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cordeliawhohung · 1 year

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From My Corner of the Universe: Concrete

Chapter Two: Concrete

Find Chapter One Here

warnings: violence, strong language, choking (not the fun kind), mentions of human trafficing, death, biting (also sorta not the fun kind?)

wc: 7003

Your boss Cronus shows his true colors, and Spider-Man swoops in to save you. However, the masked hero isn't what he seems, and you find out there's a lot more things to worry about than perverted bosses.

Friday’s didn’t bring you as much relief as they should have. Most people would be dragging their feet through work, looking forward to whatever drinks they would chug down later that night, or the amount of sleep they’d catch up on over the weekend. But for you, Friday was just another day that separated you from Sunday, your one only actual day of rest during the week.

This thought soured your mood a little as you worked on deep cleaning Leto’s room. You tried to do it at least once a month, if not more, since the girl couldn’t seem to be bothered to do it herself. When she was younger you didn’t mind as much, as she was only capable of making simple messes, but now that she was older, a lot of the stuff she left behind for you was downright cruel. So you washed the sheets, vacuumed the floor, attempted to get the juice stains out of the carpet, and wiped down every single surface you could think of. Meanwhile, the girl herself sat in the living room, eyes focused on some video game.

By the time you were done, it was only six, which meant that you had three more hours (if you were lucky) until Cronus returned home to relieve you from the task of raising his daughter. You walked out into the living room to check on Leto, and she was exactly where you left her. Really, the girl was getting old enough that she didn’t need a nursemaid anymore. She seemed completely content sitting there, rotting her eyes looking at the screen in front of her.

You didn’t even bother asking the girl what she wanted to eat, or if she was even hungry at all, you just went straight to cooking. Cooking for the Onasis’s was the only time you were able to really eat any fresh produce, and was one of the only reasons you really stuck with the job as long as you did. Luckily, part of the contract was that you got to eat a portion of the meals you cooked, which was just a cleverly concealed way of taking any sort of break away from you while still claiming you were getting fed. But the fresh strawberries, lettuce, apples, pears, peaches; everything fresh was worth it. You found yourself shoving a few scraps in your bag every now and then to take home to Avi and Nova.

Just as you were about to sneak a bite of the bell pepper you just chopped, the familiar ding of the door sounded, and Cronus burst through the door. You hadn’t even heard the sound of him on the phone, like he normally was while walking home. He was out of breath, panting so hard his entire body seemed to swell with each intake of air. A thin line of sweat formed at his forehead, causing his dirty blonde hair to slightly stick to his skin. His normally well kept suit seemed disheveled, and even torn slightly.

“How was work?” Leto asked monotonously, not taking note that her father looked very much unlike himself.

Ignoring her, Cronus unbuttoned the jacket of his suit before tossing it onto the floor, revealing the white button up shirt he had underneath it, which was stained with sweat. All you could do was stand there and watch him as he approached the kitchen fridge where he began to rummage for a bottle of water.

“Cronus?” you asked carefully, setting aside your cooking utensils to turn your attention to the man.

He didn’t answer you for a moment as he gulped down his water. He nearly drank the entire thing before he slammed the bottle down onto the counter next to you. Water dribbled from the corners of his lips, and he used his sleeve to quickly wipe it away. It was at that moment that you realized just how close he was to you. Not that him being close to you was a rare occurrence, but it gave you a better look of his eyes. Those terribly bright green optics bore through you, and you found yourself beginning to sweat under his gaze.

“Mind helping me with something?” he asked, ignoring your concern.

And what were you supposed to do? Say no? Helping him out was your job, but it was a request that he never made of you before. If he had asked you this yesterday, you would have thought it was just another ruse of his; something he had planned to try and sleep with you. But the look in his eyes, there was something different in them, something unhinged. You could feel your palms begin to sweat.

“What do you need assistance with?” you asked, attempting to keep things professional.

Your response seemed to be exactly what he wanted, and you felt a pit begin to form in your stomach as he grinned. His hand reached out and grabbed your forearm, and it took everything in you to not wince at his crushing grip.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling you out of the kitchen.

He went straight for the exit of his apartment, leaving his daughter behind to continue her game as if nothing had happened. Your heart began to thump in your chest, and you were terrified that he would be able to feel your pulse through his augmented hand. Still, you tried to act as if everything was fine, and you stumbled behind him in your heels.

You wanted to ask him where he was taking you, but it was like your throat was full of sand. No matter how hard you tried to get the words out, you ended up choking on your dry tongue.

As you were dragged down the hallway, Cronus kept whipping his head around, eyes glancing at every corner or slight shadow in sight. A part of you began to wonder if he was on something. Maybe he was hallucinating on some new drug that surfaced from The Hitsugi, or someone slipped something into his drink. He only seemed to calm down slightly the moment the two of you entered one of the several elevators lined up in the center of the high rise.

The doors shut behind the two of you, and he pressed the button to bring you to the roof. Despite the fact that you were somewhat willingly following him, he still kept that painful grip on your arm. It was like he was afraid you were going to run away from him, which you unfortunately couldn’t do while you were trapped in that small box with him anyway.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, carefully choosing both your words and tone.

Cronus instantly shushed you, and his grip on you only tightened. It was like he was trying to force his fingerprints into your skin, or at least he would if he had them. His augmented hand gave him inhuman strength, one that he couldn’t seem to control very well. Maybe he didn’t mean to hurt you as much as he was, but you could no longer hide your discomfort.

It only got worse as the doors opened, revealing the roof of the high rise. It was a dark day as the clouds from the previous nights’ storm still lingered in the air, blocking out the sun. Everything was a dark grey color, but that didn’t stop most of the Olympians from enjoying the smoggy air. A small duo of children no older than five were passing a ball back and forth on the turf to your left while a few nursemaids sat on a bench as they talked in hushed tones. A sanitary worker cleaned a full sized replica of the Laocoön and His Sons statue. Everyone seemed unbothered.

It should have been a nice day.

You were pulled out of the elevator, and you could do nothing but stumble along like a dog on a leash. Cronus brought you to the edge of the high rise where there was nothing separating you and the plummeting height below except for a simple glass railing. You weren’t afraid of the height. No one in Digi York could really afford to fear heights, really. Everyone spent their lives living in towering buildings, far from the ground that held them up, yourself included. Still, with Cronus’s steel-like grip on your arm, you found yourself suddenly terrified of falling.

“Bastard… must have sold me out… sick fuck, he’s gonna pay for this,” Cronus began to mumble.

If you weren’t concerned before, you certainly were then. It was rather common for people to appear to be talking to themselves as most people used their implants to talk with someone like they would with a phone. But Cronus wasn’t talking to someone else, he was talking to himself. Maybe he really had gone off the deep end.

Screams erupted from the far side of the roof, and you did your best to turn to get a glimpse at what was going on. Your blood ran cold the moment your eyes landed on him, and you suddenly realized just who Cronus had been running from.

A tall man wearing nothing but black stood where the group of young kids had been playing just moments earlier. Nursemaids scrambled to grab the children, looking up at the tall masked man with wide eyes. He didn’t seem concerned with the children at all. His head turned side to side as he surveyed the area, only pausing when his gaze seemed to land on you and Cronus.

Spider-Man. He was running from Spider-Man.

Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, his gaze pierced through his mask, harboring an anger that seemed almost explosive. Cronus felt this too and his grip on your arm was suddenly lifted. A sigh left you as you reached your arm up to your chest, going to rub at it with your other hand until you were interrupted.

Cronus’s hand returned to your body, but he was no longer grabbing your arm. Rigid, metal fingers snaked around your throat, and you suddenly found that your feet were no longer on the ground. Something solid bashed into the back of your legs, and you found your hands pitifully gripping his wrist as if trying to pry him off of you.

Until you realized you were no longer on the high rise at all. Cronus was leaning against the railing with his arm outstretched, dangling you over the edge. It was something he could do with ease with his fake arm. You couldn’t look down as his grip on your throat and jaw forced you to look up at the dark sky above you, but you could feel the breeze under you; the energy of the city buzzed below you hundreds of feet down.

“Let’s be smart here,” Cronus spoke up, his attention fully on Spider-Man.

There was no response from the vigilante, or at least none that you could hear over the blood pounding in your ears. A dark ring formed around your vision, tinting the already grey sky in a terrible shadow. Breathing was difficult, but you didn’t think you were going to die from him choking you, though, you were fully aware of how easy it would be for him to crush your windpipe if he so pleased.

“Did you know that she’s squishy? She’s got no augs,” Cronus continued, and it took a moment to realize that he was talking about you. “Not a single piece of metal in her body. Just flesh and blood. I could’ve made a fortune selling her, but now I’m more curious to see what it sounds like when she hits the ground. She wont have any metal to break her fall. Just bone…”

He spoke his words so confidently for a man who was obviously terrified. You couldn’t help but wonder how often he thought of that scenario; of hurting you. He was almost poetic with the way he talked about it, like it was some sick fantasy he had lived out a million times previously.

Spider-Man, however, did not seem nearly as enthused with his little speech. He continued to walk up to Cronus, almost nonchalant with his movements. This caused Cronus’s grip on your throat to tighten even more. An involuntary squeak left your throat and you attempted to hold yourself up, trying to keep as much pressure off of your head as possible. The full weight of your body being held up by only your neck caused your spine to crack, and the pressure behind your eyes made it seem like they were going to pop out of your head.

“The way I see it, you've got two options. You either let me go and jump after her after I drop her, or you let her hit the ground in an attempt to capture me,” Cronus continued. “So, what’s it gonna be, Spider-?”

His words fell short of your ears, and it was at that moment you realized just how tingly your body was. Pins and needles stuck the skin of your legs and arms repeatedly, and each breath you tried to heave through your throat seemed to be increasingly harder to draw in, as if you were breathing through a straw.

But then that pressure was suddenly lifted, and you felt yourself hit the ground. Had you fallen that fast? It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as you expected it to. And breathing had become so much easier. You laid there on the ground, now on your side, hands rubbing your throat as you coaxed your lungs to breathe once again.

Your vision started to improve a little, the dark ring around the corners of your sight began to fade, and you were able to clearly make out the scene in front of you as you gasped for air. Cronus was on his knees in front of Spider-Man, his hand pressing against his shoulder. A cable seemed to be attached to him, no it was piercing through him, holding him in place and keeping him from running away.

With a quick yank, Spider-Man tore the cable out of Cronus, and it completely ripped through his shoulder. Metal, wires, and a faint amount of blood protruded from a large hole in his shoulder, and the man let out a dull wince as his body moved with the force of it. Spider-Man retracted the harpoon-like weapon that had just torn through the man in front of him, and it seemed to melt into his body, hiding from sight.

You thought that was the end of it. Cronus was captured, and if Spider-Man had deemed that the man had done something wrong, he would just dump him off at the police station like he had with most of the other criminals he caught. But that wasn’t the case. Spider-Man grabbed Cronus by his already torn collar, raised a hand, and began to pummel him.

Metal clinked against metal as the titanium of Spider-Man’s fist met with the optics of Cronus’s face. The man let out choked cries, unable to get a full breath of air in before another blow landed. His entire body shook with each punch, and though the man had just talked about selling you, about killing you, the sight of it made you sick.

With a particularly loud crack, Cronus fell to the ground as Spider-Man released him. The lime green optics in his eyes were no longer lit, and for the first time ever you saw the true color of his eyes; brown. A long line had cracked along the side of his head, splitting him open where his optics were wired, and you knew then that he was dead. Spider-Man had killed him, reducing him to nothing but blood and metal on the concrete.

The man slowly turned to face you, hardly out of breath. And maybe it was the look on your face, your wide eyes, or the tears that stained your cheeks from the pain in your throat, but he started to talk to you as if he needed to explain himself.

“He was trafficking people down in The Hitsugi. Mostly children. Sounds like he planned on doing the same with you, too,” he said, shaking his hand out. “I have no patience for shit like that.”

All you could do was sit there for a moment, your hands still rubbing your throat, eyes focused on Cronus’s motionless body. The reality of it all hit you like a train; he was selling children. He was going to sell you. Maybe he had tried to last night. If you had taken his offer to stay over…

“You should get out of here,” Spider-Man continued, his head turning to look at the exit. “The cops will be here soon. I doubt you’ll want to get caught up with them.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Still holding your throat, you pushed yourself to your feet, unsteady on the heels you wore. Though it wasn’t as bad as it was before, you were still lightheaded, and you were silently praying that his grip hadn’t left any bruises on you, but you were doubtful. Without looking back or muttering a thanks, you stumbled to the exit, refusing to turn to face the man or the corpse behind you as the doors shut.

After ensuring that you had left, Spider-Man’s attention turned back to the mess at his feet. Sirens of police cars and ambulances sounded in the air somewhere around him. No doubt they would be there to clean up the mess in a few minutes, and he certainly didn’t want to be there by the time they arrived.

“Al, we’ve got a problem,” an electronic voice spoke up.

Sighing, Spider-Man brought his wrist up to look at a watch-like device. Though he was outfitted with the highest tech in Digi York, his watch almost looked dingy compared to all his augmentations.

“What’s wrong, Lyla?” the man asked, looking at a digital screen on the device.

“I think there’s an anomaly in the area,” the voice in his watch said.

“You think?” he asked, somewhat annoyed.

“Something is messing with my scans. I’m having a hard time telling what it is, but…” An orange light erupted from the watch, and several projections surrounded Spider-Man. It was a replica of the scene that had played out not even five minutes earlier. It fast forwarded through Cronus choking you, and through Spider-Man beating him to death, and it paused once it reached you laying on the floor. “There!”

His expression didn’t change much as he looked at the holographic version of you, but his jaw did seem to clench.

“Of course you tell me this after I already sent her away,” he grumbled.

“I told you! Something’s messing with my scans!” the voice defended.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Spider-Man sighed as he pressed a button on his watch, silencing the voice. The holograms around him vanished, and he was once more on top of that roof alone. Sirens echoed painfully off of the high rises that surrounded him at that point and he let out a choked laugh. “A fucking anomaly. Perfect.”

⌣⌣⌣⌣✧✧⌣⌣⌣⌣

Dark purple bruises littered your throat and the area behind your ears. Burst blood vessels in your skin created pinpoint red marks along your jaw and down your chest, acting like sparkling stars across your skin.. Truthfully, it was unsightly, and it was pissing you off because no matter how much makeup you put on it, you couldn’t cover it. You had spent the last hour shut up in the bathroom back in your apartment, attempting to cover any evidence of your struggle from earlier that day.

Eventually you gave up. Tossed the makeup sponges and brushes on the counter and tried your best not to cry in frustration. The only hope you were hanging onto at that point was that the lights in the club would be dark enough for no one to notice. You could only pray that they wouldn’t get any darker throughout the night.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and you could hear Nova carefully call your name from the other side. Taking a deep breath to get your nerves under control, you walked to the door and opened it. The woman met your eyes with concern as she instantly caught sight of your throat.

“Are you sure you should be going to work tonight?” she asked, eyes flickering to the makeup on the counter.

“It’s Friday, one of the busiest nights of the week,” you defended, slightly choking on the words. Despite the damage done to your throat, you were surprised you could still speak as well as you were. Not that you were going to complain about it. “Besides, it looks like I’m down a job for the moment.”

��Hun, Avi and I are more than able to cover bills for the month if you need to take a break,” Nova insisted. She gently pushed her way past you and entered the bathroom where she sat on the edge of the tub. “Shit girl, you were nearly killed. That sicko wanted to sell you!” She paused for a moment to sigh, almost as if collecting her thoughts. “Please, stay home tonight.”

A part of you knew she was right. You had spent the last few hours fighting back a panic attack over the whole situation. Would it have been good for you to stay home and relax? To feel your feelings rather than cover it with makeup and a wig? Certainly. But it was the last thing in the world you wanted to do.

“I… I can’t leave Lucia and the others to run that place by themselves tonight. I’ll be fine, I swear,” you excused. You turned your attention away from Nova and instead looked at your reflection. If you stared at her any longer, you were certain you were going to cry, and if you messed up your makeup because of it that really would have pissed you off.

“I’m sure Dom would set everything straight if he knew what happened… but I get it. You’re stubborn,” Nova said, standing from the tub. Her gold tattoos glinted in the dim light of the bathroom as she moved closer to you as she began to rummage through her clothes. “At least let me give you this.”

She pulled a small round object out of her pocket and held it out for you to take. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be just a plain round ball with a round chain on it. Despite its size, it was pretty heavy, as if it was made of pure metal.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning the item over in your hands.

Nova hesitated as she leaned against the counter. “It’s an EMP.”

The item almost slipped out of your hands in surprise as you turned your full attention to her, mouth opened. “What? You know shit like this is illegal, right?”

“It’s not like it’s a large military grade one, or something that I stole. I’ve been working on it for a while now. Deactivated my cybernetics more times than I’d like to admit,” Nova said, and though she had a humorous tone to her voice, she wasn’t smiling. “I haven’t been able to figure out how to delay the reaction, so when you pull the loop on the top there, it goes off instantaneously. Which would be an issue for me, but not for you.”

It was in that moment that you realized what she was trying to tell you. This was supposed to be a self defense weapon, something that only you could use. Everyone in Digi York was filled to the brim with cybernetics; everyone except for you.

“If someone corners you again, or tries to kill you again, use it,” Nova continued, an almost pleading tone to her voice. “It’s range isn’t very large, so you’ll unfortunately have to be somewhat close to them, and it’s not going to permanently knock out their systems, but it’ll be strong enough to force their entire system to reboot. It’ll buy you time to get to safety.”

“I… thank you,” you breathed, unsure of what else to say.

Nova put her hand on your shoulder as she walked by you. Her gift to you seemed to have eased her apprehension of the situation a little bit, but it was obvious she still wished you would stay. But having a healthy relationship with your emotions was something few could afford in that world.

“Just get back home safe.”

That night's color was green. It wasn’t something that The Koi had mandated or anything, but it was something you decided when you were choosing which wig you wanted to wear for the night. At least green would compliment the purple of your brusings, should anyone be able to see them. So you donned your mint green bob and emerald green eyeshadow coupled with your usual skimpy clothing and set off for the nightclub.

You arrived just in time to relieve the other bartender for the night, and you manned your station, doing your best to push any thoughts about the day out of your head. Luckily, that proved to be fairly easy as you were absolutely slammed with patrons. By the first hour your arms were already sore from shaking your mixer so much. But the tips were rolling in like crazy, and you soon had more credits in your account than you would need for the next few days.

Eventually the club fell into a softer flow. Everyone had their drinks and were then too busy throwing their credits at the dancers flaunting themselves up on stage. Every now and then someone would come up for a refill, but for the most part you were finally able to breathe. You leaned against the cool glass of the bar, doing your best to calm the heat rising in your body.

“God, I need a fucking drink,” Lucia whined from your side as she ducked behind the bar.

“You always need a drink,” you retorted.

“Yeah, but I need one extra bad tonight.”

She didn’t even bother trying to convince you to pour her one. In an instant her hands were on her drink of choice, and for a moment it almost looked like she was considering drinking it straight from the bottle. It was a decision she ended up not going with, fortunately, and she kindly poured it into a glass instead.

“Dickhead tried to jump Mellow outside the skyway,” Lucia explained as she took a quick sip. “You know, the cutie with the spine implant? Should’ve thrown the bastard off of it.”

“No shit?” you asked.

At least you weren’t the only one having a bad day.

Things grew quiet between you two for a moment as Lucia finished off the rest of her glass, and to your surprise, she went right back to the bottle to pour herself another. She was going to get plastered in no time, which you were certain wasn’t a good idea. Though, it wasn’t like you really had the energy to stop her.

“I don’t know what has everyone’s panties in a goddamn knot today,” Lucia said, setting the bottle to the side and turning to face you as she leaned against the counter. “I was trying to get my arm serviced today and while I was on the tram I… what the fuck is that?”

Lucia suddenly paused, her eyes focused on you, but she wasn’t looking at your face. You swallowed hard. You knew what she was talking about, but you hoped that if you played dumb she might drop the topic.

“What’s what?” you asked stiffly.

“Your fucking throat, babe,” she said, reaching a hand to gently move your chin upwards. “Did someone jump you? Who the fuck did this? Give me a name.”

You reached up and carefully pushed Lucia’s hand away from you. “Don’t worry about it, I’m good.”

“Give me a name and I’ll fuck them up,” Lucia said, her voice a bit more demanding.

“It was Cronus Onasis and he’s fucking dead,” you retorted.

That, quite clearly, was not what Lucia had been expecting. She took a step back, almost as if she had suddenly realized how much she was invading your personal space. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but all that came out was a stutter.

“Lucia!”

She didn’t even get the chance to respond before Dom’s gruff voice shouted at her from across the bar. He was a gruff looking guy, who somehow managed to be even broader than Lucia was. His plain white optics narrowed in a glare. Lucia looked over at the man, marching his way towards you two, and then quickly to the drink she held in her hand.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” she muttered before turning to you. “We’re finishing this conversation later.”

“Pour it out,” Dom demanded, his hands resting on the bar in front of him.

“Man, come on. I just almost killed someone while saving Mellow, just let me have this one drink. I swear on my life I’m not pouring another one tonight.”

Their bickering lasted longer than it normally did, and it seemed to be scaring away any patrons from getting another drink from you. Not really caring enough about it to get them to stop, you let them continue as you started to clean up your area of stray ice cubes and spilled mixers.

Eventually Lucia chugged the rest of her drink, in front of Dom of course, and stormed off back into the club. Either to throw a fit or finish out the rest of her shift, you weren’t sure. Dom let out a growling sigh as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

“You gotta get her to cut this shit out, kid,” Dom said.

“Don’t look at me. I’m not her keeper,” you shrugged.

“Some help you are.”

God, you were not in the mood for Dom’s pessimism that night, or any night, really. He was a stickler for the rules, which was nice in some cases, but not when he was constantly getting on your ass about things. Well, he never really got on you, but more Lucia, but whatever Lucia got into would always come back to you.

You sighed as you rolled your eyes at him, turning your attention back to the crowd in front of you. Eventually Dom left to go do his job, and you were stuck at the bar again, cleaning alone. Everything was made of glass, the shelves, the bottles, the counter, and so when it got dirty it was very obvious. The mirror that lined the wall behind it didn’t help that much either, so you found yourself cleaning it several times a shift.

The bruises on your throat had only deepened throughout your shift, and you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. It took everything in you not to grimace at the sight of it. The makeup you tried to pile on top of it only gave it a disgusting yellow-green color.

You should’ve worn a purple wig.

A figure moved behind you in the mirror, and you quickly turned around, forcing a smile as you greeted the patron, yet you paused when your eyes actually landed on him. Eight lenses that mocked spider eyes stared at you as the masked vigilante who saved you earlier sat at the bar in front of you. Was it a coincidence that he just so happened to show up at both your places of work that day?

“Spider-Man,” you said awkwardly, almost as if his name was a question.

He didn’t say anything to you, he just messed with some buttons on his watch. The device looked old, something that someone would’ve designed back in the early 2000’s, certainly out of place on someone as high tech as him.

“Here, this one’s on the house,” you said, trying to wash away your awkward greeting from earlier. You grabbed a shot glass out from under the bar and poured one of the house liquors into it before sliding it across the counter in front of the man. “Take it as a thank you for earlier.”

But he didn’t even look up at you, or the shot. He was completely absorbed into whatever was on his wrist, and you had to admit, it was a little strange to see a guy walk into that place without ogling over you or the girls on stage. After a few awkward, tense moments, Spider-Man put his wrist down and leaned his elbows on the table, completely ignoring your kind gift.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, tilting his head at you.

“What, like tonight?” you asked, taken aback by his question. “Like, ten? Why?”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his tone a bit more stiff than it had been after his altercation with Cronus earlier. “Don’t be stupid. I mean here.”

You blinked a few times at him, really unsure what to say to him. A hand reached out towards the shot glass as you carefully pulled it back towards you. He was acting like he already had too much to drink.

“Did Cronus knock your wires around or something?” you asked. You tried to add a slight laugh with your question to ease the tension, but his terrible glare (or at least what you assumed was a glare as you couldn’t see anything through his mask) was making that extremely difficult.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered.

Metal screeched on tile as he stood from his seat and his hand reached out to grab your forearm. It was right over the place Cronus had held you earlier, and you gasped as he dug his fingers into your fresh bruises.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you shouted as he started to pull you towards the end of the bar.

What god did you have to piss off to be manhandled by two creeps in one day? And you hated yourself in that moment for being so weak. It was the only time you ever found yourself regretting not getting any sort of cybernetics, or cutting off your arm so that they could fit it with a shinier and stronger version.

Once he pulled you out from behind the counter, he began to make a beeline towards the door. With each step you took you struggled against him, but your heels were sliding against the tile, and your flesh and bone fingers were no match against his hand on you.

“Hey pal,” Dom’s voice warned from the side of you.

Suddenly you were no longer being dragged. The sound of metal clinking against each other sounded dull against the deep bass of the music that roared out of the speakers above you, but it was an unmistakable sound. Spider-Man’s grip on you loosened as Dom hit him across the face, and at that moment you were suddenly glad that Dom was as good at his job as he was.

“It’s hard enough keeping bartenders as is,” Dom huffed. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

Oh no. There was no way in hell you were going through that again.

Before you fully registered it, you were running as fast as you could in your stupid heels out the damn door. The night air was breezy, reminding you just how exposed you were in your work clothes, but that was the last thing on your mind as you booked it across the skyway and into the next high rise.

Dazzling shops adorned with neon lights and lanterns fell into your view, each bustling with shopkeepers trying to sell handmade items, or scalped cybernetics. You weaved through them as fast as you could, doing your best to keep your ankle from rolling as you put as much distance between you and that cyber freak as possible.

Half way through running you ditched your wig as it started to fall down the back of your head. It was perfect for working a night at the bar, but not for being chased by some weirdo in a mask. A part of you hoped that it would help confuse him some, but you knew that was a crap shot at best.

Eventually you came to the railing of the high rise, and you paused for a moment at the edge of it as you caught your breath. The outer edges of the roof were abandoned for the most part, as the heart of the population were surrounding the shops in the middle. Glancing around, you tried to find the skyway to the next building. You weren’t sure how far you would have to run to get him off your back, but your head was already pounding, and you would do anything within your power to just get back home and sleep like Nova said you should have.

“I promise,” a voice spoke up behind you. “This is nothing personal.”

The blue lights of Digi York suddenly turned to a maroon as you were captured by a red tinted field. You put your hands against the field to find that it was impenetrable, no matter how much pressure you put on it or how hard you tried to bang against it with your fists, you were trapped. You turned around and caught sight of Spider-Man. The man who had saved your life earlier now seemed hellbent on capturing you, and he wasn’t even out of breath.

“Miguel,” he said, speaking into that old device on his arm, “got her. Can you meet me for pick up?”

It was at that moment that you realized exactly what was happening. Everyone in Digi York was always the same. People could claim to want to help others as much as they wanted, but there was always some sort of catch. A police officer being paid under the table, a company inflating prices, a hero turning on their citizens. It should have made you sad, it should have broken you, but you were angrier than ever.

It made you remember you weren’t as powerless as you thought you were.

“I’m not sure, Lyla’s been acting weird about it. Can’t really get me a good reading on where she-”

The movies lied. When you pulled the chain on Nova’s imperfect EMP, there was no big jolt of electricity, or sparks that spilled out of the devices around you. They were there one moment, and suddenly, they weren’t. Spider-Man was talking one moment, and the next his cybernetics gave out, and he was on his knees, and you were no longer trapped in that field.

“I can’t… I can’t see,” the man said. “Was that a fucking EMP?”

You didn’t have time to entertain his questions. One of your hands dug into your pocket as you tossed what was left of the EMP aside. It gave you one chance to get away, and you weren’t about to waste it. You pulled out your phone and pressed the on button, waiting for the screen to come to life.

Except it never did.

“Shit,” you cursed, putting your hands in your face. “Idiot…”

When you pulled your hands away from your face, you noticed that the area around you was much brighter than usual. This light seemed different than normal for The Blue. It was bright and almost warm; very uncharacteristic of the normal neon or LED lights that were strung up throughout the city.

Turning around, you were met with a light source that seemed to be swirling in front of you almost out of thin air. It was like it was a projection, a hologram of sorts but much more tangible than just light. And there was something else; a large figure in front of you, standing much too close for comfort.

You didn’t even have the time to gasp before a pair of hands were on the sides of your arms. Not even a second later you felt a terrible piercing sensation where the soft tissue of your neck met the muscle of your shoulder. You stayed there for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to not cry out from the pain. It felt like you were being choked all over again with your legs starting to go numb.

Eventually you were released, and you fell on your side, still facing that light source. It was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. Swirling colors of reds and lights shades of greens and purples you had only seen on bruised skin.

“I thought you said you had her,” the new stranger spoke up.

“She had a fucking EMP, I don’t know what you wanted me to do!” Spider-Man retorted.

The man sighed, and you felt yourself get lifted into the air. Every part of you was telling you to move, to kick and scream and claw like a wild animal. But you couldn’t. There was nothing you could do except hang there helplessly as you were tossed over someone's shoulder.

“Can you move?” the stranger asked.

“Yeah. It just forced a hard restart on my system,” Spider-Man muttered. “Come on. I want to drop this one off and never see her again…”

The light around you suddenly seemed dim, and a part of you became sad. It was so beautiful, but it was becoming hard to look at. Gone much too soon for your liking. You wanted to get your eyes to focus, to look at the beauty of it even longer, but everything was difficult; moving, talking, breathing… you weren’t breathing.

You had begun to wonder if it would have been better if Cronus had dropped you earlier. At least then you could have enjoyed the view a little longer before you shattered on the sidewalk.

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Masterlist

#miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099

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agonyaster · 2 years

Text

Brother, Oh Brother

“Apollo, go fix the blinds,” Nahyuta says, curling up even tighter. “I did it last time, it’s your turn.”

The only response he hears is the chirping of the birds and crickets outside, which is incriminating enough on its own. His brother snores like an angry flock of warbaa’d.

apollo and yuti beloved…

prefer ao3? read here!

…

Harsh sunlight streams into the room through the slats in the blinds, and Nahyuta winces as it hits his face. He curls into a ball and pulls the blankets over his head, but the light still bleeds through, burning into his cheek through the thin fabric.

“Apollo, go fix the blinds,” Nahyuta says, curling up even tighter. “I did it last time, it’s your turn.”

The only response he hears is the chirping of the birds and crickets outside, which is incriminating enough on its own. His brother snores like an angry flock of warbaa’d.

“I know you’re awake. Go fix the blinds.” Silence. “Apolloooooo.”

Again, silence.

Nahyuta sighs sharply and sneaks a hand out of his cocoon, grabbing his pillow at the corner and slamming it onto the mat where Apollo’s head is. Still, the only noise is Nahyuta’s own breathing and the stirring wildlife outside the window.

“It’s rude to ignore your big brother,” he huffs, sitting up onto his haunches and grabbing the pillow with both hands. Raising it over his head, Nahyuta brings the pillow down with the force of a dragon over and over again.

At first, he’s mildly confused as to how in the name of the Holy Mother his brother can sleep through this, only realizing that Apollo just isn’t there after an embarrassing few seconds. Nahyuta drops the pillow and crawls out of bed, all thoughts of more potential sleep gone.

He pads over to the window and flings open the blinds, squinting out at the rolling countryside. Apollo isn’t by the river, or the tree stump, or at the crest of the hill that overlooks the city. Alright, fine.

Heading into the kitchen, he’s greeted by the mud-caked soles of Datz’s boots, which are propped up on the table and crossed at the ankle.

“Mornin’ Yuty!” Datz greets, flashing a smile that’s all teeth. “Sleep well?”

“Just fine,” he murmurs, grabbing an apple off of the counter and biting into it. The juice rolls down his chin and drips onto the floor between his feet, miniscule spots appearing on the wood floors.

“I dunno, if you ask me, you look like you got into a fight with the bed and lost.” Datz squints. “Bad, too. You sure AJ didn’t attack you in your sleep?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Nahyuta glares at Datz. “Where is Apollo anyway?”

“I think he went out with Dhurke real early this morning. Maybe they’re getting ready for your birthday.”

“My birthday is three months away.”

“You say that like AJ hasn’t been counting down the days.”

“He has not.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Apollo can’t count that high.”

Datz bursts into laughter at that, clutching his stomach as he nearly falls out of his chair. After around thirty seconds, he’s able to breathe properly again, even though his shoulders still twitch and a laugh escapes him every few seconds.

“Man, Yuty, who taught you to be so funny?”

“Certainly not you.”

Nahyuta’s a bit worried that Datz will actually fall out of his chair this time, so he just watches, apple halfway to his mouth, as Datz positively howls with laughter. He’s sure every animal in a five mile radius just ran away as fast as they could, and Nahyuta wishes he could join them.

“I’m going out to look for someone less obnoxious.”

“C’mon, why don’t you just spend some quality time with your favorite uncle?” Datz stands up, stabbing his hunting knife into the table as he waggles his eyebrows at Nahyuta.

“You’re my only uncle.”

“Exactly! So I’m the favorite by default.” Datz pulls him close and grinds his knuckles against the top of Nahyuta’s head, not even flinching when the kid bites down on his arm in an attempt to escape. “Oh, and for the record, AJ’s just as obnoxious as I am. Who do you think taught him?”

Even though he wants to fire back something snippy, Datz’s forearm is snug against Nahyuta’s windpipe, and having a coughing fit is the absolute last thing he needs right now. So, for once, he holds his tongue.

After another harsh noogie, Datz releases him and pulls his knife up out of the table. “I’m gonna head out, so don’t do anything stupid, alright? Don’t need you drowning for real this time.”

Nahyuta rolls his eyes but lets Datz ruffle his hair on the way out the door and pauses to watch as his figure disappears into the underbrush. Once he’s gone, Nahyuta finishes off his apple and cleans up the mud Datz had tracked all the way through the house.

Apollo and his dad are still nowhere to be found, so Nahyuta takes the time he has alone to get dressed and fix his hair. And no, Apollo didn’t cut his hair in the middle of the night. He wishes Datz was still here just so he could point it out.

He isn’t, though, so Nahyuta opts to curl up in a chair, his dad’s law book open on his lap. Time melts away and the next thing he knows Dhurke is walking in through the door, a tired smile on his face.

“Get into any trouble while I was gone?” he asks as Nahyuta closes the book in his lap.

“Does it look like it?”

“That’s the thing, you’re good at hiding it.”

Nahyuta grins up at his father. “Who do you think I learned it from?”

Dhurke laughs, strong and forceful. The humor doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Where’s Apollo? Datz figured he was with you,” Nahyuta asks, peering past his father to check if Apollo was hidden behind his legs. He isn’t, and as Nahyuta looks around a little more, he realizes that Apollo isn’t anywhere.

There’s no sounds of him from the kitchen or the bedroom, no sight of him outside. Not even the imprints his feet would have made in the grass.

“I… Nahyuta, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

“Dad, where’s Apollo?”

“Please, Nahyuta, just listen.” Dhurke crouches, low and slow, like he was approaching a wild animal. “Apollo is somewhere better now, somewhere safer.”

“What did you do?” Panic seeps into his voice, trembling harshly.

Dhurke places a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder. “I- he’s going back to America. Things are only getting worse, with Ga’ran’s regime getting bolder. We have to protect those that we can… and sometimes that means saying goodbye.”

Nahyuta can’t stop the sound that crawls up out of his throat. It’s an ugly thing, filled with ugly emotions, a cocktail of fear and confusion that makes his knees go weak and his head swim.

“I know this is hard, Yuty, but it won’t be for very long, I promise. Once it’s safe for us, he can come back.”

“You just sent him there all alone? He’s got no one!”

“It’ll be okay, Nahyuta. Just trust me, and trust in your brother.”

“No!” he swats Dhurke’s hand away. “I- you took my brother! Y-you didn’t even let me say goodbye!” Tears start to pour down his face as reality finally sets in. Nahyuta’s knees give out and he collapses to the floor, hands shaking as he sobs into them.

Dhurke reaches out gingerly, but his hand is smacked away as anger starts to swell up in Nahyuta.

“Don’t touch me!” he spits, scrambling to his feet and stumbling away as far as his wobbling legs would take him. “How could you?! How could you do this?!”

“Nahyuta, please listen-”

“No! This is all your fault! It’s your fault we live out here in the middle of nowhere, running for our lives! Your fault my mother is dead! Sending Apollo away doesn't fix any of that!”

All Nahyuta can hear is the thumping of his heart in his ears, can barely see a foot in front of him with the tears clouding his vision.

“I hate you!”

He wants to run, wants to hide. Wants to hide under the covers and sob into his knees until Apollo comes in and leans his head against Nahyuta’s shoulder against him, squeezing his hand in reassurance as their breathing starts to sync.

But that won’t happen, so he just sinks back down onto the floor and wails. Maybe if he’s loud enough, the world will melt away for good.

#writing #ace attorney #spirit of justice #aa soj spoilers #ace attorney spoilers #apollo justice #nahyuta sahdmadhi #dhurke sahdmadhi #datz are'bal #ace attorney soj #ace attorney spirit of justice #angst #tags are hard all i know is that i love them

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Life on Hold

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Y/N is pulled out of retirement by Fury, and Bucky is the one to break the news.

Word Count → 2.8k

Prompt → ‘You must be out of your goddamn mind’ for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Hamilfilm Lyric Challenge

SSB2021 Square Fill → ‘Where’s the fight?’ - @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → 18+. Fluff, Angst, Smut. Swearing.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo & @fandomfic-galore // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my first time taking part in a bingo card and what better way to kick it off than with our boy Bucky and the trifecta of angst, fluff & smut! Hope you enjoy - comments & reblogs are always adored!

Firefly’s Masterlist // Star Spangled Bingo 2021

Fury entered the conference room at Stark Tower with his usually authoritative, no bullshit attitude and the black leather jacket flowing behind him. The Avengers immediately halted their actions; Natasha and Clint gave each other a knowing side-eye, Bucky and Steve placed down their coffees while Wanda, Vision and Bruce stopped their conversation, mid-flow, to turn their attentions to the director.

“Where’s Stark?” Fury looked around for the billionaire, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A voice came through the speakers, “I’m here. Just not here, here.”

Fury turned to the camera in the corner, “Stark, I suggest you get in here now.”

“No can do boss, I’m a little tied up doing good for the community at the moment.” The Iron Man suit’s HUD display appeared in the centre of the room above the table with Stark’s signature smirk, “I’m listening.”

The holographic display changed with the flick of Fury’s hand; Stark’s face appearing in the top right corner while the other information appeared larger. A selection of blueprints for a fortified base, images of various Hydra agents and satellite footage of the surrounding area. Steve flicked through the same information on the tablet in his lap while the rest of the team continued to look at display or Fury for further instruction.

“As you can see, we have collected a lot of information about this particular base. The only problem is that we are struggling to infiltrate it. Our agents have explored every possible way to get inside but it’s becoming more obvious that whatever is happening inside that warehouse is something for the Avengers to deal with.” Fury continued as he walked around the room, hands behind his back.

“What attempts have been made?” Steve asked, the stern tone of Captain America coming through.

The Avengers watched the footage that enlarged in front of Nick Fury; a group of agents moving as one through the dense snow-covered forest until they were repelled back twenty feet.

“That’s the issue. We’ve tried to go through it, over it and under it. We can’t get in so I need the best on this,” Fury pointed at the repeated clip of the soldiers being hit with the force field, “Romanoff, Barton; get reading up on those reports, see if you can find anything that stands out. Maximoff and Vision, start looking into what that force field is and whether you remember it from your Strucker days. Stark, I need you back here for the final briefing by 1800 hours.”

The four Avengers nodded at the director and left the room. Stark disconnected and the hologram disappeared. Bucky remained silent, watching Fury’s every move while Steve reclined in the chair, spinning it towards the director.

“And what about us Sir?” Steve asked, his body tense and irritation not going unnoticed by the remaining attendees.

“I said I needed my best.” Fury pressed his hands against the back of a vacant seat, looking straight to Bucky. “There’s only one person that can help us with this one.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened and he barked in response, “No!”

“He’s right, Buck.” Steve turned to him with a small smile, “we’re going to need all the help we can get. Who knows what’s going on down there?”

“You must be out of your goddamn mind.” Bucky pushed the chair back forcefully and walked to the door, yanking it open. He paused looking back at Steve and Fury, “and I guess, I’m going to be the one to break the news, aren’t I?”

The bell above the door chimed as Bucky entered the florist; he was hit with a multitude of colours and smells that were incredible but the one thing that stood out most to him was the woman tucked between sunflowers and dahlias with an older gentleman. His heart raced at Y/N’s beaming smile as she gathered up the flowers and rang up the cost on the register.

Bucky preoccupied himself with the assortment of blooms and the trinkets scattered around the small shop while she continued to chat with the gentleman, he tried not to listen in to the conversation, but he had to gauge her mood before he approached her, not that she didn’t already know he was there.

“Mr Lee, you cannot make those eyes at me when you’re buying flowers for your wife!” Y/N laughed, “send her my best and that I’ll see her on Sunday for the bake sale.”

“You’ll realise that I’m the one for you sooner or later.” The man waved and passed Bucky, leaving the shop with another jingle of the bell.

Bucky had watched the man leave as he thought of how impressed he was with the way Y/N had settled into this town after a few months. He’d always been impressed with the woman that had managed to retire and find her feet so seamlessly.

Without turning around, Bucky knew that she was now behind him and her hands would be placed on her hips, a sideways pout on her lips as she waited for him to pay her attention.

“Seeing as we only saw each other on Thursday, Buck, and if someone had died, you’d have called, what could you possibly need on this wonderful Sunday afternoon? Did you miss me that much?” She giggled but then she saw the seriousness in his face once he’d turned around. “Shop closes in an hour; I’ll be up in a bit.”

Bucky felt guilty for dimming the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, she was silent with a blank expression as she unlocked the door leading to her apartment. He’d never experienced the receiving end of the anger that was smothering the atmosphere. Of course, he’d witnessed it aimed at others but never at this level towards himself.

Y/N kicked off her trainers and untied her apron, slamming it down on the kitchen table. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, and her jaw ticked before she turned to Bucky. He leaned against the door frame and explained how she needed to come out of retirement for a mission, giving her the details about the force field that the SHIELD agents were unable to penetrate.

Bucky waited for Y/N to speak, he learnt long ago that he had to leave her to process whatever it was that was racing through her mind. Y/N had her back to him, one hand gripping the counter and the other holding tightly onto the knife that she’d retrieved to chop vegetables. She turned around and opened her mouth, only for no words to come out and for her to continue preparing dinner.

The pain and fear that flicked across her features were motivation enough for Bucky to get closer, he strode over and placed his hands on her hips. He felt the tension drop from her body at his touch, a sense of pride swelled as she leant her back into his chest.

“It’s been 113 days since I left. You can’t come here and ask this of me.” Y/N’s voice cracked, and her eyes glossed over as she waved the knife around in front of her, the peppers no longer being diced.

Bucky’s fingers held her wrist to stop the kitchen utensil from turning into a weapon and rest his chin on her shoulder, “I know doll, but you know why I was sent and not Steve or Fury himself.”

“Yeah, ‘cos they know y’all sweet talk me ‘round.” She scoffed and dropped the knife down with a clatter, turning in his arms to look at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers threaded through the loose strands while a smirk crept up her face, “and they knew that I wouldn’t castrate you either.”

Bucky chuckled and nudged his nose against hers before their lips lightly brushed one another, a soft peck and Y/N unravelled and continued with prepping the food. Stirring the partly prepared sauce heating on the stove, Bucky watched her form soften but he knew that it would be short-lived.

“Where’s the fight?” She whispered, as if she already knew but didn’t want to believe it.

“Poland.” He slipped back and took a seat at the kitchen table, knowing that she would turn around in an instant with another burst of anger.

And as if on cue, Y/N threw a tomato at the wall to her left, the juices staining the neutral paint as it slid down. She whirled around and pointed the wooden spoon at him, “I can’t believe those jerks! They don’t even have the balls to talk to me themselves and instead, they send my lovely, innocent and ridiculously handsome boyfriend to woo me into returning to the field.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call myself innocent.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Y/N paced the length of the kitchen in a few steps before spinning around and walking back again. Defeated with the inevitable of visiting the country she grew up in, she collapsed on Bucky’s lap. “What about my shop? Do they not realise that I have a business to run? I’m not an Avenger, I'm just an ordinary civilian.”

“You’re everything but ordinary.” His arms pulled Y/N closer to him, her head burrowing under his chin, “It’s okay sweetheart, Diane can run the place in your absence, she knows what she’s doing. We’ll be gone a week at most. I made sure to get a month of vacation off afterwards so we can do this place up.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, bashing Bucky’s chin making him bite the inside of his cheek. The blood filled his mouth, but he swallowed it down and cupped her face at the sight of the unshed tears in her eyes.

“Really? Do you mean that? Because being with you for one night every two weeks is horrible.” Her bottom lip poked out and Bucky wobbled it with his index finger.

“Yes, of course, doll.” He smiled and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Hold up!” Y/N pulled away from him, her hands pressed firmly into his chest, “you’re sweet talkin’ me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing gets past you.” Bucky’s head fell back as the laughter rumbled through his chest and Y/N stood up. He swatted her butt cheek, “get a move on with dinner, we have to leave in an hour.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She spun around, a feigned look of shock and her hand clutched to her chest. Her agape mouth dropped into a smirk as she leant forward, rubbing her nose against his. “If you’re still into this sweet talkin’ thing…”

Y/N spun on her heel and with a sway of her hips, wandered to the door. She looked back over her shoulder, “well, are you coming or what?”

Bucky was on his feet in seconds, chasing her down the corridor. Giggles filled the apartment as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air. He fell backwards onto the bed, dropping her to his side gracefully.

Both looked at the other, full of smiles and breathless from the short jog. The contrast of cold metal against Y/N’s warm cheek sent a shiver down her spine, and the way Bucky focused on her lips filled her core with want. The laughter died down and desire took over, as their faces inched closer and until they were ghosting over each other’s lips.

“Thought I had to sweet talk you, doll?” Bucky mumbled against Y/N’s parted mouth; his beard scratched deliciously against her.

In retaliation, she pushed on top of him, straddling his waist and feeling the rough texture of the tactical gear hidden beneath the hoodie, “well, what can I see, could never resist a man in Kevlar.”

Y/N ducked down and pressed a light peck to Bucky’s lips. He immediately took control, his hand holding the back of her head and deepening the kiss while his hardening groin rubbed against her clothed sex.

All thoughts of the mission and Poland disappeared with each item of clothing they discarded. Their minds focused on bringing the other to the edge of ecstasy with every kiss, lick, and stroke. Their bodies hummed with desire and need, entangled together above the sheets.

Bucky pinned Y/N to the bed, holding her hands above her head in his grip while he peppered kisses down her neck, and across her now beautifully exposed body. His hold loosened as he neared her sensitive parts, the mewling sounds above him sent repeated shocks of pleasure to his already stiff member.

Y/N couldn’t handle the wait any longer, her hips tilting up towards in demand of his mouth. It was oh so close but still far away from her bundle of nerves, “please Bucky, I need you.”

Not one to disappoint or let his girl beg for too long, Bucky teased her drenched cunt with his fingertips. She whimpered in response, pride swelled in his chest and pushed him to lick a stripe through her lips, tongue swirling over her clit.

“Fuck” Y/N stuttered out; one hand tugged on his locks while the other palmed her breasts.

Bucky moaned, the vibrations pushing Y/N closer to her orgasm. He continued to eat her cunt with ferocity. Bucky always marvelled at how he’d almost cum from the sounds of her moans and the taste of her pleasure. His cock ached as he rubbed the precum across his tip and gripped his shaft to hold off his orgasm until he felt the friction of her tight cunt, until he was deep inside her.

Kisses lightly pressed along her thighs and her stomach; Bucky didn’t miss a single spot, blemish or scar on her body. Her body glowed in the post-orgasmic haze, her fingers softly stroking through his locks as he hovered above her.

Bucky faltered when he saw her eyes glistened with unshed tears and the tremble of her lip, “Doll, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, sweet man,” Y/N cupped his cheek, his head resting into her palm, “of course not. I’m just scared of going back. Of losing myself to my past. Of losing you.”

Bucky let go of the breath he held, a small piece of him was glad that he hadn’t done anything to hurt the precious person lying beneath him but the rest of him filled with the need to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. And that is what he did.

He rolled to her side, gathered her up in his hold and pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, “I can’t promise that it won’t be hard. Going back there, to those monsters. But I can promise you that you won’t lose me. I’ll be with you every step of the way, like you have been there for me.”

Y/N clung to Bucky’s waist; her legs entwined with his while she let the tears flow. Her fear subsided with each drop, the caress of Bucky’s fingers along her arm and the sweet nothings he whispered into her ear.

Y/N packed her bag while Bucky returned to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. Even though he had developed incredible hearing, he couldn’t make out the Ukrainian words that she mumbled in between ‘Steve’ and ‘Fury’ or the slams of the bedroom furniture. But what he did know was that they weren’t going to be any terms of endearment to her former superiors.

Minutes later, Y/N had returned with an outfit change and dropped the holdall to her feet. Bucky’s heart thumped against his chest and a blush heated his cheeks as she winked at him. Even after all this time, seeing her in the black uniform always sent his heart racing and Y/N knew exactly how he felt about the uniform.

They ate the meal in silence as Y/N scanned the details on the tablet, both now brought up to speed with the latest developments from Natasha’s intel; alien technology being sold across the black market. What’s new. Bucky rolled his eyes at the information, there was always some bad guy with a bunch of weaponry, that they didn’t understand, trying to use it for evil.

Once again, Y/N disappeared into other parts of the apartment while Bucky loaded his black truck with her holdall and waited for her arrival in the cab. She hopped into the passenger seat and appeared calm, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he should prepare to duck for cover when they arrived at the briefing room.

Luckily for Bucky, Natasha and Clint pulled him aside to go over their new findings. Not so lucky for Steve and Fury, who would have to deal with the wrath of the retired Avenger.

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @avantgardium-leviosa*

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever

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If you would like to be added to my taglist then drop me an ask

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Star's Hamilfilm Lyric Challenge #SSB2021 #Bucky Barnes Fic #Bucky Barnes #Sexy times

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Porn

(a blurb from the My Girl Series)

…in which Harry and Y/N watch porn, but he won’t touch her.

Warning: smut (duh!)

AU: older!harry, actor!harry.

“You can’t go a day without my pussy,” she had said to him after they’d had sex on the kitchen counter. She’d only come in here to get some juice while he was making coffee, and look how she’d ended up, with her panties on the floor, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her chest bare, and his cum slick on her inner thighs.

She didn’t even remember how it’d started.

He stood between her legs, a hand on the countertop on either side of her. A smirk peaked at the corner of his lips as he considered her with squinted eyes. “Is that a challenge?” he asked.

“It’s a fact,” she returned.

She expected him to tease back like he always would, but he only breathed out a soft laugh and pecked her on the cheek. “Get dressed,” he said. “The housekeeper might walk in.”

They spent the rest of the day in two separate rooms. He had a meeting with his dialect coach then locked himself in his library to study and practise his lines. Meanwhile, she did some research for her new book and tried to write as much as she could so her agent would stop bombarding her with phone calls, texts, and emails.

After dinner, he got a zoom meeting with his publicist, so she took a shower first and curled up in their bed, watching a porn movie on the telly while waiting for him.

He came in an hour later, his hair damp, a white towel draped over his shoulder. He cracked an amused half-smile when he saw what she was watching.

“When you said you were doing research, I didn’t expect this,” he said.

“My next book is a Fifty Shades fanfic. Don’t tell anyone.”

A laugh crackled out of him as she placed a finger on her lips to ask him to keep a secret.

When he returned to their bed a moment later and snuggled up against her, his curls were dry and falling into his forehead. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxers she’d bought for him last week. She thought he looked extremely sexy this way. Biting her lip, she continued to stare at him, momentarily forgetting what she’d been watching until he asked, “What position is that?”

She whipped her eyes back to the screen and burst out laughing when she saw the couple performing an advanced version of Reverse Cowgirl, in which the guy’s hips weren’t even touching the bed.

“These porn movies are so extravagant,” he commented, now sitting shoulder to shoulder with her. “Who moans like that? Literally no one. The sex scenes I’ve done are way more sensual and convincing.”

She scowled at him, and his mouth curled. “Sorry,” he said though he didn’t seem very sorry.

She smacked him on the arm and picked another movie with more realistic sex. It was fun watching bad porn because they made her laugh more than they got her off. She wished she had stuck with that, because although she was exhausted, the heat between her legs would say otherwise. On the screen, the couple were fucking like rabbits on the sofa. They were more about pleasuring each other than putting on a show, so it was extremely hard to watch without getting turned on.

She rubbed her thighs together and stole a glance at her boyfriend, whose attention was on the movie. He was pinching his lips unconsciously, the thing he did when he was nervous or turned on. Weird. She was sitting right here. If he was hard, why hadn’t he touched her already?

She dropped her head to his shoulder and started tracing the tattoo on his arm, watching goosebumps pimpled his skin. It normally worked. He should have pinned her down on the bed by now. And if he was tired, he would let her sit on his face or let her ride him; Harry never said no to sex.

She would just let this slide if she wasn’t so horny and frustrated and angry. She leaned in closer, intentionally letting her breast brush against his arm. She was only wearing a sheer white babydoll chemise, which she knew he loved. It was astonishing that he hadn’t made any comment about it.

“Baby…”

“Shhh! I'm watching!” He covered her mouth with his hand while his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, his brows drawn together thoughtfully.

Surprised and frustrated, she licked his palm and he immediately shrank back and wiped the saliva onto her thigh.

She batted his hand away, her gaze skipping between him and the screen. “Why are you watching porn like it’s a cinematic masterpiece?” she huffed, tugging at his shirt.

He still didn’t look at her. “You're being disrespectful to these hardworking porn stars."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sunk into the pillow. “Maybe I should become a porn star so you’d pay attention to me."

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry, okay? For whatever I did or said," she said angrily. "Can you stop now?"

Still nothing.

"This is not funny, Harry!”

This time, when he softly shushed her, he placed a hand at the back of her head and stroked her hair like she was a cat. She knew he couldn't stay in character for too long. But this wasn't enough. She wanted all of his attention.

"When I asked you to watch porn with me, I didn't mean to actually watch porn," she said, resting her cheek against his arm.

His eyes suddenly searched her face, the look made her flustered. Arching an eyebrow, he said, "You told me I couldn't go a day without your pussy. It's only been a few hours and you're already asking to get fucked. Make up your mind, Bambi."

She jolted with a start, her mouth fell open. "I said it as a joke!"

He shrugged and turned back to the screen.

She continued to glare at him while he kept a straight face and began to comment as though they were watching a documentary. "Wow, look at that. Remember when I fucked you like that?"

"Arsehole," she muttered as a smirk crept up to his stupid face. She wasn't sure if she wanted to kick him or suck his dick. Maybe both. The moaning and slapping of skin from the video didn't really help in this situation.

Back straightened, she cleared her throat. “So you wouldn’t even touch me if I was naked?”

No answer.

She bit her lip and reached her hand under the cover to feel his dick over his boxers. He showed no emotions, still playing this game, but from the way he gulped, she knew he was destined to lose.

"You're hard."

"Great observation," he said smugly. "As you can see, I'm watching porn."

"Well, I'm wet," she whispered seductively despite his indifference. "And I hate to fuck myself right here right now because my boyfriend's a dick and he's ignoring me."

When he didn’t respond, she exhaled sharply and pushed his legs apart to sit between them, leaning against his chest. He let her do as she pleased but didn’t touch her. His hands remained on his thighs, his eyes fixed on the telly. When she pulled the chemise over her head and sat completely naked between his legs, he grabbed her hips only to push her to the side so he could continue watching. She stubbornly leaned left and right to block his view until his indifference got on her nerves.

She spread her thighs, draping each of her legs over his, her head tipped back on his shoulder as she moved her hand under the duvet and started touching herself.

At first, she only wanted to mess with him, but somehow this situation turned her on. She was gasping into the crook of his neck with two fingers curled inside of her. He hadn’t made a sound. She didn’t look up to check if he was watching her getting herself off, but from the way his palm twitched before he squeezed his own thigh, she knew he was going to give in one way or another.

She moaned louder, her free arm curled around his neck, her face pressed into his hot skin as she nipped the sweet spot below his ear. If he wasn’t going to touch her, she was going to touch him and drive him crazy until he lost it and had to fuck her. She knew how to play this game. And he was already hard, his cock poking at her lower back.

Eventually, he gave in. Not entirely, but he couldn’t keep his hands off hers any longer. He started by stroking her legs. She’d been craving for his touch, so just the warmth of his hands could make her flinch and pant heavily. He shushed her, his mouth at her ear. She could smell the champagne in his breath which turned her on even more. She was pretty sure the noises she made had drowned out the porn playing in the background.

“Slow down. Do not come yet,” he whispered into her ear. She shivered, biting her lip and giving a nod. “Look at you, Bambi.” She could feel a smirk in his dark tone. “Is this how good girls should behave?”

“You...were naughty first,” she argued, her lashes fluttering. The couple on the screen was doing missionary now. The girl was wailing as she came. Harry didn’t allow her to cum, so she had to chew on her lip and fight the urge to rub her clit.

“Why?” he asked in a fake concerning tone. “Because I didn’t pay attention to you? You couldn’t have my attention so you decided to misbehave?”

“You’re a dick,” she gasped. His faint laugh made her stomach clench and her walls close around her fingers.

“That’s not how you call me, love.”

Slowly, his hand made its way up up to her slick inner thigh and then he placed his palm on her lower stomach, not touching her where she wanted him to. Her breath caught as he grabbed a handful of her breast and started toying with her nipple.

His other hand curled under her thigh, spreading it to give her more access so she could do the work on her own.

She hated him. She loved him. She wanted him.

“Eyes on the screen,” he commanded, cupping her chin gently and tilting her head upward, his lips hot against her ear. “Remember when I fucked you like that?” he asked. “Just this morning. In this bed.” The girl on the screen was lying on her stomach, arse up, as the guy held her wrists together at her back and slammed into her mercilessly.

“Yes…”

Harry chuckled. He knew how good it’d felt for her. She’d bit onto the sheet when she came, wetting his dick. The memory worked better than the actual scene before her eyes. She arched her back and pumped her fingers faster, stroking her clit with her free hand.

“Stop,” he said roughly, but she didn’t listen. She fucked herself hard and cried into his neck. His breathing came ragged. She knew he was frustrated and annoyed. A triumph grin spread across her face, then she came hard, gasping his name, his massive hand squeezed her hip as he buried his face into her neck, groaning loudly as if he could feel it, too. His chest rose and fell unsteadily against her. His cock jerked at her lower back.

She didn’t have the strength to deny him for denying her. Now that she’d made herself cum, she only wanted him more. They both knew it never finished without his cum dripping out of her.

“You okay?”

She heard his raspy voice and tipped her head back to look up. His face was right above hers, his lips parted, ghosting over hers. His cheeks were flushed, and he was taking short breaths. He grasped her wrist and pulled her fingers out of her sensitive cunt. She watched him intensely as he brought her hand to his mouth and sucked and licked her two fingers clean while holding her gaze.

She couldn’t help it anymore. She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, her mouth opened, her tongue sliding against his, heat pooling between her legs as if she hadn’t just cum a minute ago. He only broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, and she wasted no time to free his cock from his boxers. He was leaking precum and it made her mouth water. She wanted to taste it. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off him.

“On your stomach,” he demanded.

She shook her head wordlessly and reached for his cock. He quickly caught her wrists and tugged her up so they were face to face. “Not now.”

“But I want–”

“I’d cum if you put your mouth on me, Bambi,” he rasped, sounding almost helpless.

She clenched at the words and nodded as she scooted toward him on her knees, hands on his shoulders. “Let me ride you. I wanna see your face.”

His laugh turned into an exaggerated, ‘aww’ that made her want to punch him. Instead, she shoved at his chest and he dropped onto his back, hands on her knees as she straddled his thighs. She reached out and grasped his cock, stroking him just once, just to spread her wetness over him.

“Am I a good girl now?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“I don’t know. Show me,” he replied with a smirk.

She hitched herself up over his lap and slid down onto his cock, so suddenly that he jolted and dug his fingers into her bum. She rode him hard, holding his gaze. The way he grinned with his mouth open made her moan and squeeze around him. She hated how she was the one riding him but he still managed to have the upper hand.

He let her have her fun for a moment before grasping her bum and thrusting into her hard and fast. She cried out and fell onto his chest, their mouths meeting with more sloppy kisses.

“You like this, huh?” he panted into her ear, her fingers digging into his shoulders as an answer while he fucked into her, taking full control now. She nodded wildly before propping herself back up with her palms on his chest. Seeing the ink on his torso glistening with sweat made her stomach flip and her knees go numb. He circled his arm around her waist and hitched her up, drawing a gasp out of her before his mouth was on her throat as he pumped her on his dick.

“Yes, Daddy, yes.”

He didn’t stop, but his hips faltered for a second.

“What was that?” he asked, dropping his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. She could tell he’d been wanting to do this all night. She gasped and clenched around him. She had really sensitive nipples and he adored them.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, rolling her hips. He met her pleading stare and groaned. He knew she was close.

He sighed against her lips but didn’t object when she got one hand between them, two fingers on her clit, rubbing hard the way he would. He loved to make her cum but he also loved watching her touch herself.

She came first, stars exploding behind her eyelids as he fucked her through it and cum inside her, hips jerking up off the bed. Curses spilled from his lips and her own as they both collapsed, her on top of him, his arms tightened around her waist.

She was pretty sure she’d passed out for a second or two until she felt the warmth of his hands against the cool skin of her exposed back. She opened her eyes, cheek resting against his chest as her eyes searched his face. His cheeks dimpled as their eyes locked.

“You’re so spoiled now. Always getting your way,” he said, breathless.

She propped her head up and pouted. “You have to let me win because you’re older. That’s the rule.”

He contemplated her face with an arched eyebrow. “So I have to let you win because I’m older, but I’m not allowed to call you a child when you act like one?”

“Correct.” She nodded and combed her fingers through his hair, pushing his sweaty curls out of his forehead. “I need you to include that in your wedding vows.”

“My wedding vows,” he echoed, his mouth curled.

“Only if I say yes, though,” she clarified, lifting her chin.

“Only if I ask,” he smugly replied.

She glared at him before leaning down and kissing him again. Suddenly, he pushed her away, fingers still in her hair but his eyes were on the telly. “Look, Bambi.”

“What?” She whipped her head around, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

He chuckled softly. “They’re still going at it.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles falling #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #my girl blurb #my girl series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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bullshxtvixen · 4 years

Text

Tease.

Pairing: Suga x Reader

Request: Ogeh but- Suga after you push his buttons all day, being bratty non-stop until he just snaps seems pretty *chefs kiss* - @nekxrizawa

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+, Dom!Suga, Rough Sex, Hair Pulling, Doggy Style, Spanking.

Song: Wicked Games - The Weeknd.

A/N: Shout out once again to @nyxdelanuit for beta reading this for me <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Oh man, if you mess with him all day, gently brushing against him, pressing your chest to his back, biting your lip or even just looking at him with that hunger in your eyes...it’s game over.

You want to tease him? Wear that favourite dress of his that dips dangerously low on your chest while you’re at dinner with the boys. Run your heels against his leg while he’s trying to eat, even after he’s thrown you a look that holds all of the threats you’ve heard before....

But just remember, he’s going to show you what happens when you play with fire....

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

You don’t even make it to the bedroom once you’re through the door. Your heels are thrown to the side, he couldn’t give a shit if they got damaged, it’s what you deserved after the way you’d riled him up all day.

He’s got you on your hands and knees on the stairs, the dress you’d been wearing now bunched up at your waist as he rips your underwear down to your thighs, exposing you to him completely.

“You really think you can tease me like that, and I’d let you get away with it, princess?” His voice is rough as he fists your hair, giving it a gentle pull while his other hand is landing a blow on your ass, your skin quickly turning a beautiful shade of red. He loved that shade on you coupled with the moan that fell from your lips.

“Fuck, Ko, oh god. Please, please fuck me.” You beg, your desire already surging through you at his dominant side showing through, just like you’d planned all along.

He watched as your hips pressed back against his hardened cock through his dress pants, your arousal leaving a dark patch when he pulled back from you. It made his cock throb at just how desperate you were for him. Such a needy little thing, but he wasn’t going to let you get away with teasing him that easily, he knew you’d wanted to see this side of him, but you were mistaken if he wasn’t going to get his own back.

“Now, beautiful” he learnt over your body, his hand tightening in your hair while the other reached for the zipper of his trousers, “I’m going to take you, right here on the stairs, but this is for my pleasure, not yours. If you cum, well...there will be consequences, do you understand?” He pulled his cock from just trousers and coated his tip in your juices before lining himself up with your entrance.

Your head spun at his words, barely able to get a ‘yes’ out before he was plunging into you in one hard thrust, his entire length stretching you out as a half moan/half cry was ripped from your throat.

You didn’t even have time to get accustomed to his cock before he was moving, his shaft dragging against your tight walls as your back arched into him, begging for him to be deeper inside you.

“Good girl, look at you taking my whole cock without any prep.” He rasped into your ear. His hand left landed another blow on the curve of your ass while the other remained in your hair, tugging your head back so far that he could lean over your body and press his lips to yours as his hips pounded into you with such force that you were sure you’d feel the effects of it for days after.

And that’s exactly what he wanted. He wanted you to be sore for days after this, he wanted you to wince whenever you sat down, so that you’d be reminded of what happened if you teased him.

That’s why he continued to slam into you with all the force he had, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the hallway of your house as the feel of your wet heat around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy.

“Fuck, princess, I don’t think I’ll last much longer.” He groaned as your cunt clenched around him, sucking his cock in to the point it was almost painful. Almost. “Ah ah ah, I can feel that pussy of yours getting ready to cum all over my cock...don’t even think about it.”

Then he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and aching out of nowhere.

The coil that had been tightening in your stomach began to loosen as your needy pussy tried to clench around air.

Before you could even protest, you were thrown onto your back, the rough carpet on the stairs digging into your skin making you hiss in pain, but you had no time to focus on that before he was hooking his arms under the back of your knees and filling you once again.

Your head fell back against the stair above you as he picked up his pace, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You blindly grabbed onto his upper arms, needing some sort of anchor as your mind was lost to the feel of him moving inside you. Each drag of his cock had you moaning as your back arched from the stairs beneath you. It was too much, you could feel the pleasure building up to the point it was ready to burst.

“Ko...I can’t...I’m going to cum. I can’t hold back, please jus- FUCK, oh fuck, please let me cum!” You cried as he pressed your legs further into your chest. It was his favourite way to fuck you, it meant he could reach so deep that the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with every roll of his hips. It felt so fucking good.

“Don’t you dare cum. Hold it in for me like a good girl, I know you can do it.” He could feel his thrusts becoming more frantic as he neared his orgasm, his body screaming for him to spill his cum inside you. He watched as you bit your lip and scrunched your face up, willing your own orgasm to hold off.

“Fuck. Shit, you feel like heaven, princess. So good. I’m so close.” His breath was laboured as he continued his assault into you. He was fucking you raw, but god, did the mix of pain and pleasure feel good.

You felt his movements become sporadic as his orgasm approached. In your dazed state you managed to bring your head up to met his eyes, knowing how much he loved looking at your face when he was fucking you.

The second your hazy eyes filled with lust met his, it sent him over the end. Three more harsh thrusts and he was shooting strings of cum inside you, the warm liquid coating your walls white as it filled you up. That was all it took to send you over the edge after him, your body no longer able to hold back as you came undone around him.

Your names fell from each other’s lips as you lost yourselves to the pleasure that rocketed through your bodies, every nerve coming alive.

“Fuck fuck fuck, yessss, take it all.” He hissed as he rode out his orgasm, his head falling to your chest as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before his body finally gave in and his weight pressed on top of you.

It wasn’t comfortable for either of you, but neither one of you had the strength to move yet. Your hands found their way to messy hair, fingers beginning to play with the cowslick at the top of his head as you bathed in the after effects of your orgasm.

You stayed like that until both of you had caught your breath, his head rising and falling with your chest as his fingers caressed your sides. It didn’t matter that you were still on the stairs or that he was still inside you, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, even as you felt his cum begin to leak out of you.

“God,” he mumbled into your chest, his fingers stilling on your sides, “I guess we should move.” He pulled back, earning a soft whimper from you as his cock was finally pulled from you as he tucked it back into his pants. You immediately felt empty without it.

He stood up, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Ko, I think you might’ve finally broken me.” You both laughed at that.

Your limbs protested but you ignored them and took his hand as he helped you to your feet on unsteady legs. From your position on the step above him, you were the same height as him, making it easy for you to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his lips to yours.

His arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. He smiled into the kiss stroking your back before reaching for the back of your thighs and pulling your legs around his waist.

“Come on, beautiful, let’s go get you something to drink.” he mumbled against your lips before turning and heading to the kitchen. He placed you on the counter top before going to the fridge and grabbing a fruit pot, along with a bottle of water. You took the water that he offered, watching as he situated himself between your thighs and opened the fruit pot, immediately taking a slice of melon between his fingers and pressing it against your lips.

“Open.”

You complied, allowing your lips to brush against his fingertips as he pushed the piece of fruit into your mouth. The fingers on his other hand began to absentmindedly stroke your thigh beneath your now creased dress as you took turns selecting pieces of fruit to feed the other, taking sips of water every so often. You relaxed under his touch, loving the fact that it was so gentle compared to how he’d been with you not even thirty minutes ago. Seeing both sides of him made you crazy.

“You okay?” he paused, observing your face, his hand stilling on your thigh. “It was a little more...intense than usual, i hope i didn’t take it too far.” he grinned sheepishly, though there was a hint of worry in his voice.

Smiling, you pulled him into your arms once again, placing a delicate kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Ko...It felt so good, it was amazing. That side of you, you know what it does to me.” You looked down, toying with the buttons on his shirt, embarrassed to admit the words out loud.

“In that case,” he paused, his hand reaching behind you to give your hair a harsh tug, yanking your head back so that your throat was exposed to him. You let out a yelp of surprise at the sudden movement, catching you off guard. His lips found your neck, his teeth just barely grazing your skin, “Did you really think I wouldn't notice that you came all over my cock?”

You froze in his hold.

In the back of your head you knew you hadn’t been lucky enough for him to have not noticed. Fuck.

You whimpered as his hand tightened in your hair, his lips working their way towards your ear.

“Whimper all you like, beautiful, it won’t stop me from punishing you.” His warm breath caressed your neck, his teeth sinking into your ear lobe, “I want you on the bed and naked in under a minute, if not, your punishment doubles.” He released his hold on your hair and smirked as your wide eyes found his.

“Go.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

DOM SUGA IS MY FAVOURITE OKAY!!! this was only supposed to me a little thirst post...oops. Also added a lil aftercare because you know he’s an aftercare king.

#suga #sugawara #sugawara x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq peepee #haikyuu blurb #haikyuu imagines #vixenscribbles #my writing #mine #text post #q

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bluefirewrites · 4 years

Text

T.Rex, Velveeta, and Other Fun Names

A one shot I made, thanks to @lydias--stiles and @blush-and-books.

We were talking about what Luke’s middle name could be and it sparked an idea for this quick little one shot (which is neither quick or little actually.)

Could also be read on AO3.

ENJOY!

____________

Lucas T. Patterson

The madness of this week all started when Julie thumbed through Luke’s journal and found her songwriting partner’s messy scrawl inscribed in the behind the front cover.

Yeah, it was his name, Julie would have griped about how illegible it was and moved on to whatever song she and Luke had been workshopping the day before and thought nothing of it-

If it weren’t for the fact that there was a flurry of deep inset scratches of pen scribbling out the space where his middle name was supposed to be, leaving only the ‘T’ unscathed…

“So I was thinking, maybe we change the key. I thought I was feeling A Major,” Luke rattled off, playing the aforementioned series of chords on his electric, “But now, I think we could really intensify it by flipping to a minor key-”

“What’s the 'T' stand for?”

The ghost looked up, confused, “Huh?”

Julie held up the inner cover of the journal, pointing to his name, “Lucas T. Patterson. The ‘T’- what does it stand for?”

It was a simple question, but all color drained from his face.

“O-Oh. Oh that?” Luke stammered through, struggling to rid himself of his guitar, the skull and rose strap kept swatting his face in his hurry.

She nodded.

He was across the room in seconds, back facing her, pretending to fiddle with the amp settings, even going as far as inspecting Alex’s drums. Thank goodness the drummer wasn’t there right now or else he would be getting a thorough lecture. ("Tell him to stop touching my drums!" extended to his bandmates as well).

“It, uh, stands for my middle name,” he said, still not looking at her.

“I get that. So what is it?”

“It’s nothing,”

Julie rose from the piano bench, traversing the studio until she was right behind him. She forced him to pivot and face her, “No, it’s clearly something.”

Luke gave a dismissive wave and a weak nonchalant laugh, “It’s not a big deal,”

“It clearly is if you won’t tell me,”

Then his head cocked to the side. He cupped his ear, “Uh, what’s that? I think I heard Carlos!”

“What?” She couldn’t hear anything.

“Oh, you need help, Carlos? On my way!”

“He can’t even-”

In a flash of light and warp of reality, Julie was alone in the studio.

“- hear you...”

Oh boy.

Now what was that about?

________________

Ever since then, Julie’s curiosity only grew. Why was Luke so evasive when it came to his middle name? What could possibly be the reason?

With all the secrecy and going great lengths to omit it from his journal, she was betting on it being insanely embarrassing.

Which made Julie want to find out even more.

Luke didn’t get embarrassed so easily, not much to weaponize against him whenever they all made playful jabs at each other from time to time, like the friends they were. Really it was stuff like ‘Beware, Luke this shirt has sleeves’ which basically translated to ‘Haha, you’re attractive’.

Which did not pack quite the punch.

She was determined to decode Luke’s middle name, if not to quench her curiosity then to humble the guy.

He couldn’t be attractive and talented. Something’s gotta give.

(And no, she didn’t often think about how attractive and talented he was… Nope. Not at all).

“Tristan?” she threw out while they were backstage at their next gig.

Luke tuned his guitar, “Nope”

“Thomas?”

“Nuh-uh”

“Terrence?”

He finally looked up, smirking, “You will never find out.”

The tech burst in, phasing through the ghostly forms of the boys, to lead her out onto the stage.

She inwardly cursed. Saved by the bell.

“Break a leg, boss,” Luke wiggled his fingers at her before she was practically pushed past the curtain.

Even when she sat down to play the piano, Julie could not get the image of Luke’s smug face out of her mind. Oh, he probably thought her attempts were just so cute.

Yeah, cute for now.

But she wasn’t done yet.

____________________

“Alright, guys. Help me solve the mystery. What’s Luke’s middle name?”

It was one of those rare occasions where Luke was out of the house, leaving her, Alex, and Reggie alone.

The boys had been present for her previous tries to weasel Luke’s middle name out of him, and they were amused for the most part- Well, never as amused as Luke ‘Thinks He’s All That’ Patterson (not a serious contender in her guessing, by the way).

With their reactions, and however many years of brotherhood shared among the three of them, Alex and Reggie just had to know.

They were all chilling in the kitchen, Reggie perched on top of the counter and Alex lounging at the table. Julie poured herself a juice, waiting on the answer.

The bassist straightened up, “Oh. It’s-” Then he stopped, face scrunched up in a frown of concentration.

Julie directed her gaze at Alex, who was ready to jump in.

“No, wait it’s…” He faltered.

The two boys’s heads snapped to stare at each other as they pieced it together.

“Dude, I don’t think-”

“No. He had to have. I’m just blanking,”

“Guys?”

“Oh my god,” Alex uttered, pushing his golden locks back into his cap, “It took us this long to notice?!”

They were now on their feet, sandwiching Julie.

“We... don’t...know,” Reggie winced, admitting it out loud.

“How could you not know?”

“I don’t think he ever told us!” was the bassist’s defense, “He’s Fort Luke when he wants to be!”

He made the gesture of locking his lips and throwing away the key to which Alex nodded.

“Now I wanna know!”

“Me too!”

Now this was a development. If Luke’s boys had no clue, then it must be really juicy.

Taking a sip from her cup, Julie was all ready to recruit two new members for the noble cause…

_________________

Julie, Alex, and Reggie huddled in a circle at the studio, all bearing notebooks and furiously whispering at each other and scribbling away when Luke decided to make an appearance.

They dispersed, making their collusion all the more suspicious.

“Luke,” They all greeted, with the same level of enthusiasm… at the same time.

The guitarist eyed them skeptically. Then he took in the notebooks, “You’re having a band meeting. Without me?” he asked, hurt flashed in his hazel eyes.

“No, silly. We’re having a band meeting about you,”

“Reggie!” Alex and Julie hissed.

That only added to Luke’s hurt and confusion.

Sending him a reassuring smile, she guided him to an empty chair, placed right in the middle, just beyond the coffee table, “Sit down. Please.”

“Okay?” Slow steps and weird stares later, his butt plopped onto the seat, “Can someone tell me what’s all this abo-?”

“Lucas Theodore Patterson?” Alex leapt in front of Luke, reading his guess off his notebook.

Luke’s shoulders slumped, seeing where this was all going.

“Guys, really? You too-?”

“Is it or is it not Theodore?” Julie backed Alex up.

“God no,”

Reggie was up next, “Lucas Timothy Patterson?”

The nose scrunch answered for them.

“Lucas Tyrone Patterson?” as was Julie’s turn.

“No flow,”

And so they were stuck in a circle for the next 20 minutes, everyone taking turns guessing Luke’s middle name, their lists growing more desperate and random as they continued, even going as far as borderline yelling the names at him- that was how frustrated they were.

“Lucas Troy Patterson,”

“No”

“Lucas Trixie Patterson?!”

“That’s not even- that’s not even a guys name-”

“It’s Tyrannosaurus Rex. I’m telling you. It has to be!” Reggie slammed his notebook down, poking Luke hard in the chest with his index finger, “Admit it! LUCAS. T. REX PATTERSON!”

“Boy, I wish,”

Their guessing game, once the last of the names have been recited, left all of them breathless (even though two of them were ghosts!).

On any other occasion, Luke would have been sympathetic, especially seeing how broken up and defeated they all looked collapsed onto the couch, glaring at him like he was the enemy.

But their fruitless attempts only made him all the more victorious.

“Nice try guys,” he patted each of them on the shoulder before heading out.

Best to give them a break.

Ya know, to deal with the defeat.

____________________

She was nothing if not persistent.

But Julie knew she might have been taking things too far when she had made the trip to Emily’s.

Look, she thought she could just pay the woman a visit, to check up on her, catch up-

Maybe ask leading questions in order to trick her into telling her her son’s middle name?

Yeah, the plan was flawed from the start because how could she so subtly direct the conversation to her dead son’s middle name.

Maybe get her to tell a story about Luke getting in big enough trouble that would have warranted the whole ‘yelling-out-your-full-name’ treatment? Which was a total stretch.

But she didn’t expect it to be the complete and utter disaster that it was.

If Alex and Reggie hadn��t gotten impatient and started snooping around Luke’s old room and digging through his things to find some sort of sign for his name, and if Luke hadn’t decided to intervene, creating all kinds of ruckus in other rooms for his mom to stop and check-

Then maybe they wouldn’t all be sitting on the Molina living room couch hours, getting read the riot act by Luke Patterson of all people.

“I had to tip over my aunt’s vase!!”

“Well, if it's any consolation, your mom always hated that vase?” Reggie chuckled before being promptly silenced by one look from Luke.

Alex spluttered, “But, like, you didn’t have to break it??”

“I did what I had to do,”

“Your mom was so freaked out!”

“Well, that’s on you guys,”

Julie just about had enough with all these games, she pushed herself up from the couch, squaring up against Luke’s unwavering gaze, “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Me?” he yelled, taken aback, “ You went to my house!”

“We just wanted to know!”

“Oh my god!” His hands gripped at his hair, “Why do you wanna know my middle name so badly?”

“I like knowing stuff about you, okay!”

Luke stepped back. Eyes wide.

That-

That wasn’t meant to come out.

Especially in the booming, shrill tone she used.

“Oh…”

Luke was playing with the sleeves of his oversized flannel, the air between them thick and brimming with awkwardness. It didn’t help that Alex and Reggie took this as the opportunity to flee.

Now it was just the two of them in the living room.

Breathing deeply to collect herself because it finally hit her- they were in a screaming match all because of a middle name . Like, Luke wasn’t the only one being ridiculous. It was her too. This whole quest to figure out what the T in his name stood for was so pointless.

They were fighting and Julie didn’t like it.

“And,” she cleared her throat, dislodging the unpleasantness, “there’s something clearly bothering you about it. Just… maybe thought I could help?”

Julie had been kidding herself. Messing with Luke might have been her initial goal, but what bugged her most about not knowing his middle name was the fact that even after all the time they spent together, there were things that Luke still wouldn’t tell her.

He was entitled to keep his secrets, yes, and she still felt bad for spying on him on his birthday. But, they were bandmates, writing partners, friends . She had confided in him a lot and he with her, and they just…

They always had this closeness. A closeness that she appreciated and didn’t take for granted.

And she had acted so recklessly because of it.

Luke nodded, taking it in. He didn’t look mad, but he understood. Julie could tell he was able to get more from her than the words she spouted at him.

“It’s, just,” his voice lowered into a self-conscious whisper, “It’s just something I don’t like a lot of people knowing...”

“I’m sorry. I pushed,”

“It’s okay,” the left corner of his mouth twitched, “You wouldn’t be Julie, if you didn’t” he playfully punched her shoulder.

She gaped at him in mock offense, “Hey!”

“Just saying. Tt’s not the first time you showed up on my doorstep, digging up my past,” she instinctively grimaced but Luke reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, “But I know it’s coming from a good place. Thanks.”

He really shouldn’t be so forgiving, Julie thought. But she was just happy that they could just leave this mess behind them.

“I’ll get the guys to drop it,” she offered.

That made Luke laugh, “Good luck with that. Reggie’s wearing Alex down. Now he’s seriously considering my middle name to be ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’,”

“If it was that embarrassing, I’d see why you’d keep it a secret,”

It seemed like Luke wanted to say something but shook his head and thought better of it. Instead he tugged her by the hand to the door, “Come on. You never did give me your opinion on the key change…”

_______________

It was months later when it finally came out.

They were in her room. She was doing homework and he was getting a jump start on their newest song, working side by side on the floor.

Her laptop was open, some randomly chosen Spotify playlist streaming in the background. All was well when the familiar chords of ‘Get Lost’ started playing, causing Luke to visibly tense up.

“Trevor,”

“Right. Sorry, I’ll turn it off-”

“No. That’s…” He sighed and moved into a kneeling position.

Pushing his already opened journal to Julie, Luke flipped it to the cover, where his name was written.

He pointed to the scribbles over his middle name.

Where only the T was exposed…

Trevor.

“Lucas...Trevor...Patterson?”

“My full name. Ba-da?” his jazz hands fell flat, betrayed by the quiver in his voice.

“Oh,”

“I, uh, never liked how it sounded. And you know how I feel… about things that just don’t flow right”

Julie did. For sure. Scrapped lyrics and melodies were often what happened. Never to be brought up again.

He continued, “My mom would insist on writing out my full name on my notebooks for school- Luke Patterson is already so generic,” and the first genuine chuckle of the night huffed out, “Never used them for class of course. Just to write songs.”

“Tre-Bobby,” she corrected herself “He would have needed proof that he wrote everything...”

“My old notebook. That had ‘Get Lost’ and ‘Crooked Teeth’. Made the mistake of writing it in pencil. It’d be so easy to just-”

Slamming the laptop closed, silencing the song, Julie enveloped the ghost in a hug. He melted against her, hands gripping onto her shoulders from behind, for dear life, the weight of the reveal finally taking its toll.

“I didn’t like my middle name before. Now, I just- I just can’t stand it,” he whispered into her shirt.

“I’m so sorry, Luke”

“Were the songs not enough? He had to steal my name too?”

The ache carried by his voice made Julie squeeze tighter.

She had no words.

What Bobby did, what he took from Luke, was more than she could ever fathom. She didn’t know what to do, what to say to him to soothe the pain.

She only held him.

For as long as he needed.

___________

"How come Alex and Reggie never found out?" she would ask him later.

"Didn't make it habit to show off my journal"

She frowned, "But you let me read it."

Luke, too, had no words in response.

____________

“Hey, wanna go on a walk with me?” Julie asked him out of the blue one evening.

Luke could definitely use a break, especially from whatever row Alex and Reggie had just gotten into. He nodded and took her offered hand.

They took a stroll down her street, hands still joined but hidden in Julie’s hoodie pocket (as to not make it seem like she was grasping at air). The sun was beginning to set over the hills as they could see from their vantage point in the park, their set destination.

Julie seemed to have some purpose for this random walk because she was leading him around until they reached a tree in a more secluded part of the grounds.

Whipping out a pocket knife, Julie replaced her hand in her grasp with the odd tool.

“What’s this?”

“For a while, I lost all sense of what music meant to me. I thought music was my mom. That if she’s gone then there’s no point in going on,”

“Aw, Jules”

Her sunny disposition shone through in a smile, “It’s okay. I had to redefine music for myself. Give it new meaning. Music is not just my mom. It’s my family and Flynn. It’s you and the guys” she shrugged, “It’s me.”

“I would have told you that,” A tender touch to her forearm coaxed an even bigger smile from the girl, “You definitely are music.”

Momentarily distracted by the compliment, it took a moment for Julie to get back on track.

“What I’m trying to say is. I think it’s time for you to redefine yourself. There’s stuff in your old life that you miss, but there’s also stuff you want to leave in the past…”

It dawned on Luke what Julie was referring to.

“That ‘T’ is a placeholder. You could go by a different middle name. You could do whatever you want. You’re a ghost now. You can… move on. So,” she revealed the blade and placed it in his palm once more. She nodded at the tree.

“Go ahead. Go give your name a new meaning, Make your mark,”

Grinning, Luke picked up on her plan and began carving into the trunk, his initials, all three letters representing his name, with each mark easier to craft than the last, imbuing more love and meaning into them, just like what Julie said.

Once done, he admired his handiwork, floored by how cathartic it was, to have his name on something that was gonna last.

L.T.P

He was taking back his goddamn name.

He beheld it with pride.

“I’ll ask again,” Julie leaned against the tree, tracing the letters with her fingers, “What’s the 'T' stand for?”

With no hesitation he said-

“Thundercat,”

“W-What?” Julie choked.

He lost it at her reaction, “You said whatever I want. I loved that show as a kid!” he giggled.

“Lucas… Thundercat… Patterson,” Julie so badly wanted to make a comment, Luke could tell. But she changed her mind, “You know what? If it makes you so happy then go for it. Who am I to stop you?”

“Nah, I’ll think of something else later on. But it’s my afterlife. I could go through as many middle names as I want, right?”

“Exactly,”

Luke returned her knife and thought she was going to slip it back into her pocket. Instead, she strode up to the tree and proceeded to carve her own initials right below his.

“There. So your name doesn’t have to be lonely up there,” she folded up the blade and put it away.

“You know that, uh, couples usually do that kind of thing,” Luke couldn’t help but notice that, with the way their initials were oriented on the tree.

A rosy hue graced the girl’s cheeks, “Oh...yeah.”

A beat of silence followed, just the two of them staring at the tree.

“I like how our names look next to each other though,”

Luke nodded, a warm feeling settling in the pit of his stomach and rising, “Me too.”

Squinting, he read Julie’s initials, “ J.V.M. What does the ‘V’ stand for?”

A devious glint sparkled in her eyes, “Maybe you’ll just have to guess.”

“Aw come on!”

She raised an eyebrow, “Oh as if you made it easy for me?”

Ok. She had him there, “Fair enough.”

The whole walk home, Luke ran through all the ‘V’ names he could think of.

“Julianna Valeria?”

“Nope,”

“Julianna Vanessa?”

“C’mon, songwriter. Where’s the flow?” she teased.

Luke snapped his fingers, believing he cracked the code, “Victoria. After your aunt,”

“No. But imagine how mad she was when she found out,”

“Venus, Vanilla, Vaseline-”

“Vaseline?”

They were at her doorstep, and he bounded in front of her, blocking her path, “I won’t give up.”

“I don’t expect you to,”

“Velveeta. Like the cheese”

“It’s Valentina,” she finally said, pushing him aside, fishing through her pockets for the keys to open the front door.

“You got Valentina while I got stuck with Trevor?” She lucked out in the middle name department, that was for sure.

Of course someone like Julie got shacked up with a beautiful name like Valentina…

“I could change mine too. In solidarity,” she said offhandedly.

“If I go with Reggie’s suggestion: Tyrannosaurus Rex then would you be Velociraptor?”

“T.Rex and Velociraptor?” she laughed in disbelief, finally walking through the threshold of her house. Thank goodness everyone else was already upstairs.

“From this day forth, I will be known Lucas Tyrannosaurus Rex Patterson!” he confidently declared

“And I’ll be Julianna Velociraptor Molina!” she repeated, taking much pleasure in the absurdity of it.

“Were you a dinosaur kid?”

“You saw my slippers and my PJs...”

“True,”

_______

Luke didn’t expect for them to take the whole new middle name thing so seriously.

But if they so happened to greet each other next time with prehistoric roars and with him tackling her onto the studio couch and pretending to bite her like the carnivore he was, then that was for them to know…

And for Alex and Reggie to remain confused about.

__________

Bonus:

And after some years down the line and one magical reincarnation later, Luke decided to change his name again.

“Patterson’s okay,” he said to Julie, “But I think I need something new.”

“Oh yeah? What are you thinking?”

Luke went down on one knee, in front of the tree they marked up when they were teenagers, ring in hand.

“Molina sounds pretty good to me…”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fic #juke #palina #juke-box #julie x luke #luke x julie #julie molina #luke patterson #for unofficial juke week #fandometrics babyyyy #almost had a tidbit here where flynn tries to say her last name but gets cut off #like why are we here thinking about luke's middle name #flynn and willie need last names

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Help in Three Phases | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - roommate!Tom x reader word count - 4,359 warnings - language, period talk, masturbation (f), use of vibrator, oral (f receiving), m/f sex A/N - idk I’m pmsing pretty bad and this is how I’m feeling so here we are

summary - Your period hits you in three phases, and after living with Tom for six months, he finally starts to catch on to what you need during each one.

You had been living with Tom for a long time, and you loved it. You got along really well and made the perfect pair of roommates. Growing up, the two of you had been best friends. When you wanted to move out of your parents’ house but couldn’t afford to live on your own yet, Tom felt it was only natural to offer up his spare bedroom. You’d only have to pay half the rent, and if you missed a month, Tom would have no difficulty covering for you.

There was only one problem that came from being so close to Tom, and that was your dating life. For years, guys wouldn’t approach you because they assumed you were with Tom. And when they found out you weren’t, they were scared away by the fact that you lived with him. It was completely infuriating. Yes, you had, from time to time, wondered what it might be like to cross that line with him, but you were just best friends, and you hated how much that hindered any option you had in the dating world. It grew especially frustrating during one specific time of the month.

You were two things when you were PMSing: irritable and clingy. Not a period cycle went by where you didn’t wish you were the weepy girl on her period. No. You were the pissy girl. You got mad at everything, and you knew you were the worst to be around. All of the problems started about three days before your period actually hit and didn’t end until three days later. So while most girls dealt with seven days of a period, you basically dealt with seven days of bleeding and six days of side effects. Thus, your period came in three phases.

Phase one.

The days before your period, you had cravings and mood swings. The first day you felt it coming this time around, you and Tom had just finished dinner, and you were eagerly anticipating digging into your ice cream that was waiting for you in the freezer. Only it wasn’t there. You felt your jaw and your fists clench in anger. “Thomas,” you started, “where’s my ice cream?”

“Hmm?” Tom hummed from where he was loading the dishwasher.

“Where’s my ice cream?” you repeated, turning on your heel to face him. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“You finished it two days ago,” he said.

“No I fucking did not,” you said. “I was specifically saving it for today.”

“Right,” Tom said slowly, “but then two nights ago, you got drunk and said to me, I was going to save this, but I’m gonna eat it now because -and I quote- fuck self control.”

“And you let me?” you snapped.

Tom scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I’m going to argue with drunk (Y/N) about whether or not she should eat her ice cream.” You groaned dramatically, slammed the freezer door shut, and stormed off to your room.

The next day, you were having a saltier craving. You were sitting in bed, watching an episode of New Girl, when you suddenly started to crave nachos. You pushed yourself out of bed and made your way to the kitchen, getting a plate from the cupboard and opening a bag of tortilla chips. When you opened the fridge to get some shredded cheese, you could feel your face grow hot in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled to yourself. “This is easily the most frustrating fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“What’s going on?” Tom asked from his spot on the couch.

“We don’t have any fucking shredded cheese!” you huffed. “How do we not have shredded fucking cheese?”

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled.

“You’re going to wish Jesus Christ was here if we don’t get some shredded cheese in this house soon.”

The next day, on your way home from work, you stopped at the store to pick up some panty liners and chocolate. When you got home, you set the bag on the counter, the sound of rustling plastic peaking Tom��s interest. “What’d you get from the store?” he asked.

“Chocolate,” you said.

“Chocolate?” Tom repeated.

“For me,” you emphasized.

“Don’t you know sharing is caring?” he asked.

“Right,” you said. “Well, when you develop a uterus, consider my stash your stash.”

Phase two.

The next day, like clockwork, you woke up with an aching back, a nauseous stomach, and an immediate need to use the bathroom. This was the first part of the phase where your lack of significant other really put a damper on things. You were crabby, and all you wanted was to be held and cared for.

And after six months of living together, Tom finally started to notice your shift in mood during phase two. It wasn’t that he didn’t know you were on your period, and he wasn’t oblivious to the cranky stage that came before this one. But now, he was starting to realize just how upset you got during your period. Yes, you were still cranky, but you were also just down in the dumps. He never saw you cry, but then again, he never really saw you. You rarely left your room, but when you did, you had a permanent frown etched on your face.

Tom didn’t have any sisters, and none of his relationships had ever been serious enough that he saw a girlfriend through her periods. So, when it came to handling a girl when she was menstruating, he took advice from Harrison. After all, he had a sister. And Harrison told Tom to steer clear of you and give you space. So for that week each month, that’s what Tom did. But you were Tom’s best friend, and he loved you. Seeing you so upset and sitting back like it wasn’t happening was too difficult.

So this time around, Tom decided to change up the routine. You hadn’t come out for your ice cream yet, so he went to the freezer, got out your unopened pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a spoon, and made his way to your room. He knocked on the door, waited for your words of permission, and walked in. You had all the lights off and the shades drawn, so you were only illuminated by the TV screen where New Girl was playing. “Hey,” you mumbled. “Is my TV too loud?”

“No,” Tom said with a shake of his head. “No, I, uh, I brought you your ice cream.”

“Oh,” you said, surprise in your voice. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he said, walking over to your bed to hand it to you. “Do you want some company or anything?” Your eyebrows raised.

“Seriously?” you asked. The tips of Tom’s ears turned pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bug you. I just thought-“

“No, no,” you said quickly. “I’m just surprised. You usually avoid me like the plague during this week.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I thought I was supposed to.”

“Let me guess,” you said with a grin. “Harrison?” Tom just smiled, so you patted the bed next to you, and he came to sit down, pulling the covers over his legs. You adjusted the hot pad on your back and relaxed again against the pillows. There was an awkward space between you and Tom, mostly because Tom didn’t want to overstep. It wasn’t that you guys didn’t cuddle, but he honest to god didn’t know how to approach you when you were on your period. What if he touched you and you just snapped?

But then he noticed how wiggly you were getting and opened his arms up. “Wanna cuddle?” he offered. You smiled gratefully and nodded, adjusting yourself again and cuddling up to his side.

“Sorry if my hot pad gets too warm,” you said.

“No worries,” he said, pulling you close to his side. “Whatever makes you feel better.” You nodded and nuzzled your cheek against his chest. Tom knew what kind of touches you liked best, so he moved his hand to the top of your head and started massaging your scalp and running your fingers through your hair. You hummed contently which made his heart feel warm.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you muttered. “I really needed this.”

“Of course, darling,” he whispered. “All you had to do was ask, and I’d be here.”

That was how you spent the rest of your free time during the week: cuddled up in bed with Tom watching New Girl. He made you dinner most days, and when he didn’t, it was because he ordered take out. 98-percent of you was thrilled, but then there were the other two. Being this close to Tom was fulfilling that desire you had for a significant other to be there for you, and it was messing with your head. You had been harboring a crush for Tom for as long as you had known him, but you had always been able to keep a lid on it. With him doing this for you, it was hard to stop yourself from bursting.

Phase three.

Your period was in the rear view mirror, but now came arguably the worst part. Because after your period, you were insanely horny. This time around, it was even worse. For that, you blamed Tom. And he may’ve been able to help during phase two, but no way were you going to ask him to help during phase three. No matter how badly you wanted to.

You got out of the shower and dried off, settling into clean sheets without putting on your pajamas. You kept the sheets off of you as you reached into your bedside drawer and pulled out your vibrator. It buzzed to life when you pressed the button, and you brought it straight to your nipples, running it over each of them until they were both hard. Then you trailed it down your stomach before pausing at your core. It was a rabbit, so it was made to stimulate your clit and your pussy at the same time. You were already clenching in anticipation as you teased yourself, letting the vibrator dance across your outer lips. Your thighs were slick with your juices, and you were able to slide the toy inside you with no problem.

Normally, you weren’t loud when you masturbated, but it took a lot to silence yourself. You often had your face buried in your pillow or your teeth biting harshly into your lower lip. That night, you were so far gone, keeping your moans quiet wasn’t exactly in the forefront of your mind. Your pussy was clenching the vibrator so tightly, and the vibrations were making your head hazy.

“Oh shit,” you breathed out. Every time you used the toy after a week of PMSing, you felt like you were in heaven. Sure, it was nothing compared to a real dick, but it sure did a damn good job at satisfying you.

You were sure Tom’s dick would be more satisfying though.

Then, you were picturing him railing into you, your face pressed against the mattress and his fingers leaving bruises on your hips. It wasn’t the first time you had thought about him while pleasuring yourself, but it was the first time his name left your lips while doing it.

“Tom,” you moaned. It wasn’t too loud, but you still forced your teeth to sink into your lower lip to stop it from happening again.

But the damage had already been done, because Tom walked right by your door when you said his name. He didn’t think anything of it, just assuming you heard him walking by and needed him for something. His light knock on the door caused your heart to race against your chest. You fumbled to get the covers over yourself but didn’t have time to turn off the vibrator before he came in. You gripped the sheets close to your chest and ignored the vibrator buzzing on the bed between your thighs. It was no longer inside you, but it was so close to your core that you were still feeling the shocks.

“What’s up?” you asked, praying you sounded chill.

“You called my name,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. You shook your head and frowned.

“No I didn’t,” you said. You knew you didn’t sound convincing. Tom furrowed his eyebrows but seemed amused.

“I swear you did,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again when he heard something. “Is your phone going off?”

“What?” you said, feeling panic settling in your chest. “No.”

“Are you sure?” he said, patting his own pants pockets. “I hear something vibrating.”

“Nope,” you said, then laughed awkwardly. “You must be hearing things, Holland.”

Tom could tell you were hiding something, and he liked how flustered you seemed. It was funny to him. He took a few steps closer to you, and your body froze. “What are you doing?” you asked, hoping he didn’t notice your voice shake.

He laughed. “What is up with you?”

“Nothing!” you said. “Can’t you just go?”

“You’re hiding something,” he said. “And I only know one way to get you to spill.”

Your eyes grew wide at what he was insinuating. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “No, Tom, don’t.” He ignored you and jumped on the bed, gripping your hips over the sheets and tickling you. “Tom!” you said, trying to wiggle away from him while still keeping your body covered.

And then, he felt it.

The vibrator buzzed against his knee causing him to stop his actions in their tracks. You were mortified. Tom didn’t look at you. Instead, he looked down at his knee as if trying to stare through the sheet to see the toy in question. You didn’t know what to say. You were busted. There was no way around it. How were you going to talk your way out of this one?

What you hadn’t expected was for Tom to grab your sheet and pull it off your body. You were frozen in shock as you watched him. His eyes were still fixated on the vibrator, now noticing that it was covered in your slick. When he finally looked at you, you realized his pupils were so blown that his eyes looked black. You were waiting for him to say something or even leave the room in disgust. Instead, Tom picked up your vibrator and turned it over in his hands, not at all seeming to mind that it was wet.

“Do you think of me a lot when you do this?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, and Tom surprised you by pressing the vibrator against your clit. A choked out moan passed your lips and your hips lifted. “Answer me,” he said.

“Yes,” you cried. “Yes, I do, Tom.” He pulled the vibrator away, and you whined at the feeling. He looked up at you again, and you felt embarrassed tears come to your eyes as you closed your legs and covered your chest with your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “Please, please just go, and I’ll never-“

“Open your legs.”

Your eyes widened as you tried to process what he said. You looked at him and saw he was staring at your body.

“What?” you said. Tom lifted his head to look in your eyes, and his expression softened.

“You tell me you don’t want my help,” he said, “and I’ll go. But-“ He cut himself off, needing to clear his throat to stop his voice from cracking. “-fuck, let me help you.”

Instead of answering him with words, you moved your hands from your chest and spread your legs apart. Tom wasted no time situating himself between your legs, your vibrator still in his hand. He licked his lips before bringing the toy to your cunt, pushing it inside you inch by inch. His mouth watered at how eager your pussy was to take the vibrator, and he imagined how tightly you’d squeeze his cock.

The smaller part of the vibrator pressed against your clit every time Tom pushed the toy inside you. He worked it slowly, and you were writhing on the bed above him. You both jumped when his finger hit one of the buttons, and the vibration setting changed. “How many different vibrations are there?” he asked you, not taking his eyes off your cunt.

“Uh, huh, 30,” you stuttered.

“30,” Tom repeated, like he was testing the number on his lips. “‘S a lot.”

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“You use them all?” he asked.

“Not all the time,” you managed to say. He pulled the toy out of you until just the tip was inside. You whined and tried to lift your hips, but he put his arm across your stomach to stop you. He pressed the button again, trying out another vibration. He kept clicking until he stopped on one whose pattern and intensity intrigued him.

“You like this one?” he asked. He sounded genuinely curious, but you were too focused on the fact that Tom was holding a vibrator against your cunt to answer him in any significant way.

“I like them all,” you said. Your eyes were closed, so you couldn’t see the smirk that danced across Tom’s lips. He thrust the toy inside you causing you to cry out in pleasure. Every time he pulled it away and the small part left your clit, you wanted to beg him to put it back. He always did. His thrusts were slow but rough, pounding the toy inside you so it hit the right spots each time.

When you could feel yourself getting close to the edge, you bit your lip to stop yourself from saying something you might regret. Tom noticed.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he muttered, pulling the toy away from where you wanted it most. You forced your eyes open to see Tom was biting his lower lip. His pupils were still blown, but his expression was soft, almost vulnerable. How was he the vulnerable one right then?

You knew what he wanted, and when he pushed the toy back inside you, his name fell from your lips. With a few more thrusts, you were cumming. You grabbed Tom’s hand and forced him to keep the toy in place, the vibrations destroying your clit in the best way possible. Your moans were so wrecked, and the way you called Tom’s name like a prayer made his already hard dick throb in his sweats.

When he pulled the toy out of you, he noticed the way your pussy clenched around nothing. He shut the toy off, and you kept your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath. You were so focused on coming down from your high that you shrieked when you felt Tom’s mouth on your core. “Tommy,” you moaned, gripping his hair in your hands. He lapped up your cunt, savoring each drop of your cum like he wouldn’t let any of it go to waste. He could tell by how you wanted him to use the toy that you needed clit stimulation, so he gave you that. He rolled your clit with his tongue, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure. Your thighs started squeezing his head, but he held them apart, growling in warning against your cunt. You cried out, begging him for something you couldn’t quite word. Whatever it was, he somehow knew, because he had you cumming again in just the right number of minutes. He let you savor it; he didn’t rush it.

You looked down at him when he pulled away, and you noticed his lips were coated in your orgasm. You smiled in embarrassment as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He surprised you when he started kissing up your body. His lips stopped at your jaw, and he pulled back to look in your eyes. You stared at each other for a few moments before you both moved a fraction closer to each other to close the space between you in a kiss. It wasn’t as desperate and needy as you expected it to be, and you hoped and prayed that this meant something to Tom like it did to you. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours. “You say the word and I’m done,” he said. “No pressure. No obligation. No-“

You cut him off. “Fuck me, Tom.” The corner of his lip raised into his cheeky smirk, and he kissed you again. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t surprised by the affectionate action, but you loved it. You kissed him back, wrapping your legs around his waist and rubbing your core against the bulge in his pants. You gripped his t-shirt in your fists and tugged it up his body until he pulled away and yanked it over his head, tossing it to the side. He sat back on his heels and tugged his sweats and boxers down at the same time, moving around to take them off completely. His dick was even better than you imagined it might be. He was the perfect length, and he was thick, the tip red and already leaking precum.

“Shit,” Tom muttered. “Do you have a condom?”

You sighed. “No.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ve got some in my room.”

“Mm, okay,” you hummed, pressing your thighs together. “Hurry back.” You moved your hand slowly down your stomach, then traced up and down your thighs. You swore you’d never seen someone move as quickly as Tom did then, jumping off your bed and rushing out the door. When he came back, he already had the condom packet open, which made you giggle. He grinned and got back on the bed, rolling the condom on his length with a satisfied sigh. You thought he would push into you right away, but instead, he brought his lips down to yours again. He didn’t quite let them press together, just hovered over your lips before kissing across your cheek and to your ear.

“Tell me, love,” he said. “What do you think about when you think of me?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he lined himself up, letting the tip of his cock brush against your clit. “Ah, fuck,” you breathed out. “Hard and fast. Choking me. Pulling my hair. Fuck-” Tom thrust into you without warning, giving you no time to adjust before pounding into you. He watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as your mouth gaped open. Your head almost hit the headboard with the force he was fucking you, and the room was full of your moans and slapping skin.

Tom surprised you when he pulled out of you so he could turn you over and slam into you from behind. He pulled you up by your hair so your back was arched, and you cried out in pleasure. “Yes,” you screamed. “Just like that, Tom. Fuck!” He pulled you up even more so your back was flush to his chest, and he moved his hand from your hair to your throat.

Again, better than you imagined.

He cut off your airflow just enough to make your head feel hazy. “You like that?” he muttered in your ear. “Fuck, you’re squeezing my cock so tight, you must love it.”

“Tom,” you gasped out.

“You gonna cum for me, darling?” he asked. You nodded as much as you could, and Tom pressed a little tighter against your neck. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” You moaned, your voice cracking as you did so. “Fuck, yes,” Tom said as you milked his cock. “‘M gonna cum. Oh fuck.” With a few more thrusts, Tom spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering as he finished. He pulled out of you as you collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. You laid in bed, your eyes closed, as Tom fell beside you. He took off the condom and tied it off before throwing it in the trash beside your bed. You were both breathing heavily, and neither of you knew what to say or who should speak first.

“Wow,” you finally said.

Tom chuckled. “Yeah. Wow.” You turned your head to look at him, and he did the same. Tom licked his lips and darted his eyes between yours. “So, what, um-” He hesitated. “What do we do now?” You swallowed thickly and stared up at the ceiling again. This was it. This was when you had to lie and say it was just sex, because you were sure that was what he would want.

Tom seemed to read your mind. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to say this,” he said, “but I really like you, (Y/N).” You looked at him again and saw how small and nervous his smile was. “You’re my best friend, but, but I’ve felt more than best friend feelings for you for a long time now.” You turned on your side and faced him.

“Really?” you asked, reaching over to stroke his cheek with the back of your hand.

He chuckled and mirrored your position. “Yeah, love. Really.” You smiled and leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were still smiling.

“I feel the same,” you said. He smiled and turned you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you again. He peppered kisses all over your face until you were a giggling mess under him. “You’re so weird,” you said. “How can you go from choking me to this in a matter of minutes?” Tom’s expression shifted a bit, and he brushed his fingers lightly across your neck.

“That was okay?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “More than okay.” You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled him close to you again. “Just so you’re prepared, my sex drive after shark week is always crazy high. And choking-” You brushed your lips across his. “-that’s just the beginning of what I’m into.”

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

add yourself to my TAGLIST

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #smut #marvel

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sundaysundaes · 4 years

Text

A Shatter in The Dark

Mark Lee X Lee Donghyuck/Haechan, ft. Taeyong | NC-17 | Smut, Fluff, Action, Angst | Zombie Apocalypse AU

Summary: A lethal virus has killed 90% of the world's population and turns 9.8% into zombie-like, cannibalistic mutants who are extremely vulnerable to the ultraviolet rays in sunlight. And yet, Mark Lee's number one problem is trying to stop himself from staring too long at the way Haechan's jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Warnings: Smut, Major Character Death, Slight Horror and Violence

Also available to read on AO3 here.

It’s strange, Mark thinks, for him to not be able to remember how it all started. Perhaps it’s a way for his mind to release himself from all the traumatic events he has gone through. Perhaps he’s just too scared to even begin to remember the details. Or perhaps he’s just no longer human—not like the way he used to.

“Just keep going,” he mutters to himself—a habit that begins to grow more with each day passing by. It doesn’t necessarily comfort him but it keeps him sane. He needs to hear a human’s voice in his ears, even if that comes from his own mouth.

He has stopped counting days, just like how he’s stopped taking three meals a day. Both for the same reason: to survive longer. His backpack feels heavy on his back and his untrimmed bangs stick uncomfortably to his temple, but he drags his feet along the pavement that’s scorching from the heat of the sun. His throat blazes just as hot, his lips chapped and he needs something to eat.

Back when he was fourteen and his imaginations ran wild from reading too many Stephen King’s horror novels before his bedtime, Mark once imagined how would his town look in a post-apocalyptic universe. He’d visualized the sky with no clouds and thunderbolts striking endlessly. He’d imagined the cracks on the roads with long, tall wild grass growing out of them, as they seek for the sunlight that is now shining bloody red. The air would be toxic, he’d figured, killing everyone who breathes it in without a filter mask and the seas would be dry, making water everyone’s priority and causing civil wars just to get it.

Now that he’s living in a post-apocalyptic world, he notices that it’s nothing like he’d fantasized.

The city of Seoul looks fairly the same, albeit slightly abandoned. Maybe it’s because it’s only been a few months since the outbreak, but the neighbourhood still seems familiar. The plants are unkempt, the bags of dust on the floors are thick in layers, and the pavements are covered with dry leaves. But if Mark closes his eyes for a few seconds, the wind still feels nice on his cheeks, the air still smells like how it does during the end of summer, and he can imagine kids running around down the street. He doesn’t though, because no one around him is alive. He hasn’t met anyone for God knows how long and it’s making him insane.

It’s a fucking ghost town and Mark wishes he could just disappear like everybody else. A few months ago, it was stated that the virus had killed 48% of the world's population. The outbreak had started in Korea as well but his government was trying their best to isolate the island. That was the last news he saw on TV before his mother took the remote control with a quivering hand and turned it off. She turned to her son, eyes trembling in fear, and said, “Let’s pray together. Our Lord will protect us if we pray.”

But Lord’s protection only lasted for two days before his usually calm neighbourhood began to turn into an uproar. The virus had infected one of them and it traveled fast.

Those who had weak bodies, Mark noticed, died within seconds and he witnessed with his own eyes how his father, who had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just a few weeks before, began to bleed from his mouth, nose and ears. It happened so fast, as if something invisible was choking the life out of him and he exploded from the inside. He could remember how his father was reaching out to him, his son’s name on his tongue and Mark stood there in horror, watching his loved one silently screaming in pain with bloody tears running down his eyes before he fell down his chair, smashing his face against the cold floor and gushing out more blood that seemed darker than the night.

Mark didn’t scream even though his mind was so loud; it felt like his brain was going to burst. He thought the virus was infecting him too and it probably was, but as he kept his eyes shut tightly, heart slamming against his ribcage as he counted to ten, he noticed he was fine. He counted again to one minute, then two, then five and he was still the same.

He was… immune. Or at least so he thought.

That was when he began to cry. And when he thought he would stop crying, he cried even harder with his hand pressed against his chest and his mouth desperately gasping for air. He glanced at the way his father’s lifeless body began to rot as if his corpse had been there for days and felt his stomach hurl.

Mark scrambled to his feet, ran upstairs to reach the room at the end of the corridor, praying frantically for his mother to be alive. And when he found her body lying on the bed, he wasn’t sure whether she was. Her body was still warm, her chest was still heaving up and down with the slow breaths she was taking, but no matter how much he tried to shake her awake, she wouldn’t budge. No matter how much he screamed her name, she wouldn’t reply. And no matter how much he cried, she wouldn’t hug him to soothe down his pain.

Hours passed by with Mark sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at his mother with lifeless eyes, and he realized that his surrounding was quiet. Eerily so. Even the dogs no longer barked. He took a look out of the window and shuddered at the sight. Most of the people he knew from when he was still a child, were lying on the streets with bloody faces, mirroring the way his father was on his kitchen’s floor. With shivering hands, he tried to call the police with his cellphone but he couldn’t get connected. The signal was down, both the tv and his radio no longer worked and it just really hit him that the world was ending.

It took him another hour to process everything, but only a minute for him to finally get up to his feet and walk downstairs. He had a shovel in his hand, and dried tears lining his cheeks.

He began to dig.

***

“Sorry for barging in,” Mark calls, but not hoping for an answer, after he kicked the front door open. The wooden floor creaks under his step, and it rings loudly in this empty neighbourhood that he’s not familiar with. But at this point, anywhere looks the same.

He knows he’s not the only person living in the world. If he’s immune to the virus, then there must be someone else—maybe even a colony—who survive as well. He just needs to find them. He always hopes that he gets to meet someone as he wanders from one house to another, but months have passed and he hasn’t seen a single soul except those who lurk in the night. Those with cloudy white eyes and rotten skin, snarling at the thought of consuming human’s flesh. Those he sees a lot, and he’s been trying his best to avoid them at all cost.

These creatures that wander after the sunsets are something that fourteen-year-old Mark would most likely call zombies. They used to be the monsters of his worst nightmares but after witnessing them with his own eyes, even standing up against one of them once in the battle of his life, Mark noticed that they were not as terrible as he’d guessed. Though they look human, they no longer have the sense of smell as they used to and they simply move based on instincts, triggered by the movements of their prey. But they’re freakishly strong and fast, and even though Mark’s pretty capable of handling his own fight during high school, these creatures can easily break his arm and leg at the same time before Mark can even begin. So he survives by keeping a safe distance, shooting them in the heads or right in their hearts—because those two are their only weaknesses—before they even notice him being there and just does his best to hide during night time.

Mark breathes in and curls his fingers tightly around his handgun. It’s really a blessing, he supposes, that he managed to find a handgun with enough amount of bullets in the drawer of his neighbour’s house. And he really does thank the Lord for giving him the chance to learn how to hunt birds back when he was young with his father during summer. He may lack physical strength, but he’s fast on his feet and good with his eyes. Combined with luck, it’s the very reason he’s survived all these months by himself.

Mark avoids dark places where the sunlight can’t reach at all cost, so he usually doesn’t barge into a house with wooden boards covering its windows and doors like this but he’s starving and this was the closest place available that he could get on foot. Maybe someone used to live here, hiding from them by making a temporary fortress of their own house.

He tries calling again, hoping that someone is still alive but he huffs in disappointment when nobody answers. “Better luck next time, Mark.”

He carefully looks around, making sure he’s safe and alone in the house as he steps toward the kitchen. When he’s certain that everything is under control, he places his gun on the kitchen’s counter and begins to check the drawers, taking every canned food and water bottle he can find into his backpack. He’s so happy to finally find something he’s been dying to drink—a canned watermelon juice—when an arm suddenly circles around his neck and a tip of a spear point knife pressed against his throat.

“Don’t move.”

It takes a few seconds for Mark’s brain to process that it’s a human voice and it’s already sending a relieved, almost joyful feeling all over his body before it finally sinks that this human is now about to slice his throat open with his knife.

“Don’t you think it’s impolite to barge into someone’s house and steal their food?” The human—a man with a voice sounding young enough to be around his age or perhaps younger—asks with a poisonous tone laced on his tongue. “Step away from the counter.”

But despite his snarky tone, Mark can tell he’s nervous from the way he breathes rather raggedly behind him. Mark has learned some basic hand-to-hand combat techniques during his scouting days and he figures he knows how to struggle himself free. He’s just lacking some practices, that’s all.

Well, there’s always a first for everything.

Elbowing the other man hard on the stomach, Mark dips his head down, freeing himself from the other man’s hold and lurches forward to snatch back his gun. Mark already has his gun in his hand but the man steps faster before he can point it to his face. He knees Mark on his stomach, pushing the air out of his lungs and shoves him down to the floor, face first. He punches the gun out of his hand, turns Mark’s body around and straddles him by the waist. Grabbing him by the collar of his black shirt, he lifts Mark’s head high enough in the air so they’re face-to-face.

“Do you want to die, you little shit?!” He screams, knife pressing hard against Mark’s throat that it begins to draw blood. Mark winces from the pain but he takes a moment to see the other man’s face.

He’s young, probably is younger than he is, with a mop of messy ash grey with new brown strands growing at the roots. He has his bangs falling over his big, round chocolate dark eyes. His skin is sun-kissed, and though he sprouts expletives from his mouth, his voice is thin and a bit high-pitched. His features are a bit soft compared to his attitude, and it’s the way he stares at him that stops Mark from moving.

This young man looks terrified beyond belief.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, and he genuinely does feel so. “I wasn’t aware that someone was in the house.”

“I think I made that clear before when I told you to not fucking move.”

“You’re right. I guess my instincts just kicked in. Wouldn’t you have done the same thing, though?”

He opens his mouth to retort but loses his words, and Mark smiles a little at him, earning a low growl and another shout from the other man. “Don’t you get all smart with me. Come here!”

Mark is being dragged down across the room by the back of his shirt, until the man finds himself a rope and ties Mark’s hands together behind his back. He pushes Mark down to the floor, tucks his knife safely to the back of his jeans and stares down at him with cautious eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Mark Lee.”

“You’re weak and skinny as fuck. How are you still alive?”

“I don’t know. Lucky, I guess?”

“Lucky—“ He seems shocked at the nonchalant shrug Mark is showing him. “You’ve never met any of them, have you?”

“You mean other people?”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course Mark knows what he’s referring to. He just doesn’t want to talk about it. “I don’t go out at night,” he says, slightly shivering at the thought of doing so.

“No shit, Sherlock,” He mocks, squatting in front of him so they’re eye-to-eye. “Now if I haven’t made it clear before, this house is too small for both of us. I suggest you leave.”

That’s a generous offer considering Mark did barge in without permission to steal his things, but it’s been so long for Mark to finally see another human—one that does not bleed from their face or tries to eat him alive inch by inch—so he stays still and just gazes at him.

“What are you looking at, you little shit?”

“Are you alone?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you want to come together with me?” Mark asks, and before the other man looks disgusted with his generous offer, he adds, “Judging by the food you have left, you can only stay here for three days at most.”

“Longer than if I come with you, I’m sure.”

“Fair enough,” Mark chuckles and he’s surprised by his own voice. “But you never know, though. We’re stronger in numbers.”

“We’ll be targeted more in numbers.”

“I know how to hide,” Mark assures, and it sounds like a promise, which again, kind of surprises him. “I can keep you safe.”

“I literally just whooped your ass.”

“But I’ve survived this far. Trust me. It’s better if we stick together.”

It’s perhaps the certain, confident look in Mark’s eyes that makes the other man contemplates in silence, or maybe just something else entirely because he asks, “What kind of shit have you been through?”

Mark blinks. “Just like everybody else, I suppose.”

Mark can tell that he doesn’t agree with what he says, nor does he trust him, but Mark smiles again at him and asks, “Can you tell me your name? Or should I start calling you ‘little shit’ as well?”

“You’re not very cute, are you?” The man sighs, running a hand through his hair. It looks kind of fluffy, Mark notices, like a furry dog’s coat, as if he washes his hair regularly. And maybe he does, judging by the honey-like scent that comes from him. That’s probably why he lost the battle. He was distracted. “Just call me Haechan.”

“That’s your real name?”

“That’s just how they call me.” He glooms a bit. “Used to, anyway.”

“Well, you can call me Mark.”

“Nah, I’m just gonna keep calling you ‘little shit’.”

“You’re not very cute, are you?” Mark throws back his words at him.

“I’ll grow on you,” he replies, smirking at him and Mark feels dazed for a second—maybe because he got his head slammed against the floor earlier. Maybe.

“All right, Haechannie. Can I call you that?” Haechan grimaces but Mark continues nonetheless. “Haechannie, if it’s okay with you, I’m starving.”

Haechan stands up, looking at him with a bewildered look on his face. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

***

It’s funny how different it is to make friends during the time when everything is okay compared to when it’s at the end of the world but Mark is enjoying Haechan’s company more than he thought he would. It’s true that he’s not the easiest person to be friends with but when you haven’t met someone alive for months, you’d take anyone you could get—even if that person is a devil in disguise who practically spits fire every time he talks.

Haechan, Mark learns after spending an entire week with him, is the type of person who says mean things but doesn’t really mean it. Who laughs when he’s hurting inside. Who bites back with venom when someone insults him in the slightest way. But also, who sees and cares deeply for others even when he, himself, is needing help.

Mark can tell with the way Haechan secretly throws a blanket over him whenever Mark falls deep asleep on the couch. Or with the way he casually glides a warm cup of coffee down the table for Mark to catch every morning. Or simply by saying, “Watch your steps,” or “Be careful, you idiot,” whenever Mark goes out of the house to find some food and supplies during the day.

After three more days have passed, Mark insists for both of them to move out and Haechan finally agrees, saying, “I hate this house anyway,” even though his eyes do a double-take before he closes the front door.

“Is this your house?” Mark finally asks and he feels sorry for dragging him along like this but it’s for the sake of their safety.

Haechan, to Mark’s surprise, shakes his head and only mumbles, “Just had some memory with it.”

Mark slings an arm around his shoulders. “Then let’s just make another one. A much more fun one.”

Haechan smiles, but it’s bitter.

***

“I can’t believe you’ve never even tried to drive a car,” Haechan says, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple as he tries to hotwire a car. His black sleeveless shirt is sticking to his skin, and his plump cheeks are painted with tints of red from the heat. Mark has to remind himself to look away before he stares too long at how the muscles on his upper arm flex whenever he hammers a flathead screwdriver into a keyhole.

They had to choose between an Audi and a Wrangler, and Mark loved the Audi and Haechan probably did too but he always picked the opposite of Mark’s choice to spite him so they ended up with an eight-year-old Wrangler with a lot of scratches on the side.

“Well, I love walking.”

“What a load of bullshit, Mark.”

“What—it’s true! And also, it’s expensive, okay? I don’t steal expensive things. It makes me feel guilty.” Mark tries to add some common sense which makes Haechan roll his eyes in return. “Besides, I don’t have a driving license yet.”

“Neither do I, wimp, but I still drive.” He chucks out his screwdriver with a proud smirk on his face. The car’s engine is running loud—too loud for Mark’s liking but as long as it’s daylight, they should be fine.

“Driving without a license is irresponsible.” Mark puts his seatbelt on as he sits next to him on the front seat with his backpack tucked between his legs. “And dangerous.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re right, I better stop before I get arrested by the nonexistent police officers around here.”

Mark sighs. There’s no winning an argument against this kid. They bicker more often than not, and just when they reach the end of their bickering, they will bicker again over a new topic and it really just goes endlessly but Mark is enjoying every second of it.

Haechan drives like a mad man to the point that Mark has to close his eyes and swallow the vomit that’s about to erupt from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, Haechan-ah, shouldn’t you slow down a bit?!”

“Why, because there’s traffic ahead?” Haechan snickers, turning the car window next to him all the way down and smiling as the wind ruffles his hair. “Loosen up a little, Canada, you need to live and enjoy the moment.”

Mark wheezes and almost faints when Haechan suddenly makes a u-turn just for fun before he steps on the gas again, blasting through the empty road. They’re now crossing the Seongsu Bridge, which overlooks the infamous Han River and weirdly enough, the entire place is empty—not even one car in sight—and Mark remembers how the government tried to isolate the country and lock people in their own houses to contain the outbreak. That’s probably why.

“I am trying to live,” Mark says as he clutches his seatbelt tightly with both hands. “Which is the more reason why you should be care—BRAKES, HIT THE BRAKES!”

And Haechan does, almost at the last moment before their jeep jumps into the river. The rest of the bridge has collapsed and Haechan was too busy looking at how clear and big the river was to notice the part where they’re about to fall off the edge.

Well, fuck, Mark thinks, so this is why there are no cars around.

Mark looks at Haechan with the most menacing, sadistic glare he’s ever made in his life. The younger man, in return, only grins mischievously and says, “Oops?”

They begin their search for a place to stay with Mark sitting behind the wheel this time. Haechan constantly whines and whines and whines about his driving not because he’s bad at it—he’s actually pretty good though Haechan won’t admit—but because he’s too fucking slow.

“Who the fuck drives twenty miles-per-hour on an empty street?!”

“People who nearly died from driving too fast, that’s who.”

“I hate you.”

“I’ll grow on you.”

They take a stop at the gas station to fill up the tank and Haechan steals three bags of Cheetos, four bottles of beer for himself and one bottle of mineral water for Mark because you’re the designated driver and Mark punches him on the shoulder.

***

“This house is nice.” Haechan settles down on the leather-clad sofa, throwing his bag on the floor and propping his legs on the table. “I think we should just stay here and never move out. Ever.”

It is a nice house. It’s not particularly huge, and it doesn’t have a second floor or a balcony which is completely fine. It’s safer that way, and it also has a basement with a comfy couch, a pile of board games, and a wine cellar. They can really use that to hide during critical moments, but he better checks it thoroughly first because again, those… things really enjoy dark places.

“We’ll see about that,” Mark responses, exhaling in relief when he’s sure that the place is safe. No zombies in sight. No trace of blood or human flesh. Just a nice, warm house with ultra-wide flat-screen TV and the latest version of PlayStation. Yeah, they probably should just stay here forever.

“Haechannie,” Mark starts but finishes early when he sees the young man sleeping with his puffy lips slightly parted. Mark smiles, he must’ve been so tired. They have been wandering for hours after all, trying to look for the best place to stay. But the sun is setting, and they have to cover all the windows and the doors to make sure that the zombies won’t be able to hear their voices or see their movements during the night.

“Haechannie,” Mark says, softer this time as he leans closer. “Haechan-ah, wake up. We still have work to do.”

There’s this sound that Haechan makes, somewhere between a soft moan and a sultry whine, that makes Mark feel a bit weird but he pushes the thoughts to the back of his head when Haechan slowly opens his eyes.

“Ugh,” he says, yawning, “You again.”

And Mark chuckles a bit. “Sorry, were you expecting someone else?” It was supposed to be a joke, but Haechan freezes at his words. “Haechannie?”

“What?” He asks, trying to act as normal as possible but Mark catches on. “Stop calling my name like that, it’s gross.” He stands up before Mark can blurt anything else and immediately says, “Come on, start working. I wanna sleep early.”

They sleep in different rooms like always, only this time, Mark spends his night staring at the ceiling and wonders whether he said something wrong earlier. But no matter how much he visited his memory and replayed the conversation, he still couldn’t find his fault. He remembered the hurting look Haechan had on his face, though, and it bothered him so much that he began to lose sleep.

The next morning, Mark feels even worse not solely because he didn’t catch much rest but because Haechan looks like he’s been crying himself to sleep.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks, staring at the other man’s face as if Haechan is about to turn into a zombie.

“Are you okay?” Haechan is clearly trying to distract Mark away from him. “You look like you haven’t slept for years.”

“I was…” Mark fumbles with his words. “Distracted, I guess.”

“With what?”

He doesn’t answer and Haechan spends a few seconds analyzing him before he finally sighs and grumbles, “I guess we both have secrets. I’m gonna make some pancakes. Want some?”

Mark lightly nods though his heart still lays heavy in his chest. But if there are things he can’t tell, then maybe Haechan does too. Maybe all they need is time.

But time is limited in this world, even more so than before.

***

“Have you taken a shower yet?” Haechan asks with a towel hanging around his neck. His hair is damp and he sniffles with his nose slightly red from the cold. “No, wait, let me rephrase that. Have you ever taken a shower?”

Mark begins to count the little holes on the wooden floor underneath his feet to avoid looking at the way Haechan’s jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, or the droplets of water that drips from his chin to his bare chest.

“Get dressed, Haechan-ah, aren’t you cold?”

“No, the heater is on.” But he still sniffs as he picks up his hoodie. “Look, I know I’ve been calling you little shit but that doesn’t give you the authority to actually smell like one.”

“Huh,” Mark takes a hold of his shirt, sniffing against the fabric. “Wow, I do kind of smell.”

“Kind of? I’m shocked that these zombies haven’t found us already from how god awful you smell.”

“Don’t call them zombies, you’re being rude.”

“What the fuck do you call them?”

“Sick people?”

“Jesus Christ, I literally can’t with you.” He sits down next to him on the other side of the couch, pressing his back against the furniture and stares at the ceiling. “What are we having for breakfast today?”

“Canned food.”

“Dinner?”

“Canned food.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Wait, I think we can eat…” Mark doesn’t finish right away, making sure that Haechan has a hopeful look blossoming on his face. When he does, he finishes with, “Canned food.”

“Aaaaaah~” He whines in the way Haechan always whines which sounds kind of childish but endearing to Mark’s ears. “I’m so tired of having fucking canned foods every day!”

“Be grateful that we have food.”

“I’d be more grateful if we have real food. Can’t you make yourself useful for once and cook something?”

“We don’t really have the ingredients.”

“Then I guess, we’re going shopping.” Haechan huffs before he glances at the slightly taller man. “After you take a goddamn shower.”

Mark can no longer remember when was the last time he took a shower—and a nice, warm one at that—so he almost weeps in joy when the warm droplets rain down on him, washing all the dust and fatigue away from his body. He stands still, enjoying the warmth before he reaches out for some soap and lathers it down his skin. He notices he has some bruises along his arm from where he tripped down the stairs yesterday, trying to help Haechan carry a medium-sized cupboard to cover the front door. I can’t believe you couldn’t even keep yourself up even when I’m practically handling all the weight, Haechan scolded him with both hands on his hips and it makes him smile at the thought.

But the bruises remind him of the pain he felt and pain reminds him of his mother. Of the way she suddenly jolted her eyes awake after five days had passed. Of the way she bared her teeth, lurched herself toward him, and tried to bury her fangs and peel the skin off his body. Of the way he shook in horror, screaming in pain and the way he begged her to stop.

And of the way he sank the kitchen’s knife to her chest and kept it that way until she stopped moving.

“What took you so long?” Haechan asks when Mark finally steps outside the bathroom after half an hour has passed. He observes the look on his face before he adds, “How can you look even shittier after taking a shower? Your eyes are swollen.”

Mark rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, I kinda cried while in there.”

“Because the shower was so good?”

“Sure.”

And Haechan doesn’t contribute any further, perhaps because of the way Mark looks like it’s something private they should both leave out of the conversation. Or maybe Haechan simply doesn’t care, Mark can’t be sure.

Mark doesn’t recognize the neighbourhood they’re in, so he lets Haechan leads the way to the nearest supermarket. The morning sun is warm on his skin, the leaves on the trees are turning orange and Mark can finally smell autumn after so long. He has grown tired of summer. It’s about damn time.

“Oh, I actually know this place,” Mark mentions, as they park their car a few feet away from the building.

“Congratulations, you just won at life,” Haechan utters flatly, taking three sheathed knives from his backpack and places them around the belt of his jeans.

“Must you be so rude all the time?”

“Just messing with you, Canada. Chill.”

“Why don’t you take any guns with you?”

“Because guns run out of bullets pretty fast. And these,” he stops with a smirk on his face, twirling a pocket knife around his fingers, “don’t.”

“Can you teach me sometimes how to use that?”

“And what do you have to offer, may I ask?”

Mark contemplates in silence. He really doesn’t have anything that might interest him, so he decides to joke about it. “My body?”

To his surprise, Haechan’s eyes grow wide and he doesn’t speak a word and it’s so weird because it’s supposed to be a fucking joke.

“I… I was just—” Mark splutters, blushing at his own antic. “I was just kidding.”

“It’s not funny, Mark.”

“Sorry.”

And Haechan lets out the loudest sigh ever before he steps down the car, leaving Mark inside looking like a goddamn idiot that he is.

“Okay, so,” Haechan straightens his posture, standing in front of the entrance door with his machete lays firmly on his hand. “Do we need a plan?”

“I still think this is a bad idea.”

“Oh, come on, Mark,” Haechan whines. “Yes, I know we can barely get any sunlight inside the store but we’re not going to take long. We’ll just grab some things and run back here. Even if there are zombies in there, they’ll be burnt to a crisp the second we’re outside.”

“But—”

“Marrrrkkkkkk.”

“Okay, okay, fine!” Mark pushes his hair back with one hand in defeat. “I’ll go first,” he says, cocking his handgun. “You watch my back.”

“Why do you have to go first?”

“Because I’m older.”

“But you’re shittier than me.”

“With a gun on my hand? Not as shitty as you’d think.” Mark smirks, and he thinks he sounds cool but by the way Haechan is staring at him, he realizes he’s not. A flashback of Haechan completely overpowering him even when he had his gun came back to his mind and he winces at the thought. “Okay, so, you wanna go first?”

Haechan sighs, taking a step forward. Mark trails after him soon after.

Mark remembers this place, knows every aisle like the back of his hand from how often he accompanied his mother to stock up their groceries every weekend. It doesn’t look like what he’d committed in his memory in the slightest, though. The lights are still on, but they’re flickering here and there and ceramic tiles are mostly covered with liquid stuff coming from bleachers, oils or something Mark can no longer tell. Most of the shelves are empty and a lot of goods are thrown all over the place, but fortunately, they’re not ruined.

Mark analyzes the place as best as he can with Haechan leading the way, doing the same. Everything seems fine and he can see Haechan’s shoulders relaxed a bit after a while. Swirling his knife around his fingers, he says, “I guess we’re alone.”

Mark nods. “All right,” he puts his gun on safety. “Let’s shop.”

Haechan says he wanted to eat some pasta for a change, and Mark follows with a hum. Anything other than canned foods sounds good these days. They stroll around the aisle, taking the necessary ingredients into their bags along with some toiletries and an abundance amount of water bottles.

Mark notices some board games when Haechan is busy flipping through pages of a Playboy magazine and he takes one that suits Haechan’s taste so they can spend more time together.

Mark freezes at the thought. Since when did he begin to want to spend time together with this pain in the ass?

“Yo, little shit,” Haechan calls, and Mark sighs. “Come here for a sec.”

Mark sneaks a glance over Haechan’s shoulders and feels his heart stops for a split second. “That’s—”

“Blood,” Haechan finishes, exchanging glances at him. “We’re not alone.”

Mark is still processing it down when a loud noise suddenly comes from two aisles behind them. With his heart jumping to his throat, Mark keeps his hands steady and points his gun forward. Haechan looms behind him, taking a long knife from the back of his shirt in another hand and stands alert.

“If it’s more than one, we run.”

“Don’t order me around, you little shit.”

But at this point, Mark knows how much Haechan depends on him and will follow his order in a heartbeat, which is kinda cute and reassuring, Mark thinks, as he swallows his breath. He’s prepared for the worst but what comes along is—

“It’s a dog!” Haechan claims, tucking both of his knives back around his belt and squats down on the floor next to Mark. “Come here, boy!”

It’s a Yellow Spitz, Mark notices, or a Nureongi people used to call. It has a short coat with patches of yellow and a melanistic mask on its face. By the sound of Haechan’s call, the dog comes running toward him with its mouth opened wide and its tongue lolling down.

“Ouch!” Haechan is laughing, enjoying the forceful tackle from the excited dog, and rubbing his hands along the fur. “Who’s a good boy?” He asks, rubbing the tip of his nose to the dog’s. “Yes, you are, you are a good boy—wait, no—“ Haechan grimaces when the dog licks his entire face, saliva blabbering over his skin but he laughs it off.

Mark stands on the side with a smile he secretly keeps to himself. He has never seen Haechan looking so young and open, like a child on his first trip, and it amuses him. “I didn’t know you could look like this,” he comments. “You should smile more often. It’s cute.”

Mark’s a bit taken by the look that fleets across Haechan’s face for a split second, and he swears that he just saw him blush but it’s too short to be sure about it.

“Maybe if you grow some fur, I will,” Haechan merely comments before he sticks his tongue out at him.

Mark only playfully rolls his eyes in response.

“Can we keep him?” Haechan’s asks as he cups the dog’s face and nuzzles their noses together. “You are so cute!”

“No. What happens if he barks?”

“But he doesn’t bark.” The dog suddenly barks two times and Haechan immediately wraps his fingers along its jaw to keep its mouth shut. “Or I can just do this whenever he does.” The dog growls, trying to wiggle itself away from Haechan’s grip. It suddenly looks nervous, almost terrified.

“Haechan,” Mark insists, “He’ll only attract attention. You know we can’t—”

“MARK, WATCH OUT—”

It happens so fast that by the time he realizes what’s happening, Mark is already on the ground, his back pressed against the ceramic floor with a zombie on top of him, baring his teeth and clawing at his skin. It’s in the form of a middle-aged man, in a cashier uniform with cloudy white eyes and dark veins covering his skin.

Luckily, Mark already has his hands in front of him, pushing that thing as far away as he could manage but it’s too strong. The zombie roars, spraying saliva mixed with blood onto his face and Mark immediately throws his head to the side. “Fuck!” He hisses, kicking it several times with his knee but it won’t budge, until suddenly a knife makes it way to its head, pushing through its brain and ending its life for good.

Haechan stares at Mark with horrified eyes, before he kneels down in front of him and immediately checks his face.

“Did you get his blood in your mouth?!” He asks frantically, worried to death by the look of it, almost like it was him who just got sprayed with zombie’s blood.

“I don’t think I did,” Mark says, still feeling quite dizzy.

“Spit it out!” Haechan shakes him desperately by the shoulders. “Spit everything out! Now!”

Mark doesn’t understand why he’s so afraid—because aren’t they both supposed to be immune to the virus?—but spits out a few times just in case. He rubs the back of his hand against his mouth before he turns toward the other man. “Thanks for saving me.”

And Mark thought that Haechan was going to sigh loudly at him and call him an idiot little shit for a few times on their way home, but what he does is lean forward and wrap his arms tightly around Mark’s shoulders.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs almost in a whisper, before he pulls back, clears his throat and adds, “You little shit. You’re lucky you have me saving your ass.”

Well, Mark supposes, he’s partially right about his thought. “I am.”

Haechan blushes again, but he doesn’t let Mark see.

“Come on, we should get under the sun,” Haechan says, offering a hand which Mark gladly takes. “If there are more of them, we should be safe as long we’re outside.”

“Still want to take that dog with you?”

“Shut up, little shit.”

***

“Come on, you have to pick truth,” Mark says, with a guitar on his lap, playing random chord that matches Haechan’s hums. It’s still two hours away before the sun sets and they have been spending the entire day just lounging around watching old movies and playing stupid board games. “It’s called Truth or Dare for a reason, Haechannie, and I’m already out of ideas of what kind of dare you should do because apparently, you have no fear—or shame for that matter—when it comes to it.”

“You’re just not creative enough,” Haechan says, smirking to himself because he’s undefeated when it comes to taking a dare. Whenever Mark tries to humiliate him, it ends up with Haechan humiliating him instead. “Okay, fine, truth it is. Give it to me, you little shit.”

“You do realize that I’m your hyung, right?”

“Well, then, give it to me, Little Shit-hyung.” Haechan snickers and Mark throws his shoe at him.

“When’s your birthday?” Mark asks, munching a chocolate cookie.

“That’s your question?” Haechan exclaims. “Shit, Mark, I know you’re boring but I never thought you’d be this boring.”

“I just want to know you better!” Mark laughs when Haechan starts throwing Cheetos at him. “What is so wrong with that? You know you’d never tell me these things if I didn’t force you to do it.”

“Fine, geez,” Haechan succumbs, “Sixth of June.”

“Wait, let me put that in real quick.” Mark takes out his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans. It can no longer make calls or surf the internet, but it can come in handy to keep himself on track with dates and times. “Sixth of June,” he mutters to himself as he taps his thumb on his phone screen.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m adding your birthday to my calendar.”

“Yes, I know, Mark.” Haechan rolls his eyes impatiently. “I mean, why?”

“Why?” Mark laughs a bit, looking at him bewilderedly. “‘Cause we’re friends, you idiot.”

“We are?” Haechan dramatically gasps, which earns him a kick on the knee and he whines loudly about it.

“I just think we should celebrate it together,” Mark continues without a care. “Well, starting next year anyway, since we’ve both passed our birthdays by now. One sec.” He holds up a finger, running his thumb on his screen again. “Sixth of June. Little Shit’s birthday. And save.”

Haechan glares but doesn’t make any remark on it. “What’s there to celebrate about?” He questions flatly. “The world is ending, if you haven’t noticed.”

“And that’s your reason to not celebrate birthdays?” Mark snorts. “I know you’re boring but I never thought you’d be this boring.”

“I am going to strangle you.”

Mark kicks him playfully on the knee again and they begin to wrestle until they become hungry. After quickly heating up some leftovers from the night before, they head toward their bedrooms.

“Stay quiet, little shit,” Haechan says, as he leans against his doorframe. “And if you’re gonna jack off—“

Mark throws a pillow on his face. “Just go to bed!”

“Okay, okay,” Haechan chuckles. “See you soon, Mark.”

“See you soon, Haechannie.”

Before Mark knows it, those words they say to each other become some kind of habit that they do every night. And the more they say them, the more they become like a promise for one another. It’s something that Mark needs, he realizes, because now he has someone to look forward to see in the morning. Someone with smiles as warm as the sun. And Mark can forget, at least for now, the fact that he’d lost everything and try to stay alive for another day.

***

Autumn is about to end and the weather is terrible for Mark during the night, as he can barely stand cold. He can turn on the heater, of course, but it will probably make too much noise so both he and Haechan agree to just slip under the duvet, and wrap as many blankets as they can find around their bodies.

Mark jolts awake when he hears his bedroom door being opened with a soft creak. His ears are now trained to keep himself alert at night, even with the slightest sound. He has one leg down the bed, ready to do whatever it takes to survive if a zombie comes barging in. His handgun lays safely under his pillow and it will only take a second for him to grab it. He had tampered his window with wood boards on the first day they’d settled here, but the moonlight still somehow sneaks in between the tiny spaces, giving very little light into the room but it’s enough for Mark to notice that it’s only Haechan, standing with his pillow pressed against his chest, a blanket around his body, and a pale look on his face.

What happened? Mark asks, moving his hands and fingers in a sign language they have both learned to survive. Is something wrong?

I can’t sleep. Haechan says, and Mark can’t really tell within the darkness of the room whether it’s a blush appearing on his cheeks or it’s just the moonlight playing tricks on him. Can I stay here with you?

Mark nods, and Haechan walks close, settling himself down on the carpeted floor next to the bed. Mark taps his shoulder and when Haechan looks over, he nudges his head toward the bed.

Come up. It’s cold.

Haechan nibbles on his bottom lip, hesitation in his eyes, but he finally stands up and wiggles himself under the blanket. Mark scoots over to give him as much space as he can, and they both end up staring at the ceiling, awkwardness and silence filling the air.

It seems like a minute has passed by but it feels like forever and Mark is about to throw up from how fast his heart is beating and he’s asking himself why the fuck am I feeling like this when Haechan suddenly turns over to his side and whispers his name.

Mark can feel his own body stiffen but he tries his best to relax. He turns to his side as well, facing him. “Hmm?”

“Can I move closer?” He asks and Mark’s stomach does a flip. “So I can hear you better, I mean.”

“S-sure.”

And Haechan moves close—close enough for Mark to breath in his scent, to know that he uses the same shampoo as he does even though there are three different kinds of bottles in the bathroom, and it somehow smells way better on him and Mark doesn’t know what to do with it but it distracts him so much.

“You okay?” Haechan’s voice is soft and lacks the usual snarky tone he usually laces his sentence with. Mark nods, a bit shakily and the younger man giggles quietly. “I know it’s uncomfortable sharing a bed with another dude but bear with me this time, will ya?”

“It’s…” Somehow, Mark’s throat feels like burning. “It’s not uncomfortable.”

Something gleams in Haechan’s eyes and Mark has to look somewhere else so he doesn’t fall deeper into that pair of chocolate brown eyes more than he already does.

“So, uhh,” Mark clears his throat. It’s weird that even when he’s whispering, his voice still breaks from how nervous he is. “Is there a particular reason why you can’t sleep?”

“Why so formal, Mark Lee.” Haechan snorts. “Must there be a particular reason for us to sleep together?”

Mark almost chokes at Haechan’s poor choice of words. Almost.

“How many hours left till dawn?”

“Umm,” Mark checks his phone, making sure he covers the light with his pillow. “It’s actually around two hours from now.”

“Well then, you’ve slept enough,” Haechan says, propping his chin on the pillow as he stares at him. “Accompany me till morning?”

“Sure, why not.”

And so he does, exchanging whispers in the dark and changing topics from one nonsense to another. Talking with Haechan is relaxing, Mark notices, though more often than not, it ends with an argument but he enjoys arguing with him. It feels like he’s learning more about him, more about the real Haechan—the one who is acting almost as young as a child—and not whatever it is he’s trying his best to be. And Mark is always happy to learn something new because he’s been studying Haechan’s figure over and over for the last few days and it’s tiring to be distracted by the shape of his pretty lips, or the cute tiny mole he has on his neck, or the sway of his hips when he walks.

“Are you sleepy?” Haechan asks after silence starts to grow within them and Mark curses inwardly. How the hell can I sleep when I’m so distracted with the way I can feel your breath on my neck is what he has in mind but on the outside, he just gives a nonchalant shrug and says, “Not really.”

“Good then.” Mark swears he can feel Haechan’s smile in his words and he can also feel the way he snuggles a tad closer, seeking his warmth. “Hey, Mark?” Mark hums in response. “How come you’re alone? I mean, someone as nice and frail as you can only live so long in a world like this without company.”

“I’m not sure whether you want to compliment me or insult me.”

“I just want to know more about you.”

It’s sincere and genuine, the way Haechan says it, and Mark raises an eyebrow, finally looking into his eyes again. “That’s a first. I thought you didn’t care about me.”

It’s Haechan’s turn to break off their gazes. “Believe me, I don’t. It’s just out of curiosity. Wha—is it so wrong? Stop looking at me like that!”

Mark bites his bottom lip to contain his laughter. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up!”

“Well, if you’re so curious about it,” Mark teases and Haechan pushes his palm against his face to wipe off his grin. Mark wraps his fingers around Haechan’s wrist to keep him away but he holds it a little bit longer than he’s supposed to before he lets go.

“I was staying with my parents when the outbreak happened,” Mark begins, locking his eyes at the ceiling and he can feel Haechan’s gaze scanning his face but he doesn’t dare to look. “Someone near my house got infected, and it traveled so fast that by the time I realized that the virus was airborne, people were already dying. And I—” Mark stops to take a breath, closing his eyes for a moment as the flashback hits him like a wave.

Haechan doesn’t say a word, but he reaches out to tangle his fingers around his under the blanket and Mark blinks at the touch before he smiles to himself.

“I watched my dad died,” Mark finally says, and it’s easier than he expected to be, probably because Haechan’s warmth is seeping into his skin. “It happened so fast. He was sitting on the dining table, already looking pale because of cancer that took him apart day by day, but the second he got infected, it was like something was exploding within him. And I watched him crumble, watched him reaching out to me for help and I just stood there. Watching him.”

Haechan holds his hand tighter. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Mark smiles weakly at him. “Thanks. I just wish I did something for him, you know? Like, hold his hand and tell him I love him, or something.”

“You were stunned.”

“I was just weak and afraid.” Mark unconsciously curls his fingers a bit harder that Haechan begins to wince but he doesn’t say anything about it. “I was so afraid that I’d die, just like him. It was until I found out I was immune that I began to cry and regret the whole thing. I’m the worst, aren’t I?”

Haechan shakes his head, whispering, “I would’ve done the same. Maybe even worse,” he adds a chuckle and it’s so genuine that Mark begins to feel like the heavy pain in his chest is being lifted little by little. “And your mom? What happened to her?”

It’s the question he’s been dreading the most but Haechan’s voice is silky smooth in his ears, and his touch is scorching against his skin, and as Mark breathes in his scent, everything becomes clear.

There’s a first for everything.

“My mom—” It still feels like he’s suffocating, so he intertwines his fingers with Haechan’s a little better to distract him from the pain. “When she got infected, she fell into a deep sleep. Like she went into a coma or something. And I was relieved because I thought she was going to wake up and smile at me again. I thought that her body was healing. I didn’t realize that she was… turning.”

Haechan’s breathing is steady while Mark’s is catching fire. “Mark, look at me.” And when Mark is too lost in his own thoughts, Haechan cups his cheek and forces him to look at him. “You’re okay. You’re with me now.”

Mark’s eyes are shaking but he gradually finds back his pace, finally able to catch his own breath. “I’m with you now,” he whispers back and Haechan smiles.

“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” Haechan says, rubbing comforting circles on the side of Mark’s face with his thumb. “And I kinda have a hunch on where this story is going.”

“You—“ Mark wets his lips. “You do?”

Haechan’s gaze is intense but gentle enough to wash Mark’s anxiety away. “All I have to say is,” Haechan starts, “We all have our sins. What you did was based on instinct. You were trying to protect yourself. Anyone would’ve done the same thing so stop blaming yourself.”

Mark doesn’t realize he’s crying until Haechan wipes a tear away from his cheek. “You’re innocent, Mark Lee,” he assures, smiling at him. “You’re just living in a shitty world, that’s all.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says, smiling a little to himself as he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, washing all of his tears away. “Who are you and what have you done to my snarky-ass Haechan?”

“Your Haechan?”

Mark blushes. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Haechan’s eyes gleam in a teasing manner. “What way then?”

Mark clears his throat. Hopefully, the night can cover how nervous he looks right now. “So, what about you?” He begins, putting his best effort to change topics. “What kind of sins have you committed that you start getting nightmares at night?”

The easy-going, reassuring facade Haechan tries to put on all night falters within an instant and this time, in the darkness and the silence of this room, he chooses to be honest.

“No,” he starts, exhaling heavily. “Nightmares happen only when you’re asleep. What I have happens when I’m awake.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s not something I want,” he murmurs quietly. “But I guess, it’s something I need. Otherwise, I’ll go crazy. I am going crazy.” He locks their gazes together, smiling like he’s on the verge of crying. “Would you mind hearing me out?”

Mark will listen as if his life depends on it and he promises him that in his heart. He nods.

“Promise you won’t judge me?”

Another nod.

“Promise you won’t leave me behind?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Haechan still looks unsure, but the more he takes in Mark’s feature and every detail of his expression, the more he wants to let go—to finally succumb to his sin, to hear someone say, “It’s okay, I forgive you. We all have our sins. We are not different.”

So in shaky whispers, he begins to tell the story and Mark listens.

Haechan was not alone before he met Mark. He had a family. He had a sister, only younger than he was by two years, and he’d loved her. He’d loved her so much that when his parents started to collapse, he took a hold of her hand and drag her to run without looking back even when his mother was still screaming his name, asking him for help. He knew it was too late to save them, but saving his sister was not.

Her sister, just like him, was also immune to the virus and Haechan thought everything was fine. They could still live and be happy together. So they began to wander during the day, and hugged each other to sleep during the night at an abandoned house, sharing headphones to mute down the snarling sounds of the creatures lurking around under the moonlight. They were okay. They were alive.

Until one day, when Haechan was too busy getting supplies from the kitchen, her sister wandered by herself toward the basement of a new house they found. Haechan didn’t know about it, wasn’t careful enough to check, and when he heard her scream, he realized it was too late.

There was a zombie, trapped inside the basement that crawled out when she opened the door. It was so fast, jumping on top of her and ripping the skin on her arm with its teeth. Haechan was so frantic that he began to stab it multiple times on the face, tearing its face apart again and again and again until his sister embraced him from behind and begged him to stop. Haechan held her in his arms like he’d never held anyone before and he thanked God for letting her stay alive, though badly injured.

Because he thought her injury would heal.

He thought she wouldn’t get infected because she was immune.

But when she became paler and paler with more days passing by, Haechan began to worry. Her skin began to rot little by little, and her stench was so strong that Haechan began to hold his breath whenever she was close. Black veins were creeping up her skin and she lost her beautiful brown eyes soon after, having them changed into a pair of cloudy white eyes.

Haechan was so afraid by the look of her that he began to apologize. Sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me, he said again and again as he wrapped a scarf around her mouth, stopping her from calling his name. She was begging for him to spare her life and yet he held his knife firmly with both of his shaking hands, and he plunged it toward her chest.

She died in his hands, along with a part of him.

“She was still human when I killed her,” Haechan confesses, his voice quivering. “She kept asking me why, why are you doing this but I kept going. I can still remember how warm her blood was on my hands. I was so afraid. I was so afraid of her.”

Mark does not speak during his story and he finds himself lost for words when Haechan grows quiet. The silence is deafening and he knows he should say something, anything, but he’s busy trying to understand the look on Haechan’s face.

Their breathing matches each other’s and Haechan quietly laughs, “You know, it’s weird. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry but—”

And he breaks apart in the way Mark never sees anyone does.

Haechan’s whole body shakes as he gives his best effort to muffle his scream by biting his lower lip hard enough to the point it almost draws blood. He covers his face with both hands, sobbing furiously to his palms and even if he tries his best to be quiet, Haechan is still making noise.

And Mark wonders whether it’s because of that very reason of survival or it’s just really something he’s been wanting to do every time Haechan beams at him with that blazing smile of his, but he finds himself reaching forward, tangling his fingers around the strands of Haechan’s hair and pulls the other boy forward until their lips meet in a frantic kiss.

Haechan’s eyes grow wide for a good couple of seconds and Mark finally comes back to his senses when he notices the way the other boy stiffens in his arms. Haechan has momentarily stopped crying due to the sudden surprise, though the tremor of his previous sobs is still there and he’s looking at Mark with these huge, mesmerizing round eyes, with nothing but confusion and shock on his face, and Mark begins to ask himself what the fuck did I just do.

“Fuck, I—” Mark has never struggled this hard to find the right word in his entire life. “I didn’t know why—”

But he probably doesn’t need to say anything, because Haechan is taking the rest of his sentence into his own mouth, and tasting Mark’s feelings directly with his tongue. He’s being forceful, pulling Mark close with all his strength until the other man stumbles upon him and they’re pressed together chest-to-chest. Haechan has his hands circling around the collar of Mark’s shirt, smashing their lips together and they kiss hard and fast, tasting each other’s—owning each other’s—mouth until Mark is breathing his breath and Haechan is breathing his.

“More,” Haechan gasps, teeth nibbling against Mark’s bottom lip. “More, Mark, please.” And Mark just crumbles, moaning against his mouth and takes every soft whine that comes from Haechan into his memory.

None of them care at this point if they’re being too loud, so it’s really their luck that the sun has risen outside, its light seeping through the window, basking them with warmth but none of them need it. Not with the way Mark is hovering above him, his hands slipping under Haechan’s sweater, running his fingertips along the golden skin and emitting more moans from the other man.

“Haechannie.” Mark has his earlobe between his teeth and he sucks at the soft skin, before peppering kisses down the column of his neck. Haechan arches his back, grinding their hips together and begs him to, “Take my fucking clothes off, Mark.”

Clothes are scattered on the floor within an instant, and as Mark sits on his lap just for a few seconds as he pulls his own shirt over his head, Haechan is already latching his mouth on his stomach, licking a stripe up his chest before he pulls Mark down on top of him again.

“I want to feel you,” Haechan breathes out between gasps, “I want to feel all of you.”

“Calm down,” Mark says, softly smiling against his forehead “I’m not going anywhere.”

And they stop just to take a thorough glance at each other’s face now that the light is bright enough for them to see properly. Haechan traces his fingers on the side of Mark’s face, as if he’s a sculpture waiting to be adored, and it takes all the control of his body not to kiss him again right then.

“I’m really glad I met you,” he whispers as he brings his lips to Mark’s, pausing momentarily, just to add, “You little shit.”

And Mark laughs into his mouth but only for a moment before passion starts to take control of him again and he’s moaning, “Haechannie, Haechannie,” directly to his ear as they rock their hips together.

***

It’s already midday when Mark opens his eyes, sitting on his bed with a blank stare as if his soul just left his body. He thinks he just had the most pleasant dream he’s ever witnessed in his twenty-one years of living, but when he notices how his pillow smells like honey, realization hits him like a wave.

It’s not a dream. Haechan was really here.

So he jumps down his bed, trips over his own clothes and swears under his breath as he tries to dress as fast as he can. He stumbles out of his room, running toward the kitchen where he finds Haechan sitting on the kitchen’s counter with his legs dangling in the air.

Haechan’s eyes slightly grow wide at the sight of Mark standing gawkily in front of him with his terrible bed hair, but he quickly gains control of himself. “Morning,” he casually says, raising the red colored mug he always uses, “Coffee?”

Mark curls his fingers around the fabric of his sweat pants. “Okay.”

It’s awkward. It feels so, terribly awkward that they begin to tense every time one of them breathe a little too hard, or sip their coffee a little too loud. Mark is sitting on the opposite of Haechan on the dining table, like how they usually do, but it feels like the earth is about to swallow him whole.

“Haechannie!” Mark begins, a little bit too loud that they both flinch at the sound of his voice. “About last night—I-I mean, this morning—when we—”

“Do you regret it?” Haechan’s voice, unlike Mark, is much steadier, almost too formal, even. But after spending months with him, Mark can tell that he’s about as nervous as he is.

“Reg—no, of course not!” Mark has his eyebrows furrowed together. “Do you?”

Haechan looks away, taking a sip of his coffee as he murmurs quietly. “No.”

And silence comes in again like an old friend and Mark despises it so much because it’s making him insane. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Haechan sighs, scratching the back of his head and Mark finally notices that oh, he’s just embarrassed about it.

“I don’t really know how to face you,” he admits, blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears. “I didn’t think we’d end up that way.”

Mark opens his mouth but unsure of his words. “Then…” he whispers, uncertainly, with throat feels like blazing in flames. “Do you want to pretend it never happened?”

Haechan seems taken aback. Shocked, even, to hear Mark proposing something like that. Scowling a bit, he places his mug on the table with a loud thud and walks closer.

“Haechan—”

His kiss is more teeth than anything else and Mark freezes, not knowing what to do as Haechan climbs into his lap, twisting his hair around his fingers. It’s suffocating, the way Haechan kisses, but Mark likes it so much that he doesn’t mind if Haechan takes all his breath away with his.

After a good minute has passed, with a string of saliva connecting their parting lips, Haechan asks between heavy breaths, “Do you want to pretend this never happened?”

“Fuck no,” Mark replies in an instant and this time, he’s the one who takes Haechan’s breath out of his lungs.

They sleep on the same bed every night but only embrace each other during the day because Mark is getting exceptionally good at it and Haechan is having trouble keeping his moans to himself. They still share kisses in the dark but Mark always places his palm over Haechan’s face and pushes him away whenever it gets too much.

They haven’t moved out of the house even after the season has changed and Mark is getting an eerie feeling of being followed. “They’re triggered by movements and sound,” Haechan comforts him as he sits crossed-legs on the couch with a game controller in his hand, “So as long as we’re dead quiet during the night and stay out of sight, we’ll be fine.”

“You’re right,” Mark agrees, though his heart still feels heavy in his chest. “I don’t know, I just… I can’t help but worry, that’s all.”

“Yes, because that’s you. All you do is worry.”

“I have been doing something else in the last few days, actually,” Mark says, suddenly leaning forward from behind the couch and whispering close to his ear, “Or rather, someone.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan says but his lips are turning into a cheeky grin. “Keep doing that, and I’ll attack you again.”

And Mark teases again because they both know that’s what they want. It’s funny how the world is ending and yet Mark feels like he’s complete. As if everything just fell into places. And seeing Haechan writhe underneath him, as he thrusts in and out, is something he could never even dream to have in his previous life.

Haechan is quite possessive, Mark learns, by the way he nips at the juncture of his neck until purplish bruises bloom along his skin. Mark knows how much Haechan likes to sink his teeth on his shoulder when Mark hits that spot deep inside him, and he loves it when he can make Mark groan at the pain, muttering, “Fuck, that’s so hot—you’re so hot—” before he takes Mark’s bottom lip between his teeth again. It’s as if he wants to make it known to the world that he belongs to him, even when they’re the only two people in the world.

“Donghyuck,” Haechan suddenly says, out of the blue as they share French toasts for breakfast.

“It’s Mark, actually.”

“No,” Haechan laughs, almost spilling his coffee. “My name, you idiot. Lee Donghyuck is my real name.”

“What?!” Mark complains, feeling utterly betrayed. “After all this time, you’re just telling me now?”

“Well, I like the way you say Haechan,” he explains. “So I don’t mind if you call me that. I just thought you should know.”

But Mark is still kind of upset about it and he still does for the rest of the day, until Haechan sits on his lap that afternoon, attempting to wash the pout off his face with something exciting and Mark leaves no time to waste. He calls Haechan’s name—his real name—whenever their hips meet together and Haechan blushes and begs him to stop, telling him it’s weird, but Mark still continues because somehow he can feel Haechan tightening around him when he does and Mark likes to see him crumble into a moaning mess that he is now.

***

“You’re shit at cooking, Mark,” Haechan grumbles with his eyes still bleary from sleep. He stabs his fork not too gracefully to something that Mark called as a decent-looking sunny side up. “Look at this.” He glares at the burnt white egg. “I mean, seriously, what the heck is this?”

“It’s food. Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”

“Okay, Mom.” Haechan rolls his eyes, grimacing dramatically at the man who sits opposite him when the piece of food enters his mouth. “Yuuuuuummmm.”

“Shut up,” Mark shouts but he can’t stop himself from laughing. Haechan is so annoyingly hilarious and he whines about Mark’s cooking every single day but never even tries to offer any help or take charge of the cooking duty for him. Mark never gets upset about it, though, because Haechan looks cute when he pouts and if it takes one plate of his bad cooking to see that adorable pout on his face then Mark will serve his decent-looking sunny side up every day.

They eventually stop conversing to be able to chew on their foods properly and Haechan has his eyes busy scanning the PlayBoy magazine he stole from the supermarket the other day. Mark has his gaze on his plate as he plays with his egg’s yolk using his fork, but his mind is somewhere else.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I love you.”

Haechan’s fork flies out of his hand and ends with a clatter on the floor. Mark’s terrible fried egg is still half-chewed on his now half-opened mouth and it’s not an attractive sight in the slightest but Mark looks at him as if he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I—Y-you—” Haechan, the sharp tongue Haechan, never stutters in his twenty years of living and Mark is somehow proud of himself for being able to drive him to this point. “What the hell are you talking about—why—”

“Because I do.” Mark’s tone is so serious that it feels like he’s reading the news or reading the result of the latest presidential election. “I have been for quite some time. I just wasn’t sure you felt the same so I kind of keep quiet about it.”

And Haechan can only stare, and stare, and stare until he realizes that it’s better to just stay silent and do what his body tells him to do.

Mark is forced to stand on his feet before a pair of plump lips attack his own in a mind-numbing kiss. It’s a bit messy and Haechan tastes like the breakfast he just ate but Mark sighs against his mouth and lets him pull his shirt over his head.

Mark pushes his plate away from the table so Haechan can sit on the edge and tangle his legs around his waist and when it slips down to the floor, porcelain breaking into smaller pieces, he pays no mind because Haechan is now laying down on the dining table with his shirt going up to his chest. He pulls Mark down by the neck, and forcing him to grind his hips against him.

“You’re unbelievable,” Haechan gasps into his mouth, running his teeth along Mark’s lower lip. “Couldn’t you have picked a better moment to say that?”

“Sorry.” Mark’s lips part in a silent moan when Haechan slips a hand underneath his sweat pants and teases him over his underwear. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since I woke up and it started driving me insane so I just had to say it.”

“Fuck, Mark, you’re so unfair.” Haechan takes a hold of Mark’s hand, leading him to where he wants to be touched and softly whines when Mark indulges him. “Tell me more,” he gasps, clawing against Mark’s skin as they rub their lengths together. “I want to, ah fuck, hear more, Mark, please.”

And Mark doesn’t hesitate one bit when he praises him, complimenting every little part, every little detail. I love you. I love your honey-like scent. I love your smile, and this mole you have on your neck. I love the way you say my name.

Haechan is powerless under Mark’s words, begging and writhing for Mark to pound into him until he sees stars and Mark is more than eager to comply. I love the way you moan. I love the way you arch your back. I love you, I love seeing you like this. You’re so pretty, Haechannie. So fucking beautiful.

And Haechan comes hard on his stomach with his teeth sinking at the crook of Mark’s neck, muffling his moan and he pushes Mark back to his chair, crawling between his legs and taking Mark deep into his mouth.

“Fuck.” He takes a handful of Haechan’s ash grey hair, slightly thrusting into his warm mouth and whimpers at how sexy Haechan looks on his knees, cheeks hollowing as he sucks him hard and fast. He has surprisingly long eyelashes, Mark admires, with small tears trapped between them from how hard Mark is hitting the back of his throat.

Mark’s about to come undone, low groans appearing at the back of his throat when Haechan suddenly stops and takes him out entirely, only giving kitten licks at the tip. Mark mewls with his eyebrows knitted together, begging Haechan to stop being a fucking tease and Haechan just grins against his skin because that’s simply what he is—a tease—and Mark is conflicted between loving and hating that trait of him at the same time.

Haechan eventually stops torturing him and sucks deep and slow the way he knows Mark would like it until Mark is spouting nonsense from his mouth, pushes himself forward abruptly and comes into his mouth. Haechan exhales heavily as he waits for Mark to finish, enjoying the low grunt he’s emitting before he swallows everything down. A little bit of his essence drips down his chin and Mark immediately apologizes with a stutter, pulling Haechan carefully into his lap and wipes his mouth with gentle strokes of his fingers. “You all right?”

Haechan looks up at him from under his bangs, his eyes half-lidded with lust as he takes two of Mark’s tainted fingers and places them between his lips, licking every bit of him with his tongue. Mark is looking at him with unblinking eyes and jaw hanging slack on his face.

Haechan leans close to embrace him, wrapping his arms around his neck and he sighs, kissing one of Mark’s shoulders. “I love you too,” he whispers and even though Mark can’t see, he dares to bet on his life that Haechan is now blushing mad at his own words. “But don’t get too cocky about it, you little shit.”

Mark chuckles because this is so Haechan. He pulls back so he can look at him in the eyes and Haechan is indeed blushing—even to the tip of his ears. “I won’t,” Mark says, letting his lips linger on his forehead. “I won’t, so stay with me, Haechannie. As long as we’re alive, don’t ever leave me.”

Haechan smiles. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

***

“Okay, ready?” Haechan asks, a knife sits firm on his hand. “On three. One, two, three!”

Mark kicks the front door open, inviting himself to a new house he’s not familiar with. They both run out of food so it’s about time to search around again. It’s the only house in the closest neighbourhood that they haven’t ransacked yet, and it’s because the windows are covered with cardboard, and the sunlight cannot penetrate in. And the number one rule of living in this world is that you have to be in places where the sunlight can reach.

It’s dark inside the house—so, so dark, in fact, that Mark has to place a flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other. “See anything weird?” He asks, as he observes as much as he could himself.

“Nope, they would come out by that ruckus we just made if they were here so I think we’re safe.” Haechan points his finger toward the kitchen. “Jackpot.”

“Stay close to me,” Mark reminds him and they both walk side by side with their weapons still aimed. There’s a window above the kitchen counter that Mark immediately tries to punch and kick through but to no avail. It won’t budge.

Turning to Haechan, who’s in charge of bringing weapons, “Do you have something to use to break that open? We need sunlight.”

“Okay, wait, I’ll—”

It’s faster for Mark’s eyes to process what is happening compared to his ears and what he sees is Haechan being tackled to the ground by a woman with cloudy white eyes and rotten flesh. And before Mark can even shout his name, he can feel his own body slammed against the wall, and a pair of large hands trying to rip his stomach open.

There are two of them and they’re both stronger than he could ever be.

Mark can hear Haechan shouting his name, but whether it’s because he’s trying to save him or screaming for help, he’s not sure and he doesn’t have time to think so. Mark lands a kick to the living corpse’s chest and it stumbles a little but enough for Mark to aim for his chest. He takes a shot, the sound of his gun thundering in the air, and pulls his trigger again to lands a bullet on its head. Mark quickly aims his gun at the female corpse next, missing his target by a few inches but enough to distract her enough so Haechan can slice her throat open with his knife.

“Haechan!” Mark immediately runs over to his place, pulling him up by the waist and drags both of their bodies until they’re outside the house, where the sun is blazing over their heads. Both of them are lying down on the empty street, breathing hard and feeling adrenaline slowly rushes out of their veins.

“Fuck, we almost died,” Mark says, turning over to see the younger man who’s wincing from the pain. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Haechan hisses, “But I think my hand is—” The rest of his words hang in the air. “Mark.”

Mark follows his gaze and shudders at what he sees. There’s a bite mark just a few inches away from his wrist, and it’s deep enough to draw blood and nearly rips his skin apart. And if Haechan’s story was true, then—

“Stay away from me!” Haechan nearly trips over his own feet from how fast he tries to get away from him. He’s standing on his feet with his arms reaching out to keep their distance apart. “Don’t you dare get close to me, Mark.”

“What—” Mark jumps to his feet as well, stepping forward and Haechan points a knife to his face. “Haechan, calm down.” He raises both arms in the air, trying his best to stay sane for both of their sakes. “Let’s think this through.”

“No.” He furiously shakes his head. “You need to stay away from me—”

“Haechan, we’re immune—calm down—”

“Not if we’re bitten, Mark! Fuck, didn’t you hear what I said back then—”

“Yes, but we’re not sure whether you’re going to. Maybe it’s different for everyone—”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not taking any chances,” Haechan hastily insists. “Go back to the house, Mark.”

“No.”

“Just go back to the fucking house!”

“And where are you going then?!” He’s shouting back at him at this point, his voice sounds thick with desperation. “Huh?! Just where are you going to go?”

Haechan grits his teeth, desperately looking for an answer himself. “It’s none of your business—”

“No fucking way, I’m coming with you.”

“Why aren’t you listening to me—”

“Because you’re not making any sense, why would I listen to you?! Just get back here, Donghyuck, and we’ll think about it when we get home!”

It’s tempting, especially after he hears his real name coming from Mark’s mouth but it’s not right. Haechan knows it’s not right. “I don’t want to hurt you, Mark.”

“Nobody is going to get hurt, so please…” Mark lowers his voice, taking a careful step toward him. “Please, Donghyuck. Come back to me. I don’t want to be alone, not again.”

Haechan has tears forming in his eyes as he brings his head up to face the clouds, and he stands still when Mark wraps his arms gently around him, pulling him close. “I’m scared, Mark,” he whispers, emitting soft sobs from his mouth and Mark nods, saying the same thing and they both just stand there in each other’s arms with Mark running his fingers up and down his spine to soothe him down.

“Let’s go home,” Mark says, cupping Haechan’s cheeks with his palms and forces him to meet his eyes. “Okay?”

Haechan nods, sobbing quietly. “Okay.”

***

Two days have passed and Mark doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do.

Haechan is dying, and he dies little by little with every second passing by. It’s so apparent and fast, the transformation process, that when Mark fell asleep on Haechan’s shoulder just for a few minutes, he woke up with a jolt, noticing how paler Haechan has gotten and how rotten the smell that came from his skin.

His golden skin is now blotchy, black veins appearing underneath it and he looks ghastly.

“Mark…”

Mark can no longer recognize his voice. It’s more like a croak, as if his vocal cords are thinning into a small string that’s about to snap. Every time Mark holds his hand, and winces at how freezing cold it is, Haechan tries to pull it away with the little strength he has left and whispers for him to leave.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not without you,” Mark always whispers back, and they both know it’s a promise. Haechan just wishes Mark would break it, because keeping it will only mean death for both of them.

The house that used to be so lively during the day and silent during the night, feels like a tombstone for every second that passes by. Mark hasn’t gone out of the house for a while, and he’s only eating one meal per day and drinks as little as he can to save every little food they have left. He forces Haechan to eat as much as he can, though, but the latter usually denies, telling him that he’s about to vomit when he has food on his tongue.

Mark carries him to his bed every night like usual but he no longer wraps his arms around him, otherwise he’d be shivering to death. Haechan’s skin is ice cold, and although he’s breathing very, very slowly, the puffs of air that flows out from his mouth do not feel warm in the slightest.

“Mark…” Haechan whispers into the night and Mark can’t contain the sadness that blooms in his heart when he hears how broken his voice is. “There are so many things… I wish I could say to you…”

“Mean things, I suppose?” Mark tries to keep it normal but the air still feels tense. “Donghyuck?”

Haechan’s chocolate brown eyes are gradually turning into silver and in the darkness of the room, they almost glow. “Thank you… for staying with me…” he murmurs and Mark can tell that Haechan is on the verge of crying, but he doesn’t. He’s no longer able to.

“It’s an honor, Haechannie.”

***

Mark hasn’t slept properly for three days and it’s taking its toll on him. He’s either staring at the ceiling, trying his best to count Haechan’s breathing and making sure that it doesn’t stop or waking up every few minutes with cold sweat, thinking that Haechan is leaving him for good.

So at one point, his body can no longer take it and he falls asleep with his head on Haechan’s shoulder. They’re sitting on the floor with their backs pressed against the wall, facing the front door. Mark has his handgun ready on his side, along with some of Haechan’s knife, but they haven’t been touched for a while. And Mark is not planning to touch it in the near future.

He wakes up with a heart attack when the front door is opened with a bang, and with bleary eyes, Mark sees several figures entering the house at once. He reaches for his handgun by instinct and aims it toward the crowd, but—

“Wait!” A man’s voice booms through the air. “Don’t shoot!”

It finally sinks in that it’s daylight and Mark is seeing people—actual breathing people who look just as weary as he is though not sleep-deprived—coming into his house. They have weapons in their hands, from crossbows to shotguns, but a man, who looks like he’s in charge, steps forward with both arms raised and sends him a reassuring smile.

“Calm down,” he says, “I’m human, just like you.”

Mark, who stands in front of Haechan by instinct to protect him, can’t believe what he’s seeing and he’s calculating whether it’s really just a dream but another man, a taller one with sharp jaws, points his gun at Haechan and Mark snaps back to reality.

“Taeyong-hyung,” the man says, “That one is turning. We should kill him.”

“NO!” Mark has his gun raised again, ready to pull the trigger. “Put your gun down or I’ll shoot, I swear to God, if you touch him—”

“Jeno,” the leader—the one who’s called Taeyong—waves a hand, suggesting him to drop his weapon down. “It’s okay. Let’s talk about this first.”

Mark drifts his eyes from one man to another, carefully reading their faces. “Who are you?”

“A survivor,” Taeyong smiles and it seems genuine but Mark doesn’t trust him in the slightest. “Like you.”

His heart is beating like crazy and he’s so amazed that there are, in fact, others like him who appear to be in much better condition too. “How many are you there?”

“Hundreds. We’re looking for more people to join our colony. We believe there are more survivors out there, and we can fight back if we grow in numbers.”

“Fight how? There’s no cure.”

“We’re immune as long as we’re not bitten.” Taeyong spares a glance at Haechan and Mark almost growls at him. “We’re harvesting our own foods, as well. You should come with us.”

“Can he come?” Mark nudges his head toward Haechan.

Taeyong has the audacity to look sympathetic, unlike his friend Jeno, who is still glowering at Haechan as if he’s a prey to be eaten when it’s supposed to be the other way around. “I wish I could say yes,” Taeyong says, “But I don’t think he can.”

“Then I’m staying.”

Taeyong sighs, but he keeps a gentle smile plastered on his face. “Can I, at least, know your name?”

Mark hesitates and he knows he’s being too cautious about everything, probably because Haechan is being targeted. Under different circumstances, he would’ve taken Taeyong’s hand in a heartbeat. “It’s Mark.”

“It’s nice to see you alive, Mark,” Taeyong says, offering his hand and Mark deliberately takes it for a handshake. “Is that your friend over there?”

Mark turns around, glancing at the man and he sees Haechan staring at him with soft eyes, his breathing slow and maybe he tries to smile but all he does is breaking Mark’s heart. “He’s—” Mark’s breath gets hitched on his throat. “He’s my family.”

Haechan closes his eyes, lips turning slightly upward.

“I’m sorry.” Taeyong places a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I really wish I could help, but there’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing you can do. It’s already too late.”

Mark knows that, he’s been telling himself that, but having it told directly to his face still hurts like it’s the first time he’s hearing it. “I know that.”

“I think he wants you to come with us too.” Taeyong walks closer to Haechan but still maintaining safe distance so Mark won’t aim his gun toward him again. He kneels in front of him, gently asking, “Isn’t that right?”

Haechan’s eyes are moving slow, searching Taeyong’s face and maybe his vision has already become blurry from the way his lenses are turning silver, but his gaze is firm when he nods.

“Please,” Haechan says, softly, quietly, and heartbreakingly, “Take him with you…”

Mark can hear his own heart shattering. “Haechan—”

“You sure?” Taeyong confirms and Haechan gives the slightest nod of his head. Mark’s not sure whether it’s because he’s too weak to move or he just doesn’t want Mark to go. Mark wishes for the latter, but Taeyong is waving one hand and the next thing he knows, he is being dragged across the room.

“No! Wait—don’t touch me—” Mark struggles, kicking all over the place as he is being held down by two guys who are way more muscular than he is. “Don’t you fucking touch me—”

“Mark.”

Mark freezes, his stomach flips at the sound of Haechan’s voice. It’s louder this time—loud enough for everyone to hear and for Mark to have his heart crushed to pieces. “Just go.”

“It’s better to live than to die, Mark, even in a world like this.” Taeyong says, wrapping a hand around Mark’s wrist and this time, Mark follows. It’s as if all the strength of his body is leaving him and he’s not able to stand on his own feet if Taeyong doesn’t pull him up.

And as he walks away, Mark keeps his eyes on Haechan, still asking him why are you doing this? But Haechan only smiles and mouths something that makes his eyes widen. He’s saying the words—the promise—they usually share with one another, but this time, Haechan doesn’t have the power to make it come true. But he still says them, because that’s his final wishes before everything turns dark.

See you soon, Mark.

***

Mark’s first day in the colony feels like the world is ending, which is saying something because the world is ending but he just really feels like it is the second Haechan is out of his grasp.

Taeyong has offered him more variety of food than he has seen for the past two months and he still stares at his plate like it’s empty and he doesn’t know what to do with it. The place is safe, guarded with tall gates and watchmen, and there’s a campfire near the tent he’s staying. Mark knows how Haechan would’ve loved that. He would probably be dancing around it, telling Mark to play another Michael Jackson song with his guitar—Billy Jean, maybe—as he busts a move. And Mark would most likely have a hard time pressing the chords because when Mark dances more with his hands, Haechan dances more with his hips and he’s so naturally good at it that it makes Mark suffer from his longing to touch him. To wrap his arms around his waist, to mold his lips against his full ones, to peel every piece of clothing off his body so he can rake his fingers along the smoothness of his spine.

There are so many survivors around him, and people like Jungwoo and Lucas do smile brighter than the sun but Mark just wants to lurk in the dark. He already has his sun once, and that sun is dying.

“Mark,” Taeyong calls, sitting next to him in front of the campfire that dances in Mark’s eyes. “How are you holding up?”

Mark doesn’t answer, and it’s probably unfair because Taeyong has been nothing but good to him but he no longer cares.

“Look,” Taeyong exhales, placing a hand on Mark’s back. “I know how you feel but—”

“Don’t fucking tell me that,” Mark snaps, slapping his hand away. “Don’t tell me you know how I feel. You don’t.”

And Taeyong gives him a minute to catch his breath because it’s true. He’s breathless. He’s been feeling like he’s suffocating from the first time he took a step out of his house and into Taeyong’s van. But no matter how many hours have passed, he still couldn’t breathe.

“We need every survivor we can get,” Taeyong softly explains. “We can survive longer if we cooperate. Protect each other. And I really think it’s the best choice for both of us, but if you feel like this is not for you, then I won’t hold you back. That’s your decision to make.”

Mark looks up at the sky, which is painted in orange as the sun’s about to set. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Sorry for being such an asshole and taking all of this out on you.”

“Most people act the same when they first got here, so I kind of get used to it by now.” Taeyong chuckles. “We all have our stories, Mark, but whether we end it and start over with another page or dwell with the ending too long is our choice. And as you can see here, we’ve all made our choices. We chose to flip a new page.”

Mark takes a look at his surroundings, really observing every detail and he knows that the happiness around him is real. These people appreciate life more than they did and they find comfort in each other. Even if the world is ending, it feels just like another day of a new world for them. Another day to start over. Another day to appreciate joy if you give it a chance and look close enough.

“Have you lost someone close to you?” Mark asks, almost in a whisper and Taeyong spares him a glance.

“More than I can count,” he answers and if Mark listens very closely, he would notice the shiver in his voice. “I had someone before. Someone that I really loved. Almost like what you two had.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Taeyong exhales into the evening sky. “Like everybody else, I suppose. He died.”

“From what?”

“From a bullet to the head.” Taeyong breathes heavily. “My bullet.”

The silence hangs in the air and it just dawns on him that of course Taeyong has lost someone to the virus. Of course he knows how Mark feels. He’s been through a lot more than Mark ever did.

Taeyong told him that his name was Jaehyun but he always told them to call him Jay because it felt cooler that way. Mark witnesses how a longing smile appears on Taeyong’s face every time his mouth forms Jaehyun’s name but it doesn’t stay long. “He was bitten when he tried to save me,” Taeyong mentions, fiddling with his own fingers. “I thought he would heal, but—”

“He didn’t.”

Taeyong glances at him, at how Mark is fighting back the tears that form in his eyes and he exhales, puffs of air flowing from his thin lips. “He didn’t,” Taeyong finishes.

“I’m sorry,” is all Mark has to say after a while and that’s enough, it seems, by the gentle smile on Taeyong’s face. The older man lands a hand on Mark’s dark locks, patting his head like a father to his son, before he stands up and stretches his arms above his head.

“Talking from experience,” Taeyong says, walking away. “He still has at least a day.”

Mark knows he’s talking about Haechan, just like how he’s been thinking about him himself even during Taeyong’s story, and he notices something slips out of the pocket of his jeans. “Taeyong-hyung, you dropped something.”

“No, I didn’t.” He throws a mischievous smile over the shoulder. “Good night, Mark.”

It’s a key. Taeyong’s car key, Mark remembers, as it had jiggled around his hand when he took him in before. And Mark knows that it’s all up to him now, whether he stays or he leaves. Whether he chooses to stay with the living or vanish with the dead. Whether he chooses a few splitting moments with Haechan, or live properly for years with Taeyong.

And the answer is clear.

It’s only been a day. A whole fucking day. But Mark steals Taeyong’s car as expected and rides out the first thing in the morning as if his life depends on it. And maybe it does, because Haechan is his life and he’s losing his light like a dying star.

And if Haechan turns into a black hole, Mark doesn’t mind being sucked out of his life to join him in an eternity of darkness. There’s no light without his sun anyway.

It takes four hours for Mark to drive back to the house he’s grown to love, and he’s already driving as fast as Haechan usually was. The sun shines rather warm on his skin, but he still shivers from the autumn breeze. His heart is thumping so loud in his own ears that everything else feels like a whisper.

“Haechan-ah!” Mark shouts the second he barges into the house—the place they both call home. Please still be here. Please be alive. And he runs from one corner to another, looking for the man who owns his heart, and he can feel his feet crumbling under his own weight when he notices the sight of him.

Haechan is standing in front of the stairs that lead to the basement, and there’s a little part of Mark that wonders perhaps he had been staying there to avoid the sun but he ignores it. He doesn’t care. Mark doesn’t give a fuck if his transformation is nearly complete because when Haechan looks at him, his mouth shaping his name, Mark is already running towards him before his entire mind can process.

Haechan lays still in Mark’s arms as he embraces him with all his strength. “I’m so glad you’re still here,” Mark says, slipping his fingers around Haechan’s ash grey strands that are browner than the first time he met him.

Haechan can hear Mark whispering his name over and over and he notices he’s crying, clutching to him as if he’s the rope that’s saving his life. “Mark…” Haechan buries his face in the crook of Mark’s neck which feels both familiar and distinct at the same time because Mark can no longer smell that honey-like scent Haechan usually has, he can no longer feel his warmth seeping through his clothes, he can no longer hear the playful whiny complains he usually makes.

But he’s still Haechan and that’s what matters.

“Why… did you come back…?”

“I couldn’t do it,” Mark answers, shaking his head frantically. “I couldn’t, Haechannie, I can’t leave you. I don’t care if all we have left is just minutes or even seconds, I just want to be with you.”

Haechan grabs the back of Mark’s shirt, making a sound between a sob and a choke and he probably wants to cry, but he can’t. His skin is rotting, his bodily function has stopped working, and he knows he looks unbearably disgusting but the way Mark holds on to him still makes him feel wanted. Makes him feel loved.

“Mark,” Haechan croaks, pulling away and Mark nearly breaks into tears again when he notices how much paler Haechan gets, even if they’re only separated for a day. The black veins are more prominent, painting his face and his skin like a horrifying tattoo and the lens of his eyes are completely white now,. “Mark, you have to kill me.”

“What—no—”

Haechan pushes the machete he’s been holding in one hand to Mark’s chest. “I’ve tried but I’m…” His cloudy eyes seem to scream in agony. “I’m too afraid… Please, Mark…”

“No, there’s no way—”

“Mark!” Haechan’s paper-thin voice suddenly booms through the air, sending shivers down Mark’s spine. “I can feel it. I’m losing myself and…” There’s this glow in his eyes that forces Mark to take a step back, his heart slamming against his ribcage. “I’m so hungry.”

And it’s not human food he craves, Mark knows that for sure.

It’s frightening, the way Haechan slightly bares his teeth at him, and every inch of his body screams for him to run but Mark plays deaf. “I’ll wait until it’s really over,” Mark promises him. “I’ll wait until you’re really gone. I’ll kill you when there’s no trace of you left.”

But Mark’s not sure whether he can keep his promise even at that point.

Haechan eventually agrees with a tired nod because they both know Mark is much more stubborn than he looks, and he begs him to tie him up so he wouldn’t be able to attack the second he loses control and Mark follows. Haechan sits on the floor with his back pressed against a huge pillar that supports the house and waits as Mark circles a rope around his waist a few times before he ends it with a knot.

“Is it too tight?” Mark asks, worriedly, and it’s so Mark to ask a half-transformed zombie that question so Haechan smiles weakly at him and answers, “Not tight enough, you idiot.”

Mark falls weak at the sight of Haechan’s smile that he loves so much and he leans in to kiss him but Haechan immediately brings his face away.

“Don’t,” Haechan warns, though he’s about to be consumed by the same desire, “You’ll get infected.”

But Mark cups both of his cheeks firmly with his hands, whispering, “I don’t care,” directly against his mouth, not caring about his icy cold skin, or the awful smell of his rotting flesh because underneath all of that, he’s still Haechan and he loves him. So painfully and earnestly so.

“I love you,” Mark whispers between kisses, “I love you. I’ve always been in love with you. Haechannie…”

And Haechan closes his eyes, he can no longer breathe in Mark’s scent like he used to a few days ago and it’s depressing, because Mark always smells like summer and Haechan loves summer. But within a few hours from now, there will only be the darkness that welcomes him like an old friend. And if he’s lucky, if Mark really has the heart to kill him, then he’ll be swallowed by that darkness and it’s okay, as long as he doesn’t bring Mark with him.

Because Mark deserves the light, even if that means taking his own.

And so they wait. They wait with their bodies seated side-by-side, with their fingers intertwined, with Haechan’s head falling on Mark’s shoulder. “Tell me more,” Haechan begs, his eyes heavy and the pain in the pit of his stomach—this craving of blood and human flesh—is maddening, growing and consuming him from the inside. “Tell me why you love me…”

And Mark does it with no hesitation because what he feels never changes. He still loves Haechan’s hair, loves his eyes, loves his voice, loves his touch, no matter how different they are now.

“And I love how you always say I’m a bad cook,” Mark chuckles softly, “but you always eat like it’s your last meal.”

“Because it… could’ve been…,” Haechan’s voice is weak and sore but there’s a tint of humor in his tone. “Your cooking was so bad… it could’ve killed me…”

And Mark laughs, airily and young, the way he always does and Haechan wants to cry because he most likely won’t be able to hear it soon.

“I love how we fight from time to time, with you pouting every time I win an argument,” Mark continues as he gently smiles to himself, “I love how brave you are, how you tend to not overthink stuff and just go with the moment. I wish I could live like you.”

Mark’s voice begins to break the more he speaks, hot tears forming in his eyes. “And I really,” he breathes out between soft sobs, “I really love hearing you sing. You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard and I wish I could…” His entire shoulders begin to shake. “I wish I could hear you sing again, Haechannie…”

Haechan’s breathing becomes slower as his vision starts to fade away. Mark sounds like he’s talking from a distance, as if he’s murmuring underwater. And Haechan feels like he’s falling into a bottomless pit, a monster waiting underneath and suddenly he’s just…

Gone.

“Hae… chan…?”

Mark’s eyes grow wide as he feels Haechan’s teeth sinking into the skin of his neck, gnawing against his flesh before he peels it away with his fangs. Mark’s entire body jolts in pain, sending electricity down to his fingertips. He crawls away from Haechan by instinct, his blood splattering down his shirt and to the wooden floor below him.

Haechan’s eyes are entirely clouded in white, saliva mixed with Mark’s blood dripping from his mouth and he snarls, baring his teeth like a hungry wolf.

Mark tries to call his name but it’s no use. Haechan is something else. Something entirely different. And although the transformation process progresses little by little, once it’s complete, it still takes the air out of Mark’s lungs.

Haechan is struggling to break himself free, his fingers clawing the air, reaching for Mark with such desperation of a starving lion. Mark’s gun feels heavy on the back of his jeans, he knows what to do. He just doesn’t have the will to do it.

“Haechannie—it’s me—please, it’s Mark—”

Haechan roars, dark blood splattering from his mouth as he claws and claws with his legs kicking all over the place. The rope around his waist is the only thing holding him still, keeping them in a safe distance but Mark knows it won’t hold long.

Haechan is frighteningly strong.

Mark’s blood is gushing out of his wound, painting his arm red and warm and it’s starting to make him feel lightheaded. At this point, he realizes he’s going to die by Haechan’s hands or going to turn into the exact creature snarling in front of him now.

Mark hooks his finger around the trigger, aiming the gun at Haechan’s head and he feels like he’s on the verge of vomiting his entire organs.

How can I shoot him—

But he tries. He tries because he has promised the man he loved he would do it. He tries because the world does not deserve seeing Haechan like this. He does not want anyone to look at him and think about him simply as a mindless, flesh-eating zombie when Haechan was so, so much more than that. Haechan was sweet, he was kind though he did have his own mischievousness from time to time and he shone so bright, almost blinding every time Mark looked at him.

So he takes aim and he misses because his hand trembles at the last second. The bullet that sinks to the pillar behind him only makes the creature growls at him louder, and the rope begins to tear apart.

Mark still can’t shake the memory of Haechan’s face when he told him he loved him too, or simply the memory of him—of how he used to. But the monster that he is now is not him. Mark just has to convince himself that.

He’s running out of time.

He takes a closer step, close enough that he won’t be able to miss, and he takes in a deep breath, aiming at Haechan’s temple. He steadies his hand as best as he can before he closes his eyes, feeling hot tears running down his cheek and he whispers, “See you soon, Haechannie.” And he pulls the trigger.

The room quiets down in an instant where Mark can only hear his own frantic breathing, but he doesn’t stay still for long. Not looking at Haechan’s body, he quickly loads his gun with another bullet—his last one—and presses the tip against the side of his head. It feels hot, almost scalding his skin but he doesn’t let himself think. He doesn’t let himself breathe. He doesn’t let himself feel.

And with the click of his gun, he finally smiles.

We’re together now, Haechannie.

***

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rebel-without-cause-x · 4 years

Text

Adventures of Angel and Solana - Biker Princess

Angel Reyes x Daughter

Shout out to the girls on discord for letting me bounce the idea off and giving me a few ideas as well 😘

The sound of little feet running down the stairs made Angel grin, he knew how excited Solana was that her daddy was off they were spending the day together.

Sipping his coffee as she ran into the kitchen, he managed to put the mug on the side just in time for his little ninja to throw herself into his legs. Scooping her up into his arms she placed her hand on his cheek before placing little kisses over his face.

“Morning princesa” he grinned copying her actions. “Did you sleep well?”

“The bestest” she giggled as Angel placed her on the kitchen counter, her little legs swinging back and forth.

“Is your mummy up Lana?” He asked walking over to the fridge, grabbing some things out to make breakfast.

“She’s in the shower” Lana nodded watching Angel’s every movement, she knew when her daddy was off on a Saturday breakfast was pancakes. “Can I wear my princess dress today daddy”

“You can wear whatever you want babygirl” Angel grinned as he made the pancake batter.

After finishing your morning routine, you strolled into the kitchen to grab some breakfast before work.

“Mama daddy made pancakes” Lana grinned pointing at the stack in the middle of the table.

“Well I wonder what that means” you laughed kissing the top of her head before Angel engulfed you in his arms. “What’s your plans today”

“Dunno yet not thought that far in advance” Angel said. “Might go over to the club at some point”

“Papi” Lana giggled jumping on top of Angel.

He knew as soon as he heard the tone of Solana’s voice it was game over, whatever it was she wanted she would get.

“What’s up” Angel said, tapping her nose.

“Why aren’t you a princess like me?” She asked sitting on his lap facing him.

“Because Papi is a biker baby” he nodded, not liking the idea of where this was heading.

“But you can be both, a biker princess” she grinned widening her eyes. “Please Papi and we can have a teaparty and everything”

“I don’t have any princess clothes or wings like you” Angel said trying not look look his daughter in the eyes.

“That’s what the shops are for silly” Lana pouted “pleeeaaaaasse I want you to be a princess with me”

He couldn’t help but look at Lana, one look into them big brown eyes and he caved.

“Come on then” he sighed running his hand over his face “let’s go get some tutus and wings and how about we get some for your tios as well”

Angel felt like a right twat as he out of the car wearing a bright pink tutu and fairy wings that were way too small for him, but it was worth it by the smile on his daughters face.

“What on earth are you wearing” Coco laughed

“He is a biker princess” Lana said proudly slipping her little hand into Angels.

That was it Coco was crying with laughter.

“I wouldn’t laugh too hard ‘Mano got yours in the bag” Angel smirked as Lana lead him inside.

Everyone froze before bursting into laughter at the sight of Angel.

“Did you hit your head this morning?” Ez choked.

Before Angel could speak Lana stomped her foot on the ground making everyone stop laughing.

“Papi is a beautiful biker princess” she said through gritted teeth, getting angry that they were all laughing.

“Hey” Angel said crouching down to her level placing his hand on her shoulder as he saw the tears forming “Don’t get angry babygirl”

“But we brought them tutus” she pouted “and wings”

“Little mama come show me my outfit” Ez said as Angel wiped the tears that were running down her cheek.

As soon as she was out of ear shot Angel turned to his brothers.

“This is a hostage situation okay, one look with that puppy dog look and I caved okay” he said guestiring to the tutu “but when your daughter tells you, your a princess, you are a fucking princesses, no matter how much of an alpha male you are, now if princess Lana wants us to be biker princesses then that’s what we will fucking be”

Everyone stayed silent until Bishop spoke up.

“Well you heard him, now go get your tutu and wings and get this place ready for the best tea party that Lana has ever seen” Bishop said slamming his hands against the table.

And that was what you walked in on after finishing your shift at work, your husband and his brothers dressed in multi colours tutus and fairy wings, they looked hilarious sat around the table drinking apple juice from shot glasses and the discarded wrappers from the chicken nuggets.

Quickly taking a few photos before they noticed you were there, you knew what your Lock Screen was going to be. Coughing to get their attention Solana jumped off Angel’s knee running over to you.

“Mama look we are all princesses” Lana giggled as you bent down to kiss her head.

“And out of all the princesses in the room you are the most beautiful” you grinned knowing it would cause the guys to start bickering.

“Papi is beautiful as well” Lana grinned as you picked her up.

“Think he could do with some lipstick make him look prettier” you smirked placing your bag on the bar, rummaging for your red lipstick.

“You come near me with that gunk and you won’t like the consequences” Angel squealed kicking the chair back and running off wings fluttering as he did.

MAYANS TAGLIST

@chibsytelford @starrynite7114 @minnicelli @woahitslucyylu @talicat713 @trulysuccubus @everyhowlmarksthedead @ifoundmyhappythought @abbiesthings @gemini0410 @angelreyesgirl @destynelseclipsa @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @jadesamhart @hermankopusortizorsumshite @lady-pswrld @ly--canthrope @hennessyauntie @trhett21 @i-love-scott-mccall @corebore123 @mystic-shadows42 @sugary-x-sweet @blessedboo @noz4a2 @skyofficialxx @terminallygenius @sadeyesgf @thewarriorprincessxo @lauraashley93 @leaalfred @angelreyesgirl89 @sheeshgivemeabreak @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @adaydreamaway08

#angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes oneshot #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes #mayans oneshot #mayans fanfic #mayans imagine #mayans mc

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bbdaydreams · 3 years

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Four: Disappear

Warning: suggestive nsfw. Nothing explicit at all. STORY TAKES PLACE AFTER HIGH SCHOOL MEANING THEY ARE NO LONGER MINORS.

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

—————

“Does he sing to all your music while you dance to "Purple Rain"? Does he do all these things, like I used to?”

“Eita! Stop! You’re making us depressed with all the sad songs you’ve been writing!” Ranmaru told the lead vocalist.

Semi put his palm over the strings of the acoustic guitar so they’d stop ringing and let his body relax against the cold wall behind him. “Sorry, can’t help it,” he mumbled.

Semi never got his chance to talk to you after graduation. He did notice that you only blocked his number and not his social medias but that was all he needed to know that you didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to send you a direct message, solely because he was scared you’d end up blocking him on whatever platform he used. The last thing he wanted was to be completely out of your life. Even though he isn’t directly in your life, he still wants to support you from the side lines. Funny how things used to be the other way around.

“Guys, we should make him a tinder,” Subaru spoke.

“What? No! I don’t want one! I’m not ready,” Semi huffed.

“Eita, it’s been like three years. You’re twenty one now. I’m sorry but we’re tired of seeing you like this all the time. We can’t relate to what you’re going through but we can empathize with you. We can imagine how much pain you’re in and we want to help you,” Jiro argued.

“I’ve gone on a couple dates already and they were all bad. What’s talking to even more strangers gonna do?”

“Show you that there’s other people out there. I know you’ve seen me in an out of relationships a lot but I don’t regret a single one. They’ve each taught me something. Also I’m gonna be very blunt, you can’t miss what you never had. You’ve got to let go dude,” Ranmaru added.

“But I-“

“No Eita, you didn’t have them. You were only friends. Just give a chance? Please,” Subaru finished.

Semi took a look around the room before nodding his head yes. He could guess that his band mates were probably tired of dealing with him. They’re in college now trying to finish their education to have a back up plan since they still haven’t taken off yet but at the end of the day he knew the band comes first. It always has but the band is only as fun as you make it to be. They could play their instruments all they want but they have to play them in a way that fits the mood of the song and since Semi has been struggling with writing more upbeat catchy tunes, the sad boy crap gets repetitive. The others had to accommodate to him because of how much trouble he was having.

“I’ll download it now.”

“Y/n! Smile!” Tendou yelled before snapping a picture of you with his phone.

“Tendou, stop!” You laughed while reaching for his phone. He raised his arms to increase the distance and joined with you in your laughter.

“I’m sorry but you’re just so cute.”

You and him were currently walking back to your place from a date. After graduation, Tendou continued school and you moved into a small house with your band mates to make your living situation easier for all of you. You guys have gone on tours and such but you still haven’t had your big break through.

When you got to your home you invited Tendou inside and since no one else was home you didn’t have to greet them all before going into your room. “Whatcha wanna watch?” You asked him as you sat in your bed while flipping through channels.

“I’m down for anything,” he responded, getting into bed with you and attempting to lay on you. Picking a random show, you set the remote down before relaxing and combing your fingers through his hair which was now quiet long and down, different from how he had it in high school.

You two stayed in that position for a couple minutes while your mind started to wander off. Three years since you and the girls, two for Haruka, graduated and chose not to continue with school because the label seemed promising. Your band is currently working on an album after having multiple demos made and working part time jobs to have a more stable source of income. But also three years you spent with Tendou as your lover. And all of that was going to end soon because he was moving across the world for his career.

Three years is a lot of time to spend with someone romantically, especially when you’ve known them for longer. It’s not something you can just up and forget but unfortunately the both of you will have to move on. Tendou was still laying on you peacefully until he left a wet droplet on his face. Immediately he looked up and saw you with your eyes closed in at attempt to stop your tears. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he spoke softly, reaching a hand out to cup your face. You opened your eyes to look at him and gave him a sad smile that he returned. “Even when you cry, you’re beautiful, my paradise.”

Words of comfort was something Tendou never lacked. There was never a single time you’d consider him a bad boyfriend. And you were grateful to have him in your life. “I’m sorry,” you apologized for crying.

“It’s alright,” he laughed before sitting up to kiss you. This was your last day together before he left. Knowing that, you both gradually intensified the kiss that lead to more kisses. Kisses that lead to wandering hands. Wandering hands leading to the action that you both know would be the last time you were intimate together before Tendou left to his home to grab his luggage before heading off to the airport, to take a flight to France.

Once all the aftercare was done you slept in his arms for a good two hours until he woke up from the alarm he set on his phone. He knew better than to leave without saying a word so he woke you up too. “Paradise, wake up. I gotta go.” You unwillingly opened your eyes and rubbed them before focusing on him, his form already up and out of the bed. “I’ll miss you,” he started when he stood at your door, “thank you for giving me a chance.”

You looked at him with glossy eyes as he looked at you with his. Getting up from your bed you managed to make your way towards him to give him a kiss, your guy’s final kiss. Your relationship was now mutually over.

“I had so much fun on our date, Semi! You really are a great guy!”

“Thanks, I try,” Semi laughed as he lead the girl he was seeing to his dorm. Semi has been seeing this girl from his government course for about a month now and things seem to be going pretty well so far.

When they got to his dorm, she noticed his guitar and a couple of papers that had scribbles on them. “Oh? You play guitar? And you write music?” She asked innocently.

“Yeah I do.”

“Could you play me a song? Please?”

“Sure. I’ll even sing you one inspired by you,” Semi spoke smoothly. Being in the scene, Semi did pick up a thing or two on how to talk to girls, Subaru called it fan service.

Picking up the acoustic guitar on its stand, he gestured for her to take a seat on his bed while he sat down in a chair across from her. With the pick he retrieved from his pocket he proceeded to pluck each string to make sure it was tuned before playing a couple chords to make sure they sounded good as well. He looked up at her and took note of the smile on her face before looking back down at the guitar and playing a song he had finished writing about her two days ago. When he had finished, he looked up and was greeted with a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately setting the guitar down and walking towards her to cup her face. “Did you not like the song?”

“Semi, don’t touch me! Who is that song about?” she asked him, standing up so they were more level.

“It’s about you, babe-“

“Don’t call me babe either! Semi, we’re done!”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean why? There’s clearly someone else! There’s no way that song is about me! My eyes aren’t that color and neither is my hair! I sound nothing like the girl in the song that you claim to love!”

“Let me explain-“

“There’s nothing to explain, Semi! Good night. We’re done,” she finished before walking out and slamming Semi’s door in the process. Burying his face into his pillow, Semi let out a grunt, not realizing his roommate had come in.

“I stopped by the cafeteria after my study group. I brought you a juice,” Subaru offered when he saw the ash blonde face down.

“Not in the mood, dude.”

“Fine. No juice for you.”

About two months after you and Tendou split up, your band’s album was released. All four of you were in awe when you first saw your first album in a store.

“It’s like.... our baby,” Haruka stated while looking through the glass.

“I know, right! Our first little baby,” Izumi added.

You and Yui were a couple feet behind them trying to contain your laughter but you had to admit you were just as amazed as them.

“C’mon! Let’s get our own copies!” Yui announced, leading the way inside. The rest of you followed and each picked up a copy ready to purchase it. “Not gonna lie, it makes me feel real fuzzy seeing our name and faces on this.”

“No kidding. We really worked hard for this, didn’t we?” You asked aloud. “Our first of many. Let’s hope Courage My Love can keep up with it.”

Walking towards the counter to pay one after the other the cashier put together that you guys were the ones on the album cover. “Is this you guys?”

“Yep! That’s us,” Izumi smiled. “It’s our first album!”

“Oh my! Congratulations! I recognize this as one of the new ones we got in last nights shipment. I’ll play it throughout the store today to listen,” the cashier told you all.

“Thank you so much, we’d really appreciate that,” you all spoke before heading towards the exit.

Walking through a park on your way to the grocery store, Izumi had a burst of energy she couldn’t help but expel. “We should take a picture!”

“But we have-“ Yui started before she was shushed by the tallest one from the group.

“Shhh- excuse me, sir? Could you take a picture of my friends and I?” she asked sweetly. The older gentleman agreed before asking Izumi how to use her phone. Once she explained to him she told the group what pose they should do. “We should hold them up and just pose with them together!” Complying with her idea, your amateur photographer took a couple pictures before handing the device back to its owner. You all thanked him and looked at the pictures he took before posting it to each of your social medias.

So excited to announce that our album is finally out! You can pick it up anywhere that sells cds or check it out on any music streaming apps. Thank you so much for your support!

-y/n<3

“Yo, this music kinda slaps. What band is this?” Ranmaru asked Semi who currently had the aux cord.

“Courage My Love,” Semi responded which resulted in Subaru letting out a loud groan.

“The hell is your problem?” Ranmaru asked the drummer.

“That’s fucking Y/n’s band! No wonder he’s been listening to it on repeat for the past week!”

Ranmaru immediately stepped on the breaks before turning around in his seat to look at Semi. “Eita, I’m only gonna ask once, give me the aux.”

Giving a small glare to the spikey silver haired bassist, Semi spoke, “no.... I don’t wanna.”

“Eita!” Ranmaru roared before leaning his torso to grab the other’s phone.

Jiro sitting in the passengers seat with wide eyes opted to grab the other end of the aux cord and unplug it directly from the source, resulting in everyone else getting quiet at the lack of music. “No more tunes till we get to the venue.”

Even after taking away aux privileges from him, Semi was quick to find a solution and use his headphones instead. He continued listening to your band’s new album, blown away from how much you’ve changed. He regretted everything he did to you but was also inspired by the woman you’ve become.

—————

a/n: just when I think I’m done with angst I write more and I just say oops to that. Also do you guys like the addition of songs for the chapters? Also sorry for all the jumping around during this chapter

Taglist:

@pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @syaziahvg @discountkiyoko

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader

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all-might-can-smash-me · 4 years

Text

Dating Game

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum x Reader

Summary: you pick up your son’s best friend form his first day of hero work studies and meet Fatgum, the two of you chat up and head to a date...but someone ruins the after mood of the nice date by eavesdropping

Sorry for typos

Masterlist

A far off ticking of a clock seemed to annoy the silence of your apartment as you sat at the cleaned surface of the island counter in your kitchen, a note pad before you as you scribbled items down, pausing to get up and look into the fridge or the cabinets to make sure you wouldn’t forget to add anything to your weekly grocery list. You knew that if you didn’t have it on that trusted list that rest on the counter, it wouldn’t have been bought until the next time you would prepare to go shopping again. Though your scrounging around in one of the cabinets was cut short as your phone began to blare with some corny ringtone that your son had set for you and you didn’t have the heart to change it, but the sudden loudness still gave you a fright, your body seeming to start to fall downward into the floor, but you had caught yourself before the activation of your permeation quirk.

“I need to ask Mirio to set that thing lower..” you huffed out as you rushed over to the counter space where your phone sat, grabbing ahold of it and quickly answering it, though the voice on the other end didn’t give you a chance to say hello.

“Hey mom! Can you pick up me and Tamaki from our work study agencies? It’s raining and Tamaki is coming over anyway today and I also may have forgot my umbrella......” Loudly spoke out your son through the phone. “And I also may have not packed a jacket either like you tell me too....” Upon looking out the window, you gasped as you had finally seemed to notice the downpour of rain outside.

“Mirio! When will you ever get that head screwed onto your head! Your first day and you aren’t even prepared for a rainstorm?” You teased as you had reached your free hand down to push in the stool you once sat on, already shimmying into a rain coat, keys jingling within your hands, umbrella tucked away under your arm.

“Thanks mom! Love you mom!” And an over dramatic kiss noise was made and the call was ended, leaving you to only let out a laugh as you shove away your cellular device. Though you let out a little gasp as you rushed back to the kitchen, grabbing a few juice boxes and snacks before finally making your way back to the front door, shoes placed onto your feet and umbrella at the ready.

Tamaki was first on your list to save from the downpour of rain. You always adored the sweet, shy boy, from when he was just a mere child until now. You could recall those days where Mirio and him would have their sleepovers and he would be too shy to ask for a glass of water or where to hang his coat or place his shoes out of the way. Over the years though he pushed a bit out of his shell, grown a bit more comfortable around you thanks to all the years of knowing you, not all the way completely, but it was enough for you, but most importantly Tamaki was just simply perfect the way he was as a person for Mirio to consider him his best friend and most prized confidante. That was a beautiful thing to know and to see. You were pulled out from your memories of the young boy now turned young man as you finally parked outside the agency. Thankfully you were familiar with the two boys’ agencies by the constant chatter that was always going on within your home about it and Mirio made sure to write them down for you and placed it on the fridge.

“Fatgum agency.....” you mumbled out as you leaned forward to peer up at the building through your windshield through the heavy splatters of rain that pelted your window, but you took now time to brace yourself with your umbrella at the ready, hood pulled over and tightened onto your head as you shoved the car door open, umbrella now over your head as you slammed the door shut and raced for the entrance, bursting in through the doors with a sigh of relief, umbrella drawn closed. Right there standing off to the side, with someone else who strangely looked like the front of the building, seemingly trying to slouch away from the world was Tamaki. A grin crawled onto your lips as you stepped up to him, giving him a tight squeeze “How was your first day? Look at you all grown up...” you gushed out, pulling away to see the bright blush that was upon his cheeks, already twiddling with his fingers “Don’t worry, you can tell me on the way to get Mirio.” You said assuringly as you handed him the umbrella in your hand.

“Is this your mother?” Soon spoke up the man that was with him, a shocked look upon his face as he looked to you. Tamaki only nervously shook his head no, looking expectingly to you. You were all too familiar with that look in his eyes. You took it upon yourself to explain.

“Oh no, but I wish I was! He’s such a sweet and talented boy. He and my son are long time best friends and I’m here to simply pick him up and along with my son from his work studies to avoid that storm out there.” You said, vibrant smile plastered onto your face, your words ended with an equally vibrant giggle as you wrapped an arm around Tamaki’s shoulders, he only giving his shy nods to your words. “We don’t want our future heroes getting sick!” You said as you looked down to Tamaki and soon back up to the other. Tamaki seemed to gulp down a bit of his nervousness and fear to finally speak out quietly.

“Ms.Togata...this is Fatgum, the hero of this agency....” He finally got out, you letting your hand softly pat his back in encouragement and of also pride at him overcoming his nervousness and fear for that single sentence. You gave a little bow to the hero upon the introduction, he returning it back, but that almost shocked expression seemed to still bit etched upon his face. He probably would have been more fearful of you though if you were Tamaki’s mother because of the fact he found your drop dead gorgeous. It was shocking to say the least, to have someone such as yourself standing before him and the absence of a ring also only made matters worse for his nerves.

“Nice to meet you Fatgum, but I really need to go pick up my son and plus I got you and Mirio juice boxes and I don’t want them to get hot and sweat everywhere.” You said with a glance to Tamaki before looking up to the humongous hero before you, but despite him towering over you....he was cute along with the grin that now stretched across his face. With that you were guiding out Tamaki from the agency, now running back to the car, Tamaki taking the liberty to sit in the front seat, which years ago he would have NEVER even thought about doing such a thing, juice box already in his hands, sipping away. What can he say....a juice box shall forever be greatness within his eyes.

“Fatgum and I went on patrol earlier...he eats a lot...” he spoke out quietly as he watched the windshield wipers move back and forth in their fast rhythms. You glanced over at him before looking back down to the street.

“Oh yeah? Well, I guess then the two of you kind of have something in common.” You pointed out with a laugh as you turned down a road, soon the crinkling of a bag of crackers sounded as Tamaki took the liberty to grab one to eat, years ago though he would have been simply too nervous to do so.

“Yes....but all I’ve eaten with him are octopus takoyaki...” he said as he brought up a hand, finger turning into a tenticle before it quickly transformed back into his finger. “Nothing else...but he says the octopus aspect can be useful...” and with that he want back to eating his snack, you only humming along to the soft music that played to the radio. You finally pulled up to Nighteye agency, but you didn’t even get the chance to get out of the car to retrieve your son before he was already running excitedly out of the building, car door yanked open as he flung himself inside, door now shut behind him. It didn’t take long for Mirio to find his juice box and snack, already spilling every single detail of his first day, Tamaki listening intently.

Though as the days went on, Fatgum was left wondering when he would ever see you again. He prayed for rain, but the rain never came. He prayed for anything to get you back into his agency again so he could at least get your number or something. It was too weird to ask Tamaki about it as well and the boy was too hard on himself, shy, nervous, and fearful of everything, but Fatgum new patience was key to guiding him down the right path. Finally the rain did come, which that rain brought you back along with it. Fatgum couldn’t help but let that iconic grin of his stretch across his face as he watched you push through the doors and into the safety of his agency. Tamaki was already scurrying to meet up with you at the doors to leave, but already a voice boomed out.

“Hey! Wait a second!” Shouted out the Hero Fatgum as he made his way over “I got to ask you something!” He said, finally slowly his quickened pace as he got closer. Tamaki took it upon himself to take the car keys from your hand, already rushing out the building and to the car, getting a feeling in his bones that Fatgum was going to try and flirt with you. All the ‘subtle’ questions about you while out on patrol or sitting around in his office didn’t fly over the young adult’s head, so Tamaki already knew he DID NOT want to be standing there to listen to the hero he was doing his work studies with flirt with his best friend’s mom that was basically a mother to himself for the many past years of his life. It was just....ew?

“Yeah, sure, fire away.” You said with a grin as you pulled down the hood that was tightened upon your head, hands smoothing away the frizzy mess that was your hair. If only it wasn’t raining so hard or if only it wasn’t so humid.

“I was just wondering if maybe I could get your number?” He asked, a sheepish smile over powering that grin he tried to keep stretched across his face. He could already feel that blush flood his cheeks, but you only let a laugh out as you nodded your head, tugging out your phone from the depths of your purse.

“Yeah! Of course, look, type your number in mine and I’ll send a text to you.” You offered, handing the phone, a contact already pulled up and ready to be typed in. Relief flooded his insides as he took the phone from your hands carefully, typing in his info before handing it back, which you instantly took ahold of you phone once again, thumbs quickly typing away before that iconic ‘whoop’ noice sounded out to signify a text message had been sent, his own phone within his pocket now chiming.

After that, text message upon text message were sent and received between the two of you. All those text messages combined could probably make the 5th book of Harry Potter look puny. It felt like you were back in high school again, texting away, a little flirt here and there, laughter, etc. Every now and then a phone call would happen, but those always happened away at night where you knew your son was knocked out from sleep and Fatgum was free for a few hours. Until finally...the text you were anticipating was sent.

‘Would you like to go out with me this evening, let’s say at 7:30?’

Which you of course excepted, which led to now, you were slipping a dress over your head, now standing before a mirror, hand smoothing out the material, sooon leaning in close to inspect the makeup that you had placed on before heading in the living room kitchen area, Mirio and Tamaki looking up from their school work and to you.

“Where are you going?” Mirio asked as he watched you nervously look down to your phone as you were beginning to make sure you had everything you needed in your purse. Though you were now fishing out some money from your wallet, placing it down on the counter.

“I’m going out tonight, I’m leaving money on the counter in case you two boys want to order food or pick something up.” You spoke out as you looked over to them. “And since it’s Friday, you two can order a few movies too off of amazon to watch as well, don’t forget to lock the front door and I shouldn’t be too late.” You told them, Mirio only looking to you, confused look on his face.

“Wait! Going out? With who?” He was soon asking excitedly from his sprawled out position at the coffee table that sat in the living room between the tv and the couch, Tamaki staring down to his work, though his head soon shot up, it finally connecting together within his brain that he indeed already knew the answer to that question. You were about to answer it, but the doorbell rang, you rushing over to the door to open it, though your brows furrowed together as you looked to the man before you. He was indeed talll, but he was handsome and you were pretty sure those were muscles under the sleeves of his dress shirt, but that iconic smile that stretched across his face made you wonder.

“Uh I....got a few days off from the angency because I used all my energy during an attack with a villain...this is what happens when I do that, so they give me time to build it all back up.” He said as he gave a little nervously laugh as he scratched the back of his head. You only gave a grin as you stepped aside to let him in.

“Really? Well then these next couple of days I’ll make sure your feeding yourself properly.” You said with a little laugh, closing the door behind him. “Just give me a moment, I still need to go pick out the shoes I’m wearing.” You said as you rushed off, living him to slip his shoes off at the front door to step further into your home. Though he froze as a gasp sounded out.

“Tamaki? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.” Fatgum said with a litttle laugh as he looked to the two boys, school uniforms disheveled from when their hands undid their ties and untucked their shirts the firsts moment they got back from school.

“Wait...” Mirio hummed out as he looked to the man and to his best friend, who seemed to be nervous and a bit embarrassed, before a look of adoration was brought upon his face. “You’re Fatgum?!” He gushed out excitedly. “Mom! You are going out with Fatgum!?” He shouted into the house, your laughter faintly responding from somewhere within the house, you appearing soon with a pair of heels in hand as you grabbed your purse from the counter.

“Yes, I am, why do you sound surprised? You think I’m too old to have a date or something?” You questioned, your son only responding with a laugh, now sitting up from his sprawled out position on the floor as you stepped up to the two boys, teasing kisses and hugs placed onto both. “Also....no rated R movies.” You said as you pointed a finger to them as you and Fatgum were now placing your shoes on at the front door, gaining a groan from Mirio as he let himself flop back onto the ground.

The date was going well, he was exactly the man he had portrayed himself to be through those many text messages shared between the two of you and those late hour phone calls. Now the two of you walked arm and arm throughout the area, watching the weekend groups of people weave in and out through small shops and food stands and through the sidewalks and streets.

“I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.” You said as you let your head lean up against his arm with a content sigh exiting from your lungs. “And then look at you, you could have at least warned me! I hardly even recognized you...” You pulled your head away from his arm, giving him a playful punch to his arm.

“You still recognized me then? Tell me, what gave me away.” He asked with a laugh as his arm soon wrapped around you, hand resting upon your side.

“Your smile....it is kind of the most iconic feature about you as a hero and it looks the same even when you look like this, Fatgum.” You pointed out, leaning into his grasp around you.

“Hey....you know, you can call me Taishiro...” he soon said with a soft smile as he looked down to the ground, watching his feet moving with each footstep he took. “That’s my name, I think I can trust you knowing that.” He said as he looked to you, those words with that soft look upon his face only made your heart skip a beat, a blush now upon your cheeks as you gave him a smile. Soon, a kiss was shared, the both of you now blushing messes.

Two of you were now silently jogging through the hall of the apartment building you lived in, Taishiro’s hands upon your hips as the both you surpressed your giggles and laughter, his lips leaving kisses against your head and cheek as he stood behind you, hands rested at your sides, watching you pull out your keys, unlocking the door and stepping in, he coming in right after. The two of you soon peered out from entrance and into the living room area, seeing a movie, of course it was a horror movie that you were pretty sure was rated R, and the two boys on the floor, wrapped up in blankets and snoring away. You motioned him to follow you after your shoes were taking off along with his, quietly tiptoeing further into the apartment, opening a door to reveal your room, letting him in before closing the door.

“I know I told those two no rated R movies.” You said with a little laugh as you let yourself sit down in front of your vanity, hands already pulling the hair pins you placed in your hair earlier, Taishiro taking it upon himself to let himself sit down on the edge of you bed behind you, watching your reflection in the mirror. Watching your hair falling from their pinned places made his heart throb, the soft glow upon your face from the lamp on the vanity turned on just made him star struck over you.

“Oh they are big boys now, they hardly even seemed bothered by it, they are fast asleep out there.” He commented, watching you only shake your head in disapproval as you removed your jewelry next, soon turning around in the chair you sat in to look at him.

“I’ll wait for the day you have your own children, I’m sure your mind will be changed.” You said with a grin, turning back to look in the mirror. “Can you get the zipper?” You questioned as looked to him through the mirror, which he nodded his head, standing up and now behind you, fingertips gently brushing back your hair over your shoulder to finally gently pull down the zipper, finger tips leaving a soft graze upon the skin on your exposed back as he moved your hair back in place.

“You know....they are asleep...we could go back to my place for a bit...” he said half jokingly as he leaned down, lips gently pressing a few kisses to your cheek, you only blushing and shook your head. “With two kids here? I’ll have to pass you on that offer.” You said as you reached a hand to caress the back of his head, though his head soon shot up, looking to the door.

“What the fuck!?” He soon shouted, you worriedly looking over to where he was looking at, though your worry turned to anger as you looked to your bedroom door. Mirio’s face was poking through, the look of fear plastered on his face as the door now jiggled around.

“Tamaki! I’m stuck!” He shouted out, the whispers of ‘I don’t know what to do’ soon followed along with a tentacle or two poking from under the crevice of the bottom of the door. “What are with the tentacles?” He soon asked, panicking as he look to the tentacles crawling from under the door. Mirio’s face soon slid down to the floor and disappeared with him sucking a huge breath of air in.

“I don’t know! I’m panicking.” Soon stuttered out Tamaki’s voice at Mirio’s question. “Your clothes!” but you were already whipping the door open, revealing a cowering Tamaki and your son who was desperately trying to shove his clothes back on from activating his quirk. Taishiro could only stand behind you, a bright red blush upon his face in embarrassment of the whole situation on his face, but you were only fuming before the two boys.

“You were eavesdropping?” You accused, Mirio finally having his pants on properly, now finding himself in fear of your rage.

“Well....yeah....I just wanted to know if the two of you were going to plan on going on another date or if the date went well because, Uh...it’s cool that you’re dating Fatgum and I’m just really nosy....” you rambled on, Tamaki only seemingly trying to hide behind Mirio.

You only sighed and pinched your brow. “Go on the two of you, back to bed, I’m going to go show Fatgum out...” you said, the two boys quickly disappearing into his room and behind the safety of his door, you now standing in the living room, remote in hand to turn off the tv, the lights now on in the room.

“I am so sorry about that, I don’t know why my son thought that was a good idea.” You apologized, now looking over at him who now helped you by folding the blankets that were scattered on the floor, placing the pillows back onto the couch.

“Actually now looking back at it....it was pretty funny and plus why wouldn’t he? I would try to eavesdropping on the guy my mom is dating.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he followed you to the front door, his shoes being slipped back on. “But still....my place is still open.” He said with a tease, you only letting out a snort before pressing a tiny kiss to his lips.

“Another stunt like that and I just might.”

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cherienymphe · 5 years

Text

Kept Woman II (Steve Rogers x Reader)

warning: dark!possessive!manipulative!Steve, violence, eventual dub-con/ non-con. IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI!

Being in the wrong place at the wrong time finds you at the mercy of a dangerous man with an obsessive hunger that can’t be satisfied. {mafia au}

You woke up feeling simultaneously refreshed and anxious. It was the first time in a long time where you didn’t have to get ready for work and deal with annoying customers and an even more annoying boss. However, you didn’t know what to expect from today. You had spent the past few days basically holed up in the room Natasha had placed you in, and you knew that it couldn’t last forever.

It was the entire size of your apartment alone, and that wasn’t including the equally impressive bathroom. Even if you wanted to bask in your new unaccustomed living situation, you couldn’t, because you knew that it came with a price. You were only here because Steve either didn’t trust you enough to let you go or because he just didn’t want to. The latter worried you, and you couldn’t deny that his words worried you. What use could you possibly be?

You hadn’t seen him nor the other two males, who you learned were Sam and James, since that first day. You’d only been exposed to Natasha and one other girl named Wanda. You’d grown comfortable around them and didn’t want that to be ruined by seeing Steve again. With a sigh you exited your room, peeking your head around the corner. You didn’t see nor hear anyone, so you slowly made your way down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

You basically were free to go where you pleased as long as it wasn’t the other side of the kitchen. The kitchen basically separated one side of the house from the other, and you didn’t know what was on the other side exactly, but you knew that was where Steve resided, and that was more than enough for you. You were surprised to find the kitchen already occupied by Sam, and you sent him a small, nervous smile.

“You do know we’re not going to kill you, right?”

He chuckled as you eyed him, and it was in that moment that James walked through the kitchen.

“I’m still undecided,” he threw out as he breezed past you.

You flinched as the sound of the front door slamming shut reached your ears only a moment later. Sam laughed again before shaking his head.

“He’s joking. Steve decided we’re keeping you around, so…”

“…and what he says goes?”

He rose his eyebrows a bit, probably shocked that you were speaking to him for the first time since the day they kidnapped you.

“Yeah. What he says goes,” he confirmed.

You fiddled with your hands as he pushed a glass of orange juice towards you, and you gratefully accepted it. He eyed you as you took a sip, and you eventually met his gaze.

“I know you have questions. You might as well ask me, because Bucky’s just going to purposefully scare you, and Nat is going to make things seem nicer than what they really are.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and you glanced away.

“And Steve… Well, I don’t know why he decided to keep you around, so I’d hold off on approaching him about anything to be honest,” he finished.

You set your now empty glass down before exhaling.

“Do you guys…like…sell drugs? I mean, what do you do?” you asked, gesturing to the huge house.

Sam smirked, letting out another chuckle.

“We dabble in that a little bit. Usually though, we handle problems for important people who either don’t want to handle it themselves or can’t. A lot of people in this world, their only skill is their money, and they use it well to get what they want,” he honestly answered.

“I don’t really see where I would fit in to all of this,” you mumbled, coming to terms with what you’d been dragged into.

“Truth be told, me either,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what goes through Steve’s head half the time.”

“You’re about to find out.”

You were startled, jumping a bit as his voice reached you, and you looked over at Sam, but he only smirked before hiding his face behind his drink. You forced your gaze to land on the blond man before you and found his gaze already on you.

“Little mouse, come with me.”

You briefly glanced at Sam, but he didn’t meet your eye. Steve didn’t wait for you, and you hurried to catch up with him as he walked through the other side of the house you weren’t allowed to venture in. Your eyes were drawn to his back, taking in how broad it was. With a grimace, you noticed that he wasn’t small by any means, and you swallowed.

Foolish as it was, escaping had settled on your mind here and there. Even more so now that you had an idea of just what they were involved in. You were boring. The only time you’d ever done anything even remotely bad was when you’d gotten in trouble for public intoxication during a stint in high school with some friends. You didn’t want anything to do with any of this.

He held a door open for you, and you sharply inhaled when your shoulder brushed against him as you stepped inside the room. Dread filled you as he closed it shut behind you, and your eyes followed him as he walked around you to stand behind his desk.

“We’ve got a job tonight. There’s going to be a lot of people there, a lot of them important, so we need you to distract someone,” he started.

You frowned in confusion, shuffling on your feet.

“Nat will brief you on the subject and get you something to wear,” he ran his eyes over you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. “We need you to dress the part…make sure you have his full attention.”

Your frown deepened at the implications behind his words, and you considered them for a moment.

“Just…just what are you asking me to do?”

He placed one hand on his desk, the other on his waist as he eyed you, blue eyes sharp and mocking.

“I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m telling you that you’ll go up to some unimportant rich man and entertain him for the evening while we do what needs to be done,” he stated.

You huffed, and his eyes glinted.

“Is that why I’m here? To be some dumb honeypot and lure unsuspecting men into traps and what not? I’m expected to just put on a stupid slinky dress and put my life in danger…”

You trailed off, swallowing the rest of your words as you watched Steve open a drawer before pulling out a gun and calmly placing it on his desk. You eyed it, swallowing as tears collected in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be here. In fact, you shouldn’t be here, but you are because I commanded it so, and I can just as easily…reverse that decision,” he slowly began.

You glared up at him, but he only smirked at you.

“I own you…in any way I see fit, and that means you do what I say. Is that understood?”

You nodded, and he eyed you for a bit before dismissing you.

“Can’t you…I don’t know, talk to him?”

Natasha chuckled as she rifled through her closet, fingers brushing over dresses that were by people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce. You glanced over your shoulder, paranoid that Steve would come bursting in at any moment. She shook her head.

“He’s decided that you’re going to be some use to us, so…that’s what’s going to happen.”

“Look I have a life. I have online classes and friends and family back home-.”

“Yeah, none of that matters anymore,” she said, shoving a bright red dress that no longer fit her into your trembling hands. “You belong to him, now.”

“What does that even mean?” you mumbled.

She threw you a sympathetic smile.

“It won’t be so bad if you don’t make it so. You do this, do what he says, and you can have anything you want.”

“Anything except my freedom,” you added.

She threw you a look before shaking her head and dragging you into her bathroom.

“You’ll have your freedom again, but it’ll take time,” she honestly replied.

“In other words, I’ll have it when I’ve been manipulated into being fiercely loyal,” you scoffed.

She chuckled, dragging out a bag of makeup before leaning against the counter, studying you.

“I like you, Y/N. You’re smart…and a bit of a spitfire. I know that you don’t like this, but I think we could be good friends. Steve decided to spare your life, and I think you could make the most of it. You could find happiness here.”

You glanced away, surprised by the sincerity behind her words.

“…and,” she slowly began, and you looked to her. “I hope you won’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“I-.”

“I see that you’re a lot like me, and if I were in your shoes, being forced to go to an event by my kidnappers with hundreds of people… I would use that opportunity to my advantage,” she continued with a small smirk, raising an eyebrow.

You hoped that your face was unreadable, because the thought had crossed your mind. They were basically trusting you to handle this on your own. You’d be stupid not to try.

“Don’t be like me,” she finished.

You bit your lip, clutching the dress closer before changing the subject.

“How did you guys know my name? When you came to my apartment, you knew my name.”

Her smirk grew.

“Your boss was a real asshole for confiscating phones like that…”

You heaved a heavy sigh, cursing your boss. It wasn’t enough that he’d made your life miserable when he was living, he had to do it even in death too.

“It took nothing to hack into it and find out who our little witness was,” she said with a shrug.

You clenched your jaw, wondering just how your life had ended up here.

“Nat…”

Her eyebrows rose at the use of her nickname, and she straightened, waiting for you to continue.

“Is this really what Steve kept me alive for? I mean…no offense, but you’d be much better at this job than I could ever hope to be. Look at you!”

She set the makeup bag down, considering your question.

“You want the truth?” she quietly asked.

You nodded without hesitation.

“I know Steve. We all do, but just like Sam and Bucky know him in ways I don’t, the same applies to me. I’m certain that tonight is just a test,” she answered.

You blinked.

“A test.”

“Come on. You’ve been here for what? Less than a week, and he’s already sending you out on a somewhat solo mission at a place with hundreds of people? A place where you could easily slip into a crowd and never be heard from again?”

You realized the truth in her words, and your nerves suddenly grew.

“Whether or not you pass this test will determine what really happens to you from here on out…”

Dread filled you, and you didn’t know what possibility was worse; what would happen to you if you failed…or what would happen to you if you passed.

You were currently smiling and batting your lashes at some old man whose name you could barely remember. His beady eyes creeped you out more than the leering smile he kept throwing you, and you mentally insulted Nat with every word you knew. She’d never mentioned that your target had one foot in the grave and could barely keep his decrepit hands to himself.

You glanced around, unable to spot Nat or Sam anywhere. You all had went your separate ways almost immediately after stepping into the building. Your task was clear and concise; keep the old man’s attention on you for duration of the event.

You kept thinking about what Nat said, about the whole outing being a test. Failing scared you, but you at least had a worst possible outcome in mind if that happened. If you passed, on the other hand, you had no idea what that would entail, and the unknown scared you more than anything. That was what drive you to reply with an enthusiastic ‘yes’ when the man before you offered to take you somewhere quieter.

He had a lot of money, and so he had his own private room in the grand building that he kept paid for. At least, that was what he told you as his shaky hands dragged along the curve of your ass as he led you up the stairs. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder, afraid of what you might see, who you might face, and what they might scare you out of doing.

It took no time to knock the old man out with a lamp as soon as the two of you were alone, and while part of you felt bad, an even bigger part was looking out for yourself. You wouldn’t have to fear the outcome of any stupid test if you could get away. With trembling fingers, you undressed yourself and then him, pulling on his suit and holding it to you as best as you could.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your kidnappers were smart, and you had to find a way out of here. They would expect you to take an emergency exit or something, possibly a back way. That was how you found yourself attached to a group of rich socialites who were too drunk to notice you as you all stumbled out of the building. You were surrounded by two girls and a guy in particular while the rest laughed around you.

You kept your head down, only lifting it when you paused at their waiting limo. You took the opportunity to slink around it before crossing the street. You didn’t breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t until you were long gone, but you didn’t even know how to go about doing that. There was no telling what came of your apartment, and even if everything was as you left it, that’d be the first place they’d expect you to go.

The bell rung as you walked into a business about 5 blocks over. The owner, at least you assumed that was who he was, had brown hair and a mustache and beard that almost connected. His dark eyes took you in as you approached.

“Can I use your phone? I know that you probably only let paying customers use it, but it’s an emergency-.”

“Relax, kid. Here. Call whoever you need,” he said, grabbing it off the counter and handing it to you. “I’ll be in the back.”

You thanked him before looking over your shoulder out the window as you dialed. You turned back towards the counter, leg shaking as it rung.

“Come on. Pick up, pick up,” you silently pleaded to whoever would listen.

You glanced around, noticing with a frown that the store was empty. You realized that it was a suit store, and the owner was still in the back. You sighed as it went to voicemail, and you hung up. You tried again, nerves skyrocketing as you turned around. The phone was loud as it clattered to the floor.

Your eyes were wide as they met Steve’s, his imposing figure leaning against the inside of the door. You hadn’t even heard him come in. His face was unreadable as he just…watched you. You blinked, and you realized that your mom had finally picked up. Her voice was coming from your feet, and both you and Steve seemed to realize it at the same moment. However, when he ran for the phone, you ran for the door.

His hand just barely caught onto the suit jacket, but you slipped out of it with ease and the bell rung again as you fled from the shop. Once again, you found yourself running down an empty sidewalk in the middle of the night. Only this time, you knew your pursuer. His legs were longer than yours, body much more in shape, and he caught you in no time.

You screamed as one strong arm wrapped around you, but his other quickly rose, slamming his hand over your mouth as he pushed you into an alley. Your back met the brick wall hard as he pinned you against it, and you winced when he pressed himself against you. Your body was shaking with adrenaline, and his…was not. He was as calm as could be, and that terrified you. Only self-assured people were that calm.

“You know, I do have to commend your cunningness…your effort. An entire 45 minutes had gone by before we even realized you had left,” he quietly praised.

You frowned at him, tears springing to your eyes. Were you supposed to be happy with his appraisal? You pushed against him, but he only pressed himself against you more.

“Uh uh. Now, I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth, and you’re free to scream all you’d like…but this is New York. No one will care, and we both know that. You can try to fight me, but I’m stronger than you, so… Let’s be adults about this, alright?”

Your stomach sank as you realized the truth in his words, and you hesitantly nodded. You sniffed, and you flinched when he reached up to brush a stray tear away.

“So what happens, now?”

He tilted his head at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Nat told me about your little test,” you spat. “I failed. So what happens, now? Are you going to kill me? Chain me up in the basement?”

Steve’s face gave way to understanding, and he chuckled. Your frown deepened at that as he let go of you, pressing one hand to the wall as he leaned in. A strand of blond hair kissed his forehead as a small smirk danced along his pink lips.

“Failed?”

Now it was your turn to be confused, and his smirk grew as he brought his other hand up to brush his thumb over your bottom lip. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What are you talking about? You passed.”

Tags: @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @mcudarklibrary @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @sherrybaby14 @harringtonsblackgf @notyourtypicalrose @sebabestianstan101 @opheliadawnwalker3 @pinkzsugar @villanellevi @cheeseburgersstuff @navybrat817 @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @nightsinneverland @minluc @alexakeyloveloki @grayxswan

#Steve Rogers #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #mafia au #mafia!steve rogers #Dark Fic #marvel #marvel fanfiction

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cheshirehatter666 · 4 years

Text

Surprise Kenma!!

Pairing: Kozume Kenma x Reader

Word Count:1,422

A/N: This is just a quick little thing for Kenmas Birthday.

Kenma woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes, turning to your side of the bed only to find an empty space. He figures that you had let him sleep in since he had a late stream session the night before, and for that he was grateful. Getting out of bed he dragged himself to the dining room expecting you to be there with a plate of his traditional birthday breakfast that you have made for him every year since middle school. But when he turned the corner and didn’t hear your usual ‘Happy Birthday Ken-Ken’ he was confused. Looking around the empty dining room he went into the kitchen to find his birthday breakfast left on the counter with a little glass dome on top of it along with a note.

“Hi Ken-ken, Happy Birthday!!!! I’m sorry I didn’t wake you but you were up so late last night I didn’t want you start off your birthday with a headache. I’m also sorry that I can’t be with you this year, but this business trip to Miyagi is very important. Tendou-san and I have to seal this deal today or we lose the location, but I promise tomorrow I will spend the ENTIRE day with you.

Love you,

(Y/N)”

Reading through the note he vaguely remembered you mentioning this at last nights dinner, you and Tendou have been business partners ever since you both had made a connection with each other after meeting abroad at a culinary school. The both of you had opened up a few pop up pastry shops throughout Tokyo and had been trying to bring one to Miyagi for some time now, so he understood the urgency. And its not like you hadn’t spent his birthday apart before, but he had planned on popping the question at the dinner you two were supposed to go to tonight before this opportunity popped up. Smiling down at your cute little signature one last time a placed it aside and began eating the breakfast you left for him while scrolling through all the birthday notifications on his phone.

After he placed his plate in the sink there was a knock at the door, looking through the peep hole and seeing a head of orange hair he opened the door with a smile, only for it to fall the instant he saw who was behind Hinata. “Go away” he said with a glare as he pulled Hinata inside by the arm slamming the door in Kuroo and Bokutos faces. Turning towards his tangerine friend he gave him a small smile as he said his thanks when given the usual birthday greeting, and ignoring the shouts of protests on the other side of his door.

“What are you doing here Shoyo?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen to grab two bottles of orange juice. (A/N: Canabalism?) Hinata nervously glanced at the front door as the two other men continued to knock angrily. “Ummm, (Y/N)-chan said that she wouldn’t be able to take you out on your birthday this year and asked us if we could.”

“You guys don’t really have to I just planned to play some games today anyways, but you can stay Shoyo we can play LBP”

After saying that he heard the automatic lock on the front door activate then looked up to see Kuroo and Bokuto burst in with Akaashi following the two. Shocked he glared at the first two before nodding towards Akaashi who seemed to be on the phone with someone. Akaashi nodded back as he held out the phone towards him.

“Hello?”

“Ken-ken, you have to go out with them tonight, I am not letting you spend your birthday the same way you spend any other day off you have.” he heard you grumble over the line, he could just imagine the cute little pout you had.

Completely ignoring your order he smiled and asked if you arrived in Miyagi safely, but knowing what he was trying to do you just said that you did and if he wanted his present he would have to go out with the boys. At this he glared slightly at the floor mumbled an okay, and after exchanging I loves you and hanging up he handed Akaashi his phone.

“How did you idiots even know (Y/N) could unlock the door remotely?” he grumbled out as he was dragged to his room to get ready by Kuroo and Bokuto, Hinata and Akaashi trailing behind them. “Oh we didn’t, Akaashi was the one who called her after he parked the car.” Bokuto replied as he went your shared closet. With sighing in defeat he sent a glare towards the silent glasses wearing man as he stood to the side texting someone, allowing his boyfriend to basically destroy his side of the closet. While Kuroo and Hinata seemed to know exactly where to got to get his clothes, apparently you had planned this out with the rooster head the night before, even picking out the outfit he would wear. Which was a pair of black slacks, a light pink button up, and a pair of black high tops. Kenma grumbled as he went to the connecting bathroom to put them on and his frown only deepened when he came out and Kuroo threw a black blazer at his face. Putting it on properly he glared at the group as they basically dragged him out of his apartment and into Akaashi’s car, driving off to who knows where.

(Time Skip: 4 hours later)

Kenma wouldn’t admit it but he had a good time, when he got out of the car he noticed the others were dressed similar to him, and despite the way they were dressed their destination didn’t match their supposed dress code. Apparently, you had booked them an entire three hours at his favorite gaming bar, along with inviting his other friends and old teammates. Near the end after everyone else had left and he was left with the original four who had dragged him out he couldn’t help thinking that it would have been an even better day if you were there with him. As he was climbing up the steps towards your apartment he couldn’t help but smile at his four friends in front of him, he really had some amazing people in his life, not that he’d admit it to them.

Arriving to his front door he reached for the keypad to unlock the door he paused and turned towards his friends, he whispered a small thank before turning back and opening the door before they could reply, only to be stunned by a bunch of confetti being thrown at him and shouts of ‘Surprise!’. In his stunned state Kuroo took advantage and placed a birthday hat on his head while laughing at the shocked look on his childhood best friends face.

All the commotion died down and he was taken out of his shocked state when the lights dimmed and you came around the corner holding a birthday cake you probably made, with candles lit on top singing ‘Happy Birthday’ finishing the song when you stood right in front of him “Happy Birthday, make a wish.” you whispered as he smiled back fondly. Blowing out the candle everyone cheered as someone turned on the lights.

Tendou, who had helped you set up, took the cake out of your hands so that he could take it to the kitchen to plate it up. Your back was to Kenma as you spoke to the red head telling him where the cake knife and plates were. As Kenma stared at you with a smile on his face he couldn’t believe he was ever so lucky to end up with someone like you, so when Hinata asked him what he wished for he decided that he was going to do it now. So when you turned around to ask him if he liked his gift you gasped when you saw him down on one knee holding out the most beautiful ring.

“My wish is for (L/N) (Y/N), to agree to marry me and become Kozume (Y/N)”

With tears in your eyes and your knees giving out you knelt in front of him as you breathed out a shaky ‘yes’ in reply as cheers broke out and he placed the ring on you finger, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Pressing your foreheads together you couldn’t help but giggle at the big grin on his face.

“Happy Birthday Kenma!”

Permanent Tag List: @sckyie

#happy birthday kenma #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader

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baby-n-boo · 3 years

Text

Flu- Little!Tommy, CG!Philza, CG!Wilbur, CG!Puffy Flip!Technoblade Little!Ranboo, Flip!Dream

It had started with a splutter here and there, nothing to worry about, since it was Winter, the season of stray sniffles. Everybody in the SMP-who wasn't a genetically enhanced hybrid of some sort-was suffering from a running nose, maybe a few coughs now and then, but they didn't get super sick. Apart from Tommy, who didn't seem to shake his cold, still spluttering, complaining of a fuzzy headache and sore throat 'to end all sore throats' after a week of suffering. But soon enough, the few-and-far-between coughs had graduated to nearly as often as he breathed, paired with sudden, violent sneezing fits that left him breathless and red-faced, occurring more than he would let on.

But, on the morning that we set our story, Tommy had coughed too hard and woken himself up, a frequent occurrence in the past week or so, though hed never have let on to the rest of the facility that he was barely sleeping. But luckily, though he felt absolutely terrible and fuzzy-headed, like he could lie in bed all day and not feel any more refreshed, he had woken up Big, and was prepared to do what he had to, in order to stay that way. His solitary mission-Coffee-was clear in his mind as he carefully unlocked the clasps on his crib, ensuring he kept his favourite stuffie nearby, for mere novelty purpose of course. He blinked the sleep from his big eyes, impatiently rubbing his running nose on the sleeve of his sleeper as he pulled the side down and slid to the ground, glad for the fact he always woke up dry. He made short work of opening the usually baby-proofed door, CHATTR making no attempt to stop a clearly big Tommy from getting to his early-morning caffeine, all too aware of the violence and threats that usually ensued. The still sleepy man shuffled quietly towards the kitchen, muffling a few spluttering coughs in his stuffie, not wanting to wake the others. CHATTR was very quick to ensure he was informed of a -only really tiny- fact. The time being 4.03am.

Tommy was used to sneaking around early in the morning when he was big, liking to eat as little as he could and get to work with the day’s tasks, as quick as possible, before anyone could stop him. However, a spontaneous sneezing fit made his eyes water, and halted his plans. He had to stop in the middle of the hall, gripping his stomach hard as it started to ache, before slamming backwards into the wall, the explosive sneezes continuing. After only a few more, he slid to the ground, his legs too weak to hold his weight any longer. He hunched into a small ball on the floor to make it stop, the force of the sneezes rocking his small body back and forth, as he gripped his bear close. The sudden noise drew most of his family out of their rooms, sleep-tousled and wary, a few of them clutching weapons in varying stages of usability. But, when they saw the curled up man on the floor, clutching his bear with watery eyes, they soon calmed, used to the sight. Techno, tucking the pistol he had been gripping with deadly aim into a secret sheath in his PJ robe, ever royalty, smiled a little, before crouching down.

"Tom?" He asked carefully, as he put a hand forward. The little often didn't like to be touched by anyone but his carers-Wilbur and Phil, but in this case, he let him put his hand gently on the nearest knee with nary a flinch. Though that may have been because he was in the middle of a painful sounding coughing fit, the barking chokes wracking his body like they were ricocheting off of his ribs. Techno sighed sympathetically, helping him awkwardly to his feet, and leading him down the hall to the kitchen, as most of the others went back to bed for a few more hours sleep, though Wilbur followed the duo like a motherly phantom, already awake for an early workout. Techno was supporting most of Tommy's meagre weight as they slowly moved down the hall, having to take frequent breaks for Tommy to cough up a lung or sneeze some more, resisting the urge to scoop him up. But finally, they made it, Techno guiding Tommy to his highchair, ignoring his protests as he strapped him in. "You're safer here. If you end up all curled up like you did out there, you might fall off a normal seat and hurt yourself. So even if you don't like it, you're going in here." He explained, buckling up the straps and hooking the tray on, as Wilbur took a seat at the table, still silent. Once Tommy had started coughing again, rendering himself unable to continue the rather one-sided debate, Techno swept across the kitchen, grabbing a water for Wilbur, and flipping on the coffee maker for himself, and Tommy, though that was more of a courtesy than him actually having any purpose of giving it to him.

Wilbur had regarded the entire scene with worried eyes, sure that the other was deeply in his head-space, and concerned about the coughing that just did not seem to be ending, as Tommy hunched over the white plastic tray, his bear tucked securely into his lap. Call it brotherly intuition, but Wilbur knew that Tommy wasn't going to admit how deep he was falling into headspace, regardless of how terrible he felt, so, making a gesture towards him that he knew Techno caught, to signal as such, he looked away. Taking a gulp of the water Techno had handed him to take his mind off of Tommy's suffering, and to keep from running to a still sleeping Phil for comfort, Wilbur sighed, and pushed off of the chair, instead pulling on his sneakers. With a grunt, he pulled the door open and forced himself out of it, despite the fact that every part of him screamed to go back and capture the suffering man in a warm embrace, letting the door sweep shut behind him in a very unsatisfyingly silent movement, as he moved to work out his frustrations with a jog to warm up, before hitting the gym. The rhythmic slapping of his shoes on the springy asphalt sidewalk soon pushed all thoughts of worry out of his head, instead making his adrenaline surge, and his breath shorten ever so slightly, as he headed for his third lap of the course Big Tommy had set up for him the last time he'd gone on a renovating spree. Wilbur, pushing his body even further in a self-punishing burst of speed and endurance, that would have knocked out any sane, normal person, tried his hardest to get the last niggling feelings of something being wrong out of the back of his head, hearing slower footfalls behind him as his good friend, Charlie joined him silently for a few goes around.

Meanwhile, back in the facility mandated apartment, Techno had finished brewing the coffee, and, instead, was trying to convince Tommy to take his medicine-suspended in juice-from a sippy cup, unsuccessfully. "Come on, Tom, It's even got your face on." he encouraged, waving it in his face, but, burying his face in his teddy, he whined, and kept turning away. Sighing a little, Techno turned away, placing the Sippy back on the counter, and rubbed his eyes, more out of frustration than exhaustion, before turning back to the boy. "How about we go find Phil? He'll know what to do. And, he shoulda been up for this morning's jog with Wilbur." He suggested, unlatching the tray from the high chair, and popping the straps open from around Tommy. Exhausted, he slumped forward, leaving Tech to catch his weight, as he sniffled miserably into the silk-clad shoulder. "Yeah. Phil." He whispered, the words rasping painfully through his throat, not even caring as Techno continued to carry him down the hall towards Phil's room. His gait was smooth, and silent on the carpeted floor, thankfully not jostling his already pounding head, and he soon drifted back to sleep, free from the throes of endless coughing, at least for a short while.

Carefully pushing into Phil's room, still cradling Tommy to his side, Techno scoffed at the man, spread-eagled on the bed, his quilts not even bothering to cover a little of his bare chest, and pinched his leg, to wake him. His black PJ bottoms had bunched up about his legs in his sleep, making him look more like a medieval messenger than a modern day miner and father, but, as Techno placed a still sleeping Tommy down in the bed-side crib, he rolled over, his snores hitching, and caught sight of the duo through bleary eyes. "te’no?" he asked groggily, slurring his syllables together, before stifling a yawn with his hand, using the other to push himself up to a sitting position, and taking note of the red faced, whining in his sleep Tommy next to him. "Is he okay?" he worried, reaching over to feel the boy's forehead, all traces of sleep now gone from his voice. Techno nodded, with a grim face, and, making sure Tommy's teddy was securely tucked next to him for when he woke up, perched on the end of Phil's bed, staring down into his lap, at the tightly clasped hands. "He woke us all up really early this morning, coughing fit to die in the hall, but, when we tried to help him, he insisted he was big, and refused to take his medicine sippy. He asked to come see you, cause Wilbur's gone on a run to get rid of his nervous fluttering energy. I swear, sometimes he's more like a new mother than a brother to this boy." He weakly joked, but inside, the fear was coiling up, making him feel a little nauseous.

CHATTR, who had been silent up to this point, now piped up, and, in their ever-patient voice, alerted the two concerned adults. "It appears that Mister Innit is suffering from a very major form of influenza B. Having gone untreated for so long, it is at a very high risk of developing into pneumonia." He informed them, before illuminating the bedroom softly. "Might I recommend taking swift and decisive action when the young master awakens?" he mentioned, as Phil slapped a hand over his mouth. Shakily, he started hitting himself in the head with his good arm, his breath speeding up as he worked himself into a panic. "How did I not see it before?" He murmured angrily to himself, even as Techo grabbed his arm, and held it down to stop him. "Phil, its only flu. It's not your responsibility to notice everything about Tom. Thats why we are all here." He explained quietly, trying to calm him, though he just laughed hollowly, and kept staring at the sleeping boy. "Yeah. Influenza B. The one that can be fatal. Wilbur had it once, when we were younger. He almost died. Tech, promise me that Tom isn't gonna die! Tell me it's not true!" he panicked, turning to the pink headed voice of reason with tears in his eyes, as his voice increased in volume. He shook his head, unable to promise anything, but pulled Phil into a tight hug instead. "We're all gonna fight for him, we are gonna do even more than our best to make sure that doesn't happen." He assured, his eyes lingering on the little, who had now started tossing and turning, sweating through his onesie in distress.

The two of them stayed like that, watching over Tommy, and occasionally whispering to each other, for what felt like hours, until they heard a door slam open, clearly having been pushed, and Tubbo's voice filling the quiet facility, asking after Tommy. An answering cry from one of the many little's rooms followed, sounding like a fussy Ranboo, shortly before a berating from whomever had gotten up to care for the little-probably Puffy. The apology was drowned out by CHATTR entering back into the moment, and, a faint tinge of amusement in their voice, relayed some information. "Master Underscore is insisting I let him see Mister Innit. May he gain entrance?" he asked, and, a finger over his lips, Techno nodded, beckoning for the door to be opened. It swung open, and, almost immediately, Tubbo was upon them, asking hundreds of questions about Tommy, and why he wasn't up to go with him on adventures. Techno was quick to shush him, and point towards the crib, where Tommy, now starting to stir, was lain, subject to Phil's careful stroking of his hair.

"Oh, he's little." Was the teen's only response, instead deciding to sit on the edge of the bed, in the spot Techno had just vacated, and look on. "I know I have the hotel after school today, but can I stay anyway? I wanna playyyy." he asked hopefully, but Techno shrugged. "Since Tom's kinda outta commission, you're gonna hafta ask Uncle Sam." He smiled, watching as he slumped. "But Techyyyyyy..." he whined, turning his best puppy eyes on him, but Techno just chuckled quietly. "You'd have a better chance of success challenging your Uncle over there to a duel. Now go grab some breakfast, and get your butt outside, you tyke. Maybe I'll meet you at the park later. But only if you're good." He ordered jokingly, tousling Tubbo’s hair, before giving him a tight hug. He huffed, but obliged, wrapping his arms around Phil's middle too, and squeezing as tight as he could, laughing evilly when the older man groaned. "My bones are frail, Tubs. I'm too old for that!" he complained, reciprocating the tight hug with his free arm, which the younger boy valiantly took with nearly no complaint. Laughing, he danced out of reach as Phil tried to ruffle his, only just re-tamed, hair, a mischievous smile on his face, and smiled happily towards Tommy, who was silently watching the exchange through the bars of the crib with red eyes.

"Sorry nugget, guess you're in quarantine now?" he apologized, sending an air hug across the room, and grinning as he got to use one of the cute child nicknames Tommy always used to give him. "Keep me posted?" Tubbo asked hopefully, his grin only widening when Techno whispered an "Of course." Before he ran from the room energetically, already unbuttoning his formal shirt sleeves. "No running! And keep your shirt on, it’s nice-huh, there's no point." Techno came to the door, calling after Tubbo, shaking his head as he didn't listen anyway. Re-entering the room, he noticed Phil lifting Tommy out of the crib, and noticed just how deathly pale he had gotten over the past few weeks, as his head lolled weakly over the other man's arm and his laboured breathing became even more pronounced. A faint smell of dirty diaper was emanating from his direction, but, as Phil moved to take him to the changing table in the bathroom, he whined, and tried to wiggle out of the older man's hold. "I can do it myself, Phil." he murmured, his throat making his voice raspy and whispery, but, pretending he couldn't hear the boy, Phil carried on, laying the boy down on the changing table, before unbuttoning his onesie, and whistling at the diaper underneath.

Turning away to give the two some privacy, Techno started busying himself with straightening up the ornaments on top of the dresser, and the rumpled blankets on the bed, flinching every-time a rough cough sounded about the room, or a weak whine came from the boy at a cold wipe. It was almost unbearable, but, just as he was at his wit's end, about to leave, Phil padded back out, a limp, weak Tommy in his arms, wearing nothing but his diaper and a light blue plastic cover to hold back from leakage. Techno smiled softly, holding his arms out to hold the little, and shivered as his feverishly hot skin brushed against his arm when the boy was passed over. He was still speaking, trying to insist he was fine, but his voice was nearly all gone now, occasional letters breaking through the phlegmy stupor of his illness, so, ignoring it, techno pulled a light yellow shirt out of the drawer dedicated for Will’s little stuff, sure he wouldn't mind, and tugged it over Tommy's head, to give him at least a little modesty, watching as it fell to his knees comfortably. He reached back for a pair of sweatpants, but, a slight head shake from Phil, awkwardly lingering in the doorway, ready to leave, had tech withdrawing his hand, and, instead, carrying the little boy, his breaths now wheezing loudly as they went in and out, over to his CG.

Phil was quick to scoop the little boy back into his arms, cuddling him tight against his chest as if he was scared the boy might just turn out to be a hallucination, a figment of his imagination, disregarding the loud wheezing noises as he struggled to breathe. CHATTR lit the corridor in a dim blue, signifying they had a message, but their words came through muffled, as if underwater, through the stupor of fear and concern that Techno and Phil had surrounded themselves with. "Ice. We need Ice." The piglin murmured, holding up a finger to emphasise his point, as they reached the communal living area, where a little Ranboo was splayed across an entire couch, having his hair combed gently by Puffy , as he sobbed quietly, clearly unstable after his sudden awakening via over-excited Tubbo. Phil nodded numbly, clutching Tommy to himself as he looked around for Wilbur, who still hadn't returned from his run, Techno disappearing off to the ice machine in the front of the fridge.

Wrapping the cubes in a nearby hand-towel, he bound it shut, and brought it back over, gently placing it under the oversized shirt, onto Tommy's stomach, at which point he flinched, and started writhing to get away from it. However, even as his uncomfortable noises set Ranboo's wailing off again, techno stubbornly kept the makeshift icepack where it was, gently massaging the cold sensation into the little boys stomach, until he lost a little of the drawn, jaundiced aura he'd been sporting. "There we go. I bet that feels a little better, eh?" He asked, even as he smiled a little, and snuggled a little closer to Phils chest, having regained a tiny portion of his strength. The action, however, was merely a preceding event to a violent sneeze, that sent his head rocketing backwards so rapidly, Techno instantly started looking for signs of a broken neck, and, upon inhaling afterwards, his breath caught in his phlegmy throat, choking him to a sort of pinky-violet hue.

Puffy, sighing quietly, scooped Ranboo up onto her hip, and shuffled back towards the elevator, muttering something about never getting any peace, leaving the trio stood in the middle of the room alone. Techno kept the ice pack on Tommy's stomach, even as Phil shuffled awkwardly foot to foot, trying to look anywhere but at the little boy in his arms,even as the phlegm shifted, the violet finally subsided, and the boy started hiccoughing, tears streaming down his face that weren't all brought on by the coughing. "i'm big." He whispered, burrowing deeper into the shirt, and the ice pack, looking a tiny bit better, with the ministrations, though there was still a long way to go. "I promise. I'm big."

"Well, if you're so big, how about you go to your br-Techno, and let me go get us both a drink, eh?" Phil questioned, watching as the boy squirmed gently to get free. Techno smiled faintly, holding his arms out. "Come here, titch." He joked, but Tommy pouted, shaking his head. "Big enough to walk." He insisted quietly, holding the ice to his belly with one arm, leaving a wet patch on the yellow shirt. Sharing a quick questioning look with Phil, in which they seems to converse entirely, Tech raised an eyebrow, and warned. "I'll let you walk, but you have to hold my hand, in case you fall over." He compromised, seeing as Tommy weighed up the positives and negatives. "Mkay. Stiw want coffee tho." He mumbled, still using little vernacular, regardless of how old he claimed he was.

"Good boy. Come on then, let's go sit down, eh?" Techno enthused, helping him down from Phil’s arms. He nodded gently, holding himself like a cup filled to the brim, as he made a few tentative steps. "I cant promise coffee, Tom, but certainly a drink of some kind." Phil called from the kitchen, picking up the rejected medicine sippy from earlier, and adding it to the line up of mugs he was gonna take through. If the coffee machine would finish brewing the new jug already. "Come onnn." He groaned, combing a hand through his messy bed head, making a mental note to get a cut, as he drummed regularly on the counter top with his other hand. From where he was stood, he could only just see to the couch, where Techno was trying to convince Tommy to lie down, saying it'd 'help his head feel better'. A faint smile crept onto his face at the mini-tantrum the boy was throwing on mute, though, with a sigh, he knew that illness was no excuse for misbehaviour.

"Tommy." He warned, watching as the boy stiffened. "Behave, and do what Tech says. He knows how to help right now." He ordered, watching as he clambered onto the couch, and begrudgingly laid his head in the piglin’s lap. The coffee machine was still brewing a minute or two of silence later, seeming to go slow on purpose, so, turning to get a snack from the fridge, Phil heard the hall phone ring, and shook his head fondly, the old fashioned phone being one of Wilbur's little luxuries, even though they had CHATTR for it all. "Tech, that'll be Will saying when he'll be back, can you just quickly go and grab it? I'm sure Tom will be okay for a sec." He asked, hearing as techno pushed off of the couch again. There was the quiet sound of speaking from the hall for a few seconds, not even a minute, before he laughed, and bade the man on the other end of the phone a quick goodbye.

"About five-" he came through, calling back to Phil, before cutting himself off. "Phil? Where's Tommy?" He asked, fear in his-usually calm-voice. He whirled around, expecting to see him cracking up, or for the little boy helping himself to a now finally brewed coffee, but instead, techno was searching round the couch, no sick little boy in sight. The two of them stood there, shell shocked that they could take their eyes off of the boy for thirty seconds and lose him, until the elevator pinged, indicating that it had docked somewhere, and Phils head shot up. "oh no!" He gasped, scrambling towards the elevator. "Huh? I dont get it?" Techno furrowed his brows in confusion, still stood where he was, even as Phil started hammering the button for the doors. "He thinks he's big. Your lab!" He explained breathlessly, dashing inside as the elevator arrived.

_Techno gaped back, before sprinting into the elevator after Phil, grabbing his hands. "How did we not guess!" He shouted, as the metal box shot downwards at breakneck speed. Phil just shook his head, nervously pacing, too choked by fear to respond. The doors quickly opened again, and Phil went barrelling out, down the corridor towards Techno’s lab, the biggest one on the compound, but also the only one with the windows tinted black so nobody could see inside, closely trailed by Techno, who had the sense to turn off the security cameras as they passed, so nobody else could see what they were up to if they happened to look. He grabbed Phil’s arm as he raised it to pound on the door, instead knocking gently and politely. "Tommy? Are you in there? We’re not mad at you for running off, We just want to know you're safe." He called through the door, hearing the quiet sounds of items clinking into a pot and an occasional bubbling.

"Can...can you open the door?" He asked, hearing a stubborn voice waft back through, carrying a heavy, stuffy nosed denial, as the bubbling sounds stepped up a notch. "No' comin owt. Got importan stuff ta do." It yelled, as quiet footsteps could be heard, coming down the hall towards the lab, the long, light footfalls belying the fact Wilbur was back, paired with squared off, militant ones they knew too well. Dream. "Well, then you don't have to come out." He murmured back through the door, placing a hand on the cold glass, as Wilbur, looking determined, grew level with them. "But...can you let us in?" Techno purposefully kept his voice quiet and calm, one arm out to hold the two men- Tommy's other carers - back from smashing straight through the glass, like it looked like they wanted to. And, really, he couldn't blame them. If he had a sick little purposefully putting themself in danger, he would probably move heaven and earth to protect them too. But luckily, he didn't have anything of the sort. Just a sense of solidarity deep in his core, with the little boy on the other side of the-bulletproof-glass.

However, trying to be nice just wasn't working, as he quickly realised, sighing as he withdrew his hand, and stepped aside, for one of the other two to try. "Don't go crashing in just yet." He whisper warned them, before leaning against the opposite wall, watching as Phil tried to step forward. However, he was cut off by Dream, who nodded once, curtly, and stepped up to the glass, placing his hand exactly where Techno's had been only a moment or two before. He took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back to give himself a more formidable posture, that made even Will shiver slightly, and dropped his voice to the deepest register. That level was usually reserved for full Daddy Mode, when one of his kids had done something super bad, like drawn on the walls with crayon. Techno, being a particularly mischievous switch, had had his fair share of that voice, only a hair of bravery keeping him from reaching forward to hold Will’s hand for support, despite the fact he was entirely big. "Tommy." Dream rumbled, entirely unamused by the little's behavior. "I'm going to count to three. By then, this door had better be open, or you are in some serious trouble." The order left no room for the boy to disobey, but, as the brewing stands kicked up into noisy motion, Dream was unphased, beginning his countdown. "One. I dont hear this door unlocking, Thomas." He spoke over the sound, voice clear as crystal. And just as cutting.

Subtly, he beckoned Phil and Wilbur over to his side, hissing his plan so quietly, Techno was surprised they could even hear it themselves. Nodding briefly, Phil placed his other hand on the glass like a rehearsed move, whilst Wilbur starting quietly asking CHATTR if they could get the three of them through the door, and Dream refocussed his attention on the countdown. "Two. I've got your brother and dad here now too. You better be telling CHATTR to let us in, or you're in for the longest corner time of your life, young man." Dream continued, knowing for a fact, by the continued sounds of brewing, that Tommy wasn't even trying to let them in. "Dun hear you!" He shouted back, clearly not entirely big, almost as if, in his extremely sick stupor, he was daring them to do their worst. Which, of course, they could, and would if it were not for some level of civility still keeping them from breaking in.

"One." Phil chimed in for the last number, the two of their deep Carer Voices legitimately making Techno wish he had brought his stuffed dog for moral support, as he felt himself fall slightly smaller, just from the environmental tension. "Tommy, you're already going to have corner time, you wanna make it longer? Don't make me come in there and get you." Philza warned, a vein beginning to pop in his neck at the effort of holding himself back, though he was just greeted by a stubborn silence. Dream sighed heavily, turning slightly so his shoulder was perpendicular to the door, and stepped into place to start battering the door down. "Zero. You're out of time. I'm coming in now. Get away from the door." Dream called through, starting to swing at the door, connecting with loud thuds. "I can and will break this, Thomas." He connected again, as the sound of the glass groaning echoed about the hall, muffling a scared whine from Techno, as he slipped properly down. He genuinely hated when anyone got all scary like this, especially Dream or Phil, it always made him feel like he was in a massive amount of trouble, like they were going to send him back to The Red Place if he misbehaved anymore. Logically, he knew that would never happen, that they all loved him too much, but, in littlespace, there was nothing he could think of more than just being sent back.

However, Will, who had backed away from the glass as Dream had started trying to smash through the door, looked over with concern, sure that he had heard something other than the hollow thuds of shoulder against glass. When he looked at Techno though, all he could see was an entirely composed, only slightly concerned mask on the piglin’s face, completely closed off to any other emotion, or study. Even for his empathetic experience, that had enabled him to tell when the slightest muscle feathered to bely a falsification, he couldn't tell a single thing about his expression. "So..." he started, trying to start up a conversation with Techno, sounding casual, as if the glass wasn't splintering under Phil’s ministrations. Will smiled weakly, but encouragingly as two big, innocent eyes focused up on him, and he released the seemingly forced casual position he had been maintaining. "Yeah..." he spoke carefully, as if he was trying to avoid saying something. Techno stepped slightly closer, resting his hand on Wilbur’s arm, and smiled back, a little toothily. "Gunna be okay." He murmured, so that only the two of them could hear. Will nodded, staring off into the void of the glass, and sighed. "Well, that's if Dream leaves any of him left to be okay." He chuckled slightly, seeing that the glass was only a couple of seconds away from shattering. He didn't want Techno to see that, the poor little one. He hated loud noises, and it wasn't like anyone could blame him, with his past.

"Hey, how about you go tell Puffy that we'll be bringing Tommy up in a minute or two, eh?" he asked, physically restraining himself from ruffling Techno’s hair as he nodded, and ran off, clearly little now, and chuckled. The sweet moment was quickly broken by the loud crash of Dream finally breaking through the glass,though, having resorted to kicking so he didn't fall straight through.

At first glance, it seemed like there was nobody in the lab, glass spread across the floor, and a half finished...mess of potion ingredients on the table, no interpretation of the pieces seeming to be instantly available. One of the downsides of Tommy being little and in the lab. Luckily, there was no blood this time, just a cowering boy under the table, choking on his own tears as he held his teddy close. "I sorry!" he shouted, as the two CGs gently stepped over the danger, to find him. He didn't dare get out from under the table, but, as Will held Dream back, and bent down himself, he did extend his arms for help. "Wilby, I sorry!" he hiccoughed, butt shuffling slightly closer so that Will could safely pull him into his arms, to swing him out of the small, enclosed space, into the light. He hissed slightly at the sudden change of light, burying his face deep in his unofficial brother’s shoulder, still sobbing.

"Hey hey hey, what are all these tears about? Its okay, we’ve got you now. How about we get out of this icky grownup lab, and we go back to somewhere safe? Wanna go find teddy?" Wilbur comforted, bouncing Tommy in his arms as he slowly inched out of the room, glaring at Dream for his violent threats towards the baby. Obviously he had needed something for disobeying when they told him to do things, but it wasn't entirely necessary to have scared the boy, especially in his currently vulnerable state. "Come on, honey, dry up those tears, its okay." Phil carried on, as the trio started back down the hall, Tommy still whining into Will’s shirt, wetting it with both snot and tears, in- if the adult was completely honest- a rather disgusting mix. Tommy just shook his head, nestling deeper into the soft cotton, still struggling to draw entire breaths, through his phlegmy throat, and the tears, and kept sobbing, not even paying attention as Will stepped into the elevator, hearing phil quietly ordering CHATTR to do certain things as he shifted his hand holds. One hand went to the back of Tommy's head, holding him close so he couldn't have looked at his surroundings, even if he had wanted to, since Dream was shadowing the two of them, and his carers really didn't want the boy to have another issue, when he was still on the comedown from the previous one.

When the small trio walked back into the main, communal room, they were faced with a solemn Puffy, and a Techno, who had fully given in to being small now, clutching his bunny as he hid behind Puffy-a small pink paci now bobbing securely in his mouth, absolutely from Ranboo, who was half asleep and watching cartoons on the big view screen, completely oblivious to what else was going on. Dream hadn't known what Phil had asked for, having been in the elevator after the other two, which, of course, had been planned, so he looked confused when Puffy didn't even say hello to either of them. "Alright, im going to go get this little one sorted out, if you could just wait here? I wanna talk to both of you about something once he's sorted." Phil explained, taking Tommy from Will, and heading down the corridor to Tommy's nursery, where he knew Tommy could calm a little easier, without Dream being in his view-line. Faintly, he could hear Dream starting to ask Puffy and Will what was up, and smiled, enjoying keeping him in the dark, hoping that it would reinforce his point that panic isn't always the best response. Puffy was certainly a strong enough personality-and caregiver-to deal with Dream’s endless questioning.

Dream’s voice, demanding to know what was going on in his biggest sounding way, faded away relatively quickly as Phil hurried down the hall with the baby in his arms, his sick sounds of wheezy breathing now pretty normal, though they still ripped out his heartstrings every time a wheeze would devolve into a cough. "Oh Toms, its okay, we're gunna get you all bundled up with your teddy, and your blankie, Mkay?" Phil monologued, as he turned into the nursery with a sigh of relief, placing the little on his flower print changing table. "Do you want your paci whilst i get your cute little butt all cleaned up?" He asked, not getting an answer over the little boy's wheezes, but one hand weakly curled into a grabbing motion as a few tears leaked down the baby's face. Phil wasted no time in plopping a cute little yellow pacifier into Tommy's mouth, which he immediately latched onto, suckling slowly as he drifted. "Hey baby? Stay with me honey." Phil begged, rising panic starting to choke him as Tommy's eyes started to drift shut again. "m seep." Tommy moaned, rubbing an eye slowly and wearily. Normally, sleep would be just what the doctor ordered, but, too scared to leave his baby, even for a nap, Phil shook his head. "Not yet bug. We can go ask Aunt Puffy to let you watch cartoons with Ranboo if you want? I'll get you some ice. And we can cuddle." He didn't want to smother the little boy, but he just looked so vulnerable, Wilbur's yellow shirt hanging off of his chest as he slowly moved, whining sadly.

"I know. I know, it hurts." Phil whispered, gathering the baby into his arms gently, flinching slightly as his boiling skin came into contact with normal temperature skin. "Collll" another whine. . Phil winced at this, hating the fact that the boy was so miserable. "Hey, it's okay, baby. Here. Take Teddy, and hold him tight. Ill grab you your blankie." He pressed the small, fluffy bear back into Tommy's arms, waiting as he sluggishly moved to accommodate it. "Well done honey." He praised, leaning over the edge of the crib, trying to find the light yellow blanket the boy loved so much. Of course, like everything, it was tangled around the bars of the crib, refusing to move as he tugged at it. Sighing, he weighed up the positive and negative ideas running through his head, eventually just rolling down the side of the crib and putting Tommy down on the mattress.

Flinching at the heartbroken wails that then started up, Phil employed both hands to untangle the soft material, which he quickly threw over his arm, lifting a red-faced Tommy back up. "Now that wasn't needed, now was it, baby? I only put you down so I could get the blankie you wanted, we don't need to be worrying." Phil admonished, lighthearted, throwing the edges of the blankie over his baby, not enough to sweat him out, but enough to cover the bare skin. "Now how about we go see Will? I heard he has a lot of cuddles for sick little boys like you." Tommy just whined, nestling his face between his teddy and his cg’s chest, snuffling sadly. "Awe, bunny, you really are sad. I've never known you to turn down cuddles." Phil murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as he headed back down the hall to the main room.

The scene was almost the same as when he left, Ranboo still blinking blearily at the view screen, Will now sat beside him, helping hold his sippy for him, and Techno still shadowing Puffy with her rabbit clutched determinedly between her hands. But this time, Dream wasn't demanding answers from anyone. Instead, he was sat way off in the corner, at the table, glaring angrily at everyone as he methodically ripped apart bits of lettuce from a salad bowl. Heading over to Puffy, Phil silently raised an eyebrow, prompting the only free caregiver in the room to try to explain what was up. "When I kept ignoring him, he gradually got meaner, and I put him in timeout. At the minute, he's trying to deny he's little enough for time out, but I think he's about.... five or six right now?" She estimated, as they both watched Dream move from one shredded leaf to a different one, his movements too jerky and rough for him to fully be his big self.

Phil nodded in understanding, smiling a grateful thanks as he looked down into Tommy's face, and saw him drifting off. "I'm being such a papa bear today. Can you take him?" he whispered to Puffy, who looked like she was gearing up to take the boy even before she had been asked. The nod that followed was too enthusiastic for anybody to have said no, so, chuckling slightly, Phil held out the baby to his aunt, who made short work of whisking him away to the couch. "He probably needs something to eat soon!" Phil called after the caregiver, who just held up a full bottle of formula, well prepared for the eventuality of having to look after Tommy. It was sort of a well-known fact that Phil exhausted all of his parenting in short bursts of nitro-papa whenever one of his babies was ill, so everyone prepared for being asked to take care of them for respite purposes.

Shaking his head fondly at Puffy’s pre-preparation, Phil's eyes lingered worriedly on his baby for a second, before ripping them away, sure that she would do a great job looking after him. After all, she had been caregiving for much more difficult littles than Tommy, which made for a lot of practice. Instead, he focused his attention on the moody little at the table, heading over there with many many thoughts in his head about what to say to him. But, when he actually got over there, all he could see was tears threatening to fall, and he melted. There was a reason he usually tag teamed being Tommy's CG with Techno and Will. And this was it. Phil could never stay fierce in the face of tears. Especially not from littles. So, instead of getting angry, he just swept the bits of shredded leaf aside, out of a seated Dream’s reach, and sighed. "Hi, little one." He murmured, taking one of Dream’s hands in his own, and massaging the back of it gently. He whined, shaking his head slightly. "m no lil!" he complained, thoroughly miserable, but Phil just took it in his stride, pulling out one of the other chairs around the table, and sitting down.

"You're littler than me right now though, aren't you? And that makes you a little one. You don't have to be really really little like Techno though. You can be a big and strong boy, kay?" Dream just nodded, looking over to Techno, who was stubbornly trying to get the toy weapons out of the chest without help. "But big boys have to have big talks about scaring the little babies, and they have to take their corner time like big boys too." Phil continued, trying his hardest to look serious, as dream’s eyes widened, and he slid off his chair onto phil’s lap. "Nooo! ‘m little baby! No corner!" he whined, trying his hardest to convince the caregiver that he was too little to be punished for what he did. But his efforts were fruitless.

"Nice try, mini milk." Phil ruffled his boy's hair, before pulling him back up to standing. "Now, tell me why you scared Tommy like that? He's very poorly, and you shouting at him didn't help." Phil prompted, holding Dream still as he started trying to twist out of the grip. Silence followed, and Phil's eyebrows dropped. "Dream..." he warned, his voice dropping down. "We can do this another way if you would prefer, but I doubt that’s the issue." Another careful warning, as a tear began to fall down the boy's cheeks. He shook his head, not wanting to speak, but, as Phil used a thumb to wipe it away, he let out a shuddering breath. "He sicky, n you were sads, so I helpin, but...but is just bad." He murmured, letting more tears fall. Phil started to talk, but he was cut off by Dream continuing, as he gazed off at a distant point, not even bearing to look into his daddy's face. "And...and den you were doin stuffs with tom, and mama doin stuff with Ranny, so I got big so ‘m not in way, and got shouty, and Mama says ‘m smol but ‘m no smol, I just got icky tummy cuz wan someon doing stuff with me, not Tommy. Tomm smelly." He whined, stamping his foot as he came to the end of what he was saying, still crying, as realisation dawned over Phil's mind.

"Awe, kiddo. If you were jealous, you could have just said. I’m sure your mama loves both of you a lot of a lot, and I know she doesn't want to make you feel icky. It's just that Tommy is very poorly right now, so he needs lots of hugs and kisses and icky medicines to make him feel better, and Ranny is having a hard day." He explained, trying to help Dream by drying up the boy's tears on the sleeves of his shirt. "Do you remember when you got a really icky tummy and you were so sleepy that you couldn't even hug the puppies they had at your drawing classes?" Phil asked the boy, watching as he nodded sadly. "Tommy's icky tummy is even worse than that time." At this, dream gasped, and tried to run over to the couch, though Phil held him fast. "So you have to be very gentle, and very quiet to him from now on, okay?"

Dream nodded solemnly, looking wise beyond his current years of 4, and stood still once more. A few stray tears still slid down his cheeks, but, for now, he was okay again. Phil, standing up, kept a firm hold of Puffy’s boy's hand, pushing the chair back in, and sweeping Dream into a tight, fatherly hug. "Now. I know your mama loves you lots and lots and lots, but these clothes are all icky from all the running around you did. Shall I come help you get changed into some nice clean and comfy clothes till she is ready? Then we can surprise her!" he proposed as he straightened back up again, his knees aching a little. Dream nodded happily, skipping slightly as they both headed back towards the bedrooms, for yet another change. The clock struck ten am, and Phil sighed heavily. It was going to be a loooooong day.

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