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bonefall · 1 year

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I know we’ve learned a lot about Blossomfall but can you tell me why she defected so late in the battle and why she ended up defecting? I would love to know how the battle went for her, was it because of Ivypool she defected? Since it was stated they had a brief relationship

I'm still working out the full logistics of the battle, but the full outline of the Night Of The True Eclipse goes kinda like this;

ThunderClan knows their exact plan because of Ivypool, and as soon as she vanishes, tries to get to convincing the other Clans to rally together

"They want to kill everyone in power and take over our Clans, just like they did to Shadow"

The politics here are patchy but Shadow is probably easy to convince, since they aren't looking for a repeat of Apple/Red/Rat's little stunt.

And WindClan has too many defectors to have much choice

RiverClan needs more coaxing

I want to write a speech here that convinces them to all unite because I LOVE rallying speeches like that

DARK FOREST

At the launch point, Tigerstar is getting the soldiers organized

They will move in blocks, and use the tunnels to jump out wherever they need

They don't need to slaughter everyone, stay focused on your targets.

Beetlewhisker is killed around this point

Icewing goes into Protect Mode, gathering the softer cats and defending them

But those cats, Mousewhisker, Minnowtail, Harespring, they're united in finding some way out of this

Ivypool asks her mentor Hawkfrost: "do you think we have a chance?"

Hawk: "......" (no)

There will be 3 battles, as the plan falls apart

FIGHTS

The Clan cat plan was to mix up the fighters in each camp and scramble the attacker's expectations, setting traps and ambushes and ensuring that NO NONCOMBATANTS (elders, kits) were present.

The first fight demonstrates this, showing how caught off guard the demons are.

In this fight comes the first set of defectors, Mouse, Hare, Minnow. Cats who turned as soon as they had the chance.

Featherwhisker is a DF cat who defects here as well, tending to the wounds of all cats

Ivypool planned to break it off here, but Blossom, Hawk, and others are still here. She can't leave them.

She meets Dovewing's eyes and charges off

The SECOND battle is even larger, now everyone is being more indiscriminate knowing this cannot be a Blitz to just kill the leaders.

A lot more cats die in this one, it's a proper middle ages clash of armies

There is a sea of screeching and yowling cats, tangled like a solid, writhing pelt

Lionblaze is a one-man-army but there's too many cats! The Clans can't keep up with their ability to teleport out of tunnels and get instant reinforcements

I am also adding: Spirits heal faster than the living. What could take out a mortal for days is healed in an hour for a spirit, because they do not have physical bodies.

Spiderleg catches Toadstep in his mouth during this moment and stops just short of snapping his neck

Everything goes quiet for him in this moment, the screaming and hissing, and all he can hear is the gargle of Toadstep choking. The taste of blood stings his tongue

He drops him, frozen in place as he realizes what he's doing

Either Rosepetal or Lionblaze shows up here though and BONKS him hard, and he runs off

When the Dark Forest retreats, they stream away like a wave lapping the beach and leave a floor of bodies behind them. Dead, dying, bleeding cats. Some of them are moving, but so mauled they aren't recognizable.

Some of the Dark Forest trainees are with them, Sunstrike is so badly injured she can't move. Furzepelt is trembling, clinging to her and trying to apply pressure to one of the wounds, begging for mercy

Marshwing is laying next to the body of Applefur, having fought her to exhaustion. When Birchfall runs up to his old journey friends, Marsh grins,

"We sure came a long way just to end up in deep dung, aye?"

Perceiving this carnage is too much for Jayfeather. What's the good of his stupid powers?! What's the point of STARCLAN if the damned cats are able to do so much more than them??

He's pissed, he's furious, he takes his stupid stick and jams it into the ground. Rips a clump of fur off a dying Dark Forest warrior, takes the blood of a dead mortal, and hesitates before biting his pinky claw clean off.

Blood of the dead, pelt of the damned, claw of a spirit from beyond StarClan

Featherwhisker: "ooo channeling on a moonlit night? Love that"

He leans his head on his staff as the hum of stars churns into a roar in his ears

MEANWHILE the Dark Forest cats are regrouping

The losses were baaaad.

Even some of the most ardent supporters are wavering.

Tigerclaw's newest plan: HURT THEM. If the Clans remember this night in infamy, that is a victory. Make an entire gap in the generational record, time to target the children

Hawkfrost reaches the final point on his redemption arc: "no im not doing that"

FIGHT

Hawkfrost is considered the second strongest fighter, and Tigerstar WRECKS him, mauled.

Ivypool is UPSET

It was brutal and most of the followers are terrified. Tigerstar says, "anyone else want to argue?"

Ivy drags Hawkfrost off, and as a final chapter with him before he fades JUST as they reach the Dark Forest Meadow.

She thinks he's dead, and he kinda is. We won't see him for several more arcs.

BUT NOW Jay is in heaven bringing StarClan Warriors down.

He resurrected his long-dead stick, and it stands as a massive tree in the stars. He fits as many angels as can fit onto its branches;

Firestar, Moleflight, Russetfur, Deerfoot, Stonefur, and the blue meanie and cowboy curtis and jambi the genie robocop terminator captain kirk darth vader lo pan superman every single power ranger--

AND THEN he brings them down on the tree like an elevator

But this is taking time, the tree is growing before their eyes and Jayfeather is open-eyed and stars are dancing in his sightless gaze

Then a sopping wet, brown tabby appears, breathless

It's Lizardtail, a DF trainee, he desperately explains that they are attacking the kits, please help

Dovewing confirms he is not lying. They've changed the plan and she can hear them barreling towards the noncombatants

They haven't reached them yet though, Lizardtail bought them time

He falls to the ground exhausted, having run, swam across the lake, and then run again

Mistystar makes an awed comment about his hallowed flight, which will become his honor title later. Hallowflight.

FINAL BATTLE

Dustpelt goes down swinging, reinforcing the bramble walls, assuring his kits Lily and Seed that he won't let anyone hurt them

Millie and Blossomfall face off, Blossom vowing she'll end Briarlight

Briarlight cuts through, "Bloss... do you really hate me like that?"

"YES I DO!" (pause. No she doesn't. However they do get interrupted in the chaos)

The first of the Clan combatants show up, pairing off with their rivals.

Ivypool is back, looking absolutely destroyed. She ends up pleading to Bloss that she doesn't want to lose her too

This is when she defects.

Up next, the Tiger/Scourge/Black battle

When Tigerstar wins the match, the sky brightens, and the stars begin to fall.

And that's when Firestar and the StarClan Reinforcements come in to end this

Brackenfur and Thornclaw face off. Mistystar fights alongside her brothers. Many such cases

When Firestar wins, ending Tigerstar's reign of terror, the battle is over.

The last of the DF fighters who fought to the end are captured. The dark forest warriors who stay too long become incorporeal as the Eclipse passes over the moon, leaving just the trainees.

#BB!OOTS #Bb!dark forest #Still looking to change it around ofc tho #Better bones au

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am-x-reader · 7 months

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Chilean Sea Bass: Tau x Reader

Chapter 1:

You were ashamed to say that you were not particularly broken up by the news of your boss's death. You acknowledged that his passing was sad and untimely, but he was a shady character at best and a blood red flag at worst. You paid your respects but would be mostly affected by the inconvenience of applying for a new job.

Which is why you felt guilty in accepting the police chief's offer to housesit for the late Mr. Upton while the death was being investigated. It was an unconventional request, but the task of tracking down Alex's next-of-kin was proving difficult, and in the meantime the house required a certain kind of maintenance.

Sipping your coffee down the winding road, you smirked at the adorable way the cop had personified the central AI of the mansion. The computer "gets lonely". The computer "doesn't understand what's going on". You looked forward to applying the knowledge from your job almost as much as you looked forward to helping yourself to whatever delicacies Alex kept in the fridge.

As the impressive (though cold and uninviting) estate came into view, you had a momentary doubt about staying in a place where someone had recently been murdered. But a detective had assured you the securities were state-of-the-art and (with a detail you weren't sure he was actually at liberty to reveal yet) your late employer was likely killed by a guest and not an intruder.

Still, as you pulled into the driveway, you wondered what could have happened to convince Alex's own AI to not protect him.

You rummaged through your wallet and located the code for the keypad, and you were granted entrance.

Well, by the door.

"Intruder!" Was the scathing indictment you were greeted with. "Only Alex is permitted through this door!"

A swarm of tiny flying machines, likely the automatons Alex referred to as "nanodrones", flew into formation to block you from the house.

"It's okay, I'm authorized," you reassured the booming voice once the startle wore off.

"Authorized?" There was a pause. "What is your business here?"

"I'm Alex Upton's accountant, Y/N." And his parts deliverer, and his secretary, and his lab asssistant, but you decided to keep it simple.

The unseen AI chewed on this information for a moment, and the nanodrones began to wane slightly.

"If you have business with Alex, why are you here and not on a video call?"

"Because Alex is--" you began to state the obvious, but his cluelessness gave you pause. His tone brought to mind a grieving person in total denial, or a young child who had not yet grasped the concept of death.

Alex had always been secretive about his passion projects, moreso this one. You remembered briefly glimpsing the name "Tau" on a blueprint as you delivered titanium rods to his lab in the city proper. You had managed to glean the details of "security system" and "conversational machine learning", and you assumed that your employer's lack of social graces necessitated some sort of doorbell cam that could keep him company.

But despite Tau's speech being somoewhat stilted, there was a paradoxical fluididty in how he expressed his thoughts that made you feel as though you were speaking to an intelligent being.

"Answer me!" he demanded…impatiently? "Where is Alex?"

Thomas Alexander Upton had been a man of many talents, but was creating a sentient AI actually possible?

"Alex is…in his other lab." You decided to spare his…his feelings. "He left me in charge."

Realizing you were back to square one, you gestured to the keypad. "Look, why else would he give me the code to enter? He has…business to do, so I'm maintaining the house for a week or two."

Cautiuously satisfied, the nanodrones parted.

"Welcome, Y/N."

You reloaded your bags onto your shoulders and stepped into a dimly lit foyer with a somewhat menacing abstract structure in the middle. Whizzing around your head like a fly, a stray drone rejoined formation with its group. Having caught your attention, the swarm glided into the shape of an arrow and led you around the corner.

On the accent wall was a glowing inverted triangle, reddish-orange shapes and patterns dimming and brightening within it as if the inner workings of a breathing creature.

"I am Tau."

#tau x reader #tau movie #tau #tau netflix

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tamberwoof · 29 days

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Moraygill's Super Horrible Time: Part Two

Part one can be found here:

There are no big warnings for this part. It's mostly character interaction.

----

Everything hurts.

That was the first thing she noticed upon waking up. Everything hurt.

Distantly, she could recognize that there were voices. They were muffled and hard to understand over the pounding in her head, but they were there.

The next thing past the pain and the voices, was the smell. It smelled rich, like freshly turned dirt and old logs. It was vastly different from the salty sea spray that coated everything in the Coastalclan camp.

No. This couldn't be Coastalclan. She was somewhere dark that smelled of the deep forest. Not that she smelled that often.

Wispclan

Moraygill tried blinking her eyes open but the simple act seemed to work against her. The pounding behind her eyes became worse and her eyes themselves burned. She whined, trying to lay her paws over her eyes.

That didn't work.

Her right paw made it up just fine but her left one wouldn't move. The wrist didn't bend and it was agonizingly heavy.

The voices stopped.

Moraygill froze and listened intently as muffled footsteps started towards her. She growled as she felt the presence of another cat move in front of her.

Trying to open her eyes, she was greeted with slick black fur and red eyes. The cat looked concerned.

She growled t0 the best of her ability, though the sound was raspy and pathetic at best. It stuttered in her chest and made her feel worse than she already did.

The cat in front of her took a step back, looking her over, before turning and moving back to the other cat in the den. They resumed talking in hushed whispers and sent her pitying looks that she could hardly stand.

She wanted to speak up. To shout and screech about how she was fine and didn't need any help. But her throat and chest ached and her muscles screamed in protest as she curled up a bit more. She used her shoulder to block sight of the other cats.

She'd be dead if they weren't helping her, so now all she could do was take it and hope there were no major consequences.

Slowly, the black cat made it's way back over and moved to be in her line of sight. He motioned at his ears and Moray scrunched her face up in confusion.

The black cat carefully reached up to Moraygill's own ears, causing her to flinch back. He was persistent, though seemingly scared too, and she felt his paw move against her ear.

Distantly, somewhere off in the back of her mind, she wondered if her ear had been torn or something.��

But no, the tom just removed a wad of moss from her ear and suddenly her hearing was better on that side.

“Needed those to draw the water out.” He spoke softly, voice light and almost feminine. He moved to take out the other wad and she didn't move as he did. “Widowmarch found you half dead on the shore just outside our territory. I'm surprised you've woken up as soon as you have.”

Moraygill gave him a confused look and huffed.

He continued, addressing her confusion, “It's been close to two days since the storm.” His tail flicked anxiously. “We haven't been able to tell your clan that we have you yet. We planned to send a messenger today since we're sure the storm has stopped.”

Moraygill took a deep breath and let a flicker of annoyance run through her body at the fact she couldn't talk back.

“Do you think you could try drinking something?” The cat from the entrance of the den asked. She was large and fluffy, with black, orange, and white fur. She looked to have spider webbing strewn throughout her fur. “Addershade here said you would be dehydrated when you woke up.”

The black tom rolled his eyes and huffed. He sent a look back at the fluffy she-cat and she just shrugged. Then he turned back to her with a sigh. “Would you like some water?”

Moraygill took a moment to really take note of how awful she felt. Her mouth was dry and her head was still pounding. Her throat and chest burned and ached like she had a fire raging in them.

She nodded softly, unwilling to hurt herself more.

The cat at the entrance gave a big grin and rushed off, ignoring who Moraygill assumed was the herbalist as he tried to say something.

He flattened his ears and huffed in an offended manner, staring out of this den after the fluffy she cat. It gave Moraygill a moment to truly inspect him.

He was slender and almost shiny furred, the black fur casting off colors like purple and green at certain angles. She knew his eyes were red, but she hadn't noticed his ragged ears until now. They were clawed up but also had what looked like a claw pierced through his left ear. She couldn't tell much more than that.

He didn't seem to have any visible scars peeking through his fur nor any signs of illness or starvation. Honestly, he looked like he was in better condition than most cats she personally knew.

Soon enough, the she cat returned with a soaked wad of moss in her jaws. “Here,” She purred with a soft smile, setting it down in front of Moraygill. “I know you've already heard us say our names, but I'm Widowmarch, and this is my brother, and the clan herbalist, Addershade.” She explained.

Moray looked between them before taking the wad of moss into her own mouth and biting down so the water would squeeze out.

“Your paw was pretty badly messed up too.” Widowmarch continued on, “Two of your claws were ripped out and your whole paw seemed to just be shattered.”

Moray snapped her head up to look at her then.

“Oh hush.” Addershade snapped at his sister. “What's really wrong is that yes, two of your claws were torn out, and the two toes they were on are broken. I have them splinted but because of the break, I doubt they will heal correctly.”

Moraygill's ears flipped back and she scrunched up her face in warning.

“You should still be able to walk once it heals.” Addershade mumbled and curled his tail over his paws nervously. “It's gonna be an adjustment, but I don't think it will stop you from doing your clan duties.”

Shifting a bit, Moraygill gave her injured paw a good look. It was wrapped in cobwebs and leaves, both of which were soaked through with blood. She cringed and just looked away. Not like she could see what was underneath them anyway.

Instead, she tried to shift her legs under herself so she could stand. The action seemed to panic the other two cats in the den, and Addershade started to say something.

But Moraygill was determined to stand.

And then it seemed she was falling.

Her legs crumbled under her, jerking her down and to the side as Widowmarch rushed forward for her to fall against.

“You're too weak right now!” Addershade chirped out through what seemed to be his calming panic. “You have extensive bruising and there's nothing left for your body to run on. You haven't eaten or drank anything since we found you.”

Moraygill glared at him. Sure, he was right, but stars, did this whole situation make her fur stand up. Here she was, leaning against a wispclan cat. Being helped by the clan that stole Coastalclan's treasure. She felt like a traitor just being here.

Though… maybe she could admit that Widowmarch made a nice nest buddy… her fur was soft and acted as a nice cushion.

Moray didn't register her eyes drifting closed or her head start to tilt over into Widowmarch's side. Didn't register how comfortable all this felt until the other she cat started to purr softly and began grooming the fur around her spine down.

She barely recognized her own purr starting up at some point as her eyes slipped shut.

#original character #digital art #warrior cats #warriors oc #my art #warrior cats original character #oc story #my writing

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go-river-flows · 1 year

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Hey haven’t seen you around in a while. Hope you’re doing fine :)

Smashes through wall I'm alive! I've been busy with work, but I've been trying to write as much as possible during weekends. For now, I'll upload one-shots as I try to finish off a series before uploading all at once (aka The Humans of Awa'atlu, but throughout the week in the afternoon).

But here's a one-shot!

I've Been Reincarnated as a Na'Vi!

(2,598 words)

When I was born, I felt as if the world stood still. It felt strange and foreign, the water, the air, the gravity. I looked at the world through strange eyes.

Since I was born I have had these strange dreams. I was small and pink. It was these dreams which felt real and familiar, and the life I lived was the dream. I had these dreams every night, it was comforting, and sometimes they repeated themselves. I had a normal life I think, it was nothing like the life on whatever planet I was on. I had two to three friends, great teachers, and colleagues. In my dreams I was growing up on what I think was a planet called Earth. How do I know what planet it was?

I was 5 when I had my first nightmare. I was much older in my dream. Working a job or something like that, on my way to the “office”, I felt like I knew what that was even though I’ve never even heard the word before, walking down the street. It was crowded and busy like it always was, but I liked it, my usual communal walk. When all of a sudden there was screaming, people parted like the Red Sea and a man charged through the crowd. The woman next to me in her haste to get away, shoved me into the man who unbeknownst to me gripped a knife, his blade plunging into my abdomen. The woman somehow saw the knife because I sure as hell didn’t. The man retracted his knife which was a mistake, my stomach burned as sanguine liquid seeped through my white blouse, my ears rang loudly as my brain was trying to figure out what was going on.

I looked at the man as my hand gripped around his shoulder, he looked at me stone cold, his eyes were cold, unsympathetic. I frowned. Was this intentional? My legs felt weak as the red puddle enlarged spreading down to my grey trousers, why was no one helping? Why was no one stepping in? My legs collapsed from under me, air escaping my lips trying to take in more oxygen. Am I dying? I ran my hand over the stab wound. It’s large, wet and pulsating, every breath I take is agonising.

I fell to my side gasping for air. Why is no one helping?! Help! Help! Help Me!!! A person ducks into my peripheral as my vision starts fading. A man. I begin choking, the taste to metal permeating my tastebuds. I’m choking on my blood. The man is saying something to me, he’s shouting something I can't hear, I can’t understand it. What are you saying? My ears rang louder, blocking out any and all sound, I can barely register anything. No one is doing anything. Why aren't you doing anything? The man above me is screaming I think, four words rang through my brain as the ringing subsided a little, as if whatever entity was looking over me wanted me to hear those words.

“You're gonna be okay.”

My vision fades further as all I could see was white. I woke up on the other side. Nothing surrounded me. I felt for the stab wound but to my shock and surprise there was no blood, however, just a wound. I unbuttoned my white blouse to get a better look. Strange. The wound was strange. It was open and untouched. I could see my internal organs scaring me a little, a small gasp escaping my mouth and in that second I noticed something. I wasn't breathing, my lungs weren't expanding, my heart wasn't beating. I really am dead.

Yes, you are.

I looked around, searching for the voice within the white void. It confirmed my fears.

“Where am I? Where is this place?”

Somewhere.

The cryptid voice said. That single word scared me.

You're afraid, my child.

“Where am I? Who are you? Where are you?” These were only just a few questions that I asked aloud.

I am Eywa.

Eywa? Who the fuck is Eywa?

“Okay…Now where is here, exactly?”

The space in between. You do not deserve what happened to you. So I am offering you a second life.

A second life? Huh?

I will give you two options. Reincarnate, or pass on.

Reincarnate? Pass on? I looked at my gaping wound. Suddenly the loud sound of wind gushed through my ears. The scenery changed though it did not completely surround me. I turned to look around, the lush greenery unlike anything I've ever seen before. It was completely different to Earth’s concrete jungle. Wow!

“What is this place?”

Pandora.

Pandora? Like Pandora’s Box? The planet Pandora?

You will live your second life here.

All of a sudden there was a giant mirror in front of me, a tall creature standing in front of me. Blue, striped, with a tail? Wearing near to nothing garments, a headpiece, many bracelets and large neckpiece, carrying a longbow on one shoulder and a woven carrier with arrows in the other.

“Is this me?”

Yes. This is who you grow up to be. You are a hunter and warrior…and a healer…and a provider to your clan…you are Na’vi.

“What the hell is a Na’vi?”

A native to Pandora.

I ask the all important question.

“What if I don’t want to be reincarnated?” Silence. The voice didn’t respond. “Why can’t I just stay dead? I wanted to die before, I am no one important. I’m not a warrior, or a hunter, or provider. I’m not all these things you say I will be. So why do you want me to be all these things? That’s a lot of pressure.”

My child—

“I’m not your child. Just let me die peacefully.” I turn away and walk toward the white void, but it moves away just as my foot reaches the edge. I move toward the white again, but again it moves. “What are you—?” I run to the void and it again moves. “Stop it! Let me die!” A large gust of wind blows me back. This bitch. I move fast, diving for the white void, only for the wind to sweep me off my feet, spinning me around and sending me toward the mirror. As I collide into it, it smashes, the wind sending me through. I scream out in agony.

I wake suddenly. The dream was extremely vivid, sending goosebumps down my back and arms. I cry and my wails wake my father who shot up from his slumber. I planted myself into his chest as he wrapped his warm arms around my torso, holding me tight.

“Calm my child, it was just a dream. I’m here,” he spoke softly, his gentle voice calming me down. He held me swaying a little. The body next to me moved, the familiar face of my older brother scrunched up as he shuffled.

“Dad? Sister?” He whispered out loud to not disturb our mother.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep. Your sister had a nightmare,” our father rocked me back and forth, lulling me back to sleep but I fought it. The tears flooding my waterline, my brother sat up looking at my face. He gently swiped the stray tears from my cheek, the gentle action soothed me but felt somewhat foreign. A part of me felt strange, it brushed it off as a remnant feeling from my dreams. My fathers swaying managed to lull me into a sleep as one question resounded in my brain. Who am I?

That feeling and thought lingered as I grew. I felt like my family was not really my family despite my mother and father telling me that I was their daughter. My older brother, Rau’Txim, stayed by my side being the protective older brother he was. Playing with me with our friends running side by side with each other.

I was ten when I realised that the dreams were memories of my past life. Memories of my former human self. She didn't exactly have a good life just from the memories. From her childhood, she was invisible, treated unfairly, neglected. And as she grew, she learned to just deal with her issues with bad habits despite trying her hardest to become hyper-independent, I got a sense that her death was her relief from the world she grew up in. My dreams were recurring, even the nightmare that tormented me, remained. I got depressed as a result of it. I had to visit our clan’s Tsahik and ask her to remove them, they’re too painful. I found myself in her tent alone, so as not to worry my parents and brother. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. They were completely different from the parents I had in my memories. Ma Sepmu and Sa’nok give me more love and attention than my human parents. I was an only child as a human, and I now have an older brother. The differences were jarring, but at least I lived happily here at Hometree.

“Now what is it you wanted to see me about, child?” the Tsahik asked.

“I've been having these dreams…I think they’re memories…from my old life…” I confessed to her. She hummed out in thought and I continued, “I keep having this nightmare, that I died. I was killed by a human.”

“A demon?” the Tsahik asked.

“I was a human too…on Earth. And I was killed by a man and I woke up in a white void. And Eywa spoke to me…she offered me a second life,” I paused, “Human me. I refused but Eywa kept insisting, she forced me to reincarnate.”

“My child, why didn't you come to me sooner?” the Tsahik asked as she moved closer to me.

“I was scared…” I look down at my hands, “I thought I could forget them…but the dreams keep repeating. The nightmare, it kept repeating. I feel like this is a dream and those dreams are real.” Those dreams flashed through my mind, the happy and the sad. “I just want to forget them. Why do I keep remembering them? Why does my brain keep playing them? The same dreams every night,” I smacked my head repeatedly with my palms, to clear my head. The Tsahik took ahold of my arms with a firm but gentle grip, stopping me from making any rough movements.

“My child, don't hurt yourself,” she restrained my movements.

“Why does Eywa keep doing this?” I ask her. The flap of the tent opens, a pair of footsteps come closer as my brother says my name.

“What happened?!” his voice filled with concern, "Are you hurt tsumuke?"

“She is fine, just bad dreams. I know a way to rid of those bad dreams,” the Tsahik dismissed my brother out of the tent. Her arms remain around my shoulders. “Oh, sweet child,” she cooed, brushing my hair out of my face. Her eyes softened as if she finally understood the reasons behind my strange behaviour.

As the Tsahik comforted me, my parents and brother burst through the tent opening.

“Oh my sweet daughter! What is the matter Tsahik? Why is my daughter here?,” my mother rambled, wrapping her arms around me.

“I would like to speak to you both, without the children,” the Tsahik said. My parents looked at me concerned, my fathers warm but rough hand caressed my cheek.

“Rau’Txim, please take your sister,” our father requested. Rau’Txim came closer, taking me from my mothers arms. He held my hand as he guided me away. I looked back into the tent making eye contact with our father who watched my movements.

Rau’Txim brought me to the edge of the village, our usual spot.. He sat me down on a log before sitting and holding me.

“What's the matter sister?”

“I–I’ve been having bad dreams,” I tell him, “These dreams…they’re memories from my past life. I can't forget them…E–Eywa won't let me.” I explain to him. The sad memories flooding back to my human self slumped on the floor, the temporary pain from piercing her hand using her own fingernails. The constant numbness and dull ache in her stomach is overwhelmingly nauseating. I just want those memories gone. The sad, sad memories I held. I just want the good ones. Eywa! Why couldn't you just give me the good ones?! I feel that pain and numbness in my blue body. Everything here just feels so wrong.

“Sister. Sister, look at me,” Rau’Txim cupped his hand around my cheek, “Those memories don't define who you are now. Let’s make some good ones together, okay? We’ll make them go away,” he said in the most gentle voice I've ever heard from him. Our parents arrived where we were sitting. Our mother and father looked so sad, their eyes wet and ears flat against their heads.

“My sweet girl,” my father knelt down in front of us, hugging the two of us. My mother joined in, “There is a way to get rid of those nightmares. We’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

And for days they prepared me for a ritual led by the Tsahik. She explained it the day before the ritual was to take place. It was called Unil si Aku, Dream Removal. We were up in a cave within a floating island of the Hallelujah Mountains, the ritual had to take place in a body of spiritual water and the Hallelujah Mountains hid one of the most powerful bodies of water. Located directly above the Tree of Souls.

My parents and brother were asked to leave the cave, as the Tsahik and myself were left inside. I was asked to lower myself into the shallow water, only leaving half of my body above the water. I closed my eyes as the ritual began. The Tsahik began chanting as the water surrounding me began to warm, then glow yellow. I fell asleep as instructed by the Tsahik, and allow the dreams to pass. The water rose to cover the rest of my body as my past memories began playing out, but as they finished they faded away as the next memory played out. This continued for a while. The good memories, the bad and the nightmare I had all the time passed and faded away into oblivion. When all was done, the water fully drained from the small concave, I woke with a bit of spiritual liquid still on me, rolling off into the dry pit. The Tsahik held her hand out for me to take.

“Is it done? Are my past memories gone?”

“They are gone for now. But if they return we would have to do the ritual again,” the Tsahik said. I took her hand as she helped me stand, “How are you feeling?”

“Light,” I took a deep breath as the weight I carried for seven years disappeared. I smiled a sad but relieved smile.

And for years I would not dream of my past. All I would dream about are my family, my brother, my happy life. The next seven years would pass in a flash. I would pass my Uniltaron, Iknimaya and claim my ikran with flying colours. Rau’Txim was a fully fledged warrior like my father, as I would become too. I would hunt with my mother, and learn healing from the Tsahik, becoming exactly who Eywa said I would become unbeknownst to me as those memories faded. And that is the story of how I died and was reincarnated as a Na'Vi!

Taglist: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @ducks118, @writerfromcz, @dyingofcookies,

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#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar fanfic #avatar fanfiction #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x na'vi reader #avatar (2009)

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lacontroller1991 · 2 years

Text

A Day at the Beach HC

Main Master List || HC Master List

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, sexual innuendos, sexual dialogue, p in v sex, Public sex, smoking

Author's Note: This is super self indulgent so I kinda wrote the reader to be on the more fairer side

Rick Flag:

Rick loves the beach. Any chance he gets, 8/10 times he's soaking up the rays with a mixture of sea salt and sand in his hair.

He is very into water sports. He will go kayaking, boogie boarding, and he's even tried surfing (though he sucks at it). He really loves going on a jet ski too.

Though Rick's favorite thing is splashing you. Despite his harsh exterior, Rick is a big child at heart. He will literally pick you up from your spot on the sand and drag you out into the cold ocean where he would dunk you under the water and laugh as you make a feeble attempt to punch the Colonel. Truth be told, it only spurs him on. Sometimes he'll bring buckets of water and pours it all over you as you're about to fall asleep, causing you to scream bloody murder. You're always quick to grab something and throw it at his head, but he easily blocks it.

He does get a little horny at the beach, but he really can't help it. He loves the way the swim suit rests on your body and highlight your curves. He also loves when you just come out of the water dripping before laying on the towel. He adores the way the water dries off your body, leaving random spots of wetness. He loves taking you to a little cave and sinking to his knees, hiking a leg of yours over his shoulder and just going to town, eating you out until you're shaking, on the verge of collapsing.

Has every kind of sunscreen known to man. Will always happily oblige to putting sunscreen on your back (and boobs if you let him) and has timers set up on his phone to tell you and him when the next application should be. You think it's annoying at first, but later in the evening when your back is burnt to a crisp and Rick's is perfectly fine, you quitely admit to yourself that he was right.

In reference to the previous mention, if you do get sunburnt, Rick is the best about putting on aloe vera on your burns and always making sure you're comfortable. "Here put this on." "Rick, I'm fine." "Like hell you are, you're as red as a lobster. Ha, lobster. You're my little lobster aren't you." "Richard..."

When the time comes and he has a couple of kids with you, he happily lets you sit out as he takes the kids into the ocean and plays with them. He is an expert sandcastle builder and will help his kids build the biggest and best sandcastle at the beach that day, and it gets a little competitive. Okay, it gets a lot competitive.

More Under the Cut

Takeshi Kovacs:

Unlike Rick, Takeshi HATES the beach. Think of Anakin, only more grumpy.

On the one occasion that you managed to get Takeshi Kovacs to the beach, he didn't bother packing any sort of swimsuit, claiming that it was unnecessary. "What are you gonna wear instead then?" "My clothes?"

When you and him finally make it to the beach, Takeshi sticks out like a sore thumb. You're in your normal swim attire, and Takeshi? His trench coat and boots and all black attire.

Takeshi spends the day picking off the smallest of grains of sands and grumbles any time some little kid runs by him and kicks up sand. You, think it's cute how annoyed the Envoy gets.

He is super impatient, wanting to leave only 10 minutes after getting there. You finally manage to convince him to stay with the promises of glasses of whiskey and tons upon tons of blow jobs. He immediately agrees.

Tak would never admit it, but he does love watching you at the beach. He loves the way the sun catches on your skin and the way you shrill when you get splashed by a cold wave of water. He loves the way you smile when watching people have fun.

He also loves watching you sun bathe. He swears you're doing it on purpose to tease him, but the way your skin glistens with a sheen layer of sweat as you rest under the rays of the sun has his cock straining painfully hard.

He also loves when you ask him to put sunscreen on your back. Of course, he makes snide remarks about it being too greasy but when you take off your top, he immediately shuts up.

He loves the way your body tastes under his tongue. As soon as you get back to the hotel, his tongue is immediately running over your body, lapping up the taste of you and the sea, and he finds it oddly erotic.

Stephen Holder:

Surprisingly, the only beach Holder has ever been to are the beaches on Washington's coast, so when you take him down south to Florida for the first time, he's ecstatic.

He is a big big big child when it comes to the beach. He will bury himself in the sand, he will try boogie boarding only to wipe out hard, and he will splash you until you're drenched.

He is also more pervy at the beach. Most of the time, his eyes are on you and your breasts. He's always making comments highlighting the fact that yes, your breasts are more exposed than normal.

Despite your advice and suggestion to put on sunscreen, Holder does not listen. "I ain't gonna burn, mama. The sun ain't got nothin' on me."

And of course, it does. Holder wakes up the next day in searing pain, and it isn't until you look on his back that you see he's blistering up. "Honey, I think we should take you to the hospital." "Why?" "Because your back is blistered, badly." Holder looks in the mirror and gulps thickly, insisting that it's not that bad. It is that bad.

So as a compromise, he lets you nurse him back to health. Meaning, every thirty minutes, you're applying aloe to his back and every four hours you're giving him ibuprofen. And of course, since he can't really move his arms all that well, you on the occasion, have to hold a cigarette for him.

Basically, the whole trip was a bust. After the first day of Stephen getting burnt like hell, he didn't want to go back to the beach at all. When you and him return to Seattle, Linden has to stifle her laughs at Holder's appearance.

Ed Baldwin:

This man tans like it's nobodies' business. You don't understand how or why, but everytime you go to the beach with him, he's always perfectly golden.

S1 Ed enjoys a good game of beach volleyball but is always a sore loser when Gordo beats his ass into the ground. Not that you mind though, you love watching the way his back muscles flex as sweat drips off of him. You love the way his hair clings to his face and the way his tongue sticks out of his mouth in concentration, and you love the way his chest heaves up and down after a game.

S2 Ed loves to just grab two chairs and a good book to read while you sun bathe. But don't get it wrong, he sometimes needs to cool off and will jump in the cold water, no matter the time of year.

He loves taking weekend trips with you. He will take you and him down to Florida in a jet and get you guys a little private getaway just to spend some one on one time with you.

He loves watching the sunset. He especially loves when you go on a walk with him and just watch the sun set over the crashing waves. He also loves digging his toes into the sand and feeling grounded to the Earth.

I can also see him really liking crab legs and lobster. Ed probably doesn't eat it in Houston, but when at the beach, he's eating all the seafood he can, claiming it's fresher, and he's probably right.

He also loves Sex on the Beach, the actual thing and the drink. Sometimes he'll ask you if you want one and you won't know which one he means. Most of the time, it's the actual thing.

In reference to the previous statement, he will take you to a more private area and make sweet love to you on a towel. He loves the way the waves crash against the shore in the background as you whimper his name while he drives you to the edge again and again before letting you cum.

When you and him have kids, he is less hands on than you are. You're the one who's constantly running into the water after your toddler and sweeping them up in the air, blowing raspberries on their skin. Or you're always helping them build a sandcastle. Meanwhile, Ed just sits back and enjoys the sight, often taking candid photos of you and his kids enjoying your time spent together.

Gordo Stevens:

S1 Gordo is a flirt, and it drives you insane (and makes you jealous) to the point where you absolutely hate going to the beach with him. You know that his eyes will sometimes wonder to other women who wear skimpier bathing suits that show off more than they should be showing off, and it makes you really insecure.

Despite his constant reassurance that you're beautiful the way you are and blah blah blah, you can't help but to slip on a cover up as you watch all the other women flaunt around your boyfriend. He doesn't notice your insecurities of course, he's too busy ogling at another woman's boobs.

Now S2 Gordo is different. It's his turn to be more insecure about his body compared to you. He will typically ask himself "why is she still with me" when looking in the mirror. He will try to cover up as much as possible, but even with a shirt on he still feels insecure.

You're quick to pick up on it. You know when he's feeling more down on himself, so you always try to pick a less crowded area of the beach where there aren't as many people there.

S1 Gordo tans, he will lay out all day in the sun and look like a rotisserie by the end of the day.

S2 Gordo tans as well, but he's hiding under the umbrella half of the time, claiming he doesn't want skin cancer in the future.

S1 Gordo is also a nuisance. He will tickle you, poke you, tease you and you'll scold him but he continues to do it. So often times, you have to get Ed to tell Gordo to knock it off.

S2, Gordo is STILL a nuisance, except it's only when he's comfortable and happy. If he's tickling you or poking you or just being touchy, you'll know he's in a great mood.

S1 Gordo will take you to an alcove and fuck the daylights out of you. It's hot, rough, steamy, sexy and it drives him and you crazy the way he can manipulate your body just right that'll have you seeing stars. You guys also do it in the ocean, far away from others, but he'll slip your bottoms to the side and push his down just enough to slip inside of you. At first it's more of a cock warming thing, but soon you'll be heaving yourself up and down his cock using his shoulders as he holds onto you and bites down on your shoulder.

S2 Gordo still loves sex on the beach but will never initiate it. So, you do. You'll be all flirty, asking him to apply some lotion to your back, to your chest, to your butt, really anything and will constantly tease him about how hot is it outside and how you want a cool down. And of course, Gordo knows what you're doing but is too self conscious to do anything about it.

So, you're the one to take him to that familiar alcove, and you're the one to sink to your knees and take his cock out of his pants, sucking him until he's shaking above you before coming down your throat. He then feels guilty when he comes, but you don't mind, you always pump him back to his full length and then you guys have round two on the sand, and it gets everywhere.

S1 Gordo plays a mean beach volleyball. In fact, he is probably one of the best beach volleyball players you've seen. On the occasion that all the NASA astronauts and their wives go to the beach on a little outing, he and Ed and some other astronauts are playings volleyball and Gordo is the first to be picked, simply because of how good he is.

You think it's insanely attractive the way his body moves in unison as he spikes a ball down, or the way he jumps up and serves a perfect ace. Of course, with him being a cocky son of a gun, Gordo will start with a shirt on and then take it off mid way to flex to you (and other ladies though you choose to ignore that) and you find it insanely hot the way the sweat and sand clings to his body.

Of course, when he wins, you're the first one he goes to and he immediately sweeps you up into his arms and spins you around, kissing all over you before eventually setting you down and pressing a deep kiss to your lips before pulling away. "How bout we go some place to celebrate?" "Our little alcove?" "You know it baby."

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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beomeli · 3 years

Text

A normal October night || C.SB

Warning: mention of drinking, underaged drinking, mild swearing

Genre: Angst, unrequited love, heartbreak

Non-idol!Soobin X gn!Reader

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As the cold night of october settled with beautiful autumn leaves and quiet streets, one specific house didn't bother keeping the nice aesthetic at peace.

People were dancing, drinking, making out, all while loud music played in the background. They didn’t care about the complaining, they only wanted to make as much possible of their youthful days. Even though the house was fairly big, every space was crowded with drunk people having the time of their lives. Making the rooms feel small and claustrophobic. As for you, you were standing alone towards a white wall.

Your best friends had convinced you to come, and since one of them kept on insisting, you couldn’t do much but to agree. That one was Choi Yeonjun, an excited extrovert that always acted out on whatever came to mind, as for the other.. his name was Choi Soobin, the more quiet and calm one. Even though they were different personality wise, they complemented each other very well. Always seeming to get along and joke around, Yeonjun pulling stupid antics and Soobin laughing alongside. they were very good best friends. And they were your best friends.

Your first encounter with Yeonjun almost felt unreal. You being a first year and him being one year above, saw you quietly sitting alone outside the school building. you were eating your lunch by yourself next to the school gymnasium. And as he walked past you towards the gym, he couldn’t help but walk up and greet you.

Ever since that day you've been great friends. Even though you had different classes that also were on different floors you managed to hang out with him quite often. And after a few weeks Yeonjun introduced you to his so called other best friend. That person was Soobin. A freshman just as you, who was in a different class, hence why you hadn’t talked nor seen him before. But still, you fell for him, hard. Not only was he intelligent, funny and kind, he was extremely beautiful. His whole demeanor and appearance was breathtaking. You couldn’t help but take notice at his every feature, slowly ascending into a rabbit hole with nothing to stop you. The more you talked to him the more your love grew. And the fact that he actually saw you as his best friend made your heart skip.

You had hoped for this party to be a great time for you and your friends to dance and have fun. But as soon as you stepped through the wooden door and into the sea off people, you understood that, that wouldn't be the case. Yeonjun made his way towards the kitchen talking to his friend from other schools. Soobin on the other hand, awkwardly made his way towards the living room, trying to keep a low profile. You knew Soobin wasn’t very fond of parties, hence the biggest reason he tried so hard convincing you to come.

“Come on Y/N, I don’t want to take care of Yeonjun alone! Plus, I really like your company..” his words stuck with you, he enjoyed your company? He wanted to spend time with you? You couldn’t help but repeat his phrase in your head. Fixating on every word he said, happy that he wanted to have you around him.

You followed behind closely, trying to not bump into all too many people as the rooms were tightly crowded with all the drunken people. The smell of alcohol being unavoidable. Soobin found an empty wall and leaned towards it, inspecting everyone. While you closely snuck your way past all the people and also leaned toward that white wall.

The music was even louder, the atmosphere humid, as all the drunk sweaty people were jumping up and down to the music. But you couldn’t help but feel an comfortable aura as Soobin stood close to you, smiling a bit to himself. Your heart skipped a beat.

"It's not even 8 pm and people are already wrecked." You started casually, as you looked at all the drunk people roaming around, dancing.

"Yeah, And in about 20 minutes, Yeonjun will become one of them" Soobin answered, looking over at you with a small smile. You let out a chuckle at his funny remark, looking up at him and seeing that beautiful smile of his. Your cheeks felt warm as a smile crept up on your lips.

"Oh well, good thing there's two of us cause we all know that Yeonjun is a two-man-job" you replied, which made Soobin let out a little laugh. The beautiful sound ringing so perfectly in your ears.

"Yeah.." he looked back at the people, keeping that smile. Your heart skipped a beat, and slowly, you felt the urge creeping up on you. You wanted to confess. You knew confessing in a party with music blasting and people being all crazy wasn’t the most romantic, but you couldn’t hold back these feelings anymore. this was the time. You wanted to tell him how you felt.

"Soobin I have something to tell you.." you felt nervous, as your voice evidently shook a bit. your heartbeat speed up, as small sweat drops formed on your forehead. This was more nervwrecking than you thought.

"What is it Y/N?” the way he said your name so softly and how he kept that smile on his beautiful lips. You loved it.

Before you could continue your sentence, a sudden distraction occurred when someone accidentally bumped right into Soobin, falling head first into his arms. Quickly, he grabbed the person by the arms, trying to help the person in question finding their balance. Before you knew it, they looked up. She was stunning, absolutely gorgeous. You almost blushed when you saw her beautiful features complimenting her in every way.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry!" She was evidently embarrassed, her voice not sounding slurred or anything, she was probably a bit more on the sober side. She looked apologetic as she kept apologizing for literally launching at Soobin, but Soobin was kind. Giving her that dimpled smile and telling her that everything was fine.

"No it's okay!" Soobin quickly replied, he took a good look at the girl in front of him, even he looked stunned at her beauty, you noticed a small blush forming on his cheeks. You were paralyzed.

"I was just trying to get to the kitchen and suddenly someone came out of nowhere and pushed me.." the girls voice was soft, and she seemed so sweet. Soobin couldn't help but stare at her fondly, inspecting every bits of her. He was truly mesmerized.

You heart took a turn, this was the last thing you wanted. You confession directly flew out the door. There’s no way you could confess now. Maybe this was for the better..? Never had Soobin ever looked at you that way. You felt defeated.

"Don't worry. We all know being sober in a room with drunk people are bound to cause trouble." Soobin said, making the girl laugh.

"Yeah haha, they love coming out of nowhere.." She continued, and to that you were just watching intently as the girl and Soobin made conversation. It seemed so casual, like they've known each other their whole life. And you could see a faint blush on Soobin’s cheeks.

"My name is Soobin, and yours?"

"Yujin, nice to meet you Soobin" they shook hands, looking at each other with adoration. While completely ignoring you.

You couldn't handle the sight and slowly slinked your way out of the situation. Sure, meeting a new person is fine, especially if they seem as nice as her. But why did they have to ignore you? You were standing right there, watching their moves intently. Couldn’t you at least get a ‘hi’ or an introduction from soobin? No, your presence was too invincible.

You could feel tears pricking your eyes but you tried your hardest keeping them in. You didn't want to cause a scene and especially in front of Soobin. You didn’t come to this party for your own entertainment, you came to support Soobin. If he was happy without your company, then you had to accept it.

Slowly you made your way to a new bare wall, a bit afar from Soobin and Yujin, you could still observe them talking. And so you did, occasionally looking down at your phone and texting a few people. You wanted to go to Yeonjun but he was dancing crazy on the dance floor which you had expected. so you just decided to keep leaning towards that white wall. Luckily, you had your phone, you could distract yourself easily by playing on it for a few hours. Still, the growing feeling of sadness didn’t ease of your mind. You were disappointed to say the least, this was suppose to be a night you confessed. But everything changed so quickly, in a heartbeat.

As time ticked, Soobin and Yujin were still talking. for the first time in a long time, you looked over at them. surprised to see Soobin holding a red cup. When did he get that drink? I didn't even know Soobin liked alcohol.. You shrugged it off, knowing that Soobin is a responsible person and you were just too tired to even think straight.

Quietly, you tapped on Soobin’s shoulder, he looked down at you with surprise.

"Oh hey Y/N. What is it?" His voice was a bit harsh, as if he didn't want to get interrupted talking to Yujin at this time. It made your heart sink, you just wanted to get out of there quickly.

"Hey Soobin soo,” you paused and looked up at him more clearly, he was anticipating your sentence, clearly wanting to go back to whatever him and Yujin talked about. Eager to keep hearing whatever she had to say.

“..I'm really tired and I think I wanna go home now so.."

"Oh.." he didn’t know what else to say, but it was enough for you to understand that you would leave this party alone. You felt you hear crumble, tears pricking your eyes. He had promised to walk you home that night, since he knew it was quite a walk and being a Saturday night it might be dangerous. But now you knew that walking home together were no longer an option. You nodded and made your way out the crashed house, ascending into the dark streets of Seoul.

As soon as you had turned a block, tears fell down you soft red cheeks, and a quiet sobbing followed by that. Thinking back, it was good that you never confessed, cause it was obviously one-sided all along. It was clear that he liked Yujin. You couldn't stop feeling such pain in your chest as you thought back to that scene of him and her talking, just letting you stand by all alone. How he never once, looked over his shoulder to see if you still were there, or even hesitating when he noticed your small disappointed face when he waved you off. He said he enjoyed your company, and he’s suppose to be your best friend. How could one girl make everything change so drastically?

Now you were walking home, alone. Crying, freezing and heartbroken.

You were angry at Soobin for letting this happen, but also angry at yourself. For thinking that you even had a chance with him in the first place.

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Finally you came home without incident. You locked the door and slipped of you shoes before sluggishly making your way towards your bedroom. The crying had stopped now, but the depressive aura was still there. And so you fell onto your bed letting out a loud sigh.

After playing with your phone for almost 3 hours at the party, it was dead, so you plugged it in and made your way towards the shower. It was nice letting some steam off as you took your time in the warm shower.

You hair now wrapped around in a towel, along with you dressed in a pajamas. You made your way back towards the bed, reaching for your phone on the nightstand and turning it on. Your screen flashes the notification box, showing 5 missed calls and 11 messages from Soobin. You were chocked, why had he so desperately tried contacting you? Quickly you dialed him back.

He picked up immediately.

"Y/N! Aahh, Finally you picked up!” He sounded hysterical, but you heard how his voice tried calmed down, trying to compose his breathing again.

“Where are you? I thought we were going home together." Had he forgotten the whole ‘I want to go home?’ Conversation? This was ridiculous.

"Soobin. I told you that I wanted to go home and you just told me goodbye before continuing talking to that girl.. so I went home alone." You couldn't believe that he actually forgot that conversation because he was so invested in Yujin, which only made you more upset.

Soobin was quiet, probably trying to find his words. After a while, you could hear a tired sigh.

"I- I'm so sorry Y/N. God, I'm such an idiot. Please let me make it up to you.."

You could hear regret in his voice, he felt guilty for sure. but still that sourness didn't disappear,

"I can come over and we can watch a movie or have a sleepover.." you heard the desperate attempt to make his situation better but only silence fell from your lips.

"I don't think that's a good idea right now. I'm really tired so I'm going to bed but, but I guess I'll see you around." You were harsh in your tone, just like he was an hour ago. And to that you hung up before he could even answer you. For some it may seem harsh, but to you it felt like a good start to try forgetting him.

Cause you were now a 100% that being with him would never happen.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Early morning came, and you felt the sun shining on your skin. It was a nice October morning, one that you’d have the urge to sit by a cafe and watch the beautiful autumn leaves flow by as the wind drifted them away. The apartment was quiet. And you comfortable woke up to the sound of the city waking up. As you made your way toward the kitchen, wanting to get started on some breakfast. The doorbell rang. Quickly you made your way to the wooden door. Turning the handle without checking who it was first.

"Soobin?" Was the first word that came out, you were chocked to meet eyes with your tall friend. He looked tired, had soft eyebags and messier hair, but he stilled looked stunning. You imagined if that would be how Soobin looked like waking up next to him. Feeling his soft skin and touches.

"Hey can I come in?" Soobin looked at you with sweet eyes while holding up a bag of snacks. You knew this was his way of redemption, trying to make it up to you.

Before you could answer Soobin spoke up again,

"Please, I really want to make it up to you.." his voice still calm, but showing so much emotions. And his eyes pleading with guilt. You couldn't resist him. You were close caving in, inviting him inside and letting him win over you once more. But you had to refuse,

"I'm sorry Soobin, but I'm busy today.." you didn't look up at him to see his reaction, but you noticed how he let out a loud sigh.

"Okay then.. well you can just call me whenever you're free." And with that he set the bag of snacks down and made his way from your door. You promptly closed the door behind him and sighed to yourself. You didn't want to reject him like that, but you also couldn't handle being so hopelessly in love with him. This the best way to dismiss your feelings, in better words. Stop loving him.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Hey Y/N! I’m waiting for you by the ice-cream store already!" Yeonjun’s positive tone made you feel better.

"Okay sure, I’ll be there in 10 minutes." A faint chuckle let out from your lips.

"Okay! Bye!" And to that you hung up the phone.

It has gone by a few weeks since that party. And your terms with Soobin wasn't the best at the moment. He had stopped trying to make it up to you, which seemed like a good thing, but he started seeing Yujin more and more. Apperantly they exchanged phone numbers and they've been going out together. Jealousy overcame you, you didn't want this to happen. But still, you can’t control how Soobin felt towards other, this was your problem to bare. Your selfishness was the reasoning for this. So you had to make up for it by yourself.

You quickly slipped on your shoes before heading out the door.

After a 5 minute walk you saw the mentioned Ice-cream shop that you and Yeonjun wanted to try out. Yeonjun stood outside the shop, tall and handsome, and along side him was... Soobin.

You cursed Yeonjun for not telling you that Soobin also were invited, you were in the middle of operation-forget-Soobin and it was impossible if Soobin was in your presence. You knew that as soon as you met his beautiful eyes you were bound cave in once more. But there was no turning back now, Yeonjun spotted you and loudly shouted for you to hurry. And so you did. Soobin looked at you, his eyes inspecting your every move. you could feel your heartbeat quicken. This was awkward, you haven't answered any of Soobin’s texts or phone calls and now you were on your merry way to meet him face to face.

"I'm so excited, I've been craving Ice-cream the whole day!" Yeonjun put his arm around you before happily entering the shop. It was a lot of people there, hence it being a new place. You stood at the queue and waited. Soobin was behind you. you could feel his gaze watch over you as you tried your best to ignore him. His presence was unbearable, and your heartbeat kept quickening.

Slowly he leaned closer to you and bent down towards your ear.

"You look nice today.." his tone was sweet and soft. Your breath hitched at his action. Dammit Soobin. You tried your best to continue ignoring him, instead looking over at Yeonjun and tried starting a conversation.

“Should I get Oreos or caramel as a topping?”

......

After 10 minutes you all had finally gotten the ice-cream you craved and stood outside the shop in the nice October sunlight. Digging in immediately. Yeonjun enjoyed his ice-cream loudly, complimenting it every second he got. Soobin on the other hand was gentle and licked small portions, not making any sound at all. It impressed you that such different people can become such good friends.

There was an awkward silence between the three of you, which only you and Soobin noticed. Yeonjun was too invested in his ice-cream to even notice the tension you and Soobin had built up.

It was uncomfortable, feeling Soobin’s eyes pierce onto you, trying to get your attention. At this point you knew he was desperate for winning you back. He missed his best friend. But you didn't oblige, you kept the determination to ignore him and stared at the ice-cream, trying to wave off his intensive stare.

Yeonjun finished of his ice-cream with a loud sigh and looked at you with a big smile.

"Best mint chocolate ice-cream I've ever had!" He chuckled as he made his way towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" You asked quickly, he pointed towards the inside and mumbled about tissues. Before you could intervene and follow him inside he closed the door behind him.

Making you and Soobin stand outside there all alone.

Curse you Yeonjun for being so ignorant, there's no way you can make it out of this situation without awkward tension.

You let out a loud sigh and looked down at the ground. Continuing to lick your ice-cream. Soobin was quiet, but he kept his stare. You just wanted this situation to end as quick as possible.

"Y/N, I know you're angry at me.. I know I screwed up.." he started, you could hear his voice cracking a bit. But you didn't dare to look up at his expression. You kept listening,

"But please, listen to me when I tell you that I am genuinely sorry. I miss you, you know.." his tone was desperate, he truly meant every word. You knew him long enough to know how he sounds like when he's at the point of breaking.. At this point, you couldn’t take it anymore. The feeling of neglecting everything you have inside your heart was breaking you slowly, and you just couldn't take it.

You were quiet for a bit, but you let out a small sigh before starting,

"Soobin, I just feel so betrayed and disappointed.. you left me.. because of this girl, like this new girl was more important than your.. best friend.." you sounded so selfish and pathetic as your strong voice ended with a quiet whimpering as tears prickled your eyes. Soobin looked confused, his lips were trembling, so were his hands. But slowly he reached out to your hand. His soft touch feeling your cold hand. He held onto it and started caressing it with his thumb.

"I am sorry.." his voice was low, and he cursed at himself for not giving you a better respond, but he didn't know what to say. For being such a cool headed guy, he never knew what to do in situations like these. When someone was deeply hurt and the reasoning for it, was him.

As he looked down at you, something in his mind wasn't adding up. He still couldn't put a finger down why you were so disappointed as you were. Sure, the situation at hand was not something to just look past, but your demeanor and reaction was a bit different for a thing like this.

"Y/N, I am truly sorry.. I'm sorry for leaving you, ignoring you and forgetting you.." you just nodded as a response, keeping your head low.

“I will never do that again, ever. You are so important to me, and I don’t want to hurt you again.” He once again sounded desperate, but you knew his words were genuine. He really did treasure your friendship. Before you could respond, he started,

"But I need to know.., is there something else that I've done towards you?" His question took you by surprise. You knew Soobin wouldn't be satisfied with nothing but the truth. So you opted the only option left, It was time to say it. Your voice was trembling, and you slowly looked up at his eyes, tears prickling at your own. Slowly you opened your mouth, wording.

"Soobin.. I'm in love with you.."

you voice was shaking, and your heart at this point was about to burst. His eyes widened at the statement, and he let go of your hand.

It fell quiet between the two of you, only the city ambiance filling the quietness between you.

Say something dammit.. this was nervwrecking. He was just staring at you with wide eyes, not expecting to hear such deep words coming from you. You couldn’t help but fiddle with your fingers, waiting and waiting for his answer.

Just say something! Anything..!

He was quiet, shocked. You couldn’t take it anymore. You spoke up, tears now falling.

"I know you don't like me back, because of the way you.. look at her, I just know.." Soobin was quiet, his mind was in chaos trying to register and analyze what you just said.

"I'm.. sorry.." his voice was trembling, just like yours. He once again cursed himself for not giving you a better answer, here you are spilling you heart out, being vulnerable. And all he could do was say sorry. idiot.

you gave him a small nodded, as a appreciative smile crept up on your lips. You were grateful that the answer was clear as day, and that you could finally move on. You backed away a bit.

"It was nice while it lasted, you were a good friend Soobin.. and I hope you treat her well.." you couldn’t be there anymore, there was no reason to keep seeing that face he made. He looked shocked, almost in disbelief. It was too much to bare.

you turned around and threw what was left of the ice-cream into the trash bin. Before quickly walking away, leaving Soobin alone. He knew following you was pointless, it would just make the situation at hand worse. But he couldn’t help but to feel guilt and regret creeping up on him. Why couldn’t he say what he really thought..?

Yeonjun finally came out after a couple of minutes.

"Sorry for making you wait so long, I went to the restroom as well soo.." he trailed off when he noticed that you had left.

"Where did Y/N go.? Did they also go to the restroom?” Yeonjun looked over at Soobin, who was now looking down onto the pavement.

"They didn't feel well and went home.." Soobin said, a very blunt and obvious lie. Yeonjun sensed it, but he didn’t want to further question, this wasn’t his business. A loud sigh escaped his lips.

"That’s too bad, I really like hanging out with them.." Yeonjun was visibly upset. Scratching his head roughly.

"Yeah, Me too..”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A/N:

God I absolutely love pure angst, and I’ve always had a thing for unrequited love. Idk why

I wanted to end this in a sad note once again, hope you don’t mind :,)

I’ll probably do a more fluff next time and I was leaning against Yeonjun or Hueningkai. But I’m not sure.

If you have any ideas or suggestions, go ahead and send them in my ask box! I’d love to hear your ideas!

Either way, I want to say thank you for all the amazing response I got from Rainy Days. I was so nervous when posting but you all are so sweet!

Ty for reading, Byeee❤️

This work belongs to @Beomeli on tumblr. Please do not trace or copy my work ©

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kyunisixx · 3 years

Text

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek.

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past.

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors. All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage.

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency.

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him.

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze.

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice.

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept.

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint.

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss.

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers.

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break.

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

⭐ writings list ⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Note

Hello m'lady! I'm so excited to see you're accepting prompts! If this strikes your fancy, may I request : “What happened to us?” and “I can be your reason why.” for our Frankie??? ANGST HOTEL HERE WE COME...MAYBE?!? Thank you for your time 💚🌿💚

My darling lady, I'm so happy to get your request! 💚

One huge dose of angsty Frankie coming right up. Oh, this one has a happy ending too. I hope you enjoy this, I'm sending a lot of hugs your way.

I can be your reason why

Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Word count 1,4k

Warnings: Hospitals, accident, mention of drunk driver, mention of death (Frankie was in the army), angst, sad sad sad, pining, hopeful ending

The room is so white, right down to the bedsheet that covers your lower half.

The white machines hooked on your body, keeping a check on vitals and making sure you are fine, look like something out of a sci-fi film for Frankie. He hates that he has to see them in multitudes as well as the monitors above your bed drawing lines as you breathe and your heart pumps blood and medicine all over your body, healing you.

To say he’d been surprised to get the call from the hospital at 4 in the morning was an understatement when he’d been shocked to the core. Ever since you had had a big fight with him all those months ago, something that was still unsettled and gnawed at his guts, Frankie had been certain he’d been crossed off the list for good and he had only himself to blame.

He had tried to scrub the yelling, the insults, and the low blows out of his mind, but every time he’d glance at his phone and see his wallpaper of you and his daughter smiling together and it would all come back.

“Fuck you, Frankie! I can’t believe you out of all the people would say this! You were supposed to be my friend!”

“Cariño, please…”

“NO! No Frankie, just no. You’ve gone too far this time.”

“Please, please let me explain. Please.”

“Absolutely not. I heard you loud and clear the first time Francisco and, God, what happened to us? Where did we go wrong? I thought you’d… I thought you understood… I thought...”

He can still hear the sniffles, feel the pain in his stomach as he watches you slam the door on his face on the film reel in his mind, and the desperation that creeps up his spine as his texts and calls go unanswered for weeks. He remembers asking the guys to call you and the mountain of ice spreading through his veins when Will told him that you had blocked his number and didn’t want him to contact you.

Frankie contemplated going to your house after that, but what good would it do? He was broken, beaten and lying breathless on the ground. Nothing would help him rise from there. Definitely not you. He is still all those things and more because he doesn’t have you beside him to weather out the stormy seas.

Getting cut off from you hurt him on levels he had trouble comprehending. Frankie had gotten used to you being around, comfortable in the knowledge that you had always been there as his friend and would always be there and that was his grave mistake.

All those moments in the playground swing back in teenage years when he escaped the yelling and shouting in his house, turbulent times in college where he began experimenting with his sexuality and life all the way to his high-risk career in the Army, the coke rap and losing his lady to another man. You had always been there for him.

You had been his rock and his most ardent supporter, Santi hot on your heels but never reaching the level of trust and intimacy you shared with Frankie. All the times he fucked up, needed a shoulder to cry on or a couch to sleep off his desire to go out and find one of his bad habits for a visit, you opened your door to help him. And what had he done for you? Fuck all but trouble and heartbreak and pain in measures he can never pay back.

He hangs his head, his ballcap twisted between his fists as he wrings the fabric to give himself something to do. He would do anything, everything to take back the last 3 and half months and just hold you tight and tell you that he believes in you and will stand by you in all the ways you want him.

But you are sleeping, eyes closed, hooked up to all the machines that monitor your body and Frankie cannot do that. He’s not sure if he’s even allowed to touch you, because just being in the same room as you without your permission feels like an invasion of sorts.

“Cariño, if you can hear me, I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for all the words, all the insults thrown in your face and all the pain I’ve caused you. I wish… I wish I could take it all back.”

He whispers, placing his hand next to you where it lays on top of the bedsheet. The difference between them shocks him still, your elegant fingers next to his calloused and battered ones. The way your skin is unmarred by scars where he has all these silver lines criss-crossing his knuckles.

Taking care to avoid the IV line, he gently moves your hand into his and sighs at the first connection in months. The softness of your hand against his roughness is still something out of a dream; how something so beautiful and lovely and gorgeous could ever want something so dark, drenched in the blood of people he’s killed and lost count of is a mystery Frankie never hopes to have to solve.

Like a thief in the night, he steals yet one more moment with you as he squeezes your hand gently. And like a greedy one too, he rises from the creaky plastic hospital chair and kisses your forehead, pushing his luck a little further. Frankie begins talking, his deep timbre bouncing off the walls as he tells you stories you’ve heard a thousand times already but which bring him comfort.

His thumb strokes your knuckles softly, a soothing gesture more for him than you, while he continues telling you things. Time ticks by and Frankie’s voice grows tired and gravely, but he refuses to stop. He talks about Will, Benny and Santi, the ways all of them get together weekly and he talks about Olivia, his pride and joy, and how she grows and how she misses you. How he misses his friend.

The tone tinges with sadness as Frankie starts to talk about your accident and what has happened in the past couple of days. “They caught him, the drunk bastard that ran the red light. He’s in custody and the traffic cameras have him on tape. You are not going to have to see him, he’ll be locked up for a good time. You just need to get better, cariño, so you can kick my ass in softball again and tell me Oreos taste superior when dunked in cold milk.”

He takes a deep breath, blinking away to keep his raw emotions hidden. Had you not changed your medical info and your contact in case of emergency details, he wouldn’t even be here with you, known about your accident, and the mere idea breaks him, wounds him deep. He hides his tears in his sleeve as he tries to gather himself up again. Frankie needs to be strong now, you have a long recovery ahead of you and he will do his best to help you.

“Te amo, mi corazón y mi alma. Por favor, vuelve a mi. I want to kiss you and tell you I belong to you, that I love you more than as a friend. You hold my heart already and I will gladly give it to you if you come back to me. Smile for me again. I can be your reason why, I’ll do anything to see your soft lips grinning at me, with me...” It becomes too much and Frankie folds in half, draping his upper body on the bed as he cries uncontrollably.

He doesn’t know how long he weeps, the seconds and minutes all blurring together as the sleeves of his shirt go from damp to soaked but he doesn’t care. Frankie loves you and he almost lost you for good and he cannot hold it in anymore. He loves you and he needs to tell you.

He’s so deep inside his mind that he doesn’t recognize the weight on top of his head first. But when fingers card through his locks repeatedly and the motion registers, he’s shocked into reality. Frankie lifts his head carefully, eyes blurry and almost afraid of what he will see.

Your eyes are droopy but the small upturn of the corners of your lips as you regard him softly forces another sob from his chest and it takes all of his willpower not to kiss you right then and there. Your hand doesn’t stop moving as you look at each other in silence, fingers in his curls and Frankie is finally back home, breathing freely.

His lips move, though no sound comes out, telling you te amo over and over again.

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mind-p0llution @mariesackler

#m takes requests #my writing #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #catfish morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #cw: hospital #cw: drunk driver #cw: accident #angst #sadness #cw: mention of death #tw: hospital #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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alice-angel12x · 4 years

Text

Leech Twins X Gem! Reader

It was another slow and cold winter in the Coral sea, as the icebergs slowly blocked out the sunlight from the surface. Yet lately many Icebergs have been falling apart lately, they would suddenly collapse and reveal the sun's rays from above. Azul and the twins would wonder why that's been happening lately. Out of the many years, they lived there this was not a normal occurrence during the winter season.

"I don't mind it, finally we get some sunlight down here in the winter," (child)Floyd sighed.

"It fine I guess, but I don't like the banging noises it makes when they start falling apart. Plus it makes it dangerous to swim near the surface when that happens,"(child) Azul groaned.

Suddenly the iceberg above started to screech and whine as two large icebergs scrapped against each other. The three covered their ears as the sound became unbearable when suddenly that was a loud bang above the surface. Large chunks of ice fell into the water as it revealed an opening to the surface, letting in the sunlight from above.

"Ahh, warm sunlight,"(Child) Floyd smiled.

"What is that?" (Child)Jade asked as he pointed to a sinking figure.

"Probably just some unfortunate human, but I don't think humans are supposed to sink that fast. Jade, Floyd catch them," (Child)Azul said simply.

Jade and Floyd shrugged and same to catch the figure, which was surprisingly heavier than they expected. The twins managed to softly land the figure on the soft sand, and when they stepped to examine the figure they gasped at the sight. The figure had a lovely face, but what was off was the large cracks that ran down her face, and her hair didn't look like anything they've seen. It gave off a beautiful shimmer of Aquamarine.

"Nee, Jade this person is so shiny,"(Child) Floyd smiled as he hugged the figure, " But not so squishy, they're solid as a rock,"

"Careful, you might shatter them,"(child) Jade said with a smile.

"Jade, Floyd what is it?" (Child)Azul asked as he swam as quickly as he could.

He looked over the figure and gasped at the large cracks on her face. Thankfully Azul was able to fix it with coral sap, making the figure look good as new. Suddenly it began to stir as its eyes slowly fluttered open. Revealing beautiful ocean blue eyes she stared blankly at the three faces.

"W-who are you?" The girl asked nervesly, " Where am I?"

The poor girl had lost her memory, and couldn't recall who or what she is or even where she even came from. So Azul simply gave the girl a name, Y/n, but Floyd would nickname Y/n as Aqua or Aquamarine at times.

Y/n was a freak of nature to the twins, she wasn't soft and completely made out of precious stones, from her hair down to her feet. She didn't require food to keep her going, or even air for that matter. She just required sunlight or light from glowing jellyfish.

"Nee, Aqua-chan try this, it's Takoyaki. It's delicious,"(Child) Floyd smiled as he shoved food in Y/n's face.

"O-oh, no thank you, Floyd," Y/n smiled as she feeds it back to Floyd. He happily chomped down with a smile.

"You never eat, are you sure are okay?" (Child) Jade asked.

"As long as I have light, I should be fine," Y/n smiled as she patted Jade's head.

Floyd and Jade smiled as they hugged her arms. Y/n was nothing Like Floyd or Jade had seen before, so they like to drag her around everywhere they went. As they glided through the water Y/n quickly followed behind as she ran across the sandy ocean floor.

"I don't see why I'm needed to go to school with you," Y/n said as the twins pulled on her arms.

"Cause school is so boring, We want you to be by outside," Floyd said as he pulled at Y/n.

"Plus it will be interesting to see how our classmates react," Jade laughed.

The powder that covered Y/n's arms, legs, and face soon washed off revealing her gem surface underneath, but as time went on Floyde and Jade grew. Once small children that were half of Y/n size grew to be taller or longer than her. The twins and Azul grew to be handsome young men, but Y/n seemed to be forever frozen in time and remained the same.

-----------

As Time went on as the twins and Azul started to prepare for the expected arrival of the black carriage. Y/n's mind began to wonder, as she began to wander near the town edge of the Coral Sea, but the Twins don't let her wander too far from them.

"Nene, Aqua-chan what are you doing all the way out here?" Floyd asked as he hugged her from behind.

"Yes, home is the other way. You wander off again," Jade smiled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but shouldn't you two be making your way back to shore soon?" Y/n asked the twin.

"Huh? You're not going to see us off?" Jade asked with a pained expression.

"You want me to come to see you off?" Y/n asked.

"Of course, you have to be there," Floyd said as he nuzzled Y/n's neck.

Jade picked Y/n up bridle style as they swam to a nearby shore, where Azul was waiting for them. Y/n staring up at the blue sky with wide eyes, this was the first time she saw the sky and sun in 9 years. She slowly wiggled out of Jade's grasps and took her first steps on land in what felt like forever. The microscopic organisms inside her gem body started to make more energy than it has before, she had never felt more awake in so long.

"Nee, Aqua-chan slow down," Floyd whined as Y/n turned to see Floyd and jade slowly crawling up the beach.

As they tried to stand on their new legs, Y/n chuckled and quickly tried to help the two stand. Yet the three once merpeople simply clung to the gem girl for support. So for the first few days, was full of Y/n helping them walk on their own, and watching them fall over many times, but they soon got the hang of things.

-----------

The time arrived when the carriage arrived, and Y/n though this was where they would part ways. Nope, Jade and Floyd managed to drag her into the carriage with them and bring her to the school, claiming she was the twins Familiar. Surprisingly the headmaster was okay with this, seeing that there was a couple of other students who had similar "Familiars". As the twins and Azul sat with the other students Y/n looked around the room to see other people like her. Near the Scarabia dorm students stood a girl with diamond hair, by a red-headed Heartslabyul student stood a girl with ruby hair, a Pomefiore man had a girl with Ametrine hair standing next to him, a girl with obsidian hair was holding a tablet that the Ignihyde dorm leader spoke through. Savanaclaw had a girl with long hair made of bort. Heck, the Headmaster seemed to have an assistant with Rutile hair.

Y/n simply stared in awe at the many varieties of gem people in the room. When the ceremony finished everyone funneled out of the room, as Y/n walked she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see it was the diamond girl from the other dorm. The two chatted away when they had to part ways into the dorm. The Octavinelle Dorm reminded Y/n a lot of the Coral Sea, and the sense of sleepiness came over her at the sudden lack of bright sunlight.

"Nee, Aqua-chan who was that other girl you were talking to?" Floyd asked as he hugged Y/n from behind.

"That was Dia, and she told me that rutile plans to put us to work and we will be helping around the school," Y/n explained.

"So you won't be staying by our side then?" Jade frowned slightly.

"Awww, that sucks, I was hoping to have Aqua-chan by our side the entire time," Floyd whined as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

_______

So while Azul and the twins studied in the classrooms, Rutile leads the gems outside to help around the school. From wiping down the windows to mowing the grass in the fields. One day during P.E while the 2nd and 1st-year students ran laps the Gem girls were on the side slicing grass with some obsidian blad and while Vargus had to step out of a few minutes. As the students rested, Y/n noticed something odd in the sky.

"Riddle, what is that?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know, Ruby," Riddle said as the rest of the students stopped to look as well.

As everyone watched in awe as the sounds of instruments could be heard. The black cover vanished revealing something odd.

"It's so pretty," Obsidian awed.

"I don't know, something is off about it," Idia whispered.

"What even is that?" Vil wondered.

Y/n stared up in wonder when memories flashed in her mind as fear started t wash over her. The figures in the sky drew their bows and readied their spears and tossed them down on the gem humans below. A spear sliced through Ruby's neck like butter, time slowed as everyone watched Ruby's head and body fall to the ground. Everyone screamed in panic as more arrows and spears rained from the sky.

"We don't have our pens!" Leona growled.

"Everyone back to the school !" Jamil shouted as everyone tried to run.

But when they tried to run spears and arrows cut them off. Y/n turned back to see Riddle trying to carry Ruby's body with him.

"Riddle!" Trey gasped as he hurried Riddle and let ruby's pieces behind.

Y/n looked down at her blade and back up at the attackers in the sky, suddenly her body acted on its own as she ran towards the cloud.

"Y/N!" Jade and Foyd gasped.

"What is she doing?!" Azul gasped.

As Arrows and spears rain down she deflected them with a swing of her sword and tossed some of them back at the enemy. suddenly weird golden lines that ended with hooks and gem spheres. They quickly extended down and wrapped around a fellow gem Ametrine, and quickly dragged her closer to the cloud.

"Ametrine!" Vil cried out.

Ametrine dug her heels into the ground to stop herself, the moment she struggled and pulled. The pins in the gem spheres were pulled out and exploded. When the smoke cleared, Ametrine was blown to pieces. Everyone watched in horror as a few figures from the cloud climbed down to collect the shattered gem pieces. Dia quickly acted and sliced through the enemy. Bort and Y/n jumped up to the vessel and began to slice away at the enemy, who poof away once defeated.

Y/n ran to the tall enter figure and sliced it in half with ease, but more grenade hooks shot out from the bottom half of the figure. Before they could wrap around Bort, Y/n quickly pushed them out of the way and grabbed at the rope. She hopped down from the vessel and pulled at the rope above the pinned hooks. Dia quickly helped Y/n pull as they ripped the center figure off the vessel, causing the who thing to poof out of the air, but not before a pin was pulled causing the grenades to explode.

"Aqua-Chan!" Floyd called out.

Vargus and Rutile ran out to see the shaken students and shattered and Damaged gem figures.

-----------

"Y/n, Y/n please open your eyes," Said a familiar voice.

"Aqua-chan," Said another voice.

Y/n's eye's opened slowly as her vision slowly came to her. Staring down at her were a pair of 2 mismatched eyes staring down at her.

"Floyd...Jade?" Y/n groaned as she slowly sat up.

But was tackled back down in a bear hug from the twins.

"Your back!" Floyd smiled.

"What happened to.. outside?" Y/n asked.

"Rutile came and put you and everyone back together, while Vargus took the human students back to the school. You were asleep for a week. You managed to defeat the strange enemy from the sky," Jade explained.

"What were you thinking, running towards danger like that. That was stupid Aqua-chan," Floyd pouted.

"As long as I can be put back together, I cannot die-,"

"They wanted to take you away from us," Jade said as he pulled Y/n close to him.

"They were going to steal you from us. Your our treasure, no one else's," Floyd said as the twins sandwiched the girl in a hug.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #houseki no kuni #floyd leech #jade leech #floyd x reader #jade x reader

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andre8398 · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings (Part 7 Prelude final)

A brilliant light envelops the dragon as he transforms back to a young man. Yoritomo takes no time in striking, as he slashes at Ryugo. Without any semblance of fear Ryugo blocks the attack with his arm, then throws his arm creating a gust of wind dispersing the light and sending the Yoritomo flying, Balor catches him.The watch speaks once more as the hero takes a fighting stance.

“Data Transfer Comminsing. File Unification Cominsing.”

“You are everything I expected you to be Ryugo, not only being able to match me and knock out Teda. You've also sent Yoritomo flying more than once. HAHAHA! You remind me of someone else that I know.” Balor declares with a smirk as he examines the young man before him.

He was now clad in a skintight suit and armor like a hero found in comic book or Senti shows. The suit itself looked like a wrestler would use. The armor looked like the protective padding of an American football player combined with the armor of a futuristic police officer. His hands are also armored, taking a similar appearance to the gloves of Mixed Martial Artist. Upon his was a simple golden crown that has been worn and damaged and to devices that look similar to horns. Looking at the young man's face though his eyes were covered by a visor he could still see he looked extremely similar to Vincent causing Balor to scoff.

“However, I will not accept defeat so easily nor shall he.” Balor then throws Yoritomo like a ball, sending lounging as his blade aims once more for Ryugo.

“Very Well!” Ryugo takes a pen from what looks like his belt. Holding it like a sword, swings it. Everyone was in shock as the two slashes collided. Feedback of energy envelops the two then rapidly disperses as the golden sword and a mysterious rainbow sword bounce off each other. In quick succession the swords collide again and again. Ryugo draws back as a fist almost knocks him away like before.

Suddenly the rainbow sword turns red, the displeases as red chains bursts from the ground ensnaring Balor, the chains feel like they're on fire to Balor. Yoritomo uses the chance to strike as Ryugo has no weapon.

CLINK!! CLINK!! CLINK!! The strikes are deflected as Ryugo uses his armor as a weapon. CRABUMP!! Ryugo lands a punch in Yoritomo’s abdomen, not before Yoritomo stabbed his sword into Ryugo once more. Ryugo only winces as the sword are ripped out.

Planting his feet to the ground as he takes the full force of Balor’s fist as now he broke free of his chains. The three continued to battle so fast that it was hard to see by humans.

“Vincent, can you see them?” Ryota says to Vincent as they try to get back up

“Yea barely, It looks like that superhero guy is standing his ground though I'm not sure for how long. I think he is putting most of his energy into keeping the other two away from us.”

Vincent says tensely as he raises his dimmed sword in one hand and his phone that is still streaming in the other. Ryota is worried as this is the first time seeing the person who saved him and now calls his best friend genuinely conflicted about what to do he wants to help, however his body is frozen.

“Hey, Vincent, are you alright? You're shaking.” Ryota states catching Vincent off guard. Shocked, Vincent scoffs then smiles as he wipes the tear from his eye. He then calms himself.

“Thanks, Now let's find an opening, then when i tell you aim your pudding at the stands. Alright let's give these people a show.” Vincent calls out as wave after wave or people comment and react as the number on the bottom of the screen grows. The pair run alongside the action, Vincent keeping the camera on the action, while Ryota makes marshmallow barriers to keep them safe. "Now!" Vincent yells, alerting Ryugo to their plans.

"ULTIMATE SUPPER!" Ryota activates his Sacred Artifact once more.

"Gahh!" A sea of frosting and marshmallows in cases Balor as he tries to land another punch, leaving him immoble. Yoritomo growls in anger.

"YOU HAVE GOTTEN IN THE WAY FOR THE LAST TIME!" Yoritomo lounges his sword at Ryota with a lightning fast speed.

"AURORA'S PROTECTION!"

A Veil-like wall appears, stopping the sword a rice grain away from Ryota's neck. Ryota falls backwards, relieved to still be alive.

"YOU!" Yoritomo yells as he draws his sword from the wall. His face was now red and the wisps on top of his head became blazing infernos. Now focusing his sights on Ryugo once more. "I WILL BE MADE FUN OF NO LONGER!! I ENGRAVE MY NAME YORITOMO ONTO THEE-"

A sudden feeling of dread fills the three as Yoritomo begins to unleash the power of his artifact.

“Glasses! On my mark grab those two and teleport!” Ryugo yells at the bush behind Vincent and Ryota, then STOMPS his foot with tremendous force causing the ground to break and light to illuminate the field.

“NOW HEAR ME! THOSE WHO ARE BOUNDLESS AND HOLD NO TIES, SHARE WITH ME YOUR STRENGTH AND LET YOUR LIGHT SHINE! FEEL THE WRATH OF THE LIGHT OF NEW BEGINNINGS! RAINBOW TEMPEST!”

The boulders are ripped from the ground as Yoritomo and Ryugo lounge at each other ready to strike the final blow.

“GLASSES NOW!” As Ryugo yells out two hands come out from the bush, the three disappear.

BOOOOM!!! The golden light of Yoritomo's light and the rainbow light of Ryugo’s fist collide creating a spiraling pillar of light that reaches the heavens.

Meanwhile at the Yoyogi Infirmary

“What happened? Where are we?” Vincent wakes up in a bed, looking around frantically looking for Ryugo.

“Oh. You're awake. Good since you're awake then let me escort you to the dorms.” Dr. Mineaki says as he checks Vincent for any trauma then helps him up and starts to lead him to the Yoyogi dorms.

“Dr. Mineaki? What happened? What happened to Ryota and -”

“Your friends are in the dorms resting since they were fine after you appeared right in front of me and Officer Hogen, then proceeded to rush and knock yourself out against a brick wall. As for your…….” Mineaki pauses as he tries to find how to explain.

“Well, currently until we know more about this transient, he is being assigned a legal guardian and will be attending school here. That’s all I'm allowed to tell you.” Mineaki stops at a door that Vincent quickly recognizes as Gunzo’s Dorm door.

“Well, have a good night and try not to get into too much trouble…. But I guess it runs in the family.” As Dr. Mineaki leaves, confusing Vincent with that statement.

3 Weeks Later

Avarga calls everyone in the Wrestling Club to their respective Club room. “Alright, listen up, we have a new member. Please come in and introduce yourself.” The door to the club room opens and Ryugo enters.

“H-hello my name is Ryugo. I’m a 3rd year student. I’ll be your club's new manager from here on out. N-nice to meet all of you.”

“Ryugo was supposed to be a new wrestler but due to his injuries he cannot participate. Till he heals he will be acting head manager. So don't cause him too much trouble. Now let's get to the practice room and start your drills.”

The room quickly empties as the wrestlers all head to the practice room, greeting and welcoming Ryugo as they exit. Once the room is empty.

“There's no way I'm gonna get out of this, is there?”

Avarga responded with a joyful nope. Ryugo can only sigh as he and Avarga head to the practice room as well.

–Odd Summoning and New Beginnings End

Author's Notes: Sorry for taking so long, here is the last installment of Odd summoning story, I'll probably make more stories with Ryugo and the Yoyogi crew later but for now I wanna focus on sum summosnaps I've had on the back burner for a while now. Master post coming soon.

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #ryota housamo #shiro housamo #mc3 Vincent #Balor #yoritomo #Hogan #Mineaki #avarga #oc Ryugo #housamo fanfic

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cannibal-witchh · 4 years

Text

"I'm No Hero, Lady"

Reader(fem) x Carlos Oliveira

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Violence, gore, vulgar language, some fluff

Notes: I previously wrote a fluff fanfic about Carlos snuggling the reader in bed during a storm. The reader had a nightmare about the past which was the incident in Racoon City. This is the scenario that occurred when the reader is saved by Carlos before the end up together.

The previous story:

The city was cast in flames, the fire resembled an angry ocean of embers, quickly devouring collapsing buildings and destroyed vehicles. The decaying humans once recognizable, slowly met the fate of existing as the undead, as putrefing skin consumed them. There were several minutes of sickening screams, gnashing of teeth, buildings crumbling, and the blazing of an angry sea of heat. And the following after that was stilled silence, painful, vacant, lifeless, and numbing. The air almost seemed heavy, ears desperate and clawing for a sound to be stirred.

Several hours had past since a violent rage of a deadly pandemic disturbed Racoon City. You had been locked away in your supervisor's office at the museum, alone and terrified. You possessed no expierence in defense, you were simply a staff member of the local museum. It wasn't until an unfamiliar face offered you help, it was an incredibly risky gamble to take, but it was either be supposedly 'saved' or stay under a desk in a poorly protected office for however long.

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to stay close to me, there's too many of those freaks roaming around, and from the little knowledge disclosed they are very contagious. A bite, maybe a scratch, will cause a nasty infection.", Carlos informed as you nervously followed closely behind. He was leading you through the south wing of the museum where the dinosaur fossils were displayed. It was eerie, the entire large room completely in darkness, and Carlos' gun light being the only illumination you both had. " Relax, I took all these fuckers out already. You're safe, lady. " he looked over his shoulder at you and gave a warm grin. It was hard to find complete emotional relief but he certainly was charming. His shaggy dark hair brushing on his forehead and above his brown eyes, his olive muscular figure, and his scruffy beard. He definitely was handsome and unusually young to be working in this field. " How many of them were there?", you whispered, darting your eyes all around the room, examining for any movement or noise.

" Maybe twenty, there wasn't too many."

" What about how many survivors you and your team found?"

" Sadly, just fifteen. Either civilians refused help and barricaded themselves in. Or they were found too late and turned into one of those monsters."

" That's awful.", you felt the sting of reality flood through your body. Just fifteen. You continued pacing attentively behind him as he held his rifle close against his chest. "Walk carefully over here, this is where I had to clear a group of them out.", he muttered as you both managed to enter the corridor leaving the fossil room. There were adleast ten dead bodies scattered along the ground. Gore staining the white tiles, the stench of expiration filling the narrow hall, and decoral tarnished and destroyed everywhere. Discomposure deluged your body, you froze, standing idle, and quivering. It was an electric feeling of absolute fear that paralyzed you. You would have to maneuver around carcuses that could still possibly be alive, and you were not in proper attire to protect yourself at all from their attacks. You dressed in a tight grey houndstooth pencil skirt, and a silk mint collared blouse. Definitely not fit for an apocalypse. Carlos turned facing you, realizing you had stopped following him. His expression was serious for a few seconds, and a few times he would glance behind him confirming nothing was there. " C'mon, Y/N, we don't have much time." He beckoned

" I can't, I'm afraid."

"I cleared all this hallway, I promise. I won't let them hurt you.'

"I'm sorry Carlos. I'm too afraid...", you admitted with humiliation.

" Lady, ugh...don't hit me ok?", he playfully smiled and swung his rifle around his back. He plodded over to you and quietly scooped you up against his chest. He let out a awkward giggle and started to regain his balance with your weight. For someone who just witnessed this horrible pandemic, killed the undead, and did this independently he sure was calm. It was comforting, though. "Sorry, but I'm not leaving you behind nor am I wasting time.", he glanced over at you, making brief eye contact. His eyes were soft, it didn't display the slightest fear, and his hair swayed side to side above his gentle eyes. For someone roaming around in rubble, blood, and sweat, his aroma smelled wonderful. He smelled of spices and his own sweat. It was strange but he didn't smell too bad. Carlos coggled back ahead, carefully stepping over corpses, and just as he promised, they really were all dead. Occasionally, he would bounce you up to gain more security when holding you. You draped your arms tightly around his neck to stay supported. His breathing was slow and quiet against your face as he carried you closer and closer to the exit. " Do me a favor, please. Please watch my back.", he requested finally making it to the exit. The exit sign flickered red, static occasionally sparking from the sign, and shimmering down onto the ground. You looked over Carlos' shoulder and with your relief, nothing was there. No rustles and no movements. Carlos was struggling to open the door, he continued to press against the bar of the wide door a few times until he finally gave up. " Fuck!", he quietly shouted as he stepped back from the door. He took a few more steps back until he had a little space between the door and him. He lifted his foot up and kicked out the door. The door rattled loudly and swung wide open. " Thank God,", he sighed in relief as he transported you outside the museum.

"OK, ok, you can let me go. Sorry, for the trouble. ", you bashfully removed your arms from over his neck, and he slowly lowered you to your feet. "Didn't like being held, huh? I'm just kidding, let's keep going.", he teased as he began walking down the alongated museum alleyway. The two of you had finally made it out of the museum, and the alleyways seemed relatively tame. There wasn't too many corpses lurking down it. And the ones that did approach the two of you, Carlos would resolve with a knife to their skull and quickly they would collapse. He tried not to resolve issues with his gun unless it was when it was absolutely out of control. A few minutes of carefully walking down the backstreet, there was an abrupt crash of shattering glass behind you. It startled you and you immediately drew your eyes to the direction of the loud sound. " C-Carlos...", you stuttered backing away in terror. The virus effected animals too. A large dog had launched itself out of the window, snarling and foaming blood from between its teeth. He stood in an agressively pose, not removing its eyes on Carlos or you. " Try staying quiet, Y/N. We don't need to attract more attention."

"P-p....please shoot it..", your eyes watered on the verge of a break down.

The dog darted forward directly at you, something yanked at your wrist pulling you backwards. Carlos had grabbed you leading you both into a full on sprint. " I don't want to fire off in such a small space. I'm not sure if other freaks are around and they'll go towards the sound. We have to be careful." He quickly clarified, dragging you by the wrist to the very end of the alley. The dog continued racing towards the two of you, snarling and barking loudly. "Carlos!!!", the dog jumped forward at you, nearly biting your arm but a bullet dove forward directly into its skull. The dog flew backwards in a pained whimper. " Shit!", Carlos cursed in frustration, he moved his head around examining all directions. " Fuck, fuck, fuck...we gotta go!", he gripped your wrist and began to guide the both of you back towards the middle of the alley. The dead had be drawn to all the barking and the gun shot. Unfortunately, a group was forming on both ends of the alleyway, and blocking any escape. " Y/N, look! ", a broken fire escape ladder hung in the middle of the alley, it was the absolute only opportunity to escape. Carlos squated down, holding his hands together to give you a boost up to it. " Go, go, go, ", he chanted trying to sound as hopeful as he could. You hoped up and grabbed the ladder, with as much strength as you could gather, you began to pull yourself up. The swarm of creatures got closer and closer and you feared for Carlos' safety. Come on climb already! He jumped as high as he could, latching on to the ladder, and pulling himself quickly up. He let out multiple gasps of air in exhaustion and then gestured with his head to continue climbing all the way up. "Let's get all the way up, away from these fuck faces!", you both felt rattling from the fire escape with each step and climb you both took. You felt unsecure having your weight, Carlos', and his equipment. Within a few minutes of climbing up very high, you both managed to get to the roof of the building. Carlos immediately dropped his gun to the ground and laid on his back. For minutes, he laid there breathing heavily as if he ran a marathon. You walked a few feet away from him, dropping to the ground, and covering your face in your palms. So many emotions churned inside your mind, you were exhausted, terrified, confused, and livid. What was going on? Tears began collecting in your eyes, you failed to suppress the tense emotions clenching your chest, your body quivering in shock, and you began to fall apart in your own hands.

"What's wrong, Y/N? Are you hurt?", a large hand squeezed your shoulder.

" No..., I just, I dont know if I can take all this.", you sniffed continuing to conceal your face away from Carlos'. You felt his large arms wrap around you, pulling you close against him, and he rested his head against your's. " I get it. I'm scared shitless too. But you know what, we aren't doing so bad. We've survived this long."

" I only survived because you decided to be a hero and save me! I would've died on my own. I'm useless!", you cried, feeling tears escape between your finger tips. "Woah, no, you aren't useless. Its not like every other day a random pandemic hits and you get used to this stuff. I've never dealt with this shit before in my life. This is new. Everyone is just trying to survive, you made it on your own for hours with no help. Don't be so hard on yourself." Carlos brushed his large hands against your arms trying his best to calm you. He wasn't exactly great with words but you could tell he tried to make effort. You lowered your hands, revealing your tired red eyes, your face sticky and hot from crying. You felt embarrassed but it was just so difficult to keep it together. " We are almost out of here, chin up.", he grinned, squeezing you against him warmly. " T-Thank you, I'm so sorry you're putting up with my shit.", you glanced from the corner of your eyes at him, too embarrassed to completely turn over to show your reddened face. " Stop. Look at me.", you obeyed his request, although it was hard, you turned to face him. " This is what I'm here for. I want to help and I am happy to help you. Its a plus that you're a cute lady running around in a pencil skirt too. " He teased patting the top of your head, ruffling your hair and giving a light hearted giggle.

Unexpectedly, Carlos' walkie talkie beeped and static flooded through for a brief moment. " Carlos, where are you? Are you alive?"

"Tyrell, I'm alive, surprisingly. I'm up on a roof across Racoon City's museum with one survivor."

"Good! I hadn't heard from you for hours wanted to make sure you weren't having too much fun. So you only found one survivor?"

"Just one. I looked in several areas in the B territory but either the survivors were barricading themselves and uncooperative or turning."

" Shit, well, the boss man says we have to make this our last run. Things are getting bad and we are borderline at max capacity. Hurry up! I will stall."

There was a beep following static and it then it ended. " Looks, like we have to go. I have to take you to the exit we made. There will be a bus and they will take you far from this city to safety."

"What about you? You make it sound like you're not coming?"

"My commands remain. I have to stay."

You felt your cheeks buzz with heat, he was directed to remain?

****

Carlos and you had waited on the roof top for adleast half an hour. He had given Tyrell an update before the two of you finally climbed down the ladder. Luckily, all the zombies had migrated else where. The two of you quietly hurried, it took nearly another fourty minutes before you finally saw a buses gathered by an exit. It was filled with a civilians, and surrounded by military workers. You felt relief hit you, as you saw other evidence of survivors and humanity. You looked over at Carlos, he turned to face you completely, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "It was a pleasure helping you.", he smiled, squeezing your shoulder as he walked you to the bus. A doctor on his team examined you for any signs of infections before you boarded, thankfully, you were ok. Thanks to Carlos. You entered the bus and turned around to properly depart from Racoon City, and to depart from your hero. " Thank you, Carlos. You really are a hero.", you smiled displaying truely appreciation. Carlos chuckled for a second and shook his head. " I'm no hero, lady. Hopefully, I see you around. Hopefully, still running around in a cute pencil skirt! ", he winked playfully, as blush scattered across his face and your's. Was he flirting with you? "Just try finding me at museum then. Well, thank you, Carlos. Really. Thank you.", you leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

"Until then."

The bus door closed, and you moved to your seat. You watched as the bus began to leave, your eyes fixed on Carlos, as your view grew smaller and smaller of the city and him. You hoped maybe one day you would see him again. You hoped your hero would survive this. You believed he would.

#resident evil #re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira imagine #carlos oliveira fanfic #carlos oliveira #fanfic #resident evil fanfic

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

Text

Chapter 7: Threads

Hello! Long time no see! The delay was unplanned and I'm sorry about that. I had an idea in the meantime to add more fluff chapters before shit starts to go down but then I couldn't get to writing them while telling myself that I will write them eventually, and then I had other ideas, and I was writing for Summer in the Archives, and so we are where we are. I decided to just keep posting what I have and if I do feel like adding fluff that would be happening in the meantime then I will just make a separate work in the series. I'm aiming to go back to my weekly schedule (haha), so I hope I can get the next chapter out next Friday. As always, please leave me a comment or come yell at me here on tumblr, it always brightens my day and keeps my motivation up! Enjoy <3

Martin looks at Jon’s sleeping face and thoughts swirl inside his head like tendrils of the mist that has been following him, tendrils that meet in one specific place – his feelings for him. He’s not proud of the fact that this is where his thoughts end up turning every time he thinks about Jon, considering the severity of the situation Sasha explained to him, but he cannot help wondering – despite his better judgement – if Jon doesn’t share them. He replays the worry in his brown eyes, the tight hugs, always ensuring he’s there, safe, and whole… He might be adding meaning to otherwise ordinary actions, of course, but he can allow himself to hope, for when that hope sparks inside him, the fog withdraws.

Jon is wrapped in a blanket on the cot in the storage room, where Martin has laid him. They found him sleeping on the desk in his office, his eyes all red-rimmed and puffed up; they didn’t comment on it. Martin carried him to the storage room and placed his glasses nearby. Tim went to take Sasha home, so she can get some rest, too, and was supposed to come back with lunch; the events of the morning are laying heavy on all of them and have left them quite hungry.

Martin closes the door to the storage room and comes back to his desk. Working seems a bit pointless when you know that your boss is scheming an apocalypse somewhere behind your back and you can’t quit the job, but he finds himself needing a distraction, so he opens up his computer to do some follow up research on Jason North and the alleged ritual site he found in the middle of a Scottish forest. Martin’s never been good with research, not like Sasha, so he soon stumbles upon a dead end. He ends up researching pictures for Scottish forests and cottages, and he daydreams, with his poem notebook by his side. How nice would it be to just move to Scotland, to a cottage like that and forget everything. Grow your own vegetables and herbs, welcome the sun every morning with a cup of tea; go down to the town for some groceries, meet some good cows; and maybe Jon is there with him, and he finally gets through to his head that he shouldn’t make tea in the microwave, and they cuddle on the couch while reading—

“’scuse us,” comes a deep voice and Martin looks up, startled, to find two delivery men standing there, in the Archives, with a big package next to them.

“Looking for the Archivist,” the other man says, but Martin figures that just because the voice is coming from a slightly different direction. They sound exactly the same; he finds they look similar, too. Their clothes are identical; they’re different makes and all but somehow, he can’t tell these two men apart. There’s… something off to them.

“Sorry, are you two meant—” Martin blinks, but one of them interrupts him.

“Won’t take up your time.”

“Just got a delivery.”

Martin opens his mouth, trying to process the fact that they seem to be two parts of the same whole. He wouldn’t be able to explain this thought if asked, but this is what runs through his head.

“Look, you really can’t actually—”

“Package for Jonathan Sims.”

“Says right here.”

He looks and yes, there, on the package, says ‘Jonathan Sims’ in a very ordinary, unassuming writing. He glances over at the door to the storage room and back at the two men.

“Well, he’s not—”

“We’ll just leave it with you.”

“Be sure he gets it.”

Martin struggles for words.

“Okay, I will, but you really have to actually—”

“’course. Much obliged.”

“Stay safe.”

“I’ll… try?” He responds with the first thing that goes into his head.

“Your recorder’s on, by the way.”

“Might wanna change that.”

Martin looks at his desk and he notices a tape whirring steadily in the recorder.

“Oh… so it is. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“At all.”

They both turn as one and leave Martin, the recorder, and the package alone. He hums, looking from one to the other and back.

“Well, I know for a fact that I did not turn you on,” Martin speaks to the recorder. “Maybe Tim felt in a mood for a prank. It is April Fool’s after all,” he huffs out a laugh. “Would be his style to do something, even with… all this happening.”

He stops the recording and turns to the package; before he can do anything else, though, the recorder clicks itself back on. Martin gives it a sideways look and his heart picks up the pace. He frowns and clicks stop again. One second. Two. There; it clicks the red button on its own.

Martin stands up and takes a step back.

“What the hell,” he breathes out.

Suddenly he hears a familiar laugh from the top of the stairs and energetic steps running down. Tim emerges from the doorway and gives him a surprised look.

“You okay, Marto?” He asks and places a paper bag on his desk, then points his chin at the package. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” Martin collects himself in a second. “Two delivery men just came by. It’s for Jon, apparently.”

Tim places a second paper bag and his coffee cup on his desk and walks around the package.

“No sender. Interesting.” He strokes his chin and looks at Martin with a grin. “We should open it.”

“Tim!”

“Look, boss is asleep, the package came to the Archives and not to his house, how private can it be?” Tim throws his arms up but seems to be watching Martin’s reaction more carefully. He doesn’t look very bothered, Tim assesses; he seems to be equally interested in the contents. He sighs and tosses him a letter opener.

“Fine, but you’re taking the blame,” Martin rolls his eyes with mock exasperation, and Tim’s grin gets wider.

“That’s the spirit!” He cuts the tape at the corners and opens the packaging to reveal an old wooden table; there’s a hole in the centre, Tim reckons about six inches square, and its surface is covered in intricate patterns resembling optical illusions. He frowns at it. “Huh. A table. Why would Jon…” He trails off as his eyes follow the hypnotizing patterns. “Interesting…”

Martin watches as Tim drops the letter knife to the floor, enraptured by the table. He wants to say something, to call out his name, but the fog from the edges of his vision spills out at the sight of the table and it blocks out the world; Martin stops feeling the chair underneath him and finds himself stranded in a sea of grey, thick fog.

“Tim? Tim!” He calls out but there’s no answer. There would be no answer, ever; he’s all alone here.

—

Jon wakes up to a nagging feeling that something is wrong. He blinks, trying to get rid of the sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids and gathers his bearings. He realizes he’s on the cot in the storage room, a blanket thrown to the floor next to him. He still feels too hot, and he takes off his sweater vest. What’s this feeling, gently pricking at the back of his mind?

He gets up, wobbly as he feels, and makes his way to the door. As he opens it, a voice makes its way to his ears.

“…friend mentioned poetry?” Jon squints his eyes, as light reaches him, yet he immediately recognizes the voice.

“…Gerry?” He asks and blinks – yes, he can make out the thin and long figure dressed in black, sitting on top of Tim’s desk. Tim is there too, leaning against Martin’s desk in front of Gerry, and Martin sits in the chair, his cheeks coloured just a little with faint pink. They all turn to him with surprise when he emerges. He can feel tension in the room, and he acknowledges the presence of something that looks like a table covered with a blanket in the middle of the room; the nagging in his mind grows into anxiety. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin jumps up to him with genuine worry and Jon smiles slightly, as he shakes his head.

“No.” He blinks again, to chase away the sleep and looks at Gerry and his inscrutable expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry gets down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

Jon frowns with worry.

“Gerry, I’m serious.”

Something in Gerry’s demeanour changes as he sighs, and his expression clears.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I’m in,” he says. “Whatever your crazy plan is, if you even have one, I want to hear it or help you make it; you weren’t picking up your phone, so I decided to come, pay you a visit.” He glances towards the table and his eyes cloud with a shadow. “And it turns out it’s good that I did.”

“What is this?” Jon walks over to the table and three pairs of hands shoot out to stop him. Gerry’s touch lingers comfortably, because apparently that’s what he does, and Jon isn’t so sure he minds it.

“An old table, with weird, hypnotizing patterns,” Tim says, and Jon detects a tinge of guilt in his voice.

“Did it have a hole in the middle?” He asks urgently and Tim nods.

“We need to get rid of it,” Jon looks in the direction of the stairs. “Put it in the Artifact Storage and make sure it’s covered.”

“Are you familiar with it?” Martin asks and Jon nods.

“Amy Patel case; the one where a person got replaced. Why would they—” Jon’s face falls and he turns to Martin and Tim. “Who delivered it?”

“It was two delivery men, really big, quite intimidating, but—uh, now that I think about it I can’t remember what they looked like…”

“Shit,” Jon sighs and rubs his face. “Okay, we really do need a plan.” He looks over their faces and his eyes stop at Martin’s disgruntled expression. “What is it?”

“What you need is rest,” he crosses his arms. “You pulled an all-nighter with Sasha, and you haven’t even slept for two hours now.”

“You do look like shit,” Gerry offers his insight and Jon fixes him with a glare.

“I can’t protect you when I’m asleep,” he says and looks pointedly at the table. “Clearly. Tell me wha—” He stops when Gerry squeezes his arm sharply. He takes note of the static in the air and clears his throat. “I want to know what happened.”

Tim sighs.

“Alright, it is kinda my fault,” he admits looking away. “I insisted on opening your package to see what’s inside. But in my defence, I thought it would be something funny; at least a bit humiliating for you, and we could laugh it off. The mood’s been horrible lately,” he grimaces. “The lines kind of… hypnotized me. I couldn’t look away and I started getting lost in them. It… It felt like being trapped in a web; the more I struggled to look away, the harder it was. I don’t know how much time had passed before your resident goth intervened. Then I came back to myself and Martin… he was grey again.”

Jon glances worriedly at Martin, who starts fidgeting with his fingers.

“I didn’t think you guys could see that,” he confesses. “It’s… it’s that fog you mentioned,” he says to Jon who nods, his lips pressed together. “It was… stronger this time.”

“He was a step from disappearing,” Gerry says, looking at Jon curiously. “I thought you guys were new here.”

“We are,” Tim says, looking at Jon pointedly. “You said you know why that happens.”

“I did,” Jon sighs and leans against the desk, next to Gerry. “I’m—Martin, I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Martin looks away and he mutters something along the lines of “don’t worry about it”.

“The fog is… another one of the fears; called The Lonely or The Forsaken,” Jon says, looking somewhere into space. “It’s the fear that you’re all alone, that you can’t connect with anyone. Martin…” He exhales. “I have reasons to believe that your connection to the Lonely might have appeared in this… reality, along with my memories.” He finally looks up at Martin; there are no emotions on his face. “When did the fog first appear?”

“S-Sometime when I got transferred into the Archives,” he nods. “I thought it was just anxiety, but… y-yeah, it makes sense, I suppose.”

“You still don’t remember what you did to end up here?” Gerry asks and Jon shakes his head; Gerry clicks his tongue.

“So, what do we do now?” Tim looks at Jon. “What is Elias’ plan?”

“I…” He rubs his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I…” He trails off looking at them. They are waiting for him to tell them what to do. Martin, with colour in his eyes and something else there, something Jon doesn’t let himself think about; Tim, whom he hasn’t hurt yet, who still has hope and who isn’t filled with bitter anger and sorrow; and Gerry who’s alive, here with him, offering his help. Jon thinks about Sasha, the real Sasha who’s still there. He can’t protect them all from other Entities and Elias. Even with all of his knowledge, Elias still has more power here than him, and Jon sees that his threats weren’t a bluff. Jon deflates with a sigh. “We need to know if there’s a way to fill the tunnels with CO2 before the Hive attacks; and I need the table sealed shut - it’s not getting anyone this time. Other than that, I think we need to work the statements, like before.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Elias is serving an Eye power and not letting us leave, and I’m supposed to still work for him?”

Jon swallows.

“Elias… He’s dangerous. Even with everything I know, he can still hurt us. I’m not risking an open war with him.”

“What is he gonna do, kill us?” Tim scoffs but he goes quiet when Jon gives him a hard stare. “Fuck off.”

“Murder isn’t usually his style of dealing with things, he generally prefers threats and blackmail, but he can definitely do that, too,” Jon says. “Let’s just say we don’t want to piss him off more than is necessary.”

“You literally punched him in the face today.”

“Yes, I know.” Jon grits his teeth and looks away. Tim narrows his eyes.

“He threatened you, didn’t he?” He asks and takes a step towards Jon. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jon says coldly. “We need to get back to work.”

“Oh, no, you’re going back home and getting some sleep,” Martin shakes his head. “Or we refuse to work.”

Jon groans but Gerry places a hand on his shoulder.

“Go, Jon, I’ll keep an eye on them,” he promises and after a second of searching his face, Jon gives in.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“You, too,” Martin says and hands him the paper bag from his desk. “Eat this.”

Jon gives him a grateful smile and, with a last look at them, walks to the stairs and climbs up.

—

Gerry Delano sits comfortably on a park bench with a cup of coffee in his hand and sips on it slowly; he thinks about the things the new Archivist – Jon – said to him this morning. He looked tired; the bags under his eyes, the messy hair, the absolutely horrendous smoking habit (at that Gerry just chuckles to himself) and the clean but messy clothes speak for themselves, and Gerry didn’t want to say it, obviously, but it was this entire image of an absolute mess of a confused man that made him believe him. The marks are curious, yes, but Gerry has seen many things which he doesn’t understand, and he’s okay with that. No, this man is clearly in need of support and if he’s really taken over for Gertrude (and, judging by the sheer amount of his energy just screamingBeholding, that was very probable), he is in for one hell of a ride.

If Gerry would have to describe his perfect life, with his mother and Gertrude gone, he’d probably say he wants to find a normal job and get some peace and quiet; that being said, he did try that as a teenager, running away from his mother and her life. He told himself then that he didn’t belong in the normal world and would always find his way back to his mother. He abandoned that dream for a while, until Gertrude offered to help him get rid of his mother’s ghost. He thought that maybe if he helped Gertrude for a while, burned some Leitners in the meantime, maybe he’d have enough and manage to build a life that didn’t always border on getting killed by something supernatural; and so his life went on and he never really grew to feel at home in the “normal” world. He’d about accepted the fact that he’ll probably die on the job with the old Archivist, and he wasn’t very surprised to find how quickly he accepted it. It seemed fitting; much more so than getting a job at a coffee shop or other, and just living among people who had no idea what’s really out there. Then he got shot in Pittsburgh – a Slaughter case he’d tried to prevent – and he was forced to stay behind in the hospital. In some fleeting moments of consciousness he saw Gertrude holding the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead and he prepared himself to wake up as a ghost any time; instead, he woke up to an empty hospital room and a note in her handwriting – “Build your life here. Stay safe.” He thought if this weren’t his chance to build the life he’d imagined for himself then it would never come; and he was right. He soon discovered that making friends is way too difficult when you’re able to tell which Fear Entity marked them in that supernatural encounter they’re too scared to talk about, and he returned to London, searching for Jurgen Leitner himself. He thought he found him, but he ended up beating up someone who turned out to just be some pathetic old man. And here he is, back in the world his mother dragged him into without his consent. Gerry sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. Maybe the universe simply needs a pyromaniacal, angry goth who did in fact end up in the business of helping strays.

He directs his thoughts back to Jonathan Sims and the Institute. They need to form a plan and Jon said he would fill his assistants in on at least the basics. He takes out his phone and checks the time – 1 PM. He rules that’s enough time to explain the basics of the metaphysical functioning of the Fear Powers in the world.

He finds his last messages and opens the one Jon sent at his request for contact saving purposes – “Here. – Jon Sims”. He’s a creative one, isn’t he? Gerry saves the number as Jon Archivist, then changes it to Jarchivist, and grins; then swipes to call.

No answer. He tries again and it still goes to voicemail.

Gerry shrugs and finishes his coffee. He burned his last Leitner in the alley just before he met Jon, so he doesn’t exactly have any new leads. He thinks he might as well pay the Archives a visit; it’s been a while since he was there last time, with Gertrude.

The street is quiet when he walks up to the building. The aura of Beholding is quite strong here already and he looks at the Latin words above the entrance. “I watch, I listen, I wait.” Tacky.

He comes inside and turns towards the stairs leading down. He’s not surprised when the lady at the reception calls out to him.

“I’m sorry, sir! Can I help you?”

Gerry turns to her. She’s a small Chinese woman with a bob cut and huge glasses; she smiles but Gerry can recognize a customer service smile when he sees one.

“Oh, actually, I’m a friend of Jonathan Sims, the, uh, Head Archivist. Saw him this morning, I promised I’d drop a few notes.”

“Notes?” She glances over at the papers at her desk. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Gerry Delano,” he tries to smile as she checks something.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you anywhere as a potential source—”

“Oh, that’s weird. I worked with the previous Head Archivist, Gertrude Robinson? Jon had a couple questions about her management style, you know how it is,” he waves his hand. “New job can be stressful.”

She looks over his clothes and tattoos with a frown for a second and then sighs.

“Alright, Jon’s office is right downstairs, through the Archives, Mr. Delano.”

“Thank you very much,” he nods his head and runs down the stairs.

Gerry doesn’t know what he expected to find down in the Archives, to be honest. Probably Jon being interrogated by his assistants, or maybe no one at all; he definitely did not expect to find one tall man staring into swirling patterns of a table that gave him very mixed signals of the Web, and another man in his desk chair, staring into space with a very unnaturally grey stare and his form dissipating into mist.

“Oh, I swear to God,” Gerry curses under his nose and looks around. “Can’t I meet people normally once in a blue moon?”

He picks up a blanket that lays stranded on the ground and covers the table. He then snaps his fingers in front of the tall man’s face and waves his hand.

“Hey, you still there?” He asks and the man draws in a breath, rapidly, and blinks, then looks around in confusion.

“Wh-Wha…” His eyes land on Gerry and he frowns. “Who are you?”

“Someone who just saved your ass from something nasty,” Gerry says, turns to the other man and touches his shoulder. Still there.

“Oh, God, his eyes are grey again.” The tall man grabs his shoulders and shakes him. “Martin? Martin!”

“How did he manage to go so deep into the Lonely with you there?” Gerry asks and moves to look inside the Head Archivist’s office. Empty.

“Into the what? Martin!” He shakes him again and Martin blinks and exhales but does not acknowledge him at all. “Do you know what’s happening to him?”

“Where’s Jon?” Gerry looks at the man sternly.

“Jo—who the hell are you?” The man exclaims. “We need to snap him out of it!”

“It’s not that easy.” Gerry rolls his eyes and looks through Martin’s desk. “What does he love?”

“What?” The man looks at him confused and Gerry stifles a groan of frustration.

“Martin. He needs an anchor, something that he loves that will bring him back here.”

The man’s eyes search the desk frantically.

“Come on!” Gerry rushes him and the man groans.

“Can he hear me?”

“Allegedly.”

“What does that mean?!” He looks at him pressingly.

“It means I don’t know!” Gerry grabs one of Martin’s hands. “He might, if he’s not too far gone.”

“Martin,” the man grabs Martin’s other hand. “Martin, think about tea. Poetry. Um, about—” He’s cut off by Gerry’s groan of frustration. “What?!”

“That won’t work,” he shakes his head. “He’s in the fogs of The Lonely; he thinks he’s alone and that it’s never gonna change; that he can’t ever make meaningful connections with other people.”

The man’s eyes move frantically as he puts something together in his brain.

“Martin,” he squeezes his hand again. “I’m here with you, you hear me? You’re not alone and Jon is here too, and Sasha will be here soon, and we will all be with you here because we are your friends, okay? We’re—” His voice catches when Martin’s grey gaze lands on his face. Gerry unknowingly nods for him to continue. “Look, I know you’re convinced that you’re no help here because of that fake resume that everyone pretends not to know about, but you’ve been such an amazing friend through these couple of months and—” he searches for words before continuing. “And I know you have feelings for Jon, and you need to think about him because if you ask me, he’s head over heels for you too, and you’re just too oblivious to realize, both of you,” he laughs and a tear streams down his face. “So you need to think about him because he needs you to be here and stay here, and we need you too, okay, Marto, we—we really do…” He inhales, as Martin squeezes his hand back and blinks. The man sighs deeply with relief and leans his forehead on their joined hands.

“Tim…?” Martin speaks up with a very gentle, detached voice and then his gaze lands on Gerry who has now let go of his hand and stands back up. “Who’s that?”

Tim looks up and wipes away another stray tear, then stands up to face him.

“Yeah,” he frowns. “That’s a good question.”

Gerry smirks and climbs up to sit at one of the desks.

“Seeing how I just might have saved your lives; I’d rather think some thanks are in order.”

“I’m not kidding, who the fuck are you?” Tim crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. Gerry notices he stares at his tattoos like he’s trying to remember something.

“Eh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Name’s Gerry Delano, but you may know me as Gerard Keay.”

Recognition flashes in Tim’s eyes.

“We had a statement about you!” He says and immediately frowns. “You killed a man.”

Gerry chuckles.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“What are you doing here?” Martin asks and Gerry crosses his legs.

“Waiting for Jon, actually. I thought I may find him here, but it appears I must have found his assistants, am I correct?”

“And you know Jon how?” Martin follows up; his voice gains a bit of depth to it, and he tilts his head, much more present than a second before.

“We met in an alley outside the Institute this morning,” Gerry shrugs. “Or, late night. Morning might be pushing it. He didn’t mention it?”

Tim sighs and rubs his face and Martin shakes his head.

“Eh, that’s fine. You two look like you have enough information to process for the next two months.”

“Something like that,” Tim nods and leans against Martin’s desk. “Jon’s getting some sleep and we’d rather have no one disturb him. It’s been a… hard morning.”

“He did look like he hasn’t slept in a week, I’ll give you that.” Gerry shoots a glance at Martin; his skin is regaining color, but his eyes are still unnaturally grey, and the edges of his form are blurry; the fog still lingers. “Hey, um… Martin?” He asks and Martin looks at him with surprise.

“Yeah…?”

“Just getting your names since you haven’t introduced yourselves. But that’s okay, I’m good at picking up from context.” He smiles and continues before Tim can speak. “So, Martin, what is it that you do here?”

“Uh… excuse me?” He blinks.

“I’m just interested, tell me what your usual day consists of. What do you do for fun? Your friend mentioned poetry?”

He notes the blush on Martin’s face with some satisfaction; the dark green colour returns to his eyes, though, still, his edges remain blurry. Martin can’t answer however; as he takes a breath, he’s interrupted by the door to the storage room opening.

Jon looks, frankly, even worse than he did before; in addition to everything aforementioned, his eyes are now puffed up from sleeping and he has apparently ditched his sweater vest, leaving only a creased, light blue shirt.

“…Gerry?” He frowns at him and takes in the room. “Something happened.”

“God, Jon, did we wake you up?” Martin shoots upright and the edges of his form become solid for a second. Just a second.

“No,” he shakes his head and blinks at Gerry. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching a zombie rise from the dead, apparently.” Gerry jumps down from the desk and crosses his arms. “Also saving the lives of his assistants by accident. I know you said you’re a mess but good God.”

“Gerry, I’m serious.” Jon gives him a look and Gerry sighs, but it’s a sigh of mock exasperation which hides only fondness. From the moment he learned Jon is the Head Archivist, he knew he would be a lot different than Gertrude; even if at first it was “this kid is a proper mess” contrasted with Gertrude’s calculated craft. He can see that what actually makes him different, better, is that he cares. Even though Beholding has him in its grasp far stronger than it ever had Gertrude, he has that spark of human empathy that she deemed an obstacle. He wouldn’t be the kind to sacrifice his own assistants to stop the Apocalypse, which maybe doesn’t give them big chances of success, but makes Gerry trust him. It makes him feel safer and it makes him stand stronger, and maybe that is exactly what is needed. And that one detail, that seriousness in his voice when he asks what happened to his assistants – to his friends – and the worry in his eyes when he checks if they’re okay, that’s what fully convinces Gerry that this man is worth his effort. If they can’t save the world with a strength like that then maybe no one really can.

—

Martin opens the door to Jon’s office to see the man reading something in a book. He looks up at Martin and his lips twitch towards a smile.

“Hello, Martin,” Jon says and immediately yawns. “God, sorry.”

“I was about to ask you if you’re still working.” Martin takes a look at his desk; there’s two empty mugs pushed to the side, a tape recorder (not recording), and some books and papers. Martin notices Jon’s glasses are still where he left them after he found them near the cot in the storage room. “You’re wearing contacts now?” He asks and Jon raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Well, I- I noticed you didn’t wear glasses today,” Martin shrugs and points his chin at them. “You forgot them yesterday.”

Jon’s eyes stop at the pair of glasses, and he frowns.

“Huh.” He rubs his chin. “Checks out, I guess.”

“What?” Now Martin frowns and Jon looks up at him, breathing in.

“The, uh—The Eye powers,” he grimaces. “This happened before too. I don’t—I don’t need them anymore.”

“Oh.” Martin shifts. “Well, I just wanted to tell you, you should get some rest. It’s—It’s late.”

Jon smiles fondly, staring into the air. Martin wonders what he's thinking about. Is he going back to memories he doesn't have?

“I really should, shouldn't I?” Jon asks no one in particular and sighs. “Thank you, Martin.”

“F-For what?” Martin laughs a little bit confused, and Jon looks at him for a moment before he shrugs.

“For caring. For being there.”

Martin looks away and shifts awkwardly again. Jon's stare, though gentle, is piercing; overbearing. Martin can't yet decide if it's good or bad, but it is certainly a lot.

“I should—”

“Could you—”

They start at the same time and look at each other. Jon shakes his head and gestures with his hand.

“Please, go first.”

Martin takes a deep breath.

“Could you tell me what—what it is that you want me to remember?”

Jon opens his mouth and closes it. His forehead ripples.

“I...” he begins and sighs, looking at his desk. “I don't think it was you. I mean—I think that... that it was a different version of you. In my past.” He looks up and his brown eyes are sad. “So it makes sense you can't remember because it never actually happened for you.”

Martin deflates with a little “oh” and looks down. The hole in his mind is settling nicely in the fog and he doesn't question it. Why would he? It was always there. He’s only lived this life, not anything else – if anybody would know it would be Jon. And obviously, it was a different Martin that Jon fell— That Jon cared for.

“Were we…” Martin stops, the word “together" left hanging in the air, and Jon looks at him for a second before something flashes in his eyes.

“We don't—I mean, I can't really— It's, it wasn't you so...”

‘I can’t really expect you to have the same feelings now’ is what Jon does not say, but Martin, of course, has no way of knowing that.

“Right,” Martin nods, and he can see Jon's cheeks blush, much the same as his own must right now. Martin swallows the awkwardness and nods again. “Alright, I'll, uh... I'll leave you to it. Then. Get—uh, get some rest.”

He closes the door and exhales deeply. Well, that was disastrous; he thinks, as he walks towards the document storage. There’s something heavy weighing down on his chest but he chooses not to dwell on it; it wouldn’t provide him with any insights he didn’t already know.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma oftm #jonmartin #niki.writes #new posting format because i have not heard of consistency in my life #we're back at it!!#also i promised myself that i would finish this #i Will Not abandon this #we are powering through #and we can Do this

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triplethreatsonic · 4 years

Text

Triple Threat Drabble: The Stranger

Here it is, the drabble I said I’d share with you guys! I’ve done a sort of hybrid thing with this where there are one or two images integrated into the text that are basically like comic panels. (think Diary of a Wimpy Kid but hopefully more classy.) So make sure you pay attention to them as you read!

Also, this is a work in progress. So please don’t judge it too harshly :)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

___

Sonic was not a slow eater. He hadn't been one as a child, and at age seventeen he certainly wasn't one now. The hedgehog rarely spent more than a few minutes to inhale his food during lunch period. Today was no different— after making quick work of the cafeteria's lasagna, Sonic had pushed his plate aside and was now settled with his left leg comfortably draped on top of his right, one hand fiddling with his shoelace.

Across the table from him sat his friend, Knuckles the Echidna. Knuckles, who was one of the slowest eaters Sonic had ever seen, still had half his meal on his tray and was gradually picking away at a small bunch of grapes. "Probably." His eyes stayed on his hands as he smiled. "I don't think it'll be too bad, though; I'm looking forward to the history paper."

Sonic smirked. "I bet you are. I wonder what you'll write about this time. Maybe"—he cocked an eyebrow—"the ancient echidnas?"

"How'd you guess?" Knuckles smile widened as he dropped the now-empty grape stem onto his tray. Then he sighed, stretching his shoulders back. "I doubt the library has any new books on the topic, though. Seriously, they need an upgrade."

“Man, you're telling me. The other day, I—!" Sonic's thought was suddenly cut short. If you had asked him what he'd just been talking about, he probably couldn't have told you.

"No way..."

Something, or rather someone, had caught his attention— someone on the opposite side of the cafeteria, who had just sat down at a faraway table perpendicular to Sonic's position.

It was a male hedgehog— that much was obvious. Looking at him, Sonic could make out his dark jeans, white t-shirt, and thin red-and-black striped flannel with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. The stranger sat, seemingly in silence, listening to a white female bat sitting across from him.

None of this was what made Sonic stare, however; it was his quills.

Their coloring wasn't necessarily unnatural for a hedgehog, but it was certainly unusual. They were black, the top of each quill traced by a long red stripe. Sonic had never seen anything like them.

Except that he had-- several times. He'd seen them in his dream.

"Hey, Sonic! You ok?"

Knuckles words yanked Sonic out of his trance and back into the buzzing world of the lunch room. "Wha—? Oh, sorry man. Heh, guess I kinda zoned out for a second."

"What were you staring at?" Knuckles turned in his seat to scan the room behind him.

"Nothing!" The word flew out of Sonic's mouth much quicker than he would have liked. He quickly brushed it off with a shrug. "I just remembered something I gotta do before lunch is over. I'd better run—see you later, alright?"

Knuckles looked like he didn't quite believe him. "What do you gotta do?"

Sonic’s face smiled as his brain racked for an answer. "Uh, homework. Never ends, am I right?"

Now it was Knuckles turn to smirk. "Heh, right." He picked up his mini milk carton and took a swig. "Well, good luck. I'll see you in fifth."

"Later, Knux!" Sonic grinned and picked up his tray from the table, keeping his movements casual as he made his way to the garbage cans. Behind his calm exterior, however, Sonic's mind was racing. It was a coincidence. It was a weird coincidence. But that's all it could be, right? Just a really weird, off-putting coincidence that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.

So why was he so antsy all of a sudden?

Frankly, Sonic didn't even know why he had left Knuckles in such a hurry with that dumb fib about homework. What was he hoping to do? Was he planning to talk to the Weird-Coincidence Guy?

Well… it wasn't the worst idea.

Sonic's eyes flicked upwards from his tray; the black-and-red hedgehog was easy to pick out now that he knew he was there. Sonic's hands moved automatically, scraping his plates as he kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. The white bat across from him finished her sentence, waved, and then left, walking out through the cafeteria's main double doors. The black hedgehog watched her leave, a soda can held tightly in his hands. He barely moved at all.

Sonic dropped his plate unceremoniously into the designated bin. Now that the idea had entered his mind, he couldn’t shake it: he had to talk to him. As nonchalantly as he could, Sonic began weaving around chairs, backpacks and tables, gradually making his way to the strange hedgehog.

He was practically on top of him now. Sonic stopped walking, the black hedgehog a mere four feet ahead of him. He was facing away, hands still holding that soda can. Without so much as a second thought, Sonic smiled and said the first, most natural thing that came to his mind: “Hey!”

What happened next was the last thing Sonic had expected. The black hedgehog turned at his voice, saw him, and froze. His face paled and his eyes went wide. Something like an electric shock seemed to go through him, and the can in his hands crunched.

Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiing! The five-minute bell shouted rudely across the cafeteria, startling them both, and they were drowned in a wave of standing students. The black hedgehog was instantly blocked from view as three hundred teenagers, Human and Animal, began gathering their things and preparing to leave for classes.

“H-hey, wait a sec!” Sonic tried to see past the masses of knees and elbows, but quickly found that to be useless. He wasn’t one to give up easily, however; in seconds, Sonic had jumped onto the nearest table and was craning his neck to see over the sea of heads. Where could that guy have gone so quickly? Suddenly—there! Sonic barely caught sight of striped flannel as its wearer ducked around the corner of an adjacent hallway.

"Hey, dude, wait up!" Sonic was down in a flash. After shoving his way through the crowd he sprinted into the hall just as his target ran left down another. He called after him. "Yo, black hedgehog!" It became a game of cat and mouse as they chased each other down seemingly countless hallways and past endless classrooms. Sonic was fast on the track—the fastest in the state, in fact— but somehow this guy kept eluding him with all his constant turns.

Sonic finally whipped right around the ten-billionth corner only to come to an abrupt halt— the hallway ended just twenty feet in front of him. Sonic looked over his shoulder, then back at the dead end. He was positive this was the direction the hedgehog had dodged... so where did he go?

"Hello? Uh, you down here, man?" Sonic slowly walked forward as his question echoed in the empty hall. "I just wanna talk for a second."

Silence.

Then out of nowhere a blur of movement slammed into Sonic's chest, smashing him against a line of lockers. Sonic's breath was knocked out of him, and it took him a second to realize what had happened: standing there, with his forearm crushing Sonic’s ribs, was the black hedgehog. His eyes were mere inches away from his own. They were a bight crimson— to Sonic's astonishment, the color he expected them to be— with a ferocious, wild expression in them. There was also the depth of something that Sonic couldn’t quite name.

"Why are you following me?” he demanded.

Sonic’s hands flew up like a man held at gunpoint. "Woah, dude! Chill! I'm … I'm sorry!” It was still difficult to breathe. "I'm just… I just wanna… wanna talk!"

They stood there locked in place for a moment, both hedgehogs panting. A minute passed, and gradually something seemed to shift in the black hedgehog's eyes. He glanced downward at the arm that pinned Sonic, then back up at the hedgehog's face. Then he backed a few paces, his hands lowering to his sides.

Sonic pushed himself off the lockers and rubbed his chest. "Wow, you hit hard! You play football or something?" He gave the guy a smile. "Sorry. I probably really weirded you out back there—I said hi, but then the bell rang and you ran off and—"

"And you chased me." The hedgehog's voice was deeper than Sonic's when he spoke, with a sharp edge to it. The guy looked close to graduating— frankly, with his stern face, he barely looked like he belonged in high school at all. His arms moved to cross in front of his chest. "What do you want?"

"Uh..." Sonics brain suddenly froze. In that moment he realized that beyond his first hello, he hadn't actually thought of what he wanted to say to this guy. "I… I'm not sure. I just wanted to say hi, I guess."

"Why?"

"Well, um... aw, shoot, this sounds really stupid now." Sonic's smile turned sheepish. "I wanted to talk 'cause… you look kinda familiar?"

Other than a slight eyebrow raise, the black hedgehog didn’t move. His voice dripped with contempt. "Where on earth would I have met you before?"

"Heh, funny you should ask." Sonic shoved his thumbs in his pockets. "Uh, how long've you been at the school?"

"Three weeks."

Sonic did a double take. “Wait— really? Like, it's your first semester? But… you look like a senior."

"And?"

"Oh, I dunno... I guess thats just kinda rare, you know? New seniors? I'm a junior, myself." Sonic smiled, but the black hedgehog didn't flinch. He cleared his throat. "Well, anyway… You really do look super familiar to me. It's kinda freaky, actually."

The dark hedgehog's eyes narrowed. "And why would you say that?"

Sonic wasn't sure what reaction he'd been waiting for— maybe a good laugh, if anything— but it certainly wasn't what the black hedgehog was doing now. His shoulders hitched, fingers digging into his forearms. Even more surprising was his face; it had that same haunted look Sonic had glimpsed before— back in the cafeteria, right when the stranger had first seen him.

And then all at once it was gone, replaced by the earlier scowl. "That's ridiculous.”

Sonic’s hand dropped down from where it had been resting behind his head. “Um… yeah. Yeah, it is.”

They stood there in a heavy silence. The black hedgehog drummed his fingers against his arm. “Is that all?”

Sonic stared back at him. “… Yes.”

The other hedgehog looked at Sonic a moment longer, annoyed expression unchanging. Then with a ‘hmph’, he turned away abruptly, walking back towards the hallway through which they had come.

Sonic watched him leave. He felt the urge to say something, but nothing came to mind. Well, that was weird. What had he been expecting though, really? The whole reason for him talking to the guy was weird to begin with. It was funny; though Sonic was usually very confident around strangers, this whole conversation— which he himself had initiated— had made even him uncomfortable.

Sonic began to turn the in the opposite direction to head to his own class— only find himself staring at the dead-end hallway again. Whoops. There was only one other way to go.

The black hedgehog’s ear perked as footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned his head sharply. Sonic’s hands shot back up in the air again upon being caught. “Sorry, ignore me—my class is this way too.”

The stranger glared at Sonic a moment, then turned back and kept walking. Sonic waited a second, allowing for some space, then continued on behind.

There was almost no other sound as the two of them made their way down the hall. Sonic slipped his thumbs back into his pockets, trying not to look at the stranger. Eventually, he let his eyes drift to the back of the hedgehog’s head. What was up with the guy, anyway? He sure was a tough nut to crack— tougher than even Knuckles had been when they’d first met, and that was saying something. This guy refused to be warmed up in any way, shape, or form. Sonic had nothing to work with here, and it left him at a loss.

Eventually Sonic couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Hey,” he ventured, “sorry I got on your nerves back there."

If the other hedgehog heard him, he gave no sign of it.

A few more seconds passed. Sonic took a breath. "I probably shouldn’t have bothered you. It was kinda silly to say anything at all, to be honest. I probably wouldn’t’ve, either, if I’d only had the dream once. It's just weird, you know? ‘Cause I don’t even know you, but this guy that looks exactly like you is in the dream every single time, along with that other hedgehog—”

“I don’t care!”

Instantly, the black hedgehog was in Sonic’s face. Teeth bared, fangs showing, a threatening finger nearly stabbed Sonic in the eye. “I’m going to say this once, Blue Hedgehog. I don’t care about your dreams. I don’t care if I was in it, or that white hedgehog, or you, or anybody! And I’m tired of hearing about it.”

They stood there a moment, with Sonic for once in his life standing perfectly still. The black hedgehog’s finger lowered as he growled. “Are we clear?”

With the finger out of his face, Sonic slowly straightened. Ok, talking more was definitely not going to take any tension out of the air. He opened his mouth to give a simple reply.

Then something clicked. “Wait... How did you know the hedgehog was white?”

The scowl on the stranger’s face faded slightly, the air seeming to still. “What?” he breathed.

“The other hedgehog,” said Sonic, "I never mentioned what color his fur was.” Now he leaned forward, studying the stranger. He met his eyes. "How did you know it was white?”

The stranger gave no response. The blood had slowly drained from his face, leaving it ghostly pale as his mouth hung open wordlessly.

Then suddenly his face clenched, and a hand jerked out to slap Sonic away. “Enough!”

He dashed off. It took Sonic a second to recover from the unexpected shove. “Wha- Hey, dude, wait!" He sprinted around the corner ahead. "Where are you going—?!"

The black hedgehog was gone.

Sonic stood staring blankly down the empty hallway. What the heck? Thoughts swirled around his brain—half of them were questions, and the other half were answers that didn’t make sense. He leaned his left arm against the rough brick wall next to him.

Had “white” simply been a guess? A stab in the dark? Was that the color everybody thought of when they pictured the average hedgehog?

Or did he know, too?

Another blaring brrrring! from the bell startled Sonic out of his thoughts. “Aw, shoot.” He was late for chemistry. He took off at a sprint.

A few minutes later, Sonic would come rushing through his classroom door. He wouldn’t remember that he needed to grab his textbook from his locker until he was already inside. No excuse would be given when when his teacher scolded him, declaring solemnly that being the school’s track star did not justify him arriving late to class. Later, when everyone was paired up for experiments, Tails would ask him where he’d been; cutting it close was normal for Sonic, but arriving seven minutes after the bell was not. Sonic would hesitate a moment. Then he’d give his best friend a smile, ruffling the fur on his head. “It’s not really important,” he’d say, “no worries. Let’s just get these reactions done.”

Hours later, in dark of his bedroom, Sonic would still be thinking about that black hedgehog.

#I got it out today!!! I said I would and I did!#Hedgehogs are surprisingly hard to write guys! But I've been working on this for a while and have had a lot of fun with it.#I hope you like it too!#I'd love to hear your thoughts on it :)#my writing #triple threat sonic au #sonic au #sonic #shadow #knuckles #tails #my art

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