#[how can i survive change your state of mind i should say goodbye] {no no no!} | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff

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glowingspence · 3 years

Note

hotchreid-90 or 32, or just, anything hotchreid , not established relationship preferred 💜💜

"Hey" Shyly Reid looks at the man standing in front of his door, late in the evening. "What are you doing here?"

"I just- you seemed off today- do you mind if I-" Without waiting for permission Hotch steps into the apartment, pressing himself through the small crack Reid had opened the door to before looking at him properly.

Spencer had already changed out of his suit and into more comfortable clothes, the thick soft socks reaches partly over the end of his sweatpants, the stained hoodie he almost always wears at home covers his hands.

"I am worried" Hotch admits, "We have been- we started spending so much time and we went on those dates and I am worried I overstepped because now you are shielding yourself away. Not only from me. I got Morgan on speed dial- I am- if I made you uncomfortable- he will come over and you can talk to him- or me- it's just- I am- I am really sorry" He brings out pressing his lips together as he looks at Reid who takes a moment and then frowns at him.

"You didn't do anything wrong" Hesitantly he backs away even further from Hotch, "I thought we are- you know- doing pretty good."

"I thought so too but ever since three weeks ago, you have been quiet and when I try to ask you out, you are reclining everything I suggest and that's okay. We don't have to go out. But at least drinking a coffee together would be nice, you know." He explains, "I miss you"

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, picking at the dry skin around elbows underneath the loose sweater as he does before his facial expressions slightly changed, like it does when Hotch watches him cracking a code on cases and he encrypted a little piece of it. "What is it?"

"Nothing. We can go out, it's not you." He assures him, looking down to the floor. "We can grab coffee tomorrow after work."

"If you don't feel up to it we don't have to."

"I do. I do. Everything is okay" Spencer insists and starts rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Did something happen three weeks ago?"

"No" Spencer quickly answers, a bit to forcefully to make it sound true. "No, nothing happened."

"Why don't we sit down?" Comforting Hotch tries placing a hand on Spencer but he flinches away, "I am sorry. Can we sit down? Is that okay?"

While he has his lips pressed together Spencer nods and walks first towards the couch, sitting down at the end. He crosses his arms in front of his stomach and presses them against his stomach before he leans forward far enough that it makes it comfortable to rock back and forth.

"Do you need anything?" Hotch questions worried. "Do you want your blanket?"

Spencer shakes his head but keeps on rocking back and forth.

"Did something happen with Jack? Did he say something?" Hotch asks trying to figure out what has him so upset but he shakes his head, "Did someone on the team say something about us? Did Morgan not like that we went out?"

He shakes his head again before taking one hand away from his middle and starts tapping his head with his palm in a steady rhythm before he speaks, "Morgan said he will kill you if you hurt me, Morgan likes you, Morgan likes to know I am safe. You can keep me safe. Morgan likes that."

"I am glad he does" Hotch answers and figures he is not the problem. "You can tell me anything"

"Not this thing" Spencer tells him and Hotch raises one eyebrow. "Not this thing. Not this thing."

"Why not?" He interrogates with a soft voice, "Spencer why can't you tell me?" He repeats when Spencer doesn't answer.

"It's a secret"

"It's a secret?"

"Not my secret." He explains and a tear rolls down his cheek, "It's a horrible secret."

"It is?" Hotch questions with sympathy in his voice and Spencer nods and sobs ones, holding himself again but signaling with his position that he doesn't want Hotch to touch him, "Is that why you have been so closed up? Does the secret do that?"

"It hurts."

"It hurts?" Hotch repeats waiting for Spencer to elaborate.

"Makes me feel sick and sorry." He tells him before adding, "It makes me feel really bad, like I did when Emily died. When my chest really hurt like someone is tying it but my stomach feels all empty"

"Do you mean grief? Are you grieving?"

"I don't know." Spencer sobs again, new tears running down his face as his body shakes, "It feels like when Emily died."

"Maybe it's grief we don't need to identify that right now, it's okay." Hotch tries to keep Spencer's frustration low. "Can you tell me who told you that secret?"

"No"

"Okay, that's okay." Hesitant Hotch scoops closer, "Come here" After a moment of hesitation Hotch scoops into the corner of the couch and Spencer follows him, climbing into his lap and curling himself up in a way that can hide his face against Hotch's neck as he cries. His hand gripping his shirt, as muffled sobs fill the apartment. "Okay, okay you are okay."

He waits for him to calm down until only sniffles fill the room, Spencer still leaning against him but being more spread out over the couch as he plays with Hotch's fingers.

"We are gonna try something, okay baby?" The nickname falls so naturally from his tongue, both men don't notice, "Why don't you tell me the secret. But you tell me with the TV-show we watched all day at my apartment? You remember the one Jack wanted to watch?"

"The one with the friend group?"

"Yeah that one"

"I am no allowed to tell you."

"If it makes you this upset you can tell me. It's okay. Nothing is gonna happen to you." Protectively Hotch places a hand on Spencer's cheek, making him feel shield away from the world around him.

"I am Jess." Spencer starts, "And the person who told me that secret is Cece."

"Cece who is together with Schmidt? With the little daughter?"

"Yes"

"Alright, I can follow." He assures him.

"And Cece had been sad and hurting. Like something really terrible happened. So Jess waited for her in front of the bathroom for a really long time. Because Cece also had a injury on her hand, like she had been punching something, but there is no one she should be fighting with." He stops and presses himself closer against Hotch, "So Jess waited and when Cece finally came out, she asked if they could talk and Cece eventually agreed and they went into an empty room and Jess asked what is going on. But Cece wouldn't tell her and told her- and told her that she should stop being so worried and stop being so her." He presses himself against Hotch again while he rubs his feet over the couch.

"It's okay, it's okay, you are doing good." Hotch tries calming him and slowly he stops moving im his arms again, "go on when you are ready"

"Jess told her that she can't help it. You know, because Jess was really worried and Jess sometimes doesn't know where personal boundaries are. Jess just wants to help and people think she is being nosy."

"Well Nick loved that about her"

"Not important" Spencer states, "Cece told her that not even she could come up with the word for what she feels. Because Cece has PTSD because she was in a terrible accident."

"She was?"

"Mmm Jess knew that and so Jess kept pushing and didn't read the signs and then Cece told her that she was pregnant when the accident happened-" Again Spencer breaks into a sob and moves in Hotch's arms again,

"You are okay, it's okay, it's okay, you did so good by telling me." He assures him and grabs both of his arms slightly leaning down on him, "Keep talking, you are almost done. You did such a good job."

Spencer by now lays with his back on Hotch's thighs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he tries hitting his hands together and Hotch realizes what he tries to do, let's go and let's him hit his knuckles together.

"What happened then? What did Jess do?"

"Jess had to keep the secret. Nobody knows."

"Does Schmidt know?"

"No, Cece was working abroad when she found out and when she lost the baby. Cece was all alone." He tells him and hits his knuckles together harder.

"How does Jess feel now?"

"Jess would have been godmother to a second child. Jess doesn't know what to feel because she never even met the child and didn't know about it but now feels like something is gone from her heart. Jess is sad."

"Did Jess ever talk to Cece again about it?"

"Jess found a way for Cece to say goodbye to the man who did this but she is worried she won't be able to heal." They stay quiet for a long moment, Spencer hitting his knuckles together, until Hotch holds his hand between Spencer's two fists who can't stop.

"I think JJ loves you so so much, and I think JJ is the strongest woman this earth has ever seen and I know this must be terrifying, to see her like this but she is going to survive it and she knows that she has you to lean on when times get hard and she has Henry and Will and I know that when she is home she has all the love and understanding around her she always wished for." Gently he moves his other hand up to Spencer's head, "And as in for you, it's okay to feel whatever you feel right now and I am so so proud of you for taking care of her. She maybe said those things but she probably felt a little bit crowded by you. You know that feeling too. You sometimes say those things too and then mean it. But in the end, I think she is gonna feel a lot better knowing someone knows. And knowing someone is watching out for her."

[Prompt list]

#tw child loss #tw ptsd #tw self harm #minor new girl spoilers #thank you for your request #i hope I understood your wish right #(if not let me know💖)#hotchreid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #autistic spencer reid #jennifer jereau #i love you prompt list works #my writing

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adam-banks2024 · 3 years

Text

Deja Vu

Part 1

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kind of angst for now, backstory, arguments, and extremely slow burn. Also future poly

He’s insufferable

He’s arrogant. He’s rude. He’s annoying.

He is insufferable.

And I have to deal with him.

Of all the people Mrs. Moore could have partnered me with, she just had to choose him. It’s not like we even put a show on in public, and it’s sad but, everybody knows about the feud between us that started four years ago.

I had just moved to town from three states over, and I didn’t know anyone my age. After a few weeks of summer went by of not knowing anyone, my dad convinced me to join the district’s hockey team. He told me that it was because he wanted me to make some friends, but I knew that he really just couldn’t afford to pay a babysitter. And my mother, well, she wasn’t in the picture. So I ended up having to go through the lost and found at six different ice rinks in Minnesota in order to get all of my equipment. At first, I was wary of the idea, but my dad said that it was kind of like shopping, so I agreed to go with him. Originally, we would have only had to search five rinks, but I couldn’t find any skates that were my size. After almost twelve hours of rummaging through sweaty pads and broken sticks, I had myself a full set of hockey gear.

Now I was on to the next challenge: How To Skate. I had been ice skating a couple of times before for birthday parties, but I’ve never been able to skate at the level that I had to in order to survive during an entire hockey game. I thought maybe it would just come to me naturally after attending a few practices. Until I did some research at the school library. Apparently, it takes a person at least two months to learn how to ice skate. But ignoring the negative, I decided to focus on the positive. ‘I could at least balance myself...and besides, I probably would be on the bench for every game...and just remember, you’re doing this for friends.’ These were the only three things that ran through my mind on the way to the ice rink. I was honestly terrified. I was scared that the other kids would make fun of me, or worse, ignore me. Well, maybe being made fun of is worse, but at least then they’d acknowledge me. I had to stop myself from thinking about that kinda stuff. I haven’t even attended a single hockey practice yet, and now I’ve added at least four more stressors into my life.

When my dad pulled up to the building, my stomach was tingling. My hands were clammy, and my eyebags had definitely seen better days. I wanted to run so fast away from this place, and not move at all at the same time.

“Nerves,” my dad said. He must’ve noticed from my frozen state in the backseat of his minivan. “You’ll do great! Just don’t break any bones.” He chuckled at the end in hopes that it would come off as a joke, but that is definitely not how it sounded.

To my surprise, I was the first kid that had arrived. I didn’t know much about the team, but I did know that most of the other kids had been on it since they were five or six years old. I was almost the exact opposite, thirteen and just starting. I wasn’t really sure why I was the first person to arrive, and it only added to my nervousness.

I tried to brush it off as I saw someone outside in the parking lot leave a car holding a bag like you had. I could hear his muffled voice. “I’ll see you at six.” Whoever he was talking to must have responded because the boy spoke again, “yup, love you too.” A parent maybe. A mom? I could faintly make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat, but the glare from the sun blocked most of the car window.

Thank god someone else was here because at least now I knew that I was in the right place. But another problem arose. Now, different things were rushing through my head about what to say to the other boy. Should I make a joke, ask a question? Simply say ‘hello’? I didn’t know. So, I decided to settle on the most stupid thing anyone could ever say.

“Are you on the hockey team?” What kind of question is that? He has a bag, this time is cut out specifically for hickey practice, and he has a hockey stick with him. Why else would he be here?

He looked up from where he was walking and stared at me awkwardly. It was likely that he wouldn’t have even noticed me if I hadn’t said anything to him. But I did. Which I regretted.

“Oh, um, yeah.” He went to keep on walking but he stopped himself quickly. “Are you?”

I had to keep a laugh in because the boy looked genuinely confused. Or maybe I misjudged that for concern. Still, though, it sounded a bit hopeful. This kid was really hard to read. Either way, I was pretty sure that he thought I couldn’t play hockey.

“Yeah. My dad made me join to make some friends.”

Suddenly the boy’s demeanor changed. He seemed almost excited that there was a new kid on the team. “Well, I’ll be your first friend. My name’s Adam. Adam Banks. Walk and talk.” And then he started towards two big double doors.

My eyebrows rose at the sudden confidence, taken off guard, but at least he was being friendly. I adjusted your bags and followed right behind him. “So what’s it like here.”

He answered after struggling to open one of the doors, “Well it’s not so bad. It’s super cutthroat during the regular season but in the offseason, it’s pretty relaxed.” As I made myself around the outside of the rink, he kept rambling. “Especially during summer league. The kids who only play during that league have it nice. You’ll definitely survive.”

“Um, so what happens during the regular season?” The thought of angry yelling coaches wasn’t appealing to me, but I could make it work

Adam shrugged his bag up so it wouldn’t fall from his shoulder, “Well. Usually, coach yells at us, tells us that if we don’t win we’re failures, and everyone is constantly fighting to be a starter.” There was silence. “So that’s fun.” I just nodded my head, trying to take this all in. Adam didn’t say anything until he reached the locker room doors. Then he turned to me. “Yeah, but coach is a lot less lenient during summer because it doesn’t really matter for playoffs.”

I scoffed, “yeah, but I’ll eventually have to deal with him. Right?”

Adam’s expression flattened, “Wait, you’re doing winter league too?” He looked genuinely concerned, and now I was second-guessing joining hockey. If this boy didn’t think I could survive, then how could I? Even if I was just gonna sit on the bench, the way this kid was making it out to be was not sounding like the greatest way to make friends.

“Well, yeah. Is that bad?” I needed to hear him say it. Say that I should quit, or join dance, or something. Just so I could have an excuse to tell my dad in case the first day of practice goes awry.

He spoke fast, “Oh no, no. It’s just that--”

“That I’m not good enough…”

He didn’t say anything. Harsh. I was just trying to make a joke but, I guess that’s what he was really thinking. We stood in silence for a few more seconds, and then he finally thought of something to respond with.

“No. I just feel like you’ll get hurt… and, um.”

I started to laugh. I applaud Adam for trying to make it seem like he didn’t think I was bad, but he just couldn’t do it. “Don’t sweat it, I know I’m gonna be bad.” He started to laugh with me. “Hey, at least I’ll get abs out of it.”

He and I were actually pretty good friends for the most part. He was my first friend here in Minnesota. He taught me how to skate, and in turn, I offered him some sub-par jokes. He always used to laugh at my jokes even if they were awful. He was what I considered my best friend. He definitely wasn’t a best friend, I couldn’t confide in all of my secrets, and he couldn’t do the same to me, but Adam was the only kid I was friends with. We laughed hard, we fell on the ice together. He even told his mom that practices started to end later just so he could wait with me until my dad got off work and picked me up.

Not long after we bonded, I hato the ducks. At the time, I didn’t know exactly what happened. All my dad said to me was something about how the coach wasn’t that nice, and that he didn’t want me on his team. I didn’t really care since hockey wasn’t something that I cared about too much. So I said goodbye to Adam and explained that I had to go. I didn’t say anything about the coach-not-liking-me part because then I thought he’d feel bad for me.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to switch teams too, but I think my dads’ gonna see if I can stay on the team.” He spoke almost as if he was trying to convince himself. I thought it was a great idea to tell him why he had to go to the ducks.

“They don’t want you, Adam. Maybe if you go to the ducks, you’ll get a coach who appreciates you.” I didn’t know what was wrong with what I said to him until about a year later, but by the time I finished my sentence, he was fuming.

The situation afterward was a blur, and I can’t remember what all was said. I just remember Adam touching on the fact how I’m an awful hockey player, and that he only talked to me because he felt sorry for me. Now, if my old coach had told me that I was awful at hockey, I’d be completely fine. I already knew that, and coach is just...coach. But hearing it come from Adam? It wasn’t like he was just telling me how it is, he wanted to hurt me.

It took me two weeks to stop thinking about the situation constantly, and then it started to fade away. I never even told him the real reason why I told him what I did, but now I have to work on a history project with him. How am I gonna do that if I can’t even tell him the reason for our quarrel that we had three years ago? Let alone complete a whole project?

“The syllabus will be given tomorrow, and the deadline for this project will be written under the ‘AP History’ bulletin. You may get to work.”

I slumped out of my desk and started putting away my things that were on the table attachment. During this, I tried to think of what I was going to say when I went over to him. I almost decided on either trying to make a truce or just acting like he didn’t exist.

He was slouched in his desk, pencil in hand, avoiding eye contact with me. As I sat down my stuff on an empty desk near him, his words startled me. “So, 50/50?”

I just stared at him. For some reason, my brain could not process what Adam had just said. It took a solid four seconds for me to respond. “I don’t understand.”

Adam’s eyebrows rose while his eyes rolled, “Of course you don’t.”

I scoffed, “What, you’re just gonna say some numbers and you think I’m gonna understand what you’re trying to say?”

He was leaning forward in his desk now, “Well you seemed to be doing well in calculus, so, yes.” A small, mocking smile was now gracing his face.

I took in a deep breath to try and refrain from spewing whatever profanities came to mind. “Look, can we just set aside whatever this is so we can do this project?” He crossed his arms in response. “C’mon, I can’t afford to get a bad grade.” Still no response. If his goal was to ruin my life, he sure was on the right path.

“What do I get out of it?”

The audacity.

“I’m just saying. I’ll be fine with one bad grade, so what exactly is the payoff for tolerating...you?”

So there was a shiny glimmer of hope, but it would definitely come at a cost. “Anything. Anything you want. Just please, tolerate me.”

He brought a hand to his chin, acting like he was pondering his choice, “but will it really be anything?”

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Watch it.” His voice was stern.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But yes, anything. You name it.”

Did he even know what he wanted? Or was he just trying to play this out? Either way, I’m about to have a conniption if we don’t start working on this project soon.

We sat in silence for what felt like forever. Of course, Adam had to change his thinking position almost every second, until he decided on what he wanted. “Okay, here’s the deal. I help you get your precious little A, and you have to get me a date with Charlie.”

#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks imagine #the mighty ducks x reader #mighty ducks #mighty ducks imagine #mighty ducks x reader #adam banks #adam banks imagine #adam banks x reader

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hongnanglen-arina · 3 years

Text

Good care | Hong Joshua

Genre: Fluff, implied smut

Pairing: Joshua x fem reader

Warnings: alcohol (:

Words: 2k

A/N: Hi there! This is my first drabble request. Sorry for taking so long but I recently changed jobs so.. yeah haha... but I had so much fun writing this :3 hope you like it! ♡

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

“This is the last one.”

Joshua let his gaze travel through the room after placing the said box next to the others. After you two celebrated your marriage half a year ago, you found a perfect place and finally moved in together. It had enough space for the two of you to dive into your hobbies but also for future plans. Hearing his words, you walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where your husband was standing next to his friend.

Soonyoung was kind enough to help you with the moving. He joked that it would be a free workout and seeing how much both of them were sweating, it was true. Their shirts were soaked and you felt relieved that Joshua didn’t choose a white one because it would surely be see-through by now. As you passed by to reach the open kitchen area, he gave you a small peck on your cheek and let his fingers brush through his damp hair.

“I’ll get you something refreshing to drink. Soonyoung, are you staying for dinner? I thought about ordering something since our fridge is empty except for drinks.”

You grabbed two cans of beer, giving one to your husband and earning another soft peck on your other cheek, causing you to smile sheepishly.

“Oh, that sounds nice but I have to decline. I have to prepare for the dance class tomorrow. Don’t wanna be laughed at by the kids, you know?”

“Didn’t you say earlier that you’ve already mastered the steps?”

“Well… a little more practice won’t hurt.” Soonyoung laughed and thanked you when you offered him the other can.

Apparently both men were very thirsty because they finished their beer in seconds and it didn’t take long until Soonyoung said his goodbyes to you. Placing the empty cans on the kitchen counter, you looked up to see your husband close the apartment door and walking back to you.

“Is my little girl hungry?”

Snorting, you let him wrap his hands around your waist, placing your own on his chest and feeling the damp fabrics beneath your palms. “I’m not so little anymore, you know?”

Joshua poked your nose with his, a smile on his lips. “You will always be a little girl for me… my little girl.” He was about to kiss you when you turned your head to the side, grabbing your phone to order food and you suppressed your giggles when you heard him let out a soft whine.

“Hey, I’m hungry!” You said and couldn’t hide your grin as you saw his pout.

“I’m hungry, too.”

“See? Very good then. How about that family pizza we saw from the place downstairs?” You opened their website on your phone and felt Joshua move a little closer, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck. “I’m not hungry for pizza, babe.”

“We can’t survive with just love. Humans need food also,” you giggle when his kisses started to tickle your sensitive skin.

“But at our wedding, I swore to take good care of you always.”

“You always do, Shua.”

“But I need to do that now.”

“You can do it after the food.”

Joshua pulled back a little to face you, shaking his head no, the pout back on his lips so you gave him a quick peck. His satisfied noise changed to a whine when your lips left his again. He was so cute when he was needy.

“Say, are you drunk?” At your question, he shook his head no again, pointing at the empty cans behind him. “I only had one can, that’s not enough to knock me out. You should know that by now.”

Laughing, you showed him your tongue and wiggled your way out of his arms, his eyes followed you curiously. “Where are you going, babe?”

“Getting our food!”

“You ordered already?”

“Hahaha yes? You were too distracted to notice I guess.”

“Wait.” You stopped in your tracks and waited until Joshua was next to you, taking the keys out of your hands. “I will get the food, you can relax. Won’t be long.”

Opening your mouth to say something, you watched how he quickly got dressed and opened the apartment door, sending you a flying kiss before closing it behind him.

Blinking, you smiled to yourself. Such a gentleman.

While you waited for him to come back with the pizza, you put your clothes into the wardrobe in your bedroom, going through the stuff in your boxes. You lost track of time when suddenly the apartment door opened. “Your man is back with the food! Sorry for the wait but you sent me to get the food when they got your order seconds before. But that means, it’s hot. Just like me.”

Suppressing a laugh, you stood in the door to the living room, a can of beer in your hand which you opened after Joshua left, leaning against the frame as you looked at Joshua placing the pizza on the little coffee table, motioning to sit down and to join him on the floor. Smiling, you did as he told you but as he was opening the box, you crawled closer to him, one hand on his thigh as your lips were barely touching his ear. You could feel how Joshua’s body had stiffened, waiting for whatever you were about to do. You decided to tease him a little and let out a soft moan before saying, “Do you want more beer?”

You pulled back and met Joshua’s dark eyes, poking his inner cheek with his tongue. “You little vixen…”

“Is that a yes?” Not waiting for an answer, you got up with your almost empty can to get new ones, swaying your hips, well aware that your man was watching you.

When you sat down again, Joshua was leaning back on his hands, licking his lips. You opened both cans and placed them on the coffee table. It seemed like Joshua was thinking so you asked him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh… nothing.” With a mischievous grin on his lips, he handed you one slice of pizza before taking one for himself. You were curious but the hunger was stronger so you started eating. You decided to ask him later.

After a while you forgot the question as you two talked about the day and your future together. Each of you had the last slice of pizza in front of you, on the coffee table 4 empty cans of beer. Most of them were from Joshua. The warm feeling of the alcohol clouded your mind a little. You only had 2 cans while Joshua just emptied his 4th. Holding your 3rd beer, you felt Joshua’s hand carefully stroking over your blushed cheek.

“Now we can do whatever we want, whenever we want.. wherever we want…” You looked up from your food and to the man beside you who was winking at you. Giggling, you took your beer and drank from it, unable to stop smiling. This was exactly what you wanted, what you two have dreamt about for the past 3 years. It was a little difficult to have alone-time since you two were still living with your parents. So mostly you met up outside or at home whenever your parents weren’t there which made you feel like teenagers but you had no other choice. You couldn’t count how often you had rented a hotel room just to sate your needs.

But now you didn’t have to worry about it anymore. You had your own home.

“We should celebrate it, don’t you think?”

Lifting your can, you looked at him confused. “But aren’t we doing exactly that right now?”

Showing you his slightly red face, Joshua shook his head no at your words, moving a little closer to you. “I don’t mean that.”

He took the beer out of your hand and turned it around so he could take a sip. Your eyes automatically traveled lower and saw how he swallowed the alcohol, absentmindedly biting your bottom lip.

After Joshua placed the can on the table, he gave you his full attention again, brushing your hair behind your shoulder. “So now your cute little belly is full, time for dessert.” He started to kiss your exposed neck, making you giggle sheepishly.

“Shua…”

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you tired from moving?”

“Not at all.”

A relatively hard suck just below your earlobe caused you to gasp out loud, holding onto his broad shoulder, feeling him smirk against your skin because of your reaction.

“Your cute noises tell me that you want it too.”

The way he was talking proved that he was drunk. And a drunk Joshua always meant a sexy Joshua. Feeling his teeth graze along your neck and leave love marks on your shoulder and collarbone, you closed your eyes and bit down on your lip. The alcohol in your system combined with his slow and sensual treatment tried to trick you in believing that you were more than tipsy.

“Shua…”

“My little girl likes it, mh?”

“Mmmh…” Your fingers were massaging his scalp while his lips were sucking at your skin, earning soft mewls from you.

“Should we take it to the couch? The floor is a little hard for what’s to come, don’t you think, babe?” Joshua placed a last kiss on your neck before looking into your eyes, his dark brown orbs hypnotizing you in an instant. His bedroom gaze sending shivers down your smile as he stroked your cheek again, admiring your blushed face. “You are so pretty.”

Normally, you would tease him for his slurred words as you found it funny but being with him like this in your first own apartment on your first day was different. His gaze dropped to your slightly opened mouth and he couldn’t stop himself from connecting his lips with yours for a passionate kiss. Exchanging moans while your tongues were fighting for dominance, you felt his big hand on the back of your head, deepening the kiss which slowly became messy.

Your knee hit the coffee table, causing you to break the kiss and as your eyes lock, you two chuckled. “It’s time to change to the soft couch.” Sheepishly nodding at his suggestion, you slowly got up but had to help your husband. He surely had too many cans.

“Is dessert okay in your current state?” You giggled and he gave you a playful glare.

“Oh babe, I’m capable of so many more. Just you wait.”

His hands were everywhere on you on the short walk over to the couch and you almost missed out on when he removed his shirt, pulling you on top of him when you two flopped down on the soft furniture.

Joshua grabbed your ass and instantly moved you against him, making you hiss into the kiss. “S-shua… let me get some blankets. I… don’t want to ruin our new couch on our first day.” You propped yourself up on his chest, watching him lick his lips and think for a second.

“But come back quick. Your man is quite impatient.”

Nodding with a grin, you stood up and ran to the bedroom, opening a box where you thought you had seen blankets in before. You were lucky with the third box and took two of them back to the other room.

But when you arrived in front of Joshua, you saw him fast asleep, rolled to the side, even snoring slightly. You felt a little disappointed but understood. He carried all the heavy boxes all day long and was still so sweet and caring to you despite his exhaustion. And tomorrow you still had to rearrange some of the stuff.

This was the first day. You had so many more to come so you could call it a day and join him on the couch. Smiling, you gently placed Joshua’s head on a pillow which caused him to stir.

“Mmmh… y/n…” He turned around and opened his arms, eyes still closed as he waited.

Giggling, you unfolded the blankets and joined Joshua on the couch, covering the both of you under the soft fabrics.

He was fast in pulling you closer and against his chest, his hand lazily stroking your back.

You patted his head lightly. “Good night, Shua.”

#caratwritersclub #kpopscape #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #hong jisoo #svt joshua #seventeen joshua #joshua #kpop ff #kpop drabble #svt drabble #svt fluff #joshua fluff #carat #svt scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop #seventeen

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the7thcrow · 3 years

Text

indulgence | part three

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 6.6 k

genre: forbidden love. this part is very angsty oh boy, suggestive.

warnings: blood and blood drinking (because they’re vampires lmao), character death, themes of guilt surrounding said character death, themes of lying and betrayal, murder, sex is discussed but not described, alcohol.

rating: 16+

taglist (open!) : @katya-moro @leximb1997

a/n: hi everybody! here’s a new part of indulgence for you! definitely a bit of a darker tone to this part, as we take a bit of a turn in the storyline (but frankly, i’m very excited about it). if you enjoy this, please let me know (only if you want, of course)! i’m a sucker for feedback. and once again, thanks for reading! i appreciate it. <3

previous chapter.

...

“No, Felix Lee will be the one to pay this price. Kill him, and the damage you’ve caused will be forgiven.”

The words echo in your mind as you leave the councilroom, your ears ringing. This couldn’t be happening. You expected something terrible of course, but you at least figured it would happen to you.

Then again, wasn’t this punishment worse? To suffer with the fact that this was all your fault, that Felix Lee would die by your hand, while you lived on. No, this was no form of mercy. The Council was cruel, and this was no exception.

As you enter the main hallway, you feel a hand rest on your shoulder. “Y/N,” a familiar voice speaks softly, but it does anything but soothe you.

You whirl on Chan, smacking his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, staring daggers into him. While you expect him to be smug, or even amused, his eyes seem empty. Sad. He feels guilty.

Of course he does, because that’s who Chan is. He isn’t a monster, no matter how badly you try to make him out to be. No matter how much easier it would be to hate him. You know Chan, and he would never be giddy about something like this.

“I’m sorry,” he pleads as you turn away from him and stride down the hall. “I didn’t think that this would happen. I didn’t think that they would kill him.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” You mock, refusing to slow down or look him in the eye. “Well, I guess it’s fine then.”

He chases after you. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Y/N. That’s not what I’m asking for. I want to help you.”

At this you turn around to face him, pulling him into a separate, less busy hallway that leads to the library. “What? You want to hand me the blade? Cock the gun?”

Chan opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His eyes are wide, shocked by the venom of your words.

“No-no? That’s not what I mean-”

“Or do you just want to be in the room while I drink him dry? Try to lend some moral support, because God knows I’ll need it.”

“Y/N, if you’ll just let me talk-” he pleads, once again placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s all too familiar, and only makes your anger spark further.

“No!” You cut him off, your voice dangerously loud. “You sold me out, Chan. You fucked me over. And I don’t care why, I don’t care how you try to justify or fix it now. I don’t care. It’s over. I have to kill someone I care about, someone… someone I could have loved one day because of you. Because of your-”

“Hey, uh, are you guys okay?” A voice asks from over your shoulder. You turn your head to see Jeongin, eyes imploring the both of you with a nervous curiosity.

Chan plasters on a reassuring smile. “Yeah, we’re good, man. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks carefully. “Because I heard yelling-”

“We’re okay,” you say, putting on your own fake smile. “We’ll meet you down at the front in a second, we just need a minute.”

“Ah, alright, if you say so,” he says, not sounding so sure. Slowly, he turns around, disappearing down the hall.

Once you hear the sound of his footsteps fade, Chan turns back to you, his voice low. “Turn him,” he states.

“What?” You ask, eyes narrowing.

“Look,” he sighs. “I messed up, I’m sorry. I thought they’d make you stop seeing him, not have you kill the guy. It was petty and stupid, and in some messed up way I thought that I would be protecting you. Clearly, I’ve managed to do the exact opposite. I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to fire back, to tell him his apology is not accepted, but as his eyes meet yours, you can’t bring yourself to. His eyes are glassy, on the brink of tears. He swallows deeply, stabilizing himself before continuing.

“And I know if they kill him, you’ll never forgive me. Hell, you shouldn’t forgive me. But that’s the last thing I want, for us to be like this.”

He stops for a second, a breath of silence passing between the two of you. Your eyes begin to sting, overwhelmed by the emotion of it all. It could be your current situation. It could be that familiar look of painful affection swimming in Chan’s eyes. It could be a lot of things. Perhaps it is all of them.

“What do I do, Chan?” You whisper, your voice coming out hoarse. “Fuck, what do I do?”

He hesitates for a moment, before pulling you into a hug. That’s the final push that breaks you, tears fall from your eyes, sprinkling your cheeks. You would be embarrassed, if it weren’t only Chan there to see you. Despite all that has happened, there is still that comfortable acceptance that hangs in the air around the two of you. That involuntary form of care that doesn’t flare out, even after the love has dissipated.

“You turn him into one of us,” Chan says. “It’s the only option, maybe then The Council will cut him a break.”

“I can’t do that to him,” you whisper, shaking your head. “I can’t make him suffer like this.”

“Maybe,” Chan says, setting his chin on top of your head. “But is this really a fate worse than death?”

~~~~

That is the question you contemplate on the lonely walk back to your apartment. Chan had offered to walk you back, but you declined. Despite the moment of reconciling the two of you had shared, you still aren’t ready to be around him. He still hasn’t earned your forgiveness.

As you arrive home, your apartment feels haunted. Not by Chan’s ghost, as it once had been, but Felix’s. You can see him lying on the couch, television playing some history documentary you were both only half paying attention to. You can smell his cooking wafting in from the kitchen, a familiar sweet that had long since been devoured.

You can feel his touch against your skin, the phantom of his fingertips dancing along your back. Your neck. Your thighs.

You can’t kill him, that much you know. However, if you don’t, someone else will. No, you have to fix this, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Chan is right. The only way Felix has a chance of survival is to turn him, but could you really do that? After knowing just how terrible this life really was?

If you had been given the option in being turned, there was no way in hell you would have accepted. You remember that dreadful night, roughly three years ago. You’d been new to Hampden, and eager to meet new people. You stumbled into him at a party. He was a little older, a little classy. You’d been interested in him right away, not yet having a clue about what he or The Society was. Vampires were nothing but a myth, a fairy-tale, a form of media-culture.

This would change later that month. For good.

The two of you began to see one another casually. It was fun, thrilling. You kept each other a secret, for reasons you didn’t understand the full extent of at the time. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met, for both better and for worse. With his charisma and passion, came a strange, devious obsessiveness. A terrifying need for control. You’d go as far as to say, a lack of humanity.

Then came the night you decided to end things. The last night of your life as you knew it. You told him you wanted to stop seeing each other, he refused to leave. He yelled. He broke things. In the end, he turned you.

When you awoke, your new and rejuvenated self, he was already gone. This wasn’t a desperate attempt at staying together, at making you need him. No, it was revenge. You would pay the price for rejecting him, for the rest of your life.

Which was to say, forever.

You stare at the telephone sitting on your coffee table. Could you really do that to Felix? Could you really take away his life as he knew it? Make him say goodbye to his roommates, his freedom? Everything would become controlled by The Society.

The answer is no. No, you can’t make him do that. But as always, this is not a matter of what you do and don’t want. It never has been. It never can be.

You keep this in mind as you dial Felix’s cell, your fingers pressing the familiar keys deeply lodged in your memory. You don’t have to think, you’ve dialed this number so many times before.

The phone rings three times before he picks up. “Y/N?” His voice echoes through the speaker. He sounds worried. Perhaps he should be. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you mumble quietly, clearing your throat. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice full of concern. “This is a lot earlier than you said you’d call. Did you talk to Chan?”

Felix doesn’t know you had a meeting with The Council today, you hadn’t mentioned it to him prior. He knows nothing. Nothing of his death sentence. Nothing of the weight of what you have done.

“Yeah, I talked to him.” You say quietly, before a moment of silence passes by, as Felix waits for you to continue. “Listen, could you come over?”

“Right now?” He asks. “It’s the middle of the day, are you sure?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you think. “There isn’t anything to hide from anymore.”

“I’m sure,” you say, controlling the waver in your voice. What are you going to say when he gets here? How do you tell someone that they’re on death row? How do you offer them immortality? How do you explain the price?

“Okay,” he replies, in that sweet, deep voice of his. “I’ll see you soon.”

~~~~

You don’t know what to expect will happen when you open the door for Felix. How will he react when you tell him? Will he scream? Cry in silence? Or will he just leave, not being able to stand looking at you any longer?

Your stomach knots. You don’t know how he will react, but you know at the very least, he won’t be thrilled.

The doorbell rings, rattling through your apartment, shaking you from your worried daze. You approach the door slowly, hand shakily finding itself clenched around the door knob. With only a breath to settle yourself, you twist the handle.

When Felix see’s you, he can already tell that something is wrong. Perhaps it’s the way your eyes are staring at him as if he’s going to disappear. Or maybe it’s how your hands are shaking, arms wrapped around you, as if you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

All he knows is that something didn’t go according to plan.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks, pulling you into a hug. The gesture is warm, comforting. You could so easily slip away, immerse yourself in the feeling. Forget about The Council. Forget about it all, for just a moment. For just a night.

But oh, how selfish that would be.

“No,” you whisper into his chest, unable to look up and meet his gaze. “No, everything isn’t okay.”

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, gently breaking away from you. He takes your hand, slowly leading you over to the couch. “Did they do something? Did they hurt you?” He asks, beckoning for you to take a seat.

You laugh, although it sounds far more like a sob. Of course, before all else, he’s worried about you. It is just so utterly Felix, to have all his concerns focused on you, and not an inkling of worry towards himself.

Maybe you should have been more like him. Maybe if you had focused on what danger your little arrangement could have put Felix in, rather than trying to save your own hide, you could have prevented this.

So many maybe’s. So many possibilities you’d never know the answer too.

“No, Felix. They didn’t hurt me.” You sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, which are wide and swimming with concern. He’s panicking, that much is obvious.

“Then what happened? Was it Chan? Did he say something?”

You sigh. Time to get this over with. Rip off the bandaid.

“No, Lix. It wasn’t Chan. It’s about you,” you say. He freezes, slowly pulling his hand away from its place on your thigh.

“About me?” He asks slowly, the look in his eyes shifting from a worried concern, to fear. “What about me?”

You stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to break the news. In the end, you decide to just be outright.

“They want me to kill you,” you state. You expect him to jump away from you. To run, or yell. Something, at least. Instead, he blinks.

“Are you going to?” Felix asks, his tone emotionless. As if he were asking what you were doing that day, rather than whether or not you planned to murder him.

“What do you think?” You look at him, trying to read the expression on his face, but draw blank. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He sighs. “Alright. So what are we going to do, then?” He’s awfully calm considering the circumstances. Almost too calm. An eerie chill passes through you.

“Well, that’s the tricky part,” you start, inching away from him slightly. Why is he so relaxed? Did he expect this to happen? How, if you certainly didn’t? “I talked to Chan, and we both agree there’s only one way to solve this.”

“Wait,” Felix looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Chan? As in the same Chan who probably turned us into The Society in the first place? That Chan?”

“Yeah, that Chan,” you mumble, almost embarrassed. When he puts it like that, listening to Chan’s advice sounds foolish, but you know it’s more complicated than that. Chan had fucked up, there was no denying that, but you and Felix didn’t have many allies in this. It’s important to accept help where you can find it.

“Okay, and what did he recommend?” Felix asks, and you can hear the resentment in his tone.

“That I turn you,” you say. Frankly, you’d expected Felix to keep up this strange, cold exterior. Instead his jaw drops and he jumps to his feet.

“You-you want to what?” He stammers, taking a few steps back. His eyes are wide, full of nothing but pure terror.

“Woah, calm down! It’s okay,” you say, rising to your own feet, extending your hand out towards him. It reminds you of that first night you met, when he told you he knew what you were. About how his childhood neighbors were just like you. It is strange, looking back on how much has changed, yet also remained the same.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he states, refusing to take your hand. Instead, he wraps his arms around himself, shrinking backwards. He’s utterly terrified. “You want to make me into a monster?”

At that you frown. You know he’s frightened, that much is blatantly obvious, but a monster? That stung.

“A monster? Is that what you see me as?” You say, your tone sharp.

“Y/N, you know that’s not what I meant,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your anger spikes sharply.

“Really? Because that seems to be exactly what you meant.”

“You’re a vampire, Y/N. I think that’s quite literally an example of a monster. You? No, you aren’t one. But Chan? The Society? They are.”

“You don’t seem to find it so monstrous when I drink from you, do you? No, you actually like it. So don’t act like you know what you’re talking about, Felix. Because you don’t.”

“But, I do know!” He shouts back, closing the space between the two of you. You stare up at him, and suddenly you see it. The flicker of something behind his eyes. The flicker of something more.

“How?” You whisper, your breath hot against his lips. “How do you know?”

“Because,” he says, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You hear it, pounding, the blood rushing through his veins.

“I’m a hunter.”

~~~~

7 weeks prior…

Felix hadn’t originally expected to like you. From what Changbin had told him, vampires were the embodiment of evil. Blood-thirsty murderers, who revelled in the pain and anguish of their victims. Frankly, there really didn’t seem to be anything to be fond of.

No, he had expected to despise you. Fear you. Take the greatest risk he’d ever gambled walking into the library that night. He wasn’t even sure if he’d walk out alive.

Especially after what happened to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was one of Felix’s roommates. He, Changbin and Han lived together for over a year before Changbin invited Felix to move in a few months ago.

Felix had really liked Hyunjin from the start. The guy was funny, always ready to share a good story, or listen to one of Felix’s own. He was greatly accepting, treating Felix as if he had always lived there, right from the day he’d moved in. He was sweet, creative. A Dance major. Everything about the guy screamed likeable, and Felix couldn’t help but admire him.

Right up until the day he was murdered.

Hyunjin had started seeing someone. Although he wouldn’t admit it to any of his three roommates, the signs were undeniable. He’d disappear late into night, and always come home early in the morning. He’d cancel plans because he “had to study,” and when they came home he was nowhere to be found.

Changbin had confronted him about this, but Hyunjin had denied it. In that care-free, sweet nature of his that made Felix want to believe he was telling the truth.

But he couldn’t, because Felix had seen all the signs too.

Felix remembered one morning, when he woke up to find Hyunjin in the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee. The man hadn’t noticed him walking in, and Felix went to grab him by the shoulders. Just to make him jump a little, nothing too menacing.

But that’s when he saw them, peeking out from Hyunjin’s collared shirt. Two bites marks, clear as day.

When Hyunjin noticed him, he jumped back, quickly pulling the collar of his shirt higher. “Oh! Hey, Felix! You’re up early,” he’d said, laughing. However, Felix could see the falseness of his smile, the intense look in his eyes.

Hyunjin was hiding something, and whatever those bite marks were held the answer.

Now, Felix had never heard anything about vampires before. Therefore, when he saw the marks, he just assumed Hyunjin was into something… a little less than vanilla, to put it lightly. He shook it off. Tried to distance that day in the kitchen from his thoughts.

Yet, the marks stuck with him. They just looked so… real. They were not a human bite, nor any animal Felix could think of. They looked like something straight out of a horror film. The way the skin bruised around them, swollen. The holes themselves were dark. A hollow red.

Felix should have been concerned. Worried. Instead, he was intrigued. He wanted to talk to Hyunjin about them, but it felt too personal. He’d only known the guy a few months, and the marks seemed to be something Hyunjin wished to hide. He couldn’t just come outright and ask him.

So Felix kept it to himself. A mistake. A huge mistake.

As roughly 3 weeks later, Felix would walk into their apartment to find Changbin curled on the floor, trembling. His cheeks were stained with tears, eyes unfocused as Han sat behind him, patting his back to grant the smallest inkling of comfort.

“What happened?” Felix asked, panicking as he rushed to his friend's side. He may have only moved in a few months ago, but he’d known Changbin almost all his life. They’d gone to the same elementary school, parents being childhood friends themselves. They were close, unbelievably close. And in all that time, Felix had never seen Changbin so upset. So disheveled. Broken.

When Changbin didn’t respond, Felix turned to Han, who was already staring at him with somber, empty eyes.

“Hyunjin’s dead,” Han said, so quietly Felix wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly.

“Dead?” Felix choked, eyes subconsciously trailing to Hyunjin’s bedroom door. “What do you mean? He- he can’t be dead?” There was no way. Hyunjin had to be in there, dancing to his favourite mixes or reading a webcomic, gushing about his favourite dramas. He couldn’t be dead.

“He is,” Changbin spoke suddenly, still not deterring his eyes from their place on the wall. “I saw it happen.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Felix wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure how to form words. Shock enveloped him in a fuzzy, mind-clouding fog.

The three of them sat there for what felt like hours, until eventually, Changbin spoke.

“Don’t you want to know what happened?” He asked.

“Okay,” Felix whispered. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know. If he could handle it. Yet, his curiosity got the better of him.

“I was asleep in my room, woke up to the sound of banging on the door,” Changbin spoke quietly. “Heard Hyunjin get up to grab it, assuming it was fine. When he opened the door, he sounded shocked. Afraid. He spoke like he knew why they were here. Like he was in danger.”

“I heard them come inside. Hyunjin started shouting, “get away from me!”, “don’t touch me!” I got up, rushing towards the living room. However, as I was coming, I heard Hyunjin suddenly get cut off. Confused, I carefully peeked around the corner. Can you guess what I saw?”

When Felix didn’t answer, Changbin turned to face him, his eyes finally meeting Felix’s own. Felix swallowed, his heart rising into his throat. Changbin’s eyes were dead, holding a darkness that made Felix shiver.

“They were drinking his blood, Felix. Like a fucking vampire. The guy had Hyunjin pinned to a wall, and didn’t let go of him until Hyunjin was gone. Until he drank every last drop in his body. Then they dragged him out of here. Left as if nothing had happened.”

“That… that’s impossible,” Felix shook his head. The story had to have been fake, Changbin’s way of dealing with the trauma. It couldn’t have been true.

“Is it?” Changbin asked. “Is it really? Because I think we’ve all seen those sickening, fucking bite marks Hyunjin has been carrying around these last couple months.”

Felix froze. That was true, but still, that couldn’t have meant vampires were real. No, that was ridiculous. They weren’t any more real than mermaids, or werewolves. It was simply impossible.

But… was it?

Suddenly, Changbin leaped to his feet, storming across the living room and whipping open the door to Hyunjin’s bedroom.

Han, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, chased after him. “Changbin, no! It’s too soon. Don’t do this to yourself. Not right now.”

“No!” Changbin yelled back, not looking back at Han. He began digging through Hyunjin’s drawers, throwing everything inside out onto the bed. “It’s my fault he’s dead, and you know that. I should have tried to stop it, something at least. But I froze! I didn’t do shit! And now Hyunjin is dead, Han.”

Changbin rushed over to Hyunjin’s nightstand, ripping out the bottom drawer. “The least I can do now is try to prove what happened to him. Try to show that it wasn’t just my bloody imagination, like Felix over here clearly thinks it is.”

Felix, unsure of what to say, remained quiet.

“He doesn’t think you imagined it, Changbin,” Han reassured, carefully putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. “But trashing Hyunjin’s room? That’s not going to solve anything.

Changbin shrugged off Han’s hand, scowling. “You don’t know what will help,” he spat, half-mindedly flipping through one of Hyunjin’s old notebooks. “There’s got to be something in here. Something that will prove that-” he began, but quickly stopped.

Changbin stood silently for a moment, staring at the words on the pages with an intensity that made Felix nervous.

“This is it,” Changbin said quietly, not looking up at them.

“It’s what?” Han said, quickly placing himself beside him, beginning to read whatever was on the pages. He quickly went quiet, his eyes growing wide as he scanned the paper.

Changbin looked up at Felix, an unreadable expression on his face.

“It’s our proof.”

~~~~

Hours passed and Felix finally found himself sitting at his desk, the dim light of his lamp cascading over what turned out to be Hyunjin’s journal.

Changbin had finally given it to him, spending hours obsessing over every word and detail. God knows where he was now, having left the apartment around midnight. A couple hours had passed, and he still hadn’t returned.

Han had gone to sleep a while ago, leaving Felix alone with nothing but the ghost of Hyunjin’s words that he left behind. A chill passed through him. This was all he had left of him, these entries discussing what would later become the reason for his death.

Felix paused on a certain entry, one dating back roughly a month ago, regarding the bite marks.

October 23rd.

She fed from me today. Finally. It hurt seeing her so starved, so weak and frail compared to when we first met. Everytime I’d look in her eyes, I’d see how glazed over they were, how blown out from hunger. It physically hurt, knowing how she was putting herself through this pain when I could help her, if she’d only let me.

I had to beg her to do it. She’s so worried about them. So paranoid they’re going to find out. I’m scared too, I guess, but I’m willing to risk it. For her.

As for the feeding itself, it’s difficult to explain. It hurt, undoubtedly, but at the same time it was wonderful. It felt wrong, wild. Raw. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so connected with someone. It’s not the same as sex, somehow it felt more intimate? Like I said, it’s difficult to explain. Strange.

It’s weird, looking in the mirror now, seeing those marks. Yet, they make me smile. They remind me of her, as if I’m branded with the fact she trusted me enough to do this.

I think I’m starting to love her. Even if worse comes to worst, I don’t think I’d ever regret this. She’s shown me so much, I only hope our time doesn’t run out.

I’m seeing her again, tomorrow. I think Changbin is starting to get suspicious, he made a comment about me leaving late at night. I denied it, but I know he thinks something is up. Maybe Han and Felix do too, but they haven’t said anything.

I want to tell them, I really do. But I know I can’t. I promised her. Besides, roping them into this might make matters worse.

I hope I’m making the right choice.

~Hyunjin.

Felix felt like he was going to be sick. So Hyunjin knew. He knew what was coming, even a month ago. Yet he didn’t stop seeing this girl. Why? Hyunjin was a hopeless romantic, sure. But even so, this seemed ridiculous. Why would he keep doing this, knowing the consequences?

Felix’s mind wandered back to the marks on his neck. The deep gashes of where she’d drank from him. The feeding, as Hyunjin had called it. Was that what made him stay? This strange, monstrous intimacy?

Felix didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how this feeding could possibly be a good thing. And yet, to his own shame, he was curious. Curious of how it felt, how it led Hyunjin down this road to his death.

God, if Changbin could hear what he was thinking now.

~~~~

The following weeks passed by in a blur of grief and obsession. Changbin was rarely home. Sometimes he was at the library, doing as much research as he possibly could. Others, he was searching for more hunters, anything to find out more about what exactly Hyunjin had gotten himself into.

Today, the three roommates were sitting on the living room couch, discussing a rather important next step in Changbin’s mission of avenging Hyunjin.

“I found one,” Changbin stated, taking a sip of his gin and tonic.

Han frowned. “What do you mean you found one?”

“I mean one of those bloodsuckers is at the library every night the same time I am,” Changbin stated. Felix shifted nervously. He didn’t like the look on Changbin’s face.

“Okay,” Han continued, his frown deepening. “What do you want us to do about that? You’re not planning on shoving a stake through their heart or anything, are you?”

“No,” Changbin replied, although he didn’t seem to be as appalled by the idea as Han. “I plan on using them.”

“What do you mean?” Felix asked, an unsettling feeling passing through him.

“I mean, one of us has to get close to her. Close enough to figure out who this “they” Hyunjin keeps referencing is.”

“Then what?” Han asked, his arms crossed.

Changbin shrugged. “Then we make them pay for what they did to him. The only question now, is which one of us is it going to be?”

Now, Felix didn’t like vampires. Not at all. Not after what they’d done to Hyunjin. However, he couldn’t seem to find this deep-seeded hatred that Changbin had developed.

No, in fact he felt a level of sympathy for the girl who lived on Hyunjin’s pages. For the sweet and generous girl who would almost rather die than subject him to any danger. She wasn’t a monster, that much was obvious. No, the vampires that murdered Hyunjin, the vampires that she was so terrified of, they were the monsters.

But Changbin didn’t seem to see that. Felix didn’t blame him, he was blinded by both grief, as well as the overwhelming guilt that Hyunjin’s death was his fault. It wasn’t, of course. Felix was sure that if Changbin had stepped in, they simply would have killed him too. But that wasn’t what Changbin wanted to hear.

So, before he could properly comprehend what he was doing, he spoke. “I’ll do it,” he said, causing the two men to raise their eyebrows.

“Really?” Han asked nervously, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Felix, you don’t have to. You could get yourself killed.”

Felix knew this. Hell, he knew this well. He also knew it was the right thing to do. This girl at the library… If Changbin attempted getting close to her in the state he was now, he’d end up getting one of them killed. Han, bless his soul, was far too paranoid to pull it off. Even now, he tried to distance himself from the entire topic of vampires. Maybe it was fear, maybe he didn’t like the spite in Changbin’s voice when he discussed them, but in any case, Felix knew he wouldn’t be able to do this.

Besides, he could handle it. You deserved to be given a chance. Perhaps you were an exception, like the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook.

“I’m sure,” Felix said. And so your mutual destruction began.

~~~~

Felix had met you in the library under Changbin’s instruction. Made some small talk, a little bit flirty but nothing too wild. He was surprised to find that you were rather pretty, a clean academic look and mysterious eyes. He was also surprised to find that you were witty, as well. Charming.

Based on the way Changbin had described you, well, you were supposed to be nothing short of a demon sent from hell.

You were both sitting in silence, Felix watching as you translated passages from The Iliad into Greek. Which he had to admit, was undoubtedly impressive.

It was then he noticed how glazed over your eyes were, pupils blown out in hunger, just as Hyunjin had described in his journal. Which meant he also knew that you were struggling, refraining from eating.

That’s when he felt it, that slightest pinch of sympathy. You weren’t eating, which meant you also weren’t sucking people dry in their apartments for their roommates to see. No, you were refraining yourself, and that wasn’t a monstrous thing to do.

The pieces fell like dominos after that. He kissed you. You invited him back to your apartment. You both went inside. You kissed some more.

Then he proceeded to scare the ever living hell out of you.

The look on your face when he told you he knew still haunts him. The sheer terror in your eyes, the unchained panic and fear. It was the kind’ve look someone had right before death. As if he were going to murder you.

He hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t realized that him knowing you were a vampire would be so catastrophic to you. It wasn’t like you told him, he already knew, but that didn’t seem to matter.

He quickly made up a story about his old neighbors being vampires, anything to calm you down. Then, to his own surprise, he offered to let you drink from him.

This wasn’t a part of the plan. If Changbin saw what he was doing now, he’d ring his neck for sure. Yet, Felix was curious, even more so then he was before. This intimacy, this incredible feeling that Hyunjin talked about, was it really true? He wanted to know.

There was also the fact of the matter that he genuinely wanted to help you. You were so scared, so petrified, and he was to blame. You were not a monster. You weren’t. You were just a scared girl who had clearly been starving herself, and if he could help with that, he should, shouldn’t he?

You were hesitant at first, but you agreed. Climbing on top of him, your breath hot against his neck. He braced himself for your fangs. Yet even so, nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of breaking through his skin.

It was painful, a throbbing ache erupting from his neck and flowing throughout the rest of his body. Felix could feel the blood pumping through his veins, escaping through his newly punctured wounds. He grabbed your arm for support, his mouth opening in a cry from the pain. Although, he doubted you could hear him, based on the way you lapped so lavishly at the blood, leaning into him.

Yet, with the pain came an undeniable sense of pleasure, pulsing through his body in waves. A dizzying, overwhelming sense of ecstasy, clouding his mind in a hazy fog of desire. It was overwhelming, how the feeling casted over him, draining him of anything but eachother. Here it was just you and him. There was nothing else. Nothing but the two of you.

He didn’t want anything else. Your name rang through his skull, shattering all other thoughts that existed outside this moment. His vision blurred, all his senses drifting from him. Yet, he didn’t want them. Didn’t need them. All he needed was you. You. You. He felt himself fall back, sinking into the floor, his limbs growing limp.

Then it stopped. You pulled away from him. He blinked, attempting to regain a proper sense of consciousness. He saw your face, your beautiful face, and smiled.

At that moment he understood. He understood it all. How Hyunjin followed down that path, how in the end he didn’t regret it.

He knew he’d come to make all the same mistakes.

~~~~

So your little arrangement continued, and slowly it began to develop into more. While enjoyable, it wasn’t just about the feeding. Not at all.

Felix thought you were incredible, to put it lightly. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met. Clever, kind, selfless. You held an unbelievable sense of passion in everything you did.

His favourite days were the ones spent at your place. The comfort of your bed became his safe place. Your kitchen became his creative outlet. His home whenever he was wrapped in your arms.

No, nothing made Felix more happy than the time he spent with you.

That’s what he thinks of now, walking back home from your apartment, after having told you everything. You were angry of course, feeling lied to, betrayed. He doesn’t blame you. He blames himself.

He blames himself for everything that has happened. He knew what would happen from the beginning, what his sentence would be, he’d seen it all before. Yet, he chose to ignore it. Some little voice inside of him said that he was different, that it was merely unlucky what happened to Hyunjin. That you two would beat the odds.

Felix knows that he had been lying to himself. He knows Hyunjin had been careful, just as much as the two of you had been. He brought this upon himself.

Why? Because he loves you. He can admit it to himself now, after everything that has happened. He isn’t sure if you feel the same, especially after the last couple hours. He doesn’t blame you, if you don’t.

He should have just told you the truth from the beginning, but he didn’t want to lose you by scaring you again. His roommates wouldn’t tell anyone, he’d made sure of it when he talked to Changbin and Han a couple days ago. Now that was a horrible conversation, Changbin still hasn’t spoken to him since.

Felix had told both of them that things hadn’t worked out after the first night he spent with you. That way, he wouldn’t feel pressured in divulging anything you’d told him of The Society. As much as he hated them, so truly hated them, he’d promised you secrecy. He’d honoured that promise as much as he could, even if it ultimately put him in danger.

Yet, that’s not what he’s worried about right now. No, he is thinking of your face that first night you spent together, that look of pure terror. It was something he had never wanted to see again.

That hope was futile, however. As when he told you, he did have to see it again. Watch as your eyes widened, your mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed as he told you how his roommates knew. How he came to the library that night looking for you. The details of Hyunjin’s murder.

How a part of Felix knew that his fate could be the same.

You had walked into your kitchen, trying to get yourself away from him. Saying that you needed time to think this all through, and that he should do the same. After all, immortality and eternal bloodlust were two difficult things to be offered.

You told him to leave. He did. He’d said that he would call you within the next couple days, when he came to his decision. Then you’d turn him, if that’s what he decided, and that would be it. He didn’t know what this meant for the two of you afterwards, but there’d be time to figure that out later.

Oh, there would be so much time.

Because Felix already knows what his decision will be.

He hates Vampires. He hates The Society. The way they torment your life, just as they did to the girl in Hyunjin’s notebook. The way they killed Hyunjin. How Chan, someone you once trusted, turned the two of you in without a second thought.

But it doesn’t matter if he hates them. Not anymore.

As in this moment, Felix Lee has decided that he will become one himself.

next chapter.

137 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Unfinished Business ~ Part Nine

WORD COUNT: 7.3K

WARNINGS: Mentions of mafia, strong language, murder, blood, torture

PAIRING: Bang Chan X Reader

DESCRIPTION: Part Nine of nine of my new Bang Chan series.

You’re taken hostage but one of Seoul’s leading mafia families Bang Chan but he doesn’t take you because he wants to fake a marriage or make you fall for him in 365 days no…He wants to use you for his own personal gain. To take over another family but when you try to escape things take a turn for the worst and you learn Chan isn’t one to be messed with.(Please I suck at describing stuff)

THEMES: Chan x Fem!Reader, Self insert

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS |

The day had finally arrived, the day you had been dreading for the last two weeks, you'd barely left Chan's office from the moment you got back. The only times you ever came out of the office was to go to sleep - in his bed - or when Jisung and Changbin forced you to eat something downstairs so you wouldn't have to feel so alone. But today was something you weren't going to be able to survive, something you'd have to get changed into real clothes for, for the first time in weeks instead of Chan's clothes you'd been wearing.

"The dress is in his bedroom," Changbin whispered, as he walked into the office to see you staring at the same set of photos you'd been staring at for the last few days. They were of Chan and his ex-wife, standing together and smiling.

"Y/n-" He went to repeat himself to make sure you heard him. You'd been so lost in your own world lately he just wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.

"I know, Changbin," Over the two weeks you'd gotten closer with him. He began trying to comfort you to make up for what had happened with Chan, never once telling you that it had been the plan to leave you there all along.

"I'll go and change now," You muttered, standing up from the leather chair and walking out into the hallway. Jisung, Felix and Minho were all standing there in matching black suits with their heads hanging low as you walked into the hall to join them. They'd been talking in hushed tones but stopped as soon as you came out,

"Who am I riding with?" You questioned, clearing your throat as you looked up at each of the boys who were avoiding your gaze. It's what all of them had been doing all week, it bothered you. They were treating you as though you were broken glass, tiptoeing around you and whispering about something you could never hear. You'd heard them whispering at night when they thought you were asleep - you would lay awake most nights. Staring at the same photos of Chan and his wife wondering if they were together now or if he was still around you all as a ghost.

"You'll be with me." Jisung cleared his throat, being the first one to break the silence and everyone walked away from you so you could be alone with him.

"Thanks, Jisung," He knew you were most confident with him. Knowing that if you had to cry, it would be better to do it around him than the others. Plus they all had places to be today and had to make sure they were on their best guard. Jisung had been the one to keep you comforted throughout Chan's death and the two weeks leading up to now. Mostly because he'd been the only one able to stay in the same room as you, as you cried out about it all.

"We're gathered here today to say goodbye to someone who was loved by many people," You were sitting in front of the coffin, holding a red rose that Jisung had given to you before you sat down. The rest of the boys were scattered around the graveyard looking around for something, you knew it was their job to pay attention to everything going on around them but none of them was crying. None of them had been crying since the day it had happened and it bothered you about how they were so cold about this,

"We believe a few people have chosen to speak so please stand up.” You watched as Felix walked up to the coffin first, clearing his throat into the microphone. He looked at you and then to Jisung beside you and nodded, as if they were having some kind of conversation.

"I knew Chan for four years, he took me under his wing when I first moved to Korea. Many people will tell you that he was a bad guy for what he did in the business but he was well respected and did everything by the books unless he had a real reason not to." You looked down at the floor not wanting to cry, memories of Mrs Lu came flooding back to you as you remembered the night that Chan had her killed.

"He never hurt anyone, he would put out fronts of hurting people but he never did. It was all part of his bigger plan." A hand was placed on top of yours, but it wasn't Jisung's like you expected it to be. You turned your head to the left side to see Mrs Lu smiling weakly, as she kept her head forward looking at Felix who was still going on with his speech. Your mind was filled with confusion and your mouth hung open as you stared at her. For a moment you'd thought you'd died and this was hell for you, being forced to go to the funeral of the man you loved.

"He took on many people, faked their deaths if they needed to get away from somebody bad. He'd help them start a brand new life, helping them out of their debts with other mafia families, mostly out of Namjoon's life; giving them that fresh new start they needed." There was some shuffling happening behind the chairs, people mumbling as someone pushed past them with a walking stick and you looked over your shoulder to see someone moving towards the coffin.

"J-Jisung who's that?" You whispered, leaning closer to him so no one else could hear you. A man dressed in a baseball cap was walking towards the front with a limp and a walking stick. A gunshot rang out causing you to scream in shock, Jisung dragged you onto the floor along with Mrs Lu. Everything was happening all at once, bringing flashbacks back to the night you lost Chan. The man who had been walking to the front was on the floor, the coffin knocked over with a mannequin on the floor where Chan should have been if he was inside of it.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, another gunshot rang out and you were covered in blood again. You gasped out, flinching as the shot sounded,

"JISUNG?!" You cried out, turning to see if he had been the one to get hurt. But he was holding you and smiling up at someone above you. You looked up to see Chan holding a gun that had been fired recently, covered in blood and aiming the gun down at the man who had knocked the coffin over.

"What. The. Fuck?" You struggled to get up from underneath Jisung. But once you were up, you stepped over the dead body in front of you not bothering to check who it was. Because it wasn't important to you right now, Chan smiled at you brightly expecting you to hug him or kiss him. But he was shocked when he got a slap across his cheek, before you ran away from him. He held his face watching you walking away, he guessed he deserved it for faking his own death.

"Y/n?!" He called out, but you ignored him sobbing into your hands as you rushed towards the car that Jisung had driven you to the funeral in. Jisung looked at Chan rushing over to you to get you home safely, since you were in no fit state to drive right now.

"Y/n," It was Jisung this time. You'd been back at the mansion for a couple of hours now and Chan had been trying to worm his way into the spare room, but you hadn't let him. You couldn't see him so you refused to, sitting in front of the door so he wouldn't bang it down.

"Food." He placed a plate on the table and you stared at him, wondering if he knew everything that was going to happen today.

"You knew he was alive didn't you?" You questioned. You were still dressed in the black dress you had been wearing to the funeral, which was pointless now that you looked at it. It had all been fake. His death, the funeral, all to get to Namjoon who was now dead and laying in a coffin of his own. There was no doubt in that after the bullet went right between his eyes. That was who you had stepped over to slap Chan round the face.

"I did, but-"

"Why didn't you tell me?! I cried over him for weeks! You let me suffer for nothing!" You yelled, but there was a knock at the door. Chan was standing there holding his side which was where he'd been shot, but you had no sympathy for him right now. As much as your heart was begging to go over to him, you couldn't. Jisung left the room as soon as Chan came inside and you scoffed,

"He had orders to keep his mouth shut you can't be mad at him-"

"I can be mad at whoever I want, you especially!" You yelled, pointing your finger in his face and pushing him back so he would stumble back hitting the wall. He shook his head at you, he knew you had to get your anger out somehow and if this was how you were going to do it, then so be it. You hit his chest with your fist, right before breaking down into tears and falling to your knees as he wrapped his arms around you.

"I had to do it, we had to draw him out...We knew he was after you that night...We had to do it, Y/n" You whimpered against his arms, wondering what he was talking about. You'd only mentioned him faking his death, but he was coming clean about everything.

"I have to be honest with you about everything, just listen to me please." You sobbed into his arms and he instantly felt bad for everything he'd put you through. He'd already gotten it in the neck from Changbin and Jisung about everything you had been through, even though most of what happened on your date night had been Changbin’s idea. Changbin and Jisung wanted to tell you from the start that he wasn't dead, but they had to use your sadness and pain as a way to make it look real to Namjoon. It was the only way he was ever going to come out and make sure that Chan was in fact dead. That he'd gotten away with killing one of the biggest mafia leaders in Seoul. Now he was gone there was no reason for Chan to be in hiding, Namjoon's shares would go straight to Chan who in return was letting a bunch of people off with their loans. But all you could hear was that he was using you to win something he wanted,

"W-Was I a pawn this whole time?" You questioned, remembering that very first time Chan had taken you and accused you of working for Namjoon. The very first time he'd hurt you and told you he was going to kill everyone you loved - when he, in fact, hadn't. Mrs Lu was very much alive and doing a lot better, she and her husband were living out of Seoul in some richer neighbourhood better off, with a new restaurant to run happily together. Has everyone been in on it? Laughing behind your back? While you mourned for someone who wasn't dead?

"No...At first, yes. But then I started to fall for you, it got harder to stay away from you and keep you at a distance. You were just supposed to help me lure Namjoon out and the boys would take him out no matter the costs. But I found myself falling for you Y/n, I didn't want to risk putting you in danger anymore so I wanted to stop, have it all over faster..." He took a deep breath looking at you,

"That night, when we went on our date, I was supposed to leave you in the gardens for a while but not long. Just long enough for Namjoon to come out so we could get him, but then when you told me you loved me, I freaked out. No one is supposed to love someone like me." He whispered, feeling suddenly pathetic in front of you for everything he'd done. He hadn’t thought of you when he left you there, he'd just left you in danger as he thought about saving himself from getting hurt by you.

"You used me, knowing that Namjoon would come to me because he did the same for your wife?" You pushed yourself away from Chan. Everything was too much all at once, all of the facts coming right at you, it was starting to make your head hurt. Had this all been some kind of sick revenge for Chan? Had he felt nothing? You tried to move away from him, but his arms stayed locked around you, not wanting to let you leave him there alone. He was done running from his feelings for you now.

"I will explain everything when you calm down..."

"Calm down?! You faked your death! I mourned for you for two weeks and all this time...While what? You've just been off partying?" You got up from the floor wiping your eyes.

"Healing from a gunshot wound actually," He grunted, still trying to make things light hearted. But you shook your head at him, not wanting to waste your tears on this, but you gave him no time to stop you from leaving him on the floor.

"You have to talk to him," Changbin said, when he walked into the garden that night. You were sitting by the firepit that they had, looking into the flames while drinking from a glass of hot chocolate. You didn't know if you could leave and even if you could, you had nowhere to go.

"No, I don't. I don't have to talk to any of you. I want to leave." You'd been thinking it over since you left Chan on your bedroom floor. There was no sense in staying when he'd faked his death and faked the killing of someone you held close to your heart. If he'd just been honest from the start, maybe things could have been different. But this was too big of a lie for him to come back from.

"Y/n, you don't mean that. You're just upset." You'd had enough of people telling you what you did and didn't mean and what you did and didn't feel. You threw the cup off at the pavement listening to it smash against the floor.

"Shut up! You don't know a damn thing about what I am feeling! I love him! It was that easy for him to just walk away and hurt me, as if it meant nothing to him! Leaving me alone, cold and out as bait!" You yelled to him, walking along the grass towards the giant mansion and making your way inside. Chan was standing there looking at you with sad eyes, he'd heard you yelling and wanting to come down and calm you down.

"Can we talk?" You walked away without answering him. Heading towards the stairs, but it was blocked off by Felix, he wasn't about to let you pass until you at least acknowledged that Chan had been speaking to you.

"What? If I don't talk you're just going to chain me up in the basement like old times?" That tore a hole in his chest, hearing you bring up the basement like that it was clear to Chan that you were upset over everything that was happening. But you didn't need to lash out on everyone else, so he wasn't going to take it to heart.

"I hurt you, I know-"

"No Chan! Hurting me was when you sprained my ankle by keeping me locked up like an animal! This! Making me fall in love with you and then ripping the world out from underneath me! That was fucking torture." You whimpered, finally giving in to the tears. You ran your hands through your hair, wanting to rip it out as you let out every emotion all at once. All of the hurt and anger you felt towards him had been building up and you'd finally hit your breaking point.

"Leaving me out there as fucking bait because Namjoon was worth it more than I ever was, wasn't he?" You wanted straight answers from him. It was going to be the only way to get them out of him, then so be it. You were going to be as nasty as you could possibly manage.

"Yes, but the plan was to come back right away, it was going to be safer than what it was that night I left-"

"Safer?! What was the plan!? I could have helped! But instead, I was chained up in some sicko's warehouse where he burnt me, spat at me and called me names I never even want to repeat! Cut me, threatened to shoot me and all for what?!" Your voice was hoarse because you were crying and yelling all at once,

"For your own selfish reasons?! For you to be able to say you took down one of the biggest leaders!?" He looked down at the floor, it had originally been the plan to get Namjoon to come out so the boys could take him down as revenge for his wife. The plan would be for him to see you and want you because they all knew Namjoon wanted what Chan had. He thought he could use you without getting attached and hurt, but it hadn't worked that way. You'd been too nice and kind to him for him to ever want that,

"Originally it was the plan." He wasn't going to waste his time lying to you anymore, he looked down at the floor.

"I thought you worked for him and if he saw you with me it would create some kind of war and he'd come after me and then you weren't working for him...So I was going to use you more, which was why he was everywhere we went...He had us followed the moment he first saw us together. But I never expected to fall for you!"

"Oh, so because you didn't expect to fall for me it makes it all okay?! It's fine! You were just going to throw me out once the plan was done, so what does it matter?" He groaned, running his hands through his black hair. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, but he knew Changbin was.

"Changbin, explain it to her please." But Changbin kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to get involved in other people's business, even if it was his plan. Even though he didn't like you very much back then, he wanted to go back to you at the gardens. But Chan wouldn't allow it, he was too busy locking himself away and breaking things in his office.

"Answer these questions, were you or were you not going to use me against Namjoon for your own good?"

"I was." He replied. You nodded, understanding him,

"Was the original plan to kill me once you killed Namjoon?" He froze in place before nodding his head,

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." He answered that quickly and you stared at him. There was a point where you'd kill to hear that from him. That first night when he left you in the gardens practically naked and alone, you'd have killed for him to stay beside you and admit he loved you too. The old lady in the nursing home was right, loving someone like that was dangerous. You'd fallen right into his open arms, sinking so far down you had no idea if you even wanted to get out of there.

"Y/n?" You stepped back as he stepped closer, shaking your head at him and moving away. Your back hit the wall as you thought about everything.

"Like you weren't doing the same to me...Pretending to like me-"

"Chan...There was a difference, you were keeping me prisoner here...Are you going to do the same now that I know everything?" He shook his head and you nodded.

"I need space." You whispered, staring at the floor instead of at him. If you looked at him, all of this would be over. You wouldn't be able to listen to your head, which was making good points. You would instead listen to your heart, that was telling you to leap into his arms and forget everything that had happened. But how could you after everything he had done and put you through in such a short time period? It was too much to be with him.

"I can give you space, you can stay upstairs-"

"I need space away from you." You spoke up this time, not daring to meet his gaze. Jisung stepped forward as you rushed towards the staircase, pushing past all of them this time. If you stayed in the house where you got to see him every day it would be too easy for you to give in to him and not see clearly enough.

"Take her somewhere she'll be safe, she's not to go back to the bad side of town...She'll need a guard," Chan swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't about to cry in front of the boys over this, but he started up the stairs as he heard you whimpering in your bedroom. He would wait until you were out of the house and he could release his anger onto something else.

"She'll need a place to stay. I'll wire her some money, Jisung will you stay with her or at least near her." He was being unusually calm about all of this, but the boys didn't say a word to him. Not wanting to poke the bear as it was, Changbin knew what was going to come when everyone went home or to different parts of the house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two Months Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tea was steaming as you poured it into the ceramic cup, trying not to spill any of the hot liquid onto the table,

"Where is that boyfriend of yours?" Mrs Park asked, as you stepped away from her table to place the pot of tea onto the tray that was waiting behind you,

"Sooyoung! You can't ask such things." You softly laughed at the ladies in front of you who you were serving tea to, you'd begun working in the nursing home full time. They'd ask you this all of the time, hoping you'd change your mind about Chan. But it never happened, you just ignored their question and continued on with your job.

"Besides, he always comes by on Fridays to see her." You knew that. You'd seen him sitting out on the bench every Friday for the last two months with a bouquet of flowers, waiting for you to tell him to come inside, but you never had the strength to do it. You loved him. You knew that. But loving him and allowing him to be in your life was two separate things, just because you loved someone didn't mean you had to be with them. You wanted to be happy but being with Chan brought on a wave of emotions, not just happy...though that had been the main focus at one point for you.

"She has to see him at some point, they have unfinished business." Your grandfather mumbled from the other table, not looking away from his dominos in front of him. He still had no idea as to who you were, but he treated you with respect just like he did every worker there. Though he did treat you a little better than the rest, since you were closer with him than the other nurses. You did have unfinished business, but it wasn't anyone else's problem except your own and Chan’s.

"We don't have unfinished business." You told him, as you turned around to hear your phone vibrating from the trolley behind you. You groaned walking over to it and turning it over, yet another text from the doctor informing you about your late appointment that you had with them. You'd been avoiding it like the plague ever since that last one you had.

"It's not supposed to rain today, we were supposed to go to the botanical gardens!" Sooyoung cried out, as Nurses poured into the room to make sure everyone was okay. A sudden thunderstorm had come out of nowhere causing you to drop your phone, nurses were helping patients out of there quickly. Some of them were sensitive when it came to things like thunderstorms happening.

"You dropped this, dearie." Your grandfather said, holding up your phone for you to take. You took it and thanked him before helping the nurses out with patients.

It was a long drive to the hospital from the nursing home, even longer since you'd tried to get there in a thunderstorm. Chan hadn't been to the nursing home for a couple of weeks, which seemed like a good thing to you. You weren't going to have to face him until after this scan...You knew deep down it was wrong to keep this from him since it was his child, but he was who he was. You weren't sure if you could bring a child into his life, your mind was split once again.

If it wasn't for being pregnant, you would go back to Chan in a heartbeat, you'd spent months crying over everything that had happened. Overthinking every small detail that had happened that last time you saw him and you realised that no matter what, you still loved him hopelessly.

"I have an appointment," You stuttered out to the blonde receptionist who looked you up and down.

"Name?" Your eyes glanced over her. She looked like a nice girl, but was coming across mean.

"Y/n Y/l/n," She nodded and began typing it into the computer. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she was wearing scrubs, she looked like she might have been a nurse rather than a receptionist.

"You're on the fourth floor, take the elevator at the end of the hall and it'll bring you out on the correct ward," Taking the sheet of paper with your name and appointment on, you followed her orders and walked down the hallway. It was brightly lit and filled with people all doing their own business in the hospital, you glanced over your shoulder as you felt eyes on you. Since the charity event with Chan eyes had been on you a lot. Whenever you went to the store people would stare at you, expecting to see Chan somewhere behind you, but you were alone all of the time. "Miss? Are you coming inside?" An elderly woman questioned, you nodded and stepped into the elevator with her and a little girl who was holding her arm and crying. From the looks of it, it looked badly broken so she was probably in a lot of pain.

"Fourth floor," The robotic voice called out. You let the elderly woman and her granddaughter out first before following behind them towards the second receptionist. You handed her your piece of paper and she flashed her teeth at you,

"One moment please," Her long red nails were hitting the keyboard as she typed and you watched her as she smiled brightly at nothing,

"You can wait in the second waiting room," Nodding, you walked away from the desk and the crying girl. Heading over to one of the waiting rooms, it was completely empty so you took the first seat closest to you. Though you'd never been for one of these before you thought for sure that it would be a lot busier than this. The whole waiting room was empty, it made you feel uneasy, but you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down. The thought of doing this all alone was terrifying, more terrifying to you than that night you'd been with Namjoon. Thoughts of you raising a baby alone in this world began to cloud your judgement, making you think of nothing but Chan.

To help the time pass by, you began reading through a magazine that was in the waiting room, but you wished you'd never picked it up. The page you'd flicked it open to was a photo of you and Chan leaving the Charity event when he'd picked you up. Your foreheads were resting against one another as you smiled, out of the corner of your eye someone entered the room.

"Did you have me followed?" You questioned as you shut the magazine. Placing it into your bag, you hoped Changbin didn't see the smile that was on your face while you were looking at the photos, but he'd seen it. How couldn't he have seen it? It was the first time you'd smiled properly in months and it lit up the entire room.

"Why would I have you followed? It's my job to watch over you," He reminded you, as he began to flick through a newspaper that he'd brought with him. You squinted to see the date, it was a recent newspaper.

"Give me the paper, there's nothing good here," You held out your hands. but he ignored you and continued pretending to read the newspaper that was in front of him.

"Changbin-"

"We came to an arrangement, remember? You pretend I'm not here and I don't talk to you...Would you like me to tell Chan where you are right now?" His eyebrows raised as he turned to look at you, your stomach sank and you looked away from him remembering the deal you'd made.

Jisung was supposed to be the one watching over you, but Changbin took his place since he felt so bad for all of this unfolding. He blamed himself for you leaving Chan, since it had been his plan in the first place. The deal was that Changbin could watch you without talking to you, you didn't want to know what Chan was doing. It would only make getting over him -- or trying to get over him -- harder and Changbin wouldn't tell Chan what was happening.

"You don't need to tell Chan where she is right now, he already knows." Chan's voice came out and you stood up instantly and stared at him. Your eyes were almost as wide as Changbin's as you stood staring at his boss.

"We'll talk later. Home." He had ordered Changbin, who scuttled out of the waiting area, knowing he was already in trouble enough without causing a fight here. Your back was pressed against the wall as you watched Chan calmly walk into the waiting area, sitting down on the chair where Changbin had been.

"You can sit," He mumbled to you, you sat back down in your seat and glanced at him. He hadn't changed, but there was something about him that was new, his head lifted and that was when you saw it. A scar going from the top of his brow to under his eye on the right side of his face, you filled with worry as you saw it.

"Chan? What happened?" He frowned. Then glanced at you as you pointed to his eye, his hand slowly raised to his fingers to his face and he nodded.

"Had an accident, it's nothing-" He froze as you were sitting next to him suddenly, running your fingers over the scar, he hadn't expected you to get this close to him. He was just here out of moral support for you.

"I-Is this why you stopped coming by?" He held back the smile that was threatening to escape. You'd missed him almost as much as he missed you, by the sounds of it. But he couldn't lie to you, so he wasn't going to try. From this point forward he was going to be as honest as he could with you without scaring you away.

"Yes." He answered plainly, not wanting to give too much to you.

"What- What happened? Did someone do this to you?" You panicked, thinking someone else was after him, but he shook his head. It had been an accident with the boys, he'd gotten into a fight with Changbin after you left the way you did.

"It doesn't matter," He mumbled, not wanting this to be about him. He lowered your hands away from his face whenever you tried to make him look at you. Since he got the scar he hadn't been able to look at himself in the mirror, it was one of the reasons he stopped coming by. He didn't want you to see him with this scar on his face, he was insecure about it, but it was nothing to you.

"It does matter! You've been hurt and I lo-"

"Y/n Y/l/n," A nurse interrupted you before you had a chance to finish what you were trying to say to him, you'd wished she hadn't. You wished you had more time to tell him what was happening, but he clearly knew you were probably pregnant.

"Coming." You stuttered out as you stood up from the chair and looked at Chan who was eyeing you up.

"I'll wait here if you want?" You nodded at him, before he even had time to finish his sentence. You wanted him to be there. There was a chance this wasn't even a pregnancy. You'd been in for a test for something else and the doctor at the GP told you that you'd come back positive for pregnant, but there was absolutely no way. The thought of being pregnant alone terrified you. But would you really be alone? You loved Chan...You could do this together. Couldn't you?

"Have you had an ultrasound before?" You nodded at her question and got up onto the bed, you'd had them before to scan your liver and kidneys when you got sick before.

"This will be a little cold, roll your t-shirt up for me," You did as she said and looked at the ceiling. She applied some cream onto your stomach and then applied the wand to scan your stomach. You were sure your lip would start bleeding the way you were biting down on it so hard, you weren't ready for a child, were you? The whole drive over here you'd been thinking about it. Trying to figure out if you were ready for this, but there was no way you could go to bring a child into this world knowing what you knew, but you'd always wanted to be a mother.

"Hmm," She pressed harder onto your stomach and you thought you were going to burst. They'd told you to come in with a full bladder to make it easier for them to see inside and every small push was pushing you closer to peeing yourself.

"Go and pee for me and come right back," Following her orders you walked out of the room and to the bathrooms to pee, Chan caught sight of you and sprung to his feet in a rush.

When you came back out you were face to face with Chan who looked worried, the panic was written across his face as he watched you coming closer to him. He had no idea what to say to you, what he could ask. He'd never been in this position before.

"What happened? What did she say?" You shook your head at him, as you began walking to the room again with him by your side.

"She didn't, she wanted me to pee first..." He watched as you hesitated about going back into the room, your whole body was frozen as you waited to go inside.

"I don't want to do this alone..." You admitted to yourself and to Chan while looking at the door handle instead of him. There was one thing you knew for sure: pregnant or not, you wanted Chan by your side throughout everything from now on. You wanted him there through every moment of your life.

"Do you want, Changbin?" He began, turning to reach his phone from his pocket. You placed your hand on his wrist and shook your head at Chan's question. Looking up at him while swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat,

"I-I want you to come in with me," You whispered, as you finally admitted it to him and yourself, he nodded and opened the door for you.

The screen lit up and you were left to stare at it for a second, while the nurse worked her way around your stomach with the machinery,

"Here," She whispered, clicking onto the screen with her free hand to point out what was happening. Chan's hand was holding yours when a sound began to play through some speakers, you didn't know what it was until she spoke to you.

"Strong and healthy heartbeat." She whispered calmly, as you let out a gasp listening to the thumping happening. Your eyes filled with tears as you glanced up to Chan, tears were rolling down his face.

"There you go, here's the little one." She zoomed the screen in to show you a baby moving around inside, it was hard to see with the screen being so black and white and 2D but there they were. Your child sitting happily on the screen while you and Chan stared at them.

"I'll get some photos for you," She whispered, as she began clicking away on the keyboard snapping multiple photographs of the baby.

"You look about two months so the little one is perfect. You'll be able to find out the gender around your four-month mark." If the nurse continued talking, you didn’t know. You and Chan had drowned her out as you watched the screen together, happily smiling as you stared at it.

"I'll give you both a moment while I go to get the photos." She clicked a button on the screen and the baby stayed on while she began to clean your stomach up.

"I'll be right back." She stated, as she walked out of the room.

The door to her office shut and you stared at Chan before you stared back at the screen, neither of you quite believing the fact that there was a baby on the screen. Your baby.

"A baby," You whispered to him, still in shock as you watched the screen. The one time you have sex, it would be your luck to end up pregnant.

"Our baby," He whispered back to you, as he sat down beside you on the nurse's bed in shock. When he followed Changbin to the hospital he thought there was something wrong at first, he never expected you to be carrying his child. You glanced up at him wondering what all of this meant now, what this meant between you and Chan.

"Chan-"

"Move back in with me," You spoke at the same time together, you stared at him for a couple of seconds while you weighed up the pros and cons of everything going on. Raising the child alone could never work and you could never take Chan away from his son or his daughter, that would be too spiteful on your part.

"You don't have to think about it right now, but I want you to think about it. Y/n, I can't eat or sleep without you. I feel sick whenever I think about you being alone and when I followed Changbin today, I thought you were sick or something worse-" He began to ramble on about how scared he was, but you cut him off by grabbing onto his hands again.

"I'll do it." You surprised yourself as you said the words to him, his eyes widened as he realised what you were agreeing to, agreeing to go back to him.

"Y-You'll move back in?" He stuttered over his words as he got excited at the prospect of you coming back. You shook your head at him again - it was starting to make you dizzy.

"I have conditions first." You weren't going to go back there with his life the way it was.

"Anything," The door opened and the nurse came in with paperwork and ultrasound photos. You and Chan began making your way out of the hospital and towards your car.

"No more secrets or schemes, no more guns in the house. If we're coming back I want- I want it to be a safe place." You stuttered a little as you realised what you were saying, then it hit Chan what you were saying.

"The guns have to stay in the office at least, for our own protection," He counter-offered, you nodded in agreement with him. The finer details could be sorted out later when you were in the comfort of his home. That was probably the better option for his lifestyle,

"That's your only condition?" You nodded along with him, it was the only thing that mattered to you. As long as the house was safe and ready for your baby you could do it.

"I want a safe space for us too...All three of us." You looked up at him and he looked at your car that was waiting for you to get inside of, he smiled at the thought of you keeping it. It was the car he'd ordered one of the boys to drop off to you, he didn't want you walking everywhere or catching a bus when he knew you didn't have to.

"Y/n?" You hummed, looking up at him again whilst unlocking the car.

"I love you." Your heart swelled as you heard him tell you he loved you first, instead of you saying it first like the first time.

"I love you too, Chan," You moved closer to him, before placing a small and gentle kiss on his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing up on your tiptoes to reach him.

You weren't blind, you knew that there was going to be hard times coming for you and Chan with this baby and his lifestyle but right now you didn't care.

There were still things you had to talk about, but all you could focus on, all that was keeping you sane throughout all of this, was knowing how much you loved Chan. How much Chan truly loved you and how much your future with him and his child was going to mean to you both. Nothing would ever compare to your love for Chan and you couldn't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

A/N: I've never ever finished a fic before so I hope this is okay! I had a completely different ending for this but i hated it and reworked it the last week before it was uploaded! So let me know what you guys think! [Lol I simp i could never kill him]

Tagline: @moonprincessdiviniation my editor I have put through hell, @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @calling-dips-on-j-hope @hugs4chan @ncitythoughts @inseonqt @cloudsgathering @atletino @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @freckledquokka @happygirl327 @seraplantery @km-98

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dameronology · 3 years

Text

written in the stars (poe dameron)

summary: after months of going back and forth, you & poe are finally forced to have a conversation that you’ve been avoiding. it’s bound to hurt, but he’ll never give up hope.

warnings: swearing, angst

i hope u enjoy!

- jazz

You and Poe had broken up.

But also...had you really?

I should preface this by saying it was complicated - a tale as old as time, right? Two people who were still in love, but couldn't find it within them to stay and fight; but you couldn't find the tenacity you needed to leave, either. It left you in a state of limbo, half way between the gates of heaven and the flames of hell. Try as you might, and as many times you'd told your friends with complete bluster that it was over, it never really was. You couldn't quit Poe, and he was pretty addicted to you too. Your feelings weren't a switch. You couldn't just turn them off. That would have been pretty fucking convenient, but nothing about the human brain ever was. The very galaxy in which you existed thrived on complications: love and war, rain and shine, good and bad. Your relationship was like a smaller scale model of that. A constant back and forth between a state of battle and times of peace. That was what had forced you away in the first place: if you were in love, would it not have been peaceful all the time? At what point did you draw the line between passion and toxicity? He didn't know and neither did you.

The entire separation was a pointless fete really, because even if you were physically apart, Poe Dameron still owned your ass and staked a large claim in your heart. Your times with him had been some of the best; he was some of the best. It was just that you were both stubborn, and fighting in more than one type of war. It was all well and good to be head over heels, but only when the timing was right. The leap was only worth it if there was water to catch you, and in your case, it was jagged rocks. That hadn't been enough to stop you constantly running back to him though, bloodying yourself up time after time.

It was always just for one night. Usually after a few drinks and some pretty intense eye contact, and you'd be falling back between the sheets together. There was always the whispered promise of I'll be gone in the morning, but then you'd wake up in his arms and know in your soul that it wouldn't be the last. You swore to yourself it was but even for someone as stubborn as you, it was a hard pact to keep. How many just one nights had you shared together? It was probably ten. Maybe in the ballpark of fifteen. And then, once you'd stopped lying to yourself for the sake of self flattery, you would realise that it was more like twenty. Maybe twenty five? You weren't keeping track. That wouldn't have been good for either of you.

The morning after your twenty seventh just one night, you'd woken to a quiet room. Everyone in the Resistance had been out late, and the base was peaceful, save for the sound of the whirring of the boiler and the occasional clanging of the pipes above you. Poe's arms were tightly around your waist, holding you to his chest. His curls were tickling your neck as he quietly snoozed, head buried in your neck.

It was the first few moments of blissful, bleary-eyed ignorance. You know the seconds immediately after you wake up, when the circumstances were beyond you and your own name was a mystery? You willed yourself to stay in them, to not remember who you were or why you were in Poe Dameron's bed. Thinking about it would hurt.; remembering would have hurt. A cold reminder that the best thing in your life had become another victim of the war. That you weren't together and hadn't been for a while. Months, actually. Bare times like these, you'd let him slip away a long time ago.

You were the realist out of the two of you. Poe Dameron was a hopeless fucking romantic and every time you fell back into his arms, it gave him a little glimmer of hope. A tiny piece of anticipation that you would forget your existing problems and say come home, baby. He knew it was foolish but in times like these, pipe dreams were the only way people got through the day. Day-dreaming of romanticism against the back drop of a raging war was more common than not. Even Leia Organa dared to let herself dream. What else did anyone really have?

'Morning.' Poe quietly whispered.

He was in a similar state to you, knowing that last night had been a mistake (your twenty seventh, to be exact) but not wanting for it to be over just yet. If you could pretend for a little longer, even just five minutes-

'I have to go.' You sighed softly.

'Got a meeting?' He asked. 'On a Sunday morning?'

'No, Poe.' You murmured. 'I just gotta go.'

'Or could you not do that.' His grip on you tightened, head coming to rest on your shoulder. 'And stay here forever.'

Forever. That was a funny word. One you used to say to each other a lot - every day, in fact. I'll love you forever. I'll stay forever. That first one was true, at least. Forever was a big word. It was bigger than you and it was bigger than Poe. Neither of you knew what you'd been promising at the time.

'You know I can't.' You tried not to turn around, tried not to face him. The minute you caught wind of his warm eyes, you knew that would be it. The sad look on his face was enough to make you want to back-track on everything.

'Why do you always do this?' His voice was despondent. Poe let go of you, propping himself up on his elbows.

'Me?' You raised your eyebrows. 'It takes two tango-'

'- I don't mean that. I don't mean last night.' He pulled the covers further up his body as he sat up. 'I mean now. In the mornings.'

'What do you mean, Poe?'

'You're always the one to leave.' He said. 'You have a foot halfway out the door before I even wake up. Fuck, you have a foot half way out the door the whole night. You don't even bother shutting it behind you.'

'You know why.' You didn't bother to argue, instead clambering across him and out of bed. 'We've had a thousand conversations about it.'

Poe followed you out of bed, winding the sheet around his waist. He watched as you darted around the room, picking up your clothes that had gone flying the previous night. You pulled them on with haste - you just wanted to get out. The entire atmosphere was suffocating, threatening to swallow you whole and chew you up. That would have been preferable, actually. Poe wasn't usually this resistant when you'd left in the mornings before. He usually waved you off without a worry. Now, he was asking questions. Questions that you didn't want to answer, even if you knew what to say.

'That's the thing.' Poe said. 'I don't. I know we had our issues but the more I think about it, the more I realise that we can still make it work.'

'We can't!' You stopped, shirt midway over your head. 'You're forgetting, Poe.'

'Forgetting what?'

'The fighting!' You tugged it over your head, forcing your arms through either side of the shirt. 'The arguing, the accusations, the sleepless nights-'

'- that's my shirt-'

'- the you did this! and you did that!' You continued to ramble, pulling the khaki button up and throwing it towards him. 'Don't you remember? We were so dependent on each other but we couldn't seem to stand each other either.'

Poe's shoulders slumped, and he dropped back into the mattress. Yeah, he remembered. Chosen to forget, probably. Things had been either really, really good or really, really bad and it got to the point where the good wasn't worth the bad. If it was meant to be, it would have been lots of good times sprinkled with a few bad times. Instead, it felt like you were constantly in a storm, wading through the rain in hopes of finding a sunny day. That wasn't how relationships were supposed to be.

'So why do we keep doing this?' He asked. 'I know we were bad at a lot of things but we can't even break up properly.'

'Because it's a half-way point.' You reasoned. 'One night stands mean that we can be together without being together. No strings attached.'

'But we are attached, baby.'

You gave him a knowing look. 'My point exactly.'

'Are we going to keep doing this?' Poe murmured. 'Because every time you leave, a little part of me dies inside.'

You paused, biting your lip for a moment. You both knew the answer to that question - you just didn't want to admit it. This whole thing had to stop. The pretending to hate each other during the day and running to each other at night had to cease. Like smoking, the best way to quit was by going cold turkey. Just as Poe had said, having one foot out the door and one foot inside wasn't going to cut it anymore. You were in or you were out.

And out was the only option.

'For what it's worth, I'd rather it be coming in and out of your room than a revolving door of hot people.' You said. 'That might have actually killed me.'

Poe let out a small snort, despite the situation. 'I miss you. I really, really miss you.'

'And I miss you.' You replied. 'But I don't miss...needing you. I've learnt to exist outside of me and you, and so have you. We're better as separate people.'

'Separate entities.' He nodded. 'Got it.'

'That means that we actually have to do this now.' Your voice wavered slightly. 'We have to actually end it. We have to put us in the past and put a lock on it.'

Poe's chest felt heavy. He knew it was stupid to have held out hope that you might change your mind, but the fact you kept coming back for more lead him to think that the idea wasn't entirely crazy. What you had together was rare, and he knew he'd never find it again.

So, he settled for closing this chapter. For saying goodbye to this relationship; this version of you and him. It didn't mean that it wouldn't happen again in future. Maybe if you both survived the war, you could take the time to work through what had torn you apart. You could sit down and figure things out. There was no guarantee of it - no promise or certainty - but it was all he had. Because Poe knew that he could never completely quit you. Even if you said the words out loud and swore that him and you would never happen again, he knew you. You were past the point of no return. Past the point of ever loving anyone else in the way you loved one another.

He knew that no matter what, you would come back to him. Maybe not now, but there were plenty of times in the future that weren't now. The idea that there might even be the slightest chance of you coming back and figuring it out was enough reason to fight. To fight for you, to fight for the galaxy, to fight for the Resistance.

Poe let you walk away. He let you get dressed, give him a watery smile and quietly shut the door behind you. Because he knew, no matter what, that you would come back to him. It was just the kind of thing that was written in the stars, like Leia Organ's bad-assery or Han Solo's sarcasm.

He didn't know when. He didn't know how. He just knew.

And that was enough, because he was certain he’d see you again.

tags: @joyfullyswimmingface @etherealsanakin @interwebseriesfan24 @itspdameronthings @xwing-baby @jbtwpk @spider-starry @marvelinsanity

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron imagines #poe dameron fan fiction #poe dameron blurb #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fan fiction #poe dameron angst #star wars angst #star wars x you

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cal-kestis · 3 years

Text

You’ve Been Lonely Too Long | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

(Part I of The Aftermath of Losing Everything)

moodboard/sketch/gifs made by me, please don’t repost :)

Summary: After parting with Grogu, losing his ship, and battling with the tenets of his Creed — Din is plagued by memories he fears will only ever exist in his past. But when he meets you, he’s surprised to see a bit of himself reflected in your eyes... and the family he still longs for. (Set after S2) Rating: M (for reasons that will happen eventually) Word Count: 6572 Warnings/Tags: Soft!Din, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut (non graphic), Action/Violence, Mentions of Blood, Hurt Comfort, Slow Burn, no use of ‘Y/N’, Din is wistful while talking about Grogu :’), he misses him A/N: Here it is! I've done a lot of research when it comes to lore, planets, etc. But I've taken a few creative liberties. Replies/comments are very welcome!

[Read on AO3] // [Series Masterlist]

Memories keep him awake more than he cares to admit.

They conjure themselves unbidden, slithering through the iron bars of his mind. And just before they burrow, just before they brand his brain, just before they emerge from the shadows and he can recognize them — images of bright eyes and petal ears, sound bites of gentle coos, memories he wants to keep locked like a treasure — they vanish like vapor.

Sometimes he tries to chase them, like a valuable quarry. But even illustrious bounty hunters like Din Djarin know what it’s like to lose. Especially at night, when memories morph into vicious nightmares... and he becomes the prey.

If he ever does sleep, he sure as hell never rests.

And no one would catch wise. That’s the beauty of beskar. Because — despite the deep purple rings circling his wrinkled eyes, the constant dry and chapped state of his lips, and the uncharacteristically unkempt stubble on his jaw — when he walks into a room, everyone only sees the harsh glint of metal armor, the precise swagger in his gait, the loaded blaster at his belt. A Mandalorian: legend coming to life. And everyone quakes in their boots.

Everyone except you.

After he had left Gideon’s light cruiser, helmet replaced on his head — an imposter’s crown — he’d expected to say his goodbyes and carry on the way he always did before everything changed, before the kid. Alone.

He hadn’t known his next move. But picking up another stray? Not part of the non-existent plan.

Yet here he is, coasting in hyperspace aboard his cold, newly bargained light freighter, watching his crewmate modify the jammers.

“Hand me that driver, will you?” You huff, wiping sweat off your brow.

He had found you on Tatooine almost three months ago, fighting off some spice-high lowlife in a dark adobe alley. He remembers seeing you throw a heavy punch to the man’s jaw, extending your other trembling hand toward his throat before softly shutting your eyes, brows pinched in gentle focus.

Something about you had felt familiar, something he couldn’t shake. Your outstretched arm had sparked a memory of tiny green claws. And it had all happened so quickly. You had your eyes closed, the man had reached for his blaster, but Din had always been the faster shot.

Smoke had wafted from the man’s chest, your eyes had opened in shock, and Din had disappeared before you could thank him.

Instead, you had managed to stow away on his ship that same night and hire yourself as his new crewmate.

“I have nowhere to go. No home, no family,” you had explained, eyes glistening. When he’d scrutinized you, he only found a small bag slung over your shoulder and a short, chewed-on pencil tucked behind your ear. “I’m a good worker. I can cook and I’m a decent pilot, a better mechanic. And I’m… crafty?”

“I work alone.” He’d said it so surely, but a cloud of sadness had hovered over the words as he’d forced saliva down his dry throat.

“You don’t have to. I can be a valuable asset to you. Take some weight off your shoulders. Be someone to talk to.”

You had glanced at his stoic frame, his silence filling the room like a smoke grenade.

“Well, you don’t have to talk. But I can be helpful.”

There had been something in your eyes, or maybe even beyond them… something in you, something so achingly familiar. He’d felt it floating around the ship, radiating off your skin, seeping through his beskar armor. And he’d sighed because he couldn’t have stopped his next words from tumbling off his tongue if he wanted to.

“Just don’t touch anything.”

He remembers how you’d gasped, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso without a second thought. And he’d just stiffened like solid carbonite, not allowing himself to dwell on how warm and soft you felt, and he’d gently pushed you off, disappearing into the cockpit.

You’re still chatting away as you continue tinkering with the jammers. You’re definitely a talker. But to him, everyone seems that way when silence is his chosen weapon of survival.

Below that primary qualification of ‘someone to talk to,’ he’d realized almost right after you joined his crew of two that your resume checked out. You’d been invaluable on this new, unfamiliar ship — helping him modify it until it had some of the Razor Crest’s best qualities. Some.

When small memories like that start flooding in and try to take him under headfirst, he thinks it’s better to be alone. At least then, he can decide whether to sink or swim. So, he excuses himself to the cockpit and you hum in acknowledgment, continuing your chatter despite being your own audience.

He spends a lot of time here in solitary silence, staring at the stars as they reflect off the tiny metal ball that hangs from a string on an unused lever. It’s the only token he has from that life — the days of flying the Crest system to system with a giggling child in the backseat.

More often than not, you find him here exactly like this: helmet hung low, a silver sphere pinched between two gloved fingers, millions of confined thoughts racing through his mind faster than hyperspace and clawing at his skull.

When you find him like this, you try not to speak. Just sit in the co-pilot’s seat and watch the stars with him.

And as he studies the little gear knob from his past life, the one question that passes through his mind the most is:

What can you do when the reason you’re hurting is likely the only thing that can heal you?

—

ii.

After many months on the freighter, you’re sure of two things when it comes to your new crewmate:

First, the Mandalorian doesn’t talk much. Or ever, really.

But you quickly get used to your questions — and there are many — being answered with a curt “yes” or “no,” sometimes a grunt or sigh thrown in when the question is just right. You don’t mind too much, it’s enough to get you familiar with the way the ship works and you always know what to expect from him.

When he’s not outside hunting a quarry on some Maker-forsaken outer rim dustball, leaving you inside to tamper with the ship’s outdated systems, he’s usually on one side of the freighter and you’re on the other. If he seems busy, you leave his food outside his quarters, and later, you find his dish empty and washed in the storage cupboard. And when you’re fighting for sleep in your bed, you hear his footsteps echoing all night long. But there are times when you both find yourselves in the small, shared space of the cockpit, when your desire to see the corners of space beyond Tatooine becomes too great to stay away. In those moments under the domed viewport — faced with a myriad of vibrant hues and tremendous textures and infinite stars — he doesn’t speak and you can’t find the words, giving way to a tranquil, transfixing silence neither of you wants to escape.

The second thing you’re sure of is: the Mandalorian gets hurt, a lot.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve watched him drag himself and an unconscious body onto his ship or holed himself up in the fresher, hissing in pain as he tended to his own wounds.

But this time, he comes back and collapses outside of the ship, unable to even pull himself up the ramp, much less the dead weight of the quarry. There’s hardly a thought in your mind as your feet scurry to his side, sprawled across the ground beside his target. You don’t wait for permission before you’re reaching for the gloved hand pressed firmly to the side of his stomach.

“No,” he grits out between his teeth, groaning when the tiny word seems to tear him apart where he’s already been gashed. “The quarry.”

You frown, almost rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. Always the job first.

Still, no arguments pass your lips when you turn to pull the heavy, unconscious Trandoshan by his bound wrists. It takes all of your strength to drag him up the steep incline of the freighter’s ramp, through the main corridor, and into the supply closet, Mando’s makeshift prison. You’d asked him about it before, one of your many questions, wondering if he should consider more secure holding quarters. And he’d responded with a surprisingly long (for him) statement, “Not as good as a mobile carbonite freezing system, but it does the job.”

After chaining up the quarry’s hands and ankles and locking the closet, you nearly trip over yourself while sprinting back to the groaning Mandalorian. You kneel beside him, pulling the hand pressed against his stomach over your shoulder to lift him on his feet. A harsh, metallic scent suddenly fills your lungs, drawing your gaze to the blood-stained palm of his glove dangling over your shoulder. You do your best to ignore it, refocusing your energy on lugging him into the ship. As soon as you reach the top of the ramp, your strength gives out, sending both your bodies collapsing to the floor with a dull thud. It’s a challenge disentangling yourself from his heavy limbs but once you manage, you quickly turn to examine him before his hand stops you again.

“Gang on our tail,” he rasps, coughing then groaning in pain. “Get us out of here.”

Your lips press into a straight line, a war waging behind your furrowed brow as you decide whether or not it’s smart to leave him alone, bleeding on the floor of the main hold. But his hand shakes as he squeezes your wrist in what you think is meant to feel comforting. You release a deep sigh before getting up to close the ramp and set coordinates in the cockpit.

When you return minutes later with a medpac, you find him stretched out on his back, his neck arching with a groan, and his glove clutching his stomach once more. You kneel beside him to assess the damage, reaching your hand to his waist before he grabs you again.

“You don’t have to,” he grunts. “I can do it.”

“I know you can,” you say, gently removing the glove trapping your wrist. “But so can I. And I can actually move my limbs at a normal, painless speed, get the job done quicker. So, please, let me.”

He sighs, giving a quick nod of his helmet before allowing you to partially remove his armor.

You start with the breastplate, remove the thick padding over his stomach, then grab the ever-present pencil behind your ear and use the dull end to lift the edge of his brown undershirt, just enough to reveal the knife wound in his side.

“What happened?” You gasp, quickly gathering antiseptic, a laser cauterizer, and bacta patches from the medpac.

“Ambushed,” he grunts, wincing as you clean the cut, your breath sliding across his skin as you lean in close.

“I’ve sustained some pretty bad knicks myself. Nothing as bad as this,” you joke lightly, switching the antiseptic for the cauterizer. When the laser touches his skin, he gasps and curls in on himself as you burn the wound closed. Instinctively, you grab his hand, the one not stained with blood, and interlace your fingers with his on the ship’s floor, letting him squeeze your palm as a distraction. “Nothing I couldn’t fix up. When you’re surviving on your own, you have to learn how to take care of yourself.”

“I know,” he says quietly. I work alone, he’d said when you met.

Even through the shadowy visor of his helmet, you feel his eyes on yours and stare back openly. But as always, you only see your own warped reflection in the silver gleam of his beskar.

“It helps to have the proper supplies,” you chuckle, tearing your eyes away from his helmet to finish closing up his wound. “This bacta patch should fix you up real good.”

After smoothing the gel bandage against his skin, your fingertips linger only a second too long on the exposed warmth of his tanned stomach. You pull down the hem of his shirt, starting to reach for the pieces of iron covering his arm but feel him stop you by squeezing your joined hands.

“They only got one jab in,” he says, his voice sounding more relaxed, almost cocky. But when he sees the worry on your face, his thumb sweeps lightly across your hand and he squeezes once more. “I promise. I’m fine.”

“You’d better be,” you warn, shaking your joined hands in front of your face like a cranky geezer. “Because I’m not carrying two unconscious bodies off this ship when we land.”

He huffs out a short breath, only wincing slightly at the movement. Without another word, you pull his arm around your shoulder once more, limping him toward his sleeping quarters to rest. But you stop just outside the door, not wanting to encroach on his privacy.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning his hand against the doorway.

“Your gloves,” you say, his helmet tilting in confusion when you stare at his hand pointedly. “Let me clean them for you.”

He tries to argue but you won’t have any of it, simply extending your palm out toward him until he reluctantly pulls at the yellow leather tips on his fingers and hands them over.

“You can leave your shirt outside your quarters, too. I don’t want you stinking up the ship with your bloody clothes. Wash up. Get some rest. And be more careful next time,” you say, smiling and walking backward as you talk.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and you swear you hear a ghost of a smile in his voice.

Before you can question him on it, he presses the button to his quarters and slips inside.

—

iii.

Time seems to pass quicker on the Mandalorian’s ship since the Trandoshan incident. And this man of few words quickly becomes a man of… just slightly more than a few words. Nevertheless, as his crewmate, you’ve learned quite a lot more about him.

One, he never stays in one place for long. He’s a bounty hunter, of course, and he takes multiple jobs at once. That means, together, you visit at least four different planets in the span of a few weeks, expertly flying around New Republic and Imperial scanners without a hitch. Two, he likes your cooking, a lot. You can tell because, by the end of the night, after a soft “thank you” buzzed from his helmet, his dish would always be licked clean — two dishes when you’d made his favorite. Sometimes, he’d even surprise you and try to recreate your recipes, generously leaving bowls of delicious food at your door. But he never eats where you can watch, enjoying the meals in secret and quietly washing up for you when you’re on the other side of the ship and can’t argue with him about it. Three, he doesn’t remove his helmet when you’re around, maybe even when he’s alone. “This is the way,” he’d mumble on occasion, a Creed that sounds like a foreign language even falling from his lips. Four, although he says he works alone, you see the way his helmet leans toward you when you speak and notice how his knees point in your direction when you sit side by side in the cockpit, gravitating toward you yet deeply cautious of drawing too close. And five, he’s lonely. You know because you’ve carried the same sadness in your chest almost all your life.

Several months on his ship have opened him up to giving more detailed answers to your numerous questions, and you take each opportunity where you can, desperate to unveil new pieces of his mind.

Tonight, Mando is particularly relaxed after capturing the last of four bounties, coordinates already set to turn them in. An empty bowl of bone broth sits beside his first helping. He leans back comfortably in his pilot seat as the stars shine off his chest plate and you ask about his past adventures.

“Has it always been just you?” Your voice comes out as a whisper, not wanting to disturb this content stillness, but thinking of all the times you’ve found him sitting alone in the cockpit clutching onto a silver ball.

He’s silent for a moment, thinking over his words. He doesn’t turn to face you when he answers, “No. There was... a child. Not long ago.”

You think back to when you had first met him, how he’d said, “I work alone,” how those words had seemed devastatingly true — in the way only a person who’s lost everything could say them so honestly.

“Yours?”

A beat. “Yeah,” he answers, a small crackling sound coming from his helmet. “Yes, a foundling. But he was as my own.”

“What happened?”

The cockpit stays silent save for the dull tones of the control board’s beeps and ticks. Mando reaches for that silver sphere, leans forward in his seat, and he holds it to the crown of his helmet.

“I... had to let him go.”

His voice breaks over the vowels, just slightly but you hear it: the familiar shattered sound of loss. It radiates off of him in waves, penetrating your skin and crawling through your bloodstream until your own heart aches for the ghost this child left behind.

“What was he like?”

He’s quiet again and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line. But suddenly, Mando swivels his chair to face you, the silver ball clutched tight against his chest, and he chuckles. It’s fleeting but it’s a sound you’ve never heard in all your months aboard his ship. A lovely sound you’ll never forget.

“This was his favorite toy,” the Mandalorian says, lifting the ball in the air for you to see. “He was a stubborn kid. Always getting into trouble.”

You smile, begging him to continue.

“He could do things I couldn’t even imagine. He saved me, in more ways than one. We were a clan of two.”

“A family,” you agree.

He stills for a moment, ponders your words, and hangs his head. “Yeah, a family.”

“What’s his name?”

“Grogu.” You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “His name is Grogu.”

“Grogu,” you whisper, testing the name on your tongue. “Can you describe him for me?”

You pull out a small, worn booklet of parchment from your pouch and the short pencil from behind your ear. His helmet tilts toward you curiously and you can almost imagine his eyes squinting behind the visor.

“Remember when I said I was crafty? Not a load of bantha crap,” you chuckle, waving the pencil at him. “I made a trade with some stingy Jawas to get these relics.”

He nods, quietly examining the antiquated drawing pad.

“Tell me,” you plead.

His helmet’s gaze drops back to the silver ball and he sighs a wistful sound.

“Grogu was — is special. A green, wrinkly, big-eared... very special little kid.”

“A green, wrinkly child?” You ask, looking up from the paper.

Mando laughs again and you can’t help but smile too. He describes Grogu like he’s a father mooning over his son’s first steps. You’ve never heard him talk so much, so joyfully yet sorrowfully all at once. There’s a wistfulness in his voice, a rasp that tells you he’s not used to putting it into words, at least not out loud, but he still wants to honor Grogu with every word he has. As he speaks, you can feel — almost see the image of Grogu in your mind. It’s crystal clear like your brain is reaching out and can somehow access every archive in Mando’s memories. It’s like a trance and you have to physically shake your head to release yourself.

“He means a lot to you,” you say, a matter of fact, tearing off the weathered page and giving him your quick sketch, your hand resting on one of his pauldrons. “I’m sure you mean a lot to him.”

Mando silently turns back to the controls, his fingers still clutching the little ball as he grips the page in the other hand.

He’s especially glad to have his helmet at this moment because he feels water pooling behind his eyelids as he stares at the uncanny drawing.

“That’s him,” he whispers, looking upon his boy. It’s almost an exact likeness, although in grayscale (he’ll have to find you other colors somehow). But it means everything to see Grogu again, even on a page, after months of only seeing him in fleeting dreams and distorted nightmares.

“Thank you,” he says, his hand with the drawing joining your hand on his pauldron.

You smile as he neatly, delicately folds the paper and tucks it into the small pouch on his shoulder harness, keeping the drawing close to his heart. You sit together in comfortable silence as the ship drops out of hyperspace.

“I guess you weren’t lying when we met,” he finally says.

“What do you mean?”

“You are… crafty,” he chuckles, his fingers tenderly stroking the leather pouch on his shoulder. “And you’re a good person to talk to.”

—

iv.

The Mandalorian doesn’t ask you to stay on the freighter while he works anymore.

He doesn’t want you with him while he hunts, can’t afford the distraction. But he doesn’t want you to feel trapped either. So, he tells you to explore villages and draw landscapes of forested planets with the set of pigmented chalks he’d sweetly gifted you after finishing a job one day. (“I saw them at some backwater trading post. Thought you might like them,” he’d shrugged.)

He doesn’t say it out loud but you know he trusts you even more now, trusts you won’t get into trouble, trusts you can take care of yourself if it finds you anyway. And he knows you appreciate it after being stranded on Tatooine your entire life. Each time he lands on a new planet, he sees entire galaxies reflected in your awestruck eyes and he gains a new page of artwork to add to his growing collection.

His latest quarry leads the pair of you to Felucia, on the hunt for some scum who — according to the Mandalorian — is probably hoping to harvest the planet’s Nysillin, a valuable healing herb, to trade for hefty credits.

Felucia is a beautiful world you could never have even conjured in your dreams. A dense jungle of flora extends toward the upper atmosphere, kissing the yellow-tinted clouds and glowing orange and teal when night falls. Vibrant purple fungi tower high above the ferns, providing shade that did little to combat the damp heat.

You felt a strange energy running through your veins the moment you stepped off the ship, blaming it on the humidity instantly sticking to your skin like honey, a welcome discomfort compared to the sands of Tatooine.

On Tat, the sand made a habit of blowing and whipping around your ankles, scraping slashes and slivers into your skin. You’d hardly ever felt it, soft skin having evolved into a numb armor over many years on the desolate planet. Even as crystal particles would fly into your eyes, fill your lungs, nestle into your hair — you’d hardly felt it.

Sand is nothing compared to the sinister shudder that would run down your spine as you’d make haste through dark alleyways. The hairs on the back of your neck would rise and stiffen. You’d feel it more than you’d see it: the mass of darkness constantly looming over your shoulder, disfigured shadows merging with yours on the sand. And a voice would ask you each time: are you willing to do what you must to survive?

You almost had that night you met the Mandalorian. You remember your attacker’s voice like you just woke up from a nightmare, coarse and rough, burying itself under your skin like the Tatooine sands. His hands had felt slimy and sticky like the Felucian air as he’d gripped your waist. That same question of will had rung in your ears and your soul had urged you with a whisper: “Survive.” Your hand had quaked as you’d lifted it and focused your thoughts on your attacker’s throat.

Then, before you could save yourself, you’d heard blaster fire and exhaled a staggered breath, gazing upon the Mandalorian as your hand had dropped limp at your side. You never turned back.

Now, you explore more systems than you knew existed, a Mandalorian warrior at your side, filling your weathered drawing pad with sketches of worlds beyond imagination.

Felucia would be a quick job, he’d assured you when he’d left. Easy and clean. Besides, no matter how beautiful the planet seemed — you couldn’t afford to stay longer than one rotation.

The Mandalorian had warned you of carnivorous plants and mysterious beasts. He hadn’t asked you to stay on the ship, but you knew he’d feel better if you kept close by. In the low shrubs and behind sky-scraping stalks, a deep grumble echoed through the jungle — something hungry and menacing. You stayed far from the sounds, choosing to explore the other colorful flowers that lived nearer to the ruddy soil, not straying too far into the mystifying wilds. You scribble away in your booklet, airways filled with a fresh petrichor that reminds you of a watery star system the Mandalorian brought you to a couple of months back. Your chalks fly across the tiny page as you capture this planet’s inimitable beauty as best you can.

Hardly four hours pass before you hear the Mandalorian’s heavy footsteps returning. Behind him trudges a stout man, wrists in binders behind him as he follows the bounty hunter in defeat.

“You’re getting slow, Mando,” you say, grinning when he comes to a stop in front of you, hands on his hips, a slight tilt to his helmet.

“What are you drawing?” He asks, ignoring your previous comment. He kneels beside you, silently studying the chalk-smudged red flower on the page as you stroke the final flourishes of your sketch. You hand him your booklet, noticing how the quarry leans over Mando’s shoulder to sneak a peek as well.

“Beautiful,” Mando says, tone even, as if speaking a fact instead of opinion.

“Well, it’s easy to see beauty when it’s all around,” you answer, cheeks heated as you gesture to the plant life surrounding you.

“It is,” he agrees, tenderness seeping into his modulated voice. When you look up at him, his visor is already trained on your face, unwavering as you crouch eye to eye with each other.

“Hate to break it to ya,” the quarry says, coughing dramatically behind you. “But all this ‘beauty’ wants to eat us alive, so I suggest we get off this hellhole before we all become dinner.”

The Mandalorian sighs, tearing his gaze to probably glare daggers at the quarry.

“Makes you wonder what you were doing on this ‘hellhole’ in the first place,” he says, sarcastic to a fault.

“It wasn’t my choice,” the quarry argues, lifting his hands in defense. “I’m here to do a job, just like y—”

A shrill, deafening screech cuts through the jungle like a blade and the group of you shrink at the violent sound.

“Let’s go,” Mando says immediately, helping you on your feet and pushing the quarry into the freighter.

You watch from the ground behind him as Mando runs in to lock the quarry inside the storage closet, turning only when the screeching sound suddenly stops. Your eyes squint as you try to find a sign of movement in the dense jungle.

“Watch out!”

Before you can register the anxiety in the Mandalorian’s voice, you’re knocked on your back into the red soil by a hulking creature.

It towers over you, casting you completely in its shadow as it slowly stalks forward. Your vision blurs as the horrifying monster draws closer — wrinkled white skin stretching the expanse of its belly and blue spine-covered leather painting its face and shell-armored back.

“I’m guessing this is the rancor you were telling me about?” You grit through your teeth, inching away like a pathetic crab along the shoreline. Drool leaks from the rancor’s jagged teeth in dangling strands as it reaches long, webbed claws toward you.

Before they can reach your body, you see the Mandalorian’s whipcord wrap around its arm. On the other end of the cord, Mando yanks the rancor away from you, rapid blaster fire whizzing through the air, hitting the beast with deadly precision. But the blasts bounce off its thick, impenetrable skin as it continues prowling toward you with renewed anger.

“Good guess,” Mando grunts, flying above the rancor with his jetpack, shooting at it in quick succession.

The rancor turns its attention away from you to the shiny flying pest blasting at its leathery skin. It’s at least six times the Mandalorian’s height but seems worlds larger from your view on the ground.

“Stars, I thought you said these things were peaceful!” You shout.

“The Felucians don’t mind them. You must have scared it with your aggressive craftiness,” he quips, and you imagine what his smirk might look like under his helmet, even as the rancor approaches closer.

Mando launches miniature whistling explosives at the beast, but they do little to deter it. He throws grenades but the rancor swats them away like insects. It stomps toward the Mandalorian, its maw gaping wide as it releases a petrifying roar.

“Mando!” You scream when the rancor’s claws grab him by his jetpack, plowing his body into the ground with brute force.

The Mandalorian groans as he tries to stand back up, falling on his back when his bones prove too weary to support his weight.

“Get to the ship,” he rasps, voice crackling through the helmet with static. He raises his arm, flamethrower igniting at the rancor’s face, making it fumble backward with another roar. Only seconds later, the fire sputters and dies out. “Dank farrik!” He curses, reaching for his hopeless blaster once more before the monster’s claws slap it from his hand. “Get to the ship!” He yells.

Rooted to the ground like the surrounding plants, you’re helpless bantha fodder as you watch the rancor slowly creep forward, stretching to its full height above the Mandalorian. It feels like you’re sinking in quicksand — your feet and your mind hopelessly going under.

Then, you hear a soft voice ask a familiar yet distorted question:

Are you willing to do what you must so he survives?

You don’t hesitate. Anything, your soul resolves.

Steadily braced on two feet, you throw out your hand like a whip, focusing all your energy and emotions toward the blue beast. It sends the rancor flying backward like a ragdoll, wailing as it crashes through the thick jungle, loud cracks echoing from the mist as its body breaks every plant in its path. It lands far away with a heavy thud, but you feel it in your veins when it immediately gets on its feet, vengefully sprinting back toward you.

“Can’t say it isn’t persistent,” you mutter.

“How? You—” Mando grunts, a thousand questions on his tongue that will have to wait.

“I’ll explain later,” you huff, yanking his arm over your shoulder and pulling him to the ship. “We need to get out of here.”

“What’s happening?” The quarry yells from inside the locked compartment when he hears footsteps boarding the ship. You drop the Mandalorian onto the floor of the main hold rather unceremoniously, a metallic clanging sound ringing through the freighter. You punch in his code to retract the ship’s ramp before running to the cockpit. Outside the freighter, the rancor’s screeching grows louder and your fingers flit across the control panel to get the ship in the air. The engines whir to life and you swear it’s the second most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

With one final glance at the glowing jungle outside the viewport, thunderous roars softening into a low rumble, the ship finally launches out of Felucia’s atmosphere. Sinking back in the pilot’s seat, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for what feels like years. A labored dragging sound echoes behind you and you snap your head back, instinctively on defense.

But your shoulders relax when you see the Mandalorian gripping the walls of the ship as he attempts to limp closer. You run to his side, carrying his weight as you lead him to sit in the co-pilot’s chair.

“You need to rest,” you whisper, standing in front of him to quickly scan his body for signs of a major injury. “Looks like you got away with just a few shallow cuts and bruises. Nothing a bit of bacta can’t soothe.”

Your words come out like the rapid firing of his blaster before a gloved hand on your wrist stops you from speeding off.

“What happened back there? How did you...” He asks, his visor lifted at an uncomfortable angle to meet your eyes.

Your lips press into a straight line, brows pinched in worry as you turn away from him to rummage through the medpac.

“I don’t...” you start, letting out a long exhale as you gather your words. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I’ve been able to do things I can’t explain — move things without touching them.”

You turn back to him, bacta in hand as you study expressionless beskar.

“Sometimes, it frightens me. I have no idea where it comes from or why it happens or how to control it. I never do it around other people. I didn’t want them to know,” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his vambrace, wordlessly asking if he still trusts you to remove it. He nods, visor watching you with masked curiosity as you roll back his sleeves and expose bruised, tan skin. “I’m afraid of what could happen if people knew.”

You don’t tell him how you don’t sleep well most nights, your thoughts eating away at your mind as you wonder if your abilities are the reason why you’ve always been alone… if they drove your family away before you could understand and just explain.

It stays silent while you tend to his wounds, applying bacta wherever your hands coax sharp hissing sounds from his helmet. His armor lies on the floor of the cockpit, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and the hem of his shirt lifted just enough to reveal a shallow cut and smattering of bruises on his abdomen. It’s not the worst you’ve seen and the bacta seems to already be easing most of the discomfort, allowing him to sit up straighter.

You leave him for a moment to allow him to tend to the bruises on his legs himself, walking to the supply closet to make sure the quarry is secure in his makeshift prison. When you return, you sit in the pilot’s seat, facing the zooming stars as if they hold the answers to every terrifying question you’ve held inside for so long.

You almost don’t hear the soft way the Mandalorian calls your name. It takes all your strength to pivot your seat in his direction.

“Do you remember when I told you about the mudhorn?” He asks.

You nod. The story of the mudhorn, of course you remember. After he’d first told you about his child, he seemed eager to tell you even more tales of their adventures across the galaxy. The mudhorn felt like their origin story, the birthplace of his connection to Grogu.

“I didn’t tell you the whole story,” he says quietly, piquing your attention. “Grogu saved me. Not the other way around.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “But how? He’s just a baby.”

Mando stands from the co-pilot’s seat, testing his leg’s stability before walking to the control board, leaning back on it, his knees brushing against yours.

“Grogu had powers too. He could heal people. And he could move things without touching them,” he mirrors your words, making your jaw drop as you take them in. “Just like you. I was quested to bring him to others of his kind.”

“You mean?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the flash of hope in your eyes.

“Yes. There are others like him — like you.”

You listen with rapt attention as he unravels the legend of the Jedi — a fierce warrior he’d met named Ahsoka Tano and the hooded figure who had single-handedly defeated a platoon of Dark Troopers and became Grogu’s new mentor. He tells you the few fragments of what he knows about laser swords — lightsabers — the bright colors he’s seen them radiate. But he leaves out the heavy weight of the darksaber locked away in his weapons cabinet. Besides that, he tells you everything he knows, which he regrets isn’t much.

“The Force?” You ask in confusion.

“The Force is what gives you your powers,” he says, reciting the words like folklore passed down through generations. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Ahsoka’s words have been imprinted on his brain since she first spoke them.

“I can take you to a place where you can communicate with them,” he whispers. Truly, he doesn’t want to do as he says, doesn’t want to repeat the heartache he’s still not fully recovered from. He wishes he could snatch the righteous words out of the air before you hear them. But he knows what it would mean to you to find others, a family when you’ve had none your whole life. “The… Jedi, I mean. On a planet called Tython. If you want to be trained.”

He imagines a familiar hooded figure leading you by your hand, leaving him behind.

“I… I’d like to hear what they have to say. Get some answers,” you say. “If you’ll take me.”

“Of course.”

You stand up, allowing him to take his place in the pilot’s chair.

“After we drop off the quarry, I’ll bring you to Tython.”

His breath stops when he sees your hand reach out to cradle the side of his helmet. His eyes screw shut, imagining the plush warmth of your palm caressing the skin on his cheek instead.

“Thank you, Mando,” you say, a gentle smile on your lips.

“Din,” he offers, grinning beneath his helmet when your chin tilts in silent questioning. “My name is Din Djarin,” he clarifies. “But you can still call me Mando if you want.”

You smile, so wide and so bright it could blind him.

“Thank you, Din,” you say, unexplored galaxies sparkling in your irises. For the first time, he lets himself daydream what it’d be like to discover each one of them with you, for as many years as you’ll give him. Even as he fears his time with you is ending. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

As you walk to your sleeping quarters, the soft sound of controls beeping and ticking in the ship, you don’t hear when he whispers:

“Anything.” [READ PART II HERE]

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #taole #mine*

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autumnslance · 3 years

Photo

“Who are you to judge me, Gaius!? Do you remember the names of the tens of thousands of men, women, and children killed for the sake of your conquests?”

“I do not deny the blood spilled at my behest. Nor will I run from my past. That is why I fight. To prevent the wrongs I committed from being repeated.”

OK, so I actually DO like this climactic scene at the end of Diamond Weapon. More on this and my own take on Gaius below the cut.

The horrific truth of Diamond Weapon, the Overmind, and just how Allie survived is revealed--what’s become of Alfonse is horrifying but honestly not too surprising, given the prototypes Estinien found in the palace labs in the 5.1 flashback duty, nor the previous experiments into Oversoul itself. This also explains the voice we hear through the fight and the things he says, which since I was able to pay more attention on later attempts, seems very obvious.

Gaius says what he’s always said here, since the beginning of the chain: he’s realized he made a lot of mistakes in fighting for the Empire, and now that he knows what a sham it all was, he seeks to clean up the messes he made to prevent more damage. He doesn’t expect forgiveness; he’s simply doing what ought to be done, and it’s in character for a man with his convictions (which were what made him an interesting and popular antagonist in 1.0 and ARR).

No one’s told Valens he should look up the boss strats before pulling; even Mizzteq can’t help you then, buddy, and the edits I’ve seen for that section are glorious. Sure Valens knows all Gaius’ combat data as a Legatus--but Gaius has been the Shadowhunter for the last *cough* years, and has learned a few new tricks, and the body language as he empties his clip, loads his new ammo, and sets off his newest attack in Valens’ face was fantastic.

And that’s the main thing about Werlyt I do give it credit for; the expressions and movements of the characters to convey their thoughts and feelings, new rigging and animations used, blocking of scenes, lighting, camera angles, music--it’s all been really great. In some cases too good, like the ends of Sapphire and Emerald and those terribly uncomfortable scenes. Here, it even induces a “yeah finally!” response as Valens gets what he deserves, from the characters he’s set up to be the foil for and antagonistic with (unlike certain Trolley Duties in MSQ).

Diamond’s awakening is again very mech anime; since the Ruby fight there’s been a very Neon Genesis Evangelion feel to the series, and this continues it, as Alfonse’s mind controls the machine he’s been made part of and takes his revenge on Valens, alongside the memories of all the other victims of the Legatus’ ambition. The sound of a popping balloon is genuinely hilarious and yet fitting.

I really have little else to say about Valens. He exists solely as an over the top prop, trying to make Gaius look better by Valens being so awful. He has no personality or goals beyond that. I don’t care my characters never had to sully their hands with him, Alfonse deserved that kill. Good riddance.

The rain falling as father and son say goodbye is again very tropey but works for the scene, so again I don’t mind. It’s evocative and suits the mood as Gaius puts Alfonse out of his torment and removes the memory core to return to Allie.

I just wish we’d had more focus and time to be made to care about Alfonse and his siblings as more than indoctrinated sacrifices for Gaius’ pain and to shoehorn in a traditional redemption for a man who is otherwise taking responsibility for his past errors by cleaning up his messes and aiding the people of Werlyt until he’s needed for 6.0 MSQ. I still fully expect Gaius to be one of the folks who has a hand in rebuilding Garlemald, perhaps returning it to a Republic as imperialism was a Bad Idea. I don’t think this story was necessary to get him there, but luckily it’s optional content.

This story overall isn’t the best redemption arc; not enough time and focus, and it felt like they had the resolution determined but not the means to get there. Also it bears pointing out that aside from Allie, no one, not even the Werlyt Resistance, has necessarily forgiven Gaius for his past actions--nor do they have to, in order for him to change himself and work toward fixing his errors. There’s a lot of folks hung up on that (honestly very Western Christian idea with its tendency to permeate everything about our culture) notion of forgiveness being necessary in a redemption arc, and it’s Not, as was already stated in 4.1 with the Ala Mhigans and Fordola.

I actually think Gaius would agree with most of the criticisms about him. He’s aware of what he’s done--moreso maybe than the writers of this particular storyarc--and that not everyone will accept him, even if his skills in fixing his mistakes are useful. And he’s fine with that, as others’ acceptance and forgiveness isn’t necessary for him to keep working on cleaning up his messes.

So I can buy Gaius’ reactions and motivations, and his anger at Valens--there are aspects of it that are about patriotism, as Gaius hasn’t entirely shaken off his homeland and the indoctrination and what he feels was “right” about it--and am glad the writers/execs did let him have the kill here, and that the climax scene was the genre homage it was meant to be and worked from that angle. It’s just about the only part of this story that did for me.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Shadowbringers #patch 5.5 #Death Unto Dawn #Sorrow of Werlyt #Gaius Baelsar #Valens van Varro #Diamond Weapon

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jay-and-dean · 3 years

Text

Worse

Dean x reader

Summary : Is it possible to love someone so much, you just wish you’re lucky enough to die first ?

Warnings : This is ANGST. I’m not kidding, this is panic attack, suicidal thoughts, grieving, light thought of murder, borderline domestic violence angst. This is kinda Dark and be careful that it’s not too triggering for you, please.

Wordcount : 1.8 k

Note : This is my fic for @negans-lucille-tblr‘s 6k “roll the dice” writing challenge. My genre prompt was Angst (I think you got it by now) and my prompt was “I’ve been pulling you close but pushing me further”, it’s blod in the fic.

December is a harsh month for me, so here is a harsh fic.

Jay’s Masterlist

_____________________

Dean did it again.

He swore on his life he wouldn't, you should have known that it meant nothing.

How fucking ironic it is ? Dean Winchester swearing on his own life that he will try to protect it, that he won't shield every person on Earth with his soul and body.

You're holding your painful chest, sitting on that stupid bed in this stupid motel room where nothing makes any sense anymore because your world is crumbling again. And your mind is going all the way down its own spiral of pain, the worst there is.

Your breath is short and your thoughts go so fast, a super computer giving you all the details of the movie that will be your life once Dean is gone.

The silence.

The implacable silence in the bunker, the void left by the end of his voice, the kind of silence that hurts so much it could kill you, harassing cruelly, again and again, with no break at all until you're ready to open your skull on a wall to make it stop.

That kind of silence.

The empty bed back home, the empty room. Your mind makes emptiness rain on you : Empty kitchen and no bacon, no joy ever, no sex, no one holding you and telling it's going to be okay. No one really understanding you and no hero on Earth, no butterflies ever again. No reason to live. Empty heart. Empty life.

Empty fucking world.

In the middle of this chaotic din, you think of his toothbrush, of throwing it in the trash because he won't need to clean his cute, going slightly inward, teeth ever again. Of his clothes waiting on the closet forever, and how fast the smell on it will fade.

You think of the nights spending screaming for him to come back because nothing is bearable without him, nothing... Screaming until you can't, strangling yourself with sobs, knowing it won't help because begging, threatening and bargaining won't change a thing.

And the days being even worse.

You think of the moment you will manage to forget the loss just enough to breathe, for a second, sitting on your bed, imagining he is just gone to the bathroom and that he will show up, pass this door again... Then remember he will never look back in your eyes again, fall even harder... And now you want to die.

Right now.

Even if all this is not real yet, even if Dean is still alive, you just want to die. You need to stop feeling anything forever now, just not exist because you don't want to be here when all of this happens.

And it will happen.

He just proved it. Your love for him doomed you and you're done praying that anyone listening would let you take his burdens...

Your thoughts shatter when he opens the door of the motel room and walks in with his heart beating and his chest breathing, blood running through his veins... But seeing him is not a relief this time, not anymore, and the deafening fear is still compressing your ribs with its vise talons.

"Baby" he sighs and you whimper at the pain of thinking one day you won't hear it anymore.

Everything hurts.

Until now, you always managed to calm after Dean almost died. It always took a few days being extremely anxious, living in the shadow of fear, feeling like nothing had any meaning anymore, but he always managed to make you whole again. With empty promises that he won't leave you, that he will always be by your side...

Bullshit.

Last time, the unbearable despair of knowing he will go before you didn't leave you completely, and you still suffer this horrible void caused by the idea that nothing worth living, if it is not forever.

This time, you know it, that horrible sorrow won't leave you. Not ever.

"Dean, it's over."

His big green eyes widen and his large body comes in front of you. His beloved body that you will have to burn one day, watching it as flames eat his freckled skin and flesh, as they turn to nothingness the man you love.

"Don't say that" he groans. "Baby, look at me. I didn't know for the metal thing."

You close your eyes, seeing the vampire impale him on this stupid bar again and again and it's like the spikes goes through you too.

"You know this one is not on me" he sighs. "It's not like I did it on purpose !"

"This one" you mutter his words in echo. "Maybe if you hadn't worn my heart out with all the times it was actually 'on purpose' like you say..."

He squats in front of you but you can't look at him. He was ready to say goodbye... Again. He was ready for you to lose him, who cares if you are ready or not.

"Don't say that..." he tries to touch your cheek with his fingers, the ones you held while performing that horrible spell to save him at Death's door.

To save him against his will.

But you flinch away and repeat.

"It's over. I won't watch you die."

"I won't, Baby" he tries again but those lies are hollow and your soul burned out.

You get up and pace the ugly room, unable to bear his face so close after seeing it turn dead pale once more.

"You know how lucky you are ?" you say in a broken voice, way too sad to cry. "You're obviously ready to die, to leave me. You will be the one leaving first and th-that is the luckiest place..." he looks down and takes a loud inhale. "You're so fucking ready to quit."

"I'm not" he states but you ignore his words, they are just wind now.

"But I'm not" you continue, seeing tears fill his perfect eyes. "I can't... O-one day I will have to burn your body, Dean... How selfish is it ? Have you ever thought of what happens after your stupid blaze of glory ?" he keeps his eyes down without saying a word and you could hit him, you want to but instead you let out a desperate strangled scream of pain. "HOW FUCKING SELFISH ARE YOU ! YOU'RE WILLING TO SAVE EVERYBODY BUT ME !"

The burning rage rises in your soul, in your body, and it's like flames were consuming you too, like you were on a stake. Your skin is burning, blood boiling and your heart feels like ember.

"Y/n" he tries, paralyzed by his inability to face this paradox :

If he keeps trying to save you and everybody else with his life, it will kill you ; but if you die, he still burns.

Is it possible to love someone too much ? Is it possible to actually die of love ? Is it possible that it is too late, that you're already dead...

"I CAN'T SLEEP BECAUSE YOU" you scream and a costumer of the motel yells for you to shut up behind the wall, you couldn't care less. "FUCK YOU DEAN WINCHESTER !"

He walks to you but the blazing pain is killing you, and you push him violently, making him step back in a huff.

"It's the job, Baby, you know that" he tries but it feels like gasoline on the pyre of your heart.

"Those suicidal shits to talk to Death ! Fucking OD on meds !" you feel tears roll on your face, down your chin and chest, but you don't think you're crying, or maybe you have been all this time... "Michael ! HELL ! THE MA'LAK BOX ! I NEVER FORGAVE YOU FOR THAT !"

"Y/n... I'm trying..."

"You should have tried harder ! I have been there, following you everywhere, accepting your stubbornness. I've been pulling you close but pushing me further. I'm dying of loving you Dean... I have to go."

You turn to put your clothes in your bag.

"You can't leave" he states, coming closer.

"WATCH ME !"

With hunter speed, he wraps his arms around you, hard and fast, with all his strength, preventing your every moves. All you can do is scream, and hit his arms to get free like they were enemies.

"You... You're not leaving me Y/n" he states through tears while you're fighting like you can. "You can't leave me... You're the meaning of my life... I love you more than anything in the world."

"LIAR !" you sob, hitting him with all you have, hitting him with your pain and your panic, with the despair that is consuming you.

You're fighting in a desperate last attempt to survive, like it was your last breath but when he squeezes your weak body harder, you hit and scratch every parts of him you can reach even more.

"I could die for you" he sobs.

"DON'T SAY THAT ! LET ME GO" you scream again, your voice hoarse and throat sore.

The neighbor knocks on the wall... And your eyes catch a glance at your gun at reach.

You grab it with the speed of rage and point it to Dean's temple. Nothing matters anymore, and maybe if you both died in that dirty room, you would end up together in Hell...

He doesn't move. You look at his tears soaked face, this face you love more than it is healthy to, to his tired wrinkled eyes, so red that the green seems greener... You cry at how beautiful he is, and press the barrel harder on his temple.

"I could kill you..." you mutter with clench teeth through your blurred mind.

"Do it" he orders. "DO IT !"

His shouting makes you flinch when his nose grazes yours at how close he is.

"WHY IN HELL WOULD YOU SAVE MY LIFE TO LEAVE ME AFTER ! I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOU !" he screams and presses his head harder on the gun. "LEAVING OR PUTTING A BULLET IN ME ARE JUST THE SAME ! SO GO ON ! DO IT !"

You fall.

His arms catch you and keep you up, but every crumb of your will just fell. The gun slips from your hand...

A few years ago, you swore to love Dean forever, even if it meant death or Hell or even worse... So you will stay here, just here in his trembling arms until you have to burn him, for you neither can face that cruel paradox.

You know you will walk on that pyre, that day, and hold him until the end. You will burn, but you will stay...

Because this is it.

This is worse.

_________________________

FEEDBACK IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32-deactivated @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted @hobby27 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @thoughts-and-funnies @suramyaa @yasreadsfics @brilovesdeanwinchester

#bees6krollthedicechallenge #supernatural #Supernatural Dean Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #SPN #SPNFamily #dean winchester #spn dean x reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n #angst #violence #panic #death talk #established relationship #jay and dean

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ilikefandom · 3 years

Text

“Not” Guilty

Request: Can I request a fanfic where fem reader and Severus are really good friends and like Sev is messed up because he was left rotting in Azkaban for a few years? Also he still feels guilty for everything and GIMME THAT ANGST

Requested by: Anon

Genre: Angst: No happy endings here

Synopsis: Severus recieves judgement, and, in turn judges (Y/n)

Pairing(s): Severus Snape x Fem reader, slight Lily x James

Warnings: Angst!!! Prision. Guilt manifested as anger

Innocent, what a beautiful word. Well, the actual term was ‘Not Guilty’, but that didn’t matter to (Y/n) as she watched the release of her best friend of over twenty years, and her crush for ten of them.

Three years ago he had survived a brutal attack from Nagini and an entire war, only to be blamed for the torture and murder of several students. Severus Snape was by no means a rich man, however the prosecution's lack of evidence was astounding and Severus was allowed to leave from court.

Stepping outside of the courtroom, nodding at old colleagues and breathing fresh air, (Y/n) waited outside of the door for fifteen to twenty minutes before moving towards the elevator amongst the wizengamot members. Her anger and relief filled her lungs as the lift raised itself to the highest level.

A hand tapped her shoulder and she turned to see Arthur Weasly give her a smile. The patriarch of the Weasly family was a comfort to her at this time, and she smiled back. He fell into stride beside her as they made their way to the exit of the ministry.

“They made the right decision.” Arthur stated.

(Y/n) turned to him with surprise in her features. Arthur had never liked Severus and neither had Molly, but he had seemed confident in his choice of words.

“I agree. He witnessed it.” She commented as she quickened her pace as if she wanted to escape from the building itself. Which she did. Her long robes swept the floor as she stepped near a fireplace at the side of the room.

“Molly’s making cottage pie tonight, if you want to attend.” Arthur passed her and stepped into the exit. (Y/n) nodded and followed him through the doorway.

Stepping out of the toilet on the other end, (Y/N) left the ministry of magic, disappearing as soon as she could.

Reappearing at the entrance to Spinner’s end (Y/n) strode down the line as she hid her wand in the folds of her dress. She made her way to the squat house that radiated magic and knocked twice. Severus answered the door maybe ten minutes later. His face was cleanly shaved and he was wearing a set of black robes without the outer coat. His coal black eyes bore into the young woman who stood before him.

“Hello Severus, it’s so good to see you.” (Y/n) repressed the urge to smile at her closest friend. “Might I come in?”

Severus grunted, his face lightening in the slightest way as he stepped aside to let her into his residence. The inside of the house was slightly messy, as one would expect for a man that lived alone, however, it was cleaner than the last time she had been in his house.

Snape closed the door and shifted his way to the armchair he usually occupied. The large scar on his neck prominent and stark against his yellowish skin. Sinking into his seat he looked at (Y/n) for the first time in just over four years.

She was beautiful, as always, and had done her hair in a very nice fashion. She looked right back at him and her eyes widened. “Severus,”

He sneered at her then looked at his lap. Surprised (Y/n) fell into silence. She took a deep breath and tried again. “Severus, you know that I support you.”

“But what?” He hissed looking at the woman with malice in his eyes.

Taken aback, (Y/n) looked back. “There is no but Severus. That was an opening for you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

“And what if I don’t want to,” he spat glancing at the ground at his feet, “talk with you about it.”

“I can wait. Severus.” (Y/n) shifted in the chair, uncomfortable, but wanting to support her dearest friend.

The silence was heavy and deafening as they sat, apart yet together.

“It was the worst experience of my life.” He said eventually, staring intently at his hands. “It was horrifying and it ripped every feeling from my soul to sit in that dump and be around those disgusting creatures.”

“It’s going to be alright Severus.” (Y/n) spoke up, catching his attention and reaching out to touch his hands.

Snape pulled away. “Every child was under my care at Hogwarts, every child. And now there are parents that will never see their children again and it is entirely my fault. I should be rotting in prison right now, not having chats with you of all people!”

“It wasn’t your fault that they died Severus.” (Y/n) tried to say before the wizard stood up and began to pace up and down his own house.

“It was, (Y/n).” He whispered, “I stood idly by and watched death eaters torture and kill my children. I may not have cast the curses that ended their lives, but I am the reason that they are dead and I should have done something, but I didn’t and should be paying the price.”

“You couldn’t have done anything!” (Y/n) stood as well. She reached out to him once again and he pushed her back once again.

“I could have given my life for them, like Potter tried to do! Like Lupin did! Why am I always finding myself in second compared to them!” Severus tore past (Y/n) and grabbed handfuls of his own hair.

“You never were second.” (Y/n) spoke in a quiet tone as she made her way back to her chair. “You never were compared to them!”

“Was I!” Snape shouted. Scaring his best friend. “Was I not?”

“No. Never!”

“Really? Because as I recall, Lily abandoned me for Potter and his friends!”

“Severus,” (Y/n) touched his arm as he passed, “You may not have saved those students, but the grief you feel now is consequence enough.”

“Don’t even try (Y/n)!” Severus growled, turning to face her anger apparent on his features.

The din fell once again into silence and (Y/n) sighed. “Severus. We can’t keep doing this. You can’t do this to yourself.”

“We. We! (Y/n) this is my issue not ours!”

“You’re my best friend Severus! That makes it my issue!”

“Maybe if you minded your own business, you wouldn’t have an issue.”

Y/n’s mouth fell open, then closed. She swallowed and got out of her seat. “Maybe if you let me in you wouldn’t have as many problems.”

“How about I show you out instead!” Severus screamed in her direction.

(Y/n)’s heart shattered into a mess of broken bits as she looked at Severus. “You don’t mean that!”

“I do. I want you out. I want you gone. Why I ever thought I could love you is beyond me.”

(Y/n)’s eyes filled with salt water as Severus strode over to the heavy door and shoved it open. “Out. Goodbye (Y/l/n).”

“Severus. Please. I love you.”

“OUT!”

(Y/n) nodded solemnly and sniffed her tears back. “I’m sorry have a good night Severus.” She departed, looking back every few paces to see if he would follow her into the darkness. Instead, she heard the door slam shut.

In the days, weeks and even months that passed, (Y/n) went to Severus’ house. He would never answer the door, and she would sit on his stoop for half an hour waiting to see f things would change. Nothing did.

Sometimes, both halves of a whole that could never be would lie in bed at night. Dreaming about how wonderful it would be if they could have made things work that night. But, the more they pondered, and the more they thought about the other, the more grief filled their beings.

Photographs were shoved into the back of (Y/n)’s closet, gifts Severus had given her, and all artifacts of her life with him had been pushed into a dark corner where they would never be found.

Severus held the small box in his hands running his fingers over the lid, before he promptly returned the small band inside of it, heart heavy with sorrow and his savings account heavy, again, with gold.

Maybe innocent was the right word after all. As both parties settled into a new routine of avoiding each other. For how could either of them ever be not guilty.

Author’s note: I do not own Harry Potter! Please request and comment. I love all of my readers big and small!

#Angst #severus snape x reader #severus snape #severus snape x you #harry potter x reader #Harry Potter #fem reader #Reader is female #sad #so angsty

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lanland04moure · 3 years

Text

미안해 •| ᶜʰᵒᶤ ʸᵉᵒⁿʲᵘⁿ |• [ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ¹ ]

It's been hours since you left home. It's been hours since that stupid argument. But not being here is part of your job, I know.

You were right, it's your room and only you know how you keep it tidy. Even though I was right too, it's a mess. You should take the time to tidy up a little better.

It's been a while since I last called you. I asked you to have dinner together, a truce to fix this stupid situation. You refused my request.

You're still upset, I could feel it in your voice.

The door to the apartment burst open, giving way to the thunderous voices of the boys coming in, playing and shouting. But you weren't there.

Why did you have to, why if everyone else was leaving did you have to stay? Why did you?

Heuning and Beomgyu went straight into the kitchen, looking for something to eat while it was time for dinner. Soobin took a seat next to me on the spacious sofa. Taehyun walked slowly in our direction after locking the door informing me that Soobin and Heuning had planned to go to the movies before dinner, mentioning that they had only stopped by the apartment to change. But he didn't mention you.

I struck up a conversation with the guys, trying to forget the fact that I felt rejected by you.

Beomgyu zapped at the TV, while Taehyun fought with him for not allowing him to see what was on some channel. Soobin and Heuning had long since left, excited because the movie they would be attending looked very promising.

The next moment Beomgyu and Taehyun's voices stopped as did the constant switching on the TV. They had finally left a channel. But it felt strange the abrupt change of mood.

I turned in their direction and they looked like they had seen a ghost, frozen with their eyes glued to the TV. As I prepared to take a look at what had caused their reaction, Taehyun obstructed my point of view and started talking very fast while trying to pull me along with him.

What was wrong with him? I was about to protest when the words of the person behind the TV set froze me in my tracks.

"A second explosion is reported at HYBE entertainment agency. The trapped people could not be rescued yet. Rescue bodies report that they expect 3 to 6 more explosions to happen due to the rupture of several gas lines. So far at least 10 people are reported trapped."

The three of us kept silent.

Beomgyu changed the channel again, his hands were shaking, we all knew you were there.

"It is reported that 2 or 4 people could be found lifeless. This is due to the difficult situation and that the location does not lend itself to a safe rescue. Viewers are asked not to be present at the site, as this could cause even more chaos than what is already there. This is primarily directed at all the young women who are crowding around the company in search of information about members of various groups in the company."

Why if I asked you to have dinner together did you have to turn me down? Why do you have to allow your pride to go so far?

One more change.

"The area affected by the explosions is reported to be on the central floors of the building, the area where the agency's practice rooms and locker rooms are stipulated to be located. So far, no injuries or people trapped in the few debris generated on the lower floors have been reported. It is reported that at least 7 people were on that floor at the time of the incident. All the victims have been identified, 4 or more of them could be company personnel and we have the report that 2 of them could be idols. We are not allowed to inform who they are or what group they belong to, to avoid increasing hysteria among fans."

I know it's you, I know because you haven't called yet. If we hadn't argued you'd be with me now. But you're not.

Another change.

"A successful rescue of 3 people has just been carried out, they were found trapped inside one of the elevators of the place, none of them has any serious injuries or damage."

The transmission was cut for several seconds after a loud noise was recorded by the microphones that were in place. When the signal came back on, the reporter was a little further away from the scene and had a frightened look on his face.

"We have just witnessed a new explosion, the rescue corps reports that this explosion can generate a collapse in the construction. Because of the previous explosions the foundations of the site were damaged. So far a large amount of debris has fallen, which will further delay the rescue of the victims of this disastrous accident."

Another one.

Everyone's nerves are on edge, Taehyun still hasn't let go of me, and I really appreciate it because his touch is the only thing that keeps me still standing and not on the verge of collapse.

The door to the apartment opens again, our eyes traveled to that point and for a moment no one came in and it kindles in me the hope that it is you, that you had reached to leave the Company before all this happened. Then Heuning enters, letting out little sighs, a sign that he was crying, followed by Soobin. Again, not you.

—Take your things, we'll go to the company.—

Soobin's request was in a calm voice, but no one moved, we just exchanged glances.

—¡MOVE!—

Beomgyu's shout brought us out of our state. Tae let go of me, from then on it was all a race, the boys looking to change clothes and everyone fighting for the toilet.

I went to your room, I felt calm, I wasn't scared, I wasn't afraid, and the thought of panicking had left me.

I guess I hadn't quite assimilated the fact that you are trapped in a building at risk of collapse. Because there can be no other explanation for the fact that I was so calm.

I went to the closet and grabbed two sweatshirts. One was obviously for me, it was cool at this time of night. The other is for you, because when you left the house this morning you didn't have one with you and you're probably a little chilly.

When I returned to the living room, the TV was already off and the boys were standing near the door.

They were waiting for me.

•

On the walk to the company many doubts assaulted me. Will you be okay? Did you suffer any damage? Did something even worse happen in there? Will you still be alive?

With all these thoughts in mind, I began to experience a strong pressure in my chest, everything around me spun and the boys' conversation began to be heard in the distance. I had to call you, I had to know you were okay.

You couldn't leave me now, you couldn't go away upset because of that stupid argument, I started a desperate search for my cell phone, but that was the moment when I started to feel short of breath.

Was this a panic attack?

I could see the worried faces of the guys who were almost on top of me. They all spoke at once and it was impossible for me to understand what they were trying to say.

Taehyun pushed them all away and helped me into a better position so that it was possible for me to breathe.

—You need to calm down, breathe...—

There were no words of encouragement, it wasn't an "Everything will be okay" and it certainly wasn't a "He's safe". Why we didn't know, we didn't know how you were doing and we had no idea what we would find when we got there.

When we finally arrived the boys came down immediately, but I didn't know what to do, would I be able to keep calm now that I had the real version of the event in front of my eyes?

I need you by my side, now I realize how much I really love you.

This morning that you left we didn't say goodbye... we didn't say goodbye, we didn't give each other a kiss. We didn't say "I love you".

While I was in that internal debate of how to take the situation a loud noise like a big thunder flooded the atmosphere. The hustle and bustle of the moment stopped, everyone was looking at that big damaged structure. And without being able to avoid it, I turned my gaze behind the glass to the same place.

A large part of the building had collapsed. The area around the site had been reduced to rubble.

Not far from us stood one of the reporters we had seen on television. He immediately settled down in front of the frame to report on the latest development.

A little further back was a group of firemen, one of whom was carrying a megaphone through which he began to instruct people to move away from the structure for safety.

I turned my attention to the reporter to hear his last words.

"After minutes of waiting, the collapse the authorities were talking about has happened. The rescue forces communicate that they expect to find the 7 people who were trapped lifeless. The weight of the debris is too much for anyone to have survived."

The Lieutenant in charge took the megaphone and made the announcement that woke me up from my state of shock.

—The explosions were on the central floors of the building, the columns of the site are already too badly damaged and the upper floors are beginning to collapse. There is no hope for a successful rescue.—

I immediately got out of the car, it couldn't be true, what we had just witnessed had to have been an illusion, this couldn't end like this.

I need to see you, I need to hold you. I need to tell you how much I love you, one more time.

I ran towards the building dodging all the agents that tried to stop me, if they didn't come in to get you I would, because I need to have you by my side.

Strong arms wrapped around me preventing me from continuing to run into the building. They held me close to his chest, which was rising and falling in agitation, he had run after me. And there, in the warmth of that embrace a new hope grew within me. But I didn't want to turn around and find out again that it wasn't you.

— You need to stop, you can't do something like this, what do you think you can do for him once you're in there? You couldn't do anything.—

Soobin's voice came directly from the one who was holding me, so.... Again it wasn't you.

I felt my heart sink in a sea of anguish. Why aren't you here with me yet? What are you waiting for? Come on, get out of there.

•

"All night has passed and rescue teams have still not found any people trapped under the wreckage."

"After what seems to be 12 hours of the tragedy, the rescue teams have managed to stop the explosions and have also controlled the fires caused by these."

•

It's been more than 24 hours since I last saw you.

The guys dragged me back home, that I needed to sleep was their argument. But still, in the silence of the night, without you by my side, it was impossible for me to fall asleep.

I miss you.

Look at your room again. It is still the same as you left it yesterday morning. Your desk is full of notebooks and notes. On a chair and isolated in a corner is a pile of clothes, clean or dirty, I'm sure you don't even know. Sweatshirts and pants everywhere. And even as I'm admiring this mess again I think; are we really fighting over something so futile?

I need to hear from you.

I stood up slowly, I had to go there again. I needed news, and I didn't want to watch it through the TV, I had to be present on the spot.

I left your room ready to go back to the company. I left without making any noise, but when I got to the living room my plan went down the drain. Everyone was there, and judging by their expressions there was still no good news. I turned around and resignedly went back to the room.

I threw myself on your bed and without being able to help it I burst into tears. Why did this have to happen to us?

The sound of the door was like a whisper next to my uncontrollable sobs, this time that illusion that it was you didn't appear. I knew who it was.

Feeling the warmth of his embrace only made my crying increase. He didn't try to make me stop, he didn't comfort me, he didn't do anything like that. He did nothing but join me in my crying.

I knew that for the boys this was also a difficult situation. But of all of them, he was surely the one who was coping the worst, he also needed a support, but at this moment I couldn't be one, we were both equally broken.

I'm sorry Soobin, I'm sorry for not being able to comfort you.

part 2. part 3

#txt #txt taehyun #txt beomgyu #txt hyuka #txt huening kai #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #tomorrowxtogether #txt choi yeonjun #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #txt oneshots #tomorrow x together #txt drabbles #txt imagines #txt the chaos chapter: freeze #txt chaos chapter #yeonjun oneshot

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