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hyuckatelier222 · 2 years ago

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a thousand times over

genre: fluff? no warnings

author's note:

this is inspired by sge book 1! main character being agatha and donghyuck being tedros ofc. didn't write it in a y/n pov or format bc idk why but i get writer's block if i do it that way. and i apologise bc mc's name is not korean idk i think adrienne suits her more than any other name i could think of. and also ok if i'm being honest i started this while i was in a super fluffy mood and finished it the next day and surprise i wasn't exactly as invested as i was oops. but anyway i think it's about time i posted something so here.. (nobody talk to me about it by the way i can't reread this because i know i'll cringe)

Adrienne was afraid.

Afraid of what she’d do; what he’d do if she–

No. No, no, no, no. She couldn’t.

But her heart had long danced out of control, fluttering at anything that remotely whispered in his direction. Which was, in fact, almost everything.

She didn’t want to admit that it had embraced truths her head couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Since when did she care about boys? And why this one too, when he was so stupidly arrogant, unserious, attention-loving, shallow, vain, kind, actually thoughtful at ti–

She slammed her head into her desk.

You just have to make it through class today. Just class, not him. There’s nothing he can do, really. Just keep your head straight and make it through class, Adrienne.

Fate had other plans, unfortunately.

Thirty minutes later, when she was supposed to be engrossed in page 43 of A Journey Through Tales, like how she’d so sternly ordered herself to, she was instead staring at a certain chocolate-haired boy at the front of the class, his pen in his mouth, hair messily swept in a dozen directions, boba eyes mindlessly pacing a sentence on the page, but gosh was he gorgeous even so…

He sat up suddenly, arms spreading in a lazy stretch, and somehow his eyes locked with hers. Grinning, he widened his eyes in mock concern, pointing at her book. Adrienne had already reverted to her signature expressionless stare, rolling her eyes and burying herself back into her textbook.

But her heart fluttered just the way princesses’ did in fairytales.

“You surprised me today, you know?”

Adrienne stayed silent, eyes pinned forward while he traipsed next to her out the classroom.

“Hey! Ask me why you surprised me,” he whined, pouting.

Feigning annoyance, she complied, closing her eyes. “...Why did I surprise you.”

“Because Professor was so boring you resorted to staring at me. You! Not paying attention. I find that a pretty big feat to be proud of,” he finished self-assuredly, smiling to himself. "By the way, y'know, ball's in 2 da-"

Her eyes flew open. “W-who said I was staring?”

“Were so.”

“I was thinking!”

“About me?”

“You-”

He crossed his arms triumphantly.

She swirled to him, praying the heat rising on her cheeks wouldn’t show. “Look, why don’t you just mind your own business. And anyway, you’re talking to me why?”

“Calm down,” he chuckled, stepping away with a cocky side-smile plastered across his face. “Anyway, to answer your question, princess–”

“I’m not–”

“Shhh, I’m not done speaking. To answer your question, I think I’m perfectly qualified to talk to you and to mind your business, since…” He held up a folded piece of paper in front of her. “This.”

“Look, I really don’t care about whatever you have to show me. Now, my room is literally behind you since you practically followed me up here, so thank you very much for being the gentlemanly prince you are, but please leave–”

The paper had writing on its underside, folded left over right and then bottom up. Somehow it seemed vaguely familiar, but Adrienne couldn’t place where she’d seen it exactly–

The way it was folded. The flowing handwriting. The cream-coloured paper.

Adrienne choked–

The week before, he'd nudged her and asked her to stop acting weirdly after he caught her staring at him (yes, it was a recurring incident). She’d coughed loudly and denied acting any sort of way, shoving him out of her mind.

But the truth was, she was acting weirdly. Reflecting something inside her. Something she’d vowed she never had, but oh was she so wrong. For that same day, she’d gone home, and, despite fierce chants from her past self, adamantly refusing to become “one of those stupid brainless princesses that gushed everything to everyone”, she wrote a letter, grabbing one of the obnoxious notepads the school planted in every Ever's room.

A letter she'd left on her table, forgotten as she rushed to class the second she'd finished writing it. Unintended to reach its recipient's eyes.

A wicked wind whipped through her room, blowing it off the table and under her room door, precisely where a prince paced up and down, distressed over a ball in a week's time.

To Donghyuck.

What if I told you the truth?

What if I told you how I really feel?

What if I told you that I’ve been weak in the knees for weeks, every time you flash that stupid smile of yours?

What if I told you that my eyes have spilled enough tears to last me a lifetime, trying to get a life of my own, trying, trying, trying, until you popped up? Until you popped up and left the answer there, so brightly, so obviously– that this is MY fairytale, not Sophie's?

What if I told you I race to do everything to stop my mind from spiralling into dangerous territory every time I think of you?

What if I told you that every time I close my eyes, I long to see my home, my mother, my cat, but instead I see the colour of love, of you, of your eyes, a thousand times over?

What if I told you the truth?

Adrienne

Her hand viciously swiped the air, desperately reaching for that piece of paper, because oh God, how had it got to him, but he was too quick for her, already holding it high out of reach.

“Give it back, you pu–”

“Adrienne.”

His voice was suddenly calm, his eyes melting straight into hers. She froze, lowering her hand, suppressing the little dance her heart was performing.

The Ever corridor was as quiet as ever, warm yellow lighting engulfing the carpeted area and creeping across both their faces, almost infusing some sort of sweet tension into the air around them. Donghyuck suddenly glanced around shiftily, scratching the back of his neck, and, voice wavering like a little boy, mumbled indistinctly to the girl in front of him.

“I don’t know why you put up so many walls around you, or how you suddenly me realise that you’re the most beautiful person I know, inside and out, but… “

He took her hand into his, slowly bending down on one knee.

“Adrienne of Woods Beyond�� will you be my princess for the ball?”

She gasped, sparks flying between their fingers, looking down into boba eyes glistening with hope, glistening with love. For her. And in that moment, her heart knew the right answer, just like how it’d known for months. A beautifully kept secret, now blossoming, growing, bigger, bigger, out of control.

“...Lee Donghyuck.”

She almost chuckled at how his eyes glazed over with fear, bowing his head, as if prepared to accept the worst. Him, the most famed young prince in the world, rejecte–

“Yes."

Silence.

"A thousand times over, yes, yes, yes.”

The corridor exploded with a chocolate-haired boy’s triumphant whoops, spinning his princess round and round, while she laughed and laughed, the both of them dizzy with love, the world a blur around them.

“But seriously, did you have to be so cheesy with the question?”

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suchalonelysunflower · 4 years ago

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Be Alright (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: You go on tour with Luke and the boys for the first time, but things don’t go as planned as you try to fit in.

Warnings: Angst with Fluff. Anxiety, panic attacks, low self esteem. Language. Hostility. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 6.9 k

Author’s Note: This fic takes place after the pandemic. It deals with anxiety and panic attacks, but please remember that the symptoms as well as what the person experiences it’s always different, this is just how I see and experience these cases. Please, if you want to learn more about them get informed by a reliable source. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Likes and Feedback are much appreciated and you don’t know how much it helps me! ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🌻🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my taglist?

Picture taken from Pinterest

@theshyspy : (...) So I was wondering if you could write something with Luke or cal (whoever feels most natural?) where the reader just gets really anxious and he takes care of her and calms her down? maybe making sure she eats and/ or drinks enough, that she gets some rest, perhaps he sings for her? Idk just some fluff🤷🏼‍♀️ (It’s totally ok if you don’t want to, or don’t feel comfortable writing it !! I know it can be triggering for some people so just leave it if it bothers you in any way!!🙆🏼‍♀️💕)

The feeling of an ice-cold touch shook you out of your dreamless sleep. You nearly jumped out of your seat before remembering where you were and what you were doing.

The light came through the small window, illuminating your seats and the small aisle that separated you from your friends. The air conditioner was turned off and you made a mental note to thank Luke later, he knew how cold you get on these travels.

Speaking of “Why are your hands so damn cold?!” You scolded your boyfriend as you rub your eyes, trying to wake up and steady your heartbeat from the scare you just got.

Luke just pressed his lips in a thin line, not wanting to laugh at your sudden reaction but also not to smile like an idiot due to your sleepy state. Even after a 15-hour flight you still looked cute as hell in his eyes.

“Sorry, love,” He said with a smile once you looked at him “I was having a drink, and then came time to wake you up. I didn’t notice my hands were cold”

You murmured some gibberish close to an ‘okay’ and yawned “How long was I out?”

Luke cringed “20 minutes”

“What?!”

It was no surprise, you could never sleep well in places that were not a proper bed. You didn’t want to think about how it would be like to sleep in a bunk next to your six-foot-four Australian boyfriend.

“I thought I slept longer” You pouted “Although it didn’t feel like much”

“Another bad dream?” He asked, placing his head on your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours, slowly playing with them.

“A lack thereof, actually,” You said, yawning again “But don’t worry, I’ll sleep when we get to the hotel”

Luke smiled and brought your hands to his lips, softly placing a kiss on your knuckles as you cuddled next to him.

Your heart was beating loud and you hoped he wouldn’t notice, or if he did then he did not say anything and you were grateful. It was stressful enough to travel on tour for the first time and to know that you might bring him down with your anxious overthinking was not doing great with you.

Luckily, your mind grew quiet as Calum popped his head from the seat in front of you.

“Excited for your first tour?” He asked with a grin. He looked brand new, and as you looked around you realized they all do. For a moment there you had to remind yourself that this is what they do for a living.

“Mmh hmm” You hummed, head still placed over Luke’s while you played with his hair “Kinda nervous, though” You admitted.

“Why?” This time it was Ashton the one who asked, popping his head from the seats next to yours as he joined the conversation “It’s going to be fun! Like a big road trip” He chuckled.

“Yeah but-” Your voice was cut out by the pilot who announced over the speakers your arrival at the airport.

You thought about sharing your fears with the boys, given that this was your first time flying across the world with them you didn’t exactly know what to expect and you were scared to find that out in the worst situations. But then, how could they know? After all, how much pressure could they have when they pretty much secured the love of everyone? You, however, were just the girlfriend and it almost felt like you have to earn that place on tour.

The fans will be looking at them but criticizing you. It’s not like it would be your first time dealing with it since you went public with your relationship, God knows it’s not easy dealing with that But it won’t be just them this time, there’s also the paparazzi, the crew, the boys themselves even if they don’t notice; they are all expecting you to be ready and up for it, perfect all the time. Not to mention the stress of traveling and the schedules, the jet lag and the-

Once again your thoughts were put on pause before you could finish overthinking them as you felt Luke shake next to you. You met his gaze but he was looking to the side, trying hard to stiffen his laughter as Ashton dropped an ice cube into Michael's back under his shirt, waking him up with a jump and a mix of curses.

You shook your head and laughed along with them. You should be thankful for having them, after all, they are your friends and they could help you manage all of those pits of anxiety that started to grow. Anything could happen on this tour and, at least you know that you won’t be bored.

Luke helped you with your carry-out and let you walk in front of him, all while placing his hands on the sides of your waist and walking -or actually more like waddling along with you. You giggled as he placed his head on top of yours, making it difficult to walk for the both of you but he wasn’t going to let go. That’s one of the things you love about him; he is never afraid to show his affection and be close to you, almost in a protective manner. You feel safe with him and you know the feeling is mutual.

You laughed with the rest of the boys as you made your way to claim your luggage, joking around and teasing each other much to the annoyance of the other passengers. You felt how Luke’s chest rumbled with laughter, and in the few quiet moments, you got while waiting for your bags he managed to hold you closer and press little kisses around your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle in his tight embrace. You almost forgot how tired you were from the flight.

Almost. But your body had a different plan.

As your bags were taking their sweet time, you could hear the distant voices of the boys drifting away from you. Slowly, you began to drift away too, your eyelids becoming heavy as you struggled to stay up. Soon enough, the notices became a light buzzing sound inside your head.

“Y/N?” Luke asked as he felt you become heavier on his grip “Baby?” He looked down at your face and saw you fight to get your eyes open and failed to do so as they kept shutting without your permission.

He cringed as he saw your tired face, knowing that he was once again tasked with the job of waking you up. If it were up to him, he would’ve carried you in his arms all the way to the van just for you to get some sleep. But it was common for them for fans to welcome them in the airport accompanied by some paparazzi who tried to get a bad shot out of them and, despite his wishes for you to be completely rested and healthy, he needed to wake you up.

“Y/N, are you alright, love?” He asked whispering in your ear, rubbing his hands up and down your arms hoping that in that way he could somehow share some of his energy with you.

You quickly came back to your senses once you felt Luke’s arms leave your waist and hold you by your shoulders and elbows. A red flush covered your face as you realized where you were standing -and almost falling, asleep.

“Y-yeah,” You said, standing up straight as you pull away from his hold, somehow trying to prove your point “I’m just-“

“Tired. Yeah, it’s okay” Luke reassured you as he came closer and wrapped you in his arms by the waist “I was just like you when I experienced my first jet lag. It will go away”

You scoffed “Yeah? In how long?”

“In like four months when we get home” He teased, immediately bursting into laughter when he saw you glare at him.

You slightly punched his chest, mocking anger. But soon enough you found yourself laughing along “I think I just need to eat something”

Luke stopped laughing, replacing his smile with a concerned gaze “Didn’t you eat on the plane?”

“I couldn’t. I tried to eat while you were asleep, but my stomach just rejected the food so I chose to wait until we were on land”

Luke shook his head and was about to say something when Calum interrupted him to give you both your bags.

“Those were the last ones,” He said “We need to get going”

Luke nodded as he watched him walk away, turning to you once he was out of sight.

You could feel his worried stare, but you just smiled at him as you placed your hand on his cheek “Don’t worry love. I can buy something from here and then eat some real food at the hotel if that would make your worries go away”

He just sighed and nodded. You smiled reassuringly at him and brought him closer to peck his lips “Love you”

“Love you, too,” He said with a love fool grin “Ready to start the tour?” He asked excitedly.

You nodded enthusiastically as you grabbed his hand and started walking along with him towards the gates, feeling ready to face up anything.

Well, you weren’t ready to face up to what ensued.

As soon as those gates opened you were bombarded with flashes of cameras and screams from thousands of people.

Fans were gathered outside the airport gates, waiting for their favorite band to arrive. Of course, this led to the paparazzi being there as well, waiting to get an inside scoop of the boys’ first arrival on their world tour after the pandemic.

There were too many people for you to be able to see more than three meters in front of you. All of them were shouting Luke’s name as he tried to make his way out of there and lead you to safety.

You lifted your gaze and saw how he was smiling at the fans, waving with his free hand as his grip on your hand became tighter. Strangers were approaching the both of you very quickly, pushing their way to the front as they asked and demanded a picture of an autograph.

Your personal space was becoming smaller and smaller as they pushed through you, trying to separate you from your boyfriend’s grip. They bumped your shoulder and kicked your sides with elbows and frantic arms. You felt your voice getting drowned out as you called for Luke, hoping that he could hear you over the commotion and come help you out.

It all happened so fast. Luke let go of your hand by accident for just one second as he tried to look back at you. His heart shattered as he struggled to find your eyes in the crowd of pleas and flashing cameras “Y/N?!” He called, trying to appear calm in front of those strangers, but on the inside he was desperate, kicking himself over and over for ever letting go of your hand.

And then, he heard it “Luke!”

Your eyes were wide and filled with tears as people pushed through you to get to him. His eyes filled with regret as he sucked on a breath and walked towards you, easily making his way back as all of the people who were standing there stepped aside to let him through. No one pushed him, no one yelled at him for stepping into their place. No one dared to disrespect him as they disrespected you.

In a matter of seconds, Luke was standing in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You felt like you could breathe again.

“You okay?” He asked, mumbling as he kissed your head. You heard the faintest “aww” coming from the fans witnessing this little gesture and confusing with something cute instead of what it was: he was shielding you from them, protecting you while comforting you the best he could. Yet, all you could hear was Luke’s beating heart as you hid your face in his chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” Luke said, tensing his whole body as he pulled you to the side, not letting go of his grip to your waist as you walked rapidly towards the exit.

You both ignored the calls and flashed from your surroundings. You could feel your breathing becoming heavier as you tried to keep up with his steps, not really relaxing until you saw the van’s door opening and Calum making space for the both of you.

You jumped inside the car and Luke quickly followed, closing the door and letting out a breath he was holding.

“So…” Ashton said, breaking the silence after they drove away “That was fun. Nothing like a little chaos to start the tour”

For the first time in your life, you wanted to punch his face. Your heart was still beating loudly inside your chest and they were all so calm. It truly seemed like they didn’t care that you just went through one of the scariest experiences of your life.

Yeah, you know you might be exaggerating. But it’s your first flight with the boys, first time in a foreign country, first time with a multitude of fans and photographers where they all pushed you to get to your boyfriend. And they were all fine? Like it wasn’t a big deal? And they say it was fun?

The chattering continued, all three of them talking about the fans they saw and how they reacted to them. Joking around and teasing each other for various reasons. No one noticed how your hands were shaking or how you didn’t say a word since you got up in the car.

You tried to steady your breath and to hide your hands somewhere until they were cool. You still feel a sting where one girl elbowed you, knowing it might leave a bruise. You tried to close your eyes and think about nice things to get you off your mind for a while, but all you could see was how Luke drifted away from you, going farther and farther as you lost sight of him; and no matter how hard you yelled his name, your voice was drowned and lost among all the others.

The tears started to pick up in your eyes and you held them back as hard as you could. You needed to be strong, this is just the first stop of the tour and you needed to toughen up if you want to keep up. You just hoped you could do it before anyone noticed it.

Luke was sitting beside you, not participating in the conversation of his bandmates, but rather he was looking at you and how your leg bounced up and down in a rapid motion.

He knew your mind must be going ten miles per hour at this moment. You weren’t used to this whole lifestyle and for that to be your first experience must be nerve-wracking. He wished he could just erase all those bad feelings and bring you the comfort you deserve.

“Hey,” He finally said, softly enough for you to hear as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes quickly snapped in his direction, finding some kind of peace in his baby blue eyes “Are you okay?”

He knew the answer was no, but he also knew you would never admit that, so it was no surprise when you smiled at him and nodded. Only this time the smile didn’t reach your eyes like they always do.

“You know just… a bit tired, that’s all,” You said, not wanting to worry him. But it was a little bit late for that and you noticed that the instant he furrowed his brows and gave you the ‘I know you’re lying’ look.

“Are you sure? Because that out there was pretty crazy and-“

“I’m fine, Luke” You reassured him, scooting closer to him and leaning against his frame. He immediately rounded his arm around your shoulder and started drawing circles on your skin with his thumb “I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I just need you close for a while, is that okay?”

Luke sighed and held you tighter “Yeah, of course, love. Whatever you need. You should try to get some sleep, I’m sorry we couldn’t buy you anything to eat back in the airport”

You look around you. All the boys were singing and joking around, not paying attention to you and Luke; making it difficult for you to just drift back to sleep.

“No, don’t worry. I’m okay. I’ll eat and sleep when we get to the hotel”

You watched the scenery pass by as the car drove you to your destination. You tried to focus on the conversations going around you, but you were too distracted by the beauty of it all.

It amazed you how after such a scary experience could come such comfort; you were surrounded by your best friends and your lover, experiencing new things and memories you knew you needed to treasure forever.

From time to time you could feel Luke staring at you, almost like he wanted to make sure you were okay and you would reassure him with soft smiles and little pecks on the cheeks as the other guys reminisced about their previous times abroad.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop and you found yourselves parked in a huge parking lot. You looked at Luke with a confused expression and he did the same. You didn’t know where you were.

“Uh, why are we stopping?” He asked as Calum and Ashton opened their doors and stepped out of the van.

“Because we are here?” Michael asked, not getting his friend’s confusion.

“This is the hotel?” You asked.

“This is the venue…” Michael said, pulling a lever so he could push Calum’s seat out of the way and step outside “We are not going to the hotel till tonight”

“What?!” Luke half asked, half yelled.

“Yeah, dude. We’re behind schedule so we need to do a quick soundcheck and then hop in the car and go do a couple of interviews in radio stations… did you not read the email?”

Luke facepalmed himself “No…” He lamented as he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, then he looked at you with apologetic eyes “Oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry, love”

“It’s okay, Luke” It was not okay, you really wanted to take a nap and a shower before the show. But you couldn’t have avoided this at any cost and it wasn’t his fault at all, so there was no need to bring him down because of this.

“No! Of course, it’s not okay. You need to rest and eat a proper meal. This is it fair to you and I’m so sorry”

You could tell that he was kicking himself inside his head and you hated to see him all worked up and anxious. It broke your heart to see him so frustrated with himself.

Your palms cupped his face and made him look at you “Luke, baby. It’s fine, I promise. It will be fun! Plus, I can always nap on the couch” But he didn’t look conceived at all “I’ll be fine”

He sighed “Promise you will eat something there? And drink some water?”

You nodded with a smile “I promise. Now go! You have a soundcheck to kill” You winked at him and pecked his lips before jumping out of the van.

“What would I do without you?”

After the quick soundcheck, the boys changed clothes and got ready for an afternoon filled with interviews and quick appearances. It was going to be a wild ride, so you opted out of staying in the venue until they got back.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Luke asked for the tenth time.

“Of course she will!” Intervened Ashton “She’s Y/N/N, she can take care of herself”

You rolled your eyes at him and stared back at your boyfriend “I’ll be fine, love. I’ll just stay right here and maybe I’ll take a nap”

“And you know where the catering room is?”

You certainly didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that right now. You would manage well enough.

“Yes, dad” You teased

“Y/N!” Luke mocked a shocked expression “Not in front of the boys!”

You scoffed and lightly pushed him in the chest “You pig! Not everything has to be dirty!”

“You started it!”

“Go!” You laughed, kissing him one last time “Give your fans some content”

You saw the four of them walk through the door and you let out an exhausted breath. This is the first time you allowed yourself to relax since you boarded the plane almost 24 hours ago and you were beyond tired at this point.

How did they do it? Fly across the world and still look like superstars, what kind of deal did they make, and with whom?

You looked around the green room, your eyes landing on your reflection. You physically cringed at the image in front of you; dark heavy bags rested under your eyes and your hair, although pulled back, seemed oily and tangled in knots; your clothes had wrinkles in them and you seriously regretted sending your luggage directly to the hotel, leaving you with this shirt, a hoodie, and your black jeans.

A sigh escaped your lips as you tried to think of nice things; things that would keep your mind out of overthinking every single detail that has gone wrong since the minute you left home. How were you supposed to prove that you belong on the tour if you couldn’t even handle the first day? You needed to gain your energy back before the guys came back, and what better medicine than a little nap?

You moved Ashton’s heavy bag from one corner of the couch and laid on your back, but the awaited relief never came. You tossed and turned in different positions, hissing every time the warm leather glued itself to your skin only for it to be peeled off with every movement.

The sounds from outside of the room grew louder as the crew hurried to put everything in its place on time for the show. People were running in and outside the green room, not paying attention to you laying on the couch trying to find an ounce of sleep as they focused on their tasks.

You don’t know how long it’s been and, honestly, you’re afraid to ask. It was clear that you were not going to get any sleep here, not while everyone’s acting frantic because of a scheduling mishap and not while your mind is still preoccupied trying to keep up instead of relaxing as Luke told you to do.

You tried one last time to get at least a five-minute nap, but it was almost impossible. You opened your eyes with a groan and got up, so frustrated that you didn’t even feel the burn on your skin when you separated yourself from the uncomfortable couch.

The second your feet touched the ground and you lifted yourself on your feet, everything started to spin. You felt how your blood seemed to have disappeared from your body, leaving only a carcass that couldn’t stand for itself, making you fall on your ass back into the couch.

You felt nauseous, but the growling in your stomach reminded you that you haven’t eaten in all day. You had to eat something before you passed out, but the mere thought of eating made you feel even dizzier if that was possible.

You counted to ten, ignoring the way your head pounded with loud warnings and stood up. It took you a few seconds to find your balance again, but once you started walking you felt like you couldn’t stop.

You got out of the room, not really knowing where the catering was but you were determined to get there. You couldn’t let Luke and the rest see you like that, so weak and pathetic. It’s just day one and you are already passing out? How stupid is that!

The loud bangs in your head increased with every step you took, soon becoming voices that screamed inside your mind, drowning every ounce of clarity you might have; turning to the right and then to the left, then to the end of the hallway and back to the right. Did you even know where you were going?

Did you even know why you were here?

It was bound to happen, sooner or later, that Luke would ask you to accompany him on tour. Bet he is regretting that decision now. You tried, you really tried to be the supporting girlfriend, but how could you be of any support when you were the one who needed it? He didn’t come here to be your nanny and yet all he’s done is worry about you! You should be able to take care of yourself, yet you can’t even do that for him.

What a terrible girlfriend you were. He will surely break up with you and send you back home on the next flight. He didn’t need this kind of energy, this cloud of darkness you were becoming, ready to drown out his light with your problems. If only you could do better for him. For Luke.

Luke, the simple thought of him brought you to the brink of tears. You loved him so much, so much that it hurt to love him yet at the same time it was the best comfort in the world just to be standing by his side. You wanted to be by his side and never let go, but you were pushing away from him. Your mind and meaningless needs were separating you from him, telling you that he deserves someone better, more equipped to handle the lifestyle you weren’t ready for.

He is the brightest star in the universe and you are just a firefly, trying hard to be something you’d never be and everyone can see it. The fans see it, the media sees it and even your friends will someday. They will realize that you were nothing more than a girl who just hoped she could be enough but ended up becoming one more burden to carry with.

You couldn’t survive out here, not right now, and not without Luke. You are falling and you feel like if you stay you might drown him with you. You were disappointing him right now, pacing around the-

Where the fuck were you?

The voice inside your head died down as you didn’t recognize the place where you were standing.

You were supposed to be on your way to catering, and you were… but you didn’t know where it was and now you don’t know where you are.

Great.

The screams of the fans reverberated through the walls of the narrow hallway, you only now realize that the doors must be open and the show is about to start. You brought a hand to your back pocket, thinking about calling Luke and telling him your situation and asking him how to get to where they were. But your pockets were flat and your phone was nowhere to be seen, you must’ve left it in the greenroom.

“Fuck!” You yelled, voice hoarse from not having drunk anything since this morning. You looked to your left and there was just a blank wall staring back at you with no way out. You thought about going back, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were heading, so you risked the fact of getting more lost before someone could find you.

Fuck it.

You turned around and started walking, faster and faster. You were almost jogging through the deserted hallways trying to find your way back. You were panicking with every turn, every curve. To the right, then left, then a left, and a right again. You could hear the faintest riff of a guitar, so you speed up your pace. Your exhaustion had nothing compared to the fear in the pit of your stomach, you needed to get back. You needed to be there for Luke, to find your way back.

The desperation you held inside made you ignore the tears that were spilling out of your eyes without permission. You didn’t want to be alone anymore in a place you don’t know. You are sure your mind is playing tricks on you, making the hallways longer and the seconds everlasting, constantly repeating in your head how you were nothing more than a little lost girl who was playing something she shouldn’t. Something she wouldn’t ever be.

People passed you as you turned around corners, your heart beating loud as you recognized some faces from the crew, getting closer and closer to where you were supposed to be.

And finally, you arrived.

You let out a breath, you didn’t know if it was from relief or just a way to drown out the sob that was threatening to come out. You made a move to open the door but you noticed your hands were shaking. A cold feeling ran through your body, making you shiver as you wiped your sweaty palms on the front of your jeans. You were so close but why did you feel so far away? Drifting and drifting further and further….

What was happening?

“Y/N?”

You heard your name being called by a familiar voice. You lifted your head and saw Michael standing at the door of the green room, his eyes scanning you carefully. You swore you could see a hint of fear in them. He quickly moved out of the way, opening the door wider so you could step in.

You lifted your gaze, your teary eyes meeting Luke’s as he stood in the middle of the room, pacing back and forward with his phone in his hand, gripping it so tightly you thought it might crack.

“There you are!” He said, pressing a button on his screen. He was smiling, relief visible on his features as his eyes took you in “I’ve been looking for you, the opening band already started playing and- Y/N?”

Suddenly, everything stopped. Luke’s eyes denoted fear as he saw you collapse to your knees the moment you stepped into the room. He saw everything happen in slow motion: the way you wrapped your arms around your stomach; the shaking of your entire frame as you let out a heavy breath mixed with a sob; and the tears in your eyes as you tried to make sense of what was happening to you.

He acted fast. In one swift move, he was kneeling in front of you, taking you in his arms as he pulled you closer to his chest “She’s having a panic attack!” He said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, but none of his friends moved as they were still shocked by the image of you falling into the ground.

“Michael!” He called, remembering that people act better in an emergency if given direct orders “Go find a doctor. Ashton, bring her something to eat. And Calum, find water and soda. She’s dehydrated and needs some sugar”

All three of them didn’t think twice before jumping out of their seats and running through the halls to find those things for you. But you couldn't hear any of that.

“I’m sorry,” You cried, over and over again “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Shh, love” Luke cooed, lifting you and sitting back down on the couch, placing you on his lap as he rocked you back and forwards “It’s okay love. Nothing to be sorry for, I’m here. I’m here”

You kept crying into his chest, struggling to breathe as every sob seemed to tear your throat in two. You knew Luke was touching you, but you couldn’t feel his hands anywhere as you shook through your cries.

“Baby- Y/N, listen to me. Okay?” He said with a calming voice, completely contrasting how he was feeling inside “Listen to my voice, baby. Breathe with me, okay? One,” He inhaled deeply, his finger tracing a line up your back so you could follow him “Two” He exhaled, bringing his finger down “Good, do that again, please? One, two”

He was trying so hard not to panic along with you. Seeing you so frail in his arms made his heart break into a million pieces. He didn’t know what was going on in your mind or why or what you were apologizing for. All he knows is that he would do anything not to hear your broken cries again, so desperate and hopeless. He would do anything to make sure you are alright and safe.

You imitated Luke’s breathing pattern as close as you could. Breathing in and out every time he asked until you could feel his finger running up and down your spine, his touch finally bringing some comfort to your body and mind as they recognized him. They recognized home.

Your cries died down the moment Michael stepped through the door accompanied by a nurse, Ashton, and Calum who all brought some type of food and drink to lay down on the table.

Luke made some space so the nurse could sit down next to you, but he never once let go of you or stopped moving his finger on your back. He needed you to know that he was still here and he was not going anywhere.

“She seems good,” The nurse said after quickly giving you a check-up “It was just a panic attack. You did well in calming her down” He said to Luke, giving him a pat on the back “I’m gonna leave here some pills for her to take once she eats and drinks something, these will help with the body ache and headache she will feel later and also will help her sleep”

The four men thanked the nurse as Michael closed the door again. All eyes were fixed on you as you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder, eyes closed as your breathing became even and lighter again.

“Is that-? Is that a half-eaten burger?” Calum asked, pointing to the table filled with foods and drinks, and breaking the silence that had set upon them.

“I panicked!” Ashton answered.

“Could you guys give us a moment, please?” Luke asked, eyes never leaving your face as he held you closer. His friends nodded and walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m sorry, bub,” You said, voice broken and soft.

You slowly opened your eyes and suddenly felt like crying again when you met Luke’s gaze. Surprised at the fact that he didn’t seem angry; all you could see in his eyes was a relief.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He asked, voice as soft as yours as he caressed your cheeks with the back of his free hand “You have nothing to apologize for. These things happen and we can’t really avoid them”

“No,” You said, pushing away from him as you separated from his lap and went to sit on the spot next to him.

Luke’s heart broke at your actions, but it completely shattered when he saw the tears picking up in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry for ruining everything” Your voice broke as you started talking “I’m sorry for being one more burden in this tour that hasn’t even started yet. Look at me! Not even a day in and I’m already falling apart! This is not what you expected of me, Luke and don’t try to deny it. I’ve disappointed you, the band, myself-”

“You did not do such a thing” He tried to say, but you weren’t listening.

“Maybe I’m not meant for this” Your words took his breath right out of his mouth, he didn’t like where this conversation was going “Maybe I’m better off at home. At least there I’m not embarrassing myself in airports or with your fans or with your bandmates and crew- I want to be someone you would be proud of but all I do is overthink every little thing that I forget the rest. I tried so hard to keep up, to prove to you and the others and even myself that I could belong here on tour; that I could live this life with ease as you all do and I just keep failing everyone. I love you, Luke. But I can’t stand the thought of slowing you or pulling you down with me, and you don’t deserve to be tied up with some mess like me-”

Your words were cut off by Luke’s lips clashing with yours. It took you a minute to respond and kiss him back, letting all your worries slip away for only one minute. Only one minute where you could pretend that everything was alright.

Luke pulled away first, placing his forehead against yours “You uplift me, Y/N”

“What?”

He cupped your cheeks, making you look at him as he spoke with such care and love.

“You could never bring me down, you are the one keeping me above the water, my love. I deserve to be with you as much as you deserve to be right here with us”

“Luke-”

“It’s my fault,” He said with a sad voice, you opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it “Don’t try to deny it, Y/N. It’s true. I should’ve prepared you more for what was coming instead of throwing you into the lion's den without a single warning. I knew from the moment I saw your face in the crowd back at the airport that I had failed you, not the other way around. But you stayed, you pulled through and told me that it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. Y/N, you are stronger than any of us and much more caring and loving… I’m so proud of you and that I get to call you to mine that sometimes I can’t even believe it”

He carefully wiped a tear from your cheek, his heart fluttering with joy at seeing you smile back at him “I love you. And if you say that you are not ready for this, then I will book you a flight tonight. I don’t want to see you in pain, my love, even if you try to hide it. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the one who breaks you” He took a moment, thinking over his words “But if you decide to stay. I promise you I will make every single minute of it worth it. I’ll protect you better. I’ll do my best to take care of you the same way you take care of me. You’re my angel, Y/N. And I need you close”

Tears were falling down your eyes again as you pulled him closer into a hug. Luke quickly swung your legs over his lap and held you as tight as he could, almost fearing that you would slip off his embrace if he ever let you go.

You could hear him mumbling something as he rocked the two of you back and forwards again, this time to comfort you both. You pulled your head slightly from his chest so you could hear him better, he was singing the words from “Still”, your favorite Niall Horan’s song.

”Oh, we'll be alright

Oh, it'll be alright”

You always loved when he sang to you, always bringing you the sense of peace you so much needed.

But as you cuddled closer you noticed that not only was he singing, but you could also hear the guitar, the melody, the crowd…

Luke noticed your confusion and chuckled “I asked the opener to cover this song for us; for you. Wanted to surprise you on your first day”

You swore your smile couldn’t get bigger if you tried. Your eyes filled with tears as you chuckled “Well,” You said, sniffing as you knocked your forehead to his “I can’t wait to see what other surprises you got for the rest of the tour”

Luke’s eyes sparkled with the happiness of a little boy on Christmas day “You’re staying?”

You nodded “As long as you want me to”

“Forever, then” He smiled before connecting your lips with his once again. Letting go of all your worries, for all you could feel was love.

The concert was going great. You were convinced this was their best show up to date, but you were saying that since the tour began two months ago.

Luke stayed true to his promise of making everyday worth it. Although you knew that every day that you woke up next to him, whether it was in a bunk or a plane or a hotel bed, that it was worth more than enough. You were home, wherever you went, as long as you had him.

You smiled, laughed, and danced along with the songs on your side of the stage, looking proudly at your boyfriend who lived to do what he loved. But your favorite moment of the night was this; seconds before he started their next song, he would look for your eyes backstage and once he’s found you, he would smile at you and say.

“This is ‘Lover of mine’, everyone. Sing with your heart”

Tags : @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils

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bugsyfics · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Can I please request prompt#38 with undertaker, prompt #4 with Sebastian,and prompt #47 for ciel please?Thank you!!

A/N: Hii! Thank you for the lovely requests <3

Tw: mention of overdose/suicide

Undertaker

Prompt: #38

It was of pretense your true love would be yours forever. In fact, whenever that shimmer in your eye faded after every ‘I love you,’ he spoke against your apprehension.

“Stay with me,” Undertaker would mumble into the crook of your neck.

Though your heart skipped a beat every single time he uttered those words, you couldn’t help but feel heartbroken.

It was loss. It made you afraid and vulnerable; it broke your trust in those who cherished you down to each vessel within their beating heart. But one thing you couldn’t decipher was whether you were more weary of loss or of love. Love always seemed to betray you with those untimely tragedies, so the words that your partner spoke never failed to tear you to pieces.

You knew of the consequences of your actions. Simply you would leave in ignominy and be shunned by your bitch of a mother. Though you still remained uncertain how your lover would take it all. Sure he was happy-go-lucky, but that was all a facade. Underneath, there lied a fragile soul, easily crushed by the barbarity of this world. The world he claimed to have failed himself and his dearest friends, then you.

Perhaps, it was the chemist to blame or Undertaker's lack of warning, but the lazy smile that lingered on your ashen face made it clear you were fond of your choice.

As the glass prescription bottle clattered to the floor out of your weak hand, you watched Undertaker catch you. His mouth hung open a bit, grabbing at your pale face.

Your body went limp in Undertaker’s arms.

Free. You felt closer to yourself than you had all those years of living. Closer to your self. And though you knew this feeling wouldn’t last, you realized you weren’t afraid anymore of the suffocating darkness “love” had sucked out of your essence. You finally found the beauty of it —your longing grew stronger for your heart’s desire.

Just as you were enveloped in ear-splitting silence, an ethereal bliss washed over you. You came to your senses.

Your eyes opened, only your darling in sight.

Undertaker shook his head with a shallow laugh, brushing wisps of hair away from your face.

“God, you’re so annoying,” he exhaled, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

“But I can stay with you forever.”

Now the color of chartreuse, your eyes danced over Undertaker’s, bright with a similar glow.

Sebastian Michaelis

Prompt: #4

Silky black fur and oh so perfect paws, you have!

Sebastian couldn’t help but admire such a beautiful creature. He was fascinated with how the feline’s limber body took each step without a care. Those pleasant, soft purrs against his chest nearly melted the man. Poor Y/N, she watched as her partner gave more attention to the old cat rather than herself. Jesus, she was jealous over nothing, but that didn’t stop her from spying on the strange interaction.

“I love you far more than anything in this world,” Sebastian cooed softly atop the cat’s head.

You scoffed. He is beyond smitten of that thing over me!

Creeping back behind the bushes, it was best for you to leave before you were caught.

“Darling?”

Oh no, of course he could sense you there. Popping your head past the hedge, you were summoned to him.

With a little attitude, your lip jutted out and arms crossed.

“You love it more than me, huh?”

“Yes,” Sebastian smiled, “cats are simply more superior beings than humans after all.”

“Seb! You’re so mean,” you whined, stamping your foot like a child. A faint smile tugged at your lips.

Quickly, he stood sitting the cat down, and embraced you with a soft hum. “It was a joke, dear. I swear.”

Surprising Sebastian, you giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Oh, I know!”

In amusement, Sebastian stroked his chin. “You know, I’ll never understand how you can switch emotions with such ease. You’re an interesting one, my love.”

Ciel Phantomhive

Prompt: #47

“I didn’t mean to... Ciel, you know that.”

The earl exhaled, a shallow laugh fell from his parted lips. The Darjeeling tea in his cup, sat for a while during your heated argument, so when he finally took a sip he cringed at the coolness of it. He couldn’t complain too much, he needed that quick drink to suppress his distaste.

The earl spoke, “I can’t take you seriously —you disappoint me. How did you think I would accept something like that? You think telling my adversaries where my ships are docked is the proper way to get ‘even?’”

Too upset to continue, Ciel shook his head and pushed his teacup aside. He mumbled to himself and grabbed for a pen and paper to take a few notes. You couldn’t read what he wrote from where you sat, but you knew it wasn’t good. Finally, he set the pen down and glared back up at you.

“Y/N—”

“Shut your mouth! You must be a fool to not realize that what I did was imperative. My God, Ciel! You forced me to choose between you and my dreams,” you scoffed.

“And, and, what was I supposed to tell those men, knowing that you pissed me off?” you hissed.

Ciel slammed his cup of tea, rattling the chinaware, and pointed a finger at you. “Would you for once, stop being a bitch?!”

You froze, unable to believe that he would call you such a name. Ciel realized what he said and how terrible he sounded, talking to a woman he was courting that way, and covered his open mouth. His eyes wide.

Standing, you threw your kerchief to the ground.

“I will stay at the townhouse for a while… Until you get your act together and learn how to speak to a lady, there won’t be any further communication. It’s up to you to fix this mess.”

You motioned to the butler, ordering him to pack your belongings. That afternoon you left for London.

— bugs

Taglist: @second-weeb-chick @master-of-schadenfreude

#black butler imagines #black butler fandom #black butler headcanons #black butler fanfiction #black butler sebastian #black butler undertaker #black butler ciel #ciel phantomhive x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #undertaker x reader #black butler #answered

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Eleven

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: first chapter after acosf!! im sorry for how short this one is, but acosf wrecked me and writing this put me back together. i hope it does something similar for you ❤️

***

“You say you’ve been doing better lately?”

The therapist’s office is plain, a little gloomy, but big windows overlook the center of town that make Nesta feel less suffocated.

She nods, “Yeah.”

“How would you describe ‘better’?” Dr. Bond— Lana, she insists on being called— has been endlessly patient with Nesta’s non-answers so far. Nesta almost feels bad and decides to throw the woman a rope.

“I’m not alone anymore,” she says. “I used to be alone all the time, but now I have friends, sort of… and a boyfriend.” She still loves that word. It’s never tasted so exciting before.

“You were always alone before this, then? Or were there just people that you didn’t consider noteworthy?”

A scowl rises to Nesta’s mouth. Damn, she works quick. “I was raised with two sisters in a one-bedroom apartment. I never got to be alone, but then I grew up, and…” Her mind wants to skip over the time she spent in college. “For the last couple of years, I holed up in my own place. Never wanted to talk to anybody or see them. If people took an interest in me, I shut them down because I didn’t have an interest in them.”

“You missed a few years,” Lana notes.

“What?”

“You’re twenty-four, and you moved out at eighteen. Where were you before getting your own place?”

Numbness seeps through Nesta at the question. She knows she can ask Lana to change the topic, but that will only bring it back later. “I had a boyfriend in college,” she says flatly. “I lived with him for a few years, but like you said, it isn’t noteworthy.”

“As a fellow lone wolf, I disagree.” Lana’s clinical polite face is unchanging. “Any person who you trust enough to let into your life is noteworthy.”

Nesta says nothing.

“I’m interested in these people you’ve chosen to trust,” her therapist continues after a beat of silence. “Why don’t we start with whoever you trust most?”

Nesta snorts. This she can talk about.

“His name is Cassian. I’ve been living with him ever since my apartment got flooded a couple of months ago, and he’s always been a good friend to me.” She sits there, thinking about what else to say. “I think I like him more than I’ve ever liked anybody.”

“This is the new boyfriend?”

Nesta nods.

“Do you compare him to the old one?”

Nesta doesn’t know what this lady’s angle is, but she answers carefully, “I used to. Back when I first moved in. I haven’t done it in a long time, though.”

“Why not?”

The answer is simple. “There’s no need to. He’s not comparable to anybody.”

“Is that why you opened up to him after two years of self-imposed isolation?”

Nesta looks away. “It wasn’t isolation,” she defends. “It’s just… after a lifetime of being subjected to the gaze of strangers, I wanted to hide. I liked hiding.” Mostly.

“What does that mean, the gaze of strangers?”

Question after cool question, this one. Nesta struggles to find a proper answer.

“You know how,” she starts slowly, “as soon as you start school, you’re placed into this bubble with a bunch of people who don’t know you and have no reason to care about you? There’s a shift in how you view people, and how people view you. And I thought I could leave it behind once I graduated high school, but it followed me to college and to parties and into everyday interactions.”

“What is it?”

“It’s this—” Nesta waves her hands, “judgment. It’s that thing you do as soon as you meet someone, and you try to determine whether they’re worth your time or not. Whether they’re above or below you in this made-up social hierarchy in your head.”

“Explain that more,” Lana says.

“We want to hang around people we find cool. And when we meet someone new, we inspect them, look them up and down, to see if they fit our definition of cool. We take them apart. Everyone does it, even you. And with me,” she shrugs, “I’m pretty, I wear the right clothes, I do my makeup. So at first glance, people think, ‘Oh, I can see myself getting to know her better. I can see myself liking her.’ But then they take a closer look at me, and it’s like…” Her fingers flutter in the air, trying to support her thoughts. “I can see their minds changing. ‘Nevermind, I was wrong. Nevermind, there’s something off with her. She’s a little quiet, a little weird, a little bitchy.’”

Lana narrows her eyes. “And Cassian doesn’t look at you like that?”

Nesta looks away. “He doesn’t look at anyone like that.”

It’s what used to make her so uncomfortable about him. She was incapable of fathoming his honesty, his genuineness, his kindness. She thought he was even weirder than her for it— she placed him beneath her on her social hierarchy for it.

Lana frowns thoughtfully. “And now you two live together?”

Nesta nods, then shrugs. “For the next twenty-four hours, we do. He’s helping me move back into my old place.”

Because that was another conversation she and Cassian had on Thanksgiving night. It was a long time coming, but also the perfect time.

“You’re saying your apartment has been ready for weeks? Why are you just telling me now?”

Nesta pillowed her face on his chest, not as upset at revealing the news as she would have been some days ago. “Because I was scared that if I moved out, I would lose my friendship with you.”

“That never would have happened—”

“We wouldn’t see each other every day anymore. Even if we didn’t go back to being complete strangers, the closeness would be lost.”

“You must not know me, then. I would’ve texted you every fucking hour. You’d never hear the end of me.”

“I couldn’t guarantee that back then.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “I can now.” She crawled higher up his body, lowering her voice to a secretive pitch. “Want to know why?”

“Why?” he whispered.

“Because you’re mine now. And that’s what I was waiting for while I made Lorene hold that shitty empty apartment for me. I was waiting for a catalyst, a revelation.” She pressed a kiss to his sternum. “And I most definitely got it.” The pleasant ache between her legs was proof enough. “Also,” she added, “it would be weird if you lived with your girlfriend before even having a first date with her.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “You have a point there. We have been moving backwards, haven’t we?”

Nesta nodded into his skin.

He got a little quiet. “Still,” he said after a moment. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll see me every day. I’ll be fifteen minutes away.”

“I’ll still miss you.”

“I know.”

“What does talking about guys have to do with my therapy?” Nesta squirms, getting restless with the topic.

“Lots of things,” Lana says, putting down her notepad. “It gets you comfortable with expressing your feelings to me, and it teaches me about how you view the world. Besides, therapy isn’t just a rehashing of past traumas, you know. We can talk about whatever you want here, especially if it makes you feel good.”

“Well, I want to talk about something else.” She’s not spending this much money by the hour just to talk about how much she likes Cassian— she can go to Cassian for that for free.

“Like what?” Lana asks smoothly.

She’s offering an opening, finally, to the real reason that Nesta’s here.

Nesta pulls at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, wondering where to start. “I feel like I’ve been growing up lately,” she says carefully. “I have all these new people in my life to be responsible for, and I’m— I want to do it right. But I’m worried I won’t have room for new things until I pack up some of my old shit, so that’s why I’m here, I guess. I don’t want to hold on to all of my old shit anymore.”

At Lana’s encouraging silence, she continues, “I spent my whole life stuck in a suffocating town, and as soon as I left, I got stuck in a relationship. By the time I knew what freedom felt like, I— I’d been left behind. Everyone I knew was moving onto bigger things and all I had was this shitbag of a past. So I got a new place and started law school and called it a fresh start, but now I’m here and I’m not sure if I ever got better.”

She takes a sharp breath after everything that’s spilled.

Lana purses her lips, letting the room absorb Nesta’s words. After a long moment, she says, “Just because bad things stop happening to someone, doesn’t mean they instantly get better. It’s a good thing that you’re recognizing that before stepping into new relationships, Nesta.”

Lana glances at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for today, but this was a productive first session.” She offers a small smile. “Same time next week?” She says it as if it isn’t already a done deal.

Nesta nods gratefully anyway, unable to say anything else. As soon as she’s out the door, a pent-up sigh escapes her. That wasn’t so bad.

***

Later that night, Nesta doesn’t miss Cassian’s wistful stare as he takes down the painting he got her from the fall festival. Nor does she miss how slowly he packs it away.

Once the bedroom she made her home is as sparse as the day she moved in, all her things packed away neatly in boxes, Nesta wraps her arms around Cassian and pulls him to the bed. There, she lets him hold her close, their breaths and limbs intertwining as they lie in thoughtful silence.

“I can’t believe I’ll never see this room again,” Nesta says quietly.

Cassian’s eyes widen in alarm. “What do you mean, never again?”

“I’ll be staying in your room whenever I visit, remember?” Her underwear already occupies a drawer in his closet.

Cassian visibly relaxes when he remembers, then smiles. “Right. Of course.”

She lets herself sink deeper into his embrace. “I just realized you’ve never seen my apartment before.” He was waiting at the front door of Lorene’s place while Nesta collected her things all those weeks ago, but she cringes at the thought of him visiting now. The clear wealth gap between her and Cassian doesn’t usually show, but it’ll be undeniable with the cramped room she calls an apartment. “Maybe it’s best if I move back in without your help. There might not even be space there for your huge body.”

“Sounds more appealing by the minute.” He’s not joking. He tilts up Nesta’s chin so she’s forced to meet his eyes. “I can’t wait to start partaking in your life the way you took over mine. Spending nights at your place, meeting your friends, riding in your car instead of mine.”

Nesta swallows.

“I’m gonna miss you like hell, but it’ll be for the best.”

He’s right: this is what’s best for their budding relationship right now. Moving out, creating even a little bit of distance— all of it is so they can finally learn each other as lovers instead of roommates. So when they do come back together, which Nesta firmly believes they will, it’ll be stronger than ever before.

Some of their shared sadness flits away at the truth of it. She only places her hand on his cheek, content to appreciate this view— this beautiful, hazel-shaded view— without further chitchat or goodbyes.

Cassian is not as fond of the silence. “I need to tell you something,” he says seriously after a few minutes.

After only a handful of days dating Cassian, Nesta knows what he’s going to say. “Don’t,” she warns, unamused.

He grins conspiratorially and leans in even closer, until their mouths are almost brushing. “You’re my everything, Nesta.”

“Oh my god, stop it.” She squirms out of his hold and gets up, tossing the blankets off herself.

“No, come back!” He makes a grab for her sleeve. “We have to use the bed one last time—”

But she’s already running off.

***

Cassian carefully arranges the canvas painting on the wall, taking a step back to determine if it’s hanging straight. The ruby and amber leaves of the landscape stand out against the dull teal walls of Nesta’s basement apartment, but he’s just getting started.

The rest of Nesta’s things are half-unpacked from their cardboard boxes, but instead of going for the important shit first, he finds the box he specifically marked FAVES in bold letters the night before.

While Nesta wrangles to get her clothes back into her old closet in the background, Cassian crouches and rips open the small box. There, lying atop his girlfriend’s favorite trinkets and personal items, is the framed photo he snuck in without her noticing.

It’s of the two of them at the fall festival, taken mere hours before their first kiss. Nesta is pressed up close to Cassian (her excuse being that it was cold), and a genuine light fills her eyes, one that Cassian never thought he’d be able to capture on camera. Cassian himself isn’t looking at the camera, but down at Nesta with wind-flushed cheeks and a distant smile. Making sure she’s having a good time, that she truly wants to be there with him in that moment.

He never realized how close they looked in that picture until he had it printed and framed, not long after Nesta announced she was moving out. He can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner.

Standing up, he places the photo on Nesta’s wooden dresser. Nesta still has her head in the closet, moving things around, but Cassian makes no announcement of his gift to her. She’ll notice it sooner or later.

He clears his throat. “Wanna take a break and order Chinese?”

Nesta pops her head out of the closet, her ponytail ruffled and eyes narrowed at him. “Have you even been helping this whole time?”

“Standing here and looking pretty is harder than it seems, but I don’t expect any credit from you,” he jokes. “Just let me buy you lunch.”

Nesta grumbles something he chooses not to hear, but straightens up and rubs her spine with a wince. “I need a fucking chiropractor,” she mutters.

Guilt shoots through Cassian at that small wince, and he resolves to finish organizing Nesta’s closet for her before the day is over. Nesta goes on, “So? Still determined to split your time between here and the cabin?” She gestures to the apartment with an arm.

It’s really just a glorified single room, with a rusty kitchenette in the corner, a hallway near the stairs that holds the bathroom, and Nesta’s bed pushed against one wall. It’s nothing special, but Cassian loves it. Mostly because he can already envision each new nook and cranny to take Nesta against, and how he wants to wake up in that too-small bed on days that he’s too lazy to drive home.

“It’s perfect,” he says simply. Thank you for sharing your home with me, is what he really means. Speaking of homes—

Cassian digs around in his pocket, finding and pulling out a newly-minted silver key. “I almost forgot to give you this.”

Nesta frowns, coming forward to take the key from him. He uses the closeness as an excuse to wrap his arms around her waist while she inspects the object.

She glances up at him, eyes softer than they were a moment ago, lips slightly parted. “You’re giving me a key to the cabin?”

He shrugs casually. “You should’ve gotten one a long time ago.” She used either Cassian’s key or the spare while she lived there.

Her mouth is still open, and she closes it once, twice, before finally saying, “I don’t have a key to my place for you.”

“But I can get one,” she adds quickly. “If you want it, that is.”

Of course he wants it, but he keeps his face carefully neutral. “Only if you want me to have one. We’re still new, and this is your personal space.” He emphasizes your.

Nesta purses her lips, then says, “I’ll think about it.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief— relief that Nesta is being honest with him instead of doing something she isn’t yet ready for. He’ll take her honesty over an apartment key any day.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he smiles brightly and shoves her toward the bed. “If we’re getting dumplings again then you can’t steal mine.”

***

a/n: fair warning that ive never been to therapy, but in stories therapists are usually a mode for character exploration and development, which is what nesta's therapy will be for.

also im so glad i got to meet gwyn in acosf and im so excited to introduce her into this fic too!! if you have ideas for her origin story feel free to share because nothing is planned yet

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @swankii-art-teacher

#a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fic #ncssianwrites

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kuroos-moon · 4 years ago

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「vi. Deal pt. 2」

warning/s: angst (just a lil bit)

a/note: for this smau, like my previous one, there will be numerous chapters wherein they aren’t text chains or necessarily smaus just like this chapter and the prologue. If that’s not to ur liking, or for any reason at all, pls feel free to tell me u wanna be removed from the taglist 🖤

He skeptically looks out through his window, and just like you had texted him a minute ago, there were no more reporters outside. Finally, he thought, not really expecting you to be telling the truth. Honestly, why do you mess with him so much?

Also, he’s been wondering ever since your reunion if you deliberately went to the gym for him or if that was pure coincidence and you’re spontaneously messing up his life right now. The moment he opens his door, he’s adamant on avoiding you because he just knew the person you were now is adamant on driving him insane by doing things like popping out of nowhere to pester him.

Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing in front of his doorstep? “Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You brightly smile, eyes lighting up at the very sight of him. “Nope.” He pulls the door close but you put a hand to stop him. He tugs on it, making you chuckle, but you stubbornly refuse to let him shut you out.

“Get out.” He snaps. “I’m not even inside, Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Seriously? Saying his full name like that only ticks him off. “Don’t call me that.” He tugs harsher on his doorknob but you successfully grip the door with both hands now.

“Shall I call you love then?” You tease despite finding it extremely hard to keep the door open. It may now have dawned on to him that this was pointless as he lets go, though he’ll never admit that he’s actually afraid of accidentally shutting the door on your fingers—he knows he easily could.

“What do you want?” He sighs. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” How you left me? How you had the audacity to walk back in my life like you didn’t trample all over me before?

“Our relationship,” you grin. He chokes. “Our what now?” Laughter erupts from your throat, and it was bittersweet. You’re so carefree and mesmerizing—your eyes angelic and genuinely alight. But more than that, you’re ruthless and despicable, he knows that all too well.

“Won’t you invite me in? It’s cold y’know,” you place your hands inside your pockets. “Then freeze,” he narrows his eyes. He absolutely hates you, here he was slightly worrying he’ll go soft and easy on you because one could never control the heart yet you so easily reminded him of why you were the bane to his existence.

“Yup, figured walking in your home wasn’t gonna happen,” you mutter to yourself with a small smile. He hates it. Don’t act like you know him, because at some point you did, but you don’t deserve to have him etched in your memory.

“Tell me what you want so we could get this over with.”

“Right. Yes sir. Yes love,” you chuckle, not even minding that he remains unamused. “My manager has already arranged a live interview this afternoon.”

“You should’ve started with that. So, you’re here to ask me what you should say?” He asks, unintentionally looking down on your hands you’ve rubbed together for friction. It was indeed cold, you brought this upon yourself though.

“No, I’m here to make a deal with you. My statement for my interview later on depends on your response.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe because talking to you definitely tired him out; sucked his soul out of him. “And by this lovely deal, what exactly are you proposing? Not that you have a leverage over me now or anything.”

You smile, stepping closer to him but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Instead, his feet remained planted to the ground, self-aware of how much his heart was racing right now and the only thing—albeit pathetic—he could do was glare at you.

“Befriend me for a month, that’s it.” That didn’t sound half as bad compared to how devilish you’ve been these past few days. “Go on,” he mutters, stepping back and away from you. “You can’t block my number and you have to reply to my texts.”

“Aren’t you ashamed of how pathetic and selfish you are right now?” He lowly says. You look up at him in surprise, there was faint hurt and vulnerability in his voice that wasn’t there before and you can’t help but feel guilty for it.

“I like you, I don’t know why, I just do.” Pain visits him like an old friend. Casual, embracing, and mind-numbingly heartbreaking. You look up at his eyes and could tell right away the discomfort in them, but it wasn’t just discomfort, there was agony too—perhaps. You could never be too sure, you think, looking down on both your shoes.

“I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on avoiding me, it felt like you hated me the first day we met, and I didn’t like the way you hated me for no apparent reason, much so because I happen to like you.” You’re rarely ever serious or this openly truthful with anyone other than your friends, it was only normal that it embarrassed you. But this didn’t feel exactly foreign either. It felt like he understood you somehow—your words and the thoughts you haven’t exactly expressed.

“I hated you the first time we met?” He repeats and you look at him, surprised at the surreal softness in his voice. “When… was the first time we met, y/n?”

That’s the first time he’s said your name. It made your cheeks flush warm and your eyes widen a fraction. This moment was temporary and fleeting, it was easy to see, because he certainly doesn’t call your name like that so naturally and so right—he certainly doesn’t look at you with the absence of resentment as he normally would.

“Three days ago, outside your gym,” you respond unsurely. As if you’ve reminded him of something utterly annoying, he had closed off himself once more, his eyes unreadable and brooding as they stared back at you.

“And this is why I hate you,” he chuckles humorlessly. You’re still pretending you didn’t know him, as if those years together were something you could so easily erase. “I don’t care what you say in that damned interview. Saying yes to that excessively self-centered deal of yours would lose me my self-respect, you know that.”

He finally steps out the door, closing it behind him as he walks past you and all the way to his car. He hopes this would be the last time he sees you; he desperately hopes so. The last thing he needs is a repeat of the emotional wreck he’s been when he was at the lowest point of his life after you so selfishly left him behind.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi!” You call off, and he stops in his tracks, clenching his teeth. You’re clearly overestimating his patience. “I don’t know how befriending me would lose you your self-respect. Hell, I am so irritated at you right now, hard-to-understand-breathtaking-stupid volleyball player!” You grit your teeth, he scoffs, finding your impudence unbelievably out of this world.

He wanted to bring up your past, to shove it right in your face that you had no right to be angry with his hostility considering everything you’ve done. But he can’t, it’s foolish to bring up history you insist you’ve forgotten. “You better watch my interview later on.”

“Oh?” He mockingly says, turning to look at you, “just what are you going to say?” He admits it is out of character for him to banter off with you like this, if you were someone else, he’s long gone inside his car. Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye to you for good, allowing himself to talk to you like this before moving forward with his life that’s anti-you.

“I’m telling them we’re the bestest of friends but we might marry!” You stick your tongue out at him before running off, you don’t even notice him freeze up. His heart fell to his stomach, he unconsciously held in a breath. No, he didn’t just hold in a breath, it’s getting harder and harder for him to breathe.

There it is again, his old, life-long friend. Crippling pain, anxiety, and resentment bundling up and turning into one heavy-ass anchor, pulling him deeper down than he’s been before. The stability he’s built and worked on by religiously avoiding you for years all went down the drain with those silly words of yours.

Just what kind of ridicule or twisted teasing are you pulling off?

“Wow, I’m surprised you guys put up with Oomi.” He hears your voice, lips tugging upward a little before he realizes what you had just said. Finally entering the gym, he sees you sitting in a circle along with his teammates.

He narrows his eyes at the back of your head. You should be in your winter uniform by now, he bets you forgot. One thing he hated about being a year older than you is that he goes to a different school now that he’s in highschool while you’re still on your last year of middle school, you just can’t seem to take care of yourself enough.

“Yup, Oomi’s really great, he’s the best, I guess that’s why you accept how cold he is sometimes huh,” you snicker, your enjoyment short-lived when you’re engulfed in a jacket and Sakusa’s scent. “Stop giving me backhanded compliments just because you think I’m not around,” he bitterly tells you though there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Oomi!” You rise up to your feet immediately and flung yourself at him. He catches you with no hesitation of course, guessing that you’re here again because you missed him. The rest of his teammates except Komori are surprised.

“Sakusa-kun, didn’t know you had a middle school girlfriend.”

“Ew, she’s not my girlfriend.” He bites back a smile though when you punch his shoulder. “What’s with the ew? Not that I like Oomi that much—he’s an ass,” you send him a pointed look, “but we’re the bestest of friends,” you grin.

“And we might marry someday, right Oomi?”

His face falls. “Can you not make me cringe like for a week or two, thanks.”

You scowl, “oh, so what, you don’t wanna marry me?” At this point, he blushes, you’re always so blunt and shameless, you could at least tweak it down a bit. He only scoffs, walking past you to pick up a ball from the ground, “didn’t say anything like that.”

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#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! social media au #sakusa x reader #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi

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spideymarvelws · 4 years ago

Text

one true love.

Dark!Peter Parker x Dark!GN!Reader

Main Masterlist

Summary : Peter will go threw everything to keep you safe, protected and most importantly always his. He saw you as the person he observed and watched for the past few months, the sweet, kind girl that stopped to pet stray dogs or smiled at everyone who needed it. But somethings he never took notice of, some things that would’ve made him love you even more.

Warnings : THIS IS A DARK FIC! I am not responsible for your media consumption but if any of these topics or just dark fics on a whole trigger you please do not read! cursing, murders, blood, violence, mention of sexual assault, death, stalking, graphic description of a dead body, homicide, fluffy if you squint, use of guns and knifes.

A/n : If any description throughout the one shot does not pertain to a gender neutral reader please let me know :-) also if i missed anything in the warnings.

Word Count : 1.8k

...

The definition of love is something that never stays constant as its experienced from person to person. Even to that very being, the meaning changes every year, month, day even hour, from what that individual may feel in that moment. In some cases, it may be the most beautiful thing that’s ever happened to someone, changing there life in ways they could never even imagine.

In other cases, it could break a person whole, bit by bit, tearing down at who they once were. Emotions like guilt and regret, jealously and remorse running through there veins, thinking that love is only made to destroy the ones foolish enough to believe it exists.

Then you have the rare case of love at first sight.

Now, some may argue that this concept that only seems to show up in movies and TV shows is complete bullshit, that it doesn’t exist.

“You can’t look at someone and automatically know they’re the one for you,” Ned said to him one day, pulling his head out of his chemistry book,“What if they’re an awful person? What if they do something constantly that you don’t like? Seriously, looking at someone and knowing there the one is just basing It of there’s looks or something,”

Peter didn’t respond, afraid that he might lash out at the only friend he’s managed to keep throughout the years. He thought about the last statement a lot, wondering if all he ever really felt was the physical attraction.

But no, that pull you feel when you look at someone for the fist time, watching there movements with whatever tasks they’re doing at the moment, even if it’s nothing at all. Falling entranced with there every gesture, taking in every curve and colour, memorising every feature.

It wasn’t just looking at their appearance, it was taking note of how they moved, how they acted, how they laughed, god there laugh is like music to your ears. It was watching and observing, that’s what Ned missed in his little speech.

Then of course you have the people who don’t believe in love, which was something he could understand.

Before he saw you.

For Peter, love was not a strong enough word to describe what he felt for his one true love. The way you made his heart stop with one smile, his face red with one touch, his hands sweat with one word. In your eyes, he found his entire world.

And he destined for you to be his.

The countess nights he spent dreaming of you, laying besides him. He longed to touch you, to feel your skin against his, to mark you with his love. He shocked himself with the self control he had to maintain around you especially when it came to the people you hung out with.

The amount of times he wanted to run out of hiding and crack the skull of some idiot who decided to talk to you or dare even look at you in any suggestive matter. The thought make him gag every time, but he’d like to think that you already knew that he was looking over you, that you belonged to him. That’s why you never took any of them on, that’s why you turned them down.

He couldn’t blame them for trying, but they had no chance since they would be gone the next day.

Which is why he hoped you could forgive him for what he did, for what he had to do.

The body laid in the back seat, wrapped tightly in a bag. There was no blood spilled, sadly, only the indents of his hands on the base of his neck.

It was fun, watching the life drain from his eyes as he listed off every bad thing he’s ever done, mainly to you, but he threw in a few more ex’s just to spice things up a bit more. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed him, maybe he should’ve just let him walk free with the threats he shoved down his throat.

But then he had to call you a bitch, from that point he knew his life would just be a waste of oxygen.

Peter let out a chuckle at the memory, at the fake confidence he showed, struggling in his hold. It truly was a sight to behold, one that made his realise why he enjoyed being Spiderman so much.

Seeing people suffer for there terrible mistakes and knowing that he had the power to punish them.

The drive was long and quiet, one of his hands was on top the steering wheel, tapping to an imaginary beat while the other settled on the arm rest. The streets were rather empty at this hour to Peter’s surprise, making him smirk that he would get away with the murder.

Maybe he could’ve stolen a better car.

But he was doing everyone a favour and he was keeping you safe.

He took a right into a dense forest, his car moving with with the bumps on the course road. When he felt like he was deep enough down the path, he hit the breaks, cringing at the squeaking noise it made.

Regardless, the exited the vehicle, opening the trunk to grab a shovel. He knew that there were a number of more efficient ways to get rid of the body, one that could’ve used his position in the avengers to his advantage, but his old techniques started to grow repetitive.

It didn’t take him as long as he thought though, the hole he dug was around eight feet deep and hopefully the right size to fit the body. Dropping the shovel to the floor, he walked back to the car not to worried about his surroundings knowing that no one ever visited this part of the forest.

He grabbed the body from the back seat, throwing it over his shoulder carrying it to the hole and tossing it inside without care. He smiled at the bag as he filled the hole a quarter of the way.

“Time to find an animal now shall we?” He whispered to himself, pulling out the hunters knife from the back of his pants along with a flash light, “Just incase,”

As he walked threw the trees and bushes, keeping look out for any movements he heard a gun shot cut threw the air. He gripped his knife, walking carefully towards the noise.

Oh how he was sorry for the poor lad that decided to be here this night, but he had too do what had to be done.

Suddenly he was sent back by a force jumping on his back. He fell to the floor with a thud, his body forcefully turned over with a gun pointed directly between his eyes.

“Y/n?” He froze, his breath becoming heavier at how close your face was to his. Now he understood why his spider senses didn’t alert him, because you weren’t a threat to him, you could never be.

“Peter,” you whispered, lowering your gun, scrambling off of his body much to his dismay, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” He asked back, still shocked at you proximity to him, talking with him, breathing the same air as him.

“You answer first,” you said quickly.

“No you,” Peter said back, crossing his arms.

“I-,” you started, but looked down, trying to hide your bashfulness, but it only drew attention to the blood dripping from your hair.

“Baby,” Peter whispered, walking up to you to grab your face, any sense of self control left his body after seeing the state you were in, “What happened,”

Peter thought it was some attack on you and judging by the amount of blood covering your skin, you had to defend yourself. He expected you to look up with the innocent eyes he’s studied for so long, finally getting a chance to get a closer look.

But instead, you raised your head with a sinister smile gracing your feature, you stepped out of his embrace, taking his hand in yours.

“Let me show you,” you whispered, in an almost sultry voice sending shivers down his spine.

You pulled him to a tree, taking the flashlight held in his fingers and pointed the light to the base of the trunk. Peter stared confused at the sight, walking forward slightly to inspect the slumped body. It was tied down tightly with rope around the waist and mouth, cutting threw the skin deeply showing signs of struggle. There was multiple stab wounds in the stomach, words carved in there legs that he couldn’t make out with the dirt and blood covering them. He did however notice his name on her forehead and the bullet wound in the middle.

The streaks of blond in the hair falling in front of the face told him that this body belonged to Gwen Stacy.

“When she started talking to you I could see how uncomfortable she made you,” you started, looking to the floor while playing with the dirt with the sole of your shoe, “I- I didn’t like how close she got to you, and- and since she bothered you too I- I thought we were doing us both a favour,”

Peter stood back up, looking back at you. He wondered how somebody so insane could hide it so well. Even with the evidence painted over you, he still saw you as incapable of ever doing anything like this.

The thought made him laugh loudly, walking up to you and grabbing your face.

“I fucking love you,” he laughed more, making you smile brightly as he put his forehead against yours, “You’re perfect I swear,”

You laughed along with him, putting away your gun in your pack pocket, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’ve- I’ve so long for this,” you giggled, pressing your nose into his neck, basking in his sick scent, “But, what are you doing here?”

Peter giggled as well, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Same reason at you my love,”

Your eyes widened, you placed your hand on his cheek, bringing his lips back into yours. It was longer and sloppier than the first, both of you getting use to the movements but also desperate for the feeling.

Peter backed you up against another tree, pressing his body against yours, his deluded mind not reregistering how fucked up the situation was, but he loved every second. His lips moved down to your neck, sucking and bitting at the skin, drawing out delicious moans from your mouth.

“Fuck,” you sputtered, biting your lip and tangling your fingers in his hair, both of you not paying mind to the blood, sweat and dirt, “I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long Peter,”

“Me too baby,” he said, tightening his hold on your waist, “Me too, now how about we hide these bodies together hmm?” He tickled your sides lightly, grinning at the giggle you let out, “Then I’m gonna take you home and make up for lost time,”

...

--->Interested in more? check out my other Dark!Peter fic<---

Hearts, reblogs and comments always appreciated 🥰

Taglist: @jadegill @joyleenl @ietss

#peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter #dark!peter parker x reader #dark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x gn!reader #dark!peter parker x dark!reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #yandere!peter parker

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liquorisce · 4 years ago

Text

... i’ll protect you from your dreams

written for @kyoruweekofficial day 2 prompt: dream

fandom: fruits basket

rating: t

summary: some nights when kyo is fragile, he seeks comfort in tohru’s arms. OR

“I dreamt I couldn’t be with you,” he murmurs, quietly, unsure if Tohru was still awake. “… that you would choose someone else.”

Everything feels different.

“… Well, I hope it fits you. I have to admit, you are a bit, uhm, thinner than I accounted for.”

“It’s fine,” he says, and it comes out as a rasp, and his voice sounds different to his own ears, different without the echo of the small, dark room. It feels strange almost, the faint chill of the breeze against his arm, the burn of the sun on his face.

“Here, got you lunch… in case you were hungry.”

Kyo squints at the paper bag, daylight far too bright for his ill-adjusted eyes as he carefully unwraps the burger he was presented with. When was the last time he’d eaten food that wasn’t prepared in the Sohma kitchen?

“… Maybe we should just sit in my room?”

Kyo nods, looking over at the soft voice that was speaking to him. Never had he imagined that 5 years into isolation, the first person he would greet in the fresh, open air… would be Yuki.

Yuki gestures for Kyo to sit on the bed and he does, sinking into the mattress, the plush type that the rat boy had always had a taste for.

He’s silent and the only noise in the room is the crunch of the burger in Kyo’s mouth. “I asked them to leave out the onions,” Yuki says with a grin.

Kyo offers one in return, but it’s feeble. Everything feels feeble about him, now that he’s stepped into the outside world.

There’s more silence, and Kyo finishes his meal, grateful to have eaten something different. “… I guess I should probably try that on, huh,” he mumbles, eyeing the black suit that Yuki had laid out for him.

Yuki eyes him hesitantly. “… A shower, first. And a shave. It’s a wedding, not a funeral.”

He cringes visibly, not that he needed reminding of the occasion. He’d had months, weeks and days to prepare for this, with little else to do in his chamber of darkness, except sit with his thoughts.

It seemed simple in theory, he thinks, as the warm jet of water hits him. It wasn’t a shocking revelation that they would come to this day. He’d been preparing for it since his final year of high school.

He takes in his reflection, and realizes that Yuki is right. He had grown thinner. His cheekbones showed so clearly, you couldn’t just call them defined anymore, it was definitely jutting. Sighing, he lifted the razor to his cheeks.

“The new look suits you, Kyo-kun,” she’d said with a shy smile when she’d first seen his beard.

How long ago was that? A year after his confinement? She was probably just being nice, he thinks bitterly as he shaves it off completely.

(He doesn’t want to think of her bitterly. He has no right.)

“Some people are just blessed,” Yuki quips, as he walks out of the bathroom, towel at his hips. “… even at your worst, you still have more ab definition than I do.”

Kyo smiles weakly. “… Still couldn’t beat you if I tried.”

Their interactions had changed so much, he wonders what his young self would think if he’d see them today. If only he knew that the boy who he’d spent his whole life hating would be the one visiting him every other weekend, sneaking in treats, bringing him word from the others… arguing with Akito to make sure he was allowed outside, just for today.

He slips on the white shirt, thankful that he doesn’t drown in it. Yet.

“… Hey, Kyo.” Yuki’s tone betrays his worry, and Kyo isn’t ready for it yet. He isn’t ready to talk about these feelings that haven’t left him since he first heard the news.

“… Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I promised her,” he mutters, so many years ago, on the rooftop, a precious memory that she’s probably forgotten, but he just can’t seem to.

“I know, but she’ll understand. This must be… difficult for you. You don’t have to put yourself through this,” -

“… I said I’d support her!”

He’s taken aback by his own outburst, but that’s the truth of it. It’s a promise he’d made to her, the love of his life, when they were young and seventeen and he’d already realized that this was all he could do. He’d support her love no matter what. No matter who.

But it was also a promise he’d made to himself, the last precious memory he is holding on to before he truly gives up.

But no amount of preparation or self pep talks comes to his aid when he sees her walk in, long flowing dress in peach pink, veiled, with Hanajima and Uotani by her side. His mind is blank first because the immensity of what he is witnessing is too much for him.

When he said goodbye to her 5 years ago and she cried for him, embraced him in the only way that was awkwardly possible, it was him walking away. It was a future he’d spent his whole life running away from, but when he went inside, it was still him who left.

But when he sees her, sees Tohru, beautiful and radiant, just like he remembered her, but somehow so much more, it’s brutal because this time it’s her walking, only walking down the aisle. Towards someone else.

He’d never thought his heart could break a second time, but it did and it’s worse because he’d never paid attention to this ugly, painful, thing called hope that had tried desperately to glue the pieces together - and it crushes him.

Kyo is standing on the corner of the aisle, and as Tohru comes closer, he can feel himself splintering inside.

“… Kyo-kun,” she says, her voice quivering. It takes a moment for him to realize that she’s stopped in front of him, that she’s standing barely two steps away from him, and she hasn’t been this close in years…

When he looks up to see her, he’s shocked to see a stricken look on her beautiful features. “Kyo-kun,” she gasps, worried, “what are you doing here?”

“… Why aren’t you up there?”

“Hana-chan, Uo-chan, who is that?” She asks, frantic, pointing to the man in the black suit at the altar. “Why is Kyo-kun not standing at the altar like we practiced?”

“Tohru…”

“Kyo-kun,” she cries, reaching for his face, “What happened to you? You look so different… so sad…”

Tears are streaming down his face, and the feeling in his chest tightens as she throws her arms around him whispering, “Kyo-kun, come back to me…”

“Tohru, no,” he rasps, afraid because there’s so many people around - he can’t afford to transform, but he can’t shake her off. “Please, I,” -

He wakes up heaving, sweat and tears running down his face. The sadness, the pain… it’s visceral, gripping at his chest.

And Tohru - God, she was crying too, scared, worried tears, holding on to him, like she’d never let go.

It’s then that he takes note of the arm entwined with his, on the futon.

He curses softly when he sees her, relief overwhelming him, when he sees her brown hair spread across the sheets, her mouth parted blissfully in her slumber.

He is overcome with the urge to hold her, and so he does, loosening his arm from her hold and wrapping himself around her, so close that her smell drives away the remnants of his nightmare.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, stirring, “… Kyo..?”

“Sorry,” he whispers into her hair, “… I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“… You’re so warm,” she giggles, but she stops short when she feels something wet on her neck.

She stiffens, alarmed. “… Kyo-kun?”

His hold tightens and she sinks into it, clutching his arm tightly. “You’re trembling… what’s wrong?”

She can hear his breathing, rough, panicked. “Tohru… Please…”

“Kyo-kun, what is it? Did you have a bad dream?” She turns towards him, cradling his face.

“… Hold me, please,” he whispers, and she does tightly, letting him burrow his face into her chest, caressing his back softly.

When his breathing calms, and his sobs have quietened, he realises how shaken he was by the picture in his head.

“I dreamt I couldn’t be with you,” he murmurs, quietly, unsure if Tohru was still awake. “… that I would be locked up… that you would choose someone else,” -

“Never.” Her grip tightens around him.

She kisses his forehead softly, wiping away the dampness on his cheeks, trying her best to stop her own tears from falling. Things have changed now, and mistakes have been forgiven, but the damage it’s done could never be undone.

And with Kyo fragile in her arms tonight, she’s not sure that it’s something she’ll ever forgive.

So she vows to protect it, the fragility of his heart, the wounds he desperately tries to hide, the love he so freely showers upon her.

“Don’t you know, Kyo-kun,” she whispers gently against his mouth, “… I’d never have let them take you away from me.”

- fin -

day 1 submission

@kyoruweekofficial

#kyoru #kyoruweek2020 #fruits basket #liquorisce fanfiction #kyo sohma #tohru honda

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americasmarauders · 5 years ago

Text

Delicate-- Jason Todd.

author’s note: this is definelty not my best work, but this has been sitting on my docs for a while and I can’t make it any better. Sooooo, here is a song fic with yours truly jason.

masterlist

The dive bar on the east side of Gotham was his most favorite place. It was perfect. Crowded, but not too much so he could still go unnoticed by most. Cheap, but not too cheap, that way he knew the drinks were legal and not contraband. Clean, but not too clean to give off an air of pretentiousness that most bars on the central part of the city gave him.

Jason would go there all the time. Before patrols, so he could listen to the shady crowd that attended the bar and pick up some clues on some shady activities he could destroy. Those were the days he sat on the back, and carefully observed the movements that adorned the bar on those late afternoons. Those were the days he did not drink.

After patrols, he would sit at the bar, most of the times only without his helmet and armor. He would order scotch, neat, no ice, and would quietly drink as he observed the bartender. The bar was always mostly empty by the time he got there, so she was always tidying it up the place, cleaning cups and tables, washing the floor. She looked like she didn’t mind him being there, and Jason thought it to be the truth. She looked like she didn’t belong at a dive bar at the ends of Gotham city, at the prime of her life, cleaning messes that drunk thugs left behind. But, alas, she was, and Jason wanted to know why.

He slammed his glass on the counter. She flinched behind him, dropping the mop she was holding. They were the only people in the bar.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely. She had seen a lot inside her bar, and she concluded that politeness was always the best course of action. It would never make you target. She directed herself towards the other side of Jason. She grabbed the bottle of scotch he enjoyed—he had been there so many times, it was natural to pick on his habits. She poured him another glass and stared at him.

“Why do you work here?” he mustered up the courage to say. He had been wondering about it for a while, but he never had actually said something to her, too afraid to get attached.

“Excuse me?” she said as she put aside the bottle of scotch. His favorite bottle.

“You look like someone who shouldn’t be working at a… place like this,” he motioned to the bar around him.

“Are you implying that I’m weak?” she narrowed her eyes at him, looking over her shoulder.

“No, I’m saying that you look like someone who should have gone out of Crime Alley,” he took a sip of his drink.

She chuckled and turned to him. She picked up a rag and poured a bit of vodka on it and started to clean the counter. “This is my parents bar, I’m helping them keep the lights on,” she explained.

He picked up his wallet and put the money on the counter. “That’s very noble of you,” Jason said. He got up and started to walk to the door, careful not to dirty up the floor she had just cleaned.

She eyes the money. He had left considerably more than he should have. “Wait, you paid more than you should.”

He rested his hand on the doorknob and for the first time that night, he looked into her eyes. “Keep it,” he smiled.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you,” she said. He smiled in return and left.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“What?”

“The pettiness of life,” she said, cleaning the cup Jason had just emptied. “It is so fickle, isn’t it? You try and try but, in the end, you don’t have control over it. You are forever in the hands of fate”

Jason felt her words hit close to his heart, so much that he wondered if she could read minds. He soon discarded this idea, it was possible, but highly unlikely. “Yeah, weird,” he said awkwardly.

His eyes wandered off to the rest of the bar as the last costumer of the day approached her to pay his due. All the booths had emptied out, as the night turned into day slowly, Jason being the last one out. His eyes landed on the old jukebox on the far corner of the bar. He had noticed it was there but never truly saw it until that moment. It shone on the dark, like a beacon asking for him to come near. He got up from his seat, walking slowly towards the juke box.

She took notice of his actions, as she closed the door and all of its locks. She smiled; the jukebox had that effect sometimes. She rested the keys on top of the counter of the bar and walked towards the stunned Jason—even though later he would deny wholeheartedly he was not stunned, nor perplexed.

“My Father used to play me these songs all the time when I was a little kid,” she said leaning against the jukebox. “But there was one that was my absolute favorite,” she put on a quarter and pressed a few buttons, “I used to play it on repeat. I know that if my Father hears it, he will break this jukebox just out of spite,” she chuckled. The song started to play, and she closed her eyes and started to hum.

Jason smiled. “Would you like to dance?” he said, making her open her eyes in surprise.

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” he caught her hand in his and guided her to the melody of the song.

She smiled coyly, trying to hide it. Jason felt a bubble of satisfaction and happiness burst inside of him. If only his younger self could see him now, he would have received a huge kick in the shin for being so soft and silly around a girl. To hell with his younger self, he died for a reason.

They swayed to the harmony of the soft song. Jason couldn’t contain the dumb smile he had on his face; this woman was special, and he knew all too well. She took a deep breath and rested her head on Jason’s chest, sending flutters all over his body. “I may not know a lot about you, but I trust you Jason,” she said softly.

“I—thank you,” he whispered.

“And when you’re ready to tell me all about you, I’ll be here,” she completed, fluttering her eyes close.

“It’s…delicate,” he explained himself.

“It’s okay,” she looked up at him. She reached for his cheek and planted a sweet kiss on it. She released herself from his embrace as the song came to a close. “I need to close the bar. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with a bright smile on her face.

He needed somewhere to crash. Somewhere close. He felt the hurt of his wounds increase, as his uniform grew wetter with his blood. His eyesight was getting blurrier, and he probably shouldn’t be driving his bike.

Text, he should send a text to let her know. Yes, stop the bike and send the text. He looked over his shoulder, no one was actively following him. He needed to stop and send her a text. He stopped. ‘Meet me in the back’. Now, drive. Only a few more blocks.

Her phone lighted up next to the cash register. She stopped cleaning the last of the glasses. She had just closed the bar.

‘Meet me in the back’, it read. Her bones chilled. Unknown number. She put her phone on her back pocket and grabbed the baseball bat she kept under the bar just in case. She quietly made her way towards the back door, while three hastily and hesitant knocks echoed through the pantry.

Criminals wouldn’t sound hesitant while knocking the door, would they? No, they would bang the door until it fell off. But that was Gotham, she couldn’t let her guard down. She kept the bat firm in her hand while she opened the door with the other.

Jason was struggling to keep himself straight before her, his face fighting to not cringe in pain. He looked up at her, and she immediately dropped the bat and ushered him inside, not mentioning that he was wearing a red bat symbol on his chest and that she had never seen his eyes in that shade of blue before.

“What happened?” she asked, worried.

“I might have been slightly stabbed,” he said, trying to mask his pain. “This might not be the first time this has happened either.”

“Okay,” she said while frantically looking for her first aid kit. He laid on the floor, and she prayed she had scrubbed it enough to not give him an infection. “Please hang on,” she pleaded.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, suppressing every ounce of him that made him want to grunt in pain.

She had found the first aid kit. Now onto the vodka. And a needle. She kept a needle somewhere. She left the pantry and quickly came back with a bottle of pure vodka and a needle in her other hand.

“What are you going to do with that vodka?” Jason said already knowing the answer.

She opened the lid and poured it on the needle. She then proceeded to rip of Jason’s armor. As soon as the cut was revealed, she poured the drink onto it. Jason Screamed in pain. “YOU COULD HAVE WARNED” he said in pain.

She took a swig at the bottle, drinking a considerable part of the drink. “If I did you would have tensed and prevented me from doing.”

She closed the bottle and opened the first aid kit. Was there a thread in there she could use to close his wound? She should have put it there. She took out bags of gauze and cotton to find the closed package of surgical thread she had once bought in case she hurt herself. Hospitals were a luxury to her, and she couldn’t afford that. Thank God she never needed it. Now, she was sewing closed her… It was too delicate to say what Jason was to her. But he couldn’t get out of her head. In her dreams, when she closed her eyes, he was everywhere.

She looped the thread into the needle and started to sew. “I’m sorry you’re in pain, but I promise to make it quick. I took a course once of first aid and I was the best student in it.”

“Are you serious?”

“About the course? Yes,” she deliberately chose not to say that she almost dropped out of the course because she was constantly fainting. He wouldn’t trust her to do this, and she was well into the sewing and she hadn’t felt lightheaded once. It must have been the adrenaline. Or the large amount of vodka she had just ingested.

“I’m sorry about this,” Jason said. “I couldn’t go anywhere else,” he hid the fact that he could go to somewhere else, only he didn’t want to hear an earful of Bruce Wayne’s trademarked bullshit, so he chose to go to her bar.

“It’s okay, Jason, really. But you do have some explaining to do, I’m afraid.”

He looked at his injury and saw that she was almost finished closing it shut. “I know,” he whispered.

“Because, I—” she took a deep breath. “I can’t get you out of my head, Jason. You are everywhere, and I can’t help but wonder if you…” she gulped before continuing, “if you ever dream of me the way I dream of you.”

He looked stunned at her. “There. Finished,” she covered the injury with some gauze and medical tape and closed her first aid kit. She quickly glanced over Jason, “I know that it’s delicate, but I hope that it’s cool that I said all of that,” with that she left the small pantry.

He had to pull himself together. This was it, wasn’t it? He had done it. HE had gotten attached. And maybe it didn’t feel so bad after all. Jason had this imagery in his head that the moment he had created a bond with her, the world would end in flames and crowbars all over again. It definitely didn’t end in flames or crowbars, but maybe it did end in stab wounds and intense pain caused by vodka in his open flesh.

He sat up straight. Breathe in. Out now. He owed her more than half-assed ‘I know’s and the possibility of a heart attack in the middle of the night because of enigmatic texts.

“Before you say anything back,” Jason leaned at the frame of the open pantry door, his right hand over the recently shut wound. “you need to know that maybe this ain’t for the best.”

She breathed, almost in mockery. “What?”

“My reputation’s never been worse, so you can’t like me for any fantasy you have created in your head,” he said. Jason walked to her, and grabbed her hands, his still a bit tainted in red. His hands were calloused, but it was perfect. “You must like me for me.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t utter a word, so she just nodded.

“We can’t make any promises, baby,” his hands found her cheek and she had never felt a softer touch, “but you can make me a drink. And I’ll tell you everything.”

final note: here is a link to my jason playlist. enjoy.

#jason todd fanfiction #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason tood headcanon #jason todd x y/n #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x oc #red hood x y/n #song fic #to support my headcanon that jay is a taytay fan #i'm linking my playlist so you can listen in its entire grandure #my masterlist

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panda-noosh · 6 years ago

Text

One and the Same {Klaus x Reader}

Words: 5.6k

Summary: Klaus Hargreeves goes back to rehab.

Genre: angst

Warning: mentions of murder - mentions of drug abuse - mentions of withdrawal - mentions of injections

Notes: klaaaaaaaaaus.

tagging: @purplemetahuman

---

Reginald Hargreeves was dead.

The news arrived early in the morning, your trembling body startling itself awake at the crack of dawn, as it did almost every day. With your teeth chattering and your arms aching, legs barely lifting from the floor, you trotted downstairs to the living area, switched on the TV, and that was when his face appeared in front of you.

You had never met the man. In fact, you had actively avoided him for the entirety of your existence. In some ways, his death should have been a relief for you, a chance for you to finally live the life you wanted without the fear of him lingering behind you.

But that relief wasn't there.

Maybe it was because you had spent so long just looking at him; part of you felt like you were experiencing a death in the family, even though claiming Reginald Hargreeves as a member of your family was the last thing you would ever want to do; he was a criminal at best, deserving of his untimely end at worst.

But still. There was that tight ache in your chest, not so much grief as it was a sense of disbelief. A man you had never met, a man who barely even knew you existed – and yet there you sat, gawking at the TV with your teeth chattering and your muscles heavy, barely able to believe what it was you were hearing.

Klaus arrived at the rehab centre not a few weeks after the news had broke, and seeing him there was enough to make your head spin even worse than it did on a daily basis. He walked through the doors with that happy smile on his face, waving and complimenting the shocked expressions that greeted him when he walked in the door, because he wasn't exactly an expected sight; everybody knew of him, especially now that Reginald was dead.

“That's him from the Umbrella Academy,” they would whisper every time he walked past. “Don't mess with him.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away.

It could have been you. That petty, childish mindset was all you could focus on when you saw him, because the truth was there – it could have been you. You could have been the one getting praised, the one that was feared, the one that was unbothered by anybody or anything because you knew you could take them on if you wanted, and they knew it too.

Because despite what the news liked to portray, it wasn't just the seven Hargreeves children who had been born on that day in 1989 – there had been 43 of them, and you were unlucky enough to be included in that count.

---

The day Klaus Hargreeves arrived at the rehab centre, you ignored him entirely.

It wasn't out of pettiness, wasn't out of fear – it was purely to keep yourself safe, and your identity hidden from him for as long as possible. Quite frankly, you saw absolutely no reason as to why you should introduce yourself to him, but word got around. Word always got around. Names were shared, and people spoke about you even when you didn't want them to – eventually, Klaus was aware of who you were, and he didn't keep his curiosity a secret when it came to wanting to meet you.

He was always bold, and you knew that. You had seen the news coverage on him, the little clips of him and his siblings stopping a bank robbery or saving some terrified hostages; he was always the one who was throwing himself about, doing the most to keep the attention on him.

Clearly, things hadn't changed as he grew older. In fact, looking at him from across the room now, you concluded that things had gotten worse long before they had gotten better.

“Where's this Y/N character you were talking to me about?” he asked, parading into the living room with good old Sebastian at his side; Sebastian was a recovering drug addict, and spent his down-time talking about everyone he could think about.

He pointed at you, and you quickly ducked your head down when Klaus turned to follow the direction he was indicating; it was much too late, however, as Klaus had already seen you. It wasn't difficult, considering you were sat on your own in the corner. There was nobody else to decipher from.

His footsteps were loud and clumsy. You didn't even look up, simply biting down on your bottom lip, rubbing the injection scars that trailed along your veins. Klaus waited patiently before realising you weren't going to give him the time of day unless he started the conversation.

“You must be Y/N. I've heard an awful lot about you.”

You glanced up. “Is that right? Good things?”

“Decent things,” he said, before lowering his voice to a whisper. “Also some absurd things that I'm quite curious about.”

You couldn't disguise the wince, hands tensing on the cover of the book you were trying to read. “Is that right?”

“Is that your catchphrase? I heard superheroes always had catchphrases, but I don't think I ever caught on to that trend.”

“I'm not a superhero.”

He lowered himself to the ground in front of you, crossing his legs before idly playing with the Velcro on your shoes. “So you're one of the lucky bastards who got away from Mr Reginald Hargreeves back in 1989. You must think me and my siblings are total idiots for letting ourselves get whisked away by him.”

“You were children.”

Klaus raised a brow. His dilated eyes widened a little bit. “You're not denying the first part of my statement, which-” He clapped his hands excitedly. “-totally confirms my suspicions!”

“Could you keep your mouth shut?” you hissed, grabbing his shoulders and shoving him back. He laughed, throwing his head back wildly as he caught himself. His elbows bent in on themselves, giving you a good view of the injection scars that littered his own flesh – self consciously, you rubbed a finger over your own, trying not to let your brain retreat back into the disaster you had been trying to wrestle it from for the past three weeks.

“This is incredible!” he exclaimed, looking back up at you. He was grinning much too widely for someone currently locked within a rehabilitation centre. The expression looked odd against the light blue walls. “I've never met anyone else like me – I was pretty sure the others killed themselves.” He shook his head, still grinning. “And by the looks of things, you weren't far off doing the same thing.”

You gaped. “You have some nerve.”

“I still don't know what your abilities are, so I don't know what you want me to be afraid of.” He leaned forward, perched his chin on his hand and stared up at you like a child might stare up at their teacher reading a story. “Why don't you give me a quick demonstration so I can-”

You were working before he had even finished his sentence; the anger was uncontrollable, and with the state you had been in these past couple of weeks, your abilities were near enough uncontrollable, too. They flared up, a pain dancing behind your eyes that transcended from your skull and fought its way over to Klaus.

His own eyes popped open, a cry escaping him before he fell onto his back, gripping his stomach.

You stopped before things could get too far, but didn't let yourself regret what had just happened. Instead, you stood up, folded your arms over your chest and said, “There. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Klaus started to laugh, still gripping his stomach as his breath came back to him. He looked up at you, amusement still glinting in his brown eyes. “That was exactly what I wanted to know.”

---

“I don't like talking about it. I'm not like you – I didn't have to flaunt it because my dad told me to. I had the choice.”

Klaus scoffed. “I don't know whether to take that as an insult or not.”

You shrugged, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your trousers. The sun was out today, shining against the still water of the tiny lake that the psychiatrists and the doctors tried to make you look at at least once a day – apparently nature helped with 'mental balance' though it had been three weeks and you were yet to see any results.

Klaus was by your side. You weren't entirely sure why. He had done nothing but torment you from the moment you had met, and yet you found his company oddly reassuring. There was something about talking to someone who understood that opened up a whole new world of possibilities, a whole new range of colour that life let you choose from.

Klaus may not have the brightest colours, but they were a change you were willing to embrace.

“I'm sorry about your loss, by the way,” you said.

“Loss?” Klaus popped out his bottom lip, feigning ignorance. “I haven't suffered a loss. Not unless you count the MDMA they took off me at the door.”

“Your father. He died, didn't he?”

Klaus clicked as if only just now remembering the death of the man who had raised him. “Oh yeah, that! No, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Quite frankly, I think the ground is too good for him.”

You cringed; you should have expected that response, and yet it still sent a shiver down your spine. You loved your father. Had loved your father, once upon a time. Before things went bad, before your control slipped, followed shortly by your mental stability.

You pushed the thought from your mind, turned to Klaus and inspected his own expression. It was more a way of getting yourself grounded again; the curve of his jaw, the goatee he was sporting, the rough waves of his hair that looked like they hadn't been touched in years. There was still dabs of sweat adorning the side of his head, but you knew for a fact that that was just a staple characteristic of someone who had done drugs.

“No,” Klaus said, a little quieter this time. “You definitely shouldn't feel sorry for me. Him dying is . . . Well, I don't want to say a good thing, because that's a bit cynical, isn't it? And I'm clearly not celebrating, considering I came all the way here for his funeral, but . . . . No. Being sorry for me definitely isn't right.”

“It's weird though, isn't it?” You picked up a rock and awkwardly lobbed it into the lake, ignoring the startled quack from the duck you nearly hit. “Even if you hated him, you have to admit that losing a parent isn't . . . it isn't right. It feels weird.”

Klaus pursed his lips. He was yet to look at you, his eyes trained firmly on the lake in front of him. You saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his cheekbones sucked in before he released them and shrugged heavily. “I think I was a bit too high to really feel anything at all when I got the news, and the shock has passed at this point.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I get that.”

“I noticed.” Klaus finally looked down, nodding towards your exposed arms. It was instinct to fold them over your chest, hiding the scars that adorned your wrist from years of hateful injections. “Are those from drugs or from other people's experiments?”

You shivered. “Both.”

“Did they ever find anything out?”

“Most of them just called me a monster and sent me on my merry way. Others, I'm still waiting on the results.”

A ghost of a smile played upon Klaus's lips. He looked back at you and shrugged as if to say that's just the way of life, isn't it? and you could only shrug back. It was a silent agreement between you both, though you couldn't quite pinpoint what you were agreeing on – the fact that life was a bitch? The fact that it sometimes felt as if nothing was ever going to change? For Klaus, it had to have been ten times worse. He was in the public eye throughout the entirety of his childhood, was one of the biggest names around at one point. At least you had been given the choice to hide it, despite the few odd souls who had found out about your abilities and used them to their advantage.

Used you to their advantage.

“Have you spoken to your siblings since all of it happened?” you asked, needing something to fill the silence. Silence led to thinking, and that was the last thing you needed right now. It was the last thing you needed all the time.

“I have,” Klaus replied. “Just the usual arguments and insults and accusations – nothing I missed, to be honest. Although my brother Luther is built like a brick house now, which surprised me.”

“Luther. He's got the strength, hasn't he?”

“And the muscle to prove it, apparently.” Klaus shook his head, looking back down at his own arms. “God, I could go for a drink right now.”

“I don't think they'll let you do that.”

Klaus pouted. “That's where this whole thing is unfair. I had a drug problem, not a drinking problem – the least they could do is let me have a whiskey to calm my nerves.”

“Do you actually know how rehab works?”

Klaus snorted, glancing up at you. “Did you really just ask that?” As if to exaggerate his point, he unfolded his arms and showed you his scarring. “I really know how rehab works.”

You pushed his arms away. “Alright, you made your point.”

“Good.” He sighed, leaned back on the grass and ducked his head back to look up at the passing clouds. “It stopped the voices.”

You started, head snapping round to look at him. “What?”

“Drugs. Alcohol. Men. Women.” He shrugged, rolling his head to look back at you. “It made it all a bit easier, you know. It was the only thing that stopped me from losing it.” He scowled. “Although some people would argue that they didn't exactly do their job.”

“I don't think you're crazy. I think you're the same as me.”

“Very bold of you, Y/N. Maybe we're both crazy.”

You hummed low in your throat, slowly looking back out towards the lake. “Maybe.” ---

Some days were a lot worse than others.

The bad days you tried to avoid for obvious reasons, despite the advice of your psychiatrist. She always told you that it was better to let the bad days come, to welcome them with open arms because somehow, they could balance it all out. They were a confirmation that you could still feel things.

She didn't listen whenever you told her that you didn't want to feel things.

A bad day was detrimental. You locked yourself in your room, curled up in a corner until people got the memo – you didn't want to talk, didn't want to socialise, didn't want to do anything, and if they tried to get in the way of that, you would have absolutely no qualms about putting them in their place.

You leaned your head back against the window now, inhaling deeply as the trembles overtook your body. You had taken your first drug purely to rid yourself of feeling, of emotions. After your father had died, things hadn't been easy, and the only thing that shed light on the end of the tunnel was the drugs you would gather in your veins.

You wanted them now, needed them now as the voices echoed in your skull and the dull throb of withdrawal and your abilities thumped through your body. You clenched your teeth, squeezed your eyes closed, resisted the urge to scream-

“You can't get away from me that easily, Y/N L/N. I have eyes on the back of my head. They might not be my own, but they're there.”

Your own eyes snapped open, a weak cry of surprise slipping from your dried lips. Klaus, of course, was stood over you with his skinny arms folded over his chest and his hair slicked back in a half-up half-down style. He was grinning from ear to ear, despite the tremble of his own hands that had not turned off since he arrived.

“Go away,” you groaned, curling in on yourself and turning away from him. “I don't have the brain power to listen to you today.”

Klaus did the exact opposite, instead sitting beside you with his legs crossed. “Care to explain what's going on in that sweet little brain of yours?”

“Sorry. It's confidential.”

“Like most of your thoughts, it seems.”

“Not all of us are willing to be open books, Klaus.”

“Not all of you were forced to be open books,” he shot back, and you immediately closed your mouth and looked away – he had a point. You had the luxury of choosing who knew your business, whereas Klaus had long since passed that option considering his entire childhood had been broadcast for the world to gouge as they pleased.

“So,” he continued, leaning forward. “Are you gonna talk?”

You didn't even know where to start. Klaus reached forward and started playing with your shoes again, waiting patiently for you to start talking.

“I'm thinking of my dad again,” you said at last. Klaus did not respond to such a simple statement, and so you pushed on. “I used to . . . Whenever I thought of my dad, I used to shoot up so my brain would go all fuzzy and the thoughts would go away, but I obviously can't do that now. Whenever I think of my dad, I think about drugs, and whenever I think about drugs...”

“You get sick again,” Klaus finished.

“It's fine. It'll pass eventually.”

“Is your dad dead?”

The question startled you, made your stomach curl in on itself with the reality thrown behind the words. You looked up and met his eyes – he was staring right back at you, and despite the heaviness of the conversation, he still had that tiny little glint of amusement that overpowered every other expression he could have worn in that moment.

“Yeah,” you croaked out. “Yeah, he is.”

“How did he die?”

“Why do you care?”

He shrugged, letting go of your shoes and leaning back. “Maybe talking about him will help a little bit.”

Help. As if anyone could help you.

Nonetheless, you settled back against the corner you were propped up against and spoke the three words that still managed to make bile rise in your throat. “I killed him.”

Klaus was silent for only a second before he swallowed and said, “I wasn't expecting that.”

“Nobody ever is,” you replied. “It's a long story.”

“Good thing we're in rehab and have all the time in the world to waste.” You pursed your lips. “You know what my abilities are. I can hurt people without even touching them. I can control it better now because I understand it, and I know my body well enough to know when it's about to erupt. But back then, I didn't have a clue how to work it. It was so overwhelming, and every time someone got on my nerves, I would just – I would nearly kill them. My dad was the only one who ever knew how to stop me from losing control.

“But then it was him I was getting angry at. My mother had left because she couldn't handle me – she still never saw me as her kid, because she didn't know where I had come from. She wasn't-”

“Wasn't pregnant the day you were born,” Klaus hummed, nodding. “It was the same for me.”

You nodded slowly. “She just saw me as a burden, so she left. She lasted a good ten years, I'll give her that, but it got too much for her and she left me with my dad – her boyfriend. He took care of me. He calmed me down until things started getting difficult again.

“I started overthinking my mothers departure, and I got so angry at everyone and everything. My dad tried to calm me down one day whenever I had trashed the living room, and I just turned on him and snapped. He didn't even have time to scream before his pulse went stiff and he fell to the floor.”

You winced, biting down on your lower lip, raking your nails up and down your arms in any attempt to get the memory out of your head.

You expected Klaus to say something. Anybody else would have. They always had something to say, some disgusted noise to make and some unwelcome opinion to share; some people called you a monster, whilst others made the usual comment of, “And this is what happens when someone has power they can't tame.”

But Klaus said nothing along those lines. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his goatee-covered chin on top of them, looking at the ground with his lower lip protruded. He looked almost casual, as if the story you had just told him was some pleasant fairytale made to lull children to sleep.

You nudged him with your foot. “Say something.”

He shrugged heavily. “I don't know what you want me to say. Well done?”

“What?”

“How long ago did all of that happen?”

“I was . . . . I was ten, I think. Around ten.” In truth, you knew exactly how old you had been. Ten and eleven months. You remembered because your father had been planning your birthday party a month in advance, insisting that you get a decent party in comparison to the previous year – he had been working and had been unable to wish you a decent happy birthday.

“Let's see here,” Klaus said. “When I was ten, I had already become numb to the sight of dead bodies, I was being locked in a cellar with a bunch of corpses every weekend, and I had already killed too many people to keep track of.” He looked at you, raising a brow. “I don't have any judgement to pass, I'm afraid. Sorry to disappoint.”

You gawked at him, heart thundering in your chest. It wasn't because of any particular reason – not one you were willing to admit, but Klaus always managed to make you feel like that. Having spent the majority of your life being so different, being labelled the freak just because of where you came from and what you could do, it would never fail to shock you into silence whenever Klaus reminded you that he was just like you.

You swallowed thickly and looked away, unsure of how to respond.

“I didn't mean to put a damper on the mood,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I understand. What you did obviously wasn't alright-” You winced. Klaus quickly reached over, placing his large hands over your own. “-but I understand.”

Maybe one day those words would be enough. Maybe the knowledge of somebody understanding would settle your brain one day. It was good that Klaus had got the ball rolling.

---

“Just know that you can say no to this at any moment if you feel like it's getting too much.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raised; as per usual, Klaus had pushed aside a casual greeting and had instead opted for stampeding into your room uttering absolute nonsense.

“What have you done now?” you asked, setting your book beside you and pushing yourself up into a sitting position. “Also, lower your voice. You're not allowed in my room, remember?”

Klaus rolled his eyes but kicked the door closed anyway. It slammed with a loud bang that rattled the windows, but you refrained from saying anything – when it came to Klaus, sometimes it was just better to let him do what he wanted.

He waltzed over to your bed and set himself down, folding one leg over the other before turning to you with a pair of pursed lips and curious eyes. You had seen this expression on his face plenty of times before in the last few months – he was plotting something, and that usually wasn't a very good thing.

“Klaus....,” you drawled. “What have you done?”

“I haven't done anything. Yet.” He grinned. “Nothing except get sober, which is kind of the building blocks for this little plan.”

“Little plan?”

“I want to let you talk to your dad.”

You opened your mouth to respond, something casual and sarcastic, because that was just how you and Klaus always spoke to each other. However, the words died in your throat as soon as you managed to register exactly what it was he had just said.

Your head snapped round to face him, jaw falling open, panic crawling into your throat even though nothing had even been confirmed yet. Klaus noticed your widening eyes and your sudden lurch in breath and reached forward, cupping your face before the panic could get out of control.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me, alright? Look at me.”

You did so. You had to.

He tilted his head forward, clunking his forehead against your own. “Don't you go panicking on me, alright? I promise it's not a risky procedure. I've done it plenty of times before, and nothing is going to happen.”

“You're going to speak to my dad. The man I killed.”

“The man you killed accidentally,” Klaus corrected, pulling away. “I know I said you could say no at any point, but the voices are already coming through, so if you want to just sit back and listen-”

You grabbed his arm. “Klaus, what are you-”

But it was too late. It happened too fast. Klaus may have had good practice with his abilities, but you had to remember that he had been off his head on drugs since he was a young boy – the control he once had couldn't have been in it's prime, whether he was sober now or not. Judging by the tangled look on his face, he couldn't fight the voices off as well as he would have liked to.

You watched him closely. He closed his eyes, bit his bottom lip to suppress an obvious smile before his eyes burst open and he was staring straight ahead. Almost immediately his expression softened, his grin going from manic to kind in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, Mr L/N, you are a handsome bloke!”

Your heart stopped. “Klaus...”

He laid a hand on your own, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze. “I know, Y/N is looking well. The rehab has really helped fixed some things. Oh, come on, sir. Please don't start crying, or else I'll start getting teary-eyed and that's the last thing I want.”

You slapped his arm. “Tell me what he's saying.”

“Oh right, right,” said Klaus. “He was just telling me how well you're looking. He's been looking over you since you were young, and he was devastated when you started taking drugs.” Klaus raised a brow. “Bit of an insult there towards me, but I'll let it slide.”

“Stop getting distracted,” you hissed. You hadn't realised it, but you were gripping onto Klaus's arm for dear life.

“He's just happy that you're healthy again,” Klaus continued. “Do you have anything you want to say to him?”

You had so much you wanted to say to him, so much you needed to say to him, or else how would he ever understand? But being confronted with the question had you falling short; your throat closed over, tears springing to the surface. Klaus shot you a curious glance, curled his fingers around your own as you dug crescent moons into his skin with how tight you were gripping onto him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded slowly. “Just tell him I'm sorry.”

“You can say it yourself, you know. He can hear you, even if you can't hear him.”

“Dad,” you croaked out, the word feeling odd and heavy on your tongue because it had been so long since you allowed yourself to say such a thing. “Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I know it won't be enough, it can never be enough, but I'm trying so hard to make myself into a better person for you. I want to be a person you can be proud of, whether you're there to see it or not.”

Klaus paused for a moment. “He said he's always going to be there to see it. He's been there since you were eleven years old.”

You closed your eyes, the words smacking into you like a ton of bricks. Klaus sighed heavily, reached round and tugged you into his side. You would usually pull away from him. His jacket would forever smell like weed, and his goatee was rough against the side of your face, but the warmth his comfort brought was enough to have you sinking into his side and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“He says he doesn't like seeing you cry,” Klaus mumbled. “Listen, old man, they're a bit upset at the minute, alright? Cut the kid some slack.”

“He never liked me crying,” you sniffed, trying desperately to wipe the tears off your face. “Fuck, he probably thinks I'm a right wimp.”

“He may have said that once or twice already.” Klaus hissed, shooting upright and turning to the wall. “And apparently he's got a swing on him!”

You grabbed Klaus's arm, letting out a shaky laugh for the first time in what felt like years. Klaus looked back down at you, smiling softly at the sound of laughter – he was forever laughing, and you never understood how he did it, considering the circumstances he was in.

“I love you, Dad,” you said, finally. It seemed like the right thing to say, no matter how unfamiliar the words were after so long of not saying them.

Klaus paused, waiting for your dads response, but he didn't really need to say anything. You noticed the way his shoulders slackened, the way he looked away and smiled to nothing in particular – your father had responded nicely, and that was enough to have you grinning from ear to ear, despite the tear tracks staining your cheeks.

“He's gone,” Klaus said at last, turning to look at you. “He was a nice fella.”

You nodded. “Thank you for doing that, Klaus. You didn't have to.”

“It was the least I could do.”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“Well, you're the only one keeping me sane in this hell hole,” he replied. “The least I could do was give you some closure. And also, I needed to get in your dads good books before I tried anything. Gentleman etiquette and all that.”

You paused, staring at Klaus as if he had two heads. He looked back down at you, his grin only growing more and more the longer you stared at him.

He didn't elaborate. He didn't really need to – not with words. Not whenever your fingers were gripping his upper arm like your life depended on it, like you would truly fall through the centre of the earth if you let go.

You quickly detached your fingers, only just then realising how tightly you had been holding onto him. You made to draw back, but Klaus grabbed your wrists and tugged your hands back into his chest before you could get very far.

You swallowed. “Klaus...”

“You always say my name like that,” he said, shaking his head. “I never know what I've done wrong.”

“What are you doing?”

“Whatever you'll let me do.”

And in that moment, with your heart beating at a million miles per hour and that goofy smile playing on his lips, you would have let him do anything. That's why you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his own, only for a minute because human contact was scary and it was something you weren't used to, but you were willing to put those fears aside for the man who had just risked everything to let you speak to the man you missed most in the whole world.

Klaus responded immediately, his lips moulding against your own as if multiple practice rounds had been made beforehand. He let go of your wrists, cupped your jaw instead as your own arms wound around your waist and settled on his back belt loops.

The kiss was short lived, but it was enough. He clunked his forehead against your own, his hands falling from your face and dipping down to play with your shoes in that way he always did when you and him were talking.

“Klaus....,” you whispered.

He chuckled breathily, opened his mouth to reply-

A yelp escaped his throat. His head snapped round, his eyes narrowing before he span back around and stared at you in disbelief.

“What? What happened?” you demanded.

“Your dad's just thrown his fucking shoe at me!”

318 notes · View notes

heryellowcup · 7 years ago

Text

Good enough; Bechloe

inspired by the Robin/Barney scene from ‘How I met your mother’

[Barden University. Bellas house. Chloe's room. Beca and Chloe just woke up after spending the night together. They'd been secretly having sex the whole summer - no feelings involved. They also thought they'd been discrete and that nobody knew. They were wrong.]

[Chloe and Beca grin happily at each other before Beca gets out of bed and puts on a robe, obviously not wanting to leave the room in her naked state. She goes to open the door, but something's wrong.]

Beca: Uhh...what? The door knob's broken off. We're locked in here. Did you do this...?

[Chloe looks at her in confusion.]

Chloe: What? No?

[Beca sighs, rolls her eyes and slams against the door.]

Beca: Amy?? Amy, are you out there?

[Aubrey is sitting on the other side of the door. She was sick of Beca’s and Chloe’s... whatever it is that they were having. Because they were clearly in love. Everyone could see it; except for them.]

Aubrey: Amy's not here, Beca.

[Beca groans, immediately knowing what's going on.]

Beca: Aubrey, let us out of here.

[Aubrey just smirks.]

Aubrey: I'll be glad to. Just as soon as you and Chloe have 'the talk'.

Beca: Great...

Beca: Aubrey, come on!! Let us out!!

[Chloe gets up and puts on some clothes as well, annoyed.]

Aubrey: No. Sit down, define the relationship, write down that definition on a piece of paper, slip it under the door and if I like what I read, you can go.

Chloe: We are not having the talk!!!

Aubrey: Then you'll die in there.

Beca: You're gonna lock us in here? Well guess what, maybe we'll spend the whole day having sex!

[Hearing that, Chloe immediately moves to take off her shirt again. She'd never say no to that.]

Aubrey: Well, guess what? I brought Stacie with me, so maybe we'll do the same.

[Stacie waves awkwardly at the closed door in front of her.]

Stacie: Hey guys...

[After a while, Beca and Chloe slip the piece of paper under the door. But what's written on it doesn't convince Aubrey and Stacie in the slightest.]

Aubrey: Just hanging out...not good enough...

Stacie: Not good enough!!!

[Just like the next piece of paper that reads 'We're seeing where things are going...']

Aubrey: I'll tell you where things aren't going; out of that bedroom. Not good enough!

Stacie: Not good enough!!!

[Stacie gets bored after a while and comes up with a plan.]

Stacie: I think I know how to speed things up...

[Just a few minutes later, there are pancakes in front of the door. Chloe and Beca can clearly smell them.]

Beca: Oh, not cool!

[Turns around to look at Chloe.]

Beca: Ugh duude, I'm starving! Let's, let's just have the stupid talk...

[Chloe groans, wanting this just as much as Beca - not at all.]

Beca: Come on.

Chloe: Fine.

[The redhead suddenly gets a little self conscious, nervous, even.]

Chloe: But... how do these things even work? What do we say?

[Beca rolls her eyes when she hears Aubrey cough and she looks down at the door to see another piece of paper. She cringes when she reads the note.]

Beca: Where you do see this relationship going? Oh my god, that sounds so cheesy.

[They are both laughing.]

Chloe: I know right?

Beca: Totally! But uhhm... where do you see this relationship going?

[It's suddenly way too quiet in the room as they look at each other.]

Chloe: I don't know...

Chloe: I mean, it's not that I don't like you. I just haven't had a girlfriend for a long time. I hope that doesn't make you mad..?

Beca: Mad? I feel the same way. I suck at relationships.

Chloe: Well... maybe we should go back to just being friends.

Beca: Maybe, yeah.

[Beca sits down on the bed, right next to Chloe. She's smirking now.]

Beca: But uhm, I don't wanna stop having sex.

[Chloe is clearly relieved.]

Chloe: Oh good, me neither.

Beca: Yeah... friends totally isn't gonna work.

Chloe: Noope...

Chloe: Damn, we're not good at being friends, we're not good at being in a relationship; what are we good at?

Beca: I know something we're good at...

Chloe: I don't know if I'm already ready to do it again...

Beca: No!! No, not that. Lying. Think about it, we spent the whole summer lying about being just friends. Why not just keep lying?

[Chloe nods softly and grins at her friend.]

[Aubrey is overly excited to read the next note that says 'Girlfriends'.]

Aubrey: Really??

Beca: Yeah, really. We... sat down, we had the talk. Chloe's my girlfriend now.

Chloe: And Beca's my girlfriend. I know it sounds nuts, but it feels good to say!

[They both grin at each other and giggle a little. This was going to be fun.]

Beca: We're both afraid of commitment but, the fact is, we also can't live without each other.

[Beca then turns around to look at Chloe again as they stand at the door and they both can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, Aubrey is a little right.]

Chloe: And if the alternative is not being together, then it's worth taking this risk. 'Cause... she's awesome.

Beca: And Chloe's awesome. And she looks nice in her pajamas.

[Chloe giggles when Beca plays with the collar of her shirt and pulls her closer.]

Chloe: She looks nice in my robe.

Beca: She's my girlfriend.

Chloe: And she's my girlfriend.

[They lean in to kiss when the door suddenly, finally, opens again and both blush a little when Aubrey embraces them in a tight hug.]

Stacie: Good enough!!!

[There is an awkward talk that both Chloe and Beca wished they'd never have to endure, but they soon come up with an excuse to leave and burst out into laughter as soon as they are out of the door.]

Beca: They bought it!

Chloe: We are good!

Beca: Oh, totally! So, do you wanna get some breakfast?

Chloe: You know, brunch actually does sound kinda good.

Beca: Well, lead the way sweetie pie.

[They both cringe and then grin.]

Chloe: Wow.

Beca: Yeah, that felt wrong.

[Aubrey and Stacie both grin happily as they watch the new couple walk down the street, laughing and talking to each other.]

Stacie: You do realize they were lying, right?

[Aubrey just smiles softly.]

Aubrey: No, Stacie. They don't realize they weren't lying.

356 notes · View notes

yoosungiib · 7 years ago

Note

RFA + Minor Trio with s/o who is super self conscious about her being overweight and hates her body

Always remember guys. Everyone is beautiful in their own way. It isn’t someones size, shape, or physique that makes a person beautiful. It is what is inside their heart, and how they treat other people that makes them beautiful. Always remembers guys to love yourself, because there isn’t a better you, and you truly are beautiful.

RFA + Minor Trio w/ a chubby!MC who is self conscious and hates her body

~~~

★ Yoosung ★

When he saw you for the first time, it was love at first sight. He already knew he was in love with you, but when he just saw how beautiful you were at the door with your red dress and small smile, pink cheeks, he just,

s w o o n e d!

Every curve, every crinkle, every hair, every roll, he’s in love with.

So it breaks his heart when he finds you standing in front of the mirror, poking at yourself while tears slip down your face.

He cups your face in his small hand and wipes your tears. He gives you a tender smile.

“Cutie? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I… I hate how I look. Why can’t I be pretty for you?’

Your words tear him apart.

For a split second, he is speechless, and though he is thinking of numerous things to say about your beauty, he just can’t because he never imagined you feeling like this.

He turns you back towards the mirror and grimaces as you cringe at yourself, but it doesn’t stop him from moving your hair out of your face and wrapping his arms around your torso. Being slightly taller than you, he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Can I tell you about the first time I saw you?” he asks sweetly.

“Um? I guess.”

Yoosung grins, tenderly kissing your neck which causes the both of you to blush. “When I first saw you, I couldn’t believe my eyes at how beautiful you were. Through one eye, you were beautiful, and through two eyes, you were gorgeous.

“I feel as if… I have failed you in some way because you don’t see that you are so beautiful, and you feel the need to criticize yourself. You say that you want to be pretty for me?

“Well, you’re not pretty for me, you are stunning.”

You still cried, but at this point the both of you knew that the tears were now ones of joy and relief.

You will still feel self conscious every now and then, but Yoosung is always there to comfort you and make you feel better.

He makes it a habit to put a new post it note on the mirror every morning before he goes to work complimenting you and telling you just how much he loves you.

♪ Zen ♪

The cruelty of the paparazzi and news outlets did not help your insecurity and your self consciousness.

In fact, if anything, it made you depressed and made you hate yourself even more.

Everyday there was something new; a criticism to your physique, a malicious comment, or a picture being posted of every bad angle possible and you don’t even know how anyone got that picture of you without having been following you.

The worst were the comments left on your social media. They were mean and vicious, and though Zen always publicly told the rude fans off, and made it very clear he would not tolerate their behavior, mean messages were still sent to you.

You found yourself at the park, hiding behind a large tree as your cried, trying to push your body together after a fan of Zen’s spotted you on the sidewalk and started to harass you.

You hated yourself and you hated your body. You wanted to be beautiful for Zen, since he deserved someone beautiful;

But you see, you were beautiful, even though you didn’t see that you were. And when Zen found out just how much you hated yourself and just how much you put yourself down because of your self hate, oh, he was upset.

He found you behind the tree. How he knew you were there? You didn’t know, but you didn’t seem to care either as you melted into his arms.

He didn’t need to ask what was wrong, he had caught you picking at yourself.

So he just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head as he let you sob into his shoulder.

After a few seconds of rubbing your back and letting you cry, he finally spoke, his voice soft and gentle, and soothing to you.

“Jagiya, listen to me. You are so gorgeous. I don’t know what else to tell you other than that. Every… shit thing that was spurt at you is not true, and never will be true. I am in love with you. I am in love with your personality and your body. I love everything about you.

“I… I can’t stop people from being mean. And I’m sorry. But I will always support you, and I will do whatever it takes to get you to see that you are just so, so beautiful.

“I wish you would love yourself more. I wish you didn’t hate your body so much, because this body is my favorite body in the world.”

Zen was right. He couldn’t stop the mean things that were said to you. But everyday he made sure you knew just how much he loved you and your body, and just how much he thought you were beautiful between numerous kisses to numerous part of your body, and many kind and sweet words.

❀ Jaehee ❀

She watched as the light in your eyes started to slowly disappear, and she found herself at a loss of what to do.

Jaehee didn’t know what was making you so sad. She thought you had gotten in an argument with your parents at first, or that you lost something precious, or that she did something wrong.

But then Jaehee found you criticizing yourself in the bathroom, your head down in shame as you continuously taunted yourself.

What struck her the most was when you said stated you hated your body.

She slowly came from behind the corner, startling you as she caught you in the act. You sputtered a few words before breaking down into tears but allowing Jaehee to pull you into her embrace.

She laid kisses against your hair as she rubbed your back.

“MC, why would you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s true!” you cried. “It’s true.”

Jaehee shakes her head, her nose rubbing against your temple. “No, MC, that is far from the truth. There is nothing wrong with your body and shape. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful.

“Please don’t ever stand in front of this mirror again and criticize yourself. Infact…” Jaehee released you and took ahold of the mirror, bringing it outside of the apartment and leaving it by the door. You give her a qussicle look but she just smiles, stroking your cheek with the back of her knuckles. “It seems that mirror does us only harm. So we’ll just get rid of it. We don’t need it anyway when we have each other to tell us how wonderful we look.”

☂ Jumin ☂

Jumin is in love with you. All of you.

And he wants to show you off to the world, however, he can be rather oblivious to the fact that showing yourself off is not something you are keen on doing,

Mainly because you are afraid of the taunts you could get from the rich upper class men and women he is surrounded by. You’re taunts to yourself are enough.

But nevertheless, you agreed to go to a banquet with Jumin, because how could you say no the puppy dog look on his face and his sweet voice and words.

You had smiled and taken the lilac coloured dress from the designer hired for you by Jumin. You looked absolutely stunning in the heritage styled dress, but you couldn’t help but feel the absolute opposite of that when you looked in the mirror.

You turned to your designer and asked her what she thought, and though she complimented you on your poise, grace, and beauty, everything went through one ear and out the other.

The whole ride to the banquet, Jumin could tell you looked incredibly uncomfortable and sad, but when he tried to get you to tell him what was wrong, you just shook your head and said you were fine.

Everything came tumbling out when you arrived at the party.

You were in the main foyer for no more than three minutes when you started to feel that all eyes were on you, and that all eyes were judging you for that matter.

Hot tears were brimming in your eyes, and you pushed past people in a desperate attempt to get to the bathroom just to hide from everyone.

Jumin was quick on his feet and quick on your tail, not letting you lock yourself up in the bathroom. He stopped you outside the door and caged you with his arms. He frowned when he saw a couple tears slide down your face, and he gently moved his hand to wipe them up.

“Darling, will you please tell me what is upsetting you? Do you not like the dress? Do you wish it was a different style or colour?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dress, Jumin, I am what is wrong.”

Jumin was appalled as you began to ramble about everything you hated about your body. You belittled yourself, called yourself ugly, said you weren’t fit to be his wife, and it disturbed him to hear that. Why would you ever say such a thing about yourself?

He stops your rambling by placing his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he gives you a gentle smile and takes a hold of your hand. “I could not bare to hear any more of those lies, my love. To hear you talk so poorly of yourself is devastating. It means I have failed you as your husband if you do not think or see that you are absolutely gorgeous. It is my duty to make you feel loved and wanted and beautiful, and yet here you are telling yourself you are not.”

“Jumin, you’re just saying that-”

“No, I am not. I am telling you that you are gorgeous because it’s the truth. It doesn’t matter what size you are, that isn’t what makes you beautiful. And even so, your size, shape, everything is stunning. I’m in love with you. All of you.”

Jumin’s words definitely struck a chord in you. Though you were still a little self conscious, you felt better going back out for the banquet, and other parties, now that Jumin was making sure every day you realized how beautiful you were.

Some days, you would still find yourself in the mirror, criticizing yourself, but Jumin always came to stop you.

☺ Seven/Saeyoung ☺

Cuddling is one of yours and Seven’s favorite things to do. It’s a way for you guys to be close to each other, to enjoy each others body warmth, to have each others company.

But one thing you always noticed was how Seven never held you when you guys cuddled.

He never held you when you guys slept.

It was always him who used you as a pillow. He’d rest his head either on your stomach or lap, and wrap his arms around your legs.

At first, it hadn’t bothered you, until you realized that you actually craved to be held by him. You wanted to know what it felt like to rest against his chest and to have your head tucked under his chin. But whenever you guys went to cuddle, he just got straight on top of you, and cuddled into your chest.

You looked in the mirror one day and started to poke at yourself, and that was how the hate of your body began.

You began to think that maybe Seven wouldn’t hold you because you were too big, and he thought you would crush him or something.

Distraught is an understatement.

You began to bawl in front of the mirror as you couldn’t get the idea out of your head.

You had always felt a little self conscious. You had seen girls who were able to strut their bodies with confidence, and you yearned for that. Not only that, you yearned for their bodies. But you had never hated your body as much as you did now, standing in front of the mirror with everything on display.

Seven heard your anguished cries and was pouncing out of his chair and away from work, rushing to find you. He found you in front of the mirror, your face buried within your hands and your whole body rocking with sobs.

He rushed to your side, pulling you away from the mirror and holding you to him. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair, and hey, he rested his chin on your head since he was taller than you. But again, you guys were standing, and you started to cry even more as you disparaged yourself in your head.

“Baby? Baby, whats wrong? Shh, don’t cry. Don’t cry,” Seven soothed. “Defender of Justice is here to help and here to make you smile.” You chuckled at that, even with your sobbing.

Seven pulled back so he could cup your cheeks and give you a gentle smile. He rubbed his thumb against the tear streaks on your face and he frowned.

“Aww, honey. What made you cry so hard? Tell me so I can destroy it with my super strength and godly powers.”

You sniffle, rubbing your face against the felt of his jacket. The smell of honey buddha chips on his coat was comforting, and it gave you something along the lines of courage to tell him your concerns and how you were feeling.

But it was still hard for you.

“When we cuddle… do you never hold me because I’m too big?”

Seven pulled back from you quickly, his hands gripping your shoulders and an appalled look on his face. “What? Why would you even say that?”

“It’s just that you never hold me. And I want you too… But I understand why because look at me,” you say sadly as you look down. You point at yourself but jolt your head up in shock when you hear Seven snort and laugh. You’re pretty hurt, but then he takes a gentle hold of your cheek.

“You’re joking, right? This is a pretty shit joke. Because you are absolutely stunning, and why you would think your body isn’t is just ridiculous. Everything about you is perfect. And if you wanted me to hold you, then baby,” Seven suddenly swoops you up, causing you to squeal as he plops down on the bed with you on top of him. He sets you between his legs and pulls you to his chest. He rests your head just where his heart is so you can hear its steady beating. One arm wraps around your shoulders and the other slings around your waist, and he squeezes tightly. He rests his cheek on the top of your head, and nestles it a couple times, “you should have just asked. I’ll always hold you. I love to hold you. I love you.”

❆ V ❆

You didn’t feel worthy to be his model.

With that small smile of his and gentle voice, your husband asked you to wear a white nightgown and pose for him in his studio. You were his muse, the most beautiful muse, and if you were comfortable with it, he wanted to capture his muse in the most beautiful of photographs.

You weren’t comfortable because you hated your body, and you were incredibly self conscious, but you didn’t want to say no to him. You could see the adoration in his eyes as he looked at you.

V was the only one who could make you feel beautiful. But even so, you will still look at yourself with disdain and cringe as you hate what you see.

You laid down on bed that had been set up in the studio in front of a pink backdrop.

Everything was fine at first. He was making jokes with you, complimenting you, between shots coming over to kiss you.

But then he made a comment about sharing the photos with the world, saying how the whole world deserved to see your beauty, and you burst into tears, curling into a ball and hiding your face. He immediately put the camera down and rushed to your side, kneeling before you and wrapping his arm around you.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you in any pain? Please, sweetheart, what’s the matter.”

You sniffle, wiping at your tears and turning to face him pitifully. “You can’t share those with anyone. I don’t want anyone to see how big I am.”

V is taken aback, his stroking to your hair stopping as he looks down at you surprised.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d never share these photos without your permission, but what do you mean by that? Don’t you think people should see how beautiful you are?”

You shake your head, pushing his hand off of you. “No, V, I don’t. I’m not beautiful, and you know that. You are only saying that because you are married to me and you are obligated to say it. But you know that I am not.”

V’s jaw drops as he reaches for you once again. He cannot and will not let you think this about yourself, but he has to go at this carefully. He can see just how upset and hurt you are. He could go on for hours about how beautiful he thinks you are, and just how much he loves you and your body, but it is clear to him that is not what you want to hear.

For awhile, he justs holds you as you cry, waiting for the right moment to speak. When he thinks it is, he pulls back and cups your face, pulling you towards him for a quick kiss.

“I am not obligated to tell you that you are beautiful. I could just not say anything. But why would I do then when what I say is the truth? You are beautiful. And if you think that whether you are a size 4 is what makes you beautiful, you are wrong.

“There is so much that makes you beautiful between your sparkling eyes, the dimples that appear on your face when you smile, your kind heart, your compassion, your willingness to help anyone in need. And I could go on for ages.

“When I look at you, I am breathtaken. After everything that has happened… I cannot believe how lucky I am to have gotten such a beautiful wife. Every night when I hold you, I make a promise to always protect you and to always make you happy. You deserve the world and more. You are my shooting star. You appeared out of nowhere in the midst of darkness and made all my dreams come true. And I will work to make your dreams come true.

“I cannot control how you feel. But I will continue to remind you just how beautiful I think you are. Because whether you want to believe it or not, you are beautiful. No matter what size you are, you are gorgeous, and always will be.”

He concludes his speech with a loving kiss, his hands delved in your hair as he holds you to him. For the rest of the night, you guys cuddle on the couch watching movies and holding onto each other.

For the photos he took, he keeps them. He never did plan to show them to anyone. He didn’t want anyone to think about stealing you from him first off. Only he can have such beautiful photos.

☻ Saeran/Unknown ☻

Saeran had no idea that you felt self conscious or that you hated your body.

The thought never crossed his mind,

Because he thought you were beautiful, so he presumed you thought you were beautiful.

So he was a little shocked that you approached him one day in tears as you were unable to fit into a pair of pants, and you were bawling about how much you hated yourself.

He was really s h o o k.

For one, he had never seen you like this before. So distraught and broken. You were always comforting him and always seemed strong and unfaltered. He was very mean to you at first, and you took everything he ever said to you with a smile, and you never shed a tear. And now, here you were in front of him in tears.

Second, why were you screaming that you hated your body? Especially over a pair of lousy pants that didn’t even look nice anyways. He’d get you better pants that fitted you better and were much more fashionable.

He really did not know what to do at first. He knew he needed to help you obviously, but he was really confused and caught off guard, so it took him a few moments to figure out what to do.

When your tearful shouting turned to just small whimpers, he calmly rose from the couch and sat you down.

He knelt down before you, and first, pulled your pants off.

He looked at the flimsy jeans and scoffed, resting his hand on your thigh.

“MC, these jeans are shit anyways, so don’t waste your tears over them.” He then proceeded to tear them up.

Next, he took your hands in his, rubbing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Have you calmed down now? Can you tell me what the fuck is going on without crying?”

You do as he asks, and tell him all of your insecurities, everything you hate about yourself and your body, and everything you wish you were.

The whole time, Saeran sits before you looking up at you with an almost emotionless look, but on the inside he is really upset. He doesn’t like to hear, “I hate how I can’t be pretty for you because of my body,” leave your lips.

It tears him apart to know you think so negatively about yourself. And it also hurts him to know that you think he would really care if you were on the chubbier side or not.

He has always thought you to be beautiful, and has always loved your body.

Saeran thinks to himself, pondering on how he doesn’t tell you very much that he thinks your beautiful. Your relationship consists of a bunch of cuddling, ice cream, his panic attacks with your consoling and sympathy, and little kisses. He realizes that compliments are hardly shared between the two of you.

Well, you always find things to compliment him on, like how he’s so strong, how he’s capable, and how brave you think he is. Even that he’s handsome he is sexy. And yet, he thinks he has only called you beautiful maybe once or twice.

He really blames himself for this, but if there is one thing he has learnt through being in a relationship with you and having escaped from Mint Eyes clutches is that there is no point dwelling.

He isn’t the best with words, but he tries, and he’s determined to get you to see that he thinks you are beautiful.

“Don’t you know that you are way out of my league? You could probably get anyone you wanted and yet you choose me, a criminal, a cheat, a liar, a murderer. And you’re saying you have to be pretty for me? When you are already… ravishing!”

You sniffled a little bit, whipping at your wet cheeks.

“You… you really think I’m pretty?”

“You’re more than pretty, MC, you’re gorgeous. This body is gorgeous.

“I don’t care what size you are, because I’m in love with you, ok? I’d be in love with you if you were as small as an ant or as big as an elephant. Either way, you’d be beautiful. And you shouldn’t be thinking about changing yourself for anyone, certainly not me. If anyone should be changing, it’s me, ok? Not you.”

You let out a breathy laugh as you moved yourself off the couch and down on the floor with him. You rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, relishing in his body warmth and relishing in how he kisses the top of your head and holds onto you. “I don’t want you to change,” you say softly.

Saeran lets out a small chuckle, tightening his arms around you. “Well, then I won’t change. Neither of us will.”

✌ Vanderwood ✌

Oh no. He takes none of this.

You never like to show your tears in front of him, so you normally bottle up your feelings and just try to hide it from him.

You’ll only ever share your feelings if you think it is truly necessary, but you never seem to.

But of course, everyone has their breaking points, and one day during dinner as he puts out a huge meal for you, and you just look down at yourself, you burst into tears, confusing the hell out of your boyfriend.

“I-I’m so sorry, Vandy, you worked so hard on this dinner, but I can’t eat it. It’s too much and I’m trying to lose weight so I can look better for you. I just… I hate my body. I hate it. I’m so sorry.”

He was really shocked.

You were trying to lose weight for him?… not even for yourself?

And you hate your body? How could you say such a thing? He loves your body!

Though he doesn’t say it verbally, he cannot just stand and let you think so negatively of yourself, especially when he thinks that you are absolutely gorgeous and that there wasn’t a more beautiful being to ever grace the planet.

Comfort is not his strong suit. The mere most he can give is a few soft words,

So he shows you just how beautiful he thinks you are with every roll, curve, or lump.

He carries you to the bed and lays you down, and before you can ask him what he is doing, he is already taking your clothes off and leaving trails of kisses to every visible part of skin.

His hands caress your sides, stroking gently, and touching everything. He literally kisses every part of your body.

You guys made love.

And when it was all over, he pulled you to his chest and kept his arms wrapped around you. You looked up at him confused, but he rested his hand on your cheek, and gentle gesture he rarely ever does.

Though not the best with words, he seemed to know exactly what to say:

“If you want to lose weight, I will help you. But you have to do this because you want to, and you want to do this for yourself. Not because you think that you being thinner is what I want. Because I’m telling you now, I love you how you are. I think you are beautiful now. So if you want to lose weight, then I’ll be your biggest supporter. But only if you are doing this for yourself. Alright?”

~~~

Requests are closed right now, but to find rules of requests you can check out my masterlist page!

#Yoosung Kim #Zen #Hyun Ryu #Jaehee Kang #Jumin Han #Seven #Luciel Choi #Saeyoung Choi #Ray Choi #Saeran Choi #V #Jihyun Kim #Vanderwood #Mary Vanderwood 3rd #Mystic Messenger #Mystic Messenger Headcanon #Mysme #Mysme Headcanon

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puchittothelimit · 7 years ago

Text

Sorrow At Sunrise - Ah Puch x Hades

Author’s Notes

Fandom: SMITE

Fan-fiction: Sorrow At Sunrise

Summary: Ah Puch had not expected to ever see Hades again after their previous encounter, but Hades had every intention of seeing him again. Hopefully, if they can make peace, they’ll have many more encounters.

Characters: Ah Puch, Hades

Pairings: Ah Puch & Hades

Warnings: Angst and Fluff (if that even counts)

Please read 1.) Wakey-Wakey, Hangovers and Bakey and 2.) this little snippet of info before reading this fan-fiction for context.

I did take a break from requests to write something I’ve wanted to finish for so long now. Not NSFW like I intended, but I think it’s better this way… Hope y’all like it.

He heard the door click. There was a deep satisfaction to be had in retiring for the day. Though Ah Puch was as sociable as they come, he was still very content in his own company, even more so tucked in bed, cosy and in complete comfort. Easily pleased, some might say.

He sat himself down at his vanity table and began to dispense with all of his charms and his armour. Though these charms and the mask were required to keep him sane, he couldn’t very well sleep in them (the mask especially). He had a more powerful charm that he wore whilst sleeping. When everything else was off, apart from the mask (so he could still see what he was doing), he picked up the stronger charm and began fiddling with the clasp. Damn these claws, Ah Puch snarled as he struggled with the relatively simple task, unable to catch anything with his long nails. He dreaded to think how he would get it fastened again at the back of his neck, when he couldn’t see what he was doing. When he finally got the clasp undone, he tilted his head forward, making sure the appendage at the back of his mask was out of the way, then brought the two halves either side of his neck.

He felt an unusual chill, something that would rarely happen in an environment like this, especially with the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. Cold engulfed his hands but he did not flinch. It was a familiar feeling, comforting. He already knew who it was, before he even heard the voice.

“Please, allow me,” Hades’ sombre tones echoed in his ears, and suddenly all of his senses became heightened. He took a deep breath to dispel some of energy as Hades took the clasps from his hands and fastened the charm around his neck. He pulled away, then slipped his hands over Ah Puch’s shoulders, causing him to hiss and arch his neck. Hades stood firm, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

It was times like this that Ah Puch was truly grateful for his mask. His touch and his voice was too much for him and though the mask couldn’t conceal the goosebumps on his skin or the clenching of his fists, it could still hide the anguish on his face.

“You say that,” He began, swallowing his nerves before continuing, “And yet, you come into my room, unannounced and uninvited.”

“Well, I didn’t think for one moment that your Pantheon would let me anywhere near you,” Hades replied plainly. Now that he was finally back here, he didn’t ever want to take his hands off Ah Puch again.

Neither did Ah Puch in truth, even though he knew he shouldn’t get used the sensation. “There’s a reason for that,” Ah Puch said, coldly.

Hades pulled his hands away from Ah Puch’s shoulders, now feeling that he was perhaps not welcome here. But, he was not prepared to leave this time without the situation resolved and his intentions being understood. “Ah Puch, look at me,” He gave him time, but he remained stagnant, his only movements when his shoulders rose and fell as he sighed, “ Look at me, please.”

“I can’t,” He wheezed. Ah Puch bowed his head, unable to stop his body from shaking. This was what he was afraid of; he’d had another taste of affection and could feel himself crumbling without it. One look and he’d never be able to give it up, and he was not about to sacrifice his principals, no matter how desperate he was.

Hades felt an urge to be close to him, somehow thinking that it would comfort him, and satisfy something deep within himself also. He was encouraged that the longing felt strangely familiar. It proved to him that perhaps not all aspects of their previous encounter together had been lost when the Cupid arrow had done its damage. Alas, he could not touch him. He still entirely convinced that was not what Ah Puch would want. He instead slowly sifted over to his side as not to startle him, and descended to his knees, looking up at Ah Puch’s face, somehow more expressionless than usual, his sockets completely blank.

He’d closed his eyes after noticing Hades move. His face contorted into something quite painful as he struggled to keep his eyes shut and his mouth closed, to keep his tears at bay and to stop him from crying out.

“Do you hate me for what happened?” Hades asked softly.

“No,” Ah Puch’s voice quivered, disgusted with himself that he’d given Hades that impression. It was so far from the truth, “I don’t hate you,” He went to reach out and take his hand but there was still that little bit of self-control left. His hand remained poised, hovering above his thigh. Hades could see it shaking, and quickly slipped his own hand underneath it, allowing Ah Puch to clasp it tightly before wrapping his own fingers around his hand. It immediately soothed Ah Puch’s body. He had but a moment to relax before his mind perked up again, reminding him of why he shouldn’t get used to this. “But, you have to understand, it hurts me every time see you.”

“Why?” Hades would never do anything to make Ah Puch hurt but he continued to be baffled as to why his presence was supposedly so detested, especially when Ah Puch continued to display affection towards him. He was grateful that he was still allowed to hold Ah Puch’s hand, stroking his knuckle with his thumb.

“You know why,” Ah Puch continued to shake. He didn’t want to have to explain himself. The mere thought of the situation made him emotional, and he was already in a state.

Hades shook his head, “Ah Puch, trust me, I don’t.”

“Because,” He cried out. He paused to try and calm himself down. He took a deep breath in, “We had an amazing night… and you don’t remember any of it,” He whimpered softly. Hades bowed his head, somewhat guilty (though he couldn’t help that he couldn’t recall their encounter, it being a side effect of the Cupid’s arrow that had hit him). “And I know that we can never have that again,” Ah Puch tearfully concluded, gently prying his hand away from Hades’.

Hades quickly looked up, “Why not?” He pleaded.

“Because you don’t love me,” Ah Puch’s tone was somewhat final. He was finished explaining himself. He’d had enough of the entirety of this situation.

But Hades was insistent that he would not be misunderstood, “Ah Puch, I do love you. Why do you think I had to come back? We loved each other. Why shouldn’t we act on that? I know I don’t remember anything about what happened that night but that night wasn’t when I realised I loved you. I-. ”

“No. No. Don’t lie to me!” Finally, he looked Hades in the eye so he could see his anger. He was seething at what he deemed to be lies, though deep down he wanted them not to be (and they weren’t).

Hades’ own green eyes flared from the shock of his outburst but they soon narrowed, and he appeared as stern but compassionate as ever. “I’m not lying,” His tone was far more calmer than Ah Puch’s.

He knew what his limits where. He’d been at breaking point before. He needed this encounter to be over and to be left alone. Ah Puch finally dragged his gaze away from Hades, a motion that felt like he’d severed something. He stood from his chair and walked away from Hades with his arms wrapped around himself, his hands gripping his sides, tucking himself away. “You are,” His voice was sharp and breathy, “You have a wife Hades, shouldn’t you be with her?” Hades sighed through gritted teeth. That was a situation he didn’t want to discuss right now. “Get out. I don’t need you, and I especially don’t need your pity.”

Hades was not offended, though he ought to have been. He could see why Ah Puch would think that; sure, his appearance was certainly abnormal but he was certainly not unattractive. Hades would make sure Ah Puch was reassured that his feelings were genuine, and of the romantic sort, but he had no plans to bring up Ah Puch’s appearance, afraid that he would turn around and say that he’d proved his point, when it was Hades that had a point to prove.

In the silence that followed, Ah Puch could hear himself whimpering, and it made him cringe. The fact that he couldn’t control himself anymore aggravated him, making him more unsettled. He needed to vent. He could only bottle things up for so long.

As if he hadn’t heard Ah Puch telling him to leave, Hades straightened himself and began to close the gap between them. He was still so compelled to just throw his arms around him and embrace him for as long as he needed to. But not in this cold, intimidating form. He took the top of his hood in his hand and pulled. As he continued to move closer to Ah Puch, he almost stepped out of his cloak. Letting go of the hood, the garments frayed into a smoke that quickly dispersed.

Ah Puch suddenly heard the pat of footsteps, getting louder. Even without that, he could already sense something approaching behind him. Just as Hades got that little too close, Ah Puch ducked away. Clenching his fists, he tried to stop himself from shaking, “Don’t…touch me.”

Hades would’ve never thought to ignore a plea like that, but he knew that Ah Puch was merely issuing empty threats; He wanted him gone but Hades would not relent. They could have everything he wanted, that they both wanted. Hades needed to prove that everything he preached was no word of a lie.

He approached carefully, coming as close as he could without yet touching Ah Puch, who didn’t flinch, as he had expected. He peered over Ah Puch’s shoulders, watching his hands before reaching around his waist slowly. He took both of them this time, their fingers intertwining. There was still no resistance. Hades bent Ah Puch’s arms, pulling their hands up his face, and pulled their bodies closer. There was no force, so Ah Puch could slip away if he really wanted to, Hades wasn’t holding him to ransom. There was no more shaking.

“Hades, I can’t…” Ah Puch said absentmindedly, infatuated with comfort. ‘I can’t get used to this’, he meant to say, but Hades knew that.

“You can,” He brought his head over Ah Puch’s shoulder (as best he could with the mask in the way), “Ah Puch, I love you. I need you to believe that because it’s true. I know you have doubts, rightly so, but me and Persephone,” He heard Ah Puch sigh at the name and quickly continued, needing to explain himself fully before he jumped to conclusions, “I love her very much but not the same way I love you. We were very good friends. We married out of convenience. It’s a story for another time. And the arrow? I was already looking at you when it hit. I suppose it gave me the push I needed to…” Hades paused, a little embarrassed at the fact that they’d been at such a point relatively early in their ‘relationship��, “I understand it went a little further than expected, but I think that can be put down to the alcohol,” He felt Ah Puch jump and heard him snicker a little, “But my feelings are as true now as they were then. You are wonderfully charming. You are sociable, and surprisingly tolerable when it comes to more interesting Gods. Funny, and very dry. The way you present yourself… You’re incredibly endearing, and I hope you find me so. I want to make this work, if you do.”

Hades didn’t dare breathe. There was complete silence and also stillness, until Hades felt Ah Puch’s nails dig into his palm as he tightened his grip.

“Of course I want that,” Ah Puch whispered softly.

Hades lightly sighed, a small smile of relief curling onto his face. Burying his face into his back, he began to rock them both slightly.

Now, Ah Puch felt indebted to reassure Hades, “Who wouldn’t want to be with you?” Hades snickered, embarrassed, “You’re so kind and compassionate, even when you’re drunk. I don’t… No one is worthy of your love, not even me.”

“No,” He said firmly, now applying force in an attempt to stop Ah Puch from quivering again, “No, none of that.”

Ah Puch was moved to tears once again with his understanding, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m so sorry I ever said you were pitying me.”

“No, you had every right to feel that way.”

Ah Puch went to speak again, but Hades shushed him, not harshly, it was as soft as his touch. He waited, “Please stay.”

Hades perked up, rather glad he’d popped that question, “Only if you want me to.”

“No, please.”

“Certainly,” Hades popped a kiss onto Ah Puch’s bare shoulder before pulling away.

They finally faced each other, and Ah Puch finally laid eyes upon Hades and didn’t cry. He cupped his hand around his cheek and stroked it with his thumb, while Hades leaned his head into the touch.

“Ugh, I forgot,” Ah Puch groaned.

“What?” Hades placed his palm atop the hand that was stroking his cheek, concerned.

Ah Puch’s mouth hovered open for a few seconds, “You’ll be seeing my face again for the first time.” Hades furrowed his brow, now confused, “What? You didn’t think I slept in it, did you?”

“No, I-. I’m just not quite sure why it’s an issue.”

“You’ll see.” Ah Puch fumbled around the back of his head. Then, all of a sudden, the feathers and horns adorning the mask disappearing, leaving only the wooden face left. He gripped the chin of the mask, hesitated for a moment, then pulled it over his head.

He kept his eyes shut. He didn’t want to see Hades’ disgust. That’s what people usually bore when they first look upon his true face and he grew tired of it.

There was no such feeling and no hesitation as Hades placed both of his hands on Ah Puch’s cheeks, as if he needed proof that was he was seeing was real.

The craters on his skin worried Hades the most, him thinking they were scars. He ran his thumb over one, grimacing at the groove. His heart sank a little when he saw his mouth, with no lips to kiss. The many, many long teeth did intimidate him slightly. When he opened his eyes, Hades couldn’t stop himself from frowning. Even his eyes were damaged, each part still defined but with white tones glazing the surface.

Ah Puch, even with his eyes open, couldn’t see Hades’ expression and he wasn’t saying anything, which just made him anxious, “Hades, say something.”

“Who hurt you?”

That was different to what was he was used to hearing. Ah Puch was somewhat thankful for the concern (especially since drunk Hades didn’t say two words about his face), “No one. It’s…a long story.”

“I’d like to hear it, if you’ll tell it.”

There was no pressure in Hades’ voice but Ah Puch was still hesitant, “As long as you promise me that you won’t drive yourself insane trying to fix it, because you can’t. Trust me, we’ve tried. Promise me?” He would have never wanted Hades to bear that burden, no matter how much he wanted to.

“I promise.”

Despite his duties playing on his mind and not being accustomed to sleeping during the day, Hades slept rather soundly. Being cosied up to Ah Puch probably had a lot to do with it. It made opening his eyes so much harder and they stung as he finally became conscious. He didn’t dare look at the time. Whenever it may be, he knew he would have to return to his own realm sooner rather than later.

But how could he leave this?

They hadn’t let go of each other the whole time. They both slept facing the same way (with Ah Puch facing away from Hades so he didn’t prick him with his teeth). Hades had his arms still around him, and their hands were still intertwined. It was prime position for Hades to kiss Ah Puch on the back of the head or by his ear, and he took full advantage of that throughout their rest, and now.

He kissed him just behind his ear, seeing if he would stir, “Ah Puch,” He barely whispered. Ah Puch groggily reached behind him and rubbed the back of Hades’ neck, acknowledging him. “Listen, I have to go.”

“Why?” Ah Puch whined, a little more alert.

“I left Thana’ on his own, and we’ve both got Underworld’s to run,” He squeezed him tightly in their embrace, before relenting and leaving the warmth of the bed they’d shared.

Ah Puch rolled over and solemnly watched Hades’ blurry figure put his robes back on. He noticed he’d stopped moving and the figure became hard to see, “Hades,” He called, just to make sure he was still there.

“Yes?” He answered eagerly.

Ah Puch stretched out his arms, wanting one last embrace before he left, to which Hades happily obliged. He took his hand and pulled him up into a sitting position before wrapping his arms around him once more. Ah Puch was careful not to catch Hades with his teeth as he buried his forehead into his shoulder. “Come back soon, don’t leave it so long this time. I missed you,” He got a little tearful as he finished speaking.

“I missed you.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you,” Hades placed a long kiss on his neck before letting go.

Author’s Notes

I tried so fucking hard to make the title and the summary not cringey and I still hate them but it’s late and I just want to queue this shit. I hope you like it.

Please give this story a like and reblog if you enjoyed it! It really helps me out! Thanks for reading!

#puch it fics #smite #smite fanfic #smite fanfiction #smite hades #ah puch #fanfic #fanfiction #Ah PuchxHades #ah puch x hades #apxhades #ah puch and hades #hades

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creativewritingsoul · 7 years ago

Text

Elements of Change, Monster High Fanfiction

Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction. There's no resemblance to actual persons, places and / or events. If so, it is utterly not intended. I do not claim to own Monster High or anything to do with it at all. Character exposure in this story is completely non-profit and just for fun. I own nothing but my own plot-bunnies. Thank you.

Summary: After a visit to the doctor's office, Heath gets some news that strangely makes sense, yet he refuses to believe it's true. If he's not careful, it could cost him his existence. Meanwhile, Abbey has a surprise for her boyfriend (it's a surprise to her too) but she can hardly wait to tell him and go through all the motions side-by-side. Rated T, enjoy! : )

Genre(s): Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Pairing(s): Heath B. x Abbey B.

Rating: T

Elements of Change Chapter One: The Element of Surprise

If there was one thing he hated in the entire world, it had to be a visit to the doctor's office. It wasn't that he disliked being healthy or anything; he just wasn't fond of the process. Also, he was a rather private guy, having another guy ask him questions about his health, even the more intimate aspects of his life – it truly didn't sit well with him. He supposed it was better than having a female health care professional but either way he still felt awkward around them. "Heath Burns? The doctor will see you now."

He lazily shifted his gaze towards the nurse, dressed in dark blue scrubs with a signature pair of white sneakers. He swore he felt a chill run down his spine, not in the good way either. Before she could call his name again, he stood suddenly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here, relax a bit will you?"

She narrowed her eyes towards him, still holding the door open. "He'll be with you shortly. First door on the right please."

Heath strolled down the hall in his usual nonchalant manner. He stopped at someone's desk. There were papers strewn about here and there, what he noticed was a professionally taken photograph of his doctor and his family. He stood proud in the photo, his wife looking at him with adoration in her eyes and their two children with big smiles upon their faces. They looked as though much love held them together.

It brought a smile to Heath's own face. "Heath?" He jumped slightly, feeling startled.

"Yes, sir?" He answered quickly, realizing that it was his doctor right next to him.

"This room, please?"

Heath remembered that he was instructed to go into that same room just moments ago. "Right, no prob." He maneuvered inside and hopped up on the seat. "So, if we make this quick, we'll both be happier. Then we can both have good days elsewhere."

The middle-aged man shook his head at Heath, "Not so fast young man, I want to speak to you about your blood work results."

Heath became visibly queasy, almost green in the face. "Let's not."

"My apologies, I forgot mentioning it makes you squeamish." He tried his best to hide the half-smirk he was sporting.

He narrowed his eyes towards the medical professional. 'Jerk, you did that on purpose.' Heath thought to himself.

"I'm going to ask you something. Being the fire elemental that you are Mr. Burns, have you been around any cool temperatures for prolonged periods of time?" He questioned, raising a brow as he watched Heath shrug it off. Just as he thought the teenager would.

"Not really, but I don't see what that has to do with anything to begin with. Especially cool temperatures and my blood."

He cleared his throat, grasping Heath's attention. "On the contrary, it has everything to do with it. You are supposed to be around general room temperatures, on the warmer side preferably, or generate the heat yourself, as your being does whenever your internal body temperature gets too low. Or, cold – we'll say." He lowered the glasses upon his nose, looking right at the young man in front of him.

Thinking back to his schedule, the only thing Heath could think of that may have a role to play in this 'observation' of his doctor's, was being around Abbey. It hadn't just started yesterday; they'd been dating just shy of two years. He was always around her. But, this couldn't be taking a toll on his health, could it? "So what, I'm a fire elemental. I can just turn up the heat if I feel a little chilly. Great. Are we done here?"

"No. Sit." The older instructed sternly. "Heath, everytime you cross over from neutral temperatures to shocking cold ones, you use up more energy and heat than you normally would. I'm positive it's at least causing you fatigue if nothing else."

'No, no. . . being with Abbey, is damaging my health? That's surreal. . . I won't believe it. Screw this. Screw him. Nothing is gonna stop me from being with my ghoulfriend.' He thought triumphantly. Now if only he could get out of here somehow? "Maybe a little here and there but really, it's nothing."

The doctor shook his head, "Maybe it's not a big deal now Heath, but it will be soon. Be careful, because what you're doing to yourself is highly dangerous. Do you need help to curb this destructive behavior?" He pushed his glasses back upon his nose, only for them to fall again in a few moments. "I have the perfect connections for you to receive professional help for the behavior you're showing. Heath, your self-harm isn't just hurting you, your parents must-"

This was the last straw, it was. "No. I don't need any help that you or anyone else can offer!" He raised his voice momentarily, but hushed it back. Taking a quick breath, he continued. "Look, if I do – and that's a huge if - then I'll come find you. Peace, until then." He got up and walked out of the office, despite the doctor himself and the nurse calling his name, he kept walking. He just had to get out of here and fast before he did anything he'd regret.

: : ~ * ~ : :

Abbey had been in a very good mood already that morning and she hadn't even lingered around the school for ten minutes yet. Though she was hoping Heath would get there soon, she had a Student Council meeting in about twenty minutes or so and she truly wanted to see her boyfriend before she became too preoccupied.

Good morning, text your ghoulfriend. She's impatient. :)

She thought maybe a text would make Heath arrive early so she could see him. It may have been a selfish thought, though Abbey just felt like seeing him would brighten up her whole day.

Sorry babes! I'm on my way, can't wait to see you this morning. :)

She smiled and tossed her multi-colored hair over her shoulder. She thought back to a couple years ago, when they officially began dating. She had no idea how far they would come along and today she had a big surprise for him. Not being a hundred percent sure he would like it made her nervous, but she still had to try. A small sliver of her being wouldn't be upset if he did refuse. She sort of wanted to do the same thing but her parents insisted and when they sent out an invite, you didn't refuse. If you knew what was good for you of course. "Oh Heath, where are you?" She asked softly, pulling her iCoffin out and glancing at the time.

"Hey my favorite ghoul!" Heath hurried towards her, slightly out of breath.

She smiled widely, looking up from her cellular phone. "Good morning Heath, was afraid I would miss you. Have student council this morning and they are fond of talking. Too much for Abbey's liking."

He smiled at her, "Oh Abbey, you make my day brighter. And my nights wild but I don't need to remind you about that, or do I?" She blushed heavily and poked his nose, pulling him in close to a loving embrace as she captured his lips with her own.

Even accompanied by this lovely distraction, he couldn't ignore the fact that his head began to throb directly in the temples, or so it felt like.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

'The doc can't be right about those bogus lines he shot me . . . he can't be.' Heath cringed slightly as he reached up ever so slightly to kiss her cheek and inch away, just a bit. He hoped it would relieve the pounding. "Anyways, uh – what's up ghoul?"

She frowned a bit; it was unlike Heath to pull away from her kiss. She supposed there was a possibility that he might be feeling under the weather. Her frown grew along with her concern, hopefully whatever it was bothering him would cease to do so. "Well, I have a request. It might have something to do with getting out of school if you have interest."

Heath thought about it briefly, very briefly. "Ooh, well if it involves ditching school – I'd be more than happy to be involved."

She smirked, "Silly boy you are, Heath. The invitation is from my parents, to visit . . . back home. Just for a while, not long. Long enough for them to see my, my heart."

Heath couldn't resist the smile that spread across his face instantaneously. "I'm your heart, Abbey? Really?" His eyes searched hers for a moment, but he gave a nod. What did he have to lose? "Sure, I'll go back home with you." He winked as Abbey rolled her eyes. He laughed softly, "On a serious note though, no problem Abbey, I'll just let my folks know what's up. I can't wait."

She smiled just as widely and nodded, leaning in to kiss him. "You indeed are my forever flame."

He ran a hand through her hair, caressing her cheek afterwards. "You don't have any idea how much you mean to me. You're my world, favorite ghoul."

Abbey adored it when he said such nice things to her. At one point she used to think he wasted his breath a lot... until she began to understand the meaning of his spoken words. Then she opened her mind just a bit more and listened harder, his tender words have been newly found gems ever since.

Glancing down at her iCoffin yet again, she realized that she now had two minutes to get to the classroom in which the Student Council meeting was taking place. Time always escaped her when she was with him, her 'favorite' guy. "I must sadly go, will see you later?"

"Of course you will, go get 'em tigress." It wasn't until Abbey left his side that his sudden headache legitimately ceased. "Damn it, damn bastard is right." He took a deep breath and sat on the bench just outside the school, taking a moment to calm down. Convincing himself that this was a strange coincidence and nothing more.

: : ~ * ~ : :

Heath managed to get out of the period before lunch early, which he had every intention on doing. He had to find someone specific and he knew that she had Bite-ology just before then. "C'mon ghoul, be one of the first to get out of here so we can get this little chat over with. It's gotta be secretive. I want it to be a surprise. . ." he mumbled, leaning up against the wall as he waited for the dismissal bell. Although it wasn't the first time he wished for class to hurry up and end. Soon he was granted his wish and the bell rang through the halls of Monster High as it filled with many, many students. Heath had to look hard but he finally found the person he was looking for. He reached out to tap her shoulder. "Hey! Hi Twyla!" He greeted a big smile on his face.

"Oh, hey Heath. How are you?" She asked him, hugging her books close to her chest.

"I'm alright, could be better… actually, and I could be different – in all honesty." He sighed, "I – uh, I hate to be one of those friends that only come around when I 'need' something, but Twyla, I 'need' a huge favor and if you don't want to do it for me – I understand."

Twyla gave a nod and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sometimes monsters need a helping hand, I get that. Tell me what's up and I'll see what I can do for ya."

They walked slowly down the hall together as it cleared up a bit. "Abbey and I have been together for just shy of two years now. Earlier this morning she invited me to go back home with her." He watched as she raised an eyebrow, with a sly smile at first.

"Ooh, Heath! You bad boy! How was your evening?" She smirked, hugging her books even closer, if that were possible. If he was asking for a sand to enhance his chamber-prowess, she did not have sand for that.

He chuckled and shook his head, "Twyla, I'm not talking about that, geez. I mean, she invited me back home, to her homeland, to visit with her parents. Which is shocking, but I feel like it's a huge step for us."

She gave an eager nod. "I would consider that as a big step for sure. So, what could I possibly do to help? Did you want me to pick out anything? Maybe winter theme would be too cliché for Abbey, I think she would love-"

"I-would-honestly-appreciate-it-if-you-changed-me." He blurted out all at once. "I'm sorry Twyla; I shouldn't have just blurted that out. I'm nervous."

Her eyes widened, not for one moment did she expect someone who displayed such confidence as Heath Burns, would be asking her for her changing sand. "Nervousness is a good indication that you might not be prepared for such a step. Heath, I – I don't think this is a good idea for you."

They stopped in mid-walk and Heath gazed right into Twyla's eyes, pleading her through them alone. He almost didn't have to say a word. "Twyla. . . I need this. I really want to become one with Abbey's kind. If I were like her, it wouldn't be so awkward or possibly upsetting for her parents. Man, what if their furniture is made of ice and, this 'hot ass' – literally – melts it all?"

Twyla giggled, but stopped very shortly after. "My apologies, you said it in a humorous way. . . I get where you're coming from Heath but do you truly think that you have to change? I mean, Abbey clearly likes you for a reason. She likes you and enjoys you just the way you are, as a fire elemental. If you become ice elemental just like her . . . what if she doesn't find you attractive anymore?" It was a bit of a stretch of course, but Twyla was trying to grasp at certain concepts that may change his mind – but Heath was a stubborn soul. Anyone who knew him knew that fact.

He sighed, "Well it doesn't have to be permanent, could just be temporary couldn't it?"

Twyla thought about it briefly, if he was full on fire elemental - which she was positive that he was – her sand would only have a temporary effect anyways. It wouldn't be a permanent thing and it didn't seem like he would be giving up on the subject either so she didn't have a choice. "Oh alright Heath, I'll get you the sand you need. I must warn you that there may be some side effects, they don't happen all the time, but sometim-"

"Yeah, yeah – those go along with everything. If you could just hook a brother up, I'd be eternally grateful." He grinned and gave a bow; Twyla smiled and stopped in front of her locker.

"Oh alright, but you don't have to make this sound like a drug deal Heath. Everyone's aware of my sands, y'know."

Heath shrugged his shoulders as he was handed a small vial of snow-white sand. "Ah very well then, but just know that bitches-get-stitches and I certainly will not be the bitch on the receiving end of the stitch."

Twyla rolled her eyes and waved him off, "Bye Heath!" He waved back and walked off, tucking the vial of sand into his back pocket. "Be careful you silly boy, I hope it all goes well." She shut her locker and let out a breath, things would be just fine. She was sure of it – somewhat.

#monsterhigh #heath burns #abbey bominable #fanfiction

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no-white-knights-blog · 7 years ago

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Halo - An Etrian Odyssey Novel (Chapter 17/50)

Notes: It’s 2:30 in the morning why am I conscious how dare.

~~~~~~~

“Iliad has been acting strange lately, hasn’t he?”

Sage lifted his head from where he was concentrating on tying the laces to his boots, staring over at the other bed where Dyria had dropped himself after getting dressed, his arms folded up beneath his head and his eyes locked on the ceiling.

“Has he?” Sage asked, sitting a little straighter and pushing his hair back away from his face, “I guess a little. He’s not complaining as much about mundane things, and he’s really anxious to get back to town as soon as possible whenever we’re in the Labyrinth,” he shrugged a little, “Maybe he’s found a part time job?”

“Nice thought, but I don’t think that’s it,” Dyria sighed in frustration and pushed himself to sit up, “I’m probably overthinking things.”

“You’re allowed to overthink, you’re his brother,” Sage smiled, finishing up his laces before standing and braiding his hair over his shoulder, “Maybe you should talk to him, if you’re this concerned about him.”

Dyria frowned, staring at his lap and squeezing his hands together, “I don’t know,” he said finally, “I don’t know what I’d say. It’s hard being a brother.”

Sage frowned and played with the end of his braid before stepping forward and sitting beside Dyria, leaning against the protector and staring down, “I don’t remember my own brother very well,” he said softly, “but I know I really love him. I don’t know if Iliad would be the same, but if he loves you at all like I love my brother, then he’ll listen to you.”

Dyria was silent for a moment before Sage felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, leaning into Dyria’s embrace and smiling when he felt lips against his temple, his cheeks warming up, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

“Come on,” Sage stood up and held his hand down for Dyria, smiling at him, “You can catch him before breakfast. Do we have any requests to do today?”

“Nah,” Dyria took Sage’s hand and stood up, “I’ll probably send Vien and Nirim to the bar to check the request board, but I can’t think of any we’ve already taken, so it’ll probably be a lazy day.”

“Hm, yea, maybe I can get Iliad to actually show up for our training,” Sage noted, holding his chin, “He’s been skipping out the last few times, I think he’s avoiding me. Like he’s scared of me or something.”

“Good morning you two,” Emery greeted from behind them in the hall, and Sage and Dyria both stopped to look back at him and the innocent smile on his lips as he pushed his glasses higher onto his face, “Dear leader, are you afraid maybe you’ll be separated from Sage by any chance, or did you hold hands unconsciously?”

Sage looked down and squeaked before tearing his hand away from Dyria’s, the protector scowling at Emery with red on his cheeks, “Don’t be stupid. Where’s Iliad? I needed to talk with him about something.”

Emery just hummed and frowned, “He left earlier, said he wanted to train some.”

“Again?” Sage asked, holding his hand against his chest, “He keeps skipping out on our sessions, I figured he was just screwing around like the teenager he is, but is he actually working on his skills without me? I feel so used.”

The medic laughed and stepped forward, nudging Sage closer to Dyria as he passed them, “Don’t be silly. If you want, you can probably go catch him, I think he’s been training in the same spot just out of town in the forest, where you normally take him.”

“Ah, okay I will,” Sage smiled, looking at Dyria, “Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe he’s just being self-conscious about his abilities, and that’s why he’s been quiet and avoiding me as well.”

“Yea, could you?” Dyria sighed in defeat and dropped his shoulders, “That kid is worrying me.”

Sage chuckled a little and turned, “I’ll be back in a little.”

“Be careful out there,” Emery said, waving his hand a little, “Remember that creepy explorer who wanted to buy you, okay? Be wary about strangers and don’t get kidnapped. You’re really cute so it might happen. And don’t talk to strangers, especially if they hit on you. Be home soon.”

Dyria was tense as he watched Sage walk off, then turned to Emery, glaring, “What was all that you said?”

Emery just smiled sweetly, “Hm? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smacked Dyria’s back, “Let’s go get breakfast while we wait for him to come back, unless you want to follow him.”

“Don’t do that,” Dyria bit, and Emery just smirked as he walked ahead of his leader.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sage continued to play with the end of his braid as he made his way down the street, looking back and forth because of the slight nervousness he felt from Emery’s words. There was no way that same explorer would try anything again, not after Dyria literally threatened to behead him, but he was still a bit wary.

Alcohol could make men crazy after all, there was a possibility others from the bar would see that poster and just assume Emery was for sale, the same as that explorer from guild Bayard. He tried to think about other things to avoid that fear, watching his feet as they carried him through Lagaard and towards the edge of the forest where he’d been training with Iliad.

The moment he lifted his head it tilted, and he quickly stepped behind the trunk of a tree, peering around it to watch the two young men in front of him. Iliad had his bow in one hand, the other propped on his hip, and standing with him was a gunner by appearance, his face pinched up as he reloaded his gun.

“You still suck, but you’re getting better,” Iliad was saying, his voice chiding and almost supportive, “If you can actually hit a target, you might be able to survive in the Labyrinth.”

“So you’ve said,” the gunner gave a crooked grin and dropped the rest of his bullets into a pouch on his belt, “You’ve been there before, right? The Labyrinth? What’s it like?”

Iliad arched an eyebrow and turned, lifting his bow and propping it on his shoulder, looking up, “I don’t know, I’m never really paying attention to the scenery when we’re there. Too busy looking around for things that want to kill us.”

“That’s no good, Iliad. What happened to living in the moment?”

“Well, that’s a bit hard to do when you could die at any second,” Iliad narrowed his eyes at the gunner, “Keep that in mind. You’re too cavalier during training, it’s like you don’t even care!”

“I care,” the gunner whined a little, “Just so you know I’ve been in the Labyrinth before, it’s just been a while.”

“Oh really,” Iliad pinched the bridge of his nose and the gunner smiled, folding his arms behind his head.

“Yea. My parents used to take me on walks on the first floor, to get me ready for it. I know they wanted me to be an explorer like they were, so I could experience the same things,” his smile faded a little and he stared up at the canopy above his head, “I remember it being really beautiful.”

Iliad dropped his hand, staring at the explorer with a frown before throwing a kick into his shin to distract him from staring up, “Quit getting distracted,” he said, pointing at a target that was hanging on a tree, “Go on.”

“Why don’t you hit it?” the gunner complained, pointing in the same direction, “All this time you’ve just been yelling at me, so why don’t you do something? Prove your skill to me,” he grinned, “Let’s see who’s better.”

Iliad scoffed, reaching for the quiver hanging at his back and slipping out an arrow, using it to point, “You first. Hit the target.”

The gunner turned with a hum and lifted the gun up, “Fine then.”

He pulled the trigger and a crack sounded in the air. A tear showed on the very top of the white target, but the bullet was nowhere near the rings, and the gunner dropped his arm with a frustrated grumble while Iliad laughed and held an arm out.

“Nice, for a noob, but watch this.”

Sage smiled a little and leaned a little further around the tree, watching Iliad notch the arrow to the string of his bow before lifting it, pulling back before loosing it. The arrow lodged into the target in the second ring, but it was nowhere near the center, and the gunner snorted.

“Okay fine, better than me, but you’re hardly perfection.”

“Maybe shut up and let me do it again,” Iliad snapped, and Sage rolled his eyes, stepped from around the tree and folding his arms as he watched the overconfident explorer aim a second arrow.

He did worse that time, and Sage huffed a little, pulling an arrow from the quiver at his side and lifting his bow, shooting an arrow between Iliad and the unknown gunner so it lodged into the center of the target.

“Whoa!” the gunner looked at Iliad, “How did you do that?!”

Iliad just cringed, “I fuckin’ didn’t,” he mumbled, turning and wincing when he saw Sage waving.

“So this is why you’ve been missing lessons? Because you made a new friend?”

“He’s not my friend,” Iliad snapped as Sage stepped forward, holding his bow behind his back, “He’s just some idiot who wanted help! I just decided to help him on a whim! What do you want?”

“Don’t get cocky when you’re training,” Sage said simply, stopping beside Iliad and pointing at the target, “Overconfidence can result in mistakes. Just because you’re trying to show off doesn’t immediately make you better. You still need training of your own.”

“Who’s this?” the gunner pointed at Sage, and Iliad bristled defensively.

“No one! Just some guy who’s in love with my brother!”

Sage blushed and tensed up, “I’m not in love with him!”

Iliad snorted and leaned towards Sage, “Yea, that’s why you’re blushing and why he’s always holding your hand when we’re in the Labyrinth!”

“I’m Arcan,” the gunner waved with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Sage,” he pulled his eyes away from Iliad and smiled at Arcan, “How did you meet Iliad? Have you been training together for a while?”

“A week, I met him at the fountain in town,” Arcan explained, playing with his gun, “He’s been helping me out, yea. I want to train so I can go into the Labyrinth and make a bit more money by taking requests, so I was looking for someone to train me and ran into Iliad.”

“A whole week, hu?” Sage held his chin and smiled at Iliad, “I thought you didn’t like gunners?”

“I don’t!” Iliad shrilled indignantly, “This guy can go fuck himself, I just felt sorry for him!”

“Mhm,” Sage looked back at Arcan, “Why a survivalist? I’m sure there are dozens if not hundreds of gunners in town that would be willing to train you.”

Arcan shrugged a little, rubbing the back of his neck, “My mom was a gunner and she was trained by a survivalist, so I guess I just wanted to follow in her steps. Plus, it’s kind of hard to talk to gunners when I have no experience.”

“That shouldn’t be a big deal, really,” Sage said, “Well, it’s interesting that Iliad actually accepted you and is training with you.”

“I know, right?” Arcan laughed, “Well, he wasn’t my first choice, I originally asked the survivalist from the Guardians guild, but he tried to shoot me. Honestly, I really thought Iliad would reject me like everyone else had,” he shrugged, “It was a stroke of luck that he decided to actually help me.”

“Hello, I’m right here!” Iliad waved an arm between Sage and Arcan, “Quit talking about me when I’m standing right here, what’s wrong with you?!”

Sage just laughed softly, “Yea, Iliad is a little difficult, but he’s really a sweetheart. Just a little defensive and damaged, but everyone is.”

“Excuse me?” Iliad clenched his teeth, but Arcan didn’t seem to notice the way he was bristling like a cat as he just hummed with a smile.

“So, you want to go into the Labyrinth?” Sage asked, “Do you have a guild?”

Iliad threw his hands up and walked in a half circle as Arcan winced a little, “No, but I don’t plan on taking on any requests higher than the first floor.”

“Even the first floor can be dangerous,” Sage warned, wincing a little, “My first guild was annihilated on the first floor.”

Iliad winced a little and turned around, folding his arms and eyeing Sage as Arcan looked down, “My dad did too,” he admitted, “It was more of an unfortunate incident than a full-on attack from a monster. I can’t remember what happened very well, I was pretty young.”

“I’m sorry,” Sage said softly, and Arcan smiled weakly.

“When did you lose your guild?”

“Ah, maybe… a month ago?” Sage hummed, and Arcan’s eyes widened as the survivalist lifted his hand to his forehead, holding his bangs up to show the scar on his forehead, “I have no memory of it though.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Arcan laughed awkwardly, “Ah, this may sound really terrible, but you look kind of familiar.”

Iliad gave Arcan a disbelieving look and Sage dropped his bangs back into place before pointing at himself, “I do?”

“A little,” Arcan mumbled, holding his chin, “I mean, you’re not who I’m thinking of, but you kind of look like him.”

“Who?” Iliad asked, and Arcan dropped his arm.

“A little over a month ago, I ran into this survivalist with green hair, you have a similar look to you.”

Iliad’s eyes widened as Sage’s breath hitched a little, and he grabbed Arcan’s arm, making him jump in surprise, “Wh-what did he look like exactly? What was he like?”

“Uh,” Arcan gaped at Sage, “He, uh, had darker hair than you, and a lot shorter. He was nice I guess. I was carrying supplies from the dock and a few people knocked me over, and that guy stopped to help me up,” he paused and smiled crookedly, “Actually when he realized I was a gunner he asked if I’d join him on an expedition into the Labyrinth, but I had to take care of my grandma and my brother so I couldn’t. I wish I’d said yes though. I haven’t seen that guy since then.”

Sage had dropped his head midway through Arcan’s explanation, and was shaking considerably, so Arcan lifted his hand and squeezed his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?”

“Sage,” Iliad took Sage’s other arm, “Hey, do you recognize that guy or something?”

Sage nodded, releasing Arcan and reaching both hands to his head, squeezing his eyes shut, “M-my head hurts, I’m sorry, I-I think I should get back to the inn.”

“Right, come on, I’ll help,” Iliad wrapped an arm behind Sage’s back, “Sorry, Arcan. Pick this up later? I’ll stop by your place.”

“Sure,” Arcan agreed, looking guilty, “I’m sorry if I did something.”

Sage laughed softly, “No, it’s okay,” he opened one eye and smiled at Arcan, “Just, one thing. It’s good that you didn’t join him,” he dropped one hand from his head, “You likely would have died.”

“What was that?” Iliad asked on the way back to the inn, one hand on Sage’s back, “Did you remember something?”

“I remembered my brother,” Sage answered weakly, rubbing at his scar, “I think Arcan met him.”

“You mean you remember his face?”

“Yea,” Sage brightened, both eyes opening, “He had dark green hair cut at his shoulders, he kept it out of his face in a ponytail, and he carried more arrows than I did. His eyes were dark purple, and he smiled a lot.”

Iliad watched him silently before humming, “Good, you remembered something. And interrupted me while I was training my student.”

“A student who happens to be a gunner?” Sage arched an eyebrow at Iliad, who tensed up.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas, I’m doing it on a whim,” Iliad sassed, folding his arms, “I figured I could get something out of it, and I am, training with him has already made me a little better.”

Sage rolled his eyes, “Uh-huh, very convincing,” he smiled, “Dyria will be happy you made a friend, and a gunner no less. He’s been worried about you, you know?”

Iliad appeared surprised, “Why?”

“You’ve been quiet lately is all,” Sage shrugged, “Now I know why, you’ve just been really busy training with your new friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Iliad repeated, “Can we just get home so you can be with my freaking brother already? Frickin hell.”

Sage blushed again and turned, folding his arms, “Nothing’s going on between us. What is it with you and Emery?”

“We have eyes?”

“Well, so do I, and I can see you and Arcan are friends,” Sage huffed, and Iliad squinted.

“I don’t like you.”

“Don’t be a brat, let’s just go eat breakfast so you can go play with your little friend later.”

#EO #etrian odyssey #fanfiction #original characters #guild halo #three am updates #i have work in four hours kill me

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