#they should've gotten to make each other worse forever :(

[weidli]

oh, berlin, nobody knows where you've been

[mystic-myrtille]

94 for Lukanette.

This was so much fun! (putting this under cut bc this got longer than planned)

#94: A “how about we ruin this friendship?” kiss

Juleka poured some hot mint tea in the two cups on the kitchen counter.

„You look more pathetic than usual, bro,“ she commented. „Clearly something happened yesterday that is messing with your head and, as your sister, it is my duty to help you go through your crisis. So, spill.“

Luka fidgeted nervously with the guitar pick he had worn as a necklace for years now. Normally holding it in his hand helped him to think more clearly and relax, but now, it just made him even more anxious. Probably because the person who gave it to him was also the reason for his, as his sister called it, crisis.

„I... I... god, I'm an idiot.“ He laid his head on the counter and sighed.

„That's old news,“ Juleka smiled.

„Screw you, you're not being helpful.“

„How can I if I still don't know what your fucking problem is?“, Juleka sounded annoyed.

Luka sighed again. „Fair point.“

If Juleka had any snarky comment, she decided to keep it to herself and just gave him the cup , who lifted his head, examined the tea and then took a sip.

„Ok, so,“ he began, „yesterday at our album release celebration, after you and Rose went to the store to grab more snacks, Ivan took off to pick up Mylene from her activist group meeting, leaving me and Marinette alone on the upper deck.“

He could feel his heart beat getting faster.

„And... well, we shared a bean bag, cuddled up next to each other, and shared the last remaining cupcake.“

Juleka raised her eye brows, but remained silent.

„And then... well...“

He looked away, still fumbling with the pick.

And?“, Juleka leaned forward.

„ … She had some frosting at the corner of her mouth and I just wanted to wipe it away and...“

The fumbling got worse.

He swalloed. „Everything happened so fast. Or... not really, we just kept staring at each other for what felt like an eternity and then... then I...“

The pick hit the floor as he hid his face in his hands.

„I kissed her.“

The silence that followed after this confession was suffocating. Luka rubbed his face, blushing furiously as the memory of their faces being so close to each other came back, his fingers lingering on her lower lip, the intense staring, him leaning in as his hand cupped her cheek and he asked herself what kind of magical chapstick Marinette must use that made her lips so incredibly soft-

STOP.

He dared to take a peak at Juleka, who... looked a little underwhelmed. Bored, even. As if Luka had told her about how he had done the laundry or something equally mundane and unexciting.

„You guys kissed?“, she asked for clarification. Luka nodded slowly, then a hint of a smile appeared on her face.

„Are you kidding me right now?", Luka asked irritated. His sister just looked back to him, unphased.

"This isn't a joke, Marinette is my best friend. Has been for the last couple years, and now I kissed her, which probably endangdered our friendship and you're just... what are you even talking about? Did you make a bet with the others or what is going on?“

Juleka lifted her hands in defense. „Bro, honestly you should've done that sooner, then I would've gotten fifty euros instead. You're the one ruining my chances of getting rich, so stop whining. Also, what do you mean 'endangered your friendship?'“

Luka looked at her dumbfounded. „You can cosider yourself lucky that I don't have the energy to get into the money thing right now, but... Marinette is my best friend. And best friends don't just kiss like that? Since I knew her, she had never shown any sign that she liked me as anything else.“

„Luka-“

„She first dated Adrien forever, and after their break-up nothing between us had changed, either.“

„Luka-“

„And now I pushed myself onto her in a moment of... weakness, I guess? I don't know, but I kissed her without even asking first. That's so wrong on so many levels and now-“

„First of all, I need you to chill the fuck out,“ she said, „and second of all, how are you so sure the friendship is ruined or whatever? Did she reject you afterwards?“

Luka bit his lips. „I... I don't know? I mean, after we... well, you guys suddenly showed up and we couldn't talk about it with the whole group also being there, obviously. So we sat there for ten minutes while you guys were talking about god knows what and she completely avoided looking at me! And the when she left, she rejected my offer to accompany her home, which she had never done before! So clearly she's uncomfortable around me now and probably doesn't want anything to do with me any longer.“

He sighed.

„I mean, she knows how I feel. I told her back then, when I got akumatized the first time, while also making clear that I don't ask for her to return those feelings, so it never was a problem. I never wanted to pressure her into anything she didn't want and... now I did just that.“

Luka buried his face in his hands again. This was a nightmare.

He felt two hands on his shoulder, gently massaging him.

„Luka,“ Juleka's voice became soft again. „I think you're being too hard on yourself. If Marinette didn't want to kiss you, she would've slapped you. And her going home alone could also be because she was just as flustered as you and just was too awkward to talk about it with you. You know how she gets overwhelmed like that sometimes.“ She ruffled his hair. „So don't beat yourself up over it, 'kay?"

„What am I supposed to do?“, he asked, sounding absolutely devastated.

Juleka patted his back. „Talk to her, obviously. Figure out what you both want. I don't think Marinette would throw away your friendship just like that. Besides, you can't know if her feelings didn't change and she just didn't say anything until now.“

Juleka shrugged. „To be fair, we sort of suspected such a thing might happen sooner or later. I don't know, you guys always seemed very couple-y with each other, so I wasn't surprised when you told me about the kiss. I always thought it was just a matter of time.“

The "Hm" sound Luka made didn't sound convinced at all. He looked down to the floor where the pick laid.

"I don't know. How are you so sure of this?"

Juleka raised an eye brow. „Luka, we all have eyes. But if you don't want to believe me, stop being a coward...“ she picked up the necklace from the ground and put it in his hands, „and ask Marinette yourself.“

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, while she gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. „Go get her, tiger.“

As he was about to sprint out of the kitchen, he suddenly came to a halt in front of the door, barely avoiding a collision with...

„Marinette?“

The unexpected visitor returned Luka's surprised gaze for a few seconds.

„Uh... hey, Luka. Hey, Juleka,“ she said and managed a smile.

„Speak of the devil,“ Juleka mumbled bemused and walked past Marinette. „I just remembered, I have some business to attend to. You two have fun.“

With that, she disappeared. Marinette looked after her, then turned around to stare at Luka again, and it felt like the night they were sitting together on the bean bag all over again.

„Hey,“ Marinette said again.

Luka smiled. „Hey.“

„Can, uh... can we talk?“

Luka felt his heart beating, loud and erratic, in his chest. Whether out of excitement of seeing her or out of anxiety for what she might say next, he wasn't sure. He simply gestured to one of the seats, inviting her to sit down, which she did. Luka sat down next to her.

For a moment, neither of the two said anything and never before had silence felt so unfomcortable and awkward than in this moment, despite the fact that it was between two best friends who were always comfortable around each other. And Luka absolutely hated that he felt that way. So when he could no longer stand the silence, he worked up the coursage to take the first step.

„I'm sorry for kissing you last night. I don't know why I did that, I just... I guess there was... um... I don't know, I feel awkward and... I'm so sorry. For ruining our friendship like that.“

He looked away. „I just pushed myself onto you and that wasn't right. I understand if you don't want to hang around me anymore, just... I want you to know that I never meant for that to happen and I'm terribly sorry.“

Marinette bit her lips. She stared at the half empty tea cup Juleka had left behind, and the fact that she didn't look at him made him even more nervous of what was to come.

„Luka,“ she began carefully, „First of all, you didn't push yourself onto me, I, uhm... I mean I leaned in as well and, uh...“

She took a deep breath. „The truth is, I...“

He closed his eyes to brace himself.

„I honestly wish you were a little less sorry.“

His eyes flew wide open.

„Huh?“

Marinette turned to look at him directly.

Marinette turned to look at him directly.

„I know we've been best friends since forever and I deeply cherish this friendship, I really do. You've been there for me everytime I needed a shoulder to cry on, we celebrated milestones together, we spent so much time together and I enjoyed every second of it. And over time... well... I guess I sort of... I though... God, I should've written this down before coming here.“

Luka gave her an encouraging smile. „Ah, no , you're doing fine. I'm just as much at a loss of words here, so please take your time. “

She smiled. „You're always so patient with me. I like that,“ she said and the way she smiled at him made his stomach turn in the most pleasant ways.

„So yeah, over time, something changed. About the way I see you. The way I... feel... about you.“

Luka didn't dare to breathe.

„I didn't really understand at first what it was that I felt. Until we kissed last night...“

She adverted her gaze, not being able to look him in the eyes any longer.

„What I'm trying to say is... I liked it. Kissing you, I mean. I really liked it.“

He was dreaming. He had to. Juleka must've put something in that tea so he would doze off and imagine this whole scenario right now. There was no way, no freaking way, that Marinette had just come here (or ran, judging by how sweaty she actually looked) to confess to him that she liked kissing him. The only thing making him doubt his theory was Marinettes hand slowly moving towards his own and touching it, which felt entirely too real to just be a dream.

„O-oh,“ he said. „That's... really?“

Wow, a girl just confessed and that's your answer to that? Way to go, Couffaine.

„I mean, good,“ he quickly added, „I was scared you wouldn't want to see me again afterwards. With how weird I was-“

„What?“ Marinette more or less jumped out of her chair, looking almost offended. „Why would I not? I would be stupid to ignore you after everything! Do you actually have any idea how importat, how precious, you are to me?“

„I meant what I said, Luka. Our friendship means the world to me. You mean the world to me. This kiss didn't ruin anything between us! If anything, it ruined me! I had to come here and talk to you about this and figure things out because I couldn't freaking distract myself. No matter what I did, baking or sewing, I kept thinking about how dreamy and perfect that stupid kiss was! And you have the audacity to doubt yourself like that? Are you for real?“

Luka stared at her confused.

„The... the kiss was that distracting to you?“

Marinette seemed to have suddenly realised what she had just admitted to, blushed furiously, and hid her face in his shoulder. He burst out laughing, and wrapped one arm around her.

„Gosh, Mari,“ he gasped, „you're adorable!“

„Shut up!“, she whined, but he could hear that she was laughing as well.

After they both calmed down, they stayed like this, half cuddling, while Luka stroked her back with one hand.

„So, that means we're good?“, he asked.

Marinette lifted her head and pressed her forehead against his. „Yeah, we're good.“

Luka smiled. „I'm glad.“

Marinette opened her eyes and he found himself once again drowning in her breathtakingly beautiful eyes.

„You know,“ Luka said after a while, „I actually don't really have anything against ruining our friendship. If that means I'll get to kiss you again.“

"Then what are you waiting for?", Marinette smiled. „Ruin it.“

He closed the distance with more confidence this time, holding her face close to his as she ran her fingers through his hair, making soft moaning sounds as he got bold enough to let his tongue slip into her mouth. He tilted his head to further deepen the kiss, letting one hand slinde from her cheek over her shoulder to her upper back.

Perfect didn't even begin to preoperly describe the way he felt.

After breaking the kiss to actually catch some air, Luka got up and lifted Marinette onto the counter, one hand resting on her thigh, the other cupping her cheek while he stood in between her legs as she tried to pull him closer, as if she wanted to keep him there forever.

If their first kiss was like a question, this one was the answer.

Send me a number and I'll write a short(ish) Lukanette fic!

[kiaroscuro]

Title: as the world caves in

Warnings: descriptions of violence, major character death

Rating: Mature

Main Pairing: Ren Amamiya / Arsene

Main Tags: post-canon, zombie au, angst, hurt / comfort, road trips

Warning:

· · ─────── =^.^= ─────── · ·

The persona is nothing if not attentive over the next few days, always around Ren to make sure that his side and eye didn't get worse; there was little to do for the lighting-strike other than to keep the surface of Ren's skin soft and flexible, and they've started treating it like the burn wound on Ren's arm. They don't speak much, basking in each other's presence while the wind howls outside, rattling the metal carcass of the plane and howling in sorrow. Once Ren feels as if he can walk for more than two steps, Arsene takes him to the pilot's cabin, making Ren sit down in the seat while the persona occupies the other, and then he starts talking about the controls of the plane. Arsene recites from not-memory how to fly a simple one, how many of the little devices were used by the military first. After some time, he started taking apart and inspecting the radio unit of the plane in the hopes of repairing it. Ren listens to him, watches the snowstorm swallow everything in white while the voice of his other half washes over him, and imagines a simpler life, one where he could've finished high school and then gone back to Tokyo for university. Sometimes, flecks of the star-lit sky become visible, and Ren's eyes search out familiar constellations, the North Star always a focal point, Ursus Major another he recognizes.

Ren closes his eyes and imagines meeting Zenkichi and Akane and the Yoshizawa twins in another life; maybe a new Metaverse would've emerged over summer vacation, and he and his thieves could've met Zenkichi as an officer working on the same case. Akane and the twins could've joined them as persona users, and Zenkichi and Sojiro could've met and gone along splendidly. Maybe Konoe would be one of Ren's confidants, the man a broken mess even before the cataclysm. He ruminates on their possible code-names, imagines how his thieves would've reacted to meeting them, imagines how Mona would've gotten along greatly with Akane. Arsene's voice has fallen into a steady rhythm, and he shifts ever-so-often to adjust his wings in the seat, claws drawing over the console and plucking around electrical wires without any power left.

Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Ren closes his eyes, feels his side dull to a slow throb, and listens as Arsene fumbles around with the broken radio unit while talking about his adventures of long past, telling tales about the world war because both of them were in a maudlin mood. It's a strange camaraderie, almost domestic in how at ease he finds himself in the persona's presence, and Ren thinks that he could grow used to staying like this forever.

(What a dangerous thought.)

Deft claws take apart the front panel of the radio, more wires exposed, a tangled mess that has Arsene hiss in displeasure. Ren eyes it, watches cables and wires twine together and destroy each other, and closes his eyes, exhaling once while he lets his weight sag against the seat. "...it's all such a mess," Ren murmurs, and Arsene's wings twitch and his fire flickers before he turns towards Ren with a low-burning confusion.

I can untangle them just fine, do not worry, mon cher. The persona says, but Ren shakes his head. "Everything had been perfectly fine, and then it got-- tangled together, and now I don't know--" he stops, stares down at his hands and imagines the blood of the nebiros and mithra on them. He can still taste the blessed flesh, insides protesting at the sense-memory. Arsene is silent for a moment.

...we aren't talking about the radio unit, are we? He asks, softly, and Ren breathes in shakily, tries to keep his voice even. Arsene's fire softens, before he puts the mess of cables and wires down on the console again, turning towards Ren.

"I should've listened to you and leave, but--" He shudders, "-- I really thought I could trust him. I just don't know why--"

He paid attention to ye, Arsene comments, still soft. At thy exploits and thy knowledge, and he allowed thee to use it for the people in a way that made a difference. My dear, this was not a trap thou could've known how to escape, because Maruki made certain to slather the oil with honey. He exploited natural human need for companionship and thy natural desire to help people -- for that, I cannot be sorry enough.

Ren draws in another shaky breath, eyes blinking because he can feel the tears stinging. "But--"

My greatest regret is not being there for ye throughout all of it.

I let him touch me--! Ren cries, unable to voice it out loud. He clenched his hands into fists before winding them around his elbows, pressing them against his stomach at the sick feeling surfacing. The wound on the side gives off a dull throb almost as if in warning, but Ren ignores it, relishes in the pain. "...I let him touch me," a broken murmur, "even though..."

Claws carefully pried his fingers off, smoothing them out one by one, Arsene's finger pads trailing over the palm of Ren's hands until they stopped clenching and lay flat on his thighs. Ren glances sideways at his persona, who had never looked so human as in that moment, regret trailing down over his mask like tears of golden ichor as he knelt next to Ren. Did what happened with Mademoiselle Shiho or even our own Panther make them weak in thy eyes? The persona asks gently. Ren hiccoughs and shakes his head. Of course not, but Ren's fallen for Takuto's soft words and machinations while Ann and Shiho had been forced into compliance...

Arsene thrums, lowly. His head tilts to the side, claws gently squeezing Ren's hands. Like this, Ren can see the cut on his throat, the thin line of discolored flesh. Had Fox not believed that Madarame was a honest and just man because he was raised under pretenses? Had he not cared for the artist almost like a father, because he was at one point treated as such? Ren, what happened to thee is in no way thy own fault. Thou should know this.

And the thing is-- the thing is: rationally, Ren knows this. But Ren also knows that he'd enjoyed Takuto's attention, his soft and ready touches and gentle smiles and adoring gaze -- his and Sumire's both. Ren also feels distinctly used and manipulated, and he wants to do nothing more than scrub the memory of that last dinner off of his skin. He hates himself for his feelings, because that silk-thin strand of possibilities that had been growing between him and Arsene--

Ren isn't sure he deserves it, anymore. "Even though--" he tries again, tries to get Arsene to understand, because Ren feels wretched and hollow and so, so greedy for taking all of his persona's attention, and--

"Ren, my dear," Arsene rasps softly, "seeking out a connection in these circumstances is not something I would ever begrudge thee." I will be happy with whoever thou decide to settle with, as long as both parties consent to it.

Ren shudders. "...even Akechi?" He asks, half in jest and half because there had been something between them, amidst all the murder and subterfuge and deceit. Arsene makes a noise, wings twitching. He's got them pressed tightly against his back, Ren notes, which has to be uncomfortable. Even Crow, though I would  question thy sanity on that matter. He admits, and then adds, softer still: I mean it, though.

"I don't want anyone else's attention," Ren admits, lowering his lashes and eyes growing distant. "I... for a long time now, I think, I didn't want anyone else's attention but yours." He's still fixated on the cut, remembering how soft the skin had felt under the touch of his lips. Arsene's exhale is a breath of warm air.

"I know, mon cher."

"I know I'm never going to have all of it," Ren continues, haltingly, because it is in Arsene's nature to be flighty. He is a magpie with treasures of gold and women, hoarding one shiny thing until something new catches his eye. Ren's read the novels, and moreover, Arsene is part of his own heart, and-- "but if I could have it for now, I'd..."

Oh, Ren, Arsene murmurs, squeezing Ren's hands before carefully turning his kneeling into a crouch, his mask pressed to the side of Ren's face. "I cannot promise that you'll have me forever, but for as long as I am by your side, you'll have me." You've had me ever since the day we've met for the first time, Arsene adds, softly.

Ren breathes out a weight he hadn't noticed holding. "Oh," he murmurs, before closing his eyes and turning in his seat until he can hug Arsene, until he can feel the persona's claws trail through his hair and over his cheek while Ren burrows his head in his neck. Thank you.

First << >> Next

[mouseratz]

"an American werewolf in Paris" is, rightfully known as a shit show. it totally is. but it's so baffling because its one of those that feels like there could've been a good movie underneath, if the straight boy fanfiction & Extreme 90s-ification hadn't gotten in the way. exploring the idea that there is a cure for lycanthropy but extremely difficult to access and that some wolfs wouldn't want it or would impede someone from seeking it out is fine, and then have the setup of the first movie inversed where the female love interest is the wolf and you're questioning different things.....that sounds okay! (& even as is, they kept the lore consistent enough where Kessler would've been unable to access this hypothetical cure anyway, so it still wouldn't have touched the first film). and it would still keep the very fun to watch lore of "werewolves can see the dead and are forever attached to those they've taken the lives of, because lycanthropy is a true curse"......sure! would it have been as good as the first one? no! but it could've been a decent werewolf movie. I would've really liked that movie and not been dissatisfied.

but the movie itself. the aesthetic is bad, the wolves redesigned for CGI and looking just dogshit. the boys are not only unmemorable and largely indistinguishable from each other from a writing perspective, but they're all misogynistic perverts, genuinely. where in the first film the two boys struck me as "mildly stupid and opportunistic college kids", the mild hints of misogyny are more acceptable as a perspective of these characters, as showing of their naivety and bad decision-making, and not the entire film itself (which treats it's female love interest with an amount of nuance, even if she is still ultimately mostly just that plot wise). in Paris? the movie views one of the most important characters (the female werewolf who I literally cannot remember the name of) the same as their male protagonists (as a sex object, to be clear) and you're just asked to laugh at increasingly uncomfortable sexual behavior (which is never criticized, and then at the end, he gets the girl, they get married). the ending itself just feels so horribly tacked on and they all loved happily ever after :) where one of In London's best features is a bitterly tragic ending that adds to the atmosphere the theming & the general horror of the film. I'm not saying this also had to be a tragedy, but it should've had something to say more than "they're not werewolf's and they're happy forever and ever :)". idk. this movie is worse than bad or like boring or uninspired because it's not exactly that..... it's like. there's a hint of an interesting movie under there and it's caked in some of the most unpleasant shit to watch.

[angrycowboydreamland]

"Just die!" Hero screamed.

Hero swung at Villan more. He aimed for Villans jugular. He ment to kill, to sever, to cut. Deep. But Villan was faster, smarter then Hero currently. The blade was flung from Heros hand, hitting the ground with a hard clang.

Heros breathe was ragged. Every intake of air Hero felt his diafram burn. At least 3 broken ribs. His eyes burned from a mixture of sweat and blood. Hero clutched his broken writs with his right arm. His fingers were gnarled out of shape, twisted like the branches of a tree. Blood covered his arm, making them slippery to hold on to.

Villan clicked his tounge. "You know you can't keep this up forever,"

Hero let out a ragged breath. "Fuck you."

"Why don't we take a break?"

Hero closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness flowed over him. He stumbled slightly, readjusting his footing by swaying left to right.

"Hero, you're going to pass out if we don't stop." Villan said, taking a step closer.

Hero opened his eyes once more. Blood flowed from Villans nose. A newly forming black bruise covered Villans right eye.

Villan stood 5 feet away from him. The knife lay only 3 feet away from Hero. If he was quick enough, Hero had 10 seconds to pick it up and stab Villan. Hero made the calculations in his head.

But if Villan beat him to it, Hero would be dead within 6 seconds. Hero paused.

Nah, worth it.

Hero lunged for the weapon clutching it with his good hand. But before Hero could turn on his opponent, Villan was already wresting him to the ground. Heros attempts to escape were slowed up his injuries. Hero fought, and fought, and fought until Villan took the blade out of Heros hands once more.

Hero thrashed under Villans hold, screaming, yelling, shouting every profanity he could muster. He yelled until his voice became hoarse, his body gave out. He stopped yelling when the tears streamed down his face, red and hot. A wretched sob left Heros lips. And another. And another. And another. Hero cried as he felt snot run down his face, down the back of his throat.

Hero squeezed his eyes shut. This was humiliating. For his own enemy to see him like this, to see him weak. Hero could imagine a worse punishment.

Hero kept his eyes closed until he felt the arms of Villans wrapping around him. Hero pressed his face into Villans shoulder.

"Breathe," Villan murmured. "Breathe."

Hero took in a shaky breath, trying to keep his sobs small.

"I'm trying," Hero choked out.

Villan chucked. A moment of silence passed between them.

"I know something was off with you today," Villan said.

"You've been more off the usual."

"Trying to kill you is 'off ''?" Hero asked.

"No, that's usual." Villaned hummed. "You just don't like it when I break your fingers is all."

"But you tolerated it today," Villan gazed down at Heros hands.

"Yeah," Hero mumbled.

"Why?" Villan asked.

He broke the hug, pushing Hero away. Hero grimaced. He hated when Villan did this, when he cared.

Hero shrugged. "Just wanted to mix up our fighting tonight."

Villan narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it. Maybe it was the agency again? Something personal? Him and Hero had gotten close to ending each other before, but Villan had never seen Hero cry like this. This was new.

It was game they both played. Cat and mouse if you will. The cat gets skinned, the mouse gets poisoned. They got home, heal, and rinse and repeat next year. Maybe he should've held but with the fingers. He made a mental note of that for next year.

"Fine. But it's my turn to take you home this year."

The helping each other heal was never really in the deal. It was something they both picked up a few years back. Staying in to cook for each other or bandage one another. Not that Villan minded. Just simply helping each other scratch the other back. Nothing personal.

Hero only nodded as Villan lifted him up.

"Can we order burgers tonight then?" He asked.

Villan nodded, carrying Hero bridal style in his arms. "Yeah."

Hero passed out from exhaustion before he could hear Villans answer.

Hero x villain

Villain and Hero are fighting on top of a rooftop in the middle of the night, and the hero has been Overworking themselves for a while, and during this fight, the hero has a breakdown now the villain has to help the hero calm down

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Could I ask for a female reader with a pining Aizawa? She’s over at his house to hang out, and the tension between them is already high because she’s been pining for him too, but they try to play it cool. It doesn’t help that, as they talk, they realize that they’re so close (with her on his kitchen counter and him standing, arms crossed, across from her). Her thighs have his heart pumping, and when she leans forward to talk (with a knowing tone in her voice) the built up emotions spill over

Aaaaaaaaaaa ok this probably isn't what you were looking for but i got inspired and went with it skskks i hope you enjoy 💕

It's better this way.

Word count: 633

CW: angst (?), fluff

This wasn't what Aizawa wanted.

Well, technically it was, but it wasn't the right path he should be taking. He didn't have time for love, for a relationship. Neither of his jobs left much room for companionship. Plus there was always the chance that things could go south and he would leave his partner a widow. He didn't want anyone to go through that, so he avoided love.

But of course that's not how life goes. Of course he met you and immediately questioned putting up such high walls.

You were a vision, to put it lightly. There was never a dull moment around you. Your presence alone made him suddenly feel like life was worth living, that it was more than work. What's worse was that you were beautiful not just on the surface, but inside too. He'd never met someone as intriguing as you, as inquisitive and compassionate. It made his heart ache for something he didn't know he desired.

But he kept his distance. It was better this way. The further away he was, the less likely he was to fall further into this inescapable pit.

But you never did make things easy.

He suspected you felt something similar, some sort of spark between the two of you, but you never spoke a word about your feelings so he kept his to himself as well. It was better this way. If your feelings were out in the open, then you would have to address them and he wasn't ready for that.

A part of him hated how close the two of you had gotten. This was dangerous, this friendship you had built between each other, late nights ordering takeout or cooking something quick and cheap. How often did you come over? It felt like every night, always ten minutes after he arrived home from patrol, the sun threatening to rise in the distance. Maybe he should've told you to stop coming over, but your company made his stomach churn in unimaginable ways. He actually liked this feeling, and he was reluctant to let it go.

Once again you were here, sitting on his counter as water began to bubble on the stove. You were swinging your legs, mumbling about something he wasn't interested in. He felt bad that he wasn't paying attention to your words, but how could he? You were wearing the tiniest shorts he had ever seen on you, your thighs squished against his stained countertop. He wondered how soft they felt, how they would mold between his fingers, between his teeth. How would you react if his stubble scratched along your inner thigh? Would you jump? Would you whine? Would you complain about how uncomfortable the sensation was? He considered shaving to be a waste of time, but for you he would do it daily—

"Shou?" Aizawa blinked, looking up to meet your gaze. You were leaning forward, hands clasped around the edge of the granite, pouting. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. He hated to admit it, but this was all wrong. He didn't want to keep you at arm's length; he wanted to pull you in and hold you tight and keep you close forever. It was better this way, keeping a distance, but god damn it if he didn't hate it with every fiber of his being.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" you pressed, lips curling slightly, teasing. "You look a little red."

This was a horrible idea, terrible. It would only lead to disaster. Aizawa knew it.

And yet, as he uncrossed his arms and approached you, placing his hands beside yours on the counter and leaning in close to press his lips to yours, he couldn't help but think that this was the best thing that could've ever happened to a miserable man like him.

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 .

whatever’s happening between you and hajime , tooru is not having any of it .

word count : 1.7k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀the moment you walked into the classroom, tooru felt his chest compress with the sight of you and hajime attached to each other by the hip. everything about what he saw was wrong, in every single aspect of the word. it sickened him down to the stomach. digust could never fully cover the monstrosity he witnessed.

⠀what the living hell was his girlfriend doing with his best friend, of all people?

⠀dare he even call iwaizumi his best friend at this point? friends, even?

⠀he wanted to go up to you and greet you, to ask about your being and if there was anything you needed. that's what a good boyfriend would do, right? then again, a good boyfriend wouldn't treat you like shit. nor would a good boyfriend blame you for things you had nothing to do with.

⠀and a good boyfriend certainly wouldn't tell you to fuck off, leading up to a car crash that would most likely ruin him for the rest of the year.

⠀"oikawa, are you not going to say anything to y/n?"

⠀shook from his thoughts at the mention of your name, tooru winced as he eyed the individuals around his desk. they all had the same face; angry, disgusted scowls meant for only him. he deserved it, he really did; he had purposely turned his head to the window the moment you walked in. he wanted to keep his gaze outside too, if not for these people around him.

⠀shrugging slightly as he looked up at his unwanted company, he spotted you standing idly at your designated desk. turning his vision slightly to the right, there was iwaizumi, paging you over and over again, but you weren't listening.

⠀no, your eyes were completely on his.

⠀his heart skipped a beat as your eyes focused on him and him alone, a million thoughts ran through his head like a marathon as he tried to understand why you were looking at him, and why you were looking at him so... curiously. did you know? did you remember everything? how much did hajime really tell you? it didn't take an idiot to know he had been spending the most time with you, so there was no guessing of what he's informed you of. as far as tooru knew, he'd already told you of how shitty of a boyfriend he was, and that he'd never be worth your time again.

⠀but if that were the case, you wouldn't have looked over at him so fondly. just one second of shared eye contact was enough to brand the image of you in oikawa's head for the rest of the day, leaving him to ponder on what he should do about you, and how to make his own life less miserable than what he had already bestowed upon himself. part of him wanted to give up, to accept that he was a complete asshole unworthy of redemption.

⠀and he would've accepted it too,

⠀if hajime iwaizumi wasn't in the picture.

⠀something about the way he looked so perfect, so delighted, so content with being right next to you, at your beck and call - it was disgusting. truely, utterly humilating. the way hajime was so quick to answer to your every need; tooru noticed it all day, the way iwaizumi came to your rescue every time you needed anything. directions, assistance with assignments, even remembering names. whatever your problem was, iwa had the solution. and it sickened tooru down to the pits of his stomach.

⠀it's as if he wanted to replace oikawa as your boyfriend.

⠀he ignored it in the past, whenever he heard rumors about the ace's crush on you. makki and mattsun would constantly tease iwaizumi about it, but would stop whenever the captain enter the room. there were only a couple of times where the brunet had fully listened in to a couple of conversations, but he never thought anything of it in the past. why should oikawa care if iwa had a crush on his girlfriend? tooru knew you were completely smitten over him, so there was nothing he had to be self-conscious about.

⠀looking at the two of you now, ignoring iwa's growing feelings for you added to his list of never-ending regrets.

⠀seeing how his best friend was able to sweep you away from him so easily, it scared tooru, to say the least. had he been planning this for a while? was he always eyeing for the day you and him would finally call it quits? tooru remembered vividly how quickly iwaizumi was to act upon you running out of the gym that dreadful day, and how he himself was frozen in nothing more than confusion. his first assumption was that you were running home, since you didn't live too far from seijoh.

⠀of course, that assumption ran clear down the drain the moment iwa returned with you bleeding out in his arms. tooru didn't know where you were bleeding from - most likely the head, assuming it was a car accident. you were fluttering in and out of consciousness, which scared oikawa back into reality.

⠀you were dying in iwaizumi's arms.

⠀he... he's your boyfriend, so he has every right to see if you're okay, right?

⠀so why the fuck won't iwaizumi let him near you?

⠀who gave him the right to tell him to stay away from you? no, he should be the one staying away from you, you were oikawa's girlfriend. his significant other. not iwaizumi's.

⠀yet, he was the one treating you the way a real boyfriend should.

⠀tooru was left alone at school again after another long day, his thoughts in a scramble as he walked around the halls to think. he considered walking into the gym, but he hadn't touched a single volleyball in weeks. did he even deserve to pick up a volleyball again? it was the sport that drove him into an angry frenzy, unleashing a chain reaction leading to your accident. it was by chance you got by with just a concussion and amnesia; it could've been much, much worse - worst being you dying. and it would've been your own boyfriend's fault.

⠀tooru turned the corner to bump into none other than hajime himself, who seemed to be in a hurry before laying eyes on his former captain. the two males stood in front of each other in silence, the tension grew heavy in the air. oikawa didn't want to be in his presence, nor did iwaizumi want to be in his presence. their lips were sealed, there wasn't anything that needed to be said between them.

⠀"hajime? where are you?"

⠀tooru's posture stiffened at your voice, his eyes immediately wandering to spot your whereabouts. why were you still here? why were both of you still here?

⠀"y/n..." his decision made, tooru was going to find you. even with iwaizumi here, that shouldn't stop him. as aggressive as iwa was sometimes, oikawa wasn't really scared of him. if he was going to talk to you, then he damn well was going to talk to you. and the things you deserved to hear from him were endless. "i'm going to talk to y/n, iwa-chan." he spat out the nickname, one usually addressed out of endearment, like venom. it threw the other off guard, but not long enough for tooru to walk past him.

⠀"no, you're not going to."

⠀"excuse me? get out of my way, let me go see-"

⠀oikawa grunted as he felt iwa grab him by the blazer, slamming him against a locker with animalistic ferocity. he had never seen hajime so pissed off as he was now, his teeth visibly clenched together as he glared at his fellow third year. "no, you're not," he hissed, his fists clenching around the fabric even tighter to make sure tooru couldn't escape. "you're not fucking stepping near y/n today, tomorrow, or ever. you don't deserve to see her again, so do her a favor and stay out of her life. got it, shittykawa?"

⠀seeing how oikawa was helpless in his hold, iwaizumi waited for him to reply before letting him go. seeing how tooru decided it was better off remaining silent, all he really could do was let go anyway; you had just turned the same corner and came face to face with both boys.

⠀"hajime? what are you doing?"

⠀his name sounded horrible in your mouth. tooru felt sick as iwaizumi backed up and shrugged, faking a chuckle before focusing his attention on you again. "ah, y/n. nothing to worry about, just a small disagreement is all. have you finished collecting your homework yet? i'll take you home if you are, just meet me outside."

⠀"yeah, i'll go now." you nodded, but not before looking at oikawa once more. tooru wasn't even sure how to react, only sufficing with a half-hearted smile and a wave.

⠀"you're... oikawa, right?"

⠀his heart cracked in two when his surname escaped your lips. having been used to being addressed as tooru for so long, he should've never taken advantage of it. even so, all he could do in this present moment was bite his tongue to hold back from crying in front of the two of them. "yeah... yeah, that's me. glad to know you're alright... y/n."

⠀"thank you." unsure of how else to continue the conversation, you turned around and left, not wanting to pry into their conversation.

⠀iwaizumi waited until you turned the corner to face the other male once more, his facade for you completely gone. there he was back with his angry snarl, pointing a finger at him menacingly. "i'm warning you," he seethed, "stay away from y/n. you'll just make her life a living hell again, and i won't let you ruin her life twice."

⠀tooru hadn't even gotten a chance to reply before hajime turned the corner they originally bumped into, following your footsteps to walk you home, as promised. tooru couldn't process what had just happened, his brain not able to understand that iwazumi was going to take you home. that he was going to help you with homework.

⠀that he was going to be by your side everyday.

⠀no, fuck that. he couldn't let that happen.

⠀one way or another, tooru will prove to you that he can be the boyfriend you deserve, even with iwa as a thorn in his side.

⠀"fuck you, iwaizumi. i am worthy of redemption. i'll prove you wrong, just you wait."

a / n : and how exactly is tooru going to prove that he’s worthy of redemption? well... that’s for another chapter ;) n e ways ! some of y’all have heard of me beginning an iwaizumi smau , and that’s correct ! keeping it secret though , but expect the masterlist soon :>

taglist : @ot127 @rena0921 @karlitabi-rrito @psychicpercyjacksonfan @crescentbitch @amelimiles @damnirina @pasta-warlord @blossomingbangtan @clinomanians @i-am-kinda-in-a-lot-of-fandoms @manq-fandoms @citruss @sugar-wara @haikoo @anime-simp @kairostatue @awkwardspontaneity @iwantapoptartqwq @aquariarose @softestdreamer @plantisnotplant @avylee @froppysgirl @that-animebitch @wisepandaslimeland @samanthaa-leanne @dumplingzumispam @0hakaashi @captain-janeway @afterglowkuroo @bellabelieveme @attixca @chickenrest @tycrackculture @ynjimenez @lissa-writes-and-does-matchups @lavieenblancetnoir @dabilove27 @cuddleslut @crypto-s @keigosbitch @readeretal @shittykawaa @donghyuckster @adriloen @ella-solei @emiyummy

closed ;

[sophi-s]

Cost of Kindness

Chapter I: Chance encounter

By: sophi-s

Fandom: Darksiders video games

Words: 6,471

Characters: Original female character (OC), Raphael

Warnings: Graphic description of corpses, blood and injuries, disturbing imagery, swearing

Summary:

Life of a human after the apocalypse is difficult. The world seems to always be against them. Still, they keep on living. But one day something unexpected happens to one of the inhabitants of Haven. A woman named Nicola discovered something... or rather someone... who seemed to be in equally as sorry state as her entire race put together. Nothing was the same ever since. It's curious how one seemingly random event can change everything...

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Nicola got lost again. All the promises she made to both Ulthane and Jones have gone into trash when with a pang of worry she's suddenly realised she does not know where Haven is. It was supposed to be a short supply run, a little trip to some ruined store in search of food and maybe some medicine if luck wished to be on her side and it turned into a whole day long journey. She hadn't been careful enough and ended up getting spotted. She was too fast for that Trauma to get to her before she disappeared into a narrow alley but she successfully lost her orientation.

Navigating through the city used to be so easy before all this apocalypse nonsense. Nicola knew her way around better than anyone honestly. Now everything looked different. What once was her home now seemed sinister and the animosity could be felt in every, even the tiniest speck of dust. All streets, previously so familiar to her, looked exactly the same, often cut in half by obsidian spikes and pits of boiling magma which made moving around even more troubling. In short words, the entire place was a wreckage. With each moment of aimless wandering, her panic was growing. Inwardly cursing, thinking about all the reprimanding she would get after she somehow finds her way back and the fact that she's most likely going to get grounded forever, she tried to move through the street as quietly as possible, without causing any unnecessary noises. Becoming an evening snack for a pack of Goreclaws or a Trauma wasn't a very attractive fate. The latter could still be around here somewhere and the blood spilling from a cut on her forehead she got when she accidentally ran into a wooden beam protruding from a wall wasn't going to make it harder for it to eventually find her again.. It was very unlikely that the Trauma could've gotten stuck in that alley after it tried to get to her. They are dumb. But not that dumb. Though the mental image alone was quite hilarious now that she thinks about it.. To some extent imagining a Trauma helplessly shuffling to try and unstuck itself from a narrow pathway made her feel a tad better, even crack a little smile. Still, she had to think of something. She'd already lived through too much to just die at this point.

Evening? Clutching a shotgun in her shaking hands, Nicola looks out at the amber sky and her heart hastens when she realises that it really is getting late. The last rays of sun were slowly sinking behind the horizon, slowly turning the sky from warm orange to indigo as the tall buildings bathed the city in deep shadows stretching over the ground like dark omens. Just perfect. There was no other choice for her than to hide somewhere and wait until dawn and resume her search tomorrow, hoping someone will start looking for her. Going anywhere after the dusk was an equivalent of a  suicide. Demons and the Wicked tend to be especially active after the nightfall.. Nicola would rather not bump into one of the Suffering either, those things are especially nasty. Hulking, four-armed abominations melded with bodies of the dead, bringing back all those poor souls who weren't lucky enough to get away… she shudders at the thought and hastens her pace.

Most of the houses were already destroyed and usually infested with all kinds of detestable creatures she'd rather avoid - from Wicked, through all kinds of demons and Duskwings, to enormous spiders ready to cocoon any unfortunate passerby for a snack - unfit to be a shelter. But honestly, what wasn't crawling with Hellspawn these days? They were everywhere, as far as the sight can reach. Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Nicola decided to hide underneath the city, hoping she won't find any monsters there.

That was not one of her most brilliant ideas but in truth whatever she chose, it would be just as bad and she hardly cared at this point. Her legs felt as though they went a couple of inches up her arse from all day of walking and running and her empty stomach growled hungrily as she didn't get a chance to stop and eat a sandwich hidden in her backpack. It didn't take long to find a lid of a well leading to the sewers below. Just in case, Nicola dug some new shells out from her backpack and shoved them into her pocket to have easy access to them before pulling the lid out and uncovering a stinking hole in the pavement. The strong "aroma" that drifted out hit her like a brick to the face.

"Ugh.."

Nicola groaned, pinching her nose. Even after the literal armageddon, she still found sewers to be one of the grossest things ever. Like, come on, that's where all the piss and shit goes and a person who enters the sewers for even a minute comes out coated in this stench. Oh well.. It can't be worse than getting torn to shreds by a Goreclaw, can it? Up here was definitely worse than below. Everything she'd met so far - except for Ulthane, Yarin and Elanya - was trying to kill her lately. At least there was no sign of the Big Bad anywhere… Nicola had seen the so-called Destroyer only once and it was enough to last her a lifetime, considering how close she'd been back then. The fact that he didn't spot her, she probably owed the fact that she was somewhere to his right and from what she'd seen his right eye wasn't exactly in good condition. Though, she couldn't deny that the dragon did look sick as Hell - she cringed inwardly at the bad joke her mind produced - and if she wasn't scared shittless and in danger of getting eaten or burned alive, she probably would've taken out her notebook and tried to sketch him. Not often does one see a dragon up this close and Nicola had a habit of drawing anything even remotely interesting she sees. And the more challenging the thing is, the better. In her sketchbook, she already had Ulthane and his younger companions, Vulgrim, some other demons and a Fallen. The last thing she did see pretty damn close. Too close for her liking.

Pulling her stained, dark-blue neckerchief up to her nose as a mostly useless mask against the foul smell, she crouches down and with a loose piece of a brick scratches out a message on the ground, hoping either Jones or some other survivor will find it.

I'M IN THE SEWER

NIKA <3

Just to make it clear, she tears a piece of her already ragged sleeve off and places it under the aforementioned brick next to the message. It's not much but it has to be enough… Without further ado, Nicola slid inside the dark hole and closed the lid above her head. Utter blackness immediately closed around her like a thick coverlet. A quiet sound of dripping, echoing through the tunnel was all that she could hear.

Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop.

Should've thought about taking out a flashlight before cutting off the only source of light.

Grumbling under her breath, Nicola jumped down from a small ladder. But instead of landing on the hard and straight ground, her feet connected with something soft and uneven. With a small yelp, she lost her balance and fell flat onto the actual floor with a wet "Thwack!". Please just be regular water… She begged the puddle underneath her as she scrambled to her feet and pulled the backpack from her shoulders. For a few minutes, she blindly searched through her things, probing for the light source. When her fingers found the flashlight and she turned it on however, she nearly screamed.

That thing she landed on wasn't a mound of garbage like she previously assumed but a body. Body of a dead Phantom General. Its skin was in an unhealthy pallid shade, misty eyes were bulging out of their sockets. And the squishy bit she landed on was its face. Nicola nervously laughs to herself

"Maybe the stench killed him?"

The thought of a large demon dying in a sewer just because it smells bad was kind of amusing and a little comforting. But then she realised that if that was the case, then there's nothing to laugh at. What if there are some poisonous gases in here? Hydrogen sulfide, for example? If it killed a demon, undoubtedly much more hearty, then why shouldn't it do so with a human?

"Shit.. I hope not…"

Nicola curses and immediately presses the neckerchief closer to her face like it would do her any good. Well, no point in wondering about it now. If she were to get poisoned then she probably already was so… Father would be so disappointed if he found out she died in a sewer by inhaling toxic gas. I should've paid more attention to chemistry lessons…  Anyway.. Standing here will not make it any better. She might as well find herself a place to rest for a while or forever. Unless healing shards work on that stuff, she had nothing on her to help should she get poisoned. Flinging her backpack over her shoulder, Nicola turns away from the corpse and peers into the dark pathway which opened before her like a gullet of a gargantuan monster waiting to swallow her whole. Having absolutely no idea that this choice would change her miserable life forever, she takes a breath and bravely moves onward.

The Phantom General wasn't the only one. As Nicola walked deeper into the dark, stinking corridor, she noticed more bodies. Goreclaws, Wicked, Phantom Guards, even a couple of Duskwings and - this was the most unsettling discovery - the serpentine Shadowcaster… all of them pale and wizened. An unnerving feeling grew in her stomach. Nicola had seen much death as of late but this… this was horrifying. It was like walking through a tomb or a mass grave. Up close she could see something she hadn't noticed before. Something that made her mouth turn sandpaper. All of the bodies seemed… dried for the lack of a better word. As though something had drained them of their blood, leaving only shriveled husks behind. But there were no wounds, no markings. Nicola gulps at the thought that whatever killed them might still be down here with her.

Backing away, she takes a turn into another section and curls up in a corner by a metal grate blocking the way ahead. Nicola turns the flashlight off and hugs her knees to her chest, trying to control her fearful breathing. Climbing down into the sewers wasn't such a good idea after all. What if… what if there are things far worse down here than the demons she'd already seen? Her parents often scared her with stories of monsters lurking in the dark pipes and winding tunnels when she was a child but those were only supposed to keep her away from the sewers. The true reason was always the toxic miasma drifting through them. Or so she thought as she grew older. Now it seems that the former turned out to be true… And if it murdered a Shadowcaster just like that, then it was a creature to be reckoned with, no doubt.

Whatever it is that hides in here, Nicola didn't want to meet it. Whether it was a classic sewer monster, grotesque, with teeth and tentacles, or something else it didn't matter. Looking down at her left wrist, where her blessedly still working electrical watch with sun batteries was, she squinted at the numbers it showed.

7:48 P.M.

This was going to be a long night… If she survives this, she would get out and return to the Tree, and tell Ulthane she will never leave again. Essentially, she'd ground herself for him. If she could find her way back, that is.. And this might prove rather tricky. Maybe if she could find a Serpent Hole and bribe Vulgrim to take her to Haven, it would be much easier. But then again, she will have to give him something. Aside from her soul, she had nothing he would be interested in and that she could still make use of. Damn it, why is it so cold in here? Pulling the zip of her vest up to her chin, she curls up even more and hides her hands in her pockets to seek any warmth she could find. The stench wasn't even phasing her anymore. Nicola got used to it after the first few minutes. Besides, her fear was what she was mostly focused on. At least she didn't feel anything that would hint at being poisoned.. Whatever deadly stuff was down here before must've dispersed some time after the apocalypse after the disuse of the sewers. And thank God for that..

Meow…

Her head snapped up at the echo coming from the tunnel she backed out from. It was very weak and quiet but she definitely heard something that sounded vaguely like a cat. A very small and very scared cat.

Meow…

There it was again. This time accompanied by a barely visible flash of light coming from the tunnel further down. Cursing her innate curiosity, she pulled herself up to her feet and snuck towards the entrance to her little hidey-hole. The light appeared again before slowly fading. It looked a little like… like someone was coming here with a broken flashlight. Could it… could it be someone from the Tree? Maybe another survivor lost their way in the sewers? Picking up her shotgun, she decides to check it out, the thoughts of a monster not forgotten per se, but definitely pushed to the back of her mind. Wary of every step she makes, she follows the light and the sounds of a distressed animal. Sleep was never an option anyway..

As she walked onwards, the lights were getting brighter, the meowing louder and the pounding of her heart faster. There were more corpses in various states of decay and skeletons strewn about the further she headed but she decided to stay brave. Should anything attack her, she has the shotgun at the ready. Something in her head laughed at her hysterically. How can she be so naive to think that if there's a monster down here her pathetic shotgun can do it much harm? It didn't have a problem with killing all those things. Why would it have a problem with Nicola and her weak human weapon? Besides, even if she did manage to defend herself, one shot from that thing would bring half of the city down on her head. And that was something she definitely wanted to avoid.

Meow!

Another flash. Her surroundings were slowly starting to change. The bodies were left behind and she started to notice wooden crates lying here and there as though someone meant to hide the passage further down. Was this a hide out if some sort? Flash again.

Meow!

And then…

"Hush, little one… I won't let them hurt you again…"

Nicola's heart hastened when a shaky voice reached her. There really was someone down here! However, she doesn't let her ecstasy control her. They don't necessarily have to be friendly. Everyone is permanently scared and paranoid since the apocalypse and if she jumped out from a dark sewer without a warning she's more likely to receive a bullet to the face than a warm welcome. A flash, very bright this time. Before, she didn't notice it but the light was actually… green? Soft, soothing shade of green. Who uses a green flashlight? Someone who didn't have any other. We're in an apocalypse, for God's sake. Shrugging, she sneaks up towards the turn and carefully peeks into the new corridor, unable to take the anticipation any longer. And she freezes.

There were many things Nicola expected to find. Even the sewer monster was higher on her list of possibilities. But not this. Before her, approximately fifteen feet or so, in a makeshift shelter made out of ratty curtains and wooden boxes sat a humanoid figure. They were wearing some sort of metal shoulder pads on their ragged, dark green clothing, worn and stained, once undoubtedly fine knee-high boots, and a tattered and dirty hood. The gilded edges of their pauldrons were smudged and tarnished, as were the clips of the belts on their hips and across their chest. A pair of disheveled, dusted grey, feathery wings was closed around them like two shields protecting their sides and keeping the warmth in the resulting heat cave. Through a gap between the feathers, she noticed strands of long, white hair in the similar state as the wings spilling from under the hood.

This was one of those… those angels who came as the apocalypse began. Only… This one didn't seem like the rest. They didn't look like one of the warriors. And were unarmed at that, she realises once she doesn't catch a sight of any sort of weapon nearby. 

Meow!

Nicola heard it clearly now, and trying to track down the source of the sound, her eyes wandered to a hand of the angel, one which they held close to their chest. And there, on their large palm rested a tiny ball of fluff with its fur clogged with blood. The angel was hunched over a wounded kitten, and from time to time they brought up the other hand and gently ran their trembling fingers wrapped in stained bandages over the jagged claw mark along its spine. The green light flared up from angel's fingertips as gradually the wound was stitching itself. A sorcerer then. If meeting Shadowcasters was any indicator, then it would be better not to mess with this one.

Meow!

The kitten cried again and the angel, now she was pretty sure it was a male, spoke with a soft and calming, but shaking voice that reached to the depth of her soul.

"Fret not… it will be over. Soon enough."

In honesty, Nicola really had to stop herself from making a loud "awww" noise as she watched this angel treat a tiny injured kitten. How did he get here in the first place? Shouldn't he be with the rest of his buddies? She honestly never thought one of them would ever fall so low as to hide in a sewer of all places. Unless there was no other option. He must've gotten lost or something.. She thinks, almost snickering at how similar to hers this situation was.

To make no mistake, she didn't want to approach the angel, especially after what she'd seen during the apocalypse - most of them didn't give two shits about what happen to her race - and so Nicola decided, even if slightly disappointed that it wasn't another human survivor or someone looking for her like she previously assumed, to go away and leave him be with his kitten. The angels the apocalypse has shown to her were hardly the kind and thoroughly good creatures the image of she grew up with.. But then, nature decided to play a cruel prank on her and a horrifyingly loud sound of her stomach rumbling was carried over the immediate vicinity.

Nicola cursed inwardly at her stupid stomach - really, she would've eaten that sandwich but the smell of the server was very unappetizing - when the angel quickly looked up before gently placing the cat down on a piece of folded cloth and snapping his fingers to produce a small wisp of normal, white light. Now, his face wasn't obscured by the shadow of his hood. It was just like a face of a human, especially with all the grime smeared over it, just more… how to describe it? Features were more apparent, simultaneously sharp and smooth. Like those of a sculpture. Almost overly perfect. However, he looked ill, emaciated with his cheeks collapsed like this and sunken eyes, seemingly too large for his head. His eyes… brilliant white with faint silvery pupils, glowing like two wisps, opened wide in an absolutely blank, emotionless stare, not unlike that of a man in feverish delirium. How long had he been down here?

"Who.. who's there..?"

His lips barely moved as he spoke, his wide eyes darted around in panic as he searched for intruders. Not that she could blame him. Her stomach sounded like a starving demon and as far as she's concerned, his kind isn't really fond of those.. The angel looked a little like a terrified, wounded animal that had been cornered by predators with no apparent way out. It was… sad somehow. Since she'd already been heard, Nicola carefully stepped out of her hiding spot. The reaction she got however, was far different from what she's been expecting. The angel gasped, his wings shot up like two enormous flags as he lifted his hands. Green magic crackled along his slender fingers with most of the nails broken and bloodied as she froze where she stood.

"G- get away! Back off, foul creature!"

He stuttered but didn't attack just yet. Swallowing a lump of fear Nicola forced herself to very, very slowly and carefully take a few steps closer to enter the illuminated area around the scared angel to make him realise this is a misunderstanding and she means no harm. She even left her gun on the floor not to make him feel threatened and kept her hands up, palms forward where he could see them. He squinted but this hollow look in his eyes remained. Disturbing… Even more so when he started to mutter nervously to himself, rubbing his eyebrows with his thumb.

"No… not a demon, nor an angel, a human perhaps…? Yes, yes… has to be… But that's not possible.. They're… they're all gone. Dead, killed, stone dead… Who is this and what do you want? Your tricks won't work on me.."

"I- I'm not trying to trick you, I swear! I am a human. I'm Nicola.."

She assures the angel, hoping that giving him her name will make him feel a little less threatened. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past Nicola's lips when the magic in his hands faded as he curiously - a little like a small, inquisitive puppy - tilted his head to the left.

"Nic… ola…"

He breathed, mulling over her name, testing it on his tongue but his wings still remained aggressively flared above his head. The kitten meowed again, too weak to stand up from the bedding the angel made for it. He seemed to calm down a bit as he glanced down at it and with a flick of his finger made the animal lazily blink before it curled into a ball and immediately fell asleep. The wound on its back wasn't so large anymore and it wasn't bleeding so the black fluff with white feet and collar wasn't in any immediate danger. Angel's attention shifted back to her. But Nicola was the first one to speak.

"Who are you? How'd you get down here?

"Don't know… Human… a human. How did you get in my study? You really shouldn't be here. What is it you want from me? I'm working on improving my shards…"

"I-... Wait, your what ?"

Nicola's face scrunched up in confusion. Get in where? Working on improving his what??

"No, this isn't right… they need more energy…"

At this point she had absolutely no idea what the angel was rambling on about but she could clearly see he was completely out of his mind. Frankly speaking, she wasn't actually sure if he knows what he's babbling either.. There was only one thing that came to her mind when he spoke of shards and so she dug into her pocket, trying to find the one she'd been carrying with her just in case as he clutched at his head, tangling his fingers into his hair under his hood…

"It worked… I did it, I can… but it hurts… Creator, how it hurts… Cold.. so cold…"

His voice was starting to break as his unsteady breathing turned into something akin to sobbing but no tears were shed and he started to rock back and forth, still muttering something unintelligible. Something in Nicola's gut squirmed - or maybe it was the hunger again - as she looked at the scrawny angel mercifully. Whatever happened to him, it must've been horrible. It takes a very traumatic experience to bring a human to such a state but an angel is a different story. Seeing anyone like this saddened her. Finally, her fingers found what they were searching for and she extracted a small healing shard from her vest.

"You mean like…"

At the gentle, green glow the shard was emitting, the angel looked up astonished and let his mouth fall open. He stopped shaking and grasping his head.

"Yes… yes, my shard. I need… My blade. Where's my blade? Who…? My name? My name… I remember, I swear."

This talk of a blade was mildly unsettling to say the least but something in her chest twisted with pity and all fear left her. A little more bravely, Nicola approached the murmuring angel who attempted to scratch something out on the floor beside his knee but only successfully broke one of his nails again and hissed quietly. What happened to you, you poor thing? When she crouched next to him, he stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost when she realised he isn't looking into her eyes anymore. But at her forehead.

"You're… injured…"

He stated as matter of factly. Oh. Right. That was true. It barely hurt anymore though… and wasn't even bleeding. She's certainly had much worse. It will heal on its own in no time.

"Let me just-"

Suddenly he leaned forward to grab at her, making her heart leap up to her throat as she cried out in fear and jumped away from him. Instinctively, Nicola booked it for the tunnel she came from when she heard a heavy thud and a pained groan behind her.. It was her good hearted nature what ultimately made her stop in her tracks and look over her shoulder. To see the angel on the floor, weakly propping himself on his elbows and breathing heavily. He was very weakened. It's unclear how long he'd been down here but it certainly has taken its toll. Nicola looked out into the dark tunnel. Whatever awaited her in this darkness and out in the city surely isn't nicer than this poor sod behind her. She wasn't even sure if he actually meant to hurt her or not. It was a reflex. Then she turned to look back at the angel shivering on the wet floor.. Her throat tightened. God, she couldn't just leave it like this, could she?

"H- hey… are- are you okay?"

Nicola approaches the angel warily and squats before him as he lifts his head to look at her. And in his eyes she sees pain. Horrible, unimaginable pain, somewhere deep within, that made his crusted lips tremble. Such a sight would be enough to break even the coldest hearts. And definitely more than enough to break hers. He eyes her hands when she hesitantly takes him by the arm - careful when she notices a rag stained with fresh blood above his left elbow - and tries to pull him up to his feet or at least to a sitting position but he doesn't recoil. He simply kept staring at her hands in bewilderment. To her surprise, he was much lighter than he looked, probably because of how thin he was, and she managed to do what she intended but she could see that his legs won't uphold his weight as meager as it is. The angel glanced at the cut on her head and once again, albeit far more cautiously, reached out towards it.

"I can… I can heal it. Just hold still.. It will take a second.."

And in spite of herself, Nicola gives him a chance this time. He extended two fingers and as their tips started to glow with green, he gently tapped against her damaged skin. It felt… odd. It wasn't painful but still strange. The edges of the wound grew numb and prickly as the patch of comforting warmth fell over her forehead. And what was even odder, the angel smiled slightly, whispering

"There… It is done.. I.. remember. Was it…? It was, wasn't it… Raphael?"

"Wh- what? What are you talking about, who's Raphael?"

Nicola asks, probing the new, thin scar that was now formed in place of the cut. He really did heal her. Curious. And it did take a second.. For a moment, his face scrunched up in confusion but only for this second before he brightened and some of the strange mist fell from his white eyes as he brought both of his hands up and repeatedly poked his chest with all of his fingers.

"Me.. Raphael is… it's me! And you…"

He extended one finger and aimed it at her head.

"You are Nicola. "

"Y- yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess…"

She hesitantly replies as the circumstances of this meeting weren't exactly "nice". In a dark, damp sewer filled with stench and corpses with a possible monster lurking nearby? Far from nice if someone would ask her.

"What.. huh. What is this place?"

Raphael unexpectedly asked, looking around with his large, white eyes, blinking in confusion. Nicola pulls a face, unsure how to tackle the odd angel.

"You… don't know? You've been living here."

"Have I? Hmmm.. Strange…"

He murmured thoughtfully, scratching at his white goatee also painted with blood that surely spilled from the cut on his lower lip. Then his face shifted into concern as he tried to pull himself up with a strained grunt, clutching at an old, but not healed yet, gash over his ribs.

"I… I have to get back.. they need me in the White City…"

As she was expecting, he collapsed back onto the floor with a tired sigh not even a second later. Where and what was the "White City" he spoke of, she had no idea. What she did know however, was that in his condition Raphael isn't going anywhere. Even if he managed to get up, she could bet her right hand that he would make ten steps at most before collapsing again. Nicola winces and tilts her head to the side.

"Pal, I don't think you're in shape for walking or flying right now.."

"No, I suppose not… they cannot see me like this. I cannot return.."

At this point she wasn't surprised that Raphael kept muttering to himself about things her human brain couldn't hope to comprehend. Nicola got long used to this however. Ever since the armageddon there were very few things she could understand. It wasn't a normal day if something new and weird didn't happen to her or one of her remaining friends. Any hostility the angel showed before has faded now, his wings folded back around him as he leaned over the sleeping kitten to continue treating it. The gentleness he did it with, the uncertain smile on his face were making Nicola's heart melt. Raphael didn't seem like his friends indeed. He was different somehow. Kinder, softer. Less aggressive. More fitting the image of a stereotypical angel. But also definitely not quite… right. Up in the head.

Oh, well. Who is totally normal these days, honestly?

She wants to chuckle to herself when something gives her a pause. A horrifyingly familiar sound coming from the tunnel behind her. Panting, scraping and growling. Inevitably getting closer and closer. Her heart plummets to her heels. This sound… she would recognise it everywhere. The sound that haunted her dreams ever since the demon tore her twin brother, Nicholas, to shreds. This demon.. a Goreclaw, as Ulthane called it. Whipping around, she just managed to spot the quadrupedal monster - the size of your average Caucasian Shepherd (which was still awfully large for its kind), with long, lashing tail and sharp fangs constantly bared in a disturbing grin - appear in the entrance, cutting off the only escape route.

It must've heard Nicola's startled scream and followed it all the way here, hoping for an easy prey. Her breath caught in her throat as she stands paralyzed by the blood-hungry glare of multiple red eyes. This ugly mug, covered in blood of her sibling was still fresh in her mind, keeping her absolutely petrified. Unable to do anything, she kicks herself for leaving her shotgun behind. Now it was resting between the clawed paws of the demon who screeched in excitement as it prepared to pounce at her. Though honestly, with how rigid her body turned, she doubts she'd be able to aim, not to mention pulling the trigger.

This is it. She thinks, feeling blood leave her face. I'm gonna die. After all she's been through.. Killed by a single Goreclaw, ripped apart in a stinking sewer like an ungrateful little shite. Ulthane did so much to rescue her from the claws of that Fallen and now all his efforts are going to go to waste.. Crying out in dismay, she shields herself from the oncoming attack with her arms and shuts her eyes.

Something shifted behind her as the demon jumped at her and… nothing happened. Opening her eyes, horrified and shocked, Nicola almost gags when she sees the Goreclaw standing before her and just… gawking with its jaw slack as though it got hit on the head with something heavy. Faint golden light running around its body like tiny veins didn't escape her attention. That's when she noticed that the demon was trying to move, straining with its own stiff muscles and growling. But couldn't. It was completely paralyzed. A quiet, barely audible thrumming filled the air around Nicola and she began to feel something strange. Something she could only describe as magic. The arcane static began to nip and the bite at her skin like miniscule locusts when a green haze enveloped the Goreclaw before her. The same light fell onto her back, laying her quivering shadow out at her feet. A realisation hit her.

Raphael. He's still there.

After the apocalypse, Nicola had no delusions that angels, even the kindest ones, are ever defenseless. Before she could turn to face the angel, her would-be killer suddenly let out a soul-rending shriek that yet again almost made her drop dead or simply puke out of pure fear. Freed from the paralysis, it fell to the floor, writhing, clawing at its own chest and screeching the most ungodly noise Nicola had ever heard. What's happening?! Absolutely petrified, she watched as the demon's skin seemed to dry and wrinkle as its eyes were nearly popping out of its skull. Life - and color - was frighteningly quickly seeping out of the demon as it squirmed in agony, wailing, unable to fight the power that got a hold of it.

All this looked like taken straight out of a horror movie. And Nicola, on the contrary to Nicholas, was never a fan of those… It all took merely a few seconds of unimaginable torment before the unfortunate Goreclaw wheezed and eventually fell still with its jaws opened and tongue lolled out, wide eyes dull and unblinking, and didn't move ever again. Dead. The memory of all those corpses she has found passed through her head. The Goreclaw looked just like them… Afraid to move a muscle, she stared at the light that moved away from the dead demon, following its movement to the sight that made her back up aghast.

Raphael. The same seemingly gentle angel who healed a small, hurt animal - who healed her - was suspended in midair, tattered robes and disheveled hair billowing, with his wings flared and bristled. This soft smile was replaced by an absolute lack of any expression whatsoever as his wide eyes burned with the whitest white of unbridled anger she'd ever seen. Green streaks of magic - the same green she found so soothing before, now ominous and frightening - bathing the surroundings in brightness, were swirling around his arms, hands with fingers curled into vicious claws. For this moment he looked much stronger, a little younger… and far more dangerous than he seemed before.

"As long as I live.. I shall not stand suffering !"

Raphael bellowed at the corpse at her feet even though it was long dead and already turning cold, caring very little about how horrified she was. He didn't even seem to care how much suffering the demon had experienced before it blessedly lost its hold on life. Not that Nicola thought it didn't deserve that but still it was… pretty gruesome.. Raphael's wounded and weakened body absorbed the life-force drained from the demon and only then did he slowly descend onto the floor and landed on his feet, breathing out with relief. The magic gradually dissipated along with the sharp prickling sensation until only the tiny golden wisp hovering next to Raphael's head remained. His wings fell into their place against his back, this furious light faded out of his bright eyes before he turned to Nicola to shoot her a disarming, awkward smile as though nothing had happened at all. This tiny smile was hardly comforting.. Quite the opposite in fact. It chilled her to the bone like the coldest winter wind.

Oh fuck.

Swallowing thickly, Nicola looked up at Raphael, now standing on his own legs, clearly revitalized by the stolen energy, and felt a little fearful tear roll down her face. Then she shifted her gaze to the demon. Then back to Raphael, who seemed so small and weak before but stood at least two, maybe three feet taller than Nicola - her head reached the bottom of his sternum. I was wrong. She realises with a pang of panic, feeling a little sick in the stomach at the mere thought that this kind healer was as capable of killing her where she stood as any demon up above her head. All he had to do was flick his wrist and look at her and she wouldn't have been able to do a thing to defend herself. It suddenly made sense. There was no sewer monster down here. No beast that would threaten her. No foul creature that could suck the blood from her body and leave ber as a mummified corpse. All this death, all these bodies… The horrifying monster Nicola was expecting to find...

It was him.

--------------------------------------------------

So yeah. That was the chapter I. I'll try to make more but I don't promise anything XD

The moral of this story? Don't piss off/spook angel sorcerers. Especially the crazy ones.

Also, the art at the end was once again inspired by @coloredgravity 's rendition of Raphael (I drew this mostly out of memory 😂). In addition I gave him a symbol of virtue from Darkest Dungeon over his head. He's mad, true. But he still tries to hold it together :3

[sweeeeeeeeeeets]

Thomas falls into a coma (for 2 weeks) and wakes up with temporary memory loss. He gains his memory back and when he does the one thing that sticks to his mind is the fight though, they still love each other deeply and make up. - prompt from a friend (their reasoning : cause they need more.)

Did not follow the prompt right, took more inspiration then anything. This has been in my drafts forever and I finally wrote in the past hour, maybe not as good as the first one, but eh. I enjoy it. Hope you all like it.

Warnings:

- mentions of sucide

- mentions of depression

- pills induced sleep

- excessive drug use / over dose

- wild ride of emotions

- self blame

- lack of hygiene

- insecure

- no editing

- Grammer mistakes

You have been warned.

-By going past this, you have made the decision that you are alright with the warnings and I cannot be held reliable.-

I Missed Him.

I missed him, it's been about 2 weeks later, I was sitting in my room alone, mourning my late boyfriend. He died, he...he died, I hadn't been there to do anything, hands shaky, hair unbrushed....some would say I fell down the rabbit hole of depression. I didn't even care enough to take care of myself and do proper hygiene.

I haven't touched my phone, nor have I gotten up and left my room. My parents have been kind enough to leave food at the door for me when meals came around...how am I meant to handle his death? He...I love him.. no, I loved him...i could barely do anything without being reminded of him.

Being huddled up in his hoodie was far worse, his smell fading into oblivion...the hoodie while his, lost what was left of him... Ive been writing letter after letter, been reading book after book, looking through photo after photo. Trying to calm myself down from this place..

Letters to him, overflowing with all my emotions...I loved him, so why did he have to be taken away? No matter how hard I try to push it away, the thought of joining him are strong...I can't help but think 'What is life without him by my side?'...

That night, I took the pills my mom got me, my lack of sleep the past few nights have been getting to me. They were just meant to make you sleepy...but, take too much and it would be bad like all other drugs... And that intrusive voice... The one that tells me the worst things...Just had to spur up now.

I listened to it, all the mean things it had to say. With less hesitation then I should've had...I took far too many more then I should've. One last time, I looked at the photos, and wrote one last letter...addressed to everyone in my life I thought was important enough to mention.

Heading to bed, I closed my eyes for what I thought would be the last time.

Beep

Beep-beep

The smell of bleach, and that distinct beep of a heart rate monitor was all I heard...the smell of sickness and death mixing with the bleach...the distinct smell of the hospital.

Before I could open my eyes...I realized I felt arms around my waist.. thin, warm, familiar arms...it-it was him...please tell me it was. B-but that can't be.

"Love? I don't know if you can hear me, but, im right here, i promise everything will be ok, i love you" that was his voice, my eyes snapped open and I went to turn around and face him...while my muscles are weak, I still turned to face him, it hurt, and I was slow, but I finally saw him.

"Your alive" I exclaimed, my voice scratchy, and hoarse from lack of use. "I am, and when I woke up, you were here, you've been here a month, I heard all the commotion...they said you had too much of some substance, I dont remember what, in your system, did you...overdose? Why would you do that?" As he spoke, I could hear the softness...but also the slight panic and the self doubt...he was probably thinking I overdosed because of him...and while hes not wrong...i almost wish I didn't now.

"I-ive been here a month? It feels like ive only been in the darkness of my subconscious for a few minutes" I responded, trying to ignore the last half of what he said.

As he grabbed my cheeks, I saw it then, the close to break down of crying look in his eyes... I tried to give him a small smile "Hey...hey, it's ok...im ok, are you ok...I thought you were..dead." I whispered, and he gave a small nod.

Over the course of getting back into tip top shape with him, we both apologized profusely, confessed all our feelings, explained the stories... everything.

A new development I had learnt since waking up though, was...that I felt jealousy, and was so insecure about our relationship that when even the nurse talked to him I would think he would leave me.

Losing him once, left a heavy weight in my heart, and a terrible voice in the back of my head. I love, and trust him...but...who would still want to be with me when I have tried to take the easy way out? When the last thing I said to him before his supposed death wasn't even I love you. We had an argument, and I hadn't said I love you, and he was gone.

Who would want to be with me, when I look sickly and didnt have much strength after a month of sleeping? Why would this amazing boy ever want to stay with me?

Soon, I found myself discharged and cuddled up in bed with him. Whispering sweet murmurs...I had him back, the love of my life, the boy I loved, back in my arms. I lied there, comforted by his embrace, smiling as I fell to sleep...I truly had thought he was gone. All I could of thought during that time was 'I missed him'.

Prompt :

insert title for story

insert very short love story where at the end, the love interest dies a tragic death (like *insert love intrest name* was crushed by a truck taking a turn. {And then its over, like the stories done})

Warning/Facts (?) -> Names/Terms of endearment : babe, honey-boo (jokingly), 'my love' / Swearing (specifically the F word) used in a 'why do this?' type of way. / Sad story. / Short. / Is all in Mc (Sasha) pov.

Main Character (mc) -> Sasha Andrews

Love intrest -> Thomas Smith

Side Character -> Thomas Mother, slight mention of Sasha's parents.

Side note -> please dont be offended if you have those names, I just came up with 'em on the spot. And, the story isn't exactly like the prompt, I wrote that prompt like a month ago, and I decided to write this now. The prompt jas been in my drafts for awhile.

NONE OF THIS IS EDITED!

By continuing, you know what you are getting into.

Why didn't I say I love you?

'Why didn't I say I love you?' I thought, looking at the dozens of photos of me and my boyfriend. We had just gotten into such a big fight, and amist all that rage, I stormed out of the apartment. Im lucky my parents live by and have left my room alone. The anger has finally bubbled down, its been hours anyways. But....all I feel is guilt. Even when me and Thomas fight, we always say 'I love you' before we leave....he had yelled it, so why didn't I yell it back? Ugh, I can feel the lump in my throat, the growing urge to break down crying. Why didn't I just say it? Why was I so angry? He hasn't contacted me since, and I dont feel it is my place to contact him. Its been hours, maybe this is our last fight? No. Dont be silly, you love him, and he loves you. It's going to work itself out in the end. Dont worry.

Heh, dont worry, dont worry? Ive been repeating that silly line too myself for the past week, oh, how I miss the warmth of our sleepy cuddles, the small talks, the silent dinners in each others comforting presences. I miss him, my love, I miss how we would lay in bed, have silly banter, and just, cuddle till we couldn't hold our eyes open anymore, till our brains finally said thats enough. Oh, how I miss Thomas.

I finally broke down crying, its around 2 am, maybe I should text him? But, no. I cant, its not my place....but, he also deserves an apology. I type it up, hoping the paragraph was good, before realizing, a call would be better, Deleting the paragraph, my finger going up to hover over the call button, one second of hesitation, before pressing down and calling him. It rung three times, three rings Ill never forget what happened next.

The call started, I wait for the hello, signifying that he was on the other end....."Hello? Im sorry, but if your calling Thomas, hes busy right now" a female voice, almost shaky replied, I recognized it to be his mother's voice, I quickly responded, hoping she wont hang up before I get the chance to speak. "Is he ok? Are you ok?" I was concerned for both of them, one, my boyfriend has always picked up the phone, and two, his mothers voice was so shaky, almost like she has been or is crying. "No, and no. Thomas- he- he is in the hospital right now, hes.....hes not going to make it." It took me a full minute to comprehend what I was being told, before I knew it, tears were already rushing down my cheeks "w-what happened?" I said, trying not to sound like I was crying, trying to stay strong. The voice on the other end, hesitated for a minute, the silence growing, before it was broken, and she had said "He had been in a car accident, fatal." I couldn't take it anymore, letting out a broken sob, trying to calm down. The phone hangs up, his mother must've decided the conversation wasn't going anywhere with the way things were going.

I drop my phone on the bed, crying as I sink to my knees. Hes gone? Hes gone? That cant be true.....but it is, isn't it? I cant deny the facts....some memories flashing through my vision. We were cuddling, his arms around my waist, we were having a small chat. "My love, we both know I make the better pancakes, you can't deny that." And I had responded with a playful chuckle "uh-huh, well, sorry Honey-boo, your wrong." And it all began. All the memories flooding my brain, tears rolling down my cheeks, soaking the fabric of my top. "Why did you have to take him away? What the Fuck did he do? He didn't do anything to deserve this........" I said angrily, before continuing on, a sadder tone, one that was softer "Why didnt I say I love you?"

Written by me. {April/11/2024}

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Perfect Mess

This fic is based off chapter thirteen of @matchacakesareforfoxes fic Domesticity: The Random Files

I love their fic and if you haven't already, please go read it and the chapter this fic was inspired by. It was a privilege to write your and I just hope I managed to do it justice @matchacakesareforfoxes

In this fic the reader makes a mess

__________

You had tried to do this before, but you hadn't tried to do so in this place. In speaking about this place, you meant in the warmth and familiarity of his kitchen; whose tiles, corners, and fascinating collection of mugs were almost known by name; of the items which hadn't been given a name, they still had a purpose but weren't as remembered or remarkable. You've cooked other things here, like lunches and dinners, and breakfast on rare occasions, but baking here had been avoided. It hadn't been because Zeta-7s kitchen was lacking. On the contrary, it was a delightful space and he had all manner of ingredients; you weren't in want of possibilities or lacking imagination, but you held a reluctance.

Talent, for a better word, was not what you had when it came to sweets. It wasn't an art like cooking, but a culinary science which you knew Zeta-7 had studied down to the smallest degree. Still, you were going to try. Oh, but trying was different than doing.

You leaned towards an upper shelf for the bottle of good vanilla and found you couldn't reach. If this hadn't been as much of a surprise as you wanted it to be, you would've accepted his assistance. You would've admired the outstretched arm which would've found no challenge in grabbing the amber bottle; filled with the essence which forever permeated a few of his favorite sweaters and at times was detected on his skin. Yet, those were sentiments which could flourish on another occasion, because you were going to do this on your own.

____________

Perhaps you should've prayed instead.

The song McArthur Park came to mind when you stepped on the eggshells which missed the trash can. When the baking soda spilled all over the counter you couldn't recall, and you realized you were dusted with flour as though you had applied it like an after shower perfume; you thought maybe you should've quit. Yet, despite losing the recipe you had pinned on Pinterest and the ungodly amount of sugar which had been used, the batter was mixed together and placed in the oven. Great, that was done but now there was the mess. Oh man, where to begin.

Glancing at yourself, you thought maybe you should change, but you'd have to swing by your house to do so. Decisions, decisions; it just felt like too much work. During the span of time when you had wondered as to what you should do, the scent of burning passed your nose. That part though was simple to figure out; the oven was on fire. Wait……the Oven was ON FIRE?!

“RICK!”

Wherever he had been in the house hadn't mattered, for not only did he rush in, but his three robot clones had as well. If you hadn't been so panicked, you might've wondered why they hadn't joined in past cuddle sessions. Zeta-7 wasted no time when he scooped you up in his arms while clones one and two extinguished the fire. "Are y-y-you okay?"

"I'm um… I'm fine, but I'm not sure about the oven."

Clone three removed the burned contents of what would've been cookies, and determined that nothing had been damaged, but it would take a while to clean. Seeing that his robots had it under control, Zeta-7 eased you down onto the couch not caring if you would leave a mess and inspected you until he was satisfied that you hadn't injured yourself. "Ricky, I told you I was fine."

"Y-you're right, I'm s-sorry."

"No," you sighed; disheartened but all the more so embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I can't believe this all happened. I should've asked where the fire extinguisher was first. That, or bought some baking skills at Bed Bath and Beyond. I'm pretty sure you can find it in the abyss of the Beyond section."

Now that death was not imminent, you were a jumbled mess and just babbled as though it would make things better or possibly make sense. Zeta-7 for his part studied you, and the more he did, the more you wished you could crawl under a rock. You deserved to be yelled at, scolded, or anything where you would be punished for daring to believe you could keep up with this man skills. And when he opened his mouth to speak, you thought you were in for it, but instead, he laughed; the kind which spoke of his relief; you hadn't quite expected that reaction. You were partly confused, partly annoyed that he hadn't been upset when he should've been, but your pouting only encouraged his amusement; his laughter filling the house with this happy noise.

When he was like this, you couldn't stand how much you loved him; how you were won over, and enamored by the radiance he exuded easily; all the lines around his eyes and mouth prominent but reassuring of his happiness. Soon enough, having watched Rick collapse over himself with mirth, inspired giggles of your own to bubble forth. It would be a few minutes when either of you was rational; at least enough to explain what had transpired a half-hour before.

You wanted to bake cookies and surprise Rick while he was working. That was it; just bake cookies then surprise Rick with said cookies; possibly earn a few brownie points; any points for that matter, but no, the Baking Gods were against such aspirations for you evidently. Rick for his part, placed his hands lightly on your shoulders and gave them a squeeze, leaning over enough so you both would be eye to eye. “I don't think any Gods had a hand in this, I think y-your power is just too great for baking cookies.”

You tried not to, but you couldn't help it and began another fit of laughter with Rick not far behind. "I don't think I have any powers worth mentioning, but they are weak against chocolate. As well as other things."

The laugh which had been ready to escape him seemed to die as he took a glance at your lips, then away as though whatever thought sprang up in his head wasn't worth elaborating further. You really wished he would've because then you could've elaborated on a thought of your own.

__________

When you two had found your composure, you set about cleaning up the kitchen together; hopefully, it would be easier now that you had gotten the taste of pyromania out of your system. “Rick, you don't have to stay here. I can clean it up on my own.”

Zeta-7 wouldn't hear of it and simply smiled. "It's okay. Besides, it's no fun cleaning up th-the dishes by yourself.”

You blew a raspberry at him, petulant. "Are you sure? Or is spontaneous combustion also a worry for you?"

"N-no not at all."

“You just don't want me to be in here by myself anymore, huh?” you teased; flashing him a wink.

Confusion; the silent inquisition which occurred when you danced in between the barrier of enigmatic and odd. The questions which he had never came up, for the confusion melted into something like a smirk as he flicked some suds on your nose with the dish sponge. With mock surprise, you grabbed a spoon from the soapy water and placed it under the faucet; effectively splashing him and also yourself. "That did not go as I planned it."

Rick shook his head at you, but instead of responding he dipped his hands in the water and splashed you with more soapy dishwater; you responding in like kind; splashing each other and getting water all over the floor and yourselves; completely soaked in a matter of minutes. You didn't want to know how much worse you must've looked. However, when you calmed a little from your hysterics, you realized he had stopped laughing; lost to his ruminations. You wondered if you had pushed him too far, or if he was upset about the wet floor, but what followed was not what you had expected.

He was staring at you past his drenched bangs, his electric blues immovable in their intensity; this in itself was not uncommon, but it gave him this otherworldly quality; as though they would glow in the dark if the lights went out. The front of his sweater clung to him; the outline of his lean muscles impossible to ignore. You felt warmth in your cheeks; warmer yet when the hand which had been holding a sponge earlier, came up to cup your cheek and an arm was slipped about your waist. "Rick, I'm a mess. You don't…you wouldn't want to..."

"Gosh, y-you're so beautiful." he interrupted.

"What? No," you retorted, trying to pull away from his grasp as though you didn't deserve it. "not like this. I'm a mess and the dishes still need to be washed. If anything, I'm a disaster."

Tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, he softened. "Y-you're not a disaster."

"Yes, I am. I disrupted your work, almost burned down the house and dirtied your cute sweater."

"Gosh, it was only a-a happy accident."

"In what way?" you wondered.

"I-I got to see you. I don't know when I-I would've stepped out of the garage. Possibly whenever I finished working on my latest invention, but I should've been here instead. We could've baked together."

"I didn't want to bother you. You had your welding helmet on and all those processor chips. I wasn't sure if you were making a computer or a doomsday device, but you were busy. I know how important your work is to you."

"It is important but not as important as you. I'm sorry about that. I - an idea had struck me and I was dying t-t-to get started, but it seems I wouldn't have been able t-t-to get that far anyway since I didn't have all the parts required. This means I-I did have time."

"I didn't know. I just wanted to make you happy with a sweet surprise."

"Gee, I'm happy having you here. That alone is enough. I got t-t-to see a whole new side to you that I haven't seen before. I don't - I'm not talking about the way you're dressed, but unlike those other times we've cooked together, I feel as though I saw the real you. You don't - I know how you feel when it comes t-t-to baking and how frustrating you find it, but finding you there amongst that mess, wearing an apron that's a-a little too big for you and the flour on your cheeks, why it was…"

"A mess." you frowned.

"An adorable mess; a beautiful mess; a-a perfect mess."

"Dear, I don't think those words go together."

"I guess they don't, but I meant it when I said I was glad t-t-to see you're alright, and here all in one piece. That's all I could ask for. I thought an intruder had managed t-to get into the house, or that one of the security bots had malfunctioned, which was why I unleashed my robot clones, but seeing that it was simply a-a cooking accident was the best thing I could've seen because it meant that I-I hadn't lost you."

The hand which had cupped your cheek slipped itself into your hair and smoothed it down, gently, and with purpose. The seriousness which you had seen in his eyes earlier had returned, and the arm around your waist tightened. "Rick," you softened. "it'll take more than burned cookies to take me away from you."

"Really?" he brightened.

"Of course."

Looking at you, in that funny, darling way as he did from time to time, he pressed a kiss upon your temple and lingered there; finding comfort in the closeness. You rubbed his back, and told him it was okay; that you were okay and that he didn't need to worry. Though, in reality, you realized that you needed to be more diligent next time you decided to bake. However, knowing that he had your back if you put yourself in danger again was comforting in its own right.

And when it seemed that he had been comforted enough, he pulled away a little, only to return with an unknown confidence and captured your mouth in a soft kiss; his insistence winning you over, and made you forget what it was either of you was supposed to do; all there being was you, him, and the fading world. Entranced, you seemed to mold into him, and melted with every second that passed. If you hadn't needed to breathe, there wouldn't have been any force in this universe that could've made you two part. Yet, part you would, and when he pulled away, you wondered. "What about the dishes?"

Whether he was aware of it or it was done unconsciously Zeta-7 chased after your retreating mouth. With cheeks aflame, he answered before kissing you again. "The dishes can ugh - can wait."

Fin

[ibangtanthings]

Baby

Gif_@taegilly

Chapter 7

Thanks for being so patient! I rewrote this chapter so many times and I am still not satisfied with it! I know it’s been a minute so I decided to put it out. It wasn’t so much as second guessing myself but more of me wanting to make it as perfect as possible. I realized that there is no such thing as perfection and that I was just being to hard on myself. A part of me wants to rewrite it over and over again until I am satisfied but you have waited long enough so thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

________________

You woke up in the very same cellar where Namjoon had beaten the life out of Yoongi.

You weren't dangling from the ceiling like he had been though.

Instead you were on a massage table of some sort, lying down on your stomach. The entire bed was inclined upwards.

Your legs and hands were bound, making movement impossible except for the small shake of your body as you tested out how trapped you were.

Yoongi's blood stained the concrete floor.

A few days ago you might have freaked out but at this point how much worse could it get?...You kept asking yourself that question.

The only thing you could do was look left and right but it was no use. It put a strain on your neck after a while.

Jungkook walked in about half an hour later. He held a small toolbox in his hands that he set on a nearby table.

"Take this." He held a small pill to your lips and you kept your lips shut.

He pulled your hair. "Take it or I'll force you to."

You still refused to open your mouth.

Kill me then, you silently pleaded in your mind.

He just smiled and nodded. "Fine."

That smile was so sinister yet his eyes were so innocent. His demeanor was so different from Jimin.

Jungkook radiated a sense of evil just like Namjoon.

He left and came back with a rolling stool, a medical facemask, sterile gloves, and a bottle of alcohol.

Fuck, you thought.

He was going to hurt you. Was Hoseok not available at the moment?

He quickly started setting up whatever it was that he was preparing for.

The whole time he was behind you, making it difficult to see exactly what he was doing. Your nerves began to build as you heard metal ringing against metal.

Then you heard buzzing.

You stomach turned from the anxiety.

He rolled towards the front of the table. You could see him face to face now.

In his hand was a contraption that you couldn't believe he held. You caught only a glimpse.

You hoped you were mistaken but it seemed so familiar based on what you've seen before.

It looked like a tattoo needle. It was unmistakably a tattoo needle.

Jungkook brought out two other straps and began tying your head down against the pillow so that you were only looking at the right side of the room, away from the door.

"What are you doing? You're not seriously going to..." You asked with a shaky voice.

Your arms fought against the restraints uselessly.

"Just don't move." He said rolling over a small tray with all his supplies on it.

The needle buzzed a few more times before he set it down and began cutting the back of your shirt with scissors.

"Jungkook, what are you doing?" You began freaking out, pulling on the restraints however you could. "Get me out of these things. What are you doing?!"

"Don't move." He said sternly.

The scissors cut your bra clasp and he threw alcohol all over your bare back.

"Jungkook, please. Let me go. Don't touch me! Don't do this." You begged.

"I said don't move!" He yelled, standing up and you swore he was going to hit you but he didn't. You just shut your eyes and cried.

"I told you to take the fucking pill. You chose not to so now you're going to stay awake for all of this."

"No," you sobbed. "Tell Namjoon I'll do any, just please don't touch me with that thing."

Once the needle touched your skin there was no going back. You would always and forever have a mark that reminded you of this terrible experience. You would always belong to them.

Jungkook could care less about your pleas. The needle piercing your skin was painful and your body jerked in surprise.

He managed to move the needle away quickly before making another mark, but he was upset.

"Okay fine. I'll do the other one." He said coming face to face with you.

He pulled your bottom lip down and out, and you screamed as best as you could but no one could stop him. No one would save you.

Despite the strap he put around your head, he still pinned your head down in place with his elbow while his other hand carefully scarred the inside of your lip.

You should've taken the pill when he said to.

In that moment, you had no hatred for Jungkook. Only for Namjoon whom you wanted to murder more than ever. You hated him with all your being. The next time you saw him, you wanted to hurt him in any way possible.

It was the hardest form of torture you had so far. Jungkook, annoyed with your screams and cries, continually pressed on your head with so much pressure from his elbow.

After only a few minutes, you passed out and who knows how long after you woke up to Jungkook working on your back.

"Please stop." You wept uselessly.

Jungkook leaned on your ribs or dug his elbow into your spine each time you bothered him with your begging.

You spent days in that cellar. He would leave and a guard would come in just to let you eat, and use the restroom.

That was at most only a couple of hours of freedom in the cellar, sitting down on the floor without anything to do but cry. There wasn't a mirror in sight to see the damage Jungkook had done. Only the ache of your lip and the burning of the skin on your back reminded you of the torture that was yet to finish.

Jungkook would walk back inside and you would cower away from him, running into a corner and sinking to the floor. He always grabbed you by the hair and by the arm with so much force and you fought against him without causing him any sort of damage.

He on the on the hand could easily toss you around or into the table, hurting your side and restraining you again and again so easily.

Sometimes you were awoken by the pain of the needle piercing your skin with the ink. Jungkook was focused on making the back tattoo perfect.

"It's done." He said exhaling and stretching his neck.

He gave you the daily rinse for your mouth and the pain  was a dull ache that you had gotten used to. It hurt to eat but you weren't eating much anyways.

His hands rubbed an ointment over your back and he placed a wrap over the entirety of the skin.

It was surely a large piece that you had yet to see. All he said about it was that he only used one color.

Red.

Nonetheless, you felt completely powerless. What's done is done. There was no moving on from this. Something felt different inside. Something felt emotionless and dead.

Jungkook finally took you to his room. He walked you straight into the bathroom.

He wanted you ready for bed in an hour. The clothes he gave you were a silky burgundy nightgown that would surely expose your back, along with matching underwear.

Everything ached as you walked and turned about in the mirror.

In another world, you would have complimented the art on your back. The tiger growling back at you looked so real even in just one color. The shades of red were perfectly cool against your skin tone.

What scared you was your bottom lip. You didn't know what he wrote but it was so obviously wasn't it?

Exposing your inner bottom lip, you read the four letters Namjoon never wanted you to forget. He marked you as her for life. There was no escaping her anymore. If somehow, you made it out of here alive, she would always be there. Baby.

The world swayed for a second and you almost fainted. The headache you felt wasn't going away anytime soon.

Why was he so rough?

Surely you had a slight concussion or something from all the things that occurred since the party.

You managed to run a bath.

Later, he walked in again. You didn't even turn to look at him, your body was frozen the whole time.

He paused before approaching you and when he spoke, you heard nothing for a few moments.

It wasn't until he touched you that you gasped and reacted.

You came back to reality and met his eyes.

Goosebumps formed all over your skin as you recalled what you were doing.

You hugged your knees and looked away from him.

He watched the skin on your back, the plastic wrapping keeping your tattoo from coming into contact with the water.

"My hair. I need to wash my hair." You said blankly.

He turned one of the knobs and the shower head began spewing out a rainfall of droplets. He closed the shower curtains around you but he remained in the bathroom.

From the blurred out colors of the shower curtains you could make out that he took a seat by the sink. He was facing the mirror.

You quickly finished washing up.

"Come on." He said helping you out, this time letting his eyes wander all over your body.

You didn't care. He had already violated you enough. It felt dehumanizing to say the least. Your body wasn't your own anymore. It belonged to her.

"You need more ointment so that it heals properly." He said.

His voice was gentler now.

You got dressed in the silky night gown. Your back was now fully exposed and you could see the tattoo in the reflection of the mirror as you combed your hair.

He peeled off the wrapping from your back and spread more cream on his masterpiece.

"Let me see the other one." Jungkook said.

You looked at his reflection. His eyes just stared right back boldly.

The feeling of his arms wrapping around you and turning you to face him didn't seem real. He was being too gentle.

Even when he kissed you it didn't seem real, but it was only after that kiss when you realized he just wanted to see your lip tattoo.

He kissed you again before his finger slowly pulled your bottom lip down, exposing the piece that Namjoon requested.

He kissed you again and again, slowly warming you up.

He was so angry all the time compared to now.

That temper was an asset to Namjoon, as well a strength. You felt small in his arms. He could snap at any second.

Everything about him was too powerful. Everytime he grabbed your arm or pushed you aside, it was more strength than necessary. Now, it was as if the tattoos had changed how he treated you.

You couldn't kiss him back like you did with Yoongi or the rest of them. You didn't outright reject him either. The look his eyes gave you still scared you. Yet in a second they changed back to that pure and innocent gaze.

"I didn't want to tattoo your inner lip but Namjoon said to." He said apologetically. "But your back piece....You're perfect now."

"Don't say his name." You looked down and hot tears streamed down your cheeks .

"He is-"

"Where are your tattoos? Why don't you have any?" You asked, cutting him off.

Now you were furious. How come he had none of the markings he thought were so beautiful?

He stepped back and took off his shirt.

He had the very same tiger on his torso but in black. There were more images surrounding it but all his tattoos could be hidden underneath a shirt.

"Why?" You asked, dejected. "Why can't I hide mine?"

He stepped closer again and held your face in his hand. "Why would you want to? You look beautiful."

You pushed him away and left. The only place you could go to was his bed.

He wasn't bothered by your weeping anymore. In fact, when you woke up you saw that he had tucked you in.

How different he was now that you were marked. You sat up and looked at the art all around his room. It was a mess of drawings and paintings all fighting for space on his walls and ceiling. Everything was dark but you wondered how you didn't notice all of it as you entered the last night.

When you looked at him, he was sound asleep. His eyes were relaxed. He seemed at peace.

How could he possibly say that he didn't want to do this?

Clearly, he liked the new you.

You didn't feel like you anymore.

For the next few days you were in a daze. You didn't feel like speaking or eating much. A blank expression adorned your face all the time and you refused to make eye contact with anyone.

When Namjoon came in to check on you, it didn't matter. He was just another person trying to get you to speak or to look at them.

He left after a few minutes of failing to get a reaction from you.

Jungkook sat in front of you and just stared, suspiciously.

He wiped a tear you didn't know had fallen down your cheek.

You moved away from him and crawled back into bed, shutting your eyes as if that could bring you far away from this world.

__a few days later_

"Free?" You repeated.

It was an unfamiliar term now. Like a brand new word that he just uttered and made no sense.

"You can leave. I'm giving you your freedom. Why are you questioning it?" Namjoon asked.

You were speechless. All of that time, all of that pain, everything.

It was all for nothing.

It was impossible to form a response. It was impossible to process what he was saying.

"Take her to pack her bags. Then drive her to the city." He told the guards.

His expression was hard and he didn't make eye contact. He only looked at the ground.

He would still protect you wouldn't he?

You were wanted by the authorities and you had nothing.

Stunned, you couldn't speak or ask him anything. The words wouldn't form.

Namjoon fixed his suit and his watch, then left the room leaving you feeling hallow and confused.

The guards didn't touch you anymore. Instead of grabbing you by the arms they just extended their hands out towards the door.

You looked back at Jungkook and you could tell that he had already known.

"Go." He said, amused at your loss for words and inability to take any steps forwards. He chuckled. "Or stay."

"I don't believe him." You whispered with so much fear now.

He held your face in his hands. "Don't question it." He smiled. "Just go, and if you want to, come back anytime."

"I can really go back home now?" You asked, beginning to process this.

"Anytime you're ready." He assured, giving you a little push towards the door. "Come on, go pack back your bags."

"What about the others? Do they know?"

"Stop asking questions and go while you can." He laughed.

How strange it was to see him so happy.

But he was right. It was pointless to think about them now. You were free and never coming back here again.

Within a few hours you were on the road. Nothing much seemed to have changed but still, it all seemed so new at first glance.

There were trees, restaurants, parks where children played, and museums.

You didn't know where they were taking you to but all you could think about was taking a walk around the city.

It was hard to think about what you would do now. Your mind kept going back to the others. Somehow it felt like a goodbye was missing.

But you smiled sometimes, knowing you were away from that place now. You were wearing normal clothes and normal shoes.

By now you guys had passed multiple cities. Hours passed and you fell asleep.

When you woke up, the car had pulled into a gas station. The smell of gasoline seemed brand new.

The guards were no where in site. The valve was still inserted into the car.

You looked into the convenience store attached to the gas station and couldn't make out their bodies or their faces.

Instead of waiting there, you entered the store and looked around for them. Still, they were no where to be seen.

The snacks had gotten your attention by now. It was a long trip without food. Only water.

As you browsed, you got hungrier and hungrier but you had no money.

Just then the television cut from commercial and the news came on.

"Later on tonight, an update on the murder case that has remained unsolved for months. Thanks to a recent tip, police are on the hunt now for the killer who has a tiger tattoo on their back, and it is all in red ink! A condeming piece of information that could have helped solve this case earlier. The murderer could be anywhere at this point. Stay tuned for more information on how you can earn substantial reward money for turning them in."

You couldn't breathe.

Once again you felt entrapped. The walk towards the front doors felt the like you were moving in slow motion.

The car was gone, only your duffel bag remained on the ground where the car had been.

Your heart dropped and it ached. How could he do this?

How could he throw you away like this? No where to run, no where to hide.

Not even a fake ID.

It was clear now that you no longer existed.

Only the murderer and Baby existed. Actually, they were both murderers.

Y/N was dead. She could never return. It never made more sense until then.

Namjoon broke you. He succeeded but you pissed him off just enough so that you were nothing to him anymore.

The others also pissed him off and that's why you didn't get to say goodbye.

This was the way he wanted to see you die. Perhaps he was too weak to kill you himself.