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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now.

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too.

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy.

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English.

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke.

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that.

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her.

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest.

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over.

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language.

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing.

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly.

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors.

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest.

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay.

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together.

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions.

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately.

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes.

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it.

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.”

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction.

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat.

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees.

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips.

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous.

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #fluff #Tom Holland angst

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kenmas-consoles · 4 years

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Can i request a love triangle between kuroo and kenma??? daMn ive WATched enough anIme today I-

Ion know if you wanted a headcannon thing or a story sooooo since its like past midnight and my mind is all scattered imma make it a headcanon and a story so fasten your seatbelts cause this is gonna be hella cheesy also I have never done a love triangle scenario before so please huehuehue

Summary: Kenma never did like losing and Kuroo always got things his way but (Y/n) was something the boys believed was so close but seemed too far out of reach. As the two boy’s found out that they were pining after the same girl, a silent competition to win (Y/n) over before the other has begun.

LOVE TRIANGLE ft. Kuroo and Kenma

Headcanons:

You know how people why people say a girl and a boy couldn't be just friends cause sooner or later atleast one of them would catch feels?

welps that's exactly what happened here minus the fact (Y/n) was friends with two guys which meant she had two admirers

Kuroo without a doubt would probably realized he liked the girl first before Kenma even knew what to make of this feeling. The boy may or may not have been crushing on (y/n) since primary school

The two would always play house and he would play the father and she would play the mother. As he was the captain of the volleyball team and you were the manager he actually proposed the role and proclaimed that you both as mom and dad of the team

Kenma would probably realize the feeling quite late maybe middle school or high school

he would probably think about it late at night as he stared at his ceiling while looking at back at some memories as he does sometimes when he couldn't sleep then he finds himself thinking about (y/n) a lot and how he likes being around her and a memory of one of his classmates asking him if he was dating her popped up he then stayed the whole night up trying to make sense of everything and if he actually did like her which in fact he did

As (y/n) and Kenma were classmates the girl liked spoiling the boy with affection and treats, not that he minded though he loved being with you and it gave him the upperhand against Kuroo. Kenma would sometimes use your kindness and denseness to his advantage too.

(Y/n) didn’t suspect a thing whenever Kenma would lean his head on your shoulder feigning drowsiness or when he follows you like a lost puppy.

(Y/n) might not have noticed but Kuroo did and he wasn’t liking it. You both were already married, although in pretend but STILL no one was gonna steal his girl away even if it was his bestfriend.

Story:

It was one of those days again, Kenma’s head was on your lap as he played his videogames and (Y/n) was running her delicate fingers through the boy’s bi-colored hair and the boy hummed ever so often at her touch and whining whenever the girl would stop. (Y/n) found it cute that her bestfriend was like a kitten needy for it’s owner’s touch. The two were currently situated under an apple tree outside the main campus because their Basic Calculus teacher had dismissed the class 30 minutes before lunch ditching his students as well their current lesson plan. It didn’t really affect the class much since they were already atleast 3 lessons ahead the other classes. This also meant that Kenma got a 30 minute headstart to spend lunch with (Y/n) without Kuroo trying to steal away her attention.

★彡★彡★彡

The girl could faintly hear the sound of Kenma’s videogame as he tapped away on his PSP. The boy had a pout on his face and looked up when he had noticed the girl had stopped running her hands through his hair. In his peripheral vision he could see (Y/n) smiling as she looked up at her phone before typing. That didn’t sit well with the boy at all as he continued to pout.

“Kuroo texted me,” the girl said with a smile, one that the boy didn’t return and instead adjust his body on your lap so he was facing sideways so (Y/n) wouldn’t see

And there it was, the boy had thought, Kuroo’s whisking her attention off of him again. The boy huffed not loud enough for his female companion to hear.

“He can’t have lunch with us today. . . said he had to tutor some of his friends for their Chem test happening after lunch."

Kenma only replied with a sigh, "Are you upset he can't have lunch with us?" the girl questioned when she saw the boys hunched figure and furrowed brows.

The boy sat up from resting his head on her lap and looked her dead straight in the eye, "No i'm not," before flopping back down to his previous position then grabbing one of the girl's hand and placing it on his head, "I'd rather soend my lunch here alone with you and your head pats." he says plainly.

★彡★彡★彡

When class has ended the girl was surprised to see Kuroo leaning by the backdoor’s door frame waiting for her them. The boy was hoping to walk her to the gym before Kenma could pack up and join so he could ask her out on a date. Kenma sat a few desks ahead still preoccupied with his phone probably forgetting that class had ended and the teacher had dismissed them minutes ago.

Kuroo motioned for the girl to come closer and the girl came over but not before sparing her pudding head friend a glance.

“I’m sorry for missing lunch with you today, I wanna make it up to you.”

The girl had giggled a bit causing the ravenette to blush quite a bit as well as caused a certain pudding head to turn his head back so fast he could’ve gotten whiplash. The two males had made eye contact for a brief second and Kuroo knew he had to act fast as he saw Kenma shove his belongings in his bag.

“I’ll take you out this saturday, just you and me we could go to this cat cafe I found.”

“I’d like that”

‘Score’ he thought.

Kuroo-1

Kenma-0

“What’s going on here?” The pudding boy had questioned, more specifically aimed to Kuroo who was wearing a smug smile on his face.

“Ah, Kuroo just asked me out,” the girl said almost a mtter of factly causing both of the boys’ eyes to widen in shock both for different reasons. The girl being quite the oblivious character she was didn’t know the severity of the choice of words she chose as she just meant it as just them going out as friends and nothing more.

Kuroo coughed in his fist blushing slightly then faced Kenma with an even bigger shit eating grin. Kenma wasn’t all that dumb as your words did take him by surprise he was wuick to catch on that you meant it in a hangout sort of way.

Feigning curiosity the boy looked up at the girl asking, “That’s nice, where to?”

“A cat cafe that Kuroo found, doesn’t that sound fun?” The girl beamed, ‘gotcha’ Kenma thought as you took the bait and his plan was falling into place.

The boy then turned to the girl with a pout, “that does sound fun. . .”

The girl blinked once. twice. thrice.

“You can come with us if you’d like,” the girl said cheerfully hooking her arm with Kenma’s then facing Kuroo, “He can come with us, right?”

The boy didn’t know how to explain how he only wanted to be with YOU cause he planned this whole date out just so ce could have some alone time with the girl. The boy looked over at the girl who had pleading eyes and the boy next to hr who was wearing a small smug smile. It was almost daring him to say no and make him look like an asshole infront of the girl he liked.

Kuroo took the bait and reluctantly agreed as (Y/n) happily skipped off to the gym leaving the two bestfriends alone. They had glared hard at one another with the same thought in mind.

“I’m not losing this game of love”

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanart #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu!!#hq #kenma #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou oneshots #kenma x reader x kuroo

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harrystyleswatermelon-sugar · 4 years

Text

Gas station encounter - Part IV

Part III

The next day I wait for him standing behind my window. When he pulls up outside I smile because he is too early. His black car is standing in the same spot than the day before, when he brought me home.

I see him getting out of the car and shooting a glance up to my flat, then onto his phone. He leans his back on his car and puts his hands in his pockets. He wears a black hat and a black coat with some brown Chelsea boots and dark pants.

When I close my door behind me I feel my phone vibrating and look at it. Harry sent me a text and I start going down. He smiles when I open the door and step outside.

“Hey there, how are you?” he asks and hugs me.

“Great, how are you? Ready to grab some coffee?” he nods and kisses my cheek.

“Sure, let´s go. I thought I would show you my favourite café. Believe me, they have the most amazing things” he promises and opens the car door for me.

The way to his café is not very long and when he finally found a parking spot a few streets away he looks at me.

“I apologize in advance. It is very likely that I am recognised and because you are an attractive woman it probably will be in the media tomorrow. Be prepared” he warns me and I shake my head.

“No worries, I can handle it I think” I assure him and he gets out of the car. I shut the door behind me and we walk next to each other in comfortable silence. He seems a bit tense but when nothing happens and no one tries to stop him, he relaxes a bit.

“So tell me, what happened to Anna? She told me yesterday, that she is feeling so much better and she might be able to go home? I thought she was on the edge of dying when I visited her the first time” he asks while he leads me towards the little café.

“There are moments when those miracles happen and I try to not question them too much. Her bloodwork is great, she doesn’t need more chemo and she feels better. Her vitals are really great. This might be a miracle but to be honest, we should appreciate it as long as it is possible” I explain and walk through the open door into the café. We find a table in the corner and he pulls my chair, so I can sit.

“So you think she might get sick again?”

“It is possible. At this point, no one can say yes or no. I will do my best to let her go in a few days and give her some time at home with her friends and family. But I try to not let it get too close to me” I reply and he nods while he hands me the menu.

“I hope the best for her. Maybe you can keep me updated” he asks me and I agree to nod. I decide to get a normal coffee and a blueberry scone.

When our order arrives we dig into the food and I immediately know why it is his favourite café. The food is excellent and even the coffee seems to be better than other coffees.

“This is really good,” I say and he smiles at me. He got a cinnamon roll and seems to enjoy it as well.

“I´m glad you like it. Their cinnamon roll is the best I ever ate” he declares and I giggle.

“That’s a huge compliment from someone who has probably eaten in the whole world”

“You want to taste it? Then you will see that it is the best” he holds his fork with a piece of that roll into my direction and I nod, eating from Harry Styles´ fork and I close my eyes in awe. This is the best cinnamon roll I ever ate.

I nod and he smiles delighted that I agree.

“It´s great. Wow. Thanks for showing me this place, I´m sure I will come back some time” I assure him and he takes a sip from his coffee.

“I don’t share those special places with anybody but I think you deserve the best. I appreciate the work you are doing so much, I am so impressed how you handle all this and I can´t believe anyone takes this for granted. You and your team should get an award, you are the real heroes” he says and I try not to choke on my scone. I am very much touched by his words and I honestly don’t know where to look.

“Thank you, I think it is normal to us because we love what we do. We don’t need an award…a simple thank you and some smiles on those kids faces, that’s why I do this” I reply and take my cup in my hands.

“But you sacrifice so much, please don’t get me wrong…but someone who tries to make others happy should be happy themself. What would make you happy? Maybe I can give something back” he asks and I shake my head.

“No, no it´s fine. I am happy, I really am” he looks at me and licks his lips, to get all the cinnamon and sugar.

“I have some time off, so if you would like…I could come and play and sing with the kids. It would be a pleasure and I absolutely don’t mind it” he proposes and I truly don’t know what to say. It’s a very kind offer from a very busy man like him.

“If you want to, sure. I am happy when the kids are happy” I agree and he bites his lip, what I find very sexy.

“Great, I will contact you if you don’t mind”

“I don’t. Soooo…it´s already 3 pm and we still need to get my car. How long do you want to spend time with me?” I ask him and look at my phone.

“If you want to leave, we can go immediately…shit I think I got spotted” he whispers and I am clever enough to not turn around as he tries to hide behind me.

“Are you Harry Styles? You are, right? Do you mind, if we take a picture with you?” a young girl asks next to our table and eyes me sceptical. Harry smiles friendly and gets up to chat with them and take a picture. After they left he pays for our order and is eager to leave the place. Maybe he knows that when he was spotted once, there will be more fans in no time. I hurry after him and as we are a few streets away he gets a bit slower.

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly but I know how fast they are. By now we would have been swarmed and I don’t want that right now…we can get your car or take a walk in the park if you like” he suggests and I nod. Sounds great.

“A walk seems to be nice, we have a lot of time left, so no hurry with getting my car” we walk next to each other, chatting about anything that comes to mind. He tells me about his family and friends back in Manchester and I listen very interested. His mom sounds lovely from his stories and at this point, I am just happy that I met him at the gas station.

“It is lovely spending time with you, Y/N,” he says and smiles at me.

“Likewise, I never thought I would spend time with you after our first meeting. But I´m glad we do, you are easy to be around and I kind of like you” I confess and giggle a bit.

“I appreciate it very much, that you are accepting me in your life and I have the feeling you don’t mind me having in it? Or am I completely wrong and this is just your average kind of being nice?” he asks a bit concerned and unsure.

“I don’t mind having you in my life, not at all. And no, you are not wrong” I can see his happy smile and follow him at his side across the park.

A few weeks later during my shift, I can see Harry sitting amidst a lot of kids with his guitar and singing with them. They love having him around and he loves entertaining them. Anna was able to go home and I promised to come visit her soon. The last days have been really exhausting, we have a few very critical patients and I had to tell their parents that it´s only a matter of weeks.

Harry comes here as often as he can and I am very thankful that he spends his rare time with all of my children. We usually don’t spend much time together but when I have the opportunity I stop and listen to him telling stories or singing to them. When he notices me, he smiles at me and I return it gladly. I know that he won´t come here forever, he has a job and soon he will be gone because of promotion and recordings and tour. But he never mentioned it, when he walks me to my car after my shift.

A soft knock on my door jerks me out of my thoughts and I look up, seeing Harry in the doorway.

“Hey, can I come in or is it bad timing?” he asks politely but I don’t mind it at all.

“No, it´s fine. Come in, you alright?” I reply and watch him, as he sits down in front of my desk.

“Yes, I love being here seeing the kids smile but I noticed something…” he says concerned and I sit up straight.

“What? Is something wrong with one of the kids?” I start to panic, that I haven’t noticed. I get up and walk around the desk to get to the door, but Harry holds me back by grabbing my wrist.

“They are alright but are you too? You hardly smile and you look tired and exhausted, can I do something for you?” he asks and I meet his soft green eyes. I relax a little and lean against my desk his hand still wrapped around my wrist.

“I´m alright. Just a bit tired but nothing I haven’t handled before plus I have a free weekend ahead of me. The first one in three months” I answer and see him smiling.

“Free weekend, huh? How about…I try and make it the most relaxed weekend in your life? I just want you to feel good and we haven’t spent much time in the last weeks” he requests and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“And what are you picturing?”

“Hmm maybe me cooking some dinner for you, watching a movie, getting a massage and not worrying about anything. How does that sound?” his eyes are shimmering with hope and I chuckle. It sounds great but what if it gets really awkward? I have never been to his house or the other way round. We usually just hang out in a café or here, this is kind of a next step.

“I´d love to do that but…I don’t want it to be awkward honestly” I say and he entwines our fingers.

“It won´t, I promise” his voice is low and deep and touches me like velvet.

“Okay” I agree and he squeezes my hand lightly.

“Great, I´ll pick you up after your shift?” he sounds really excited and I grin at him while I nod in agreement.

Part V

Hey guys,

sorry for the delay and lack of posting. I hope you are still here and enjoy my newest chapter. Please send all your love or hate, I´ll take it.

You can still be added to the taglist for this story, if you want. Don´t be shy.

Love, Julia xx

Taglist:

@wotamelonsugar @lanallaa @highladyofelfhame-remastered @lucky-worm @theresthingsthatwellneverknow

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles FF #Harry Styles blurb #Harry Styles Oneshot #Harry Styles Fanfic #Harry Styles fluff #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #one direction oneshot #1dff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

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veiledpeaches · 4 years

Text

chance encounters | part v: in a parallel universe we could have been something

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 5.9k

for @donsjae, who always reminds me to prioritize myself and my health. thank you for our conversation that day, and thank God for you <3

GIF originally posted by @lukhei

Most relationships, whether familial, friendly or romantic, are built on shared passions or a sense of connection, but the relationship lasts because of an understanding of limits - the implicit understanding that no matter how close, there are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. At times, this reasoning extends to the belief that every individual has personal land mines, and it is not until we are covered in cinders, splinters and snow-like ashes, that we recognize the propensity for that person to explode catastrophically.

It has never occurred to Haewon that there could be such a line to be crossed between her and Johnny, until he presses her up against the sink and covers her lips with his own.

Almost as quickly as he kisses her, Johnny pulls apart, his eyes wide.

She takes in his striking brown eyes, the strong line of his jaw that sets, an uneasy laugh escaping from her lips.

“You know, no one really appreciates pity kisses.”

Johnny relaxes, taking a deep breath. His eyes softens, never leaving her face.

“This isn’t pity.”

“Johnny, what are you doing?” She stops him before he leans in again, panic arresting her chest as she watches his face fall.

“I’m sorry.” He averts his eyes, the warmth of his arms retracted as he steps away from her.

“W-What… Why…”

“I don’t know! I mean… Look, I know you and Doyoung are like, great…”

Her mind is whirling at a mile a minute. “Isn’t that what you were rooting for just yesterday?”

“I know, I know, I just!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, refusing to look at her as he keeps talking, “I can’t help but think, I mean, I… Won’t we be good together?”

Her heart sinks. “Johnny, you just broke up days ago. You’re not thinking straight.”

“No,” he shakes his head, still not looking at her as he swallows, “This isn’t what you’re thinking of. I have been thinking about it for a while-”

“Stop,” her voice straddles the line between a whisper and a shout as she turns away from him, her hands gripping the countertop even tighter this time, but for a completely different reason. “Please, don’t. Please.”

She hears him take a step closer, his finger gently meeting the back of her arm and trailing downwards, almost nostalgically. At his touch, she finds the knot in her stomach letting, and she doesn’t have enough energy left in her to pull away.

She doesn’t want to pull away. This is her friend, this is what they are, have always been. This wasn’t the way the story should’ve been written.

“Is it Doyoung?”

God, Doyoung.

She shakes her head, affixing her gaze on a small stain on the countertop that had never been really cleaned off properly through the years.

If you leave a stain uncleaned for too long, her mother used to tell her, someday it’ll become permanent. And then the more you wipe at it, the more it stares right back at you.

“It’s not Doyoung,” she forces herself to speak again, turning around to face him.

“It’s us.”

She watches his face as he bites his trembling lip, his eyes two abysses she could not fall into.

“You’re the closest friend I have-”

“You mean to say,” his voice is wobbly as he speaks, “you’ve never considered this before? Ever?”

This time, it’s her jaw that quavers.

To say yes would be misleading, but to say no and shut that down completely would be untruthful. Once, many years ago, when she’d just arrived in Seoul, there was a time where Haewon contemplated pursuing something that could bloom between them. But as quickly as that thought had come, it had been just as quickly displaced with another thought - louder and more fervent than the first - ‘he’s all you have here’. The circumstances that had made her move had been less than ideal, and to repeat the same mistake with another man - a man as brilliant as Johnny - would be unthinkable.

As even more time had passed, when notions of “type” and “meant to be” had entered their conversations, the vast differences in their approach to dating and relationships had made anything potentially happening between them simply unimaginable, and she had gently scoffed at her earlier consideration, burying it in the deepest recesses of her mind.

Until now.

“If you can’t answer that… Maybe the absence of an answer is an answer in itself.”

She shakes her head even harder, taking his hands in hers and urging him to look at her, her gaze chasing after his, “Johnny, I can’t lose you. Not you. You know I love you-”

Johnny finally looks up, tears shining in his eyes but the look on his face is defiant, almost angry. “Don’t do that.”

“I can’t lose you, Johnny, you’re all I have here. Could you possibly understand?”

He drops her hands as if he has just been burned, stepping away from her completely as he walks away wordlessly, his tall body growing smaller and smaller as he walks down the bedroom corridor, the gravity of their situation reverberating even after he had shut the door and she could no longer see him.

Johnny has not left his room since this morning, and Haewon has not stopped worrying. It isn’t like Johnny to hide himself away when things happen, because he is the kind of person who wants to talk about everything. She remembers how their three-hour heartfelt conversation had gone when Aoi had broken up with him, the way he had tirelessly listed every single part of her he would miss.

Squatting in front of his room door, she slips a note under the door, seconds before the door is flung open and there he stands, in his six-feet tall glory towering over her crouched figure, looking sort of judgmental.

The ink on the paper that reads “I made all your favorites for lunch!!!” suddenly seems gaudier than usual, and she has half a mind to snatch it back and shred it.

He looks at the paper. “What are we, fifth graders?”

She pulls her lips into a straight line, shaking her head without looking at him.

“Don’t be weird.” Johnny says petulantly, pulling her up from her position on the floor.

“You’re weird.”

“You cried.” His voice remains almost factual, but still slightly hoarse.

“So? You cried too.”

“Yeah but I cry suitably, like a healthy, emotionally-thriving person. You never cry.” He says, but he doesn’t argue further. This is the first time he has seen her with bloodshot eyes, and he is lying if he says it does not clench his heart. Further, to be the cause of that expression has never been a fantasy of his, but he holds these thoughts in his head, taking a seat at the dining table and starting to eat like nothing has happened.

Haewon wipes her eyes with the back of her hand quickly and takes her seat.

“For the record, I’m not hurt.” He pipes, gesturing with his chopsticks, “I expected it. And I’m thirty-two years old, so don't treat me like glass.”

She nods, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Her mind flashes back to the sight of a teary-eyed Johnny when the girl from Haewon’s gym had told him that she just wanted to be friends after two dates, but she lets it slide.

He licks his lips, “I was just being dramatic… You know, the usual.”

There are so many girls out there, Johnny will start dating again in no time, she thinks. Then all of this would be forgotten and he would feel much better. Despite knowing Johnny would be fine, that it is not likely that his feelings had become that deep over such a short period of time, she finds herself reaching forward to hold his fingers in her hand.

Johnny’s eyes land on their entwined fingers for a moment, before he balances his chopsticks on his bowl and holds her hand in a tighter grasp.

He sighs emphatically. “Hey, it’s fine. I’m okay. It’s not the end of the world. I’ve been rejected before, it’s nothing new. And just so you know, I didn’t cry because I was rejected, I just… I felt like I screwed up what we had.”

She starts to shake her head, but Johnny continues, “Just know that, it’s all good. By tomorrow I’ll be completely fine, okay?”

Her bottom lip is still under her teeth when she nods, so Johnny ruffles her hair comfortingly.

“Anyway, since you rejected me and made me all cry-ey…”

Haewon’s eyes widen.

But Johnny’s expression is sheepish, “can I exploit your pity and make you cook dinner too?”

This draws a laugh from her, “of course.”

True to his word, the next morning and then for the next two months, Johnny does not raise the subject anymore. Everything slows down back into a routine again, and Haewon is relieved to know that the rapport between them remains more or less the same. Johnny still goes on dates, still works hard on everyday except Friday, and tries to be okay around her. Haewon focuses on preparing for her move to the states, continues to feel things for her former boss, and tries to show Johnny that everything is okay.

As for Doyoung, conversations with him are few and far less, with most of them skirting around the same issues; their work, him being a workaholic and her hardly planned departure. They don’t talk feelings, don’t talk about the unspoken agreement that had latched another perforated layer to their relationship.

There is no need for deeper conversation, not when Haewon is leaving in two months, and especially not when there is more to be risked and lost.

So Haewon finds herself dreading the possibility of running into Doyoung as the ‘ding’ sound of the lift is heard at the twelfth floor, the papers in her hand slightly crinkled from her tight grip. DAM-IL PUBLISHING CO. flashes in her periphery as she scans her temporary access card from the guard house, making a beeline for Jeno’s desk.

It’s nine o’clock, so no one with any semblance of a life would be caught dead in the office, but Haewon cannot say she is surprised when she catches the faint glow of Doyoung’s desk lamp beyond the translucent glass, allowing her gaze to fall on the silhouette on the chair.

For more than three years, walking into the office to be greeted with this sight… Perhaps this is one of the things she would miss most about being here, the simultaneous rush of excitement and sense of comfort she would feel when their eyes met through the glass.

“Haewon?” She hears his voice and freezes, before giving up and walking into his inner office.

Doyoung’s tie is lying on his desk next to a pile of papers, his dress shirt is slightly unbuttoned and his head is against the headrest of the chair as he looks up at her when she enters, exhaustion making his eyelids seem heavier than usual.

“Boss, it’s late, what’re you doing here?”

“Just looking through some stuff.”

Haewon’s eyes gloss over the papers, immediately recognizing the familiar scrawl on the yellow post-it stuck at the top.

“These are... This is my work.” She frowns. “I thought I handed it over to Jeno.”

Doyoung’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I thought I should look over it too. I... I didn’t realise how reliant I had become, on you.”

Their eyes meet for a moment, before Haewon coughs and looks away.

“Do you need anything?”

She gestures vaguely towards the outside of his office. “I just came to get some things I left here, on Jeno’s desk.”

“How’s the preparation coming along?”

“Logistically? All good. Saying goodbye?” She shrugs, “pretty damn hard.”

Doyoung laughs heartily, his short, breathy laughs faintly reminiscent of arpeggios in staccato.

“I understand, leaving is the hardest thing.”

Haewon smiles, but she cannot concur. She had spent her teen years in four different states due to various reasons until her family finally settled back in Chicago again. She has found a familiarity in disappearing, the safety in belonging to nothing and nowhere, never being comfortable to stay for long. And with all the traveling she’s done her whole life, even state lines blur. Roads meander similarly and street signs just read differently but in the same font. Sunset views start to converge with each other and in the end, they are all the same.

That’s why moving halfway across the world - a decision that would have taken someone else an indefinite amount of time to decide - had not fazed her. Given a job and a life open for her in Seoul, why wouldn’t she be open to it, when she had pretty much been living her life the same way, taking any opportunity to pull the brakes and reverse out of the situation once she has hit the end of the road?

Leaving was easy. It was everything else that was just so damned hard.

“Anyway,” Doyoung says after a while, drawing her out of her reverie, “take your time, I’ll be here for a while.”

Nodding, she returns to the desk, pulling a manila envelope and some congratulatory cards she had received from past clients from the bottom drawer, where Jeno said he would leave them.

Flipping through the documents in the envelope, Haewon misses the way his gaze lingers on her shoulders from inside his office, misses the way he gets out of his seat after a minute, misses the way he strides quietly but resolutely towards her turned back, but doesn’t miss the way he wraps his arms around her, his lips just behind her ear.

Whether he knows this well or not, Doyoung has an unquestionable talent for rendering Haewon speechless.

“Boss—”

“Don’t say anything. Please.” Doyoung’s voice is soft and sounds even lower than it usually is, as he holds her even more tightly in his arms.

She feels the familiar prick of tears in her eyes, but swallows them back with the knot in her throat. It’s not that she doesn’t know that on some level, she has an effect on him. But that effect — and the extent of it — remains unaddressed, and Haewon has taught herself not to cling on to any shred of hope.

Her fingers find their grasp on his forearms as she relaxes and listens to his soft breathing, letting her heartbeat slow down into the same rhythm as his now. Save for the sympathetic whirring of the air-conditioner, the room is completely quiet, and it is only now that Haewon allows herself to revel in the silence, in the arms of the man she is held by. With the press of his arms around his waist and his heartbeat against her back, it feels like they can almost believe that the impending dates and unyielding timeline of their relationship momentarily cease to exist.

But as he nuzzles his face into the place where her shoulder and neck meet, Haewon realizes that even the best show comes to an end, and the curtains will fall eventually. Because no matter how big a step this is for Doyoung, it would never be enough for her.

There’s a familiarity in disappearing, and maybe the silence is what Doyoung needs right now, but Haewon can’t wait forever if there isn’t an end in sight. For a few months after her confession, she had thought that she would be fine with letting her questions find a space in the vast proverbial grey area, but she knows now that it is no longer an answer she can accept.

And if Doyoung had said something, anything, Haewon wouldn’t think twice about hanging up her running shoes to build a home in his arms.

“I told you people would come,” Johnny smirks, taking the marinated meat out of the freezer. “Free food, free booze - anyone would come.”

It’s the night before Haewon’s departure, and Johnny had organized a small farewell party with her closer co-workers at the last minute. They had made a bet that very few people would turn up given the eleventh hour invitations, but somehow Johnny had managed to convince most of them.

“They’re too nice to say no,” Haewon says, bringing the food to the barbecue grill at the balcony, smiling at Kim Jungwoo and Lee Donghyuck entering the apartment with a bottle of wine.

There’s tipsy chatter from her former colleagues all around her, as Lauv sings about getting what you give and giving what you get in the background. A smiling Jeno offers to start the barbeque, and Haewon’s about to thank him when she hears someone shouting from across the apartment jokingly, “Hey! Who invited the boss to the party?”

Doyoung’s still in his usual work suit, but somehow looks softer than usual, his fringe sweeping across his forehead, looking all sorts of handsome. His eyes are tired but amused as he lifts his eyebrows comically upon seeing Haewon’s slightly agape mouth.

“Doyoung!”

From the corner of her eye, she finds Johnny standing right next to her with a wide smile on his face, Jeno suddenly nowhere to be found.

Haewon turns towards him, “you invited Doyoung?”

“You were planning to have a farewell party without Doyoung?” Johnny frowns, replying in an equally hushed tone.

Haewon lets her eyes fall on the sizzling fire beneath the wire grill silently, the flames lapping excitedly at the charcoal, until the marinated slices of beef sits on it.

“I know stuff happened between you guys, but don’t you feel you owe each other a decent goodbye?”

“We have said our goodbyes.”

“On text? He wasn’t even there on your last week.”

Haewon hasn’t told Johnny about her encounter with Doyoung in the office a few nights ago, the way his jaw had settled on her shoulder, her skin still tingling from the warmth of his hug. It’s less about Johnny’s non-judgmental friendship compared to how there’s no express need to externalize her hopeful thoughts on an embrace that fell short of a promise.

It feels more like a scene in a movie than real life when Doyoung walks towards her in dramatic slow-motion and envelopes her in a hug, everyone at the party clapping and whopping. Haewon’s about to push away, when she realizes she has become so paranoid to the extent of not being able to recognize this simple greeting for what it is - a farewell, well-intentioned professional hug from a former supervisor to a former employee.

“Speech, boss, speech!” Lee Donghyuck’s voice is almost booming, closely followed by echoes of the same request.

Doyoung laughs, taking the glass of white wine Johnny offers timely.

“Okay, okay! So… Well, I’d like to start by saying that this farewell is, to me as I’m sure it is to all of you, bittersweet. Haewon has been with us for more than three years now, a huge testament to her patience given how ‘easy’ I am to work with,” he chuckles when he hears a joking ‘who let the cat out of the bag’ in the small crowd.

“I first met Haewon through a recommendation from a mutual friend - yes, Johnny, everyone knows it’s you - and I can’t be more thankful that I could make this decision for her to join us. She is a great asset to the team, an amazing creative artist and writer, and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for her.”

His eyes meet Haewon’s, and she doesn’t dare to look away.

“Haewon, I hope that nothing ever stands in the way of your dreams. I hope you’ll always have the courage and strength to do whatever you’re called to.”

The atmosphere now is almost still, and she can’t tell if her eyes are lying to her, or if his eyes are getting a little misty.

“So… Let’s raise our glasses to Haewon!”

There’s cheering and polite applause, but Haewon can’t concentrate on anything else as she watches Doyoung down all the contents of his glass and then smile as he exits her line of vision. Perhaps it’s now more clear than ever, Doyoung’s personal intentions behind those words, but as Haewon bites down the lump rising in her throat, raw and throbbing, she finds it difficult to continue believing in the power of believing, unsure of how much is real and how much has been conjured by the blindness of a scaffold, the scaffold of rose-tinted glasses.

“When the timing isn’t right, neither is the man.”

Haewon swivels around, meeting Yuta’s piteous gaze. It feels like something’s lodged in her throat again, and her voice cracks as she says, “y-you knew?”

“I’ve been sitting behind you for three years, Haewon. I could tell you loved writing more than all our work at the office, how could I not know you’re in love with him?”

Tears rush to her eyes, but even as she blinks them away it’s like there are seven Yuta’s looking indulgently at her.

“But you’re still so young, you need to experience the world…” He smiles, “‘so many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.’”

She chuckles tearfully, “Tennyson.”

“I’ve never been a fan, but he was the one who said, ‘’tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’, which I think is fair.”

“I know you want him – enough that you’re even thinking of rescinding on the Brown offer. But you can’t put life on hold, Haewon, especially not for boss.”

Johnny would say he’s not the least surprised, but it’s unexpected to her that Doyoung outstays everyone - even Yuta, after a long conversation with him at the corner of their balcony. Haewon keeps herself busy, smiling as her ex-colleagues give her their last handshake and shoulder squeeze before they bid their final goodbyes with best wishes and promises to stay in touch.

It’s close to midnight and she’s almost done washing the dishes when she feels Doyoung’s fingers against her elbow.

His gaze is still on her elbow as she turns to face him.

“Can we go somewhere else to talk?”

It would be much later, before Haewon can bring herself to admit that she was entirely aware of what the outcome would be upon stepping into Doyoung’s car.

It’s not that she doesn’t know that on some level, she has a place in Doyoung’s head, if not his heart. The suppressed emotions all these years have better equipped her in presenting herself differently from how she feels, but the ability to pitch and hold two different sets of emotions doesn’t help her anymore now than it did pre-confession. Instead, in a self-induced, partially aware stupor, Haewon recognizes that she is less in a state of oscillation than she is in the state of desiring a reconciliation between two duelling thoughts - the voice that cries, “what if he wants to be with you?” and that which cries, “what if he does not?”

As for now, she just sits in the passenger seat, her hands and lap empty this time. It’s been almost ten minutes since Doyoung has reached their destination, the same place he had confessed to her about what had happened with Inhee. This time, the atmosphere is thicker than before, unexpressed implications heavy on their skin. The air has become a tad cooler than many nights before, and the lights on the bridge and over the water still remain. But this time, the road is a lot quieter, with no other headlights, not many streetlights - nothing that could have been mistaken for constellations.

This time, they do not leave the car. There’s no need for alcohol, for cigarettes, for anything that could be blamed for foolishness.

“Oh! Here,” Doyoung exclaims lightly, reaching to the backseat to grab something, which Haewon only recognizes as a book when it’s in her hands.

CHANCE ENCOUNTERS by CHO YOUNG-JUN, the book reads, with a picture of a cat on a ledge looking at the biggest moon Haewon has ever seen, a style so characteristic of Nakamoto Yuta that it brings a smile to Haewon’s face. She remembers how Cho Young Jun had insisted on the details of the visual, and how it had to look like a pencil sketch, a metaphor for how a life is never really finished even when someone else’s role in that life has, how everyone is a guest star on another person’s stage.

“He wanted you to have one of the first published copies,” Doyoung explains, “he said it was a pity that you couldn’t see it to the end, and that it would be a bigger pity if he couldn’t give one to you himself.”

“He’s a good kid,” she nods, “thank you. But how did you know I’d get into the car with you?”

Doyoung’s expression is abashed, “let’s just say I got lucky.”

She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Doyoung says finally, “truthfully, I couldn’t decide whether I should come or not.”

She laughs again, but it sounds more resigned than amused. “You didn’t wanna say goodbye to me?”

Doyoung falls completely silent, so silent that it forces Haewon to look at him as he speaks, “I can’t say goodbye to you.”

“Not you.”

She feels the tell-tale warmness in her eyes, but swallows and manages to collect herself as she turns away.

“Well you made it,” she says lamely.

“I had to,” she can feel his eyes on her face as his voice grows quieter but more insistent, “I had to see you one last time before you leave, or I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.”

“Because… You were wrong.”

“What?”

“You were wrong.” His eyes are twinkling as he speaks again, “when you said that my engagement wasn’t the only thing standing in the way of something happening between us.”

It feels like all the air has been robbed from her lungs once the words leave his lips, her eyes searching his face desperately for a sign that this is a joke, that he’s about to pull away like he has every time. But Doyoung is here, and under the lights in the car he’s unfamiliarly close, her eyes falling on the beautiful freckles on his cheeks and then the small scar at the corner of his mouth, before resting on his soft pink lips. This sudden and indisputable closeness seems to make all other distance irrelevant, and it is this closeness that she tries to concentrate on - not that it might be fleeting, a feeling she knows only too well - as Doyoung pulls her from across the console onto his lap and presses his lips against hers.

There is a recklessness to the way Doyoung kisses, a sense of abandon that has been concealed for too long. She feels it in the movement of his lips, in the firmness of his fingers against her jaw, in the way he pulls her even more tightly against him when her own fingers card through his hair before slipping down to settle on his nape. A stray tear escapes her eye, finding a place on his thumb and he kisses her even harder. Doyoung kisses the way he lives, sure and intentional and wanting to regret nothing, and even as his lips leave hers they travel across the line of her jaw and down her neck, giving everything he has and asking for nothing back.

But as soon as her arms wrap around his shoulders, Doyoung is pushing away again, his head shaking so vigorously that it brings tears to her eyes instantly.

“W-Why?”

His face contorts painfully as his lips close over the words, “you’re leaving tomorrow, we can’t do this.”

Her eyes are burning with tears, and it no longer fazes her as they slip from her eyes.

“Don’t make it sound like this is about me,” her voice is tight, “you were the one who held me first, at the office. And then those things you said, every single thing you’ve said since I tendered. And now, you kissed me first.”

“I know…” His eyes are sparkling with tears as well as he stills his trembling lip, “I’m sorry, Haewon. It kills me to see you like this.”

“You’re playing with me…”

Even as the words leave her, she knows how unfair they are.

“I’m not!” He shakes his head furiously, “I swear, I’m not. I would never do that to you.”

“It’s not about how you feel!” She isn’t shouting, but she might as well be, “It’s about how you act! You can’t say things like that without thinking, Doyoung, you know that I’m in love with you.”

Doyoung is as much of a mess as she is, his eyes red and his cheeks wet, and his voice has faded into a whisper when his mouth opens again, “but I can’t, Haewon, I can’t.”

At these words, she finds herself unable to speak, unable to do anything except to wait for him to continue.

“I can’t just run from the arms of one person into those of another. I can’t promise you anything or ask anything of you. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

Her eyelids feel heavier with every blink of the eye, distributed almost like a telephone line she can no longer connect. Giving up, she shuts her eyes, trying to hold more tears in and not let them escape.

It is only now that she realizes what would later seem obvious. That it doesn’t matter what she said, how carefully she crafted her arguments, even if she uses every tool of persuasion she has mastered over the years. There is only one thing that really matters, now and always, and this is it.

She’s leaving tomorrow, and he can’t give her anything. It wouldn’t be fair to him, because even if he has feelings for her, there are bigger things at large. And it’s this thought that she wrestles with - the weight of having too much of him, and yet, never enough. She’s leaving tomorrow, and it wouldn’t be fair to put another log on that fire.

For the longest time, her feelings have been hidden away, out of sight, forbidden and shameful. But even now, even when Doyoung is no longer engaged, no longer her superior and they are no longer surrounded by people, his love seems so out of reach.

Perhaps, it will always remain that way.

This is it, she thinks. But even with the heaviness that comes with finality, even as a fresh bout of tears come, she cannot be sure who she is crying for. For her weakness, for Doyoung’s brokenness, or perhaps, just for what they will miss.

“You know what you’re doing, right?”

She is brought out of her daze at once, Johnny’s words only registering seconds later. She looks at him for a moment, wondering how he could have known, belatedly realizing that he’s only talking about travel arrangements. Johnny had been in his room when she had reached home last night, to her relief. She definitely would not have wanted him to see her eyes bloated from crying.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She grins up at him, “I’ve been there before, I think I’ll manage. Besides, my Mom insisted on flying in to spend time with me before I start for real.”

Johnny nods thoughtfully, checking once more that she has her passport and air ticket.

“We’ve checked so many times, John,” she snatches her passport back almost childishly, “I’ll be fine, please don’t worry. Any last words?”

“I would say ‘I’ll miss you’, but you promised to come back every semester break.”

“That’s all?” Her jaw drops in mock betrayal.

Johnny laughs, his hands finding their place on her shoulder. “Is brevity not the soul of wit?”

She rolls her eyes and they smile at each other for a while, but then he catches her hopeful glances around, and his hands on her shoulders squeeze gently, his face turning serious.

“I don’t think he’s coming, Haewon-ah.”

There’s something within her that she cannot find a name for, but she is certain it isn’t just sadness, certain that it isn’t that devoid of regret and self-deprecation.

“It’s okay,” she releases a smile, unsure if she is comforting herself or Johnny. “Not all seeds were meant to grow into big trees anyway.”

Johnny sighs emphatically, “I’m sorry. I really thought something was going to happen when you left with him last night.”

Her mind flashes to the messes they made of each other last night, their bodies pressed against each other but their lives and futures already seven thousand miles apart. There is a place in my head that he will always inhabit, she thinks to herself, a place that no longer belongs to me, but I will learn to be okay with that.

She shrugs, “I know. But it’s just… We kept missing each other, you know? It was never the right time.”

He nods sympathetically, and then his expression changes at a certain memory.

“Listen Haewonnie, I wanted to… I wanted to apologize as well, before you go. What I did that morning was… stupid. Would you for-”

“Hey,” she pulls his hands into hers, “you don’t need to apologize for anything, John. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you know I love you, and you mean more to me than anyone else here.”

He nods again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Too bad for you. I’m somewhat of a catch.”

She laughs adoringly, smiling so wide with her eyes so warm. She knows he’s joking, but she also knows that if they were still in Chicago, if he hadn’t left all those years ago and Haewon hadn’t come to Seoul, it is conceivable that she would eventually fall in love with Johnny. His personality is so similar to the guys she dated back in America - only taller, more handsome and even brighter. And much, much better.

Johnny looks at her dotingly for a moment, before he opens his arms wide for her to step into his warm embrace. His palm closes gently over her ponytail, and she relaxes in his arms. This is Johnny, one of the only people in the world she trusts so wholeheartedly, and she knows how much he cherishes her, and how much she will miss him.

So she pulls him more tightly towards her, dreading the moment she would finally have to let go.

She’s halfway across the Pacific when she remembers the book Doyoung had given her the night before, oddly thankful that she has something to read on the way there. She tries to tune out the parent quietly admonishing their child about kicking people’s chairs on the plane, the rolling of the beverage cart and the old man mumbling behind her, as she flips the book open, eager to start.

Instead, she feels her heart swell impossibly, because written on the first page in penmanship that couldn’t be anyone’s but Doyoung’s, is a short line:

If my answer changes one day, would you still save me a seat?

w/n: i hope this longass update was worth the wait! was uncharacteristically busy with life these couple of weeks, hence the late drop. hope it’s ok! (yes i know i’m incredibly draggy, i’m a soap opera kind of girl.)

just one more part left!! would be really grateful if you could reblog this post if you enjoyed it!

COME SCREAM AT/WITH ME!! ask

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heronwritingx · 4 years

Text

chapter 3

I am really enjoying writing this and well here is chapter 3 because it’s all ive been doing. heathney is such a cute couple and I adore them and I want to write more of them all the time. pls enjoy.

Heather took a deep breath and curled her fingers into a fist, forcing herself to knock on the door of Courtney’s home. Courtney had insisted they went there as her family was away for the weekend and she had the equipment to make posters and buttons and god knows what else. Courtney was over the top and she was going to do anything to win, her posters were always professional and incredible looking but Heather thought it was too much. She really didn’t want to be there; she had been dreading the day from the moment it was planned.

A part of her was nervous too, she had not yet come to understand why her heart felt that way in the cafe. Courtney had always caught her attention, Heather wouldn’t deny that, but that was because of their rivalry. This moment in particular was different though and Heather knew it. It was something she’d never experienced, and she didn’t know how to react to it. So, for now, she was just going to ignore it and hope it didn’t happen again.

“Ugh, finally! Took you long enough!” Courtney whined as she opened the door.

“It’s five past ten.” Heather retorted bluntly, “I’m literally five minutes late.”

“I said ten, not ten o’ five!” Courtney snapped, folding her arms.

“I’ll leave then.” Heather went to turn around, but Courtney quickly grabbed her wrist, not letting her leave.

Courtney had to give in, she couldn’t lose Heather. Heather was her key to winning, she was her key to becoming president. Courtney hated it, she hated that she needed her.

“Sorry, sorry, come in.” Courtney grumbled, tugging on Heather’s arm to enter the doorway.

Heather followed her through her home, it was cold and empty and Heather didn’t like that it didn’t feel too different from her own home. The house felt hollow and lacked any sort of personality. She followed Courtney upstairs and into her bedroom, Courtney leading her in and shutting the door behind her. On the desk and floor was everything Heather expected: Piles of art papers, markers, highlighters and black liners, blank buttons and a machine to make them, EVERYTHING. It was ridiculous. Heather wanted to leave even more, she did not want to be in that room making campaign posters and buttons and knowing Courtney, baked goods.

“Let’s get this over with.” Heather muttered, taking a seat in Courtney’s desk chair.

“Can you sound a little more excited? You want to take down Noah just as much as I do.” Courtney said, huffing.

Heather stopped herself from rolling her eyes and prompted Courtney to begin, she just had to hold her tongue for a few hours and she could leave. Courtney moved to her bed and grabbed three posters that she’d already designed, along with two button designs.

“I know your favourite colour is red, so I thought that would go well with gold and white,” Courtney explained, holding up the first poster that she had made.

“How did you know that?” Heather interjected, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Everything you own is red, your car, nails, pens, you make it obvious.” Courtney waved off her comment and turned back to the poster.

Heather was still surprised Courtney had noticed that about her but when she thought about it, Heather did make it obvious red was her favourite colour. She quickly refocused and turned her attention back to the posters Courtney had made.

“What we need to do is we need to put a picture of both of us, as well as a good slogan, which we need to come up with.” Courtney said.

“A slogan? I didn’t need a slogan to get ahead of you.” Heather frowned, “I think we’ll be fine without one.”

Courtney glared at her for a moment but continued, this time showing a badge with the same colour scheme along with “VOTE FOR COURTNEY + HEATHER”. Courtney had clearly put a lot of effort into the badges and posters, Heather was almost impressed. She was winning without much effort before Noah came along. She had always noticed Courtney’s posters and badges, she always saw it as sort of desperate and pathetic but now Heather could see her drive, her passion towards wanting to win. It was fascinating, Heather was competitive, and she wanted to win but Courtney was on another level when it came to this presidency. Heather ran her cheer team like a sergeant, there was a reason her squad so winning – Courtney reminded her of that drive.

“I like the colour scheme,” Heather said, standing up. “but it’s boring. Your posters are boring, they’re so serious and don’t catch people’s eyes.”

Courtney didn’t react for a moment as Heather took the poster and laid it on the bed, taking hold of a pencil and eraser. She began drawing over what she didn’t like and Courtney watched, interested to see what Heather was thinking.

“It’s just stripes, that’s so boring. We’re winners, we’re going to win, so we need to use something that not only catches the eye but depicts us as winners.” Heather told her, reaching into her page to pull out a pack of sparkly glitters pens, “Personally, I think we should use stars.”

“Stars could work, we could put them on the badges too.” Courtney nodded, her eyes lighting up, “We could even bake—”

“Slow down, slow down! I’m not baking and putting my damn face on it. I have an idea that’s going to work better anyway.” Heather snapped, cutting her off.

Courtney interested was peaked but Heather shushed her and let her know it was a secret, Heather and Courtney both wanted this to be spectacular and they wanted to take Noah by surprise. Heather had just the plan.

The girls sat together on Courtney’s bedroom floor and Heather was surprised she didn’t hate it as much as she thought she would. They discussed ideas back and forth and sure, Heather held her tongue sometimes and she also had to keep Courtney from going too overboard. The girl had too many ideas and wanted all of them – Heather had to ground her sometimes.

“So, are you happy with this design?” Courtney asked.

She placed the laptop on Heather’s legs and leaned in closer to her, their shoulders touching and Heather’s eyes widening. Courtney finger gingerly touched the screen as she explained the design choices, and Heather had to shake her head to focus, she had never been this close to Courtney before. She had never noticed that Courtney’s shoulders were small, and her arms were thin, or how much shorter than Heather the girl was. Her hair smelled of lavender with a hint of citrus, and Heather lost complete focus when Courtney moved to sit on her knees so she could be as close to the laptop as possible without sitting on top of Heather. Her face flushed red and Heather was just thankful Courtney was more interested on the laptop than her.

“I-It’s fine…” Heather’s voice got caught and she DID NOT know how to gain her composure for a second, she didn’t have a clue in the world why she was reacting or feeling this way and it almost took the air out of her.

“I think if it would look even better if we lined the stars and the wording with gold, that’ll really make it pop.” Courtney said, “I want to do the same to the badges but that would be too hard.”

“Yeah, that will be fine.” Heather nodded, leaning away from the girl to get some distance.

“Heather?” Courtney blinked.

“it’s fine, it’s fine, I like it…” Heather turned her head away for a moment.

Heather placed the laptop back on Courtney and quickly stood up, her heart was racing she felt so confused! She needed to get out of the room, she needed to get a grip! Her hands were shaking, and her face was red, she couldn’t even look at Courtney!

“Bathroom! I need the bathroom!” Heather blurted out.

“Oh, it’s down the hall and to the left.” Courtney instructed her.

Heather quickly left the room and ran down the hall, shutting the bathroom door and leaning against it once it was locked. What the hell was that!? Heather felt so embarrassed, so uncool…she’d never been like that ever in her life. No one had ever made her react that way! She was so embarrassed! Why did her body, her heart, her brain react that way? To Courtney of all people! Why is it pounding so much!?

“What is wrong with me?” Heather mumbled.

She couldn’t stay in there long; she didn’t want Courtney to think anything even after her weird behaviour. She just needed to calm down and get her thoughts straight. This was worse than the heart pang though, this was worse than thinking Courtney’s behaviour was cute. Heather thought Courtney was cute.

She made her way back into Courtney’s room and Courtney was sitting, still working on the posters and badges.

“Are we almost done? I’m over being here.” Heather grumbled.

“We still need to—”

“I need a bunch of badges for Monday morning, I’ll make sure we get the attention of everyone. The designs are better, I’m going home.” Heather grabbed her bag and her keys, not letting anything Courtney said stop her from leaving.

Courtney led her to the front door and Heather grumbled a goodbye, Courtney passing off her strange behaviour as Heather just…being Heather. Being left to finish the badges on her own frustrated Courtney but she wasn’t going to start an argument, Heather would have left no matter what.

Heather dropped onto her bed and placed her head into her hands, letting out a loud groan. She was still so embarrassed! What was wrong with her!? Her face flushed pink once more and her heart started to race again as Courtney lingered in her thoughts. Courtney was so close; Heather could almost count the freckles she had sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. She could see how long Courtney’s lashes were and the girl’s smile was utterly adorable and full of pride of the designs they created together.

“Stop it!” Heather shouted at herself.

She fell back onto her bed and grabbed a pillow, slamming her face into it and curling her body around it. She forced her eyes shut and she laid her alone in her thoughts, unsure of what to do. She forced herself to think of anything, anyone else until her brain shut off and she fell asleep. She woke up and it was dark, her brain fuzzy and she wasn’t sure what time or day it was. She reached for her phone and noticed a message from none other than the haunting of her thoughts herself, Courtney.

Look at how cute the badges turned out! See you on Monday. x

Heather glanced down at the picture Courtney sent and she huffed, Courtney was posing with the one of the badges with their faces and names in a star.

“So cute…” Heather mumbled, pushing her face back into the pillows.

#heathney #total drama #td heather #td courtney #heather x courtney #tdi #tdwt #tda #pls...tell me what you think

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wakandascrystal · 5 years

Text

Imagine this….Part 5

Imagine this… Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t have a baby with someone you didn’t sleep with. I can’t act like that anymore. I have something to lose now. You.”

******************

(A/N-Sorry for any spelling errors)

"So the IV drip was just to restore your energy and the shoot is filled with antibiotics. Just take these pills 3 times a day and you will be back to your old self in no time."

The nurse in front of you handed you the bottle of pills and left. Erik was at the front desk taking care of the fee of your medication.

You jumped off the table and strolled to Erik's side.

"You feeling better baby?" he asked

You shook your head and grabbed his arm. Not long you were back home sleeping in his arms.

This is all you wanted. To be at peace with him. You wanted to be sure about him and lately you werent. Even when you lay so close to his heart, so close to him you still felt like he was on another planet. Erik was an amazing man but was he good for you? All the things he said before you fall asleep were nice to hear.

He wanted you, a house, a family even children but that could all change if he changes his mind. He held power. He had control. Your future was in his hands. Cause everyone knew you were committed but all he had to show for his commitment were promises. You're about to leave college and graduate. You can't plan your life around promises. You had thoughts you would like to voice to him. You didn't want to constantly question him but at the same time you wanted to know what's really up and if he was really in your corner. Only time will tell ,your inside voice told you as you fell deeper into your slumber.

******

“Erik I have clothes. We don't need to go to the Mall.“ He kissed his lips as he turned into the parking lot.

“Its a formal meeting (y/n). Can't have you dressed all fashionNova when we meet the king.“

“Hey!! Don't drag my clothing Erik. I have formal stuff...Like that black- “

he cut you off

“- Don't tell me about that Black dress you wear everywhere. That thing is so raggedy “ He turned the car off. “ I Brought you here to buy something sexy, something formal, something that goes past your knees.“

Your mouth dropped.

“Erik, did you just call me a slut?“

“Please...black people don't use that work...I just called you a hoe.“

You slap his shoulder twice really hard and he faked a moan. You stopped thinking you have really hurt him with your nails or something.

“E you okay?“

he swiftly caught your lips with a kiss. You blushed as he pulled back and collected his keys and wallet. Ever since the morning, he's been so playful and affectionate. You liked it but a sudden change with Erik was worrisome. He even joined you in the shower.

“Why is your water boiling (y.n)??” “No, it's not. Don't be such a baby. Come give me a kiss.“ “Not until you turn the cold water on.“ “Erik My shower time ....my temperature - Period.“ He ended up staying

You touched your warm cheeks, amazed at how much effect he still had on you.

“Erik. I..” He stopped what he was doing and looked at you.

“I don't have any cash to buy something.....but you know Tinah can lead me something nice.” Erik let out a giggle.

“wait you thought you were going to pay? What kind of man would I be? Let's go I gotcha.“

“Okay.“

Erik had taken you to Gucci. You thought he wanted to look at their shoes laugh at their prices and leave but he just stood there and told to pick a dress.

“Erik I'm not buying there's ugly ass over priced rug looking dresses. I am really grateful I really am....this must be an important meeting. huh” You told him softly.

Erik nodded his head slowly. You knew what was coming. Every time Erik nodded his head slowly you knew he was going to share some personal information so you had to listened up.

“This ain't some meeting with some random Company manages or ..recruitment agencies. This is my cousin who's a mother fucking king. I don't want to look like some failure ..you know. I know I'm a man I got pride but I don't want the nigga thinking am.... charity.” His voice was low so was his head. You don't know when but you had held his hands in yours.

It hit you like a ton of bricks. All his life he saw himself as charity and he didn't want that picture to come across to his cousin. He didn't want his cousin to look down on him.

He must value this man then. If he would care what he thinks of him. Cause Erik doesn't give a shit about anyone but it seems like he does about this Man.

“Erik I know your life hasn't been great. You've went through so much but you don't give yourself the credit you deserve. You are nobodies charity. You in college and you pay for it cash. You have a car, you have nice clothes. You are doing amazing. You can’t compete with your cousin he’s a king and your a student. He owns a country and you own textbooks.“ Your heart started beating faster when he smiled at your lame joke.

“The only person you should compare yourself to is your past self... and I don't know about you but the present you is winning. Plus this is your cousin so i'm sure that is not what he will be interested in.“ He smiled again

“Come on Erik lets go.“ You pulled him out of the overpriced store and went to a cute boutique at the end of the mall. You found a nice dress and brought it with a pair of shoes and earrings. Erik also brought a black suit and tie that went with your dress. He also treated you to a malaysian hair bundle you needed to create a sleek high pony.

After that trip to the mall y'all meet up with Tinah and Malik for Dinner. You and Tinah sat at the back of Erik’s Jeep while Malik sat in the front.

“OMG i have to tell y'all something? I had a dream!“ Tinah.

“Oh no Tinah. Cut that shit out.“ Malik said

“What is she talking about Man“ Erik asked Malik

“Don't encourage her she wildin“

“Stop. We all grown and close.“

“What you mean grown and close.“ Malik turned to look at her blushing girlfriend.

“I had a dream we were swinging.“

“You embarrass me Tinah.“ Erik busted out laughing while you were stunned.

“Wait like on a swing...what i’m I messing“

“Baby she means sharing ..you know.“ Erik tried to give you a hint.

“Sharing swings seats.“

“Like a foursome. Like Erik Fucks Tinah and I fuck you.“ Malik explained

“IM NOT FUCKING YOU MALIK!!“

“I didn't say that Tinah did.“ Erik was crying with laughter at this point.

“Your not touching Erik Tinah. I mean it.“ You started to laugh as well.

“Did you see us naked or someshit“ Erik asked.

“You see what you did? Stop having thirsty dreams go swing with your white friends in Economics.“

“Nah fuck that. If you fuck a Henry i'm out Tinah im not playing.“ Malik said

Everyone laughed at Tinah's antics. After Eating Erik drove everyone home - he left you at the dom for the library to carry on studying.

A couple of days went by and the day to meet Erik's cousin came. Turns out it wasn't as professional and Formal as Erik made it out to be. He wanted to meet his cousin just like you said. His Family was important to him and he wanted Erik to know that blood will always be thicker than water. They had made reservations at a fancy hotel just outside the city by some country clubs. Erik was so excited he even took his car to a car wash the day before.

By 7:30 pm you had done your hair and makeup. Erik sat on the bed reading an article while he waited for you to finish. You got dressed in the bathroom and when you walked out he eyes went straight to you. He hadn't seen the dress on you before and quite frankly he didn't even remember any dress with everything that had happened in the past week. You looked gorgeous. The sleek high pony complimented your simply and natural makeup.

Makeup and hair:

Outfit:

You stood still and saw his face.

“Erik I know you hate it because it's long but you said he is a King so I don't want to wear my THOT clothes as you said. I want to make a good impression. I want to make you look good as well. Oh, Are we meeting the Queen as well?”

You stood in front of him. Even with seven-inch heels on he still towers over you.

“You're breathtaking.“ He kissed you and some of your gloss stayed on him.

“He just became king like a year ago, so it's just him.“ You wiped off the gloss on his lips as he spoke.

“You look handsome. I like formal Erik. He fine. Does he have a girl.“ You flirted

He smiled.

“Come on I got my phone and my bag can we go. We’ll be late.“ You said.

***************

Once you arrived at the restaurant. You were amazed by the decor. High glass ceilings, walls and low hanging lights. You felt out of place but the hosts and waiters treated you just the same as all the other wealthy customers.

“Sup man. We have a reservation for Erik or a T'challa.“

Hearing that name did feel like Deja vu. You had heard it somewhere, maybe in a dream or a song. Your mind chucked the thought away when Erik held your hand and led the way.

He was being extra gentle with you tonight. Maybe it was the dress that made you seem soft and feminine but he was extra caring since you left the apartment. He even opened the door for you to his car and helped you in. Getting into a Jeep with high heels is not as easy as Rihanna makes it seem to be. You told yourself to just be happy he’s looking out for you and not read into it. Cause every time Erik changes his behavior a red flag rises in your mind.

If he's not being himself ...then he is up to something Right? Up to something ....can be a good something but lately you were trying to leave room for disappointment.

The host who was dressed in white and gold weaved his way past the bottom floor tables ,directing you and Erik to the most exclusive and private table on the fourth floor. Climbing the stairs Erik stayed one step behind you to make sure you don't fall. His hand rested comfortably on your lower back. You felt like a sheltered women. He made you feel sexy and wanted on the last steps the host pointed you in the right direction.

“Just down the hall to the right you will be at table 101“ Erik thanked him and he left.

Your mind was filled with so much doubt yet so much reassurance. You wanted Erik so bad but you felt like you were risking something by being with him. maybe yourself.

The baby thing was still in your mind. You stayed up awake at night thinking if he was lying. You would create scenarios where you meet up with Cassie and find out the hard truth. There was no way you would stay with Erik if the baby was his. He wouldn't stay with you if you were having another nigga’s child.

A child would complicate everything. You would be second or even third priority after Cassie... the mother of the child. You didn't want that. Cause Erik would never be your second priority why should you be his. You wondered if he had the same thoughts as you about relationship you shared.

You tried to calm down and breath. You wanted to enjoy tonight. Have some wine, good food and meet Erik’s family member. You gave him one last hand squeeze before you entered the sky view dinner area. As if the situation couldn't get any worse your eyes landed on Erik”s Cousin.

It was him.

The Guy from Jafari’s restaurant.

You had his number in your phone.

The young lady he was with sat next to him.

She is here too.

The bodyguard women stood around him.

He is a king. Like real fucking game of thrones shit.

You had a Kings number in your phone and he was Erik”s cousin.

“Earth to (y/n) baby you okay“ Erik smilled.

T'challa had his hand out to you.

“Sorry my bad...“

You didn't know how to play this. Say you've met him before and leave Erik suspicious or lie and act like he was a total stranger and at no point did you picture yourself sitting on his face.

“....Im (y/n). Erik’s Girlfriend. Nice to finally meet you.“

His eyes told you he knew you were faking. He saw right through you. You felt naked and you didn't even do anything wrong. You cleared your thoughts as he kissed your hand.

“A pleasure to meet you. You look marvelous tonight.“

A ticking flowing of electricity flowed from his touch. When he let you go you quickly stepped to Erik’s side. The younger lady introduced herself as Shuri. She was cute and sweet. Erik pulled your chair for you and you thanked him. You sat across T'challa and you knew tonight was going to be a long night.

******************

TAG LIST:

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@sweetsexysavaged

@hearteyes-for-killmonger

@james-heaven-barnes

@theunsweetenedtruth

@myboyfriendgiriboy

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#erik x reader #Erik Killmonger #tchalla imagine #erik imagine #tchalla #tchalla x erik #black panther #shuri #y/n #erikx blackreader #blackreader

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metaphoricallyroger · 5 years

Text

With Love, From Me to You - i of iv [R.T.]

Summary: One-hundred ways to say ‘I love you’ over twenty-seven years.

Words: 2,891

Warnings: Language.

Note: This follows both Bohemian Rhapsody’s and real-life events (generally for dates, minor plot etc.), picture whichever Roger you fancy! The title is taken from ‘From Me To You’ by The Beatles.

1. (1964):

“I like your laugh.”

It’s funny to you, that after such a simple sentence on Roger’s behalf you become fast and close friends almost instantly.

2. (1964):

It’s the first time you’re allowed to go to a dance and even then, it was on the stipulation that Roger goes with you. It took a lot of arm-twisting from the stubborn teenager, but he eventually agreed. Only after you promised to go to some rock concert with him.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“You look nice, that’s all.” Roger thinks you look just as good when you’re wearing your school uniform, but he knows tonight is an important night for you.

“Sweet talker,” you laugh.

Your eyes glimmer with the compliment and you feel your cheeks warm as he leads you out of your house.

3. (1964):

“We’ll be best friends for life, right?” It’s an odd time to ask, at a party for someone in your school class, but you’re both bored out of your minds, and it seemed as good a time as any to ask.

“Forever,” Roger swears. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

4. (1965):

Typically, your house phone didn’t ring in the early hours of a school day.

“Want to go for a walk?”

“What? Roger?” Your eyes still half closed, you struggle to work out who’s calling so late.

“Shit, sorry,” he sighs, “did I wake you?”

“It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” You both recognise the lie, but don’t acknowledge it as you plan where to meet.

5. (1965):

You sit in the driver’s seat of Roger’s father’s car, while he sits in the passenger seat, attempting to teach you to drive. Why his father had allowed you to take his car into the paddock next to their house unsupervised is beyond you.

“I’m going to stall, Roger,” you fret.

“Yeah, so? If you do, just try again, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“What if we crash?” Although you are in a very flat, cleared paddock, with you at the wheel for the first time, anything could go wrong.

“It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” you breathe out and turn the key in the ignition.

6. (1965):

“Y/N!” You turn your head in the busy classroom to see Roger gesturing wildly where he’s sat, books spread across two desks.

“I saved you a seat,” he pulls out the one next to him and you give him a grateful sigh.

7. (1966):

You and Roger are currently en route to a The Who concert in Watford, four hours away from Cornwall.

He has been driving the majority of the time and you were surprised that he hadn’t pulled over the first time he yawned. Roger offered to drive first and you agreed, making sure he promised to pull over if he’s tired.

“Are you going to finally admit that it is time for me to drive?”

“I’m not tired, Y/N.”

“I think you are, considering one of your eyes is shut.” You watch as he wrenches a tired eye open and you smile softly, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“I’m really not that sleepy.” He punctuates his sentence with a bold yawn.

“Pull over. Let me drive for a while.”

“Yeah, alright.” He pulls off the side of the road and jogs to your side of the car, opening the door for you.

You clamber out and switch seats and adjust yours to sit closer to the steering wheel and put the car back into gear.

“See, now you can have a-” The boy next to you has fallen asleep, hair blowing out with each deep exhale, making you smile softly.

8. (1966):

You’ve never had your heart broken, but your first boyfriend has broken up with you and you aren’t heartbroken, you’re angry. From the way you’ve been influenced by your female friends, you thought you would’ve been crying all the time. But you’re too busy trying not to kick a hole in the wall.

“Who does that twat think he is? Running around like he’s the Lord’s gift to ladies. I can’t believe I ever slept with him.”

Roger doesn’t want to say he feels happy about this (because this is you who’s been broken up with), but your boyfriend was an absolute twat in his eyes, and he’s happy you’re rid of him. He’s also happy that you aren’t sad about it, but that’s beside the point.

“Want to go egg his car?” He suggests with eyebrows raised.

“You read my mind.”

9. (1966):

“What are you doing?” Finding Roger in your house wasn’t rare, but finding Roger in your house holding a bunch of flowers and your coat was.

“I am taking you out to show you how a real date should be done. Not what that tosser was trying to pass off one as.”

“You really don’t have to do this to make me feel better. The eggs worked, truly.” You nod along with your thoughts, trying to persuade Roger out of his latest idea.

“I know. But I want to. Now, go and get your shoes on, we’ll be late otherwise.”

Knowing better than to argue, you do as he says and allow him to lead you to his car.

10. (1967):

“I got in!” You run into Roger’s arms excitedly and he catches you and spins you around, laughing.

“So did I!”

“I’m so proud of you,” you pull back to look at his sparkling eyes.

“You’re proud of me? I’m proud of you!”

You’re both overjoyed and hug again, even tighter than before.

“Don’t know how’d I’d survive uni without you nearby.” He finally places you back on your feet and you both exchange letters, looking at the separate places you’ll be attending university in London.

11. (1967):

You have never been this drunk before. In fact, if you could think straight, you’re sure in your life you have never been drunk.

It’s your eighteenth birthday and to say you weren’t well on your way to seeing three of everything was an understatement. Your fingers feel numb and one side of your body has become a dead weight, too tired to pull yourself up you begin to slip off the stool.

“I’ll walk you home,” Roger grasps your elbow.

“Um,” you pause and wiggle your feet, “I can’t remember how to walk.”

Roger restrains a grin at your expense and squats, gesturing for you to climb on his back.

“If you throw up in my hair, we’re going to have words.”

Roger makes it back to your dorm hall with minimal accidents and pulls open the door thanks to the key he blindly fished from your back pocket.

“You’re going to get in trouble if my RA finds you in my dorm. Ooh,” you hiccup, “I can tell everyone I’ve had the Roger Taylor in my room.”

“You’re oddly coherent in talking for someone who’s drunk their weight in pints and scotch.”

“I give good mouth,” you smack your lips together as if trying to prove your point.

“Ah, there’s the drunk in you.”

12. ( Same night - 1967):

“Mmhm, no, stay.” You drowsily reach out and weakly grip the hand resting on your forehead.

“Do you mind if I do? Just to make sure you’re alright in the mornin’?”

“Okay,” you grin and sigh contentedly, allowing Roger to place pillows along your back where you lie on your side.

“I’m going to get you some water and paracetamol, don’t go anywhere without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Your grip releases from his hand and he places it under your chin gently.

13. (1967):

The train station is busy, people are getting jostled on all sides by rushing travellers like dominos fall one after the other. Despite the frigid temperatures of the outside world, the number of people underground have made the heat swell.

“You call me once you get back to Cornwall, okay? Tell me how everyone is?” You tuck Roger’s scarf into his fur coat and he rolls his eyes playfully at your care.

“I will. Have a good holiday.” You both hug each other and the pair of you savour it, knowing this will be the last until school starts again.

14. (1968):

You haven’t seen Roger since before the winter holidays in which you both travelled to your respective sides of England. You did want to go back to Cornwall with him but it was agreed upon (without your knowledge), that this year's holidays would be a family reunion in God-knows-where, Kent.

Having become fast friends after meeting at your orientation day of sixth form, you both knew that your friendship would be able to survive not seeing each other over the uni break. You both agree over the phone on your first night of holidays that a train ride from Kent to Cornwall and vice versa would be too much travel and not enough visiting.

“It was mine as a child.”

“You’re giving me a used, toy lion?”

“Look,” you sigh, “if you don’t want it-”

“No,” he cuts you off, “just wonderin’ why you would give me something important to you.”

“It reminded me of you.” You gesture towards his growing shaggy hair, not dissimilar to your old lion’s mane.

Roger grips the little lion’s paw and brings it under his chin, and doesn’t let it out of his sight.

15. (1968):

“You ready for today?”

“Think so,” he passes the cigarette you’re sharing back to you.

“Just wish I’d ignored my mum and brought my kit with me,” he continues, exhaling smoke.

“What’re they called again?”

“Smile.”

“That suits a dental student,” you quip and turn to face him.

“But don’t worry,” you place a hand on his shoulder, “they’ll see how good you are, even if you are auditioning on bongos.”

“Shit,” he pauses, “I’ll be late if I don’t go now.”

“Good luck!” You call and stub the cigarette out on the side of the dorm building before disappearing back inside.

16. (1968):

“I cannot believe you just opened for Pink Floyd.” You nudge Roger on the shoulder playfully.

“Neither can I.” He has this far-off look in his eyes, that can’t quite focus on anything except for the poster of the headliner as if he’s still trying to convince himself this moment actually happened.

“Well, tell me more about it! What was it like up on stage?”

There’s something wonderful about the look in Roger’s eyes that he gets when he’s talking about music, it almost paints a picture with the movement of his hands.

17. (1969):

You and Roger are the only two left from your group still studying and you haven’t had any time to go and get refreshments. Yearly exams for your universities were hurrying around the corner and you’re stressed, Roger, on the other hand, seems to be coasting by despite hardly ever attending his own classes.

You thought he would’ve bailed hours ago when everyone else did, but he’s been studying vigorously and you’re honestly quite surprised.

“Here, eat.” A wrapped sandwich lands in your lap and you look up at Roger who’s also holding two bottles of water.

“No,” you refuse, pushing the sandwich back, “you need to eat too, though.”

“That’s okay, I bought two.” He draws the other out of his pocket and sits back down, eagerly tucking into his food quietly without alerting the librarian.

18. (1969):

“It’s way too late for you to get the Tube back, just stay here.” You, Roger, Brian and their new friend Freddie just got back from a party and while Brian and Freddie have both made their way back to their accommodations, Roger hasn’t.

“Your flatmate won’t mind?”

“She’ll be gone before we wake up,” you whisper, “some people have normal jobs.”

“How are we going to fit?”

“There’s enough room for both of us.” Enough room means practically sleeping on one another, which usually means Roger on your chest or stomach, with a leg wedged in between your own and the other wrapped over your body.

“Alright then,” that seems to elicit yawns from you. You both collapse on the bed and fall asleep on top of the covers, still clothed.

19. (1969):

You stare down at the dress in your hand and its price tag, before looking back up at Freddie and Roger, not quite believing they aren’t having a laugh. You knew that most of their items at the stall were vintage, but you didn’t assume they came from somewhere high-end.

“You ripping me off for a particular reason?”

“I can give it to you for free?” Roger sheepishly grins. You reach into your handbag for your purse and get out the required money.

“Absolutely not,” you state, “I’m paying full price.

20. (1970):

“Need help with that?” Roger comes to stand at the open doors of his van and watches you struggle to place the hardware of his drum kit gently on the concrete.

You, Roger, Brian and Tim were all setting up for Smile’s latest gig at the pub they frequent.

“It’s not that heavy. I’m stronger than I look.”

To prove your point, you pick up the bass drum with ease and walk away, a slight waddle to your step as it bumps into your side with every second stride. You hear Roger laugh behind you as he slams the doors of the van shut and the pleasant sound follows you through the back entrance to the stage.

21. (1970):

“‘Humpy Bong’. Who calls their band ‘Humpy Bong’?” Roger has been complaining about the name of a band more than the fact that their own lead singer just quit. Granted, the name sounds ridiculous to you, but the principle of the matter still stands.

“His loss, he’s the one joining a band about humping a bong.”

You try to change the conversation but Roger launches into another tirade.

“I think he’s right. That show was a load of bollocks.”

“Well, there was room for improvement, yeah,” Brian suggests, attempting to be the optimist.

“I’ve got better things to do with my Saturday nights. I could give you their names.” You and Brian exchange an eye roll as Roger smirks to himself.

“Don’t be vile,” he receives a playful tap on the arm, “besides, I think you’ll find a new singer.”

The men look at you and shrug.

22. (1970):

“I’m never eating meat again. Tell Brian I’m joining his club.” You complain as Roger finishes securing another band in your hair to make the mess more secure.

“Now you’re being dramatic, Y/N.”

“My stomach feels like it’s about to leave my body.” You relax against the cool tile wall and accept the glass of water he’s been cyclically passing you since this fiasco started.

“That’s generally what happens when you throw up every hour.”

“You should go to bed, leave me to die in peace,” you moan. It was embarrassing, to get sick at your friend’s house, but you and Roger have been through most things in life with each other, and that eases some of the pressure you’re feeling.

“Sorry, you’re my best friend. I’d stay up all night with you if I had to.”

The hand he rubs across your back is comforting as you hunch yourself forward over the toilet bowl once again.

23. (1970):

Roger almost jumps out of his skin as cold hands press against the flat of his stomach beneath his shirt.

“Y/N!”

“I’m cold!” You whine. The flat the Christmas party was held in is cold, you weren’t aware that the idea of this party was to actually emulate outdoor conditions inside and Roger was always warm, so why not use him like a hot water bottle?

“I’m not a heater!”

You lean over, slightly intoxicated, and whisper in his ear, “no, you’re way hotter.”

He grumbles under his breath and you laugh as you stumble away.

24. (1971):

“Oh, Roger,” your eyes bug out, “come here. Let me help.”

Roger is trying to wrestle with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol across his bloody knuckles and blistered palms, hissing everytime they pass over sensitive skin from drumming.

“Thanks, love.”

“You must really be in need of help if you’re calling me that,” you lilt and grab a fresh cotton ball.

You blanch as you study his hands.

“You’ve rubbed all the skin off!” He only nods. You gently wipe the blood away and wrap his fingers with band-aids, giving him a respite everytime he winces.

He flexes his fingers gingerly once you finish.

“Thanks again,” he repeats.

Your lips create a smacking noise as they make contact with the calluses on his palm.

25. (1971):

The three members of Queen and you stand around Roger’s van after another mediocre performance with their latest bass player, who once again, didn’t live up to the standards Roger, Brian and Freddie all have.

“That’s the millionth bass player we’ve been through since we became Queen!” Roger complains, flinging open the back doors of the van.

“Bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“Well I don’t see you offering any suggestions,” he glares at you.

“I might know of a bass player.”

“You do?” Brian pipes up, trying not to become too hopeful.

“I’m friends with his girlfriend. I’ll introduce you at the disco we’re going to later this week. His name’s John Deacon, by the way.”

“If this works out you’re brilliant, and the best friend anyone could ask for.” Roger presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off.

#roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #rt

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ashenious · 4 years

Text

Some Grand Affairs Amongst the Normality - Chapter 12 of ??? (Dante/Reader)

Overall Story Rating: Mature Overall Story Tags: Alcohol, Big Snake, (Like literally a big snake), Blood, Body Horror, Dead Body Mention, Fluff, Gore Mention, Depressive Thoughts, Drugging, IV Mention, Nausea, Nightmares, Reader is regular boring Human, Reader likes to clean, Reader is also a troublemaker, Slow Burn, Suicide Mention, There was only one bed, Vore (I’m so sorry)

For This Chapter: Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Nightmares, Vore (I’m so sorry) Additional: Big Fluff Word Count: 7984

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/ Part 10/Part 11/Part 12/Part 13/Part 14

AO3 Link: Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/Part 11/Part 12/Part 13/Part 14

You had seen Dante do some pretty amazing things in the last 6 months, from lifting a giant water snake demon off of the ground with his own two hands and then throwing it like it weighed nothing to consuming more pizza in one day than a human could eat in a month to being able to sleep in literally any place he sat down to even transforming into a beautiful demon when he activated his devil trigger, but to you, the most incredible thing you had yet to see the man do was to use his goddamn brain for more than 2 fucking seconds.

You knew you weren’t overly emotional and cranky from your lack of sleep because despite the fact that you had slept for a solid 12 hours straight, your head was still pressed into your hand as you tried to keep yourself from throwing Dante into a nearby trashcan. Lifting yourself up and looking at the man, his face far too smug for your liking in the moment, you felt your face scrunch at the sight.

“Look, I just don’t see the need to finish the back room,” Dante said as he brought a piece of pizza up to his lips. “Let alone add a kitchen and actual rooms back there. It’s fine as it is!” You had a lot more will power in you than you originally thought as you stopped yourself from reaching over and throwing both the box of pizza and the man holding it into the garbage.

“Because, Dante, you absolutely cannot keep taking out so many loans with Lady! You’re here all the time anyway, why not learn to cook or something? That and finishing the backroom would give you something to do instead of sitting on your fat ass all day and reading your magazines! Maybe you could rent out the rooms for extra money too?” you explained, your voice full of irritation as you brought your hand down to the desk.

“Hey, you like my fat ass!” Dante countered as he smirked. Smacking your hand into your face again, you drug it down your cheek and glared at the overly confident man. “And I work hard when I do work, what if I want to relax when I’m home?”

That… was probably the only valid point Dante had made, and you sighed as you considered it.

“What if…you found that painting and building WAS relaxing to you?” you proposed.

“Probably not,” Dante said as he bit into another slice of pizza. “Do I look seem someone who would enjoy painting?”

“How would I know? From all I ever see you do, you don’t enjoy anything besides pizza and sleeping!” You said, your voice full of irritation.

“Well, I think it’s obvious,” Dante said, motioning his hand over himself. “What do I seem like I enjoy? Like, I could look at you and tell you enjoy reading books even if I had only spent 5 minutes getting to know you.”

“Pray tell, how in the world could you tell that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Cause you’re a dork, and dorks always love books.”

Oh trashcan it was then.

Standing up from Dante’s desk quickly, you ran your hand over the top of the desk as you walked toward Dante, who was only giving you a smug look as you walked over to him.

The phone rang suddenly, and you jumped at the noise as you turned to look at it. Hearing shuffling, you turned to watch Dante stand up and make his way toward you and the desk. He handed you the box of pizza, which you begrudgingly took, before he reached for his phone.

“Devil May Cry,” you had heard Dante say that same phrase probably dozens of times, but no matter what day it was, it always changed the atmosphere of the store to hear him greet someone on the phone. You had wondered for months where Dante had gotten the name ‘Devil May Cry’ for his store, but the thought usually escaped your mind before you were able to ask him.

Sitting yourself back into Dante’s chair, you placed the box of pizza on your lap and opened it, happy to see that 2 pieces were left. Grabbing one, you began to munch on it as you tried, and failed, to not eavesdrop on Dante’s phone call.

“All done then?” The man said, his one hand pressed on the desktop as he leant on the side. Dante listened for a long time on the phone, and he barely said anything to whoever he was talking to. Occasionally he would hum or grunt in confirmation as he listened, and it wasn’t until a few minutes has passed that he spoke again. “Alright, thanks for letting me know. If everything’s all wrapped up, then we can come…wait, actually.” Pausing, Dante glanced to the side at you, and you felt your face scrunch as he looked at you. “Is that house the demon was staying in still quarantined?” Scooting forward a bit, you listened in more to what Dante was saying, hoping to hear whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Okay, great. Can you bring all the stuff with you to there?” Unable to hear the other person, you finished off your piece of pizza and grabbed another to eat as you waited for Dante to get off the phone.

“Thanks Morrison,” Dante finally said just before he placed the phone back in its place. He turned to you and you paused your chewing for a second. “Morrison’s going to bring your stuff to where that demon’s house was. You said you wanted to go see it, right?” Continuing your chewing, you nodded at Dante and closed the pizza box.

You hadn’t thought about your captivity much since you left the hospital, maybe it was because you had been distracting yourself with things to do since you arrived at Devil May Cry or maybe it was because thinking of your time in that basement brought forth a coil of dread that almost paralyzed you. Regardless, you knew you had asked Dante to bring you to see the area, and you had yet to prepare yourself for that return.

You felt your heart begin to speed up as you thought about what the area could look like now that it was no longer burning and now that it had probably been combed over completely by detectives for the case. The place where you were held captive was below the floors of the house, and your last memories of the room were just as dark as your memories of when you first woken up in there.

“You ready to go?” Dante asked, his hand offered to you to help you to your feet.

“…yeah,” you lied.

There wasn’t much left to of the house to look at. When Dante had described all the walls as having been burnt down, you thought there was going to be a little bit of wall or molding left near the floor to show where the walls once stood, and yet neither were present as you glanced over the area. The smell was still strong, despite days having passed since the fire was started and the elements being allowed to run over the exposed area, and you had to cover your nose as you stood because it was overwhelming.

The area where the house once stood was charred and blackened from the flames, but it was still obvious where the foundations of the house began. Dante wouldn’t let you step past the edges of the concrete, however, and as you leaned down and ran your hand over the floorboard that was covered in a centimeter ash and soot, you understood why.

Parts of the floorboards had fallen in, but only in one area of the house. It confused you as to why only that specific part was the only place where the wooden boards were falling it. Standing and walking around the house slowly, you were able to see more of the area below the house, and as the outline of a desk became more visible to you as you moved, your brain registered that that was the area where the culprit’s victims had been kept. Your heart was already racing when you had left Devil May Cry, but the sound of it now started to pound in your ears are you looked over the desk that was covered in wooden boards and dust.

Turning and glancing behind you, you noticed that Dante didn’t follow you, and was still standing in the same place he was before you moved. He was watching you, and the expression on his face was unreadable as you looked over his features. Turning back to the house, you let your eyes run up and down the remaining floor pieces. Despite the whole house being visible from where you stood, no part of the house stood out as more burnt to you, something that you found kind of odd. Continuing around the house again, you continued to glance over all of the floor as you looked for a hint of difference among each plank. Reaching the original side that Dante still stood on, you felt your face scrunch a bit.

“What’re you looking for?” Dante asked as you approached him. It was a bit hard to hear his as he spoke as your heart was still in your ears.

“Where…was the fire started?” you asked quietly as you stepped up to the base of the foundation again. Turning and looking at Dante’s face, he smiled a bit and you felt a bit confused.

“You noticed that too, huh?” Dante asked you as he stepped forward. He lifted his hand and pointed to the corner of where the floorboards started to fall in, and you turned your eyes to the area. “There, that’s where.”

“So close…” you muttered to yourself as your eyes moved quickly between the spot Dante pointed to and the area below.

“Morrison, for the longest time, couldn’t figure out how the victims were being set on fire,” Dante explained suddenly. Looking up to him as he lowered his arm, you listened intently. “That’s why he came to me. ‘I don’t believe in spontaneous combustion, so something demonic must be happening to these people’ he had said,” Dante continued, his voice changing to mimic Morrison’s and you couldn’t help but chuckle at bit at the imitation.

“I mean, I don’t blame him… Humans are hard to burn,” you said, slowly turning back to the burnt house. “I-I mean, I assume so anyway, since we’re made of pretty fire retardate stuff,” you sputtered out quickly. “L-Like fat is pretty durable, and I can’t imagine bone is very easy to set fire to either, plus you’ve gotta get through skin first an—” Feeling a hand come down on your head, you snapped your mouth shut and jumped a bit. Turning back to look at Dante, he slowly ran his hand through your hair, brushing it to the side.

“We still aren’t quite sure…what he was doing to the victims to set them on fire, even though he was a fire demon, whether he was just setting them on fire and leaving, or if he was doing something to them before he set them on fire,” Dante said as he looked down to you. “But the important part is that he won’t be able to do it again.”

“…Right.” You agreed, slowly turning back to look at the house remains once more. “D-Dante?”

“What’s up, babe?”

“I-I uh…” stopping yourself, you began to tap your fingers on your side slowly as you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say. “I-I want to try and start getting things…back to normal.” Feeling the hand on your head shift, you turned around completely and put your back to the charred home. “S-Since everything’s now done, I-I think it’s time for me to go back to home and to work…”

“You sure you don’t need a few more days of recovery?” Dante asked, his eyes lowering to meet yours. Shaking your head a bit, you slowly reached up and pulled Dante’s hand off of your head.

“No, I’ll be fine,” you said as you slowly let go of Dante’s hand. Hearing a call in the distance, you turned and saw Morrison approaching you and Dante. Waving at the man, you waited til he was near before you greeted him. He lifted his hat and nodded at you and Dante, and slowly set his hat back on his head as he raised up a bag toward you.

Taking it slowly, he explained that the bag held all your belongings. Checking inside, you confirmed that your stuff was inside, but you sighed as you noticed the layer of dust on them and the smell of burning still lingering over them. You thanked Morrison as you closed the bag, and then slung it over your shoulder.

The three of you talked for a little while, mostly going over formalities as Morrison asked how you were doing. You explained your situation, emphasizing that you were happy to be able to move again without having a nurse yelling at you. The man couldn’t help but laugh a bit as you went on about your found again freedom, and it wasn’t long after when you finished rambling on that you and Dante departed from the area toward your apartment.

It was a longer walk than normal to your home, and though the sun hung high in the sky, the air was brisk as you and Dante walked side by side. You were barely paying attention to the people and events passing by you as you moved, your mind mostly focused on the next day. You wished to return back to your normal again, but as you turned a corner behind Dante, you couldn’t help but wonder what your normal was anymore.

Had the times of working depressingly day in and day out finally departed from you? It seemed like such a long time ago that you could barely pick up a book and finish it in a few days, as your free time at work was filled with making time pass by quickly as you awaited your next day off. It would be a relief to return to your routine once again, but there was conflict in you at the thought.

The normality had once caused you such despair, so the thoughts of wanting to return to it quickly were confusing. But this normality was different, your routine almost completely different than what it used to be. Although your days were still spent mostly at the library and then at home where you barely slept, no 2 days blurred together in a fog of memory when you tried to recollect when past events had occurred.

Almost every week since you had started to spend your Thursdays off at Devil May Cry had brought new events and excitement into your life, and you could recall each week as distinctly as the last. Even the weeks at work that were the most mundane and boring still stuck out to you as you were able to at least place the week to a date based on association to what had happened at Devil May Cry. No longer had you walked home with thoughts circling back on themselves as you paced through the darkness. Had the game that life had thrown you into really shaken up your life so much that it was allowing you to almost completely reinvent yourself? Or had you finally freed yourself from the rut you were dug into so that you could see everything more clearly than before you had met Dante?

At the sight of your apartment door, you pulled your bag down from your shoulder, dreading opening it for a second before you dug your hand into it in search of your keys. Pulling them out, you returned your bag to your shoulder and began to shake out your keys as you eyed your house key. Grabbing onto the correct one, you walked up to your apartment door, but stopped just outside it.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you said as you turned around.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the way to my place any way so,” Dante said, bringing his arms up and shrugging a bit. “Before I leave though,” seeing Dante reach into his jacket, you watched him. His face furrowed a bit as he checked the other side of his jacket before he pulled his hand out, a box now in hand.

“What’s that?” you asked as you looked over the box. Dante shook his head a bit and handed the box to you. Taking it, it was very heavy, much heavier than you thought it was, and you looked at Dante.

“You don’t like the type who’d go out and get one yourself, but it’s a gun,” Dante explained as he crossed his arms over his chest. Looking down at the box again, you raised an eyebrow. “It’s just…In case you need it.”

“…Thank you,” you said, slowly opening your bag and setting it inside gently.

“You ever shoot a gun before? Or I guess, do you know how to use one?” Dante asked.

“It’s been a while, but I’m kind of familiar with them,” you explained as you closed your bag.

“That’s good, then I’m not worried you’ll shoot your roommate or someone. Then, if you’re wanting to get things back to normal, should I expect you at the store on Thursday?”

“…What day is it today?” you asked.

“Tuesday, I think?”

“Maybe not this week…” you chuckled a bit, bringing your hand up and adjusting your bag a bit. “I’m surprised you’re not sick of having me around the store.”

“I don’t think I could get sick of having you around the store,” Dante said, his hands coming up to rest on his sides.

“That’s a fat lie if I’ve ever heard one,” you countered, sticking your tongue out a little bit.

“Hey, I’m a lot of bad things, but I‘m not a liar!” Dante replied, his one hand coming up to cover his heart and his other raising into the air. “Swear on my life!”

“So… you’re swearing on your life full of lewd magazines, overindulging on alcohol, and being a professional demon killer?” you chuckled. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to believe you more or less now!” Dante laughed a bit and brought his hands down to his sides.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as you watched the man for a second. As you and Dante slowly grew quiet, you found yourself looking over the man slowly. You found yourself looking at his lips for a bit before you looked up to his eyes, catching him also looking over you. Feeling your face grow hot, you quickly turned your head away and stared at the nearby trash can as you tried to sputter out words. Feeling a hand come up under your chin, you flinched a bit and looked up at Dante again as his hand lowered a bit.

Seeing his face show a bit of surprise, you looked between his hand and his face before you gently lowered your chin down to touch his hand again. Dante let out a low hum, and you felt like your head was going to explode from how warm it felt. Feeling a bit of pressure under your chin, you furrowed your eyebrows a bit just before Dante moved closer, his feet bringing him closer to you.

Without thinking, you slid your feet back slowly, your back gently meeting the wall as the entirety of Dante drew closer. Bringing your hand up, your bag and keys fell to the ground, something you barely noticed as you laid your hand over Dante’s arm.

Your eyes met Dante’s as he neared, and you only broke your locked gaze with him when you began to feel his breathe on your face, your eyes going down to his lips again. Dante’s head tilted just before he stopped, his nose just about to touch yours and your face was still burning, but you barely noticed as you stared at the lips hovering near yours. Squeezing Dante’s arm a bit, you suddenly realized that he had moved his hand and had placed both his arms on each side of you, locking you to the wall.

When Dante began to move forward, you closed your eyes slowly, feeling the warm breath on your face grow closer. Your heart skipped a beat when you finally felt the touch of Dante’s lips on yours, and your breath caught in your chest. Feeling the lips against yours move, you gently clenched your hand and let your lungs relax as you began to move your lips as well, your heart feeling like it was going to pound right out of your chest.

Dante was surprisingly soft as he kept his lips moving with yours, both his kiss and his lips, and you felt yourself slowly relax the more you moved your lips with the man. He didn’t press himself closer to you, but you felt a growing need in you for more contact as he pulled back for a second.

Feeling his breath on your face again, you slowly opened your eyes a small bit, catching sight of the man’s expression that was softer than any expression you had ever seen before. Feeling your breath hitch a little bit, you reached up, your hand grazing Dante’s jaw lightly as you reached around his head. Weaving your hand through the silver hair and cupping your hand at the base of Dante’s neck, you pulled the man closer, pushing your lips against his again.

Dante hummed lightly as his lips began to move against yours, his movements more firm as he pressed against you. You combed your fingers through the man’s hair as you mirrored his actions, your heart still racing in the moment. The kiss only lasted a few more seconds before Dante pulled away again, his forehead resting against yours gently as you tried to catch your breath.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, and you felt your face burn up at the look Dante was giving you. You felt your lips move a bit as you wanted to say something, but nothing came out from your mouth.

“…It seems you’ve fallen under my spell,” Dante said quietly, his voice more rough than you’re ever heard before. You shivered a bit, your hand slowly coming back around the man and resting over his chest as you tilted your head a bit.

“Y-Your spell…?” Being completely flustered in the moment, you were taking a second to process what Dante had just said to you.

“Remember? I told you I was an incubus,” Dante said as he winked. Feeling your lips pull tight, you lifted your hand up and pushed it up under the man’s chin, pushing him off of you.

“You’re a dork, that’s what you are!” You said as you felt Dante’s arms remove themselves from around you. The man laughed, his hands coming up to grasp lightly at your wrist. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit as well, though a bit mad that you had given into to such a dork. Feeling your hand be removed from Dante’s chin, the man brought your hand down and held it lightly. Pulling it toward his face, Dante kissed the top lightly, and you couldn’t help but flush a bit as the man stared you directly in the eye as he did so.

“I’ll…see you next Thursday then?” he asked lightly as he let your hand linger near his mouth. You nodded lightly as you gently poked the man on the nose.

“Yeah, see you Thursday,” you said quietly. Dante hesitated a moment before he let your hand go. He knelt down and grabbed your bag and keys, bringing it up for you to grab. You smiled a bit and grabbed them, and Dante lingered for only a moment more before he turned around and started to walk down the alley, his arm coming up to give you a backhanded, two finger wave.

You only turned around once Dante was out of sight around the corner, your hand fumbling a bit to insert your key in the lock. Finally succeeding in causing the lock tumblers to align, you withdrew your keys and threw open the door to the inside. Hearing a loud crash suddenly, you jumped a bit, your keys flying from your hand to the floor nearby.

“Son of a bitch!” Hearing the voice come from the other room, you called out to the source as you stepped inside more, closing the door behind you. “You scared me!” Alecz said as they rounded the corner from the living room. “W-What’s with that face? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I-I’ve…just never heard you curse before,” you admitted, wondering what your face could look like in the moment. Bending down to grab your keys, you placed them in your bag before you rose to your feet again. “Sorry for scaring you, I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it’s fine, just startled me a bit, and I accidentally threw my book…” Alecz said as they shook their head. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the image of Alecz throwing a book that had appeared in your head. Alecz smiled lightly at your laugh and leaned on the wall nearby. “Welcome home, by the way.”

“Thank you!” you said, grinning a bit. “It’s…nice to be home again.” Shifting your bag on your shoulder, you looked around the apartment to see if anything had changed since you were last home. Noticing no changes, you turned back to Alecz.

“Nice…arm thing.” Alecz commented, pointing at your sling.

“Oh, my sling?” Lifting your arm up gently, you held it closer to Alecz for them to look at. “The nurse and Dante insisted I wear it cause I was, as they said, ‘troublesome’, so it’s supposed to keep me from moving my arm.”

“…I agree with them.” Alecz said bluntly.

“What? I am not ‘troublesome’!” you rebutted, pouting. Alecz only laughed lightly and removed themselves from the wall.

“Sure you aren’t. Will…you be returning to work tomorrow?” they asked as they turned and made their way to the living room.

“I think I will, depending on if I feel okay in the morning,” you answered, slowly following them to the living space. Alecz made their way to their usual place, slowly picking up a book from the ground as they leant down to sit. “I’m thinking that if I just…knock myself out with something then I’ll sleep long enough and feel well enough to work in the morning.”

“…I don’t think that that is how sleep works.” Alecz commented as they paged through their book slowly.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow if it works or not!” you grinned and turned, making your way to your room. Stepping toward your desk, you slid open the bottom drawer of your desk, and carefully rummaged through the miscellaneous items that were discarded and forgotten about in it.

Pulling out an old pill bottle, you held the base of it in your injured hand and used your good hand to twist the top off. You tapped the bottle onto the lid until 4 pills came out, and you slowly lifted the lid up to your mouth. Leaning your head back, you let the 4 pills fall into the back of your throat, and you swallowed them. Terry had yelled at you about the dangers of dry swallowing pills when you were in the hospital and needed to take an assortment of pills to help your body recover. You couldn’t even remember half of what you had taken during your stay since the names were so complicated, but it seemed like they helped you.

Recapping the bottle and throwing it back in the drawer, you used your foot to close it as you turned around and stepped toward your bed. Refusing to properly remove your shoes, you merely toed them off before you spun around and fell onto your bed.

It wasn’t longer before the sleep pills began to make your eye lids feel heavy, and you felt yourself fight the urge to sleep a bit as anxiety edged its way into your mind at the thought of nightmares. But you succumbed to sleep finally, your eyes closing at some point in the night as the feeling of exhaustion flowed through every part of you.

“C’mon, I have one arm that still works just fine!”

“Nope! Front desk for you!”

You were hoping to go back to normality today, but your boss was being particularly stubborn about letting you do anything. And so you sat at the front desk and pouted the loudest you could. Your boss was less than amused by your pouting, but he tried to pay no mind to it as he reshelved the bookshelves on the first floor.

Spinning around in the chair, you knew the day was going to be slow, as the middle of the week never brought many new people in. Kids were in school, and the cooler weather meant that there would be less random wanderers walking around, and so the chances of you needing to do much of anything was small.

Setting your feet down on the under-desk crate, your placed your elbow on the table with your cheek against your hand as you sighed loudly. You wanted to tap your hands on the table, wanted to move your feet around, wanted to do SOMETHING, but you worried that you were going to be making too much noise for the few people who were sitting in the library.

Reaching over and grabbing the reservations folder, you flipped it open gently and skimmed over it. There weren’t a lot of reservations for you to go through, and you wanted to groan. Placing your head on the papers, you closed your eyes for a moment and thought.

You had begun your routine again, the normality that you so desperately wanted to break before, and yet your mind wandered over to the case again. Something was bothering you still, a tiny little detail in your mind that you just couldn’t let go. It was probably a detail that you had misheard, or maybe it was just because of how odd the case was, but you needed something to do and so this detail was going to be sanity savior for the week.

“Hey, Boss!” you called out at your boss as you waved at him. “Can you bring the microfilm reader up here for me?” Seeing your boss’ disapproving look, you grinned a bit. “Please?”

You weren’t even sure where to start looking, all you knew was that Lain, whose name made your stomach turn a bit, had been involved in an arson case a few years ago. That’s what Dante had told you, and that was all you had to work with as you started shuffling through the microfilms. You decided it was reasonable to start 3 years ago and just go back from there, also setting the go back limit that you were going to stop at to be 6 years ago.

You didn’t think you’d be sitting in front of the microfilm reader again, one handedly replacing the films as you scanned through the old papers, and yet that’s just what you did for your entire shift. It was tremendously boring, just like the last time you had hauled the microfilm reader out to the front for research, but at least it was something to do. Film after film you loaded up and skimmed the stories they held, and yet there was nothing you found that you were interested in on any of the old papers. There were plenty of stories that you read that unraveled backwards as you worked back in time, stories that you’d see the conclusions to before you saw the beginning, and it was fascinating to see the details that were included in hindsight that would’ve made the story of the case easier to solve. And yet there was a complete absence of stories in all of the papers on arson.

As you locked up the library for the night, a large sigh left you as you threw your keys back into your bag. There was always tomorrow to keep looking, hell, there was every day until next Thursday that you’d have to skim through all the microfilms. You had barely made a dent in the stack of films you wanted to get through, but progress was progress, even if it was just one step at a time.

Walking home had a strange welcomeness to it, the sight of your breath in front of you and the darkened streets a familiar sight as you paced down the sidewalk. The houses and businesses you passed by hadn’t changed since the last time you had walked home, the leaves in front of them still crisp and the frost forming on them still shining as the street light shone over them just like it had done before you were taken.

It was only as you stepped onto the bridge near the city park that something began to feel different. You couldn’t place the feeling exactly, but it was dense, heavy in you as you walked across the bridge. You couldn’t help your feet as they began to move faster, your breath coming out faster and harder as you made your way over the bridge.

Home was only a short distance away, however, and it was only when you were inside, the door closed and both locks set up that you felt like you could relax. Your left arm hurt, and you barely wanted to unclench your hand as you knew it was going to hurt like hell to do. Making your way to the bathroom, you threw your bag and keys into your room before you stepped into the bathroom.

Removing your sling slowly, you tossed it onto the counter before you sat down and began to change your dressing. Your wound was healing well, but it still had a long way to go before it was completely better. It had only been just above 1 week since you had been found, and so it had only been a week since the stitches were put in.

You were told that you would need to go back to the hospital to have Doctor Frostla check up on the progress of how your arm was healing. You were less than thrilled to have to go back to the hospital, and even less thrilled to learn if you would need more surgeries in the future to help your arm. You knew that you would probably need some sort of physical therapy to help you regain function in your hand again, but you were most worried about the feeling in your fingers. You could barely feel anything on your index finger and middle finger, and it was difficult to uncurl them so that they could lay straight. You wondered if you’d ever be able to have normal function in your hand again.

Wrapping up your arm again, you decided against putting it back in the sling. You still brought the sling with you as you made your way back to your room, but you threw it at your bag as you climbed into bed. As you slowly pulled the comforter of your bed, you felt exhaustion hit you, the toll of returning back to work effecting you. It was almost nice to feel your regular exhaustion again, but still the coil of anxiety hit you at the thought of sleep. Pausing before you pulled the comforter over you, you glanced at the drawer.

You couldn’t remember if you had had any dreams the night before, which was definitely better than remembering them, so you as you rose up from your bed, you decided that it would be better to try and keep your dreams minimal if you had any say in the matter.

Today was your day off, technically, and your boss made it known as you stepped in the library. But you didn’t have anything else to do. Well, you could’ve gone into Devil May Cry, of course, but you felt odd about considering going back to the store only 1 day after you had told Dante you wanted to be at home. You also felt odd considering what had happened outside of your home just 2 days prior, something that made your face burn and made you want to smash your face into any nearby surface that wouldn’t break thinking about it.

Your boss protested your disuse of the sling as you sat on your chair, and you merely rolled your eyes at him as you used only your good hand to load the microfilm reader. Seeing you not using your injured hand seemed to calm his worries, and he left you to attend the front as he returned to reshelf books like he had done the previous day. You knew he wouldn’t be spending the whole day shelving like he had yesterday as there weren’t nearly as many books as there usually was to put back. His snarky comments and quick wit would be back up to the front to bother you soon enough, so you were going to enjoy the quiet in the front until that happened.

Loading up one of the more stubborn rolls of film, you adjusted it under the glass before you leaned back in your chair and began to skim over the paper. It seemed like any other paper on any other day, the main headline being something about the local sports team, and the next story down being a local story about some local guy you didn’t really care about. Turning the roll and letting the paper slide up to the next page, you stopped suddenly.

Zooming in on one part of the second page, you noticed a small story about a local fire case being put on the shelves. It wasn’t a long story at all, but it listed some dates of local fires that had recently occurred. Jotting down the dates, you looked around the front desk area to see if anyone was approaching you before you ran to the archives room.

Grabbing all the microfilm from the written down dates, you jogged back to the microfilm reader at the front and began to swap out the film in the machine for the one whose date was the furthest back in time. Adjusting the film under the glass again, you looked up to the screen and once again began your viewing of the paper.

The front page told you no information about a fire, and it wasn’t until the third page that a fire was even mentioned. It was only in a small story that the fire was mentioned, and you sighed a bit as you pulled out the microfilm to replace it with the next film.

Continuing your loading and skimming thrice more, you groaned a bit at the lack of information that each paper was giving you. The papers would only talk about the places that were set on fire, and if people were hurt in the fire. None of them talked about previous fires nor what kind of investigations were being conducted in regard to the fires.

It was as you were unloading the 5th film that you noticed the dates of each fire. They weren’t terribly close in time, but they were almost consistent in being 1 month and some days apart. Looking at the date of the last fire, it was odd that they stopped so suddenly after what seemed to be a consistent year of fires. Grabbing the microfilm of the last fire mentioned on the string of written down dates, you loaded it up and flipped down the glass.

The front page had the main headline talk about the biggest fire of the previous ones, one that had consumed half of a neighborhood and had killed over 20 people. But you barely noticed the details written on the page as the picture on the front caught your eye. Lain, the murderous liver-stealing demon, was standing on the front page, his face full of tears as he appeared to be talking to a reporter near the fire. The quality of the page wasn’t very clear, but you recognized the man’s face and his tattoo.

Something was wrong, however, something you couldn’t exactly point out within the picture. You felt tight, your breath caught in your chest as you stared at the page, your eyes refusing to move away from it. The coil of dread had filled you quickly when your eyes first saw Lain, and now it was threatening you as you continued to look at the page.

Quickly you turned off the machine, the glass lifting and releasing the film from below it. You were finally able to release your breath as you pushed yourself away from the reader, and you spun yourself away from the machine as you brought your hand up to your chest. Your breaths came out quickly, and you pressed on your chest to try to even them out.

When you had finally collected yourself after a minute, you pulled the microfilm from the machine slowly and set it back in place inside the archives room. You kept the paper full of dates however, and you folded it into the pocket of your bag as you sat yourself back into your seat.

For the rest of the shift, all you did was work on the few reservations that you had. It was boring, but you didn’t want nor have the energy to do anything else.

Shaking your keys out, you inserted the library key and locked the door before you threw them back into your bag. The dense feeling in you appeared again after you had taken a few steps from the library, and you found yourself moving faster than usual as you made your way home once again. You could barely feel your legs as you crossed the bridge, and your lungs were burning as you breathed rapidly. Even as you jogged down the alley and entered your home, your lungs refused to hold the air for very long.

You made sure to check the locks on the door twice before you turned away from the front door, and you didn’t even want to bother changing your dressings as your hands were shaking tremendously as you sat yourself down on your bed. You let your bag fall from your shoulder and to the ground as you slid toward the edge of your bed.

Reaching forward, you opened your drawer and grabbed the pill bottle again. You had taken 4 before, and it seemed to work, but as you tried to pour out the pills into the lid, 6 came out. Accepting that your hand wasn’t going to cooperate with you, you downed the 6 pills, again without water, and twisted on the cap again. You threw the bottle back in the drawer and kicked it closed with your foot, a bit too roughly as it slammed shut.

Throwing yourself back onto your comforter, you closed your eyes and focused only on your breathing as you waited for your body to drag you back into sleep.

You were back at work again, back to stocking shelves, back to the normal again. Maybe that would’ve been the most terrifying thing about what was happening if you didn’t know what was coming. But you knew what was going to happen.

You couldn’t stop yourself from leaving the library, the door slamming shut behind you. It irritated you that you knew you left the door unlocked, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

Your body was moving on its own along the already set path, and although the path was so familiar to you, it was completely wrong. The parked cars weren’t where they normally were, the houses were distorted and broken down, and the street was dark and barely visible under everything.

You could barely recall walking the entirety of your way home, but you quickly found yourself back in the alley.

There they were again, the beady eyes that screamed hunger as they stared at you. Something was different about them though, something you couldn’t point out.

The eyes grew closer to you, and try as you might, your body refused to move as the beginnings of a figure began to appear under the suddenly turn-on alley lights.

The figure was unfamiliar, not the demon beast you had seen in previous dreams during your sleep, and you already wanted to scream. It wasn’t until the mouth of the beast opened and let out a puff of smoke that you were able to scream though.

Your body refused to move though, even when the gigantic snake came within reaching distance of you, it’s mouth slowly opening the closer it got.

The more that you saw of the inside of the demon’s mouth, the louder you screamed, and the faster time seemed to move on.

Finally, all you could see was the inside of the beast’s mouth, the edges of your sight that could once see the alleyway walls completely were covered with the flesh of the demon covering the entirety of you.

Darkness slowly consumed you as the beast closed its mouth, and your screams echoed off of the walls around you.

You weren’t sure how you had even become aware of the loud noise, and you weren’t sure how you had gotten yourself to the front door, but as you stood in front of it with a man standing just outside your apartment, you felt your body feel just as fuzzy as your head did from being pulled out of sleep suddenly.

You didn’t know the man standing outside your apartment, his face familiar but also completely new to you as you stood before him, your right arm holding the door open as he stared you down. The right side of his face was scarred up, and under his hair he seemed to be missing his right ear, something that you tried not to focus on as you wondered who he could be.

You wanted to say something to him, but nothing came out of your mouth as your brain tried to form words. You found it hard to even stand up and hold the door, let alone move your mouth to form complicated sounds. You shuffled your feet a bit, trying to find a better way to stand as you waited for the man to speak.

Your movement seemed to affect the man and he quickly stepped into your space, taking you off guard with your arm quickly pulling free form the door as you stumbled backwards into your home. Your back met with the wall, however, and you let yourself lean against it as the man stepped closer, his arm coming up to push the door completely open before he grabbed at the edge of the door. You watched the man’s arm reel back and slam the door shut hard enough that one of your decorative paintings nearby fell to the floor.

It was as you were staring at the man’s arm that your heart skipped a beat, the coil of dread filling every inch of your body as realization smacked you in the face as you finally knew why the photograph you had seen of the culprit, Lain, looked so wrong.

His tattoo was on the wrong arm.

#devil may cry #dmc #fanfic #dmc fanfic #dante #reader #dante/reader #second person #text post #read more #mine #myfic #my story #SGAATN

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1112lw · 5 years

Note

Every question!!

SDFFSDFG DAM OK SIS

LONG POST AHEAD IF U LITERALLY WANNA KNOW ME PERSONALLY JUST READ THIS LMFAO

1: Name: Arche/Jupiter, my close friends know my real name so!

2: Age: High school has just been done so try to guess

3: Fears: Heights, oral presentations, the dark

4: 3 things I love: Drawing, men- concept art n stuff like that

5: 4 turns on: Oh here we go- uhh thighs, messy hair? when they give u The Look or when they. say things i will not talk about here HHGBDF n uhhh Arms 👀👀

6: 4 turns off: weird macho attitude, overly confident bullshit, being selfish and fuckboys in general

7: My best friend: not sure what this means but my bff is named Daphnée n i love her and ive known her my whole life so

8: Sexual orientation: homosexuale

9: My best first date: :))))))) as if

10: How tall am I: sigh. I’m 5″4

11: What do I miss: sometimes i miss the feeling loved ig

12: What time were I born: 12:19

13: Favourite color: pink!

14: Do I have a crush

15: Favourite quote: My senior quote!! “if what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, I’m telling you I’m immortal”

16: Favourite place: well? my room ig? I like my yard too

17: Favourite food: ugh ramen,,,korean dishes are TASTE as fuck but i also like classic ass spaghetti so like lol

18: Do I use sarcasm: does it look like i dont

19: What am I listening to right now: dr.phil LMFAO

20: First thing I notice in new person: Hair and eyes!! also how they laugh

21: Shoe size: Like. a 7-8 in women’s 6 in men’s

22: Eye color: Hazel/Golden yes bitch let me be special

23: Hair color: it’s either dark brown or golden brown idk

24: Favourite style of clothing: bruv its either kpoppie fuckboy or uwu skirts pastels

25: Ever done a prank call?: no i have anxiety

26: Meaning behind my URL:

27: Favourite movie: rise of the guardians and HTTYD

28: Favourite song: Comeback Home (BTS cover)

29: Favourite band: looks in the camera i dont know nan molla huh

30: How I feel right now: I’m fine im hungry

31: Someone I love: shoutout to my babeys in my server ily

32: My current relationship status: Single(tm)

33: My relationship with my parents: theyre fine ig just a bit tired

34: Favourite holiday:

35: Tattoos and piercing I have: Ear piercings? that’s it

36: Tattoos and piercings I want:

37: The reason I joined Tumblr:

38: Do I and my last ex hate each other? I sure hope not?

39: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts? A bit ig?

40: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted? Literally no

41: When did I last hold hands? Like last Friday

42: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning? 20 minutes

43: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days? no i havent shaved in like months

44: Where am I right now? in my room, in quebec, canada

45: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me? bitch i sure hope my friends would

46: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level? fuck my ears

47: Do I live with my Mom and Dad? yeah

48: Am I excited for anything? yeah? yeah

49: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to? ig? always

50: How often do I wear a fake smile? just at work tbh

51: When was the last time I hugged someone? not long ago i cant tell but my friends r cuddle monsters so

52: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me? i havent kissed anyone so

53: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not? lemme think uhhh no not rlly im not dumb

54: What is something I disliked about today? i woke up n i thought i had school lol

55: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? oh john cock i want to be ur best friend

56: What do I think about most? i daydream 24/7

57: What’s my strangest talent? uhhh i can put my thumb behind my hand?

58: Do I have any strange phobias? trypophobia, if thats “weird”

59: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? depends on what the video is, mostly behind

60: What was the last lie I told? idk answering to my deadname

61: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? online

62: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens? I slightly believe in ghosts? also aliens GOTTA exist so

63: Do I believe in magic? i think!

64: Do I believe in luck? yeah

65: What’s the weather like right now? very pretty i filmed a video outside!!

66: What was the last book I’ve read? L’Étranger d’Albert Camus in french class

67: Do I like the smell of gasoline? yes my dad’s a mechanic

68: Do I have any nicknames? a lot a lot

69: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had? bitch @ my birth #neverforget

70: Do I spend money or save it? i have 40$ in my name right now

71: Can I touch my nose with a tounge? no

72: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me? yes highlighter

73: Favourite animal? cats or otters

74: What was I doing last night at 12 AM? FBISDFD NO WE DONT TALK ABOUT IT

75: What do I think is Satan’s last name idk he can have any last name he wants!!!

76: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it? everytime i start hearing “waiting for you anpanman” or “i just wanna go home” 👀👀

77: How can you win my heart? aaahh. be a twink. b fashionable. b funny. cheesy. pls romance me like a npc in the sims 2

78: What would I want to be written on my tombstone? s(he) died smh

79: What is my favorite word? cunt is SUCH a satisfying word

80: My top 5 blogs on tumblr? oh great uh honestly cant be fucked

81: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say? please have brain. PLEASE

82: Do I have any relatives in jail? i sure hope the fuck not?

83: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power? either invisibility or mind reading

84: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on? ahaaa “what are your intrusive thoughts”

85: What is my current desktop picture? my lesbian sims getting married LMFAO

86: Had sex? no

87: Bought condoms? no

88: Gotten pregnant? NO

89: Failed a class? i think yeah maths last year

90: Kissed a boy? :(((

91: Kissed a girl? no

92: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain? no

93: Had job? I have a job rn so

94: Left the house without my wallet? yeah when i go to school

95: Bullied someone on the internet? define bullying?

96: Had sex in public? virgin squad

97: Played on a sports team? yeah

98: Smoked weed? no ew

99: Did drugs? no ew

100: Smoked cigarettes? NO EW

101: Drank alcohol? yep

102: Am I a vegetarian/vegan? no i’d die

103: Been overweight? i’m twig

104: Been underweight? i think i was underweight when i was young? i was very Small

105: Been to a wedding? yes very long boring

106: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight? bruh. everyday

107: Watched TV for 5 hours straight? probably?

108: Been outside my home country? ONCE

109: Gotten my heart broken? TWICE !

110: Been to a professional sports game? yesss canadians game!!

111: Broken a bone? no

112: Cut myself? not technically

113: Been to prom? SOON SOON SOON SOSOSNSBFSHDD

114: Been in airplane? once

115: Fly by helicopter? i am not rich bitch

116: What concerts have I been to? noneeee- WAIT NO MARIE MAI

117: Had a crush on someone of the same sex? not sex but for the purpose of pretending i have a penis yes plenty

118: Learned another language? yeah!! i learned english, i almost learned spanish and i’m trynna learn korean now

119: Wore make up? i try!! but i’m not super good

120: Lost my virginity before I was 18? not 18 yet but it’s goin that way

121: Had oral sex? as if

122: Dyed my hair? i wishhh

123: Voted in a presidential election? I WISH THE ELECTIONS R ONE MONTH B4 MY BIRTHDAY

124: Rode in an ambulance? nope

125: Had a surgery? yes at a week old

126: Met someone famous? i think yes but i was super small

127: Stalked someone on a social network? define stalked?

128: Peed outside? yes

129: Been fishing? YES

130: Helped with charity? i think? we do volunteering so

131: Been rejected by a crush? not directly

132: Broken a mirror? no

133: What do I want for birthday? boyf......boy..boyff

134: How many kids do I want and what will be their names? oh man uhh maybe 2-3, i dont know their names yet honestly

135: Was I named after anyone? MY DAD NAMED ME AFTER A FUCKIN CLIENT HE MET. as for my actual name now I named myself after my fav video game character. lit

136: Do I like my handwriting? yeah!!

137: What was my favourite toy as a child? bitch hot wheels

138: Favourite Tv Show? hells kitchen,,,,judge judy,,,anythin like that

139: Where do I want to live when older? honestly i wish i could just live in japan or tokyo, or new york? but i will most likely end up in montreal

140: Play any musical instrument? i used to play the clarinet last year!!

141: One of my scars, how did I get it? the one on my knee, i scratched my desk with my knee

142: Favourite pizza toping? my dad makes AMAZING sea food pizzas,,,

143: Am I afraid of the dark? a lot

144: Am I afraid of heights? A LOT

145: Have I ever got caught sneaking out or doing anything bad? idk prolly? im a bit of a goody two shoes or however u spell it

146: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end: dont we all

147: What I’m really bad at: organizing my anxiety n shit i get overwhelmed

148: What my greatest achievments are: finishing high school

149: The meanest thing somebody has ever said to me: honestly has to be that time someone dug up my vent post about being dysphoric to try to say i hated myself with some dumbass DySphorIa Is SelF HaTRed argument

150: What I’d do if I won in a lottery: pay my parents’ debt off, buy 284223$ of BT21 merch, pay my whole college/uni and transition

151: What do I like about myself: idk i like how i literally do not give a fuck anymore and ive learned to love myself instead of trynna care

152: My closest Tumblr friend: @peptobismol-official @ace-landofthesun @dorkalisious and ana but idk her @ anymore :((( ana pls

153: Something I fantasise about: we dont talk about that

154: Any thoughts on the paranormal?: lit. please stop crawling in my ceiling !

ok now that u know my whole biography. go doxx me ig. bye bye

#Arche.txt #asks #ask #long post

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apriumjam · 6 years

Text

Satsuriku no Tenshi Light Novel Volume 1 - B5

Satsuriku no Tenshi - Until Death Do Them Part - B5

Story by Makoto Sanada, written by Chiren Kina, illustrations by Negiyan, translations by me.

If you want to help out with translations, feel free to contact me!

Prologue | B7 | B6 | B5 | B4 (Part 1 / Part 2) | B3 (Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4) | Zack’s Memory || Index

With a terrible vertigo, Ray gets off the elevator. As she takes deep breaths to calm herself, she’s suddenly aware of the strong scent of antiseptic.

(Is this a hospital…?)

Her blurry vision slowly returns to normal, revealing that the current floor is utterly unlike the floor she had been on previously. It’s like an extremely clean hospital, and reminds her of the floor she had woken up on. But the atmosphere is different. That floor didn’t give her even the slightest impression of vitality. This floor feels as if someone was just recently hard at work here – it feels alive. Taking a single glance at the ground, she can see that every single tile shines brightly from having been freshly polished – someone has obviously recently been cleaning.

But, because the light isn’t on, it’s very dark.

The single source of light she can see is at what appears to be the reception desk, where a large computer gives off a pale, cold light.

As if drawn in toward that light, Ray briskly walks toward the desk.

Behind it are numerous tall glass shelves, filled with various medications arranged in a peculiarly tidy manner. Small lightbulbs shine upon them from within the shelves, almost as if they had been placed there for display purposes. The medicine bottles shimmer beneath the light.

On the computer screen is a slideshow of eyeballs scrolling past, one after another.

(I feel sick…)

There is a small analogue clock near the computer. Ray has no way of telling whether it is day or night, but the time has stopped near eight o’clock.

(So I guess it’s eight…)

An image of a clock surfaces within the girl’s mind. But it isn’t the clock she sees right in front of her right now – it’s a wall-mounted clock with a cute little bird motif.

(Is that the clock in my room…?)

That’s the feeling I get, but I can’t remember…

And for some reason, when she tries to remember – she feels afraid.

(Anyway, I have to find a way to get out of here, before that thing finds me…)

She’s certain that if he finds her again, he’ll kill her. She completely lacks the confidence that she’ll be able to escape should he chase her again.

(I wonder if I can find a map or something of this place…)

Gulping, Ray begins opening various drawers.

However, she’s unable to find anything that might tell her about the building. Instead, she finds various patient charts, likely containing information about the patients’ data and symptoms. Unfortunately, the handwriting is no better than chicken scratchings, and Ray is unable to read them.

(Looks like there’s nothing here, then…)

Feeling rather disappointed, Ray leaves the reception area –

And that’s when she sees someone tall leaving one of the examination rooms, heading straight for her.

(…!)

She doesn’t know who that is. But she instinctively feels that she must run away. Alas, the moment she begins to flee, that mysterious person grabs her dainty arm and calls out to her.

“Wait, Rachel! It’s me.”

The slightly urgent tug on her arm prompts Ray to turn toward him, even as she forcibly tries to pull her arm away.

(He said my name…?)

“Rachel, have you forgotten me?”

“…Eh?” Ray’s eyes widen a little. Unlike that man from before, this one has a gentle face.

“Listen…I’m the one who examined you. Don’t you remember?”

(…Examined?)

“I’m your counsellour!”

In that moment, the sound of a bell resonates in Ray’s ears. It’s certainly the same sound she heard when she first opened her eyes.

“You’re…the doctor who examined me…?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m your physician, Doctor Danny.”

(Doctor…Danny…)

That name sounds familiar. And, dimly, she can remember some kind of counselling session.

That’s right…the doctor that always looked over me in that counselling room…wore a white lab coat…and had glasses…

The man in the faint memories called back to her looks quite similar to the man standing in front of her right now.

“…Doctor Danny…my counsellour…”

Ray repeats those words as if to revive more of her memories. However, despite the fact that she’s able to recall the appearance of the counselling room, she’s unable to clearly remember the face of the psychiatrist who had examined her.

…But…I’m sure that it was Doctor Danny.

“Rachel, you seem a bit scared. Well, I suppose that’s to be expected…this place is quite scary, after all. But relax. I’m most certainly your doctor. …Right?”

As if to calm her, Danny smiles gently at her.

(…I feel as if during our sessions, he would always smile at me like this, too…)

“…Okay, doctor.”

As she faintly remembers that smiling face, for an instant, Ray feels as her strength is about to leave her – and she finally looks at Danny with the same empty eyes she had had when she had awoken.

“Ah, you’ve remembered me. And…it’s good you’re all right. You’re smart, though, so I figured you would make it this far.” Danny sinks into silence. His expression morphs into one of severe brooding as he stares into her tranquil blue eyes.

“…Doctor, why are you here?” Ray finds his expression somewhat suspicious, and can’t help but pose this question.

“I…before I realised it, I found myself here. I can’t find the exit, you see, and I’ve been here for quite a while…but there’s no one else here on this floor except for me anymore.”

Danny answers her after what seems to be a bit of thought.

(No one else…)

Thinking back on it, there had been no one on B7, either – and B6 had only housed that grim reaper-like man.

“You know, doctor, I’m really scared…I was even chased by something earlier, too… What is this place…?” Ray asks, her small shoulders shaking. That insane laughter still reverberates through her ears. It had sounded like something out of some terrifying movie.

“Rachel, the one who was chasing you was most likely…a serial killer. This place is kind of scary, you see – it seems to be some kind of game for them. The murderers give chase, and kill whoever they manage to catch… I’ve heard the ones being chased are called sacrifices.”

“…Sacrifices?” Ray recalls the broadcast she had heard in the elevator when she had been going up to B6. Though she hadn’t heard it properly, she feels like she had heard that word.

“I don’t really know the details, either. Anyway – let’s go. If possible, I’d like to survive this place with you.” Danny takes the girl’s slightly cold hand and smiles gently at her.

“Yeah…”

(Is doctor a sacrifice…too?)

An angel, or a sacrifice?

Those words, that had seemed like magic, surface in Ray’s mind as she gazes at the doctor’s somehow nostalgic smile.

▲▽

After that, the two of them walk in a silence so deep and profound, they might as well be beneath the sea.

Danny walks briskly and surely, like he knows this place by heart – even though neither of them can see the end of the hallway. There is not the slightest bit of hesitation in the man’s actions.

“Doctor, have you been trapped here for a long time?” Ray asks, looking up at Danny’s face. Truthfully, the man is so calm that the word trapped seems to be inaccurate, and she feels rather uncomfortable in his presence.

“I guess you could say that… Rachel, are you worried you won’t be able to leave?”

“I think I’ll be all right if I’m with you…” Ray says this a bit breathlessly. Though, truthfully, she doesn’t feel that way – she merely has the unconscious feeling that this is what she must say.

“That’s true. Even if we aren’t able to get out, so long as we leisurely spend time together like this, something good might happen. Something good for you, as well as for me. Ah, I’m truly happy that you came, Rachel.” Danny glances toward her as if an idea has suddenly occurred to him.

“…? Yeah…”

(Was he…always like this?)

She tries to remember her counselling sessions with him. But she can’t recall even a fragment of what she had talked to the doctor about or why she had come to him for counselling.

After a while of walking down that dark hallway, the two of them come to an enormous pane of glass blocking the rest of the way.

“…A dead end,” Ray murmurs with a sigh. Framed behind the glass, she can see the hallway continue on; it’s like looking at an exceptionally strange painting.

“Yes…we can’t go any farther. Since this glass is very sturdy.” With a slightly troubled expression, Danny knocks on the glass a couple times.

“I see…”

(…Because, he’s been locked up for a long time, right?)

And as that thought surfaces in Ray’s mind –

“It seems that the two of us are locked up here together, huh?” Danny says pleasantly, gazing through the glass.

“…Eh?”

It could be a joke to relieve the strain on Ray’s mind. But that statement seems far too unnatural.

Because, just a while ago, he said he wants to leave this place with me…

“…Come, Rachel. I’ll take you to that room. The door is unlocked.” Turning his gaze away from Ray, whose brows are furrowed in consternation, he points toward a door they had passed when they had been walking earlier.

▲▽

“A special patient once stayed here.”

In the room is a single pure white bed, its frame composed of stainless steel. The bed is surrounded by a tall enclosure. While it appears clean and tidy, there is a scent in the air that reminds Ray of blood. The two IVs arranged near the bed still have some sort of liquid inside them.

(This is…?)

Near the pillow is an emergency button. However, as the girl looks closer, she notices that the button has already been pressed. Not only that, it even has a small crack in the centre.

“Have you met this patient, doctor?” Ray asks, staring at that strange crack.

“Yes. But she died shortly after I arrived here.”

“Why?”

“An illness.”

“She wasn’t being treated?”

“I…am a psychiatrist. I can do nothing but give my support to those whose minds are ill.”

(A sick mind…?)

Was my mind sick…?

Surely it must be something like that – though she cannot remember what occurred before she came to the hospital. That’s why, in this moment, Rachel can only think of herself as a completely normal girl.

“…Doctor, what did I come to you for counselling for?”

“You really can’t remember, Rachel?” The doctor stares intently at her eyes, as if he’s been torn from something desperately important to him.

“…No.”

“I see. Then I’ll have to remind you immediately… More importantly, take a look at this. Try to read it.” Looking a bit eager now, Danny points toward the writing on the wall.

“Do you know your own wish?

“Do you have something you desire?

“If that is your instinct, then fighting against it is meaningless.

“For if it were not, you would not be here.

“Every wish has a price.

“Do not break the rules.”

“Do these mean anything…?” Ray recalls the other words she read on the lower floors. They were all like this – written in white chalk.

“Yes, probably. I only noticed this recently, but there must be some rules for this place. After all, that killer didn’t follow you here.”

(…Rules…)

A flash of realisation overcomes Ray as she thinks. Certainly, the door for the elevator to B5 is now open. So if that man was still chasing her…surely he would have already caught up to her by now. But it seems as if he has no intention of pursuing her.

(Is that because that’s one of the rules…?)

“Then, what about the ‘wish’?” Ray asks as she thinks.

“Who knows? I guess everyone has their own. But…yeah. I…want pretty eyes. My right eye is bad… I don’t like the colour, either. If I had eyes like yours…I’d be overjoyed.” Danny’s answer comes quietly, as he looks down at her pretty face, yet with some vestiges of immaturity.

(He doesn’t like the colour…?)

As Ray looks up at Danny’s right eye, she sees that it certainly doesn’t seem to shine very brightly; however, it still looks like a normal eye to her.

I wonder what he means when he says he wants pretty eyes…

As suspicion begins to cloud her mind, she notices a small window out of the corner of her eye. Seized by some strange sense of anxiety, the girl runs to the window. There’s no light. No matter how hard she looks, she can’t get any sense of depth of what lies outside; in fact, she can’t see anything at all. All she can see are several scratch marks, as if someone has torn at the material with their nails with all their strength.

“Rachel, do you know what these marks are?” Softly coming closer to her, Danny begins to trace the markings with his finger.

Ray shakes her head slightly.

“…I’ll give you a hint. A patient made these marks. …Now, do you understand what they mean?”

(What they…mean?)

“…No.” Her reply is quiet. No matter how much she thinks, she can’t come up with an answer.

Seeing her puzzled expression, the doctor looks somehow satisfied. It’s almost as if he’s pleased that she doesn’t know the answer.

“Then that’s fine. You don’t need to know the meaning of these marks.” He smiles with his usual, soft smile.

“Do you know the answer, doctor…?” Ray asks quietly. His manner of speaking implies that he does.

“No, and I don’t want to. More importantly, let’s go find the exit.” As if dodging her question, the man simply produces a beaming smile, and grips Ray’s hand as if to lead her away.

(…Ah.)

However, in that moment, Ray’s eyes land on another set of markings on the wall – they look like words.

“Doctor, I have the feeling there’s something written over there.”

Shaking his hand off, the girl runs to the other wall.

“…lp…help me… I’m sca…

“There…three… …I’m…only one he…

“…’re coming...kill m… …only…one…”

Most of it is covered in dust, so Ray can’t read it completely. She lifts a hand to begin wiping the dust off.

But in that instant –

“Stop! You’ll get dirt in your eye!”

Until now, he’s been so calm and gentle – but now his expression has completely changed as he shouts those words. Grabbing her arm roughly, he tears her away from the wall.

(…?!)

Doctor, that hurts.

Despite wanting to say that, Ray keeps her mouth shut. Somehow, it doesn’t feel as if she can say that right now. Danny’s facial expression is wildly different from earlier – until now, he’s been able to seem completely normal.

“Rachel, take care of your eyes. Because they’re so beautiful that I can’t help but want them.”

He speaks as if scolding her, gazing at her blue eyes as if they might be unpolished raw gems. Her eyes are reflected in his own.

“But, there’s something written…” She speaks hesitantly, unnerved by his insistent speech, as she glances at the wall once again.

“It’s surely just the patient’s boring whining. Just a regular person’s complaining.”

“You can read it, doctor…?”

“No, one of my eyes isn’t good…but it’s definitely something useless. Now, Rachel, your eyes must be a bit worn out now. How about you take an afternoon nap in my room?”

“A nap, now?” she asks quietly, confused by his usage of the words afternoon nap.

“…You’re right! That was silly of me. You’re so smart, Rachel!” Once again, he smiles sweetly, evading her question.

“…Is it noon?” Feeling somewhat distrustful of his attitude, Ray asks once again.

“Hmm, if you think it’s noon, then it must be noon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have no idea. I’ve been here for so long that I can’t tell what time it is. Come along, Rachel, let’s go to my room.”

▲▽

Danny pulls Ray down the hallway somewhat forcibly. Tugging her down a bend in the corridor, he makes his way to a room at the very end of the hall.

“I found this key shortly after I arrived here.” And, taking a small cardkey from his lab coat, he opens the door.

(It looks like that other card…)

Ray is immediately reminded of the card she picked up after she buried the bird. It had opened the door for the hallway that lead to the elevator.

I wonder if his key could open the special patient’s room, too…

“Is this an operating room…?” Whilst thinking, the girl looks around the room from where she stands in the doorway. It looks precisely like an operating room. Against the walls are cold, stainless steel shelves, upon which are numerous sorts of tools and utensils. When Ray concentrates her gaze, it looks as if the tools are smeared in some sticky, dark substance, like blood.

(I thought this place wasn’t used anymore…)

Grimacing slightly, Ray steps into the room.

“I always spent my time here.”

Danny smiles as he scratches the pale green surgical table. It looks as if someone has left marks on it.

“…I’m a little scared.” It’s an instinctive feeling, borne of the terrible stench that assails her nose as she looks around the room.

“Are you? There’s no need, Rachel. This is just a normal room. More importantly…would you let me look at your eyes, Rachel?” Smiling as he approaches the trembling girl, Danny grasps her by the chin and tilts her head up. And then he speaks, earnestly, as if reciting poetry –

“Oh, Rachel, your eyes truly are beautiful…but they’re so full of fear… Almost like normal eyes… I’m so sad. I want to see your real, lovely eyes… I wonder if they’ll return to that exquisite stillness, like that blue moon, once you wake up from this nightmare…?”

(Nightmare…? Normal eyes…?)

Ray doesn’t really understand what Danny is talking about.

“Listen, Rachel…I’ve always wanted to live with those eyes of yours.” Danny’s expression almost looks as if he’s about to burst into tears as he gently traces the flesh around the girl’s eyes.

“Doctor…?”

(Why is he sad that my eyes are “normal”…?)

She doesn’t understand… And I feel like he’s acting differently than before…

She’s suddenly bombarded by a thick, oppressive unease. Instinctively, she takes several steps away from the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve always been alone, so I’ve picked up this habit of talking to myself. It’s strange, I know.” Speaking rather offhandedly, he picks up a cup from among the various tools and splashes in some pure black coffee from the coffee maker. He takes a sip before he speaks again, his ring finger tracing his lips contemplatively. “Speaking of which…it seems I’ve forgotten something in the back room.”

“You forgot something…?” The girl stares blankly at the man’s retreating figure, unsure of what to make of his sudden statement.

“But it’s really dark in there…and my eye isn’t good, so I’m sure I won’t be able to find it… Do you think you could get it for me, Rachel?”

“What is it…?”

“You don’t remember?” He smiles softly.

“…I don’t.” Ray shakes her head.

“I see…I’ll give you a hint.”

“My eye is alexandrite.”

With his gaze downcast, the man recites those words as if they might be a spell, playfully holding his index finger against his mouth.

▲▽

(What did he forget…?)

He said something about alexandrite…is he talking about a jewel?

Encroached by a growing anxiety thanks to the ineffectual hint, Ray continues down the short hallway in the surgery room.

She finds herself in a small, dimly lit room, similar to a shed. The orderliness with which it appears to be organised is almost odd. The only source of light in the room is a small blue light bulb flickering in the ceiling.

It would appear that this room is supplied by water; she can hear water droplets trickling from a facet somewhere in the room, falling in even intervals. The room smells faintly of rust.

(I wonder if that coffee was made from this water…)

The tall steel shelves are lined with clear jars, all filled with various specimens. One especially large one is filled with some sort of liquid, and contains a countless number of small round objects bobbing up and down.

(These are…eyes…)

“They’re…all blue…”

Unthinkingly, she takes several steps back from that ghastly sight, and stumbles over a large white box. With a loud crash, she tumbles to the ground along with the box – and from it spill a vast number of fake eyes. Red, green, blue – the three colours roll about the floor chaotically.

“…Rachel, have you found my eye?”

Her heart jumps. She hears Danny’s voice sounding out behind her.

“Doctor…what are these…?”

Despite understanding that these are fake eyes, Ray wants confirmation. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that Danny’s forgotten item might be an eye. Because, after all, as the doctor had peered at her above the rims of his glasses in the darkness – she had clearly seen herself reflected in those eyes.

“Those are eyes. Say, Rachel, which one do you think is mine?”

(His eye…?)

Still completely bewildered, the girl looks among the scattered eyeballs, and finally points at a blue one, the same colour as her own eyes.

“I…want pretty eyes. If I had eyes like yours…I’d be overjoyed.”

(That’s what the doctor said…)

“Hahah, Rachel, I’m happy. You mean the blue one, right? I really do adore blue eyes. You have them, too. But…I don’t need that blue one. It’s nothing but a poor imitation…compared to your eyes. The only blue eyes I need are yours.”

For a single instant, he glares at the eye Ray has pointed out, then curves his mouth as he looks toward Ray’s. It isn’t – a real smile. After all…Ray’s eyes as they are in that moment aren’t the ones he desires. Danny knows better than anyone else what Ray’s eyes truly look like.

“Come, Rachel. Would you look at me with those lovely eyes of yours? What sort of face did I make back then? Try to remember our private meetings…the ones outside the counselling room.”

(Outside the counselling room…?)

But Ray cannot remember anything about herself prior to coming here. The only thing she can recall are her counselling sessions with Danny – but even those memories are faint and indistinct.

“…I don’t remember meeting you outside the hospital.”

“…I see. You still can’t remember everything about me.” With an exaggeratedly keen expression, the man continues – “Oh, I see. I remember. My eye is in that drawer. Could you open it? It’s dark, I can’t see very well.” All at once, he’s gently smiling again, pointing toward a small drawer amongst the shelves.

“Okay…”

For some reason feeling as if she mustn’t disobey him, she approaches the drawer as prompted and opens it. Inside is a single artificial eye. Ray picks it up – and nearly drops it.

(…! This eye…has two irises…)

A red and a green eye seem to glare at Ray from within the glittering white eyeball.

“Rachel, that’s my eye. You still can’t remember…even if you look at that?” Quietly creeping closer to the girl, Danny whispers in her ear.

“…No.” Fearfully, the girl twists her neck to peer at the man over her shoulder.

“You’re…still trapped in that dream. Would you give me that eye now, Rachel? I guess I’m not really myself without it. For you, and for myself, I need to put it in.”

(In order to regain your memories…)

Smiling sweetly, Danny holds out his hand.

(For him and for me…?)

Her eyebrows furrow at his words – but she still extends her hand to give him the eye.

“Thank you, Rachel. I’ll put this on now, so…would you wait a bit in the other room?”

Having received the artificial eye, Danny brushes his bangs aside and slowly pulls his right eye out of its socket.

(He…doesn’t have…an eye…)

The empty darkness gaping at her from the man’s skull looks like nothing more than a black hole.

“I won’t forgive you if you run away.” That darkness seems to glower at her.

▲▽

Returning to the operating room, Ray recalls each and every one of Danny’s strange actions around her.

(It’s odd…)

I can’t remember anything, but…the doctor who acted as my counsellour didn’t behave like that… I’m certain of it.

(Is it okay to just wait here like this…?)

I’m kind of scared…

She wants to leave immediately. Filled with a growing unease, she pushes on the door. But it seems to be locked.

(…Did he do this?)

Danny is the only one on this floor… He used to be the only one on this floor. That patient died…after he came…

I have to run! I have to get away from here…!

“I have to…!”

Her voice trickles out – and someone gently rests a hand on her shoulder. That soft touch seems to say, I won’t let you run. And then the grip tightens.

“Rachel, where were you going…?”

Danny whispers against her ear.

“…Doc…tor…”

(What should I – )

Her entire body trembles.

“I just said you can’t run away, right? This is…my floor.”

“…Your floor…?”

“Ah, yes. So if you run away to some other floor…I won’t be able to do anything to you myself.”

“On this floor is someone befitting of it.

“This individual is not permitted to leave their own floor.

“If you do not wish to be killed by this person, you must progress to the next floor.”

Ray recalls those words. Those are definitely the rules Danny spoke of.

(…He – isn’t a sacrifice…)

So that means…?

He’s going…to kill me.

The instant she realises this, she begins to scream.

“…No, doctor…! Let me go!”

If she’s killed, she won’t be able to go home anymore. And she doesn’t want to die yet.

But Danny ignores her cries, and pulls roughly upon her dainty wrist. He hauls her onto the operating table.

“You know, Rachel, I…wished to gaze at your living eyes forever. But, I have to do this. After all…you no longer have my ideal eyes…” Pinning her to the table with his hands, he speaks as if about to weep.

“So, Rachel…give me your eyes.”

That eye, split into two, looks down at her in contempt.

(Give him my eyes…? No…I’m scared!)

I want to go home…!

Those grotesque eyes stare down at her as she struggles wildly – and Ray loses consciousness.

▲▽

She has a tiny dream.

In the dream, she sits on the living room sofa, listening to her favourite music box. She sews her dolls as if in a trancelike state. The exact instant the music box stops, the dolls are complete. And they are quite a bit larger than herself.

(Ah, good. They’re done…)

The moment she squeezes them tightly to her chest, she regains consciousness.

(A dream…)

Realising she has returned to the real world, she timidly opens her eyes. Her dainty arms and legs have been restrained against the operating table. She can’t move.

“…Ah, Rachel. You’ve awakened.” Danny’s bicoloured eye seems to glare at her blue ones.

(Rachel…how can you look at me like that? Like you’re nothing more than a frail little girl…)

Your eyes really have become just plain blue eyes. Rachel, I’m so sad…

“Come on, can you really not remember why you’re here? Or why you’ve ended up like this…? If you do, you’ll be able to reclaim yourself. Take back those wonderful eyes of yours and live with me, Rachel…!”

He grips her hand tightly, his expression like that of one in prayer. It’s like he’s desperately waiting for her to come back to life.

“…” Looking at him, for a single instant, Ray feels like she might already be dead. She feels as if she’s become nothing more than a doll, like the one she was sewing in the dream.

“…It won’t work, huh.” Grimacing, Danny bites at one of his fingers in frustration.

(…When I woke up, I was here… I don’t know why… I want to go home.)

“Please, Doctor, let me go. I want to go back to my mom and dad…!” Ray gazes at Danny with earnest eyes, like those of a regular girl.

“…Rachel, I can’t do that. Certainly, your eyes are ordinary now…but they are far, far more beautiful than anyone else’s I have ever seen…” He gently touches her cheek.

“You can meet your mother and father very soon…” His words have a hint of laughter behind them.

“…How?”

“Right after I kill you.”

“…If I die, I won’t be able to meet them…”

“That’s not true. Because your mother and father…are waiting for you in hell.”

That ringing sound reverberates against her eardrums.

“Come, Rachel, look at me…”

Ring. Almost as if in response to Danny’s words, that sound resonates once again. It’s louder this time.

Suddenly, she remembers that full moon.

(That moon…)

…It was a blue moon.

An unnaturally blue full moon…

“Rachel…?”

Yes…that night…a blue full moon floated outside the sky in the window, as if she had been looking at a completely different world.

(…I…)

“…”

The sound rings out again, and Ray’s long eyelashes gently flutter against her cheeks as she slowly blinks. And, with eyes dull, as if she’s seen the end of the world – with eyes just like from before she lost her memories, she gazes at Danny.

“…Doctor Danny.” Despite her the wavering in her voice, her tone is clear as she calls his name. The girlish insecurity that had coloured her voice previously is no more. It’s a voice devoid of emotion, a voice that conveys she has recalled her memories, completely lacking in falsehood – and, at the same time, reclaimed her true self.

“Ahh…Rachel! You remembered me?! Ahh…your eyes…your eyes are so beautiful!” With a face full of ecstasy, the man gazes at her blue eyes that have shed all vestiges of normality.

(Yes – these are the eyes I wanted…eyes that have neither despair nor hope, just beautiful eyes…)

“…Doctor, I…shouldn’t be alive…” She looks at him with emotionless eyes as she speaks quietly.

I…remembered everything. About the counselling sessions I had with the doctor everyday…about mother and father…the tragedy that happened on the night of that full blue moon…and about the book I read beneath the moonlight…I remember everything.

(What lovely eyes…!)

Danny quivers in delight as he practically devours the sight of her eyes submerging beneath the weight of her hopelessness.

“That’s not true at all! I’ll take these off now. And then, live with me forever, Rachel!” Breathing roughly, the doctor hurriedly unfastens the restraints. He cries out as if to shout his emotions with his entire body –

“Oh…I’m so happy!”

▲▽

A man in a dark hooded sweatshirt strides down the hallway, a hand wrapped tightly n bandages grasping a large scythe that glints in the light. Zack is on a floor very different from his own, B6 – the hallway gleams immaculately in the meagre illumination.

(Damnit…where did she go?)

He doesn’t understand why. But through some sort of impulse, Zack has followed after Ray all the way to B5. He doesn’t usually follow a sacrifice to a different floor, even if they escape him. But right now, letting that girl go leaves his stomach whirling in dissatisfaction.

(I’m definitely gonna kill her.)

With a small tch, he grips his scythe tighter.

And it’s then that he hears Danny’s voice – the owner of this floor – resounding from the other side of the wall.

Oh…I’m so happy!

(…Happy, he said?)

The instant he hears that thrilled tone, the man is overcome by a boiling vexation. It might be the only emotion he’s ever felt since childhood.

(…Fucking bullshit.)

Fuelled by that terrible irritation, he thrusts his blade into the door of the operating room, slicing it open. It’s destroyed in the blink of an eye. Danny whirls around. His expression turns grim as he sees Zack standing there in the doorway. His teeth gleam through his bandages as he sneers out a laugh.

“Hyahahahahah!”

Zack’s insane laughter resonates in the tense atmosphere of the room. There’s not really anything particularly funny occurring. It’s just that he simply doesn’t like people who are enveloped in happiness.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, the girl finally reacts to that laughter.

(It’s that man…)

She immediately realises it’s the murderer she met on B6 – the master of that floor.

Zack doesn’t hesitate – he simply obeys his instincts to stride into the room, and immediately slices Danny’s belly. The girl, whose eyes only reflect despair, doesn’t react at all like when that small bird had been killed. Flecks of blood splatter in her vision, like in her restored memories.

“Y-you…”

Why.

(I was finally…finally about to make Rachel’s eyes my own…! I can’t…I can’t die like this…!)

His vision rapidly begins to pale and blur at the edges due to the immense pain he feels. And from that line between death and life, he looks up at Zack.

“Hey now, Danny…ya sounded so happy just now, I couldn’t help but just cut ya open!” Watching Danny’s consciousness slowly fade and seeing the despair clouding his expression causes the man to laugh contentedly.

“…” He wants to say something back, but he can’t. His hazy eyes begin to close as his surroundings fade away completely. For an instant, he sees Ray’s blue eyes floating in his vision – those eyes that have lost all emotion. As if they had become his.

(What lovely eyes…)

Beckoned by that fantasy, his eyes finally shut as he falls into a deep sleep.

The instant Danny stops moving, Zack appears to lose interest, his expression cooling. He abruptly turns toward the table.

“…Hey, I found ya in a hell of a mess, didn’t I?” He grins happily at the girl sprawled on the table.

“C’mon! If ya wanna live, run for it! Run, struggle! Cling to hope! And then I’ll slice ya open!” Zack’s loud voice, filled with a bizarre excitement, echoes throughout the room as he lifts that enormous, grim reaper-like scythe up.

But Ray doesn’t hear the man’s words at all. She is at the utter bottom of despair. Her head is filled with the memories of what happened that day of the full blue moon.

“…Ah?” Having been completely and utterly ignored by Ray, the man utters a sound of disapproval.

(…What’s going on?)

Ray, lying on the table with an unsettling vacantness upon her face, seems like a completely different person from the girl he met earlier.

“Hey, how come yer makin’ that boring face? Ya don’t want t’ live, not even when I’m pointin’ this blade at ya?” Zack asks her. Her eyes are those of one who isn’t looking anywhere, eyes that don’t reflect anything – it’s like she’s already dead.

“…”

I don’t.

She reflexively wants to say this, but her voice won’t come out.

“Hah…how boring. I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t like cuttin’ up dolls.” She looks like a dead fish lying on a cutting board, waiting to be diced up. Sighing, he lifts his scythe away from her. For some reason, he’s unable to want to end the life of someone who has no attachment to the world of the living, even if they lie at death’s door.

(Should I go back…)

Beep beep beep.

Just as he makes the decision to leave, a speaker somewhere in the room crackles to life. And, like before, a church bell chime rings out.

Betrayer alert.

The master of B6 has attacked the master of B5.

This is a violation of the rules.

The betrayer has become a sacrifice like Rachel.

According to that broadcast, Zack has just become a sacrifice.

“…Damn, they’re not fuckin’ around. Guess I should run.”

(…But where’s the exit?)

With a slightly foolish expression, he leaves the room without casting a second glance at the doll-like girl on the operating table. He doesn’t really have a reason to want to live, but that absolutely doesn’t mean he’s going to just let himself get killed.

(A sacrifice…)

Left alone in the operating room, Ray stares at the ceiling, quietly thinking to herself.

That’s right…I shouldn’t be alive…

After Zack leaves, she forces herself to stand up.

On the floor is Danny’s grotesque, bloodstained, still-warm body, splayed on the ground.

(Doctor…can’t see anymore.)

With sad, faded eyes, Ray stares expressionlessly down at the man. He looks as if he might only be sleeping. She pokes his cheek as if he were nothing more than a toy.

(I wonder if he’s dead…)

“…”

His body doesn’t even twitch.

Suddenly, she catches a glimpse of the cardkey inside the pocket of Danny’s once-white coat, now dyed red.

(I…might be able to use this on the other doors…)

Without hesitation, she thrusts her hand into his pocket and fishes out the card, dropping it into her own pocket.

▲▽

…I’ve woken up from that happy dream.

That’s the only thing she clearly understands in this world as she unsteadily totters out into the hallway, leaving Danny behind. She walks down the hallway, overwhelmed with the despair brought by her reawakened memories.

As she walks, she passes by the door to the special patient’s room, and recalls how Danny had stopped her from brushing aside the dust covering the writing on the wall.

(I wonder what it said…)

Curious, she pauses in front of the room, and lifts a hand to push the door open. But the room is locked. She doesn’t doubt for a second that Danny was the one who had locked it. So – the card she’d taken from him should work.

Ray pushes the cardkey into the door’s slot. With a clunk, the door opens, as she had suspected it would.

(So I guess this key works on all the doors on this floor…)

Confirming this to herself, the girl pushes the door open and slips the key into her pocket.

(…Let’s take care of that dust…)

Brushing aside most of the dirt reveals insane, heartrending words carved into the wall, stained red.

Help me, help me, I’m scared, I’m so scared!

There were three of us, but I’m the only one here.

They’re coming to kill me, they’re coming to kill me. Out of the three of us, I’m the only one who’s going to be killed.

They’re coming to kill me as if it were only natural.

Who allowed them to do this?

Help me, help me, God…!

(I knew it. The patient was killed by that doctor…)

“…God.”

Whispering that final word in a strangely meek tone, the girl leaves the room.

▲▽

Feeling as if she’s been trapped in a nightmare of some sort, Ray once again advances down the hallway.

She notices countless glimmering fragments of – something spilled all over the floor. It’s that glass wall – it’s been utterly shattered into tiny pieces. She quickly comes to the conclusion that this must be the work of the man who had killed Danny – the man called Zack.

That man cut through the glass, just like that…just like he killed doctor Danny…in just an instant, he left this world.

(God? …Oh, God, would you forgive me if I were to be killed…?)

“…”

I want…to be killed…by that man…

Spurred by her instincts, Ray runs over the fragments of glass toward Zack.

“…It won’t open! Even if I hit it, it won’t break… Damnit, what should I do…”

She sees Zack struggling to open those unmoving doors. There’s probably an elevator behind them.

“…What are you doing?” She calls out to him with renewed willpower, the knowledge of what she will ask him to do bringing her a little bit of hope.

“Hah? …What are ya doin’, waltzin’ up to me like that?” Reflexively turning upon hearing her voice, the man speaks threateningly, glaring at the girl. But Ray no longer feels afraid of him.

“…Um…I have a favour to ask.”

Taking a deep breath, Ray looks up at his face, covered in filthy bandages, and sees his eyes peering out at her like slits from between the layers of linen. Fixing her gaze upon that pretty golden eye, she speaks:

“…Please…kill me.”

Zack’s eyes go wide, and, for an instant as he stares at her, he’s utterly fascinated. With the expression she wears right now, he would have never thought her to be a thirteen-year-old girl.

(…She asked me…to kill her?)

I’m gonna be sick…!

The moment he comprehends Ray’s desire, he vomits everything he had eaten that day – or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he expelled all that food with the intention of ridding himself the strange shiver that welled up within him.

“…Ueghh!”

No one had ever requested something from him like that before. No one had ever desired anything from him before. And from the bottom of his heart, he truly doesn’t understand why a girl he just barely met would ask him such an insane thing without even any forewarning.

“Shit! Don’t ask me for creepy stuff like that! I don’t have time t’ screw around with weirdoes with fucked up faces like yours!” The man shouts at her, wiping the puke staining the bandages near his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie in order to suppress the hellish disgust he feels.

“…So you won’t?” Her expression twists into earnestness as she looks at him, avoiding turning her gaze to the mess on the floor. She can’t understand why Zack is so repulsed by her wish. After all, he had dispatched of Danny in the blink of an eye. It should be easy to kill her.

“Whether I will or won’t ain’t the problem! What’s a kid like you doin’ here, anyway?!”

“…I was here before I realised it.”

It’s not a lie. She remembers far too well what occurred before she came here. But she still doesn’t know why she’s here.

“Hah? Ya don’t remember anything before ya got here?”

“…I don’t.” She answers after a small pause. Certainly, she could answer that she remembers, or that she doesn’t remember. But it’s definitely better to say she doesn’t.

“Well, guess it doesn’t matter. If ya got time to say creepy shit, do something about this door!” Kicking the doors leading to the elevator, the man raises his voice yet again.

“That should open with this cardkey.” Ray retrieves the key she took from Danny and holds it underneath the card reader. The patient’s room and the operating room had both opened with this card…so she’s certain that this door should open as well.

With a sharp sound, the doors slide open, as Ray suspected. And the elevator to B4 reveals itself to the two of them.

“…Hahah!”

The moment he sees the elevator, Zack smiles gleefully. It’s as if his irritation seconds before had been nothing more than a lie.

“Come to think of it, ya got here all by yerself, right?” he asks, looking at Ray, his expression akin to a child who has just come up with a fantastic idea.

“Yeah.”

“Ya see, I’m kinda dumb. So…help me get outta here together.”

“Together…?”

Stooping over to match her height, Zack gazes deep into her eyes. They seem to convey that she’s surprised about something.

“Oh, right. Ya said ya wanted me t’ kill ya.”

“…I did.” She responds with a serious expression.

“Killin’ ya’s easy, but I ain’t feelin’ up t’ it when ya got such a damn boring face. So when we get outside, you’ll be able t’ show me a better face, won’t ya?” Looking into her blank face, Zack laughs like a mischievous child as he makes his offer.

“So, when we get outta here together…I’ll kill you.”

She hears a bell ringing, somewhere. It might be nothing more than an auditory hallucination. But that sound has been the clearest thing she has ever heard thus far.

“…Really?” She looks up at Zack with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah. But make sure t’ behave. And don’t run around all happy like. …Whenever I see someone lookin’ too happy, I…just get the urge to kill ‘em.”

“…Okay.”

(…I definitely can’t make a happy expression.)

Thinking this, Ray nods her head.

“Well, seein’ yer dead eyes, I guess I don’t have t’ worry. Let’s get outta this place.”

“Yeah.”

For just a moment, as the two exchange their vows, they stare at one another. Then they advance into the elevator.

“When we get outta here together…I’ll kill you.”

As the elevator begins to move, those words reverberate through Ray’s head over and over. Those words are like a dazzling beacon shining within this colourless world of despair and sadness.

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falconsandfishes · 5 years

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platonic relationship

i have a bone to pick with plato. see the socratic method is basically the scene in montynpython in which a woman is weighed against a peice of wood to determine if she is a witch. and this is pretty much also the measurement system women use for me judge a cardio junkie by his ability to withstand smoke fumes. ive been up all night listening to eminem because i wish that i had the mysogny that he had because logically i should be mad at these females who lie to me but apparently developmentally theyre limited.

so pretty much i just want my neck not to hurt and my side and platonic love isn really the kind which could support my lumbar spine but if you think im angry you are right and maybe if i rhyme my brain will work this time and ill finally be able to explain was never targeted at my objects of affections at all i like to walk around the mall see a cutie with a skirt on and she sees me looking at her tells her grandmother to leave her there because this place looks fun as she smiles at me there comes abu my friend who judges me and judges you and as i stare at her i can tell she wants me too probably more emotionally mature than my mom and a virgin with her skirt on and its workun but i have the confidence of a plastic bag floating in the wind shes cheesing while i hide behind her even though shes 4 11 and im 6 4 and because he was there i didnt pass because i dont cross paths but even thinking about having a girlfriend makes him mad. if shes too young for me i would have figured that out but it doesnt help that no matter how young or how old even the weather lady im told shes not right for me so will you make up your mind please can someone define maturity because apparently there is a reverse correlation between it and age and socrates was no sage im not really impressed that he drank poison similarly i smoke weed which takes me back to age three and birthday parties then i think about how much my life failed but only because everyone always stood in front of me. so snitch on me when i talk to you when youre in front of me at your desk and say your story about butterflies is the best begging middle and end. meawhile i havent even gotten to the first page of my legend of the sword it had a much more compliated plot which was cut off. then tell me i didnt count to tenthousand while you were listening to the teacher say the is spelled t h e and put me in a remedial reading class with a bunch of girls and address us as the girls so we can read books about a mouse who lives with his family in a house but if girls and boys are the same how can you explain i was the only one in that group to be bumped up to the advanced on by 2nd grade. i guess reading the encylopedia of animals wasnt a wase memorized their latin names bufo sativa phylobates. so by third grade i was getting so good at math that they took me out of class and had me testing material meant for 5th graders and it was really lame how can i explain all the flaws in the system to all the other people who were also ruined by it.

finally one girl who was definitely old enough for me waved at me when i looked at her and i got a boner and walked over to the ladies at the tea shop who looked at me with a disgusted look on their faces then some gangster looking dude older than i am replaces me with his hand on her shoulder.

before i was 18 i could beat up my dad and ever since then i knew not many people in my generation had much of a chance against me but i looked so thin they were not understanding. high iq causing depression have anothe smoke session even though you have athsma everyone remember to complain that i prefer to get high off one big hit i stayed in high school till i graduated but i left.

unfortunately with brain damage i could still make straight as which made me think i was ok gpa jumping above 3.68 when i only show up an agerage of 3 days.

practice your sky hook do your pushups get embaressed when an asian princess sees you do them 20 hanlaps perfect form and im not even a jock wow id better stop. next thing the girl i like is sitting on my lap in class telling me she likes me back shes sitting on my desk shes rubbing my face my life isnt gay justnsaynsomehing and youll get laid.

nah ill let some kid with adhd steal her seat and ill help him with math instead because i didnt tell her this but im alread braindead. my soul probably died with my pet lizard or my kitten perhaps it was internet addiction.

what makes you think youll be make it as a porn star? you know im hot. well maybe i just didnt want you to act like a slut. i still remember the blonde who waves at me and smiled my freshman year it was clear that the world was my oyster the only problem was i couldn make my own choices.

i wanted to be an actor but i was so good at acting nobody got it. was so good at debating everyone liked to argue. was so succinct couldnt get the last word. so fast nobody would pass me the ball so dominant in wrestling i had to pretend i couldnt win just to have a friend.

pretty much i feel like the last cro magonon stuck on an island without charlotte saisselin bounce baby bounce three story house you look so cute in a blouse. hey look theres charlottes stalker i think il wave my arms around.

bounce baby is a reference to eigth grade i was watching a 100 meter race and then some black guy said that she never raced again. weed turned her from a goth into a wigger and after that i figured id become one too but it wasnt till 2009 i started to dress like you. what happened was i got some clothes from olympia sports to wear as warmups on the basketball court and to work as a salesman i shaved my head smiled knowing i was dead but still i couldnt even say i wanted to kiss girl without that not being cool enough for my nephew and her bowl broke too

it fell from her car on the pavement and she said that he didnt even get to hit it.

so now im living in my dads room on the floor and finally my back isnt sore i have a well paying job im away from mom i have iron lungs and dad still doesnt approve because now i play too much basketball.

hi im interested in going to california. i meant connecticut but califonia will do since its warm there. sure steve come on out west but read the fine print your 20s are dead.

prove you wrong shame on me. dont prove you wrong brag proudly. stay out west and let your dad die. watch him act like an asshole at home back east one more time. your reward for having surived on the street for years as a middle clas kid

your friend says he thought you were dead. by the way he has this girlfriend in connectiut. oh you were the one who set him up with her? theres a whole website or three centered around her?

better get you to spend your money on heroin and make you seem like a jerk in front of my dad. my excuse is im skitzophrenic.

all because my dad shamed me for growing up even crazier than him. thats why i called up my friend and asked him to date my girlfriend.

there must have been something in those amphetamines which made me keep stopping at her house. i found them up on the shelf years after i tried to spill them out.

it was the first time an adult had ever called me immature. he also said my handwriting was bad and i needed a cure. talking to him i began to get red where even to begin? i have a lot of prblems at home and this isnt fair. see my dad camps in the yard and gets drunk watches us through windows andmy sister punches me in the head. mom pretty much works till shes in bed.

every day she watches the same soap opera and oprah which i record for her on tape. my sisters friends call me gay so i go over and play with the kids from the other neighorhood all day.

one of them listens to a lot of eminem. his favorite song is if you dont like it you can suck my dick. hes in reform school and proud to be off his meds. when i talk about biking down a steep hill and blending into traffic he thinks i meannliterall blend in.

two gay twin brothers end of the road honor roll kids. play baseball and have alcoholic parents. hey ill tell the girl steve likes he likes her then she will never talk to him again. accept his chalenge to a fight and he will bang my head into a tree which is the same thing i did to another kid who tried to jump me but got sperated from his friends.

refuse to dance with the only girl in middle school who has hips. make fun of the girls intelligence who sits next to you in math and has giant tits. refuse to eat candy off the first girls tounge then your science teacher who pushed pills on you flips on the tv its 911

stare at a girl all day and say you dont like her. girls think youre gay if you have a boner. telll me a calculator doesnt mattrer for a test but i do worse without one. make a flag pencil it isnt cool enough for the other kids.

sit with the retarded kids timmy and jimmy. watch nick all night fresh prince and bill cosby.

your sister wont stop torturing you so hold her at knife point. buy knives at school try to resell them and for the first time ever the kids you sold them to ge caught witth knives.

stay in the program with three teachers who gave up on you. one leaves to become a dean suddenly your grades go up. kids are jealous because you dont do homework. girls smile at you knowing that your test scores are high despite that.

throw shotput as far as a high school kid without any exercise or practice. run around the track dozens of times in pants you still arent good enough yet.

go to an alternative program reluctantly in high school its sort of like jail. everyone smells like cigarettes the air is stale. this isnt good for you but we will make you think if you leave you will fail.

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laurengattos-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 2, Part 3

{Previous Part}

That afternoon, Lilith unpacked what was left in her trunk. The desk in her room had locks on two of its drawers, so Lilith tucked away her father’s compositions in the first. She was trying to use them to help fill the holes in her next, unfinished opera, which went in the second drawer. Knowing the bloodied dress from the day before was in the bottom of the dresser, Lilith folded and put away the rest of her clothing in the upper drawers, which didn’t take long. Then she spread her rouge and powder boxes, hairpins, brushes, and perfume bottles across the top of the dresser.

At seven o’clock, she stood in front of the mirror in her camisole and petticoat, pinning the last of her curls into place with a rhinestoned hair pin, finishing a final scale in preparation for her brief performance. Her silver locket dropped heavily against her breast bone as she shut its clasp around her neck. She was rubbing her chest against the shock when Mme. Giry knocked at her door and brought in the bustle. As she expanded the collapsible metal frame, Giry told Lilith that two sets of hands were needed to put the bustle on. When Giry fixed the last button around Lilith’s hips, Lilith thanked her, and again after she helped button the side of the massive violet skirt, and then again after she buttoned the back of the bodice. “Really, thank you, Mme. Giry,” she said as Giry stepped back to see if everything was straight.

“It wasn’t much of a sacrifice. I have the time right now, and frankly, Mademoiselle, you had trouble bending before you were attached to a metal cage.”

“I must insist that you call me Lilith.”

“Fine…Lilith,” Giry said, picking a stray thread off of the skirt. “I’m glad someone’s getting use out of the bustle. I’ve only worn it once, and that was almost three years ago.”

“It wasn’t a gift from the opera ghost, was it?” Lilith chuckled.

“Ah,” Giry shook her head in contempt. “I heard you found out about all that. Don’t let the idiots around here fool you. It’s a publicity stunt the managers have been milking for far too long. Every once in a while the ‘ghost’ does something that gets him in the papers—and the argument could be made that the superstition keeps divas in line, although I suspect that won’t be the case with you.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Giry looked into the mirror and smoothed back her own hair. “I suppose if I must call you Lilith, you should call me Alianore—but not around my students.”

“Alianore. That’s a lovely name.” Lilith smiled, and then touched her velvet-clad wound for reassurance. As Giry headed to the door, she told Lilith that Rebecca would be in the dancer’s foyer after the show, if she needed her.

Lilith left a few minutes later, heading to the grand foyer to meet the managers. However, in the hall of dressing rooms, she turned the corner and ran into a frazzled woman in dark work clothes, carrying a black, grommet-speckled gown. The skirt spilled out of the woman’s arms, but Lilith caught it before it dropped out of reach. “Oh, do forgive me. I wasn’t looking,” Lilith said, pretending that she was brushing something off her bodice as she stroked her waist. The woman told her it was perfectly all right, no harm was done, and continued down the hall. Going the same way, Lilith asked, “Is this Leonora’s costume?”

“Yes, from Act IV. Carlotta decided we had altered it without telling her and demanded that we let out the waist—for the very last performance, mind you.”

“That’s a rather wild assumption.”

“Actually there was a pool going to see when she’d notice. One of my girls was hoping for an emotional breakdown onstage—not that I encouraged any of it.” The costumer looked Lilith over and asked, “Are you the new singer?” Lilith affirmed that she was. “Then I hope I didn’t frighten you, because we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. I’m Emeline Amory. I’ll be yours after this production.”

“You aren’t Carlotta’s?”

“No, you see, there is a God. Because of this alteration debacle, I’ve been reassigned.” As Mme. Amory stopped at the end of the hall at the largest dressing room, she seemed to leer at Lilith’s dress. “Are you singing tonight?”

“Yes, I am,” said Lilith, glancing down to see what she was scrutinizing.

“I guess that explains it. But please tell the managers to ask before they take things from our storage again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s Métella’s costume from last season’s La Vie Parisienne.” As the last word left Amory’s lips, the door opened behind her and a puffing, middle-aged dresser pulled her inside. Before Lilith could form an articulate thought, Rémy took her arm, telling her the managers had changed their plans and asked him to take her to their box instead. As they climbed the staircase to the manager’s tier, Lilith realized for the first time that the opera ghost could be trying to sabotage her. She felt a flicker of panic at the thought that there was no way out now. If the plan was for her to be embarrassed by wearing the recognizable costume of a trollop, he’d won. However, when she voiced her concerns to the managers, Richard’s stark honesty soothed her: “For God’s sake, it’s just a dress.”

“Wasn’t there a card with it, Mademoiselle?” Moncharmin asked, guiding her into her seat. She told them it wasn’t signed, and Moncharmin stared at his partner meaningfully.

Richard rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I must have forgotten to sign it.”

Lilith raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “I beg your pardon, are you now saying you sent me this dress?”

“Can you blame me for not taking the credit after your reaction?” he asked, taking his seat. “I feared you might need one for tonight. Please forgive my forwardness. I simply didn’t want you to be unprepared.”

“M. Richard,” said Moncharmin, as he lowered himself into the seat between them, “You should have let me know. I nearly misled the poor girl this morning.”

Richard glared at him and growled, “Forgive me, Armand, it escaped me.”

The gilded, scarlet-felted auditorium was soon completely filled with finely dressed patrons, gems and silks glittering even in the upper balconies. But Lilith noticed the box across the theatre from the managers’ remained dark and empty. When she asked if some important party had canceled, Richard muttered. “No, that’s another one of the opera ghost’s demands.”

“Of course. Have you paid him yet?” Lilith mocked.

“We did not,” said Moncharmin, less spirited than usual. “Our investigators have insisted that we do not indulge him. But we have locked up the anvils in a closet, until they are needed.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful, Monsieur,” Lilith said.

“Moncharmin is just nervous,” Richard sneered contemptuously. “He thinks we’re dealing with some sort of wizard.”

Moncharmin huffed at Richard before defending himself to Lilith: “The ghost has a way of getting what he wants.”

Lilith hummed a laugh and whispered to Moncharmin, “Perhaps he’s one of your richer patrons, someone with too much time on his hands.” Moncharmin smiled, but then her words prompted a thought, and he started advising her on the patrons she would meet after the show.

Soon, the opera started, and Act I came and went without a hitch. Then towards the end of Act II, the baritone playing the Count Di Luna neared the aria the phantom mentioned in his letter.

“What bold and raging love, and aggravated pride

My rival dropped every obstacle, it seemed, to my desire…”as the baritone sang, Lilith watched Moncharmin’s knuckles whiten, gripping the armrest between them. Then the baritone uttered the anticipated phrase, “The light of her smile eclipses the beam of a star—” Immediately, a clang resounded in the theatre, but the baritone went on, “The splendor of her face brings me new strength, new courage.” The clanging continued as more anvils joined in.

The managers jumped to their feet and fled backstage in barely enough time for Moncharmin to beg her pardon. Not about to be left alone, Lilith hurried down the staircase after them. At the backstage entrance, Mercier handed Moncharmin a new letter and ran a hand through his graying hair. He told them he stood when the anvils started going, and when he turned around, the letter was on his chair. Joining the managers, Lilith spotted Rebecca across the stage in her lone, coral evening dress, waving to her and mouthing what’s going on? Moncharmin read the letter, and then handed it to Richard, who scoffed and passed it to Lilith. It read: The anvils seem disturbed. You should pacify them with Samar’s seraphic voice, which you so selfishly wished to keep to a select few.

Lilith let out peeved groan. Richard asked if she would do it. She sighed, “Why not.” Moncharmin thanked her, and sent Mercier to cut off the struggling conductor and have the curtains closed for the moment. Moncharmin went out first and apologized to the audience for the mechanical failures they were experiencing. He shouted over the lessening ring of anvils that while they sorted everything out, their guest for the season, Mlle. Lilith Samar, would preview an aria from her upcoming opera.

As soon as Lilith stepped out through the curtains, the anvils stopped. She curtseyed to the audience’s vexed but polite applause and waited for Balás to settle in at the piano, while the orchestra’s pianist rubbed his face in irritation. The familiar first notes sounded from the pit, and for some reason gave her a chill. But she smiled, and sang the aria strong and true, the love she had for that song overcoming everything else. She managed not to break any stitches, although her side was very sore. When she finished, applause overwhelmed the house. Lilith graciously curtseyed again, flashing a smile at Balás in the pit. Clapping himself, he blushed and looked down at his music.

In the singer’s foyer, a very proud Moncharmin guided Lilith around and discretely pointed out the most important sponsors. He gave the names of the Duc and Duchesse who were laughing with Carlotta and Orelio. Lilith noticed Orelio stroking the Duchesse’s arm, and couldn’t suppress a look of repugnance.

“Look out. The Comte is coming,” Richard mumbled to his partner.

“Ah yes.” Moncharmin nodded toward a middle-aged man with coiffed blonde hair, who directed a dimpled grin Lilith’s way. “This is Comte Philippe de Chagny,” he said, extending an arm to the Comte as he introduced Lilith.

The Comte bowed to kiss the back of her hand, and lingered. She felt her eyes flicker involuntarily, but she plastered a kind expression to her face and curtseyed. “You’re very talented, Mlle. Samar,” said the Comte. She thanked him, gently removing her hand from his grasp. Over his shoulder, she saw the doorway fill with frothy white costumes as Sorelli and Minna and other older dancers scanned the room, corps de ballet girls filling the space around them.

“We told you about Mlle. Samar’s opera, didn’t we?” asked Richard.

“Yes, you were quite enthusiastic about it. Now I see why,” he grinned again at Lilith. She bit her venomous tongue and grinned back. “I’ve actually been meaning to catch up with you on the season. Are the three of you available for supper tonight? I have a private room at the Café Tortoni.” Moncharmin merrily accepted for the three of them. Lilith caught sight of Sorelli, whose jaw dropped dramatically as she glared at the Comte. Then she whirled around and left, Minna at her heels. Rebecca, Meg, and the others chirped excitedly. “Shall we go?” asked the Comte.

“Oh, just a moment,” Lilith gestured to the dancers. “I need to speak to my ward.” Moncharmin explained Lilith’s apprentice to the Comte with glowing admiration as Lilith left to meet Rebecca.

Rebecca lifted her chin at Lilith’s approach, and teased, “Aren’t you too famous to speak with us?”

“How’d you like the supernatural assistance I received?” Lilith asked.

“Oooo,” said Clarisse, swooping into their conversation, “You’ve done it now.”

“Sorelli can’t believe you stole her suitor,” Jammes added gleefully.

“How absurd. Who?” Lilith asked. Jammes nodded toward the Comte. Lilith groaned, “Ugh. Yes, we’re going to supper tonight. Will you be ok?” she asked Rebecca.

“I’ll be fine,” Rebecca mocked her concern. “They do feed the ballet. Now tell us about this Comte.”

Lilith shrugged. “He’s just a patron.”

“Come on, we saw you making eyes at him,” said Clarisse.

“I was not—Oh, this is ridiculous,” Lilith said emphatically. “Just tell Sorelli she can have him back. I’m off. Good night, ladies.” Lilith returned to the managers, reluctantly taking the Comte’s arm as he led them out of the theatre.

Just after two o’clock in the morning, Lilith leaned into Richard as he escorted her to the street entrance of the ballet dormitory. A combination of grief and blood loss had let her become so tipsy that he wouldn’t allow her to walk in alone. He diligently unlocked the front door and locked it behind them, and led her across the courtyard, through the salon to the stairwell. “You’re too kind, Monsieur,” she said, shaking herself out of his overcoat and returning it to him.

“Well, I can’t take the risk that my wife will be awake when I get home.”

“Really, M. Richard,” Lilith slurred, “This isn’t like me at all.”

“I believe you. You have shockingly low tolerance for an actress.”

“I’m used to being the sober one. This was the first night in a long time that I haven’t had to watch Rebecca.”

“I understand. Our housekeeper did the same when my youngest left for Somerville Hall.” Richard opened the stairwell door with one hand. “Can you make it upstairs?”

“I’m sure I can,” she nodded and patted his shoulder, but wobbled on her third step away. He groaned and hooked his arm under hers. When they had climbed the flight and made it to her door, he leaned her against the stairwell doorway and asked if she had her key. She retrieved it from her pocket and said, “Yes, thank you.” She unlocked it, bid him goodnight, and closed the door between them. Cautiously lifting her hands every few paces, Lilith eventually made it into her room, and then to the matches and candle on her nightstand. After picking at the buttons for a while, she got out of her bodice, and then started on her skirt. In the distance, she could have sworn she heard music playing. She drew the skirt up over her head and threw the mass of it over her desk chair. She thought her side should ache, but she couldn’t tell.

It was a violin playing.

Lilith unfastened the bustle and collapsed it enough for her to climb out. Some poor violinist must have been begging on the streets, on such a cold night too. A deep sob swelled in her chest. How it reminded her of Thomas.

Lilith snatched up her dressing gown and went to the bathroom. The music stopped. She turned up the gas lights on either side of the broad mirror. Numbly, she stared into the dark eyes of her reflection. All she saw was her brother. As she pulled the pins out of her hair and set them on a short white cabinet, she thought of a similar cold night in Baltimore or Washington D.C. when she was eleven, and they hadn’t made enough money, so they slept in the street.

At some point, the violin had returned. She swayed to it a little as she plugged the drain in the bathtub and turned on its faucets. Peeling off her camisole and her petticoat, she thought the song was familiar. Sitting on the side lip of the tub, Lilith unhooked her stockings and garter belt and pulled them out through her pantaloons. She threw them into the pile with the rest of her clothing, and then stood. She pulled up her chemise and felt the cotton dressing that bound her waist. It was too tight. It bothered her. Unwrapping it strip by strip, she threw each one into the pile of clothing. She stared at the stitches in the mirror, a strip of gnarled pink flesh crossed with black scratches. Tears streamed down her cheeks although her face remained hard. She was shot fleeing. She left him with their enemies, without trying to save him, without even knowing his condition. She just fled with Rebecca. Well, she knew his condition. That’s why she left. She knew there was nothing to be done.

Lilith plunged herself into the water and shut off the faucets. She drew her knees in, and wrapping her arms around her chest, she wept herself blind. Under her choking sobs, she didn’t notice that the music had grown louder. Suddenly, the violin ebbed, and there was a whisper, “Dear child, why are you crying?”

She looked up at nothing, bleary-eyed and answered, “‘Child,’ sir? You can’t be talking to me.” After a moment, the violin returned with a remorseful melody. Lilith laid her head on the rim of the tub, her cheek grazing the water.

The whisper asked again, “Queen of sorrows, what makes you so unhappy?”

Annoyed with this hallucination, Lilith growled, “None of your damn business.” The whisper didn’t answer, but the music began to soften and the song came to an end. Closing her eyes, Lilith sighed, “Don’t stop playing.” A new song started, entrancing and soulful, and tears fell more slowly from her dark lashes as she listened. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths, but then her body shifted and she sank below the water. The violin screeched and movement rumbled behind the wall.

{Next Part}

#poto #poto fic #poto fanfiction #dark fiction #women in horror

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division-m · 6 years

Text

The Merge [3] - Sweet Pea

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Paring: Sweet Pea x Reader

Genre: angst | AU

Word Count: 2,649

Part [3] Warning: Violence, Swearing.

Part [3] Brief: ❝ In which the silver moon was high in the sky giving off the only light over Riverdale, apart from the lampposts whose rays died inches from the dirty tungsten bulbs, and Sweet Pea held a rage the power of a wildfire, you could practically see the flames roaring in his eyes, ready to ignite anything that he came in contact with. We learn [y/n] is an enigma - not like that of books where words are so plainly written out and flow from page to page, but of books torn, frayed, and indecipherable.❞

Masterlist

[y/n] was currently lounging around with youngest Cooper just like old times;

[y/n] admired Betty’s room.

Her room was like a princess wonderland. The walls were a baby pink that pulsed in the light, sprinkled with various pictures, mostly of friends and a few celebrities, [y/n] noticed she still kept the montage they made together of them since they were 6 up to the age of 14. Her comforter was pulled over her bed. It was messy as they both laied on it together, this resulted in lumps of varying sizes and shapes to form on the comforter.

A desk sat in one corner, littered with wadded up pieces of paper and pens. A few shelves were pushed against the walls and filled with books. Some books sat on the floor in front of the shelves. How does Betty manage to make a mess of books look like they are perfectly placed? [y/n] will always wonder.

"Simple, I heard the devil call out my name" [y/n] said in response to Betty's question;

"Why did you leave Riverdale two years ago? you just got up and left, it broke my heart”.

Betty's eyes shifted to the side and they soon became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth; my heart sank.

Seeing Betty like this really broke my heart, all I want to do is protect her, that’s one reason why I left in the first place.

[y/n] whipped the tears from Betty's eyes.

"Betty.." [y/n] cooed,

"I'm back now and I'm staying, trust me, its like everyone born in this town in bound forever to it".

Betty accepted that response, however [y/n] didn't want anymore questions around why she left, so she changed the subject.

"Betty.. Chic seems nice.. Considering his current situation, I mean I can understand why he is a bit crude, he just reconnected with the family that gave him up, but your dad, he seems to hate him?" I inquired, really curious to why this is.

Betty shook her head "[y/n] I have no idea, mum loves him already and if im honest its like shes trying to make up for all the years she lost with him, but I can't understand why dad doesn't want the same, its like-" Betty was cut off by her mum entering the room with a huge smile.

"[y/n] its getting late, are you going to stay over?" Alice asked politely.

I always loved Alice, she was like a second mother to me when I was little, if I wasn't at my house, I was at hers, if I wasn't eating at my house, she always made sure I was feed.

"That’s okay Alice, I should be getting back to my Grams now, I'm sure she’s getting worried, iv been out all day" I refused politely much to Betty's dismay.

[y/n] hopped off Betty's bed and gave her a warm embrace and told her she'll see her tomorrow at school and made her way home.

[y/n] walked. She walked as her hair fluttered in the air, her clothes clung to her body, arms tightly wrapped around her. [y/n] felt cold wind stroking her skin, wanting to rip her clothes off her, as if she were its enemy.

She lifted her hands to the air to feel short bursts of rain.

As she walked she couldn't help but remember that cursed night, that night her family left for Greendale, [y/n] remembers this path, because she ran it that night, remembering passing Betty and Archie's house at an ungodly hour, never knowing when she'll see them again.

*Flashback*

Being chased was nothing like the movies. The stars look heroic, sexy and in command of the situation. Reality was far removed from that pretty version of running to save you skin.

I'd had no time to put on shoes or even grab my jacket, my parents pulled me from my bed whispering to me;

"It's no longer safe".

Panic took over my expression. I could only think one word.

Hunters.

They travel to innocent towns, looking to exterminate unwanted family's. At the time Riverdale was innocent.

Greendale on the other hand was not. It was known for its mystical nature. Hunters wouldn’t dare enter, it was the only safe place for our kind.

The mundane fear the town over Sweet Water River, ever heard the saying;

'you should know better than to be caught in Greendale after midnight'

Usually you would run from the town, yet the crescents were sprinting towards it.

My souls crashing into the asphalt a few times before I transitioned to the balls of my feet. My face is flushed red and my expression is pure panic.

The crescents managed to make it into the forest, the moon was at its peak and spooky doesn't quite cover it and eerie is an understatement of this situation.

I've seen darkness before, the kind that makes this forest look like an old fashioned photograph, everything a shade of grey. This isn't like that. This is the darkness that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralyzing fear.

I only know my eyes are still there because I can feel myself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs I have no current use for, since the darkness was blinding. The only way I am getting through these thick trees is the hand of my father pulling me along.

By my genes I am a predator, I have the front facing eyes and brain enough to hunt, but I feel like prey in this utter black.

The dawn is hours away and until that precious time I can only run for my life.

Hunters, they are skilled, deadly skilled, yet still mundane, and don't have the senses of my parents. Hence why they hunt us. And why they will always hunt us.

*End of flashback*

The memory sent shivers down [y/n’s] spine, as well the now pouring ice cold rain.

However the rain was the least of her problems in this moment, as she heard the revving up of motorcycles, she found herself in stumbling into a civil war.

There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet.

Screams broke out. The men rushed forward, the attack was fierce and efficient.

[y/n] wasn't foreign to battles, she fought many herself, hence why she decided to climb the tree to her left and perch herself up on nearest branch. Ready to watch this turf war commence.

'This should be interesting' she entertained this thought.

As the fight was happening, [y/n] noticed a certain tall dark and handsome serpent throwing punches left and right.

'He is a good and confident fighter, its like he is trained.. Riverdale needs more of that' she smirked as she studied his fighting skills.

A certain red head crashed a punch into Sweet Pea's stomach, a sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Sweet Pea's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken.

[Y/n] studied the look on his god like features, its like she could read him like a book.

"He will not get the better of me" his features read.

His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Bruised and winded, with a leg in agony, he grabbed the foot of the captain and pulled him to the ground. His head was pounding. He brought a fist to the captain’s face, snapping his nose into a state of grotesquerie.

It pained [y/n] to see Archie this way but she commended him, he grew up over this past two years.

'Least he is out here throwing elbows, thats my boy' she praised him internally.

"Listen here Northsider!" Sweet Pea demanded loud enough for the whole street to hear, as he man handled Archie's letterman collar.

"Normally I would give you mercy, however you think you can come to my house, stick a gun in my face, and there wouldn't be any payback? You're stupid. You blame the Northside for all the problems in this town! Watch us be declared innocent then see me come out fighting. I've thrown one punch at you and I already see you quiver. How weak you are? This isn't cruelty Andrews, this is justice. You cannot control your actions and so I’ll control you. Continue to fight me and you know I'll win, or maybe you like gambling? It's a sin, you know"

I sat there with my jaw dropped in utter shock at Sweet Pea's monologue.

'What the fuck have you been up to Archie, i thought he knew better than to mess with the Serpents.. Jesus' I internally battled whether to stop this, Archie can clearly fight but facts are facts, Sweet Pea could easy take him out.

Just as I was about to come down I heard my name being called.

"Veronica?" I whisper yelled.

She looked as though she had been running due to her flushed cheeks.

"What the hell are you doing here" She asked me wide eyed.

"Being entertained" I deadpanned.

"[y/n] that’s Archie out there, with the serpents fighting, we need to stop this right now!" Veronica rushed towards the madness but I grabbed her by the arm to pull her back to me.

"Veronica no listen, they are hand to hand combat right now, running in there unarmed or just running straight into those muscle pigs will get you hurt" I warned, Betty informed me Archie and Veronica were an item, and I also know Archie.

He would be beside himself if she got hurt.

"Oh but sweet [y/n] I am armed" Veronica pulled out a gun out of her obsidian hooded cape.

[y/n] studied the gun, it was, small, discreet and deadly. The metal was cold in Veronica's hand, icy perhaps.

"Oh Lodge you really are a paradox but I am not going to ask why you have that right but If you want to stop this fight I have a plan".

"Shoot, what's the plan" Veronica was serious about stopping this fight.

"That’s exactly the plan, shoot" I deadpan once again.

"What! Are you crazy we can't just-" Veronica panics.

"No no not at them! up into the air! It's a small gun but trust me it will be loud enough to capture everyones attention, but once you do that, you have to run and get Archie out of here! if the cops aren't already on their way they will be now, then once you’re safe get rid of that fucking gun!" I carefully yet firmly explain to Veronica as i hold her shoulders, she is smart she understood every order and was on bored.

[y/n] gave Veronica a encouraging push.

Veronica ran between two cars, now her senses sharpened with adrenaline, Veronica held her breath, still straining to focus with every ounce of her concentration is focused on making this right. Cool air whispered through her body, she breathed in;

She fired.

Not too long before Veronica fired, [y/n] ran over to where the Serpents kept their motorbikes, knowing Sweet Pea will run this way out of instinct.

[y/n] was right, once that gun was fired he sprinted in her direction, she took this oppotunity to grab his arm and drag his weak state into her side.

"Listen to me, the cops are on their way, now unless you want to be hauled in by the police you should follow me, I'll help you" [y/n] said with utter seriousness.

In this short moment she wasn't admiring him from afar, she was inches away from his heated body. For a moment it shattered her to see his features this way, He's a bloody mess, nose bleeding and his right eye black and blue thanks to Archies left hook. His arms are wrapped round his guts like he's holding them in. he's beat so bad.

"We don't have all day!" [y/n] raised her voice in fear as she saw him contemplate.

"Why do you want to help me" he didn't say with a raised voice, it's like he's speaking while being choked, he must have taken a few hits at his throat while [y/n] was with Veronica.

"Remember when you saved me from falling on my ass? Yeah well lets call this me paying back my debt to you okay, now let me help you this time". [y/n] made her point, a broken chuckle escaped his busted lip.

The sirens were becoming louder the cops were coming, it was time to get going.

[y/n] snaked an arm around his waist, he slung an arm over her shoulder, instinctively, almost like it was a natural fit.

Their bodies were much different in height and stature, yet that didn't stop [y/n] from easing any type of pain she could.

My feet slip outwards on the wet autumn leaves as I round the corner, the cold night air shocking my throat and lungs as I inhale deeper, faster. It wasn't easy having Sweet Pea lean on me. Sweet Pea was 6'5 and very heavy in this weak state.

With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee through Sweet Pea's legs, this was evident as I kept hearing him hiss.

"C'mon we can't slow down, lean on me more if you need to" [y/n] aided him with words.

He let out broken "mhm's" and “ah’s” in response. His mouth continuing to fill with an Iron taste as his teeth bit into his lips, clearly trying to stop himself from moaning in pain every second.

Due to this he kept spitting blood onto the ground.

"I'm sure you're leaving a trail with the amount of blood you're spitting" [y/n] sassed him.

"Well princess I can't swallow It can i? if I was Dracula, I would" He still managed to sass back even though he's seconds from passing out.

I'm confident I'll get Sweet Pea back to Grams safely, I know this estate better than they do, those cops are just pretty boys in uniform, shipped in from the nicer end of town. They're weighed down with guns, batons and electrical stun devices, all of them useless unless they get a clear shot, which they won't.

I can hear them panting with the effort from three hundred yards behind, that's how freakin' noisy and slow they are. Conditioning from a tread-mill with a stop-watch will never beat real-life training on the streets.

[y/n] knows that better than anyone, and if anyone can understand her street training, It would be Sweet Pea.

He wouldn't have trusted her with his life unless he had a feeling she knew what she was doing.

And Sweet’s had an intuition that was never wrong.

A/N: ahhh! This was so fun to right, I didn't want to end it! But I have to keep you guys wanting more hehe. How are you guy's enjoying so far? I'm mixing the current Riverdale storyline and the storyline from past episodes, so I hope you can understand that. And oooo what do you think about little miss crescents past? Feedback is always encouraged and welcomed :)

Be well x

Also should out to @sweetypeaimagines <3 go check out her work its so lovely! And she is so sweet! She deserves all the recognition she gets.

#Sweet Pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea au #sweet pea smut #sweet pea #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea riverdale #riverdale #riverdale imagine #sweet pea the merge #sweet pea headcanon

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