#2 my hair faded a couple of days ago rip

[alextydaisuda123]

Pizza Tower AU- Cloud Tower

"WARNING!": A LOT OF TEXT

A new AU that didn't take long to wait. To be honest, this idea came up spontaneously and additionally for several reasons, one of which is my childhood dream of having wings (and over the years my dream hasn't faded, which is surprising, usually my dreams fade after 5 years or a little more). Before I start talking about this world, a couple of additional words. A huge thank you to Emily (@creat0rstudi0) for helping me with this AU: she helped with the design of Peppino and Gustavo, from whom I pushed off and created images for others, painting everyone choosing a good palette for them (don't worry, I also painted the characters myself, Emily just gave a clearer palette than me, so I will show you 2 versions of painted characters), and also helped a little with information about the bosses. Well, now let's go.

Cloud Tower is an AU where instead of the earth there are small floating islands, platforms, and the space around is an endless sky, which is both a home and a grave. If you break your wings and fall, there is only a small chance that your body will fall on some island or platform, or if someone notices you falling, and if this is not the case, then consider that you will fall endlessly for the rest of your life (or until your corpse is cut by the air). And also (almost) everyone has wings. There are those who were born without them, or with them, but because of their problems (they grew together incorrectly or broke unsuccessfully) are disabled, roughly speaking. Also, someone may have additional plumage (in their hair, on their body, etc.) in addition to their wings. And yes, since the climate in their world is not so simple, many fly in warm clothes. There is also magic here, but it is hidden either in artifacts or in some creatures, since the world itself is also magical in its own way (after all, the food here is alive, lol). A few words about the tower. There is a certain atmosphere there similar to the Rainbow Factory from MLP Creepypasta.

Peppino and Gustavo are both cooks, but in their own separate directions. Peppino is an Italian cook, while Gustavo works as a baker of bakery sweets. One day, Pizzaface arrives on a flying platform and reports that Peppino's pizzeria will be destroyed by a cloud tower, but if he does not want this, then let him fly to the tower, and flew away, leaving behind an evil laugh. What actually did not like this, and they both decided to fly there and destroy the tower with its "owner".

Additional facts: Peppino, despite the fact that he does not particularly like to fly, although he has to, his flight speed is clearly faster than Gustavo's, while he flies slower; Gustavo has his own separate bakery, where he makes pastries, he would like to work with Peppino, but he cannot leave the place where his family once baked their first bread; Peppino participated in the heavenly war, from which he still has an injury, but thanks to work and his faithful friend Gustavo, he tries to live an ordinary life and not think about it.

Pepperman and Vigilante are two of the main bosses of the cloud tower who clearly didn't get there of their own free will. They were kidnapped a long time ago and forced to work for Pizzahead, having been threatened in a special way. Pepperman is a restorer (like in steampunk, yes) and a decorator. Vigilante is an ordinary security guard, and also watches the precipitation.

Additional facts: Pepperman has really white pupils, which is why his eyesight is worse than usual (he is not completely blind), and the reason for his poor eyesight is that he refuses to wear glasses for flying (but be that as it may, for work he still wears them under his beret along with additional tools); before getting into the tower, these two were ALREADY a couple; Vigilante's grandfather, who has long been retired, is still alive; as PH himself "promised", so that the bosses would be freed from their tower duties, they need to "rip off Peppino's wings" at any cost, even if they weren't aimed at fighting him.

Noise and Noisette are another couple who ended up in the tower in the same way as Pepperman and Vigilante. Noise hosts the news and weather forecast, and a small show similar to "Truth or Dare". Meanwhile, Noisette is still the same cafe owner.

Additional facts: Noise has a broken right wing, it was broken by Pizzahead when he tried to fly out of the tower for the first time, he broke it so much that now Noise can't fly at all, the wing has grown together crookedly and he is unable to straighten it and move it, so he flies with the help of a backpack on his back, which he can change to either a jet or a simple propeller; Noisette sometimes helps Noise with flying and how Noise injured his wing, she does not know to this day; I lied to you a little, Pizzahead kidnapped only Noise, and Noisette herself flew to PH when she was looking for him, and when she found him, so that PH would not harm her, he lies to her and offers to join Pizzahead, as he himself wanted.

Bruno is an unsuccessful clone, mixed with a regular bird and Peppino's DNA, created by PH. He can fly, but very ineptly because his arms replace his wings, which is why he falls and crashes into all sorts of possible objects, which is why he flaps his wings hard and pieces fly off from them, he can of course grow them, but this whole process takes a lot of his strength.

Additional facts: in addition to his speech, he makes a distorted bird sound; despite his inability to fly, the bosses (Pepperman, Vigilante and Noisette) still teach him to fly normally, they also additionally look after Bruno himself, feed him and teach him to speak, since PH himself does not do this; because of such care, Bruno accepts his friends more as parents, calling them accordingly (in the future, he will also call Peppino this way 😂)

Pizzahead is the main boss, a sadist and a psycho. He built a tower, around which a barrier in the form of clouds with a powerful lightning discharge is built, and in order to turn it off, you need to turn off the generators.

Additional facts: Pizzahead and Pizzaface in this AU are brothers, Pizzahead is younger; after one incident, his psyche was shaken, he was inspired to recreate the tower for his whims and "fun"; he cut off Pizzaface's wings and as a great and first trophy keeps them in his office along with John's wings and one wing of Jerome; those wings that Pizzahead himself is wearing are also "trophies", cut off from other creatures, but he tells everyone that they are fake and it's just a cape, he also participated in the war, but in secret from his brother, so that he "wouldn't worry" about him.

Pizzaface is Pizzahead's brother and ... a good guy? Yes! In this AU, he is not a bad character, but rather a good one. So in that encounter with Peppino, he just played the role of a bad guy. He is quiet (but he tries to be sociable) and traumatized. He does not often show himself to the other inhabitants of the tower, which is why few people know about him. Most of the time, he spends either in the secret room where Pizzahead keeps him, or with Jerome, helping him clean the tower.

Additional facts: because of the cut off wings, he feels weak and exhausted; he still does not know why Pizzahead acted so cruelly and what happened to his psyche, but he blames himself for this, that he was not caring enough and simply did not keep an eye on him; Pizzahead watches almost his every move so that he does not do stupid things and does not ruin his plans, and for the sake of PH he has to play the same role of a bad guy.

Jerome is a small pillar with one wing and memory loss due to a strong blow from Pizzahead. He is a simple cleaner. He does not remember anything about his brother or his past, although memories still pop up in his head. In the past, he had magic, but due to the loss of a wing and memory, he does not remember and cannot use it normally, over time, the skills were simply lost.

Additional facts: he is Pizzaface's best friend, and he sometimes helps him remember things, but he cannot (PF hopes that he will remember something); he has seen John many times as an ordinary part of the tower, but he cannot remember him or at least his name; initially, he was not supposed to be in the tower and Pizzahead wanted to throw him on a long flight, but Pizzaface somehow convinced him to leave him and just make him an ordinary cleaner.

Well, I hope you like this AU. Enjoy and have a nice flight!

[ethicalvinyls]

the bread bully

synopsis: ellie has been a bully to YN for a while—since she arrived to jackson. and it’s been killing yn… because she has a crush on ellie. and what’s worse, she’s friends with her friends dina and jesse. on her birthday they throw a small get together for her, but what yn doesn’t know is that ellie is invited too. tension is high.

pt 2 soon ?

________

If I was born 20 years before the apocalypse began, I would have been celebrating my 19th birthday by sneaking into 21+ bars and drinking odd combinations of drinks beside a hot woman. Instead, I am celebrating my 19th by opening my father’s bakery. I’m invited to Dina’s to drink and smoke with her and Jesse, but as I set up the shop, I remind myself of who enjoys hanging around them… 

Ellie has never liked me. I say that despite her recurring presence at the shop every week. In exchange for sweet treats, she slaps a rude comment across my face and waits for my reaction. Said comments never fail to dim my smile, which I assume is what she wants. 

I like Ellie. She’s gorgeous–from her build to her hair and skin; the freckles that dot her face and make her look like the inside of a holiday snowglobe. I’ve had a crush on her since the day she arrived in Jackson. But to confess that, especially now, is like making a terrible joke to a room full of snobby teenagers and waiting for them to laugh in your face. 

When I shut the door to the pretzel rack, the door to the shop swings open. I look to the floor, knowing who it is walking in–Ellie, of course, with her old raggedy Converse and faded black jeans. I turn around and plug the coffee machine in, the smell instantly pouring out. I may not be a rude person, but the least I can do is fill the room with the scent of black coffee. 

“Hey,” Ellie says, her singular word sending a deathly shock through my chest. It felt as though I ate a bag of needles. “Get me a couple of chocolate muffins.” 

I feel my jaw twitch. I hate serving people whose vocabulary lacks please, and thank you, or “Could I get,” instead of “Get me.” Also, what number is a couple? Am I supposed to know that? 

I roll my eyes and reach for my gloves. However, before I slide them on, I pause. “Excuse me?” I say, which would have worked if I responded immediately. Now I just sound stupid. 

“Get me a couple of muffins.” Ellie doesn’t move a muscle or even a stupid brain cell, by the looks of it. She doesn’t catch on to the fact that I won’t get her, however many muffins constitute ‘a couple’ until she asks for them respectfully. 

I drop my gloves and tightly grasp the counter until my knuckles turn white. “I know what you said, I just–” 

“Then why are you acting like you don’t?” Ellie snapped. 

“You are literally just telling me to get you shit without being respectful. It’s like you know I’ll have to give these muffins to you.” 

“You don’t have to,” she answers with a shrug. That stupid, ugly shrug she does when she wants to sound smart. Like she has the entire fucked up world in her hands and she can do as she pleases. “But isn’t that what you do? Serve people? That’s your job–to get me what I need.” 

“Yes, I serve people, but that doesn’t mean you can be a dick. Why don’t you just say please, or thank you or–” 

“YN!” my dad shouts from the kitchen. He steps out with a rag mushed up in his hands. “Stop being rude and give the lady what she wants. Just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean you can treat everyone how you want.”

I feel like ripping Ellie’s tongue out and slapping her with it. It was my birthday and she had already embarrassed me in front of my own dad. I was over her. 

“Oh shit!” Ellie exclaims. “It is your birthday, huh. That’s why I was invited to Dina’s.” 

I nodded. 

“Happy birthday young one,” she says as if she wasn’t rude to me a second ago. She pauses, steps back a bit, then taps her fingers against the countertop. “Could you still get me a couple of muffins though.” 

I rolled my eyes. “How many is a couple?” 

She scoffs. “Four.” 

I throw on my gloves, pick up her stupid muffins, and wrap them in the cloth she kindly slid onto the counter. I push them back to her and give her a curt smile. “Here ya’ go.” 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, grabbing her muffins and running off. 

It isn’t some kind of secret that I gained weight. Everyone knows, but no one has said  a thing. I guess it’s because it suits me well. I’ve been walking and running and lifting more than my dad, so I eat more. And with that… almost every part of my body has gained a bit of fat. The only issue is, my bra’s no longer fit. They suffocate my skin under my boobs and make them spill over. 

I stare at my body in the mirror and simply give up. My boobs are spilling out and I know my skin will bruise if I keep it on. I opt for a no bra kind of night, and wear two shirts: a spaghetti strap camisole and a long sleeve. I throw on my black jeans and boots and run over to Dina’s without saying a word to my dad. He knows where I’ll be. Plus, we already shared a birthday cake before we closed up shop. 

When I arrive at Dina's, I shove my shaking hands into my pockets. I don’t know if Ellie will be inside, but the thought of her staring into my soul with her ridiculing smile shakes me. 

The brown door swings open and there stands Dina holding a joint. “Come in,” she says with her large smile. 

I nod and step in, the shakiness slowly pooling beneath me. Until I hear the sound of her stupid Converse scuffing the floor followed by her laugh. All of a sudden the shakiness shoots up my body and paralyzes my bones. I stare at Dina as if Ellie didn’t tell me she was invited. I had an ounce of hope that she would decide to stay home–but she loved Jesse and Dina and wouldn’t miss hanging around them. 

“You okay?” Dina asks as her hand slides onto my shoulder. I flinch and my bones snap. 

I nod. “Yeah,” I respond, shaking my body out and taking a step. “Just forgot she’d be here.” 

She sighs and rubs her cool fingers down my shoulder. “Just… don’t acknowledge her.” 

I roll my eyes and walk past her, her hand falling and sweeping past my ass. “As if that’s easy to do.” 

She cackles and follows behind me to the kitchen where Jesse and Ellie are making drinks with homemade cranberry juice. They pick up the glasses without realizing we’re walking up to them. They almost drop them until I slide a hand over Ellie’s hip, gripping onto her and taking the drink from her hand. 

“Be careful,” I mutter and place the glass back on the counter. 

She clears her throat and steps back, her hands awkwardly maneuvering down her waist where she dusts her hips off. “You bumped into me,” she spits. 

“Sorry,” I say and raise my hands in mock defense. 

“Hmph,” she mutters. 

I laugh and take the glass back, sipping it quickly. “You surprised that someone has manners?” 

She wraps her hands around the counter and leans down until she’s staring down my eyes and breasts. “You’re still mad at me for that?” 

I take another sip and raise my eyebrows while the strong taste of liquor seeps down my throat. “No, just pointing it out,” I say, my voice implying another comment is lying on my tongue. 

She lets the silence become murderous before she speaks. A smart tactic, because I want to pull away and rethink all that I’ve said to her despite nothing overly insane snuck out of my mouth. I almost do–pull away and walk out of the room–but she speaks. 

“Why do you not like me?” she asks. She slides her hand across the surface and steals my drink–which was, I’m assuming, hers to begin with. She takes a sip and raises her eyebrows while I laugh absurdly. “What?”

I shake my head and push myself off the counter. I step back and shrug. “You asking that is the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” I tell her. “Which is crazy considering what you were telling me this morning.” 

She finishes the last of her drink and pushes it into the sink. She hurries to me in long strides and grabs onto me. I turn to look at Jesse and Dina, hoping one of them would look at me and pause the situation, but they’re laughing, fucking one another with their eyes. Ellie slides me back around and I follow her to the back porch. 

The door slams and I’m next: Ellie slams my body on top of hers as she drops onto a chair. I dig my nails into her shoulders and gasp in her face. The natural scent of mint and cranberry wafts back into mine and I swallow down my breath. 

I pat her shoulder where my nails sinked in and push away from her. However, she grasps my biceps and presses me back into place. 

I look at her with small eyes and a frown etched onto my mouth. “I’m trying to get off,” I utter. 

“I know,” she replies. “But just stay. I want to know all about your little resentment towards me.” 

I can’t help but roll my eyes for the fifth time. I look away at the reviving grass and laugh. 

“Why are you laughing?” 

“Because.” I return my focus onto her and my smile fades as she doesn’t have one across her face. “Because you hate me.” 

She scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “What?” she asks–like she doesn’t know what the hell I mean. “No, I don’t.” 

I push off her with enough force to bounce off her lap. I stumble over my boots but hold onto the wood pole behind me. “No, you don't?” I gasp, trying to catch my breath after almost dying. “You come into my shop almost every single day just to make fun of me.” 

“That’s not true.” 

I scoff and shake my head, in such an angering way that it might spin off and knock her unconscious. “How? Are you going to gaslight me into thinking I’m just going crazy? Because I’m not. I might be a little younger than you but that doesn’t make me clueless.” 

“I didn’t say you were,” she mutters. 

I purse my lips and throw my hands in the air. Why try with this girl if it’s going to end in me almost popping a blood vessel. 

“I can’t fucking stand you,” I exclaim and walk back into the house. I walk directly to Jesse who is so happily making drinks in the kitchen. I grab the whiskey bottle and pour it directly into a glass. I’m not much of a whiskey drinker, but why not. 

I take the full glass to the front porch and drink it slowly as I look at the remaining people entering their homes after a long day. Soon enough, the streets will be empty and I’ll be left with the sound of chirping cicadas. 

And slowly, it does happen. I continue sipping on the never-empty whiskey in my glass and listen to the insects rummaging in the shrubs. No one really interrupts me besides Jesse who comes out to fill my glass and ask how I am. I say I’m fine, but he knows I’m not–he senses something happened with Ellie earlier, but he doesn’t ask. He knows I’ll talk about it later. 

As the night gets more lonely and darker, I feel the whiskey warming up my body. At one point my nipples were harder than rocks and I began shivering, but now I feel like a blanket has slid across my entire body. 

I feel nothing. Not even the disappointment from Ellie treating me like trash. But I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to act as if nothing happened when I brought it up. Now I just feel stupid. 

A knock at the door alarms me. I turn around and almost sink into the wooden steps. Ellie stands there with a joint in between her fingers with a box of matches and a drink in her other hand. 

“I’m okay,” I tell her and turn around. “Tell Dina and Jesse that I’m good.” 

“It’s your birthday,” she says. 

“Yeah,” I mumble, “I know.” 

“So why have you been outside for the entirety of this celebration? You do know this is for you, right? It’s not Dina or Jesse’s birthday.” 

“If you’re here to make me feel more like shit, you’ve done your job. Now please, go back inside.” 

“No.” 

“Ellie!” I exclaim, setting my glass down and wobbling up onto my feet. “What the fuck is your deal? Go back inside and leave me alone!” 

She extends her hand, palm up with the joint laying across it. “Peace offering.” 

I shake my head. “You just came out here and told me I ruined the night.” 

“Not what I said.” 

“You essentially did.” 

“Did the exact words come out of my mouth?” 

“Fuck you,” I spit, and bend down to collect my drink. But I guess I’m not as balanced as I thought I was, so I almost slam onto the ground. 

Ellie reaches out for me and grabs my waist, sitting me down alongside her. “Be careful,” she tells me, copying my words from earlier. 

“I don’t like you,” I mutter. 

“Cool,” she replies. She places the joint between her lips and lights it with the already burning match. She sucks in and blows out, the strong smell of weed funneling into my nose. “You wanna hit?” 

I take the joint and suck in as hard as I can. I almost cough out a lung, so I sip on my whiskey. Ellie doesn’t ask if I’m okay, but I have a feeling she cares because she takes the joint from me and grabs her drink. She pushes away my whiskey glass and instantly I drink whatever is in her cup. 

Juice. Homemade apple juice. 

I wrap my hands around her own and sip until there is nothing left. Her laugh overflows my senses after I drink enough to burst my bladder. She takes the empty cup and sets it on the ground, the same hand settling down on my back two seconds later. I feel her fingertips rolling over my spine and I shiver. I know what she’s doing–she wants to sleep with me so she can prove that despite being an asshole, you can still have your way; because she always does, have her way. 

I swivel around and stare at her and the hand that has fallen onto her lap. She runs it down her thigh then digs her nails into her knee. 

“What?” she asks. “Did I do something?” 

I nod and stand up, my balance remaining wobbly. “Yes. I mean, you come out here to talk trash about me, then you let me hit a joint, and you let me drink some of your juice. And it’s all for you to try and seduce me. So you can show everyone in Jackson how much of a spoiled whore you are.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows crinkle and her mouth falls into a frown. She stands up and walks towards me, her hand stretched out in an attempt to make me stand still. I stand still, but not for her. I want to let my words knock her down. 

“I’m not going to be another gay girl in Jackson that gives you what you want,” I tell her. Ellie seems hurt, her shoulders dragging on the ground, her chest heaving like I punched the air out of her. I shouldn’t care because she never does, but I feel like sewing my lips together. “What number am I?” 

“Stop,” Ellie mumbles. “That’s not even it. I’m not trying to seduce you, Y/N. I was trying to be nice .” 

I scoff. “Oh really?” 

She turns around and walks down the steps, kicking down the cup in her path. I don’t have a clue where she’s going, but with the guilt slowly chewing my insides, I follow her. 

I say Ellie’s name. 

She turns around and tries to walk faster, but there is nowhere to go or hide that I wouldn’t know of, so she stalls. “What?” she huffs. 

“I sounded rude,” I tell her. 

“Okay?” 

“I should have tried to word it differently.” 

She turns around with a smile. She dips her hands into her pockets and begins cackling, her hair shaking out of its ponytail. “You were rude, and you never are. It’s cool. Just surprised that you called me out on my shit.” 

I shake my head and head over to her. I stand directly in front of her with only a foot of distance between us. “I like you, Ellie,” I whisper. “But it hurts knowing you mess with other girls in Jackson. And you’re being mean to the one girl that truly likes you.” 

She avoids my gaze, instead shoving her fists deeper into her men’s jeans. I want to shout at her to look at me. How is it that she can throw foolish words at me while staring me down but as soon as I confess to her that it hurts liking her because of this, she can’t even bare her eyes. 

I laugh and take a step back. “You won’t even look at me when I’m talking to you. This means a lot to me–just telling you how I feel! And you won’t even share a fucking glance.” 

I stand there hoping she’s only quiet because she’s forming a coherent apology, but all she does is rock back and forth with a cold look on her face. 

I nod. She’s not going to apologize. She doesn’t even feel bad for what she’s done to me. So I back away and turn around, the alcohol draining from the bottom of my feet. 

— 

I’m sober when I walk back to Dina’s. I pick up my shattered glass outside and throw it into the trash. I pick the glass out of my hands and bandage it up. All in silence. Music streams from some part of the house, but I can only hear my humming. 

Dina and Jesse are somewhere, but I don’t know nor care. I just clean up and leave. 

I’m on my way home when I see a shadow grow behind me. The smell of pine–that isn’t the trees around me–invades my nose and I begin walking faster. 

My name is called a matter of three times before I even acknowledge it. 

“What?!” I shout. “Leave me alone, Ellie. I don’t want to talk to you.” 

Her body speed walks beside me. “Can you just listen?” 

“To your dumbass apology?” I ask. “No.” 

“Y/N,” she pleads. “Just look at me.” 

I scoff. “Why should I? You didn’t do the same for me.” 

“Okay well I’m looking at you right now. And I want you to look at me so I can offer a true apology.” 

I try to walk even faster to my house. Right now I’d rather run into the forest and let the clickers eat me. 

“Y/N!” she exclaims. 

I want to cry. I desperately need to release a tear. 

Ellie shoves herself in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “Please,” she says. “Please just listen.” 

I look into her eyes with a tear plopping onto my cheek. I shake my head and grab her hands, shoving them off me. “Why would I after you’ve spent so long ridiculing me in front of my own family?” I cry. “Fuck off Ellie. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

I push past her and make it to my house three minutes later. I push the door open and as soon as I step one foot inside, I cry my lungs out.

[sixofsol]

@johaerys-writes tagged my main (@heypax) for this, but since ive talked about my fics more on this blog i decided to do it here instead !

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26!

2. What is your AO3 word count?

151,778

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I mean, I haven’t written anything for anything but six of crows since like year back… But! I do miss writing patrochilles, and tsoa is the fandom i’ve written the absolute most for! If we’re looking back, I’ve written hadestown, steven universe, haikyuu!! and a bunch more years ago.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

we were shotgun lovers // I’m a shotgun running away - six of crows, wesper, 772 kudos

like moss climbs a tree - song of achilles, patrochilles, 446

i want someone to try, and let me down easy — six of crows, wesper, 405 kudos

from the outside looking in - the song of achilles, patrochilles, 371 kudos

twisted roots and sunny days, the song of achilles, patrochilles, 363 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

YES if i dont miss when i get them (i dont have the email motifs on) i always do ! it means so much someone commented and i always love having a lil conversation about this thing that i wrote.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

as much of an lover i am of hurt no comfort i very rarely write it lmao but a lot of my tsoa fics had sad endings. autumn’s coming around is the first one that popped into mind, but that’s at least slightly open ? i’ll hold your hand while you drown, less so.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I feel like a lot of my fics have equally happy endings haha, the one that came to mind was our hair tangled in the breeze, simply because its a happy ending canon complaint tsoa fic which is a feat lmao

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nope the closets ive ever come was when i was 12 and people were like nice story but god your grammar and spelling is terrible! which was fair!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

nah I’m a fade to black kinda girlie

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I never anymore but well,, Once upon a time i was 14 and obsessed with glee and sherlock and well….

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not as far as ik

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope !

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

nope, but I would enjoy trying!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

…this is hard because wesper has been running around in my head for a year but simply cause ive been obsessed with patrochilles longer im still gonna say them

15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?

I’d love to continue for everyone im about to prove wrong, and I think I even have a mostly finished chapter lying around somewhere, but I’ve just not had the inspiration rip.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at writing characters in general, especially when it’s from their pov. first person pov my beloved.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I’m not really a person who uses a lot of metaphors of writes flowery language, but i wish i was!! i love very beautiful language and poetic writing but i just don’t do that that much im pretty straight forward, which isn’t a bad thing but I wish i could expand a bit more.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

takes me out the story way too much, it’s fine if it’s like one word every now and then but nah. ive read a couple of young royals fics, and as a swedish speaker its a bit jarring to suddenly have swedish words there lmao

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If non published count, harry potter. if only published, glee!

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

i’m gonna be fair to myself and choose one for soc and one for tsoa.

autumn’s coming around for tsoa and a fire died last winter for soc, which ironically are my least popular fics in the respective fandoms!

thank you !! and im tagging @leglesslouie @jackwolfes @wesperbrekkered @deathless--aphrodite

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 5 “Drunken Fart Contest” [Episode List] After one of their usual nights out with their friends, Dave and another bud, Adam, end up being really drunk. Luckily, it was Tim’s turn to be the designated driver, so he’s perfectly able to drive. The two drunk friends, however, are really, really gassy…

Drunken Fart Contest

2:00 a.m. The party was getting out of control, as predicted. Almost everyone was completely drunk or confused. I heard some plates breaking in the kitchen: good thing this is not my house. Whose birthday was again? The music is still loud, playing through some speakers carefully placed in strategic locations of the room as some dizzy guests danced –or, more precisely, staggered to the rhythm of it.

Whatever was going to happen next, I didn’t really care: it was my turn to drive, so I was literally the only sane guy at the party. My pals asked me to take them out of there around 1:30 a.m., but since we were having fun, we lost the track of time. I eventually found both Dave -you know him, and Adam, another friend of mine, around my age as well. They probably had alcohol instead of blood in their veins by far.

“You’re such a cock-blocker!” Adam hissed at me, since I –according to him- ruined every chance with a girl he was hitting on. Too bad this girl passed out 15 minutes ago and my tipsy friend didn’t seem to notice at all. Oh well, it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.

Dave was definitely more collaborative: he had this silly smile drawn on his face, probably because he made out with some hot girl in the other room. His sweat-soaked shirt was partly unbuttoned too, so maybe he was heading second base without even noticing.

“Ok guys, here we go…”

We eventually reached my car, parked just outside the loud house. Some fellow guests were lying on the grass in the front-yard, either laughing or smoking: they were fine, some of them even said ‘hi’ to me as I walked past them. I opened the rear door of the car on and forced Adam to go inside, who muttered something about how I ruined everything with the woman of his dreams. He then tripped and fell in the car, lying on his stomach, looking more like a corpse.

“He’s dead…” Dave simply commented. Not very helpful.

Adam’s place was our first stop. Our houses weren’t really far away from each other, but I tend to drive slowly, especially during weekend nights, for obvious reasons. Adam, still lying on his belly, probably passed out. I checked on him via the rear-view mirror, unwillingly triggering my gay senses: all I could see was his grey skinny jeans sagging, exposing his black underwear, the latter hugging his surprisingly bubbly butt.

I ignored that vision and turned to Dave, my co-pilot and the guy in charge for the music. He was fine, better than my other friend, that’s for sure. We chatted a bit, as he noticed that I was tired, keeping me focused on the street. After a while, however, he chuckled and lowered the volume of the radio, almost setting it to mute.

“I think you’ll like this song more, listen…” he said, with his well-known smirk.

I knew what was going to happen. I was actually surprised that it was only happening now, considering that alcohol always made Dave really gassy. He spread his legs a bit, visibly pushing one out and glanced at me one last time before the “thunder” almost made me swerve.

The sound was loud, even though it was partially muffled by the (lucky) car seat. It was very dry-sounding and manly, almost like a long, enormous morning fart.

“Aw… come on…” Adam muttered, as Dave’s flatulence literally woke him up.

My gassy friend laughed as he leaned a bit. He was basically indirectly farting in my face, not even caring about the presence of our friend. I had to keep my eyes on the road, trying not to admire my friend’s denim-covered ass. The fart lasted around 14 seconds, one of his longest blasts I believe. It was followed by his friendly laughter as he gently patted my shoulder, as if he every time wanted to make sure that he was ok with me, my weird fetish and that I had nothing to worry about; and I always appreciate his gentle mannerisms, despite the rudeness of his manly rips.

The smell hit us all soon, especially because the windows were locked. Bad choice. It was already too disgusting even for me, a nose-killing stench mixed with the already awful aroma from our sweat-soaked shirts.

“You’re disgusting, Dave!” my other friend said from the back seat, trying not to laugh.

“Thanks, Ady! Glad you appreciated!”

Dave leaned a bit again and ripped another loud toot, lasting only a couple of seconds this time. Truly a proud farter, indeed. Adam clapped his hands sarcastically, laughing a bit.

“Sure… really impressive…” he said, still lying on his stomach.

A moment silence, then another fart begun, but it was not from Dave. Maybe it was the dizziness, the alcohol, but Adam started to rip one too. I checked again on him via the rear-mirror and I could see his bubbly butt erupting this extremely loud, high-pitched fart. It started kinda weak, only to become louder and manlier as seconds passed. Dave laughed, knowing that I was living both in a nightmare and in a beautiful dream at the same time, visibly amused by my weird situation. As the blast continued, Adam slowly wiggled his butt left and right, the tone of the fart changing a bit; he laughed as his 12-seconds rip started to fade into silence.

Now it was Dave the one clapping his hands. “Bravo!” he commented, as we all bursted into laughter. I didn’t know if it was because of my boner or the farts, but the car’s temperature seemed to raise a lot so I had no choice but to lower the car windows, also because the smell was getting too unbearable (yes, even for me). I felt the colder wind from outside brushing through my hair, my nostrils still sensing Dave and Adam’s farts.

Seconds passed, but the smell was, strangely enough, still there, all around my face. As I heard my friends’ laughing almost to tears, I understood why; I couldn’t hear it at first because of the sounds of the traffic, but they both started ripping one big fart at the same time the moment I rolled down the window; once I noticed it, I heard the sound too: it was insane, out of this world; two giant farts being ripped at unison. Dave pointed his index finger up as the farts continued, as if he was some kind of orchestra leader, and looked at me with a smirk, knowing that I was enjoying every moment of that gassy jam session.

I didn’t even know how much time passed this time, maybe 20 seconds. They laughed again, finally ending their unusual fart concert and complimented each other. I wish the trip lasted longer. I was ridiculously aroused. Was this a fart-contest? Because I’m pretty sure they’re both won.

Eventually, we arrived to Adam’s place; he was feeling better as he got up on his own, adjusted his hair a bit and patted his hands on our shoulders. “Thanks for the lift, cock-blocker!” he said, punching my shoulder in a friendly manner.

We made sure he got into his house safely and then headed to Dave’s. Only a couple of minutes later, I parked in front of his garage, both listening to some more music from the radio before ending the night-out. We kept chatting about the party, the host’s poor taste in music, but it was getting really late and the we didn’t want to wake up the entire neighbourhood.

“Alright, Tim. See ya tomorrow I guess…”

We bro-fisted, more than aware of how cheesy that was, and he opened the door.

“Oh, by the way…” again that smirk. “I am the fart master…”

He got out of the vehicle and closed the door behind him. Dave then squeezed his butt in loose jeans, almost sagging, through the car window a bit, and proceeded to rip yet another loud fart, this time just for me. I didn’t even time to react as I felt the warm gas engulfing the entire car, the smell becoming once again unbearable; it sounded like a loud chainsaw and lasted about 8 seconds.

My friend was just as surprised as me by the blast’s loudness and quickly got his butt out of my car, as some of the neighbours’ dogs started barking, hilariously annoyed by Dave’s fart.

“Oh my…” we both muttered, laughing.

I immediately started the car as my gassy friend rushed inside the house (this time he didn’t forget his house-keys). As I drove back to my house, I couldn’t help but smile the whole time: my best friends are gassy idiots; and that’s perfect. But Dave… well, he’s the best of all, farts or not. Whether the case, I really should plan a road-trip with him some day. And just thinking about that made my dick aroused again…

End of Episode 5

[kurlyfrasier]

Love Unknown (Part 1)

My dearest, most patient Nonny (you know who you are). I give you; PART ONE of your request. I hate that you’ve had to wait such a ridiculously long time for your request, so I thought I’d go ahead and give you the first bit. I hope you enjoy! Also, you never specified if you wanted the Reader and Raph to be in a relationship already so I hope you don’t mind that they are not in one at the moment.

Pairing: Raph x Reader

The Request (includes obvious warnings): its about angst, (spoiler), fight, blood and (spoiler again). ok, raph had a fight with reader so he say bad things to her, so he listens music (ZAYN & Sia - Dusk Till Dawn) because he was sad and crying but she could never hate raph, so after raph... (I’m leaving this part out of the request so there’s not so many spoilers) ....so he goes to reader and they make up. (possible trigger warning in tags that I took out of this request; may have to expand tags to see it)

A/N: I actually don’t watch any of the TMNT series’ so I know nothing about Destructor X (I’m assuming that’s who you wanted as the villain. I had to look it up). So, I took the liberty of changing the villain to one I know a tiny, itty bitty bit more about. I sincerely apologize if this ruins it for you. Also, this is a first draft.

Disclaimer: I own no TMNT anything, nor do I know any NYC geography, song belongs to Zayn & Sia, and last - but not least - Nonny owns this lovely, specific request! Honestly, I could do SO MUCH with this and it was hard to choose how to go about it. Last thing, I promise: If anyone thinks of a better title, PLEASE SHARE IT cuz I am terrible at coming up with titles.

Word Count: 1189

Raph fell onto his bed with a loud huff, body trembling from the hours-long workout he just finished. Yet, he was still angry - at himself more so than you. The words he spouted at you in a jealous rage- He shook his head, barely hearing the music blasting through his overly-large headphones as he recalled you wrestling with Mikey. His hand hovered, prepared to rip his headphones off, when the song changed to one you must have added to his playlist. You always did silly things like that; instilling bits of yourself into the turtles lives. They all loved it. 

Especially him. 

Especially on the days when you weren’t able to come visit.

Today had not been one of those days, but he had ruined it minutes into your visit.

His arm landed heavily next to him. Savoring the song, he closed his eyes. Unable to stop himself from falling for you even harder than he already had. A tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. Everything about the song reminded him of how he wished he could be with you. How he wanted to be there with you from dusk to dawn. How he wished to watch the sunrise with you. How he wished he had the right to touch you as the song implied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Something’s wrong,” Donnie whispered to Leo, pointing to a large screened device as Raph walked into the dojo, ready for patrol. “Her phone suddenly disconnected and I can’t pinpoint her on the GPS.”

Raph froze at his brother’s words, stomach sinking. He had a gut feeling they were talking about you. 

“Has she ever turned off her phone before?” Leo asked quietly, voice calm.

“Never,” Donnie emphatically shook his head, looking more worried by the second. “I’ve explained to her that she has to make sure her phone never dies and she nevers turns it off. Otherwise, if something happens…” He let the sentence hang.

“It’s possible (Y/n) forgot to charge her phone and-”

“That wouldn’t happen Leo!” Donnie whisper-shouted, shooting daggers at their brother. “She’s more responsible than that.”

“I know, I know,” Leo raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll go check her apartment and make sure everything’s okay.”

“What about R-”

“Don’t say anything until I get back,” Leo turned on his heel to find the very brother he was hoping to avoid, eyes widening slightly before forcing a neutral expression once more.

“Where ya goin’?” Raph asked, feigning nonchalance. Inside, he was raging, blood deafeningly pumped through his veins.

“Just getting some fresh air before we head out on patrol, is all,” he lied, making his way out of the dojo.

“I call bull,” Raph stated, eyes cold as he challenged their so-called leader, grabbing his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “What’s going on,” he growled out.

“It could be nothing, Raph. Calm-”

“(Y/n)’s phone is off,” Leo snapped his head in Donnie’s direction to find him marching their way. “Last I saw, she was headed East on Michigan Avenue.”

“When?”

“A couple of hours ago-”

“And you didn’t think to wake me!?” Raph released Leo to shake some sense into Donnie. He may have been a genius, but he could be a real dunce sometimes. “What if somethin’ happened to her! Huh!? What then!?”

“I thought-”

“It don’t matter what ya thought, Donnie!” Raph roared, shoving his brother away, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Next thing Raph knew, he and his brothers were topside, rain beating down on them in torrents as they headed East on Michigan, but he didn’t feel the cold. His only thoughts were of you; your scent, your hair, your laugh, that spark in your eye when you were up to something - or angry, now that he thought about it. Point was, if anything happened to you… he would never be able to forgive himself. Heck, he wasn’t sure he would live. You were his sunshine on his darkest days, the one thing he looked forward to most was seeing your smiling face. Not that you knew this, especially after your fight earlier in the day. 

One thing he knew for certain, on top of all that, was that he would never deserve you.

He was a monster. Something he proved all too well earlier that day and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if you hated him for it. Even he knew that he blew up for no good reason. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were drenched, and not from the sprinkle of rain that hit you- how long ago was it now? You didn’t know. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The warm, thick liquid dripped down your temple from the last blow Karai had given you with the butt of her tanto blade. Eyes closed, you let out a groan, head pounding from the memory.

They had left you; the lowly Foot Clan soldiers and Karai, but you knew they’d be back for more. Considering how silent you were about the turtles whereabouts, you basically guaranteed yourself a nice, long torture. Karai just had to go get her ‘tools’, as she called them. Personally, you thought her fists, feet, and tantos were enough. 

Opening your eyes, you sought a way to escape. Not that you had any luck so far ridding yourself of the deadly tight ropes tying you to the hard, metal chair you sat in. Still, the thought of escape had you squinting into the darkened room. The only light was when lightning struck in the sky, seeping through the windows close to the ceiling. There were a few open, allowing the booming thunder to roll easily to your ears and rain to drip down the walls. Stacks of boxes surrounded you. If they weren’t too terribly heavy, you might be able to move a stack to create a makeshift staircase to the windows. You wriggled, but it only seemed to tightened the ropes at your wrists and ankles.

With a deep breath you thought of Raph. He was your best friend. If you were to die tonight you hoped he knew you didn’t hate him. Knowing him, that’s exactly what was running through his head. He was so passionate about everything he did. He felt everything so much more than you did, it seemed. Except for maybe one thing; your love for him. Nothing he ever did or said would ever turn your heart away from him. Granted, you did wonder what shot him off this time. He almost never took his anger out on you unless you did something dangerous; like try to follow him on patrol or go through dark alleys or- Well, the list went on. You did like pushing his buttons, but you liked how much he worried over you even more. 

The small smile that crept onto your lips faded the moment Karai slammed open the door, making a grand entrance with a wheeled table covered in objects that reflected the bit of light that now lit the room, giving it an almost romantic glow. It was a small fight to stop the laugh that bubbled in your throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

[creativeashproductions]

What If...? II // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: After playing The Orpheum things were looking up, Sunset Curve bought the house that owned the studio the band used. Alex lived in a safe environment will only love, Reggie didn’t feel like a ghost in his house and Luke was no longer sleeping on a couch. Life is good until it isn’t.

Warnings: Swearing, accident, injuries, angst, car accident (this was written before If I Stay)

Words: 2.7k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . There will be more parts, total coincidence that it has a car accident. Also appears when I try solely fluff it turns into painful angst. My apologies, the next part will be better but also prepare for it too.

A/N: Sorry for disappearing. I have Lost Time Part 2 finished, If I Stay Part 2 is also finished but I really want to put a new part out for What If...? so here you go!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood, 1996

A hot cup of your morning brew cradled in your hand you stared out the window to the garage where Sunset Curve had practiced for years. A year had passed since The Orpheum; the band got signed to a label with an EP being dropped. The moment money came to the band Luke, Alex and Reggie had pooled money to buy the house the garage belonged to. You just happened to be over a lot still being seventeen.

“Hey,” Luke spoke, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his body tight against yours. His chin resting on your shoulder as his hand swiped the mug to take a swig from it.

“Hey!”

“Don’t sound so offended.” Luke chuckled, “I’ve tasted other things that belong to you.”

“Disgusting.” Alex gagged walking by the couple with distaste written clearly all over his face. He adored you two together, but he didn’t like the activities that you frequently did behind closed doors.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play wrestle in the middle of the night.” Reggie scoffed heading up the stairs to his room while Alex blinked after him.

“I- and he wonders why he’s still single.” Alex sighed, heading to the living room to watch a film whereas Bobby was grabbing a quick drink before leaving. The only member of the band that didn’t live in the house but then again, he didn’t have issues with his parents; well if he did, he never told anyone else.

A snicker fell from your lips as a deep chuckled vibrated through the body courtesy of Luke’s close quarters with you. His arms tightened when you shifted in his arms, glancing at his watch before you pushed the mug back into his hand.

“Gotta go.” You sighed, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek and freeing yourself from his warm embrace to nab the bag from the chair. Luke released a whine detesting the emptiness in his arms, “As much as I would have to stay and cuddle all day, I have plans.”

Luke released a long sigh with a nod glancing as Bobby’s gaze fixated your form heading for the front door. He snapped out of it when Luke hit his chest.

“C’mon man! That’s my girl.” Luke scoffed, making his way for the stairs, “Go, home, dude.”

Bobby did as he was told glancing up at the ceiling where each boy would be in their bedrooms until practice later that night. Bobby couldn’t help that he found you attractive, but he would never step over the line with his bandmate. You were already gone when Bobby got outside and the harsh glare on the back of his head from Luke.

Lance had picked up his daughter itching to play you the bones of the new song he had recorded with the band. It was by far his favourite one given that it was centered on you growing up which he both hated and loved. He had missed more of your life than he cared to admit so it is the last year before you would leave the house, he had taken a break from touring.

“It’s not fully finished. The working title is Bittersweet.” Your father spoke glancing over, “It’s slower than our usual song, but I have ideas.”

“What was the inspiration?” You questioned leaning your head back to glance over at him. A small smile tugged at the rock star in the driver’s seat.

“Almost twenty-years ago a struggling musician snuck into a concert he couldn’t afford. A struck of luck had a pretty ballet dancer attending too. It was an odd love story, and that musician had a double miracle. Eighteen years ago, he met the second love of his life.” Lance had a way with words that entranced anyone, whether it be musically or not.

“That musician was you.” You took a guess that ended up being right when Lance nodded, “Dad.”

“I was hoping you would harmonize on it with me? My sound guy is incorporating your voice as a baby, and in the ending, I want you to say something.”

A bright smile turned the corners of your mouth up while silent tears rolled down your cheeks at the idea he had. At that moment, you also decided to keep the collaboration and song a secret from your boyfriend and friends.

“I’d love to.” You spoke swiftly hugging his arm before he was shoving you back to your seat and his arm slung in front of you.

A blindly light made its presence known for a second before a loud crack shattered around you and your body was slammed the dash—a scream coming from your father before everything went quiet. You prone form slumped onto the crushed door unaware of the cries taking place outside the car.

Lance moaned fluttering his eyelids as consciousness brought him into the world again. His brain struggling to make sense of why the car was on its side. It connected when his first thought was his daughter.

“Sweetheart.” Lance’s tongue caught the copper taste in his mouth, but it was the petrifying taste fear that lingered as he received no response.

Straining his neck, he could see now you were laying against the crushed passenger door of the car; the car on its side with Lance strapped to the seat. A sharp cry released as he caught the blood coating the profile of his little girl. A haunting sound of Bittersweet filled the car among Lance’s sobs.

In the home of Sunset Curve, it was notoriously known that the only channel on TV was MTV, never the news. As usual, the guys were fighting over what kind of pizzas, they should order unaware of the countless news reports on a car crash. It wouldn’t be under hours later that they found out.

“Guys!” Alex’s head snapped up as Bobby struggled to breathe in the entrance of the kitchen, leaving the front door wide open.

“Mushrooms Bobby?” Reggie inquired oblivious to the tension radiating off the rhythm guitarist. Bobby had enough sweat it was like they had just finished a fifteen song setlist under boiling lights.

“Have you guys seen MTV?” Bobby demanded gaining the attention of his three bandmates as looking lost at the uncharacteristic anxious boy.

“Is our song playing?” Luke spoke, leaning over the island with a grin. His messy hair almost covering his hazel eyes.

Bobby didn’t reply other than to rush over to the tv to get to MTV. Instead of music blasting the house, a somber person was sitting on a chair.

“The musical world is struggling as the world waits for news on musician Lancaster Jameson following a car accident early this afternoon. Little news has been released on the circumstances leading to the crash on the occupants with both vehicles.” The man spoke sitting on a stool behind a makeshift desk.

Luke’s heart dropped at the words that rocked him to the core. His body working on autopilot was already moving to the door, he needed to be there for you. You must be terrified for your father. Luke had to be there for you. He just didn’t know you were in the car as well.

“An emergency response official revealed, however, that as they used the jaws of life, a song was still playing. A song very unlike anything Lancaster’s band has released before.”

A taxi, courtesy of Alex, pulled up beside the lead singer with his friend helping him into the backseat before joining him as well. Little did they know about the scene at the hospital.

Your mother, Nancy, sat silently ripping apart a Kleenex a nurse had graciously given the woman as she waited with bated breath. Her pallor pale and gaunt under the harsh hospital lights where she waited to hear the news for her family. Her tears began to fall as Luke, and his bandmate appeared in the ER.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Alex spoke, heading straight for the woman pushing the fears and anxious feelings to be dealt with at another time.

The woman couldn’t look Luke in the eye, knowing that the media had been issued legal documents to ensure you were kept out of the news. The lawyers had swiftly jumped on that part of the accident while your mother worried herself with the what-ifs swirling in her head.

“Luke.” She breathed, leaning to pull the teenager into a hug, “I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”

“I understand. You need to focus on Lance.” Luke supplied, stepping back to look around the room for you. His brows furrowed at the lack of evidence you were there, “Where’s Y/N?”

Nancy’s eyes watered further at the mention of her daughter still in surgery looking over to Alex, who collapsed into the chair understanding the look. Luke didn’t see it.

“I suppose the lawyers did an excellent job.” Nancy sighed, digging deep inside herself to lead the teenage boy to the chairs be had settled into, “I’m very sorry, Luke. Our lawyers reacted to the accident, but Lance’s name was already released. He wasn’t alone.”

“Y/N-“

“She’s in surgery right now.” Nancy’s voice broke slumping into the chair, returning to shredding the Kleenex in her hand. Alex was stock still in his chair, “I’ve been told she was lucky. There hasn’t been news on Lance yet.”

“Oh my god.” Luke breathed, staring at the scuffed shoes he had had for years by now with a little doodle you had done one night. The world faded as Luke went over a single moment, he had shared with you, and something burned; something he had carried for months now felt heavier than ever before.

Hours went by for Luke, Alex and your mother slowly the ER waiting room grew to have Reggie for support. He was the most serious he had been in his entire life; he had contacted the Patterson family but pleaded they wait for news at home. Reggie knew Luke wouldn’t be able to deal with his unresolved issues with his parents and the grief.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” A doctor wearing scrubs called outgaining the attention of Nancy who rushed up to the older doctor, “Please follow me.”

Nancy wavered in her steps as the doctor brought the middle-aged woman to a quiet room where the sound of a heart monitor beeped. Nancy was quick to rush over to the body, resting still out from the medication.

“Y/N.” Your mother breathed collapsing into a chair where she grasped your hand tightly. Her eyes took in the superficial cuts on your face and the brace on your wrist.

“She’s miraculously lucky for the severe car accident, she has a minor concussion along with a broken wrist. We had to remove her appendix or spleen, but she’ll be fine. The seat belt, however, snapped upon impact.” The doctor spoke facing the sobbing woman with pity in his eyes, “By the bruise across her chest we can see that your husband protected her, the media calls with ‘being soccer mom’d’ or my daughter does. Had he not done that the injuries would have been too severe to survive or she would have been in a vegetative state for the rest of her life.”

“Lance. Is he okay?”

“We need to talk about that. If you could follow me, we’ll let your daughter rest.”

Sunset Curve came to an early hiatus in their music career as Luke refused to leave your room from the moment he was allowed. When visitor hours were up, you could find him in his car struggling from sneaking into your room, but the warning of charges from the guard kept him in his place. For the first time in his life, Luke had no urge to put pen to paper or strum a single tune on his guitar.

He would stay silent in the chair beside your bed, holding tight to your hand in despair and guilt. He would, of course, visit Lance when your mother came to see you, they traded off not wanting either one to be alone.

A moan from the bed brought the attention of Luke and Alex, who had visited today to convince his best friend to come home for a shower.

“Baby?” Luke lunged closer as your eye fluttered open scanning the room with bleary eyes and sadness, “Hey.”

“Why are you holding my hand?” You questioned glancing at the hand intertwined with yours. Luke’s face dropped stumbling back at the look you cast him.

 “You don’t-“

“I woke up from an accident, and you can’t hug me?” You finished staring at the boy down, unaware the delivery of the question could very well be better than it was. Luke heaved a sigh gently, pulling you into a hug.

“That was cruel. I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“Luke forgetting you is like forgetting what the moon is.” You spoke wincing as you leaned back, “What’s the damage?”

Luke’s eyes glared at the nonchalant behaviour you displayed. At the same time, he was an utter mess from a week of sleeplessness and crippling fear. Alex’s deep sigh as he pushed down on Luke’s shoulders to place him back in the chair.

“The damage is you’ve been unconscious for a week with a minor concussion, a broken wrist, a bruised knee that was recently diagnosed, you are one spleen less, and you won’t have to worry about getting appendicitis. You will be incredibly sore from the bruises as well.” Alex supplied leaning to gently hug your form for even if you were dating his ex you had quickly grown to be a surrogate little sister.

“Oh.” You blinked, turning to stare at the wall, “What about my Dad?”

“He’s fine. He’s been struggling with orderlies every day to escape to check on you.” Luke spoke, “Your mom and I have had to do shifts between rooms during visitation hours. Security wasn’t happy to find me in here after hours.”

“Good.” You nodded leaning back in the bed staring up at the ceiling muttering a reply when Alex murmured, he would head to tell your parents you were awake.

Luke once had romantic plans before the accident, but when he found out about your accident, everything hit him. What-ifs of never living his dreams with you, of the things he might never get to do.

“Your hand better heal fast so that brace can come off.” Luke spoke, keeping his gaze on your face entirely in love with you. Your look of confusion amusing him, “Well how will the ring fit?”

“Ring?” You questioned becoming owl-eyed when Luke pulled out a stunning ring from his pocket, “Oh my god.”

“You tend to change my plans with everything you do. I was going to have this big speech and a romantic dinner, but I can’t wait.” Luke spoke, leaning to wipe away a tear from your eye, “I never want to be that scared again so until I can blow your socks off with a better proposal will you marry me?”

Your hand cupped the smooth cheek of the boy you loved more than words could ever say, “No.”

Luke’s heart broke at the words he never anticipated to hear, “What?”

“I say this because I love you, but I don’t want to go into an engagement with bad blood between you and your parents. You’ve shown them that your dream was worth it, but now you have to reach out. I want only happiness when we get engaged.”

Luke nodded his head, putting the ring back in his pocket, disappointed in the response, but what could he do? You gave a reason, and while definitely annoyed him he couldn’t fault your compassionate nature. For once in your entire relationship, the silence was awkward.

“So…” You trailed off, avoiding looking at Luke, “Have you decided on a tracklist for the album?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Luke shook his head only to be relieved when your parents came into the room. Nancy was already crying as she collapsed into the chair.

“Oh baby.” Nancy spoke, pressing a kiss to the bruised forehead you currently rocked. Lance scowled as he was rolled closer to the bed by the orderly.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled as your mom scanned every part of you, “Seriously!”

“I almost lost my baby.” Your mom snapped before apologizing at raising her tone, “Let me coddle you.”

You resigned yourself, but there was a sadness inside as Luke shared a goodbye before leaving you alone with your parents. You really wished you hadn’t been wrong in your decision.

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[mizunetzu]

my request is flaaaaaacidddddd peeeeenisssss

Flaaaaaaaciddddd peeeenisssss

——————

Iida x reader - Iida Tenya’s Imaginary Boyfriend (True Ending)

⚠️warnings - good ending HAHAGQ

Pronouns - male, he/him

Part one can be found here!

Part two can be found here!

——————

He woke up in recovery girls office.

He wasn’t sure how he got here. All he remembered was his head feeling a bit faint walking back to the dorms, then waking up here. Looking out the windows, vast colors of orange and yellow flooded in between the cracks of the blinds, making colorful stripes paint his bed with light. He presumed it was around sunset.

The door clicked open. Recovery girl, Aizawa, and detective Tsukauchi walked through the door.

“Do you know where you are right now, Iida?” Aizawa was frank, as usual.

“I believe I am in recovery girls office, though I have no clue how I got here.”

Tsukauchi cleared his throat. “You were hit with a villains quirk about 2 days ago. You’ve been asleep ever since. It caused you to go in a nightmare-ish dream state until we caught them.”

Iida retrieved his glasses from the bedside table. It was then he realized he was in his pajamas. Aizawa stepped forward. “What’s your full name?”

“Iida Tenya.”

“How old are you and what school do you go to?”

“15 years old and I attend UA high school.”

Aizawa hummed. Nothing seemed to be wrong with his memory. “Do you know what day it is?”

“March 17...no, 19? Forgive me, it’s somewhere between there.”

“Iida,” Aizawa looked confused. It made Iida feel sort of uneasy aswell. Like getting a problem wrong and having your teacher be disappointed in you. “That’s almost a full month away. It’s February 3rd today.”

February 3rd. If Iida recalled correctly, that was around the day that everyone seemed to forget that (Y/n) existed. He checked his wrists out of habit. (Y/n’s) watch were gone. He was about to ask where it was, when the detective clicked his tongue.

“Well-thats to be expected,” Tsukauchi held up a case file, most likely a report on the criminal who used their quirk on Iida. “Time passes differently in the quirk-induced coma Iida-san was in. Some people affected by them claim it’s been years when it’s only been a couple of days. Truly terrifying.”

Recovery girl tutted. “All of his vitals seem to be in check. He should be able to return to the dorms now. Just have him take it easy for a couple days in training.”

“Mm. Make sure you make up your missed work,” Aizawa turned back, as Tsukauchi exited the office and recovery girl sat in her desk. “And tell your classmates you’re alright. Your friends were freaking out when you wouldn’t wake up in the morning. They should be in the dorms by now.”

Iida nodded.

———

Walking back to the dorms, there was one thing Iida couldn’t get off his mind.

He’s been in a ‘quirk-induced coma’ for 2 days. The passage of time is different with their quirk as to real life. And he could’ve sworn it was late March instead of early February.

So when did he fall asleep? And what was his ‘dream’ about?

He, at first, thought it was the result of walking home with his friends after seeing that sketch artist Kaitekina, but that doesn’t happen until almost a full month later. So, most of the things Iida remembers doing and learning in class has not happened yet.

And, nightmare? He remembers falling asleep and seeing (Y/n) in his dreams, but that doesn’t fall under ‘nightmare’ territory. Actually, it was rather pleasant.

“Oi! Iida’s awake!” He heard Kirishima yell, as he walked through the door. Most everyone was in the common room, and turned their heads. Each one of them erupted into a smile, saying things like “are you ok?” Or “glad to see you awake, Iida-san!”

He, unintentionally, tuned them all out.

What was his ‘nightmare?’ What made his dreams about a boy who doesn’t exist so bad? Was he waking up in his dream just to go to bed in that dream to dream another dream? What-

“-and (L/n) was so worried bro! I mean-he looked ok like usual but I guess he doesn’t really go out of his room unless you force him t-“

“I’m sorry, who?” Iida’s disbelieving voice sharply cut off Kaminari’s ramblings. He didn’t hear that correctly. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

“...bro...” Looks of worry or confusion flooded the 1A students. Similar to when they looked at him like he was insane, asking for a non-existent student named (L/n) (Y/n).

Kaminari awkwardly chuckled. “(L/n)...? Your personal hype man? Dude who follows you around like a dog?”

“Kaminari-that was mean, he does not follow Iida around like a dog.”

“But he does!”

A playful argument rang out between Jirou and Kaminari. Everyone’s attention seemed to shift from Iida, to Jirou blasting her heartbeat into Kaminaris ears with her ear jacks.

“Iida-kun, are you okay..?” Midoryia brought Iida out of his trance. “Did you lose your memory or something while you were asleep?”

“No no I just-I probably misheard Kaminari-kun. Who was he talking about?” His voice was wavering. His desperation hidden behind the glare of his thick cut glasses and messy bed hair. He needed to comb his hair once he sorted things out.

“(L/n) (Y/n)-kun?” There it’s was again. “He sits next to you in class? You...oh! You two fought in the sports festival? And...yknow...the whole,” Midoryia stuck out his tongue making a mask with his hands and pretending to lick someone’s blood. “-thing?”

Everytime he asked who he fought in the sports festival, everyone including Midoryia would say “Hatsume-san, Ibara-san, and Todoroki-kun.” He never recalled fighting someone named “Ibara” from class 1B, having fought (Y/n) instead, but he grew to just accepting it.

And when he asked about the Stain incident, Todoroki and Midoryia would claim it was just them three fighting him. There was no one with (h/c) hair that helped Midoryia, him, and Todoroki out immensely. As far as Iida was concerned, (L/n) (Y/n) did not exist to the world.

So why was everyone talking like he was a real person?

“Iida, if you really don’t remember, you should go get that checked out by recovery girl...it’s pretty odd that you forgot about your own classma-“

The sudden startup of engines, followed by the whirring hiss of smoke trailing past him cut Midoryia off. Iida burned through the pants of his pajamas, but he didn’t care. He ran as fast as he could to the 4th floor of the boys side of the dorms.

His heart quickened with every step he took. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up, but the obvious look of desperation on Iida’s face seemed to lead his thoughts. He needed to see for himself.

Skidding to a halt infront of the supposedly empty dorm room, he once again halted when he reached for the doorknob. Everytime he’d check this room on impulse, he was always met with the empty, white walls and drawn curtains supplied by the school. He didn’t want to walk in and face white again.

And he didn’t.

Almost taking the door off the hinges, Iida practically shoved the door out of his way. A small gasp ripped its way through Iida’s throat.

A dimly lit room, one that was never kept clean, that had an oddly sweet smell coming from it. He saw the vaguely familiar (f/c) bedsheets, with the sea blue comforter thrown lazily on it, half slipping onto the ground. He saw the messily taped Ingenium posters, crooked and wonky, plastered on his studying table, which was almost never used for studying. When they studied together, it was usually on Iida’s bed or somewhere outside.

But finally, he saw the patio slider door opened, curtains fluttering in the mellow orange sunlight with someone standing outside. They were leaning on the balcony, with their arms stretching up, the reflection of their cheap red watch burning light into Iida’s eyes.

“(L/n)...kun...?” The name felt foreign on his lips. Even if he technically ‘saw him two days/one month ago’, it felt like years since he’s actually felt like he was in the same room as him. The boy, (Y/n), turned around.

Setting sunlight painted his face with warm colors, making the (h/c) shade of his hair burn brighter. The light also seemed to reflect off the (e/c) iris’ of (Y/n’s) face, making it look like it was glowing. It lit his face well enough to make him seem ethereal. Breathtaking. Real.

It was him. It was (Y/n).

“Morning, Tenya. How’s it feel to be asleep for two days?”

Iida didn’t answer. Instead, he walked tentatively towards the patio sliding entrance, his burnt pajama pants cinching his calves now that his adrenaline high was subsiding. He stopped a few inches way from (Y/n), reaching out and shakily touching his cheek.

Instead of fazing through him, or flat out fading, his hand made contact with warm, soft skin. (Y/n) hummed and nuzzled his cheek into his hand. Iida’s vision blurred involuntarily, despite him having his glasses on.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen?”

His voice’s vibration, and the warm breath that fanned his chest was enough proof that he was here. Enough proof he was dragged down back to earth, no longer just a distant memory no one remembered.

Iida’s throat closed up, and he felt his knees go weak. He was a blurred mass of (h/c) and (skin/c), with the hint of red that protruded from his arm, but Iida knew he was still there. He was there, with him, and would be going on until forever.

A tender, hoarse chuckle escaped Iida. He leaned his cheek onto (Y/n’s) forehead, not caring that his face and bed hair was still messy and reeked of sleep. He smiled.

“Nothing. Nothing at all, (Y/n)-kun.”

——————

Haha. That was fun. Anyways-

[nonstoplover]

happily ending catastrophies ~ Fred Weasley

summary: Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl's life.

pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle (female) reader

words: 5K

meaning of: (y/h/c) means 'your hair colour'

(kinda) warnings: (1) this plays after the war and Fred lives, because i refuse to accept anything else; (2) i'm not from the UK so excuse the possible mistakes i made about the underground; (3) also there are a couple time jumps, i didn't want to drag it for too long and had quite a few ideas i wanted to write

a/n: this was an idea born whilst i was studying for this year's most difficult exam at uni lol but i thought it was worth giving a shot so here it goes xx

my masterlist

(y/n) wakes up to the sweet scent of some kind of flower filling up her nose and lungs. Despite the panging in her head she cracks her eyes open to find the source, though as soon as she takes in the totally unfamiliar room around her, the flower immediately gets forgotten.

What the hell?

She frowns, pushing her upper body up on her elbows to get a better look around. She has never seen this room ever before. Or has she? Suddenly she's not so sure as a foggy memory appears in her mind. Her glance travels across the cardboard boxes beside the wall on the floor, piled high on top of each other, then a desk, a wardrobe, arriving to the bedside table that has a lamp and several strange things - looking like some foreign country's small candies in colourful wrapping - on the wooden surface.

Sitting up fully she tries to move her legs to place them on the floor, but finds that it's much harder than it usually is - than it should be. All her attention turn to her legs now and the weird feeling that surrounds her left leg she hasn't noticed before. Carefully she lifts the covers that wrapped her body in a warm embrace to see what's wrong with her leg. A gasp leaves her lungs right away as her eyes fall on the cast wrapped around it from her knees straight to her toes.

In that exact moment the door slowly opens and her eyes snap towards the entering figure - a flaming red haired young man - whilst her fingers scramble to get the blanket back on her lower body, hiding the lack of clothing she's wearing as she's in nothing else but her underwear.

"Ah, you're awake! How are you?" He asks when his eyes connect with hers and slightly widen.

And his voice brings back everything. Literally everything to her mind about how she got here, all the memories flashing by in front of her inner eyes.

- - - - - - - flashback - - - - - - -

Friday the 13th. The day of misfortune and disasters. (y/n) huffs as she makes her way down the street towards the underground station to go back to her apartment. Now she knows this fact from experience.

She woke up a bit late that morning and didn't have time to drink her usual morning coffee in the comfort of her home, so she had to wait until her first break at work to drink one. When she just finished brewing a cup for herself in the small kitchen at her work, the handle of her favourite mug she kept in there broke and the now handle-less mug full of the brown beverage fell to the ground and shattered to a thousand tiny pieces, and if it wasn't already bad enough, the coffee splashed on her white shirt, colouring it light brown and leaving a wet stain behind all across her chest.

After that she managed to get through the day quite normally, right until 3pm, when her boss called her in to his office.

"The company is facing a hard time," his voice still echoes inside her head, making her shiver in sadness and anger. "I'm sorry, (y/n), the performance you showed us in the past two years was truly great, but you gotta understand that I have to decrease the number of employees. And that unfortunately includes you. I'm sorry."

If the way she worked was actually 'truly great', then why do they fire her and not someone else?

Well, probably her boss told the exact same thing to everyone he kicked out today, she thinks, but it doesn't help at all - it doesn't get her her job back.

So half an hour ago she packed everything in a box and set off to go back home, mentally raging about the cursed day. She has never believed in any superstition like this, but today she's changed her mind. Maybe all these things are true.

And that's when the next string of catastrophies starts.

As she's moving along the pavement next to the tracks at the station, the heel of her shoe breaks and she stumbles, her box flying away from her grip, all the contents of it scattering all over the ground. (y/n) tries gaining her balance back, taking a couple steps back, but the pavement disappears from under her feet as she reaches the edge, completely unaware of it.

She falls back, down to the tracks, and an impossible pain shoots up from her left leg as she lands, the air totally knocked out from her lungs. As she tries catching her breath, her hands move to lay flat on the ground so she can push herself up, but the world around her seems like it's spinning and she feels too weak to move a single muscle in her body.

Everything decelerates into slow motion and she glances around to see what she could do when something bright catch her eyes. A shiny warm yellow circle in the distance, getting slightly bigger and bigger with every second. She observes it carefully, thinking about how pretty it looks as she wonders what it might be. It only takes a second or two for her mind to catch up and suddenly she's more than aware that a train comes towards her and she's not capable to do anything to stop the collision from happening.

Friday the 13th.

Out of nowhere she feels a presence next to her, and just as she turns her head that way to see what's going on and her eyes fall on locks of bright red hair and a freckled face, the man has already grabbed her arm and with a fierce pull hoisted her up to a standing position. It feels like her arm is ripped out from her body, for a moment even the unstoppable hurting from her leg fades out to give space for the one in her upper body and she gasps before everything goes black.

- - - - - - - end of flashback - - - - - - -

The following events go by as a dozen of blurry pictures (y/n) can't make out in her mind and she blinks a couple times to get back to the present, to reality. She focuses on the redhead again, the last person she clearly remembers seeing.

"Where am I?" Her voice comes out hoarse and quiet and she clears her throat, waiting for his answer, knowing how she behaves quite rude completely ignoring his question, but she just can't help it.

She hasn't a clue where they could be, she's never seen a place like this in her entire life. It's obvious it's not a hospital. And after what happened it's just as obvious that she needs hospital treatment.

"The Burrow," he replies with a small smile playing on his lips.

And though she thought his answer would help clear some of the fog inside her head, it only confuses her more. Fred bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from him seeing her cute frowning expression and waits for her to ask again, knowing it'll soon happen.

"The what?" The girl speaks up again, her voice now much clearer.

"My family home."

The confusion still stays on her face, and Fred truly can't blame her for it - who wouldn't be distraught after waking up in a stranger's home? Still, seeing the same expression he first ever saw on her face brings him back to the Tube station in London.

- - - - - - - Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

He's rushing down the stairs to catch the apparently soon arriving underground train, cursing his twin brother under his breath for winning the bet that resulted in the usage of any and every magical thing being forbidden for Fred for this whole week. Now he has to run errands adjusting to the timetables of muggle public transport and he's running out of time. Everything takes so much more time in the muggle world, and in the past few days he's grown to appreciate being born into the world of magic more than ever.

Arriving next to the tracks he catches sight of a dozen or so people there and relief fills his body. So the train hasn't left yet. He slows down to a walking pace and tries to catch his breath, and that's when he notices something weird about the people, something he has never seen in the past days when he used the Tube. They're all moving closer to each other, slowly making a tight circle, all of them looking in the same direction, as if something was on the tracks.

Curiosity rises in Fred and he makes his way to the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to tower over it and glance down. His eyes immediately fall on a young woman lying there, one of her legs twisted in an abnormal way. She's looking to the side, towards the tunnel from where the train should arrive any minute now. Her expression displays confusion and slight fear, but her breathtaking beauty is still obvious, and it makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes slowly turn to where she's looking and he can see the light that swiftly grows brighter and brighter inside the usually dark tunnel, but his mind can't comprehend what he sees as all his thoughts are still only about the gorgeous woman lying there.

"The train's coming!" Somebody in the crowd shouts and that's what wakes Fred from his daze. His head snaps back and forth from the tunnel to the girl a couple times, so fast it's a miracle his neck doesn't break.

His body moves before he can fully think about his actions and suddenly he's pushing people away to make a path for himself in the crowd and he jumps down to the tracks. He hears a couple gasps from behind him, even a couple voices trying to inform him again and again that the train is actually soon there, but he doesn't care. All he focuses on is the task in front of him.

Squatting down he grabs one of the woman's arms and drapes it around his shoulder, standing up again as fast as he can, pulling her with him a bit harsher than he intended. She lets out a gasp in obvious pain, but he knows there's no time to be more gentle. Both of his arms move around her, one around her shoulder blades and one around the backs of her thighs to lift her up bridal style as he knows one of her legs is broken and she can't stand on it. And he's thankful for his own speed and thoughtful actions as he feels her body go limp as she faints.

The head-splittingly loud sound of a horn fills the air just as he turns around, signalling that they were noticed by the people on the train. As he takes the first few steps back towards the pavement he glances up, seeing two or three men already there bending down with their arms stretching in his direction. Fred quickens his pace as much as he's able to and practically throws the woman in the waiting hands, helping them pull her up by pushing her body from under, the screeching of brakes, iron on iron being the only sound that can be heard.

He stays on the tracks until he's completely sure that she's safe, than he grabs the edge of the pavement and swiftly pushes himself up, crawling on the cold surface until his legs are lying there as well. He feels a breeze moving against his back as the train arrives to the station, but he doesn't care about it, neither the cheering that erupts from the people around him, celebrating his heroic act, not even the burning feeling in his muscles from being strained. He just pushes himself up and stumbles to the woman, falling back down on his knees to be able to get a better look of her.

From up close he can see how she's even younger than he has thought, probably close to his age. She's obviously falling in and out of unconsciousness every other second. The word 'ambulance' enters his ears from the people around them, and he finds himself with a new task ahead of him. Somehow he has to get the girl away from this place and back to the shop so he can take her to the Burrow. Muggle hospital treatment isn't enough now, the wizarding world offered much better methods of healing. His mother will know what to do.

- - - - - - - end of Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

"And why am I here?" (y/n) continues asking.

"You broke your leg."

"Yeah, I figured, but shouldn't I be in a hospital then?" She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow.

"This is better than a muggle hospital," the young man shrugs.

"Mu... a what?"

"Ah, sorry. Slipped out," he let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

Here comes the moment he dreaded. When he has to explain the existence of magic and the wizarding world to a completely clueless person and trying to do that without making a complete fool out of himself in front of the angel-like girl when she won't believe him - which he's sure she'll do.

"Wait, who are you? I don't even know your name," she speaks up again. "And how could I truly thank you for saving my life if I don't know even that?"

"There's no need to thank me," Fred protests.

"Of course there is!" (y/n) squeals as loudly as her weakened state allows. "Not everyone would jump down to the tracks when there's a train coming to save a complete stranger."

"Yeah, well, true," he mumbles, thinking back to how nobody did anything for her, anger filling his veins. Then he clears his throat, shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts and to focus on the girl again. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."

"Thank you for all you did, Fred. I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)," she sticks her hand out and a smile makes it's way to Fred face, matching the one on hers as he steps closer to shake her hand.

- - - - - - - 2 months later - - - - - - -

"I'm absolutely fine, Freddie, stop acting like I'm made of porcelain. I'm totally able to walk down the stairs on my own two feet," (y/n)'s giggling voice fills the air on the second floor of the Burrow when the redhead gently pulled her arm around his neck as he's done so many times in the past weeks.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Fred puts his hands up in surrender, backing away as laughter erupts from his throat and he turns his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks from the nickname she used.

Unfortunately he only gets completely face to face with his smirking twin brother who winks his way before pushing past him, a knowing chuckle sounding from him as he rushes downstairs, past (y/n), who follows him right away, only a bit slower, with Fred's careful, watching eyes trained on her back.

"See? I told you," the girl glances back at him over her shoulder after arriving downstairs, not stopping on her way to the dining table, only to stumble in a shoe someone left in the way. Fred immediately reaches out to grab her elbow and stop her from falling. From the strength of his attentive pull on her arm, instead of flying to the ground she crashes into his chest.

"I don't know, I'm not so sure," he teases, looking down with a smirk playing on his lips.

(y/n) moves her head up to connect her eyes with his, and Fred glances around her face, taking in the pink colour of her skin on her cheeks caused by the embarrassment of almost falling, then as his eyes reach the sight of her lips, he suddenly becomes almost too aware of how close the two of them actually are, and the breath hitches in his throat.

"Come on, kids, dinner's gonna get cold!" Molly's voice breaks the moment they shared and (y/n) regains balance, then gently pushing the boy away she turns around and limps the rest of the way to the dining table.

All of the Weasleys are already sitting there, watching the two of them appear in sight, and (y/n) has to bite back a giggle, still not used to the seemingly infinite number of redheads, all smiling wide and sweet at her. George pulls the chair she has always sat on ever since she was able to get downstairs out for her, offering a helping hand knowing that it's harder to sit down with only one properly working leg. Fred reaches out for her other arm just as she makes contact with George's hand, and the two of them don't let go until she's stopped moving.

She glances back and forth between the two boys sitting on either side of her, rolling her eyes at how overly protective both of them behave, when she's already told them hundreds of times that she's able to get by on her own.

The meal is delicious and the company is entertaining, just like it has always been since (y/n) stepped foot into the Burrow. Conversation flows without a hitch, only the occasional laughter breaking it for a second or two, and the (y/h/c) girl finds it hard to think about the inevitable - the moment that's coming fast, the moment when she has to leave these people and go back to her normal life. The Weasleys has become like a second family for her, and she fears that if she walks out that door, she'll never see them again. They're living a different life, in a completely different world. Their paths most likely will never cross again. She tries to brush off the sad thoughts, knowing that she'll have all the time to mope and grieve when she's back in her (ordinary and plain) flat on her own.

As she's helping Molly clean the dishes after the family finishes dinner, (y/n) pauses for a moment to glance at the redhaired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here and for taking such good care of me."

"Oh, sweetie, you're more than welcome. It's our pleasure to have you here."

"That's true," Ginny chimes in with a joyful grin on her face as she places another dirty plate in front of her mother. "Your presence brightened up our boring lives."

"Boring?" (y/n) lets a loud laugh escape her throat. "Your lives are nothing even close to boring. Everything around here is breathtaking and spectacular."

"Is it though?"

"Try living my life for a week or so, and you'll know what boring really means," she shakes her head, the different memories and thoughts swiftly filling her mind as she turns around to lean the small of her back against the counter top, her eyes instantly connecting with Fred's, who's still sitting at the table, shamelessly watching her with searching eyes.

"I still can't believe there's a whole world of wizards and witches that we have absolutely no clue about. It makes me wonder how many things are there that's hidden from us. And it makes me scared how clueless we all are in the muggle world."

(y/n)'s only able to stand the intensity of his gaze for a couple seconds before she has to turn her head away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and heat them up. She swallows, only hoping that it stays unnoticed by the boy, but when she finally dares to glance back for the shortest of moments, she catches sight of a small smirk playing on his lips and she knows that nothing has gone unnoticed by him. Clearing her throat she tries to find something else to say, speaking the first words that come to her mind.

The newly learned word still rolls uncertainly from her tongue, not sure if she says it correctly, but when her restlessly moving eyes accidentally catch Fred's again, she sees a new kind of glint sparkling in his eyes, and it's enough to let her know that she used it correctly.

"It's not your fault," Ginny places a hand probably destined to be reassuring on the older girl's shoulder. "We're just too good at hiding it."

The two of them share a laugh, and unbeknownst to (y/n), it turns the shape of Fred's eyes into something that very much resembles a heart. His own heart flutters at the sound, the temperature of the room suddenly feeling too hot for him to bear, and he abruptly kicks his chair back, standing up and swiftly moving out of the house to get some fresh air and somehow try to cool the fire that's burning inside of his chest.

(y/n)'s eyes follow him, an eyebrow raised in question, deep in her thoughts right until the door closes shut again behind the boy. The sudden noise brings her back to the present and she shakes her head to get rid of the things running around in her head.

"Anyway, I gotta go upstairs and pack. I really have to go back home now," she sighs, pushing her body away from the counter.

"I'll come help you," Ginny immediately offers, hurrying after her.

Two and a half hours and a heart wrenching goodbye later (y/n) and Fred come to a stop outside her apartment's door, both of them feeling a previously never felt sadness fill their hearts.

All (y/n) can think of is flashing images of the flaming red haired boy. The way he sat at the edge of the bed she was lying in, telling her everything about the wizarding world. The way he lifted her up so effortlessly as if she weighed nothing to bring her downstairs when she was unable to walk in the first weeks. The way he walked her around the house and the garden, showing her everything and explaining things to her, adjusting to her extremely slow pace without a word. The way he showed her multiple of the products he and his twin brother sell in their shop, sometimes only speaking of their effects, other times even showing her, not caring with the fact it caused something inconvenient for himself as long as he made her laugh - which she did so many times and so hard that it made her sides hurt. The clothes he let her have when winter set in and her own became too thin to keep her warm, and the way the material smelled like him. The lingering touches of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her cheeks when he thought she was fast asleep - when in fact she was completely awake, fighting back the urge to press her face further into his touch.

In the meantime all Fred can think of is flashing images of the gorgeous muggle girl. The genuine curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever he told her about the world he's living in, the endless amount of questions she's asked him about anything and everything, the pure interest she showed from the first time he told her about the existence of magic. The way she bonded with each and every member of the Weasley family, finding a common thing with all of them and eventually making them all grow fond of her. The way she told him all about the muggle world and her own life, sharing all the details with him without hesitation - trusting him right away. The way his name rolled from her tongue - even more when she called him Freddie. The bubbling, loud laughter that erupted from her throat when he told her about the shop and all the pranks George and him did back in Hogwarts or when he showed her the products they now sell in the shop, the laugh that always made his heart skip a beat, the laugh he couldn't help but adore along with the fact that she seemingly didn't care the slightest bit how loud she is or how funny her laughter might sound. The way she looked in his clothes, always taking his breath away, making him wish nothing more in the rest of his life than to see that very sight every day as long as he lived - and possibly even after that.

"Well, thanks for getting me home," (y/n) points at the door behind her back as she looks up into his mesmerizing eyes. "And for jumping down in front of a train for me. And for letting me into your family home. And for taking care of me."

"It was the least I could do," Fred smiles sheepishly, his mind spinning, trying to come up with something to say that would keep the girl in his life.

"Bye, Freddie," she hesitates for a moment, then decides it doesn't matter anymore and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his left cheek.

Fred's eyes flutter closed, heart bursting with the sudden feeling of love from both her lips touching his skin and the oh so loved nickname. He freezes, unable to think anything else than eight very important letters.

The girl moves back, fiddling with her keys to find the correct one, pushing it in the slot and turning it, gently shoving the door until it's wide open. She steps in, her eyes taking in the furniture and decoration she once loved but now finds unbelievably plain and mundane. A sigh escapes her lungs and she turns around to close the door - and wave once more the boy.

Fred still stands in the exact same spot, obviously not moving even the slightest bit since she backed away from him. (y/n) raises her hand to wiggle goodbye with her fingers at him whilst moving to close the door with the other hand, already feeling the tears blur her vision as she tries to take in the sight of him as best as she can to be able to remember him forever.

"Wait!" Fred exclaims, placing a palm flat against the wooden material to stop it before it fully closes.

This time (y/n)'s the one to freeze, hand pausing high in the air and she even holds back the breath in her lungs as she waits for him to continue.

"Can we meet again?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. She always thought that he'd never want to see her again. That he'd be happy to finally get rid of her and be able to continue his life as before. He wants to meet with her again?

"I... y-yes, of course," she stutters, heart stammering inside her ribcage so wild and loud, she's almost sure he can hear it.

The extremely wide smile that splits his face in two hearing her answer makes it impossible for her not to mirror it, her own lips curving on their own accord. Fred, feeling the previous nervous shyness evaporate from his body and the always present confidence fill his vein up again, takes a step closer to her, then another until he's right beside the door, gently pushing it wider open again. (y/n)'s hand on the door handle inside goes limp, and she lets it fall down to hang loose beside her body as Fred steps inside.

When he's so close that she can feel the breath coming from his nose reach the skin of her face, his lips open again to let out a whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

The already abnormal rhythm her heart beats in gets even more uneven, and her head moves in a nod as she breathes out the word 'yes'. Fred's eyes sparkle up even more, and his hands slowly start moving up, one reaching out to gently caress her cheek whilst the other wraps around the small of her back. Slowly, extremely slowly he leans down, pausing for a second just before their lips could touch, and as a wave of impatience rushes through the girl, she raises her head and presses her lips against his.

Fred lets out a muffled chuckle at her eagerness before tilting his head and snaking his arm further around her torso to pull her flush against his own body, his hand that's resting on her cheeks moving slightly further back until his fingers completely disappear in her (y/h/c) locks, his lips moving passionately against hers.

She completely melts into his touch, feeling like she's floating in the air, as if she's only dreaming. But when they both run out of oxygen and pull away to fill their lungs again, their foreheads pressing against each other in search of support and their eyes connecting without problem, looking deep into his beautiful brown orbs (y/n) grows sure right away that it's truly reality, not just a dream.

"I love you," he breathes in-between his quiet pants, but it's enough to make (y/n) totally dizzy as a love-struck grin spreads across her face.

And in that very moment they both know that their story is just starting.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

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[belit0]

Commission for @GlitterBomba!

Part 2 of this!! I don't feel it's as angsty as it should be, but for some reason, my creativity wanted it that way? It's been a long time since I've last written, and this was definitely a challenge... First part was produced way too long ago, so it was also challenging to connect with what I felt when I wrote it! But here it is, and I hope you like it, GlitterBomba. Thanks for trusting me!

My Ko-fi page~ Buy me a coffee if anyone wants part 3 ❤（っ＾▿＾）

It took you days to awaken from your deep sleep, days which became weeks, and weeks transformed into months. There was no hope for your life among the healers, but the tenacity and insistence of those elders who saved you forced them to continue providing methods and energy, herbs, talismans to keep you breathing.

Impossible to explain how that mortal blow did not steal your last breath, not when the perpetrator was the greatest tyrant in the current world, the monster everyone learned to fear and flee from. In the small place where you are kept hidden, rumor has it the treacherous one repented as soon as his hand affected your body, causing you not to succumb immediately.

It wasn’t until after he vanished, shrouded in lightning and hatred, when one of Ashura’s subordinates came upon the scene of your sad fate. A pool of blood acting as a bed over a pale body, devoid of any warmth and life. Everyone was quick to write you off for dead after such an event, and only when one of the village elders took your pulse did he find your incredible attempt to resist despite all odds.

Keeping you along with the new leader and his people would not be a good idea. Not when you barely escaped with your life from the beast. In case he came back and besieged his younger brother, it would be better if he didn’t find you there. That man proved to have an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Tempting fate once is more than enough.

That led a group of elderly men, those who defended your slight pulse when everyone thought you were dead, to ask Ashura’s permission before disappearing and taking you to a safe place, making use of some of the village healers to ensure your health. 8 men of different ages vanish with you, swearing on their lives to do everything possible for you to open your eyes again.

Winters turned into warm seasons, and autumn leaves were waning. Two whole years quickly go by before your consciousness returns. The world is different. You understand through your guardians that life passed with you as a ghostly presence, a bedridden legend they fought all this time to preserve.

No one mentions what happened to you, though. No one names him.

To everyone’s surprise, you don’t really ask about the village; you don’t ask about your birthplace and your home. You don’t ask... about him.

Your healers discover you memory was damaged after exhaustive examinations beyond your comprehension. Theories why this happened are various in your little home; some argue the loss of blood hurt your brain, others believe the trauma of that betrayal forced you to block it all out, and there are those who think maybe you ignored the past on purpose.

Still, there is an unspoken rule forbidding the mention of what happened, of the village, of those two brothers. After experiencing hell, what would be the benefit of forcibly bringing you back to that horrible past? In this remote place, you have the chance to start from scratch, and your rescuers believe it is the least you deserve.

Little by little, you gradually learn everything all over again. Your own name, your age, information about those around you. You ask with animosity about everything you don’t understand, and the only thing there is reluctance to answer is when you want to know about who you were before... this.

Healers get the problem off their shoulders, rushing you to ask such questions to the older people. They shoo you out of their humble hut with nervousness and red faces, panic in their eyes.

Seniors sigh as they stare into nothingness, sadness and nostalgia, painting their countenances with something you cannot grasp. Some even drop a couple of tears to the rhythm of a depressing whisper, “oh poor child...”

The scene makes you feel so guilty you end up consoling them, assuring it’ s not a big deal and you don’t need to be told. That your life in this small place with them is all you need to be happy, past or no past.

Regardless, it is the scar monstrously painting your stomach which makes you uneasy. While tracing the edges of that sensitive skin with your fingertips, you feel its reason for existence is on the tip of your tongue. As if reminders of what happened to you are lingering there, buried in your head, but creeping closer to your memory every time you look at your navel.

What happened? What terrible thing could have left such an enormous mark on your skin, but not in your head?

It’s frustrating.

Eventually, curiosity to explore beyond your own narrow world peaks. It’s quite natural, considering four older men and four medicine buffs rarely make for an interesting group of company. Older men drink tea most of the day, when they’re not napping in the sun, of course. The rest read rigorously and debate among themselves about their newly gained knowledge.

Getting permission is a complicated task. They are terribly afraid of your departure, scared of your fate, frightened of what dangers you might encounter.

But how to keep you there forever, when you have seen the vivid movement the closest town has?

Perhaps it was your rescuers’ mistake for allowing you to go exploring within the boundaries they considered safe, yet you inevitably discovered such a place, so close and yet so far away, so full of people and... life. Persons of all ages walking from one side to the other, food you never saw before displayed in various stalls, children playing with each other, unaware of the surrounding universe. Everything looks completely natural, as if folks are used to this kind of lifestyle since long ago, and you wonder if you ever lived in a similar environment.

Just what hides in your past?

After insistence and great pleas against the overprotection imparted on you, they understand it is simply hopeless to make you give up your idea unless they expose all those shocking events, unless they explain from what kind of danger it is necessary for you to hide, from whom it is imperative you escape.

No one knew anymore about that demon after his disappearance the same day, and it is uncertain where he is. Whether he is hiding or far from your current home, it is unknown to anyone, and it would invoke bad luck if your guardians expected you to meet him face to face once you get away from them.

Preparation of weeks and many directions, you finally depart from your unnoticed hideout in the world, leaving behind anxious seniors and worried healers.

It was agreed you could explore for a couple of months, but your eventual return is a binding closure on the deal you reluctantly struck. Each new destination brings with it new discoveries, tastes, experiences. You always find charitable souls willing to help when you are short of food, water or shelter, people who offer to give directions when you get disoriented, people who share stories with you on lonely, nostalgic nights.

With each step you take in the outside world, less you understand what your guardians are afraid of. Everyone is well meaning, and no one seeks to take advantage of your innocence. It is incomprehensible why this was denied to you for so long, and every time you think of your precious little home, an emptiness grows in your heart.

Weeks slowly pass, and having experienced so much in such a short time, you find the need to recount it to those you consider your family. As initially agreed, it may be time to return, to prove the world is not as terrible as they feared.

A few miles from homeland, just as you feel you are walking the grounds of your family again, you stop at a stream to get a drink of water, determined not to slow down until you reach your destination. It is too much of a thrill to witness those 8 insane people bickering and arguing. You absentmindedly smile as you rinse your face.

In your distraction, you cannot hear footsteps approaching at your back. It’s not like you would have detected them if you were paying attention either, for the person stalking you is deliberately careful, calculating.

Turning, your face affects directly into a solid mass of muscle, sending you tumbling down the riverbank again. Any woman would have assumed the worst when connecting glances with a man who invades her personal space unannounced, but from your mouth comes a concerned “Are you okay?”

The man, who is watching you as if a ghost were sitting next to you in the water and you were unaware of it, bleeds. Profusely, indeed. Both of his hands are deeply cut, distinct wounds on his palms dripping thickly to the ground.

There is no answer to your question, and the man’s countenance is difficult to decipher. His eyes glow a red which fades too quickly to analyze, his complexion is completely pale and unhealthy, his hair points in all directions, forming a long brown tangle which you deduce has not been combed for some time. For moments, it is as if there are words trying to pierce his lips, but the stupor of the individual continues.

“Your hands... we really should take care of them, shouldn’t we? Aiya, let this humble one help you heal.”

There is no reaction as you stand up and take him by the arm, guiding him to a large rock away from the water and helping him to sit up. His gaze is still completely fixed on your face, searching for something you’ re oblivious to. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, agitated breaths accompanied by sounds resembling syllables.

“Look at this mess alone... sir, you should be cautious walking along the bed of these waters. They are treacherous, hm?”

Ripping off one of your sleeves, previously dampened when you fell into the water, you use the cloth to clean his wounds. There’s not much you can do here, out in the open and in these conditions, but judging by the man’s appearance, he was probably recently attacked. When you mention your little home a few miles away, the man doesn’t refuse or accept.  

Still, when you head back to the road, you find the fellow following you from behind, head down and staring at the ground. In his hands he tightly clenches the cloth of your sleeve, and blood stains the fabric completely at this point. You talk about the healers in your place, and how they can help him get better, but no matter how much you try, the man never responds. You ponder whether, perhaps, the situation he experienced before he ran into you may have been intense, and you attribute his perturbation to that.

After walking without pause all afternoon, your silent companion always keeping your own pace, your destination appears in front of you. From afar, you can see the elders sitting on the engawa of their cottage, sharing tea and quietly waiting for dusk. All is silent, and your announcement of arrival is the only thing disturbing the atmosphere.

Your arms wave vigorously to catch the attention of those you regard as family, a splendorous smile planted on your face, walking at an increased speed to catch up with them. An extended curtsey bow is given before them, and only after raising your head you dare to give them all a group hug, false formality forgotten as much as your guest.

The man slowly approaches this scene and analyzes the faces of those present as the embrace takes place. Had you not been turning your back on him, you may have noticed the change in his countenance, coldness creeping over his features from one moment to the next. None of the elders noticed his noiseless presence, not even having sensed it to begin with, and it is not until one of them finishes smiling and opens his eyes to come face to face with their worst fear.

Suddenly the hug is interrupted when this old man lets out a shriek, trying to back away and losing his balance. You follow his line of sight while turning, and find that innocent-looking stranger again, disoriented. There are screams all around you. Seniors are horrified and collapse on the floor next to each other, completely surrendered to the gaze of the demon fixed on them.

“Don’t behave like that! It would appear it wasn’t you guys who taught me manners... I’m so sorry, sir, they’re not used to dealing with travelers, let alone wounded ones... if you’d be so kind as to follow me?”

Throwing a withering glance at the group of elders, you direct your guest to the house the healers occupy. True, your little family is not used to encountering men in the state this very one is in, but you never expected such an exaggeration. A bit of unkempt hair and blood, pale skin, and they’re all screaming on the floor?

The reaction of the healers is not much different, and after reprimanding them for behaving so shamefully, you get them to treat the man’s hands. Leaving them alone so as not to disturb the setting, you make your way to the third and final cottage, your own. Since the other houses occupy four people each, it would be problematic to ask them to accommodate your own guest, and you take your time assembling an extra bed, improvising with blankets.

Nighttime is delightfully quiet, and as the door opens without warning, you greet the individual with a smile. Elders have taken the trouble to bring food for both you and him, announcing neither they nor the healers were in the mood to share dinner together.

The man’s hands are bandaged, his palms completely covered, and his thumbs trapped in the wrappings. He looks uncomfortable, and it shows in his inability to do anything on his own. His chopsticks are impossible to hold as he kneels on the floor and tries to eat, and after many urgings from you, he nods silently and almost imperceptibly, allowing you to help him.

“You see... you’re here, eating my food, under my roof, safe and comfortable... and I still don’t know your name...”

Teasing is imminent in your voice, hoping to relax him, if only a little. As he takes another bite and chews, his eyes are fixed on the table, like trying to hide from your presence.

After analyzing the end of your day alongside this presence, you assessed this man must be terribly shy, perhaps someone properly introverted. Still, observing his features, you get a strange familiarity, a feeling making you let your guard down and relax in front of him. A secret knocking at the door of your mind, demanding to burst in front of you but being invisible at the same time.

“... Uchiha...”

Without expecting an answer anymore, after several minutes, his voice surprises you. It sounds like that of someone who rarely uses it, raspy and rusty, as if it had been forgotten long ago, and not even the man himself remembers its ringing.

“Um?”

“Lord Uchiha...”

His name, you realize. Formal, a title.

Lord Uchiha continues in the same position, just like his words had been an illusion. It is impossible to keep giving him food, his attitude surly and refusing, and you wonder if he plans to spend the entire night in the same position if you allow him to.

Demandingly, you get him up and offer him your bed for the night.

He tries to take the spot you set up on the floor, and displays physical strength far beyond what you thought he had. There are firm muscles hiding under his stained white tunic, and they flex slightly every time he tries to change the course you both walk. He is probably holding back, you realize, for the way his forearm tenses. The stubbornness of this individual… as if he were someone unaccustomed to taking orders, leading rather than listening. Either way, he ends up tucked inside your room, buried under sheets and quilts so he doesn’t get cold.

You find your own resting place after closing the door and leaving your guest. There is not much room inside your small home, and yet, the greatest comforts are offered to those who really need them.

That night, a fearsome nightmare assaults your dreams. A pitch-black claw pierces your stomach from both sides, long nails tearing through skin and tissue like cloth. Blood pools at your feet, solidifying and making escape impossible. You feel your lips move in a choked scream, and a single word escapes your throat along with another red waterfall.

“... Indra...”

[moral-turpitudes]

To the Moon:

A/N: Totes cried while writing this but it’s fine.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Descriptions of Character Death, Drinking, Pregnancy, Cancer, Fluff, Grief, etc.

Word Count: 4,225 

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader x Anna Shelby (OC?/Daughter)

Request: “Hi this is my first request and it’s an angsty Tommy x Reader where the reader is an old flame and they didn’t work out but Thomas still loves the reader anyway, and she sends him a letter out of the blue. Apparently the reader got pregnant and had a kid but she’s really sick now and doesn’t want her kid in an orphanage. It could end in fluff but doesn’t have to.”

Requested by: @wierdestmoppet​

A/N: Get ready for some sad shit. I saw the request and this is what my mind jumped to lol. I wrote this to be set like around Season 1-ish btw.

Summary: Life and death have a way of revealing the truth within us, and it can cause things to happen at the most unexpected times. This is especially true for Thomas Shelby as he realizes not even he can stop death.

Part 1 | Part 2

“Dear Thomas,

How are you? It’s been a long while and I hope you and your family are doing okay. I know this may be out of the blue, but you know I’ve never been much for planning things. You also know that I prefer getting straight to the point, so disregard any smudged writing in advance. I’m trying to keep the tears at bay while writing this, but I figured I’d burn any bridges while I still can.

I know we parted in anger but I’d love to know if you’d forgive me for how I acted. When I left during the months after you had gotten back from France, every fiber in my being wanted to stay there with you, but I couldn’t. I had no one besides you and your family and it made me feel worse, like a burden. I was so scared you’d send me away if I told you then...so I made that decision for you and I know it destroyed you.

I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for that, and now of all times I’m sitting here wishing I could be back there in that dirt-covered town, walking by the cut with you just like old times...but I can’t, not in this life anyway.

It saddens me greatly to know I’ll never see your face again, but for the sake of time I’ll be blunt. A couple weeks after I left, call it karma if you will, I fell more ill and went to the doctor. When I left, my suspicions were confirmed. I was pregnant.

I fought the urge to call you though and I regret that to this day, but I’m writing this now to hopefully make up for it.

I had not been with anyone else the whole time you were deployed. But if you can think back, you’ll remember our time at the Garrison and how you’d brought me home. That night stuck with me for nine months, Thomas. I had a beautiful baby girl who I named Anna. And the best part is that she has your eyes.

With all that said, I know this is a lot to take in, but I have one dying wish. You see, I’ve been diagnosed with cancer and the doctors said I have only days left to live. I’m...I’m trying so hard not to cry because I don’t want to wake the poor girl, but I can’t go on much longer and she deserves a good life...One that I can’t give her. I’d love for her to not have to go to the orphanage, as it would break my heart. So I’m asking you to do probably one of the hardest things you’ve had to do in some time, my love. I’m asking if you’d be willing to take in our Anna?

I’ve always wanted her to meet her father, and I wanted to wait until she got older to do so...but it seems life had a way of throwing off those plans as you can see.

I just wanted to let you know in case a lovely little one year old shows up at the shop soon. I’ve sent my friend here in London to take her to you after I pass. I know you may not love me anymore Tom, but I hope that whatever love is still in your heart, you can give that to our daughter. And that you can also find a place in your heart for forgiveness, I know I have.

I’m not expecting anything else, but I truly wish you the best in life, both for you and the family. I’ll think of Anna and you when I sleep tonight. That’s about as close to being in heaven as I can think of.

With all my love,

Y/N Y/L/N”

Thomas set down the letter, hands shaking as he slid his finger over the dried ink that was smudged in various spots by her tears.

He sat there with his head in his hands, tears silently falling from his eyes as the memories came flooding back.

He had just gotten the business in line, and had a good thing going with his family. Even securing a legal betting license, but just as he’d known all his life, he couldn’t get his hopes up when it came to love. Every woman he’d ever loved seemed to have an expiration date, and this one tore him to the core.

As he sat there, the rain pattered on the windows of his office at the shop. The sound only fueling the rage inside him as he came to terms with the letter.

He had thought she’d moved because she found someone new or thought she’d gone off to find a job somewhere perhaps. But he didn’t expect this. After all, he still loved her. He was never good at showing it but he truly did love her and now she was being ripped from him without even getting to say goodbye.

He took a shot from his glass at his desk and threw it in frustration, shards exploding on the ground like tiny specs of glitter.

As he watched the shards shimmer in the dim light, he remembered the fancy envelope. Frantically picking it up and seeing a small picture hanging out of the corner that he must’ve missed before.

It was of Y/N holding Anna. Y/N had a weakened look to her as she sat on the steps of her apartment in a light green dress. It was her favorite color after all, and he knew that.

She had the brightest smile despite her frail state as well and it instantly caused him to smile too. When his eyes landed on his daughter it only grew and he felt his throat tighten as he cleared his throat, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

She indeed had his striking blue eyes though, and the beautiful color of her mother’s hair. With tears threatening to fall, he noticed she had her smile too, thanking whatever gods above that she didn’t get his toothy grin.

As he admired the picture, he remembered seeing the date and a phone number scribbled on the letter, her handwriting noticeably declining compared to when she used to write him long ago during the war.

Without a second thought, he called her number hoping she’d answer. His heart stopping for a moment as he heard static on the other end before it picked up, a faint voice saying “Y/L/N Residence.” in response.

“H-Hello, I’m sorry it’s late but this is Thomas Shelby. Is Y/N there?” He asked, his voice trembling as he wiped tears from his eyes.

“I never thought you’d call...” She said.

“You sound...different.” He said.

Y/N laughed, and he swore he could feel his heart pound at the faint sound of it.

“Death does that to ya.” She said, making light of the situation.

“Y/N...I-I got your letter. I know we don’t have much time...but I love you. I do. I-I love you so fucking much okay?” He said frantically, sitting down at his desk.

“I’m not dead yet.” She lightly chuckled.

“I know...just wanted to let you know I do love you, and that I forgive you. For everything.” He said quietly.

“I thought you’d moved on Tom...But I love to you too. I’m so sorry I’ve put you through this...” she said, breathing heavily.

“Don’t you worry sweetheart. You’ve done nothing wrong. I-uhm...I haven’t moved on. I could never move on from you, Y/N...” He said, her name on his tongue like a spark. He hadn’t said her name so often in ages.

“Did you get the picture?” She asked.

“Yes. You’re beautiful. Anna is too. Beautiful just like her mother.” He said, holding the picture in his hand.

“I was so excited when she opened her eyes. I’m so glad she has yours.” She said, her voice fading a bit as she reminisced.

“And I’m glad she has your smile my love. Can’t have her running around with a smile like mine aye?” He joked.

“Oh stop.” She chuckled.

He laughed lightly as she continued, her breathing audible over the phone.

“I’m happy the letter got to you when it did. I was trying to hold out for you both.” She said, her voice thickening as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I’m happy it did too. You’re the strongest woman I know. You know that right?” He said, wiping his own tears from his eyes as he heard her crying.

“I want our Anna to grow up strong too. Have you considered my offer?” She asked.

Thomas hesitated, his hands were shaking more than they had when first reading the letter.

“Yes. I-I don’t have a nursery yet, but I’ll be able to get things sorted in no time, alright love?” He said.

Y/N sighed with relief. “Good...you don’t know how happy that makes me. I’m...I’m holding her little hand right now. She’s got a firm grip just like her daddy.” She said, sniffling.

“Good. She can rough house with Finn when she’s older.” He said.

“Just...protect her Tommy. She’s so sweet. I love her so much...” She said, her voice weakening.

“I love you, to the moon and back you hear me? Is the nurse with you?” He asked, noticing her voice changing.

“Y-yes. My friend is too. Told her to bring Anna as soon as I go. I-I’m so scared Tom...” She said, her voice cracking as she cried.

“And I love you to the moon and back too sweetheart. I just wish I could have you here with me.” She continued.

“I know you’re scared Y/N. Just hold Anna’s little hand and listen to my voice...okay? Everything will be alright. I-I promise.” He said, his own voice cracking as more tears ran down his face.

“I’ll always protect our daughter. And I’ll tell her how much you meant to me and how much you loved her. I’ll always love you. Always, to the moon and back aye?” He said.

Her breath shallowed as she answered, the last of her strength fading as she spoke.

“I love you both. To the moon...and back.” She said, taking a final breath before her eyes closed and her body went slack, including the finger that her daughter was clutching onto while lying beside her in bed.

The line was silent as Tommy listened. His heart nearly broke when he heard Anna’s cries, and her friend and the nurse sniffling as they helped around the room.

“M-Mr. Shelby? This is the nurse. I know this is hard...but would you like her ashes or would you prefer her to have a traditional burial? She never got the chance to specify.”

He wiped his tears on his sleeve and looked out the window as the rain fell, the moon shining brightly as he gazed up.

“Traditional burial. She needs to be where she’s loved. My family will be in touch as soon as we can.” He said.

“Alright. We recommend doing it soon, tomorrow perhaps. Her friend just left with Anna and will be by your shop in the morning.” She said.

“Uhm...yeah tomorrow is fine. Bring Y/N to the fields and we’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be here at the shop when Anna gets here.” He said, his mind feeling like it was about to explode.

“Alright. I will see you tomorrow Mr. Shelby.” She said.

“Alright.” He whispered before hanging up the phone.

He frantically strode over to his whiskey stash, downing a good portion of it before he ran to the shops bathroom. The mixture of suddenly ingesting all that alcohol and his frazzled nerves taking its toll.

When he composed himself, he freshened up as best he could and splashed cold water over his face, trying to wash the memories and the rush of the alcohol away.

As he made his way back to his office, he thought to call everyone. Even if they were sleeping, this was the one time he truly needed everyone in the family.

“Polly? It’s me. I’m going to need uhm...a crib...and a funeral lined up in the fields. Can you bring the crib here to the shop? I-I guess I’ll need anything baby related.” He stammered.

“Holy mother...slow down please! What are you talking about?!” She asked tiredly through the phone.

“It’s Y/N...yes...her....she left me because she was pregnant and she had the baby and she’s mine. Her name is Anna and she’ll be here in the morning. Y/N she uhm...she died. I just talked to her as she passed alright? She ended up having fucking cancer. She wrote to me and...and it was her dying wish that I take care of Anna for her. I need everyone here. This is the one thing I can’t do alone, Poll.” He said frantically.

Polly stayed silent as she processed what was said, he could hear her sniffling as she spoke.

“Christ have mercy....I’ll call everyone in. You try to get some sleep even if you’re lying on the shop floors. You can’t take care of your daughter drunk like that. I can hear it in your voice.” She said before hanging up.

Polly quickly got ready, waking up little Finn and sadly explaining to him what happened. Together they gathered an old crib from when Ada stayed over with Karl a couple nights, and she found some baby food and diapers.

Next on her list was to call Ada as she had more things at the ready, and she and the rest of the blinders were just as shocked as the news rolled in.

2 hours had passed and Tommy had forced himself to lie down with his coat draped over him on his office floor. The half empty bottle of whiskey smashed to pieces from when he’d gotten off the phone with Polly.

His eyes were blood shot and moving rapidly under his closed eyelids, dreams of coming to save Y/N from the inevitable somehow threatening his mind as he watched her disappear like a ghost. His eyes flew open though as he heard the shop doors close. His tragic slumber interrupted further by numerous heavy boots on the floor.

He sat up slowly, trying to smooth out his hair and putting his coat on as the draft from the cool night air crept in through the creaky floors and window sills.

He sat there on the floor, not having the strength to get up as Polly and the rest of his blinder brothers came into the dark room.

“Tommy...Polly told us what’s happened. I’m so sorry...” Ada said, holding a large bag of everything baby related that she could find. Little Finn held a small crib and Polly had a blanket in her arms as well as a small bag of food.

“Everything was fine a couple hours ago, I was just ‘bout to go home then I saw the letter on my desk...” He said, wishing selfishly that he could turn back time.

“Look mate...we have your back. Just tell us what ya need done and we’ll do it. It’s a family meeting after all.” John said, nervously biting the toothpick in his mouth.

“I...I spoke with the nurse. She said they recommend having the funeral tomorrow. We’re having it in the field like we usually do. It’s what she would’ve wanted probably. I couldn’t let them burn her and stuff her in some urn. She deserves better. God damn it...” He said putting his head in his hands. He’d always been the one in control. He’d always had a solid plan, a solid mode of attack, but this was something he had no control over. Just as much as life had control over death. It was all out of his hands.

“I’ll go get Johnny Dogs and the Lee’s help with all that, you stay here Tom.” John said, kissing Esme goodbye as he went out into the night.

“Oi, brother do you want me to go with him? I promise I won’t do anything this time.” Arthur said, crouching down by his brother and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t care, as long as Anna gets here safely and as long as Y/N can have a decent place to be buried in. That’s all I’m on about now. Fuck the rivalries, for one day.” He said. It wasn’t like him to stop condoning a lot of violence, but perhaps this made him have a change of heart.

He glanced at the photo she sent him, his eyes glossing over as he held it in his shaking hands.

“She has my eyes.” He said, his own filling with tears that not many of his family had seen in so long.

“She’s beautiful.” Polly said, sitting by him on the floor. Little Finn helped set the crib down and Esme and Ada helped clean up the mess Tommy had made.

“She is...” he said.

Around 4 hours later, John and some of the Lee’s returned and told them they’d gotten everything set up and Tommy had met with the nurse. She was dressed in a black dress and a black coat, and holding a silver necklace with a light green stone in it. It was Y/N’s that Tommy had given her before he went off to war.

“She wanted you to keep this, to give to Anna...she thought maybe as an 18th birthday gift would be nice...” She said, wiping a tear from her eye.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” He said, putting the necklace in his jacket, clasping the button on the small pocket so it was secure.

As the night blurred into the morning, Polly and Esme napped in the chairs as Tommy rested his head at his desk. Finn and the rest all finding places to doze off to in various corners of the shop.

As much as Thomas hated everyone sleeping uncomfortably, he knew it was good they were here. He needed the support whether his pride liked it or not.

It was around 6 am when the nurse arrived again, letting him know Y/N’s funeral things were all set up. And it wasn’t long after that a small car pulled up. A woman with blonde hair and a black dress getting out quickly as she reached for the little girl.

Her faint cries were heard as Thomas watched from the doorway, alert and ready to do what he had to do for the coming days, and eventually years.

“Hello Mr. Shelby. My name is Jess. I was a good friend of Y/N’s. Here’s your daughter. I hope she’ll be a comfort to you.” She said quickly as she handed her to him.

He nervously cradled her into his arm as she squirmed in defiance at first. The new person holding her making her only want her mother more.

“Hey...hey...shhh. It’s alright love. It’s okay. Daddy’s here. It’s okay.” He cooed, carefully swaying a bit as he held her. As she adjusted to her new surroundings, she gradually stopped crying, her bright blue eyes opening and landing on her fathers face. Tears were coating her cheeks as she looked up at him in silence, curiously as she took in the man holding her.

“It’s okay. I promise.” He said, gently wiping her tears as he carried her inside.

Polly and the girls gasped quietly so as not to startle her too much. But she cried nonetheless, the new people overwhelming her. Tommy cooed again and gave her his finger to hold, helping her out of her crying fit.

“You’re a natural Tommy. Must’ve been all the babysitting when we were little.” Ada said, as she watched her niece slowly stop crying.

“I can only hope so.” He said, looking down at his little girl. John and Arthur and the others came near as quietly as they could, watching as she had a death grip on Tommy’s finger.

“She’s a strong little bugger. Finn you’ll have to show her the ropes ya know.” Arthur said, Finn looked on curiously at his new niece and nodded.

“Not till she’s older. We have to protect her alright, Y/N will strike me down if we don’t.” Tommy said, smiling a bit as he wondered where her soul was now.

“How about we let you be? We’ve set everything up in your office, so it should suffice until later today when you can take her home. The funeral is at noon. So everyone get home and get ready and meet at the field.” Polly said, before patting Thomas’ shoulder. He was in shock at the nights events, but his daughter luckily helped him from spiraling too far down.

The hours leading up to the funeral were spent trying to feed and change her and having Polly come back early to show him the ropes. Anna was dressed in a small black dress and wrapped in the soft blanket Polly had brought, her cries echoing throughout the shop as everyone gathered their things.

“She’s gonna be a little hell-raiser, I already know.” Polly said.

“Good. Maybe she can take over this place someday aye?” Tommy said, placing his cap on as Polly nestled her into the car with her.

“If she wants to that is.” Polly said, closing the door and looking at the little bundle. Tommy started the car and drove off towards the fields, the bonfire sending smoke into the air upon their arrival.

Tommy stopped the car and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he sat there.

“Are you alright? We can take a minute if you need it Tom.” Polly asked, putting her hand in his shoulder.

He wiped a stray tear from his eye and ran a hand over his face before looking back at his little girl. Her eyes wandering over him as he sat there.

“No. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine, we just have to say goodbye that’s all.” He said, getting out of the car and gently picking up Anna.

She protested at first, her eyes welling up with tears as she looked around, but they stopped once she saw her fathers face. He was grinning slightly at her and stroking her hair, trying to make sure she was alright.

“She’s okay. She’s probably bloody overwhelmed, poor thing. It’ll be like that for a while, but you can do this Thomas.” Polly said, walking towards the field.

“We can do this right Anna? We have to say bye to mummy alright? It’ll be okay my love.” He said, her cries stopping as he walked with her in his arms and towards the wagon and the bonfire.

The smoke invaded everyone’s lungs as the flames grew around the wagon. Everyone who knew her back when they dated coming together to say some nice words or to offer up small prayers.

Tommy couldn’t say anything, fearing he’d break down, but he stood there holding their daughter, throwing a rose towards the flames and silently thinking of her. Hoping she’d watch over them while she was up there.

As the ceremony ended, he wiped a stray tear away and carried the little girl around the remains of the fire, trying to think of a plan for their new life.

Anna mumbled as he sat with her on a nearby log, giving her rose petals to play with from one of the leftover bouquets.

“Those were your mums favorite.” He said, hearing her mumbling in baby babble.

“M-mama.” She said lightly, looking out at the fire. Thomas felt his throat closing as she said it, wishing nothing more than to bring her back.

“Yes love...Mama is gone but dads got ya now love. She loved you so much...” He said, tear running down his cheek as he kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him as he held her on his lap, still gripping his hand like a security blanket and smiling like Y/N.

Over the next couple months they both grew used to each other’s company. She was babbling more and not crying as much, but she could always sense something was missing. Thomas was home more now than he’d ever been, always keeping an eye on her and taking her to the shop when he’d go to work. Everyone loved her though, as they all took turns watching the little girl.

“She’s doing so well. I know Y/N would be proud, Tommy.” Ada said, patting his shoulder as he stood at the window, looking at the night sky.

“She would aye? I’m seeing more of Y/N in her each day. Only a matter of time before she takes Finn out though.” Tommy said smirking.

“I can’t wait to see that.” Ada said, slowly walking away to do her paperwork.

Tommy walked in his office to see Finn playing with her, giving her random toys as she sat up in a chair, and watching her throw them to the side as soon as she saw her father.

She smiled her little smile and threw her hands up towards him as he walked to her, crouching down and scooping her up as she giggled.

In the silence between them he’d often look up after the long day and see the moon, hoping Y/N would be looking back at them from up there, and he’d whisper to himself that they were alright, hoping in some way she’d know they were.

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[tyongxnct]

𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 - 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝑇𝑎𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑔

© tyongxnct on all platforms

Song: save your tears - the weeknd

summary: After Taeyong broke your heart, you meet again and now he wants you back. This is based on the weeknd’s song ‘save your tears’

genre: angst // song fic

warnings: kind of not a “happy-ending”

word count: 4.1k

A/N: my second story I’m posting. Can’t believe it. I hope you guys’ll like it :))  

I saw you dancing in a crowded room You look so happy when I'm not with you But then you saw me, caught you by surprise A single teardrop falling from your eye

After months of isolating himself, Taeyong's friends couldn't take it anymore. No matter how often they tried to get him out of his little bubble, he just couldn't leave his home, your home. Well, it was your home until you left. His heart ached at the thought, but still, after so much time he was waiting for you to come back home to him. Taeyong never left his apartment, he started working at his homeoffice and he rarely left for grocery shopping, most of the time he just ordered food. He was scared to miss you opening the door and come back to him. It would never happen, but he just hoped. 

But today was different, it was his best friends birthday after all, he promised him to spend time outside of his apartment and that was the best present he could give. "You have no idea how happy I am right now.", Jaehyun, the birthday boy, hugged his best friend. They were at a club, Taeyong just sipped on his drink and was deep in thoughts. What If you came home? What If you are waiting for him?

"Taeyong, it's been so long! How's it going?", Yuta, a mutual friend, asked him. The last time they saw each other was on Taeyong's birthday. Instead of spending his birthday with the love of his life, he was out the whole day, saying he was busy with work, even though he was with his friends clubbing. If he could, he'd turn back time just to spend his birthday with you for the last time. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yeah, I'm good how about you?", he asked back. Taeyong just wanted to be alone in his bed, looking through the pictures you took when you were still dating. "The same. How's (Y/n) , haven't seen her either for a while now."

Taeyong's grip on his glass hardened, he didn't hear your name since forever. 

Jaehyun saw his friend tensing up and pulled him away. "Taeyong I need you to go to the bar and get me anything. It's my birthday so please tread me.", Taeyong only nodded and left Yuta and Jaehyun. 

He shouldn't have come. He should've stayed at home. 

"What can I get you?", the bakeeper asked.  "Just an old fashioned."

Taeyong leaned against the counter, cursing to himself for coming here tonight. His eyes were looking for Jaehyun and the others, but he didn't see them at their table. He looked through the club and then he stopped at the crowded dance floor. His heart clenched and all the pain he had felt in all those months hit him again. There you were, smiling and dancing around. You looked so happy and he couldn't remember the last time you looked like that. Your crying face in pain was burned in his brain. You smiled widely but as you saw Taeyong looking at you, you stopped moving and your smile faded. The pain was back in your eyes, ripping Taeyong's part apart. You felt like your world fell apart. Again. A tear falling down your cheek as you still looked at him.

I don't know why I run away I'll make you cry when I run away

It started a couple months before you broke up, he always left you saying he had to work all day and that everything was fine, even though you confronted him, asking why he was acting so weird, he just shrugged you off. 

"Taeyong, please talk to me.", it was past midnight. Most of the time you went to bed before he came back home, leaving you alone in the cold bed. But tonight you stayed up because you missed your boyfriend.

"I am really tired. Let's just go to bed, please.", he took off his work clothes and changed to his nightwear. "No, Taeyong. We didn't talk for like weeks. I miss you."

"We are talking. We just talked this morning. I don't know what your problem is.", he got under the blankets and you were still sitting on the edge of your bed. "I just told you in the morning that I washed your pants. I mean real talking about your day at work or mine, about I don't know, how you've been and-", he interrupted you with a yawn. 

"My day at work was exhausting and you non stop talking is also exhausting so could you please do me the favor and stop it. I want to sleep."

Your jaw dropped, he just interrupted you and told you to shut up? 

He turned his back to you and you were furious. You got up, took your pillow and decided to sleep in the living room.

You could've asked me why I broke your heart You could've told me that you fell apart But you walked past me like I wasn't there And just pretended like you didn't care

Taeyong wanted to talk to you so bad. He missed your voice, he'd do anything just to talk to you. It was ironic, months ago he wanted you to stop talking to him. His palms were sweaty, he didn't know what to do. Should he go to you? Talk to you? Hold you and never let go? Taeyong hoped that you’d approached him, but you didn't. 

You left the dancefloor after you told your friend that you had to use the restroom and walked out of the dancefloor, past Taeyong, not even giving him a second look. His eyes never left you, your back facing him, you breathed in and out, You tried to calm your aching heart down, suddenly feeling suffocated. 

You rushed out of the club, holding onto your chest, trying to breathe and not to cry. You already cried more than enogh for him.

I don't know why I run away I'll make you cry when I run away

A couple days later, Taeyong didn't come home. He didn't answer your calls nor did he answer your texts. 

( 00:24 ) Taeyong please call me I am worried.. Just tell me that you are safe.

( 01:27 ) Please pick up.

( 02:07) It's 2 am already..

( 03:33 ) I won't go to bed until you come back home. 

( 04:12) Taeyong tell me that you are alright, please

And he had more texts like those, but he didn't answer. 

Taeyong sighed and turned his phone off. "Aren't you going to answer?", Jaehyun asked him. "I'll call her later.", Taeyong sipped on his drink. "You can talk to me, you know that right? I know that something's bothering you.", Jaehyun patted his friend's back. 

"Everything's fine. Let's just have fun tonight."

The next day, Taeyong came home and saw you sleeping on the couch, without a blanket or a pillow, just with your phone in your hand. You opened your eyes slowly and as soon as you saw him, you jumped into Taeyong's arms.

"I was so worried.. W-Why didn't you call me..", you cried into his chest. He didn't even hug you back. 

"My phone was out of battery.", he lied. You knew that he lied, he left you on read. "Where were you?"

"Just with Jaehyun.", he slightly pushed you back. "I'm exhausted, I'm going to sleep." and again, he left you standing in the middle of their living room with tears falling down. "C-Can I sleep with you? I stayed up until 5 I think.."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody asked you for that."

That caught you off guard. "What? I was worried sick, wouldn't you do the same?"

"No, I wouldn't. You can do whatever the fuck you want. I'm not going to be like you, because it is suffocating.", he told you. "Taeyong what are you talking about? Are you angry at me because I was worried that my boyfriend didn't answer any of my calls or texts and didn't come home for the whole night?", he was really too much for you right now. 

"I'm so sick of this.", he sighed and said to himself but you heared it. "You are sick of me worrying for you? Alright, Taeyong. Do whatever you want, I won't bother you anymore."

And you really stopped. You were dying inside, worry eating you live. It's been three weeks since you tied to stop bothering him, but he didn't give you a choice. He'd sometimes stay at Jaehyun's for one or two days. Not even mentioning it to you. You cried yourself to sleep and thought about what you did wrong. Why he acted like this and if he didn't love you anymore.

Take me back 'cause I wanna stay Save your tears for another Save your tears for another day Save your tears for another day

Taeyong rushed out of the club, going after you. "(Y/n)! Wait!", he ran after you but you started walking away faster. "Please- just wait a second.", you cursed at him for having long legs. He caught you by your wrist and stopped you from running away. "Please, (Y/n)."

"What do you want from me?", you didn't look up, too scared to look at him.

He let go of your wrist "I-I just..", no words were coming out of his mouth. Taeyong didn't even know what he could tell you. How he could make you come back. You looked thinner and you had bangs now, you looked as beautiful as always.

"Is that all?", you was about to turn around and walk away. "No.. No I'm sorry. I just,.. You changed your hair.."

You tried to hold back your tears and it worked. You didn't want to spend more tears for him. "I'm not going to talk about my hair with you now or about anything else. Can I go now?"

 "I'm sorry, I just missed you so much.", he couldn't believe that he was talking to you after months. "I don't believe you. I'm leaving.", you really didn't believe him. Who would act like he did and suddenly miss you. Lies. 

"I swear, I missed you so much."

You sighed, "Look, Taeyong. It's been months now and it was a very painful journey for me. I know it must've been easy for you, but I don't want to talk to you.", you looked up now, right into his eyes.

"No! No.. I mean, I know that I hurt you and that you suffered more than I did- but I can't live without you."

You laughed at him "Oh Taeyong, you didn't hurt me. You destroyed me, you ripped my heart apart and broke it. I don't believe your lies anymore. So just stop."

So, I made you think that I would always stay I said some things that I should never say Yeah, I broke your heart like someone did to mine And now you won't love me for a second time

After your last fight, you were more distant to Taeyong. All the promises he made, were broken. He promised you, that he’d always be with you and that he’d love you until his last breathe. Taeyong told you that you are his better half, the love of his life- but that was once. After 3 years of dating, he had enough of showing his love. 

“I can’t take this anymore, Taeyong! Did you stop loving me?! Just tell me what the fuck is going on because I don’t get it!”, you screamed at him. 

“Here we go again.”, Taeyong sighed as you started confronting him again.

“Stop ignoring my questions! Answer me for god’s sake!”

“I can’t do this anymore, (Y/n).”, he said and looked at you now for the first time since forever. 

“W-what does that mean? Are you- are you breaking up?”, you were so scared of the sentence.

“Yes, yes I am.”

“I-I don’t understand- why? You told me you’d always be with me! You told me you loved me! Why? Why did you stop loving me? Please tell me why, Taeyong.”, you cried, heavy tears falling down your cheeks.

“I am sick of you! Sick of being with you! You are so- you are just so fucking exhausting! It feels like I’m dating my mother or something, god damn! It’s always Taeyong do this, Taeyong do that! Taeyong, here Taeyong there! I am a fucking adult, (Y/n)! I can deal with my shit on my own! I don’t need a girlfriend who’s like a fucking assistant or some shit, do you get it now?! In those last months, I didn’t come home because you were here, I didn’t want to see you or be with you! Even sex was just- I didn’t even want to touch you!”, Taeyong screamed and screamed and didn’t even saw the way you looked. How hurt you were and how much it tore you apart to hear him say this to you.

“You know.. sometimes I wish, after Sooyoung broke up with me.. I wish I’d never asked you out on that day. I was heartbroken, I couldn’t think straight. Everything was a mistake..”

You were breathing heavily, you heart clenched at his words. You never thought that he’d say such things to you. 

He broke your heart and you knew it was over.

“Yes. You are right. Everything was a mistake. Falling in love with you was a mistake.”, with that, you went to your shared bedroom and closed the door. While you put your clothes into your suitcase, you were sobbing and it was hard to breathe or to see with your teary eyes. 

Taeyong wasn’t your first love, but he was your true love. You never thought that you’d end up like this, it broke your heart.

Taeyong was in the living room, slowly realizing how he just exploded and told you all of this. He knows that he’s an asshole but that was it. This was how your relationship ended.

I don't know why I run away, oh, girl Said I'll make you cry when I run away

3 years ago

After Taeyong’s heart got broken by his ex-girlfriend, Sooyoung, it took some time until he was ready to go out again. They were dating for 1 year and one day she decided to break up. Sooyoung told him, that she didn’t feel the spark anymore and that she had enough of their relationship.

Taeyong loved her and thought that she felt the same way, but he was wrong. After 3 weeks of isolating himself, he decided that it was time to go out with his friends again. He felt happiness as he hung out with his friends  and he didn’t even think of Sooyoung for a second. 

He went to the bar and ordered a drink, but then he looked to his right and saw you sitting and drinking alone. You looked beautiful, your hair was done perfectly and your outfit was stunning.

Your phone rang and you answered it with a sigh. 

“No he didn’t show up. It’s been two hours- I told you that this was a bad idea. A blind date is stupid.. I’m drinking alone- no I don’t care- I’m a big girl. Don’t worry, I’ll text you when I get home.”, you put your phone away and drank the last drop of your drink.

“Another one for the lady, whatever she’s drinking.”, Taeyong pointed at you and ordered you a drink. 

You looked so beautiful and your date didn’t show up. How could anyone leave you alone?

You looked at him now and saw him smiling at you. “I’m sorry I didn’t want to eavesdrop but he’s an idiot for not showing up.”

“Thank you.”, you weren’t used to hot boys ordering you a drink, so you didn’t really know what to say.

“I can keep you company- of course only if you want to. I don’t want your friend to worry because you’re alone in a bar, you know.”

“Yeah sure, are you alone here, too?”, you asked him as he sat down next to you. “Well, my friends are here but they are too drunk to notice that I’m here, don’t worry.”, he smiled at you and you could just die right then and there. He looked angelic.

You two talked and laughed all night long, you felt so alive with him and he felt the same way. Everything about you was just- amazing.

And that was how you and Taeyong met- after having so much fun that night you exchanged numbers and after texting for 2 weeks, he asked you out on a date and you were head over heels for Lee Taeyong. 

One date became four and next thing you knew, you were dating and he made you feel so special and you wanted to spent your life with him, which he promised you, you would. He made promises in those 3 years you dated but in the end, he broke all of them.

Girl, take me back 'cause I wanna stay Save your tears for another I realize that I'm much too late And you deserve someone better Save your tears for another day  Save your tears for another day 

“Just please- listen to me, just give me 5 minutes, I’m begging you..”, he was desperate.

“What is there to say, Taeyong? I thought you told me how much you hated me last time we talked.”, you crossed your arms infront of you.

“No no no- don’t say that. I don’t hate you, never have, never will, I could never hate you. (Y/n), you are the love of my life- everything I said that night, nothing was true. I love you and I was so stressed, I didn’t know why I told you all of the stupid thing I said, because nothing made sense that night. I was so blinded by the anger I felt for myself, I hated myself back then and I couldn’t let it out on me, so it just.. I.. I was -am- so stupid I saw you and exploded like that..”, he was crying and he talked like his life was depenting on it- which it was. You are his life and he needed you.

“Taeyong, what do you want me to say? “It’s alright Taeyong. Sometimes people tell their loved ones that everything was a mistake, let’s get back together”? Do you want to hear that? I’m sorry but it doesn’t work that way.”

“I just need you to give me a second chance. I regret every word I let out of my mouth that night, I regret letting you go and I regret telling you all of this now.. I should’ve told you sooner, but I am so ashamed of myself. I couldn’t face my friends or my family- I can’t even look at the mirror. Please tell me i’m not to late. Please tell me you’ll give me a second chance and I swear to god, I’ll never make you cry again.”

“Taeyong you're making this so hard for me. The wound is still so fresh and it just hurts. Let’s say I said yes. We get back together. How is it going to work? How am I going to look at you and not think “he doesn’t want me- I’m not Sooyoung”? Tell me how am I going to tell you that I love you even though you don’t feel the same way. How am I going to survive all the pain? Sometimes love isn’t enough. I can’t do this again only to end up hurt again.”, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry again. Not today.

While not a single tear was falling down your cheeks, Taeyong was crying on another level. It broke your heart to see him like this. But you can’t forget that one night. 

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry.. I love you.. I love you so much it hurts so much being without you I am so sorry for everything that I’ve done to you.. Y-You’re right.. I don’t deserve you.. You. You deserve someone who’ll treat you like how you deserve.”, he cupped his face with his hands and sobbed. 

“I wish we could start all over again,”, he said and now he looked at you. “But I know now, that I’m too late.”

“I’m sorry..”, you looked down, it hurt you to hurt him but there was no other way. 

“No.. You did nothing wrong. It’s my fault- I am sorry for everything- especially that you cried so much. I made you cry so often and I’m never going to forgive myself. I want you to know, that I will always love you. Forever, no matter what.”

“I will love you, too.”, you looked into his eyes, seeing how broken he is opened your wound again a little.

Sometimes, just because you are in love, it doesn’t mean that it is healthy to be in a relationship. If your heart is broken, it has to heal and I promise you, it will. 

I don't know why I run away I'll make you cry when I run away

2 months ago - Taeyong

Taeyong was crying again. He looked through the pictures you took while you were dating, you didn’t take them with you when you left. At least two times a day, he looks through it. 

“How could you do that, Lee Taeyong? How could you?”, now he looked at the mirror, his vision blurry. 

“What kind of asshole are you?”, he asked himself. “You never deserved her.”

The night you left, he didn’t try to stop you. He wanted to, but he just couldn’t move or talk. Maybe, just maybe, you would’ve stayed. If he only said something. That was one of the 100 things he regretted. 

He regretted not telling you how much he loved you.

He regretted not texting you back when you were worried sick.

He regretted ignoring you.

Taeyong regretted so many things and now he was devastated, broken and just miserable. 

He took his phone and looked throught he last texts you sent him. How worried you were and how you told him that you loved him. He closed his eyes and remembered your face, your beautiful face but the look on your face changed. Now you looked like the last night he saw you. Broken.

Taeyong feels so lonely in his apartment and he remembers how you told him that you missed him and how lonely you felt. He hated himself for leaving you alone all the time. He should’ve stayed with you. He should’ve hugged and kissed you- he can’t even remember the last time he hold you in his arms or the last time he told you that he loved you.

He was selfish. The last months of your relationship he never thought of you and your feelings. Taeyong only thought about his own heart, ignoring yours. 

Taeyong realized that he only needed you in his life because you were his better half. You were his light in life and his reason to breathe. He was the one who broke up, he was the one who told you all the hurtful things and he was the one who just destroyed everything.

You were always there for him. You went through thick and thin and your love for each other was so strong. You were like two puzzle pieces who fit perfectly.

He ran away from his feelings, he was scared and he didn’t even know why because everything about you was just right.

Save your tears for another day, ooh, girl  I said save your tears for another day 

2 months ago - You

It’s been two months since Taeyong broke up with you. 

Even though you were a mess, you tried your best to erase the pain in your heart. You spent time with your family and friends, most of the time you were with someone. Your mind sometimes played games with you. Sometimes you thought you saw him standing on the street but you looked away and when you looked back, it was someone else.

You wanted to go back to him, jump in his arms and never let go, but he didn’t want you.

You kept telling yourself, that everything was getting better and that you were feeling good. Most of the days it was like that but there were times, you cried yourself to sleep and just wanted to leave the country.

The love of your life broke your heart so much, that you realized that everything you did was for him. You loved him so much that you forgot to love yourself.

And that was your priority now.

You needed to learn to love yourself first.

Save your tears for another day 

Save your tears for another day 

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art.   The ingredients are as follows: 

Fresh strawberries

Sponge cake

Sugar

Heavy cream

Vanilla extract

You slice the freshly washed strawberries into halves as the stand mixer whips the two cups of heavy cream and quarter cup of sugar into medium peaks. Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled sponge cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the whipped cream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries with cream on top.    Afterwards, you place the other sponge cake on top and repeat the process.   You finish the shortcake with strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag.   “Very well done! Everyone give a round of applause for Y/N’s shortcake demonstration.”   The teacher claps and the students around the counter follow suit. “Now it’s time for the real test.”   She begins slicing the cake into pieces, but you’re not nervous whatsoever. You know you did a great job and your strawberry shortcake is worthy of salivating over. And as expected, while your classmates take careful bites and allow the flavour to linger on their tongue, there’s nothing but praise.   “Wow, the sponge cake is so soft and moist.”   “The cream is so smooth.”   “It’s so fluffy.”   “It’s melting in my mouth.”   Even the teacher is nodding as she eats. But of course—   “Isn’t it too sweet?”   Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a soured expression like he bit into a fucking lemon. His fork is cleaned but he puts the utensil down with a noisy clank, not wanting another bite.    A muscle in your cheek twitches.   “Didn’t you say that last time?”   “Yeah.” He shrugs. “But you didn’t follow my advice. Obviously.”   “Maybe you just have sensitive teeth, Jonhson.”   “I don’t,” Jungkook deadpans, not appreciating how you pretend that you don’t know his name.   “I don’t see anyone else complaining.”   “Because they’re too nice to. If you can’t take criticism, then there’s nothing I can do, Y/N.”   There are eyes flickering around. This happens often enough that no one’s particularly surprised, but there’s still bated breath held amongst your classmates.    You open your mouth to retort. But the teacher eats with a thoughtful look, and then nods. “You’re right, Jungkook. You could lessen the sugar just a tad, Y/N. The strawberries are quite sweet this time around. Just goes to show that ingredients might always change, everyone!”   “Okay.” You force a smile. “I’ll make a note of it.”   “Alright class, now that we saw the demonstration, off you go! Watch that whipping cream! It shouldn’t be soft or hard peaks!”   Everyone turns to leave, but your glare connects with Jeon’s until he turns around all the way.    No matter what you make — Jeon Jungkook always complains that it’s too sweet.    He’s a fucking ass.   “What was up with that?” There are audible murmurs behind you. “I thought they were going to fight.”   “In the kitchen? No. Maybe outside — but you know how it is.”   “They still hate each other over the September incident?”   “Well Jeon almost got Y/N expelled….”   You turn around and once they realize they’ve been caught gossiping, they look away with big eyes and they quicken their hands. “So, uh, pass me the cream!”   “Y-Yeah.”   The teacher brings your attention back as she finishes marking the rubric. “Thanks for doing that demonstration for the whole class, Y/N. Job well done as usual. Just lessen the sweetness and you’re good to go.”   You’re given ninety five percent. Full marks lost because of that asshat.    You hope he can feel your glare on his backside.   Eventually class ends and with your station all cleaned, hands washed, and apron put aside, you leave.    Outside of the room, is the most handsome man on the planet waiting for you. The person who you love wholeheartedly. The person you’re most excited to see. Your person.   He’s dressed in a white turtleneck sweater that you got him last year for his birthday, black jeans, and that baby blue trench that’s always soft to the touch. His dark hair is brushed and he’s leaning against the wall casually. But the glimmer in his sheepish eyes betrays the nonchalant exterior he tries to put on.   And the corner of his plump lip pulls into a tender smile.   “Hey—oof!”   Laughter bubbles out of Seokjin’s mouth and his arms wrap around your frame after you quite literally leaped onto him. You barely manage to pull away from the man, having the strongest urge to stick to him forever.   “I missed you.”   You pout and he grins. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”   You lean in to kiss your boyfriend silly. He holds you by your waist and you greet his plump, soft lips that makes you melt in a chaste peck. After a moment, you break away and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Should we go?”   “Yeah.” Your steps sync together. “You won’t believe what happened to me today.”   “What happened? Tell me.”   The pair of you walk down the corridor together as the rest of the class continues to spill out. There are girls who caught sight of the heartwarming interaction and they hold their books to their chest as they sigh wistfully.    “God, I’m so jealous. I want to be in love too. When am I going to get a boyfriend?”   “At this rate, never.”   “Hey! Rude!”   “I’m kidding!” She giggles. “You just won’t get someone like Seokjin.”   “Let’s be real, no one is gonna get someone like Seokjin — he’s just...perfect.”   “They’re such a good couple, aren’t they? They’re gonna have such pretty…” Their voices fade, but Jungkook exits and hears their commentary. He turns to steal a glance at your backside down the hall.   Jungkook scoffs audibly.   “What?” Taehyung catches up to his best friend and swings an arm over his shoulder. The same-height brunette follows his line of sight and hums. “Jealous you’re not in a relationship?”   “As if. It’s just pathetic, is all.” Jungkook looks away and they make their own way to the dining hall.   “You really handed it to Y/N today.” Taehyung grins mischievously. “Like damn. I didn’t think her cake was half-bad. But you’re not scared it’s gonna come bite you in the ass, Kook? Y/N’s gonna hammer you down when it’s your turn for demonstration.”   “So what? Like she knows what she’s even doing.”   “Are you sure about that? She seems pretty decent at what she does to me.”   “Decent isn’t good enough,” he says blankly. “She thinks she’s the shit but she came here to follow her boyfriend.”   Taehyung whistles. “You still mad over September?”   “She just irks me. Always has.”   “Right, didn’t you guys go to high school together? You, Jin and her…”   “We never talked. Whatever, it’s not worth talking about and wasting our time. Hey, what’s on the menu for lunch?”   “You tell me. Jimin never texts us what’s new today. Dude just eats and then goes.”   “What class does he even have right now?”   “Bakery safety and sanitation.”   Jungkook grins, remembering just how nightmarish that class was. “Rip.”   The two of them turn the corner, moving the opposite way from you and Seokjin, and the hallway empties out. 

Anxiousness boils at the pit of your stomach. Today’s the day you’ve been waiting for ever since you found out your application was accepted into the institution and you were successfully enrolled. Whatever results appear, it might dictate where you’re headed in the near and far future. The experience that you gain in these two years will pave the path to your career after all.   “It’s today?” Moonbyul puts down her spoon. “Isn’t the paid internship in May? It’s only November.”   “The posting went up for us in November too,” Hani pipes up past a mouthful of eggs. “Remember?”   “Did it? It was so long ago, I forgot.”   “It was only last year.” Sandeul rolls his eyes. “You haven’t gotten that old.”   “I sure feel like it.”   “Well if anything, you sure look like it.”   “Umm, excuse me?”   “Okay, okay, guys,” Your boyfriend interrupts with a laugh. “You’re freaking out Y/N even more.”   They mutter apologies, but you smile. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you ask, “Where did you guys end up going?” After all, they’re a year ahead of you and they’ve been through the entire process. Any advice is helpful advice at this point.   “Sandeul and I got hired by a hotel,” Hani says, “The Marriott. It was a pretty sweet gig, kind of tough though. Out of the entire class, I think five of us went there in total, so we were pretty lucky that we knew each other. It was long hours, but I learned a lot.”   Sandeul scoffs. “Can’t say I did.”   “When do you ever learn?” Moonbyul bites back.   “My internship was at a private club,” Ken recalls, interjecting as the two of them argue again. “But all I baked was bread all day. It was awful.”   “Oh god.” You look to Seokjin. “What if I have to bake bread all day? I hate yeast.”   Jin laughs and he lifts his thumb to affectionately swipe at the corner of your mouth, getting the spaghetti sauce off your skin where you missed. “You’ll be fine. Promise. You’ll probably get hired at a catering company like I did. Or maybe a pastry shop.”   “God, I hope so.”   “Which did you apply to?” Hani asks, playing with her noodles.   “Just a bunch of them. Restaurants, catering companies, shops. I applied to I think ten.”   “Oh, you should be fine then.”   “But I heard sometimes they put you in ones you didn’t apply for.”   “That rarely happens. Don’t worry about it.” She bats the air with her hand, easing your worries a little more.   Your boyfriend smiles warmly. “See? Told you so.”   You nod and check the time. It’s five minutes to noon. And with that realization, you get up. “We should go.”   “Don’t they email you?” Sandeul asks, pulling himself away from his argument with Moonbyul and ignoring whatever half-hearted and playful insult she throws his way.   “Yeah, but the physical posting gets put up faster.” You’re jittery, hopping on both feet and Jin chuckles before he gets up too, taking your food tray and his to dump into the trash.   They wish you all the luck you need and you’re off with Seokjin by your side.   You’re excited and afraid, not exactly sure what to expect. You just hope you get your internship by the same catering company as the one Seokjin had. They liked him enough that they’ve ensured him a position after he graduates. If they hire you too and you do well enough, they’ll hire you back and you’ll get to work with him. It would be absolutely perfect.   You can already imagine it. A small apartment in the city. Working together. Coming home together. There’s not a better plan out there.   The hallway is crowded with lots of people pushing past to look at the posting. There are loud conversations, eager claps and cheers, to disappointed sighs and whines.    “Wait here, okay?” You turn to Jin, not wanting him to be stepped on or pushed by the crowd.    “I’ll be right here.” He squeezes your hand before letting go.    And you push past the horde of students. “Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry…”   “Aw man, I have my internship at a grocery store?! This sucks.” — “The hell is Dog World.” — “Oh my god, oh my god! I got into the East Wood Country Club! Fuck yes!”   Finally, you stumble out of the crowd to the very front. The list is grouped together by locations and you search your name on the paper posting. After an antagonizing minute, you find it. “Kim’s…..Wedding Cake Company….”   Blood drains from your face. It runs cold.   Jeon Jungkook is coming with you.   //   You stomp your foot and cross your arms. You’ve been pouting for the past hour. But you can’t help the distress — not when you were still unable to comprehend it. It was the worst news on Earth. You thought your eyes were wrong, that maybe the posting or printer made a mistake, but the email wasn’t any different either.   “I can’t believe I have to go with that jerk! It’s all ruined!”   “I know, baby.” Seokjin pouts with you, sympathizing with your situation. He pulls you in to plant a kiss at the top of your head. “But you’ll be okay. Promise.”   The way he says it calms your nerves, but that doesn’t mean you still aren’t frustrated to no end.   There was only one paid internship to be done. One that was supposed to pave your way, help with the rest of your career, teach you things that couldn’t be learned through lectures and classroom work. But your one shot is destroyed. In shambles. What should be a fantastic experience is going to be a dreadful one.   Why did things never go right for you?   “I just….I just really wanted to be hired at your company.” You look up at him, eyes stinging and glossy with tears that threaten to shed.    Your plans are ruined.   “It’s okay. You can always apply after graduation.”    “I know.” You sigh. “But of all people, why him?”   A few hours later, the pair of you catch up with your friends at the dining center for dinner, and they quickly notice the way you’re not necessarily jumping for joy, but rather grieving. “Not...good news, I presume?”   Moonbyul gasps. “Did you not get hired anywhere-OW!” She rubs the spot where Sandeul smacked the back of her head for being tactless.   “It’s not that,” you reassure them with a small smile. “My internship is at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company.”   Ken’s eyes are enlarged. “Oh shit.”   “Wedding cakes?!” Hani sharply inhales. “That’s brutal.”   “No, it’s not that either. I don’t mind. It’s just…” You steal a glimpse at your boyfriend. For one, you wanted to go where he went and secondly— “I’m with Jeon Jungkook.”   “Who?” Ken asks, brows furrowing.   “You know, the black haired kid,” Moonbyul says in an attempt to jog his memory.   But the man’s impassive expression doesn’t waver or alter. “You literally described at least a quarter of the population.”   “The one that looks like a rabbit, you idiot.” Hani makes grand gestures. “The deer-looking fellow. You know, the cute one.”   “Right!” He snaps his fingers, as if that was enough to remember him by.   You shake your head. “He’s not cute. He’s an ass. Steer clear territory.”   “Can’t you steer clear from him?” Sandeul asks before he slurps up his carbonara and then chews in his cheek. “There’s like what— four or five kids coming with you? You can probably avoid him if you wanted to.”   “No.” It dawns on you just how bad the circumstances are. “Apparently only two of us are going there. At least I didn’t see anyone else assigned to that place. It’s only going to be just him and I.”   “Yikes.”   “Not helping, Hani.” Seokjin gives her a look that makes her sheepish and mumble an apology. “It’s not going to be that bad.” He reaches for your hand underneath the table, a private place without the prying eyes of his friends. “It’s only for three months and it’s during summer. It won’t happen for quite some time.”   “Yeah.” You squeeze your hand tenderly with his.    It’s wondrous how effective Seokjin’s reassurance is. You feel like there’s no reason for you to be afraid, for you to dread the inevitability. He makes you feel like you could take on anything.   All plans have their obstacles. Maybe this is just yours. Things always have a way of working out after all. You’ll get your experience, do your internship without talking to him, and then apply where Jin will be working after. You just have a feeling — call it your intuition — that it’ll work out.   //   But you’re still somewhat unsettled. You wonder if there’s a way you could switch. At least it wouldn’t hurt to take your chances and ask, then you knew you tried and did all you could. So with a hopeful heart, you approach the office area and open the door. The secretary is gone from her desk, maybe gone to take a bathroom or coffee break, so you take a seat in the waiting area.   One second passes before you overhear a familiar voice that you’ve grown to detest.   “—don’t see how I’m qualified at all! I haven’t even learned about wedding cakes yet!” The frustration is tangible. “It’s a course for next year!”   “Then you’ll get a head start from your classmates, Jungkook.”   There’s an audible sigh and his voice becomes calmer. “Miss. Kang, please. I just don’t understand how I could be put in something I didn’t even apply for.”   “What do you want to do, Jungkook?”   “Pardon?”   “What is it that you want to do after you’ve gotten your diploma?”   “I want to be a chocolatier.” There’s a pause. “A Master Chocolatier. I want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters. That’s why I applied for Oliver’s and Tokyo Confectionery. Spending my time and my internship at a place that does chocolate is important to me. Not wedding cakes.”   “Well, you’re lucky then. I personally know the couple that runs Kim’s Wedding Cake Company. They’re good friends of mine and the man who runs the place with his wife is actually a chocolatier. He studied in Paris and has been in the industry for more than ten years. I feel like you could learn a lot from him, Jungkook. Remember, it’s not the place you go to, but the mentor that you have. Think it over. Give it a few days. If you still have concerns, we can talk about it.”   Jungkook huffs in exasperation and grabs his bag. He mutters a reluctant ‘thank you’ before leaving the office. He doesn’t take one look back but on his way out, he catches you staring straight at him in the waiting area. His steps slow but then he scoffs, looks away and walks out.   When you get a chance to talk to the lady organizing internships, it’s brief — she apologizes and tells you there’ll be no changes made. There’s no arguing, you know that much. Not when Jungkook quite literally tried every desperate plea in the book.   You end up leaving and at the same exact time, Jungkook exits the men’s locker area, changed back into his regular attire. The two of you nearly bump heads, running into each other.   “Are you following me?” he flat out asks when your eyes meet.   You raise a brow, freezing in the middle of the hallway. “Excuse me?”   “Are you following me,” he repeats with a sharp tongue, obviously still peeved over his previous interaction with Miss. Kang. But you don’t know why he’s putting it on you and making such outlandish accusations. There was absolutely no limit to his cockiness.   “Get your head out of your ass, Johnson. I don’t have the time or day to follow you around.”   “Then what are you doing here?”   “I don’t think I need to tell you where I am or what I do.”   “Whatever.” Jungkook rolls his eyes and brushes past you.   But you turn onto your heel and shout after him—   “Do you really think you’ll make it?”   “What?” He shifts around to glare. His thick brows are knitted, mouth downturned.   “Do you really think you’ll make it as a chocolatier?” You meet his eye and a smirk pulls on your features. A rush of air leaves your nose in a snort. “You? Really? You want to compete in The World Chocolate Masters? That’s cute.”   “At least I have actual ambitions and goals and I’m not here for the sake of my boyfriend.”   “Excuse me? What are you trying to say?”   “Don’t play dumb and act like you didn’t follow your little boyfriend here.”   “You don't know anything about me, Jeon.”   “I don’t? I know that you’re not passionate about baking, that’s for sure. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have fucking stolen—”   “Fuck you,” you spit. “I didn’t.”   “Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs. “Get real, Y/N.”   He gets the last word. Jeon Jungkook turns around, walking away with his bag slung over his shoulder. You shout insults after him but he ignores it, making you look like the fool.   Tears sting your eyes and your teeth grit. He’s an asshole through and through. You don’t know why you even bother wasting your breath.    If Seokjin was the most patient, kindest person and the person that you love the most — then Jeon was the complete opposite. You will forever detest his very being.   //   Your hand is squeezed and you’re brought out of your thoughts.   “Babe? What’s wrong?”   You look to your boyfriend. That’s right — you love him and this man loves you. There’s nothing else that could ever matter more than this. “Nothing. I just had...a really long day today.”   Seokjin stops walking and spreads open his arms wide. He gestures to you. “Come here.”   A smile pulls into your features and you jump into him. Jin laughs, stumbling back as you cuddle into his chest. His arms wrap securely around your frame, shielding you from the cold, from the darkness of the night.   You feel safe.   “I love you.”   He hums and kisses the top of your head. You’re beginning to feel better already.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shadows and Pills - 2

Summary: Some people come away from the Battle of New York with scars and broken bones. Some come away with nightmares and years of therapy ahead of them. Some don’t come away at all. Alexa comes away with a shadow.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Warnings: RAPE, Torture, Abuse, Self Harm, Negative Images of Psychological Services/Mental Health Professionals, Hallucinations, Stalking, Supernatural Horror, Prescription Drug Use and Eventual Abuse, Mental Illness, PTSD, Flashbacks of Violence, Flashbacks of Tragedy, Starving Oneself, Isolation, Physical and Mental Exhaustion, Denial, Self Neglect, Gaslighting, Mental Spiraling, Mental and Emotional Abuse

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This is not a happy story in any sense, at any point. I could only write this at my lowest places, emotionally and mentally speaking, and I had a hard time coming back from it. This is dark, and it does not at any point get lighter. I relied heavily on my own experiences with mental struggles and took a few pieces here and there from my own experiences with mental health professionals. MY EXPERIENCES ARE MY OWN AND ARE NOT TYPICAL, NOT EVEN FOR ME. If you need mental help of any kind, please DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT TO GET IT. This story was an exercise in mental exorcism, in a sense.

For all the Loki lovers out there, I do not shine him anything like a good or redeeming light here. He is evil incarnate, more or less. I love Loki, I love good Loki and redeemed Loki and misunderstood Loki and just about every incarnation thereof. I needed a villain, and he fit the story.

Above all, please be kind. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever written, and it took me years to work up the courage to post it.

A massive thank you to all my friends for support, especially to @glassjacket and @thoughtslikeaminefield . I say it a lot, but you need to know I love you.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Word Count: 1 - 3785; 2 - 3513; 3 - 1068

In Case You Missed It: Part 1 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

Shadows and Pills

2

Morning Routine: Already woken up. Shut off alarm with a shriek of terror by heaving it across the room with enough force that it shatters against the wall. Breathing exercises for thirty minutes to lower accelerated heart rate. Shower until the hot water is long gone and hypothermia is close to setting in, but she still can’t get clean. The thick, mucus-like sensation won’t leave her skin, glue and ashes spread thick over her flesh in a foul assault to her tactile senses that leaves her dizzy and faint if she considers it for too long. Throw out every scrap of food in the apartment; just the sight of it makes her gag and retch. Choke down the meds (the only thing she can stomach, at this point). Throw on clothes she’s mostly sure are on the correct end of her body. Grab her keys, and…

Where…

She always puts her keys in the same spot. Dish on the tiny table by the door. That’s her key dish. She knows she put them there. They are always there. She can remember putting them there; it’s one of the precious few things she knows she can do right these days.

So…

Why aren’t they there?

Thirty minutes turning the entire apartment upside down looking for the keys, ignoring the shadow that follows her from room to room, skittering to a far wall whenever the shadow runs too near, pretending that she is still alone, searching, searching, where the hell are they, I always put them in the dish, I know I dropped them in there, I can hear the clink from when I put them away yesterday where could they possibly have got to it’s not like THEY’D WANDER OFF BY THEMSELVES WHERE ARE MY GODDAMNED KEYS-

A searing, ripping pain tears her from her spiraling thoughts and back to the present where her hands are clenched in her hair, her nails dug into her scalp, and something slick and hot slides between her fingers. She releases her clenched fists, but her fingers come away smeared with blood and clumps of hair, and her shoulders begin to tremble, her mouth quivering and eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I just...need my keys. I need to breathe. I need my keys. I need-”

<clink>

Her head whips toward the sound, and there they are. In their dish. In the same dish she knows she left them in last night. Where they absolutely were not sitting seconds ago.

“But. I didn’t. They-“

No.

She snatches her keys and flees, followed closely by her personal nightmare.

...

The silence stretches out longer than even Alexa is comfortable with. The constant scratching of the doctor’s pen has quieted, and still Alexa sits, unnerved but unwilling to speak without direction. Answering questions is fine, but if she speaks on her own, she’ll start babbling. And there are a few things she needs to not say.

Like how she’s averaging about an hour of sleep a night, according to her clock. The nightmares start every time she falls asleep. She remembers less and less about any of them, to the point where the only way she knows she was even asleep is the inevitable rip back to consciousness.

And she’s not just missing parts of her dreams. Her days are beginning to blur, individual moments bleeding into others until she’s lost whole chunks of time, hours that are a smear in her memory with no real details. The loss, both of her days and nights, shakes her more than the lack of sleep. What else is she losing, along with her memory?

She can’t tell him why she’s wearing a hat or how she has to set reminders on her phone to stop tearing at her hair, how she has to clean her scalp and hold pressure at least once a day to stop the bleeding and try to repair the damage done by digging nails and ripped follicles.

She can’t tell him about how she can’t look in mirrors anymore. Two days ago, she was brushing her hair out into a ponytail with the intention of wrapping it into a skull-aching bun that might help hold everything inside her head and maybe possibly help her keep her fingers out of her hair, and then suddenly the eyes looking back out at her weren’t her own. Brown bled into ice blue then green in a flash; a wicked, cruel smile curved her lips, and she could feel herself smile, but she wasn’t smiling, and-

So, no, she shouldn’t lead the conversation today. Today Alexa needs a little guidance.

She feels the doctor’s gaze, but there’s less scrutiny than usual. His eyes feel a little more sympathetic than she’s used to, but she still won’t look up. He’s good at getting her to talk, and she needs every ounce of self-control just to keep herself held together and not exploding across his polished, pristine desk.

“Alexa, you don’t look like you’re...How have y-”

She must look pretty wretched if even the doctor is at a loss for words. She wouldn’t know. She has actively avoided all reflective surfaces for two days and has no idea of the state of her appearance. She can’ remember the last time she ate. What’s left of her hair is tucked under a knit cap; she’s cold all the time now, anyway, so the cap is a constant accessory. And it helps keep her hands out of her hair. If her looks are anything as bad as the state of her thoughts-

“I’m sorry it’s so bad for you right now.”

The statement is quiet, sincere, and wholly unexpected. Alexa almost drops her guards, almost meets his eyes. Her hands quake with the effort of maintaining her silence, clutching the edges of her chair with aching, creaking fingers. Her control is as brittle as her nerves; she wants to share, wants to not be alone with the shadow that’s her only company these days, but if the doctor knew…

“Are you sleeping anymore at all?”

She nods once, a sharp, staccato gesture that leaves out more than it says. It’s not a lie. One hour, however broken up in however many fragments, is still one hour, and sleep is still sleep.

“Are you following your medication schedule?”

Another single dip of her chin. She gives herself a little credit for not leaving anything out of this answer. She’s even remembering to follow the dosage increases. Maybe even a couple of increases of her own. Anything to numb, to shut out, to keep...it...away.

“Alexa, are you still with me?”

God, she wishes...everything feels muffled and thick, like her existence is coated in petroleum jelly. She's just so tired, and everything is so heavy and...and difficult…

“I can’t help you if you won’t communicate with me. Help me help you. Anything. Just the basic facts.”

Where to even start? Maybe getting locked up would be worth it if he really can help, can really make this...stop…

“I can ease your pain and get you on your feet again.”

She’s pretty sure nothing can help at this point, so really there’s no need to keep anything back. Being hospitalized can’t be any worse than living like this…

“Relax. Can you show Me where it hurts?”

No.

...no...not here, not…

“Your lips are moving, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Is there something you wish to confess? The good doctor can’t reach you now, but I am ready to receive your prayers. Speak, Alexa. Tell Me everything.”

Get out, get OUT, I have to go, I can’t, you can’t this isn’t - GET OUT!

“ALEXA! Wake up! You’re safe! Come back!”

Fingers, firm in their grip, but warm and clean and so very present, clench around her hand, pulling her out of her mind and back to the office. The rushing noise in her ears fades until she realizes it is the heaving of her own panicked breaths. She clenches her fingers, catching the doctor’s hand before he can pull away.

She hasn’t touched another person since she left the hospital.

“Please...I just need...a minute.”

He sits in the chair closest to her, holding her hand resolutely, despite any personal protocols to the contrary that he has demonstrated in previous sessions.

“As long as you need.” There is no eagerness, no exasperation, only concern and calm, and it soothes her raw nerves in a way nothing else has. She focuses on the warmth, the sheer thereness of his grip, and breathes, squinting her eyes against the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.

Too bright, too warm, too…

The fingers in her palm chill suddenly, their embrace tightening painfully. Her hand feels slick, not with sweat, and her teeth begin to chatter. Her eyes squeeze shut as her stomach shatters, and a pitiful mewling escapes her lungs.

“Take all the time you need. I possess the patience of millenia.”

Breathe. Breathe slowly, you’re asleep. You’re exhausted, you just fell asleep. Wake yourself up. You can do this. Just...just breathe and wake up.

And then her hand is free of all contact, and the air in her lungs comes easily. The warmth of the filtered sun returns to her frozen limbs, not overly bright in the least.

“I think our session was particularly productive today.”

The therapist's voice comes from farther away, and she opens her eyes to find him back at his desk, pen in hand, legal pad full of fresh notes. She blinks, swallows, and sits up a little straighter.

“You seem to be making excellent progress with your strategies. Go ahead and up your dosage to the next step. Remember, I’ll be out of town on Thursday and Monday, so I’ll see you again in ten days. You have the emergency number if anything goes wrong?”

She nods numbly, unable to process anything beyond the basic requirements of behavior needed at the moment. He eyes her, his forehead wrinkling in sudden concern.

“Don’t hesitate to call that number at any hour,” he finally says, his fingers steepled to show just how serious, how sincere, he is. “Anything at all, whatever you need to talk about, call that number. The nurse will transfer you immediately if it’s an emergency. Will you call if you need to?”

She nods, a little more vaguely than she intends but her throat is paralyzed, her tongue nerveless and useless. He accepts the gesture at face value, though, and dismisses her with wishes for “continued progress and a good weekend.”

…

Afternoon routine: Stay out as late as possible, put off the inevitable. Stay out all goddamned night if she has to. There’s no point in voluntarily returning home; she knows this with a sense of dread as acute and sharp as the pain in her scalp. So she shuffles on, unseeing and unseen in the city that never sleeps, one of a numberless mass who denies reality for the sanity that fantasy provides, pretending that she isn’t being stalked, that she isn’t haunted by a continuous loop of ghosts and flashbacks of the dead from that day reminding her over and over that she survived while they didn’t, that she must remember them, that she isn't losing her mind, that the shadow isn’t constantly whispering to her, commanding her over and over and over to simply let go.

She pretends that she isn’t blacking out and waking to find herself in bed, night after night, in the midst of torment and debasement that her ragged mind can neither handle nor shut out. The shadow rips at her in a thousand ways, and she feels all of them, every shred of her consciousness pulled apart and examined and manipulated until she can’t remember who she was before this fundamental desecration.

Release yourself. I can break you completely, help you forget the pain and the misery. Let Me shatter you, remake you in My Glory. Only then can you truly be free from pain.

She fights. It’s all she has left, this battle of wills, and she clings to the tattered bits of her remaining self with a tenacity that impresses even the shadow.

How you shine, even in My darkness. Let me turn your burn to an icy one, let Me freeze your pain, let go and drift in My adoration. I shall raise you up; only grant Me entrance, give Me leave, and I will bless you, bring meaning and solace to your piteous existence.

God help her, she’s starting to slip. She just wants everything to end. No one will miss her, no one is depending on her. The only noise her phone has made in weeks are the reminders that she has set. She hasn’t sent in an assignment for nearly a month, and no one has so much as emailed. What is she holding on for, anyway?

You have fought so long and so hard. I can reward your valor, provide you a balm for your suffering. I will keep you safe from pain, from truth, from choice, from other poison devils. I can take the very memories from you, just as I did before, save you from yourself.

What?

And then her mind is flooded with a scene, a memory of the attack, but she sees it from outside herself, as if watching a film with herself as protagonist. She flees as debris falls all around, narrowly missing pipes, concrete, and office furniture as it rains down mindlessly, destroying life after life. By the time she reaches the ground floor of the stairwell, everyone is packed tight and covered with blood, dust, unspeakable filth, and the wretched crowd bursts into the lobby in a blind panic. They reach the street in the same state and turn as one to flee in the direction of least resistance.

Alone in the crowd, Alexa is jerked to a halt, nearly losing her feet as bodies plow around and nearly through her, but she is frozen as if glued to the pavement. There is no safety anywhere. A battle rages around them, monsters everywhere, incomprehensible and terrible, and then the glass lobby doors behind them explode, and Alexa knows the brief but exhilarating sensation of flight.

And then she crashes, and she knows the timeless and terrible sensation of fire. And pain. And crushing weight.

Watching the scene passively, she remembers everything, she feels everything even as her other self does, but now she is also an outside witness to the anguish. She knows the lines of suffering etched on her face and knows that she wears them even now. She feels the words echoing through her mind from that day, a thought, a plea, a silent prayer to someone, anyone who can help, can end her suffering.

How long...minutes...hours...years...just help, please…please, I don't care how anymore, just...end it.

And then a figure drops from the heavens, it seems, falling from one of the monsters’ flying vehicles, and it crosses the street and sidewalk as if drawn straight to her by the waning strength of her silent screams.

An impossibly cold hand grasps hers, pulling her up from the rubble, sliding her from underneath the bits of building as if they aren't present and pressing the life from her, bringing her face to face with darkness. The sun dissolves, shadows descend, and she decides that, as deaths go, hers could be worse.

She is lifted as if she weighs nothing, the fingers pressing into her face. A bitter, gelid frost flows through her veins, and the pain is mercifully dulled, lessened to a mere phantom, and then the god (for surely her savior can be no less to have such power at hand) pulls her into an icy, terrible embrace.

I find Myself in need of a conduit. Grant Me some small space of sanctuary, and in return I shall heal your broken body. Allow Me entrance, now, woman, before you depart this plane entirely. I am your God, your only chance of salvation. Do you accept Me?

His voice is black velvet, midnight shadows slipping across the moon, and she can’t find the will to say no. Giving in is so much easier, hurts so much less, and she feels as if she’s been hurting forever, spent her whole life being crushed to death.

“Yes.”

His lips press to her, but there is nothing tender in the kiss. Ice, death, absence rushes into her, infecting a small fraction of every cell, sinking deep into her psyche before erasing all remembrance of its presence.

Alexa thrashes under the weight of the memories, the weight of the phantom debris crushing her down, only to find the man, the god himself lies atop her, pinning her emaciated form to her ruined sheets. His pale skin glows in the night, his ebony hair falling around their faces in an blasphemous mimicry of a halo. His painful beauty rips one last thing loose within her, and she remembers.

I would that you should allow Me leave to heal you once more, to form you into a proper vessel. I shall alleviate your anguish, and you may sink into My worship with euphoric, blissful abandon.

She is tempted, more so than any other time in her existence. She thought her imprisonment under the shattered building was horrible, but now she knows true torment. And yet, she resists.

Why do you continue to battle? You cannot prevail, and submission will bring you such pleasure as you have never known. Am I not your own personal God to worship? Do you not wish to drown in My blessing, to submerge yourself in My oblivion?

But he is the author of her suffering, as well, this would-be god who attacked her city, killed thousands of people for his ambitions and family squabbles. Who is she to tarnish the world’s grief for her own personal relief?

But he knows what is in her heart and her thoughts; it was there he planted the seed that has grown to strangle her sanity and reality, and he sends pressure through the roots of this vine to dig into her very soul. She shivers beneath him with wordless agony.

His face presses against hers, tongue snaking out to trace a tear track up her cheek, back to its source. Frozen lips ghost over her clenched eyelids, and she swallows the miserable moan that rolls up from her stomach.

I saved you once when I could so easily have allowed you to continue your half-life under the rubble until your flame sputtered and died, as it was meant to. And I shall show Myself once more a merciful, benevolent God. For you, My pet, a gift.

And suddenly there is a space in Alexa’s mind, a blank where something, someone, important once lived, someone vital stripped away. She gets a last glimpse of a smiling woman, proudly showing off a photo of a swaddled infant, of a filing cabinet collapsing, of a curling hand, before Brenda is ripped from her mind like so many strands of hair from her scalp. The pain of Brenda’s death, the horror of her last moments, yes, but also every bit of the love between them.

And then the name is gone, too.

Have I pleased you? Do you see now what relief can be had with submission?

“That...wasn’t...she wasn't yours to take-” But even the memory of the violation is fading, leaving only breathless, panicked horror and dull, aching want in its wake.

The shadowed god frowns, displeasure pressed into every line of his face, and his fingers tighten until the bones in Alexa’s wrists shriek in protest.

Must I nail Myself to a cross or rip out My eye to be worthy of your reverence? I grant you one more gift, then, of choice. One day to consider. Embrace My oblivion freely, willingly, joyously, as you know you should, and feel My pleasure. Or suffer in your belief that this pale, pointless realm offers you anything like what I can give. This shall be My last offering. Submission is sweetest when freely given, but so, too, can I revel in seizing what you so stubbornly withhold.

His lips seal over hers, stealing air and screams alike, and she feels him everywhere at once, emphasizing his threat, his promise. Her traitorous flesh, craving any tourniquet to stem the endless flow of pain, cleaves to his frozen form, curving against his body in a mockery of love making that leaves her stomach heaving.

And then he is gone. His presence, his pressure, his shadow, even his laugh lingers, but his form vanishes with her next thought. She falls from the bed, a perspiring, retching, wailing mess. There is nothing left within her to eject, but her digestive tract makes a resounding effort.

It’s hours until the sun comes up, and she counts every second from where she shivers, wedged tight between the bed and the nightstand. ...

3 (end)

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 11

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 5.3k

warnings: ryu says: be extremely careful with this one. extremely triggering; extreme descriptions of violence, domestic abuse, sexual abuse of a minor, child abuse, foul language, traumatic/suggestive descriptions

description: Han Jisung finally recounts the dark events of his past, revealing just what made him into the monster he is today. the world as you knew it has flipped on its head in the span of one night, and time is running out for you to decide who you’ll stand by.

watch the trailer here!

11| young god.

“Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop,

And when the wind blows, the cradle will rock.”

Mama’s singing voice was soft in Jisung’s ears, her gentle fingers smoothing out the locks of his hair. He was curled up into her side, his tiny fists, which had been clutching stubbornly at her nightgown, finally loosening as his heavy eyelids drooped. Jisung couldn’t even remember what nightmare he had been having before he had cried out involuntarily and woken his mother, the warm embrace that followed immediately soothing the tightness in his chest and drying the tears on his cheeks.

Mama was always so warm. Mama was home, and Mama was safe.

This was the earliest memory Jisung could remember — every time something triggered all the flashbacks, the nightmares, he would always find himself back here — in this memory, in Mama’s arms, everything growing less and less clear every time. It was like wading through muddy waters, a thickening shroud of fog, as if his memories had become a frayed photograph — blurred at the corners and fading out of focus. 

Eventually, he had stopped trying to remember altogether, and the lullaby became nothing more than white noise ringing in the back of his mind.

━━━━━━━━

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

The box was wrapped in gold paper, complete with a red bow and ribbon. Covered in little Santa Clauses and Christmas tree patterns, it was small, but weighted enough to make Jisung’s arms slightly sore from holding it. Father would have called him weak had he said anything, so Jisung bit his lip and sucked it up.

“Man up, boy,” he would bark, delivering a slap to the side of Jisung’s head that was hard enough to make his eyes water. “Don’t tell me I raised a little girl?”

Mama would tell him not to mind his words.

Father was watching him now, leaned back on the couch. Maybe there was a glint of impatience in his eyes, but Jisung didn’t notice it as he slowly undid the bow, fingers barely touching the paper for fear of ripping it as he unwrapped it. He never got gifts on his birthday — in fact, Father didn’t even seem to remember the date at all, and Mama never had the money to buy him anything. Christmas, though, was easier to remember.

The fluttering paper fell away to reveal a black box, and when Jisung lifted the lid it something shiny — metal? — caught his eye. 

“Cost me a damn fortune. Old geezer down at Young Wings gave me a load o’ shit...”

Mama glanced over at his father, a hand hovering above his arm before withdrawing it timidly. Jisung’s attention was still fixed on the present — it was a camcorder, and brand new; the polished silver metal winked at him, and Jisung pulled it out with wide eyes. He flipped open the screen, fingers fumbling with the power button. The red recording light blinked at him like a rabbit’s eye. Grinning, Jisung held it up to his parents, smile not faltering despite Father’s disinterested eyes and Mama’s tense features.

Mama smiled into the lens. “Merry Christmas, ‘sungie.” Jisung turned away, too fascinated with the present to notice how the smile never quite reached her eyes. 

They didn’t celebrate any more Christmases after that.

━━━━━━��━

“February 22nd, 2005.” Jisung cocked his head, squinting at the viewfinder as it came into focus. “Yes! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.” His tongue ran over the gap where one front tooth used to be — he’d lost his first tooth a couple days ago, but he could swear the strange, metallic taste of blood was still in his mouth. He scrunched up his face. Blood didn’t taste good; he decided he wanted as little to do with it as possible.

Jisung was sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the dying rays of the sun filtering through the window and spilling onto his hair. He had been filming video logs since Christmas — dramatically narrating battles between his old teddy bear and action figurines, or pretending he was a celebrity showing guests around the house. On some days, he would prop up the camcorder and hum a radio tune stuck in his head until he fell asleep. After all, Mama said he was too little to play outside with the other kids, and Father certainly didn’t play with him.

“Darn,” Jisung mumbled as the camcorder screen went blurry again. “Why do you keep doin’ this?” He got to his feet, pacing around his room while pointing the camcorder at random items. When it still didn’t focus, he opened his bedroom door and wandered into the hallway. His father was home — Jisung hadn’t seen him all day, but he had heard sounds coming from his parents’ bedroom — and surely, Father would know what to do, right?

“Father?” Jisung called, his voice coming out more timid than he’d intended. “Um, I—I know you don’t like to be bothered, but my camcorder isn’t--isn’t working. U-um...could you, m-maybe—”

Jisung’s stutters were cut off by a loud, strange gasp that made him freeze at the door. It sounded as though someone was in pain, but not quite. The door was shut, but when he listened closely he could hear...heavy breathing...heavy breathing, and a woman’s voice. 

“Mama?” His voice was barely above a whisper as one hand scrabbled for the doorknob, twisting it open. Inside, it was dark — but his camcorder was zoomed in, and Jisung watched as it finally focused on two figures on the bed. One, his father.

And two, a woman who was definitely not his mother.

Jisung’s gaze darted wildly. Clothes were strewn all over the floor — a red cashmere coat, his father’s dress shirt. His wide, confused eyes flickered up again, adjusting to the darkness. Father wasn’t hurting the woman — no, he was kissing her; she was on top of him, touching him, and he was letting her, and Mama was nowhere to be seen, and — and — 

His camcorder clattered to the floor and Jisung felt his heart stop, both heads on the bed snapping in his direction.

“Baby, we have a little visitor.” The woman spoke first, the cool calmness in her voice turning Jisung’s skin to ice.

“Get out.” His father had locked eyes with him, and when Jisung’s feet stayed frozen in place, his father pushed the woman off and strode towards him. “GET OUT!”

Something in Jisung clicked and he unfroze, fingers slippery with cold sweat as they grabbed at the fallen camcorder and he dropped to his knees. His father was standing in the doorway now, Jisung scrambling to push himself away — back into the hallway, back into the light.

“If you ever speak a word of this to your mother, boy,” his father’s voice was a low rumble above his head, like thunder before a tempest. “I’ll ram that camera right into your skull.” His finger came to rest on Jisung’s forehead before pushing, hard, and Jisung fell backwards, watching his father’s dark face disappear behind the closed door. His head hit the floorboards, hard, but he crawled to his feet, breaking into a run back into his bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Jisung glanced down at the camcorder, a pounding headache beginning to ebb and flow between his ears. The red recording light was still blinking with the comical innocence of a child’s eye — as if forever oblivious to the things it had seen. He slid to the floor, feeling like he was about to throw up, and punched the button to stop the recording.

━━━━━━━━

“June 3rd, 2006.” The ice cream truck rushed past him, and Jisung lightly whistled its tune as it disappeared around the corner. “This is my neighbourhood! Here’s the basketball court—” He pointed the camcorder through a chain-link fence, where a couple of older boys were in the middle of a game. “There’s Levanter Park—” — a children’s playground surrounded by tall lavender flowers — “And in the distance, that’s Miroh Heights.” He shifted the camcorder upwards to film the tall buildings looming in the distance, behind the suburbs. “And we’re back to my house!”

Ever since Mama had started working more shifts, Jisung had been able to sneak out more without anyone noticing. When Father got home, Mama would have to leave, and vice versa. 

Jisung had tried his best to forget the woman in Father’s bed — after all, he hadn’t seen her since, having begun avoiding his parents’ bedroom altogether. Sometimes, he wondered if it had happened at all. It was all so strange. It must have been a nightmare.

He swung open the front door, reaching down to unlace his sneakers — and froze. On the doormat sat a pair of red heels.

Did...Mama own red heels? 

He ran into the kitchen, a familiar nauseous feeling settling in his gut. There, sitting on top of the kitchen counter, was the woman from months before. She was wearing the same cashmere coat despite the summer weather, loosely draped over her frame so her bare shoulders were exposed. 

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat. Somehow, he willed his feet to move, every fibre of his being screaming for him to run, to run into his room, to run out the door, to run anywhere that wasn’t here. But instead, he lifted his camcorder, shaking as he tried to focus on her face. This was real. He needed something to show someone that this was real. Sensing the movement, the woman turned, eyes widening in surprise before a dark smirk curled across her blood red lips.

“Well, well. Look who we have here, hm? Filming something?”

“I-I won’t tell Mama,” Jisung blurted, and the woman’s face darkened. “P-please don’t tell F-Father—”

“Oh, he’s not home, pet,” she chuckled, and stood up. Jisung felt as if his feet had rooted in place, throat painfully dry as she slowly walked up to him. “It’s just you and me.” 

There was a red Zippo lighter in one hand, and the other fished in her pockets as if looking for cigarettes. She lit it with a crackle that made him jump, and ran a long finger down the side of his cheek before glancing down at the camcorder in disdain. “Naughty, naughty. You look just like your daddy, though. Same pretty-boy eyes.”

She held his chin between two of her long, red nails and Jisung shrank away from the touch, the sound of his ragged breathing filling the air as his eyes brimmed with tears. “Not quite a man yet, though, are we?” The woman chuckled, her breath reeking of cigarette smoke and liquor. With a smirk that made Jisung’s gut flip, she shrugged the red coat off her shoulders, the heavy fabric hitting the kitchen floor. 

She was wearing nothing but lace lingerie underneath, her catlike gaze flickering back to Jisung. “Say, mama’s boy, want me to teach you how to be like daddy?” Jisung was frozen, pupils quivering as his eyes darted back and forth. “Just give me your little camera, hm? You can touch me, too. I’ll make you feel real good.” Her hands were touching him, they were grazing his shoulders and chest and roaming lower, and lower, and — 

Jisung shook his head frantically, hands shooting out to push her away — but a red-taloned hand caught his arm and halted his feeble attempts. The woman scowled, and before Jisung knew it his arm was burning  — she was pressing the lit cigarette into his forearm to snuff the flame. With a choked gasp he squirmed in pain but she wouldn’t let go, red nails digging into his forearm like a snake’s fangs as his nostrils filled with the smell of her perfume and his own burning flesh. His fingers were trembling violently around the camcorder, clutching it close to his chest for dear life.

She pressed harder, and a scream of agony ripped through his throat before he could stop it, making the woman loosen her grip in surprise. Seizing his chance, Jisung yanked his arm away before a voice thundering through the house made him halt in his tracks.

“What the fuck is that?”

So his father was home. 

The moment Jisung’s eyes shot up to meet the woman’s, it all made sense. She was leaning back on the kitchen table, red lips spread wide in a Cheshire Cat’s taunting smile. She was toying with him — she knew that the moment his father came down, wrenching the camcorder from Jisung’s hands would be child’s play.

Snapping out of his horrified state, Jisung finally willed his legs to move and he sprinted out of the front door. The woman’s high-pitched laughter was ringing in his ears even as he made it to the sidewalk and ran out of his neighbourhood, as far away as his legs could possibly carry him. The sky had darkened, the red hues of the sunset making him shiver involuntarily. When Jisung finally collapsed, it was in a field of lavender flowers on the outskirts of town.

He threw his head back towards the sky, and let the sobs rack his body until he lost consciousness.

━━━━━━━━

“December 31st, 2009.”

His own voice sounded foreign to his ears, barely above a hoarse whisper. His house was always so quiet — tip-toes and whispers and furtive glances, for as long as Jisung could remember, as if one wrong move would set off a bomb.

What Jisung would give for quiet in moments like right now.

He could hear shouting and banging on the other side of the house, shaking the walls and making him jolt with every sound. The moment it had begun he’d froze, bare legs hanging off the side of his bed before — as if by reflex — snatching the silver camcorder off of his dresser. He hadn’t picked it up in months — no, years — hadn’t been able to touch it since without feeling nauseous. The moment his skin brushed the cold metal, the memories would shoot through his head like electricity. The grits of dust it had collected bit into his palm now, his own erratic breathing filling the room.

“You fucking whore — you want to leave me? That it? Do I need to remind you that I’m the reason you’re still alive?” 

Father. Father’s voice always carried no matter how far away he was. Jisung heard pounding on the floorboards, the sound of someone running — no, crawling; his mother’s fingernails were scrabbling at the base of the stairs. There was a crash, and the struggling stopped momentarily.

“N-n-no, pl-please—” choked sobs were closing up his mother’s throat; Jisung could hear the thick tears in her voice through the paperlike walls. “You can h-hit me, y-you can — I won’t mention your--your other woman, just--God, not in front of Jisung.”

Jisung heard his father wheeze an incredulous laugh. “Jisung,” he spat. “You should’ve gotten rid of him when I told you to, eh? I’m telling you, Ji-Eun—” his mother’s name sounded foul in his father’s mouth — “I never wanted any of this.” There was a blow, and a cry of pain. “But you just wouldn’t get rid of the baby, huh? You just had to fuck everything up, and you still bitch about how hard your life is every fucking day.”

“N-not Jisung,” his mother gasped desperately, “Chungho, he’s your son—”

“THAT BOY IS NOT MY SON!” His father’s sudden roar made Jisung leap to his feet, eyes darting around his room frantically. “I never wanted a son, that boy is a mistake you made and kept.” There were footsteps coming up the stairs now, getting louder and louder — and with a jolt of horror, Jisung realised that his father was dragging his mother towards his room.

Before Jisung knew it, there was a deafening bang on his door that nearly sent him toppling to the floor, as if a body had been slammed hard on the other side. The fighting had never happened so close before — it was always, always on the other side of the house, always downstairs, as if Mama had wanted him as far away from it as possible.

Mama always told him to stay far, far away from the danger, from Father — but it had never been this bad. Jisung would always stay in his room and pray for it to end — pretending as if the shouting, the banging, the screaming was all just static from the TV he could tune out if he tried hard enough. But he knew it had been getting worse as the years passed, Father’s drunken rages growing more and more violent; Mama’s face growing sickly pale and paler still.

The sound of his bedroom door cracking at the hinges snapped Jisung back to reality. Shaking, his eyes shot to the window, under his bed, then to his closet doors. Feeling as though his feet were dragging through wet cement, he felt his legs propel him towards the closet, not even managing to shut the door properly before his bedroom door came crashing down in an explosion of splinters and plaster.

Father was crushing Mother’s weak frame into the ground, both their faces scratched from splinters of wood. Jisung’s body was pressed against the back of the closet — he was long past the age where he could hide away from the fighting in the closet. He was taller than he was years ago, his limbs having grown awkwardly lanky and so he barely fit anymore. The camcorder shook violently between his fingers as he aimed it through the tiny crack in the closet, the small crack of light revealing a fragment of the hellish scene.

Father’s huge hands were wrapped around his mother’s throat and every fibre of Jisung’s being was on fire, every inch of his body screaming for him to open the door, to save her, to stop him. His mother’s voice echoed in his ears, telling him to stay away from the danger, to run, to stay away — but Father was killing her, he was killing her—

He lowered the camcorder, trembling fingers ready to push the door open — and froze. At that moment, just outside the closet, his mother tilted her head upwards. Her eyes met his, wide and bloodshot with fear, and Jisung felt his heart stop. Mama, I’m coming, he wanted to scream, Mama, Mama, I’ll save you— 

Face contorted with pain, swollen eyes locked on his, she shook her head ever so slightly. Then Father’s fist came down with a sickening crack, and her eyes rolled backwards into her skull.

The silence that followed seemed to swallow Jisung whole. 

This couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. Mama wasn’t — Mama couldn’t be. But her whole body had fallen limp like a rag doll, and the house felt infinitely emptier, and at that moment Jisung just knew what horrible thing had just happened.

Father’s erratic breathing on the other side of the door brought him back, if only momentarily. “Shit,” the man muttered. There was so, so much blood pooling from beneath Mama’s body, slowly leaking a trail towards Jisung’s hiding place. “Bitch fucking--fucking asked for it. Had it coming…” 

Little broken sobs were beginning to bubble in Jisung’s throat as the horror sank in, pathetic hiccups growing louder the harder he tried to shove them down. His vision was growing hazy. His head was throbbing. And when his father wiped his bloodstained hands on his dead mother’s body with the nonchalance of wiping on a rag, something in Jisung’s chest snapped.

Jisung tore through the closet doors, the hoarse sobs licking like flames in his throat giving way to a roar of anguish. His eyes were burning with tears, gaze tinged with crimson red, ears ringing as his face contorted into something animalistic, something he had never felt before, something that wasn’t him. Everything was spinning; the floor was collapsing beneath his feet and threatening to swallow him whole. His hand wrapped around a long fragment of broken wood, and, as if it was an anchor to the last bits of sanity he had left, Jisung let out a bloodcurdling wail and plunged it deep into his father’s neck.

The man howled in pain, wheeling his large body around, but Jisung had already sprinted through the splintered doorframe and tumbled down the stairs. There was dark, slippery liquid all over the floors that reeked of blood and alcohol, shattered glass from bottles sinking into the soles of Jisung’s feet as he ran, his father’s heavy footsteps shaking the ground right behind him.

Jisung found himself in the kitchen, and the caricature before him turned his blood into ice. His mother had been cooking: a pot boiling over on the stove sending hot water splashing onto the tiles and onto his bare feet. The corners of his vision were blurred like a fish-eye lens, the camcorder dented but still locked between the fingers in one hand and slippery with blood. Little details jumped out at him. An open jug of cooking oil. An abandoned meat cleaver on the counter.

He whipped around just in time to see his father lunge for him, and Jisung’s mind went blank. He felt his fingers find the handle of the meat cleaver, his eyes bulging out of their sockets and trained on his father’s chest — and charged forward.

Jisung drove the knife straight into his father’s flesh with a terrible force he never knew he had, a neverending scream tearing through his vocal chords -- and brought it down again, and again, over and over and over, until several eternities later, when Jisung’s screams had finally given way to quieter, quivering sobs, his hands stiffened and he dropped the knife with a clang.

Suddenly, the house felt enormous, a seemingly endless silence flooding the suffocating air. Somehow, he got to his feet and limped out of the kitchen, stumbling back up the stairs.

“Mama,” he mumbled. His vision was blurry, eyes darting everywhere and refusing to focus. The camcorder was forgotten in his hand. “Mama?” Jisung dropped to his knees by her side, shaking hands touching her hands, her blood-drained face. 

Jisung didn’t know how long he stayed like that, by her side, silent wails racking his body as he felt the warmth slowly seep from her skin. Mama was always so warm, Mama was always safe, Mama was all he had—

And Mama was dead.

He wrapped his arms around her limp frame, trying to lift her from the growing pool of blood and down the stairs as best he could. His legs gave way before he had reached the bottom, toppling down the steps, and he landed hard on his side, dragging his mother’s body the entire way down. As Jisung’s hands scrabbled to push himself back up, crawling forwards into the kitchen, his mouth went dry as he caught a full glimpse what he had truly done. 

Red. That was the only way he could describe the remnants of his father, a giant crimson mass soaking the white kitchen tiles. Red blood on his own raw, bruised hands. And a familiar red lighter that had skidded from his father’s pocket and was now lying in the mixture of fluids on the floor tiles. The cooking oil was still on the countertop, and the moment Jisung’s eyes fell on it there was only one thought coursing through his mind.

In a single, final motion he lurched forward and brought down the jug cooking oil, feeling it sear his eyes as it splashed all over the floor, the walls, the body — before fishing the the red lighter out from the pool of blood and vodka. With the last of his strength he flicked it open, eyes mesmerized momentarily by the tiny flame — and let it fall to the ground.

Flames erupted from the floor, enclosing him in a circle of fire and heat. It was like a bomb detonating, the walls shaking violently as black smoke flooded his lungs. Choking, Jisung’s hands blindly snatched at the flames for his mother’s body, desperately trying to lift her out of the fire. The camcorder’s acrylic strap was sticking to his palm, melting into his skin as it grew unbearably hotter, flames licking at his skin as he limped forwards, no longer able to tell if he was dragging himself out of the fire or further inside of it.

Jisung’s palm smashed the screen door and it burst open. The blast of freezing winter air that hit him as he stumbled out of the building finally leached the energy from his bones, and Jisung collapsed, skinned knees buried deep into the fallen snow. The night sky was a hollow purple, the weak lights of stars drowning in the black billowing smoke from what once was his home. Cradling his mother’s lifeless body as the house burned to the ground behind him, weeping with the agony of an angel cast to the infernos of hell, Jisung could almost hear a familiar lullaby ringing in his ears.

Rock-a-bye, baby, on the treetop

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall

And down will come baby, cradle and all.

Somewhere, a firetruck sounded, followed by the growing wail of police sirens approaching — but Han Jisung was laughing like a madman.

━━━━━━━━

“They told me that there was nothing left from the fire but bones,” Jisung had told you. “The delivery lady — Old Mrs. Hwang, I think — was the one who called the police. I woke up right before the paramedics arrived and hid the camcorder’s memory chip in my pocket. It was like I already had the reflexes of--of a murderer.”

“What happened then?” You had asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Did they…”

“Find out? Never. How could a ten-year-old single-handedly burn down a building? More importantly, why would he want to? I must’ve looked traumatised enough, because the whole thing was written off as a gas explosion. Faulty pipes, something leaked, and the moment my father turned on the stove the house went up in flames.

“I was famous across the country,” Jisung’s voice was ironic, but his eyes were flat and hollow. As if he had already condemned himself long ago. “Everybody pitied and swooned over the poor, orphaned boy — but after a month had passed I became a ghost again, floating from orphanage to orphanage. Then I met Minho—” his eyes snapped up at you— “And after the kidnapping case, it was like everything had snapped again. I couldn’t run from what I had done — I could still see it, every single time I closed my eyes.

“I couldn’t save her. I should’ve died that day — no,” he had chuckled hollowly, “maybe, I never should have been born.”

The moon was three-quarters full, a pale teardrop outside your bedroom window. Your mind had been in limbo for hours now, shifting endlessly back and forth between what Jisung had said, what you had heard, and everything you had seen until now.

Jisung had finally fallen asleep beside you on the bed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but his breathing otherwise even. You had made him stay the night, a request that surprised the both of you — Jisung, who had still been respecting the distance you had forcibly wedged between the two of you — but you couldn’t bear the thought of him having more nightmares. Especially not after tonight.

Funnily enough, you thought, you’d much rather have a wanted serial killer safely sleeping next to you than out roaming the streets doing heaven-knows-what. A voice in the back of your mind mentioned how you had never expected that your first time with a boy in your bed would be under circumstances that were...less-than-favourable, but it wasn’t like you could do anything about it now.

It all made sense. It all fit together like a grotesque puzzle: the way Jisung reacted with the colour red, all his strange, uneasy symptoms, why all the victims were known to be abusers or mistresses, and oh, God — his family. Your mind flashed as you imagined him bringing the knife down on his abusive father, the scrap metal on his kidnapper — and the stone on the dead man from the Yellow Wood. It was like he had his own Mark of Cain — whoever hurt him would have the pain and wrath reenacted upon them thousandfold. 

Maybe it should have felt wrong, what you were feeling — you should have been repulsed, you should have turned him in on the spot, you should have written him off as a monster, a murderer — but you didn’t. No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. You’d seen the moments his facade had cracked and revealed the raw, vulnerable, broken boy underneath; you could feel the regret and torment he was living with every day, eating away at him from the inside like a disease. And, most of all, you saw the flashes of the boy he might have been in his wide, sheepish smile and bright, mischievous eyes, in his gentle hands and soft voice. In the fleeting moments of happiness that had been robbed from him too young. And now, you realised that you were certain about one thing.

You were absolutely, hopelessly in love with Han Jisung.

Your eyes wandered to his sleeping face, studying the dark circles beneath his eyes, the stress ingrained in the lines of his features. You had seen the same shadows in Lee Minho’s expression — these boys who had grown up with worry and pain etched into their faces like scars.

Jisung shifted slightly, mumbling incoherently and changing sleeping positions. After hesitating for a moment, you gently took his wrist in your hand, gingerly studying his hands and ankles.

Sure enough, there were faint white lines where cable ties and rope had once burned into. Jisung’s shirt had hitched up slightly, revealing rosy skin dappled with numerous bruises and mapped with more miscellaneous scars that all told the same, horrible story.

Your eyes finally settled back onto Jisung’s face again, a knot of bittersweet emotions festering in your chest. Outlined in the silver moonlight, he looked ephemeral — like a young god with too much power thrust into his hands, cold and damaged and beautiful; capable of the most terrible things. 

You didn’t know what was going on inside his mind, and you had no idea how things would change when morning came. It felt like he was slipping from your grasp the harder you tried to hold on. Was this how Minho had felt? Out of control? If so, you were beginning to understand why the coroner had wanted to help Jisung in the first place, to mask the ugly truth. To protect his friend, the only brother he’d ever known.

“Trust me, y/n, I was in your position once, too. You’re just like how I was.”

Maybe you weren’t so different from Minho, after all. Because as you watched Jisung’s sleeping figure, felt his body warmth pressed up beside you as something in your chest swelled in both tenderness and pain — you knew you were more than willing to lie for him, too. If you could save Han Jisung’s life, if you could bring back the boy with the happy, angel-like smile from your very first date — no, if you could keep even a fragment of the light and peace left in his eyes, then that was what you had to do. You would hide everything until — until the case was closed.

And maybe, you thought as the moon burned into your drooping eyes, just maybe, everything will be okay.

[byunsbobobu]

Surprise! Part 2 [ M ]

Baekhyun Best Friend/Idol x Reader PART 2 

Fluff, angst, smut

( unprotected sex, fingering, and just smut )

Word Count: 3650

Part 1

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{Summary: Your best friend Baekhyun has been away on tour with his group mates EXO. You haven’t seen him in over 5 months. No calls, text messages, nothing. Busy with his touring schedule you thought you would never see your best friend for another couple months. You’d stay up late at night hoping he’d call to talk to you about his day, but he never did. You began to think he had forgotten about you, until one night you decide to give him a call unexpectedly he picks up and, the next thing you know Baekhyun shows up at y/n door surprising her}

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(Previously….)

“You okay Hyunjin?” you ask. “Yeah! Totally. I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner?” He asks. Both of you entering inside your apartment building, Hyunjin holding the door for you to enter before him. Smiling at him and thanking him heading inside towards your apartment complex you both trade glance at each other. He was blushing you could tell. You knew Hyunjin had somewhat of a crush on you and you thought it was so cute how flustered he would get around you. You were about to answer his question until you saw someone standing at your door. You paused. Hyunjin looked at you with confusion. “y/n are you okay? What’s wrong?” Hyunjin asks. “Hey, Hyunjin I’ll talk to you later. We can do dinner another time.” You tell him quickly walking towards your door not moving your eyes on the person leaning against your door. You couldn’t believe he was here in front of your door after all this time. He was here. Baekhyun…

 You made your way towards your door. You were now in front of him “Baekhyun?” you ask rather surprised, with a smile on his face he moves from against your door walking towards you. Now standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets. He speaks “Long time no see y/n”

 ______________________________________________________________________ 

[PRESENT]

“B-Baekhyun?” you were speechless. You couldn’t believe he was standing here right in front of you at your door. “What are you doing here?” your voice cracking from being nervous.  “I came to visit y/n. What’s it look like?” He chuckles rubbing the top of your head. ‘You don’t seem to happy to see me?” He asks, his smile fading slowly, but not completely not sure why you were acting so weird at his being here. “N-no, that’s not it. You stuttered. Damnit y/n. You mentally slap yourself in the forehead for being so nervous. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you that’s all. I’m always happy to see you Baekhyun.” You smile at him. His big smile makes its way back onto his face and you can’t help admiring how good he looks. Not having seen him in so long he’s changed a lot. His hair was a platinum blonde color now and it looked longer falling down past his eyes a bit showing a bit of his forehead. His hair looked so soft. You just wanted to touch it. Baekhyun was wearing a long sleeve black shirt that showed off his broad chest that you couldn’t seem to stop staring at, paired with light washed blue ripped jeans and black high-top converse, along with a long chain necklace dangling around his neck. He smelt so good too that you couldn’t help, but lean closer towards where he was standing. Baekhyun’s cologne had a woody’s and warm smell to it. He smelt heavenly. Unaware that you had been staring at him for a couple minutes, Baekhyun clears his throat snapping you out of your trance. Having noticed you were staring at him Baekhyun smirks. You lower your head bashfully avoiding his eyes hoping he didn’t see the blush that was creeping up on your cheeks. “So, you going to let me in, or are we just going to stand out here all night?” His voice deep and raspy voice with a hint of amusement from catching you staring at him earlier, a hint of a smirk still plastered on his gorgeous face. “Yeah.. come on.” You step in front of him facing your door. Looking through your purse for your keys mentally cursing yourself for not telling your roommate to leave the door unlocked like you usually do. Hands shaking from the close proximity of Baekhyun standing behind you, his chest slightly pressed up against your back that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.  Fuck! Why is he so close to you? You can’t seem to focus with him being this close to you. Your body is on fire you feel yourself start to sweat. Finally grabbing your key’s from out of your purse you push it in the lock twisting it and finally unlocking your door. Turning the nob slowly you, both enter.

 You praise god that your roommate wasn’t home. You remembered her telling you about how she was going to go out with her friends tonight, and that she wouldn’t be home until later. Sighing you and Baekhyun walk into your apartment. His eyes observing every corner of your apartment. Placing your purse on the rack by the door you walk towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink?” You ask him hoping to break the awkward silence. This is so weird. It shouldn’t be this weird and awkward with your best friend. It’s all because of your stupid crush on him. It’s messing with your head, causing you to be this way. Walking towards the living room Baekhyun takes a seat on your black leather couch. “Surprise me” He says. Baekhyun runs his hands through his hair throwing his head back a little. You swear you almost fainted at the simplest of acts ever. What is wrong with you. Get yourself together y/n. You said to yourself. “So.. y/n your call was pretty unexpected last night.” He says. “I didn’t expect you to call me so late at night.” You gulp. “Really, why not?” you ask. He shakes his head and chuckles like it’s obvious why he thought it was unexpected. “y/n you haven’t called me ever since two months ago. I thought you hated me for not contacting you all this time while I was away.” He says lowering his head a sad expression now on his face. Clearly you could tell he felt bad for not contacting you all this time. Deciding on Coke for you both you grab two cans and head towards him on the couch. You place the two cans of Coke on the glass table in front of you guys, and you take a seat beside him. He looks down at the table where the two Coke’s were placed and smirked. “You remembered how much I liked drinking Coke.” He says, now sitting up straight and looking over at you. Blushing you glance down at your hands on your lap. Reaching over and grabbing the can of Coke Baekhyun opens it and places it against his lips and takes a few gulps. His head leaning back a little bit. You watched as he drank the Coke. You couldn’t stop staring at his pink lips imagining the feeling those lips pressed up against your own. His adams apple bobbing up and down as he drank the cold beverage. You swallowed down the lump in your throat. Finally putting down the drink back on the table. He looks over at you, eyebrows raised. He definitely knew you were watching him because the next thing he said caught you off guard. “You know y/n it’s not nice to stare.” He smirks at you. Your breath catching in your throat. You swear you probably look like a tomato right now in front of Baekhyun from how badly you were probably blushing in front of him. “I-I wasn’t staring.” You say. Baekhyun chuckles turning towards you now.

 “So, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Baekhyun spoke. “About why I haven’t called you all this time.” Your ears perked up at hearing those words spill out of his mouth. “Okay..” You gave him a soft smile. “What’s the reason?’ you asked. “I called you almost every day before you left Baekhyun and you never answered any of my calls nor ever sent me a quick text.” You started to feel tears build up, your throat getting dry, but you had to hold back the urge to cry in front of him. Baekhyun lets out a long sigh. “I know y/n, and I’m sorry. I really I am. If I were you I’d hate me.” He looks down nodding his head. “I was a jerk.” Suddenly you moved closer towards him, putting your hand on his shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I understand you’ve been busy on tour and everything.” He shakes his head still looking down at the ground. This time it feels like he’s afraid of looking at you in the eyes. “No y/n. That’s not the reason I never called you while I was away.” He looks up his eyes meeting yours. How you missed looking into those soulful brown eyes of his, you thought to yourself. “Then what was the reason Baekhyun?” you ask worry now all over your face. “I knew…” he says. Your heart skips a beat at what he has just said. What does he know? you were anxious. “I knew how you felt about me.” At that moment you froze. “I knew you had started to develop feelings for me.” You can’t believe what he’s saying to you right now. You know how I’m not the commitment type of guy y/n.” He says, tears were starting to build up in your eyes again, but this time one rolls down your cheek. “H-how did you know?” You ask, your voice shaking. “Come on, y/n you don’t think I noticed the way you look at me, or how you act around me.” This can’t be happening. Baekhyun knew all this time about how you felt, and he just left you all this time without calling. I can’t believe this. This time you didn’t care if he saw you crying. “I’m sorry y/n I was a jerk. I acted so immature and in the long run I ended up hurting the one person I care about deeply and that’s you. It kills me knowing that I hurt you. I couldn’t bare calling you and hearing your voice.” You stand up from the couch anger and hurt all over your face. “You should go Baekhyun” He looks up at you hovering above him on the couch arms crossed. “y-y/n I’m sorry, but I can explain.” You didn’t want to hear any of his excuses right now. Right now, all you wanted to do was go to your room and cry. “I don’t have time to listen to your excuses Baekhyun.”

You start walking back towards the kitchen. Baekhyun gets up from the couch making his way to the kitchen where you stood. Now standing in front of the sink crying you picked up a dirty cup in the sink and started cleaning it trying your hardest to avoid talking to Baekhyun. “y/n..” He now stood behind you. He was so close to you again. Your head was fuzzy again from how close he was pressed against you. Placing a hand on your shoulder he turns you to face him. Baekhyun stares at you, your eyes bloodshot from crying. “Look at me y/n please. Don’t cry.” Baekhyun takes your face in his hands wiping off a tear that escapes from your face. He lets out a deep breath looking you in the eyes. “The reason I did what I did was because I was afraid” He began. “I was afraid of what could happen if let my feelings towards you grow so I distanced myself.” He said. ‘I was afraid of hurting you, but I ended up doing that anyways.” Baekhyun then began to lean closer his hot breath fanning your face. His eyes look down at your lips, his thumb grazes your cheek. “B-Baekhyun what are you- “You were cut off by Baekhyun’s lips pressed against yours. They were so soft. Baekhyun was gentle at first, once he saw how you were becoming more comfortable he proceeded to deepen the kiss. You let out a subtle moan allowing access for his tongue to make its way into your mouth. You can’t believe this is happening. Baekhyun is kissing you right now. His tongue is in your mouth as you both fight for dominance. Eventually you allow Baekhyun take the lead. Baekhyun pulls away shortly leaving you breathless and panting for more. You didn’t have any time to react because seconds later he attaches his lips to your neck. Kissing below your ear and down the base of your neck sucking and leaving a hickey underneath. “My sweet y/n. I hope you can forgive me.” He says as he continues his assault on your neck. His plump lips soft against your neck. Baekhyun then places a kiss on your throat and you let out a quite moan. His lips make its way to your shoulders. Baekhyun pauses, and you open your eyes. You slightly pout at him confused on why he stopped again. Baekhyun then places his hands around your hips and pulls you closer to his body. Tugging on your shirt he asks. “Can I take this off Baby?” Your heart was beating like crazy right now. You couldn’t think straight all you could think about was how good Baekhyun was making you feel. You nod giving him permission.

Once you give him permission Baekhyun reattaches his lips with yours. His hands go around your waist as he begins to lift your shirt over your head slowly. Finally taking off your shirt throwing it on the floor behind him Baekhyun grabs you by the waist again turning you around and placing you on top of the table. Baekhyun was now standing in between your legs. “You’re so sexy Baby. I should’ve done this a lot sooner” Baekhyun’s playful smirk back on his face licking his lips as he checks you out. His hands rubbing up and down your thighs in a teasing manner. Baekhyun leans in and starts kissing down your neck again his hands teasingly rubbing you breasts through your black lace bra. “How’d you know I like black lace” He says. Baekhyun’s hands make its way around your back unclasping it. Baekhyun brings his lips to your ears whispering into them “Unfortunately tonight I want to see you without it on.” Teasingly he nibbles on your ear and you get goosebumps at the action. Removing your bra, you are now seated on the kitchen table with the upper part of your body fully exposed for Baekhyun. Standing back Baekhyun pulls his shirt over his head leaving him shirtless in front of you. You can’t help, but stare at his body. “Now baby let me make it up to you” He begins. Pushing you down gently on the kitchen table. He moves closer attaching his lips on your right breast and you gasp at the sensation, his other hand massaging your left breast. You throw your head back at the feeling of Baekhyun’s lips on your breasts. His hands moving down lower towards your abdomen making its way past your stomach now reaching your shorts. Baekhyun’s hands make its way inside your shorts and he begins to rub you through your panties in a slow and teasing pace. You whimpered. “Mm” Baekhyun pulls away. “Fuck, Baby your so wet.” He continues to rub your clothed pussy through your panties watching you squirm under his touch. He smirks. You moan as you feel him slip his hands past your panties rubbing his fingers against your wet slit. “How does this feel baby hmm?” He asks. “O-oOh it feels so good Baek” You say in between moans.

Baekhyun takes this chance and pulls your shorts down your legs along with your panties leaving you bare in front of him. “Let me make you feel even better” He says. Lowering himself in between your legs. He spreads your legs open and breathes cool air on your dripping cunt making you whimper. Placing your legs over his shoulders Baekhyun begins to kiss the insides of your thighs teasingly going lower and lower to where you ached for his mouth the most. Suddenly you feel his tongue slide in between your folds as he begins to eat you out. You were now panting and a moaning mess as Baekhyun continues to eat you out. Grabbing a fistful of his hair in your hands. “Mmm” he hums cause the vibrations from his voice to make you moan. “You taste so sweet.” He says. “and to think I was missing out on this.  B-Baekhyun” You let out in between moans. “Stop teasing and just fuck me already. I need you inside me please.” You didn’t care if you sounded desperate in front Baekhyun. You’ve been wanting this for so long, and now here you are with your legs spread open as Baekhyun eats you out. “Baby can’t wait to have my cock inside her hmm” He asks. “How long have you been dreaming about my cock fucking this tight pussy of yours hmm?” Fuck you couldn’t believe how good he was making you feel. You didn’t know that you’d be so turned on by all the stuff he was saying to you. “I bet there were night where you fucked yourself with your fingers thinking about if it were my cock instead.” He continues. “And just like that Baekhyun takes two fingers and plunges them into your pussy thrusting his long slender fingers, reaching deep inside your walls. You clench around his fingers. “So tight.” He hisses. Baekhyun curls his fingers inside you hitting your g-spot. You let out a grutal moan.  All that can be heard in the apartment is the sounds of your wet pussy as Baekhyun fingers you and your heavy breathing. “Imagine if your roommate walked in and saw you getting finger fucked by me on the kitchen table like the dirty slut you are.” Your pussy clenched around his fingers. “You like that Baby? You want your roommate to see how good I make you feel.” He continues, his fingers going faster now.

 You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm. “B-Baekhyun please” You beg. “Please I need you to fuck me I can’t wait anymore.” With that Baekhyun stands up undoing his belt sliding his pants down along with his boxers. You lift your head up from the table and see his hard cock oozing with precum. He was so hard from just watching you get pleasured by him. Seeing his cock, you couldn’t hold back the moan escaping from your lips. Baekhyun grabbed his cock biting his lips and gave it a couple strokes while looking at you watching him stroke his cock. “You like what you see Baby?” He winks. You nod biting down on your lip as he makes his way to hover above you lowering his head and kissing you lips. Standing in between your legs again he rubs his cock between your wet folds teasing you. “Please” you beg. Pressing the tip of his cock against your pussy. He kisses your nose before sliding inside of you stretching your walls so good. You both let out a moan. “Fuck you feel so good. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about this exact moment.” Baekhyun begins to move inside you and sooner or later he’s ramming into you so fast. You wrap your legs around his waist wanting to have him even closer to you in any way possible. You both are now sweating and panting. Baekhyun then takes your hand placing it above your head fucking you so deep you roll your eyes back. He places kisses on your neck again and then your lips next. You could sense that you were both so close to cumming. “Fuck Baekhyun I’m gonna cum. Don’t stop please.” Baekhyun brings one hand down to your pussy again and starts rubbing your clit while his cock is still buried deep inside you hitting you g-spot so deliciously causing the feeling to become even more intense. “You gonna cum around my cock huh?” He asks. “You want me to fill you up with my cum?” Baekhyun is driving you insane your toes begin to curl. “Cum for me Baby” and with his permission you both cum at the same time. You both groan as Baekhyun rides out both your orgasms. Kissing your forehead and giving you one last kiss on your lips before he pulls out of you. Baekhyun then picks you up from the table carrying bridal style in his arms to your room. He lays you down on your bed sliding in the bed next to you. He pulls you closer to his chest nuzzling his head between your neck wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry I hurt you y/n” Baekhyun says. “I love you. I hope you can forgive me?” You froze when you heard those words. Baekhyun had just told you he loves you. “Would you be my girlfriend?” He asks. You move away from his grasp looking at him and smiling “Baekhyun you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me this.” You laugh. Pressing a kiss in the crook of your neck you reply. “Yes Baekhyun, I will be your girlfriend.” Laying back down Baekhyun pulls you back against his chest. “and I love you too” You tell him. You both eventually end up falling asleep in each other’s arms with the biggest smiles on your face.

[thehouseoflamentation]

Wanting What Isn’t Yours (Mammon x MC x Levi) Part 2 - NSFW

For Leviathan, waking up the next morning was just as awful as trying to fall asleep. He was certain he passed out somewhere along the line last night but it still wasn’t enough to quell the restless feeling that clung to the back of his mind. He knew he’d get an earful from Lucifer if he missed breakfast so he mustered up all his energy and dragged himself off towards the dining room. As soon as he took a seat however he felt his heart sink once again. The rest of his brothers had yet to make it to the table so instead he got to sit alone and enjoy the sight of you and Mammon flirting and feeding each other breakfast. He wasn’t hungry to begin with but now he had completely lost his appetite. That should be him sitting next to you! Laughing and flirting and eating together. Why did it have to be him? Why did Mammon always get to be the center of your attention? It just wasn’t fair.

Levi could feel his grip tighten on the fork in his hand before letting the utensil fall back onto the table. He wanted you to feel the same way he felt about you but then again he didn’t exactly have much to bring to the table. If he really wanted you he would have made his intentions known that fateful night and yet here he was forced to witness everything he’ll never get to experience. Having to bottle up his emotions all while pretending everything was alright was just too much to bear. As soon as he cleared what was left on his plate he got up and trudged back to his room locking the door behind him.

He didn’t have any classes that day so he planned to binge on games and anime until his frustrations subsided. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t enjoy ten minutes of peace before he heard a knock on his door. Letting out a deep sigh he got up and opened the door only to find you standing on the other side. Knowing what went down last night he couldn’t look you in the eye. His lips trembled as he stuttered and asked you why you were here.

“Levi did you forget our chat a couple days ago? You said you were free today and wanted to try a new game with me. Are you still free right now or...”

He had completely forgotten about your arrangement but at this point he couldn’t just turn you away. Muttering a soft “Sure, come in” under his breath he let you in and shut the door. Maybe this was his chance. The two of you were finally alone in his room with no Mammon in sight. He might as well make the best of the situation and take his shot. Handing you a controller, Levi turned on the game and took a seat beside you. Soon the minutes that passed turned into hours as the two of you progressed through the game. Levi was less tense than before but he knew that would all change once he made his move.

As the game faded into a cutscene he stared at your hand just inches away from his. He could have sworn he heard his heart beating in his chest but there was no way he could turn back now. With one last deep breath he paused the game and took your hand in his before turning to face you.

“MC I know this is sudden but...I haven’t been honest with you or myself lately and I need you to know that I-I...I like you! I want more than just this pact MC, I want you... ”

As his words trailed off Levi moved closer, his forehead pressed against yours while his lips hovered just centimeters away. When he finally closed the gap he couldn’t help but take advantage of the kiss by pulling you close and wrapping his arms around you. He couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to finally kiss you but here he was living out his fantasy and it was so much better than anything he could have asked for.

Unfortunately, wanting what isn’t yours rarely ends without consequences and Levi was soon going to learn that. Just as he pulled away from the kiss, the irritated sound of someone clearing their throat caught your attention. Mammon stood at the doorway, clearly pissed at seeing his brother locking lips with his human. He took a step forward and slammed the door shut, his eyes shifting between you and Levi as he drew closer. With one quick movement he gripped Levi by the collar and dragged him away from you, forcing him onto his feet.

“Levi you bastard!!! The one day I’m out for class and you think you can just TAKE WHAT’S MINE?!??”

It was rare to see Mammon this mad but it made no difference to Levi who simply wrenched himself out of his brother’s grip before shouting back in response.

“Yeah well you KNEW I HAD FEELINGS FOR THEM TOO!! WHY DO YOU GET TO HAVE MC ALL TO YOURSELF!?!?? IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!!!”

Each of them had shifted into their demon forms by now but before things could escalate any further you jumped in between the two of them.

“STOP!!!!!!! I’m not letting you fight over something like this!! I trust both of you, I made pacts with both of you, and I LOVE both of you but if you’re just going to fight then I might as well be with neither of you!!!”

Your words shut them up in an instant. The last thing they wanted was for you to hate them so they took a few seconds to regain their composure before they did anything they might regret. They were still far from being calm but that didn’t stop you from throwing your hands around both of them, pulling them into a hug before planting a few chaste kisses on their cheeks.

“Now if you’re done making a scene maybe...we can have a little fun instead?”

Their eyes widened in shock once you said that. Mammon knew exactly what you wanted while Levi blushed at the thought of it all. Your hands slipped out of their embrace as you got on your knees in front of Levi eagerly undoing his belt while Mammon undid his own. Once they pulled their pants down you began palming them through their boxers savoring their moans as precum started to stain the fabric. Seeing you kneel in front of them got them hard in no time and soon they found themselves wanting more. After getting rid of the last piece of fabric separating them from you they each took one of your hands, prompting you to keep stroking their cocks.

“Hehe...see? Sharing isn’t so bad now is it?”

As if to prove your point you give Levi’s head a few kitten licks before doing the same to Mammon drawing out another set of moans from the boys. You could feel them getting close so you decide to ramp things up a bit. Pulling away from Levi you turn your attention to Mammon, your hands on both his hips as you suck him off. As expected it didn’t take even a minute for Levi to start whining again. Despite your effort to keep both of them happy you had to admit it was cute seeing him so needy.

“MC come on that’s not faaaaaaiiiirrrrr!!!!! Y-You said-”

Without taking your mouth off Mammon’s dick you slid your pants down along with your underwear. You were now on all fours, your slick entrance plain to see. You gave your ass a wiggle signaling Levi to get behind you.

“I’m sorry Levi, what was that about being unfair?”

You stopped servicing Mammon just long enough to tease Levi one last time before he mounted you. His hands gripped your hips before moving to squeeze your ass as he started pounding into you. You weren’t sure if it was his lack of experience or his desperation that made his thrusts so erratic but neither you or Mammon were complaining. Everytime he rammed his hips into yours you took Mammon deeper and deeper down your throat. It didn’t take long before they started reaching their limit along with you so you decided to finish them at the same time. You could feel your core tightening and when you had just barely reached your breaking point you backed your ass up against Levi’s dick taking him as deep as you could while he released inside you. You didn’t let Mammon go either as you deepthroated him and swirled your tongue against the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Both of them wouldn’t let you go until every last drop of their load was in you. When they finally pulled out the three of you collapsed on the floor as the smell of sweat and sex permeated the room.

Now sandwiched between the two of them you giggled to yourself before kissing each of them again, this time on the lips. They were certainly a handful but all three of you were happy and honestly what more could you ask for?

Epilogue

When you went back to your room that night you heard a knock on the door just as you were about to hit the hay. A familiar silver haired demon let himself in just as he did every other night.

“Soooo....how was my acting back there? Looked like I woulda ripped him limb from limb huh? Hehe, seeing him with you like that I just might’ve ya know!!” Mammon chuckled to himself and sighed as he took a seat on your bed.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t but in all honesty thanks again for agreeing to let him join. He seems a lot happier now or at least more than he usually does.”

“Hmp I woulda said no but I can’t really resist spoiling ya now can I? Well whatever as long as you remember who your first was then I guess I can’t exactly complain too much.”

You scooted to the side of your bed giving Mammon some space to lie down beside you and drape an arm around your shoulder. The avatar of greed could only share so much of you before he wanted you to himself again.

“So MC?”

“Hm?”

“Since he was only mad at me… I take it Levi doesn’t know about Beel joining us in the kitchen that night?”

“.........”

“I’M GONNA TELL HIM”

“DON’T YOU DARE!!!!!”