them before it was too late.

Granted, they couldn’t really move much because of the pain, but it probably wasn’t anything a bit of healing magic couldn’t fix. And a little pain was to be expected after whatever the hell Orin did to them. They would manage with a few more healing potions and Shadowheart’s help.

Tav groaned at the ache as they tried to adjust their legs under the covers. A puff of white hair suddenly came into their vision. It disappeared almost immediately when someone crashed into their chest with a relieved sob. Tav made a short, pained sound.

‘Shit,’ Astarion hissed and reluctantly moved away. He settled for holding Tav’s hand instead. ‘You made me forget myself there, my sweet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you must’ve been so worried,’ Tav said, their voice teasing and hoarse. They squeezed Astarion’s hand just a little bit tighter; he squeezed back. ‘Still, there’s no need to break my ribs over it, is there?’

Astarion was strangely silent for a beat too long. Tav tried to rise to get a better look at his face but decided against it after the pain pushed them back into their bedroll. ‘What, no witty banter? Are you okay, love?’

That made Astarion snort, unamused. ‘It’d be quite hard for me to be okay after you went and quite literally died on me.’

It was Tav’s turn to go silent. ‘...What do you mean “died”?’ They said after a few moments.

‘I mean “died”.’ He sounded annoyed. Still, his voice shook all the same. ‘You… you died. Orin killed you.’

‘Oh.’ Tav cleared their throat. They refused to let the true weight of that statement reach them. ‘Well, then I’m glad you brought me back. Though we’ll probably have to restock on scrolls of revivify. We’d been running low for a while now, anyway.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Astarion had to grab onto the fabric of his pants to stop his hand from shaking, ‘we couldn’t bring you back. We tried the scrolls, they…’ He swallowed, grief thick in his throat. ‘They wouldn’t work. We had to rush you to that blasted skeleton. For a moment I thought I’d…’

…lost you.

Astarion couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He felt as if he was on the brink of a cliff, staring down a bleak, lonely future. He’d rather not think about what his life would be like if Tav had not come back to him.

Tav wished to sit up and cradle Astarion to their chest. But they couldn’t; and they cursed all the gods, devils and hells for it.

‘Lovely, look at me,’ they said instead.

Astarion did as they asked. He was trying very hard not to cry again; he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left to spare.

‘I’m here now, okay? I’m still here.’ They tried to give Astarion a reassuring smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. He smiled back anyway.

‘I know, love. And am I not grateful for it,’ Astarion said, quietly. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. ‘Give me a moment, I have to tell Halsin you’re okay.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He’ll be now.’

The tent fell into silence when Astarion left it. Tav’s world shrank down to the pull of their muscles and the pounding in their head.

They died. Almost for good this time. The reality of that crashed down on them so suddenly they felt like they couldn’t breathe.

But they were still here. Was Orin dead then? Did the rescue party get her Netherstone? What of Gortash? Had any progress been made while they were out of it? Just how long had they been out of it?

Their racing thoughts stopped when the flaps of their tent parted and both of their lovers came in. Halsin rushed to their side, worry clear on his face.

‘My heart!’ He was by their side in an instant. He grabbed their hand, just as Astarion had before, and planted a kiss on it. He held it to his face like a drowning man would hold a piece of driftwood.

‘Hi,’ Tav smiled. ‘Glad to be back in the land of the living.’ They could taste the copper tang of blood in the back of their mouth.

Astarion settled next to Halsin and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, you big oaf,’ he said, doing his best to sound exasperated, ‘they’re okay.’

‘You say it as if you, too, haven’t been beside yourself with worry.’

Astarion scoffed. ‘Yes, yes, the pot calling the kettle black and all that.’ Despite his tone, Astarion’s eyes, locked on Halsin, remained soft.

Halsin rested his and Tav’s intertwined hands in his lap. ‘How are you feeling, my heart?’

‘Like I just died,’ Tav said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Everything hurts, I can’t really move.’

Halsin’s brow creased with worry. ‘Let me.’ He lifted his free hand and passed it over Tav’s body. The soothing coolness of healing magic did away with some of their pain.

Relief must have been clear on Tav’s face; Astarion perked up almost instantly. ‘I take it you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Tav adjusted their legs under the covers, this time without most of the pain. ‘I wager I’ll be up and about soon enough.’

‘You should rest for a few more days at least,’ Halsin’s voice was firm. Tav suspected there would be no changing his mind.

‘I know, I know.’ They sighed, bored already. ‘And thank you for the healing spell, honey.’

Halsin smiled. ‘The pleasure is mine, my heart.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Astarion. His head was resting on Halsin’s shoulder. The druid laid his free hand on the vampire’s lap. ‘None of the others knew what to do without you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, either.’

‘None of us did.’ Halsin sighed. ‘Until now,’ he said and gave Tav a look so full of pure, unfiltered adoration they had to look away for a moment.

‘Until now,’ whispered Astarion.

‘Rest, my love.’ Halsin’s voice was warm and soft. ‘We’ll be here, watching over you.’

Tav nodded and closed their eyes. Sleep came for them quickly.

Their head was no longer pounding.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x halsin #halstarion #bloodbear #hurt/comfort #my writing #bg3 #astarion x tav x halsin #astarion x reader x halsin #halsin x tav #halsin x reader

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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

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what the fire gave us (1) | jjk

You were born with a Gift that the world wanted to turn into a weapon. All Jungkook wanted to do was show you that you could find love, even in the dark.

🔥 pairing: shadow elemental!jungkook x water elemental!(f)reader

🔥 part of a spring offering collab

🔥 wc/date: 9.7k | june 2023

🔥 warnings: major character death (doesn't occur until part 2 but i'm being nice by warning you now; not jk or reader), minor character death, referenced past murder, smut (doesn't occur until part 2), unrequited love (not between reader & jk), reference to human experimentation (nothing is described in detail), persecution of supernatural people, mentions past war, blood, injuries/violence, they all definitely have ptsd, jungkook is a precious baby boy but he'll also kick your ass, JESSI !!!!!! JESSI STANS RISE UP !! JESSI IS THE COMEDIC RELIEF !!! (at least, i find her funny)

🔥 notes: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE WARNINGS. there is heavy angst, particularly in part 2. i hope that you enjoy this story, even with its cuts and bruises. think of it as stranger things meets avatar the last airbender 😂

🔥 more notes: i was supposed to finish this fic in may lmfao but y'all should know by now that there's no point in trusting me to do what i'm supposed to do. i'm sorry but i will probably never change 😭 ANYWAY. this fic is gonna be over 20k, so i decided to upload it in two parts in an attempt to maintain my sanity cuz this website is trash about handling long posts. i'm almost done with part 2, so it should be uploaded within a week (i swear to GOD i mean it). also, if you follow me on AO3 you'll see that i'm posting this fic in multiple chapters. that's cuz i like the formatting of AO3 chapters better than tumblr. the formatting fits the story better, too.

🔥 main masterlist / part two

🔥 what was jai listening to? cyberpunk - ateez

moodboard credit: @btscontentenjoyer

3 MONTHS

Lookout duty is hard on you. When it’s your turn to camp out on the roof and watch for potential threats, you complain that staying awake all night is hard. Most of the other runaways are night owls, but you aren’t. You need your beauty sleep, you joke. You can’t get comfortable on the roof, even if there’s a flat landing with pillows and blankets to keep you warm.

These are a few of your excuses, but you can’t bring yourself to tell the others the truth: you are scared.

It’s close to midnight when you hear the creak of the trapdoor opening. The likelihood of it being anyone other than the group of Gifted runaways you live with is low, but you can’t trust that the impossible wouldn’t happen. You’ve seen the impossible happen far too often.

Hopping down from the old milk crate you’d been sitting on, you crouch behind a giant bean bag with your bow and arrow ready. The harness you wear strapped around your torso holds your spare arrows. It digs hard enough into your shoulder that you form blisters if you don’t wear a thick enough shirt.

The fluffy pink hair poking out of the trapdoor makes you sigh in relief.

“Hey, kid,” the pink-haired man whispers.

He gently closes the trapdoor and walks with a hunched back toward you, careful not to expose too much of his body beyond the roof’s railing. The abandoned warehouse you live in is on the city's outskirts, with nothing for miles but empty concrete parking lots and overgrown plots of land.

Still, you never know who might be out there. Although the Red Pins have only inflicted pain from within their research facilities, all the runaway Gifteds know that the government employs more than one type of evil to hunt them down.

You try not to think about them, those scientists in long white coats that fall to their thighs and blood-red nametags pinned to their labels with names you often see painted on the walls of your nightmares. Lately, the frequency of the nightmares has lessened. It doesn’t feel like it, though, when you often wake in the middle of the night to your friends screaming in their sleep while they suffer through their own trauma. You wish the knowledge that the pain of being government lab rats is something you all share could be comforting. But, instead, it only makes you hurt more.

“Yoongi,” you huff, returning to your perch on the milk crate. Now your hands are all sweaty. “You should be sleeping.”

“Hi, Yoongi; nice to see you too! Thanks for coming to hang out with me!” Yoongi mocks your voice, clearly stating what he thinks you should have said. “Oh, no problem, Y/N. I just wanted to see how you were doing and hang out with my favorite kiddo.”

You scrunch your nose at kiddo.

“I’m not a kid.”

Yoongi leans over to rub his knuckles into your head. “Nah, you definitely are.”

Despite the lack of lighting outside, Yoongi practically glows. That’s always how it is with fire elementals. It’s like they absorb all the light and let it buzz inside them. Like fireflies, you’d once told Yoongi. He hadn’t found it cute to be compared to a bug.

“If I’m a firefly, then you’re a fucking fish,” he’d teased. You’d promptly summoned water from a nearby puddle to throw in his face.

For as long as you can remember, that’s how it has been between the two of you: fire and water. A push and pull. So different that you need each other to be whole.

You watch Yoongi get comfortable in the bean bag, his skinny limbs spreading like a starfish and his eyes lifting to the sky. In quiet moments like this, you would give anything to hold him. And not out of fear like you had when the scary men came to take you away from your parents. And not out of anger like you had to when you stopped him from blowing up the research facility they’d held you in.

No, you want to hold him and for it to be gentle, soft, and peaceful.

Like now, when the world is silent except for the crickets calling to each other in the weeds and the rustle of wind in the trees.

But he thinks you’re just a kid.

You’re not that much younger than him. But, if you put in the effort to look at your relationship objectively, you’d see that Yoongi’s paternal nature comes out with you and the other runaway Gifteds. He cares for you as an older brother would.

It’s not enough for you, though. It will never be enough.

“Is everyone else asleep?” You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your chin in your hand. When you speak, you look out at the empty field.

“Hobi sneezed and blasted a hole through the bathroom wall,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle. “So me and Joon found some supplies to patch it up the best we could. I think they’re all asleep now, though.”

“How is it Hobi’s the one breaking shit and Namjoon’s fixing it?” You press your hand against your mouth to muffle the ugly snort bursting from you. There’s very little to find funny in this life, so you cherish how your chest burns with fond warmth.

“The world’s all backwards.” Yoongi’s gummy smile lights up the night and tears into your heart.

The two of you fall silent once again. Moving slowly, you reach out to hook your pinky finger with Yoongi’s, a small smile forming when you feel his pinky wrap tightly around yours.

“Where are we gonna go, Yoong?”

He watches you with eyes heavy with sleep, determined to stay up with you even though he doesn’t need to. Initially, you thought it was because he wanted to keep you company. Now, you often wonder if it’s because Yoongi is afraid to sleep, too. He never speaks about his experience at the Labs; the other runaways have learned the hard way not to ask. Singed eyebrows don’t look good on anyone.

“I don’t know.”

You already knew this would be the answer, but it scares you anyway. Yoongi always knows everything.

Yoongi lets go of your hand to sit up in the bean bag.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers. He gently presses his palm to your jaw, cupping your face. You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch in your throat. “As long as we’re together, you don’t gotta worry about anything, okay?”

You stare at him for a long time, searching the bags under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

3 MONTHS, 1 WEEK

There’s a stream that cuts through the overgrown fields behind the warehouse. It’s man-made, flowing from a sewer tunnel beneath the cracked parking lot - and likely from somewhere else, perhaps connected to a lake beyond the woods at the property's edge. The separation between industrialization and the natural world of the unknown hurts your heart. You’d never felt longing until you found yourself inside a cage of cinderblock walls and concrete floors.

A rope of water whips across your face, drawing you from your thoughts of the woods. It’s muddy and makes your skin and clothes smell sour.

Though the air is still crisp and bites at the tip of your nose, spring came early this year. It takes minimal effort for Namjoon to draw more water from the soiled stream as it’s not frozen over like it should be. With a flick of his wrist, another rope of water hits you, this time across your chest.

“Aghh!”

“Pay attention.”

You lift your arm in enough time to block his next assault. The liquid rope freezes in the air before shattering into a thousand glimmering pieces, scattering jagged ice across the pale yellow grass.

“I’m tired of this, Grandpa.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the pop culture reference; you’re pleased he understood. Posed to speak, mouth already opening, he barely gets a sound out before another voice bellows across the field.

“WELL, THAT’S TOO DAMN BAD!”

Hoseok isn’t afraid to be loud. He smiles, all teeth and pink tongue, and throws his head back as he cackles. Everywhere he goes, he carries the smell of spring with him - cherry blossoms and morning dew that makes newly-grown pieces of grass stick wet against ankles.

You close your eyes and let spring overpower the sour smell of sewer water Namjoon has thrown at you for the past hour. It lets you forget how your skin aches with welts and bruises.

As Hoseok bounds toward you and Namjoon, a dark tornado spins beside him. When he gets closer, you can see Hoseok occasionally blowing a small gust of air toward the tornado. It appears to be made of smoke, a gradient of grays and blacks.

“Look at this,” your friend announces with a mischievous grin. “Me and JK learned a new trick.”

With a quick snap of Hoseok’s fingers, you and Namjoon watch in patient silence as the tornado begins to slow its speed. Almost gently, the smoke curls tighter and tighter until the darkness turns into a solid mass.

Jungkook stumbles a few times as he attempts to get his footing. His limbs continue to propel his body into a small spin.

Hoseok quickly reaches out to grab the younger man. Secure hands squeeze his shoulders, and then it’s only Jungkook’s head lolling about.

“Cool, right?” Jungkook’s voice is gruff, but his lips curl into a weak smile.

Namjoon lets out a long sigh. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Although Namjoon is right, Jungkook does look like the effort of his little party trick took a toll on his body; you can’t help but match his smile. Especially when his eyes flick toward yours. You told his gaze for half a second before Jungkook quickly looks away. His cheeks flush pink, but you’re sure it’s from the exertion of all that spinning.

“I think it’s really cool,” you praise the two while elbowing Namjoon in the ribs. With a grumble, your sparring partner returns to his previous stance a few feet away.

“We should go again. Just for a little while longer.”

Every muscle in your body feels stiff when you turn away from Hoseok and Jungkook.

“I hurt all over, Joonie.”

“Let her rest!” Hoseok adds to your whining. “All we ever do is practice fighting.”

“Sparring.”

Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at the younger man. “Whatever you want to call it. I find it to be fri-”

You stifle a laugh by pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as Hoseok is tackled to the ground by Jungkook. The two men roll around, all arms and legs, kicking up dead grass and dirt. A lot of howling and teasing laughter rings through the open air.

It isn’t until Jungkook is launched into the sky by a gust of wind you know comes from Hoseok, and lands roughly on his back, that the playful fight ceases. How Jungkook lands knocks all the air out of his chest, but he laughs once his lungs start working again.

“Ridiculous, all of you.” Hoseok brushes grass from his clothes. It’s futile; they’re dirty and ragged anyway. Try as you and Namjoon might to use your Gifts to clean the clothes; water does little when there’s no soap.

“I let you win,” Jungkook teases.

Still, he stands a bit further from Hoseok than he had previously. Not far enough for anyone to notice, aside from you. You notice although you don’t mean to. It’s hard not to when Jungkook keeps stealing glances, only to look away when you try to return his gaze.

“You did not.”

“Did, too.” His insistence makes you giggle.

“And how did that work out for you? Hmm? How does your back feel? I know you landed on that rock.”

“I-It, it doesn’t hurt.” Jungkook glances your way. His cheeks are still pink. “Would take more than that to hurt me.”

“Jungkook is impossible to beat.”

You startle at the gentle voice, spinning on your heels to see Yoongi approaching the group. He’s got a leather satchel strapped across his chest and resting at his hip. It bulges with what you assume are plants and fruits scavenged from the woods.

“Boy Scouts” is what Yoongi offered when you asked how he knew so much about surviving in nature. It was peculiar; nothing about Yoongi seemed like the type. He’s tougher, more steel than wood or earth. A bulletproof shield, you think. Broad and strong.

“Impossible?”

Your question is meant to be a tease, but Yoongi’s face remains stoic. Such a severe look only reveals itself when he assumes his position as your misfit group’s leader. It would be extremely attractive if it didn’t scare you.

“How can you fight shadows?” Yoongi deadpans. He stares into your eyes long enough to make your face feel hot, but you don’t look away.

“I…”

Yoongi hums at your lack of an answer. Suddenly, you feel unbelievably small.

“It’s not impossible,” Jungkook whispers. His head hangs low, long bangs hiding his face. The rest of his hair is tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. “I’m just as beatable as you, hyung.”

Something about Yoongi’s expression softens at the honorific. Formalities died long ago, along with many other traditions that once made Korea what it was. So many things died during the war - tangible and cultural - lives and ways of being. Now, the Republic is something you know your friends no longer recognize. Although it is not your home country, your heart aches for what it once was - something you will never have the privilege to experience because you arrived during the Restoration of the Republic - a fallacy of an era since the country was never restored to how it was.

That may be best. It is easier to mourn the loss of something you never knew.

In moments like this, you feel terribly inadequate - when you speak with broken Korean or struggle to understand the foreign politics behind why Gifteds are hunted, no matter how many times Namjoon patiently attempts to teach you. All you know is that, at least here, to be Gifted is not a death sentence, per se. Other countries’ governments have been far less lenient with their mutant population.

You’re simply seen as a science experiment to be tested on, poked and prodded, pushed until you’re driven mad, and then warped into whatever shape the government has the need for.

“You have no match,” Yoongi smiles softly at Jungkook with a shake of his head. “I do.”

Holding out his hand, a small flame appears in the center of Yoongi’s palm. It floats just above the skin, though he isn’t burned. You’ve seen Yoongi summon fire a million times from the heat of the air around him, and he never ceases to amaze you.

With a nod in Namjoon’s direction, Yoongi waits for a small rope of dirty water to splash against his hand. Namjoon is much kinder in his attack against Yoongi, only summoning enough water to extinguish the flame.

“Water will always win against me,” Yoongi admits. This time, he holds your gaze when he speaks. “It is my match.”

You feel something stir in your belly that migrates up your chest until it eventually threatens to suffocate you, nearly getting lodged in your throat.

“You would do well to continue sparring with Namjoon,” he says after a moment before turning to Hoseok and Jungkook, who have otherwise been silent.

It’s an order, even if Yoongi is gentle with his words.

With a sigh, you turn back to Namjoon. It’s difficult to stamp down the heat Yoongi always manages to trigger inside of you. You would compare him to fire even if it didn’t already run in his veins.

Drawing from the murky stream, you weave a ball of water between your palms.

“Let’s go again.”

While you spar with Namjoon, Yoongi leads Hoseok and Jungkook to the other end of the field.

You and Namjoon spar as though you are dancing. It’s a push and pull, your rhythms falling into harmony, even when one of you performs a surprise attack or a new move that hasn’t been practiced before. Perhaps it is because you both fight with water. There is a fluidity to it that the others don’t possess.

Occasionally, your eyes stray to where Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook have begun to spar. The three men do not dance. Instead, they are a fury of elements intertwining in chaos. The wind snuffs fire, Yoongi and Hoseok blasting each other incessantly. Shadows allow Jungkook to disappear before being hit by an attack, only to reappear right behind his opponent to go in for the kill.

And it would be a kill if this was real. You know Jungkook keeps a rather terrifying knife strapped to his thigh. You all carry weapons, though you don’t really need them. Even Jungkook, with a Gift that’s misunderstood and exceptionally rare, is never found without his weapon.

Out of all the Gifteds you’ve met on your way to safety, you have never encountered another who can manipulate shadows. So, there is truth to Yoongi’s statement.

Jungkook is terrifying, even with the wide, starry eyes he always seems to stare at you with. He’s quiet and shy, typically sticking to Hoseok. You assume it’s likely because you found the two of them together. Both were kept in the same room at the research facility in Busan. As unassuming as Jungkook may be, you’ve seen him manipulate shadows to wrap around a Red Pin’s neck. Those shadows twisted and tightened until the man crumpled.

You didn’t need to have the Gift of blood manipulation to know when his heart stopped.

It was one of the scariest moments of your life, even beyond the suffering you’d endured having lived in the research facilities since you were a teen. Before then, you’d never seen someone die. Even when Yoongi and Namjoon helped you escape, they shielded you from the worst of it. It wasn’t until the three of you came upon the newest facility that such horrors were unleashed.

Jungkook hates himself for it. You know he does; you typically make your bed beside his, and he cries in his sleep. Self-defense protects the body in the moment, but harms the mind and heart long-term.

You probably would have done the same.

For as tragic as his story is - or what little you know of it - Jungkook has an undeniably beautiful soul. Those horrors have yet to turn him cruel or his heart black. Even when he spars, you can tell that he’s being gentle. He holds back and doesn’t reach his full potential out of fear of hurting others, you’re sure. You can see it in how he bounces on the balls of his feet to keep his movements light and how his back muscles ripple beneath his shirt as it clings to his skin. A bead of sweat runs along his neck, over the vein that bulges from his exerting effort.

Something prickles under your skin. When you look up, it’s into those wide eyes full of galaxies you’ll never understand, are somehow okay with not understanding if it means you can continue to gaze upon them.

A small smile pulls the corners of Jungkook’s mouth up. His expression is short-lived, though, quickly falling as a bright orange flame licks at his ankles.

“Don’t let my words get to your head, Jeon,” Yoongi teases. “Impossible to beat, but easy to hurt.”

This time, you catch Yoongi’s eye. You duck your head when he winks at you, just in time to block another blast of water from Namjoon.

“Why is everyone so off today?” Namjoon grumbles to himself. You haven’t managed to successfully hit him even once.

“I’m tired,” you whine again, dropping a ball of water to the ground. Dead grass quickly soaks it up once it splashes. “We should check on Jessi.”

Your group's sixth and final member is tucked away in the corner of the warehouse on the top floor. It’s dark up there, though Yoongi’s everlasting fire, paired with the windows Jessi managed to open, gives enough light for her to work.

She has black grease smudged on her left cheek and across her forehead. Her long, thick hair is tied back into a ponytail, though strands have fallen out to frame her face. When you step closer, you hear her muttering, but you can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s not for you. She speaks, facing the black box placed in front of where she kneels on the floor. The floor can’t feel good on her knees with its bits of broken concrete and dirt. Everything hurts in this life; it hardly matters as long as you’re here and not there.

“This piece of shit,” Jessi hisses, running her hands across her face. It smears more grease onto her skin, but she doesn’t care.

“Not working?”

“Beep beep boop beeping all over the fucking place, then static. White noise and shit. Like it’s telling me to fuck off even though I’m the one fixing it.”

You hum, crouching down to stare at the box. It’s an old radio meant to transport messages back and forth. Perhaps left behind by the military after it had occupied this land while it bulldozed the vigilantes seeking to save Gifteds from the fate you all ended up sharing anyway.

Jessi tweaks a few exposed wires. Every time they spark, you flinch. Mini white lightning, it’s deadly for anyone but Jessi. She grumbles and continues her work with deft fingers calloused from toiling away at the stupid thing for months.

“I’m normally so fucking good at this, I swear to God.”

Frustration colors her tone, even if her expression and cursing didn’t already give her feelings away.

You don’t doubt her, though, and you tell her as much. Still, you know firsthand that it sucks when your powers don’t work how you want them to. As a technopath, fixing the radio should be easy work for her.

“There must be something wrong with it… Maybe the Red Pins did something to it?”

You don’t know anything about technology. Even with the phone you’d stolen off one of the Red Pins, all you’d gotten to do was look at TikTok and try to find out where your parents were before Yoongi made you destroy the device. The government had ways to track you. Technology was as much your friend as a stranger on the street.

With a sigh, Jessi leans back until she’s sitting flat on the grimy floor.

“Maybe? Fuck if I know. I think I’m getting close, though. I’m getting some frequency when I concentrate really hard, but I wanna fix it so it’ll work even without me.”

Your friend whispers the end of her statement. It goes without saying; each one of you knows the fragility of life on the run.

“Thank you for working so hard.” Even in the dim lighting, you can see her watery eyes shine. It hurts your heart, but all you can offer is a light squeeze of her shoulder.

Jessi shrugs. “It’s as much for me as it is for you.”

You watch her stand and brush the dirt from her butt, her joints cracking from sitting down too long. When you first joined this mutant crew, you would have followed behind Jessi to comfort her. But, after months of running and fighting, you’ve learned that sometimes solitude is the best healing method.

4 MONTHS, 2 DAYS

“What makes you think you’re ready? That any of us are ready?”

Yoongi watches you with catlike eyes from where he sits at the kitchen table. The chairs circled around the battered wooden table are mismatched and in varying stages of deterioration from being abandoned for so long. The one Yoongi sits in is metal, and he leans on its two back legs, his right foot pressed to the floor to keep himself steady and his arms crossed against his chest.

Although Yoongi isn’t raising his voice - he never does - you still feel like you’re being scolded.

“I know we are,” you challenge him. Your voice is steady even as your fingers tremble. To stop them from shaking, you squeeze your hands into a fist, nails biting at the skin of your palms.

You should sit down, but holding your energy in is hard. Instead, you pace the kitchen while Yoongi’s cat eyes and Jessi’s wide ones follow you. You feel like a lion looping its cage, the desire to run restricted and confined.

“How?”

“We can’t stay here, Yoong! We can’t. I can’t.”

The front legs of Yoongi’s chair slam into the concrete floor. He allows the momentum to pull him forward, landing his elbows on the table’s surface.

Looking at Yoongi hurts. You can tell from his face that the next thing he says won’t be pleasant. His lips are pressed into a fine line that curves downward slightly. It’s cute how he can pull off a straight-lipped frown, but not when it’s directed at you.

It’s been at least an hour of back and forth between the three of you. Jessi tapped out a long time ago, resolved to watch the tennis match of an argument between you and Yoongi rather than exert energy on a fight she isn’t committed to. Yoongi and Jessi have the final say in all group decisions as the group's elders. It’s another reminder of how you think Yoongi sees you as someone to take care of rather than an equal.

“Have you ever killed someone before, Y/N?”

You pause your pacing to stand in front of the table. Yoongi is an exceptional cook, managing to create delicious meals out of what little you all have to work with from the forest. But now, at this moment, you feel like you’re going to be sick from the food churning in your stomach.

“No.”

“No,” Yoongi repeats. He speaks slowly, like he’s mulling your answer over, letting it twist around his tongue until he’s satisfied enough with its taste to swallow it down.

Leaning forward, Yoongi presses his palms against the table’s surface. He spreads his fingers and stares at them. The two of you seem to trace over the scars that line his skin, little nicks, and slices that healed light pink or blazing white. You’ve never seen Yoongi naked, but you have seen a good expanse of his body when you’ve used your Gift to help the others get clean. From what you’ve seen, you know Yoongi’s entire body is littered with battle scars.

“I have,” he admits what you already knew, and the gravelly sound of his voice makes you shudder. “Jungkook has.”

You wince at the mention of the younger man, but Yoongi doesn’t give you a chance to speak.

“Do you want to ask him what it’s like to squeeze the life out of another man? He may have done it with shadows, but I guarantee he still felt it in his hands.”

Yoongi lifts his eyes to yours when the first tear rolls down your cheek. Concern wrinkles his forehead.

“Yoongi,” you start, but the pink-haired man shakes his head.

“I don’t mean to upset you, kiddo.” The pet name twists your gut tighter with frustration - even though Yoongi’s voice is filled with gentle adoration when he calls out to you. “But I’ll be damned if I let us walk into that forest without knowing where we’re going or whose claws we’re running into. The Gifted Commune is, at best, a rumor. At worst - a trap.”

You want to tell him that falling for a rumor or getting caught by the government is better than sitting in a concrete cage. The prospect of finding a community of other Gifted runaways who have managed to create a society safe from the evils you’ve grown up with means more to you than the fear of the unknown.

There’s no use, though. Jessi is nodding along to Yoongi’s words; the blank expression she wears when she’s upset already masks her face.

“I will not put you in a situation where you must kill or be killed, Y/N. I won’t fucking do it.” Yoongi clears his throat suddenly, and he looks away from you. You’re unsure, but think he might be blinking back unshed tears.

You’re still pissed, but now your anger is mixed quite prettily with debilitating guilt. You’ve never seen Yoongi cry, and you realize with a sinking feeling that you really don’t want to.

“It’s too fucking risky,” Jessi finally speaks. She presses her fingers against her forehead, massaging it slowly as she, too, looks for words. “The radio is almost fixed; I can feel that it’s close. Then we will have a clearer line of communication with the Commune. It doesn’t guarantee anything, obviously, but it’s better than going in without fucking knowing anything.”

There’s nothing else to say. Yoongi doesn’t look at you or Jessi, instead staring at something in the opposite corner of the room.

Jessi gives you what you think is a smile laced with pity - or at least an apology.

How can everyone be so content to stay in the warehouse? You’re a bunch of sitting ducks, hiding out in the same location for months, practically waiting for the government to send their agents to either corral you into laboratories again or exterminate you. You don’t understand how becoming a moving target is a bad thing.

But, ultimately, you don’t understand why Yoongi can’t just trust you.

With a frustrated huff, you twist around to hurry out of the kitchen. As you cross the threshold, Namjoon appears in the doorway.

“Oh, I need to ask you-”

You don’t mean to shove Namjoon with your shoulder as hard as you do, but you don’t have the patience to comply with whatever he expects you to do for him. Probably more sparring and training.

On the one hand, sharing your identity as a water elemental with someone else in the group is an affirming experience. On the other, it’s infuriating because Namjoon sees your potential and pushes you toward it - even when you fight against him.

Namjoon sputters something, and you hear Jessi convince him to drop it. Whatever else they have to say is lost on you; you’re no longer interested in entertaining the conversations of the “leaders” of the group. Part of you wants to find Hoseok or Jungkook to force them to commiserate with you, but something about dumping your sludge of emotions onto them feels wrong.

So you do what you’ve always done best: you repress.

It isn’t until a few hours later when you’re lounging on your makeshift bed with the only tattered book you kept from your facility (Fahrenheit 451, how fitting), that you give yourself over to the gnawing need to interact with other humans.

Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet, items that you can’t make out pressed against his chest.

“Will you cut my hair for me, noona?”

The out-of-use honorific flusters you, making your face burn under Jungkook’s attentive gaze.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me,” you insist, embarrassment ravaging your twisted stomach and fluttering chest. Something about the attention Jungkook gives you makes you feel nervous and giddy.

“It’s not very formal, really. It’s… respectful? I just… You are, it means,” Jungkook lets out a huff. He blows his bangs out of his face as his cheeks turn pink. “You are special to me.”

You duck your head, shocked by Jungkook’s honesty. It warms you in a way you’re not sure you understand, letting the feeling sit inside your chest rather than exploring it any further.

“Where I come from, we don’t have words like that.”

Jungkook gives you a shrug. Neither of you mentions that in Korea, those words don’t really exist anymore, either.

“But, okay,” you relent softly.

Jungkook stands beside the mess of blankets that make up your bed, holding a pair of scissors and electric clippers Jessi enhanced to operate on their own. Jungkook nicked them from a Red Pin on their way out of the research facility he’d grown up in. Hairstyling tools didn’t seem high on your list of items to steal, but they’d come in handy. Like now, with Jungkook’s bangs falling entirely into his eyes and his hair sweeping across his shoulders.

The pout Jungkook wears lessens slightly. He holds out the tools with an expectant look on his face. It’s cute how his bottom lip juts out, pink and chapped from nervously chewing on it. You’d overheard Namjoon scolding him for something earlier that morning before you went outside to patrol the grounds with Hoseok and Jessi.

Taking the items from Jungkook, you lead him out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. The lights sputter briefly before they fully brighten the small room. Jessi was excited to learn that her Gift extended to electricity as a whole, not just that within technology like computers and radios. With all your Gifts combined, the warehouse is liveable, almost comfortable.

Jungkook sits on the closed lid of the toilet, making you tower over him. He parts his legs slightly so you can stand between them as you run your fingers through his hair.

You spread your fingers and sweep his bangs up, exposing his forehead. It opens up his face more and makes him look older. Jungkook is handsome; there’s no denying that. You’re sure in another life, he could have been a regular college kid with a sweet girlfriend and a bright future.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook hums with his eyes closed, and his head tilted back slightly.

You don’t miss how he leans into your touch, completely pliable in your hands, as you massage his scalp and continue to play with his hair. It’s thick and soft, even without the proper haircare products to maintain the health of the follicles.

“How do you want me to cut it, silly?”

You reach for the hairbrush you keep tucked away in the bathroom cabinet. It takes a few more moments of silence while you brush out Jungkook’s waves before he finally speaks.

“Short. Cut it all off, please? It’s too hard to take care of now, and it gets in my face.”

“Don’t get mad at me if it comes out bad.”

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sound. “You always do a great job. You gave Yoongi hyung an undercut. It looks so good!”

At the mention of Yoongi, you feel your heart drop. Somehow you know Jungkook is here to make you feel better even if he hasn’t said anything about the argument, and he’s the one seeking your help, not the other way around. He’s a distraction - one you wonder if Yoongi sent himself.

It isn’t that Yoongi won’t apologize; you just never give him a chance to before you run off to lick your wounds on your own.

It’s the healing quality of solitude, you think as you prepare to cut Jungkook’s hair. However, this time, you’re not alone.

You can’t help but smile when Jungkook starts singing a song of his own creation as chunks of his hair fall to the floor. His song drowns out the static that buzzes in your brain like the fuzziness Jessi’s broken radio emits when anyone but her fiddles with it.

“This way,” you speak softly, not wanting to disrupt his singing as you press your fingertips against his jaw and under his chin to lift his face toward you. Your finger presses against the little mole just below Jungkook’s bottom lip. The angle gives you a better view of your work so far.

A small smile flickers on Jungkook’s face as though he’s trying to keep it down, but the corners of his mouth won’t listen to him.

“It feels nice. We don’t touch.”

You hum and nod your head, but Jungkook’s eyes are still closed. It’s true; kind touches are rare. Hoseok is really the only one who gives out hugs. Everything is tough all the time. There’s little room for gentleness, even amongst friends.

So you understand when Jungkook’s smile wins out, and he finally surrenders to the happiness your light touches along his jaw bring him.

4 MONTHS, 5 DAYS

It takes Yoongi three days to apologize.

Perhaps you should have apologized first, but you struggle to see how you could have done anything that warrants an apology. Yes, you feel bad for upsetting Yoongi, but his attitude toward you lately has rubbed you the wrong way.

During the three days it takes him to apologize to you, he seems to do his best to avoid you.

On the days you’re assigned to go on patrol with Yoongi, Jungkook accompanies you instead. You don’t mind having Jungkook by your side, you discover, even though you’re upset that Yoongi is behaving so childishly.

Neither Jungkook nor Yoongi talks much, but you learn that their silence feels different. Whereas Yoongi’s silence stems from feeling confident and content with not needing to fill the air with incessant babbling, Jungkook’s silence is awkward and heavy. He fiddles with the loose strings of his shirt, his reddened cuticles, and everything else. You don’t mind the awkwardness, though. It’s nice to comb through the woods with someone as powerful as Jungkook; you know there’s nothing to fear with him around.

The only weapon Jungkook carries is the knife strapped to his thigh. You, on the other hand, stay heavily armed. Your fingers tighten around your bow. When you twist your torso, the harness that holds your arrows digs into your shoulder. You also have a knife, though you are honestly afraid of close combat. A gun would be even better, but ammo is difficult to come by. It’s easier to collect your arrows after you’ve shot them, although you haven’t needed to yet. Since finding refuge at the warehouse, no one has discovered your group.

Apparently, all your friends are willing to keep testing fate. You aren’t interested in pushing your luck. Jungkook doesn’t comment on the group’s plans for moving forward - or lack thereof. Something tells you that he’ll do whatever Yoongi and Jessi tell him to do.

Still, going on patrol with Jungkook does a decent job of preventing your thoughts from straying toward your argument with Yoongi. Your hands brushed together a few times as you walked side by side, and you could practically feel Jungkook’s brain shortcircuit from the contact.

Part of you thinks he has a crush on you, but the more logical part of you knows he’s probably shy. The kid has gone through a lot in life. Not everything is always about you; you try to remind yourself. Yoongi doesn’t even want you. Why would Jungkook?

On the third day, bright doe eyes don’t greet you at the edge of the woods, just as the sun is kissing the sky for the first time. Instead, sharp cat eyes hold your gaze when you lightly jog over.

“Good morning, kiddo.”

Yoongi wears dark shorts with tattered edges cut from a pair of old jeans and a plain t-shirt the color of the forest in spring. It’s not warm enough to wear what he’s wearing, but fire elementals run hot like you run cold.

“Hi,” you say, voice a bit stunted as you hold your jacket tighter to your body.

You’ve foregone your bow and arrows today; you may or may not have snapped your bow in a fit of frustration that may or may not have anything to do with Yoongi ignoring you at dinner the night before. A knife and your Gift will have to do, but you feel it is enough. Namjoon insists on learning how to use your Gifts and weapons in tandem. For double the defense, or so he says.

Carrying a knife seems ridiculous when you know how to choke someone with their own spit without touching them.

Once you’re within arm’s reach, Yoongi offers his hand to you. He holds it as though he’s going in for a handshake. Yellow-orange fire licks at his palm and swirls in tendrils around his fingers and wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he makes a slight grunting sound and wiggles his fingers, beckoning you.

It’s impossible not to cave. A prickly feeling tingles down your arm, beginning somewhere in your chest and eventually settling in your fingertips. A tiny hurricane of water stolen from the moisture in the air circles around your hand just as the fire does Yoongi’s.

He lets out a pleased sound when your palms glide across each other. You hook your thumbs together, using the momentum to spin your hands around until your fingers are interlaced and pressed into your palms. You both squeeze your hands once, twice, three times in a heartbeat before pulling away. By the end, the fire and water have disappeared.

When you meet Yoongi’s eyes, the warmth of the fire in his palm has transferred to his gaze. There is an apology in how you release each other’s hands. The handshake holds secret words of friendship and reassurance between you.

The two of you stand in silence for a bit until Yoongi tilts his head in the direction of the woods. You nod in response and follow Yoongi along one of the many patrol paths your group has established.

There’s never anything in the woods besides small animals like squirrels and rabbits, but everyone feels better knowing there is a consistent patrol of the area, just in case.

“So,” When you look at Yoongi, his lips twist into a light smirk you absolutely do not like. “You and Jungkook.”

“Me and Jungkook what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Just seems like you two been hanging out a lot.”

“Yeah, because you were fucking ignoring me all week.”

His smirk drops into a stern frown, but Yoongi continues following the path. He walks slightly ahead of you with his hands clasped behind his back. It feels like he’s taking a leisurely stroll through a garden rather than going on patrol in the woods for government assassins.

“It was immature and irresponsible of me, and I’m sorry for that.”

Forgiving Yoongi is too easy. It’s the way the morning sun shines through the canopy of trees above you, casting streaks of light against his fading pink hair. The way he carries himself with confidence is gentle and comforting rather than arrogant or misplaced. It’s how he looks at you; you know he would do anything for you.

“It’s okay,” you finally concede. You scramble a bit to fall in line with Yoongi again. “I was being dramatic.”

“Life is one big drama, isn’t it?” Yoongi muses with a chuckle. It’s a question he doesn’t expect an answer to, which is good, considering you’ve got something else buzzing around in your head.

Well, fuck it. You’re just gonna say it.

Heart pounding, you eventually find it in you to say, “I still think you’re wrong.”

After a moment, Yoongi hums in acknowledgment of your admission but doesn’t offer anything else. It’s better than nothing, so you tell yourself to be content with all that he offers.

“Anyway…” You don’t want to drop the subject, but Yoongi’s question is nagging in the back of your brain now - a nagging question you now have a gnawing desire to know the meaning behind. “Me and Jungkook can hang out without it meaning-”

Before you can finish your statement, Yoongi slaps his hand against your mouth. The calluses on his palms are rough against your chapped lips, and his skin is sweaty. His free arm comes around to the front of your chest near your collarbones. He draws you against his chest so tightly you can’t move.

“Don’t talk.” His breath is hot against your face, and his voice is almost indiscernible.

You give a tiny nod before locking your body completely still. You hold your breath, straining to hear what Yoongi might hear or see what he might see. There’s nothing, just the usual sound of life in the woods - birds chirping, small animals scurrying in the brush. You don’t see anything either.

You can only focus on the frantic pounding of your heart and the calm beat of Yoongi’s against your back. How he can be so relaxed when he thinks there might be danger in the woods that you can’t even see is unreal.

Slowly, Yoongi takes a step back away from you. He holds a finger to his lips and silently mouths for you to stay where you are. Everything inside you screams to disobey as you watch Yoongi disappear further into the woods, the thick trees swallowing him whole.

But you don’t. You stay put, fear rooting you to the ground even though your body desperately wants to follow.

What lies beyond the thicket of trees? What is dangerous enough that Yoongi wants you to stay put but not so dangerous that he believes he can take it on alone?

Just when your resolve is about to crumble, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Barely breathing, you turn your head to watch a dark spot glide across the forest floor. It’s two-dimensional, not an object but a presence creeping along the ground.

Suddenly, the spot grows. It spreads, turning its shape from a flat, uneven circle to a thing with tendrils sticking out of it, each new tendril moving independently. You gasp when one of the tendrils creeps up your leg. Despite being two-dimensional, you can feel the darkness. It’s firm and cold, like a snake slithering up your body.

Every inch of you trembles as the strange darkness slowly spreads across your body. You squeeze your eyes and hold your breath. Perhaps this is the thing that Yoongi saw, a phantom stalking the trees. But now you’re left behind to be absorbed into its darkness, eaten alive.

You’re startled when the cold disappears; instead, strong arms pull you against a firm chest. Warmth envelopes you, and when you open your eyes, you see familiar ones looking back at you.

“I got you,” Jungkook murmurs. He has you tucked under his chin, and he tilts his head down when he speaks to you. You shiver as his lips lightly brush against your forehead.

“Where did you-”

“Shhh.”

Jungkook’s heart isn’t steady like Yoongi’s had been. On the contrary, it’s beating rather furiously. You can hear him attempting to regulate his emotions, taking in mindful breaths and exhaling in a way that tickles your skin.

You don’t know how long you stand there pulled against Jungkook’s chest. After a while, your breathing matches his until you fall into a gentle rhythm that makes you sleepy. The adrenaline is making you crash, your body hardly strong enough to hold yourself up after panicking so severely - still panicking. Luckily, when you lean into Jungkook, his hold on you tightens.

In another situation, pressing your fronts together would have flooded your body with heat. You can feel all of Jungkook like this, from the bulging muscles of his chest to his thigh pressed slightly between your legs from how he holds you up. But fear of the unknown and Jungkook’s clearly distressed state prevent those other thoughts from materializing.

Jungkook’s body doesn’t relax until Yoongi appears around the corner of a large tree. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, and for a second, Yoongi looks around at the clearing you're in as though he can’t see you.

It isn’t until Jungkook lets go of you that recognition flashes in Yoongi’s eyes.

“There you are,” Yoongi murmurs to the two of you. He looks like he rolled around on the ground, little pieces of leaves and sticks caught in his hair and stuck to his clothes. His left knee is bleeding from a few superficial scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

Yoongi looks at Jungkook before he answers your question, which irritates you. “I tripped when I rushed in, but it was nothing. Just a large fox I heard making noise back there.”

A fox is likely the largest animal in the woods, with no bears or wolves in the area. Still, you don’t trust Yoongi. You can pick up on the charred smell coming off of him. He smells like a barbecue, which means only one thing…

“Have you been practicing turning yourself invisible?”

Jungkook ducks his head down but no longer has long bangs to hide his face. It takes a second for your brain to process Yoongi’s question - and the change in the topic - but Jungkook is already answering him by the time you figure it out.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he says softly. “It’s more like… an illusion.”

Yoongi hums and motions for the two of you to start walking. You’re returning to the warehouse, you realize, even though you only just started the patrol route.

“Yeah, I can… adjust the lighting, I guess? To make it seem like you can’t see me. Or, us, this time.”

Jungkook gives you a small smile when you whip around to look at him.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook repeats. He draws his bottom lip between his teeth and wiggles it like he has more to say but doesn’t want to let it out just yet.

The three of you walk in silence until you reach the warehouse. When Yoongi walks ahead of you, you can tell he’s limping, even as he does his best to walk normally.

“He’s okay.”

Jungkook stands beside you in the field behind the warehouse, watching Yoongi reach the backdoor.

“He’s bleeding.”

Jungkook’s ears are pink when he responds, “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s lying to us.”

Jungkook absentmindedly runs his fingers along his bottom lip. It droops as he speaks through a pout. “Maybe. But I trust him, even if he is.”

It’s a strange thing to trust someone who is lying.

All you can do is nod. All you can do is accept that the people around you are doing what’s right because, aside from them, there is no one and nothing you can trust in the world.

As you approach the warehouse, Jungkook curls his fingers around your wrist to stop you. He watches you with the same wide-eyed look he gives everyone, though something about this time feels different. His expression is more open and vulnerable. He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to hurt him.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologizes softly.

“But you didn’t?”

Your eyebrows crease your forehead, trying to recall what you may have done to make Jungkook feel like you feared him. Sure, his sudden appearance in the woods was startling, but he’d brought you a feeling of comfort and safety - not fear.

Jungkook doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets go of your wrist as shame warms his cheeks, but he doesn’t look away from you. The timidness is still there. You can see it in how he chews on his bottom lip. Still, his eyes take on a more guarded, hardened expression for a split second, and then…

He’s gone.

“What the fuck?” You mutter to yourself.

Now that you’ve seen the darkness before, your eyes quickly notice the spot on the ground that creeps and grows into odd shapes, slinking along the grass before taking form up your legs, curling around your arms.

It’s Jungkook. You knew it in the woods, somewhere deep down. Your fear for Yoongi’s safety - and your own - prevented you from processing the situation. But now, as the darkness envelopes you again, you know what to expect when you close your eyes and open them to see Jungkook’s broad chest as he crushes you against him.

“You never showed me before.”

Maybe it’s weird that you’re still clinging to each other, but Jungkook is warm and solid, and his heartbeat guides yours into a slower rhythm.

“That’s because it’s creepy.”

“Well, I think it’s cool. Even though, yeah, you kinda scared the shit outta me.”

Jungkook lets out an embarrassed whine and squeezes you tighter. You knew he could command shadows but hadn’t realized he could become one or move within them. Sure, the tornado trick he’d done a few times with Hoseok had been cool, but you’d always thought he was merely swirling the darkness around himself. You hadn’t realized he was the darkness.

Honestly, it made him all the more terrifying and equally as endearing.

“I just had this… feeling something bad was happening…” Jungkook whispers into your hair. “I needed to check.”

“Good thing it was only a fox.”

Jungkook nods in agreement; you know he believes it more than you do.

“I’m just happy you’re safe.” You can feel his cheek press against the top of your head for a moment before he finally releases you.

There’s a feeling there as Jungkook leads you to the warehouse. He laces his fingers with yours, and you can’t help but hear Yoongi’s question on a loop in your head.

You and Jungkook?

4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS

“What if they think we’re the feds and feed us false information?”

“We’re too stupid to be the feds. It would be obvious.”

“I don’t know… we all escaped the government, so they must be pretty stupid.”

“What if they’re the feds?”

“Shit, I never thought about that.”

“They’re not the fucking feds.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Can all of you please just shut the fuck up?”

The six of you crowd around the radio on the kitchen table. Jessi shows you how to operate it, which flip to switch to activate the microphone, and how to adjust the volume. You’re all muted for now. When Hoseok goes to flip the switch, Jessi smacks his hand out of the way.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly, turning in her seat to get a good look at all of you. “No one talks.”

“But-”

“No one talks.”

Five heads nod at her command, including Yoongi, which feels very satisfying to you for some reason.

Details of the Gifted Commune somewhere beyond the woods traveled by word of mouth. Coordinates and radio frequencies were exchanged in hushed tones between the Gifteds who dared dream of a life beyond the Labs. You’re sad to admit that you were never one of those Gifteds. It wasn’t until Yoongi helped you escape that you even realized escaping was an option, so brainwashed into thinking the Labs were all you had. You were in a new country, stumbling through an unfamiliar language, taken from your family. Sure, you’d learned enough to get by over time - but missing your adolescent years made you feel hopeless.

Jessi is the only one who had communicated with the Commune leaders in the past when she and another Gifted managed to break into a control room in the Labs she came from.

That’s why she’s the one to speak into the radio that you find operates much like a long-distance walkie-talkie. You’re glad it’s not you. She introduces herself, her whereabouts, and her credentials with an even voice you know you could never replicate.

Despite the distrust you’re all afraid of, Jessi’s previous connection to the Commune makes it easy for her to request to speak to the Commune leader, a healer named Kim Taehyung.

Sitting with your fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly your knuckles are beginning to ache, you lean forward as though you can get closer to the gentle voice that floats from the radio’s speakers.

Taehyung doesn’t sound anything like you’d imagined, though you aren’t sure what you were expecting, to be honest. Maybe someone with a rougher voice made harsh by the trials of life as a fugitive of the Republic. Instead, he’s soft as he asks Jessi how many there are of you and what your coordinates are. This man, already larger than life even though none of you knows what he looks like, is patient as he gives Jessi instructions on how to reach the Commune.

“I can assure you,” Taehyung speaks, and you don’t know what he’s about to say, but you find yourself already believing him, “You will be safe here. It won’t be a short trip.” That makes your gut twist, but you focus on his following words. “But there are abandoned shelters along the route to find refuge in. The nights get terribly cold.”

Namjoon scribbles some notes down on a worn piece of paper. It’s been written on and erased to add more notes over the months you’ve been at the warehouse since there are only a few pieces of paper between the six of you. There’s a small hole in the middle of the page where someone erased too hard - or too many times, you suppose.

“Thank you, Taehyung-ssi.”

The line is quiet for a moment. Jessi’s gaze shoots up to glare at Jungkook’s interruption, but Taehyung speaks before she can chastise the younger man.

“Anything for my dongsaeng,” the man on the other side of the radio states.

You don’t know him, so there is no way to tell if the subtle lilt to his voice indicates affection, but it seems like it as the two men use polite terms no one ever uses anymore. It’s old-fashioned and reminiscent of a time lost to all of you.

Jessi steers the conversation back to planning the group’s journey to the Commune. Excitement makes you jittery as you skip out of the kitchen, the men - aside from Yoongi - following after you. The boring stuff is what follows, and you’re all content to let the leaders discuss that stuff.

“Do you think we’ll be able to do it?” Hoseok clasps his hands together, occasionally squeezing them. When he speaks, he keeps his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

Namjoon shrugs at the same time you respond, “We have to.”

PART ONE - PART TWO

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #a spring offering collab #wtfgu

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bachissidehoe · 4 months

Text

it goes around again - nagi s.

chapter 6 of 7 in the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 7.

synopsis: nagi seishiro, the fan favorite of the band, doesn't seem to put in any effort at all. especially when it comes to showing up on time for an early morning photoshoot. but when y/n goes to track him down, he has other things in mind besides getting out of bed.

warnings: smut; multiple orgasms; riding; half asleep; semi-coercion; clit stimulation; fem!reader; submissive!reader; minors DNI.

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c 2.3k

Leading up to the last few shows of the tour, manager Mikage Reo booked plenty of interviews and photoshoots for the up and coming band. The growth they’ve experienced since bringing y/n onto the official team has been substantial, suddenly reaching wider audiences and being featured on multiple news and radio stations, and offered performance showcases on talk shows. As Reo put it, it’s important that they end the tour with the world wanting more of what Blue Lock has to offer, which will put them in a great position to announce a new tour for next year that will reach even more of an audience.

That means that unfortunately, the band is exhausted. They’ll play a show, be expected to attend an afterparty, and then wake up early for an interview before another show. Today is no different, though it is their last long day before the end of the tour. Reo has planned an early promotional photoshoot for them, which means being prepared for transportation hours before the actual appointment.

“Where the hell is Nagi?” Reo barks, trying to make some final checks before the band members’ hair and makeup appointments.

“I haven’t seen him all morning.” Y/n looks around, following Reo with her clipboard.

“I haven’t heard from him since last night.” Isagi chimes in.

“Same.”

“Yeah, me neither.” The other band members agree. After last night’s afterparty, everyone returned to their rooms and fell asleep, including y/n, who can’t even remember if she saw the band’s backup guitarist at the party at all.

“He’s probably still asleep.” Bachira looks over y/n’s shoulder at her pre-shoot checklist.

“You’re probably right.” Reo sighs, squeezing the bridge of his nose as if to relieve a headache. Nagi Seishiro can be a handful, sometimes he acts like a little kid with how often his manager has to take care of him. “I’ll have to go fi-”

“Don’t worry Reo, I’ll find him.” Y/n volunteers, figuring Reo could use some extra help in a moment like this. He’s always the one who picks up the pieces of the white-haired boy’s laziness, it’s only fair y/n offers to take some of that off his plate. He seems stressed enough anyway.

“You don’t mind?” He asks.

“Nope, not at all.”

“Everything y/n has left here I should be able to take care of in time.” Bachira offers, taking y/n’s clipboard from her.

“Sounds good y/n. Thanks.” Reo smiles, handing her Nagi’s room key. Even in the most stressful moments he maintains his sweet smiles and kindness. He could convince anyone to like him.

“No problem.” She says, hurrying out of the room and whipping out her phone to check on the hotel room Nagi’s staying in. She’s positive he’s only sleeping, all she has to do is wake him up and force him downstairs.

She knocks on his hotel room door, leaning her ear against the door.

Nothing.

She knocks again- but still nothing.

She sighs, unlocking his door herself and letting herself in.

“Nagi?” She calls for him.

His room is still dark, only a small streak of sunlight peeking in from the gap in the curtains.

“Nagi Seishiro?” She calls again, peeking her head around the corner to see him sleeping soundly under some crumpled covers. He doesn’t seem interested in changing that either.

“Hmmm.” She sighs, walking up to the edge of his bed. “Hey.” She taps him on his blanket-covered shoulder.

“Mmm~” He groans, barely responsive to her attempts to wake him.

“Sei.” She uses his nickname, trying to stress the importance of her arrival in his hotel room.

“Reoooo~” He whines, mistaking y/n for his manager. “C’mere.” He groggily reaches toward her, lazily grabbing her shoulders and pulling her forward.

Surprised, she loses her footing, falling forward into the bed, unable to use her arms to block her fall in time.

“Ugh- Nagi-” She groans. “What’s-”

He wraps his arms completely around her waist, holding her close as he rolls around with her trapped against his chest. Suddenly, y/n finds herself as Nagi Seishiro’s little spoon, with his chin resting on her head and his eyes still closed.

“Nagi?” She questions, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. “It’s not Reo- it’s y/n-” She says, wondering why he’d be trying to spoon Reo in the first place. He must be having a dream or something.

“Seishiro! You gotta get up!” She says again, louder this time. He has a tight grip, that’s for sure. His muscles tense around her, it’s so clear how toned his body is even just from feeling his chest against her back. At the same time, the way he cuddles her is so soft and sweet, despite her being completely unable to escape.

“Mmmm~ no.” He replies in a tired, raspy voice. Y/n feels her cheeks heat up, but she can’t tell if it’s from frustration or arousal from how pretty his sleepy voice sounds. “Missed you last night, wanna have you now.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/n huffs, blowing a loose strand of hair away from her face. She can’t exactly use her hands to move it herself.

“You can take me now right? Just real quick.” The sleepy guitarist rasps.

“No- what? Nagi? It’s y/n. What do you mean?”

“Hm?” He finally flutters open his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Oh, hi y/n. You’re not Reo huh.”

“Uh, no.” She answers. “Now come on, we gotta go.” She pushes on him again.

“Mmm, can’t right now.” He pulls her tightly against his chest, pressing his crotch into her ass, his morning wood so prominent that she can’t help but feel the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Why not?” She finds herself squeezing her thighs even tighter together, the idea of being this close to Nagi’s hard cock making her start to feel the intensity of the situation. After her situation with Rin, y/n had decided to stop getting in everyone’s pants and focus on her job, so it’s been a good couple months for her. Even though it’s ultimately been better for her focus, she can’t help but find herself easily aroused in a situation like this.

“Didn’t get to fuck Reo last night, so m’horny.” He says casually, too casually.

Y/n can’t even begin to unpack that statement, and she doubts Nagi would be able to explain it to her.

“Look you can fuck Reo later if you want, we got to go.” She says, her voice shaky.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, sleepily rolling over her. He hovers over her, his half lidded eyes shining in the small bit of light that peeks into the room.

His proposition is so normal, as if he just goes around asking anyone to fuck him like it’s the most casual question in the world. But y/n wonders, as she looks into his eyes, her heart completely stopping under his soft yet intense gaze, if that is how Nagi gets so many girls into his bed, and apparently Reo. She doesn’t know if, in her current state, in his current state, it’s even possible to say no to him.

She nods, unable to force her eyes off of his pretty face. He’s known as the fan favorite of the band- he never says too much but the world goes crazy when he does. Any time Nagi has a solo, the crowd is so hype that Isagi wrote a new song, It Goes Around Again, specifically to show off Nagi’s vocal range. In fact, that’s the song they’re supposed to be doing a photoshoot for today, to promo the song and select one to be the cover for the single when it’s officially released. Therefore, it’s absolutely crucial that Nagi’s there.

But in y/n’s horny haze, she can’t be bothered to care anymore. She’s desperate, she needs something, it’s been too long. She can’t believe that out of all the band members, it’s Nagi she hasn’t gotten to. He’s so damn pretty, such a gorgeous boy.

“Nice.” He answers, dipping his head to meet her awaiting lips. His kiss is so soft and sweet, yet desperately dominant at the same time. He slips his tongue between her lips, holding his body over hers as he explores her mouth.

She completely lets him take the lead, still surprised by his advances at all. Her tongue collides against his, creating a layer of glistening wetness on both of their lips, their saliva mixing against their tongues. He pulls her tongue further into his mouth, clasping his lips around the wet muscle.

She can’t help but moan out as he sucks on her tongue, his teeth grazing her taste buds. He moves to her lips again, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth to suck on that next. It’s messy and wet, his saliva coating her lips and chin as he makes his mark on her.

“Wearing a lil skirt. Cute.” He says, reaching one hand under her skirt to locate her panties.

She finds her breath catching in the back of her throat, lifting her hips to let him slide her soaked panties down her legs. He’s not one to engage in much foreplay, not when he’s selfishly concerned with getting himself off since he so sadly missed out on it last night. And right now, y/n doesn’t care at all about how she’s treated. He could fuck her and refuse to get her off for all she cares, something about Nagi Seishiro makes her want to thank him for even considering her worthy of his cock.

He slides his shorts down too, freeing his bothered cock and gripping it in his hand. He doesn’t even give y/n time to look down and see it before he’s forcing it inside her, shoving his thick shaft between her tight wet lips before her body can process the feeling.

“Wow~” He praises. “So wet. Feels nice.” He grunts, warming his cock inside her pretty pussy. He lets it rest in there, feeling her tighten and pulse around him as he bottoms out completely.

He ruts against her, his body falling on top of hers as he lazily stimulates the base of his cock with her hole.

In almost no time, she feels him filling her, surprising her with a thick load buried into her walls.

“Fuck~” He gasps, quickly pulling his cum-soaked cock out of her filled pussy.

Y/n looks at him, confused. It’s not that it’s bad that he came fast or anything, she just didn’t get to prepare for it to be over.

Lucky for her, he’s far from finished with her perfect little hole. He holds his body upward, gripping his soaked cock and pumping it, riding out his high with the overstimulation of his hand.

“Ah, there we go.” He breathes, his cock hardening once again as he immediately stuffs it back into her.

“Nagi- hmhhh-” She groans, feeling full again as his dick becomes fully erect inside her.

“Don’t worry, will put the next load in that pretty mouth.” He breathes, burying his face into her neck, his hot breaths tickling her sensitive skin.

In a swift motion, y/n suddenly finds herself flipped upright, with Nagi flat on his back below her.

“You can ride, yeah?” He asks selfishly, his lazy, sleepy body too tired to continue his light ruts into her.

“Mhm.” She answers, leaning forward as she desperately grinds her clit onto his fully exposed body.

“Let me- you ride.” He demands, reaching to circle two fingers around her clit so she can focus on slamming her hips onto him.

Her legs burn as she rides him, picking her entire body up just to force it back down on his thick shaft over and over, the room filled with her heavy breathing and moans. Nagi expertly swipes his fingers on her clit, letting her grind on them as he brings her closer to her edge.

“Need it- please Sei-” She begs, slowing down her movements so Nagi can focus on getting her off.

“So selfish~” He chuckles, his fingers moving faster on her clit as she begins to tighten around him, the knot in her stomach threatening to burst.

“Mm~ fuck- I- cumming~” Her orgasm finally overwhelms her, her body shaking as she releases over his already cum-soaked cock.

“Pretty.” Nagi hums, holding her hips as he thrusts upward into her tired body, eager to finish himself off as well. “Getting close.”

Y/n can only whine and moan, letting him pound into her repeatedly as he twitches inside her. “Off now.” He instructs, pulling her nearly limp body off his cock.

She allows her head to fall on top of him, just in time for his second thick load of the morning to shoot down her throat. She ensures she swallows it all, not letting a single drop escape.

With a breathless sigh, Nagi pats her lightly on the head. “Thanks for that.” He says casually, as if she did some sort of simple favor for him.

“Um, yeah.” She wipes her mouth, still blushing. “I understand why you get bitches.” She jokes.

“I understand why you’ve been through the entire band.” He fires back, though he doesn’t even mean it as an insult or a snarky comment. He’s so hard to figure out, that Nagi Seishiro.

She can’t help but laugh. “We really have to get to this photoshoot.”

“Sure, but you’ll come back to fuck me again tonight, yeah?” He asks.

She blushes. “Yeah.” She says, looking at the floor.

“You know I can’t sleep when you’re calling my name.” He hums, quoting the song y/n’s been desperately trying to get him to a photoshoot for.

175 notes · View notes

punkshort · 8 months

Text

Chapter warnings: language, angst, references to SA, depression, PTSD, some mild sexual talk

A/N: I live nowhere near the places we talk about below, I relied heavily on google maps

Chapter Seventeen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

July 2004

Denver, CO

It's been a little over a month since you and Joel fled Kansas City. Joel was determined to create as much distance as quickly as possible, focusing every day on walking as far as your legs would take you. At first, he was terrified of Amy's people coming after you when they inevitably found Keith's body. Once it became more and more unlikely that you would cross paths with them, his anxiety shifted to the terrain. There wasn't much cover between Kansas City and Denver, it being mostly open plains, so it encouraged Joel to constantly keep moving. He told you these excuses to keep you traveling west, towards the mountains, but what he didn't say was he wanted the distraction. For both you and for him.

Every spare moment he had he found himself reliving that horrible night, the things you went through while he failed to keep you safe. While fucking Amy was coming onto him in that shitty little office. He had never told you about his interaction with her. He knew right now it could be the very thing that would break you. He didn't see the point in it anyway, nothing had happened, but in the interest of being completely honest, he planned to tell you one day. Just not now. Right now, you were an absolute mess, like a fragile flower that had been ruthlessly stomped on and was desperately clinging to life. It broke his heart to look at your sullen features every day, features that used to be filled with so much joy and warmth. He couldn't even remember the last time he saw you smile or saw a spark in your eye.

Once your shock wore off, he found out very quickly that you didn't want to be touched. That first night when he made camp, after he got you out of the city limits and back into the forest as deep as you could go in the pitch black of night, he tried to hold you, tried to talk about what happened. But you had jumped at his touch, scrambling away with your eyes wild, nearly tripping over your feet. You apologized to him, and you forced yourself to let him hug you, but he could feel how tense you were in his arms, how uncomfortable you were, and his heart shattered. You had been through enough and he wasn't going to force you to do anything, even if it killed him every time he caught himself instinctually reaching out to you at night. He left it in your hands to make the first move. When you were ready, he knew you would. But it's been over a month, and you hadn't tried to touch him, even to hold his hand or to tap his shoulder to get his attention. He knew not to take it personally, that it wasn't his touch, but it was any touch that you despised. Even though he knew this, his heart and body still ached for you.

You would talk to him, although it wasn't ever playful or flirty anymore. Mostly just about survival. He felt like you were distant and detached, like you were on autopilot. You never mentioned the assault, and he didn't bring it up. He knew it was his fault. It ate him alive, and he carried that burden with him every day. Selfishly, he felt like he was grieving a loss. The loss of the person you once were. And he was terrified he was never going to get you back.

Joel did the only thing he could think of, and that was to give you space. He knew you needed to process your trauma and he didn't want to force you through it. So, he gave you space, but he physically never let you out of his sight. He was never going to make that mistake again. He wouldn't ever tell you that even when you said you needed to pee, he would follow you just enough to keep an eye on you. He definitely would never tell you that when he followed you, he watched you sob quietly into your hands for a few minutes almost every day, at least once a day. Most often he had to fight the urge to cry himself. It destroyed him that you kept your emotions hidden, that you didn't feel comfortable expressing your grief to him.

Before you entered the community in Kansas City, you had said to him "us or them, right?" And he told you yes, it was always the both of you against the world. It was beginning to feel like there was no more "us", that his broken promise destroyed everything. Even when you had to kill someone for the first time, it ripped you apart, but you still went to him for comfort. You sobbed in his arms until you ran out of breath, and then he tried to fix it for you. Afterwards, you were distant, but he was able to draw you back out. This was not like that time. Nothing he did worked, and his grief was morphing into fear. Fear of losing you forever.

"Joel?" you quietly called out behind him, and his head snapped around to face you, desperate for anything you offered him.

"Can we rest soon?" you asked, shifting your backpack on your shoulders. "It's so hot, and I -"

"Yeah, 'course, let's stop here. There's a stream I saw nearby, I can still hear it. We can fill our canteens and wash up a bit," he was too overeager, he knew it, as he tried to give you anything you wanted. You flopped down on a broken tree trunk and hung your head between your knees. He rustled around in his pack until he found some unopened trail mix and a can of chicken. He reached both out to you, waving them low to the ground so you would see. You saw the chicken and brought your head back up to meet his gaze, your jaw hanging open.

"When did you get that?" It was never a favorite of yours before the world ended, but you developed a taste for it over time, growing sick of the same old granola bars and soup.

He couldn't help but smile. You weren't the happiest he’d ever seen you, but some color returned to your face, and that was progress in his book.

"Found it in that rest stop yesterday. Wanted to surprise you," he shook the can and the trail mix, urging you to take it from him. You were so eager that your fingers accidentally slid along his, and his heart leapt into his throat. For once, you didn't flinch at the contact, or maybe in your excitement you didn't notice, but either way he had a hard time wiping the smile off his face.

He sat on the forest floor across from you and ate some beef jerky, admiring the trees. According to his map, you were on the west side of Denver now, in the middle of a huge cluster of mountains and forests. He noticed you seemed more at ease in nature. More protected. He had been to Yellowstone with Tommy in his 20s, and he had fond memories of the trip. Tommy always used to talk about it, and even had pictures framed in his office. He didn't mention it to you yet, but his goal was to take you there. Maybe it would give you peace the way it brought him peace in his memories. He remembered there being tons of campgrounds. He liked to imagine finding a safe and secluded area and fixing up a cabin to have a wraparound porch with blue shutters. He knew it was a long shot, but it was the one fantasy he allowed himself to have.

"We've been walking for so long, and it's been so hot," you said, breaking the silence. "Do you think if we find a place, maybe we can stay for a bit? Until the weather breaks?" You looked up at him from your food, eyes hopeful. He could never say no to you. Yellowstone can wait.

"Yes," he said, "I'm sorry. Next time we find a shelter that's in good shape, we can lay low for a while."

"You don't need to be sorry," you said, picking at your trail mix.

"Yeah, I do." Joel replied, his eyebrows bunched together. You regarded him carefully, reading between the lines.

You didn't want to bring it up. You didn't want to think about it. You shifted your weight uncomfortably on the tree and looked at the ground.

"You wanna go wash up in that stream? I'll keep watch, don't know if we'll get another chance for a while," he said, changing the subject immediately. You could see the pain he was hiding behind his eyes, you saw it every day. You wanted to reach out to him, to help relieve his guilt, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Not because you thought it was his fault, although early on you admittedly did blame him. It was too much to process back then. Your own grief and trauma was taking precedence, and you had to let Joel work through his emotions on his own. The weight of what happened was holding you down so intensely that you couldn't bring yourself to take on one more thing.

"Yeah, sure," you said, finishing up your food and digging around your pack for some fresh clothes and a small towel.

Joel did exactly as he said he would. He stood guard while you washed up, your backs to each other as you peeled off each piece of clothing and cleansed the skin underneath it, before putting fresh clothes over and moving on to the next area. You weren't comfortable being fully exposed, and he understood that. You never really were comfortable with it in the woods. But it still made his chest ache. Like something was stolen from you that day, and he missed it.

It wasn't until three days later that you found a small cabin. From the looks of it, Joel guessed it was part of the national parks department, a place for service rangers to rest or call for help when on patrol. It only had a bedroom, a half bathroom, a small seating area and a kitchen that looked more like a breakroom. But it was secluded, and it was safe, so Joel agreed to set up camp for a while.

He was pleased to find a fully stocked first aid kit, no doubt courtesy of the government, as well as a reasonable amount of dried goods and clean linens. There was one rifle locked in a cabinet which was easily broken into with his hunting knife, just in case he needed the spare weapon. He wasn't sure how long you would end up staying there. He didn't want to rush you, there was no point. Nothing was out there for you, anyway. But he always imagined finding you a house bigger than this.

As Joel was taking inventory of the goods, you walked around the small space. There was a huge map above the couch that you examined. It was a close up of the forests you were currently in. You trailed your finger down the map, looking at how far the two of you had walked in the past month. The hilly terrain made your accomplishment all the more impressive. Joel had been watching you out of the corner of his eye when you spoke.

"We're close to the Wyoming border," you said, your eyes lifting towards the top of the map, but the state in question was cut off. Joel cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I know. Hey, I was thinkin'," he began, flattening his hands on the kitchen counter, "What do you think 'bout headin' to Yellowstone? You ever been?" You shook your head.

"No, what's in Yellowstone?" You turned to him now. His chest ached at how tired you looked.

"Well, nothin' really. I was there once. With Tommy, when we were younger. It's lots of land, forests, hills. Figured it might be safe," at the word safe, his eyes turned down to look at the counter and his fingers brushed over the keychain in his pocket, unable to look you in the eye. "Lots of campgrounds, some real nice ones. Maybe we find someplace we can call home."

You don't know why you never considered the destination before now. You always imagined the pair of you would always be on the move, always looking for something that inevitably didn't exist. Joel had always been so adamant about having a goal: finding your parents, finding Tommy, finding a community. He had never suggested just stopping and living your lives together, alone.

"What about Tommy?" you asked him quietly. Ever since he mentioned finding his brother all those months ago, you knew it was a lost cause. He could be anywhere; he could be dead. In all likelihood, he probably was dead. But that wasn't for you to decide. Joel needed to come to that conclusion on his own. And it finally seemed like he did.

"I ain't gonna find Tommy, it was a dumb idea in the first place," he said, a fist clenching as he rapped his knuckles on the counter. "We need to find someplace before winter. I don't wanna be out in the snow like last year. I just-" he kept his eyes cast down and gave a small shrug, "I just wanna be with you."

You turned away as you felt the tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You knew he was trying, and you knew the way you pulled away from him hurt. You tried. You really did. But every time you hyped yourself up to touch him, to let him touch you, you felt the bile rising in the back of your throat. It wasn't fair, it didn't have anything to do with your feelings for him. But it was like your body just couldn't accept it, that you physically recoiled from the slightest touch, and you couldn't control it. Your mind wanted to reach out and comfort him, but your body kept you firmly planted on the worn wooden floors.

"That sounds nice," you told him, looking back at the map. His eyes shot up at your words, his eyebrows raised. Relief flooded through him, hearing that you liked his plan. Maybe one day, many years later, the two of you would find a community or other people to trust, but for now, it could just be the two of you.

"Alright, then," he said, straightening up. "In the meantime, let's stay here awhile. Wait for this heat to break. I figure we can make it to Yellowstone by October if we really push. Before the snow flies," he chewed his lip and glanced at his watch. There was enough daylight left to go gather some wood for a fire and maybe even shoot a rabbit, if he was lucky. But he didn't want to leave you alone.

"You wanna come with me, explore the area a bit?" he asked, trying to sound casual. But you knew what he was doing. He hadn't left you alone for a month. You didn't push back, you let him be protective. It was the least you could do if you couldn't bring yourself to open up to him. You nodded and leaned over to pull your pack back on.

"Sure," you said, slinging your bow over your back and followed him out the door, back into the summer heat.

The next few weeks were pretty much the same. The two of you scavenged for food in the mornings, before the heat became too oppressive and the animals hid. You spent your afternoons reading or napping while Joel skinned whatever animal you managed to kill that day and gathered wood and dead brush on the outskirts of the cabin, never straying far and finding excuses to come inside and check on you every so often. There was a small creek about a 10 minute walk south of the cabin where you would both go to fill up your canteens in the late afternoon and take turns bathing. Then he would start a fire to cook the meat while you prepared some instant potatoes, or rice, or anything else you found. Your dry and canned goods were starting to run low, so you used them sparingly. After you ate, you spent some time outside, soaking up the sun or reading. Joel would always stay close, sometimes walking a circuit around the cabin or reviewing some more detailed maps of the area left behind by the park rangers. At night, you shared the small bed, guiltily clinging to the edge of the mattress to create as much distance as possible, holding back your tears until he fell asleep.

It must have been the end of August by now. The days were hot, but the nights were cool, indicating fall was around the corner. You remembered Joel's plan to reach Yellowstone by October, so you knew your time at the cabin was coming to an end. You were fine with that. The cabin served its purpose. It kept you dry and safe so you could both rest your bodies before the month-long trek ahead of you. And with your food supplies dwindling, you knew it was time to move on. Joel didn't say anything, didn't want to push you into leaving, so you brought it up on your own, asking him when he thought you should head out. He seemed surprised that morning, expecting you to want to stay longer. He searched your eyes to make sure you weren't bringing it up because you felt he wanted to go, that you wanted to leave on your own volition.

"Why don't we plan on leavin' in a couple days?" he offered, and you nodded, finishing up your bowl of blackberries from a bush you had found not too far from the cabin.

"I was thinkin', I saw some deer at that creek few days ago. Maybe I can get us one and we can make some jerky. Should only take half a day to cook it. It'll give us somethin' til we find more food on the way," he glanced up to look at you. "You wanna come with me? Bring that bow of yours, it's quieter." He already knew the answer, but he always asked you, anyway. He wanted to give you the choice. If you ever said no, which was rare, he would just skip hunting and make do until the next day.

"Yep, sounds good," you said, getting up to rinse your bowl in the sink with the rest of the water from your canteen. "I need to refill these, anyway." You placed them both by the door and walked into the bedroom to change, closing the door behind you. Joel's eyes remained glued to the door as he tried to stifle his sadness. Any time he thought you were making progress, something happened to remind him how damaged you were. Something like closing the door to change in private made him rub his chest. You never would have bothered before. He was beginning to think he would never get back what he had with you. That those animals stole something from you, and he fucking let them. He swiped at the corner of his eye before he stood up and gathered his things. He was checking to make sure the rifle was loaded when you came out of the bedroom, slinging your bow over your shoulder, ready to go.

As you approached the creek, he held out a hand to his side to signify that you should be quiet and slow, watching your step to make sure you didn't potentially scare anything away. You got to the creek and didn't see anything, so you stooped down to refill your canteens, then followed Joel to a boulder not far down on the side of the creek, posting up to wait for any deer who might come to get a drink on the warm summer day.

You sat in silence, watching the sun move above the trees and the sunlight dappling the forest floor. Joel kept his head turned towards the creek, but you stared directly ahead into the forest, lost in thought. You nearly jumped when Joel cleared his throat as quietly as he could, not wanting to touch you, to get your attention. You looked and saw a doe about 15 yards away, standing in front of the creek, flicking her ears and glancing around hesitantly before bringing her head down to the cool water. You handed Joel your bow and he took it without looking, eyes fixed on the deer, as he leaned forward on one knee and loaded an arrow, drawing back. You saw a flutter of movement in a bush next to the doe and let out a soft gasp as you watched a baby fawn stumble out from the thicket, legs still shaky.

You reached your hand out and placed it on Joel's shoulder, stopping him from shooting. He didn't realize he was so touched starved until the contact nearly made him fall over. Keeping his fingers on the arrow, he disengaged the string slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides. He sat back next to you, taking the pressure off his knee and tried not to chase after your touch when you let your hand drop. You both sat and watched the deer together, as the new life stumbled forward to hide under its mother while she continued to drink. It started as a single tear, and then before you knew it your cheeks were damp from the steady flow as you silently cried. Joel turned his head to look for your reaction when the fawn tucked its long legs underneath its body to rest against the doe, only then noticing your tears.

"You alright?" He whispered, face etched with concern and his fists clenching at his side to keep from reaching out to you. You just shook your head and buried your face in your open palms as a shaky sob erupted from your throat. You rocked back and forth, your face still hidden in your hands, while Joel struggled with how to help, his arms reaching out, hovering in the air, and bringing them back. Then, to his surprise, you dropped your hands and lunged yourself forward into his chest, your face pressed against his tanned neck and your arms wrapped around his torso as your body shook. He immediately pinned you to him, his arms holding you as tight as he dared, his cheek resting on the top of your head. He slid a hand up from your back to cradle your head, your tears running down his neck and chest. He leaned back against the boulder, pulling you with him. You clutched the front of his flannel in your fist, your face still streaming with tears, wailing against his chest while he rocked you back and forth. His eyes were burning with the tears he refused to release, desperately trying to be strong for you.

"I got you, sweetheart, I got you," he murmured in your hair.

"I'm so sorry, Joel," you cried, burying your face further into his neck as fresh sobs wracked your body. He shook his head fiercely back and forth, even though you couldn't see him, and two tears made their way down his face.

"Don't you dare apologize, you did nothin' wrong, you hear me?" he choked out, more tears flowing now. He swallowed roughly as he dragged in a shaky breath. "I'm the one who's sorry, it's all my fault. I shoulda listened to you, you told me so many fuckin' times and I ignored you. I swear, I'm never gonna forgive myself." He squeezed his eyes shut and held you tighter against him.

"It's not your fault, it's their fault," you said, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. "You were just trying to keep us safe; you didn't know."

He bit the inside of his cheek, overwhelmed with your kindness, to not place the blame on him. He would still blame himself, but it eased his mind to hear you say it anyway. He held you against him until your cries turned to sniffles. Then your fist relaxed, releasing his flannel from your grasp, and ran your hand under the collar of his shirt to rest your palm against his bare shoulder, his skin hot under your touch. He felt a shiver go down his spine, even under the warmth of the sun.

You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, but the sun had shifted to where it was blinding you through the leaves of the trees, so you removed your hand from inside his shirt and lifted your head up to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his cheeks were dried with tears as you watched the sun dance over his face. You took in his features like you were seeing them for the first time. The small wrinkles next to his closed eyes, his angular nose, his patchy beard that needed to be trimmed, and lastly you let your eyes settle on his parted lips.

You glanced back up to confirm his eyes were still shut. You knew he wasn't sleeping because you felt him mindlessly rubbing a hand across your back. You took a shaky breath and leaned forward, gently pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his eyes remained closed as he reciprocated your kiss, letting you set the pace. You brought a hand up to cup his cheek, pulling back a moment before gingerly pushing your lips back against his once more. You sighed as you broke away, resting your foreheads together.

"What can I do?" he asked you, "I need to do somethin'. I wanna help you."

"There is one thing," you told him, leaning back so you could look at him, your fingers intertwining with his on his lap. He sat up straighter, giving you his full attention.

"Name it, I'll do anythin'," he said earnestly.

"Find me a home, Joel," your fingers gently traced over his as you stared into his deep, brown eyes. "I want a new life. I just want to be with you."

He smiled when he heard you echo his words back to him and reached a hand out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"You got it, sweetheart."

That night, Joel gave you your space as usual in the small bed. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt your hand spreading over his chest and your face nestling in his shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest so hard, you could probably feel it. He wasn't sure if you would ever be the same again, or if your relationship would ever be the same, but he was ok with that. If you found a shred of peace by his side, then he would stay right there until his dying day.

September 2004

You had been traveling for almost three weeks, the crisp fall air biting at your cheeks. You weren't exactly sure what the date was anymore, but you had to guess it was the end of September by now, based on how early it got dark and the leaves piling up on the ground. You were in a very small town called Daniel, Wyoming. You walked down Main Street with Joel, eyeing up the buildings. It was quiet, most likely abandoned, and you hadn't heard any indication of infected nearby, so you held your bow loosely at your side as you read the signs outside the buildings. You both zeroed in on a trading store next to the post office, hoping it wasn't picked over and you could restock some of your supplies. You had gotten lucky over the past few weeks, killing rabbits and squirrels as your primary source of food and finding a few cans or dry goods here and there. The journey hadn't been too bad, but Joel was eager to get to Yellowstone and find you a home. He wanted to have enough time to stock up the cabin or house you picked with supplies before it got too cold.

Joel confirmed the store was clear and ushered you inside. It was warm, and you welcomed the break from the wind. Joel went to the clothing section to look over winter clothes and accessories you would need while you went to see what food was left behind. You were stuffing your backpack full of any food you could fit when your eyes landed on a red can. You flicked your gaze back to Joel, who was engrossed with picking out a flannel that looked exactly like the one he was wearing, but newer. You reached back onto the shelf and pulled out two cans of Beefaroni, shoving them deep down in your pack so he wouldn't see them.

As you were finishing up, Joel walked up behind you holding up a few long sleeve women's thermal tops.

"Whaddya think?" he asked, holding them up. You nodded, taking all three from his hands and then glanced down at your overfilled pack.

"Can you carry them for me? Mine's full." You held them back out to him, and he carefully folded them up and put them in his backpack. He jutted his chin towards your pack.

"Find anything good?" he asked as he shouldered his bag and picked up his rifle.

"Yep," was all you said, but he caught the corner of your mouth turn up right before you bent over to pick up your things. He looked at you curiously with his eyebrows pinched, a small smile playing on his lips. "What?" you asked him innocently.

"Nothin'," he said, turning back around to survey the store. "Do we need anythin' else before we head out? We got a few more hours of daylight, I'd like to make the most of it."

"I think we should be good til we get there," you told him, following him out of the store. "What did you think, another week or so?"

"Yeah, give or take. It's a big park, there's lots of areas to explore. Once we get there, we can take our time pickin' a spot, settle in, and stock up for the winter." He opened his map as you made your way down the street. "I reckon we can follow the 191 the whole way," he pointed down the street where you could see a T in the road. "That should be it right there."

You walked until the sun began to dip below the trees. Joel was building a fire and grumbling about shorter days and less time to cover ground while you were rolling out your sleeping bags. He picked up his rifle and stood to head out into the woods. You noticed ever since your breakthrough with him, he was feeling more confident about leaving you alone, as long as you were comfortable with it. And he always asked. Every time. Today was no exception.

"I'll go out and see if I can find us a rabbit or somethin', they'll probably be out now that it's dusk. You wanna come with or do you wanna hang back?" He had his rifle slung over his shoulder and he looked down at you with warmth in his eyes. It was funny, it's only been a year, but if your coworkers saw him how he was now, they would never believe it. But you knew he reserved this side of himself just for you. You remember seeing his darker side before, most prominently when he confronted Keith after your assault. At the time, it scared you how quickly he was able to flip that switch. But now you understood there was nothing to fear when it came to him. At least, you didn't have anything to fear.

"Why don't you skip hunting today, I have a surprise for you," you said, the corners of your mouth turning up into a smile. You were slowly starting to smile more again, and every single time it made him grin. He immediately slid his rifle off his shoulder and laid it on the ground, sitting down on top of his sleeping bag next to you.

"Well, how could I say 'no' to that," he teased. He dusted his hands on the sides of his jeans and looked at you expectantly. You turned to rummage in your pack, taking you a minute to find the cans you shoved all the way to the bottom. You pulled them out and hid them behind your back.

"Pick a hand," you said, and his eyes bounced back and forth between your shoulders as he decided, the light from the fire making them sparkle. Finally, he reached out and pointed to your right hand. He was still very careful about touching you, only ever doing so after you’d initiated contact. You took your hand out from behind your back and handed him the can of Beefaroni.

"Happy Birthday," you said as his face shone with excitement, his eyebrows raised high, and his jaw hung open. He reached out and cradled it like it was gold before looking back up to you.

"How do you know if it's my birthday?" he asked, and you shrugged.

"I guessed. It's gotta be around now, right? Do you like it?" You looked at him eagerly as he turned the can over in his hands.

"Well, that depends. What's in the other hand?"

You immediately brought your left hand around to hand him the second can, and he jokingly clutched his chest and fell backwards, his hand catching himself at the last minute, then pushed himself back up. You giggled, and his eyes shot up to yours, trying to hide his shock. That was definitely the first time you laughed since your assault. Warmth spread across his chest at the sound, and he looked down at the two cans in his hand.

"I never got you anythin' for your birthday," he said, still looking down with a smile. You waved him off.

"You're getting me a home, that's all I want," you told him, scrounging in your bag to find a can of chicken you tucked away for yourself.

You ate in front of the fire in a comfortable silence, watching the fireflies and listening to the insects chirp around you. He finished his can and set it down by the fire, leaning back a bit to fish the keychain out of his pocket.

"Beefaroni was a great gift, sweetheart, but this one is still hard to top," and he dangled the keychain in front of you. You were about to take a bite of food when your hand froze in midair. You looked from the keychain, to Joel, then back again before putting the fork down.

"Can I see?" you asked, and he placed the keychain in your palm. You could tell the chrome edge was worn from being rubbed in his pocket, but the Texas flag was still just as bright. You handed it back to him with a smile.

"I keep forgetting you have that," you admitted, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. He tucked it back into his pocket.

"I always got it on me," he told you. You looked at each other in the glow of the fire until you bit your lip and looked away. Joel never pressured you to be physical after your assault. He didn't even flirt the way he used to. The best he would do was tease you a little. He left all of that up to you, and he was incredibly patient. You only kissed him twice since that afternoon in the forest, and they were both very brief. Even then, he never attempted to deepen the kiss, giving you complete control. You wanted that part of your relationship back, but you were scared what it would be like, or if you were ready.

You looked back over at him. He was staring into the fire now, his legs stretched out and leaning back on his hands. You swallowed, then inched over to him, tucking your head into his shoulder. He shifted so his weight was all on one hand, and he picked up the other to wrap around your hips, his palm flat against the top of your thigh. You turned your face up to look at his, and when he glanced down back at you, you leaned up to press your lips against his mouth. He kept his hands where they were and gently massaged his lips on yours, still not looking to take anything further. Your heart swelled at his patience and restraint, overwhelmed by his sweetness. Before you had a chance to overthink it, you delicately licked at his lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. You felt his hesitation before gently opening his lips, letting you be the one to explore. You nervously ran your tongue up and down his, moving much slower than either of you ever had in the past. All of your memories came flooding back of better times, and you realized just how much you missed being this close to him. You applied more pressure as his hand came up to cradle your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek as you swirled your tongue around his with more confidence. His hand was getting sore holding himself up, so he cupped your jaw with both hands while he eased himself back. He was lying flat on the ground now with you next to him, your upper body resting on top of his chest, your tongue never leaving his mouth. You felt the heat from the fire on your back as you pulled back to catch your breath, leaving a slow trail of kisses along his jaw. His fingers gently raked up and down your back, his adrenaline catching up with him now. He was trying so hard to hold back, to let you take it as far as you wanted. His eyes fluttered closed as you peppered kisses down his throat. You were finding it difficult to reach his neck from your angle, so without thinking, you swung your leg over his hips, your mouth continuing its trail.

You should have gone slower, you should have thought it through more. The way you were situated on him now left your core directly over his growing erection. You didn't even realize it until you shifted your weight back on your hips, pressing yourself on him and feeling his hardening cock, and he groaned softly. Your mind didn't even catch up with your body before you found yourself scrambling backwards off his lap, back to the safety of your sleeping bag. He sat up with a jolt, his eyes filled with concern.

"What'd I do?" he asked, looking you over as if he could find something physically wrong. You shook your head, trying to rid your mind of the man who forcibly pressed your hand against his erection, rubbing your wrist subconsciously. Your chest felt tight as you gasped for air. You rubbed the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"Nothing, you didn't do anything," you gasped. "It was me. I thought I was ready, I thought... I'm so sorry, Joel." Your face crumpled, tucking your knees into your chest. You tried to hide your face in your shoulder, but he reached out and hooked a finger under your chin, dragging your eyes up to meet his.

"You got nothin' to be sorry for, it's ok," he said softly, and you sniffled. "Don't cry, I promise it's ok," his thumb wiped a tear from your cheek as he gazed down at you. Your breathing was returning to normal, and your chest felt looser. You sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Why don't we get some sleep?" He asked, trying to change the subject. "I wanna take advantage of as much daylight as possible. Sooner we get there, the better, yeah?" You nodded and rubbed your nose on the back of your hand.

You waited until he got settled in his sleeping bag before tentatively reaching an arm over to drape across his chest. His eyes were closed but you saw him smile, and his hand came up to hold yours, bringing it up to his lips to plant a kiss on the inside of your wrist.

"You alright?" he whispered, turning his head to look at you now. You nodded.

"I will be," you said.

Over the next two days, Joel had you up at the crack of dawn to get started on your journey. The days were getting chillier, but the sun provided some warmth as you moved through the mountains. You were taking a small break, sitting on a guardrail eating while Joel examined his worn-out map, his eyes squinting at the paper. You poked him in the shoulder, startling him.

“You need glasses, old man?” you teased, and he couldn’t keep the smirk from his face. He shook his head at you before focusing back down on the map.

“I’m 37, not 77,” he muttered. You smiled as you looked up and down the highway, seeing nothing but a few abandoned cars, but then some rustling in the trees lining the road grabbed your attention. Joel held out his hand for your bow, hoping to snag a rabbit. You pressed it into his hand, and he grabbed an arrow from your backpack, loading it up and taking aim at the dense forest, waiting for the animal to show itself. But the animal that appeared was far bigger than a rabbit.

You blinked rapidly a few times, unable to process seeing a horse standing just 20 feet in front of you. Then, four more horses appeared through the trees, standing and staring at you. You assumed because you hadn’t seen a horse in so long that it took you an extra minute to realize there were riders on their backs. The people had their faces partially covered with bandanas and had their guns aimed directly at you.

“Drop the bow,” a woman’s voice said, taking you by surprise. You weren’t sure you’ve ever seen a female raider before.

Joel lowered the bow carefully, never taking his eyes off the woman in front who was clearly their leader. With the bow no longer obscuring his face, he held his hands up and jutted his chin out, sidestepping so he could block you with his body.

“Whaddya want?” he asked her roughly, his scowl returning. Before she could respond, another voice piped up from beside her.

“Joel?!”

His eyes swung to the man on the horse next to the woman as he yanked his bandana down, revealing his face for the first time. You gasped, then you both spoke in unison.

“Tommy?”

Chapter Eighteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us game #the way we were joel miller fic

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yuri-is-online · 14 days

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Keep thinking bout Yutu and his relationship to his dad. Like we know a little more about Ace, Floyd, Azul and Riddle (maybe I miss someone else?) but I was curious about other details or interactions with the other Overblot boys.

Like how does talking with someone who tries his best to not get involved in other people's business like Jamil work for making his parents fall in love (if that's even something Yutu can see happening with how distant he is)? How does Yutu go about trying to lay some clues for Vil without being found when Vil's doing his best (with Rook's help) to figure out what's going on?

Or what about the shenanigans Ortho would get to to ensure Idia and Yuu get together so they can try to stop the apocalypse and how would Yutu feel about having at least one person (his uncle at that!) who he can rely on? Or does Yutu ever find himself in a situation that makes him go "oh, I could've had this with dad if it weren't for the council" whenever Malleus says something deep without realizing?

Gaaaaahhhhh I just really like this au and I wanna ask you so many questions but I also don't wanna be annoying

ask is referencing the fyuuture kid au, information on which can be found here and here, or under the series section on my masterlist.

No one is annoying for asking questions! I have asks for Idia and Leona's Yutus, which I think makes every overblot boy except for Jamil and Vil due for a detailed post. Azul! Yutu is a bit of a grey area since I have talked about him a bunch but haven't done detailed hc for him. Yet anyway, Jade and Floyd got one so he needs one too otherwise it'll bug me.

Jamil! Yutu absolutely has a lot of guilt and self hatred around his entire existence. As I talked about in the post about the main cast, Jamil was executed in Yutu's future, and he feels personally responsible for that. If his dad had never fallen in love with Yuu then he would have had a chance at his freedom, that's how Yutu has come to see it anyway. He doesn't want Jamil to fall in love with Yuu, even if it means erasing his existence. Down that road lies only tragedy, but there is also something so beautiful about the way Jamil interacts with Yuu when he thinks no one is looking. There is a degree of mutual respect for how hard the other works and intense desire for approval and praise he can sympathize with. He just doesn't see a way for this to end well if it's allowed to continue, he's a very pessimistic kid Jamil! Yutu. But then again the others didn't have to see the rotted corpse of their father getting dragged around by a blot phantom and be told by a few angry relatives of Kalim that he is the one who put him there.

Vil! Yutu is a bit afraid of his dad. He knows from personal experience that the man is intense and does not take no for an answer but he's never been in the position to see 1) what a good thing that can be or 2) just how silly that can make him act. He's also NEVER had to contend with the real Rook before. The Rook he's familiar with is a mindless monster, dangerous sure, but with patterns you can memorize and protect yourself from. This guy is just wild, sure his dad says that he's only putting up for his behavior "for now" but someone tell him where the fucking line is??? The last thing he wants is to just say everything and risk ruining the timeline but Vil keeps demanding specifics. The main thing Yutu tries to do is get him cooperating with Idia in learning about blot phantoms, the way he sees it things will be much easier if his two most trusted adults are on the same page. It's not a difficult ask either post chapter six, I think Vil is someone who would want to understand what happened to him on a scientific level to some degree, but oh Yutu. Now you've just made him wonder how you know that little piece of information, not everyone knows about his overblot, but he didn't know that bit did he?

Ortho and Idia! Yutu wind up being very close. Having his uncle on his side puts Yutu in a much more stable place emotionally and mentally than other Yutus. They spend a lot of time analyzing old records about blot and phantoms, everyone else is convinced they're just hyping each other up for some weird PhD project inspired by the Ramshackle Prefect's time at NRC and hey. They aren't exactly wrong. As for how they go about trying to get Idia and Yuu together... it's a lot of anime recommendations and conveniently forgetting they had something else to do. Yutu has just as in depth knowledge of Idia's tastes as Ortho does, and the added bonus of knowing Yuu's, so they search through lists of things, pick out the shows they know will get the two of you talking and then sit back and let you interact. Yutu is genuinely confused about why or if this is working... but Ortho did send him a video of his dad hyping himself up to try and ask you out (he over heated and just hid inside his room instead but hey. It's the thought that counts.)

Malleus! Yutu just got his post here. And yes he does think regularly about what he could have had with his father if things had been different, but a lot of those thoughts come from his sillier moments. Hearing Malleus talk at length about ruins or seeing him confused about how to interact with technology make him seem more... human for lack of a better term to him. He's very familiar with the myth of Malleus Draconia, but he wasn't fathered by a myth. He was fathered by a man who fell in love with a human under very extraordinary circumstances and Yutu wants to know about why. What things did Malleus like most about Yuu? About Twisted Wonderland? If he had gotten a chance to be raised by him what things would Malleus have wanted to teach him? Would he be any different?

Azul! Yutu is also afraid of his dad, but not based on any personal experiences just his own insecurities. He's not a thin guy, he's not in Octavinelle, and he is extremely worried that his dad will see him as some sort of stupid muscle head and be disappointed in having him. He's also, understandably, extremely angry at him when he learns what he did in Book 3 to his parent. Fuck this guy, he'll just save Yuu himself and hopefully if they still get together he'll grow up to be a totally different person when he's born in this good timeline. But there's just something about Azul's approval that he can't help but want now that drives him crazy. Why can't he just be ok with being alone? He has been all this time anyway...

(Meanwhile Azul is deeply impressed with how well Yutu is at disguising himself as a dumb muscle head. Just look at the kid, he's got everyone thinking he just is controlling their shadows while he's actually using a really complicated bit of cosmic magic. Suckers all of them. Not him though. He's not being fooled by anything about Yutu, no sir.)

Leona, Leona, Leona. He's tricky for me to write. Scar apparently has children? In one the the Lion King sequels? Leona's dislike of kids seems to come from his complicated feelings around the throne and his want for people to be independent. I think he would be one of those gruff intense kind of dads who does the whole "we are never getting a pet" thing and then you see him asleep on the recliner with Princess Nooodles III chilling on his lap with him. Anyway back to Yutu-

Leona! Yutu's relationship with his dad is tempered by the fact Leona knows who and what he is from the start and demands to know why he has traveled back in time. He doesn't explicitly say he knows that he is his father or that Yuu is his other parent, just that he knows time travel is involved, so they have a fairly open amount of communication regarding the overblot "business" but not on much else. Yutu has a desire to understand his father and Leona has a desire to not disappoint him. Who would want their dad to be the second prince? He's destined for nothing but a miserable life anyway, all of the responsibility and none of the privilege (outside of the money but lets be real, Leona's ass does not understand that.) I don't think either Leona or Yutu fully understands that his existence is enough for the other to be happy. When they are forced to talk about it they both laugh it off and roll their eyes at how cheesy that sounds but deep down it means a lot to both of them.

Riddle! Yutu has gotten a lot of posts about him and his "hatred" of his dad but I thought I'd take this post to mention I like the idea of Yutu's favorite food being the chestnut tarts/mont blanc that aren't allowed at Unbirthday Parties but that Riddle still wanted to eat anyway. He's a lot like his father in his love of sweets and his determined denial of it, but he isn't the exact same. Also gives him one more thing to pick a fight with Riddle over (his dad doesn't get the big deal, they can just have a private tea party with Yuu and have all the different sweets they want... can't they?)

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #future kid au #overblot boys

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superlarva · 9 months

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Fives, Tup, and Dogma in a fort!

Soooo sorry about last week, I've been ridiculously busy, but we're back to my usual weekly Sunday updates of Raising Dominoes for the foreseeable future!

Anyways, here is Chapter 8 - Furniture and Forts. It was mostly just an excuse to draw the boys in a blanket fort :)

Prologue: 00 Previous chapter: 07 Next chapter: 09

Summary: Tup and Dogma help Fives set up his new room before a power outage frightens them.

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks, power outages

Chapter 8 - Furniture and Forts

Fives had not been able to fall back asleep after his nightmare, so after Cody left they spent the rest of the morning playing with the toys that Rex had bought the day before. At first Fives seemed to have trouble with the concept of playing. He would just sit in front of the toys staring at them blankly until Rex told him to do something specific with them, at which point he would comply, but after a while he seemed to get the gist of it. He began to make up little scenarios with the action figures and would have them battle each other.

It did not sit well with Rex that fighting seemed to be the only thing his son knew well enough to recreate in play, but Fives did seem to be having fun, so he tried not to intervene. Well, he might have been trying to coax Fives into helping him build a racetrack out of Legos for the matchbox cars, but the boy was too busy bashing the small plastic soldiers together and making blaster noises to notice.

By early afternoon Fives seemed to be running out of energy. The workers also arrived to deliver the boys’ furniture, so Rex turned the TV on to a random cartoon channel and let Fives curl up on the couch and watch it while he helped the guys set up the room.

When they were done the workers left and Rex found Fives still watching the show. He had hoped the boy would have fallen asleep, but he supposed it had probably been a little loud for that.

“Hey, buddy,” Rex sank down on the couch next to Fives.

Fives quickly turned his attention to Rex, television forgotten, “Are they done? Can I see?”

Rex chuckled, “Yep.”

Fives grinned and jumped up. He ran to his new room and stopped in the doorway. Rex joined him.

The furniture was all from the same set, so every piece had the same dark stained wood. It was a little weird to see the room with just furniture and no decorations, but Fives did not seem to mind. The kid was practically trembling with excitement.

Each side of the room had a bed with a bare mattress sitting in the far corner, and a nightstand, desk, dresser, and bookshelf up against the wall. Fives looked up at Rex, “This is really all just for me and Echo?”

“This is your room, yeah.”

“Wow.”

Rex grinned and pushed Fives lightly into the room, “Go on. Pick which side you want.”

Fives looked around the room and took a tentative step forward before looking back to Rex uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” Rex tried to reassure, “Just pick which bed you want to sleep in.”

Fives looked like he was making the hardest decision of his life before stepping over to the bed on the left and turning back to Rex, “This one?”

“Perfect.”

Fives beamed, “Can we-”

He was cut off by the sound of muffled voices:

“No, you have to knock louder, Tup. He’s not gonna hear that.”

The second voice was too soft to hear through the walls, but a loud knock rang through the apartment.

Fives looked up at Rex, his brows drawn together, and a tight frown tugged down the corners of his lips.

“It’s alright, those are my friends,” Rex said, flicking on the light in Fives’s room and motioning for the boy to follow him as he made his way down the hallway towards the door, turning on all the lights as he went. “You remember Hardcase?”

“Y-yeah,” Fives answered.

“These are his little cousins Dogma and Tup. They’re just a bit older than you.”

Fives nodded, but hesitated as they reached the entryway, “Why’d you turn on all the lights?”

“Oh, uh, they don’t like the dark,” Rex said softly, opening the door before Fives could ask why not.

They were met with a scowling preteen with close cropped hair and a boy with longer wavy hair that could have been the other’s twin if he was not a few years younger standing in front of a large box.

It took Rex a second to register, but when he did he grinned, “Thanks. This is your guys’ old stuff?”

The boys nodded.

Rex pulled the container into his apartment, “Awesome. This is great.”

Fives peered out from behind Rex and gave the older boys a small wave. Tup offered a shy smile and inched a bit closer to Dogma, who wrapped his arm around his brother and attempted a smile of his own, but it did not quite reach his eyes.

Dogma craned his neck to see into the apartment, “What were all those people doing?”

“Setting up Fives and Echo’s new room,” Rex said, ruffling Fives’s hair.

Tup’s eyebrows raised in interest. Rex new the look well and smiled at the boy, “If it’s okay with Fives, you guys can check it out. It’s not finished or anything though.”

Tup and Dogma exchanged a glance before looking to Fives.

“It’s okay,” Fives said, shifting a little behind Rex even as the words left his mouth.

Tup smiled and followed Dogma as he made his way into the apartment.

Dogma puffed out his chest and turned to address Fives, “My name is Dogma, I’m twelve years old and 3 months. This is my brother Tup. He’s ten.”

Fives’s large brown eyes darted between the boys, “I’m Fives.”

Dogma and Tup stayed to help unpack and decorate the bedroom. Dogma was helping Rex make the beds and the younger boys were putting Tup’s hand-me-downs in the dresser. Fives pulled out a shirt and passed it to Tup, “Echo.”

Tup hesitated, “Are you sure? You’re giving way more clothes to Echo than to yourself.” Fives shrugged, “That shirt is red. Echo likes red.”

Rex looked over to the dresser and saw that Echo’s was full and Fives’s practically empty, “Tup’s right, Fives. You need clothes to wear too. Why don’t you start putting more things in your dresser.”

Fives’s eyebrows pushed together, and he looked down into the box of clothes, “But- but what if Echo wants them?”

Rex shrugged, “When Echo gets home you guys can trade if you want, but for now you need to give yourself more clothes.”

Fives still looked a little confused and when Tup moved to place the red shirt in his dresser rather than Echo’s, he shook his head.

Tup froze, looking from Fives to the dresser to Rex, who was busy tucking in sheets. Dogma had been listening to the exchange while making Fives’s bed and looked up at the silence. He caught on quick and scowled at Fives, “Rex said-”

“But Echo would really like that shirt!” Fives interrupted, voice hitting a whiney pitch.

Dogma’s scowl deepened and Tup looked like he would rather be anywhere than caught in this crossfire.

Rex looked over and was about to say something, but Fives beat him to it, “I-I’ll take the rest of them, just- just Echo would really like that one.”

“But-” Dogma started, confusion replacing his scowl.

“It’s fine,” Rex interjected, he had heard the panic in Fives’s voice, and he did not want to make it any worse.

Dogma opened his mouth to say something.

“It’s fine, Dogma,” Rex repeated with a bit more force.

Dogma mumbled out a quiet apology and turned back to Fives’s bed, his ears turning red.

“Tup, why don’t you put that one in Echo’s drawer,” Rex nodded to the red tee still clutched in Tup’s hand. The boy obliged and Rex continued, “But the rest go to Fives, okay?”

Fives nodded seriously.

With four sets of helping hands, they were able to finish setting up the room fairly quickly. After learning that Jesse was out taking Hardcase to his drum lesson and Kix had picked up an extra shift at the hospital (which Rex could not help but feel responsible for), Rex insisted on Dogma and Tup staying for dinner. The boys did not complain.

While they were eating Dogma suddenly pointed out the window, “Hey, it’s snowing!”

“Really?” Tup jumped up and ran to the window.

Fives joined Tup, “Whoa, it’s so fluffy.”

Dogma’s eyes darted between his plate and the window, clearly debating something. Rex felt an odd pang in his chest at how hard this decision seemed to be for the kid. He smiled gently, “You can go take a closer look.”

Dogma’s eyes snapped to his, “But we’re eating?”

“The food will still be here after you take a look.”

“Come on, Dogma!” Tup exclaimed, unable to hide his excitement.

Dogma slowly and a little rigidly got up from the table and made his way over to his brother, glancing back uncertainly at Rex every few feet.

Rex nodded encouragingly. He had known Dogma and Tup ever since Kix had taken them in six years ago. The boys had been scared and nervous and so afraid of the dark that they refused to sleep until they all but collapsed. As the years went on, they acclimated to their new environment as well as one could expect, but Tup was still a shy bundle of worry and Dogma was still overly compliant to what he believed the “rules” were. And they were both still scared of the dark.

“It’s windy,” Fives noted.

“Really windy,” Dogma breathed, sounding lost in thought.

Tup turned from the window to look at Rex, his face scrunched up with worry, “Do you think the power’s gonna go out?”

Rex shook his head, “Probably not.”

Tup turned back to the window and Rex grimaced; he could hear the wind howling outside.

The boys had taken to playing in the twins’ room after dinner while Rex cleaned up. From what he could hear in the kitchen, it sounded like Dogma was teaching Fives some sort of card game. Rex smiled; he was glad they were getting along.

As soon as he finished scrubbing the last dish, the lights flickered in the apartment. Rex dropped the plate back into the sink and ran to the bedroom.

Dogma sat cross legged on the floor in front of a game of palace, back stiff as a board, eyes wide and focused on a space just in front of Rex. Tup had thrown himself over his older brother and was clinging to him, eyes just as wide and filled with terror.

Fives’s back was to Rex, and he turned, a frown tugging down the corners of his lips, “What-”

Just then the lights went out and they were plunged into darkness.

Rex moved quickly, scooping up Tup and pulling him into his lap, just as he had seen Kix do a million times before. The boy was already hyperventilating, his small chest rising and falling quickly with each shallow, ragged breath. Rex pulled his hand through Tup’s wavy hair, and exaggerated his breathing in the hopes that Tup would feel it and it would help him regulate his own.

“You’re safe, Tup. It’s me, Rex. You’re in my apartment.”

Tup clung to Rex a little tighter, but his breathing remained quick and shallow.

Rex turned to Fives, whose outline he could see in the dim light from the window, “Fives, there’s a flashlight on my nightstand in my room. Do you think you could get it for me?”

Fives made an affirmative noise and scurried into the darkness.

“How are you doing, Dogma?” Rex asked, turning his attention to the older boy for a moment.

Dogma did not respond, so Rex pulled him in close to his side, “I got you, you’re safe.” Dogma rested his head against Rex’s shoulder and trembled, speaking softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.”

Rex felt hot tears seeping into his shirt and could not help but feel like he was in way over his head. He had no idea what Dogma was apologizing for, but he supposed that did not matter.

“I know,” Rex said gently, even though did not, “It’s alright.”

Fives reappeared with the flashlight in hand and passed it to Rex. Rex switched it on immediately and it flickered to life, bathing the room in a golden light. He felt Dogma relax a bit beside him and gave the sniffling boy a quick squeeze before turning his attention back to Tup.

Tup was still in the throws of a panic attack and clung to Rex with a force and determination he did not know the ten-year-old had. Rex gently pried one of Tup’s hand off him and pressed the flashlight into it, “Here, have the light.”

Tup clutched the flashlight and slumped against Rex, his breaths erratic as he struggled to calm down.

“Breath with me, Tup. In,” Rex took a deep breath in before letting it out slowly, “Out.”

Rex kept inhaling and exhaling with Tup and eventually got the boy to slow his breathing. All the fight left Tup’s body and he slumped weakly against Rex.

“You want me to call Kix?” Rex asked gently.

Tup shook his head.

“Jesse?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t be a bother.”

“No. I’m- I’m okay now,” Tup said shakily.

Rex frowned, Tup was far from okay, “You’ll stay here until Kix or Jesse get home.”

Tup nodded against him.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Fives pipped up from the doorway of his bedroom where he had watched the scene unfold.

“Yes, little soldier?” Rex said the joking nickname coming automatically.

“Can we build a fort?”

“Like a blanket fort?” Rex asked, a little surprised Fives even knew what that was.

Fives nodded, “When we were scared like this, we would hide in a fort.”

“Yeah,” Rex said slowly, wondering how many times the twins had been “scared like this.”

Fives grinned and turned to Dogma, “Dogma, there are extra blankets in the closet in the hallway. We need three.”

The preteen sniffled and wiped his face, but got up and swiftly made his way out of the room, following the orders like his life depended on it.

Once Dogma had his mission, Fives sat down next to Tup—who was curled up in Rex’s lap and did not seem like he planned on leaving anytime soon—and explained his architectural vision for the fort. The plan distracted Tup from the power outage and Rex had to admit that there was no way he could have handled the situation better than his seven-year-old son currently was.

Dogma returned from the dimly lit hallway quickly and handed the blankets over to Fives.

The construction of the fort was left mostly to Fives and Dogma, but Tup did seem to be taking an interest in it. Rex nudged the boy in his lap as the other two finished up the fort and began crawling around in it, “Want to play with Dogma and Fives?”

Tup hesitated, “Can I keep the flashlight?”

“Of course,” Rex nodded, giving the kid a gentle push towards the others.

Tup crawled over to join his brother and Fives, who were now talking enthusiastically about “defense systems” they could put in place to fortify their creation.

Rex could have sworn he even saw Dogma smiling.

@marierg @stressed-cherry @ffdemon @renton6echo @bambambunny @tearfulsolace @rndmpeep @brokenphoenix99 @nerdy-valkyrie @xylionet @tazmbc1 @eyayah123 @the-bad-batch-baroness @sarcastic-nebula @ihaventpickedausername @sexysmeagolshitposting @emma-1409

#There are some chapters that actually have Echo in them coming up #Sorry about the wait #the clone wars #clone trooper fives #clone trooper echo #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone wars #tcw #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #domino twins #baby dominos #superlarva

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bad268 · 9 months

Text

Seven

Breaking News (Part 3)

(Max Verstappen X Reader, Charles Leclerc X Ex! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope (I had an idea, Mr. Krabs)

Chapter warnings: cheating mentioned, sex references, song referenced belongs to Natiale Jane.

Pronouns: They/them

W.C. 1672

Chapter Summary: "Seven" is released during the race week, and Y/n sees Charles for the first time since their split.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

(^Came from 2 pics on Pinterest)

<- Previous Part

It’s been months since I last saw Charles. It was not really a concern for me anymore. He can do whatever he wants, and I can do whatever I want. And what I want is to attend the race in Austin.

It was Wednesday, and we just flew in a couple of hours ago. We settled into our hotel room before Max went into the bathroom to shower before we went to dinner. Once I was dressed in a semi-fancy outfit, I decided to sit on our bed and wait for him to finish up. I had started scrolling through countless comments on my newest single, “Seven,” when Max came out of the restroom. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans, but at least it wasn’t Red Bull merch.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, coming up to look at the comments from over my shoulder. “Is that the new song?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled lightly, leaning back into him. “They’re loving it so far.”

“Well, of course, they are,” he retorted, standing up and pushing me to lay on my back as he leaned over me. He placed a couple of small kisses around my face before placing a final one on my nose. “You wrote it. Why wouldn't they love it?”

“It was just really different from my normal songs, I don’t know,” I sighed, setting my phone to the side as I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with the ends of his damp hair. “It’s also the second single for the album.”

“You haven’t even finished the album yet,” He shook his head with a laugh. “They’re your fans, liefde (love). They’ll love anything from you.”

“Doesn’t make the release any less daunting, schat (darling),” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss him. We moved in sync before ultimately needing to pull apart for air. “You ready to go?”

“Of course,” He said, lifting himself up before holding his hand out for me to stand beside him. “What kind of food are you feeling?”

Thursday is media day, so Max was off doing his own thing. It works because I had a virtual interview anyway, so I was able to hide out in Red Bull hospitality to do the interview in peace.

“Y/n L/n, your newest song, ‘Seven,’ is smashing the charts,” They started off, “Tell us about the story behind it.”

“Honestly, I think everyone knows the story behind it,” I chuckled. “I wanted to try something new, so I continued the fuel from my last relationship to make this song. I’ve never really done something like this, but I really liked it, and I think the fans do too.”

“They certainly do!” The interviewer reassured. “The story, the beat, everything is just so catchy! It’s an amazing song! What was your favorite part about writing this song?”

“The lyrics were really fun, and I got a little help from my new boyfriend for the melody,” I admitted. The interviewer’s eyes widened as they let out a gasp, and I just smiled wider. “He was actually the one that came up with the chorus beat.”

“Did he write any of the lyrics?” They asked quickly.

“No, he left that to me. He just listened to every draft,” I laughed as I remembered something. “About a month ago, I woke him up at like two in the morning on a race day because I had a dream about the lyrics. He loved it so much, it’s now the chorus. He also was not very happy that I woke him up that day. He had to be on track at like five, and I woke him up just before his alarm.”

“That is gold,” They laughed as well. “We have some fan questions if you don’t mind. One person asks what is your favorite lyric from the song?”

“Not a lyric, but the laugh before the first chorus,” I answered after a second of thinking about it. “While recording the gap between the first verse and chorus was missing something. I tested with more lyrics, but ultimately, the laugh sounded the best.”

“The laugh does make it better,” The interviewer agreed. “Next question, has your ex or his girlfriend reached out, regarding the songs you’ve released recently?”

“No, but there was an article that announced their relationship right after I released ‘Ava’ and she stole lyrics from a fan cover as her original caption,” I remembered. “I was tagged in a fan cover of ‘Ava’ where they portrayed Ava. It was actually amazing, and I loved it! They did an amazing job, and one of the verses was ‘if he’s your man, why’s he still in my bed.’ I, personally, find it funny, but everyone likes to paint it like there’s bad blood between us,” I explained, going off on a short tangent. “Sorry, but to answer the main question, no, they have not said anything to me specifically.”

“Do you wish they did? I mean, these two very popular songs of yours are centered around them, so do you wish that they acknowledged them?”

“They did, technically,” I replied. “The fact that they announced their relationship right after I released the song and used a fan cover of my song to jab at me kinda validates that they know about it. Plus, it’s funny that his teammate loved both songs. He’s told me that he blasts them in their garage all the time.”

“Well, that’s all the time we have today,” They wrapped up, satisfied with the answer. “Thank you for your time, and we’ll look forward to the full album.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a smile as I left the call. I let out a sigh as I leaned back in my chair, laying my head back and closing my eyes to rebuild my social battery.

“What album?” A voice asked from across the room. It was a voice I have not heard for month, causing me to immediately shoot my head up.

“What do you mean, ‘what album?’ I’m a songwriter, Charles,” I snapped. “Did you forget that’s my job?”

“No, just,” He took a breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. He hesitates for a second as if he didn’t want to say what he was thinking before just spilling, “Is the whole album about the breakup? Are you that caught up on it?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, moving to stand up and approach him. “I haven't written it yet. Might be, the fans seem to love this era. So what if it is? What are you gonna say?”

“This is defamation,” He seethed, coming up to stand chest-to-chest with me. “I could sue you for both songs.”

“I don’t name you in either of them,” I scoffed. “Ava is a basic name. I could mean anyone named Ava, not just your girlfriend. Even in interviews, I won’t answer questions if they mention your names, and my answers are always vague. You have no grounds to sue me for my success. You just want to rain on my parade. I’m climbing in popularity, and you’re not. Admit it.”

“You’re only getting popular because you’re fucking Max,” Charles replied bluntly. Behind him, I could see a door opening, but I couldn't see who it was.

“Oh, please. If anything, I get hate for fucking Max,” I laughed. “At least I’m getting satisfied. With the way you’re acting, I’d say it's been at least a month since you got laid.”

“You’re one to talk,” He tried to start before I cut him off.

“Not like it’s any of my business what you do with your girlfriend,” I said with a sly smile. “On a side note, what are you doing in here? Ferraris aren’t allowed in Red Bull hospitality, last time I checked.”

“Yeah, Charles, you should head back to your own hospitality,” Christian pressed as he was the one to walk through the door with Carlos, Max, and Daniel, who was holding Max back.

“You’ll hear from my lawyer,” Charles spat toward me before turning and walking out the doors. I just rolled my eyes and bit my tongue before I made the situation worse.

“Did I hear an album?” Carlos asks sheepishly.

“I will send a signed copy to my biggest fan once I get it written,” I teased him as Christian and Daniel ushered him out to follow his teammate. Carlos shouted back a thanks before taking off. I shook my head with a small laugh as I walked up to Max who had calmed down since Charles left. “Thank you for mentally killing a man in my honor.”

“Always,” he joked back, “I’d do anything for you. Was he serious about suing?”

“I don’t know, but it’s just going to waste his money cause I worked with my publicist to make sure they couldn’t sue for defamation,” I reassured him, cupping his cheeks and leaning our heads together as he placed his hands at my waist. “Y’know, in case you didn’t know, I love you.”

“I have loved you since we were 18,” He whispered back. My eyes widened as I took in his words.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I gasped out.

“It was before we both thought the same things,” he chuckled. “Your music was taking off, and I was still a rookie. I remember you said that you wanted to wait until you were in a stable place in your career before you started a relationship.”

“I was like 12 when I said that!” I laughed, shocked that he actually remembered that. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I always knew I would end up with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He jokingly took offense as he tightened his hold around my waist.

“I told all of my friends and family I would date you at some point,” I admitted lowly. He immediately began beaming at my confession. “No one believed me, but now…oh, if they saw us now.”

~~~

Next Part ->

~~~~~

#max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #charles leclerc #max x reader #charles x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #bad268 breaking news #part 3 #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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scarredwithcruelintentions · 1 month

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chapter 2: the hunted

Find the masterlist here!

W/C: 2,327

A/N: Have a chapter in honor of my new computer!

Astarion spent the next morning as he always did, sitting just outside his tent with a book in hand. Most of the camp was up and milling about, starting their days by breaking their fasts and groggily wishing each other ‘good morning’s. He made sure to stay away from it all, as usual, but watched the proceedings with a keen eye and a great sense of unease. His attention kept flitting back and forth between the ever growing gaggle of his awakened traveling companions and your darkened tent.

He felt a sense of dread inch its fingers up his spine, cold and unyielding, the more time passed without your lively and authoritative presence to command the group of companions. The sun’s reach expanded well over the horizon now, and it was so very unlike you to have a lie in, no matter the circumstances.

Oh gods, did I go too far last night? What if I killed her?!

Just as he prepared himself to go check on you, lest he find you dead at his hand, you popped your head out of your tent. You raised an arm against the onslaught of daylight and blinked blearily, running a hand down your face to dash the sleep from your eyes. Astarion sighed audibly in relief, until your now-focused gaze found him. Dread’s icy grip once again clutched at him, stealing his breath anew.

This is it. This is where I’ll be tossed.

You made a beeline for him, taking care to avoid drawing the attention of the other companions. Astarion slipped into his familiar guise of nonchalance, preparing himself for his inevitable departure. He made to stand when you stopped a few feet from him.

“Good morning,” he began with a coy smile, “How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, if a bit woozy,” you waved noncommittally. “And you? How do you feel?”

Astarion’s false confidence crumbled in an instant, blanching at your question.

“How… how do I feel? My dear, I’m not the one that had a leech to their throat last night!”

“That’s rather beside the point, leech,” you giggled. “Now, do you plan on answering me? Or are you simply going to stand there agape like a dead fish?”

“I suppose I feel… well. Superb, even!” he giggled back.

“Wonderful! Any idea how long this will last?” you pointed to your head, no doubt referencing the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

“It’ll pass,” he flicked his hand dismissively. “Just be grateful I’m not a ‘true’ vampire. A bite from them and you might wake up as a vampire spawn, like my good self,” he leaned forward, voice hushed, “All of a vampire’s hunger, but few of their powers.”

He heaved a dejected sigh at the reminder.

You crossed your arms over your chest, a smile toying at your lips, “Oh? Any other drawbacks I should be aware of?”

“That’s the odd thing: standing in the sun, wading through rivers, wandering into homes without an invitation - they’re all perfectly mundane activities now, things I never could have done before the tadpole. Seems someone, or something, has changed the rules. If only Cazador were here so I might laugh in his face before I rip it off,” he laughed heartily - then abruptly cut himself short, a shard of terror lancing through his thoughts at having revealed too much.

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, studying him, but did not press.

“Nonetheless, it’s a stroke of good fortune to have a vampire on our side. I meant what I said, I am excited to see you fight,” you intoned softly, dropping your arms.

“Oh yes, and now I can fight with all my weapons,” he responded with a devious smirk, fangs glinting in the bright morning sun. “If I drain a bandit dry every now and again, it isn’t as if they weren’t destined to meet their maker anyway.”

You laughed, loud and full, at his witty remark. He was surprised to find that it stirred a delightful warmth in his chest, a feeling unfamiliar to him.

“I’m just glad you’re being sensible about these… revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks,” he began with a smile, though it was rapidly erased as he noticed the other companions wandering into earshot with a mixed array of expressions.

“Although, there’s still time,” he nodded over your shoulder gravely. He watched intently as your expression hardened and you turned to face the horde.

“A vampire among us? So be it. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel snarled.

“I’d just better not wake in the night to find fangs at my throat,” Shadowheart scoffed with disdain.

“Of course we’re traveling with a vampire,” Gale threw his hands up in exasperation, then pointed at him menacingly, “A word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful!”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and whatever you saw on his face steeled your resolve.

“I trust him,” you said, voice hardened and posture defensive. “Besides, like it or not, we need him. And there’s no need to worry about the safety of your necks. He’s got mine.”

You turned your head and bared his bite mark to your companions. A round of hushed murmurs and surprised faces met your bold confession to his feeding. If he could blush, he would be red from the tips of his ears to his toes in mortification at what your words implied.

“Well, now that’s settled, we should be getting on our way. Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, you’re with me. We’re to find the witch, Ethel, today,” you finished with a nod, effectively dismissing the group.

Astarion continued to stare at the back of your head in shock, and you turned to face him again, an inquisitive look adorning the fine features of your face once more.

“I…” he began, but petered out, unsure of what to say.

You snorted and turned to stride back towards your tent, presumably to stock your bag for the day.

He reached out to stop you instinctively and grabbed at your shoulder. You flinched uncharacteristically and froze on the spot, and he ripped his hand away as though scalded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled as you turned toward him again. The look you regarded him with was far icier than before, the lingering warning of a threat still causing your pulse to flutter.

“S’fine,” you mutter. “Out with it.”

“I… just wanted to thank you. Again,” he finished lamely, waving his hands awkwardly at his sides.

“Don’t mention it,” you said gruffly, then finally strode away to your tent and began donning your armor.

Puzzled by your reaction, he watched you pack for a few moments too long. ______________________________________________________________

“It’s so unpleasantly muggy in these parts, and there are so many bloody bugs,” he whined, swatting at the air around him.

“Does the big, bad, bitey monster fear a taste of his own medicine?” Shadowheart mocked, deepening his scowl.

“Don’t worry, Astarion. They won’t bite you; you’re dead, remember?” you quipped with a cheeky grin.

Just as a retort reached his lips, you stopped dead in your tracks and raised an arm - a signal to await your command.

“What is it?” he whispered apprehensively.

You hushed him, scanning the sunny fields of wildflowers surrounding the group.

“Illusion magic. This isn’t real,” you murmured. As if triggered by your words, the grassy knolls give way to reveal a bog, fetid with the stench of death and decay.

“Oh lovely!” he chirped sarcastically, “I always did want to rot in a bog!”

You shot a glare at him and signaled the group to continue onward. The change in landscape was drastic; where once there were flowers, now fungi resided, drawing sustenance from the mossy trunks of felled trees. The sunlight had vanished into humid gloom, and the sheep that had been quietly grazing were revealed as redcaps, feasting on the corpses of their victims.

Karlach’s eyes almost bugged out of her skull, raising her greataxe in preparation for a fight.

“Ignore them,” you waved at her. “They think we still see sheep.”

She nodded gravely.

The group continued through the putrid haze of the bog, avoiding the redcaps and picking through half-rotted remains for loot, when they happened upon a man fletching crossbow bolts. Astarion smelled him before he saw him, and a flare of panic shot through him.

The Gur.

He watched you wrinkle your nose as you called out in greeting.

“Ah, stranger!” the man called back, noticing your sour expression. “Forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-vine, an old hunter’s trick. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.”

Against his better judgment, Astarion piped up, “You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised - I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats.”

He sneered at the man in front of him, no doubt an errand boy for Cazador, meant to drag him back for judgment at his master’s mercy. What were the odds, a lone Gur hunter this far from Baldur’s Gate? It was surely a message meant for him alone.

“Pardon, but who - or what - is a Gur?” you interjected, posture defensive and coiled to spring.

“A mystical and dangerous people who travel the land, never settling in one place,” the man flourished with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters… your friend here has heard it all, I’m sure,” he gestured at Astarion.

Astarion fought the urge to bare his fangs.

“I wish I had half the power settled folk think my people possess. Alas, I am a simple wanderer,” the man dismissed, “A simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I am no witch doctor or cutthroat.”

“So what monster are you hunting, then?” you bit back.

It was as though Astarion couldn’t help but draw the attention back to himself despite all of the warning bells ringing in his ears, his nerves causing him to prattle on.

“Something terrifying, no doubt! Dragon? Cyclops? Kobold?”

“Nothing so dramatic,” the man scoffed, “I’m hunting for a vampire spawn.”

Astarion felt his face fall in panic and caught your subtle glance in his peripheral vision.

I knew it! Just when things were beginning to look up…

“His name is Astarion, but I think he’s gone to ground. I was hoping the hag of these lands could help me flush him out, if I can afford her blood price.”

“And when you find this ‘Astarion’? You’ll, what, kill him?” you asked, subtly lowering your stance in preparation for a fight.

“Not this time. My orders are to capture him,” the man replied, eyeing you more warily by the moment.

“Oh, and bring him where, exactly?” Astarion questioned, trying his best to keep the fear from lacing into his words.

“Baldur’s Gate. My people wait for me there.”

“A vampire spawn doesn’t seem worth the hunt. It’s not like he’s a real vampire,” you added, trying to wheedle more information from the Gur hunter.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it,” Astarion snarled, unable to help himself at the slight.

Shut up! You’re going to give yourself away!

Astarion’s fingers twitched, longing to feel the familiar weight of his dagger in hand. His mind was racing, addled with the lingering sensations of dread and rage like so many unwanted hands clawing at him, his skin crawled with it.

The man, taking no apparent notice, continued talking to you.

“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day, we have the advantage! But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry,” he finished, expression carrying a grave countenance.

Astarion caught your gaze, clearly calculating your next move. Whatever you saw in his face - fear, loathing, fury, he knew not what - made your mind up.

“Interesting, indeed,” you said, holding his eye. “Astarion, what do you think?”

“What? No, it isn’t possible! It’s daylight!” the man exclaimed, looking between you and Astarion.

Astarion ignored the bewildered hunter, a vicious, fanged smile contorting his face as he pulled his dagger.

“I think the hunter has become the hunted,” he growled, and then lunged at the Gur, plunging his dagger hard into the man’s throat.

Karlach gave a great shout of indignation, and Shadowheart gasped in surprise. You, however, did nothing more than cross your arms over your chest, mouth set in a grim line.

With no reaction time to reach for his crossbow, the man stumbled back, pawing weakly at the blade protruding from his neck. A bright scarlet stain spread across the front of his worn doublet, and with a final anguished gurgle, he collapsed into the muck.

“What in the Nine Hells did you do that for!” Karlach screeched at him.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the words that came were not his.

“He was a threat to our own. He had to be neutralized.”

Astarion looked up at you shrewdly, scrutinizing you for any deception, but found none. Neither did he find any betrayal of disgust or fear in your expression, only wry determination to protect your companions above all else.

“The deed’s done,” you said with an air of finality, looking down at Astarion crouched by the body of the fallen hunter wiping his dagger clean. “On we get to find Ethel, no doubt the hag the hunter spoke of.”

The rest of the group grumbled their assent and started moving, but Astarion was held firmly in place by the look in your eyes. A new kind of anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach.

He could read the many questions held in that one look, and he knew the time had come for further explanation once you regrouped at camp later that night.

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ikatakoirl · 1 year

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We need to normalize criticizing our favorite works, pointing out shortcomings in representation while simultaneously celebrating how far that representation has come. I’ll go first.

The Riordanverse (Percy Jackson and its spin-offs) is hands-down one of the best examples of mainstream queer representation for kids. It was probably the biggest formative element of my early queer journey, and I am so grateful for everything Rick Riordan has done for the community. I will continue to support him and his works with all of my heart.

That being said, he has a problem with squeezing his representation into the very last pages of the book, confirmed but not explored. We have three confirmed queer relationships involving demigods:

Nico and Will, confirmed in the last chapter of the series

Piper and Shel, confirmed on the very last page of The Burning Maze.

Magnus and Alex, confirmed in the last chapter of the series (they did kiss a bit earlier)

P.S. I forgot about Lavinia until just before posting, but her entire lesbianism also is introduced and concluded in the span of about a page.

As you can see, it’s extremely consistent. Like I said, these are the only three examples of queer teenage relationships over Riordan’s five series, and they all happen right at the end. We also find that most of the straight pairings (Percy/Annabeth, Frank/Hazel, Jason/Piper, Tyson/Ella, and even things like Hedge/Mellie are confirmed in the middle of the series and given room to grow our at least be referenced back to.

It’s unclear whether this was a conscious or unconscious decision. Perhaps Riordan felt constrained by his publisher. Perhaps he was afraid that he didn’t have the proper background knowledge to accurately write the details of a queer relationship. Both of these are understandable and valid, if a bit disappointing, and I would much rather that he wrote them as he did than not at all.

However…

The good news is that it seems like he’s trying to fix it! He sprinkled in enough of Will and Nico in the first book of the sequel series Trials of Apollo for me to forgive him for their lackluster confirmation in Heroes of Olympus. But then he surprised us all by making Nico and Will two of the five main characters on the Trials of Apollo’s finale (The Tower of Nero), and I can tell you that the fandom ate it up!

But in case that wasn’t enough, soon after the release of The Tower of Nero, Riordan announced The Sun and the Star, now set for release this May! In this book, Nico and Will are the protagonist and deuteragonist, meaning the story will be entirely focused around them! And just to make sure Riordan absolutely knows what he’s doing, he’s decided to co-write it with a gay author Mark Oshiro to make sure they can represent the characters accurately!

And… and the best part… Riordan has done his fair share of novellas and short stories, and ever since the announcement I had assumed that that’s what this was, but no! It’s a full-length book with 480 pages! To compare, that’s strangely enough the exact same page count as The Tower of Nero! I’m so blown away by how much Riordan has gone above and beyond with this book, and I’m insanely excited for it. Sorry this turned into The Sun and the Star propoganda, I didn’t know that the publication date was so close or how long it was until just now.

Anyway, where I’m going with this is that I have extreme respect for a creator who’s willing to listen to feedback from the kinds of people he is writing about and constantly grow from those mistakes! He’s still by far my favorite author of all time. Love you, Uncle Rick!

#lgbtq #rick riordan #solangelo #nico do angelo #will solace #magnus chase #alex fierro #piper mclean #percy jackon and the olympians #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #the sun and the star

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opposums-love-arson · 7 months

Text

Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl

Chapter 5

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

P.S. lmk if y'all would like to be added to the tag list

“Sidney Prescott and (y/n) (l/n) both escaped a vicious attack last night but one of them is the daughter of Maurine Prescott, who was brutally murdered last year when convicted killer Cotton Weary broke into their home and savagely raped and tortured the deceased. Cotton Weary is currently awaiting an appeal for the death sentence, handed down after the young Sidney testified against him…” The reporter just went on and on through the tv screen. Tatum was rubbing Sid’s arm as a sign of everything will be okay. I held Sid’s hand to signify the same message, gently squeezing it so she knows she’s not alone. “It’s never going to stop is it?” She asked with a small chuckle.

As Dewey sat across from us he notified, “Billy was released.”

Sidney’s face faltered once she heard this, I think she’s still afraid of it all. I on the other hand slouched back with a wave of relief.

“His celular bill was clean, he didn’t make those calls,” Dewey said as he sat back in the chair, “We’re checking every celular account in the county. Any calls made to you two or Casey Becker are being cross referenced, it’s going to take some time but we’ll find 'em.”

I squeezed Sid’s hand again and Tatum lightly punched her arm. “Okay,” was all Sid could really say right now.

“We’ve got this, Sis.” I said to her with a small smile.

I guess pulling up to school in a patrol car was cool? Kind of gave a real “Back off” vibe when we stepped on the school grounds. “Don’t worry girls, it’s school. You’ll be safe here.” Dewey reassured us...but if there’s a possibility that the killer is another student, is it really all that safe? Reporters swarmed us once Sid and I were completely out of the car. One woman going as far as asking, “So how does it feel to be almost brutally butchered?” Seriously what thee fuck? Sid and Tatum walked ahead of me right as I was ready to hook it to another reporter like I did to Gale. Sadly enough though I was stopped by two pairs of arms holding me back while my legs went swinging.

“Let me at ‘em!” I exclaimed to my mystery captors.

“Not a chance little Nancy Thompson,” I could hear Randy’s voice from my left.

“Yeah these reporters are worse than any Freddy Kruger!” And then there was Stu’s cackle from the right.

“Fine screw it, I just don’t want to see anymore of them haggling Sid again.” I said as I slightly jumped out at the flock of reporters.

“Uh, where did Sid go anyways” I asked the two boys as I spun around. Finally seeing her talking to Weathers I tried to beeline but Stu held me back.

“Dude, (y/n) slow your roll. Syd’s just talking to her,” Stu said as he secured me against his chest. I did my best to hide the red embarrassment all over my face.

“Yeah probably fixing the mess you made last night,” Randy said as he rolled my eyes.

His words struck something in me, I just calmed down and stopped fight Stu’s hold, if anything I was holding myself now.

Stu punched Randy in the arm before said, “Way to go man.”

“Wha- I-” Randy was about to pick his own fight with Stu again.

I beat them to it when I turned around still in Stu’s grasp and said, “No he’s right, what I did last night was reckless and now Sidney is the one who has to clean it up.” I leaned my head on Stu’s chest.

“C’mon (y/n), it wasn’t that bad?” Randy backpedaled on his words to try and make me feel better but lets face it, when you punch someone on national tv… it’s pretty bad.

At our lockers we waited around for the bell to ring. “This is a mistake, we shouldn't be here,” Sid said as she gathered her books. I’m honestly with her on that, it’s a total scare fest in the halls today. “I want you to meet me right here after class, okay Sid?” Tatum addressed my step sister but left me out of the question. Peaking my head over my locker door I arched an eyebrow. “I’ll walk you out of class (y/n),” Stu pipped in before looking at himself in a mirror. “Yeah okay Chicken Stew,” I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh at my own pun. I thought Stu would’ve laughed but before he could Sid said, “Hey I haven’t really seen Billy around, is he really pissed?” What the fuck Sidney? I thought. “Oh after you branded him the Candyman? No, his heart’s broken!” Stu exclaimed, earning a punch from Tatum. He said “ow” as Tatum said his name in a stern frustrated manner.

Someone came running down the hall in what’s now been dubbed the ‘Ghostface’ costume as they screamed bloody murder while jumping out at people. I let out a squeal before grabbing hold of Stu’s tan and white over shirt. Feeling heat rise up to my face I quickly let go and lightly brushed out my hair to compose myself. Stu turned around and pinched my cheeks, “Awe is (y/n) scewed of da big bad boo-gy man?” I swatted his hands away while saying, “Given recent events, yeah obviously.” Shuffling past Stu and over to Sid I notice his expression change for a split second for playful to envious. “Come on (y/n), you punched Gale Weathers on live news, I think you’ll be fine if you get yelled at by a kid in a costume,” Tatum said as she playfully rolled her eyes with a smirk. I couldn’t take it anymore, whether it was the embarrassment, the fear, the secrets, or the regret. I just couldn’t. I ran off from the group as both Tatum and Sid shouted after me.

As I ran down the hall I bumped into another figure.

“Shit!” I exclaimed as I pushed off of them.

“Hey it’s just me,” I heard an all too familiar voice say to me.

“Oh-oh… Billy,” I said as I backed away.

Waving his index finger between us he asked, “You still think it’s me?”

I reassure him I don’t by saying, “No, I don’t I was just shocked to see you.” As I fiddled with my shirt.

“I swear it’s not me (y/n),” Billy said stepping forward.

Looking up at him I said, “I know Billy, there was still someone in the house that night though. So can you please-” I cut myself off seeing the lack of inches in the space between Billy and I.

“I know, I know, the cops say I scared him away. It wasn’t me (y/n).” He said as he looked down at me a little.

“I know, he called us again when we were at Tatum’s…”

“See! Couldn’t have been me, I was in jail,” Billy said as he turned over his hands to reveal inky fingerprints. “Remember?”

“I’m sorry, but please understand,” I started as I looked up.

“Understand what? My girlfriend and her little step sister would rather accuse me of being a psychopathic killer than touch me?” Billy looked back down at me, I could smell the spearmint gum roll off his breath.

“You know that’s not true…” I said as I knitted my eyebrows together and grabbed a hold of his arm.

“Then what is it?” He asked, hurt and confusion heard in his voice.

“Billy, Sid and I were attacked and nearly filleted last night?!” I asked, slightly appalled he’d even ask as if it weren’t clear.

“I mean between us…” Billy said as his eyes stared down into my soul with an intensity I’ve never seen before.

“What do you mean between us?” I asked at this point very confused as I let go of him and take a step back.

“Isn't it obvious (y/n)? For the past five months, the smirks, the glances, the nudging, the little notes, Stu and I being practically all over you?” Billy said as he used his free hand that wasn’t on the banister to wave around.

“No it wasn’t obvious! I mean Stu I knew about but you?! Billy, you’re my sister’s boyfriend!” I exclaimed, getting justifiably annoyed and upset.

“Not anymore, she practically broke up with me the night at the station!” He raised his voice, making me flinch a little, he must’ve noticed since he let his body relax a little.

“Look Billy I’ve had a crush on you and Stu for months but I know for sure this isn’t the way to go about things. Sidney didn’t say she broke up with you and I’m not going to just be a rebound to make her jealous.” I said resting my hand above his on the banister.

Billy scoffed before saying, “(y/n), be real here Sid doesn’t want to see me anymore and like I said, the past five months…” Billy let his words trail off as he came closer to me, placing his hand on my forearm. Just like at the lockers my head was racing and everything felt so wrong, I just couldn’t take it. I just stepped away, shaking my head while I walked off letting Billy shout my name.

Turning around to look at him I said, “I’m sorry if me having good morality for my sister’s relationship is an inconvenience to you and your perfect existence!” I exclaimed before turning back round.

“What? What do yo- Nobody said that, (y/n)!” Billy shouted after me but it just faded out as I ran away.

Stomping my way into the bathroom I make my way over to one of the sinks, I dig in my backpack for an aspirin or something.

“They were never attacked, I think they made it all up,” I heard one of the bathroom stalls say.

“Why would they lie about that?” A girl in another stall asked

“For attention, the girl and her sister have some serious issues!” The first girl replies.

Part of me wanted to hide in the bathroom stall like the sad girls in the movies always did but then I remembered, this is life. In life you just gotta roll with the punches, so I’m doing just that, except this time I might punch back. Right when the two walk out of the stalls their faces dropped. Yeah I assumed seeing the face of one of your gossip subjects will do that to ya. I kept staring at them as they washed their hands, too scared to even look in my general direction. As they walked out I did that stupid petty way where you swish your fingers up and down. Finally I can cry in peace, I thought as I walked into an empty stall. Deciding that the short few seconds I’ve been in here were enough for me to feel refreshed I walk out, my eyes red and puffy while my lashes stick together.

“Pathetic,” I said into the mirror. I always thought I held myself to a higher standard than this, not really with the crying thing. More so with the Stu and Billy thing…

I don’t have time to think about it much when I hear a strange noise in the restroom. Getting low to the ground I check underneath all the stalls. Empty. Looking around I notice a loud vent in the wall, that must’ve been it. As I go back to shuffling around my bag I could’ve sworn I heard someone whisper my name. Maybe it’s better to ignore it? Slowly and carefully I get back down low to check again. This time I’m met with a pair of beat up leather work boots dropping down from the stall. “Oh shit,” I whispered to myself.

The stall door unlatches quickly and I try to make a run for it but I’m caught by the Ghostface.

Thrashing around as he holds back my arms I asked, “Alright real funny, who is it? Stu, Rand, Billy? If this is some sort of pay back then it won’t work!” The man behind the mask said nothing, but he violently jerked my face to the bathroom mirror. “What?” I ask, my face clearly showing malevolence towards whoever it is pulling the prank. That was until he pulled out an eight-inch long hunting knife. He slowly and lightly dragged the knife along my torso, from the collar of my cropped shirt all the way down to the button of my low rise jeans, applying extra pressure near my zipper. “Ya’ know if I wasn’t so skeptical about you trying to kill me right now we could probably take this in a very different direction,” I said as a more matter-of-factly sentence. I’m not sure if this shocked the masked murderer or gave him a change of heart but his grip loosen and I BOOKED IT! I slammed the bathroom door open passing by a couple of teachers but I really just wanted to get the hell out of here.

After calming down a little bit I got outside of the school just quick enough to hear Principal Himbry say, “Attention now kids, due to the recent events that have occurred effective immediately, all classes are suspended until further notice,” Holy shit, “The Woodsboro police department has issued a citywide curfew beginning at nine o’clock tonight.” The whooping and hollering cheers that were so loud just a second ago died down into monotone boos. At least we’re out of school?

“It was just some sick fuck having a laugh, sue me.” Tatum said as she rolled her eyes at me.

“No, it was him Tatum I know it. Or else he wouldn’t have had a huge ass hunting knife!” I exclaimed in a huff.

“Okay well, you're not to be alone anymore. If you pee, we all pee. Is that clear?” Asked Tatum

Sid and I looked each other up and now simultaneously say, “Ew, please no.”

Spooking up from behind us was Stu as he blabbered nonsensical words that most likely would’ve made sense if we were paying attention.

“I don’t know what you did girls,” He said handing each of us flowers, “but on behalf of the entire student body we all say THANK YOU!” Stu shouted full force from his lungs.

“Stop it Stu,” Tatum said as she hit him with the little purple flower.

I was so distracted by the two that I didn’t notice Stu change targets and come barreling towards me, hoisting me over his shoulder.

“Stu! Oh my god asshole! I’d like to be returned to the security of my feet on the ground!” I shout at I hit his back with my palms.

In the midst of my one sided battle Stu announces, “To celebrate this impromptu fall break, I propose we have a party. Tonight at my house!”

Looking over to my right I see my step sister’s face contort into an emotion of unease, “Are your sure?”

“Yeah as long as this little vixen doesn’t invite the entire world!” Stu exclaims as he motions to his girlfriend who is currently keeping me company by swinging my free hand.

Stu goes on by saying, “Intimate gather, intimate friends,” whilst poking my thigh right below my ass. He should be glad Tatum didn’t see that one.

“What do you say Sid? I mean pathos could have it’s perks?” Tatum piped up just as Stu let me down. Now Tatum and I have switched spots beside Stu.

“Could totally protect you, yo I’m so buff, I got you covered bro!” Stu does a macho man impersonation as he twirls around Tatum.

I fall a little back from the group, wondering if Billy will be there… he most likely will, won’t he?

“I mean c'mon Sid? (Y/n), you with me? It could be fun.” Tatum says as she turns to us both.

While the girls were focused on each other Stu looked over at me and snapped me out of my thoughts, literally. The loud noise made me look up.

“Huh?” I asked, looking at the trio in front of me.

“The party (y/n), you in?” Tatum asked as Stu kissed her neck

“Yeah fine, whatever. I’m in,” I said as I walked up in front of them.

“Niiice,” Stu growled out, “Cool, you guys bring food, alright?”

I don't know what it was but Stu did something which prompted me to shout, “You’re being weird Stu!”

#scream 1996 #scream fanfic #billy loomis x reader #ghostface x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader #scream #scream x yn #stu x reader #halloween

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