#like man. i spend so long clawing on to make it out of the pit of seasonal depression so i can be better and happier

[glitteratti]

ok actually i hate living like this for real. whatever.

[hobicakess]

LATE NIGHTS| J.HS

The best way to make the night's end is spending them with Hoseok.

A/N: mwah thank you sm for 1k !!!!! ik I have so many things to write- seven , rc 2 , and request to write but im trying babes please bare with me so here's a thot from your bestie <33

ᥫ᭡. daddy kink , black coded reader , plus-sized reader in mind , very self-indulgent , sub reader , dom hobi , mating press , rawdogging [wrap your willy] , clit slapping, tummy bulge , breeding if you squint , squrting, reader has a fat ma!! , barley edited [I hope I got it all]

The two of you always stood together as you did your separate skin care routines, though yours was a bit more complicated than his, tying your hair up so it wouldn’t be a mess in the morning and finding him laid back in bed waiting for you.

Then, somehow, someway you end up dragged towards the edge of the bed by your thick thighs bottom half hanging off the edge.

One leg pushed back behind your ear, the other over hiked high above Hoseoks shoulder as his skilled slim hip rut against you. Bullying his way inside your walls. Nights like this he took his time, playing with your clit with his slender veiny fingers, watching you take every inch you feel it deep in the pits of your stomach, the bulge of his cock imprinted in your tummy.

He loved watching your fat brown pussy lips get coated in cream and cum from his and yours previous orgasms. You take him like a champ, squealing when he pinched your pink swollen clit when your eyes closed.

"Come on baby, look at Daddy." He cooed, slapping your tit that spilled from your tank top. You cry and cry for him watching him slide in himself through you with ease. The soft jingle of the anklet he bought you ringing in his ear and the pretty french tipped toes that he paid for.

He'd push your other leg back behind your ear as he leaned down and kissed you sloppy your tongues intertwining, as he pounded right onto your love spot. You both pull away with a long line of spit your fingernails scratching and clawing at his back as your stomach dips and your legs quiver. Hoseok loves it when your getting ready to cum, you get more verbal and nasty. "Fuckin' me s'good daddy"

Hoseok made pretty noises groaning and huffing letting you know that your making him feel like the luckiest man in the world with the way you grip onto him.

"Gonna make me cum on again baby" he hissed, as you tighten around him liquid spilling from you as you let out a string of curses and dirty words. So slippery he popped out of you shooting over your stomach inner thighs and cunt.

You both panted loud coming down from your highs laying in the sticky mess. You'll clean it up in the morning.

[prismaticpichu]

Picture this: Seph winning Zack a plushie that he was staring at in the rigged claw machine. It’s too cute I can’t—

AHHHHH THE FEEELS 😭 BRILLIANT MIND! ❤️

~~~

“You want one, don’t you?”

It was hardly even a question: Zack had been staring at the box of plushies for over forty-five seconds now, an obvious longing in the bright blue eyes that Sephiroth knew took every ounce of his willpower to bridle. Well-played by the diner, to have a claw machine placed strategically in the corner of their restaurant. It was practically magnetism—an irresistible force aimed to draw in youthful, innocent, somewhat-impulsive spirits. And conveniently for them, Zack fit perfectly into that bill.

Sephiroth wiped away his smirk as Zack turned back towards him.

“…Maaaaybe,” Zack admitted sheepishly, but the kind of sheepishness that told Sephiroth he was still comfortable confessing such a thing. A playful smile brightened his lips. “Can I borrow some Gil?”

Sephiroth scoffed, not harshly. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah!” Zack chirped. “I want that Elfadunk!”

Sephiroth cast a brief glance towards the machine—and, oh, there it was. Nestled between a cluster of other monsters was indeed a small, felty, beady-eyed Elfadunk turned on its side against the glass. Turned on its side, so it could of course be in perfect position to maximize its allure—a tantalizing treasure with big beady eyes that was gazing right back at them.

Oh Gaia.

“Soooooo….” Zack blinked. “Can I have a coin?”

“You don’t need it.” Sephiroth cut another piece of his food.

“But it’s so cute!” Zack continued, like it was the most sound reasoning he could give. “Pleeease Seph? I lost my wallet again.”

Ignoring the implication that he was going to have to pay for both of their meals—and the concerning addition of “again”—Sephiroth put a hand over his eyes, unable to help himself from rippling with quiet, amused chuckles at the sheer stupidity of what it was Zack wanted to do. Zack, a SOLDIER First Class, one of the best in the military, wanting nothing more than to win a stuffed creature that he could put on his bed and cuddle with and most likely name. It truly was stupid.

But, he supposed…. it was the precious kind of stupidity. The irreplaceable kind. No one else in his life would dare ask to borrow money so they could spend it on a cheap arcade game. No one else would even dare bring him to a place where such a thing would even exist. No one would even dream of it. No one would have the heart to.

Shaking his head, Sephiroth reached into his pocket and slid a shiny gold coin across the table.

“There,” he said, peeling his hand away from his eyes. “Go wild, my friend.”

Zack’s face exploded with glee. “Aww man! Thanks, bud! You’re the best!”

The smile lingered on Sephiroth’s lips as he watched Zack zip across the room and over to the game. He watched him insert the coin, watched as the machine came to life. Watched as he skillfully maneuvered the claw over the respective spot he wanted—just where the tip of the Elfadunk’s trunk poked through. Watched as he pressed the button, as the claw descended, as it grasped the trunk, as it pulled it out, as he maneuvered it back to the little pit and—

Dropped it.

Sephiroth frowned, a full and deep crease on his lips. What on Gaia was that? He had the plushie—right there. He had done the hard part—the skillful part—had accurately hovered the claw in the exact spot that it needed to be in order to get the toy he desired. He had it. The claw had a firm grasp on it.

So why on GAIA did it drop it?

Sephiroth frowned, rising from the booth and making his way over.

Zack looked utterly deflated as he stared at the plushie—mere feet away from the pit where he needed to drop it.

“No dice,” he said sadly, glancing up at the warrior and shaking his head in defeat. “Oh well. Guess it was fun to—what are ya doing, Seph?”

Steely, determined, Sephiroth remained silent as he inserted another coin into the machine and watched the mocking beads of illumination come alight. Eyes fixated on the Elfadunk, Sephiroth maneuvered the claw until its shadow stretched over the toy. Double-checked all angles to make sure it would grasp it.

He pressed the button, and watched the claw descend.

Down. Down. Down.

The claw fell over the toy.

The claw closed.

And the claw ascended.

…

…

…

With nothing in its grasp.

Sephiroth remained silent for several beats, motionless. Blank. Well—blank, that was, until his vacuous expression slowly morphed into a sharp, indignant glare at the toy still sitting pretty amid the other plushies. A glare slow powerful that one would think the glass would melt away under its heat. A glare that little saw, and little would like to see. A glare reserved for only the most horrible, treacherous, unbearably vexing complexes in the world.

…..What?? WHAT?

Was the claw made of grease? Was the claw made of GREASE? What kind of nonsense was this…..?!

Zack stared again at the Elfadunk, a whole new wave of defeat crashing over his face. “Aww man…” he said, before turning his attention back to the General. “That was so close, bud. Thanks for trying.”

Sephiroth gazed at the boy’s face for a moment—at the disappointment in his eyes against the bustling backdrop of the diner, at the slight wobble to his smile that told him he really wasn’t smiling much at all. It was a look of sorrow, a look of sadness. And Sephiroth’s heart twisted taut.

He… had let Zack down. He had just wanted to get him the plushie when he had so rightfully deserved it. And he had failed. He had failed his best friend.

….No.

He wouldn’t fail a friend. Not now. Never again.

Sephiroth whipped his head back towards the claw machine, the green eyes narrowing to daggers.

This… this was personal now.

And that’s how every eye in the restaurant became fixated on the incredulous sight of General Sephiroth spending dozens of Gil on a old-timey claw machine. Waiters stopped in their paths, customers stopped eating their food. Sure, people were starstruck when the man first walked in; but that star had exploded into a supernova, and no one could look away.

Not that Sephiroth cared.

Up, down, the claw went.

Up. Down.

Up. Down.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Up. Down.

Up. Down.

Up—

And, finally, it happened.

It happened.

Sephiroth watched with unwavering intensity as the claw went down for the 21st time, as it grasped around the toy. As those metal fingers cupped around the plushie’s body, as those metal fingers closed. As those metal fingers cupped around the toy and closed and began lifting the elusive Elfadunk into the air. As those metal fingers cupped around the toy and closed and began lifting the elusive Elfadunk into the air and—

Dropped it.

…

…

…

Into the pit.

The diner erupted into a tempest of applause. People cheered, roared, high-fiving one another and waving their napkins. It was a sight to behold, truly—bigger than any recent sports victory in the city, a concourse of triumph and joy and domination.

But Sephiroth didn’t hear a single one of them, didn’t hear a single clap or shout. His mind was too focused on something else.

Sephiroth practically sank to his knees as he lowered to the belly of the machine and reached in to grab the plushie. It felt like touching a ghost, as his fingers grazed the real, tangible, uncaged felt before him. He withdrew the plushie from the machine with a swell in his heart—and a swell that only grew bigger as he saw the sheer joy on Zack’s face as he handed him the toy.

“You did it, Seph! You did it! You actually did it!” Zack hugged the toy against his chest, squeezing it with asphyxiating strength. “Thank you thank you thank you I love you so much!” And, suddenly, it wasn’t the toy that Zack was throttling anymore as he raced forward, and gave his friend a monstrous, grateful hug.

Sephiroth didn’t miss a beat. He wound his own arms around the boy in turn, his joy contagious and the man’s pockets empty, embracing his closest friend with the Elfadunk like glue between them, neither wanting to let go.

“Awwwwwwwwwww,” the diner harmonized.

Sephiroth’s cheeks flared coral as he realized—very sharply—that they were indeed still in public.

Well, ok. He let go then.

———

The Elfadunk was later christened Fidelis, a foreign translation of “loyalty” (Zack Moogle-searched it). Fidelis was slept with every night—and became quite iconic around Midgar. Even more iconic was the newspaper-captured story of General Sephiroth spending all his pocket change for his lieutenant. “Generous Sephiroth” some SOLDIERs would call him—a nickname that Zack adored but Sephiroth would quite frankly want burned to the ground. But what did any of that matter, anyway? Zack was happy that day.

Which meant Sephiroth was too <3

[gravehags]

someone more talented than me needs to write this, so i'm begging: copia/aurora first kiss. (i may have put this in your inbox before, i can't remember.)

more talented than you?? you are way too kind to me omg…i’ll give it a shot though 🩵

~~~

He’s hesitant to perform the summoning at all, to replace his beloved Sunshine but when he finishes the ritual and sees her he is immediately smitten. She’s hunched over, long hair hanging in her face and looks up at him with a snarl. Cumulus and Cirrus grab her as she lunges at him, hissing and spitting and flailing her limbs in a desperate attempt to claw at the man who brought her here. They whisk her away to the ghoul den before he can even say another word but the look on his face must be a sight as Swiss claps him on the bicep and gives him an exaggerated wink.

Despite her feral arrival, she acclimates astonishingly well to life outside of the pit. She’s cautious around him at first - all darting eyes and tense shoulders - but when he tells her one of his signature stupid little jokes one day her face splits into the widest, sharpest smile he’s ever seen. The sight makes his heart clench as he’s filled with adoration for the tiny ghoulette. They begin to spend more time around one another in rehearsals and he loves the way her voice sounds alongside his. He wonders if she feels the same when he catches her blushing after they finish the final verse of Per Aspera Ad Inferi. Cumulus sees the writing on the wall and gives him two kisses on the cheek before airily announcing her departure, leaving him alone with his as yet unnamed ghoulette. When the door to the rehearsal room snaps shut behind her, his eyes fly to hers and widen.

“You, eh…sounded beautiful today, my ghoulette,” Copia begins, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs, “thank you.”

She smiles just wide enough for him to see her fangs peeking out.

“Am I your ghoulette, Papa?” she asks, all sweetness and softness. He wants to fall to his knees for her, tell her than in actuality he is hers, just as he has professed to all of his other ghouls.

“Of course you are, cara,” he nods and she takes a step towards him, making his breath stutter in his throat.

“Papa?”

“Y-yes?”

“I think I’ve decided on my name. Dewdrop told me about something called an aurora borealis that looks like bright lights in the night sky. So I choose that - Aurora, that is.”

“Oh,” Copia sighs with a smile, “perfetto. As beautiful and rare as yourself.”

She takes another step towards him, rocking forward onto her toes.

“Papa?”

“Yes, my g—Aurora?”

Her new name is softer on his lips than he intended and the ever-sharp ghoulette’s ears prick up at this.

“The other ghouls…they’ve made advances towards me. Told me of their desires. And I reciprocate them, however…”

His throat is dry as he nods for her to continue.

“I want you most of all.”

She’s practically toe to toe with him now, looking up at him with wide eyes. He exhales heavy and when she reaches up with a small hand and runs her bright blue painted claws down the side of his face, he folds. He was never a strong man, anyway.

“Do you want me?” she asks, cocking her head to the side, her breath sliding over his lips.

“Sì…Sathanas yes.”

It’s all she needs before she pushes up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck, lips sliding over his own. Her kisses are fierce, hungry and he’s more than happy to let her take control. When their tongues begin to dance, her fangs teasing at his bottom lip he lets out a low moan and eagerly grabs her back to pull her closer. He’s not sure if she’s making those sweet little whimpers for his benefit but they make his pants tight and his head swim. When they finally separate, a thin string of their shared saliva joining them, she chuffs a little laugh into his chin.

“I wanted to kill you, you know. When you first summoned me.”

He chuckles, running a thumb along her jawline.

“And now, little Aurora?”

Her smile is positively vicious as she nuzzles into his touch.

“There are other deaths more suited to us, I think.”

He can’t help but agree.

[beauleifu]

heyy can u make a syntax x reader who dislikes insects when u open ur requests (Im writing this because I'll probably forget this idea 🙁)

like

"Wtf a huge spider dude💀??"

"Im not only a spider Im a INTELLIGENT spider."'

yea yea ofc! Syntax is literally getting so much fame right now im loving it <3 Roughly 4k oneshot, i got carried away lmao, enjoy!

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

SYNTAX X READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You, Mei, and MK had originally planned to spend the day at the Dragon Arcade by yourselves, and yet fate always has a different plan for you. And it never fails to drag in the things that make your skin crawl. Lucky for you, this spider isn't as scary as he looks - and he's got a knack for cheating arcades out of their stocks.

CW: None!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Almost . . . there!"

You and MK smoosh your faces against the glass covering as Mei, focusing with all her might, delicately lowers the crane and clamps the metal claws around a soft dragon plush.

Beads of sweat are actually visible on her face. "C'mon . . ."

"Oh! Oh! You got it! It's right there!" MK gasps, pressing his face even closer.

Your eyes grow starry. "Careful!"

Plop!

The plushie bounces into the winner's pit and the three of you let out a simultaneous shout of victory, jumping with your fists to the sky. Beaming, Mei fishes out the stuffed toy and holds it out, grinning proudly. It's green, with soft accents, a yellow, segmented belly, and curled white horns; you run your hand down it's back and confirm the softness you'd been expecting, your fingertips leaving off at the thin, spiked tail.

"God, it's even cuter in person," Mei gushes, squealing and hugging the animal close.

MK finger guns. "Well, considering it was just made for you . . ."

"We couldn't just let it sit there all alone," You finish.

The dragon-horse girl snickers, adjusting her back-pack so the plushie could sit within with it's head poking out. With that, she whips out another set of arcade coins and hands them out to you and MK.

"Now let's splurge somemore!"

And you do.

It's brilliant. The three of you had been saving up all fucking week for this, pushing aside assignments and meetings and gatherings because really, you all earned this.

MK and Mei needed a break, and you were willing to accompany them. What better place than the Dragon Arcade?

So for a good fifteen minutes, you parade through the arcade, testing out all the games and winning prizes in some. Your backpacks are slowly getting heavier with all the loot you're dragging in. Honestly, there's so much to do; Mei and you race on the motorbikes that connected to a large screen; MK and Mei have an epic air-hockey match that good ol' monkie man eventually won; and the three of you get brain freezes from drinking your Slurpee's too fast.

The chaos lasts for so long, in fact, that you barely register it's only been fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, after that time is up, you're plunged into a different scenario.

It happens while you're charging up to spin the Big Bass Wheel, something which you've never had much luck on. MK and Mei are currently attempting to secure a pair of headphones at the machine behind you, so they're occupied.

But tonight, you'll chance it.

Rolling up your sleeves, you take a breath, grasp the handle firmly, and push with all your might down south.

The wheel is forced into motion, becoming a blur as it spins.

You wait with baited breath, not expecting much, but the adrenaline from everything you've done tonight is getting to you, making you dare to hope . . .

Eyes wide, you watch as the arrow points . . .

To a hundred tickets.

"Not bad," You mutter, because it's honestly a solid victory. Normally, spins land you on something fifty tickets or lower.

A smile breaks your features, which are alight with the glow of a thousand arcade accents. The machine begins to spit out a stream of tickets, and you crouch to start collecting them. Mei and MK don't notice your victory, but they sure will when you insert the tickets into the counting machine.

Someone stops by the machine, hands in the pockets of their black tailcoat.

"Not bad."

Their voice is deep and accented, slightly nasal.

The glance you spare in their direction is too quick to properly collect any data, but you're smiling too damn hard. "Ha! That's exactly what I said. This never happens to me."' The glance you spare in their direction is too quick to properly collect any data, but you're smiling too damn hard. "Ha! That's exactly what I said. This never happens to me."

"Some say machines like this are rigged," the person continues, watching you roll up the tickets. "But I never believed them."

When the game spews out your final reward, you straighten.

"Honestly, same. I . . ."

But that's when you finally breach their features.

Your arms tighten instinctively around your prize as you lock eyes with green, dilated pupils. Slowly, you stare at the sharp green forelocks that curve around his forehead, at the lavender shade of whatever skin is visible through the coat he's wearing. You swallow dryly, seizing up.

"I-I gotta go."

The figure tilts his head, pencil mustache framing his mouth as he frowns. Eyebrows furrow as those same green eyes flash with realization, and he walks off without another word.

You're speed-walking to Mei and MK's station, utterly petrified.

You'd been frozen with fear, surprised that you'd been able to manage those few words of absence.

That was no ordinary man.

That was a spider demon, and it sent chills down your spine.

MK is the first to notice your distress, despite how aloof you try to make yourself appear when approaching them. "Yo, welcome back! Something happen?"

"No! No, I just want to go home, like, right now," you say firmly, heart still thumping hard.

Urgh. Spiders.

The dragon-horse girl snorts, glancing at her phone. "Uh, dude, it's only eleven. Why not camp a few more hours here? MK doesn't have work tomorrow because I literally begged Pigsy to finally give him a day off, which he never gets. Which, I'mma add again, is not normal for an employee, MK," she adds, eyebrows raised at her friend.

The Monkie Kid puffs a sigh. "I gotta make a living, right? Besides, that's not the point." He turns to you. "Why do you wanna leave?"

No guilt trip. No aggressive questions.

He's just curious.

It has your wall crumbling to dust, and you lean forward so you can whisper to them. "Look, I may or may not be deathly afraid of spiders and I just saw a fucking spider demon and I know you understand that, MK. He's literally right over there-"

You point in the general direction you saw the spider demon walk off in.

Mei looks over your shoulder, expression unconcerned. "He's still there, y'know. Look."

With that, she spins you around.

There he is, five machines down, his back towards the three of you. Now, you can clearly see his lime green hair, and purple skin peeking through the cuffs on his wrist, a defining feature of spider demons. You swallow nervously again, stiffening up like a statue. Mei clearly notices this, for she snorts again.

"Oh my God, you're just like MK! Dude's terrified of them."

You spare a glance at your friend, who looks equally uncomfortable at the news. But he meets your gaze nonetheless.

"Whaddya say to him?"

"Before I realized what he is? Oh, lots. But I couldn't say shit when I did realize so I just shot the hell out of there," you scoff, biting your lip guiltily. It was a bit rude of you, now that you think about it.

"Well, why don't you go talk to him?" Mei suggests.

Both you and MK turn on your friend with wide eyes. "WHAT?!"

Her hands shoot up in mock defense, smirking. "All right, I get it. You're afraid of the big bad spider. But 'shooting the hell out of there' sounds a bit careless. Poor guy's probably got the feeling that you hate his guts."

You gape at her. It's exactly what you were thinking.

"Whoa. That is a lot of emotions you got packed in there," MK wonders, peering around you with wide eyes.

"Oh my God, shut up."

He grins, albeit a little nervous, keeping a close eye on the spider demon in the distance. "Kay, I get it. But maaaaybe you should go apologize, at least? You owe him."

"He's a stranger," you huff.

"Okay, then you owe me," MK puffs, triumphant.

"What for!??"

The Monkie Kid flashes you a wink and a cheesy grin. "I'm not gonna say in front of Mei, but you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Oh.

You do.

It gets you red-faced with anger, despite Mei's curious look at both of you. Squeezing and un-squeezing your hands, you take a deep breath, glance at the lone spider demon, and back at your friends. They look encouraging enough. All right. You'll apologize. But then you'll get the hell out of there. Spider demons are no different from real spiders.

Without any real conviction, you sigh. "Hhhh. Fine, fine."

"We'll be right over here," Mei says mysteriously, draping an arm around MK's shoulder and edging away. She gestures dubiously behind her. "Call if you need us, kay?"

You eye her suspiciously. "Yeah, all right."

Then, you face the stranger.

He doesn't look up when you approach him, but you know he senses your arrival. Spiders always have a strange sense. Urgh.

When you're three feet away, you cough. "Um. Hi."

The dude is currently playing Pac-Man, lavender fingers gripping the rubber rod while his other hand presses the keys. He's focused, but not entirely, as though bored by whatever antics the machine extends to entertain him. You're honestly curious behind his motives for playing, which is the sole reason you draw an inch closer.

A flash of green, and his eyes are suddenly locked on your figure, narrowed in speculation. You freeze for a moment, holding your breath. But then, his attention returns to the game.

Okay.

So technically, this means you're not unwelcome.

"Pretty dated for a techy-looking guy," you venture, clearing your throat. "Pac-Man, I mean."

He doesn't look up, expression obstructed by the lock of green hair in his face. You consider backing out, even going so far as to look around for an escape rout - but then you see two idiots spying on you from behind an arcade machine a distance away. Your two idiots.

Mei and MK give you a thumbs up.

You grit your teeth, eyes wide to indicate your distress and frustration, but the two reply with smug smiles.

Oh, those two-

A burst of noise distracts you from glaring at them.

Blinking, you turn your attention to the ticket dispenser for the Pac-Man machine, which is currently spewing tickets at an alarming rate. With an equally astonished gaze, you look up to the spider demon, catching the flash of pride in his eyes.

What. Had. He. Done.

How does one even attain tickets from a game like this? And that many? That's got to be at least two hundred-

The spider demon moves on to the next game, tickets collected.

You gape.

"Wha- how did you- wait, nevermind, I'm not here to oggle-"

Composing yourself, you tag along with a newfound curiosity, watching the man zone into another game, eyes laser focused on the screen.

Or so it seems.

He suddenly glances at you again. "Ah. You're still here?"

"Did you break that game just then?"

You can't help those words, they tumble from your throat like traitorous ropes of doom. They tether you to the ground, making any escape rout an impossibility. But the spider demon is unphased by your question. He doesn't even take offense, merely treats your curiosity as one would a child's wild fantasies.

"No. I hacked it."

Simple. Straight to the point.

It snaps you back to reality, that you still have to apologize, because two idiots made you do it and you really do feel sorry. You'd caught that look he'd given you earlier.

Like he gets that reaction a lot, and he's tired of it.

You could say something stupid and do something equally so, like lean jauntily against the other arcade game and say, "Come here often?"

Thankfully, you're not.

You just clear your throat awkwardly, which is close enough. "Were you surprised, then, when I spun that wheel?"

"Yes. You can't breach the mechanism of a wheel electronically."

You have a funny feeling 'you' meant 'him'.

"Huh."

He pauses. "Come here to pass more judgement, then?"

The simply accusation lays bare on your guilt and you fiddle with your jacket, sorely reminded of the look he gave you. You spare a glance at your friends, who're thankfully still positioned by the arcade game. Heads bounce up and down in nods of encouragement, and some of your strength returns. Sure, he's a spider demon. But he looks somewhat human, so maybe this can work.

"Sorry," you mutter, eyes on the floor. "I didn't mean to be rude back there. You just startled me."

"You weren't startled by my approach," he says, sounding expectant.

"Your appearance startled me," you amend.

Something lights up in his eyes, something that says 'ah, there it is'. A flicker of a smile flashes across his face before his eyes dart up to meet yours and the look is gone, replaced with indifference.

"Does it have something to do with my reputation?"

His words resonate within you, sparking curiosity. What reputation? "Ah- no. I'm just not very fond of spiders."

He seems to notice you didn't include spider demons.

"Well, then, it seems we are at an impasse. I came here to indulge in the many bargains the Dragon Arcade has to offer, yet it seems my company is unwanted."

You blink, looking up.

"Oh! Not unwanted, per say, I didn't come here to make you leave-"

The words grow still on your tongue when you catch the look in his eyes. Something that tells you this stranger is joking with you.

Huh.

Maybe this can work.

"Ticket-trader is gonna be real suspicious about your haul," you venture, glancing south to eye the spider demon's ticket stash, strands peeking out from under his coat. The man regards you with an unbothered expression, absently messing around with the arcade game.

"Is it safe for me to say I'm suspicious about your sudden shift in behavior? You're afraid of spiders, yes?"

You swallow, shrugging politely. "Yeah, fair point."

He nods, expecting your reply. What you don't see is that he's whipped out a mechanical device on his wrist and is tapping away, hacking into the arcade game at hand.

In a moment, your left leg is suddenly hit with a spray of tickets.

"Whoa!" You gasp, recoiling.

Another pile of bounty, probably 200 strong, tickets flowing well past your angles. And the dude just rolls it all up like it's nothing, stashing the rolls away once he's done with them. You can't help but stare at this stranger who's taken your breath away in more ways than one.

But then . . .

You spare a glance at Mei and MK.

At where they once were.

Your heart, surprisingly, doesn't stop when you notice their absence. Instead, it opens up a new opportunity, one that has you whipping out your phone to sent your friends a text.

[Feel free to head back without me, I might be awhile.]

Then, you turn to the spider demon stuffing tickets in his coat.

"You're going to put this place out of business if you keep this up," you joke half-heartedly, shuffling awkwardly on your feet.

The spider demon shrugs. "Everyone has to make a living somehow."

"True. You could be doing worse."

"Very true."

You bite your lip, not liking the dead end this conversation is headed in. With a small gesture of the shoulder, you bite your lip. "Why don't you spare the arcade the trouble and spend your time bowling? There's a bowling center on the upper level not to far from here."

A pause, as the man collects his haul of tickets. You wait with baited breath, palms sweating.

Suddenly, he locks eyes with you. "Are you hinting your eagerness to continue this conversation, then? Over a round of bowling?"

Some part of you wants to say it. Say no.

He's a stranger.

Even worse, he's a spider demon.

You can still walk out of this unscathed, you can walk away right now-

But your feet don't move, and the words never leave your mouth. Instead, you further your offer with a dubious shrug. "I'll pay," you say politely. "I'd like to apologize, anyways."

"You already have."

"If it's okay . . . you never actually accepted it," you say, smiling.

At that, the man's eyebrows shoot up, and the tiniest of smiles tilts his lips upwards. Just slightly.

"Fair enough."

~~~

One bowling round later and two cups of grape juice, you're at it again with the largest, heaviest bowling ball the staff has to offer.

Your companion, a deadly spider demon, eyes your prize warily.

"The medium fit you best."

"And where's the fun in that? You said you were a scientist once," you fire back - albeit generously merciful with the mirth (he's a stranger, after all); "Don't scientists love to experiment?"

Said scientist cocks a brow. "If a scientist knew what worked best, they'd stick with that, not try something new."

"This is bowling. It's different."

With that, you lug the ball forwards, eyes on the stack of pins at the end of the runway. Your target. Your unaware and innocent victims.

You take aim, and fire.

The ball is so fucking heavy that you have to roll it, merely giving the object a good, hard shove. Standing up, you eagerly watch the ball snail its way down the path, veering left.

And it promptly falls into the gutter, the true dead end.

You turn to find the spider demon's eyes boring into yours; he'd totally expected that.

"That's a turkey."

"Let's see you do better," you dare to say.

He merely shrugs, brushing past you as you flop down on the couch. Everyone else had vacated the bowling area - possibly the whole Arcade, as it's currently 2am and not everyone ignores their sleep schedule like the plague. Since this guy hasn't complained, you feel he's in the same boat as you. Partying till you drop.

Where Mei and MK are, you don't know. But they'd sent to texts a minute after you told them the news.

[GOOD LUCK! But why a spider demon??]

[IF YOU DIE CAN I HAVE YOUR T-SHIRTS WITH THE PRINTS]

MK and Mei, your idiots who you'd literally die for.

You're going to kill them.

With kindness.

Maybe.

Smiling to yourself, you watch the spider demon carefully select a bowling ball, slip three fingers into the holes, and approach the bowling lane. Eyebrows knotted, mouth in a tight frown, he takes aim and swings the ball off down the lane.

It slides with speed and grace, something you're seeing quite often in your rounds of playing with him.

Strike.

You look up at the score.

10 points added to his already 200 strong score.

You sigh.

"Do you play bowling often, or are you just a natural?"

"Why? Seeking a trainer? Is that why you stalked me like the plague?" He says indifferently, but you catch the underlying tease in his tone.

It has you smiling. "I won't waste my time."

"Ah, I see. You're still afraid of me."

"Why would I be? You've proven yourself to be something of human descent, although I still haven't figured you out yet," you hum.

He blinks. "Something?"

"Someone, I meant some- Oh, for God's sake, it's my turn and you know what I meant," you scoff, tempted to elbow past your companion, but you refuse. Despite your demeanor, you really do want him to accept your apology, which you've tried and tested again and again.

He flashes you a shark-like grin. "That readable, am I?"

"Yes," you say, nodding. Picking up a random bowling ball, you walk backwards to the bowling lane, eyes on him. "For this, at least. You still won't tell me how you came to be such a purple-clad demon."

The scientist frowns. "You do realize backstories are normally saved for people invested in extending a relationship, yes?"

"Aren't I, with the bowling?"

You toss the ball.

The man sidles up to you, both your eyes on the prize as it rolls down the lane. He knows you're joking. That you've amended to respect his personal space and not pry, but messing around is just something you can't resist. Funny how you've eased iup so well around him - and vice versa (he's smiled twice).

"I would've chosen something other than bowling," he ventures.

"Like . . ?"

"That would mean meeting up again."

You regard him with a deadpan look, eyebrows shooting up. "Once again, I'm not that worried about you suddenly spinning me into a web and devouring me inside-out anymore, okay? Whaddya have in mind?"

That same smirk is your reply. "My, my. What a sad little human you are, to stoop so low as to associate with your deepest phobia."

"I have worser phobias."

"Worser isn't a word."

"My friends use it all the time, and the more something is repeated the truer it becomes," you retort.

The spider demon meets your gaze coolly. "Oh? Those 'friends' who spied on you for fifteen minutes before succumbing to boredom and vacating the premises?"

"They were protecting me," you say, voice softening.

He snorts - actually snorts-, and the sound is astonishing to hear. "Well, then you should be very grateful."

"Yeah, they're pretty fun."

You hadn't even realized you'd gotten a strike. All you did was observe the spider demon's hand movements and attempt to mimic it. Maybe you really do need a trainer.

The scores finalize, ending the second round with your companion as the victor. Really, there was no competition; this guy's a natural.

"Good game," you say suddenly, glancing at the time.

2:30am.

The scientist follows suit, glancing to the stairs. "Agreed. Shall we?"

"Sure."

Damn, and you were having so much fun. Talking with a stranger really helped you loosen up, and it seemed like he'd had the same benefits. The both of you travel down to the lower level of the arcade, talking all the while. The only people who are left besides you two are the arcade employees, cleaning up after messes made by friends and family.

At the end of your journey, the two of you are standing outside the Dragon Arcade, looking out towards traffic. Thank the stars you'd driven here in your own vehicle or you'd have a hard time getting back home.

You could always ask dearly demonic spider at your heel, but that's a possibility for another time.

Facing him, you offer a smile. "That was fun."

"Indeed."

You eye his indifferent features, his own gaze directed ahead of you, on the cars passing by. A slight frown takes hold of you. "I just realized. You never actually accepted my apology."

Brilliant green eyes lock on yours, and the spider demon offers a wry smile. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"Sorry, I'm terrible at taking hints."

A lie, sure.

But you sort of wanted to hear him say it, to soothe the ache of anxiety in your chest. Something your companion seems to realize, too, as he straightens after a pause.

"Well. Apology accepted."

Your smile returns with a will. "See? Wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Don't overdo it," he grunts, avoiding eye contact.

"Gotcha. Well, I'll see you later, then," you say, stepping backwards, as if this is your cue to leave. And perhaps it is; there's no reason for you to stay in the cold, standing for nothing with this stranger. "Drive safe, yeah?"

He nods, making no move to his car. If he'd brought one at all. "You as well."

You turn around, keys in hand.

Along with it, a slip of paper you'd forgotten to give the man during your bowling rendezvous. It almost slips from your grasp to join the wind blowing by, but you catch it quickly.

This paper.

That man. You hadn't even gotten his name.

You're halfway to your vehicle when you suddenly spin around and sprint back the way you came. You spot him walking in the opposite direction and cry out.

"Wait!"

He spins around.

Oh, how the tables have turned. Now it's his turned to be startled.

You skid to a halt in front of him, puffing out short, uneven breaths. Weakly, you grasp his hand. "Sorry, I just . . . I-I never got your name!"

A long, striking pause.

The man clears his throat. "You wish to know my name?"

You peek up at him, still breathless.

"If that's okay?"

After another slight pause, the scientist rubs the back of his neck rather than look at you. "I don't see why not. You can call me Syntax. And what of yours?"

"Um . . . I'm (Y/N)."

Your breaths mix in a cloud of adrenaline and calm, peace within the storm. Syntax smiles warmly. "A pleasure, darling."

Darling, darling, darling.

Your face catches fire, body going quite still.

Then you're turning away before he, before Syntax can question it further. "N-Nice to meet you! Bye now! Drive save! Goodbye see you later!"

And you're running, grinning like an idiot, towards your car.

He's gone by the time you turn around, breathless at the driver's door. But you're content with the knowledge that you'd squished that small slip of paper into the palm of his hand, your name and phone number scrawled in pen on the surface. He'd caught it, he'd read it (on the roof of some distant building), and fifteen minutes later, you get a text from an anonymous sender.

[Remind me to thank your friends for the headphones they forgot at the claw machine.]

Oh, you just know you're going to love this guy.

[Will do, Syntax]

[cassiopeiagarcia]

For @j-ofspades

For so long, I have waited So long that I almost became Just a stoic statue, fit for nobody And I don't wanna get in your way But I finally think I can say That the vicious cycle was over The moment you smiled at me

───⋆☆─────────────

There had been a kiss. One after which Cass had spent the entire evening observing Vessel. Studying him, his every move, every time the tone of his voice changed, since she couldn't see his expressions at all. Cautious, tentative, ignoring the butterflies that seemed to have made a home out of the pit of her stomach, looking at him like one would at something they were considering buying, but had to spend a considerable amount of money in.

It hadn't been weird. Quite the opposite; it had been a visceral reaction on his part, something he had clearly not planned and that had just... it had been like the movement of a hungry, venomous serpent, coiled up and waiting for any prey to come by.

She should have expected it. She had been asking for it. It had, also, been the only thing on her mind ever since he had changed his full-length mask for that one revealing the lower half of his face. His lips. More of that skin painted in black, that sometimes, if the day was warm or if he had returned from a particularly physically extenuating game, she could really see...

Oh, she was not a religious woman, but if she had been, to kiss Vessel would have been in her prayers time and time again. Or maybe, not. Because Gods were capricious beings and if one of Them would hear about her deepest wishes, maybe she wouldn't have the chance to make them come true.

And yet, when it had happened, she had been unable to react. She had not responded at all, continuing with what she was doing; dancing. While her body twirled, twisted and turned, her mind did the exact same thing, unable to form words or perform any act other than just. Dancing. Like the artistic allegory danse macabre, that simple act had served as a reminder about how frail their lives truly were, especially here, and the vanity of the glories of life on Earth. What were really important were things such as... a kiss.

Which was the reason why Cass was standing out of Vessel's room, hand clenched in the shape of a fist, arm raised in almost defiance.

She wanted to kiss him again, until their mouths were sore of moving together, until their fingers hurt from grasping the other person so tightly, of digging like claws. But she was also scared to death. Falling in love in a place in which you could die every night? What kind of life was that? What kind of love?

When she had asked Hérc about it, however, his answer had been extremely simple: How is that different from the normal world? You could get hit by a car, have an accident... And he was right. Of course he was. Only children and drunk people told the truth, or so the saying went.

So she knocked on the door, not willing to grieve what could have been. Counted the seconds until it opened. If Vessel was surprised to see her, he didn't reveal it. How could he, when his face was constantly hidden? Did he not realize that it didn't matter if he didn't reveal how he looked like, if he didn't like people to see him, that feelings spilled out of him before he could stop them... as it happened with her?

There were no words. No questions asked. Just pale arms thrown around the masked man's neck and the sound of lips clashing, the taste of paint.

Love.

[levicanpunchme]

Levi X Reader

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst (kinda)

Prompt: You feel Levi drifting away from you and it’s killing you to not know why he has pushed you away. As you approach his room that night, you throw away your morality to have him by your side.

It was the smooth curve of his pink lips against his blindingly white teeth which made your mouth run dry. His raven hair was uneven, strands falling against his eyelids like a low curtain, obstructing some of his vision; it was very unlike Levi as you had never seen him unkept. There was a dull void in his gaze, his lips downturned and thin as if they were stitched together.

Your heart sank lower in the pits of your stomach, the longing brewing inside you, aching to spill over like a raging storm. His hollow gaze made you shrink as if it was physically harming you. You found it hard to keep a straight face whilst his stern demeanour ate at you.

A mere footsteps and you would reach him yet why did the distance seem so large now?

“Why’re you here?” His words were spiteful but the crack in his brittle voice betrayed him.

He seemed offended immediately as he lowered his pinning gaze. His biceps contracted and he rubbed the back of neck, his eyes squinting exhaustedly. What did you do to deserve such treatment? You had realised as soon as you spent some time with him that no matter how indifferent Levi acted, beneath his stern exterior, he was a softhearted, kind man. He proved it a thousand times over.

You stared at his lowered head, your chest aching in despair. Levi, who met your gaze so passionately was now refusing to raise his head as if he was silently punishing you. When did it turn this way? Why did he suddenly look past you as if you were invisible?

His presence had comforted your heart, gave every passing day a meaning. And then to have it tore down, snatched away from you as if it was never real. He cut you off a week ago, spending time with other squad members. To add to that, he changed his timings for patrolling and cleaning duties, which proved your suspicions correct because initially he was the one who had manipulated your schedule in a way where you performed all duties beside him.

He was hell bent on ignoring your existence and you had absolutely no idea what caused this cruelty to rise to surface.

“Why’re you ignoring me?” You hesitantly voiced out, hating yourself for the tremble in your voice.

He gulped soundly, his adam’s apple bopping, making your insides warm. He still wouldn’t look up and it was starting to frustrate you.

“I’ve been busy,” his strained voice responded.

You felt your heart plummet. Busy? You already felt your lips tremble as anxiety clawed at your chest.

“I know that’s not true,” you muttered.

He glanced up for a moment and you swear you caught a subtle hint of grief in his silver eyes but it was probably a trickery of your desperate mind, as his eyes were back to blank holes of emptiness.

“Believe what you will.”

The careless tone made you flinch, your heart dropping lower than where it had been before. His sharp words and indifferent eyes were knives piercing into your soul.

He then looked away, his lips tightly sealed again. Rubbing the back of his neck, his hand found the pendant resting against his chest and he fumbled with the dangling semicircle; the semicircle that completed yours, forming a lovely hollow moon.

Your heart squeezed against your ribcage upon the sight of his half moon; the necklace he presented to you one day as a token of ‘good comradeship’. He had left it inside your jacket when you were training and you didn’t realise it until a few days later when he hesitantly asked you about it. Instead of telling him you never really checked your pockets, you sprinted to your room ecstatically, heart racing in excitement as you grabbed the jacket from the laundry room.

That day, you felt elevated into the sky, beyond everyone’s reach. It was a beautiful necklace he had specifically bought while thinking of you. You knew he only saw you as a fellow comrade, and friend at most, but in your heart, he was so much more than that.

Maybe, the only person you’ve ever loved.

Witnessing his long index finger run itself along the silver metal, softly gliding to the end corner where his semicircle ended and yours began made your head spin. The burning in your chest grew like wildfire as his fingers progressed upwards again, sliding against its pointed half with soft, loving strokes. His touch was sickeningly gentle, as if he was afraid to break its perfectly rigid exterior. You could almost hear the metal purr in pleasure as he rubbed it like it were his lover in a past life.

The fire erupting inside your body seemed to overwhelm your senses. Levi held the pendant with so much care while he couldn’t so much as spare you an explanation. Your body felt warmer as you watched him play around with the object, your chest constricting. Absentmindedly, you stepped closer, your eyes trained on his fingers and the damn pendant, hoping your piercing gaze was enough to burn it down.

As you neared him, his body emanated heat, increasing the temperature in your flesh, which worked like an effective enzyme, catalysing the bubbling reaction within your blood. He paused, noticing your sudden movement, unaware of the fireworks exploding inside you. His grip was still taut against the necklace as he looked up, his eyes unreasonably dark.

You were already on the verge of insanity, but when you noticed how desirably dark his gaze had become, the last shred of self-control disintegrated. You were seething with hatred: his fingers were fondling an inanimate, piece of metal when they should’ve been gliding against your flesh, touching your skin. You wanted his gaze as dark as sin to stare at you, instead he gave the pendant that pleasure.

Disillusioned and desperate, you gripped the bloody pendent and yanked it off in burning detestation. An alarmed gasp flowed out of Levi’s mouth as he instinctively tried to grab it from your grip but you were agile, maybe because your squad leader was the humanity’s strongest solider who savagely killed all his opponents, in the blink of an eye; of course, he’d have taught you his extraordinary skills.

“What’re you-!” His words were cut off, his eyes growing in astonishment.

You aimed at nowhere in particular when you were throwing the pendant; however, it seemed to have accidentally flew out the open window directly behind Levi. You instantly regretted the impulsivity of your actions as you watched his face twist from shock to complete fury, his grey pupils dilating and his frown worsening as if a shadow was casted over his head.

The scorned expression made your hackles rise and you stepped back, your heart thundering against your chest. Before you could sprint out of his vicinity, this time, his agility came through and he pounced forward, grabbing you by the waist and pushing you till your back was slammed against the wall. Your gasp resounded in the four walls of his room. With one hand gripping your waist, he clenched your wrist with the other, eyeing you down like you were a prey caught in his chamber.

“What do you think you’re doing.” Despite the bubbling anger evident in his thunderous eyes, he still didn’t raise his voice. Your eyes softened, glistening at a memory from a few months ago: on a mission outside the walls, he had instructed you to stay close by but you had ventured off into the jungle to investigate a strange sound. So when Levi found you, his instinct was to shout in absolute fury. The aggressive tone brought you to tears and you had sobbed for an hour straight even after he apologised multiple times.

He remembered. He knew you like the back of his hand.

“Answer me,” He rasped, his words quiet yet demanding as if it was taking everything in him to maintain his calm. All that facade yet his body betrayed him: his face was flushed and his chest heaving, desperate low breaths.

“What?” You played dumb.

His grip tightened around your wrist. “That is mine,” he spat, his eyes narrowed.

You felt your chest swell. “How dare you hold onto that when you’ve thrown me away?” You felt tears building up in your eyes, your throat constricting in agony. There were words you wish you could say; things you wish you could tell him yet you kept your mouth shut. What if you lost all your chances after you confessed your heart to him?

Maybe if you cried out before him, he would pity you and stop ignoring you.

Your words seemed to have an impact as his face twisted in agony. He screwed his eyes shut.

You felt blind love overpower your senses and you pushed against him causing his steps to falter. “Levi, just tell me what’s wrong? How have I messed up? What do I do to fix it?” You begged.

You realised you were throwing away your morality and self respect as you pleaded before him, but it didn’t matter; nothing mattered as long as Levi opened his arms for you again. You would fall to your knees, begging for him to stay beside you if you had to.

Just as you were about to speak again, he turned his back. “There’s nothing to fix. Leave my room.”

Your body felt like it was going limp and there was darkness etching your vision. His cold hearted words were tearing you apart-yet here you stood, stubborn and shameless, still hoping he would change his mind.

“Why do you still keep that pendant?”

Please, Levi.

“I won’t, anymore.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

part 2 anyone? lemme know😼

[acewithapaintbrush]

For the writing starters, “I didn’t know where else to go” with Pepa and Bruno perhaps? :D

This is a long one. I threw in Felix as well, cause my man needs some love too. I imagine them all to be somewhere between 16-17 years old

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

"Pepa. Your weird brother is here."

Pepa, young and impulsive and with a protective streak a mile wide, bites her tongue until she can taste blood. She wants to tell Alecia to shut her trap, wants to kick Rico's shin for snickering like a donkey, wants to turn her back on this small group of teenagers that have big mouths but nothing to show for it, and never look back.

But Felix is part of that group. They are his friends and cousins (twice removed, but still!) and she likes him. Oh, she likes him so much. Her heart does a summersault every time she sees him and it's all she can do to keep the rainbow suppressed when he smiles at her.

They have talked once or twice, but today is the first day that he's invited her to hang out with him and his friends in that little clearing in the woods. She still doesn't know if he likes her that way, but the hope is like a beast in her chest, wild and untamed. She wants to make a good impression. She wants his friends to like her and she wants to be everything he could ever want in a girl.

But all she is right now is the sister of the village weirdo.

Pepa doesn't want to think like that. Bruno knows how important today is (he'd begged her to shut up about this 'date but maybe not date oh my, do you think it's a date?' just this morning). He wouldn't come here if it wasn't important.

But all the same, when her eyes find him hiding behind a tree, watching her and the others, a surprising amount of frustration within her bubbles to the surface and a small cloud gathers above her head. It's not solely his fault. She has been stressed for days about this meeting and now that she's here her anxiety doesn't get better but worse. She is analysing every look, every word. Is there a double meaning behind any of it? Was Felix' cousin laughing at her joke or laughing at her? Is Felix really looking at her with affection or is it just condescension?

She's never felt so insecure before and seeing her brother cowering behind a tree, the hood of his oversized ruana pulled up and into his face, doesn't help any. He looks like a wraith. He looks like the brujo they all accuse him of being, watching them from the shadows of the treeline, all creepy and stuff.

"What a freak." Osvaldo mutters.

"Hey!" It's Felix who snaps at him and if Pepa wasn't so embarrassed, she might have appreciated it more than she does. "Shut it, Oz!" He turns to Pepa and tries to catch her gaze. "You wanna go and see what he needs?" 

Pepa can't meet his eyes, just nods and hurries over to her brother with quick, agitated steps. Bruno must know that she is coming, but he is still half hiding behind that stupid tree. He has buried his nails into the bark and keeps his head down. She can't see his face at all. 

"Bruno!" Pepa hisses as soon as she is close enough. She allows herself a small cloud, hoping that she is far enough away that Felix won't see. "What are you doing here?" 

"M'sorry." he mumbles. "I just... Juli s'with Mama and..." 

"What's that got to do with anything?" Pepa explodes. She can feel the stares of the others on her back like needles poking her, drawing blood, poisoning her mind and soul. "Dios Bruno. Can't you spend one afternoon without one of us holding your hand?" 

Her little brother flinches back from her anger and Pepa immediately feels guilt clawing at her chest. She also can't help but notice that he is clinging to that tree with a kind of focus that almost seems desperate. 

"M'sorry." he repeats and Pepa feels a pit form in her stomach. His voice is shaking, his arms too. He sounds like he is on the verge of crying. "I don't wan' Mama to know. I didn't know where else to go." 

"Brunito." Her voice is soft now, soothing, her anger already nothing more than a fleeting memory. Something is wrong. Very wrong. "Look at me." 

He doesn't. Pepa has to grab his shoulder and guide his face up with a careful hand under his chin. 

She gasps when it comes into view and immediately brushes the hood away to get a better look. The black eye and split lip aren't even the worst. 

The worst is the bruise at his temple and the dazed look in his eyes. 

Panic seizes her heart. She's seen enough concussions while helping Julieta hand out food to know the signs. 

The panic is quickly overshadowed by a cold, hard fury. 

"Who did this?" she asks, eerily calm. Her hand is still cupping his chin, her thumb brushing over his cheek. Careful. So careful, as if she is handling cracked glass. Only the thundering, black cloud over her head betrays the turmoil wreaking havoc under her skin. 

Bruno shakes his head. Of course he does. He never willingly tells her who his attackers are. Not that it matters. Pepa will find out. She always does and when she does? May God have mercy with them. 

Cause Pepa won't. 

"Everything alright here?" 

Pepa whirls around and tries to shield her brother. She knows the voice and knows that he won't harm them, but her instincts are going haywire. Everything suddenly seems like a threat. 

Even wonderful Felix, who is standing at her shoulder and winces in sympathy when he sees Bruno's face. 

"Ay mierde, hombrecito! That looks bad. Who did this?" 

Bruno just stares at the other boy and stays silent. Pepa really doesn't like the dazed look in his eyes. They need to find Juli and lure her away from Mama's side. As much as Pepa would like to trust their Mama to deal with this in a satisfactory manner, Pepa knows that she will only talk with the bullies and their parents. If she even bothers to find out who they are and doesn't just tell Bruno to make more of an effort to 'make nice' with the other kids. 

No no. The time for talking has passed years ago. This needs Pepa's personal, physical touch and she can only do that if her mother isn't aware enough to stop her. 

"Don't worry. I'll find out.", she promises darkly. "I have to get him home. I think he has a concussion." 

"I'll come with you. Maybe whoever did this is still around." 

"I can protect us!" Pepa can't help bristling. The cloud over her head thunders ominously. 

Felix stares at the dark mass over their heads and Pepa feels like crying. He will never ask her out on a proper date now. Boys don't like violent girls. They don't want to be intimidated by a girl. They want to feel strong and in control. They want a pretty, vulnerable girl, who they can protect, who wants to be protected.  They want everything Pepa is not. After today, Felix will never look at her and think-

"Beautiful." The whisper is more breath than actual sound and Pepa almost convinces herself that she has imagined it. Felix stares at her cloud for a second longer with wonder and adoration, before he grins at the pair. He helps her steady her brother who is leaning dangerously to the side. "I know you can, Pepa. But I want to help you. Both of you." 

She just nods, too stunned to speak. Bruno leans heavily into her side, but doesn't shake Felix's hand off his shoulder. Which is either an amazing sign of trust or proof that he is even more out of it than she thought. 

They turn to leave and the group they leave behind shouts after them. Something about abandoning them and to not bother coming back if they leave now. Pepa couldn't care less and Felix doesn't even turn around, just cheerfully tells her to ignore los cabrones. He has slung one of Bruno's arms over his shoulder and periodically pats his back. 

Their progress is slow and Pepa grows more and more worried the longer Bruno stays silent. But when he opens his mouth, she kinda wishes that he hadn't, since he is apparently way too out of it to know what is going on. 

Or rather, who is with them. 

"Sorry Pepi. Din't wanna crash y'r date with Felix." 

Pepa keeps her face straight ahead. She will not react. She will NOT react. Other than the bright hot flush on her cheeks and the mist suddenly surrounding her head, she will not react. 

"Don't worry, amigo." Felix says. His voice sounds… it sounds actually pretty happy. 

Pepa glances at him over Bruno's head and her heart skips a beat at the smile he regards her with. He winks at her and she thinks she might swoon. "We'll just have to continue this after your sister beat up whoever did this to you. Or maybe that actually could be our next date. I definitely want to see that." 

Pepa grins. "Sure. It's a date."

(Bruno later tells her that, if the concussion hadn't made him throw up minutes later, it would have been their cheesy flirting. Pepa just ruffles his hair and keeps preparing for her date. Felix has just confirmed that the bully suspects nothing and has agreed to meet them in that clearing in an hour. 

She cracks her knuckles. 

It will be so romantic.)

[remsmoonlight]

— title : sweeter than candy

— word count : 3k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : daryl is good at keeping things buried, but when the thought of words left unsaid do you both realise you have both been thinking the same thing about the other. 

— warnings : mentions injuries, mentions of death

“ hi!! OMGG I came across your account and I’m obsessed with your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a Daryl Dixon x Reader following candy coated promises. Where Daryl has developed feelings for reader and following an errand run she gets injured and has to stay in bed. And Daryl find out! If that makes sense! Thank you!!! “

           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A deep desperation of yearning to be useful has led you to forget the risks involved in the interminable list of things that wish to cause you harm and are able to on such an intense scale. Luck had been on your side for so long, the illusion of life’s greatest ally refusing eluding your group for this long has proved itself to be just that — nothing more than an illusion. Once the burning of fear had dulled to nothing more than a dim ache, all you now feel is the one wound that does not run red yet pours into your veins as if it does. Stupidity. You’d volunteered yourself to go on a run with a small group, you’d spent enough time before the barbed wire fences, that you felt yourself becoming trapped.

A deep regret that would follow you even in death would be if any of your group would, too, meet their chapter’s end too soon by an immense error made on your part.

One thing that lays dormant in your mind, yet unable to completely fade is the fear of becoming too settled in safety. Spending too much time wrapped in a blanket of comfort that provides refuge from the grit the outside world revels in only hands you a vulnerability unsuitable for a reality submerged in death that roams freely. You don’t want to forget how to survive, you’ve come too far for that.

Part of that is how you have ended up being put to bedrest.

Your brain is yet to sort through and file the fleeting images that blend together into one disorientating image instead of a folder of what had occurred picture by picture. In one instance the group and yourself had been rummaging through the shelves that still contained some stock and the next, you’re rushing Maggie out of the way and pushing over shelves onto a growing horde of walkers. Though in the next second, your heart fell a thousand feet below as you lost your balance from the liquid coating the floor from where they’d tumbled and smashed to the floor, with the shards of glass forming a bewitching hazard.

“ your ankle still givin’ you trouble? “

The voice pulls you out of your thoughts, your sight settling on Maggie.

“ I don’t know if that hurts more or if these scratches do. “ You complain, your fingers lightly tug at the bandages that cover the fresh wounds that coat both of your palms, you take note of a number of loose fibres from the material.

“ Glass’ll do that to ‘ya. “ She chuckles, slowly moving into the room. She grabs a chair from the metal desk on the side and moves it next to your bed. “ I never got a chance to say thanks. “

“ You don’t have to worry about it. “ you refuse, shaking your head in turn.

“ I feel it’s my fault you’re like this. “

“ If we’re going to blame anyone, let’s blame my eyesight. I should have seen that wet patch. I should have been more careful. “ Frustration that burns bright in your reply as you turn away from her. Perhaps you’d spent too much time concealed from the harsh reality that constantly claws at you all as it takes refuge in a thick coat of a hauntingly isolating fog as it waits to drag you down with it further into the depths.

Mistakes are synonymous with fatalities now, one moment you’re on top of the world and in the next you can be in a free fall clutching the thin air as if it should be your saviour. Never have moments been promised, and this fact has never shone clearer than when the dead claimed the Earth for itself in an effort to void it of life wholly.

“ Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. “ Maggie brings a hand forward to squeeze your shoulder momentarily, a comforting smile packaged with it easing some of the self loathing you could feel weaving itself into your being.

“ I don’t have much to do in here by myself, I have to keep myself entertained somehow. “

“ Well, I got an idea.. “ She trails off, a mischievous grin lifting her lips.

“ Maggie.. “ You utter a strict warning, already knowing where the conversation is about to lead.

She pauses for a second, laughter bouncing from grimy wall to grimy wall as she reacts to your cautionary tone, the light in her eyes bursting with the power of a thousand stars as it illuminates her features. Gratitude for the fleeting moments of rare normalcy that reflects a past occurrence in the old world runs deep, for a fraction of a second you can pretend you’re simply two friends joking about something goofy and foolish. For a minute, you’re not sheltering in a decrepit prison as you run from walkers, it’s a perfectly average afternoon.

“ You can’t tell me you don’t realise the way he looks your way now? I know you’ve been lookin’.. “

“ Okay, I think I'm tired now. “ You huff, shifting your body as to your ability with your injured ankle to face the wall that has an array of stains permanently painted into its surface.

Maggie only laughs in response, the sounds of steps dulling into nothing more than a ghost of an echo that informs you of her departure. Her words have pulled a string you’d not wished to pay attention to until it would be absolutely necessary. Needless to say that as much as you’d tried to bury the budding seeds of affection into the dirt, they’d only bloomed in force into a sea of colour with the evidence left to coat your fingertips for everyone to see.

Never had it been your intention to entertain this idea, when anything positive you’ve managed to seize with both hands can be ripped away so unexpectedly that you are left to nurse the empty space left behind of what once had been, grieving the idea of what could have been. However, there’s a dim curiosity that softly grows in size that envelopes around you, compelling a desire to reacquaint yourself with a human intimacy that fell to the back of the queue as the instinct to survive overwhelmed it. You don’t want to fear living, you don’t want to fear connecting to others on a deeper level, but you can’t help but simply.. be afraid.

Had you been in a different reality where the world continued on as normal, you would have probably fallen under his spell sooner.

Only after that one night you’d spent on watch together after he’d gone out of his way to bring you such a simple gift illuminated him in a way that your sight would often lean towards him. Many times you would find yourself analysing his actions on a deeper level, a coy warmth burying itself in the pit of your stomach when realising he’d included you in his thought process. From the chocolate bar, to you being the first person he’d check on if you needed anything before heading out on a run, to even the simple act of being there just to talk when life felt rough. A shape of one Daryl Dixon had been carved out by the man before either of you had realised.

A thunderous groan erupts from your lips as you turn onto your back to stare at the bunk on top with the realisation hitting you like a train threatening not to stop. You completely adore the Dixon.

About an hour away from the Prison Daryl secures the last of the rabbits caught, they swing side to side with each of his calculated movements. All Daryl finds himself wanting to do is to get back to the Prison, unable to push down the inclination of being back to the comfort the life behind those metal fences bring. It’s been a long day and all he’s interested in is getting back to those he holds dear.

That thought is when a fleeting frame of your face crosses his mind. Though he speaks not of which he truly wishes to share, the time you do spend together is something he cherishes more than a billionaire would with all of the money and rubies in the world if they had them in the palm of their hands. The darker side of him, the side that would always listen to those who preferred to taint his waters with their gloom, doesn’t allow the emotions constantly swirling within him to be touched by the burning sun rays as they are laid bare.

Heavy breaths fall without grace from his chest as he’s let through the gates, the stony expressions etched deeply into Carol’s features. No words need to be uttered to know it’s to do with you, Daryl doesn’t even allow a thought before he’s making his way on a path he has walked a thousand times and will walk a thousand times more. Creaks that echo in the darkening corridors that are not lit by the comforting flames of candles, the prison sounding as if it’s more in pain than it appears — still, he pays no care. His only goal is to check on you, he’d be unable to forgive himself if anything were to happen to you and he’d never be able to see you one last time. His brain conjures a number of horrific scenarios and tainted pictures to accompany them as it runs wild in a sea of dread.

The crossbow that had been secured in Daryl’s grip is lowered gently to the ground as he scans your form, a grateful sigh when he sees the slow movement of breathing.

He lowers himself into the chair next to your bed, trying to pinpoint the moment he’d stopped gazing upon your form as a friend to replace it with an aura of starlight — no longer did he see the colour of your eyes, but galaxies full of life and wonderment. Daryl allows himself a few seconds to chase each other by as he considers his next action, though deep down he’s aware his decision had already been chosen, as he threads his fingertips into yours to allow your warmth to comfort the panic that had been raging at the thought of your demise. His thumb traces a circle that is light enough to keep you tucked away in a slumber and as a comfort technique for him, where his mind allows him the time to placate himself.

Before he’s aware of it, the sky blends into itself once more as the pastel hues paint it with dashes of gold from the sun as dawn breaks and he’s hunched over with your hands still connected as one — the position held the entire night. Nothing can be heard in the confined space except a symphony of soft breathing from you both, the serenity only the early hours in which no one is awake brings comfort to the sleeping forms of you and Daryl.

A lengthy yawn escapes your lips as your eyes fight to open as they blink heavily to adjust to the light that invades as much as it can. The weight of something lying comfortably in your hands confuses you, as you distinctly remember there had been no pressure previously, the image before you washes your entire body with the icy grip of shock as you scan the trail leading from the hand within yours to the person it belongs to. Teeth grip your bottom lip as you bite it, attempting to battle away a smile that wishes to break free, you can’t believe the sense of humour that the universe has. Not an inch is moved by any part of your body, you seek to savour the intensity that such a simple action bears, your eyes positively glowing in adoration as a softer side to the man is revealed. Moments like these are few and far between, it leaves you wanting to bottle it up and pocket it forever.

A squeak of displeasure cuts through the serenity the early hours have worked so hard to cultivate as you inch your injured ankle to the side, clearly different positions prove to be the opposite of beneficial. The noise is enough to wake Daryl, his sudden alertness makes you doubt whether he’d truly been in a deep rest, but it’s the least of your worries as he realises he spent the night with his grip connected to yours. The warmth that brought a grounding comfort to your being now is a phantom touch you crave again once an eerily coolness now surrounds your empty palm.

“ ‘M sorry ‘bout that. “

“ There’s nothing to apologise for, Daryl. It was nice. “ You confess, your volume touches the air with a softness of a feather that descends to below in an elegant waltz.

“ Mhm. “ He turns his gaze to the floor, a thumb is chewed upon lightly as he’s wondering what he should say next. “ ‘Was worried about ‘ya as soon as I got back. “

“ Yeah, things just kinda happened. “

“ ‘Ya gotta watch y’self more out there. “ He scolds you with a light scorch of misplaced anger that almost lays eternally with him, a wave of anxiety at the thought of losing you are twins in a realm of horror he never wants to bear witness to.

“ I know, Daryl. “

Poisonous words full of fire and fury born out of dread of your existence in his life being cut short itch to burn your indifference to the situation. As he settles his gaze upon you, all he can see are the stolen moments you both have shared away from the group, where the person he’d created in his head built without even speaking to had been smashed into shards the more he got to know — you’re a fresh breath of peace in an unstable world that thrives on chaos. Quiet moments where all he can hear are the flickering embers of the fire are the memories he finds himself kicking for, all that lost time to never be recovered due to his preconceived notions.

“ Do ‘ya? “ Daryl shakes his head in frustration, his soul a pot of swirling emotions and thoughts blinding him to the point he can’t see straight. “ I can’t lose ‘ya. “

His voice is so low you barely hear it, your brows thread together in the slightest form as they’re unused to the window of Daryl’s vulnerability being so widely open.

“ You won’t. “ A faint twitch of your lips means well, you try to comfort the man. Your touch is delicate as your palm overlaps his with warmth.

“ Y’can’t promise that. “

“ But I can try! “ You argue lightly, a bounce in your response.

“ Forget it. “ Daryl sighs harshly, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts that run circles around his mind.

“ Daryl! Wait. “ Your voice falls on deaf ears as he’s already halfway towards the exit of the room, for a moment you forget your injury and a burning sensation flies with boundless wings up your protesting muscles and you land in a heap on the floor. The bandages do nothing to cushion your fall, you cry out in pain from the intensity of the throbbing plaguing your body.

“ Why can’t ‘ya be careful!? Damn it. “

Before you know it, Daryl is level with you as you feel his touch grazing your skin — ensuring you’d not injured yourself further. Guilt pools in his stomach at the thought of your current suffering being his fault, his ire now directs itself brightly towards him.

“ Dar — what’s going on? Why are you acting like this? “ You quiz as your expression contorts into a grimace. You’d not seen him behave like this for what feels like a long century, even more so when directed towards you.

“ Like what?! Huh? “

“ You’re being crazy! “ You state, your finger jabs into his chest.

“ Ain’t it obvious? “ Daryl asks suddenly.

Your head shakes, confusion clouds your features as if it’s an angry storm that has waited long enough for the calm — nothing can be seen through the darkened skies. All you want is for the sunny rays of truth to shed light upon this mess.

“ ‘Ya mean more to me than you should. “

“ Daryl? Do.. do you — ? “

He nods suddenly, unable to hear the words out loud no matter how true they ring, because as real as it is. There would be no taking it back then. Your lips purse as a sad smile lifts itself with no help from you, your heart hurting as you realise this could have been avoided entirely since you both appear to be on the same page. You acknowledge the fact that actions would speak louder than words in this scenario, your fingertips brush through darkened strands of hair as if they play a sheet of music with the aging competence of a commanding pianist. This is one of many songs your mind finds itself conjuring, a burning hope of this forging something more between you. It’s not long before your arms are wrapped around his neck, with Daryl unable to believe the scene in which he finds himself in, you’re a sky full of stars that he finds himself wanting to get lost in.

“ We can take this one step at a time, yeah? “ You question softly, not wanting to be witness to the fleeting images of a set of angel wings.

He agrees silently, a warmth spreads outwards from your cheeks and treks outwards to cover your completely. The moment is sweet, as it concludes with a honeyed kiss on his tanned cheek. In one frame you both are thinking the same thing, just how lucky you are to have fought through your fears of living and given in to taking the plunge into unchartered waters that Maggie and Glenn have already found themselves navigating.

In a world full of the dead, you both agree that to love shouldn’t be a reason to cower and hide.

[applepiewinchesters]

Don’t Take Him (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Word Count: 2,074

The car couldn’t possibly go any faster as you raced down the practically deserted street. What used to be one of the main roads into the city of Sokovia had become somewhat overgrown and cracked since it’s downfall.

You remembered when it happened. The disaster was on the news for weeks, the huge hole left where the city was, destroyed remnants of the city only further destroyed during the search for survivors, or bodies. The death toll grew every day, it was truly a devastating loss.

With the only surviving royal, Helmut Zemo, thrown into prison, the country was practically demolished and wiped off the map. A lake replaced what was remaining of the city, and a monument was built to memorialize those that had died.

Helmut Zemo was the whole reason you were driving well over the speed limit down a not so safe road.

You hadn’t expected to like him when you first met. You were working at the prison, bringing those in solitary confinement their meals.

He grew on you though, he was smart, funny, and could talk about almost every topic under the sun. You felt for him, you really did, losing his family in the Battle of Sokovia the way he did.

Sure, he may have killed the King of Wakanda and practically became the reason the Avengers nearly disbanded, but he wasn’t a horrible human being, he wasn’t evil. All Zemo had wanted was for someone to be blamed for what happened to his family.

As the years went on you fell for him and he reciprocated the feeling. You told him you’d wait for him, even after getting a new job away from the prison.

What you never expected though was for him to show up at the front door of your apartment, with Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson no less, to whisk you away to help him and the other two find out who was making super soldiers and to stop the Flag Smashers.

You were thrilled obviously, he was here, right in front of you, no glass, no cameras watching, but there was a constant nagging in your mind, a nauseous feeling in your stomach that there was no way that this would last.

When the Dora Milaje showed up in Latvia to take him back to prison, that feeling was proven to not just be a “what if”, but more of a constant dread in the pit of your stomach. Neither of you really discussed it, just tried to spend as much time together as possible.

That was of course proven difficult with the Flag Smashers and John Walker getting in the way of everything.

Sam and Bucky of course were no help, they didn’t trust Zemo one bit, which you could understand, but it seemed no one was on your side. The two men even questioned you on how you could be with him.

You tried to explain that even though he had made past mistakes you didn’t think that defined him as a person, and you felt as though you both found each other at the right time. Of course, they both thought that was bullshit.

Everything seemed to be going alright until the Dora Milaje declared Zemo had run out of time and came to collect him. During a whirlwind fight between John, Sam, and Bucky though, the Baron disappeared, apparently escaping through the sewage hole in the bathroom of his home you were staying in in Latvia.

John Walker then brutally killed one of the Flag Smashers in front of maybe fifty people, so after he, Bucky, and Sam all left Latvia, you decided there was only one place Zemo would be.

That was more than 15 hours ago, you’d been driving all night, and your GPS was having a hard time trying to locate a city that no longer existed which only fed your frustration. Although you were beyond pissed he’d left you alone, you had to get him back.

Currently according to the GPS, the memorial was only five minutes out and apparently if you headed straight through the woods to your right you would find it. So, pulling over you jumped out of the car, sprinting into the trees.

You were breathing hard, running faster and faster, fueled only by adrenaline as you were exhausted from driving all night.

You were silently begging that he’d there, that it wouldn’t be too late.

Breaking through the trees you startled the two men standing at the memorial. Bucky was there, pointing a gun at Zemo’s head, and Zemo stood there, calm as can be.

“Don’t!” you shouted running over and putting yourself between the gun and the man you loved.

“Y/N, move,” Bucky told you, face stoic, hand steady as he aimed the gun.

“No,” you said, standing your ground, fists clenched as you tried your best to keep the tears at bay.

You felt hands on your waist as you were gently moved to the side, “It’s alright, angel,” Zemo’s voice came from behind you, “Move aside.”

Turning around, you mentally cursed yourself as a few tears slipped down your cheeks, “I am not going to stand here and let him shoot you,” you said sternly.

Zemo remained calm, giving you a small, sad smile. He took your face in his hands, placing a kiss to your forehead, “Please, let me go sweetheart,” he told you, placing his forehead against yours.

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder. Your grip was tight, you were holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded to the Earth.

The familiar scent of his cologne was comforting but only made your heart break further. You were fully crying now, your breath catching in your throat as Zemo’s arms circled around you.

“You’ll find someone else, someone better for you, I promise,” Zemo spoke to you softly. He placed a few kisses on your head, breathing you in for a moment before taking your arms from around him. He was no super soldier but from years of training in the army and special forces, he was strong.

With a push from Zemo you were sent stumbling backwards, Bucky grabbed your arm, swiftly pulling you behind him.

“No, NO!” you screamed as Bucky raised the gun again.

“Go ahead,” Zemo told Bucky, giving you one last look before Bucky pulled the trigger.

It took both you and Zemo a moment to realize nothing had happened. Bucky held out his opposite hand, opening it to show the bullets and casings in his hand as he dropped them to ground.

Zemo nodded, accepting that he was not going to die, he was in for something much worse.

“He’s all yours!” Bucky called, looking over Zemo’s shoulder, it was then you noticed three of the Dora Milaje standing there, ready to take Zemo.

You moved from behind Bucky, “No, no please, please,” you begged, moving to grab Zemo again, hugging him tightly.

You felt as though you couldn’t breathe, your face was wet from all the tears, you probably looked like a mess.

“Y/N, let him go,” Bucky told you, trying to coax you away from the man.

“NO!” you shouted, pressing your face into Zemo’s chest this time as he hugged you again.

Zemo ran a hand through your hair, shushing you quietly, trying to comfort you in what was going to be your last few moments together for god knows how long.

“Please moya lyubov', I have to go now, we both knew this would not be forever,” Zemo told you, pulling you off him.

You couldn’t believe he was just accepting this; he was going to be put away for the rest of his life no doubt, somewhere more secure where you would never see him again.

You on the other hand were sobbing as you turned towards the Dora Milaje, “Please! I-I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything! Please! Just don’t take him again, please!” you begged.

The one you recognized as Ayo shook her head, “He must pay for his crimes, he knows what he’s done, let him go little girl.”

Zemo grabbed you, giving you a quick, soft kiss and you grabbed the front of his coat, gripping onto him tightly. Pulling away from the kiss Zemo took your hands in his, bringing each up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay safe angel, alright? Promise me,” Zemo told you, making sure you looked him in the eye.

You could only nod, gripping onto his coat again. “Use your words, promise me,” Zemo spoke.

“I-I promise,” you whimpered, your vision blurring from the tears as you shivered from a cold gust of wind.

Zemo shrugged off his coat, wrapping it around you, you smiled through the tears a bit. Even facing life in prison, he was still a gentleman.

You felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from Zemo. Practically clawing at him you tried to keep him near you, but Bucky was too strong as he held you back.

“James,” Zemo said, turning his attention to the super soldier. “Take care of her, will you?”

You assumed Bucky nodded or gave acknowledgment, because Zemo gave you one last sad smile, “Do not worry moya lyubov', we will see each other again.”

With that, he turned and followed the three warriors towards the jet waiting for them.

Ayo came over, telling Bucky something but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your own begging.

“No, no, no please! Please! I’ll do anything, don’t take him, please!” you were screaming after the three warriors and the man you loved. “Helmut please!”

None of them looked back as you continued to fight against Bucky, trying to escape his grasp to run after them, to do anything to keep them from taking Zemo away.

It was no use, and Bucky only let you go when the four were flying away in the Wakandan made jet.

You collapsed, the stones beneath you no doubt bruising your knees as you fell. Bucky didn’t try to comfort you as you sobbed, burying your face in your hands.

Zemo’s last words to you gave you no comfort as you cried until your throat was raw and you felt as though you were out of tears.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up, Bucky was kneeling in front of you, trying to comfort you now, “Come on kid, you can’t stay here,” he told you.

Silently nodding you took Bucky’s hand as he helped you up, “I’ll drive,” he told you, “I’m assuming you drove?” he asked.

Only nodding again, you gave Bucky the keys from your jeans pocket as you both made your way back into the trees towards the car. You shoved your arms through the too big coat Zemo had given you, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

Your heart felt as though it had shattered, you had just started to feel as though your life with Zemo had just started, and now it had all come crashing down.

You could only hope his words would ring true and you’d see him again.

***

It was weeks later when the shrill ringing of a phone that didn’t sound like yours broke the silence of your apartment.

You were laying on the couch, wallowing in self pity as you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The only solace you’d gotten was when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, had called you to tell you that you were welcome to stay in one of the Baron’s many houses worldwide, any expenses would be paid for by the Baron of course.

Oeznik also reassured you Zemo was doing fine, as fine as fine could be in a maximum-security prison.

Bucky called you as well, keeping his promise to Zemo, you ignored most of his calls though, he was the reason they took him away.

Getting off the couch, you searched for the source of the ringing, finally discovering it was Zemo’s coat you had thrown across the back of one of the kitchen table chairs, where it had sat since you’d put it there.

Rummaging through the pockets you found a phone, it looked older, one of those cheap track phones.

Hesitantly, you flipped it open, the ringing stopped before you spoke, “Hello? Who is this?”

"Printessa, it’s me.”

A/N: Well, this is my first time writing for Zemo and of course it had to be angst lol. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d want more Zemo! Thank you for reading! 

Russian Translations:

moya lyubov' - my love 

Printessa - Princess 

[myonepiece]

Buggy, Kid, Killer headcanon- seeing you dance with someone else

•~•~•~•~

You’re already together btw

Sorry they’re kinda long

Buggy

•My poor love I just want to hug him and kiss his nose

•You have been together for 1 1/2 months but of course he’s liked you way longer

•Buggy had dropped you off at an island a little ways away from the one he & the rest of the crew were heading to

•You had gotten into a fight with an already mad Buggy & he insulted you including calling you weak for giving him a flower you had found & you were still very angry which is why you had asked him for time alone

•Once in the village, you were invited to a party on a ship that was going to be staying close to the island- it was a fancier party, thrown by one of the rich bachelors in the village, so you bought a nice long blue dress and some silver heels in one of the village shops

•Later on into the night the band started playing a slow song, and it just so happened that the bachelor who threw the party asked you for a dance & you accepted for distraction from your depressing thoughts

•You had always loved slow dancing and wanted to ask Buggy but you were too scared to because of the whole “pirates don’t do weak stuff” and you classified slow dancing as something pirates would call weak

•The man led you to the center of the parted crowd and rested one hand on your waist and taking one of your hands in his other (or traditional slow dancing position) and he started to lead you

•Meanwhile, Buggy and his crew had boarded his ship and were sailing towards where you were- it was now midnight and Buggy was very worried about you and missed you

•All Buggy wanted was to have you back in his arms laying in bed in your shared cabin whispering apologies and trying to make you smile & smiled just thinking about it, but his smile and his heart quickly broke as he spotted you through binoculars, dancing in the arms of another man

��His mouth straightened into a thin line as his heart squeezed at the thought that 1 fight had ended his relationship with the woman he loved more than anything

•The closer they sailed, he could make out the mans grip on you & your smiles as you looked at each other while slowly moving in the romantic setting

•Buggy’s heart felt like it was being ripped apart as he remembered that he had called you weak for giving him that flower, surely you thought he wouldn’t want to do something as cliche and “un-piratey” as slow dancing in the moonlight but he would love to do that with you, to have you smile at him the you were smiling at the rich man holding you

•Of course someone like you would never really love someone like Buggy, a stupid clown pirate with a giant red nose- Buggy’s thoughts turned against him as he fought to hold back tears, he told Cabaji to get you into the ship and then he left to hide in your shared cabin

•You saw the ship but didn’t see Buggy, you figured he saw you dancing and your heart hurt at the thought of hurting the man you love

•You got right on the ship and ran below deck into your cabin where Buggy was sitting on the bed sulking

•Your heart broke at the sight and you locked the door behind you as you hurried across the room and sat in front of Buggy and took both of his hands in yours apologizing profusely “I’m so sorry my darling I promise it meant nothing”

•You explained your thoughts and reasons to a teary eyed Buggy and after you finished he nodded and said he understood but he would dance with you anytime and didn’t mean to call you weak, he actually loved the flower you gave him

•You took off your dress while buggy turned and closed his eyes, then gave you his coat to wear to bed

•He held directly on top of his chest and looked you in the eyes telling you “I love you do so much Y/N, I promise I’ll do anything to make you happy” to which you respond with kissing his nose before following with a “I love you too my clown king” then falling asleep as he cradled you to his chest with a bright blush and huge grin

Kid

•You’ve been together for 7 months

•It’s no secret Captain Kid doesn’t do romance, so when you ask him to slow dance with you he says no

•You’ve asked on multiple occasions but he always makes a disgusted face and says “pirates don’t slow dance”

•Kid said slow dancing is weak and he was too strong for that

•Kid is a violent, cruel, & aggressive man so you can’t say you expected him to say yes to any of your requests

•When you heard about a fancy little party going on at island you landed at, you decided to go and get some food & dance a little

•You asked Kid to come and dance, but of course he said no and that he and the rest of the crew were going to find a bar

•You found a beautiful long dress in one of the town shops and set out to the party at sunset a little after the crew had left

•All eyes were on you at the party, as you walked around and had a few things to eat and a few drinks

•A slow song started and you wished Kid was there, but you realized he would’ve scoffed and continued getting drunk

•You just wanted him to hold you close as you swayed to soft music, you wanted him to be soft instead of crude and pervy

•So when a man asked you to dance you accepted with only a tiny part of your brain worrying about Kid

•Kid had seen you follow a path into the woods, wearing a dress that complemented every part of your beauty

•He just couldn’t help but smirk and tell Killer to watch the crew as he went to follow you

•He was also angry that you were going out to a party alone wearing that

•The path led Kid to a small courtyard lit with lanterns, with music playing and people dressed in nice clothes

•He looked through the courtyard for you but he didn’t see you until the guests all moved and made room for a couple slow dancing, the couple being you and the stranger

•As soon as he saw the man’s arms around you leading you in a slow dance & the wide smile on your face showing that you were enjoying this, Kid felt his heart clench

•He didn’t feel all anger for once, he felt an ache in the pit of his stomach

•He hadn’t realized how much you would have enjoyed slow dancing with him, you had asked him many times but he always saw it as weak

•He knew he was violent, aggressive & scary, and seeing someone make you smile so beautifuly by being so gentle.. so opposite him made him feel... insecure

•Kid felt like he was losing you and he hated that feeling, like the one thing he loved was being ripped away from him in front of his eyes

•He snapped & barged into the courtyard grabbing you by the hand and tearing you away from the man then leading you into the woods to a clearing where the moonlight cast a spotlight-like glow

•Kid rested his hands on your waist and looked into the distance with a solemn expression as he started to sway

•You didn’t know what happened but you were finally getting to slow dance with Kid so you placed your hands on his strong shoulders rested your head on his chest

•You mumbled a “thank you” into his chest and after a few moments Kid whispered a soft “I love you Y/N” into your hair as he rested his head on top of yours

Killer

•God I love this man

•You had only been together for 3 1/2 months

•Killer would’ve said yes if you had asked him to slow dance with you

•He didn’t mind doing romantic things for you especially when it made you so happy

•He’s in love with you and would anything for you

•You had never asked Killer to dance with you because you had assumed he would say no because you were pretty sure pirates don’t slow dance and you didn’t want him to think your were weak or pathetic for asking for something so cliche

•So after having a few drinks in a bar, you were feeling particularly soft and in a romantic mood

•You weren’t completely drunk but you were tipsy enough to think it was okay to go outside to slow dance with a man who had asked you and who was not your boyfriend

•Killer came back from the bathroom and asked Heat where you went, to which Heat responded by pointing towards the door with a skeptical and somewhat nervous expression

•Killer walked out of the bar hoping to find you alone so you could spend some time with you alone, so he was not happy at all when he walked out to see you swaying slowly in the moonlight shining into the alley around the corner with your hand in the hand of another man

•He had his hand on your waist and his other hand holding yours (in a traditional slow dancing position)

•Killer felt his heart drop immediately and his heart clenched as he took in the sight of your contempt smile

•He was very insecure about himself, his laugh, his appearance with his mask, and the way you couldn’t look into his eyes like you were looking into the other man’s

•Accompanying the jealousy and hurt that clawed at his heart, there was an anger and possessiveness and a few drinks but not many that caused him to rush into the street and grab the man by his shirt and throw him to the ground away from you

•Killer waited for the man to run away before he turned back to you and pulled you towards him with his hands on your waist

•You placed your hands on his strong chest as he swayed slowly with you looking down at you through the holes of his mask

•”I really wish you had asked me to dance with you if that’s what you wanted to do” Killer said in a quite voice laced with hurt

•Your Heart broke at the sound of it and the realization of what you had done “I’m so sorry Killer, I just thought that someone like you wouldn’t want to do something so... weak”

•”I would do anything for you sweetie” Killer said softly as he hugged you to his chest, you looked up and kissed his chin lightly before settling your face in his chest

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team,  and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it’s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.” 

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vi

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 6.6k

part 5 ⚬ part 6 ⚬ part 7 

untouchable m.list

—

Recap:

And for the first half of this year you found yourself falling in love. Falling for this second glance of a man.

So finding out that Izumi Kenji had a partner was a punch to the gut. 

Reaching for his hand that summer was a defining moment for you. The way he snatched his hand away from yours would have knocked all the air out of your lungs if you’d had any breath to spare.

—

Laughter echoes off the sides of buildings as you make your way past food stalls and restaurants. It’s warm. A gentle breeze tussles his hair, different strands catching purple and orange light from the store signs.

There are several things that are begging to hold your attention right now. 

A new café to your right is stringing a “Grand Opening” banner across its shop doors. Bike bells ring off in the distance, the wheels gently thrumming against dusty cobblestone. Groups of teenagers snicker as they pass you by, their voices carefree and teasing. Two dogs tread loyally next to their owners on the other side of the street, their claws clicking as their paws hit the pavement. 

But even among all of those distractions and details, all you can see is him. The mop of messy hair atop his head. His umber brown eyes. A curious smile.

Izumi Kenji had stolen your heart slowly and carefully; he did so without a balaclava or a disguise to lure you in. And as you meander the downtown area with him, your fondness for him only grows.

Meeting him at that after-work party may have been the best thing that happened to you this year. You were comfortable - in the middle of a bar, talking to a stranger and laughing with him. And who were you to turn down the one good thing life had sent your way.

Although, with how nonexistent your social life was, you would’ve let almost anyone into your social circle. You just deem yourself lucky that it was Kenji who happened to be in your vicinity.

He’d ended up asking for your number at the end of the night - you rattled off the digits faster than you could blink.

“...if you ever need anything, just send me a text.”

It was an outstretched hand of a sentence. A bone thrown to a starving dog. Finally, there was a person you could rely on.

You took his words to heart.

After that night, it was almost unfair how easily he broke down your barriers. 

It was Kenji who took you sightseeing through all of Osaka in the Winter months, making sure that you’d mapped out the area so that you were more comfortable when you went exploring on your own. Your snow boots and his became well acquainted.

He’d shown you his favorite eateries and shops, rambling quietly about his favorite pastries and old, dusty memories that came from his time spent in the area. 

His jacket made its way to your shoulder when you visibly shuddered from the cold as Winter shifted to Spring. And as Summer approached, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. With distant eyes, you learned about his family and his plans. You wondered if maybe there was a place for you in that future.

Any doubts about this connection you had with him had melted away. 

He was your closest friend by far… and who’s to say he couldn’t be more?

You glance to your left, a small smile working its way onto your lips. Kenji’s eyes wander the street, completely lost in thought. His expression is serene under the violet glow of street lights. 

And his hand… his hand is achingly close to your own.

Its a position you frequently found yourself in: walking side by side, almost touching, but never quite close enough to grasp at his hand. 

You’ve never really seen yourself as someone to make first moves, but this has gone on for too long. And your fingertips are begging you to do something about this distance between you two. 

You swallow hard.

Choking back your hesitation, you brush your hand against his.

He doesn’t pull away, only sending you a quick glance. Kenji’s soft smile doesn’t budge, though he does raise an eyebrow at you.

You assume that this is a good sign. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, the moment feels natural, and this… this could actually work.

You take one more deep breath and gingerly link your fingers with his-

But before you can even blink, Kenji snaps his hand back to his side. His head whips toward you, feet stopping in their tracks.

“What… what are you doing,” he stammers, eyes widening.

You wince. That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping for. Far from it.

“I think that’s-” You glance down at your rejected hand, eyes wide, “-kind of obvious.”

He stares at you, mouth agape. You take a step back, heart dropping. Why would he pull his hand back? Did I do something wrong-

“I’m seeing someone-” He breathes, “-you knew that.”

Like a tree branch splintering after a lightning strike, you feel as though something inside of you has cracked and split. 

Your body can’t decide if your blood should turn to ice from shock or if it should succumb to the heat of humiliation rising in your chest. How did you not know this?

And why hadn’t you just asked him first? 

That’s what normal people did. If you hadn’t acted based on a silly impulse maybe you would have spoken to him about your relationship with him first… but it’s too late now. And the pressure continues to build up in your stomach until you feel like a balloon on the verge of popping.

“...you knew that… didn’t you?”

Something sharp stabs at your heart.

“I had no idea.” Your reply is flat. Distant.

It twists.

“I- I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn I’d told you…” He responds softly.

In a tearing motion, it rips back out.

“No. You hadn’t.” You say curtly, eyes glazing over.

You let on to the bitterness welling up in your chest more than you wish you would have… but who could blame you? 

Tucking your hands deep into your pants pockets, you try to hold your composure. 

Your mouth is uncomfortably dry and your hands are suddenly very sweaty. 

What does someone do in a situation like this? 

You’d always assumed that this was the type of thing to happen to somebody else. Thinking that feelings were mutual and then being struck with the fact that your “almost-boyfriend” was actually already deep into a relationship. It sounds like something out of a teenage romance novel... but it’s clear that the shame clouding your mind is not secondhand.

Unintentionally or not, Kenji had led you on… and here you are, feeling like you’ve just been publicly gutted.

He doesn’t owe you anything. No, not at all. 

If anything, you owe him for all of the kindness he’s extended to you. 

But that doesn’t explain everything he’s done for you these past few months. 

Paying for meals even though you’d practically fought him for bills at every restaurant you’d visited together. Spending hours together on weekends when you both had work to complete. Meeting his friends, taking the train together on days when your schedules collided, exploring the city and your past with him…

You’d wondered why he hadn’t asked you out yet.

It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was confused too?

A thought crosses your mind that maybe he may have been using you as some sort of support system. Maybe you were just let into his life to comfort him through his own relational instability. Were you just Kenji’s escape? Is he just completely unaware?

But now you’re just jumping to conclusions. It might not be anything of the sort. Trying to piece together a story that doesn’t add up in the first place won’t help you at all - at least, not right after such a blatant rejection.

You take another step back, effectively tuning out anything he has to say. The light on his face no longer reflects something inviting; instead, all you can see is the confusion marring his previously peaceful expression.

He’s trying to talk to you, he’s taking steps toward you, he’s even reaching a hand out… but you just can’t. Not with the discomfort in your chest and a thundercloud of tension rumbling above you.

You can’t remember what shitty excuse you’d made to get out of there, but not even 10 minutes after this awkward, messy, fucked up moment, you’re on a train back home. 

And everything is numb. 

The shuffle and shake of the passenger car is enough to distract you for now.

But the moment you get home - the very second you kick off your shoes - insecurity comes knocking at the door of your mind. 

You lay face down on the couch. The room stirs in darkness, gloom sinking into the cracks of the wall and pooling at the corners of your eyes. Because how was this fair? What had you done to deserve this? Was nothing going to be easy for you?

You let yourself cry.

Questions swim through your mind. Fears too. The pain of, once again, being alone exposes itself through heavy tears and spluttering sobs.

So you attempt to bury it all deep down...

As far from the surface as it can go... 

But as most things do, these questions and insecurities will resurface. 

It’s only a matter of time.

—

You noticed it from the moment you woke up.

The stiffness in your arms and the churning in your stomach were telltale signs… but as the hours rolled on and the sun sunk lower in the sky, it became more obvious. 

Your lungs were fine yesterday, but today they shrink and tighten with every passing minute.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve switched on the TV and turned to Netflix for comfort. It isn’t much, but the modulated noise of a baking show and a warm blanket draped over your lap blocks out some of the dizzying worries in your head.

First date nerves are a thing.

The clammy palms, the jitters, the loss of appetite… you have it all. 

You’re well aware that this is a universal experience, so you try to empathize with yourself. There’s no reason to be embarrassed by it. Shame would only drag you deeper into this muddy pit of nerves that you’re so desperately trying to claw your way out of.

But this technically isn’t even a date. 

And you’re not about to assume that it’s anything like one.

Just to be safe, you’ve decided that this outing would blandly be categorized as a “sporadic meet up with a stranger.” Your words, not Atsumu’s. 

But just because it isn’t technically a date doesn’t mean you can’t be jittery… 

You grip the remote in your hand tighter. It accidentally shuts the TV off, but that’s probably for the better. You haven’t gotten ready yet and it’s getting close to 5 pm. Somehow you’d managed to snuggle the day away in your apartment. Again.

Letting out an anxious yawn, you hop up from your nestled position on the couch.

You step into the hallway and make your way to the bathroom to wash your face. As you patter the length of the hall, you finally allow your mind to roam. It immediately hones in on your anxieties like a dog chasing a delightfully peeved squirrel.

Is it pathetic? To be 20 something years old and petrified by something as simple as a dinner date? 

Your brain says “no,” but a part of you is whispering out a quiet “yes” in response. Most people would be excited to see someone after being lonely for so long. 

So why are you this bothered? What’s with this piercing fragility that makes your hands shake and your skin crawl? 

When did you become so… scared? Like you would crumble just by being in the presence of another person?

And then it hits you. Your head plummets into your hands.

Ever since you’d met Atsumu, you haven’t had the mental stamina to think about Izumi Kenji. 

Or what he’d done to you. Or how he’d metaphorically pushed you when you were already toeing at the precipice of a cliff. You’d been a step away from falling and breaking under the weight of the past few years, and he’d shattered you in a single night.

So, yes, that would explain the current twisting in your chest. It’s also probably why you’re so worried about Atsumu. Or, at least, it’s one big reason as to why, you conclude.

But, even with this epiphany, you find yourself stepping into the bathroom, wrung dry and physically unsteady. Thinking about Kenji doesn’t make you feel any better.

Your fingers grip the rim of the porcelain sink, eyes fixed on the drain in the center. 

You stare at it. 

One reminder of him and you were already weary. 

The glossiness of the bowl reflects a splotchy, humanesque blob back at you. You swivel the faucet handle, letting warm water coast around the bowl and spiral down the drain. It erases that human-like reflection.

If only it could wash away your problems. Now that’d be something to write home about.

The cool of the tile beneath your feet and a splash of warm water on your face is a welcome distraction… but short-lived. The water drips off of your face. You blindly feel around for a fresh towel and, after laying your hands on one, you gently pat your face down.

Blinking your eyes open, you stand up straight.

As you do, you find yourself studying a much clearer reflection than the blurry face in the sink bowl. Sunken features bore into you from the bathroom mirror. You sigh and turn to open up a medicine cabinet to grab a few facial products, applying them one-by-one.

If you do happen to crash and burn tonight, you figure you might as well look damn good in the process. Skincare would help with that.

But before you can further sink into the idea that tonight might turn into another nightmarish scenario, a friendly face, someone sunny and charming, enters your mind. 

The picture Atsumu’s wavy hair and that smug smile of his. While the rest of his face is a little fuzzy in your mind, you vividly remember how his mouth quirk upwards and the electric buzz you felt from the sheer warmth of his eyes.

Atsumu has been on your mind a lot these days. And, as much as it’s been a distraction, it’s also been a welcome mental detour. 

Somehow, the very thought of him coaxes your own lips to relax into a smile. You sigh, tilting your head back in defeat. So this is what 3 years of loneliness can do to a person - how embarrassing.

But you can’t deny that he gives you something to look forward to - an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. You two share a connection; there’s some common ground that hasn’t been dug up just yet. And, for whatever it’s worth, you want to keep digging until you figure it out.

As you smooth a moisturizer over your skin, you decide that you’ll wear something nice tonight. Maybe you’ll pick out an outfit you haven’t worn before and do your best to drown your shaky hands in the fabric of a long-sleeved shirt. If it goes well, maybe you’ll have found someone who actually likes you.

If it doesn’t work out, you can just drive back home and forget he ever existed. Simple as that.

But... 

You’d like to think that Atsumu could be just as sweet as he seems; assuming the worst about him would get you nowhere.

You continue to repeat that to yourself before you leave. That all you can do is hope it goes well. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

—

You rest your foot firmly on the brake and switch the gearshift so that your car is in park. You rub your eyes and double-check the location on your phone’s GPS. Back at your apartment, it looked like you would be arriving at a café near the park… but you’re not so sure anymore.

Did… did Atsumu really send you here?

You never entertained the idea of him being a prankster… but if this was, perhaps, a practical joke? Well, you’re not above calling him and telling him to “fuck off.” There’s nothing stopping you from driving away and blocking his number right now.

Scrolling through the map application, you notice that you’re relatively close to several restaurants, so there is that. He’d promised you dinner and there’s an abundance of food within walking distance.

But you weren’t expecting to pull up to such a secluded location. You shiver in your seat and grip the steering wheel. Does he realize just how scary it is to meet someone at a random place like this?

Whipping out your phone, you tap a quick message containing something along the lines of “why the hell did you send me to a park.” Your therapist would probably give you a high-five for being so straightforward.

You hit send and sink into your chair. 

A brief glance out your car window helps to settle your frayed nerves just a hair. 

It’s not quite as empty as you thought it was. The area is just… calm. Many couples stroll along the main path, hand-in-hand. Others are sat on picnic blankets, tucking their toes into the cool grass and chattering away. 

And, most comfortingly of all, it’s still bright outside. 

You thank the sun that it still rests above the horizon, drenching the trees tops and green grass with deep-honey hues. People and daylight mean safety. You’ve had to learn that after living alone for so long.

A text notification pings on your phone only seconds after messaging him. 

You’ll give him some credit. Atsumu is a timely texter. You’ve found yourself in more real-time texting conversations with him than almost anyone else you’ve met in Osaka. And it’s been how long since you met him? A few weeks? A month?

Atsumu’s text reassures you that you’re not at the wrong place.

At least the park was intentional, you nod to yourself. You’re doing your best to trust that he wouldn’t take you somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

Another text informs you that he’s already seated on a bench near where you parked.

Your heart skips a beat and your head jolts upward, scanning the area. A hand also shoots up to clutch at your chest, gripping the fabric of your top. 

Yep. You’re still jumpy.

But this time, the shaky hands and pounding nerves are rooted in restlessness instead of fear… and maybe a little bit of excitement?

Suddenly, the park is far less frightening.

You step out of the car, wallet and keys in one hand, and smooth out your outfit with your free hand. The wind nips at you through the fabric of your clothes, but with the sunshine painting your skin, it isn’t too bad. 

Maybe bringing a coat would’ve been wiser than relying on this sweater to keep you warm… but it’s too late to think about that now.

Your eyes dart around and you trod through the grass and onto a graveled pathway. It crunches satisfyingly underneath your feet, but you can’t enjoy it when you’re so intent on finding him. With a few short strides, you’re quick to spot the back of someone’s head. A familiar head of blonde waves shines golden thanks to the setting sun. 

You’re almost entirely sure it’s Atsumu.

And as if he had sensed your presence, the man in question tilts a glance over his shoulder.

His face is blank until he catches your eye. 

An easy grin, one brighter than the stars, bursts into existence.

For someone so conventionally attractive, he sure looks excited to see little ole you. Raising your hand, you wave and send him a shy smile back.

He’s quick to jump to his feet and as he does, you’re quickly reminded of just how tall he is. Atsumu’s head matches the height of several tree branches. It makes you think that he’s probably walked into a number of things. Door headers, branches, signs that are hung a couple of inches too low… you’re sure he’s learned to duck and dodge over the years.

You wish you could ask him about that.

You blink.

That’s right. You can ask him about that - you’ll do that later, though.

“Hey there.” He chuckles.

His voice… it’s huskier than you’d remembered.

You spoke with him over the phone just yesterday to confirm that tonight was still happening, so why was his voice giving you chills now? It’s deep and smooth and, without the static from the phone audio, it’s actually kind of sexy.

Okay, you’ve got to calm down.

“Hi,” you reply sweetly, tilting your head.

Should you hug him? Just keep standing there? Hopefully, he’s better at filling awkward silence than you are. You’re not bad at handling social situations, but it seems safer to wait for his cues.

Atsumu keeps his hands in his pockets, “Long time, no see.” 

It’s phrased as if you were both old friends reuniting after years of distance. It kind of feels that way too.

“I don’t actually think it’s been that long.” You raise an eyebrow, keeping a straight face.

“It’sa turn of phrase, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

That word sounds so easy on his tongue, damn it.

A few beats pass… and both of you break into grins once again.

But before you can respond, and much to your confusion, Atsumu spins on his feels to face the pathway. The pebbles under his feet shift as he takes a few steps forward.

He turns his head to catch your eye, “Well? C’mon then, let’s walk and talk,” and juts an arm out.

You stare at him for a moment, confused. 

“Are ya gonna leave me hangin’? Atsumu tilts his head back, a coy smile on his lips as though whatever he’s trying to do is ridiculously obvious.

After a few moments of deep contemplation, realization dawns over your features. He’s extending his elbow out… for you? To hold onto?

Oh.

With a slight flush, you step forth and link arms with him. He grins down at you, perfectly resembling a fox you saw in a National Geographic magazine last week. This is a lot closer than you’d anticipated on getting with him; not that you’re complaining.

Although, for someone you’ve only met twice, you feel like you’ve known him for years. 

The few phone calls and those text conversations have given you some insight into his life, but they don’t explain why you two click so well in person. He’s illogically familiar.

You decide not to question the closeness and instead choose to spark a conversation. 

That should be easy enough; after all, he’d promised you dinner, and you were given directions to a park - you’re anything but questionless.

You lean into his side slightly and break the silence, “You smell good.” 

Considering he’s crossed that line with you already, you aren’t too worried about saying it back to him. 

“Thanks, I showered.” He smiles and shrugs as if to brush off your compliment, but you swear you see a fleeting blush on his cheeks.

“Thank God.” You sigh in mock relief, relaxing your shoulders.

He squints, clicking his tongue, “Okay, no need to tease. At least get to know a guy first,” but his voice is void of offense.

“So if I tease you, you won’t take me to dinner?” A curious tone rings in your voice.

“Oh, I will even if ya do. Where do ya think we’re walkin’ to?”

You snort, “Hopefully a restaurant?”

“Bull’s eye.” He winks.

Atsumu looks down at you and you can’t help but smile up at him. Your nerves had melted away like a popsicle under a blazing summer sun; all that’s left is a sweet, melty feeling that has you feeling a little too comfortable.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so trusting. Protecting yourself has been your number one goal since Kenji let you down…

But that doesn’t mean you can’t laugh or get to know Atsumu. 

It just means you need to keep your expectations in check. This may seem like a date, but until he says something, you won’t jump to conclusions. In the meantime, you just need to keep talking. Enjoy it while it lasts and laugh a little.

You nudge his side, “By the way…”

“Hm?”

“What’s with bringing me to a park?”

You’ve been dying to hear this explanation since you arrived. Sure, the atmosphere is perfect; fall weather is notorious for pleasant walks and colorful leaves. However, you’d like to hear his reasoning.

“I thought we could get to know each other better before stuffin’ our faces.”

You make a face, “Well, doesn’t that sound lovely. You sure have a way with words.” 

Atsumu is nothing if not blunt.

He pouts, eyes narrowing, “You gonna make fun of the way I talk now? I’ll have you know, I’ve been mocked enough to last me a life time. I ain’t all that sensitive anymore.”

You laugh and subconsciously tighten your hold on his arm. 

“Alright Mr. Not Sensitive, I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

If you were paying attention to his face, you might’ve seen another flush of pink… but your eyes are squinting from the sun and Atsumu is sure to pull himself together before you can notice it.

“But I do have some important questions for you,” You begin.

Those words are sure to spark fear into anybody. This is confirmed when his arm stiffens ever so slightly and your eyes crinkle in mischief.

He swallows, “Yeah, go for it.”

“Favorite color?”

Atsumu’s eyes flick down to yours, squinting. They seem to say, “important, my ass.”

He instantly loosens, “Easy. Red.” Confidence is clear in his tone.

You nod. You don’t have to know him well to know that the answer suits him. Atsumu is fiery and he’s burned bright in your mind since you met him. If anyone should be allowed to like red, it’s him.

“Favorite food?”

“Mmm…” He furrows his brows in deliberation, “ I gotta say fatty tuna. But my brother makes some killer onigiri, though. I think that’s a close second.”

Your brows shoot up, eyes widening. He’d never mentioned anything about his family before this.

“You have a brother?” You press, leaning in to study his face while trying not to trip over your own two feet.

“Technically, a twin. But I’m the older one...” He huffs, “...and the better lookin’ one.”

Your jaw drops. “I can’t believe you hadn’t mentioned him before this!” 

As an only child, you can only imagine what it’d be like to have a sibling, much less a twin. 

“Well,” Atsumu rolls his eyes at you, “He’s alright…”

It looks like he’s about to change the subject, but one glance at your face is all it takes for him to realize that you want to hear more. Your eyes are sparkling. Full of vibrant curiosity… how could he stop now?

You’re actually interested in him.

“We’re really close actually,” Atsumu clears his throat, straightening up a little. “I mean, he isn’t like me at all. He’s real’ calm in comparison. A great cook. Some people say he’s handsome - but he got the looks from me, y’know?”

You roll your eyes, keeping in stride with him. “Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

“He’s good with the ladies, smart, athletic...” He rambles on. “If he’d just slow down a little, he would probably be married by now...”

You just listen, fully invested in his words. 

It’s nice to hear about family - you haven’t seen your’s in a long time. 

The fondness in Atsumu’s expression seeps through his abbreviated words. 

He looks almost pained as he compliments his twin and amusement flickers in your eyes as you watch it all unfold. You hadn’t asked for a dating profile description of his brother, but you’re not about to shut him up.

“I bet you’d like him. Not as much as you’d like me, of course,” he smirks and your chest tightens. 

The butterflies you’d thought you’d left back in highschool seem to have dusted themselves off and started fluttering again.

“But, yeah. He’s a good guy.”

Atsumu’s free hand then runs through his hair, pushing the waves back. You can see a sudden onset of nerves on his face. He’s quick to hide it though.

“And, uh, just so you know… he may or may not own the restaurant I’m taking you to tonight.”

That’s enough for you plant your feet in place. Atsumu stops as well. 

He’s… taking you to his brother’s restaurant.

You gaze up at him, at a loss for words.

Is his brother going to be there? I mean, it is his place. But meeting his family? Out of the blue, like this? It’s all out of order. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s ever going to give your racing heart a chance to settle.

“Is that too much?” Atsumu is quick to cut in. His voice isn’t gentle… but even with it’s roughness, you can hear something that resembles concern.

“A- ah, no! It’s fine!” You reassure him, “I… I’m happy to go.”

His shoulders drop down again and so do yours.

There’s no point in getting worked up about it. But it’s becoming clear that Atsumu isn’t a very conventional person. Nor is he daunted by sporadic plans. Next time, you’ll ask for a point-by-point itinerary, just to be safe.

Atsumu reveals the name of the restaurant, “Onigiri Miya,” and you find yourself asking more family-related questions as you two dawdle down the pathway…

Which naturally leads to conversations about high-school.

It turns out that he and his twin were on a volleyball team together. Which makes sense. He definitely has the muscle, the height, and the spunk to be an athlete. 

You know shit about the sport, but that doesn’t mean you don’t see the gleam in his eyes when he rattles off a story about one of his old games. It’s been a long time since you last listened to someone speak about something so passionately.

But there’s even more. 

You hear mentions of many boys’ names. 

There’s his brother, Osamu; he mentions their little spats and occasional fist fights. Although he makes sure to clarify that they’re both a lot more level headed nowadays. Next is Atsumu’s upperclassman, Kita; he’s someone Atsumu respects and fears with every inch of his being. Then there’s Suna, Omimi, Aran, and… too many others to count.

Games and nationals and several terms you can’t quite grasp swim through your head as you re-live some of Atsumu’s own memories with him.

His high-school years sound exciting, bright, and funny. Of course, those experiences would create the charming mess that is Atsumu Miya.

After padding under draping treetops, you both finally make it out of the park and onto the sidewalks. 

Restaurants and small shops line the streets and pedestrians cross in groups across the narrow roads. At this point, the sun is loosing its shine, sinking beneath the trees’ branches and ever-darkening buildings. But you, with your phone in your pocket and your arm in his, feel safe. 

Atsumu’s effortlessness and his blunt way of speaking really made for easy conversation. 

But before you can ask him if he still plays volleyball, you find yourself standing in front of a small, bright storefront: “Onigiri Miya.” The words are plastered on a wooden board in white, chalk paint. It’s sleek and cute - if you’d stumbled upon the shop before this, you’d have walked in of your volition.

“I’m thinkin’ I just talked your ear off the whole way here.” Atsumu sighs apologetically.

You shrug, “I guess that just means I’m a good listener.”

In all honestly, you’re glad he rambled. It got rid of your restlessness and calmed your racing thoughts.

He unlinks your arm from his and your side is now exposed to the cold air. It only just hits you how physical that walk had been. Even without a coat, having him at your side had kept you warm and cozy.

How long has it been since you were comfortably side-by-side with someone? It’s been months since you’d been around Kenji… years since you last slept with someone you actually liked… but when was the last time you held a hand or wrapped your arm around someone else’s? 

Atsumu’s words cut into your thoughts, “You’re easy to talk to, but I wanna hear more about you when we get inside.” 

And he’s holding the door open for you, one hand clasped around the handle and the other tucked casually into his pocket. You thank him… he didn’t give you the impression of being “gentlemanly” or whatever that word meant, but you find the gesture to be sweet. 

As you step inside the small restaurant, your senses are overtaken by the smell of freshly cooked rice and an explosion of delicious seasonings. There are bar stools open at the front counter and metal chairs surrounding worn-down wooden tables. The atmosphere is homely and diner-like; as though, no matter how often you actually visited, you would be treated as a regular.

Someone calls out from the back, “C’mon in, I cleared the place out for y’all.”

The voice resembles Atsumu’s style of speech; gruff and straight to the point… but a little smoother. Then you realize what that voice had actually said. There’s nobody else here.

“Alright, we’ll make ourselves at home then. I can take your-”

He scans you for a jacket… that doesn’t exist.

“You didn’t bring a coat.” He says flatly.

You glance down at your outfit, grasping the edge of your sweater and feathering a thumb over its seam.

“I forgot one.” You admit, looking back up to him, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“Nah, I was just gonna offer to take it.”

You hadn’t noticed what he’d been wearing before this, but now that you’re under the soft lighting of the restaurant, you realize he’s dressed up a little. 

Atsumu removes a short, tan coat and places it onto the back of a chair. A black turtleneck sweater is revealed underneath. The fabric outlines his chest and arms in the most unfair way while the dark color pleasantly contrasts his lighter skin tone. 

How hadn’t you noticed how gut-wrenchingly attractive he was before this? 

With how fast things were moving and how comfortable you felt talking to him, you must’ve conveniently glossed over this fact. It’s not like you’d planned on getting to know him.

But now that you do? Well, it doesn’t hurt that he basically has the body of Chris Hemsworth. Atsumu’s definitely not some Walmart version of him though - this boy deserves his own brand of attractiveness.

You swallow hard as your eyes trail his body.

“Like whatcha see?”

You startle, shuffling backward. If you weren’t already out of your element, you sure are now. Caught red-handed (red-eyed?) staring at your not-date. 

“Awh, c’mon I’m joking - take a seat,” Atsumu pulls a chair out for you, cringing when it lets out a shrill squeak on the floor. The sound rings through the air and you find yourself laughing.

In a swift motion, you jump up and onto the chair.

He slides the chair back toward the bar counter, except this time you both expect the screeching of the chair’s legs. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard, but it’s perfect for loosening up any tightness in the airspace. This time, it’s his turn to chuckle.

He mutters out a quick, “Sorry,” but you just shake your head, amused.

Snagging his own chair, and this time lifting it off of the ground to avoid bursting another eardrum, Atsumu slides up next to you.

You lean on the counter, a hand propping up your cheek. “That was very smooth, Atsumu.”

“Thanks,” he rolls his eyes, “I try.”

“‘Tsumu? Smooth? Yeah, right,” that same voice travels from the kitchen to the front of the store.

Footsteps are soon to follow it and you’re greeted by Chris Hemsworth 2.0. Maybe you should refer to him as Liam Hemsworth? Nope, Osamu, you quickly decide, is also his own genre of attractive.

Although Osamu is dressed in a simple, black “Onigiri Miya” t-shirt and cap, he could probably be a Calvin Klein model. For someone who owns a restaurant, his muscle tone is absolute perfection - these brothers are really something. 

And their resemblance of each other, though twins, is almost uncanny. You thank some unknown force that hair-dye exists, because if you saw them from a distance, you may not be able to tell them apart.

“Ah, shaddup. You’re just sayin’ that cuz you’re jealous,” the blonde snorts.

“Jealous of what? Your shit attempts at flirtin’?”

“That’s below the belt, ‘Samu. Don’t be such an ass.”

‘Tsumu? ‘Samu? That’s cute, you chuckle to yourself. Of course, these guys would have nicknames for each other. It was common sense.

You sit back as they bicker, wondering who must’ve raised these 6-foot chaotic giants. You’d love to meet them just to give them a medal and a bouquet of flowers for putting up with them. They must’ve dealt with so much bullshit.

“I could say the same to you. Ya haven’t properly introduced me yet.” He nods his head toward you, cool-grey eyes warming up when they meet yours.

Your lips quirk into a smile and before you know it, you’ve introduced yourself. 

He copies your smile, though it’s much softer than your own, and begins his own little introduction; although you’re sure that, with all the information Atsumu has already listed off to you, you don’t really need one.

“I’m Miya Osamu, but that’s probably obvious by now,” he adjusts his cap, “Callin’ me Miya would be confusin’ for all of us, so just Osamu’s fine.”

He’s polite and carries himself confidently, but his voice is a little softer than Atsumu’s. Or, it is when he’s speaking to you. There’s a brotherly gentleness to his tone and it relaxes you instantly.

“Please keep in mind that I’m the better twin,” Atsumu adds, shooting daggers at his brother.

Osamu shoots them right back, but you don’t fail to notice the playful fondness behind their eyes. You can almost picture them as kids, with band-aids on their knees and mud on their clothes. They make it seem like being twins meant having a built-in best friend.

Their closeness is overwhelming. 

There’s a warmth in the atmosphere, and you’re positive that it’s not just because something’s cooking in the kitchen. It feels special, just being allowed to sit and watch them banter. 

And the fact that Atsumu is sharing this with you?

Well, you’re counting yourself very lucky to be here right now.

[alabasterswriting]

A Thousand Answers

Because I need more Anakin and Leia content, and I will fill that tag with my own two hands if I have to.

You can find it in AO3 format here, if you prefer that:)

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She calls to him just once, reaching into the Force with the hesitance of a child and the determination of a grieving mother, and his response is immediate. Standing before her, a shimmering blue spectre of the past. He waits, giving her the courtesy of control. It’s kinder than the one he gave her in life.

He’s not what she expected, achingly young and handsome instead of the blackened monster of her nightmares. She’s not sure whether it helps or not, to see what was. The man she came from instead of the beast she knew. She supposes it doesn’t matter. A fresh body does not a fresh start make, and she doesn’t intend to give him that start. Not yet. Maybe not ever. She’s not the forgiving type and she has the feeling neither is he.

She hates the similarity, but it makes it easier. They know where they stand.

“I have a question for you,” she says. Her gaze rests on the horizon, unable to look at this man who looks so much like her brother and her son, with her chin and her countenance.

He tilts his head, the Force rippling around her with the sensation. “I figured you might.”

Yes, he did, didn’t he? He knew what happened. What she’s lost. How could he not? The dead see all, and all that philosophical shit that never did her any good. “I have tried, for weeks now, to figure out what I did wrong. How I could have made a difference,” so that I didn’t lose him. “And I realized, that no matter what I did, nothing made any sense. I couldn’t change anything because I didn’t even know anything was wrong and I just—” she stops. Swallows her words. Pushes the deluge of emotions to the side and takes a breath. She’s rambling. Rambling to a monster, a man she despises; calling out to a beast for the comfort a father should give to his daughter and hating it.

She takes another breath. A question, she has one question and that’s it. “I need to know. What was it for you? What happened to you? I couldn’t help him, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help you, and I’ll be damned if someone else ever has to face this ugly pit I’ve found myself clawing through. So tell me. What was it that happened in your life that was so bad you turned yourself into a monster?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Mulling it over, perhaps. Or maybe trying to find all the problems he’d faced and gift it to her as an excuse. She wonders if she’ll buy it. If it will somehow fill the black hole that’s mawed through her chest and give her some semblance of comfort.

How far she’s fallen. Looking for comfort from a monster.

He shifts above her. He’s too tall and she’s too short, and sitting on the ground gives her no favors in this regard, but the Force paints a picture in her mind of his movements as he drifts along the physical world to sit beside her. He’s not close. He wants to be, but he knows she wouldn’t appreciate it. They’re too alike and she knows that down to her marrow.

It’s a comfort that she doesn’t want, but takes anyway. A monster remembering his humanity.

“Do you want the truth, or a history lesson?” He asks. His voice is soft and boyish, so different from the booming mechanical bark in her memories.

She snorts. “I never liked history. It’s biased and painted over far too often by victors looking to rationalize their crimes.”

He nods. She can feel it like a warm breeze against her cheek. “True. We share that sentiment.”

“And yet you did it anyway.”

He shrugs. “As did you. History is written by the victors and you are a victor.”

“Your answer,” she states, because their victories were not the same and his history a figment of a blackened mind.

He stares at her. It prickles the hair along her neck and pulls her in until her gaze has drifted from blue skies to blue eyes. They’re electric and sad and commanding from one General to another. “My answer? I could give you a thousand answers, Leia, and none of them would be enough. There are no explanations I can give that would give you the answer you want, and there are not enough reasons in the galaxy to excuse what I did.”

“Then why? If there are no reasons, then why? Why did he—” no. 

“I said that there were no reasons to excuse it, not that there were not reasons at all.” He leans in and she despises how much comfort it brings her. How warm he feels in the Force, for all that it soothes her because if a monster like Darth Vader can be that warm then surely there’s hope. “But I made a choice, Leia. I did. Not Obi-Wan. Not your mother. Not the Jedi or Palpatine. Me. Just as your son made his choice. Whatever part you played in his reasons are not an excuse for his actions, and wherever he goes from here are up to him.”

She swallows. It’s acid in her throat and a pressure behind her eyes. She hates how he can pick her apart to find the truths she hides from herself. The blame she’s trying to place. She searches his face for something -- anything that she can grab hold of and use to pull herself up from the depths she’s fallen into. “Can he come back? Like you?”

He smiles. It looks like Luke. It looks like her. It looks like her son. “Anyone can come back. It’s just a matter of wanting to.”

“And if he doesn’t want to?”

“Then that’s his choice.” He raises his hand to brush aside the tear on her cheek, before thinking better of it and bringing to his lap. She’s not sure why that hurts. “You can’t make his choices for him.”

“Then what can I do?”

“Fight. Hope. Keep him in your heart and remember who he was even when he forgets, then get up and move forward. You can’t go back, Leia, and you can’t force him to be someone he doesn’t want to be.”

Her throat is scraped raw as she says, “It hurts.”

“It does. But if there’s anything I know about you, it’s that you don’t give up when there’s still work to do.”

“Learn that from the Force, did you?”

He smirks. It’s lopsided and reminds her of a puppy. “Actually, I learned that from a young girl who lied to my face after being caught blatantly performing treason.”

“Yes, well, treason seems to be my middle name.”

“Hm, Leia Treason Organa. Catchy.”

“Fits better than Leia Amidala Skywalker.”

“I don’t know. I’m quite partial to that one.”

“You don’t get to be partial to it. She doesn’t exist.”

“No, I guess she doesn’t,” and it aches, somewhere inside her and inside the Force that that’s true. But the Force isn’t kind, and neither is the past, and Leia Organa has never had the luxury.

“Your mother would be proud, at least. Both of them.”

Her mother, the Queen of Alderaan, who wiped away tears and taught her strength, and her mother, the Queen of Naboo, who loved her despite never knowing her.

“And my father?”

He smirks. It’s sad, twisted with the knowledge of where they stand. “Immeasurably.”

“I don’t mean you.”

“I know.”

But he is. And she did. A little. She’ll give him this, and allow herself the fantasy.

Leia Organa does not spend long in fantasies. She shutters her gaze and pulls back. “Will you help him, then, while I’m off committing treason? Talk to him, or whatever it is dead people do in the Force.”

“I can’t talk to him, Leia. He won’t listen.”

“He might.” She’s not a fool. She knows how her son took Darth Vader into his mind and twisted him into an ideal to strive for. He may not listen to her, with all that hatred and resentment she still doesn’t understand, but he may for a man he thinks he wants to be. “He idolizes you. He wants to be you. And I hate you, but I love him, and if a man like you can come back, then maybe he can too.”

“He has to want it first.”

“So tell him that. Make him want it.”

“Not quite how it works.”

“Luke made you.”

“Luke was a catalyst,” the ghost stresses. “But wanting, Leia. No one can make you want it, except yourself. Because wanting it means accepting you were wrong. It means accepting that all your rationalizations were just that. I means taking responsibility for what you’ve done, and that is significantly harder than just deciding to be good. It’s seeing what you were capable of, taking in all that horror and monstrosity, and accepting it. No one can make him do that, Leia. Not even me.”

“He idolizes you.” “He idolizes my mistakes. He idolizes my shame and horror and regrets. He doesn’t want Anakin Skywalker. He wants Darth Vader, and one does not exist without the other.”

And her son will not accept that. The knowledge stomps the pieces of her heart into powdered glass and she turns away. “So you can do nothing. You are just as powerless as I.”

For once. For the first time. The one time she wants him omnipotent and he’s all too human.

He nods, despondent, with her heartbreak in his eyes. “I can watch him for you. I can be a hand on his shoulder. But I can no more bring back your son than Obi-Wan could bring back me.”

“He has to do that himself.”

“Yes.”

She nods once, pulling together the shavings of her heart and gluing them together. It’s depressing how good she’s gotten at doing so. “I understand. Watch him, then. If no one else can, then...watch him.” Care for him, she wants to say. Love him. No one else will at this point and he will not let her in to do so. 

He softens. The Force of him wraps her in a warm blanket and she thinks he understands what she can’t say. “I will.”

I’ll care for him, she hears. I’ll love him, until he lets you back in to do it yourself. 

A promise of love from a monster shouldn’t bring her such peace, but if her family is to be made up of monsters and men and gods, then perhaps it’s time she learned to embrace it. She’s spent her whole life running from him and his legacy, and it’s only brought her pain.

Leia bows her head. Not forgiveness, not benediction, not even acceptance, but a chance. Recognition for the man he was and the man he’s trying to be again. “Thank you, Master Skywalker.”

Anakin smiles, like a puppy that has since grown old, and returns the gesture. “Always, Master Organa.”

And he’s gone, as if he was never there in the first place. A hole in her life. But the Force is warm around her, waiting for her to reach out again. She’s not sure she will. She’s not sure she wants to. But the choice is nice.

An olive branch should she ever decide to take it.

Around her, the world pulls back into focus. Naboo roses, fragrant and sweet, waft in from the garden and the crystal waters glimmer under the sunlight. It’ll be dark soon. Already, the air is beginning to chill.

She gets up, picking up her skirts and ambling back inside. There’s work to do and an uncertain future ahead.

Her son made his choices. It’s time she made hers.

[emilyoftheshadows]

Deja Vu

Hi! so this is a one-shot based off of olivia rodrigo's new song deja vu. It took a little longer than I thought to write, but here it is in all its questionable glory. Of course it is rowaelin because what else endgame couple would I write lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

wordcount// 1838

*****

Aelin felt sick to her stomach as she stared at her phone. The bright screen illuminated the disarray she had created around her. The bed covers were thrown recklessly around Aelin’s mattress, a package of half eaten oreos shoved between the twisted sheets. Bottles of alcohol were towered on the floor and nightstand, creating a maze that she had to maneuver around every time she left the softness of her bed. Tears stained Aelin 's cheeks, the sadness inside of her spilling out everytime she even thought of him. How his touch felt on her skin or how his lips used to kiss her forehead in comfort.

But all of that was over for her. Because he didn’t need her. Her love and her own problems only held him back, and Aelin knew it. She was a stain in Rowan’s perfect new life, and she would die before she let herself be the reason for any sadness he experienced.

So here she was, 6 months and 9 days after she had broken up with him. His face had been scrunched up in confusion, his emerald eyes glistening with tears as she had said her goodbyes. Aelin knew the breakup had hit him hard, but she consoled herself with the thought that once he got over their relationship, he would be free to live his dreams. Aelin would no longer be the unnecessary tether holding him back from his full potential.

Rowan had moved soon after the couple had ended university, taking a high end job at Maeve’s Publishing Co. in Doranelle. He had met his people, The Cadre as they were known to the locals. Working with his new team, Rowan had formed an unbreakable bond with the men he spent so much of his time with. As much as Rowan had found his new home in Doranelle, the opposite could be said for Aelin.

She had opted to stay in Rifthold, accepting her own high end job at Hamel Hotels working as their Brand Manager. At first, the glitz of the hotels and fast paced life had been exhilarating. That was until she had learned her boss was a demanding misogynist and occupied her time with insane projects and endless demands.

Her sour demeanor matched Rowan's exuberance head for head, and every visit she could see the concern etched in that beautiful face deepen with time. But when she went to visit Rowan in Doranelle, all Aelin saw was a makeshift family that he would have forever. The Cadre was working their way up in the publishing world, becoming an unstoppable force and you could practically feel the excitement buzzing throughout Rowan.

It was then when he was surrounded by his men eager for their future, that Aelin knew that she was a distraction. A miserable self loathing girlfriend who was holding him back from immersing himself into this new opportunity. So she took herself out of the picture, doing whatever was necessary to make sure he moved on from her.

She stopped answering his texts, let his endless calls go to voicemail, and unfollowed him on every social media site she had. After the third month, he finally stopped calling her everyday. The month after that, he stopped texting her. Although Aelin wanted this, she couldn’t help but be sad when she stopped getting his streams of i miss yous and hearts.

Aelin had gotten herself a dog after the breakup, focusing all her misguided love and intentions into the white beast that ate all her shoes and furniture. Using his pictures, she made an account for him and used this new anonymous account to stalk Rowan and his Cadre, plus the girl that used to occasionally join the men on their outings. Lyria was Maeve’s assistant and had been through just as much hell as they did, dealing with their bosses' incessant needs. Because of this, the crew often invited her out to the bars as a way to unwind from long days of work, sharing funny mishaps and complaining about Maeve together.

She told herself it was just to check up on him, to make sure he was okay, but she knew deep down that she could never fully separate herself from Rowan. This account was her only link to him, and as shady as it was, Aelin would be damned before she ever gave up the chance to get a glimpse into his life.

But as she focused on her phone, all previous thoughts for Rowan’s wellbeing flew out of her head. Because on Fleetfoot’s instagram feed, Lyria had posted a picture. The scene was innocent enough to any other person looking at it. She sat outside, the sun filtering in through the trees in the background of the photo. On the small table in front of her sat one cup of strawberry ice cream, a spoon poking out of the top of the scoop creating the picture perfect image. Her delicate hand with its perfectly manicured fingers grasped a tan hand almost twice the size of hers, emphasizing her petite features.

But that hand is what stopped Aelin in her tracks. Because as she looked at the post again, that hand led her to the face she adored most in the world. All too fast, she was consumed by his emerald green eyes, a hint of mischief shining in their center. His silver hair reflected the light around him, giving Rowan an ethereal glow as he posed for the camera. Other than slight dark circles under his eyes, he looked perfectly content. A soft smile graced his features and his clothes showed no clear stains or rumpled appearance.

Rowan was okay. He was absolutely fine. And Aelin was not.

Because whether he realized it or not, Rowan had recreated their own first date. As awkward college freshmen, the couple had gone to a family owned ice cream shop run by a friendly old man Emrys. They would return to that ice cream shop at least once a week after that first date, getting to know the owner and his partner Malaki. They had gotten strawberry ice cream, and Rowan had only asked for one spoon, insisting that he could just feed her himself whenever she wanted a bite. The buzzard didn’t even like sweets as much as she did, only wanting to make her suffer. They had sat on a bench outside the restaurant, laughing at how silly they both were and enjoying their newfound relationship. That memory used to always bring a smile to Aelin’s face, causing nostalgia for a simpler time in their lives. Looking at this recreation on her phone though, all Aelin wanted to do was scream in his face for how careless he was with their past.

That moment should belong to them, and them only. Her vision became blurred with tears, the image of his face distorting in front of her. All she could feel was a pit opening up inside her, clawing its way through her body until all she felt was numb. Her tears stopped running down her face, her hands stopped shaking, and she could finally breathe again. But Aelin no longer felt heartbroken for the bird boy who had made her dreams come true. No, all she felt was curiosity. A curiosity for whether or not he got deja vu when he was with her.

---

Rowan sat on his couch, staring at the photo in front of him. He had gotten back from his date with Lyria a couple of hours ago, guilt crashing over him every time he looked at her. Because Lyria wasn’t the woman that made his heart soar or his bones ache when he wasn’t near her. No, that feeling only belonged to his fireheart. The woman who could apparently no longer stand his presence in her life.

Aelin had broken up with him abruptly, pushing him away when he knew she needed him the most. Rowan wasn’t blind, he could see how unhappy she was in Rifthold. Arobynn Hamel was a pervert at best and Aelin deserved to have something or someone good in her life. And he thought he could be that someone, he really did. Rowan had already put in his two week notice to Maeve with hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket. He would do anything to make Aelin happy, and nothing would ruin them, not even the job of his dreams.

But apparently, they weren’t on the same page. Because when he had gone to visit her in Rifthold, ready to offer his life to her, she had crushed his spirits in less than 5 minutes. He had flown back home, but Rowan never figured out why she felt the urge to end their relationship. The lack of closure and the loss of the other half of his soul led him to ruins. For months he texted and called everyday, hoping that she would open up to him about her pain. But Aelin never answered. And she never texted. Next thing Rowan knew, he had stopped trying all together.

The Cadre did all they could to comfort him, but none of them were even close to understanding the aching pain he felt in his heart everyday. Lyria was the only one who could stand his somber demeanor, choosing to spend her breaks near his desk and chit chatting about office gossip during the slow days. At first, the distraction had been nice. But somewhere along the line, Lyria had become more serious about Rowan than he cared to admit.

Now here he was, with an almost-kind-of-talking-maybe-dating situationship that he didn’t understand even started. He mistook her friendliness for just that--friendship. But he also hadn’t stopped her. Deep down, Rowan knew that he was using Lyria, but he couldn’t help but keep the facade going on. Because if he was left alone again, Rowan didn’t think he would ever leave his apartment.

The nights were the worst, where he was alone with his endless thoughts, his regrets, his tears. The past 6 months had been rough, and if this was how he had to pick himself up again then so be it. Aelin sure as hell didn’t want him anymore and Rowan had to come to terms with it whether he liked it or not.

But still, sitting with his phone propped up in his hand, staring at his own face and the scoop of light pink ice cream in front of him, Rowan’s mind wandered to a simpler time. A time where they would be on a bench outside their infamous ice cream spot instead of the random ice cream parlor downtown. A time where Rowan’s eyes would be shining brighter staring into the deepest blue he had ever seen. A time where his fireheart would be taking that picture instead of the woman he strung along like a puppy dog.

Imagining his own heaven in his head combined with the bitter reality around him, Rowan felt a momentary sense of deja vu.

*****

Tag list 

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading  

@live-the-fangirl-life

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 20: Koi Hitoyo

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Time to commit a little B&E, no big deal... probably.

This chapter is a bit longer than the others, had fun with it tho. Been crunching w/ writing to try and get enough written before I go out of town next week. Should keep me sane while I'm traveling, hopefully! Also all the titles for the Lao chapters (except blackout) are acid black cherry songs. They were my vibe for this part. Back to Liu on Thursday. Miss that guy.

Part 19 Part 21 Chapter Index

Kung Lao carefully shook your shoulder to wake you up. You fluttered your eyes open and wiped the sleepiness out of them. The sky was dark, and the stars were remarkably bright. You admired the way they twinkled, and the subtlety of the colors sprinkled throughout the darkness. You felt a little guilty for falling asleep but also felt much better. Apparently, you’d been exhausted.

“The coast is clear, I think.” Kung Lao whispered. The sneaking had already begun. The silence of the night was overwhelming, and it felt odd to break it. “The rest of the visitors left a little bit after you fell asleep. There’s been no sound or light since then. They put out the lanterns and all is still.”

“Did I sleep too long? I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“I can be emotionally draining, I’m told, so I figured you needed it.” He shrugged and you nudged him as you had grown to do affectionately. He looked tired, too. Even if he said it was fine, you felt bad for falling asleep. He could have easily woken you up, though. It had been nice of him to let you rest. The confusion that had overwhelmed you earlier could be put aside for the time being. You had work to do. A goal to focus on.

“They didn’t even close the gate.” You felt suddenly guilty about this too. Breaking into a sacred place felt wrong but you had to get whatever it was that creature had hidden in the well. If you had just talked to the monks about this like you’d wanted to then you would have likely had permission to take a look but no. Instead, you’d gone with elaborate fake date ruse.

“I don’t imagine they expect to be robbed.”

“Please don’t phrase it that way.”

“I don’t imagine they expect to be respectfully intruded upon.”

“Better.”

Kung Lao’s high spirits helped your mood. You really did enjoy spending time with him even if he drove you completely up the wall. You snuck back inside the gates and Kung Lao slipped an arm around your waist very suddenly.

“Don’t panic.”

“I wasn’t going to, but you do know the fake date portion of this adventure is over, right?”

“I’m just going to get us a bit closer. Lots of flat ground to cover. Easily spotted.” He took his hat off and threw it toward the shrine where it whizzed through the air. Then with a flicker of motion, you felt the floor open beneath you and you were consumed by white light and fell. You closed your eyes tight and when you opened them again, you were popping back up out of the ground with a leap. Kung Lao had jumped right back into his hat. He released your and tucked the strap back beneath his chin. You watched him for a moment with reverence. That was awesome. If you could travel like that then you would never stop. Remarkable. You’d traveled by both lightning and hat today.

You walked up the steps to the shrine, careful to be as quiet as possible. Kung Lao pushed the doors open and winced. They hadn’t locked it. This felt wrong, incredibly morally wrong. You had to remind yourself that whatever that wicked man had hidden there, he had done so with malintent. Removing it would be a good thing for them and the shrine.

There was nary a soul in sight even as you sat and listened within the entry room. There were no footsteps beyond, not even a single candle was lit within. The monks, if they were still awake, were much further within the shrine, leaving this area to them. You slid the door to the next room open. The central corridor. It made the pit in your stomach open back up.

When you closed your eyes, you tried to recall the vision without allowing it to consume you. You blindly grasped for Kung Lao’s hand which he offered you. Then you walked to the point where you recalled the creature walking to before he’d placed the mysterious ringing something into the well. The ground beneath the man was dirt. It seemed so obvious now that it had been built over.

The ringing in your vision began and so you opened your eyes to be free of it. Kung Lao had let you take the lead but had stayed at your side. You were standing right before the dip in the floor that had been cleared out for the evening. There had been a kotatsu there earlier. Now it was just wooden floorboards, and a few rolled up tatami mats.

Kung Lao let go of your hand and then stepped into the dip and crouched, brushing his fingers over the seams in the wood. His fingertips caught a circular latch, and he pulled a sizable hatch upward. You walked around the hatch and helped him set the lid back quietly. You waited for any sign of movement in the corridors branching off but you were utterly alone.

“You’re not gonna like this.” Kung Lao leapt into the hatch. You joined him and sighed. More wooden flooring. Great.

“Well, at least it’ll be an easy fix?” You shrugged. Kung Lao nodded. You appreciated that you were working together to try and justify your actions. Together you pried up the floorboards one at a time, careful of the sound it made. Sure enough, just beneath the boards, was an old, short stone well. It reminded you of something from a horror movie. Worse than that, the air felt wrong. You got the worst feeling in your stomach. Kung Lao shivered as if he could sense something too. You cleared the area of boards and then stepped together onto the dirt surrounding the well. “This is it.” The words made you shiver as they left your mouth.

“It doesn’t look terribly deep. I can see the bottom from here. Little bit of water though which will be gross.”

“I’ll do it. This was my vision.”

“No, you’re too short.” He tapped the top of your head playfully.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m going to have to insist that you don’t go into the spooky well after almost throwing yourself into the blood lake. Too many horror movie things happening to you today.”

“I can’t argue with you on that.”

Kung Lao grasped the side of the well and then lowered himself inside. He made a face of disgust as his feet slapped into the water, but it barely went up to his ankle. The well was only a little bit taller than he was, thankfully. He could very easily pull himself out of if something went wrong.

He crouched and searched the water. You were grateful that it wasn’t you down there. “I found something” With a heave he pulled it free of the mud. “Heavier than I expected it to be.” He lifted an old, wet, bronze bell about a foot in length. It had intricate carvings all along the sides but was so covered with muck that you couldn’t make any of them out. Kung Lao held it out for you to take. You did and then Kung Lao grasped the edge of the well and began to pull himself up.

But when you picked up the bell there was a hollow, sad ringing. Silence fell very suddenly and quickly, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. You and Kung Lao had just enough time to exchange a worried glance before there was an earsplitting pop and you were both thrown from the well and the hole that you’d made in the floor. You ducked low and managed to roll back only a few feet from the well, but Kung Lao was thrown ass over tea kettle right through the door that you’d carefully slid closed on your way in.

“Lao!” You shouted but didn’t turn away from the well, holding the bell tight to you.

“I’m okay!” He yelled from somewhere behind you.

There was a sticky sounding thud and you dared to get to your feet and peer over the edge of the dip in the floor and to the well. A huge hand with four claws grasped the side of the well, followed by another. The creature that followed was dripping in something sticky, thick, and brown. It smelled like tar. With a spit-slinging roar, it swung its arms wildly and the tar shifted and stretched before becoming hooked swords that the creature grasped. Oh. A monster. Was this really happening?

“Kung Lao?” You said nervously. “It’s got shang gou!” There was no more sneaking. Clutching the bell, you stepped back cautiously and braced yourself to be ready to dodge. The creature leapt out of the hole and landed with another roar. You leapt out of its range as it sliced toward you. It leapt over you and you ducked and rolled as the blades crashed into the wooden floor behind you. The bell was cradled against your chest. You yelped as the creature smashed its foot into the ground, destroying the wood beneath it and sending you rattling to the side.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

You just had to fight a huge tar monster without any hands.

Great.

You ducked beneath the blades as they swung at you again and then kicked the creature but it grasped your foot and lifted you into the air, throwing you clear to the back of the room. You crashed into the wood and smacked onto the floor with a wheeze. The wind was knocked out of you but what was worse was the ringing of the bell.

It rang and rang and rang and it hurt your ears terribly. You shouted to try and drown out the sound but nothing you did helped. You forced yourself to your feet and found that the bell had not only hurt your ears but across the way, Kung Lao was crouched, holding his ears and the tar creature was swatting the air arounds its head to try and chase off the sound.

The ringing began to fade, and you could get up. Your ears felt like they were bleeding. You grasped the clapper within the bell to keep it from ringing again. Then you circled around the creature to get a better angle at it. Kung Lao threw his hat and the blade sliced clean through the creature’s arm and it howled in agony. The hat returned to him, and he twisted and slipped it back on his head then fluidly changed stances and waited for his next opportunity to strike.

As he rushed the creature with a flip through the air, the arm he’d cut off had been replaced with a stretch of tar. Kung Lao ducked but was knocked back and then grabbed and thrown again through the doors to the entryway, through the front door and outside. If you hadn’t been worried about him then you might have laughed.

You hurried past the creature, bell clutched close and tried to rush to his aid. The creature grasped at you, then swung its one remaining blade. You rolled beneath its grasp and tucked the bell beneath your arm and shook out your right hand. You could do this, you just had to not overthink it. Much to your surprise, as if drawing a line with a quill, there was a swell of ink and the jian appeared in your right hand. You swung it at the ready and turned toward the creature, bracing yourself.

It roared again and rushed toward you with its remaining blade. You knocked the blade to the side and twirled out of the way before slicing through the creature’s stomach. Tar bubbled out of the wound and dripped onto the floor in piles of sludge, but the creature wasn’t slowed. You ducked beneath its swing and when you struck again the creature grasped your blade and pulled you closer, your feet sliding against the floor like it was nothing.

The creature yelled in your face and with a yell back, you pulled the blade through its flesh but it swung and backhanded you so hard that you were thrown back. You rolled back to your feet but the creature jumped just in front of you and you lost your balance and kept your desperate grasp on the bell and your jian.

You leapt back but were grabbed around the throat and lifted off your feet. The jian abandoned you and you grasped at the tarry hand to try and pull free. The smell was horrendous and the bell was ringing, muted, beneath your arm. You thrashed and kicked, trying to twist at pressure points, but the creature wasn’t weak the way that people would usually be. Your vision blurred and spots formed before your eyes. You tried to will anything to come of your arcana, anything. Liu had said he thought you could perform mimicry. This would have been a great time for that hat to come whizzing by to save you but there was no sign of Kung Lao.

Shit! Was he okay? You lifted the bell enough to let it free and cried out in agony at the sound. The creature hashed its maw and swung its free hand to try and rid itself of it. The ringing was horrible and if you didn’t get away soon, you were going to pass out.

Then something tore through the creature’s arm, black and spinning. You fell to the ground with a thud and the hand dripped into a pile of ooze. You scooted back, ears still ringing as you stopped the clapper inside the bell to silence it. You scrambled to your feet and tore the sash around your waist before hastily wrapping it around the clapper to keep it from ringing again.

You stumbled back, still struggling for breath, throat sore but the something that had cut through the arm of the creature now stood in front of you.

Your eyes went wide and you stared, dumbfounded.

Kung Lao.

Except it wasn’t Kung Lao.

You’d made him out of ink and it had saved you. The ink Lao swung his hat deftly and kept the creature at bay in front of you. How had you done it? That was definitely your arcana but it moved with a mind of its own, in a way that was incredibly familiar to you. You had manifested a creature who could mimic what you knew of Kung Lao which was far more Wing Chun than you’d expected. You mentally thanked your father for that.

You backed up with the bell and let the ink construct keep the creature at bay as it tried to get to you. The room had been torn to shreds. Walls ruined, floor cracked. It looked like a tornado had blown through it. You went to search of Kung Lao but he came to you before you got far, right through the floor, twisting with his hat in a haze of white light. He readied his stance but stopped in surprise at the sight of a shadow of him fighting the beast. He turned toward you and you saw blood dripping down the side of his face but he also looked impressed.

“Huh.” He didn’t wait long to jump back in the fray, fighting alongside his shadow self which you allowed to cooperate with him. Or at least you hoped you did. You weren’t familiar with this yet.

You backed up, bell still in your arms and willed the ink to duck and move and found that you could take control of it to better cooperate with Kung Lao. The tar creature was smashing wildly throughout the shrine, jumping at them, and slashing with its remaining sword. Both versions of Kung Lao were fighting deftly against the monster, and you couldn’t help but think that it was just like a scene out of one of those movies you loved.

The ink Kung Lao was grabbed by the creature, but it was enough of a distraction for the real Kung Lao. He kicked the creature back and the ink version escaped and swept the creature’s feet from beneath it. With a deft spin through the air, hat in hand, Kung Lao sliced the creature across its middle and leapt over its head. The ink lifted the creature and threw it back toward the well.

In a spray of light, Kung Lao had teleported to where the creature landed and with a throw and a flourish, his hat tore through the tar monster and exploded out the other side. The creature couldn’t keep up with them both and stumbled between attack after attack. Then it crumbled into a bubbling heap, losing all form. Holding onto the ink form of Kung Lao was exhausting but you did it, making it back up in case the creature took form again.

But it didn’t, instead it swelled and spread, pulsing, throbbing as though a horrible heart lay beneath it. You released your arcana as Kung Lao looked back to you with sudden urgency.

“Run.” He shouted and started toward you. “Run!” He disappeared in a spray of light as you turned to run and emerged right behind you. He grabbed you but you didn’t get to disappear with his magic before the tarry remains of the monster that had protected the bell exploded in a brilliant blast and a spray of tar. You were thrown with such force that you were blown through the remains of the doors and down the steps of the shrine and onto the stone pathway.

You rolled to a stop on the stone, Kung Lao lying on top of you. Tar rained from the sky, splattering you and the surrounding path. You cradled the bell beneath your arm and stared back at the shrine as if waiting for the creature to come after you again but nothing did. You leaned your head back on the stone with a thud.

“You okay?” Kung Lao was out of breath and scraped up all to hell. The cut on his forehead was swollen and bleeding freely. His sleeve and side had been torn to shreds. He had been thrown through several doors, you supposed.

“Yeah.” You laughed in disbelief. “You? You look… worse for wear.”

“I’m okay, I think? Blood is dripping into my eye which is annoying.” His eye was bloodshot and irritated. You wiped the blood away from his forehead carefully with your sleeve, redirecting the flow of it down the side of his face. “Thanks. Is it bad?”

“No. Looks worse than it is.”

He relaxed on top of you and set his hat to the side, resting his forehead against your shoulder with a grunt. “Did you make me out of ink?”

“It appears that yes, yes I did.”

“How?”

“That is a good and interesting question that I do not have the answer to.”

“Why me? Of all things?” He turned his gaze to the shrine as though worried that thing would come after you again. You had a feeling that it was gone.

“I don’t know. I panicked and realized you weren’t there so… and then you were there except I had made you?”

Kung Lao watched you and you felt suddenly nervous that you’d made him out of ink. You hadn’t thought about it. You hadn’t even considered that you could do anything that dramatic with your arcana! You’d just been grateful that something had knocked you free of that thing’s choking grasp. You had expected him to tease you or taunt you for choosing him to come to your rescue but instead his scraped hand engulfed your cheek and he kissed you. Passionately at that.

You dropped the bell and it thankfully didn’t ring. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders without thinking. Even though he tasted both like blood and sulfur, his lips also felt wonderful. You had so much adrenaline pumping through you after everything, there was no listening to the inner-voice that screamed you had promised to stop kissing them. You laughed against his lips, feeling the split in the bottom of your lower lip. It stung against his lips but you wouldn’t stop him, not for the world.

His hand gripped at the sash on your side, the other lost in your hair and you widened your mouth to invite a much more intimate kiss. Fingers at your side, he adjusted so his knees were on either side of you, straddling you and then suddenly he stopped.

There were feet next to you and suddenly you could hear the rushing of many other feet too.

“Is everyone okay?” The monk next to you yelled and Kung Lao pushed up on his hand, turning to look at the one closest to you.

You turned your gaze too. There were monks running from the other half of the shrine, rushing into the room that you had more than desecrated. You had destroyed it. Standing next to you was none other than the monk who had caught you earlier in the central room. Great. That wasn’t awkward at all.

“What happened here? Are you okay?” It was remarkable that he cared about your wellbeing.

You laughed nervously and looked to Kung Lao who had smoothed his lips out into a thin line. Monks were running past you to assess the damage. The monk offered Kung Lao a hand to help him up which he took. “We were uh… making out?” You gritted your teeth as you leaned up on your elbows. Kung Lao laughed, bending over with his hands on his knees. Even the monk laughed with you. Kung Lao then offered you his hand and you took it and stood, picking up the bell as you went. The monk was looking to you expectantly for the real story of what had happened.

“First of all, we’re sorry.” Kung Lao dusted off your shoulder and you swatted his hand away. There was a scrape on your forearm and your lip was bleeding but otherwise you thought you were okay. Your neck would probably be bruised. All things considered, it could have gone worse. “This is a long story…” You were grateful for Kung Lao’s charm as he explained to the monks why you had come there, sent by Lord Raiden from the Shaolin Order of Light in search of a hidden object they believed to be in their temple. You’d tried not to disturb anyone but the chaos that had come with finding the object was something that took you by surprise.

He said it in a very engaging and interesting way, but you tuned in and out of it. You knew the story and your ears were still throbbing after tangling with the bell. It was soothing to listen to Kung Lao talk and even more so to hear the truth even if he was vague with private details concerning your reasons.

You held out the bell for the monks to examine but none of them seemed eager to touch it. “We have sensed evil here for years. It has been written about in our logs for centuries. We have searched for the source and cleansed often but the evil has persisted. I believe that this is the source of it.” You exchanged a knowing look with Kung Lao. You were suddenly uncomfortable holding the bell. “This dotaku has a heavy curse upon it.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad that I’m holding it.”

Several monks came to you and set down a few cloths, doused in water. They instructed you to set down the bell in the center and then wrapped it up, leaving your torn sash around the clapper. They tucked some of the cloth into the hollow part of the bell. Then they prayed around it before offering it back to you.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“We will rebuild. It is worth it to have gotten rid of the curse lying beneath our temple. We’re grateful.” The monk bowed but most of the other monks were continuing to assess the damage. You had been worried about a few floorboards and instead you’d destroyed an entire section of the temple. So much for discretion.

“We really are sorry.” Kung Lao bowed apologetically.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. We’re grateful to be rid of this dotaku. Make certain that it’s kept out of the wrong hands.”

“We will.”

“Also, one more request?”

“Anything.” Kung Lao bowed again.

“Never come back. Please.” The monk looked to you scoldingly. You laughed and then covered your mouth before bowing apologetically. “We’ve arranged for a ride that will take you back to town.”

“We’re very grateful.” Kung Lao offered you his arm and you took it, exhausted. The monk gestured toward the path that would take you away and then waved before turning back to his comrades and assessing the damage. You and Kung Lao walked down the path to the front gates where you could see headlights approaching. Silently you stood, waiting, and the longer you stood there, the more difficult it became for you to keep a straight face.

An old sedan pulled to a stop in front of you. The driver looked at you in surprise and then turned his gaze immediately. Kung Lao burst into laughter. You did the same, burying your face against his shoulder, holding the bell close to your chest. It hurt to laugh but god that had been such a chaotic mess. Kung Lao opened the back door of the sedan for you and you climbed in. He slid in after you.

“…back to town?” The driver seemed both concerned and as though he didn’t want to get involved.

“Folkloro Ominato, please.” Kung Lao managed to stifle his laughter and rested his hat in his lap. Then he leaned his head back against the seat as the driver started down the road. You sat listening to the quiet hum of the talk radio the driver had on. “At least we don’t have to walk six miles back to the hotel.”

“Kung Lao, could that have gone worse?”

“Yes. It could have. We’re alive and clothed, Y/N. That’s a win.” Kung Lao closed his left eye as blood dripped into it again. Poor guy’s forehead was swollen, hair soaked in blood. You tore more of your sash and patted at the blood above his eye. He watched you curiously and you avoided his gaze since he was trying to catch it. You didn’t need another tense moment. You were sore and exhausted. Kung Lao grabbed your wrist and stopped you from dabbing at his wound. You didn’t fight him but turned your gaze down.

He brushed his thumb over the back of your hand, then lifted it to his lips, letting them brush against the back of your knuckles. They were scraped, the back of your index finger bleeding. His lips pressed just next to the wound as the sedan came to a stop just in front of your hotel. Kung Lao didn’t let go of your hand even as the driver got out and opened the door for you.

You pulled your hand back reluctantly. Kung Lao got out of the car and you followed him. You offered some money to the driver for the trip and the late hour. He bowed his thanks and then got back into his car and left. Thankfully, because of how late it was, there were only a few employees in the hotel lobby. You were stared at as you entered the hotel, bloodied and filthy, but no one stopped to talk to you.

Kung Lao redirected you to the elevator instead of the stairs and once inside, you both leaned against the back wall, exhausted. Your rooms were closer to the stairwell, but the trek was still easier than four flights of stairs after the day that you’d had. Your legs were dragging. You probably would have slept in the stairwell if you’d decided to go that way. You stood in front of the doors to your adjacent rooms for a long time. Kung Lao leaned against his door and watched you. You opened the door to your room, both exhausted and wired. It felt weird to be without him after being joined at the hip for most of the day.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep. Want to clean up and come back to my room? Hang out?” He looked you over, eyes lingering on the torn sash and then the scrape that had ripped your sleeve.

“That depends.” You leaned against the door frame and watched him.

“On what?”

“Whether or not hang out is a euphemism, Kung Lao.”

He laughed. “No, it’s not a euphemism. I may have noticed when we checked in that they have a few martial arts films to rent. Figured we could put one on and just… be. Feeling nostalgic after spending today with you.” Kung Lao’s serious moments were going to kill you. If this was, in fact, a serious moment. It was beginning to feel like another moment of him manipulating the truth. You narrowed your eyes at him but he kept his on your feet. How could you say no to him? Especially when he was bloodied up the way he was. Would you have been able to sleep anyway? It would have been easier if you had just gotten one room with two beds. This was your fault for insisting that you had separate spaces to stay in.

“I’d like that. I just need to clean up a little.” You nodded toward your room.

“Yeah, me too. I’m a bloody mess.”

“You really are.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” He winked and then walked into his room. You heaved a sigh and then did the same. You placed the bell down and cleaned up. Some of the new clothing was ruined already, but it had served its purpose. You checked on your side to make sure it was still closed up tight and thankfully it was. In fact, it looked much better. You were scraped on your shoulder, your lip was swollen, and your throat was bruised, but other than that you’d made it off easy. Changing into some more of your new clothes, you picked up the bell and brought it back with you to Kung Lao’s room.

He had the door still open a crack and you knocked to make sure he was decent. That was all this day needed was for you to walk in on Kung Lao naked or something. You shook off the thought. “I’m clothed.” He called to you as though he could read your mind. You stepped into his room and closed the door behind you. It occurred to you now that you could just return to Raiden’s Temple. But sleep would do you some good and Kung Lao hadn’t mentioned it so you wouldn’t either.

Kung Lao was holding a cloth over the scrape on his side, having changed into clean pants. He offered you a wave as he fiddled with the remote with his other hand. you joined him and took the cloth from his side and tended to the scrape there. “You need to get these looked at.”

“No.” He spoke flatly. “Any preference for these movies?”

“I’m serious, Kung Lao.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. Just wrap it up and I’ll deal with it when we get back to the temple.”

“Why do you hate taking care of yourself so much?”

“Do you have a preference or not?” He yawned. “I’m just picking one.” He put on one of the movies and set down the remote by the television before sitting on the bed. You sat next to him and wrapped the wound up as he had asked. You hoped he took care of it otherwise he could be in trouble. You’d remind him in the morning.

Then Kung Lao laid on the bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. You discarded the cloth and set the bell next to the television. Then you did the same and laid next to him. You sat, listening to the sounds of the movie which was not one you recognized but was still familiar and comforting.

You could feel him watching you again but kept your gaze on the ceiling. If he had something to say then he would say it. Either that or he would just stare at you. You reached for his hand blindly and gave it a squeeze. You’d had one hell of a day. Anything that you’d argued about, left unsaid, or had said too much of could wait for another time. For now, you were at peace. You’d gotten what you’d come there for and that was what mattered.

Holding his hand, you drifted to sleep next to him.