#its like clinging to an old voicemail

[thatstroubling]

(not) moving on

based on a post-game idea: how strange would it be for the survivors of V3 to live in a world where their friends' entire in-game lives had been perfectly captured and preserved forever, always avaliable for endless rewatching? and more importantly, would the guilt of having to type 'danganronpa V3 best moments' into the google search bar be worth getting to hear their friends' voices again? on bad nights, the answer would probably be yes

[delphi-shield]

contact high // leon s. kennedy

Leon x Reader Pointless Fluff wc: ~1.5k this fic was just an excuse to practice dialogue. [insert kermit 'its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner' meme here] i think getting obliterated and falling asleep on leon could fix me.

summary: You're gone. No text, no voicemail - disappeared off the face of the earth. or Leon forgets you're at a party and finally has an excuse to practice those breathing exercises his therapist recommended.

content: drugs, leon's POV, gender neutral reader. intended as post-vendetta, pre-death island leon. bro's in therapy and he hates that it's working.

The door's unlocked.

Leon's brow furrows. He stands in the doorway a moment, turning the key again just to be sure he's not falling asleep on his feet. No such luck.

He steps into the apartment and calls your name, a hint of scolding sharpening the edges. How many times has he got to remind you? "Babe, you can't leave the door unlocked. Seriously, I could be anyone."

His own voice mocks him, bouncing back off the empty halls of the apartment. He pauses, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listens for the telltale sound of your presence - your voice drifting from the back room, loud and raucous laughter on a call with your friends, the drone of your latest period drama on TV - anything.

Worry overpowers exhaustion. He doesn't think to check his phone, gets right to snooping instead. Minds like his jump to the worst case scenario first, first responder born and bred.

Start from the top. Leon lets the evidence guide him around the room. Your shoes are in disarray by the shoe rack - not as if they had been disturbed in an altercation, but in your usual, messy way. Indecision, not foul play. The blanket on the back of the couch is wadded up and left in a heap on your side. A half-empty water glass drowns in its condensation, leaves a ring that won't come out later. You’d been in a hurry, but was it forced or absent-minded?

Leon’s hand curls over his sidearm. He's not taking any chances. He's already blown his cover by calling out. Stupid, he thinks. Getting slow in his old age. He spins into the kitchen, checking corners before he checks countertops.

Your keys lay in a heap on top of the mail.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Not yet, anyway. He scans the rest of the room, looking for other traces of you. Your bag, your phone, anything. Dinner hasn't been left out. The dishes have been put up. There's no sign of a struggle anywhere. It's entirely possible you just stepped out. But at this time of night? It’s almost two in the morning. No - it must have been someone that you had trusted. He flips through every friend you’ve ever introduced him to. Every ex, every bad date –

His therapist's voice nags at the back of his mind, babbling about jumping to conclusions, about assuming the worst case scenario and turning every uncomfortable moment into an operation, clinging to control through procedure, through swift, decisive action.

Deep breath. Look for alternative, easier answers. Not everything is life or death. Taking a hammer to every problem will only break things.

He fishes his personal phone out from his jacket, flips through messages. No new texts or missed calls from you. Not encouraging. Breathe in for four, hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Can’t believe these stupid breathing exercises work.

He should just call you. What the hell is he thinking? If he calls and you don't answer, then he can give himself permission to panic.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. By the third time, he's already pacing back to the front door, ready to take his investigation from top to bottom again. He’s already crouched by the shoe rack, searching for anything he could have missed, when you answer.

"Hey!" Thank fucking god. It sounds like you're in the middle of a warzone, but at least you picked up. 

Not a warzone, he reminds himself. That’s laughter, not the wail of the dead and dying. He tries to speak past the lump in his throat, but the words get stuck. Breathe, he reminds himself. He tries again.

“Hey.”

The noise of the crowd dims, the latch of a door shut a little too hard - where the hell are you? 

"What's up? How was work?"

Are you serious? It’s nearly two in the morning and all you can say for yourself is how was work?

"Fine," he says, trying his best not to be curt. He presses his fingers to his temples, massages the headache away. "Where are you?"

"Jen's birthday."

Shit. That was right. You had that party. Leon marches back into the kitchen, stares at the whiteboard you had plastered to the fridge. You insisted on writing your schedule out for him. He'd thought it was stupid, at the time. He didn't need help remembering.

There it is. Your spidery handwriting haphazardly circled, confetti and noisemakers poorly drawn around it - B-DAY PARTY, 8PM

He drops his head against the fridge door, tries not to sigh into the phone.

“We talked about it last week.”

“I know.”

"I left you a note."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, baby. I would have invited you but there's, like, so much weed here," you laugh. It lights his chest up with warmth - or maybe that’s relief. “In good conscience, I couldn’t invite a fed.”

In good conscience, you say. He snorts, bonks his head against the fridge again. Yeah. You’re high, all right.

“You forgot your keys.” “Fuck!” You’re pouting. He can hear it over the phone. “Sorry. Can you leave the door unlocked for me? I’ll get an Uber. Party’s kinda over anyway.”

Like hell you will. He doesn’t trust those things. A cute little thing like you, getting into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night, high off your ass?

“No, no.” He slips his shoes back on, fishes his keys from his pocket. “Send me the address. I’ll come get you.”

It’s the same roulette wheel of questions you ask him every time he offers to do something for you. Are you sure? Yes, of course he is. I don’t want to bother you. He was literally made to be bothered by you, that’s what he signed up for. Can we watch a movie? Sure, why not. He’ll probably fall asleep, but he knows you’ll beat him to it. Probably won’t even make it past the first scene.

You’re waiting for him on the curb, hands tucked into your armpits to keep warm. Your face splits into a grin when he pulls up to you. There’s that damn warmth again, spreading down his limbs. He leans over to pop the door for you. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, got him worried for a moment that you might have the spins, but you plop into the seat and kiss him in lieu of hello, and his worries evaporate.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs against your lips. Before you can give him your smug little reply, he straightens up, puts the car in gear. “You’re gonna give me a contact high. Gonna fail my drug test. Lose my job.” “Yeah, right. You could be on, like, mega-coke and they’d keep you around.”

“Mega-coke, huh? That the big new thing with kids?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

You babble at him the whole ride home, catching him up on the latest drama, pausing for him to interject with no, she didn’t and what a bitch at the appropriate moments. He has to fend off your encroaching hands at stop lights, knowing damn well you want more than just to rest your hand on his thigh. You laugh every time he moves your hand back to your side, your nose scrunching and the corner of your eyes creasing, and he knows there’s no staying mad at a face he’s mapped out countless times before bed, whether he was right next to you or half a world away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, your head has knocked against the car window, your babbling slowed. He nudges you gently, big palm splayed against the point of your shoulder.

“Want me to carry you in?” He asks, his voice low. He meant it to sound teasing, but his heart’s not in it.

You stir, fumbling with your seatbelt. “Neighbor’s are gonna see.”

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He reaches across the console and unbuckles your seatbelt for you. You pop the door open and stumble out on your own two feet before he can round the car. He settles for looping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

He guides you inside, makes a teasing joke about locking the door – now, this is called a ‘lock’, you put your key in and turn it so no one can get in. That way your stuff doesn’t get stolen and your boyfriend doesn’t freak out - just to hear you grouse at him and smack his shoulder.

After making a show of locking the door, he drops you off on the couch. He presses a kiss to your hair and trots off to get you a glass of water. He can’t have been gone more than a handful of minutes, but when he returns, you’re crashed out against the arm of the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Didn’t even make it to the movie,” Leon muses. He pulls you to lean against his chest and unfurls the wadded up blanket, draping it over the both of you.

The arm of the couch jams into his back at an awkward angle. He tries to shift down, but you whine and cling to him tighter. It feels like kicking a puppy. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, but he lets you rest. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

[caxde]

tangerine | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you are a teacher on Hawkins High, all of your friends have moved on and found succes, however, Eddie has had the best luck, achiving the tittle of Rockstar, and missing you more than he's aware of. (8.2k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends! in love, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn exes-ish to firends to lovers, idiots in love!!!, eventual smut so minor dni (fingering, p in v), english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

“G’ mornin Ozz” You mutter as the big brown mutt starts to lick your face, while his tail moves from side to side. He sets its two paws on top of your bed and you lie down quickly enough so his body touches yours instead of the mattress. “M’kay, gimme a minute.” You groan as you slowly sit up, scratching the sleep away from your eyes. As you begin to stretch your body and hear it all pop, you can see as your little companion does the same, asking for pets after he is done. You smile at him as you pet his head absentmindedly. 

You dress yourself lazily, a pair of washed up light blue jeans that have some paint stain on them and an old distressed shirt covered by one of those old jumpers that you seem to have had since forever. 

Ozz looked at you excitedly, sitting down next to the door, waiting for you to go on your morning walk, and enjoy the time that working takes away from him. 

It felt funny, walking these streets again, unbothered now, without having to worry or panic about anything. A quiet life, a still life, one that lets you sleep peacefully at night. The only thing that worried you lately was whether you preferred your senior class to read Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice or something more recent, perhaps The Never Ending Story. You debated on it while Ozz kept you company in the early morning, the cold clinging to your face, waking you up at once. 

All of your friends were doing absurdly well. 

You can’t help but think as you head back home and get ready to head to your job.

 Nancy still sends you emails for you to read, filled with her beautiful writing detailing how crazy being a Pulitzer winning journalist is, you smile and treasure them dearly. Robin usually sends you her manuscripts before anyone else, and has begged you to illustrate her new one, and your sketchbook was filled with ideas that you needed to get back to her. Steve finally had decided to study history, and was now teaching it at The Chicago University, everytime he comes back to Hawkins he calls you up so you can chat and grab a beer. 

 But Eddie, he was the luckiest one. And you cried often when you heard that he achieved another milestone, and would try to contact him, not really being able to, usually leaving each other long voicemails. 

However, you kept a picture of the two of you on your desk, the one you took before he disappeared, before everything happened to him and you were able to call him yours. 

Anyhow, you need to focus on what you were doing, having arrived at the doors of your classroom now. 

-

In what felt like a thousand miles away, Eddie layed covered in sweat and buzzing with post-show energy, his ears ringing from the amount of cheers and screams he just got away from. His legs still shaking, not believing that this was now his life, and eager to be able to share it with everyone he cared about. 

And even if he didn’t speak it aloud, you were on the top of that list. 

“I counted fifteen.” Gareth said as he reached him, running out of breath. He looked at him confused, and tried his hardest to put his hair away, trying to cool down. 

“What?” He said, his eyes squinting at him. 

“Bras. They were throwing bras, Eddie!” He laughed as he saw how the eyes of his friend opened as he emphasized with big hand movements. 

“You are a bigger dork now than in highschool.” He teased as he punched him in his arm. 

“Good gig, yeah?” Jeff smiled as he joined them backstage. Eddie clapped him on the back, still processing the fact that they had just played in the actual Merriweather Post Pavilion, they had actually standed where Led Zeppelin had once been, and he smiled quietly to himself, eager to pick up the phone and tell you all about it. He was in Columbia, and had hopes to actually find you awake for once. 

“We’re a long way from The Hideout.” Ben comes out, hanging Eddie a cigarette as he searches for a lighter that he provides back. 

“Fuck yeah we are” Gareth screams excitedly, and they can’t help but to smile and celebrate as they start getting comfortable. 

They know about Eddie’s ritual of leaving you a voicemail after every gig. And they politely leave the room so he can have space to actually call you. 

He fidgets with his rings as he starts hearing the phone beeping, eager to hear your pre-recorded message. But for once, he is surprised by your half asleep voice. 

“Hello?...” Your voice sounds as if you’d have been dozing off, cracking at the lack of interaction. 

“Oh my god you’re actually awake.” He says surprised with a big smile that you can imagine as soon as you realize who it is. 

“Edds?” He melts a bit as your voice softens. 

“Hi darling.” 

“Hi.” His face illuminated as his cheeks started to burn. He has missed your voice, he has even missed being able to hear your silences. “Where are you?” 

“Columbia.” He whispers, as his voice relaxes, feeling how his whole body is met with the familiarity that you provide. 

“You’re close.” He can tell that you’re still on your bed. 

“Yeah, did I wake you up?” He sounds worried for once, and he hears your soft giggle that turns into a sleepless moan. His heart skips a beat. 

“Not really. Was half asleep, Ozz just got off the bed.” 

“He’s keeping you company?” 

“Mmh.” A short moment of silence that let him stare at the ceiling, his head resting on the back of his chair. “He misses you.” 

“He does?” He teases, and you laugh softly at the question. 

“Yeah. Of course he does.” You can hear him laugh now, the question in his mind is evident enough that he doesn’t even need to ask it before you answer. “I miss you too dickhead.” His smile is bigger than before as that makes you both laugh.

“Do too.” 

“Of course you do, I’m the life of the party. You must be bored without me, you know, you just have all the parties, and concerts, and interviews and meeting everyone you’ve wanted.” He laughs as you continue to give him ridiculous examples. 

“It’s true, y’know. I kinnda miss doing a small show like, back in The Hideout.” He confesses and you chuckle a bit. 

“Then just do it, Edds. Y’know, it’s your band, you can choose, right?” He shuts up, knowing that you are incredibly right, and then again, he would have to talk with so many people to even make that a possibility. But he doesn’t want to waste time complaining, he just wants to hear your voice, even better, he didn’t know how much he needed your laugh until he heard it again. 

“I might. You’d come?” 

“Of course, just like I used to.” You both smile at the memory, feeling nostalgic for the times you were only a short car ride away from each other. “Front row and center.” 

“Oh darling, you’d be backstage and close by.” He waits a moment as he can feel you getting comfortable, the rustling of your bedsheets confirming that you’re falling asleep. “Do you wanna hang up?” 

“No, I like the idea of falling asleep with you.” You confess half asleep. His cheeks burn as his smile grows wider. 

-

It was always funny when this happened. And you were now developing a new sense for when it was about to. They would see the photo, turn away from your desk to meet with their friends and then they would start whispering with each other while looking at you every once in a while. At this point you just had to laugh. 

And it always ends the same way. They wait until the end of the class, cleaning up or pretending to do so, and then approach you slowly. So when you clocked two of your senior students whispering amongst them you smiled softly. And waited patiently for the questions. 

“Miss?” You heard as you were pulled away from your own world. 

“Hi Taylor, what can I do for you?” You asked with your usual up-tone voice. 

“Um, this is gonna be a weird ask but…” She started to avoid your eyes, as she searched for her friend to continue. 

“We um, we noticed the photo on your desk, and well we just…” You laughed, a soft calm noise that made her shoulders drop. Tension being released. 

“Yeah, that’s Munson.” You smile. Their eyes open once it hits them that they were right. “He used to go here, y’know?” They nod softly, and look at each other for reassurance. 

“Is it true, what they say?” Taylor asks once again and your eyebrow raises at the question, unknown of what she was referencing. 

“What do they say?” 

“That they’ll play in The Hideout?” 

“Oh.” Your cheeks seem to betray you as they grow pink. You nod at the girls as you stand up from the chair. You circle the table to face them again, reclining yourself on it. “Yeah, well, they used to, I dunno if they’ll play here anytime soon, might have to call Eds and ask.” Their smiles soften as they can see how your eyes brighten at the mention of Eddie.

“Really? You’d call him?” A squeak emanated from an excited Taylor, and you laughed with them as your head looked at the ground. 

“Yeah, he calls me everytime he finishes a gig.” You smile big as you look back at them. “You enjoy his music?” 

“Oh yeah, we love Corroded Coffin, but they always do shows so far away…” Taylor whispers in a soft voice. You can’t wait to tell him about it and embarrass him. 

“Maybe they’ll come around. Who knows.” You smile as you clap your hands. “Now if you excuse me ladies, I need to get some things done and you need to go to maths so…” 

They excuse themselves as they giggle to each other, exiting the room you smile quietly to yourself. If only you had told them about Ozz, they might have fainted, you think to yourself.

-

Hot tea mug by your side, you were determined to tackle the test from this week, actually getting through them and actually correct them. In time, for once. 

But the desk still felt messy, and you needed to clean it all again so you could actually get work done, so you spent the next thirty minutes throwing away a couple of empty chocolate bar wrappers, and some other bits and little trash away, dreading the end of this, as it meant you had no excuse but to actually get it all done. 

However, as you moved your chair so you could sit down, you were blessed with the ringing of your living room phone. thank god, you said to yourself. The caller ID had Eddie’s number, so you picked it up with a smile on your face. 

“Hey Edds” Your cheerful voice seemed to sing his name.

“Actually, it’s Gareth.” The boy's voice surprised you, as you were confused for a bit. 

“Oh. Hey Gareth, what’s up?” 

“Don’t need to sound that disappointed,”His voice teased as it dropped a little bit. “Eddie’s recording so he couldn’t call you.” 

“Oh, okay, well, tell him hello anyway.” 

“Yeah I will.” You nod at that. A second of weird silence between the both of you. 

“So, how come you called?” You decide to go ahead and ask, you had never been fond of small talk anyway. 

“Oh yeah, right.” You heard his lips press against each other as he paused. “So, we’re coming back to The Hideout. In a week, we announced last night, anyway, Eddie wanted to know if we could crash at your house, y’know, my folks sold the house and Wayne’s trailer isn’t that big anyway.” He reasoned with you, trying to convince you, even if he knew you’d say yes regardless. 

“Of course, just call me when you know you’ll come and I’ll fix you up some space.”

“Sweet, great. I’ll tell Eddie to call you regardless.”

You see how Ozz stands up all of a sudden, his head tilted and ears raised, whining as he looks at the door, he sounds as if he is crying with excitement, so your eyes are locked on him as he eyes you fastly, asking for your help. 

“Yeah, see you soon Gareth.” 

“Yeah, bye.” He mumbles as you hear the line go dead. 

“What’s up Ozz?” You ask him, as his head dips down, looking back at the door, tapping it with its paw. 

You move closer to him, and his head shakes in anticipation, as his paws tip-taps the floor excitedly as your hand gets closer to the handel, he practically leaps through the door as soon as you open it, and as your eyes follow him, a grin on your face as you see his tail wagging crazily, as you follow his direction you see him, and your heart drops for a second too long. 

Guitar on his shoulder, and large bag on his side, he stood there. Hair as long and frizzy as ever, and the same smile that he always saved for you, Eddie was there, eyes as bright as you remember, looking up at you before dipping down and focusing his attention on the dog. 

“Hi Ozzy!” His voice higher than usual, sitting down on the floor as the dog licks his face away as he giggles petting him ferociously, letting him get on top of him as he resigns and lets the dog love him back. 

“Eddie.” You whisper, still trying to process it all. Your hands covering your surprised opened mouth as your feet move you down the steps that leave your house.

“Hey sweetheart.” His eyes illuminate as he looks up at you, a sincere smile curing his lips. 

“Gareth said-” Your words had trouble coming out, still finding it hard to believe that he was indeed there, and that you weren’t dreaming. 

“I know. I uh… Told him to call you so I’d know if you were home… wanted to surprise you.” He explains, as he stands up, clapping his hands clean as he takes a step towards you, Ozz coming back to you, his tail still wagging. 

“How did you- Why- I don’t…” 

“I missed you.” He gleams as his words come out of his mouth. “Just that.” He finishes, standing in front of you, close enough that your feet would touch if you took a step further. “Well, and Ozzy.” he added, tilting his head slightly as his smile brightened. 

“I still think Bowie suits him best.” 

“You didn’t like Mr.Crowley.” He reminds you as he points his finger, the tip of it touching the corner of your mouth. 

“It felt like he had to be the teacher.” You laugh as your head looks at the ground, nervous from his touch, your heart stops for a moment when you hear his voice chuckling. 

“Well, glad you took care of my dog.”

“Mmmh, mine now.” 

He smiles fondly at you, before closing the distance and hugging you closely. Your bodies finally met, your arms tangled behind his neck, his hands hanging behind your waist, his arms pulling you closer. An unconscious smile appears on your lips as you smell him again, his hair tickling your nose, sandalwood, cigarette smoke and something you can’t quite tell. His thumb stroking the small part of your skin that gets exposed when your arms rise up to hold him. He leaves a small kiss on the crown of your head, resting his head there for a second too long. 

-

“Edds, I’m leaving!” You screamed as you grabbed your old jacket from the hanger by the door. 

“M’kay.” He yawned as he peered down the staircase, sleep still present in his eyes. 

“Guest mattress comfy?” You tease him lightly as you can see his eyes hiding behind his palms, his hair twisted and knotted from having just woken up. You didn’t dare look down, his chest is exposed, his legs covered by old gym wear that he had packed. 

“M’no” He mumbled as his eyes finally opened enough to look at you, his voice cracking as he spoke his first words of the day, deep and short, not having any energy to do or say anything else. 

“Oh, poor Edds.” you teased him a bit more, showing him your tongue as you handed him a mug full of coffee. “There’s more on the pot.” 

“Thanks.” He whispered before taking a sip, head shaking as he tried to wake up. 

“Ozz will beg you to walk him, his leash is hanging by the coats.” 

“Got it.” He nodded at the brown dog, his tail already wagging. “When’re you coming back?” 

“Uh… Should be here around five, why?” 

“Dunno, might go and say hi to Wayne.” You nodded, feeling a bit dumb to not have thought that maybe he preferred to be with his actual family, rather than with you. His eyes opened as he seemed to clock that thought passing behind your eyes. “I mean, he did pick me up from the airport yesterday, and everything but… Dunno, wanted to stay with you.” He quickly reassured you, a lazy smile on his face made you release the air that you had been holding. 

He walked with you to the front door, closing it behind you after he had whispered a sleepy goodbye to you. 

He spent the majority of his morning doing absolutely nothing. Letting himself enjoy the non-rush he now had. The small holiday he had given to himself. Of course, he couldn’t help himself from looking around, but really, it’s not his fault. He always had that habit of looking at other people's things. He liked to imagine what you looked like while you were correcting or grading papers, and he giggled when he saw your little tower of -according to the post-it - mandatory read i don’t enjoy, though his smile deepened when he saw the one next to it books i’ll make mandatory even if it ends me. Suddenly, he was back in high school, and you were sat on his lunch table, as his party babbled away about the campaign, while you laid your head on his shoulder, your eyes focused deep with the words of Jane Austen, Sylvia Plath, Isabell Allende it didn’t matter, he always remembered you like that, curled up with a book between your hands. 

He always liked when you had let him lay on your thighs, and hearing you read outloud, while one of your fingers traced around his face, not really thinking about it. 

He missed stupid small moments like that. 

But then again, nothing had made his heart skip a beat as fast as when he saw the copy he had let you borrow of The Hobbit, on that tower, the pages were now a different shade, and they still had all of his notes he had written on the pages margins. 

He thought about you, and those silly intimate moments while he played on his guitar later that morning. Ozzy curled up beside him, while he tried to remember the melody of that Led Zeppelin’s song you had always loved. Especially when he sang it to you, he seemed to recall. 

But as these moments of calmness or rather, stillness go, it was interrupted, by your phone this time. 

Eddie debated on whether or not to pick it up, but he decided he might as well. 

“Um, hello?” 

“Eddie? Thank god, can you check something for me?” Your voice came through the speaker, agitated and ever so slightly out of breath. 

“Uh, yeah sure. You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah fine. Can you just look if I left my wallet and a little container on the kitchen counter?” You begged, as you rushed through your words. 

“Yeah hold on.” You could hear his steps as he went to check it. When he saw the two objects you described he grabbed them and slowly walked over to the phone, resting his weight against the wall, lazily. 

“Yeah, they’re here.” 

“Fuu-dge.” You caught yourself before cursing, which only made him laugh. 

“Fudge?” 

“I can’t curse while I’m working.” You remind him, sounding frustrated now. 

“Oh, right. Forgot.” 

“Well, okay. I’ll just eat when I get home then.” You muttered as you exhaled air, your words reaching his ears a little muffled because of that. 

“Can’t they give you a plate or something?” He tried to reason with you, realizing that the container held your lunch. 

“Nah, that will only give Lora a headache.” You scoffed.

“Well, I could-” 

“Forget it Edds, I’ll see you in a few hours, I need to go.” You hanged up, and an idea popped into his head, as a smile appeared on his lips. 

-

It had been a brief walk, thirty minutes flew by as he walked by the streets he used to dream about escaping, smiling proudly at the fact that he did. Though now, standing behind the green door that led to your classroom, he had become that shy Eddie that he was when he studied in those halls. 

And he had become enamored by how you stood, smiling as you spoke through your lesson. 

However, you hadn’t seen him, and where still yapping about the assignment, having divided your senior group into small teams so they could start working, when all of a sudden, you saw how their eyes shifted away from you, straight to the door, usually you would dismiss that, knowing that with five minutes left for lunch break, they usually daydreamed about what they would eat, or what they would do, but normally, they look at the window to do that, but what really made your head look into that direction was the gasps that were emanating from your students, and the excited looks they were sharing. Once you looked over, and saw a smiling Eddie holding the plastic bag high, your eyes opened in shock, as you had definitely lost your train of thought. 

“I… I’m sorry class… Can you give me a minute?” You said through your teeth, your eyes squinting as you tried not to lose your cool, knowing that if Principal Higgins saw him there you would never hear the last of it. So you walked -almost ran- to the door, closing it fast behind you. “Edds… What are you doing here?” 

“I brought you your lunch!” He exclaimed happily, his eyes looking down at you, as his lips curved upwards, the plastic bag swinging from his hand. 

“And that’s really sweet but you shouldn’t have.” 

“Well, when you don’t eat you get dizzy, and then you get nauseous, and finally, you’re… bitchy… So, take your lunch and eat.” He explains to you, as he points every reason with his fingers, tapping them on your chest. 

“Idiot.” You muttered as you flushed, enough for him to notice, even when you try to look at the ground in an attempt to hide it. 

“Yeah, well, you call me that a lot.” He chuckled as he finished. “Besides, you’ve only got five minutes left.”

“Three now.” 

“Yeah, so I can wait for you and keep you company.” He wasn’t teasing, you could tell he was being sincere. 

“Shit, look-”

“Language.” Now he was teasing, a smile appearing in both of your faces. 

“Fuck off…” You giggled as you looked at the ground for a bit, messing with your hair as you looked back at him. “‘Kay, come in, but… They’ll have- they’re gonna freak out.” 

You were right, as soon as he set foot into your classroom a choir of excited squeals and “oh my god” could be heard, and you tried not to laugh, but it was bound to happen. He was as recognizable as ever, even with his hair tied up in a lazy pointali that was now coming undone, and a light faded out shirt, his tattoos and posture betrayed him. 

“Uh, hi.” He muttered as soon as he could, shy once again at the undivided attention that he had gathered.

“So, class… Can we keep this a secret?” You tried to bargain, as they tried hard not to lose it, the majority of them covering their mouths or rubbing their eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You could hear one of your older students say as he couldn’t stay still on his chair. 

“I think she doesn’t like that kind of language in the class… um…” 

“Trevor!” 

“Trevor, yeah, I’m Eddie.” He said cheerfully, as they all nodded, your face hidden behind your hand, forehead resting on the palm of it. You hided a giggle while he sat down on your chair. 

-

“You’re an idiot.” You said as you were finally alone in your classroom. Sitting down, faceing him, his mouth half open as he was starting to eat a sandwich he had made for him. 

“Yeah, you call me that a lot.” He agreed, playing with the teasing that you had started, even if he knew, deep down, that you were glad he did that, the colours on your cheek betraying you once again. 

“Well… You are.” You smile down, as you reach into your bag. A little container with Joyce’s leftovers in it, and your stomach grumbled as you saw them. “Thank you.” You whispered, a shy look in your eyes as they made brief contact with him. He nodded as he took a bite. 

“Don’t mention it.” He would never say it aloud, but he would do anything you’d ask him to. Even if that meant sitting in silence, in an empty classroom that smells of dust and cheap deodorant. He couldn’t help his lips from smiling at you, enjoying the calmness of it all. Seeing you smile at nothing, enjoying the fact that he could see your hair get tangled as your head shakes every time you had a good bite of food on your mouth.  

“Idiot…” You muttered again. 

“You’ve already called me that, sweetheart.” He remarks, winking at you. 

You giggle as you take out your hand from the small bag, the small fruit on your hand, moving it as if it was a trophy you had just won.

“A tangerine?” You teased him, though, truth be told, the tension between the two of you could be felt from across the hall, and it made it all look as if you couldn’t help but smile, and joke and fantasie about what you would like to do to say thank you. 

“Yeah, well… You’ve got a sweet tooth…” He was the one blushing now, having lost himself for a second too long on your lips. His hand touched yours as he grabbed the small fruit from your soft hands, peeling it from you. “You don’t need to stink up your hands.” 

“Oh, I stink?” You joked. 

“Oh yeah, no wonder it has to smell of deodorant in here.” 

You shook your head as you laughed with him, your eyes focusing on his dimples. You really had missed him. 

-

If you were being sincere with yourself, you had expected loud noise, maybe a broken glass or two, however, the stillness and comfort of the moment was a pleasant surprise.

There was nothing special about it, not really. Gareth laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling while he tapped away with his fingers, tum-tuming away at everyhting he came in contact with, legs, floor or table, didn’t matter. Ben had his head resting on it, his back on the leg of the wooden table that you got second hand in a yard sale, his fingers moving as he was playing bass. Jeff sat by himself, on Joyce’s old recliner playing softly on his beat up guitar. However, Eddie was next to you, his arm laid on your shoulders, pulling you closer, making you bury your head on his chest, while he played with your hair, not really thinking about it, he just did it because it felt natural. It felt like what was supposed to be done, it felt like old times, when you would fall asleep next to him and nothing mattered. Though, to be fair, you weren’t exempt from guilt. Your arm was across his chest, hugging him in return, and snuggling him as your head moved closer to him, his chin resting on the top of your head now, your fingers tracing a nonsense pattern across his skin. 

It was bliss. It was peaceful. 

So obviously, someone had to talk. 

“I’m nervous for tomorrow.” Eddie whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair even further. A soft laughter filled the room as everyone heard him. 

“You’ve literally just played Merriweather. You’ve stood where Led stood… The Hideout’s nothing.” You muttered, eyes looking up at him, as he smiled down at you, your cheeks flushing as you made eye contact. 

“Yeah, but we didn’t know anyone…” Gareth said as he stood up.

“And everyone will be there.” Jeff finished, with a giggle from everyone. 

“You’ll be there?” Eddie asked, a soft whisper on you ear, making your skin tingle where his breath graced your skin. 

“Front and center.” You murmured back, your head nodding as you look at him. His eyes lighting up. 

“No, backstage and close by.” He assured you. His lips kissing your forehead, forgetting for a second that you’re not alone. That you’re not together. 

“You know, I like that you two-” Ben started, stopping as soon as he realized that everybody was looking at him, Gareth shaking his head no. “What?” 

“They’re not…” Gareth tried to say, to explain something that neither of you were sure to know how to actually explain. 

“I think it’s time for me to go to bed.” You smile apologetically, as you push Eddie’s arm away from you, standing up, not hearing anything that they were saying any longer.

Logically, you knew you had no right to be upset. Nothing that they had said was a lie, but maybe what hurt more was that everything was true, and rather you like it or not, you were in love once again with him, how could you not. It was inevitable. You had said goodbye when he left, you had stayed in contact, and he appeared out of the blue in front of your house. 

He had taken care of you without you asking him to. He had been there for you countless times. Fuck, he had even let you take care of the dog. 

It all went through your head at speed light, so you paced around your bedroom, walls closing in on you. You were silently crying now, tears falling down. 

“Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop crying.” You kept saying to yourself, in an attempt to calm you down, as you sat down on the mattress. 

The way your house had been constructed, somehow made that the street lights didn’t shine through your window at night, so when you stared at it, only darkness could be seen. That and Eddie standing on your doorway, his head looking at the ground, hand anxiously covering his mouth. As soon as he realised that you caught him he turned around, trying to leave. 

“Don’t…” Your voice broke as you spoke. You turned your head to look at him, hand wiping away a tear. “Stay?” 

“Yeah.” He didn’t hesitate, not even for a second, before you even blinked he was already sitting beside you. “Why are you…?”

“It’s silly.” 

“Don’t think so.” 

“We’ve never talked about it.” You almost spat out the words, as if they were burning. “So we don’t have to now…” You try to soften your tone with a smile, but it doesn’t seem to work. 

“You’re crying.” He stated, his eyebrows raising in concern, as he climbed the bed, carefully approaching you. “So you obviously need to talk about it.” 

“I don’t.” Your voice was getting irritated now, frustrated might be a better way to describe it. 

“Well, then you’re lying.” His voice had become dry, though hesitant or nostalgic seemed like good words to describe it too. 

“Then I guess I’m a liar.” You mocked his tone, getting angry now.

Not really knowing why. 

Not really caring for it. 

He let you in silence, even when you seemed mad at him, he knew what and when you needed what you needed. So he stayed beside you, worried that he had done something so unforgivable that had made you stop trusting him. His leg grew restless, anxiously waiting for you to say something, anything, if he opened his mouth in this instance he’d beg you to do so, he’d crawl and fall to his knees if that meant that you’d say something. 

  And you desperately wanted to. You wanted to tell him everything, you wanted to scream, and shout and tell him that the only thing you want, or need is for him to stay close to you. 

“If you don’t want me here…” He muttered, under his breath. 

You pursed your lips, hurt that he might think something as ridiculous as that. You nodded slowly, turning your head at him, finally looking at his eyes. His were darkened by the lack of light on the room, however his eyes still shone when he made contact with yours, even if your eyes were red and puffy from having cried. 

“It’s not that…” You add as you shake your head from side to side. 

“Then why are you crying?” 

“Because they’re right. Because we’re nothing. Because you and everyone else left, and I stayed here, and… I missed you, every morning I woke up and you weren’t there, I’d roll to the other side of the bed and it would just be empty and cold… I- Eddie…” Your voice kept breaking as you started to talk. 

“You told me to leave…” Faint words escaping him. 

“Of course I told you to leave, you had to leave. You had an amazing opportunity and you needed to take it, I couldn’t be the reason for you- You would’ve resented me for the rest of your life- You…” You were shaking again, everything coming out of you, rapidly. 

“I could never- I would never I… I left, yes, but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring for you or–” His hand grabbed yours, in an attempt to ground you, to stop you from spiriling, and despite your intention, it worked, he had your full attention once again. 

“Or what?” 

“Love you.” He stated. His eyes looking for yours, truth in them. 

“What do you mean Eddie?” You were exhausted now. Confused by his words, and having trouble understanding everything he said. 

“I mean, that even if I left, I never stopped thinking about you, caring for you, or loving you. How could I?” A soft laugh escaped your lips when you registreed what he was actually saying, bitting the inside of your cheek as you looked him back, your fingers intertwined now. 

“You’ve never said anything.” 

“I know…” 

“I thought I was bothering you.” 

“You could never do that. Never.” 

After that, everything happened kind of fast, even if every touch seemed to last a lifetime. His hands searched for your waist, pulling you in, falling on the mattress, both of your bodies laying down as he pulled you near. What started as a close hug, was escalating fast. 

First, his head rested so close on your pillow, that your breath was mixing into his, so much so you could feel him smiling even if you had your eyes closed. Enjoying the way his fingers traced patterns onto your skin, and losing your breath for just a second when his nose kissed yours, when he moved it upwards, you knew that his lips were smiling, slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself. So it was no surprise when you kissed him. 

A shy kiss, a i missed you kiss, a i can’t believe you’re here kiss, a please don’t leave kiss. What was surprising is the way his body pressed onto yours, how his weight shifted so he could be even closer, how his mouth opened to find your tongue, how it felt the exact same it had years ago, and still, your heart was rapidly beating with excitement, of having him like that once again. 

Your thumb had set itself on his jaw, stroking it softly, focused on the small bumps that his skin had, beard growing under it. However, your other hand was pushing his wild hair behind his ear, a softness on your touch that you didn’t quite know you had. 

Meanwhile, Eddie had one of his hands on your waist, your skin exposed since your shirt was stuck under your body, the other one was busily tangled in your hair, on the back of your neck. 

You needed no words, just looking at each other was enough. 

He touched you as soon as your pants hit the floor. Hearing you moan, with your head tilted back, exposing your neck only drove him crazier, making the pressure he felt in his boxers only get worse, in the best way possible. He kissed you everywhere. But he always had a thing for your neck, and how he had always loved to bite it as you where twisting under his touch, your own hand grabbing his, pushing his fingers even deeper into you, making him giggle as he did what you wanted him to do, before shutting you up with another wet neddy kiss. He only stopped kissing you and your body when he wanted to look at your face. Your cheeks, as pink as ever, you’re breathing fast and you’re skin flushed. When you opened your eyes, you nodded, and he did too. 

He took your top away. 

You struggled to take his shirt off, while he unbuckled his jeans. 

To say that his skin was burning to your touch would be an understatement. He groaned and smiled everytime one of your nails ran through his back, you were sure he would have scratches tomorrow morning, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t cared about the hickeys he was leaving on your skin. He kissed it all over again, leaving wet spots over it, and he loved how your body tingles every time his lips touched a new spot. 

Your hand travelled to the hem of his underwear, pushing it down slowly, smiling when you feel him doing the same, his eyes looking at you with permission, his body on top of yours, you smiled kindly, your free hand gracing his cheek, you nodded, as he left a short kiss on your lips, before pushing in to you. As you moaned feeling him in, he was going slow, adjusting your body to him, as your legs wrapped around him, and your hands grabbed his back, you both looked into each others eyes, moonlight shining across your faces, enough light to know that you both were incredibly enamoured by each other. He started going faster, as he started to moan once your nails were once again buried in his skin, his hands touching every inch of your body he could. It is not that it felt good, great or divine, it’s that it felt right, it felt as if he was your home. Like being connected on a physical level only made justice to the way you felt, like you never wanted it to stop, like you could die happily in his arms. Pressed against the mattress, only hearing the noises you were both making, trying to the best of your ability to keep the noise between the two of you, begging not to be heard by anyone downstairs. You knew you were close, and so was him. It was even more evident when he stopped to catch his breath, pulling out of you, and needing his touch you stood up, meeting his face, kissing him senseless, as his fingers got lost on the small of your back, feeling his cock raising even more, your pussy dripping down, aching to be filled with him again. He looked at you once again, his hands now squeezing your ass, you nodded as you turned around. You were now laying your face on the mattress, your tits pressed against it, as you raised your ass as high as you could, and moaning hard and fast as you felt him slip into your pussy with ease. Fingers burning deep into your waist, pushing you hard and fast, a fast rhythm that he kept, and you were moving just as hard. It felt like true bliss. 

When you felt him come, your legs had been shaking for a while already, it was all aching with pleasure, with need. 

However, he didn’t just plummet to the bed, he kissed your back, your shoulder, and everything he felt he could as he pulled you close to him. Cuddling you from behind, your legs tangled as you both felt at ease, at peace. Feeling how tired you were, your eyes shutting down as you can quite believe what had just happened. 

During the night, if and when you woke up, and opened your eyes, you were met with his calm expression next to yours. When you moved away he pulled you in closer, and if you groaned in your sleep he would kiss your skin, wherever his lips could find. It hadn’t been the sex, but this, this made you feel safe and at home. 

-

It looked exactly as you’d remembered. 

Low lights, cigarette smoke, and spilled beer made it seemed as if time had not moved. Even though Eddie seemed to think differently. He was incredibly nervous, fidgeting with his rings behind the stage door, the screams that emanate from the other side making him even more nervous, because if he was honest with himself, he was used to play for an empty Hideout, not a sold out, filled to the brim, people pressed against each other streaming his name. 

He was glad you were there. 

He had even been more happy to wake up beside you. And laugh about last night, and talk it out, while you both got ready. 

As anxious as he was, he only needed to look over at you to calm down.

He did now, and he smiled when he saw you chatting away with Steve, who decided to pop in for the occasion. 

“So… Did a mosquito bite you?” He told you, as he teased pressing a finger to one of Eddie’s hickeys on your chest. 

“Fuck off Harrington.” You laughed back, as you readjusted your top, in an attempt to cover it. 

“I missed you insulting me.” He said, his voice cheerful and playful. Taking a sip from his bottle. “Can’t quite believe that Munson’s made it.” 

“So have you.” You tell him, smiling up at him, as he tries to dismiss you with a vague movement with his head. “Oh come on, prestiged Uni professor Harrington!” You teased him now, punching his arm. 

“You’re embellishing it.” He pointed out, clanking your bottles as he took another sip, one that you followed, laughing with someone you missed so dearly.

“Well, I’m the one teaching the language. So… thank you.” You giggled at him covering his face with his hand, embarrassment and glee on his gesture. 

“Yeah well… He’s really made it though.” He said, shifting his body to look over at him, and you followed him once again. 

“Yeah… He deserves it more than anyone.” You added, making it a bit obvious that your feelings were rising again. Your heart missed a beat when he looked over at you and smiled. 

“And you…” 

“Save it Steve.” You didn’t need to look at him to know the questioning look he had on his face. 

“But you…”

“Yes. I still do.”

“Does he?” 

“I think so.” 

After that you stayed in silence as beers clanged, amps were connected and guitars were tried. Waiting for it all to start. 

But Eddie needs a moment with you. And once again, not a word escapes from his lips, he just walks over to you, black button shirt opened, his chest exposed making you short of breath for a second. His eyes look down for a second, grabbing your hand, looking carefully at the way your hands seem to fit perfectly together, caressing the back of yours with his thumb, he looks back at you, nodding to a place where there’s no one. And when you squint your eyes he starts heading that way. 

Steve’s left speechless as he sees the two of you, and he’s convinced at this moment, he has never seen such pure connection between two people. 

However, Eddie doesn’t speak when it’s only the both of you. He just lets air come out of his mouth, shivering a bit as he does so. Both of his hands grabbing yours, resting his forehead against yours. Enjoying the calmness of the moment. The stillness. The comfortableness of it all. 

You nuzzled your nose against his, feeling how your lips curl upwards as you do so, even more when you hear him laughing softly. He takes a step closer, closing the gap between the both of you with an even softer kiss that he left on your lips. 

“Everything will go great.” Your faint voice made him scoot closer, his ear next to your mouth, instinctively, you wrap your arms behind his neck, he wraps his on the small of your back. 

“Could we just…” You had never heard him with such a soft tone of voice. 

“We can’t. You’ve gotta go play.” You teased as you stepped back, getting lost once again on his chocolate like eyes. 

“I don’t wanna be far away from you again.” He muttered, barely above a whisper. “Will you come with me? Please?” 

“Moon…” You whispered, your thumb gracing his cheek, he let his face rest on the palm of your hand. Head tilted down to look better at you, his eyes lost into yours as he bites his lower lip. He had always loved that ridiculous pet name. “Well talk about it, okay?” You smiled as you left a kiss on his bare chest. “Now, go out there and play.” 

He did just that. Not before stealing a few more kisses, and not before taking you all in. Your teachers clothes had long been forgotten, and you looked truly angelic as you rested against the wall, a somehow sheer top layed on top of your chest, with long worn out jeans that seemed to be a minute away from breaking, with Eddie’s old leather jacket. He couldn’t take his eyes away from you until the roar from the public made him snap into place. 

He looked truly divine. The lights from stage made him glow, his movements seemed effortless, and his voice had never sounded that clear. 

He was following the setlist, everything was going exactly to plan, expect, in one of those pauses in between songs, where he would normally talk to the audience and make them laugh and connect with the band, he was just staring at you, unaware that his hands had started to play the old melody that you had always hummed when you were together. As soon as you heard it, memories, feelings and tears came out. Steve’s hand on your shoulder as he watched closely. 

“He’s mad about you.” He told you, knowing that he won’t get a response, he lets you rest his weight on his body as you cry, excited to hear him sing your song. 

“I um- hi.” He told the audience that cheered in return. “We don’t really play songs that are not ours anymore, but that’s like, all we did when we used to come here and…” A quick glance on your direction before he could continue, as you nodded, excited for him. “Well, there’s this someone, who… She’s incredibly special and this is her favourite one so, you’ll have to hear it. 

Tangerine by Led Zeppelin could be heard, and you had never smiled as big as you were now. 

Whispering the lyrics in between tears as you looked closely at him. He vaguely and not discreetly at all pointed and looked at you as he sang  “Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream/I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between.”

As the final notes could be heard, and in the heat of the moment, Eddie sneaked backstage, to steal a short kiss, both of your lips smiling as you touched. Foreheads pressed against each other as you both had your eyes closed. He didn’t need to say anything else, the question and the answer was already clear. 

That moment was enough. But just in case you kissed him again, your hands grabbing either side of his face, happy tears falling down on both of your eyes. A declaration being shared. 

It said of course I’ll stay. of course I’ll come with you. I’m never leaving again. I’ll never leave you again. 

And you never did. 

-

if you liked it, and i really hope you did, reblog and/or leave your opinion, i swear it makes a differance <33

'

[ashleyh713fanfics]

Dazai X Odasaku's Sister CH15 and CH16

Double Upload:

Chapter 15: "She's Not Like You"

Chapter 16: The Misfortune of Being Dazai's Girlfriend"

Summary: Chuuya has experienced the absolute displeasure of knowing who Dazai is firsthand. He is cruel, and selfish in everything he does with no capacity to care. So the boy is certainly surprised when he meets the demon's sweet and seemingly opposite girlfriend. But is it all a trick, or has the demon finally grown a heart?

Warnings: pm!sixteen year old dazai, pm!sixteen year old chuuya, suicide mentions, slight violence, manipulation on both sides, odasaku death mentions, dazai being a simp and a clingy baby boy, poor chuuya is lost, confused and tormented from all angles for most of this.

(This is chapter fifteen and sixteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. I'll link the master list below so you can get the full story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)

Master List Here

A03 Here

Work Count: 9k total

Chapter 15:

Chuuya was about to lose his mind.

It was a statement the ginger haired boy felt so clearly, his internal thoughts running rampant with a tap of his foot and the loud noisy jumble in the back of his head, stronger by the second. 

The sanity that he had desperately clinging to so desperately slipped away the more he looked at the ticking clock in front of him, mocking his very breath. And with that loss a new stronger emotion took its place. 

Fury, he was absolutely and positively furious. 

Although to be completely fair, this emotion wasn’t new at all. In fact, Chuuya realized that perhaps his past sentence wasn’t completely accurate either, considering he had felt like he had lost his mind years ago. 

He was never this angry before the port mafia. Sure, he had a temper that was established very early on during his time with the sheep but never before had Chuuya felt this sort of raging hatred before. It coursed through his veins by the second, wanting nothing but to scream it into the air. 

And he knew exactly where these emotions started, what sparked them in the first place. 

Just thinking his name brought a sense of enraged fury. 

Dazai Osamu. 

The boy he hated more than anyone else in the entire world, a slimy and manipulative brat that could get under his skin and make him crack over and over again. No, that shitty Dazai never failed to make him stir up the absolute worst parts of him for that fuckers own entertainment. 

And ever since Mori had made them partners, he had never known a day of peace.

 Today as well, it was the same as all the others, the boy crossing his arms with a furious shout as he realized the truth of the situation. Even after he called the idiot and threatened him it seemed that his words did nothing to change the outcome he had been trying to avoid. 

That sorry sack of shit, he ditched again. 

Yeah, you read that right. The mission that Chuuya had specifically told that bastard not to flake on and guess what he did? Absolutely fucking flaked. Their assignment wasn’t even that serious either. 

They had been ordered to attend a meeting with a smaller group that was tied to the port mafia and was stepping out of the line from their usual restrictions. It was going to be an easy job, just a quick threat and yet the bandaged boy couldn’t have the audacity to show his face. 

Which led to where Chuuya was now, his feet kicking a nearby trash can as his gravity ability crushed the metal pieces into nothing in order to hear his phone immediately go to voicemail for the hundredth time. 

That bandaged wearing waste of space, he was going to destroy him the next time he saw this pathetic stupid little face. Making him look like an idiot and showing up alone. No, this time he was going to pay for real. 

No one messed with Nakahara Chuuya and got away with it. 

Grumbling to himself, the ginger haired mafioso then stomped away from their meeting spot, knowing it would do no good. It was obvious that Dazai wasn’t going to turn up, he was four hours late as it was. No, he needed to take matters into his own hands. 

So instead, the boy slipped away from the shadowy edge of the building back to the mundane bustling of the city just a couple feet away, his body blending in with the hoards of naive and frivolous civilians around him. 

There was something about the sight that made his shoulders tense though, never liking the oblivious and carefree looks on their faces. He never fit in with them, not even during his time with the sheep, and though he could try to blend in it was obvious that Chuuya didn’t mix into their world at all. 

He was a mafioso after all, a brutal gravity manipulator that only saw death and destruction while the people around him never had the misfortune of witnessing such a sight. They were pure and clean, separate from the dark cruel world of the underground.

And that’s how it needed to stay, the two sides separate, always parallel but never touching. It was safer that way, the distance kept them safe, secluded in their little bubble of self made security. He didn’t belong with the mundane and they didn’t belong with him, ever. 

Sighing heavily, the sixteen year old boy then moved past a small family in front of him only to feel his feet glue to the very spot he was standing in order for his mouth to hang open with furious shock.

No, it couldn’t be. There was no fucking way. 

Because sitting in a booth in a small restaurant across the street from their meeting spot was the very bane of his existence, the boy’s lips curved upwards in a mocking smirk from the large bay window as Chuuya felt his blood boil immediately. 

Dazai was here? And not only that, he was sitting down at some no named establishment having the time of his life while the ginger waited four hours for absolutely no reason at all?!

And the way he was seated, it was like the kid wanted Chuuya to find him, his body clearly visible from the extremely large clear glass window and from the streets as he chatted away with another stranger that was just out of view. 

That bastard, he wasn’t that stupid, he must've done this on purpose. That was the only solution. He knew that Chuuya would pass by here, that he would’ve gotten sick of waiting for him and left to find him like this. He had to, or else Dazai would’ve done a better job of hiding. 

Just the idea made him seethe in uncontrollable rage.

Oh no, he was not going to get away with this. He couldn’t just screw him over like this and rub it in his face. No, he was going to drag that sorry kid back to the meeting spot and beat him to hell for ever thinking he could fuck with him like that. 

So much so, Chuuya felt his feet move on their own, his mind focused on nothing but his own fury as he stormed across the street and into the small cafe before grabbing hold of Dazai’s wrist in order to pull him back outside. 

The bandaged menace didn’t object surprisingly, allowing the very angry ginger to pull him into the nearby alley before he felt his body get slammed against the wall. “You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing?! I told you that if you ditched our mission again you’d regret screwing with me.” 

Dazai wasn’t bothered though, his lips turning in fake thought before shrugging his shoulders casually. “Oh, that was today? I didn’t even realize it. Sorry Chibi, I guess you’re just too insignificant in my mind to remember anything you say.”  

His response made Chuuya see red, sensing the bullshit immediately. Sure, maybe to an ignorant stranger his words would’ve made sense but the ginger had the unfortunate displeasure of knowing this bastard for over a year now. 

And nothing he just said made any sense. “Don’t fuck with me, you know damn well it was today. Why else would you be sitting directly across the street mocking me? I know you’re game, Dazai. You picked that spot cause you knew I’d see you.” 

Dazai seemed to blink back in response at that, his lips curving up into something far more devious before dropping his previous innocent act. “Huh, maybe my stupid little mutt isn’t as stupid after all..” 

And though he was right about his game, Chuuya felt no satisfaction of winning, the boy tightening his hold on Dazai in order to throw his fist back with a screaming shout. 

There it was, that stupid dog talk again, he was goddamn sick of it. “I told you not to..!!”

Yet that’s when the bandaged boy simply raised his hands up to his chest, Dazai’s voice just as condescending as usual. “Chuuya please, not so violent in front of our guest.” 

Then all at once, Chuuya felt his hand pause, still reeling backwards in order for him to blink in confusion. What the hell was this guy talking about? It had to be another joke right? Another reason to get him to wiggle out of his wraith. 

Yet even so, the boy questioned. “Guest?” 

Dazai only nodded though, using his defensive hand to point behind his seething partner as Chuuya followed his direction in order to turn around in a huff. 

And there she was, just like Dazai had said. A strange auburn haired female staring back at him, the balls of her feet rocking back and forth in some sort of giddy excitement the moment he acknowledged her. 

 Who the hell was this, another threat? And why hadn’t he sensed her until now? Could it be that he was too wrapped up in his own furious rage that he had gotten this sloppy? 

But once his eyes adjusted, he couldn’t find any type of threat. In fact, she looked as innocent and naive as they came, the girl wearing a teal turquoise colored princess dress that fluffed out by her knees with a matching colored bow that tied her hair neatly back. 

That along with a pair of large glasses covering the entirety of her eyes. 

In fact, it was so off putting that the bright colors of her outfit contrasted the dark and gloomy alley walls when she moved, creating a dissonance between the grimy streets and soft gentle aura she displayed. 

And something about her seemed familiar, like an odd case of deja vu.  

Yet before he could question anything about her, the strange girl only gasped before racing up to him in order to take his gloved hand and shake it erratically “Hiii, I’m so excited to see you again! Oh wow, it’s like a dream come true, really.” 

Her moves were hasty, causing Chuuya’s arm to immediately go numb and pull back with guarded resolve. She didn’t seem dangerous but that didn’t mean anything. He knew better than to take her fangirl attitude at face value. 

Hold on, she said that they had met before. That was strange, the boy unable to place her face to his memory, although her attitude did seem vaguely familiar from somewhere. But where?

Taking a step back in discomfort, Chuuya raised a skeptical eye. “Uhh do I know you?” 

The girl seemed confused for a quick second before she immediately brightened back up in order to slap a hand over her face. “Oh, right! Last time we met was like a year ago so I’m sure you don’t remember me. Silly me, getting ahead of myself. I do that a lot. Oops..” 

She then began to ramble, her words far too jumbled for the poor boy to understand before the girl seemed to catch herself in a soft girlish giggle. “Where was I? Oh yeah, anyways it was great! You hit me in the face and then apologized and then stopped my nose from bleeding all over the place. I think about it all the time, how nice you were back then..” 

Chuuya felt the words sink in ever so slowly, the meaning of them bringing a strange sort of deja vu. Hitting a girl in the face..stopping her nose bleed..apologizing..now why did that sound familiar?

Hold on. 

Just then, his eyes began to widen in realization. Wait, he did remember that. This was the strange weird girl that he had met back in his apartment building, wasn’t it? No wonder why her odd behavior seemed familiar. She was just as bizarre as before. 

Seemed like nothing had changed at all from a year ago. 

Pointing a finger in accusation, Chuuya shouted back in disbelief. “You..” 

The girl, what was her name again? 

Oh yeah, Asagao. 

Asagao only clapped her hands though, unable to hold in her pure joy in her sparkling little eyes as she skipped up to him happily. “Yes, it’s me! Ah, you do remember me! That makes me so happy, Chu Chu!” 

Almost immediately, he felt his throat groan in memory. That’s right, she called him that stupid nickname before he left and wasn’t able to correct her. “It’s Chuuya, say it right, and why are you even here?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why was this strange girl in front of him? It’s like she had materialized from thin air without warning, both last year and right now. She said she wasn’t port mafia but was that really true? He wasn’t sure. 

Asa’s eyes only lit up with recognition though, smiling softly in reply. “Oh, that’s easy. I’m on a date with my boyfriend.” 

At that, Chuuya felt himself pause. “Boyfriend..who..?” 

The girl only laughed though, the sound light and airy as she pointed to the spot behind him with obvious conviction. “Silly goose, he’s right behind you.” 

What the hell was she saying? There wasn’t anyone behind him except for..

Whipping his head around in question, Chuuya’s wild eyes wander around the alley only to find Dazai staring back at him wordlessly. But even so, the boy couldn’t process that reality, his head looking past the boy with confusion. 

There had to be someone else, anyone else she was referring to. 

But sadly, the rest of the alleyway was empty, leaving his heart to drop with dread and lingering concern. No, it couldn’t be. She was messing with him. There was no way. 

Feeling his brain malfunction, Chuuya then turned back to the waiting girl before shaking his head to will away the thought. “Nice try, there’s no one there expect..” 

He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the reality too horrifying and sickening for him to comprehend. This sweet innocent civilian, there was no way she was wrapped up with a sick fuck like Dazai. 

Feeling his head turn from the smiling girl and back Dazai about a dozen times, poor Chuuya desperately looked for another solution, anything then what was in front of him right now. 

But with nothing to ground himself, Chuuya couldn’t help but stutter. “H-Hold on, wait a damn second, you said you were with some guy named Osu.” 

Although that’s when he watched Asagao simply step past him in order to wrap her hands around the bandaged mafioso’s forearm before leaning into the man he hated more than anything and nodding casually. “Yeah, Dazai Osamu.” 

Then all at once, Chuuya felt his entire world explode. 

Red hot heat suddenly burst into the boy’s entire face, his head reeling and spinning with horror as the poor mafioso jumped back in a ragging shout. “W-WHAT?! There’s no fucking way, you’re kidding right? You’re not seriously his...” 

Yet before he could finish the sentence, Dazai’s slimy little bandaged arms shifted around in order to wrap them around Asa’s mid section and push her against his cheek with a mocking pout. “What’s wrong, Chuuya? Jealous I got a hold of this lovely little lady and made her my girlfriend before you could?” 

Dazai’s words didn’t help his flustered expression though, Chuuya’s mind running at a mile a minute as he tried to process the new information. “J-Jealous?! Why would I be? I just..I just don’t understand. What’s wrong with you?” 

Pointing a finger towards the girl in question, Asa only waved his concern away, laughing at the seriousness of it. “Ah, that’s a loaded question, Chu Chu. We would need all day for that.” 

She was treating all this as a joke, but Chuuya didn’t find any of it funny. What the hell was she thinking, letting someone as evil and awful as Dazai control her like this? This was worse than he thought. He had to knock some sense into her. 

Shaking his head, his finger then shifted towards Dazai. “No, I mean it. Out of everyone in the world, why would you ever pick..god I can’t even say it..I think I’m gonna be sick..” 

He only watched her bat her eyes in pure innocence though, not understanding his reaction in the slightest. “Why wouldn’t I? Samu is great. He’s sweet and kind and wonderful. He’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for!”  

Sweet, kind, wonderful? No, there was no way in hell Dazai and those words fit together in the same sentence. This was the same man that had terrorized him every single day since they forcibly became partners. This girl must’ve had a screw loose in her brain in order to think such a ridiculous statement. 

 Dazai only hummed though, obviously enjoying the distraught and disgusted look on his face in order to tighten his hold about his girlfriend’s waist and pull her even closer to him. “Aww, you flatter me, love. You’re not half bad either. In fact, I think those sweet little lips of yours are pretty great also.” 

It didn’t matter if the two weren’t involved like that, Chuuya didn’t know the difference, the boy only thinking the absolute worst from his statement as his brain began to continue to malfunction. “B-But that’s not..he’s not…” 

Luckily for him though, Asa cut off his spiral, her body detaching from Dazai’s in order to skip up to him happily. “Oh, I know! Since you’re not busy anymore why don’t you hang out with us, Chu Chu? I would love to chat and get to know you some more. That is, if you wanted to?”

That sounded like the worst idea in the entire world, the boy finally answering in a complete and coherent thought because of how ridiculous it was. “Why would I ever want to hang out with that sack of shit?”

Asagao only lifted her hands up in response though, that same idiotic grin still on her face. “Because we are celebrating my birthday, and I would love it if we could become friends. Then that would make the day even more wonderful!” 

At that, Chuuya couldn’t help but pause. “Your birthday?” 

Giving another girl-ish cute giggle under her breath, Asa then nodded her head happily before spinning around in a little circle, her skirt swishing with each word. “Yeah! Well, sort of. It’s a long story. I’m making up for lost time. Oh! But Samu got me this pretty fluffy princess dress for the occasion. Doesn't it look cute?” 

And because of her erratic movements, his eyes had no choice but to move towards the brightly colored fabric before another wave of embarrassment moved to his cheeks. What was he even supposed to say to that? Compliments weren't his thing. 

But even still he tried, noticing the hopeful look she was giving him. “Y-Yeah..I guess..” 

His flustered blush was not lost on Dazai though, the bandaged boy narrowing his eyes before reaching forward in order to pull his girl back into his arms with a huff. “Oh look, the doggie is blushing. Careful Asa-chan, don’t stand so close. Chuuya here is a pervert.” 

Feeling his voice raise immediately, the ginger haired boy willed the embarrassment away in order to cover it with an emotion he knew far too well. Anger. “W-What, I am not! She asked me! What else was I supposed to say?!” 

Dazai then shrugged his shoulders in response, his head purposely plopping on top of Asa’s left shoulder before humming absentmindedly in order to play with a loose strand of her auburn hair. “I don’t knowww, seems like an excuse to me. Sounds like something a pervert would say to deny it.” 

The executive then pushed Asa backwards by his arms, the bandaged skin wrapping tightly around her waist like Chuuya was some sort of stranger danger he needed to protect her from. 

Which was absolutely ridiculous considering the poor ginger haired boy didn’t do anything to warrant such a response. This idiot, just what was he accusing him of?! He was getting more and more pissed off by the second. 

Pushing his hands into a ball, Chuuya felt his throat strain with fury in order to shout back roughly. “Shut up, I already told you it’s not like that! Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one that’s always saying disgusting shit offhandedly like a dumb ass.”  

I mean seriously, why was shitty Dazai even suggesting such a thing when he constantly told Chuuya about how he was playing with women. Pinning them down, having his hands full, entertaining his time, those were just some of the sick comments he had made. 

Hold on, when he was saying all that stuff, he wasn’t talking about Asagao, right? He hoped not, she was too sweet and naive to be in that kind of situation, and for his sanity the ginger brushed the idea off. 

Dazai only pouted his lips though, a look of disbelief in his uncovered eye. “Chuuya! Are you saying that you don’t think my girlfriend is cute?” 

Although that’s when he watched Asa gasp as well, her voice turned shaky and uncertain as she turned back to Chuuya with a newly depressed tone. “W-What? You don’t think I look cute…?” 

And just like that, all the insults and saved up responses he had in his mind disappeared completely, the brutal mafioso completely at a loss for the seemingly upset civilian before him. Damn it, why did she have to look so sad? 

Not knowing how to respond, Chuuya quickly put his hands out, desperately to stop her tears and the depressed air that he had unknowingly caused. “N-No, I didn’t..that’s not what I…”

But very quickly, the boy realized that he couldn’t win. Either way, Dazai would criticize his answer, causing the ginger haired kid to quickly groan in order to pull on his hair with growing stress and anxiety.

And the cocky ass look from Dazai didn’t help as well, almost like he knew how unraveled his partner was becoming by the second. That bastard, he was making him insane.  “Ahhh just shut up!!” 

He then heard that no good bandage wearing waste of space laugh at his misery, confirming Chuuya’s theory almost instantly. He was fucking with him on purpose to gain a reaction, and he had lost yet again. Damn it. 

Yet that’s when he watched Asagao reach forward in order to plop a hand on top of Dazai’s head, his chin still firmly resting against her shoulder comfortably. “Now Samu, take it easy on Chu Chu. He hasn’t even answered my question yet.” 

Dazai then grumbled in response as Asa’s hand moved down to the death grip on her wrist in order to tap her pointer finger onto his bandages in some sort of hidden code before the boy reluctantly let go. 

Moving his fingers from his messy ginger hair, Chuuya then paused his breakdown in order to find the girl standing a few feet away from him, her hand immediately grabbing his with a small smile. “So what do you say, will you come celebrate my birthday with me?” 

Her question was absolutely insane considering the hell he had just been put through. It didn’t matter how sweet and nice this random girl was, there was no way he was going to spend the entire day with a demon like Dazai. Over his dead body. 

But how could he tell her that? She was looking at him so hopefully, even though he was sure that this Asa girl didn’t even know who he was. “Listen I don’t think..” 

Yet before he could finish, Asagao reached down in order to grab his other gloved hand, holding both of them up with a small squeeze. “Please say you’ll come! I would really love it if you were there. I just know we could be great friends!” 

But Chuuya knew the only reason she wanted him to come was because she didn’t know about his mafia lifestyle. Yes, he had asked her about the port mafia when they first met but there was no way she could know about the bloody and brutal life he lived. 

Dazai probably kept her in the dark. That was the only solution. 

Because if she did know then there was no way any sane person would ever act this way. He murdered people and she was just holding his hands like nothing.  “Now hold on, I didn’t say yes..”

Asagao only leaned closer though, Chuuya catching the vague blue of her eyes behind her glasses. “But you’re thinking about it, right?”

Her pushy nature was starting to irritate him though. Why couldn’t she just shut up and let him finish? Instead she was putting words in his mouth, making him guilty for turning her down.

Because of that, Chuuya felt a bit of his temper seep out, ripping his hands away from her hold in order to take a step back with a bitter scoff. “Cut it out, I didn’t say that either!” 

Although that’s when he watched Asagao’s face fall for a second, her shoulders slumping back down just like before in order for her to sadly chuckle under her breath. “Oh..I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I? Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just this is my first birthday in Yokohama with someone to share it with and I got carried away. All the others were so lonely before, but I understand if you’re busy…” 

Widening his eyes, Chuuya then felt his heart twist inside his chest with a guilty pang. 

Ah shit, now he felt like an asshole. She sounded so sad saying that. But how was he supposed to know that she was lonely, that she didn’t have any friends or anyone to share her birthday with? Damn it. How could he possibly deny her after that? 

And even though the last thing he wanted to do was spend time with shitty Dazai, the boy knew he could manage at least an hour or so. He guessed. Anything to make the guilt in his chest go away. 

Grumbling to himself with silent defeat, Chuuya then sighed before scratching the back of his head awkwardly, his voice slightly uncomfortable. “Fine. I’ll stay, just don’t make that face.” 

Then, like a light switch, Asagao seemingly jumped back to life, almost like her past sadness was fabricated completely in order to get what she wanted. “Wait, really?! Did you hear that Osu, he’s gonna stay! Ah, this is the best day ever!” 

Feeling immediately whiplashed, Chuuya then stood dumbfounded before feeling Asagao’s giddy and frantic arms wrap around his waist in a sloppy hug before jumping up and down once, shaking the boy completely. 

Hold on, why did he feel like he just got played? 

No, that couldn’t be. He had to be imagining it. He was just spending too much time with Dazai. That’s why her actions felt off. Stupid bastard was messing with his psyche now. Just great. 

Asagao then gasped before immediately letting go, almost as if her brain seemingly remembered some other random thought. “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s get going! I got lots of stuff I wanna do.” 

Clapping her hands together, the girl then turned around sharply, her steps quick and confident before she completely missed the door to the left in order to slam her entire face into the brick wall next to her as Chuuya gasped in horror. 

Shit, that looked like it really hurt. “...are you okay?” 

Asa only stepped back before rubbing her face once though, a goofy unbothered look still on her face in order to pat the brick with understanding. “Oh, yeah! I’m great. I just thought the door was closer than that ha ha ha.” 

Suddenly Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu, recalling their first meeting. Damn, she wasn’t kidding when she said she had shitty eyesight. 

How did she ever get anywhere like that? Weren’t those glasses supposed to help? Great, now he was even more concerned about her. 

Lifting up his hand to help her, the girl simply stepped away from it, Asa’s hand finding the doorknob in order to enter back into the cafe as Chuuya watched completely and utterly dumbfounded. That girl was something else. 

He didn’t think he’d ever met someone like her before. So strange and odd yet so gentle and kind at the same time. He didn’t know what to make of her at all. And for some reason, one interaction with her had left him completely winded and exhausted, like he had just ran a marathon. 

Now that he mentioned it, he felt like that the last time they had met also. Completely and utterly drained of all energy. 

Giving out a heavy sigh at the feeling, Chuuya then turned around back to Dazai before a wave of displeasure washed over him. He couldn’t talk about this while Asa was around but now that she was gone he wanted answers. 

This cocky son of a bitch, he had to have some sort of underhanded motive for keeping a girl like her around, and he was going to find out what. “What the hell is your game?” 

Dazai only batted his uncovered eye with fake innocence though, something that made Chuuya feel sick. “Game? I don’t know what you mean.” 

He was lying, it was obvious, which meant he was using that poor girl for something. “Don’t fuck with me. That girl, you can’t be serious, right?” 

The only thing he received though was a cocky ass smirk, the bandaged boy stepping closer with a dark gleam in the corner of his eye. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Chuuya.” 

And sure, Dazai was right in a sense. He didn’t really care about the types of women he kept around but he felt bad for Asagao, so much so that seeing a pure soul with someone like Dazai didn’t feel right. This kid would only make her cry, that was practically a guarantee. 

And call him weak or whatever but Chuuya didn’t want to see that kind of result for her. 

She was so different from them after all, it was practically obvious to tell from that one tiny interaction. Dazai and him had murdered, tortured and committed thousands of crimes. 

She didn't need to be around that. She didn’t deserve to have that light around her die like theirs had. “It becomes my business when you drag innocent civilians like her into danger just because you think it would be funny to watch.” 

And he was sure that Dazai saw this as some kind of sick game, that he was relishing in the corruption of this girl between his fingers but Chuuya didn’t agree with that ideology. The two worlds needed to be separate and this idiot was mixing what shouldn’t be mixed. 

Although something about his warning seemed to bring the boy amusement, Dazai’s lips curving up into a scoff as he whispered the words on his tongue. “Civilians like her, huh? What a dense word choice..” 

Yet before he could question it, the boy covered his comment with another, his tongue licking his lips in some sort of depraved manner. “You’re right Chibi, she is quite fun. In fact, she’s the most fun I’ve had in years.” 

Chuuya felt himself cringe in disgust at that, not warning to know what he was implying. “I mean it, shitty Dazai. Stop manipulating her. She’s not like you.” 

Once again though, Dazai only snorted, his lips carrying an ominous air to them as he chuckled under his breath to Chuuya’s dismay. What kind of reaction was that?

Taking a threatening step forward, the ginger haired boy narrowed his eyes, not understanding the joke. “What’s so damn funny about that?” 

The air was silent then, Chuuya watching as Dazai simply turned away from him in order to open the door back to the cafe with a small shake of his head. “I take back what I said, you’re still stupid.” 

At that, the boy felt himself grow livid, his head reeling with anger in frustration in order to snap back to Dazai with a shout. “W-What? What the hell does that mean?!” 

Dazai only paused in the doorway though, his hand moving towards the frame before looking back towards his idiot partner with a cocky knowing smirk, the ginger’s words playing in his ear in an amusing loop. 

She’s not like you. 

Oh how wrong poor little Chuuya was. 

And Dazai couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized it. 

Tilting his head to the side, Dazai then finished cryptically, a chill running up Chuuya’s spine as he unknowingly took in every single word with dread. 

“That’s for you to find out.” 

-----

Chapter 16:

Feeling even more drained than before, Chuuya took a couple more moments alone before finally deciding to enter the back door of the cafe with an anxious weighted sigh of frustration. 

He had absolutely no idea what Dazai had meant back in that alleyway but not knowing was honestly pissing him off even more. Whatever it was though, it didn’t sound good, almost like the boy was mocking his inability to see something that was in front of his face. 

But what didn’t he understand? Things looked pretty clear to him. 

And that was that this strange girl was in danger, in multiple horrifying ways. 

The first was Dazai obviously, that was the most blatant one. It was almost a guarantee in his mind that the loser didn’t care about her and was only using her for some sort of selfish purpose. 

Because that’s just how Dazai was. He was unapologetically cruel and inhumane. He did things for sheer entertainment even if the other party was desecrated in the process. 

And Chuuya knew that firsthand, considering he had the unfortunate displeasure of being on both the receiving and spectating sides. 

He comprehended the bastard so well, more than he ever wanted to in the first place, and because of that, Chuuya also knew that Dazai didn’t have the capacity to keep someone around without it having a benefit to him. 

But the question was, what was Asagao’s benefit to a demon like Dazai? What was the reason he kept her around? Was it merely for some sick kick or was it something that Chuuya wasn’t seeing? 

Because his interactions with that girl thus far had been as innocent as they came. Sure, she was weird and kind of strange but that’s about it. Dazai never bothered with civilians before so what made her so special? Or was the girl just a fly caught in a deceptive and manipulative web? He didn’t know. 

But the second reason she was in danger was possibly even worse than the first. Because if Dazai did hypothetically care about this girl, which was highly unlikely but Chuuya could play devil's advocate, then he had to know that just being out like this was putting her at risk to be hurt, kidnapped or even tortured by his enemies. 

The guy was an executive after all, Mori’s right hand man and he had made a million enemies during his time in the port mafia. He knew Dazai wasn’t an idiot so he must have known that attaching himself to such a weak and helpless girl would make her a target in an instant. 

That’s why Chuuya never tried or even toyed with the idea of dating, because he knew that any partner he gained would be in constant peril, and that was something the ginger haired boy couldn’t stomach. 

But here was Dazai, bringing his girlfriend out in public, pushing themselves in with hoards of people and letting her roam alone when he knew damn well the risk that was waiting around every corner. 

That made Chuuya’s first theory seem more plausible. He had to just be fucking around, because there was no way anyone would ever do what he was doing to a loved one. They would protect a partner, not make them balance on a line between safety and the instability of life.   

But either way, whichever it turned out to be, Chuuya was going to find out. 

Because if she really was in danger the ginger knew he had to get her out of it. Dazai would never come to her aid, he would never let her go so now it was up to him. 

Over his dead body would he ever allow a moral and pure person like her to be corrupted so brutally. No, he would stop it before that slimy bandaged prick could even try. 

Giving another full body sigh, Chuuya then turned the corner only to come out of his thoughts as he watched Asagao brighten up at his presence, her hand waving wildly from across the cafe in order to slightly bounce off her seat. “Chu Chu, over here! We got you a seat!”  

Almost immediately, a wave of disgust poured into his throat at her given nickname, the port mafia member reluctantly noticing the long empty booth in the corner as Dazai and Asagao sat together on the opposite side by the large window. 

Making his way over to her in order to slide into the empty booth with a groan, he got down to business. First things first, that name had to go. “Listen, if I’m gonna stay then you need to cut it out with that name already.” 

At first he thought she used it by accident but very quickly it was apparent that wasn’t the case. She was doing it on purpose, evading his actual name for a cute-sy replacement and he was sick of it. 

Asagao only turned her head though. “Aww really? But I think it’s cute.” 

Dazai then nodded in agreement before slinging an arm around her shoulder in order to pull her closer with a mocking reply. “Yeah Chu Chu, lighten up already. I’d say it’s growing on me too.” 

But that just made the situation even worse, the boy feeling his temper rise by the second. “Oh god, don’t you dare start. It’s not cute, it’s fucking annoying. I hate it.” 

And that seemed to be new information for Asa. “You really hate it?” 

Slamming his hands on the table, he replied. “Yes! It’s the worst nickname I’ve ever heard. Just call me by my name if you wanna talk to me, will you? It’s not that hard.” 

He then watched Asa pause for a second, seemingly taking in his words before her eyes flashed with something different, something that Chuuya couldn’t put his finger on. “Okay, I understand. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you that without permission. I promise I won’t say it anymore until you agree to it.” 

Chuuya only scoffed though, firm in his beliefs. “Yeah well, like hell that’s ever gonna happen so you better get used to just using my actual name instead.” 

Asa then smiled, the corners not reaching the tips of her cheeks in order to close her eyes with some sort of unknown acceptance. “Okay, Chuuya. I understand.” 

Good, she probably realized that this was a challenge that was impossible to beat, that’s why she was giving up so easily. Well, that was easy enough. Usually he’d have to fight someone on his decision more. How strange and refreshing. 

Dazai on the other hand only pouted his lips, tapping his fingers playfully on the table. “Aww Chuuya’s such a party pooper. He doesn’t let me say any of his nicknames either. Doesn’t stop me ignoring it. I say to do it anyway. It’s funny to watch him explode, trust me.” 

Glaring in the direction of the boy, Chuuya grumbled only for Asagao to lift a hand up and touch his bandaged wrist gently. “No, it’s okay. I went overboard anyways. If I want us to be friends then I have to listen and respect his wishes.” 

Her words were so kind and mindful, causing the ginger haired boy to blink in disbelief. Damn, when was the last time someone was so careful of his requests? Did she really want to be friends with him that badly? But why, he wasn’t anyone special. 

So much so, the boy couldn’t help to voice his question, desperate to know the answer. “Hey so uhh how did you even get involved with shitty Dazai in the first place? I mean you are way better than him. Why settle?” 

The bluntness of his question didn’t shake the girl though, her fingers tracing an invisible line down Osamu’s bandaged wrist as he watched her quietly. “I don’t see it as settling at all. Osamu is the only person I value more than anyone else in the world. The connection I have to him can’t be explained in words.” 

Huh, that was strange. Her response was so personal and yet so vague, something that Chuuya couldn't comprehend in the slighest. What did that even mean? And how could she value an awful person like Dazai so wholeheartedly? There had to be something he was missing. 

But before he got the chance, Osamu gasped over dramatically in order to flop his head on her shoulder and nuzzle into her neck in order to wrap his arms around her chest in a suffocating hug. “Aww Asa-chan! You’re too precious and adorable! Hey Chuuya, isn’t my girlfriend just the best?! I don’t know how I got so lucky to be even near the presence of an angel like her!” 

Asagao only accepted her “death by hug” though, the girl smiling lovingly under the suffocation but not returning the gesture which Chuuya found odd. If she was that happy by his touch then why wasn’t she returning it? 

It was like they had some sort of unspoken rule about it or something. 

Sighing to himself, Chuuya then grumbled under his breath, the response mostly to himself then the love birds across from him. “I have no idea. If you ask me she’s too good for a suicidal bastard like you.” 

If the two heard his comment though, they didn’t acknowledge it, Asagao simply closing her eyes in order to smile softly under Osamu’s firm embrace. “Ahh, me too Osamu. I also feel lucky. In fact, today is such a wonderful day to be alive, don’t you think?” 

Pulling away just slightly, Dazai then wrinkled his nose in disgust like she had just uttered something completely outrageous. “Don’t know, it feels the same like every other pointless day to me.” 

His depressing comment only made her silently contemplate the thought though, Chuuya watching her as she shifted back from the boy in order to gaze towards the open window in some sort of understanding. 

Then after a moment, she answered, her eyes distantly not connecting to the bustling crowds just past the glass barrier around her vision. “Hmm, well I’d like to think it’s at least a little different. Feels better that way, you know?” 

Chuuya didn’t fully get her response though, sensing the dissonance between the two immediately and calling her out on it. “What does that even mean?” 

Asagao then glanced back at the ginger haired mafioso before lifting her fingers up to her glasses in order to push up the surface. “Oh uhhh I just think it’s better to think about the possibilities that the world can offer. I mean if you go in with a good attitude then even the most evil things can’t really be all that bad, right?” 

Chuuya only scoffed at her sugar coated response though, throwing it away immediately. Sure, it was a nice sentiment to be so positive about things but he had seen firsthand the depravity and horrors that the world could offer by being in the underground back alleys his entire life. 

And her thought process was naive at best, knowing it would only cause destruction in the end. “That stupid thinking is just gonna get you disappointed when you’re wrong.” 

Asagao didn’t seem shaken by his rough response, almost as if she had already expected him to say something like that. “Maybe, but someone has to believe in the impossible outcomes, otherwise none of them will ever come true.” 

Her words were surprising, a complete contrast to the dark and pointless ideology that he had heard Dazai utter time and time again. Could these two really mix well together with such opposite views? That guy only saw death while she saw the life that bloomed from possibilities around her. 

And even though she knew that it may lead to disappointment down the road, she simply didn’t care, still choosing to believe in the best path even when the cobblestone was lined with only dead ends. 

How strange, putting so much faith in an unstable and cruel world like theirs. 

Hold on, was that why she stuck by an awful boy like Dazai this long, was it because of her inability to connect the red flags and danger in her mind? Suddenly things were starting to make more sense, why she could stomach such an insufferable bastard like him. 

Wait, did Dazai know this also, was that how he was taking advantage of her? 

It had to be, because why else would a demon like that guy ever care about a creature like her, so full of life and sparks of mortality, especially when he only wished for the absolute opposite. 

Yet before he could say anything else, the waitress came over in order to drop off a tray of tiny desserts at their table in order for Asagao to audibly gasp in joy. “Ah, it’s here! Dig in, everyone! I got a sampler tray for us cause I wasn’t sure what kind of sweets you like Chuuya. I hope there is something in here that looks good to you.” 

Looking down at the brightly colored desserts, Chuuya then surveyed the options with silent conjecture. He was never really a sweets kind of guy but it seemed rude to turn down the offer, especially considering she was so thoughtful in picking something he might like. 

And on her birthday no less. She was still thinking about everyone else around her first. How sweet. 

The boy then picked out a simple strawberry fruit parfait with silent acceptance as Asagao grabbed a chocolate coated cake before Dazai took a piece from her dessert in order to shove it into his mouth with a gasp. 

Leaning over to him with anticipation, Asa replied. “Well, what do you think? Is it good?” 

Dazai then smiled to himself in order to turn towards the girl and place his fingers onto her jaw and pull her forward with a knowing hum. “I don’t know, why don’t you try it, love? Here, let me..” 

Lifting the fork up in her direction, the mafia executive then pressed his fingers further into her cheeks, causing her jaw to open and her lips to part in order for Dazai to sensually speak back. “Now open those pretty pink lips of yours for me, darling and say ahh..” 

Chuuya then watched in stunned silence as Dazai pushed the fork into her mouth, feeding the girl like some sort of baby bird as Asa happily accepted the bite. 

Just what the fuck is wrong with them? Dazai he expected but he would’ve thought the girl would’ve turned down that kind of embarrassing pda, especially when they were near that huge ass glass window leading to the street. Did they really have no shame? 

What a couple of freaks. Get a room. 

Watching her eyes practically sparkle in response, Asa immediately licked her lips from the chocolatey taste in order to speak casually like nothing was out of the ordinary. “Wow, that is good! Thanks Samu!” 

Chuuya then resisted the urge to cringe as the girl then turned her eyes over him in order to catch him staring. “Oh, sorry Chuuya. Do you want some too? It’s really good, I promise..” 

Almost immediately, the boy put his hands up, already feeling slightly embarrassed by the display he had just witnessed. “No way, especially not after you got your germs on it.” 

Dazai then smirked to himself in order to pick up the fork once and wiggle across the table in Chuuya’s face. “Aww come on Chuuya! You want me to feed you too? Come here, I’ll give you a nice big bite!!” 

Feeling himself back away in absolute disgust and horror, the boy quickly shook his head. No way was he gonna let this idiot do that. He’d probably shove that cake down his throat and make him choke to death on it. “Back off, shitty Dazai! Don’t you fucking dare!!” 

Already placing his hands on the table in a mock attack, the bandaged boy turned his head in a challenge. “What’s the matter, Chibi? You were so intent on watching us. I thought you wanted a turn.” 

Chuuya could only stutter back, denying whatever the guy was implying. “That’s only because you two are in front of my fucking face. I had no choice, you freak!” 

Shrugging his shoulders in response, Dazai replied mockingly. “I don’t know. To me it just sounds like more evidence that you’re a pervert.” 

Almost immediately, Chuuya felt his face turn red. Not this again. Dazai was making him look bad for no damn reason. Obviously it wasn’t like that. “Will you quit it with that! I said I’m not a..!!” 

Yet his enemy only cut him off, placing his hands over his lips in a makeshift microphone in order to raise his voice to the entire cafe as he sang loudly. “Hey everyone, did you hear that? Chuuya’s a pervert, Chuuya’s a big fat pervert!” 

Slamming his hands on the table, Chuuya then lifted his body fully off the seat, the red ominous glow of his ability outlining his frame as he thought of all the ways to beat the shit out of the kid in front of him. 

Anything to make him shut his goddamn mouth. “Why you..!!” 

Yet before he had the chance to do so, both Dazai and Chuuya were halted when he heard a fit of laughter next to them, the two boys turning in order to find Asagao physically holding her stomach as tears pricked the corners of her ears as she tried to breathe. 

They seemed dumbfounded at that, the kid’s silent as Asa simply wiped a stray tear away in order to put a hand up in apology. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m just so happy. I’ve never experienced anything this lively before. It’s so different from my other birthdays. It’s great, really..” 

She seemed genuinely happy about their bickering, like the loud and rambunctious air was music to her ears which concerned Chuuya more than anything. Who in the hell liked yelling and arguing? He was right, there was something wrong with her. 

But Dazai seemed to understand more about her sentence, the boy sliding back down in his seat in order to place a warm hand to her head in absolute silence as she tried to desperately quell her laughter.    

And although their interaction was completely wordless, even Chuuya could sense some kind of hidden meaning to it. Like they were reading each other's minds. Weird. 

But the new air was enough to make the boy slump back into his seat as well, grumbling to himself as his anger dissipated.

What could he even say to that? Sure, he still wanted to throttle the idiot but after seeing that face from her he decided to resist. 

Just barely. 

“Whatever. Just hurry up and finish so I can go home already.” 

The rest of the dessert party was relatively normal. Sure, Dazai and Chuuya still snapped at each other every five seconds but Asa didn’t seem to mind, the girl happily eating away at her cake until there was nothing left. 

And once they were done, the three kids made their way back into the streets of people only for the gingered haired boy to watch Dazai kick his foot out just as Asa approached behind him. 

Then almost immediately, the poor girl walked right into his shoe, tripping on his outstretched foot, falling forwards with a squeak only for Dazai to shift his body and grab her by the waist rather dramatically before she could fall to the ground. 

Titling her body back into an intimate bow, the sixteen year old boy then snickered to himself. “My Asa-chan. I know you said you fell for me but you have to be more careful. My darling girlfriend, whatever would I do if something happened to you?”

His smooth talk was real rich considering he had purposely kicked his foot out so that she would fall. What a shady little brat, acting like her hero when he was really making fun of her inability to see. 

Asagao didn’t seem to notice though, her voice casual. “Sorry, Samu. I’m still getting used to the streets of Yokohama. Thanks for catching me though.” 

Dazai then gasped in an over the top fashion before snapping her body back up in order to shove her to his chest in a protective hold. “Not to worry my love, I will always catch you! I mean how could I not when you’ve already fallen from heaven and into my arms!” 

Chuuya only resisted the urge to gag at his pick up lines, feeling more drained then ever before. “Right so, can I go now? I’ve stayed long enough hearing this bastard's bullshit.” 

That seemed to shatter their little personal bubble though, Asagao immediately breaking away from Osu in order to run up to the gravity manipulator with a gasp. “What, no you can’t go yet. The day’s not over yet. I still have lots of plans.”

Raising an eye, the boy frowned. “Like?” 

Asa then lifted her hands up to the sky, shouting back happily. “Like karaoke!” 

Chuuya only blinked in confusion though, the words processing on his tongue. “...karaoke?” 

She wanted two port mafia members to sing karaoke with her? Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. That would ruin his image he was trying to go for. Besides, her plans sounded rather mundane, and that was something that Chuuya was never good at in the first place. 

Yet before he could argue, Dazai had latched onto Asa’s wrist in order to drag her behind him and down the road. “Come on Chibi, it’s my darlings day, whatever she says goes!” 

Chuuya then watched the couple as his partner practically yanked the girl around the busy groups of people as the ginger chased after them with concern. 

What the hell kind of hold was that? It looked like he was trying to kidnap her. “Hold on, why are you pulling her like that?” 

Dazai then paused for a moment, his hold unmoving from her wrist in order to glance back with a sly smirk. “Cause my love is hopelessly lost without me to guide her, isn't’ that right?” 

Asagao only nodded her head in response in order for the boy to continue his rough handling as Chuuya couldn’t help but follow behind them with apprehension. How could the girl possibly be okay with this? He wasn’t even holding her hand, he was just dragging her around like a dog on a leash. 

Great, now he couldn’t leave them alone. 

Not when he was still unsure what Dazai’s plans really were. 

Yet unknown to the spiraling Chuuya, the bandaged boy and the glasses girl then secretly glanced towards each other, sharing a hidden message with their eye contact and a small unseen nod before she felt Dazai’s fingers tighten around his hold. 

And as they went, a group of shadowy figures watched dangerously from a distance as well, their gaze focusing in on the executive and the auburn haired female that was attached to his side. 

But mostly the girl. 

Nakahara Chuuya had been in a million horrifying situations. 

He had seen wars, witnessed the most brutal of deaths and tortured the worst criminals he could possibly imagine. But nothing, and I mean nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Because right now the port mafia member, the leader of the sheep, the fearsome gravity manipulator was stuck sitting on a plush sofa, listening to Dazai badly sing and dance the latest pop songs over and over again for hours on end. 

And not only that, Asagao and Osamu seemed to encourage each other every single time, the two kids having a time of their life as they took turns with the verses, clapping and cheering like they were at an actual concert. 

It was an odd sight for sure. Because although Asa wasn’t half bad at singing, Dazai purposely sang horribly, probably to get on Chuuya nerves and make him want to run into oncoming traffic. Because if that was the plan he was succeeding. 

But as ear grating and overstimulating as it was, even Chuuya couldn’t help but admit that the two of them looked good together in some kind of fucked up way. The way they danced and shouted seemed to be in a sync that the ginger couldn’t comprehend. 

Now and back at the cafe they seemed to read each other's minds without a word, able to predict their next arm gestures or kicks in order to match it in a millisecond. 

It was kind of impressive to be honest, how well they matched each other without even trying.

Finally the song ended as Asa and Osamu gave each other a giddy high five and flop onto the sofa in order for the girl to lift out the microphone to Chuuya. “Ah, that was fun! You should really try it, Chuuya. It’s very freeing!” 

The boy only shook his head though, pushing the object away. There was no way in hell he was going to sing while Dazai was here. The guy would just make fun of him for it. “Nah, I’m alright. You can take my turn since you’re so good at it.” 

Asagao then smiled before pulling the mic back to her. “You think so? I’ve been practicing for this very moment. Glad to know all the singing alone in my room paid off finally!” 

Her response was depressing as hell, causing Chuuya to raise an eye in question. She said something like that in the cafe also. What was her life even like before she met Dazai? Because the way she was speaking it seemed kind of lonely and sad. 

Yet before he could speak on it, Osamu stretched out his arms in order to throw the heavy microphone directly into Chuuya’s face. “Honestly, it’s for the better if he stays quiet. I’ve heard Chibi sing and it sounds like a cat in a dishwasher.  Trust me, Asa-chan. You’re dodging a bullet there!” 

Then the boy pointed to the door with a hum. “I’m going to extend our time, try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, love.” 

Dazai then winked in her direction before leaving Asa and the ginger alone in an awkward and uncomfortable silence. 

Not knowing what to say, Chuuya then jumped up before also moving towards the door with a rushed reply. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want anything?” 

Shaking her head in response, the boy then took in the answer before disappearing down the hallway in order to force himself to breathe from the strange new atmosphere. 

This place was so different from the places he usually frequented, littered with hoards of school kids in uniform around the same age as him. Even still, the mafioso still felt out of place in his own supposed domain. 

Perhaps if he wasn’t in the sheep or the mafia then this could feel more natural. 

Sighing to himself, Chuuya then couldn’t help but think back to the annoying and insufferable bandaged menace that he had been forced to follow around all day. He still didn’t know what to make of Asa and Dazai’s relationship but he still couldn’t help but be conflicted by it. 

Because nothing had explicitly shown him that Dazai didn’t care about her. Yes, he was still mean and cruel but there was something else about the two of them that Chuuya couldn’t place. 

The way the two looked at each other sometimes, the way they silently communicated with each other by simple and seemingly natural touches, it was something that the ginger hadn’t seen at all from Dazai in the time he’d known him. 

And it was blatantly obvious that Asagao was crazy about him but was it the same for the executive? Could it really be? Did Dazai actually have the capacity to care about someone else other than himself? 

Had he been wrong this entire time? You know, perhaps he judged the guy too quickly. Sure, he wasn’t a good person but perhaps he wasn’t all evil. Maybe, just maybe there was hope somewhere deep inside that pitch black heart of his. 

Turning the corner to get to the vending machine, Chuuya then froze as he saw a very familiar black jacket and bandaged arms appeared in his vision just a couple feet away. 

And just like that, every single bit of hope, every nice thing he had said in his mind about his partner flew out the window in an instant. 

Because standing a couple feet away was that very same boy, grabbing onto some random ladies' hands lovingly while flirting with her openly in front of the entire building as he swooned.“I have to ask. Would a beautiful lady such as yourself be interested in a double suicide with me?” 

And hearing his words, Chuuya only saw red.

 That bastard, that two timing, cheating little rat! His lovesick girlfriend was just steps away and he was just betraying her so easily, on her birthday nonetheless!! God, what a selfish horrible, ugly little prick. He wanted to beat his face in. 

How could he do that to her? Didn’t he hear what she said about him, about how she thought that Dazai was the most important thing to her? He really had no problem crushing her dreams like that. 

Although that’s when he heard a small female voice behind him, poking his shoulder once. “Umm Chuuya? Are you okay? You took a while so I got worried.” 

Feeling his face grow pale, Chuuya then immediately turned around before catching the concerned look in Asagao’s face. No, this was bad. She couldn’t see this. It would crush her, it would hurt her beyond reason, and on her birthday. 

No, he couldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t give Dazai the satisfaction. 

Quickly reaching his hand forward, Chuuya then latched onto her eyes in order to push her backwards and away from the horrible disgusting sight. “Follow me, this way…” 

He didn’t let go until the two were fully outside of the building, his hand moving away in order to immediately shut down the danger as quickly as possible. “Listen, you need to break up with Dazai. Trust me, it’s for your own good.” 

At that, Asa softened, almost like she already knew where this conversation was heading. “Chuuya..” 

Chuuya shook his head almost instantly though. “Look, I know you wanna believe that he’s a good guy or whatever but that’s just not the case. He isn’t this sweet boyfriend you’ve hoping for. He’s a monster, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself and dating you is definitely some sort of sick joke to him. I just know it.” 

Once again, the girl was only unbothered. “Thank you for being worried about me, but Osamu’s not as bad as you think he is.”

Not as bad?! No, she was right, he was worse. Dazai was the worst person he had ever had the displeasure of meeting and Chuuya was desperate to get his slimy little fingers off of her as quickly as possible. Just because he had to deal with him didn’t mean she did as well. 

So much so, the control he had slowly started to slip away in order to make her understand the severity. “No, you don’t get it! That bastard is in there cheating on you right now, flirting with some chick with absolutely no shame! He’s disgusting.” 

Ah shit, he didn’t mean to spill that to her right now. But what could he do, he was just so pissed about her inability to see what was really wrong here. Yes, maybe she’d cry but at least she’d understand. 

She was silent then, causing Chuuya to hastily continue. “The truth is, you don’t know anything about him. He’s been playing with you this whole damn time! How much did he tell you about being in the port mafia? Has he told you he’s murdered and tortured thousands of people? Has he said anything about the disturbing crimes and disgusting shit I’ve seen him do for the last year? Face it, Asagao. He doesn’t care, he never did.” 

Grabbing hold of her shoulders in order to shake some sense into her, the boy finished plainly. “Look, I can get you out of here. I can help you leave him if he won’t let you but you need to do it now. By attaching yourself to him you’ve already put yourself in danger. People are going to see you as a target and I’m damn sure that Dazai won’t come save you either. Do you hear me, you’re going to die if you stay here..” 

And he was prepared to ditch this place in a heartbeat in order to make sure such a kind and pure soul was safe from the clutches of the demon. 

Perhaps Dazai didn’t have a heart but he did and the last thing he was going to do was allow the light in her to die just because that mackerel didn’t care enough to protect it. 

Yet before he could speak again, Chuuya’s entire body began to tense as he felt a threatening presence join them in the alleyway, causing the boy to immediately shove his arms into Asagao in order to push her behind him with a glare. Who the fuck..?

A group of individuals seemingly appeared out of nowhere then, one to the men clapping sarcastically at the scene before him. “Well well well, what do we have here? I thought we had a meeting today but here you seem to be having a grand old time after standing us up.” 

Chuuya recognized the men immediately, a groan sounding in the back of his throat. Ah shit, these were the guys that Dazai and him were supposed to threaten for stepping out of line and going against the port mafia’s orders. Looks like they got tired of waiting just like him.

And though he could understand their annoyance, the fact that Asagao was here with him made this situation a million times worse. This is what he was trying to avoid and now the lines between his world and hers were crossing into each other. 

Keeping his stance strained, the mafioso then shoved his hands into his pockets before giving the men around them a warning look. “The meeting got pushed back. My shitty partner decided to go MIA and I was just about to drag him back.” 

Although that’s when the man in the middle of the group started to laugh, his lips turning up into a twisted toothy grin in order to lift his hand out to his men for something. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, plans have changed.” 

Reaching behind him, the random thug then pulled out a very familiar black jacket, the fabric crumbled and messy as a deep set of crimson blood dripped from the ends. 

Oh fuck, this was bad. These guys didn’t want a meeting, did he? They wanted an ambush, to fully break free of the mafia’s chains.

And now they had Dazai as leverage to do it. 

Chuuya was then taken out his thoughts as Asagao shouted in pure fear, her voice shaky and uncertain, a flash of red auburn ran past his vision in order to reach the jacket. “O-Osamu?!” 

Feeling his throat stain with terror, the ginger quickly lifted his hand out to stop her only to hit air, almost like she was never there in the first place before blinking and finding her a couple inches from the fabric. 

Damn it, what the fuck was she doing?! “Hey wait, don’t..!!” 

It was too late though, one of the men activating their ability in an instant as red sharp strings sprung from his fingertips in order to latch onto Asagao’s neck and pull her backwards into enemy arms. 

The sharp skill instantly choked her, causing the girl to gasp out in fear only for her captives to twist her arms behind her back painfully with a sick hum. “Mmm and what do we have here?” 

Chuuya was livid though, his body already glowing with his gravity manipulation ability and absolute rage. “Bastard! Let her go, she’s not a part of this!” 

The man only laughed though, tightening the strings on her throat as Asa let out another suffocating gasp before tapping her cheek once. “I beg to differ, Nakahara. We’ve been watching this one very closely. Who would’ve thought we would get to meet the demon prodigy’s precious little girlfriend? I think we’ll keep her too just to make him squirm.” 

Analyzing the situation with a pounding heartbeat, Chuuya glanced at the men around him before cursing silently. From the way they were positioned any move could cause the ability around Asa’s neck to snap her head off completely. He was stuck. 

Grasping for anything he could, the boy glared back. “Nice try but Dazai doesn’t care about her like that. Taking her won’t give you any damn leverage.”

And he hoped that would be enough to let her go, to lessen her value to these dangerous men, but sadly he only received the opposite. “Oh, I don’t know about that. We witnessed firsthand how the executive treats her. The overly touching, feeding each other deserts in plain sight, saying that he doesn’t know what he would do without her, we’ve seen it all.” 

Feeling his eyes widen, Chuuya then felt his hands turn practically white from his grip. Fuck, this is what he was trying to tell that bastard since the beginning. He was practically throwing himself on her in public all day and now Asagao was a target because of his reckless behavior. 

Why wasn’t he more careful, why didn’t he realize this was going to be the result? Or did he truly just not care about Asagao at all? How evil, leaving her to defend herself like this for attacks when she couldn’t handle it. 

What a misfortune it was, being labeled as the misfortune of being Dazai’s girlfriend. What a death wish it truly brought to such a poor innocent girl in an instant.  

He was so angry. No, he was absolutely furious for her that he felt his gravity ability glow even brighter only for the man to quickly close his fingers as Asa suffocated even faster. “Now, let’s not be so hasty. We have the executive and the girl. So it would be beneficial if you just went along with our requests instead of that? Otherwise who knows what could happen to her?” 

Snapping his fingers, one of the guys then pulled out a pair of handcuffs before throwing them on the floor by Chuuya’s feet as the boy looked at the metal with disgust. 

They wanted him to put on these ability suppressors and follow them to god knows where?  You’ve got to be kidding me. There was no way in hell he was going to do that. 

 But if he didn’t then that meant that Asagao would be taken to Dazai and inevitably killed when that mackerel expressed his indifference to her. 

Damn it, he really had no choice, did he? 

Looking back up to the girl in question, her scared expression then locked onto his in order for small tears to prick the corners of her eyes. “C-Chuuya..” 

And just like that, Chuuya immediately reached down in order to quickly latch the ability suppression cuffs on his wrist, disabling his desire to fight back as the men around him laughed at the defenseless boy. “Good choice.” 

Then before he could answer, the red strings disappeared around Asa’s throat leaving her to collapse unconsciously onto the cold ground as Chuuya felt a painful knock in the back of his head at the same time, meeting her straight onto the ground. 

Before he blacked out completely, the boy cursed Dazai’s name, reaching his hand out towards the unmoving auburn haired girl in question with a silent promise. 

Damn it, I’ll get you out of here, I promise.

----

(This is a fourth part mini arc that will all connect together. These are the first two parts and I'll post the second two together as well. Thanks for reading!)

[americanwh0resstuff]

-Relax, Princess-

Blaine DeBeers

Blaine DeBeers x reader oneshot

BOYFRIEND BLAINE WHO ISNT UR BOYFRIEND BUT ACTS LIKE IT CUZ HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO LET HIS GUARD DOWN‼️‼️‼️

Best playlist:

Word count: 1,616

Fluff ☁️ and smut ❤️‍🔥

Not connected to my other oneshots, this takes place when Blaine is human, reader is also human and doesn’t know what Blaine gets up to.

-Relax, Princess-

Today was rough, as much as I enjoy my job, sometimes it can be genuinely draining, 9-5 may be the standard, but I felt half asleep most of the day. Between demanding customers and the endless cleaning, I was exhausted.

I kept my eyes on the clock, counting down the seconds till I could clock out, the minute it turned to five o clock I was in the staff room, changing out of my uniform and packing up, I was done for the day.

I rang Blaine while walking to my car, secretly glad it went straight to voicemail, I didn’t have the energy.

I told him about my busy day and mentioned that I was just gonna crawl into bed as soon as I got home, I was shattered and I didn’t even want to eat.

I drove home with the radio turned down, music barely audible, hands glued to the wheel and my back hunched over, forcing myself to keep my eyes open. Luckily the ride home was quiet, not much traffic on the icy roads.

As soon as I got to my apartment building I darted for the lift, leaning up against the cool metal as it made its way to the fourth floor. My feet were dragging against the carpet and I could barely get my key in the door, when I finally got the damn thing open, with a slight kick to the bottom of the wood (stupid old apartment, nothing works smoothly), I immediately kicked my shoes off, dropped my back, and already started unbuttoning my jeans.

The second I saw my bed I sighed in relief, collapsing on it and wiggle it out of my clothes, climbing under the covers in just a T-shirt and panties.

I’m pretty sure I fell asleep straight away, not even bothering to take my makeup off or shower off the grime of scrubbing counters all day.

I slept peacefully until I woke up hearing my door crack open, still too sleepy to open my eyes I convinced myself it was just my imagination, a dream blending into reality in my dazed state, until I felt the bed dip at my feet. I looked up to see Blaine, well just his back, his black suit jacket clinging to his shoulder muscles as he bent over to untie his shoes, cursing softly as he dropped it to the floor, making a loud noise.

He looked behind him to see me sitting up slightly, smiling sleepily at him.

“Hey baby, go back to sleep, I’m sorry for waking you.” He shot me an apologetic look before turning back to his other shoe. Looking over at the alarm clock I realised it was 6:40, I must have slept for at-least an hour and a half already. I did what he said, too far gone to protest, and curling back into the warmth of my blanket, a harsh contrast to the cool winter air in the room.

His weight was lifted from the bed shortly as I heard his shrug off his jacket and remove his jeans, the familiar sound of his belt hitting the floor tipping me off to his plan. By the time he’d crawled in beside me I was ready to attach myself to him at the first chance, wrapping my arms around his chest and snuggling my face into the crook of his neck, he shuffled around, getting comfortable then wrapping his arms around me, giving me a reassuring squeeze and kissing my forehead.

I looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?”

He shushed me and stroked my hair.

“Get some sleep first, we’ll talk later.”

His fingers danced across my skin, tracing patterns on my arm. He held me so close, his body heat warming me up pleasantly in comparison to my futile attempts to wrap my thick duvet around me.

I fell back asleep within minutes, his presence immediately soothing me, softening my dreams for reoccurring nightmares to sweet memories of us together.

•••

I awoke less than an hour later, hunger building in my stomach, I pull away from Blaine tight embrace just enough to see his face, how his brows slightly furrowed every few seconds, and how he would almost open his mouth to speak before sighing and going back to being completely chilled out. He was obviously dreaming and I couldn’t help wonder what about, I smiled to myself and caressed his cheek, not wanting to wake him up suddenly, enjoying my view.

Eventually his eyes fluttered open, beautiful blue orbs clouded by sleep.

He grinned at the sight of me, leaning in to kiss me, it was soft and sweet, caring and gentle.

“You hungry?” I asked. “I was thinking of ordering in? I don’t wanna cook, dinner in bed?” He nodded and pulled me in tight to his chest, kissing my neck and jaw.

I giggled and pulled away, turning to my nightstand to grab my phone.

I laid on my back, Blaine’s head on my chest as I scrolled through the delivery options, we eventually agreed on Indian food and placed our orders, as soon as I put my phone down, Blaine leaned over me, kissing me once again.

“You had a rough day?”

I nodded and played with his hair.

“Yeah, it was just busy, I could barely keep my eyes open on my way home.” He frowned slightly, concerned.

“You gotta be careful baby, you could have called me and I would have picked you up.”

I smirked at him. “I did call you, you were busy!”

“Then call me again! I can’t leave my lady out in the cold!” We joked around, legs tangling between the sheets.

“I’m fine! And since when am I your lady?” He grinned and leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“So you don’t want to be mine?”

Giggles filled the room along with loving kisses and soft hand movements, which slowly became more and more heated.

“You know… we have 30 minute before the food arrives…” he looked at me seductively, hands trailing under my shirt, massaging circles into my hipbones.

“What do you suggest we do?” I asked, feigning obliviousness, teasing him, I know it drives him wild.

“Let me help you relax baby, you’ve had a hard day, I want to make you feel good…”

His hands made their way up to my chest, squeezing each inch of flesh softly, till they reached my breasts.

He smirked.

“No bra? Looks like you were expecting this.”

I rolled my eyes, the first this I do when I get in the door is rip my bra off, who sleeps in a bra?

“Don’t be so full of yourself!” I pinched his thigh playfully, gliding my hands over the backs of his legs.

He now had his entire body hovering over mine, one leg pressed between my thighs, so close yet so far from where I needed him.

I bucked my hips up as his right hand found my waist, signalling to him to speed things up.

“Needy are we?”

I moaned softly, his voice lowering made my stomach drop and the heat between my legs rise, I wanted him, no, needed him now, especially with the clock ticking on our food arriving.

“Please Blaine, don’t be a tease!”

I whined and leaned up to kiss him but he pulled away.

“But that’s what I do best…” He had a point, nothing drove me mad like his honey dripped voice in my ears, his soft hands caressing my legs, thighs and hips, the way his lips trace my jawline, nipping and biting right where I liked it.

“We haven’t got time!”

He took that as his que to dip his fingers under my lace panties, collecting the wetness that was now forming just from his words, he circled my clit, making me whimper and grip his arms strongly.

“Relax, Princess. I’ve got you…”

He stroked a finger through my folds, teasing my entrance slowly.

I watched in awe as he pushed up my t-shirt, trailing his tongue down my chest, over my navel and down to my hips, biting along my waistband. His fingers entered me with ease, slick from my own wetness, I moaned out his name, reaching for his hair.

He moved my underwear out of his way before attaching his lips to my clit, making me squirm and whimper, unbearable pleasure taking over my body, I could no longer feel the cold that danced across my skin, I couldn’t hear the cars driving past my window, honking their horns and slamming on breaks.

I didn’t care about anything around me, just how I feel right in this moment.

He moved his fingers at at a slow but hard pace, curling his fingers just right, hitting the spot that makes my back arch and legs tense up, I couldn’t hold back my moans, pulling his hair tightly while screaming his name.

“Oh Blaine, fuck, that feels so good!” He moaned at my words, sending vibrations through my core, I couldn’t hold back now.

“Fuck your gonna make m-“ I couldn’t even finish my sentence before coming around his fingers, I pulled him up to my face and kissed him hard, whispering “thank you”’s between each breath.

I sat upright, ready to please him in any way he wanted, he cut me off before I could even open my mouth.

“Go take shower baby, we can continue after dinner.” He winked at me and kissed my cheek, tapping my phone screen to see that our delivery was on its way.

I nodded and hugged him, holding him impossibly tight.

“You’re the best…”

[imkittyjustkitty]

Kitty's Daily Pride — Day 8

prompt ; (gender) envy

pairings ; Ethan Green x Bestfriend!Reader

summary ; It's been more than a day since you've last heard from your best friend Ethan, or from anyone for that matter. Something's not right.

+ reader is gender neutral & no mentions of y/n

warnings ; none i think, reader's freaking out, its just kinda spooky but no violence or anything like that, although the death of many characters is implied/speculated

genre ; angst

word count ; 902

A/N ; are people noticing how obscurely my fics end up relating to the original prompt bc i am nsndfsjk, its okay though because im proud of this ! :D also im trying to include more queer aspects to the stories bc this is for pride after all, sometimes tho i just get an idea i like and run w it lmao !!

also i plan on writing a part 2/bonus little thing either today or tomorrow which i'll link here once i post it !!

do not steal, repost, or redistribute my work in any way.

The last time you’d heard from Ethan was one day, 2 hours, and 38 minutes ago. The longest you and Ethan had been apart or not messaged each other up until now was like 8 hours, at the very most a day. To say that you were worried would be an understatement.

It was just past 7 at night. The amount of times you'd tried to call Ethan's phone was astronomical, but every time you were met with an automated message, not even his voicemail message that you'd grown used to, which somehow made you even more worried.

It was 8:06 now. Not being able to reach Ethan (although you did still try every half an hour or so, just in case), you tried calling anyone else you could think of. The obvious choice was to call his girlfriend Lex, maybe the two of them finally got on their way to California and Ethan had just forgotten his phone, not a very likely occurrence but you were clinging to the theory like it was your lifeline. So you called her, quite a few times, maybe too many, but she never answered. If you weren't worried before, now you definitely were.

But it'll be okay, you hadn't even called his parents yet, so he was probably just with them. Maybe he was grounded and that's why he wasn't answering, right?

It was 8:41 now, and you called his parents, his dad first. You were gripping the phone so hard that your hands started to shake, the ringing of the phone echoing through your head as you quietly pleaded for Ethan's dad to pick up.

No answer. At this point the only thing keeping you sane, the only reason you hadn't completely lost it, was unlikely reasoning. You'd pulled out a scrap piece of paper with a list of names, and why they wouldn't have picked up, it gave you a feeling that was something like hope. So far your list read: Ethan - grounded, Lex - with hannah or maybe phone bill expired (?), Ethan's dad - at work ??

They were reasonable explanations, all things that on any other day you wouldn't so much as bat an eye at. All things that you wouldn't question were there not a pit of suspicion swirling through your stomach and anxiety aching your every bone. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

But if something was wrong, you had zero fucking clue on how to handle it. So what did you do? You continued to call people in the hope of reaching Ethan. This provided the only string that kept you tied to reality, holding onto the hope that the next person you called would explain everything and all would be back to normal.

9:01. You called Ethan's mother, a woman who you'd always relied on to pick up calls straight away. No answer.

9:13. You called Frank fucking Pricely, a person you'd met maybe twice, once when applying for a job at Toy Zone, and for the second time (which really didn't count), but who you'd seen briefly when picking Lex up from her job. And of course the asshole didn't answer your call.

You were running out of what little hope you had left, when you remembered perhaps the one other person Lex (and by extension Ethan) associated with. Your old shop teacher, Mr Houston.

9:34. You rang his number, listening to the dial, waiting for the inevitable 'the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable' message. Once, twice, your phone rang, until...

It stopped ringing, and you were staring right at a screen where the call timer started counting.

You froze. You didn't want to of course, your whole being was begging you to just scream out all your questions, but your throat was blocked and your hands shook so much that your phone dropped right out of your hands. falling, falling until it hit the ground.

You heard a crack but couldn't bring yourself to look down.

"Hey there."

Your eyes widened.

A laugh crackled through your now half-broken phone speaker, "Don't be afraid."

Okay fuck that now you were definitely afraid.

"Who," your voice wavered, revealing just how terrified you were, whoever this was, they sounded eerily familiar, "Who are you."

"Mmmm good question..."

A knock on your bedroom door. Your body flooded with terror.

The door flew open, crashing into the wall, right of it's hinges, revealing a shadowed figure.

The figure was the same height as Ethan, the figure's hair looked just like how you remembered Ethan's to be, the figure stood like Ethan would, with a carefree appearance, hands in it's pockets as it grins at you. And that's what breaks the illusion, that sickening grin. It's the kind that screams ill intent, the kind that makes your blood boil and stomach churn.

That is not Ethan Green.

And now you know, Ethan's not coming back, you can feel it, the truth floats through the air, palpable and headache-inducing. No matter how many people you call desperately, no how matter how many dial tones ring through your phone, no matter hard you wish for this to all be some sort of fever dream.

The feeling you were trying so hard to hide under layers of conspiracy and empty hope is now flung in front of your eyes unwaveringly, Ethan's gone, and he's not coming back.

reblogs are appreciated so much !!

[jocrude]

The Bridge, The Summit

*Author’s Note: This story is from a couple years ago, I wrote it for my 12th Grade English Class.*

The dingy walls of Clint Godwin’s studio flat reminded him of a sort of pit. They reminded him of a sort of fantastic prison. As he lay supine on his bed, under the polyester blankets and the worn cotton sheets but above the uncovered box-spring and the pallet bedframe, the observation began to grow gravid; an image began to gestate. The walls seemed to take on a stony quality. They seemed to slope slightly inwards, so that one couldn’t climb up them without slipping and falling down

He hadn’t been outside in what seemed like ages. All he wanted was to get back to Uni, get back in the swing of things. Get out a bit and see the lads again, his school friends, their friends, his classmates and the lads at the School Gym and the Boxing club and all. True, it had been only one week since Christmas break began at South Victoria National University, but the week was not keen to let go of a single one of its seconds without a fight. It lasted as long as it possibly could. And it would last two more weeks still, weeks that would cling to life like a cornered prey animal, weeks that would grow like a tree, so slowly it seems to be eternal though it grows and changes and dies in at least a little way with every second.

The lack of social pressure had caused Clint to slip somewhat as well. His head itched, going as he had without a shower for a few days, and his eczema was flaring up again. His flat was filthy, of course. Dirty clothes lined the floor, in rough piles, waiting to be picked up and put on again. Cups and tins of energy drinks were stacked on his bedside table, and in the center of the little display a day-by-day pill container that Clint mostly hadn’t been using. He took the mood stabilisers when he could be arsed to take them, and the ADHD pills when he needed a pick-me-up. Apart from that he didn’t really bother.

Clint took in all the sights of his room, letting his mind wander and form the images and connections on his own. He was in that state, where his body begged for sleep but the caffeine and the adderall stopped up the little hole that it came out of. He thought a hundred half-formed thoughts, lay in quiet unease, tried to coax a little sleep out of his system by listening to the sounds of the flat. He zeroed in on the traffic outside, the quiet hum of his computer, the birds...Birds? It can’t be that late. Clint rolled onto his side and picked his phone up from the floor. It was 6:00, Friday. He had received a call in the night. He opened the voicemail: an automated message from a telemarketer. At least they cared enough to ring him.

Still dressed in dirty sweats and a too-large shirt, several days of stubble on his face, Clint walked down the hill to the shop on the corner. He bought a soda for a dollar, although he didn’t really want one. Mostly he just needed an excuse to get him out of the house. He paused at the crossing. Normally, the lights here taking as long as they did to change, he just looked for traffic and crossed, but today he paused. He pulled out his phone, looked at his contacts. He was dying for a bit of company. He sent a text, copy-and-pasted, to each of his friends. “Hey, are you down to do anything? I might have a couple things to do this weekend but lemme check my schedule. Text me back when you get this.”

The sun was going down again. A few had replied. Of course they’d love to get together sometime but they were very busy and they already made plans and their relatives… Clint got home from his evening walk down the block, and fell into his bed. He looked at his contacts again. All had declined or else left him on read. Hang on, thought Clint, What about Ryan? I forgot to text him. Ryan was an old mate of Clint’s, all the way back to his 9th year of school when his family had moved out to the Capitol. The reply, this time, came quickly. “Sure mate, I’d love to do something. What did you have in mind?” Excited and energised like he’d not been all week, Clint’s fingers flew across the phone’s keyboard.

Excellent. The Electric Mistress, a club about twenty minutes away by train, was hosting a few groups.

Clint:Poptones is back on?

Ryan: Yeahm8. It’s been back on for a while. HTRK actually performed a few weeks ago, I wish I’d found out sooner so I could go with you.

Clint: Ah kicking myself rn. If I’d have heard I would have gone earlier too.

Poptones was a programme that the EM used to do, every other Saturday night, dedicated to all the actually good music that had come out since the 80s and all the modern stuff that tried to imitate it. Most of the time they’d have some DJ or other playing the Psychedelic Furs and XMal Deutschland and all that, mopey curley-haired brits in blazers and patent shoes and drainpipe jeans, skinny German speed-heads with hair half as big as they were, glorious stuff. Occasionally they’d get a few modern bands with the same energy to play live. The programme had shut down a few months back, for reasons not entirely clear. It had left somewhat of a hole in Clint and Ryan’s lives.

That was how they bonded, all the way back in 9th year. Clint showed up to school with a handmade Einsturzende Neubauten pin stuck to his backpack, hoping pretty girls would ask him about it so he wouldn’t have to approach them, and then they’d be impressed by his fawning over awful-sounding pretentious bands from the 80’s that they were also really into, and then they’d fall in love with him. Ryan was not a pretty girl and, barring an awkward moment involving a game of charades gone far out of hand, had never shown any romantic attraction to Clint. Nonetheless, they bonded over awful-sounding pretentious bands from the 80’s and became fast friends.

That was where the EM came into their lives. It played the exact sort of stuff they liked, every other Saturday night. They’d grab a quick bite at “Ruth’s WORLD’S BEST Eatery,” an altogether mediocre fast-food restaurant that got a lot of traffic because it was the only one near the station. Then they’d get on the train, hopping over the turnstile in full view of the bored attendee who let them do it because he wasn’t paid enough to do anything other than read his phone. The club had an age restriction, of course, but they went to an online movie prop store and bought some fake passports. The passports had “NOT LEGITIMATE. FOR FILM USE ONLY.” Printed on them, but by covering it up with their thumbs and acting like nothing was wrong, they got in anyways. They had a clever scheme to not get caught sneaking out: Clint would tell his family he was sleeping over at Ryan’s, and Ryan would tell his family he was sleeping over at Clint’s. So with a few hours to kill until they had to head back, they’d take the train out to the dam, near Kilmarnock Heads, and just walk along the old fire roads and disused rail lines and all.

Time seemed not to exist, or at least not to care that it existed, on those long nights. Clint loved those trails, those fire roads, those rail lines, detritus from the long construction of the Dam that ran for ten years and was never used again when the Nuclear Plant was put up. The lines they left in the earth reminded him of a scrap from a lonely stranger’s diary, torn out and balled up and thrown away and then found by chance and pored over out of curiosity by somebody with no stake in or interest in or even knowledge of this stranger’s life.

Ryan: So that’s settled then. Saturday night.

Clint: Bite to eat at Ruth’s, catch the train, EM for a bit, then finish up at the Dam.

Ryan: Just like old times.

Clint was happy, properly happy, for the first time in ages. He hadn’t slept all night but he was full of energy. He’d picked up the clothes from the floor, thrown away the old tins and washed the cups and this and that and the other, now all that was left was to take a shower and get ready for the evening. He let the warm water hit him, pausing for a while and just enjoying the sensation. He poured a dollop of shampoo onto his hands, and struggled to rake his hands through his greasy mop of hair as he rubbed it into his scalp. He followed it with conditioner and a comb, then lathered himself up with some new lavender soap he’d bought on his way home. He stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror. Bits of wet hair caked the bowl of the sink as he scraped the stubble from his jaw. He put a bit of product into his hair, then towelled it dry with just enough care to make it look like he didn’t care how it looked. He put on some cream to hide the eczema, then got dressed up.

He admired himself in the mirror. He’d been a bit chubby throughout high school, but hitting the gym, taking up boxing, and not eating as much as he should’ve had shaped him up. There he was, curly-haired, dressed in a blazer and patent shoes and drainpipe jeans. He put his wallet and whatnot in his pocket, ready to go out and for God’s sake have a bit of fun for a change. He had about 20 minutes to kill before he had to leave, so he flicked through his phone, and checked through his servers. He saw that Ryan had sent him a text.

Ryan: I’m really sorry, but I’ve got more homework than I’ve realised and can’t make it. Hope you have fun, cheers.

The Club wasn’t very packed tonight. There were maybe twenty guests total. The music blended together, and a few people danced rather awkwardly. Most were just sitting in the booths in the back, Clint included. He had, after a lengthy and quite vulgar tirade against Ryan that he typed out but didn’t dare send to him, decided he would go on his own. But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like old times. He stared sourly into his cup, water because he didn’t feel like drinking. There was a live band playing this time, a local band from one of the other cities. Trash. The singer sang in every key except the one he was supposed to sing in, the guitarists couldn’t seem to hear the bassist, and the bassist seemed like he could hear the drums but chose to ignore them. He caught a glimpse of a pretty girl smiling at him, so he caught her eye and smiled back. She stopped smiling. Clint rose from his seat and decided to leave the club. It’s the worst feeling in the world, Clint decided. Being alone in a crowd. He took the train out to the Dam.

Just remember, Clint, that’s life. That was what his Mum had always told him when times were tough. The train’s intercom announced the last stop. There was only one other person on the train, a woman who got off just as he did. That’s life, it’s not always gonna turn out the way you want it. He walked down the main street, through the side street, and up the hill where the road became rough and unpaved. The trailhead was just up that way. It has its ups and downs. He saw the woman again. She turned left at the trailhead, he turned right. And sure, it might have been having more downs than ups lately.

He arrived at the first of his and Ryan’s old haunts. Up a steep hill, more of a cliff really, you could just spot a small concrete dome with a hatch in the middle. They reckoned it was an entrance to the Dam’s “secret room.” That was an old local legend. When the dam was shut down, most of the dam was left more or less open to the public, or at least any member of the public with a pair of bolt cutters and a healthy disregard for trespassing laws. But there was one segment of the dam that had been sealed shut with concrete, inaccessible from the outside. This was the “secret room,” and rumours had flown that there was something very valuable or very secret or both hidden inside.

Clint and Ryan had done some research down at the library, and found that the location of the little hatch corresponded roughly to an emergency exit that led out of the secret room. The hatch looked to be rusted shut, and any ladders leading up there had long since disappeared, salvaged by junkies or swallowed by a mudslide, something like that. Ryan had somehow managed to procure a satchel full of pyrotechnic chemicals from his cousin who worked at the Tillways Steelworks down in New Manchester, and Clint had “borrowed” all sorts of climbing equipment from the van his Uncle drove for the tree surgeon’s business. But they never could make their way up that cliff and blow the hatch open.

Just remember Clint, that’s life.

He arrived at the second of his and Ryan’s old haunts, a clearing in the trees that led to a creek. It was a bit out of the way, practically invisible from the main trail. The thin, snaky, barely-there path that you needed to get there was treacherous, to say the least, but Clint and Ryan came to know it like the streets where they lived. They liked to swim there, or just relax in the water. They’d bring their friends along, and they’d spend all day in that little secret brook. For a while anyways. The creek dried up. Clint didn’t really know how, but it did.

Just Remember Clint, that’s life.

He arrived at the third of his and Ryan’s old haunts, a large pipe and a concrete channel that the local skaters frequented.

Clint remembered when him and Ryan, in a bid to look cool for the girls at school, got into skateboarding. They came here during long summer days and cruised around, at first only caring for the aesthetic of it but quickly coming to enjoy it as an activity on its own. Clint remembered the butterflies rising in his stomach as he looked down the hill, the feeling of the breeze as he took a deep breath in and kicked forward and bombed down the drainage channel. That was great. Whatever happened to that? Clint had kept at it for a few months, then stopped doing it for a few months to pursue whatever new fad caught his eye. He tried to pick it up again a couple times afterwards, but never could do it like he used to be able to.

Just remember Clint, that’s life. Just as you think you’ve summitted, just as you think you’ve gotten out of the pit, you’ll fall back down again. Maybe it’s no fault of your own, maybe it’s your own fault. But in the end there’s not much difference between helplessness you create and helplessness you’re given. Make a good friend of failure, Clint. It’s the one thing that’s not going to leave you. Failure, disappointment, falling again and again to the bottom of an inwards-sloping pit whose walls you’ll never scale, then licking your wounds and trying again though you know full well what the result will be. That’s life.

Finally, Clint reached the bridge. The bridge was an old, disused railway bridge, popular among hikers. It gave views of the Capitol River, winding into the city. The city, really, wasn’t very far away, but from here, from this height, it made you wonder how you could see it at all. Clint gazed at the city. He thought about how it used to feel, when he’d stare at the city and time would seem to freeze. It was like that now, only no longer pleasant. Time had become glacial ever since Uni had ended. He wanted more than anything to sleep and wake up in a couple weeks. But what would that solve? His friends couldn’t be bothered to see him during Christmas break when they had all their time free, why would they start caring when school started again? And even with all the time in the world, Never would life begin to care about him and deal him a proper hand, never would he begin to care about himself and learn to play properly. Never would he summit. And you can only fall so many times before you’re unable to get back up.

Just remember, Clint, that’s life.

[kofubisha]

the offer

a stormy evening. an uninvited guest.

[this fic was written for @millenniumzine: a charity zine celebrating the tenth anniversary of noragami's serialization. there are just a few copies left!!!]

When Hiyori walked into the kitchen, she did not expect to find Yato there.

She certainly did not expect to find him making himself comfortable at the table, propping his feet up on its pristine surface and tipping back what looked suspiciously like a can of her father’s preferred after-work beer. She scowled in his direction until he reluctantly removed his feet from the table.

“Daikoku kicked me out,” Yato said, before she could ask.

“He probably had a good reason.”

Hiyori strode across the kitchen, plucked the can out of his grip, and emptied it straight into the sink. “You have a problem.”

Yato smacked his lips unrepentantly. “It’s not my fault your dad has fantastic taste in booze.”

Hiyori cast him a withering look as she sat down. “How many bottles of coins do you think it would take to cover all the alcohol you’ve ‘borrowed’ off various members of my family?”

Yato winced at the prospect. Hiyori, however, had at last noticed what was missing from the room.

“Where’s Yukine?” she asked.

“Daikoku didn’t kick him out.”

Despite his dejected tone, Yato didn’t look particularly sad. He cast his eyes sideways out the window, where the sky was the color of an old bruise.

As if on cue, a single raindrop struck the window. Several more followed, plinking harmlessly against the glass. Seconds later, the sky seemed to swing open, unleashing a cascade of water that hammered the roof like ammunition. Hiyori shuddered at the thought of venturing outside.

Yato seemed to have the same idea, because when he looked back at her his eyes were as full of innocence as a sacrificial lamb’s.

“You wouldn’t make me walk home in this, would you, Hiyori?” he pleaded.

Hiyori just shivered and scrubbed her shoulders. The temperature in the kitchen had already dropped by several degrees. A warm drink would soon fix that. She rose from the table and went to the cupboards, rummaging for a cup.

“Hiyoriiii…” Yato whined.

Hiyori sighed and brought out a second mug. After all, her mother had raised her to be courteous.

As she moved around the kitchen pouring water and lighting the stove under the kettle, the ferocity of the rain outside seemed to fade, if only in her own ears. She could feel Yato watching her. His attention, though obvious, wasn’t unpleasant. At times, Hiyori got the sense that he was a little fascinated by this sort of domestic ritual. She wondered how many others had ever offered him such simple favors.

From the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw the whipping branches of trees outside the window. The wind had risen to a boisterous gale, battering the windows with sheets of water.

“I hope everyone is safe inside,” she murmured, with a thought for her traveling parents and for Masaomi, who was probably holed up in one of his friend’s leaky apartments. Carrying the two mugs over to the table, she again sat down across from Yato.

“Can you believe this, Hiyori?” he held his phone up at her, the screen bright in her face. She blinked.

“…What?”

“No texts! Not even one angry voicemail! Does he care if I get struck by freak lightning and die?!”

Hiyori’s brain slowly caught up with Yato’s chaotic train of thought.

“I’m sure Yukine knows you’re here,” she said comfortingly, unable to suppress a smile at his indignation.

The volume of the wind outside rose sharply. It howled around the eaves of the house like a starving animal. The mournful noise shuddered down Hiyori’s spine, and she curled her shoulders inward around her cup.

“It sounds horrible out there,” she murmured.

At the very moment Yato opened his mouth to respond, the kitchen plunged into darkness.

Before Hiyori could do more than gasp, there was the soft click of a cigarette lighter. Yato’s face appeared, bathed in flickering yellow.

“Well, isn’t this creepy?” he asked. His voice was full of barely repressed mischief. “It’s okay Hiyori, you can cling to me if you’re scared.”

Hiyori’s cheeks grew warm. She pushed herself out of the chair with a clatter and marched across the kitchen.

“This happens all the time,” she shot back at him. “The house is old. We have candles in every room.”

“Then what’s taking you so long?” Yato asked. She could hear the smirk in his voice and Hiyori grit her teeth, fumbling in the kitchen drawers for the expected candles.

When she returned, pointedly not making eye contact with Yato, she set her findings on the table: a single, well-used tea light that, based on the remaining wax, promised fifteen minutes of illumination at most.

“Not very disaster-prepared, are you?” Yato asked. A question Hiyori did not dignify with a response.

Yato lit the candle, then snuffed the cigarette lighter and replaced it in his pocket. The anemic glow did very little to dispel the shadows in the room, but it was a more steady source than the lighter’s open flame.

“This is almost as bad as one of Kofuku’s,” Hiyori observed, staring out the window into the roaring storm. The old house was sturdy enough, but that didn’t stop its ancient bones from shivering and groaning with each savage gust.

Yato eyed Hiyori’s white-knuckled grip on the mug. He leaned over the table toward her, and she felt her cheeks heating up again under the keenness of his gaze.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said. Hiyori blinked.

“Your offer?”

An odd expression flashed across Yato’s face. It was almost sheepish, but gone before Hiyori could make anything more of it.

“The offer for you to cling to m—”

“Oh, that one,” she said. “No thanks.”

Yato clapped a hand to his chest in exaggerated fashion, collapsing back into the chair with a defeated exhale. Hiyori hoped the darkness of the room concealed her raging blush.

“One day, Hiyori,” he said, stirring his tea. “You’re going to beg for my godly favor, and I won’t be there to help you.”

She almost laughed in his face.

“Yato. I have.”

The corner of his mouth tugged downward.

“I would definitely remember that,” he said, and Hiyori narrowed her eyes.

“You don’t remember when you took my money, evaded my calls, and used my vulnerabilities to your own advantage?”

Yato winced. “‘Used’ is a harsh word.”

“Would ‘exploited’ be more accurate?”

He fell silent at that, which bothered her. Hiyori wasn’t used to getting the last word.

“I guess it would,” he said. His voice was light, and if Hiyori could have seen his expression she might have believed it a joke. But his eyes were in shadow, and the shape of his mouth was flat and humorless.

“What I meant…”

Her words trailed off. Hiyori desperately wished for Yukine to be there. She didn’t know why the mood had altered, nor why the air seemed to thicken in her mouth when she tried to speak.

“I just meant that…you’ve already helped me.”

Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper at the end, and her scalp tingled with shame. Why was this such an awkward admission? She’d told him as much before. Hiyori’s ears grew impossibly hotter as she remembered how effortlessly—how proudly she’d claimed him as her god of fortune.

This was different.

The struggling flame from the tea light had been barely enough to illuminate their faces, and as the seconds ticked by, its glow was weakening.

She dared to hope Yato hadn’t heard her.

“Hiyori.”

Her head snapped up. Yato’s voice was startlingly close. He leaned toward her again, both elbows resting on the table. Hiyori made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She wondered, sometimes, how anyone could think blue eyes cold.

“You’re kind,” he said, simply.

Hiyori made an embarrassing sound in the back of her throat. To escape Yato’s eyes, she hid her steaming face in her mug and took an ambitious gulp of what turned out to be very cold, bitter tea.

Spluttering, she set her cup back on the table and reached for Yato’s, horrified when she saw he had already consumed its entire contents.

“Why did you drink the whole thing?!” she wailed, brandishing the empty cup in Yato’s face.

“I thought it was fine,” he said.

Hiyori glared at him, inexplicably furious. She wasn’t sure toward whom that anger was directed, but it felt more substantial than a dispute over cold tea.

At that moment, the candle went out.

Yato cursed—colorfully but quietly—and she heard the lighter flick again. The candle flared once, then went out.

Hiyori blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness. Outside, the tempest was amassing its forces. There was no lightning in this storm: only rain, wind, and utter dark.

It was the kind of storm that spawned monsters, and Hiyori, despite herself, was afraid of it.

“I’m sure we have a flashlight,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Before Hiyori could even lurch out of her chair, a set of fingers closed around her wrist. She froze. Surely, surely, Yato could feel the wild hammering of her blood beneath his thumb.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

Hiyori didn’t immediately respond. She was stunned at how unexpectedly warm his hand felt against hers. Interpreting her silence as a denial, Yato immediately withdrew, and Hiyori’s stomach plunged horribly at the loss of contact.

“No, w—”

She barely had to speak before his hand returned, closing gently around her wrist. She allowed him to move her fingers so that they interlocked with his. The tension began to drain out of her body, and Hiyori dared not question why.

“This doesn’t count,” she heard herself blurt.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew Yato was looking at her, confused. Gathering herself as best she could, Hiyori said:

“This doesn’t count towards your offer.”

Yato didn’t respond immediately, but his fingers tightened around hers. A conversation like this really would be impossible if she could see him.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replied. “That’s why I’m not charging.”

The fondness in Yato’s voice set her ears aflame, and she lost any ready response she might have had. She was almost glad that she couldn’t see his expression

The pressure of his hand around hers was gentle. He cradled it like it was an exquisite thing. Tingling warmth seemed to spread from her chest through her whole body: not the heat of embarrassment, but something tender and protective. Something that made moisture spring to her eyes, and urged her to curl her fingers tighter around Yato’s own.

A little longer, Hiyori thought. She held Yato’s hand tight in hers, and she prayed to the storm.

Just a little bit longer like this.

[nahoyaglock]

WHEN I STOP BREATHING..

pairings! ushijima x reader

summary! sitting on the beach, so close to each other they can hear each other’s heartbeats. They both smile and they watch the world end right in front of them, reminiscing on all they’ve been through together. Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

genre! angst

word count! didnt bother actually counting so ill estimate maybe 2000+

warnings! end of the world, death, murder mention, slight ooc ushijima idk its the end of the world so pff

a/n! uh idk i wanna hurt people, sorry if this is bad i havent written in a while :p i feel like the beginning was really good, the middle was ass and the end was okay but hoh im happy enough w this. I also cried writing this ngl lmaoo also did not fix any errors so my bad

You knew it was coming, you both did. New reports, articles, it was trending on all social media platforms. It was unavoidable, what could you do but waste away your last few days, watching old shows you watched as a kid, harsh knocks and cries from your doors from friends and family. You couldnt face them, you just wanted to drown out the thought of what was coming the next few hours of the day.

You had woken up and sluggishly dragged yourself from the comfort of your bed to your dirty kitchen, littered with dirty dishes and some uneaten food that youd try to make, but didn't have the stomach to eat. Your phone rang atleast every hour or two, many unanswered calls and long voicemails you couldnt bother to listen to.

There was a knock on your door, and you sighed, not wanting to bother with facing the person at the door. You turned on your heels, about to head to your room when you heard the voice call out to you.

"y/n."

Out of all the people why did it have to be him. You bit your lip and let out shaky breaths. You took another step, freezing at another set of knocks. The last persom you wanted to see was your boyfriend.

"y/n let me in or ill tear this door down." His voice was stern, laced with seriousness and slight concern. You wanted to open it, let him in and crumble into his arms, but it hurt so bad.

"Go away." You spoke, loud enough to be heard through the door, but not loud enough to be a yell.

"y/n."

You hesitantly walked to the door, unlocking the bottom lock, the top lock remaining unlocked, too bothersome for you to have delt with anyways. At the sound of the click of the locks he opened the door with quick motions, while also being careful not to knock you over.

At the sight of his big frame you felt like the world had just stabbed you through the chest 28 times. You backed up with quick steps are your boyfriend reached out to hug you, scared that his touch would break down your facade. You tripped over your own feet, landing hard on your butt.

"Ush.. Ushijima," you started, not knowing exactly what you were trying to say, "Please dont touch me."

His heart sank when he saw you, lifeless and so frail. He guessed you havent been getting much sleep- or maybe too much sleep, and not eating as he took a quick glance towards the food littered kitchen counter.

It wasnt any better for you, seeing your normally cold and calm boyfriend with a worried expression and eye bags that made it obvious he hasnt got much sleep either.

You pull yourself up, your eyes boring through your boyfriends abdomen as you bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, and to also keep yourself from falling apart. "What do you want?"

"y/n. Dont be cold to me." It wasnt a question, but it wasnt a demand. "Sorry," you mumbled, leaving you two in silence for a while.

"Ushi, you should go home," you said, feeling your heart race, every second you spent in his presence, under his gaze, killed you. "You should call Tendou or something."

"Toshi." He said, making your head shoot up, looking him in his eyes, seeing a tear roll down his cheek, his face remaining mostly emotionless, fear slightly present in his eyes. "Please keep calling me Toshi."

You felt a pang in your heart, suddenly the reality of things hitting you. You were the only one going through this, you knew this but never gave it more than a mere thought. He was scared, he didnt know what he was doing, he just knew to find comfort in you, like youve told him to for many years into your relationship.

"Toshi," you breathed, reaching up to wipe the tear from his cheek, "Toshi lets go somewhere."

You never felt the need to go outside, wanting to be isolated, but being here with your boyfriend, you felt like running away, wanting to escape from the dark pit of your home. "Lets go to the beach"

"y/n–"

"Lets go. Lets go, right.. right now Toshi," you felt as if though youve felt shoked by lightning, like you suddenly got hit with some sugar rush.

"We dont have time–"

"We do Toshi, we do, we do," you saw the corner of his lips raise up into a small smile. He hated seeing you like this but he was glad you were more alive than you were minutes before. You knew this, what he was thinking, and you knew his smile had so much sadness behind it, "we have time, lets go, lets go!"

You grabbed his hand and dragged him out of your apartment, not bothering to change from your days out clothing or close the door behind you. It wouldnt matter in another hour anyways.

The ride there was mostly silent, songs playing quietly on the radio. You watched as you passed through the town, the streets were slightly empty, stores looked run down, some stores even tore up and empty.

"Has it been like this since.. since the announcement?" You mumbled, earning a hum for Ushijima.

"Yeah, yeah it has." He knew that you didnt go out, and he was slightly grateful for it. The world went to shit after the announcement, many lootings, murders and other various crimes being commited.

"Im glad your safe Toshi," you spoke into your palm.

"Im glad your safe too."

The ride went on in silence until you got to the beach. You both climbed out of the car, the beautiful blue sea sparkling under the sunny sky. It was funny how such a depressing day could look so so beautiful.

"Hmm, this is the beach we went to with the team our senior year, remember?" He asked and turned to face you. The fear in his eyes was much more evident in the light, along with signs of personal neglict. He hasnt been taking good care of himself either.

You walk around the front of the car to grab his hand, your small hands tracing light circles on his rough palms before linking your hands together, giving him a comforting squeeze. "I remember."

He let out a shaky breath he didnt know he was holding in, and you two found a nice spot on the beach to sit and watch the sky. "Toshi, do you remember the time goshiki got gummy bears stuck in his nose?"

He looked at you, and his face softened, "yeah. Yeah i do." He let out a small chuckle at the thought of his old teammates. "Do you remember when Tendou took my water bottle and filled it with really sour lemonade?" He asked, you could hear his voice unravel into a more comfortable tone, instead of one holding in so much hurt and fear.

"Ha, i actually helped him with that you know?" You spoke up, a small grin on your lips as your boyfriend grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him. "We'll its okay, because it was 2 years ago."

It had been 2 years. 2 years since you had become shiratorizawas manager, 2 years since you made the number 1 ace fall head over heels for you, 2 years since you had went on your first date with him.

"2 years, its been so long." You laid your head on Ushijimas arm, feeling tired. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss atop your head.

"Thats when we first started dating," you spoke, shoulders shaking with a small laugh, "i would've never imagined to have the nations number 1 ace fall so madly in love with me." You laughed and turned to your boyfriend to continue your teasing, but stopped when you saw him looking back at you.

He couldn't respond with anything more than a mere chuckle, tears now streaming down his cheeks. You bit your lip, scooting closer to him so you were in his lap, wrapping your arms around his large stature.

"Toshi, I love you." It was no more than a whisper and he placed a warm, loving kiss to your temple, rubbing your back softly as he let out a shaky laugh.

"y/n god, you make it so hard not to cry." He whispered in an unstable tone, resting his head atop yours. "I love you too."

This was how it was, clinging to the other and sharing old tales of your days spent with Ushijima and the boys, tales of times tendou had snuck out of the dorms and got caught by washijou, or when goshiki cut his bangs too short, or how Ushijima brought your parents a half eaten watermelon as a gift.

Those last moments spent with laughs and tears, kisses and hugs, warmth and comfort, those were your best memories. Despite the fate to cross you, Ushijima and everyone else in the world, you felt like you could smile for the first time.

You would smile alot, but it felt different this time. You convinced yourself that it was just because you had been withering away for the past days, but you knew it was because you felt free.

You had no worries in the moment with your lover, you didnt need to think about getting up for work the next day, or how you would afford next months rent. You felt like the largest weight had been lifted off of you, and you could really smile for the first time.

There was a slightly rumble if the ground that had made you and Ushijima go silent. You pulled away from your spot in the crook of his neck to look at him, fear still in his eyes.

"I dont wanna die," he chuckled out, "but im not sad." He drew small shapes into your hips with his thumbs, looking onto your laps instead of your face, and you just stared at him.

His usually stoic face was calmed, relaxed, his jaw unclenched and his eyes soft. You hadnt seen so many emotions from your boyfriend so much, it was almost scary. But he looked so gorgeous, he was your world.

"Wakatoshi Ushijima, you know," your placed your hands on both sides of his face, "it doesnt matter what happens to this world, because," you placed a passionate kiss to his lips, the tears finally falling from your eyes, "you, you're my world Toshi."

He let out a noise that was similar to a choke, tears rolling down the apple of his cheeks as he placed his forehead to yours, letting his shoulders shake with hard sobs. Loud crashes, screams and car alarms had let you know it was coming, the end of the world.

The last thing you saw was Ushijima, smiling snd crying, mouthing out one last 'I love you'.

Why does the end of the world look so beautiful?

© tomura-heart — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, or copying is not allowed. do not translate. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

[graceloveswolves]

Paul Lahote Oneshot

*Since a lot of you guys really liked my requested preference, here’s the second part you guys have been asking for! There will be more do not worry! I have been having a busy few weeks and I’m also working on a few other requests so please stay tuned!*

@melinsk1 @cookiecakeslive @takk-foralt @dillybuggg @britty443​ @oi-itsemily​ @eviction-notice-no666​ @prettyinblack231​

___________________________________________________________

  It’s been two weeks...   And I’ve never felt so dead. Like a part of my soul has been detached, left in my hometown of Forks, just rotting away. I think I’m going crazy, after all the years of mistreatment from my old family and my unstable emotions, I think I’ve finally drove myself over the cliff of insanity. Looking back at my life in Forks, I assume that Jacob and his family are what had been my anchor, keeping me held down and away from my lonely thoughts and self hate.   Leaving me nothing but painful memories and broken promises, this heart break has probably been the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I had puffy, swollen eyes all week, ever since I had moved here to be honest. Crying myself to sleep, if I slept. I had been too scared of the nightmares to fall asleep. Every tiny thing triggering me from a smell, a song, a color, any reference from my old life back in Forks, and I would start balling, falling apart all over again. I was left with nothing.

  Only my dreams, which weirdly consisted of the stranger I had bumped into, Paul Lahote. I’m not sure what my subconscious had taken from him, but I wish to god it would stop. Every night I would dream about him, about the events that had took place in front of Jacob’s yard. And weirdly enough I thought about the stranger all the time. What it would have been like to be his friend back then, to have known him like Jacob did, or whatever him and his weird cult had done back then.

   But now... all I have is this stupid house my ‘new’  family bought for me in Texas. Stuck alone, while my ‘new’ family come and check on me from time to time. Their names are the Beryl's, just your usual rich, snobby family. Apparently they owed my adopted parents a favor, and opted taking me into their household instead. They are very rich, with expensive watches and pearl necklaces. The first thing I noticed about them were their clean, expensive suits and neatly trimmed haircuts. It makes me wonder why they couldn’t have just paid my parents out of their debt. God knows they have more money then they need.

     They didn’t hover much, the family was pretty uninterested in me, aside from having groceries delivered to my own house every Monday. The Beryl's consisted of mainly boys, however they had a daughter that couldn’t have been too much older than me. She would come over from time to time and take me out to go shopping and such. She had even made me get my nails done, to which made my daily task even harder, why people would do this for fun I have no idea. I looked down at my red and medium length nails in annoyance. I tried to make sure I got them as short as I could, to which Mary complained but complied.      She had been the closest thing I have had to a friend recently. She had told me about her life and her family, her crazy exes and celebrity crushes. She had also made sure I had the finest foods and the trending clothes. The closest thing I had to a sister as well, although we never really did talk about me, our relationship had consisted of her talking and me listening. Which I never had much of a problem with, it was always something different, never boring. 

   She had shown me around the spacious house, which consisted of five bed rooms, a huge kitchen the size of my entire downstairs back in my old house, a living room, a pool with a hot tub, five bathrooms, each inside the bedrooms, which were about the size of the actual bedroom ironically, and it even had its own theater room. It had to be worth more money then I had ever seen in my life. Worth more money then I’ll ever make in my entire life. I had gotten the biggest room, with a walk in bathroom and a balcony as well. 

  It was kind of ridiculous. They bought a whole mansion for one tiny human, who has no siblings or friends. Just her and her tiny suitcase against the world. The huge house tour had been given by her, which she talked about it like it was worth nothing, which made me wonder what her place must look like if she thought this house was a downgrade.    She was only at the house on Mondays, which was when we would hang out in the pool, or the hot tub, while she talked about whatever was currently going on in her life, or others, I had learned so much from her within two days of being with her then I had learned in the past two years of going to high school. She was a nice, preppy girl, definitely a gossip girl, always talking about her friend’s drama or the latest trends. However I quite enjoyed it, it took me away from my thoughts, my loneliness, my pain. It was a distraction from my past few shitty weeks I have had. Which I couldn’t bear to even tell her, not that she would have anything to say, probably would have changed the subject to some type of dress she saw while shopping. 

Speaking of shopping....

    She had completely filled my bathroom sized closet with dresses, skirts, and other clothes I hadn’t even known existed a month ago. All these purses, shoes, tights, things I’ve never tried on in my entire life. Brands that costs thousands of dollars. However, much to Mary’s dismay,  I have been wearing the same three pairs of jeans and t shirts that I brought down here with me for the past two weeks. I didn’t feel comfortable indulging myself with stuff bought with other people’s money. After all, I reminded myself that this life wasn’t permanent and as soon as I get a college education, I’d be out in the world, far away from this place, starting a new and fresh life. One with just me and my own house I bought with my own money... and maybe a cat. 

     A buzzing in my back pocket had awaken me from my deep thoughts, I had grabbed my phone that had been provided by the Beryl’s, and looked down at it. My eyes widened in shock, adrenaline seeping its way into my veins, or maybe it was my anxiety, I’ve had a bunch of both since I’ve been put in my new situation. It was a voicemail, from a number that will forever be memorized inside my brain.

 It was Jacob. 

  It was the first time I had heard from him since my last day in Forks, where I had yelled at him in the rain. I could still feel the icy cold rain and soggy clothes clinging to my shivering body. I had never thought that he would reach out, I’d thought that our last falling out would have been the end of our friendship. Maybe I’m right, maybe this is just him saying goodbye, maybe it’s him chewing me out, with Jacob, there’s no telling what it could be. I looked around, even though Mary had already left the house an hour ago, I still made sure I was alone.

  I opened the voicemail and held the phone up to my ear, preparing for the unexpected.

 “Uh, hello, this is me, Jake. I uh, just wanted to say that I’m sorry it had to be this way. But um, I need you to come back....Well, you need to come back. There’s been a problem, a major problem. Like life or death, and I know we didn’t exactly leave on the best terms, but I really need you to come back for just a few days. It’s time I explain everything, everything that had went down before you left. I-It’s very important that you know, you can crash at my house like old times. And then I swear, you can go back to your life and you won’t ever hear from me again. I just uh, I need you to come back here for a few days, please Y/N.“

   Once the message had ended, I stood there, trying to process what I had just heard. What could have been so important that he’d ruin our entire friendship over? And why must I suddenly know now? Why wait two weeks?  All these questions had been flooding through my head. I finally put my phone down, tossing it on my nightstand. 

 Surely the Beryl’s could care less what I was doing, as long as I was being fed and kept alive like they promised my family. I bet they wouldn’t even know I was gone, it was Monday night, they won’t send Mary back until next Monday. I had an entire week to my self, with nothing better to do then hate life itself. I could go and see what Jacob had to say, and worst come to worst, I leave and never see him again. Best comes to best, I finally figure out what the hell he had risked everything for, and maybe I can leave with some closure, some peace, and finally be able to start my new life with happiness.

  I had glanced at my suit case that was still filled with my old clothes, I may have not known much about anything at the moment. But one things for sure...

I’m going back to Forks.

[give-grian-rights]

Brothers!au Crossed with the Watcher!Tubbo and Tommy

ok so I basically am forcing myself to take a break from writing my own stuff and so here we are. For anyone who doesn’t know, this is a continuation of that one post that pami made where all of Tommy’s memories are now in Tubbo and its lots of fun :D

~~~

No. No this couldn’t be happening. This had to be a nightmare, some sort of hellish reality that his brain had come up with. He had failed them… He had failed them all. His brother was already dead because of him, and now the family he had surrounded himself with was lost. 

Tommy couldn’t even remember his own name, and Tubbo… Tubbo had seemingly gone completely insane. Wilbur sat in the dingy prison cell, watching the young teenager for god knows how long. He had just sat there, clinging onto Wilbur’s shirt, muttering to himself about nothing. Every now and then, Tubbo would let out a sharp laugh, making the older man jump in surprise. 

He needed to clear his mind. He needed to calm down. Sitting here with Tubbo, watching as he began to cry, then laugh, then shout in rage, it only served to fuel his panic. Hesitantly, he pulled out his phone. 

Ever since Grian had died in The Blur disaster seven years ago, Wilbur had somehow gotten into the habit of calling his phone whenever he was stressed. He knew that it was pointless, and that no one was ever going to pick up or answer, but something about hearing his brother’s voice in the voicemail recording was soothing. Plus, it gave him a way to vent out his emotions, without anyone actually having to sit and listen to them. 

With a trembling hand, he pulled up his brothers contact information and hit call. 

That was when he heard it. A voice, coming from somewhere behind him. But not just any voice, it was his voice. It sounded like it was several years old, perhaps from when he had just entered high school, but it was still his voice. 

“Hey you bitch! Stop ignoring your brother and pick up the fucking phone already before I-” the sound was cut off as someone swore under their breath. No… No this wasn’t possible. Wilbur recognized that voice clip. It was the clip that he had set as Grian’s ringtone as a prank. But that was years ago… And the only person who had ever even had access to that audio file was Grian himself. So who was hiding in the shadows?

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but you better fucking reveal yourself. You have some explaining to do,” He called out, standing up as straight as he could. His voice held a slight tremble, but he did his best to hide it. 

A person stepped out from the shadows, and Wilbur felt his breath catch in his throat. Standing directly before him, just out of arms reach, was his twin brother. The brother that had died seven years ago in The Blur. The brother who he had left for dead. In many ways, it was like stepping back in time. Grian looked exactly the same as he had before he died. Everything, from his hair to his height, even the bruises and bandages that covered his arms, it all looked exactly the same. 

But there was something different. A heavy sorrow seemed to surround him, as if he were holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were no longer filled with the life and light that Wilbur had grown up seeing, but were now only filled with hopelessness and pain. 

“Uh, hi,"  he said, his voice quivering. 

Tears filled Wilbur’s eyes as he fell to his knees. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real, it wasn’t fucking real. It was a trick, a hallucination. Some sort of ghost or memory from his past, only there to remind him of how much he had fucked up. A reminder of how he had failed his family. Both of his families. 

"No… Leave me alone, you aren’t real!” He cried out

His brother’s face filled with pain, which only served to twist the knife in Wilbur’s heart. “It’s good to see you again too Will…" 

The tears only fell faster. Wilbur kneeled in the dingy cell for what felt like hours, clutching his stomach and trying to control the waves of sobs that ran through him. The only other sounds that pierced the quiet air, were the hysterical giggles of the broken boy next to him.

~~~

:D

- Bella

___

bro brob BRORBROBROROBOBROAN IJDNSIDKJMKJNSKANDHSNDSHJASDUAHJSAIBAUYSHDAUSYD OH MY GOD WHAT HTE FUCK THIS. THIS HURTS. YOU,, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO THE LADS,,, Y’ALL WRITERS FOR THIS AU ARE C R U E LOH MY GOD I’M LOSING MY SHIT

[bookwyrminspiration]

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

chapter summary: The consequences of Sophie’s decision are starting to catch up to her, but she doesn’t know how to handle them.

Chapter 4: The Broken

Word Count: 4.7k

warnings: crying, numbness, avoiding problems, emotional breakdown (that’s the crying part), swearing, let me know if I need to add anything else

taglist: listed at the end, let me know if you want to be added or removed!

everyone ready? here we go!

ao3 link here or read beneath the cut! 

Sophie held onto the imparter until the buzzing stopped, having gone to whatever the elven version of voicemail was.

It started ringing again.

And another, behind her.

She turned painfully slow, dread curdling her skin, watching as Fitz pulled out his own imparter, staring down with that eerie gaze as it buzzed in his hand.

Then Biana.

Then Dex.

Then Wylie.

None of them answered.

The imparter in her hand chimed once, then again. They’d stopped trying to hail her--now they were sending messages. She couldn’t concentrate on the words flooding the screen, her fingers trembling too severely to hold it steady.

Before she could think it through, she opened the imparter, purposefully not reading the dozens of messages pouring in--from more than just her parents. She typed out a quick message, sent it off, and turned off the notifications, shoving it back into her bag.

The words burned the back of her throat, the ones she’d never get to say aloud, had left sealed behind with that cover when she made the choice--she made this choice--to leave.

She didn’t see what the others did as she continued moving forward, the grasses shifting from decrepit and decaying to unkempt but thriving, the vines becoming more lush, thicker and snaking and warm and untended to.

But she didn’t hear anyone pick up a call. She kept moving.

The area was...peaceful, if a bit wild. The marks left behind were clear--this area had been cared for, once upon a time. Now moss overgrew the trees, the rocks shaped as though meant to be sat upon, woven baskets left discarded on the grown, now-rotten fruits spilling from each.

“Over here,” Biana called, blinking into sight in the distance. Sophie hadn’t realized she’d disappeared.

Biana stood at the base of one of the thickest trees, towering, curling roots tearing into the soil below, sturdy enough that she stepped atop one like a stair. Biana pointed upwards, to what she’d called them to.  

Their panting wasn’t the only sound amongst the trees, the faint chimes of soft bells pealing from above, so quiet she’d almost thought the trees themselves were singing. The sound sucked the air from her lungs, draining her dry as she ran her fingers through the knots of her hair, peeling it from her sweat-soaked neck, twisting it through her hands. Resisting the urge to tear it out.

Once upon a time someone had sung such similar songs to her as they braided her worries away.

Once upon a time she’d sat with them, and cooked with them.

Once upon a time they’d died.

She dropped her hand to her side. Now was not the time.

“Okay...how do we get up there?” Wylie stood at the base of the tree near Biana, hand resting at his chin as he frowned upwards.

Just barely visible through the thick canopy of leaves and vines a rustic, curved base was visible, wrapping and coiling itself around the thick trunk, as if it’d always been there. Greenery covered it, untamed and overgrown, spreading from somewhere unseen up above.

The gnomes abandoned tree-houses.

“We climb.”

Sophie panted softly in the light of the rising sun, palms scraped and aching. It had been higher than she’d thought, no easy way up aside from the branches gracing the trunks--the gnomes had planned it that way. Hadn’t anticipated anything would be able to find a path.

Not that it mattered now.

They stood on a wooden porch, able to clearly see the rest of the homes from here--it was an entire community. She’d known, logically, the scope of the gnomes who’d gone missing. Who’d left. But standing here--there were dozens of elaborate, woven residences clinging sturdy to the forms of these trees, wrapping around them with the trunk jutting through the center.

The chiming of those faint bells reverberated throughout the area, the budding rays of sun peeking through the foliage, reflecting off small gems and pieces of glass scattered throughout the builds.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, spinning slowly, taking it all in.

Linh curled her fingers, and the sound of bubbling water rose from various places throughout the trees, delicate dripping irrigation systems diverting the dew and catching the light. Cascades of warm flowered vines fell from the roofs, curling around the braided edges of the railings on each porch. There was a gap, a gate in each, where a thin path--wood suspended on loose vine--stretched out to the next tree, the next habitat over, some meeting and crossing, each dripping with moss and foliage and morning dew--and gouge marks.

Her stomach turned ice as she tentatively stepped out onto one of the bridges, gingerly fingering the marks. This place was beautiful, yes.

But it was abandoned. Empty.

The people who had woven these bridges, molded themselves into the trees--none of them remained.

The wings at her back shivered, twitching with her despair, and the urge to rend them from her skin nearly consumed her. Monsters had ransacked this place, torn the people from their homes and broken their paradise.

Nothing from below, no.

They’d been attacked by monsters with wings.

“What now, Sophie?” Keefe was looking at her so softly, head cocked to the side, it made her want to rip it from his face. She shook herself internally, dousing the thought with alarm. No. She didn’t want to hurt him. She’d done all this...come all the way out here, just to keep herself from hurting people.

She wouldn’t start now.

She would fight this, whatever was happening to her, whatever was changing within her, as long as she fucking could and she would not let it control her. She’d needed to get out of the underground, couldn’t trust herself to be near them anymore--but neither could they.

“Now…” she paused for a moment, unsure what to do. So many things had gone so wrong so quickly, the ground ripped from beneath her feet. What would they do? “Now, we hurt them back.”

Her resolve was steel against the chill morning air, cutting through the loathing with absolute certainty. At least for now.

Maybe she couldn’t trust herself to be a safe person anymore, but neither could any of them. The wings had come first--and Tam’s eyes had come next. Who knew when--if--it would stop. Where. Maybe it wouldn’t.

They could all be on a collision course, already doomed and just waiting to reach the end of the road. But until then. She was going to do everything she could to hurt back the people who’d taken the safety, the individuality from her friends. From her.

The others felt her thoughts, her determination through their linked minds, and she watched as each of their faces hardened alongside her own.

They couldn’t trust themselves either.

Didn’t matter whether or not they had a dangerous ability, they’d still become an unknown to the people they loved. Still hated not knowing when and if and what would happen and where and if it would stop and whether or not they could trust their own minds.

None of them could, but they were all in it together.

It was a risk. Any of them could lose themselves, turn on each other they way they were afraid they would underground.

But it was a shared fear, a shared future, a shared determination.

But it was all of them, all of them versus themselves.

And that was a risk, a chance, they’d take any fucking day. 

The window in Sophie’s space was broken.

It would’ve been beautiful, once upon a time. Gnomish things often were. Curling, intertwining branches curved around each other, climbing up the wall in a haphazard arc, overgrown with flora. The view beyond was somehow better, the tops of the trees bursting with color, dripping dew set ablaze by the early morning sun.

Now glass littered the floor, dusting the panels, scattering themselves across the floor, pieces of different colors of someone else’s life. Faint tendrils of vine clung to the few cracked panes remaining in the frame, as if desperately holding itself together.

She tucked her knees in closer to her chest.

The light flowed through that shattered window, catching on the pieces on the ground, reflecting back up on her face as she sat there atop someone else’s bed, mussed and pressed against the wall, those wings spread behind her as she sat staring through that shattered hole.

She should be sleeping.

The others were.

She wasn’t.

She couldn’t. Not when the last time she’d done so she’d woken to be someone--something--else. Not when her imparter lay beneath her legs, ablaze with messages she may never read.

Those wings shifted behind her and she grimaced, gaze fixed straight ahead.

She hugged her knees closer.

Sophie Foster was

so

tired.

The wings twitched again, and her breath caught. The trees outside that shattered window grew slightly blurry, and she blinked hard. It wouldn’t go away.

Tear after tear tracked its way through the scrapes and dirt on her face, drifting down her cheeks and dripping their way across the sensitive skin of her neck.

Her nails dug into her skin, trying trying trying to hold those pieces of herself together, hold herself together like that broken window. Those pieces that had been shattered and scattered within moments, flipped around and tossed with abandon.

She couldn’t find that Sophie who’d been so angry, so determined, bursting with fight. Her friends had made a commitment to her and themselves, to get back at the people who’d done...this...to them.

They’d each claimed a home, an old gnomish space.

And when Sophie had walked into hers, chosen it for the wreath of moonflower vines framing the door, the moment her friends’ eyes left her, every bone in her body had turned to stone and her muscles to feathers.

She’d sat before that broken window and she hadn’t moved since.

She couldn’t.

Every time she moved, so did…they.

Just thinking about it sent a jolt through her spine that had them twitching. She hadn’t seen them, hadn’t looked.

She’d seen the stumps in the mirror, had caught glimpses of color and shape in her friends’ minds when she’d crashed into that tree, when she’d jumped from that creature.

Not enough to see them.

There was a part of her, a foolish, hopeless part of her, that thought if she ignored it long enough, it would go away.

If she didn’t look, they weren’t there.

If she didn’t look, they weren’t real.

Seeing them made them real.

She didn’t want them to be real.

She

was

so

tired.

Sophie’s gaze drifted outside the window, wandering between the different colored leaves and the draping vines and the flowers dangling from the--her--broken window.

Then it caught.

Alongside the bottom of the twisted branches was enough glass left for a splintered reflection to stare back, hollow tear-stained eyes, knotted hair stuck to her skin, curled up like she could disappear if she held herself close enough.

Wings.

They were hard to see in the glass, but they spread behind her, as if reminding her they were there. Her pulse roared in her ear, body overcome with that numbing tingle of pure panic.

Sophie inhaled. And slowly turned to look at them.

They were...real.

Attached at her shoulder blades, they spread from her back, the entirety of them on display. She couldn’t...tell what they were. Her friends, they each had something identifiable. An animal, a creature of some kind. Something distinct.

These...weren’t.

But she could identify the base.

Bumblebee.

That was the shape. The delicate, thin membranes threaded through with veins, and as they beat they made the same buzz. That’s what she’d been hearing earlier, she realized. That hum as she walked through the forest--it had been the wings.

But the color was off. Bees' wings were colorless, maybe a gradient of beige near the body. These were alive with splotches of color, translucent blues fading into purples blending into greys, speckled throughout with blinding white.

Like the endless expanse of the night sky. The hollow echo of the void.

Her eyesight blurred again, and she blinked hard as she followed the veins from the edge of the wing, all the way to where it met with her back. It took her a few moments to understand what she was seeing.

Another way she’d been set apart.

There were...feathers. Small, colored feathers textured through with speckles and swirling white patterns at the very base--only at the base. As if those wings had been unable to decide what they wanted to be, and had decided to be everything.

Sophie reached out, tentatively tracing a finger along the membrane.

She jolted, back arching reflexively, as if someone had tickled the bottoms of her feet.

She pressed out an exhale.

So they were sensitive.

Very

sensitive.  

Sophie turned back away, looking out through the window once more, suddenly so so...numb. Her eyelids became lead, trying to succumb to gravity.

No.

Please.

Jerkily, exhaustion-worn, she reached for her imparter, still pressed between her legs. Anything. She’d do anything to keep from falling asleep again.

She thumbed open the messages, the unanswered chats between her and her terrified, desperate, confused parents. She couldn’t read them. The adrenaline trying to sear its path through her veins could’ve been nothing for all she felt.

She knew it was there. But it was doing nothing.

Sophie’s shoulders dropped, imparter slipping from her grasp as the electrical signals in her body stopped working. Her fingertip caught the edge of the screen, sending the conversation scrolling back back back.

Until she could see that one, final message she’d sent her parents.

I’m sorry. I left of my own will. I didn’t want to hurt you. Don’t look for me. I’m sorry. I love you. I always will. I’m so sorry.

And then Sophie Foster collapsed.

She could see herself. She was supposed to, at least. She wasn’t actually there.

There was no her to see.

 The mirrors only reflected themselves back on each other again and again, becoming a darkening, sickening shade of green with each faux version of not-her.

 The mirrors were empty.

 Where was she?

 Why couldn’t she see?

She was here, wasn’t she?

Why couldn’t she see herself?

 The mirrors weren’t supposed to be empty.

 Where had she gone?

Cinnamon and wind pressed against Sophie’s face, and her eyes snapped open, instantly on edge. She jerked up, those wings buzzing with alarm. Her fingers splayed behind in the torn sheets of that bed as all her senses overloaded her mind with too much information all at once.

The sun was still out but it was setting the trees were wet and the fibers of this blanket were individually woven together and the air was rusting the flower petals on the door and--

“Woah, woah, woah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” Fitz was holding his hands out placatingly, like she were some startled animal. Which...she supposed she was.

Sophie took a moment to respond, breathing slowly until all that sensory information became no more than background noise.

“Are you...alright,” he asked, lowering himself onto the bed, sitting diagonal so those wings didn’t get in the way. Those wings. She’d hadn’t looked at them closely yet. Had been too frenzied on adrenaline.

She changed the topic. “Do you know what...kind...those are,” she asked, gesturing towards the wings with her chin.

He grimaced, gazing over his shoulder. “I tried not to think about it, if I’m being honest.”

“But…” Sophie prodded, encouraging him gently with a nod of her head. Her face softened as she scanned him, the rumpled clothes--he’d changed into a new outfit--the unkempt hair, as if he’d pushed it back and forth, torn his fingers through it; the circles and lines beneath his eyes, framing his face like bruises; the scratches lining his knuckles, the way he pulled and fidgeted with his hands as he looked back at her--behind her.

The wings tucked in, resting against her back as she gently nudged him with her arm.

“Well...obviously, I’m assuming a bird of some kind.” He exhaled lightly with faint amusement, rolling his eyes. “You know. Because of the feathers.”  

“Can I...may I see?” Her voice was too quiet, should’ve been too quiet. But they both heard her all too clearly. She winced, starting to pull back, lean away. She’d so clearly hidden the ones attached to her, now she was asking him to show off the pair on his back.

His eyes widened slightly as she retreated, and the wings spread slightly. He shifted on the bed, and the full length extended, wrapping up and descending around her, nearly enveloping her.

She couldn't keep the silent gasp from slipping through her lips, mouth falling opening as she saw the full pattern of those wings. Rich brown feathers melded into warm, golden honey, spattered throughout with occasional pops of cream. The feathers were smaller closer to his back, growing steadily longer and sleeker as they reached the outer edges of the wings, nearly the length of her forearm.

“I don’t know what kind of bird they could be,” he admitted, blush staining his cheeks. “There aren’t many with natural, earthy coloring in the Lost Cities.” His voice broke at the end, and he cleared his throat to cover it. The Lost Cities. They truly were lost now, weren’t they. A faux paradise broken into pieces, nothing more than memory. As ruined and haphazard as she was.

Sophie shook herself. Not now. Fitz needed her. She needed him. She cocked her head, looking at the pattern. “They remind me off…” she trailed off, sending her mind back back back. Something was pulling at her, a memory; something from her human life. There. A day at the San Diego zoo, her human mother holding her hand as they looked through the habitats.

“A golden eagle,” she whispered.

Fitz said nothing as she reached out, almost in a daze, running her finger along the edge of those feathers. He didn’t react, so…

“These aren’t sensitive, are they?” It was more statement than question, but he nodded anyway.

“Why? Are yours?”

Something clanged through her at that, jolting through her muscles and sending her thoughts convulsing into the shadows. Hers. She pushed it aside.

“We’re talking about you right now,” she teased, a little too out of breath to be okay. Her fingers fisted in the ragged bed sheets, resisting the urge to pull at her skin, her scalp, anywhere she could get her hands on.

He frowned at her, scrunching his nose a bit. “This isn’t just a me thing, Sophie.” His voice was too gentle, too caring, too too too aware of everything going on inside her and reading her like a book of melodies he could leaf through at his whimsy. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you after everything. But I know you’re trying to hide it. The leader we--all of us, Sophie--want you to be isn’t a person who will hide themselves from us. I know it wasn’t the same for you, the mission, waking up, but that doesn’t mean we’re that different.”

He glanced over her shoulder at both those pairs of wings, bumblebee and golden eagle. “Please don’t push us away. You don’t have to talk to me,” he continued, looking down at her clenched fingers, gently uncurling them and holding her hand in both his own. “But please talk to one of us.”

Fuck.

They sat there for a few moments, just breathing next to each other in heavy silence as Fitz brushed his thumb rhythmically over the back of her hand, ready to wait. To wait as long as it took her to say whatever was boiling brewing curling steaming screaming inside her.

It broke her.

Her fingers tightened in his as her whole body wracked with sobs, shuddering and collapsing in on itself. Her free hand slapped to her mouth, trying to push the noises back into her lungs, the room splotchy and blurred as those tears she’d tried so hard to ignore and to keep to herself and to pretend were only temporary slipped through.

She didn’t scream.

Fitz pulled her into an embrace as she shuddered, crying silently into his shoulder. Her throat was so so thick, so tense, her tongue so heavy in her mouth she couldn’t speak. Nails digging into his shoulder blade, fingertips brushing against the base of those wings, and she cried harder.

She wanted to tell him. She wanted to--. What did she want?

His arms were so warm around her, so steady as he held her, squeezing her closer and waiting waiting waiting for her.

She couldn’t find the willpower to voice it, to speak it aloud.

She didn’t need to.

She didn’t have the strength to speak, but her mind was stronger than her body.

I don’t want to become a monster.

That was what she was running from, hiding from. This possibility. The chance that the wings weren’t the end, that maybe this was where the first monsters had come from, all those months ago. And she was next. She’d have to sit inside her body and watch it rot, becoming the very thing she hated, despised, so dearly. Something with nothing inside it, something bloodthirsty who frothed at the opportunity to attack, no thought behind her actions, a danger to anyone near.

And that had driven her away from some of the most important people in her life. Looking back, it was still safest for her to be as far from her family as possible, but it still hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt.

She hadn’t been able to read the messages from her parents, whatever they’d said to her in terror, desperation, fear for her.

Maybe one day it would be fear of her.

She hated what she’d done to them, but she couldn’t fix it. Not when she was like...this. An unknown assuming the worst.

I know. Fitz inhaled shakily next to her ear, and she realized he was crying too. I know...exactly what you’re feeling. His mind was whirling beside hers, both their mental shields lowered as they sat beside one another.

His thoughts were slow but oh so tragic. Each one a nightmare, his body ruined and decaying, a monster that had once been him crawling its way into the underground, tearing the stones from the walls, gouging into the unprotected below.

Ripping his mother’s heart from her chest.

His arms clenched around her and she held him closer too.

Hey. Hey. Hey, she consoled, gently rocking the two of them back and forth. You...You’re not a monster, she finally whispered, and he sagged in her grasp, burying his face in her neck. I don’t think you could be. You’re too...good.

He laughed hollowly against her skin as she released her death grip on his shoulder blades, a hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, fingers running through his hair.

She’d tried to distract herself from the wings on her back by asking about the ones on his...but he’d also tried to distract himself from his quiet nightmares by asking about her own. What a pair they were.

What a group.

This was the two of them, but they were not solitary lights. They were fragments of stars amongst the constellations of people they had chosen to love.

Eight of them living through the exact same waking nightmare, only a few doors away.

“We’ll fix this,” she promised, voice hoarse from her tears. “I don’t know...I don’t know what fixed will be. Maybe we’ll be out here for the rest of our lives. Maybe we’ll go back to the underground eventually. Maybe...maybe we’ll even go home.” Her voice broke on the last word, but his breathing had slowed. He was listening. “But whatever it will be, we’ll find it. We’ll make it. All of us. We work best when we work together. If anyone can fix this...it’s us.”

Fitz leaned back, his palms running down her arms and coming to rest in their laps.

“Yeah,” he whispered, staring down at their interlaced fingers, eyes red and vacant. And it was so so natural to reach forward, brush his tears away with her thumbs, hold his face in her hands for a moment before picking up his own once more.

He looked up at her at that, opening his mouth as if to continue, but he paused, head cocking to the side and a slight smile spreading across his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just...are you--” he cut out, looking down at his palms, laughing slightly as he angled them towards her, so she could see.

The skin of his palms was dusted in a faint layer of light powder, almost a translucent silver. He pointed to her own arms, and she followed his gesture.

“What are you--oh.” All thoughts left her mind, leaving her with just a what? Every inch of her exposed limbs was brushed with a fine layer of powder, clinging to the surface of her skin and catching the sunlight streaming in through that broken window.

Sophie scooted back on the bed, shaking out her arms, a shower of light dust raining down. She wasn’t even angry about it, there was only pure dumbfounded bafflement as she brushed the powder off again and again and again, mostly of it falling to the sheets, but enough clinging to her skin that she was sure she’d never be rid of it.

Fitz laughed louder at her perplexed expression, glancing at him as she shook out her hands again, his voice cracking slightly as he stood, bounding to the broken window and eagerly leaning out, looking around.

“What are you doing? This is a very serious situation Fitzroy,” she said, scrunching her nose at him lightheartedly. Sure, she was confused. But she could handle that if it got rid of that horrid numbness shadowing his face. Whatever it was sent a sweet scent wafting from him, and she smiled slightly herself. He was...genuinely amused. But what was he doing?

He turned towards her and grinned, pointing to one of the flowers framing the glass, a soft periwinkle encrusted with speckles of grey, drooping from the vines. “Look.” Flower between his fingers, he tapped it a few times, a shower of that fine powder falling from the center.

“...and?” She wasn’t following.

“You’re a bumblebee,” he laughed slightly. “It’s pollen.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” she sighed, pressing her hands into her cheeks, squishing her face as she turned to look at him. “Our homes being overrun by mindless bloodthirsty creatures: I can handle. Living underground for months: I can handle. Running away from our families: I can handle that. Growing fucking wings? I can handle it. But this pollen. I just don’t think I can take it. I think this, right here, this will bee my breaking point.”

Fitz full on snorted at that, her little pun, and she found herself grinning back at him.

His smile faded after a moment and he titled his head to look at her, the movement inhuman. “You can handle it, huh?”

She dropped her hands down to her lap, thinking it over. She’d been joking around, wanting to make him laugh, ease the weight off both the shoulders the way Keefe did so effortlessly, but...the words hadn’t come out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” she answered finally. “I think we can.”

Maybe not now. This would hurt, this would linger for a while yet, but she’d get there. There was a while yet to go, but it would be manageable someday.

She’d have to remind herself of that.

He nodded to himself, briefly meeting her gaze, and she was put off for a moment at the intensity of his stare. He nodded again, and something shifted in his stance. His muscles eased and a sturdy calm washed over him, like he’d seen something in her that’d given him confidence.

“I guess then we’ll--” he cut off as both their heads snapped towards the door.

The sound.

Light footsteps pounded erratically against wood, losing their balance several times as they skidded right onto that patio outside. Something pinged in the back of the mindbubble.

Something’s wrong.

They each flinched as the door burst open, Biana’s hair frazzled, eyes wide with pure panic, the scent of damp terror permeating the space. She leaned in just long enough to say two awful words.

“It’s Dex.”

Taglist: @loudnerdfest @rainbowtay-11 @cadence-talle @pyrokinetic-loser @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @itstiger720 @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjennie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @booknerdddddd

[sadaboutniall]

Without Fear

masterlist | tag | wattpad

Chapter One. January.

remember that first laugh? all it changed once I had that // like a hurricane, but I don't care where I land - rome, dermot kennedy 

The whole thing had started out as a joke. Or maybe a pipe dream. Or maybe a massive mental breakdown and a poorly thought-through trip to the passport office for a rush renewal and a visa application. 

No matter how it had started, Luna hadn’t actually thought it would pan out. Two and a half months ago, standing in her parents’ kitchen in New York, reading the lawyer’s letter, it had been a shiny, exciting, half-baked idea—an escape she could cling to while everything else was going to shit. It hadn’t been a reality. 

It was hardly a reality even as it began to happen: Luna, packing her bags on a Friday night, deciding which pictures of her ex to keep and which to toss; Luna’s dad, hoisting her bags into the trunk of the car for her; Luna’s mom, petting her hair as she hugged her goodbye at the airport.

And it wasn’t real when she got to Inis Mór either: her snug little apartment above the coffee shop, the smattering of mismatched furniture that her Great Aunt Niamh had left behind, Ruairí, the black cat her new neighbor had been feeding, the mess of her suitcases, exploding on the floor, markedly different to the seemingly ancient chairs and quilts and sweaters that Niamh left for her. 

Or, just left. It’s been hard for Luna to tell what’s for her and what isn’t. 

And even now, nearly a month into living here and it only half feels real, the way she gets up every morning and putters down to the shop to open up, the cat following behind her, meowing for breakfast and Siobhan, the baker, already well on her way to done with the morning’s pastries, the smell of cinnamon and dough and vanilla and the cold air outside wafting through the shop to wake Luna up sweetly; the way old Mr. Whelan is always her first customer, never deviates from his order of a black coffee and a croissant, toasted; the rush of cold air every time someone opens the door, feeling like it’s flaying the shop open, sending napkins fluttering to the floor, causing Ruairí to hiss in protest and curl up closer to the fireplace. There’s nothing real in the way the sun sets at 4pm these days, quick as a wink over the hill outside the window, a flash of orange and purple the only reminder that day once broke in this place that always feels dark, under cover. There’s nothing real in the way Luna needn’t worry about anything here—her rent is paid and there are no deadlines anymore, no screaming bosses, no one angry with her for dropping an artist file or fucking up a coffee order. It’s not real, not even when she calls home and talks to her parents, when they tell her about her brother Sam’s new PhD research and his girlfriend Mary’s trip to Honduras. It’s not real, any of it. And it works. It’s fine. And so is Luna. 

It’s hardly real on a Monday night at the end of January, either, after Siobhan has already left for the day and Luna is quietly closing up, tucking mugs into cabinets and dropping bits of pastry on the floor for the cat. She’s not thinking about much of anything—in the month she’s been here, Lu’s found the very start and very end of her days to be the most relaxing, the way she can clear up the shop or fire up the coffee maker without having to talk to anyone, think about anything. It’s so markedly different from what feels like a lifetime ago: bustling into the office at 8:30 and still feeling like she was late, a tray of coffees balanced in one hand, someone’s dry cleaning in the other, 12 voicemails already waiting for her, 30 emails, more coming through as her phone vibrated in her pocketbook. This is quiet and slow: Ruairí is weaving between her legs, meowing gently when he wants more treats, and outside it’s dark and still and cold, despite it being only 7pm. Luna is tired but not wiped—a feeling she forgot existed before leaving New York—and it occurs to her that she can have a slice of cake tonight in front of the TV, and maybe a glass of wine, while watching Law and Order until she falls asleep. 

She’s lost in that thought—and the already building annoyance at the fact that she knows she’ll inevitably wake up on the couch at 3am and have to stumble to bed—when the door creaks open, nighttime wind rushing in, a boy stumbling after it. 

“So sorry,” Lu looks up from where she’s been wiping down the counter behind the pastry display. “I’m closing up. But I still have a few leftover slices of cake if you want—”

“Oh, erm,” the boy stills, maybe surprised, and Lu does too. He’s—well. Lu hasn’t seen anyone here who looks like him. 

He’s a mess of hat hair, dark at the roots and an unnatural blonde at the tips, curling over his ears and flopping over one eyebrow. He’s bright blue eyes, wide when he looks at her, and cheeks flushed red to match the tip of his nose, and a smattering of stubble along his face, darkening in the dimple of his chin, his pink lips chapped where his tongue darts out to soothe them. He takes her breath away for half a second—or maybe that’s the rush of wind that crashed against her chest when he opened the door. 

The boy is clutching a guitar by its neck, gloved hand wrapped almost reverently around it, and his white high-top sneakers are mucky where the rubber soles have been sludging through the perma-mud outside. He looks like something out of a dream, maybe, Lu’s heart catching a little in her throat. 

“Hi,” he says, finally, looking just as out of sorts as Lu feels. She’s not sure if that’s good or bad, but he carries on. “I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t think you would be so… uh. American? Uh,” gently, he tucks the guitar under his arm and tugs off his navy blue gloves, the cotton pilling from wear. “I’m Niall,” he reaches out a hand. It’s cold when Lu takes it to shake, when he wraps it gently around her own. “I live Kilronan.” 

“Hiya,” Lu’s voice comes out softer than she expected it to. “I’m Lu. I work here.” 

“Right, right,” Niall nods, swallows thick. “You’re Niamh’s niece? I was so sorry to hear about her passing—she—”

“Great niece,” Lu rushes over Niall, exhausted, even a month later, of every introduction on this island starting with a condolence. “I actually only met her once. But it sounds like she was a force.”

“You—once?” Niall shoves his gloves into the pocket of his puffer jacket. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. Was there, uh,” she doesn’t want to get rid of him,  but doesn’t know where to go next. “Did you want one of those slices of cake? I’m sorry for you to come all the way from Kilronan for nothing.”

“Oh,” Niall looks like he’s only just remembered where he is. “No, I didn’t come for cake. I, uh, I have a… a question? An idea?”

Briefly, Lu worries if she should be nervous—but crime doesn’t happen here, not like this, and Lu knows the statistics when it comes to stranger attacks. Either way, Niall keeps talking before she can spiral, the words tumbling out like he knows he has to speak before he thinks better of it.

“I, uh, I was wondering if there’s any chance you were looking for someone to, like, play guitar and sing a bit? Like, live music in the shop for a couple hours a week? You don’t have to pay me or anything, ‘m not asking for that, but I could maybe leave my case open for tips? I can do covers or requests or—whatever you want, really. And I can give you my work schedule and we can work around that; I’m free on the weekends mostly, except for when I coach football, but also on weeknights if you’d prefer that and if you want to split the tips I understand, we can do that too, and also—” 

“Niall,” Lu can’t take it. He’s speaking so fast it’s shuttling her toward an anxiety attack, and throwing up on the shoes of the first cute boy she’s seen in a month was not on her agenda for today. Meeting a cute boy in general was not on her agenda for today, but Lu’s been learning that things don’t tend to pan out the way she plans them. “I like the idea. That sounds cool.” 

“I totally understand if—wait, really?” Niall pauses, hand halfway up to his face, like he was going to cover his mouth, or rub his eyes, or bite his nails. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open a little, like he didn’t expect it to be that easy. Like he didn’t accept Lu to be agreeable at all. 

“Yeah,” Lu shrugs, then nods at the guitar still tucked under Niall’s arm, “but you’ll need to audition for me,” she bites back a cheeky smile, watches Niall do the same. “I can’t have a crap singer driving away all my customers.”

“Ah, fair play,” the left side of Niall’s mouth pulls up into a smile, and Lu pointedly ignores the kick in her chest. “What would you like to hear?”

She shrugs again, as if “casual” or “easygoing” were ever words people would’ve used to describe her back home. “Your favorite song?”

“My favorite—” Niall scoffs, but there’s no malice in it—it’s playful, inviting, fun. It makes Lu feel like he wants to keep talking to her. Like he wants her to keep winding him up. “You think I can narrow it down to one favorite song?”

“I can,” Lu smiles, soft, “I’m good at making decisions.” 

“Go on, tell us then.” 

“You first,” Lu gestures toward a table, the only one in the shop that isn’t rickety when there’s too much weight on it. “Then I’ll tell ya.” 

Niall hums under his breath, approval, and settles himself on top of the table easily, feet perched on the chair, guitar natural in his lap. He strums once, to check that everything is in tune, and then glances up through the bit of hair that’s fallen over his eye. He’s striking—bright blue eyes, a shock of blonde at the tips of his hair, a lone dimple digging into his filled out cheeks—and Lu feels her stomach swoop and kick again. She takes a deep breath, crosses her arms over her chest. Niall sits up straight. 

“Alright,” he says it so quietly that Lu thinks it might just be for him. She’s suddenly struck with the notion that she’s intruding on something, a moment between Niall and his guitar and himself that isn’t for her—that, maybe, this isn’t something a lot of people get to see. 

And, if that’s true, Lu realises the second he starts strumming, it’s a damn shame. 

It takes Lu a second to recognize the song, but it doesn’t even matter. With a guitar in his hand Niall is even more mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Completely, incomprehensibly, irresistible.

And then he opens his mouth. And Lu feels sick. 

It’s “With or Without You”. 

But there’s none of the corniness, none of the playful groaning and eye rolling that usually accompanies a U2 cover. Instead, Lu feels frozen to her spot in the middle of the shop, Niall, seated atop the table, eyes down, an anchor in the middle of this island. His voice, lower than she expected, and raspy in all the right places, is somehow vulnerable and confident at the same time—somehow makes her want to simultaneously hold him and be held by him, to protect him and let him protect her. It’s real. It’s vulnerable. It’s terrifying. Lu doesn’t know what to do with it. 

The song lasts forever and is over in an instant. Eyes closed, Niall carries out the final, desperate, confident, terrified, “I can’t live, with or without you,” as he stops playing and lets his voice take over. The whole shop shakes with it. Or maybe that’s just Lu, trembling. 

His eyes don’t open for a few seconds. Lu can feel herself breathing, she can feel her heart beating, she can feel the wind, outside, throwing itself against the shop’s ancient windows. She can feel it when Niall opens his eyes. 

“Was it that shite?” 

Overwhelmed, Lu exhales an unstoppable, lovely laugh. Niall’s cheeks are red and his eyes are a little glassy and he runs a hand through his thick hair, his bicep flexing just a millimeter. Lu already knows there’s no way this can last.

“Terrible,” she smiles. “Worst I’ve ever heard. When can you start?” 

####

They work out the schedule together, leaning over the only good table, comparing planners. Lu still keeps her old Moleskin, dark purple, embossed with her college seal and the year she graduated. She hasn’t needed it much lately—after years of her work, and eventually her social life, revolving around Google Calendar, she feels a freedom in being able to jot down appointments and approximate times in a messy journal. Niall’s got a battered leather one—doodles on the front, his name in script on the first page. He flips through it quickly, keeps it close to his chest. 

He works at a local furniture and home goods boutique most days, as a design consultant, and coaches the middle school’s co-ed soccer team on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, with games on Saturdays. Lu tells him not to overbook himself but he does it anyway, and they settle on Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights, as well as Saturday mornings, starting the next week. He says he’ll have a friend work up posters to advertise, and tries, again, to tell Lu he’ll split his tips. 

At 10:30, he notices the time, his cheeks pinking up, his chapped lower lip caught between his teeth. They’d been splitting the final two slices of cake, and there’s a tiny glob of chocolate caught in the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he says, looking reluctant, “I’ve got to go, I’m meant to be at work at 8 tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, God,” Lu feels a bit like she’s coming out of a daze, that feeling she gets, sometimes, when she’s been reading a book or watching a movie and then has to reimmerse herself in the real world. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” 

“No, no,” Niall rushes, “you didn’t. I—thank you. For the chocolate cake. And the, uh, opportunity.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Lu presses her lips together, resists the urge to lean forward and thumb at the chocolate on his mouth. “You’ve got, uh, a bit of chocolate,” she touches the mirroring spot on her own mouth, “right there.” 

“Right,” he smiles, tongue darting out to catch it. “I won’t. Thanks.” 

Lu gathers the plates and cups and totes them to the sink while Niall gets his things together. When she turns around, he’s bundled in his coat and scarf, hat pulled low over his brows, free hand shoved into the pocket of his puffer. She doesn’t know how to look away from him. 

“I guess I’ll see you next week, then?” He asks, fiddling with the zipper on his puffer. He hasn’t got all the chocolate—Lu wonders what it would taste like against his lips.

“Next week,” she echoes. “Yeah.” 

“Brilliant. I’ll, uh—I’m excited. Have a good week.” 

Lu’s “and you” gets lost in her throat as she watches Niall head toward the door. His hand is on the knob when he turns back around. 

“Wait, Lu.” 

The sound of her name in his mouth makes her heart stutter. She hopes her raised brow will pass for a response. 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“What?” She gets that out, at least.

“Your favorite song of all time,” Niall smiles, dimple prominent. “What is it?”

Looking back, Lu has no idea where the sudden confidence comes from. But, somehow, it does. She smiles, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not sure I want to tell you yet,” she says, kind. “I want to see if you figure it out for yourself.” 

####

taglist: @missy14us @coconutdawn @ficnarry @okaaayniall @theresnooneheretosave @niallgolden @tinyfelthat @adoremp3 @thelifeofbo @crocodileniall @niallsguitarthings 

Join the tag list here.

[therenlover]

heyy jac I first wanted to say you are amazing, thank you for going out of your way to give us tfatws content. it brightens up my day whenever I see you post. I was just listening to your zemo playlist and I’m one of those people who when I listen to a song I love to make scenarios in my head. I was wondering if you could walk us through some of your favourite songs on the playlist and tell us how you associate them with zemo. I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the songs. (if that isn’t too much hassle sorry if I’m being annoying lol).

 Anon, you are currently my favorite person in the whole wide world. I absolutely want to give you my favorite songs on the playlist and tell you exactly what I see when I hear them, and you have given me an excuse to do so. This post will probably be long as hell, so I’m putting it under the cut. 

Foolish To Think from A Gentleman’s Guide To Love and Murder

We all know Zemo is a baron, but like... we don’t know how powerful baron’s are in Sokovia. We also don’t know pretty much anything about his childhood or rise to power. I am a firm believer that he’s been ever so slightly unhinged even when he was still just a normal dude, so this is him deciding “you know what, I’m about to climb my way up the Zemo family ladder however I need to,” This, in my mind, is the epitome of fresh faced, 18 year old, canon Zemo ready to go fuck some people up for power. 

If Music Be The Food Of Love arranged by David Dickau

During his rise to power, still just a normal dude, Zemo falls in love with his wife. I’m a big believer in the fact that, because Zemo was raised as royalty, he knows a whole lot of pretentious shit like Shakespeare and recites it to his partner to be romantic. The line “Though yet, the treat is only sound, sure I must perish by your charms unless you save me in your arms,” is what he used to woo her early in the relationship. So cute, it would be terrible if something bad happened to her...

Bogoroditse Djevo arranged by Arvo Pärt

This one is more of a scene I get in my head. It’s a Christmas tune, and I can see him, his wife, and their infant going to their first Christmas market as a family in Novi Grad. Just... walking from stall to stall, giggling at the performers, eating the food, buying little gifts for the baby to remember the occasion. It’s a calm before the storm.

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns

This song, in the playlist, marks the death of Zemo’s family. In the past, dancers have interpretted the melody as a badly injured swan, slowly struggling as they die but still being graceful and elegant as they do. As he searches through the rubble, his hope slowly dies, and in the end his hope dies where his family did. Thus begins his descent into madness in...

Daemon Irrepit Callidus arranged by György Orbán

Daemon Irrepit Callidus is Zemo’s descent into madness. From this point on, he slowly loses his softness. The tone of the songs is often much more modern, pulling away from his roots as a baron and man of high status and leaning into something more gritty for much of the Civil War era in the playlist. He has descended into hell and he believes there is no turning back from here. 

Songe d’Automne performed by The White Star Orchestra

Reportedly (by Harold Bride, surviving Jr Telegrapher who was washed off the deck as the ship sank) this was the last song the orchestra played as the Titanic sank. Zemo is going nuts. ‘Nough said.

If I Believed from Twisted

This song, along with a few more, is an outlier in the Civil War era. It represents his reasoning for what he’s doing. I imagine this song is the feeling he has after he listens to his wife’s last voicemail. He’s doing everything for her, burning a whole superhero organization to the ground so that he can assure nobody else has to live through what he did, but he can’t deny that a part of him wishes he could just bring her back no matter how illogical that is.

How Does A Moment Last Forever (Music Box) from Beauty and the Beast

This is, again, a softer moment. He looks back on the time he spent with his family and tries to keep it safe in his mind. It anchors him to reality and keeps him focused on his goals. The end is coming soon in his mind, so he clings as hard as he can to those remaining memories of peace.

Dies Irae arranged by Giuseppe Verdi

He sets the Winter Soldier loose murders all the remaining soldiers in the Hydra base on his day of reckoning. Yeah, that’s basically it, it’s just hype music as he has his big moment.

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese

His plan has been carried out and now Zemo is simply watching as the world caves in around him. He’s succeeded in all of his plans, the avengers are crumbling, he’s listened to his wife’s voicemail one last time and now he’s ready to be dead. He thinks this is it. Well, until he’s taken into custody and locked up forever. 

Leonardo Dreams Of His Flying Machine arranged by Eric Whitacre

My man Eric is coming in clutch once again. This is Zemo, brilliant mind and all, stuck rotting in jail. He has nothing but his dreams of grandeur to tide him over So, he dreams. He dreams of escape, of his family, of what waits for him once he dies. 8 years of dreaming pass before Bucky finally approaches as Lacrimosa plays.

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Fuck you, Mozart. You’re only here because you played in the show. Moving on. 

The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani 

You cannot tell me that this isn’t what was playing in Zemo’s head as he escaped from maximum security prison and rolled up to that warehouse looking all hot and mysterious. 

Sibella from A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder

Look who’s back! This time, though, I included this because I am adamant that Zemo fucks someone he used to know while he’s escaped and they have a big dramatic love affair. Like, he just does. I don’t make the rules. 

WAP by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion 

Zemo would just love WAP. He says all that woke shit, so like, he vibes with female empowerment and the idea of them taking back their sexuality. He also loves the annoyed look on Bucky’s face when he plays it, so it stays on the playlist. 

The Man I Used To Be from The Count of Monte Cristo

Now, this one is more speculative, but I feel like Zemo will have a minor change of heart. he won't suddenly be a morally straight good guy to the bone, but I think he’s seriously rethinking his ideology and at some point, he might find a way to let go of a lot of the pain and remorse he’s been carrying around. 

No More from Into The Woods

This song, in my mind, takes place at the Sokovian memorial. Zemo is there and he’s so tired of running and fighting and grieving. He just wants to be okay again but he doesn’t know how to. He has this mental moment where he’s asking his deceased father for help and yet the memory (ghost?) of his father, who he resented for most of his life, isn’t helping him straightforwardly. He has to figure it out for himself in the end. This line speaks to me most. “No more giants waging wars. Can’t we just pursue our lives, with our children and our wives? Till that happy day arrives, how do you ignore...” 

and finally...

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep arranged by Laura Farnell

Of all the songs on this list, this one was the only one I was absolutely certain of including and I knew it had to be the last song no matter what else I included. Its contents, a famous poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, could refer to either Zemo or his family. In the case that he visits the monument, it could be the feeling he gets there. Finally, he knows that his family is somewhere better, not buried under the rubble of his home. He’s finally free. 

If he dies at the end of the series though, it takes on a whole new meaning. It’s about him, how he isn’t trapped by his mortal body anymore. He’s now everywhere, both a constant reminder to the world of the atrocities committed in Sokovia and a testament to how powerful a father’s love for his family can be. Once again, he’s finally free to reunite with those he loves, but this time it’s he who isn’t truly dead so long as people heed his life as a warning. 

Wow, this was longer than I thought it would be even when I cut a few songs... I hope you enjoyed!

[kerikaaria]

If I Never Met You: Chapter 26

(??? X Reader) Idol!AU, Manager!Reader

Genre: (PG13) Angst, hurt/comfort, and topped with some fluff

WC: 6.1k

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of a strong panic attack

Series Masterlist

Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27

A/N - If you are having a difficult time, it can be really easy to want to deal with it on your own. But having a support system is so crucial in helping you feel better and getting through the toughest of times. Don't be afraid to reach out to someone if you need it!

Over the holiday season, Bang practically forced me to go home to see my family. It was nearing a year and a half since the last time I saw them and honestly, I was feeling homesick even if I never mentioned it to anyone. Bang PD told me I was not going to have any work to do starting from December 20th until just after the new year, so unless I wanted to sit at home bored I should take the time to see my family. He even handed me plane tickets he had already bought just to drive the point home.

There was basically no way I could say no at that point, so I did what he suggested and went home. Of course I was in contact with my family frequently since I had moved to South Korea and when I explained how busy my job was they understood why it was hard to get time to be able to go back to visit. But talking over the phone or texts was very different from getting to see them in person.

My family was thrilled to see me, and my sister was surprisingly talkative when she asked me a million questions about the boys and what it was like living and working in South Korea. And of course, I had just as many answers and stories to give her.

I got to see my best friend Ari while I was on vacation, and she was more than happy to hear about my new family. She never really listened to K-pop before but I tried my hardest to get her to become a fan of my boys. She wasn’t entirely convinced, but I knew I’d get her one day. I also tried contacting another friend of mine, Jordan. He had been one of my closest friends since we were five years old. But he didn’t respond to me at all, so I guessed he was busy and I could see him next time.

By the time the last few days of my vacation came around, I felt rather strange. I was happy to be home and it had made my homesickness feel better at first, but the longer I was home the more I realized I was feeling homesick again but for Korea and the boys instead. Probably because that’s where I had been for so long, and I spent almost literally every day with them so it was so weird to be away.

But of course our group chat was more active than ever while I was at home. I got messages every day from at least one or two of them about how much they missed me and about what they were up to. And they sent a lot of pictures. Particularly the ’95 line was sending me lots of candid and goofy pictures that they captured both of themselves and the rest of the members. They definitely kept a smile on my face, especially when the others would respond, complaining about the pictures they shared.

Soon enough, it was time for me to go back to my second home. I was still sad to leave my family again, but I was even more excited to get back to my boys and to being busy – which I had become way too accustomed to.

I arrived back in South Korea on January 2, and Sejin even had time to pick me up from the airport himself. We casually chatted about my vacation while he drove me back home and he walked me up to my apartment.

I opened the door to my home, expecting to just lay down and relax for a little while. But when I turned on the light, I was immediately met with seven boys and a whole feast laid out on my table.

“Welcome home!” they all said before taking turns hugging me and telling me how much they missed me.

I was happily surprised, but the significant jet lag didn’t let me show it and made me just look tired. “Hey guys,” I greeted with a tired smile. “This is a nice surprise.”

“We missed you!” Jungkook said, refusing to let me go after being the last one to give me a hug.

I chuckled and gave him a kiss on top of his head. “I missed you guys too. But I can’t believe you guys prepared this for me. It’s not like anything special happened, I was just visiting my family.”

“But you were gone for two whole weeks!” Tae pouted.

“I was starting to feel withdrawal,” Jin said. “I need my honey to be complete.” He blew me a kiss.

Jimin pretended to catch the kiss midair and throw it away.

“Yah!” Jin yelled as Jimin hurried next to me and gave me a peck on my cheek to tease Jin.

“I got to her first,” he sing-songed before running away and Jin started chasing after him.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was still clinging onto me as if I was his lifeline. I looked over to Sejin, silently asking for assistance. He just smiled and shrugged. “They missed you, what can I say?”

“Did I really miss this?” I questioned myself. “Maybe I should just go back home.”

“No!” Hobi yelled, coming behind me to hold me from behind while Jungkook tightened his grip from the front.

“It’s official,” I said. “I’m a prisoner.”

“Yeah, I warned you a year ago that you’re stuck with them whether you wanted to be or not,” Sejin oppa said, chuckling.

“Come on noona,” Joon said. “You know you love us.”

I hummed, pretending to think about it. “I don’t know, maybe you guys just brainwashed me into thinking I do.”

“I have done no brainwashing,” Yoongi said. “If you love us then you’re just crazy.”

“Well I mean, me being crazy is definitely accurate,” I said.

Even though I was tired from the jet lag, I couldn’t let the hard work they put in for this surprise go to waste so I humored them in eating and chatting for a little while. Until they couldn’t help but notice just how exhausted I was and they reluctantly left my apartment to let me get some rest.

As I saw them out of the house and they took turns saying goodbye, Jimin paused for a moment. “In all seriousness though,” he said, “we are super happy that you’re back. And not just that, but hyung is all healed now and is going to be able to do the showcases with us. I kind of felt like our family was a little broken last month without the two of you. But now everything’s back to normal.” He smiled sweetly.

“Aw, Chim,” I said, returning the smile. “It was never broken. But of course, I’m glad things are going back to normal too.” I gave him a strong hug before saying goodbye one more time and he left to join his brothers across the hallway.

There were just a couple of days after I returned before we would go back to Japan for the boys to have two showcases, one in Tokyo and the other in Osaka. The boys (including Yoongi) were practicing and preparing for those performances, while I went back to doing the usual routines at the company with Sejin to make sure that upcoming events were all in order and their comeback for next month was on track.

I easily became re-immersed into my work, but there was a thought that kept lingering in the back of my mind – one that had started before I even returned to Korea.

I was sitting in the dance studio, waiting for the boys to finish their practice for the day so we could all walk home together. Having watched the same routine over several times and being a little tired, my mind started drifting on its own. That tiny inkling of a thought that was hiding in the back of my mind started surfacing more and more the longer I sat there.

I looked again at the message on my phone. “Hey! Long time no talk! I am in town so I wanted to know if you were able to hang out so we can catch up. I miss you!” It was the one I sent to Jordan and hadn’t received a reply on. I knew he was difficult to get ahold of, his family had even told me that they have a hard time reaching him most of the time. But it still bothered me that I received absolutely no reply.

“Noona?” Hobi startled me out of my thoughts when he waved his hand in front of my face. “Everything alright in there?”

“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine,” I responded. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Jordan?” I jumped when I heard Joonie’s voice literally right next to my ear. “Is that a friend from home?”

“Yeah, he is,” I said simply, turning my phone in my hands a couple of times before locking it.

“You’ve never mentioned him I don’t think,” Jin said. “Are you guys close?”

“I’ve mentioned him, just not by name,” I said. “He’s the one who I’ve known since I was five.”

“Ooohhh, that friend!” Hobi said. “You’re always smiling when you talk about him. Did you get to meet up with him?”

I looked down at the black screen of my phone and shook my head. “No, he never responded to me when I texted him.”

“Maybe you should call him, see if you can catch up?” Yoongi suggested. “You look like you miss him.”

“I do,” I admitted easily. “I feel like it’s been ages since we’ve talked but he is easily one of my closest friends.”

“Why don’t you call him now?” Tae said. “It’s a reasonable time there, isn’t it? And it’d be nice for us to talk to him a bit if you guys are really that close.”

I thought about it for a minute before deciding it may be a good idea. “Yeah, maybe I should. He does prefer phone calls over text messages anyway so that might help.”

Everyone seemed to agree they’d hang out to say hi and gathered around me while I hovered my finger over the call button on my phone. “Alright, I’ll introduce you guys before you start talking okay? And please only talk one at a time.” I gave them each a jokingly serious look before and got nods of agreement in return. I finally pressed the green circle and waited for him to answer, placing the phone on speaker. It seemed like it was about to go to voicemail, but he answered at the last minute.

“Hello?” I heard Jordan’s voice for the first time in what felt like forever through the phone.

“Hey, Jordan!” I said, excited to talk to him. “How are you?”

He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

I pinched my eyebrows together in confusion, feeling uneasy. I knew for a fact that I messaged everyone my new number when I had gotten a new phone. “This is (Y/n).”

“Oh!” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize your number. How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” I replied. “I thought I let you know I changed my number. Well, I messaged you last week asking if you wanted to hang out but you didn’t respond.”

“Yeah sorry,” he said. “I didn’t reply since I didn’t recognize the number.”

“Ah, okay. I guess that makes sense.” I noticed that Namjoon was quietly telling the others what we were saying so they weren’t lost. “Well I just figured I’d see if you were able to chat so we could catch up. A lot has happened since the last time we talked.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Jordan said, but he sounded distracted. I was about to reply, but before I could he continued. “But I’m actually kind of busy right now. Can I call you later?”

My heart sank. I’d heard that before. Many, many times before. “O-okay, yeah sure,” I replied. “Talk to you later then.”

“Mmkay. Bye!” Jordan said before hanging up.

“Bye…” I murmured even though the call was done.

A number of memories started zipping by through my mind, slowly connecting dots together. Something I felt like I had known all along, but had refused to believe up until this point. He wasn’t going to call me back. He was never going to call me back. There was no more denying it. I vaguely registered the boys trying to get my attention, but I was too lost in my thoughts to reply.

I suddenly stood up, grabbing my bag and coat before walking out of the room and not saying a single word. I knew what was about to happen and I wasn’t about to let it happen in front of the members of BTS. Not in front of my friends. I didn’t want them to see this side of me.

All the regular staff were gone for the day since it was getting late, so I freely jogged down the halls, letting my feet guide me to wherever they may. My heartbeat was speeding up and breathing becoming ragged, more from the speed of my mind rather than that of my body. I ended up in one front of one of the vocal lesson rooms and deciding that should be a safe enough place to wait out my attack, I entered and leaned against the wall next to the door without turning on the lights.

Now feeling as secure as I could from the possibility of being found, I let my emotions overwhelm me. Tears started streaming down my cheeks as choked sobs escaped my throat. Jordan wasn’t going to call me back. How stupid could I have possibly been? How many years had it been since he’d been playing my emotions like a fiddle?

At least five years, that was for sure. That was my first memory of this pattern developing. My 16th birthday party, when he promised he’d be there but hours passed and he wasn’t answering any of my calls. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought something came up, he was just busy and forgot to tell me. That is, until one of my friends called him from her phone and he didn’t realize she was at my house for the party so he answered. As soon as she asked him why he wasn’t there, he quickly hung up and didn’t answer any more calls after that.

I cried my eyes out that night. My best friend, the person who I trusted more than anyone else. Who had been by my side since we were five years old, and went through  years of school with while we were considered weird and didn’t fit in at all. We were there for each other and didn’t care what other people thought because we were happy being as good of friends as we were and even finding a few other friends along the way who were just as odd. That same friend had purposely ignored me on my birthday.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that I called him again, and he actually picked up. He profusely apologized and came up with some kind of explanation as to why he couldn’t make it. I asked him why he wouldn’t tell me that straight up instead of making me feel terrible that he was ignoring me on a day that was important to me. But he just apologized over and over, promising he wouldn’t do it again and he’d remember to keep in touch with me.

I was too naïve, too hopeful and clinging onto my friendship with him to see that for what it really was: excuses. Just excuses.

My face had to have been a mess by now, completely tear-streaked and all shades of blotchy reds from how much I was already crying. My thoughts were still racing as I recalled various events and empty promises from the years identical to the one I just experienced. I was hyperventilating, and started hitting the back of my head against the wall behind me as if that would rid my mind of all the thoughts swirling around.

When that didn’t work, I gripped onto my hair, pulling tightly. I couldn’t believe I was so blind all this time. I wanted to believe so badly that someone I knew and trusted for that long couldn’t lie to me like that, that I left myself completely oblivious to what was really going on. What was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?

But more importantly, what was it that I did to make him do this to me?

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. It happened too quickly for my overwhelmed mind to comprehend what was going on, much less react before someone’s hands were on top of mine, trying to loosen them from my hair. I knew someone was right in front of me and witnessing my breakdown; the part of my mind that was still logical knew it and wanted me to stop. But my emotions were running the show right now and they weren’t going to listen – they were going to keep going in the spiraling direction they were already headed.

“Oh my gosh, noona!” they said. “What’s wrong?” I recognized it as Hobi’s voice. Our hope, our sunshine. He was seeing me a mess. He surely wouldn’t want anything to do with me after seeing me in this state. “Please, talk to me noona.”

I curled up even further into a ball, hiding my face behind my knees and keeping my hands tightly gripped onto my hair despite Hobi’s best attempts to remove them. I was unable to help myself from continuing to sob, finding it even harder to breathe than before in this new position.

“Guys! She’s in the vocal lesson area!” Hoseok yelled. “Please come here, quick!” he turned his attention to me, starting to make shushing sounds. “It’s okay, noona.” His voice was suddenly quiet and calming, but wasn’t doing much to aid in my racing mind. Although he did finally loosen my hands from their vice grip in my hair. “Noona, it’s alright. We’re here for you. Just please, talk to me.” He was stroking my hair in what I recognized was an attempt to soothe me. But again, I was still too far gone for it to help right now.

I shook my head, face still hidden. “No,” I said. “N-no. no,” I stuttered through hiccupped breaths. “He… He’s n-not… He’s a-a li-liar.” My mind was stuck in English mode so I don’t know if Hobi understood what I said. I started rocking back and forth, beginning to have difficulty maintaining control over my own muscles.

Hoseok continued trying to console me by shushing and stroking my hair, at a loss for what else he could possibly do. I heard others enter the room, pausing when they saw the state I was in.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin’s normally calmingly melodic voice sounded far away, as if I was inside of a fishbowl.

“I don’t know,” Hoseok said. “I found her like this and she won’t talk to me.”

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” a deeper, somewhat raspy voice said, but I could barely hear it.

I thought there were others and that they talked a little bit more but their voices were being drowned out by my mind. More memories, more thoughts. I felt like I wasn’t myself, and I knew I needed to calm down and come back down to earth. But that part of my mind was locked behind metal bars and my emotions were in control now. How could I have been so dumb? I knew what was going on but I refused to see it. It was my fault, I had to have done something for him to do this to me.

My fault. Something was wrong with me. Everyone left me. It had to be me. What was it? Why couldn’t people stay? Why did they always leave? Why, why?

I felt out of control of my own body as I lifted my head and started hitting it against the wall in synchronization with repeating the word “why” through my mind over and over. At least until something held onto my head to stop it from moving.

I was aware of everything I was doing. I knew it was silly and I needed to stop. But I couldn’t, I didn’t feel in control. I started mumbling those same short sentences that had been running through my mind, still being hindered through the hiccupped breaths from hyperventilating. By this point I was feeling dizzy from the lack of sufficient oxygen making it through to my lungs.

One of the hands holding my head still moved to rest on the back of it, gently stroking my hair. Someone else was running their thumbs over my cheeks to wipe away the tear stains. Another hand gently ran up and down the calf of my leg in a calming motion. The combined efforts of these actions started bringing the voices around me back into focus as I slowly opened my eyes.

“Noona,” Jimin’s sweet voice broke through first. I looked at him. “There you are. Hey, it’s okay.” He repeated the last sentence a few times. I realized he was the one caressing my leg.

I heard Jungkook’s calming voice singing a soft song somewhere close by.

“Noona, are you coming back to us?” Hoseok’s voice a little to my left spoke up and I looked his way. He was the one wiping my tears. It took me some effort, but I found the control to shakily nod my head to respond to him.

“You have to breathe, okay?” Jimin said.

“Let’s count in sets of four, noona,” Yoongi’s voice came from my right. “You’ll breathe in, hold your breath, and then breathe out for four counts each. And we’ll keep doing that. You think you can do that?”

I closed my eyes and nodded once more. Yoongi started counting and I did my best to follow the counts, although it was challenging with the short, uncontrolled breaths I had been taking for who knows how long by now. But each time the cycle restarted, it got a little bit better. I was able to focus my mind on the song Jungkook was singing, which kept my thoughts at bay as Yoongi helped my breathing come back to normal.

By the time my breath returned to normal, I felt in control of myself again.

“Welcome back,” Hoseok said with a soft smile as he removed his hands from my cheeks.

I started crying again, hiding my face in my hands.

“Noona,” Hoseok gently called me as he came closer to wrap his arms around me. “Hey, shh it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Oh my gosh.” I could barely even recognize my own voice. It was so weak from all the crying and hyperventilating. “I can’t believe you guys saw me like that. I didn’t want you to ever see me like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jimin said as Yoongi ran his hand along my back to continue trying to comfort me. “We don’t mind. We just want you to be okay.”

“Noona, has this happened to you before?” Yoongi tentatively asked.

I slowly nodded. “You guys think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No, of course not!” Hobi assured me. “Why would we ever think that?”

“Because I literally just acted crazy,” I said, lifting my head to look at Hoseok. “I wasn’t in control of myself. My emotions went absolutely haywire and I had no power over my own actions. How does that not make me look crazy?”

I heard sniffling coming from somewhere nearby.

“You’re not crazy, noona,” I heard Joon’s voice but when I looked for him I couldn’t see him.

“The others are standing outside,” Jimin told me when he noticed me looking. “We couldn’t all fit in here.”

“Just because you had a panic attack, that doesn’t make you crazy,” Yoongi said.

“Do you think you can stand up?” Hobi asked, holding my hands with his own.

I responded by slowly raising myself off the floor, bracing my hands on the wall behind me to help. I was a little wobbly on my feet at first, but could still support myself after a moment.

Hoseok kept hold of one of my hands as I turned to walk out the door, and the first person I saw was Jin. He was holding a wet towel in his hands and used it to gently wipe my face. The water was cool and refreshing, helping my swollen eyes and hot cheeks to feel a little better, and I was sure it helped me look at least a tiny bit less of a mess than I was. He gave me a soft smile after he was done.

“Thank you, Jin,” I said. I looked next to him and saw the other three members, realizing where I heard the sniffling coming from. Tae and Kookie’s eyes were red and somewhat swollen. I gently let go of Hobi’s hand to walk over to them and wrap them both in a hug, and they quickly embraced me back, holding onto me tightly. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t want to worry you guys. I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

“Don’t apologize, noona,” Tae said. “I should apologize. I was the one who told you to call him. It’s my fault.”

I let go of them to grab his face and make him look me in the eyes. “None of that. It’s not your fault. None of us knew what was going to happen. And my fragile mental state is not your responsibility.”

I heard one of the boys make a disapproving whine at my statement, unhappy with how I described myself.

“Let’s get back to the dance studio so we have room to sit and talk, yeah?” Namjoon suggested.

I nodded in agreement, and Jimin was quick to come to my side and entwine his fingers with mine. We walked back in silence and Jimin gently guided me to sit on the couch once we were back in the room, sitting next to me. Hobi took the seat on my other side while the others sat around the floor in front of me.

“Do you want talk about it?” Joonie asked, placing a hand on my knee.

I exhaled a long breath, gathering myself. “I will. I’m sorry, guys. I know that must have been so out of the blue for you and I didn’t mean to scare you. I ran off because I felt the attack coming and didn’t want you guys to see it. I had hoped you wouldn’t have looked for me there.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi was quick to say. “You don’t need to apologize for feeling your emotions. Sometimes they can get the best of you, but that’s okay. It’s not embarrassing. And it’s better to have someone there to help you through it than to go through it alone.”

“I’m glad we did find you,” Hobi said. “Who knows how long you would have been there like that if we didn’t.”

I nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“What was it that plagued that beautiful head of yours, (Y/n)?” Jin asked.

“I know Namjoon was telling you guys what Jordan and I were saying so I’m sure I don’t need to explain that,” I started. They nodded in confirmation. “Well, it definitely may seem like that was nothing to trigger me. But when he said, ‘I’m busy. I’ll call you later,’ it was as if I had an epiphany. I realized that I had heard that from him countless times. So many times that he gave me promises of keeping in touch, of calling me or texting me later. Always to end up being empty. He never kept those promises.”

Jimin started running his fingers through my hair, and I rested my head on his shoulder. I continued, “The first time I noticed something being off was at my 16th birthday party, about five years ago. He was supposed to come but didn’t show and ignored my calls. I talked to him two weeks later and he had this excuse that I just accepted because he was my best friend and I wanted to believe him. But really, he had no reason to ignore me and if he really did have a reason to not show he should have told me from the start.”

I wouldn’t stop fidgeting my hands, so Hobi took one in his and rubbed comforting circles on it with his thumb. “After that, I started getting more and more empty promises. I think I knew for a while, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. But when he told me that this time… I just couldn’t deny it anymore. That I realized every time I got in contact with him, or we managed to meet each other it was by pure coincidence, and it was always me reaching out. Today, he answered my call because he didn’t know it was me. And that wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.”

I closed my eyes, trying to keep myself from crying again. “Over and over and over again, he apologized for not being the one to reach out or not keeping in touch. And he’d promise to change that. But he never did, not even once. For five years. Five. Years. He didn’t have the guts to just tell me that…” I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Saying this out loud, admitting it outside of my thoughts made it too real. “That he just doesn’t care about me or want to be my friend anymore. Is it really that hard to not string someone along, to not lie to them and keep giving them hope that everything’s still okay?”

Hoseok wrapped his arms around me as I leaned further into Jimin’s shoulder, getting his shirt wet with my tears. “How could he just decide it was okay to do that to me? I trusted him and believed in him. He was there for me when no one else was for such a long time. When no one else wanted to be my friend, when I was oblivious to the other kids making fun of us, he was always there. And I was stupid enough to believe he always would be. But that’s the thing – the only thing that’s a definite when it comes to me is that my friends will always leave me.”

“Don’t say that,” Tae said. “Even if that may have happened up until now, you can’t say that’s what will always happen. Because no matter what, we’re not going anywhere, noona.”

I really wanted to argue that there’s no way he could know that, but I didn’t have the energy to debate on that right now.

“What was going through your mind when you were having your attack?” Yoongi asked. “Other than having that realization about him, I mean.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to voice it out loud. The state of my mind definitely amplified them but that didn’t mean that they weren’t things that I didn’t think of more often than I cared to admit. I was hoping we could move onto something else, but my silence spoke volumes. Yoongi seemed too familiar with what I was going through, he must have known that the destructive mannerisms had to come from destructive thoughts as well.

Jimin pulled away a little so he could make me look him in the eye. “Noona, please. We know there are things you may want to keep to yourself, but we really want to make sure you’re okay. Please tell us.”

I sighed, knowing I wasn’t getting out of this. And I wasn’t in a state to come up with a quick lie. “At the worst part,” I started, “the part when I was hitting my head against the wall.” I saw the others cringe or make sounds of displeasure at me recounting that. “I was thinking how it’s my fault. That there has to be something wrong with me that makes people always leave. Because I’m the common denominator, I have to be at fault. And I was asking myself why, what it is that causes it and why I’m like this.”

“Oh, noona,” I heard Jungkook say in a very sad tone.

“How often do you think those things?” Yoongi asked.

“Is this a counseling session or something?” I responded.

“Basically, yeah,” he said without missing a beat. “Please, answer my question.” His sentences may have been short and to the point, but they were full of care.

“I don’t know how often but,” I paused while thinking of how to phrase it, “I wouldn’t call it uncommon.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, (Y/n),” Jin said. “We told you this before. Those people just don’t know how wonderful you are. But we know, and we aren’t planning on giving you up for anything.”

“You say that now,” I mumbled under my breath in English.

“I heard that,” Joonie responded. The others looked at him curiously. “Basically, she implied that we think that way now but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way.”

“We won’t leave you, noona,” Tae said, almost sounding desperate. “We would never want to.”

“It took Jordan eleven years to start to get sick of me,” I replied. “Others only took a few months, some a year or two. But he took eleven years.” I could see on their faces that they knew what I was implying. That even if we were good friends for a very long time, it still didn’t mean it was permanent.

“You are right about one thing,” Hobi said, gently turning my head towards him. “You can’t predict the future. None of us have any idea where we’re going to be in five, ten, or fifty years in the future. But there is something we do know. That right now, you are one of our closest friends. And we all love you and don’t know what we’d do without you. We know that we want you in our lives, and we don’t see that changing any time soon. Just as you don’t know if later down the line we may drift apart, you also can’t say that we won’t be just as close in fifty years as we are now. I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to bet on the latter.” He touched his forehead to mine as he finished his speech.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “I really do love you guys. It just scares me. I’ve never talked much about it with you all because I thought I had it under control, but I have battled anxiety for quite a few years now. I thought it was more or less gone but I’ve been fighting the negative thoughts again lately. I’m doing what I can to keep them under control but that’s sometimes easier said than done.”

“You should be open about it with us,” Jin said. “If you tell us something is bothering you then we can help.”

“I’ll try to be,” I said.

“Noona,” Taehyung maneuvered his way through his hyungs to sit right in front of me. “We love you. And we’re here for you. You’re always here for us, so let us be there for you. Hmm?”

I gave him a soft smile. “Okay, Taetae. I love you guys too.”

He extended himself toward me to include himself in the already tangled embraces of myself, Jimin, and Hobi. And the rest of the boys took that as their cue to pile in for a big, chaotic group hug that ended with us all laughing because of how awkward of a fit it was.

“Oh!” Jungkook exclaimed as we all righted ourselves again. “Can we have a sleepover again? It was so much fun last time.”

“I live right across the hall from you guys, it is literally unnecessary,” I said.

“We don’t care,” Joonie said, grabbing my things. “I vote yes for the sleepover.”

And soon enough the rest of the boys were all voicing their agreements to the notion as well.

My anxiety really might get the best of me sometimes, but one thing was for sure. Where I was right here, right now, surrounded by these people – this was a place I could be happy. And I planned on cherishing it for as long as I possibly could.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27

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[bennybentacles]

hargreeves as the hearbreaks of the roaring 60's

luther is sweet and timid, soft smiles and gentle nudges, mouth making soft sounds and full of questions. he is blunt and cruel with mouth that spits blatant truths, he refuses to sugar coat things, he is petty and unforgiving, holds grudges like a vice grip. he is sad songs played in a juke box, a sweet melody hummed on the way to work, a nostalgia you cant quite shake off, a taste of bitterness that seems to cling of on the roof of your mouth, unable to wash off. he is the soft glow on the streetlight, the gentle nudge of the wind, the harsh booming thunder and the ravenous fire. and he is untouchable and oh so beautiful

diego is soft whispers and ghosting fingers, he is lingering touches and quick glances, he is the smell of flowers that mixes with the very air that you breath in. he is harsh words and cruel sneer, he is the raging fire and cutting look, he is blazing iron to the flesh, always leaves am ugly scar whenever he goes by. he is the whistle in the air when an item is thrown too fast, he is the detached last message in your voicemail, the last awful word that you can never forget no matter how much you drink. he is the flowers that seemed to thrive despite you forgetting to take care of it, he is the eye of the hurricane. both peaceful and destructive.

allison is wide smile in her painted lips, she is full of promises, she is a wonderland, the ground she walks in deserves to be worshipped upon, she is addicting. she is missed calls and forgotten anniversary, a stain that never seemed to come off, a chip in the varnished wood, one that you can never ignore, she is a cigarette smoke that clings into your dress, a nicote stain in your fingers. she is an adventure, late night stargazing and early sunrise watching, she is the background music in your life, she is the wild flower in the cracks of the road surviving despite the hardship, she is the smell of the cologne of your love one that never seemed to wash off years after they left. she is the painful reminder on how beautiful she really is and how you can never find someone like her again.

klaus is the manic laughter and the crackling fire, a haunting melody played in the witching hour, a taste of sugar amidst the bitterness, he is the hug that you cherish even after he has already let go, he is the fist sunlight that hit your eyes in the morning. he is the harsh gunshot and the booming crack of the lightning, he is the glass shattering and knife hitting bone, he is the cruel reality. a harsh reminder, a reality checker, he is the belt hitting your skin, creting a sick version of art, he is the trip when you take too much and your heart seemed to be replicating the pouring rain on a thunderstorm. he is the vision that you see when you are about to pass away, he is the stillness in the midnight, he is the quiet mornings when the weather is just right, he is the devastating forest fire that took claim to millions of life. he is gorgeous and he leaves a path of destruction in his wake

five is the fast days, when everything just go by and you are left shellshocked for a moment, he is a freight train, he is the smell of coffee and the sweet smell of bread, he is the shoes that you have already worn in, he is the seat that you always favoured. he is angry, a hot lova burning you quick, the pounding of a hammer to a nail that breaks it apart, he is the smudge in the crisp white paper, he is hottest day of the year, the flood after the rain. he is magical, a fae that leaves you disoriented, he is the wind that ruins your hair, the lipstick that matches you well, the glasses that never helped you read even tho it says its the one matching for you. he is clever and yet he never tried to bend so that he can match with somebody

ben is small smirks and quiet laugh, he is the calm in the middle of a vintage shop, he is the smell of the old bookstore, a gentle lifting of the page of a book, a murmur of a prayer to a lonely god, an apology that barely left the mouth. he is the longing of a love one lost in the war, an emptiness after a great mental breakdown, the harsh sobs in the losing battle, he is the blood between the nails and the damaged gaze into nowhere, he is the laugh that is too hallow and empty, a smile too vacant and a cry too emotionless. he is the pitter patter of the tiny feet in the hardwood, the echoes of what used to be, a mockery of what couldve been, he is the soft smell of burning candle, he is the melting point of brass, a gentle flow of a quiet river and the quiver of a intense earthqauke. he is too pretty yet to sad and he is the most wonderful person youll ever see

vanya is the laughter that escaped your mouth by accident, she is the smile to you give to children that looks at you at the grocery, the gently smiles you send to older people that pass you on the street, the gentle nudge on the leave that juts out of the bush, the undignified squeal that you give to the dogs you pass by and the replica of a cats meow the you do when you see one. she is the vinyl that scratches on the recorder, the breaking of your favorite mug, the wet puddle that got in your boots, the dry leaves that didnt crunch when you step on it. she is the orchestra playing the unfinished melody, the cry that lifts off your mood afterwards, she is the aching in your back when you sat too much, the hot chocolate in the coldest winter, she is the harsh spotlight and the soothing cold in the middle of a hot fever. she came with the light and she took it with her when she left