#i was running out of ideas towards the end can u tell??? brain fog is so fun :)

[sentientsky]

a very unserious collection of crack predictions for season 3, variously inspired by jokes from fellow users and also my own terrible little hamster brain

(disclaimer: i made this at like. 3 am. and tbh my brain is all over the place, so i don’t know which ideas i came up with myself and which are posts i’ve just internalized. if i’ve used an idea of yours here, please tell me so i can properly credit you <3)

template below the cut!

[nbrook29]

Ahhh, I love your writing!

67- “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

Only if you want, thks :)

Hello anon :) Thank you, you're very sweet 😚

Here it goes, I hope it doesn't suck, my writing vibes have been off 😢:

67. It's you, it's always been you.

* * *

“Man, this thing sucks. I was promised hot chicks from the dance school and I can’t see even one, what the fuck.”

Robbe turns his eyes to Moyo, shooting him a half-hearted apologetic smile, his thoughts far away from his friends bickering next to him as they cross the gate to the carnival. It’s getting late, the sky had turned dark before they even left their houses and the place greets them with an onslaught of neons from every corner, cheesy song playing in the background, and Robbe can’t help but hear a particular deep voice commenting on the music being shit in his head.

He sighs, trying to chase the thought away and not go there again, plastering a fake-cheeriness on his face as he suggests they all get a beer and find a table somewhere. It takes 15 minutes of standing in a line to finally get the drinks and in the end, they have to resort to sitting on the grass because the place is packed. It looks like every single kid from their school is here tonight along with half of the city, to be exact, and Robbe snorts to himself when he thinks back to the broers’ plans this morning, talking about finally making a move on the dance girls. Good luck trying to find them.

They’re in the middle of arguing about which attraction they should go check out first when Robbe’s phone pings with a message.

Noor: ROBBE

Noor: !!!!!!!!!!!!

Robbe: Wha???

Noor: LILY HAS BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME THE WHOLE EVENING

Noor: AND WE KISSED

Robbe: Whoa you go girl! 💪🏻💜

Robbe: Told you she's into you 😎😎😎

Noor: 🙄 whatever

Noor: I'M SO HAPPY 💖💖💖

Robbe: Haha I can see that, you only use black hearts, she must be special 😜

Noor: 🖕🏻

Noor: She isssss ❤

Robbe: I'm so happy for you ❤

Noor: 🖤🖤🖤

Noor: Is your lover boy at the carnival? 😏

Robbe: I don't have a lover boy 🙄

Robbe: And no he's not

Noor: Aww 😕

Robbe: It doesn't matter anyway

Robbe: It's better this way

Noor: For fuck's sake Robbe I'mma spank you into submission one day if you don't stop with this bullshit

Robbe: Kinky

Noor: I'm serious 🤨

Noor: Please please please promise me if you see him tonight you'll talk to him???

Robbe: Can't you just let it go??

Noor: Hell will freeze over before I'll let this go

Noor: Consider yourself warned

Robbe: Why are you so pressed about this jesus

Noor: Because I want you to be as happy as me!

Robbe: What do you want me to do exactly? I can't make him like me Noor

Robbe: It's done okay?

Robbe: I got my answer I told u

Robbe: I'm serious let it go

Noor: Baby 🥺

Robbe: I'm gonna be okay

Robbe: Go now

Robbe: I'm Lily's getting jealous over your texting 😉

Noor: Ugh okay

Noor: Ttyl

Noor: I love you 🖤

Robbe: 🖤

Under the chat with Noor there’s another message that makes him feel a pang in his heart.

Sander: Are you okay?

He scrubs his face and starts working on that fake smile again when Aaron shouts, “Ferris Wheel! Please you guys, I’ve always wanted to go on a ride!”

Moyo and Jens make some protesting sounds, claiming it’s boring as fuck if you don’t go with somebody to make out with up there. Robbe’s about to join the conversation when he sees a flicker of white hair somewhere in the crowd, and his heart starts beating faster despite him trying to stay indifferent, but when he blinks, it’s gone. He curses under his breath for being such a lovesick fool.

“Robbe? Go with me? Please?”

Robbe widens his eyes at Aaron’s pleading face, and shakes his head with an uncomfortable laughter. “No way, dude, I’m not a fan of this kind of stuff.”

“It’s not even that high! And it’s super safe, look!” Aaron waves vaguely at the Ferris Wheel, his eyes getting bigger and bigger with each “please��.

“Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I wanna try it out before I take Amber there, duuh!”

Robbe glances at the wheel with reluctance in his eyes, weighing his options before finally huffing a long-suffering “okay” at Aaron because he’s a pushover. It sucks, but he made his peace with that.

They leave Moyo and Jens chilling on the grass and go stand in the surprisingly short line to the wheel, Aaron’s practically bouncing on his feet when he’s telling Robbe about his plans to take Amber to the carnival tomorrow. Robbe indulges him and holds back any comments that he has at the tip of his tongue about the girl as they slowly move towards the front of the line, finally reaching the fence and paying for the admission.

Once they’re seated and reality hits in, Robbe can feel a weird feeling slowly encompassing his body and he realizes this is a bad idea. He hates highs. What the fuck is he doing on a Ferris Wheel?!

It seems like a similar thought is crossing Aaron’s mind because the boy is ghost white as he suddenly stands up and starts getting out of the cart.

“Fuck, man, I don’t think I can do this, it’s fucking scary, I’m sorry!”

And then he leaves, leaving Robbe gapping after him in shock. Before he can react and get out himself, the cart shakes with additional weight dropping on it, and when Robbe turns his head back to see what is going on, he’s met with an unsure smile, gracing the most beautiful face he’s ever seen.

“Do you mind if I take his spot?”

Robbe keeps staring as Sander pushes the railing down, making himself comfortable before looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah, um, sure,” he squeaks out, super aware of how close they’re sitting, his already racing heart now threatening to fall out of his chest. Sander shoots him a grateful smile and runs a hand through his hair and messes it up, almost making Robbe whimper with how good he looks.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He needs to pull himself together.

The wheel starts moving and for a second Robbe forgets all about who’s sitting next to him, gripping the railing tightly and taking deep breaths, at the same time trying to remain cool and unaffected.

“You didn’t answer my text.”

Sander’s words break the cloud of fear that is currently fogging Robbe’s brain and he peeks at him, noticing how he bites on his bottom lip, looking almost shy. His eyes carry some vulnerability in them that doesn’t fit the image of Sander Robbe has in his head - always cool and composed, witty, flirty, edgy artist who makes girls and boys swoon after him.

He swallows and tries to figure out an excuse. “I’m sorry, I read it, but I was super busy and I completely forgot.” He cringes as soon as the words are out when he sees a glimpse of hurt passing Sander’s features. Great, now he sounds like an asshole.

“Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Sander replies, pretending to be unaffected. “Do you, um, do you wanna hang out tomorrow maybe? To make up for last Thursday?” His voice sounds full of hope and Robbe hates himself for having to shoot him down again, but he needs to take care of his own heart first.

“Sander, I-, look, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

There it is. The smile slowly but surely slipping off Sander’s face and hurting Robbe in the process. But this is the right thing to do. He knows that.

They’re almost at the top when Sander speaks again. “Can you tell me why?” He asks softly.

Robbe fights with himself whether this is the right place to come clean, but he can’t let him think there’s something wrong with him.

So he takes a deep breath and squeezes out, “Because I like you more than just a friend and I can’t pretend I’m not.”

Before Sander can answer, he beats him up to it. “And I know now that you have Younes, I saw you guys, it’s okay, I understand, he’s great, I’m happy for you guys, really, I-”

The wheel comes to a sudden stop, making the cart shake ominously, and Robbe’s heart lodges itself in his throat as he realizes the horrible truth: they’re stuck. At the top. So so high up.

He’s gonna be sick.

He starts breathing quickly, verging on hyperventilating when he feels Sander’s hands on his cheeks, and he registers his soothing voice telling him to calm down and that it’s going to be okay.

“Are you scared of heights?”

Robbe nods shakily, blushing beet red at the situation, feeling embarrassed at his state. When he manages to open his eyes, he’s met with a set of green looking back at him, worried and compassionate.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Sander takes one deep exaggerated breath to encourage him to do the same, and Robbe tries his hardest to follow him. There are voices coming from the ground telling them they need to stay calm and that they’re gonna be down in no time, as the technicians are already working on solving the issue.

But Robbe doesn’t fully register them, too focused on how close Sander is sitting now, their thighs pressed together, how he can smell his aftershave and see his moles clearer than ever before.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to stop enjoying this because Sander has a boyfriend and this is wrong, but then Sander rests his forehead against his, shortcutting any thoughts whatsoever.

“I don’t know what you saw, but Younes is my best friend. We’re not together, Robbe.”

“But, you were all touchy and,” he swallows. “I saw you kissing. In the movies.”

A small frown appears on Sander’s forehead. “We’re comfortable with each other, sure, but there has never been any kissing. Younes is straight. And taken, by the way.”

And, okay, weird. Could he really misjudge the situation so badly? Sure, he didn’t see them kissing per se, but they were leaning towards each other? Sort of? He thinks?

Fuuuuuck.

“Oh wow, I think, um, I misinterpreted some stuff,” he admits, embarrassed, eyes downcast as he feels Sander nodding against his forehead with a tiny smile.

“Quite a lot of stuff, actually. Like, for example, that I like you like a friend.”

“That’s a lot of like in one sentence,” Robbe blurts off like an idiot, making Sander let out that adorable snort of his that pulls a quiet chuckle out of Robbe too.

“Well, there’s a lot of liking involved when it comes to my feelings for you,” he says, eyes shining with sincerity, and he glances the tip of his nose against Robbe’s, the gesture liquifying his insides.

“There’s a lot of liking involved when it comes to my feelings for you as well,” he whispers back, too shy for his own liking, but Sander just has that effect on him. It doesn’t matter though because suddenly the boy’s lips stretch in a beaming smile that’s so radiant it almost makes the night look brighter.

They’re staring at each other with similar expressions, sharing air as their foreheads remain glued together, and then Sander closes the distance between them, capturing Robbe’s lips in a soft kiss that makes his sigh, hands letting go of the railing and traveling on their own accord to Sander’s jaw. His head is spinning for a totally different reason now, and when he feels the tip of Sander’s tongue grazing his bottom lip he opens his mouth right away, going pliant under his touch.

He can’t quite believe what’s happening, how just half an hour ago he was feeling sorry for himself, thinking Sander is officially off limits, and now he can feel the boy’s secure hold on his waist and taste the sugary sweet cotton candy on his tongue.

“Hey, you’re breathing normally now,” Sander notes happily, his lips red and glistening as he breaks the kiss.

He looks even more gorgeous now and Robbe can’t help himself as he runs his thumb across his plump bottom lip and scores a tiny kiss there too, pulling a blush out of him.

“So, does that mean you will go out with me now?” Sander flutters his eyelashes at him, a pout on his lips as he puts his hands together in a “please” sign, and he looks so cute that Robbe can’t do more but nod, giggling when Sander hisses a satisfied yes! under his breath.

“Hey, no laughing, I’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw you,” Sander tsks at him, eyes narrowed in seriousness that would look legit if his smile was any smaller.

“You have?”

“Yeah. I was like, how the fuck am I supposed to convince the most beautiful boy on the planet to go on a date with me?”

Robbe bites his lip bashfully, aware of the heat spreading on his neck under Sander’s words.

“I was sure you didn’t like me like that, you know,” he reaches to entangle their fingers, patting himself on the back for winning with his nervousness.

Sander squeezes his hand. "And I thought you were into somebody else, made me so sad."

"What? Fuck no, it's you, it's always been you," he rushes to reassure him, blushing again at his eagerness, but it earns him another kiss, this one just when the cart lurches forward as the Wheel comes alive again.

It painfully reminds him of where they are, but before he can fully freak out Sander brings him closer to his chest, acting like a man on a mission and not stopping with his mindblowing kisses until their cart safely reaches the ground.

"We made it," he murmurs, placing the last lingering kiss against Robbe's lips and the boy thanks him for being his knight in a shining armor.

"Hey, Sander?"

"Yes?"

"Just promise me our date won't take place at the fair. I won't survive another ride."

[perhapsthanatos]

10:32 pm with yuta ♡

nct’s yuta x fem!reader (got inspired by a dream of mine & found the idea really cute)

alternate title: be the james dean to my audrey hepburn

genre: fluff. a pinch of angst. non idol au. badboy!yuta au.

word count: 1400~

playlist: chinatown by wild nothing, lover’s rock by tv girl & work this time by king gizzard and the lizard wizard.

warnings: featuring johnny (not a warning though). smoking cigarettes. cursing. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: hi i was supposed to post a vampire!haechan fic but i really wasnt happy w it in general :( the plot or overall idea of the fic was really good, but i just felt as if i didnt do it justice so here we are :( but ngl, i kind of like this concept more? maybe bc i can see it more vividly? idk, i feel like my writings r getting repetitive & its getting on my nerves lmaoo this is getting long im sorry do u guys even read this part anyway? i would also like to apologize abt the amount of projecting im doing lmao ive been having some rough days & i love my sister but hate being compared to her so often so this is a way for me to rant abt it ig? also so sorry its coming out a little later bc i woke up late today (& procrastinated for the rest of it so here i am posting really late at night) & decided to go to the convenience store to get ice cream (& a ton of other bad shit pls dont do this its rlly unhealthy) for breakfast bc i can :) any who, enjoy lovelies <3

“oh my, y/n! you’ve grown up so well! just like your sister!”

“oh! i’m sorry i’ve almost mistaken you for your sister! y/n is your name, correct?”

“y/n, darling, you are looking so dashing! you really do resemble your sister, don’t you?”

“ah, you must be y/n! i’ve heard all about you and your sister from your father!”

you swear that your reddening cheeks are threatening to fall off any moment now from all the fake smiling. the hundreds of superficial compliments, the insincere flattery and the need for these people to constantly compare you to your godforsaken sister makes you feel even weaker than you are. it gets harder and harder to keep up with a big persona that isn’t at all you. as lucky as you are to live such a lavish lifestyle, you can’t help but hate how your family has to be so perfect. you hate how you have never fit in with them, even if you are so good at faking it. you hate how you have always been stuck in your sister’s shadow, constantly haunted with the reminder that you yourself aren’t good enough. you hate how you now have to entertain the rich and brainless guests at your parent’s gala because she’s gone for some stupid prodigy competition and everyone is only talking about her in front of your face. so what if she’s better the better sister? you still have the right to earn respect, right?

you’re exhausted from all the small talk. your facade gets more brittle by the second under all the pressure. your body feels as if it's gonna give out due to your brain shutting down after all that interacting. you try to keep on going with the night as it unravels itself by being the perfectly poised poster child, trying to make your parents proud. but alive yet almost completely devoid, you decide enough was enough. what if you left right now? no one would notice, would they?

after pulling up your phone discreetly to send a few text messages, you pass through lots of people dressed in gold and finery in a way that wouldn’t have you noticed right away. keep your head down and don’t you dare make eye contact with anyone. nearing the end of the room, grabbing the first glass of whatever alcohol you see and downing it in one gulp, you start walking away as quickly as possible from the ballroom. “ignorant privileged fucks,” you angrily whisper to no one in particular, setting the now empty glass on whatever surface and begin to head to the main exit where no one could spot you running away.

“and what do you think you’re doing here, miss?”

a voice interrupts you, looking up you see that it is your father’s head butler; johnny. he is dressed in a simple black suit that makes him appear taller than he is. his long brown hair is slicked back and his bowtie seems brand new. you have known the man since he started working in your household less than ten years back. you were a reckless child, often trying to find ways to sneak out, finding a way to escape from this life and he sympathized with you. after all, he could barely imagine living your life, never catching a break for yourself and always pretending to be someone you weren’t. he often helped planning when you would sneak out into the night, scheduling things like what time you should leave and what time you should be back, more specifically a time when no one would notice. he would take care of your form of transportation and have your location on at all times, just to be extra safe. as much as he wants you to have fun and have a bit of freedom, he still worries that something might happen to you. because of all this, you two have grown to have a very strong bond. you could confidently say that he is most definitely a parental figure in your life since your parents (and even your sister) are often overseas for work.

“what do you think i’m doing? you think i wanna be in a room with those half-baked bipeds? fuck no!”

“i know, i was just joking. you looked like you were about to explode in there, i wish i could help.” he laughs, pulling out his phone preparing what you might need. “so what will it be for today? the driver? we just need to pay him to keep his mouth shut. a taxi? it’s cheaper than paying the driver, but you still need to pay… not like that’s a problem for you though. maybe an uber would be good enough—“

“actually, i got myself covered. thanks.”

his jaw slightly drops and his eyebrows furrow. he looks straight at you in shock. “what do you mean you got yourself covered?”

you look down at your feet, a nervous habit. “i got myself a ride, you don’t need to help me. i’ll be back as soon as dawn comes.”

he raises his eyebrow. “who’s your ride?”

“doesn’t matter,” you glance down at your phone seeing a notification and wave a goodbye, leaving rather suddenly. “i gotta go, i’ll text you when you need to open the gates!”

“y/n! wait! who’s your ride— and she’s gone.” johnny sighs, watching as you run towards the front gates, tossing your stiletto heels away on the grass while you’re at it. he heads back inside, silently hoping you’ll be fine.

knocking the window of the old black mustang parked outside behind the big bushes, the driver rolls down his window and sends the most charming smile.

yuta in his black beanie, long blonde hair, worn out doc martens, signature leather jacket and black skinny jeans. it almost makes you laugh on how he wears the same thing almost everyday but still manages to look so good.

he is most notable for having a big bad boy reputation and you knew that he was the breath of fresh air you needed in your life. a person who can understand having the pressure of having to be or to fulfill your persona. a person you can completely be yourself around. a person who is full of warmth no matter how cold he may seem on the outside.

“get in, princess.”

and that was all you needed. you tiredly walked to the other door and sat yourself in the car. rolling his window back up, he looks at you. you are wearing a simple yet stunning black dress along with silver jewelry adorned on your neck and wrists. your makeup is perfectly done but still struggles to hide the fog in your eyes. he has the sudden urge to clear them away. he softens at the sight of you. no one is perfect, but he finds you being perfect enough without ever having to dress up.

“where to?” he asks as gently as he could. he knows that you are most vulnerable during these moments and that it is hard to finally break down your walls after a day full of stress, so he doesn’t pry immediately. all he wants to do is to keep you here, safe and away from your burdens and for you to stay comfortable with him, even if it couldn't be for long. but is that too selfish of him to ask? he hates how you hate your life and it is taking every bone in his body to not run away with you. but who is he to tell you what to do or what to change anyway? all he can do for now is try to find a way to make you genuinely smile.

“take me anywhere,” you whisper to the latter. “i just want to be as far from myself and my life as possible. miles away or the nearest convenience store, just take the long way home before dawn.”

you look down at the cup holders, spotting an open cigarette box. you tug one out of the nineteen and light it with the lighter you kept in your pocket. you lean back and close your eyes. he only admires as you bring the cigarette to your lips, exhaling a cloud of smoke afterwards. letting the radio play quietly, he starts the car and begins to drive away from the mansion. he can’t help but wonder how you (an elegant daughter) and him (a bad boy) are millions of worlds apart, but more similar than you think.

© perhapsthanatos (efa)

[bowieandqueen11]

Remember When / Hargreeves Imagine

Request: Love ur writing btw!! I have a Great idea for a Diego fic! Can u do his siblings somehow finding tapes/videos from the mental asylum Diego was in and seeing how badly he was tortured and abused. Then he has a panic attack or something at the end and they comfort him. 

I-ugh anon omg - my heart <3

Warning, some strong language, and also some descriptions of abuse, so please don’t read if it will make you uncomfortable!

Comments and reblogs are so so so appreciated, as this took me honestly way to long XD! Thank you!!

‘Way to go. Real Team Zero back there.’

‘Diego, we’ve already been through this. Dad’s a stubborn prick, as he has been, all our sad lives, yada yada, we’re sorry, okay? We should have known he’d still be the same condescending asshole’, Klaus replies, waving his hands in the air as he climbs the stairs back up to Elliot’s apartment. Rubbing his left eye with his hello tattoo, he uses his right to try and fumble a blunt out of his pocket, clenching it between his teeth. As he feels Luther’s footsteps pound up the rest of the way and jog past him to the landing, he can’t quite seem to light it - his fingers are still trembling too hard from the pain of Ben stealing his body in the way he did.

Running up the stairs after him, Diego leaves behind the rest of his shell shocked siblings. Instead he focuses on tucking in the corners of his shirt back into his pants, trying to do anything to stop himself focusing on Reginald and the tears that still threaten to prick at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t even notice when he walks head first into Klaus, until he has put a hand out and gripped onto his shoulder to stop them both from tumbling back down the stairs like bowling balls and straight into Allison.

‘You, brother, are an idiot. And a fat lot of help’, he smirks, sadly, gently slapping Klaus on his cheek.

‘Rude’, Klaus shrugs, winding his way towards the kitchen and kicking off his shoes in the process, looking for some Vodka to steal.

Allison hops quickly out of the way of the incoming shoes, used to his antics by now, and instead comes to settle next to where Vanya has plodded herself down on the sofa. Fiddling with her oversized jumper, a far away look on her face, Allison places a comforting hand on her bicep and gives her a sorrowful smile.

‘What do we do now?’, Vanya murmurs out as Luther squirms uncomfortably on one of Elliott’s wooden chairs. He ignores the beeping of the machines behind his head, instead swallowing thickly.

‘We, uh... wait for Five, I guess.’

‘No no no, right now, the most important thing we can do to try and change the world, is save JFK.’

‘Ughh we’ve been through this a million times! That’s not how it works Diego!’, Klaus calls from the kitchen, only a cloud of smoke trailing out from behind the wall and filling the room with both a stagnant smell of weed, and a light fog that seems to dampen the small amount of sunlight filtering through the askew blinds, which Elliott had been taking photos through earlier this morning.

‘Look, I get that you’re on some big crusade to prove something to dad, but this is not helpful right now.’

‘We all need to stick together and stop this thing’, Allison chimes in, desperation in her voice.

Luther’s interrupted from his continuing thoughts by a small squeak out of Vanya, following her eyes from where they are trained to a spot on the rug.

‘Oh my god... is that blood? Is someone bleeding?’

‘Holy shit.’

He gets up then, following the trail, beckoning his sisters to stay behind him with his hands until he reaches the dentistry chair at the edge of the landing, grimacing slightly as he turns to swivel it towards him with a squeak. He feels Klaus bump into one side of him, and Diego hit onto his other elbow, a rusty kitchen knife raised and ready, and a look of almost determination on his face, as if he had just been waiting for something awful to happen, just another chain of bad events so he knew his life was back onto its normal tracks.

‘Oh noooo’, Klaus groans, cupping his hands over his mouth as Elliott’s body turns to face them, a knife planted firmly in his eye.

Turning away from the tortured body of his friend, Diego swallows thickly, dropping his knife to the floor and placing an arm over his stomach. None of his siblings really notice, all of them looking over the dead body aghast, wondering, pained that they were the ones who caused something like this. None of them noticed the shake in his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the bile back down his throat again. 

Klaus, however, did notice something. However, sadly for Diego, it was not the right thing - not the signs of shock, anxiety, or guilt that flashed over his brother’s face - the signs of PTSD he would have been the most adapt at noticing in the room. No, instead Klaus looked past poor Elliot’s head, towards a blinking static screen that kept flashing blue and black on a nearby desk, left abandoned underneath the shutter shots of the rest of them by Five.

‘Hello there, what might you be?’

Leaving the rest of them, he fumbled with the buttons on the old TV, trying to shake it out of his head how eerily familiar this seemed to dear old dad’s surveillance system. Hitting any button he can find in vain, he throws his blunt out of his mouth and flicks it across the room, slamming the control panel with the fist of his palm, until his pointer finger somehow managed to falter and hit play on the tape left inside.

Never before had Klaus noticed how much time is like water, that it can drip by in front of his eyes so slowly, or even freeze with each new frame. The past few minutes had passed by as if he had watched a thousand frames per second, too slow to be normal, so unusual. He turns to try and point to his siblings, but his jaw is still so slack and he finds he can’t move his fingers properly. Shock, that’s what they call it, shock, he thinks to himself, fighting to get his words out so they don’t trail out.

There is a sadness in his eyes, the glass green too glossy when he finally turns to his siblings and manages only to feebly point at the screen.

For the first time, since his mouth had been wired shut as a teenager, Klaus was at a loss of words.

This grabbed the attention of his siblings, who crowded over to join him and peer intently at the screen - all except foe Diego, who stayed hovering at the edge of the group.

The screen lights up again, showing an empty room, one without proper handles, only sheets of smooth metal as makeshift windows for staff to peer through. There’s no bed, no mattress on the cold floor, just emptiness, isolation, silence, for the man who sits in the centre of the floor in pure white. They recognise from the shaggy hair and the wild beard that it’s there brother almost immediately.

'You were in an Asylum? What for?’, Vanya asks.

‘For trying to save the President’, Diego manages to mutter, unable to look any of them in the eye. ‘For doing what needed to be done.’

He’s interrupted by himself, the small version of him on the tape muttering to himself, rocking back and forth. ‘I am not enough, I can’t do it, I’m not good enough. You’ll never be number one, never.’  

The door swings open then. In his intense silence, Diego somehow screamed with his whole body. The eyes wide with horror, the mouth rigid and open, his chalky face gaunt and immobile as the doctor approached him with the needle.  

‘Please! Not the needle!’, he begs and cries. ‘Please!’

Luther’s the first to turn round and look at his brother. The first to finally look, to finally see him, how defeated he looks, for the first time since they all landed in that alleyway.  It's the look that he gives Diego. Those pale blue eyes, probing into his soul, desperately wanting to see what's going on in there. That look, it just tore Diego apart, piece by piece, and although it wasn’t his fault, he found himself deeply unsettled, deeply angry at him, at all of them, so suddenly.

‘W-w-what? What are you looking at a-a-ss-’

An invisible hand clasps over his mouth and stops his words from escaping, an equally ghostly hypodermic of adrenaline piercing his heart, making it contort and expand until it feels just about ready to burst. His ribs heave uneasily, and Allison’s afraid he’s about to pass out, Klaus rushing forward, biting his lips. Diego only wants to run, but needs to freeze. All he can do, instead, is fall to his knees, and allow four pairs of hands to catch him before his face hits the floor.

A single tear slides down from his warm, butterscotch eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty tears flowed it's way down his cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of him for all this time but still he did not make a sound. His siblings made the noise for him, warm, comforting little nothings, telling him it was going to be okay, he didn’t have to go back, they were going to do it, save the world. Save themselves.

The hand appeared from nowhere and tightened on his wrist, white knuckled, strong, until Luther had pulled him against his chest, and the others had gently fallen to their knees too and placed their arms around his back as best as they could. Klaus was half leaning over Allison’s leg, and Vanya in turn was completely squished, face first, against his chest, but somehow they made it work.

There is the hug of gentle arms that still gives you the space to breathe, like the ones Grace used to give Diego after a mission. Shutting his eyes, he realises he isn’t used to this type, the kind of hug with strong arms that tells everything that your are - body, brain and soul - that they are with you. 

They stay like that for a while, the five - well, the six of them, as Ben places his arms around his siblings as well, even if they can’t feel him. The six of them, battered, afraid, neglected, and yet, not alone. They huddle there together, embracing each other and crying and just allowing themselves to be open, to be vulnerable with each other, to realise their dad wasn’t there and they didn’t have to go through this alone anymore. 

Tears were wiped and sobbing laughs were shared, and even Five, when he blipped back into the room, saw the set of his siblings hugging on the floor and felt a pang of loneliness and love for his crazy family ring out in his heart that he joined them, if only for a second.

From then they weren’t numbers anymore. They weren’t even siblings. They were more, Diego said with a smile. They were Team Zero.

[mymymadeline]

• Someone New 

pairing: Hallmark Christmas Movie Au! Poe Dameron x Reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: He’s instantly beautiful in an almost familiar way, like you could call his features home.

warnings: none! :)

notes: look... isn’t this what we all want? big shoutouts to my sun and stars Cat for making this fic baby with me, couldnt have done it without you love. Enjoy!

Adore You series: 01, 02, 03, 04, ... - AO3

“Well I don’t care how it gets done, it just needs to get done! As long as it’s legal, I'm fine with it, and if it’s illegal, well I'm sure we can find a way to work around that.” 

 If you hadn’t already kicked off your heels behind your desk twenty minutes ago, you’re sure your feet would be aching from the frantic pacing that’s now ruining your office carpet. The curtains are open to the bustling concrete metropolis outside, the massive height of the building giving you all the privacy you need. Uncertain sunshine slips from massive clouds and tentative rays rest on your carpet. 

“Enjoying your final day at work, I see.” Kylo smiles mockingly at you from the doorway of your office. Your frantic strides come to an irritated halt and you squeeze the phone next to your ear a little tighter.

“Just text me when it’s done. Don’t even call, I don’t care.” Hanging up before they can answer with a firm, unsatisfying press of your finger, you level your gaze with Kylo’s irritatingly smug face.

“What could you possibly want right now, Kylo?” You have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes. Letting him onto your annoyance would only spur him on and you really don’t need that right now.

He crosses his arms and leans on the doorframe, carefully crafting the picture of power. “It just seems to me like leaving town is causing you so much stress. It might just be easier to stay.” He shrugs. 

“Ha. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You raise your brow at him, putting as much taunting venom in your voice, hopefully without devolving into an actual argument. “Me giving up my first real vacation in years to stay and do more busywork, while you gallivant around with some… hmm more models, will it be this year?” 

Kylo scoffs, obviously enjoying this sparring much more than you. But a rare softness takes over his tone. “You know, you could always come with me.”

This catches you off guard. You haven’t seen this kind of tone from him in a long time. Not since before everything went down in burning wreckage between you two. 

You level your gaze with his meaningfully, keeping your voice smooth but unemotional. 

 “I think that would be a bad idea.”

Any sincerity in Kylo’s features goes as quickly as it came, he shrugs it off like it disturbed him to even know it still exists within him. His petulant yet teasing smugness takes over as natural as the clouds over the sun. 

“Yeah, well, don’t say I didn’t try. Anyway, hardly a vacation, spending a month in that pathetic, run-down rat-hole. I forgot, did they get wifi there yet?” 

Moving away from Kylo, you pace back over to your desk, turning your phone meditatively between your hands. “You act like you didn’t grow up there too.” 

Echo Basin was not a major town by any means. In fact, both you and Kylo spent all of graduate school telling people you were from Yavin just to spare the confused looks and odd questions. But while Kylo only ever pulled further away from your hometown and the people in it, you often pondered what life would have been like if you’d stayed. But it was never more than a thought, as the business at hand was always more pressing and besides, you were successful here. What more could you ask for?

 “We lived there for the first 18 years of our lives. We grew up at Imperial U.” Kylo snaps you out of your brief reverie and brings your attention back to his now clearly disinterested demeanor, as he scrolls through his phone. “Whatever, it’s your ‘vacation.’ As long as you don’t end up like that traitor.” He pauses, about to elaborate before he shakes his head and continues scrolling. “Still, we have a meeting with Hux approximately... four minutes ago. So, whenever you’re ready, princess.”  

You turn away from him, to the window and look out among the bustling streets and impassive skyscrapers of the city. The few rays of sunshine in your office have taken off, leaving the room colder than usual. Dark clouds look to be rolling in from the east. You faintly recall the weatherman standing next to a big snowflake on the TV this morning. You didn’t believe him before.  

“Sure. I’ll meet you there.” 

_____________

You give your best death glare to the array of lights flashing at you from the dashboard. They blink meaningfully, as if you have a clue what any of them mean, as snow continues to pelt the windows of the car. The hours long drive has exhausted your vision and the windshield is slowly becoming a wall of white. Maybe you should have invested in those 5 Hour Energies after all. Your assistant had offered to buy you an array of energy supplements or drinks for the trip, but in a foolish attempt to not show any weakness in front of employees and peers, you refused. Ah, hubris. 

Still, you drive on, heat blasting to offset the nearly year-round chill of your hometown and do your best to keep a positive attitude. But that attitude only proves more difficult to keep as the wheels of your precious TIE give an unpleasant bump and the sleet lined road is finally starting to make you chew your lip. 

“Come on. Only a few more miles to go.” You gently goad your car, pointedly ignoring the GPS and its remaining 80 miles. 

 The car answers only with another lurching screech. Then a sputter. Then a whine.

 The noises pause, as if waiting for a reply. 

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper. But your threat only comes out as a plea. 

Without your permission and seemingly out of spite, the car sputters and begins to slow, your frantic attempts on the gas giving no support. Continuing forward with only your momentum, you manage to gently steer your beloved, stupid car off towards the snowy treeline purely on instinct.

Out in the snow, on this one-lane highway, as the sun sets at 4:00 PM on a Friday, your car stops moving. 

 You sit in the stalled vehicle, as frozen as the miles of nothingness around you. You’re going to die here. Your shaking hands clutch the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip and you let out an angered scream worthy of an Academy Award. You just wish you were acting. 

 You manage to scream yourself out of breath, but the stupid thought won’t go away. You’re going to die here. What a stupid childish thought. You’ll be fine, just act like an adult. 

“Ok, ok. Calm down. You’re not far from town. Grow up and find out what’s wrong with your car like a reasonable car owner.” You reach for the door handle and are met with only another gust of wind, pushing all of the snow it can carry in your direction and your body shivers at the mere idea. 

“Ok, maybe just call someone.” 

Your phone is a lot of things. You’ve spent countless hours with it scrolling through stocks, shouting at people, being shouted at, scoffing at idiotic articles that don’t know the first thing about you. In fact, it's probably your only friend. And now, in the middle of nowhere, it feels like a lifeline.  

Your brain briefly recalls the fuzzy image of the old auto shop you would sometimes pass while getting groceries all those years ago, but whatever name was on the sign escapes you. So you’re left with dialing the first place that shows up on Google and crossing your fingers.  

Ring

Ring

“Pick up.”

Ring

“Please.”

Click.

“Rebel Auto, this is Rose. How can I help you?” 

A cheerful woman’s voice answers at the end of a laugh, as if joking around had kept her from picking up. You sigh in relief, but are quietly alarmed as the fact that you can see your breath already. The car is cooling quickly. 

Without a second thought, you put on the ‘phone call voice’ you’ve mastered for over a decade and get straight to the point. 

“Yes, Hi. My car has just broken down on the main highway, just after mile...” you turn around try to note the mile marker, but the fog on the inside and the snow on the outside are doing everything they can to make your job impossible. “77? I believe? Anyway, I need a tow into town and a repair as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Oh.” The woman seems caught off guard at your brusk and smooth tone. There’s a sound of shuffling papers and she clears her throat. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll send someone out immediately. I-In the meantime can you identify your make and model?”

Immediately. Perfect, at least if you freeze, there will be someone close enough to find your body. With another breath of relief, you allow yourself to actually relax, even examine your nails. Damn, when did you get that chip on the thumb?

“Yes, it’s a 2021 TIE Striker. And if you’re going to ask me what the problem is, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about cars. It was driving and then it wasn’t.” 

“A… TIE Striker? Wow… Uhm-” Rose seems at a momentary loss for words, you’re not quite sure why. “Not often people drive TIEs and not know anything about cars.” She laughs. You don’t. 

“Well, Rose if that’s all I-” Something about the name coming out of your mouth gives you pause. Dots that you didn’t know were there start to connect. 

“Wait, Rose? Rose... Tico?” 

“Uhm…” her gulp is audible through the phone. “Yes?”

Now is when you laugh. You almost feel dumb enough to smack yourself on the forehead. Almost.

You clear your throat and put on your best impression of Ms. Holdo.

“Ms. Tico this is Honors English, not shop class. If you could please put away your… creation. ”

You wait with bated breath. You’re not even really sure if you remember how to make jokes anymore but you do remember this one from so long ago. Don’t make me look crazy.

You get the reaction you were looking for and then some. 

“ NO WAY ! ”

It’s your only warning before something your pretty sure is your name is squealed out on the other end of the line, so loudly in fact that you have to hold your phone a good distance away to avoid permanent ear damage. 

A grin, half pleased, half cringing, spreads across your face as the squealing continues.

“Yes, it’s me,” you laugh. 

“Oh my god. Are you back? Does this mean your back? I saw you on the cover of Wired! You looked hot !”

“Rose, one question at a time!” The bombardment usually irks you, interviewers or paparazzi stumbling over themselves just to get some dirt. But this kind feels oddly… nice? It feels genuine. Like she’s asking because she likes you. But… that can’t be the case, can it?

“Sorry, sorry!” You can practically hear her calming herself down. “Ugh, it’s just so cool to have you back in town. You are back in town right? That’s why you’re stuck on the highway?” 

“Yeah. It’s my parents' thirty-fifth anniversary and I haven’t been back in about fifteen years… I thought it might be time.” 

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see you! This is going to be so fun.” The heartfelt warmth of her tone makes the chilling air around you just that more bearable. But a sound cuts through from wherever she is and she turns back to friendly business. “Anyway, I’ll let you go, but I’ll see you at the shop soon! Poe left about five minutes ago, so he’s on his way. Bye!”

“Oh, alright. Uhm, bye.”

 You hear a few excited giggles before the beep cuts them off, leaving you in the silent car once again, with a strange hollowness sitting sickly in your chest. It wouldn’t have been so bad to just talk a little longer. But, that was odd, wasn’t it? Maybe it only felt odd because... you couldn’t remember the last time a friend had called. When was the last time you spoke to someone who seemed to actually care about you?  

Shaking your thoughts from the uneasy turn of conscious, you turned out to the sunset that has been steadily falling for the past half hour. Blinking tiredly, you hope that whoever is coming for you is quick. You attempt to recall the name she gave but it has already fallen to the back of your mind. Closing your eyes, you think it might not be a bad idea to get a tiny nap in meanwhile. Just a tiny one. Not a big -

______________

A rumbling that shakes the car jerks you out of your peaceful rest, and you shiver, the car much colder than you remember. Looking around, it’s quickly apparent your nap was much longer than the ‘tiny’ one you had so stupidly planned. It’s pitch black, the forest completely dark around you, and the only light comes from the bright headlights heading straight your way. Blinking groggily, you shield your eyes to the approaching vehicle, but the lights begin turning away, as the large truck appears to pull a U-turn, pulling in front of your car.  

Oh, thank god. Your savior has arrived.

A figure steps out of what you can now see is a tow truck. A flashlight leads their way in the treacherous snow as they approach, and you step out to greet them. The bitter chill hits you instantly causing a visceral shiver to overtake your body. 

“You alright there?” A warm, slightly scratched voice cuts across the wind, and your assuring smile only comes out as a grimace. 

“It’s just freezing is all.”

“We’ll see if we can get you warmed up then.”

You and the man meet halfway, only a few feet apart, and with your eyes steadily adjusting and the bright moonlight above, you can now make out his features.

Dashing is the only word that comes to mind as your brain short circuits. He is handsome. He’s instantly beautiful in an almost familiar way, like you could call his features home. Warm and gorgeous dark eyes blink back in their own caught-off-guard way, as you finally come back into the moment at hand and the man standing before you.

“Wow.” He speaks in something close to a whisper, and it’s almost lost to the wind. But he clears his throat before you can ask what has him so thrown.  

“You -uh- called the auto shop right?” He drags his eyes away from you and over to your sad, slumped over TIE behind you. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and drop your gaze, nodding. 

“Yes. That was me. Sorry for all the trouble.” 

You suddenly feel very foolish and very embarrassed. You had expected some no one townie, not this heartthrob that could have easily replaced Errol Flynn in any of his biggest features. Having him drive all the way out in this weather just to take care of your stupid car feels very rude, and you suddenly wish you knew more about cars.

“Why don’t you get situated up front and I’ll get this set up back here?”

Sneaking a glance back up, you meet his eyes and quickly look away again, nodding once more. 

“Sure.”

You go to move past him, making a good few feet of footprints in the snow when a thought shoots through your brain at light speed and you’re jogging back to your car as fast as your designer boots will take you. You should have invested in a better pair of boots for the snow it seems because you don't make it very far before your front foot slips out from under you and your arms fly out looking for anything to grasp onto.

But Poe’s are quicker, instantly their firm grasp has a hold around you and your fall is cut short as you are held tightly against him.  

His breath comes out as a chuckle and he looks down at you, “What’s the hurry?”

You laugh slightly too, quickly righting yourself and trying to purge the memory of his arms around you and how nice it felt. 

“I forgot my bags is all.” 

Without a second glance, you march, much more carefully this time, towards the back of your car.

Poe runs a hand through his curly snow-flecked hair, smirking to himself.  

Ok, this could be interesting. 

-

notes: thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 should be up soon, though I can't guarantee a strict schedule. I have this whole fic plotted out though, so we ain't winging it! We'll finish this thing!

[captainchrisbaby]

Electric Touch Chapter 2

Summary: A young girl winds up abandoned and unconscious on the doorstep of the Avengers HQ. She has no memory of who she is and no idea what she is now capable of. Steve Rogers stands by her side as she attempts to rediscover her past and how she ended up there but she soon discovers she’s a lot more than the girl she use to be. She is now faced with learning to control her new abilities.

My hands shake while I let the doctor cover the small holes left from the tubes I ripped out. I sit in silence trying to recall the wild events from only 30 minutes before and when the last one is done I remain still. Did I kill that man? The thought haunts me. The doctor makes eye contact for a brief second and exits the room through the door behind me.

“He’s afraid of me.” I whisper as I sense Steve behind me. I turn my head and lock eyes with him, he stands against the door frame so perfectly postured and my heart skips a beat.

“Didn’t realise you heard me come in.” He raises his eyebrows and walks over to the chair opposite me to take a seat. We briefly lock eyes but the overwhelming rush of guilt causes me to shy away. “He’s not afraid of you, he was just being professional. He’s not usually the chattiest doctor either.” His reassuring smile doesn’t meet his eyes nor does it convince me.

“Whatever.” I whisper, dropping my eyes back to my hands.

He watches me for a few silent seconds making me squirm slightly from nerves.

“He’s ok.” My eyes dart to his.

“What did you say?” My voice shakes as relief flows through me.

“Sam’s fine. You gave him a bit of a shock, it knocked him unconscious… but he’ll be fine.” His eyes never leave mine. “You want to tell me how you have the ability to electrocute me?” His voice turns from soft to stern. “Not many people can drop me with a single touch.” His head tilts slightly to the side as he encourages my answer.

My head shakes, “I don’t know.” He reads me for a second then satisfied that I’m not lying he looks away deep in thought.

“What’s your name.” He questioned.

The question makes my stomach drop. It’s the last thing I thought about before the panic episode I had earlier. A tear wells in my eye and my shaky hands pick up their pace.

“I don’t know.” My voice is so quiet and cracks as the words leave my mouth.

“You don’t know your name?” He puzzled.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember anything.” My words fumble as I struggle to get them out. “I really don’t remember anything from before I woke up here.” The tear finally falls and I quickly wipe it away in hopes he didn’t see it. I know he is just as confused as I am… I can feel it.

“Alright, you get some rest, I have a few things I need to sort out.” He finally says, he stands and starts for the door when you quickly raise. “Can I have a shower or something? I smell soggy and burnt which is really bothering me right now!” I beg.

“Well we don’t really have a shower in this section…” He informs me. He watches the disappointment fall over my face and straightens up. “You can use the shower in my room but you have to be quick. Stark is on his way and he won’t be impressed to hear you aren’t in here being restrained.” He presses.

“Restrained?” I question, a frown furrows on my face.

“He has access to everything… including security footage from this building.” I can feel he sympathises for me and it makes me soften.

———-

I wipe the water from my face with the clean towel Steve had folded on the bench for me. The bathroom is steamy from the long shower I couldn’t bring myself to end. In there all I could hear was the running water and all the chaos outside was muted. I walk over to the vanity and start to get dressed with the clothes Steve left out for me. He said they belonged to a friend that also stays at the HQ occasionally but she won’t mind. As I slip the grey tight shirt on I look up into the mirror for the first time. I let out a shaky breath as step towards it. I pick up my towel and push it against the mirror wiping away the fog and it reveals a small fragile girl behind it. I stare at my reflection and take it all in. My long dark hair falls well past my breasts and my hazel eyes glow with their bloodshot background. I reach up and touch my small narrow nose and I bite my lip as I glance down at it. My face is pale and I look just as exhausted as I feel. My arms are skinny and don’t hold much muscle, I must not be much of a sporty type. I keep staring at myself, I know this is my body and even though I feel like I’m rediscovering it all over again there still is some familiarity with it.

A loud knock at the door causes me to jump and swing around. “One minute!” I shout as I finish putting the last of my clothes on. When I’m finished I fold the used towel and place it neatly on the bench before exiting the bathroom.

“Are you ok?” Steve queried. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He gave a soft friendly smile and for the first time today I managed one back.

“Maybe I have.” I tilt my head to the side and smile bigger. I watch as he turns and heads into the kitchen, he begins putting the dishes away and I step slightly closer as I watch him. He looks so handsome in the reflection of the window, his strong features and broad shoulders are becoming more indented in my brain and the thought of him being the only person I know makes me want to stay close to him no matter what.

“Steve.” I hesitated, “Why are you being so nice to me?” I probed. “I attacked you… I somehow electrocuted you and your friend, I’ve given you no information on who I am or why I’m here and you’ve just trusted me from the start? Why?” I shake my head with confusion. “I fricken electrocuted you! It literally came out of my hand!” A wave of panic rushes over me as the reality of what I’m saying sets in. “That’s not even possible. I’m going crazy! I must be!” My voice trembles in worry as I look down at my hands. I watch them waiting to see if the electricity pulses through them once again, I wait for confirmation that I am in fact going crazy.

“Hey calm down!” Steve marches over to me and grabs both of my wrists. I look up into his eyes then straight past him to the window, I let out a gasp at my reflection. It was the same as a few minutes ago in the bathroom only this time as I felt the now familiar course of energy running through my veins the only thing that has changed are my eyes. Blue, they were glowing blue so brightly it was completely unnatural.

“You need to calm down or you’re going to shock me again.” His voice brings my attention back to him. “Breath!” He orders and as I stare deeply in his eyes I know I’m safe. My breathe deepens and slows as he guides me through it. “Good, in and out.” He encourages as he breathes with me.

“I like to think I have a good judge of character.” He whispers as I finally calm myself. I look up at him and he is smiling.

“That’s it? All this craziness and you trust me because of your judge of character?” I raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a small chuckle. “You didn’t attack us, you defended yourself. I did the same thing when I woke up.” He empathised.

“Woke u-” Steve cut me off.

“That’s a story for another day.” He ushered us out of his room and down the hallway.

____

I sit in the large office chair Steve had directed me too and I wait for him to return. I look around taking in my surroundings… there wasn’t much to look at. I was in some sort of meeting room with a large table and eight large chairs cuddling it. I sit in mine so spaciously and it reminds me how small I am. So fragile and I hate it.

I tap my foot with impatience as I wait for Steve to return. After a couple of minutes I hear his swift footsteps echo down the hall nearing the meeting room. He walks in and places a bottle of water and a grilled cheese sandwich on the table. I thank him before guzzling half the bottle then begin with the sandwich. I rub my eyes as the tiredness is creeping up with me. I check the clock on the wall and seeing the time instantly makes me yawn. 1am! No wonder I’m so exhausted.

He sits across from me in silence keeping an eye on his phone while I finish eating. Right as I finish we heard a DING.

“Tony is here.” He warns then stands and walks over to me.

“Who is Tony?” I wonder.

“Tony Stark, he’s a friend. Just let me do most of the talking. You’ll be fine.” He assures. I can sense there’s a bit of uncertainty in his words. Then outside the room through the glass wall I see am man marching down the hallway towards the meeting room entrance. I furrow my brows as I study over him trying to work out what I am seeing. Below his neck he is wearing a large suit that looks like its made of metal and in his hand is a brief case. I stand from my seat and move next to Steve.

“What the hell is that?” I hiss. The familiar feeling of fear washes over me.

“It’s his suit. Think of it like armour, there’s no need to worry.” His eyes stay on the man as he enters the room. “Stark.” He welcomed.

“Cap.” Tony responded, but other than his one word he didn’t acknowledge him at all. Instead his eyes studied me. “Who are you?” He snapped in an almost mocking manner. I silently gulp. I can feel his anger and fear from across the room and it immediately makes me uneasy. I take a breathe and step backwards enough so that Steve is slightly shielding me. I feel embarrassed that I feel I need him to protect me but this has been one crazy night and to say that I’m a little unsure of myself right now would be an understatement.

“Tony take it easy, she’s had a rough night.” Steve pleads.

“Rough night? She put Wilson in the hospital, what the hell is she doing in the meeting room. We have cells for a reason.” Tony growled before turning his attention back on me. “You turn up out of no where, put a man in the hospital then stroll around here like nothing happened?” He takes a step closer and I flinch stepping further behind Steve. Tony stops and takes a second to breath, his eyes remain on me. I must look like a damn lost puppy.

Tony looks at Steve and the frustration is clear on his expression. He walks over to the large boardroom table and swings his briefcase up, his eyes still on me. He clicks it opened and pulls the lid up to reveal its contents. I wrinkle my nose and draw my brows together as I try to work out why he has a set of gloves in a brief case.

“Tony don’t-“ Steve begins.

“It’s a precautionary measure… Because we are the Avengers and we would be stupid not to take precautionary measures given our history of attempted hostile takeovers…” He taunted.

“She is not going to hurt anyone, she was just scared.” Steve argued, his voice stern and powerful.

“She already did hurt someone!” Tony cautioned.

“It’s fine.” I interrupt. “He doesn’t trust me and he’s afraid of me, I would be too.” I add. “He doesn’t know who I am and for goodness sakes neither do I!” I walk over to him cautiously and put out my hands.

“I’m not afraid of you.” He proclaims with a scoff.

I look him dead in the eyes and say with completely certainty, “Yes you are.”

________________________________________

Next Chapter

Special Thanks to my girl @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho for being so helpful and supportive <3 

@donutloverxo @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @stop-obsessing-over-those-actors​ @nbarnes​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @goavengers​

[gwoongi]

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (1)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 6793

You just wanted humanity to survive.

warnings: violence, swearing, sexual content, gore and blood, death, taboo themes, drug and alcohol use

a/n: hi!! this has been in the works for literally. a year. maybe even longer. it has caused me so much pain and stress + im so happy to be putting her out into the world!!!!! thank you for all your endless support and i hope u all like this fic!!!!!!! :D ((it is a revised version of my older “the last of us” fic on cosykims!)) 

[ Moodboard || Playlist ]

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05. scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare

“...city centre is now closed until further notice, after a bomb was detected near the subway station at 3:45pm. Reports say that the bomb was not a hoax, and was indeed planted there by foreign intel…”

“After three major bomb alerts in cities across the country, the senator has released a statement saying the following: Relations with foreign powers are continuing to get worse. Bombs are being planted around our country, and the threat of nuclear war is among us. Currently there are no dramatic changes, but our channel will keep everybody within the area notified.”

“...I repeat, this is not a drill. North Korea have finally declared nuclear war on the western hemisphere, challenging other powers to ready their weapons and start to fight. Curfew is now under way, and everybody must report to nearby shelters in the case of an emergency. May God be with you all.”

“...thanks, Janet. What we are seeing here is the aftermath of what appears to be catastrophic damage done by a foreign bomb in New York City. Thousands of people are suspected to be dead and bombs are still being detected in the radar. This is no longer a fantasy - this is the reality of our country. God Bless America.”

“...months after the fighting has ceased across the Globe, the Government have set up control areas to prevent the possibility of an infection, of which was caused by the toxic chemicals of the bombs dropped just three months ago. Citizens are to be evacuated within three miles of controlled areas and gas masks are being supplied to everybody South of Nebraska….”

“...what appears to be a virus has spread throughout controlled quarantines this evening. Reports from the state suggest that the word ‘zombie’ might fit the description of this virus. This is not a joke, I repeat, we are dealing with a nationwide crisis here. Everybody is to stay within their homes.”

“...the world is ending….hundreds and thousands of people are expected to fall to the virus caused by the aftermath of war...flesh-eating zombies….may God be with us all….oh God...oh God!”

Three Years In 01:12am.

Contrary to popular belief, there were many good things about the apocalypse. One, you wagered, was the fact that there was barely any pollution in the air; in fact, on an evening, you could see the whole galaxy without a telescope, breathing in the life of speckles of white, shooting ivories and the smile of a lonely moon. Two, there were no official rules to life. Unlike life before, no human is illegal, now. Border control is non-existent, and immigration and tax and how much money you’re going to make come payday is no longer important to anybody still alive. And three, if you were lucky, it was always silent.

Before, you used to sneer at silence. The way it mocked you, and humiliated you after a high-school presentation, or after the punchline of a joke. The way the silence slowly picked at your bones and flesh in the attic bedroom of your grandparents’ bungalow in the northern part of the city, secluded in mountains and barren trees; the silence laughing at the way you stared out that small box window, praying for a miracle to make noise. 

But now, silence is your new best friend. Silence indicates that nothing is near, and danger is less likely. It heightens every sense, and keeps you awake at night. Against any loyal survivor or camp-member, you valued silence as the number one ally.

Sniffing once, you caught your nose running, stepping over a large pile of rubble that had fallen from the roof of the warehouse you were currently based in. Careful to not awaken any of your fellow campers, you made your way towards the large wire fence, pulling a cable tie around the sliced wire to tie it together - an unpractical reinforcement, although quieter than chains. And as designated leader of the camp, you admit that it’s hard to keep everybody sane and grounded. Safety was of paramount importance, but you can’t fake it. You can’t lie to your campers by saying everything is safe. Because nothing is safe anymore.

Scraping scrap metal across the tarmac, the distant sound of boots made you glance up, noticing the familiar scuff of red leather and you turned away, not having to look up to know it’s the new guy, Kim Taehyung.

“Need any help?” his voice called across the loud silence, his fingers toying with a loose strand of polyester attached to his jacket.

“I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, fiddling still with the ties around the looped chain.

Taehyung moved forward anyway, indifferent about the tense tone of your voice. He missed the hint entirely, coming closer when all you want is for him to go away. “It doesn’t look like you’ve got it. Here, I’ll hold the fence.”

You flinched when he appeared by your side, your face meeting his helpful gaze with a sharp glare. Regardless, you sighed loudly and relaxed, letting him hold the fence in place as you wrapped around the cable tie, clamping it closed before moving to the next hole created by cutters.

“Are you always this pushy?” you asked, avoiding his stare as you worked to close all the possible entrances (and exits).

“I just wanted to help,” Taehyung confessed quietly. “I felt pointless in there, not falling asleep. Plus, Jiyong snores. I wanted some peace and quiet.”

At that, you scoffed and smile. “Well, I can believe that. He’s always been a snorer, ever since high-school.”

Taehyung made a noise of acknowledgement, finally accepting defeat and crouching quietly beside you, wordless but inquisitive. It had only been three days since he joined the camp by chance; he was one of the lucky ones who approached your camp and made it inside. A law you lived by, inside your cluttered and hazy and scared brain, was that you never accepted outsiders into the camp. Sticking by friends you’ve known and trusted for years seemed safer than blindly trusting someone you had never met before. But, as Seunghyun pointed the sniper rifle at his tuft of brown hair hanging on his forehead, Yena had bounced down from the watch-tower with wide eyes - “he needs a Doctor, Y/N. He’s bleeding from his knee. We have the supplies, we can save his life.”

You just wanted humanity to survive.

And so the gates opened and he lay down on a medical bed inside the warehouse, and Yena and Jisoo helped patch up his wounds. Now, here he is; lingering in the shadows of the warehouse, limping across the length of the grounds, begging for jobs to keep himself occupied.

“You work a lot,” Taehyung noted. “I never see you sleep at night. Insomnia?”

“One person always stays on guard during the night,” you explain, tugging at the wire to make sure it holds. “I volunteer because there’s always something that needs to be done around here. If you think you’re safe, you’re wrong. Nobody else wants to do it, so I will. Just to keep myself busy, mainly.”

Taehyung nodded. “I get that. Before I came here, I just walked. I never stopped walking from where I was, constantly looking for somewhere safe to go.”

“Ain’t that the way,” you replied. With nothing left to do with the fence, you eventually turned to look at him, staring at his face outlined by the dim gas-lighter by the door to the warehouse. “You been on your own for a while?”

“No,” he answered, hesitantly. “I was with my sister when the virus first broke out. We were both at NYU. We got separated in the manic and I joined a small group of science students on their way to find a cure. Clearly, that didn’t work out. I figured it was safer on my own, you know? I had no idea where she went. So, I walked.”

“And your leg?” you asked, looking at his knee, still wrapped in soaked bandages. “You got hurt pretty bad, huh? Biter get you?”

“Unfortunately not. I got jumped by a couple bandits on my way here. I got away when a few walkers came by, but barely escaped. Then, I came here.”

You stood up as he spoke, him following your every move like a mirror. “‘Walkers.’ You can tell you’re from New York.”

Moving away from Taehyung, your feet take you to the mid-height fence near the drop towards the forest, a view overlooking the tops of tall trees, a spiralling path faded by fog and the familiar outline of a deserted city near the horizon. Kicking the fence gently, it stays in place, requiring no fortifications or attention. Nothing could climb the steep drop beneath it. Resting your elbows on the beach wood of the fence, you rest your weight and stare towards the city, analysing the corners of each building, jagged lines like a maths puzzle.

“While I was getting patched up,” Taehyung began, after a long moment of serene silence, “Jisoo told me that you guys go out on trips, hunts in cities. How many have you covered?”

“Only one,” you replied, nodding in the direction of the city in front of you. “That’s Denver. It’s so large that we barely covered a third of it in the two years we’ve been here. We planned to keep moving, but we had some...complications along the way. We got trapped up here. Every week we send out a group to scavenge the cities, find whatever we can to prepare us for travels. And last week, Jiyong’s pick-up truck ran out of gas for good, so anything we can find to help get that back and running would be great.”

Taehyung nodded with understanding, picking at the dry skin around his bitten-down fingernails. “I hear it’s in a few days. Shouldn’t you be asleep, resting for it?”

“I can’t sleep,” you said quietly. “Not anymore. And it’s like I said, there’s always shit that needs to be done. The drive to the city is around half hour, I can catch some z’s on the way there and between shifts. Why so curious, anyway? You coming with us, or something?”

He shrugged. “Can I?”

“Have you got anything better to do?” you retort, and he smiles slightly, looking down. “I hear you’re a good runner. We could use the extra legs and arms. If your knee’s up to it, course.”

Gratefully, he nodded with acceptance. “Come to think of it, your group is quite small. Has it always been this selective?”

As the words left his lips, Taehyung felt himself regret that sentence, noticing the way you tensed next to him, hands pausing in their movement of toying a blade of grass that hugged the fence post.

“I’m sorry. That was rude-”

“There were others,” you replied tensely, your demeanour changed instantly. “But like all other groups, we lost people along the way. Good people. Kind and loving people. In a world where life is so short, I can’t afford to lose anybody else.”

You clapped his shoulder roughly, “you’re new, Taehyung, and I don't expect you to understand. But we’re a family here, and the safety of the group is essential. You’re gonna lose people along the way but…”

Your voice trailed off, and Taehyung looked up. He got it. You didn’t have to continue speaking for him to put the pieces together.

Two Days Later. 08:19am.

The lively sound of a rumbling engine stirred Taehyung awake, the noise travelling from the square all the way to the South-Wing, painted in yellow as ‘Zone S’. S for sleep, or S for safety, Taehyung couldn’t quite decipher.

Sitting on the rectangle straw-sheet, he slipped on his socks and signature ruby leather boots, carrying his jacket over his arms as he left the zone and moved towards the square, where the sun bled out onto the dusty tarmac, a glimmer of glittering light causing him to squint as he crossed the width of the kitchen. He smiled at Yena, the youngest in the group, only eighteen amongst middle-aged outcasts, and passed her at the table, ignoring her wavering stare.

“Taehyung. Good morning.”

He forced himself to smile over at Taekwoon, only slightly intimidated by the size of his muscles behind a grey sleeved tee, and the way he effortlessly lifted a duffel bag filled with weapons into the trunk of the Subaru. Taekwoon looked over gently, in an effort not to afraid the newbie, and then he shut the boot of the car and approached him.

“You coming on our trip today?” he asked, and Taehyung nodded.

“Did you clear it with Y/N?”

“Yes,” he replied surely. “She invited me.”

Taekwoon smiled mockingly, laughing out of his nose. “Right. Sure she did.”

Taehyung blinked, unfamiliar. “Where is Y/N? Isn’t she coming with us?”

“Yeah. Protocol around here is similar to certain armies,” Taekwoon explained lamely. “The leader always helps out on missions. Hey, she’s nothing like that old guy out of Wonder Woman, I’ll tell you that.”

“Y/N is the leader?” Taehyung asked dumbly.

Taekwoon turned then, resting a hand upon the hot black exterior of the car. “Does that shock you?”

“Kinda. She looks so…”

He didn’t continue, but Taekwoon nodded in understanding. “We get it. But without her, none of us would be here. I couldn’t think of anyone better leading us. Well, I mean, I’d proper love a Rick Grimes around here, but you can’t have everything. Jiyong and Seunghyun are technically leaders, too, but we just say Y/N is to deprive them the satisfaction of feeling powerful.”

From behind him, the short sound of footsteps made Taehyung turn, meeting your gaze halfway as you briskly passed him, cheeks clammy, freckles on display. He’d never noticed them before. At your entry, the group of hunters gathered around the bonnet of the car as you spread a map down on it with a short slap, a dying red Sharpie in your hand, circling the next part of the city.

“Last week we went to this section, so try and focus on these areas today,” you explained, waiting for Taehyung to shift into a position where he could see the map carefully. “Denver was one of the worst hit cities, so we could either be lucky and find bodies, or unlucky and find biters. Either way, try and avoid making sound. We have the radios and walkies in-case we get into any sort of trouble. If we lose signal, meet at the car before sunset. Remember - don’t risk your life if one of us doesn’t arrive on time. Give it five minutes after the sun begins to disappear, and if we’re not here, go on ahead. We can’t sacrifice our supplies for the sake of one man. It’s harsh, and we go through this every time, but I’m making it clear to the fresh meat.”

Everybody, minus Taehyung and his bewildered expression, nodded with understanding, a quiet murmur overpowering the groan of the dead hanging in the shadows of the forest surrounding the warehouse.

“Is there anything anybody wants to ask for before we head onto the road?” Jiyong asked, his voice in the same usual volume- quieter than a shout, slightly louder than a whisper.

“Gas is a priority,” Taehyung suggested, remembering the conversation about the useless pick-up truck sitting in the back near the barrens.

Taekwoon nodded, “we need gas for the truck, and in-case our getaway vehicle runs out unexpectedly. We’re on our last few drops.”

“The usual, I’d expect. Food is obvious, water, clean water. Clothes, or batteries would be great, too. Never skip over a store because it looks empty,” Doyoung, Yena’s brother and the best shooter within the group aside from Seunghyun, said, looking at Taehyung all the while. “Pharmacy's look emptied, but there’s always the office near the back that’s filled with extra medicine. The keys are usually on a staff member who’s lurking or dead. You have materials that can pick the lock.”

“How do you know that for sure?” Taehyung asked, meanwhile the rest of the group readied the truck. You stayed near Taehyung, eager to hear what he had to say.

“I used to work at my Dad’s pharmacy before shit hit the fan,” Doyoung shrugged. “I know my way around a pharmacy, is all.”

Having little else to do, Taehyung simply nodded and stood still, waiting for the group to finish setting up the car, with Taekwoon riding his motorcycle near the front like a Police escort.

“Ready?” you asked, stopping by his side as the group hollered for everybody to get inside. Yena hurried out towards the gate, hanging by the loose chain ready to open it up. Taehyung sucked in a breath quietly, and looked at you with as much optimism as he could. It came out falsely, but you appreciated his efforts.

“Not really. Will I ever be?”

You didn’t know how to answer that. No response was good.

The city was unusually quiet.

Beside you, in the back of the car, Taehyung stared silently at the scenery as it rolled past, just as the car crossed into the city’s territory. Immediately, he could see the stark contrast between the wilderness and the madness; a concrete jungle, overpowered by lush green and forest ferns, weeds that turreted as high as traffic lights snaking up the drains of apartment complexes, tufts of cloth dancing in the breeze. Despite the damage from nuclear destruction, Taehyung was surprised that nature could take over so quickly. He stared in silence at the sight of rusted vehicles abandoned in the streets, decorated with blood red graffiti, the walls of buildings reading “DEAD INSIDE” or “KEEP OUT”, neither better than the other. As the car crossed through an intersection, down one of the streets, water had eroded the roads; murky green water bouncing off the heavy sunlight creating patterns on the brickwork, faded and dressed in dark ivy.

“Reminds me of Chernobyl,” Taehyung commented on the way there.

As the car pulled up in a relatively deserted section of the city, Jiyong switched off the gas and hopped out instantly, wasting zero time. Taehyung clambered out afterwards, holding open the door as you climbed out after him, nodding as a thank-you, already familiarising yourself with the silence.

Taekwoon began to hand out weapons from the duffel bag in the boot as you stared in all directions, analysing pathways and gaps between buildings. Craning upwards, the canopy of unstable concrete, the decaying body of two large towers collided together, made you feel uneasy, and you turned back towards the group, gladly taking a pistol and extra ammunition.

“Remember the rules,” you reminded. “Stay in your partners. Taekwoon and Doyoung, go North. Jiyong, Seunghyun, go West. Jisoo, you’re okay to go South, yes? I’ll take the newbie with me East.”

Jisoo nodded, loading her gun. “I don’t need a man to slow me down.”

“Just be careful,” you warned, happy to see her confident going alone. Taehyung shifted from foot to foot, shakily taking a pistol from the bottom of the bag and following behind you as you moved towards the East direction, towards the fallen ruins of Denver city.

After some minutes of silence, Taehyung spoke up: “where are we going?”

“Further into the city,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Most of the stores close to the square have been checked already. But the ones further in the city are more likely to stay in tact. Nobody comes in here unless they want to die. Thankfully, it seems quiet today.”

“We got lucky, then,” he decided.

“I hope you’re right.”

A few more minutes in, and Taehyung felt himself cower at the sight of more skyscrapers leaning together, debris falling from the sky and landing in tufts near his feet. He ignored the stained blood from feet as he crossed a gravel pathway, near a sectioned off waterpool barricaded by old cars. Distracting himself, Taehyung invested his attention towards yourself, watching cautiously as you fiddled with buttons on the small radio you picked up along the way.

“Should you really be using that out in the open?”

You paused, scoffing slightly. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I believe you, but, that’s making noise.”

“What about it?”

Taehyung narrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Noise attracts walkers.”

With a final sigh, you turned to him over your shoulder. “You’re going to attract ‘walkers’ in a minute. Just...keep your voice down, yeah? The radio is our only way to communicate with those outside our group. It’s either this, or walking straight into death. You want that?”

“Obviously not,” he replied.

Opting to keep you happy, Taehyung didn’t say anything else. Instead, he followed your heels closely, muttering soft thanks when you lifted up a beam for him to duck under, or pointed out a hole of muddy water that was probably contaminated. In his ears, he listened for the sound of something - anything - to come through on the radio, when a voice cut through the radio static.

“...nothing left. I’m leaving the city, with as many people as I can. We have to leave people behind, but...they’re in no position to travel. Alby is sick, and Jaena’s leg is infected. We don’t have much time left…”

Taehyung moved closer to you, and you positioned the radio so he could hear.

“There’s nothing left for anybody in City Ten. Bandits and hunters come to scavenge stores but there’s nothing we can do about it. We gathered all the medical supplies in our store room in Block 18. Fuck, I don’t know what building we are in, but we can see the large building that towers over all others from our window. Tommy came in saying he has everything ready for us to go. We’re heading North, towards Washington. Some survivors said there was a group of student scientists there with a bunch of NASA officials, working on a cure. They’re calling Washington the safe zone, or something, I can’t remember. Denver is empty.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here,” Taehyung said in a low voice, and you looked at him briefly before looking back at the radio, as if it would do something visual.

The voice continued breathily: “If you’re still in the city...if anybody even still listens to me, you need to get out. You need to head to-” she paused over the line. “Fuck, they’re here. I hear them.” Her voice got quieter, breathier, like a whisper. You decided to continue on foot next to Taehyung, waiting for her voice to come back through the line. For what felt like eternity, she made no response.

Taehyung heaved himself up over an abandoned car, extending a hand down to you to help pull you up. Climbing up after him, you snatched your hand away when you realised he was still holding onto you, brushing your hand on your jeans and jumping down from the car back onto the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, how about we head over--”

Abruptly, the woman’s voice cut back in through the silence. “Oh fuck! Oh my god, they k-killed him. They killed him, oh my God, they’re coming back for me, stop! Leave me alone!”

Her screams were screeching, loud enough to shatter glass. Taehyung immediately fumbled for the volume, hissing when the radio continued to scream out into the silence of the city. As quickly as her screams became deafening, they became deaf, fallen silent, only static replacing her noises. As if overcome with fear, you toss the radio to the side, causing it to smash into pieces.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung exclaimed suddenly.

“I don’t wanna hear that,” you replied, shaking your head furiously. “Come on, let’s keep going. We’ve already wasted time listening.”

“She’s in trouble,” Taehyung continued, nonetheless following you. “We could try and find her, and help her.”

You smiled bitterly, hiking towards the nearest convenience store at the ground of a large high-rise building, slanted and glass-covered. “Taehyung, you’re sweet. Really, and I so like that about you. You’re a good asset to the team, and I want to keep it that way. But, we can’t afford to save her. By the sounds of things, she didn’t make it.”

“You don’t know that.”

Pausing to observe a blood-covered metal bat rolling back and forth by the open door to the store, you crouch to pick it up and swing it back and forth. “You’re right, I don’t. But I care more about our survival than hers.”

Behind you, he scoffed and shook his head. “You’re heartless.”

“No, I’m realistic,” you counter, holding the door open for him and handing him the metal bat. He caught it with a breath of air. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you about it. We can discuss it back at camp. For now, we have to look in the area and find somewhere to scavenge. This’ll do for the moment. Take the chemist and the clothes, I’ll scan the aisles for food if there is any. If you see bottled water, please get some.”

Taehyung reluctantly sighed, following you through the door and flinching when his boots crunched shards of broken glass on the floor. Shuffling into place, Taehyung scanned the room with a somber expression; the shelves near the door had been stripped clean, with only crumbs and stains marking the off-white colours, faded neons screaming nursery rhymes as he approached the first aisle. To his delight, or more so relief, he noticed food still on the shelves towards the back of the store, and he moved his gaze towards the right side of the store, where a hanging light, swinging to and fro with a daunting creak, read “Clothing”, where a neon should have bled out into cyans and magentas.

“Take half an hour?” you suggested, tossing him a spare flashlight from your backpack. “Meet back here if you can’t find anything useful. Take what we need, not what you want. I mean, clothing is preference, but- you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding almost indifferent. “I know. Be careful.”

To that, you smiled. “You too.”

Waiting until Taehyung had shuffled into the shadows of the clothes department, somewhat near to the flickering blue glow of the chemist desk, you gulped and retreated towards the far shelf, crouching to pack in a can of beans and some soup, close to expiry but good enough to salvage. By the end of the search, your bag was near enough filled to the brim; you had plenty of food, and lighters to aid Jiyong’s bad smoking habit, alongside a pack of cigarettes you found at the back of the shelf next to some ammunition and a discarded wallet. A pack of batteries lay like a ripe cherry in a bunch of rotten ones, and you barely wedged it into the front pocket of your bag. Feeling successful, you swung the backpack onto your shoulders and rose from your crouch behind the shelves.

Poking your head over the stacks, the sound of Taehyung dragging clothes across the rails puts your mind at ease, distracting you from the low hum of the undead, which, as if it were possible, seemed to get louder and louder. Probably paranoia, you guessed, minding your own business as you approached the counter looking into the bakery. You stared sadly at the moulded breads and pastries, eyeing them with a new hunger. If you remembered hard enough, you could remember visiting a store just like this one and buying fish at the market, and then buying a custard cake at the bakery with your college friends.

At that thought, you looked away, leaning over the counter to eye the floor, messed with flour and footprints dotted with red shuffling towards the kitchen, where silence screamed out. You took a guess that the red wasn’t your ordinary jam, and you gulped, sadly imagining who the unlucky victim was. Shrugging off those thoughts, you prepared to pick yourself back up onto your feet when a loud shuffle made you freeze in all movement.

Please be Taehyung.

Turning around slowly, you held your breath calmly, facing the store. As you turned to look to your left, the sight of a biter hovering near the glass doorway to the side-store made a chill run up the length of your body. You did nothing. It simply stared.

Perhaps if you moved slowly, it wouldn’t see you. Albeit wishful thinking, it seemed better than nothing at this point. It stood there dauntingly, shaking from side to side with a tremor, lips torn apart and skin ripped, maggots clinging to the rotten flesh. It let out a snarl, teeth curling and stirring creamy foam out of its mouth, fingers curled like dinosaur claws. As it waited, you turned fully, hands spread flat on the counter of the desk, observing all possible exits.

There was the safe route; towards Taehyung where he could help you take out the biter coming after you. There was the risky route; straight back towards the door, where noise would attract both the biter and Taehyung anyway. Or there was the stupid route; towards the biter, ready for attack.

Thankfully, you’d seen zombie movies enough times to know that running towards the biter almost always got you killed. Instead, you moved slowly, almost unmoving entirely. The biter stayed in place, biting air, snarling at the wind. Walking as quietly as you could, you edged towards the clothing section to find Taehyung, already somewhat comforted by the continuous sound of him dragging hangers across the rails. Every step was taken without breath; afraid that even blinking would send it into a frenzy, silence was of new paramount importance.

Inching further towards Taehyung, you flinched violently when the biter growled loudly, making enough noise to pull Taehyung’s head out of the clothing racks, bag practically stuff with clothes he basically didn’t really need. When the noise was followed by silence, he gripped his bat handle tighter and dropped his backpack to the tiles with a soft thud. Taehyung moved slowly towards the open archway separating the clothes to the foods, taking his time looking at the way the lights flickered, and the sound of the wind getting caught in the tiny cracks in the window-panes.

“Y/N?” he called, unaware. His grip tightened on the bat when nothing responded, only a murmur, a groan that sounded guttural. “Y/N?”

Approaching the arch, he turned into the main foyer of the store and froze in place when he saw you; standing like a statue by the counter, facing him with eyes wide. Without saying words, he seemed to know what to do - he looked back and forth between yourself and the biter, staring at the way it swayed from side to side, occasionally jolting as if having a seizure. Looking back at you, he paused when you held your hands in front of you, as if warning him to stay away.

“Don’t move,” you mouthed, afraid of a whisper being too loud.

He nodded, although you barely caught it. “What do we do?” he mouthed back.

Catching your breath quietly, you began to move slowly towards him, dragging your feet across the tiles wiped with tomato coloured red. Taehyung held out his hands invitingly, bat still pointed outwards, shaking slightly. He couldn’t pinpoint whether it was nerves, or fear, but either one drove his hands further outwards, taking small steps of his own towards you, quiet in an effort to not distract unwanted attention.

“That’s it,” he whispered, the smallest of whispers, waving his hands slowly in circles. “Slowly…”

The taste of blood swam through your mouth as your teeth sank down onto the inside of your lip, hands shaking violently as you steadily stepped towards your partner. Closer than breath, he was steps away, when your foot came down on shards of cloudy glass.

It ripped through the silence like a cough in Church.

The biter jolted with a high-pitched scream, too loud for you to turn around to check its expression. Taehyung stared over your shoulder at the way it broke out of a trance, screeching loudly at the sight of sounds. Time was running out; Taehyung yelled your name loudly, causing you to hurry towards him to grab his hand extended outward. As you skidded past his legs, his voice rang in your ears, lips brushing your hair: “Outside! Now!”

Grabbing his bag discarded on the floor, Taehyung swung it over his shoulders as you hurried ahead, ducking through a broken window. With impatience, Taehyung pushed you out, hands on your upper-back thigh, cradling you as you jumped out the hole and onto the road. He barely made it out, tugging at the thin material of your sleeve and dragging you out into the dust on the road. From behind both of you, the doors separating the biter and the store smashed open, alerting at least a dozen others lingering nearby in the dusty shadows.

They were newly infected, still grasping on to whatever shreds of humanity they had left. Running fast, screams loud, hands still rotting the flesh away; the biters ran from behind you down the road, screaming with every step, nudging you both further down the large road to nowhere. You weren’t even sure if this was the way you came; all you seemed focused on was the sight of Taehyung’s feet leaving you behind in a cloud of dust. He was faster than you had anticipated, but, with experience, you endured the heat of the panic and gravitated towards his side.

“Y/N-” he began, looking at you with a breathless expression.

“Don’t talk!” you screamed in reply, pulling at his arm. “Just fucking run!”

Passing identical buildings, acting like copied and pasted images, it was hard to deny that you were exhausted. At one point, it felt like Taehyung was dragging your weight, your legs too tired to hurry along after his frame. The cries of hunger and agony from the biters behind you increased in volume, filling the atmosphere with a heaviness. If the group were close, they had heard the noises and thought better than sticking around.

“Turn! Here, here, here, here, don’t fucking stop running!” screamed your voice over the chaos, pushing Taehyung by his shirt towards a small and narrow alleyway between two smaller stores; a ladder, enclosed by a bar painted an ebony black, smiled in the darkness, and Taehyung thankfully ran towards it without hesitation. The sharp turn caught the mob off-guard, sending them skidding across the road.

Taehyung began to climb up the ladder, and you swiftly followed, veins pumping with fear and adrenaline, hands shivering as you climbed from step to step, height to height. A biter lunged for your boot, sinking its teeth into the heel and you kicked it in the jaw, a growl emerging from its torn jaw as it collapsed back into the hoard.

Finally reaching the top of the roof, you heaved yourself up over the low brick wall, physically feeling the exhaustion in your arms, a dampness under your armpits. Landing with a thud on top of Taehyung, a breath of hot hair released from your lips, strands of hair sticking to your forehead like cake mixture to a bowl. Both of your breaths were in sync; Taehyung lay beneath you, unmoving for the several moments of gathering breath, with the shakiness of his hands vibrating against your waist.

When the reality of lying on top of Taehyung sank in, you shuddered and lifted yourself up off his stomach, your palms scratching on the scorching hot roof. Behind you, Taehyung lifts himself up off the floor, leaning over the side of the wall to peer down at the biters below. Groans fill the air as he spots biters learning how to climb the ladder, and he gulps, saliva hot and solid moving down his dry throat.

“That was fucking insane,” he hissed, turning to you sharply as you pace in ovals on the roof. “What happened down there?”

“Biter came up on me,” you muttered, “didn’t hear it until it was too late.”

The biters congregated down below, a loud compilation of groans becoming disheartening as you fail to come up with a solution to this incredibly difficult problem. Taehyung jerks himself away from the wall, crouching to his backpack to take a swig of water he was planning to save until later. You turn halfway, thankfully taking a sip of the water he hands to you once he swallowed.

“What do we do now?” Taehyung asks, hands on his knees. He’s hunched over. “The group leaves at sundown. Will they wait?”

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head and shove the water back into his hands. “No. It’s the rules.”

“Fuck the rules,” he replies. “We’re a team.”

“Yeah, but we’ve worked this way for a while now. We won’t change just because you arrived to the group.”

Taehyung scoffed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Letting out a sigh, you pace back towards the wall overlooking the city. “It’s not ideal, I know. But if the group wait a second longer and lose their supplies to bandits or biters...it would be a waste of time. Our group are already vulnerable back at camp. We don’t wanna leave people behind. If you can help, do it, but we’re on a roof in the middle of the city and there’s no way in hell we can make it back in time without leaving right now.”

With nothing useful to say, Taehyung let his body drop with a thud on the floor, a cloud of dust circling his thighs as his bag dragged against the side of the wall. Above, the sky transitioned into auburn colours, clouds moving faster than smoke rising out a chimney, carried by the wind towards the direction of the camp. The sound of cicadas and the haunting birdsong, and the constant groan of death, was all to be heard as you clenched your outstretched hands into small balls, cursing the air with your gaze cast downwards; it eventually fell on the sight of a rusted, and unstable balcony a few stories below, a scrap of magenta cloth clinging to the corners, broken glass twinkling in the light.

As time moved, and hours rolled by, Taehyung had napped twice and your eyes would not move from the sight of the balcony, analysing each pattern and grid and rusted area, calculating jumps and falls and possible scenarios in your brain. Eventually, when the sky had darkened with rain clouds and night, the sun dipped behind a large storey building. Maybe the group would wait for you.

Maybe they’d think differently because you were their leader. Or maybe they didn’t need you.

With a fright, Taehyung jumped when you spun around to him, crouched on your knees with an urgent voice. “I have one plan, and if this plan fails, we are doomed.”

“Sounds promising,” he commented, without giving a plan of his own. Taehyung rubbed his eye with the heel of his palm.

“There’s a balcony,” you explained, moving across the roof to show him, pointing down at the brown painted overhang. He nodded with understanding, “it obviously goes into a room. We could sneak through the building and come out through the front. The herd are around the back, or in the alley, and the ones up front are too tired to react in time. We use that time to run back towards the truck. The group might have stayed behind for us, but if not, we can try to see if any of the cars around the area are salvageable. If all fails...we could camp in a building for the night. Start walking to camp. We’d be there in a day, or two.”

Taehyung stood quietly, thinking.

“It’s risky,” you considered, looking at him, bottom lip between top teeth. “But it’s the only plan I have.”

“It’s the only plan we have,” Taehyung replied. “I couldn’t think of anything better. Are you okay to run?”

Nodding your head, you adjusted the straps of your backpack, tightening it so it would manage the drop in silence. Taehyung hesitated, watching you climb over the half-wall and settle to sit, your legs hanging over the side above the short, nonetheless intimidating drop to the balcony. Quickly, however, he followed; Taehyung heaved himself up next to you, watching nervously as you pushed forward and back, with inner conflict.

“Ready?” he asked, gently, without demand.

Without talking, you pushed.

NEXT CHAPTER.

[usuk-hell]

Happiest Place On Earth (2p1p USUK)

simple, fluffy mint chocolate usuk one-shot requested by the lovely @mapleburger! i hope u enjoy <3 rated T.

A feeling of loneliness often struck Arthur in the busiest of places. Though he would never admit it out loud, he found himself somber at the fact he had few friends. He tried his best to be a charming lad, but no matter how hard, he always had an aura about him that made him come across as unapproachable and cold. He had a handful of close friends back in London, but ever since crossing the pond with the romantic idea of starting over in a new place, their contact had slowly fizzled out over the years. Work was boring and draining, he spent most of his day hunched over a desk editing other people’s shitty writing, and his sex life was… dry. Los Angeles was draining the life out of Arthur it felt like, and he ironically found himself missing the fog thick streets he had abandoned. 

After one particularly lonely Saturday morning where he had found himself staring at his ceiling fan for hours into the late noon, he decided he needed to do something about this predicament. It took a few google searches before he finally decided on a destination, and before Arthur knew it he found himself at the entrance to Disneyland. Alone. Because where else would a lonely middle-age Englishman find himself with nowhere else to go on a Saturday? The happiest place on earth. Arthur had hoped some of that so called happiness would be shared with him if he spent a few hours there, but so far he had spent most of his time wandering aimlessly, surrounded by young couples and families, all with bright smiling faces. And much to his dismay, the overwhelming feeling that he was alone in this world, and would always be alone, solidified itself in the pit of his stomach in a way that had him weaving through the crowds in search of a smoking zone. 

Arthur eventually found one tucked to the side of New Orleans Square, and spared no time in tearing open a new pack and greedily stuffing one of the tobacco filled rolls between his lips. His hands fumbled in search of his lighter, and after a moment of looking his heart sank with the realization he had left it on the dashboard of his car. His skin itched at the thought of not getting his nicotine fix when a voice to his right startled him from his habit filled thoughts. 

“Need a light?” 

The decal of a half naked woman was the first thing Arthur saw as the flame flicked to life in front of him. Tattooed fingers held the lighter to Arthur, and his gaze trailed up to meet a pair of dark eyes peaking through a few disheveled locks. A large grin revealed a sharp jawline that Arthur’s gaze did not overlook, and he found himself subconsciously stiffening in place.

“Thank you.” He nodded politely towards the man, leaning forward and allowing the fag still dangling from his lips to catch fire. Inhaling deeply, Arthur accepted the thick smoke into his lungs graciously and instantly felt his body grow lax at the familiar sensation. 

“You know that shit is bad for you.” Arthur was surprised the man was still there, and he merely shrugged in response. However, the other seemed unbothered and continued his one-sided conversation. “I actually used to smoke a lot of those things myself. Drove my ma crazy. I’d come home from school smelling like an ashtray, used to tell me they were gonna drill a hole in my throat when I got older.” 

“My mum used to tell me the same thing.” Arthur snorted, eyeing the embers as they fell from his hand. “Obviously, I don’t listen very well.” 

“Me neither! Took me a few years after I graduated to quit.” As he spoke, the tall man reached into his jeans and pulled out a thin, black pen. He put the piece to his lips and took a long drag, and Arthur watched incredulously as he exhaled the earthy smelling contents.  He didn’t notice the Brit’s stare immediately but when he did, he tipped his head to the side almost like a dog would and held the object to him. “Wanna hit?” And again with that shit-eating grin.

“What ever happened to that shit killing you?” Arthur asked, bemused.

Allen released a harsh, barking laugh so loud Arthur stepped back slightly from the force of it. “This? Nah! It won’t kill ya, but it might make you feel a little…. psychedelic.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Arthur stared back blankly. “You brought marijuana into Disneyland?” 

Allen’s eyes widened in mock horror as he pressed a finger to his lips and shushed the Englishman sarcastically. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Not aloud, but his shoulders bounced with good nature, and the reaction had the American nearly beaming.

“I’m Allen, by the way. And what can I call a handsome face like yourself?” 

Arthur jolted in place. “What? I mean, Arthur. Thanks. Bloody good to meet you.” Had he heard that right? 

“Arthur… what ‘British’ name.” 

“Not when you say it like that.”

Allen raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Arr-thurr.” The Brit snorted, obnoxiously emphasizing his R’s and cocking a thick eyebrow right back at the man. He basked in his own wittiness until that stupid fucking smile returned to Allen’s features and caused Arthur to look away grumpily as he took another drag from his cigarette.

“Fag.”

Smoke caught at the back of Arthur’s throat and he instantly responded with a series of harsh coughs, puffing out of him in clouds like some sort of flustered chimney. “… pardon?” He asked, his voice broken and small after such an outburst.

“That’s British, right? ‘Fag’?” Allen asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he gestured innocently to the burning stick between Arthur’s fingers. 

Arthur blinked at him in disbelief. “Oh. Yes. Bloody good. I should actually really be-“

“So, what brings you here, Art?” Allen interrupted, once again bringing the pen to his mouth. He took a long drag before parting his lips slightly, allowing the thick, white fog to be pulled upwards into his nostrils from his mouth in tendrils, disappearing before Allen released it, dissipated, into an exhale.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Show off. “Are you asking why you’re talking to an Englishman in America or why a thirty year old man is wandering around Disneyland by himself?” He muttered sardonically, though he felt his pride dampen as he said it and wondered why he had said it at all.

“Wait, you’re here alone? I thought you must’ve come with your kid or something!” Allen laughed, but Arthur visibly deflated, his cheeks red and his eyes low. The Brit felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked over to see Allen smiling. “Hey, there’s nothin’ wrong with that! I’d come here more often if I could afford it.” 

Arthur stared at him curiously, eyes flicking down to his tattoo covered arms. “Really now?”

“Hell yeah!” Allen exclaimed. “Amusement parks are fun. They help get your mind off of things.” Allen brought the pen to his lips and for a moment, the two of them stood in silence. Arthur slyly peeked over at Allen to see the man staring off into New Orleans Square with a faraway look in his eyes, and for the first time in their conversation he wasn’t smiling. Despite his raw energy, in that moment, the man looked quite tired. His dark eyes were accentuated by a pair of dark circles, and he noticed that one of them might have been healing from a black eye. Arthur looked down at his hands and realized that he wasn’t the only one here with things they were running from. It made him feel less alone.

“I was bored, and desperately needed time outside of my flat. How about you?” 

Allen blinked, tilting his head to one side. “Hm?”

“Why are you here?” 

“Ohhh. I came with my bro and neice. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here, so I  figured why the hell not? And to be honest, I’m pretty glad I did.” He grinned over at him and Arthur snorted, though he could feel his stomach tighten and his cheeks burn.

“You blush a lot. Need a water or somethin’? It’s pretty warm out today.” 

“I do not. And I am very well hydrated, thank you.”

“Really? So does your face normally get this red talkin’ to people?”

“And what exactly are you getting at here?”

“I think you like me.” The cigarette fell to the floor and Arthur blinked at Allen with wide, saucer like eyes. 

“Pardon?”

“You think I’m cute.” When Arthur didn’t respond, Allen confidently kept going. “You’ve been checking me out this entire time. I’m smarter than I look.”

Arthur’s mouth hung open, empty with a retort that wasn’t there. Allen reached over and placed two fingers under Arthur’s chin, gently closing it. “It’s ok, I think you’re pretty fine yourself, toots. You looked lonely so I thought I’d come over and introduce myself.” His brown eyes bore into Arthur’s, and as the sunlight reflected against them Arthur saw hues of amber. “I’m hittin on ya, if you couldn’t tell.”

It was time for Arthur to respond. He was silent for a few more moments, biting the inside of his lip. His brain felt fuzzy. “Yes.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and quickly fumbled with his cigarettes and pulled a second one to his lips. Allen raised his eyebrows in a mixture of surprise and confusion, but almost obediently lifted his lighter to the end of Arthur’s cigarette and lit it for him once again. 

“To…?”

“Yes, I think you’re cute.” Arthur rolled his eyes, blowing out a thick cloud and turning his head to avoid another comment about his tendency to flush easily. “It isn’t everyday a handsome lad walks up and starts laying it on me so thickly. I’m flattered.” Arthur reached into the inside of his jacket and pulled out a wad of sticky notes and a pen, and it was Allen’s turn to stare incredulously as he quickly jotted 10 digits onto the surface. “Here.” He mumbled, folding the note and shoving it into Allen’s large hands. “And that better be the only one you’ve gotten today.”

After another moment of stunned silence Allen threw his hands up innocently and gave Arthur the widest smile he’d seen that day. From the side of his mouth, a missing tooth peeked out slyly and Arthur wondered what exactly he’d gotten himself into. 

“How does Disneyland sound for a first date?”

[sirandking]

i love the hs au u wrote and if u feel like following up on it can i just say that i would Appreciate it?

I’m so glad you enjoyed it!! bless xx

I’m pretty sure “following up on it” was supposed to mean “hey write a cute date/kiss scene”, not “hey, write a 4000-word backstory where Andrew has selective mutism and a crush on Neil and Neil has an intense hatred of Andrew and they’re both forced to work together on a school project,” so I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to learn that I went with the latter. Enjoy!!

(If you still want the cute date/kiss scene, feel free to ask! From this au)

Andrew hadn’t spoken a wordall day. When Cass had said goodbye to him on her way to work, he’d managed ashrug in her direction, but his usual goodbyegot stuck in his throat. He’d ignored Richard and Drake completely. Hisclasses, which were occasionally interesting enough to bother paying attentionto, were background noise as he stared at the cracks in his desk and the waterdroplets running down the window.

It wasn’t that the wordsweren’t there – despite him being a naturally non-talkative person – but thatthey couldn’t seem to make it out of his mouth. There was a dam at the pointwhere his lips met, or maybe at the back of his throat, and when it was shutthere was no way for the words to flow out.

It was frustrating. He hatedfeeling so out of control in his own body. He hated that he didn’t care.

He hated that it got himpartnered up with Neil Josten for his history summative.

“I can work just fine on myown,” Neil told the teacher, shifting his backpack over to a chair besideAndrew’s nonetheless. “Andrew can work with the demon possessing him.”

Andrew decided it was inaccurateto blame all of his problems on his uncooperative vocal cords. He was partneredup with Neil Josten because the two of them both had a habit of pissing off theirclassmates, and because Andrew was too intimidating for the teacher to feelcomfortable partnering him with anyone else.

It didn’t matter; the end resultwas the same. For the first time in two years, Andrew was forced to interactwith Neil Josten. In any other circumstance, if he were any other person, hemight see it as an opportunity. For Andrew, it would only be a curse. NeilJosten was a good thing, and Andrew rarely got to have good things without somesort of consequence.

The last words Neil hadspoken to him still rattled around his head from time to time, mocking himabout what happened when he stepped too far out of his lane.

Don’t ever come near me again.

It’s not my fault, Andrew thought, like thosewords had ever saved him before.

“…get this over with,” Neilwas saying. Andrew tuned back in out of instinct, because his body had neverlistened when his brain said something was a bad idea. It didn’t help thatNeil’s voice was the exact right mix of soft and rough to set Andrew’s bones onfire. “I know you’re a fucked-up asshole, but the least you could do is try topull your weight.”

What happened to working just fine on your own,Andrew almost said, but the words stayed trapped.

“What? You’re not even goingto bother with a ‘fuck off’?” Neil said. “I’m offended.”

Don’t think you’re special, Andrew thought. MaybeNeil would be telepathic. It would be typical of something like Neil, to beable to see into Andrew’s head and pick out all his secrets. He almost hatedNeil for it already.

Almost.

“Whatever. I’m not going topull your weight. As long as I can scrape by with a 50, I’m happy.” Neil kickedthe leg of his desk and slumped down in his chair, fiddling with a strap on hisbackpack. It was the same worn-out backpack he’d been using when Andrew hadseen him for the first time two years ago.

They passed the rest of theperiod in silence. Neil was gone the second the bell rang.

He felt prepared, the nextday, as he walked from his third-floor psychology classroom to history, to facethe maelstrom of Neil Josten. He had gone to visit Bee after school the daybefore and she’d given him a cup of hot chocolate and a collection of businesscards that he had systematically burned as soon as he’d gotten home. The fog inhis head had thinned – possibly from Bee, possibly from the extra two hours ofsleep he’d gotten, possibly for an entirely different reason, but thinnednonetheless.

He sat down at his desk,dropped his backpack on the floor without taking anything out, and traced thecrack in his desk, ready to ignore everything that Neil did.

Neil walked into history andAndrew’s stomach turned itself inside out.

Andrew did his best to forcethe feeling down as Neil slumped down in the chair beside him. It was a gutresponse to a pretty face – nothing that meant anything. He wasn’t let downthat Neil was resolutely ignoring him; he had never expected anything from Neilin the first place.

He busied himself with kickingthe metal leg of his desk. Neil was tugging at the fraying hem of his hoodiesleeve.

The teacher walked by andtold them that if they didn’t at least try to work together, they would bothget zeros.

“It’s good to know you atleast care about not failing,” Neil said, watching Andrew heave a textbook outof his backpack.

“I don’t care,” Andrew said,shivering against the word. He didn’t, but he also didn’t care to stay in highschool any longer than he had to. It was all cost and benefit.

Neil frowned at him and he wonderedif it was the first time Neil had heard him speak in two years.

He cracked open his textbookbefore he could delve any deeper into that thought and picked up where he’dleft off, at the advantages of the American air force in the First World War.

Neil scowled and moved toopen his book to the same page, but Andrew shook his head.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “I’mtelling Rutherford at the end of the period that we’ll be working on our own.”

Neil froze halfway throughflipping a page. “You – why?” he asked.

“You told me in explicitterms that I was not welcome anywhere near you. I assume that applies to groupprojects as well.”

“It – it does,” Neil said,frustration and disbelief written in every line of his face. “I didn’t thinkyou’d bother.”

Andrew felt a dark wave crashover him, and reminded himself Neil had no reason to believe any different. “Idon’t break my word,” he said.

“Right,” Neil said, notsounding right at all, and pulled his own textbook out of his bag.

Andrew turned back to his owntextbook, flipping the page at regular intervals and trying to avoid the feelingof Neil’s eyes on him. He didn’t take in any of the words – history was aboutas interesting to him right then as sandpaper. He could feel Neil start to saysomething, heard the intake of breath, but Neil only closed his mouth andshifted away.

Ten minutes later, he turnedabruptly towards Andrew. “You didn’t promise anything, though.”

Andrew took a second tobreathe before he looked up at Neil.

“I told you to leave mealone. You never promised you’d actually do it.”

Andrew blinked at Neil. “Doyou want to stop working together or not?”

“Of course,” Neil saidimmediately. “You’re a creep.”

“Clearly,” Andrew said, andthat was the last that either of them spoke.

In the end, it only took fiveminutes to convince the teacher to let Andrew and Neil work separately. Andrewhad a reputation that Neil didn’t, for all his sharp words and piercing glares,and it seemed that even teachers didn’t want to get on his bad side.

Despite that, he didn’t evenget a day of peace and quiet. Neil marched up to Andrew Friday morning beforeclass and slammed his hand against the wall.

“I don’t get you.”

Andrew shoved his coat intohis locker before turning to meet Neil’s frustrated glare.

“At first I thought you were hereto spy on me, but you’re not,” Neil continued. He was still holding onto thestrap of his backpack with one hand. Andrew wondered whether he ever let go ofit; in over two years, he’d never seen Neil without it.

“Have you never consideredboring old curiosity about the new kid?”

“Curiosity about the new kiddoesn’t have you breaking into the office and stealing files,” Neil retorted.“You haven’t done that for anyone else.”

Deep breaths, Andrew thought. “Maybe Iwanted to see what kind of new kid would jump to a conclusion like spying whenhe heard someone was looking into him.”

Neil clenched his jaw. Hiseyes darted over Andrew’s face; Andrew had the impression of being interrogatedby a colony of ants.

“They say you’ve gotten inover a hundred fights,” Neil said. His face was unreadable. “I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t think I’ve pissedoff that many people?”

“You don’t seem like the typeto beat people up for no reason. You don’t care, right?”

Andrew couldn’t stopsomething from flickering across his face; he could only hope it was too fastfor Neil to catch it. “I hate you,” he said, coming out just shy of the truth.

“But you haven’t beaten meup.”

“Do you want me to?” He wasalready imagining a thousand different ways he could put Neil on the ground.Disconcertingly few of them involved punching.

Neil ran a hand through hishair in frustration. “I want you to make sense,” he said. “I can’t figure youout. I hate it.”

“Now you know how I feel,”Andrew said, shutting his locker. He moved to leave for class, but Neil grabbedhim arm. Andrew couldn’t hide his flinch, and Neil let go like he was on fire.

For a minute they just stood,Andrew staring at Neil and Neil staring at Andrew’s arm. Andrew had no ideawhat Neil was thinking, except that it was something Andrew wanted nothing todo with. He did not have the time or the energy to play mind games with Neil.Not when he knew how it would end.

Because Neil was a goodthing, and Andrew was not the kind of person who got to keep good things.

“I’ll figure you out,” Neilfinally said. “Myself, if you won’t help me. And I’ll let you know when I do.”

“I look forward to it,”Andrew said, and wondered how self-destructive he would have to be to betelling the truth.

Neil didn’t speak to Andrewat all the next week. He was silent during history, he avoided all the placesAndrew usually frequented, and he pointedly turned away every time Andrewlooked in his direction.

It would be perfect, exceptthat Neil still wouldn’t leave him alone.

When Andrew caught his eyesin history on Monday, Neil turned away, but Andrew felt his eyes at the side ofhis head the second he looked back out the window. He didn’t see Neil at all ashe ate lunch in the library on Tuesday, but he could feel the shivers down hisspine that meant someone was watching him. He thought he caught Neil hidingbehind a tree as he walked home on Wednesday, but by the time he’d crossed thestreet to investigate, no one was there.

It was frustrating, it wasinfuriating, and Andrew wanted it to stop.

Drake had left on Tuesday forbasic training in Oklahoma, and would be gone for at least four months. Andrewhad spent Monday night camped out beside a public library, and snuck back intothe house at 4 am so that he would be ready in the morning to say goodbye. Withone furious look behind Cass’s back, Drake had driven away.

Where euphoria might havebeen, Andrew only felt apathy. He had too many doubts circling his head to feelany kind of freedom. Andrew had never been the kind of person who could be freeof people like Drake; it was only a matter of time. He could feel the knowledgecreeping through his skin, digging at his heart, draining his energy.

He spoke four words onWednesday: good morning and good night. The fog in his headthickened, coating everything in dull grey. On Thursday, he could barely lifthis arms to get out of bed.

On Friday, he got up in themiddle of English and walked out the door.

Bee was standing at her deskwhen Andrew walked in, shuffling through some papers. She looked up when heapproached and smiled. Andrew didn’t know how something so genuine could lookso out-of-place.

“Andrew!” she said. “Iseverything okay?”

Andrew stared at her for amoment and then shook his head.

Bee scrunched her eyebrows inconcern. “Would you like to join me for a cup of hot chocolate?”

Andrew’s gaze dropped to theempty chairs. He’d come to Bee on instinct, knowing that if he thought about itat all he would talk himself out of it. Imagining a formal session with Beeturned his stomach.

He must have been silent fortoo long, because Bee added, “I was just about to deliver some posters aroundto some of the other teachers. Would you care to join me?”

Andrew shrugged at the chairs.

“Thank you. Would you like meto make you some hot chocolate before we go?”

Andrew nodded, so Bee pulledout a tin of hot chocolate mix and the good milk and handed them to Andrew. Shepicked up the pile of posters and they walked out of the office, past a doorreading guidance, and into theteacher’s lounge, where there was a scattering of mismatched mugs and a dirtymicrowave.

Bee pulled out one of thecleaner mugs and spooned some hot chocolate mix into it, and then poured themilk in and stirred it all together. She stuck it in the microwave for twominutes and then picked up the milk and held it up.

“I’ll just return this to myoffice,” she said. “I’ll be back in one minute.”

When Bee returned andAndrew’s hot chocolate was done, they set off in the direction of the scienceclassrooms.

“This first posters are goingto Mr. Rodriguez,” Bee explained. “He’ll distribute them to the rest of thescience department. Would you like to look at one?”

Andrew moved his hotchocolate to his right hand and held out his left. Bee deposited one of theposters into his palm.

STOP CYBER BULLYING, theposter read, over a list of suggestions for what to do if you were beingcyber-bullied. Andrew handed it back to Bee, and she took it without comment andtucked it neatly back into her pile.

Bee continued to chatter onwhile they walked, about her new poster initiative and a new cookbook she hadgotten from her sister and a chocolate bar she thought Andrew should try.Andrew didn’t respond to any of it, just let the gentle lilt of her voice washover him and focused on breathing in and out in time with their footsteps.

As they left the math officeand headed down the hallway, the hurried sound of footsteps caught up to them.Andrew recognized their pattern and tensed.

“Andrew!” a voice called.

Andrew moved to keep walking,but Bee’s voice prevented him.

“Andrew, aren’t you going tostop?” she asked. Andrew hated the concern in her voice.

He clenched his jaw andturned around.

Neil stood a few yards downthe hallway, his face twisted in indecision. He was panting slightly, stillclutching the strap of his backpack, apparently having run from his calculusclass. Andrew scowled at him, but it had the opposite effect as what he wanted;Neil straightened up under his glare and held his chin up defiantly.

“Can I talk to you?” heasked.

Andrew didn’t respond, so Beeturned towards him.

“Andrew?” she asked. “Wouldyou like me to leave so you can talk to your friend?”

Andrew tried to findsomething in Neil’s expression to suggest why he was choosing now to confrontAndrew, but there was nothing. If anything, Neil was as unsure about what hewas doing here as Andrew was.

Andrew handed his half-fullmug over to Bee, but she waved him off.

“Bring it to me afterschool,” she said. “You should finish it. We used the good milk, after all.”

She gave a parting wave and leftfor the arts office. Andrew watched her go so he wouldn’t have to look at Neil.

“So,” Neil said, aiming forconversational. “You’ve been in thirteen foster homes?”

Somehow the knowledge thatNeil had read his file surprised him less than he had expected. Andrew’s lifewas full of hypocrites; what was one more?

But Neil seemed to be waitingfor an answer, so Andrew did his best to translate what do you want now into a facial expression.

Neil had the decency to look away.“I don’t know why I did it,” he said, as if Andrew cared about excuses. As ifAndrew cared about him. “It’s not like I learned anything important. You get alot of suspensions, you moved here from two towns over, you make appointmentswith the guidance counselor nearly every week. It wasn’t anything I hadn’talready guessed.”

He paused, and Andrew watcheddoubt and revulsion and exhaustion war across his face. Whatever Neil wanted tosay, it was going to cost him a lot. Andrew wondered what it meant that Neil wasgoing to trust this with him, of all people.

“I just got frustrated with knowingnothing,” he said. The tortured look in his eyes was one Andrew was toofamiliar with. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being—”

There was something in theway he cut himself off that dug straight through Andrew’s chest. He smoothedout his face as much as possible, but the way Neil’s expression went dark toldhim he hadn’t succeeded.

Don’t project your own problems onto me, healmost said, or don’t you dare startthinking we have something in common, or maybe just don’t.

He grabbed Neil’s chin andforced it to the side so that he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore, sothat he wouldn’t have to hear the word hanging unspoken in the air between them.Neil accepted it, but it didn’t deter him from talking.

“I’m not making excuses,” hesaid, and Andrew nearly laughed, because ofcourse. “I don’t regret it. And I’m not going to stop figuring you out. Ijust want to know if we’re even.”

It was such an unexpectedrequest that Andrew instinctively moved to deny it. His pettiness agreed,arguing that there was a lot more to it than just going through each other’sfiles. Neil had hated Andrew for two years even after Andrew had bothered toexplain himself; that shouldn’t be swept under the rug.

But Andrew had done worse toNeil than Neil had to Andrew. Neil shouldn’t have needed to ask Andrew if theywere even: Neil was the one who decided. Andrew hated that Neil had evenbothered to consider Andrew’s side of the equation.

He nodded.

He nodded and Neil relaxed,as if he’d been afraid of Andrew’s answer.

Andrew couldn’t stand him.

“Are we partners again,then?” Neil asked. At Andrew’s frown, he explained, “For history. That was theonly reason we weren’t working together, right?”

It felt like anoversimplification, like a test, but Andrew had no room to argue. Something wasbugging at him, something he knew was still wrong, but he was so out-of-sortsfrom the whole conversation that he couldn’t figure out what it was.

He shrugged.

“Okay,” Neil said. “Then I’llsee you tomorrow.”

As Neil left, the naggingsensation in Andrew’s stomach intensified. He examined his mug of hotchocolate, now cold, as if that would help, and reviewed the conversation fromevery angle he could think of.

It took him a few minutes,but then he froze, glaring at his mug as if it was the one that had screwed up.He looked down the hallway where Neil had disappeared and then at the open doorto the math office. He made a choice.

Neil was just past the edgeof school property when Andrew caught up with him. He whirled at Andrew’sapproach and then relaxed, tensed, and forcibly relaxed again.

“Did you forget something?”he asked, aiming for nonchalant, but Andrew could hear the defensiveness.

Andrew placed Bee’s mug onthe ground and held out a piece of paper, folded messily in half. Neil glancedat it and then at Andrew in confusion. When he reached out a hand to take it,Andrew grabbed his hand and shoved the paper into his palm. He forced Neil’sfingers closed and pushed his hand away.

Neil dropped his gaze to unfurlthe paper and read the words that Andrew had written, and his frown deepened. Hesearched Andrew’s face like he could pry Andrew’s secrets out of the cracks inhis skin, but Andrew had plastered over them long before Neil had gotten there.

Neil slung his backpack tothe ground and dropped to his knees, rifling through it. He pulled out a redmarker and scribbled something on the paper.

While Neil was writing, Andrew’sattention caught on something in his backpack. It wasn’t much, just a bulge inthe seam, but it reminded Andrew of the same shape in Drake’s bag where foryears he had hidden a handgun. Andrew slotted that information next to all therest of the tidbits about Neil Josten – his worn-out clothes, his dyed hair,his constant flightiness – and wondered if he was wrong in classifying Neil asa good thing. Wondered if the universe counted Neil on the same level asAndrew: broken, forgotten, left at the mercy of the shadows and the dark.

He refused to think about it.He took the paper back from Neil, barely took the time to read it, and thencrumpled it into a ball and shoved it into his pocket to shred when he gothome.

Neil accepted that at facevalue and left with a two-finger salute. Andrew forced himself to turn aroundand head back towards Bee’s office.

As he walked, he set hiswhole mind on fire trying to burn away the memory of the words on the page,trying to burn away the twisted, strangled emotion that came with it. Not hope,never hope, but maybe its neglected, malnourished cousin.

His hand clenched around the crumplededges on the note. He didn’t realize he had even reached into his pocket.

Truth for a truth, the note read, in spikeyblack ink. People like us will always benothing.

The first part was circled.Underneath, in dark red marker, was a single word:

Deal

[svttrashdump-blog]

Jisoo woke up next to Seungcheol. As usual. Seungcheol had an arm holding him protectively in place, except it felt more like a heavy weight over his chest. His mark was throbbing. He was reminded of last night where his heart had began working before his head, and he'd almost gone and done things he absolutely should not have. He gently removed Seungcheol's arm off him and got up, examining himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked awful. Dark, tired rings around his eyes. They no longer held that childlike sparkle to them from back when he first met Seungcheol. They were dull with grief and a need to escape the reality he was stuck in. He lifted up his shirt and examined his mark. It was slightly red and irritated, but nothing more. Thankfully. Every moment in his life was a guessing game for Jisoo. Which Seungcheol would he see now? An angry, snappy Seungcheol? A violent Seungcheol? A sweet, caring Seungcheol? A pitiful, apologetic Seungcheol? Jisoo sighed, putting his head in his hands. This was all growing to be too much to handle. One of these days, he was going to break. And he felt like it would happen soon. Mingyu groaned. It was too early in the morning for him to be awake. And on a weekend, too. But the birds were practically screaming through his window so he was forced to get up. It was then that last night's events tumbled down into his fogged up brain. Jisoo. Even though Mingyu had made a resolve to help Jisoo, he had no idea how. It's not like he could just destroy the system, right? It was all wishful thinking. He looked to his left to find the framed photo of him and Wonwoo on his bedside table. His mark throbbed again. What was he planning to do last night? Jisoo's face flashed in his mind. His eyes sparkling with tears. His trembling breath. His parted lips. Mingyu stood up, trying to snap out of it. Enough. Since it was the weekend, he had the whole day to himself. He ought to make use of it. So, he took a walk outside. The morning air was slightly chilly as he stepped out and headed down the sidewalk. About a block down the road he spotted someone vaguely familiar. After racking his brain he realized it was Jeonghan, the person Junhui was enamored with. And next to Jeonghan was a man. They were hand in hand, strolling down the street. Mingyu's eyes widened. Surely-no, this couldn't be Jeonghan's partner. Jeonghan was in a relationship with Junhui, the secretary wouldn't have accepted his friend if he was already in a relationship. But then the unnamed stranger took Jeonghan and kissed him right then and there. Jeonghan smiled and wrapped his arms around the man's neck to deepen the kiss. A few people shot them looks for being so public, but otherwise it was left unmentioned. Mingyu gaped at the sight as he watched them turn a corner and disappear. So then...was this person cheating? The consequences were huge and Mingyu felt compelled to let Junhui know. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to fall for a cheater. Though Junhui was still unmarked so he wouldn't get in any trouble if they were caught. But nonetheless. He returned home after his so called walk and texted Junhui, asking if he knew about this. A moment later he received a reply. "Yes." Mingyu nearly dropped his phone in surprise. Another message came through. "But it doesn't matter." "What are you talking about? This is serious!" Mingyu responded urgently. "I'm helping him. He needs someone that really loves him. That guy he's with doesn't." "What do you mean?" "The person he's with only pretends to love him. It was a business marriage. No love." "I saw them kiss." "It's all for show." Mingyu groaned, running his hand through his hair. "That doesn't excuse the fact that it's cheating! If he gets caught, you know what will happen!" "I'll protect him. I'll find a way." Stubborn as always. Mingyu gave up, texting him a quick "good luck" before putting his phone down. Junhui made it seem so easy. The guy had always been pretty nonchalant about things, not really caring about consequences. Mingyu wished he could say the same. Unfortunately, he himself was more of a law abiding do gooder that knew no wrongs. What would it be like if he decided to break the rules for once? Jisoo sighed, sinking into his work chair after finishing his paperwork. Seungcheol sat down next to him, arms crossed. "Done?" Jisoo nodded. "That's my share of the work today." "Then can you leave?" Jisoo shook his head. "My shift ends at 5, I can't leave before then." "Why not?" "U-um, company rules..." Seungcheol stood up, looking more than slightly pissed off. "We'll see about that." He trudged away, heading to the front office where the department head was situated. Jisoo really hoped the head would reject his demands, because the workplace was his only sanctuary, the one place where he felt safeguarded by the public eye. Seungcheol couldn't do anything to him, at least not much, while they were here. He fidgeted in his chair, resisting the urge to get up and go to Mingyu's work space. The last thing he wanted was to elicit an even more vicious Seungcheol. As minute by minute ticked by, Jisoo finally gained the courage to get up and take tentative steps to where Mingyu was. Not too close, just enough so he could spot the head of hair that stood out due to the extreme height of his. Jisoo felt his nerves on end, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure Seungcheol hadn't returned. Mingyu's back was towards him, his clumsy fingers prying apart a file with difficulty. Jisoo smiled. He was itching to fill that empty chair next to Mingyu and help him out. He took a couple more steps. One more. Another. A bead of sweat broke out on his forehead and he hastily wiped it away. He was close enough that he could see the folds of fabric straining on Mingyu's shirt due to his broad back and arms. Then it was like his intuition kicked in and Jisoo whirled around, backtracking speedily. He made it back to his chair just as Seungcheol appeared, looking even more enraged. "This place is a joke," he spat. "Can't even let a good worker leave early." Jisoo sat there, unsure what to say. Seungcheol gave him a cross look. "Why are you even working here?" Jisoo gulped. "W-well, the pay's good...the workload is pretty standard..and the commute is ideal..." Seungcheol shook his head. "No, we need to find someplace better for you. Not this shitpile." He grabbed Jisoo's arm. "We're leaving." "Wh-what? You can't-" "Yes I can. We're leaving." Jisoo protested weakly before the grip on his arm tightened painfully and he whimpered, giving up. Seungcheol dragged him past Mingyu's desk. At that moment Mingyu looked up and caught Jisoo's eyes. Time seemed to slow down for a moment as he read Jisoo's expression and glanced at the rough way he was being forced along with his parter. It's not even time to clock out yet, why are they both leaving? Jisoo looked scared as well... Mingyu pulled out his phone and texted Jisoo. "Everything ok?" About an hour or so later he received a reply. "Yes. Please don't text me anymore." Mingyu raised his eyebrows. Well that sure as hell didn't make it seem like everything was okay. Despite the latter's message he continued. "Why? Please tell me if something's wrong, we can meet up if necessary." This time the text was returned instantly. "Stay away from me." And then. "I'm sorry." [You have been blocked] Mingyu nearly broke his phone in half with how tightly he gripped it. What the fuck is going on? And now he couldn't message Jisoo either. He slammed his phone against his desk, earning curious looks from his coworkers. Exhaling heavily, he shoved the rest of his paperwork into a folder, not in the mood to finish anymore. "Jun," he said, approaching the male. "Can I ask you something?" Junhui looked up. "Yeah?" "You said Jeonghan was in a loveless marriage or something. How did you find out?" Junhui leaned back in his chair. "Easy. I got to know Jeonghan a bit better. I had to be a bit pushy at first, flirted a lot. Alcohol also helps, people spill a ton of shit when they're drunk off their asses. Anywho, one night we were drinking and he told me. I suggested we go home together and bam." He sighed, closing his eyes. "Why do you ask?" "It's um...about Jisoo. I think his partner's a bit...physically aggressive to him." "So like, abusive?" "I guess..." Junhui glanced at his watch. "Wanna leave early? It's already 4, I bet an hour or so won't make a big deal." "But-" "Sh, come on. It's hard to talk about this shit while I'm surrounded by lifeless drones working." He coerced Mingyu to follow him out the door, promising he wouldn't get fired for doing it just once. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed one to Mingyu. "Do you smoke?" Mingyu shook his head. "Tried it once, tasted like acid." "The good kind, though." Junhui lit the end of his cigar and inhaled, exhaling a long puff of smoke. "So, what're you planning to do with Jisoo?" Mingyu shrugged, looking down at his shoes as they strolled down the block. "His partner is very...assertive. I can't even get near Jisoo anymore." "You have a phone." "He blocked me." "Doesn't that mean he doesn't want you to interfere?" "Or that he's being forced to." Junhui nodded. "Sharp. Well in that case, what more can you do? Let the poor guy deal with his lover. It's out of your control." Mingyu looked up. "Hey, have you ever wondered why this system exists in the first place? Marks and all that?" Junhui snorted. "To make loving someone even harder than it already is, I guess. But, look at it this way. Currently, Korea has the lowest divorce and remarriage rate of any country in the world. It's our shining medal of honor." "And our only medal of honor." "Exactly. We needed to redeem ourselves and put us back into the global picture. How? Well, by exploiting the citizens and doing something as drastic and extreme as this." Mingyu whistled. "You almost sounded smart for a second." Junhui elbowed him. "Brat." The pair kept walking until they reached a detour in the road. "Well, gotta go. See you later, and don't give up," Junhui said, flashing him a thumbs up as he turned left and down the street. Mingyu shoved his hands into his pockets, not really feeling an urge to return to his empty home. He headed to a bar, turning down any people who flirted with him with a simple "I'm marked" as he sat alone at a table with one glass of wine. He hadn't touched it yet, just staring at his phone as he reread his short lived exchange with Jisoo. Mingyu wanted to see him. After a long time, he noticed he'd been at the bar for nearly 3 hours and the bartender was giving him an odd look over the counter. He got up, leaving his untouched drink on the table as he exited the place. As he began heading back, he was struck by an idea. If Jisoo wouldn't come to him, he would just have to go to Jisoo. He whipped out his phone. He still had Jisoo's address saved in his GPS history back when he gave the latter directions. He took a taxi and ended up at Jisoo's tiny house. He headed to the back of the building, unsure what to do. He peered in through the back window, quite aware of how creepy he would look to anyone passing by. It was then that he realized he was looking into a kitchen, and that Jisoo was at the stove, seemingly cooking. Mingyu gulped as he realized Jisoo was only wearing an oversized t-shirt that just reached his upper thighs. Mingyu edged towards the back door of the house and knocked softly, wondering what Jisoo would do when he realized Mingyu had basically stalked him to his house. The back door opened with a tiny creak and Jisoo's eyes widened as he took in Mingyu's sudden appearance. Jisoo looked over his shoulder, then stepped outside, closing the door behind him. "What're you doing here?" Jisoo asked tensely. Mingyu sighed. "You texted me saying to stay away from you and then blocked me. I want an explanation." Jisoo frowned. "I could report you for harassment, you know." "And will you?" Mingyu challenged. Jisoo looked up at him. "Why does what I do bother you, anyway?" "Because it bothers me how you seem to be treated like shit by your partner, that's why." A gust of wind passed by them and Jisoo shivered, dressed as lightly as he was. "Seungcheol's asleep right now so come in. Keep your voice down though." He opened the door and let Mingyu enter. "Have you eaten?" Mingyu realized he was starving, it'd been hours since he'd had lunch. "No, actually. Food sounds good right now." Jisoo looked back at the stovetop. "My cooking skills aren't nearly as good as yours, but I made dinner." He pulled out a plate and handed it to Mingyu. "Help yourself. I'm going to go check on Seungcheol real quick." Mingyu tasted a bit of Jisoo's stir fry and was impressed. It wasn't bad at all. The guy should give himself more credit. He took a large serving and chowed down as Jisoo returned, this time wearing shorts. Which meant he hadn't been wearing anything beneath the shirt earlier. Mingyu tried to fight the stirring feeling in his gut at the thought. "I gave Seungcheol a sleeping pill. He'll be gone for a couple hours," Jisoo mumbled, leaning against the counter. Mingyu put his cleared plate down. "Okay, so can we talk now? I need to understand what's going on between you and him." Jisoo sighed, moving to the living room and sinking onto the couch, turning on the TV. "It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Mingyu followed him onto the couch, his brows furrowed. "Why are you avoiding the subject?" "Because it's not that big of a deal. Sorry if I worried you or something," Jisoo said, eyes trained on the television in front of him. Mingyu ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You came knocking on the door of my house in the middle of the night and started crying because of him, and now you say it's not a big deal? Make up your mind, will you?" Jisoo looked down at his hands. "Even if I tell you, you can't do anything about it. I want to be free, but I can't. I can't, Mingyu." Mingyu shifted closer so that their legs were now touching as he tried looking Jisoo in the eyes. "You're the one who opened my eyes about how unfair this world is. Don't tell me you're backing out on it now." Jisoo's shoulders slumped halfheartedly. "I just...realized there's no point. At times I wonder if I should just join the countless others in the center of the town square and die for love like they did." He looked at Mingyu, eyes bleak and dour. "Seungcheol...he changed a lot. He hurts me sometimes. He loves me sometimes. He yells, he begs, he cries, he hits, he's demanding and he wants me all for himself. I can't interact with anybody. I can't be myself anymore. I can't live anymore." Mingyu felt his chest tighten at those words. Even moreso when he saw Jisoo's eyes shining like a clear lake on a still evening. "Die for love..." Mingyu repeated. "Are you willing to go that far?" Jisoo smiled weakly. "I don't know, are you?" He reached a hand out and placed it over Mingyu's chest, grazing his shirt with his palm. Mingyu placed his own hand on top of Jisoo's, keeping it firmly over his chest. "Yeah, I am." And maybe it was the way Jisoo's eyes glinted, or the way his lips curved upwards as if beckoning Mingyu to taste them. The kiss burned, it was like ice and fire all at once. Jisoo's lips melted onto Mingyu's, trembling slightly at the feeling. Mingyu's other arm snaked over the small of Jisoo's back and yanked him closer, straddling him on his lap as the distance closed between them. Jisoo moaned against him as Mingyu's hands ran up and down his back, sending shudders down his spine. He held onto Mingyu's shoulder with his free hand. The hand on Mingyu's chest intwined with Mingyu's fingers and their bodies were now pressed together, heartbeats in sync. Jisoo was the one to break it off first, panting as he looked into Mingyu's eyes. Mingyu was breathing trepidously too, still processing what just happened. "Shit...that wasn't supposed to happen..." Jisoo mumbled breathlessly. "Mingyu..." "You wanted it though, didn't you?" Mingyu responded, his mark burning and burning against his chest like it had been lit on fire. Jisoo let out a shaky breath, a small smile on his lips. "That I can't deny." He placed his hand over his heart, where his mark was located. "Ouch." "Yeah, I guess it's warning us..." Mingyu sighed, already yearning for Jisoo's lips again. It was all so dangerous. Everything they were doing was utterly inappropriate. But one look at Jisoo and he felt swept away. The feeling terrified him yet intrigued him at the same time. "You should leave," Jisoo said, clearing his throat as he stood up. "It's...safer this way." Mingyu rose to his feet. "Can I ask you one last question?" Jisoo nodded, fidgeting restlessly. "What are your feelings towards me?" Jisoo stilled, his face growing a shade rosier. "Not something either of us should be proud of." "So I take it you like me then?" "You said one last question, Mingyu." Despite Jisoo's efforts to remain stern, the redness in his face gave everything away. Mingyu grinned. "Alright, alright. See you tomorrow at work then?" Jisoo's face grew troubled for a moment before smoothing down. "Yes, see you tomorrow." However, the next day, Jisoo was nowhere to be found.

[tomaschronosart]

I can remember writing a story about a cackle of hyenas whom were mindlessly roaming The Unending Desert, from memory I had depicted them as these anthropomorphic creatures – nearly human enough to recall. I was in Mrs. Dyer's class, so grade 6. I remember how calm and confident I felt doing this particular task, it seemed like I knew how to flow and tap into some source from the get go.The feeling of calm comfortability was very rare for me. Mrs. Dyer played the entire class a song and requested we create a narrative based on our initial thoughts, feelings and reactions to the song. As a kid with a bed time, I mostly just passed out from exhaustion, instead of actually going to sleep… I would lie awake every night, wired, manic and fearful. I began writing stories in my head early on in an attempt to soothe and channel my chronic anxieties.. I had constructed the usual traumatized-child-fantasy-universe – a safe place where I could manifest the perception of control. I never minded sleeplessness, as it created an apt environment for cognitive free-running, I adjusted. My fantastical bedtime stories were vanilla, from memory.. drug cartels, mercenary adventures in the jungle, sci-fi opera journeys and sometimes just a regular old adventure where me and mine would acquire some kind of drug or person or thing. For a long time, I had an obsession with unearthing new control techniques to quench the thirst of my firmly embedded insomnia - I had stock-standard/methodical/repetitive stories that would take 2-3 ours to ‘create n complete’. If there was a satisfying and coherent beginning, middle and an end to te story, I could sleep. Nights were always hardest and darkest for me – I have no idea how old I was when my sleep hygiene began deteriorating. And though, sleeplessness was uncomfortable and I was never keen on being tired – After doing the reading recovery program, I could finally read, so I was quick to pick up the –read-in-bed- habit. I began hearing other peoples stories, a welcome change. if I was feeling particularly flowy, I’d organize one of my card collections. I would try to master some new drawing technique... but I could sit behind a computer for 18-24 hours straight and ride the wave playing some puzzle or anything else repetitive enough to numb my mind. I remember how icy cold I’d get during winter - how blue my hands would become after hours of sitting stationary at my desk.. I would leave my window open throughout the night to keep the computer cool, it lagged if it overheated. I used to think that if I didn’t pay any attention to the cold, I would not feel the cold. Before I was 10, I had not come across any one thing that transfixed me. I had not yet become addicted to anything yet, I think? – that is until Puzzle Pirates!!! Shit, when that fucker came into the picture.. well, I no longer gave a shit about anything but Puzzle pirates. I could not cope with the disconnection, exile and the incessant bullying I copped from my peers. The frustrated messes waiting for me at home were suckin down durries, grog and sugar as hungrily as the machines cha-chinning for their money at the pub. I still am heeding these calls I am too tired to remember. I am still sweeping the dust away from these things I cant forget. At times, I miss the calm comfortability of not needing drugs; I miss the warmth that seeped away whilst roaming the waking world; I miss my Lunar lover, who would speak to me in dreams/ through dreams i could See through, cast away, be at ease. I hold on Tightly- still, To whatever vice’ll’suffice. seeming to soothe and appease the beast / my early coping strategies of hermitage and avoidance, protect me from momentum Games and story telling and art replication – I wanted to draw cartoon characters, as I was exposed to their stories more than my own peoples. I can still remember the countless hours, days and weeks of social isolation and voiceless anxiety. Sugar – one of the quickest ways to soothe my boiling baby brain. I keep thinking of the root of this addiction as a loss or lack of social belonging , or maybe I am lamenting another warped perception of my self .. I remember that I was so emotive and empathic and open but also unregulated, neglected and full of painful confusion. I forget that I still am. I felt so damn old all the time. I remember the sunshine splattering through the windows, onto the dashboard of mums old Ford Laser. We were doing one of our usual trips to Warrandyte for her housekeeping job with then Heffernans. I remember looking out over the balcony at the rear of their place, taking in the kilometers of bush and possibility. I black out their olympic size swimming pool - i nearly drowned in it a few times. While I was peering out across the sky,I was fretting over forgetting how I came to be standing there. I did not understand how I forgot- I remembered the sunshine On my face, So I knew, I had gotten there, though I could not remember how. I wanted to be a boy. I was a boy. I became a girl, as expected. , football was a medium, a bridge for the repressed masculinity – I didn't like to exercise, I did not want to be made of aware of my breathing, bleeding bio sac. my body was unimportant and sickly and tired and stressed and depressed, chronically– I reflect now and see how maladaptive a depressive I am. Always, wanting to escape the confines of the very thing I want to inhabit and realize? //// ah!!! the system that creates its own dependence, to substantiate its usage of the finite well, shall never recognize its own self-destructive carelessness. For having ignored the infinite well, the system, as it stands, shall fall. And that well that never runs dry? Well, I always forget about it. I use everything I have ever touched// to coin a collection of concepts Only I can comprehend. But, this is making it easier. I can see a bit clearer now. I can ease into the next step, less weary than before. But why? The further away I wander, the more susceptible I am to rot. In time, these things will return … and of my soul? My soul shall ache and pupate once more, Forlorn, I remember///! how I forgot – to start, To stop. And who's justifications am I leaning towards now? My deep dwelling fears and my leering observations are erratic, Unsustainable, Confusing. THE MAD ARM OF THE Y – an obstruction arises along the path creating the crossroads of forever, Two new paths, the same old path. I am alone, finally – at peace. At ease, with my failures, for now. No mirror I stumble upon can stave off my stare, Why should they? to see through what I can only see when I Stop, start and Refresh is my responsibility. I am so sorry, that I show A me that thinks it can have something It is not worthy of. Give me nothing and give me everything - I have been in all of the wrong places. I know I think wrong, and that I have made it too hard on myself. I know these revelations have been a long time coming but- I sat there and I remembered, It is to me and to me alone that I must consort with. I seek council amongst my memories and I find shelter in my solitude. These flickering unrealities I thought were gone - Pls, just hold onto the everlasting, Try, bust through space and time and just- Breathe. My desire for my true end has faded, I see life again, manifest. The 10,000 directions in front of me, the Myriad forever, the calf of endless suffering howls my name so doggardly. And change and change and change And grow and grow and grow, And that's all u r doing and that's all U can do. individualism is not the thing That u share with me, nor I with u. I remembered just now, that Id like to talk with u and, Share space. How I miss fixing shit with you. How u and me, we used to sit in the park and heal our aching thoughts- Work'd be done and the day was forever- and the thoughts would come, and go. And I miss it cause it kept me closer to my people – for when I speak amongst my kin, I am Home and full hearted – But I lost all my chill, I lost all my capitol, frankly. Then - it snow balled, as it always does. I feel I have been too sad to be a friend, too fucked to really feel love, I fear I am to scattered to comprehend my responsibilities And I’m too damn lonely to ask for help. And so what? Now what? Just keepin up with the fuckin fog is hard enough, I know I just gotta slow down and risk a bit of pain and ease into warmth and trust that its true. My silence has done me a disservice. My love for u, eternally/ Evergrateful / be am me, For all is as it could be. Chained to nought but my fears, Lovingly I say to u, from the mouth of Beth Ditto, “If everything u do has a hole in it, then everything u do has a hold on me, I been here before I should be used to this, But I can't take it no more, I can't take it no more, no oooo, Ooooooooo ooooooo ooooo,” (And to me I always sing:) “Yr mangled hrt, yr bitter love that's hangin onto memories, Ur lettin go of everything that ussed to be, U build me up to let Me down…” And from the channels of me, I wonder, what am I releasing? Capitulating with comrades, A sparrow new found – tiny and fragile, Like glass, Rock hard and clear/ transparent but, still. It is shattered Spraying and sputtering nuggets of raw energy. Crack and singe, whatever mind of mine is waning by the wayside. Moments of forever, Of the eternal calm of belonging- Jan Cadman’s Kyneton property, We’s just yabbies in the dam. / I think I can see, I wanna chill, like when I was there. As conceited as I can be- some people I never need to feel again. Thin ice, let me drown. My neck is under deep, it's me and me alone that keeps quiet. I've been drowning, again, like always. I just got sick from telling people.. Only I can save me, I forgot, I forgot.