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kuroopaisen · 4 years

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fireflies. (kuroo tetsurou)

➵ there are people who fall between the cracks, finding themselves stuck in a world halfway between this one and beyond. kuroo doesn’t want you to face it alone.

wc: 4.7k

warnings: gn!reader, yokai!au, soft angst?

a/n: somewhat inspired by neverwhere by neil gaiman, and after dark by haruki murukami. somewhat. also, big thank you to ren once again for her support and her beta’ing. and moo, i can’t write a kuroo fic for a celebration week without dedicating it to you :’) thank you for your constant and motivating support!

The city is ageless. It’s a visual cacophony of neon and ramshackle, a collection of buildings tightly packed along skinny alleyways. A wide asphalt road runs through it all like a great river, often glittering under streetlights on rainy evenings. Human beings don’t walk this in-between world that exists between the cracks. But the otherworldly do.

Kuroo used to be afraid of the dark. These days, the night brings him comfort. The night means he gets to exist, slipping through alleyways and hopping across rooftops. The moonlight touches his skin in a way the sun no longer can, whispering him into life on the asphalt.

It’s not the life he wants, but he makes do. He’s not sure how long he’s been here. He knows next to nothing of his life before this endless night. Just whispers.

But he’s certain he couldn’t produce these little fires back then. They gather around him like the loose clouds that blot out the stars.

He enjoys his little cloud, specks of light so small and inconsistent they look like fireflies, hovering around him like he’s the centre of their world.

These little fireflies dance around him as he watches you across the street.

It’s not the first time Kuroo sees you. He has no grasp on time — not truly — but he remembers your face. He remembers how sad you looked, pacing around the street of an evening, hood pulled over your head. He remembers the apathy hiding underneath.

It’s an apathy onset by exhaustion, more than anything else. An apathy that’s the result of caring too much for too long, from losing yourself to the dread.

It is only his second time seeing you, but your expression struck him so deeply that he couldn’t help but remember your face. It has been a long time since he’s seen such raw, human emotion. A long time since he’s seen anything sincere. That evident misery of yours carries more significance than you could possibly know.

Kuroo sees himself in you. The numbness lying beneath your melancholy is as familiar to him as the streets and alleys of this city. What is the purpose of being so numb? He wonders that often. The answer is always something about survival; to be numb is the only way you can live with yourself in the face of unending insignificance. If this truly is purgatory, then it would be wise not to feel anything at all.

Maybe you’re like him. Or, maybe you’re more human.

Perhaps he’s reading too much into it. It could be the boredom getting to him. There’s not much to entertain himself with out here, as much as he makes his own fun. Maybe it’s best to leave you alone.

But ah, the curiosity is too much.

He waves a hand through his cloud, catching some fireflies in his palm. He blows them your way as a little greeting. Only a handful, a little embassy of light reflecting on the barren asphalt. He can’t control them very well — they always seem to go the opposite direction of where he wants them to go, always sink a little too close to the ground — but with the sheer force of his will they float towards your chest.

It’s hard to see from the other side of the street, but he swears your eyes follow them.

But he wonders. He hopes. He follows.

Not too obviously; he knows he’s a tall guy, and that makes him scarier than most. And truth be told, he’s not sure how human he looks these days. There were no mirrors in the city; only reflections found in windows, half-whispers of the truth.

“Stop following me.” Your voice is low, as if you’re not sure your words would reach him.

Kuroo raises his eyebrows, perfect, delighted surprise on his face.

You can see him.

“Are you okay?”

“Go away,” you say, your voice slightly louder this time.

You can hear him.

“Please,” he murmurs, reaching a hand for your shoulder. “Tell me—”

You turn, slapping his hand away. The feeling echoes through his arm.

You can touch him.

“I said, go away.”

Kuroo stares at you for a moment, trying to take in as much of you as he could. You look young. Maybe just younger than he had once been. Your skin is dull, your eyes distant, your hair lifeless. You look like someone who hasn’t slept in a very long time. You’re clad in a hoodie about three times your size, paired with jeans and ragged trainers. You look like the sort of person one would expect to find wandering the city at night, inoffensive to the point of being forgettable. Kuroo almost believes he’s made a mistake and that you’re not like him at all.

It’s your scent that gives you away. You smell like burnt toast. It’s not the most pleasant smell, but he won’t knock you for it. He smells much the same, after all.

“When was the last time you went home?” He asks, looking you straight in the eye. It’s not the best conversation starter, but he hopes it’ll strike some chord.

You frown. “Fuck off.” You turn around and begin to skulk off.

“Please,” he swallows, catching up to you with a few long strides, “it’s important.”

Scowling, you pull your hood over your eyes, hands digging into your pockets as you pick up your pace.

Kuroo curses, speeding up as well. “I can help you.”

Your step falters.

He gulps, slowing to a stop. “I know that you can’t find your way home.”

You take another step down the street.

He doesn’t know what to say. But he wants to get through to you. To offer a hand.

“You’re probably scared, and, and… overwhelmed, and…”

A deep breath. And then, words he wishes someone had said to him.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“I can’t sleep at night,” you say softly, “but as soon as the sun rises, it’s like I fall into some sort of coma.” You shiver as you speak, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Nothing can wake me up.”

Kuroo resists the urge to put an arm around you.

“That happened to me, too,” he nods, biting his lip. “Eventually I got evicted, but it didn’t really matter at that point. I couldn’t remember sleeping, let alone paying my rent.”

Kuroo realises how silly that statement sounds, but the look you give him tells him you understand.

The only memories of his life before are braided with the city, with the feeling of losing himself. There are no names, no details, no dreams. There are some faces, but they’re transparent as ghosts.

“I just…” You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. It’s hard. He can tell. “I just don’t know what to do.”

He looks at you, tired and sick as you are. You’re afraid. Lonely. Directionless.

He knows. He’s been there. In many ways, he’s still there. If there is comfort to be found in this strange underworld, he has not yet found it. But, perhaps he can offer it.

“Just stick with me,” he smiles at you as best he could, hoping the warmth reached his eyes.

You gaze at him for a long moment, your eyebrows slightly pinched. He understands if you don’t trust him; it’s smart not to, given the circumstances. You were alone, somewhere you didn’t understand. He wouldn’t begrudge you for that.

“Where am I?” You ask. The words are frail, the question one you’re afraid of.

Kuroo swallows, unable to meet your gaze. “I don’t know, actually. I just know it’s… strange. And that the people here aren’t human.”

“Are you human?” You’re quick to ask that question.

He grins at you. “As far as I know.”

You bite your lip, looking up at the sky. It’s paler than it was when the two of you first sat down in this little alleyway. He knows there isn’t much time left this evening.

“That’s enough for me, I guess,” you sigh, closing your eyes.

He hopes that, at least, brings you some comfort.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Those cats are walking on their hind legs.”

“Uh huh,” Kuroo nods, a smile playing at his lips. “Because they’re not cats.”

You turn to him, frowning.

“I know,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know what they are, to be honest. I just know they’re not cats.”

You sit on the roof of a convenience store, elevated just high enough to see a little clearer. A few nights ago, you wouldn’t have been so bold.

The not-cats move across the powerline like it's a tightrope, one paw in front of the other as they skitter along with perfect balance. They are too far away and the night is too dark for you to see them clearly, those vaguely feline shadows against the purple sky. The flashes of red that you guess to be their eyes don’t frighten you. Not while Kuroo sits next to you.

You still don’t know if you trust him. That’s half a lie; you do trust him. You just don’t know if it’s wise to. But it didn’t take you long to realise that this is the world you live in now.

You had once believed that nobody else existed here in this strange half-awake place. You’d thought it was just you and him. But others flit by now, both frightened and frightening. Even if it’s against your better judgement, you feel safe with him.

One of the not-cats pauses on a pole, its tail straight as an arrow. It holds an upturned paw in front of its little snout and blows air across it.

A ghostly little fireball swirls in the air, illuminating the not-cat’s face for the first time.

You straighten up, tilting your head at this new peculiarity.

“Look!” You gasp, patting Kuroo’s arm. “They’re like you.”

He grins. He’s glad for the curiosity in your eyes. “Not quite.”

He waves his hand and a scatter of fireflies burst into life. They envelop the two of you, a gentle swathe of light falling across your bodies. They’re only little, like white candle flames floating through the air.

“Yours look like the stars,” you murmur, reaching out to touch them. Your fingertip brushes against one, its warmth spreading through your finger as it disperses.

“Mhm,” Kuroo nods. Sometimes, if he is lucky, he gets a glimpse of the real thing in the blackest of nights. Most of the time, the sky plays host to nothing but the moon; a pallid, hollow-cheeked watcher, who never waxes nor wanes.

No, those little ghostly fireballs look something like the moon. Or perhaps the sun.

You can’t quite recall what the sun feels like.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Shouldn’t we help him?”

A small, scrawny child stands in the middle of the road, a straw hat drawn low over their eyes. You and Kuroo stand in an alleyway across the street, huddled together for warmth.

Kuroo grins. He should’ve expected you’d react like this, your eyes all wide and full of compassion as you watch the child. “Just watch.”

You look up at him, eyes betraying both concern and confusion. He nods at the child, reaching to ruffle your hair.

You blush, looking away from him quickly.

The child approaches the bottle shop, each step taken with great deliberation. It glances over its shoulder, and you catch a flash of its eyes. Bright, clever, sharp. A bit like Kuroo’s.

The child slips through the glass doors, tottering up to the attendant at the front desk.

You watch through the glass, poking your head out of the alley.

The child holds its hand out, standing on its tiptoes to be more level with the attendant. The man in question looks deeply unamused; an exhausted replica of a scowl lines his face, and he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

The man peers at the child, eyes narrowing. He says something.

Poof!

Where there once stood a child in a straw hat now stands an otter in a straw hat that is far too big for its head.

It turns on its tail and flees, the man shouting after it. But, he does not pursue it, letting it skitter off into the night.

The otter scampers down the asphalt road, the sound of its claws scratching against the rough surface.

Kuroo whistles. The otter skids to an abrupt stop, whipping its head around as its whiskers twitch.

Kuroo grins, holding out a flask you didn’t even realise he had. The otter scuttles forward on all fours. You realise, perhaps with more surprise than is warranted, that it’s rather cute.

“Where were you keeping that?” You frown, tilting your head at him.

Kuroo grins, ruffling your hair. You blush. You’re still growing used to this close proximity between the two of you.

“Why give it to an otter?” You scoff.

“Not an otter,” Kuroo smiles. “But, think of it as payment. For the entertainment.”

You smile, shaking your head.

He’s relieved. It’s the first time he’s seen your face soften like that.

✧ ✧ ✧

The streets are full of ghosts.

And yet, it’s the first time the city has felt truly alive.

You watch them pass with wonder.

There is a woman, donning only a blood-stained skirt and an expression of anguish. Another boasts the same look of despair, only this one has no feet, drifting above the ground with arms held out and wrists limp, long blcack hair trailing behind her. Men stalk the streets in golden Heian robes with nothing but pure vengeance in their eyes.

There are others too. Red trolls roam the street, clad only in tiger skin loincloths and weidling iron clubs. A group of the otters from before totters down the street, straw hats balancing precariously on their heads. Those bipedal cats bolt across rooftops and hop along power lines.

All these spirits mill about, some mingling, others avoiding everyone else with a certain perseverance. A few slip through doorways and windows, and you wonder if they’re visiting their descendants. You hope that’s all they’re doing.

“What’s going on?” You ask, dodging a demon as it barrels down the street.

Kuroo shrugs. “Not entirely sure. But I think it’s some kind of festival.”

“A festival?” You look up at him, your hands dug deep in your pockets. You can’t imagine just how scared you’d be if he wasn’t with you. Honestly, you’re not sure what would’ve happened to you. If you’d even be standing here.

Kuroo nods. “I think so.”

He looks up and down the street, a bemused smirk on his face. “Although, they could’ve organised some stalls.”

“I don’t think ghosts have much use for street food,” you hum.

He chuckles, ruffling your hair. “I guess we have to make our own fun, huh?”

You huff as you raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m not giving any more whisky to those otters.”

“Oh, come on.” He nods back at the street with a grin. “What else are we gonna do? Tie that guy’s robe up?”

You look at the man in question. It was one of those men, the ones who look as if they’re devoured by vengeance.

“I don’t think that’s the greatest idea,” you shake your head, shuddering at the thought. Could ghosts hurt you now, in this in-between world?

“What about that guy?” He says, pointing at one of the red trolls. “We could steal his club.”

“I do not want to get on that guy’s bad side,” you say, looking up at Kuroo with a hint of fear in your eyes.

“Live a little!” He grins, poking your cheek.

You pout at him. That only makes his grin grow wider.

He turns his attention to the procession in front of you, his grin turning devilish. “Do you think ghosts have money?”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I’m just saying,” he groans, stepping into the procession without warning. You dash to keep up with him.

“What would you even buy with it?” You ask, falling into step with him – which is easier said than done, considering the length of his legs.

He shrugs. “I dunno. Might be nice to give the guy at the bottle shop real money for once.”

“But it’d be ghost money,” you consider. “Wouldn’t that be cursed?”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Like you don’t know for sure that it’s safe.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head. “How have I managed to stay on my own two feet without you, huh?”

You blush, your face suddenly feeling very hot. “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”

“I’ve still got time.”

“Don’t joke about that!” You hiss, elbowing in the side. “That’s a bit insensitive given our companions, isn’t it?”

He laughs again. It might not be the prettiest sound, but it’s one you’re rather fond of. “Glad to know you’re that concerned about me.”

There are things you want to say, sitting at the back of your throat. Things like, ‘I’d be so lonely if it weren’t for you,’ and ‘I don’t know if I would’ve been able to find my way if it weren’t you,’ or ‘I don’t know if I would’ve ever smiled again if it weren’t for you.’

But you say none of that. You keep those close to your chest. Maybe you’ll tell him, but not tonight.

You merely gaze at him.

He looks different. Sharper, maybe. Or perhaps, you just haven't paid enough attention to him before.

“What?” He grins, catching your eye.

You look away quickly, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Nothing.”

He grins, leaning down so his face is level with yours. “You sure?”

You glare at him, hoping your cheeks won’t betray how flustered you really are.

“Just teasing,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair.

Your instinct is to roll your eyes, even if that’s not what you really want to do. But you won’t think about that. Not right now.

Kuroo’s already heading down the street, looking over his shoulder at you with a wild grin. “You coming?”

You tilt your head at him. He nods at the sky, a familiar glint in his eye. You scamper after him with your hands dug in your pockets. The two of you thread through the alleyways, finding your way towards your typical route to the rooftops. It’s almost second-nature now, but you could swear that Kuroo has a more natural talent for it. Perhaps it is just because his legs are so damn long.

As always, he hops onto the rooftop of the convenience store before you, grinning down at the street below. You pout at him, trying your best to tug on his heartstrings; just like you always do.

He offers you a hand. You take it, and he pulls you up. The two of you clamper across the rooftop, sitting yourselves down on the edge. Your legs dangle off the side as you look down at the informal procession thin out below you.

You sit in comfortable silence, letting the world pass the two of you by. You can feel it, in this rare moment; peace. That sense of relief in knowing you’re not alone. In knowing there are still things to smile about.

You know it’s because of the boy sitting next to you. Of the warmth he brings you in this city of ghosts.

There is so much you want to say to him. So much you can’t put into words. But as you look up at the pale sky, you know that now is not the time.

The moon is setting. You think you’ll always dread this moment.

“Kuroo?” You murmur, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Can you make some fireflies, please?” Your voice is so gentle, carried away by the light that bleeds across the horizon.

He nods, holding a hand out. These days, he can’t say no to you.

✧ ✧ ✧

You hadn’t expected to build half a life.

And yet here you are, sitting in an abandoned apartment, next to something of an apartment.

It’s a life half-lived, harbouring in abandoned places, rifling through the trash for scraps of this and that. People throw out perfectly good furniture, you discovered. Perfectly good food, too.

At the end of the day, you’re just grateful for the shelter. Grateful for the comfort he brings you in this strange underworld.

Kuroo is grateful for the fantasy. He’s grateful for the fact that sometimes, he can let his mind wander, take him on a journey through the life you could have shared together, should things have been different. A life spent in the sun, full of people and laughter and purpose.

He wonders, most of all, about what you would look like, under the sun’s gentle warmth. How breathtaking you would be.

He tells you none of this. He harbours those feelings for himself, for the most part. But he suspects that you feel the same.

You hold hands, now. He can’t remember when it started, but he’s glad it did.

The two of you sit at the window, rain pelting against fractured glass as the sky bellows.

Light splits the sky, and for a second Kuroo almost believes it's daytime.

A creature springs to life on a rooftop. It’s wolf-like, its pale blue fur crackling with white light. There’s something majestic about it, gleaming amongst rundown rooftops and dodgy power lines.

Another crack of light, and a second creature joins the first. They glance at each other for a moment, bowing their heads low. And then, they sprint off.

He chances a look at you. You’re enamoured, eyes bright and full of curiosity as you watch the wolves bound across the rooftops.

He smiles as he watches you, unable to hold back his fondness. You’ve brought him such joy, such comfort, without even knowing it. No matter how frightened he is, how matter how much he feels like things are slipping away from him, you bring him solace.

You look at him, tilting your head to the side. There’s such tenderness in your face, such sincere affection. Maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way he does.

He leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You freeze, but you’re not afraid. It’s soft, and its warmth spreads through you much like his fireflies do.

He pulls away, eyes unbearably fond as he looks at you.

You laugh, a new, welcome feeling beating in your chest. “Why did you do that?”

“It felt right,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You laugh again, shifting to face him properly.

He thinks it’s a beautiful sound. One he wishes he could hear more often. One he wishes he could hear for a long time coming. Longer than he would, at least.

You kiss him, hands coming up to cup his face. He relaxes into it, much like any human would.

He wants to lose himself in this. In you. In this little moment of human intimacy.

But he’s changing. He can feel it. He’s been dreaming. How, he’s not sure. But in each and every one, he’s a fox.

He doesn’t know what the dreams mean. But he feels, deep in the part of him that will always be human, that these dreams are a warning. An echo of what’s to come.

He’s only just found you, only just begun to love you.

He doesn’t notice the little fireflies popping into existence around you, punctuating the dark with each beat of his heart. They’re bigger than before.

✧ ✧ ✧

The stars are out.

It’s a rare sight in this city, which is so bright and vibrant that it tends to blot out the night sky. But tonight, you can see it in all its glory.

The two of you sit at the window of your apartment, faces turned to the sky.

“Do you know any of the constellations?” You ask, turning to him with bright eyes.

Kuroo smiles and shakes his head. “None of the official ones. But it’s fun making them up.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head at him.

He looks tired. He’s been acting it, too. Quiet. Reticent. Distant. There’s something unreachable about him that’s never been there before.

“Point some out to me,” you ask, desperate for anything to fill the silence.

Kuroo leans closer to the window, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s a cat,” he says, pointing to one cluster of stars.

If you squint, you can almost see it.

“And that’s a dick,” he chuckles, pointing to something on the other side of the sky.

“Very mature of you.”

He ignores you, dragging his finger across the sky to point at the brightest star of all.

“And that’s you,” he grins, turning to look at you.

“Shut up,” you huff, knocking him with your elbow.

“Aw, are you all embarrassed?” He snickers, reaching over and ruffling your hair.

“You’re so cheesy.”

“I thought you liked it when I was cheesy.”

“When have I ever given you any indication of that?”

He answers your question with a kiss. His lips smile against yours, and you believe, for a moment, that everything will be okay.

He pulls away from you too soon, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Hey, Tetsu?” You murmur as you bring a hand to his cheek.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” You ask, smoothing your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m fine,” he smiles at you as best he can. But even he knows it’s not enough.

“I’m worried about you.”

A horrible silence thickens between the two of you, and the fear rooting itself in your chest is starting to blossom.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You know there isn’t much you can do in this place between the cracks. But whatever you can do, you will. He’s done so much for you after all.

His gaze is distant, as if he’s looking at something just beyond you.

You want to say something — anything. But you don’t know what. You don’t know how to reach him.

He spreads his legs, patting the floor between them.

You frown, but you sit on it nonetheless. You turn your back to him for comfort’s sake, wondering what on earth he is getting at.

He wraps his arms around you, propping his chin on the top of your head as you fall back into his chest.

“Can we just… stay here a while?” He asks, something very strange, very unfamiliar in his voice. It sounds a bit like regret.

“Okay.” You comply.

He’s warm, his arms firm as he holds you close to him. He holds you like he never wants to let go; like if he did, that would be the end.

That, more than anything else, frightens you.

This wonderful boy, this man who has done all he can to bring you light and joy, is scared of something. Something he doesn’t want to admit to you. You try to glance up at him, but you can’t see his face.

You bite your lip, casting your eyes to the window once more.

The moon is setting, and daylight is bleeding through the sky.

There is no way to know what the next evening will bring.

✧ ✧ ✧

You’re alone.

All that’s left are the fireflies, stronger and brighter than before.

You can’t find the tears.

But you cry anyway.

✧ ✧ ✧

The city is ageless. It has changed much, and yet it hasn’t changed at all. It writhes with something deeper, something darker than what meets the eye.

Someone new is here. A girl, afraid, alone, frightened.

But she is not alone.

On the other side of the street, a figure is bent over, hand held flat with an inarizushi sitting in it. A fox eats it eagerly, its fur glistening with something otherworldly.

The girl wonders if she should approach, if she should ask something, anything.

You don’t notice the girl on the other side of the street. You are far too focused on the kitsune in front of you, your mind cycling through the same few thoughts.

You wonder how long it will be until you see the fireflies again.

You wonder if you’ll still remember him.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou imagines #aaaaaa this took forever but i hope you enjoy it!#i think i'm happy with it?#fantasy week #haikyuucreations #forgot to tag that one hhh

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rpmemes-galore · 4 years

Text

supernatural : season 5 ... sentence starters

“Hey, ass-butt.!”

“Well, go ahead. Kill me.“

“I'm going to kill you, myself.“

“I just don't think I can trust you.“

“No. It's foolish, it can't be done.“

“You are nine kinds of crazy, boy.”

“I can't do this without you. I can't.“

“I found a liquor store. And I drank it.”

“You won't kill him. You wouldn't dare.“

“Oh, nothing, just the end of the world.“

“I'm making this stuff up as I go. Sue me!”

“Well, then I ain't gonna let him die alone.“

“Do we have any chance of surviving this?“

“What's wrong with you? Are you... drunk?“

“I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous.“

“I was dead from the moment we said ‘hello’.“

“I can do this. I can. I'm gonna prove it to you.“

“I thought you were supposed to be impressive.”

“You've come a long way to see this, haven't you?“

“I can't fight, I can't walk, but I can do something...”

“I would give anything, anything, to take it all back...”

“All of them? You think you have to save everyone?“

“What am I supposed to do, just let you off the hook?“

“Would you believe I'm actually trying to protect you?“

“But there's no other explanation. He's gone for good.“

“Honestly, people don't need a reason to kill each other.“

“I'm hunted, I have rebelled, and I did it - all of it - for you.“

“There's something in me that... scares the hell out of me.”

“I'm sure the apocalypse'll still be there when we get back.“

“You can think whatever you want. I deserve it, and worse.”

“You know we destroyed that kid's life by telling him the truth.“

“I can see inside your head. And it is a one-track city in there.“

“So, is there a quota? How many people do you have to save?“

“I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here, you know?“

“She was the love of my life; how many times do I gotta kill her?“

“Just when we thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh?”

“Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup.”

“You gotta stop poking around in my dreams; I need some me time.“

“It's my job, somebody's gotta save people's asses. Yours included.“

“I'm gonna rip you apart from the inside out. Do you understand me?“

“And I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.“

“Why do you have to hunt monsters? Why not let someone else do it?“

“You don't have to be afraid of me,. What do you think I'm going to do?“

“I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am, I'm... I'm really good.“

“Damn right, they're flawed... But a lot of 'em try to do better, to forgive.”

“I have to believe someone can make the right choice, even if I couldn't.“

“Don't you get it? You can't run from yourself. Why are you running now?“

“You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something.“

“You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be.“

“I guess I'm a little numb with the earth-shattering revelations at this point.“

“You want to be strong, again, but not just strong... stronger than everybody.”

“Same song, different verse. Things are never gonna change with you. Never.“

“I am calm. And I'd very calmly like to talk about the monster that's hunting us.“

“I know how messed up that sounds, which means, I know how messed up I am.”

“You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless, and selfish, and arrogant.“

“Last I checked, it wasn't the road to heaven that was paved with good intentions.“

“You better kill me, now! Or I swear, I will find a way to kill you. And I won't stop---!”

“I am wearing sunglasses at night! You know who does that? No-talent douchebags.“

“I got your message. It was long, your message. I find the sound of your voice grating.“

“You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew.“

“Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but... aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant?“

“You were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even...“

“I got no idea. But what I do have is a G.E.D., and a ‘give 'em hell’ attitude and I'll figure it out.“

“Could you do me a favor there, Satan, and remind me to quit drinking before I go to bed?“

“You don’t know my family. What you guys call the Apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner!“

“I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be.”

“No drinking, no gambling, no premarital sex. They basically just outlawed 90 percent of your personality.”

“Sweetheart, if this is our last night on Earth, then I'm going to spend it with a little thing I call self-respect.“

“You're not fooling me, you know that? With this 'sympathy for the devil' crap. I know what you are.”

“It is not fun, it's not entertaining. It is a river of crap that would send most people howling to the nuthouse!“

“Sooner or later, the past is gonna catch up to you like it always does. You know what happens then? People die.“

“What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy; you cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry.”

“Look. I know what I did. What I've done. And I am trying to climb out of that hole, I am, but you're not making it any easier.“

“This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If by some miracle, we pull this off, I want you to lose my number. You understand me?“

“An ugly, evil, belly-to-the-ground supernatural piece of crap. The only difference between them and you, is the size of your ego.”

“And that's exactly what you're going to do: you're going to take all that crap, and you're gonna bury it. You're gonna forget about it, because that's how we keep going.“

#rp meme #sentence starters #spn quotes

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hayden-thefuck-whywouldyoudothis · 3 years

Text

HAYDEN LORE

for @thatoneao3writer because i am too lazy to send an ask rn

not the happiest with how this turned out, but i believe it will suffice for now.

So, you know the hc that Glatt would haunt Michael on the Dream SMP? Well, guess what? I am obligated to traumatise a child as the Dream Kinnie of the discord, and so, I will be taking the place of Glatt.

The murderer replaces the dictator.

-------------

Silence.

It always starts with silence, doesn’t it?

And for good reason.

It’s pure.

A clean slate.

Always was, always will be.

Right?

“No.” He shakes his head, “No, it’s not right. Listen, listen to me, Tubbo.” Ranboo grabs Tubbo by the shoulders, the optimal way to get the teen to listen, especially when he’s being stubborn. “You have to let him move through grief on his own. You can’t force it. You- you can’t-” Ranboo’s voice breaks, and Tubbo’s face softens, giving the taller a firm hug.

“Boo? Bo? Is everything okay?” Michael had snuck up on them. Tubbo and Ranboo share a look, before Ranboo forces a chuckle, picking his ‘son’ up to give him a hug.

“Hey Bub. Everythings just fine.” Ranboo assures the child, giving him a tight hug. Michael feels tears on his dad’s face, and pulls away from the hug. He watches his fathers face, contemplating. He giggles all of a sudden, putting his small hands on Ranboo’s cheeks, feeling him give a small smile, tears still streaming down his face.

“Dad!” Michael smiles. “I love you.” Ranboo smiles, pulling all three into a hug. After a beat, they separate, and Ranboo let's Michael down on the floor, urging him to go play and let the other two talk.

The tears are still there.

He does a good job of hiding the pain.

…

Michael listens.

What else would he do?

The two most important people in his life were distraught and trying so hard to hide it.

The more he listened, the more he learned. ‘Their close friend Tommy was grieving. They had all lost a friend. Their friend named Wilbur. He was a bad man, but he had been a good friend. He killed people. He-’

“So did I. Doesn’t make anyone special.” Someone says from behind where Michael is sitting. He looks around.

“Wh- who- who said th- that?” He manages to force out, There is a chuckle to his left, the voice sending shivers up his spine. There was something not right about it, it was off. Something moves, and a humanoid becomes visible. They are transparent, but their hands are burnt black, covered in ashes.

“Michael, right?” They ask, floating closer, eerily. Michael nods, recoiling when they offer a handshake. “Hmm,” They look Michael up and down, evaluating, analyzing. “You know, it feels good to be back.” Michael takes another good look. At first glance, they seem completely normal, at least before they speak. But then you look closer. You see the burn marks, and the ash, and the blood.

‘Why is there so much blood?’

“Well that has an easy answer! You should really be asking harder questions, Michael.” They laugh. It’s terrifying. “The blood is from the veins of the bodies dead at my feet, piling higher and higher. The blood of innocent people always was sweeter than that of the guilty.” And that's when the person moves, floating towards Ranboo and Tubbo. They don’t seem to notice. Michael gasps, and they look back at him, tilting their head and giving a smile. Without warning there is a dagger in each hand, at his parents' necks.

They don’t seem to mind.

Without thinking, Michael screams. It’s loud and heart-shattering. It’s like he was witnessing murder. Ranboo and Tubbo stop talking, running over to comfort the child. The person doesn’t move, just smiles.

“It was nice to meet me, right Michael? I would say the same in your own regard, but I’ve been watching for a long time. See you soon.”

And they disappear.

That was only the beginning.

-------------

The next time they showed up, Michael was all alone. Ranboo and Tubbo had to leave, had ‘something to do’. Tommy had come and collected them late at night, right as Michael had gone to bed, this being one of the nights that Michael was staying in the Tower. Bad had helped him get ready for bed, making sure he had his chicken plush before saying goodnight and leaving, promising that Tubbo and Ranboo would be back by morning.

Michael knew the truth, that the two people who meant the most to him were most likely in danger at that very moment. He might be young, but he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was turning 6 soon!!! Hopefully Tubbo and Ranboo would be back soon, Michael desperately wanted to go to the park tomorrow.

“Can’t go to the park if they're dead.”

Michael pales at the voice. It’s back. ‘Why is it back?’ A bone-chilling laugh.

“Why Michael, your fear summoned me. There really is quite a lot of it. Fear of abandonment, fear of death, fear of losing a loved one, fear of being alone.” They chuckle, picking up one of Michaels toys, tossing it around as a form of entertainment, as if scaring a child wasn’t enough. “I really just saved you from that one, huh? No matter, you’re terrified of me, and that gives me all the power I could want, not that that’s what I’m after.” Michael looks at them, thinking.

‘Who is this? How did they get in here? Where are Boo and Bo? I really want them now, so I can have a hug and a brownie from the Titans kitchen. I want-’

“Hmmmm, that really is a very specific request Michael. But, you did ask one good question. Who am I? Who do you think I am Michael?”

He freezes, trying to think of what to call the person floating in front of him. After a moment, he gives up saying,

“You’re a scary man.” The person laughs.

“Well not quite, Michael, but close. I am Hayden Eyens. A hunter, a ghost, a storyteller, a prisoner, a witch, and, above all, a murderer. As for how I got in here, I can get to wherever I want or need to be.” Michael curls up against the headboard of the bed, not completely understanding everything that the person- no, Hayden- had said. But he did understand one thing.

Murderer.

It’s what everyone calls Wilbur.

“Let that sit with you Michael. I hope we talk again soon.” Hayden fades away, laughing maniacally.

Michael doesn’t sleep that night.

-------------

It doesn’t end there.

Hayden shows up at the worst times, feeding off of the fear that Michael hates so much. Every once in a while, Hayden’s visits are nice, and they just talk, and Michael learns, listening to the stories told so colourfully that it was like looking at a painting. He learns about how Hayden had grown up, having a similar start in life to Michael. Loving parents who were no longer there for one reason or another, eventually leading to the ghosts' untimely demise at the hands of the village they had grown up in. Michael listens to Hayden talk about manipulation and murder. It’s not very nice to listen to, but it is preferable to the bad days.

The bad days are the days where Hayden manipulates him, messing with his mind and his sense of right and wrong. The days when Hayden possesses him, trapping his conscious inside of himself, making him claustrophobic and terrified of possession.

It makes him think of the accident. What had happened when Michael had gotten very hurt by a bad man, and he had been stuck where he couldn’t get away, couldn’t escape. Once, Hayden had explained how the possession worked.

“Your conscious is the lesser one, of course. My mind pokes and prods and searches until it finds a way in. And when it does-” They smile. “When it does, my mind takes control. And it forces your mind into a tiny, tiny box. It is so refreshing. An escape from my own guilt.” Before Michael could even ask what they felt guilty for, Hayden was gone again, sure to return soon enough.

It went on for a long time, day in and day out, never subsiding long enough for a true break or recovery. The manipulation and the fear and the claustrophobia grow worse, almost to the point where Michael often couldn’t be left alone in some rooms in Bo’s house, Uncle Tommy’s house, or even the Titan’s Tower.

And one day, out of the blue, Hayden disappeared. The most peculiar thing happened as well, for right before Hayden had disappeared, Bo and Boo had seen them. They had flown at the trio at the Bee n’ Boo late one night, and they had freaked out. That was why Michael freaked out as well. Not because a ghost had flown at him, for he was used to that already, but seeing his favourite people freak out.

Later, Michael heard Ranboo and Tubbo talking. Apparently, there were more people like Hayden, though they weren’t all bad. Tanboo and Tubbo had met them. To repeat what Tubbo had said, it had ‘scared the shit out of them’, whatever that meant.

And that was the end of it.

Or so he believed.

Once a killer, always a killer.

-------------

HELLO

Quick and easy, here is some info about this:

1)This is tied to my fic and that will become somewhat evident in the next update.

2)This takes place during the aftermath of Wilbur's death, before the Askers were introduced to the Titans and the HIVE and such.

3)This was kinda difficult to write, ngl. Michael is very young in this AU, so it is difficult to use complicated themes. Therefore, my solution is that(sticking with what is already canon) Michael was left with Tubbo when he was 3. By the time this takes place, Michael is almost 6. I’d like to think that Tubbo was about 15 or so when he “adopted” Michael, making him 17 or so at this point.

4) I know that the trauma was not super apparent in this, but I feel it is important to establish Michaels trauma and fear of ghosts and Wilbur for my next fic update.

Alright, I am off to work on the next update.

Talk soon,

Hayden <3

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silcrow-story · 3 years

Text

Salvage III

The Past Peripheral

Dana walks upstairs just as soon as she’s sure June’s left, tries not to catch her eye as she walks by. Her hood’s back up, her tears have dried; she appears as composed as she can.

As she opens the door to her apartment, she becomes acutely aware of how tired she is. She’s been awake for just shy of twenty-four hours; she flips her phone open to check the time, make a mental note of it. 09:03. She’ll need to make it through to sunset, yet.

She can hear Nadia pacing back and forth in her room; the walls aren’t all that thick, and it’s not such an unfamiliar sound. She marks a pang of sympathetic worry in her chest, sets her cup of coffee by the sink, and walks to the far end of the kitchen, turns left at the window, steps into her room.

Once she’s at rest, face-down on her air-mattress, sleeping back spread half-open, she tries to clear her head of all thoughts of the present and future as yet haunt her. She likes to slip into the past when no-one’s looking; if she’s careful and she keeps her hands steady, there’s nothing can hurt her there. She’s had no such luck with the present. Fuck it, she thinks, the cutting-room floor can have the rest, and lets a neatly edited memory wash over her, envelop her like an autumn wind.

Another equinox, and 1500 leagues away; a shallow field awash in mid-afternoon sunshine. It’s not really all that far from civilisation – indeed, it’s within an arm’s reach, if she cared to, but she doesn’t, and for the moment it’s a world apart. Not quite warm, not quite cool; not still nor silent but subtly alive.

It’s a shallow scene, but for now it’s enough to get lost in, as the amphetamines in her blood dissolve into inactive metabolites. Only one or two ghosts here, she thinks, and only shadows to fight. It was a simpler time; she doesn’t even mind that particular cliché. She can’t hear Nadia’s pacing anymore; maybe it’s the two sets of walls, maybe Nadia’s taken a moment to lie down herself, maybe Dana’s simply sufficiently sequestered in reverie. It’s alright like this, she thinks. And it is, for the moment.

She’s casting a sidelong glance at a ghost as a cloud passes over the sun. She’s rarely lonely in these memories, the ones she’s set aside as outposts of retreat. The grass is green but drying as the season starts to turn; it’s dying, and it goes without a fight. And yet, and yet, despite it all, the witch-hazel in seed alights on some soft breeze, borne on by thin white strands that seem all to few to bear the weight of new life. New life was all around, then, even in the face of winter’s coming on; perhaps, then, there is new life now, despite cruel summer that she knows comes hence – it’s a notion that’s easy enough to entertain, from the safety of this scene.

But the present moment intrudes, like a knife between two ribs, and the set falls away and Dana tosses and turns ‘til she’s left alone on the sound-stage, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, and there’s a crack in it as ever. Behind her eyes, and above, and out, there extends some black corridor, the lights therein having burnt out at once in maybe a dozen frames between them. A dozen frames duly lost, disposed of, swept away.

Two hours pass in relative quiet, and relative peace; while she can’t quite fall asleep, Dana can at least rest her eyes, and let the redness fade, and breathe.

In the room across the kitchen, Nadia’s stopped pacing, although her racing thoughts have yet to slow. She’s given June her number, and she’s said she means to get back to her when she’s sorted all this out, and she does. It took her a full minute after June left to realize that she hadn’t even thought to look at what, besides her name and address, might be written in the notebook to which she’s still holding on so tight.

And so she lay out across her bed, and hesitating only slightly, opened it to the first page, and found it entirely blank.

She hadn’t been sure what she expected; it wasn’t that much of a letdown. And now, as she reclines again, she almost wants to keep looking, press on. The longer she lets the thought linger, the more she supposes there must be something in there, after all, that the book mightn’t’ve come to her under such circumstances for nothing, and –

– and so she gives into the temptation, and takes a look at the second page.

Which second page is blank as well, but that’s to be expected. She doesn’t stop before turning to the next one, and the next one, and the next, the pages tumbling one by one, a mid-tempo cascade. A crescendo, tense and off-kilter. A page, and then another.

Christopher doesn’t want to think about death, as he passes the gas station, heading west-southwest, walking as fast as he can manage without really exerting himself. He doesn’t want to think about death, but it’s an inevitability when he’s out walking around this time of day. The song that’s playing isn’t that much help; the singer’s pleading desperately that someone might remember him, hanging on tight to his only hope, and Christopher wishes he couldn’t relate quite so much as he does.

He’s lived in this college town for several years now; it’s been several years since he’s been a student. He doesn’t think all that much about his two brief semesters of study at the university these days; he’s had other things on his mind. Though he’s held his ground, this town, his almost-home, for so significant a fraction of his life, his mind remains cluttered with images – places, voices, memories, some his own and others not. He knows this gas station, and a few others; the convenience stores, most all of them; St. Peter’s Hospital and its blessed, damned emergency room; much of the college campus, the fountain, the sculpture; the stairway up the hill, from 19th Avenue to 20th; the list goes on.

So, too, does Christopher go on, past a grocery store and an apartment complex and the high school and its baseball field, and another apartment block, and finally the traffic light at the intersection where he crosses the parkway to stand kitty-corner from the State Archives. He’s been walking toward the sunset, but now he turns away, and sets off uphill, toward his final destination. He’s got an appointment to make, and he knows it; he exhales sharply, raises his hood, and tries to let his music drown out the passing traffic.

The trees rise tall around him and the soft, slow song surrounds him in a tenebrous indigo haze, the swelling sub-bass a premonition of the twilight impending. The clouds are perforated, now, punctured as to let stray beams of early evening light pierce through and dapple with marbled shadows the ground beneath the boughs through which they pass. Nonetheless, the atmosphere, the signs of imminent rain, all have yet to pass. The singer’s deep in love and fear, and feeling trapped, her voice arcing from a dark half-whisper to an empassioned cry as she pleads for her beloved to see, to bear witness, to notice her if only as an afterthought. Christopher pretends once more that he’s not in her shoes – it’s just a song, it’s just a nice song – and sets his own shoes to the pavement, and presses on; the branches of impassive evergreens above sway on, and shatter all kaleidoscopic his thin shadow.

Hours earlier and just a block or so west-southwest, June’s leaving Nadia’s apartment, trying to gather her thoughts. It’s fairly early yet, all things considered, and there aren’t many people about; in her going back she passes just one figure, furtive in a hoodie, face freckled with the falling rain from whence she’s stepped, which figure stands still briefly before walking by, wordless. June’s too preoccupied to pay her much mind.

She’s only slept an hour or so out of the past twenty-four; she had to rise well before dawn to make on time the spot that Christopher’d prescribed. She knows she needs to get some rest, but she’s still thinking, about Nadia and the notebook and how she’d not once opened it, not once. That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

It’s still on her mind as she unlocks her own apartment door, blue-grey, cold steel handle, brass key. It’s all but underground, apartment 20, room D; her room’s only window looks out on the rocky embankment and shallow depression in the hillside into which the complex as a whole is wedged. She imagines it’d make most any other tenant a bit uncomfortable; the lack of natural light in the morning, the proximity to the sidewalk and the parkway’s traffic overhead. June doesn’t mind, really. She takes some strange comfort in her room’s position – it’s surrounded, and so in some implict sense protected. Once she’s inside, door locked behind her, overhead light switched on, she surveys her room and all her scattered thoughts at once.

Her room’s only slightly cluttered, but all that’s scattered around gives the impression that there’s more clutter than is actually present. Clothes are strewn across the floor; the desk beneath the window’s covered in stray papers, and the several spiral-ring notebooks from whence they’ve been torn. Her laptop’s still open on her bed; the battery’s running low. It’s become a bit overwhelming, June realises for the third time this week, having so much up in the air. So many diversions, and Nadia, and Christopher, and whatever’s in that notebook only amount to one more. One more cul-de-sac, one more dead end…

Her train of thought careens into oblivion as she notices she’d been wondering about the contents of the notebook for the first time. It wouldn’t have been right to look, she thinks, so why am I regretting it now? It’s really Nadia, if anyone, who needs to know.

June takes off her glasses and closes her laptop and tumbles into her twin bed. She can’t remember the last time she’s had a good night’s sleep, and so she closes her eyes, and wonders briefly if there’s anywhere she ought to be right now. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overtake her; sleep, first, and then dreams.

She doesn’t realise she’s dreaming at first; the feeling is real, even if the setting isn’t. She’s lying down on something, hard metal, brushed steel, bleachers. It’s a soccer pitch, and it’s late at night, but there’s something different about the sky here. It’s vast, and as close to black as blue can get, and there are more stars than usual – so many more that it’s striking first, then more captivating with each passing moment.

As she watches this foreign starfield, June gradually becomes aware of the fact that she’s not alone. There are a few ghosts there with her – perhaps two or three, their faces half-turned away from the camera in shadow. She doesn’t recognise them quite yet, and she doesn’t feel especially obliged to. The stars wheel above her, and she begins to notice the planets among them; first Venus, then Mars. It’s spring, she decides. The air smells like spring. It’s Aries season, and she can tell by the nip in the air that she’s up north. Up north, and west of somewhere; she’s too fascinated by the fractals forming from the depths of the firmament’s parabola above.

She gets to her feet, eventually, and feels dizzy, feels like she’s falling, and that’s when she realises it’s a dream. She doesn’t want to wake just yet, though, so she holds on tight, and stands straight and tall as she can, and stays a while longer.

Nadia’s still in her room, flipping through page after page. She’s not really sure what she’s looking for, at this point. Some indication, perhaps, that the book was hers, or that it wasn’t – surely, it was left where it was for a reason.

Around the twenty-first page she begins to notice marks – not words or letters, just faint pencil-strokes. As she sees the first her breath catches in her throat; the mark itself bears no significance to her, but its presence there does. Someone was here before, she thinks, and shivers at the thought. This wasn’t just something I’d lost and forgotten; somebody gave this to me.

Of course she wonders why, but at this point that question seems far out of reach. What could be the use of wondering why, when it’s not even clear yet just what it is that’s happening. She’s begun to feel altogether out of her depth, and the water-line only rises higher and higher still as the stray pencil strokes begin to articulate themselves into shapes, lines, symbols, and then, at last, numbers. Coordinates, Nadia realises, then, numbly. They’re coordinates. 4*.***, -12*.*** . The datum doesn’t carry any significance to her, on the face of it; she’ll have to look them up later. It’s the implication of their presence that gets to her; the idea that she’s being directed, being by some unseen force guided unto a destination. Just like June was, she thinks, and shivers again, and closes the notebook. Would it be more senseless to go, or not to, she thinks. Is this ‘Christopher’ the one behind it all, or is he being strung along, just like we are? What is there for me to lose? What, if anything, might I stand to gain?

There are far, far to many ambiguities for her comfort. She’s got to work tomorrow, got other things to attend to; she hasn’t, after all, much time to invest in this sort of game. But regardless of what it could mean, regardless of its potential to be a scam, a fiction, a trick, it’s not so easy a thought to let go. Open questions have a way of doing that, of worming their way into a consciousness before their intrusion is even noticed, of quietly yet constantly. A mystery is a vulnerability in the mind’s defenses, a slowly spreading crack in the walls and ceilings, a stray pencil-mark on a white blank page that renders itself with time entirely indelible.

Nadia knows what she has to do, and so, reluctantly setting her notebook aside, she opens her phone – it’s early evening, now, perhaps a quarter to seven – and dials ten digits, holds it to her ear, lets it ring. The rain’s stopped, outside, and there’s a gap in the clouds just broad enough to let through the window, obliquely, the pale glow of some thin sunbeam.

When Dana arrives at the lookout, Topher’s waiting, and she breathes a sigh of relief. It’s a beautiful sunset, over the bay, and it’s in plain view; naturally, he’s staring at his shoes. He hasn’t noticed her yet, or if he has, he’s given no indication, so she ascends the wooden tower to join him, and they stand there in silence for a moment as the red-gold radiation of the sun – not quite below the tree-line – cascades about them.

Eventually, she turns away from the sunset, looks straight at him. “I hope you’ve not been waiting too long,” she says, and she mostly means it.

Christopher takes out his earphones, shakes his head softly. “Nah.”

After another moment, he says, “Do you suppose they’ll make it?”

“Nadia has the coordinates. Nothing for it but to wait,” Dana replies. They’ll come, she thinks. He can’t think we’ve left that much up to chance.

The sun has descended all but entirely into the Pacific by the time June and Nadia pass beneath the arch of rock, walk among the trees, and glance up at the lookout, freeze when they see the figures there, silhouetted in civil twilight.

Hours earlier, June is still lingering in the dreamscape, walking a campus in too many layers of clothing, passing a facade of sheet-glass and aluminum. What’s beyond is all a blur of green and gold, and so she looks closer, turns to face it properly, and allows the blur to articulate itself into something vast and strange.

There rises within that strange greenhouse some titanic plant, a primordial mass of pure life, a vital, verdant relic of another age. The trunk that forms its core is one with the vines that twine about it, and the ruddy blooms that sprout thence, and the roots that seem in their writhing to set the loam in which they’re stuck to shake like something breathing – all these, and more, and stranger parts, are one being. For all the shock of its immense and bizarre form, it evokes in June more respect than revulsion; it is a thing of this Earth, no alien, no stranger. She doesn’t approach, but merely stands, looks on, her upward gaze almost supplicant.

The dream, as dreams so often do, lets the scene seem not as strange as in the waking world it surely might. And so, anaesthetized to the intrinsic anomaly of that great tree’s existence, June lets the time slip by just looking, admiring, inquiring – identifying all its tendrils’ avenues and leaves’ expanses – and at peace.

Then from the metal eaves perhaps five meters overhead there blows a wind, a warm gust from the exhaust-fans, and it rushes to subsume her psychosoma, like a flood. There is a trepidation, a murmur of spring, a stench of mould and compost, and then a fresh, sweet taste, like strawberries and sugar; the world ripples, the ghosts and their faint voices leaving first, and then the greenhouse and its denizen, and then, alas, June, and she is awake.

The call comes but a minute or two later; June’s surprised it didn’t wake her. She picks up, and it’s Nadia; she’d known, somehow, it would be.

Nadia says hello, and says she was looking through the notebook, and asks if she’s free to come over, because there’s something she wants to talk about. June’s only a few doors down, and curious as ever; so, despite the fact she’s only just awoken, she says she’s on her way, and hangs up, and steps outside.

The air is crisp and clear, the clouds shot through with early evening warmth, as June enters the parking lot, and tries to clear her head. The endeavor doesn’t go far, and it only takes her a moment to decide against it; she’d rather have less on her mind going in, she reasons, as she starts up the two flights of stairs to Nadia’s apartment. She’s trying not to wonder what she’s walking into; in this effort, at least, she is successful.

Having reached the blue-grey door, and facing the number 12 in cracked black plastic stuck thereto at eye level, she knocks for the second time that day.

Dana wakes up slowly, despite never really having slept. Her bags are packed, and she’s ready to go, more or less. She flips her phone to check the time – 6 minutes to 7 in the evening. She was making good time before; now, alas, she’s running late. Topher must be there already, at this point, she thinks, and is only just stepping out the door to her room when she’s stopped in mid-stride by a knock at the door.

Before she can decide to dart back inside her room, or to answer the door, Nadia’s stepped out, crossed the kitchen, noticed her standing there. Dana glimpses the notebook she’s got clenched in her right hand – is June here already? I s’pose we won’t be waiting long, then…

And then Nadia’s opened the door, and June is stepping inside. She seems surprised to see Dana standing there, across the kitchen, by the bright blue folding chair and tense, and unsure what to do. Dana’s not quite sure why, but she hopes June doesn’t recognise her from earlier; June cocks her head, adjusts her glasses, tries to decide whether or not she does.

“Oh, hi! You...you must be Nadia’s roommate,” she says, with as much xeniality as she can manage through what’s left of the haze of dreams about her head.

Dana cracks a smile and says she is, and she’s sorry, she was just on her way out and didn’t mean to interrupt; it’s an evident affectation and she knows it, but June and Nadia step aside, and Dana leaves, and sets off to where her associate waits.

Moments later, in her room, Nadia’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading off coordinates; June just stands and listens, wide-eyed – no less confused, and no less curious.

“...and so I looked them up, the coordinates,” Nadia says, almost breathless, livelier than June’s yet seen her, “And they’re like, right here. At the lookout in the arboretum. Did – did Christopher or whoever it was mention anything like this?”

“He didn’t say anything about- no. He didn’t say much at all, really, and I hadn’t had the time to ask, and I didn’t look. Didn’t look in the notebook, I mean.”

Nadia hunches over a bit, looks down at the dusty beige carpet, furrows her brow. A moment, still and taut, goes slowly by; June feels awkward, but she simply stands, and waits, and another moment goes by. Then, at last, Nadia raises her head, and looks June dead in the eye, and says exactly what she was hoping to hear.

“What say we go check it out?”

#silcrow #silcrow-story #03

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rmtndew · 4 years

Text

All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0-blog, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora,

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries.

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews.

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that.

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it.

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself.

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied.

Saturday is perfect. What time would you like to meet?

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down.

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away.

Would you let me pick you up instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?”

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And I’m curious, what does Detective Marshall eat when he’s not eating a cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again.

Stuff that’s probably not very good for him. Like Italian. How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time.

Perfect. I’ll see you Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.”

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that.

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

“It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.”

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated.

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?”

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -”

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door.

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall.

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny.

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me.

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said.

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.”

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.”

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in.

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me.

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead.

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.”

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.”

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?”

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.”

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #All I've Ever Known #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic

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echoes-of-the-clockwork · 3 years

Text

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XVI

Back at the entrance of Steyliff Grove, Aranea stood beside Biggs and Wedge. "Congrats. That concludes your "training." You've still got a hard path ahead, but don't let anyone tell you how to walk it."

"You may have been hired under false pretenses, but your assistance was invaluable all the same," Ignis said.

She smirked slightly. "Hmph. Tell me something I don't know. You can spare the pleasantries."

"Take care walking your path, Aranea."

"Oh, right. Thanks—I will. And I'll "train" you some more if our paths cross again. Oh, and before I forget—His Excellency instructed me to give you boys and firefly a ride back. If you need a lift, feel free to hop on." Aranea walks off with her acquaintances.

Ignis pulls out his phone and checks it just as Prompto sighed in relief. "Well, glad that's over with!"

The strategist lowered his phone after reading the information Cindy sent him. "Noct, I have just received word from Cindy."

"And?" Noctis asked.

"We're to return to Lestallum. Her friend works as an engineer at the power plant. She'll take care of the mythril."

"Uh-huh. And that'll take care of our boat problem!" The sharpshooter cheered.

"Once you're rested and ready, I suggest we hasten back to Lestallum. Make sure you're prepared," Ignis stated.

"Shame to say goodbye to such a nice fishing spot. Wanna see what's biting before we bail?"

Noctis' eyes gleamed at the thought of fishing at the Vesperpool. "Hell yeah I wanna fish."

Before the prince could take another step, Callyx came stomping over with a sharp glare directed towards (Y/n). He walked straight towards her, but was stopped when Prompto built up the courage to place himself between the two guardians. The man was unamused and growled at the boy, "Step aside, human. I won't hesitate to kill you. Either way, I get what I want."

"What's your deal?" Prompto asked, glaring back at him.

"That damned bitch standing behind you," Callyx spat.

The marksman was about to summon his pistol, but stopped when Ardyn sauntered over with an eerie smile plastered to his face. "Now, now. This squabble should be solved righteously."

The emerald-eyed spirit looked towards the chancellor. "The hell're you proposing?"

"A duel, to put it in simple terms."

Callyx scoffed. "You just want some entertainment."

"Do you not desire to settle this dispute, Callyx?" Ardyn questioned his guardian.

"Of course I do."

The chancellor casted his somewhat odd smile in (Y/n)'s direction. "Do you accept?"

Prompto turned around to face his girlfriend. "Why don't we just leave, (Y/n)? Let's forget about these guys."

"Couldn't agree more," Noctis spoke up.

(Y/n) thought for a few seconds before meeting Ardyn's gaze. "If I go through with this, what happens if I win?"

"You and your companions can be on your merry way without the fear of a target on your back. Of course, only for a short while. If you were to lose, I believe Callyx will deal with you personally," the auburn-haired man answered.

She scowled at him. "You're threatening me?"

"Of course not, my dear. I only believe it to be fair if my dearest friend were to win, he'd get to do what he pleases with you. If he so desires to see your demise, he may dispose of you."

"What?" Prompto gasped. "No way! We're leaving."

Ignis saw (Y/n) bite her bottom lip. He could tell she was tempted to accept the duel to get the empire off their back for the time being. "(Y/n), you need not entertain these men."

The (h/c)-haired spirit glanced over at the advisor. After a few seconds, she hung her head. "But if I can get the empire off our backs even just for a little bit..."

Ardyn stepped around Prompto, earning a glare from him, and held out his hand towards the girl. "Do you consent to the terms, my dear?"

(Y/n) glances at Callyx for a split second before placing her hand in the chancellor's. She saw the look of concern on Prompto's face, quickly averting her eyes. "I accept the duel."

"Then it's settled." Ardyn glances at his guardian. "Let us venture out, Callyx."

The three boys, (Y/n), and even Aranea follow Ardyn and Callyx. They trek a little ways away from the ruins and to a vast, open area. It was the perfect place for a fight. The two spirits faced each other while the others stood on the sideline. From her peripheral, (Y/n) could see Prompto nervously fidgeting where he stood.

Ardyn took his hat off and explained the one rule of the duel—no transforming. The two guardians were shocked at the rule, but they didn't argue.

(Y/n) and Callyx put some distance between them, summoning their weapons. Ardyn placed his hat back on his head as he signaled the start of the duel.

Callyx was the first to attack, blinded by his anger from their previous battle at Fort Vaullery. His sword was easily deflected by the Creator's Blade wielded by (Y/n). She easily shoves him back, eyes narrowing when she saw black horns protruding from his forehead. Because the man was unable to keep his emotions in check, his spiritual and human forms were clashing. It was also possible for both forms to collide if a spirit desired to enhance their human body without turning into a complete beast. She was positive his horns had sprouted due to both possibilities. Since he was not in his tiger form, it wasn't breaking the rule. "You're not good at controlling your emotions, are you? Or do you really think the only way you can beat me is by enhancing your body?"

"Shut the hell up," Callyx barked. "This time, I will be the victor no matter the cost."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, deciding not to entertain him with words. Instead, she continued to block his attacks. She watched his every move closely, noticing a pattern as the fight dragged on. His movements were becoming more sloppy because of his out-of-control emotions. Although she was exhausted from their journey through Steyliff Grove, she had no issues blocking and sidestepping.

At one point, she sidestepped and kneed Callyx in the gut. He fell to his knees with the wind knocked out of him, but she wasn't finished just yet. With a roundhouse kick, she kicked him in the face and sent him crumbling to the ground. As he fell, his blade slipped out of his hand. He gritted his teeth in pain, eyes beginning to glow. She took a few steps back and saw not only his eyes were glowing but jade stripes had appeared on his cheeks. "You really are desperate..."

Callyx got back to his feet, grabbing his sword with a click of his tongue. "Damn you...!" He held up his hand and sent a powerful bolt of lightning directly towards her. It hit her directly in the abdomen, sending her flying backwards. She groaned painfully as she was still feeling the small effects from the quetzalcoatl's spell.

Even with the potion Prompto gave her, she was still slightly frazzled from the beast's lightning spell. "I hate lightning spells," she huffed, pushing herself off the ground. Eyes returning to her opponent, she saw Callyx was readying another lightning spell. Having no other choice, she enhanced her body the moment he sent another powerful bolt of lightning towards her. Her many tails sprouted from her lower back and wrapped around her protectively, deflecting the spell. Unwinding her tails from around her, she glowered at the spiky-haired man as she created a large fire vortex around him.

(Y/n) was taken aback when Callyx leapt through the flames, unfazed by the fire or the heat. He patted out a few flames on his clothes before charging at her with his blade now infused with a lightning spell. The girl quickly raised the Creator's Blade and blocked the sword before it could be plunged into her chest. She struggled against him, his strength becoming overwhelming because of his enhancements. Without hesitating, she used her tails to swat him away like a fly.

The golden-eyed spirit, with her free hand, conjured a series of throwing knives made of pure flames. She tossed them, each one impaling Callyx's body. He screamed at the top of his lungs as the small knives pierced his body and burnt him. Some even pinned him to the ground.

With an exhausted huff, (Y/n) strolled over to the male guardian. She jammed the Creator's Blade into his left shoulder, eliciting another howl of pain from him. His horns and stripes vanished while his eyes ceased glowing. She squatted down beside him with an unamused expression. "I really should kill you, but I refuse to stoop to your level. You may be the enemy, but I won't kill my own people."

Callyx managed to grin through the immense pain he was suffering from. "You might want to change that philosophy of yours. This won't be over until either one or both of us are dead."

Refusing to entertain him any longer, (Y/n) withdrew the Creator's Blade from Callyx's shoulder. She turned to the others and saw their expressions. Aranea was amused, Noctis and Ignis were impressed, and Ardyn was still smiling even with Callyx heavily wounded. When she saw Prompto's expression, she knew he was going to be mad at her for accepting the duel. He was most likely going to give her the silent treatment for some time since he wasn't fond of losing his temper with others.

"I believe I'm the victor," (Y/n) said, locking eyes with Ardyn. Her tails vanished as she walked over to the others.

"Indeed, you are," the chancellor cackled. He took off his hat and bowed. "I am quite impressed by your strength. A well-earned victory."

"This means you're gonna leave us alone, right?" Noctis asked.

"For the time being, yes. Once we meet across the sea, however, those terms become annulled," he explained. The prince was about to retort, but Ardyn continued. "Commodore Highwind, please see these gentlemen and lady safely from here while I tend to my dear Callyx." The chancellor walked away after helping the male guardian.

Aranea watched the two vanish before smirking at (Y/n). "Damn, firefly. You're just full of surprises. If you weren't with these guys, I'd ask you to join me. We could kick some serious ass together." She placed a hand on her hip. "Now then, you're headed to Lestallum, right? I'll take you there, but no further."

"Got it," Noctis replied.

"So, ready to ship out?"

"You bet. Let's fly."

The group returns to the ruins where Aranea left her drop ship. Everyone was safely aboard and they departed from the Vesperpool. (Y/n) was talking to Noctis and Ignis about her recent duel with Callyx, complimenting her on her skills. During the conversation, her eyes drifted over to Prompto. He was sitting on the floor of the drop ship away from everyone else, scrolling through the pictures on his camera.

Excusing herself, she walked over to him even though she knew he was giving her the silent treatment. She sat beside him with a sigh and glanced down at the camera, seeing he was examining the pictures he took inside Steyliff Grove. "Wow, those are all amazing shots, Prom," she said even though she was aware of the lack of response she'd receive in return.

She leaned back against the wall of the drop ship and stared up at the ceiling. "You're angry and I understand completely. I know you're gonna give me the silent treatment for a while and I don't blame you. Even though I made you mad, I don't regret trying to protect you and the others. But..." A sorrowful frown blossomed on her face. "Please trust in me more, Prom. Trust that I can handle myself in battle, even against someone like Callyx. I know you want to protect me, but you can't protect me from everything." She got to her feet and walked away.

Prompto gripped his camera tighter. He lifted his head to say something, but stopped himself when his eyes landed on her retreating form. There was truth in her words, but he wanted to believe he could protect her from everything. He also wanted to deny her accusation of not trusting her enough, but his urge to protect her stopped him from trusting in her capabilities wholeheartedly.

He mentally cursed himself and her for their current emotional turmoil. Looking back down at his camera, he tried to think of something else while scrolling through pictures. Unfortunately, the pictures he's taken of (Y/n) were appearing more frequently and caused his emotions to become even more entangled. In the end, he turned off the camera and took a short nap.

<——————————————<<<<<

A few hours later, they arrived in Lestallum with the Regalia. Aranea told them of the trouble at the power plant and how she would be unable to help. The group took it upon themselves to help with the issue and thanked the ex-mercenary as they parted ways with her.

At the power plant, they meet with Holly. She gives Noctis a safety suit and he puts it on before walking through the gate. Prompto chuckled at the raven-haired boy. "Lovin' that outfit, Noct!"

"Why don't you wear one?" He retorted.

"Well, that's the only one. And if anyone stands a fighting chance in there, it's you. Forget about fashion and go," Ignis stated.

"(Y/n) could help."

"I think I'll leave this in your capable hands," the spirit snickered.

"Ugh..." Noctis headed into the power plant to meet up with the hunter that went ahead of him.

While waiting for him to return, (Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose with an exhausted sigh. She leaned against a large wooden crate when she felt a small dizzy spell wash over her. Prompto and Ignis noticed her state, but the strategist was the one to address her. "(Y/n), would you procure rooms for us at the Leville?"

She lifted her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You are clearly exhausted." Ignis handed her enough gil for two rooms.

"I could use a nap..." She took the money, thanking him. She glanced at Prompto and saw he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth and looked away. With a sorrowful sigh, she spun on her heels and headed to the hotel. She forked over the gil for two rooms and wandered upstairs to the single bed room. She thought about jumping into the soft mattress, but instead went to take a shower in the small bathroom attached to the room.

An hour passed while (Y/n) bathed. Most of the time while she was in the shower, she stood underneath the shower head and fell into deep thought. Her mind was filled with many thoughts, some good and some bad. An entire hour had passed before she knew it.

With a towel wrapped around her body, the spirit wandered out of the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the double bed, sighing heavily. Her (h/c) locks dripped as she hung her head. It wasn't long before the thoughts from the shower came back. She replayed what she said to Prompto inside Aranea's drop ship. A groan fell from her lips. "Why did I say that...?" She combed her hands through her damp tresses. "I could've just said nothing. He deserves to be angry," she mumbled to herself. Now thinking clearly, she came up with the decision to apologize to Prompto once he and the others returned from the power plant.

Standing up, (Y/n) walked over to the chair where she left her clothes. The moment she unwound the towel from around her body, the door to the room opened. Her eyes widened in horror, body petrified as Prompto walked into the room. She couldn't move an inch when the boy's eyes landed on her naked form. His cheeks turned a bright red and he swallowed hard, eyes raking over her exposed body. Realizing he was staring, he quickly turned around. "O-Oh, six...! I-I should've knocked! I-I didn't mean to, I swear!"

The girl, once being able to move again, quickly snatched up her towel and wrapped it back around her. "I-It's not your fault. I completely forgot to lock the door," she stated in a shaky voice. She hugged the towel against her body, her own cheeks turning red. "Gods, I should've taken my clothes to the bathroom with me..."

Prompto fidgeted with his fingers, cheeks set ablaze. He had no idea what to do with himself. He fidgeted nervously and stared down at the floor. His mind kept mentally showing him an image of his naked girlfriend. He scolded himself for thinking of dirty thoughts. To prevent an awkward silence from settling over them, he cleared his throat and changed the subject for both their sakes. "I-I came by to apologize. You were right..."

(Y/n) kept her back turned to him. "No, I was in the wrong. It was stupid of me to take on that ridiculous duel. I know I said it was to protect you and the others, but that just felt like an excuse. There was really no point, but I was blinded by my emotions. I wanted to give Callyx a piece of my mind and thought having the empire off our backs for a while would've been nice. I should've just ignored those bastards. I'm sorry, Prom." Her hands bunched up the hem of the towel just above her cleavage.

The moment (Y/n) built up enough courage to turn around, two arms wrapped around her from behind. She gasped in shock as her back came in contact with a warm chest. Her muscles tensed slightly before relaxing. Prompto's blonde hair tickled her cheek when he nuzzled his head against the side of hers. His nose brushed against her ear, causing her to shudder. She didn't move her hands away from her towel because it would fall again if she let go. She enjoyed his warmth even though she was embarrassed to be held in his arms with only a towel around her.

"What you said on the drop ship... You're right. I can't protect you from everything, but I'm gonna try my damndest to," Prompto whispered. "I know you can handle yourself in battle. It's just... I hate seeing you get hurt. I'm sorry for ignoring you, (Y/n)."

Her heart was a racing a mile a minute inside her chest. "It's okay, Prom." She lifted a hand and placed it on one of his arms that was wound around her shoulders. "With all that off our chests, c-can I please change?"

Prompto's eyes widen and he immediately backs away from her. "Y-Yeah, of course! I'll, um...I-I'll wait in the bathroom until you're done."

"You don't have to wait in the bathroom. Just turn around."

"I-I think the bathroom would be better..."

She turned around to face him with a puzzled expression. "What's the issue with just turning around?"

Prompto rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from her. "I d-don't trust myself to not take another peek..."

The girl giggled at his honesty. "Then you best head to the bathroom."

He nodded and dashed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto x reader #prompto argentum #prompto argentum x reader

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #348

“nothing will be free / nothing will be done / black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''blackout'' by 3teeth

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luvbotclub · 4 years

Photo

stay — part one: mark lee.

it’s not me, it’s you— you had a change of heart. what kind of change of heart was that and why didn’t feel it? or in which mark doubts himself as an idol, a boyfriend, and a person.

content warning for angst, i’m sorry markzens. 4,867 words.

this can be read as x reader or x oc since i didn’t give mark’s girlfriend a name (this applies to the other parts as well). the other parts may be a little delayed since i’m working on some other fics as well, but i’ll try my best to finish this series! i hope you will enjoy reading this one :D

the sun was shining outside his window. the sunlight seeped through his silk curtains, and for some reason, mark lee didn't feel like sliding them aside and welcoming the april warmth with open arms today, or any other day to be honest. he didn't bother getting up and cooking himself some delicious breakfast, nor did he get up and at least fix his appearance a little bit. he was so disheartened to do anything ever since she left.

but mark has been feeling less like... well, mark nowadays, so there was no question as to why he was acting the way he is. but who could blame him? almost five months has passed and he has made close to no progress with moving on from her. her departure and the demise of them has impacted mark in the worst ways there is to exist.

mark has managed to go out with taeyong and jaehyun for some coffee two days prior to this unfortunate saturday morning without somehow making everyone around him feel burdened by his troubled presence.

mark hated that feeling the most ㅡ the feeling that he’s slowly becoming a burden to the people around him. and perhaps he is, indeed, starting to become a burden to the people around him.

he's tried. he's tried so hard. but it hurts, so so much. the feeling of her warm embrace and the sound of her laugh and the way she smiles are all fucking imprinted in his mind. there was no escape from her torturous murder. the poison she uses is cutting into his skin… slowly, leaving a trail of rotten memories behind.

maybe if she hadn't left him so harshly, mark would've dealt with her farewell a lot better than he is doing right now. maybe, just maybe, if she hadn't been so cruel enough to just tell him straight in the face that it's not me, it's you, you had a change of heart; mark would've forgiven himself faster. his chest would have been filled with something other than guilt and confusion to what he's done wrong, why did she leave, who made her leave, what kind of fucking change of heart was that and why in fuck's name didn't he feel it.

mark has tried to spend more time with her. he really did try, but success came for his group faster than nct and sm entertainment had expected, and he trained longer in the practice room for six days per week for their tour and comeback to make a bigger impact than before. but, in the end, when he's back in their shared apartment, it feels like everything he did wasn't enough. the awards he won, the effort he put into dancing, each lyric he sings out every blurred, sweaty night just for millions to hear. they weren't enough to make her smile reach her eyes. they weren't enough to make her satisfied with him.

they weren't enough for her to stay.

sometimes, mark would think. maybe he's really the one to the blame. maybe he should have just taken more breaks and spent more time with her ― cook lunch with her, cuddle with her on the couch, give her massages while she ranted and ranted about the rude customers at her workplace, the marais. maybe, instead of sweating and singing his heart out, he could have stayed home. maybe he should have been a better boyfriend. maybe he wasn't good enough.

for the past few days, mark's mind has been filled with maybe's and what if's and i'm never going to be good enough's. it was strange. he felt all this remorse ― he even blamed himself because he was doing what he had been wanting to do for a long time ― and all this confusion because of a girl who has sent his friends snapchats of her playing just dance with her workmates a day after she said goodbye, because of a girl who left him on a living room floor with a heart that fell into pieces and the echoes of his pleas for her to please stay with me in each corner of the room ㅡ haunting him, crawling to his skin like the remnants of a bad dream.

it was selfish for mark to think, nor to say aloud, but a despicable part of him wished she felt somewhat guilty for leaving him behind in the dust like this ㅡ or even be concerned about his well being. but no. she left in the first place without a care ㅡ why would she care about whatever’s happening in mark’s mind, now that she has a great life without an idol boyfriend who's always dragging her down?

but today. today. it felt like the day to start living his life again, to live like mark lee who could make people smile just by the sound of his laugh alone. he's disappeared for exactly two weeks from television appearances, family dinners, and friendly get-togethers ㅡ even company parties, he couldn't attend. he was in the stage of denial in the first week, like he was mourning over a death of a loved one. fans have left comments, questions as to why he disappeared all of a sudden all over nct’s twitter and instagram pages and they’ve started to worry whether mark was doing okay or not. his family grew concerned for his well-being, so did his fellow members. they sent him food with stupid little hearts taped to the lunchbox (taeil once sent him naengmyun, along with a paper heart with a classy dad joke and his well wishes scribbled on it). they sent him encouraging messages almost everyday ― the fans, his family, his fellow members. they're all there for him, because they knew that mark isn't okay.

mark decided to get up from his bed an hour after he finished the piece of toast and cup of coffee he both made in a haste. he didn’t even bother putting anything along with the toast, and it was burnt. everyday, his breakfast gets worse. but he needed to put something in his stomach ― he's not going to be in this state forever and he still needed to take care of himself.

mark's grip on the plate was tight, knuckles white as he rested the ceramic plate on the sink. he turned his head after washing his hands and saw the shoe and coat rack by the front door. it was strange to see her newly bought pair of nikes and her ivory coat gone from the racks ― they were her least favoured articles of clothing. maybe she could have left them with him, so he could have something that reminds him of her presence.

but, no. that's way too cruel, isn't it? she did mark a favour of not leaving a single trace of her behind, even as little as a speck of dust from her belongings or a smear of her red lipstick on his favourite white mug. she knew she was practically death itself to him ― her name a lethal spoken curse, her scent a guilty pleasure, her voice a melody so deadly. to love her will be a death wish, but he feels and loves her without a single trace of fear that it'd harm him one day. he loves her. every inch, every night spent watching stupid random shows in the tv, every kiss, every parent joke they've cracked together. he misses them. he misses her. and sometimes he didn't even care if it were his fault or hers ― because either way, she'll still leave an empty shell in his chest, a shell that longed to be filled with her love again.

mark lee never thought it was possible for his heart to ache for someone so much.

he closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh, wanting nothing more than to scream out his frustrations and drink some good fucking coffee right now. but the coffee maker was broken, and mark didn't feel like going out to town and buying a new one. it might sound like it was a stupid reason and he knew perfectly well of the fact, but he doesn't want everyone to see him like this... whatever he is right now.

is he even human at this point? he feels like someone ripped half of his body and soul and he just feels the opposite of the caring mark everybody adored. he feels like he doesn't even have a heart beating right now as his eyes are closed to the darkness — just an empty chest and an empty head.

mark wants to be somewhere else other than this damn apartment. it was way too depressing and he finally got sick of being burdened by it all — it was way too exhausting to be so burdened all the time, to have your head weighed down by thoughts of what could have happened. maybe he can go to a clear field with a nice, baby blue sky, or the coffee house in town where soft jazz played. he didn’t even like jazz. maybe anywhere, just to get away from this place. even the recording studio sounded inviting right now.

the roar of mark's ringtone ripped through the silent room, and it took him a few seconds to recover from the small jumpscare he got before he grabbed his phone that was in his sweatshirt pocket. mental note: put your phone in silent mode next time.

it was a text from jeno.

[jeno]: hi hyung. you up for coffee later with jaemin later? XD

mark suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the emoticon. jeno could be really ridiculous (and cringy) sometimes, yet he couldn’t ignore the letters that were practically glowing at his eyes, screaming for his reply to be fuck yes i am up for this, but as mark was somewhat in mid reply (and it was an awfully nonchalant yeah, sure with no stupid emoji to support his message), his fingers stopped typing.

would it be worth it, though? he doesn't even have the mental energy to go out and buy his own food, let alone go out for coffee (even though he's succeeded once...). a small part of him felt bad for jeno. all the boy wanted was to drink coffee with his members, but mark's fucking sadness is stopping him. it's not even jeno's fault mark turned out like this these past few weeks.

after a few seconds of contemplating, mark continued typing his message, feeling a little afraid of making jeno think he was uninterested.

[me]: yeah, sure. 😃 can you pick me up?

he tapped the send button, instantly regretting that he added the smiling emoji at the end (because now he sounds so enthusiastic to go, even if a part of him really did) and the fact that he just asked his friend to do him yet another favour. mark felt bad for jeno, he really did, but he didn't even know where the coffee shop was, and, knowing mark, he gets lost sometimes because the boy had no sense of direction whatsoever. jeno's response came a few seconds after, which amazed mark for a bit since jeno was never the fastest replier.

[jeno]: geez, hyung 😒

[jeno]: i'll be there around 1, jaem had to run some errands so he’ll be a lil late. see you later!!!

feeling relieved jeno didn't pry any more into the subject, mark locked his phone and put in his sweatshirt pocket. he felt more fresh, somehow, he felt like his steps won't be heavy and that his life will actually improve today. like an imaginary weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. maybe he should treat jeno and jaemin with lunch one day, if the day went well.

after a few hours of sitting in the sofa and listening to a bunch of songs taeyong has sent him over the past few days, mark went to take a nice, warm shower and changed into his “outside” clothes (...which were the same as his stay-in clothes) and waited for jeno and jaemin outside his locked home, foot tapping on the pavement out of habit.

as promised through his text, jeno arrived at mark's place at the same time when the clock in mark's phone read 1:00 pm. mark felt like grabbing jeno and giving him the biggest hug he's ever given to another member once he jumped off of the black van he arrived in ㅡ the boy's done so much for him ㅡ sending lunchboxes, agreeing to meet up with him in 3am nights where mark couldn't sleep at all, and, now, agreeing to pick mark up right on time even if he probably had million of things going through his mind right now, with nct dream's comeback slowly approaching them.

“hey, hyung,” greeted jeno, brown hair swept to the side messily. after a very long time, there was a genuine smile on mark's lips ㅡ he was happy to see a familiar face in the midst of this chaos. “you ready to go?”

mark gave the younger man a nod, and pocketed his phone in his pants.

a few minutes of catching up led them to full time story-telling, which is totally typical of the parent-like pair of friends. mark was smiling the whole time, because, again, he was with a familiar face and he hadn't been able to speak his mind to another person for a few days, constantly insecure of what others would think of him and his thoughts.

they were overcome with surprise when the driver pulled up on the pavement since they were too caught up in their conversation to pay attention to their surroundings, signalling that they've arrived in the said café. it seemed like the other cafés he's visited before. it had treats and specials lined up by the baby blue tinted window, ranging from strawberry cream puffs to the manager's favourite mushroom pizza. mark looked at the café’s exterior in astonishment and glanced back at jeno. jeno had good taste.

mark looked at the café one more time. he still had a few moments before they went inside; jeno was taking too damn well to adjust his facemask. it was perfect ㅡ black tables at the patio with white chairs as a contrast, fancy little plants lined up just by the café's entrance.

it was all fun until his eyes darted over to the shop's logo, etched in a fancy script font and a mighty golden colour. the light in mark's eyes faltered and the smile plastered on his face dropped in desultory, as the letters made his throat go dry.

the marais.

singing is a stupid thing now. he doesn't feel like singing a bunch of twisted words just for millions to hear. no. he doesn't feel like doing anything. getting scolded at for not singing a note properly is getting tiresome. constantly redoing certain parts because the producer didn’t like it is getting tiresome. thinking of her at any given opportunity is getting tiresome. doing this, whatever it is... it's tiresome.

“i hope you’re happy today,” came the soft muse of donghyuck through his headset. it was strange that mark felt something strong snap in his chest just because of these words. they were going through the songs in the album and mark didn’t know why he was even required to be here for that — he wasn’t even in make your day.

when he heard his dongsaeng’s verse, he felt like crying again. he’s gotten so bad — this was just all so fucking tiring. all he can think about is the way she looked that day in the café, stunned to see the two tall idols in her sight and soon seeing jaemin rush into the shop without much care if he was causing a ruckus or not. she didn’t think that she would see him ever again, thinking that she’s ran away from all of that, the exhausting world of mark lee and being constantly shoved to the side.

“i'm ― i'm sorry," his voice is weak. the words were strained coming out of his throat. he couldn't breathe, but he had to do this. “i can’t do this. not today, no.”

am i really doing this?

mark's heart skipped a beat. yes.

he removed his headset quickly, the song cutting off just as jaehyun’s part began. mark grabbed his cap and mask from the table and put them on. he felt no feeling of hesitation or remorse from his actions as he stared at the producer and members, all staring back at him and obviously stunned. mark shook his head and turned his back on them, ignoring donghyuck’s tired and annoyed stare burning at the back of his head. he really tried to be okay for one day, but he can't do that. the closure she gave wasn't enough — well, was there ever any closure in the first place? he had to give his own closure, or else he'll explode from all these feelings burning his insides with guilt that he didn't even have to feel in the first place if he just became a better boyfriend, a better person.

“mark, come back here,” taeyong’s tired drawl came, echoing through the halls. mark stopped walking but didn’t face his hyung. “you’re really going to skip a recording just for a girl who doesn’t even want to see you anymore?”

taeyong’s words stung, but mark swallowed and gave a firm, “yes.”

as he walked down the hallways and ignoring the incredulous burning stares of the crew, wondering why the hell he was out in the hall instead of being in the recording studio like his schedule declared so, mark thought of all the things he'll say. they need to make sense or else skipping a recording session will all be for nothing and the scolding from taeyong would make him feel even guiltier for the rest of his entire life. i love you, you heartless prick. no. that's way too blunt. i love you, and i don’t need you to say the same thing. i just want you to say goodbye one last time.

that’s all mark ever wanted.

that’s all mark ever needed.

he called a taxi and immediately got in, telling the driver his destination which was the marais. a frown was evident on the young idol's face as his phone vibrated text message after text message, all either from taeyong or taeil telling him he has the next two hours to get his ass back to the studio or else they were telling the ceo about it. it was tiring. he was debating whether to ignore them or reason it out like the adult he was, because he was feeling annoyed at their lack of understanding and at the same time he just wanted to be mature with them.

both of mark’s options sounded too far out of his reach when the taxi driver suddenly stopped his car and told him they were already at his destination, and he was forced to lock his phone instead, ignoring the constant vibration of the device.

he started shaking as he gave the driver money, and his hands became sweaty when he exited out of the car and slammed the door shut. mark walked over to the café with a heavy heart, his legs wanting nothing more than to retreat to the studio and spare his ego the embarrassment, but he was here now. there was no point in turning back. he’d embarrass himself anyways if he came back to the studio, he could practically hear donghyuck cheekily saying “i told you so” and the small knowing smirk on the younger’s face. mark shuddered at the thought.

as he went through the door of the shop, he instantly got a whiff of the strong coffee they were brewing — their bestseller and the same coffee she used to bring home for mark to drink. the boy only swallowed the fear in his throat and shook the memories off.

he walked up to the counter, legs still shaky as the employee working the cashier looked at him with a bright smile, “um, hi. i’m looking for someone who works here? is—”

“mark?”

mark looked up at the sudden voice, his words cut off halfway. if his heart was already beating fast even before he'd seen her, mark was pretty sure it’d jump right out of his chest as he made eye contact with the woman who got him into this predicament in the first place. he exhaled heavily and bowed his head to the employee behind the cashier, apologizing for the interruption before walking over to her who was standing just by the kitchen door and dressed in the white coat she hated so much. the sight made mark want to go home for some reason.

“what are you doing here?” she laughed nervously as he came closer. “aren’t you busy? i heard you guys are having a comeback?”

mark shook his head, ignoring the urge inside of him to tell her i skipped a recording for you. he knew it wouldn't matter to her anyways. “i’m not busy at all. i just want to talk to you about something. is that okay?”

she nodded yet the look in her eyes clearly said she really didn’t want anything to do with him at all. “sure, do you want to step out for a bit?”

mark only noticed the stares of the customers at the pair of them when she glanced around the room, and he immediately nodded. the last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him and spread rumours (even though he knew that was practically unavoidable at this point—people were already starting to point). she took hold of his hand and led him out of the coffee shop, ignoring the incredulous whispers of everyone.

once they were outside, mark was the first to pull his hand away from her grasp in such a haste. he almost apologized when he saw the brief shock emerge in her face at the brash action, but at this point, he didn’t have time for games anymore — figuratively and quite literally, since he only had an hour left before taeyong and taeil will call the ceo on him.

“so what is it that you want to talk about?”

“i wanted to talk about us,” mark exhaled, finally feeling a weight being lifted off of his shoulders. he saw her face contort a little, obviously displeased at the topic. “i just — you gave your closure. but i didn’t.”

“mark, it’s been months,” she laughed, the sound coming out as breathless. “you still haven’t moved on?”

“how could i do that?” mark started laughing too, albeit humorlessly. he ignored the pang in his chest as he realized that she found the entire situation funny. “everything i see, everyone i talk to. everything reminds me of you. i can’t even do anything right, i can’t even live normally anymore, because i keep thinking, why? why did she break up with me? was i a bad boyfriend?”

“mark— no,” the smile on her face dropped. “you weren’t a bad boyfriend. i just—”

“then why did you tell me i had a change of heart?!” mark was enraged. he didn’t want to be angry. he didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. he didn’t mean to let his tears cascade down his cheeks. he probably looked so pathetic right now, practically seething at the image of himself, tears falling and eyes pleading for an answer, for anything. “i didn’t. i didn’t have a change of heart. if i did then i would have been the one who ended things. if i was such a good boyfriend, then why did you leave me? right when i needed you most?”

mark didn’t even let her open her mouth before he spoke up again, the pain in his voice raw. “i tried so hard. i’ve always tried so hard but you made me feel like i didn’t. i’ve always protected you from everything and everyone. i’ve always defended you. you made me feel like everything i’ve ever done, for myself, for you — they weren’t enough for you. i always thought that maybe i wasn’t good enough to make you stay. i guess i was right, wasn’t i?”

“i was scared,” she answered calmly. “i fell out of love with you and i didn’t want to admit that. it was my fault. all of it. i only said that so i wouldn’t feel terrible about leaving you but i didn’t realize it was too harsh of me to say that right away. i’m sorry, mark, for everything. please stop blaming yourself.”

mark only nodded, wiping at the tears that were on his cheeks and blinking away the ones that threatened to fall. he got what he wanted. he got the truth. he gave his closure. so why did it still hurt? why did it still pain him to see her, looking at him like he was the saddest, most pathetic person to ever exist? the pitiful stare she was giving him made mark feel so sick in the stomach that he had to look away so that the feeling won’t resurface.

“just know,” mark breathed out shakily, fingers trembling and aching to brush the stray hair that fell on her face aside. he bit the inside of his cheek to stop the urge until he tasted blood. “i still love you and i don’t think that will ever change. even if you hurt me. even if you broke my heart so bad to the point that i didn’t know if i’ll be fine by the end of it all. you became a part of my life no matter how bad it got in the end.”

“i love you too, mark,” she smiled warmly and mark knew she was lying straight to his face right now. but he didn’t care. it felt good, strange almost, to hear those words tumble out of her lips again. “i don’t want to leave you like this but i have to go now. i made some plans with a friend. maybe we can hang out together soon? i can call you?”

“it’s okay,” mark shook his head. “i’ll be busy anyways. enjoy your day. thank you for everything.”

he was pretty sure his friends had already deleted her number from his contacts (it was either johnny or donghyuck who did it). after this, he was going to back to the studio and suffer the consequences of his actions, he’d have to put up with the hyung line staring at him with disappointed glints in their eyes during the entirety of the car ride back home and donghyuck bombarding him with questions about what happened once the younger boy has cornered him somewhere in the dorm. but he wasn’t bothered or even annoyed that he’d be experiencing these things soon.

mark was about to turn away and find a taxi when a tall man approached them, his long arms soon snaking around her shoulder and pulling her into an embrace. mark was quite surprised but shook his head — he was going to stop caring about her from now on. whatever business this man had to do with her, he didn’t care.

“who’s this, babe?” the nickname caught mark off guard.

“hyunwoo,” she mumbled under her breath, obviously uncomfortable at the current situation. “this is mark. remember? i told you about him.”

“oh, the idol?” ‘hyunwoo’ turned his head to mark and the shorter boy nodded. “nice to meet you! i heard you’re quite acquainted with my girlfriend here. she told me a lot about you.”

“oh, girlfriend?” mark was surprised at the cool tone of his question. “well, yeah. i used to be quite close with her.”

“we’re not dating or anything,” she tried to laugh off, but the nervous glint in her eyes screamed otherwise. “i’m just friends with hyunwoo. it’s like what it looks like, mark—”

“it’s okay,” mark smiled warmly, looking at her then back at hyunwoo. “i don’t care who you date. it’s not like you owe me an explanation of any sort.”

“i—yeah, of course,” she mumbled to herself, looking down at the ground before looking back up at mark. “it was nice talking to you. we’ll get going now. keep in touch, okay?”

mark nodded and the warm smile on his face didn’t falter even for a second. after the two had walked away, mark stayed in the same spot. he didn’t miss the way the two shared a short kiss before hyunwoo opened the car door for her and helped her inside before hopping in the driver’s seat and driving away. once they were gone, mark’s phone began ringing, calls from taeyong flooding his missed calls.

mark only smiled to himself, pressing the call button on taeyong’s number while his eyes were still fixated on the spot where hyunwoo’s car was previously parked.

i’ll forget about you, someday.

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark lee prompt #mark lee angst #nct imagines #nct prompt #nct angst #nct #nct series #( writings )#out of all the parts i think mark's is the least sad #but it's still sad nonetheless

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movie-robotnik-positivity · 4 years

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youtube

Everything Wrong with: Everything Wrong with Sonic the hedgehog 2020

Disclaimer: I am well aware that those types of videos are satire and made for entertainment. This post has the very same purpose and I have nothing against this person. Don’t send hate his way.

I’m not going to argue with EVERY sin, just the ones I feel make no sense or can be easily explained, ignoring stuff that are clearly bad jokes disguised as sins.

Therefore, I encourage you to watch the video for yourself, and add whatever point or opinion you want. I love seeing people comment on my stuff!

0:58 And until the end of the movie, there will be no explanation or even a hint of where he got such power. Aren’t movies like this made to fully reveal a character?

And that’s exactly what the movie does, it introduces Sonic’s character and the world really well! There’s nothing wrong with leaving stuff open to explore later on in the (let’s face it) inevitable sequel.

1:51 Power of plot bought the sheriff to this place and the same power of plot allows him to pay attention to a tiny blue thing amongst these grass

Sorry to break this to you but stories are based on convenience. Almost everything that happens in a movie exists with the sole purpose of moving the plot forward. A shocking revelation, I know!

2:33 By the way, if these rings can lead Sonic anywhere, again the question arises, why did he not explored this world and other worlds? It’s still not clear why he��s stuck in this village.

Longclaw, on her dying breath, sent Sonic there to hide, he’s not going to leave earth until he absolutely has to. Also it’s either that or mushroomland

Also he’s not “stuck in this village” he loves Green Hills! It’s his favourite place in the world. It would also be risky to go to a different place, he’s safer in there.

3:16 Farting joke! This is absolutely necessary. We don’t know about other jokes to make children laugh, yeaaaah!

I personally barely consider that moment on the baseball scene a fart joke, but still, you know the movie has other jokes and it’s not just that, right?

3:21 The whole meeting can be described as “Hey, dudes, there’s something knocked power out, let’s send someone to find out, okay, who do we send? Him? No he’s crazy, yes, no, no, but this is written in the script, oh, okay then, we’ll send exactly him” Stupid goverment.

The meeting scene exists to explain WHY they send Robotnik. They go over every possible explanation as to why the blackout happened and nothing adds up, so without any other options other than a terrorist attack, they send him.

Yes, they know Robotnik is crazy and nobody likes him, but he’s the smartest man in the world, who understands technology better than anyone and has never failed before. It’s a last resort.

3:54 Oh come on dude, you have time to transfer to the world of mushrooms, and people will not dare to go there. But nooo! This is not the end of the movie.

4:20 Why does Tom being on the side of the law risks becoming a criminal because of some alien? That’s weird

He’s a HEDGEHOG thank you very much Tom wants more than anything to be able to help someone in real danger, when the chance comes he begrudgingly accepts.

Also him punching the madman who was about to shoot him when he got the chance was more of an act of self defense than anything.

4:39 What the hell? Why did it become furry? So it’s not needless at all? What the fuck?

Sonic has fur with quills in them. They’re pretty visible.

5:19 About slowmo, if Sonic has a speed close to the speed of light, then on the contrary everything would accelerate around him, and most likely everything would have burnt at that speed, and he would have lost mass

There are a few sins that claim that several things don’t make sense because Sonic’s speed is close to the speed of light. The problem is that he’s pulling this fact out of nowhere, it was NEVER stablished that he can run anywhere close to the speed of light.

5:45 Oh yeah and these two bro are free to go to San Francisco and they’re free to stay in motels.

There are also a lot of sings that consist of “WHY DOESN’T THIS PERSON RECONIZE TOM IS A CRIMINAL AND STOP HIM” as if everyone in the world would know about it.

Hell, as far as we know, the news about Tom being a wanted man didn’t reach the public until he saw them in the news.

6:10 Oh yeah, for the final battle with Sonic, the writers threw the needle with endless energy. It is necessary to level the powers of the opponents

Uuuhh....yes? Why is this a sin again?

6:37 The criminal’s wife quickly agrees to help him in everything, probably read the script in advance and therefore helps him

I see you’re ignoring the implication that when we cut back to Tom and Maddie he had just finished explaining the situation to her. They’re married, she understands why Tom would risk himself to save Sonic and wants to help.

9:52 After a couple of snotty words, Tom still decides to stay in this village

Sure, if you want to be reductive like that. the fuck you have against Green Hills?

10:05 The hell I watched right now? Why the fuck did the stupid goverment send Dr. Robotnik to catch Sonic? Tom and his wife should have been in prision, and the search for Sonic should have resumed! But instead this dude brings for this lovebirds gratitude and just asks them to forget about everything. The end!

Okay....

The goverment wants to make sure that there are no records of Robotnik’s existence, likely because of the collateral damage he caused and the many lives he endangered. They have the decency to leave the Wachowskis alone since they are to blame for the situation.

Besides, Tom’s crime was threatening and assaulting a goverment official, but how can you threaten someone that never existed?

AND WE’RE DONE!!! That was an absolute waste of my time, but if there’s something I have to spare is time, so I guess it’s fine.

#sonic movie #sonic the hedgehog

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angelinwhy · 5 years

Text

Almost in Love

Description: after a couple of weeks debating, on a warm Californian night, Y/N was ready to reveal to Harry that she was slowly falling in love with him.

Y/N wasn’t one to sit and just dwell on her thoughts as she let the world pass her by, or let herself fall into a world where she could be herself. Where she could make up her own scenarios and pretend like they are real, and that they exist in the real world - like a child playing with their dolls, or doodling something that is a figurative of their extraordinary imagination. She wasn’t a daydreamer by a long shot, she was merely even a dreamer, but could make the odd exception.

The born and raised Londoner had a pretty standard life, par from the fact that she liked to do a little bit of singing from time to time. Her life had been nothing short of boring when she grew up. Y/N’s family had forced her to take piano lessons (yes she was part of one of those families) and was sent to private school, as that’s where her parents believed she’d get the best education. So, like any child who was raised in a household like that, most believed that she was a stuck up snob, who only cared about herself. Oh how they were so wrong about that. She is naturally just a quiet person, very reserved and would rather sit at home baking or watching a movie, than going out to a party like most of her friends did.

A complete opposite of her boyfriend, Harry, then.

It was a warm February morning, when they had met for the first time, and the two of them hit it off almost instantly. Back in London, she had been playing the piano in a tube station, that had been left purely for the people’s entertainment, and Harry had happened to be waiting for one of the trains to come. And when he heard the amazing sounds of the piano, it was like all he knew and all of his plans had left the window. Or better yet, been carried away by the train, as he had missed it to stop and listen to Y/N play. Once she was done, he had mentioned how in awe he was of her, and she had just blushed and thanked him. Harry had never heard the piano being played so beautifully in all of his life, and better yet, he had never seen a woman so beautiful in all of his life either. Her nose a bit red from a cold, yet, he found her completely breathtaking all the same. Though, he wasn’t going to say that to her face. He didn’t know her right then.

Not wanting her to slip away from him, as he wanted to know more about the mysterious piano player, he had asked her out for coffee at his favourite little cafe down in Soho. They sat at a table in the corner, in their own little bubble, and got to know each other over a flat white and a hot chocolate. Harry hated to admit it, because he had only just met her, but he had found her completely infatuating. From the way she spoke so effortlessly about her life, to how she winced when her got chocolate burnt her tongue, as she had tried to drink it before it had cooled slightly. He never let himself fall so easily, plus they had only met that morning, yet there was something about her that made him way to stick around with her for the rest of the day. But, he was already late, so he had left her, but not before putting his number in to her phone, so they could arrange to meet up again.

From then it went to little meet-ups in cafes, to the two of them chilling at each other’s houses. Harry had told her about his profession, as it was better for her to find out sooner instead of later, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much, and she loved that he sung. She had made him sing one of his songs for her, and after going through the track list for ‘Harry Styles’, and Harry telling her what the song was like, she had picked From the Dining Table. She was in awe of his voice, and it all made sense - perfect voice to match an even more perfect man.

A couple of months later, and it may seem quick to some, the two of them had started dating. It was a mutual thing, them both falling head over heels fast, and just wanting to be around each other all the time. The paparazzi and media had an absolute field day, the day where they were spotted in Kensington. All of the pictures got out online, and fans speculated pretty quickly, and that scared Y/N because they are so overprotective of Harry, but they had settled down once they realised Harry had found someone good for him. And that’s all they wanted for him. They were both extremely happy, being with each other. All of the little kisses they shared when no one was looking at them, Harry’s snide, sexual comments that still make Y/N go bright red in the face, and the way she would play the piano as he sang along to the sound. It was a complete match made in heaven.

Now, 7 months down the line and their relationship had only gotten stronger.

The two of them were now in Harry’s residence in California, and had been for a couple of days. He had been busy filming with James for the Late Late Show and doing an interview with Zane. And whilst doing all of that, Y/N had been scratching about on her own, with her own thoughts.

She sits on one the benches outside, her elbows on the table next to it so she can keep herself steady as she stares out onto the gorgeous view in front of her. It was slowly getting darker, and the sky had gone an amazing mix of purple and orange, which was a nice contrast against the inviting sea, where waves rolled. Y/N had been sitting out here alone for a while now, as Harry was inside napping due to his busy day, so she had been trying to write out her thoughts down onto paper. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a lot on her mind and when alone, she had to let those thoughts in before she went bonkers.

And the main thought was : am I in love with Harry?

It had been on her mind for about a week now, and it seemed to be the only thing that her bloody mind was able to focus on, even though there was so many exciting things going on around her. She knew that he had caught her in a deep daydream as she dwells on that really scary thought, and when asked what’s wrong, she just merely brushes it off and tells Harry that she’s fine. But love to her, was this huge, scary thing that could completely take over your life, and it was hard for her to think about the fact that she might be in love with Harry. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to love him, because just thinking about how it would all be when she is excites her, it’s the more the fact that she’s never been in love before.

Love was never something she thought about, until she met Harry. Sure, she had seen movies such as The Notebook (only because of Harry), and loved the way it was portrayed, but to her it set unreal standards about what love is actually like. Most girls who are young, and quite possibly naive, will grow up thinking that boys will fall at their feet and basically beg them to be in love with them. But she had learnt that the hard way. No boys had ever shown interest in her, they always cared more for her friends who, to Y/N at least, were much prettier and funnier than she was. That’s what she thought anyways. Her two older siblings were also very lucky when it came to being in relationships, and it always made Y/N wonder if there was something wrong with me. It was just her way of putting herself down, as someone was yet to tell her that she was good enough and deserved better.

She was scared to be in love with Harry, because what if it isn’t what she was expecting?

“Fucks sake,” she mumbles in annoyance as she tears out the page in her book, yet another letter that had been screwed up because she couldn’t think of the right words to say. It wasn’t like anyone was going to read the letters, but she feels like she owes it to herself to find a way to get her feelings out.

As she goes to flip over the page, a hand reaches over her shoulder and grabs a grape from the bowl of fruit, that she had set out as a snack. She tilts her head back, to see Harry standing above her as he eats the slightly sour fruit. He leans down and pecks her forehead, holding the sides of her head with his large and ring clad hands. “Y’alright, my love?” She would never get tired of the endless amount of pet names that he had for her, and the way he says them all. Y/N nods her head as he takes a seat in front of her, his hands resting in his lap.

“You feel better after your nap?” She asks softly as she gathers up the screwed up balls of paper.

“Yeah,” Harry nods as he stretches. “Probably won’t go down as easy tonight, so if I’m not in bed during the night then don’t be worried. I’ll more than likely be in the living room watching the TV or something.”

A habit resurfaces, as Y/N reaches out and grabs one of Harry’s hands, pulling it closer to her so she can play with the beautiful rings that were on his fingers. Her eyes admire the beautiful blue and pink that had been painted on his nails, and her heart gets happy when she remembers that they’re the colours of Fine Line. Harry watches her gently, his eyes soft as he takes in her actions, and she twiddles the rings on his fingers, playing with them and just admiring them all together. It was something she did when she didn’t have much to say, or was trying to distract herself from certain situations. This was something Harry had noticed earlier on in their relationship, when they had been out for a meal and the fans swarmed them, and she had got nervous. Right away, she had went for his hand to play with the rings to calm herself.

Harry knew that there was something up with her, as he could pratically read her like a book. To most their relationship was still pretty fresh and knew, but a lot of the time, Harry likes to think that he knows Y/N a lot better than she thinks he does.

“What’s with all the paper?” He asks, nodding his head at the pad, and all of the screwed up balls.

Y/N chuckles softly as she looks at them, her hands still playing with Harry’s rings. He did love that about her. She almost felt pathetic, telling Harry why she had the notebook out and why it looked like a scene out of Horrid Henry where he couldn’t do his work properly, so he screwed up the paper. “I thought that because you’ve been out a lot, it would be good for me to take some time to myself to kind of figure out some things that are going on in my head, that being said, writing out thoughts was like my first idea of how to vocalise how I’m feeling. Turns out, it isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be, it doesn’t flow naturally. It just comes out as a hot mess, if I’m being completely honest,” she laughs it off, feeling stupid.

“What’s been on your mind?” He simply asks.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders as she looks at him, “this and that. It isn’t much to worry about though.”

“You can talk to me, Y/N, y’know?”

As her fingers still mess about with his rings, she looks at him through her eyelashes, trying to distract herself and divert her mind so she didn’t have to speak to Harry about what was going on with her, as she was worried that a talk about love would scare him off. Although she was battling her own thoughts about whether she was in love with Harry or not, she would also worried about he would take it when the time came for them to say those three meaningful words. Y/N was more scared of the rejection, that he would tell her that he doesn’t love her.

But, what she didn’t know, was that Harry was in love with her already, she just didn’t have a clue because she wasn’t able to recognise the signs. Harry wasn’t one to love easily, it took him time because he had to look for the warning signs before letting himself fall all in a girl. There was no warning signs with Y/N, it was as simple as that. In an interview, when he was asked about to knowing when you had met the right one for you, his response was ‘when you know, you know’. And that’s how it was with Y/N. Ever since he had met her, Harry has had this gut feeling that she’s the one he is meant to be with, that she is the one he will spend the rest of his life with. He had never felt so strongly about someone before, and him falling in love with her so quickly was proving his point that she was the one for him. She’s the one he’s going to keep around. She’s the one who he’s in love with.

It had all started a month ago when they were back at her little, yet cosy apartment in London where the two of them spent the most of their time. She has a grand piano, and they had decided to sit on the bench together and play. Well, she would play and he would sing along, and their song of choice was Ruth B’s ‘Don’t Dissapoint Me’. A beautiful song about being in love, but not wanting to be let down by your other half, in case the feeling of love wasn’t mutual on their part, so you had to make sure they weren’t going to disappoint you. She had played and despite not knowing all of the words off by heart, Harry sang along.

Then, for a split second he stopped singing and she carried on playing. It was like a scene out of a movie when he turned to look at her, and she glanced at him with a huge smile on his face. That’s when he had realised that he was in love with her, and although it was pretty scary for him, he was ready to take the plunge, no matter how deep the water was.

“Y/N?”

She snaps out of her thoughts, as she had just been staring into the abyss as he hands mindlessly moved Harry’s rings about, taking them off his fingers and then sliding them back on. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” He muses, reaching out to tap her forehead with his finger. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, I might be able to help.”

“Love,” she tells him simply.

Harry’s brows furrow again. “Love?”

Yes, Harry. Love. Y/N nods her head, letting her hand slip into Harry’s big one, and he holds her little one gently, like if he added any more pressure it’d shatter like glass does. His thumb rubs over the back of her hand, in a more soothing manner, and she looks down at their intertwined hands and smiles a little. It had never really occurred to her, all of the little things Harry does to/with her, that are so simple yet mean so much. She always wondered how she had found someone like Harry, and why he stuck around. “If I’m going to be honest, it’s all that I’ve been thinking about over the last couple of weeks. When we talked, it’s all I thought about it, when you were sleeping and I couldn’t, it’s because that was keeping me awake. It shouldn’t even be a big deal, but to me it is and I do not know why. You know what I’m like, I overthink all of the things that I dwell on, and love just happens to be one of those things I overthink, unfortunately.”

“Is it that you’re scared of it? Because it’s a pretty big thing, so if you do then I understand,” he tells her but she shakes her head with a small smile.

Y/N laughs lightly. “More like if I’m in it? Is that the correct way to say it.” The then questions herself.

“You think you’re in love?”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell over the two of them, and it was a nice and comfortable silence, as they both took in their quick chat. Y/N watches Harry as he looks around his back garden, the wind ruffling his mop of brown and fluffy curls. One of her favourite things to do was run her hands through his hair. When they were cuddling, kissing, or just simply laying on the couch, his head in her lap as they watched whatever show they liked. Harry loved the feeling of her playing with his hair, it was enough to make him fall asleep wherever he was. He looks back to her, and his green eyes catch the light of the setting sun, making him look even more gorgeous then he already is. “Who do you think that you’re in love with?” Harry asks stupidly, like it wasn’t already so obvious that it was him she might love.

She shrugs as she runs her spare hand through her hair. “Timothée Chalamet.”

“Ah,” he hums, “like every other girl on the planet.”

Y/N laughs a little as Harry smiles at hed. He knew that she was joking, but she did have a crush on Timothée. Who wouldn’t?

Suddenly, Harry grabs her legs and pulls her forward, making her squeal in shock. Then she was sitting right in front of him, their faces level. “Now, I want you to tell me what’s actually going on in that head of yours. Okay?” He hums, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and she nods her head with a smile.

“I honestly don’t know where to start,” she explains as her hands reach out to play with the hem of his hoodie, that was a deep blue colour. “I guess the first thing I could say is that I’m pretty confused about all of this love stuff, because I don’t know how to notice or identify a feeling that I’ve never felt before, like I don’t know the signs, nor do I know what something like that is supposed to feel like. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t spoke to Gem and your mum and couple of times to see if they could help me, to see if they were able to give me some guidance or advice. Your mum said something along the lines of ‘don’t overthink it, when you’re in love then you’ll know straight away’. Gemma told me the same thing, that thinking about it too much would only make matters worse, it would only make me more stressed and confused about it. But you know me, overthinking central right here.”

“Sure, I love people, such as my mum and that, but I’ve never been in love, y’know?” She pauses for a moment to look at Harry, and he nods his head. “It is scary to me, because it’s like giving your all to one person, and knowing that you may not get the same in return. I think rejection scares me the most, as being in love in someone in clearly a big thing, so like what if I tell the person, but those feelings aren’t reciprocated? If that makes sense,” she rants to him.

Harry nods. “It makes perfect sense, bab. But love is this thing that has no boundaries, and you cannot be scared of it because at the end of the day, you’re in love with someone and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Yeah, it’s a big thing - it’s like jumping into the deep end of a pool without knowing how to swim, so the best thing you can do is try to float, until you learn to swim. Or in this case, figure out love and how to handle it in the correct way. I’ve been in love before, I have. Trust me, it broke me to pieces but it is one of the best things ever. You’re all for this one person, and only them, and you’ll find yourself thinking of them all of the time. It’s like they decided to fill that vacant space between your ears and start living there. Of course you’ll be scared, it’s love. It’s one of the biggest feelings a person can have, even if you have never felt it before, which I guess is one of the scariest parts about being in love with someone.”

“What is love to you? Like how would you describe it to someone whose never felt an emotion like that before?” She asks, looking at him like he had hung the moon and the stars.

“I don’t think I have the words to explain a feeling like that, because it’s so different for everyone,” he tells her as she watches him, hanging onto every single word that rolls out of his mouth. She could listen to his voice for hours on end. “But to me, it’s like a good and yearning ache in your heart and soul for that one person, even when they are around. Because when they aren’t around you’ll find yourself thinking about them all the fucking time. But it’s good, it’s really good. Just knowing that you’ve matched yourself to this one person is exciting, yet extremely terrifying at the same time because it’s like ‘hey you, I’m going to give my all to you and I hope you accept it, because if you don’t you’ll break my heart’,” Y/N chuckles lightly at Harry’s tone, and he smiles down at her. “It’ll make sense when you feel it, trust me on that one Y/N.”

Y/N reaches a hand up to caress his stubbly cheek, which makes him smile wider as he leans his head into her palm. “That’s beautiful, Haz.”

“It’s like my mum said, when it happens you’ll know. It’s just one of those instinct things,” Harry tells her.

She then leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest. Harry’s arms wrap around her shoulders and her holds her close, and tightly so she felt comfortable. Y/N then let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding in the whole time her and Harry were talking to each other. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and drags his fingers up and down her back to soothe her. They still hadn’t got the bottom of what they needed to speak about, that was only the start and there was still a little bit more to come. Y/N was just too scared to tell him what was really wrong.

All of this was now calming for them. As their were both silent, they were able to hear the wind brushing through the branches on the trees, and the waves crashing against the sand. The occasional car going past the front of the house, and the odd bird singing it’s song in one of the trees, or a helicopter whirring overhead. Both Harry and Y/N longed for moments like these ones, where it felt like nothing else mattered because they had each other, and that’s all they needed. Just the simplicity of being able to sit in each other’s arms and not say a word, instead just enjoying each other’s company, was their favourite. It was a common occurrence, on most of Harry’s days off they’d just cuddle on the couch, or sleep in bed. All the little things that mattered so much. It really is special to the both of them. It meant so much.

“Why did you ask me all of that?” Harry breaks the silence with his question.

Y/N pulls away from the hug and sighs, “because I think I might be falling in love with you, and I don’t know what to do.”

Harry’s face falls.

“No, no!” She quickly says, realising the ‘I don’t know what to do’ sounds bad. “I mean that I don’t know how to handle it or go about something like this, as I’m not really sure if I am in love with you yet. I’m a bit scared.”

“You don’t need to be scared, bab,” he laughs gently at her, now his turn to hold her face in an endearing way, and also to keep her calm because clearly this isn’t easy for her. “It’s hard, I know. Trust me the first time I was in love with someone it was a mess due to me not knowing how to handle an emotion like that, sometimes I look back at it and laugh about how stupid I was. But you don’t need to be scared. Shit like this comes naturally and it isn’t something that you need to dwell on, or stress yourself out about. It’s a big thing, I know, but it’ll make sense soon. You just need to let it happen, because the more you think on it, the more you’ll confuse yourself because your mind will keep on telling you different things. I know you’ve never been in love before, that’s why you need to just let things happen, instead of using all of your thoughts to force these feelings out, okay?”

She groans as she tilts her head back, Harry holding on to her arms so she doesn’t topple back and fall off the bench. “It’s so hard to not think about though.”

“I know, bab. I know. But trust me it’s so much better for yourself if you don’t overthink it.”

A sigh leaves her mouth. “I know I’m not in love with you yet…”

Harry nods.

“But I know that it’s gonna happen soon, y’know. Like just because I know I’m not in love with you just yet. doesn’t mean I can’t feel myself falling in love with you.”

It was as simple as that. Although she knew that she wasn’t in love with Harry yet, and that it could take some time before those feelings were true and she is able to express them, she couldn’t deny the fact that she could feel herself falling in love with him. She didn’t know much about love, but knew enough to know that it’s completely different for a silly little crush like a school girl would have. She was scared, scared of what Harry would say the day she is able to say ‘I love you’ to him (he’s going to say it back), and she’s worried for that. But just knowing that she has him by her side, is enough for her because he’s so good to her. So, so good. Harry’s in love with her, but he wasn’t going to tell her so until she’s ready. He thinks that if he tells her now, it’s going to put some pressure on her to say the same back, so he doesn’t want to do that. He’s going to wait until she’s ready.

“Promise me something,” he says to her.

She hums. “What?”

“That when we go back to London, we can go back to the tube station where we met and play the piano then go home and have spaghetti for dinner,” he tells her, and she laughs.

“Seriously?!” She giggles loudly. Harry laughs with her. “Here I was, thinking that you were going say something romantic like ‘please don’t ever leave me’ or ‘promise be you’ll always be around’, but no! You want to play the piano and eat spaghetti,” she gasps jokingly as she gets up from her chair and grabs her bowl and notebook, throwing one of the paper balls at Harry’s head. He chuckles as he gets up from his chair, and follows her through the patio doors and into the beautiful house.

“Babe,” he whines like a child. “Promise me you’ll always be around.”

Y/N turns around with a soft look on her face, her items now on the countertop. She walks over to the man she’s falling in love with and puts one hand on his face, and the other around his shoulder. She leans in, their lips barely brushing over each other, and Harry smiles as he snakes an arm around her waist. She goes to kiss him, but just as their lips touch, she smiles cheekily at him, patting him on the chest.

“Nah, I belong to Timothée now.”

“You little shit.”

#why do i love this so much #sorry that the ending is a little scruffy #i didnt really know how to end it lmao #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles #harry styles

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prairiesongserial · 4 years

Text

10.8

To Val’s surprise (and slight dismay), Friday had decided to stay for his Sunday school lesson, slipping into the back of the classroom to lean against the wall as Val fielded questions and interruptions from the novitiates. She lingered there for the remainder of the morning, occasionally smirking when Val caught her eye, but keeping largely to herself until the young sisters took a break for lunch, unwrapping the small bundles of food they’d brought with them to eat at their desks. Val had forgotten to bring a lunch for himself - because apparently no amount of staring silently at the ceiling at night could actually prepare him for a day’s work - and was beginning to consider how irresponsible it would be to leave the sisters alone for ten minutes while he went to get something from the kitchen, when Friday wandered up to him.

“Here,” she said, dropping a small, cloth bundle onto the teacher’s desk in front of him. It fell open to reveal bread, cheese, and a decently-ripe looking orange. Val could have cried.

“You made this?” he asked Friday, immediately seizing the orange and sinking his fingernails into the skin, starting to peel it.

She snorted. “I would’ve if I’d known you were gonna forget to pack your own. Mary Theresa caught me on my way to see you, and gave it to me.”

“Well...thank you for delivering it,” Val said. He had peeled the orange enough to pry a slice away with his fingers, and bit into it with a sense of victory, not even minding that it was a little sour.

“It’s weird, everyone here thinks you’re their irresponsible little brother,” Friday said, with a tone that said she was expecting him to elaborate on why that was.

Val smiled. “I am.”

The reply visibly caught Friday off-guard, giving Val a few precious moments of silence in which he continued to methodically peel and eat his orange. He wasn’t sure why this had come as such a shock to Friday - he’d told her bits and pieces about his childhood, definitely enough for her to know that he hadn’t always been a man blessed with the forethought to pack himself a lunch in the morning. And that was putting it nicely. Maybe she’d had to hear it from someone else for it to truly sink in. God only knew what stories the sisters could have told about him.

“So, what, moving to Vegas cured you of being irresponsible?” Friday asked, hopping up to sit on the teacher’s desk. “You know, for most people, it works the other way around.” She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes shiny, a grin lingering around her lips. Val knew that look, and knew he was about to be besieged with more questions than the novitiates had asked about Jacob and Esau.

“It was the first time I had to fend for myself,” he said, by way of response. “And the church needed fixing, so that people in town would actually come to mass. I had to make time for confession, and baptisms, and extra lessons...I wanted to do everything, so everyone would like me. I wasn’t used to living in a town where nobody knew who I was.”

“Here I thought you were a natural overachiever,” Friday said, reaching over to steal a slice of orange. Val let her do it, seeing that she’d brought no lunch of her own. She probably hadn’t anticipated staying this long. He was curious to know why she had.

“I regret ruining the illusion for you,” he said, wryly.

Val didn’t like thinking about those first few months in Vegas, if he could help it. He’d gotten a lot done in only a little time, sure, but between the loneliness of being away from home for the first time, the rigor of fixing up the church, and the stress of establishing himself among the townsfolk, he had been miserable. And besides all of that, Hez had left him behind without even staying the night, like the time they’d spent together on the road hadn’t been worth anything at all. Like Val was a stranger, who meant nothing.

“I know it stressed you out,” Friday said, stealing another piece of his orange. “You were, what, eighteen? You were pretty much the same age as me, and I thought you were just some stuffy priest. Like you had your shit together. But you were probably closer to the way the sisters here remember you.” She scuffed one foot against the floor. “There was that time I ran in on you crying, in back of the church. But we weren’t friends yet, so I figured I shouldn’t ask.”

“I wasn’t...my best,” Val admitted. “But I did the work, because I needed to. I didn’t want to turn out like the priest who’d been there before me - who made a real mess for me to clean up, if you’ll recall.”

Friday made a face. “He was a drunk, you mean.”

“He was a shitty priest,” Val said, solemnly, but quietly enough that the novitiates wouldn’t hear.

The sunlight filtering in through the church windows caught Friday’s face as she laughed. Val looked to her a little wonderingly, also feeling as though he was seeing her for the first time, even though she was one of his oldest friends. She looked so different now than she had in Vegas. Her hair had grown out a little on the road, and was an unruly cloud around her head, curling over her ears and into her eyes. Val wondered if she missed her wig at all, and if he should go into town to try and find her a new one.

“I hope you weren’t too lonely in Vegas,” Friday said, a statement that was really a question. Val wondered if she was trying to skirt the Hez issue by pretending not to address it directly.

“I was,” he said, honestly. “For the first couple months, at least. Even though I had people in and out of the church every day. But after that, it was okay. I owe some of that to you, if you’re fishing for compliments.”

“Me? Never,” Friday said, but a little smile curled its way onto her lips nonetheless.

Val hummed knowingly in response, and split what remained of his orange in half, handing one half to Friday and keeping the other for himself. She took it, still smiling, and they ate in comfortable silence, the novitiates making enough happy chatter to fill the room around them.

“You know,” Friday said, at last, as Val handed half of his bread and a piece of cheese over to her, “I would understand if you didn’t want to come back to Vegas.”

Val looked at her, studying her face again and trying to gauge what she had meant. Friday’s eyebrows were half-raised, and she looked almost as though she wanted him to prove her wrong. Or like she wanted an argument. It was hard to tell, with Friday.

“I want to go back to Vegas with you,” he said, letting his eyes slide down towards the desk as he took a bite out of his piece of bread. Not going back to the life he’d built for himself in Vegas was unthinkable, even if half of that life had recently been burnt to the ground.

“Yeah, but do you mean that, or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?” Friday asked. Val wondered why she couldn’t have just quit while she was ahead with this conversation - but then again, she never did. That was Friday for you.

“I want to go back,” he said again, firmly.

“Your church went up in flames, Val,” Friday said, leaning back towards the desk until she was nearly lying down on it, so she could look him in the eye. “If you don’t want to go back, you’ve got your excuse right there. Rebuilding something like that...it’s hard work.”

Val had considered this - in fact, Friday was starting to sound very much like the thoughts that swirled around in his head at night and refused to let him sleep. Despite how often he entertained them, though, and how much time he spent trying to pick at the knot that was the problem of the destroyed church, he still had no more answers than when he’d left Vegas. Where was he going to stay when they got back? He didn’t know. How was he going to pay to build a new church from scratch? Good question.

“If God wants me to continue my work there, He will provide the resources,” Val said, because he desperately needed to believe that was true. He had admittedly considered, on a few bad nights, that he must be at the center of some horrible divine gamble, like Job had been, but dismissed the idea as a product of exhaustion.

“And what if He doesn’t?” Friday asked.

“Friday…”

“No, I’m serious. What’s keeping you in Vegas?” There was an anxious sort of edge to Friday’s voice, and Val could tell she was trying to cover it up for his benefit. He hadn’t expected that. Apparently he had been so nervous about having this exact conversation that he hadn’t stopped to consider that maybe Friday was, too.

“Friday,” he said again, reaching across the desk to touch her arm. “I’m not quitting on Vegas just because I don’t have a church anymore. I’ll figure something out.”

“But your family’s here,” Friday said, glancing around the room. “You could just tell them what happened, and they’d let you stay. Right?”

There was still something carefully guarded about her tone, something she wasn’t saying. Val wondered if she resented him for having a family who had raised him from infancy, who still sent him care packages of honey and dried herbs and letters wondering after how he was doing. He knew Friday didn’t have any blood relatives left, and certainly no one to send her care packages. But she had the Ace, and Val had assumed that it was sort of like the convent in a way, with sisters who Friday had grown up around. Maybe he was wrong.

“You’re my family, too,” he said, and squeezed her arm gently, once, before letting go.

Friday turned to him with her mouth open in surprise, but the classroom door slammed open before she could say anything else. Sister Grace Marie tumbled into the room, sweaty and red-faced with exertion, looking like she had run most of the way there. Val almost didn’t recognize her; the last time he had seen her, she had been fifteen.

“Is everything alright?” Val asked, on his feet before he could think twice about it. Whatever Friday wanted to say to him, it could wait.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Sister Grace Marie said, breathless. “Mother Superior wants to see you. In her office. I’m supposed to take over lessons for the rest of the afternoon.”

The novitiates had gone silent at the abrupt noise the door had made, but now began to murmur conspiratorially amongst themselves. Val couldn’t help but feel like he was a teenager again, heading directly for a dressing-down from the Holy Mother after getting tipsy on communion wine with Valentine in the chapel rafters.

“Ah. Thank you,” he said, wiping suddenly clammy palms on his thighs. He glanced over his shoulder at Friday, and chanced a smile. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Oh, probably,” she said loftily. A sneaky smile grew across her face, and Val could hardly reconcile this impish Friday with the woman she had been a minute before. “Unless I have something better to do.”

Val’s smile grew to match, in spite of himself. “Well, don’t get yourself into trouble.”

“And leave you to rebuild your church all alone?” Friday smiled back at him finally, showing teeth. “Father, I would never.”

10.7 || 10.9

#story

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queenofthemindynasty · 5 years

Text

Even If You Say ‘No’ - pt 5

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

Summary: {Y/n}, a brilliant, young producer at BigHit Entertainment, tends to be overly self-critical of her work and scarcely gives herself credit when it’s due. Hoseok, A.K.A. J-Hope of BTS, puts so much effort into keeping up the spirits of the other members, he hardly has time to worry about his own well being. What will happen when the two cross paths?

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol Universe

Warnings: explicit language

Word Count: 1783

Hoseok was at a loss for what to do. He was alone now in {Y/n}’s studio after she’d bolted out of the place at lightning speed. Was that it? Had he lost her for good?

As the reality of the situation sank in when he noticed the state of the studio, he shook his head. She’d even forgotten to lock up, not to mention shut down all her equipment. At least he was capable of doing the latter for her. He scooted his chair in front of her desktop and saved her work as a new file just in case she would still want to return to the last one. The old one had been titled, “Lost_Stars_ver._5.midi,” so he gave the new one the name, “Lost_Stars_ver._♡.midi.” He paused before clicking “save,” however. {Y/n} had seemed more than a little distressed when she’d left earlier. Maybe leaving this for her to find later wasn’t such a good idea. He didn’t want to risk scaring her off completely. Deleting the heart and replacing it with a ‘6’, he clicked ‘save’ and shut down the computer.

Now what? he thought, leaning back in the chair she’d offered him. He could text her, apologising for any lines he might have crossed. No, it would probably have been best to give her some space for a bit, at least until tomorrow came. He wasn’t sure if he even had crossed a line anyway. It had seemed that way when she had fled the scene earlier. But before that, she’d reciprocated his advances. What was going on? Hadn’t he been rejected? Of course he had; she’d shoved him off of her with quite some urgency. But then why had she seemed to accept him in the beginning? Maybe she felt the same way, but there was something else holding her back. If there was, then he had definitely crossed the line by doing what he had done. God damn it, just use your words next time.

He let out a heavy breath, standing up. He’d just have to sort it out with her tomorrow.

The next morning, he woke up in the dorm at a reasonable time, just around when most of the other members were waking up. The events of the previous evening were replaying in his head on a loop. The rest of that morning in the dorm, he got ready for work with a newfound sense of urgency. He finished quickly, before most of the other members were ready to go. He didn’t want to rush them, but he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

In the car, he didn’t talk to the others. All he thought about was what he would say to {Y/n} when he’d see her. Would she even want to talk to him? What if confronting her made him come off as a creep? He wouldn’t if he just apologised, right? {Y/n} wasn’t the type to hold something against someone for long, so she’d listen to what he had to say. He chewed on his lip anxiously. Why hadn’t he just asked her how she felt from the very beginning instead of forcing himself on her?

When they arrived at BigHit Entertainment, however, the members were immediately put to work practicing choreography for the music video they’d be shooting soon. {Y/n} might not have even gotten there yet anyway since it was still pretty early. Hoseok would just have to go find her later. Maybe he could sneak out during their lunch break. No, he shouldn’t be doing that. It wasn’t reasonable to skip out on meals, not even for something like this. They’d get off work some time in the afternoon, so he could try and catch her then. She usually stayed in her studio pretty late before heading home. He’d just have to be patient.

The day went by at a snail’s pace. Several times throughout, he thought about just texting her. But every time, he reminded himself that patience, like always, would pay off, and that it would be better to talk to her face-to-face instead of through a screen.

For the duration of the day, he was fit to burst with countless emotions. There were apprehension and worry about being rejected, but also hope and excitement about the opposite and, not to mention, just seeing her. That was something to look forward to every day at work: simply being around her. He treasured the moments they stole together in Atlantas, he watching her work on a song and seeing her unparallelled dedication to her craft. She truly excelled at the things she spent her time doing in that little studio of hers. If only she could see that for herself. One day, she would.

At the end of a long day of rehearsals and shoots and meetings, Hoseok was burnt out. But just as he was getting ready to head home, he remembered he had some work to do in his studio. He’d promised Namjoon and Yoongi a week or so ago that he’d finish up a certain song so they wouldn’t have to. Tomorrow was the day he’d said he would have it finished by. A loud smack resonated from his forehead as it made contact with his palm. He groaned. His arm slumped back down to his side like it was filled with rocks. He was already exhausted. The little amount of work needed to finish up that track seemed like an impossible task. He wasn’t even thinking about seeing {Y/n} at this point as he made his way through the building to his studio. He just needed to go home and rest.

It was ten in the evening, and he was sitting down at his desk, booting up his computer while the rest of the group was probably already back at the dorm. He let out a sigh muddled with fatigue and frustration. Why had he waited until the last minute to do this? Wearily, he started up Cubase Pro, opening the unfinished track and beginning to sort through what needed polishing.

He heard a sudden noise behind him. He swiveled in his chair, and {Y/n} was standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he smiled before noticing her expression. She looked tiny with the way her body stiffened and her jaw clenched when he saw her. “Is this about what happened yesterday?” She nodded. “I’m so sorry.” He stood up to meet her at the door, making sure it was closed. “I should’ve just asked you first like any respectful person would do. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No…” She looked at the floor. “It’s not that.”

“It’s not?” She stayed quiet. “So why did you run away like that, yesterday?”

“Because I love you!”

She’d blurted it out so suddenly that he almost missed it. “Wait…what?”

“I’m sorry.”

So she’d just confessed her love for him after running away from him the day before, and now she was apologising? “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that you like me, too.” Her face went red and her eyes wide as soon as the words were out. “Wait, that came out wrong. Uh…” She was panicking, avoiding his eyes and looking everywhere else but at him. “I meant—just—because I’m afraid. Of what might happen. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me, and I’m…scared the Army will think I’m some kind of slut. Which I am, really! I shouldn’t even think about being in a relationship with you; there are so many people that you’d be better off with who are all way more talented and better-looking than I am. You don’t want me. You can’t want me. I’m-”

“Stop it.”

She looked at him the moment he grabbed her hands, every part of her going still and tense.

He couldn’t believe the unadulterated shamelessness of the verbal abuse she’d just inflicted upon herself. “I hate it when you speak so little of yourself.” His focus was trained on the soft contours of her face as he kept his tone gentle and reassuring. “I like you, and everyone here at this company likes you, too. And there are lots of other people out there, but you’re the only one I’m interested in. What anyone else says about you is invalid because I think you’re beautiful. And don’t even get me started on how talented you are!” he laughed. “Point being, you are important and valuable to me. There’s no one I can think of that I could ever want instead of you.”

She hesitated before responding. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” He squeezed her fingers affectionately in his loose grip. “I wouldn’t lie to you, I promise.”

The story of Cinderella came into Hoseok’s mind. He’d found out a while back about {Y/n}’s childhood and the people she grew up around. She’d spent her whole life prior to becoming a producer in fear of someone coming out of the blue to kick her and pull her hair and tell her how worthless she was. Even her father, despite “not having as much ill will towards her,” as she had put it, had always had some violent tendencies. She’d been alone her whole life. He recalled how in the old fairytale, Cinderella’s cruel stepmother and stepsisters had belittled her and defaced her, all for the sake of attracting the prince’s eye. But {Y/n}’s “stepfamily” had disappeared from the story the moment she had first stepped into BigHit. So why was it that they still seemed to haunt her, but now in the form of the Army? Had she really lived so much of her life being told she was less than everyone around her that she still believed it? It was as though they’d brainwashed her into never thinking about herself, or telling anyone about the terrible things she’d been forced to go through. Why did it have to be this way?

“But…” she spoke up, “I’ve never been in a relationship before. I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you what you want, what you deserve.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m in love with you.” Nothing would ever change that. He’d learnt that after she’d been in his thoughts for more than half a year, ever since that night on the Japanese stage, when she’d reminded him how truly loved he was.

She smiled sadly. “But your fans, they—”

“Don’t have to know.”

She halted, seeming at a loss for words. Then she nodded slowly and with certain hesitance. “Okay.”

#my writing #bts #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #fluff #angst #idol universe

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my-last-words07 · 5 years

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The Storm

If y’all know me, you know that I work at a summer camp, and this year I came back early because of a huge storm that shut down my camp. I’ve tried and tried to write about it, but understandably, It’s hard to recover from something of that magnitude. Y’all may understand more if I ever manage to write it. But here’s a try.

July 19, 2019, it was the night of the closing campfire. We were in the Dining Hall, thank God, because we knew a storm was coming. About halfway through some skits, the power went out. A few minutes later, part of the roof broke and let in some water. No big deal, in the grand scheme of things.

After skits and stories, we learned about a small extent of the damage, through whispers and messages. An office staff stood up in front of everyone and said, “We’re still checking the damage, so everyone will be here a little bit longer.”

True heroes of the night were my friend Stark, who told a story for almost an hour, to keep everyone distracted. All of the staff that passed out cups and carried water pitchers so everyone could be hydrated. The office staff, that were responsible for keeping everyone safe and calm inside the hall. The staff that stood up and lead songs to keep campers entertained.

An hour later, the camp director stood up, and that’s how you know shit is real. He said, “I need everyone’s attention. Because of the damage, we’ve decided that everyone is going to spend the night in the Dining Hall. It’s too dangerous to leave now.”

Some people, like myself, were a little more anxious at that news. True hero was the camp director, that led me and a friend to the office to stay alone and calm down.

Once he got us to the office, he leveled with us. He said, “Everyone is safe, and that’s the important part. The way I see it, there’ll be a few work days, and then... Everyone will be sent home. We can’t open camp like this.”

That was the straw that broke my back. Camp is where most of my friends are. If we’re not at camp, I live several states away from most of them. So the news that I’d be leaving them... After you hear everyone is safe, it’s okay to be upset about the selfish things.

So me and another close friend were in the office, arms around each other, holding hands, crying at the news, trying to calm ourselves down, trying to feel any semblance of okay. Spoiler alert, we didn’t succeed.

There was a quick meeting for the director to fill us all in, and he asked for volunteers to stay up all night to watch the Scouts. I remember the pride I felt, and the pride our director showed, when every single hand went up to volunteer to help, in any way that they could. The real heroes were the staff that were willing to give up sleep, in the middle of this disaster, to watch over the campers and keep them safe.

Myself and a few other friends fell asleep in the office. One person prepped his drone, because he’d volunteered to use it to take pictures, and assess the damage.

We woke up four hours after we’d fallen asleep, at 5:30 am, and started to do whatever we could. Some of us went down to the firebowl, where we saw the boat coming from the camp on the other side of the lake. They pulled up, the boat half full of lake water, and said, “Can we get a bucket line going? We’re out of running water.”

Some staff hauled and ferried water all morning, without even stopping for breakfast.

Myself and two other people, Stark and Skylar served breakfast. We didn’t know just how much food we had, or if there’d be enough of it, but we knew we needed to feed these kids. So, for 45 minutes we sat in line, serving cinnamon rolls, bagels, and milk to 200+ people, some of which wanted answers that we didn’t have.

Partway through serving, a staff member comes up behind us. “Spread the word, the showerhouse is closed. We’re out of running water.”

Imagine, if you will, standing in line, trying to feed hundreds of people. You’re dead tired, you’re trying to look happy but failing, and everyone knows that this is an emergency situation.

Then it gets worse. You have 200+ people, and no more water. And you can’t do anything except keep serving your burnt cinnamon rolls and frozen bagels. Imagine the terror. I don’t have to imagine it, I was there. We all kept serving, and kept calm. True heroes are the ones that worked twice as hard so no one else had to work or worry.

I found out later that a few younger staff had been helping run the ferry, getting people to the other side of the lake so that they could drive out. Fourteen and fifteen year olds had been so quick to volunteer that not many others had realized. They worked tirelessly for hours, and when the ferry stopped for the day, they walked a mile back to main camp and worked some more. They’re the real heroes.

I played almost 3 hours of Mau with some friends to keep campers entertained. Mau is the worst card game in the universe, if you didn’t know. Quite a few of us, on a few hours of sleep, elected to stay awake longer to make sure campers had fun. You already know what I’ll say about that.

That night we got all of the campers out of camp, and some roads started to clear. We couldn’t do anything else, except wait. Pack up camp. People worked tirelessly wherever they were needed to make sure camp got properly packed up. No one sat idle. That very night, someone drove up with cases upon cases of water for us. People heard about our plight and, without a second thought, packed their cars and asked to help. Disaster really brings out the best in people.

And then on Monday, after a few days of the worst possible things happening, we went home.

All of us went home. Just one week ago, I said goodbye to my home that had been destroyed, and my friends that I so sorely needed during this time... And I drove back to Michigan. While this was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my life, let’s concentrate on the people that I’ve been pointing out through this whole post.

The true heroes. Stark, who distracted people with her story for almost an hour, to keep everyone calm. The staff members that led songs, and played games. Nate, who lent his drone to the cause. The office staff that had to deal with keeping everyone safe. All of the people that volunteered to stay up all night, everyone that stayed out all day with chainsaws, clearing our trails. The people that served food, and brought us water and ran the ferry, and kept everyone safe and calm.

This was the worst experience of my life, but that’s not what I can concentrate on. I have to concentrate on the heroes that shone through, and did everything in their power to keep people safe and calm, and get us out safely and quickly. That’s what you have to pay attention to in these trying times.

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09yards · 5 years

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9 - The Art of Truly Caring (days gone by - nct au)

Donghyuck learns more about himself and the meaning of having a soulmate–an idea he hadn't entertained before.

-> As always this is available on ao3 which I prefer to use for formatting, you can find that link here

Please don’t ever become a stranger who’s laugh I could recognise anywhere

"I think you know why I'm here."

It wasn't a question, there wasn't any doubt in his voice. He knew Donghyuck was well aware what his reasoning for being there was. Donghyuck wasn't stupid, nor was he.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Where's the fun in me answering right off the bat, Johnny ?”

Donghyuck took in his slightly disheveled appearance, giving him another once over before speaking again. "You better come inside, your mum would murder me if he knew you'd been sat out here in the cold and wet waiting for me," Donghyuck sighed, "Lord knows I don't need that on my conscience, nor do I feel like getting killed in my sleep any time in the next week."

Donghyuck's house was usually pretty eerie, it was always too quiet, no sibling's screaming at each other from across the hall, no clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen or the echo of the TV. Wildly different from his own home.

"I'm sorry to just show up like this but I didn't know what else to do."

"It's not a problem, what am I going to do anyway? Turn you away from my front door in this weather? I can be a bitch but I'm not heartless, Johnny.”

“I never said you were. I just wasn’t expecting you to actually let me inside, you seem to be shutting just about everyone out right now, both physically and metaphorically of course.”

Donghyuck shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing two mugs so he could make them some tea, it was the least he could do before he got berated for breaking Johnny’s brothers heart. Johnny just watched in a daze, trying to think through all the things he could say; neither Donghyuck nor Mark were aware of Johnny having witnessed heir argument, having watched as not just one, but two hearts shattered to pieces the moment Donghyuck had let out that first, strangled ‘I’m sorry’.

The two sat across from each other, in Donghyuck's far too clean and tidy living room to have even been lived in, hot chocolate's in hand and heating their only defense against the grim weather.

“Guess I like you too much to do that, plus you scare me slightly when you get into protective big brother mode.”

“You know protective big brother mode applies to you too, right? I’ve known you longer than I’ve known Jisung, you’re just as much my brother as Jisungie or Mark.”

“But Mark or Jisung aren’t the ones who broke your little brothers heart. Or rather shattered it into oblivion and crushes all his hopes and dreams. I’m a horrible excuse for a human-being.”

“Don’t say that Hyuck, you can’t think its the be-all and end-all just because you don’t feel the same way about him, just because you don’t know how you feel or what you feel.”

Donghyuck ran his hands over his face and sighed, "Mark hates me Johnny, I didn't just break his heart - I clawed it out, stomped all over it and chucked it away like he meant nothing to me."

"He doesn't hate you, he could never hate you Haechannie."

Donghyuck scoffed, "And how would you know that?"

"Because that's the thing about soulmates. No one ever realises the true power of a soulmate until they find their own, even then it's practically impossible to explain. There isn't words to describe the pure devotion, that true love you feel, the way you'd do anything for them. Your soulmate isn't someone you give your life too, it's someone who completes you. Without them you'd smile a little less, cry a little more and be a little lonelier. They support you in life and you do the same, you work together, not alone. It's so beautiful. Whether they’re by your side, down the street, or the other side of the world–you’re connected."

"I still can't comprehend how much of a sap you've become."

It was Johnny's turn to scoff, "Come on, be serious with me here. It's just me and you, you know you can talk to me about anything. You don't have to talk about Mark or soulmates, you can talk about school, or applying to uni, or Red Velvet's latest comeback, you don't have to lie or fake anything to me. It’s me Donghyuck and I may not be your soulmate but I’m not going anywhere."

"Johnny, you don't have to do this. You don't have to act like you care... no one else does, not even my own parents. Save yourself the trouble and whatever obligation you feel to be here."

That was the thing about Donghyuck's parents, they just didn't really care. There was no 'I'm proud of you' when he brought his report home, or a genuine 'how was your day?'. The two lived and breathed their work and he would always be thankful for everything they had given him but he couldn't help the feeling of missing the attachment that the others around him had to their parents. He went home to an empty house, the place looked like something straight out of a catalog, not a shoe out of place. It didn't look lived in and it never felt like a home. He'd always spent more time at Mark's or Jaemin’s during his childhood especially, they were homes. Jaemin's always, without fail, smelt like home cooked food, it was warm and cozy with little traces of each member of the family filtering in to every room. Mark's on the other hand was arguably utter chaos , the usual smell of burnt food (Mark has been banned from the kitchen but that doesn't seem to stop him) or the vanilla scented candles his mother adores and insists on putting in every room no matter the weather.

If you asked Donghyuck to describe what a home felt like, whether he thought about it or not, he would inevitably end up describing the Lee's. There were pencil markings on the wall beside the inside of the office door, logging their heights every year since Johnny was four, his personal favourite is this past year when Jisung officially passed Mark in height - and yes, Mark is still bitter about it. Donghyuck likes the way he knows that the chips on the skirting board in the hallway and the dent in the wooden flooring is from when Johnny dropped a bottle of vodka at sixteen and it was his first experience witnessing someone use such colourful language. He likes the way he knows that the light on the fence at the bottom of the garden doesn't work because Jaemin had finally kicked a football into it one too many times and they still haven't gotten around to fixing it despite the fact it was almost five years ago. He liked the little nick nacks that had found their way onto any possible empty surface, random pictures of days out, school events and Polaroids of evenings that are now slightly hazy in their memories but if the smiles on their faces are anything to go by it was enjoyable all the same.

Donghyuck liked the way Mark's bedroom screamed him the moment you walked in. Donghyuck's was plain and simple, aside from the pop art canvas print of Michael Jackson his mum had bought him to replace his 'ghastly' posters. Mark's room was filled with miscellaneous art and clutter he loved despite not having any meaning (it had meaning to him no matter how stupid- it always had meaning), from his giant poster of the periodic table (colour-coded and all), to the one of his favourite football team, the vintage band posters he'd put up to remind him of his dad, to ones of his favourite movies and video games. In all the years they've known each one another Donghyuck is pretty convinced he can count the number of times Marks bed has been made on one hand, his numerous blankets tossed haphazardly around. It was organised chaos, it made Hyuck feel safe and cosy, made him feel like he was home.

"You can't stop me from caring about you Donghyuck, that's not going to happen. I love you just like my brothers, you know that, you grew up just as much a part of the family as anyone else. You don't have to hide who you are Donghyuck, not to me."

"I don't know what to do, Johnny. I don't know where it all went wrong," Donghyuck's voice faltered, barely above a whisper. He let out a faint sob.

Johnny got up from his seat, wrapping his arms around the younger and pulling him into a tight hug as he let out sob after sob. Finally releasing all his built-up emotions.

"Shhh, don't worry Hyuck, I've got you okay. You're going to be just fine, I've got you."

It took a while but the younger had finally calmed down enough to speak again, hesitantly removing himself from Johnny's tight hold.

"So, what I got in between your sobs, Mark confessed but you haven't gotten your soulmate Mark so unless there's some sort of glitch, you and him aren't actually meant to be - wow, my whole life has been a lie if that's the case- and you think you may be 'kinda, sorta, maybe' gay?"

"Yeah that's about the most of it," Donghyuck huffed.

"Right. Honestly don't know where to start with unpacking all of that but you seem might need to talk your feelings out.”

“It feels like my whole life I’ve been told that Mark and I will end up being soulmates, no one ever thought we wouldn’t be. We just ignored it, kept living our lives as best friends and that let me ignore my feelings, ignore the fact that my parents would treat me the same as they did Taeyong if they knew I was gay, that I am gay.

I’ve grown up in a house that doesn’t believe you have to be with your soulmate, that doesn’t believe that there’s just one person out there for everyone. My parents not being with their soulmates made me think there wasn’t anything wrong with it, that people getting sick when they’re apart from their soulmate is some manufactured lie. I don’t know what to believe anymore. ”

“I watched my mum lose my dad Hyuck and whether it’s true or not, she wasn’t the same after. She wasn’t the same for a long time. That love she had for him had nowhere to go, it destroyed her. I don’t have anything against people who don’t date their soulmate, or people who go without ever so much as searching for them. I don’t think it's denying your soulmate that destroys you, it’s denying that love. Love is powerful and all-consuming and it makes you lose yourself for a little while but you always figure it out in the end. Whether you think Mark is your soulmate or not, if you truly care for him as something more than just your best friend, no one will stop you. Soulmates don’t resign you to loving one person.”

"I don't want to be with someone whose heart belongs to someone else. If Mark and I really aren’t soulmates, surely I’m just setting myself up for heartbreak? Just once, I want to be someone's first choice. I'm so sick of being second best all the time."

"Hyuck, you know that's not true. You know you're not second best, that's just stupid."

"Yes, I am. Sometimes it's subtle, like the way my parents finally let me enroll in dance classes or allowed me to dye my hair - but I realised that they were dealing with the fact Taeyong walked out by replacing him with me. I'm not really Mark's best friend, Renjun always will be, but we all know Mark would choose family above all else, you included. You and Ten defy all odds against your relationship because you truly believe in one another and the idea of soulmates. Chenle would find Jisung in every lifetime and Jaemin... Jaemin lives and breathes Renjun. Jaemin wouldn't let a soul so much as harm a hair on Renjun's head he is so in love with that boy. So, no Johnny, I'm not even second best, I'm a last resort to everyone, even my own parents."

Johnny paused, mouth opening and closing a of times while he tried to figure out what to say, "Your parents are really trying to replace him with you?"

"I don't know, it feels like they are. Sometimes they'll accidentally ask if he's coming home for tea or something equally mundane and the looks on their faces when they realise what they've just said... it's obvious they miss him but they won't do anything about it, they're too stubborn to care." Hyuck runs his hands over his face and lets out a deep breath, "They only started letting me do all these things since Taeyong left. They couldn't stop him, he didn't listen, but I did and look where that got me. I'm a stranger in my own home and I have to hide who I really am. It’s like they hope that if they give me more freedom that I won’t turn out like Taeyong or ruin their little picture perfect family."

"I know you're angry right now, at me, at Mark, at your parents... at the world. But, I will always try my best to be there for you and if you need to get out of there please, please just come to ours. I can't stand that you still live there, you don't deserve to be in a place like that."

Johnny gave one of his heart-warming smiles, hugging Donghyuck again. “You are loved Haechannie, there are people who care about you, people who would risk the world for you and you just need to let yourself be open to the idea that someone can love you, for you. Don't be a stranger, stop hiding from the world and let yourself be you again. You didn't get the nickname Haechan for nothing.”

Johnny left after more hugs and tears, telling Donghyuck he’s loved, over and over again. Drilling it into him so he couldn’t forget, so he had no choice but to remember.

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