#if you need me i am in the corner making no noise except for occasional high pitched keening in sorrow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

byunbaekby · 4 years

Text

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.

“You’re lying,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.

He hums in response, turning to look at you.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.

Shit.

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”

Your jaw drops.

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week.

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.

“No, but I…”

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.

“Kind of.”

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.

Cocaine.

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.

“So, can I have some?” You ask again.

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words.

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out.

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.

When he wakes, you’re burning up.

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.

It’s the cocaine.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up.

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?”

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.

But you’re not alone.

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.

He’s too late. Maybe much too late.

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson.

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

2K notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years

Note

Hello! May I please request something with a reader who's hosea's daughter and she starts a romantic relationship with either Charles or Arthur? (I can't decide I love those both those boys too much)

AN: Hi babe! I chose Arthur for this!

Warnings: implied smut

***

The moon hung high in the night sky and thousands of stars littered the empty space surrounding it. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen.

Cicadas and crickets chirped. Raccoons chattered from high up in treetops. Occasionally there was the sound of a coyote as it strayed too close to camp then scurrying away upon realizing that there were people nearby.

You made your way through camp, finishing your braid over your shoulder.

Everyone was settling down for the night after having a few drinks.

You moved towards the tent you shared with Karen and Sadie when a hand suddenly wrapped around your mouth from behind. An arm latched around your waist. Panic was just about to set in when you heard his voice in your ear.

“Easy there, pumpkin.” Arthur whispered. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

He let you go but held on to your wrist as he tugged you around to the backside of the wagons.

“Arthur Morgan!” You whispered his name loudly, hitting his arm. “Don’t you do that again! I almost had a heart attack!”

“Shh.” He chuckled, holding a finger to his lips. His hands found your hips and he backed you up against the wagon. “Don’t want anyone to hear you.”

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. He pinned your hips against the wagon with his own then brought his hands up to cup your face.

“Let’s go for a ride.” Arthur pulled away from you, his hand finding your wrist once more. He started to pull you away from the wagon but you stopped him.

“What has gotten into you tonight, Arthur?” You asked him, a little smile playing on your lips. You enjoyed his playful moods, but they were rare and it wasn’t often that they came about. Usually it only happened when he was drinking.

“I just wanna spend time with you without worryin’ about anyone, pumpkin.” He tugged on your hand.

“And you wanna go for a ride?”

“Yeah.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“How much could you taste?” He countered. You rolled your eyes.

“I’ll only go with you if you let me control the horse.”

“Oh, pumpkin. Come on. I wanna take you somewhere.”

“You can tell me directions.”

“Fine.” He grumbled. “Come on.”

Arthur guided you across camp to his horse. He helped you up onto the saddle and then got up onto the back of the horse himself.

***

Slipping past Bill on guard duty was easy.

The place Arthur took you to was just on the other side of the border of Lemoyne and New Hanover. The spot was along the shore of Flat Iron Lake.

“What’s special about this place?” You looked over your shoulder to Arthur as you brought the horse to a stop in the grass.

“Huh?”

“You said the spot was special. What’s special about it?”

“Well…. it’s away from camp.” He held his hand out for you. You got down from the horse and passed him the reins. He tethered the horse to a tree so it could eat grass while the two of you went closer to the water.

Arthur held his hand out for you again, making a grabbing motion. You furrowed your brows together before putting your hand in his.

He walked alongside you with your fingers laced together.

“I been doin’ a lotta thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh.” You giggled. “Should I be worried?”

“Yeah, probably.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Arthur was silent for a few moments, so you looked over at him. He was looking out over the lake.

“Arthur, what is it?” You stopped walking and turned to face him.

He shook his head, eyes flickering down to his boots.

“It-It’s nothin’. Just stupid thoughts.”

“It ain’t stupid if it’s got you thinkin’ so hard I can see the smoke coming out of your ears.” You reached up to cup his jaw. You brushed your thumb along his cheek. “Come on. It’s just me. You can say whatever it is you’re thinking to me.”

His eyes met yours and he nodded, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“I…. Y/N, I want whatever it is we got…. I want it to be real.”

You furrowed your brows together, tilting your head to the side a little.

“I thought…. Well, I guess I thought it was real.” Your voice was quiet.

“No, not like that.” He shook his head. “I meant that I-I want to be real. To have a real…. a real thing with you.”

A smile spread across your lips as you realized what Arthur was struggling to say.

“A real relationship, Arthur Morgan?”

He nodded his head.

“Now I-I put a lotta thought into it. Even talked it over with Charles. He’s a smart feller.”

“He is. You want this?”

“I want you.” Arthur slipped his arm around your waist and pulled you against him. “I ain’t felt that way about somebody in a long time.”

“Only if you’re sure–,”

“I am sure.” He cut you off, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation, holding his gaze. “Yes.”

“Okay then.” He grinned, large hands slipping down to your backside.

***

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon when you and Arthur returned to camp. You parted ways where the horses were hitched, leaving with only murmurs of goodbyes. It was bad enough you’d spent the entire night out. You didn’t need to risk being caught just yet. You’d tell everyone when you were ready. But neither of you saw Hosea Matthews–your father–watching from the opposite side of camp as you slipped into your tent.

Arthur wasn’t very fond of romance from the get-go, and being that you were Hosea’s daughter made him ever more hesitant to start anything with you. However, that changed when he got to know you better.

Being that you didn’t grow up in the Van Der Linde Gang, you didn’t know the outlaw the way everyone else did.

Though Hosea was your father, he didn’t raise you. He and his late wife and your mother, Bessy, had agreed that the life they had wasn’t suitable for a baby. So they gave you to Bessy’s sister and brother-in-law so that you could be raised in a proper setting and have a chance at a good life. Hosea and Bessy made sure to visit you when they could, and even after Bessy passed away Hosea continued to visit you and let you know that he cared about you. He wanted what was best for his only daughter. He didn’t want you to have the same life as him or to be subjected to the horrors he had faced.

But here you were, the newest member of the Van der Linde Gang.

***

You managed to only get a couple hours of sleep before Karen nudged you awake, warning you that Susan would be by to raise hell if you weren’t up soon.

You got dressed and went out to get a cup of coffee. You spotted Hosea sitting at a table reading through a newspaper, so you decided to join him.

“Good morning, Hosea.” You greeted.

“Good morning, dear.” He gave you a smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not too bad. I’m getting used to the nighttime noises so I’m not waking up so much. Anything interestin’ in there?”

“Not yet.”

“Mornin’, Hosea.” Arthur crossed through camp, heading for his tent. “Mornin’, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” You smiled just a little before looking down at your coffee.

You wanted to tell Hosea about you and Arthur. Now that things were serious between you two, it felt like you needed to tell him. Before, you were just flirting and messing around. There was no need for anyone to know what was happening because it was just two grown adults keeping each other company. But now…. Now it was different.

You sat with Hosea for a bit, chatting about what was in the newspaper.

Then you noticed a group began to form around the horses that consisted of Javier, Charles, Arthur, Sean, and John.

“What are you staring at, sweetheart?”

You turned your head look at Hosea. You didn’t realize you were staring.

“Nothing, Hosea.”

He looked in the direction you had been staring in.

“Which one is it?”

“What?”

“Which one of them numbskulls were you gawking at?”

“None of them.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on you. When you made no effort to carry on the conversation, he reached into a pocket on his vest to check the time. “Your mother used to get that same look in her eye when she saw somethin’ in a shop window she wanted.”

Curious, you glanced up from your coffee which you had been staring at rather intently. You weren’t really reading anyways.

“She would?”

“She would.” Hosea nodded, a fond smile coming to his lips as his eyes left you to look out over the lake behind you. “And usually, I’d go back to the shop some time later when she wasn’t with me and steal it for her.”

“How romantic.”

“She thought so.” He chuckled. “She certainly knew how to put up with me and my antics. But she was about as good of a liar as you are, my dear.”

You put the book down on the table.

“I really wish you’d stop reading me like I’m one of your marks.”

“I can’t help it, sweetheart. It’s a bad habit. A very bad, nasty habit.” Hosea turned his head to look at the group of men gathered around the horses. “I don’t think it would be John. He’s far too dim for you. But if we go by brains, I don’t think any of them have a lick of sense. Well, except for Charles.” Hosea paused to gauge your reaction. You kept your lips pressed together in a firm line, adamant on not giving him any reaction. “If it was Bill Williamson, I’d be disappointed in you.”

“Ew, no.”

“Good girl. Javier?”

You didn’t answer.

“Hmm. Arthur perhaps?”

You shifted in your seat and took a small breath. The actions didn’t seem that big, but apparently they meant something to Hosea.

The con-man leaned back in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a little sigh.

“That dimwit, Y/N?”

“He’s not a dimwit, Hosea.”

“I swear, Y/N, I’ve seen fish with more sense than that boy.”

“Hosea.”

“I’m serious. Me and Dutch were real concerned about him. Well, that was until John came along. Made Arthur look a goddamn genius.”

You stood up and picked up your coffee cup.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Hosea put his hand out to stop you. “I know you’re sweet on him. I saw you coming back into camp together this morning.”

Your eyes immediately met his, panic finding its way into your veins. Then you looked over to Arthur. Did your father know what you were doing with Arthur while you were gone?

“I’m a little hurt neither of you told me, but I know why you kept it to yourselves. This camp ain’t the place for romance.”

“Hosea.” You whispered, eyes meeting his once more. “Don’t…. Don’t let Arthur know that you know, okay? I-I think he wanted to tell you himself. We just…. We didn’t want everyone here to know, and he’s…. Arthur’s a funny guy when it comes to being sweet on a lady.”

“Oh, I know. He’s had his heart broke real bad before. Don’t you think about breakin’ it, you hear? You’re my daughter so I’ll be sure to tell him the same, but he’s like a son to me, you know.”

“I know, Hosea. Don’t worry. I have no intentions of hurting him.”

“Good.”

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #kacey answers

165 notes · View notes

libraryofloveletters · 4 years

Text

Loss To Love

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Warnings: mentions of childbirth, disagreements

Category: Angst with a lil fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: some of the dialogue is the same as the first one because y/n and Eddie have similar versions of what happened. Basically Eddie’s version of what happened and lil something at the end.

Part 1: Love To Loss

----

Was loss real ?

Did it ever stop hurting ?

All the pain and broken hearts and despair, was it all worth it if in the end, I got to come home to you ?

Last thing- last person he excepted to see was you. Living, breathing, in the flesh, right in front of him. He hadn't seen you in years, not that it was intentional but life got busy and you, of all people, knew that. Judging by the way Buck’s mouth hung open and the flickering looks between you and him, you had told them the story. Carla had the same look when he told her after she stumbled across a picture of the two of you with Christoper.

Everything in him wanted to run over, wrap his arms around you and never let go again, but “what are you doing here ? How’d you find me?” came out instead. He was shocked to see you, your face mirroring the same look and you were the one that had come looking.

“Uh- honestly I don’t know” you chuckled, “to which question ?” Eddie looked over at you

“Both” you gave him a smile.

“Yeah, okay. You need to go, I have a shift” he tells you. “Eddie, we don’t have any calls right now. They can stay, I don’t have a problem with it” Bobby tells him, Eddie nods. “I get that Cap, but I have a problem with it” Eddie turns to you. “You need to go” he tells you again, you didn’t want to fight with him, especially in front of his team so you nodded. Turning back towards the team, you give them a smile, “it was nice to meet all of you” and you headed down the stairs. Eddie watched from the stairs, Buck pushing past him and shouting for you as he ran down the stairs towards you. Eddie stepped away from the stairs and moved to the balcony as you and Buck spoke. He watched as you smiled, scribbling something onto Buck’s hand, making him blush. Eddie’d be lying if he say he didn't have a twisted feeling of jealousy, his stomach twisting at the sight of the two of you. Everyone was looking at him, their eyes burning into his back but his focus was on you.

Watching as you looked back once more, your eyes locking with his before you stepped out. “Eddie-” Bobby called, the alarm began blaring.

Saved by the bell, thankfully.

Bobby’s hand was on his shoulder, Eddie glanced back at his captain, “we’ll talk after, okay ?” Eddie just hummed, heading down the stairs to the rest of the team. Buck nudged his shoulder with his as they settled into the engine, “you alright man ?” he asks, his eyes on Eddie. Eddie knew what Buck was doing, he was trying to read him- his new hobby, annoying one it is - “I’m fine Buck, stop squinting at me. You’re going to hurt your eyes” Eddie gave him a small smile, brushing off Buck’s look. Buck hummed, the occasional glance at Eddie. Eddie’s mind was everywhere but on the call, he felt the engine rumble and the movement of the truck but his head was somewhere else.

El Paso, 2008.

His back tickled, someone’s finger brushing across it in his sleep. “Mhm Shan- stop” he mumbled, his brows furrowing in his sleep as he shifted. “Not Shannon-” your voice filled his ears, a smile now on his face. “just me” he felt the weight shift as he rolled over and onto your lap, making himself comfortable again. You were warm, not from the sun beating down on your skin but you were always warm and comfortable- safe, he felt safe when he was with you.

“Come on sleepyhead” your fingers running through his hair. If he could stay in bed with you all day, he would but instead he groaned at your attempt to get him out of bed, “5 more minutes”

“You’ve been sleeping all day, mom says you gotta get up” Eddie flips onto his back, head still on your lap as he looks up at the ceiling. The room is quiet as he gets up out of bed, you speak first. “Do you really have to go ?” you ask him, sadness dripping from words, Eddie doesn’t turn around, his heart already breaking. “You know I do” he sighs, watching as you get up, the two of you packing his things in silence.

“I don’t want you to leave” once again, the sadness dripping from your words. “And you think I want to leave ?” his words were harsher than expected. Eddie glances towards you, the look on your face was enough to make him look away. He didn't want to fight with you during his last day with you, but the two of you have had this exact conversation countless times, the only real conversation you’ve had recently. What he really wanted to tell you was that he was in love with his best friend, the person he grew up with, the person he had shared so many memories with, that he was in love with you. He sat on the bed, reaching for your hand, you hummed and turned your attention back to the clothes, he tugged slightly. You sat beside him, the room was quiet and the only noise was coming from the open window in his bedroom.

“Y/n, I-” his sentence is interrupted when Sophia knocks on his door, sticking her head in the room. “Ed, Shannon’s here to see you” she pulls the door in halfway before leaving the two of you in the room.

Shannon.

He had forgotten about her. In that moment, the moment with you, Shannon didn’t occupy a single thought in his mind.

Eddie looks at you, he opens his mouth to say something but you shake your head. “Go,” you breathe, “don’t keep her waiting” giving him a small smile. “Are you sure ?” he asks, his hand on your back. You hum, “I'll be out in a minute, I just have to call my parents” Eddie nods, leaving you in his room. Eddie walked into the living room, making himself comfortable on the recliner as Shannon walked into the living room with Sophia, Shannon took a seat on Eddie’s lap and pulled him into a hug. Sophia’s face screwed into a disgusted expression, Eddie shot her a glare as her attention moved to something else.

To you.

Eddie glanced at you, watching your expression as Shannon spoke to you. He knew you well enough to know when you were putting on a facade for everyone. Might be believable to them but not to him. “Why didn’t you call me ? I would have came” His girlfriend smiled at him, her nose pressed against his cheek. “Oh uh, yeah sorry” he mumbles, his eyes still on you. Giving you an apologetic look, you shrug slightly and head into the kitchen, telling his mom that you’re gonna set another place for dinner, for “Eddie’s girl” he hears you say.

You weren't wrong, Shannon was his girl, but she wasn't the one he wanted.

El Paso, 2011.

Eddie had visited home a few times, most of the time was spent with family and Shannon. He wishes he spent more time with you every time he leaves, promising himself that he’d spend more time with you next time he came home.

He had a week’s leave before his next tour and this week was being spent with Shannon and the newest addition to their family, their son, Christoper. Eddie did call you earlier in the day to tell you Shannon had given birth and you promised to stop by.

“He's perfect” Shannon whispered, admiring Christoper who was asleep currently. Eddie hums, smiling at the little boy. The sound of your voice caught his attention, he glanced at Shannon who was looking at him, and it seemed that she heard you too. Eddie excused himself from his wife, stepping into the hallway.

“Y/n!” he shouted from the end of the hallway. He watched you press the visitor’s badge onto your shirt and walk over to him. “Eddie! or should I say dad?” you smiled at him, wrapping your arms around him.

God it felt good to have you back in his arms.

“Congratulations on the baby, you're a baby yourself, I can't believe you have a kid” you teased, giving his face a little squeeze as the two of you walked in. Eddie’s arm was over your shoulder and your arm around his waist as the two of you entered the room. Shannon’s look was burning a hole in Eddie, she knew the two of you were close but it didn’t mean that she had to like it. The look was enough for Eddie to let go and take a step to the side. She gave you a smile, “nice of you to come by y/n”

“Of course, hope you don’t mind”

“Oh no, of course not! You’re Eddie’s best friend”

The baby began crying, “he’s got a pair of lungs on him huh ?” you chuckled, Eddie smiled as he picked up Christoper. Eddie rocked the little boy in his arms, humming quietly, all eyes on him. You were in the corner by the chair when Eddie turned to you, “do you want to hold him?” Eddie stepped towards you, Chris had settled now. “Um, yeah” taking a seat in the chair, he handed Chris off to you. You smiled at the little boy in your arms, Eddie’s heart swelling at the sight of you with his son in your arms. Eddie sat on the end of the bed when you smiled at them, “the two of you have a beautiful little boy”

Yeah, the two of them. He and Shannon had a beautiful little boy, not you and him like he had always envisioned.

El Paso, 2017.

Eddie returned to the kitchen after giving Chris the ice cream and headed straight to the fridge to get a beer. “I take it dinner didn’t go well ?” you ask, sitting on the counter. Eddie let out a chuckle, “well wasn't even in the house tonight”

“What happened ?” taking the beer from him and taking a sip of it.

“They think it's a bad idea to move across the country with a kid, that Chris needed stability and apparently- they’re the only stability he’s ever had.” Eddie groaned. He couldn't believe his parents. He knew they wanted to help but Christopher was his son and the choice was his.

“And you're sure you want to do this ? Move to LA?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, he looked at you. “What do you mean? Are you siding with them ?”

“No, of course not. I’m just asking if you're sure if you want to move”

“Of course I am. I need to get out of here, Chris needs a change, somewhere that doesn’t constantly remind him of his mother.” he sighed. Shannon upped and left them. It was hard at first, he missed a big part of Chris’s life, he basically had to figure it out as he went and he did a damn good job if he said so himself.

“Eds, you know if you move you’ll be on your own. I don’t agree with your parents, you should be able to take Chris wherever you want but you won’t have the help you have here. You have your parents and me and Chris has his friends, are you sure you want to do this ?”

“Are you going to stop me ? Like you tried to stop me when I enlisted ?” he grumbled. Your expression dropped, his words hurt you. He felt like he did when he enlisted for the first time. “How could you say that ? I didn’t try to stop you, I just didn’t want you to leave, which was the truth by the way.” you roll your eyes.

“Listen, I just came here for you to say bye to Chris because we're leaving tomorrow” Eddie begins walking out of the kitchen, you grab his hand. “What ? That’s it? We're going to leave things like this ? You being mad for no reason ?”

“You’re the one that doesn’t want me to move on” Eddie’s voice raised slightly

“Are you kidding me?! Did I try to stop you ?” your voice raises as well. Eddie pulls his hand from yours, he waited for Chris to say bye to you. His heart sank into his chest as he went. He and Chris stepped out and you followed them, watching as they got into the truck. Eddie watched you, watching them expect you couldn't see that through the tint of the truck.

----

The call went like clockwork, Eddie on autopilot the whole time. The team could tell that Eddie was off the entire time, his mind was elsewhere. Not ideal considering they could use all the hands they could get but Cap didn’t bother Eddie, leaving him to tend to the wounded with Hen while Chimney stepped in for him.

Upon arriving back, Eddie excused himself from the team and headed to the locker room. The shift was almost over and he just wanted to get out of there. Bobby and Buck stood by the truck, “should I-” Buck whispers, Bobby nodded. “Give him some time first. Eddie’ll come around, he always does” Bobby patted his back, leaving him by the truck. Buck was going towards the stairs but made a beeline to the locker room instead. “Hey,” he knocked on the wall, Eddie looking over at him. “What’s up?” Eddie asks, buttoning the sleeve of his shirt.

“Just wanted to see if you were alright,” Buck took a seat on the bench, looking towards Eddie. “Your mind seemed to be elsewhere on the call” Eddie hummed, his attention on his locker. Buck sat quietly, his eyes burning a hole into Eddie, studying his body language. Eddie just wanted to go home, home to Christoper, to his safe space, where no one could reach him, where he could spend the rest of his day in bed thinking- thinking about you.

It always came back to you.

“What were you two talking about ?” Eddie asked, his curiosity getting the best of him. Buck hummed, brows furrowed, “me and ?”

“You and y/n. What were you two talking about? You stopped them on the their way out”

“I promised them I'd try and reason with you. Gave me their address and number.”

“Give me” Eddie pulled his phone from his pocket. Buck looked down at his hand, the pen ink smudged and the words illegible. Letting out a sigh, he showed his hand to Eddie who also let out a sigh. “I’m sorry man, I should have taken a picture of it or written-” “it’s cool. I’ll figure it out. I’m going head home, you’re working tomorrow ?” picking up his bag, Buck nods, “then I'll see you tomorrow”

Eddie made it to his truck but not without the feeling of guilty heavy on his shoulders. He barely made it into the truck before it began raining, heavy rain and thunder. This day couldn't get any worse he thought, the lighting lit up the sky.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

He pulled his phone out to call Carla, letting her know that he’s going to stop at the store on his way home. Scrolling through his contacts to find her name, his mind flickered back to you. He had gotten a new number but did you ?

Your name was still on the list, the contact untouched for the last 2 years. There were so many times he had opened the contact, his finger hovering above the number but Christopher called for him or he couldn't bring himself to call you- what would he even say to you ? “sorry to being an ass and leaving oh also I'm in love with you and have been for years” - yeah some call that would have been. His finger tapped the edge of his phone case, his eyes fixated on the rain pouring outside. The sound of a line trilling caused him to pull his eyes away from the rain and to the phone.

Shit. It was calling, well I guess this was it.

He could hang up but he couldn't bring himself to hit the button. A regular occurrence for him.

“Hello ?” your voice called from the other end of the line, echoing through the empty truck.

“Y/n” he breathed, came out almost so quietly he didn’t hear it himself

“Eddie ?”

“Can we talk ? I can pick you up if you’re not busy ?” he couldn’t believe the words that were leaving his mouth

“Yeah, did Buck give you the address ?”

“No, it smudged. Only the number was readable” he lied, you hummed.

“I’ll text it to you. I'll be waiting” you tell him before hanging up. His phone buzzing in his hand, a text from you appearing at the top. It was a while before he pulled out of the parking lot, he had to think – he wasn't sure what he was going to say to you or if he was even going to say anything to you but he knew he had to see you. The way he left things – he didn’t like it but he didn’t know if they were fixable.

You were leant against the building when he pulled up, making your way over to the car as the rain soaked the top of your shirt slightly. “Hey,” you smiled, looking over at him. “Can I drive ? I just- can I ?” he asked you, you hummed. “Anything’s fine with me” you tell him, shifting your attention to the passing buildings as Eddie drives. He drove around the block a few times, after the first 2 times you realized you were going in circles.

“Eddie, is everything ok-”

“I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Silence was a major factor in your relationship with Eddie. Comfortable silence, awkward silence, unspoken feelings and thoughts, movements made in the dead silence of the night.

Eddie kept driving, he didn't wait for any answer nor did he mean to blurt it out like that. He didn’t even know if you were seeing someone, he didn't care because it was true, he was in love with you.

“Eddie,” you sigh, your lips curving upwards into a smile. “I’m in love with you too”

His foot hit the breaks as your hand reached for the dash to keep you from falling forward. The two of you looking at each other, no words but comfortable silence. Eddie’s hand cradled your hand, your hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers as he leans towards you

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Well- yeah I mean I should-” “just shut up and kiss me already”

His lips finally met yours. Eddie’s heart pounding in his chest, only focusing on how soft your lips felt against his- the need for you urging him to pull closer. This was the moment the two of you had been dreaming about since the day you shared in his room before he left, the one that was supposed to fix everything. The raw emotions of love, lust, loss and need all wrapped into one kiss- this kiss.

He pulls away only for a moment - to catch his breath. He looked at you, his hand still cradling your face, just to make sure you weren't a fiction of his imagination. Eddie’s arm wrapped around you as his lips met yours again halfway.

Forehead to forehead, “you have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you” he whispers. “Mhm, I think I do” you chuckle softly, Eddie flashes you a smile.

“I love you so much that it hurts” he breathes

“I know the feeling” you smile.

Love to Loss to Love again. All the pain and broken hearts and despair, was it all worth it if in the end, I got to come home to you ?

Yeah, it was.

----

Taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @keenmarvellover @mikaelson-emma @beth-winchester21 @averyhotchner @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95

tagging those that wanted a part 2: @wanniiieeee @pandq707 @shipshipshipau @eternalharry @lost-willow

276 notes · View notes

dismalzelenka · 3 years

Note

In case you need another prompt, here's one from the Sense prompts, for Nathaniel Howe or Anders (or both)! "Vision :: Sight"

Took a break from the other one for a second because I saw this and it gave me Soft Ideas :3 Nanders for @dadrunkwriting. Featuring two soft bisexual boys and more sunlight metaphors because I am gARBAGE.

There's something miraculous about waking up before Anders. It isn't particularly difficult -- Anders is decidedly not a morning person, as anyone who's had to suffer with him on a morning rotation can attest to -- but Nathaniel doesn't think he'll ever get tired of those quiet moments. In the distance, the faint clamour of the keep waking up for the day is a muted whisper punctuating the stillness of the room they share.

They've long since taken the two beds and shoved them together in one corner, lashed the frames together with twine, and piled enough blankets on the two mattresses for an army to last an entire Fereldan winter with fabric to spare. (He doesn't know where Anders keeps acquiring them, and he doesn't ever ask.) The man runs warm enough already and never seems to need more than one at a time, but he takes endless delight in making himself a nest of quilts that eventually all end up on the floor by morning anyway.

It's so endearing Nathaniel doesn't even mind that he's the one who's left folding them all back up.

There are a lot of things Nathaniel loves about waking up before Anders. He loves the way Anders looks in his sleep, peaceful for once, all traces of worry erased from his face except for the occasional moment where he crinkles his nose in his sleep and his freckles squeeze together. Freckles like stars, like constellations, every night a map that leads him home.

He already spends far too much energy hiding his sentimental nature, and somehow Anders pulls more of it out of him without lifting a finger.

The sun peeks out from behind a mass of clouds and beams brilliance through the window. The light hits Anders' hair, molten red-gold shimmering across the pillowcase, and Nathaniel momentarily forgets how to breathe, because the sun has crept right here in bed next to him and dazzled him senseless with the breadth of its beauty.

Anders makes a muffled noise and flings an arm across Nathaniel's waist. The blanket slips down scarred and freckled shoulders and pools across his waist as he wiggles in his sleep before finally opening one eye and squinting blearily.

"You're thinking far too loudly," he mumbles. "'S too early. Come back to sleep."

Nathaniel doesn't know how to explain why he can't.

Morning has made a home beside him and he is powerless to do anything in its wake but watch it bloom.

#da drunk writing circle #anders #nathaniel howe #anders/nathaniel howe #nanders #soft prompt #nathaniel is a poetic boy #anders is dazzling ok #he's a very cute sleeper #da awakening #ficlet #diz writes

29 notes · View notes

sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Parings: Bakugou x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, characters are in their third year.

Word Count: 5.4K

The two honor students of UA so happen to be childhood enemies. During the succession that is exams, Y/N is determined to beat Bakugou.

Exam season has commenced on the campus of U.A. Students woke up in a frenzied state, slightly nervous to the late night studying they’ll endure for the weeks to come. Not enough caffeine can energize them to be in complete motivation mode. A couple of students have taken the leisure of paying those to exchange notes, considering most of the questions will be going over every little detail in each subject. The exams don’t begin till next week, but a few of the honor students have already hit the books, not once indulging in a break or two till the sun sets. One of those students just so happen to be you, an inspiring young hero with the hunger for being on top of everything. Ever since middle school, teachers would constantly praise you on your performance during tests. It was no surprise to anyone when you aced the entrance exam to U.A, a remarkable score leading you closer to reaching your dream. Although your scores on every test was superb, someone else would occasionally steal the spotlight with by topping your score. That person in particular has been tailing behind you ever since middle school, another honor student who also attends U.A as well. Did you mention he also is in the same hero course as you?

Katsuki Bakugou is his name. A name that burns the tip of your tongue whenever you gave roll call alongside Iida. The man is a ball of pure fury. He exuded nothing but anger and hostility whenever he’s in a room. Despite his aggressive exterior, Katsuki is an avid academic student who manages to score excellent grades in each of his classes. For the past 3 years of attending U.A, you two are considered the star studded scholars, never once failing a test, midterm, pop quiz , you name it! Now with your hero course almost coming to an end, you were determined to at least score the highest result this exam season, leaving Bakugou in the dust with his inadequate score. Maybe have him crying in the corner would suffice the drawn out rivalry you two established. No one verbally said it was an all out war between you two, but everytime those test results are posted on the board, everyone steered clear for the both of you to silently react. Everyone awaits for the day when one of you finally snaps and start clawing at each other. But alas, only the mere exchange of a side eye and a curt nod. Deep down you do want to slap the smirk that always resides on his face during those moments, showing him you weren’t just going to let him win by smarts.

That’s why now you sit alone on the cushioned couch in the commons area, books sprawled around you like a protective barrier. You had your eyes glued to a textbook about the history of quirks and their physiology, a class in which you needed to spend studying the most for. It’s been a a few hours into your little study session, and you were beginning to feel the drag of how much you needed to actually work on. All this including your current homework and your mandatory internship studies at an agency. It was all too much to handle. So, maybe you do deserve a break.

Pushing the book aside, you stretched out your cramped up arms and sigh in relief. In the corner of your eye you spot a familiar head of ashy blonde walking into the commons room, books and notebooks crammed into his armpit while holding what seems to be an energy drink. Your eye twitched watching him plop down onto the couch across from you, never once paying attention to your presence. Katsuki then rests his bare feet on the wooden coffee table, opening one of his textbooks with the swipe of his thump. For some odd reason, this really riled you up. And it was clear Katsuki noticed too.

“Am I bothering you? Hm?” He smugly asked, eyes not wavering from the text before him.

You scoffed.

“No. Just, don’t speak while I’m trying to study okay?”

He clicked his tongue at you.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re studying to me. Looks like you’ve given up already. What gives?”

His comment made you even angrier.

“Given up? Kacchan, you’ve barely started.”

Looking up, you can see a faint vein forming against the temple of his forehead. His fists clenched tightly, crumpling the sides of the textbook. His eyes now were averted to yours. The crimson death glare, you’d call it.

“I was training with Kirishima, dumbass. So of course I couldn’t hop onto my studies earlier,” he started. Katsuki opens his energy drink with one finger, the pop of the air leaving the can satisfying to your ears, and took a swing of it. “Also, don’t ever fucking call me that. If I hear it from your mouth again I won’t hesitate to use my quirk on you.”

An intriguing idea. Usually you’d be the one to threaten your enemy, but Katsuki like always beat you to the punch.

“No thanks, I’d rather be harassed by grape juice than be blasted from the likes of you,” the taunt in your voice triggered something within Katsuki, causing him to tense up in pure anger. “Besides, I’m planning on studying all day till my eyes fall out. So don’t expect me to leave this spot.”

His smirk was soon on full display, uncrossing his legs to lean forward so he can rest his elbow on his knee.

“Oh really? Just so you know we have an early training tomorrow in preparation for our final exam. Wouldn’t want ya to, cha know, fail?” He didn’t even sound slightly concern for yourself and your future study habits, you can tell he wishes for you to fuck up your sleeping schedule to miss the important training in the morning.

“I have an alarm set on my phone so I don’t miss my beauty rest. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of kicking your ass tomorrow,” you held your mobile device triumphantly, waving it back and forth to mock him.

With the roll of his eyes, Katsuki returned back to his studies, leaving you to sadly resume as well. Before he entered the commons area, you were about to head into your dorm room to take a nap, but now you were obligated to stay put without letting him think you’re already burnt out.

Silently, you both continued on with the unspoken competition.

Evening struck quicker than you expected, cascading the soft glow of the painted sky through the windows, illuminating both you Katsuki in a pink hue. Thankfully, Katsuki took your words into consideration and never spoke to you during the session, giving you an easy feeling of relaxation without him making it another competition.

Already you finished your notes for advance foreign language, quirk physiology, and mathematics. So far, you were ahead of everyone else, with the exception of Katsuki. Occasionally, you’d catch yourself glancing over at him working intensively in his small corner, highlighting and jotting down every minuscule detail in his notebook. This was your first time witnessing how Katsuki studies. To your disappointment, his regime was nothing out of the ordinary. Then how the fuck does he manage to score high grades? It simply baffled you.

A stampede of footsteps was to be heard coming from the hallway leading to the commons area. After what seems to be years, you cranked your head away from your notebook to see Kirishima and the rest of the gang marching towards the direction of both you and Katsuki, who was currently shooting daggers at the group of friends. The red head was the first to speak out of the four of them.

“Aye Bakubro! Wanna skip the studying for a little and eat with us at NoodleShop?” His smile gleamed brightly, showcasing his shark incisors.

“Y/N you too! Come join us. I’ll pay!” Mina chimed in.

Noodles sounded pretty appetizing right about now. You skipped out on lunch, too engrossed on the idea of getting a head start for the exams. Now you regret the decision of leaving your stomach on empty.

But you still had so much left to do. And knowing Katsuki’s competitive nature, he wasn’t going to move an inch from his spot.

“It’s okay Mina, I uh- already ate a big meal awhile ago,” you dismissed her, patting your belly to show you were indeed, full.

As if on cue, a loud growl erupted from the depths of your stomach, the noise reverberating across the soundless space. Denki and Sero both snickered.

To your amazement, Katsuki got up from the couch and trailed over to the group, slipping on his red hoodie that was draped on the arm rest. He took a quick glimpse at you and smirked over his shoulder.

“Watch my things for me will ya, extra?” And with that they all left the area as a group.

You huffed in defeat and stared back at your jumbled pile of notes, the writing transcending from neat to sloppy text. At least you don’t have an explosive blonde sharing the same air as you for now. You reached into your bag and grabbed another textbook, this one being more heftier than the others.

“Oh well, more time for studying...” you said to yourself as you skimmed through the pages of Hero First Aid: Volume 6.

The beautiful spring sky soon was replaced by the expanse of darkness, the twinkle of the bright stars catching your eyes. The moon alone helped cast a sheen of light, allowing you to work in the dimly lit up space. Bakugou didn’t return to retrieve his stuff, all of which were sat untouched in a hasty mess. You figure him and the rest of the gang would have been back on campus by now, but everyone in class 1-A have locked themselves in their dorms since lights out will commence in a few. Aizawa has yet to prohibit you from staying past the curfew. As long as you don’t go running among the halls like a lunatic and stay strictly to studying, he’s all game. And that’s exactly what you did.

A couple of students murmured as they passed by you, saying things like “Does she ever have a life” or “All she does is study...no wonder no one has asked her out yet”. As much as the comments sting, you knew they weren’t true to your heart. Last year, someone in class 2-B formally asked you to the dance. To their dismay, you rejected them on the spot. Only because you didn’t have time to date or talk romantically with anyone. It’s a distraction to both your education and future career.

Okay, so maybe they were partially correct. At least you had your first kiss before entering U.A? But the person who stole your kiss was obligated to do so, after being dared by their fellow acquaintances. Nothing more beyond that have you explored with another person.

Submerged in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the presence of the angry blonde, hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie as he strolled to the couch that had all his materials. He began to gather his things when suddenly he freezes, remembering what you said about not moving an inch from your spot. He’s astonished to see you cemented on the same couch, in the same position, notes blanketing your thighs along with the pile books pooling at the edge.

You really are determined to beat him, he thought. Bakugou can’t deny he’s impressed with your ambition and drive to be the best among your peers, even if that means sacrificing basic human needs. Like food and sleep.

Although, looking at you right now in this state, with your eyes threatening to close shut, mouth slightly agape, and hair bunched up in a tight knot, it’s clear you were exhausted. He spoke without realizing it.

“Hey dumbass! The fuck you still doing here, huh? It’s almost lights out.”

His brooding voice startled you awake, causing the papers on your lap to spill on the carpeted floor. Bakugou coughed out a low chuckle, amused by how the mere sound of his voice scares you.

“Oh it’s just you,” you said, disregarding how that could easily irritate him.

“Yeah, it’s me. Anyway you should be getting rest. You’re smart enough to know that, idiot.”

Even though it was a subtle backhanded compliment, you couldn’t help but to appreciate him acknowledging your intellect.

“I can’t. I have to go over my flash cards for mathematics and then finish this week’s homework for tomorrow—.”

“Holy fucking shit shut up. Don’t you realize what you’re doing to yourself right now?” When you didn’t answer, Bakugou slapped his forehead. “You’re gonna burn yourself out dumbass! Then you won’t have any motivation left to study for when the exams are actually starting.”

Stunned, you watch as Bakugou stomps over to where you’re sitting at, crimson eyes never leaving yours. He then props his leg on the cushion next to your trembling thighs, out stretching his arm to grab ahold of something. Too focused on the proximity between you two, it didn’t register that he swiped your flash cards from your hands. What is wrong with him? Does he want to sabotage you this badly before exams?

“Bakugou! Give those back! I need them for my exam on Monday!” you ignored how whiny you sounded, not wanting to give Katsuki the satisfaction he thinks he deserves.

“You really think whining like a bitch will make me hand these over? Think again, dumb-.”

You cut him off with a surprise attack, shoving his entire body to the ground with the force of yours. Bakugou’s arms were pinned above him as you tried to pry the flash cards from his death grip on them. Stubbornly, he wiggles his body to keep you from reaching his arms, almost knocking you off his torso like a bull. Looking down, both of you were in a compromising position. Straddling his hips while he laid lifelessly underneath you, panting like a feral dog. You tried to keep the heat from spreading throughout your body as you felt his groin rub against your sex, but failed tremendously when he can obviously see the prominent blush creeping on your cheeks.

“What the fuck was that all about?! Why are you so adamant about beating me so much!” He yelled directly in your face.

A question that neither of you knew the answer to. Why were you so determined to destroy Bakugou? Shouldn’t a fellow honor student be happy that another is also making their education a main priority? Or maybe there is another underlying reason, something deeper under the dermis of your skin that you couldn’t quite reach.

You further the distance away from his face by leaning backwards, eventually hitting the front of his thighs and kneecaps.

“You don’t understand. I have to be good at everything. I need this in order to be the hero I’ve been wanting to be. Even if that means neglecting my own needs...” you paused, unsure if Bakugou was even listening anymore. “That is, until you came along and ruined everything.”

“Hah?!” His reaction was incredulous.

“Don’t “Hah” me! It’s been your plan all along since middle school to top me at everything. So why me?!”

“Well maybe it’s because I’ve always looked up to you dumbass! Have you ever considered that!”

The words tumbled out of his throat as if he’s been holding off on the sentiment. Bakugou Katsuki, the abrasive yet studious boy, just so happens to admire you? Never it occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, you also strived to be the absolute best solely because of him. The way he strides into a battle with confidence, not an ounce of doubt that he’ll lose. His diabolical strategies that somehow works out in the end. Or the way how underneath that rough exterior, he believes he’ll be the one left climbing to the top, along with his peers. It’s his sticky pride that kept the rivalry between you two so alive. But was it really a rivalry after all this time?

Eyes widen at the confession, you stay frozen on his lap, fingers bunching up the top half of his hoodie. The silence broke Katsuki. For once, he wanted you to at least admit it, that you were also in the same boat as he is right now. So, he hesitantly reaches out and rests his palm against your flushed face, basking in at your sudden reaction to him touching you.

“Why does everything have to be a competition between us?” His soft spoken voice was uncharacteristic for him, you were so used to his gravelly tone after years of being the victim to it.

You felt the traces of his warm finger tips tickling lines on your outer cheek, as if he’s done this before.

“Isn’t that our dynamic? Competitive enemies?” The comment made him quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Enemies? You were never one in my eyes in the first place...” He trailed off, getting distracted by how close you’ve gotten to his face. To his lips.

“Then, what am I to you?” you leaned in closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You took notice that his pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker than usual. The hand rubbing lines on your cheek snaked around behind your head, taking full comfort on the base of your neck. The feeling was quite foreign to you. How long you yearned till days on end for someone to touch you tenderly like this. Especially from someone like Katsuki Bakugou.

“Does this answer your question.” Was all he said before smashing his lips to mount yours, the sudden contact making you shiver in his arms.

You felt him breathe out in surprise against your mouth when you took the initiative by swiping your tongue on his bottom lip. The kiss was exquisitely slow and intense. So intense that Bakugou forgot where he even was at the moment, too engulfed at the texture of your tongue asking for entrance. The fingers digging into the back of your neck started to hurt, but you didn’t mind the pain, the pleasure overwhelming all your senses. You can hear the harsh undertones of his breathing every time you slightly moved the lower half of your body.

“Stop moving, idiot,” he said breathlessly.

He knew he was fucked by seeing the smirk forming on your lips.

“Oh, you mean like this?” You then grind your hips in a harsh motion, relishing in the bashful look on Katsuki’s face.

He let his hands go freely, attaching themselves on both sides of your hips, grounding you to stop altogether. He sat in an upright position, encasing you between his legs and hard chest, your legs wrapping around his torso. Any other time it’d be comforting, but right now you felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

“Who knew the good girl would be so disobedient? Kind of hot not gonna lie.” He bent his head to where it was directly hovering over the sensitive spot on your collarbone. “Even when we’re just making out, you have to make everything a goddamn competition huh?”

A gasp left your throat once his tongue licked a clean strip on the surface. He chuckled, loving the feeling of you squirming in his muscular arms and continued the attack on your skin. His feather-like kisses switched to full on feverish sucking and biting. He proceeded to suck on the area, letting go with a definite ‘pop’, then returned back by making out on the bruised skin.

The combination of his tongue, the death grip on your hip, and the bulge protruding from his loose sweatpants was too much stimulation already. Before you knew it, Katsuki abruptly stood up from the floor, along with you, and placed you back on the plush couch. Your legs were wide open, giving him a good view of your white panties beneath the school skirt. You clamped your legs together after seeing the blonde lick his lips at the sight.

“D-Don’t be such a pervert,” you squeaked out.

That didn’t stop him from slipping his hand in between the crack of your legs, spreading them wider than before.

“Stop lying to yourself. You’ve imagined me between these thighs haven’t you?” The silence following his question was enough to suffice him. “Such a naughty girl.” Those crimson eyes stared straight ahead as he tugged your panties down a notch.

Here?! Right now? Why couldn’t he reside both of you in his dorm? It was literally at the end of the hallway. Plus, the thought of your teacher, Aizawa, catching you would be mortifying.

Your hand quickly latched itself around Katsuki’s forearm, halting him from proceeding his lustrous actions.

“What are you doing?! We could get caught you idiot!”

Katsuki grins and says, “You’re right. We need to find a way to shut you up.” Without preamble, he practically ripped the thin panties with sheer ferocity, causing you to yelp. You were about to scold him for ruining your favorite pair when said panties got shoved into your open mouth. “Remember, don’t want to get us caught right? Now be the good girl like you are and stay quiet for me.” Obediently you nodded at his order and prayed that whatever he’s going to do to you won’t be too much.

Katsuki hummed, obviously pleased at how well you’re going along with this. He wonders how far you’ll go till you break. With the swipe of his tongue, Katsuki dragged it up and down on the opening of your drenched sex. You mewled at the new sensation, legs already trembling as he his own salvia covered your folds. He bit and nibbled on the sweet spot, the clit, and lapped a few lazy strokes with his pointer finger in circular motions. Before you could stop him, he inserted the lubricant finger into your hole slowly, pumping it a couple of times to get you loosened up. Muffled moans perked up the ears of Katsuki. Looking up, he saw the beautiful sight of your eyes rolled behind your head along with the familiar tint of red on your cheeks. Just like the secretive slut you truly are, you swayed your hips to create more friction. Katsuki acknowledged your needy movements and dipped his head between your legs again, returning back to kissing your sex open mouthed. The lewd noises of him sucking on your wetness elicited a long drawn out moan from you, making Katsuki’s own cock twitch at the glorious sound.

“You’re so fucking cute like this. Almost coming from just my tongue and fingers. Fucking slut,” he said between suctions. “God, what were we thinking...we could’ve just resolved our issues like this every time.”

You grabbed a handful of his spiked up hair and raised his head away from your lower region. While doing so, you spit out the soaked clothed panty from your mouth, letting it drift off to the floor.

“Just s-shut up and do something about m-me,” you manage to croak out. You flicked your eyes on Katsuki and to the hand buried inside your skirt.

“Ah, want more than just my fingers? Could’ve just said so. Why are you being so quiet with your needy demands, babe?”

This newfound nickname plucked a heart sting within you. You shook off his snarky comment and stood up from the couch. If it’s a competition he wants, then it’s a competition he’ll get.

“Take off your pants and sit on the couch.”

Craning his head back, his own roar of a laughter bounced across the quiet room. Laughter dying down, his expression changed seeing how serious you actually were.

“Tch. Whatever you say dumbass. Don’t want you to explode on me now.”

He did as you said and removed the article of clothing, leaving him in nothing but his red boxer briefs. The bulge grew bigger the longer you stared at it. He laid back on the plush cushion and rested his arms behind his head.

“Alright, I’m waiting Y/N,” he taunted you.

One by one, you unbutton your school uniform and let it fall off your shoulders, along with your plaid skirt pooling at your ankles. Arms crossed on your chest you tower over Katsuki, who was surprisingly not staring at your goods, but your eyes. Beckoning you forward with his glare, you straddle him immediately, hands resting on his broad shoulders.

My, all these years of being in the same class and never once did you take advantage of appreciating how chiseled he looked in his hero costume. Sometimes you’d glance his way or pretend to be busy, but really, you wanted to see him in action. The way how his muscles would contract with each swing or punch. It was enough to make a girl swoon. Now you were swooning for sure. On his lap to be precise.

“Oi, you gonna do something nerd? My cock isn’t going to finish off itself.” His voice snapped you back to reality.

It took a few minutes, but you were finally hovering over the tip of his throbbing member, the glistening of his pre-cum coating your fingers. You teased him by rubbing just the tip against your entrance, lubricating the member even more. He tried to muffle his whines, but failed tremendously after feeling his tip graze your sex. Both of you were heavily now, anticipation radiating off of your sweaty bodies. Tenderly, you kissed him open mouth while sheathing yourself on his cock.

“Holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck,” the vulgar words spilled from his mouth against yours as you bottomed out. You stayed in that position. Still unsure what to do and what you got yourself into. Pretty sure you’re torturing Katsuki by the minute.

“F-Fucking move," He growled in your ear.

Leaning in closer you whisper, “You have to beg for it then.” You nibbled the loose skin on the bottom of his ear and tugged it gently.

“Hell no! God-fucking-damnit don’t make this a competition right now Y/N.” The palm of his abnormally large hand pushed your face away from his. You giggled.

“C’mon Bakugou, there’s no harm in it. Just say please?”

“Fuck you shitty woman...”

“That’s not begging,” you pouted.

He pursed his lips. Bakugou admittedly is getting more turned on by the minute, and not just because you were practically inside him.

“P-Please fucking move. I w-want you to fuck me so bad you have no idea. Please Y/N...”

Smiling, you raised your hips to where the veins on the side of his member scraped the walls within you. It made your cunt twitch in pure ecstasy. Slowly, you lowered yourself back down, only this time you weren’t stagnant. You repeated the same vertical movements, clashing your hips with his. Bakugou titled his head back on the couch, degrading sentiments leaving his mouth as his hands grasped the sweaty flesh of your ass, squeezing it harshly every time you bounced on his dick. The tip of his member taking your breath away as it prodded the spongy walls.

“Yes- oh fuck yes. Ngh, keep doing that. Yeah like that. Hah-fuck, don’t stop,” he said between the constant panting.

Due to your rapid bouncing, your boobs were flailing in the air, occasionally hitting Bakugou in the face. Katsuki took matters into his own hands and latched his mouth around one of your perked nipples. You squealed at the sudden sensation.

“B-Bakugou...don’t do that...it’ll make me come faster,” you moaned as he grazed his teeth on your taut nipple.

For revenge, he tugged back the areola till it reached a few centimeters from your chest. Painful yes, but you couldn’t deny it felt amazing. He quickly let go and returned to sucking on the tit, lathering it up with his own spit. All the while you were riding him till the muscles and tendons in your legs gave out. Steadying your hands on his shoulders, you grounded on your knees to give yourself a better leverage. Feeling touch starved, Bakugou shoved your hands from his shoulders and laced his fingers between them. Like a missing puzzle piece, you fit in perfectly with him. Everything about you was perfection. You defined it. Sitting here watching as you take him well, physically or not, he was completely enamored by the mere sight of you. He craned his head to brush just the tip of your nose. A nose he unmistakably mentally captured because he loved the feature so much.

Although, he couldn’t think straight after that once you bottomed out again and rolled your hips in tune to his panting. You made a mess out of the aggressive blonde. Each time you swayed your body to the side he’d grunt out a low moan, trying to contain his usual loud profanities from waking up your classmates. Bakugou reached down and teasingly rubbed the sensitive bud, getting revenge for all the times you’ve pissed him off. Under your breath, you moaned out his last name.

“Say my name,” he grunted, hands continuing to expertly work on you from below.

Confused, you obeyed and moaned, “Bakugou!”

Suddenly, a painful sting sparked throughout your lower back. Eyes glued shut due to the searing pain, you whimper feeling a calloused hand smooth over the spot on your ass.

Katsuki spanked you. And you liked it.

“My actual name, dumbass. I wanna hear it coming from your mouth.”

With a thrust, you continue moving up and down on his cock, never once missing a beat.

“K-...Katsuki. Katsuki-Katsuki...” his name sounded ethereal, as if he was a higher being.

Katsuki returned the favor and fisted your hair in a tight knot, your scalp screaming at how harsh he was pulling.

“That’s a good girl.”

With a playful slap to your behind, Katsuki roughly shoves you to mount his lips again. Lips parted, both of your tongues twisted against each other, sharing a decent amount of saliva. He slipped out and pecked your lips a few times before biting down on your bottom lip. It didn’t hurt like all the times he inflicted pain on you previously. But this time you swore you felt the trickle of blood trailing down to your chin. The coppery taste infiltrating your taste buds only increased your arousal. What a masochist.

Bakugou noticed the pacing of your movements decreasing, indicating you are already feeling worn out, and steadied his hands onto your hips.

“Just let me do the work here, dumbass,” he said as he thrusted sharply into your womb, causing you to whimper into his neck. “I’ll take good care of you. You deserve a break from studying after all.”

You woke up feeling dizzy and fatigued, body aching from your toes to your head. From what you can remember, you were in the middle of studying when...

Katsuki happened.

Then you realized you weren’t in the commons area anymore. Somehow, you were laying in a medium sized bed, covers strewn over your naked body, along with a muscular arm draped across your torso. To your side you can see a passed out Katsuki snoring quietly into his pillow. Even when he’s asleep, he still looks angry.

Jolting upright, you carefully pry his arm from your body. No prevail. He’s got a strong hold on you.

He shuffled in his sleep and tightened his grip around you.

“Mmm...not leaving...stay a little longer,” he mumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “We both can’t walk out of your dorm in the morning. People will get suspicious of us. Not to mention Aizawa,” you retorted back.

“Oh? Don’t like the idea of ‘us’ huh? That’s not what you said last night.”

You didn’t need to look to know he was wearing his infamous shit eating smirk.

“Shut up.”

For the first time you heard Katsuki genuinely laugh without forcing it. You looked over and saw his eyes wide open now, staring at nothing but you.

“Whatever, you love me Y/N.”

“I DO NOT!”

Grabbing your face with his rough hands, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

“Go to fucking sleep nerd, we have a pre-exam in a few hours.”

(You can obviously tell I got lazy at the end LMFAO. This has been in my drafts for a LONG time. Also, this isn’t edited so please excuse the horrendous text that is this post. Xoxo)

#bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou

686 notes · View notes

nanasparadise · 4 years

Text

“Losing my senses for you” Yan!Joseph (Part 3) x female reader

Hiya everyone! Here’s a little Yan! Joseph (Part 3) x female reader for y’all because apparently, I like to see Suzi suffer lol

Summary: You and your soulmate Joseph share a pleasant dream, as always. Though suddenly, the elderly wants to take your friendship to the next level...

TW: age gap, implied cheating, implied kidnapping, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Word count: 2022

Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. Sensible enough to fall in love with his current wife and have a child with her, disregarding the fact that Suzi Q wasn’t his soulmate. Why would he have denied himself love, a family? No, Joseph had been rational enough to not care about that ‘dreaming of your soulmate’ humbug. That had been the case until he’d met you.

The male would have never imagined seeing his soulmate in his dream, not after all these years being married and especially not as an elderly man. You were still so young, a blooming flower in your twenties, ready to conquer the world. How could Joseph be your soulmate? But there was no denying that the Brit was constantly dreaming of you. Nearly every morning he’d wake up, your face still lingering on his mind while his spouse slept peacefully next to him, knowing nothing about her husband’s dream invader. Sometimes, he’d even whisper your name. Joseph didn’t have the heart to tell her, after all, Suzi had been his love for most of his life. But apparently, not the one to spend the remainder of it with.

This night wasn’t an exception when it came to your nocturnal visits. This time, the two of you sat on the terrace of a café near Joseph’s flat in New York City. The crowding streets of the metropolis filled the air with a cacophony of sounds: honking taxi cars, chatting people, the occasional dog that barked loudly. Even though every tiny thing seemed to buzz with life, Joseph knew that none of this was real- all would cease to exist once he’d wake up, except for him and you. Politely, you smiled at the Brit.

“Hello Mr. Joestar, how are you doing today?”, you greeted him, as you always did. Both of you had agreed that you wouldn’t refer to the elderly man with his first name, wanting to keep some distance between you. Just like Joseph, you had been more than surprised to notice that your soulmate wasn’t a person around your age. Though never having been openly said, you two knew you wouldn’t pursue any romantic advances towards each other. At some point, Joseph had even revealed to you that he was married and had a daughter and a grandson. But since you hadn’t found a way yet to end these dreams, you were behaving on an amicable basis. The male believed you’d probably see in him a grandfather figure. Though Joseph couldn’t tell anymore if he saw you as a granddaughter …

As per usual, the pair consisting of you chattered the whole time. You told him about your new job, how you were nervous to meet your colleagues, wondering if you’d get along well. While you were talking, you kept fiddling the napkin next to you, demonstrating your anxiety. During your countless encounters, Joseph had learnt to read your body language. Confidently, the man rested his real gloved hand on top of yours, stopping your tic. You stared into the male’s green eyes, astonishment written on your face.

“Y/N,” Joseph said softly, “you don’t need to be nervous, dear. How could they not like such a ray of sunshine like you?” He flashed you a big grin at his final words. You averted his tender gaze. Oh, how Joseph loved this bashful expression on your face. You were so easy to tease.

“Thank you, Mr. Joestar, though I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Please, call me Joseph”, the elderly man blurted out. A big thumb idly drew circles on the back of your hand. He didn’t know what had driven him into saying this, into breaking the formal distance between you - at least he didn’t know consciously. Deep inside, he was well aware that he loved you - more than just a friend, than a granddaughter, hell, even more than Suzi. In the end, you were his soulmate. Suddenly, all the previous talk about how any other kind of love paled compared to the love for your soulmate didn’t seem like humbug to Joseph anymore. No, the once reasonable man had been utterly struck by the arrow of a foolish love, a love he hadn’t experienced beforehand – not even with his wife. He had been struck by you. Your surprise only grew.

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t that be awkward?”, you asked hesitantly, eyeing your hand. Joseph stayed persistent though.

“Not at all, Y/N. It’s only natural to call me by my first name after all our dates, isn’t it?”, the man winked playfully at you. He really wanted to see how far he could go with his flirtatious banter until you’d retreat. Or maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d feel the same as him, wanting more out of these encounters. Maybe… Hope blossomed in Joseph’s chest, making the elderly man feel like a lovesick teenager all over again. Only you held that much power over him. Your following words crushed that spark of hope fairly quickly though.

“I don’t know, Mr. Joestar…,” you retorted, obviously refusing to address him as Joseph, “Don’t you think it would enable unwanted feelings between us? This is quite a hard situation anyway for us – you with your family, me with my young age – I don’t think we need to complicate things further.” At this statement, the light in Joseph’s green eyes extinguished like a flame. Of course. He might have lost his mind, but you didn’t. No, you remained rational, cool-headed.

“Ah, I see”, Joseph simply replied, barely hiding the disappointment in his raspy voice. “This is for the best, you old fool,” the tiny voice whispered in Joseph’s head, “How could you keep up with her?” Bitter at his own thoughts, the man made a crestfallen grimace.

“I’m sorry, I don’t intend to hurt your feelings in any way. I do enjoy the time we spend together and I appreciate you, Mr. Joestar”, you added remorsefully. The Brit’s heart warmed at your words of consideration. You cared for him, you must, he was convinced. The effects of the soulmate bond couldn’t just be ignored by you. Maybe, there was still a chance for him. Maybe…

“Y/N”, Joseph murmured your name ever so gently. Surprised by the softness of his tone, you looked up to him. He briefly wetted his lips before he proceeded talking. “I appreciate you, too. A lot, actually. Every time I’m in your company, I’m the happiest man alive. You draw me in and I can’t help myself but wanting more.” You tried to interrupt him, but Joseph quickly stopped you by raising his hand and continuing his speech. “Ah ah, honey, please let me finish. I know what you want to say: ‘But Mr. Joestar, what about your family?’ Well, they’ll understand, they have to. We’re soulmates, I can’t just ignore that. I’ll leave my wife for you, then we can start a life together. Please, my love, consider my words. After all, even without knowing it, I’ve been waiting the whole time for you.” Joseph gazed intensely in your eyes, yearning painted across his face. He patiently watched you gulp heavily and waited for your answer while he put his hand back on yours.

“Your words are sweet and I’m grateful for your sincerity, Mr. Joestar,” you eventually sputtered, “you’re dear to me, I’d be lying if I said you weren’t, but not in the way you intend it to be. I don’t think I could ever see you in a romantic way. And even if I could, I don’t want to be a homewrecker. I know you love your family, you shouldn’t toss them away for me.” Joseph sighed deeply. He’d learnt with experience to tame his quick temper, but still, impatience flared up inside him.

“Why can’t you give me, give us, a try? I’m aware that our initial plan was to keep some distance between us, but if we both have feelings for each other, why deny them then? You said you couldn’t see me as a lover, but I don’t believe that. Give me a chance and I’ll prove you how much I love you.” Joseph slightly squeezed your hand while spilling out his passionate words. “You said I shouldn’t toss away my family, but you want me to throw you away. How could I do that? Every morning, it’s your name that escapes my lips, your body I want to feel next to mine, your scent I want to inhale.” The man grew desperate the more he talked. “Don’t worry about our age difference, I know a way for you to grow old with me.” Joseph perceived your puzzled face from the corner of his eyes as he fixated his gaze on your hand, but kept speaking. “I can give you so much Y/N, if only you’d let me. Please, let us try it.” He finally looked up to you, fearing and yet anticipating your reaction. Yes, only you could make him this nervous… Your brows were tightly furrowed, though a hint of sympathy seeped through your kind eyes.

“Joseph…”, you whispered softly. The Brit’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird upon hearing you finally say his first name. “I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to reveal this to you, but it’s only fair for me to be honest to you as well. I’ve actually met this man a while ago.”

Joseph’s jaw dropped at your confession and his eyes widened. No, this couldn’t be true. He felt as if his whole world had shattered in this moment. Cruelly, you decided to hurt him more with your words. “And to be frank, things are going well. We’ve even talked about moving in together. I think he might be the one I want to spend my life with, Joseph.” Thud. Joseph’s prosthetic hand slammed harshly on the table. Instinctively, you winced at the loud noise.

“Why would you say that to me?!”, the man in front of you shouted, desperation coating his voice, “Why would you break my heart like that? I can’t believe it! Here I am, thinking about leaving my wife for you while you’ve been having fun with some other guy!” Joseph’s grasps painfully tightened around your hand. His handsome features had transformed into a terrifyingly furious grimace. You gasped fearfully, trying to retrieve your hand from Joseph’s hold. “Why would you bother to be with him when I’m right here? He isn’t your soulmate, I am!” Hot anger flooded the male’s body. It’s been years since he felt this kind of raw emotion again. Joseph glared at you while you still tried unsuccessfully to escape his grasp. Eventually, he let go of your hand. Hastily, you pulled it away from the table. Taking a deep breath, you spoke up.

“I think you forget that I’m still an independent woman, Mr. Joestar.”

“So we’re back at the surname, huh?”, the Brit thought gloomily.

“No matter if we’re soulmates, I’ve still got my own life, as you do. Which means I can choose with whom I’m in a relationship. I hope this incident here is non-recurring and that you’ve come back to your senses the next time we’ll see each other.”

With these final words, Joseph woke abruptly up. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins from his intense outbreak. While laying down on his bed, he tried to calm his agitated breaths. “I should come back to my senses, huh?,” the male muttered quietly into the room as to not wake up Suzi, “What a bold thing coming out of your mouth, since you’re the source for my irrational behaviour.” Yes, Joseph had always thought of himself as a sensible man. But times had changed. And drastic times called for drastic measures. Subconsciously, the Brit knew exactly what had to be done if he didn’t want to lose you to that pest you thought was your boyfriend. Slowly, he climbed out of his bed. Joseph glanced one more time at his spouse’s sleeping form.

There was no turning back now.

Out of a drawer, the man grabbed a polaroid camera and called out his Stand.

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jjba #yandere joseph joestar #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere joseph joestar x reader #minors dni #tw: yandere #tw: age gap #tw: noncon touching #tw: implied kidnapping #tw: injury

181 notes · View notes

feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

Text

some scattered thoughts about what i’ve started calling the homecoming au, that au where maedhros and maglor come back to tirion after the war of wrath, end up prisoners-in-all-but-name in finarfin’s palace, and nothing is beautiful and everything hurts. credit for @sunflowersupremes for writing the au that for lack of a better word inspired me, credit to @outofangband for listening to me blather about this over dms, warning to everybody, this au is dark. it’s essentially about maedhros and maglor being abused for being mentally ill, talk of suicide, late stage fëanorians somehow getting worse, generally not a fun time. caveat lector

i feel like it’s worth emphasising that by the end of the war of wrath maedhros and maglor are in a bad, bad mental state

they’re so inured to violence death means nothing to them, and neither of them really remembers what it feels like to be happy. they’ve lost everything, whether to the fires of war or the maw of the oath. there are so many things maglor can’t let himself think about or he’ll tip off the precipice into madness, so many things maedhros has quietly put aside to deal with after the end of the world. they’ve got nothing left but ash and nowhere to go but their own destruction. they’re fully aware of the monsters they are, and they loathe those monsters as much as anyone else

finarfin’s offer of mercy feels like a miracle. it’s a way - it’s a way out, first and foremost, a way to somewhere else, because what could possibly be worse than this? maybe it’s even a way back to the dreamlike world of their childhood, when they were more than their sharp edges and they could look on the future without despair. i figure this is an au where maglor won that last argument, predicated entirely on the possibility of an existence without pain

maedhros is skeptical, but logics himself into going along. on one condition

‘please’ maglor tells their uncle, trying to let his guard down and show as much vulnerability as his pride will allow. ‘do not give us to the valar’

he’s more successful than he realises. the last remaining sons of fëanor have been growing visibly more and more unstable for decades now. even the elves who were once their closest lieutenants approach them with caution now

finarfin catches a glimpse of what his nephews have become. he makes a conscious decision to choose pity over fear

which - yeah, alright. maglor and maedhros need therapy, they need to process their emotions in healthy ways and build selves they can be comfortable in the skins of again. and the general mood in tirion is one of reconciliation. it was the younger generation that went to beleriand, so many people have children they feel like they’ve failed

but if they can un-fail these two, maybe there’s hope. maybe there’s a chance for them to heal

except, well. nobody who stayed in aman - nobody who’s seen cuiviénen, really, beleriand was nasty - can really process just how much healing needs to be done

like. i’ve said this before, but screeching furiously at each other at high volume for multiple hours is a regular thing maedhros and maglor do. they’re the last people in the world either of them is even slightly close to, their relationship is shot through with as much bitter hate as it is steady reliance, and really, who else can they yell at

it’s a maladaptive coping mechanism. their minders recognise this inside five minutes, i’ll give them that much

it’s just. their eventual method of stopping the fight, after trying and failing to talk the brothers down, is to jump them and gag them to stop them making so much noise

partially they were worried it might escalate into a physical fight, which to be fair, these screaming matches occasionally do. but partially they just wanted them to stop

(this is the first really big incident, but things have been subtly, uncomfortably wrong for a while now. there’s this vibe that everything would be so much easier if the brothers just behaved. acted like the nice normal princes they used to be)

(but they can’t. they’re trying (well, maglor is; maedhros is mostly going along out of resignation) but they can’t. and when all the little tensions of this supposed-to-be-happy-ending get too much, they take it out on each other, like they always do. what are they supposed to do, unleash their own corruption onto the innocent valinoreans?)

(as is usual with these shriekfests, it got vicious fast. it was maedhros saying that he should have just killed the both of them back in beleriand that makes their minders decide they have to stop this now)

the whole situation’s a mess. the way the non-exile noldor are thinking, if they can just put all the unpleasantness behind them, things can go back to normal and they can forget any of this ever happened

the valinoreans are trying to help, you understand. it’s just that their definition of ‘help’ involves sweeping everything under the rug so they can all be happy again

and everything the brothers do to remind people of all that makes them... uncomfortable

maedhros and maglor are never left alone. there’s always someone within at least hearing distance, keeping an eye on them. they initially say it’s for the brothers’ own benefit - so there’s always someone nearby in case they need help, like - but the first time maglor gets so frustrated he starts trashing his room he is immediately seized

the valinoreans get very good at stopping the brothers from doing the thing. they are less good at addressing the reasons why the brothers feel the need to do the thing

maglor is by far the angrier of the two. when he has a bad day, everyone around him knows it. he snarks, he glares at people from corners, he refuses to be at all cooperative. even on his good days, his mood never goes far above ‘melancholic’

maedhros, on the other hand, is quiet. he does what people tell him to, mostly. he sits in place and acts the perfect patient and only occasionally tries to kill himself. a poisonous plant picked here, a window’s lock subtly fiddled with there, he’s good at waiting for his minders to lower their guard enough he can take a chance

(neither of them are particularly violent towards the valinoreans to begin with, and their violent tendencies towards themselves, each other, and inanimate objects quickly recede. lashing out like that always, always makes things worse)

sometimes he’ll regress back into behaviours he learned in angband. the first time this happens and the valinoreans figure out what’s going on, he gets a very polite finarfin asking him to please stop equating them with the enemy, finarfin knows they aren’t settling in as well as they might but it’s very offensive to be compared to morgoth

still, they learn. there’s this one incident when maedhros is having a fit, and while all their minders are running about trying to make him stop, maglor, who happens to be in the room, is standing completely still, staring at nothing

one of the minders snaps ‘come on, help! don’t you care about your brother?’

... he does. they’re closer now than they were in beleriand, leaning against each others’ bodies, quietly holding hands. the palace is full of people all the time, but they’re still so isolated from the rest of the world

it’s just hard to protect someone else when you’re barely hanging on yourself

you ever write a perfect closing line, and also it’s 1:30 am? yep, yep, i’m going to bed. more tomorrow, i’d guesstimate three parts in total

#homecoming au #suicide ///#abuse ///#mental health issues ///#ableism ///#late stage feanorians #maedhros #maglor #finarfin #noldor #this ain't gonna get any prettier #my terrible fic

39 notes · View notes

shinsoussimp · 4 years

Note

mirio togata? say less

what about him with male reader who’s quirk is to copy any sound he hears so since he has a crush on mirio he sometimes talks by his voice to comfort himself like “oh you look great today” looking in the mirror and stuff? :D and once mirio sees it accidentally and he is like 🙂?? but he finds it cute because he likes reader too so he says something like “i can say it to you myself every day” and asks him out

thank you very much, love 🤍☁️

a/n: this makes me so happy🥺🥺 i swear i have a crush on this sunshine boy :)) i hope you like it!!

Mirio x sound copy quirk

having a sound copy quirk seemingly made it impossible to make friends. because while you were younger, and it was cool that you could copy animal noises or any song, when everyone grew older, they started to think that the fact you could also copy any person’s voice perfectly was pretty weird. so all of your friends gradually drifted away, and people kept quiet around you. all of the sudden everyone thought your quirk was creepy, like you would use their voice to do evil things. everyone except mirio. now you two weren’t besties or anything, but he would occasionally sit down to eat lunch with you, or say hi to you in the halls. and over time, you realized how much you liked him. you wished you two could be closer, but you feared that you would ruin the little bit of interaction you get with him now so you thought it was best to not risk it.

“y/n!! can i sit with you today?” he says cheerfully as you take out one of your headphones.

“uh, yeah of course.” you smile softly at him and he sets his tray of food down across from you.

“long time no see, am i right?” he chuckles, “why’re you always sitting all the way over here by yourself?” he looks around from the corner of the cafeteria before he starts to eat his food. you take your other headphone out and scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“i don’t really have anyone to sit with. i mean it’s not that bad over here.” you shrug. you continue to make small talk until the bell rings for you all to go back to class. after he leaves you sit there for a little bit longer, contemplating what he said at the beginning of lunch. he was right, if it wasn’t a day that he decided to come sit with you, you were alone. people really did think your quirk was creepy. there wasn’t much you could do about it, but it still hurt. and these thoughts suddenly brought you to tears. you made your way over to the bathroom so you could splash some water on your face. you look up at yourself in the mirror with red, slightly puffy eyes. you were just so sad. then an idea popped into your head. sure it was a bad one, and the reason why you had no friends, but if it would bring you a few moments of comfort? then you were up for it.

“hi y/n!” you say, copying mirio’s voice. you felt guilty that hearing it made you get butterflies in your stomach, and after spending time with him, your impression was spot on. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“can i sit with you at lunch? you look so handsome y/n~” you laugh bitterly at yourself, thinking about how stupid it was that you needed to do this to make yourself feel better. suddenly you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat come from behind you. you open you eyes to see none other than mirio, looking at you through the mirror.

“um... was that me?” your eyes widen and you turn around to face him.

“i-uh, it’s not what it looks like. i-i promise i’m not creepy! i mean, yes it was you but i-”

“relax.” he cuts you off and take a few step closer to you, leaning against the sink right next to you. he crosses his arms over his chest and gives you one long look, with zero judgement in his eyes.

“did you really miss me that much?” he teases with a smirk. you look down and play with your fingers, trying to stay as composed as possible. he pauses, suddenly realizing how hurt and lonely you really were. he reached out and lifted your chin softly with his fingers.

“y’know, i could say that to you for real.” he took another step closer to you and tilted his head slightly, “ if that’s okay with you.” with tears in your eyes, you nod.

“i-i’m sorry..” you say breathlessly as you try to wipe the tears away. he shakes his head and smiles brighter.

“i think it’s cute. you just can’t get enough of me~” you laugh a bit, feeling a bit more relaxed. he moves his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer to peck your cheek. you’re eyes widen and your face turns bright red, making him chuckle.

“can i take you out after school?”

“y-yeah. yes, please..” he smiles as he starts to head for the door.

“meet me at your lunch table, okay?” you nod, waving to him before he disappears behind the door. you exhale and lean over the sink trying to steady yourself. you couldn’t believe what just happened. someone who doesn’t think you’re creepy, the guy you liked, ended up liking you back? how did you get this lucky??

the whole rest of the day you couldn’t stop smiling, a faint blush fanning across your face the entire time. you couldn’t help but let your mind drift to what you would do during your time with mirio. your date.

#mirio togata #mirio x male reader #mirio drabble #mirio fluff #bnha drabble #bnha fluff #mha fluff

273 notes · View notes

laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

I did write a lot of words of a self indugent fic because I’m having a serious breakdown over row and these two madly in love idiots. I’m sorry I haven’t really proof read it and I don’t know what this is, I wrote it in an impulse, but I’m gonna share it for whoever needs to ease the pain of waiting another two days for row. Sending you big hugs for all the breakdowns to come. As usual i need to thank the two halves of my heart @not-just-human and @claudiarya because they're my biggest inspiration and for all the meltdowns we share ily

burning flames and raging fires

“Damn it.”

Nikolai paced the room, relentless, frantically searching for something or someone to unleash his rage on. He fisted his hands, trying to stop the violent shakes of fury that were bolting through him.

“Damn it!”

His voice came out hoarse, in a low snarl that seemed to call his demon to the surface. He slammed his hands on the table, squeezing his eyes shut. They attacked Lazlayon. The truth of what had happened was still taking root in his mind. The Fjerdans attacked Lazlayon. They attacked us. His military base, supposedly the secret one. How for all the Saints were they able to do that? How many losses had there been? Who tipped them off? All appropriate, rational questions he should have been trying to find an answer to right now, instead of walking through every corner of the sitting room of Zoya’s chamber, caught by the sheer terror of not knowing how she was. He glanced at the closed doors, barely registering the swarm of people coming and going beside him, the whirl of red keftas worn by Healers. Every time someone came in, he felt the wrenching urge of running to her, sweep her in his arms and take her to safety. Except there was nobody to protect her from right now anymore, and he had already failed at keeping her out of harm’s way. And he could do nothing but wait, sulking in his own despair and anger, while strangers tended to her.

“Your Highness.” Tolya called him as soon as he stepped in the room. The giant was still covered in sweat and dust, one of his arms badly bloodied. If the blood were his own, Nikolai could not tell. He had rarely seen his guard shaken and out of breath. He forced himself to straighten up his spine and try to focus his mind on one thought.

“Tell me.”

“We got as many as we could out, and we sealed the tunnels. We should be safe. It was a targeted attack; they knew we were there.”

Tamar growled, frustrated, holding her axes so hard her knuckles went white. As many as we could. How many? And what horrified him the most, he could not bring himself to truly care. The only person he cared about had saved their lives and was sealed behind a door he could not cross. He never hated himself as much as now. As if he could read his look, Tolya avoided his gaze, turning to his sister.

“How is the general?”

“The injuries seemed bad, but – I don’t know. Genya is inside.” Tamar answered, her eyes running to Nikolai as she spoke. “She’s going to be fine, she’s tougher than all of us put together.”

Nikolai felt it was a reassurance she was giving to herself as much as everyone else in the room. He could hear nothing but the deafening thrumming of his own heart, the panic gripping his insides and blurring his mind, the air constantly catching in his lungs. Every breath was like a painful stab in his heart, the oxygen felt like fire. His brain was torn apart; one side of it was scrabbling for solutions, making up plans and possibilities, while the other stayed gripped on the sound of her voice. The attack was all a blur, his memory was struggling to grasp strands of it. He remembered the explosions, the screaming, the utter chaos they unleashed on the Gilded Bog. It was a succession of sounds and bright flashes and the smell of blood and gunpowder. There was only one vivid image he could hold on to: Zoya with her arms stretched out to the sky and her feet planted in the ground, standing between them and the enemy, silk black hair hovering around her. As she threw her fists open, a thunderous rumbling noise had shaken the ground, the sound similar to the one that preceded an earthquake. In one split second the waters had risen from the lake, growing in a monstrous tide, swirling with Juris’ blue fire and speeding towards their opponents. Then, everything had started crumbling down on them, shattered by the force of her powers. Zoya’s diversion had saved them, providing them the time to distract the Fjerdans and run through the tunnel that connected Lazlayon to the Grand Palace. The rest, he did not want to remember. He wanted to erase from his mind Zoya toppling to the ground after being struck by the Fjerdans bullets, with the entire world crashing around her, the faint groaning she let out as she held her in his arms. Most of all, he wanted to forget her silence, or how he felt empty and powerless when someone had taken her from his hold and shut the door in his face. He knew how much his general would have scolded him if she could see him now. Pull yourself together, King Wretch, she would have said. Remember who you are. Nikolai was the king, and the king could ill afford to sulk in his anxiety and worry with his country’s safety hanging on a thread. And still, he could not bring himself to care, he could not find the strength to walk away. Not until he knew she was safe. Then you can spend the rest of the day telling me how much of an idiot I am. Please wake up and do it. He pulled the words out, tucking at the last strand of sanity he seemed to find.

“Tamar, I need you to double the security in the palace. And send scouts all over Os Alta to patrol the borders. We need to be prepared if they choose to push their attacks further.”

Tamar nodded, without leaving the grip on her weapons, her face strained. A rush of adrenaline washed over him, numbing the pain for a second.

“Tolya, no one followed us? Are we sure?”

“No one did. We blew up every entrance to the tunnels as soon as we got out.”

“Gather the other generals, tell them we’ll meet in the war room of the Grand Place to discuss how to proceed. Bring them up to the date on what happened, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“Your Highness”, Tolya tried, gently, “it would be best if you – “.

Nikolai cut him short. “I’m not leaving here until Zoya is awake.” The twins exchanged a glance, without daring to contradict his firm and cold tone or dwell on the implications of what he had just said. He did not care about this either. He did not care about anything anymore; Ravka could burn to the ground as far as he was concerned right now. Eager Ravka, which was now trying to take from him the person he held most dear. Keeping up the façade had been already tiring enough the last few weeks, but this was utterly unbearable. The doors of her chambers slammed open, and they all snapped towards the sound. Genya took a couple of steps towards them, scrubbing her hands with a clean cloth. Her hair were damp in her face, her shoulders slumped, but she locked her eye on Nikolai’s ones with a reassuring gaze that flooded him with relief.

“She’s going to be fine.” She exhaled, closing her eye for a moment, and taking a long breath in. “Thank the Saints, it looked worse than it was. The injuries were not deep, nor vital.”

Genya explained, carefully marking every word. The reprieve sank in slowly, tearing through the curtains of desperation that plagued him. Nikolai released his breath. The whole air in the room seemed to shift, the tension flowing away. He heard Tolya faintly muttering a prayer under his breath, and for once, he understood him. As much as he had never liked the dragon, maybe Juris was the actual Saint they should thank now. Tamar let out a nervous chuckle. That was all he needed; he rushed toward her door but was stopped by Genya’s hand catching his arm in a firm hold.

“Your Highness – “She hissed, glancing at him from under her lashes and lowering her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Nikolai was taken aback by the fire glinting in her amber eye, red and swollen from tears and exhaustion. She loosened her grip; he felt her hand shaking slightly, a whole tremor running through her. Her look was vengeful, enraged – and tired. His own panic was mirrored in her, but she had been the one to clean Zoya’s wounds, to watch her as she had hoped to see her eyes flutter open. Zoya hardly spoke of her affections, so Nikolai tended to forget how close the two of them were and how fiercely they protected each other.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Eliciting a diplomatic incident on top of an armed attack is what I think you’re doing.”

He let out a disgruntled breath, searching the room with his eyes. It was still full of people, coming and going, occasionally sneaking a glance at him. Studying his reactions. He wanted to send them all to hell, to scream to clear the way and spend the night listening to Zoya’s breathing.

“I need to see her, Genya.”

“And have you stopped to think on what she needs?” Again, he was startled. Genya’s voice cracked, her amber eye filling with new tears of frustration. She yanked his arm free, brushing them away and composing herself. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I am not mad at you. But you are getting married in a week”, she inhaled, steadying her voice. “I can’t let you barge in there and have people witness you having a meltdown over your general. Zoya does not need this. She needs you to be the king and solve this situation, since she had already saved you once today. It’s your turn.”

Nikolai took the daring decision to ignore how truthful her words were and how they were filling him with shame. His own selfishness had a much tougher grip on him.

“I need to see that Zoya is safe. I can’t do my job if I don’t.”

“General Nazyalensky - ”, she corrected him, sending another threatening glare his way, “- is fine. I made sure of it personally.” Genya’s gaze softened, as she gently tugged him toward a more discreet corner. “Nikolai, you need to calm down. I told you it looked worse than it was. She is not even conscious right now; they have given her a sleeping tonic that is going to last for a while. You can trust me; she is safe and out of danger. Go be our king, please, and leave this to me.”

Nikolai fell silent for a moment, turning he matter over in his head and trying to bring himself to gather some composure. “I hate it when people are so reasonable”, he huffed, “I can’t even assert my authority when I’m being the irrational one.” A faint smile tugged Genya’s lips. He trusted her with Zoya’s safety and could see the clarity of her look under all the distress of the situation. If she had promised him Zoya was fine, there was no reason to doubt her. Reason. Something he was missing entirely right now. Genya spoke again, an edge to her voice.

“If I was Zoya I would have already tried to murder you or just slapped you into some sense, you know?”

“I do. Thank you for not slapping me.”

She shook her head, still trembling, and smoothed her kefta, returning to an affectionate tone. “Come back after the meeting. I will make sure everyone is gone by that time and I will wait for you. You can see her then.”

Nikolai nodded, feeling another gust of wind clearing the clouds from his mind, although he still did not much appreciate the idea of leaving. That had always been his life, pulled away by duty, failing to protect the people he held dear and then abandoning them to their fates. He slowly got back control, slipping inside his confident mask.

“Try not to be seen. You are still getting married in a week.”

Genya added. The warning was clear, on a lot of different levels. The despise he felt for his position, for the way he was conducting himself, for how coward he felt he was being, all those feelings towered over him, threatening to drown him. Nikolai shut his eyes, shoving the worry and self-deprecation aside for another time. He had the Fjerdans and his own desire for revenge to deal with now. Gesturing for Tolya to follow him they took the corridor to the palace. The king could not help but feel he had left his own heart behind and sensed a silent hollow in his chest.

***

It was well past midnight when the last of his soldiers left, and he was finally free to rush to the Little Palace. Being away from Zoya had felt like a limb was being teared away from him, the blood spilling from an open cut. His mind kept slipping to her, and he had spent the last hours trying to keep it leashed on the issues at hand. The terror never left him; he kept dreading for someone to walk through the room with dreadful news of her, kept staring at the doors waiting for this imaginary servant that never came. He would be forever grateful to Genya, who at the chime of every hour had sent him concise notes updating him on Zoya’s conditions. To be truthful, it had been the only thing that kept him sane. He felt a rush of anticipation and renewed worry as he pushed the handle of her room, the one that had previously been the Darkling’s property. Nikolai let himself be thankful for a brief moment for the Darkling’s gift for deception. He had built his rooms to be easily accessed from the palace in complete secrecy, to be protected by curious ears and prying eyes. That came in handy right now; however, he did not stop to think of how shameful this thought was, or how much he loathed having to snuck to her rooms like a hidden thief. To his relief, Tamar was on guard outside her chamber. Nikolai did not want to meet Genya’s severe and knowing gaze again, the one that seemed to peer right into his soul. Tamar got up when she sensed him arrive.

“Your Highness.”

“Is everything alright?”

“It is. Zoya is still sleeping, the tonic they gave her is strong. The Healers said she needs to rest as much as she can for the wounds to heal properly, but she should be back up on her feet in a couple of days.”

He acknowledged her words with a nod of his chin and headed inside, but Tamar stopped him clearing her throat. “Genya has asked me to tell you she’ll be back in the early morning to check on Zoya and tailor away what she can. She said it would be best for you to go back before dawn.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you, Tamar.”

He did not have the will to fight this now. They were all tremendously right, and he hated it. He knew he was being unfair; he should not be mad at them for trying to keep up the appearances when he clearly was ignoring how to do it. Guess the king had one true weakness after all.

He locked the door behind him, and every thought and worry he had disappeared when his eyes caught her figure. He had never seen Zoya look so frail, so human and defenceless. It tore every fibre of his being apart, snatching the hair out of his lungs. She was laying on her side, with her hair splashed and tangled around her bewitching face. Nikolai tried not to linger too much on her cuts and bruises, on the bandages that peaked over the clean shirt someone put on her. Each and every one he laid his eyes on sent a stabbing pain through him.

Why do you always have to play the hero?

He thought sourly as he came closer to her. He could almost hear her voice answering him.

Because you are my king, and I am the general. It is kind of my role.

The lamplight played on her skin with the glowing rays of the moon, making her look like a nightly creature who had emerged from a bedtime fairy-tale. Trying to be as delicate as he could, he placed a chair next to her bed and slumped in it, sighing heavily. He leaned towards her, brushing some hair away from her face, untangling them slowly with his fingers. He could imagine her getting mad at the Healers for neglecting to care for it, vain and petty as always. Even the thought of this made him smile and warmed him up. He kept his work for a little while, clearing the mess of her mane as best as he could without disturbing her too much. Zoya shifted in the covers but did not wake up. As Tamar warned him, the tonic was strong enough to keep her in her sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheeks and her lips before he pulled himself away, scorched by the improper touch he had let himself have.

Nikolai did not know how much time he spent just looking at her, taking the sight of a safe and placid Zoya. At some point, he straightened himself up, and was pulled out of his trance when his eyes caught a bandage on her arm where a bright red flower was blossoming through the linen. He was not sure if the Healer had not changed it, or the wound was opening again. He scanned the room, finding some clean strip of cloth and a bowl of cold water they left there. He took them and brought them back to his seat, pondering if and how to proceed. He could not stand the sight of blood on her; it was too gutting to take. Picking up his resolve, he rolled up his sleeves and gently tugged her arm towards him, starting to undo the previous bandage. When the last strip fell off, he dipped a clean cloth in the water and brushed the wound again until her skin was clear, feeling another rush of relief.

Every once in a while, Zoya stirred and let out a croaked breath, he saw her lashes flutter, or he felt a shiver ran through her. He stilled when she moved, terrified to wake her up and break the spell. Nikolai felt like he was stealing a precious and prohibited moment, a forbidden intimacy. Every touch of her skin felt sacred, felt like a prayer ushered in the quiet of night. He had never thought, never believed he could feel this kind of profound and pure love for someone. Even though he had long since accepted and acknowledged what he felt, it was still hard to grasp how deep it ran in his veins, how unforgiving the need of her was. It shattered everything else in its wake. It had begun like a small spark, nourished by stolen glances, gentle touches and truths whispered in the dark, fostered by forgotten secrets they had shared only to each other and simple moments that had withered away like the wind. And now the fire was blazing, the flames thriving and consuming whatever else there was. She had nestled herself in the deepest part of his heart where a storm was raging its fury. It was nothing like the tepid sentiment he had had for other people in the past. And he did not want to believe he was going to lose her, to turn his back on her. He would never be the same again, after loving her like this. After wanting her and longing for her like this. He would never, could never survive it, desire or have anyone that was not her. And for once, he just let this feeling flood, he just let himself relish in it and in the certainty that she was here, with him, by his side. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing could taint this. He wished she could hear him if he whispered in her ear.

I am in love with you.

He wished he could free his heart and let it hope. He wished she could believe him if he promised her.

Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.

Maybe she could not hear him, but he would promise anyway, against every odd and reality they were living. Whatever was bound to happen, he would hold on to this bond. Nikolai laid back her arm to rest on the bed and tucked her covers when he finished, getting up and pouring himself a glass of her favourite cordial he knew she kept hidden in one of her desk’s drawers. Another thing she would kill him for, to add to the long list of reasons he had already piled up in these years. The alcohol burned his throat but helped him ease his mind a bit more. Zoya was breathing evenly and quietly again, and he finally felt sure enough that she was past harm. The exhaustion he had hoarded and kept under control creeped up to him at this realization. Maybe he could let himself rest too. He eyed a small sofa from which he could still see her if he laid in it, that seemed like a good enough place to close his eyes for a while. It was placed on the side of her bed, near enough to her that he could feel her warmth, hear her movements if she needed him. He put the glass down on her nightstand, holding her hand up to him to leave a soft kiss on her knuckles and cupping her cheek briefly.

“Rest well, my ruthless Zoya.”

He muttered against her skin, hovering with his lips on her neck. He resisted the urge to lean closer to her mouth; he had stirred away from propriety far enough for one night. And do not ever leave me, even if I don’t deserve you, Nikolai added in his mind, as he leaned his head on the cushion and snuck a last glance at Zoya before his eyes dropped close and the familiar scent of wildflowers drifted him to sleep.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #grishaverse #fan fiction #my writing #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #when will you confess nikolai please #we cant wait anymore #i really dont know what this is just a self indulgent midnight writing #Grishaverse fic #king of scars #post kos

57 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Saved by a Nightmare.”

I wanted to write something short and quick today, but this is what happened instead. I hope you all like. I knw you wanted to know more about the Bran and what happened to Ket

He was alone.

Finally!

He said that, but what he didn’t know is that he had actually been mostly alone for the past five years. After his traumatic experience some five years earlier, he had requested a transfer to a mining station on an unnamed planet in an unnamed system on the very outskirts of andromeda.

He had not come up for air in those five years.

He had not seen a sole or the suggestion of another sole other than the glowing bioluminescent coating that he left behind to brighten up the tunnels just a bit.

He was technically supposed to be down here mining precious metals, and of course every day he sent up a token care of rocks and waste through the main shaft just to make him think he was actually doing something. He was not, in fact, doing anything at all really except slowly excavating his tunnel deeper and deeper, this increasing the likelihood that he would never see another living being for the rest of his life.

And so there he rested at the bottom of the deepest shaft amid a pile of rubble contemplating his own thoughts.

A pastime that was not really recommended because when he went into his own thoughts he often spent much of that time bitterly contemplating the last few years and what had led him here in the first place.

Ket was famous, and he had spent the list five years trying to make himself anonymous once again.

Why was he famous?

Because he had been the first alien to have ever met a human.

He was the first alien species humans had ever come in contact with, and because of that chance meeting he would probably have emotional scars for the rest of his life. When he closed his eyes at night he often watched, as if in slow motion as the dangerous creature with its too sharp teeth and strange churring growl chased him through mases and tunnels, never giving up, never ending pursuit until Ket wa exhausted and lying helpless on the floor.

He saw the thing in his dreams.

Jumped at every noise

And cowered at the very thought.

He had been just a pup then really, but the meeting had scarred him for life.

He had asked to come here only months after the encounter and hadn’t come up for air since. The outside world was lost to him, and he knew nothing of it except for the horrible humans which were now probably waiting for him on the surface, ready to eat him.

A part of him wondered if the strange predator creatures had taken over the galaxy yet, and maybe he was the last one of his species left trapped down here in the dark.

Ket didn’t watch the news, or seek any information about the horrifying creatures that had turned him into this. It would have taken him less than half a day to crawl from his tunnels and go ask, but the thought of leaving his safe, protective confines, just make him sick to think about.

No, he would stay here where it was safe.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, when suddenly a low rumbling tremor rose up through his body.

He sat up and looked around as the cave shook and pebbles danced on the floor.

What was going on!

He turned in a tight circle pressing his ear against the wall.

Oh hell!

The tremor had destabilized his tunnel. He could hear it through the rocks.

What was happening! He tried to move, but as he shifted he felt the tunnel rumble slightly.

On no….. On no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end, he was going to die down here, and there was no one to come save him. He hadn’t submitted a report in weeks….

In reality years.

No one was going to be ale to find him!

He sat there frozen in shock as another tremor rocked his tunnels. WHat was happening!

*** “Mayday mayday, Omen one this is mining facility 46A13 requisition immediate assistance.”

“Copy that 46, Omen in root to your position, please stand by.”

“And how do you plan on dealing with a tunnel collapse, Admiral. That's not exactly our area of expertise.” Sunny walked beside him, her long even strides eating away the distance as they made their way down towards the hanger.

“I have no idea but we are going to find a way.” They rounded a corner and the Admiral dropped to one knee for a quick moment offering his hand to a small fluffy figure who climbed onto his hand and allowed the Admiral to rest him on his shoulder, “Lord Avex, I am glad you could make it. Have you been briefed.”

The small, colorful, and pig eared creature tapped his foot on the Admiral’s shoulder.

“I think, if we remove one of the Vrul shield modulators, and unhook one of the laser mounts we might be able to make something functional for a rescue mission.”

“How dangerous is that going to be taking two high powered objects into a cave?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.”

“A twenty.”

Admiral Vir grunted and rounded the corner to where a group of marines werve suiting up in armored spelunking gear.

“Don’t the mining companies have equipment for this kind of thing?” Sunny asked, “I would assume they would be ready for any eventuality like this?”

“You would think that.” Adam said, walking over to joining the others, “But they are actually a little less prepared than you might think. The Bran have been mining manually for a long time, and they usually don’t need precautionary measures because they mine so well, of course this planet had also not shown any seismic activity up until now either, so I guess we can all be wrong about something.

“Lord Avex, talk to your men about getting the equipment ready.”

The fuzzy creatures bobbed its head, which looked more like it’s entier body, and rolled down the Admiral’s arm like a ramp, plopping to the floor and then dashing off into the darkness.

Adam pulled on a hard hat and tested the light.

“I still don’t see why they would send you. You guys have to experience in this sort of thing.” Sunny pointed out

Adam secured his hard hat and looked up smiling, “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were worried about me.”

She crossed both of her arms, “I AM worried about you, you big idiot. You seem to have this thing for running into dangerous situations with only half assed plans.”

He just smiled, “Not entirely half assed, we are going to be hooked up to camera feeds leading up to some of the diggers who are going to give us instructions.”

“Then why don’t they do it themselves?”

“The bran aren’t exactly known for their bravery, Sunny.”

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, “And sometimes, I wish that you weren’t known for yours either.”

“I’m flattered, I really am, but I have to go.” he reached out a hand, paused and then drew it back, stepping away while awkwardly clearing his throat, “Anyway, keep the crew out of trouble while I am gone will you.”

Sunny had no time to say anything else as Lord Avex returned at the head of a small army of his fluffy companions carrying some random parts that they were able to attach to Adam with some warning that this was going to be very dangerous.

Lord Avex would be accompanying him to make sure the machine didn’t self destruct at any point.

Sunny did not find that particularly comforting.

The humans on the other hand suited up like it was just another day for them, setting up and loading onto the drop ship without so much as a backward glance.

Adam flew one of the ships down, lord Avex claiming the copilot seat.

The world they landed on was tidally locked with it’s star leaving on side completely cold and the other side overly hot. They landed on the band between light and dark where it was bearable, and made it to within the Bran’s atmospheric bubble, which was the one piece of technology they were actually known for.

Upon arrival they were briefed on the situation.

Less than an hour ago there had been some sort of seismic activity below the surface of the planet. The jolt had been enough to destabilize many of the tunnels. Fortunately for them large groups of Bran had been able to make their way out due to their superior mining skills, but there were still a few trapped inside due to cave ins.

No bran was willing to go back down there to help their comrades, but the Tesraki overseers had had the brilliant idea to look for a group of creatures stupid enough to try themselves.

At least the Tesraki seemed to care about their people, which wasn’t often the case with the furry businessmen.

Most of the workers were stuck on upper levels, and would be relatively easy to get out.

But there was one.

“I am going to be honest with you Admiral, we aren’t entirely sure the bran is still alive down there. No one has seen him in nearly five years. We are only sure that he lives because, occasionally we get sent up a cart of useless rubble from one of the deeper shafts. Generally I would say he is a gonner and just leave him there, but, we have to try all of our options before we resort to abandoning one of our people.”

Adam nodded, “I have a Vrul strength shield and a Celzex designed laser. Will that be enough.”

The two Tesraki looked between each other in quick contemplation before one of them nodded, “The laser, for sure, but I don’t know how well a shield would stand up to the entire weight of a mountain crushing you, we can only hope that we can navigate you down there fast enough and quietly enough not to disturb the tunnels too much.”

“I will go with you to work the laser.” Lord Avex announced, and Adam didn’t argue. He knew the little creature would be offended if he questioned his honor. Celzex may have been insufferable egoists most of the time, but no one could deny their sheer bravery, or perhaps stupidity, but that was something he could admire at least.

He was a human after all, and had practically written the book on competent stupidity.

They were led across open ground under a dark sky, where massive floodlights were being shined down on the multiple tunnel entrances.

They walked a ways into the darkness of the first mine shaft where Bran were still fleeing for cover.

From there each of them was paired with a handler, who would give them instructions on their way down.

Adam was paired with the team lead since he was going to be going deepest. Lord Avex sat on his shoulder.

The Bran stared at them as they walked inside, shying away from the much taller, much scarier looking humans.

Looking at them brought back memories of his first alien encounter, a memory that was both fond and embarrassing considering he was pretty sure he had driven that particular alien to madness.

He had tried to find Ket before, to apologize for freaking him out, but by the time he had gotten around to it, the Bran had already gone to ground. Oh well, maybe one day something would happen, and he would get his chance to apologize

“Can you hear me.”

“Yeah I've got it.: He said, adjusting the sound on his implant.

“Now the entire cave system has been built throughout with audio relays, so we shouldn’t lose contact, but if we do, keep moving forward, and whatever you do, try to keep control of your feet and don’t let them touch the side walls.”

“Yes sir.”

The Bran had mostly cleared out of the front entrance leaving it open for Adam and the group of marines to begin their descent down into the darkness. He looked over at the marines in admiration, never had he had the opportunity to work with such a brave group of men and women, and he looked up to them every day.

They started breaking off halfway down the shaft to their different areas, until Adam was the last one still walking down. At this point the saft was still big enough for him to stand at his full height, and floodlights on the walls were still giving him a good view of where he was going. He had gone down some distance by the time he reached the end given two passages to chose from.

“Left.” he was ordered, and he stepped inside, gingerly making his way across the floor and trying not to touch the walls.

Lord Avex rested on his shoulder controlling his head mounted light.

The tunnel grew smaller and smaller as he went, and he found himself crouching along the way.

Lord Avex moved around back and clung to Adam’s harness.

“See the cracking in the cave above you,”

Adam looked up and did, to his chagrin, see a web of hairline cracks spidering across the ceiling, “Yeah.”

“Those are kept in check by the shoring up along the walls, and you don’t have to worry about them. Cave ins are going to be our biggest concern, now take the next right.”

He did as told,and had to duck under a low opening before continuing his way down. By way of instruction he made his way deep into the ground, sliding down ropes, and climbing through caverns with the ease of a creature that could only have been Bran or human. As far as he knew the Bran were the only other creature that had ever been designed for climbing besides humans, though he was finding that that kind of climbing was a bit different. Humans had originally found their homes in trees, while the Bran had always been cave dwelling creatures.

He found this out pretty soon as he tried to fit his shoulders through a very small opening, slithering forward and trying not to disturb the rock too much.

He was glad he had never been claustrophobic because even he was feeling a little closed off, he could hardly imagine what someone with a fear of being crushed would feel at a moment like this.

“How are you doing down there Admiral.”

He was huffing and puffing rather heavily as he army crawled through the next section of tunnels, lord Avex waddling ust before him.

“Good, good If these caves get any smaller I might not be able to fit though…. Shoulders too big, and there better be a place for me to turn around or otherwise I’m well and truly fucked.” He said that as a joke but a part of him was definitely panicking at that possibility.

“The Bran always build turnaround areas into their tunnel, Admiral, you are going to be fine. Anyway you are approaching the next section. This is a part no one else has been in as far as I know, so we are going to have to play it by ear.

That also was not entirely comforting, but he was going to have to work with it.

He hurried forward , as much as he could and slithered into the vertical shaft going downward.

This was scary as hell, but he kept control and didn’t panic crawling his way deeper and deeper into the caves.

At one point he was coming round a sharp corner some hour down into the dark when a soft rumbling rolled through the stone.

He felt his heart jump into his throat and the rocks swayed around him.

For a moment a spot of true panic colored his thoughts. He was going to die down here…. After everything that had happened….

“Hold on, must be an aftershock.”

He gritted his teeth and kept his head lowered, hand hovering over the control for the shield. He had no idea what would happen if he engaged it this far down, and he didn’t really want to find out, but soon the tremor passed, little fountains of dust falling onto his head. Up ahead the fluffy Celzex was no longer so colorful, matted with dust and gravel.

“Are you ok Admiral.”

“Alright.” he grunted. “A little bit shaken up is all.” He began crawling his way forward again.

Based on our sonar readings, you are getting close. The rock is much less stable down here, so you are more likely to run into cave ins.

He followed as instructed, moving forward and examining the rock below his hands.

As they said would happen they found a caved in part of the tunnel just up ahead.

“You’re going to have to use that laser to dig around one side and create a new tunnel, you will want to avoid the weakened areas of ceiling, so move back a few feet and go through the right hand side”

Before him, the little Celzex move into position ready to fire the weapon, now turned mining equipment.

The laser was bright red and almost blinding in the darkness, and he only had his gloved hands to scoop away discarded rubble, which he gently pushed up the tunnel praying nothing would be distrubed.

It took them a good hour to work through the new tunnel despite the laser, and when they did he was surprised to see an open tunnel glowing with a strange bioluminescent film.

“Something has been living down here.” he muttered kind of glad he was wearing gloves as he crawled into the tunnel.

Getting close Admiral.

***

Ket lay in the rubble ready to die, he knew it was coming, new his life would soon be at an end. Oh how sad it was that it should be so early. Stuck underground in the darkness for the past who knows how long…. Probably no more than a year or so.

Either way he was going to die here, and no one would come to help him. Bran weren’t brave, they didn’t come to your aid.

Bran were cowards at heart and he knew that most of all.

No one was coming for him.

Of course that is when he heard the strange scraping up the tunnel.

He sat up lifting his head and staring into the darkness. WHat could that be!

He was the only one here and had been the only ne here for as long as he could remember. Was he going mad, Where were those sounds coming from!

He pressed back into the wall.

Maybe that hadn’t been an earthquake, maybe there was some sort of giant worm crawling through the depths of this planet finally coming to eat him. Oh the depravity! Couldn’t he just be left in peace!

The scraping sounds grew louder and louder and louder, and he watched in shocked terror as a shadow jolted forward in one of the upper bends.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere for him to go, and even as he thought that the tunnel began to shake again. He held on for dear life, eyes closed praying that death would take him quickly, for he did not want to know what was around that corner. The shaking soon stopped and the figure started moving again.

Ket watched, in mesmerized horror as the thing poked its head around the corner.

Bulbous head, bony shoulders, long spindly arms and bony digits.

Ket began to scream, scream and scream as loud as he could as the creature born of his nightmares scuttled out of the darkness and came crawling towards him. It made some of its same guttural gurgling noises, the ones that had haunted his dreams, and he pressed himself back into the wall screaming and screaming and screaming.

It had come for him at last to devour his heart.

It reached out and grabbed him by the snout, cutting off his scream.

The ground around them began to rumble as the creature gripped him with iron hands, the pale white of its eyes glistening wetly through its dust smeared face.

“Shut UP, shut up shut up, do you want this whole damn thing to come down on us.”

He certainly had not expected to hear his own language, and his attempted screams cut off in a confused gurgle. The rumbling died down a little.

The creature made a gesture with one hand, “Ground team this is Admiral Vir, I have the last survivor and am bringing him up now.”

What…. Wha?

What was going on.

The creature's white teeth glittered in the illumination of his tunnel just as wet and gaping as before.

He was so scared he could hardly move, but shocked as well as the creature from his nightmares pulled him forward and hooked a harness around Ket’s body clipping it to a loop on a harness that encircled the creature's back legs.

“Now do what I do, and you might just live.” The creature hissed at him, still, disconcerting in his own language.

In a daze, Ket followed after as his nightmare dragged him from the collapsing tunnels. Trickling runnel of dust poured down around them from cracks in the ceiling above. It was made pretty clear early on that this creature had not ever been meant for the caves, despite Ket’s memory of one of it’s kind chasing after him through the underground. It was too large, meant to walk upright on thick sturdy legs, but till it climbed with the ease of any Bran.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.

Memories from that night not so long ago, or it seemed to him, kept racing through his mind. Flashes of glowing green eyes and flashing white teeth champing at his heels. The sound of its revving hunting cry as it raced through the darkness. But now he was being towed along behind it as the tunnels rocked around him.

“Shit shit shit shit.” Came the muttering up ahead, and he looked to see that there was another creature riding on the thing’s back. It stared at him with very wide white eyes.

“Lord Avex?”

“Yes?” The creature responded, sounding much less concerned than the predator.

“What happens if you die here?” it was a very blunt and morbid question, but the creature didn’t seem to mind.

“I will be honored for centuries having died in a heroic manner.”

The predator made an incomprehensible grunting noise.

“Admiral, the cave system has been compromised and the tunnels are collapsing. Get out as fast as you can, I repeat as fast as you can, if there is a cave in you will want to be closer to the surface because we might be able to reach you.

They were talking like they expected a collapse, which wasn’t really all that comforting.

The predator went very quiet, but sped up to the point Ket was being dragged along behind.

All around them the tunnels were shaking.

Dust filled the air clogging their vision as the beam of light fractured off dust motes.

They passed a point he had not gone further than in five years, and the predator scrambled up the vertical climb as easily as a Bran would, he scrambled on hands and knees dragging the two of them along. He was almost able to walk in a crouch now, but the tunnels were beginning to cave in around them, rocks falling from the roof and smashing against the ground. The Preditor ducked and pulled to the side grabbing ket around the middle and the strange fluffy creature in the other hand. The tunnel was wide enough for him torun now.

Ket could do nothing but watch.

The predator probably could have escaped if it dropped him, but it refused to do so, adjusting him even as it ran so it could keep better hold, clutching KEt to it’s chest. Its breathing was ragged, labored and panicked, but still it refused to let him go.

He thought he could see light.

And then.

“Its coming down!”

The predator pulled to a stop and threw himself to the ground.

The cave rumbled and roared as rocks egan to fall around them. Ket looked up only to see the underside of the human’s chest and belly as he hugged the two smaller aliens in the leah of his body against the falling stone. He heard the cave ceiling fracture and then felt a pulse of energy around them.

The Last thing he heard was a scream and then a crushing weight.

***

Ket woke unable to breathe, or barely able to breathe, all around them there was a dim glowing of a blue purple nexus, and as he looked he watched the nexus quiver under the strain.

Overhead the predator was curled in around them in a tight ball pressed up against Ket and the strange fluffy creature who was blinking confusedly in the dark.

The predator wheezed as the nexus flickered, holding the two aliens' protection to his chest, pressing his back against the nexus.

“Admiral, are you alright?” The fuzzball asked

“How long will the shield hold?”

“It depends on how many tons of rock we are trapped under.” The Celxex said mildly.

Ket was surprised they were alive at all, based on their original depth he would have said a couple thousands tons for sure.

They were dead.

He glanced up at the predator, nothing more than a dust painted face and two glowing whtie orbs in the dark. This predator had died trying to save him, was dying trying to save him.

It seemed odd that his life was going to end like this.

He looked up at the human and in that moment, in the glowing of the nexus lights he saw the green of its one working eye.

He would have known that color anywhere.

“You!”

The predator looked down at him in confusion.

What? “You…. You’re… that thing!”

“Did a rock hit this one in the head or something.” The one called Lord Avex asked.

But the predator eyed him ,sudden recognition crossing his face, “Ket?”

The creature made that same strange revving noise that made ket pull back in shock.

“Sorry, Sorry, I am just a bit surprised to see you here, I tried to find you to apologize but…. You had already vanished by then.”

“Apologize?” He was so confused

“Yes, I was a bit enthusiastic upon our first meeting. They say I scared you half to death. I promise it was an accident. I never meant it that way, I just get a bit out of hand when I am excited.”

This was news to Ket

He wasn’t entirely sure how to take it.

“Ok ok you two kiss and make up already.” Lord Avex jumped in

The predator grunted, “At least when I die I will have that off my conscience.”

The Nexus flickered and shrunk.

They folded forward on themselves just slightly. Pressed uncomfortably close.

Wheezing fill the hot and muggy confines of their bubble.

The were going to die son.

The nexus continued to grow smaller and smaller until they were curled into a ball with the predator around them, pressed to the point of not being able to breathe. He felt the human’s belly rise and fall with his labored breathing.

They were about to die

And then, The nexus expanded slightly.

The human relaxed, and as minutes wore on the nexus continued to grow until with an eruption it burst up through the rock and dark night sky appeared above them.

The nexus flickered and then died, leaving them all lying on the stone gasping and covered in dust.

Paramedics ran forward to where tey lay with shocked yelles describing how they were still alive.

Ket stared at the human as he was attended to by aliens and others of his kind.

No one seemed to find it odd.

It became clear to Ket in the next few minutes that he had missed a lot.

Bu he hadn’t missed, his once nightmare, becoming his now savior.

236 notes · View notes