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wingsofkpop · 3 years

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Hiraeth - I.IX: Bloodborne

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, explicit descriptions of fighting, blood and gore, some satanic themes, mentions of trauma, etc.

word count: 6,5k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

“—so once Youngjae channels enough power from the blood moon tonight, he’ll be able to lower the veil between the Other Side and the physical plane long enough to resurrect your spirit into a mortal body.” You explain, glancing over your notes at the unusually quiet figure sitting on your bed. Something about his expression seems distant—almost sorrowful.

After your return from the hospital, and after the long chat with your roommate convincing her that your absence all night was due to a last minute work emergency, a certain ghost phased into your bedroom. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be this concerned, but during his visits, Jackson usually never shuts up. If you were all alone with no one to talk to, you probably wouldn’t either.

You lower your notebook and shake your head, “You haven’t said one word since you showed up. What’s wrong?”

Jackson purses his lips, as if nervous to relay the thoughts swirling through his mind. Another brief moment of silence passes before he finally murmurs, “It’s the witches. They’re starting to get suspicious again… I don’t know how long I have before they figure out I’ve been crossing over to this plane.”

“Then we’ll just have to bring you back before they find out.” You grab your phone from your desk, checking through your notifications to see if a certain siphoner has yet responded to your dozens of texts and calls. No dice.

You haven’t been able to reach Youngjae since yesterday morning, which is odd considering the guy is the type to respond within three seconds of receiving a message. It would be one thing if he let you know that he’s busy, but it’s complete radio silence. It’s not like Youngjae at all.

“You’re worried about something.”

Your eyes dartup at Jackson’s observation, discovering his concerned gaze focused on you.

“It’s Youngjae.” You sigh, “I haven’t heard from him, but I’m sure he’s just busy brewing potions or something.” You expect to earn at least a chuckle from the ghost, but his silence remains along with the blank expression along his face. His same distant demeanor also lingers, and this time, your concern grows to panic. “What is it, Jackson? What’s going on?”

“I didn’t want to say anything cause I was sure it was all in my head, but I feel that something is… weird.”

“Weird?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He continues, “But as a ghost, I can feel things around me… like right now, the universe just seems off—” His voice cuts out as he frantically shakes his head, “Anyway, I just want you to be careful. Mark used to tell me that disrupting the balance of nature is like opening Pandora’s box.”

“Yeah. We will be doing none of that.” You set your phone down before crossing the room to kneel in front of Jackson. A grin lifts to your lips as you hum to the ghost, “So what do you feel when you’re around me?...”

Jackson raises an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you feel things around you… Do you feel anything special when you’re with me?”

You’re surprised at the eagerness that swells in your chest as he takes his time to think over your question. The inquiry was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood, but you’re actually curious about your companion’s ghastly perceptions. After maybe a minute or two, Jackson sends you a small smile:

“I feel… light.”

“Light? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You have this aura around you.” Jackson affirms, mindlessly reaching forward thumb at your cheek. You obviously can’t feel his touch, but something in your gut tells you that if you could, you would feel nothing but warmth. “I feel powerful when I’m with you…”

“Is that a good thing?”

He grins, “I think so.”

You continue to stare at one another for a moment, almost attempting to read the depths in each other’s eyes. It’s not until a harsh knock resonates from the front door do you finally break the gaze, offering Jackson a final hum, “I’ll bring you back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Jackson nods, “I know you will. But like I said, please be careful.”

“I will. See you soon.” You wait for Jackson to disappear completely before exiting your bedroom, cursing Sana for leaving you to deal with whoever is incessantly banging on your door. It’s probably the old lady from across the hall wanting to borrow another cup of sugar. You roll your eyes at the thought and open the door, ready to politely decline your neighbor’s request.

Your words die on your tongue—definitely not the old lady from across the hall.

“Mark? What are you—?”

“What? Not expecting to see me?” Mark’s hostile growl takes you by surprise, as does the furious expression etched along his features. “That’s not surprising since you’ve been ignoring me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Oh. I’m sure.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Mark takes a step closer to you before pointing a finger in your direction, “The fact that you not only lie to me, but you go behind my back and then deliberately avoid me for days on end.”

“What are you even talking about, Mark?”

“I’m talking about you and Youngjae playing God and resurrecting Jackson.”

Your muscles instantly freeze, as if Mark had taken a tub of ice water and thrown it over your head. The annoyance inside your chest shifts to guilt, and your once cold features cannot help but soften.

You shake your head, “Mark, I—”

“Do you know how dangerous it is to bring someone back from the dead, (Y/N)?” Mark lowers his voice, but his tone remains as frigid as his gaze. “Do you know the consequences that happen when you fuck with the balance of nature?”

“I get that, but—it’s complicated, Mark… There’s things you don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand!?” He scoffs, “Last I checked, I’m the goddamn witch here, (Y/N)! You know nothing about magic and its sacrifice!”

“Maybe not, but I do know that there is a chance I could bring Jackson back!” You shake your head again, “Please, just give me a chance to explain—”

“No. Because it’s not fucking happening.” Mark interrupts, furiously shaking his own head. “I forbid you to do this.”

It’s like a switch goes off in your mind. Your guilt immediately transforms, but this time, it configures into rage:

“You forbid me!? Who the flying fuck do you think you are!?”

“I won’t sit back and allow you to get yourself killed—!”

“And last I checked, you don’t have the right to control what I do and the decisions I make!” You seethe, stepping further back into your apartment. “This is my choice. I’m resurrecting Jackson whether you like it or not.”

“Fine! Get yourself fucking killed for all I care!” The witch raises his hands in mock surrender. “At least then I won’t have to deal with your reckless, moronic ass!”

“Fuck you, Mark.” You don’t allow the witch to say anything further and slam the door in his face. Your chest remains unbearably heavy, both physically and mentally, but you ignore the sweltering emotions and begin to traverse around the apartment, gathering your bag and other assorted belongings.

A confused and rather concerned Sana emerges from her bedroom a few seconds later. “Are you okay? What was with all that yelling?”

“Don’t worry about it,” You huff, shoving your arms through the sleeves of your jacket. “Just Mark being a douchebag, as per usual.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find Youngjae.”

“Isn’t it kind of late?”

“I’m an adult, Sana.” You snap before throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me.”

Similar to Mark, you don’t allow Sana the chance to question you further and sprint out the front door, praying that Youngjae will be up to bringing Jackson back in the next few hours.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Mark has never exercised the greatest control over his emotions. It first began when he was twelve, after his dad walked out on his mom. He found himself sobbing his eyes out some days, and beating the shit out of other kids on others. His mood ranged from intense rage to extreme depression. There was no in between.

In an effort to help, his mom enrolled him in a program designed to teach teens how to handle their emotions. But to no one’s surprise, the therapy didn’t do shit and Mark continued to initiate fights and cry himself to sleep most nights. He never understood why he felt this way—he still doesn’t, to be honest. His dad and him were never close, nor did he ever really care about his sudden departure. Maybe he was just an angry kid with depression. Maybe it was something else.

It wasn’t until his mom was killed did Mark begin to pull his life together, which also happened to be around the same time he met the too-friendly, homeschooled kid with an ego the size of Jupiter, Jackson Wang. Sure, the two of them butted heads every so often, but with Jackson being a werewolf, Mark learned the importance of managing the chaos within. ‘Emotion is like a loaded gun,’ he remembers Jackson once said, ‘If you let yourself pull the trigger without first aiming down sights, then you risk sinking a bullet into someone you love.’ Those words remain with him—remind him what means to stay in control.

But when it involves the people he loves, Mark can’t always regulate the ticking bomb counting down in his soul.

An ache settles in his chest as he recalls the passionate fire in your gaze. There’s always been some parts of you that reminds Mark of his past friend, specifically your stubbornness and inability to think before you act. He’s never found himself hating those parts of you until now—and he shouldn’t, Mark knows that, but he’s so fucking angry and so fucking scared of losing yet another one of the most important people in his life.

He’s experienced his fair share of loss, but losing you… It would break him. Completely.

Mark tries to push the intrusive thoughts from the forefront of his mind and focus on navigating his way through the dark maze of headstones and crumbling tombs. Right after you slammed your front door in his face, he received a text from Youngjae summoning him, Jisung and Lia to an emergency meeting at the edge of the cemetery. He’s still mad at the siphoner for assisting with your reckless scheme, but he won’t allow his pettiness to interfere with the safety of the coven.

A sigh falls from his lips—he does regret ever saying those ending words to you though… because what if they’re the last ones you hear from him.

‘I’m so sorry, Jackson…’

Mark’s misery is forgotten when he notices a group of people up ahead. He recognizes Lia, Jisung and Youngjae flocked together inside a chalk-white circle surrounded by lit torches. For a moment, Mark wonders if they’re in the middle of performing some type of seance, but his curiosity dwindles into confusion when he grows aware of the panic present in each set of their features.

He breaks into a sprint to cover more distance, approaching the strangely placed trio in no time. At the sight of him, Lia immediately bursts into tears, furthering the anxiety bubbling at the back of his throat.

“What the hell is going on!?”

“Hyung! You have to get out of here right now!” Mark notices the swollen, angry flesh of Youngjae’s bottom lip as he speaks, along with the ugly bruise underneath his left eye.

“What happened?” He ignores the siphoner’s warnings, attempting to reach inside the circle and grab Lia’s arm. However, his hand is met with resistance—a boundary spell. “Who did this to you?”

Lia sobs, “Just go, Mark! Before he hurts you!”

“Before who hurts me!? What are you—” His demands die in his throat as another figure appears from behind a large, marble gravestone. He immediately recognizes the newcomer, which sends even more confusion through his veins. “Seo Changbin? What the hell is this?”

“It’s an emergency meeting, hyung.” Mark feels his entire body freeze when the familiar, conniving voice enters his ears. “You had me a little worried… I almost thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Mark whirls around to face a smirking Minho cockily leaning against the wall of an empty tomb. “What kind of game do you think you’re playing, Minho?”

The younger witch shrugs before pushing off the wall to pace around the area. As he draws closer and closer, Mark can spy an ancient, navy blue ring sitting heavily on his forefinger. He’s never seen any piece of jewelry like it before, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t just a simple ring—and that he’s definitely in some kind of trouble.

“Mind explaining to me what we’re doing here? Or are you just going to continue pacing around the place like a cocky bastard?”

“Tonight is a special night, hyung… You wanna know why?” He watches Minho point to the night sky, “In just a few minutes, the moon will drift into the Earth’s shadow and the light of the sun will reflect across the moon’s surface, thus causing a blood moon… It’s actually pretty cool—”

“For Christsake, Minho—get to the goddamn point.”

“You know, for years I had to deal with all your bullshit excuses and justifications of putting our coven in danger—it was only a matter of time until one of us ended up dead, don’t you think?”

A bitter memory of Nayeon’s corpse resurfaces, but Mark remains silent.

“Everyone was too fucking blind, but I saw right through you.” Mark doesn’t move a muscle when Minho suddenly approaches, crowding his space until his nose is mere inches from brushing his own. The younger witch’s harsh glare bleeds into his soul as he continues, “You’re a poor fucking excuse for a leader, hyung—a leader who can’t even protect his own people.”

“And you think you can do better, huh?” Mark growls, glaring his own daggers into Minho’s gaze. “You have no fucking clue what it takes to run this coven… Admit it, you’re just pissed they chose me over you.”

“And look where that got them.”

“You need to cut out whatever petty bullshit this is and let Youngjae, Jisung and Lia go.” Mark murmurs, “Whatever problems you have are with me, so let’s just talk it out, okay?”

“Oh, Mark-hyung…” Minho’s gaze is unwavering from his own as he lifts a hand to rest on Mark’s shoulder. It’s a second too late that Mark realizes it is the same hand in which holds the mysterious ring:

“I’m over talking it out.”

Youngjae’s screams and Lia’s sobs echo in his ears along with the words that spill from Minho’s lips—they’re foreign, but Mark recognizes the spell right away. He tries to squirm and fight against the perpetrator’s grip, but another pair of hands keep his body in place—Changbin.

Bit by bit, Mark feels the buzz of his magic lift from his veins like a flock of doves. His limbs grow weak and his head fuzzy. Soon enough, his own knees no longer bear the strength to hold his weight. Once both Minho and Changbin release him, Mark collapses to the ground—empty and unable to rise.

“What did you do to him!?” Mark hears Jisung’s voice for the first time, although his brain is not fully able to comprehend the inquiry.

“I took his magic. He won’t be needing it anymore.”

Mark manages to find enough strength to reposition his body in a way that allows him to watch both Minho and Changbin approach a makeshift altar composed of an old, concrete coffin. Through the blur of his vision, he catches the witch stirring some kind of crimson mixture—likely blood. Minho looks to the moon, which is slowly brightening to a shade of maroon, before resting his gaze on his companion:

“It’s time.” He offers the mixture to Changbin, “Once you drink this, I can begin the transformation.”

“And you’re sure this spell will give me everything I need to take down the Primes?”

“One hundred percent.”

Take down the Primes?… Fucking hell.

“Minho! Don’t do this!” Mark can’t make out his own voice between the ringing of his ears and the beating of his heart, but he can only hope they’re audible enough for his audience. “The transformation—it won’t work!”

Youngjae shakes his head. “I don’t understand… What are you talking about, hyung?”

“He’s going to try to recreate the spell I used on Jackson on Changbin.” With a huff and a puff, Mark pushes himself to his hands and knees. He attempts to crawl forward, but the spinning of his head sends his body sprawling along the ground once again. He abandons any more thoughts of movement and speaks to Minho directly, “It will kill him—do you understand me!? You can’t—”

“You failed because you couldn’t draw enough power to complete the transformation.” Minho doesn’t even bother to look in his direction, “It will work—I know it will.”

Understanding there’s no possible way to convince the witch, Mark looks to the werewolf instead, “I’m warning you, Changbin! If you go through with this, you will die!”

“Don’t listen to him. Just drink the blood.”

“No! For fucksake, this is suicide!”

“Think of Jackson.” Minho murmurs to a torn Changbin, reaching across the altar to place a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Do it for him.”

“Changbin, don’t—!”

Mark watches in horror as Changbin throws back the mixture and downs its entirety in two gulps. His heart shatters like the glass vial the werewolf launches to the ground. He peers to his left, discovering the same shocked expressions across Youngjae, Jisung and Lia’s faces, and shakes his head in defeat as Lia begins to sob again.

“Filia maximo… Filia maximo… Morsus, morsus—” The wind begins to screech as Minho chants, tearing at Mark’s hair and nudging at his clothes, as if pleading for him to stop the spell. But there’s nothing he can do. For once, Mark is powerless. “—morsus… Advenio donec duo est revertus mors…” With a loud scream, Changbin collapses to the earth. He squirms and writhes in pain underneath the flaming light of the moon—and Mark can’t help but attempt to block out the snaps of his cracking bones.

The scene seems to last for hours until Changbin eventually grows silent. Mark takes the time to catch his breath, unable to control his lungs over the anxiety, fear and nausea lurking through his veins. He wants to look away from the still werewolf, but his gaze is as frozen as the rest of his body.

His eyes burn with tears of rage—Changbin is dead. Another person died because of his own fucking stupidity. Mark should have known this would happen again. He should have stopped it. He should have—

His thoughts disappear as Changbin suddenly gasps for air. For a moment, he claws at the earth as if attempting to ground himself, before he finally, albeit shakily, climbs to his feet. Minho cautiously approaches the wolf, peering down at the shorter male with a gaze full of concern.

“How do you feel?...”

“I feel…” Changbin flexes his fingers again, before closing them into tight fists. The moonlight illuminates the crimson glow of his irises and the sharpness of his long, black fangs as he faces the witch—a malicious smirk spreading along his lips as he chuckles, “I feel like kicking some ancient Prime ass.”

Mark can’t find the strength to watch anymore and allows his head to lower to the earth. Just before his eyes flutter shut, he swears he spots the movement of shadows from behind a nearby headstone. But before he can confirm his suspicions, his head takes one final spin and the world grows dark.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

June 13th, 1769 — As much as I enjoy the atmosphere of Paris, I believe it is time to progress onto another part of the world. Some of the townsfolk are beginning to grow suspicious, considering I appear twenty years younger than my supposed age. Nevertheless, I will not mind a new start elsewhere. Jaebeom, on the other hand, will be a terror to convince. As he claimed last time I brought the idea to light, ‘There will never be a place more beautiful than Paris.’

But I know he is not through playing with his newest toy—Tzuyu.

I set sail for the newlands tomorrow at sunrise. Whether my brother decides to accompany me or not is solely his preference. It would be pleasant to spend some time apart—to spend some time in peace—but I know, with many complaints and reluctance, Jaebeom will board the ship tomorrow. Wherever I traverse, he follows, and vice versa. We are family, after all.

I will miss Notre Dame the most. I have grown used to visiting the Cathedral and repenting my wrongdoings to the high priest. Of course, I am forced to erase his memory of our talks each time, but it is nice to confess. It lifts a weight off of the shoulders, takes away a small portion of the guilt. If there is a god, he would never allow a creature like me to walk amongst his heavens—but at least I can salvage the lingering hope left inside of my soul. Speaking of hope, I thought I saw a woman that resembled Irene during my daily visit to the church. I find it amusing that after all these years, my heart continues to yearn for her presence. She was truly special—I wonder if she ever thought the same of me.

I’ve heard some of the sailors refer to a shore in the newland that has yet to be claimed. It may be the perfect location for Jaebeom and I to start anew. I can only hope it is as beautiful as people say. Maybe I will construct a place of worship as stunning as the Cathedral.

Isn’t that ironic?... A vampire who believes in faith.

Jinyoung finishes the entry with a sigh, welcoming the nostalgia that spreads through his thoughts like an old friend. It seems just yesterday that he recorded his first thoughts about the land that would become Moon Dye Bay. He shakes his head, carefully setting the old journal back on the bookshelf.

He never did build that church.

“Reminiscing again, brother?” The moment is ruined when a certain hybrid’s snicker reaches his ears. Jinyoung rolls his eyes as Jaebeom takes residence beside him, dragging his fingers along the spines of Jinyoung’s other diaries. “We did have some great times back in the 18th century… Remember our battles during the French Revolution? I rather enjoyed King Louis and Marie Antoinette’s executions.”

“You enjoy anything that involves bloodshed.”

“Don’t be so resentful, Jinyoungie. It’s not my fault that the queen had you in her interests.”

Jinyoung shakes his head before retreating to his desk to fix himself a drink. “The woman was as shallow as a poor soul’s ego. She was taken with any man who’d pay her the time of day. It was a miracle her death came as quickly as it did.”

“Careful there. You sound like me.”

Jinyoung deliberately chooses not to respond to Jaebeom’s comment and proceeds to pour two glasses of bourbon. He ignores his companion’s wide smirk as he hands him one of the drinks. Both the vampire and the hybrid simultaneously take a sip, peering at one another over the rims of their cups. Jaebeom is the first to break the silence with a pleased inhale and a hum:

“You returned pretty late last night. I hope you used protection during your time with (Y/N).”

“Mind your tongue, hyung.” Jinyoung warns, “I brought (Y/N) to the hospital after the attack—I trust you took care of Tzuyu?”

Jaebeom smirks. “Of course. She won’t be alive long enough to target your newest Maria Antonia again.”

About to inhale another sip of his bourbon, Jinyoung pauses to mull over the answer. He lowers his glass to his side before delivering Jaebeom a confused expression and a murmured inquiry, “What do you mean she won’t be alive?”

“Tzuyu and I got into an argument and, well, she pissed me off.” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom down the rest of his drink.

“Please tell me you didn’t bite her, Jaebeom-hyung.” He curses at the widening of Jaebeom’s smirk, slamming his glass back down on his desk with enough force to crack its exterior. “When I told you to deal with her, I didn’t mean condemn her to a fate of pain. If you wished to kill her, you could have at least been merciful and done it quick.”

“Last I checked, you said it yourself not to be kind.” Jinyoung follows Jaebeom as he pours himself another drink and collapses onto a brown, leather sofa. He tips his glass toward him with a smile before continuing, “I thought the punishment fit the crime, and we wouldn’t want to put helpless, human (Y/N) in danger again, would we?”

“You turned it off, didn’t you?” Jinyoung realizes, “Does holding onto your humanity wound you that badly, hyung? That you have no choice but to wish it away?”

“If I remember correctly, I’m not the only one that can’t hold onto their humanity… How many people did you kill in the ‘20s alone? One thousand? Maybe two?”

Jinyoung shakes his head, “I’m not that person anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” In the blink of an eye, Jaebeom is in front of Jinyoung—his glass in pieces on the floor beside him. He leans in until Jinyoung can taste the alcohol of his breath on his tongue, then whispers darkly, “You can lie to yourself all you fucking want, Jinyoung. But deep down, you’ll always know what you are… let’s just hope (Y/N) never finds out, hm?”

At the mention of your name, Jinyoung’s anger expands. He suppresses the urge to take the table beside him and smash it over the hybrid’s head, and instead inhales a deep breath. Jaebeom is only trying to provoke him—and he refuses to be a pawn in his foolish games.

“You will remember what it was like to feel human again.” Jinyoung sighs, “For your sake, I hope your remembrance comes sooner rather than later.”

Jaebeom tsks, “Being human is overrated.”

“He said the same thing about fate.” Both Jinyoung and Jaebeom whirl around at the appearance of a third voice. Jinyoung feels his blood begin to boil at the sight of the familiar vampire in the doorway, once again, suppressing his desire to launch a piece of furniture in her direction. “Ironically, fate and humanity are a package deal.”

Jaebeom growls, “What the fuck are you doing here, Tzuyu?”

“I came to try and convince you to give me your blood.” Tzuyu coughs, and Jinyoung swears he can hear the rattle of her bones. “But judging by your attitude, that’s obviously going to be harder than I thought.”

“You have courage for showing your face again.” Jinyoung crosses his arms with a dark hum, “Especially so soon after you nearly killed (Y/N).”

“It wasn’t my intention to kill her. I just wanted to send a message.”

“Is that so?” With a malicious glare, Jinyoung steps forward and tilts his head toward the vampire, “And what kind of message was that?”

“For (Y/N) to stay away from Jaebeom.” Another violent cough wracks through Tzuyu’s thin form, causing a light stream of blood to splatter from her lips. She wipes her mouth with a ragged breath before continuing, “Look, I did it for her own good. We all know his track record at keeping humans alive.”

“You did it to protect her!?” Jaebeom cackles, “Wow! That’s fucking priceless!”

“Say what you will, you both know I’m right.” Tzuyu says, propping herself up against a nearby bookshelf. “It’s either she ends up dead or is turned into a vampire—then again, there’s not much of a difference between the two, is there?”

“I would die before I allow (Y/N) to come to any harm.”

“The only issue with that is you can’t die, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung doesn’t take his eyes off Tzuyu as she grabs a bottle of brandy from the top shelf. It takes her literal seconds to unscrew the cap and down a good portion of the container. She licks her lips and says, “I’m sorry I attacked (Y/N), okay? I went too far. I won’t do it again.”

“You think an apology is enough to save your life?” Jaebeom snickers before snatching the alcohol from the vampire, “Think again, sweetheart.”

“What do you want from me, Jaebeom? Does seeing me die a slow, painful death bring you joy?”

He shrugs, “No one mourns for the wicked.”

“Is he always this much of an asshole?”

Jinyoung chuckles, “Pretty much.”

“Great.” The vampire breathes out a sigh and cards her fingers through her hair. After a brief moment of silence, she directs her attention back to Jaebeom and pleads—her voice packed with desperation and fear, “What can I do to convince you to let me live? Please, Jaebeom… I don’t want to die.”

“You should have thought about that before you touched what I told you not to.” Jinyoung remains quiet as Jaebeom lifts a hand to grasp Tzuyu’s jaw. The dying visitor remains unphased, proceeding to glare at the hybrid with hateful, yet oddly sorrowful eyes. “I suggest you show yourself out before I end your life sooner.”

“You’re going to lose everything one of these days, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu shakes her head sadly, wiping away a layer of cold sweat from her forehead. “You’re going to lose everyone, even your brother, and you’re going to be alone. For an eternity.”

“Save the monologue.” Jaebeom waves dismissively, taking a sip of the brandy before returning it back to its shelf. “Petty isn’t a good look for you, baby.”

“Fuck you, Jaebeom.” Tzuyu goes to stomp out the door, but something—someone blocks her path. The atmosphere changes when Jinyoung notices your panicked form, practically gasping for air and cross-eyed, standing in the doorway. He immediately speeds to your side without hesitation, grasping your hands in hopes to ground you.

He stares into your eyes, “What is it, (Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

“You and Jaebeom have to get the hell out of here! Right now!”

Jaebeom shakes his head in confusion, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what exactly happened but Minho turned Changbin into this dark werewolf creature or-or something… I do know, however, that Changbin is on his way right now to kill you both.” Jinyoung steps back at the intensity of your explanation, unable to think of a response over the roar of his thoughts. Through his peripheral vision, he can spot the same type of speechlessness across Jaebeom’s face.

Not again…

“That’s stupid… You realize nothing can kill them, right?” Tzuyu scoffs.

“This is different.” You urge, “I saw Changbin—he wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before… The spell that Minho used, it was-was—”

“Dark magic.” Jinyoung finishes blankly, “The spell was dark magic.”

“Yes… which means you and Jaebeom need to leave town as fast as you possibly can before—”

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere, (Y/N).” Jinyoung’s entire body grows stiff as a new voice echoes throughout the study. He cautiously turns his head, discovering none other than the young werewolf in question resting among the shadows. His eye also catches the open window a few inches away, and he curses himself for ever wanting to feel the nightly draft.

Changbin’s smirk is as dark as his eyes.

“What?... Not going to offer me a drink?”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“(Y/N)! Get out of here! Now!” Jaebeom hears Jinyoung scream as the werewolf suddenly launches forward, knocking his brother into the bookshelf behind him. The wood completely splinters beneath the impact, raining down an array of books and planks on Jinyoung’s body. Changbin turns to Jaebeom next, but the hybrid is ready—and pissed off.

Jaebeom speeds toward the intruder and delivers a swift kick to the gut. Changbin flies back at the force, crashing back through the window with a loud growl. Sensing the urgency in time, Jaebeom quickly throws Jinyoung’s immobile body over his shoulder and urges both you and Tzuyu out the study door.

“Come on! We gotta go!”

“Jaebeom! What the hell is happening!?” He ignores Tzuyu’s fearful ask and proceeds to lug Jinyoung through the maze of hallways and down the staircase, you and the female vampire hot on his heels. He doesn’t know exactly where he’s going, but he makes his way to the parlor where he props Jinyoung up against a nearby chair before turning to you:

“You need to leave. I will deal with this.”

“No way. I’m not going anywhere.” Jaebeom curses your stubbornness inside his head, sending a stern glare in your direction. Your expression remains fixated, and he can’t help but wish your presence in any other situation but now.

“I can’t protect you right now—”

“And I can’t sit back and watch you get yourselves killed!” You shake your head indignantly, “I’m staying!”

“Fucking hell, (Y/N)! Get your ass out that door before I throw you out myself!”

“Jaebeom, watch out!” At Tzuyu’s cue, a wooden branch comes soaring in through the window. Jaebeom immediately throws himself against you, effectively forcing your body to the ground to dodge the projectile. He can feel your fear through the trembling of your limbs and hurried breaths, but it only brings him more determination to tear apart his attacker.

He shakes his head in surrender, “You stay on the fucking ground, understand? Don’t you fucking dare move a muscle.” He doesn’t bother to wait for a response and pushes himself back to his feet.

Tzuyu is huddled in a corner, and Jinyoung has yet to awaken from his crash landing back in the study. Jaebeom tries to focus his senses on detecting the werewolf, but he can’t seem to hear anything past the beating of his own heart. He carefully makes his way over to the incapacitated vampire, attempting to force him back to consciousness.

“Now is really not the time for a fucking nap, Jinyoung.” He hisses, “I swear to god, if I have to save your ass one more time—” Another wave of tree branches come crashing through the windows. Unfortunately, Jaebeom is not as quick and one catches his shoulder at just the right angle. He feels the wood sink into his flesh, painfully carving into his bones. With a low groan, Jaebeom manages to grab the makeshift stake and remove it in one hefty pull.

He tosses it away with a yell, “You gonna hide like a little bitch!? Or are you gonna come out and fight like a man!?”

“Be careful what you wish for, asshole!” Jaebeom turns just in time to discover the werewolf emerging from a shattered window. His blood boils when he notices the sadistic grin along the young kid’s face—he wonders how those teeth will look strewn across the parlor floor.

Changbin comes at him fast, much faster than Jaebeom could have predicted. He manages to dodge a set of jabs, but he’s not so lucky when Changbin lands a heavy hit against the side of his face. Pain erupts through his jaw as he collapses to the floor, but Jaebeom doesn’t have the chance to dwell over it and rolls out of the way just as the werewolf attempts to stomp his nose.

Jaebeom tries to speed away again, but like before, his counterpart is faster. Changbin manages to force him to the floor for a second time, pinning his body down with his own. Horrified, the hybrid watches as the werewolf’s eyes glow blood red and large, pitch black fangs emerge past his parted lips. Once again, he attempts to break free, but it’s no use—Changbin is too strong.

Just when he believes the wolf’s fangs are going to sink into his neck, another form knocks Changbin away. Jaebeom hurriedly props himself on his arms in time to watch Tzuyu deliver a series of hits and kicks to the perpetrator, eventually slamming his head into a nearby armoire. Taking advantage of the moment, she turns from Changbin to Jaebeom instead:

“Grab Jinyoung and (Y/N) and run!” She screams, “Get the hell of here!”

Unable to move, Jaebeom remains as Tzuyu attempts to fight off the wolf. But with the combination of his ultimate strength and her weakness from Jaebeom’s venom, her defeat is inevitable. He watches in terror as Changbin sinks his teeth into the vampire’s arm before yanking her head forward and effectively snapping her neck. Jaebeom feels his insides practically soar with rage when the attacker tosses a comatose Tzuyu across the room like a useless toy.

“I’ll kill you…” He sneers, allowing his own supernatural features to overtake his face. “I’ll fucking kill you…”

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

Using the little agility he has left, Jaebeom grabs one of the branches and speeds toward the wolf. Due to Changbin’s movements, he misses his chest, but manages to stab the weapon in his stomach. Changbin releases a pained groan, allowing Jaebeom to take advantage of his surprise and land another array of uppercuts to his face. Just when he finally thinks he has the upper hand, his opponent blocks one of his hits and pins him against a wall with a hand around his throat.

“Any last words, Prime?”

“You really think you can kill me?” Jaebeom growls, squirming against Changbin’s hold.

“I know I can… Have fun rotting in Hell—fuck!”

Shock spills through Jaebeom’s veins as the point of branch suddenly appears through the center of the wolf’s chest, splattering red across both of their bodies. Changbin’s grip releases, allowing the hybrid to quickly speed out of his reach. Once he’s a safe distances away, Jaebeom looks to his savior, discovering the one person he never expected to see—

You stand over Changbin’s body—chest heaving and bloodied hands trembling. Your eyes are glassy when Jaebeom meets your gaze, and for some reason, he feels the urge to go and pull your form into a tight embrace. Your voice, however, returns his mind to reality:

“Did I… Did I kill him?”

“I don’t think so.” Jaebeom answers, nursing his wound with his own shaky fingers. “We need to get out of here—get somewhere safe.”

“Good idea.” You trudge over to where Jinyoung is still unconsciously laid across the chair. Jaebeom follows your lead and hurries over to a lifeless Tzuyu. “I know somewhere we can go… but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

“(Y/N)... There is an immortal, unkillable super wolf out to kill me and my brother currently in my living room…” He snorts, maneuvering Tzuyu’s body into one arm and assisting you and Jinyoung with the other.

“Trust me, anywhere is a hell of a lot better than here…”

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orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Sweet Disaster// Tommy Shelby

(A/N - hello. so basically, i had a dream about chris evans, and then i modified it into this tommy imagine. it was supposed to be a drabble but i physically cannot write anything less than 12k words so thats great. honestly this is very similar to ‘fools gold’ but hey, im in the mood for some angsty fluff and fighting with our main guy tom. next tommy imagine will be the lolita wedding and that will be the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. thanks for everything, PLS let me know what u think. see you soon! stay safe!)

trigger warnings: fighting, tommy being a douche, everyone being a dumbass, tommy getting jealous and implied sex.

You saw him on a Saturday night, at a bar on the outskirts of the city.

It had been three months, and you had hoped you would have managed to slip through the cracks; pass through the night like the foxes that roamed in the back alleys - but you had never been that lucky, especially not when he was involved.

It was your friend’s birthday, and you tipped back glass after glass of expensive champagne that bubbled and burned at the back of your throat. The lights were blinding, twinkling chandeliers and the smell of cigarettes and french perfume, something like bergamot and vanilla, lingering in the air.

Your dress was cherry red, your hair tied back with a sequinned headband and your lips and cheeks painted in rouge, but you had never felt so awful. It had been bad enough trying to find something to wear, the contents of your wardrobe tipped all over your floor, a mess of mesh and feather and lace, almost everything reminding you of him, as if he had been stitched right into the fabric. You had ended up curled in a ball on the floor, wiping your tears with the Chanel blouse he had bought back from a business trip in Paris.

Stupid fucking boys.

You could hear the girls talking around you, high pitched giggles and exaggerated voices as they gossiped about something or other that faded into static around you. You had spent the past three months holed up in your flat, only leaving for work or the street market on Sunday, stocking up with bread and wine and cheese, everything carb filled and rich to fill the hole in your heart.

You weren’t used to the company of others or the hustle and bustle of a crowded room, and you sat back against the plush cherry velvet seats, dreaming of climbing into bed and devouring the slab of dark chocolate you had been saving.

Your close friend Emma, the one who knew the reason you were staring into space and not laughing and drinking with the rest of the girls, placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, and tilted her head slightly.

“How are you holding up?”

You snapped out of your trance.“I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m not much fun right now.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed you lightly, her voice as soft and playful as ever. “At least you came out! It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“Yeah - I’m sure everyone missed having me bawl like a baby and mope around.”

She elbowed you, “Stop bloody feeling sorry for yourself and have a shot! Christ! You can spend the rest of the week wrapped up in your duvet, but tonight - suck it up, and have a drink!”

She handed you a glass of something dark, and you brought it to your lips, tipping it into your throat with a wince. It felt as though you were drinking petrol.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. All that matters is that it’s top shelf and it came from those fellas over there.” She pointed towards a group of men huddled around the bar. They were shooting quick glances and sly winks towards you and your friends. Sure they were relatively attractive, most likely handsomely rich and dressed in suits that looked finely tailored - but they made your skin crawl.

You hated the way that you would always be comparing other men to him, and you especially hated how they would always come up short.

An hour later and whatever liquor was coursing through your bloodstream had done its job, and everything seemed infinitely brighter. You even found yourself laughing at jokes and stories that you only caught halfway through, the alcohol wonderfully dizzying your brain.

You were so caught up in the rush of being drunk and finally feeling somewhat happy for the first time in forever; that you didn’t realise you had caught the attention of one of the men across the bar. You felt him sidle in next to you, following his friends who had snaked their way into your booth, their arms slung around the girls shoulders, whispering sweet little sentiments into their ears.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, so close to you that you could smell the sour whiskey on his tongue, your nose wrinkling.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Perhaps you had spent so long being ‘Tommy Shelby's girl’ that you had forgotten what it was like when you were being hit on. You had spent so many nights safely tucked under his arm, his hands possessively wrapped around your body, an unspoken threat sent out to everyone and anyone around you - it had been a long time since a man had tried his luck with you.

Perhaps you were so infatuated with him that you never noticed anybody else. Your mind forever filled with visions of oceanic eyes and three piece suits, his Birmingham accent ringing through your ears like a gospel. He invaded all of your thoughts and infiltrated your dreams, and you loathed and loved him for it. The way that he filled your brain and heart like smoke, clouding your decisions and judgments, like some kind of magical elixir, blurring everything but the shape of him.

The man beside you didn’t concede. He cleared his throat, running a finger over the rim of your glass, ignoring the way your eyebrows furrowed and lip curled.

“Let me get you a drink, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl.

It sounded so wrong. It was never pretty girl. It was - darling, sweetheart, princess. It was - my love, honey, kitten. It was said teasingly and exasperatedly, it was whispered in your ear and buried into the space between your thighs. It was never said in the sticky corner of a club, from the greedy mouth of a stranger undressing you with his eyes.

“I’m - ” Taken. But you weren’t, not anymore, and you hated the way the thought of him made your lip wobble. It’s had been three goddamn months, why did the memory of him still make your body go up in flames?

Emma stiffened beside you, waving a dismissive hand at the gentleman speaking to her, and turned to face you and your unmoving suitor.

“We’re alright here, love. Thanks.”

A flicker of annoyance. His fingers tightening until his knuckles turned white, his tongue running across the ridge of his front teeth. He obviously didn’t take rejection well, and he was doing a shitty job at hiding it.

“Are you sure? It looks like she could do with another drink.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes rolling back at the way he dismissed you and spoke as though you were incapable of thinking for yourself.

“I’m fine.” Your words were curt and clipped, a clear indication of your disinterest, but he refused to back down.

“You shouldn’t be here all alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Really? What kind of man would leave a pretty little thing like you all by herself?”

“The kind of man that would punch you in the fucking teeth for speaking to her like that.”

You froze.

Oh Christ.

A million irreverent, evil, blasphemous phrases hurtled inside of your mind, and you knew that if Polly somehow ever caught wind of what you were thinking, you would be on the receiving end of a sharp slap around the head.

He was here. Of bloody course he was. He had a knack for showing up out of the blue and knocking all of the wind from your lungs.

It hurt like an open wound, feeling his eyes on you, the same ones that had looked at you with love and humour and gentleness, and not being able to fully meet his gaze - knowing just how much it would hurt if you did.

“She’s with me.”

His voice was firm, laced with the same sort of dismissive irritability he used to use whenever somebody tried their luck with you. This time was different however, you couldn’t roll your eyes and kiss him, you couldn’t put your head in the crook of his neck or mutter that you were his under the golden chandeliers, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

You couldn’t do any of that anymore, because you weren’t.

The man seemed pick up on the tension, clicking his tongue slyly, unaware of the consequences his words would have. “Doesn’t seem like she is.”

“Get the fuck out.”

The penny must have dropped for the rest of the boys. The booth going silent as they realised just who the handsome shadowy figure towering over them was. You felt them slowly inch away, head down and gazes low, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. A few hushed mumbles of “holy shit! That’s Tommy Shelby! One of those blinders!” hurtling around the tables beside you, not completely drowned out by clatter of the jazz band.

“I have every right to be here.” The ballsy stranger said, stiffening up beside you. His spine curled as he tried to make himself bigger. “Who says I have to leave?”

You huffed at his words, exhaling like a balloon. “That’s enough.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. You were exhausted, the night taking such a sudden turn you felt like you had whiplash, and the alcohol sat deep in your gut like a rock. You just wanted to get home, away from the man you wanted so badly your fingers ached to hold him, and crawl into your bed with your cat and a mountain of chocolate.

“Well, considering I own the fucking place, I think that I do - and if you don’t, I’ll shoot you.”

That seemed to do it.

You kept your eyes focused on the mans paling face, the grim look washing over him like salty sea air, you didn't dare turn and face the man you could feel burning holes in your neck.

“I.. I...” The man spluttered almost incoherently, rising to his feet and stumbling out from beside you. From behind you you heard Emma giggling coyly into her glass. “Sorry.” He mumbled quickly, his knees buckling when Tommy clapped a hand around his shoulder, holding him in place like a dog.

Tommy’s voice was still, almost too controlled, and you knew that his words were deadly. “If I see you around these parts again, I’ll put a fucking bullet in your skull.”

He gulped and nodded, darting into the sea of bodies in the crowd.

You kept your eyes low. Fumbling with the pearl clasps of your purse you squeezed Emma’s hand in parting and rose to your feet, wanting to leave as painlessly as possible, not even daring to look up at the face staring you down.

“I should go.” Was all you said, sliding out of the booth and onto the marbled floor. You saw the way the rest of the girls were watching the scene unfold before them, and you knew that by Monday you would have a lot of questions to answer, but right now you needed nothing but the safety of your flat.

You didn’t even let your shoulders brush against him. You coiled around him like a snake, your feet moving so fast your embroidered shoes were nothing but a blur of scarlet. You only made it to the hallway, he let you go far enough that you were in private before he reached for you, a familiar, large hand curving around the dip in your shoulder. You hated the way your body reacted, goosebumps rising to his touch unconsciously.

“(Y/N), wait.”

Your name on his tongue was sweeter than honey and richer than wine, it sounded so right that it hurt. It had been so long since you had heard him call you by your name, so long since he had spoken to you that your gut was twisting inside of you, your whole body aching for him to do nothing but repeat that word like a mantra.

You inhaled, thinking of a way out. It was too dangerous, you were playing with fire and you couldn’t get burnt, not again.

“I’m sorry — I didn’t know, it’s Jessica’s birthday and we - ” You hated how you stumbled over your words. You had never felt so uncomfortable around him and it made your skin crawl. You had kissed him under the stars, laughed with him in the corner of a private party, made love to him in every room of his fucking mansion, and now he felt like a stranger.

You knew what he looked like when he woke up, with his sleepy eyes and tousled hair. You knew what he looked like when had spent the night doing something unholy, you had cleaned his knuckles and kissed his wounds as you sat pressed up against him in the tub, his hands wrapped around your waist. You’d stood by his side, your hands intertwined in the middle of some expansive ballroom, and listened to him sweet-talk his way into a new business deal, all the while stroking his thumb over yours. You had seen him vulnerable, pulling you so close to his chest that it was like you were bound together, whispering to you how he loved you, how he couldn’t live without you.

But he still let you go.

He moved in front of you, leaving you with no choice but to meet his eyes. He looked good, but that was a given, he always did, no matter the circumstances. He looked so... soft. He always seemed that way around you, his eyes getting a little bit kinder, the harshness of his words dipped in sugar, even the sharpness of his jaw looked inviting and gentle, practically begging you to wrap your palm around it.

You bit your tongue. You were being ridiculous. You were seeing things that weren’t there. It was over between the two of you, he had made that very clear. You were grasping at straws and all it was going to do was hurt you.

He spoke suddenly, his thick accent cutting through the silence that felt so loud. “It’s alright. Only really been ours since last night, there were... problems with the last owners.”

Despite everything you felt the ghost of a smile tugging on the edge of your lips, immediately knowing what ‘problems’ he was referring to.

“Arthur?” You asked.

“Yes.” He said with a small grin. “Arthur.”

A moment passed. The air around you feeling all too hot and all to cold at once. It had been a long time since you had seen one another, and both of you were caught up in appreciating such familiar beauty up close. You had missed the small things about him, like the slight curl of his hair and the veins in his neck, you could remember running your lips across the curve and dip of his throat.

You were treading in dangerous waters. It wouldn’t be long until the current pulled you under, and you weren’t quite sure how much longer you could keep a rational mind. You inhaled, flittering your eyes to meet his in some kind of signal of parting, pulling your clutch tighter to your body as an attempt to keep yourself grounded. “I should go. It was good to see you, Tommy.”

You spun on your heel, heading for the large golden doors that led outside. Fresh air would clear your mind, the stars and the velvet night would be good for clearing out all of the junk rattling around in your skull, but you barely got two steps forward before he spoke, already knowing his next words before he even opened his mouth.

“Let me drive you home.”

He spoke so surely, addressing you the way he would one of his brothers or Johnny, as if he knew what was best for you. Once upon a time you would have believed that he did, let him grasp you by the wrists and drag you to the end of the world if he asked nicely, those fucking baby blues and pink lips dulling any warning sirens in your head.

Even now, after everything, you knew that he would never put you in danger, that he would always protect you. And it was with the knowledge of that striking your heart like lightning, you knew that you were still hopelessly, undoubtedly in love with him - not that you ever thought differently, but you had done a damned good job of pushing your feelings away.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” He said, “and I wouldn’t even let you out on those fucking streets by yourself stone cold sober.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m not drunk, and you don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m driving you home.”

You looked up at him through your painted lashes, disarming him in a million different ways you didn’t even realise. You were oblivious to the fact that his breath felt trapped in his lungs.“You and I both know that’s not a good idea, Tommy.”

“Cmon. Get your things.”

You sidestepped away, pushing the bottom of your heel deeper into the champagne coloured carpet. “No Tommy, I’m not a child! I don’t need your help.”

He rolled his eyes, something akin to fond exasperation rising to his cheeks. You felt your heart drop and flutter like it was a sparrow inside of you, you had never thought you would see that face again, and it hurt how something so simple could twist and mould you in his hands like clay.

He pressed his hands to the small of your back, pushing you forward.

“I don’t care if you don’t want my help. I’m doing it anyway.”

You huffed. Too tired and drunk and confused to put up a real fight.“Fine.” He smiled coyly and his smug attitude made you click your teeth, running a hand through the curls in your hair, not stopping the childish retort on the edge of your tongue. “Prick.”

You felt his hand swat at you, dangerously close to the hem of your dress and you were certain that your cheeks were the same colour as the candles flickering on the tables below. It was such a playful, tender thing to do, and so horribly familiar - memories of his hands on you, pinching and teasing and digging in, a way of communicating without words, something so intimate and personal, something that only the two of you knew.

You wondered if he felt the same way. You wondered if he was reminded of the past, of peach moons and starlight kisses and strawberry lipstick, but as always he remained impassive, as poker faced as always as he strolled down the hall, pushing open the wide brass doors and waiting for you to pass through, him trailing behind you, like always.

———————————————————————

Through your hazy eyes the moon almost looked pink, like a spotlight shining down on you, illuminating the both of you as Tommy’s car purred down the streets, like a black cat stalking under the cover of darkness.

It smelt like him.

Like cigarettes and sin and mint and woodsmoke. You were reminded of driving at midnight with the windows down, his hand wrapped around your thigh, his eyes anywhere but the road. You thought of sticky skin and leather seats and the smell of sex, breathless little laughs and the feel of his teeth biting down on your top lip.

You stared at the polish on your fingernails, hoping for some kind of distraction from the man beside you. It wasn’t far to your flat, and you prayed that the drive home would be as hitch free as possible.

“Had a good night?” Tommy asked, looking over at you from behind the wheel. He’s not even sure what he’s saying, his usually mechanical brain almost short circuiting because you’re finally next to him again. Words and phrases seem tasteless and meaningless, but he wants to savour as much of you as he can. He knows it makes him hypocritical, especially given everything he’s put you through, but he’s never really been very conventional with his love.

“It was alright.”

“Friends from work?”

“Yeah. It was Jessica’s birthday, she wanted to get drunk, you know how it can be.”

“And that...that man - ?” He cleared his throat, hoping that his words came off breezier than they sounded in his head, pretending as if the thought of you with somebody else didn’t feel like a noose around his neck. “Who was he?”

“Just some stupid twat.”

Your words weren’t doing much to quell the fiery flicker of anger inside of him, half of his brain telling him to turn the car around and put a razor blade through the fuckers eye - but one glance over at your sleepy, beautiful face and all of his jealousy fades into mere smoke.

None of it matters.

Nothing will ever matter more than you.

“I shouldn’t have even been out tonight, but Emma practically dragged me.”

Emma. The name rings a bell. He flips through a mental picture book of everyone you’ve spoken about, and finally lands on the glamorous, dark skinned, velvet haired vixen that you called your best friend.

Memories come flooding back.

The nights you would spend with her when he was too busy with work. How in the darkness of his office with nothing but an empty feeling in his chest and glass of bourbon beside him, the phone would ring and cut through the silence.

He’d roll his eyes when Emma spoke quickly down the line, words slurred and filled with giggles as she would explain the drunken shenanigans you had both fallen into. He’d drive through the night and the dim city streets, his mind for once not filled with business deals or money, instead his heart tugging at the thought of his doe eyed, honey lipped girl waiting for him in the city.

“I think she had too much to drink.” Emma would say, clambering into a taxi cab she had managed to hail, teetering in her tall satin shoes. “I wanted to take her home with me, but she was causing such a big fuss and asking for you - couldn’t bloody say no.”

Outside the club his voice would be stern and his stare would be solid. Clipped, quick words to the doormen, feeling you press your cold nose into the base of his throat, mumbling something incoherent about how pretty he was. He’d scold you fondly. Settle you down in the back seats of his car and cover you up with his jacket, smiling ever so softly at the way you cuddled into the warmth and the familiar smell.

He thought of how lonely his nights had been without you.

“How is she?”

“Fine. Everyone is just fine.”

But how are you? He wants to ask, but he has a feeling that no matter the answer he’ll still end with a bullet in his gut, so he lets the silence engulf the both of you, nothing in the air but unspoken tension and the soft purr of the engine.

He had an idea. Something conniving and crafty, something that he’s been wanting to do since the night he told you that it wasn’t safe to be with him, the night he told you to leave. Thomas Shelby has always been a strong, level headed man, but something about you just makes him crumble. You have a way of twisting around him, snaking around his thoughts and feelings like a vine, and he gives himself up wholly.

He would never put you in a position you were uncomfortable with, but he can’t help the claw in his gut when he thinks of how long it’s been since you’ve been apart. He can smell the sweet liquor and perfume on you, can see the way your eyes are glossed ever and your hair is mussed. You’re tired, and after the way that goddamn leech of a man had been fawning over you Tommy is in no mood to leave you alone, he likes knowing that you’re safe, it’s the only thing that makes him able to sleep at night.

He glanced over to you, watching as you yawned into your palm, your soft, pretty eyes looking at the stars and the moon and his decision was made for him.

“You missed the turn.” You said a few moments later, perking up a little in your seat.

“Hmm?”

“You missed it. You should have turned left back there.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you’re pretty sure you know the reason why. Despite the part of your body that is sparked like a match at the thought of spending the night with him, you also know that it is too dangerous, that the two of you together are fire and gasoline.

“No. No, Tommy. I’m not staying over with you.”

“Yes you are. You can stay in a guest room - it’ll give you time to sleep off that hangover.”

“I’m hardly drunk.”

“Well, when we get home you can walk in a straight line for me, eh?”

“It’s not my home.”

That hurt.

He ignored you, feeling the familiar bite of irritation, hating that he wasn’t the same man to you that he once was. He could feel his tone getting desperate, and under any other circumstance he would be furious at being so weak, but never around you. “Just stay. Tonight? For me. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re not getting into any trouble.”

“Tommy Shelby never sleeps.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, sighing in defeat. Tommy smiled, and realised as the car lurched over the bridge that’ll take you back where you both belong that he’s the happiest he has been in a long time.

—————————————————————

His house was as intimidating as ever, even more so under the thick blanket of the night. The architecture looked gothic, the sprawling roof and high chimneys almost seeming menacing as the car pulled up along the gravel, the low sound of the rocks crackling like a fire.

It almost felt strange. A house you had stepped foot in hundreds of times, suddenly feeling unfamiliar and mystifying. It was like the very first time you had seen the house a few years ago, how the large rooms and the tall ceilings seemed empty and dangerous, as though they housed a million secrets.

But since then it had been full of so much light. You had danced with him playfully, barefoot on the kitchen floor, with the windows open and soft jazz flittering in the air like sunlight. You had slept on the sofa in the drawing room, tangled up against his bare chest, the room littered with wine stained glasses and cigarette burns. You had laughed until you had cried, kissed him on the vivaciously on the mouth, sat through dozens of rowdy family dinners, shared coffee and pastry under the sleepy morning light - and now it felt as though a million years had passed.

You let him lead you inside. Keeping a safe distance and a wary eye as though he was an unpredictable stray dog that needed to be kept at arms length. He sensed your suspicion and ignored it, marching forward like a solider, pretending that your distrust didn’t make him feel awful. He hated to think of you on edge because of him, he hated how small it made him feel. He never wanted to be insignificant to you.

You noticed how bare it was in the hallway. Once upon a time the coat rack would have been filled with your furs and shawls, your pastel pink boots and his forever charcoal posh oxfords lined next to one another, a poignant reminder of their owners and the differences that you both shared.

It wasn’t just lack of your belongings, somehow the house seemed much emptier. It didn’t smell as worn as it usually did, the warmth of a recently lit fire didn’t dwell in the air and there were no keys or shoes by the front door. You knew that Mary kept a clean house, but this was something different, and a sour thought suddenly hit you.

“You haven’t been home much?” You tried to keep the jealousy out of your voice and remain level headed, but it was proving hard when you were feeling so nauseous at the thought of him sharing a bed with somebody else.

“Lot of late nights at the office.” He shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and wrapped it around a hanger, his icy blue eyes catching yours. “Home didn’t feel like home anymore.”

You didn’t miss the implication in his words, but you chose to ignore it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I thought I was here to sleep.”

“You are. But what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer my guest a nightcap?”

You made a noise. Something halfway between a scoff and a huff.

“Tea? Whiskey?”

“No, I’m fine thank you.”

“What about hot chocolate? I still have some of that god awful strawberry stuff you love so much.”

Memories of sickly sweet strawberry kisses flash in your head. Images of Tommy wincing and groaning as if you had poisoned him. Belly laughs and pillow talk. All things you had tried so hard to forget.

“No. I don’t drink that anymore.”

He looked at you. There were no diamond chandeliers or dark corners or red velvet walls distorting your appearance, just the two of you stood opposite in the hallway of his mansion. He looked you up and down, not in a sleazy way, like the man at the bar who had so desperately wanted to get his hands under your dress but almost - longingly. There was something in his eyes. Swimming right in those ocean eyes was something you couldn’t quite make out, he opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak you heard the whine of the door above you.

“Mr Shelby! You’re back.” It was Mary, stood at the top of the stairs. Still dressed in her maids uniform despite the ungodly hour, she looked as pristine as ever, and you couldn’t think of a time you had seen the elderly woman without makeup on. She flew down the stairs, eager to offer Thomas anything she could, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she finally saw you.

“Miss (Y/L/N)!” She said, trying to control the shock in her voice. She hadn’t been there the day that you left, but it wouldn’t take a fool to guess what had happened between you and her boss. Just like you, she probably assumed you would never return to the Shelby house. After a moment she smiled kindly, regaining her composure after the initial shock. “It’s a pleasure to see you once again.”

“And you, Mary.”

“Oh! Mr Shelby I’ve made up your quarters and -” she stopped, realising what she was saying and she awkwardly shifted as she tried to change the subject. “Can I get you anything? Shall I bring you some tea? Or some wine?”

“Oh no. I’m fine thank you, really.”

“You know what Mary,” You heard Tommy say, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Can you fix us some drinks? Whatever’s in the cupboards is fine. Oh, and bring us those chocolates Ada brought from New York. We’ll be in the sitting room.”

“Tommy - ” You started, but he was already gone, walking through his house with renewed energy, and you strained your ears to hear the sentences he called out over his shoulder.

“One drink. For old times sake.”

“Ugh. You’ll be the death of me, Shelby.”

———————————————————————

It should have been awkward. It should have been awkward and uncomfortable and painful - but it wasn’t.

He lit a fire, something about the yellow flames and the crackling wood soothing you like warm milk. You missed the feel of his sofas, the ones that cost such an outrageous price that it made your eyes water, and you sunk into the cushions far more easily than you liked. Mary had made your favourite drink, and the situation felt so familiar that it was ridiculous, but it was more ridiculous how good everything felt.

He was as charming as ever. Giving you those side eye glances and cheeky smiles as he spoke, asking about your family and telling you stories of the trouble his brothers had been in. He moved around the room in a blur of navy, because as God would have it tonight of all nights he was wearing your favourite blue suit, the one that made him look so beautiful and powerful.

He didn’t ask about work, and you were glad, because you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

Perhaps an hour passed, the two of you dancing around each other, neither one wanting to be the one that crossed the line first. Your mind was blurry but you knew that this had gone on too long, you needed to pull the plug before it was too late, but as always, Tommy got there first.

“It feels like fate.” He said, his voice so much warmer than it had been a few moments before.

“What does?”

“Running into you tonight.”

You scoffed. “Please. Tommy Shelby doesn’t believe in fate.”

“I didn’t. Not until I met you.”

Your whole body felt like it had been set alight. He knew just what to say to get you to curl around his little finger. He was watching you intently, moving forward so his elbows were on his knees, as though he was desperate to hear your reply. He was being honest, more so than he had been in a long time, but your mind was too filled with the past to give into his sweet words.

“So,” You said, knocking back the last dregs of your drink. “Are you just going to pretend it never happened?”

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy.” You snarked. “You know what I mean.” A breathless laugh. “God, this is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Don’t say that.”

You rubbed your forehead, massaging away a migraine you could feel brewing. “I need to go to bed. I don’t want to get into all of this again.”

“(Y/N) - ”

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

You stood up and heard the sound of his glass of whisky hitting his red oak table. Your fingers touched the edge of the door handle, but he was pulling you backwards before you could leave. You were facing him, trying to keep your eyes away from his, not wanting to go falling into him the way your body desired.

“You might not want to talk but you can listen.” He said, so close to you that your noses were almost touching. You pursed your lips and squirmed like a child, but he raised an eyebrow and you huffed, letting him speak, his words shattering you like you were a sheet of ice.“Im still in love you.”

You bit your lip to stop from crying. The scab had been picked off, blood clotting down your ankles and onto the floor.

“Think I will be till the day I die. Even after.”

His words were so sincere and you wanted to believe them. You could feel him watching you, cornering you, willing you to say the words back, needing to hear the words fall from your lips.

You held up one finger, trying to stop him from speaking. “Don’t.”

“It’s true.”

You could feel the hot prickle of tears forming in your eyes, and the way your throat constricted like you’d been swallowing cotton balls.“Was this the plan all along? Invite me back, get me drunk and think I’ll crawl back into bed with you after you tell me a few lines?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would never do that to you.”

He was angry. More so with himself, he’s always been in control, so articulate and calculated, but he was losing his grip on you, his knuckles turning white. He knew he made a mistake that night when he told you to leave, but his pride was too strong to do anything about it. Seeing you tonight had been more than just a coincidence, he knew that, and everything in him was screaming at him to fight for you.

“I miss you.” It ached for him to say it out loud, such a powerful man admitting that you were his weakness, that you bring him to his knees like he’s a child.

“I miss you too, Tommy, you know I do. But - ”

“I fucked up.”

“Tom.”

“I never should have let you leave.”

“We - Us - It’ll never - ” You couldn’t think let alone speak, all of your words twisting and tumbling from your mouth like loose marbles.

“We were a lot of things, but you can’t tell me that we aren’t supposed to be together.”

“I don’t want to talk about this... I can’t!”

“So let’s not talk.”

His lips met yours and you were on fire. The breath you didn’t know you were holding was knocked out of you by the force of his body on yours. His hands were all over you, checking you were real, feeling the curve and dip of your body the way his mind had conjured up in the dark in the months that you had been gone, he savoured you entirely, he devoured you.

“This isn’t - This isn’t right.” It was lie. Nothing felt more right. Your whole body ached and quivered for him, you wanted to breathe in his smell and run your fingers through his hair until they bled, but you also didn’t want to go down without a fight.

He knew you too well though.

“Stop it.” He had you backed up against the wall, his body pressed in between your thighs. He’d caged you in, one hand curling softly under your jaw, manipulating you so that you had no choice but to look right into his damn sea foam eyes. “Stop being so stubborn.”

“Stop being such a prick then.”

Lips on your neck. His hands all over you. Inhaling your perfume and the smell of your hair, digging his fingertips into your hip, a jolt of pain that you knew would leave a bruise. He captured your lips again, relishing in the way you felt under him, he was desperate for more, and he smiled cheekily when he heard you moan.

“I thought you wanted to go to sleep.” He teased, his voice was playful but he was struggling to keep his composure, he felt like his head was being held underwater, the pleasure teetering on pain.

“I hate you.” You said, gasping for air, feeling adrenaline and liquor and lust flow through you.

“No you don’t.”

You bit down on his plump bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He winced slightly, and rolled his eyes, shoving you backwards into his bookcase, kissing you even harder. A few novels and a porcelain figurine fell to the floor, the small black horse shattering at your feet. He grumbled slightly, and you giggled into his neck. You bent down to try and collect the broken pieces but he swatted your hand away, kissing and sucking all across your neck and throat, wanting to mark his territory.

“Stop that. I don’t want you cutting yourself.” He muttered into your flesh, clasping your hands together and holding you by the wrists, refusing to let you do anything but melt into him - not that there was anything in the world you would rather be doing.

Slowly the kisses got softer, more tender, all across your collar and shoulders like raindrops. There was something methodical about it, almost poetic, like he was trying to savour the taste of your skin, and the way your body rippled under him. After a moment he stopped, his hands tangling into your hair, gripping you by your jaw, looking into your glossed out, wide eyes.

“I really fucking missed you. I’m sorry.”

You shuddered. “I know.”

“Tomorrow we’ll talk. Alright?” There are a million things he needed to say. A million things he needed you to know, but there was nothing more important to him at that moment than having you under him, letting his body show you all of the things he couldn't put into words. He needed you, all of you. His head was fucked and he needed the wash of calm you gave him, he needed to feel whole, the way that only you could make him.

“Tomorrow.” You whispered.

He nodded solemnly. Ducking his head and pressing your mouths together, hot and raw and heavy. You were sweeter than sugar, stronger than whisky and prettier than all of the stars in the sky, and he struggled to keep himself from buckling at the knees under your touch. The only thing that could stop him from moulding your bodies together were the sweet little words that left your lips, the ones that rang like a gospel in his ears.

“Take me to bed, Tommy.”

————————————————————

He broke it off three months prior.

You had been missing each other, your schedules hectic and mismatched, and it had been a good few weeks since you had spoken for more than a few stolen seconds over the telephone. Finally, like the sun parting through rain clouds, there was one weekend that was empty in both of your diaries and Tommy told you to expect a car outside of your flat one Friday afternoon.

A whole weekend. Two days and three nights spent with your beloved, it should have been a time filled with late nights and rumpled bedsheets, coffee in the morning and wearing nothing but his linen shirts and the pretty lilac underwear he loved so much - but it turned soon turned sour.

On Sunday you had been making rhubarb pie. Folding and rolling the pastry between your fingertips, listening to the birds whistling through the open window and the lull of soft jazz from the radio behind you.

He had taken a call. A sullen look falling over his face as soon as he answered the phone. He had shut himself in his study, and all you could hear was the deep rumble of his voice and the sound of his footsteps, and so you left him alone, and busied yourself with other things.

It had all been so wonderful. Riding his horses through the fields, reading books under his arm as he rifled through papers, stealing kisses that tasted like hard candies and peppermint. You'd forced him to relax, made him take a bubble bath with you, poured lavender and vanilla oil across his aching shoulders until he let out an involuntary moan, ran your fingers through his hair until his breath evened out and his eyes fluttered shut, finally feeling at peace next to the woman he loved.

You’d laughed and made love and kissed and danced and it had all be so perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

For 48 hours he had been yours. He wasn’t “Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders,” he had been your Tommy. You weren’t a fool, you knew that work was always the most important thing to him, that he lived and breathed for the company he had built from his two bare hands, his work ethic and brilliance was something you admired about him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t sting when he slipped back into business mode.

It had been about an hour, and you were cleaning the counters, something soothing about finding the dark marble granite under the mess of flour. You knew that Mary would have a fit if she knew you were cleaning, but you enjoyed the normalcy it gave you. You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his matte leather brogues on the tile in the hallway, and you lifted your head when you felt his presence in the doorway.

“You need to leave.”

His tone was so sudden and blunt that it almost made you laugh, but one look at the sallowness of his skin and the intensity in his eyes made you straighten up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Sabini.”

“What about him?”

“He knows - he fucking knows.”

He was being uncharacteristically agitated, and it sent a deep chill down your spine. You lurched forward, hands spread, wanting to carry some of his worry. “Knows what? Tommy, calm down.”

“He’s had men lurking outside your flat.”

“What?”

“One of the new boys spotted ‘em. Fucking filth have been there all weekend.”

You felt your heart sink to your stomach. Truthfully, whilst the thought of Sabini and his men watching you made your skin crawl, you were more worried by the way it seemed to have frazzled Tommy. You weren’t used to seeing him so... anxious, and that sent red hot warning signs to your brain.

Your relationship had never been a secret per se, but you never made it public. After a few months of rendezvous in hotels and bars up and down the country, and Tommy realising his feelings for you were much more than just lust - he laid everything out bare. He told you he wanted you. But he also told you what the consequences of hanging off his arm were. You knew the risks, knew what chaos his love could bring, but you were falling so deeply that none of it mattered to you. You weren’t stupid, and Tommy did everything in his power to keep you safe, and the two of you found a mellow middle ground, a place where you could be happy and young and in love, without all of the mayhem.

“Well - it’s alright. I’m here. I’m safe aren’t I? He was probably just scoping the place out, he probably thought you were there and - ”

You were rambling, and most of what you were saying was untrue. You both knew the reason that Sabini was there, it was a message, a warning. A threat to Tommy that he could take away his weakness with one snap of his slimy little fingers.

You shrugged off your apron, and stepped towards him, shaking your head. “We knew that one day this would happen. That people would find out, it’s not your fault Tom.”

“We were stupid. We were reckless.”

“And what? We were supposed to just stop living our lives in case somebody saw us?”

“Not just somebody. Somebody who could fucking kill you.”

“Tommy.”

“You need to leave.”

“Listen to me -”

“I’ll get Bernard to drive you to the station. Your friend...” He paused momentarily, trying to remember a name he had heard in passing. “Sarah? She still lives in Manchester doesn’t she? You’ll stay with her till I’ve sorted this out.”

You scoffed, your eyes the size of dinner plates.“I’m not leaving.” You tried to make him see sense, but you were having a hard time keeping your voice levelled. “I’ve got work, Tom. I can’t just up and leave.”

He ignored you. You could see his brain whirring a mile a minute, the wheels inside his mind frantically looking for a solution. You marched over to him, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not scared.”

“Well then you’re a fool.”

“Am I? For not running at the first sign of danger?”

“Don’t fucking start with me. Not about this. This isn’t some fucking game.”

“I never said it was, Tom. But what? I’m supposed to hide out in another fucking city until all of this settles down.”

“Stop being so fucking difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult. I know what I signed up for, we both did. We knew this would happen eventually.”

“And now that is has - we have to be smart.”

“Not everything in life is a business deal.”

“What would you know about that?”

It was a low blow. Something that struck you like a winning punch to the gut, you stepped back from the impact, shaking your head and pursing your lips. You’ll let him brew in his anger, let him get worked up and pissed off, and you’ll wait for his apology in a few days, something expensive and designer showing up at your front door, his way of saying “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“You know what? I’m leaving. Call me in a few days when you get your head fucking screwed back on. We can talk then.”

“No.”

It came out strangled, like the word sliced the inside of his throat when he said it.

“What?”

“You need to stay away. We need to end this.”

“End this?” You scoffed. “What? Like we’re just a business deal?”

“It’s not safe, and I can’t do anything that’s going to jeopardise the company.”

“The fucking company?” You were furious, your body stinging with hurt, feeling betrayal wash over you like sour milk. “How - How dare you!”

“I think it’s best if we spend some time apart.”

“So this is it then? You’ll throw away everything just because some fucking man has been looking around corners?” His silence made you more enraged, and you willed him to fight back. Fight for you. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to go, Tom?”

Silence.

And then - “It’s not safe.”

“Fuck you.”

That was the last thing you had said to him. Three words replaced with two that shattered around the room like an earthquake. You had tears in your eyes, and you rushed upstairs to pack your things, your heart breaking into sharp little pieces inside of you. He could hear the start of your sobs, the ones you tried so hard to muffle with your hand and he truly fucking hated himself. He gripped the marble above the fireplace and steadied his breathing, pushing out any thoughts of the weekend. He willed himself to shove away the happy memories, the sound of your laugh and the smell of your skin, the way he didn’t hear the shovels when you were beside him, safe and warm in his arms.

He needed to do what he did best, regain control and protect those he cared about, and right at the fucking top of the list was you. Any niggles of rationality and guilt telling him that pushing you away was wrong quickly turned to ash in his mind, he was certain that this was the right thing to do, despite the way that it really fucking hurt. He had to keep you safe. Men like him didn’t get to have nice things like you.

So he shut the door to his office, muffling the sound of you rummaging around upstairs, a part of you wishing and hoping that he would open the door and kiss you and apologise, and instead he picked up the phone, and went back to work.

———————————————————————

You woke up to sunlight painting your skin, and an empty bed, the silk sheets in disarray and bundled beside your bare body.

Oh fuck.

Like an ice cold bucket of water dropping over your head, you remembered every detail of what had happened overnight. Your skin relived the feeling of hands and fingertips and oh god, tongue dragging all across you, branded into your memory like a burn. It was the best nights sleep you had gotten in a long time, and the bed was so warm and soft and smelling like sin that you struggled to even lift your head from the pillow to check the time.

Mid morning.

You hadn’t slept in this long for a while, and you knew the reason why. Head slightly pounding from too much alcohol and adrenaline, you crawled out of bed, washing the remnants of last nights makeup from your face and pulling on your crumpled dress and stockings that had been haphazardly flung over the furniture. Your heart lurched a little when you freshened up in the bathroom and noticed your toothbrush still in the holder on the sink, right next to his.

You could hear cluttering downstairs and followed the noise, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, unable to stop the small smile that the sight gave you. He had evidently sent Mary on an errand, something far away so he could make you both breakfast in peace, away from prying eyes. He looked so boyish, so domestic, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, nimble fingers turning the bacon on the pan, his hair mussed from sex and sleep. It made you feel like you had swallowed a match. Your whole body alight from seeing him so gentle and vulnerable, so bare for just you to see.

Thomas Shelby whisking eggs and squeezing oranges, barefoot in his own kitchen, the sight rarer than a unicorn, and you were the only person who ever got close enough.

“Hi.” It left your mouth awkwardly and rolled off your tongue like an ice cube.

“Morning.” He turned and smiled, his lazy eyes trawling the length of your body. You hadn’t noticed it, but he felt a flicker of hurt that you were in your own clothes, a part of him wanting and hoping that you would be in one of his shirts, something that he loved much more than he could comprehend. He shook his head, willing the thoughts away. “It’ll be done soon. I think I’ve burnt the toast though, and probably added too much salt to the eggs.”

You smiled thinly, the light not reaching your eyes. This was all too much, all too soon. He was here and he was beautiful and you were right at the frontline, ready to get your heart broken all over again.“Last night,” You cleared your throat, as though the words were lodged deep inside. “It was a mistake.”

He didn’t blink, cool stare focused on the meal he was preparing, long fingers methodically slicing and dicing, as though your words didn’t make his heart thump against his rib cage. He didn’t like it, not one bit, the way that it sounded as though you regretted the time you had spent together. He never wanted you to feel like that, like the intimacy you had shared was something crude, as though you were a one night stand of a drunken fuck at a bar, this was so much more than that. This was love.

But Tommy liked holding his cards to his chest, and it was much easier to tease you then tell the truth.

“It didn’t feel like a mistake. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

You scoffed, hating his cockiness yet knowing that he was obviously right. “Don’t be a twat, Tommy.”

The ghost of a smile on his face, if you had blinked you might have missed it, but you were always the best person at reading him - the only person he had let close enough to see him, flaws and all. He always liked when you bickered with him, his little firecracker. He didn’t tolerate just anyone speaking to him the way you did, but he would let you get away with bloody murder and he couldn’t deny that it didn’t bring a flush to his cheeks when you got particularly feisty.

You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, his hands full with cutlery and plates filled with slap up breakfast foods, and you couldn’t deny that your mouth was watering.

“Eat first. We’ll talk later.”

You let out a sound halfway between a huff and a groan but caved in, clambering into the seat he had pulled open for you and piling your fork high. He watched you with a smile, the way you looked so young and pretty and angelic in the morning light, no makeup on and eyes still drowsy with sleep, like some kind of Renaissance painting he wanted to hang above his fireplace and stare at whenever things got rough.

He filled the silence with small talk, noting the weather and a story about one of John’s kids hiding a puppy in her room for almost a week without anyone noticing. You listened as best as you could, but you were distracted by the palomino mare you could see grazing in the fields behind his house, and something was prickling at your skin like brambles.

You cleared your throat, acting as nonchalant as you could muster. “Emma tells me that May Carlton is training your new mare.” Your knife sliced through your yolk, rich butter yellow bleeding across your plate. You tried to keep your voice steady, but you could feel the thickness in your throat as you remembered how it hurt like a bullet wound when your best friend had told you of his new associate. “I hear she is quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.” He murmured, cutting the edge of fat from his bacon. “But she’s nothing compared to you.”

You tried to pretend that his words didn’t make you swoon, and he tried to hide how much he loved it when you got jealous, something about the fire in your eyes making him want to push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t talk.

He paused, a coy smile on his lips. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

You scoffed. “Well, it’s only fair. What with all those Blinders following me. Can’t even go to the bloody shops without one watching me.”

So you had noticed. He had half been expecting a blazing call where you yelled at him for having men watch over you, and it had left a hole of disappointment in his gut when it never came.

“You know I would never let you be unprotected.”

“I know.”

Your eyes met, a wave of warm affection washed over the both of you, but you pulled your gaze back quickly, focusing your attention anywhere else.

“You should come and watch her.”

You froze, wondering if Tommy had just invited you to spend the day with May Carlton, you were sure that would be one evening that would end in blood and tears.

“The mare.” He said, picking up at your uncomfortableness and biting back a smile. “We’ve called her ‘Wicked Gypsy’, and she is brilliant. I reckon she could win the whole bloody thing.”

You liked how passionate he got when he talked about horses. Liked the way that he seemed to light up like a child, despite all the finery and bravado, you liked knowing that the little boy inside of him was still there, hidden deep, deep down, but still there. You were too busy being captivated by him that it took you a moment to realise that he had asked you to join him at the races.

You wanted nothing more, you truly wanted nothing more than to be his girl again. Cradled under his arm, dressed in lace and fur, his lips pressed to the heat of your throat, sweet little words whispered in your ear, a hand tight and possessive around your waist - but it just wasn’t that easy.

You sighed, crossing your cutlery. “Tom. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I want you there. I need my good luck charm.”

“Tommy, after everything. I don’t think we should.”

Firmer now, he looks at you, emphasising his point.“I need you there. When she wins, I need my best girl to be right by my side.”

He was so slippery. So sickly sweet that you could drown in him, struggle to move in the molasses that dripped from his tongue. He was dangerous, carnal fire and sin, but he wasn’t lying, he needed you, really fucking needed you.

You exhaled, thinking things through, and massaging the migraine brewing in your temples. He could see you trying to think of an excuse, another lie about how you’re bad for each other, but he got there first, not wanting to hear it.

“I’ll have a car pick you up on Friday.” He turned his hands so his palms were facing the ceiling, eyebrows raised playfully, “Or... maybe you can stay here the night. You know you’re welcome.”

Always so bloody charming. But you can’t stop the tsunami of thoughts, the mistakes of the past. “What is this, Tommy? What are we doing?”

“I fucked up. I never should have let you go.”

“But you did. And - I don’t want to get hurt all over again.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You always do.”

You words stung him worse than if you had slapped him across the face, and he had to take a moment to swallow the sour taste that had been swimming across his tongue. He reached his hands out, clasping them with yours, so large and warm and safe, and he spoke with intensity.

“Just - Come with me, Friday. Please. I can’t do this without you.”

Friday. Suddenly it was no longer about slipping up or falling back in love and wondering what your friends might think when you told them, it was about something else that you needed to tell him.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? Why not?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving where?” His tone was one of disbelief, his eyes sizing you up, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate excuse.

You sighed, taking your hands away from under his, noticing the lack of warmth immediately. “To Oxford. Peggy transferred me to the company over there.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You did what?”

You could see him thinking, wondering how none of his boys had found out this priceless piece of information that makes him want to throw his expensive fucking china at the wall.

“I did it all through work. Emma’s the only one who knew. I’m getting the train Wednesday night.”

He stood up so quickly his chair squealed across the wood floor, his mouth agape. “So what? You’re just going to leave?”

“There’s nothing here for me.”

He pointed one finger at you, scolding you like a child. “Don’t say that.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head. “It’s true isn’t it? Why should I waste more time on this stupid cat and mouse game?”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?”

“You left me. For three months I was completely alone! What happens when something comes up, huh? How do I know that you won’t leave me all over again?” It was hard to keep the emotion from your voice, hard not to show just how badly the impact of those three months had been. “We need this! Some...some fucking space. Maybe being a few cities away will be good.”

It was a lie. Nothing sounded worse, but you had to say your piece because god knows you can’t keep holding everything in.

His voice was frayed, split like the hairs in an old rope. “Don’t. Don’t give me space. That’s the last thing I want from you.”

His words and his actions never lined up, and it made your blood boil. All of the anger you had turned into tears had remoulded into red hot rage, and you slammed your hands down on his expensive counter tops, flesh on marble ringing around the kitchen. “So then why did you let me go? Why did you tell me to leave?”

“Because I thought that was best for you!”

“You aren’t the one who gets to decide that!”

“Everything I do. Everything I fucking do - is to protect you.”

“Don’t say that. Protecting me isn’t making me leave, and then not speaking to me for three fucking months.”

You could see the click in his jaw, the vein in his throat throbbing. “You knew what you signed up for when you met me.”

“No, actually, I don’t think I did.”

It was true. You expected late nights, days of no contact, blood staining your bathroom counter and men watching your every move. You expected fights and make ups, going to the races in your finery and then walking down the shit filled streets of Small Heath, but you never expected that he would just leave you the way he did.

He was breathless, trying to control the rise and fall of his chest and the way that his fingers clenched. He never thought that you would leave, he had some fucked up feeling that you would always come back to him, that the two of you would always end up on the same ship, drifting along the same ocean. It was maddening. He had tasted you once again, had you under him, his girl reduced to putty in his hands. It had all made sense, the night seemed to be sweeter and the stars a little brighter and his lungs a little looser when you were next to him. It had all felt so right, and now you were going to leave.

He put it down to exasperation at not being in control anymore, the fact that he was watching you slip between his fingers once again like grains of sand, and so he said the worst thing he thought of, something that he knew would rip through you like a shot to the heart.

“Well at least I got one last fuck eh? That was all you were really any good for anyway.”

He could hear it immediately, the sound of the bullet leaving the gun, or perhaps that’s your heart shattering in two. He regretted it, he regretted it so badly that he wished he could pull the words back down his throat and swallow them like they were poison.

Your eyes watered but you didn’t let him see you cry. Your mouth opened and then closed not wanting to waste your breath on a reply, not wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt you. You didn’t bother with a reply, not trusting yourself enough to talk, only wanting to be alone to like your wounds in peace. So you turned and left, last nights heels echoing through the hallway, the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut, silence falling once again.

Tommy pushed the plates off the table.

—————————————————————————-

Wednesday night and you were listening to your favourite record, something to distract you from the suitcase you were packing. Since the fight you hadn’t heard from Tommy, the first thing you’d packed had been your phone, pulling it off the wall as soon as you got home, not wanting to be on edge waiting for his call.

You didn’t allow yourself the time to wallow, refused to let yourself be beaten up by the words he had said, the ones that hung around your head like dead files. You hated that you let him speak to you that way, and you also hated that you missed him with every bone in your body.

Lilac, sapphire and emerald green. You threw your clothes together, watching the colours fade into a blur. You hadn’t packed anything he had given you, but you didn’t want to throw them out either and so they sat in a lonely purgatory in your wardrobe; a little gift to the next tenant.

You knew who was there the second the doorbell rang. Well, rang three times. The sound so shrill and violent that you tipped your head back in frustration. You considered leaving him outside in the summer rain, but soon the rings were switched with incessant knocking, your door surely about to break from the weight of his fists.

“Fucking hell.” You seethed, dropping your shoes onto the floor and stepping over the piles of toiletries stacked in the hallway. “Fuck you, Tom.”

You wanted to say those three words to him as soon as you opened the door, hoping your eyes reflected the anger bubbling inside of you, but he cut you off with a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck you’re still here.”

“Not for long.”

You tried to shut the door, you really did, but he pushed past and into your flat with little effort.

“Get out, Tom. Now.”

He spun round to face you, and you finally got a good look at him. He looked rough, frazzled almost. His hair messy and his shirt ruffled and his eyes were mostly white, frantically watching your face.

“I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“You came all this way just to tell me that?”

“I should have followed you sooner. I should have followed you the second you walked through that door.”

You quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “Which time?”

He spread his hands out, biting down on his tongue. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.”

You sighed, kicking a stray shampoo bottle with your feet, something to fill the emptiness that surrounded you. “I’ve made up my mind.”

He moved one step closer and you moved one step back. “Is this what you really want?”

“We can’t always get what we want.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You threw your hands up in despair. “I’m not doing this with you now, Tommy. My train leaves in an hour and I have my first day tomorrow and I don’t want to fuck it all up.”

“If it’s what you really want, then you should go. But don’t leave if it’s all because of me.”

You scoffed. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“And I’m not going to let you go without telling you that I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Tommy.” It’s a warning. It’s a threat. But it hangs between you both, lingering in the air like smoke.

“I know you love me too. I know you do. I also know that I’m a massive twat who fucked everything up, but I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

You're exasperated. His words like honey, but you’re scared that that’s all they are, and you’re more scared that they might be so much more. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I don’t care about anything. Nothing matters to me more than you. I don’t care if Sabini has men outside my house every fucking night, you’re only safe with me, and I can only do this with you by my side.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“If I have to spend every day proving how much you mean to me then I will. I can’t - I can’t be without you.”

He was so close to you. Your noses almost touching, the hair on your arms and your spine sticking up, something electric about him. You want to hate him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing in your dimly lit hallway, looking dishevelled and beautiful and dare you say, broken. The edge of his jawline caught the light, shimmering like a jewel, and the pools in his eyes were so sincere and so deeply blue that you wanted to fall right into them.

Were you going to do this? Were you going to let him in again? You thought of everything - rain splattered kisses, dancing under the pale moonlight, sour whisky in the corner of his office. You thought of all of the chaos, all of the blood, all of the family arguments and shouting that echoed around his manor. You thought of all the tears you had shed, all the times your throat had been raw and your heart shattered into pieces. You thought of strawberry fields and his hand in yours, laughing with his brothers until you couldn’t breathe, the way that he felt and smelt and spoke like home.

It had been bad, but it was also the best thing you had ever been a part of.

You sighed loudly, clicking your tongue, meeting him somewhere in the middle. “Fuck. I’m never going to get my deposit back.”

His whole body trembled, relief coming from every pore, and he made a vow to go to Church with Pol on Sunday and thank whoever was listening for getting you back. “Well you’re moving in with me so there’s nothing to worry about.”

You rolled your eyes, his large hands wrapping around your jaw, making you look at him. He smelt like woodsmoke and peppermint, like a million bad decisions and the tang of a smoking barrel. It took everything in you to not buckle at the knees and let him carry you like a child.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He cradled your face, hoping his words came off as strongly out loud as they did in his head. He’s not going to fuck up again, but even he can’t stop his brain from short circuiting at the sight of you, so pretty with your doe eyes and raspberry lips, the skin on your throat just begging for the tug of his teeth.

You buried your head in his chest when he pulled you close, your words muffled through the cotton of his shirt. “If you ever speak to me like that again I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

A soft smile, one that washes over him like warm candlelight. “I know.”

He’s not letting you go, not again. You’re a fucking part of him, like the blood that runs through his veins and the steady thump of his chest, you’re a part of his body, the reason why he can breathe and run and love. You’re the thing that stops the tremor in his hands, the thing that makes him so unshakeable, so tough and in control.

He had something to fight for.

And only knowing that you’re by his side, safe and warm and pressed into the crook of his body, does he finally allow himself to exhale.

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #orion writes

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kirishwima · 3 years

Note

what quirks do the mysme characters have ?? would they go pro ?

this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and ive been wanting to answer it cuz i LOVE the crossover of bnha x mysme!!! so after long deliberation, here’s my lengthy, ranty answer-and if you wanna talk more about quirks or bnha p l e a s e hit me up im always happy to talk about this ;u;

YOOSUNG:

- I think what'd really fit him and be adorable af is if he could talk to animals, kind of like Koda!!

-He manifested his quirk earlier than most-at about 2-3 years old, and his parents found out after they found him crying because their house cat called him, and I quote, 'a bag of flesh and bones ready to eat'

-At first he didn't like his quirk much-something about seeing a cute chihuahua and rather than that high-pitched funny bark hearing 'i will MESS YOU UP' can be scarring to a kid

-Eventually he came to love it though! He found out it could be so useful when interacting with injured animals

-For this reason, rather than going pro, I think he'd become a vet once again!

ZEN:

-Do not even argue with me on this one baby boy would have a Siren quirk!

-Singing certain melodies can have different effects on people-one melody can lull them to sleep, others, more dangerous ones, can make them feel fear, anger, agression etc

-It took him a while to learn what melody and pitch of voice triggers each emotion, and for a while he was afraid to sing-his parents calling him a monster over it didn't help either :(

-Yet he insisted on using this power for good. He worked hard, memorised each melody and even created more complex ones, and would only use them if he had to!

-(I feel like he might also have some mild regeneration quirk maybe passed down from one parent cuz who said we can't have dual quirks? Not the Todorokis thats for sure)

-I feel like he'd be kind of like Hawks, in the sense that he's more of a celebrity than a hero; everyone knows of Zen the knight!

JAEHEE:

-ok at first I was writing a plot for a speed quirk but THEN i had this idea, you'll have to bear with me as I ramble through it: Jaehee has a matter manipulation quirk.

-Soph, what the heck is that, you ask? Well, here's the breakdown of it

-Jaehee can manipulate particles around her on a 4m radius. That means she can manipulate anything, change its shape, position etc-and with enough effort, eventually can also manipulate time IN this radius only.

-Think like matrix-style, bullets flying, but the moment they reach Jaehee, she manipulates them to slow down and they just casually graze by her as if nothing ever happened-ITS A BADASS QUIRK OK

-It's a little OP though, so as a drawback, she gets exhausted easily while using it, so it has quite the cooldown period.

-Despite the cool quirk, I don't think she'd want to go pro. All she ever wanted was to live her life quietly. But with a quirk like that, she's bound to get into crazy situations all the time.

-Now I want a fantasy-comedy show of powerful quirk-bearing Jaehee aaaa

JUMIN:

-I think he'd have a quirk like Shinso's! The moment you address him, he can, if he wills it, manipulate the person as he sees fit.

-But, unlike Shinso, Jumin can do one more thing with his quirk-Thought manipulation/Insertion. He can think of something, or simply voice it (for a stronger effect), and convince the other that this was their thought/idea

-i.e: Jumin, sitting across a potential company partner, smirking as he thinks to himself 'I want to sign that contract'.

-The partner, eyes wide while scanning through the document 'hm..yes, I want to sign this contract. Why didn't I want to earlier?!'

-He actually keeps his quirk a top secret, since the moment it manifested; no one would ever want to work with him face to face if they knew, now would they?

-Plus he's afraid deep down, afraid of people being scared of him.

-So he doesn't go pro; he keeps this quirk a secret, and god forbid anyone tries to find out about it.

SAEYOUNG/707/LUCIEL:

-Electric quirk!!! Electric quirk!

-Sae with little zaps coming out his fingertips grinning menacingly 🥰🥰🥰 id let him electrocute me

-Similar to Denki but minus the 'go dumb if overuse' thing; you're on my blog and we love angst and gore here, so here’s the catch:

-if he overuses his quirk, he starts to become vulnerable to it too. After all, it makes some sense-we have neurons firing signals in our bodies in similar fashion that electricity is conducted. Were you to touch a wire, not only is it very dangerous, the current MUST be conducted. So with electrical injuries-there’s always en ENTRY and EXIT wound, where the current came into and exited the body.

-So overusing his quirk can cause severe damage to himself, and is a reason why he’s riddled with scars-on his arms especially, but also legs (an often exit point for currents), back e.t.c.

-He found out about his quirk whilst protecting his brother. He…didn’t mean to use it. It terrified him. But it was a means of survival, and he was ready to use it no matter what.

-I really feel like someone form LoV would try to convince him to join them-and if they were to protect his brother too…he just might’ve.

-If we’re ignoring canon and going into a full BNHA universe, then I think Saeyoung would definitely go pro! He’d want to help people, and he’d be such an amazing hero, loved by so many people <3

V/JIHYUN:

-This is soo biased given that V’s my baby, but mmm, i really feel like he’d have a healing quirk, WITH a regeneration quirk mixed-this is my absoloute favorite quirk idea, and here’s why:

-How this quirk would work, is that he’d be able to take on any injury someone may have, big or small, so long as it’s not lethal-dead is dead after all. He can also heal significantly faster than average via self-regeneration, so he’s virtually overpowering, right?

-Well, here’s the catch:

-Anytime he takes on an injury or damage, he feels all of it-every single thing, and whilst the physical injury vanishes, the pain lingers, longer than it should. It does go away eventually, but taking on massive injuries is jarring and can scar him, physically and mentally.

-If we follow canon, after his eyes are hurt-his quirk deals with it, healing the tissue fast, yet he keeps injuring it himself, hating his quirk for the very first time.

-If we go full bnha AU, then he’d try to train his quirk as much as possible, and would go pro, but as a support hero, helping the injured after fights e.t.c.

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

-Hmm, I’ve been thinking about this, and here’s what I’m thinking: I think Sae’s quirk would be bloodbending.

-Essentially he’d be able to use it in 2 forms; one is that he can use his own blood to form weapons, support items e.t.c (think blood swords….badass)

-The other form, is that he can bend the blood of others-anything with blood is doable, human or not, so long as there’s an injury, no matter how minor, for him to drag the blood out of. He can’t bend it whilst the skin is completely unpunctured, as cool as that would be, and he can only use it on one person per time.

-I think he’d hate his quirk at first-consider it hideous, monstrous e.t.c. He’d cry about it, his brother comforting him, reassuring him the only monsters out there are people judging him for a quirk he has no control over.

-If we go with canon: Rika DEFINITELY makes him use his quirk even when he doesn’t want to. He hates himself for it, spiraling depeer into her clutch.

-If we go fanon: He’d definitely be scouted by the LoV, but he’d never accept their offer. He instead wants to become a hero, and put his quirk to good use, to protect others. So I think Sae would go pro too!

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rintarous · 4 years

Text

try again — a. ryuunosuke

SYNOPSIS | realizing nothing has changed between you and your ex, you thought it would be better if you two would just try again.

GENRE | ex to lovers!au, fluff, angst??

A/N | first piece for bsd omfg im shaking fr,,, takes place around dead apple time lmfao hhhhhh kyoka doesnt exist in this sooo ur ability is demon snow???? fuck i hate this so much lmfao also p.p.s this is my gif teehee ++ ty mal for beta-reading this HAHAHHA i will now [rest] after posting this cs i am: shy good day

“hurry up and go!” you hissed at atsushi who was struggling to turn off the safety on his gun while you were trying to fend off demon snow. atsushi lets out a yelp as he fumbles with his gun. before atsushi could pull the trigger, demon snow was shoved away by no one other than your ex, akutagawa ryuunosuke.

akutagawa stands up from the ground with a huff. “akutagawa!” atsushi exclaims, aiming his gun towards the boy. akutagawa clears his throat, making brief eye contact with you. you stared at him with an uneasy expression on your face. it has been awhile since you last saw the boy you once loved.

“what a pathetic weapon” akutagawa deadpans, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “no pea shooter is going to have an effect on her” he emphasizes the last word, her, motioning to rashomon who seemed to have a mind of its own just like demon snow. just as rashomon struts in, you felt demon snow’s presence behind you.

before anyone could attack, the weretiger has pounced on rashomon, sending it to the other side of the street. “how amusing.” akutagawa comments, “let’s see who comes out on top” an amused smile on his face watching his ability take on his proclaimed enemy’s ability.

“now isn’t the time for that!” atsushi interjects. as the two was about to start bickering in the middle of an ability battle, demon snow takes this chance to make a move on you. you easily blocked her katana with your knife just in time.

“there should be a secret passage nearby for the mafia brass!” you managed to let out. akutagawa scowls, knowing you were right. “tsk. let’s go, jinko” he calls out to atsushi as he runs towards the restaurant. atsushi looked like he was deep in thought. whether or not to follow akutagawa or help you with fighting your own ability.

“hey-” “just go! i’ll be there, i promise!” you cut him off, knowing how long he decides to make a decision. you manage to shove demon snow far back but she was quick on her feet. “all right..” atsushi then follows akutagawa.

you bought yourself some time after sending demon snow flying. you immediately run towards the restaurant that had a secret passage and swiftly maneuver around the bar, barely managing to get inside the elevator and just before demon snow could get you, the doors closed.

“phew” you huff, catching your breath. “tsk, how weak” you hear akutagawa comment. the air was thick and stuffy. it’s almost like you couldn’t breathe. it was pitch black in the box too, making the situation far more worse for you and akutagawa. you wanted to avoid him as soon as possible but with the given situation, you can’t.

“this emergency passage was built in case for a gifted attack. the fog won’t reach us here” akutagawa states. hearing his voice again sorta made your heart ache. you truly missed him being around you at all times.

“what is that fog?” atsushi asked. “dragon’s breath” you hear akutagawa reply. you focused your attention on the buttons in front of you, not wanting to hear anything. trying to clear your head and getting a hold of yourself. you’re not gonna let some stupid boy change that. your mission is how to get your ability back and that was it.

“y/n,” akutagawa calls. you felt your breath hitch hearing your name slip off his tongue like that. it felt like home to you almost. “with neither of us having abilities, you could finally kill me just like what you said that night” he says. emphasizing on the word ‘that’; reminding you of that painful night you’re sure you’ll never forget.

the night you two broke things off. the night you never thought would come in a million years.

you didn’t utter a word and continued to stare at the buttons in front of you. akutagawa tilts his head to the side “what’s wrong?” he taunts. “don’t you have a score to settle with me?” his words laced in venom but you knew better. he was testing you. he was testing if you had the guts to kill him.

atsushi scoffs, “y/n-chan doesn’t think of you anymore!” he butts in. akutagawa felt his heart drop when atsushi mentioned that. ‘have you moved on from me?’ was a question that asks himself repeatedly. his feeling of hurt instantly changed into anger. how dare this nobody speak for you.

“want to end this while we don’t have our abilities?” akutagawa challenges him. “stop right there” you interrupt the two boys, standing in between the two of them so they don’t start lashing out. you sent a look at atsushi before turning to akutagawa. “cut to the chase. do you know how to get our abilities back?”

akutagawa lets out a chuckle. ‘what was so funny?’ you thought to yourself. “that’s the first thing you say to me in months?” he then clears his throat once more, “but yeah. i know a way”

“what is it?” atsushi exclaims once more. “defeat the ability, it would come back to the owner” akutagawa shrugs. he looks at you then to atsushi, “are you that uninformed?” he rolls his eyes. you stare at his face for a bit. your heart racing as it seems like all your memories with him are crashing down on you. did you miss him this much?

“what is your plan?” atsushi’s question bringing you back to reality. “the same as ours” you respond knowing akutagawa well. akutagawa hums, “i’m going to shred shibusawa’s organs and end his life” akutagawa swears. “why? is there any other way to save yokohama?” he asks the question towards atsushi.

“we won’t kill!” atsushi declares. “that’s not what the armed detective agency does” he continued. akutagawa lets out a sarcastic laugh. “how funny.” he laughs, “you really are something, jinko”

“y/n understands what this job is all about” akutagawa suddenly looks at you. you two make eye contact and for a second there, you see his eyes soften at the sight of you. you quickly look away to hide the blush that was now forming on your cheeks. “she’s a former port mafia, after all” he sighs, remembering his golden days shared with you.

“i left the mafia to see the light of day, we talked about this already” you spoke, “i left the mafia to join the agency” you take a deep breath before looking at atsushi dead in the eye. “but the mafia killings are different from the agency’s. there’s a difference” you say.

akutagawa can’t help but smirk a little at your statement. knowing you were at his side rather than his enemy and your colleague. “y/n-chan…” atsushi stares at you in disbelief. “this wouldn’t have happened if dazai-san didn’t join the enemy side” akutagawa claims, “i’ll be the one to kill him.”

atsushi yanks out his gun and aims it at akutagawa. you don’t know what came over you but in one swift move, you jumped right in front of your ex boyfriend, shielding him from atsushi. akutagawa stares at you for a moment. ‘you still haven’t changed one bit’ he thinks to himself.

“i’m not letting you kill dazai-san!” atsushi yells. “and i’m not letting you kill him either” you snap back at atsushi. “y/n-chan.. why?” atsushi questions. from behind, akutagawa smiles and he was almost ready to hug you right there. “just.. don’t kill him. that’s my job” you dismissed.

before atsushi could say anything the elevator doors opened. akutagawa moves around you, not missing the chance to at least touch you in any shape possible. his touches still have that lingering feel to it and leaves you behind with atsushi in the elevator. “we’re not going with you” atsushi claims.

akutagawa doesn’t say anything and walks towards more into the darkness. the elevator dings, ready to close the doors when you put your hand over it and rush to akutagawa. “i’m going with him” you tell atsushi. “eh?!”

in the end atsushi tags along with you. you walked beside akutagawa with atsushi trailing behind you. “y/n-chan, why are you following him..” you hear atsushi dread . “it’s simple. he has information” you look back at atsushi, “he’s a powerful asset and we both have the same goal” you say, turning your attention to akutagawa.

akutagawa watches you from his peripheral vision before noticing the familiar cellphone dangling on your neck. “you still have that cellphone your mother gave to you?” he asked. you don’t say anything and walked faster. “mother?” you hear atsushi ask.

akutagawa stops in his tracks and faces atsushi, “you haven’t even been told about that?” rolling his eyes, akutagawa turns his attention back to you. “oy, wait for me” he calls to you, picking up his pace to walk next to you. atsushi can only stare at the two of you with a million thoughts running in his head.

“what was the shortest route again?” you ask akutagawa beside you. “0505” he answers back. you hummed and continued to walk beside him. “i see you still haven’t changed” akutagawa starts, “i figured you would be an entirely different person by now” he shrugs. you bit your lip, not knowing how to respond. “you’re still the same y/n i know” you hear him utter under his breath.

“that’s cause i still have unfinished business with you” you blurt out. unable to hide the truth anymore. you wanted him back more than ever and meeting him again just proves it.

akutagawa shuffles closer to you and grabs your hand. “when this fiasco is over, how about we try again?” he proposes quietly. only loud enough for you to hear. you squeezed his hand, a tiny gesture that means a thousand words and makes his heart race over and over again.

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mischiefandi · 4 years

Text

A Shitty Love Song (Part 3) - Stiles Stilinski

No Shame

A/N: hi everyone, here is part 3, im sorry i couldn’t post it yesterday. part 4 will be out next saturday! ty for reading, hope you enjoy it

Summary: Y/N is a 17 year old girl who struggles in an epic battle against herself. Whether it is amor’s icy grasp or life’s unexpected course that forces her to finally open up, only one thing is certain. The truth cannot be long hidden.

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, swearing, mentions of anxiety and panic attacks (if this triggers you in any way, please be careful)

Word Count: 5k

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader (Y/N)

Series Masterlist

(picture is not mine -> credits to @ sanjeevgrover on unsplash)

“I need you. I need you.”

Stiles’ cries had not escaped Y/N’s mind in the past two and a half weeks. On a loop, they played back, the words looming behind every action, every conversation, every thought. Never before had she heard pleas quite like the ones stuck in her head. It had been a real shock seeing her friend in such a state of panic and terror. Being Stiles’ friend, you couldn’t help but notice his anxious quirks and habits, but he had never lost control like that. At least, never in front of other people.

So as the weeks rolled into winter exams, Y/N found herself struggling to stay focused on her studies, her mind often wandering off in unwanted directions. She thought of Stiles, and of his distress, and she thought of those troubling words that still lingered in her mind. But most of all, she thought about how she still had no idea what happened. She had asked, multiple times, but Stiles had shut her down, providing fleeting excuses that she just wasn’t gullible enough to believe.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed.” She had thought to herself. And perhaps this was true. But if that was the case, did it mean he didn’t trust her? Was he uncomfortable around her? Did he regret showing that side of him and if so, what did that say about their friendship? As always, Y/N’s mind overflowed with questions and hypotheses, and there was nothing she could do about it.

As the moonlight shone through her bedroom window, Y/N stood from her chair, her fingers furiously drumming against her chin as she focused, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, uh…New York…” she recited, another overwhelming wave of stress hitting her for the third time that evening.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back in frustration.

She was nervous. Tomorrow was the last day of exams, and she couldn’t mess it up. She generally had good grades in History, but the past few weeks had been exhausting and she truly was reaching her breaking point, making it more and more difficult to study even the simplest dates and events.

Y/N walked over to her art corner, her gleaming eyes glazing over the patterns of black and grey carefully applied to the canvas of her latest painting. She sighed, burying her face in her hands.

This abstract piece had been started at the beginning of winter exams, but she still hadn’t finished it. It wasn’t really that she didn’t have the time, it was something else. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something was stopping her from completing the painting.

Whenever she stood in front of the canvas, unsure hands hovering above her color palette, her fingers retracted. It was a frustrating predicament, constantly coming back to the same issue and not knowing how to get out of it.

Y/N was so tired with it all. She was tired of the studying and the overwhelming waves of anxiety, and she was tired of not hearing from Stiles. She was tired of not finding a way out of her artistic rut and she was goddamn tired of feeling trapped.

Without warning, her eyes filled with water and for a split second, time stood still, before the tears overflowed, chaos crashing into her. Her breathing accelerated and she bit down on the inside of her mouth, pain erupting through her cheek.

“No, no, come on. Stop it,” she whimpered, the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

She had reached her breaking point. Slowly, she lowered herself down onto the floor, her back pressed against the foot of her bed. Her toes curled as she gripped the carpet beneath her, the soft fabric a small comfort. Y/N shut her eyes and winced, chaos burning inside of her stomach, and she forced herself to raise her finger up to her nostril, pressing the tip against her humid skin.

“1…2…3…” she gasped as she shakily breathed in the cool night air seeping through her bedroom window.

“1…2…3…” She exhaled loudly but slowly, forcing every last drop of air out of her lungs then back in as she started anew.

Slowly but surely, she felt her muscles start to relax, her weary toes uncurling. The chaos had thankfully subsided.

“This one barely even lasted a few minutes.” Y/N thought to herself, resting her head against her bed. She soothingly wrapped her arms around herself and continued to breathe, the exaggerated inhalations helping tremendously.

A few minutes of silence had passed when suddenly, the familiar buzzing of her phone made Y/N’s quiet bubble pop. Grimly, she made her way over to her phone sitting on the wooden surface of her desk and her red-rimmed eyes glazed over Allison’s name flashing through the bright screen. She answered instantaneously.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Y/N! How horrible is studying going?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp laugh.

“Decently horrible. How’s it going for you?”

“Well…it could be going better,” Allison chuckled, her warm voice lighting up the room.

“We’re just so tired! Who the hell came up with the idea of making us sit through two whole weeks of exams?” huffed Y/N.

“It’s not that bad. I don’t know about you but my dad’s been acting like my butler.”

“Wow, well, if your new butler wants to start working for me as well, I don’t mind,” Y/N teased, Allison’s laugh echoing through her phone.

“So hey, I was talking with Isaac earlier today and we were thinking, why not hang out by the Hale House tomorrow after exams are done. We could have a bonfire and just celebrate the end of the trimester?”

“Oh my god, that sounds so fun,” Y/N gasped, her heart doing a backflip inside of her chest. She needed to see her friends.

“Yeah! I’ve missed our hangouts,” said Allison.

“I know, I have too. Hanging out and just chilling with everyone by a fire sounds perfect.”

“God knows we deserve a break.”

“What time were you and Isaac thinking?”

“I’m not sure, maybe around 7?”

“Yeah, no problem. What do you need me to bring?” asked Y/N, one hand resting on her hip.

“Um, maybe just a couple of blankets, I’ll text you if I think of anything else. Lydia’s bringing some drinks and the boys are handling food.”

“Okay, great. I can’t wait.”

“Me neither. Good luck with History tomorrow!” Allison exclaimed.

“You too. Goodnight, Ali,” replied Y/N before terminating the phone call.

She slumped into her desk chair and sighed slowly before straightening her back and passing a shaky hand through her hair. She was going to study and nail this exam. And then, she was going to have a blast at the bonfire.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

The excruciatingly demanding day had come to an end and Y/N felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her weary shoulders as she inhaled the cool evening air. The sun had gone down, all that was left was her shadow, following closely behind as she rode to the woods. Her History exam had gone really well considering how difficult it had been to study its content. Exams were over and done with, and the highly anticipated winter holidays were finally here, much to Y/N’s relief. Everyone needed this well-deserved break.

Y/N turned a sharp right onto the gravel trail leading up to the core of the forest, her heart beating with excitement. The chilly air whipped her face as she rode faster, her bike disappearing in a blur of dark trees and thick bushes as she inched closer and closer to the Hale House. Briefly tilting her head up, Y/N’s eyes caught a glimpse of a shooting star zooming through the night sky and disappearing into its dark backdrop in a flash.

After what seemed like an eternal bike ride later, she could finally hear the sounds of laughter and happy chatter echoing around her, and she grinned, entering the large clearing and jumping off of her seat. Her bike crashed onto the ground as she leapt in Lydia’s arms, breathing in the smell of fresh strawberries in their warm embrace.

“Finally! I was starting to think you’d never get here,” exclaimed the redhead. “You don’t pack lightly,” she added, gesturing at the large duffel bag hanging from Y/N’s shoulder.

“Yeah, Ali asked me to bring blankets,” Y/N replied, chuckling.

“Hmm, well our Mom thinks of everything,” joked Lydia.

“What did you just call me?” inquired a soft voice, and Y/N turned, her eyes falling onto Allison’s smirk.

“Oh come on, you know it’s true. You’re basically our mom.”

Allison giggled and put her arms around her friends’ shoulders, leading the pair towards the bonfire a few feet away.

“Well, I gladly accept the title,” she said, her voice light as the sun.

As Y/N got close to the fire, warmth fanned over the few inches of her skin not covered by her clothes.

“Y/N, you’re here!” said Scott, smiling widely, his eyes gleaming through the thick flames of the bonfire.

“Let’s get this party started,” Isaac whooped, his hand reaching for a can of cheap beer, knocking it back in mere seconds.

Y/N grinned at the group. Kira was seated between Scott’s legs, a bottle of coke in her grasp. Isaac pulled Allison down next to him, planting a sweet kiss on her cheek. Y/N’s kind eyes finally settled on Stiles. He was sitting next to Scott, his back pressed against a log, legs spread freely in front of the fire. Their eyes met and he smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection. She calmly sat herself down between Lydia and him, and conversation soon lit up the clearing, the group’s voices bright and excited.

“Can you believe it’s already winter break?”

“Seriously, I feel like we should still be in October,” replied Y/N as she handed Lydia some blankets to pass around.

“How did your exams go?” asked Scott, his eyes flicking from one person to another.

“Decently,” shrugged Isaac, Stiles scoffing at his words.

“You called me up at 2 in the morning asking me if it was true our next exam was Geography and not Econ,” he mocked and Allison laughed out loud, her head thrown back.

“I see I’m not the only one he wakes up in the middle of the night,” she teased, resting her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder, their fingers intertwining.

“Okay, there were some organizational issues, but we fixed them and agreed not to mention them. Ever again,” he replied, shooting a deadly glare at Stiles.

“How do you feel about your exams, Scott?” asked Y/N, swiftly moving the focus away from the guilty blabbermouth seated next to her.

Scott nodded, his bottom lip tucked back in his mouth.

“Honestly, I think I did pretty well. Biology went much better than I thought it would so that’s great. Thank you again, Lyds, you saved me,” he added, sending a grateful look at the redhead who smiled in response.

“You did the work, Scott. It was all you,” she replied.

“I’m actually pretty sure I flunked Biology but the rest was fine,” Allison said. “How did History go, Y/N?”

Y/N grinned widely before bowing before the bonfire, Lydia scoffing at the gesture.

“Yours truly is officially the queen of History.”

“Hey, congrats! Who’s your History teacher?” Kira asked.

“Uh, Mr Hebowitz. You’re lucky you don’t have him, he friggin sucks.”

“Well, I’d take him over my dad any day. Seriously, if I have to hear one more embarrassing childhood story brought up in class, I’m gonna burst.”

“Yeah, that sounds bad,” Y/N winced.

“I gotta say it’s pretty entertaining though. I didn’t know you were so big on martial arts,” said Stiles.

“Yeah, I read this book about a femme fatale superhero with a katana and I just thought that was so cool. So I begged my parents to let me take martial arts lessons and I loved it!”

“Woah, that’s so awesome. So you’re basically a super ninja?” Isaac inquired, his expression serious and unphased.

Lydia laughed, her head shaking repeatedly.

“More like a samouraï but close enough,” she said.

“Yeah, sorry. And before you ask, no- I don’t know the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” teased Kira.

“Isaac isn’t really familiar with anything so cultural, isn’t that right, Isaac?” Stiles piled on, grinning sarcastically.

“Isn’t that right, Isaac,” the sandy-haired boy childishly mimicked, “Shut up, Bilinski.”

“I will have you know, I am proud of that name. It got me on the lacrosse field.”

“And which of your numerous exploits can you recall from said lacrosse field?” said Y/N, intently watching his face with an amused expression etched on hers.

Stiles met her gaze for a split second, lips pursed, then shot back to Isaac.

“The point is lacrosse is great,” he cried out.

Laughter erupted in the clearing as the fire crackled, smoke rising up into the frigid night air. The group passed along bottles and cans of beer, discussing the previous weeks with excitement. It had finally sunk in that the holidays were here.

“Okay, as much as I love reliving our painful school experiences, I propose we play a drinking game instead,” suggested Isaac, mischief painted across his face, his eyes glinting brightly.

“I’m down, it’s been a while!”

“Let’s do this,” Y/N cheered, clapping her hands together in excitement.

“Never Have I Ever?”

“Yeah, why not?” said Stiles with a nod.

“Okay, never have I ever had a girlfriend?” asked Y/N.

“Evil genius,” growled Isaac, as the boys all put a finger down. Y/N gulped at the sight of Stiles’ thumb going down, ignoring the discomfort she felt as quickly as it had come.

“Never have I ever…blacked out at a party?” Isaac inquired, shooting a glance at Y/N.

“Ali!” she scolded.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d mind! I mean, everyone saw you…” the brunette replied, guilt spread across her face.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get my revenge.”

“For what it’s worth, it happens to the best of us,” Scott joked, sending Y/N a friendly smile.

“Come on, next question!”

“Okay, okay. I got this one,” said Stiles, his amber eyes contemplating the individuals seated around him through the bright flames of the bonfire. “Never have I ever…gone skinny dipping.”

Kira suddenly choked on her coke, harsh coughs escaping her throat as the group laughed, colour flooding in Scott’s cheeks. He looked down at the ground in embarrassment, his lips curled into a nervous smile.

“Wow, I did not see that coming!” exclaimed Y/N, giggling at the couple.

“Okay…next question,” Scott replied, anxious to move onto someone else’s embarrassing stories.

“No no, this is a fun topic. Any other fun places you guys have hooked up in that you want to tell us about?” insisted Isaac, grinning widely, evidently proud of his drinking game skills.

“It’s no Hale House hookup,” declared Lydia as she took a sip of her beer, her eyes widening in shock when Allison sent her an aggravated look, shaking her head repeatedly.

“What now?”

“You did it in the Hale House?” Y/N shrieked.

“Isaac, I had no idea you were such a freak in the sheets,” Stiles mocked, his mischievous grin sending the group into a fit of laughter.

“I can’t believe you just said that, Lyds.”

“Well to be fair, you did expose Y/N.”

“Yeah see, Ali, karmically, it evens out.”

“Fine, I forgive you.”

“I still can’t believe you two hooked up in those ruins. Weren’t you afraid of- I don’t know…dying?” asked Stiles.

“We all do crazy things when we’re in the moment.”

“Okay, but come on, creepy house sex?”

“Guys, leave them alone,” Kira said, giggling at the sight of Allison’s reddening cheeks.

“I don’t know, I’m finding this pretty entertaining,” Y/N happily replied, beaming as she watched her friend squirm.

“Oh yeah? Well what about you Y/N? Anything you want to tell us?” asked Isaac, grinning slyly from ear to ear.

Y/N’s heart stopped mid-beat, a knot tying in her stomach as everyone’s eyes turned to her. Suddenly the air around her seemed cooler than before, and she couldn’t help but feel trapped under her friends’ curious gazes, waiting for her to answer the not-so innocent question.

“I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said timidly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“So, you didn’t hook up with someone at Danny’s party?”

“What?” exclaimed Scott, almost spitting out his drink. “At the rave?”

“Ali, what the hell?” Y/N hissed, her brows furrowed in confusion and disappointment.

“I didn’t say anything! Honestly. How did you know that?” the brunette demanded, turning her head in Isaac’s direction.

“I saw the hickeys at school on Monday, so I assumed. Was I wrong?” the boy replied, sending Y/N a look.

“It wasn’t a hook up! And anyway, it didn’t mean anything. It was just some random guy and I was drunk. End of story,” Y/N gruffly declared before downing the rest of her beer with a noisy gulp.

She sent Stiles a glance, hoping to see some kind of reaction. Whether he seemed shocked or embarrassed, it didn’t actually matter. All she wanted was something, anything to finally piece together that eventful but blurry Halloween and leave it be. Only, her heart sank when her eyes rested on an impassive face, Stiles’ expression utterly unreadable, blank as a white sheet of paper. Either it truly had not been him, or he didn’t care, and for some unknown reason, both possibilities were painful to think about.

“Still, it’s pretty adventurous, especially coming from you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, it was your first kiss wasn’t it?” Lydia inquired gently.

Y/N eyes glazed over the curious faces watching her closely, and she felt her throat close, the air suddenly thick and difficult to breathe in. She looked down at the frozen ground beneath her as she clutched the blanket wrapped around her body, and she spoke again, her voice timid and unstable.

“I guess so. But, like I said, it’s really not that big a deal.”

A few seconds of silence passed before Allison finally broke the uncomfortable void, clapping her hands together, snapping everyone out of their daze.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!”

Y/N sent her a grateful glance and smiled widely, the emptiness in her stomach swiftly grabbing her attention.

“Yes! Let’s eat.”

The group laughed and talked, their voices echoing throughout the clearing in the night, their shadows dancing playfully in the deep hues of orange and red emitted from the flames before them. Chocolate marks leftover from smores were licked off of fingers and light beer and coke was swallowed effortlessly. Soon the evening quieted down and groups formed, peaceful conversations spoken in soft voices overlapping and mixing with the warm crackles of the fire, alive and breathing.

Y/N laughed with Lydia as she sipped on her drink, her eyes occasionally crossing Stiles’ gaze. He seemed tired but still he grinned at Scott, their chuckles as warm as the bonfire. Slowly, she shifted closer to him, her fingers turning blue from the cold hidden away in the front pocket of her big hoodie. The boy smiled softly at her before letting his eyes revert back to the ground, his hands fidgeting with a twig. She watched his movements in silence as she thought about what to say.

Scott had his back turned to Stiles now, whispering sweet nothings in Kira’s ears, making her giggle sweetly whilst Isaac, Allison, and Lydia talked about past parties and marvelous memories. For a moment, it seemed like the only people there were Stiles and herself, comfortably sitting next to each other without speaking, yet at peace.

Finally, she spoke.

“We don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to,” she began, her eyes gazing deep into the flames before her. “But I want you to know I would never judge you for something like that. I don’t- I don’t know what you think went through my head back there but, it was nothing…bad.”

Her words were met with silence and she bit her lip, wondering if he was ever going to answer.

He wasn’t.

She nodded to herself and took a deep breath, the combined scent of earthy woods and fire filling her nostrils.

“I don’t judge you because I have them too,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly.

She saw him turn to her out of the corner of her eye, but refused to meet his gaze, keeping her own cautiously fixated on the bonfire.

“My family moves around a lot, so…meeting new people, having to start fresh in new schools all the time, it was just really hard. I’d get very anxious and I started having panic attacks. They’d happen in class, at home, in bed, anywhere really. I tried to hide them from my parents but eventually my teacher called my dad one day and told him I’d been skipping class- which I wasn’t. It was just that every time I’d get to school, my heart would start beating so fast and I’d have trouble breathing so I’d hide out in the girl’s bathroom and wait ‘till it calmed down.”

Y/N kept talking, feeling the weight she had carried for so long slowly lift itself from her weary shoulders, relief spreading across her body.

“So…my parents confronted me and I told them about it all, the panic attacks and how anxious I felt, and the missed classes. All of it. It was a good thing cause they knew, so I didn’t have to hide it anymore, but- they didn’t know how to help and eventually the panic attacks got worse. We moved to another town for my mom’s job and that’s when it got really bad. I wasn’t able to sleep or eat, I felt numb and tired and I didn’t even know why.

“I was just constantly struggling and it felt like I was never gonna feel normal ever again. And then…we moved to Beacon Hills and I met you guys, and I don’t know why it was so different but I don’t feel as anxious when I’m with you. I feel good. And I haven’t felt that way in a long time,” she finally said, her heart beating at a hundred miles an hour.

For the first time in her life, she had willingly told a friend about that darker side of her, the one she was so ashamed of, the one she had always taught herself to hide away from anyone else. It was terrifying beyond belief, but it was so alleviating.

Again, Y/N waited patiently for a response, for anything but the cold silence she had gotten used to expecting from him. And finally, after what seemed like a terrifying eternity, it came.

“My mom died from something called frontotemporal dementia when I was 9. It’s a brain disease that has no cure,” Stiles muttered, his hands still fidgeting with the twig, his long fingers shaking slightly, though Y/N couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or something else.

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I don’t really talk about it, not even with Scott. Everyone knows about it, I just- yeah.”

Y/N finally met his gaze, sending him a gentle smile of encouragement and his amber eyes bore into hers, as if searching for something in her beautiful irises.

“As a kid, I’d get really bad nightmares because of it. Night terrors, stuff like that. And then I started getting panic attacks too. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was a mess and when I finally did sleep, it was more of the same,” he continued, his voice wavering with emotion as he tried to keep his cool.

“That’s intense.”

“Yeah,” he laughed dryly, “intense is one way to describe it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

“Probably for the same reason as you,” he replied with a lopsided smile.

“Touché.” Y/N chuckled softly and Stiles did too.

He then paused, looking down at his dirty sneakers covered In dirt and dark ash.

“It’s not something I’m proud of- and on some level, I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

Y/N frowned, her brows furrowing deeply as she pursed her lips, perplexed.

“Why though?”

Stiles looked up at her, his expression serious and unphased, his gaze so intense the world around her faded with his answer.

“I didn’t want you to think that I’m weak,” he said in earnest, his voice steady with candor.

Y/N’s heart tore a little, his words revealing yet another part of him she hadn’t seen before. He was insecure. And she had had no idea.

You think you know someone, but you won’t truly know that person until they bring down their walls and reveal themselves fully to you. This is precisely why amor works so steadily, slowly creeping up your body and wrapping itself around you, inch by inch. It grows with every facet you uncover, it matures with every conversation, every laugh, every secret. Amor isn’t sudden and superficial. It is the most tantalizing and intrusive thing that will ever enter your life, and it will hijack your entire system, turning you into a slave unaware of his or her condition.

Right then, amor grew a little more.

“Stiles, I could never think that. Hey,” she said, placing her hand on his knee, the boy’s world magically shattering at the sudden and unpredictable gesture.

“You are strong and you’re resilient and I will never judge you- because I care about you,” Y/N declared steadily, her eyes piercing through his. He watched her closely, as though he was trying to catch her in a lie, but she wasn’t lying. She meant every word and this fact sent him into a whirlwind of emotions that he couldn’t even begin to describe, not even if he tried.

“I care about you,” he replied earnestly, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Obviously,” Y/N teased, removing her hand from her friend’s knee and curling it into a ball before shoving it back under her blanket, the cold air meeting her skin in a harsh embrace.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let that get to your head.”

“Pshh.”

Finally, late in the night, the pack members got up and packed their things, shoving the blankets and rubbish back in their bags before throwing water onto the firepit they had created for themselves. The group slowly walked out of the clearing, following the path back towards the road, chatter still illuminating the late night air. Scott and Isaac playfully howled together in unison, walking ahead of the group, as Kira, Lydia, and Allison followed, discussing the evening and the beautiful memories they had created together.

Behind them strolled Stiles, with his hands in his pocket, and Y/N, slowly walking alongside her bicycle, the pair chatting peacefully as the night came to an end.

“Hey, before we go home, I just want to say this,” Stiles said, stopping in his tracks, turning around to face Y/N. She looked at him curiously, wondering what was so urgent for him to tell her.

“I’m all ears,” she replied, grinning at him.

“I didn’t say it before, and I should’ve. Thank you for helping me that day. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you sooner, and I’m sorry I didn’t reach out.”

“Sti, you don’t have to apo-“

“-But I do. You didn’t deserve it,” he said decisively, cutting her off.

Y/N’s eyes bore into his, the grin etched on her lips turning into a tender smile.

“I appreciate you saying that. But Stiles, I meant what I said. I will always be looking out for you. So, if it happens again, or if you ever need to talk, please, remember that I’m here,” she insisted.

Stiles’ expression softened at her words.

“I know you have those moments too, and I want you to know- I…”

“Yeah?”

“I-“

“-Guys! You coming or what?” Their friends’ loud voices knocked both Y/N and Stiles out of the moment, the pair snapping their heads towards the pack already many feet away.

“We should probably catch up with them,” Y/N said, slightly disappointed Stiles hadn’t been able to finish his sentence, her mind racing with intrusive thoughts she desperately tried to ignore as he nodded at her, his lips pursing.

At the end of the path, when they had finally found the road, the friends exchanged tight hugs and last goodbyes, their smiles wide and their hearts swollen with affection. The evening had been wonderful, and the memories they had created would never leave their minds, too exciting and remarkable to ever be put to rest.

Stiles walked over to Y/N and wrapped his long arms around her, his nose breathing in her peach-scented shampoo as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Y/N felt his heart thunder against her chest and for a split second, time stopped again. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body and the smell of leather mixed with firewood, inhaling deeply against him. Eventually, they left each other’s embrace with a soft smile and the group parted ways, each member heading home in the cool winter air.

As Y/N was about to start riding, she felt her pocket vibrate against her stomach, her hand reaching for her phone instantaneously. Her eyes focused on the bright blue light of her phone screen and she felt her heart leap in her chest at the sight of the captivating words she had just received.

Stiles: what I was gonna say was

Stiles: I will always be there for you

Stiles: get home safe

She smiled widely, colour flooding her cheeks as she reread the texts, her mind unable to focus on anything other than Stiles. Amor had won again.

A/N: i worked very hard on this series, so if you enjoyed reading it, please reblog it, even if you dont have a large following, it would really help me out a lot <3 thank you for reading ! love u guys

if you would like to be added to this series’ taglist, please send me an ask :)

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#stiles stilinski #Stiles Stilinski fanfiction #Stiles Stilinski x reader insert #Stiles Stilinski fanfic #Stiles Stilinski x reader #teen wolf #Stiles Stilinski series #teen wolf fanfiction #Dylan o'brien #v writes #a shitty love song #anxiety #anxiety trigger warning #anxiety tw #panic attack #panic attacks #panic attack trigger warning #panic attack tw

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ayanna-wild · 5 years

Text

Memories For Sale

Word Count: 1638

Pairings: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, possible trigger, reader is a prostitute in this if that bothers you or triggers you please do not read.

A/N: Request from someone on Wattpad

Summary: You did what you could to get by, trusted no one, and tried to ignore the spotty holes in your memory. But then this man shows up, and everything you thought you remembered or thought you knew was so very wrong.

............................................................

You leaned back against the stone wall behind you. The rough texture of the bricks bit at your skin, but you ignored that. You need a short break, your feet were hurting from standing on them for so long. The heels you wore only made it worse and the short dress you had slipped on did little to protect your back from the bricks. It was apparently a dead night, probably due to the storm hovering above the city. The clouds had yet to release their downpour but it probably wouldn't be long.

Unfortunately though that meant business would be slow tonight and you'd have to work even longer the next night to make up for it. You took a slow drag from the cigarette between your fingers, flicking the ash onto the pavement below you. With a heavy sigh you pushed yourself off the wall, and turned to start walking home. Well at least to that shabby apartment you called home.

"Y/N?"

You paused, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"Yeah?"

The man simply stood there staring at you with a mixture of emotions. He was an attractive man, with black hair and deep brown eyes. The suit he was wearing, what looked to be very expensive and normally you'd have tried to warm up to after seeing that. However, you were tired, you were annoyed, and you just wanted to go home.

"Don't you recognize me love?" The man asked frowning.

You turned to face him fully and slowly looked him over from head to toe before shrugging.

"Sorry, I can't be expected to remember every man I... service..."

His whole attitude changed after hearing that. He looked shocked, angry, and heartbroken? That one confused you, why did he look so distraught about that?

"Listen it's been a long and uneventful night, I'm currently off the clock, but try again tomorrow night, I'll give you a discount or something."

You tried to walk away, but he grabbed your elbow.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

His grip wasn't tight or aggressive like the other times you had been grabbed. When you tried to pull your arm free he let go immediately, another thing you weren't use to.

"Should I?"

The man smiled sadly for a moment and you felt a dull ache in your chest at seeing him sad.

"I suppose not, my name is Lucifer Morningstar, and I know you very well my dear."

You searched his eyes for a moment but saw nothing that said he was lying.

"That's nice, but I really should be getting home."

You took a cautious step back, an uneasy feeling lingered in the air.

"Wait, just let me explain."

He must have sensed your unease and became a bit desperate.

"Listen Lucifer, was it? I'm tired and it's about to storm, I'm done for the night, if you go two streets over you can find some other girls who will definitely jump at the chance to have you as a costumer."

He looked almost offended at that and scoffed.

"Do I look like I would need to pay for sex?"

You rolled your eyes and stared to walk away at a faster pace than normal.

"I'll pay you for your time!"

You walked faster.

"Five Hundred for one hour!"

You almost tripped on your heels with how fast you stopped.

"Are you serious? Just to talk?"

"I'll add another five hundred for every hour you are there."

Your common sense screamed at you that something wasn't right but your mind told you to take the pay day.

"Fine, one hour, and add six hundred for every extra half hour."

Lucifer smiled, holding out his hand to you.

"Deal."

You shook his hand, letting out a small yelp when he started pulling you in the direction of a sleek black Corvette.

The ride had been filled with silence which you suspected was not a normal thing for him. When you had reached the club he owned and made it up to his penthouse, you felt a little dumb not asking for more money.

"Would you like a drink my dear?"

You shook your head and watched him pour one for himself.

"Ok, start talking."

He chuckled as he raised the glass to his lips.

"Straight to the point as usual at least you haven't changed too much darling."

"You say that as if you know me."

"Oh I do! Very well, you are my wife after all."

You had no words, how were you even supposed to respond to that? The man was clearly insane.

"Right... well this was fun, but I think I should go, you can keep the money and-"

Lucifer stepped in front of you, preventing you from reaching the elevator.

"You don't believe me? Surely you've wondered about your past? The lapse in memories you have?"

You started walking backwards, trying to put distance between them.

"I was in an accident, I... I got amnesia!"

It sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than him.

"Is that what you were told? How did it happen?"

Your head was hurting, it was a dull ache, but it was growing.

"I was hit by car trying to cross the street..."

"Really? And you walked away with just a few scratches and missing memories? Sounds a bit too good to be true." He raised an eyebrow.

"Well I got lucky I guess."

Your back hit the piano and the ache in your head turned into a pounding.

"Luck? Oh, no darling there was nothing lucky about that Uriel took you, he made sure the accident wasn't fatal, and he made sure you wouldn't remember anything."

Everything grew blurry and you were faintly aware of Lucifer calling your name as your legs gave out. Your head was swimming, and your body felt so heavy. You couldn't make out what was being said to or even what you were saying.

Lucifer sat you on the couch, and waited patiently for you regain your senses. You slowly blinked, fingers rubbing your temple in a poor attempt to relieve the pain in your head.

"Darling are you alright?"

You pulled away from him slightly.

"Yes. I'm fine."

Lucifer stepped away, seeing the distrust in your eyes.

"Can you tell me what you remember?"

You searched your memories for anything of significance and looked back at him apprehensively.

"Ash, a lot of brimstone, there was a lot of doors, I remember you were there, but its all blurry, and none of it makes sense, it's just flashes of memories, I can't remember them." You muttered.

Lucifer smiled a little and reached out to you. He pulled his hand back when he saw you flinch away.

"Why did you do this to yourself? You are priceless to me, why would you sell yourself?"

You pulled your knees to your chest and shrugged.

"It was a last resort, I needed food, money, I didn't have anyone."

"But surely you must have had other options?"

"Most guys don't question my career choice you know." You joked weakly.

He didn't seem to find it very funny.

"Pardon my bluntness, but those men were only interested in you for sex, and unlike them I care very deeply about you."

You felt the overwhelming urge to cry, and you didn't know why. You suddenly felt so ashamed to be sitting in front of him looking like this.

"Y/N? Why are you crying?"

"It's stupid I know. I don't even know you and I just feel so ashamed to let you see me like this." You laughed, but tears were staining your cheeks.

Lucifer sat beside you pulling you into his arms.

"Oh my beautiful queen, you've nothing to feel ashamed for. I don't think any less of you and I'm not angry."

You pulled out of his arms, having a man hold you like that, comfort you, it wasn't how you were used to men treating you. Lucifer looked hurt for a moment before he cleared his throat.

"Why don't you take a shower, you can stay the night and I'll have Maze bring you some shorts to sleep in, you can wear one of my shirts."

You nodded slowly and Lucifer directed you in the direction of the shower.

You stayed in the shower for nearly an hour, crying and hoping the steaming water would wash away the shame you were feeling. When you finally stepped out you saw clothes sitting on the sink. It was just a large t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts with some underwear. You walked back out into the living room once you were dressed.

"Do I play or is it just you?"

Lucifer looked up from where he sat at the piano. He smiled at you and moved over so you could sit beside him.

"No, you much preferred drawing to playing an instrument. And Dad knows attempting to teach you was a disaster." Lucifer chuckled.

You smiled, softly running your fingers over the keys, droplets of water fell from your hair onto your lap. Lucifer watched you for a moment.

"I'd like if you stayed with me for a while my dear. Perhaps I could help you regain your memory or at the very least give you a place to sleep. Where you wouldn't need to sell your body to strange men. More to the point, I've been trying to find you for a very long time, and I couldn't bear to lose you now."

You meant his eyes, studying him as if searching for any ill intent or alternative motive he might have. You found none and so you smiled, the first real smile you had given in such a long time.

"I'd love to stay with you Lucifer."

.........................................................................

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dylinski · 5 years

Text

The Sexapades of Stiles Stilinski

Jackson

Warnings: Mild smut, angst, cussing, oral (male receiving)

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittmore

Word Count: 2529

Author: @dylan-obrien-fanblog

A/N: Was a little hesitant to actually start this series and post anything for it. but thanks to the amazing @daisyxbuckley (who is just, the greatest) she convinced me to post it. You should definitely check out her work too. Its fantastic. (:

------

Middle school is the worst, except for kids who are popular. Stiles Stilinski wasn’t necessarily popular, but people liked him and he had a lot of friends. His best friends were Scott and Jackson, but that was until Jackson’s parents told him he was adopted. When they came back from summer break in 7th grade he was a different person, emotionally and physically. This was the first time Stiles had noticed another boys appearance. He never thought about liking boys or girls, it was just always about Lydia. He didn’t feel the way he did for her about anyone, but when he saw Jackson and his newfound muscles, he sure as hell made him feel something.

“Stiles! Are you even listening to me?” Scott bellowed in annoyance at his oblivious friend.

“Huh? What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Stiles responded without averting his eyes from Jackson sitting with his friends at lunch. “Obviously.” Scott rolled his eyes and carried on the conversation with Julia at the lunch table as Stiles still seemed distracted.

It was more than Jackson’s body that appealed to him, he also made him curious. With Stiles, when he couldn’t figure something out, he sure as fuck researched and detected the shit out of it until he did. He was going to figure out why this boy suddenly ditched him and Scott, put up walls and basically became an asshole.

------

Stiles was pretty athletic himself, but usually lagged behind so that Scott wouldn’t feel so bad because of his asthma. Thankfully, today wasn’t too strenuous so they wouldn’t fall behind with the rest of the class.

“Today we’re playing dodgeball,” Mr. Richards announced to the class of youngsters. A mixture of cheering and booing filled the gym. “Team Captains are Jackson and Samantha. Pick your teams.”

Stiles had the biggest smile on his face since he absolutely loved dodgeball. It was the only time being skinny and fast came in handy, plus the bonus of being able to chuck rubber balls at people for the hell of it. Scott felt differently since he was slow. “Don’t worry bud, I got you. Think of me as your guardian angel.”

“How are you going to guard me? Your a stick.” Scott gestured to the boy standing in front of him.

“Stiles curled in his lips and squinted at his friend, “Yes, I’m aware of that. That makes it harder for them to hit me.”

“Yeah. And easier for them to hit me.”

“Scott, for once in your life, could you stop complaining and try to be at least semi-optimistic?”

While arguing, they had hardly noticed that everyone had been divided up into teams already.

“Do I really have to take the losers?” Jackson whined as he pointed to the duo.

“This is your fault, you know? Nerd by association. Dragging me down to your nerd depths.” Stiles rambled on as they added themselves to the crowd of kids designated the green team.

Each group spread themselves out on either side of the gym with a line of balls separating them. Stiles lingered around Scott in case he needed him at a moments notice. The teacher blew the whistle and everyone dived for the rubber spheres. Stiles was able to get one and spastically threw it at no particular person in the direction of the other team. He must have hit someone because he soon heard a whine afterwards.

Doing his own little dance to himself, he heard an all too familiar yelp from behind him. Scott was on the ground and had obviously been knocked out. He rushed over to his friend and helped him up. “At least you don’t have to worry about playing now.” Scott glared at the boy and stomped off to the sidelines that were filling up fast.

Soon there were a handful of players left on either team. Stiles, Jackson, and another girl were on the green team and Samantha with Julia and Marcus were on the blue team. Everyone had a ball and they were in the middle of a standoff. If one ball was thrown, the rest would fly soon after in a mess of plastic.

Julia was the first to toss her ball and it hit the other girl on their team. Stiles threw his just as Jackson happened to step in front of him. Almost immediately, he whirled around to the lanky kid with a look he had never seen on his old friend before. He took the dodgeball in his own grip and hurled it at Stiles, hitting him directly in the face, echoing a “plunk”. Everyone winced at the sight as it knocked him to the ground.

“BLUE TEAM WINS.” The teacher broke the silence of children beholding the pain that befell Stiles.

The teacher had taken Stiles to the nurse to make sure his nose wasn’t broken and then she gave him a bag of ice for his face. He returned to the now empty locker rooms to change out of his gym clothes. He groaned as he removed the ice, a bruise now forming around his right eye. He opened his locker but it was immediately shut by a fuming Jackson before he could retrieve his clothes.

“What the hell was that?”

“What the hell was that? What the hell was this?” Stiles motioned his long fingers to his now swollen eye.

Jackson grabbed the boy and threw him against the locker, caging him with his arms. “That was you getting exactly what you deserved.” Jackson practically spat in his face.

“I think you're slightly overestimating the severity of the situation.” Stiles winced as Jackson growled at his retort, obviously unhappy with the sarcasm. “Look man. I just threw the ball and you stepped in front of it. Okay? I wasn’t trying to hit you.” Stiles could feel Jackson’s breath on his face as he assumed the muscular boy was contemplating whether to believe him or not.

Jackson must have taken him for his word since he took a step back, allowing Stiles to ease off the wall of lockers. Jackson left, a look of anger still lingering on his face. Stiles sighed with relief that he didn’t have to go home to his father with two black eyes. He turned to his locker, opening it for a second time and pulled out his school clothes. Thinking he was alone, he began to strip his clothes off.

Jackson hid in the shadows, watching the tall kid as he began to remove his clothes. He wasn’t trying to be a peeping tom, but his anger got the best of him. He was waiting around, still not entirely sure if he was going to beat the shit out of the little bitch or not. Before he realized it, the kid was completely naked in front of his eyes. He found himself scraping over the boys body, covered in moles just like his face. While the boy was tall and skinny, he hid muscle under his clothes.

He hadn’t talked to him in over a year, so all he could do was assume the kid had joined a sports team outside of school or was active in some sort of way. His rage subsided and embarrassment filled his cheeks as he realized he was staring at a naked Stiles. He ran off from the boy’s locker room before he saw much else aside from his backside.

------

Two weeks passed after the dodgeball incident and Stiles was more intrigued than ever since Jackson had been avoiding him. He would bully Stiles constantly and he was half expecting for the abuse to be worse since he accidentally hit him with the dodgeball, but nothing.

Stiles was able to find out that something did happen last year around the time that Jackson stopped talking to him which must have been the trigger. No one knew what happened and supposedly Jackson would freak out anytime someone tried to talk to him about it. Stiles being Stiles was going to ask anyways, he just needed to wait for the right moment.

Apparently that moment came when Jackson had been excused to use the restroom. Stiles raised his hand with excitement and the teacher rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Stilinski. What is it now?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Mr. Whittmore just left, you’ll have to wait your turn.” The teacher turned to continue the lecture, assuming the conversation was done.

“But I reeeeeeeeeally need to go.” Stiles persisted. Turning back to the spastic child with annoyance, the teacher stared him down. “If I have to wait, I think I might have to take a dump here.” Stiles added strain to his voice, as if he was struggling to hold it all in. He jumped up and clench his butt cheeks and then proceeded to grab his ass as if everything was going to fall out.

The teacher was furious and tired of the child's antics. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” He mumbled under his breath as he motioned for the over active child to leave. Stiles then proceeded to waddle out of the room while holding his ass, keeping up the illusion that no one was believing.

As soon as he entered the hall, he shifted into a hustle to meet Jackson in the bathroom. He entered the restroom but found silence. He peeked into each stall and found the last one to be locked. He ducked his head down and saw someone sitting on the floor in the stall. “Jackson? Is that you?”

The person behind the door sniffed as if they had been crying which was then followed by shuffling as they stood up. Jackson opened the door with a hard look on his face, “What do you want asshat?”

Realizing that Jackson had been upset, Stiles changed his demeanor from curiosity to sincerity. “I wanted to see if you were okay.” While he had not originally known the state of his classmate, the statement was still true.

“I’m fine.” Jackson shot back, pushing past Stiles as he stood in the doorframe of the stalls.

“Well you don’t seem f--” Stiles was cut off Jackson pushed him back into the stall door.

“I SAID IM FINE.”

“Well this seems to be a habit,” Stiles scoffed more to himself than Jackson for the position he found himself in. His comment only infuriated Jackson more. Stiles face wasn’t fearful like it had been before. This time he showed sympathy and concern as he could see the pain in Jackson’s eyes.

Jackson felt vulnerable and naked by the way the mole speckled boy was looking at him, reminding him of the way Stiles would have probably felt had he known Jackson was watching him when he changed. He furrowed his brow in thought, springing a look of confusion on Stiles’ face. Before either of them realized what was happening, Jackson had slammed his lips down onto Stiles’. With his eyes wide open and filled with shock, he pushed the sad boy from his lips.

“Jackson, what the fuck are you doing?”

Jackson’s eyes and face fell in sadness, but as he looked back up to Stiles, his eyes were filled with lust. “Shut up you little shit.” He went back in to kiss him again.

Still riddled with confusion, Stiles found himself dumbfounded and trying to process what was happening as he kissed Jackson back. Jackson began to sink to his knees as he looked up at the skinny boy through his lashes. “Wha….what are you doi...AH.” Stiles fumbled his words as Jackson popped the button on his pants and pulled out his slightly erect penis. He looked down at the boy and discovered he liked seeing his cock stroked by him.

Stiles threw his head back at the feeling of fingers other than his own around his cock. A new sensation riddled his body, causing him to fling his arms out for balance as Jackson took him in his mouth. His mouth hung agape as he could feel the pressure build up inside him. The way Jackson moved his tongue in circles around his head, then taking him fully in while stroking the shaft that couldn’t fit. Jackson reached up, touching his stomach under his shirt and slid his hand around to his back. He pulled him into his mouth as deep as he could and Stiles grabbed the back of his head, lacing his fingers in his hair. Feeling himself hit the back of his throat was all he needed to meet his release.

The pressure left him and flowed into Jackson’s mouth in spurts. Jackson took all of his cum in his mouth and swallowed. He stood up and went to the sink, washing his mouth out and leaving Stiles standing there with his limp cock out and pants around his ankles. Still not entirely sure what just happened, he threw his pants on and found himself for the first time in his life, speechless.

“What the fuck was that?” He finally managed to scrape together after he came down from his high. Jackson turned around, looking angrier than he had ever seen him. “What’s with the face?”

Suddenly his face turned from anger to sadness, the same sadness that had shown when Stiles found him. “Today is a year.” Unaware he could become more confused than he already was, Stiles proved himself wrong.

“I can’t read your mind. You have to elaborate.” Stiles gestured upwards, speaking with his hands as he always does.

“A year ago today, my parents….” Stiles brows furrowed with concern as he could see Jackson struggling to say the words. “They told me I was adopted.” Stiles eyes grew so wide that he thought they might pop out. “I was already struggling with who I was as a person, but now I have absolutely no idea who I am. They won’t tell me anything about them or why they gave me up. They said they want to wait until I’m older.” Stiles began to approach his friend, but he jerked away before he could rest a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, Jackson’s look changed again. He glared at Stiles with a hard stare. “If you tell anyone...about any of this, I will kill you.” Jackson then stormed out of the bathroom.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.” Stiles spoke sarcastically to himself as he now found himself alone. He looked into the mirror as he lost himself in his thoughts, trying to decipher what just happened as well as process the new information. He wanted to be there for his friend, but being pushed away was making it really hard. Being the relentless tidal wave of ambition that he was, he’d be damned if he’d let that stop him. You never give up on someone, especially someone who is hurting. Stiles knew that hurt all too well. He had lost his mom a couple years ago, but Jackson lost both of his and he never even knew them. He was going to research the shit out of this new mystery and maybe bring some peace and identity to Jackson.

#jackson whittemore #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #the sexapades of stiles stilinski #stackson

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marvelmando · 5 years

Text

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - eight

notes: ((posting my favorite chapter in honor of spider-man returning to the mcu!!!))

this chapter has been in my head for... like, years. i literally created tempest around the scene with marin and peter, and im so proud that i’ve managed to write almost all of it. this is probably one of my favorite chapters, just because i’ve had it in mind for so long, and you finally get a glimpse into how marin’s powers were exposed.

that being said, this chapter has a very in-depth discussion of a murder-suicide, and domestic abuse, so please please don’t read the following scenes if you’re easily grossed out or triggered.

“but it’s the bad parts i remember the most... and it became her undoing.”

“as my mother tried to soothe him... it took a moment to compose herself.”

if you need a general summary of marin’s background, please read the end notes of the chapter!

****contains: mentions of a murder-suicide, descriptions of domestic abuse, mental illness

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 5k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

MARIN DIDN'T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. Between the memories that haunted her, and thoughts of a certain boy that kept her mind spinning, Marin couldn't shut her eyes for more than a couple minutes at a time without either gasping or breaking out in a cold sweat.

She laid in her bed until the sun peeked through her curtains, and well beyond that. She probably should have done something more constructive with her time, like train or read a book or something, but her limbs felt like they were weighted down with bricks. She couldn't muster up the energy to sit up in bed, let alone try using her powers or concentrate on anything other than breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

Like she did every year on that day, she mourned her parents silently. But this year was different only because thinking about her parents, meant thinking about Peter. He currently hated her because he thought she had killed them. And thinking about Peter made her heart sink and her head pound.

But then the pounding wasn't coming from her head anymore—it was coming from her bedroom door.

Marin didn't respond, but Lucy didn't care, because she entered her room anyway. "Marin, you've got to get up."

Marin just buried her face into her pillow.

"Marin," Lucy pushed, grabbing Marin's comforter and yanking it off of her. "C'mon, this isn't healthy."

"Don't care," Marin muttered into her pillow.

"Well, I do. So get up, you're gonna go train your new powers."

Marin lifted her head up at that. "You know about that?"

"Yeah, Professor Xavier told James and I. But don't change the subject—Jean and Storm are waiting for you downstairs in the simulation room." Lucy pulled at her arm now, but Marin obliged into a sitting position. She noticed James lingering in the doorway.

"All right, give me time to shower, at least?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes. "Ten minutes, Frost—I don't want any dilly-dallying in there, because I know you would if I let you."

"Fine." Marin rolled her eyes. "Be ready in fifteen."

+++

It was more like twenty, but Lucy should've only been glad that it wasn't at least thirty-five, like her normal showers.

Sure enough, Storm and Jean really were waiting for her, and they'd set the room up with plenty of rubber mats. Marin eyed the otherwise-empty room warily.

Jean chuckled. "This is just to help you practice your control, Marin. No simulations, yet, so there's nothing to be nervous about."

"We're rooting for you, Marin," Lucy gave her a thumbs-up, and backed out of the room with James at her side.

Marin nodded, shaking the nerves buzzing in her hands. Now that she was out of bed and her mind was distracted, it was easy to put her worries to the side. She signaled that she was ready to the two older mutants.

"Okay, Marin. You've done this before, except this time, you're older—you're in control." Storm exposited. "Close your eyes. Picture the energy flowing in you, swimming in your veins, crawling through the layers of your skin. Just observe it for now—simply acknowledge its presence as a part of you."

Marin concentrated. This lesson was similar to the training she'd gone through with her hydrokinetic powers, but this time, she knew that the power was coming from inside her, which made it more difficult to locate and identify. After a moment of silence, Marin huffed. "I don't feel anything."

"That's okay, just focus, Marin." Jean spoke. "It's there, waiting for you to find it. Don't try so hard, let it come to you naturally."

"The energy fluctuates with your emotions—when you become angry, or upset, it reacts accordingly." Said Storm. "But now, you are in control. The purpose of letting it come to you when you are calm is so that you refuse to let the energy control you."

Marin nodded, relaxing her clenched fists, not remembering when she'd done so. She breathed deeply, searching her body from within.

Somewhere under her skin, she felt a nudge. After the nudge, came a push, and then a rush of emotion. I am in control, she reminded herself. Marin stroked the wave of energy rising inside her with her mind, causing it to hum pleasantly in response. The hum began to vibrate, starting at the center of her chest and radiating outward, washing tingles throughout her entire body. She felt the hair on her arms rise, and the weight of her hair resting on her shoulders lift. Her entire body felt like a single, continuous flow of energy.

Marin opened her eyes, finding the room bathed in a warm blue light. Glancing down at herself, she realized that it was her; the bright aquamarine blue light surrounded her, seeping through the pores of her skin—reminding her of pressing a flashlight against her finger, the light passing through her skin. Except for this light, she could feel as it ignited every nerve ending in her body—glowing from every atom within her.

She jerked when she noticed that she was also hovering a couple feet off the ground, her hair floating around her hair like she was underwater. Panicking, she flailed her arms and unintentionally shot a blast of energy into the wall, blowing a sizeable dent into the cement.

Marin fell, losing her balance and landing on her back. Groaning, she picked herself up. "Sorry," she said sheepishly to her mentors, who looked between each other, and Marin assumed Jean was making a comment to Storm with her telepathy powers. "Was that okay?"

Storm looked at her and smiled reassuringly. "It was great, Marin. You handled it well, especially for using it for the first time in years."

"So... do you think I'm dangerous, then?" Marin grimaced.

"Not at all, Marin." Jean smiled, cupping Marin's cheeks in a motherly fashion. "You just need to train, to practice your control, that's all."

"Okay," Marin nodded, stepping back, and bracing herself. "Let's train, then."

+++

It had taken Marin three years to learn how to freeze and boil water instantaneously, and six years to learn how to heal others with water. But by the time the sun had set that day, Marin had managed to control her powers enough to manipulate the energy around her to fly.

Shooting beams of energy was still tricky and not entirely accurate, but at least she was no longer shooting off blasts by accident. She could summon the energy within seconds instead of minutes, and she was getting the hang of releasing her powers without falling down (even if she landed wobbly nearly every time). By bedtime, she was floating around the mansion with relative ease—the stress of the day's memories never passing her mind when she glided throughout the halls.

"Marin, please get down from the ceiling," Charles called up to her from his wheelchair, his neck craning to address the mutant walking upside down on the ceiling.

"All right," Marin sighed, descending and releasing the energy, her skin returning to its normal, freckled beige.

"Please get some rest tonight, okay?"

Marin smiled. "I will, Professor."

And she had planned on keeping her word, she really did try. But the second she crawled into bed, Marin was restless with the onslaught of unwelcome thoughts. She'd managed to go the entire day without dwelling on her parents' deaths or let herself be consumed by worries about Peter. But now, with her body finally still and her mind no longer distracted, she couldn't help but torture herself with the impulsive desire to show off her new powers to her friend.

Marin sighed after a few minutes of restless silence, giving up on sleep. She got up, and tiptoed to Lucy's bedroom, knocking softly on the door. It was still fairly early in the evening, but she hoped that Lucy hadn't planned on getting an early night's sleep.

Sure enough, a voice said from within, "Come in," and Marin stepped through.

"Hey," Marin whispered, even though Lucy and James were both wide awake and sitting on opposite ends of the bed, seemingly in the middle of a card game. "Can I talk to you guys for a bit?"

"Sure, what's up?" Lucy obliged, scooping the cards away to make room for Marin to sit on the bed. "Is it about the new powers?"

"Kinda." Marin exhaled softly. "It's also about... Spider-Man."

"What about him?"

"I miss him." Marin admitted. "Like, way more than I expected. As I steadily gained control over my powers today, all I wanted to do was go and show him." She wrung her hands together. "But then I remembered that he hates me for things that aren't true, and I can't stop thinking about the horrified look in his eyes when Mr. Stark told him that I killed my parents—and how I never got to explain myself, explain why I lied to him about being a mutant, and I just know that I can't live with that kind of guilt."

Lucy and James studied her as she continued her speech. "I've been alone my whole life. Everyone has always hated me or feared me for horrific actions they believed I committed, and I've lived with that isolation for the nine years I've lived here because honestly, I didn't really know anything else. But then I met him, and he showed me a kindness that I'd never experienced before. I was fine with being lonely until the night I ran away when I followed him through his life—I made unexpected friends, fought my first supervillain, and even met an Avenger. It was like I was seeing a glimpse of the life I feel like I was always meant to have. And now... now, I don't know what to do. Because I know I have to keep training to control these new powers, but I can't help but yearn for that other life. I know I should stay here and train, but my life feels like it was left behind in Queens, and my soul is being split in half."

Marin sniffled wetly as she wiped at her damp cheeks. "I need to tell him the truth. But I don't know ho, because he's there, and I'm here."

Neither of them responded, only looking between each other, probably having a conversation in their minds. Eventually, the nodded, and both looked to Marin.

"We've got an idea."

+++

"Forest Hills—are you sure?" Lucy clarified once more.

"Yes, Lucy," Marin confirmed. "Land in Forest Park like last time, I can make my way from there."

"Won't that take a while?" James asked from his co-pilot's seat.

"I can fly now, remember?"

"Oh, right."

The jet was considerably fast; they reached Forest Park just shy of ten o’clock at night. As Marin was unbuckling herself from the passenger seat, Lucy pivoted in the pilot's chair. "And you're sure you don't need us to go with you?"

Marin shook her head. "No. This is something I need to do alone."

And as Marin took to the skies, she made sure to keep away from open streets, lest someone see her vibrant blue-glowing body flying through the air.

After only a couple minutes of navigating the streets of Forest Hills, Marin located Peter's apartment complex. She floated right up to the window, knocking into it slightly with her shoulder as she came to a jerky halt. She noticed Peter jump inside his room where he was standing at his desk, and then peer suspiciously out the window.

He walked toward her, and even though she could see he wasn't pleased to see her, he still pushed up the pane of glass, sticking his head out and glaring up at her. Marin moved back a little, indicating that she wasn't going to just barge right in. "What, so you can fly now?" He snarled at her. "Is that another secret you kept from me?"

Marin sighed, and shook her head at him. "Can I come in? I need to tell you a few things."

Peter stared at her, his expression annoyed yet mildly interested—but mostly just relenting. He exhaled after a few heartbeats and looked back at his closed door. "Not in here, I don't want to wake May up. Go to the roof," Marin nodded, backing up even further so Peter could climb out of the window after her. He clung to the wall, crawling up the side of the building. It was weird to see him do it without the suit, but Marin followed him anyway.

Her landing was unstable and she would've tripped against the graveled roof, but Peter's reflexes acted faster than he could remember his disdain for her. "Thanks," she gave him a grateful look as he steadied her, but Peter yanked his hands back and averted her gaze.

He stepped around her, going to sit on the edge of the roof with his feet dangling over the side. Marin, despite vertigo rolling around in her stomach from the heights, took the spot next to him. They sat in silence for a moment.

Just as Marin opened her mouth, Peter said suddenly, "Why didn't you tell me you're a mutant?" His voice was strained. He was wearing a Midtown sweatshirt, she noticed, as he tugged the sleeves over his hands. It was a nervous tick that Marin recognized from her own habits.

"I... it's kind of a long story." Marin winced, looking him in the eyes.

"Does it have to do with... y'know, your parents?" He cringed, and Marin's stomach twisted anxiously. She was really going to do this, wasn't she?

"Yes." She admitted, eyes shifting down at her hands, which gripped her knees so tightly her knuckles were white. "I... I'm going to tell you everything, Peter. Some of what Mr. Stark said was true, but the truth... the whole truth is complicated and messy, and I've... I've never told anyone else about what happened, so please don't—don't interrupt me until I'm done, because I don't know what would happen if I stopped."

Peter nodded skeptically, and Marin lifted her head up.

"So, I'll start at the beginning, I guess." Marin took a deep breath and began.

"I was born on February third of 2001 to my parents, Jamie and Kelly Frost. My dad... he grew up in an orphanage until he was kicked out when he was eleven because they thought he had schizophrenia. But the voices in his head were real, he just didn't know that he was really a mutant—a telepath, able to hear the minds of those around him.

"They had me really young, my parents. And my dad could never keep a job for more than a couple weeks, so it was up to my mom to provide for the family. But as a teacher in the city, she didn't earn much. We were happy, though, as far as I can remember.

"Truth be told, I don't really remember much, though. I remember some of the good bits, like my parents dancing with me to the music on the radio, or how my mother used to sing lullabies to get me to sleep."

Marin's breath grew shaky as she approached the worst parts of her story.

"But it's the bad parts that I remember the most. My father didn't know he was a mutant, and after a decade of hearing voices in his head, he was growing extremely paranoid. I remember he was always talking to himself, hitting and slamming things against any surface he could find. My mom would find him in these massive fits, and sometimes things got so bad that he would throw my mother around the room, or start beating her. My mom, though, she'd just... take it. She was so kind-hearted, so loving, and she'd never defended herself. She loved my father too much to stand up to him, and it became her undoing."

Marin clenched her eyes shut, the blood in her ears drowning out the noises of the city.

"It was all building to one final explosion. It was nine years ago, as of yesterday. I was six. I'd just come home from my first day of first grade, and I remember being really happy and excited to start the new school year. But I never made it to the second day.

"My dad was in the worst fit I'd ever seen him in. He was shouting into thin air, clutching his head so hard he'd ripped out chunks of his hair. My mom was trying to help him out of it, so she sent me to my room so I didn't have to watch. Normally, I'd obey her, locking myself in my room and burying my head under a pillow to muffle the screams. But I was feeling brave, and too concerned to leave. So instead, I followed them into the bathroom, where my father was thrashing in a drawn bath, still fully clothed. He was rocking back and forth, murmuring to himself angrily.

"As my mother tried to soothe him, he looked up at her—and for a brief moment, I saw his eyes clear. But the next second it was gone, and..." Marin inhaled a shaking breath, trembling violently as she gripped the concrete ledge of the complex. "And almost instantly, he had his hands wrapped around my mother's neck and he was throwing her into the bathtub, holding her under the water even as she struggled against him. It was the only time I'd ever seen her fight back. But it ultimately didn't matter. I watched as the water eventually went still, my mother's limbs went limp, and my father stumbled back as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done.

"He screamed out, telling the voices in his head to shut up, and grabbed the dryer left out by the sink. Somehow, he'd managed not to see me until he was clutching the plugged-in hairdryer in one hand, halfway into the bath. Then his eyes found mine, and he said 'they told me to do it'. He stepped into the water, and electrocuted himself."

It took a moment to compose herself. Marin was thankful that Peter had stayed silent through her story, but she wasn't finished. "I want to clarify something about mutants because I don't know how in-depth public schools teach about us."

She risked a glance at Peter, and was surprised to find tears trailing down his cheeks. He wiped them away, nodding.

"Mutants are born mutants—they already have the mutated gene in their DNA. It's a recessive, hereditary gene, so it's passed on through generations. But for the first several years of our lives, it lies dormant, waiting for something to trigger it. They're usually exposed when a mutant witnesses a traumatic event, or experiences a really powerful emotion. I think it has something to do with an enhanced sense of fight or flight, or for protection purposes or something. It's often destructive, and sometimes fatal, but rarely ever done on purpose.

"And, seeing... what had happened obviously triggered my mutant gene. You know that I can control water, so you can see how that kind of uncontrolled outburst can result in exploding all the pipelines in the building. But, as it turns out, I have a second, hidden power. Professor Xavier calls it Cosmic Energy manipulation, and it basically means that I can manipulate the energy that's normally found in, like, stars and stuff. It's hard to explain without detailing every nuance of astral and quantum physics. The only difference is, is that the energy is found inside me, and I don't need to draw on the energy from other sources like I do for my hydrokinetic powers. I can manipulate the energy to do pretty much anything I want it to do, hence, the flying.

"Anyway, my powers were unleashed to the fullest extent that night. I don't have any memory of what happened in the accident following my father's death—just waking up, surrounded by the decimated remains of my house. I was lucky that no one else was injured, even if the explosion did destroy the abandoned motel my parents had squatted in. When the emergency responders showed up, the entire building was in tatters, my parents' bodies were nothing but ashes, and I was untouched by it all. They didn't know what to think, so they called Charles Xavier.

"After he brought me to the Institute, he tried to figure out what exactly had happened. Charles is telepathic and extremely powerful, but even he couldn't access any memories I'd had, and therefore couldn't determine that my parents' deaths were a result of a murder-suicide, and not of my doing. So he assumed that it was my fault, and because I was uncooperative and traumatized, my Cosmic powers were growing increasingly unstable and destructive. He had no other reason to doubt my role in their deaths, and I gave him nothing to dissuade his opinion."

"I didn't notice that everyone was avoiding me. I didn't realize the looks they were giving me were ones of terror." Marin laughed dryly. "I didn't learn of the rumors until a new kid came to live at the school a few months after I did, and one of the older mutants stopped them just as they were walking up to me. The older student hissed at them, 'Don't go near her, she's dangerous. She'll kill you just like she killed her parents.' And of course, I retaliated, grew angry, and accidentally shot a blast of energy into the kid's leg, breaking it. Charles was freaked out, naturally, and he put a block on my mind so I wouldn't remember ever using my energy manipulation powers. It was supposed to keep everyone safe, but I felt the loss of those powers unconsciously, and I compensated in my hydrokinesis training.

"I spent most of my time training. I mastered most forms of martial arts by the time I was ten, and I could get a bullseye with every type of weapon blindfolded when I was twelve. I studied physics, and literature, and mechanical engineering until I could take any device apart and put it back together again. I was... I was missing something, and I thought that if I could fill it with knowledge and training, that I'd be okay again."

Marin shook her head. "But nothing motivated me more than the desire to help people. Every time I learned a new ability or mastered a new interest, all I wanted to do was show my mom. Then I'd remember the way she fought back, only to die in the end because no one was there to save her, and I'd burn with rage and helplessness. If only I'd had my powers, I could've saved her. I told myself that I wouldn't waste my powers—I'd never have to..."

Marin tilted her head to the sky, letting the wind sting her eyes until they burned and watered. "It's... I mean, have you ever had to watch as someone you loved so desperately, died right in front of your eyes while you watched, powerless to save them? I am haunted by that memory, that feeling of helplessness, and I fear that it will be my downfall, much like my mother's love for my father was hers."

"I have," Peter croaked quietly. Marin turned her head to look at him. There was so much pain in his eyes that it pushed the air out of her chest and clasped her heart in a sharp vice. "My uncle Ben—he was shot, right in front of me. And I was too late to stop the robber that killed him. I'd had my powers for a month, and hadn't used them for anything but selfish reasons. I'd had my powers, but didn't use them for anything good." It was his turn to draw in a shuddering breath. Marin scooted closer to him, brushing her shoulder against his, but otherwise not touching him. "He's why I do it. Why I became Spider-Man, and why I fight so hard to continue fighting bad guys, despite everything—my age, my schoolwork, May, everything. He told me once, 'with great power, comes great responsibility', and after he died, I felt like I was somehow letting him down if I didn't use them to help save those who can't save themselves."

"I know," Marin said. It seemed like it was all she could say. After a moment of silence, she confessed, "I hated being an X-Man, you know. I joined when I was thirteen after we watched the Avengers fight off an alien army on TV. I hated how we just sat there, watching as the world was in mortal danger, and we did nothing to help them. I wanted to save people, and I thought that I could do that as an X-Man. But I was wrong. All we ever did on missions was recruit new mutants and occasionally intercept drug trafficking rings. It was never enough for me. And so I acted out a lot, constantly got myself into trouble because I didn't like obeying orders and staying in line like an obedient little soldier." Marin pulled a face. "I played fast and loose with what lines I could cross as an X-Man, and I didn't care about the consequences. That's why I ran away that night, at the bank. The others heard those women screaming and they didn't care—they'd rather leave them to be killed so they could stick to the stupid orders Charles gave them. I wasn't going to be one of them, anymore.

"They don't care, mutants. All they care about is saving their own kind. Keeping us safe and hidden from the outside world, lest they try to hurt us. They don't care if humans are in danger; unless it's a threat to mutants, they refuse to help save anyone." Marin looked Peter in the eyes. "That's why I didn't tell you what I am. I didn't want to be a mutant if it meant that I'd have to pretend like I didn't care."

Marin sighed softly. "When I got kicked off the team, though, it hurt me more than I'd care to admit. I was a part of something, even if I didn't agree with their motivations. It was the only chance I had at being a hero, and I was too careless and lost it."

Peter ruminated in silence after Marin finished her tirade. The only sounds were the occasional honking of a car, the wind rustling branches and leaves, and their collective breathing.

"When I lost the suit, I felt like I lost a part of myself." He eventually said, his voice steady but low. "That's where we're different—you don't need to be an X-Man to be a hero, but I’m not Spider-Man without that suit. All I am is a stupid teenager who can climb walls and flip around. I’m no one if I’m not Spider-Man.”

Marin scoffed indignantly. "You're not no one—you're Peter Parker." She stared him down, pressing her sincerity into her gaze. "Spider-Man is not a suit. He's a person, and most importantly, he is you. You don't need that suit to be a hero, Pete. I should know, I knew you before you even had it."

Peter's eyes widened, gazing at her softly.

Before he could even think to object, Marin continued to confess, "You're why I left, you know. That night I ran away from the Institute." His expression changed, his eyes growing curious. "There's a reason why I came to you." She nudged his shoulder playfully.

"Why?" Peter whispered; his voice carried off slightly by the wind.

"Because I wanted to be like you." She tilted her head. "You stood down those men at gunpoint, wearing those ridiculous pajamas—"

"—they're not pajamas—"

"—and still saved those women." She grinned, purposely ignoring his protest. "Yeah, I helped some, but you went in there without any ulterior motive, and put your life on the line because you had to. I just went because I had a chip on my shoulder and a point to prove. But you... you going in there alone was both the bravest and stupidest thing I've ever seen someone do."

Peter chuckled. Marin pointed into his chest. "That was Spider-Man. He didn't need that fancy piece of fabric to be a hero, and you know why? Because it's you who's the hero, Peter. Not only did you save those women and countless others, you also gave me a place to sleep when I needed it the most. You gave me hope, and the courage to fight for myself. You gave me a sense of belonging that I've never found anywhere else." Marin smiled sadly. "Don't you see? You don't need to be super to be a hero. You're super because you are a hero. And I know for a fact that your uncle would be proud of you—with or without your powers, no matter what suit you wear."

Peter choked on a sob, curling into himself. Marin wrapped her arms around his trembling body, going to rub his back gently; but at her touch, he twisted, tucking into her chest. Moving her hand from his back to his neck, she ran tender fingers through his hair, soothing him with hushed sounds and words of comfort. It amazed her how quickly this turned from an exposition to an exchanging of bared souls.

They stayed like that until Peter finished crying, and his breath evened out. He nuzzled his face into her shoulder with a deep inhale, and spoke into her jacket, "Your mother would be proud of you, too, Marin."

Marin squeezed him tighter, feeling a fresh tear slide down her cheek. "We do it for them, Peter Parker, and we do it for ourselves."

endnotes:

Marin’s father had no idea he was a mutant, and everyone thought that his telepathic powers were actually symptoms of schizophrenia. Because he wasn’t trained on how to control his powers and was unstable, he often abused Marin’s mother. It all culminated to one night where he drowned Marin’s mother in the bathtub and then electrocuted himself.

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @pushmeinablackhole @demi-starzak @-thatgirloverthere- @silver-winter-wolf @yourwonderbelle

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imagine-x-loki-x-aquaman · 5 years

Photo

Request by: @marytheredqueen

Original Request: Hi! Can i ask u a very special fic? For tonight? Its for a friend of mine, i would really need it. Im pretty sure that she would like a fic about a s/o who has a depression like her, it would sooth her somehow i think.

Pairing: Arthur Curry (Aquaman) x Depressed!Reader

Word Count: 940

Warnings: Episodes of Depression, May Trigger Anxiety

A/N: Hello, dear! I hope your friend enjoys this oneshot! I am sorry it took so long! To everyone who is going through a similar situation or are depressed, please remember that you. Are. More. Than. Worth. It! You all are unique and beautiful souls that have the vast universe running through your veins! I love you all so much!

The very moment I had collapsed upon Arthur’s Chesterfield sofa, all I had done was stare out the balcony of his old house.

The autumn sky seemed quite dark and vengeful while angry clouds coiled within as they race across the grey heavens. The clouds that coiled began to hide the sun, which was like a bashful youth who had been kissed for the first time, glowing with its final rays, flecked in gold.

Suddenly, the winds picked up in a frenzy and the thunder echoed while the heavy clouds began to collide with one another. And not too soon, the harmonic thrumming of the sudden raindrops fill my ears.

The sky seemed as depressed as I had been today, it seemed to be my only companion, who weeped as I began to do so. It was difficult to specifically pinpoint as to what had caused me to feel this way. Continuously, I had searched my heart and asked myself why or how I had began to feel this way. Frantically, after thinking about the numerous, unsatisfying possibilities, I grew irritated with myself as I run my fingers through my hair.

My body instantly betrayed me as my palms began to get clammy yet I felt as if I was bathing in ice cold water. Every cell in my body was tingling in pain while my heart beat so hard within my chest, it almost felt like painful waves thrashing up against the walls of my ribcage.

These dreaded feelings I had never wished for were like a vicious, exhausting cycle of burning hell, especially when I couldn’t control the overwhelming, sickening episodes. All this crying, overthinking, the constant feeling of being pulled into a dark abyss - it was a draining feeling that made me wonder if this life I was living is worth living at all.

In all sincerity, by now, this monstrous episode of depression would have since faded. But I felt as if my torn soul echoed with powerful melancholy. And so, everything around me only continued to become blurry as an annoying, low buzzing rang in my ears. The uncontrollable noise only made me want to yell in frustration as I sink to my feet and crawl over to the nearby nightstand.

With trembling hands and tearful eyes, I reach for the pills that had been prescribed for my depression.

The doctor had advised that I not take anymore than one pill as the drug was quite strong and overdosing would pronounce serious, long-term issues. As of this moment, it seemed to be the only way as I forced the cap to open and poured the pills on my palm, ready to swallow them.

All the sudden, the pills were knocked out of my hands as they scattered across the floor of the bedroom. And before I could reach for them and yell at the person, two calloused yet soothing hands rest upon my cheeks.

“Marian,” Arthur’s gravelly voice whispered as I gasped when I look to him and stare into his darkened eyes.

Instantly, he pulls me to his chest and instinctively, I wrap my arms around him, breathing in his soothing scent of the ocean. Tears threaten to spill and I let them as I mumble to my beloved. “I’m exhausted. I can’t do this anymore.”

At my broken words, I feel him shift into a protective gesture and the grips of his strong arms tightened around my waist. As we remain in this seated position, Arthur whispers, “Why do you dictate such cruel words to yourself, my love? Have you any comprehension of your own worth and how impossibly extraordinary you truly are? Because I do.”

“Arthur.” I turn my face away from his gaze.

“It’s true, Marian.” He said as he cupped my face into his hands. And he smiled so perfectly. His lips curved resembling an archer’s bow. “You have involuntarily let depression consume you and define your self-worth that you have no idea how utterly exceptional you are. These terrors that you face are mere echoes into the void of the combination of miracles that the universe carved you to be.”

“Think of it this way, my love.” Taking a hold of the palm of my hand and caressing it with a soft kiss, Arthur continued. “You only ever see the marvellous blue when touched by the sun’s gold beams splashed across the skies. So, while it’s there, the marvellous blue, take heart. For in these moments, you might not realize it but you are far closer to being healed than those who decide to take comfort in these dark echoes of their voids instead.”

At the meaning of his sincere words, I turned around to face him as his smile reached the creases at the corner of his eyes. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs and kissed me gently on my forehead as he let his lips linger there for a few moments.

“You are possibly more amazing than they deem you to be, Aquaman.” I chuckle as I wrap my hands at the nape of his neck, running my fingers through his hair that was wet with sea spray. Arthur chortled and pulled me against himself into an embrace once more.

“And so are you, mama.” He replied. “You are wonderfully, unbelievably, and extraordinarily amazing. And remember no matter what happens, I will be at your side through every struggle because I’m in love with you. With every aspect of you and each day it grows stronger.”

#dc comics #dc aquaman #dc comics aquaman #dc comics imagine #aquaman x reader #aquaman imagine #arthur curry #arthur curry imagine #arthur curry x reader

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feel199x · 5 years

Text

gang!au, gang member!han jisung, florist!reader, underground band!au

chapters: I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X masterlist

warnings: angst and themes of abuse and trauma

🌸 a/n: i actually finished this fic, and it’ll be up in my queue to post over the weekend! it’s kind of exciting to be finally finishing this fic! a hint for the next chapter is at the end!! hehe

🌸 song rec: arsonist’s lullaby

Your eyelids were still heavy when you awoke. In front of you, though your eyes still blurry you made out a flower vase. You tried to move, suddenly desperate to feel the petals against your fingertips. Even though they were azaleas, petunias, globe amarths, carrot flowers, and asphodels- all dressed in a void black vase. You knew what it meant, you knew what it threatened. But you found your arms sore, propped up and irritated from the handcuffs that hung from the ceiling. As you looked down, your head getting too heavy for your neck to support, you found yourself surrounded eglantines, lemon and peach blossoms, lungworts, phlox, and red rose petals. You couldn’t help but let out a choked sob, your wrists burning, the metal digging into your skin. You arms stayed propped up, but the numb feeling began to spread through your body. You didn’t even look up as he came in, even as he made sure to slam the door shut.

“You know why you’re in here?” You didn’t answer, your voice all used up from crying. You could feel his fingers on your jaw, propping your face up so you could look straight up at him. You couldn’t make his face out completely, your vision blurred but not fading. There were already bruises there you knew, and he pressed down on them further. “Do you? I try so hard to control myself, and here you are, still acting up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you? I should just leave you here, let you learn your lesson.”

His thumb rested against your chin, looking at you intently- what could almost be mistaken as sympathy. It was deja vu, sitting there like a doll. “But I can’t resist you, can I?” No, you guess he couldn’t. That was the funny thing, right? He couldn’t expect to, how could he resist these primal urges? He talked and talked about nothing, and you were glad that you couldn’t pay attention to his words anyway, mind foggy and complacent. “I even brought you flowers. You didn’t have these in your shop, huh? So I got them. I’m a good husband.”

“Husband?”

“Good thing you’re pretty.” He got up, reaching over you and pulled something off your, well, ring finger. “See that? That cost more than your stupid shop.”

Stupid shop.

He slipped it back on, sitting back down next to you as he continued to talk.

“How long,” you paused, voice weak and raspy, quiet, “has it been?”

He seemed surprised by your question, eyebrows digging into his forehead in sudden anger. He got up and paced around the cramped room, not even bothering to watch him as you stared down at your own clothes- crinkled and dirty. “Why do you care?” he seethed, “I could treat you better than he ever could. A low-level drug dealer and a shitty, amateur rapper. Do you see lover boy here? No, you don’t. ‘Cause he’s dead.”

You let out a small gasp, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes and you looked at him. “What did you do?” you weeped, “Please- please, please tell me what you did.” His pacing came to a stop as he looked at you, face contorted with anger. “I got my co-workers to shoot him and friends dead, that’s what I did. Because you’re mine. Always and forever.”

You didn’t know what was true and what wasn’t- he couldn’t exactly be trusted. You grew impulsive, angry with him. Jisung would never, Jisung could never. He wasn’t that type of person- he could never take advantage of people, he could never keep something like that from of you. And here your captor was, smothering ash over Jisung’s name. But you knew he wasn’t lying about shooting Jisung and his friends, even if you didn’t want to believe it. He had tried the same thing with your family back then too. You felt guilty, at fault like you were the one behind the trigger. Anger bubbled like sparkling in your throat like bubbling water, steaming with impulsivity.

“You should kill me too then. I’d rather rot in the ground next to Jisung than spend another second looking at you.”

You knew your goal should’ve been to play the long game, especially after your failed attempt some time ago. How long has it been? You weren’t sure, there weren’t any windows in the room- and the white painted walls burned into your eyes. If you made him angry now, it would only take longer to gain his trust, but the damage was already done- you could feel the blood pouring out of the back of your head. You might’ve been dying, but you didn’t really care. You couldn’t even feel the pain from the hit from the adrenaline, so you continued to push your luck. Because it was true, Jisung had kept you going, your shop had kept you going. How would you ever be able to look another flower without seeing his face?

“He loved me better than you ever did and he didn’t even ask me to be his lover yet. Lover boy is better than you even dream about.”

It wasn’t like you to speak out of your turn, especially with the looming threat of death. You were too far gone, the warmth of blood streaming down your back. The bruises on your jaw from your grip deepening in color as his grip tightened, yelling some nonsense.

Still, even as he looked into your eyes, his breath hot on you- all you could think about was Jisung. How could you not? Your mind swam through melancholy memories.

You were in his arms tonight. His arms drooped over your shoulder, his head pressed against yours- lips brushing against your jaw as he whispered commentary about the movie you were watching. You were leaning against his chest, feeling his heart beat against your back. Knees propped up as his legs circled around you.

“I love you,” he murmured, “probably more than like, shrek.”

“I would hope so, shrek doesn’t feed you,” you paused, “But I love you too.”

And it was true, but you were unsure of the extent of your infatuation and devotion he was refering to. You wanted to say you were in love with him, but it was too much of a risk. If you scared him off now, who would come by your flower shop to spend time with you? Who would carry you off your bed during the weekends just to go to the convience store. Who would wrap arms and limbs around you and sing you to sleep at night after nightmares, after remembering? Did it even matter? You’ve never felt like this before, the only thing that came close was your devotion was your flowers. Maybe it should’ve scared you, that suddenly there was someone with so much importace to you, on the same level as the only thing that got through the Incident. You turned your head, the side pressed against Jisung’s chest. His arms moved to wrap around you waist, tightening around you. Your nose was touching his, lips only a breath away- but he was crying.

“Jisung,” you said softly, “Why are you crying? You chose this movie.”

“Do you think people in love will always end up together?”

You laced your hands in his, intertwining the both of them. “Of course,” you whispered, “Love finds a way.”

You thought it would happen then, his lips practically on top of yours- but it didn’t. He turned from you, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down- something caught in his throat. “Even if the person lied?”

“I guess it depends on the ‘sung. As long as it wouldn’t change your perception of the person in a way that hurt the relationship too much, I think they could make it.”

“What if it did? What if the person wasn’t as good as you thought they were?”

“Sung, is something going on? You can talk to me, I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

“You can’t. I can’t. We can’t.”

“Sung,” You cupped his face, making him look at you. You turned around, and his embrace loosened but remained around your waist. “I love you. You’re my best friend. I love you more than my shop. I promise that I always will, no matter the circumstances. You’re a good person, I know that. I promise, I pinky-promise.” You held up your pinky, and he brushed away his tears wrapping his finger around yours.

You don’t remember exactly what he had said before he left, something about a band dropping out of the club he played at. He had gotten a call and gathered his things almost immediately. You offered to go with him, you always wanted to see him live with his fans but he always refused. He said that it wasn’t your scene, and all grimy- it wasn’t somewhere you should be, not a play for someone pure as you. But you didn’t feel pure and insisted that he was the purer of you two. But it didn’t matter, when Jisung’s mind was set, it was set. He kissed your forehead, and before the door close he wrapped his pinky around yours without another word.

And then Jisung disappeared again.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was one of the longest. The days dragged on, the day having to pull and drag the night up into the sky. Even the sky’s star shined dimly, there only because of obligation. Ever since you started making arrangements back home at your mother’s flower store, you never liked roses much. But now you were starting to understand people’s obsession with them. It was an iconic symbol of love, everyone’s go-to, and you supposed there was a good reason for that. Its smell was sickeningly sweet, and the petals like velvet. You started getting letters in the mail. It happened every day. And even though you were flattered, you began to get worried. Worry arising.

After four months, you finally saw Jisung again. He kept somewhat in contact, but he had been busy. There were two months with complete radio silence, and one night you saw news coverage of shots fired in a car chase. You hadn’t put two and two together then, not even as you saw Jisung slightly limp as he moved around your store. You remember being conflicted about asking him, but as he kept telling you about his stories featuring his group members, you got lost.

That’s the night it all happened.

But before that, way before that. Maybe it really was love at first sight.

After the hose incident, you found Jisung lingering around your store until closing time. He had brought sweets every day for two weeks until you invited him back up to your apartment.

“Thank god,” he groaned, “My grandmother said if it didn’t work this time, she was going to interfere. Jokes on her, though, I’ve been stealing sweets forever.”

You laughed, getting bold after closing the shop and tugging at his wrist as you pulled him up the metal spiral stairs. “I would be more worried about Minho,” you teased, “you’d better not be slacking off during practice or he’ll chew you out.”

“Ew, ugh! Don’t remind me.”

“So, um,” you looked down, “What do you want to do?”

“Can I pick a movie?”

He had chosen a romance movie, you could’ve gone to the theater instead, but he insisted that he would pay you back for the fee- and that going to the theater would never be better than streaming at home. You didn’t mind romance movies, they were fun to watch. But during the less tense parts of the movies, you could feel yourself falling asleep and before you knew it your head was on his shoulder. If you were less sleepy, you would’ve freaked out as he pulled you closer is fingers lightly drawing shapes on your hips. You awoke when you felt Jisung’s chest heave and you looked up to see him crying. It was the first time you saw Jisung cry, and it broke your heart.

“Jisung, are you okay? We can change the movie if it’s too much…”

“No! Sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s just?”

“I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than love. I’m going to have a love like this one day. And I can’t wait. Thinking about makes me cry.”

You were awake now. Eyes glazed over, still heavy with exhaustion and sleep. The blood down your back had dried now, you could feel your hair all bunched together and sticky with the flaky dried and blood. It was throbbing, pulsing almost- the headache was unbearable. How long has it been? How long would it be? You tried moving your legs, a numb static began to make you grow in discomfort. It was for the better though, because otherwise you would’ve felt the rope digging in and around your ankles. It was hard, you had to press your wrists further against the cuffs in order to help yourself. It was awkward, like a baby learning how to walk. It must’ve been hours when you stood there, the feeling finally returning to your legs. Your arms were relieved with the ability to relax, even if they were in an awkward position. They were still strung up, but at least your upper arm could relax.

The flowers in the room had been replaced, but the petals around you were starting to become crisp and brown. Alstroemerias, altheas, arbutus, red and yellow balsams, Japanese rose, jumpers, and kalmias. It made you shiver with disgust and fear. Where was he getting these flowers? Was he going back to your shop?

You collapsed suddenly, your legs caving in on yourself. Your wrists pulled at harshly as your knees hit the floor. Have you eaten? You couldn’t have, how long has it been? Your stomach began to turn, you were hungry, but that was the least of your worries. Was Jisung really dead? What about his friends, Minho, Chan and everyone else? Were they dead too? How were you to expected to live with yourself, knowing you had brought his misfortune on all of them? If they were alive, how could you expect them to forgive you for the mess you had made? You couldn’t, and you would have to live with the guilt of hurting Jisung for the rest of your life. Because you knew it was dangerous, falling in love with someone knowing that it could be turned against you at any moment- but you did anyway. And now you had dug your own grave. Thoughts were growing difficult to form, the space growing through your coherent thoughts. All you could was feel.

How much time has passed? Months? Weeks? Days? Hours? Minutes? All you knew was white. You could see the walls fill in the spots in your vision. It was irrational, but you began to hate the white painted walls. The lack of color was draining you, except for the vase in front of you. You wanted to kick it, destroy it completely- you wanted to move and release everything- every emotion and irrational thought boiling with impulsivity in your head. The only thought going through your head, getting louder and louder, blocking the diminishing number of coherent thoughts.

Jisung is dead.

You cried, even as dehydrated as you were. Your voice was raspy, and you couldn’t even speak words of comfort to yourself. You couldn’t remember, you couldn’t make them out.”It’s…going….to...be...okay.” Maybe it was pathetic but you were the only one you could lean on. You couldn’t hang on to the hope that someone was going to rescue you, especially if the only people you were dead- or angry because of the mess you had caused.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

You looked up, vision spotty and glazed with tears, and nodded desperately. You were mad at yourself for giving in so easily. “You’re pretty like this, “ he cooed, “All broken down and desperate.” He stroked your hair, fingers getting caught in your bloodied hair. “I bet you’re hungry, hm? I’m not going to let you go, so you’re going to have to let me feed you. I’d hate to have to...well, you know.”

You wish you didn’t.

It felt like you were giving in as you ate, the food dry and difficult to swallow. He sat there for a while. The water he made you drink missed your mouth and streamed down your neck. You sat there, helpless, unable to clean yourself. “What a pretty mess,” he murmured, “What a pretty mouth. Just for me.” You hated him, you did. You hated him like forest fire, like the damage of a natural disaster. He disgusted you, he was disgusting- time and time again, he had taken everything that mattered to you. And he won. You felt pathetic, useless. Jisung was dead, dead and gone and you felt like it was all your fault. It made you shake, your heart thumping against your ribcage, begging to get out.

His phone rang, the ringtone burning in your ear. “Yes… I told you...Just get it...Dead.” He must’ve heard you lean against the metal cuffs, because he got up. He smiled, using his thumb to wipe the water off your lips. You were beginning to panic again, maybe it was a small chance that he was talking about Jisung and stray kids, but any chance was big enough to get worried. Before he closed the door, before you could give a second thought: “Help me take..a bath. Please.” Even with your soft, raspy and broken voice, it was enough to get his attention. Words were getting harder to form, it was getting to harder to even think- but you had to warn them, even if you don’t know what the danger was. Because if the call was about them, some of them were alive- and that meant you could clean up some of your mess, or at least make up for it. He ended the call quickly, uncuffing you. You arms immediately dropped, hands slamming against the floor.

“I knew you would come around. But you’d better behave. I don’t care if I have to hurt you to keep you complacent.” You watched as he pulled at your legs, untying the rope that kept your legs together. You struggled to get up, so he opted to carry you, throwing you over his back. It hurt your eyes to be flooded with color as he carried you to the bathroom. The bath ran and you sat in the warm water, he was watching you as he sat on the toilet cover. The feeling was returning to your body as the water in the filling bathtub lapped against you. “Help...me.” You didn’t want him to touch you, you never wanted to feel his fingers brush against your bare skin. You didn’t trust him, and you never would. Especially not after he did, or tried to do with Jisung. But more than anger, you felt guilt. It was overwhelming, contradictory feelings making your head spin even more. You shuddered as you felt the soap against your back.

“I missed you,” he murmured, “I’ve been searching for you for so long, waited for you so long.”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as he continued. “I watched you for months. I wanted to take you and carry you away in the night, but I wanted to make him watch. He needed to know you were mine.” You felt hot water pour over your head, the bathtub becoming decorated in a red tint. “I almost gave up, I thought I had lost you completely. But then I saw you with lover boy. I wanted to kill him right there, I wanted to kill everyone but you. He gave a good fight though, beat the shit out of me. But guess who’s dead and who’s got the love?” He laughed at that, massaging something into your hair and picking at the flecks. You felt your wound burn and you moved to cover it, but he slapped your hand away. “Me. I won. You’re all mine, and if I ever see him again. I’ll kill everyone. I’m the only one who loves, okay? Not Jisung, not anyone else. You’re mine.” You heard him murmur that again and again. “I love you, you’re mine, mine.” You brought your knees to your chest, glad that the water hid the fact that you were crying. He didn’t push you to get up though, at least he was that decent. You watched as the red water swirled down the drain. He left and brought a towel, and your dress was clean and pressed. He sat on the toilet cover again, watching in case you wanted to pull something again.

This time you walked, content with being able to feel your weight shift as you walked. You knew this feeling, what it felt like to be completely devoid of basic powers. He led you back to the room, watching the phone in his back pocket. As you entered the room, you took an interest in the flowers. They were beautiful, despite what they meant. It was the only color in the white void of a room, and it mocked you. Your fingers caressed the petals, and the smell was haunting. Your heart was beating again, and you did your best to keep your face blank.

“Aren’t they nice? I got them just for you. You don’t even know what they mean, do you?

“No...tell me.”

“Nah. It’s a secret just for me.”

He moved to set up your ties again, and you got up, legs wobbling with a slight shake as your grip around the black vase tightened. It was now or never. It didn’t happen in slow motion- you knew that wasn’t possible. But you watched as the vase shattered against the back of his head, falling, bursting into tiny pieces as the flowers fell to his feet and he toppled. You knew there was no way he would be down for long, so you fished the phone out of his pockets. You panicked as you ran around the large house, searching for a room to hide in the meanwhile. His phone was locked, but you saw the screen unlock as you typed in your anniversary. You didn’t know where you were, a random room with various boxes. You slide the closet door open, met with the smell of mothballs but you entered anyway. There was a lot of stuff, and you piled things on top of you as you typed Jisung’s number.

It fell to voicemail, and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Jisung….it’s me….don’t have time, please...he’s send..ing...someone. Be safe..please...I’m in love.... with you. I’m sorry.”

You ended the call, typing in the emergency number.

“What’s your emergency?”

“I’m trapped...abducted.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“Okay, stay calm okay? Please stay on the line as long as you can.”

“Can’t..he’s coming. Oh god, I’m as good...as dead.”

“Can you tell me his name please?”

“_____”

“____, as in the gang leader?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to stay on the line okay. Do you remember where you last were?”

“Boseong, my shop...flower shop..mirror.”

You heard the door slam open and the closet door slide open with a large creak.

“Sweetheart? Are you still there? Sweetheart, stay on the line. Is he in the room-?”

“Caught.”

azaleas: fragility

petunias: your prescense soothes me

globe amaranths: immortality, unfading love

carrot flowers: do not refuse me

asphodel in a black vase: death threat

eglatines: i wound to heal

lemon blossom: fidelity in love

peach blossom: i am your captive

lungworts: thou art my life

phlox: our souls are united, unanimity

alstroemerias: devotion

altheas: consumed by love

arbutus: love only for you

red balsams: touch me not, impatient resolve

yellow balsams: impatience

japanese rose: beauty is your only attraction

jumpers: asylum, aid, protection

kalmias: treachery

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fic #skz han jisung #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids han #stray kids han jisung #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung imagine #han jisung imagines

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bonbonswirl-blog · 5 years

Text

Broken

ALL THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING. Because there is a character that we dont have any kind of idea about them, i will just go by 'another person' without any names or features, just a person XD i made this while having cold so it may seem a little off, try to enjoy Xd

11 pm

Behind a bar.

Thats what the letter said. Eyes lingered over the lines before the letter was lifted down to show the view of a big bar, was that really the place he was meant to visit? Only one way to find out. He entered the bar, rough paintwork that coats the door and push, shards of black paint crumble to the floor. The bar curved into a room, dark in the barely lit place, through the windows the diamonds of lead panes trickles the sallow light of street lamps. The hinges squeal as though they are a warning, but their plea is silenced by a wall of noise. Laughter overpowers the jukebox. Conversations swirl in a dirty cloud of smoke, the stagnant stench of cigarettes hides within the collaboration of mephitic odours. A sharp smell of drink wafts towards him, like black plumes bellowing from the windows of a burning house. There is even a hint of sick tainting the fragrance of the room.

He looked up and down, right and left, He cant find the sender of the letter, wait...Of course he wont! the letter said to meet Behind a bar! Now have he to find where is the back door that leads to outside. It took him long enought till he found it. trying the door knob, the heavy iron bound door swung open, revealing a wide area enclosed by a flimsy hain-link fence. The unrelenting darkness took over everthing, plucked the stars and anything that can glow, burying them beneath the sky. The air had thickened, the temperature dropped and nowhere was there a comforting sound. Trash cans leaning on the bar cracked walls, ground covered in dusty powder, what looked like a streetlight, which was the only one that isnt fully broken, flickered, casting an errie smudgy beam onto that black place. That wasnt really the...best place you could invite someone to meet you in...It was all quiet and derelict. He had the enough courgage to step forawrd, walking unusually slow, he had an odd gait, It was slightly lurching as he went, trudging along at a sedate pace. His head right and left, searching for who he was supposed to meet with, his mind focused on finding a sign of someone in this hopeless space rather than the footsteps that seemed to echo throughout the desolate yard, why didnt he just call the name to hear a respone? Maybe because it doesnt sound like a good idea to do so in this haunted place. Yet still, he kept finding his eyes diverting to something each moment he heard a low simple sound, darting to locate the source. Thats until, under those overwhelmed black shadows, and after a short stroll, he found who he was looking for, standing there uncommonly, under another bulb that lacks illumination. His boyfriend clicking his feet to the land underneath, probably out of pateince. Finally, harry found him! Walking towards his direction smiling. "Hey babe!" "harry..." "oh boy! why you gotta choose this place for a meeting? We could have gone inside the bar as usual, right?" Harry was still confused beind the sudden call at this late hour, but he didnt care. "Tonight we...not gonna drink at the bar." "uh, ok? So, why did you send this letter today? What are we going to do?" He pulled it from his pocket to show the proof. "Harry we....we need to talk." Not like this startled harry a lot, but it wasnt in an ordinary tone. "Sure! Talk away!" His boyfriend spoke with his head to the dusty ground. "You see...how both of us go together to do anything. to walk together, to talk to each other everyday, to work and help each other when in any of us in trouble, it was all nice werent it?" The sudden mention of their sweet times together was also strange. "Of course! And im glad I do all of these thing with you!" "and this is what I wanted to talk about tonight harry..." the fletcher paid his attention, waiting for his darling to start the conservation, he doesnt need to consider bad possibilties, instead he was a bit happy inside, what if those mentions were to remind the other of their constant affectionate attachment and celebrate 'something' together? That would be a lovely thing! It was tenser than a tiger who stalks a prey while harry lover peers his way to him, face resolutely unimpressed. "I think this..... relationship needs to...needs to....needs to end." Harry stopped like he had taken a bullet to the guts. The words fell on him like a storm. The cold air hitting his face.

"...What?......" He may just heard it wrong, he hoped he really did, he wished he did and this is not what his love just stated, doubt was filling him. "We need to end this harry." His boyfriend repeated, affirming his recent words. No, his hearing was right, thats what he just said... "What....W-What do you mean?!?" "What do you think I mean?" His lover raised his eyes to meet harry ones, so he would know he isnt just messing around. It took harry a while to speak again. "You dont really mean this..." "Do I look like I am joking?!?" Harry looked downward briefly. "but...But....I...I thought we loved each other..." "You Are Right!! LOVE'D'!! Its all from the past harry!!" Why would he say such a thing...his mind cycles through emotions faster than a kid flipping radio channels, he was broken. Harry couldnt accpet what is taking place, but what else is there to do? "dear you...I dont think you are in your right mind tonight..." "No!! YOU Are Not In Your Right Mind Harry!!! Didnt You See It?! This ISNT Working!!! It Never Did!! Now Go Away!!" "Wha-" "Go Away!!!" his words and his anger cut too deep that harry couldnt change the image of him. When he met his gaze his was just the same. "No" "Why Dont You Get It?! Go Away!!" "No I wont! you need to go back to your sanity!!" "Im In My Full Sanity! Just Go Away!!" "Not Until I know Whats Wrong!" "I Said GO AWAY YOU GARBAGE!!!!" Rising his fist, his hand swinging out connecting to harry face in a flash of pain. Although not on his back, harry toke a few steps back from the impact. Bewildered, pressing a pale hand to his cheeks trying to comprehend the previous seconds. Did..Did his..Did his boyfriend for the first time just....punched him?!

"You......." "I told you to go away." " I DONT UNDERSRAND YOU! WHY?! DID YOU CALL ME OUT TO THE BAR AT 11 PM JUST TO BREAK UP WITH ME?!" "yes, I Cannot keep this up any longer Harry, I needed to do it now." "Im Not Breaking Up With You Until You Tell Me The Reason!" "look At Me In The Eyes And Say You Still Dont Know The Reason!! I Dont Even Know What Got Me To Agree To Be With You!" With each little word... a piece of harry heart broke. "...how could you say this...what happened that changed you?...." "Changed Me?! YOU Changed Man!! I Kept Being Myself and Been Who I am While Keeping Our Connections Stable!! I Did Everything With And For You!! Even In Stupidest Things! And I Shouldnt Have!" "But Bab-" "I Hate You!!" "No-" "I Always Did! And I knew One day you willl hate me too!" Thats wrong. They both loved each other, they said it and showed it, all of these are just words from anger...so why all this nonsense about love and hate? Where had he gone wrong? Since when did this love turn to poison? He doesnt know what had climbed inside His beloved and turned him mad. "Stop!! YOU Need To Calm Down!" "NO!! And For The Last Time Go Away!!" "Not Until I know The Reason!!" "No You Wont Know Now Go Away" "I Already Said Not Until I know What Happened!!" "GO AWAY!" "NO!" "You Gave Me No Other Choice!!" Without thinking, harry boyfriend turned around to grab something from a near shelf. It was revealed to be a small bucket. However, when harry figured out the kind of liquid thats inside it, the intended message was already enforced, and he lost what little colour he had, starting to freak out.

"Dont you dare....." "Oh I will! I will throw all this bucket content at Your Face If You dont leave Me!!!!" The other man couldnt believe this..his lover cant do that...yes he may be out of his mind right now, but he will never have the nerve to throw some unknown chemicals straightly on his face, it was just an empty threat to leave. and all he could do was to stare lifelessly at the eyes that held that bucket and a terrifying coldness he had never seen before. He had always thought those eyes were like a gem, but looking at them now he could see no trace of the vibrancy they once held, no trace of the boy he once knew. "Darlin-" "DONT CALL ME DARLING ANYMORE!!" There was stillness on both sides, faces unreadable. "Please be back to yourself..." "Leave Me Alone! "Please!" "Your Last chance Harry....GO AWAY" "PLEASE!!" "THATS IT!" That was when the cold man lost it altogether, and the unexpected happened. In an immediate movment he launched forward, tossing all the liquid inside the bucket in an aim to harry head, although it wasnt a full success, he did strike a part of his face. Harry swore he could had saw some good memories flashing before his eyes. And whatever that scorching substance was, when it fell Againist Harry face.

He Howled

It Was Hell.

The pain had no culture, no pity, no mind, yet it consumed whatever it pleases. Its only criteria is if it can take it and reduce it to something molten and foul, paroxysm of agony triggered a guttural cry from the fluter. His hands clawed over his burning face, brutally gashed. Solvent swirls on it without any mercy, penetrating to the cells that should be protected by smooth skin but lie open. Surge of torments spirals all over him. Violent shaking forced through his whole body, with no assume of stopping. Monstrous chill continued running down his spine and made his ghostly skin crawl. Muscles going to giving up. The worst of the blood had spelled, ran freely in thick scarlet rivers amongst his whole face, staining his hair, matting them together before it soaked into his cloths and the floor. From a clear distance outside, it was like a high barking that carried well through walls and air. Lungs have no choice but to painfully and rigidly take in the chilled air around for a living breathe until they couldnt anymore. He have cried and screamed, maybe not evident, nevertheless it was as if he was calling for a help, but there was no help to come, perhaphs the strength in his voice perished. His breath taken away every second, he was in his greatest neccisity of taking an inhale.

Thats until he decided to surrender to the torturing and sink into the unfolded darkness.

He was in a heavy black cloud. Nothing to see, Nothing to hear, Nothing to feel, Just this heaviness in his whole body. He couldnt remember how to open his eyes, but when he did, he scrunched the opened one at the bright light that was sipping through his closed eyelid, in struggle he slowly opened it, desperately squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before him. Pungent smell of hospital disinfect invading his nostrils. The room was silent apart from the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates youre alive and Quiet talking. He started to sense something, or rather a material, soft but elastic tightening around his whole sore face, from chin to forehead, even one of his eyes were covered, it was very aching. When the sight of his survived eye arised, he perceived Someone bending over him, face watching his. What harry never toke notice of is that they are holding his weak hand, and that they have little tears in their eyes. The features were not clear, but it can be marked that they have a light brown hair and wearing something..blue? Harry attempted hardly to recognize who is this, but he coudnt with this wounded brain, then he heard the familiar word that assisted in that. "...Brother..." Harry tried to remember how to talk. No words came, he blinked trying to force his memory to recall the owner of this soft voice with broken tone. He was out of ability to even clear his throat. He tried to answer, to say something, but all what came out was a tiny whisper. "...augh....ma....rley?..." The other man wrapped his arms around the injured one shoulders and pulled him close, hugging him gently to not provoke the burn. "shhhhh...save your strength brother...it will be alright..." Marley had a hard time hiding his sniffs, but harry havent got enought focus to realize. His sibling tenderly patting his hand, giving a queit moment for the victim to adapt to the consciousness. Harry lie still, slowly started blinking, he wanted to see whats around him. But he cant lift anything off this deep pillow. He used the very bare left of his capability to move some little angles right and left for learing about his new surroundings. Glancing around the bright white coloured bedroom. He catched sight of someone wearing the same color for a coat, staring at him from the door. He strain to hear and makes sense of it all. No idea. Where is he and why? How long had he been here? He shut his eyes, trying to remember what had exactly occured. Then it all hits him with a bang, The memory of it all starts to occupy his thoughts, panicking he jolted up with rushing hands running at his bandages, making sure this is true, the wound hurting with every touch of his finger, he figured it all out.

He lived

He laid back in his bed, he felt powerless and heavier, Couldnt move his hands, head or bod, His eyes washed with the kind of emotion that only come when people break in ways with no way to be repaired. "Whoever did this bro...they are Not Getting Away With This!!!!" "Mr. Marley please calm down the patient is still in an unstable condition." Marley sighed, plummeting his head to the bed, holding his brother hand a bit tighter. "im sorry doctor...its just that..." He couldnt continue his sentence for some reason, instead he started a new one. "Harry...please get better...for your family...for your friends...for me...please..."

Harry spent the rest of his days in the hospital remaining still in the bed. His head eaither felt heavy or light. He lost the track of time and may needed somebody to tell him, but he never cared, he will let all the time pass without any hint of concern. He never felt that alone or empty before. Sometimes, he replay the events in his head and wonder what were the right words to say, what was it that could prevent everything, it wont change that he is all to blame. It might had been kinder to kill him than to constrain him with living beside this burn. Everytime he try to sleep and leave this living nightmare, he cant. He never had the enough hope to recover or be cured. He wont, he doesnt need, he already knows he will never get better, he will never be the same.

If only

if only...

If only he didnt go behind that bar at 11 pm.

#brueklynn #harry fletcher #marley meriweather

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abelhayward · 5 years

Text

I got these feelings for you | Abex

Who: Abel Hayward & Alexia Connors @littlelexvc

When: Wednesday, November 14th 2018.

Where: Creed II premiere

Notes: Fluff, just a lot of fluff and feelings.

Triggers: anxiety, nsfw-ish

Abel rubbed his hands together as he waited to see Lex and gave people smiles when they passed him. He let out a breath as he tried to keep calm, but good thing she said that she liked him a lot? He rolled his eyes when he felt his phone vibrate, knew it was his mom telling him about her taking Issy home since it was a school's night.

Lex wove through the waves of people, holding the top of her dress in place as the tape the girl in the fashion department had put there was starting to lose it's tackiness and she really didn't feel like having a nip slip in front of all of these people. She saw Abel waiting for her and smiled, despite her apprehension about the conversation they were probably about to have. When she finally made it to him, she went straight in for a hug. "The movie was fantastic."

Abel looked up to see her walking towards her and returned the smile before he returned the hug. He felt a wave of relief wash over him when he heard her. "Thank you, I was worried that I wouldnt fill in the previous actor's shoes but I was able to do so." He replied, kept his hands on her lower back and pulled away slightly. "You look." He took in her dress and her look before he met her eyes. "Amazing." He swallowed hard as he looked at her and gave her another smile before he looked around then back down at her. "I found a place where we can talk."

Lex let herself linger in his arms for a moment too long, pulling away after she knew he had gotten a good look at the dress, and the girls. "I know I do," she chuckled, awkwardly crossing her arms in front of her, "You look pretty damn great yourself." She shifted her weight, her nerves beginning to show in her body language. It wasn't normal for her, but then again she hadn't been in this sort of a situation for a really long time. "Well, lead the way, then."

Abel shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, hoping it was okay. "Thank you." He replied as he looked at her and nodded before he turned around, did a head nod towards one of the wait staff and pulled back a black curtain. He headed towards a nice, inviting room and shut the door behind her once she was in.

Lex settled into his jacket, thankful for the gesture. It was freezing in New York that night, and she was really regretting not asking for a jacket of her own to go with the dress. Following him into the side room, she started pacing. She just couldn't stop moving. Somehow that made things better, for her anyway. "So..."

"Soo..." Abel started to say as he watched her pace and slipped his hands into his pockets as he leaned against a wall. "We both like each other, a lot and like I said. Im not gonna force things, we can go at a slow pace if you want, we can end whatever we're doing, now. If you want and go back being best friends." He was focused on her needs and what she wants, instead of forcing things onto her or focusing on his needs & wants. "I want you to feel comfortable with anything that we do, Lex."

Nodding as she listened to his little speech, Lex kept walking. It felt like if she were to stop moving she would just fall over, and then her boobs would be everywhere and that’s not even the good kind of boobs everywhere. “We can’t really go back, though. I mean, I know me,” she could feel herself starting to ramble, but just like she couldn’t stop her feet she couldn’t stop her tongue. “I wouldn’t be able to go back, anyway. And I do like you, a lot. But the last guy I dated, he was in med school and we broke up because he didn’t have time for me anymore after five. years.” She finally paused to take a breath, finally able to stand still. “And with all of this,” she looked around the room, gesturing to the fancy clothes, “it seems like you won’t have too much time either.”

Abel agreed, they couldn't go back to be just friends. "I agree, I wouldn't be either." He pipped up before she started to ramble, making valid points and pushed off of the wall when she stopped talking. He took her hand gently, guided her toward the couch that was in the middle of the room and he sat down to look up at her. "Which, I get it, I do. " He paused as he ran his thumb across the back of her palm. "However, when I was in LA, I wished you were there with me. In Miami, I wished you were there with me. Even in Atlanta, I wanted you there with me. That's why when I touched down in Philly, I grabbed the first train ride I could so I could see you. Another reason why I didn't leave until mid-morning the next day but." He licked his lips as he gathered his thoughts. and met her eyes. "I'll have time for you, because of Im not like your ex. When Im done, with the press tour for Creed II, I'll be back to you in a heartbeat and Im actually staying in New York until I have to leave again next week." He chewed on his inner cheek a bit. "I want you to come with me. Im not asking you to drop everything for me, believe me. I don't want to be the reason why you lose your job or your place because I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Like I said, we can go at a slow pace, if you want."

Lex listened, though she couldn't really look him in the eyes. Feelings were weird for her, really weird. She'd tried her best since she and Jordan had broken up to not feel them anymore. After the first half, she sat down beside him, crossing her arms in front of her again to keep everything in place up there. "Coming with you isn't exactly moving slowly, Abel," she smiled half-heartedly at the wall and leaned back against the back of the couch to think. "And you just said yourself that you still have more press stuff to do, and then you're only going to be home for a week before leaving again. And we both know I can't just leave work for however long you'll be gone, even if I wanted to."

Abel nodded when she pointed out. "I guess its not." He said softly as he listened to her, took off his pinky rings and rubbed his hands together after he pocketed them. "Yeah." He bit down on his inner cheek. "Then I'll be home for good, but that doesnt solve what to do right now." He let out a sigh as he ran his hands over his face and ignored his heart sinking. "What are we gonna do, then?"

"Are you okay with where we are right now?" she asked quietly, trying to figure out where they could go from here while he was going to be out of town for a while. She could see that he was just as nervous as she was, though, so she sat back up and gently put a hand on his knee. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Because it doesn't seem smart to change things until your life calms down a little."

Abel felt her hand on his knee, which made him want to hold it but he wasn't for sure if he should. He opened up his mouth, closed it and looked down at the ground before he looked back at her. "Im okay with is as along you are." He whispered. He gently shook his head at her words. "No and its not only gonna change for us, but for Issy too."

Lex found that it was easier to look at the hand she'd placed on his knee than to actually look him in the eyes. She didn't know if she'd completely messed up by saying that or if he really did agree with her. "Be honest, please. Don't just say what you think I want to hear," mumbling towards the end, for all she knew he hadn't heard any of it. "I know. That's one of the reasons I'm.. dammit I'm really anxious about this."

Abel listened to her and swallowed some as he turned towards her. "I wanna be with you, Lex. If that means keeping things as they are right now, then we keep doing the friends with benefits and once I'm home, home. We can always take baby steps and see where it goes." He said as he looked at her. "I am too."

Lex kept her eyes down as she listened to him, refusing to let whatever emotions she was feeling show on her face. "Okay, I'm okay with that if you're sure you're okay with it. And if you're okay with things possibly changing for Issy."

Abel nodded as he kept his hands to himself. "I'm sure I'm okay with all of it, Lex." He said softly. "I dont want to force you."

"And I don't want you to do something you're uncomfortable with either," she sighed, squeezing his knee gently before finally looking up at him. "I promise, I would never let myself be forced into something I don't want."

"I promise, I wont do anything that's uncomfortable with," Abel said as he made eye contact with her. He nodded shortly after she said that. "And I promise, I wont force you into doing something that you dont want to do."

"Well, now that that's settled," she smiled softly, kissing his cheek before standing back up and adjusting the front of her dress to make sure the tape was still sticky. "You should probably get back to the party, people will be missing you soon enough."

Abel smiled softly when she kissed his cheek and looked away when she was adjusting the front of her dress. He looked back at her with a smile as he stood up and looked at her. "Yeah, well. They can wait."

Lex cocked an eyebrow at him, watching him quizzically as he stood. "Oh?" she chuckled, taking a step closer to him. "I hope you have a good excuse prepared."

Abel smiled when he took a step closer to her and nodded. "I do, believe me." He said as he kept his hands at his sides and adjusted his coat on her.

"Care to share? I'm intrigued," Lex grinned up at him.

"My parents was talking to me about taking my daughter to Disneyland," Abel said as he placed his hands on her hips as he looked down at her. "And we lost track of time."

"I guess that's a good enough excuse," she murmured, closing the rest of the gap between them, and wrapping her arms around his neck. His jacket fell off her shoulders and onto the floor, but she didn't care.

Abel raised an eyebrow when he heard her. "Wanna give me a better excuse?" He wrapped his arms around her, leaned down and rubbed his nose against hers.

Lex shook her head, "I don't think I could give you a more believable one, really." She could feel the redness creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks, the stress of the situation finally subsiding.

"I'm sure you can," Abel said softly as he looked at her and gave her a soft smile before he pecked her lips.

Lex kissed him again. ”I think you just want to keep me here for other things,” she teased, pulling him closer and pressing her lips to his. She knew they wouldn’t be able to stay hidden away for long, but she would take advantage of the moments they were able to steal.

Abel let out a soft chuckle when she spoke and shrugged a bit. "I mean," he glanced down and ran his finger down the side of her breast. "I would be up for it if you are or we can wait until we're at my old apartment." He returned the kiss as he darted his tongue across her bottom lip. He had a feeling someone was looking for him, but he didnt want to leave yet.

Lex’s skin shivered under his touch, and she grinned up at him. “They look pretty great, don’t they?” She chuckled and shook her head, kinda disappointed with the realization that she wasn’t up for the adventure she had suggested. “As much as I don’t want to wait,” she murmured against his lips before trailing kisses around his jaw up to his ear to whisper, “I don’t know that I could stay quiet.”

"They truly are, but I also know that they look great outside of your dress," Abel said with a grin as he looked down at her. He couldnt help the smirk that spread across his lips when he heard her and nodded as he silently agreed. "Fair enough and I know for sure I wanna make you vocal."

Lex could feel herself starting to blush, which was not something she did. She instantly thought of something that could spoil the plan they had just made, and just blurted our, “Where is Issy tonight?”

"She's with my parents back at the house. Hence why I suggested my old apartment, since I have a key to it, still." Abel said as he looked at her and brushed back a piece of hair.

Lex nodded, her brief worried slowly transitioning to a confident grin. “Well then, what do you say we get out of here? At least, as soon as you get done taking pictures with important people.”

Abel grinned as he nodded and kissed her lips. "I'll make it quick, promise." He whispered softly.

Lex smiled, nodding her head and pulling away from him to pick up the jacket that had fallen on the floor earlier. She dusted it off before handing it back to him, “You better put this back on before you go back out there.”

"Yeah, you're right but the minute we're alone, I'm gonna put it on you again," Abel said as he grabbed the jacket and slid it on before he started to fix it. "How do I look?"

“I’d rather you be taking clothes off of me at that point, but okay,” she smirked, looking down to double check that everything was still in place on her dress. She gave him a good look and grinned, “Like some Greek god. It’s kind of infuriating.”

"Baby, the minute we walk into the apartment, I'll be taking off your clothes. We might even fuck around the place." Abel smirked. He glanced down at his clothes, then back at her and gave her a grin. "I do have amazing muscles, so theres that."

“Good,” Lex laughed, satisfied by his answer and convinced her boobs weren’t going to jump out of her dress before their time. “Believe me, I know. And so does everyone else at this event. We all saw the movie.”

Abel chuckled a bit. "True, but someone does have a closer look at them than anyone else." He said as he looked at her before he kissed her cheek. "Where should I meet you?"

Lex grinned, laughing softly. “A few blocks down? Far enough that there won’t be cameras. We can take a taxi from there to your place.”

"Sounds good to me." Abel said with a soft smile. "I'll text you when I'm heading down there and in the meantime, you can wear my other coat that I brought with me." He reached down and dug out the ticket. "Here you go."

Lex took the ticket and smiled, “Thank you. I’ll see you then.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out of the side room, back into the party.

Abel nodded as he watched her leave, adjusted his jacket and headed out into the party shortly after she did. He noticed one of his friends, whom he knew for a while and talked to a few of the guests who came to the premiere.

#para:lex #para:igtffy #para #parawhatif #anxiety tw #nsfw-ish

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choisgirls · 7 years

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Rfa + v + saeran reaction to mc with sensory overload and social anxiety? Thank you so much 😘

A/N: So I may havestrayed from the social anxiety portion of this (im so sorry!!!!) but I feelwith sensory overload that social anxiety is a common pairing due to thetriggers of a crowd ^^ so i touched more on what a sensory overload may feellike instead, I hope that’s okay!!!! ;A; ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

When he has not only the TV on,but the radio, AND LOLOL blaring sound all at once?? That’s enough to driveanyone crazy in all honesty. But the sounds, to you, get jumbled in your head.All of them just get louder and louder, meshing together and seem to be neverending. Once it starts to happen, you’re able to hear your own heartbeat throwninto the mix and that sends you over the edge. You cover your ears, immediatelyfreezing up and dropping to the floor, your breathing becoming uneven and youhave no control over your voice to call to Yoosung for help. He happened towalk into the room and noticed you crouched, hands to your ears and shaking- hedidn’t know what happened but he knew something was wrong. When you managed toforce out something about sound, he ran around to turn every sort of soundcompletely off before running back to you to. Talking to you didn’t seem tohelp, but the moment his fingers lightly grazed your skin, you were snappedaway from the sounds and just had to deal with the panic and the calm down thatcame afterwards, which he helped you get through, of course! After a lengthy explanation,he felt horrible that this happened to you! From then on he agreed to have onething on at a time, not to mention keeping it down. If you wanted to watch TVand he wanted to game, he would wear some headphones so the noises wouldn’tclash! In public, he was the type to tell people to quiet down, just for you!He had no fear when it came to your wellbeing!

*ZEN:

Your boyfriend was really big onhealthcare and all around being fresh, which included scents! Multipledifferent candles at once, different lotions and face washes, different bathsalts, different scents all around the house and on him. Sometimes, justwalking into the house was enough of an overload for you. Too many of thescents at once- you smell them all yet you smell none. All you can tell is thatyour nose is smelling something- and your brain is searching, trying to processif it’s a good or a bad thing. Your heart rate kicks up and suddenly the scentsare stuck in your throat- both your nose and throat start to burn and you felt asif you were suffocating, not a hint of fresh air in sight. Hearing the softsounds that came with your throat closing itself, Zen rushed into the room tofind your eyes watering, and your hands grasping at your neck, desperatelytrying to coax it to open up and breathe. He ran around, trying desperately tofigure out what was wrong and how to help! You tried to tell him using handgestures that the smells were too much, and that you needed to go outside, sohe practically carried you out of the door and was a little hurt when youpushed him away from you, standing a good distance away to try and focus ongetting back to breathing normally. Trying to reclaim his pride, he asked youto tell him exactly what happened and why you pushed him away like that, whenyou told him that the mixture of the scents were too strong and triggered asort of panic attack, he became over dramatic and dropped to the floor, wailinghow he was a horrible partner to you. After consoling him (and trying to notbreathe in the strong scent of his cologne), he made a vow to you then andthere to just get lightly scented things! A soft scent would be fine with you,so long as it isn’t too much at once!

*JAEHEE:

She always appreciates your helpwhen trying to create new pastry items for the menu at the cafe, and you’rehappy to help! So long as she… takes it one at a time. But lately, she’s beenso stressed about creating the perfect one, she even makes them all at home,after you’ve left the cafe. Sure, she could just pick a few and add them all tothe menu, but she just wanted the one that would stand out fromthe menu, and she needed you to tell her which one! Which would have been okay,had she not… made them all at once. Take a bite of this one, take a bite ofthat one- one after another was over stimulating your tongue and you weresteadily heading towards a sensory overload, but you didn’t want to let herknow- what if she took it the wrong way and thought you just didn’t like herpastries! You could feel your tongue struggling to find each grain of the biteof cake, each texture and each flavour, all at once. Lingering flavours startedto intermingle with your current piece, and your nose started to pick up on theremaining pastries. Rather than having a meltdown full of crying and beingunable to breathe, your eyes seemed to glaze over. You looked as if you werechecked out, lost in thought, unable to snap out of your trance by yourself,she’ll gently touch your hand so she doesn’t scare you in any way. Once you’reable to look at her and recognize that it truly is her, you find yourselfhaving difficulty swallowing the cake and had to spit it out. Concerned it wasterrible, she asks you to explain what was wrong, and felt horrible at the factthat she had overloaded you with all of them! Immediately takes away the othersand reminds herself to let you try just one at a time, at your own pace. Whenyou aren’t in the cafe, she has you carry a little tin of your favourite coffeebeans, because the smooth scent can snap you out of an overload, and can calmyou down if you were to have one out in public!

*JUMIN:

You had no idea how this mandidn’t suffer from any sort of sensory overload as well? He’s constantlysurrounded by so much work, people, cameras, people trying to touch him,/noise/. As much as you love him, it’s… overwhelming. You’ve tried your bestto deal with it all, considering after the two of you returned from yourhoneymoon he told you it was something that had to be done… but sometimes itwas just too much. You’ve started to decline attending events with him orfaking an excuse to get out of it, and he started to worry that it was becauseof something he did- were you tired of him? You couldn’t get out of this datehe has planned for you, not that you exactly wanted to, it is a date after all!But you weren’t expecting so many flashing lights, so many people askingquestions at once, so many of the body guards bumping into you and otherstrying to just touch you. You could feel your head starting to throb, yourheartbeat made its way into your ears and tears prickled your eyes. All of thesounds started to mesh together, your couldn’t catch your breath no matter howhard you kept trying. You tried to hold it together because making a sceneisn’t proper and you wouldn’t want that sort of bad publicity associated withJumin, but you couldn’t help it. There was just too much going on and youcouldn’t take anymore. You dropped to a crouch, right in front of Jumin- hestumbled over you a bit before bending down to see what was wrong. He saw youstarting to cry, you were short of breath, and your eyes seemed to shift aroundat a quick pace, like you were trying to analyze your surroundings. With a softtouch to your hand and quiet cooing, he got you to look at him as he spoke toyou about calming your breathing. He could tell that your stare at him wasempty as your mind continued to race, but he needed to get your breathing backbefore anything else. Once you took in that deep breath, light came back toyour eyes as it started to register Jumin and only Jumin. You had to explain tohim every detail you could remember so he could paint a picture of what youwere experiencing, and he vowed to do everything in his power to protect youfrom it again. More bodyguards but more space between them and you, sneakingaround to things that are special for the two of you, if you need a space to bealone, he’s making one for you no matter what it takes.

*SAEYOUNG:

His house is always so messy.The days that Vanderwood comes by and actually cleans is almost like Godhimself has come to your aid and eased your mind. But there is just… so manymachine parts strung about, empty chip bags tossed everywhere- they rival theamount of clothes on the floor. The smell of honey buddah chips, PhDPepper, /dirty laundry/, all of them mixtogether and it’s just hard to breathe and distinguish which is which. Computererror sounds, crinkling of chip bags, the tick tack of the computer keys, thesounds all boom in your ears. There’s always so many things going on that youcan’t focus on anything one thing and that’s not only frustrating, but harmful.It’s almost as if you’ve walked into his computer room- surrounded by millionsof screens, all playing sounds at once, all different moving pictures, the dooris locked and you can’t get away from it all. That’s what it feels like, justsitting in the living room for a short period of time. You’ve learned to hideit from Saeyoung, only having a few breakdowns while he was busy or not payingattention, but one day, mid-conversation, all you could do was look around theroom at the mess, until everything blended together and you found yourself onthe ground, short of breath, every fiber of your being seemed to be screamingat you. Your whole body was tingling as you were trying to get your breathingat a steady pace, so when Saeyoung lightly touched your hand, it felt like pinsand needles and sent you backwards, throwing yourself onto your butt and tryingto get away from him- get away from everything so that you could relax. Thatscared him to absolute death- did he do something wrong? He knew what panicattacks looked like but this.. looked different?? He stood near you- notouching- and tried cooing at you ever so softly, watching as you finallycalmed yourself down several minutes later. Sitting patiently with wide eyes,he’s waiting until you’re able to talk to him about what happened, knowing fullwell that pushing the matter wouldn’t help. When you explained everything tohim, he nodded silently and seemed to understand. After placing a kiss to theside of your head, he got up and immediately cleaned everything in sight up offthe floor and put it where it belonged. From that day on, he was alwaysreminding himself that he needed to clean- he even built a cute little robot tohelp! He couldn’t imagine how you felt so he wanted to do everything he couldto prevent it again, he knew it wasn’t a sure-fire way, but he was hoping thatit would help at least a little bit!! Not to mention, he got Vanderwood to comeover more often to help too. The only reason they agreed was because theywanted to help you any way they could… not that they’d let you know.

*DADDV:

He loves taking you out to funfestivals for dates, like carnivals! And you loved going with him! Butsometimes they were absolute hell for you, you didn’t want to tell him that-you didn’t want him to worry about you! So, you put on a brave face, and triedto focus on your breathing, and everything he did to keep yourself grounded.Too bad it.. didn’t work. The scents of the food stands, the loud sound of thecrowd and yelling children, the background music, the flashing lights- they allmeshed together. It was like you were on the large merry-go-round in front ofyou; the lights and sounds started to speed up, it felt as if you were spinningaround uncontrollably- up and down, unable to make sense of it all, youcouldn’t get off of the ride. Your grip on Jihyun’s hand tightened as youstruggled to stand up straight- you couldn’t see him nor could you hear him buthe did his best to walk you to a more quiet space so you could catch yourbreath, and so you’d be away from everyone. He’s seen what panic attacks looklike- the panic yet glazed look, unable to catch your breath, crying. He leftsoft touches along your arm and shoulders to let you know he was there, buttried not to touch you so much in case that made matters worse for you. Onceyou came to, he made sure to get you water and said nothing until you wereready to explain what happened. He was so sad you didn’t tell him that this wasa problem before! Sure, he loves going to these festivals, but he loves youmore and would much rather have you comfortable and happy than risk having youget overloaded- he could now see just how much of a toll it all can take onyou! The two of you made a compromise- you still attend these festivals, but atyour own pace! All you had to do was tell him you needed a break, and in lessthan a minute he will find you a soft, quiet place to calm down and take abreath in before you get too overloaded by it all. Not to mention, he gives youhis old sunglasses to help block out some of the brighter lights so it isn’ttoo glaring in hopes of easing the visual stimulation! He would be your guidethrough the crowds of people so you didn’t have to take everything in at once!

*SAERAN:

As much as he’s surrounded byhis computer screens and flowers outside, I feel as if he’d experience anoverload or two- at least pertaining to loud noises or too much sound, so he’drecognize a few of the symptoms. Sometimes you would look extremely distantwhen the two of you were out, as if you were trying really hard to focus onwhat he was saying to you- a lot of the time you would get immensely irritatedout of nowhere. Not at him, per say, but irritated in general. You were justtrying to sit peacefully in your shared bedroom, watching some TV, when youcould hear the tapping of keys on Saeran’s keyboard. You tried ignoring ituntil you started to hear a few error noises, the fan in the computer kick up,a ding every now and then. As little as they were, they started to mashtogether until you’re unable to distinguish one from another. You let out apainful groan as you covered your ears, Saeran immediately turning around tocheck on you, but your panicked overload had already started and you had toride it out. Everything seemed to crawl- your skin, the sounds crawled around,you could physically feel the blood being rapidly pumped out of your heartleaving an odd thump in its wake, you could even feel the breath crawling outfrom your lungs as your throat tries its hardest to get it back in. Immediately,Saeran turns off every piece of equipment making any sort of noise and getswater and some medicine for the headache he expected you to have afterwards.Waiting until you’re calm and able to catch your breath, he’ll just keep hiseyes on you until you finally cave and tell him exactly what you felt. He getsyou a pair of noise cancelling headphones like he has, to help block out anyother sounds while you’re trying to focus on watching TV or listening to music.He’s been through a few, and he just wanted to help because he doesn’t want youto feel like he does! Keeping a small jar of rose petals help as well- a calm,soothing scent can help ease any other strong senses that may bother you andpossibly trigger an overload. He also doesn’t hesitate to shut people up (orthreaten them for that matter), so they’ll stay quiet and hopefully keep you atpeace. Was it also lowkey for himself? Maybe, but he isn’t telling you that, hejust wants you to know he thought of you first, then himself.

Masterlist~

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