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nctsjiho · 3 years ago

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Your Fault

warnings: strong language, consumption of alchol, mention of death without actual death, very much angst

era: July 7th 2021

❀ NCT 127's 5th anniversary isn't a day to celebrate and be happy for everyone

To Doyoung:

“Happy 5th anniversary oppa!”

“I hope you and the boys are having a great time <3”

JiHo stared at her phone intently waiting for the “sent” at the bottom of her screen to turn into “read”. She had been staring at her phone like that for nearly an hour, yet nothing changed. The girl knew that the boys were busy, but somewhere she hoped that she’d hear from them. Besides the short “wished you could be with us” message she had received the evening before from Taeyong she hadn’t heard from anyone else. Of course JiHo was aware that the boys were busy, but was it a crime to feel left out and maybe want a phone call or something more than a “wished you could be with us” from anyone?

And so JiHo continued to stare at her phone, everything on the small screen getting progressively more blurry as time went on. Her eyes were straining, one almost pressed shut, the other slowly going cross-side. Her right hand, which wasn’t holding the phone, reached out to the glass bottle on her desk. A quick shake letting her know it was empty. So she reached for the other one, opening it skilfully with one hand – like she did with the other two bottles now empty on her desk – and bringing it up to her lips. “Must be nice hm~ Being an idol or whatever…”

“I’m glad you came over.” Sihyun, JiHo’s Esteem manager that lives with her, said as she grabbed the boy’s coat off his shoulders. The piece of clothing, along with his hair, slightly damp caused by the light drizzle outside. “JiHo’s been a bit sensitive and doesn’t let me in her room. She doesn’t want to talk to me at all.” Jaemin watched the woman’s face full of worry. He gave her a small reassuring smile and then glanced at the door leading to JiHo’s room. “I’ll try to talk to her.” Thanking Jaemin, Sihyun then excused herself, telling him she had to run some late night errands.

Not knowing what was happening behind the closed door of the bedroom, Jaemin knocked a few times. “Unnie~ Just leave me- leave me alone.” JiHo hiccupped between her words, her speech sounding a bit slurred. She had been drinking? JiHo?

Without a second thought Jaemin pushed the door open. A jumbled mess of protests escaped JiHo’s lips, but she froze in her chair as soon as her eyes locked with Jaemin. “What… are you doing here?” She muttered to the best of her abilities. “Coming to check up on you.” He neared the girl and poked at the bottles and the mess on her desk. “Clearly you need it.” His tone sounded very much disappointed and for a split second JiHo felt her heart ache, but she quickly turned defensive. “I do not!”

A sigh escaped deep from Jaemin’s chest and he pulled JiHo to sit on the edge of her bed next to him. “Since when do you drink?” It was quiet for a bit. JiHo looked at the bottle of the alcoholic beverage in her hand, swirling it around by circling her wrist and then started to giggle to herself. “A new hobby?” She turned to Jaemin, a big smile on her lips – however Jaemin could see the sadness behind it easily. “It’s fun. Feeling… Nothing! I can barely feel my… my lips.” Her body swayed from side to side prompting Jaemin to grab her by her shoulders and hold her in place. “It’s fun until you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” He scoffed. “Can’t get a hangover if I don’t sleep.” She said, before turning to her desk. She then pointed at the box of another 9 bottles of alcohol next to it on the floor. “Or if I don’t stop drinking.” She grinned.

“Yah! What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s patience ran dry quickly. He just felt so furious seeing how badly JiHo was treating her own body. She never drank and now she was planning to drink 12 bottles of alcohol? Drinking herself straight into the hospital, and if it weren’t for Jaemin being here, maybe straight into her own grave. “This is strong alcohol! For all I know you can’t even handle it, so what made you decide to drink now huh?” He yelled, anger only rising watching the girl just stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Those same eyes turned to look at her laptop, located on the desk she sat at earlier. The NCT 127 online fanmeeting being streamed, muted.

Of course Jaemin knew it was NCT 127’s 5th anniversary, he knew it must’ve affected JiHo in some way, even if she kept insisting she was going to be fine and was happy for the boys. She even said that she wasn’t “part of the group since debut, so it wouldn’t even be my 5th anniversary” and everyone just had to nod and smile.

“Is that a reason to potentially drink yourself to death?” Jaemin poked her side – maybe a bit too harsh – to gain her attention again; she seemed to be zoning out every few seconds. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m tired of keeping things in.” She sneered at him and it was almost as if she didn’t drink anything. She sounded much more coherent than just a minute earlier. “Aren’t you doing just that though? Drinking on your own. Not letting Sihyun noona in? We keep telling you to talk to us, yet all you do is keep things in. The hyungs even took you out to do stuff and get your mind off things yet you get home and do the thing you always do.”

JiHo felt every drop of alcohol leave her system as she heard the somewhat condescending tone in her friend’s voice. “What the fuck? So this is my fault-“ “Kinda, yes! You just sit here feeling sorry for yourself while everyone is worried over you! We’re your friends for a reason JiHo. There are so many people who care for you, just start fucking talking when you feel down like this.”

The blood inside of JiHo’s veins started to boil and at the same time she felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “You think it’s that easy? What am I supposed to say? That I feel upset that I can’t be with 127 now? Okay. Then what about it? Me telling you this won’t change shit!” “At least you should stop lying and stop telling everyone you’re fine when you’re not! Why do you continue keeping things a secret from everyone?” Both JiHo and Jaemin’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. “But I guess you’re good at that anyway.” He added in a mumble.

Once the words registered in JiHo’s mind, the bottle that started to hover towards her lips was quickly forgotten. “What do you mean by that?” Jaemin just shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze away from JiHo. “Jaemin? What do-“ “You were supposed to debut in 2016 with NCT U?” JiHo’s eyes widened and she pushed herself to stand up. “How’d you know-“ “Then they asked you to debut in 127? Also with us… In Dream?” “How do you know?” Was the only thing JiHo could say.

“Does it matter?” Jaemin yelled, standing up as well. “Why do you continue to keep secrets from us? Do you not trust us? Is that why you sit here alone? Drinking and crying alone.” The boy watched as JiHo stood in front of him wordlessly. He could see how his words were affecting her, but he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted to let JiHo know how frustrating things were for him and his friends. He was well aware of how JiHo had her own worries and hardships, but if she never wanted to confide in anyone, then he was allowed to be mad right?

The only sound filling the room was both of their ragged breathing and the occasional shift from one foot to the other. The silence was almost deafening, a ringing shooting up JiHo’s clouded mind making her feel like she was going to lose it any second now. Her friend sending hurtful glares her way didn’t help ease the growing pain either.

“You’re right. I could’ve debuted in 2016, what about it?” JiHo whispered, afraid that her talking too loud would send surges of pain into her brain. “Why did you hide it from us? Why didn’t you say yes back then?” Jaemin interrogated her. “There was no reason to tell you if it didn’t happen. I didn’t debut so telling you I could’ve wouldn’t change a thing. I’m not in Dream, I didn’t debut in U and clearly now, I’m not in 127 either. Jaemin… It doesn’t matter anymore…” JiHo’s voice stayed as calm as possible.

“How long have you known Jaemin?” JiHo spoke up again as Jaemin didn’t say anything. She felt the tension grow exponentially, the pressure on her body and more noticeably her head increasing and bothering her more as well. “I heard it during that last meeting you had with Yebin noona and Mister Lee Soo Man…” JiHo let out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “I guess we’re eavesdropping and keeping secrets from me as well.”

She brought the glass bottle still in her hands to her lips, throwing her head back, to down as much of the liquid as possible. Before she could finish it all in one go, Jaemin gripped the bottle and pulled it away from her. “It’s not the same, JiHo!”

The liquid rushed from between JiHo’s lips, making a wet patch on her grey sweatpants. She could feel her throat and lungs burning as she coughed, caused by the alcohol going down her windpipe instead.

Jaemin watched her with concern painting his features, his hand slowly caressing her back hoping it would ease her violent coughs. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He whispered and JiHo gave him a small nod as her body calmed down.

The two 00 liners stayed like that for a while, with Jaemin’s eyes burning at the back of JiHo’s downturned head. Even after JiHo’s body stopped shaking violently, Jaemin’s concern continued to grow. It was only when he noticed the drops, which only could be tears, fall onto her sweatpants and create even more wet spots, that he decided to step in.

Jaemin’s hand securely gripped JiHo’s shoulder and he pulled her up to face him. A gasp left the boy’s mouth as he watched large tears spill from his friend’s eyes. “Ji…” It proved incredibly difficult to speak when he was faced with a situation he wasn’t ready to deal with. Maybe Jaemin shouldn’t have confronted her the way he did. Maybe acting like everything was fine wouldn’t have caused him to witness JiHo at possibly the worst she has felt.

It became a full minute of Jaemin staring into JiHo’s pain- and tear-filled eyes, feeling like he could drown in them himself, before a loud pained sob brought him to reality. The sudden jolt of JiHo’s body forward made Jaemin act quickly and pulled the girl into his chest. His hand, just as quickly, found its way into JiHo’s slightly tangled hair.

“I’m… sor- so sorry.” JiHo sobbed into his chest, tears soaking through even the thicker material of the boy’s jumper. Jaemin could feel his sweater start to stick against his chest, yet what felt more uncomfortable than the damp piece of clothing was the feeling of JiHo’s body shaking in his hold.

As best as he could, Jaemin tried to soothe JiHo. Almost like taking care of a crying toddler, he swayed the girl from side to side. His lips were pressed against the shell of JiHo’s ear as Jaemin whispered affirmations into her skin. “Don’t apologise... Stop apologising.”

“I’m only bringing the team down-” “Shh JiHo. Stop that.” He told her, as his fingers continued to comb through her hair, slowly and carefully detangling it along the way. JiHo pressed her eyes tighter as even more tears spilled from her cheeks and pushed herself closer into Jaemin’s grasp.

Mouth agape, a sob that was building up in his own chest was threatening to fall from Jaemin’s own lips. “You don’t deserve any of this JiHo, you only deserve the best.” JiHo only shook her head, but didn’t dare to speak again. “You do... You really do.”

The night in the capital of South-Korea was never really that dark. Lights always seemed to find their way past the pulled back blinds of any building that wasn’t directly blocked by another one due to bad city planning. So even during the darkest time of day, even when all the lights inside have been dimmed, somehow, it was still light enough to see inside.

So when Jaemin pulled back to look at JiHo’s face, her eyes still tightly pressed shut - which pained him immensely - Jaemin could see the light reflecting off of her wet cheeks.

Feeling two hands being placed on her burning cheeks, JiHo finally decided to open her eyes again. A few more tears rolled over her cheeks onto Jaemin’s thumbs, but luckily no new ones seemed to form. “I’m sorry for everything, all this drama. It’s my fault.” Jaemin shook his head and pulled the girl back, this time to hide his own tears that were starting to form. “Please stop apologising, it’s not your fault.”

“But-” JiHo sighed, her arms found their way around Jaemin’s small waist. “I hate that it’s always about me. I don’t want to be this cliche ‘emotional girl with so many problems and everyone has to pay attention to her problems’. I don’t want that. I don’t want to burden you guys with that, but I also don’t want that kind of attention. I know people already hate me for being in a boy’s group. I don’t want my stupid problems to be the only thing that people assiociate me with NCT.”

“Your problems are not stupid JiHo. And though I understand what you’re saying, I think it’s worse to keep it in. If anything, keeping it in just makes us worry about you more and may get you more attention. JiHo I know things suck right now, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling with everything going on right now, but… Please just talk to us when things are bothering you. We all love you.”

At those last words JiHo loudly sniffled back some stray tears. She pressed herself into Jaemin’s warm embrace and softly nodded her head. “From now on I will. I promise. And…” JiHo looked up at Jaemin, sending him a small smile that he gratefully reciprocated. “I love you guys too. You’re all I have here and that’s enough to make me stay.”

Jaemin’s hand resumed with his previous ministrations. A deep sigh left his lips as he rested his head atop of JiHo’s. “Everything will be just fine.” Jaemin pressed a kiss against JiHo’s hair. “As long as we stay together everything will be just fine.”

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #nct angst #nct jaemin angst #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct female addition #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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misselko · 3 years ago

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Got this idea from Dimitri’s conversation with Byleth before Fort Merceus battle with the Death Knight. Put some angst, fluff, and a pinch of smut spices into the dish and let it simmer down! At least, that’s what I want! But it turned out... different ;) Sorry not sorry

This one took me some days to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please feel free to give me some advice and ideas for my next fic! Your warm comments will be cherished very much 💕 Thankies!!

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, smut

Words: 3316

POST TIMESKIP

Empire will be the only remaining enemy and to move on to the Imperial Capital, Enbarr, capturing Fort Merceus is a must. Praised as the strongest defense with its fortified military installation in the Empire, seizing it won’t be an easy feat.

Liberating Arianrhod, calming down Holy Kingdom of Faerghus political issues, winning over the Leicester Alliance and gained their support. Getting a lead on Lady Rhea’s location. Although things were a rough go, but thinking back on it now, Blue Lions sure has really come a long way. Things have been wonderful in these past moons that it almost feels like dream too good to be true.

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

“Whoaa!! You’re getting pretty chummy, aren’t you, Your Highness? Go get a room!” Sylvain winks and got punched HARD, dragged away by Ingrid. You make mental notes on giving her a delicious roasted meat from that famous new shop in the town later as your gratitude. Serves him right!! ...But you wouldn’t trade them for anything in this world. Everything will be alright with them. Blue Lions are your precious family. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

---

Capturing Fort Merceus is a daunting task. Endless enemies are approaching and relentless. Felix and Sylvain are working together cut through the snipers and mages. Ingrid and Ashe are doing their best to handle the pegasi knights. Dedue, Annette, Mercedes, and Flayn makes great combo on cutting through enemy reinforcements while providing healing to everyone. Slowly but sure, you and Dimitri managed to push Death Knight on the corner. But it doesn’t make things less difficult for both of you.

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

The beginning of it was barely a bellow that grew steadily to a deafening roar, piercing the air and shaking the ground. Areadbhar crack in deafening clash against Death Knight’s Scythe of Sariel. They raised their weapons, waving them overhead.

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

Dimitri decides to face Death Knight head on as you tried your best to keep his back safe from the Imperial soldiers assaults. Keeping a close eye on him... just in case, following from a few meters back, cover his blind spots that way, look out for any potential danger. You could see them coming around, carefully and quietly trying to find their way to Dimitri.

Landing sharp blows, you bring the blade down on the head of another mage. Slashing your way through numerous enemies, you start to feel fatigued. Countless enemies lying dead behind. You looked around, among the sea of red and black, a swordmaster is sneaking his way behind Dimitri, ready to ambush him.

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

You were fully offensive, rapidly swinging your sword down on the swordmaster. You were able to deflect, parry, and block most of his attacks until his foot swept across your ankles, knocking you hard to the floor. The swordmaster stood above you, ready to press his sword into your chest to end your life. Fatigue made it harder for you to evade his deadly stab completely. Sound of a weapon piercing through flesh filled your ears, followed by an intense pain in your side. He pulled it back out with a triumphant smirk on his face. Despite the searing pain, you made it in time to grab your own weapon and thrust it up to his neck, your arms shaking as you tried to counter the weight of his attack. Grimace crossing your face as he fell, blood painting the earth a sick shade of red.

You sat up, wincing at the searing, burning hot pain on your side. The stab wound was way too deep. Your hands trembled, desperately attempting to put pressure on the wound as heavy flow of your blood is trickling through your fingers, colors your skin and clothes. The world had turned blurry, and your body felt weak. Ignoring the excruciating pain, you rush forward to help Dimitri. He has won against the Death Knight. But in his brief reverie, the Tempest King failed to notice two opposing snipers are approaching him, expression intent to kill, aiming their arrows at his back.

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

You thought to yourself, launching forward. You barely has energy to stand up, but you tried to muster your last remaining strength to dove in before Dimitri. The arrows managed to easily make it’s way through your armor, landing in your chest and abdomen. ‘I have no regret when it came to protecting Dimitri.’

Your body slammed hard on the ground, careening across the battlefield. A sharp cry pained noise escaped you; that was all it took. Dimitri stiffened at the sound. It pulled him from the high of the battlefield down to reality in an instant.

“(Y/N)!!!”

He turned; filled with horror and rage. The fires blazing around him didn’t give off any heat. The battlefield around him turned black and white. His ears were ringing as if he’d been caught in an explosion. Dimitri went after the snipers and thrust them both at their hearts. After a quick glance to make sure no more surprise attacks happen, he kneels and pulling you into his chest. You looked so small, felt so limp that it sickened him. Broken and battered with littered scars and large wound on your side. Arrows jutting out of your chest, much too close to the heart, and another one lodged deep in your abdomen.

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me right now,” his voice choked off in his throat feels raw with emotions, barely able to hold back the sob which demands to escape, “not when you are like this. What were you thinking, (Y/N)? You have promised me to not be reckless.” He phrased it in a question, but both know why.

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

You opened your mouth to speak but immediately coughed, feeling globs of blood on the corners of your lips. Dimitri gripped your hand, his hold so tight that it hurt, but you wouldn’t waste your breath on telling him. You could barely see Mercedes scurried over to your side as quickly as she could, Flayn follows behind her, leaving the Death Knight behind with tears running down her cheeks.

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

The days turned to one week, then two...then three. The physical wounds had healed, mostly repaired and faded to scars. There was potential for things to return to normal, and you may wake up sooner rather than later.

When you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in a dimly lit room, your upper body covered in bandages. The first thing you’re aware of is a dull throb radiating throughout your entire body. You were confused, and moved your head, unintentionally shifting your body and sending a wave of pain through your chest and stomach as you tried to get up. You closed your eyes tightly in response to the return of extreme pain, much worse than you had ever felt before. With much struggle, you sat on the edge of the bed shakily trying to stand up. The door creaked open and you looked up to find Dimitri peering inside.

”You’re awake,” he said, a look of surprise on his face. You tried to stand up and walk to him but failed, Dimitri ran in and caught you before you fell over. “I thought I was going to lose you, (Y/N),” he said, lifting you up effortlessly, settling you gently onto the bed and pulled up a chair.

As cautiously as you could, you managed to sit yourself up. You kept a careful eye on the young king, noting how dark the circles under his eyes have become and how hollow his cheeks have turned. The fact that rest had eluded him for however long you were unconscious was as plain as day.

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

His head shot up to look at you, cerulean blue eyes dampened by tears that pooled in them. Your eyes were open, though weakly, looking at him and his disturbed state. You sensed his worry, but also his relief as he hovers next to your bed, engulfing you in his embrace and squeezing you against his chest for all he was worth. He was mindful of your wound, but that wasn’t enough to keep him away. No, he needed you. He needed to be beside you, to feel you, to know you were there.

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

You felt how hard and rapid his heart was beating, almost deafening. Your arms wrapped around his heaving back weakly, rubbing it soothingly. He pulled you closer in response—closer, closer, closer, until every inch of you was smothered by him. Hesitant, trembling fingers graced your tightly wound bandages and you felt something warm and wet splatter onto your exposed shoulder.

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

His voice was as quiet as it could be and it made you frown your eyebrows in worry. You were happy to see him alive, that was your goal when you decided to protect him from the approaching enemies. However, seeing him so distraught and afraid twisted your insides uncomfortably. The way he held your hand so desperately, afraid to let go.

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

You move your hand to his cheeks, caressing his soft skin, trying to bring him even the tiniest amount of comfort. Leaning to give him a soft chaste kiss on his lips. He reciprocated by open-mouthed kiss you with such fervor. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the way Dimitri kisses you, as if this is the last moment he’ll ever feel it. It’s almost as if it pains him to be this close to you. You were alive, yet he couldn’t help but doubt it. Perhaps it was once again due to the vicious noises he still heard, though faintly. However, he was glad that they allowed him this moment of happiness.

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

“We are so close to ending this. Please, promise me you’ll stay safe. Rest, for now, my beloved.” Leaning down, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, holding your hand to his chest. “I promise, I will never let you be hurt for my sake again.” Covering you with a blanket and tucking you into bed to retire for the evening.

---

After your awakening, the Blue Lions and Professor began incorporating regular infirmary visits into their schedule. They showered you with kind, encouraging words and occasionally bore small gifts (flowers and snacks), always encourage you to get better soon. But your most frequent visitor of all was your beloved gentle king.

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

The healer moved closer to you, her skilled hands undoing the set of bandages for the last time. Dimitri averted his frantic eyes to the wall when the dressing loosened just enough for your breasts to peak through. A cold, unforgiving breeze whipped the newly exposed skin, jolting a shiver down your spine. Mercedes sighed, slowly traced the scars your chest and stomach.

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“All right, then. Annette said that she needs my help with her baking this evening. We have to finish it before midnight! Should you need anything, please feel free to call me.” Mercedes gave you last smile before excusing herself politely from your quarter.

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

“I will never regret nor blame you for this. It was my decision and if it means saving you, I’ll gladly do it again in a heartbeat. Or... perhaps.... I can understand if you find that my... scars are disgusting, appalling, even....” you whisper softly, almost inaudible. Your surroundings whizzed right past you before you were unceremoniously slammed into your bed.

“DON’T SAY SUCH THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF!!” He growled “I will not allow you to throw your life away for me. If.. If something ever happen to you.. I’ll live a life worse than death itself, (Y/N).”

Not a moment later did you feel something warm and soft press against your lips. His mouth moved awkwardly yet full of affection. Hands planted on either side of your body, ridding any hope of escape from his ravishing kisses. Dimitri pressed his lips further into yours, swallowing your moans. His lips left yours to trail down around your neck, breasts, and stomach lovingly. “This wounds... I cannot lose you again, my beloved.” His body quivered. The King kissing the scars on your cleavage and abdomen, worshiping them reverently with tender touches, almost like touching a porcelain doll. Afraid to break you with his almost inhuman power. Biting and sucking wherever his heart desired until you were covered in nothing but love bites, leaving you a panting mess.

Dimitri held you in his arms, stroking your hair and mumbling whispers of ‘I’m sorry’. Bittersweet smile formed on his lips. He gazed at you, eyes lidded with desires and need, mixed with guilt and love. “(Y/N)... My beloved...” You pulled away slightly to look up at him and smiled.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

He blushed at your words, then it dawned on his realization. Suddenly becoming very aware of the... intimate position you were in. “Um, w-well...” As he came to his full senses he released his hands from you, as though from fire and stuttered, quickly pulling away from your panting form. He wasn’t making eye contact anymore, and you followed his gaze downwards on your body. Oh. Without the dreamlike stupor a d hazy feeling to distract you, you realized just how naked you are. Nightgown pooled beneath your waist. Feeling an onset of bashfulness, you also brought an arm up to cover as much of your chest as you could; despite what you had just done with him, the reality of the situation was catching up to you.

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ah—Urghh!!! I’m sorry, (Y/N)!! I don’t know what came over me but.. but... P-Perhaps we should... stop... before it escalates any further...” The King unclasped his furred cloak hurriedly and put it over your naked body unceremoniously, hiding his flushed crimson face in his hands again, absolutely brutalized with shame.

“Er.. Be certain to rest for now. We may have undone some of your healing.” Then he said hurriedly, almost inaudibly. “When your strength returns to its fullest, we can pick up where we left off. I promise.”

“Fine...” You giggled, finding his attempt at being serious too adorable. The heat and passion was still very visible in his eyes, and it was obvious that anymore teasing on your end would send him over the edge.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor king desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

“Good night, my beloved (Y/N).” Casting one last glance at you and bashfully looking down when he caught your eye, the Blue Lions Leader left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, somehow managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, locking his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his burning red face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of (Y/N). All he could think about was your pure unadultered love, beautiful (E/C) that is gazing at him affectionately. Goddess, he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on you. All over you. Repeatedly. Savoring the taste of your lips as you moan into his mouth. Feeling your warmth and love. Unclothed. His mind is running wild. This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. It will be another sleepless night for the poor king. And it’s all because of you.

#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem three houses #dimitri fluff #fe dimitri x reader #dimitri smut #sfw #fluff #smut #dimitri angst

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years ago

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Better Together Chapter 5

Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Comments are always welcome. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My works are not to be posted anywhere.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: violence, panic, swearing probably.

Chapter 4

Chapter Five

Leaves whip across your face, scratching the bruised skin of your cheek.

Dirt shifts under your feet.

Your fingers slip on Poe’s shirt and you struggle to regain your grasp.

Panting echoes in your ear, mirroring your erratic, pounding heartbeat.

Roots seem to stretch out of the ground, determined to trip you.

You can’t see more than a foot in front of you.

You stumble, crashing to your knees.

Poe’s grunt is muted, soft, as he lands next to you. Your entire torso feels like it’s on fire.

You want to stay down, to just give up.

But you can’t.

Not yet.

The river is ahead of you. You can hear it.

You start again, ignoring the burning in your muscles.

The trip back is impossible. Too long. Too far. Your urgency makes you clumsy. Your injuries make you weak.

Blaster fire snaps and crackles over your head and you yelp, ducking out of reflex. Poe shoots over your shoulder and you hear the grunt as one of your pursuers goes down.

You have to outsmart them, lose them before they can follow you to your ship. Everything will have been for nothing if that happens.

It takes more time than you can afford, but finally you can board. You guide Poe to the built in sofa and run to the cockpit, getting ready for take off.

Your hands are shaking.

You can’t breathe.

Your vision is doubling.

It’s blurry.

You smash the buttons, definitely not being careful. The engine rumbles after too long of being dormant. You push the throttle to full blast, not caring if you burned down the entire forest.

Fuck this planet.

You plot a random course, jumping to hyperspace the second you can. You run back to Poe, grabbing the cart of medical supplies. You don’t care about your own wounds, only focused on him.

“They probably,” he starts and you nod, jabbing him with a bacta shot.

“I know. I’m taking precautions.” You mutter, avoiding his face. You can’t look at him. Not now. Not after everything.

“Hey, do you think,” he starts and you clench your jaw together as you wrap his bleeding leg as best you can. “Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now because she misses me so much?” He asks, hissing quietly.

“Yes.” You reply, tying it tight.

“It’s worse than I feared.” He continues and you push yourself up, heading back for the cockpit, not waiting to hear what’s worse.

You take your natural seat, the co-pilot’s chair and take the wheel. Your hands are scraped and bloody from falling, among who knows what else. The secret stitches all over your body pull uncomfortably, you’ve probably ripped them open. They were crude to begin with.

You can’t just sit here. You have to look for tracking beacons. You force yourself to stand and head back through the cabin, avoiding Poe, even though you can feel his dark eyes on you.

You don’t blame him for hating you. He’s in this mess because of you.

You search the entire ship, maintaining your isolation until you drop out of hyperspace. There’s no tracker inside. There’s a decent chance that the ship was never found in the first place. But you have to be sure.

You head back to the cabin and guide the ship to an asteroid, landing on the dark side. You don’t notice the bloody hand prints you’ve left everywhere, mind too wild and overwhelmed with panic.

“Y/N.” Poe starts and you ignore him, grabbing the oxygen mask and lowering the ramp. It’s cold outside the ship, cold enough to turn your fingers blue.

Good. Maybe they’ll freeze and fall off, and then you can’t hurt anyone else.

You climb all over the outside of the ship, checking in absolutely every little space that could hide something like that, but there’s nothing.

Still…

Hesitation eats at you.

You take a minute outside, hiding like a fucking coward, before going back in and starting the engines once more.

“Find anything?” Poe asks from behind you. You jump, smacking your hand on the hyper speed lever as you try to turn.

“Damn it.” You curse quietly, holding your throbbing hand to your midsection. “Go lay down. I’ve got this.” You tell him, turning back around, trying to get your heart to calm the hell down.

“Y/N,” he starts, but you can’t take the look in his eyes, the ones filled with regret.

“Go. I didn’t find anything.” You say shortly and he eases himself into the pilot’s chair-his seat.

He looks over the console, reading all the flashing lights as easily as a second language. “But you’re still light speed skipping?” He frowns, turning to look at you.

You don’t try to make him understand. How can you? Your last gut instinct turned out so bad, he can’t possibly trust you again.

“Safety precaution.” You mumble, flipping some more switches.

He studies you for a minute, the silence dragging on and you want to scream at him to stop, to go away. But you don’t. And the silence drags on.

“Alright.” He says finally. “But you’ll need my help.” He finishes and you squeeze your eyes shut before nodding. You start the flight sequence, your broken heart doing little twists in your chest. You don’t know if this is going to work, or if there’s even a need for it. But you’ve committed now, you have to follow through.

The ship lifts and you hover before punching it to hyperspace. Radar is still clear as you course correct around crazy land masses. Spires of solid rock shoot straight into the sky as you maneuver. Poe’s grip is tight on the wheel, he’s nervous. He doesn’t trust you.

And just as well.

But the realization still hurts. Your best friend has lost all faith in you.

You flip the next switch, lining up the next location and Poe initiates, sending you back into the seat with a painful grunt. He glances at you, but you won’t show weakness, not when he was nothing but strong for you. You can hide this.

Water reflects a brilliantly lit sky, two suns reflect off a glittering lake, almost blinding you as you rocket towards the tree line in the distance. Radar is still clear.

Again, another planet where you’re steering for your life, praying to the Maker that you don’t crash.

Another, and then just one more.

Poe is silent through the whole thing. Realizing you were wrong, you were never being followed, you cheeks heat with shame as you plot the course for home.

“Go clean your hands, I’ve got it from here.” He says finally.

Carefully, painfully, you peel your hands off. The skin, sticky with blood and cuts adheres to the wheel, pinching and pulling as you lift them. Fresh blood rushes to the surface and you hurry from the cockpit to the refresher.

You turn on the water and scrub your hands, removing more skin than you’re cleaning, doing just as much harm as good. Your reflection taunts you in the mirror, staring at you, blaming you. Wildly, you fling it open, exposing the cabinet behind with all of Poe’s things; medicine, shaving supplies. The tightness grows in your throat and you drop your gaze, scrubbing harder, as if that could make everything go away.

Your nose burns and your eyes blur and you sniffle. Maker, you’re fucking crying while Poe is in there, flying the entire ship by himself while he’s injured and you’re in here, crying like a little fucking girl because you feel guilty.

The ship drops out of hyperspace and you crash back into the wall, head smacking the corner of the shower stall. Pain flares down your neck as you struggle to regain your balance.

Poe’s voice comes on the speaker. “Sorry about that. Had to drop out early. Making our descent now.” He tells you.

“Do…” you cut off, your voice rough, and so fucking weak. “D-do you need help?” You manage and the silence drags on.

“No.” Comes the short reply.

You want to wail, to cry. To tell him how fucking sorry you are! You’re sorry for the kiss, and for getting him caught— but he won’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses and bumbling.

You slide to the floor, knees pressed tight against your chest as you try to breathe, try to steady yourself. The tight space helps, and acts as a compression unit. But it’s not enough. Not after everything you’ve done.

You can feel when the ship makes landfall and panic rises in your chest, sheer, blinding panic. The engines cut off and you hope Poe walks right off the ship to get looked at. Your ribs ache with the effort of holding everything in, of being silent.

And then a short knock on the door jolts you. “We’re here, Y/N. We’re home. Open the door.” He says, there’s something strange in his voice and for a moment your heart stutters in your chest. How sure are you that what you brought with you is actually your Poe? Does the First Order have capabilities on this level?

“You go ahead. I’ll b-be out in a minute.” You call and he sighs.

“Open the door.” He repeats.

“Poe, I-... I just need a minute. Please? Go get yourself taken care of.” You plead.

“You have to get looked at, too.” He reminds you.

“I know. I will.” You promise. Just not anywhere he can see you. There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence before you hear him turn and limp away.

You can hear him speaking at the bottom of the ramp, but then there’s a commotion and he’s shouting. Your name is mixed in and you scramble back from the door, already trapped, nowhere to go. Poe’s shouting gets louder, more frantic and tears finally escape as you shove yourself into the shower, twisting to hide. Clearly, this isn’t the resistance you left, the First Order got here before you, tricked Poe into landing. Now they’re going to finish what they started.

The door to the stall is pushed back, revealing a face you thought you recognized, but maybe your mind is playing tricks on you again. Blood loss is making you disoriented.

“Hey, Y/N, glad you’re back.” They say with a smile that seems to warp into something wicked. “Got something for ya, gonna make you feel real good.” He says, already reaching for you.

“No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch m—“ you thrust your arm out to fend him off, but he jabs a huge needle into the crook of your elbow and you cry out as it pinches. “No,” you croak, already feeling weaker. Your knees no longer support you and you slump, falling right into their open arms.

“Get a table.” He barks over your head and you try to struggle. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s okay. You’re home now.” He promises, scooping you up and setting you gently on a flat surface. Foggy memories try to claw through the sedative, trying to warn you.

You try to roll off the table, you need to escape, you need to make sure Poe is safe. This is all your fault.

“Whoa, whoa. Easy, Y/N.” He says, catching your wrists and securing them to the table. You try to scream, looking around frantically. Faces are blurry, dissolving as the sedative claims you. You can hear Poe shouting your name as he tries to reach you. People are holding him back, stopping him from taking your hand.

“Give her another dose, she’s fighting it.” The man above you says. The last thing you see before everything goes dark is Poe, fighting to get to you.

***

The hike to their base is long. It takes about half a day for them to march you back there. Made worse by the fact that your arms are bound so tightly behind your back that you’re losing feeling.

Poe keeps looking at you to make sure you’re okay, but other than that, he won’t talk to you. You want to tell him you’re sorry for getting him caught, for kissing him and distracting him. And the way he won’t talk to you, the way he keeps cutting off your sentences tells you that he blames you, too.

The troopers are content to watch you trip and fall, laughing as they drag you to your feet again. Sometimes they’ll even purposely trip you just to watch you struggle.

One time in particular, if you had just fallen where their boot caught your ankle, you would have been fine. But you try to right yourself, stumbling forward awkwardly for a few steps before falling and bouncing your head off a rock. Your name manages to hiss through Poe’s clenched jaw, but other than that, nothing. You’re hauled unceremoniously to your feet and shoved forward, but you can feel blood trickling down your face.

They finally lead you into their base, sore and bruised, dragging you through the sterile halls until shoving you both into a room.

It’s a dark room, red lights dotting the walls sporadically. In the middle, two upright restraining tables facing each other.

Just like in your dream.

Chapter 6

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creativeashproductions · 4 years ago

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We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge.

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date.

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection.

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door.

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket.

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room.

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work.

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend.

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses.

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger.

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @thesweetestsinner @merceret @imsydneywalker @sunsetcurvej @nicoledawson5604

#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #luke patterson imagines #jatp fanfic #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions #CherryValentinesFic

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rowan-underthehouse · 4 years ago

Text

Riverbank

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Word Count: 1,486

Additional Tags: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Summary:

After his encounter with Zachariah, Dean is on his way to team back up with Sam, but he’s not quite ready to let go of the relief of hunting with Cas. At least, not without one last night to enjoy himself.

Read it on Ao3 here

Dean is drunk. Not piano-man-at-the-karaoke-bar drunk, but warm, fuzzy, anything-is-possible, still-mostly-functional drunk. Maybe that’s what tugs him toward the river, dropping his jacket and overshirt in a heap as he goes and stretching up toward the moonlight.

“There’s nothing here, Cas, not even an urban legend,” he calls back to the car where Cas stands, stoic and awkward as always. “Come on, man, I’m baking out here.”

Castiel, for his part, seems unbothered by the heat that’s making Dean wish he could crawl into an industrial freezer for a few hours. He squints at Dean, his clothes in the grass, and the river behind him, apparently realizing his intentions.

Dean assumes angels can swim. Maybe the wings help. Like a duck or a pigeon or something. His brain is too blurry to care.

“Dean…There isn’t time for this. God is still nowhere to be-”

He doesn't fully realize he's moving back toward Cas until he has an arm loosely slung around the angel’s shoulder, urging him toward the water.

“World’s ending. May as well bang a few gongs on the way out. Think you're onto something there.”

“I’ve never said that”

Dean pats him on the chest, letting his hand linger a few seconds too long as he swings around to face him. He slides his hands back to shuck the overcoat from Cas’ shoulders, watching with a muted smirk as it hits the ground.

“You will. In a few years.”

“Dean, what did Zachariah show-”

“It doesn't matter. It hasn't changed anything,” Dean cuts him off again, nudging the suit jacket from his shoulders. “Now, come on.”

Of course Cas knows he’s lying. It’s changed everything. Even though his plan to say no to Michael is still concrete, it all feels different now. Palpable. Unavoidable. It’ll eat Dean up if he lets it.

Dean’s focused on undoing that familiar old blue tie when he feels Cas’ gaze searching his face. For a split second, he wonders if he’s gone too far; taken the threads of friendship that are only just starting to come together and pulled until they snapped. That’s when Cas meets his eyes.

He’s grinning.

Castiel is honest-to-god grinning.

He’s got one of those smiles that takes up his whole face, making his eyes all squinty and digging itself into Dean’s heart to root there. It’s fucking contagious.

“What?” Dean feels a smile start to tug at the corners of his own lips.

“It’s good to see you like this, Dean. Unrestrained.” Cas pulls his tie the rest of the way off in a single fluid motion that drops Dean’s stomach right out of his body. It’s not an unpleasent feeling, and certainly not new when it comes to Cas and his fucking cosmic powers, but it’s harder to ignore now.

“That would be the booze.”

“No.” There’s that grin again. “It isn’t.”

“I’m doing something for me for once. Not worrying about Sam. Gonna enjoy that as long as I can.”

It’s not the truth, not the whole truth, anyway. Neither of them push the subject.

Dean gives himself to the count of three to memorize the scene in front of him. Cas, relaxed and happy in the heavy evening air, a fair few paces south from sober himself. Maybe in another life every night would look like this. It’s not worth dwelling on.

“Come on. Get in.” Dean kicks off his boots and unceremoniously drops into the water. Cas isn’t far behind, looking uncharacteristically peaceful as the water soaks into his slacks. A very intentionally aimed splash hits the front of his shirt, and Dean flashes him a mischievous little smirk, flopping backward into the water.

It’s fucking frigid, much colder than should be possible given the fry-an-egg-on-the-asphalt kind of heat just above the surface. It rushes in Dean’s ears, pounds in his heart, crushing and uncontrolled, but hell if he doesn't feel alive. He comes up for air 50 feet down the river, where the current slows just enough for him to find purchase on the rocks below, beaming as water pours off the tips of his fingers. He lets out a whoop into the night air.

“You coming?” he yells, not knowing if his voice carried far enough until Cas’ shoulders drop below the water.

He's more restrained than Dean was, his shock of black hair never dipping completely below the water, watching the trees whip past him. Dean has to catch him by the arm to keep him from missing the shallow part entirely.

As soon as Cas gets his footing, Dean is lost. There's something about the way Cas shoves his wet hair out of his eyes, the way his now untucked shirt billows around him in the water, it's so irrevocably human, and somehow everything but.

Dean stumbles forward, flinging his arms around Cas’ neck. He's planning to make some dumb joke, he really is, but Cas is panting, his eyes almost glowing in the moonlight, and damn, it makes Dean a little weak at the knees. The joke dies on his tongue.

He's high on the air passing between them. Downright fucking giddy. Dean presses forward, closing the gap until it's not much more than a hair's breadth.

“You’re….you’re really something, Cas.”

One hand comes up to play with the dripping collar of Cas’ shirt, and he leans into it like he’s desperate. It might just be the most powerful Dean has ever felt, this tiny moment waist deep in a river.

All he’d have to do is lose his balance, give an inch to the pull of the current and his body would be against Castiel’s. He wouldn’t even have to take the leap himself. Instead, Dean’s fingers ghost along Cas’ collarbone, the side of his neck, coming to rest against the sharp curve of his jaw. It sends a full body shiver through Cas.

Dean meets his eyes, searching for some kind of clue, a hint about what the hell is happening. It’s clear as the water rushing around their legs.

He tries to tether down his racing heart and settles his other hand on Cas’ hip. Dean feels Cas’ calloused hands moving to his waist before he sees them, sparks of electricity flying across his ribcage. He loses his focus, digging his thumb into Cas’s hip so hard it’ll definitely leave a bruise. Cas doesn’t flinch, his eyes flicking to Dean’s lips.

“Cas-“

The phone in Dean’s jacket pocket rings, the sound of it somehow floating above the current. The half-minute before it goes to voicemail passes agonizingly slow. Once his eyes leave Cas’, Dean finds he can’t force them back again. He feels his cheeks flush a deep, embarrassed, red.

The phone rings again.

Dean lets it go to voicemail.

It rings again.

“Bobby… dammit.” Dean wades to the edge of the river and hauls himself onto the bank, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He’s only distantly aware of his own conversation, of his vague explanation about Zachariah and the plan to meet up with Sam in the morning. He’s pretty sure he agrees to start looking into a hunt early the next morning, a way for him and Sam to get back in the saddle. He only half listens to what it is. Bobby will email the articles if it’s important enough for three phone calls. His eyes flick back to Cas over and over, still waist deep in the water, looking more awkward by the second.

“Are you listening to a word I’ve said?” Bobby’s voice comes through the receiver, startling Dean out of his fog.

“Yeah, uh, I’ll call you right back.”

Cas has pulled himself to shore by the time the call disconnects, gaze lost in the stars. Dean can’t help but wonder how intimately he knows each one. If he was there when they were formed.

It’s easy to forget sometimes, looking at him in his dirty overcoat, exactly what Castiel is: ancient, powerful, unknowable. It hits Dean all at once like a brick straight to the chest. Whatever this thing between them is, whatever he thought Cas was feeling, it was just a trick of the moonlight. Moonlight does that. It plays tricks on people. And Dean isn’t about to be played for a fool. No angel of the lord would waste their time on some burnt out, used up, hunter. As soon as they sort all this apocalypse crap out, Cas will leave, just like everyone else. Dean is sure of it.

Cas offers Dean a small smile, waiting for him to come forward.

Dean hesitates.

He knows the moment Cas notices, his face shifting to shame. “I should go. I have work to do.”

“Cas wait-“

He’s gone before Dean can take another step, and Dean is left alone, with nothing but the rushing river and the tiny hope that whatever happened between them wasn’t all in his head.

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tiramisiyu · 4 years ago

Text

【恋与制作人】MLQC: 【高级试验品】Kiro’s Top Experimental Subject R&S Translation

Behind the black iron door, children identified with numbers are distorted by despair. He is the only person who soundlessly pursues the sunlight.

Translation Masterlist: here

See under the cut!

In a night as cool as water, moonlight passed through the small, narrow window and spilled in, shining on half the bed beside the window and the face of the sound-asleep boy on the bed.

The boy was very young, wore ragged pajamas, and held a worn-out teddy bear, curling up into a tiny ball on the bed.

He slept very fitfully, his little hands anxiously clutching at the corners of the blanket in a struggling manner. On his arms, there was a faint string of bruises, and his eyelashes were damp – whatever it was that he had dreamed of, it was unknown.

No one knew what he was called, and no one knew where he came from. He was just one of the many children of the orphanage. He lived with the other children on the beds placed in the large room that numbered over ten.

His number was 1562.

With a “pa”, the room’s window was blown open by a fierce wind! Startled awake from the dream, 1562 ran to the window while wrapped in a blanket, using his thin arms to strenuously close the window, blocking the snowstorm outside. It was hard to endure winters at the orphanage, and frostbite had sprung up on his hands long ago, itchy and painful.

The sound of the closing window startled awake several children. They looked dazedly at 1562, then laid down to continue sleeping.

1562 no longer intended to sleep. He stood barefoot in front of the window, the ice-cold marble floors inciting stabbing pains on his soles. He suddenly thought of something, walked up to his friend on the neighbouring bed, searching for signs of breathing in an experienced manner.

There was not a single sliver of warmth in the places that his fingers swept over.

1562 did not scream, nor did he feel sorrowful. He just sat beside his friend’s bed, quietly holding his stiff, frigid fingers. In their impatience, some children asked, “Little kid, what are you doing if you’re not sleeping in the middle of the night!”

1562 did not speak. He leaned over, holding his already-stiff friend, his moist and cold little face carefully nestled against his friend’s face.

Some older children noticed something about the situation and walked up to the front of the desk, felt the dead child’s body, then turned around and shouted, “Hey, he’s dead!”

No one in the room was surprised – dying in this orphanage was as normal as it got. Several children ran over, snatching the things that the dead person had left behind.

1562 clutched tightly on his friend’s blanket, refusing to let go. However, in the end, he was shoved on the ground because his strength was too little. He collided so hard that he couldn’t get up for a good while.

The older kids glanced at 1562, speaking without the slightest bit of pity, “He’s dead and won’t be cold anymore. If we don’t take it away, the childcare employee will collect it anyways.” With contempt, they called him “a mute person who can’t speak”.

The door suddenly opened! Holding a flashlight, the night patroller walked in, his face ferocious – “Not sleeping in the middle of the night – what’s all the racket for!”

The children speedily climbed onto their beds and laid down. 1562’s reaction was slow, as he had just gotten up from the ground, the skin on his head split open. Fresh blood smeared from the wound all over. The night patroller looked disgustedly at 1562: “You again? Do you want to stay in a solitary room?”

1562 fervently shook his head, anxiously shrinking into a ball. Going to a solitary room was the most frightening punishment in this orphanage. Only children who had gone insane would get locked in the solitary room. 1562 once had personally seen how those children were bound by leather straps to the bed, struggling while shouting miserably.

The night patroller harrumphed, no longer pressing this skinny little kid.

The sound of miserable shouts sounded faintly outside the door. The night patroller waved the flashlight in his hand and said, “Did you hear that? Whoever doesn’t listen will have the same end as him.”

“Yes, sir.”

The night patroller swept his gaze over the room imposingly, then left in satisfaction.

Suddenly, the whole room began to shake, immediately followed by a series of violent explosion sounds!

The children covered their ears, screaming and jumping off their beds. A female childcare worker ran over hurriedly, grabbed the night patroller, and anxiously said, “Mr. Zhang, something happened to Number 3684! Hurry and come with me to look.”

“Dammit!” The night patroller cursed under his breath, and followed the care worker, running towards the explosions. The room’s temporary peace was restored. Right then, a crunch sounded at the room’s door. On alert, 1562 looked towards the door, noticing that the night patroller had forgotten to lock the door when he left.

The other children in the room didn’t notice this, immersed as they were in exhaustion and the fear from having just been threatened. 1562 slid off the bed, quietly opened the door, and snuck out.

1562 wanted to leave this place. Holding the teddy bear, he sprinted down the empty corridor barefoot. The corridors of the orphanage were both dark and long, and the ground was damp and frigid. The faraway darkness seemed demonic, as if it could swallow up this skinny, little child any time.

He didn’t know how to leave, and he didn’t know if there was an end to this long, long corridor. He just wanted to leave this hopeless place and see the world outside – even one second was enough.

The miserable shouts coming from the rooms on both sides of the hallways frequently startled him terribly.

The orphanage director told them that only insane children possessed by demons lived in the solitary rooms. They would bite people and transmit illnesses. Touching them would be a one-way trip to death.

1562 knew that the orphanage director wasn’t telling the truth.

Every week, they would be injected by the orphanage’s drugs. Some children would be completely normal after injection; some children’s bodies would gradually weaken; some children would lose all sense of reason and go crazy; and some children would start to have uncontrollable powers – such as that child from now, shouting while creating explosions.

1562 ran while thinking. Suddenly, clear footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor.

The corridor was completely empty – there was not a single thing that could hide him. Fearful and not knowing what to do, 1562 immediately opened the doors on either side! He tried one after another, but not a single one could be opened.

Hearing the sounds of footsteps walk closer and closer, 1562 closed his eyes shut, despairingly giving the last door a push.

The door actually opened.

1562 had no time to hesitate. In a flash, he hid into the room and locked the door, listening to the movements outside the door. The sounds of footsteps outside grew gradually further away. 1562 released a long breath – indeed, who would pay attention to the disappearance of a skinny, little boy?

He leaned with his back against the door, suddenly feeling his legs hurt, and couldn’t help collapsing onto the floor. Only then did he have time to look over this room – this was an unfamiliar room.

The room was wide, long, and had its lights on. The smell of formalin permeated the air. Several tens of surgery stands were placed in the room. Only on tiptoes did 1562 see the end of the room.

Suddenly, a slight, panicked voice sounded from not far away – “Who are you?”

1562 was terribly startled, looking left and right in surprise. As he searched for the sound, he noticed a little girl lying on a surgery stand.

The little girl was bound by leather straps on the surgery stand, unable to move, and the back of her hand was filled with bruises. Her complexion was somewhat pallid, and her supple long hair was wet with cold sweat, sticking to her cheeks in locks.

Seeing 1562 walk over the girl squeezed out a big smile – “Hello, were you also brought over by bad people?”

1562 shook his head, thought a bit, then nodded.

He didn’t really remember anything before coming to the orphanage. His memories started at the orphanage’s large, intimidating black iron door, and the blurry side profile of the man who dragged him to the orphanage.

The girl had already started crying:

“I want to leave this place. I have a father. I’m not an orphan.”

At somewhat of a loss, 1562 stuffed his own teddy bear at the little girl, then held out his dirtied little hands to wipe the girl’s tears.

Seeing that the little bear was blackened and dirty, with an eye replaced with a button and a missing ear, she couldn’t help changing from tears to laughter: “How can this be called a bear?”

1562 was a little angry and was going to snatch back the bear without explanation. The girl immediately grabbed 1562’s hand and kindly said, “Don’t take it away. I like it very much.”

It seemed like she had suffered a lot. Her smile was squeezed out while enduring her pain.

Noticing the girl’s discomfort, 1562 worriedly held the girl’s hand. There was cold sweat all over her palm, and the bruised back of her hand was full of needle marks.

“It really hurts… it really hurts…” The little girl moaned quietly: “Hurts… I want to go home… I want dad…”

1562 stared blankly at the girl, not knowing what to do. He was originally going to leave – he had to leave this demonic place as soon as possible, but… he gritted his teeth, made a firm decision, and turned around to start untying the leather straps binding the girl.

Those leather straps were tied extremely tightly. Even when expending the energy of several strong animals, 1562 was still unable to untie them.

“Don’t untie them. You might as well run yourself.” The girl spoke with a trembling voice.

1562 furiously shook his head, gritted his teeth tight, and continued to struggle with the leather straps. His hands were covered in frostbite, and when he applied force, the wounds burst open. The leather straps were speckled all over with blood.

It was a good thing that the great heavens did not turn their backs on one who was resolute. After quite some struggle, 1562 finally freed the girl.

It seemed like the girl had not stood for a while. When she stepped on the ground, her two legs collapsed under her, and she fell on the ground. No matter how hard she tried, she still couldn’t stand. In anxiety, 1562 turned around, wanting to piggyback the girl. Only then did he notice that her whole body was feverish, her eyes were glazed, and her palm was covered in sweat.

Unable to attend to other things, 1562 stubbornly intended to piggyback the girl and escape. He held the teddy bear in his mouth, laboriously hoisting the girl on his back, his legs shaking. He was too thin – as he carried the girl, he couldn’t walk forward a few steps before toppling with the girl on the ground. A pair of leather shoes appeared in front of his eyes.

“1562, you again?!” In anger, the night patroller gritted his teeth. “I must teach you a lesson today.” As he spoke, he drew out the electric baton from his waist, about to jab it towards 1562’s body!

“Mr. Zhang! Please wait a moment!” The care worker held back the night patroller. “Please think about that child that just exploded himself. If we’re one down on the top experimental subjects, we’ll be held accountable. How about we instead…”

The night patroller instantly understood the care worker’s meaning and hesitantly said, “But 1562’s aptitude isn’t good enough. Only typical experiments can be done on him. He can’t participate in top-level experiments.”

The care worker held the night patroller’s hand.

“Mr. Zhang, the experimental products die daily due to experiments. No one will notice. But if, because our regulations were insufficient, word gets out about the child using his power to explode himself, then both of us shouldn’t even think about living well!”

The care worker looked again towards 1562 and spoke.

“This child has autism and won’t reveal this matter.”

The night patroller thought there really was logic to that.

He harrumphed quietly, carried up the thin little 1562 and yanked off the boy’s nametag. He took a new one from out his pocket, pinning it on the boy’s chest.

“Starting from today, you are Number 3684, got it?”

The boy did not respond.

The night patroller raised his voice and asked again, “Remembered it?!”

Holding in his tears, 1562 nodded.

“Very good.” The night patroller looked very satisfied, baring his protruding yellowed teeth, and said, “I pray that you live, 3684.”

The boy was torn away by the night patroller and thrown into the solitary room. The solitary room wasn’t as scary as the boy had thought – it was just that he could hear incessant miserable shouts from both sides, leaving him terror-stricken.

He had just been restrained by the care worker and injected with the same drugs as the previous 3684. He now felt dizzy and lightheaded, his body both sore and in pain.

What would happen to him? Would he also self-explode?

The boy shook his head and no longer pondered about him exploding himself. Instead, he thought about the girl just now. When the care worker held the girl, she said that she was already in terrible condition, so he left the little bear with her, hoping that she could survive this crisis. Could she survive?

She looked so pretty when she smiled, and she had a father who loved her dearly. She was… someone who deserved to live the most.

The boy sat like this from midnight to dawn.

Several days later, the boy saw the tattered little bear in the care worker’s garbage can. Both the little bear’s eyes were gone, and the cotton stuffing came out in tufts from the back, looking extremely wretched.

The boy looked at it for a long while, his expression gradually becoming gloomy, his lips slightly moving.

As expected, she still died.

Bitterly crying, the boy pulled up his sleeve. The pale purple scars had already spread from his wrist to his little arm.

He turned around, looking at the scratch marks on the surrounding walls and the ray of light from the high-up, little window. He couldn’t resist getting on his tiptoes and using his injured fingers to catch that bit of light. His breathing grew gradually more rapid, and his tears rolled down one by one. Pain shot through his heart, and his fingertips desperately reached upwards, but he missed the sunlight one time after another.

Right, he was no longer 1562. He was top experimental subject 3684. He must live and leave this place.

The dead cannot free themselves. Only the living can.

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #mlqc translation #mlqc kiro #zhou qiluo #poor boy TTTT

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juleswolverton-hyde · 4 years ago

Text

Not by the Moon | 03

Genre: Smut, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Drama, Tragedy, Werewolf AU, Supernatural AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: Bookshop keeper!/Werewolf!JB x Reader

Warnings: Mild angst, a sprinkle of jealous werewolf!Jaebeom.

Summary: Every story has a purpose or goal it is dedicated to, their authors at times going to great lengths to see the project they once started to completion. Nevertheless, the things the writers swore on to see their latest art piece to completion are static.

Unchanging.

None of them swore by the Moon nor Love because they can solely genuinely swear on all that changes like themselves.

And yet, a wolf in love foolishly swore by the moon.

That is when Time truly started ticking.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Jaebeom’s POV.

Previous Chapter / Next chapter

Masterlist

I like being with you.

The phrase vividly repeats itself as I blindly lead us to the park, my head in the clouds. So much so, in fact, she has to stop in her tracks and pull me back because we have walked past the entrance.

“Jaebeom,” she struggles to draw me in, firming her grip on my arm and weakly pulling on it, “we’re here already.”

It takes a second to register what Y/N says, but after a few haphazard glances around to see where we are, it does. “Ah, right.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nobody’s ever told me that.’’ Like a lovesick puppy, I bite down on my bottom lip. ‘’That they like to be with me, I mean.”

“Surely I’m not the first.”

“I think Jinyoung, a friend, might have said it.” I shrug, resigned in the fact loneliness has been a steady companion.

The packs in the woods rejected me if I didn’t refuse to join them. Too savage, too beastly, too ambitious, too bloodthirsty. Those are the prime reasons I have been on my own, although one in particular resonates in the blurry mess of vague memories.

I am too monstrous.

“But I,” halted in the middle of the gravel path, I turn to her and rest my forehead against hers, “like being with you too.”

Her heartbeat speeds up as her scent gains a floral, roseate undertone. A flush stains her cheeks, the temperature of her body heightened. In a moment’s notice, she has turned into a beautiful spring flower. No, not a flower. Y/N is more than that.

Like a she-wolf in spring.

In season.

That’s what she looks like.

So pretty. Mine.

I have to pull away before I sweep her off her feet and mate her against the first tree we come across. We don’t even need a tree, a simple bed of grass will suffice. After all, I still want her to be comfortable.

“Did... Did you dye your hair?” Flustered, looking like a lobster, the pretty lady pulls away. However, the growl that erupts from the throat as she moves away brings an interesting change to her scent.

A thick heady tone creeps into it, which definitely puts the girl in the other role the other ego wishes her to play.

A bitch in heat.

An image of her looking as she does now but on my bed flashes by. Tears are brimming on her lashes like crystalline raindrops as pearly teeth bite down on a finger in the futile attempt to mute meek high-pitched squeals of pleasure. She’s lying sideways, the soft skin of her leg on my shoulder while my hips lose control in her warmth.

“J- Jaebeom?”

I suck in a sharp breath, though it does not prevent a pleased growl from escaping. My sight grows hazy with the fantasies of instinct as the world falls away. “Yeah?”

“Your hair... Did you dye it? It was blonde before.”

“My... my hair?” The weird question pulls me out of my reverie, blinking in wonder as to where it comes from. Nevertheless, the senses quickly sharpen as I tighten my grip on the reality of my temporary humanity again. “Right, my hair. I did! I did dye it because... because I thought the blonde didn’t suit me.”

“For what it’s worth,” like a shy schoolgirl, Y/N fumbles with her fingers, “I like this better. This is going to sound weird, but it makes you look more like- I mean, it suits you better.”

“Thank you. But what does it make me look like?”

“Never mind.” A dismissive hand brushes the half-finished remark off as a mere mistake.

“What? What do I look like?” I lean forward, barely holding in the chuckle at her crumbling composure. Notwithstanding, apparently this is the most effective way to get her to talk. “Don’t be shy.”

“Like a- You know, a- You’ll think me stuck in some emo or late teenager phase.”

“Just say it, Y/N. I won’t stop pushing until you tell me. I won’t judge you either. So, tell me.”

The word takes my breath away.

“Wolf,” she finally answers. “It makes you look like a wolf.”

I can’t suppress a smile at the compliment, buzzing with excitement and tail swishing back and forth. Wait, it isn’t my tail that’s causing the low sweeping noises.

It’s merely the wind.

Human. Gent... Gentleman. For her. Her gentleman.

“Please say something.” The pretty lady’s heart rate picks up, her scent growing alarmingly anxious like when we had our second meeting on the street.

No. No, don’t be like this!

“Good. I am.”

“What do you mean?” Brows furrowed in confusion, she looks at me blankly.

“What... oh, uhm, I- I think it’s a good ex- mirror. Likeness! It’s a good likeness. Me and a wolf.” I stick up a thumb in confirmation. Hopefully, it won’t come across as ridiculous as I feel I look.

Her eyes light up with the amber sunlight, her voice as bright when she answers with an adorable giggle. “I think you mean a good comparison.”

“I do,” I mutter, ashamed at the faulty imitation of human behaviour and tired of the storm of words wreaking havoc in my head. “That’s what I meant.”

“Shall we go find somewhere to sit?’’ Her hair dances on the light breeze as she looks around. ‘’I’m kinda overdue for a cup of coffee.”

“And food. You have to eat, Y/N.”

“Jaebeom...”

‘’Let me take care of you.” I lean in, gaze focused on her lips as I run my tongue over them. The taste of honey and peaches is reminiscent of spring, when the bees in the forest get busy and the trees in the orchards on the outskirts of the town are ripe with blossom.

If I’m still here by then, I’ll take you there.

Of course, the thought is translated horribly. “Taste nice.”

“I- I’m glad you like my lip balm.” Cheeks as ruby red as the leaves beneath our feet, she carefully traces her mouth, fingers shaking.

Then she clears her throat and tries to steady her composure, but I’ve evidently caught her off-guard. Which is also noticeable in the small tug on my sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“Are you upset?” I ask, keeping a close eye on her as we walk down the lane towards a big open field of grass.

“No, it’s just that... when you licked me earlier, it wasn’t on,” she lowers her voice to a barely audible and unintelligible murmur though my hearing allows me to still hear her as clear as day, “the lips. It’s almost as if, you know, you kiss... kissed me.”

Kiss?

Just then we pass a couple with their lips pressed against each other. The contact lingers for a brief second, as fast as lightning.

And just as fast the meaning of it for humans dawns on me, rising from the ever-diminishing pocket of humanity inside my brain.

“Would you mind if I did?”

Face pale, she rapidly turns to me. Y/N parts her lips to say something yet decides against it and settle for something else. “Let’s start slowly. Get to know each other first.”

I’d kiss you. You only have to ask.

But we barely know each other. Humans who don’t have a close bond don’t kiss. At least that piece of information has stuck.

We take a right onto the big field and settle down in the grass beneath a tall willow. I’d rather have we sit huddled together or that she sits on my lap so I can keep her warm, but Y/N sits next to me yet far enough away to not touch at all. The displeased whimper and whine get lost in the unpacking of the sandwiches, ignored under the ruckus of unfolding paper.

Notwithstanding, the dissatisfaction evaporates like snow before the sun when a small hand gives me the two venison sandwiches. Restraining myself to not give into the hunger pangs, I accept the food as if she were handing me a weapon. A long metal blade. A sword, I believe it’s called.

However, the careful control doesn’t last long since the first taste of the spiced meat encourages the ravenous part of me to devour the sandwich in one gulp, if possible. And I would have tried had it not been for the breathless giggle at my side.

Nibbling on the straw, Y/N has a strangely tender look on her face as she watches me eat. A wonderful expression that colours a rosy shade of pink when she notices I’m staring right back at her. “Sorry. It’s just... just that I like seeing you eat. You literally wolf your food down with such a happy expression I can’t help but feel happy.”

Don’t talk with your mouth full. Jinyoung’s told you that more than once.

Like this morning, when he sighed in exasperation like a tired father during breakfast. Henceforth, I chew the food with my mouth closed, swallow and wipe my mouth on a napkin before answering. “I’m a messy eater, though. I don’t think it’s- What’s the word? Ap- Appetizing? It’s appetizing, right? Right, appetizing to watch.”

“I don’t mind.” Like a rabbit, she holds her vegetable sandwich between her tiny paws and takes a small bite out of it. “Just be careful. You don’t want meat juice and sauce on your clothes.”

Eats like a bunny. Cute. So cute.

“I won’t make a mess,” I murmur, taking care to actually keep my word while sneaking glances at the way she eats. It’s controlled, more nibbling than biting. All the same, relief and contentment mix in a calming way that’s visible in her relaxed composure. Even her scent loses more of the sourness of anxiety. But I’m just glad she’s eating.

We watch other humans as we eat, sitting in comfortable silence. A little ways away, two old people, a male and a female, sit on a bench and feed the pigeons together. Once there is no more bread left - multigrain, judging by the scent - their fingers entwine as they close their eyes to soak up the sunlight.

A soft whine unintentionally rises in my throat, longing after the dream of experiencing that very same moment myself together with Y/N someday.

‘’Are you-?’’ The question doesn’t register, hardly penetrating the dullness washing over me. Ears gloomily drooped down, I continue staring at the old couple.

Can that be us one day? How long is the road before we get there?

‘’JB?’’

‘’Hm?’’ Slowed down by the heaviness making a numb statue out of this body, I turn my head.

She holds the unfinished sandwich up I had in my hand a second ago. ‘’What’s on your mind?’’

‘’Nothing.’’ I take the food from her little paw. ‘’Thank you.’’

She doesn’t believe me, but resigns in the face of the unspoken message I don’t want to talk. Instead, she sighs and sips on the straw of her coffee.

“What do you do?” I ask by the time I’m finished with the first of the two sandwiches. Y/N knows what I do for a living and it’s the best question I can think of to try and get to know her better. Also, it might lift the heavy silence that fell over us until the elderly mates left.

“I’m a journalist for Pack. It’s a travel magazine and a great way to see the world. It’s amazing how much is out there, how many cultures and perspectives exist. However,” hands tucked between her thighs, lashes avert to the ground, “as you may have noticed, I’m not the spontaneous sort, which is why I don’t like working alone.”

Pack? As in, a pack? Although, you said travel so it’s likely... pack stuff? Packing up! That’s it! Putting stuff in bags and going somewhere.

If only it was possible to travel with her someplace far away. Go see the world together so she doesn’t have to be alone. Then again, there is no way to run from myself nor guarantee any form of safety on strange grounds.

I’ve become too unstable.

Despite trying to hide it, the jealousy I have for who she works with shows in the unintentionally venomous ring in my voice. “Who do you work with?”

“A colleague of mine named Kunpimook, but he prefers going by BamBam. He’s the social and truly adventurous one, so basically I just always happily tag along. Plus, his photos are superb. We’ll be leaving for Bruges the day after tomorrow to take a look at the local chocolate business.”

‘’Is there anything between you two? More than work?” There is no way I’m letting another male anywhere near her because he could take advantage of her. Especially after all this time, working together and thus winning her trust.

I don’t care if we barely know each other. I won’t have it.

I have to keep her safe.

As Y/N’s gentleman.

Her wolf.

“There’s nothing between us. He’s more like a brother than anything else and he thinks the same about me.” Her breath quickens as she notices the blazing distrust in my gaze. “W- Why are you looking at me like that?”

Instead of giving an answer, I sniff her to make absolutely certain this other male doesn’t have or has tried already to create the bond with her that I want despite what she said.

Nothing.

Nothing but summer citrus, autumnal blackberries and juicy peaches.

Good.

To calm her down, I lean in to nuzzle the scent glands in her neck while purring and manipulating my own scent to put her at ease. The tenseness in the palms on my shoulders relaxes, her breaths come at a more regular interval and the rigidity flows from her body.

You’re safe with me.

A gentle force pushes me back, growing stronger as I fight it by wrapping my arms around her waist. A low growl erupts as the resistance persists, though it dies down at the sound. I’m not letting her go.

Not now.

Not yet.

Until a voice like a shy robin stammers in discomfort. “Jaebeom, can- can you let go?”

“Have you calmed down?” It’s an unnecessary question.

There’s a better word for it. Sup... supper? No, that’s not it. Super... something with an ‘f’.

Superfluous!

It’s a superfluous question because the nervous shivers have stopped. All the same, I don’t want to let go.

I can’t.

I won’t.

Yet I do as something blurry flashes by in my peripheral vision. Almost bumping my head against her jaw, I jolt up and stare ahead in tender awe.

Free of the troubles of the world, a brightly smiling pup runs by with outstretched chubby paws. A bit ahead, there’s another giddy pup. The two must be chasing each other.

A child.

A child is chasing another child.

“What are you looking at?” She follows my gaze, which is fixated on the two children giggling and play-fighting with each other. They stop when hearing their mother call, rise to their little hind legs and run to her.

“One day, I want pups of my own.” The dreamy words roll off the tongue without a thought nor consideration for reality. What they see is what could be.

A dream of someday.

“Pups?” The word sounds like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit even though she struggles to make it fit regardless.

“Yeah, pups. You know,” I nod in the direction of the two siblings, “like those over there.”

A frown mars her lovely face, but it fades into gentle correction. “Children, JB. They’re called children.”

I tilt my head to the side, struggling to understand and make my own puzzle piece fit. “I’m certain someone’s offspring are called pups.”

“Humans,” she gestures from me to her, “like us, call them children. Babies when they’re younger than those toddlers you were watching.”

“I still think pups sounds better.”

I let go of her. Nevertheless, sust to be sure Y/N stays warm, I hook my arm through hers and keep her against my side. Instinctively, she snuggles up to me like on the way here.

The content sigh goes accompanied with an ironic remark. “Are you really a wolf or something?”

“Yes!” I exclaim, until I check my body and see no paws nor a tail. “No! I mean, no, I’m not. It sounds adorable, though, don’t you think?” I bite my lip, growing warm with another cheesy yet affectionate remark. “But you did say I look like one.”

“I stand by what I said, especially now.” She giggles, murmuring something under her breath I’ll only tolerate when she says it. “Weirdo.”

Yours. Your weirdo. Your wolf man.

“Have you ever thought about getting them?”

“I actually don’t want children. I’m not too keen on the idea of raising a child and I don’t think that will ever change.” Unaware of the gravity of her statement, she sits up a bit, takes a sip of coffee and finishes her half-eaten vegetable sandwich.

Not... not even with me? Then again, you barely know me and I will likely forget you even though I don’t want to. Would you change your mind if the pup might be the only trace of me before I disappear?

“How about you?”

“I’d like to one day, but...” I trail off, choking on the truth. Her words have created a stone in my stomach which makes me nauseous and unable to think.

“But what?” She places a bunny-like paw on my back, rubbing gently as she averts her gaze and speaks in a remorseful tone. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry.”

“I have this...” Fumbling with my fingers, I speak up despite the paralyzing speechlessness. No word seems to accurately describe what’s going on nor is it credible enough to describe the truth. Nevertheless, she has to know what’s going on.

I want her to.

I trust her.

So I try and tell her my story. “I have this condition. I have trouble remembering things and it’s been getting worse.”

“Is it something like dementia?” Out of a lack of a better explanation for this side-effect of lycanthropy, I merely nod in confirmation. A grim paleness colours her attitude, lips pulling into a straight line as she’s now suffocating with words too. “Do you have medication? Anything to help fight it?”

I fish the small bottle of pills Jinyoung gave me this morning out of my pocket. With a thumb over the ingredients, I show it to her. “My friend’s a doctor at the university. He’s put me on these, but I have a feeling they’re not as effective anymore as they once were.” I put the bottle back. “I do want them, though not with the way I am. They deserve better than a father who’d forget them eventually if he even remembers them at all in the first place. Moreover, my partner would have to take care of me as well as the pups. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

“I’m sure,” our gazes meet as our fingers entwine, naturally weaving together like beds of moss on the bark of a tree, “they would gladly care if they know about your condition.”

I rest my forehead against hers and lower my voice to a hopeful whimper. “You know about it.”

A mistake.

“We’ve just met.”

“Right,” I murmur and withdraw though I hold on to her paw a little tighter.

She’s right. We’ve just met.

I’m still a stranger. A stranger in a world strange to him.

“Yet,” Y/N takes in a shaky breath before she continues and transforms the burden of loneliness into a storm of butterflies, “I’d stay. For now, can I stay by your side like this?”

“Of course.” In an impulse, I pull her into my arms and on my lap. Her hair smells like argan oil, sweet yet pleasant like summer. “Never doubt that. Never think I don’t want you to.”

Despite the joy, tears sting in my eyes at the realization I’m no longer alone, surviving like a floating ship in unknown waters. Of course, there’s Jinyoung, but he can’t be there in ways the pretty lady can.

Y/N is my anchor now.

“Don’t go.” I can’t suppress an ugly sob, gripped by fear at the vision of ending up alone in spite of the promise. To go back to the way I was, on the brink of being lost forever. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she murmurs into my hair, lovingly running her fingers through it to calm me down. “I’m here, Jaebeom. I’m here. Until I can’t anymore.”

For a little while, we sit like this beneath the willow. The world shrinks and fades into a blur of autumn shades in October, its sounds gradually becoming nothing more than indistinguishable white noise.

They rise in volume again when I’ve stopped crying, the reality filtering in by sharpening the song of robins and nature dressed in warm tones of red and gold.

We exchange numbers. As she types hers into my phone, she promises to send me daily reminders to take my medicine and threatens to spam me with them until I send a confirmation. Guess I finally have something to look forward to aside from Jinyoung’s cooking.

Coming back was a good decision after all. I want to try for you. Until I can’t anymore.

“And you can call me whenever you like too,” she shyly remarks as we switch back our devices.

My ears perk up as a delighted buzz leaves me trembling. “Really?” I yelp, my tail quickly swishing back and forth. My nerves are on edge with delight, limbs ready to pounce on her. But I don’t.

Because I am human.

And I don’t want to give off the wrong impression.

But your body tells me something else. No! Not without your consent.

“Yes, because I... well, aside from being with you, I like... your... your voice.”

“I like yours.” I lean in and run my tongue over her lips like before. Does that count as a kiss?

“And I like your scent,” I add, purring as I trace my fingers over her arm to her wrist.

“Uhm, Jaebeom, what- what are you doing?”

I press it against my nose, drunkenly nuzzling it while trying to conceal my panting. “I’m scenting you so they’ll know you’re mine.” To strengthen the claim, I leave a stronger imprint of my own scent on her by giving it a firm lick. Even her skin tastes of spring. “You smell really nice.”

“I’m glad you, ah, like my perfume, but,” a strange panic creeps into her voice after a pained squeak when I sink my teeth into her flesh, “JB, I think you should stop. People are watching.”

“Let them.’’ The taste of iron floods the senses, raising the beast within further to the surface. Notwithstanding, I fight the urge to pin her to the ground for a proper mating. So all I do is help the healing by licking the ridged skin of the shallow wound. A wolf’s saliva works as a disinfectant and anti- ant- health advancer. ‘’I want them to know I’m your mate.”

Besides, how else am I supposed to mark you?

“Mate? What? JB, are you okay? You’re starting to make less and less sense.” A small warm palm cups my cheek, initiating a lock of gazes. Frantic with concern, she searches for a reason as to what I’m going through in my gaze though I doubt if she will. “You’re burning up.”

I weave my fingers through those on the side of my face, a wistful smile on my lips. “I’m forgetting myself again. You wouldn’t understand when I’d say I’m slowly fading and not just forgetting as I told you. And it’s gotten worse because of you.”

“Be- Because of me?”

“It’s not a bad thing.” To assure her it’s not as grave as she thinks, I close my eyes and hum in pure content. After all, I could lose my humanity a lot faster in a less pleasant way. At least it’ll be slower now that I have something to fight, to live for. “You don’t understand the significance of it and I don’t want you to.”

“You’re talking nonsense. You’re not going anywhere soon. Let’s go home before your fever gets any worse.”

Our fingers disentangle, mine gliding over the indentation I’ve left behind on her wrist before I wrap my arms around her waist. Her heart races in my ear when I rest my head on the softness of her breasts, her breath falling still in an instant when I place her hand on my head. Hopefully, Y/N will catch on to what I mean by it. “Yeah, it’s definitely getting worse, but I looked forward to this. This park outing. So can we please stay like this for a little longer? A nap might make me feel... bet... ter.”

The wish is granted, because she runs her hand through my hair. Hesitantly at first, but quickly setting a pace for herself that lets me rest tranquilly.

In the sky above, the moon looks down on us. If I wasn’t sleepy, I would howl to it and sing a wolf song. Instead, I purr and bask in my mate’s presence until I lose conscience. “Hm, nice.”

I love you and always will. My love will never change. I swear so by the moon.

#GOT7 #GOT7 smut #Jaebeom #Im Jaebeom #GOT7 x Reader #Werewolf AU #Jaebeom x Reader #Werewolf!Jaebeom

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worm-writes · 3 years ago

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Courtesy Call

Iida is having a hard time and its about time he realizes he isn't as weak as he thinks he is.

Mutters rang around in class as thunder boomed from outside and the building shook. It’s been lightly drizzling all day, as it has been lately an abnormal amount. Denki had said it was going to thunder today, as he had decided to stay in bed today for not feeling good. His Quirk always acted up a bit in the rain, or so he told them. His hair had looked staticy this morning and the lights had seemed a bit dim that day so no one really questioned it. Tenya considered bringing him snacks after dinner but heard Kirishima and Mina discussing it between him and a few other students. The two had pushed their desks against Sero’s and were talking, or well, Sero seemed to be looking at him with a concerned face. Tenya looked back at his notebook.

The sound of the chattering began to feel muffled to Tenya as he stared at his blank notebook. He was supposed to be writing notes, he knows he should be writing notes, but he couldn’t bring himself to bring his pensil to his paper as Vlad drew on some systematic equation in the background. Tenya felt stuck, and frustrated. He looked up on his classmates and could tell no else was paying attention too, half of them weren’t even in their seats anymore. Something in his mind was telling him he should scold them for it but he felt glued to his seat.

A large flash overtook the class, followed by a louder booming noise. The door slammed open and Aizawa strutted in, ignoring Vlads glare at interrupting his lesson, guess he didn’t notice that not many people were paying attention. Not even Tenya was really paying attention, he kinda felt bad about it but today had started to feel a bit too much of a drag, even to him. Aizawa announced that class has ended. Immediately everyone got up and began to leave, ignoring Vlads complaining. Yaomomo had gotten up and went to Jirou, passing her headphones that she pulled from her skin and placing it over her ears. Tenya felt a bit iffy that he didn't notice his classmates suffering sooner and moved to help too, but could barely put down his pencil.

Uraraka bounded over with a small smile and started talking. She seemed happy that class was ending and was hurriedly putting his things away for him before he could even do anything. He tried to protest, it coming out with rushed slurs as she closed his notebook and pencil, but her smile grew. And she seemed to talk faster, and Midoriya came up behind her just as excited. He felt a small smile overcome him but the nasty sluggish feeling started to grow as they grabbed his hands and led him towards the door. Sero appeared next to him, not really talking but had seemed to ditch Kirishima and Mina who where following after Bakugou, messing to pester him.

“Iida stay back.” Aizawas voice cut clear through the muffled noise. Uraraka and Midoriya pouted before leaving, saying they'll be outside. Sero followed but with a concerned glance as the two giggled, not realizing they were still holding his stuff, as they walked out, or maybe they did. Iida let out a small breath of release that immediately got caught as Aizawa walked past him. Everything came muted again as he started to follow. Was he in trouble? Did he do something wrong? Fear seemed to rake at him just as much as the sluggish feeling was, and he subconsciously rubbed at his pants as he followed from a distance.

Aizawa walked into the teacher lounge and crossed into a small room. Tenya kept his head down as he followed but felt watched, as if he was being judged by his teachers. He almost slammed the door behind them when he reached the room. Aizawa sat on a chair just opposite of a couch. There was a steaming cup of coco across from him. Tenya slowly sat and took it, letting the heat seep through his fingertips and a small silence passed over them.

He watched as Aizawa pulled out paper and began grading with a grunt, gesturing for him to drink from the mug. He did so and it was thick and sweet on his tongue. It brought out a small memory of when Tenko had wrapped him up when he was sick and gave him one after sneaking it past their parents. Tenya smiled at the cup, and slowly drank it as Aizawa graded. When he finished, Aizawa just grabbed a thermo and poured him more, and the cycle until he was done grading and Tenya was feeling a bit more aware.

“Do you know why you are here?’ He started as he placed the last paper down. Tenya shook his head, to be honest while they sat he thought of every possible reason and nothing could come up. He hasn’t really done anything bad and has been especially careful after the Stain incident. The cup of hot coco was still warm to his touch as Aizawa sighed and leaned over. The room was tense as Tenya looked away and placed the half cup of coc on the table, he no longer felt interested in it.

“Iida, you’ve slowed down in training a lot recently, even your grades have seemed a bit down.” He grabbed one of the papers and held it up, it was his paper, it read a C in the theosis of quirk work. Tenya winced, yeah he has been doing a bit bad but he didn’t think it was important or anything, he could always do better later. That's what he's been telling himself but even he can tell that it's been slowly getting worse.

“I’m sorry sensei, I will do better later, please just give me a bit of time.” Tenya picked at the skin around his nails. Just a bit more time, he silently begged in his head. The sluggish feeling started to return as he began to once again feel frustrated with himself. Aizawa sighed loudly and placed the paper in front of him. The red C burned into him and he looked away, a loud boom shook the room as Aizawa began to talk again.

It all began to become muffled again but this time hazy. Tenya stared at his fingers, thinking he was being scolded, he missed the concern on Aizawas face. It’s his fault he was like this anyways, he deserves to be scolded, why did he believe that he would do better in the first place? Why would he? He’s been so Lazy lately that he can't even remember the last time he studied, and has been just laying in bed after school doing nothing instead. Of course he’s failing, look at him. He didn’t even write any notes today. Aizawa is just going to expel him and he’ll go home to see his brother's sad face. Face his now disabled brother and have to tell him he can’t keep up the family name, because it's HIS Fault.

A hand covered his fingers, distracting him. He looked up to see Aizawa directly in front of him, having moved the table and was crouched down. He was saying something, but it didn’t register in his ears. Aizawa looked extremely concerned as he wiped at his face. Oh, he was crying. He didn’t mean to bring him into trouble. He felt small compared to his teacher, he knew he wasn’t at all in the slightest but as another flash and boom from the rain hit, he found himself curling up, away from his concerned teacher. He looked at his hands, now bleeding and red from his excess picking. What was he doing here?

He slowly stood and swalloed thickly, Aizawa backed up, giving him room, and in a small voice said, “May I be excused Sensei?”

Tenya didn’t wait for an answer. He bolted out of there, not even noticing the ruckus he created from leaving, or the fat that he was using his quirk. He ran past Uraraka, Midoriya and Sero, not hearing their calls, and ran all the way to the training track. It seems that this has become a habit to him, always running from his troubles. Away from the people he loved, always being protected but never doing the protecting.

A sob escaped his mouth, where did that come from? When did he feel like he was always being protected?

An image flashed through his mind, Midoriya and Todoroki had protected him from stain, Uraraka defending him from Bakugou when he got told off for his family, Todoroki with the police.

Oh.

Guess he was always being protected huh? Always in someone's way, always needing to be helped, always struggling . Tenya grimaced as he started to jog around the track, his brain running faster than his legs as frustration seemed to gather around him. Why was he always like this? He pumped his legs faster, he needs to get better, and better now. He doesn’t want to be the one everyone always protects, the one who always runs for help.

He stumbled on the bed, peet sliding in the mud, and picked himself back up, running again, he can do this. He can't let himself get knocked down every time he fails to do something. A sob tore through his throat as he stumbled another bend, falling this time. He picked himself back up, determined even more this time.

The world seemed to go in slow motion as he put his frustration full forces into his legs, Gears shifting into a retro burst, but something even bigger, as his legs began to glow and grow, Blue streaks appeared from the notch and spread, growing up Tenyas arms and legs, seeming to burn as he felt him turn again, this time barely slipping in the mud. He can do this, He HAs to do it.

Another boom, as lightning hit right in front of him, he didn't stop though, going full force into it. He barely grunted as he continued his run. HYe has SO many people that look up to him, that he looks up to. His brother was counting on him to carry on his name and he refused to go back, to see him cry just because he gave up.

He felt the Gears shift one last time giving him one last push and-

BOOM

Lighting struck him and a pop bursted from him, it arched from him making wild noises. Everything was blurry as everything seemed to glow and become extremely slow to him, his legs didn’t even feel like they were touching the floor, he was lapping faster and faster than he could possibly do before. 1, 2, 3, Tenya passed the start over and over again, the frustration never dying neither did the tears, or was it the rain? He couldn't tell at this point but he was extremely warm despite it.

Lightning seemed to be produced from him as he felt even more charges up, it danced away from him in arc, reaching up to the sky, he couldn’t feel it at all. Then as soon as it started, it stopped. The gears in his arms were forcefully shut off and he flew into something hard, not being able to stop himself. Whatever it was wrapped around him and he felt it shift backwards. He panted heavily as his legs turned into jello.

Tenya looked into what he ran into. SERO!?

He flushed and hobbled back, only to be caught as his legs gave out under him. A fully soaked Sero smirked at him. “Well hello there.”

He choked on apologies, as laughter seemed to etch around him. He looked around and saw the happy smiles of his classmates. They were all laughing at his flustered face but seemed happy that he was fine. How could he forget? His classmates relied on him just as much as he relied on them. They crowded around him, with concerned smiles. Well that was until Aizawa started storming over with red eyes, hair levitating and an angry look on his face.

“As much as I love having you in my arms, sweet cheeks, you need to go to the nurse.” Sero picked him up bridal style and started half jogging away from the group. It was a bit awkward to be held like that but it became obvious that Sero Had as much muscle as Tenya did. Makes sense on how since he's been able to swing himself alright. The rain didn't seem to deter him as it slid down his face and down his neck. Wait nO! Tenya, since when did you think about your male classmates like that? He blushed and looked back at his friends. They seemed to be trying their best to hold back Aizawa but were quickly being picked off one by one.

“You might want to hurry, Aizawa is catching up.” Tenya muttered, Sero cracked and began to run back to the dorms. It's great to have friends, Tenya thought as he hid his face against Seros collar bone. Everyone was soaked to the bone, even him, but they still managed to make him smile.

#tenya lida #bnha angst #dadzawa #fuck i fotgot tags #accidentally gay #hurt/comfort #my works #my work #my wriitng

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crystalirises · 4 years ago

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A Liar and A Son

Note: This was a prompt given to me on ao3 by Project and I have their permission to post it on Tumblr :)

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Fundy curled closer into himself, pulling his knees closer to his chest as a bout of nausea tore through his senses. His throat ached with each small sound he made in an effort to alert anyone of his debilitated state. The air felt hot around him, nearly suffocating as he clawed at his shirt collar, begging for fresh air to fill his lungs. The window had been closed for the night, trapping him in his own bedroom to choke and die. Well, he wasn't really dying, but it sure felt like he was. His vision was blurry, spots of black weaving in and out of existence as he tried to focus on the lamp desk in front of him. He was in his room, but he couldn't say for sure. Fundy let out a whimper, shivering despite the heat that ravaged his body. He must've caught something yesterday, or maybe a while ago when he had so carelessly jumped into the river after a long hot day of training. Fundy buried his head into the rough pillow, begging the abyss of sleep to take him into its kind embrace. He wasn't sure how long he could keep his eyes open, if he'd even wake once he does fall into slumber.

The day had started quite terribly, with his father practically yanking him out of bed in the godforsaken hours of dawn where even the sun still refused to rise in the east. There had been a chill and harsh wind outside, one that left Fundy shivering in his poorly-made crayon suit as they all began their daily training. Fundy could barely breathe by the time they finished, the sun high in the sky that it's warmth was more a curse than a blessing.

With their training done, Fundy got the "bright" idea to sneak out and jump into the river nearby. The water was cold against his skin, dripping down his hair as he made his way home, hoping that he wouldn't run into Wilbur.

Jumping into the river was a mistake… gods…

He heard the faint creak of wood stuttering open, a muted gasp as hurried footsteps echoed throughout the small room. Fundy groaned, closing his eyes as the sudden loud noise began to make his head ache anew. A warm hand was rubbing gentle circles on his back, another petting his hair before lowering to rest at his forehead. He heard a small tsk from above, hushed whispers asking indecipherable words into his ear as a face came into view. Fundy blinked, his vision a mess of color. He didn't know who was in the room with him, couldn't possibly distinguish the face that peered down at him. He edged a bit closer to the stranger, wishing to feel some semblance of comfort in the haze that enveloped his mind. The stranger moved closer, the mattress dipping as they sat a bit closer to him. Fundy reached out a hand, clutching at what felt like the end of a coat. A blue coat as far as he could tell. That meant one thing… "D-dad?"

"Y-yeah, kiddo… Are you alright, Fundy?"

He felt arms wrap around his form, pulling him closer until his head was resting on his dad's lap. He felt his dad fuss over him, poking his cheek every now and then as if to see if he was still conscious.

"Jumped into the river… sorry…" Fundy sniffed, eyes nearly fluttering shut as he hugged his knees closer to his chest. He expected a lecture, a tangent of words he'd probably wouldn't be able to understand as his dad went on a tirade of how foolish he had been and how dangerous it would've been if anyone had caught him outside L'Manburg. Wilbur had built the walls for him, so Fundy would never have to leave. Fundy hated them.

"It's alright, buddy. I know training was brutal today. It's not your fault." Fingers grazed his cheek. Fundy leaned into the touch, his tail wagging weakly against the bed. "You poor thing… you'll be alright, Fundy. I promise."

The arms around him slowly disentangled.

"You have a fever… Hold on a second, Fundy. I'll be right back, alright?" Fundy whined as his dad moved away, feeling the loneliness of his situation even as he heard the scuff of boots against the wooden floor of his bedroom. A cool breeze fluttered into the room, as pale moonlight graced the room with its ethereal glow. Fundy blinked, turning on his side to avoid the light. "I'll be right back, Fundy. Just try and close your eyes for now."

"B-but…" His dad's footsteps turned muffled, his door creaking as his dad disappeared into the hall. Fundy whimpered, shutting his eyes tight as he could, worried that his dad wouldn't come back. "Dad…"

Silence greeted him. He wanted to cry.

It wouldn't be the first time Wilbur had promised him something and didn't truly mean it. Fundy missed when Wilbur acted like his dad instead of his general. L'Manburg had been nothing but a cabin, the home of a hermit and his small fox hybrid son. There was no war, no drugs, no Tommy nor Tubbo, but them. Perhaps it was selfish to long for the past, but Fundy would have given everything to have his dad back. He hated the general, but missed the musician.

General Wilbur Soot was a cold man, a soldier who loved his country more than he could ever love his own family. Wilbur Soot the Travelling Musician was a loving and doting father, a man who simply wanted to give his son the world.

He's still so young… yet he's lost himself and his father to war. War has no mercy to spare, not to a father and certainly not to a child.

"Dad… please don't leave me here… Dad..."

He felt hot tears sting the corner of his eyes, wet trails slowly cascading down his cheeks as he let out a mournful sob. His dad had left him again. His hands reached out towards his hair, pulling at the tips as he tried to console himself to sleep. He was alone. His dad didn't care. His head began to pound, an ache settling over his entire body as sorrow wracked through his form. The house was eerily silent, as if his dad had truly left him alone to fend for himself against a fever. Still, Fundy held on to the small hope that his dad would come back, that he couldn't hear movement due to the ringing in his ears. He wished his dad wasn't so busy… too busy to even stay— His ears twitched, the slight groan of wood breaking through the silence as someone rushed back into the room. He let out a small noise of joy, sounding more like he was choking as a hand tried to soothe him into comfort. He felt something cold and wet pressed against his forehead.

"We need to go on a supply run soon." Fundy heard his dad mutter under his breath, the drenched piece of cloth left against his forehead as a pair of arms moved him to the center of the bed. Fundy let out a pained gasp, his vision blurring as he was slightly jostled. "Sorry, Fundy. I know it hurts, buddy."

Fundy heard the rustle of bedsheets, the sudden shift on the mattress as his dad turned to leave again. With his remaining strength, Fundy reached out, grasping his dad's wrist though knowing his dad could easily break out of his weak hold. He felt his dad's pulse quicken, the figure shifting until he was gazing into his dad's blurry face. Fundy couldn't really see his eyes, a dark shadow covering the top of his dad's face.

"Stay." His voice was hoarse, a low whisper that Fundy feared wouldn't reach his dad's ears. His dad moved closer, lying down beside him as he placed a hand on the back of Fundy's head. Fundy pressed closer, nuzzling his head against his dad's neck as a small tune tried to pull him to sleep. He'd never heard his dad sing this particular song, it reminded Fundy of the time he and Eret had started to sing while they placed down the foundations of what was to be L'Manburg. Fundy sniffled, remembering the days where his dad trusted him enough to be in charge of the houses… yet that responsibility fell upon Tubbo as his dad was too worried about Fundy leaving the walls to gather the materials they needed for construction. Eret had casted him a look, a worried glance before humming underneath his breath. It had devolved into a round of singing which lasted the entire night. He felt a chin press against the top of his head, and for a moment, Fundy remembered how good of a dad Wilbur was when he wasn't riddled with paranoia and stress. "Mmm… love you…"

His dad froze up and Fundy worried that he had said the wrong thing. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd told his dad that… couldn't remember the last time his dad said those words to him either. Fundy tried to pull away but an arm wrapped around his shoulder, shushing him as his dad held him closer. Fundy let out a small yip, too delirious to even be embarrassed about how childish it sounded. "I-I love you too, bud. I love you too."

His eyes fluttered close, exhaustion seeping into his veins as the fever began to pull him into sleep. Fundy clung to his dad's soft singing, wondering why his dad sounded a bit different than he usually did. Wilbur didn't sing as much, preferring to hum a low whisper that Fundy could barely hear at times. He couldn't remember the last time his father had sung him to sleep. The last his dad had been there for him when sickness placed a mist over his mind that Fundy could barely distinguish friend from foe. Still… he knew he was safe in his dad's arms right then and there. No one else in L'Manburg cared for him, it couldn't be anyone else. A smile found its way to his lips. He wished his dad hugged him more often. "Will… you be here in the morning…?"

"I will, Fundy. I'll stay with you for the night if you want me too. You don't have to worry about early morning training, at this rate you might have to stay in bed for a week… god…" A loud hiss followed soon after, his dad's hand trembling against the back of his head as a drop of water landed on his cheek. He heard a sniffle, the hand disappearing for a moment before settling on his cheek. A thumb wiped away the bead of water, "I'm sorry, Fundy. Don't worry about your old man, alright?"

"... Goodnight, Dad… promise you'll be here tomorrow? Please..."

"... Sleep well, Fundy, and yes I'll be here. I promise. I promise."

"...love you…"

"Hm… I know, son. I know."

~~~

Eret waited until Fundy's breath slowly stuttered to a peaceful lull, his forehead still creased as though even sleep there was no reprieve from the stress the poor fox hybrid suffered in his waking life. Eret rubbed soothing circles on his back, guilt gnawing and clawing at their chest as their tongue tasted the sickly sweet lie that they had told the poor child. They knew they should have corrected Fundy, should've told him that they weren't Wilbur.

But how could they tell the truth? Fundy looked utterly miserable and Eret's heart couldn't bear the devastated disappointment that would cross Fundy's face, quickly disappearing into indifference as if to show he didn't really care.

Fundy wasn't that good at hiding his emotions.

They pressed a soft pat against the fox hybrid's head before slowly moving away. Fundy stirred in his sleep but didn't try to reach out for them. Eret made their way towards the hall, leaving the door open for when Wilbur came into the house. They paused, leaning against the wall as a sharp pain of despair gripped their chest.

Dream's proposal hung over their head.

L'Manburg's army consisted of children, Eret didn't know what to do. It was a good offer, one not many could refuse… but to take a child's life much less three for the sake of a crown is nothing short but evil. Eret placed ran a hand through their face, the choice weighing heavily in his soul. They'd said yes, like the coward they were. With one simple word, Eret condemned them all to death. Fundy, Tubbo, and Tommy shouldn't have to go through such a betrayal, but there's nothing Eret could do. The deal was signed, and only the gods knew who cruel Dream could be if crossed. They had to go through with it… even if it meant seeing hate in Fundy's eyes. L'Manburg would be a nation built upon the blood and tears of children lost to war. In the end, it was never meant to be.

They heard the crinkle of bedsheets. They looked over, relieved to find that Fundy had simply turned in his sleep. Eret sighed before walking down the stairs, careful not to step on a creaky floorboard. Eret couldn't stay, it wasn't their place and Fundy didn't need them. Fundy needed his dad, and Eret would drag Wilbur home by the neck if it meant Fundy could have one moment of happiness. Wilbur needed to be there for his son. For once, damn it.

Eret breathed in the night air, the wind whipping against the end of their coat as they gazed up into the starless sky. They took a final look behind their shoulder, praying to any god that Fundy wouldn't wake to an empty room.

Eret left. They needed to find Wilbur.

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Hm... Yep :/

pls don't kill me ;-;

#fundy #eret #mcyt #here comes the angst again #and my timing is so horrible ;-;

43 notes · View notes

misselko · 3 years ago

Text

Please kindly leave some of your comments or ideas for my next fic! Your warm and loving words gives me energy to write more!!

RECKLESS

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of blood, violence, a little smut

Words: 3316

POST TIMESKIP

You don’t know why but you can’t shake your uneasy feelings and dread. War is raging and everyone knows there is a big battle on the horizon.

“We must not falter in our assault. The Death Knight is the enemy commander in Fort Merceus. He’s an unpredictable opponent. A dangerous one. Please proceed with caution, (Y/N).”

“I will, Dimitri. No need to worry.”

“I have not come this far just to lose you here. I’m serious. Do not be reckless out there.”

“Will you save me if I’m in trouble?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You were the heart of the Blue Lions, and the same holds true for the Kingdom Army.”

You smiled at his concern and hold his hands gently.

“I will do my best as well to support you, my Dimitri.” His cheeks turned into rosy blush at your words.

---

“You dare stand between me and my pleasure?”

“Yes. I dare stand against you, Death Knight!!”

But you wouldn’t let it happen!

You acted on instinct, rushing forward, sprinting to intervene. To protect him.

‘We have been through so much together and he’d been through hell and back... I want to ease his pain. Knowing he’s safe... I can be at peace.’

“(Y/N)!!!”

Dimitri watched as the blood pooled around you. Blood... there is so much blood. Your blood.

“Goddess... what were you- MERCEDES! FLAYN!! SOMEONE...HELP!!”

He pulled himself up, beside you, staring at your face. You were so pale. Oh, Goddess, you were dying. Were you already dead?

“I’m sorry.” There isn’t a reason to apologize, you aren’t sorry, but it still came out like the blood that is on Dimitri’s hands now.

“Y-You... haven’t seen the... swordmaster... and those snipers. Y-You...were going to die...if they attack you. I want to protect you.... and I don’t regret my decision.“

“Please stay awake for me a little longer, please.”

He choked out, pulling you closer if possible as it would keep you from leaving.

The chaos around you went mute as your eyes grow heavy. Maybe a quick nap would suffice.

“No...no, no, (Y/N)!! You can’t do this to me, you can’t-! Please, (Y/N), I can’t lose you too.....”

You felt like you were fading, and the sounds around you faded along with your hazy consciousness. You fell asleep.

---

Every second was filled with anxiety; you’d lost so much blood. The wounds were too deep to heal completely. There was little to no possibility of survival. Not after what you’d been through.

“You nearly died because of me. I have no right to be... you of all people shouldn’t-!” He managed to say, his voice shaking as his fingers trembled.

“I’m okay, Dimitri...” You whispered, resting a hand on his chest where his heart thundered. You closed your eyes against him, relishing the feel of his tender warmth.

"I could not stand to lose you,” he spoke slowly, holding your hands so tight that it hurts.

“But I fear that I may if I tell you what is on my mind.”

“Dimitri.” You call him quietly, which makes him look at you with those gorgeous eyes of him.

“I won’t leave you, Dimitri.” You promised between ragged breath, your chest heaving.

---

It was two weeks since you have gotten better. Mercedes promised to take care after your bandages this evening.

“Are you ready, (Y/N)?”

You met Mercedes’ warm gaze with your own. With a firm nod, you replied, “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mercedes.”

“I’m sorry but we will never be able to remove the scars. The wounds all healed, but... the scars will never go away completely. I’m sorry (Y/N).”

Your eyes immediately flashed over to Dimitri’s stiffening frame.

“It’s okay. I will never regret such a thing.” You smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Do you need anything else, (Y/N)?”

“No, I’m all good, Mercedes! Thank you for your help.”

“Dimitri.”

His jaw clenched tautly; his eyes crunched into a pain-stricken wince. Refusing to look at your scar, a harsh reminder of his failure.

“Look at me.”

He stilled and won’t budge to look at you.

“Dimitri...” You cupped his cheek in your hand, in which he immediately melted into.

“I love you, Dimitri.”

He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Thank you for this lovely evening, Dimitri.”

You pulled his hand to your lips and give each of his fingers soft kisses, gazing at him lovingly. Dimitri’s jaw and pants tightened, the poor King desperately clinging onto the last thread of sanity and reason which threatened to snap at any moment.

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem x reader #fe dimitri x reader #dimitri x reader #fluff #sfw #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #romance #angst #fire emblem smut #smut #dimitri smut

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romiithebirdie · 4 years ago

Text

From the Furthest Tether: Part Three

Harsh rainfall pelted down from the black sky above, fast droplets hitting Tomura Shigaraki's bare chest that exposed the faint scars littering across his body from the battle at Jaku. Narrowing a hardened scarlet eyes down at the decaying wreckage as he stood high and mighty in mid-air, courtesy of the Nomu who had transported him to Tartarus.

Bullets screeched through the air, some connecting with his skin and blasting his arm into a mangled, bloody mess as crimson liquid spilled over the smouldering brickwork. He barely flinched, immediately activating his Regeneration power that had saved his life on multiple occasions when he was facing the recently disgraced Pro Hero Endeavor.

Behind Father, he spread his chapped lips into a gleeful grin. Oh, how he hoped Endeavor was suffering both physically and mentally in the aftermath. He honestly couldn't wait for Round Two where he'd succeed in reducing the Flame Hero to nothing more than dust in the air.

Jumping from his Nomu's back, he casually strolled past the destruction while rejoicing under the loud blare of the prison alarms that howled out in a melancholic chorus. To the Guards and staff inside, they cowered in fear. But to Tomura Shigaraki? The unbearable sound marked the beginning of his deathgrip on the hero society.

Criminals poured from every entrance and window below his spot above them all, the tattered clothes covering the lower-half of his body billowed in between the whistling air and thick black smoke, like a flag flying high in the night sky.

Tomura's eyes wandered over the stampede, recognising Muscular and other villains crowding together as they beat back a futile stand by a few foolish Prison Guards. A cold shiver ran up his spine which seemed to spike his fury further as he slowly turned around, his senses overwhelming him under the image of All for One standing across the platform.

"Master…" the student rasped, suddenly feeling the urge to scratch at his neck. He glanced down at the body held in All for One's grip with little emotion, noting the small line of blood running from the guard's head.

His teacher began speaking to him, though Tomura could barely understand the words coming out of the villain's mouth as his ears filled with the sound of loud static. A possible reaction to their twin Quirks, perhaps?

"I told you…" Tomura's voice was rough, almost as if it was physically hurting him to speak, "That this is my body, my will, Master…"

"Hmm?" Japan's most feared man glanced down at Shigaraki like he was a small toddler. "You need rest, Tomura," his voice cooed, dripping with faux-warmth as he bared his teeth in a wide grin, "that regeneration Quirk will not work unless your body is at full health."

Don't talk down to me like I'm some weak little child!

Shigaraki's eyes flashed in rage, gnashing his teeth together at the large mocking smirk adjourning his teacher's face.

"I...I am not going to be your pawn," he growled out. Not anymore. He had his own goals, his own desires now.

"Oh?" All for One's grip on the eerily-unmoving guard's jacket tightened. "Now why would you think such a thing? No. To me, Tomura Shigaraki, you are an important successor."

The breathing apparatus floated in the air, held up by an invisible force as Japan's most feared man took another couple of steps towards his protege. "See how those below us desire to submit?" he asked, unfazed by the Tomura snarling at him like a feral animal that had been backed up into a corner. "This will be the story of how I become the greatest demon lord in existence."

His large hands then slowly reached out, akin to a puppetmaster controlling the strings of his lifeless, wooden marionettes…

Until Izuku's eyes shot open, cutting off a gasp which caught in his already-aching throat that felt as if somebody had their hands gripped around it with the intent to strangle him in his sleep.

His blurry vision registered the sickly white-coloured walls and scratchy sheets covering his body…

Ah, right.

He was in the hospital. Recovering from injuries that could- should have killed him back in Jaku. He leaned back against the singular pillow supporting the twinge in his neck.

Tick, tock.

Izuku glanced up at the clock across the room as it clicked back and forth in a monotonous motion. The window blinds of Izuku's ward had been put down, blocking out the strips of orange and red rays of sunlight that left the ward remaining a dark and sombre surround.

He reached forward and slowly picked up his phone that had been left on one of the plastic visitor chairs at his beside. Blinking tiredly with eyes that were heavy from lack of sleep, Izuku found himself slowly scanning over the screen of his mobile device. His thumb was brushing repeatedly over the cracked screen while it continued to illuminate his freckled face with a dull, bluish hue.

He swallowed thickly, still feeling the dizzying wave of nausea hit him every couple of minutes. The teen had been given a large amount of strong medication to minimize his body aches and the sharp throb of surgical stitches littered over his broken body. Izuku moaned to himself softly, muscles protesting the small movements as he slid his phone back on his bedside cabinet.

Since the previous night, he had barely heard from All Might. After his outburst in the middle of the hospital waiting area, he couldn't really blame the retired Pro from steering clear. Deep down, Izuku mused that the hospital staff possibly had more to do with the lack of visitation as it had taken a couple of nurses to return him to his ward the night prior. His mother had followed quietly behind the medical staff as they wheeled her son back towards his ward while trying to conceal her flowing tears.

She'd held his hand while Izuku was hooked back up to his IV, where another nurse had then quickly provided morphine. Whether it was just to help with the pain of his recovering injuries or played a part in settling him down, Izuku had no clue.

He glanced down at the cannula attached to his drip with a small whine, regardless of the hospital's reasoning, it had worked a treat last night and still had Izuku feeling like his head was full of cotton wool.

Izuku's phone buzzed atop the cabinet, the volume completely muted to prevent his head from pounding more than it was. Thankfully, his plump pillows gave him enough height to squint over at the name trying to reach him.

All Might.

Complete with a picture of the grinning Symbol of Peace that Izuku had screenshot from an interview stream several years ago. A bandaged hand gripped the phone and swiped across the screen to answer;

"Hello?"

"Ah, good morning, Young Midoriya!" even though Izuku couldn't see All Might's face, he could hear the smile that his mentor was forcing himself to wear. "How are you feeling?"

"Mm," Izuku shifted his legs through the thin bed sheets, legs tangled slightly as he flopped them down in defeat. He'd been way better but; "I'm getting there, thanks."

This response seemed to be enough to satisfy Toshinori from the other side of the phone line as he bobbed his head in a nodding motion before letting out a soft hum of agreement.

Izuku's eyes returned to his bedsheets, thin pupils scanning over the scratchy patterns running across the thin fabric while the retired Pro breathed heavily over the phone, the silence between them soon growing awkward as they both waited for the other to speak up again.

"So," Toshinori let his voice drag along the 'o' sound for a few moments before swallowing thickly, "any updates with the doctors?"

"Mhm, not really," Izuku switched hands, pushing the receiver against his other ear, "I think they're getting Recovery Girl in today."

Izuku hadn't been told that, he'd listened in on a conversation between hospital staff from outside his door. Not that All Might needed to know about his sudden interest in eavesdropping…

"So I think I'll be able to return to the dorms soon."

"Ah, good," Toshinori paused for a second. "Good…"

Izuku frowned, he recognised that tone.

"Is everything okay?"

He heard the hero splutter from the other end of the call, "E-Everything's fine, why wouldn't it be?"

Izuku's bandaged knuckles tightened around the phone, the plastic making small little cracking sounds of protest. Even without using his Quirk, Izuku's physical strength was more amplified due to his daily workout routine to maintain his Quirk-control.

"Well I-" Izuku's claw clicked shut. Could he bring up what he'd seen while he'd been asleep? Shigaraki and All for One...The villains breaking out of Tartarus… Was that even possible?

"Young Midoriya?"

"I saw more of the First User of One for All," Izuku belted out before he could stop himself. He wondered whether or not he should mention Nana Shimura being there too… Maybe it was better to tell All Might in person than over the phone?

"You did?" there was a small rustle in the background.

"But Shigaraki was there," Izuku chewed his lip before continuing; "And All for One."

"Oh?" Izuku cracked a dry smile at All Might's attempt to mask the concern in his voice. "How very...interesting."

"He could see me, All Might," both of Izuku's hands gripped the phone. "All for One."

"I see," there was a brief silence, the only sound coming from a soft buzz of phone static. "Do you recall anything that could have been said?"

Izuku winced, his chest tightening once again as All for One's cruel taunts forcefully entered back into his thoughts.

"No."

"Midoriya…" there was a slight edge to his mentor's voice and Izuku slumped his shoulders, sighing softly while still holding the phone in both hands. All Might knew he wasn't being truthful so what was the point in trying to hide it, aside from his own pride?

"He, uh," Izuku pushed his head against the wall that his bed lined up against, "mainly spoke to the First User but he saw me there and probably figured it'd be fun to mess with my head too."

Which could possibly explain the cause of his outburst last night and waking up from that weird haze-fuelled dream this morning. From everything that All Might had told him and the things he'd witnessed in the past, All for One was an extremely petty individual. For some reason, that scared the teen even more.

"What did he say?" All Might dreaded the answer, while Izuku dreaded reminding himself of All for One's hysterical tirade.

"Could we do this face to face?" Izuku whispered, bringing his knees up towards his chin and shrinking into himself. "Please?"

All Might was silent on the other end, biting his lip due to the fact that he had upcoming meetings with Tsukauchi and the Hero Commission over the recent events in Jaku. Endeavor was still unconscious but an investigation was already underway…

"Young Midor-"

"It's fine. I understand," Izuku swallowed thickly, understanding his mentor's silence. "It's just…"

"Hard?"

Izuku blinked, taking in air sharply from his nostrils, "Mhm," he shrugged, not caring that All Might wasn't able to see him do it, "his words...Struck a nerve, I guess?"

"Young Midoriya, whatever that monster said to you, do not let it deter you from the path you wish to take," All Might suddenly sounded furious. It made sense. All Might was the villain's nemesis, of course he'd know how Izuku was feeling. "He uses his words and power to emotionally shatter people, either to hurt them or to bend them to his own will. Do not let him succeed in doing that to you."

"I won't," Izuku answered, far too quickly for All Might's taste. The blond had a rough idea that he knew exactly what that bastard had said to his successor. After all, he himself had fallen victim to All for One's influence back in Kamino when he had dropped the bombshell that was Nana Shimura's legacy;

"Oh, surely you remember Tomura Shigaraki? My student?" the masked villain had goaded casually, as if he were simply discussing the weather to the Symbol of Peace. "He's Nana Shimura's grandson."

Toshinori had to admit that after hearing those words, he'd almost shattered upon impact, losing momentary composure in front of the demon opposite him. Thankfully, his mentor and father-figure had been there to keep him grounded and that was what Toshinori intended to do with Midoriya. Despairing was what that creature wanted and he wasn't sinking his claws into his student.

"Izuku, listen to me."

Izuku said nothing, prompting Toshinori to continue;

"You are my successor and the rightful owner of One for All. He wants you to feel this way, so that you'll be more likely to attempt to give up your Quirk willingly. Please remember that."

That...actually made sense, in a way.

Izuku knew the cruel taunts wouldn't leave his thoughts right away, but All Might had offered the teen comforting words that he'd needed to hear, as much as he was currently unaware of it.

"I will, All Might," the teen swallowed thickly, eyes prickling as he tried to force his tears back. "I promise."

"That's my boy," Izuku's heart squeezed hearing those words and this time, he allowed his tears to spill down his freckled cheeks. "I'll come and see you as soon as I can, deal?"

Gulping back a small shudder, Izuku's lips pressed into a wobbly smile, "Deal."

"I'll try and make time either this evening or tomorrow at the latest. You take care until then."

"Same to you too," Izuku breathed out shakily, "hey, All Might?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

Izuku swore he heard a soft chuckle before the phone was put down and his phone screen shut off. Setting it back on the cabinet, Izuku picked up the remote control to the television inside his ward. Perhaps some daytime television could lift his spirits?

Flicking through channels, he almost dropped the controller in surprise at the sight of a reporter clinging to the wide-open door of what Izuku assumed was a news helicopter that was hovering over a massive smoking island.

A smoking island that felt vaguely familiar to the teenager…

"-Seems to be a surveillance breach at this supposed maximum security prison!" the female reporter yelled over the loud chopping sound of helicopter rotors slicing through the rough sea wind. "Footage shows various villains fleeing the island, including Tomura Shigaraki, the young man who was the ringleader for the devastating attack in Jaku City!"

The remote slipped from his hands and clattered to the tiled floor, pieces of plastic scuttling across the ground along with the batteries that had flung out in opposite directions. One ending up rolling under a medical cabinet while the other hit one of the ward wall's skirting boards.

Tight knots began to curl tightly inside his own stomach as Izuku's pale face stared at the television in utter horror.

He hadn't been dreaming.

They were out. The villains. Probably including the ones Izuku had a hand in defeating.

Overhaul, Muscular, Stain...All for One.

"No, no, no," he whimpered. He couldn't take them on now, for God's sake he could barely move! His eyes moved back towards the cabinet and his hand reached back in the direction of where he had set his phone...

#ao3 bnha #bnha fanfiction #izuku midoriya #all might #dadmight #all for one #tomura shigaraki #dad for one #my hero academia fanfiction #my writing

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write-or-fly · 4 years ago

Text

~“Who’s there?“~

Summary: In fights some people win, some lose and some die. But before that they can also lose what they love the most..

Warnings: Death; Angst; gore (if that's the right word uwu)

Me: So I actually started this a looong time ago and am finally done uwu

Everything went fast. One moment we're all in class and the next everyone is in a heated fight against the League of Villains.

Villains left and right. It was hard to focus on only one. No, it was impossible for me.

"How did they get so many new members?" I mumbled to myself while kicking a villain in the stomach.

As soon as he flew against a wall I ran in the opposite direction. I saw someone, or rather another villain, walking off to. Probably to stay away from the fight. I sneaked behind them, trying a surprise attack.

They dodged it immediately and went behind me. I tried to turn around and attack again, but they grabbed my arms.

After that... all I felt was a pain. I screamed. I screamed a lot.

While I was screaming I thought about everything. It was like watching a summary of my life. My good, beautiful, and loved moments and my bad, sad moments.

I thought about my boyfriend... I don't want to hurt him. I wanted to fight. For him. But I couldn't.

Suddenly the pain was gone and I felt so free. Everything was black. I didn't know what happened. I was so confused.

"Come, child, we must go now." I heard a voice saying.

The black blurred away and slowly I could see again. I turned in the direction I heard the voice coming from. I saw a figure standing no- slightly floating above the ground. The figure looked like every picture book Death. I was beyond confused.

"What..?" I asked the figure, or more so Death. It just sighed.

"Come, child, we must go now." It repeated its sentence.

I looked at it with shock in my eyes. I began to understand everything that happened and looked around. I finally saw the villain that beat me.

It was none other than Shigaraki Tomura himself. And right beside him lied a body.

My body.

My eyes widened even more. "I... I died. This is the real Death." These were my thoughts.

Then I repeated Death's words in my head.

I gasped and turned to Death.

"Wait! No! Katsuki! I can't leave him yet!"

I couldn't possibly just die and leave him. I promised to be there for him!

After Death spoke again my eyes widened once more.

"Hm... It seems it's his time too. We shall wait."

"W-what?!"

Right after that, I saw Katsuki walking in our direction. Shigaraki was hiding, probably to give him a surprise attack.

"No! Katsuki, please go!" I screamed desperately.

"He can't hear you, child." Death told me.

"No..."

<3rd person POV>

As Bakugou walked away from the main fight, he followed a movement he saw.

He was very sure it was a villain, no doubt.

Bakugou looked around, but suddenly felt something cold and soft on his eyes.

He knew that feeling, he knew these usually warm and soft hands. Bakugou knew them because they are the hands of the person he cared for most.

They often did this to annoy him, but he secretly loved it. Of course, he couldn't say it, it would be embarrassing.

Bakugou felt relieved, but that feeling soon faded away after hearing the sound of a voice that wasn't the one he expected to hear.

"Who's there?" Shigaraki said, almost like a whisper.

After he said that he just laughed evilly at Bakugou.

Bakugou didn't know what to think. He was in shock. The only things he could think about were how this crusty freak could have your hands and if... if you're safe.

He somehow managed to turn around and face his enemy. Bakugou was scared. Never before had he been this scared. He tried not to show it, but his worry and fear were obvious.

Shigaraki wore a creepy grin on his face and gave Bakugou a good view of what he held in his hands.

After he saw what Shigaraki held his mind went blank. Every sound around him was muted for him. All he could hear was Shigarakis disturbing and ugly laugh. After the villain leader stopped laughing like mad he pointed to the side.

Bakugou hesitated, but eventually looked in the direction he pointed to.

Yes, it could've been another surprise attack or something, but Bakugou was still in too much shock to think properly. Worried about his love. He couldn't think about anything clearly, so he just did what he was expected to.

There a few meters away were you. Lying on the ground, pale and lifeless.

You were dead.

After looking at you Bakugou couldn't stop staring at you. He got lost in his thoughts. Frustrated that he didn't move or just did something to prevent that...

Did he keep pushing himself to his limits, just to fail like- like that?! How could he still believe he'll be the best? That he is the best...

Could he even call himself a hero, after he wasn't able to save the one he loves, the one that always believed in him..?

He was shaking. On his knees, because he couldn't keep himself on his feet. He was shaking that much.

Bakugou had a breakdown. But what would one expect after losing their love like this... He tried to stand, but couldn't. He was beaten. Bakugou noticed that Shigaraki started to laugh again, but only faintly. He was so lost in his thoughts.

You watched all of it. Never dared to look away. Crying loudly, only for the Death to hear.

They couldn't help, couldn't cheer him up. The only thing you were able to do was to watch. It was pure pain, but you didn't want to move on without him.

Shigaraki threw your hands at Bakugou, straight at his face.

Bakugou didn't react. It was like he was an empty shell. The only thing he did was staring at the pair of hands of his love, that was laying before him.

"We should go now, child. It will only pain you more to watch what is about to happen. Please move on." said Death with concern and worry to you.

As you responded, you didn't even look at him. You could only stare at Bakugou, your love.

"I can't possibly go now! It will be painful, yes. But I want to be there for him... Even at the end." you almost screamed at Death.

"You truly have a kind soul, child. We shall keep waiting, but you won't be happy in the end."

Bakugou sat still on the ground, while you were conversing with Death.

Slowly Shigaraki walked towards him, totally enjoying the moment, the desperate and sad expression on Bakugous face.

He grabbed Bakugous throat and gave it a hard squeeze. Bakugou just cried not even fighting to get air to his lungs. He stole one last look at your dead body before he only felt pain and closed his eyes.

After only a few seconds he felt the pain go away. Confused he hesitantly opened his eyes. There he saw himself lying dead on the ground and a laughing Shigaraki walking away from it.

"Katsuki!" you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Bakugou couldn't trust his ears. He slightly turned to the side and saw you.

He saw your ghost. You both were dead...

You ran towards him still crying. What you didn't notice: you started to fade away.

Your love opened his arms for you so you could give him one of your usual bear hugs. He now wore a relieved smile. It was sad but he was happy to see you at least here, in the afterlife.

But before you could even reach him your vision started to get blurry again. Everything turned white and you felt free again.

You felt relieved, but noticed something: you couldn't say goodbye. Not even a word.

After a few seconds you felt sleepiness slowly get to you. And so you fell asleep for the last time with tears in your eyes. Words going through your mind you couldn't recognize anymore.

"I said so, child. I'm sorry."

#sry for any mistakes or if it is bad owo #bakugou angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #fanfic #bnha fanfic #bakugou x you #angst

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Where you should be

8. Thantophobia

Today is a crazy and disappointing day in the US. To all my friends, whether in the states or outside, stay safe. 🤟🏼

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 4.1k

Thantophobia (n.) the phobia of losing someone you love

I have a few poignant regrets in my life. One of them is rejecting Hoseok over a year ago.

The other is sitting right in front of me.

“Why are you frowning?” Jihun asks me as he downs another glass of whine. “I thought I told you that we were celebrating tonight.”

My wine remains untouched on the coffee table before me, and I make to no to drink it. “Get out of my apartment.”

Jihun shakes his head at me, looking disappointed. “Is that really the way to speak to an old friend?”

“In what world are we friends?”

“Do you really not remember me?”

I huff, sitting on the very edge of the couch and trying my best to hide my phone that I’ve set beside me. “You hardly seem worth remembering.”

Jihun’s nostrils flare as he leans forward. “Now the truth comes out,” he coos. “Did you know that I’ve also had a few friends keeping tabs on your boyfriend?”

I freeze, staring at him in disbelief. “What?”

“They’re there right now, actually. I’ve been receiving updates from them all night…” he takes his phone out to glance at the screen, a wide smile playing across his features. “It looks like Hoseok just arrived at home. I wonder where he was? With you, perhaps?”

I find that I’m unable to answer him, too afraid of what’s about to happen next. Jihun seems to know this, chuckling at my reaction as he scrolls through his phone.

“Oh, you know what could be fun?” He tilts his head to the side, almost replicating Hobi’s endearing habit for a moment, putting a dark twist to it. “Answer me, Ha-rin.”

“What,” I whisper. It’s enough for now.

“In my agreement with Bang Si-hyuk, he made me agree to not release any of the photos I worked so hard to collect to the public. He also had a few other conditions, however I was interested to see just how much he stressed that no actions that could lead to physical harm be taken against the two of you.”

My blood chills as Jihun smiles, looking for all the world like there’s no place he’d rather be than right here, threatening me.

“You can’t harm us,” I breathe out, the bite in my words lost in my fear.

Jihun shrugs. “True. But I was never told that we couldn’t have a little fun with Hoseok’s house, was I?” My heart begins to pound as Jihun looks back down at his phone, completely relaxed. “It’s not my fault if he’s inside it when it happens.”

Suddenly I’m seeing red, bolting off the couch and sprinting for the door. “What are you going to do?!” I scream, tearing the door open and staring back at Jihun who hasn’t moved an inch. “What are you-”

“I already did my part.” Jihun says, stretching before getting on his feet. Prowling toward me like a cat, he gives me a toothy grin as he sidles out the door. “Now we just have to wait.”

I shove past him, taking off down the hallway. Barefoot, eyes wide, and panting as I sprint toward the elevator. As I pound the button over and over, I hear Jihun’s voice from behind me.

“What are you going to do about it? Take the bus?” Placing a hand on my shoulder, he gives a contented sigh as the elevator doors slide open almost as though at his own beck and call. “It’ll be too late, by then, darling.” He glides into the elevator, turning around to give me a mock salute before punching the buttons. As the doors close, Jihun frowns at me.

“You should have left him alone, he would have been much better off.”

I stare at the closed doors for a few seconds, my brain short-circuiting as my heart pounds out of my chest. Think Ha-rin, think.

Remembering my phone that I still have in my hands, I bring it up to my ear.

“Do-yun-”

“I’m almost at his house. Stay inside. Hajoon should be there shortly.”

“But-”

“Inside.”

Practically crawling back to my apartment, I’m barely able to open the door before my knees crash into the ground.

I had called Do-yun as soon as I saw Jihun, hoping that he was listening to every word. Clearly he was, but Jihun’s words swirl around my head as I crumble in on myself.

It’s not my fault if he’s inside it when it happens.

You should have left him alone.

We’re celebrating tonight!

I was wrong to defend him in front of Bang Si-hyuk. Now, instead of playing his tedious games of money and photos, I’m on my knees waiting for the headline to cross my phone. I can picture it so clearly in my head.

Jung Hoseok - dead in an explosion

J-hope dead at the hands of love

World star ‘j-hope’ found dead in his apartment - is Sunny behind this?

“Sunny?”

I bolt up to my feet, throwing myself at the intruder. “Get out! Leave!”

Two strong arms trap my arms against my body, and I look up through blurry eyes to see Hajoon staring down at me with a clenched jaw.

Suddenly I’m collapsing against him, sobbing into his jacket as I say the same thing over and over again.

“Hobi…”

“Do-yun was nearly there when I last checked in with him.”

I shake my head. “It’s too late.”

“Too late?”

Jihun’s words plummet into my brain like ammunition. “Too late. I should h-have left him alone. It’s all my- my fault.”

I can feel Hajoon shaking his head above me. “That’s not true, Sunny. Don’t believe what that freak said. He was just trying to get under your skin.”

I go to speak again, but Hajoon’s phone begins to ring. Jumping away from him like I just saw a ghost, I watch as he turns serious, angrily wiping my tears away as though they’ll obstruct my hearing.

“Yes sir...I’m here…” He listens for a long moment, nodding. “Ok. Would you like me to contact anyone?”

My stomach drops to my toes. Hajoon quickly finishes the phone call, turning to see my fallen expression.

“Do-yun said to bring you over to Hoseok’s place.”

My eyes widen. “I-is he alright?”

Hajoon grabs my coat from off the rack and nudges my shoes toward me. I hurry to put them on. “Do-yun is clearing the area for any sign of a threat.”

Not an answer.

“But is Hoseok alright?”

Hajoon opens the door wide for me, giving me a confused look. “Of course.”

♟

The drive to Hobi’s apartment is excruciating. I’ve sent him about a million texts and attempted to call him a couple of times, but no answer.

“You did the right thing,” Hajoon gingerly says. He keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead, but I know that he’s wondering if I’m about to start sobbing again. “You remained calm for as long as you could, and gave us valuable information. If you hadn’t called Do-yun-”

“Hajoon.”

He sighs. “Alright.”

By the time we’re pulling up to where he lives, I’m nearly hyperventilating. As I see his house still in one piece and the lights on inside, I let out a sob of relief.

Hajoon has barely had time to throw the car into park before I’m launching myself out of the car, flying up the stairs and tearing open the door.

Do-yun stands talking with Hoseok, who jumps at my sudden entrance.

“H-Hoseok,” I gasp. “I’m so s-sorry-” I rush inside, running straight to him as he opens his arms.

“I’m ok,” he soothes, shooting Do-yun a concerned look over my shoulder. “Breathe, Rin-ah. I’m ok.”

I shake my head, burying myself into Hobi’s shoulder as I cling to him. “No, this wouldn’t have happened if-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Hobi mutters, already reading my mind.

“But-”

“Do-yun, thank you for coming.” Hobi effectively dismisses the bodyguard, slinging his arm around me and pulling me in farther to the apartment. “Did you need anything else, or…?”

“No, no. We’ll just take one last look at the area and call it a night.”

Do-yun’s footsteps echo around the small common area as he heads toward the door, calling out to Hajoon as he opens the door.

I remain in Hobi’s arms while we listen to their muted conversation outside, shaking like a leaf as Hobi tries to calm me down.

“I’m so sorry, Rin-ah,” he mumbles. “I can’t imagine how you must have felt.”

A part of me crumbles at his sincere words, pulling back enough to look up at him with a sorrowful look. “Hobi, this is my fault. I-I thought that you were-”

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling me back into his arms. “You’re exhausted and in shock. How about you take a shower? I’ll grab some clothes for you.”

I blink up at him. “But I need to go home.”

Hobi smiles softly at me, looking at me like I just asked him why the world orbits the sun. “Stay. Just for tonight.”

Grumbling the entire way to the shower, I watch Hoseok’s every move as he brings me some spare clothes, giving me a fresh towel and instructing me on everything that has to do with the shower, almost as though I’ve never used one before.

I keep quiet, not having it in me to tease him about it right now. Not when I’m still struggling to keep it all together.

I could have lost him tonight.

That’s the thought that keeps me company as I stand under the shower, making no move to do anything else. The white tile I’m staring at laughs as me as I try to calm down, but everytime I close my eyes I’m suddenly back at my apartment, standing barefoot in the hallway and completely unable to help the person I love.

If I can’t protect him, should I even be allowed to have him?

I finally manage to get enough energy to wash my hair and body as quickly as possible, spurred on by the same thought as before. I could have lost him.

Turning the shower off and wiping the steam off of the mirror, I stare at my reflection. My makeup which I forgot to take off before showering is running down my cheeks, making my eyes look just as terrifying as I feel at the moment. Scrubbing hard at my face, I listen to the sounds of Hobi moving about the house. A part of me relishes in the fact that I’m here tonight, with him. Especially after so long of not being able to see each other for more than a few hours at a time. It’s been...over a year since I was last here.

Once my face is shiny and clean, I release a long breath. I’m still on edge, but now I’m starting to feel the exhaustion seeping in. From today’s meeting with its tense atmosphere, to creating the new track and now this, it’s been a long day.

“Hobi?” I call out quietly as I step out into the hallway, hissing at the sudden cold now that I’m out of the bathroom.

“In the kitchen!”

Making my way to the kitchen I glance at a few of the new decorations he’s put up. There’s one small painting in particular that I don’t remember being here before, and I pause to look at it.

“Did you get lost?” Hoseok’s arms wrap around my shoulders as he asks the questions, making me nearly jump out of my skin. He laughs, pressing a kiss to my hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I mumble, pointing to the painting. “This wasn’t here before.”

“Ah. You haven’t been here in a while.” Pulling me backward, he steers me toward the kitchen. “I made some chamomile. Shall we drink some tea and head to bed?”

“Mmm.”

He chuckles, taking the kettle off the stove. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I watch his lithe fingers as they take two mugs out of the cupboard, the tea steaming as he pours until they’re filled to the brim. Sliding the mug toward me he waits until I’ve grabbed it and hold it in my hands before he turns to clean up.

“I sent Do-yun to your apartment complex to find Jihun’s ex.” Hobi’s back is to me, rinsing off some dishes in the sink as he speaks. “Hopefully she’ll be able to give us some way to find him.”

My eyes widen. “What are they going to do with him?”

Hobi looks at me over his shoulder, his face grim. “Rin-ah, they’re going to arrest him. He’s threatened us openly, and we were foolish enough to think that he’d be satisfied with the money offer. He’s insane. He won’t stop once his pockets are lined.”

Gazing down at my tea, I sigh. “Good.”

Hoseok gives me a surprised gaze. “You were just defending him this morning to Bang PD.”

“I simply wanted him to be handled like a normal person,” I defend. “And this is how normal people should be treated. He’s...scary, and threatening the safety of others. So good. I’m so tired…” I trail off, planting my face in my hands. “I’m so tired of all of this.”

The sound of a stool scraping against the floor alerts me to Hobi sitting across from me. He makes no moe to pull my attention away or make me look at him, instead just opting to be there with me.

“I know.”

There isn’t much else to be said as we slowly drink our tea, staring off into the distance with our heavy thoughts. I wonder what he’s thinking as Hobi’s eyes become clouded with worry.

I don’t get a chance to ask. “You should head to bed,” Hobi whispers into the silence. I nod, slipping off the stool and taking my mug to the sink. “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” He mumbles, gently pulling me away.

“I can wash my dish, Hobi,” I grumble. He shakes his head.

“I know, but it’s my house. Let me wash it. You go to sleep.” We walk down the hallway to the guest room, and the second I enter it I’m drowning in a flood of memories and emotions. If I squint, I’m sure I can see my past self staring up at the ceiling with so much regret.

A glance at Hobi’s face shows me that he’s also remembering what happened the last time we were in this room. For a moment he reverts back to that wounded self, hardly daring to look at me in the eye as he turns down the bed and turns on the bedside lamp. I watch him from the doorway, halfway between a smile and a frown.

“You should be set,” Hobi says with his hands on his hips. “Do you need anything else before I head to bed?”

“I think I’m fine. Thank you,” I say, striding over to him wrapping my arms around his middle. I smile softly as Hoseok sighs in relief, running his hands up and down my arms.

“I love you.”

Those three words uttered from his lips are like ambrosia to my senses, and I relax enough to lean up to brush my lips against his. “I love you.”

♟

I’m back to staring at the ceiling. A glance at my phone has me groaning; it’s only 12:30. Why does it feel like I’ve been laying here for years?

Despite my exhaustion, I can’t stand to close my eyes. My heart begins to pound and suddenly I’m breaking out into a cold sweat as I imagine over and over again different scenarios which all have one thing in common: losing Hobi.

It’s when I’ve had a mini melt down for the fifth time that I swing my legs out of bed, feet finding my slippers in the dark. Padding silently to my door, I open it to find the hallway completely dark.

I keep one hand on the wall as I wander about the apartment, trying to find Hobi’s room in the dark. As I round a corner and see a faint light coming out from under his door, I sigh. It looks like I’m not the only one still awake.

I stand outside of his door for too long, contemplating whether I should just leave him alone and go back to bed, but looking back at the dark hallway I find that I’m too scared to turn back now. The thought of Jihun waiting in the shadows to pounce out at me has me gently cracking the door open, peeking inside Hobi’s room.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt. He doesn’t notice my arrival, keeping his face hidden behind his hands as he takes steadying breaths.

My voice is small as I call out to him. “Hobi?”

Hobi’s head shoots up at my voice, his eyes wide as they land on my figure in the doorway. “Rin-ah, what’s wrong?”

Chewing on my lip like it can save me from embarrassment, I tiptoe into his room until I’m sitting beside him on the bed, clinging to the edge with white knuckles.

“Can I stay in here tonight?”

I didn’t think it was possible for Hobi’s eyes to get any wider, but I’m proven wrong as he slowly nods, his eyes nearly popping out. After a few seconds he finally composes himself, letting out a long breath. “Of course you can. Can’t sleep?”

He sits back against the headboard, gesturing for me to follow. “No,” I admit, coming to sit beside him.

“Come here, I’ll play with your hair.”

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears as I lay my head on his lap, my eyes immediately falling shut as he begins to run his fingers through my hair. It’s quiet, the sound of our breathing the only noise as I’m pulled closer and closer to sleep.

My hand curls around Hobi’s free hand, instinctively holding onto him as his fingers dip down to trace the lines of my face. I’m half asleep when I hear Hobi’s low rumble, hardly able to understand what he’s saying at first.

“...had a hard day. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” He traces my jaw, coming up to my cheekbone. “But you’re so brave, Rin-ah. I should tell you this when you’re actually awake, huh? But if you’re somehow listening to me in your dreams, I want you to know that I think you’re so brave. It’s one of the reasons I love you. You’re my brave, beautiful, quick-witted Rin-ah.”

The bed shifts as Hobi slides to lay down on the bed, my nearly unconscious self hardly noting the movement. He keeps me close, his breath fanning my face as we lay on our sides. His finger traces the slope of my nose one last time before pressing a light kiss to my forehead.

“I got that new painting about...eight months ago?” His voice is soft, lulling me closer to sleep. “It reminded me of you. And for some reason I thought that I needed that. I needed to be reminded of what I lost.” He sighs, the sound weighing on my heart. “I needed to look at that every day and remember what I lost so I would know to cherish it if I ever got a second chance.”

The bed dips and shifts as Hobi rolls to his back, maintaining the grip that I still have on his hand and pulling it up to lay on his chest.

He turns off the lamp, delving us into darkness. “I love you. Always have, always will.”

♟

When I wake up it’s not because the sun is up or because my dreams have driven me awake; it’s because somebody’s holding my hand.

One eye slides open to see Hobi lying beside me, back on his side and my hand still wrapped around his. His hair is a mess, sticking up in different directions and his lips form a pout that I think can only be described as adorable.

I’m in the middle of marveling at how wonderful it is to wake up beside him when the memory of the events of last night barrels into me at full speed.

If things had gone south last night…

It’s that thought that has me taking a deeper look at the man beside me, noting the worry lines and remembering how he sat with his head in his hands last night when I came in, looking for all the world like he was seconds away from a mental breakdown. The thought I had last night re enters my mind unbidden.

If I can’t protect him, am I even allowed to keep him?

Looking across the room to the window I can tell that behind the curtains the world is still dark. It reflects my dark thoughts as Jihun’s voice drifts back to me.

“You should have left him alone, he would have been much better off.”

Brushing back a strand of hair from Hobi’s forehead, I feel the tears pricking as I memorize how he looks right now.

“So beautiful,” I whisper.

Slipping my hand from his and watching how he frowns and grabs the blanket in my absence, I get off the bed as quietly as possible.

The rest is easy. Changing into yesterday’s clothes and grabbing my phone, I leave a note on the fridge. I’m nearly to the door when I stop myself.

I have so rarely been selfish when it comes to Hoseok. I’ve always tried my best to remember that everything has a price, and it’s not one that we’re both willing to pay. We’ve worked too hard to get to where we are now to throw it all away.

Saying yes to him a few weeks ago was the most selfish I’ve been, but it was worth it. For a moment, the pros outweighed the cons. So, continuing for a moment longer in that selfishness, I sneak back down to his room, peeking inside to where he’s still asleep.

His back is turned to me, he hasn’t moved from his previous position. Sighing to myself, I watch as he breathes, still in the throes of sleep. Peaceful.

I hesitate a few seconds longer before heading back to where my shoes were kicked off beside the door. Glancing at the painting of downtown Seoul with a bus in the background, I close the door as quietly as possible.

♟

Sending off the text and attached files to Pdogg, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and wince at the weight. Between the backpack and the duffle bag I’m carrying, I’m definitely getting my workout in.

I double check the slip of paper in my hand, hoping that I’m not too late. Announcements are being made over the PA, but they’re not loud enough to drown out the sound of my phone ringing nonstop. I drop my dufflebag to silence my phone, giving an apologetic look to the people around me.

In the end, there was one comment that Jihun made that actually made sense to me.

“What are you going to do, take the bus?”

A dark bus appears in the distance and people begin to line up to board. I join the line, squinting to make sure that this is the right one. When the bus lights up with the words Daegon/Daegu/Busan I roll my shoulders in preparation for the long ride.

Out of habit I keep my head down, praying that nobody here will recognize me from work. If Bighit managed to catch wind of my plans that quickly, I’d be impressed. But I doubt that they’ll realize what I’ve done until later.

If only Hoseok would stop calling me, that would make it all so much easier.

A young man smiles at me as he politely offers to help me with my bags. I let him store my duffel bag below the bus, opting to keep my backpack with me.

Only a few minutes later we’re rolling out of the station. My eyes take in the sights and sounds of Seoul, aching as I see the Bighit building in the distance.

“Where are you heading?” A chipper young girl asks beside me. “I’m going to Daegon to spend the week with my grandma. Are you visiting family?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, my eyes watching the Bighit building until it’s out of sight. “No, I’m moving.”

“Really? You don’t have a lot of things if you’re moving. Where are you moving to?”

I finally get a good look at her, almost laughing when she’s wearing a BTS shirt. Life is cruel.

“Me? Busan.”

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taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @diorhoba @eusticenatalie @ddaeng-i-need-help

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snacc-noir · 5 years ago

Text

Unseal and Reveal

You may remember @jattendschaton‘s amazing idea for Chat and Lb writing their identities in envelopes for emergency reasons, then I added, what if Nathalie finds it hidden in Adrien’s room and assumes it was attached to a romantic gift, leading them to think Marinette was his girlfriend and confronting Adrien about it-

and yes it was a while ago and yes it’s been written but I couldn’t not write a dramatic addition myself, so now with permission from the idea op, i will present basically the crack version

( @hermionemonica @lady-charinette @aremmen @laadychat y’all got it but you’re getting it again)

Her idea sounds affable at the start.

Notice: her idea.

Ladybug’s.

(He’s just putting that out there before anything starts.)

The new guardian is pacing on rooftops, pen smartly rolling between fingers even though she’s focussed on nothing of it. She’s mulling, debating, as if they hadn’t agreed to this lawed debauchery five minutes ago. It’s not even bad, he knows, and although the thrill has set a kind of buzz under his skin, Chat’s not exactly worried.

He never is, is he?

The paper smiles at him where he’s relaxing, the paper that will soon have her name. There’s an odd temptation to put the untouched stack in his mouth. Maybe he’s tired of waiting, or maybe he just really wants the paper. Maybe it’s a cat thing.

“And we can’t let anyone see the envelopes.”

“Well, duh,” he says, as if he’s sure that’s not going to happen.

“Hide it. Keep it safe, don’t, uh, don’t open it unless—”

“You trust me, right M’lady?”

Her hand crunches the pen. A sigh. “More than anyone.”

She’s nervous, of course; no one is supposed to know either of their identities, and here they are planning to materialise them. But it’s for the best, they reason, with her being guardian and having no one to know who she is in case of a dire emergency.

Emergency, he reminds himself. Only in an emergency. In fact, it’s likely for nothing. He doesn’t want there to be an emergency, and he doesn’t want that to be how he finds her identity, but he also doesn’t want to never know the name sealed in the scarlet envelope.

When she finally sits, she scribbles on the pink paper, guarding even the movement of her hands by hiked knees. Chat takes time writing his message, dotting smiles and pictures when she’s already up to licking the paper as if the more salvia guarantees more seal.

Reluctantly, she passes it.

The first week, Adrien glances at the spot behind his CD rack at least twice a day.

Three months, then four, and he’s slim to completely forgetting he has access to the love of his life’s identity – the best superhero in Paris, the most beautiful and competent woman in the world, the—

“Adrien. Your father requests a serious discussion in the atrium.”

And her identity is especially forgotten the afternoon he realises his may be on the line.

Nathalie finds a red letter in the masked cabinet of Adrien’s CD shelf two minutes after believing this whole “catch why Adrien’s disappearing” thing would uncover nothing. When designing the Agreste mansion, it seems Gabriel’s request for secretive spots in his future offspring’s room to catch them hiding admonishments in later years succeeded in the very end.

Because this is far too suspicious not to take back.

A pink note inside, a scrawl of a feminine name within hearts. Addressed, “to the best partner ever”, and alarmingly cryptic. No other message. Possibly, it could’ve attached to a romantic gift.

Gabriel Agreste knows exactly what it means.

“Adrien.”

His voice is ice as always. His face is unreadable as always – though Adrien’s found guessing “disappointed” proves correct eighty percent of the time. So although the poor boy is dying for some indication that his father has not found out he is Chat Noir, there is nothing to pick up from the scene: Gabriel’s passive, and Nathalie, as always, stands a bit off with a face almost the same – like a sibling that’s ratted another out and is mirroring the scolding authority, even to the way her arms are behind her.

Adrien swallows.

“Fathe—”

“How long did you believe you could keep your impractical relationship with Marinette Dupain-Cheng from members of this household?”

Uh…

…

Um.

Frankly, Adrien’s never been more confused in his life.

Excuse him,

But what?!

Adrien’s alarmed, squinting, and even the hounding worries pause to make sure they’ve heard right as Nathalie pulls her hand into view.

Marinette. Relationship. Him. No mention of Chat Noir.

Yeah… what?

“What do y—”

His eyes leap. Nathalie’s hand.

The envelope.

Red, unsealed, and far too familiar.

Adrien stills.

“I don’t tolerate this insulting feign ignorance. Explain this immediately.”

“Explain…”

How his mouth even does that baffles him – not like he could physically be any more baffled, but if he could, any words that could manage out his gaping face would’ve increased his puzzlement.

Marinette.

The Dupain-Cheng Marinette.

Her name was already bouncing in his head the second his father phrased an incredulous question that implied he’s dating her—his sweet and adorable and talented good friend—but you know, now—

Now.

Well, now he kind of wishes he is.

Identity. Ladybug. Envelope. Marinette.

The card is faced so he can read the confirmation of his last suspicions. He’s too close to pretend it’s too blurry to read, even to himself, so the startlement of his eyes catch every, single, scribble – every word, every letter, every heart.

‘To the best partner ever.’

And beside a dash, trying to look like the smallest signage ever, is franticly scrawled,

‘Marinette Dupain-Cheng.’

Oh no.

“Why do you appear happy?”

Happy? Uh, no, no! This is awful.

“I’m not happy.”

“You’re clearly smiling.”

He totally isn’t.

“I’m not!”

“Adrien, you seem on the verge of tears.”

He stifles a fist on his mouth. “What?”

“You seem like you’re about to burst,” Nathalie probes.

His father runs him over with a cold look. “Amused, Adrien? Is this matter pleasing you?”

No way! This– This is terrible.

Atrocious even! He knows Ladybug’s identity!

“I’m devastated,” he says, eyes wet and grin hurting.

Ladybug’s identity.

His fist hurts his mouth. A small noise fissures behind his hands.

“Did you– Did you just squeal?”

“Absolutely not!”

This is, truly, the worst news.

“Enough of these games, Adrien! You have disobeyed your authorities with all this tomfoolery and damaged how you excel in your extracurriculars. This secret affair is to be terminated, unless you can explain. If you can even recover this, that i—are you crying?”

To be fair, he didn’t mean to break down in sobs, but you know he feels no one can blame him understanding all that is happening right now. Plus, it’s more a dignified silent weeping (if you ignore how he’s practically vibrating) amongst muted chokes.

“I’m not, Father.” He wipes his face, hoping it takes his grin off too. (It doesn’t. Nothing can.) “Continue.”

Gabriel clears his throat. Nathalie’s still holding the note, not sure what to do with Adrien, whether it be… no, comforting’s never been an option.

“Can you reason this affiliation?”

“That I’m dating Marinette?”

Gabriel nods, his face souring.

Adrien realises that, although there’s technically many things he can do and say, he doesn’t have a clue what. His options seem… pretty inexistent. So he narrows his criteria down:

1. He has to say he’s dating Marinette.

(Pretty easy, that wishful lie is already established.)

2. He must make sure he stays dating Marinette.

But then he realises he’s freaking Chat Noir and lying to save identities is pretty much most of job.

“She tutors me. Ever since you were disappointed in my A- in Maths, she’s helped me in most subjects so I wouldn’t drop grades in them as well, so we started hanging out more and, well one thing lead to another…” He rubs his neck. “She makes me happy, Father. I was falling behind because I haven’t been too happy since Mum left, and Marinette, she, well,”

He beams, shiny-eyed and damp-cheeked. “She’s made me feel happy again.”

Ha, not even his Grinch-of-a-dad can say no to that.

Reason, sentiment, hitting the soft spot with mum? – yeah, that was good.

His father’s gaze is calculating, and if emotion ever touches him, it may have flickered in his eyebrows, but it smooths like steal.

Nathalie glances at her boss.

“Is that so?” Gabriel muses. “I… can see what even the mention of her can bring you to. This must have been… some gift attached.” The way he gives him a once-over should make Adrien feel embarrassed, not chuffed, but it does.

Gabriel thinks for seconds longer. The space in the Agreste atrium burns with tense anticipation that stretches Adrien’s sense of time.

His father steps down and places a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Continue to the tutoring if it picks up your grades. But monitor how much you sneak around, and try not to let schoolwork distract you from extracurriculars too much.”

And just like that, Gabriel Agreste is—

“One more thing. Nathalie, book me an appointment. I see it that Marinette Dupain-Cheng will soon be attending a dinner.”

–Causing Adrien more problems.

Thaaaat’s right. Proving the lie. With Marinette.

With Ladybug.

With Marinette!

“Eeep!”

Nathalie jolts her gaze to him, panic set in her flamed eyes as he stares back awkwardly.

“I’ll– I’ll go call her.”

After he screams a million times, of course.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #identity reveal #adrienette #ladynoir #em writes #thanks to op for giving permission to post it separate!

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