#without a collar or chip so I’m scared someone will get the wrong idea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kuroo-shitsurou · 4 years ago

Text

Communicate (Haiba Lev x kuudere!Reader)

note: first entry for haikyuu! i'm open for requests, just hmu! i apologize for any mistakes. some of my stories were intentionally made to be f!reader, but i figured gn!reader would be more appropriate. so i apologize if you see any she/her/names that are in the text. ^^

(i'm adding w/c now as well!)

word count: 3.8k

"He's not coming back tonight, no?"

For a few moments, there was silence. A gust of wind blew past the apartment complex, rustling the leaves of the trees planted down below. You sat on the chair set up on your balcony. Looking over the metal railings, you admired how the yellow and red taillights of cars stuck in traffic bobbed up and down the street. Somehow, they looked like Christmas lights tossed in a messy line; Like they were discarded the morning right after Christmas because the tree had to be taken down again.

You hugged the jacket closer to your arms, hoping to gain more warmth. Inhaling the fresh scent of laundry detergent, you smiled. Eyes crestfallen and tears just barely swimming in your ducts. The cold breeze of December brushed past your hair, tickling the back of your neck. It's the first Christmas I'm spending without you.

Your cat, Maika, jumped on your lap. She purred and mewled, rubbing her head against your warm hand. You managed to choke out a small chuckle, petting the white fur of the cat. You let your eyes wander to the glass doors connecting the living room and balcony. Your couch was there, a duvet carelessly thrown on top of it. You shouldn't help but let a few drops of salty tears fall down your cheeks.

You weren't really the type of person to cry over silly things. In fact, you rarely cried at all. As far as you remember, the last time you cried over something petty was back in second grade. You were teased for cutting your own hair; Your bangs looked choppy, and one classmate even mentioned how you managed to cut a giant chunk out from the back of your head. Admittedly, you were pretty stupid for messing around with the scissors you found on the table, but you didn't really know any better. Anyway, who knew that hair took so long to grow back?

Other than that, you don't recall crying anymore. Throughout your middle and high school years, tears weren't really present to disrupt your life. Not even when Kuroo accidentally spiked a ball into the back of your head, and not even when Yaku accidentally kicked your shin because you were standing too close to his original target, Lev.

Lev.

Although you didn't find any reason for letting yourself cry during those years, you couldn't help but tear up when you remembered Lev. You were incredibly proud of yourself for counting up to five days without crying every since Lev left your shared apartment. However, today was Christmas eve. There were approximately three hours before Christmas, and here you were, spending it with Maika, on the balcony, crying your eyes out.

To be completely honest, you knew that it was your fault that Lev left. You were a rather independent person. You had a bold personality; Never afraid of being blunt to people, never afraid of telling others if they needed to be scolded. However, you were an absolute novice when it came to showing affection to Lev.

It was a surprise, to say the least, to the entire volleyball team that the cold-hearted manager, _____-san, was dating the eccentric and hyperactive first year, Haiba Lev. Yaku, Kuroo, and Kai were in shock upon hearing the news from Lev. At first, they thought he was just kidding, but when they heard it from you, their minds were beyond boggled.

"Eh?!"

"Seriously?"

"Kuroo-san, why do you look so surprised? You too, Yaku-san. And Kai-senpai, I didn't think you'd be interested in my love life as well." You calmly said, clipboard firm against your chest, as your eyes scanned the volleyball posters displayed in the volleyball club room.

"W-Well, I didn't think it was actually true because Lev was the one saying it. I thought he was just bullshitting us." Yaku admitted, scratching the back of his head before sending you a sheepish smile.

"You're growing up too fast, _____-san!" Kuroo quipped, wrapping his arms around you like a doting aunt, "You have a boyfriend now, I'm getting old!"

"Kuroo-san, please stop patronizing me. I have feelings too. Why does this come as a surprise to you all? Inuoka-kun and Futakuchi-kun also asked me if Haiba-kun and I were actually dating. It's not like I'm a robot or anything, I can... contract love too." Your disheveled form pried Kuroo's arms away from you, and you dusted your shoulders off as if Kuroo left dirt atop of them.

"You don't contract love, _____. It's not a disease." Yaku laughed at your poor choice of words.

"You, see _____-san, we just didn't think that you were interested in romance for the time being, and for you to be dating someone like Lev, it's surprising. In a good way, though, don't get me wrong. Lev's a good kid." Kai was the calmest of the bunch, but he was simply masking his happiness. He was the one who invited you to be their manager, after all. He saw how you grew out of your shell gradually. It's nice to see you enjoying the years of your youth, as Kuroo would put it.

"Ah, I see. To be honest, I didn't think I would also participate in a romantic relationship with anyone this early on. However, Haiba-kun successfully caught my attention. I think it would be a fun experience. Whatever happens, I get to grasp a further understanding of our Russian first year, and I also gain knowledge on the department of... love." You mentioned nonchalantly.

Kuroo, Yaku, and Kai all exchanged knowing looks; Something that screamed: "Are you sure you're not a robot?"

"_____-chan!" Lev's excited voice was heard from outside of the gym. The first years finally arrived, signifying that practice would begin soon.

"Pardon me. Thank you for your time." You bowed politely to the three seniors and walked over to where the first years were leaving their things.

"_____-chan I missed you a lot today! I only got to see you in free period earlier, and that was barely 10 minutes, but you're here now!" Lev was like a puppy. He was bouncing around, showering you with genuine compliments and adorations, his smile reaching the heavens above. Perhaps, if you pat his head, an invisible tail would wag? You considered the idea.

You managed to hold back a smile of your own, only replying with, "Get prepared for practice, Haiba-kun."

"_____-chan, you can call me Lev, you know? Since we are dating and all." The Russian said softly, wanting to get his point across, but not wanting to scare you.

"Maybe next time, Haiba-kun."

When you slipped inside your living room, you couldn't help but let out a few more sobs. There was a Christmas tree left half decorated just beside your television. Cans of tea and red bull were laying just on the feet of the couch. Half-empty and empty packets of chips were on the coffee table. God, you left the living room in such a messy state.

You pulled Lev's enormous (Well, it was enormous on you. But on Lev, it was the perfect size) jacket closer to your body, wishing you could smell his scent instead of the laundry detergent.

Maika wandered into the living room and onto her cat bed, stretching her paws and making herself comfortable before she went to take a nap.

You couldn't help but acknowledge the absolute dumpster fire when you saw yourself in the full body mirror near the entrance of your hallway. You were wearing a pair of fuzzy pajamas, an oversized shirt covered in stains and crumbs, and Lev's Nekoma jacket. Your hair was messy and ruffled, and you looked... pale. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks puffy, but your lips were white. You had never looked so awful before.

"_____-chan, you look amazing as always!" Lev came bounding to you.

"Congratulations on graduating! I'm so proud of you!" He took you in a tight embrace, lifting you up and spinning you around.

"H-Haiba-kun, please put me down!" You squealed, wriggling around in Lev's grip, trying to get away. For a split second, you could've sworn that Lev's face darkened, but you decided to brush it off.

Once your feet touched the ground, you managed to say a short and quiet "Thank you."

"Ah, this is really happening, isn't it?" Lev shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the cherry blossom trees in full bloom.

"Y-Yeah. It will even eventually happen to you too, Haiba-kun. It's the way that life progresses," You knew that you were pathetic at mustering a good enough reply, so you chose to fumble with the hem of your collar.

"Hey, _____-chan, do you love me?" Lev asked, suddenly serious. His gaze was still fixated on the trees above, their branches freely swaying in the wind, a few cherry blossoms fluttering down as the breeze carried them away.

A blush creeped up on your cheeks. Of course you loved him! More than... anything, if you were being honest. More than volleyball, more than red bull, more than anime, but why couldn't you say it?

"Speak up, damn it!" You thought to yourself.

After a few minutes passed, you were still tongue-tied. You hated yourself for not being able to express your feelings. There were already tears in your eyes, but you didn't want to cry in front of Lev; You vowed that you never would.

Lev looked down to see his senior in a low mood. "Don't worry, _____-chan! It's okay if you can't say it yet, I understand." Lev caught a single cherry blossom as it was falling down and tucked it behind your ear, " I'll wait for the day that you can say it back, so for now, I'll say it for the both of us, okay?"

You were embarrassed. You were such an asshole for doing this to Lev. To make up for your lacking skills in communication, you tapped his hand. Curiously, he opened his palm, and you placed a small object on top of it.

Lev's smile contained nothing but pure, concentrated glee.

"Thank you for the button, _____-chan, I will always cherish this. Happy anniversary. I love you so much!"

You found yourself standing at the doorway of your shared bedroom. You longingly stared at the queen-sized bed. The sheets were crisp and the pillows were fluffed. You haven't been sleeping in that bed since Lev left the apartment. It just didn't feel right. There was something about a heavier loneliness whenever you tried to sleep alone in that bed when you were so damn used to having Lev sleep beside you. That's why you've been sleeping on the couch ever since; It's uncomfortable as all hell, yeah, but at least you don't feel a large empty space beside you when you sleep. Maybe a few crumbs here and there, but that was bearable.

You pattered your way back into the living room, where your laptop lay buried under the empty chip packets. You grabbed it from underneath the rubbish and brushed off other residue before plopping down on the couch. You slipped your arms into the sleeves of Lev's jacket and opened up your laptop. You've been neglecting your uni works for the past days because your sadness just didn't allow you to function properly.

Upon entering your passcode, the black background of the loading screen faded into a photo of you and Lev. He was wearing a minnie mouse headband, and you wore the matching mickey mouse one. You were standing in front of sleeping beauty's castle at Tokyo disneyland. You were wearing Lev's gray hoodie, which made it look like you were wearing a really short dress because of how long it was. You were both smiling like idiots, and you recalled that that trip was one of the best of your life. You never usually smiled like that, but because Lev carried you bridal style and kept touching your sides, you couldn't help but squirm and smile in the photo.

Once again, tears were brimming in the corners of your eyes. The stinging pain of heartbreak and regret stabbing you over and over again.

"It's Christmas in five days, _____." Lev popped up from behind you while you were decorating the tree.

"Jeez! Don't scare me like that, I nearly dropped the lights." You replied, calming your racing heart. Was it because of how he scared you, or because of how close he was? Honestly. you couldn't tell.

Lev could only chuckle at this, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He gave you a kiss on the cheek. "You know, my first year at uni has been great so far. Thanks to you and a few of my friends."

"That's great then." You said, tone of voice returning to a monotone one.

"I love you, _____."

You couldn't even recall all the times that you froze up whenever Lev admitted his feelings for you, but add one to whatever number it's at right now.

You could only swallow your saliva and grip the lights tighter. Say it, ______, say it! You kept yelling in your head. Why can't you fucking say it?!

"I knew it." A low laugh was heard from Lev's mouth. His fists were turning white because of how hard he balled them up. His nails were digging into his palm. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even actually love me. But I guess you never did."

You turned your head abruptly. "Haiba, that's-"

Lev let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back. "We've been dating for over three years now and you still call me by my last name. Are you that uncomfortable with me, _____-san?"

You cringed at how he emphasized the honorific following your name, probably trying to prove a point.

"You know that's not true."

"Of course it is!" He snapped. " For god's sake, _____, three years! Three years, and not once have you told me that you love me!"

You were on the brink of crying. No. No, not in front of him. You weren't weak, you weren't going to cry.

"In all those years that we've been together, I have never seen you cry. Not even when we're upset with one another. Are you... that cold-hearted that you don't care or you don't even feel anything? Not even for your own boyfriend?"

Silence.

The words he spat were like venom.

You couldn't speak. Your mouth felt dry and your throat felt like it closed in an instant, like some sort of invisible throat cover just squeezed itself right there, preventing you from speaking.

"I see how it is."

With that, Lev spun on his heel and went to their room. He grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with a couple of shirts, his wallet, his phone, charger, and other necessities. He slipped on the thickest jacket he owned and went straight to the front door.

"Le-"

"Goodbye."

He slammed the door shut.

That was probably the first time that you broke down in years. Who knew that it would be a guy behind your facade fading?

Who knew that Haiba Lev would be the one to make you realize that being strong-willed didn't mean being cold-hearted and nonchalant?

"Stupid Lev." You muttered to yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. Admittedly, his name seemed to roll off your tongue nicely.

You desperately tried to wipe your tears away, but they just kept coming.

"Why do I love you so much?"

"Lev, are you sure you're okay with what you're doing?" Yaku asked the taller male, taking a sip from his beer mug.

"Yaku-san, we've been together for a little over three years. They've never told me that they loves me. Never even cried. I think they're just that stone-hearted," Lev replied, taking a shot of vodka. "Either that or they're a fucking robot."

He fiddled with the necklace around his neck, contemplating whether he was going to pull it off and stomp on it until it broke. The charm attached to his necklace was the button that _____ gave him on back during her graduation day.

"Lev, you better listen to me, and you better listen real fucking good." Yaku's tone of voice was sharp, and it was something that Lev hasn't heard since his years at Nekoma. "You do know that _____ can't express their emotions well, right? They're blunt with everybody, and they're honest. But when it comes to love or romance or feelings that make them happy, you know that they can't show it as easily as you do."

"Yeah, I know." Lev answered quietly.

"But you do know that they love you, right?"

"I don't."

"You're telling me that you've never even felt that they love you?"

Suddenly, Lev's eyes shot open.

"Christ, you're going to catch a cold! Why the hell did you run out in this rain?!"

"Sorry, sorry! I just had to rush here to see you! I missed you soooo much!"

"Get inside and hop in the shower. I'll prepare some warm food for you while you're in there. There's a spare towel in the cupboard above the sink."

"Thank you, _____-chan!"

"Stupid beanpole. I told you to change clothes after practice yesterday, didn't I?"

"Sorry, _____-chan. I totally forgot." He coughed.

"Here, drink this medicine. I'll reheat your porridge and grab you a cold towel for your head. I'll also bring in the assignments that Inuoka gave me."

"You'd be a good wife, _____-chan. My wife, that is." Another cough.

"Shut up and rest before I hit you with this notebook."

"Yes, yes, darling."

"Where were you?! We've been looking for you everywhere!"

"S-Sorry, _____-chan. I saw this cat stuck in a tree and I just had to rescue it!"

"Don't go running off like that! Do you know how worried the team was? How worried I was?! I thought you were gone! Look at how many scratches you have on your arm. You need to go to the infirmary, now."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Just... Don't do it again, please. Always be in my line of sight."

"Yes, _____-sama!"

"Haiba, here's your water bottle."

"Haiba, the forecast said that there might be a downpour in the afternoon. Don't forget to bring an umbrella."

"Haiba, you left your books at the gym. Here. Jeez, don't be so forgetful next time."

"Haiba, here, I bought your favorite meal. Furihata said that you forgot your lunch at home. You can't go hungry."

"Haiba, you're doing well. Your progress report shows continuous growth. I'm proud of you."

"I'm a fucking idiot." Lev said. His emerald green eyes were filled with tears. "Excuse me, I have to go."

With that, he dashed out of the bar, leaving a confused Yaku with a drunk Kuroo passed out behind him.

The former libero could only sight and take a giant gulp of beer.

"Damn right you are."

You were full on crying right now. Approximately 10 minutes before Christmas, and here you were, crying on the couch. Maika had given up on comforting you, but remained by your side as you bawled you eyes out, offering some sort of moral support or assurance that someone was there for you.

However, a few moments passed, and Maika's ears perked up. She jumped down from the couch and made her way to the front door of the apartment. She lightly scratched the door.

"M-Maika, I'm sorry. I know I'm being too loud, I'll pipe down soon." The girl blubbered, blowing into a tissue.

As if on cue, there were multiple knocks on the door.

Fuck's sake.

You didn't even care that you'd be facing whoever is on the other side of the door while looking like this. Your eyes were puffier, the bags under them more prominent. Your nose was a rosy red color, cheeks flushed and tear stains were obvious on them.

"Who the fuck-?"

As soon as you opened the door, a sudden warmth engulfed your body. The familiar fragrance you loved so much flooded your blocked nostrils.

"Le-"

"I'm sorry."

There was silence.

"I'm so sorry for everything that I said, _____. I take all of it back. I know that you love me. Your love language isn't vocal and I should have been more accepting and understanding of that. I may not know your reasons for being the way you are, but I promise you that I accept you wholly. I'm so, so fucking sorry that I left so suddenly. I love you so much. I'm never leaving you again."

Sobs racked through your body. Your form was shaking in Lev's arms. He was surprised. It's the first time he's seen you cry, and it breaks his heart knowing that he's the reason behind it.

"I'm sorry, kitten. Please don't cry anymore."

"Lev," You started, attempting to calm down, and Lev swore his heart stopped beating for a second, "I love you."

For a moment, everything stopped. They could hear the neighbors yelling "Merry Christmas!" in their own units.

"P-Pardon?"

You giggled. "I love you, Lev. I'm really sorry that it took me this long to tell you. I guess I was just scared of telling you how I really felt because... I didn't want you to think that I was cheesy or..."

Lev cut you off with a kiss. It was short and sweet. He could taste red bull and barbecue chips on your lips, and you could taste vodka on his. It was imperfect, but it was yours, and you loved it.

"I love you so much, _____. This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received."

"I love you too, Lev."

"Come on, let's get inside. I bought some takeout for us to eat." He easily lifted you up with one arm and grabbed the plastic bag of takeout with his free hand.

"Yeah, about that," You buried your face in his neck, "I'm sorry."

"We'll... Clean up tomorrow." He chuckled, looking at the messy state your living room was in. "We'll eat in our room, okay? Why don't you get cleaned up first, and I'll prepare the things we need." He placed a kiss on your cheek.

"Alright, Lev." You replied, "Sorry for causing a lot of trouble."

"Don't be sorry, malishka. We're fine now, okay? We have each other and we understand each other better now." He set you in front of the bathroom. "Now, go ahead and shower! I'll get a fresh set of clothes for you and leave them out here."

"Thank you, Lyovochka." You grinned, using Alisa's nickname for him.

"Anytime, babe." Lev turned around to go to the bedroom until,

"Hey, Lev?" You showed your head out of the bathroom door.

"Yes, _____?"

"I love you!"

The, the door was slammed shut.

"_____, you're too cute!" Lev had to use every strand of will power he had to not faint on the spot.

Who knew that his kuudere partner was such a huge softie?

Maola mewled and rubbed her head against Lev's leg.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Maika."

#lev haiba #haiba lev #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #lev haiba x reader #haiba lev x reader #lev x reader #kuudere

46 notes · View notes

frankcastiglione · 5 years ago

Photo

FINDING YOU CAN CHANGE | a first order poe dameron x reader fic

rating: m - for smut, and some thematic elements

word count: 6k

summary: Everything changes for First Order Commander Poe Dameron when he’s forced into an arranged marriage - to you.

a/n: I wanted to try something different, this is still a reader fic - just from Poe’s POV. This is a standalone fic - it’s not related to any of my other FO!Poe fics. I’m really in love w/ this story and I hope you all love it too! Feedback is much appreciated!!

Finding You Can Change

An irritated grumble threatens to escape Poe’s lips when he hears the loud banging on the door of his quarters. There’s no point in even having a door, because in 3, 2, 1, it opens with a hiss. Two Stormtroopers enter, and a First Order officer follows behind.

“Captain Dameron, you’re wanted by General Hux immediately.”

“Again?” Poe’s lips are in a tight line. His brow creased. Poe didn’t miss how the officer put emphasis on ‘captain.’ Poe was demoted today from commander to captain for ‘reckless’ flying. He’s been grounded and was told he’d been given other duties on the Starship instead of being allowed to pilot a TIE fighter.

The officer stands straight and still by Poe’s door. Poe gives him a look, and it’s apparent the officer won’t leave without Poe.

Poe huffs out his nose sharply, then stands to straighten his uniform. He tugs at the tight collar and smooths over any creases. His shiny boots click on the cold floor, begrudgingly following his new commanding officer to the general.

The Stormtroopers follow behind Poe. He raises an eyebrow in question, then chuckles to himself. They don’t trust him. Good. He likes it that way.

Poe wasn’t sure what he expected when he was to be brought to Hux, but what he sees before his eyes now is not it by any means. There’s officers and Stormtroopers all around, most of them working or standing guard. General Hux is by a large window overlooking the planet below. It’s the most gorgeous blue Poe’s ever seen. Standing next to him is a beautiful woman. You. You’re visible shaking, and Poe feels uncomfortable already.

He prefers flying, it’s easier. No emotions with flying around in a squadron. But seeing tears in your eyes, he shifts his weight on his boots. His hands behind his back clench into fists.

“Congratulations Captain Dameron,” Hux sneers. Poe wants to roll his eyes. Hux hates Poe as much as Poe hates him. Hux is the reason Poe was demoted. Poe’s ‘reckless flying’ was from flying too close to Hux’s particular window and scaring him. Poe still smiles at the thought.

“For what?” Why the hell is Hux congratulating him? “For being demoted for making you squeal?” A nearby officer snickers and Hux gives them a glare. Poe’s grin is smug.

“System 118 has agreed to our terms. A deal has been brokered. A peace offering given - pledging their allegiance to the First Order.”

“And?” Poe raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t care about this.

“She is the peace offering.” Hux points to you, and more tears fall from your eyes.

“What does that have to do with me?” Poe’s eyebrows crease in question. What is he supposed to do? Kill you?

“Meet your new wife!” Hux seems overjoyed to give Poe this news.

“Pardon?” Poe asks; at the same time, you gasp. A nearby Stormtrooper grabs your arm and shoves you towards Poe. He catches you; concern is all over his face. He can’t imagine what you’re thinking as you look at him. He’s thinking about how sad your eyes look, but also how lovely you are. Is that strange to think about? He wonders.

He’s so caught up looking at your face that he almost misses Hux happily declaring you as his bride.

“I think you’re supposed to kiss me,” you blink at him. The tears haven’t stopped falling from your eyes, and his chest feels tight. There’s an anger in the back of his neck. He doesn’t like this. There’s no way this ends with you just being his wife. What does that entail? Will you be something they use later? Is your life more than just as a bargaining chip?

“Right,” he murmurs to you and presses a quick peck to your lips. He frowns looking back up at Hux. Something is wrong with this.

“Commander!” Hux shouts, “fire at will!”

“What?” you shout and lunge forward.

“What’s going on here General?” Poe’s anger is building.

“I lied,” Hux shrugs. The nearby officers begin pushing buttons and pulling levers. In a few moments, an angry red beam hits the planet below. It pierces the surface and cracks the planet in two. The beautiful blue now red.

Screaming in horror, you fall to your knees watching your home planet fall to destruction. Poe is quick to catch you, and he presses your face into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he doesn’t know what good that does. For a moment you cry in his arms, then you pull back and hit his chest with your fists, crying all the while. Poe stands still, he lets you. You’ve lost your freedom and watched the destruction of your home in one day. He remembers losing his freedom.

“Best of wishes tonight Poe!” an officer laughs, “she’s a fighter!”

Poe almost pulls his blaster on the man in anger. Instead, he reaches for you gently. “C’mon,” he beckons. You don’t want to go with him, but you don’t have any other options.

The walk down to Poe’s quarters is long and awkward silence has Poe tugging on his collar again. His door opens with a hiss and you follow him inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Poe offers, he’s unsure of what to do. A sob escapes your lips and you run towards what you can only guess is his private refresher. The second the door closes behind you, the sobs come freely. The door does nothing to hide them from his ears. Poe stands alone in his room feeling helpless. He doesn’t want this any more than you do, but he didn’t lose his home today.

It’s such a private thing to hear someone cry, and he wishes he didn’t have to hear you. Because he can do nothing to offer any comfort. He doesn’t know how. He’s been trained for death and destruction since he was taken from his home as a child. He’s trained as a pilot his entire life, never thinking, or caring about others because he didn’t have to. Now there’s a woman, his wife, crying in his fresher and he has no idea what to do.

He stands by the door and almost knocks. His gloved hand forms a fist and he’s inches away from rapping his knuckles on the door, but he doesn’t know what to say.

Your crying seems to get louder, echoing in the small space. He knows that you know he can hear you. It hits him then that you were given to him as a punishment – but he will not punish you for this. The thought fills him with dread that you could have been given to someone else. He has no desire to hurt you. You’re not his enemy. He’s never been entirely sure who his enemy is. Adrenaline and thrill of the flight has pushed those thoughts from his mind. But8 being grounded and you brought into his life is changing everything he thought he knew.

He has to say something.

He takes a deep breath and steps closer to the door, getting ready to knock.

“Leave me alone,” your voice is muffled through the door. You heard him take a breath.

“I only wish to know your name.”

“My name?”

“They never even told me your name,” he huffs out his nose in distaste.

The door hisses open and suddenly you’re face to face with him. He looks at your appearance. Eyes puffy from crying. Cheeks stained with smudged makeup. Your dress is elegant and flattering to your figure. What a terrible wedding day.

You both look each other over. His uniform is the sleek black that matches all the rest. But you notice his eyes have something in them that the others don’t. His hair is styled nicely. Curls slicked back on his head in thick waves, then the sides of his head above his ears are shaved. It’s clean and sharp, just like the rest of him. He’s all sharp angles, except for those soft eyes and lips.

You say your name, and he repeats it.

Your next action shocks him. You start to remove your dress, but he stops you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, your wrists in his hands.

“I don’t have any choice, do I? I’d rather let it happen than you-“

“Hurt you?” he finishes your sentence. “No,” he lets go of your hands. “You don’t have to let them win.”

“But I’ve already lost everything,” you look down at your feet. “You, my husband, are all I have. I guess.”

“Here,” he steps away from you and pulls a drawer from a hidden dresser in the wall. He hands you a pair of shorts and a soft shirt. He feels your fingers touch his. Even through the leather of his gloves it sends a spark.

“Standard issue?” you smile. That’s the first smile of yours he’s seen. It’s lovely.

“It’s all I have that’s comfortable,” he replies with a smile of his own.

“Thank you,” you nod. He swears he can see a shy smile on your lips as you hold the clothes tight. He’s already feeling taken with you.

“You’re welcome,” Poe nods back.

You take a step towards the fresher, but his voice stops you.

“Have you eaten? Would you like me to bring you something?” He watches your expression for any apprehension. He can tell you’re nervous. This situation is delicate. He wants you to feel safe.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit. He nods and offers you his arm. You set down the little stack of folded clothes on his desk and take his elbow. He smiles to himself when he feels you squeeze his bicep.

It’s a strange feeling walking down the corridors of the Starship with you on his arm. You squeeze tighter every time someone passes by. In his youth, Poe would have loved knowing the fear the First Order brought. But seeing the direct result of it, and having you literally thrown into his life has him thinking differently. Your smile is so much more beautiful than your sobs of fear.

Once you reach the entryway for the common eating area, Poe places his hand on your back and gently nudges you in the doorway. Your eyes look frantic in the room full of officers. Poe’s look is stern, but his touch is gentle and protective. He directs you to a corner table and takes your hand as you sit down.

“I’ll be right back,” he makes sure you see his eyes. You nod, but he senses your nerves.

He turns away from you for a moment to get some food for you both. Turning back around, he sees a couple officers cornering you at the table.

“Hey!” Poe snaps. A snarl is on his lips as he storms over, dropping the plates with a clatter on the table. He grabs one officer by his uniform shirt and pulls him towards his face. “Leave her alone.”

“Captain Dameron!” Poe stops when he hears Hux speak his name. He sees your eyes wide with fear, and Poe turns to face Hux – his hands still holding the other officer’s uniform. “Would you like to be demoted a second time today?”

Poe looks between Hux, the officer, and you. He releases his grip on the officer, and sits down across from you at the table, ignoring those around him and digs into his food.

Hux turns with a laugh and the rest of the men follow, leaving you alone with Poe at the table. It’s only then you feel like eating.

“Demoted?” you ask, attempting to make conversation.

“He hates me,” Poe smiles fondly. “I was a pilot. I flew too close to his window. Scared him.” He can’t help but smile retelling the story. “I heard he squealed.”

Laughter bubbles up from your lips and you both laugh at the thought of Hux getting scared.

“He demoted you for that? Seems a little harsh.”

“He said something about respecting my superior officer, but I wasn’t listening.”

Another smile breaks out on his face as you continue to laugh. Poe feels a pride in getting you to laugh so much after such a terrible day.

Once you’ve finished your meals, Poe offers you his arm again and proudly leads you through eating area. The walk back to his quarters seems less long, and lighter. You make light chit chat all the way to his room. It carries on, only stopping when you grab the clothes, he gave you and step into the fresher.

When the door is closed behind you, he takes this opportunity to change out of his uniform. He’s glad to be rid of the collar itching his throat. He moves about his room as normal, hanging up his uniform and pulling on a pair of sleep pants and a comfortable shirt. When he passes by the refresher door, he gets a whiff of your perfume hanging in the air. He can hear you crying softly in the refresher, obviously hoping the water would mask the sound of your broken heart. But he hears it all the same.

This hurts him, even though he brought a smile to your face and had you laughing – the pain of loss still lingers in your mind.

He decides to busy himself now with making a bed for himself. He has an extra blanket to sleep on. The ship runs cold most of the time, but Poe finds himself hot at night. He’ll be fine to sleep on this folded up blanket on the floor. He will give you his bed.

He hears the fresher door open, and he stands from where he was kneeling on the floor by his makeshift bed. You stand awkwardly, hair wet and your dressed draped over your arm.

“Here,” he walks towards you. “I’ll take that.” As he approaches you, his eyes can’t help but see your nipples through the shirt he gave you. When you cross your arms over your chest, he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He ducks his head and takes the dress to hang it up in his closet.

After he hangs it up, he turns to see you start to lay down on the blanket laid out on the floor.

“No, you can take the bed.”

“Are you sure?” you act surprised by his gesture. He nods jutting his chin out. He’s sure. You don’t ask any more questions. He watches you climb under the covers and lay down with a sigh.

“I don’t want this as much as you do,” he offers as he lays down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this would happen.”

“What did you expect joining the First Order?”

“It wasn’t my choice.”

“You could have left.”

“I don’t get that choice. You can’t leave.” He sighs and says “OFF.” The bright room is suddenly dark, and he hears you gasp softly. He rolls over trying to ignore your cries, but it’s not working.

Eventually, exhaustion and grief catch up with you. He can tell when you’re asleep because your breathing evens out. Laying there in the darkness, he tries to imagine what life the two of you will even lead now. What will your purpose be for him?

Poe must have fallen asleep at some point because he wakes up in the middle of the night to hear you scream.

“ON.” Poe says quickly and scrambles to get up to see what’s wrong. His eyes adjust quickly, but yours don’t and you’re blinking rapidly. You’re sitting upright in the bed, more tears welling up in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” Poe asks.

“Nightmare,” is all you can manage to say. All you could see was your home crack in to pieces. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Poe sits back down on his bed.

“Waking you.”

He shrugs and lays back down. “Off.”

“Wait, on.”

When the light doesn’t turn on, Poe laughs.

“On,” he says, and the lights turn on. He sits up, still laughing.

“What?” you smile too, a little embarrassed.

“It’s trained to my voice,” he says. “But I can program yours in too if you’d like. What did you want?”

“Oh.” You’re visibly flustered, and Poe is delighted in this. It means you’re feeling comfortable around him, even though you’re flustered. That’s better than angry by a mile. “The floor looks terribly uncomfortable.”

“It is, actually.” Poe laughs, raking his hands through his curls. He needs more gel in his hair because the curls aren’t slicked back anymore but are resting on his forehead.

“Would you-“

“Join you?” Poe smiles softly. He knows why you want him up there. He tosses his pillow up and climbs under the covers with you. “OFF.”

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says quietly. His shoulder is touching yours, and he’s about to roll over when you suddenly reach for him. Fumbling in the dark, your hand brushes against his crotch, and he sits up grabbing your hand. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” you pull your hand away and roll away from him. “You were being so nice I-“

“You don’t have to,” he tells you. Voices whispered in the dark offer little comfort, but his is a comfort to you somehow.

“I just thought, since you’re my husband now...”

Poe snickers, “what a day huh?” He laughs, but you’re not laughing. Your voice sounds small when you speak again.

“I understand if you don’t want me. You probably have someone else.”

“It’s quite the opposite in fact,” he admits. He’s taken many lovers in his life, but there is no one else for him. And he is quite taken with you. “In fact, your touch has turned me on.”

With the command from his voice, the lights turn on, causing you to giggle.

“OFF.” He says immediately, getting another laugh from you. “So, you’re not scared of me?”

“No,” you reply. “I’m scared of them, not you.”

He feels your body jump under his hand when he touches your arm. He rolls you over on your back. Your eyes have adjusted, and you can barely make out each other’s faces, but it’s enough.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he grins. “But if you don’t want this – then no harm done. You weren’t expecting this.”

“Actually, I was.”

“How?” Poe sits up. “On.”

In the light, you sit up too, facing him.

“I knew I was going to be a peace offering for my home. It was not my choice, but I knew for some time. I was frightened, but then they sent me to you. And you’ve been nothing but kind. And-“

“And what?”

“Say ‘off,’” you smile, flustered again.

“Oh, no. You’re gonna say it,” Poe quirks up a brow and waits. He holds your gaze. He doesn’t mind staring at your face. He watches you wriggle uncomfortably. Taking a chance, he leans forward, his lips millimeters for yours. “Say it.”

“You’re gorgeous,” you whisper.

He chuckles darkly.

“Off.”

Then his lips are on you. He’s a little rough, but his hands are gently pushing you back down on the bed. His teeth clack against yours, and he growls when your fingers weave through his curls. His tongue slips into your mouth and you gasp a little.

“Poe,” you keep gasping his name through hot kisses, “Poe, wait!” You’re laughing but he can hear the skittish tone in your voice. “I’ve never done this,” you say really fast. As if that will make it easier to admit.

Poe sighs in the dark, you can’t see his expression. He can’t see yours. That wild pilot side of him is eager, he’s never been anyone’s first before. But this new side of him that’s embracing the emotions, decides it’s better for everyone to go easy on you.

“Nice and slow,” Poe says, kissing your lips again. It’s been so long since he’s enjoyed the taste of another. His hands slide under your shirt and you help him pull it off. In the dark, he finds your breasts and cups them greedily. Your gasp is sharp and is music to his ears. He squeezes them and his thumbs flick over your nipples. “Baby, you got nice tits,” he purrs in your ear.

Your head falls back on the pillow when his lips latch on a nipple.

“Poe,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?” he hums.

“What do I do?” your voice is sheepish. Your body is responding, and he can tell you’re into this. But it’s driving him wild that you’re shy.

“Put your hands anywhere you want, baby. Pull on my hair.”

You give his curls a slight tug, and he moans. You do it again, pulling that groan from his lips.

“Atta girl. You’re catching on quick.”

He takes this opportunity to take off his shirt. He scoots down on the bed and reaches for the hem of the shorts he gave you.

“Is this ok?” he asks tugging a little.

“Yes.”

As soon as the confirmation leaves you lips, he pulls them down and off. He chuckles again when your legs clamp together.

“Baby, if you want me in there you gotta open up.” He rests his hands on your thighs, and he’s dizzied with his own arousal. You feel so good in his hands. He’s already decided he wants to give you everything.

He feels when the tension in your legs fade, and he takes that as his cue to part your thighs for him.

“Good girl,” he licks his lips and sucks with a loud smack. You jump when you feel a fingertip touch your sex. “Easy,” he coos. “Gotta get you warmed up for me.” His thumb begins working circles on your sex, and he slides a finger then two into your heat. He coaxes you through the first orgasm, then he adds another finger. Your whines only encourage him.

When he deems you ready for him, he tugs off his pants and positions himself on top of you.

He wears a ring around his neck on a chain, and it touches your chest and you gasp in surprise.

“What’s that?”

“Oh,” he stops, taking the necklace off. “I’ve had it since I can remember. I think it was my mother’s or something. I suppose you should wear it now.”

“Why?” you whisper.

“You’re my wife.” He’s surprised at himself for saying it, but he’s accepted it. He puts the ring on your finger. Your fingers fumble together in the dark. He holds that hand when he pushes himself inside you.

He pauses when you wince, giving you a moment. You surprise him then with a sudden kiss and roll your hips under him. He laughs, feeling your eagerness grow as you become more and more at ease with this whole situation, and him.

His hips move fast and hard. You’re seeing stars and you feel a tight coil in your belly like you’ve never felt before and he’s already given you an amazing orgasm.

“I’m gonna spoil you baby, give you everything you want.” He purrs in your ear, biting it. His hands squeeze your breasts.

“Harder,” you groan. He obliges. His grin could split his face.

He feels you tighten around him, and your release hits you both hard. It triggers his own and he spills himself into you. Your groans mix together with heated kisses.

“Beautiful,” Poe hums kissing you before he rolls off you.

“You can’t even see me,” you giggle.

“Oh yeah? On.”

You shriek and jump under the covers with a laugh. He shoves his hands underneath to tickle your sides. When the covers fall, exposing you fully to him in the light, he smiles.

“I got damn lucky.”

“So did I,” you smile and lean forward to kiss him. Your fingers tug on his curls a little more and he closes his eyes happily. He gives you another quick peck then hops off the bed and disappears into the fresher.

He returns with a damp rag to clean the sticky between your thighs. Maybe it’s the loss and trauma from today, or maybe it’s the intimacy in his touch, but tears fall from your eyes once more. Only this time you don’t fight them or try to hide them from him. This time his thumb gently reaches up your dry your tears.

“I’m sorry,” Poe says again, laying down beside you on his back. Timidly, you curl up next to him. With a sure arm, he guides you to rest your head on his chest, and he holds you tight. “Off.”

He doesn’t know how else to apologize for what’s happened today, but he can only hope that he’s brought you some comfort with intimacy. If anything, it’ll help you sleep.

For the second time that night Poe finds himself laying awake, hearing you drift off to sleep. This second time is much better. He didn’t realize how empty his bed felt before.

He sleeps hard.

He almost forgot what happened the day before. When he wakes up next to you, it startles him for a moment. But when he sees your sleeping face, he smiles softly.

The peaceful moment is rudely interrupted when Poe’s door opens, and he hears Hux’s voice shout “ON!”

When the lights come on, Poe immediately covers your body with his, pulling the sheets up around you both. You gasp at being woken up so abruptly, and Poe gives you a look of apology.

“Can this wait?” Poe’s voice rises in anger. You’re embarrassed and he’s angry, you’ve had enough stress for a dozen lifetimes.

“So, you didn’t waste any time then,” Hux sneers. Poe turns his head slightly, seeing Hux with two officers and 6 Stormtroopers. He smirks to himself. They really don’t trust him.

“Would you mind giving me and my wife some privacy?”

“I won’t be actually,” Hux tuts. “There’s been a change of plans.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t know what’s going on,” Poe whispers you an apology, your eyes are wild with fear.

“Sweetheart?” Hux continues to laugh. “He’s become attached,” Hux looks to the officers for a supportive laugh. They reply in tight smiles, no one thinks this is funny but Hux. “Then this will become more of a shock.”

“What are you talking about?” Poe asks. He can feel his blood pressure rising.

“There’s been a change of plans, and I’d like the peace offering back.”

The anger in Poe’s chest blooms and he grits his teeth. He blows hot air out his nose and jumps out of the bed, much to the shock of everyone in the room.

Poe doesn’t care that he’s naked either, his anger has him seeing red. You pull the sheets up to your nose and delight in the shock all over Hux’s face as Poe grabs him by the collar. The Stormtroopers are unsure of what to do – they stand frozen in shock. The other two officers are stifling laughs at Hux’s expense.

“If you dare to touch one hair on her head,” Poe snarls. His grip tight on Hux’s collar.

“You’ll what?” Hux challenges back through his surprise. “Seize her!” Hux orders the Stormtroopers.

“Don’t!” Poe yells and leans back, and with full force he punches Hux in the nose. Hux leans forward yelling in pain, grabbing his already bleeding nose. Poe takes this as his chance to run behind his desk, he yells “OFF!” and you hear blaster fire – and see six red bolts zap across the room.

When the blaster fire stops, the smell of smoke is thick in the air. Hux yells out “ON!”

All six Stormtroopers lay dead on the floor. The two officers stand in amazement at what they’ve just seen. Slowly they walk backwards through the doorway, their footsteps running down the corridor can be heard echoing.

You’d be scared of Hux in this moment, but this situation is humorous. His face is red with anger and his own blood pouring from his nose. Poe stands behind his desk, his eyes full of rage. You’re not scared of Poe – but between the two men, Poe’s expression is more terrifying. Poe looks at you, and he sees no fear in your eyes, which is all that matters. He also sees your eyes flick down to look at his ass, which gives him a little pride.

Hux makes a threat, then trips over a dead Stormtrooper on his way out the door.

The moment the door closes, Poe’s shoulders drop, and the blaster falls from his hand with a loud clatter. His hands come to rest on his desk, and he sighs, you can see him trembling from the bed. Wrapping the sheet around yourself, you gingerly walk towards him – putting a hand on his shoulder. He tenses at first, then relaxes at your touch when he sees your face.

“We have to leave,” he tells you, looking at his knuckles, they’re bruising. “Now. I have no idea where we’ll go, but I have to get you out of here.”

“I know a place,” you tell him. “We’ll need a ship.”

He nods, starting to get dressed in his uniform.

“Get dressed,” he tells you, tossing you your dress. “We can’t waste any time”

“Poe,” you reach for him, your hand coming to rest on his bicep. “Thank you.” He holds your gaze for a beat, nods, then turns towards his closet to get his uniform shirt and coat. He feels your gaze hold, and you reach for his bruised hand. Your thumb softly touches his knuckles. “You risked your life for me.”

He pulls his hand from your grasp and cups your cheek, “we need to go, sweetheart.” He leans forward to brush his lips on your forehead. “Hux’s broken nose gave us some time, but we don’t have much.”

You take the dress and Poe tries not to let his eyes linger – but he’s captivated by your beauty. Seeing you standing naked in his room, that shy look in your eyes as you try to dress quickly.

“Can you?” you turn your back to him, signaling you need him to fasten some clasps in the back.

“You are beautiful, you know,” Poe offers quietly. His hands squeeze your hips a little in comfort. “Ready?”

You nod, and he holsters his blaster. He shoves a large amount of credits in his pockets from drawers, then you’re out the door.

You hold your skirts in one hand, allowing you to walk quickly. Poe’s hand is on your back, his other hand ready on his blaster.

He sneaks you both into the main ship’s hangar. A squad of Stormtroopers is following closely behind. He manages to kill a couple of them before directing you to his TIE fighter. Blaster rounds hit the ship, and Poe swears under his breathe trying to get the ship to come to life.

“Coordinates?” he looks to you and you give them; he punches them in quickly and makes the jump to lightspeed.

He sighs loudly and leans back in the pilot seat.

“Where are we going?” Poe asks once he catches his breath. He looks on the screen and sees the coordinates location.

“The Resistance base.”

“You’re Resistance?” Poe’s eyebrows raise, and he laughs in surprise.

“You are too now,” you tell him. “When we get close, I’ll open a channel, so they won’t shoot us out of the sky.”

Poe nods. He’s glad he’s left the First Order, but a thought haunts him now. What if, you want nothing to do with him after this? He’s only known you for a day, but you’ve changed the entire course of his life.

“Look,” he starts, and you look up at him. Your eyes are so beautiful, if you really do turn him away, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “I understand if when we get on base, if – if you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“Who said anything about that?” you ask him, reaching for his hand. “You’re my husband.” You take off his glove, checking on his bruised knuckles. “I owe you my life.”

“I don’t want you to stay because you feel you owe me,” he starts to pull his hand away, but you won’t let him pull away.

“Well maybe I have a crush,” you avoid his gaze and start to trace the veins on the back of his hand. “On a certain commander who punches First Order Generals while naked.” Your eyes look up at him, and he sees the humor in your eyes, and the soft grin on your cheeks.

“It was only because I was naked right?” he deadpans, getting you to laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t see you look at my ass sweetheart,” he leans forward, lips near yours. He growls playfully and nips at your bottom lip. “Maybe I have a crush too on a beautiful woman who lost everything but still shows a tremendous strength.”

His heart his hammering in his chest, and he wonders if you feel the same.

“And she makes these cute little noises when I touch her tits,” his eyes flick up to yours, the emotion on your face goes from soft to a flustered grin.

You shake your head and lean in to kiss his lips.

“You’re wrong about one thing though,” you comb your fingers through his wild curls. No time for gel this morning.

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t lose everything.” He quirks a brow. “I got you.”

He blinks, then smiles kissing you again. “You’re wrong about one thing too,” he teases.

“Oh?”

“You called me commander. It’s captain remember?”

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” you laugh, “but I didn’t think we were listening to anything Hux said.”

A beeping alerts Poe that you’re near the system.

“You’re up,” he tells you. The ship drops out of lightspeed and a green planet comes into view. He watches you with silent pride as you open a channel to the base below requesting permission to land.

Poe feels uneasy, his entire life he’s been a part of the First Order. He’s stepping into uncharted territory.

“C’mon,” you tell him and offer your hand. He takes it and follows you off the ship. A curious crowd of rebels have gathered, they’re excited to see a TIE fighter up close. And many that have gathered are friends of yours.

Poe hears whispers as people walk by, and he holds your hand tighter.

The both of you are greeted then by an older woman, she has kind eyes. Poe observes her take your hands in hers and give her a gentle look. He can’t place it, but he knows she must have heard what happened with your home yesterday. You hug this woman, and Poe can barely make out what she says to you in your ear, something about how “she’s been where you are.”

He waits patiently for the introduction to be made, and his heart jerks in his chest when he hears you call him your husband.

“It’s a long story,” you laugh, but you pat his arm and lean up to kiss his cheek. “The First Order has ruined his life too, and he’s got intel. I trust this man with my life.”

Never once does it cross Poe’s mind to reveal the location of this base to the First Order, in fact it now gives him a great joy that he knows this big secret and Hux doesn’t. Now he knows why Hux must have wanted you this morning. The fact that you trust him so deeply with this, touches his heart.

“Wait, you’re Commander Poe Dameron?” someone runs up. There’s a burst of laughter and at first Poe frowns to be the center of attention. “Were you the one that broke Hux’s nose? While naked??”

Poe looks at you, and you both share a laugh.

“Word travels fast,” Poe feels smug. Hux is probably seething with rage even more now that he’s figured out Poe and gotten away, and you with him.

Poe looks around this place, sees all the smiling faces. He’s never seen so much happiness in his life. He watches you walk away with General Organa and he feels his heart jump again. He thinks he might love you, and when you turn around to give him a smile, he thinks you might love him too.

“Tell us the story!” another voice pipes up. Poe looks at all their faces and starts to smile himself. He opens his mouth to speak when he stops, noticing all their uniforms aren’t tight around the neck. Oh yes, he’s going to love it here.

xxx

tagging: @pascalispedro, @damndamer0n, @tintinwrites, @huliabitch, @himbopoes, @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @poeticandors, @darksideofclarke, @thesefleshfailures, @zeldasayer, @mrpascals, @pascalplease, @propertyofpoeandbucky, @writefightandflightclub, @mandoplease, @woakiees

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #first order poe dameron #fo!poe #mine #my writing #my gifs #IM SO EXCITED ABOUT THISSSSS

478 notes · View notes

missinghan · 5 years ago

Text

young & beautiful ⤖ lee felix

❖ genre : zombie apocalypse!au; punk! au

❖ word count : 13,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language, mentions of alcohol & violence

❖ summary : you’ve always thought your soulmate was an idiot to not be there sooner but eventually, everything connects when it started with Lee Felix holding your best friend at gunpoint.

one.

Jisung puffs his cheeks out and stares at his own reflection on the glass table. The bartender quickly comes back, pushing a tequila sunrise towards his direction. The boy takes an awful amount of time to study how the yellow, almost orange liquid bleeds into a deep red effortlessly.

He shakes his bang away furiously, calling out for the bartender. “Uhm, I just ordered a Coke. Not this.”

“Have a drink kid, it’s on me.”

He pushes the glass away. “No thanks.”

“What kind of adult doesn’t drink alcohol in desperate times?”

“Then what kind of bartender doesn’t run for his life when ravenous freaks are lurking the streets?”

The bartender tips his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. “Listen, kid. It’s either beating the shit out of someone or getting wasted to keep the little amount of sanity left on your mind. So I’m staying here for them alcoholics. Business is running low, not taking any risks.” He wipes his hand onto his white apron, throwing him a playful wink. “Call me if you need anything.”

Jisung beams innocently. “Do you have a pencil? And paper too?”

“Jisung you can’t be serious, where are you?”

Minutes later, he’s starting to regret the questionable-looking sketch of a squirrel on the piece of paper that the bartender gave him. Instead, he presses the tip of the pencil harder onto the surface until it snaps in half, leaving the sharp wooden edges sticking out. He can kill the bartender with this if he decides to spike his drink, Jisung figures. He hesitantly brings the rim of the glass to his lips and takes the smallest sip possible. The burning sensation goes down his throat in matters of seconds. His entire windpipe feels like it’s on fire.

“Hey, I need some water..” He chokes out as someone enters the bar.

The bartender averts his gaze onto the new customer. “Cool, what about you?”

The unfamiliar figure sits beside him, murmuring. “I’m not here for the drinks, but him.”

The bartender looks confused. “A water it is then?”

Jisung’s head starts spinning slightly, dizziness bubbling up inside his chest. He hiccups with the pencil held between his fingers. Something’s wrong with this man. He needs to get out of here, now. “Sorry, I don’t feel too well. I think I’ll get back to—“ Just when he slips himself off the stool, two other men appear out of nowhere and block his way as the first one firmly holds him in place by his shoulders. Jisung immediately turns to the bartender, signaling him to run with his eyes. And the bartender does as he insists.

One of the thugs growls gruffly, making Jisung drop the black duffle bag in his hand. “You’re gonna have to pay for what you did, boy.”

“Hi, I’m Jisung. Sup guys?”

“Did you just say ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’?”

Jisung grimaces as you hiss into the earpiece, the sound screeching against his eardrums. In which, it doesn't really help to cool the situation down. He drops onto his knees when a guy kicks him in the shin, face scrunching up in pain. One of the guys surrounded him hides behind a face mask, whipping out a dagger concealed in his sleeve. With a cheerful voice, “There’s nothing to be all grabby and stabby about.” Jisung gulps. He’d be lying if he said that he’s not about to piss his pants.

“Uhm, do you like the color red?”

The one who’s holding him down snaps, pulling his collar backward. “Shut it, twig.” He elbows him at the back of his head, earning a low, painful grunt.

Jisung asks, as light as a feather, he’s trying too hard to form a proper sentence at this point. “What about coding? Do you like coding? You guys look pretty smart, you must be into coding.”

“Jisung, the hell-- CODE RED, JEONGIN, CODE RED! JISUNG’S IN TROUBLE!”

He sighs in relief when you finally understand, limbs growing wobbly.

“Han, get the hell out of there! I swear--”

Your words get cut off when a goon peels the earpiece away harshly, examining the device with an amused smirk. “Look at this toy, it might be pretty expensive.” Then, he looks at his gang member and cocks a brow. “Why don’t we just take him with us? He’ll lead us right back to their hiding spot.” His team quickly nod their heads in agreement, staring down at the blond-haired boy with mischievous eyes.

With his head dangled low, Jisung’s limbs are giving in but the grip on the pencil never once loosens. “Okay..” He slowly looks up and shoots them a look, chuckling darkly. “This is gonna be fun.” In a split second, the sharp end of the pencil goes straight into the goon’s stomach, making him stagger backward and groan aloud in agony. Although Jisung’s frame is quite small compared to what a standard fighter needs to be, he never fails to take advantage of that. If he’s smaller, he’s gonna be faster than them.

He sweeps a leg across the ground, one of the men falls onto his head, easily slipping into a good sleep until the zombies come in and take care of his unconscious body. Jisung catches the earpiece when it falls out of the goon’s hand. “Thanks, I’m gonna need my toy back.” Before he can slip the device on again, an arm sweeps under his feet and he lands right onto his bottom. “Using fire against fire. Smartass.” He mutters and clumsily props himself up from facepalming himself onto a pool of fresh blood that’s slowly seeping through the tiled floor.

The only conscious goon smirks down at him. “I don’t like coding. But I do like the color red.” When Jisung flutters his eyes upwards, he’s met with a shiny metal blade, inevitable to drive down, straight into his chest, right through his heart. He automatically squeezes his eyes shut as an attempt to brace himself for the contact.

“Hey asshole,” His eyes shoot open at the more than familiar voice.

two.

You’re so screwed. You’re all fucking screwed.

You’re not screwed because you completely forgot that you have four finals in a row next week. You’re not screwed because you broke your mom’s favorite mug or accidentally had a scratch on your dad’s car. Heck, you wish they could beat you with a wooden spoon right now. If only they’re still alive. You’d have your parents put you in timeout and fail four subjects all at once just so that everything can be normal again.

In movies, particularly ‘Zombieland’ or ‘The Walking Dead’, humans are being controlled by a virus that turns you into a walking corpse that feeds off humans’ flesh. But, we naturally do have plenty of brain disorders that can do just that. However, none of those things were contagious in the first place. Until Mad Cow Disease came along. Who would have thought? Cows are simply being part of the food chain then an entire square block, forty bedrooms, and nineteen bathrooms; everyone in your neighborhood went apeshit after the steak they had for dinner.

It’s a miracle how you even managed to run away without being bit by your own parents, who are now brainless serial killers. The idea of eating someone’s organs doesn’t seem too far-fetched anymore when you know that you’re only one brain chemical away from turning to a psychotic cannibal. That’s not even the irony of the whole situation. Irony, is how ready your current generation is for the end of the world, but not exams.

Hence, you’re gonna throw a birthday party for one of your best friends like nothing’s ever happened. Except for the fact that you’ll have to lure him out of the sanctuary while the others are working on the surprise.

Now you’re sitting in an abandoned bar, attempting to cheer your friend up with a shot of whiskey. You’ve never really liked the idea of being inside a bar before. Drowning yourself in alcohol and letting the night snatch your consciousness away as you sway your body along with bad EDM, going deaf with laughter and music banging against your eardrums? Not ideal. But now, it’s all empty. The neon lights are hanging by a single cable, wallpapers chipping off with discolorations soaking through the wall. The once infamous bar where students used to get wasted every weekend is now dead. Both literally and metaphorically. You’re not complaining anyway.

“Hey Jeongin,” you speak up lowly. “Have you ever hit a girl before?” You run your tongue over the cut right on your bottom lip, tasting the coppery blood in boredom.

Jeongin stares blankly at the glass of whiskey that you just offered him, studying the yellowish component closely. “No? Why would I?” He looks up and almost freezes to death with the look that you’re throwing his way. He can’t tell whether you’re mad or not because you’re that type of person who doesn’t necessarily need to go all furious or mad to scare the shit out of someone.

“No? Oh, don’t mind me,” you shake your head, low chuckles vibrating through your chest capacity. “I was just gonna ask you how it feels. You know, to kick someone in the gut or punch them in the face when you know they’re clearly not your size.” You sigh and prop your head onto your hand, eyes slightly heavy from the alcohol kick. It’s been a while since you’ve messed with these things. “Right, sorry. Not my point. My point is: stop being a big baby and get out there, talk it out with Jisung you little shit!”

The boy in front of you quickly looks away when you stare him dead in the eye. He swallows heavily, picking at the ripped part of his jeans. “I’m not gonna talk it out with him. That was stupid, irresponsible and reckless. He could have just let it be and not have his jaw broken. He was supposed to sneak in, get out, and act like nothing’s ever happened. Instead, he got caught at a bar, waved at them and even said ‘Hi, I’m Jisung’. He didn’t even get anything but got you in danger! Look at you! Minho would kill us if he saw you with a thousand arrow wounds like this!” He throws his hands upwards and cries out. “I swear to God, I’d never sign up to save his ass, ever, again. I swear—“

You clear your throat, wordlessly dropping a black duffel bag onto the counter with a loud thud. Jeongin’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as his hands automatically unzip the bag, revealing an awful amount of weapons: shotguns, rifles, knives, crowbars, etc. Heck, even some food. God, Jeongin can’t even remember the last time he’s had a proper meal. He subconsciously runs his hand along the matte-finished surface of a firearm, a retort lingering on the tip of his tongue. “Wow,” he utters. “He really— he got them.”

“He did.” You cock a brow, leaning forward and zip the bag up again. “And tell you what, even if you’re not gonna be there when Jisung makes a bad decision again, I will. Because you know damn well that there’s nothing in this world that he wouldn’t hesitate to do as long as your little junkie ass is safe.”

“HEY, WE CAN TALK THIS OUT, CHILL—“

“I said hands up! DROP THE GUN!”

“Chan, DON’T DO IT!”

You and Jeongin quickly collect yourselves, scrambling out of the bar. When the door swings wide open, you’re met with Jisung on his knees, hands behind his head, his Benelli M4 abandoned by a water bottle near the entrance. Meanwhile, there are two other guys who seem like they’re talking amongst themselves as they hold your best friend at gunpoint. Your fingers hover over the pistol in your back pocket, mentally debating if you should engage or not.

The more you’re lost into your own thoughts, the more you find yourself staring at the pink-haired boys standing beside the brunette one, who’s having a handgun, pointing right at Jisung. The freckled boy has you drawn into him like instant gravity because suddenly, it feels like the world stops spinning when he looks up and accidentally meets your eyes. That’s when you take a closer look at his features. Perfect dark eyebrows, bright beady eyes, and prominent Cupid’s bow. His freckles are what throw you off, making it possible to look away because they’re like embers of disintegrated supernovas, scattered across the universe for eternities.

“Everyone calm down!” You snap out of it and break eye contact. As much as you’d love to stare at the freckled cutie all day, you’re gonna cut him in his sleep if he dares to put a finger on Jisung. “Lay off my friend. Now.” You declare and receive attention from the brunette as he tells you off with his eyes.

The guy who you assume is called, Chan jerks his head towards Jisung. “Tell your friend that it’d be nice if he could give it back.”

“Give what back?” You turn to Jisung. “Han, we’ve talked about this. We don’t steal from anyone, besides street gangs.” You tell him firmly, motioning for him to hand over whatever the fuck of a thing that those two strangers need because him getting killed for something as childish as a slice of cheesecake is gonna drive you nuts.

Jisung opens up his left palm and shows you a silver wedding band, smiling awkwardly as you hold yourself back from decking him in the face. “Look, I was just looking around and I found this thing, and I got curious then they just came back and deadass threatened me with their guns!” He adds in. “I don’t know what’s the big deal with this ring anyway. Looks like someone bought it on eBay.”

“Say that again, I dare you.” Chan tightens his grip on the gun and clicks in a bullet. As soon as you hear the bullet being locked in to the chamber, your hand automatically flies to your back pocket and pulls out your pistol. You directly aim at his head, finger trembling over the trigger when you switch off the safety catch. “Give-it-back,” Chan says through gritted teeth.

“Jisung..” You warn him.

Jisung protests. “Like hell I would.”

“I never miss, just throwing that out there,” Chan says indifferently

“I SAID PUT THE GUN DOWN.”

“ENOUGH!” Jeongin snaps, catching all of you off guard. “We are surrounded by mindless cannibals over here! We all went through it, we all were there when our family turned into those monsters, we all had those times where we had no place to go, no food to eat, no friends to be there for us. Don’t we have enough problems? For fuck’s sake look at us! Is pointing guns and yelling at each other gonna bring the good days back? So would you guys just stop it? We’re a bunch idiots trying to kill each other when the end is fucking near! Can’t we just be friends and play some dumbass games like ‘20 Questions’ like decent human beings while we’re driving them back to the safehouse ?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment there, your muscles relaxing and giving up on the gun. Jeongin gives Chan a Look, chest heaving up and down in pure furiosity. Sometimes the idea of surviving does mess with your mind, forgetting that people are still people. They’re just like you. They’ve gone through some pretty bad shits too.

Chan retrieves his weapon, sighing. “Sorry, we really mean no harm. It’s just that we need it back.” He scratches his neck sheepishly as two dimples are fully on display. He’s not so scary when he smiles after all.

“I’m gonna have to confiscate that for the time being.” You snatch the piece of jewelry from Jisung’s hand. “We’ll talk about this when you guys are back at our base.”

“But—“

“Chan, let her. It’s fine.” The freckled boy interrupts him.

You look at him and subconsciously smile. “Oh? I’m sorry, does this belong to you? Aren’t you scared that I’m gonna throw this pretty little thing away later?”

He replies with mild interest. “I don’t think you’d wanna do that, you could have just kept it to yourself.”

“No, Charming. It’s not my style.” You voice as you stare down at the ring, studying every little detail carefully. The silver band is exquisite with a sterling double knot, adding a unique touch to the elegant simplicity of the ring. You think you’re already falling in love, but are you really gonna tell him that? Most definitely not. “Yep, not my style. And I’ll throw it away someday, that’s for threatening my friend.”

He makes a face and takes a few steps towards you. “I have a name.”

“Don’t care. ‘Charming’ suits you pretty well.”

“It’s Felix. You’re welcome.” He grins, offering you a hand. You decide to take it, kind of taken aback when knowing that his hand is a lot smaller compared to the average guys’. “And I wouldn’t worry about that, you won’t be going home with it anyway. ‘Cause I’ll always find you, always.” He squeezes your hand a little bit too tight for your liking, making you flinch.

Little did you know, behind his back, Felix’s counting down from one two three with his fingers, Chan watching him closely with his gun ready.

Three.

Two.

One.

Jisung quickly notices and reaches out to you. “Y/N!” And one single shotgun rings through the area.

three.

On the outskirts of the once stellar city, lies a warehouse in a not so stellar neighborhood. Dead leaves are falling onto the ground, scraping against the concrete surface, and sending chills down people’s spine. It’s like they’re not even trying to grow properly even when it’s not halfway through spring yet. The eerie atmosphere is just another reason for people to not wander around for too long, as if they’d have the gut to come there in the first place. But it’s still a zombie apocalypse, there are worse things that could happen either way.

You’d be surprised at what people can do when they’re dangling off the fingertips of Death.

People would never guess what’s hidden behind the crooked door. A living room fully equipped with an outdated couch and broken TV, a kitchen with everything but a fridge. Further into the safe house is a bedroom big enough for ten people to fit in, a storage room full of firearms and weapons. Last but not least, security cameras and monitors are set up all around the base, to be more secure. No zombies in this household. It took you and the guys forever to collect enough materials. The only thing that you’re constantly running low on is food.

And turns out Jisung calling your name wasn't the last thing you’d heard.

“Ugh, Minho, get me water,” You groan loudly before wagging your hand around like a madwoman. Once you feel the cool metal surface on the nightstand, you quickly check your own reflection. Needless to say, you’re horrified at what you saw. Absolutely terrifying, yes. Hair falling onto your face, tiny scratches scattered across your cheekbones as they leave an itchy sensation of your skin. Fortunately, the cut on your lips is already cleaned, and your bruises are starting to fade. But what sucks is the constant banging effect on your temple, an imminent pain that’s threatening to swallow you whole.

Yeah, this is why you never drink.

“Minho, water..” Your whimper grows smaller and smaller towards the end as your hand gives up on holding onto your phone. “Is this what whiskey does to the human body?” You smack your lips together as the bitter taste seeps through your taste buds more deeply, choking on the alcohol smell in your own throat.

Minho takes long strides into the bedroom with a bowl of piping hot soup. “Whiskey contains almost no sugar, can reduce blood clots, decreases your chances of getting a heart attack, even a stroke, fights cancerous cells and..” He pauses before wiggling his eyebrows. “Helps you perform better in bed.” He chuckles when you bury your face under your blanket, cheeks tinted pink. He will never not get you with his less than appropriate comments.

“You’re gross.”

Minho smirks. “Low blow.” He cranes his neck tiredly, lips curling upwards into a small smile. “You’re quite lucky. Whoever was trying to kill you missed.”

Your brows automatically knit together as you try to gather the small pieces of memories your brain can muster. Everything that happened yesterday seems too cloudy for you to comprehend, but you could never forget the moment Chan’s bullet missed you by a strand of hair, piercing straight into the plexiglass window right behind you to catch you off guard. Next thing you know, Felix kicked the back of your knees, having you land on buckling ankles.

You tell Minho sternly. “If he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have come back in one piece.” You hold in a breath, in disbelief of your own words. “He spared my life, believe it or not.” Chan let you go, but why would he? You did piss him and his friend off intentionally because you never know what you’re getting yourself into.

Minho figures you might have hit your head somewhere, so he places your food on the nightstand and scoffs. “Eat up, you’re talking a shit ton for someone who almost died.”

“Where’s Han?” You gladly receive the bowl of soup with two hands, mouth watering slightly since you haven’t eaten since yesterday.

As if on cue, you can hear Jisung shrieking from downstairs. “NO NO NO! DON’T SHOOT ME WITH MY OWN GUN!”

You and Minho exchange a look before rushing outside, dashing towards the living room. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.” The commotion inside has your jaw dropped to the floor. Again, Jisung is held at gunpoint for the fourth time of the week, you’re quite surprised that his head hasn’t been blown into bits yet. With the gun pressed against his temple, beside him is the freckled boy from yesterday. Felix, if you’re not mistaken. Chan’s here too, neither of them is looking too happy. If Hyunjin was here seeing two strangers try to threaten his best friend, he’d definitely go apeshit.

“Woah woah, what’s the problem here?” Your brother, Woojin comes out from the kitchen with wide eyes and two glasses of water in his hands. “Lix, put the gun down.” He tells the younger boy firmly, but Felix doesn’t even move an inch.

He cocks his head towards Jisung, a scowl adorning his soft features. “It wouldn’t have to be like this if your friend here didn’t steal my ring. Twice.”

“Jisung, seriously?” You facepalm yourself. You can still vividly remember how Felix snatched the piece of jewelry away from your palm when your face smacked the ground. And now Jisung decided to take it back? Without your consent? You’re not taking a bullet for him, not this time.

Jisung puts his hands up in defeat. “Okay okay, I have a confession.” He inhales. “I sold it.” Just when you thought things can’t possibly get any worse.

“What?!” You and Felix exclaim simultaneously.

Felix tongues the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Come here, tell you what..”

The moment Jisung takes a step towards him, Felix takes his hand in a little bit too abruptly. He twists it at a weird angle, making Jisung wince. “That, is for selling the ring.” He presses your friend harshly against the coffee table, the handle of the gun secured on the nape of his neck, and you grimace at the sight. But also, you’re low-key enjoying this. “And that, is for being a little shit. You’re coming with me tomorrow, no negotiation.”

Felix soon lets go when your brother glares at him, smiling softly, warm brown eyes twinkling like a starry night. Jisung backs away almost immediately in caution when he offers to pull him upright and cowers behind Minho. You can tell that he’s terrified of the seemingly harmless freckled boy now. This is what he gets for never learning, he’s made a grave mistake to touch someone’s property in the middle of an apocalypse, where everyone’s more than ready to tear each other apart when they’re pissed about off about something as little as being hangry. “Huh, you’re not very into handshakes then. Don’t you want your gun back too?” He puts his hands into the pockets of his jeans, turning to meet Woojin’s eyes.

“Alright, we’ll have to talk about this later.” Your brother merely sneers at Jisung. “I’ll reintroduce you guys. Y/N, my sister.” He motions towards you before averting his attention to the other two. “That’s Minho, find him if you’re injured or need someone to knock some solid logic into your head.” Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “And the moron who, uh, robbed you is Jisung. He’s a really good guy, I swear. His hands are apparently faster than his brain.”

Chan speaks up dryly. “So he’s a doctor, and a part-time therapist.” Minho nods satisfactorily. “And he’s an idiot.” Jisung just smiles awkwardly because he’s not planning on getting his ass kicked again. At least not for the time being.

You interject, still drowning in confusion. “Wait, you know him?”

“Yeah, he’s the son of our parents’ former business partners. You guys used to hang out as toddlers.” Woojin says.

You widen your eyes. “What?” You can’t believe it. Felix is ridiculously attractive (you’d hate to admit that in front of him) so hanging out with a boy this cute, even not for long would still definitely leave you with some kind of impression. There’s no way this charming guy had witnessed those times where you’re still taking medicine by swallowing them down with chocolate pudding. You’d rather bury yourself alive at this point.

“The Lees made that?” You gasp.

Woojin nods reluctantly. “They sure did.”

Felix takes a few steps forward and looks down at you, decreasing the distance between your faces. His minty breath fans your face and leaves you flustered within seconds. “Long time no see, Princess. Told you I will always find you.” He throws you a wolfish wink, proceeding to walk past you to go upstairs with Chan following him after.

“Hey! I still want my gun back!” Jisung yells after him.

The pet name that rolled off his tongue effortlessly sends your heartbeat over the edge. It’s beating vigorously inside your rib cage, louder than when your parents were about to eat you alive, louder than when you were kicked to the curb by some random mobs, so loud that you’re afraid everyone’s gonna hear it. It’s only your second encounter and he’s already messing with your heart just by simply existing as he is.

Jesus fucking Christ. Now, you’re really screwed.

Because falling for someone during an apocalypse is just another fucked up version of every rom-com to ever exist. Or maybe a knocked-off version of Warm Bodies, except Felix isn’t a zombie.

Yet.

four.

You wake up today feeling quite at peace for once in a while since the zombies outbreak only to find out that Jisung is heading outside to search for medicine with Minho. Meaning, drum rolls, you’re having the honor to go with Prince Charming aka Lee Felix and retrieve his stupid ring. You’re far too mad at Woojin to even finish the can of tuna that he kindly offered. Instead, you decide to bolt outside as soon as possible before you accidentally murder your brother.

“Get in Princess, we don’t have all day!” Felix calls out loudly as he repeatedly honks his car. Admittedly, you’re quite impressed that he managed to find a whole ass Jeep in the middle of this ghost town.

You enter the car, almost gasping at how good of a condition that this car is still in. Whoever owned this vehicle previously, God bless them because they definitely did a great job at keeping it nice and clean. There are no questionable items lying on the floor or inside one of the cabinets, the AC is still working, the radio isn’t showing those creepy statics sounds that never fail to chill you to the bones.

Felix perks a brow in amusement. “It’s mine, by the way, I did a great job at keeping it clean huh?” When you give him nothing but a scowl, he chuckles lightheartedly and starts the engine. “Buckle up, I don’t want you to suddenly fly out of the window or anything.”

“Oh, you’re pretty shit at driving then.” You comment flatly, making an effort to avoid his eyes. They keep drawing you in even at the slightest chance. You’re not falling into that downward spiral again, nope, never. But you can’t help but notice how he still looks good in a bomber jacket with a simple tee underneath, tucked neatly inside his ripped jeans.

Upon your cold response, Felix’s smile remains still on his lips. “Said someone who can’t even drive.” He snickers somewhat sarcastically. Wow, do you miss bickering with Minho about his three spoiled cats.

“Sure, hand over the keys unless you want us both to play tennis with Hitler in the afterlife.” You protest with as much sarcasm. God, it’s been two minutes into the ride and the amount of willpower you’re mustering right now to not grab him by the collar and yank his ass out of this car is actually terrifying. But doing that can potentially threaten your own life so indeed, you’re starting to wonder if that’s gonna be the wisest decision. “What’s the big deal with that ring anyway? Can’t you just break into some jewelry store and find another one that you like?”

Felix looks into the distance, his smile faltering. “My mom wanted me to give it to the girl that I’m willing to spend the rest of my life with. Even when things are fucked up, like right about… now..” He tells you sternly with a hint of sadness in his tone, his warm brown eyes are now cloudy. It’s hard to break through the wall that he’s trying to build, but you don’t think you both are close enough to talk about these things anyway.

If anything, you should try to lighten up the mood. “Good luck with that. Because the only thing you’re gonna be willing to live with now is a gun and those packets of Tim Tam Slam.”

He turns sideways to make eye contact with you for a split second before averting his gaze back on the road. So you actually pay attention to the little details. “Call it.” Felix smiles again, and somehow, you feel like a weight is being lifted off your chest. “And mind you, I have a fiancé. Well, more like ‘had’ but whatever, doesn’t matter, same thing.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva, eyes as wide as a goldfish’s. “You have a what?!”

“Relax, haven’t you heard of an arranged marriage before?” He looks at you as if you’re some kind of alien species from outer space. “I was gonna give the ring to her but bummer, your friend just had to sell it.”

Arms crossed over your chest, you hold back a chuckle with a hand secured on your mouth. “Wow..” You manage to choke out between giggles. “You must be getting something impressive to be able to agree to marry a goody-two-shoes who owns more money than what she knows to do with.”

“Pardon?” Felix snorts involuntarily. “What does that suppose to mean? Are you insulting my marriage?”

‘Insulting’ is an understatement for an entire lecture that you’ve already planned out in your head that you’re about to give him a piece of but you don’t think he’s ready for that just yet. Instead, you counter softly. “Not quite, but for the most parts, yeah, I guess I am.” He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and proceeds to throw daggers towards your direction with his eyes every three seconds. “But let me ask you this. If you wanna give that ring to your fiancé so badly, then do you really love her? Or is everything just a contract so that you won’t put your parents’ company at risk?”

A comfortable silence falls upon the both of you as Felix starts replaying your words over and over again in his mind. He’s never the type to go out and about, looking for love like it’s the only purpose of his life. He’s never dated anyone before. He used to believe that love always comes at the most unexpected moment for the longest time and he should be waiting, not searching. He didn’t think much about the arranged marriage either. She was a nice girl, but they’ve only talked twice, and nothing really clicked like how he imagined love would feel like. Felix knew, he knew deep down that it wouldn’t work out after all but he was just too much of a coward to admit it. But your words hit differently, imprinting him with a little something called ‘reality’.

Everything’s kinda screwed right now, no one knows how much longer humanity can keep up with this whole survival situation. Living on the streets, and can never get a good night's sleep. Although it does sting a bit knowing that he might die alone on this planet, it definitely gives him another point of view to look at the relationship between him and his fiancé. He doesn’t even want to imagine living in the same house with her at this point.

“Your mom wanted you to give it to someone special right?” You tell him softly, a hand brushing over his as an attempt to soothe the ache in his chest. “Then you gotta find them. It’s not over yet. But that doesn’t mean there’s much time left. You don’t have to keep running towards something that isn’t worth it in the first place anymore.” You pause for a moment, lips curling upwards. “Because if we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?”

Felix bursts into laughter and brushes your hand off of him. “Ew! You stole that from a movie and it’s not even good. Jesus Y/N, get some counseling.”

“Don’t shit on my pop culture references like that you uncultured swine.”

“Just don’t do that again.”

You roll your eyes at him. “One more word and I’ll burn you down with this Jeep.” And he just smirks at you because he knows for sure that you won’t have the heart to destroy such a good car when the world is literally falling apart. Because chances are, you hate your dad’s old grey Innovator that only pumps lukewarm air inside the vehicle. In which, isn’t the most ideal thing for an apocalypse. But Woojin loves that thing far too much to throw it away so you’ve never had the heart to tell him to.

Felix calmly parks on a random sidewalk before taking the key and exits the car. “We’re here.” You follow him not long after, eyes squinted due to the brightness of the daylight. Even though you’re barely seeing anything, you can’t seem to recognize this neighborhood. And it doesn’t look very sketchy either, pretty mediocre to say the least. You can’t seem to remember if Woojin has taken you here or not. And you’re starting to wonder how many zombies are hiding behind those buildings, seeing your scent as a solution for their never-ending thirst. Who the hell did Jisung sell that ring to?

Felix narrows his eyes and spots something in the distance. “Y/N, are you seeing this?” You quickly stand beside him, and slowly, a slouched figure comes into view. “I’ll take care of that.” He places a hand on your shoulder when the figure picks up its pace, the muscles on your back tense up at his touch. “Trust me, I’m not gonna accidentally blow your head into bits.”

“Down!”

You quickly duck and slide yourself across the concrete surface in time before Felix can swing the baseball bat straight into your face. The bat comes in contact with the zombie harshly enough to knock it backward, onto her bottom. You and Felix look at each other for a solid three seconds before approaching the zombie again, examining her more closely. Her once blond hair is now doused in nothing but blood, sticking to her face and neck. Both of her lips are completely distorted as if another zombie gave her the kiss of Death (quite literally) as a welcome ritual. Suddenly, she jolts up from her lying position, hands wagging in midair to grab onto something.

You jump backward on instinct as Felix brings the baseball bat down again, and again, and again until you can’t even make out the horrendous features of the zombie anymore. He scrunches his nose at the smell of the poisoned blood and tosses the metal bat away. “Never hurts to double-tap, better not get blood on my white Jeep.”

You blurt subconsciously. “Impressive, Charming.” Okay but in your defense, Felix just smacked the hell out of the zombie with a baseball bat, he basically saved your life. Although you’re fully capable of protecting yourself, that was pretty hot.

He’s too busy fixing the sleeves of his shirt but his eyes immediately light up at your words. “Say that again?”

“In your freaking dreams, Lee.”

Felix pulls you in and ruffles your hair, rocking you side to side happily. “Don’t be so uptight! Complimenting me once in a while wouldn’t kill anyone now, would it?” When he’s too immersed in annoying the shit out of you, something falls out of his pocket with a small ‘clang’.

“Wait, you dropped something—“ You manage to wiggle out of his embrace and bend down to pick it up, and your mind just stops. “Felix…isn’t that your ring?”

five.

“Jesus Christ!” Woojin almost yells when he sees a black-eyed Felix exiting the kitchen with an ice pack on his right hand, lips swollen with several cuts across his face. “What happened to you?”

You walk into the living room not long after, tiny scratches are scattered all over your pale knuckles, blood trickling down on your cheeks like you’ve been crying red. “Okay,” Woojin shakes his head, pushing himself up from the beige-colored couch. “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“I punched him in the face.” “She punched me in the face.” The both of you confess in sync, exchanging questionable looks before turning away from each other.

“And why is there blood on your face again?” Woojin swears, if Felix dares to touch you, he will put his head on a chopping block, not to mention hurting you.

You shrug back, grabbing a water bottle from the coffee table and chug on it generously. “It’s not mine.” Without turning your head, you hand the bottle over to Felix. The boy gladly receives it, downing the whole thing left in one go. “Anyway, some mobsters appeared out of nowhere and they wanted his stupid ring. I got my ass kicked for a goddamn piece of jewelry, twice.” You merely glare at Felix who’s applying pressure to the cool pack of ice against his bruised eye, wincing every once in a while. He does feel kinda guilty, believe it or not. Maybe lying wasn’t the best option to get you to hang out with him more. There’s no way you two could have died back there, but he would be more than ready to throw the ring away for the sake of your safety.

But either way, Jisung’s gonna be dead meat to you after this.

“You do realize that we just kissed indirectly right?” Felix laughs when you chuck the now empty water bottle at him, hissing in anger. He’s acting like such a Lee, irritating, and carefree most of the time. In which, makes you wanna kill him with your bare hands even more in these kinds of situations. “Come here, a princess shouldn’t have blood on her pretty face.” He manages to turn you around and face him as he pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. When he leans down slightly to wipe the crimson stickiness away, your once tense muscles now relax, loosening themselves.

Within this proximity, you’re able to take a closer look at his starry eyes with long lashes framing them perfectly, his cute button nose, his peachy lips and how his freckles are more beautiful than anything you’ve seen before. One of his hands holds your neck in place while the other is secured on your waist so it’s easier for him to get a better angle. Felix furrows his brows every now and then, being careful and gentle at the same time to get rid of the blood off your face completely. He did pull you into doing the dirty business after all. Might as well make up for it.

You didn’t push him away because this feels...safe, and right. He makes you feel at ease after the longest time, it’s like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not even your brother can possess this sense of comfort in his presence. It almost makes you smile which is seemingly paradoxical because forty minutes ago, you were figuring out ways to hide a corpse since you couldn’t stand his nosy ass for much longer.

“Ew, I’m getting out of here. I can’t bear seeing this.” Woojin makes a gagging noise before stumbling out of the living room with his cup of espresso, leaving you and Felix alone in the living room. A muffled silence occurs for the next thirty seconds.

“There,” He clears his throat before pulling away. “Done.”

You look away. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though.”

“Anything for my princess.”

You ignore his cheeky smile before rummaging through the wooden drawers. “Sit down.” You demand once you pull out a mini first aid kit, Minho always keeps those randomly around the house just in case. One can never be too careful after all. Felix does as you say, taking a seat on the couch. He watches you taking out a cotton swab with a bottle of sanitizing solution. “Lean in.” You command while dipping the cotton swab into the solution, his hand brushing over your thigh accidentally.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shake your head as an attempt to hide the coral tint on your cheeks. “This is gonna hurt though…” You warn him, cotton swab hovering over one of the cuts on his cheeks. Felix nods obediently, clenching his fists and squeezes his eyes shut to brace himself for the burn. He can’t gush over how cute you look anymore since he’s secretly terrified of cleaning wounds. But who isn’t?

You smirk internally. “Okay, I’m gonna count down from three to one.”

“Three..” A single drop of cold sweat rolls down on his temple.

“Two..” He holds his breath. But before he can react properly, you’re already pressing the cotton swab onto his wound, your other hand pinning his down firmly. “Felix quit moving already! How old are you for fuck’s sake?!” You laugh wholeheartedly, struggling to hold him in place while cleaning his opened cuts with the solution.

Felix shrieks like a little child. “Ah! Ow! Y/N! Ah! Y/N! Y/N, I SWEAR TO GOD!” He succeeds in pulling away after a good three minutes, the burn from the alcohol feels like there’s fire coursing through his veins, burning a hole right through his skin. He’s not doing that ever again. “That hurt like a motherfucker.” Whimpering, his brows are knitted together in agony when you put a bandage over the wound. “You didn’t even finish counting, I hate you.”

“There there you big baby.” Smiling at him, your hand gently caresses his calloused ones. It doesn’t take him long to realize how soft your hands are, and how cold they are compared to him too. So he decides to link your fingers together, hoping to give you some of his warmth. You completely freeze at his action and choose to look anywhere but his eyes, from the broken TV to the random magazines on the coffee table and his shiny pistol next to them.

Felix brushes his thumb over the back of your hand and chuckles. “See, you do know how to smile. It’s not that hard to smile in front of me after all, is it?” He brings your knuckles to his lips and peppers small kisses over them lovingly. It makes his heart crack a little upon seeing them all scratched up, because of him. Little actions like this always make you feel fuzzy on the inside, especially when it comes from someone like Felix? You’re done for.

“I didn’t see this. I’ve never seen this. I’m not seeing this. I will never see this again.” He pulls away shyly when Jisung starts teasing you both as he passes by the living room from upstairs. Oh right, weren’t you planning on decking his face for setting you on a ‘date’ with a guy you hardly know only after three solid days when he kicked your ass?

“HAN JISUNG GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

six.

Falling for Lee Felix is scarier than getting infected with the Mad Cow Disease (or Mad Zombie Disease). It’s official. But knowing the basic bitch that you are, being loopy in love with him is quite inevitable. There’s no use fighting against fate anyway, still, you’re going to postpone it for as long as you can because you definitely don’t wanna get too attached during an apocalypse.

Sadly, having Felix share a room with Chan right beside yours doesn’t exactly help you avoid him. He always roams the house half-naked at night like he’s trying to put his chiseled abs up for auction after every shower. One time he almost gave you a cardiac arrest when you found him rummaging through the fridge at two in the morning without a shirt on. There were some nights where you didn’t even get a wink of sleep because Chan and he were too busy jamming to music even though they know that the walls in this house are clearly paper-thin. However, you chose to let them slide for the sake of Jisung’s and Minho’s so-called ‘beauty sleep’ aka their spontaneous cuddle sessions throughout the day. That’s only an excuse to avoid him even more.

Felix obviously knows what’s up, so he’s been acting extra annoying these days to get your attention. He keeps popping his head inside your room (which was initially a storage room but you insisted on having it since you didn’t want to share your questionable sleeping habits with any of the guys) and asks for random stuff that never seems to make sense. Like who needs a fucking stapler when the whole world is falling into a crisis? You still kept yourself together and didn’t throw hands at him because you’re not planning on giving him what he wanted.

But what Felix wants? Felix gets.

“Good morning Princess..” He half-whispers and half-singsongs after shutting the door of your room with his foot. “Thank fucking God.” He mentally bows to whatever gods up there that’s pushing their blood family feud aside to bless him for the day. You’re still fast asleep, snoring softly with your grey blanket wrapped around your body.

He’s impressed by how you still manage to not wake up early every other day because there’s no curtain unlike his room so the sunlight can easily peer right through, casting a delicate light on your figure. Surprisingly, you don’t sleep like Chan, with his leg dangling off the edge of the bed and his blanket’s on the floor by the time the sun rises again. You sleep with four limbs curled inwards, hands grabbing two full fists of the grey fabric like a puppy.

He also notices how you’re still keeping pictures of your childhood memories on one of the empty bookshelves. There’s one with you and Woojin standing in the middle of Time Square when you both came to the States. And there’s another one where you’re dressed up as Harley Quinn with Hyunjin as the Joker on your right, Jisung as Rick Flag to your left and your brother as Deadshot squatting on the ground for your senior year’s Halloween party. Although you’re more of a Marvel gal yourself.

“Y/N...” Felix whispers softly as he sits down on your bed, careful not to wake you up. His original plan to have you chase him up and down the house is already going down the drain since he really doesn’t want to ruin a good night's sleep. Chan has done that to him one too many times and he sure knows the consequences. Heck, Chan might not even see him after this.

Felix outstretches his hand carefully, caressing your cheekbone like you’re made of glass. He can’t help but act like a creep because you’re too cute for your own good when you’re sleeping. It’s kinda nice actually, to not have you yelling at him for not putting clothes on right after his shower or wrestling him to the floor whenever he headlocks you at the most random times.

Suddenly, your eyes shoot open. The moment you see another human being’s presence in your own personal bubble, you automatically grab him by the neck before pinning him down onto the bed, locking his arms behind his back. “Ow! Ow! Dude, chill!” Felix cries out from underneath you, struggling to breathe properly when you’re practically crushing his lungs. Okay, he definitely did not see that coming.

“My goodness, what are you doing here?!” You gasp in realization, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Woojin- said-“ he chokes out between uneven breaths. “I could- come in- and wake you up.”

You cross your arms and sigh. “Yeah, come in.” You say with expressive hands. “Not touching me without my consent.”

He winces at the red marks across his wrists. “Since when can you fight someone like that?” Yeah, those aren’t going away anytime soon.

“What part of ‘Zombie Apocalypse Self-Learn Defense Basics 101’ don’t you understand?” You yawn tiredly before running a hand through your bed head. “Anyway, what do you want?”

Felix beams innocently, taking in the sight of your pajamas. “Your attention.” And you internally thank your brother for not doing laundry yesterday (water’s also running low), which means you had to borrow Minho’s PJs instead of wearing your Mickey Mouse sweatpants with the tank top from your old basketball team.

You really don’t have time for this, you think. Coldly, “Why?” you fake a lifeless smile.

“You’ve never spoken to me since the day when those mobsters beat the shit out of us.” He pouts like a sad kitten. “Look, I know that it’s my fault okay? I’m sorry. But I really just wanted to hang out with you. If you didn’t play hard to get, you would have saved us a trip to some sketchy neighborhood.”

You stop him right there. “First of all, I did talk to you. Just a maximum of five words per day. And secondly, they didn’t beat the shit out of us, we made them run back to wherever they came from, crying for their mommy while soiling their pants.”

“There!” He exclaims. “You said it yourself. Five words per day. Why? Am I that much of an asshole to hold a civil conversation with? Don’t tell me that you’re still holding grudges from the day we first met.”

“So what if I hold grudges? Do you think holding my best friend at gunpoint is gonna make me wanna befriend you?”

“Okay, bad example—“

“Look, can we talk this out later? I need to go outside and look for some food. We’re running out of those premade, frozen chicken nuggets that my brother’s obsessed with. As always.” You push him aside and place your hand on the doorknob. But Felix catches your hand in time before you can twist it, yanking it back so that you’re facing him, dead in the eye. He’s not letting go of his chance again. “Let-me-go.” You deadpan but receive a frown from him as a reply.

“No,” Felix looks like you just spit on him, his mocha eyes are now unreadable, almost hurt at why you’re acting so cold towards him. Some guys find it hot when girls have this kind of facade on, but this? This shit hurts him, tremendously. You might see him as a spoiled brat at day and party animal at night who just happens to be friends with your brother for all he knows. “I don’t trust your definition of ‘later’. Who knows? You might never let me into your life again after this conversation. I don’t like people shutting me out like this. Tell me, Y/N, do you really hate me that much? If so, I solemnly swear I will never talk to you again.”

Your prepared beforehand witty retort grows dead on the tip of your tongue. His eyes...they’re not lying. It makes your heart crack a bit upon seeing how sad they look right now. Perhaps you were being too harsh on him? Maybe you shouldn’t have judged him from the get-go? “You care about me, don’t you?” Felix reaches his hand upwards to tug a strand of hair behind your ear. He gently grabs your hand and places them on his cheekbone, where a scar is fading by time. “Remember this? You treated me. You do care, Y/N. You’re not stupid enough to think that I didn’t know right?”

You retrieve your hand and scoff. “Why would I care? Did I look like I cared? The only reasons I treated your wounds were because I could witness your pathetic state and I punched you in the face previously. Totally didn’t regret that but still, I wanted to make it up to you.” You say, desperately trying to wiggle your way out of this conversation because you’re not enjoying where this is going.

He inches closer and closer until he’s a breath away from your lips. “Because when you were treating my wounds, you had that dumb look on your face whenever you’re focused.” And you finally exhale when he pulls away, backing out of your room with a smirk. “I’ll wait in the car, your Highness.”

seven.

Going grocery shopping with Felix is rather stressful. Not because there are zombies spontaneously popping out of nowhere every five minutes, but because you quickly, quickly realize that this boy knows nothing about food other than stuffing his face until he can’t even pick himself up anymore. He can’t tell the difference between actually good meat and meat that’s been spoiled for several weeks. You literally can’t even fathom why because the foul smell would definitely give it away but unfortunately, he doesn’t even spare a second to suspect the sketchy hues of green and blue on the red surface.

But hey, at least he can kick some zombies’ asses when you’re too busy deciding between salmon and tuna. You’d always end up getting both anyway because why not? Guess this is what you get for not having to pay for anything. Being stuck with an uneducated fool who’s never once experienced working in the kitchen. The area around here is somewhat isolated so the stores are still pretty stocked up with all of the essentials. Thank God they haven’t run out of Woojin’s favorite chicken nuggets.

“Do you even know what this is?” You throw your hands up midair in disbelief, referring to the pile of grapefruits that are now half-way empty for no particular reason.

Felix makes a thinking face, lips pursing. “I think it’s a flamingo.”

“Lee Yongbok, you gotta be shitting me—“

He stops midway towards the frozen aisle. “Woah woah slow down bro, where did you get that name from?” His Korean name is as confidential as Chan’s secret drawers full of his guilty pleasure food. Not many people call him that because he secretly hates it and whoever takes that advantage to make fun of him deserves the cruelest of punishment. Felix frowns furiously at you before grabbing several packs of the chicken nuggets, fries, and some dumplings to throw them into the cart along with his Tim Tam Slam and your KitKat. “Chan told you right? He’s been on my ass all week since we moved in with you guys.”

You help him with stocking up canned food. “Why though? He seems like such a nice guy.” Okay except for the fact that he almost blew Jisung’s brain out. But you’re not gonna dwell on the past. “No worries though, everyone has probably known your Korean name by now.”

“This is not what I signed up for.”

You aggressively grab him by the neck to ruffle his hair, laughing at his misery. “Look at us, we’re already becoming so civil, I bet my brother is loving this.”

Felix tugs himself free from your grip to fix his hair and huffs. “Could be fate, you know?” He wiggles his brows, making you gag as you both make your way out of the store.

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “And they say I’m the crazy one.”

“No! I’m serious!” He exclaims with two hands up in defense. “One thing leads to another. Are you seeing how far we’ve come?” He pauses for a bit when the two of you reach the car so that he can throw everything to the backseats. “Jisung impulsively stole my ring, which made us run into each other. I met you again because I just happen to be friends with your brother. And since you tried to avoid me so hard, I had an excuse to piss you off so that I’m making up to you right now. How is that not fate?” He ends his speech before entering the car, inserting his key to start the engine.

You jump into the passenger’s seat, scoffing. “Thanks for the pep talk, pretty sure fate’s doing all the work. Now, where are we going?”

“I’m hungry, and I’m craving something.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “And I’m supposed to care because..?”

“Shut up and turn on some music.” He tosses you his phone.

Felix’s playlist consists of a handful of Coldplay’s songs with some other upbeat, trendy ones. He knows enough lyrics to sing along to throughout the drive. You look out the window and loosen yourself up a bit. His voice is surprisingly soothing, a stark contrast to his usual deep talking voice which is kinda nice to listen to. Both of you never start talking because you’re already dozing off to Dreamland because he had the audacity to drag your ass out of bed at eight in the morning. Your head constantly knocks onto the cool glass window every two minutes or so, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering your slumber.

It’s almost noon, and the sun’s probably the only thing that’s keeping Felix awake. He’s hungry, thirsty, sleepy and kind of stiff from occupying the driver’s seat for way too long. He didn’t get any sleep last night, busy thinking of ways to get your attention again. Luckily, he didn’t walk out of your room with a black eye this time. Felix mentally exhales when he pulls up, and his eyes are met with the giant purple and pink neon sign: “Fancy” aka Chan’s favorite place. He shuts the engine off before leaning over to wake you up.

“Meow,” he flinches at the sound and immediately turns to you. You would never possibly make that, would you? “Meow,” there it is again. His eyes shift again to the backseats, squinting hard only to make out a yellow ball of fluff shuffling through the bags of groceries. “Oh my God Soonie, what the hell are you doing here?” He sighs in relief when the cat finally looks up at him, green eyes piercing through the dark.

You stir in your slumber and eventually wake up upon hearing the commotion. “What happened?” A loud yawn escapes your lips when you rub your eyes tiredly. You turn around only to see Minho’s oldest cat pawing at the paper bags. “Are you seeing Soonie in the backseats right now or am I just delusional?”

“Well, that makes two of us. She probably sneaked out again, Minho’s gonna throw hands soon.” Felix scoops Soonie into his arms easily and opens the door. Then, he turns around to look at you. “Come on, I bet you’re hungry, my treat.”

eight.

“Food,” Felix tells you when he shuts the door behind his back. He takes in the cool air of the diner and exhales deeply. God bless humanity for air conditioners.

You nod back without looking at him. “Yeah, food.” And you let him drag you across the diner by the wrist.

The diner is definitely not the place that needs to be booked months in advance. It’s not the kind with large mullioned windows, long embroidered curtains, velvet tables or delicate classical music in the background. It leans more towards the retro style with checkered floor, colorful and fun pieces of furniture, somewhere that makes you feel cozy too. You like it here.

Felix outstretches his limbs and yawns, petting Soonie gently. The cat isn’t as impulsive as she is whenever Doongie or Dori is trying to steal her toy. Thank goodness. “Nayeon!” He smiles and waves at the brunette girl behind the counter.

She quickly catches your eyes with her bunny-like smile, radiant skin, and pretty eyes. When she smiles, her cheeks are bunched up, eyes wrinkling into little crescent moons. The type of smile that will make anyone a little breathless. Then, you hear Felix mumbling that something smells really fucking good when he leans over the counter. You look around the diner once again, although it’s empty, there are still people working as if they don’t mind the given circumstances. These people are all high, they are all insane. They have to be.

Nayeon pulls out a pen along with her notepad, eyeing you with curiosity. “Hey kid, where’s Chan?” And you quickly break eye contact with her, pretending to have some kind of interest in the photo of her with other eight girls right beside the menu. They were on a tropical island, smiling and laughing with the ocean waves splashing against them. All of them are incredibly gorgeous, making you feel small in comparison.

“He’s elsewhere with Woojin today. I’ll take the usual,” Felix slides the smaller version of the menu across the counter, perking a brow for you to take a look at it. “Choose whatever you like.”

You shrug. “Anything will do.”

“Then two of what I already said then.” He nods towards the waitress, earning another warm smile.

Nayeon taps her pen against her cheek, whispering. “Who’s that? Did you find someone?” She looks down at how his hand is holding onto yours and grins mischievously. Felix automatically drops your hand at her words, blushing furiously while looking down in slight embarrassment. “Ah, no need to explain, I’ve got you.” She places a hand on his shoulder and laughs before punching in your order.

“It’s not—“

Nayeon puts her index finger over his mouth. “I’ve got you.” She’s never seen Felix hanging out with any girl other than his sisters before so she’s 90% sure that you’re not just any girl to be able to go to this specific diner with him. By the look of it, there’s gotta be something between you two. How you’re constantly staring into midair and anywhere else to avoid her eagle eyes, how Felix’s cheeks are redder than a tomato. Everything just speaks for itself. “Your orders will be right out.” She beams and walks back into the kitchen. You almost bury yourself alive hearing multiple females squealing and giggling in the distance.

“Sorry about that,” he pushes himself away from the counter before smiling sheepishly. “They just get excited because—“

“Because you’re a coward who’s never been in a relationship before.” You finish his sentence with a smirk, snatching Soonie from his pocket and walk over to one of the round tables.

Felix settles down on the opposite side of the table with a sigh. He shoots you a dirty look before pouting. “God, you’re so mean. Stop exposing my miserable, non-existent love life.”

[1:35p.m.]

meanhoe | uhm hello Kardashians, I’m looking for my eldest daughter Soonie?

woobear | not the living room!

[1:36p.m.]

trashbin | not my room!

drama lama | not the backyard!

old man | not the kitchen either!

[1:37p.m.]

quokka | not the bar too!

meanhoe | tf are you doing at a bar?

quokka | retrieving my sanity…

[1:38p.m.]

meanhoe | you know that my whiskey is wayyy better right?

quokka | DID I STUTTER?

meanhoe | swiped left.

[1:39p.m.]

y/n | she was inside Felix’s Jeep for some reason, we’re at a diner rn, some place called ‘Fancy’?

old man | LEE FELIX YOU TRAITOR!!

old man | YOU BETTER BRING ME SOME WHEN YOU GET HOME.

[1:40p.m.]

meanhoe | bring her home safely, and I’ll make dinner.

meanhoe | if not, I will grab you both by the throat and tear you apart, piece by piece.

meanhoe | there will be no negotiation, no compromise, and no mercy.

You just grin at your phone before putting the device away and shudder slightly. That’s enough Internet for today, boys being boys. This is why you’re low-key terrified of cat lovers. “Well aren’t you busy,” Felix scoffs when he sees that you’re not having any interest in one of the proper conversations with him that rarely happens. “Too busy texting with some cute boy to talk to me instead?” He cocks his head sideways, mustering his best puppy eyes or in this case, kitten eyes because he looks just like ‘Puss in Boots’.

You pinch his nose cutely, making him back off in pain. “If you’re saying Minho aka the freaky dad cat is cute then yes, I am extremely occupied with him threatening my life for having his beloved daughter in my arms.” Then, you allow him to glare at you for as long as he likes while you’re too focused on admiring the view from the window. The sky is oddly blue today, not too cloudy, not too sunny, the air is not that stuffy either. Maybe on a good day, even a zombie apocalypse seems pretty normal. You can understand why these girls still want to run the diner during times like this, simply because they love their job. And they want to help those in need because it’s the least they can do, to give people a heartwarming meal.

“Sorry,” Nayeon walks towards your table with a bowl of warm milk. “The food will be out in a minute, I just don’t want the little thing to starve and be all miserable while you guys are stuffing your faces.” She pets Soonie with the warmest smile and the kitten purrs into her touch, closing her eyes in satisfaction.

Felix pulls her out of your arms and gently places her next to him on the cushioned surface. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that though. Minho spoils her on a daily basis.”

Curiously, “When did this happen?” You frown before running your index finger over a small hole that just happens to be the size of a bullet, cautious enough to not accidentally cut your finger.

“Oh, that,” The brunette waitress' expression mirrors yours, slightly confused and intrigued. “Huh, I wonder…”

And all of the colors drain on your face. “Duck,” you say breathlessly, breaths coming in short.

“What?” Felix can barely hear his own voice.

Nayeon suddenly looks alarmed. “Everyone get down!” She shouts at the top of her lungs, arms flailing like a madwoman. “GET DOWN! NOW!”

Just then, a bullet pierces right through the window, glass shattering into pieces as you see Nayeon clutching onto her own stomach, blood oozing from her fresh wound. You’re ready to yelp aloud when Felix pulls you down onto the ground with him, letting his body cover up your head and shards of glass cut his cheeks. The diner grows uncomfortably silent when no sound is made, but you still keep your eyes shut and your face buried in his chest.

“Hey hey look at me,” Felix tells you, angling your jaw so that you can make eye contact with him although your eyes are quivering in fear. It’s not the first time you’ve heard a gunshot before but he’s never seen you so shaken up about it before. It hurts seeing you like this. “We’re gonna be okay—“

Before you can reply without tripping over your own words, something falls onto the tiled floor, rolling across the surface to reach the other side of the diner. You squint your eyes hard to make out the shape of the object. It was almost the size of an avocado, round-ish, and dark. No one seems to notice it at all until there’s an ear-piercing sound that keeps beeping, echoing throughout the entire diner.

“Shit—“ You breathe out and hold onto Felix tightly, bracing yourself for the blow.

That’s when the entire place explodes, destroying every single thing until there’s nothing left but the grey ashes that are following the wind to reach the burning sky above.

Utterly demolished, you’d say.

nine.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Woojin says softly when he sits down next to you on your bed. He gives your hand a squeeze in reassurance, heartbroken at your state. You look as pale as a ghost, the bags under your eyes more evident than ever, and your lips chapped, starting to turn purple. You haven’t touched the food that Minho offered for the past few days, still refusing to talk to any of the guys. But he was relieved that you were saved from the pile of ruins by one of the workers there - Jihyo, he believes that’s her name. He wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you.

“No,” you shake your head profusely. “Not now.”

“So the thought of losing him does scare the shit out of you?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ve found your happy ending,” your brother ruffles your hair and stands up. “Yes, right in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.” He smiles at you one last time, “Anyway, you better find him then. Godspeed.” before closing the door with a small ‘click’.

Meanwhile, you’re staring at the wooden floor blankly, starting to wonder how filthy rich the previous family living here was. By the look of it, they seemed to be pretty well off but were probably scared shitless when the disease spread like wildfire. With that, they took off running, leaving everything behind to preserve their precious lives. But who knows? They could be some random zombies out there, roaming the streets mindlessly by now.

You space out a lot these days, thinking about random things, but mostly him. You keep on asking yourself where in the world is he, how is he holding up, but it’s all pointless since you don’t even know if he’s still… Anyway, but when you peer at the small mirror on your table, you can see a small glimmer of another presence inside your room. Sometimes you don’t realize how far you can go whenever you’re thinking hard about something. It gets to the point where you don’t even move when Minho or Hyunjin is yelling or screaming about some stupid things right in front of your eyes.

You take another look, eyes growing wide. It’s a glimmer of a pink-haired boy.

“Hey Princess, not gonna choke me to death for intruding your room this time?” Felix jokes before kneeling down in front of you. It takes you an entire two minutes to understand that he’s here. He’s really here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him in person that you’re starting to get emotional just by looking into his eyes. They’re still starry, warm and give you a sense of comfort whenever your gazes touch. “Hey, it’s all good now.” He wipes a single tear away from your face that you didn’t even take notice of.

You choke out, debating on whether you should be bawling your eyes out because he’s safe and sound or kick his ass for worrying you. “You can’t just come back and say that! Do you know how scared I was?! Do you have any idea how many sleepless nights I’ve gone through? And now you’re just gonna come back from the Underworld to tell me that ‘It’s all good now’? Well then if you excuse me, I’m gonna go murder my friends and see if it w—“

Felix figures you still haven’t changed one bit. He knows that you’re a lover, not a fighter. Talking big on the outside but easily hurt on the inside. That’s one of the things that makes you who you are today, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. So he wordlessly leans in to capture your lips in his, swallowing every word, every nonsense, every nag that you’re gonna throw his way until you completely melt into his touch. The kiss makes your head a little fuzzy, and butterflies are tickling at the pit of your stomach. For someone who’s never been in a relationship before, Felix will definitely make you giddy all day with a kiss like this. It’s kind of innocent, kind of childish but unforgettable.

The deeper the kiss gets, the more you think about your conversation with him the other day when he’s driving you to the diner. Fate might be a thing, but still a debatable topic. You’re not gonna say that you believe in fate because that’s a whole lot of commitment for someone who can’t even stay up to date with a short web drama. But maybe, just maybe, fate is doing its job just fine after all because you can’t ask for anyone else to be with you at the end of the world. You know that Felix’s not here just because the universe pities you (or him), or he will love you just for the hell of it either. Everything happens for a reason, but more importantly than ever, he’s not going anywhere this time. You didn’t ask, you’re sure of it by the look in his mocha eyes.

Because like you’ve said before, his eyes never lie. They could never.

You pull away before planting your hands on either side of his shoulders, chest heaving up and down due to shortness of breaths. “How did you...you know, make it?”

“I really thought that I was going to suffocate to my untimely death under the ruins of the diner but the girls found me later on when they were digging through everything. I was knocked out for a good week, some scratches here and there, but no one was hurt severely“ he stops himself before continuing when he sees your glossy eyes. “Nayeon is fine too. She didn’t lose that much blood, surprisingly.”

You let silence fall upon the both of you for a second when a rush of relief runs down your spine. Then, your lips twitch slightly at what you’re going to say next. “Do you know why I treated your wounds that day? Do you know why I stared at the floor when your friend was teasing us? Do you know why I spent the past few days being all depressed and teary in bed?” You ask Felix with such determination that it makes him chuckle.

“Easy,” he grins and caresses your cheekbone the exact same way he did a few days ago. “Because you fell for a spoiled rich kid who knows absolutely nothing about being in love. Just like how I did for you, a girl who’s best at killing the walking dead, not cooking, not cleaning, none of that shit. Weirdly enough, fate brought the two of us together again when we’re both lying on the borderline between life and death.”

You roll your eyes at him and finally crack a smile. The smile that he adores the most. “Then what if fate does us apart? What if it doesn’t want us to end up with each other again? What if this isn’t a happy ending but a beginning to something much more terrifying?”

“In that case,” Felix leans in again, his breath fanning your cheeks. “I will always find you. And look for you, and run to you until I no longer have the strength to lift myself off the ground with my own feet.” He gently slips the silver ring that he treasures with his entire life onto your finger and places small kisses on your knuckles, looking as beautiful as ever.

He’s right, and wrong at the same time. The idea of fate does have some kind of power over mundane mortals like you because you’ve been tied down to the idea of not being able to control your own life since you’re born. But on the other hand, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hand to be able to get what you want in life. So seeing how determined Felix is to find you even if it means walking to the other side of the planet with his bare feet in spite of being such a naïveté who believes in things that are considered dumb, you know that he’s being serious.

At the same time, you accept the fact that you didn’t find love, it found you because it’s got a little something to do with fate, destiny and what’s written in the stars.

You tell him, voice hoarse. “You’ll find me and never let me go?”

“Not this lifetime, not even in another one.” He says with a smile, eyes crinkling.

#stayshub #stray kids ot9 #lee felix fluff #zombie apocalypse #skz au #skz fanfic #felix fic #lee yongbok #stray kids scenarios #felix x reader #han jisung #yang jeongin #bang chan #kim woojin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin

498 notes · View notes

wafflewarriors · 5 years ago

Text

A Rewrite of History

Chapter 7—Bloody Mary

It had been pretty quiet lately. No trouble with angels, monsters, hunters, or anything in between. Just the shudder of tires against the road.

Despite this, your insomnia had grown worse, with nightmares to impede your sleep. You bought a coffee that morning, and by the time you had finished it, you weren't sure if your hands were still shaking in fear, or if that was just the caffeine in your system.

You could almost feel the journal, burning a hole in your bag. It did provide some information, though. John Winchester’s phone number was the book, and with John’s number, his voicemail left Dean’s number. So that left you something in last-case emergencies.

It felt so wrong to have it. You felt manipulative, cheating, and guilty. Season One Sam and Dean without their Dad’s journal just didn’t happen.

Your guilt was dragging you down. You were plagued by a recurring dream of the Winchesters chasing you down a long corridor... or forest trail... or sidewalk. Anywhere, really. They always caught you. You never escaped. There was always a dead end, and they would always stab you, right in the gut. Sometimes with a knife, sometimes with an angel blade, or other times—the worst times—they did it with a dull stake. You would struggle, and they would say, 'You are never going home.'

It was really screwing with your judgement, to say the least.

The idea of this next case wasn't helping your paranoia. The episode always had your skin crawling. It was like asking for something bad to happen. Why would you purposely do something so easily preventable? And the fact that the curse was transferable? It made you shudder. You would prefer your eyes unmelted, thanks.

You were also high risk. You certainly felt responsible for the deaths of the last few cases, and Bloody Mary wasn’t the type to discriminate.

You knew how to defeat her, though: get her to look into a damn mirror. Which sounded easy, but it meant you were going to have to find her first.

Bloody—well, you know.

///

It was noon when you pulled into a gas station just on the outskirts of Toledo, Ohio.

Warm lighting, colorful signs decorating the walls, some helium birthday balloons in the corner. It was a small, cozy station.

You minded yourself. The cashier offered a smile your way as you entered. She was your age, with long, brown hair and a smaller face. The typical, mousy college girl.

The irony of this case did not escape you as you cut to the gas station bathroom. Your period was at its peak, and you felt like absolute crap. Seriously. You just wanted to curl up in the backseat, maybe shoplift some candy bars.

You refused to shoplift, though. That was a low you hoped you'd never hit. You restocked on peanut butter, jerky, and a handful of candy bars you definitely didn’t need but couldn’t resist.

Approaching the cashier, you put the items on the counter and fished out your wallet. Forty dollars. You had already filled your tank up outside. Forty dollars wouldn’t cover it all. You were going to need to cut down on the candy.

Your throat tightened as you made a decision. “Uh,” you said, “actually, I’ll just take the peanut butter. Yeah, um, just that and… and pump three.”

She hesitated, eyeing your groceries. “Broke?”

You looked up. “What?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been there,” she said, pointing at the highly unnecessary snacks that made your mouth water. “I can cover it. Period, right?”

“How—what—”

“Unless it's Valentine's Day, that many candy bars is enough to tell anybody what time of the month it is,” she said. “It’s cool. The twenty bucks won’t kill me.”

“But you—”

“I can, really. No trouble. Seriously, just take it.”

You weren’t a charity case, damn it.

But before you could say anything, she put the items through the scanner. “It’s none of my business, but you look like a breeze could push you over. And… I mean, you’re just so pale. Girl, do you have anyone you can stick around with? Based on experience, shark week ain’t a time to be alone and broke.”

You shifted.

That apparently told her enough. “Nobody? At all?”

“Not really.”

She checked the clock. “Hmm. Well, hey, I get done in half an hour if you need a friend. I could buy you lunch?”

You really looked that horrible then. You sighed. "As much as I'd love that, I have a lot to do today."

"Pity. I wasn't asking." Her eyes flashed black.

Your stomach sank. Subconsciously, you turned to look toward your car, the only scrap of safety you’d managed to keep in this unforgiving world. If you could just get to the angel blade.

“Looking for this?” She lifted her employee shirt to expose her hip, which held the blade. “You were in that bathroom long enough to have a real good search through your backpack. Really should carry that thing with you, you know?” She smirked. “Someone could really take advantage of you.”

One trip to the bathroom, and you were already getting trouble. You let your guard down too fast; one quiet week and you had thought you had the liberty to feel safe. Yeah, right.

“How’d you find me?” You asked, withdrawn. A bead of sweat trickled down your neck.

“Are you kidding? You leave an easier trail than the Winchesters. You're a beacon. We’ve been tracking you for weeks. Ever since you tried to interfere with poor Sammy’s Jessica,” she taunted and played with the blade. “Halos, huh? Quite the tangle you have yourself in.” Her eyes were still black to intimidate you.

And it was working. “They can kill you.”

“Don’t you think they would have if they wanted to?” She laughed. “I thought you knew the whole timeline? Knew the whole plan? Angels and demons want this apocalypse, and they want it soon. We want the same thing.”

The tightness in your chest was making it hard to breathe. “How do you… how do you even know about them? No one’s supposed to know until…”

“Wow, you really are out of the loop. You think you’re the only one special enough to get the feathery visit? We all have one on our shoulder now. Don’t you get it? Something went wrong in the first run, so they’re changing it up. Ripping up the script. The apocalypse is on, baby!”

Your vision swept in and out. Your knees were weak. You had to warn the Winchesters.

You daringly looked toward the angel blade in her hand. A grab away. Yet, she’d have you pinned in a second. You were defenseless.

“Now,” she said, smiling as she caught where your gaze was. “How about we catch ourselves a little Mary?” Then, she was pushing you toward the bathrooms with the angel blade pinching your back.

“This isn’t how I was going to—” your voice hitched as you choked on your breath. Your heart was in your throat. “No no no I’m not going to say—”

“Oh, yes you are,” she said as she shoved you into the gas station bathrooms. She pinned you up against the sink, her hand twisted up into your hair and shoved you toward the mirror. “Say it.”

You sealed your eyes and mouth shut, twisting your head away in protest.

“Fine. I’ll say it for you. Bloody Mary…”

You tensed, bracing your hands against the wall to push, but she only pressed harder until she had your nose right against the glass.

“Bloody Mary…”

You twisted your head, trying to duck away. Then, you saw the gleam in her pocket. The angel blade. You reached—

“Bloody Mary.”

You swung the blade around, smashing the hilt into her face. She felt forward, shrieking. You stabbed her in the back, her face flickered orange, and she fell to the floor like lead.

Bloody Mary watched.

You shot out of the bathroom with a hand shielding your eyes, like it would do much to prevent a bloodthirsty ghost from getting to them.

When you got out of the station, you crouched on the concrete, breathing through the panic attack that had your lungs in a unyielding knot. “Ohmygod—” you heaved into your elbow, ”Ohmygod— ohmygod— ohmygod.” Your tears smeared against your shaking arms. You were so scared that it hurt to breathe.

Mary was coming to get you, and you weren't ready.

With a shaky, hiccupy breath, you regained a little composure. With your hands still over your eyes, curled up on the pavement, you felt weak. You sobbed, terrified Mary would be standing in front of you.

“I need a plan,” you said to yourself. “I need…”

You needed the Winchesters. But why would they ever help you?

Unless…

Helium balloons.

///

The plan was so stupid that it might just work.

Except, it involved high-risk-Mary areas. First, you’d have to get in the store, second, you’d need to get into your car for your bag, and lastly, you’d need to get over to the payphone just outside the gas station. All of which had glass.

Well, wouldn’t this be freaking awesome.

You stood, your shirt over your face so that you could see nothing but vague shadows in front of you. You felt your way toward the far corner of the gas station. You tripped twice. The first time, you smacked into a rack of potato chips, which fell to the floor noisily, and the second time, you were not so lucky. The hotdog roller burned the palm of your right hand before you snatched your hand back. You cursed, cradling it to your chest.

Sobbing in pain, you finally reached the rack of balloons. You grabbed at one with a free pinky finger of your left hand. It snagged when you pulled. It was tied. Tight. You couldn't undo the knot with your burned hand, neither the one holding the shirt over your eyes. You needed to get your good hand free, and you needed something to put over your face.

Your breath was warm and stuffy against your shirt material, but you managed to fumble with it. Maybe you could use your bad arm to hold it up. Carefully, you switched out your left hand and put your right arm tight along your eyes, hissing when your tender skin brushed along your rough shirt collar. You knew the arm was going to get tired quick, so you'd just have to work quicker.

You pried the balloon of the rack with your fingernails, weaving it around your hand.

Grabbing your angel blade from your pocket, you tapped it around until you found the door handle. You grabbed it and swung it open with your knee. Blindly, you walked out of the station and toward your car, shattering the windows with the hilt of the angel blade. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The car was locked and you weren't going to fumble with the keys with your face that close to glass. No way. Not with one hand, either. This was just faster.

The contents from your bag were spilt around the seat. You grabbed your bag of salt, and John's Journal, clutching it against your chest. Now for the payphone.

You were going to need to peek.

Clutching the bag of salt to your chest in case Mary decided to make for a jumpscare, you inched your shirt down to your nose. With wide, fearful eyes, you scanned the lot.

Mary’s silhouette reflected in your car’s hood.

You scrambled back, spraying salt in her general direction, and she dispersed. You quickly placed your shirt back over your eyes, fighting the panic that was beating on your chest. That was too close.

You fumbled your way over to the payphone, smashing the glass in for good measure. You peeked at John's Journal, traced your eyes over the number, and fumbled to plug them into the payphone. Thankfully, that demon gave you some change to pay with.

It thrummed for a minute, until the voicemail rolled through. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help.”

“866-907-3235” you murmured to yourself repeatedly as you dialed the new number into the machine. It rang, and you murmured a prayer.

“Hello?”

You tongue caught in your throat before you remembered the helium. Jesus, you almost gave yourself away. You scrambled to work the tie off the balloon. You put your lips to the balloon and inhaled deeply.

“Hello? If this is a prank call…”

“It’s not,” you said, recoiling at your squeaky chipmunk voice. You probably inhaled too much. “It’s not. I need help.”

“And who is this? How’d you get this number?”

“I’m… an acquaintance of John Winchester. He gave me your number,” you said, taking another breath of helium. As stupid as this was, it could throw them off from knowing it was you. “Look, Bloody Mary is after me. I need your help.”

“Where are you? We can—”

“No, not necessary. I just need you to call Bloody Mary away. I can’t do it myself. I don’t have any mirrors.”

“What? What do you—”

“Call Bloody, you know who, and shove a mirror in her face. She’s vulnerable to her own power. She’ll kill herself. Permanently.”

“And how do I know you aren’t lying?”

“I’m not, I—” Your eyes stung. “Oh my god she’s here.” She must have been in the phone’s reflection.

The phone crinkled as the Winchesters probably moved to do as you said. The phone must have been on speaker now. “You still there?!” Dean demanded.

“Yes! Yes, I’m still—” you sobbed as your head split with pain. “I’m still here. Hurry, oh my god, please hurry.” Your voice was getting normal. You struggled to reach out for the helium again, but your eyes pricked with blood. You shouted in pain.

“We’re trying, we’re… Sammy, the mirror!” More movement came through the speaker, and suddenly there was instant relief.

The phone was silent for a second, and then Dean said: “She’s gone.”

You had finally done something right. No casualties.

“One question, though,” Dean said.

“What is it?” you asked warily.

“How’d you know we were in town?”

You froze. Frick… “Uh, I was going to call Jo—”

“Bull. You knew we were working this case. And John never answers his phone, so he didn’t tell you. Who are you?”

“No one important.” A new kind of fear crept along your spine.

“Wait a minute. Are you the stupid girl with the bag? The one that stole our dad’s journal? And yeah, don’t think we didn’t miss that. Where the hell are—?”

“I gotta go.” You slammed the phone on the stand. Your knees were jelly, and you had to brace yourself against the payphone to stand upright. You stood on the pavement for three seconds before your legs buckled like a lawn chair.

You had to get out of dodge, and this was not helping.

Hands grabbed you, and you fought them, figuring they were the Winchesters. But when you turned around, you were met with an unfamiliar face. "Who are you?" you asked, backing away.

She grabbed your burnt wrist, and blinked to show black eyes. "I'm the next demon to watch you. And just so you know, if you kill me, there'll just be another to replace me. Azazel has eyes everywhere, sweetheart." Her nails dug into your tender skin.

You sobbed, making a move to stab her, but she caught your other arm and twisted it until the blade fell on the concrete. "Nuh uh uh. Naughty girl."

You were weak. Too weak to fight against her. The more to fought, the deeper her fingers went into your burnt flesh. "Stop, please stop." You were defenseless.

An engine in the distance made hope light up in your chest. The Winchesters. They had traced your call.

"You called them? Bold move, considering their current relationship with you." She kicked at your knee, which dipped. You were practically a ragdoll.

She pulled your arms up, forcing you to stand. "Walk," she growled.

You could see the Impala in the distance. This was your shot. Right here. You panted, “Exorcizamus te... omnis... immundus… spiritus…omnis satanica potestas..."

The demon shrieked, "Don't you dare!" She wrenched you back, trying to wear you out. Her eyes flashed black.

You could see the Impala driving up the road. You kept going. "Omnis satanica potestas... omnis incursio infernalis adversarii... ah, omnis, omnis legio... o-omnis congregatio et secta diabolica-ha…"

The demon struck you over the head, shrieking, "Stop!" But she had let your hand free.

You grabbed the angel blade, and plunged it into her chest. She flashed orange, screaming. The air reeked of sulfur.

The Impala pulled into the station, and with a new wave of adrenaline, you shoved yourself over to your car, climbing in through the broken window. You needed to go-go-go-go-go—

"Hey!" Dean Winchester bellowed, charging toward you and your vehicle.

It burst with life, and you swerved out of the lot, gunning it.

The Winchesters, too late to catch you on foot, hastened their way back to their car. This was almost the closest they'd gotten to catching you, if you didn't count the airport.

And… damn it. You'd left the journal by the payphone. They must have seen it, too, because the Dean halted, backpedaling to go and grab the arguably most precious thing they owned. The last thing you saw was Sam shouting at his brother before you were clear of the area.

It would probably be safest that you lay low for a while. You’d have to ditch the car, too. Just until St.Louis. And jeez, that was going to be an even bigger mess.

Anyway, first, you had to get your burnt hand checked. You could worry about shapeshifters next week.

Hey, and maybe the whole ‘600 years bad luck’ wasn’t there any longer. Maybe, now the Winchesters had an actual shot at this.

///

Tags: @rosaren2498 , @pillowjj , @busy-bee-angel-misska , @elle-r , @dagnylokisdottir , @omg-we-really-doo , @millieccino

40 notes · View notes

quinzelade · 6 years ago

Text

Making One’s Bones (chpt 7)

Chapter List

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

Pain and Promises

Sarah dreamed of Mr. Glass again.

He pushed her down into the dirt as she tried to hold onto his legs. Bella Buttercup lay at her feet, her chipped, painted yellow face smeared with red.

“I can’t stay here,” he whispered, not meeting her eye. Sarah couldn’t believe it. He’d promised a world of toys, toys to make together.

And suddenly, he was not Mr. Glass. Sarah looked down to see herself standing at a window outside the Slog’s meeting hall. Three figures were sitting around a table. One of them was her father, another Wiseman.

The last was a tall, scarred human woman, with heavy lidded, angular eyes, and dark hair scraped back into an aggressive bun. Her skin, naturally pale, was milk white. She leaned away from the two ghouls, her chair pushed back as far as decency permitted.

Mom.

Sarah continued to watch. Her dad looked upset, but couldn’t quite meet her mother’s eye. Instead, he stared at his hands as he spoke. “We...we need a place to stay. Somewhere to keep Sarah safe.”

“All of you?” Wiseman rasped, scowling at Sarah’s mom.

“No,” she said, folding her arms and glaring back. “Just my husband and my daughter. I told you what I do. I can’t risk it.”

“Maybe we can’t risk it either,” Wiseman said crisply.

She snorted. “Don’t give me that shit. I know what you ghouls are like. You look after each other.”

“Because no one else gives a damn.”

“Then we’re agreed.” She jumped to her feet, while Wiseman looked irritated, but resigned. “Look after them. Please.” She strode away quickly, as if trying to leave before she changed her mind.

“Hon.” Sarah’s father stood up so suddenly that his chair fell over with a clatter. “Wait.”

Her mom halted at the threshold, biting her lip, but not turning around.

He stared at her back for a moment, and then dropped his gaze. “What...what do I tell Sarah?”

“Tell her I’m dead,” she said to the wall, blinking rapidly now. “And...and...” She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose and out through her mouth. “She was loved.”

Was?

“And if Sarah asks—?” her father began, but her mom’s eyes snapped open. She reached the door in two paces, shoved it open, and disappeared into the night.

Slowly, her dad sank to his knees, burying his head in his arms on the dingy table. Wiseman hesitated, then reached out and touched the other ghoul’s shoulder. Her father shook him off, scrambling up and snarling, “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re a ghoul now,” Wiseman said patiently. “Best get over the self-loathing quickly. You got a kid to raise.”

Sarah moved from the window, staring out into the darkness. She could see someone in the distance—Mom?—moving further and further away. For a second, she considered following her, but then stopped.

She doesn’t love me anymore.

Sarah woke with tears in her eyes. She blinked them away as she slowly sat up, her dream slipping through her fingers like sand. She remembered Mr. Glass, her father, and…

Sarah closed her eyes again, biting her lip. There was an ache in her heart, though she couldn’t say why. It twisted like a knife as she tried to recall the dream, sharpening as a long lost face surfaced from the mist.

“You okay, kiddo?”

Sarah jumped and turned to see Oswald sitting at his desk, pencil in hand. He set it down and frowned at her.

“Fine,” Sarah murmured, rubbing her eyes. The distraction had driven the dream completely from her mind, but she didn’t mourn the loss. It had been a bad one.

Instead, Sarah glanced around the room, trying to avoid Oswald’s gaze as she rubbed her eyes and sniffed. He’d given her a tour of Kiddie Kingdom, let her go on all the rides, and even shown her the fun house. Finally, when she’d dozed off on one of the spinning tea cups and been flung out of the ride, Oswald insisted she go to bed. He took her to his room, high in the rafters of the castle, through a hidden trap door, and told her he would sleep in the room below.

Sarah begged him to stay.

She wasn’t sure why; Sarah had never been scared of solitude before. Maybe it was because of Mr. Glass. Or the collar around her neck. Or just sheer exhaustion. The reason didn’t matter. Oswald settled himself at the desk near the bed, put on the small electric lamp, and pulled out a book. It looked like he hadn’t moved since.

Sarah’s eyes trailed across the peeling pictures on the wall, and realised they were photographs. They showed lots of people—real people—in a world that looked whole and happy. They were even smiling. One of them was tall and thin, with dark hair and a beard, wearing Oswald’s tophat and suit. Only the suit looked clean and new. Next to him was a pretty, petite woman in a light floral dress. He had his arm around her.

“You sure you’re alright?” Oswald said.

Sarah rubbed her eyes one last time, and finally looked at him. “Yeah. What are you doing?”

Oswald stared at her shrewdly for a moment, but then apparently decided not to press the matter. “Writing.” He shuffled a bunch of papers on his desk. “To my partner.”

“Partner?” Sarah blinked. “Like a girlfriend?”

He grinned. “Yeah, a girlfriend.”

“Her?” Sarah pointed to the photographs.

Oswald gazed up at them for a few seconds, a small smile on his face, his luminous green eyes drinking the pictures in. “Yeah, that’s her. Rachel.”

Sarah hesitated, a strange feeling rising up through her throat. That was her mom’s name. She swallowed with difficulty, trying to act normal, and said, “Where is she?”

“Finding a cure for...well.” Oswald turned to her. “Some of my people are ill. So she’s going to help them.”

“Is that why Pansy and Petey can’t talk?”

“Something like that.”

“Wiseman told me it’s called ‘going feral,’” Sarah said, recalling the conversation with him. Feral ghouls were only dangerous to humans, but they were nice to other ghouls. “He said it can’t be fixed.”

Oswald’s expression tightened, but he didn’t reply. Sarah thought he might be mad at her, but when he spoke again, his voice sounded calm and friendly. “I write to Rach almost every day. No mail anymore, and no idea where she is, but it feels good. Like she’s still here.”

Sarah considered the idea. She could understand trying to talk to people who had left. She’d done it herself, whispering promises into the night while her dad slept alone in his bunk. The dream, still fresh in her mind, resurfaced, and her eyes pricked again.

“Hey.” Oswald got up, walked over, and sat down on the bed. He raised a hand, as if trying to comfort her, hesitated, and then set it back on his lap. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sarah mumbled, hating the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “I just...hurt.”

That was true enough. Her body ached from her flight for her life, and particularly her legs and chest when she’d slipped and crashed into the trash can. But she didn’t want to talk about her mom. Not just now.

“Still?” Oswald frowned, gripping her arm without pause this time. The warm rush of his magic powers dulled Sarah’s pains, his glowing skin brightening until it illuminated the whole room. The warmth stayed with her even when he let go, and she sank back into the pillows, oddly content. Oswald bit his lip. “Better?”

Sarah nodded. “Thank you.”

Oswald didn’t reply for a moment. Eventually he said, “Who hurts you?”

“Raiders,” Sarah mumbled, feeling pleasantly heavy. It was hard to be upset like this. “They beat me if I don’t do my chores. Or if I get in their way. Or if I’m just there, sometimes. I think they chased me for fun yesterday. There are other people with collars too, and they get hurt as well.”

“Are they the same as you and me?”

“No. I’m the only ghoul. The only ghoul in the marketplace anyway. The new boss is one too. That’s neat.”

“Wait, the raiders have—?”

“How does the magic work?” Sarah interrupted, wondering about Oswald’s powers. Wiseman had never mentioned anything like this before.

“It heals people like us,” Oswald rasped, and for the first time Sarah noticed how hard he worked to avoid the word ‘ghoul.’ “But for everyone else, it hurts them.” His expression suddenly darkened. “And if anyone tries to hurt you again, I’ll make ‘em disappear.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Oswald paused. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.”

Sarah peered up at him, worried. “Why would you…?”

But Oswald was laughing again. “Just an old expression, kid.” Oswald held out his hand as a wilted mutfruit flower shot out from his sleeve. “Will this cheer you up instead?” He offered it to her and she took it with a small smile. It smelled like overripe tarberries.

“Thank you,” she murmured, pressing the flower to her face.

“No worries,” Oswald replied with a grin, standing up again. He returned to his desk and continued to write, shooting her concerned glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. Sarah thought about her mom, who she hadn’t seen in years. Her dad, who always tried to hide his disgust whenever they were together. He never stopped hating being a ghoul. Was it really so different to being a human? She couldn’t even remember anymore. She’d only been little when she’d turned.

“Mr. Outrageous,” Sarah said suddenly, and Oswald looked up, before bursting into laughter. Sarah blushed, and after a few seconds, laughed with him. “I mean...Oswald.”

“Yeah, kid?” he said, his smile lingering.

“Can I write to people too?” She paused, feeling stupid. “My parents. And...people I miss.”

Oswald’s expression softened. “Of course you can. Hang on.” He bustled away for a moment, returning with another pencil, paper, and a book to lean on.

Sarah took them with a smile, and waited until Oswald was seated again before bending over the paper. This was private. She didn’t want him to see. But who to talk to first? Her dad, taken away by the mutants? Wiseman, so nice and funny? Or maybe Mr. Glass?

Or…

Sarah licked her lips and put the pencil to paper, scrawling out her first words.

“Mom…”

A whole week passed under Oswald’s care. He introduced Sarah to all his friends, and showed her the inner workings of Kiddie Kingdom, from the traps in the funhouse to the sprinkler system.

“Full of radiation, see,” he said as they walked through the mist. Sarah spun around as they went, her arms outstretched, enjoying the cool, tingling feel of the water on her skin, mixed with the warmth of the radiation.

He showed her books and magazines from the Old World, toys salvaged from the rest of the park before the raiders moved in, and pressed flowers his girlfriend Rachel had made before the bombs fell. Sarah stared at them in wonder, imagining how bright they’d been when they’d first bloomed.

However, the longer she stayed with Oswald, the more she thought about the others back in Nuka World. It started as an uncomfortable presence in the back of her mind, but slowly blossomed like the long dead flowers into something sharp and overpowering.

And finally she remembered her first day in Nuka World. The awful feeling of the cold, heavy collar being snapped around her neck. The sneers of the raiders as they told her if she strayed too far, it would kill her. Then a raider dragging her to the market by her arm, a sack dripping red in his other hand. The other marketplace workers were lined up inside, on their knees and clearly scared. The raider dropped her to the floor, kicked her towards them, and then opened up the bag and tipped it upside down.

Cries of horror filled the air. Sarah turned to see a head rolling out across the floor.

“We caught this one trying to leave. Thought he could beat our collars.” The raider cracked his knuckles. “You know what that means.”

All of them had been battered. One by one, pulled out in front of the others, kicked and punched and stomped until they lay trembling on the ground. One woman even died. Sarah was last. They didn’t care if she was new. She had to know her place.

“I need to go back.”

Oswald, who had been making some sort of lunch for the two of them, lost his grip on the bowl he’d been holding. It shot out of his hands and hit the floor, shattering and spilling something he’d called ‘pancake mix’ everywhere.

He ignored this, staring at her. “No you’re not. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“But...the others.” She explained the situation at the marketplace as best she could, her voice rising frantically with her heart rate. The more she thought about it, the more she realised the danger she’d put them in. She struggled up from her chair, babbling. “If I don’t go now, someone could be hurt. Or killed! And it’ll be all my fault. All my—”

“Woah, woah!” Oswald said, kneeling down next to her. He clamped his hands on her shoulders, forcing her into the chair and holding her in place until she calmed. Then he said, “They aren’t your problem anymore, kid. You need to think about yourself.”

“I can’t!” wailed Sarah. “Mackenzie is my friend! She’s always nice to me; she looks after me! And Mr. Corbett gave me a bag of candy apples for following the new raider boss, and they let me pet Buttercup, and—”

Oswald’s expression grew uglier with every word she said, until he apparently couldn’t hold it in any longer. “They sent a little girl to spy on raiders,” he said, his voice trembling with anger, “and gave you apples as a reward?”

Sarah gaped at him, slighted. Didn’t he understand what it was like at Nuka World? What a risk it was to give away candy instead of selling it? “They were really nice apples!”

Oswald closed his eyes, as if in pain. When he opened them again, his features were fraught. “Sarah, listen to me. And really think about what I’m saying. Have any of your friends ever been as nice to you as I am?

Sarah opened her mouth to say ‘yes,’ but then stopped. She couldn’t say it, because it wasn’t true.

Oswald had been nicer to her in one week than anyone in Nuka World ever—even Mackenzie. But he was also free. The others had collars on. She knew if they’d been free too, they would be just as nice. Wouldn’t ask her to do dangerous things. Wouldn’t let her take most of the beatings…

Sarah bit her lip, trying not to cry.

“You can't go.”

“You're forcing me to stay?” she whispered, her eyes widening.

Oswald released her instantly, looking horrified. “No. I mean, maybe. I…” He stared helplessly at her. “I'm just trying to protect you. They aren't like you and me. They're outsiders. They hate us. Treat us like monsters.”

Sarah's mom flashed before her eyes.

Oswald pressed on. “You know what I mean. They take advantage of you—use you because you aren’t a person to them. They’re just giving you treats to keep you sweet and on their side, so when the hurt happens, you accept it. They are not your friends. But no matter what they say, what they do, you’re not a ‘ghoul’—you’re human, just like me.”

He gazed at her imploringly, worry etched into every line of his ruined face, though he didn't touch her again. He looked at her the way Wiseman and Mr. Glass did. The way her father hadn't. Like she was a proper person.

Oswald shook his head. “I've been here a long time. I see what those ‘normal’ humans do to us. Even the ones who aren't raiders. If you go back, they will kill you, Sarah. Stay here with me. When Rach brings the cure, all of us will look after you. No one will hurt you again.”

Sarah stared up into his green eyes, knowing he meant every word. He’d told her how long he’d been alone. He probably liked her company. Or maybe he was just a good person. But Mackenzie’s face pushed to the forefront of Sarah’s mind. Mackenzie, who could die because she had ran away.

“Promise me you’ll stay,” Oswald said, his glowing gaze burning into her. “Promise me.”

Sarah licked her lips. “I promise.” She hated herself for the lie.

His mouth turned into a sly grin. “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

Sarah blinked, and then forced a grin back. “Stick a needle in my eye.”

Oswald beamed at her.

Night fell before Sarah finally made her move. She pretended to be asleep while Oswald scratched out his letters, thinking of the stack at the edge of his desk she’d written herself. Some to Wiseman, asking how the Slog was and thanking him for teaching her to read and write properly with Deirdre. One to her dad, telling him she missed him, and how she hoped he was happier now. Two to Mr. Glass, and how sorry she was for leaving him behind.

The rest were to her mom. They were...mixed.

Sarah eased herself out of bed as Oswald’s snores filled the room. He’d laid his head on his desk and dozed off where he sat. He must have had terrible back pain all this week, but never complained once. Well now he could have his bed back. Sarah hoped Rachel would come home to him soon. She hoped he wouldn’t be lonely for long.

Like a radroach in a metro station, Sarah crept through the room, pausing only to pick up her letters. Oswald had never asked what was in them, or even tried to read them. He’d respected the rules of the letters, of who they were meant for. Tucking them under her arm, Sarah carefully lifted the trapdoor and made her way back down into the castle.

Most of the feral ghouls were asleep, or crawling around, sniffing at the floor. They didn’t notice her as she slipped by, and it wasn’t until she reached the front door that one of them looked up.

Pansy locked eyes with her, froze, and then threw back her head and let out a long, guttural howl. The other ghouls reacted instantly, doing the same.

Sarah ran.

Oswald must have told them to watch out for her. She didn’t understand how—feral ghouls were supposed to mindless! But there was no time to dwell on it. The ghouls were bounding after her, and for the first time in her life, she was scared of them.

“Sarah!”

Oswald’s voice rang out from the battlements as she burst into the courtyard. She didn’t stop, didn’t even look back. He sounded frantic...fearful. Sarah ran on, ducking out of the way and melting into the shadows. But she had to keep moving. Wiseman had never told her how well ferals could smell, and she didn’t want to find out.

A group of Oswald’s ghouls clustered around the exit, blocking her path. Sarah, moved away before they spotted her, reaching the outer wall and quickly finding a crack she could fit in. Sarah pushed herself through, drawing over some of the ghouls, who tried and failed to follow her. When Oswald caught up, she’d already made it to the other side.

“Sarah, stop!” he screamed, banging his fists on the wall.Then she heard his feet as he sprinted away towards the entrance.

Sarah gritted her teeth and darted for the nearest patch of bushes, throwing herself into them and concealing herself as best she could. By the time Oswald made it to where she was, she’d completely blended into the darkness of her surroundings.

Oswald searched for hours, calling her name over and over, firing up his magic so the green glow stretched far and wide. Each burst of energy sent a warm rush through her, and each time Oswald looked more and more exhausted. She watched him as he strayed further and further from Kiddie Kingdom, still shouting her name. Every time he did, he sounded more desperate. So desperate, Sarah almost called back. But she thought of the others waiting on her, relying on her. And so she stayed hidden and quiet.

Finally, as dawn broke over Nuka World, Oswald returned. He let out a string of swear words as he threw his hat, kicking violently at the wall. Then he leaned back against the cracked paintwork, slumping to the floor with his head in his hands.

The other ghouls came over to him, nudging him and bringing back the hat. Oswald ignored all of them, gripping tightly at his scalp. Sarah watched until the ferals drifted away, leaving him alone at the wall. She wanted to go to him, to stop him hurting the same way he had helped her.

Instead, she turned and crept through the underbrush back towards Nuka Town.

#porter gage #gage #nuka world #fallout 4 #fallout #Making One's Bones #MOB

13 notes · View notes

tysonrunningfox · 6 years ago

Text

How to Sacrifice your Lamb

Uhhh...so I’ve never done a sacrifice au and I’ve never done a “what if Hiccup didn’t shoot down Toothless” au and...apparently I have a checklist so here.

This is Berk.

Or maybe at this point, this was Berk is more appropriate.

Hiccup barely recognizes the burning village around him, despite living here his entire life. It turns out that all houses look the same after being hastily rebuilt four or five times over the past year. Right now the similarity is even more striking, as all houses definitely look the same when they’re on fire.

“Incoming!” Gobber leaps from the forge window just as a toppled torch crashes through the roof, nearly crushing him.

“You ok?” Hiccup helps him up, or tries to, it’s more like Gobber uses him as a crutch and nearly breaks his arm in the process.

“What the Hel are you doing outside?” Gobber tries to swipe the back of his head but Hiccup ducks, wiping ash from the burning forge off of his sleeve and jogging backwards. He trips on a spear and catches himself with a hop.

“I was coming to help—”

“You’re looking for that Night Fury again,” Gobber calls after him as he darts between two smoldering houses and up the hill to where he left his bolo canon during the last raid. “If your father finds out—”

“He’ll be mad at me either way,” Hiccup grumbles to himself, gulping in the fresh air above the smoke and looking out at the ship in the bay. It’s there like it always is the day after the dragons give them a break. The first time the skies were clear, his dad thought it was a miracle, but the ship appeared the next night, lobbing flaming torpedoes at them without warning.

Hiccup positions himself behind his invention, drumming his fingers on the sides where the edges of the boards he used are burned and crumbling. One thing about the village burning down so often is an abundance of scrap parts, not that his dad is happy about him taking them for something ‘nonessential’.

Everything is nonessential these days, Hiccup most of all.

“Now where are you…” He squints at the hazy air above the burning village, looking for the telltale midnight streak. When the ship is here, the dragons aren’t, except for one. “Come on…”

He feels the breeze before he hears the shout, carried on the smoky wind.

“Night Fury, get down!”

The blue lightning blast hits his house dead on and the roof catches instantly, orange flames licking down the walls and sending another gust of hot air up the side of the mountain. The ship moves then, rushing the shore, and Hiccup cringes at the sound of steel as a few Vikings clash with the invaders in the surf. One falls and he looks away, trying to count the numbers they’re up against.

He only ever sees one, and the same is true now when the Night Fury circles back around, aiming for the ship and hitting its sail, the blast going straight through and lighting Berk’s last dock on fire. The invader jumps back in their ship and it beats a jagged line towards the horizon, disappearing in the dark haze.

One wall of his house falls inward with a crash that sends the front panel skidding down the hill and Hiccup shakes his head. If he’d stayed inside like his dad told him to, he’d be flattened and on fire right now.

Shit, his dad thinks he’s flattened and on fire right now.

He scrambles back down the hill as fast as he can, stopping to cough when he hits the wall of smoke and ash at the tree-line. By the time he gets to his house, his dad is digging through the rubble, tossing a full windowpane over his shoulder like it’s a dragon scale.

“Uh, I think your Nadder head is toast, dad,” Hiccup picks up half a schematic that blows against his shins, “but maybe we can salvage your prize axe—”

“Hiccup,” his dad stops short, wasting no time on relief and launching straight into a world famous Stoick the Vast rage, the fire in his eyes matching the small spark catching in his beard. “You were supposed to stay inside!”

“If I had, that wouldn’t have worked out very well for me,” he gestures at the ruins of their house, “I know I’m a little scrawny for your taste, but I do enjoy being three-dimensional.”

Hiccup is never in more trouble than when he’s right.

“Is this a joke to you?” His dad booms, stomping across the remains of a bed or a chair, the charred wood fleeing in front of his furious feet. “Don’t I have big enough problems without losing track of you every five minutes?”

“Sure, Dad, next time I’ll stay put.” He steps onto the fallen wall and then instantly jumps off when it’s scaldingly hot through the soles of his boots. “Right under the smoldering remains of our house—”

“Stop! Just stop! This isn’t something you can talk your way out of,” his dad isn’t tall enough to pick him up by the collar of his shirt anymore, but it looks like he’s about to try and Hiccup stumbles back, “you can’t follow the simplest orders—”

“Get smashed, sure, I could have followed that, I don’t remember you saying it though—”

“If you spent as much time trying to help the village as you do trying to undermine me,” he sighs, anger rushing out of him like a slap Hiccup would have preferred, “maybe I could trust you. You’re eighteen, Hiccup, I keep waiting for you to outgrow this—”

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Maybe I did,” he bends down and picks up a charred sword out of the pile of rubble, “maybe this is all there is.”

Hiccup blinks back a tear he can blame on smoke, but his dad isn’t looking, “is this a good time to tell you that your beard is on fire?”

00000

The morning after the attack, the village wakes up to a pair of monstrous nightmares sneaking away with about half the flock of sheep Berk has left, and Hiccup’s dad takes Gobber and a few others to Freezing to Death to get some answers. If Berk is the only place dealing with the mysterious boat, it’s probably a foreign threat and given how the supply stores are looking after the last attack, it’s probably time to take action.

Stoick the Vast says goodbye without a vast amount of fanfare, just a reminder that Spitelout is in charge and a frosty look at Hiccup, telling him to behave.

It’s a pleasant surprise that Snotlout doesn’t start his usual bragging about being acting heir, or at least it is until Hiccup realizes why. Snotlout looks scared. The twins do too. Fishlegs would be terrified if he weren’t in the glorified tarp acting as a healer’s hut, having burns treated from his house falling down on him.

He stayed inside and look at where that got him.

Hiccup hates how the thought isn’t as triumphant without his dad around to react to it.

After a couple of days of rebuilding while fending off pesky Terror attacks around the edges of the village, the skies clear again and the boat appears on the horizon. Hiccup barely has time to get up the hill to his canon before the torpedoes start, somehow more destructive without houses to take the brunt of them. The night fury makes one appearance, chipping a helmet horn off of the statue in the bay, but it’s too far away for Hiccup to take a shot.

The healer’s tent is full the next day and Spitelout calls a partial council meeting in what’s left of the hall, fading sunlight streaming through a hole blown in the roof. There’s plenty to burn though, and Hiccup tosses a scrap of wood on the fire when he walks in, staring at the row of half occupied council seats. Snotlout is next to his dad but it’s not clear whether he’s hiding or planning on voting, so it’s not quite jealousy that makes Hiccup step up to one of the other empty chairs.

Maybe it’s what his dad said about helping the village. He can do that if it doesn’t mean following arbitrary orders that don’t make sense or adapt. And if he proves he can help, maybe his dad will stop with the orders.

“We’ve tried fighting,” Spitelout starts, his voice more of a cornered growl than a boom.

“We haven’t really.” Someone in the audience calls back from an improvised bed sheet stretcher.

“We’ve tried fighting,” Hiccup, for the first time in his life, mimics Spitelout. He gestures at the bandaged group in the back corner of the damaged hall, “it didn’t work out.”

Hiccup doesn’t flinch when the crowd rejects—no riots at—his contribution. He’s used to it, it’s fine.

“Of course Hiccup doesn’t want to fight.”

“He probably has some invention he thinks will save us.”

“Yeah, what’s your bright idea Hiccup?”

Some of the highlights break through the general sounds of a mob approaching violence in the wrong direction and Hiccup almost wishes he hadn’t said anything. Almost, because if he hadn’t, people would have forgotten he was here entirely and that’s never a comfortable sensation, but he still really wishes he’d thought of two things to say before opening his mouth.

“Umm…”

“Um,” Spitelout shakes his head, “the future chief of Berk—“

“Hey, right now I’m future chief of Berk,” Snotlout puffs his chest out and it makes him look shorter. Spitelout ignores him entirely but he continues anyway, “and I have an idea.”

“That’s a first,” Hiccup snorts.

“It’s more than you have,” Snotlout jabs his finger at Hiccup and looks at the crowd for a second, paler when he notices they’re all looking at him. Hiccup would tell him he should have thought through speaking if he thought Snotlout was capable of that kind of mental exercise.

“Well go ahead then, dazzle us all with your brilliance.”

“Fine, I will.” Snotlout clears his throat, “I saw the person from that ship last night and it’s a girl.”

“You need to get your eyes checked, boy-o, there’s no way a woman is responsible for this kind of destruction,” Spitelout rolls his eyes.

“No, it wasn’t a woman, it’s a girl. A hot girl,” Snotlout grins, “so what if we sent me out there to talk some sense into her? You know, lay the groundwork for a long and thriving friendship.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Hiccup shrugs.

“He does have a point,” Spitelout mimics Hiccup’s sentiment for the first time ever and Hiccup begins to seriously question his choices.

“Really?” Snotlout stops short, confused by the approval like he is about everything.

“Well, yeah, you’d be getting murdered on a boat and we all wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore—“

“You won’t be going anywhere, son,” Spitelout claps his hand on Snotlout’s shoulder, “it’s not a woman. But sending someone out there as a peace offering is something we haven’t tried.”

“What, like a human sacrifice?” Hiccup has never so acutely wished for his dad’s uniquely demoralizing brand of common sense.

“Take Ruffnut,” Tuffnut offers from the front row, “I always knew having a spare Thorston would come in handy.”

“We aren’t sending a human sacrifice out there, that’s insane,” Hiccup tries but the crowd turns on him again, yelling about how he was the one who thought fighting wasn’t working in the first place. A particularly witty villager suggests putting him in a dress and sending him out there and Hiccup feels a flicker of the desperate fear driving everyone else into such a flurry.

The village is gone, there’s not much time to rebuild before winter and their numbers are dwindling.

Hiccup has never so acutely wished for his dad.

“What’s in it for me?” Ruffnut asks and he can see that she’s scared too, but the dangerous kind of scared people become when presented with a difficult solution to an overwhelming problem. The brave kind of scared that Hiccup sees but doesn’t feel. The kind of scared that makes him feel like less of a Viking.

He’s always the problem, never the solution.

“You get to be the human sacrifice,” Snotlout pouts, equal parts relieved and miffed to be out of the spotlight, “you get to talk down the invaders and save the village and be a hero and get la—“

“Maybe he’ll let you shoot that huge canon thing he has,” Tuffnut shrugs and Ruffnut considers that for a second.

“And it’ll save everybody?” Ruffnut looks around, “I mean, I’ve never been one to get in the way of mass destruction but…”

“They got our yak, sis, I think…it’s ok to say this has gone pretty far.”

“Ok, I’ll do it.”

“You volunteering makes the next part easier, but as Acting Chief, I will say it wasn’t explicitly necessary.” Spitelout wields his iron fist like a hammer instead of dragging it behind him like an anchor.

The next night the skies clear and Spitelout orders Ruffnut to the splintered end of the practically still smoldering dock in a white linen dress with her hands tied behind her back, arms bound to her sides. Watching from the shore at the base of the dock with the sunset around her, it reminds Hiccup of a wedding, a thought that makes his stomach churn with the desperate need to stop it.

Someone should be saying no. Someone should do something.

He’s known Ruffnut his entire life and the thought that the village can cast her out into something dangerous so easily makes him wonder what else they would do. He knows their survival is in the balance but that doesn’t make this any less surreal or uncomfortable.

The ship appears from the east, gliding across the water, its sail patched from the Night Fury blast with what looks like a cloak of some kind, rough edges of the stitches flapping in the wind and showing small gaps that make it wobble. The invader walks back to the canon, aiming it upwards and Hiccup flinches prematurely, waiting for the blast, but the invader pauses, evidently spotting Ruffnut.

The ship turns instantly, heading straight for the end of the ruined dock. The invader jumps off, landing silently, deftly twirling an axe and pushing a heavy furry hood off of their head.

Her head.

She’s beautiful and furious and young, her cheek smudged with soot as she glares blue fire at the looming crowd and raises her axe over her head, aiming it at Ruffnut’s back. Then all Hiccup can think of is blood on linen and Spitelout’s silence. He must have known it could go this way and he went ahead with it, putting anyone else’s neck on the line before his own.

That’s not what chiefs do.

“Wait!” He yells, stumbling forward along the dock and wishing he were faster. Stronger. More. Anything that would get him there before that axe falls. “Wait! Don’t hurt her!”

The invader looks at him incredulously, glare softer but no less bright in its confusion. He holds his hands out, for once glad about how fierce he doesn’t look. He’s not a threat, he’s just a token, a hope, the future of Berk spent strangely and too soon.

Hey, maybe this is finally a situation he can talk his way out of.

“Take me, just…kill me and be done with it. I’m the chief’s son, you don’t have to involve anyone else. Kill me and you win.”

Her eyes dart between him and the looming crowd behind him, and he has enough time to realize that she’s smaller than her presence, shorter than him and the same age. Her hands are rough and sure around the handle of her axe but the curve of her cheek is soft, fragile under an expression carved from granite.

She doesn’t look like a sadist, not that Hiccup knows many sadists other than apparently Spitelout. He hopes she’ll make this quick.

The whispers in the crowd behind them rise, the theme becoming clear in a rasp of steel, the menacing sound of swords being unsheathed. She’s just one girl and she’s off her ship, the wicked ship that’s dealt so much damage.

She raises her axe, something apologetic flashing across her eyes as she brings it down and everything goes dark.

#httyd fic #httyd #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #kind of sacrifice au #hiccup never shot down toothless au #bratcup #vigilantestrid

82 notes · View notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

Text

Cool Party the Other Night

Author: Thieving-Gypsy

Year: 2010

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Howard/OFC

It's a few days after Howard's birthday party, and Vince is still courting that girl he met. Well. "Courting" doesn't cover it, really. Howard winces at a particularly loud moan from upstairs, the creak of bedsprings and the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of the headboard against the wall. If that's chipped the paint and they have to redecorate, Vince better not think that's coming out of petty cash. No sir, that's coming directly out of Vince's hairspray budget. Let's see how smug he is then, Howard thinks, feeling quite smug himself at the thought of getting one over on him. It doesn't last. There's a giggle from upstairs, it could be coming from either one of them. Howard slumps against the counter, propping his chin on his hand and wondering which deity he could have offended to make his life like this. If this is karma, karma is wrong. He's fiercely intelligent, devilishly handsome, his talents are many and varied, his sense of humour is witty and whimsical, he helps old ladies across the road and then helps them back again when they hit him with their handbags and snap that they never wanted to cross the road anyway. Howard Moon is a good person (Howard thinks to himself) but where's the payoff? Vince is the one who ends up risking friction burns on his johnson, even after all his crimes against good taste and that shocking ridiculous scene on the roof the night of the party where he took advantage of Howard's good nature to save his own neck. The only thing Howard got was a night spent terrified and crying in the bottom of the airing cupboard hoping Old Gregg would get bored of waiting and go away, but every time he opened the door to check Gregg was there tapping his foot and smiling and staring like a serial killer. I can wait all night, Howard, I'm Old Gregg! he said, as if that explained it all. Naboo kicked him out eventually with the rest of the party stragglers, then gave Howard a disgusted look and called him a batty crease when Howard awkwardly bought him a bunch of flowers the next morning to say thank you. It's a good thing the shop's been so quiet lately. Customers don't need to hear this kind of nonsense when they're innocently looking for a rare Bleedin' Gums Murphy LP, it's just not professional. Or maybe they would like it, but that sort of clientele doesn't belong here anyway. You've got to keep a sense of pride when you're a shopkeeper. Even in a dodgy part of town, even if the last customer you saw buying something was a wide-eyed teenage boy paying for Vince's autograph three days ago, you still need your pride or you might as well be dead. He sort of wishes he was, listening to those dirty noises get louder and faster for what feels like the billionth cycle. And then the bell above the door rings, sounding like a hallelujah. A girl comes into the shop. An angel with black and red hair and skin like smooth pale cream. Howard stands up quickly and adjusts his hat to a rakish charming sort of angle, smoothing down the front of his shirt and giving her his very best smile. She looks sort of frightened then. Well, that's not unusual, she probably saw something unpleasant outside. It's that sort of street. "Good afternoon madam," he starts – then all of a sudden he recognises her from that ghastly spin the bottle game at the party and feels himself turn pale. She had a number eight stuck on her back, and she heard Naboo trick Howard's confession out of him. Could his life get any more tragic and painful? Yes, he discovers, because she recognises him too. "Hey, Howard," she says. He can't tell whether she's smirking or smiling. "Cool party the other night." "Ha ha, yes, it was rather, wasn't it? Ha ha. I hope you tried the quiche, I made it myself."

"Oookay." Surely it's a smile. She's coming closer, anyway, right over to where Howard is, putting the silver jacket she's carrying on the counter between them. What does it mean? Is it some sort of offering? Is this how women offer themselves? He feels the blood rise back in his cheeks, but then she speaks again and ruins it. "Vince gave me that to borrow cos it was cold walking home, can you give it back to him? When he's finished," she adds, glancing at the ceiling. She really is smirking this time, and that strikes him as very odd. Isn't she jealous? Most girls would be jealous and go running out of the shop weeping and talking about nunneries because there's no point any more if Vince has found someone else. Maybe he's in with a shot after all! Howard smooths his moustache with his fingertips, very glad he put on his best taupe rollneck this morning even without a special occasion planned. Surely that's fate. Serendipity. Something. He can see them already, blissfully content in a country cottage, all crawling honeysuckle and chirruping birds, making sweet fulfilling love together every night while the children sleep soundly and dream of happy things and a team of editors go back to college to train for different careers because the world-famous novelist-poet-playwright Howard Moon's words are so perfect, so incredibly gripping, informative and rich with life-changing meaning, that he needs no changes made at all. He realises he's nodding his head like a dog ornament on the back shelf of a car, and makes himself stop. "Of course, madam, of course, I'll see that he gets it post-haste." "Cheers." Eight gives him that smile again and turns round to go. Howard panics and bangs into a shelf in his rush to get out from behind the counter and block her way. "While you're here, might I interest you in the soothing jazz tones of-" "No. I don't think you might." "Well then, what about..." Everything in the shop is shit it's all shit and he hates it here and his life should have been so different and why does nothing ever ever ever go right? "This lovely flying jacket? Vintage World War Two, genuine bullet hole in the collar to add that bit of authenticity and you can barely even see the bloodstains, ha ha ha..." She actually laughs at that, it bubbles up and spills out and she looks like it surprises her but it's a definite laugh. "You're a crack up, Howard, you're hilarious. I didn't bring any money. I might come back another time though and you can show me someone's torn parachute or a charred ejector seat that didn't open properly." Is that a date? That sounds very much like a date. Howard's palms feel sweaty on the sleeve of the jacket and he carefully hangs it back on the hat stand where he found it so he doesn't leave handprints. "I would like that very much indeed, shall we say next Tuesday?" "Seriously, Howard, I've got to go." But why would she be lingering and saying she had to go instead of just going if she didn't find him intriguingly attractive? Today is turning out to be a roaring success after all. "Then please allow me to escort you home," he says, formally on purpose so he doesn't scare her away with his aggressive manliness or sound like the sort of sexual predator who would pester a young woman when she's just trying to run a simple errand. "This is no place for an innocent young lady to be walking on her own when it's getting dark, especially one as, I hope you don't mind me saying, charmingly beautiful as you." Eight looks out the cluttered shop window into the bright afternoon sunlight. After what feels like forever she turns back and almost gives Howard a heart attack. "Yeah. Alright, then."

"...Yes?" he repeats stupidly, and Eight grins like a wicked little pixie. "Yeah. Why not." "Oh. Well. Alright then. Let's go, shall we?" That hussy upstairs is shrieking Vince's name. So is Vince, the vain little tart. Howard doesn't even leave a note. If they ever satisfy themselves and come downstairs for a cup of tea, they're just going to have to worry themselves sick about where Howard's disappeared to in the middle of a working day. He flips the door sign to closed and follows Eight out into the grimy street. He's trying to work out whether he should put a safe guiding gentlemanly hand on the small of her back when she glances up at him sideways and says, "So... you're a virgin, then?" * "Not any more," Howard's gasping half an hour later. Eight looks at him with raised eyebrows. "What?" "Not a virgin any more." "Howard, mate. You're fingering me, you're not having sex." It happened all at once, it seemed, time-lapse flashes like a nature documentary about the sprouting of a seed: one moment they were walking through Dalston, the next he was accepting the offer of a cup of tea, the next she was lying back on the couch with her legs over his and her dress hitched up around her waist, pushing her black cotton knickers aside and holding his hand at the wrist to direct him where to touch. His head is a blur, he feels slightly sick – not because it's not nice, because it is, but because he always thought men were supposed to be the ones desperate for sex on a first date and the women were bashful modest flowers. Eight's got her hand over his, pressing on top of his fingernail and moving in little circles over the wet, warm flesh between her legs. He can't see what he's doing, her pants and their hands are on the way, but that's probably a good thing because he's tenting up the front of his trousers already and he is so not ready for this to be over yet. "Do it like that," she says, a little bit flushed, a little bit breathless. "Right there. Good. A bit faster... good. Oh." Is this what's supposed to happen? Don't things go inside when you're having sex? Is she – oh god – another freakish anomaly like Old Gregg? Actually, it's hard to care any more. So what if she is? She's still pretty, and she's willing to let him touch her when the whole world seems to be against the idea of him having any sort of nice time at all. She's perfect. "Take my pants off," she says. Howard scrabbles to obey as quickly as possible, pulling them down her legs and stretching the leg holes over her boots. It's like a new world underneath, dark curling little hairs and wet pink flesh. It's horrific. She's got to be a freak, there's no way Vince would get so excited about something that's so vile to look at. But it's too late to stop now, the hand around his wrist is directing him lower down and pressing until his first finger slips inside her. He makes a ridiculous unmanly sort of noise in his throat, shame and desire all tangled together,and Eight bends one leg up to rest on top of the cushion behind Howard's head, spreading her monstrosity wider. He takes the initiative and slides another finger in beside the first, so she blinks and looks at him in surprise then flashes a filthy curling little smile and sighs quietly, like a happy moan. "Nice. How big's your dick?" "Excuse me?" Howard splutters, blushing furiously. "Just asking. Because I can take another finger if you want, but if your dick's smaller than three fingers I'll be upset so maybe you shouldn't." "Let me assure you, madam, my-" He can't make himself say it. "-my equipment is perfectly adequate for the job at hand, so to speak."

"Alright then, let's have it." She pushes his hand away suddenly and stands up, leaving the room without looking back like she just expects him to follow her. He gets hit in the face with something as he's going through the bedroom door; it's her dress, she just pulled it off over her head and now she's reaching behind herself to unhook her bra and sitting down to unzip her boots. She gives him that look again when she's on the bed, naked on her back with one knee up and her foot flat on the mattress. She's doing to herself what he was just doing, gently stroking between her legs with her fingertips, biting her painted lower lip and catching her breath in her throat. Howard feels horrendously out of place. Future wife or not, something about this feels very strange and wrong indeed. Her displaying herself like a common tramp and caressing her abnormality like it's a beloved pet while Howard stands there mutely, fully-clothed including a straw hat and holding her crumpled dress. "Let me help you out," she says, still circling gently with her first two fingertips and smirking. "The next step is, you take off your clothes. Time-lapse again. It seems to take a nanosecond, then he's standing there with his hands protecting his modesty. It's a good thing he's got big hands, he thinks proudly, then that terror stabs back in his guts and he freezes like he's on stage. "Come here," Eight says, gradually breaking through with her calm voice and cool instructions. "Move your hands away, let me see you. Come and get on the bed. It's okay to touch me. Shall I show you what you do?" He just nods, moving as directed but still completely unable to think up the right words to say to somebody who's got her hand wrapped around his bits and pieces – his bits and pieces, he thinks crazily, she's touching his balls, why would anybody do that? But it feels good, he can't deny that, it's sending white-hot floods of goosebumps rushing over his skin and even if he's got no words he can still make noises, strange pathetic little whimpers and trembling pleas for things he doesn't know the details of. Eight pushes him back so he's lying against the pillow, pointing up like Excalibur, but she stops stroking him so she can straddle his legs and roll a condom on, and knee-walks a few steps up the mattress, holding him steady there so she can sink down around him. It's hot and tight and completely overwhelming. Howard's vision blurs and he feels like he's going to faint but then Eight grabs his nipple and pinches hard, dragging him back. He stares at her, feeling vaguely abused, but she just smiles sweetly and holds his hands to bring them to her hips. "Now you're having sex." "And... this is normal, is it?" he mumbles, hypnotised by the sight of his thingy disappearing up her when she raises and lowers her body above his. It makes her laugh, shaking her dyed red fringe out of her eyes and tipping her head back like she's reading something interesting on the ceiling. "The man's normally a bit more involved, but yeah, close enough." "I can get involved," Howard says desperately, "I can, let me show you-" His words turn into a choking sort of moan when she moves again. It's so obvious now how it's meant to be, he can do this, it's simple, it's the most natural thing in the world... Eight lets him turn them over so she's the one on her back, and Howard slips almost all the way out of her and drives back in hard. She moans just like Vince's floozy moaned, and like it's some kind of trigger: Howard shivers all over and comes, thrusting frantically into her and whimpering.

It's quiet after. He can't move, he stays there on top of her, stroking his fingers through her hair and feeling a slow lazy smile spread across his face. Nothing matters any more, not the teasing pitying looks at the party, not Vince's complete lack of shame and self-control and regard for other people's feelings, nothing – Howard's got a girlfriend, and life is wonderful. "Um," she says after a while. "Yes, my darling?" Howard murmurs, loving how much he sounds like Clark Gable or one of those other smooth manly charmers from old romance films. "Get off me, yeah?" "Oh. Sorry." He rolls onto his back hastily. It's no wonder she can't bear to be touched after such a mindblowing experience, she's probably feeling vulnerable, she's probably struggling to come to terms with the reality of it. "Is there anything you need, darling, can I do anything for you?" "Yeah, just pull the front door shut behind you on the way out, it should lock on its own." What? "...what?" "And tell your darling mate Vince if he's really sick and sad enough to keep my knickers even when he's shagging other girls then I'll stop hassling him to get them back, and let him know in as much detail as you want that I'm not waiting round for him either." "Oh." It's not so much a flash of realisation as a falling anvil. "This was... revenge?" The imaginary honeysuckle house burns down to rubble before his eyes and Eight just laughs, carefree and oblivious like Vince, like everyone else. Howard slowly starts to get dressed and decides to set up a permanent home in the airing cupboard, where it's safe and dark.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #howard moon #vince noir #howard moon/OFC

1 note · View note

imawhoreforkpop · 6 years ago

Text

Color of his eyes

Wonho (Monsta x) x Reader

Genre: angst, break up au

Warnings: slight cussing and Cheating

Word count: 3.3K

Summary: Winter can be beautiful to some but to others it's a painful reminder of what they used to have.

A/n: Oof this was a pain to type but i hope y'all will enjoy it, also please feel free to leave feedback.

If I had told myself that my life as I used to know it would dramatically change at the snap of his fingers. I would have been in denial, I would have told you he loved me and wouldn't do anything to destroy what we had. But that’s exactly what he did 6 months ago, the memory of that night still haunts me when I'm laying in bed at night, when I'm laughing with my friends, even when I'm doing simple tasks such as washing my dishes he was glued to my brain, a ghost I could never escape, always lingering around never once leaving me alone.

I asked myself why can't I move on, why do I still hold on to those words he said to me that cold winter night? I always seem to land on the exact same answer every time. I gave him everything, I gave him my heart, he wasn't my first love but it felt as if he was made just for me. He was perfect in every way; his soft black hair that I loved running my hand through on nights I couldn't sleep, his plump lips the I kissed good morning and goodnight, his hands that fit in mine like a puzzle piece. His arms that held me close on cold nights, his smile that lit up an the entire room in seconds and his beautiful brown eyes, they were warm like hot cocoa on a snowy day. Even though he was my everything, heart and soul, in the end he didn't feel the same.

I wish I would have had paid attention to the signs but I was blinded by love, blinded to the cold reality. Our relationship had lasted 3 years, we met at a coffee shop I was working on 18th Street. He made me feel alive, he made me feel wanted. We had only been talking for a few months before dating but everything felt right, it feel like we were destined to be together, I remember our first date as if it just happened yesterday. He had taken me to a movie he had been dying to see for the longest time, it was the first time I truly listened to his laugh and it made me feel blissful to see him bubbling with life. His large hand grabbing a hold of mine, a simple action, yet made my stomach filled with butterflies. He walked me home that night, were we shared our first kiss at my door, his lips gently touching mine causing my heart pounded hard against my chest. His cologne flooded into my nose reminding me of Christmas day, that snowy day was our beginning to love and heartbreak.

I told him that I loved him four months into the relationship, and he had told me he fell in love with me the first day he laid eyes on me. Our relationship was like a match, burnt brightly but died out right underneath my fingertips. Seemed that he loved me one day and the next he was walking out of my life. I always ended up dwelling on our memories always wondering what went wrong or where it had gone wrong.

It was our first Christmas together, we were sat around a fake Christmas tree that was decked out in ornaments of all kinds, the smell of gingerbread and Pine danced around the air, as gifts passed around to one another, and bold colors popped out at every corner. His eyes showed kindness and love, lighting up at everything around him. An smile plastered his face as his arms surround me with warmth while he softly placed a kiss my forehead as we swayed to the music that flooded into our ears. Out of nowhere he picked me up and started swirling me around the living room, giggling at his sudden action, his long fingers push my hair out of my face so he could see me properly, I felt him softly grab my face bring it closer to his, resting his forehead against mine. “I love you, Y/N.” his voice softly called out to me. “I love you too.” I pull him towards me closing the gap between us, capturing his lips with mine. Remembering this moment it for what it was, remembering him. A tear roll down my cheek without me knowing, quickly wiping it away before any of my coworkers saw, I'd only worked here at the small Cafe called Moonlight for a few months, I had ran away from everything when he had left, I had moved cities, change jobs, and even got new friends.

In fear that everything would remind me of him, in fear that I would fall worse than hitting rock bottom. This Cafe became my own version of a safe haven, smell of brewed coffee, soft music that was the type that reminds you of rainy days, and regulars that come in with a smile on their face. I've had made good friends with one of those regulars an little old man named John. His struggles, his pain, his stories help me feel not so alone. Making me see that I can move on one day from the pain he caused me. The sound of a bell snapped me out of my thinking, dusting my hands off on the red apron while placing a smile on my face as I walk towards the counter where the customer was standing. “Hi, How may I help you ma’am?” I asked the tiny black-haired woman, the woman looks up at the chalk written menu, “Can I have 2 salted caramel lattes, one poppy seed muffin, and…” she looks at the baked goods, thinking of what else she wanted,”and an chocolate chip muffin.” her voice was high-pitched, try my best not to get annoyed at the doe eyed person, “ sure thing, $10.50 please.” I fake a smile holding my hand out for the money, “Really,$10 for this?” she scoffs before handing (more like tossing) me the money before storming off over to the table by the window. Rolling my eyes at the rude customer as I walk over to the machines to make her order, as a few minutes passed, I placed the order on the counter, “ order number five please come up” I holler out, “ my name is Polly.” she sneers at me, “sorry, ma'am.” I gave her a small smile before going towards other customers waiting for me to take their orders, after the hoard die down, my favorite customer popped up.

“ hey John, what can I get you today!” I greet the tiny man, “ hello dear, a plain black coffee like always and one of those carrot cakes” he gummy smiles, “$4.50.” I tell him, “Here you go, Hun” he say as he hands me the money. “ so what have you been up to John?” I gently ask while making his coffee,” just been painting.” he continues on with what he started saying, you should stop on these days and I'll paint Peanut Butter for you.” smiling at the thought of my small Cuddle Bear of a dog sitting there getting his portrait painted, “ I'm sure Peanut Butter will love the attention, just let me know when is a good time to stop by.” I hand him his daily order, “can you sit with me dear?” he asks me, “Of course! My shift just ended just let me to clock out real quick, okay?” he nods, I head back to the break room grabbing my coat and purse before clocking out for the day, walking towards my friend, taking the seat across him. “So how's your dog, Sugar?” I look at him, “She's good, sleeps all the time but I still love that silly old dog!” he smiles as he talks about his companion. “Glad to hear that, we should set up a doggie play date..” His face lit up from my offer, “That's a wonderful idea!” He beams in happiness, “well thank you for talking with me dear, I need to go before it starts raining.” He pats his lap, “see you Monday, John!” I yell out to him. “Have a good weekend!” he waves at me before going out the door. Still sitting were me and John had just chatted a moment ago, I look out the window to see the clouds rushing in over at the lively city, I used to hate the rain I felt like it hit the beauty of the sky. But now I take refuge under the dark clouds, the rain making my weary skin wet washing away the day. The rain shows me that even the sky needs to cry. I sigh getting up and pushing in the cedar wood chair, heading out towards the glass doors into the never ending city, Zombie-like I head towards the bus stop, waiting for my ride home to pick me up, The rain started to pour down upon us, watching people of all ages run towards shelter. I softly laugh because only 6 months ago I did the same thing now I just soak in the Earth's tears, letting it claim me.

After the 20 minute drive I arrive home to my small run down apartment, sluggishly walking through the entrance to my living room, I was greeted by a happy puppy, my world stops for a moment to greet my best friend. The small dog was a light tan covered in a fluffy coat, his ears were tiny but soft to the touch and his love was never ending. I had found Peanut Butter the day I had just moved here, he was scared not knowing where to go or who to go to. He reminds me a lot of myself, we're both trusted someone that had hurt us and tossed us out to the wolves. I scooped him up of the box he had been living in for god know how long. Since I saw him , I knew that this small puppy had saved me from the world that had hurt me. PB started barking at me, begging me to pay attention to him then what I was currently doing. Saturday had rushed in before I knew it, the sun screaming at me to wake up and start the day. PB patting at my face to get me moving, “I’m up, I'm up!” rolling onto the floor, to get ready for PB morning walk. “Do...you...wanna..go..for..a walkie!” I hype him up, snapping the leash into his blue collar. Heading out the door with my jumping happy-go-lucky dog by my side. Autumn had properly arrived, colorful leaves falling around us, wind making the naked tree dance to the rhythm. My dog's paws is hitting the leaf covered sidewalk, an sound that became my comfort zone what had replaced the beat of his heart. The brightly yellow sign for PB’s dog park reaching our view, PB feet going faster than his body. “Whoa, there bud!” I laugh at my puppy's eagerness to meet new friends. I open the chain linked gate letting him loose to run and play as he pleads. Going toward my normal spot, a wooden bench under a cherry blossom tree, pulling out a book to read to only getting half way through when a voice snapped my attention it remind me of him, my stomach drops, my walls feel as if they'll crumble down.

The door slams open, making me jump up into a sitting position from the sofa that I had been laying on. “Hey, what's wrong?” I gently ask him, “I can't do this anymore.” He paces around our living room. “Do what?” my voice trembles in fear. “This.” he takes a deep breath as if he was going to snap at any given moment. “What do you mean by “This”’ I stand up, trying to stay calm. His eyes piercing through my soul, I tried to reach out for him but he moves away from me as if I were disgusting. “I don't love you, I haven't for a while”, I felt as if the whole world was crashing around me. “How could you do this to me!” i throw my hands up, “To us!” I angrily snap “It happened so fast that I couldn't stop it, but at the same time I didn't want to.” he defends himself. Tears flood into my eyes, “I've been seeing someone else.”, “How long?” I weep, “A few months.”, “I loved you” I sob, He pushes past me, “I think I’m in love with her Y/N.” He looks down not wanting to see my face as he leaves our apartment. I break down against the door not knowing what to do or who to go to. The love of my life just walked out of my life, my life soon became my worst nightmare. Knowing he'll be back to get his stuff, I decided not wanting to be home I packed up all my clothes and a few personal belongings, before I took off into the night, catching the first bus to take me out of this hellhole. Feeling my heart break even more as I say goodbye to the town that I built so many memories within and set off for a new start, without him. Feeling myself wanting to break down as I began to look for the owner of the voice. Failing to find where it had came from, I begin calling my dog over to me wanting nothing more than to leave.

“PB come here baby!” I yell out as my dog runs towards me happily. “let's go, Hun.” picking up my dog before taking off, trying to get away from the voice and wanting to hide from it. Collapsing onto my cheap bed as I shut my eyes while taking a deep breath. “You were doing so well.” I whisper to myself as the tears nearly spill out, “Why can't I just move on from Him, PB” I mourn to my dog, He whines as he curls up against me. “You're right” petting him, laying in bed for the rest of the night. Sunday went by as normal other than I had decided to walk PB somewhere new, to void breaking down again, and then taking him to get a hot-dog to make him forgive me on bailing out on his park.

~2 months later~

Clocking in for what felt like the hundredth day in the row, Snow laid all around the outskirt of the small shop. Christmas is right around the corner and the cafe saw new people as they visited their families. Setting out the fresh baked goods for the ongoing day as we waited for the people to stop by, I could already tell today was going to be a slow day. People coming in here and there, nothing too interesting. Jess, my coworker started telling me about the latest gossip,”So you know that girl named Polly who gave you attitude, well she came in with here with this guy who I'm assuming is her boyfriend. Was asking for you.”, “What For?” rolling my eyes, “She wanted to give you a piece of her mind for giving them “Shit” Coffee.” Jess informs me “ I only served her coffee three times and I know it wasn't “shit” coffee.” I started to feel annoyed. “Her boy-toy seems like he was wrapped around a leash.” She laughs, “Pussy-whipped for sure” I join laughing with her. Jess made the boring day more bearable, She made me laugh on days I thought I couldn't, She was like family away from family. She knew everything that happened between me and him, she was there for me when no one else was.

“Hey, You wanna come over to my house for Christmas?” I ask will scrubbing the round tables, “Hell yeah!” she pops up from behind the baked good case. “Christmas Traditions will start with me now.” She smiles, the bell rings loudly throughout the cafe, seeing Polly standing there, “ you're Y/N, right?”, “Why? Are you needing something?” I stand up straight looking down at her, “Yes, I’m here to tell you that your coffee is the worst I've ever had!” She yells at me, “Sorry Ma'am” I look at her before walking away, “Don't like my coffee then don't come in when I'm working, It's simple as that.” I say to her in a voice laced in annoyance. “whatever.” she storms off to a guy waiting outside for her, they linger outside for a few minutes, talking about something that clearly made her “Boyfriend” upset. “I bet you, they won't last more then 6 months.” Jess comments at the drama happening outside. “Christmas Joy, am I right.” as I watch her flip the sign to tell people we're closed for the night. “They're still arguing, Dude.” Jess tells me while dragging a yellow bucket from mopping the floor, “wow, what a lovely couple. Seems like they belong together.” I laugh at the thought of “true love” as I finishing up the cleaning for the night. I begin to head home after the long day, the snow rushing down around me and the winter wind harshly brushed against me, making my face flush with red. Wishing I had brought a thicker jacket to block out the bitter cold, last-minute deciding that I didn't want to ride the crowded bus, even though it was freezing cold out. Wanting to get a fresh breath of air to escape for a little and become one with nature for a short moment. Coming across a small park, a few blocks from my place, my heart telling me to go towards the playground, I head towards the swing set, the cold metal touching my skin and plastic sea covered in snow, the swing had pulled out all my emotions, I laid my head upon the chains supporting me. Looking up to the sky where the snowflakes said goodbye to their home, I felt their sorrow, I had experienced their sorrow. I knew one day I'll be okay, that day may not be today or tomorrow as I thought about the boy who broke my heart, he was everything I ever wanted but maybe we weren't truly destined to be together. My heart may never stop loving him, but I knew that I had to move on even if it hurt me more than anything to let go of this false sense of hope that he'll come back. Pushing myself off the swing, needing to head home to my waiting friend, the street lights showed the beauty of winter as a snow-covered the harshness behind it.

Christmas wasn't as lonely, Jess filled the gap he had left, she made me think about the joy of being with the ones I love instead of the painful memories of the past. It was a few days after Christmas, people were heading back home to their lives before the holiday hit, business was back to normal, the air still filled with gingerbread men and eggnog, music upbeat for the next year to come. I was talking to Jess about what PB was doing last night with his new toy, when she-hell popped up once again asking for the same thing she always did, giving her a coffee before wanting to get off work to escape the aura she placed on the small cafe. I was halfway home when I thought of a good idea, grabbing PB I decided that we're going to take daily walk instead of doing our walks on the weekends for the new year. It was late into the night, Stars above watching us from above when I accidentally bumped into someone, “Sorry.” I'm mumble, “It's okay.” He gentle says. Freezing in my spot I feel my stomach hurl, slowly turning around praying it wasn't him. “It's nice to see you again, Wonho.” my voice wanting to give up on me as I look at him one last time.

#kpop fanfic #kpop au #au kpop #kpop angst #wonho monsta x #monsta x #monsta x angst #wonho #au kpop angst #monsta x au #kpop fanfiction

32 notes · View notes