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dearestxiao · 10 months ago

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the color blue: neon [part 2] | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: the days until you finally meet your penpal has been ticking by so quickly, but with a new tutor, a clingy roommate, and a professor who seems to only want the worst for you, it's hard to keep track of time. WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT, yandere characters, creepy xiao is creepy (lots of potentially uncomfortable thoughts from his perspective), heavily implied stalking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub-con touching, student-teacher dynamic, age gap (reader is 21+ and zhongli is 27+, feel free to adjust as need be). let me know if I need to add anything! reader is gender neutral.

wc: 10.7k

author notes: I wanted to first say thank you for the wait, and I hope that everybody is able to enjoy the changes and edits I’ve made to the story. I also wanted to say thank you to the mutuals who had helped me create the original version of the story. it has been a long time since then, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re still active (OTZ), so I’m not sure if they would still like to be tagged but I am forever grateful to them. this is the last exposition heavy chapter, as well as my last read edit/re-upload of a chapter, so the next few chapters will be much meatier with new content!!! again, thank you so much for the wait. love you all! as always, reblogs are very appreciated if enjoyed and if possible!

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 1]

dark content. minors do not interact. do not repost/link.

from xiao's room, there's a perfect view of the town a bit away from campus that greets him everytime he steps inside. it's a gorgeous sight, which is something he could admit, even though he didn’t choose the place himself, one anyone would be grateful for. the town is bright and bustling even still, and it’s only now starting to dim down. it’s getting late into the night, with flashy lights and beautiful architecture and homey buildings, and so many people, people, people.

there are still families on an outing, and cute couples going on dates. shop owners sweeping around their store. he can see as the everyday salaryman walks back home, accompanying the students on their own way home from classes; he can see so many lives being lived from his isolated little tower.

and yet, on nights like these, no matter how enchanting the view, xiao usually prefers to keep his blinds tightly shutー out of sight, out of mind. jealousy is a vile thing, isn't it? it's nasty, tainting your view of the world, of the things you love. after the first few weeks after xiao had moved in, the view quickly lost the charm it once had. because at the end of the day, to him, the view only serves as a cruel reminder of just how alone xiao is and always has been.

it dangles around a painful reminder of the things xiao can never have. it's so close, yet so far out of reach.

but despite his usual bitterness, xiao doesn’t bother closing the blinds tonight, because tonight, he has hope, hope that he could one day be like the many walks of life he sees everyday from his apartment window. hope that he’ll have something worth wondering about.

xiao sits himself on his bed, the second biggest source of comfort in his life right now. for some reason, he feels awfully nervous. he knows why, but he can’t help but wish that awful feeling away. for a split second, he can’t help but wish he was as confident and fearless as... no. he won’t think like that, not right now, at least. he shakes away the thought. butterflies jitter all up and around his stomach as his shaky hands picks up his phone and dials numbers, your numbers. the digits are already memorized by heart.

he tries to calm his nerves as he presses the phone up to his ear after hitting the call button, nails digging into the pajamas he changed into when he got home. he thickly swallows, waiting as patiently as he can, like usual.

ring. rinnng. rinnnnnggg.

it doesn't take too long for you to pick up.

"hello?" he finally hears.

it's only one word (and a pretty basic one at that), but xiao can already hear the soft underlying shyness of your voice. his mouth naturally opens a little agape. you've always been nervous around those you weren't close to. your voice sends him into a state of bliss, so much so his brain is too foggy to reply until you coo out another hello, questioning if anyone is there on the other line due to the silence.

he almost has to force himself to speak "It's… xiao," he blinks, not even saying hello back, "from professor zhongli's class," xiao almost slips up by saying the name you know him much better by. “you… we spoke on the train. I don’t know if you remember,” he manages to stutter out.

you had seemed pretty out of it when you two talked earlier that very same day. you must’ve been so exhausted to have fallen asleep like that, right next to him. he’s still replaying the site of it over and over, the way you were struggling so hard to stay awake, head bobbing back and forth. it was probably embarrassing for you, but it was a pleasant sight for him. the soft puff of your cheeks and the furrow of your brows, the shallowness of your breath and how relaxed you looked. it made him feel like a creep, staring at you in that state, such an intimate state, a vulnerable state.

it’s why he had held back as long as he could before finally tapping you awake, wanting to bask in the precious sight for longer.

he snaps back to finally finish his explanation, “…you gave me your number earlier today," he says it less as a reminder to you, but instead as a reminder to himself. he bites his lip, waiting for you to respond, wishing he could see what you looked like right now.

in the meantime, he remembers how your eyes had begrudgingly opened back up at the feeling of him touching you. he remembers the warmth of your body that felt like it could melt his finger tips from the heat. he wishes he could see and feel both much more often, but xiao is patient. lord, is he patient.

he remembers how embarrassed you looked as you sat up in your seat, trying to reorient yourself. “sorry, what did you say?” you finally had spoken after getting settled. you must’ve been too frazzled to hear him the first time. he cleared his throat before he repeated himself, this time a little louder, a little less shy than the first time around.

“I asked which stop you get off at.” you looked at him with eyes big with confusion. he hoped, desperately (he’s always so desperate), that he hadn’t made you feel anything negative.

he made sure to explain the question in hopes that it made you feel more comfortable and not as confused. “…I can wake you up before you get there, if you’d like.”

despite his wants, he needed to make sure you were safe, and were able to actually get home. if he didn’t ‘protect’ you, who would? definitely not that roommate of yours.

to his (would be short-lived) disappointment you had shaken your head. “no, it’s fine. I really shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” you had paused for a short second before saying, “thank you, though, xiao.” he doesn’t like to remember how he almost shivered at the sound of his name coming from your lips, nor how he had to turn his head as he nodded because he could feel heat creep up it.

"oh, yes, xiao! sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call so soon. what can I do for you?"

“you asked on the train if I could tutor you. I wanted to set something up.”

it’s true, even if xiao can’t believe it himself. he knew this day would come, but didn’t expect it to be this soon. after several minutes of silence between you two, (or at least as silent as it could be on a train), you had turned to him, as if remembering something, getting his attention before you asked him something.

“sorry if this is coming out of nowhere. I was wondering if…” you took a breath, and xiao had almost sworn you were bordering scared as you finished your question. “I was wondering if you could possibly tutor me for zhonglis class? I don’t know if you’d be able to, but I spoke to him earlier today, and he recommended asking you for help.”

and of course he had said yes, to your surprise. he remembers thinking, silently, that maybe the universe was rewarding him for being so patient, and he had to keep his cool the best he could.

now here he is, actually setting something up. “would tomorrow with you?”

"yes!," you let out a nervous little laugh at your uncontrollable excitement. xiao can just picture the smile you have on your face, all shy and awkward and cute. "that would work great, I think. I really wasn't expecting you to set something up so quickly. I'm grateful though."

xiao would make the tutoring session today during the dead of night if he could. of course he would set something up so quickly.

you don't need to know that, though.

xiao hums at your words. "we… we can have our first session at my place, if you're comfortable with that." he realizes he might be coming off too strong, so he adds, "but we can have it somewhere else too." he hopes you agree to the first suggestion though.

"t-that'd be great, yeah. whatever works for you, works for me."

"I'll text you the address and the time, then… and we can discuss more sessions or a schedule and stuff further.”

"that sounds good. thank you so much again." you repeat, and he can hear the relief in your voice. it should be him thanking you, really.

"of course. goodnight."

“goodnight!” you repeat before you both hang up. a wave of bliss strikes his body.

but he isn’t going to sleep, not yet, atleast. Instead, he’s going to stay up all night, right in front of his window, thinking of all the possible lives he’s about to live.

he’ll make sure to thank zhongli for that in the morning.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

[name]: I don't think you understand how nervous I am right now

[name]: my hands are shaking and everything

alatus: why? is something wrong?

[name]: you know how I told you how I wasn't doing the greatest in one of my courses?

alatus: of course. did something happen?

[name]: the most intimidating guy I've ever met in my life is my tutor now

[name]: and I have no idea how this first session is gonna go

alatus: I think you’ll be fine. you shouldn’t worry yourself

alatus: you should let me know how everything goes.

ーーー☆

xiao's home is, to put it simply, unique.

you were left awestruck as soon as you stepped into the small but gorgeous studio apartment, shocked by both the feeling of jealousy creeping up your spine and the thought of how someone could possibly afford such an apartment, especially as a college student. no matter how xiao manages to afford his place, though, his home daunts over you.

there's a large window that lines the wall his bed and desk are propped up against and you can't help but imagine just how xiao would look as he looked out of it and at the bustling city. the glass is frosted and wet from the pitter pattering rain that seems to persist in the cool weather of october. it's a little messy, books scattered about here and there and takeout bags littering the table, and the amount of lighting in this room seems to be as minimal (and as cold) as can be, but it's nothing too bad at all. nothing that you could complain about, at least.

there's so many things inside his house, so many things your eyes are drawn to, like his big bookcase and comfy bed and his expensive computer setup, and yet it feels so... lonely. devoid of life, even. maybe it's the look of the gloomy black walls and the fact that the only lighting xiao has is a tall floor lamp and the light that comes through his window, but you've never seen such a full home feel so empty. no plants except for one little succulent that's looking worse for wear, no photos of friends or family, no bright colors, no pets to breathe life into the place, no companion to help make this house a home. nothing.

you're suddenly grateful you have such a lively roommate.

it's been a few minutes since xiao had let you in, greeting you in his comfy hoodie and baggy pants, hair put up into a messy bun, before attending to something on his computer (an important email you think, or at least something along those likes, something urgent), telling you to sit wherever you'd like and that he'll be with you shortly. you had nodded while leaving your shoes at the door, asking him if his bed would be a seat he's okay with you being on, garnering a hum in response from him.

"...I'll sit here then, since it'll be close to you and stuff," you murmur, admittedly a bit more nervous and unconfident sounding than you'd like. you plop yourself onto xiao's bed, placing your bag at your feet in front of the bed for easy access. xiao takes what's meant to be a quick glance at you, but he's unable to look away.

he knows it's creepy to say, especially when you're just sitting down so innocently, but the sight is better than what he's fantasized about. he's thought of you so many times in his bed, cuddling with him and running your hands through his hair and letting him press kisses into your face and collar bones. he's thought about waking you up with breakfast and how you'd smile and thank him even if he can't cook very well, but he's willing to learn a couple recipes for you. he's thought about laying there with you after a long day, letting you ramble as he listened like he does as alatus. he's thought about how he'd great you once he comes home like you probably do with venti, watching your form as he wait on his bed for him.

and, most of all, he's thought about the way you'd cry and sob and call him a monster once the day that you find out that his bed is now yours and that this apartment is now your home, trapped forever with him, finally comes.

one day you'll be here permanently, he's sure of it. baby steps first, though.

xiao doesn't realize that in the midst of his thinking, he's been absolutely staring you down, and considering that xiao has a naturally viscous (bitchy) looking resting face, you can't help but squirm under his gaze. "xiao? I can... move, if you'd like."

"no, I just..." he clears his throat before looking back at the work in front of him. "sorry, I zoned out for a second. you can stay there if it feels comfortable. whatever you want." the words come out as a sort of awkward, almost inaudible mumble.

is this supposed to be as awkward and tense feeling as it is?

you nod at his words, albeit a little hesitant, further settling into the soft plush of his bed. your brain is still convinced that he might want you to move, but you decide to just stay where you are. you reach down from your seat, pulling out everything you would need from your bag, waiting patiently for any instructions. the soft clicking of xiao's keyboard and the sound of rain hitting against the window fill the otherwise silent room, and honestly, given the atmosphere and the way xiao's room is so dark and cozy and how warm and inviting his bed is, you're tempted to fall asleep.

xiao's presence, though nerve-wracking, makes you feel at home. it feels familiar. you wouldn't mind falling asleep near him again.

but today's (sadly) not the day for resting. xiao finishes whatever he's working on, closing out of the tab and turning his chair to face your spot on the bed. he brushes a piece of his hair back and out of the way, uncovering the eyebrow piercing the bothersome piece had previously hid. his eyes look dead, tired dark circles laying underneath, and yet he still forces himself to speak, like a zombie who simply refuses to just give up and die.

"did you have anything specific in mind that you want to go over?"

you take a second to think, humming in response. zhongli never truly specified what you needed to brush up upon, only that the last few assignments weren't up to his standards, whatever that means. "I don't know. maybe everything from the last few weeks? I'm not so sure."

he too lets out a soft little hum as he thinks for a moment. he's never tutored before, and he's pretty sure he doesn't even have the qualifications to actually be of any sort of help. he makes it up as he goes.

“on the back of your textbook, there's a study guide that covers all the chapters inside." he gently motions for you to give him the book sitting on your lap, flipping to the page before handing it back to you. "I want you to do the questions of the study guide that cover the chapters we've already read in class. then I'll... assess you from there, and we can come up with a plan.”

it seems like a lot of work, and that's because it is. the longer you spend here (the more he can milk this session for everything it's worth), the better.

you nod, moving to get to work immediately, putting your full effort into the task at hand. you both work silently, xiao clicking at his keys alongside the noise of you flipping through the pages of your textbook and jotting answers down. the noises compliment one another well, creating a lingering sense of peace and calm in the air. you find yourself getting stuck on one or two of the questions, but… surprisingly breezing through the rest, and after a while of working, you gently speak his name, alerting him that you've finished. he’s quick to take your work, starting his inspection of it.

your hands can’t help but get a little clammy as you watch as he reads through your answers, analyzing each and every single written word. in the meantime, you’re doing a little analysis of your own, trying to distract your mind from feeling any more nervous than you realistically should.

your eyes flick from his messy hair, to the beauty mark almost right in the middle of his forehead, then to the soft dusting of red eyeshadow under his eyes. you look at how he runs a finger against the words on the page, too, almost subconsciously, and though you can’t really tell from this angle what he’s doing, you think he’s more so tracing the letters you’ve written than using it as a means to follow along. he almost looks entranced. you don’t know what to expect from xiao, can’t even guess what he’s thinking, and the furrowed eyebrows on his face definitely don’t make you feel any better.

you sit there, idley, awkwardly, fidgeting for what seemed like more than just a few minutes, before xiao finally speaks up.

you can barely hear him as he speaks, his words hushed and muffled. "you... need a lot of brushing up on the content, and your answers… lack good explanations and reasoning." he hands you back your work, sending you an almost sympathetic look. "I can see why zhongli believes you need help,” he adds.

it's a lie, of course, but you don't need to know that, not when zhongli had so delicately laid down the groundwork for all of this to happen in the first place. most of your answers were just fine as is, at least from what he lightly skimmed through.

still, he can't help but feel guilty when that look of embarrassment washes over your face.

for some reason you feel yourself get overwhelmed with emotion. you thought that maybe, just maybe, zhongli was simply just messing with you, as was notorious with the man and his teaching methods. but there's a stark sense of embarrassment that comes from xiao reaffirming what zhongli had said, an embarrassment so strong it sends your entire body ablaze with heat.

you can't help but awkwardly shift in your seat as you nod along to his words despite the way your head almost feels too heavy to lift, avoiding eye contact lest he sees you so embarrassed over something so... silly, a miniscule problem at best, something fixable with a bit of elbow grease and time, and yet it means way more than it should to you.

you've worked so hard in this class already. why aren't you improving?

he doesn’t let you really catch your breath before he speaks again. "I think we'll need a couple more sessions than we discussed earlier," he mumbles, again, as though too ashamed to speak up, flipping through his own textbook, face in his hand as he thinks. "I want to make sure we can get as much content covered as possible before the end of the semester and catch you back up, since you seem to be..." xiao takes a quick glance at you, and for a moment, just a split second, he sees you, sees inside of you, sees every little thing you've been keeping bottled up, your fear. he looks away, breath hitching out of complete and utter guilt. he forces himself to continue though.

"...behind," he finishes, the single word said notably softer than the rest of the sentence.

xiao forces himself to swallow down his guilt. truly, he feels terrible about lying about this, because you clearly seem to be doing just fine on you own and lord knows how much stress this entire ordeal is causing you, but what's the use of being presented and blessed by the gods themselves with such an amazing opportunity if his sinning hands can't take it out of greed? xiao hates it, but he's always been more of a taker than a giver, taking all he can from people and leaving nothing left of them.

the simple pure utter bliss at the thought of spending hours and hours with you, in his room, alone, intimately and in person instead of just being with you through a phone screen, extinguishes any guilt he could possibly feel.

you, on the other hand, do allow yourself to feel guilt, though it's a feeling that has much more innocent roots than what xiao feels. it's a feeling that pokes and stabs at you as you fumble for words to say. you're a much better person than xiao is in that regard. you can't help but to feel ashamed, ashamed that you were doing so terrible at a course that goes directly into your major that you would have to force xiaoー a man renowned for being a lonerー who surely would rather spend his free time by himself and not tutoring someone so out of your realm and element as you are.

maybe it's not too late after all to consider switching majors, you think.

"you seriously don't have to do that, I don't want to take more time from you than I'm already taking. honestly, I think I'm a bit of a lost cause at this point if I can't even do the simpler questions."

the truth is, not even xiao knows how scared you are. fear and dread soars through your body at the thought of ending up in the same spot you were in last year.

xiao lets out a sigh through his nose at your words, a noise that does nothing other than make you feel worse, especially when you can't read his emotions and tell what's going on in that labyrinth of a brain he has. maybe he's realized that you're not worth spending his time. maybe you really are a loss cause. maybe you really should change your major. maybe you should call it quits and drop out. maybe you should move countries, marry a rich doctor or a lawyer and spend the rest of your days as a glorified housespー

xiao doesn't let you finish your thoughts (plans), instead getting up from his chair slowly. "let's take a break." he says, and while you feel a break is a little undeserved after you haven't done much studying, you nod, thinking it might be best to just relax before jumping back into things. "taking things slowly is the better way to do things," you nod, although the words just barely register themselves in your head. you're surprisingly vulnerable with him.

"I'm... going to step out for a moment to get some air. I'll give you some time for yourself to think." you nod, giving him a small and meek thank you, genuinely so utterly grateful for all the time xiao has given you. you can't help yourself from bothering him just once more before he leaves, though.

"xiao?" you don't look up at him, eyes fixated on your answers and what must've been so wrong with them. you hear him hum, beckoning you to continue.

“do you think I'll be able to pass?”

"of course you will," he answers, and it's the first truth he's said all day.

"of course," he mumbles, this time lower, a reminder to himself of how you'd be completely fine on your own, and that he should never, ever take this opportunity for granted.

he makes a promise to himself that he won't.

----- NEW TEXT MESSAGE -----☆

zhongli: hello, [name]. xiao informed me earlier today that you two will be conducting your first study session today. I'm glad you spoke to him about tutoring like I had advised you to. how are things going?

[name]: it's going fine, he mostly just reaffirmed what you already told me though. but he's been really kind about it all, I'm grateful that he agreed to help me out.

zhongli: I see. I hope that he could give you a new perspective on things and aid you in your weak spots. xiao is an amazing student in his own right, and I'm sure that together, you two will make an amazing team. I'm glad you two are getting along.

zhongli: I'd like to give you a little heads up for a future assignment, but there will be a project upcoming where I'll be sure to partner you two up. I'm sure you two will impress me on what you come up with.

zhongli: I believe in you, [name], and I expect good things coming forward.

zhongli: I'm sure that xiao is grateful as well.

[name]: thank you.

[name]: I hope to meet your standards as best as I can.

-----☆

the apartment is even quieter than it was before without xiao.

it's lonely, too.

in a way, you used this little moment to yourself as a justification and way to figure out just what exactly is the enigma that is xiao. now that you're by yourself, you find yourself looking around at his walls, glancing over at one of the two of his cork boards that seems to have a bunch of what looks to be memorabilia of all sorts, stuff like old music concert tickets of local bands you've never heard of, polaroids with some familiar places and even some of his friends, post-it note scribbles of different tasks he has to get done, among other things.

you visualize yourself looking at the corkboard as though it's those ones in those crime movies, where you're using red yarn to connect the pieces of a story together, figuring out with all the clues you have at your disposal who xiao is.

there's other things, too. posters lining the wall and a singular cat shaped plushie on his bed, a wilted bouquet of flowers in a vase on his kitchen countertop meant for decoration, various little knick knacks on his desk, but the part of his room that catches your eye most, though, is his large, expansive bookshelf filled (a little messily) with a variety of different things, almost all of it stuff you actually recognize.

you’re halfway through looking around before you hear the door open back up again. you instinctually freeze, as of you’re a kid who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. you shift your head, locking eyes with him as he steps back inside. to your surprise, he doesn’t look upset, not even annoyed, just intrigued as he watches you awkwardly shuffle away a little from the bookshelves.

you try to apologize with hast. “sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I swear, I was just–“

xiaos quick to interject as he walks right past you over to sit, this time on his bed instead of at his desk. “it’s fine. I don’t mind. you don’t have to apologize.” he crosses his arms once he’s situated in his seat. “do whatever you’d like.” he adds in an attempt to comfort you.

it sounds sarcastic, but you somehow can tell that it’s not. you nod, taking it as (hoping that it’s) permission to keep going. your eyes move over to the other corkboard near the bookshelves, hoping that you’re not stepping over any boundaries by doing so. this board is filled more with many different photos pinned up onto it. there’s all sorts of sites and places, things like concerts or shops or restaurants or nature– the list goes on– with a rare one or two photos with him actually in it. even rarer seemed to be other people that didn’t look like strangers in the background.

you subconsciously speak a thought aloud. “you seem to go out a lot. to really cool places, too.”

the only thing he really says in response is, “all of those aren’t recent.”

you hum in response, eyebrows furrowing a little as you nod in understanding. “oh, I see.” xiao takes it as an opportunity to ask you something even though he knows the answer already. “what about you? do you go out a lot?”

the question takes you a little aback. “I haven’t gotten out a lot recently either.” you try to think about all you’ve done recently, before realizing there’s nothing much to think about at all. you add, in truth, “…you’re honestly the first person I’ve spent time with in a while that wasn’t my roommate, but I don’t think that really counts.”

he cocks his head to the side at that answer, golden eyes staring at you (almost straight through your soul), intrigued. “why haven’t you spent time with anyone else?

a soft pang hits your heart as you think about the reason. the breakup. despite how much time has gone by, you’re still tender about the topic, and would rather not think about everything it’s caused as a result. would rather not think about him, either.

you let out a nervous laugh. “that’s a long story, I guess.”

xiao seems dissatisfied with that answer. he’s never responded so quickly, without hesitating before.

“I have time.”

you send a look of slight confusion his way. “I thought we were going to study some more today?”

“right…” xiao let’s a lot of dead air slip in whenever he speaks, pausing and hanging onto words as if he’s doing mental calculations to figure out what the right thing to say next. “…in the future, then.”

you nod as your eye continues it’s adventure through the board before another photo catches your attention fully. it’s a pretty photo of a bunch of people standing near the docks, holding up and letting go of lanterns. it looks like, judging from the date scribbled on the bottom of the photo and the contents of the photo itself, the annual lantern rite from a few years back. you remember that day, almost vividly, too. that was your first year at the school. you and venti had gone together that year. it was magical. it seems like xiao really was never too far from you. seriously, you’re surprised you two haven’t talked sooner.

you can’t help but smile as you reminisce on that day. “I remember this exact lantern rite. there was so many people, and the lanterns were so beautiful. they always are.”

you turn around to face him, again. “how long has it been since you’ve gone to the harbor? if I lived as close as you do, I think I’d go to the harbor whenever I have time.”

it takes awhile for xiao to respond, not because he’s thinking of an answer, but because he’s transfixed on your expression right now. you seem so happy that it naturally just pulls on his heart strings. he’s glad you still remember that particular lantern rite, even though he knows you’ve gone to more since then. xiao remembers that day visibly too, but probably (definitely) not for the same you do. he wonders if you remember that part of it deep inside.

“um… since the day of that photo, probably.”

you’re a little taken aback from that answer. xiao lives on the outskirts of the harbor. how could he have not gone back in years? everything you learn about xiao makes you more and more curious as to who he is. “really?” you can’t help but ask. he can’t help but shrug.

you speak without even thinking twice once more. “would you want to go again sometime then?” your eyes dart away from his face. you can’t help but look away before you finish the question, unable to look him in the eye as you clarify, “with me, I mean.” you stumble out the words more confidently than you exprcted.

he lets out a sigh. “there’s nothing I want from there…” it’s the truth. he hasn’t been very fond of the harbor for what has felt like centuries, especially not the memories he’s tethered to. he can’t help but to regret the accidental roughness of his words, though, when he looks up to see a flash of embarrassment paint across your face. it feels like he picked the wrong answer, but he wants to say the right one, desperately. xiao has never been great at talking, but he’s trying, for you. “but if you’d like… I’d like to go with you.”

you try to hide the way your heart picks up the pace a little at his words. “let’s go soon, then. I can tell you about myself, and you can tell me about you, too.”

he nods, and for a split second you think you’ve gone insane, because you swear, swear, that for a few seconds, the corner of xiao’s lips curve softly into a smile. a smile! smiling at the thought of you two ‘hanging out’ in the future! for all the times you’ve seen xiao, you can maybe only count on one hand how many times you’ve seen him smile.

“you want to learn about me?” he asks, earnestly, shocked, and it definitely wasn’t a question you were expecting.

“yeah, I mean I've always seen you around. I think we've even been in the same classes before this year, too, and now I’m getting tutored by you and I still know pretty much nothing about you.” you pause before adding on, “I’d love to learn more. I hope that’s not weird, or anything.”

he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile still etched onto his lips. and if you looked closely (which luckily for him, you weren’t), you’d see the faint dust of blush decorating his cheeks, too. “I don’t have much to tell you, but… that sounds good.”

he feels embarrassed at the fact he can’t control how warm his cheeks feel and how he can’t help but crack a smile at you. he clears his throat, trying to reset himself, suddenly ready to move on, going back to his desk.

“let’s keep working, I want to make the most out of the time we have together.” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. you mentally brace yourself for another study session with him.

it’s gonna be a long night.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

ven: where have you been?

ven: haven’t seen you all day……….. ):

ven: my flower, the house is so empty without you……….. ))):

ven: are you with somebody? you never tell me these things anymore.

ven: talk to me soon, please.

ーーー ☆

it's late into the night when you're awakened rudely with a few desperate knocks against your bedroom door.

you can't help but groan as you stir awake, upset to be forced out of your dream state, although that irritation is soon replaced with guilt once you realize just why you were being awakened with such urgency in the first place. after whining out a loud, 'come in,' you peak your eyes open to see your best friend standing in your doorway, tears staining his face so much that they're visible even in the darkness.

shit. it's been so long since you've seen venti like this. you thought all of that was over ages ago.

"can I sleep with you tonight?" his voice is shakey yet gentle, filled with fear and something that you can only label as... need, as if he needs you more than he ever has. just his voice alone, paired with the way he looks so in the doorway while he's shivering and fiddling with his pajamas, hair looking almost as distraught as he's feeling, is enough to have you too stunned to speak.

"please?" he adds on when you don't reply immediately.

you nod, scooting over to make room for him as he slowly trudges to your bed like he's done many times before. he's quick to settle in under the covers with you, laying against the plush pillow underneath him. you move closer to him as though it's instinct, an action done out of retained muscle memory from the many nights you've spent doing this exact thing. your eyes, though half lidded and heavy, trace over his face over and over again, noting how his eyes look back at you and you can't help but think that venti is such an expressive person. even if he's so silent right now, his eyes are cloudy and storming, speaking a thousand words with the thunder that rings out within them.

he looks like he's trying to think of what to say, but he doesn't need to say a single thing. you already know why he's here.

his face is contorted in a way that almost showcases utter agony, and it hurts, hurts to see your best friend suffering, especially when the best you can do is guide your hand softly against the smooth the skin of his cheek and brushing away any tears in pity. if nothing else, you truly do hope that, at the very least, your presence can help.

“do you maybe want to talk about it?” you run your hand through his soft, pretty dyed blue locks that seem to almost glow in the moonlight, feeling the light moisture of his skin from his sweat. you’ve forgotten just how easy it always has been to brush your hand through his locks. your voice is gentle and low as if not to startle him, as if not to shatter him more than he already is. “you know you don’t have to, but you can always talk to me if you need to.”

“no, it’s okay... I just want to be with you right now.” his voice is meek as he chooses his words carefully as though they're meticulously chosen to pull at your heartstrings (they do), and he sounds like he’s on the brink of tears once more.

“is it the same dream as before?” you ask, remembering how many nights you've spent with venti just like this when he began getting frequent ‘nightmares’ awhile back, nightmares that till this day you don't know the contents of.

he nods, although hesitantly, as though it’s some sort of secret. and in a way, it is.

he could never, ever, ever tell you that you’re the cause of all of his nightmares after all.

“are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? you look really upset. you've never told me what makes you like this.”

“no, I just want to… I just want to stay like this for a while.”

“okay, ven,” you whisper, soft and quiet, as if your voice could shatter him whole. you pause, thinking of what to say, before you decide that you won’t prode any further, instead bidding him a goodnight. “I love you, venti. get some rest.”

for the first time in maybe months, venti doesn’t tell you he loves you back.

instead he burrows himself as deep as humanly possible, as if being torn away from you would kill him, just like the way his dreams pulled and tugged ruthlessly at his heart strings, shoving images of you with your new 'tutor' down his throat, like they had with him months and months ago.

how cruel is it that he's forced to see you being ripped away from him both in real life and in his dreams?

-----☆

you're half asleep when you feel him mumble into your skin.

"I miss you. I miss this." he whispers, but you can barely hear him. he misses the way you feel, how comforting you smell, how his hands connect with your body like they're puzzle pieces. he misses having all your attention on him like this, so quick to coo and ask if he's okay. everything’s changed from how it used to be.

"what?"

you feel venti's hands slip under your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your back as he slowly trails his hands up and down, basking in the way that you feel. "I miss you, cecilia. especially today." his voice isn't shakey anymore. instead it's much more fluid, as though he never had the night terrors that brought him into your room to begin with. you can't help but frown at his words even in your sleepy state.

"venti..." you mumble out, feeling his hands start to dig themselves into your skin. his grip on your waist is tightー not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it keeps you from pushing him away if you really wanted to, trapping and suffocating you, bordering the lines of sucking the air out of your lungs.

part of you wishes he wouldn't keep things so bottled up from you, because clearly, your constant 'absence' in his life is hurting him more than you'll ever be able to understand, but the more selfish part of you is shamefully grateful that he is. you love venti, but for a man who constantly champions for freedom, he's always been so dead set on taking away yours.

you know deep down that if you gave venti an inch, he'd take a mile, and you don't have many miles left to give. you could spend twenty-four hours of a day with venti and he would still want you to somehow spend twenty-five on him. as much as you love ventiー truly, you love him more than anything else in the worldー, you know it'd be better if you didn't indulge him as much as you want him to. lord knows how quick venti would be to turn you into a hollow, empty shell of yourself by taking every second you have all for himself if he could.

besides, this whole thing will blow over eventually after the party, right?

right?

"I know that I've already whined and complained about it, but god, I miss you. you were gone for so long today with someone I don't even know… seeing you occasionally here and there isn't enough for me. I..." venti somehow manages to pull his body even closer to you, your chest and his chest plush against each other, so close that you can feel the way it rises as he breathes slowly. "I know I'm selfish, but I need you."

he says the word 'need' as if he'd die without you.

you don't think this is a conversation you two should be having when you're so... out of it, exhausted.

"venti, can we talk about this in the morning?"

his grip slowly loosens. "...okay." he says the word slowly and hesitantly, as if he's a child saying a cuss word for the first time, as if agreeing to put his feelings aside until you're in a much more lucid and conscious state is a sin. "I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you and being so clingy and... I just..." venti swallows thickly. "goodnight," venti mumbles, choosing not to finish his thought.

your eyebrows furrow, something about this whole conversation feeling off to you. never in a million years would venti have been so... upfront, apart from the day he invited you to the party. it's like venti's slowly unraveling like a string, just one little tug away from snapping.

it wouldn't be the first time venti's snapped on you though. you need to mend things and shut off the ticking time bomb before things blow up in your face again, like when you...

like when you...

ugh. you'll think about all of this later when you're actually well-rested and capable of forming cohesive thoughts. you softly mumble out a goodnight to venti as well, praying that the storm will blow off soon enough.

it doesn't, though. the winds only get stronger and louder.

ーーー☆

venti wasn't in your room by the time you woke up. infact, he wasn't in the apartment at all. not in his room, not in the kitchen or in the bathroom getting ready, nowhere. he didn't even leave a text telling you where he went.

you guess that venti needs time to think after last night, and you decide that it's probably for the best.

you'll see him again later anyways.

ーーー☆

it's cold out today, october's chill punishing you for wearing too light of a sweater for the weather, but the freezing temperature of the classroom during today's lecture isn't the cause of the way you squirm in your seat out of discomfort. no, you have professor zhongli to take credit for that.

you're convinced that zhongli gets a kick out of giving you borderline heart attacks.

honestly, that isn't exactly far from the truth. there's something about the way your eyes flicker in complete, utter fear just by him saying, "[name], may you please see me after class? there's something I'd like to discuss with you," that sends shivers down his spine, as egregious as that may sound. it's a shameful feeling for a professor to have, but at least he has much more innocent intentions this time as opposed to the last time he's asked you to stay behind.

the request was given to you right at the start of class (which you were actually on time to, thank god) before he began with his lecture. and once again, you couldn't help but think about just what exactly zhongli wanted to discuss with you throughout the entire lecture, almost too busy coming up with theories to focus. all you can think is, did you do something wrong again? was the assignment you turned in last night bad? all that studying you did with xiao couldn’t have been for nothing, right? you're going to fail the semester at this rate.

you wish zhongli was more dead set on helping you pass like last year than assuring that you failed.

you can’t help but call back to that time. you had been much worse off back then. you were visibly behind everyone else, but it hadn't started that way. so much was happening back then. and that breakup, oh that fucking break up, really made focusing on your school work beyond difficult. you truly did put up a fight, tried to make sure you stayed afloat, and it did work at first. but your responsibilities drowned you completely, and you never really learned how to swim.

it was a rough semester, and one of your classes had been taught by the very same man taking great pleasure in ruining you today. your one saving grace? once again, the very same man, who had seemed to take enough pity onto you that he took matters into his own hands to make sure you did well.

you stood out back then, not because you shone bright, but because you didn't shine at all.

zhongli wanted to light that fire back in you that you had at the start of the year. and he had.

zhongli had took you under his wing, struck you with passion and drive, made you fall in love all over again with the topic you were studying through his ramblings and stories and sheer utter knowledge; he revitalized you, filled a hole. he had kept you after class and in his office on weekends, making time to make sure that you succeeded and through his gentle nurturing that was the hot to his own cold. you had succeeded, to your surprise. and he had looked after you ever since.

it was silly for you to believe that he would grace you with the same mercy this course.

but things are different now. so much more different. you were grateful back then for him striving to push you to do better, but now it's overwhelming. back then, his standards were achievableー finish your assignments on time as often as you could, study a little when you can, at least attempt to attend every class you had. it was doable. but now, now you're almost convinced he wants you to become borderline perfectー no, perfect is an understatement. he wants you to be better than perfect.

perfect, and vulnerable.

back then it felt as though he was trying to help you but now, the back of your mind can't help but tell you that he's always been helping himself, benefiting himself, not you.

it was at the start of this school year that you let yourself fall right into the dragon's lair.

either way, maybe it's the fact that your mind was so occupied, or maybe time simply just decided to speed up, but the class flew by in no time. you had practically tuned out all of zhongli's ramblings and teachings today. you watched zhongli dismiss the class, staying seated despite the way everyone else shuffled out of the door as quickly as possible. once again, it was just you and zhongli in the empty room.

fuck.

zhongli walks to the front of your desk, running a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh, and you never knew how such a little harmless action could strike so much fear into your heart. could you just combust already? you're not at all ready for whatever zhongli has to say.

"what a long class we had today, hm? I hope I didn't bore you too much. you looked particularly distracted." zhongli says, smiling gently at you as he attempts to brighten the gloomy mood you're clearly in. "luckily, though, I've been excited to talk to you all class. you truly were my saving grace today."

is this some kind of sick joke? you were kidding when you thought zhongli must get pleasure out of your failure, but you might actually be right.

gross.

"don't worry, though, I didn't keep you after class just to complain. I'll get to the point, since I know you hate pointless chatter."

"I know it's far too early to say this, but I'm proud of you, [name]."

that caring nature still shines through, the strict professor he's supposed to be eroded and washed away by time itself.

your eyebrows furrow. "what?" you can’t help but let the word slip out of your mouth in the midst of your confusion.

"the assignment you gave in last night, truly one of your best works this semester. you never fail to amaze me with how fast you manage to make a turnaround when you put your mind to it, [name]."

the assignment? the one you worked on last night at the last second despite having over a week to do it after studying with xiao that you had to keep your eyes pried open to complete? the one xiao had borderline picked apart a dozen times as though trying to break you down even more? that assignment?

what?

"but I... what? if it was any good, it's likely only because xiao was there to help me." you mumble, unsure of your words.

"so? are you really diminishing your accomplishments just because you got a little aid?" zhongli plants a hand on your cheek like he has a dozen times in the past before guiding your face to look up at him. "or are you trying to say that it was xiao who had done your assignment, not you?"

"o-of course he didn't, but-" zhongli is quick to shush you, pressing a gloved thumb against your lips with a soft smile.

"shh. you did well, and that's final. I hope this pattern continues. you know I want nothing but the best for you after seeing what you can achieve." his gloved hand caresses your cheek and you're convinced he can feel the heat your face is producing out of embarrassment even through the layer of fabric. "my little star, you're doing well again." he adds quietly, so quietly that you can just barely make it out, though the nickname is far less shocking than the praise that your brain is still trying to make sense of.

"before I let you go, I just wanted to reiterate that should you ever need my assistance with anythingー and I mean anything at all, whether it's related to your academics or notー know that I am and always will be here."

"I... thank you." it's the only words you can come up with as zhongli leaves you alone with your thoughts. "thank you," you repeat, speaking the words much more quietly. in a hushed whisper.

in the back of your mind, you realize that you should be thinking about how odd it is for zhongli to suddenly be so sugary sweet, how he's touched you so much more intimately than a professor should, how his little nickname for you is weird at best, and yet all you can think about is how he's proud of you.

for some reason, that's all that really matters to you in the moment. you can think about... all that other stuff, later.

ーーー☆

it's almost pitch dark out by the time you finally get home.

"I'm home!" you shout out as soon as you step through the front door, voice a little breathy after having to climb up a few flights of stairs to get up to your apartment, alerting venti that you've arrived in a way akin to how married couples do. you're quick to lock the door behind you, stripping yourself of your shoes that feel more like weights before placing them in the shoe rack near the door and putting your heavy bag down next to venti's violin case, deciding you'll bother with getting whatever you need out of there when you feel like it. you wince a little at the cold tiles of the floor underneath your feet.

maybe one day you'll move into a place with an actual heater, you think.

"I'll be there in just a second!" venti's voice rings out from what you assume is the bathroom down the hall, likely showering given the pitter-pattering sound of running water. you nod, as though responding to him despite the fact he can't see you, flicking on the light switch to the kitchen as you do so. the kitchen table immediately grabs your attention with how different it looks compared to how you left it this morning. two orange pumpkins sit at the center, and alongside it lays an unopened package of carving tools and another package of tea lights, a brown bag filled with what looks to be some house decor and knick knacks (venti truly does love trying to make your run-down apartment as much of a true home as possible), and a bag of groceries yet to be put away.

you sit down at the medium sized wooden table, allowing yourself to rest and bask in the day as you look through everything infront of you. it's been awhile since you've just sat in silence and thought, and even longer since you let yourself really live in this home without just heading straight to your room. your nails drill against the table, pushing one of the two pumpkins closer to you with a soft hum. you trace a finger against it, imaginging what'd you want to carve on it and how it'd glow after you put a candle inside.

this year you should do something new, get a little more fancier with the design that you have in the previous years that you craved a pumpkin. maybe you and venti will carve matching jack-o-laterns this year. you can't help but smile at the thought.

"they're cute, aren't they?"

you tense up when you feel a hand on your shoulder, but you instantly relax when you turn your head to see venti. you guess you were so lost in thought you hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom. you drink in his presence, giving him a glance over out of instinct. the smell of his apple-cinnamon bodywash assault your senses in an oddly comforting way, a scent that makes you feel right at home. he's in a pair pajamas and cute bunny slippers, and his hair is clipped up in a pretty half up, half down ponytail. the blue dyed tips of his hair are losing their signature color (which is odd, considering that despite his inherit laziness, venti's always been one to make sure those tips stay bright blue at all costs) and his skin looks a little damp.

a gummy smile paints his face, and he has a bit of a playful glint in his eye, but he looks notably tired, and a sense of worry pings at your heart at the sight. you were the roommate notorious for having bags under your eyes afterall, not him, so to see him look so exhausted, especially when venti's always been one for getting his 'beauty sleep,' tells you that venti internally isn't feeling his best. it sounds shallow, judging someone's mental health based on their appearance, but you know venti like the back of your hand, and you know that something's wrong.

even moreso, you know exactly what that wrong thing is, given last night's conversation.

"I got them at the grocery store today. thought it might be fun to carve them together before they go bad. that is, if you want to grace me with your undivided time and attention, of course." venti pretends he's joking, but you know deep down he means the sentiment of wanting you to give him your time for once, and you honestly feel awful at his words. nonetheless, you suck it up, smiling up at him. it's a genuine smile.

"why wouldn't I? it is tradition after all. I'm going to make mine extra scary this year."

venti laughs at your words, his heart internally flutter at the thought of how determined your face would look as you try to create the spookiest jack-o-latern he's ever seen. he leans down, pressing a soft, platonic peck to your forehead, finally giving you a welcome home.

"you're home later than usual again, everything go okay?"

you can't help but notice that venti is acting as if he had never said what he said last night, though the air between you is still awkward and tense, and his face does little to hide the fact that deep down, he's still quelling on the things he spoke about. nonetheless, you decide that that conversation is to be had when venti wants it to happen, knowing full well from years of being his best friend that venti prefers keeping a lighter mood at all costs, so you leave things at that until he's ready to speak about it again.

"yeah, I just thought that I'd try to get some work done while I could at campus," you answer, watching as he nods slowly at your words. you can tell he's fighting back the urge to interrogate you, to ask you if you were with anybody and if you really needed to stay at campus, and anything else he can use as a way to rationalize the fact that he's so clingy. he looks around the room, thinking about what else he could say to make sure the conversation doesn't end prematurely.

"oh! I ordered some takeout a bit before you came home. it's still hot, if you want to eat."

you nod, thanking him, and you can tell he's trying to read you, to figure out just how exactly he can stay with you longer without him bringing up anything you two talked about last night. he stands there, presence lingering as though he has something to say, and yet he chooses not to say whatever's on his mind, instead preferring to pick up the unopened bottle of dandelion wine on the nearby kitchen counter.

"you seem all set. I'll get going now, then. I have an urgent date with a bottle of wine that I can't miss for the world." venti moves quickly to leave as though trying to make sure you don't see through to him, turning his back to you without another word, but he doesn't get too far before he's freezing up at your words.

"you're not gonna stay and chat?" you say instinctively, a little surprised by the fact he was so quick to come and go today. you don't know what it is about today, but the thought of venti forcing himself to go when he clearly doesn't want to pains you. maybe it was last night's conversation, or maybe it's how venti radiates warmth that fights against the biting cold that nips at your skin, or maybe you just miss venti, but you want him here with you.

venti turns around slowly, his voice low as he speaks. "oh..." he starts off, "I thought you would've wanted to eat alone like all the other nights," you almost let out a wince at his words. how long has it really been since you last simply hung out with venti? "do you... want me to stay?" you let out a gentle hum.

"I want you here tonight. I want to talk to you."

"about what?"

you think about everything you'd want to tell venti, and you realize that that's exactly it; you want to tell him everything and anything you can. you want to tell him about your new tutor who turned out to be a lot less scary than you were expecting him to be, or that new coffee shop a friend had told you about that opened up near by that you'd love to tell him about, or how zhongli was actually kind to you today. but you also want venti to tell you everything too, about any escapades he's had recently while drunk or new songs he's written, or even how his classes are going and if he's thinking of going to any other parties soon.

you realize that, as much as you'd hate to admit it to yourself, you miss just being with venti a lot too.

"everything," you finally reply after thinking, grinning up at his hesitant form.

"everything? really? this isn't a ploy to tell me horrific news or to try to get out of going to that party, is it?"

"no, I promise. I'm honestly a bit offended you'd think I'd ever be so cruel as to try to get out of going to such an amazing party," you joke.

venti playfully rolls his eyes at your words, but he can't help the smile that creeps up his face. his smile is bright like a star, warm enough for a planet to survive off of, eyelids crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he puts the bottle in his hand down befofe he pulls up one of the kitchen chairs, the legs screeching against the floor so that he's sitting infront of you. he leans in close to you as though you were about to tell him the greatest story known to man. you can't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. venti's smile, his real and genuine smile, gives you a feeling like no other. it makes you feel whole, like none of your problems neither exist nor matter and that everything in this world is perfect.

"okay then, dove, tell me everything."

ーーー NEW TEXT MESSAGE ーーー☆

alatus: can you believe it's almost sunday already?

[name]: holy shit, time is going by so fast

[name]: I'm so excited to meet you in person

alatus: I'm excited too.

[name]: I can't believe I've known you for over a year and I'm only going to get to see your face now

[name]: I swear, if you're just some creep...

alatus: I promise I'm not.

alatus: well, maybe.

[name]: ha ha, very funny.

[name]: but seriously, it honestly feels like I've known you for forever.

alatus: maybe you have and you just never noticed

#tw stalking #tw age gap #tw possession #tw student teacher relationship #tw yandere #tw manipulation #yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere Genshin impact x reader

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dangermousie · 1 year ago

Text

Farscape rewatch 2x04: Crackers Don’t Matter

One of my favorite eps and the most quoted one in the Mousie household.

You know what I am struck by, this time? How crazily Farscape works. I am faced with the next to last scenes of this ep: John with green face-make-up, shiny cover, attacking a bug-looking alien with a sword as it gibbers, screaming 'humans are superior' and marvelling at the fact that somehow, it all works. How crazy is it? It works, works brilliantly. Farscape took some odd risks, some strange choices, but IMO, they almost always worked out.

And the way the humor (and this episode is bona fide hilarious) can coexist with cruelty and darkness because the ways the Moyans turn on each other is just vicious and what makes it horrible is that it’s their darkest ids, worst selves exposed - so it is them, even if the worst version of them.

And they have to live with it, with all the stuff they said and did, no easy solutions...

This is long and cap-heavy so behind read more...

I am also struck by how tight the writing is. It's obviously an organic show: it didn't have every plot detail worked out years in advance. But when things come up, they get so incorporated for later, they get brought up again, it all just fits. Just think of the little throw-away comment by Maldis in S1 that John lost his virginity to Karen Shaw, and how it comes to play in Kansas in S4. Why am I thinking of this for this ep? It's the fact that here is Harvey (his very first appearance), telling John that revenge is a dish best served cold, his whole attitude, his whole statement is so in line with the whole late S3 ep 'Revenging Angel' which echoes it so well. In RA Harvey fails to understand what makes John tick, what makes him stay alive: he is limited by his creator Scorpius. He fails to realize that what keeps John alive is hope and that for John, Aeryn is hope. (That is why chip!John in Scorpy's head in Incubator is so intractable, so final: he is post-loss-of-Aeryn, he really has nothing). What Scorpy fails in (and by extension Harvey) is to understand John on a very basic level: they don't really fit, like two odd pieces of a puzzle. Grayza of course makes the same mistake on Arnessk. It's going to sound corny, but Scorpy fails to understand goodness (not surprising considering his upbringing) while John has one-up on his opponent because he understands evil, because his face has been rubbed into it until it's raw.

I kept thinking, why is John the least affected by Traltixx in this ep? I am sure the eyesight has something to do with it (I love how Farscape turns on its head the old trope of humans being saviors because they are better. Crichton is 'better' because he is handicapped, because he doesn't see so well). But I think there are other issues here: for one thing, Crichton is a researcher, someone who must be analytical by nature. More importantly, he is attuned to oddness not just because of his post-Scorpy paranoia but because he is a stranger in a strange land, sensitized. And the thing is, just as with the chip later - knowing something is off is different from being able to put breaks on it. He periodically, alone among the rest of them, realizes something is wrong with his behavior but he is unable to truly stop it - the ugliness and the violence just come pouring out; the only concession to control is that he doesn’t kill anyone. The crew is horrifically ugly to each other in this one, but the ep is also mind-blowingly hilarious. Not like Out of their Minds, which is just plain funny. This one is funny with a hell of a sting. Some pretty bad things are said. I am struck not even as much by the Aeryn-John showdown (they know each other the best, so they really know where to hurt. Though I am still wondering how you can be both frigid and a skank :)) but I think it's because Aeryn and John cause each other such universes of pain, exactly when they are not trying to, but only trying to protect themselves or even do what is best for the other, that this is small fry. What is a little exchange of gunfire and a hit at Aeryn's being a traitor or John not measuring up to his father in comparison with Die Me Dichotomy or the coin toss or so much of late S3 or S4? Still, ouch ouch ouch.

What I am really struck by are other interactions: D'Argo with Rygel, flopping the little guy around like...well, a puppet, force-feeding him crackers. It's ugly. We haven't seen D'Argo attack a helpless being since DNA Mad Scientist, and we've forgotten, and it hurts. Though it does show a difference: here it's Traltixx doing an equivalent of drugging him. The inner savage is much further from the surface. The crew from early S1 would have succumbed to Traltixx in ten minutes flat.

And keeping with the fact that actions always have consequences, there is no magic forgiveness at the end (though also like Farscape, there is hope of one later.)

And Crichton with Chiana. It's an unnerving scene, horrible to watch, precisely because normally John is so protective of her, because for Chiana, John is in many ways her safe harbor, her surrogate big brother, someone who she would always feel safe in the area of sex with (i.e. he won't, with her). But he turns that protection on its head, something ugly (though luckily, a bunch of the horrible stuff comes from Harvey, not John, so she doesn't hear it).

Yikes.

Pretty telling tho that even messed with by Traltixx, any sexual threat is not from John but is suggestion of the chip, which is doing whatever to get Crichton to kill his shipmates so he’d be easier to capture. John himself is horrifyingly cruel but does not see Chiana this way at all.

The idea he ends up liking is tying her up next to the rest of them so he could try to talk without everyone shooting each other, not anything else and thank GOD.

This is such a reversal of his attitude in Taking the Stone so I think it's interesting that the attitudes in here and TtS are juxtaposed (in TtS Crichton is losing it a bit, slowly, but it makes him more protective, not less. That is the natural 'insane' Crichton, not the one where someone took over and brought out the darkest id; when he is himself, however utterly mad and irrational, he is never wantonly cruel to his loved ones.) And then of course, later, when he is back to sanity and tries to apologize, she blows it off, acts impressed. Chiana is queen of repression in some ways, however open she is in others.

You know, there is another reason why Crichton was the one to pull it together. (And no, I am not just referring to stubborness). He already has that edge of insanity to him and it's growing slowly larger. So has he figured out how to cope under weirdness while maintaining some control? He's had to persevere through some horrid stuff and had his head messed up with, so he can temporarily put aside distractions. But the thing is - this is only the start of Scorpius messing with his head. He can fight it on the margins for now (Harvey the Chip clearly wants him to kill everyone so he can be captured easier) but he can fight it even under the stress but we all know how it ends...

Oh yes!

He tries to tell Aeryn about seeing Scorpius but she’s also affected by the light and pays no attention and even John himself assumes it was some of the stuff Traltixx did (and I believe when they first had Scorpy show it was supposed to be a one off, not a chip) and oh boy, the misery that is going to eventually follow.

(the little correction she makes, heeeee...)

Oh boy, and eventually he will make you do that and this will be one of the worst moments of your life.

The thing is - having your mind hijacked is horrible but long before that happens to any significant degree, the layers of horror of it all are there because it’s not just John thinking he’s losing his mind and having his mind sorted through and controlled; it’s the fact that he now lives with the constant presence of his chief torturer in his head - it’s a somewhat literal metaphor for aftereffects of torture yes but also there is the sheer body horror of it which is incredible.

Yikes...

Side note - the ugliness with John and D’Argo bothers me least because they are evenly matched but also it’s pure physical violence, no emotional cruelty involved.

Also, cool bit of foreshadowing, Chiana aligning with D'Argo here but also, the way Aeryn and John still want to jump each other in this little scene tho they were shooting at each other and have not too much rationality. Heh.

God, those two must have some truly spectacular sex once they finally get to it.

Oh, and the sheer unhinged anything goes vibe of this is so perfect. I don’t know how they manage.

And of course Zhaan just spending the whole episode orgasming and show making no bones about it - I love how just genuinely out there the show was.

Just wild...

Crichton barreling through insanity to save the day but everyone emerging a little or a lot worse for wear is a lot of the modus operandi of this show and this episode really distills it down so concisely in the most gloriously insane way.

#farscape

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sincerelylea · 2 years ago

Note

Neither of these fall under Fluff/Angst really, but I would be tickled to see what you do for either one:

"Anything You Can Do" from Annie Get Your Gun + Dean?

"The Other Side" from The Greatest Showman + Sam?

this prompt was a test at trying to connect the greatest showman to supernatural which in an of itself is a great feat i would say. this was fun to write and to ponder over so i went with this idea i’ve been thinking of for some weeks now, almost like a sneak peak into this universe of angel blood reader vs demon blood sam in a way.

thank you for the request, i hope to see some more in the inbox soon. my requests are indeed open, right now i’m writing song+character requests from supernatural so yeah, drop em if you want.

sam winchester. you can do like me.

leaving nebraska meant leaving behind the childhood self and living now. there, in that small town, laid your childhood bedroom, the memories of your aunt at the stove making velveeta, and the sound of her voice as she sang to an old stereo cassette of bob dylan and johnny cash. there was much to leave behind, some which you held onto tightly as you pressed the gas and escaped state borders.

but that version of self was naive. hadn’t yet learned the knowledge of what you do now, and lived under the roof of a lifetime hunter and hadn’t a single idea of even what that was.

she was cremated now. joshua took over the bar when you said you were leaving. sold the house too so you could live off the funds for a while.

sometimes you got an odd craving you couldn’t sastiate. one you couldn’t define or put a name to, but one that would tear you up inside and leave you thinking of only that.

now you understand it was the power of micheal within you.

and for the past few weeks you’d been pushing the pavement to cross state borders with two brother’s on your tail that you hoped you manage to shake off this time.

you learned about them before your permanent departure from nebraska. one of the regulars in the bar reminded you of the name winchester, one you knew was famous in the hunter’s world. your heart fell to the pit of your stomach at the mention; living as a hunter on your own felt like you were a newborn on shaky wobbly knees, you weren’t ready to start running at the first taste of freedom.

the regular hadn’t a clue as to why they were chasing you, and you didn’t hear much about them either, but you didn’t wanna find out.

so now you’re in a motel in indiana after 17 hours of driving across country; while exhaustion didn’t quite match the sensation you were feeling, you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep anyway. the idea of two men busting your door down kept your eyes wide and your hands shaky with anxiety.

the clock ticked on the wall too loud. you removed it’s batteries and laid back down. but then the silence ate at your bones a little too much and you turn on the radio to the alarm clock to your left real quiet so you could listen out for the sound of cars.

you think to your aunt. wonder if she’d ever been put in a situation like this. the hunter world was messy so you considered a yes. but she was strong and different - peaceful in her power like she knew how to wield it. you hadn’t the opportunity to ask her knowledge of the winchester before she died, but you imagine if she grew up into the life and owned a primarily hunter populated bar that she must have. maybe you’d ask joshua if you ever planned on returning. that is if the winchester’s didn’t kill you first.

and that was a question you’d ask yourself nearly every passing minute over the sound of your ipod on the radio. what exactly did they want? what did they know. how did they know. what did they plan to do with that knowledge.

you’d have to keep running.

you fall asleep to a fleetwood mac song on the radio.

and wake up to your name being called.

your eyes shoot open before your body makes any other sign of moving. wide eyed. with two bodies standing behind you as you curled on the mattress of your motel room. even blinking felt like it was too loud, and you wondered if they could hear the sound of your heart just hammering against your ribs. your breathing slows, it feels too loud to breathe as if you haven’t been caught already.

“we know you’re awake.”

you push an arm under you to sit up, back still turned to the boys. you ponder the possibility of them holding weapons to you, so you make no sudden movements.

you turn over slowly, sitting in the bed now instead of laying down. the room is cold from the door being opened only a second ago. you raise your eye line to the winchester’s.

both tall. the one with shorter hair has a gun in hand though not pointed to you. the taller one has a soft brow - he was good cop. they have cut eyes on you.

“we don’t want to hurt you.”

“why have you been following me.” the question you’ve wondering yourself for weeks now.

“i’m sam,” he thumbs to the one holding the gun. “this is dean.”

“you already know why we’ve been following you.” the shorter one says.

“what do you want with me then.” it’s like your spirit has wilted. they can see the heaviness under your eyes and the minimal acts of comfort you enact on yourself to soothe the anxiety.

“we know about micheal.” sam breaks the ice, and that familiar hot feeling washes over your skin every time you hear the mention of micheal’s name. almost like he was watching you, like he was in the room with you.

“it wasn’t my choice.”

“it wasn’t mine either.”

you hadn’t realized your eyes had fallen but you meet sam’s gaze again with a mended brow and a look of confusion. had this happened to him too?

“not with micheal but,,, a demon.”

your expression falters and you adjust your sitting on the bed. “you have demon blood in you?” it’s a whisper almost.

he nods, you see he doesn’t like talking about it. and dean has this tense jaw and fixed tough expression.

“we wanted to find you. we have no clue if micheal has done this to others and with the apocalypse coming,”

“dean is micheal’s vessel for the apocalypse.”

“way to keep it under wraps hot shot.” dean tucks his gun away in his jacket and sam asks a defensive ‘what?’

“if you guys were following me in hopes of some kind of connection between me and micheal and dean being his supposed vessel, i have nothing for you. i don’t know why this happened to me or why i was chosen. i do know that i don’t like it. angel’s have egos and we’re like their pawns.”

“it’s only them.” a third voice, now behind you as you face the boys in front of you. you whip your head around to find a dark haired man in a tan trench coat, rounding your vision to stand closer.

“you’re an angel.”

in your sights you see the heavenly glow only a person with angel blood could see. a fraction of his true form as it seeps from his vessel. he was heavenly - the energy soothing and enough almost to bring tears to your eyes as you watch him with wonder.

“this is castiel, he is an angel and he’s helping us. we want-” sam pauses, you look up at him and for a split second he can see that blue glow in your eyes. “we want to help you. we want to help each other. we need a way to win the apocalypse.”

you fold your legs under the cover of the duvet, teeth finding the inside of your cheek.

you were raised to fight - that much you were comfortable with in terms of skill. hunting was different. a life on the road seemed fine enough, you always wanted to see the states and the world outside of nebraska but, the idea of taking on the apocalypse with limited knowledge on what laid dormant inside you for so long, seemed far fetched and quite frankly impossible.

“guys,” your hand finds your brow. “i can fight. that much i know. what i don’t know is why i was chosen or what even i could do with whatever is inside me.”

“we have an angel.” dean speaks up.

you look from him to castiel who has little expression beside the fact that he appears tired as ever. the apocalypse probably has done more on him than you realize.

“come with us. leave this behind for now, you are more powerful than you realize.” when sam spoke it felt like something was coming through him to do so. like emotion was pouring from him and he so badly wanted you to believe him, to trust them. to fight in this war with the prospect of winning. he had hope in him, one you sometimes saw in yourself.

“we don’t ask people to join us.” dean speaks up next to him. his gaze is cut, face hardened. “we could use the help.” he nods as if the words were hard to say. he wasn’t the type to let people in. in many ways he was an open book an others he was shut and locked so tight. this much have been hard for them. this much you could understand and reason with.

you look between all three of them for a moment before clearing your throat. “alright then.”

“where do we begin.”

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x gn!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fluff #supernatural hurt comfort #dean winchester #spn #castiel

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years ago

Text

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, under the influence, self hatred, complicated family relationships, depersonalisation/derealisation, depression, alternative universe, implications of su-cide, semi su-cide attempt, su-cidal!reader, mentions of bl-od and injury, mentions of k-dnapping and murder, alcoholism, mentions of selfh-rm, mentions of knifes, gaslighting, smoking, mentions of weapons, mentions of pregnancies, a bunch of crying, fainting, toxic masculinity.

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; piv, protected sex (use of condom), missionary, dry humping, nicknames, sex in semi-public place, fingering, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum,,,, other then that it’s kinda vanilla.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 14.3 k

O N E ｜ T W O

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

[FEEL SOMETHING DIFFERENT - Bea Miller, Aminè]

[Multi-Love - Unknown Mortal Orchestra]

[Beach Baby - Bon Iver]

[High Enough - K.Flay]

[Dope Lovers - DPR IAN]

[Make Out in My Car ; Sufjan Stevens Version - Sufjan Stevens]

[I Feel it Coming ; The weekend, Daft Punk]

[Space Song ; Beach House] (ah the loml and the album is called depression cherry so it makes me happy)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 ; 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

“Let me out!! LET ME OUT!”

You cry out, banging on the heavy wooden door until your knuckles bruise, red marks leaving their traces on your soft skin. The only lightsource is the tiny cell window, sun shining brightly and illuminating thousands of dust specks, floating around you like your lost hopes. The grey cement walls got closer and closer, seconds ticking in your head like a clock.

This is it.

This is how you die.

Crushed to death like a bug, your ambitions never getting their chance to prove themselves. All that you ever wanted to achieve was an impossibility as you were slowly but surely pressed together in the ever shrinking room.

Salty tears roll down your cheek, a feeling of hopelessness washing over you as you turn your back against the door, sliding down to your feet, banging the back of your head lightly against the entrance.

You feel the rough walls hitting both sides of your forearms, a last ear deafening scream leaving your parted lips.

Until you woke up.

With a series of jerking motions you sit up, panting like you just ran a marathon, the pounding of your heart audible to you. Darkness swallowed you as the night progressed, you considering yourself lucky to find yourself in your comfortable bed, still in your room.

Only after minutes do you notice your wet cheeks, the tears not being limited to your dream world. You blink, your coated eyelashes weighing heavy on your eyelids as you wipe tears with the back of your hand. The shock from your dream didn’t reside, you now being too afraid to fall back on your plushy pillow, fearful of what horrible dreams awaited you on the other side.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, immediately being hit with a bright light causing you to squint and turn away momentarily.

[Search: being crushed dream meaning]

Multiple articles from all sorts of sketchy websites popped up, you clicking on the first one.

“Stress or emotionally overwhelmed”

You laugh lazily, the dream making sense as you feel yourself slipping back into a peaceful slumber, phone still in hand as the muscles in your face relax, jaw opening, your dream world once again inviting you for a dance.

The sun woke you up with it’s radiant rays shining in your face, the closed blinds barely able to withstand them. Your phone was lying on the floor face down, you must have dropped it while sleeping you thought before rubbing your eyes from any dirt and staring up at the ceiling.

Another day

Another day that I’m here.

You wish you could pull the covers over your head, get lost in your own mind and never deal with the outside world ever again. But you had to.

You picked up your phone from the dusty floor that hadn’t been cleaned for weeks, you simply didn’t have the motivation to do it. The bright phone screen awaked you, you blinked your eyes a couple of times to see clearer.

[3 Missed Calls - Mom]

You couldn’t be bothered to call her back. She was only gonna nag at you for not calling back earlier, wondering what you’ve been up to now that you’ve been fired from your job as a receptionist at the local hotel. What were you gonna say? Drinking too much booze and crying yourself to sleep every night? You couldn’t, that would only hurt her.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

You got up, legs wobbling as you stumbled to the bathroom, head pounding from the amount of alcohol you consumed the night prior. Not with friends but alone, in your living room, in the one room apartment you no longer could afford.

Ice cold water splashed onto your sweaty face, that being the only hygiene you could muster today. You turned the tap off, grabbing a towel and wiping your face and looking deep into your own eyes.

That’s not me.

That’s not me looking back.

You poked your tongue out, hoping the figure in the mirror wouldn’t move and you could confirm your thoughts but alas the figure followed you. You felt crazy, it was as if you’ve died a long time ago but still saw everything that happened. You could stick your hand through a wall and it would disappear you thought, nothing was real. Not even you.

You entered your mess of a living room, seeing the wreck from yesterday night. Countless green glass bottles scattered on the table in front of the tv that was your only escape from reality. Blankets and pillows were thrown across the floor along with a box of tissues, your emotions bubbling up to the surface too often resulting in you crying and shaking on the floor, a feeling of fear washing over you late at night.

You felt alone.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, why were you so ungrateful? You had everything. A roof over your head, a family that loves you, friends, food on the table. Yet, even this couldn’t satisfy you. You blamed yourself for everything.

For your work firing you.

For your parents divorcing.

For your own pathetic life.

You shook your head as if you were shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, instead grabbing a couple of the empty bottles that were reeking with the scent of liquor and placing them on the kitchen counter. ‘Cleaning up’ in your eyes.

With a thump your back landed against the couch that swallowed you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace you got from no other person or object. This was your safe space you thought but not even your couch could save you from your intrusive reasonings. With a light click on the remote the tv screen lit up, your eyes still not used to the brightness since you’re always cooped up in your apartment where the blinds were always closed, another barrier between you and reality.

Nature documentaries, your favorite.

The calming male voice of the narrator being the only one you talked to during your lonely days. The animals could make you forget. They lived so freely, moving wherever they wanted without a care in the world, either swimming, hopping or flying. You wish you were born as another animal than human.

“The 52-hertz whale travels an astonishing 70 km a day but it’s voyage doesn’t bring social interactions. This whale is the loneliest whale in the world. It’s the only whale that is capable of emitting a whale call at such frequency, no other individuals communicating with the poor creature.”

You sat up in curiosity. It was a scream for help you thought. The whale needed help, it needed someone or something.

Just like you.

You sighed, watching the lonely whale on your tv screen, seeing it’s gracious movements despite its size. It did look lonely in that deep dark sea, wondering how it would be to fall into the abyss of water, swallowing you whole and erasing the life that once sparked your soul.

This was where you spent your entire days. The clock on the wall is ticking but the digits it displayed are oblivious to you. What did it matter if it was 5 pm or 1 am? You were still not gonna budge from your comforting seat on the couch. Drinking your feelings away no matter what time in the day.

This was you.

This was who you had become.

The sun started to set on the horizon, a delicate shade of light purple descending over it, covering the end of the world like the way a canopy covers the softness of a bed. You sigh, diverting your focus back on the tv screen after momentarily observing the life outside your window. Yet again, nature documentaries accompanied by the soft male voice, narrating every movement of the colibri that fluttered it’s wings at the speed of light on your screen in vivid colors.

You got that look in your eyes. That look of amazement which you now only had when looking at the beautiful colors of a exotic bird. You moved closer to the tv screen in the now dark living room, the sun setting at a fast pace. It reminded you of the many times your mom shouted at you to not sit so close to the screen, scaring you by saying that you’d get rectangular eyes.

Your childhood.

The only time you felt ease.

The only time your family was as one.

“y/n, what does your heart look like?” the therapist asked, scribbling mindlessly on a notepad.

“it’s a muscle that pumps blo-” you started but were quickly cut off.

“no, I mean what does your heart look like, how does it feel?”

You sighed, looking down at the grey marbled floor, your legs shaking in nervousness. You hesitated before speaking, scrambling in your mind to say something sensible before the words came pouring out of you.

“i-it looks like a house. A dark, empty house,,, but it’s comforting.”

Once again you heard the sound of a pencil writing incoherent sentences. Curious as to know what secrets were on that piece of A5-paper.

“is there anyone in the house with you?” the therapist inquired.

You shook your head before speaking.

“I don’t want to let anyone in, this is my safe space” you say, almost setting up an emotional barrier, not wanting to answer further questions.

The person sitting across from you hummed as you stared out the window behind them, the green ivy bushes already grown tall enough to cover half of the grimy window.

“is the house empty?” they asked to which you shook your head once again, avoiding the glassy-eyed stare of the therapist.

“no,,, there are dusty furniture covered in white cloths and-,,, and family photos in the drawers.”

“is it your family?”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“How did you end up here?”

You thought for a second, puffing out your cheeks, a habit of yours. You searched for a reason but not finding any.

“I just,,, was here one day.”

“The sun never shines here.” you added after a solid 30 seconds of silence.

You were stuck in that house.

The house that was once filled with happy memories of another family, you simply a ghost that was now trying to fit the broken pieces together, wanting desperately to see them smiling again.

Tears started forming in your eyes, a shiny gloss over your orbs.

But you never cried.

Not in front of others.

You thought often about that visit. Why your heart was an desolate house and why the words spilled out of you like a poisonous liquid.

You closed your eyes, the bright colors fluttering behind your eyelids as the comforting sounds of the woods blasted from the tv.

You wish you could be somewhere else.

Anywhere but here.

A single tear rolled down your cheek as a smile creeped up on your face, your butt against the floor as your knees were underneath your chin, your entire figure curled up into a small ball.

You sighed as your eyes fluttered open again. You were still here, in your apartment that smelled like nothing but alcohol and disappointment.

Firmly planting both your hands on the wooden floor you heaved yourself up with the intention of getting more tissues, the blue colored tissue box on the floor being as empty as others expectations of you.

But as you stood up the entire room started spinning, small specks of rainbow flashing by your eyes. You thought you stood up to quickly grabbing onto the wall for a second before collapsing against it, your entire body shaking. You cried louder, thinking you were about to pass out. Your hair stuck to your tear stained cheek as your puffy eyes closed once again.

What was happening?

The rain hit your unconscious body, your knees scraped from the concrete you lied on. You were soaked from head to toe, lying with your cheek against the ground in a puddle of rain. You woke up from your head pounding, your bloody knees only gaining your attention after you’ve looked around in a confused daze.

It was empty. An alleyway in the dark night. You found yourself panicked, anxiety bubbling inside of you. That’s when you saw it. A single street light above a red phone booth. You tried to stand up but fell over again as your legs could barely hold you up, now scraping your elbow against the gritty ground.

Crying out, you started shouting for help.

“HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs, voice cracking as your tears started to look identical to the rain that was pouring over your cold, helpless body. Nobody came, your voice only echoing against the wall that the phone booth stood near to.

You got on all fours, crawling towards the light as pure pain shot through your body, small pebbles jabbing into the open wounds on your knees. You needed shield from the rain. Desperate huffs and groans escaping your parted lips as you dragged yourself through small puddles, the phonebooth seemingly getting further and further away from you. Looking through the soaked curtains that was your hair you were determined, this was life or death you thought as you continued to shout out for help, it appeared to be useless since the only other sound besides your own voice was the rain hitting the ground.

Shivering hands grabbed onto the corner of the crimson red phonebooth, the streetlight illuminating your teary eyes. You held onto that frigid and wet piece of metal as if you were holding onto a treasure.

As if you won a race.

As if you pleased your parents.

You looked up, dragging the inner side of your leg against the concrete, your pyjama pants wet to the bone. Desperately you got yourself together, your arms shaking as the rough pads of your hands met the ground, pushing yourself up into a standing position. You hissed at the pain in your knees as you grabbed onto the metal handle that opened the phonebooth, stepping inside.

The inside was surprisingly warm, as if someone had been there moments prior. A ripped piece of paper was taped on the glass pane to the right of the payphone, something that seemed like a phone number but could impossibly be since it wasn’t a full number.

[1800-xxx]

You looked at the payphone and then back at the washed out paper, the edges of the note curling and stained with yellow. Only when you looked back at the phone again did you notice the keypad. To your surprise there was an “x” button. Your head felt heavy, deciding to lean it against the other side of the stuffy phone booth, your hot breath creating steam on the glass.

You wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

Your entire body ached, let alone the blood that was dripping down your leg. The rusty payphone connected to the actual phone, a black handle connected to the underside of the machinery by a coiled metal rope. You picked up the phone, putting it against your ear and groaned when you remembered that you needed coins in order for the payphone to work

[0.5 gold/minute]

You rubbed your eyes. Gold? You sighed loudly, your knees barely being able to hold your weary body any longer. Hesitant fingers pressed the number that was jot down on the lined note, pressing each key accordingly. You pressed the last x before you pressed the “call” button, not expecting anything to happen.

But after a few seconds a female automated voice spoke to you.

“Thank you for calling. This place only appears to the suffering. If you are receiving this call, congratulations! Your prayers have been answered. Drink the liquid in the paper cup above this payphone. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice lagged, a static sound accompanying the automated voice. Your breath got shaky as you looked around, holding the phone close to your ear with both hands. This could only be some sort of kidnapping scheme or this was a sick dream.

“It’s a dream, y/n. Calm down, nothing's gonna hurt you.”

You muttered to yourself, pinching your forearm tightly and wincing from pain. This wasn’t a dream after all.

Your gaze landed on the brown paper cup that was balancing delicately on top of the payphone, your cracking knuckles reaching for it as you let the phone fall out of your grasp, being caught mere inches from the sticky floor of the photobooth by the coil. Bringing the cup closer to your face you saw a dark viscous liquid that smelled sweet enough to sting your nose. Your face contorted into disgust, debating on whether not to drink the contents of the paper cup.

“Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid. Drink the liquid.”

The voice continued ringing in your ears. You had nothing to lose. If you died then you at least got what you wanted. Holding your breath, you brought the cup closer to your quivering lips, parting them slightly as you held your nose tightly, not wanting to feel whatever horrible taste could be found in that dark pit of goo.

It burned the moment it hit the delicate taste buds on your tongue, your voice muffled as the fluid descended down your throat, your larynx bobbing up and down with each gulp. Despite covering your nose you could taste the pungent sweetness, it tasted like pure acid. Not that you knew what that tasted like but what you assumed it would.

You coughed, accidentally spilling some of the goo on the floor, dribbling out of your mouth. The heavy rain pitter-pattered against the metal roof above your head, your eyelids threatening to shut. The cup fell out of your hand as you slammed your forehead against the payphone, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to bruise. Your jawbone hurt from how much you’d been crying, eyes puffy as the salty tears mixed with the rain droplets on your face.

“i-i’m sorry mom, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You rolled your forehead left to right against the rusty material of the payphone, your soaked hair covering your empty eyes. Your knees bent under you causing you to fall on your butt with your knees clinking against each other, the sticky contents on the floor sticking to the soft fabric of your pants.

“I’M SO SORRY!”

You never thought a scream this loud could protrude its way out of your throat, the vibrations bouncing off the glass that to your surprise didn’t break. Everything started to become shades darker, almost as if a black and white filter settled over your vision.

No, this is how you’re gonna die.

Alone.

In the rain.

“Hyung, what are you gonna do with her?”

Muffled club music struck your ear along with a high pitched ringing, your eyelids felt as heavy as they’d been in the phonebooth. With your head pounding you slowly open your eyes, first not seeing anything but darkness before eight unknown men form a circle around you, hovering above you.

You shoot up from your lying position, fear overtaking your body. Where were you but more importantly why the fuck were you alone in a dark room with 8 young men? Not thinking straight, you decided to scream once again, thinking they would back off and let you be.

“Get away from me!!”

The males covered their ears, groaning in pain and a blonde boy throwing himself on the floor, rolling around.

“HEY!! HEY! WE’RE NOT GONNA HURT YOU!”

A strong voice overpowered yours, every word almost sounding like a grunt. You around, seeing that you were sitting on a soft leather couch before looking up at the male that was standing right infront of you. He was muscular, his biceps sitting snugly in the tight black t-shirt that covered him, a grey apron tied around his waist and his dark hair shielding his intense gaze and furrowed eyebrows. He had a jaw so sharp you could cut silence with it but silence was the last thing this room had. The boys were shouting at each other, trying to hush the others while screaming themselves.

“SHUT UP!!”

The room got quiet as the muscular guy roared, the seven other individuals coming to a halt. You looked at them all with a puzzled expression, all of them handsome, a fact you couldn’t deny.

“Where the fuck am I, who are you guys and p-please don’t kill me”

Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence as your eyes twinkled, tears teasing the corners of your eyes, fingers shaking in fear. The male closest to you sat down, the weight of the couch shifting. He rubbed his hand together before he started speaking in a calmer voice.

“I’m Changbin, bartender of the Lost Souls nightclub. That’s Chan, security guard.”

With his chin, he pointed at a guy in ripped black jeans with a white t-shirt, a sweatband across his forehead, pushing his slightly curly hair back. He didn’t look like a security guard, the only thing that might have pointed to that was the walkie-talkie hanging from his belt. You nodded before Changbin continued.

“And those are some friends, frequent visitors if you will.”

A light haired boy with shiny rhinestones under his eyes stepped forward after he’d been hugging the tallest guy in the room the entire time.

“u-uhm, the name’s Felix! This is Hyunjin, Seungmin, Jeongin, Jisung and Minho, and yeah those two, Chan and Changbin.”

He pointed at each guy respectively and the room filled with small “hi’s” and smiles. They didn’t look threatening, all of them being very timid and looking down at the ground. Your gaze diverted back to Changbin that was staring at you the entire time.

“Can somebody tell me where I am?”

Changbin cleared his throat, stomping his boot a couple of times.

“This is gonna sound,,, interesting but you have to believe me-”

You interrupted the muscular boy, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that it had dried.

“Why should I believe you? We’ve just met?”

Changbin sighed.

“Just,,, hear me out”. You nodded before he continued.

“You answered a phone call right?”

Nodding once again your gaze drifted towards the other boys that were looking at Changbin with googly eyes.

“Well,,, this place only appears to those who are,,, struggling with themselves. Obviously you don’t have to tell us why you’re here but,,, this is a place to let go. The only rule here is no fighting”

“Or dancing on the tables” the tall blonde boy added with a snark causing a squirrel-like boy to giggle, playfully hitting the blonde before looking at Chan who glared back at him, the boy being flustered and turning serious again. Jisung, his name was.

“W-what did that phonebooth do,,, does everyone go through that?” you asked with a curious tone.

“Usually it’s a pleasant experience going in that phonebooth, the sun shining and people hanging around that alleyway before taking the phonecall and drinking the elixir,,, there must have been a glitch in the system.”

He sounded unsure, scratching the back of his head as he looked at all of the boys.

“System? What system? I’m dreaming, right?” you said in panic, wanting to get out of this oddly suffocating room.

“W-we are real and you’re not dreaming,,, it’s just that, we can’t meet in real life you know? This is a place to,,, let oneself go and I know it’s scary since you only get here randomly, it must have been hard passing out like that,,”

A boy with fluffy light brown hair and a pretty eye smile said, Seungmin! You remembered his name because you thought it fitted him, sounding both soft and sharp at the same time.

“y-yeah,,, it was scary b-but thank you for caring about me” you said with a half smile

“oh! and also, we treated all your wounds, luckily you were passed out so you couldn’t feel the pain but let me tell you,,, it looked awful, I don’t understand how you did that Chan” Jisung remarked with wide eyes, looking at you concerned before turning to Chan.

“Did what?” you inquired to which Jisung responded.

“Removing the pebbles in your wounds, h-how did you even get those in there?” he asked to which you tried to remember, seeing hazed memories of you crawling on the asphalt in the storming rain.

“I was crawling towards the phone booth'' you said quietly as the boys gazed at you with concern. The atmosphere got dusked and in an attempt to lift the mood you cleared your throat, lightly running your hands over the bandaids that were plastered on your scraped knees, wincing from the contact.

Changbin made eye contact with Chan, jerking his head towards the door to signal for him and the other boys to leave the room. Chan nodded and patted Jeongin on the shoulder, trying to scoot all the boys out of the room like a shepherd leading a bunch of silent sheep.

“Let’s have some fun! Drinks on me boys~” Chan exclaimed to get the boys off their worried thoughts about you, the curly haired male closed the door quietly and both you and Changbin stayed silent until the footsteps were faint on the other side of the black wooden door.

“Is this better?” Changbin said with a slight smile at the end. “They can be quite the bunch sometimes, either they’re very much off the deep end or they’re just a rowdy mess” he laughs, looking out in the distance before he looks at you with your knees under your chin, holding your legs close to your body.

“So,,, we’re all here for similar reasons?” you mumbled, holding your gaze stable on his dark eyes.

“yeah,,, pretty much. We’ve all dealt with something mentally draining and of course you don’t have to tell but I just want you to know that nothing will hurt you here.” Changbin replied.

“I do want to tell,,, but it’s just that I don’t want to be alone about it. I’ve never been around people that have shared the same experiences.”

Changbin slid closer to you on the couch, putting one leg over the other.

“It’s like that for,,, almost every single individual in the club, we all want to tell our stories and this is the place to do it. No one is gonna judge you for it. I remember thinking that when I first got here, ‘everyone is gonna judge me for not drinking’.”

Changbin’s last sentence caught your attention.

“but aren’t you the bartender? shouldn’t you know all the,,, liquors and such?”

Changbin sighed and you regretted you sentence, thinking that maybe you asked a too personal question.

“I do know them but not in the way one should.”

Something clicked in your head when the boy uttered those words. You nodded silently, letting your gaze fall to your wounded knees as your shaky voice spoke;

“So do I”

Changbin’s gaze was fixated on the floor as he shared what was on his mind.

“But no one judged me,,, eh,,, I never asked for your name!” the boy said to which you giggled, reassuring Changbin that you were in a stable state.

“It’s y/n, nice to meet you!” you said, stretching your hand forward to shake his. Changbin smiled towards your gesture.

“pretty name, angel” he said, shaking your hand and noticing how small it was in his grasp, the cold metal of his rings contrasting to your now warm hands. He didn’t let go immediately, instead holding your hand and feeling it’s warm temperature, running his thumb across your knuckles softly. You snarked at his comment.

“angel? didn’t know we had established pet names for each other in barely 10 minutes of meeting.”

“and I didn’t know angels landed in this place” he said back. “i’ve had to deal with 7 annoying boys that never listen to me,,, well, 8 but one of them,,, disappeared.”

You nodded, not wanting to overstep any boundaries by asking about that 8th guy incase it was an emotional topic.

“how is it? working with alcohol despite having quite a rocky relationship to it?”

The buff boy hummed, drumming his fingers on the seat next to him.

“It’s better than one might think. I get to be around it without engaging in the activity myself, simply serving clients and the boys already know it, we look out for each other. Like a family you know!” Changbin said with a happy tone, not wanting the conversation to get you in a bad mood after all you’ve been through that night.

“family,,, could use one of those” you joked and Changbin actually laughed which you’ve never felt with anyone before, the only response you usually got was your therapist writing down your self deprecating jokes with their orange lead pencil.

“you’re always welcome to us” he said, letting go of your hand that now felt empty. You felt safe. There was no way of describing it but you felt this caring aura around this man, drawing you closer to him.

“how long does this last? i’m guessing you go back to ‘the real world’ again at some point” you spoke, making quotation marks with your hands.

“it depends, it’s different every time but you will pass out just like you did when you got here but you won’t go back to the phone booth, you’ll wake up where you were last in real life. Time goes on in the real world but here,,, clocks don’t really work. We’ve tried bringing clocks or phones with us but the digits don’t change.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This had to be a dream.

“w-whats with the gold on the phone? Does money exist in this,,, universe?” you asked with confusion to which Changbin shook his head.

“no, drinks are free and so are the phone calls, i have no idea why the phone booth says that or why Chan said that drinks are on him, he must have been stressed trying to get the boys out of here” Changbin said to which you giggled.

“i-is there any time where you never return?” you asked, earning a bittersweet smile from the male.

“yeah,,, if those issues you have get resolved but,, that rarely happens. Destructive behaviours feed of each other. Get rid of one and it gets replaced with another.”

You recognised that. It was always something, you could never live in peace without feeling the need to self sabotage.

“Poor innie knows that too well” he added with an acerbic tone.

“innie?” you tilted your head in question, gazing around the dark room that was rather empty, only a couple of dark colored shelves on the wall and the couch you were sitting on along with the ceiling lamp that was stingy with it’s light.

“Jeongin, the youngest among us. Poor boy has been through it all, if it’s not drugs it’s self harm and Minho is a real dick sometimes, bringing pocket knives in “defense”. He’s delusional, thinking everyone is out to get him and Jeongin knows this. We’ve found our precious little boy in the bathroom too many times, holding those stupid knifes Minho keeps having on him and crying till his cheeks puff up.”

You took a mental note to keep your distance from Minho, feeling bad for Changbin that had to be amidst this mess while dealing with his own emotions. You could relate, being the emotional pillar between your parents that hated each other to the brink of physical violence. There’s always someone that has to suffer because of other people's problems.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Changbin.” you managed to stutter out, not knowing what else to add to the conversation.

“Ah,,, don’t be, y/n! Just take good care of yourself, that’s what matters the most to me” Changbin said. You smiled, moving closer and hovered your hand above his shoulder.

“Can I?” you asked quietly to which Changbin nodded and moments later felt your warm hand patting his back. He felt listened to. Understood. And even though he was yet to tell you his entire life story he knew that you were different from the others. You actually cared about him.

The room started spinning again and you clutched onto Changbin’s black t-shirt, trying to stabilize yourself. Those rainbow colored speckles you had seen earlier appeared again, vision blurring right in front of your eyes.

“y/n? how are you?” Changbin’s voice was worried but he knew what was happening.

“it’s spinning again, I t-think I’m gonna pass,,, out” you muttered,

“It’s alright y/n, I’m here yeah?” His rough voice distinguished itself from his comforting words as you held onto the dark haired boy, a faint smell of tobacco interlacing with the air you breathed in through your nose. Your two arms were now wrapped around the male with your face against his broad shoulder, eyes shutting as tightly as they could, face contorting into fear until everything disappeared. The vague beats of the music. The pain that ached from your knees. The feeling of finally finding home in someone's arms.

Everything turned into nothing in Changbin’s embrace. You were slowly turning into his everything because he had nothing in his life.

And then you woke up.

You gasped for air as you woke up in panic, hunching over on the floor in a coughing fit, clawing at your neck for oxygen. Panting on the floor you put your forehead against the wooden laminated floorboards, your frizzy hair blocking out the little light that was in the apartment and being hit with the malodorous smell of distilled alcohol.

What was that?

You were convinced that it was some kind of wicked dream. An escape from reality even. But as Changbin said, you did wake up in the exact same place and position you passed out in. A long breath seized through your lungs as you shifted in your position on the floor.

“Son of a bitch!”

Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as the hard floor hit your wounded knees. You quickly sat down on your butt, lifting your knees up to your chin and only then did your heart drop.

It wasn’t a dream. Your eyes lingered on the bandaids that were placed with the utmost care across your both knees, a stain of dark brown blood seeping through the sticky elastic material and dried blood staining your knees in a haphazard attempt of somebody trying to wipe it off without hurting you. You managed to grab the edge of the sofa, levering yourself up with, testing out the strength left in your wobbly legs. Your phone lit up, sitting on the place you’re usually curled up in. Throwing yourself on the soft piece of furniture you observed the phone screen, lost eyes wandering mindlessly over the brightly lit display.

What you noticed wasn’t the worried text from your mother.

It was the fact that the digits hadn’t changed from when you passed out.

Your head snapped towards the tv screen and the phone fell from your hand when you stared at the screen, breath trembling.

The same documentary. The same colibri.

This couldn’t be. Surely you hadn’t just stopped time,,, right? This was not something Changbin warned you about. How long until you meet Changbin again? An hour,,, or ever?

There was nothing else you could do besides wait. Wait until the next time you pass out. And what better way to make time pass but to be confronted by your mother? You pulled up the text on your phone and read it hastily before scoffing.

[Are you eating well? Please call if you see this]

Since when did she care about you? You knew that she did care. Somewhere deep inside her motherly heart she did care but the way she displayed that so-called ‘affection’ didn’t make it obvious. You tried to justify every word, believing all the lies she fed you. You tried so hard to believe that you were healthy, that your mental health wasn’t deteriorating before the eyes of your very own mother that was refusing to see the truth. That her child was indeed in pain. You couldn’t blame her, it was her way of dealing with the issue but it didn’t make it easier for you. Your thumbs hovered above the keyboard, you couldn't think of anything better to write and quickly typed it down before you hit send.

[yes, i’m busy]

Busy contemplating your existence. Your father wasn’t exactly any better. Throwing out each one of your family members until there was only him left. He had no trouble filling that emptiness, simply creating a new family and forgetting you as if you were a chapter of the book called ‘previous life’. You didn’t mind, not after everything he did to you and your mother. There was no need for a person like that in your life but unfortunately it influenced you more than you thought, always seeking validation in either work or relationships because how could you validate yourself after your self esteem had been crushed by this tyrant?

You threw your phone on the table, a clink noise being heard as it hit a bottle, knocking it over but not breaking it. Your parental issues or mental health was for once not the biggest concern in your life, now instead wanting to search for the answers that could explain the nightclub. How did it exist? What caused it to exist and who was behind it? You needed to get back there somehow.

The tv had turned off by itself, you found yourself waking up on the couch, using a pillow as a blanket, hugging the warm material closer to your body as you whined. With confused and lost eyes you scanned the room for a clock, hitting the table a couple of times and finally getting your hands on your phone, bringing it closer to your eyes.

[3:02 am] the digits lit up. You rubbed your tired eyes with your left hand, throwing the pillow on the floor and using the phone display as a torch in the pitch dark room. There was no point in falling asleep again, you had already slept so many hours, sleeping anymore would only make you drowsy the entire next day. You yawned as you staggered towards the bathroom, flicking the lightswitch on the wall and squinting fiercely as you were blinded by the harsh bathroom ceiling light. You put the phone down and quickly caught your reflection in the mirror before you sat down on the toilet to pee, folding a couple of sheets toilet paper in your hand. You yawned again as you flushed, going to wash your hands but once again being amused by your reflection.

That’s not me.

It’s the person I’ve become but never wanted to be.

Your dark circles almost reached your cheekbones, the wounds on your knees still stinging even after hours of peaceful slumber. You poked your tongue out to which the reflection did the same, staring back at you with frizzy hair and puffy eyes from tears. You couldn’t trust it. Mirrors lie you thought and so does every single reflective surface in the entire world. You would never know what you truly looked like and that ignited panic in you, feeling your breath rapidly increasing as you held onto the white cold edge of the bathroom sink.

This happened. Too often. It was the feeling of not knowing yourself or your surroundings. Like you had just appeared in this world, scared and alone. To not know who you are and having to live with yourself til the day you die frightened you. But you didn’t know if death was any better. Sure, the thought was comforting but being buried under layers of soil, having flowers and insects living their best life above you as you simply rotted away wasn’t the solution to all your worries although a moment of eternal peace did sound tempting.

You felt a lump in your throat, trying to cough as if it was some sort of anxiety flem when in reality it was your brain setting up imaginary barricades. Your hair draped in front of your face and with furious eyes you peeked up, seeing your almost demon-like expression and smiling psychotically.

I hate you.

I fucking hate you, y/n l/n.

Your smile was wiped off the moment the room started spinning. Your reflection becomes diffuse in the mirror as if it wasn’t enough not recognising it. A loud gulp made its way down your esophagus as you continued staring at yourself in disgust. You blinked slowly, every time you closed your eyes you saw those rainbow colored specks all around, almost as if they were distracting you from what was happening, like a kaleidoscope for a child. You felt as if the ground started shaking, an earthquake in your personal world that was separated from the real one. Maybe you were going back to the nightclub, to Changbin’s reassuring arms or maybe you we’re really going crazy this time. The specks got bigger, turning into elaborate patterns in neon colors that clouded your vision. You kept eye contact with your reflection for what seemed like forever, despising the person that was staring back, your gaze broken as your eyes rolled back in your skull, your eyes white as if you’d been hexed before you collapsed on the frigid bathroom floor.

“y/n? y/n, wake up!”

The sun dazed your eyes as you woke up on the slightly toasty concrete. Changbin tilted his head as a cigarette was hanging out the corner of his mouth, bright sunlight behind him. He had on a jean jacket with patches from several underground punk and rock bands, his neck was embellished with multiple silver chains and his hair was slicked back, glistening in the heat. He knocked the wind out of you even more, as if passing out in the bathroom wasn’t enough torture.

“oh y/n! you’re awake!”

Chan says, coming closer to you, this time he’s wearing a tanktop that showed off his flawless abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You only then remembered that you looked like a mess, still in your pyjamas that consisted of an old sports event t-shirt and small basketball shorts.

“a-am i in the club again?” you say, rubbing your eyes with both hands before feeling your head pounding a bit, sitting up slowly and feeling the harsh ground beneath you.

“no! you’re at the phone booth, everyone is here now oh and, this is usual how it’s supposed to look.”

After your vision stops blurring you look around, seeing the same alleyway and the same crimson phone booth but being hit with a completely different atmosphere. People were standing in all types of fancy clothes, trendy bright colors, exaggerated makeup and 7 inch platforms. The sun was beaming, it felt like a hot summer day with friends, just like the old days back when you had friends.

“why does y/n always wear pyjamas? don’t you have any cool clothes?” Hyunjin snarks, pushing his blonde hair behind his ears, displaying his dangly silver and black earrings.

“knock it off asshat, the poor girl is probably scared off her mind” Seungmin sneaks up behind the blonde, punching him lightly in the stomach before he smiles sweetly at you. Duality was this man's second name.

“t-thank you seungmin” you said, giving a smile back but being met with a surprised facial expression.

“you remembered my name!” he said, giggling adorably. You gave a small nod before you looked back at Changbin that was drawing a breath from the cigarette, puffing out a white cloud close to your face before waving it away. You noticed how tired Changbin looked, his cheekbones sunken in and his complexion bleak. He stretched out his hand to help you up which you grabbed, the insides between his pointer and ring finger being slightly stained orange from tobacco. You wobbled up on your feet, knees slightly unstable but feeling better from sitting down a while.

“are you alright y/n? i could open that resting room if you want” he said before inhaling smoke once again, spreading in his mouth and intoxicating him. You shook your head.

“i want to see the club, why not while we’re there you know?” you said, smiling brightly and making his heart jump. Changbin hid the grin he so desperately wanted to display by dropping the cigarette bud on the concrete, stepping on it with his heavy boots that had chain details attached.

“alright, whatever you want angel” Changbin sneered which caught the attention of the 7 other boys, all staring at the jean-jacketed boy.

“angel? seems like someone has a crush” Hyunjin remarked making Jisung burst out in laughter.

“says master heartbreaker” Chan said under his breath making Hyunjin furrow his eyebrows, diverting his gaze from Changbin to Chan instead.

“come on you guys! can we not go to the club already?” Felix said, him also wearing a crop top along with a leather chest harness that accentuated his figure. Jisung nodded and made his way towards the phone booth that had droplets of steam on the inside, Felix and Hyunjin following shortly after the squirrel-like boy. You observed the alleyway. People leaning against the grey wall where the phone booth was, either smoking or chatting. Some were standing, others sitting down directly on the concrete, feeling the same heat you felt as you woke up.

With unstable steps you walked towards the phone booth behind all the boys, Changbin staying by your side and waving his hands towards the 7 boys that had somehow crammed into the humid and stuffy metal building, Chan closing the glassdoor as a couple of the boys giggled. You and Changbin stood on the other side of the door, seeing how Chan grabbed the black phone you had once held with cold dirty hands and Seungmin giggling as he took a sip out of the contents in the paper cup, passing it around to the others that did the same.

They disappeared right in front of you. Your mouth stood agape. They didn’t pass out, they just disappeared into thin air, leaving the airless crimson structure empty yet again.

“w-wait, why didn’t they pass out?” you asked, turning to Changbin as you ran a hand through your hair.

“it happens when you’re new. the body isn’t used to the entire,,, universe switch so you will probably pass out this time also but don’t worry, i’ll catch you”

Changbin grinned, opening the door and being hit by the lack of oxygen. He held the door open for you to which you smiled, stepping inside and seeing that the paper cup had been refilled automatically. The door closed behind Changbin, you standing in close proximity to the boy as you lifted the phone slowly, still feeling the warmth from Chan’s hand. The dark haired boy grabbed the brown paper cup, not even looking at the goopy substance before drinking it, seeing his adam's apple bob up and down. You put the phone towards your ear, wondering why you didn’t hear the female automated voice.

“it doesn’t work?” you said with confusion to which Changbin smiled, pressing in the infamous number on the rusty keypad.

[1800-xxx]

“yeah, it doesn’t if you don’t type in the number” he chuckled, holding the paper cup in both hands and leaning against the humid glass.

Suddenly you hear the voice you were dreading the hear.

It reminded you of that night. That dark rainy evening. The voice started to lag, just like it did last time. You hung up and turned around whereupon you saw Changbin handing you the paper cup. You gulped and put your lips on the edge of the cup, looking at him with unease but feeling comfortable with his presence. You tilted the cup, feeling the sweetness trickle down your throat, almost stinging your insides. Changbin smiled, he looked like the typical bad boy from every cliché teen movie but it made your heart flutter, slightly embarrassed at the state of yourself. He pushed away from the glass wall and swiped his thumb across the corner of your mouth, wiping off the sweet liquid and licking it off the tip of his thumb. You stood there, frozen at the sudden action, gazing softly at him.

“you had something there” he chuckled as you started to feel lightheaded again, your eyelids getting heavy.

“thanks” you said shortly, your gaze drifting down on the dirty floor beneath your feet, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Changbin didn’t say anything, catching you mere seconds after you collapsed on the grimy surface. Admiring your heavy eyes and puffy cheeks for a second before he himself disappeared into the abyss.

“One Moscow mule, please!”

An unfamiliar voice shouted through the blasting club music accompanied by what sounded like the shaking off a cocktail shaker. You groaned, your eyes fluttering open and being hit by the beams of a thousand light machines in all sorts of colors.

“Oh y/n!!” Jisung shouted on the other side of the bar, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the corner of the bar, on the same side as Changbin that was working diligently, mixing some concoction into a metal shaker. You rubbed your eyes, yawning and wondering how you could sleep sitting up. You heard Changbin set the metal cup down, telling something to the woman beside him, must be his co-worker you thought. He kneeled down next to the chair you were sitting on, looking up at you with curious eyes.

“how are you feeling?” he asked loudly, trying to overvoice the music.

“im good” you answered back just as loud, the two of you locking eyes. Changbin smiled at you with his tired face, glancing over the glasses that were located beneath the bar.

“you want something to drink?” Changbin said to which you nodded.

“give me anything” you said, messing with your hair and sighing. You felt tired, an urge to sleep despite the loud blaring music. Maybe it was more of an emotional fatigue. A lack of feeling. And that’s usually when you turn to the bottles. Changbin nodded, standing up and returning to his co-worker, starting to grab all kinds of pretty coloured alcohol.

“ay! y/n! come join us!” you heard Felix say, him standing with a glass in his hand, the other boys scattered around the club along with the other troubled individuals. You smiled widely, looking around and noticing the small exit gate connected to the bar. You patted Changbin on the back, him turning around with a grin before you exited through the gate, closing it after you and pushed through the crowd of people, making your way over to the boys.

“y/n, welcome to where you will feel alive” Jisung yelled, spreading his arms and nearly knocking someone in the hand.

It was truly living you thought. Every single way to escape reality was located here whether it would be alcohol, drugs or sex. People dancing and jumping, grinding and rubbing up against each other. In multiple booths there were people making out, touching in unknown places. Many looked outright high, moving as if their body was possessed by some dance god, not knowing how to control their limbs. You could have sworn you saw Seungmin putting a yellow pill in his mouth, smiling mischievously at someone you didn’t know.

So this was letting go.

“y/n! here!” you heard Changbin’s voice call behind you, turning around and seeing him putting a glass of clear liquid onto the stained wooden bar with coasters scattered all around, a couple lime wedges floating around with the ice in the glass.

“vodka tonic, giving you the strong ones” he said, grinning, to which you smiled back, understanding the hint to his personal life through his eyes. The glass was cold against your warm hand since you were in this stuffy environment filled with countless people and without any windows, only a ventilation system that led to nothing. You put the edge of the glass against your lips, taking a sip and swallowing harshly, feeling bitterness that tasted sweet because that’s what alcohol does when it’s consumed on a particularly bitter day. Or life.

The other boys were dancing, Chan mostly hanging around the edges of the nightclub and observing the nightlife. You made your way over to him, taking another sip in order to gain the courage to strike up a conversation.

“Sup? you feeling any better?” he asked before you had the chance to even open your mouth.

“better. why aren’t you enjoying yourself like the others?”

“i mean,,, i’m technically doing my job even though i’m not getting paid for it. i just like to be in charge i guess,,,” he said, getting more and more silent as he spoke. You nodded.

“i do work with stuff in real life as well” he added, to which you raised your eyebrows.

“what do you work with,,, if you don’t mind me asking!” you said, taking another sip of what tasted like Lucifer’s saliva.

“music producer! it’s tiresome but,,, i don’t really need sleep,,, or more like i can’t sleep. lucky there’s energy drinks and naps” he said with a giggle, his dimples displaying as he chuckled, leaning against the black walls of the nightclub.

“must be tough,,, but wait,,, i’ve never heard your music,,, and also shouldn’t you be the DJ then?” you said confused, swirling the liquid in your hand.

“but that’s the thing y/n, all these people, every single person you see in this room lives in another universe”

You gazed at him, Chan looking straight ahead towards the crowd.

“what do you mean by different universes?” you asked to which curly haired boy cocked his eyebrow.

“we will never coexist y/n, when i tell you that we’ve tried to bring our friendships to the real world i really mean it. we will never exist in your life outside of this hub and,,, it sucks.” Chan took a pause before speaking, pondering on what to say next.

“-thats what happened with a friend we had. i’m saying had because we don’t know where they are or what adventures await them. They just,,, disappeared” Chan said mellowly, you humming in response as you took a final sip of the devil’s juice, already feeling your face heating up.

“h-how does one get out of this place,,, forever i mean” you asked, leaning back against the same wall as Chan and looking right ahead as the song changed to a slower, almost psychedelic beat.

“when said person gets help,,, or starts to feel better or when you hit the casket, three options basically” he says with an acerbic smile. “what? Do you like Changbin?” Chan says teasingly. “you’ve been catching glances at him this entire conversation.”

He was right, you had been glancing over at Changbin occasionally, you couldn’t help it. Was it an excuse for you to look at his cute face from a distance or because you cared about him? You laughed it off but Chan turned serious.

“you know that’s it’s not possible.” he says quietly.

“what? what is not possible?”

“a relationship”

You choked on your own saliva, being blinded by the annoyingly bright strobe lights.

“a relat- ya! do you really think I have time for any of that? besides,,, i’m not really interested in Changbin.”

“who said only you should be interested?”

Your eyes widened when Chan said that. No way could Changbin have these weird feelings to you, the feeling shouldn’t be mutual.

“h-has Changbin said something about you?” you asked timidly, gazing over at Changbin that temporarily made eye contact across the club.

“why don’t you ask him yourself? but i’m telling you y/n,, don't get attached, you will get hurt,,, j-just like i did once”

Sure, you understood what Chan meant. Everyone was here for the time being. One day he could disappear if he decided that the life he was living now either isn’t worth it or he takes control and makes something out of it. There comes a time where you are too tired of living the way you do and so you do something about it, no matter if it’s good or bad.

Changbin waved his hand at you, wanting you to join him behind the bar where now Felix was standing and annoying Changbin by tickling him or whispering in his ear as he moved his body with much fluidity. You smiled, waving towards Chan shortly before you once again made your way through the crowd, feeling lightheaded but in a positive way, as if you really were forgetting reality for a moment.

“y/n!! come!!” Changbin yelled, bouncing slightly to the typical house beat that was now playing, barely holding the bottle of gin since Felix was pestering him playfully. Changbin’s co-worker opened the wooden gate for you, smiling sweetly at you and you doing the same back, your gaze drifting down until you notice the red marks around her throat. You were often scared by people. Not by their actions but by their way to cover them up and of course, you were guilty of this too. Looking at these people you would never guess the pain that was going on inside, the surface level happiness really is surface level. You could smile genuinely towards her, you didn’t have to understand everything she was going through but you knew how it was, smiling when bridges are burning in your mind.

Sometimes pretending hurts more.

“Changbin!” you squealed after you had passed by his co-worker, holding the empty glass that was now nothing more but half melted ice cubes and three wedges of bright green lime. Without thinking you put the glass down on his working station and pull him into a tight hug, squeezing your body against his and feeling the warmth radiate off of him. He froze awkwardly in your arms before loosening up, wrapping his arms around you and ultimately taking in your scent that was now mostly pungent with liquor and sleep, a soft scent that Changbin couldn’t get enough off. You felt safe which was rare in a nightclub especially knowing that most people were either high or carrying weapons. But there was something about him that made you feel like home. It felt familiar, like you’d visited his soul. As if the two of you were sharing the same empty house in your heart despite you never letting anyone in, too scared to be hurt again. Maybe you could let Changbin in, maybe he was different.

The hug lasted longer then you thought, his eyes darting all over the stuffy room before he slowly let go, taking a long inhale of the almost addictive smell. The two of you locked eyes, a shy red tinged his cheeks that was only visible due to there being a spotlight just above him.

“can i talk to you for a second?” you asked, rather boldy which was odd. He nodded and grabbed your wrist only to pull you in behind the same black door where you once ended up in, confused and dazed. He let go of you and closed the door behind him, you standing in the middle of the room that now had tiny light standing on the floor, nothing more new then the same old shelfs and black leather couch.

“what did you wanna talk about?,,, figured you maybe wanted to tell me somewhere more quiet”

‘Quiet’ was an overstatement, the music was making the walls shake and even though it was muffled the jumping of hundreds of people could still be heard in the small dark room where you were alone, with him.

“ehm,,, i don’t know really,,,” you stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“is something wrong y/n? Do you need to be alone for a while? i can le-”

“no, thank you,,, i just wanna be with you.” You interrupted him, his eyebrows furrowing when you uttered the last sentence. He stepped closer to you, the soles of his shoes making a pleasant sound against the floor. You lifted your gaze at him, Changbin standing right in front of you. Beauty that could make you drool. His hair was slightly messy, temples sweaty as he had worked and fetched all kinds of bottles for hours, the grey apron marking his title in the nightclub.

“but i’m here with you! Are you playing some sort of prank on me? did chan set this up?” he chuckled with a smirk, throwing a gaze at the door before diverting it back to your glossy eyes.

“n-no,,, Changbin, I want you”

His mind went blank and so did yours.

You don’t know why you said that but it was too late. The cat was out of the bag. It was too late.

“y/n? are you drunk?” he asked, looking at you seriously and putting the back of his hand against your forehead, suspecting you might be getting sick. You shook your head in response.

“no, it was only one drink, you know? i just,,, kinda,, want you”

You grabbed his hand that was still lingering on your forehead and drew it closer to your heart, holding firmly by his wrist. The clothed valleys of your breasts made contact with the rough palm of his hand, Changbin’s eyes still glued to yours. He scoffed loudly.

“and here i was,,, thinking it was some sort of unrequited love”

It felt like his hand turned into thorns, stinging your heart. So he wanted you too.

Changbin’s hand that rested on your boob snaked upwards, grabbing your jaw as he smiled at you briefly, tilting his head and slowly closing his eyes, attaching his rough lips on yours. Your eyes widened before they closed slowly, eyelashes fluttering in a flirty haze. This was how it felt to kiss someone you loved. It was as if a thousand fireworks ignited inside your beating heart, flying and exploding in an array of colors. A pure lightshow.

Your hands made their way to Changbin’s angular face, cupping his cheeks and feeling his sharp cheekbones against the palms of your hands. Your noses accidentally bumped into each other as your heads tilted from left to right, a sensual pace to the kiss to which the dark haired boy chuckled, adding some laughter to the otherwise grave situation that contained the sounds of two lips smooching each other. The music was only adding to the ambiance, Changbin’s hands wandering and exploring territory on your body that was foreign to him but very well-known to you. Your wet tongues danced around to a serenade, his kiss was strong, sure to leave an unforgettable impression on you. You would want him from now on and forever.

You moaned into the kiss as his hands rested on your ass, groping the flesh that was covered by your pyjamas-shorts. This made Changbin cock his eyebrow, pieces of his slicked back hair falling into his face as making him look like a charming 80′s prince. His fingers danced around the elastic band of your pants, fingers hooking and playfully tugging on the string, a silent plea for you to take them off. You smiled against his lips, saliva exchanging in a heavy and steamy kiss, your cheeks growing warmer by the second.

The two figures melted into one as Changbin pulled you closer to his body, feeling his cock poke through the coarse material of his jeans against your lower abdomen. Good to know that he was enjoying this as much as you were. Your hands descended downwards, traveling along his black tight t-shirt, the jean jacket from earlier being god knows where. The contour of his abs made you smirk, you knew what he was hiding beneath these clothes that you ravenously wanted to tear up. You palmed him through his pants, earning a hiss from the male that panted heavily into the kiss.

You broke the kiss, taking a moment to breathe as your lips were separated by a lonely string of saliva. You grabbed Changbin’s wrist, pushing him down on the leather couch as you straddled his lap, feeling his hard-on against your aching wet cunt. You wanted him so bad and here he was, in front of you for only you to devour. Changbin grabbed onto your hips, pinning them down against his cock and leaning forward to reattach his lips on yours, teeth accidentally clicking against each other moments before your sloppy hot tongues met, feeling his tongue against the soft surface of yours. The sound of lips meeting ringed through your ears, your hips grinding against Changbin’s crotch in a steady pace, feeling your neediness grow. Your hands ran along his abdomen, sneaking them up inside his shirt and tugging on the black material of his t-shirt, pulling it above his head. What was hiding underneath his clothes was more than a pleasant surprise. Your lips moved swiftly against his jawline, peppering kisses on his delicate neck as your hands teased the supple skin of his abdomen, feeling the outline of his muscles against your touch.

Changbin placed his hands near your stomach, pulling your oversized sleeping shirt over your head in the same fashion you did moments earlier. You gasped as the fabric danced over your now hardened nipples, freeing your tits. Of course you didn’t wear a bra when you were in the comfort of your own home but you didn’t think anyone would actually undress you, especially not Changbin. He hummed at the sight, cupping your tits in his hands that were covered in metal rings, feeling the coldness against your heated skin. You shuddered, the sensation shooting down to your dripping core. He kneaded them in his hands as you rubbed against his cock, his boner having a visible outline through his pants, you couldn’t help but to fiddle with his belt buckle, undoing it and hearing the clicking sound of the buckle hitting itself. Changbin pulled away from your swollen lips, tapping you on the thigh to step off in order for him to pull his pants down. You moved to the seat next to him on the couch, the leather sticking back as you laid down, lifting your hips up to remove your pyjama pants along with your panties that quickly hid underneath the fussy pants due to it’s rather interesting print, small teddy bears printed on the fabric. You kicked off your shoes, more like slippers that you wore indoors.

Changbin swiftly pulled down his jeans and black boxers in one motion, throwing them close to your pile of clothes at the base of the couch. Your eyes widened, mouth watering at the pure sight of his cock, a pretty bead of precum decorating his slit, contrasting with the crimson shiny tip. A big gulp descended down your esophagus, heat tinging your cheeks. He chuckled from seeing you stare at his member with shiny doe eyes that reflected in the small lamp on the floor.

“You seem,,, intrigued” he chuckled to which you giggled, not believing that you were really in this small room together with him.

“Y-yeah,,, maybe I am” you snarked, moving your gaze to his eyes and smiling. Only on your way upwards his well-sculpted body did you see the boy holding a small blue plastic item. You furrowed your eyebrows when Changbin opened the packet, retrieving a slightly slippery condom from inside.

“Do we even need that?” you laughed before continuing. “I mean if nothing gets transferred to the real world neither should pregnancies or STD’s”

Changbin tsked, rolling the condom onto his veiny cock, turning slightly away from you to avoid your intense eyes.

“Ask Chan, he would know” Changbin said, turning back to you and making his way over to the couch.

“N-no,,, no way.” You shook your head, your mouth agape as your eyes still danced over Changbin’s buff thighs.

“Yup, knocked up a girl” he said, suppressing a laugh. “And that’s why y/n, you never think with your dick”.

“Being completely honest,,, I expected more from Chan, he seems really,,, responsible” you remarked, Changbin hovering over you and placing a soft kiss on your lips, his hands on either side of your figure.

“He is but I think love is his weak spot or more like,,, lack of love. He often confuses love with either sex, money or fame,,, might I even say drugs.”

You simply nodded not knowing what more to add to the conversation, Changbin’s fingers tracing small circles around your nipples, sneaking them down between your legs where your cunt was aching after him. Anything, as long as it was him. His middle- and ring finger dipped into your heat, feeling the wetness between your folds causing you to hold on to Changbin’s sturdy shoulder. Without warning his fingers entered your dripping hole, fingers curling upwards and grazing your g-spot. You flinched, feeling his cold metal rings against your clit. The dark haired boy shushed, reassuring you that you were in safe hands and that he would make you feel good. Nothing else mattered besides you.

His fingers grazed your velvety walls, thrusting up into your cunt with just enough vigor to make you clutch to his bicep, the firm muscles making you swoon. You whined, spreading your legs even wider, your left leg hanging over the leather couch, sticking to your thigh as your body was heating up from arousal. The wet sounds of Changbin’s fingers playing with your cunt along with your soft whimpers were louder than the music outside, you pressing your head back onto the couch, rubbing your hair on the material. Changbin licked his plump lips upon seeing your face contorting into all kinds of lewd facial expressions, his cock needing to feel your warmth wrapped around it. The pad of his thumb played with your clit, laying it flat against the nub and teasing it in small circles causing tears to prickle in the corners of your shut eyes.

“a-are you alright y/n?” he whispered softly in your ear, kissing the shell of your ear. You nodded, your hands cupping your tits, pinching your hardened nipples, adding pleasure and heat to the burning in your core. Changbin pulled out his fingers, putting the slick covered digits in his mouth and watching you with hawk eyes as he lapped up your juices, humming in delight.

“fuck you taste so good angel” he stated, making you blush, covering your face with your hands. Changbin chuckled, tapping the tip of his dick against your swollen clit and aligning himself with your entrance. You moaned from the sensations, wrapping your legs around him to pull him in, you growing impatient the more he teased.

“p-please fuck me Changbin” you said uttered in a faint voice, barely audible due to the music. It was as if his eyes tinged with a dark color, full of lust. His eyes were hooded, looking down at you with half closed lids, sighing loudly with sexual frustration. He wanted to destroy you, make you his but he had to hold onto his composure. Holding you firmly by your hips he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you, grunting at the warmness that comforted him. You hissed, biting the inside of your cheek, your nose scrunching up at the feeling of being stretched out by his girthy length.

“can I go all the way? does it feel alright?” he asked. You answered with a small “yes”, more worried about the door being unlocked, anyone could burst through the door in seconds only to witness Changbin fucking you on the couch. That thought was quickly wiped from your mind as his cock stuffed into your cunt, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he slowly thrusts into you, using the hands on your hips as a way to guide him, nailing your cervix with each movement. The tips of his ears turned red, the silver chain around his neck reflecting on the dim light in the room as it rocked back and forward above you. You placed your hands around his wrists, looking boldly into his eyes with, a feeling brewing inside you that was hard to describe. It was titillation mixed with yearning. You knew you got him here. He was safe in your arms. You wanted to save him from everything bad in this world but how is that possible when you can’t even save yourself?

“c-changbin” you said in broken syllables, his thrusts only quickening. “changbin!” you repeated, shutting your eyes tightly, curling your toes in pleasure as a string of pretty moans melodically fell from your mouth along with his name. You couldn’t take it, his cock ramming into you in a both mindful and eager manner causing you to claw at his forearms, nails digging into the soft skin. Your tongues were once again caught in a kiss, the taste of your tongue being irresistible to the boy but not sure if it was your love that was drawing him in or the subtle taste of liquor from earlier. His lips felt parched against your, his tongue gliding on your bottom lip before kissing it, his saliva feeling hot in your mouth. The boy above you pulled away for a moment.

“you’re so pretty like this y/n,, fuck, i think i love you”

You gulped but your silence was soon cut off from Changbin slamming his hips against yours, his cock hitting your that specific spot that made you go crazy, the familiar feeling of your orgasm penting up inside you. You moaned with desperation, the lewd sounds bouncing off the dark colored walls. This was music for Changbin’s ears. His grunts accompanied by your whimpers and the squelching sound of your walls engulfing his dick so tightly, the sounds alone was heaven for him. With every move against your body you felt the well-acquainted smell of cigarettes that you could almost feel in your lungs, an addictive scent.

“i love you too, Changbin” you mumbled, slurring on your words from nervousness, feeling shy even though you were naked in front of him. He smiled, peering down at you as his hair fell from it’s perfect gelled state. You smiled softly at him, his cheeks slowly turning a red that matched his lips. Your moans turned to borderline screams, his cock twitching inside of you as he slowly got closer to his sweet release. Clenching around him, Changbin grabbed bent your legs towards you, gently rolling his head backwards as the pace got quicker.

“i’m g-gonna cum! don’t stop!” you yelped, your heart thumping at the speed of light, tiny sweat droplets forming on your forehead. Changbin reached so deep inside of you causing you to thrash around, fiercely trying to grip to the edges of the couch. The burning in your core got intense, it felt as if a thousand stars were falling at the same time, bursting with amativeness. The sudden feeling of warmth took over your body, a pleasant tingle surging. A breathy moan leaving you stunned, grabbing onto Changbin’s hands that were pushing your knees towards you. Just as your orgasm washed over you like a ton of bricks falling to the ground, your body jolted with the last couple of powerful thrusts, a loud gasp slipping from his lips. His girthy cock released it’s seed into the condom, his hot breath lingering near you.

He let go of your quivering legs, them flopping down on either side of him. Your chest heaved up and down as you breathed through your parted lips. Changbin pulled off, carefully removing the condom and discarding it somewhere on the floor. He snuggled close to you on the narrow couch, pressing his sweaty body against yours, taking a moment to catch his breath before speaking.

“So you love me too?” he chuckled. You turned to face him, looking deep into his dark brown eyes that looked pitch black in the dim light. After a loud exhale you answered him.

“No, I think I can’t live without you” you whispered, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. His stable breath tickled against your chin, your eyes slowly closing as Changbin was observing your features that he found insanely attractive. And it was even more attractive that you were his. But this couldn’t last.

“You know this is not possible y/n” he said with sadness in his voice as he gulped, his adams apple protruding. You knew it, the thing you dreamt of wasn’t possible since the two of you didn’t exist in each other's worlds.

“I feel fucking stupid” you said with closed eyes, sighing after your words. Changbin shook his head.

“Don’t give up that easily y/n, we can try”. He was right but what relationship was only visible in the darkness of a nightclub? Only a promiscuous one. Yet, you didn’t want to give up. Not matter what kind of relationship it was you wanted to be with him.

“So,,, what does that mean? That we are-”

“Dating, I guess” he added shortly, the corner of his lips lifting upwards. It sounded weird in your ears. Dating someone you had only met a couple of times but it felt right. This was where you belonged. In his arms, away from all your demons. He truly cared for you, not like the others. He was unlike those in your life that said that they cared but never wanted to know more than the surface level of your character. He wanted to know everything about you. Your hurt, your sorrows, your pain but also your happiness, your joy and your solace. He wanted to know you.

Your hands trailed up and down his upper arms, his skin feeling soft against your touch. The two of you cuddled like this for a while, Changbin running his hands along your hair, its smell reminding him of a green meadow of millions of flowers in all shapes, colors and sizes. He didn’t want to leave but if he wasn’t back in the bar the boys would start looking for him and the last thing he wanted was 7 boys teasing him for getting it on. You were more than a hookup. More than just a fling.

Changbin stood up, squinting his eyes in order to look for his clothes and finding them scattered all over the room. He pulled his underwear and jeans over his lower body before pulling his shirt over his top half, the black t-shirt sitting snugly around his muscles. He ran a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head before smirking at you. Such a tease.

“Do you have to leave?” you asked with a whiny voice, your arms felt empty once again. He nodded.

“i’m afraid so, don’t want them thinking I've been transported back without them knowing, they get worried but that’s only natural I guess.”

You nodded back, putting your cheek against the leather on the seat, your arm hanging straight down, the back of your hand limp against the floor.

“Get dressed if you want to have some more fun or you can chill here for a moment but I have to warn you, that door doesn’t have a lock” Changbin said, pointing at the only door in the room.

“i’ve already noticed that” you remarked, grabbing your panties and only after you’ve pulled them halfway up your thigh did you see Changbin smirking at you.

“You’re cuter than I thought” he said, pointing at your teddy bear panties with his chin, stepping closer to you. You looked away, biting your lip in embarrassment as you felt his hand on your hair, ruffling it sloppily.

“You’re making fun of me!” you said back with a pout, pulling your pyjama pants over your bottom.

“yeah, because you’re adorable” he said, placing a peck on your lips. You wanted more of him. He was simply addictive.

But not even this universe wanted to see you two together.

Your eyelids got heavier, your eyebrows furrowing at the familiar yet distant feeling. It felt unknown until you saw the small specks clouding up your vision once again.

“y/n? y/n, how are you?” Changbin said with worry, grabbing you by your shoulders and looking at your apathetic gaze. “N-no, y/n, don’t leave now”

You didn’t want to but you didn’t decide when you left.

You harshly held Changbin in your arms, putting your forehead against his shoulder, rubbing against it. Changbin slowly put his hands around you, patting your back as salty tears rolled down your warm cheek, putting wet stains on his shirt.

“shh,,, it’s ok y/n, are you feeling dizzy?” he asked carefully to which you nodded mellowly, your bottom lip quivering as the multicolored boxes of light flashed before your eyes. The room felt unstable, like your legs wouldn’t hold you much longer and they didn’t when you collapsed into Changbin’s arms, him holding you tightly to his chest as your knees buckled. Your voice was unstable, a silent cry pleading to be heard.

“I love you” you whispered in a frail voice. The ear-deafening music from outside was tuning out from your hearing, your words slurring at the end as you repeated yourself for the last time.

“I love y-you”

Changbin was left hugging air, his arms empty as he opened his sparkling eyes. He was close to tears because he was left there. Without you.

“HEY! WHERE IS- oh”

Jisung burst through the black door, the six other boys standing close behind him as they looked around the room, eventually catching eye contact with Changbin.

“She went home” Changbin said softly, letting his arms fall to the sides. Jisung inched closer to him, patting him on the shoulder where your tears were still left as a souvenir of your love.

“She’ll come back, don’t worry about it” Jisung said with a reassuring smile, leading Changbin to the door, out of the room that smelled like sex and tenderness.

“Euw,, what is this doing here? Does nobody know how to clean up?” Felix said pointing at the used condom on the floor. Changbin’s face went cold, stopping dead in his tracks.

“is it yours or something Changbin?” Hyunjin laughed, pushing the youngest, Jeongin, in a fit of laughter.

The room went quiet after Hyunjin’s cold laughter. It was pretty obvious.

“YOU FUCKED HER?” Jisung screamed in Changbin’s ear, making him flinch away and holding his ear in pain. The room filled with all sorts of teasing sounds, everything from “ooh~" to “AYE” in obnoxious voices.

“Luckily he used a condom!” Minho snarled, glancing over at Chan that was ready to beat Minho into pulp. Chan sighed, regretting that he didn’t shove the condom in Minho’s smirky face.

“No but seriously you guys, y/n is more than you think. It’s not just another person I fucked, she actually means something to me.”

Just when Changbin thought he had something special some of the boys started laughing even harder, ruffling his hair and poking his cheeks.

“yeah right,,, what? are you guys dating or something?” Seungmin asked, rolling his eyes.

“yes, i’m serious you guys! I love her,,,” he said with a frown, already missing your touch.

“What idiot gets into a relationship 3 months before they have to go to rehab?” Minho says, retrieving a cigarette from the red packaging in the pocket of his leather jacket.

Oh fuck.

Rehab.

When someone recovers from their pain is when you disappear from the club. You are no longer a lost soul. You are no longer lost within yourself. And that’s when you return to the real world, your real world.

Keeping secrets in a relationship was deceitful in Changbin’s eyes. If you belong to someone you should be as transparent as the liquor he poured into his ice cold glass every evening. He felt guilty. You poured your heart out for him, telling him everything that had hurt for so many years and here he was, pretending. He did that a lot, mainly because he was taught to be a reliable man. It wasn’t manly to feel.

Which is why he left his home at a young age. He didn’t care if he worked a minimum wage job and lived in a destitute area, he was content as long as he didn’t live with his parents. But when you live alone it’s not rare that isolation creeps up on you and strokes your cheek with a feather light touch, inviting you over to a dance with the demons that would soon cloud up your mind. Alcohol was Changbin’s comfort. It was the only one that didn’t fail to reassure him. It was as if the bottles spoke to him, promising him that a life intoxicated was better than the life he was currently living.

And he fell for it.

Every time.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to live a life that is actually worth living. Change comes from within but he needed help and he had only recently realized that he had a problem, that these toxic liquids were what’s keeping him from chasing the dream life. He didn’t dream of much, just the average life would be more than enough, with someone he loved.

But what was he supposed to do?

Take the step to recover or continue his addiction for the sake of being with you?

The demons whispered softly in his ears.

Life or Love?

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820 @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3

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stillness-in-green · 4 years ago

Text

Why Deku's ultimatum to Overhaul is bad and he should feel bad

This is a bit outside my normal character wheelhouse, but I really need to get a rant about it off my chest, so here goes:

The Deku and Overhaul scene in Chapter 316 is terrible. It is fucking terrible.

I took a whirl around Overhaul's tag up through when the leaks first started dropping, but didn't immediately see anyone talking about why it's so fucking terrible, only concerns about letting Overhaul see Eri (understandable, but baseless, I think), some empathy towards Overhaul's current state (totally warranted!), some snark about Deku being So Done with Overhaul (haha because who cares about Deku's stated goal of trying to understand villains, right?), and, worst of all, some cooing about how Deku was being so compassionate and noble by offering Overhaul that olive branch.

Deku was not being compassionate and noble there. Deku was being arrogant, small-minded, and so shockingly cruel that it leaves me speechless that anyone could think his stunted and hard-hearted "offer" reflects well on him.

Deku's entire motivation in this arc has been wrestling with the realization that he might have been able to avoid some of the desperate battles of his past if he'd understood more about the villains he fought. He thought of three very specific people--Stain, Muscular, and Overhaul--as he reflected, "Maybe it wouldn't have had to go that way if I'd understood them better." He then thought of Gentle Criminal and La Brava, people who he’d come to some understanding of, who he’d been able to soften the conclusion of his battle with by going along with Gentle's fiction downplaying what had happened between them. The whole line of thought was intended to contextualize his newfound desire to save Shigaraki.

It soon became apparent that Stain, Muscular and Overhaul were, in fact, encounters that he would be revisiting, as a chance to see how he'd grown since he faced them, and as a dry-run on reaching out to villains that would give him a chance to practice ways he might reach out to Shigaraki when the time comes.

Well, based on his performance so far, the idea that Deku might be able to reach Shigaraki is laughable.

Firstly, his tentative questions to Muscular were ill-timed, all wrong for the middle of a battle. Muscular laughed him off, and I don’t think there’s any version of that scenario in which he would have done otherwise. Muscular was a huge threat, gleefully violent, disinterested in conversation about his history. Obviously, right in the middle of a fight was no kind of time to try to figure out what made the man tick! But Deku didn’t get the luxury of choosing the circumstances of that encounter, so yes, that battle probably was unavoidable, certainly if Deku wanted to stop him from doing further damage. But the idea that because Deku couldn't reach him right then and there, it's impossible for Deku--or, indeed, for anyone--to reach him at all is fallacious. Not every person has to be able to like or understand every other person. If Deku couldn't reach Muscular, so what? That doesn't mean it's impossible that someone might. And that means an obligation to treat Muscular like a human being, to afford him human rights, to not stop trying to find a way to rehabilitate him, even as you safeguard other people against him.

Deku's battle with Muscular being unavoidable was not some great triumph, for all that the narrative used it as an opportunity to let him show off how far he’d come in mastering One For All. In the way that matters, the way that Deku himself is currently trying to better, he hasn't advanced at all. Imasuji Goto represented his first test in the lead-up to saving Shigaraki, and Deku failed it.

His next trial was Overhaul.* Here, again, was someone who Deku was explicitly trying to understand. So what was the one thing that was most key to understanding Overhaul's current motivation? What was the one thing that Overhaul was ranting about out loud, incessantly? And what did Deku conspicuously fail to ask about? Overhaul's relationship with Pops.

This was so easy. So obvious. And Deku didn’t even try. All he could think about in the moment he was faced with that broken man was the little girl that man hurt--all thoughts of trying to understand where the man himself was coming from went right out the window, flown away in an instant. Instead of asking about why Overhaul feels the way he does, he demanded that Overhaul feel the way Deku wanted. He was essentially holding the only person Overhaul cared about hostage for the remorse he wanted Overhaul to feel.

I'm not going to try to armchair diagnose Overhaul with mental conditions. I don't have the educational background, and I'm positive Horikoshi doesn't. But it seems pretty clear that asking Overhaul to feel guilt about Eri was asking for something that he might not be capable of feeling, at least not without years of therapy that he was plainly not getting in Tartarus. And if Overhaul is not capable of feeling that guilt, then what does denying Overhaul his meeting actually solve? Who does it help? It doesn’t help Eri. Doesn’t help the old man. It certainly doesn’t help Overhaul himself. The only person who gets any satisfaction out of demanding remorse from Overhaul is Deku. And even Deku didn’t look like he found it very satisfying!

Another failure. A meaninglessly cruel, petty failure. A failure that served only to hurt a man who was already a live wire of agony, to sentence an old man to a coma he might never wake from without Overhaul's expertise, and to deprive Eri of the only actual family she had left.

And look, Pops might very well not be the ideal guardian for Eri, and I'm not saying he should get to "keep" her just because of the blood connection, but it's not like he cheerfully handed her over to Overhaul and walked out the door! He turned to Overhaul because he trusted Overhaul, because he wanted someone to help Eri and thought that maybe Overhaul could. And when Overhaul's thoughts about Eri took a very dark turn, Pops first denied his request about using her to further his research and then, when Overhaul kept pushing it, chose Eri over the kid he personally took in from the streets by telling Overhaul that he needed to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he couldn't muster any more respect for human life than that.

But, you know, Eri is so cute with Aizawa and stuff. And Pops was a criminal. Probably. Maybe? I mean, he was yakuza, anyway, so he obviously must have been a criminal even if the police never actually arrested him. Apparently, this means it's okay to just leave him in a coma forever! Even though Overhaul absolutely has enough medical expertise that letting him talk to a neurologist about what he did to Pops might enable them to figure out how to wake Pops up even without Overhaul being able to use his quirk to undo the damage. Hell, Overhaul is also the person alive who has the best handle on how Eri's quirk works. He might even know what her accumulation condition is. Maybe a better thing to ransom his access to Pops with would be Overhaul telling Aizawa everything he knows about Eri's quirk so Aizawa can use the knowledge to help her get a better handle on it.

But no. Obviously undoing some small part of the concrete harm Overhaul did was less important than how Deku felt about that harm.

And there's more! Oh, is there ever. I called Deku arrogant before; let me circle back to that.

Deku said that if Chisaki would feel the way Deku wanted him to feel, then Deku would uphold the promise to let Overhaul see Pops. But where in hell did Deku get off making that claim? Deku is a student. He's not a pro. He has no authority, medical, legal, carceral or otherwise. He has no say in where Overhaul goes or who he's allowed to see.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? What kind of strings did Deku think he could pull that he could just casually make that claim without so much as going into a huddle with Hawks and Endeavor about it first? How inflated has this kid's sense of importance gotten that he made Overhaul that promise without even stopping to think about whether it was something he was in any position to ensure? It was such a bullshit ultimatum, not only because of how needlessly obstructive it was, but because it was so formless.

"If only you would feel a wish to apologize to Eri…" Okay, so what if Overhaul goes back to prison and, three days later, calls out to say, "Okay, I thought about it and I really feel like I want to apologize, now can I see Pops already?" Who gets to make that judgment call? Deku? Is he going to drop his faux-vigilante act and come visit Overhaul in prison just so he can squint at the man really hard to see if he's lying? Is Deku going to delegate the call to someone else? All Might? Hawks? A prison warden? A psychologist? Who? Who gets to be the one to say, "Okay, I think his remorse is genuine."

Then, once that call has been made, how many people have to arrange for Overhaul to be escorted out of prison and to whatever hospital Pops is in? Will Deku get to oversee that visit? Does he think he can overturn a warden declaring, "The scum doesn't deserve a visit, and the old man probably doesn't either," or a doctor protesting, "I'm not letting that man anywhere near my patient!"

The hell of it is, I think Deku could do all of that. He's got a close personal connection to All Might, who was basically a demi-god to this society for decades; he has the ear of the current top three heroes. Everyone is apparently convinced that the power to save this society rests solely in Deku's hands; I'm sure he could ask for anything he wanted. But the fact that that is the case suggests that this society is not even slightly turning away from its dependence on heroes dictating its morality. A hero having the sole right to dictate, out of hand, based on his personal feelings, the fate of people designated "villains" while the rest of society turns away is exactly what Shigaraki is angry about.

The only thing worse than Deku perpetuating the worst problems of hero society in an arc that's supposed to be about him finding a better way is that he didn’t even stop to think about it. It never even occurred to him that that was what he was doing. He thought that what he was asking of Chisaki was just and fair, and thus, he didn’t need to ask for any second opinions or permissions; he didn’t need to think about what would actually be feasible, about what was best for the people involved. He'd made his judgment call about a villain, and that's all there was to it. The villain could fall in line or--nothing. There isn't actually another choice. Hero's way or nothing

I hate it. I hate it. I don't care about whether Overhaul "deserves" to suffer; heroes making the cold decision that they will make him suffer is antithetical to everything a carceral system intended to rehabilitate prisoners stands for. And yes, Japan does at least claim on paper that the goal of incarceration in state hands is rehabilitation.

Restorative justice is superior to retributive justice. It's better for society and it's better for individuals. It is kinder, it is more compassionate. Retributive justice poisons people. It perpetuates suffering for no reason but moral grandstanding. Individuals are allowed to forgive or not forgive anyone they want, but a society should conduct itself with an eye to the long-term welfare of all of its people. That means that even the worst kinds of criminals still have human rights. It means not inflicting pain that serves no purpose.

I've gotten off-track here. Yes, I think that if Overhaul could feel regret about Eri, that would obviously be a positive development for his character. It'd hurt like hell, but it would be a hurt that indicated he was becoming a better person, a person who wanted to do more good, less ill, with his life and efforts. But you can't mandate that someone become a better person. No ultimatum handed down from on high is going to change Overhaul's heart. Telling someone, "I'll help you, but only if you only feel the way I want you to feel. Otherwise, you can just stay there and suffer," is not reaching out to help people who are suffering in the dark, which is, again, what Deku claimed he wanted to do, what he begged for Nagant's help in doing, the way he insisted to the vestiges that OFA should be used.

Deku writing people off because they don't conform to his expectations, because they can't be "good" the way he wants them to be, nor even "bad" in ways he can understand, is him failing to live up to his own expressed ideals. "I wish you'd feel bad about hurting people," wasn't enough to reach Muscular or Overhaul, and it damn well shouldn't be enough to reach Shigaraki.

Cruelty does not beget kindness. You cannot treat people with only callousness and severity, then condemn them for not taking the opportunity to grow. You have to give them opportunities to better themselves. For Overhaul, giving him an opportunity would be letting him help the man he wronged and then moving forward from there. Telling him to feel regret about Eri or else? That's doing nothing but sweeping his pain back under the rug.

---

*I have more or less exhausted my outrage over Lady Nagant in chats with friends, so I'll spare the rant on how disjointed, contradictory and ludicrous her turn was; the gist is "very, on all counts."

---

P.S. Anyone who says that Overhaul "has nothing left to live for" is being a level of ableist that defies description. Prosthetics exist. Assistive devices exist. Speech-to-text software exists. Overhaul is intelligent, driven and highly educated. Even if he never got prosthetics at all, there would still be things he could contribute to the world if he were motivated to do so. The better thing to do, though, would be to get the man some damn prosthetics, hook him up with the neurologist consulting on Pops' case, and let the two of them get on with the matter of waking up the old man.

P.P.S. Overhaul spent six months in solitary confinement. The United Nations considers solitary confinement exceeding 15 days to be a form of torture. Solitary confinement creates severe mental health issues and exacerbates existing ones. It frequently leads to a deadening of empathy, something Overhaul has in little enough amounts as it is. It is absurd to ask a man who's just come out of these conditions to "feel sorry for what you did to Eri," especially if you're planning to turn around and send him right back to solitary. Tartarus is inhuman, and the only reason more of the escapees aren't total wrecks like Overhaul is because Horikoshi clearly didn't bother to do the reading on the wide array of problems that those characters should be experiencing physically, mentally and socially.

#bnha #bnha critical #deku critical #bnha overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha muscular #my writing?#stillness has salt #bnha spoilers #one last salty post before I go back to working on things for characters and plots I actually like in this series #taking my life into my hands and posting this in the tags #but seriously #please please let Horikoshi realize #that Deku saying he wants to use OFA to save villains and then doing nothing but using OFA to beat them down again #is not Deku WINNING #it is Deku LOSING #saving someone takes more than rescuing them from a bullet that wasn't going to hit them anyway #if you don't have follow-through then you're just condemning people to fall through the cracks

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bonky-n-steeb · 4 years ago

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𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

You stared at the ticking clock, counting the seconds for his return, while Iris played with her stuffed tiger that her dada had bought for her. Her father was finally coming home after serving for a really long time in the military. Bucky was everything you had wanted and more.

Though you both had a small and cute wedding when you were way too young, it still was one of the best days of your life. Since the day you had met him, he had been hell bent on joining the army as he somehow felt the need to protect people after what had happened to his father. So, after serving his first term, while you were still a second-year graduate student, he had proposed and you had accepted without wasting a second.

Soon you had found yourself pregnant, during your pregnancy, he had been there for your every beck and call. You still remembered his face when Iris was born; it was filled with such adoration and love, you knew you wouldn’t have to worry about anything. Iris was literally the female version of her dad, her cute nose, her lips and most importantly her blue eyes; her eyes had played a small role in naming her.

Having a kid and completing your medical residency had been tough, but whenever Bucky was home, he took care of all the housework and kept Iris busy for as long as possible. Just one thing which you didn’t like was all this time he spent away from home and the immense risk that came along with being on active duty. But he wasn’t just your Bucky, was he, he was Sgt. Barnes, too.

But now as you sat staring at the clock, you feared that when he returned, Bucky wouldn't be the same man he was. While on duty, there had been an explosion and he had lost his arm. Hearing his voice on the phone was enough to tell you that he was broken. You were waiting to take him in your arms and tell him that it would be fine.

Just then the bell rang and you quickly got up and unlocked the door. And there he was, his eyes without their usual luster, filled with unshed tears. As Iris ran towards him, he quickly scooped her up in his right arm. “dada! I missed you s’much” she said kissing his face. You wondered whether she didn’t notice or was simply ignoring his missing arm after you gave her a little ‘talk’ about it. “I missed you too Rissie! I love you my little princess!” he said smothering her with kisses. “I'm a Queen!” she exclaimed. “Alright your majesty. Now may I enter your palace and meet my wife?” Iris pretended to think and then exclaimed a yes.

“Hey, don’t cry” he said as he dropped Iris down. You hadn't even noticed that you were crying. You quickly wrapped him in your arms and he held you tight, fearing that you might slip away. You both didn’t speak for a long time, you were too busy being buried in each other's neck, but then you felt the moisture collect on your shoulder. As you let go, you realized his dam had broken and he was crying too.

“I love you Bucky bunny” you said playfully. Somehow long back, you had come up with this nickname while watching Looney Tunes; your magnificent brain had somehow morphed Bugs Bunny into Bucky bunny. He pretended to hate it saying it sounded like some porn stars name, and therefore you teased him even more. “I love you too.” he replied staring deep into your soul.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

As you both retired to your bedroom after ensuring Iris was fast asleep, you simply laid in bed without talking. Your hands were quietly exploring the same planes of his body you had travelled a million times over. You hesitated to touch his arm at first, fearing whether he was comfortable with it or not. But as you slowly began to trace the scars, he let out a long breath.

You wished he didn’t have to suffer this; you wished all went to the way it was previously; you wished that his eyes shone just as brightly as they did before. But that didn’t mean you loved him any less now. Though throughout the day he pretended to be just fine, you knew he wasn’t even close to being fine.

“Are you going to leave me?” he finally broke the silence. You couldn’t help but give him a confused expression, why would he ask that? “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me. Just say and I'll go. I don’t want to be a burden to you... ” you shut him up by kissing him. “I am not leaving you Buck. I’m gonna stick with you like an octopus.” you said chuckling. “Buck, we’ll go through everything and anything if we are together. I just want you to be happy. We'll make it work; we will find a way. And trust me when I say I love you more than anything.”

You spent the entire night, tangled in each other, telling him how much you loved and cherished him.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were tired and your back was aching after performing a long surgery. As you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell if your favorite dish being cooked in the house. As you walked straight to the kitchen you were stunned to see Bucky somehow managing to cook with Iris sitting on the kitchen counter. Though the kitchen was a mess, you weren't going to complaint, all you could see was the blinding happiness on his face.

“Look who is back! Guess what mama bear?” Bucky said joyously. You wondered what was the reason behind his joy. “Daddy is gonna get his arm back!” Rissie exclaimed happily. This wasn’t news to you though. You had talked to Bucky about getting a prosthetic arm and he hadn't been half this excited. Seeing your confusion Bucky responded “Well, I got a call this morning. They are not only giving me my job back but giving me a cool new arm. I'll be on duty again!”

You weren't sure whether to be happy or sad. You were euphoric about Bucky’s job and arm but at the same time you were worried for his life. “That’s amazing Buck!” you hugged him tightly as Iris slipped between you two. Your eyes were filled with happy tears. He was happy and that’s all that mattered right now.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

FOUR YEARS LATER

You finally had a holiday from your hectic schedule as a surgeon. Iris was off to school and after some pushing you had persuaded Bucky to go get groceries. You wondered what had happened to Bucky. Something had changed after he got that arm, rather everything had changed. He wasn’t lively anymore, he got irritated at small things, stared off absently into space not responding to anything, he constantly looked behind his back, nor did he laugh at any of your jokes, you missed his laughter and that's what hurt you the most.

Not to mention the horrid dead blank stare he gave you some days, intently looking at your every move like a predator, that thing scared the shit out of you. In the past two years not once you and Bucky had accepted Thor’s dinner invitations. You didn’t have many friends, you just had one, Thor. He was with you since your residency and you both worked together as trauma surgeons. Bucky and Thor had become quick friends too and the three of you went on many double dates. But that was a thing of the past. Now, whenever Thor invited you, Bucky simply came up with a stupid reason to not go. Bucky had become so closed off; he wasn’t the thoughtful and jolly Bucky you fell in love with.

Now that you finally had the house to yourself, you had decided to go on a cleaning spree. Currently you were in your bathroom; busy cleaning with your mop, when you accidentally slipped on some spilt soap water and ended up falling right beside the bathtub, your mop flew up and hit the ceiling tiles, thus displacing them. Suddenly a small diary fell right on your head. Placing your right hand on the ledge of the bath tub, you waited for everything to settle down and cursed loudly. “Fuck you, you goddamning son of a bitch! Everything had to fall on my head! Pathetic!”.

You saw that you mop as now dangling on the bath tub and that stupid diary which had apparently fallen from heaven knows where was laying right beside you. As you looked up, you noticed the displaced tiles and realized that’s where this must have fallen from. As you picked up the diary you noticed there wasn't any dust on it, so there wasn't a chance that the previous owners might have left something in the false ceiling above. And it definitely wasn’t you, Iris was too small to keep something there; that only left Bucky. But why did he never mention this diary before. What exactly was he hiding?

As you opened the diary, you realized that you couldn’t understand a single word written. It felt as it was written in some highly complex code language. You were sure it wasn’t any language spoken everyday by sane humans. As you flipped through the pages you realized that every page was written in the same format. At the top was presumably some names written in the code and the rest was probably the information of that person.

You wondered how did Bucky know this language? And why didn’t he ever tell you about anything, heck, he didn’t even mention it. And whose names had he written like it was the most confidential file? You got up and quickly closed the lid on the toilet and climbed up on it. You stuck your hand inside the hollow ceiling above to check if he was hiding something more.

Your hand caught something and you pulled it out, only to realize it was a laptop. You wondered why he needed a second laptop when he already had one for work purposes in the home office. You took the laptop and the diary and sat down in the bathroom itself, so that if you when you would hear Bucky come you would simply put everything back up in the ceiling. You opened the laptop and saw it was password protected. You decided you would have two tries at unlocking the laptop and if you didn’t crack it, you would simply confront him.

You first tried out typing Iris's name and her date of birth. But it was denied access. You thought for a minute more and entered your own name and your birthdate. And access was granted to you. You didn’t know whether to be happy that he had kept your name as his password or angry that he had been lying to you about whatever this was. As the laptop opened, you saw various files in it. You tapped on one and it seemed to open on a person’s resume. No, it wasn’t a resume, it was that person’s entire life history. It was like those files the assassins carried in movies with all the information about their target. You wondered what Jason Bourne shit this was.

As you read his name and saw the photos attached with it, you felt as if you had seen this person before. As you scrolled further, it finally clicked. A year before this person, who held a high position in the United Nations, was all over the news due to his untimely death caused by a heart attack. You had absolutely no interest in worldly matters, you already had a million problems on your head so you hadn't paid much attention and had not given a flying fuck. But now suddenly sweat was covering your forehead. You were worried sick as to why Bucky had all this information stored in a secret computer.

As you scrolled further, you almost reached the end of the file and that’s when you saw the video. With shaky hands you opened it. It seemed to be the security footage of that man’s bedroom and its resolution was pretty shitty. For the first few minutes all you saw was the man sleeping peacefully but as the video continued, you noticed it. The window in his room was slowly lifted as a man entered. He seemed to be dressed in tactical gear, his face was covered by a mask, but he was given away by one tell-tale sign. His arm. The metal arm with a red star on it glinted in the moonlight and you knew it was Bucky.

You watched as Bucky quietly walked towards the sleeping man. As he stood near the bed, he produced something from his pocket and bent down. As you strained your eyes, you saw that it was an injection. Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand around your mouth. That man hadn't died due to a heart attack, at least not natural. He was murdered by Bucky!

You opened another file, then another, they all were the same. In the beginning it was the information about the person, then a report as to how they died and then a video. All of them were well known figures; and all of them had been assassinated by Bucky. In one of the videos, you saw him choking the life out of a man with his metal arm and your mind wandered to the many times you would playfully tell him to choke you with the metal arm while fucking you; your hand unconsciously went to your throat at the thought.

Then you opened a file titled: The Winter Soldier. That was weird you thought, the other files were given numbers but not names. As you opened the file, you realized it was Bucky’s own. Apparently, his codename was The Winter Soldier. Everything about him was stated in that file systematically. His background, his education, his military career and the worst of all, there were your and Iris’s photos too. As you continued to read, you realized he wasn’t working in the military anymore. Four years before, the people who had called him were from an organization named Hydra. The name and symbol itself sent chills down your spine. God, was Bucky so stupid, the octopus symbol itself screamed that Hydra was up to no good.

In the beginning, you couldn’t believe Bucky had gotten such a fancy and technological advanced arm. Looking at it you wondered how much it cost, the material and the functions would make it no less than a few million dollars. Now why would the government spend so much money on a sergeant, not that Bucky didn’t deserve it but you were curious.

It felt as if he was hiding something from you. But you didn’t as ask as you knew he’d come around and tell you soon anyway. He needed time and you had plenty to give. But he never did. You had asked so many times whether the star was a tattoo of some sort and he had always deflected your questions. But now after reading this, you knew what all this was for. The arm, the pay raise, the irregular schedule, it was all Hydra. And Bucky was a professional assassin, and that too a deadly one.

Your eyes watered and bile rose to your throat as you saw a list, it was all the people he had killed, and the list was pretty big. You quickly placed the laptop besides you and began to puke your guts out in the toilet. In all the panic you failed to notice that a person was holding back your hair and soothingly rubbing your back.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #mob!steve #dark!bucky x reader #mob!steve x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader

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justhockeythings-blog1 · 4 years ago

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Who said I’m out of your league?

A/N: I wasn’t sure how to end this one so let me know what you all think! Feed back is greatly appreciated! Also I totally had to use this gif, his confidence is unmatched lol

Request: Can you please do a William Nylander imagine where you meet the team for the first time and they tease him about you being out of his league or something. Thanks!

For the entirety of your six month relationship, you had always assumed that Willy was out of your league. He was a professional hockey player, the Swedish-Canadian version of Thor, not to mention that his personality could impress even the strictest mother on the planet. You were, for all intents and purposes, average. You had a normal job, normal friends, you considered your looks to be normal, and you had a normal, by your own standards, upbringing. Your personality was probably the one thing you were confident could hold a flame to Willy’s but even then, he had the ability to be so selfless at times you wondered if you were dating an angel.

Willy on the other hand thought that you were the most amazing thing to ever walk this planet and he took every single opportunity to tell you just that. You did something different with your hair? “Wow babe, you look amazing.” You wore new clothes that you just got? “Damn baby you should model for that company.” There was never a shortage of compliments that came from him about you.

Which was probably why you didn’t feel as nervous as you should about meeting his teammates for the first time. You knew that Willy loved you, there was never a doubt in your mind, so you figured even if today went horribly wrong in every aspect you still had that going for you. You also had heard wonderful things about his teammates, from Willy himself but also the fans. It wasn’t like you hadn’t interacted with them in some capacity, they had heard your voice over the phone or briefly over the headset when Willy joined them for video games. You were pretty sure Willy had talked about you to them, at least in some capacity, so really you should be set up for an easy meeting with all of them.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyways, the closer you got to the bar you were meeting the team at the more you felt your hands beginning to sweat. You rubbed them on your jeans for the fifth time, reaching over to lace your fingers with Willy’s as he drove. You thought you were holding your nerves fairly well, you had assured Willy before you left that this was going to be a walk in the park.

Boy were you beginning to eat your words.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He teased, pulling his eyes away from the road momentarily before he returned them to focus on where he was going. “You’re never nervous.”

That was a lie. In fact Willy had seen you nervous on numerous occasions, including the first time you two had ever met. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it cute. You had a number of nervous ticks that he had picked up on over the last few months. You would bounce your leg while waiting for an event that was causing your nerves to spike or you would bite your lip when deep in thought, as if planning out every option. Your cheeks would heat up, creeping up your neck, when someone called you out on any and you would wave your hand in the air as if physically brushing the nerves away momentarily.

Right now you were expressing all of those ticks, right down to the heat climbing up your neck as you tried to wave your free hand absentmindedly, brushing his words out of the air. It caused Willy to smile, he knew you better than you thought he did. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it before he focused back on the road again. You would never admit it to him, you liked to be a neutral front but he had seen your nerves spike randomly in the days leading up to today. You had grilled him about his teammates a few times, wanting to make sure you at least had the basics of their names, girlfriends who may or may not be there. It had made Willy laugh, comparing it to you taking notes as if you were about to write a paper on the leafs player.

“You can hide it all you want, but you’re nervous.” He called you out again and you gave him a sharp look, sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“I’m not nervous, I’m just…” You trailed off, tossing around a number of emotions in your head before you settled on the one. “Worried. These guys are your teammates and your best friends. I know it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, because you love me and that’s important but it’s going to make things awkward if they don’t like me.”

You turned to look at him, letting your words settle in the car as Willy parked, your stomach dropping to your feet as you realized you were there. Everything felt so much more real now that you were looking at the sign of the bar, peering in the front window you could see Zach and Rasmus, already surrounded by other players.

“Hey..” Willy’s soft voice pulled your eyes away from the window and back to him. “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to love you, I mean it’s not like I haven’t hyped you up. Just be yourself, if you’re uncomfortable after like an hour then we can go, okay?” He assured you, giving your hand another kiss.

“Okay, let’s go.” You smiled a little, grabbing your purse and climbing out, stopping in front of the car to wait for him before you both made your way inside. Your stomach flipping once more as he held the door for you, following you inside and guiding you over to the table.

“About time, we were wondering if you got lost on your way.” Zach teased, causing Willy to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I get lost one time and you never let me live it down.” Willy laughed, pulling out a chair for you to sit down in before taking one at your side. “This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Zach, Rasmus, Auston…”

You followed his finger as he pointed to each player who was there, as well as their own guests, mentally trying to commit them all to memory. You were pretty good when it came to names and faces, but the nerves weren’t helping, you could almost feel your hands shaking a little.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you all.” You waved a little, smiling softly as conversation picked up, Willy holding your hand under the table.

It was as though you had known these people your whole life, you fell into conversation easily, answering questions about your job, hobbies, and your family. Willy kept a close eye on you the entire time, making sure that you weren’t getting overwhelmed by the amount of people who were trying to get to know you all at once. He smiled a little as he watched you engage in a conversation with Mitch about puppies and which breed was superior. He hadn’t been worried about you meeting the guys, he knew you would get along well and they would probably end up liking you more than him.

In his mind it was impossible to not like, you were the sweetest person he had ever crossed paths with, with the exception of maybe his mom. You were constantly doing what you could to help others, taking care of him in the smallest ways like putting his laundry away after a road trip, making his favorite dinner after a rough game, or making sure he followed the trainer’s instructions even if he tried to avoid them. Not to mention that you seemed to make friends everywhere the two of you went, you just had the type of energy that drew people to you.

“Hey, I’m going to grab another drink with the girls, did you want anything?” You asked, pulling him out of his thoughts as you stood up and he smiled a little. “Sure, surprise me.”

He gave your hand one more squeeze as he watched you branch away from him with some of the girls, making your way up to the bar to order your drinks. It was like a proud parent watching their kid go off to school for the first time, it was a sign to Willy that you really were comfortable around his friends now.

“Dude, she is so out of your league.” Mitch snorted, taking a sip of his drink as he watched Willy look after you with that same lost puppy dog expression you had been describing about your own dog only moments ago.

Willy felt his cheeks heat up as he tried to hide his face in the last remnants of his drink, he should have known the second they had him alone they would say something to him.

“I mean seriously, she’s like a walking angel. How did you land her?” Zach asked, joining in on the chirping of their young teammate. Everyone was happy that Willy had found someone who seemed to match his energy, knowing that the blonde deserved the best.

“It’s my undeniable charm boys, maybe you should try it sometime.” He smirked a little, firing back at his teammates as they all erupted into chuckles around him.

“Well if she ever wants a real man, let her know I’m always around.” Rasmus teased, reaching over to mess up Willy’s hair playfully as Willy smacked his hands away.

“She wants a man not a man child.” Willy fired back before he felt a hand on his shoulder, another drink being placed in front of him. “Got your usual!”

He smiled as he saw you sitting back down beside him, shooting a look to the boys to behave, he didn’t mind their chirping but he didn’t know how you would take it seeing as how this was your first time meeting them and while it was going well, he didn’t want it to ruin anything.

The rest of the afternoon continued in a similar manner, the conversation flowed easily, and any time you stepped away from the group Willy was hit with another round of chirping about how you were out of his league. It was all in good fun and by the end of the afternoon you had begun to pick up on some of the chirping that carried over into the normal conversation, firing back at the boys with a smirk.

“I mean, at least Willy knows what he’s doing, when was the last time a girl came back to you after a night?” You shot back at Auston innocently, sipping your drink as Willy and the boys burst into a loud round of laughter, accepting the high fives and the fist bump from Auston.

“On that note, I think we better get going, gotta get my girl home and away from you hooligans.” Willy smiled, throwing his tip money on the table as he helped you up and you waved your goodbyes to the group.

“Bye Y/N! You know where to find us if you ever want an upgrade!” You heard the boys called, laughing as you and Willy made your way back out to the car. The ride home was nice, you were buzzing as you filled Willy in on the conversations he hadn’t been a part of. This continued when you got home too, jabbering away as you made your way upstairs, stripping out of your jeans and sweater, tugging a pair of his sweatpants from the drawer as he sat on the bed, staring at you.

“Damn you are so out of my league.” He muttered to himself, smiling as he watched you glow in relief of his friends approving of you.

“What? Who said I was out of your league?” You frowned a little, setting yourself between his legs and playing with his hair as you looked down at him, his hands resting on your sweatpant clad hips.

“Just the guys chirping at me, don’t worry about it but they do have a point. I am dating a literal angel.” He smiled as he could tell that the heat was rising up your neck to your cheeks again, in an attempt to hide your blush you shook your head. These were the things you usually thought about Willy, not things you were used to him saying about you.

“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror Nylander?” You hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips so he couldn’t argue against you. “Maybe we aren’t out of each other’s leagues but just in a league all our own.”

He smiled against your lips, giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “That’s a pretty elite league to be in, I must’ve gotten called up when I started dating you.”

“You’re running my compromise!” You laughed and pushed his shoulder, hardly enough to budge him. “Now, I had fun today but can we get pizza or something and just chill? My social battery is drained.”

He smiled and stood up, now towering over you gave him the advantage to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

#william nylander #william nylander imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs story #william nylander x reader #william nylander story #william nylander writing #nhl writing #nhl #nhl imagine #toronto maple leafs writing

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redwinterroses · 3 years ago

Note

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

///

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

#here have some impulse hc #as a treat. and because impy deserves it #redwinterwrites #sweet dreams #impulsesv #hermitcraft

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datawyrms · 4 years ago

Text

“Did you apologize to Tucker yet?”

“About what? Wait, are we talking again? I thought we weren’t talking.” The ghost circled back, blindly fumbling with the thermos lid, eyes busy squinting at the hunter’s mask as if it would let him see through it better. “You’re not gonna say it’s fine then shoot me, are you?”

“Why do you always remind me why I don’t like talking to you like this.”

“What’d you mean like ‘this’? Like I should pretend that isn’t a totally valid question?”

Valerie groaned, gesturing at the ghost. “Like that sort of thing is normal!”

Phantom smirked, letting the edges of his boots hit the hoverboard. “Welcome to my life.”

“And how you just keep that stupid confident face up.”

“Uh huh. I thought you were lecturing me about Tucker, not my personality.”

She deeply considered having the board jar the ghost off, but that’d probably just amuse him more. “You seriously don’t remember why you should be apologizing?”

“Well according to you, I should basically apologize for existing. So sometimes I lose track on the particulars.” There was an edge there that the blithe tone couldn’t quite cover up, even as the ghost sat down. “Y’gonna enlighten me or what? I’m bad at twenty questions.”

“You broke your promise to him, remember?”

The blank stare she earned in response was absolutely infuriating. “Uhhh. Which one?” He had the sense to look embarrassed, hand glued to the back of his neck.

That wasn’t going to help him though. Shooting him was actually sounding like a fair idea if it was the only thing that would get him to actually learn and pay attention. “To stop possessing people. The big one? The really easy one that NONE of his other friends need to worry about doing ‘accidentally’?”

“Wow Val, if you just wanted to say you think I’m weird you didn’t need to drag Tuck into it.” The embarrassment slid into a scowl easily enough, arms crossed as if that would defend him. “I haven’t done that for months.”

“He’s been telling you he hates it for years.” Before she even figured out Danny’s dead man walking secret. Tucker was too good a friend to be ignored for literal years because a ghost conveniently forgot how fucked up it was to invade someone’s body and use them as an unwilling meat puppet if it was ‘helpful’.

“I try, okay? I’m not doing it to upset him!”

“Somehow everyone else can manage without doing it.”

The ghost tilted his head. “Well duh, you guys can’t.”

“Even if we could, we wouldn’t.” She snapped, the confusion and completely casual excusing of his actions just a little too much to deal with. “Heroes don’t control people.”

“Well excuse me for needing to protect myself. If what I am gets out to the wrong people, I’m dead. More dead.” He groaned face in hand “You know what I mean. Worse than dead. Dani too.”

“Do you really think Tucker’s dad would have ratted your whispy ass out? That he wouldn’t help you explain? Or was it just an excuse to let yourself do what you want?”

“Well you seem to have decided that it was! Which it wasn’t!” His eyes flared green with the defence, and Valarie had to work to not react to the impulsive want to get away from an angry ghost. “I just- reacted, okay? I told him that!”

“Well Tucker and Sam keep forgetting how much of a ghost you are, so of course they won’t buy that excuse.”

“Excuse? It’s not an excuse!” He was up, the offended squawk reminding her so much of how he was before. When they were all fourteen, and every uncomfortable problem could be chalked up to being ‘a moody teenager’ and ignored for a while longer. “And you could stop saying ghost like that, while you’re at it?” The glow dimmed, but he kept the distance. “Sound like my dad.”

“What, you want me to say it like you do when they keep coming here to threaten people? Deal with it.”

“There are plenty of ghosts who don’t do that.”

“Yeah. They don’t come here, and they aren’t my problem,” she shrugged, considering. “I’ll say it nice to them.”

“Oh, real funny.”

“You deserve it.”

She expected a scoff, at least. Probably a laugh, considering how often he’d joke about being the town’s public enemy for a time. Instead he averted his eyes. “Maybe we can finish this talk on the ground?”

It was easier to be ticked off at him when he was joking, or steamed himself. Phantom didn’t ‘do’ uneasy. Maybe it was a good sign that he was actually listening, if he wanted to continue ‘off the clock’. “Space cadet wants to land? Sure, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t go with ‘want’, but yeah.”

It wasn’t much trouble, in the middle of the day. A quick glance while hidden in at least one direction was enough. People who lived in Amity Park knew they should get out of the area of a ghost sighting at this point. Even if she and Phantom were trusted enough to deal with it, stray shots happened. Things fell. Not too many eyes to avoid, even if her identity felt like an open secret most of the time.

Danny had it even easier. He just had to think. It felt like a sick joke, that he could stop being dead on a whim and blend in fairly well. The gangly man leaning against the tree looked human. Black hair, blue eyes, needed a tan, unremarkable. Average. Unless you knew what to look for, anyway. How a casual slouch didn’t match up with how he was always looking for something, a tense energy that seemed desperate to crack free of that spine. That he could walk in winter with the thinnest of jackets and not shake from the cold even once. “Hey.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, sitting on the bench. “Hey yourself.”

Danny grimaced, looking up and away. “How much of a ghost I am, huh?” It wasn’t an angry question, exactly. He was still slouching, hands in pockets. Guarded and uneasy. How much of that fear and caution the person she thought she knew, and how much of it was just another part of his act?

“You’ve said you’re at least half of one.”

“Yeah. You just make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

The whole crux of the issue, really. How no one really knew how to deal with Danny, his secret and how he’d changed. “It’s not a bad thing on it’s own.”

“So I’m the part you like to sneer at,” his brow furrowed, the creases and wrinkles more ominous as blue slid closer to green. “I thought we went over this. You know what actually happened. How I never really attacked people.”

She admired Tucker and Sam’s patience, she really did. “We have. It’s not about that stuff. That’s years ago, you know it. It’s the other stuff.”

The anger was gone in an instant. “What other stuff?”

He was a living migraine waiting to happen. “How you keep thinking things from seven years ago are more important than things happening right now?”

“Hey, you’re the one that held the grudge for two.”.

“Months. Not years.”

He slouched more at the correction, apparently very interested in his own hands. “Oh. Right.”

“You haven’t been using the reminders like Jazz told you to, have you.”

“I can remember fine! I don’t need some box doing it for me. I’ve just been busy.”

Busy. That was his excuse this time? She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Okay, what year is it?”

“Uhm.” he paused to pick at a non existent loose thread “One starting in 2?”

“Danny.”

“What! Lots of people don’t care too much about the time.”

He didn’t even try to guess within ten years. There was living in the present, and there was this. “No, you know your ghost side makes you act in certain ways and keep denying it. So you still get the complete pain version of ghost. Get it?”

“I’m not that different.” He wouldn’t look at her, hand clenching. “I’m human too, you know.”

“Uhuh. The way your eyes flare up when you’re mad is super human.” She ignored his scowl, pushing forward. “I get it. You don’t like being reminded. Tuck and Sam try to ignore it for your sake.”

“Val, I’m not denying it okay? I know. It’s pretty obvious!”

“Then stop pretending you don’t know. They’re trying so hard to help you have a chance of getting a job that isn’t with your parents and you won’t even use the reminders to help you remember where in time you are!”

That got him to bristle, shaking off his slouch in a sudden reminder of how tall he really was. “Why does it matter? We’re all just kidding ourselves about me ever leaving here.”

“So you just won’t try? Just give up on finding anything else? For someone who keeps insisting he’s human, you sure seem eager to ditch that half of your life.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.”

“Then what are you doing? Because all I’ve seen you do is get tetchy about ghosts and instinctively do ghost things. When you’re human.”

“I’m putting in the work.You know it’s hard to study or hold down a job.”

“So stop making it harder on yourself.They’ve found ways to help keep you grounded, so do it.” Sam should be saying this, of course. She’d heard it frustratedly repeated so many times, but she never dared to actually say it to the one who had to hear it. Because he was already prone to pulling away or vanishing when you pressed too hard, made things too uncomfortable. Ghosts didn’t do coping, and Danny was never great at facing personal issues head on before becoming a menace to her sanity either. “You think making things harder makes you more of a hero?”

“‘Course not.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking for an escape, an out. “I shouldn’t need that stuff, alright?”

Now it was her turn to be puzzled. “Why shouldn’t you?”

A lopsided grin answered her question. “Who likes admitting they’re a freak?” The tree no longer had a human standing by it, but his voice was easy enough to hear. “ But I guess some people care about a freak like me anyway.”

(did Valerie use a tracker to smack him and say ‘you’re not a freak’ right after this? yes)

#Danny Phantom #valerie gray #dp side hoes week 2021 #i only did two prompts #because im bad #tbh should be fleshed out more #but them going into too much detail of what's the issue would be unnatural sounding #and already kinda is lol #but idk ghosts not really being 'down' with time was an interesting idea #to me anyway #my random thoughts are random #tbh so mucch good stuff around that im all 'lol why u adding' bu #content is content ye #i should stop musing in tags

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scriptaed · 4 years ago

Text

his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut;

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?”

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call.

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows.

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer.

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.”

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?”

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz.

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought.

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.”

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :)

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?”

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission.

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.”

“Even a blind date?”

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!”

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?”

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.”

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now.

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives.

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished.

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself.

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!”

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?”

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse.

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired.

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships.

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?”

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie.

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!”

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets.

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!”

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?”

“Well…”

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths.

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background.

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left.

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose.

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence.

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence.

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.”

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.”

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?”

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.”

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.”

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night.

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest.

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves.

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.”

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart.

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.”

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.”

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been.

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her.

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest.

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined.

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination.

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs.

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale.

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time.

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?”

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless.

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!”

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate.

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact.

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

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infernal-fire · 4 years ago

Text

Long Forgotten

I am choosing to not use warnings. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with themes of infidelity, angst, swearing and sexual innuendos.

Summary: Your Steve isn’t yours anymore and you’re beginning to understand why.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairings: Steve x reader and a surprise appearance ;)

Disclaimer: this is set right after Endgame

A/N: this story was inspired by @nsfwsebbie’s fic please don’t take him (even though you can). it was so damn amazing. i thought of how the situation would go under different circumstances, and added a more strong willed reader into the mix :)

i tried to proofread but im sort of posting in a rush so all mistakes are my own!

(This GIF does not belong to me)

Your head was nestled in the crook of Steve’s neck and his arms were cradling your tired form. Dried tears left your face feeling dry and your up do from the funeral was now tousled. Steve let out a heavy sigh and held you a little tighter.

You could fall asleep if it weren’t for the looming stress of returning the stones so you decided to bide your time by focusing on the super soldier’s unnaturally slow heartbeat.

“We should go, sweetheart. They’re waiting for me.” his voice broke the placid silence that had enveloped the room.

You silently got off the bed and Steve’s hand nudged yours, stopping you from reaching the door.

He slowly pulled you towards him and you met him halfway, face-to-face.

“I know things aren’t great right now. But we’ll get through this,” he spoke lowly as his large hands cupped your face. They felt rough against your supple skin, but his touch was as tender as ever.

You stared into his eyes for a moment before speaking. "I’ll come with you,” you offered.

“No,” he affirmed. His tone was firm yet a touch of softness was reserved in there somewhere, just for you.

“I love you Y/N. I’ll love you no matter what,” he said as he pulled your head into his chest and engulfed your body into his.

You reached the new, mini version of the previously destroyed time travel contraption Tony made. Sam, Bucky and Professor Hulk were engaging in light conversation that clearly, none of them were interested in. You look up at Steve, who was as tense as ever, clutching your hand like a vice. He let go and glanced back at you before joining Sam.

You knew deep down that Steve would never be the same anymore. Hell, after the Battle of Wakanda, Steve almost ended the relationship because the Avengers lost.

But the Avengers won this time, and things should feel different. So why did it feel like he was leaving forever?

You recalled the very short conversation you had with him about Tony’s snap.

“I should have snapped,” he sobbed.

“You’ve always been selfless your whole life. This was Tony’s time to be selfless, and you don’t get to take that away from him.” You hugged him and cried with him.

There was nothing else to be said.

How much you wished no one had to die.

He stood on the platform and nodded at Bruce before locking eyes with you.

Apologetic. He looked apologetic.

At the time, you thought he just looked sad. You assumed it was residual sadness from the funeral but looking back, you realized he looked apologetic for what he was about to do.

Rebuilding your relationship wasn’t easy. Tony and Nat’s death and the trauma of the battle were overshadowing both of your feelings. You salvaged what you could and life returned to a “normal” that never existed.

Being an Avenger means your living costs are covered by Tony, basically compensating for the missions. Only there weren’t any missions anymore. You were grateful but it meant that you had a lot of time on your hands.

You took up a job as a waitress and Steve continued running sessions at the VA with Sam. It was humbling to be serving people at a diner after fighting alongside some of Earth’s mightiest heroes. But you needed it. And slowly but steadily, happiness crept its way into the tower.

You didn’t see Steve around anymore though. You weren’t sure if you were even together anymore, aside from the forehead kisses and lingering glances.

You and Bucky set the table while you heard Sam and Steve banter over who gets to choose the movie today. Bucky chuckled and called them to eat.

There was relentless teasing, jokes being tossed around and big smiles everywhere.

“The nurse had poked him 2 times at this point and there was no blood coming out of him.” Sam laughed.

“So she asks me if we can do the other arm.” Bucky snorted through breaths of amusement.

“This guy pulls up his sleeve and the girl faints.” Sam howled as everyone doubled over in laughter.

You wiped a tear from your eye and you look over at Steve who was laughing as well. It had been a long time since you’ve seen him so happy.

Sure, he’d been distant. He hadn’t touched you since he came back. It had been 2 months though, and you wondered if you should try again tonight. You put a hand over Steve’s and he snapped his head to you. He gave you a small smile before slipping his hand out from under yours and picking up a napkin.

He needed the napkin, you told yourself.

You went up to change into something that he might find more appealing. You were torn between the red lace set or the black corset. You settled for the classic red lace and tied on a robe before heading downstairs to tease him a little.

“You’re going to tell her before you go right?” You heard Sam’s voice and broke your stride to the kitchen.

“She won’t be happy.” You swore it was Steve’s voice but it was a little too quiet to be sure. You silently padded toward the kitchen, standing right outside the entrance to hear better.

“Of course she won’t be happy. You went back to be with a girl from 70 years ago and spent 4 months with her. You sort of cheated on her Steve.” Bucky’s voice quipped at Steve.

You couldn’t be hearing right. Steve went back and got together with Peggy?

“It’s not sort of cheating, he almost got married to her,” Sam remarked in rebuttal.

He almost got married to her.

There was so much information to process. Your shoulder sagged with the weight of the news and you cupped your mouth before anyone could hear your sob.

“But I came back.” Steve countered.

“Do you love her?” Bucky lowered his voice and inquired.

“I don’t know anymore.”

Your chest heaved and eyes burned. You wanted to gasp for air but you knew if you breathed, you would let out the anguish building in your stomach.

Your back hit the wall and you slid down, not caring if he hears anymore.

In moments, Steve, Bucky and Sam appear beside you with startled faces.

You didn’t look at them as you got up and paced to your room. You thought you heard Steve’s voice calling after you but your thoughts pounded and clawed at the insides of your head. You couldn’t be sure and you weren’t going to turn back now.

He didn’t run after you. You had predicted that he didn’t want to deal with your hysterical crying which surely could be heard past your room walls. When you considered it, this new Steve was actually quite predictable; you knew he wouldn’t bother bringing it up to you until you brought it up yourself. Because he was a coward like that, you decided. All of his actions spoke for themself and the one true motive behind his cheating is cowardice. You don’t know if you would have been okay with him going back to Peggy, but if he talked about it, things not have ended the way they did.

After 2 days of not leaving your room, you knew that there was a better way to handle this. It wasn’t you who should be embarrassed; instead of sulking, you marched to his room with newfound determination.

You threw open his door that he didn’t even bother locking. Steve was mid-speech with someone on the phone, seemingly a conversation that wasn’t going his way. He seemed tense, his muscles protruding from the tight white t-shirt pulled over him.

Your jaw ticked as you shifted your weight onto one foot and rested on the doorframe, waiting for him to end the call.

“I’m sorry to cut this short. We have a lot to talk about but it’ll have to happen in-person.” he concluded the phone call and sat on the bed with his head in his arms.

“Seems like you planned it all.” you commented, trying to sound like you didn’t care. In reality, the wound was still very fresh. Even though a part of you had known that the relationship was over for some time now, you were only coming to terms with it now.

“I wanted to tell you before I left, but you were just so upset and I couldn’t …” he trailed off.

“All of a sudden you care about me? And now this is somehow my fault that you were too chicken to tell me,” you retorted, unimpressed with his answer.

“I have always cared about you and always will.” He got up and walked towards you. He cupped your face but you pushed his hand off, glaring up at him.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I admit I could’ve handled everything lot better but Y/N. When you told me Tony’s snap was his moment of selflessness, I realized that all I’ve ever done is be selfless. And I don’t regret any of it. But it was time I chose to do something for myself. Then I remembered Peggy and the life I left behind and I just knew this world would be okay without me so I chose to be selfish. I chose to be selfish, Y/n, and I don’t regret that either.”

You were crying now, and Steve reached to wipe it off, but you smacked his hand.

“You used to choose me. You woke up everyday and chose us. The day you decided you didn’t want this anymore, you decided you would just go ‘fuck all’ and cheat on me? You couldn’t have ended it like a normal person?” you questioned through your tears. Your vision was foggy but you kept wiping your eyes, trying not let him see your tears.

He sighed and let a few moments stretch on before he answered.

“We both know that this relationship was over a long time ago Y/N.”

You noted his use of your name and not the usual pet name ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’. It saddened you even more to think that he doesn’t associate those words with you anymore.

“You’re a fucking bastard Rogers. You are the biggest coward I have ever met in my life. You may be the Captain America, but you are the biggest wimp in real life.” You could tell he was fuming because of your comment but you continued your spiel.

“I tried everything to make this work. The moment that the thought of cheating crossed your mind, you should have broken my heart. Because all you did now was rip it out and stomp on it before spitting on the what’s left-”

“I can’t believe you’re standing here accusing me of not trying to make this work. You know what Y/N? I fucking left Peggy because I thought about you and thought I could make this work. And then I came back and remembered all the reasons why this wouldn’t work and now I regret it. I wish I could go back to Peggy.”

“Go fuck yourself Rogers,” you muttered and turned to leave. “Actually, go fuck Peggy’s skeleton Steve. I curse you with every cell in my body. I hope you never get to see her again. I know you’re trying to go back,” you added before wiping you final tear, once and for all. There was no way you were going to shed another tear on this asshole.

Except, it wasn’t that simple. You did cry over it more, but if there’s anything you did right, it was making sure he never saw your tears.

You also found that post-break up glow up’s were a real thing. The lack of missions means you didn’t need to see Steve unless you chose to be in the same space as him. So you chose to make new friends and bring new light into your life. There was no dread clouding your judgment because for once, there was no impending threat on the future of Earth.

You cut your hair, you changed up your wardrobe and got as fit as you’ve ever been. Your friends made frequent stops at the Tower which eventually turned into dragging you into their bar hopping.

On the other hand, Steve was doing everything he could to go back to Peggy, just like you had predicted. You manifested his downfall. Hank Pym refused to let his work fall into the hands of the Avengers and Steve was having a very hard time convincing him otherwise. The final nail in the coffin was when Hank decided that Pym Particles should not be produced anymore. As long as the world didn’t understand the entirety of the quantum realm, no one should have access to something that could mess with it. No arguments could ensue because there was nothing anyone could say to change Hank’s mind.

As much as Bucky and Sam wanted him to go back, they knew he deserved it for everything you were put through. When Steve found that his friends weren’t on the same page as him, he spiraled deeper into regret and depression. There wasn’t much to be done in terms of world-saving, which is what he was made for. The person he thought was the love of his life is gone now. When the dust settled, he realized that you were the only thing that kept him going for so long. But now he lost you too, and there was nothing he could do get you back.

While you were out living your new life, Steve was trying to find a life for himself. He would see you around the compound and wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of your love. What he would do to feel that again, he couldn’t explain to anyone.

Your escapades were at an all-time high. You knew that single life is the life. Just when you finally concluded that all men were trash, Ransom came crashing into your life. Although he only reinforced this belief, this man wasn’t just any trash. He was your trash.

He was the mutual of your friends and you seemed to never be able to escape him. Moreover, your friends decided that you wouldn’t escape him.

The teasing and playful banter between you two turned into something more serious about a year after your break-up. Ransom was everything Steve wasn’t.

Steve was a gentleman. Chivalrous. Gentle.

Then you reminded yourself that he had proven to you that he wasn’t any of things anymore. Ransom was the exact opposite, but he wore it on his sleeve. After all the lies and cowardice, Ransom’s blunt and bold attitude was exactly what you needed.

There were moments you found yourself comparing the nature of the two relationships. With Steve, a lot of it was gentle and soft with some roughness around the edges. Life alongside Ransom was nothing short of callous, but that’s why soft, vulnerable moments felt even more extraordinary and special.

If you made a judgement based off first impressions, someone like Ransom seems to be more likely to cheat than someone like Steve Rogers. Upon deeper analyzation though, Ransom doesn’t have any skeletons in his closet. He doesn’t claim things easily, but when he does, he would go to any length to make sure what’s his, will stay his. Soon after you realized this, you began abandoning thoughts of comparing the two relationships.

There was a party at the Tower for Sam’s birthday. It was the first time in a long time that you were going to be around Steve for longer than 10 minutes. Doubt began seeping through your determination; how well would you fare under the pressure of pretending to be okay around him?

“Do we have to match, sugar?” Ransom whined from your bathroom.

“Why would you even go to an event as a couple if you aren’t matching?” you hollered back.

You heard Ransom grumble as the bathroom door swung open. The emerald green dress shirt with small gold polka dots complemented his eyes so perfectly. Ransom was about to complain again before seeing the look of awe on your face. He decided right then that he could suck it up for the night.

You were wearing an emerald green cocktail dress with sheer black net covering your shoulders, your sleeves reaching your elbows. The material was different, but the print was the exact same as Ransom’s. He couldn’t help but wonder why you put so much effort into such little things. He made a mental note to do something like this for you another time before wrapping his arms around your frame, burying his face into your face.

“Ran! My hair!” you squealed as you tried to push him off.

“Usually it’s me that takes this long to get ready. You trying to impress the Captain?” Ransom winked and sat on your bed.

“Oh fuck off.” you rolled your eyes and added the big bow to your half up hair-do.

“You look so innocent baby. How angelic would you look with my cum dripping out of your mouth?” he smirked as you dropped your mouth, looking at him through the mirror.

“My god Ran, this is not the time.” You shook your head and pulled him with you, finally making your way to the party downstairs.

You were breaking out into cold sweat for some reason. Part of you really wanted to show Steve how happy you were now, but you felt that it meant you weren’t truly over him. Were you making a mistake?

Right before you opened the door the common room where the party was ongoing, Ransom stopped you and looked right into your eyes.

“You know, as much as I’d like to make your ex jealous, if you don’t want this, I could think of a lot of other ways to spend the night,” he winked and you blushed. This is exactly why you liked him so much. There was no pressure to be anything but yourself around him. Even if you told him you wanted to go back to your room, there would be no judgement on his behalf. He wouldn’t ever bring it up as a joke either, because he just knew what he could and couldn’t joke about.

“Let’s do this, bubbles” you giggled. He groaned at the nickname and pulled you into his side with one arm, opening the door with the other.

One of Ransom’s many talents was making an entrance and this event was no exception. As you walked through the entrance, Ransom kept his head high and pulled you along with him. His confidence began rubbing off you and within a few steps, you stopped slouching. Straightening you back and tossing your hair behind your back, you bathed in the glory of the looks you and Ransom were getting. He took you straight to the bar, smiled at you and ordered drinks.

“You know, your ex was fuming in the corner,” he remarked as he sipped on his drink.

“No!” you laughed incredulously, unable to imagine Steve begin angry over Ransom’s presence.

“It’s true, look for yourself,” he calmly retorted. His eyes flicked to a corner of the room and you followed his gaze there. Steve looked away upon seeing you look at him but it was clear that he was flustered. Bucky stood beside him, entertaining a gaggle of girls, but Steve’s attention was clearly elsewhere.

“He’s actually pretty hot in person, it’s making me jealous” Ransom nonchalantly mentioned.

You threw your head back and laughed. Your doubts of whether this was a good idea were dissipating very quickly.

Ransom chuckled and then looked at you intently. You looked back at him, the high of the laugh wearing off because of his intense stare.

“I think I’m in love with you.” you blurted.

“You know, I’m glad you said it because I did not want to say it first.” he snickered and you playfully punched him.

“Ow! I’m just kidding, don’t go all Avengers-mode on me!” he fussed.

You pulled him into a tight hug. He peeled your head away from his chest to cup your face and give you a light kiss before whispering ‘I love you too.’ You started to tear up, thinking of all the pain you had to go through to get this moment of tranquility with your favourite person in the whole, wide world.

He cooed and kissed your forehead.

“I always got you.” he assured and pulled your head back into his chest. You smiled and broke away from the hug, sitting back on the bar stool.

“I think you transferred your lipstick because you have a dark red lip mark on your forehead.”

You groaned and frantically wiped your forehead.

“Hey,” he caught your wrist. “Why don’t we go back up and fix that?” His eyes glinted in the dim lights and you giggled like a schoolgirl as he pushed through the crowd.

In that moment, and every moment after it, Steve was long forgotten.

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herenortherenearnorfar · 3 years ago

Text

This Tornado Tolerates And Respects You

A little story about Gothmog and orcs that I’ll probably put on other sites later. But for now, a tumblr exclusive! CW for the terrible reproductive politics of evil (implied reproductive coercion, forced childbearing, light eugenics), orc awfulness, disdain for incarnates, radiation poisoning, chemical weapons, Fingon’s fate, mentions of cannibalism, malnourishment, ear cropping, and all of the above with the implied harm to children.

Orcs, Lord Melkor’s special pet project, a blasphemy first and a strategic asset second, didn’t make the best troops. They could swarm over a target in a useful mass of bodies but they lacked skill and drive. For the Captain of Angband’s own force of fire and shadow, spirits sprung free from the tyranny of the Valar, orcs were a sea of troublesome bodies, cluttering up the field of battle. More flesh to whip through, barbed wire quick, more lungs to choke with lime gas. An annoyance, not an ally.

He didn’t have very high expectations of them as a source of soldiers and there were very few individual orcs who he respected. Gorfaunt was one of those rare exceptions.

They’d fought on the same battlefield under the taunting stars, in those blissful days before the heavens changed, and he’d been impressed by the orc commanders ability to marshal troops. Very few in that division ended up trampled beneath Balrog feet. Even the retreat was prompt, almost orderly, without sacrificing that wild spirit which was one of the orcs’ few redeeming qualities.

When it came time to capture the stripling-king of the elves he’d requested Gorfaunt’s orcs in particular. Once again they’d proven their mettle and the commander had become of of the Captain’s favorites. If orcs had to be stationed next to their betters it was preferable that it be Gorfaunt’s orcs, who knew how to comport themselves and could fight near Balrogs without dying in droves.

Now with the latest glorious battle (and another successful collaboration, the Captain still glowed at the memory of the Noldor’s latest king cracking open to spill his red insides over his silver banner) behind them and Lord Melkor demanding Nargothrond and Gondolin, they met once a month to strategize, share intelligence, and complain about everyone else. To an outsider they might have passed as friends. There was less formality between the two of them than another high general of the iron fortress might have demanded, they sat at the same table and spoke freely.

(The Lieutenant still asked commanders to bow before him; that was why even his own troops called him Sauron behind his back. Gothmog was a superior appellation, less insulting, more fearful, but he still didn’t hasten to encourage its use.)

Despite their surface level amicability and the handful of tried-and-true inside jokes—mostly having to do with how enemies had died— they could bat at each other, they knew very little about each other’s lives. Meat and smoke only mixed when making a brisket, trying to relate two such different ways of being seemed impossible.

But when he saw Gorfaunt waddling into their monthly kvetch with a belly round and swollen like a tick’s, the Captain felt driven to say something. He was the marshal of Angband, he couldn’t let his king’s forces go to seed.

“Are you ill? Cursed?”

Gorfaunt managed to pull out a chair, made for a Balrog three times the size of an orc, and hoist themselves into it with rangy arms. “No? Just five months with a baby kicking around in my insides. The little bugger’s finally starting to show itself.”

That took a second to decipher. “You’re having a baby?”

Of course the Captain knew the basics of how incarnates made more of themselves. It was a topic of great fascination in the old days, when Yavanna was first figuring the system out, and of course the Lieutenant would prattle on about warg breeding to anyone who’d listen. They had sex— another thing that did not come naturally to beings of spirits, though some Maiar had made astounding progress in the field, for pleasure was pleasure and even Nienna’s acolytes sought catharsis and comfort—then there was lots of squishy biology on a level invisible to the incarnates themselves, then a little parasite was somehow blessed with Erú’s fire, to be nurtured until it could nurture itself.

He also knew that orcs, like elves and dwarves, had little distinction between men and womenfolk. Useful when it meant you could channel your entire adult population to battle. Startling when you realized that a key ally had been quietly pregnant for months without you, a greater being able to perceive stalactites growing and the scales on insect wings, noticing.

In truth he’d been doing a lot less noticing of late. His senses were dulling. Perhaps it was the light of the cursed gems, which painted everything in blinding, indistinguishable holiness. Or he was just losing his touch.

If he focused now he could see it. It was easiest to sense on the plane of wraiths. There was Gorfaunt, a guttering candle; wheezing, weak. All orcs had that fire, however dim. No one had managed to fully extinguish it though it had been much suppressed. Tucked against her, nearly imperceptible, was a little spark. Not much yet but given tinder and carefully fanned it could grow. “You’re having a baby,” he marveled.

Gorfaunt’s face was… orcs were hard to read at the best of times, bubbling over with noisy pain and anger that obscured their true emotions, prone to skin diseases and horrendous eye infections that muddled their expressions. She didn’t wear her gas mask around him anymore, though most were quick to cover up around any Maia of Morgoth. It helped little, her face was still opaque as the mountain itself. “Yep, Captain.”

“Good?” You congratulated an ally on a new weapon, a new bond, a promotion. Which one was an infant classified as? What was the correct form?

“Hopefully it’ll be over and the little goblin will be in the caves with the old’uns by the time we find either of the cities.” Gorfaunt provided, only barely contextualizing his felicitations. She was chewing on the inside on her cheek; sometimes she would gnaw until she spat black blood. “Terrible time for it. Terrible time. But the high ups are worried about reinforcements down the line, I suppose.”

Orcs came from orcs. It was a fact so simple it barely bore considering. Another department handled it. The new ones just showed up, springy and long limbed, faces still soft and unmarred. “Goblins” he’d heard older orcs call those fresh pale creatures. Barely even monsters, more like stunted, crepuscular versions of the elves and dwarves they fought.

“How much longer?” They had a few good leads on Nargothrond, a promising word about Túrin Turambar. The Captain could not sack that city himself, the honor had already been promised to the sulfurous worm. Apparently they wanted to test the mettle of these dragons. But Gothmog could assign a few good orc commanders to supervise, make sure the worm was not overstepping his bounds.

Dark blood trickled out of the corner of Gorfaunt’s mouth. “Five months, I’m told. Could be more, could be less. Then I have to wait until the thing is independent enough to leave alone, that’s another few months.” She was probably counting months as the orcs had started to, by the moon. Wretched traitor, Tilion, who’d laughed with them at the idea of running away then turned his face when the time came to flee for freedom. They hated it as much as everyone else but in their hatred they were aware of its cycles. They rejoiced when it went dark.

“You’ll still be able to manage your underlings?” Orcs, and freed Maiar, were fractious. They did not respect a leader who lacked the strength to force them to obey. It could be exhausting. And Gorfaunt was already so round. The Captain did not wish to lose her support over one orcling.

“I think so. So far… in old days you’d den up somewhere for a year, avoid everyone prowling for blood, but I don’t want to fight my way up the ranks again. I’ve got an ax and I’m using it.” Despite that she sounded tired.

Long heartbeats stretched between them, that exquisite embarrassment of two coworkers suddenly forced to talk about private affairs.

“This is your first,” the Captain didn’t reach the tone of a question with that one.

“Yes. The recruiters were getting growly so I grabbed a fellow. I’ve been avoiding it for too long.”

“You don’t want a child.” Again, not quite a question. He was feeling it out as he goes along. This is the longest conversation about orc reproduction he’s ever paid attention to, for the Lieutenants diatribes we’re always dull.

It was no matter to him, except that this was the only orc commander he could tolerate working with and she was chewing through her own cheek in discomfort.

“They take something from you,” Gorfaunt admitted. “Dame and sire both, but worse for the dame since she has to carry the clot. You go… stretchy. Bleached like old bone. I’ve seen soldiers and after twenty children they’re not good for anything but shoving onto a line of pikes. Raw meat for the wargs.”

That didn’t make sense to him, but he was never a scholar of flesh or spirit. He knew how a skull split and how a soul fled, how this matter-sprung life withered, how it died. That was all that counted. He also knew how to value a resource.

“There won’t be any after this,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t want them.” If need be he’d escalate to Lord Melkor, frame it as sapping strength from their command structure and propose making officers off limits from breeding programmes.

“As you command, Captain,” she said with a bowed head, but she looked gratifyingly relieved, and their conversation could finally move on to the latest stories of occupied territories and the search for the hidden cities.

The next few months Gorfaunt somehow managed to get bigger and bigger, until she was no longer able to swing herself into a chair and had to take their meeting standing. Her leather armor no longer fit and with just a thin layer of rags over her distended stomach it was easy to see the squirming creature inside.

Ferocious little animal. It would go so still and then kick out again, as if it could burst free of its creator by force of will alone. The kernel of its mind was forming too, a hazy bubble of sensation and half formed emotion. He could see what had the Lieutenant fascinated. It wasn’t his field but it was morbidly interesting, seeing the shape of something new and moldable come together right in front of you.

But he had not been made a sculptor or a craftsman. He’d been born a wild thing, a tornado, a volcano, every disaster meant to fell cities, and though he had not known the words yet he’d sensed in his core, seen in glimpses in the song, that he was a creature of war. Like many other wild things—Ossë, the simpering coward tied up in Uinen’s tresses, excluded— he’d found his way to Melkor in the end. Oh, he’d idled for a time with Vána, heard Námo’s dolorous call, but it was Melkor who he came back to and Melkor who he picked in the end.

Melkor taught him so many more ways to be. The smoke, the blood, the screaming not in sorrow but in anger. He taught the others who came to him as well. In the Captain’s little squad alone there was one who learned the slaver’s whip and the threat of fire, one who learned the ooze of pus and malodorous air, one who came to appreciate the ravenings of rabid beasts. From the dragons in the treasure-caves to the cat in the kitchen to the vampires in the highest towers, they were all Melkor’s creations.

Gorfaunt, born and raised here in the shadow of his ancient power, was even more Melkor’s than most. This was how the Captain rationalized his continuing fondness for her as she weakened, his interest in her spawn. Works of the same maker might gravitate together. They could see parts of themselves in each other, the way he could once see himself in other Ëalar born of the same bit of song.

When Gorfaunt came in four months after their revelatory meeting with a sagging belly and a bundle nestled against her chest he was excited to finally see what had been made.

It took a bit of coaxing to get her to show him the baby but no orc would outright refuse an order from anyone stronger than them, they knew better than that. The newborn was dutifully unwrapped and presented, though Gorfaunt’s expression suggested that she considered this all a silly waste of time.

It was a rumpled wet creature; mostly skin and bones, with a cranium as big as its rounded torso. Small too, barely bigger than Gorfaunt’s hand, and Gorfaunt was smaller than all elves and many humans; based on overheard complaints failure to grow was an ongoing issue with their kind. When it was unswaddled sticklike limbs flailed out and began batting at the air ineffectually. Despite this wriggling its face remained in a sleepy scowl. It wasn’t until Gothmog moved one cherry-hot finger closer to it that it opened its hazy grey eyes and tried to focus on him. Even then the dismayed frown stayed put.

An unscarred orc was always an interesting sight; for it revealed the scale of their reworking. How much orcishness was self-replicating, as the Lieutenant liked to claim, and how much had to be beaten in? This one had a droopy brow bone and already peeling corpse-grey skin but it did not look much like an orc besides that. It even had hair, which most orcs lacked (aside from a few lank patches). The fine red down covered its whole body, thickest on the head and face and arms.

“It’s supposed to fall out,” Gorfaunt said, “Everyone says it’ll fall out soon. Even the prisoners lose their hair after a while, especially in the deep mines.”

That was probably because of the miasma of decay that emanated from the ores of Angband. Not macro-decay, of skin and bone (that came later) but the infitesimal decay. Every piece of metal— every piece of existence, when you got down to it— was made of little stars. There was a gaseous center of energy and little orbiting specks around that, spinning in probabilistic loops. Like stars some were bigger and some were smaller and some were ready to collapse. Ilmarë loved to speak of supernovas. The yellow and blue metals below the mountain were full of little stars collapsing, reforming, giving off energy in great sums as they did so.

The Captain had noted the negative effects of this energetic output on incarnates some time ago. Elves sickened and humans just died— Lord Melkor had moved the man he hoped would give him the location of Gondolin far from those mines for a reason. A few of the spirits with natures inclined towards metal, salt, and industry had already incorporated the burning energy into their signatures. The Lieutenant doubtless had some wicked little experiment running with it. It was a part of life here, that background hum of a trillion crumbling particles, and the Captain never thought of the effect on orcs, though they were exposed from birth.

Now that he focused he could see the little crumbs of decay glancing off the baby.

Hmm.

It would probably be fine.

It was already rubbing its eyes and going back to sleep, one hand curled next to a crumpled, not-yet-cropped ear.

“Are you recovered?” he asked Gorfaunt.

“I’m fit enough to fight,” she said shortly, defensively, as if afraid he’d snatch her command from her. “I’ll be better soon when this thing is gone.”

The Captain’s huge palm hovered over her infant. He knew better than to touch; his ability to change forms was not what it once was, he could not stop being a bipedal avalanche, to strong, too close, too dangerous. Even just containing the noxious gases— the pustulent yellow and choking green— simmering inside this war shaped body was difficult. If he kept a few feet distance the chaotic heat of his skin faded into the air and the baby wriggled contentedly in the ambient glow, like a little lizard.

“And how long will that be?”

Gorfaunt’s hand twitched. Another few months, till it can manage worm meal and listen to the grands.”

It seemed impossible that anything could be big enough to leave alone in such a short time; but incarnation was not the Captain’s specialty. “And that’s the accepted practice?”

“A little young, but safe now that the master put a stop to the baby eating problem.”

“I wouldn’t want it to be a concern,” the Captain said very seriously, even though his fingers curled slightly around the baby’s limp body. “We can make modifications if the child must stay longer.”

Gorfaunt glanced down at her sprawled offspring. “I don’t— I don’t want this to last any longer. I’d rather have my life go back to normal.”

That, at least, he could understand. It has been a rather troubling experience overall. Revelations are not always useful and though he’s gained some knowledge it’s not very practical stuff.

“One more question, commander, then I’ll drop the matter. What is it named??”

That nascent mind bubble had sharpened with time and experience but was still comprised mostly of sensation. He could not even grasp at a basic sense of self. The child’s mother should know what if calls itself, if anyone did.

(He wanted to remember the name, for forty years from now, when he needed more good orcs. All those rants about the fundamentals of inheritance left him with some ideas about how incarnates develop traits. Another Gorfaunt would be a helpful tool to have on hand.)

The question left Gorfaunt unimpressed. “It doesn’t name itself anything yet, it hasn’t got the common sense. And no one’s given it a name because it hasn’t done anything interesting.”

“It has an interesting look” the Captain pointed out, “Tell them to call it Red Cap,” he slipped into the elf tongue, which had better color words than the one the Lieutenant devised, and in the process accidentally named the child after a former king of the Noldor. “Or something like that.”

Gorfaunt apparently had a better memory for politics than he gave her credit for, or perhaps just a distaste for the elf cant, because she quickly translated it back into Angband’s crackly tongue . “Rotbint.”

“Yes.” A Balrog, even the chief of Balrogs, could not give much to something so soft and incarnadine. A name, incorporeal, existing in the plane the Captain knew best, was the only thing he could offer. “Now, to business?”

Gorfaunt wrapped the little creature away— it woke halfway through the rolling to stare at them once more— then tucked it against her chest.

The Captain was sad to see it go, though he couldn’t say why.

He remembered that he had come to this physical world for a reason once. He had wanted to see all there was to see, to feel and taste everything, chew chunks of Arda up and spit it out new. Disasters hungered as much as anyone. Yet all he’d had lately was war fare; blood-soaked mud and rage-tinged fear.

Deprived of fresh experiences, he clung to the potential, the novelty, of new life.

Perhaps Gondolin would see him out of his funk, he thought. It couldn’t hide forever.

“We’ll find it, Captain,” Gorfaunt assured him stubbornly. “And we’ll tear it down brick by brick, raze their gardens, fill their streets with blood.”

Even with a baby trying to gum her collarbone her firm tone allowed no questions.

Orcs were, as a rule, bothersome, unruly, walking corpses. Fractious, ugly, difficult, bothersome, recklessly stupid. The Maiar serving under the Captain were sometimes stereotyped as simpleminded brutes but at least they were able to perceive the world around them, even if few bothered to use that perception. In comparison orcs were stumbling around in the dark. They were inefficient as well, you needed three of them to take down any decent enemy. But when they were well made they were well made. Those were the ones that made it all worth it.

It had to be worth it. This was freedom, after all.

#the silmarillion #gothmog #orcs #silmarillion fanfiction #angband #fanfic #Sauron gets some mentions

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