#and some sort of confused fear that he'll somehow see him that way too or SOMETHING IDK FFDSJ

[bcneheaded]

"Hush, now. I've got you." (oh how the turn tables, old skellybones ;P)

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 “𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮” 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 (with @winterfollows !)

Long, bony fingers are plucked with the utmost care from within their blood-soaked gloves-- once a pristine white-- the material catching stubbornly. Coat long since discarded, the sleeves no doubt ruined-- he stands rather despondently by the guest-room's bathroom sink, Haleir at his side. Determined for some reason or another to help in ridding him of the ghastly crimson that spattered most of his arms and upper body. A creature. A mindless abomination roamed the streets, causing chaos among the area and striking fear into its inhabitants. It could not be allowed to live and infect the city. So he killed it. It was.. perhaps a tad more difficult than he'd anticipated, and as such, he may have gotten a little frustrated by it. But in all fairness... in all his time, he had never encountered one of these. He did not know they exploded upon death. He does now. Had he the key components of doing so, surely he'd have retched when the half-digested blood of the creature's victims sprung from it's swollen belly and spattered his attire. Hot and rancid in feel, even upon his tar. And now he was here. Had it been that the other had already been at the shop, wondering where Artemis had been-- only to be shocked at the sight of the poor, reeking sap walking through the door? Perhaps so. But now... He takes Artemis' bare hand in his and sponges clean the stickiness from the bones and tar as gently as one would for a Living. And for a long moment as he stares down at their hands, he finds himself... confused. Why was he so gentle with a creature such as he? Yellow eyes languidly wander up to meet Hal's gaze in the mirror before glancing back down at the mess upon his button-up shirt; red and black alike soaked through the material. Audibly, he tuts; silently admonishing himself for ruining so much of his tailor's fine work. And when Hal looks at him, for the first time in.. perhaps a little too long, he speaks again. "Truly," he tries one more time, not nearly as convincing as he'd been the first couple tries. "you needn't... I can clean myself." A long pause, and he sighs quietly, eyes falling back to Hal's hands, pale as porcelain compared to his own. "You'll... dirty yourself with tar--" he tries, pushing once more, voice barely but a croak. "It's... difficult to wash off."

[mothofmyth]

Steve Harrington is lost. He's trapped in the upside down. Alone. Because of fucking course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Still, at least it's not one of the kids or something.

Then again...

At least the kids know shit like morse code, and they're smart enough to figure out how to communicate topside. Steve's just sitting here, miserably staring at the vines with his plank (he misses his baseball bat, this rotting old timber was all he could find on short notice).

Sometimes he hears little bursts of voices from the real world. Hears fucking Munson and his godawful noise-music that gave Steve headaches BEFORE all of the head trauma. And actual trauma.

But all he can find in this dump is a walkman and a two-way radio. He's tried talking into the radio an embarrassing number of times, to no avail. He doesn't know if the damned thing even has batteries in it.

He can't communicate. He can't get back home. He's just... stuck.

He's just about given up on ever getting home; ever even seeing another living person again.

When he hears Munson again.

He's just talking to himself, muttering about his latest campaign or something. Steve doesn't really care, he's just grateful to hear someone's voice other than his own.

He tries recording it, so he can listen to human speech whenever he wants, but he grabs the radio by mistake.

Munson stops talking. The air becomes thicker, somehow tension seeps across the dimensions.

"Hello?" Munson sounds concerned - afraid, even.

Steve's eyes snap wide open.

"Hello?! Hey, Munson? Can you hear me?" He shouts into the musty air, careless of the monsters waiting outside the paper-thin walls of his hideout.

"Fucking losing it, Munson." Eddie mutters to himself, seemingly without hearing the call.

Steve tries the radio again, shouting into it, begging to be heard. No luck.

He sighs, assuming some miserable coincidence gave him a tiny crumb of false hope, and drops to the floor.

He grabs the walkman, resigning himself to listening to faint recordings of Eddie fucking Munson's voice for the rest of his short, sad life. He hits record and lays in silence, listening to Eddie until he falls silent.

Steve winds back the tape, listening for whatever he's captured. It's bad quality, but that's certainly Munson's voice, raving about dragons and other nerd shit. He'll take it.

Some time passes and Steve's got the tape playing aloud while he's toying with the radio again. This time, Eddie hears it.

He reacts with surprise and fear and confusion. He's hearing his own voice, distant and crackling, coming from nowhere in particular. Of course he's fucking terrified that's some mimic ass shit.

Some sort of monster, lurking in the dark, trying to lure him to it with his own voice.

Steve, of course, realises that for some fucked-up reason, the radio works to connect him to the other side, but it only hears the fucking walkman.

Steve spends weeks trying to communicate with Eddie by playing his own speech back to him, writing a full glossary of words he's got at his disposal with time stamps for where on the cassette he needs to play to express them.

He finally convinces Eddie to listen by playing "help" "me" "it's" "big" "boy" any time he hears Eddie's presence.

He sometimes catches snippets of Wayne, too, and throws some of his words into the mix as well.

Just the innate horror of being able to communicate but only through another's words, of hearing something strange and other speak to you with your own voice, cut and clipped and tonally all wrong for the context.

Something uncanny. Something familiar yet not. Something dark and serious and frightening.

The nature of danger and bravery and fear and innovation.

They muddle through together, and when Steve is finally, FINALLY rescued he ofc holds Eddie so tight the poor boy can't BREATHE but he doesn't care because it's over and they're both safe.

Eddie holding him in return because it's REAL and he thought he might be losing his mind for a hot minute there.

[vermillionadvent]

There's something horribly wrong when the dragon regains consciousness. First, the curious nature as to how he'd fallen unconscious in the first place ⎛ although Lu Woh scolded him often for simply pushing his human avatar to its limits- hadn't he learned from his challenge to the Singularity? Maybe that was it ⎠ and second, why he'd found himself in such a sad place.

Deep down, he knows that what he sees is not how things would usually be. Not because of any divine power, but simply for the bizarre fusion of horrors all around him. He also knows that something in him is missing- he doesn't feel quite right. He's able to light a familiar flame in his hand, but there's the sinking feeling that it won't last long.

The thought of turning into his original form and taking to the skies seems tedious ⎛ and he's never thought of it that way before ⎠ - but he thinks that maybe if he simply teleports places, it will work out. That seems like something that won't fade, because there's that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that he won't retain his divinity.

Where some may resent such a thing, Wilnas ponders the idea for a moment and finds himself laughing. Wasn't this what he wanted? A chance to understand the strength of mortals, to know why they acted so differently from the other dragons, from the primals and the astrals- because they were so very brief in their existences. He finds joy in this notion. He'll really get a chance now!

That's something to celebrate later, though. Right now, he's surrounded by nightmares, and it's tragic. He wonders if this would be the state of the skydoms if one of the dragons finally managed to overpower the others. Flames burst from his body as if to mimic his doubts and fears- because he'd wanted this once. He'd thought that maybe if he dyed the world in his color, somehow that would be better.

It took a thrashing from the Singularity to bring him to his senses. He'd worked hard to help rebuild the city he'd razed in his anger ⎛ and confusion, because it was rather disorienting waking up and not knowing how much time had passed ⎠ and he'd learned to love the skydoms. Dyeing the world in vermillion was a distant thought from a different lifetime. One where he hadn't yet learned to love.

Wasn't that why he felt such sorrow now? The world around him looked to be in agony, and that part of him, still angry and confused, wanted to simply burn it all away and start anew. He knows better than that, though. He knows that he needs to douse the flames ⎛ for now ⎠ so that this strange place could follow its fate.

It's only when he manages to pull the flames back into his body that he realizes how cold he is. He's never felt cold before- What a mortal feeling!

⎛ . . . ⎠

Finally, he feels as if he's found his bearings. What's left of the area he's in ⎛ Archimedes Ward, supplies an unknown voice, some divinity perhaps- he wonders if it's the Creator finally getting back to everyone who was waiting for answers ⎠seems like it would be a rather lovely place, if not for how warped everything had become. He's supposed to be staying in a building numbered 401- that knowledge also came from the unknown voice, which for simplicity's sake he decided was in fact the voice of Bahamut ⎛ It was less confusing that way, even though he knew it was very much not Bahamut- he didn't need more things on his plate- not yet ⎠.

After a few tries with the key, Wilnas chose to simply teleport into the condo- He'd been learning finesse in cooking, but he certainly had a way to go in applying that same sort of dexterity to things like using a key to open a lock- which for any mortal would probably be second nature, right? Another exciting thing to learn about! It looked like other people lived in the condo, too. There's an open bedroom with a comfortable bed, which he finds himself eager to try out! Mortals had to sleep, after all, and wouldn't that be a novel experience? Sleeping as a mortal instead of as a dragon!

No, this wasn't really a time to take a nap. Not with everything going on outside. Not when he still felt the ⎛ distant ⎠ pulse of divinity. Now was the time to go and explore and maybe do the right thing. He's fire, but he's learned that he doesn't have to be destructive.

⎛ Maybe all of this is a dream? He'll talk to Orologia when he wakes up ⎠

His heart races when he teleports back outside into the warped Archimedes Ward. Maybe this isn't the best time to be human, but really, wasn't this all he had asked for? In a nightmare or in a daydream, he'd make the most of it.

[myunghology]

hihihihihihih i saw that your requests are open!!! Is it fine if I request hcs with Shinobu and Aira being too scared to talk to their crush? But the reader is confused why they wont talk to them so they just end up being more affection to them.

(Im exactly like this. EUAGHEHSB can you also make the reader g/n please?)

TELL ME CAN YOU FEEL IT? MY HEART IS BEATING FAST!

summary — shinobu, aira and tsukasa being too scared to talk to their crush! read full req for summary.. hehe

pairings — shinobu sengoku, aira shiratori, and tsukasa suou x gender neutral reader (seperate!)

tw — NONE...?? i think

a/n — i know you didn't add tsukasa but.. u mentioned he was in your top 3 and im guessing this IS your top 3 so i decided to add him as well! also im like this too LMFAOO

— s. shinobu

Tries to avoid you the best way he can— literally will use anything in his power, but just because it'll be painfully obvious that he likes you whenever you're around! Can you tell though?.. By the way he's avoiding you..

Shinobu gets SO blushy whenever you just start clinging onto him even more, and he finds himself stuttering around you even more than usual.

His attempts to have avoid you? Failed. He's a goner. You're the one making moves first? Bye, he's deceased.

Slowly but surely gets used to your affection, even if you two are just friends.. For now.

And you were super confused when he was avoiding you since you two were practically inseparable; until someone deducts that he may have a crush on you, and then he suddenly gets scared of talking to you.

You were super sad those following days TT. So the only way to suppress it? Just cling onto him even more, yes! That's such a good idea.

He's malfunctioning every. Single. Time. You are near him or even touch him in any way, he notices you try to seek out for him more too, he can't tell if he should be thankful or worried if somethings wrong.

Why not both?

To be completely fair, I don't think he's complaining that much anyway. Eventually stops avoiding you and gets rid of his fear— Now no one can tell if you two are dating or just friends.

SIBLINGS OR DATINF???????? ok bye sorry

Everyone around you ships the both of you together, I mean.. Who wouldn't? No ones really complaining anyway.

Although for Shinobu, he'll probably say something quickly like "We're not dating!" A few couple times until he's noticed that you aren't denying it, and so he stops.

Anyone who has his very not so secret private account on Twitter, and sees his rambles about you is most definitely going to give them a little giggle at how smitten he is when it comes to you.

Whenever you're not around or when he was still scared of talking to you, bro was literally yapping about you to EVERYONE.

Not anything personal tho, of course not! It's just, he sees you through a rose-colored piece of lens. That's how perfect you are to him. I think everyone thinks that way about you, though!

— s. aira

In Aira's case, I think you two didn't even know each other before he started liking you. Listen, he'd probably be your classmate of some sort, and he just stares and admires you while you look and act all prettily.

He wishes he could approach you somehow, but he's waaaay too scared. What if he makes the wrong first impression? What if he blurts out something he isn't supposed to say?

You'd notice or say hi, or even help him sometimes when he doesn't know the answer to something, which makes him fall even HARDER since you two don't even know each other that much and you're helping him already!

You're just such a sweetheart.. Aren't you? Don't deny it! (≧∇≦)b.

Totally has a secret private playlist that is filled with songs that remind him of you as well.

He's the type of person who you'd talk to more online than in real life. At least online he can more so control his responses than risk spilling that he likes you in real life! He'd be too distracted looking at you anyway.

The Gods gave him an answer. You both were paired up with each other for a school project. Should he say thank you or panic? Whichever one works.

This is the time he realizes he needs to talk to you. Not just for grades, but for an opportunity to get to know you more openly and not stalking you through your socmed! (^o^)

You think this would be easy become you two have talked to each other online before! While he's just internally panicking at home when you message him what you should do for the said project.

The next day, you're already comfortable with him! He'd still be a bit shy, but he's warming up to you little by little. Ignoring all the obvious signs that he has a crush on you..

Slowly but surely, you start catching feelings too. Solution? Be more affectionate to get his attention. You start spending time with him after you guys submit the project, which makes him jump on his bed from happiness, probably.

You start spending more time together just because of some silly little project.. He is still dying (In a good way!) From all the affection you are giving him.. Let him slide this once!

s. tsukasa

Loser activities. LITERALLY stalks you so much and raves in the Knights groupchat it's actually so sickening. It's true I asked them myself..

But let's be real for a second, I think he would actually BE scared to approach his crush, read: you. Meanwhile he does try to make some moves, keyword: tries. He always ends up shaking in his place whenever you are in his sights.

Knights give him lots and lots of support!! Actually, they are all his wing(wo)men. Especially Arashi, since she IS probably the closest to you.

All of your conversations with Knights members somehow end up talking about Tsukasa. Like.. What do you mean you and Izumi were talking about how bad the idol industry is and then he started talking about the red haired knight?

"Yeah.. The industry sucks these days. Anyway, what's your opinion on the first year of our group?" ".. Excuse me?"

Everyone is just sick and tired of him talking about you, and would do anything at this point for you to notice him.

Once you DO start noticing him though, these three are all very alike. They start panicking in the inside and start planning your wedding in his mind.

The type of person to scream in his pillow when he gets home himself from walking YOU home, he's finally making moves guys we are so proud..

Also the type to send love letters on a daily, and trust me, it's not that hard to find out it's him due to his really neat and beautiful hand writing. You're too nice to ever bring it up though.

Leo definitely almost blurted out Tsukasa's crush on you. What you didn't expect of yourself was to blush at what he said. Oh and that blush didn't come unnoticed by Tsukasa who was covering his hand on his leader's mouth.

"Guys.. What if they like me back.." "IT'S 2AM GET YOUR ASS BACK TO SLEEP PLEASE I'M BEGGING" "ykw i hope they don't like you back atp"

Tries to act all gentlemanly saying, "[Name], please stop. We're in public. It's not too appropriate to hug me." while everyone around him scoffs knowing damn well be doesn't mean it.

For his sake, please stop! He is this close to just exploding right in your arms when you hug him. Please don't let go though..

Tries to distract himself saying he doesn't have time for relationships, but the demons in him are telling him to make a move or else he'll never know if you actually do like him back!

Those demons are definitely Knights. Sorry.

myunghology: your type is very obvious mootie. ALSO FUCK I HOPE THIS ISN'T TOO OOC

[twentytworoses]

SOUKOKU HOGWARTS AU

Chuuya Nakahara

Gryffindor but the Hat very nearly sent him to Hufflepuff (Chuuya overheard someone in the train say that Hufflepuff is a house for ppl who aren't special and he tried to change the Sorting Hat's decision bcs he wants to look cool lmao)

He's good at Defense but someone constantly needs to remind him to use his wand, not his fists.

He doesn't care about his grades, until he met Dazai and suddenly everything became a competition.

He's got a black cat named Arahabaki and he's a little demon (Baki hates Dazai and thats why Chuuya loves him)

His rivalry with Dazai is widespread and professors have to keep them away from each other to avoid stirring fights.

He doesn't give a shit about house rivalry because Kouyou is a Slytherin, he'll beat up anyone who annoys him no matter their house.

Chuuya is a half-blood

Chuuya's housemates are confused with his relationship with Dazai; they say they hate each other but most times, you'll find them hanging out even in their free time. (this is mostly bcs of Dazai who goes out of his way to find Chuuya and annoy him and suddenly they spent the whole day together)

He's amazing in Quidditch, and has a talent for Charms. He later becomes the Captain.

Tachihara, a gryffindor and his teammate, is Chuuya's best friend (I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP DONT @ me)

Nobody mentions his height. NOBODY.

Dazai Osamu

Before the Sorting Hat could fully reach his head, it screamed "Slytherin!" almost immediately.

Dazai hates green, and complains about how the colors don't match his fashion sense

Dazai's background remains a mystery to everyone. He has qualities that make up a high-class pureblood and his clothes are all tailored expensively, and yet no one knows who the fuck he is or where he came from. When someone asks, he bullshits his answer every time.

In big parties, people has seen Dazai interact with Mori Ougai (the Minister of Magic) in multiple occasions and people suspect that he might be Mori's ward or son he's kept hidden all this time.

Dazai mostly fools around, doesn't take anything too seriously and yet his housemates are fucking terrified of him. Students from other houses don't understand the fear considering they only see him as a "goofy" slacker.

Dazai isnt friends with anyone in his house, and if he isn't seen with Chuuya, he's with Oda, a Hufflepuff student who's two years older than him. They have an inseparable friendship and Dazai grows to respect him.

Oda is the only person Dazai is willing to listen to.

In potion making, Dazai is kept in a seperate table, alone, where he just sits there, not doing anything until all of the students finished with theirs. He's only allowed to do his potion when he has a supervisor watching him bcs he's drank or exploded his cauldron so many times that he's a safety hazard to his classmates and himself.

He's shit at Potions and following basic instructions.

He could score all of his subjects perfect, but he doesn't want to.

Yes, Dazai threw himself into the Black Lake. And jumped from the Gryffindor tower. And broke curfew to explore in the Forbidden Forest where he met a giant spider. And drank a highly dangerous potion before getting disappointed that he grabbed the wrong one. And—

Dazai broke every rule there is and somehow, for some ungodly reason, he isn't expelled yet.

Once a slytherin student was curious about what's under Dazai's bandages and snuck in his room to peak while he was dressing. He never came back the same again.

Professors rarely call Dazai out for recitation, because he'd always add an unnecessary comment and most of the times its directed to Chuuya and given the redhead's fiery attitude, Chuuya responds back and Dazai eggs him on until it ends with an inevitable brawl.

Someone spread rumors about Dazai had killed someone in the past; the fact that Dazai can see Thestrals and never denied anything doesn't help at all.

Dazai is incapable of producing a Patronus.

MORE SOUKOKU:

Chuuya knows something about Dazai's past considering when they first met, there was an instant resentment and familiarity. These two clearly had history together before they attended Hogwarts.

Dazai's grades are higher than average, but not like impressive. The only time he's ever shown a bit of seriousness in his grades is when Chuuya challenged him, and suddenly, his grades are all O's (except for his Potions LMAO). Chuuya loses.

No one's sure what the losing punishment is but Dazai now calls Chuuya his "dog" and Chuuya's face explodes into color but interestingly, the redhead doesn't oblige.

Dazai bemoans about the Quidditch matches as tacky and boring but he never shows up late when Gryffindor's team is playing.

Chuuya's Patronus turns out to be a dog and he threatens bodily harm on anyone who'd tell on Dazai. Everyone wants to keep their heads so they agreed to keep their mouths shut.

When Oda graduated on his last year, Chuuya and Dazai's relationship changes. They still argue, still claim to hate each other, but they appear closer.

Dazai becomes touchy and Chuuya doesn't brush it off like he used to. Their arguments are less heated, and more playful banter.

"We're not dating!" a voice booms at the gryffindor table once, when heads are turn to Chuuya, his face is all red and Tachihara seems tired about something.

A ravenclaw student sent a love letter to Chuuya, and a week later, a Troll invaded the girl's dorm (no one knows how it even got in) and she nearly got stuck with it. In the same week, someone pointed out marks on Chuuya's neck

"It's a mosquito," Chuuya answers venomously. "An overgrown, annoying mosquito."

Dazai seems to find his answer so hilarious.

Here's the link for the Shin Soukoku Hogwarts AU

[ridiasfangirlings]

What if Mikoto accidentally goes back in time and meets tiny child Fushimi and discovers how abusive his dad is and basically takes him under his wing while he's there and Mikoto kind of realizes through raising Fushimi why his version was so scared of him. What if he's eventually torn away after like a year or so back into his original timeline and he sort of misses the Fushimi that idolizes him but knows that he'll never see the kid again and hopes he's doing well only to one day bump into this Fushimi who is being cornered by his dad and suddenly Mikoto severe hatred for the man flaires up and he steps in to save Fushimi..... I'm not sure if Fushimi remembers Mikoto after that though because of weird timy-whimy stuff or just becomes completely freaked out by two of his biggest fears in one place together.

Somehow I just imagine Mikoto being sent back in time for like a year and where most people would be freaking out he's just like '….*shrug*' and deals with it XD Like imagine he gets hit by the Time Travel Strain and Mikoto figures it's kind of a pain when he finds himself back in the past but hey, could be worse. He manages to find some work as a bouncer at some seedy club (where they don't ask the employees for ID and he can get hired on the basis of looking like he'd be good at punching people) and kinda settles in waiting for when he can finally go home. Maybe sending him to the past did something to his King powers too, like even though his body hasn't changed at all he's been kinda 'reset', power-wise, to how he was during this time period and so he's not a King right now. That's actually a weird sort of relief, like he might not have the kind of power he used to but he doesn't have this feeling like he's going to be overwhelmed by destructive urges as much either.

One day as he's wondering how long he's gonna be stuck here and why did he get sent back to this particular time period anyway he runs across a crying kid. Mikoto tries to just keep walking past but it's late and there's no one else around, finally he sighs and goes to ask the kid what the problem is. Before he can open his mouth though he hears this irritating 'gya ha ha' type laugh and the kid noticeably flinches. A man appears and for a moment Mikoto wonders if he's actually in the future rather than the past and this is like future Fushimi and his kid, the resemblance is way too uncanny. But then the guy calls the kid 'Saruhiko' and Mikoto realizes who this must be. Something about this gives him a bad feeling and he carefully follows them home, watching as Niki teases Fushimi and talks about leaving him in the park overnight or playing 'can you get down from the tall tree.' Mikoto's kinda starting to understand why Fushimi turned out the way he did with this kind of dad, making a note of the house they go into.

The next day Mikoto hangs out around the house until little kid Fushimi leaves with his school satchel on. Mikoto walks over to keep pace with him and asks why no one's walking him to school. Fushimi looks over at him all tense and Mikoto's just totally calm, smoking a cigarette and talking to Fushimi as if nothing's weird about a random adult talking to some kid he doesn't know. Fushimi lowers his head and mumbles that no one ever walks him to school and he doesn't need them to, Mikoto's like 'I see' and then says he'll walk Fushimi to school. Fushimi gives him a suspicious look and asks who Mikoto is, Mikoto says Fushimi doesn't need to worry about it. Fushimi's like if you're a kidnapper just so you know no one will pay my ransom, Mikoto blows smoke and says he isn't going to kidnap Fushimi, he just figures someone should keep an eye on him. Fushimi's all confused by this weird adult and thinks Mikoto's just teasing him somehow but then once school is over Mikoto's there to walk him home too.

From that point on Mikoto always seems to be there whenever Fushimi leaves the house and Fushimi still doesn't get who this person is or why he's taken an interest in Fushimi but he also slowly starts to trust Mikoto too, like somehow this person seems to care about him and Fushimi's never had that before. Mikoto asks Fushimi about his family and about 'that guy,' Fushimi doesn't like to talk about Niki though and will go all quiet when Mikoto asks. Mikoto sees how Fushimi is with Niki though and probably wonders if it will like destroy the timeline if he burns this guy. He thinks Fushimi isn't a bad kid though, a little more timid than the Fushimi Mikoto knows but not really that different. Fushimi's also started to really get close to Mikoto, like he starts looking forward to Mikoto taking him to and from school and he's really begun to open up to Mikoto a little.

That's when the time travel thing finally wears off and Mikoto gets sent back to right around the time he left. Homra's all worried about him but they think he just disappeared for like an hour, Mikoto rubs the back of his head and says 'something like that.' Afterward Homra and Scepter 4 clash and Mikoto wonders if he made any impression on Fushimi in the past, however Fushimi just acts as cold as normal and doesn't seem to remember him. But then a few days later imagine Mikoto's walking around the city and comes upon Fushimi and Niki (say Everybody Lives AU where that 'everybody' unfortunately includes Niki). Fushimi's clearly tense and angry, all his usual belligerence drained away by this person who even now fills him with dread. Mikoto though just gets this fierce grin like well it won't affect the timeline now right and imagine him just walking up and punching Niki right in the face. Fushimi is staring at him absolutely dumbfounded, like here one person he hates just destroyed the person he hates even more and Fushimi has no idea why. Mikoto just asks Fushimi 'you good?', Fushimi nods mutely and Mikoto puts a hand on his head before walking off all you're still not a bad kid even though you grew up to have a mouth on you.

[narumi-gens]

note: I know I haven't been writing anything lately, but I have an Aizawa idea that I need to put down before it slips away. I think I want to do more with this but I'll just drop this little blurb for now... words: 800

When he first became a Pro Hero, Aizawa put away a villain with the power to erase memories. Somehow, years later, he manages to escape and decides that just as Eraserhead took the thing he treasures most, his freedom, he'll take something in return. It's all too fitting that his revenge on the Erasure Hero comes in the form of erasing every memory of the Pro Hero from the mind of the person who matters the most to him -- you.

Which is how you one day find yourself slowly waking up in a room with bright, fluorescent lights that make you quickly shut your eyes before you can even fully open them. As you come to, you can hear a steady beeping and the steady bustling of activity nearby.

When you finally manage to open your eyes again, you see that you're in a hospital room.

Which doesn't make sense. Other than the slightly groggy feeling that usually only comes when you've slept too much, you feel...fine.

As you lift up a hand to look at the clip on your finger, a frown forms on your lips as your eyes follow the wire leading from it to the beeping monitor displaying your vitals. Despite how heavy your hand feels, you start trying to shake off the clip.

Your mind beings to swirl, but everything keeps coming back to one question: What happened?

Your hand freezes, the clip only slightly loosened, when the door to your room opens. But whatever momentary relief you feel at the chance to talk to a nurse and hopefully get some answers is replaced by more confusion when a man, who judging from his wrinkled clothing and mop of hair that's been messily pulled back is neither a nurse nor a doctor, holding a cup of coffee walks in and stops in the doorway as he stares at you with wide, bloodshot eyes.

He's much quicker than you are to overcome his shock because only a moment later, he's hurrying to your bedside, absently setting his coffee down on the counter by the door in passing.

"You're awake," he says, his voice low, rough, and full of the relief that's also written across his scruffy face. He's quick to press the call button for a nurse by your bed.

He then takes the hand that you're still holding aloft in his, squeezing it tightly and making you tense. Fear begins to replace your confusion at how familiar this...this stranger is acting.

You're quick to yank your hand away and try to sit up, pushing through the head rush that doing so causes.

"Hey, take it easy," the man tells you, concern beginning to seep into his voice as he raises a hand towards you but seems to think better of touching you in your clearly agitated state and instead merely holds it out like you're some sort of spooked animal. "Wait until the nurse gets here. It shouldn't be much longer."

Your name leaves his lips and it gives you pause. He knows your name? Why does he know your name?

You look him over again, the loud pounding of your heart in your ears matched by the beeping of the machine beside you. Your eyes land on the visitor's sticker on his shirt and they go wide when you read what's written in the corner of the sticker: Tokyo Central Hospital.

"T-Tokyo?" you ask, your own voice scratchy and hoarse with apparent disuse, panic coloring the one word. "Why-why am I in Tokyo?"

You lift your eyes back up to the man's face and see the way his forehead wrinkles in confusion. It seems like he's finally starting to realize that something's wrong -- something more than whatever it is that landed you here in the first place.

He says your name again. It comes out soothingly, softly, caringly but it only makes you scramble to the other edge of the hospital bed as you try to put as much space between you and this stranger as you can.

"Take a deep breath, okay," he tries to calm you as he takes a step back to give you the room that you're desperate for. He pushes the call button again, more forcefully this time as if that will make the nurse appear quicker.

"No, what happened?" you ask, scared, panicked, and wanting nothing more than to just go home. "What am I doing in Tokyo? How come I'm not in Kyoto?"

It's the last question that makes the man freeze. There's a mixture of shock and confusion on his face as his eyes dart across your features, like he's hoping to he'll find some sort of answer.

He slowly starts to say your name but you cut him off before he can even finish saying it.

"No! Who the fuck are you?" you shout hysterically just as the door to your room opens again and a nurse walks in.

As you look to her desperately for both help and answers, you miss the man's reaction to your outburst. You miss everything -- the shock, the horror, and the heartbreak.

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio as Yanderes HCs

Chrollo

He's so lonely traveling around for jobs, it's an unstable life and he doesn't have any real motivation for doing what he does. But you? You were so interesting. He made obtaining you a sort of game, except this was a far more exhilarating game than he'd ever played before. It was a new sort of mission that required a different way of going about things and that sparked something in him. Something he had been missing and craving this entire time unknowingly.

You quickly became friends with the new charming man in town, he asked you out a few times and it was all going well. He brought you flowers and candies, showering you in expensive gifts that you didn't have to even do anything special to receive. You said he didn't have to do these things but he made it clear he was glad to do it.

It's a very gradual progression as he gets more and more possessive. He'll want you to wear everything he's given you, especially when you go out in public. The way he turns your head to meet his gaze even when you two aren't talking, as if your attention had to be directed at him for fear that your outside surroundings would somehow taint you.

When you bring up cutting your hair differently or trying a new look he's quick to panic, telling you in a breathy voice that that was a horrible idea and you were perfect just as you are. He wants to keep you the same as you've always been since he first met you, only allowing you to change to his wishes, never your own.

"You belong to me just as you are. Nothing will change that. I won't allow it to." His gaze is gentle but his words held an unspoken threat that both of you were very aware of. You were his rock. The only constant in his life and after gaining such a thing he would destroy anything that could possibly take that away.

You come along with him for all his jobs, no point fighting someone when there was no chance of getting away. You had to admit the life was somewhat entrancing; traveling around with a man quick to give you anything you so desired, only having eyes for you, a precious gift. He's never cruel, always so tentative, the darkness only fills his aura when directed at others for you could never do wrong in his eyes. The world was what was corrupt and ever-changing. He was a clear example of that.

Hisoka

Hisoka is the king of manipulation and while some part of you respected his skill, when it's directed at you it's an entirely different story. When it happens it just seems like jokes, small things he says that plant these cruel ideas in your mind, and they just keep building up. When you bring up his comments he laughs you off, saying if you are overthinking things perhaps there is a good reason for it. That was the start of it all.

Your idea of your friends was tainted, the way they smiled at you became a reminder of the horrible things Hisoka said a smile could hide. Your own family made you doubt your worth, thinking you'd never reach their standards. When you walked with Hisoka those harsh thoughts remained in your head but the presence of the magician made you happy, the way he had said you were perfect for him and that he didn't have expectations for you. He simply wanted you and everything you were willing to give. Only he didn't tell you he would have you give everything you had to offer and make it seem as if it was all your own choice.

You went on about your insecurities, voicing the fact that the world could be such a confusing and unfair place. It made him angry. The card would slip from his fingertips, blood rushing to the surface of your skin as the sharpened edge brought about a twinge of pain. Your eyes widen but a guilt fills your stomach. Hisoka had said you were perfect so why did he hurt you? He remains quiet as he walks towards you but his calm demeanor does nothing to calm your nerves. He explains in the sweetest voice a blood-thirsty man could provide - which was the equivalent of honey in vocal form for this gifted performer - that he was not mad at you but your words. To stop putting yourself down and instead direct your hate at the world. Your mind quickly twists things, Hisoka seeming to have had a sweet reaction. He wasn't mad at you. He loved you. He just wanted you to be happy and the fact you weren't stirred something in him. He cared and the world didn't.

He shows you off to the crowds like you're some divine thing. Something to be proud of. You're happy and he gives you a tender smile whenever he finds you in the stands of the arena. He'll dedicate the following bloodshed to you and call out in your direction his words of dedication. It was violent yet loving, a perfect description of the man who you cared for.

The death didn't stop at the stage, however. You'd find him coming home with clothes stained red from a person he never tells you the name of, going on about how he loves you so much sometimes he just can't help but express it. How he makes the last words those people mutter be your name as blood spills from their lips. You grimace. This isn't what you wanted. But what can you do? He loves you.

He lets you go out on your own, knowing you'll always come back. If you don't? That's not even a possibility at this point. Everything you are is his. You placed the very value of your existence in this beautiful man and he eats it up greedily. Without you, he'd starve. You didn't want to be cruel after he helped you accept the world as it is and yourself. The killing never stops but you do learn to accept it. Eventually, a smile finds its way onto your face as he drags a bloody finger across your cheek, leaving a red streak he kisses gently before dragging you to the shower to wash up with him. If the world is already cruel then isn't he just a byproduct? An adapter? Simply someone who has learned to love in a place where even love can't remain untarnished?

Illumi

You're getting kidnapped right off the bat. This man takes you the second he finds any sort of special interest in you as a person. He has this urge to protect you, the same as his own blood, that's not something he can just ignore. He won't be like his father. He won't allow you to rebel against his wishes or run off with another. He'll keep you to himself until you yearn for nothing more. Your cries fall on deaf ears as he looks on at you emotionlessly. This is for the best.

You'll be walking one day, there won't be many people around or none at all, and then he'll just appear. You hadn't met him before, he had wanted to study you to see if the two of you were compatible before he actually moved forward with his plans. One moment he's standing before you and the next you're out cold, a needle placed perfectly in your neck causing you to fall limp in his hold. He cradles you gently against him as he quickly makes his way to a secure home for the two of you. He wouldn't allow his family to have a taste of you. He didn't need their help. They always failed it seemed and he wouldn't have you suffer the same fate.

You wake up in a home straight out of your wildest dreams. You think you're still asleep as you first take in your surroundings. It's simply perfect. Your dream room. Your feet find the floor and as you put yourself upright a voice calls out to you asking if this setup pleases you or if you'd like something different. You're stunned and the ground beneath your feet suddenly feels all too real. The long-haired man comes to face you, his speed inhuman as he soon stands before you. You're scared and you're confused but the night before comes back to you and the explanation is clear. This man had taken you and it doesn't seem as if it had been the first time he laid eyes on you.

As time goes by he stays at your side, quietly observing you as you go about your day in the confines of the home. You'll walk to one room only to turn around and find him relaxed in a different spot only a few feet away. You were never out of his sight. You began to become curious about his intentions, why he was acting so nice - albeit a bit creepy - after taking you away like this. "My parents attempted to make the perfect family through what most would deem as cruelty. It didn't work out in their favor. I thought I had turned out quite nicely but they did not think the same. The closest thing to perfection for them is my brother but even he is not right yet. They treated him far... kinder than me you could say. Perhaps if I treat you even better you will be good for me."

With no way to escape, having witnessed this man's own abilities the first day of your "stay," you adapted to the situation. Becoming docile yet not overly submissive. You were still you and it seemed he was content with your occasional minor defiance and own personal wants or needs. It seemed he only wanted your presence and something about that was far easier to accept. He doesn't force you to do anything but rather encourages your interests and even becomes curious about them himself. While he wasn't much one to talk in the beginning he became more comfortable in your presence. You both had to adjust to the other despite him being the one in control of the situation.

Being with him is a reassuring thing, the little gleam in his eyes as you show him something new or express your gratitude over something he does/brings you has your heart beating loudly in your chest. You had begun to care for him. You missed the world and the new adventures and life you used to live but there was no fighting to be done. You knew what the result would be. In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong and an inhumane thing to do to another person but he seemed so tender with you. You watched him grow into himself and what's wrong with making the best out of a bad situation?

[seacottons]

reaper ; — k.hj x reader

pairing: hongjoong x reader, platonic wooyoung x reader

wc: 5k

notes: i guess this is horror? pft. idk. mild violence. set in the late 80s? early 90s? technology isn't prevalent here so- yeah. probably needs to be proofread but i'm too sleepy as of now. maybe tomorrow. also, happy hongjoong day 🤍

synopsis: after an accident leaves three of your friends dead and one in a coma, you and wooyoung struggle with living expenses and piling medical bills. in the midst of it all, you’re stalked by strangers who resemble your deceased friends.

"Bad day at the tavern, Woo?" You asked, arms wrapping around the black-haired man who stood over the stovetop. A gentle fire simmered the stew he was cooking, a thin sheen of oil and spices pooling on the surface. He nodded with a grim frown and tight jaw, shoulders tense as he stirred a ladle into the pot.

"Got in a fight with some asshole who thought he didn't have to pay for shit," he grumbled back. You frowned at the sight of a bruise on his jaw, and he caught your gaze before scoffing incredulously.

"Don't look at me like that. This is nothing," he quipped hastily, voice thin with resignation.

"I think I have some leftover ointment for that," you sighed, turning away to fetch the item. After dinner, the two of you sat in silence as you tended to his bruises and cuts, your brows furrowing into a glare as you wrapped his finger with scraps of linen you managed to find," You should be more careful with people like that."

"We need the money," he retorted gently, "Mr. Lee would've taken it out of my paycheck if I had let the guy go without paying."

"At the expense of you getting hurt?" He ignored the glare you sent his way.

"We need every silver coin and more right now, y/n," he exhaled softly, leaning back against the old headboard of your bed, "Yeosang's medical bills aren't getting cheaper, and we promised the landlord we'll pay her this month." He groaned, reaching up to massage his temple with a tight frown, "And I can't keep making you work two shifts every day. I see the toll it's having on you."

"I told you I'm fine," you gave him a hard stare, defensively crossing your arms above your chest, "We both work overtime, so it won't be fair of me to just throw all the responsibility on you."

He gave you a tired smile, eyes fluttering shut as he hummed back a reply. Bringing you into his arms, he placed a gentle kiss onto your temple, before cradling your head against his chest while laying down, "I'll always be grateful to still have you with me."

Wooyoung sleeping in your bed alongside you became a silent agreement of some sort months ago when he couldn't bear to sleep alone in the other room he and Yeosang shared. Since then, the two of you found comfort in each other's arms, so much so that it became difficult to sleep without the warmth of his arms wrapped securely around your frame every night.

You sat in a comfortable silence, eyes closed as you relaxed back in your seat while holding Yeosang's delicate hand. The occasional beep of the IV machine and other monitors filled the air of the small room. You peek one eye open to look at Wooyoung, his back turned to you as he gazes out of the window. Neither of you speak for a while.

"You really think the doctor's words are guaranteed? That he'll wake up soon?"

You watched from your spot as Wooyoung leaned over the blonde-haired male, his hands brushing the hair away from his closed eyes. He appeared to be in a very deep and peaceful slumber.

"Yeah. I'm sure–.. I know he will. Things will get better for all of us," he drawled out tiredly, a soft smile finding itself onto his visage as he turned to gaze at your hand grasping Yeosang's limp one, eyes puffy from his crying session last night, "I know it."

An hour later, a nurse peeks her head in to politely state that you two have exceeded your visiting time. The two of you bid your friend farewell and left the hospital.

"I'm actually going to run by the cemetery real quick before my shift starts," you explained while walking down the road with the other by your side, half frozen autumn leaves crunching beneath your boots.

Wooyoung pulled you into a tight hug, hand reaching up to tussle your locks, "Alright, please be careful. I'll see you later, alright?," he readjusted the scarf around your neck with his gloved hands, "We'll have fried fish tonight, your favorite. Don't overwork yourself at work again!"

Tears nearly welled in your eyes, knowing fully well behind his cheerful demeanor hid a scared and tired being. The unspeakable pain behind his eyes killed you on the inside. He overworked himself both physically and mentally, and you can only wish you can rid some of the burden off of his shoulders.

You were just as hurt by the circumstances that the both of you were in, but watching his mental health erode with each day was A lump formed in your throat, and instead of replying, you merely flashed him a smile, not trusting your voice.

You pressed a quick peck to his cheek only to laugh as he flinched away from your freezing lips, your laughter escaping as puffs of white in the frigid air. You bid him farewell and waved back as the two of you separated.

The low mist enshrouding the cemetery did very little to bring warmth in the early hours of the morning. Your hands absentmindedly brushed along the dew covered grass as your eyes fixated onto the inscription on one of the three tombstones.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

"It's your birthday next month, Joong," you muse to the grave in front of you, "I'll make sure to spend the day here with you and the others when the time comes."

You adjusted your position on the grass, the gentle beams of sunlight sparkling in the beads of dew around you. Sitting cross legged, you reminisced the times you spent with the male and the other two friends that shared his fate.

"Wait— how come you get to be the flower? You should be the butterfly instead," you whined whilst poking his cheek.

With a playful quirk of his brow, he reached up to lightly flick your forehead before pulling you closer for a gentle kiss, "You're the butterfly, because you always bug me, baby."

You smiled to yourself at the memory, reaching down to admire the various flowers that have finally bloomed on Hongjoong's grave. Similar blossoms and flowering vines were planted and grown onto the other two graves to the right.

"I miss you so much."

You startled at the sight of a small butterfly fluttering over your head, only to smile once it landed on the purple blossom. You stilled your frame in fear of scaring it off, and watched as it flapped its blue wings subtly.

A small lizard peeked through the gaps of leaves, sharply and swiftly clamping its mouth onto the butterfly. It struggled to keep the bug in its mouth, its head shaking rapidly as the insect wriggled in its hold. Moments later, the bug stilled and the lizard scampered off with its prey.

You stood up, shoulders slumping as you gave the three graves a smile and a wave, "See you guys tomorrow. I love you."

You tightened the sweater around your frame as you made yourself out the gates of the cemetery, sighing in annoyance at the lingering and dense fog. It was difficult to even make out the next tree as you made your way back to town. You faintly hear the sound of a crow's caw in the distance and peer down onto the ground as you feel a tremor beneath your feet. Your head snapped up in time to have a large vehicle's headlights reflect in your wide eyes.

You somehow couldn't quite grasp what day it was, or even what happened at work earlier. Your head spun as if you had just awoken from a drunken stupor.

The sun had set and the moonlight washed the town with a silvery blue hue. Flames flickered within the numerous lampposts and pebbles crunched beneath your feet as you walked through the familiar cobblestone path back home. The streets were deserted. Many buildings were left with shattered windows, small plants and moss growing in the most delicate fissures on their walls. Plastered advertisements and papers on the walls and lampposts looked withered and aged, drooping forward and swaying with the gentle breeze. It was quite an odd sight to see. The once boisterous town strangely felt like a ghost town.

You shrugged off the ominous feeling growing in the pit of your stomach as you trudged along back home.

Along the way, you crossed the hospital where Yeosang was kept. You peeked back to glance at the building, your eyes immediately catching sight of a figure who stood behind a third story window. Furrowing your brows, you turned around to continue walking, the sight of the stranger leaving a bitter feeling in your heart.

The male had the same patch of silver hair as—

Suddenly, your feet came to a halt and you turned back frantically, but the figure was gone. In its place, the blue curtain of Yeosang's room swayed gently with the wind.

Shaking your head, you continued your path whilst rubbing your tired eyes.

"I probably just had a long day," you explained to nobody.

In the distance, there crouched a dark figure, his hands caressing the top of a stray cat's head. You met eyes with the stranger moments later, and you paused in your tracks, your heart dropping down to the floor and leaping into your throat almost simultaneously.

"San?" the figure's lips stretched into a wide grin at your acknowledgement, before he stood up straight to face you. Your legs shook and threatened to give under the sudden weight of your body, "San? Is that really you?"

"Long time no see, y/n."

He silently nodded, arm extending to beckon you forward with a small smile. You took a small step forward, brows furrowing in confusion, "But this can't be you. You're dead."

"Your eyesight is still horrible, I see," he drawled out with a roll of his eyes. You stood inches away from him, eyes widening in disbelief. He sounded like and resembled your late friend with a terrifying accuracy. With a trembling hand you reached forward to cup his cheek, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You're..," you trailed off, eyes briefly glancing to your right at the reflection of the store glass window. Your reflection grasped at nothing but thin air, and you quickly retracted your hand from his face, eyes wide, "You're not real, are you?"

In an instant, the bright smile vanished and his gaze hardened into a dark expression. He silently bore holes into your head as a gentle breeze swayed his ebony and silver locks over his eyes. You took two hesitant steps back, and a blur of black flew towards you at an inhumane pace, your back roughly slamming onto the cobblestones underneath you.

Your brain scrambled to process what had just happened, eyes widening as San gripped your two wrists above your head with one hand, the other reaching down to wrap his lithe fingers around the column of your neck to squeeze hard. You released a pained cry, face contorting into a harsh wince. The heel of his palm dug painfully in the middle of your clavicles.

With eyes wide as saucers, you frantically kicked at your heels, hitting his frame repeatedly in an attempt to escape his clutches. Your attempt was futile as he released a growl, eyes practically slits as he seethed down at you, his grip tightening at an unbelievable level.

You wheezed, mouth falling open as you choked out his name, before furiously and blindingly sending a stomp onto his crotch repeatedly, your other leg jutting high to kick at his shoulder. It loosened his grip just enough for you to wriggle away, knees buckling as you attempted to stand up, heels kicking at the floor as you scrambled up, desperately trying to create as much distance as possible.

His eyes spoke of unfathomable fury as he regained his composure, taking two big strides to reach you.

Hastily rising to your feet, you dove in an alleyway and into the dark, mind not even processing your whereabouts as you quickly attempted to flee.

Your mind was in shambles as you ducked past clothes lines and the multiple abandoned carts near one of the taverns by the tea shop you worked at.

Turning around another corner, you collided with a strong chest, and you stumbled back at the sight of San's dark eyes peering down at you with a miffed expression. You gasped, face draining of color and chest heaving as you stumbled back and away from him. His chest rose with heavy breathing, brows knitted together furiously as he scurried after you.

"Y/n, y/n," he tsked in amusement, voice chiming like he was singing a song, "Come back, I just want to talk!"

Minutes later, the sound of his heavy footsteps ceased, but you did not have the time or courage to look back to see if he was still following you. You scrambled through dark alleyways, turning around every other corner, heart beating frantically in your ears and weak legs threatening to give way under your weight.

Tears prickled your eyes, and a sob threatened to escape your throat as you practically threw yourself against the frame of your door, fingers frantically reaching down to pull out the key from your pouch. From the corner of your eye, you spotted San madly dashing out from an alleyway to reach you, his voice growling out your name.

"Why are you running away?" He mocked, brows quirking up, "I thought we were good friends?"

Your trembling hands scrambled to unlock your door, hastily clambering in and throwing your entire weight to close it shut. A heavy weight from the other side thudded against the wooden frame, and your hands shook whilst reaching up to slide the chain into place. A loud gasp left your lips as the door jerked open slightly, the thin chain straining under the weight that threatened to break it.

"I'm hurt, y/n," a laugh escaped the man from the other side as he lodged his foot in between to keep the door ajar, voice rising as he attempted to shove himself in once more, "Don't you miss me?"

"Leave me alone!"

A hand shot from the gap of the door to clamp around the chain, rattling it viciously, as his other arm bent at an awkward angle to coil his fingers around the side of your neck, "Come out, y/n. I just want to talk," he chimed.

A sudden surge of strength overtook your frame and you threw your weight forward, successfully ramming the door shut against his arms. You expected to hear a cry of pain, but a chime of laughter sent a chill down your spine. With furrowed brows, you repeated the action, slamming the door continuously onto his hands and fingers, the sounds of bones and tendons snapping making you cry out in anguish.

Your hands trembled as you quickly locked the door with the key, stumbling back onto the floor as the knob shook threateningly. The door and chain rattled under the heavy kicks the male delivered from the other side, The impact of his frame against the other side shaking the door slightly. You fell onto your bottom, wobbly knees finally giving in, hands clutching your gaping mouth, and tears silently streaming down your face. You can practically feel the smile in his words, "It's okay. You'll come out eventually."

The dark shadow of his figure disappeared moments later.

When you woke, you weren't exactly sure when or how you fell asleep. You couldn't quite grasp the memories of the night prior. Sitting up, you emit a disoriented groan before realizing you weren't in your bedroom, but rather in the waiting room in the hospital Yeosang resided in. Peering around in confusion, you took account of the night sky, brows furrowing as you scrambled to find the nearest clock. It was well past midnight and visitors weren't even allowed at this ungodly hour.

The room was vacant, and you couldn't make out any figures of the receptionists through the pebbled sliding-windows. Your hand grasped the doorknob of the entrance door, only for you to sigh in frustration after finding it locked. You turn to the other side of the room only to find the door to the main halls of the ICU left ajar ever so slightly.

You called for any doctor or nurse, but you were met with silence. After much contemplating, you decided to make your way through the long corridors of the hospital, your steps reverberating throughout the empty halls. Where are the attendants, and why is a place like the ICU empty?

If you were stuck in here, you might as well stay in your friend's room. The lights from the mounted sconces petered out against the wall and casted the hallway with a warm glow.

After much turning and walking, you reached the end of the hall, hand reaching for the doorknob when the hallway lights wavered for a second. You peered to the side in confusion, before entering the room, only to stop after a step.

The room was empty, the sheets on the bed untouched and perfectly made. A hiss of air from the corridor startled you, and just as you snapped your head back, the lightbulb above you flickered rapidly before it shattered along with the windows, showering your shocked form with glass shards.

The room was engulfed in darkness, save for the streaks of moonlight filtering past the curtains. You jostled up from where you fell from shock, legs feeling useless as you crawled back out of the room with trembling limbs. Not wanting to look back, you clutched the wall for support before hastily speeding through the endless turns of the hallway.

Corner after corner, panic settled through your system because these were definitely not the same hallway layouts you remembered and memorized like the back of your hand. They were endless and vacant, and you felt like a helpless little mouse in a vast maze. As you quickened your pace into a panicked dash, the windows and light sconces on the wall flickered and shattered with every step you took, and you hastily covered your head and face from the flying glass.

This isn't real, you thought. It can't be real.

"Y/n!"

You froze in your spot, breath caught in your throat as you clamped a hand over your mouth to swallow back a scream threatening to slip past your lips. Did you hear correctly, or was that part of your imagination?

"Y/n," the familiar voice spoke once more.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you daringly poked your head from the corner and into the other hallway. Blood pounded past your ears, and it took more than a second to realize there was a figure of a man at the end of the very long and dark corridor.

He took a step forward and the soft moonlight pouring from the window beside him illuminated his figure, and your breath faltered at the sight of the man's smiling face.

"Seonghwa?"

"What are you running away from, y/n?"

You couldn't properly form a reply at his remark, hands reaching up to rub at your tear pricked eyes. A sob bubbled its way up to escape your throat at the sight of your late friend who merely chuckled at your tears.

"Missed me that much, hm?" he mused, shoulders shaking with an amused chortle, "Why don't you come here and give me hug? You know I don't like seeing you cry."

You couldn't help it as a gnawing feeling of unrest settled in the pit of your stomach. A shudder traveled down your spine, goosebumps decorating your arms, and hair standing on the back of your neck. Your mind couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that had you so disturbed, but your body displayed all the signs. His tone felt off, and you realize he's playing with you. Toying with you. A small distant voice in your head told you to get away.

A sudden thought found its ways into your mind.

Where was his shadow?

Sensing your hesitation, the friendly expression on his face soon dropped, making way for a stone-cold frown and unamused eyes.

"Y/n."

His cold voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you take a hesitant step back, words slipping out before you even processed them, "I know you're not real."

The feral look that overtakes his expression has you reeling back, and you took off running in the opposite direction. Glass crunches beneath your shoes as you dashed from corridor to corridor, lungs burning and muscles aching from the rush of adrenaline. He called for you repeatedly, and you didn't dare turn back to see how far he's caught up with you. With every turn, his voice grew louder and closer, before a flash of black sends you flying back onto the floor. Your body skids onto the ground, shards of glass pricking at your skin. With a rush of adrenaline fueling your system, you hardly wince as you scrambled back from the towering figure, glass piercing your skin in the process.

You feel an excruciating burst of pain in your foot, and before you had the opportunity to pull your leg back, he slams his foot down onto your ankle once more, grinding the joint roughly with his boot. A loud cry of pain escapes your throat and you to struggle wildly to escape his unrelenting grip.

You glance up and through your tears, you make out the gleam of a large piece of glass in Seonghwa's hands, his threatening, blown out pupils pinning you down like trapped prey. Turning the large shard in his hand to examine it, he hums sarcastically before peering down at you with a quirked brow, "You know, I'm offended." Kneeling down to your level, he traces your cheek with a glass, watching your skin split at the action and beads of blood oozing out from the scratch, "And here I thought we were such good, close friends."

Without missing a beat, your hands flew to grasp the shard, roughly ripping it into the soft tissue of his eye and slipping past his frame to stagger to the nearest broken window. You hear a groan from behind you as he doubles over in shock, blood overflowing from his ruptured eye and spilling down his scowling face. Pain surged with every step you took, but if this was your only option to escape, you think maybe the idea of couple of broken bones doesn't sound too bad.

Hastily, you stepped over the windowsill, your arms and legs catching on the jagged teeth of glass remaining, your clothes tearing in the process. You took a sharp inhale before curiously taking a look back at Seonghwa one last time. The sight of him lunging after you has you falling forward and out of the window. It felt as if gravity had slowed the pace of your fall, and you held eye contact with Seonghwa as your frame descended down from the third story floor. Darkness fogged your eyesight, his figure vanishing within the black abyss.

The impact hit you like a truck, and you sat up with a loud intake of breath on your warm bed. Your chest heaved heavily as you took in your surroundings. You suddenly realize you're in Wooyoung and Yeosang's shared room that hasn't been occupied in months. Your eyes fall onto your feet, and your brows furrow in confusion as a sudden thought invades your head.

You faintly remember your ankle being crushed, but it seemed to feel just fine now. When you attempted to recall why you thought it had been broken, it felt like your mind was searching for a forgotten and fragmented memory. After calming your breathing and thoughts, you sit up to go and find your friend.

You called Wooyoung's name repeatedly, but the silence you were met with indicated he wasn't home.

Peering into your room, you hoped to find him sleeping, however your eyes landed on the wall, the sight of messily painted words catching your attention almost immediately.

Where there are flowers, there are butterflies.

Painted flowers and butterflies littered the wall, the excess ink dripping down into lines onto the wooden floorboards.

"Do you like it?"

You jumped at the voice behind you, swiftly turning around to meet the sight of a familiar head of blue hair. You stood there, mouth agape as you silently stared long and hard at the man that once held and loved you in his arms. A long silence followed suit, hanging in the air like the calm before a storm. A breeze hardly stirred from the open window and not a sound could be heard save for the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

The forbidding, subtle grin displayed on his features filled you with dread, and the mere sight of him gave your brain a debilitating shock. Your knees couldn't hold your weight any longer, and with buckling limbs, you were sent crashing down onto the floor, the look of disbelief and horror never leaving your expression.

You stared at him but it felt like you couldn't quite focus your gaze on him as he peered down at you in mock pity, a condescending smile playing on his lips. His dark gaze seared you as he crouched down to meet your eye level, hand reaching to cup your cheek as he leaned in to press numerous kisses onto your lips. The gesture was void of the warmth and care you remembered, and you sat still as he trailed fleeting kisses down your the column of your neck, his lips attaching fervently onto your clavicles.

"I missed you so much," you began, catching his attention. Pulling away from your irritated flesh, he quirked his brows at your words, hands brushing the hair out of your face as he let out a chuckle. His finely-chiseled face, illuminated by the oil lamps on the wall, broke into a fond expression. Pulling you close to his frame, he pressed your head against his chest, head dipping to kiss into your hair.

"Do you really?" Your brows furrowed slightly, eyes blinking away the tears as you wrapped your arms around his torso, head pressed against his chest. It's been too long without the feeling of your lover's arms around you. It's just been way too long for you, "If you miss me that much then-"

While nuzzling his chest, you come to realization he lacked a heartbeat, and with that thought striking your mind like lightning, you detached yourself from his form instantly. He eyed your trembling form without any sign of amusement.

"Don't look at me like that!" Cowering back against the wall, you broke into screams of despair, fingers pulling handfuls of your hair as you shook your head rapidly, "You're dead— you're not real!" you slapped the heels of your palms against your temple repeatedly, eyes scrunched shut, "Not real! Not real! This is all just my imagination!"

He released a chilling laugh that traveled down your spine and left your fingers and toes numbingly cold. A sudden gust of wind sent the crispy, autumn leaves scampering wildly into the window while also extinguishing the lamplights that illuminated the room, plunging it into darkness.

You only had a second to register his close proximity, your pupils dilating instantly, before a hand latched onto your throat, ramming your head back against the wall in the process. His vice-like, lithe fingers squeezed around your windpipe, successfully blocking your air flow as you squirmed in his relentless hold, lungs burning and diaphragm spasming.

"You'll join me so we can be together again, hm?"

The fist around your throat choked your response, and he tilted his head with a mocking smile, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

His hold only faltered ever so slightly to give you enough air to speak, "I don't want to die," your reply was a little more than a ghost of a breath.

"But, baby," his fingers coiled around your neck, pressing unforgivingly hard until your darkening vision littered with stars, "don't you realize you're already on the brink of death. Just give in, y/n. Don't keep fighting."

The silence of the atmosphere contributed to the solemnity in the air, and despite the clear blue skies and warm sun, there was a relentless chill in Wooyoung's heart. The black-haired male crouched down over the grave, gently placing a small bundle of roses onto the base of the tombstone.

"Happy birthday, Joong," he mused sadly, his puffy, tired eyes flickering over to the sides where the other tombstones lay.

"I'm so sorry for breaking my promise," he blinked rapidly to rid himself of the stinging tears threatening to spill, nose scrunching slightly as he sniffled, "I should've been there that day- shouldn't have let y/n come here alone- and.."

"You know nothing was your fault, Woo. Stop blaming yourself for something you had no control of."

A hand clutched his shoulder, and he peered with tear-filled eyes to give the blonde male a grateful smile, before turning back to the grave, "Yeosang's awake now though and- and the doctors said that y/n's case isn't as bad as his was, so we have hope."

"Y/n is a stubborn fighter," Yeosang offered the other a small smile, crouching down to rub his trembling friend's back, "Everything will be okay in due time."

"I hope so.. and I hope you'll forgive me, Hongjoong," Wooyoung murmured, watching two small butterflies flutter and chase each other around the blossoming flowers atop of Hongjoong's grave.

[heresathreebee]

Brackish and Briny Waters (five)

[Ralph Lamont x Female Reader]

Summary: Ralph apologizes and you've got baby brains, but sometimes life does nothing but kick you down. Previous Masterlist Next

Tag(s): 16+ | 1.7k words | more angst, baby fever, alcoholism, ghostly vibes

AN: GODDAMN Part 5 took me a lifetime to finish. As always no beta readers just poorly side eyeing this by myself and hoping it makes sense

THE NEXT MORNING

You barely stir when you hear the door open. You've all but forgotten last night, and yet you flinch when Ralphie tries to cuddle with you. He sighs somewhere near your ear and hugs you from behind anyways, lips brushing the nape of your neck and breath fanning over your back as he simply lies there, quiet as the grave. 

There's no bruise but you can still feel his hand gripping your arm from last night. "You're being a huge dick…" 

"... I know." 

That is not good enough. You roll over to face him and watch his face twist when he notices the tract marks of dry tears on your face. He swallows and almost unconsciously takes your hand, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a way that was meant to comfort him rather than you. 

"I'm sorry." He opens his mouth again but he flounders for words. After a deep breath he continues. "We can't call Reagan. Because he won't do anything for us…" 

You wait impatiently for him to explain. 

"Sweetheart, if we called Reagan last night, he would have fucking laughed at us. It is step one down that slippery slope to the couple who cried wolf." He put a hand on your shoulder and looked you in the eye, "do you really think he would have done something?" 

You think about it. If Ralph hadn't stopped you from calling him, what would you have said to Reagan? 

I smelled exhaust fumes. Not an emergency, he would say. 

I think he found us. What do you want me to do about it, too late now, he would ask.  

We're in danger. I'll send a squad upstate, they should be there in 4 hours, he would joke. 

"It was real," you insist. "I smelled fumes." 

"I know. I believe you." 

You squint at him threateningly and he doesn't give an inch. He doesn't seem like he's mocking you. 

Ralph could be an asshole, but Reagan was infinitely worse. At least one of them gave a shit about your safety. The realization Ralph was right scared you more than anything. You were alone in this… 

Well, alone together. 

You sigh and bury your face in his neck. Your hair is tangled as shit and probably tickling his face, but your husband simply wraps you up in a tight embrace and holds you against him. It's all the apology you need. 

END OF THE FIRST MONTH

Adjusting to your new life hit you like a sack of bricks early on a Monday morning. You woke up from a dream where you still lived in your tiny little apartment two minutes walk from everything. In a reality which felt more like a fever dream, Ralph was late for work, donning a tie and tweed jacket and kissing you goodbye for the day. 

You never realized how much space there was in the new master bedroom. In the apartment, a queen sized bed nearly touched the walls and barely left room to creep around two night stands and a dresser, but in the new house you had room to lay on the floor and stretch, maybe put another piece of furniture in here like a bookshelf or something. 

And the whole damn house was like that. You had an entire second floor to claim as your own! There is almost too much space… too much space for just the two of you. 

God there's that thought again drifting into your mind unbidden, unfurling like a fern at the first droplet of sunshine. How many people does it take to turn a house into a home? Three should be plenty, your mind offers. 

You busy yourself with measurements, regrouting the loose tiles in the kitchen floor, and scrubbing the blackened hell out of that downstairs bathroom. It seems to come to life beneath your hands and you can feel yourself getting excited to show guests the improvement. 

The thoughts of turning your little twosome family into three persist over and over until you can't stand it any longer. Maybe it's finally time… 

Ralph's late getting home by 5 minutes instead of 5 hours but he still looks tired. No mud tracks on his pants or hard set eyes. He's halfway up the stairs before you realize he's probably going to bed early. 

"Hey!" 

Ralph stops like it pains him. His head sags and his hold on the railing is tight like he'll fall if he lets go. The way he's wobbling he might. He is barely able to meet your eyes as he glances over his shoulder and when he does he simply grunts. 

"I made dinner," you squeeze your hands together behind your back, "angel hair pasta and that sauce you love." 

Ralph's eyes flicker in thought. "Be down in a second." 

You wait nervously to see if he does come down. What if this is a bad idea? What if he doesn't take you seriously? Oh god what if he hates it, what if he calls you an idiot for even considering it? 

Ralph does come back downstairs, hair wild from running his fingers through it. He seems to gain a small amount of energy while eating, not wanting to talk himself but asking how your day has been going. 

You're definitely rambling right now. Ralph listens and listens, chuckling along but at some point he grows concerned and envelopes your hand with a worried expression on his face. "Jesus, I've never heard so many words come out of your mouth at once, it's like you're writing a dissertation over there. Are you OK, baby?" 

You snap your mouth shut. God, you hadn't even come close to talk about kids for all your rambling. And then there was that weird smell… 

Your blood runs cold as you recognize it. You lean a little closer to Ralph and he almost instinctively flinches away. If there's one thing you are sure of, one thing you could swear on god– Ralph Lamont has never flinched away from a kiss before. So he has something to hide. And that something has a sharp scent and explains his slow reactions and tired eyes better than anything else could. 

"Have you… have you been drinking?" 

It's the way he can't meet your eyes when you ask him. You know. It's beyond out of character, so much so that it's confusing and a little frightening for you. 

A little drink here and there is, to you, to be expected especially considering the wealth of your new company. So why hide it? Is there something else he's not telling you?

You suddenly feel sick and too hot, ripping your hand away from his and getting up to leave the table. 

He knows you get in your head sometimes and practically yells your name to stop you. "I'm… I don't know why I…" 

Ralph sighs and buries his face into his hands, ashamed. All this suspense is twisting knots in your stomach. You sit back down gingerly, taking deep breaths to calm yourself down. 

"Ralph," you warn, "you had better start explaining yourself right now before I lose it." 

Ralph stares a hole into the table and worries his lip. The truth is he doesn't know what to say because he doesn't know why he did it. The students are easy, you are easy. Even in the toughest of times, at his lowest, he didn't drink so… what the fuck was coming over him?, he asked himself. 

Something clicked. It rolled like fire in his belly given dry wood, smoking curling to the top of his throat and out of his ears. "They hate me." 

"Who? Who hates you?" 

"Everyone." 

You looked him in the eye for the first time tonight and saw something dark looking in there. It makes you uneasy. "What makes you think they hate you, baby?" 

Ralph's grip on his fork tightens until his knuckles are white before he gingerly sets the dishware down and deflates. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sardonic grin. 

"You wouldn't understand… and how could you? You never leave the house." He looks at you and there's a growing instability rising in his movements. "You… you don't see it. It started out as little nothings that I could ignore because it didn't matter that they didn't like me: I was new.  

"Then it became lots of these little nothings. Staring and whispering and hushed silences. Tip toeing language and poking and prodding and testing me and my limits and it just… it just… it never got better…" 

Rumors. It dawned on you that his frustration seemed intimately familiar to you as you had had to change schools once or twice due to a few terrible rumors that snowballed and got way out of hand. And you can imagine the sort of rumors that accompany a man with little interest in making friends who has a wife nobody knows anything about. 

If you wanted to stay here long, you would need to change a few minds. You set aside your fear for a moment and make him look at you. You can see the unshed tears in his eyes and feel pity for him. 

"I want to do that dinner party," you announce. "With all that's gone on, you probably didn't have the grand introduction you deserve. Let me show them how much you mean to me." 

Ralph's shaking his head but he already knows you'll win this fight. For him it feels like begging for something he doesn't even want. He agrees because he already promised you could when you were ready and you needed to find new friends asap. 

His sleep that night is fitful and the room's shadows seem to reach out like claws seeking his immortal soul. When the haze of whiskey finally dies down in his system he sleeps dreamless and wakes to feel somehow more hollow with despair than before. 

Ralph Lamont has the distinct feeling things are going to get a hell of a lot worse before anything gets better…

@werwulfy @fundamentally-lazy @escape-your-grape @mimiscappinisideblog @go-commander-kim

[settersprouts]

꒦ ikanaide : chapter three ! ꒦

病欠

. . : iwaizumi gets sick and doesn't tell oikawa. oikawa notices he's not at school and skips practice for the first time to take care of him.

or, iwaizumi doesn't like to take medicine and oikawa can cook.

sniffles. coughs. that's all that could be heard through the iwaizumi household at five am, the time hajime iwaizumi was supposed to be getting ready for school. hanako iwaizumi sighed, not ready to deal with a sick hajime. reluctantly making his way out of the bed he shared with aiya, he got a bucket, a couple of rags, and starting the trek to his son's room.

``hey-`` hanako started, but was interrupted by a coughing fit. ``hajime. how you feeling?``

his son smiled up at him grimly, wiping at the snot in his nose. ``like shit.``

``language.``

``sorry.``

hanako let out another sigh, wringing one of the rags out and placing the damp cloth on his forehead. ``symptoms?``

``cough, sneezing, my nose is runny- and my throat hurts,`` iwaizumi managed, his voice dry and scratchy.

``that bad, huh?`` hanako set the bucket down on the floor, pulling out his phone and thumbing at his screen. ``i'll text your coach and teachers to let them know you can't make it.``

iwaizumi nodded, letting out a small groan. his eyes suddenly flung wide open, and he sat up abruptly, scaring hanako a little. ``don't tell oikawa! he's going to try and skip school to take care of me, i'm sure.``

hanako chuckled, giving his son a little thumbs up and pushing him back down. ``i got it. i'll just let him figure it out himself.``

his son sighed in relief, letting his entire body relax. ``thanks, old man.``

``i'm not old. want some oatmeal?``

``that'd be great. thank you.``

a smile pulled at hanako's lips. ``alright, coming right up, kiddo.`` he made his way out of iwaizumi's room, leaving the door open so air could filter through.

``don't make it sweet! i hate it sweet!``

``i know that!``

hanako made his way into the kitchen, almost running into his wife. ``whoa- oh, good morning, love.``

``morning, hanako.`` aiya yawned, her face contorting into an expression of confusion. ``where's hajime? he should be getting his breakfast ready by now.``

``the kid's sick,`` hanako replied, kissing his wife on the cheek. ``i'm getting him some oatmeal for breakfast.``

aiya nodded, opening a drawer and pulling out a thermometer. she handed it to her husband. ``make sure to take his temperature, too. i want to know if i need to have a doctor over.``

hanako deadpanned, letting out a gruff laugh. ``babe, that's a meat thermometer.``

``oh, is it?`` she smiled apologetically, putting it back and switching it with the other thermometer. ``here, take this, then.``

he reached out to grab at the cool metal, letting it sit in his breast pocket as he got iwaizumi's oatmeal ready. ``can you go get him some cough medicine, or something for his throat? hajime says it's sore.``

his wife nodded, and padded over to the fridge, reaching above it to open the medicine cabinet. she sorted through bottles and bottles of over-the-counter medicine, before finally reaching the cough and sore-throat remedies. pouring a little bit into a plastic cup, aiya put the bottle back and closed the cabinet, placing the cup onto the tray with her son's water glass and oatmeal on it. ``there. have you called hajime's school, yet?``

hanako nodded. ``mhm. already done. hajime doesn't want oikawa-kun to know he's sick yet, so don't tell his mother. knowing her, she'll spill the beans somehow.``

aiya let out a soft laugh, covering her mouth as she did so. ``i understand. he'll probably want to skip school and tend to hajime all day.``

``that boy is something else.``

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

oikawa tapped his foot impatiently, standing at the intersection where he and iwaizumi usually meet up. they were supposed to get there early so oikawa could grab something from the convenience store- it was his nephew's birthday, after all, and he wanted to buy some red velvet cake mix.

he let out a sigh, pulling out his phone to check the messages he had with the ace.

› Messages with : Iwaizumi, Hajime

[Sent:To Oikawa, Toorū] go to sleep already, you idiot

[Sent:To Oikawa, Toorū] i know you're up watching volleyball matches

[Sent:To Oikawa, Toorū] it's late, get some rest or i'll hit you

¹¹⁻³⁹ ᴾᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] yeah, yeah, got it iwa-chan ಠ_ಠ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] you don't have to be so rude, you know

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] and why r u so obsessed w hitting me ?

¹¹⁻⁴⁰ ᴾᴹ

[Sent:To Oikawa, Toorū] goodnight

¹¹⁻⁴⁰ ᴾᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] goodnight, iwa-chan :D

¹¹⁻⁴¹ ᴾᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] morning, iwa (*ﾟｰﾟ)ゞ

⁰⁵⁻³⁰ ᴬᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] where r u 人´∀｀) i'm @ the intersection

⁰⁶⁻⁰⁴ ᴬᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] iwa we're gonna be late i need to go to the store φ(。。*)

⁰⁶⁻⁰⁵ ᴬᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] iwa-chan i'm leaving you >:p

⁰⁶⁻⁰⁷ ᴬᴹ

[Sent:From Oikawa, Toorū] im gonna kill you when i see you

⁰⁶⁻¹³ ᴬᴹ

despite what the messages ensued, he still hadn't left without iwaizumi. he let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. he really had to leave, but he didn't want the ace to be mad once he figured out oikawa had went on without him. oikawa inhaled through his nose, and out through his mouth. pushing aside the fear of a very angry iwaizumi showing up to first period with homicide on his mind.

the sun was rising and starting to shine brightly, slightly blinding oikawa as he glanced at the star. if iwaizumi were here, he would've already been geeking out about it to him, trying to annoy the vice. he wasn't really that obsessed with space and extraterrestrial life, oikawa just liked to annoy his best friends.

``hey, oikawa!`` the setter turned at his name being called, and was instantly greeted with someone running straight into him. arms wrapped around his torso in what he thought was a hug, but couldn't be sure, since all the wind was knocked out of him in the process. familiar tufts of pink-brown hair tickled his nose, and his lips pulled into a small, genuine smile. he wrapped his arms around the attacker's torso, too, breathing in the scent he considered a second home.

``hey, makki. morning.`` oikawa smiled, pulling away to see his friend's beaming face.

hanamaki linked arms with oikawa, pulling him along. ``c'mon, we're going to be late for class!``

oikawa looked down at his phone, checking the time. 06:19 AM, it read. ``makki, it's only six twenty. we have plenty of time.``

``but..`` makki groaned, making a big show of rolling his head back and exposing his neck to the sky. whether or not that was an impression of oikawa on one of his days, oikawa may never know. ``we can be early for once.``

``class doesn't start until seven thirty.`` oikawa sang, pulling away from makki's grip and dragging him along. ``plus, i gotta get something from the store for takeru's birthday.``

his companion made an 'o' shape with his mouth, succumbing to oikawa's charms and letting himself be lead to the nearest store. ``nice. what are you getting?``

``cake mix. red velvet.``

``red velvet? holy shit, can i come to the party?`` hanamaki gasped, giving his friend his full attention now. oikawa laughed, and nodded.

``yeah. i was planning on inviting you and mattsun anyways.`` he replied, scratching the back of his neck. ``iwa-chan gets a free pass, since my mom knows him.``

makki gasped in mock offense, holding his free hand to his heart. ``she knows me too! how come i don't get a free pass? does she not like me?``

oikawa shrugged. ``well, you're kind of.. how can i say this. um-`` he laughed nervously, ``-too energetic, for her taste?``

``this is atrocious. i even did her dishes for her, once.``

``key word, once.`` oikawa retorted, eyeing the store up ahead. ``oh hey, look, there's sakanoshita. think we'll find cake mix there?``

hanamaki shrugged.  ``probably. doesn't karasuno's coach work there?``

oikawa nodded. ``hopefully tobio-chan didn't stop by on his way to school. i think i might throw up if i see him.``

``how immature.``

the two of them made their way into the small store, muttering a little "pardon the intrusion!" to the staff, who turned out to be a short, older woman, not karasuno's coach. they both let out a sigh of relief- anything could've happened if it was ukai who was sitting in the little swivel chair behind the counter. possibly just them having to endure the shameless torments from the latter, but who knows.

oikawa and hanamaki glanced at the small signs labeling the aisles, quickly finding the one they were looking for and walked down to the middle, where all the cake mixes lay. the captain sifted through the red velvet mixes while the other eyed the brownie batter with starry eyes. oikawa skimmed the backs of four boxes he settled on, tossing them all into the little basket he had picked up as soon as they walked in. turning to his partner, he couldn't help but let the wide smile overcome his facial features. hanamaki was practically drooling at the pictures of the brownies on the boxes.

he padded over to the wing-spiker and picked up a box, tossing it into the basket as well and waltzed out of the aisle- hanamaki at his heels. ``whoa, are you seriously buying that for me?``

oikawa shook his head. ``for me. to make for you when you come over later.`` he stuck out his tongue at his partner, smiling at the laugh he was able to get out of him.

``sure, whatever you say.``

the captain turned to the lady at the desk, reading the nametag on her shirt. hana sakanoshita. ah. so she was the owner. sakanoshita smiled at him, taking the bag out of his hands and scanning the barcodes on the backs of the boxes. ``find everything okay, honey?``

``yep, great, thank you! could we also get two packs of that strawberry gum?`` he pointed, putting on one of his award-winning smiles. she seemed to melt at this and nodded, quickly bagging up his stuff and handing his credit card back.

``you have a good day, boys.`` she said, waving at them as they exited. the two smiled and waved back, turning towards aoba johsai and resuming their trek.

hanamaki checked his phone, letting out a sharp whistle. ``nice. we didn't take as long as i expected- we have fifteen minutes 'till first period.``

oikawa grinned. ``told you so.``

``yeah, yeah. oh- by the way, where's iwaizumi?`` hanamaki looked around as if he were looking for the teen, turning back to oikawa once he figured out he really wasn't there with them. ``he walks with you, right?``

the latter shrugged, pulling out his own gum pack and popping a strip into his mouth. ``dunno. he didn't show at the intersection where we meet up, so i just went along without him. he didn't answer any of my texts, either.``

``huh.`` hanamaki said, putting his index finger and thumb on his chin in a thinking pose. ``that's weird. maybe he overslept?``

``doubt it. the man sleeps with his phone on so loud, he'll wake up immediately as soon as he hears one of my texts. plus, he has like, fifty alarms back-to-back to wake him up.`` oikawa replied, shutting down makki's theory so fast, he didn't even see it coming.

makki sighed. ``ah. i see.`` he shook his head as to clear his mind of any stray thoughts, and extended his hand. ``i want some gum. hand it over, peasant.``

``yes, my lord.`` oikawa said jokingly, gracefully whipping out the pack of strawberry gum and placing it in his hands. he folded makki's fingers around it, never breaking eye contact with his teammate. ``here it is. do what you wish with it.``

the two snickered at their antics, slinging their arms around one another. ``we're so going to be late.``

``yeah, probably.``

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

``oh, yeah, we're so sorry ms. sato. we got stuck in traffic- there was an accident over by my house.`` makki sighed dramatically, shaking his head slightly. ``we would've gotten a late pass, but we didn't think we were going to be so late.``

ms. sato shook her head quickly, smiling at the teen. ``it's okay, hanamaki-kun. just try not to let this happen too much, okay?``

hanamaki nodded. ``yes, ma'am.`` oikawa mentally facepalmed at his antics, and the two walked to the back to sit down in their seats, next to matsukawa, who was struggling to keep a laugh in.

``jesus,`` matsukawa breathed, ``the amount of bullshit in that was immaculate.``

``right?`` he and hanamaki fistbumped, grinning widely like the idiots they were.

oikawa sighed, turning his head slightly to talk to iwaizumi, then stopping himself before he could say anything. iwaizumi's desk stood empty next to his own. the captain frowned, checking his phone for any recent texts from the ace. nothing popped up.

makki slung an arm over oikawa, concern lining his features. ``hey, what's up?``

``he still isn't here.`` he pointed to iwaizumi's desk, the frown growing by the minute. ``and he's not answering. makki, i'm worried.``

a head full of black, unruly hair obscured the view he had of his phone. matsukawa laughed, stepping back. ``so he didn't tell you guys?`` when hanamaki and oikawa looked at him with confused expressions, he chuckled, and continued. ``guys, he's sick. coach was talking about it with ms. sato this morning. if you got here earlier you would've known.``

the captain facepalmed. ``of course, that makes sense. why couldn't he have told me though?``

``dunno.`` mattsun ignored the small pout resting on his captain's lips, shoving at his shoulder a bit. ``lighten up. he probably didn't want you to skip school and take care of him.``

oikawa let out a puff of air. ``yeah, okay. you're probably right.`` he was about to continue but ms. sato had started class, and a comfortable silence fell upon them as they gave the woman their full attention. makki and mattsun glanced at oikawa, worry clearly etched on their faces. perhaps they shouldn't have told him what happened with his best friend.

``oikawa,`` ms. sato supplied, stalking over to his desk and setting two thick packets on the hard wood. ``here's iwaizumi-kun's work. i trust you'll be able to get this to him?``

the latter sighed, looking up towards his sensei with the fakest smile he could muster. ``yes, sato-san, i'll give this to him as soon as i see him.``

ms. sato smiled, patting the boy's head and walking back to the front of the class. ``alright, so, has anyone written down the notes on the board?``

oikawa glanced at the chalkboard, internally groaning as he noticed it was completely filled with notes. where the hell did she find the time to write all that?

he let out the fifth-hundredth sigh that day, picking up his pencil and getting to work. iwaizumi totally owed him.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

``you want to, what?`` coach irihata stared at his pupil, shock painting his features. oikawa stood before him, fumbling with his practice clothes, a faint blush plastered over his cheeks and nose. ``you want to skip practice?``

``yes.`` oikawa nodded. ``it's only for today, so i can go home and take care of iwa-chan. he has a lot of work to catch up on,`` he added, holding up the many papers he had collected from his professors in each class, since his and iwaizumi's timestables were identical.

irihata stared at him some more, then shook his head quickly, smiling at him. ``alright. i don't see why not.``

oikawa brightened, clearly glad by the news. ``thank you so much! i promise i'll make it up to you!`` he chimed, switching his volleyball shoes for a pair of regular sneakers. ``all your meals this week, on me!``

``you don't have to- and he's out the door.`` irihata sighed, glancing at the now agape gym door. the warm afternoon breeze rushed in, leaving an unpleasant, humid feeling. mizoguchi came up behind him, watching oikawa sprint off into the distance. ``that boy is something else, isn't he?``

``definitely.`` mizoguchi laughed, walking forward to close the doors. ``iwaizumi's lucky to have a good friend like him.``

the older coach nodded. ``we're all glad to know him.``

dammit, someone's talking about me, oikawa thought, as he sneezed for the seventh time since leaving aoba johsai. he rubbed his nose, pissed off at the irritation of his sensitive organ. his legs already burned- he had sprinted all the way to the intersection, and was now leaning on a streetlamp, catching his breath. he probably should've put on his knee brace if he knew he was going to exert a little energy on running home, but he was in a rush.

pulling out his phone, he quickly navigated to his email, frowning at the lack of messages from his dear friend hajime iwaizumi. he hadn't read the texts either, so he probably was really exhausted. slipping the device back into his pocket, he started the rest of his trek home, popping another strip of gum into his mouth.

the grocery bag swinging on his arm contained all the contents oikawa thought iwaizumi would need : some cough and cold medicine, a couple of boxes of tissues, a mask for himself, disposable rags, and a heating pad. the materials cost him about ¥800 each, which wasn't that expensive.

finally, after what had seemed like forever, the captain had arrived at iwaizumi's house. there were no cars in the driveway, which meant his parents weren't home. what were they thinking, leaving poor iwa-chan alone while he's sick? oikawa frowned at this. what a silly idea.

he flipped up the doormat, grabbing the key that was strategically placed underneath and unlocked the door. pushing it open, he let out a little ``yahoo~ anyone home?`` to let iwaizumi know he was there. he wasn't expecting a reaction, so seeing iwaizumi come downstairs to greet him kind of scared him out of his wits a little bit.

``jesus! iwa-chan, can't you warn a dude first?`` oikawa panted, placing a hand over his heart. the ace deadpanned, walking over and snatching the bags out of his hands.

``what the hell do you think you're doing here? i'm sick, go home.`` he retorted, his eyebrows furrowing so much, they looked like they were attached to his eyes. he sifted through the bag, pausing once he realized what the plastic bag contained. ``what is this?``

oikawa rolled his eyes, taking the bag back and setting its' contents on the kitchen counter. ``it's for you. you're sick, so i decided to skip practice to come here and take care of you, and to reteach everything that you missed today.`` he replied nonchalantly, shoving iwaizumi towards the direction of his bedroom. ``go back to bed, i'll cook you some lunch, since i'm sure you didn't eat yet.``

iwaizumi didn't reply, because (a) he was right. and (b) he was shocked that the toorū oikawa skipped volleyball practice for him.

``anyways,`` oikawa said, opening his fridge and scanning its' contents. ``how do you feel about egg?``

``i can eat it. i don't feel nauseous or anything,`` iwa replied, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. ``and wait- you're going to cook?``

the setter turned around, tying an apron around his waist. ``yeah?``

iwaizumi blinked, shaking his head and leaning down on his forearms. ``nothing. continue. don't burn down my kitchen.``

oikawa grinned, having just been granted permission to make his best friend's food. ``alright! on it, iwa-chan!``

``shut up and start cooking.``

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

``you have to take it, iwa-chan!``

``NO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!`` iwaizumi jumped onto his couch, holding a fork towards oikawa like a weapon. ``GET THAT THING AWAY FROM ME.``

oikawa let out yet another sigh. ``jeez, if i knew you were going to be this bratty about taking your medicine, i wouldn't have came.`` he took another dangerous step towards iwaizumi, holding out a glass of water and a small cup of liquid cough medicine. ``iwa-chan, if you don't take this, you'll never get better.``

``so? that thing's disgusting.`` iwaizumi fake-retched, the look of disgust on his face almost believable. he should've taken the drama course at school.

another step. ``you seem to have forgotten that i have a kid nephew, who i always got to take his medicine, no matter how big of a tantrum he threw about it.`` another step. ``you're acting like a toddler. just take your medicine and get better.``

``assikawa, if you so as much take one more goddamn step towards me, i'll kill you.`` iwaizumi growled, clenching the fork tighter. of course he wouldn't kill him, he'd just said that to frighten him. somehow, oikawa didn't seemed phased, and took another step.

``hajime iwaizumi. if you don't come down off that couch and take your medicine right now, so help me god, i will bring my mother here and she will be furious when she realizes how much of a tantrum you're putting up right now.`` the setter mused, shaking the glass of water like he was calling him towards him, like a dog. iwaizumi gulped. the aura surrounding oikawa was downright terrifying. his eyes seemed almost lifeless, and it scared the wits out of him. ``on the count of three. if you haven't taken the medicine by then, i'm calling her. one.``

iwaizumi flinched, backing up slightly. could he make it out the front door without oikawa catching him? probably not. his legs were longer, so he'd cover more ground easily.

``two.``

how bad would the punishment be if he just didn't take the medicine? it's not like oikawa would actually call his mother, he wouldn't do that. right?

``three-``

``okay!`` iwaizumi jumped off the couch, grabbing the medicine and pouring it down his throat. he made a face of disgust, snatching the glass of water out of his hand and gulping that down too. he shuddered, trying to force himself to keep the atrocious liquid down. ``there. happy?``

``very.`` oikawa grinned, patting iwaizumi's head. ``good job.``

the ace burned with pride at the praise, letting oikawa's nimble fingers tread through his hair. ``thanks for coming over.``

``of course.`` his friend replied, giving the shorter a warm hug. ``don't mention it. i'll skip practice for you every time.``

``you better not.``

oikawa smiled. ``no promises.``

─── sick day.

chapter 4 !

[one-boring-person]

I Trust You.

Marko (The Lost Boys) x Chiraptophobic!reader

Warnings: very vague mention of abuse, but they do not apply to the reader necessarily.

Context: The reader suffers from chiraptophobia (the fear of physical human contact/touch) and has somehow found themself in a friendship with Marko, who has somehow managed to understand how to not constantly need to touch his friend to show affection, until they take a ride on the Ferris wheel.

A/N: This was interesting to write, so j hope it's turned out alright. I guess I took a little inspiration from Death Stranding's Sam, but I thought it would be fun to do which it was. I hope it's enjoyable!😊💛

Masterlist

It took Marko weeks to finally figure out why I always shied away from his advances, why I'd stared uncomfortably at his offered hand until he withdrew it when he'd tried to shake mine in greeting, why I always wore gloves even in the suffocatingly hot summer air (despite him doing the same), and why I wouldn't go near people I don't know personally, often doing my hardest to steer clear of others in general. Rather than ask, he tried to work it out for himself, observing my behaviour and mannerisms for hours on end, though he still couldn't get what was up with my actions. He'd had to ask for some help from the others, though only David and Dwayne could offer any plausible reasons as to why: maybe I'd been abused in my past and was now averse to unfamiliar human contact, or maybe I was a germophobe. When the young vampire had asked me about both, I'd quickly denied them, thinking that it is unlikely he'd understand the real reason for my odd behaviour. It was only when he saw another person try to shake my hand that he finally noticed the emotion passing through my eyes at the prospect, at which point it all clicked into place. I was afraid of the contact.

Explaining to him what chiraptophobia is was surprisingly easy, though he was a little disappointed by this fact, being a very touch-driven person when around others, even when not in a relationship, though he did manage to take it in his stride, taking time to inform the boys of this as well, in case one of them accidentally made me uncomfortable. He'd nearly ripped Paul's head off when the taller vampire tried to wrap his arm around my shoulders, only letting up when I told him it was alright, that there was no harm done, despite how uneasy I felt afterwards. Since then, Marko has become almost like a bodyguard for me, making sure no one ever comes into my personal space, all while keeping his distance, too, respecting my limits.

We became fast friends, so much so that he eventually told me his secret, revealing his true self to me on one of the nights we chose to hang out together, alone, on the beach, a night I'd never forget. Naturally, I'd been shaken by this revelation, but soon grew used to the idea, knowing that my friend would never hurt me, not intentionally. After a few months, I finally felt comfortable enough to let him touch my gloved hand, though it still made me feel a little uneasy, the sensation of another person's fingers on mine unfamiliar and disturbing to me, but it made the vampire unbelievably happy, a bright smile plastering itself across his face for the rest of the night. He tells me he had to fight off the urge to hug me, for which I'm very grateful - touching a covered hand is very different to being enveloped in an embrace. Since then, he's taken any chance he can get to hold or touch my hand, always beaming like a beacon when he does so, my discomfort in the contact fading a little over time, though I'd soon found that it was only with the curly haired blonde that my body reacted like this, having asked Dwayne to try at some point, to see if it improved overall. Having come up negative in this test, I gave contact one last try with David, who never seems to take off his gloves, only to find that his touch made me uneasy as much as Dwayne's had, despite the two layers of cloth between our respective fingertips. The memory still sets me on edge, though I am well aware it has nothing to do with either David or Dwayne, rather my own mentality.

A shiver goes up my spine as I feel a hand slip into mine, though I quickly recognise the young vampire stepping in beside me, my stance relaxing again when my body realises whose touch it is, though my arm still remains a little tense, out of habit. Reassuringly, Marko swipes a thumb over the back of my glove, glad that I haven't rejected the contact yet, meaning I'm doing better than normal.

"Hey Stranger." He greets, grinning widely at me.

"Hey Blondie." I reply, smiling back at him in return, before casting a quick glance around for the others, "What'd you do with the other three?"

"They're around. Not sure where." The young vampire shrugs, dismissing the question quickly, "How was your day?"

"Not too bad. I didn't get much work done though, I was too preoccupied."

"Preoccupied? With what?" Marko inquires, raising an eyebrow at me in confusion, though his lips are still quirked up into an amused curve.

"That's for me to know, and for you to figure out." I chuckle, tapping the side of my nose secretively.

"Challenge accepted." He smirks, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

I smile at him as we walk, knowing he'll figure it out eventually, the answer being a little closer to home than he thinks.

"Anyway, how'd you sleep?" I question him, eyeing the Ferris wheel off to the side of the Boardwalk.

"Better than usual, actually."

"Oh yeah? How come?"

"Paul didn't snore so much for once, and David wasn't muttering in his sleep either, so it was pretty quiet, altogether." He explains, smiling when I laugh at the mention of David.

"Wait, David talks in his sleep?"

"Yeah, but you can't tell anyone! And especially don't tell him that I told you, or I'll have my ass kicked to the moon and back." Marko grins, biting his thumb as if nervous, though I'm aware that this is one of his signature mannerisms.

"That's a lot of ass-kicking. Probably quite impressive to watch. " I muse, noticing his arm lift slightly, as if to give me a playful slap on the arm, as he normally would've done with someone else, only to briefly squeeze my hand instead, shaking his head in mock exasperation. I grin at him, before turning my gaze back towards the Ferris wheel, admiring the glittering lights in the black night sky, wondering what the view is like up there.

"Wanna take a ride?" Marko interrupts my thoughts, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Huh?" I blurt out, not having heard his question, quickly snapping my eyes back to his.

"Do you wanna go on the wheel with me?" He repeats, gesturing with a nod of the head to the great circular structure a little way away.

"I would love to, but I don't have any money on me tonight. I forgot my change." I say, somewhat remorsefully, using my free hand to pat my pockets to check for any loose coins, though I'm well aware I have none, having spent it all on food earlier in the evening.

"Who said anything about you paying? Come on, it'll be fun!" The blonde vampire promises, pulling me into the crowd, which parts around us thanks to his reputation (and choice of company), meaning no one comes into touching distance. At one point, my arm brushes past some surfer's bare bicep, which sends uncomfortable shivers and goosebumps through my body, the bitter, irrational fear that comes with it soon biting at the back of my mind, my pulse picking up slightly in response, my muscles turning rigid under my clothes. Marko notices this, briefly stopping to make sure I'm ok, before turning to memorize the surfer's face, most likely intending to take it up with him later, before we continue on, swiftly reaching the shortening queue for the Ferris wheel. Beside me, Marko fidgets and shifts in place, clearly eager to get on the rotating structure, his thumb between his teeth as usual, doe eyes focused on the ticket booth.

"Calm down, Blondie. The wheel isn't going anywhere." I laugh, watching the people around us as they amble to and fro, inching out of the way as a group of made-up girls push past, wincing as I brush against Marko, only to feel surprised when I don't feel the usual discomfort rising up in me from the contact, setting a train of thought into motion. I barely notice as the queue diminishes, only really returning to the present when we reach the booth, at which point Marko buys two tickets and leads me into one of the seats. An attendant comes over to help us secure ourselves, but Marko quickly stares him down, doing the job himself with efficiency.

Not too long after, we've reached a decent way off from the ground, our feet swinging gently in the air as we watch the Boardwalk from above, grinning and joking with each other as we take it in turns pointing out random individuals, making comments about them until the other laughs. At one point, the young vampire manages to spot David, Dwayne and Paul, making some sort of remark about how the leader's hair "looks like a pineapple from the top", before comparing the latter's to a mop. I do my best to hold back my laughter, but it only results in me nearly choking as he starts pointing out more and more likenesses between his friends and everyday objects, tears threatening to spill as I struggle to contain myself. It is only in this moment, that I realise one thing, but it takes me a couple more minutes to act on the thought that has sprung to mind.

Slowly, I pull off my left glove, teasing each finger out of their designated space with a deliberate hesitation, wriggling them a bit once I've exposed them to the air, enjoying the sensation of the light breeze around my heated digits. Marko makes a point of ignoring this, turning his gaze up to the star-strewn sky instead, only to snap his eyes back to mine when he feels a single finger touch the skin of his hand. Gingerly, I trace it over his knuckle, expecting to feel a rush of discomfort, my movements careful and calculated, knowing this is the first time in years that I've had deliberate contact with another person's skin. From my fingertip, it feels as if an electric shock has travelled through me, butterflies suddenly appearing in my stomach. Biting my lip when nothing bad happens, I continue this movement with the rest of my fingers, cautiously slipping my hand into his, enjoying the feeling of his icy cold palm against my warmed one, my eyes finding his shocked ones as our fingers intertwine. In them, I find a tonne of questioning, though he makes no move to actually ask, instead remaining quiet, carefully tightening his grip around my hand as he tries his best to feel as much of my soft skin as he can, the calluses from the handlebars of his bike rubbing slightly.

"What does this mean?" He eventually queries, elated that he can finally hold my hand without a glove being in the way.

"It means that I trust you. I've had no reaction to your contact, and I think it's because I enjoy being with you, and also because you've increased my confidence levels a lot since we first met. I've been trying to figure out why I'm ok with you touching me and no one else all day, which is why I was too preoccupied to work, but I finally worked it out." I inform him, telling him part of the truth - in reality, my trust goes a lot further than wanting a platonic friendship.

Marko is quiet for a moment, as if not quite understanding what I've told him.

"You trust me?" His voice is laced with disbelief, eyes fixing on mine again.

"I do."

Eyes widening again, he smiles, his other hand coming up, as if to try and wrap me in a hug, but the awkward positioning of the barrier, as well as the reminder of my usual discomfort, stop him in his tracks, his hand tightening around mine instead .

"I'm really glad you feel that way, (Y/n). Not many people do." He chuckles, referring to the naturally predatory air he gives off, being a vampire and all, still surprised that I let him touch me.

"I feel safe around you because I know you're my friend, but not many people can have the same claim." I point out, watching the view a little, enjoying the sight of the many glittering lights sprawled out before me, admiring the tiny orange specks of fires on the beach, as well as the rapidly moving headlights of a train passing through the outskirts of Santa Carla, most likely heading out towards the Bridge.

"Fair point." Marko agrees, still staring at our joined hands, which he continues to do until we reach the bottom of the wheel again, at which point he has to let go in order to remove the barrier from our laps. As soon as we're back on the Boardwalk, however, I slip my hand back into his, a small feeling of warmth welling up in me as I see the bright smile splitting his face, clearly happy that I've willingly made contact with him again.

A whistle behind us draws our attention, the sound belonging to a grinning Paul, who approaches us, along with David and Dwayne, who are both smiling at the sight of us, the latter more so than the former, though both seem glad to see their friend happy. As they come closer, I make eye contact with Dwayne, who lifts an eyebrow in questioning, a smirk making its way onto his face when I silently give him a nod, knowing he understands what it means.

I've fallen hard for the blonde vampire who's helped me get over my fear.

[lover-of-skellies]

Buckle up, bros. It's angst hour, and boy have I got something to share with you

So I was just listening to music, and I decided to revisit the song "Gone Away" by Five Finger Death Punch. These were the lyrics that made the wheels in my brain start turning

And I had this absolutely heart wrenching realization: Famine and Pestilence. It's like part of their backstories, since Famine lost everyone he cared for to a genocide run, including his own life and his Papyrus, and Pestilence lost his entire AU, everyone he ever cared for, his sense of self/identity, his life, and his own Papyrus as well

While Famine could occasionally visit his abandoned/empty home AU and pay respects to his dead brother that way, Pestilence has nothing. He might have a familiar scarf tucked away somewhere, but he hesitates to touch it most of the time for fear that he'll taint it somehow

Maybe Pestilence would pay his respects to his own dead brother by going somewhere that he'd always talked about wanting to go. He's just really quiet and uncharacteristically serious for several days before taking off, and he takes the scarf with him. Death and Famine probably know what's going on, but War doesn't, and since no one tells her anything, she gets curious and decides to follow Pestilence. When he reaches his destination and War finally understands what's going on, he reveals that he knew she was there the whole time

He probably says something kinda rude, being caught up in his emotions and all, and rather than fighting back like she would've normally done, she chooses to let go of her pride and hug him, not saying a single word. When he latches onto her and tries to bury his face in her shoulder, she realizes he's actually crying, and seeing someone like him in a state like that probably makes her pretty sad too

Or alternatively, if she were to follow Famine instead, she manages to even slip inside his old house and makes it upstairs. She peeks into the room he went into and sees him sitting on the edge of a racecar bed, a wadded up scarf on the pillow and a storybook of some sort sitting open beside him. He's dead silent, just staring off into space and looking completely lost. When she actually makes her presence known, he's momentarily startled and slides back in front of the pillow with the scarf on it, as if he was trying to protect/shield it

War very slowly approaches the bed, sits beside him, and stays quiet, waiting for him to say something first. At some point, she sees him pick up the storybook and zone out again, and she very gently asks if he could read it to her. He's confused and tries to deny it for a bit at first, but when he starts reading and she watches him slip into it, it's like he becomes a totally different person. Instead of being scary, intense, and dangerous looking, he looks at peace, much gentler than she'd ever seen before, and even happy, to a degree

When the story's over, he doesn't seem to wanna put the book down, and he goes back to looking completely lost and broken again

[one-boring-person]

Distraction.

David (the Lost Boys) x reader (kind of - mostly all of them x reader, but specifically David.)

Warnings: blood imagery, depressive themes, death, alcohol and drug use (some)

Context: This is set in the same storyline as my previous Lost Boys oneshot, but takes place prior to that one. (Y/n) finds herself in need of a distraction after a hunt goes wrong, and the boys are only too happy to provide one.

I barely feel the cool ocean breeze around me as it blows past, my mind too preoccupied to care about the chills running up and down my arms, the shivering in my muscles going completely unnoticed beneath the confines of my thin leather jacket. In my ears, the low crashing of the waves against the sandy shore lulls me into a trance of sorts, my eyes not registering anything in front of me, instead replaying the images of the past couple of hours at a torturing frequency. A sour taste lingers in my throat and mouth, the metallic undertones only reminding me of the gore coating my arms and chest, the odours floating up from the clothes sticking to my body making me feel nauseous, even if I have smelt them many times before.

An uncomfortable stiffness encompasses my fingers and arms, the dried blood cracking as I finally move, even if it’s only a little, my body screaming at me to get up and pace around as I usually do; I unconsciously push these urges down as I subject myself to yet another barrage of disturbing images. Flashes of a tall figure bearing down on a cowering, whimpering child, agonized screams and gushing blood rush, uninvited, into my head, vivid images of my hand driving a stake through the cruel vampire's heart after it tries to tear my arm from my body swiftly following, the horrifying sensation of the limp, lifeless child's body in my arms accompanying the bitter grief in my mind. In despair, I drop my head to my chest, holding my knees tighter to my body as I fight the urge to cry, imagining the pure grief and sorrow the helpless mother of the victim will feel when she finds her son lying prone in an alleyway, his five-year old body mangled and stone cold. Shame wells up in me at my own cowardice, my heart-wrenching shock at my inability to save a life taking away the confidence in me to move him to a safer, more appropriate space.

Somewhere behind me, I hear the familiar roar of motorcycle engines on the boardwalk, a few cries of protest following them, though I know the drivers couldn’t care less. Their presence on the Boardwalk only serves to increase the weight on my heart, knowing that they’d be keen to know how my hunt turned out. It takes them a little while to figure out where I am, probably finding my abandoned motorbike against the railing near the steps first, only to then wonder where the hell I am in correlation to this. I start to count in my head, trying to calm myself a little before they inevitably find me, still struggling to concentrate on the numbers forming in my mind.

I get to eighty seven before a shout behind me snaps me from my thoughts, but I don’t turn, recognising the voice as Marko's, the younger vampire's voice laced with confusion. Four sets of heavy footsteps approach me, stopping a couple of metres away as I finally acknowledge them by lifting my head from my chest, waiting for them to start the exchange.

“(Y/n)?” Paul's usually cheerful voice is edged with the most worry I’ve ever heard before, the vampire probably itching to move forwards and talk to me face to face.

“The vampire is dead.” I report to them, monotonously, my own voice sounding strange to my ears.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Marko questions after a couple of minutes of silence, the news having sunk into them. Dwayne and David remain silent, the two of them more perceptive than the others, realising something went wrong in the process.

“Sure.” I respond, tightening my grip around my legs once more.

More silence follows, until I hear the sound of them coming closer, my body instinctively tensing when I realise they’ve sat in a line either side of me, David and Paul to my left, Dwayne and Marko to my right. None of them say anything for a moment, staying sat in surprisingly comfortable quiet whilst I try and get used to their proximity, confused as to their response – normally, the vampires couldn’t care less about me as long as I do my job, though they have shown more interest in my personal life as of late, sometimes even trying to hang out with me for an hour or two before I leave the Boardwalk. To say this weirded me out would be an understatement.

"Who's blood is that, (Y/n)? What happened to the kid?" David eventually asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft and quiet.

I turn to look at him in faint surprise at his words, unable to make out his expression in the dark, though I can tell from his tone that he is sincere.

Sighing, I reply;

"He was preying on the kid, a little five year old boy. I couldn't get there in time." My jaw clenches at the confession, still disgusted by my own inability, "How'd you know it was a kid?"

"Years of practice in telling the difference between adults and kids." Dwayne chips in, the rest agreeing with him quietly, choosing to remain silent, until David speaks again.

"And where are you injured?"

His question surprises me, being unaware of a wound myself, though his words do return my attention to the brief battle with the enemy vampire: he'd tried to attack me, only to latch onto my shoulder instead of my neck when I fail to get my arm up in time, still shocked from before. It was then that I'd shoved the stake as far into his black heart as possible.

At the memory, I become aware of the pain coursing through my shoulder, a wince escaping me, despite my better judgement, as I reach up to poke at it, feeling the torn hole in my clothes with trepidation.

"My shoulder." I finally reply, pulling my hand away from it so that I can find something to patch the injury up with. Noticing, the boys swiftly rummage in their pockets, Marko beating them to it as he hands me a strip of cloth - presumably a scarf from a previous victim.

"Here."

"Thanks." I say to him, giving him a brief, tense smile in the dark, knowing he'll see it, pulling my jacket off of my arm to reveal the injury. Awkwardly, I try to bandage it up, only to curse when I struggle to do so one handed,  a surprised gasp leaving me when Dwayne wordlessly leans forwards and takes the scarf from me, wrapping it deftly around the inflicted area.

"Thank you." I repeat, softly, slightly embarrassed at my predicament. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the vampire sniff at the blood that has come off on his hands, wiping it on his jeans with some hesitation when he notices me watching.

For a little while longer, we stay silent, relishing in each other's company as we sit and look out at the darkened horizon, the five of us somehow enjoying the moment of tranquillity between us. Paul is the first to start moving, the vampire fidgeting and shifting as he starts to get uncomfortable sitting in the sand, followed by Marko, then Dwayne, and finally David, who is the first to break the silence once more.

"Wanna come back with us for a bit?"

His offer catches me off guard, my head snapping around sceptically to look at him, though I still can't see him.

"Why?" I try to keep my voice from sounding too suspicious, but it is obvious in the undertones of the question.

"Might prove a decent distraction for the night." He responds, shrugging visibly for me to see, "We won't try anything, you have my word."

Normally, I'd turn him down in an instant, but after today, the sound of being with other people, even if they are technically my enemies, makes the decision for me, a sound of agreement leaving my lips before I can stop it.

Almost in unison, the vampires stand, David turning to me and offering me his leather-clad hand with an unfamiliar politeness, wriggling his fingers when I hesitate to take it, a low chuckle resonating in my ears from him at my reaction. Cautiously, I place my hand in his, barely feeling the sensation of the cool leather beneath my fingers and palm under all the dried gore already coating them, grunting slightly when the vampire swiftly pulls me upright, my free hand instinctively coming to rest against his chest as our resulting position is slightly too close for comfort, though, surprisingly, I feel a few butterflies flutter in my stomach at the proximity. Hastily, I remove myself from him, trying to ignore the blush creeping into my cheeks, looking away from him so he won't see it

"To the motorbikes!" Paul cheers, his characteristically cheerful persona returning as we make our way to the Boardwalk, his loud voice making me smile, almost out of affection. A jokingly exasperated noise floats up from the others, Marko moving around to give his friend a shove, giggling when Paul nearly faceplants the sandy beach beneath his feet. Immediately, the latter growls and moves to grab hold of the smaller vampire,the former shrieking in mock fear before running off, a chase ensuing as they race towards the emptying Boardwalk. A glance at my watch reveals the time to be close to half twelve, though it feels later oddly enough, my mind lethargic and tired even though I'm normally up much longer than I have been today - a "perk" of the job.

Upon reaching the concrete surface of the popular attraction, the three of us that are left head over to the motorbikes parked along the railing, mine a little way away from theirs - though I quickly bring the Triumph motorcycle in line with theirs - in order to wait for the less mature members of the group to catch up with us. Idly, I trace along the line of the handlebars, ignoring the odd looks from those passing by, my bloodied appearance probably quite disturbing to those who don't know me as a regular, my choice of company for the night even stranger to those who do.

"Finally." Dwayne murmurs suddenly, his sharper hearing picking out the approaching vampires amongst the thinning crowd, my eyes finding them a few seconds later, Paul's hair being hard to miss. Grinning, the two of them sidle up to their motorcycles, mounting them with almost sheepish smirks when they notice David and Dwayne's pointed stares, shooting me an apologetic look in response.

"Ready?" David inquires, raising an eyebrow at me when I kick the bike into gear, the engine roaring as a small smile creeps onto my face.

"Born ready."

Smirking at my response, David switches his own on, revving the engine before speeding off towards the steps, Dwayne, Paul and Marko following suit, maniacal laughs erupting from them as they nearly knock pedestrians off their feet. Taking a deep breath, I push up the accelerator, pursuing them at speed as we careen off of the Boardwalk and onto the beach, my tyres only just gripping the sand, the impact jolting me forwards a little, causing a spear of pain to lance through my shoulder. Ignoring it, I accelerate faster, a cry of exhilaration bursting from me at the sensation of the wind in my hair and on my bare skin, my troubles momentarily forgotten as I focus on keeping up with the gang's motorbikes - though I know mine can easily outrun their's on solid land, it's a different story on sand.

Calls of encouragement and ecstasy at the thrill mingle with the guttural growling of our engines as we hurtle across the beach, our headlights throwing odd shadows on the ground around us as we pass it, the vehicle beneath me fighting to break out of my grip, the vibrations throwing me around, somewhat violently, though this only adds to the adrenaline in my veins. Another shriek of joy leaves me, my inhibitions about the group forgotten as I receive a few equally proud replies, their voices giving me the confidence to stand in the saddle, enjoying the new position as I keep in line with the boys, Paul and Marko joining me as I pass them. Whooping, we continue on like that until we reach the end of the sand, returning to our seats as we enter the labyrinth-like underside of what I assume to be a decrepit pier.

Biting my lip, I focus on navigating the dark, misty space whilst still enjoying the thrill that accompanies it,  keeping what I believe are David's tail lights in view as much as possible, squinting a little as the wind stings my eyes. As always, my motorbike does not disappoint me, managing to take the twists and turns well enough, even if it is with a little complaint, prompting a brief shout of "Nice one!"  from somewhere to my left, a grin splitting my face at the compliment, even if it isn't aimed at me.

Eventually, the pier runs out, the boys leading me straight into a small strip of forest, their bikes popping off of a ridge ahead with ease, mine struggling slightly until I up the speed once more, cheering as I clear the ground by some metres. The impact nearly winds me; but I battle through it, concentrating on trying not to crash instead, following the roaring of the other's engines as they navigate the dark area, my headlights doing little to help. In seconds, we have cleared the forest and are thundering towards what I know to be Hudson's Bluff, the lighthouse beam just visible over the lip of the cliff. As it comes into view, the vampires slow down, braking at the very edge with abrupt skids, laughing when I manage to do the same without tossing myself over and into the black sea.

"We've arrived." David announces, his face half-cast in white light from the lighthouse, his features sharper and more defined than usual, his blonde hair dishevelled from the ride.

Cutting the engines, we wheel our bikes into the underbrush before returning to the cliff, the howling wind now registering on my skin as goosebumps start to form on my chilled flesh. Shivering, I pull my jacket tighter around me as I follow the others onto a treacherous path leading down the side of the cliff, the rock slippery and insecure underfoot, my boots slipping a little from my weight. As we emerge into what is their home, a low whistle escapes my lips at the sight, the now-lit braziers around the edge giving the rundown room a sinister appearance.

"Is this what happened to that old hotel? I did always wonder." I comment, taking in the messy yet quaint interior with some awe, the fountain in the centre drawing my attention first.

"It is. The world forgot it, so now it's ours." David replies, sounding somewhat surprised at my knowledge, the vampire joining me as I go to the structure in the middle. I trail a finger over the stonework, giving him an appreciative look as I do so.

"Fair enough, I'd do the same."

A pleased smile crosses his face briefly,  before he turns to the others, barking out a few orders at them.

"Paul, get us some joints, Marko, find some food somewhere, and some new clothes for (Y/n) to wear. Dwayne, do we have any alcohol? Hard alcohol, that is."

"I think so." The tall, dark haired vampire replies, quickly disappearing with the others to get what is needed. Meanwhile, David goes to a table in the corner, the surface littered with trinkets, most likely the possessions of their victims, rooting around for something. Upon finding it, he returns to me, revealing a pack of painkillers to me with a joking flourish, handing them to me with a small wink, which my body inadvertently reacts to. I smile gratefully at him, popping a couple out of their blister packaging and throwing them into my mouth, swallowing them down dry, as I'm used to doing when in bad situations.

"We've got alcohol!" Dwayne announces, a grin on his face as he holds up four bottles of whiskey, triumphantly, the amber liquid sloshing around in the glasscontainers. Coming over, he hands one to me, allowing me to open it and take a deep drink before showing me the potency of the liquid. As the fiery drink pours down my throat, a groan of satisfaction escapes me, the sound drawing smirks onto the vampires' faces.

A loud crash snaps our attention to the corner of the from, where Paul is currently juggling a stereo and five joints of what is probably the strongest cannabis he can find, the former item having fallen to the floor when he tripped over a stone on the floor. In seconds, he is back on his feet, approaching us and offering us all a joint, which we all accept, even if mine is with a little hesitation, the potent odour of the weed already strong in my nostrils. Lifting it to my lips, I take a drag, holding my breath for a few seconds, ignoring the slight burn in my lungs, before releasing it again in a cloud of heady smoke, following it up with another swig of whiskey.

"Easy there, (Y/n), you'll be off the walls in no time at that rate!" Marko calls from the other end of the room, holding what looks to be a deep box of sweets and chocolates, it being too late to get takeaway at this hour.

"Hey, I'm no lightweight!" I protest, though the buzz has, in fact, nearly set in already.

"We'll see." David murmurs to me, going to a wheelchair, where he sits and puts his leg over the side, giving off an indisputable air of confidence and dominance, smoking and drinking along with the rest of us.

The next few hours are a blur of fun and excitement, my time with the boys really helping me to forget what happened earlier in the night, my mind completely fogged over by the alcohol and drugs and sugar, the supply seemingly endless as we drink and smoke and eat the night away, none of them making an effort to stay sober, except David, who keeps an eye on all of us. I change into some different clothes as soon as possible, trying not to think about their origin as I do so, just happy to wear soemthing comfortable. At some point, the five of us dance together, at which time David finally leaves the wheelchair and moves with us, the older vampire spinning me around the room as easily as a professional might, his face completely lit up the entire time. As we finish, he throws me to Paul, who is waiting to catch me with open arms, all of us laughing uncontrollably when the two of us crash to the floor, the pain unnoticed by either of us.

As the alcohol starts to run out, we become slightly less active, our frantic movements and activities stopping as we go to rest, David in his chair, Dwayne, Paul, Marko and I lying on the edge of the fountain, basking in each other's company, though it is obvious that only two of us are still awake.

"Feel better now? Distracted enough?" David questions softly, voice hoarse from use, eyes finding mine with an odd amount of care in them.

"Much, thank you." I thank him, smiling at him as much as I can, though I am struggling to see him through the haze in my vision. The blonde vampire seems to return the gesture, his blue eyes focused entirely on me, clearly a lot more sober than the rest of us.

A yawn draws my attention to my fatigue, my energy dwindling as I fight to keep my eyelids open, rolling myself off of the stone ledge. Staggering, I try to stand, only to fall onto my ass when the blood rushes to my head, the room spinning slightly until I feel a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

"Easy, you won't be able to go far like this." David's soft voice enters my ears, his concern palpable even in my inebriated state.

"I need to get home, my sister will worry..." My voice trails off as I try to push myself up again, falling into David's chest, awkwardly.

"You're in no fit state to drive, (Y/n)." The blonde vampire points out, "I'll take you."

"No...you'll never get back in time to avoid the sun..." I try to argue, a faint feeling of surprise rising in me at my own concern.

"I'll be fine." David reassures me, scooping me into his arms with ease, cradling my heated body against his frigid chest, the fabric of his jacket providing a comfortable headrest for me when I finally give in to my instincts. Looping my arms around his neck, I play around with the hair at the base of his head, relishing the feeling of the soft strands under my skin.

Carrying me outside, David swiftly finds my motorbike, somehow managing to get me onto it safely, my arms quickly finding themselves around his waist when he takes his place in front of me. In moments, he's figured out how to work the Triumph, speeding off along the road in the direction of my house at the highest it will go, making sure I'm not drifting off behind him as I try to focus on the pleasant smell of his jacket: motor oil, cologne, dust and blood.

Thankfully, we arrive home very quickly. David helps me up into my room, amused to find the front door unlocked when he tries it for the first time, mumbling something about security in the Murder Capital of the World. Removing my jacket and boots, the vampire manages to get me into bed, checking the wound on my shoulder quickly before he tucks me in. All the time, I am confused as to what is going on, completely unused to this softer side of the usually ruthless vampire, but not entirely sober enough to register the sincerity in the acts.

When he finally has me settled into bed, he remains seated beside me for a few minutes, making sure I'm ok, though he is surprised when I suddenly ask him a question.

"You ever killed a kid?" My voice is quiet, but I know he'll hear it.

"No, and I don't intend to." He confirms, unconsciously lifting a hand to brush hair out of my face, his icy touch making me shiver slightly as butterflies start in my stomach, the hypnotic traces lulling me to sleep. In minutes, I've fallen into a deep sleep, trusting David to refrain from trying to kill me in my most vulnerable time.

It is then that I realise something; I've learnt to trust them.

I've learnt to trust the Lost Boys, and something about that seems pretty ironic.

[one-boring-person]

Can I Help You?

Paul (The Lost Boys) x Gay!male reader

Warnings: very vague mentions of violence, mentions of homophobia

Context: After being kicked out o his home by his father, (Y/n) finds himself at the Boardwalk, where a certain vampire offers him some comfort.

A/N: I've had this rattling around in my head for days, so I thought I'd write it out. I'm sorry if it isnt that great, I'm new to writing this sort of a character and I was a little sketchy on how Paul would react in this situation.

My feet ache from use as I trail onto the Boardwalk after a couple of hours of aimless wandering, my mind numbed after being encompassed by grief for so long, dried tears streaking my cheeks. No one gives me a second glance, not a care in the world given to the eighteen year old boy limping around the streets with a tattered rucksack strapped to his back, his jacket stained by the beer his father threw at him when he was kicked out. No, not a care in the world.

I tighten my fingers around the strap of my bag, trying to adjust the weight a little more evenly across my back, my shoulders protesting painfully as I try to mingle with the crowd, ignoring the bustling people around me with the intention of finding a place to sit for a while and think up a plan as to what the hell I'm supposed to do. In my ears, the cacophony of voices and tinny music is loud and harsh, especially after the shouting matches I  took part in, not too long ago, a wince escaping me as a particularly rowdy surfer yells out to his friends from behind me. Starting, I manage to bump into someone behind me, who instinctively pushes me back with an angry curse, causing me to blurt out a rushed apology before I dart away from them, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Already, I can feel the tears resurfacing, their heated droplets threatening to spill out over my cheeks as I do my best to force them down again, a choking sensation rising in my throat. Stopping in my tracks, I frantically look around, disorientated with all the people pushing and shoving past me, the sounds all blurring into one as my vision does the same, panic and fear rising within me as I try to calm myself down, breathing heavily. Instinctually, I manage to work my way out of the crowd, my hands grasping at the low wall that separates the beach from the Boardwalk, my head tucked to my chest as I try my best to calm my erratic breathing  and pounding heartbeat, focusing on the sensation of each gasp of air flowing in and out of my lungs.

Eventually, I find myself sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall behind me, my head thrown back to maximise the passage of air into my body, my rucksack cradled on my lap, the straps wrapped tightly around my fingers - a nervous habit I've never managed to shake. Sweat coats my forehead, my hair sticking to my skin uncomfortably even as I lift a hand to brush it away, more strands falling into place to replace the ones I move. Thankfully, my senses have returned to normal, though my resolve has once again broken, the tears of anger, betrayal and grief dripping steadily down my damp cheeks, leaving small spots on my denim jacket as they fall off my jaw, making me look as though I were in my own little raincloud of misery. For a while I stay sat there, drowning myself in my sorrows, wishing I had a bottle of hard alcohol to help me forget, even if the solution is only temporary, my mind aching and longing for relief.

I barely notice when someone sits next to me, only really looking up when they clear their throat, finding myself face to face with a familiar, handsome blonde, with a mess of hair on his head and warm blue eyes taking in my appearance, his lanky frame folding up neatly, yet somehow languidly at the same time, beside mine. On any over day, I would've spent hours just staring at someone as good looking as he is.

"C-can I h-help you?" I force out, my voice cracking with barely concealed emotion.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" The blonde responds, smirking gently at me, even though I don't return the gesture.

"If you want to, I guess." I say, frowning a bit in confusion, my arms tightening around my rucksack out of habit.

"Well then, can I help you?" He pushes, his smirk becoming an encouraging smile instead, "What happened?"

"Why do you care? No one else does." I sigh, bitterly, a little suspicious of his behaviour.

"Beacuse I hate seeing sweet people like you in pain." He replies, eyes softening when he notices the blush creeping onto my cheeks from the compliment.

"How do you know I'm sweet? I could be a monster." I point out, looking over at him.

Surprisingly, he chuckles at this, the sound sparking an odd feeling in my stomach, as if someone housed a hundred butterflies inside me.

"Trust me, you're no monster." He reassures me, his expression taking on a knowing look as I give him an unsure one, "And as for being sweet, I've seen you around here before, with your boyfriend, and there are very few people who I would consider sweeter. Speaking of which where is he?"

At the reminder, I look down, my heart wrenching painfully as I recall my last conversation with him.

"...you're worthless, (Y/n), so I'm ending it. Don't come near me ever again, unless you want me to show you how pathetic you really are."

He'd slammed the door on me then, but not after throwing our anniversary gift at me from the threshold, the little bracelet I bought him clattering against the hard ground at my feet, my heart tearing itself to pieces.

"Hey, what's wrong? What did I do?" My newfound companion breaks me from my thoughts, his voice laced with panic and concern, a hand placed hesitantly against my arm as he leans forwards to look me in the eye, his other hand coming around to cup my face. I blink away the tears before replying.

"You...you didn't do anything..." I manage to grit out between sobs, collecting myself enough to give him an answer, "He broke up with me, and then my dad threw me out. I've got nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I'm alone."

At my confession, his blue eyes cloud with shock and horror, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tries to respond.

"Why'd your dad throw you out?" He asks me quietly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into my skin.

"Because I'm gay." I admit, looking down until he tilts my head back up to him, a determined look in his eyes.

"That doesn't make you a bad person. You are who you are, and it's his fault for not being able to see that. As for your ex, he'll soon realise he's missing out on a lifetime of greatness with you, and by then, it'll be too late for him to make amends. And if you need a place to stay and a friend to get you through it all, well, I'm here aren't I?"

Shock and surprise fill me at his offer, my mind already reeling at his show of kindness, my heart aching to go with him.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose..."

"Of course! There's plenty of space back home for one more tenant, though you'll have to deal with my friends and the fact that "home" is not necessarily the sort of thing you'd expect..." He confirms, sitting back on his heels as he waits for a reply, smiling at me.

"Well, if you're sure it's ok, then I'd love to come with you." I agree somewhat hesitantly, a little nervous after having only just meeting him.

"Of course. There is one condition, though."

"What is it?" I ask, hoping I'll be able to abide by this, and it won't be too costly.

"I'll need to take your name."

"My na...? Oh, yeah, of course. I'm (Y/n)." I respond, relief flooding my voice as I take his outstretched hand, blushing when he lifts it to his face and kisses my knuckles, shooting me a mischievous grin.

"Paul. It's nice to finally meet you." He says to me, helping me to my feet with a gentle pull, "You ever ridden a motorcycle before?"

"Err, I can't say I have, no."

"Well, there's a first time for everything. You just have to hold on. Tight." The blonde smirks, tugging me along to where a black and red motorcycle is leaning against the railing, a few tyre tracks around it showing where there were other bikes around it.

"O-k." I reply slowly, gingerly climbing up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist with some trepidation.

"We'll be home before you know it." And with that, the tall blonde lets out an ecstatic shriek as he kicks the engine into gear, the motorcycle swiftly jumping into motion. Despite my terror, a cautious grin creeps onto my face as we hurtle off onto the road and into a better future.

[lover-of-skellies]

Introducing: Valence Bandersnatch. Or Val, if you'd prefer that

He's a British boy (complete with the accent), he lives in Nep's forest by himself, and he's a murderer, getting random people to go back to his little cottage for tea and crumpets or whatever before killing them. From there, he has to dump the bodies in Nep's lake, since he's indebted to Nep (the family of lake dwellers are allowing him to live on their land, so he has to repay them somehow to keep the peace)

He's a flirt with a weird set of morals. Like,, he'll flirt with a person and do sinful things with them if he's in a good mood, but forcing yourself on someone who doesn't want it though? That's a big no no, and if he finds out that someone's done that to someone else before, he will literally kill them on the spot. He’s also got this weird ability that involves changing his appearance, so he can make himself look like anyone he wants. The only thing he can't do from there is mimic their voice. As far as a job goes, he's a hunter and an herbalist, and he sometimes even lends his ability to enchant things to people as well, though that's more expensive for them

Because I was bored and had some free time, I went and wrote a thing to kinda introduce him a little :P it's kinda long though, hence why there's a cut here. Just be warned though,, there's violence, one scene gets a little suggestive (nothing more than kissing happens though, soooo??), and I guess there's some drugging? Some weird aphrodisiac-like substance and a poison, used separately on different things

You'd been minding your own business, absentmindedly swishing your bare feet back and forth in the water as you laid on your back on the wooden dock, looking up at the canopy of trees that seemed to loom over you. The air was a pleasant temperature, not too warm, not too cold, as it drifted through the leaves, occasionally blowing an individual leaf loose and causing it to come fluttering down to the ground. As you listened to the sound of the leaves being caught by the gentle breeze, you let out a soft sigh. You'd been so stressed lately with life; between work and family, you'd felt as though you were dangerously close to snapping and committing murder. Not that you actually would, though.

You'd been so stressed lately with life that when you arrived here and settled down on the dock, you didn't register the pair of solid white sockets that watched your every move, calculating when to strike. 

A low growl in some nearby brush caught your attention and you immediately shifted your gaze to them, your brows furrowing; what the hell?... It sounded like it came from some sort of large predator, but the biggest predators that resided in this forest were the simple bobcats. Not even bears called this place their home. Sitting up, you pulled your feet out of the water and fumbled with your shoes and socks, scrambling to slip them on as the growling began to grow nearer and nearer. As soon as you'd successfully put your socks and shoes back on, you stood, narrowing your eyes slightly as you strained to see the shape that was huddled in the brush better. From where you currently stood, all you could see was black and white. Though... If you didn't know any better, you'd say it looked humanoid. How strange.

You took a small step toward the creature, and then a second, and then a third, but it remained almost perfectly still. Another growl made you freeze in place, though this was different from what you'd heard before. This growling sounded more like the sound your stomach would make whenever it called out for food. A pair of solid white sockets, entirely focused on you, narrowed slightly in what could've been considered joy, and you'd somehow edged close enough to be able to watch as a wide grin stretched across the creatures face, displaying a row of serrated, sharp teeth. And then the creature rose to his feet, tilting his head as he stared at you.

It was a skeleton, clad in a pair of baggy basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. His shirt, however... you frowned, your eyes locking on the vivid red that stained it. Right over where his sternum would be, there was a red blotch that resembled a hand print, and you felt your blood run cold. The skeleton watched your expression twist from confusion to fear, and he let out a raspy chuckle, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He then bared his teeth, still smiling widely as he asked, "Hey there, pal. You up for a game of tag?" You were lost for words, shaking your head as you stepped off the dock onto the earth, your eyes wide with fear. His body warped through the space between the two of you and he roughly grabbed your arm, digging his claws into your skin. You yelped as they broke the skin, your eyes watering up as he proceeded to lift your arm. He locked gazes with you as a deep teal tongue slipped past his maw, trailing up your arm and licking up a droplet of blood. Feeling yourself begin to tremble, you whimpered, your voice much weaker than normal, "P-Please... stop..." He licked a bit more of your blood up, his sockets hooded as he leaned even closer, his hot breath fanning over your face as he purred, "I'm it, ok? I'm gonna let you go and give you a ten second head start before I come after you. If I catch you, it's game over. Now," he released your arm, excitement flickering in his sockets, "run, human. Run as fast as you can." 

Feeling your heart jump up into your throat, you turned and began to run, hearing the skeleton burst into laughter as he watched you. In your frenzy, you abandoned the established path, running through the brush in a random direction and crying out as you felt thorns scratch at your exposed skin. Whatever it took to get away from that monster, you'd do it without regret.

Still running as fast as your legs would allow, you glanced back over your shoulder, not noticing rays of sunlight momentarily pass over something metallic. You put your foot down, hearing a click, and then you screamed, collapsing in pain as tears streamed down your face. You sobbed loudly, reaching down to pry at the "jaws" of the trap that'd clamped down on your leg just above your ankle, ignoring how the metal teeth sliced the skin of your fingers. Just as you felt the trap loosen a hair bit, your grip on it slipped, and you screamed again as it latched down on your leg, once more at full force. You let out a choked sob as you heard the brush begin the move nearby, a cry for help ripping from your lungs. This was it. This was how you'd die. The trap very clearly wasn't going to budge, and with even the smallest of movements, a searing pain ran up your leg, causing you to cry out in agony yet again. You curled in on yourself, trying to tune out the throbbing from your leg, and in doing so, you failed to see a second skeleton step out of the brush nearby. Upon seeing you on the ground, your entire body shaking as you sobbed loudly, he froze, letting out a long, low whistle, as if impressed on some level, "Oh dear."

Hearing a new voice, you bolted up from your current position, forcing yourself to stand as you faced him, whining loudly, "Please, help me. I need help, I don't wanna die." The new skeleton frowned, setting down the basket he was carrying and making his way over to you, "It's gonna be alright, I promise. I'm gonna lean down to open the trap, and I need you to hold onto me. Do you think you could do that for me, human?" You nodded, reaching out to the stranger and tightly grasping his shoulders as he squatted beside you, curling his phalanges around the jaws of the trap, and with what looked like no effort at all, opened it, freeing your leg. As he rose to his feet again, his grip was gentle yet firm as he wrapped an arm around you, tugging you flush against his side and sighing, "Here, I'll carry you. You're pretty badly hurt and I wouldn't wanna see you make the injury any worse." Despite not knowing this man, you nodded and gave your consent, wrapping your arms around his neck vertebrae as he lifted you, one arm supporting your back while the other was tucked under your knees. He then began to walk, one of his sockets going dark as the other flared up with cyan tinted magic, encasing his discarded basket and making the item begin to float. As he carried you, you lightly rested your head against his shoulder, looking up to admire the color of his magic. He kept his attention forward, pausing to glance back over his shoulder as a twig snapped, worry briefly crossing over his expression. He then stole a quick glance down at you, offering you a small smile, "Human, I need you to close your eyes, please." 

You wanted to ask why, but with the way your throat burned from your screaming and sobbing, you decided that questions could wait. You closed your eyes, and then you winced, feeling your stomach turn. Your head spun and for a brief moment, you felt as though static teased at your skin. Although you felt the skeleton shift you in his arms, you kept your eyes shut, waiting for the ok to open them again. Glancing around his small living room, the skeleton watched as his magic lowered his basket to rest on the coffee table and then faded from sight, breathing in deeply as he very delicately lowered you onto the sofa, his voice a mumble, "Alright... you can open your eyes now, friend." 

You slowly cracked open your eyes, your heart thudding harder at how close your companion now was to you, offering you a small smile again, "I apologize for that... I needed to use a shortcut to get here faster, where you'd be safe. The only problem is that the transition wouldn't have been pleasant for you, had you kept your eyes open." You nodded slowly, swallowing a lump in your throat as you tore your gaze from him and began to look around, your voice cracking, "W-Where are we?... What's a shortcut?" You looked back to him before continuing, "Who are you? Was that your trap I got caught in? What were you-" He pressed a single phalange over your lips to silence you, his expression softening, "This is my cottage, and a shortcut... well, let's see... it's like teleportation, essentially. To answer your other questions, my name is Valence Bandersnatch, but you're free to call me Val, if you'd like. And no, that wasn't my trap. Believe me, I wouldn't put a trap in such a place, if I had any. While I understand that you likely have many more questions for me, you need to take it easy now. I'm gonna heal up those injuries of yours, and then we can have some tea while we wait for that deranged maniac to pass by. He won't find you here, I promise. All you need to do is keep your voice down."

You nodded in understanding, watching Valence curiously as he lowered himself to his knees, gently moving your injured leg and holding a hand over where the trap had caught you. One of his sockets flared up with magic again, and more similarly colored magic surrounded his hand. As your injury began to rapidly heal, your eyes widened in a mix of shock and awe, your voice barely a whisper, "Whoa... that's so cool..." His cheekbones became flushed, a faint blush beginning to stain them as he smiled sheepishly, releasing your leg as it finished healing, "Thank you... I'm very happy you think so, human." He climbed up onto the couch beside you, holding his hand over the scratches on your arm. Your gaze followed his motions and you continued to watch in awe as the scratch healed before your eyes, just as they'd done before. 

His magic faded away and his second socket returned to normal, both irises present once more. Your gaze met his and it was silent for a moment, his multicolored, swirled eye lights captivating you. His faint blush darkened slightly and he cleared his throat, glancing away from you and sheepishly scratching the back of his skull, "I uh... how about I get us some cake and tea? The cake is fresh, just made this morning, and I can whip up a kettle of tea in no time at all." A soft blush teased at your own cheeks as you smiled softly, "As long as it wouldn't be a problem or anything, I'd really like that." The skeleton returned your smile and shook his head as he stood up, "Of course, it's not a problem. Not in the slightest," he paused, tilting his head and playfully winking at you, "especially not for a human as lovely as yourself." 

Your blush darkened a small bit and you looked away from him, trying to tune out the way he chuckled at having been successful at flustering you. As he turned and exited the room, you let out a deep breath that you weren't even aware you'd been holding; sure, you'd only just met Valence, but he was such a gentleman to you. He was so gentle and considerate, and his magic was beautiful. He was also quite attractive now that you thought about it. His smile gave you butterflies and his eyes (eye sockets?) were mesmerizing, and there's no way you could forget that sexy British accent he had. You blinked. Wait, what was happening right now? Were you seriously developing a crush on him? He was a stranger, but he'd also saved your life, too. As thoughts raced in your head, you failed to notice as he appeared in the doorway, a small plate in hand that held a fork and a piece of cake. Seeing that you were lost in thought, he briefly paused to admire the look on your face. Excitement bubbled up in his very soul, and he grinned to himself; he'd saved you once, but before the day was over, he'd save you yet again. 

He quickly rearranged his expression, his smile smaller and more genuine in appearance as he approached the couch and cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he offered you the slice of cake, "Here's your cake. The tea is almost ready, and I can bring it to you once it's done." You accepted the cake and couldn't help but smile at him again, "Ok... thanks Val. I really appreciate you doing all this for me." The skeleton waved off your words, nearly beaming at you as he returned your smile, "Oh, don't mention it. Anything for such a darling human." Your cheeks flushed again and your smile turned shy as you sheepishly refocused your attention on the piece of cake. Val was quick to vanish from the room again and you grasped your fork, slicing off a small bit of the cake and popping it into your mouth. As it hit your tongue, your eyes widened in pleasant surprise and you practically moaned at the flavor. It was perhaps the best cake you'd ever had in your entire life.

So not only was Val your savior that happened to be attractive and sweet, but he was also a great baker too. Talk about a catch.

You'd eaten about half of the slice before you began to notice the way heat coarsed through your body. You repressed a tiny mewl as it reached your core, causing you to press your thighs together. He wouldn't have done something to cake… would he?

As Val crossed into the living room again with two cups of tea, your scent invaded his senses and he inhaled deeply, nearly purring in delight. There were no words to describe how amazing you smelled right now, but it left him wanting to just... eat you right up.

He settled on the couch beside you, leaning forward to set the cups of tea on the coffee table, his sudden movement making you jolt in surprise as you looked up at him. He cleared his throat, offering you an apologetic smile, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." You shook your head and sighed, offering him a slight smile in return, "N-No, it's alright, don't worry about it, Val." Noticing the way you tried to be very subtle with your squirming, he feigned concern, frowning, "Are you alright, human? You're all red, and you don't look so good." Shaking your head, you hummed, "Nah, I'm ok... just a little warm, that's all."

To your confusion, he swiped your piece of half eaten cake from you, setting the plate beside your cup of tea before gently capturing your jaw, making you unable to turn away from him. Lifting his free hand, he delicately rested it on your forehead, as if checking to see if you'd caught a fever. With him being in such close proximity, you fought the urge to kiss him. Sure, you just met him, but in your current state, kissing him felt like something that needed to be done. He hummed, sliding his hand from your forehead to your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he met your gaze. That was what destroyed your last bit of self restraint. Without a warning, you leaned closer, pressing your lips to his teeth and kissing him. As expected, he momentarily tensed in shock, but then to your utter delight, he began to kiss you back. It wasn't long before his teeth coaxed apart your lips, allowing his cyan tongue to pass through and greet yours. 

As the kiss grew more heated, you whined, fisting at his shirt and fumbling with the buttons on his vest. You'd managed to undo maybe half a dozen before he broke the kiss, letting you catch your breath. While you watched him, your eyes clouded with obvious lust, he reached out, lifting one of the cups of tea and offering it to you, his slightly hushed voice now holding a husky edge, "Drink, darling. It'll help you cool down." You whined, squirming in your seat as you caught the tone he spoke to you in, "B-But Val... please. I need you-" Grinning shamelessly at you, he chuckled, leaning closer to peck your lips, "And you can have me. Drink some of your tea first though." Though you would've liked for him to forget about the tea and take you right there on his couch, you nodded slowly, almost pouting as you accepted the drink. 

Raising the cup to your lips, you took a sip, your eyebrows raising in surprise. Once again, you'd not expected the flavor of what he'd handed you. Humming in curiosity, you glanced up at Valence, "What kinda tea is this?... It's really good, Val." The skeleton watched you as you took another sip of your beverage, "Golden Flower." Blinking, a realization hit you and you raised an eyebrow, visibly interested, "Wait.... as in 'Golden Flower Tea'? The tea that Asgore supposedly loves?" He hummed in confirmation, "Exactly so. I'll say, I'm a little surprised you know about that old goat and his tea preferences." You smiled bashfully, shrugging and taking another sip, "Well... yeah. When the monsters came to the surface, I did my research. I wanted to learn what I could, y'know?" 

He nodded in understanding and offered you a playful grin, "So you're a bit of a nerd then, it seems." You rolled your eyes, lips still curled into a smile as you flicked your tongue at him, "Yeah, maybe I am. Is there a problem with that, mister?" You made sure to make it clear you were only teasing, and in response, Valence laughed softly, "No, no. Of course not. For a nerd, you're actually really cute." Your cheeks immediately gained a bright blush and you squirmed in your seat, smiling sheepishly again. He watched you quietly for a moment, allowing you to continue enjoying your drink before he spoke again, still smiling slightly, "If you read about Asgore and his love of Golden Flower Tea, I wonder... did you happen to read anything about what the tea is made from?" You hummed, tilting your head and nodding, "Mhm. Isn't it made from the seeds and stems of Golden Flowers?" The skeleton nodded, arching a brow bone as his grin suddenly became mischievous, "And did you learn about what'd happen if the petals were used, too?" You paused, furrowing your brows, "Doesn't it become poisonous?..."

Something flickered in his sockets and he purred in satisfaction, "Right on, Cutie." You opened your mouth to question him but froze, pressing a hand over your mouth as you began to cough violently. You reached out, intending to place your cup on the coffee table, but both of your arms went limp, causing you to drop your cup and spill what was left of the tea on the floor. Unable to force your body to cooperate, you slouched to the slide, now leaning against Val. He sighed, feigning a look of concern again as he tsked, reaching into the breast pocket on his vest and withdrawing a handkerchief, lightly dabbing it along your mouth as he hummed, "My my, look at you... you're making quite a mess of yourself, you know." As he pulled the handkerchief away from your mouth, you glanced down, your eyes widening in fear and beginning to water up as you took notice of the red that now stained it. Unable to lift your head to even look at Valence properly, you whimpered, a tear rolling down your cheek, "W-Why, Val?... Why would you do this to me?..."

The skeleton hummed, merely smiling at you, "Because I'm a little overdue on paying my debt to the lovely family of lake dwellers that have allowed me to live on their land." Your voice cracked, and you tried your best to force back the impending need to cough again, "Y... You're using me to pay off a debt?" In a much too cheerful tone, the skeleton monster gave you confirmation, "Pretty much, yeah. Don't take it personally though, ok? I like you. If I didn't, I would've killed you sooner, and I wouldn't have been so nice about it." 

Your eyelids began to feel heavy and you croaked, "How does killing me pay off that debt?" He merely smiled, lightly cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb, "They're a bunch of human eaters." Your mind replayed the look that the first skeleton you encountered had worn and a chill ran through you, "But the tea... It'll poison them too." He chuckled, lowering his voice to a murmur, "No it won't, silly. It doesn't affect monsters the way it does humans. Guess you didn't get the memo, huh?" You felt yourself break, letting out faint sobs as you tried to look away from him. Reading your expression, he sighed, "Come here, darling. Let me ease your suffering a bit." You wanted to shove him away and scream, tell him to get lost, but as the world began to fade away before you, the last thing you felt was his teeth against your lips