#sometimes I really sit and think about how much impact the sweet strangers in my life have had on me
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I think if I could be the kind stranger in someone’s memory, that’d be enough.
#sometimes I really sit and think about how much impact the sweet strangers in my life have had on me#thatve helped me keep going without ever knowing just how fucking miserable I was before them#like how can I ever repay the family that drew pictures and left them at my door as an apology for all the noise#the man who held the train door for me even after I slowed down bc I didn’t think I’d make it#the girl who held my hand at the beach because the waves were too strong for both of us to stand on our own#the nurse that charged my phone when I was at the hospital#like????#humans are good actually#hopecore#hopepunk#the indomitable human spirit
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Sorry babe but my brain isn’t shutting off… a very original rafe and jj love triangle is plaguing my mind
I’m thinking the midsummers drama is about kook reader
Maybe she’s new to town like family moved to obx cause her dad became partners with ward which gave Rafe easier access to you than jj but how can you not immediately be charmed by him when Sarah brings you around to meet her friends??
- 💓
stop cuz this is where the real fucking tea is. it’s so obvious they both want u and they’re getting fucking jealous of the other… can easily imagine falling for rafe he’s so mean!!! sometimes barely gives u any attention and when he does he’s always like pushing you against a wall and making out with you or like honest to god fingering you in the bathroom w his family and ur family next door. then he pockets ur panties and sends you back out there without them. he’s such a menace but it’s so hard to stay away from him 😣sometimes he’s real sweet n obviously spoils you like crazy!! parades you around his friends, gives you rules to follow which you always do (like no drinking without his permission/talking to strangers etc). rafe is so territorial and possessive so to him you’re his already. however he never made anything official… which is where jj comes in.
it’s like when rafe makes you sad or ignores you for work or business or whatever you just go spend time with sarah, not knowing many people here but getting friendly with her since you’re over at tannyhill a bunch! she takes you out with her friends who are so different than what you expected! n rafe is always warning you about the wrong side of the island and those dirty pogues you need to stay away from.. but they’re not mean at all! they’re nothing like what he said, so sweet and inviting and funny. they’re all nice but jj is the nicest of course.
and jj i mean he’s a player so he can’t help his reaction to a new pretty girl hanging around his friends, getting along with everyone being awfully friendly and sweet for a kook. he thinks you must have a crush on him too, with the way you flounder around in your tiny sundresses and teeny bikinis at the beach. it’s not long before he’s taking you off on early morning surf lessons (and he loves to sleep in, so this means something), ditching smoke seshs with his friends to come sit with you on the beach or something, ignoring the fact that he has 100% seen you hanging round with rafe cameron recently when he’s making out with you and you’re crawling into his lap in the back of the Twinkie.
i so forgot about midsummers!!!!! yes it would be so juicy, seeing you all dolled up in a short dress, obviously you accompany rafe but when he stalks off to go have “serious, proactive conversations” you find jayj and get real tipsy over glasses of champagne with him. rafe sees red and jj is just screaming at him to let you make your own choice. at midsummers there was beef n tension n chasing but they wouldn’t start swinging just yet.
and you, i mean there’s nothing better than having the attention of a boy you really like but TWO. ur probably going crazy but you don’t realize how impacted rafe n jj are, literally butting heads and almost fist fighting everytime they see each other or see you with the other. you’ll be out at lunch with rafe playing footsie under the table, whining because he left you again to do work while he’s trying to apologize when you see jj—and start waving. jj of course comes to the table and gets comfortable, probably eats something off of rafe’s plate. you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and when you get back there’s definitely broken glasses and thrown silverware.
similarly when you’re on the beach with jj, if you see rafes truck pull up you go to say hi, and jj follows behind you, HATING the way rafe’s staring at your practically naked body in a tiny bikini because you are his girl, and he says as much.
“stop being a creep and starin’ at my girl, cameron. go find someone else to bother.” and you look back at jj, smiling all dopey because he just called you his.
“your girl? that’s real funny. she’s my girl, right babe?” and then you look at rafe, face burning with embarrassment. they start bickering back and forth while you stand there looking at both of them and feeling your head spin. this is when they finally start throwing punches, both of them rustling in the sand and ending up with bruises n black eyes.
you’d finally throw in the towel and start crying (typical shea reader insert 🙄) n of course they blame each other but then feel terrible, awkwardly scratching the back of their head while you sob about how i hate fighting!! i don’t wanna fight i love you both why can’t we just be happy together!!
jj n rafe lock eyes. they can clearlyyyyy tell what you need right now to feel better. so obviously they throw you into rafe’s truck, drive to a secluded part of the shore, and take turns fucking you on the bed of his truck <3 lol
#yeahhhhh. um#📮 asks#love u babyyyy u have the best ideas have an amazing night bae🩵😇#💓 anon#rafe cameron#jj maybank
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A Story Beside
This is a RPG, but rather that slaying monsters and saving NPC’s, you will be making everyday choices. Realizing along the way that those kinds of choices can have as much of an impact as slaying monsters or saving kingdoms.
Story
The main character is called Lyric. An average girl living in an average village on the mountainside. Every day is nice and blissful for her – surrounded by family and friends. The player has a vast amount of possibilities how to change her life for the worse or the better by influencing the choices that she does. While the choices do seem random and insignificant sometimes, you never know how much impact they can have on the future.
Characters
Lyric
I will only talk about Lyric because everything else seems like a spoiler to me. Lyric’s personality is heavily influenced by your choices. It’s really as simple as that. In my playthrough she was a very honest, hard-working, amazing and courageous girl, who was willing to put her life at stake to protect and save the things and the people she loved and succeeded in doing so. She was a hero. More than those heroes the game mentions. Because fighting your fate takes a lot more courage than fighting a monster.
My opinion
I was really shocked to see how unknown this game actually is. Having played “World’s Dawn” I just saw a notification in Steam that this game came out about a year ago. Long story short, I had put it on my Wishlist thinking it was another farming game and now bought it in this summer sale. Oh, how I had been wrong.
This game is like listening to a life story of a stranger and feeling more and more attached to them as you listen. Not only that – you can even influence the decisions of that stranger. It’s similar to being reincarnated into another person and making their choices for them. However, this game doesn’t really feel like a story. It feels too realistic to be a story.
There are happy things and sad things – just like in life. You learn to appreciate the small kindnesses life gives you in the darkest hour. You try your best to survive, to make meaningful choices, to make the right choices. To love and be loved. To save people in the hope that this small act of kindness can change the future for the better. Although you don’t know. You never know. Even when you’re older and look back at the things you did, you will never know, if they were the right choices. You will never know, if you could’ve done things better.
However, you will know that you did what you could. Even, if nothing seems to work at the moment and everything seems like a never-ending winter, you should always try your best to survive today, to survive tomorrow. And then slowly the darkness might fade. Slowly you might get the things back you cherished and loved.
The small things that you took for granted all these years. The friendship with your best friend maybe. The relationship with your partner, which might be sweet but lacks the fire and drama you’re used to from novels. The love from your pets. Your friends and family that surround you.
After playing this game, you might reflect on your life and see that this game is not so different from your own life. As for me, I did experience moments in my life that were actually similar to this game. Moments, where I instinctively knew that my choice had a big impact on the future of a person. Might it be friends, might it be family, might it be the love of my life. I instinctively knew that the things I’m choosing won’t be ever changeable in this timeline. And it’s a scary feeling. You sit there and wonder, whether you could’ve done things differently. How your life would have been, if you did things differently. If you had missed something, if you had neglected something. It just makes me emotional. This is the kind of game it is – it stirs something within you. Makes you understand something about yourself you chose to ignore all these years. And hopefully teaches you to cherish the things that you have and be careful with the choices you make.
Because everyone of us can be a hero or a villain, if we want to.
Everyone of us can change the world for the better or worse.
So, what will you choose?
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reader impact || first meetings: adventurer edition
series masterlist
characters: amber, bennett
genre: fluff
summary: a game has been released entitled genshin impact, consisting of otherworldly abilities relying on the basic elements of nature. the game follows the story of an interdimensional traveling twin in search of their other half. along this journey, they meet different characters that live in this world. including you.
notes: i decided to put these two together since i've already done one for diluc!
amber's playthrough -
amber's more of an outdoorsy type of person but that doesn't stop her from streaming!
she likes doing camping streams where she just camps out in her backyard and shows her chat what she would normally do. and the occasional cooking stream to show how you can make good foods healthy <33
she has a little bunny that she shows on stream sometimes :))
there'll be some days where she just sits at home talking to chat about her day while playing with her little baron bunny.
she plays games occasionally, but their mainly adventure type ones that mimic the lifestyle she holds.
like minecraft, rust, any survival game really.
she's still very energetic so any stream of hers is just bustling with excitement.
she'd probably host some streams where she teaches basic survival techniques?? idk man i don't go out much AIHSDASHLDKJ--
anyway anyway, she got a bunch of requests asking her to play genshin ofc.
i mean?? cute game, cute models, cute characters, and aDVENTURE.
i feel like she'd go with the male traveler solely because it isn't very practical to go exploring/adventuring in a dress?? like girl's over here genuinely thinking about real life scenarios.
anyway she's sitting there after finding dvalin's corrupted tear and the cutscene plays.
she's there vibing with chat and her little bunny by her side because of course they'll be sitting there while she plays.
"hey you! stop right there!"
"aCK!"
please she screeched when you yelled at her--
and then she squealed when jumped in front of her character.
pLEASE
the camera showing off your cute little headband mimicking animal ears makes her melt.
and then you jump from the little cliff and you have to stumble to regain your balance?!?!??!
PLEASE YOU'RE SO CUTE
"may the anemo god protect you, stranger! i am (name), outrider for the knights of favonius."
catch her copying your little salute.
"they're so cute!!!!"
she will point out the animal ears constantly.
and then your vision has a cute little ribbon at the end of it!!!!!!
"just! just! just look at them!!"
and then you join her party officially!!!
please she switches to you automatically--
she'll just jump around for a few minutes to watch all your accessories bounce around.
and she can just tell that your story would be a delight to read about.
when paimon mentions her mc's missing sibling, you sound so soft and caring and just aGH.
and then she gets to try out your elemental skill and it's the aNIMAL THAT YOUR CHARACTER'S HEADBAND IS BASED OFF OF!!!
if it's a bunny she would definitely find a matching headband she can wear when she plays :00
her chat's usually a really sweet place to vibe and hang out but of course, there's gonna be those kinda people.
she catches wind of some people badmouthing you and calling you the worst character in the game >:((
she's not too keen on banning people for their opinions so instead...
"hey, guys, can we just have fun with this game? if you don't like how i'm playing you can always just?? leave??"
please girl's fuming inside but she's trying her hardest to be nice about it >:((
back to you <3
she'd get another pet that matches yours and name it after you or your elemental skill.
she'd find ways to copy your outfit too ngl--
she'd definitely cook your signature dish!!
gotta make it all cute for you <3
bennett's playthrough -
ah yes, our unlucky baby boy bennett <3
like amber, he really loves adventures!!
he's still pretty unlucky for some reason???
idk man he's just vibing and his bad luck says too bad,,,
he's kind of a baby streamer if you catch my drift?
like he's new to everything so he's just trying to figure it out.
he used to be in a streamer house but... yeah.
we don't like them anyway, it's fine.
unlike in the game, bennett's bad luck didn't bring the other members harm, it was just... little inconveniences i guess.
but he left so now he's all on his own!
he's kinda inexperienced in all of this but he's trying his best!
for now he's sticking to gaming because that's a majority of what he knows.
lots of survival games!!!
and, sadly, luck-based games.
his chat just wants to see if his luck impacts games!!
and it does,,,
luckily they request genshin, which has the best of both worlds.
bennett's got all of the adventuring and his chat gets to see his misfortune in action.
sadly you don't appear in the main archon quests so bennett actually goes a long while not knowing who you are :((
veterans of the game, however, know exactly who you are >:))
first, they'd help show you off by posting links to your splash art in his chat.
bennett, being the baby he is, just clicks on the links without a second thought.
and he's in aWE!!!
LOOK AT YOU!!! LOOK AT HOW COOL YOU ARE!!
"woahh!! who are they? can i meet them soon?"
cri
they tell him he has to roll for you and he's sad, but only for a bit!
at least you're not an exclusive character because if he were, he thinks he'd have no chance at getting you :((
but he can get you whenever!
anyway, one stream he's rolling because he's stocked up a bunch of primogems (which took a long time) and he's like might as well use them up now.
he gets a lot of weapons :(((
he's basically dedicated his whole team to c6ing his characters he has now because he "knows" he won't get a good character.
luckily the pity systems exist so he gets the occasional four star <33
so he thinks it's another character he already has, so he's very prepared to get another constellation in.
he's looking through the trash weapons and then splash art appears!
"wait... i recognize that--"
IT'S YOU.
HE WASN'T EXPECTING IT BUT IT'S YOU!!!!
"THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE REALLY HERE!!"
his chats hyping him up as he's running around his room because they love him <33
please i love this boy with a passion.
he'll put you in his team automatically with all of his c5/6 characters asdhaklsf
he doesn't even care you get everything and anything he owns in the game <3
"this is your team! it's really cool! i'm (name), leader of (name)'s adventure team! is there... do you think we could team up? i-it could even be just once!"
"they're staying on my team forever."
he loves you so much.
not just because you're a cool character but because he can relate to you--
anyway, he goes to your voicelines because that's the only time he can actually hear you fully :((
he's genuinely excited to learn about your story.
and then he learns that you have extremely bad luck too???!?!?!?
please y'all can be unlucky together!!
would that cancel out or just make you more unlucky??
huh.
he gets all sad when he hears you talking bad about yourself so he's here to reassure you (even if you're a fictional character).
#genshin impact amber#genshin impact amber x reader#genshin amber#genshin amber x reader#amber x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact scenarios#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact bennett#genshin impact bennett x reader#genshin bennett#genshin bennett x reader#bennett x reader#reader impact
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Zhongli: The Dragon Dance. (Part 1) (EN)
Version française
f!reader
Aaaah Zhongli, my sweet Zhongli, writing about followers is really painful in itself given their longevity... I didn't come here to suffer, okay! *crying in a corner*
Les Ost pour ce chapitre :
Broken Hero Onmyoji
Rabia Honkai impact
Masterlist
The port city of Liyue was abuzz with excitement as the New Year's Eve celebration took place. The streets were brightened by the laughter and chatter of passers-by and lit by paper lanterns decorated with cut-out designs of dragons, maple leaves, herons and more. Various flowers from the region decorated every part of the city, right down to the ponds with golden carp. You could see dancers strutting a flexible dragon figure in the image of the Geo Archon in the streets. Street vendors shouted at the top of their voices, selling the merits of their goods or the deliciousness of their food. Everything seemed beautiful and magical.
You had come from Mondstadt to spend the end-of-year celebrations here, with some friends who lived in the city. They had suggested that you go and see the fireworks which would take place later in the evening, but your curiosity led you to walk through the streets of Liyue alone before joining your friends.
This year the festival organisers asked the inhabitants of Liyue and their guests to wear a mask which was offered to them by the city. You knew that the festival was to end with a kind of masked ball that would take place all over the city, with musicians placed here and there, sometimes in the corridors overhanging the streets or in the harbour by the sea.
The organisers of the ball wanted everyone to be able to enjoy a moment of joy and happiness without fear, without fear of the gaze of others.
You would walk along the wooden quays, your fox mask partially covering your face. You gazed at the reflection of the city lights on the surface of the water, a smile on your face. The street was crowded but you loved it, the atmosphere was so similar to your beloved city.
As you turned your gaze to observe the quay parallel to yours, you noticed the refined figure of a tall man. His posture was refined and elegant, he stood upright with his arms crossed behind his back and his eyes fixed on the horizon. He wore a long coat that matched his build perfectly, his hair, tied back in a simple tail, swayed in the sea breeze. He wore a golden mask with the image of a dragon.
The man seemed to notice your gaze lingering on him, turning his face towards you. The masks only hid the upper part of the faces, so you could see the soft smile on his lips. Embarrassed, you ran away, slipping through the crowd of people enjoying the shops on the harbour.
As you reached the centre of the city, the sweet sounds of the typical instruments of the region echoed through the streets. You could recognise the erhu among all the instruments that were playing.
Men, women and children began to dance happily, some laughing, others giving each other longing looks.
Seduced by the warm and loving atmosphere, your lips stretched into a wide smile before quickly disappearing as a large gloved hand reached for yours. You quickly turned to see who had surprised you, thinking at first that it was one of your friends who had found you. You opened your eyes wide when you recognised the man in the dragon mask.
He pulled you to him, placing his free hand on your hip, he began to dance with you, guiding you perfectly to the rhythm of the music. You were mesmerised by his amber eyes watching you intently under his mask, the soft smile on his face making your cheeks warm.
You gradually began to relax in his arms, laughing out loud as he twirled you around before pulling you back against him, a husky laugh gently rising from his throat at your adorable reactions. After several minutes of energetic dancing, he moved his hand up your back, pulling you closer to him in a slower, more sensual dance. He gently placed his cheek on the top of your head as your face rested on his chest, breathing in the lily scent that wafted from him. As you swayed gently on your feet, he picked up a silk flower that decorated one of the columns that littered the street, supporting the upper floors of the houses. He placed the little pink button in your hair (colour), admiring how well it suited you.
Your dance was suddenly interrupted when the dull sound of fireworks was added to the melody of the musical instruments, your attention instantly turned to the play of light in the sky. Your pupils shone with a new brilliance at the sight.
Dazzled by the beauty of the fireworks, you glanced at your mysterious escort, hoping that he was enjoying the show as much as you were.
Your cheeks turned a deep red as you noticed his eyes were fixed on you, your hands still linked together. He moved his face closer to you, pushing a few strands of hair out of the way.
"Thank you for the evening. "he whispered in your ear.
Without giving you time to answer, he brought the back of your hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. He reluctantly let go of you before stepping back, giving you one last look before disappearing into the crowd.
"No, wait... don't go... your name... give me your name!"
But now he was out of your sight, regret tainting your heart. Why didn't you ask him before?
"(Y/N)! "
Hu Tao's voice called to you in the distance, bringing you out of your thoughts. She was accompanied by Xiangling, Chongyun and Xingqiu who waved their hands at you, their faces lit up with big smiles. Taking one last look at the place where your mysterious date had disappeared, you finally joined your friends, ending the evening with them.
Zhongli was sitting on the terrace of his flat, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. His gaze was lost in contemplation of the liquid in its container.
He was still wondering why he had left without asking your name. Even after living for thousands of years, he still felt a little foolish.
Perhaps he should have invited you to share a cup of tea with him? Perhaps he should have taken off his mask and introduced himself to you properly?
Zhongli had rarely had regrets in his long life and today was one of those rare moments. A sigh escaped his lips, from the moment he had met your gaze on the docks, you had intrigued him. He had immediately noticed from your manner that you were not from Liyue. From Mondstadt perhaps? That's what your clothes suggested.
For some reason, you dodged his gaze when he turned his attention to you, running away from the platform that separated you from him.
Curiously, Zhongli couldn't help but follow you, speeding up to avoid losing sight of you. Eventually he caught up with you, admiring your wondering eyes for a few seconds. He would have liked to take off that fox mask to better admire you, why? He didn't know. What he did know was that at that moment he wanted to share an intimate moment with you, wanting to create a peaceful and sweet memory with a stranger whose smile was brighter than the most precious of diamonds.
Zhongli had felt an intense happiness arise in him as you relaxed in his arms. He savoured the breath you projected on him as your head rested on his chest, your warmth comforted him, your laughter fascinated him, your eyes (colour) captivated him. Why was he gone? Why had he left? He might never have the opportunity to see you again. Zhongli knew, after accumulating 6,000 years of knowledge and wisdom, that feeling desire or attraction for a mortal could become something painful for both you and him. Zhongli might not be the Geo Archon anymore, but he was still a follower with a long life expectancy...
Yes, he knew... but knowing didn't stop you from hoping.
You had a hard time to wake up, the evening of the new year having been rather animated. After the fireworks, you all went to Xiangling's house to have a last drink, without alcohol for some of you, Hu Tao, Xingqiu and Xiangling taking care of the atmosphere of your little party. You were able to talk with Chongyun about your evening, the magic that the stranger in the dragon mask had worked on you still haunting you. Chongyun had listened patiently before suggesting that you might try to look for him in town tomorrow, and even though the mask had prevented you from seeing him, his presence remained intact in your mind.
So you slept at Xiangling's house. When you woke up, she was preparing breakfast with a big smile on her face. Xiangling had prepared a home-made hangover remedy for you with your meal made of blue lily of the valley flower, sweet flower and apple juice extract.
"Thank you Xiang, it's delicious."
"You're welcome (Y/n). And you have to be in shape for today!"
"Fit? Why?"
"Didn't Hu Tao tell you? We're going to show you around the city today. And then..." -She walked over to you, her hand covering the side of her mouth as if to tell you a secret. You moved closer to her.- "We need to find your handsome stranger in the dragon mask!."
You choked on your food.
"H-How did you...I didn't...!"
"Chongyun told me about it last night before he left! He didn't like seeing you so sad so he thought we could look together today."
You sighed, desperate. You couldn't blame Chongyun, after all you hadn't told him to keep it to himself and besides this boy was far too adorable to be sulking.
After you finished eating you went to take a shower before changing your clothes, combing your hair and finally applying some light makeup to your face. Hu Tao met you downstairs at Xiangling's flat, finishing his discussion with an elderly lady who greeted you with a brief nod before leaving.
"Good! (Y/n) it's time we took care of your case."
"My case huh..."
Hu tao grabbed your arm, leading you into the sparsely populated streets of Liyue. She showed you some shops while you described your dance partner's appearance to her.
"A tall, elegant and polite man with a long coat you say? Eeeeh... Reminds me of someone."
Hu Tao paused for a moment to think before being interrupted by the deep voice of a man calling out to him.
"Hu Tao there you are, I have a small... favor..."
His amber eyes met your eyes (colour), a long silence settled between the four of you, Hu tao and Xiangling swinging their eyes towards you and then the newcomer. The man did not take his eyes off you, his mouth slightly open. It was him, you were sure, it was him!
Zhongli looked at you without saying anything, too amazed to find you so easily when he had just come to Hu Tao to ask for his help. He had recognised your eyes from the moment he saw them.
He cautiously approached you, forgetting everything around him. He took your hand in his, a gentle smile appearing on the delicate features of his face. You were even more beautiful than he had imagined. He could feel your fingers trembling with emotion in his hand, tightening it to soothe you.
"Ah- I, you..."
Zhongli paid no attention to Hu Tao and Xiangling's curious looks. He was focused on you, only on you. Drawing you to him, his hand again on your lower back, he began a few dance steps to assure you that it was really him. Your tears rolled down your cheeks as a smile lit up your face. Several minutes passed before he stopped twirling you around to the beat of his heart.
"What is your name?"
"(Y/n)"
"(Y/n), what a beautiful name." -He brought your hand still buried comfortably in his to his lips, placing the most delicate of kisses.- "Zhongli. May I invite you to drink tea with me?"
"With pleasure."
Zhongli knew that forging bonds with a mortal could be painful.
He knew but... he would take that risk.
#genshin icons#genshin impact#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#zhongli#genshin imagines#genshin zhongli#zhongli x you#zhongli x y/n#zhongli fluff#zhongli x reader#liyue#genshin impact liyue#xiangling#hu tao#chongyun#genshin archon#xingqiu
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An anonymous lover (part 6)
Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.
Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, not proof read, panick attack
Word count : 2k
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - You're here - Part 7
English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes
-----------------------------
Y/N didn’t go to class, she felt like shit, completly like shit. She was in her bed, rolled in her blanket, looking at nothing, the argument with Sirius playing in her head over and over again. Tears would have rolled down if she hadn’t cried all of them already.
She simply couldn’t believe it, a part of her wished so hard that was all a nightmare. But she knew it wasn’t, she had let her guard down and had been stabbed a million time by the very person she had trust enough to tell all of her being.
She hated how much this impacted her, she should be used to it by now, shouldn’t she ? It wasn’t like student from other house hasn’t already told her all those things ; “monters”,”abomination”,”shame”... It wasn’t rare for slytherin for being bullied just for bieng slytherin, most of them have built up walls to protect themselves.
She even got comment from other slytherin, the bad one, those who gave a bad name to this house, on how she doesn’t deserve to be here, that the Hat had made a mistake, because surely there was no way “a dumb”, “snoflake”, “less than nothing” had ended up in the house of the greatest wizard of the magic world !
All their insults started to spin in her head, she had tried so hard to not let them get to her but Sirius’ comments just validated them. They were right, she was a shame, to her house, to this school, probably to her family and friends too, why would anyone wants to be with her anyway ?
She started to feel herself suffocating in her duvet, so she took her blanket off. Her hands were trambling, hearts pounding faster than an hyppogryff at full speed, she could barely breath and started to panick even more. It wasn’t the fisrt that happened to her, so she tried to remember Madam Pomfrey’s advices.
She closed her eyes and focused on her breath, trying to gain control back, it took many tries, but after minutes who felt like hours, she was able to breathe properly. She sighed in relief, and for a few minutes, just looked at the floor, debating with herself of what to do and letting her time to recover from what just happened.
She tapped her thigh vigourously and stood up, she wasn’t going to let a heartbreak lead her life ! She was going to take a nice shower and get into comfortable clothes and get out of her room !
After cleaning herself up, she still didn’t feel like going to class, fearing of a new break down, so got dress, she took some school supplies and went to the slytherin common room, it was dark, with tall walls and big windows to have a look in the Black lake. Mermaids came sometimes, communications was a bit hard but it was kind of fun to bound with these creatures, she loved watching them swin, it was mesmerising.
She sat down on a window seat, were cushion had been placed and as well as a tray for those who –just like her- wanted to study. This would give her the possibility of being productive despise not going to class, and avoid thinking of Sirius for a while –she did let her potion books and notes in her bedroom just to be safe-
After a few hours, she was proud of herself for all the work she had done, all her homeworks were done, and she even took the time to do studies in advance, she had not think of Sirius that much, and was now looking at the lake, some mermaids were playing together a bit further, it was hide to see since the water of the lake wasn’t clear but if you focused enough, you could see it.
But she was took out of her observation when she felt a tap on shoulder, when she looked it was Collins, the prefect who guide her back to the common room last night. She was so overwhelmed yesterday, she hadn’t took the time to look at him, she hadn’t realised he was a fellow slytherin. She didn’t care much of her house structure if she was honest, she had no idea of who was headboy or girl, prefect or member of the quidditch team.
She took a good look at him, he was tall with blond curly hair and dark eyes, quite cute actually. But then it hit her, was she in trouble for skipping class ? Shit, had she missed McGonagall detention ? So she just at him, waiting to be reprimand or something, but it didn’t happen, he just looked at her and then away, oppenning and closing his mouth, trying to say something.
She decided to end his suffering and spoke, “Yes ?” He hesitate a bit more before looking finally at her. “Are you.. Are you okay ?” This took Y/N by surprise, she wasn’t expecting him to worry about her, when he guided her back, he hadn’t said a word and clearly looked uneasy, she thought he would do anything to avoid her.
“Hum, well, yeah, thanks for asking.” An akward silence set between the two for a few seconds, Y/N decided to put her stuff away since she wasn’t going to study again. “Do you need anything else ?” Collins jumped, surprised to hear her after the seconds of silence. “No.. I mean YES ! I … well..” he clearly didn’t know what to say, that’s adorable though Y/N. She motion him to sit down in front of her.
He did so and sighed, before slamming his hand on face, “Sorry, this is akward, I don’t know what to say”, Y/N laughed a bit “I can see that !” she teased. He became all the shade of red. “What about some presentation first ? I’m Y/N Y/L/N” she reached out her hand.
He smiled and shook her hand. “Benjamin Collins, but please, call me Ben” She nodded. “So, Ben, what else did you have to tell me ? “
He looked down at his hand, playing with his thumbs, “I.. I don’t know. After what happenned last night I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and when I didn’t see you at mealtime, I got a bit worried”. Y/N openned her mouth, it was her turn to not know what to say, that was just so sweet, she didn’t expect it from a stranger. But then her stomach gurgled and it was his turned to laugh. “I ‘m taking that into you didn’t eat yet ? Come with me, we’ll found you something”
And that’s how both of them went to the kitchen, the house elves were nice to make her a little something, and they talked for a few hours. Y/N learned he was a year older than her he was a muggleborn, he had a little sister he was really closed to, she didn’t turn out to be a witch too which made him quite sad but he was proud of her anyway. She spend such a good time with him, it’s actually him who had to remind her of her detention.
To not be late she had to run to her dorm to quickly change, not sure McGonagall would have liked seeing her in a casual outfit, and then she had to run to the classroom, whe she arrived just in time. There, she saw Sirius, who snapped his head at her when she got in clearly waiting for her. But before their eyes could meet, she turned her head and sat down as far as possible from him. It is only now she realised she hadn’t thought of him at all while she was with Benjamin.
He was about to say something but to Y/N’s relief, Professor McGonagall got in, “Perfect, I see you are both here, for your detention you are going to organise all of the books of this class in alphabetical order, without magic, of course” Y/N widen her eyes, there were a lot of books here, it was going to take forever.
Both her and Sirius got up and started to work, Y/N always stepped away the closer Sirius got to her. He eyed her every now and then but she ignore him completly, after a few minutes he looked to see if McGonagall was paying attention to them and when he saw she was busy, he spoke low to Y/N.
“Y/N ?” she ignored him, “Y/N ? Can we talk ?” she still ignore him, “Y/N, please”, she blessed him with a hard look and spoke irritated, “What”
Sirius felt himself getting smaller at her look, he did deserve that. “I’m sorry” she rolled her eyes and kept her work. “I really I’m Y/N, I-.. You didn’t deserve any of the words I said to you, I didn’t believe any of them I-” as he was speaking, she walked away, not giving a glare.
“I know, I know, you’re mad-” she was about to talk but he kept going, wanting to have the chance to finish first “-and I deserve your anger, but I want to make it up to you”
She finally talk, “It’s far too late for sorry, the harm is done, there is nothing you can do”
“There’ got to be something I can do ! Please Y/N”
“You want to make it up to me ? Organise those books so we can be out as soon as possible and stop talking to me”
Sirius frowned, and sighed “I will find a way Y/N, be sure of that” “Get to work, Black”. He grimaced when he heard her uses his last name, he will take a lot more than a simple apology to earn her forgivness, but he was going to make every effort, she was worth all of it. He will take down the moon and give it to her if that would make her talked to him again.
Once they stopped talking it took an hour and a half in total to finish it, Sirius did his best to be as efficient as possible, if she wanted to be out as quickly aas possible, she will. Once they had finish, she quickly excuse herself from Professor McGonagall and walked away.
Sirius sighed, putting his face in his hand. McGonagall walked to him and pat his shoulder, “Good luck Mister Black, you are going to need it”, he thanked her and went to his dorm.
He decided to analyse every letter she has send him, searching for all the things that could make her forgive him, making a list, putting on plans, with the help of the marauders. He had a pretty clear idea, it would take a couple of days to put in place, he hoped so hard it would work.
It was now time for dinner, he went with his friends, once at the table he search for Y/N at the slytherin table, his eye widen when he saw her sitting next to a boy he recognise to be the one who took her back to her common room yesterday. He felt his blood boil in his veign, she was smiling and laughing out loud. Wow, that laugh, he loved it, but he shouted dark glare at the boy, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.
“Stop tarring” said Remus suddenly, making his friend jumped, “you don’t get to be jalous” Sirius groaned and let his head fall on the table with a hard thud, turning a few heads. “I know, I still don’t like it”
“She moved on fast” noted Peter. James shrugged a bit, “She’s a slytherin” he put his hands in the air when Sirius shot him an angry look, “Wha’ I mean is tha’ they are proud, she wasn’t goin’ to let herself down fo’ you”
Sirius sighed, he guessed that was a good thing ? He didn’t want her to be hurt because of him, but he felt bad for wanting her to care about him more than she does. He put that thought away, he didn’t get to wish for that when he was the one who pushed her away in the first place.
He looked at the two of them once more, clenching his fists, he had to make it up to you, and fast, or else he will lose you forever.
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@blackpinkdolan @jentaculargums @bruxa0007 @deathkat657 @bleh-bleh-blehs @whiskeypowder @edithsvoice @weasleybeb @auggie2000 @the-mess-in-my-head @theincredibledeadlyviper
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I will be on vacation for two weeks with my family, I will probably not be able to update the serie for a while.
Thanks all of you for your support, your like, reblog and nice message, it really warm my heart and motivate me to keep going <3 Love you, have an amazing day
#Harry potter#sirius black fanfiction#an anonymous lover#sirius black#marauders#marauders x reader#x reader
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butterfly effect│nct dream
Summary: You think of it as something caused by the butterfly effect — the great loves you had to leave, and the one that made you stay.
Pairing/s: 7dream x Reader
Word Count: 12k
Moon's note: since it's my birthday and I promised... it's not the best but I'd like to thank you guys for staying with me and wishing me a happy birthday! I hope you all have an awesome 2021!
You weren't really thinking straight when you met him — instead, your mind was a mess of one thought and sidelines; the little things. Butterfly effect. The knowledge that ten minutes from now the train will board — you'll miss your ride to school, you'll miss school — so you run faster, faster, and there it goes. The butterfly effect — knowing that what little thing you did could've changed someone's life entirely.
If you have made it ten minutes earlier, maybe you'd be sitting in the spot where a child buzzes with excitement, knowing that she'll see her father sometime soon, and in exchange, she will be in another place — maybe she won't meet the girl sitting across who offers her one of her candies. Maybe she won't be riding the train at all — maybe she would have to wait six months again before she can go see her dad.
You sulkily take the path to one of the exits, thinking about catching the bus or something. The skies are dark and you're aware of its plan, also aware that you left your umbrella. Frustrated and too annoyed to even think about school, you crash to the empty bench, bags left to drop to the floor. Tough luck.
The boy chuckles, "Missed the train too?"
"Yeah," you grumble, not even bothering that he's a total stranger. "Was caught in a daydream and got lost on the way. You?"
"Eh, my idiot of a best friend made me wait," he shrugs. He brings his book down and offers you a handshake, "I'm Huang Renjun — I see we study at the same place. May I know your name?"
You don't speak after a minute or two, but you shake his hand, to which he laughs at. You think it was you being overwhelmed. Maybe your soul just knew how much impact he was meant to throw at your life.
Huang Renjun doesn't become a one-time encounter, but instead, he becomes someone you take train rides with; be it you're late or not, to school or to the library. He stays constant occurrence, so much that Huang Renjun turns into Renjun, then Renjunnie — until you're free to call each other names like 'dumbass' and 'stupid' and everything crumbles down; formalities, facades, walls. You don't feel it then, but if you were to look back, you think it's that one dark-skied Monday with you two terribly late and finding yourselves back in the same bench, when everything the world laid down for you has shifted.
Renjun pout his lips, bored. He tears his bag from himself and lets it stay under the shed, but he stretches his hands out to the sky where his eyes are set, watching water fall in tiny drizzles before a full-blown rain, "Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?"
"When we should be at school?" you huff, more amused than questioning but it comes out as a scolding. He only nods his head, and you furrow your brows, "Renjun, you're crazy."
He doesn't reply, only answers with a deadpan gaze that asks Are you going or not? and it makes you tighten your expression further.
"Hold me."
The boy grins in triumph — he cheekily smiles, immediately pulling you under the rain and laughs like a tiny kid. It's contagious, you figure out, his laughter; if not for his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours, you would've fallen over laughing with him. It was less of a dance and more of a cuddle, swaying to the sound of the rain and his sweet hums. Renjun whispers to you the melody of a love song, and you couldn't help but ponder.
"I always wanted to do this, you know?" you feel silly even confessing, "To dance under the rain with someone, look into each other's eyes, exist as if the world doesn't and maybe give them a kiss. I wonder how that'd feel."
Renjun's serenity read ideas — those that never failed to get you two in trouble. He tilts his head, "Kiss me, then."
You feel like the world stops, and your heartbeat slows, as if the raindrops are little speckles of star-like lights littering the surroundings. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, shock ripping through your body, a confused sound escaping your throat, "What?"
"I guess you don't always need to have feelings for the person you're kissing," Renjun purses his lips. Of all people, you laugh in your head, those words you expected to come out of this one's mouth the least. He huffs, "And I don't have feelings for you."
There's just enough hesitation — uncertainty, unpredictability, skepticism — in his eyes that you find he can't be trusted as much as he normally would be. Renjun drops a half-smile, eyes unreadable, "But I sure do know I want to kiss you. A lot. Right now."
Renjun smiles in victory the second time that day.
═ ∘❁∘ ═
You come across Donghyuck in the most inconvenient way possible; a few months after you started dating Renjun and there's a little too many mishaps with making schedules meet. He strides to your chair one sunny Friday, clothes too colorful for the shades of beige decorating the place. Donghyuck didn't know how to approach you; he just kind of winged it by showing you Renjun's texts that he asked him to pick you up because something came up and he can't make it anymore. You didn't really like that — the fact that he didn't even speak, the fact that Renjun stood you up. You thought Donghyuck was arrogant. The car ride home was silent.
He was far from that, you learn the one too many times the same scenario occurred. Renjun was too busy to even show up, more often in the library than in his own place. Donghyuck, being his best friend, never failed to be there for you, keep your relationship intact, make excuses for the other. He'll pick you up from where you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, grab food and spend the whole day playing video games that only he understands, and then half of the time he'll compliment you with little playful remarks. That day was supposed to be nothing so different from the others — it's just that it didn't take much longer for Donghyuck to fall.
How could he not? You smiled so lovingly and spoke so gently, always so understanding and patient and kind. How can he not, when he's already known what song makes your day the most? When he saw how ethereal you looked under the moonlight, as he danced with you by the shore? Sure, maybe most of these moments wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Renjun's absence, and truly most of the things he loves about you aren't for him; he fell in love anyway. Still, that day was supposed to be nothing so different from any others — you're stuck in the odd place quite between grateful and guilty.
"Something came up, he won't be here." The boy says firmly through gritted teeth, hands-on your wrist trying to make you get up, "Please. He doesn't have his phone. He's not coming anymore, let's go home."
"Let me wait for him, please," you say, eyes teary, "Please, Donghyuck."
"No." He simply mutters, and whether it was the sinking feeling of defeat or the determination in his voice, it doesn't matter. You let yourself get tugged away from that place, feeling weak and oddly empty. The car ride home was silent.
"Thanks a lot, you know?" You shyly say later, once Donghyuck's lost enough in video games and he's run out of knock-knock jokes and witty statements. He couldn't stand the sight of you with your head hung low and eyes teary, "You're always there for me when Renjun is not and... just thank you."
"You're welcome," he sincerely replies. You try to look for it, the lilt in his voice or the smirk stretching his lips, but all you see is worry, and it concerns you. The bad butterflies in your stomach, the bad thoughts in your head; you feel like right now, with you so vulnerable, there should be someone by your side — someone that is totally not Donghyuck. He clears his throat, "You know he didn't mean to, right? He wants time with you too, a lot, you know?"
"I know what I have, Hyuck," you reply, a chuckle at the end of your tone. You lean your back to the couch, head tilted up and voice hoarse, "and I'm fucking scared I'll take him for granted."
Donghyuck's heartbeat slows down, but you don't need to know that. If you're thinking of a similar situation, a place in time back then as cruel winters and as harsh as summer sunlight in the afternoon, you figure he doesn't need to know that, too.
You let out a huff and a smile, "I don't want to know how painful it is to lose Huang Renjun."
Donghyuck thinks he knows why you said it; things normally go down the drain when you start realizing why someone fell for a certain person — at least, he thinks. If his experience is a reliable source, this is the point where you start falling for that person too. When you see how gentle they are, how caring, how understanding. Maybe Donghyuck is lonely — maybe he just wants to be someone who holds another person, singing them lullabies until they fall asleep, much like Renjun does for you. Maybe you're really just lovely — maybe there's an undiscovered force in the universe that places you in the center of his everything. He makes note of the rejection in your confession, and he accepts it, gracefully.
This is the point where he suppresses all the what-ifs in his head — what if you gave me a chance? What if I met you first? What if I didn't skip class that day, and I was with Renjun, and I met you at the same time as him? Do you think you would've ended up with me? — but these thoughts, despite being concealed, they leave a constant reminder that they're still there. It's a truth you both already know, the words that drip like honey from his lips, "I could love you better, so much better."
It'd be a lie to say you didn't think of it, considering his feelings. It would be an even bigger lie if you said that you don't think anyone can love you better than Renjun — you know someone can, and with how you two are handling this, it wouldn't be so hard to. Donghyuck is just so easy to fall for — the way he always knows the right thing to say, the compliments he throws at people, how confident he is, how clingy he gets. You would lie if you're asked, but you can't deny having feelings for Donghyuck, you can't deny how many times you've fallen in a reverie thinking of how good it must feel to be adored by him. Maybe you were lonely, maybe Donghyuck was just like that. Either way, no matter how great this love could be, you know it's wrong.
"I know you could. I couldn't be any happier when I'm with you. Those instants, they're one of the most beautiful moments in my life, but —" you halt, eyes still staring up at the ceiling. The twist in your gut tightens as you proceed, "But in those moments, I was secretly hoping for things. I was hoping that he was the one doing all of that for me. I was hoping that the happiness I had with you, he was giving me instead."
Donghyuck remains silent for a while. He smiles wistfully, "I know."
It's a rather odd answer, but you figure it shouldn't shock you as much anymore. You sit up straight, confused. Donghyuck motions for you to stand as he does the same. Stars shine in his eyes still, but it's a different light — there's hope in them, but it's a difficult kind of hope. He's beautiful even under dull lighting, it's something hard to pronounce; unrestrained and raw, as if one look at him and you'll crumble.
"Please, for just a while, even just a little bit," He steps closer, eyes downcast, "hold me like you love me."
You figure you were right about thinking that there was always something wrongfully more with Donghyuck — also discover that no matter how much more this feeling is, whatever it is, it can never be love; at least not a healthy one. What love could possibly ruin relationships? Donghyuck and Renjun are practically soulmates — they were made to be best friends, and while they had their other friends, nobody is just like Renjun and nobody is like Donghyuck. You don't want them to fall apart; you of all people know how hard it is to lose someone special.
Donghyuck's hug felt like fire, uninhibited and uncontrolled, given to someone so undeserving. You hold him like you love him the same way.
"I don't need you to love me back," but maybe he was hoping a bit. Yeah. Maybe. "There was never a chance for us, you know? Against my own best friend, I know I won't stand a chance. I just wanted to hear it from you."
A pause.
"Because I can dance with you under the moon, and I can walk on streets holding your hands, I can give you all the time in the world — I could spend a lifetime telling everyone I'm yours," Donghyuck locks gazes with you, and you wonder how he manages to be both heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time. He shakes his head a bit, "But that won't make you love me."
"Because I can only ever catch you," he says wistfully "whenever he fails to. I always do, don't I? Catch you, save you, love you. But you're not falling for me. You're not in need of my saving. You're not mine to adore."
He loosens his hug, looks at you like the sun bidding farewell to the moon. He's just as beautiful, if not more, he really is — gold dusting his eyelids and strawberry balm on his lips — he's ethereal. Donghyuck is beautiful in all ways manageable and not, but it's also a different kind of beauty — quite like love, adventurous but uncertain, poetic but tragic. There's a lot of pain in this beauty. He closes his eyes.
"There's not much of us, but I'm setting you free."
═ ∘❁∘ ═
You find yourself knocking at Renjun's door that night, for no particular reason — certain events made you forget that he stood you up. Renjun apologizes and repeats his reasons like a mantra, but words seemed to leave his mouth once he sees your eyes; tired and sore. You don't really need his apologies. You just need him.
Apologies, you see, they almost always never come when they're asked for. When they do, they're mostly unwanted and unnecessary from that point forward. You just feel odd, more restless than you actually are, the world is too loud — you just want to close your eyes and escape for a bit. Renjun holds you silently the whole night, his heartbeat calm, his arms holding you tight and secure.
Renjun knows, but he decides it's better for him not to. He shifts a bit, "If not because of me, why are you sad?"
A part of you knows that this is his way of telling you he understands, that he's aware of what somethings happened behind his back. Renjun always knows. The bigger part of you hoped he didn't — selfishly. You know it's the safest choice to keep your mouth shut.
You're sad, for a million reasons or for just one, you don't bother keeping up with the numbers. Renjun looks at you like you're a treasure, though, like he means it — you think the only favor you could do him and for yourself as well is to lie. You grin, effectively hiding away the tears threatening to brim your eyes, "I forgot."
He doesn't really know what answer he expected, but his heart sinks at the reply nonetheless. Renjun decides, tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes quickly in a way Renjun wishes it wasn't. He wakes up tired — he was up all night singing lullabies to himself, whispering confessions that wouldn't change a thing and promises he'll never be able to fulfill, stuff that would never make you stay. Renjun didn't cry all night — there was a tear or two, there was three — he didn't just cry all night. He did so much more — relive the past, think that he's sorry, accept defeat and the fact that he's never gonna be enough for you; then he closes his eyes. The rain pours heavily outside and Renjun reaches a hand out to the sky.
"Perhaps, dance under the rain with me?" he says with tired eyes. "One time once more, baby."
You ignore the telltale signs of a heartache — maybe you were too numb, maybe you wanted to pretend it's all normal. Renjun tugs you outside and pulls you into a hug so tight, as if he didn't want to let go but he's losing you. Is he?
Dancing with Renjun under the rain is oddly similar to the one you shared with Donghyuck under the moonlight, and you find yourself full of guilt as you sway together with him, humming love songs just right next to your ear.
Renjun knows of that dance, of course he does. He was in front of the place you two were supposed to meet at, hoping that he could still make it. Because of this, he doesn't ask why you're entwining fingers with his while recalling memories of another. He doesn't mind — he thinks, as long as your eyes look at him so softly like that, he doesn't mind anything.
You think Renjun is beautiful like this — his everything an aesthetic you can endlessly write about. His eyes, though, his eyes look distant, wishful and longing. Renjun looks at you like he's letting you go and your heart drops, as gentle and as sweet as the poems he's written of you and the kiss he gifts your lips with.
"Just leave, darling," he whispers, "Stay a lovely memory to me."
It's just like any lovely excerpts you wrote, the last line with Renjun quite familiar and bittersweet. As if in any other circumstances, had he said only the second sentence and the second sentence only, it would have made your heart skip and your cheeks rise in temperature.
Real love is a little not like literature, though, at least the one you had with Renjun isn't. It wasn't almost being the same person. It wasn't sweet chaos. For both of you, it was doing what was the best for each other at the moment — whether it will make you cry, whether it will be painful before it becomes easy, knowing that it won't always be picture perfect but still wanting to give each other what you deserve. It was so much simpler than how he said it in his poetry, just as complicated but not any less romantic than that. Huang Renjun knew that you were aware of what was the best for the both of you — with neither of you ever wanting to force something to work and end up hating each other the more it fails, successfully trading the happy memories with more regrets, you walk away. Renjun doesn't follow just because love isn't always like the idea of it, but he does remember to never forget. You walk away, holding his love dear to your heart.
═ ∘❁∘ ═
Some people are just not meant to be alone, you think. Mark Lee comes just as quickly as Renjun was gone.
You don't even know why your paths crossed — Mark is literally the town's golden boy. He plays sports and aces exams and has a good set of friends; surely, he has more important matters to deal with, and definitely getting coffee at a dingy coffee shop isn't one of them. Not when it's three a.m in the morning, at least.
The shy barista at the counter sends you a gleeful smile as he hands out your order, one which you return with a curt nod and a quiet wish goodnight. He watches intently, subtle but focused — he really isn't one to gawk at people, but he couldn't help it. You held with you a smile that doesn't match the exhaustion in your eyes. You looked like hope. You looked like someone to look up and search for the stars even on a cloudy day. You seemed like a full-bloomed spring to trapped minds and sour hearts. You think Mark is a little too curious like Alice. Mark thinks you're even better than the Wonderland he'd always fall for.
He knows you saw him, he feels the hesitation in your stare. He knows you know him, he's shared a couple of classes with you and has done a couple of assignments as a team, so naturally, Mark couldn't help himself but ask, "Wanna sit down with me?"
You walk up to him with a nod, grateful. Mark tries to remain calm for the rest of the night — caffeine not helping — and he tries to look at his book instead of you, but he simply fails to. He tries his best to conceal himself, but he can't seem to tear away. He can't look at anywhere else when you're sitting there right in front of him — you know pain, you're familiar with sadness, have always been friends with enduring what you couldn't take; Mark sees in you a landscape that makes his heart hurt, a leafless tree he loves by itself but couldn't resist the urge to nurse back into life. Every now and then you'd look up from your cup and he would look away from this book that he's "reading" and your eyes would meet, and the both of you would shyly giggle and open up a small talk.
He walks you home that night, this one and the other and the many next times after that; it's just your thing by now, getting coffee at the most unreasonable hours of the day and staying up until it's too late for either of you to sleep because by this hour you should be blinking awake, walking down lifeless streets and past neon signs and holding hands. Mark would look at you with such awe and when he does, you have some things you forget, and your heart races. He's became a regular part of your day, a constant stranger. And then he becomes your friend. Then kind of more. You think, maybe, just maybe, he can become something more than more.
"I have many regrets in this life, you know? But I don't wanna be imprisoned by them," you shrug, too scared to look up at him and see that he wonders just what failures you've done. You continue your slow pace, both in walking and letting go of things much like words, "I don't want you to be one of them."
Mark stops walking, but he doesn't make you feel like you've said something wrong, so you finally glace up and meets his eyes; those that hold as much tiredness as yours, pressure, those that are glassy and brimming with tears. You smile, "And I like you, a lot, even if I'm in broken pieces. "
Mark looks at you and doesn't see majestic brokenness. Mark falls deeper in love that day, the next and all the others; you were deep like that. He fell and couldn't stop falling and he can't wait to fall even deeper into you, diving into unknown waters with blind fates and silent confessions of love.
Your relationship was practical — literal and convenient, full of compromise but in a good way. You both were almost always on the same page of what should be done and how to do it, and if not, you two know that it's the best to give it a rest and understand. The balance, that kind of synchrony — it was something you both need, was something you liked about your dynamic; the fact that the partnership was there and you're certain of no taking more than you could give and no giving of less than you deserve. For once, you feel like you aren't pouring liquid into a leaking jar, and you feel content at the warmth he gives you with.
Renjun never made you feel this way; he didn't make enough accommodations for your relationship and you didn't voice out your expectations of him, you just wished he magically knew. Because he always knew that you would understand and other people wouldn't, he ended up giving you most of the weight of the relationship you both should've carried together. Mark was everything you hoped Renjun was; this is where the conflict begins.
When love is fueled by what the past wasn't able to give and what the present is willing to offer, you end up falling for the ideas and not the person. He makes up to what Renjun didn't, he filled to the brim what Renjun wasn't able to, he satiates what Renjun couldn't satisfy. You always saw the things Mark did as what you expected from someone else, so you weren't able to appreciate them as they are. You never truly saw him as Mark Lee who loves you, always as the boy who did everything the last didn't.
Just as any relationship that revolves around somebody who's not involved, the conclusion was something you saw coming. It comes with tired eyes and worn out sighs, burned out hearts and linked fingers, sour hearts turning bitter. Mark doesn't look at you at all, and you keep your eyes set to the stars.
"The thing with me is I always long for consistency — for someone to understand me and stay understanding of me forever." He breathes out, voice raw. Did he scream? Was he screaming in those empty spaces you two gave each other? In any of those yells, did he call your name? You think you need to yell at the top of your lungs just to hear a sound louder than your heartbreak. He chuckles before continuing, "And I know that it doesn't exist and it never will. I knew that since childhood, but even if I continue disappointing myself, I never stopped hoping."
His shoulders drop — he feels that weak that time, even his knees buckle down and his eyes sting from holding back tears. "So baby, don't play with me," he whispers, more begging than warning and he falls apart, "I don't need a chase — I need someone to wait for the end with."
There's a whine at the back of your throat, but you settle with looking at his direction with an apologetic call of his name. He doesn't reply.
Mark never knew that he could fall in love with the same person all over again even during a break-up. You're just lovely like that — always dancing in your daydreams while you carry the world on your back. Mark feels his breath catch at his throat, he feels his palms go numb, he feels his heart going haywire and begging him so desperately because no, no, don't let go, please, don't let go!
"There's a huge difference between how much I love you, and how much I can take." He finally spares you a glance, his everything so spent and lonely and blue in a way that isn't the calm of an ocean. "If you can't love me, then please let me go."
Mark knew your answer when you smiled.
────── ❁ ──────
The trip to the coffee shop was slow and empty and chilly, your hands trembling in need to get a hold of warm coffee and your feet taking little steps to such a familiar place. Honestly, you don't even know why you're letting yourself go there — why do you keep on doing this, torturing yourself? You don't even know — maybe you came here to reminisce the past, hold it close one last time before letting it go. Maybe you're here to remember how Mark was, how he was before he met you — oh, how you wish he didn't meet you. How badly you wish he never did, how you wish he never offered you a seat, his comfort, his love, a place in his heart. How you wish you didn't steal the sparkles in his eyes, and at that very moment, you feel the sudden urge to turn around.
But you're already pushing the glass door wide open, causing the chimes to make that delightful sound.
"Good...!" the cheery voice fades, a concerned look adorning exhausted eyes, "...evening. The usual?"
You hum, nodding soullessly. The boy — Jeno, quietly works your order until he decides he's had enough of you rubbing your cheeks raw wiping down tears. He sighs and finishes your drink, hands it to you with a sympathizing smile, "Uh, you don't look fine, but are you okay?"
You suppress a giggle and a glare — why does he care? But you're lonely, too lonely, so lonely that you only manage a nod, "Rough time. I wish today didn't happen."
"Oh, but other people had the best day of their lives today. They wouldn't experience that day if today didn't happen," he smiles, flashes of child-like optimism and hopes hinting behind the sleepy glaze in his eyes. "You're on your way to yours."
And while on any other day, his reply would have made you annoyed, you find that he's right, and wish that he indeed is. You feel like it's the only right that didn't go wrong today.
Something warns you that you shouldn't be getting yourself caught in his strings and his ways, but you find yourself straying around his orbit. You were lonely. It was that bad — so bad that you found comfort in everything and everyone and Lee Jeno just happened to be convenient; It's just safe to be around each other, and that's what great friends are supposed to be, right? Jeno doesn't judge and he doesn't pry when you tell him not to push it, and he tries to understand without forcing you to make him if you're not ready. Lee Jeno had a soul like comfort and a smile like a piece of home. You insist that you had no interest in either, but with you so down and him the only thing pulling you up, you couldn't help but let him in.
You think some people are just like that — timeless souls stuck in mortal bodies, liquid gold; glowing and burning and bright and hopeful, stars. They're like stars — human stars.
He's always beside you, you see, Lee Jeno. He answers the dumbest questions and the deeper ones, he stays up listening to your heartaches and struggles. He knows a lot about you — never everything, but they're more than enough — and you know about him, too. It's a dangerous edge you two are leaning far too close to tipping over, and still, your gaze screams life and hope and energy, Jeno thinks he doesn't mind. He remembers earlier memories with him crumbling under your fingertips, tears in his eyes.
"Mark Lee... he's not replaceable and I'm not a replacement..." he shifts his eyes down, can't bring it to him to just look at you without breaking himself. He manages a heartwrenching smile, "but I think I'd rather be a replacement rather than a distraction, darling."
But you looked at him and cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead so mellowly, assuring him that he's neither. The storm in his heart stops and all his insecurities don't matter, and Jeno doesn't think he ever felt this good — so light, so dreamy. Your touch brings comfort, much like lullabies, and after years on insufferable insomnia, Jeno falls asleep.
Your gaze, too. If you continue looking at him that way, he doesn't think he'll mind anything.
"Thanks, Jen. For the coffee," you say with a smile, another night spent with him at the coffee shop. These days, you spend most of your free time waiting for his shift to end, watching him stutter and flush every time he realizes you've been watching him. There's a giddy feeling spreading inside your gut as you continue, "and for staying with me. That was so thoughtful of you — how much lovelier can you be?"
He laughs, shaking his head. He sighs, "Stop it. You're giving me hope."
Your heart skips a beat.
"Oh, but I want to," you quickly roll your eyes, an attempt to faux cool control, your expression immediately shifting to something welcoming and soft just enough that his chest tightens. Jeno feels kind of odd — a good kind of odd, a welcomed sensation. You beam up at him with glassy eyes. Jeno shifts his to his shoelaces.
"Don't do that."
"Jen..."
"I love you," he confesses, shallow breaths coming in quick intervals. The floor seems to sway under his feet and the skies feel like they're swirls of dripping liquid, and it's hard to even breathe, let alone swallow the bitterness of his words, "But I would rather have you not say it back than hear you not mean it."
"I'm... I— Jen," you gasp out, fast to hold his hands to try to keep him down. For a reason or two, you feel like crying. Jeno feels lost. "I'm falling."
But you're not, and you don't know why you said it, but there's a galaxy in his eyes and the universe so beautifully laid down in his mind and he's pulling you close, tears in his eyes, this boy. Lee Jeno who's so in love with you, Lee Jeno who's hopelessly whipped, Lee Jeno — your sweet, sweet boy. You look up to him and shakily whispers, "Please catch me."
Jeno looks at the luminaries and wonders what it would feel like if one day he looks into the very same orbs only to find that the stars have fallen.
The wind blows gently, the coldness of the place prickling his skin, but Jeno doesn't think it's what caused the flush to rise on his cheeks. He stutters, curses a little, says again those little words and dives for a kiss — you feel like it's the best night ever; no nightmare, just pure bliss.
You blindly walk the path inside your house, dropping your belongings on either of your sides. You try to keep your knees from buckling as you bring yourself to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes. You lean your back to the cold tile walls of your shower, feeling the rush of water that is supposed to drown your thoughts not doing anything to keep them at bay. What have I done?
Loving Jeno is easy, though, far too easy if you may. He's so full of love and in need of affection but never asks for them, and you're more than glad to give all of that to him without words needed. The days with him have been light-hearted, felt deeply nonetheless. In this little world, it's you and him, him and you, no one else. Right? Is that right? Do you promise?
Jeno knocks at your home one day, sullen and lethargic. He spreads his arms out for a hug, one you throw yourself into without hesitation. He leans into the touch, leaning down to burry his head on the crook of your neck, "Thank you, baby."
Your brows draw closer, "For what?"
"You were never mine, but you were always lonely." He suddenly says, He suddenly says, voice fading weak and unstable. There's warm tears dampening your shoulder, and he shakes ever so slightly that you panic and try to pull away, but he doesn't let you. Instead, he continues, "In my twisted logic, I made myself believe that it's the same."
"What are you saying, Jen?" You laugh, a bit confused and a lot afraid. "I love you."
"No, please, don't say that," his reply baffles you. When he lets you go, Jeno has a certain saddened look in his eyes, and it feels so familiar that you should be numb to it by now. You're not, though, and so you pretend to not know where this all would lead. He pulls you in again and hugs you tighter, "Let me tell you that I love you without you answering back, please."
The boy breathes out shakily, "I want us to have at least one memory that isn't a lie."
And then Lee Jeno says goodbye.
────── ❁ ──────
Park Jisung is the clumsy florist who keeps breaking vases in the flower shop his cousin owns, just several blocks away from the kindergarten both your nephews attended. You meet him one too many times you had to pick the little boy up, and talked to him finally one fine Tuesday when you decided flowers would be nice, out of random. You become friends from then on.
This thing you have with Jisung is something lovely, child-like, and carefree. It doesn't put any pressure on you — there are expectations, but they're all voiced out and kept healthy. You're friends — great friends, not best friends — whose dynamic is not necessarily convenient. It's safe to say that some people think you have a complicated relationship.
You think, not really. Not to the two of you, at least — Jisung just knows when you're down and in need to be left alone or cuddled, while you know when he needs to cry or if he's pushing himself to his limits. He knows what flower you hold most dear, your treasured scent, your favorite shade of yellow. You know his most loved tracks, the beat he looks the happiest humming to, the color of his dreams. It's much more simple than that — it's just that you two have fun, even with your differences, and when you're together, everything else just fades away.
You just... don't like being alone. Jisung doesn't like not having company — well, there are indeed people he doesn't want to be accompanied by, but he doesn't like being the only one walking alone in crowds of many. He doesn't make your heart skip, not really, instead it's just a warm feeling in your chest, much like home. He doesn't make you nervous — not at all, but he does make you feel safe. Comforted, even. It's the type of love you've always yearned for, the only kind of love he's comfortable with.
"You dance?" Your eyes widen in surprise, dropping your book on the table. Then you smile, "Oh? Aren't you full of surprises?"
"Mhm, you'll see." He says with embarrassment hinting his voice, but then he stops arranging the flowers and looks at where you're sitting. "You? Aren't you full of surprises, too?"
You pick up your book, a sudden low, shrugging. "It won't be a surprise if I say now, wouldn't it?"
He just shakes his head, tries to lift the vase to the other side and accidentally knocks another one down. You laugh at him, curious at how much control he has over his body that he must be able to dance so fluidly, hit the beat like it's what he's born for, and yet he can't seem to hold a vase and not break it. Jisung giggles, taking it lightly. You wish he didn't.
The days with Jisung are filled with your favorite bouquets and post-it notes. Each and every day, the words written inside changes from 'You did well', until it develops to 'I hope you smiled today,' 'I wish something good happened today,' and 'You're really, really pretty.' He'd take you to little uphills, asks you to teach him how to make floral crowns from wildflowers, dance with you barefoot under bright daylight. A little summer, a certain person, your most dreaded feeling of having someone mean so much that you let flowers bloom in your chest until it's so hard to breathe and you cough them up.
"My parents asked me to study dance in another country," he mumbles one day, a shaky breath leaving his lips, "Please give me a reason not to go."
"Chase your drive, Sungie," you whisper back. You lean your head further to his chest, safe and warm and fading, "I love you, so choose your dreams over me."
There's the slightest hint of betrayal in his voice, a tinge of rejection in his eyes, "If you love me, why would you make me choose?"
If you love me, why can't you choose me? You selfishly ask, the kid in you whining at the thought of being left alone. The greedy part of you begs to ask him to stay, the needy part of you wants to hug him until he's so full of you that he forgets even the bare thought of wanting anything else. The silent voice inside you, the one that learned and keeps learning, the one that could've saved you so many times if you listened to it, sighs sadly. Don't risk anyone's future for your present, it seems to say.
"Because I love myself too," you look directly to his eyes, cupping his cheeks in between your palms, "and we need to put ourselves before anybody else."
And yet again, you're starstruck by the almost golden swirls in his irises, a peek of his soul. You think his eyes are beautiful — astounding, art worthy, a sight to never get tired of. He thinks they're only beautiful because he's looking at you.
This thing with Jisung isn't something you should've let go. You shouldn't have let him go but you weren't ready and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone who held you so close beautifully. He didn't mean to, though — it was just too hard not to go overboard, and the next thing he knew, he was in love. He didn't mean to, so he walks you home the last night, hand in hand with a certain something hidden underneath his mellow smile. Jisung stands in front of you, waiting for you to open your gates, but you don't move. You stay basking in the tenderness of his gaze.
You think the little problem is that he's even more breathtaking up close and in silence, when the night feels so dead that it thrives — you feel like if you weren't so broken, if you don't keep on seeing another person when you look at him in the eyes, if you let go of the past, Jisung would be everything your heart desired. It just so happened that you two are both too infinite for forever, too broken to fix anything for the latter. Jisung was too charming — his smile was one that doesn't ask for attention but still steals it, never content with just taking your breath away so he takes with him your mind and soul.
You can't handle losing any more of yourself, though, so you smile, "Thank you for waiting."
"I have always been waiting for you," he grins shyly. You make a mental note to remember him like this — dyed locks a mess on top of his head and glasses messily perched on his nose bridge, tall and too pretty to be real, eyes so loving and expressive. There's an obvious sorrow in his voice, "Without fail, consistently, inevitably, forevermore."
You smile, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheeks, "Good night, Jisung."
The last note comes in between the pages of your notebook, a pretty pastel purple accompanied by pressed wildflowers. There, in his messy letters and colorful ink, reads a confession:
Maybe I couldn't stop myself from falling because it felt like flying with you.
You shake your head, sigh reading 'I told you not to do that'. Still, you feel a tug at your chest, a link between the two of you in the sense that you seem to be moving in synchrony with these words — Park Jisung is your last love, you swear. You shift your eyes, tired of the same chain all over again, flipping the note to read the words behind them.
When you find the right love at the wrong time, what will you do to make it work?
You sigh to yourself as you read the question, tracing the pristine paper with your pen, and finally, finally you smile;
Let it go. Set it free, because the greatest love of all is the one that lets you grow.
You tilt your head up, holding back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.
────── ❁ ──────
Zhong Chenle invades your life like a hurricane of mixed emotions, a little like three months just in time when you finally decided you've had enough heartbreaks. You meet him from one of your friends, Qian Kun, and literally had to stop and wonder how in the world he managed to find this thing — you can't help it, alright? Chenle just stood silent and proud, clad in leather and rumors and reputations and reeking of expensive. He comes in the scene like thoughts as turbulent as unwanted flashbacks and as easily as finding trouble looking for the right answer when you're in a rush.
Quickly as he entered your life, he became a friend; you're too familiar with this scene, but you've had enough. You can't take any more. You've spent most of your life haunted by sugar smiles and breathy laughs and in exchange, had yourself break everything you wanted to keep intact. It doesn't matter that he's not at all what he's perceived to be, it doesn't matter that he makes your breath hitch. You don't even care what you're going against with, if it's fate or heavenly beings or the world — no more. You can't anymore.
The world is the ocean and the ocean is a God — people are mere sailors who think they're stronger than the tides, but they're not; once the waters have made their decision to kill you, there's no reason you should fear the phenomenons trying to do you harm. It seems like it's made that plan, that thing you hoped so much you wouldn't do. Chenle knows so he smiles at you brightly, "Don't you dare run away from what you're feeling."
"Else what, you gonna run after me?" You bite back just for the sake of it, laughter bubbling from your throat, "Gonna go chase me down?"
He shrugs, taking a challenge and a risk, "You better not regret."
"Absolutely fucking not." Kun hisses after you've told him what happened, months after you've started dating and you're tired of hiding it already. Your friends already tease you about getting together, anyway, so why should you even hide? Apparently, this. The profanities leaving his mouth should worry you, really, but it doesn't; not as much as his disagreement. Still, you couldn't even bother to ask him why because you see it in his eyes — you know him that much, you're familiar with that look — "You're not in love with Chenle, please, we both know this."
"I am in love with him!" You say, hurt. The look in his eyes softens, but the pain of his word doesn't, neither does his determination, "Kun, please. I didn't tell you just so you could lecture me, I told you because you're my friend! I do love him!"
"Are you, really? In love with him, you say? Completely?" Your eyes shift to the side after his statement, the lack of sarcasm and warmth in his tone both bothering you. You want to cry. When you look at Kun, you find he feels just as much. "You're not in love with him in the way he deserves."
There's a dry chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your bag, standing up with a tear slowly rolling down in your cheek. More than devastation, there's a certain withering look in your eyes. Kun tries to apologize, but you're already moving away from him. The betrayal in your voice is impossible to ignore and forget, "How dare you make accusations about how I'm feeling?"
Falling in love with Chenle wasn't in the plan; in fact, you hardly even had any plans to begin with. As another fact, the only plan was to not fall in love with anyone anymore. Plans are ever-changing things, you'd always counter, they depend on the situation. When Chenle came in your life, you figure there happened to be another shift — something significant had changed, a good change.
Maybe it is why you didn't even take Kun seriously. You've always hoped that all those lows would lead to this point, the part where there's content spreading on your chest, a feeling just as bright as the luminescent blanket of embedded diamonds and rubies, a sky full of stars. By your side, the boy looks at you with eyes shining just as much; Zhong Chenle, badly misunderstood, so truly loved. You couldn't help but pull him in a kiss — giggly and messy, chaste and ever so delicate.
You think you could spend lifetimes just staring at him. You swore on it, really, to not be in love with him. More than anybody else, you hoped to fate that you'll never fall in love again. It's just that this person — Zhong Chenle, he has a tendency to be very addicting, and oh, how easily addicted you are. His kiss a lovely burn against your lips, his words a heavenly whisper to your ear, his existence a delightful surprise. You find it inevitable to fall because of the many similar nights before this, just weeks after you two met. Those days where you two were laughing way too hard for midnight and your heart blossomed with happiness it hasn't felt for long. It's the sweetest kind of doom.
It's doom, nonetheless.
"With whom was your first relationship with?" Chenle suddenly asks, no hint of jealousy in his eyes, but there is, aside from pure curiosity, something else — lost, baffled, seeking an explanation for something he doesn't even think he should know. "I mean, you're mine. You're my first love, but I know I'm not yours, and I'm curious. "
"You don't even know him, Lele." You laugh, trying to hide your hesitation. The boy insists, says that he just needs a name. You roll your eyes affectionately, "Huang Renjun. He's a great guy, but timing kinda messed up."
Chenle hums appreciatively, but he stops trying to find constellations and making up shapes of his own; instead, he dives in a pool thoughts deeper than the dark. He thinks of what he doesn't know if he believes in, but he keeps his eyes up at the stars and hopes to God that his life wasn't such a movie; he stays quiet.
"Who's Jaemin, then?" The question comes, harmless but shocking nonetheless. Chenle breaks his stare from the dull-starred sky and looks at you with a smile brighter than daylight. His question makes your gut twist. "Jaemin who danced with you under the rain... Jaemin who made your day with corny jokes, with late-night talks, with coffee, with notes."
You don't reply, so he ponders some more. He thinks about walking the streets holding hands, he thinks of cheek kisses. He thinks of waking up tomorrow and doing all of that with you. He looks forward to a couple of years — maybe you'll move in together, maybe you'll share a place and clothes and everything. He thinks of counting down the memories, having lived most of his life satisfied. Chenle thinks of doing it all with you; someone who takes tragedies and turns them into masterpieces. Someone who sings sad songs with a saccharine smile.
"Jaemin with a reputation, known for all the wrong reasons..." his eyes cast down, dull and slowly piecing everything together, "Just like me."
He thinks of a vow, a promise — to the stars, till dawn do us part. He thinks of how near the sun is from rising, and he thinks of silhouette, of being hidden behind one. You don't answer until then, so he just takes it as your reply.
"You don't have to. I already know," he smiles, fingers entwining with yours. "Maybe I just hoped that I didn't have to find out from Kun."
Chenle is innocent, kind of naive. He wears his heart on his sleeves and gifts its pieces to anyone who dares to get to know him. He loves a lot — his friends, his family, stars. A person who grieves the loss of midnight too, when the stars start to fade; you. Because of that, he could forgive anything you did and would do.
It's one of his many ways of love, you see, this thing you have going on. Chenle's just like that — you never know just how much more he can give before he runs out; there's just so much of him and it's difficult to put it into words. He's shown you how he treasures relationships, how he adores everything around him in each and every time a different way and kind. He's shown you so much, all the ways he displays his affection with, this little magic trick. That's not all of it, though, and a little part of you sinks because of the fact that a lifetime will not be sufficient enough for you to know just what this love is, completely, because every passing moment, the boy falls for something; each fondness different from the lasts.
Chenle just loves like that; so much that he doesn't mind being loved for carrying pieces of another person — being adored simply because he made you remember what you didn't want to forget. He thinks, if he doesn't think it matters, it wouldn't; he prays that if he doesn't bring it up, you'd forget. He's loved you for so long but you know so little of his kind of love; ever so pure and limitless, impossible to define and dictate.
When he holds your hands, though, you feel like it's enough — it's enough to have known slightly more than what you think you should.
"You give too much," are the only words that you were able to form. He looks at you as if to ask if you think so, and you feel the time stop for a bit when he leans his head on your shoulders, his dark locks tickling your skin. You laugh, humorless and sentimental, "Isn't it about time you'd learn to love within limits?"
"You're brilliant, you know?" He mumbles, albeit sleepily. "Kind of infinite. There are no restrictions in the love you deserve."
Something about brilliant just hits so different from beautiful — something so damning and sweet and you feel it again; just how much love you have in you, how much of it you are willing to give. Maybe boundaries really aren't your thing, maybe its the reason why you let Chenle adore you beyond what you know you can take, why you allowed him to give more than he should've given. Maybe it's why you poured affection after affection without conditions — maybe that's why you were selfish enough to love shadows. Maybe it's as most people say — you tend to burn too bright, to share too much of yourself, and not everybody can handle that. You're a bit too much for others. Maybe it's why you find yourself sitting down, pen roughly scribbling on paper.
Somewhere, there's a soul aching for your love... but no matter how much we try, we know it's not here, with me.
────── ❁ ──────
Kun doesn't knock at your door until a few weeks later, and whether it was him giving you space or him not being able to leave Chenle alone, you think of it as a blessing in disguise. It wasn't even after a week or two that you found it in you to get your life together — fake it till you make it, clean up your home, clean up your mess. You greet him with a smile on your face, tears prickling your eyes, "Come in."
Kun doesn't even say anything, he just puts the snacks he bought somewhere and crashes the sofa. He turns off the television, eyes the clearly was-messy place, and huffs at you, "It's just me. You don't have to play cool with me when you're feeling so broken."
"You're acting so much like Kim Dongyoung." You whisper just enough that he could hear before making your way to him and sobbing in his arms. Kun lets you stay like that, his hands threading your hair and affectionately patting your back, a soft 'I told you you're not ready yet' that's less scolding than it is loving. You stop crying then, just miserable sobs and sniffles, and he stands up to get you a cup of water. You look at him.
"Thank you, Kun."
Suddenly, his not amused expression is back. He moves away a little, placing a strict space in between the two of you, and then directly looks into your eyes, "Were you ever gonna tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Were you ever gonna tell me, or was I just supposed to learn about it after you've left?"'
"Kun," you breathe deeply, "I need to."
"For who?" He asks, hoping that amongst the reasons read your name. Are you finally choosing yourself? Is it still because of other people? He wants to ask, but his voice keeps failing him and all he can whisper is words about how he's proud of you, how much you've endured, how badly he wishes to ease the pain. Kun doesn't look at you with disappointment, with hurt; he looks at you with pure utter understanding, and you find it in you, a reason to smile.
────── ❁ ──────
You can't help but reminisce things as you walk from your home to the train station, neither can you when you asked the person in charge for which train will get you out of the place the quickest. You didn't really have plans, you never did, and perhaps that's where everything starts to go wrong; you just forget things, or at least, you try to suppress them. You never tried to solve anything.
This town knew too much — there are memories of Renjun on the trail from here to the benches, flashes of Donghyuck's sly grin meeting your gaze in the reflection of the glass whenever you look at the vending machines. You feel like you've walked every street in here, hand in hand with Mark, like you've danced under all these blinking lights with Jisung, like you've been to everywhere with Chenle. There is so much to remember, and this place can't hold them all and it breaks your heart so much, knowing that many things are meant to be memories, but not all memories should be remembered. You close your eyes in silent hopes that no matter how painful, you never forget one second.
It was impossible, surely, but you think that the thought of being able to recall them completely will be enough to keep you company. Even until now, you don't really want to be alone — some people are just not meant to be by themselves, and sometimes those people aren't really good at settling down either — being one of them, you leap from one crumbling bridge to another, hoping to never feel the pain of a great fall. There was never an end where you didn't.
Waiting for the train to board, you look back to a certain place in time. The one where you think everything began.
Your first love is something you remember vividly. It came in the form of childhood crushes, wildflowers, and ruined playgrounds. It's a coincidental meeting; you were running away from your house, tired of the yelling and the crashing and the constant fear in your little heart, while he was sneaking away from his house to play more because he's a 'rebel'. Your first heartbreak takes some years forward, years just a little far from now even if it feels like it's been forever standing here, waiting for an uncertain return.
Until now, you think that it was that night under a rusty slide and above dry leaves when your life started to change.
You meet again with Na Jaemin just minutes before your train arrives, a brief eye-contact and a skip of heart and it doesn't take so much for you to know; those eyes, that smile, the red string sitting too tightly on his wrist. You remember what promise that meant — you know that, right? The thing they say about red strings, how they connect people? — and what childish hope that strand held — if we wear this, we would always find our way to each other, because we have a red string connecting us now! You remember, you do, really — of course, you do; how you could you ever forget him? Surely, maybe he's grown a lot, and everything about him has changed, he even dyed his soft hair blue. You're certain, though, you knew that it's him — maybe the red string worked. Maybe it's the butterfly effect and the heartbreaks your heart and several others nursed. Maybe it's the look in his eyes that remained soft and sweet and honest.
You miss your train, but you can't help but feel like you're just in time.
"Jae—" you choke, eyes wide and shocked, "Jaemin!"
────── ❁ ──────
Na Jaemin meets you again on a busy train station, three years ago after he just came back in town for a visit. He remembers the punch in his gut at the sight of your face, the red string delicately wrapped on your wrist, far too small but still so beautiful. He remembers the sullen look on your face, the realization dawning on him that you're late for your class and he chuckles; you never really made it in time for school, even as a child. The rain pours and he has to fiddle his bag for his umbrella, opens it so that he could let you in. When he takes a step closer though, you were talking to another boy, and Jaemin thinks he's the one a little late.
He comes across you a lot of times next to that, too, but never when you're alone. He thinks, his timing is a mildly off as well. Every time he tries to come and talk to you — when you were sitting alone in the middle of a busy restaurant, inside the coffee shop, in front of his niece's kindergarten — there was always somebody else. It reminds him of back then, one of your conflicts as you started to grow up and apart; the many times you needed each other and the other person is too caught up needing someone else. Jaemin thinks that the beat you both are dancing to is a little too delayed.
Jaemin remembers meeting a boy just as blue as him, a face a little familiar, smiling longingly at the two dancing under the moon. He remembers eyes as regretful as his, he remembers a smile, "They look so happy, don't they?"
None of that matters, though, not when he's pulling you into a hug and dragging you to a rooftop, not when you're several floors off the ground and beside you is Na Jaemin, sitting side by side, with eyes that take you back to the past and makes you hope for an unbroken present.
When you two stand under the bright sky and you stare at him instead of gushing about flying, Jaemin realizes just how drastically different this present is. If the look in your eyes says anything, he's certain that you feel the same.
You have just always been waiting for this moment, you know? And you missed your train, but you were just in time to meet Jaemin, and the rush of affection cleared all the lines you had to cross and everything was light and filled with teary laughter before right now. You've had it planned, the both of you, multiple scenarios where you two could meet again — none of them are this way. It's awkward and tense and the other feels so far away; this wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Jaemin could leave. He should leave, he figures, thinking that it's always been what he's best at. It's not working, anyway; maybe it was him being gone and you going through so much, maybe it's life knocking some sense in the both of you, but none of that matters — it's not working. It's just like this, relationships — two people could start at the same point and still go separate ways. It's not meant to be. He could leave, forget, maybe he'd find enough courage that he marks this chapter closed and finally, finally stop thinking of childhood feelings and even the grown-up ones. He could find a new beginning in this chapter closed.
That's the way it goes, anyway, right? Some ends feel like new starting points. Jaemin could drop it here. He could make it easier for himself, he'd be able to say this isn't working and he'd be back to his normal self; the one that looks at you and looks for you in a way that he did before falling in love. He could be young and free, away from untold reasons and unsaid apologies and undelivered feelings. He could make it easier for himself.
But to hell with ease, he didn’t want to.
"Remember, back then, we would always sneak out to play in the rain?" Jaemin is the first to break the silence, "And we look at flowers... you used to cry at everything back then!"
You flick his arm at that, and he sits on the floor next to the railing because he couldn't hold himself up anymore, laughing. Even until now, this still feels like a very vivid dream. You spend the night trying to believe that this is reality — Jaemin does the same.
Fate has a tendency to bring people apart and put them back together again, so you can't really help it that Jaemin was months and weeks away from leaving the town again. There was a point where you cursed time — you just found him, and now, why is he being taken away from you? There was a time where Jaemin thought you weren't meant to be — if you are, then why do you keep on being forced apart?
He thinks he really should stop thinking this way. It's just something really odd, this love stuff, because it's never really just one thing but rather a couple of many nothings to make up an entirely different, supposedly magical occurrence. Love is never just love — it's oftentimes euphoria with even the slightest glimpse of devastation. Jaemin doesn't think he understands why the both of you try so hard to make it easy — no matter how difficult, he knows it's worth it, knows that he'll fight for it.
Jaemin spends his last day in this place smiling, cupping your cheeks as he stands in the middle of a busy train station yet again, this time, with you in his reach. The skies are dark but his smile is bright, and it burns brighter when you flush after asking him why he's staring at you so hard. The boy cooes, "Perfect should try to be you."
"If perfect was me, perfect would be a mess," you quickly counter even through you being too flustered. In your absolute anxiety, you think that everyone is looking and judging you. With the way Jaemin is staring at you, you don't think you'd mind even if they whisper things so mean.
"A lovable mess," he raspily whispers, sincerity in his gaze and honesty in his words. Jaemin smiles, "I can't make this up. I fall for you several times a day, repeatedly."
Jaemin lets go of your face and dips in to kiss your forehead, and then he giddily messes your hair. You can't even bring it in you to get mad — you have several minutes and you have so much to say and the time is too little, your words are so limited. Jaemin asks for your hands and leaves a red string, identical to the ones you gave each other as children but bigger and adorned with the tiniest butterfly charm. You look at him, confused, "What's this?"
"A farewell gift, and something I'll definitely come back for," he flicks your forehead as if to say it's so obvious, and you can't help but feel like time is running out all over again. You breathe, unsteady and ragged, a desperate call of his name, "Na Jaemin?"
He doesn't answer, but he wipes the tears streaming down your face and he hums.
"I'm so happy that the ending is me and you." You finally confess, taking him aback. You smile, sweet and cruelly beautiful, brutally emotional, and if there were no children around and Jaemin was a tad bit more shameless, he would pull you into a deep kiss. He couldn't, though, so he just gapes and stares and listens.
"I'm so happy that it's back to you."
As the train boards, you find yourself realizing how tough the world gets — the lovely, sinking feeling lingering in your chest as you recall the highs and the lows of life and fate.
You've had far too many great loves in your life, so much that using the term would probably not sound special anymore to other people — but they're different, each one of them, the way they loved distinct at least — and this one, just this one, Na Jaemin, by far, is the greatest.
The end is sweet and lovely, if a bit sour and bitter. The end is where you hopefully find yourself.
────── ❁ ──────
"Mom and dad keeps on fighting. " your nephew murmurs under his breath, one sunny Friday spent walking on streets that are cooling down, on the way to what must be the happiest place on Earth for a kid. "Do you think they don't love each other anymore?"
You nervously scratch your nape, thinking of easy ways to reply to the question. You think of your childhood, how you spent most of it dreaming of love. How until today, the thought of it still haunts you. You just shrug, "People just have some bad days, but look, they're still together, right?" he nods, and you feel a blossom of proudness in your chest, "They love each other, and that's why they had you."
The kid suddenly frowns, "Why do people get together, then?"
You halt your steps before continuing, on the verge of asking why he asked that question before you realize that it's your nephew, anyway. He loves holding mature conversations even if he doesn't understand anything, he likes asking away and being taken seriously, like an adult. You chuckle, "Uhm, because people make each other happy!"
"Why don't you have someone, then?" You don't know how to answer his question, and neither did you expect it. He looks too interested to be brushed off. "You said people make other people happy!"
"Hm, well, I do have someone," you think of sugar smiles and giggly kisses as you say those words. There's a comforted exhale leaving your lips as you look down on the kid, "But, he's not the only reason I'm happy... I'm happy with myself, without him."
"Do you not love him, then? Because you're happy without him?"
"I love him, I do, a lot! We went through a lot to find each other again," you smile kindly, patient. "But it's a different kind of love, just like how it is a different kind of happy with him."
His lips jut out, wondering about things not so completely disconnected from his first questions. He then sighs as if he's carrying the weight of the world, "If you had to find each other again, it means one of you left. Why did one of you leave if you love each other, then?"
Why?
"Well, you see, maybe..." there's no answer pouring from your lips, but emotions threaten to spill from your eyes and then down your cheeks. The child won't understand your tears, though, so you think of familiar faces and the one you entwined your fingers with, like home. You keep your head held high. "Maybe it's so that we could find each other again in a time where we would be better versions of ourselves."
It's not enough to sate his curious mind. "But if he's almost always never here, how are you supposed to know if he's the love you're supposed to have, then?"
"The love I'm meant to find has always been here, within me," you say genuinely, and the child, ever so confused but curious, remains silent to understand. You shake your head a bit, "but with him, this love grows bigger and bigger, and it helps us cross any kind of distance between us."
Finally satisfied, he stops asking questions at the sight of his most favorite place, muttering incomprehensible gibberish as he tugs you closer to the entrance. Then you think of how happy you are to be standing under this sky, above this ground — you think of the butterfly effect, all the little moments and major events, and everything that passed and will forever remain remembered. You think of all that lead you to this.
You look at the reflection of yourself from the glass walls of the candy shop, and you couldn't help a smile. The look in your eyes screams dreamy as you push open the door. This is it — you're on the way to loving yourself.
Welcome home.
#nct 127#nct dream imagines#nct u#nct dream x reader#nct 127 imagines#haechan x reader#renjun x reader#mark x reader#jeno x reader#jaemin x reader#jisung x reader#chenle x reader#nct dream oneshot#nct 127 oneshot#nct u oneshots#angst#fluff#request#nct u imagines#nct au#nct 2020#nct dream#nct
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Ring- zNation
younger brother! 10K, wife! Georgia, female reader
CW: Mentions death, explosions (all canon related) some-what angst, minor swearing
In which she only knew he was her brother when he recognized an old ring and she didn’t truly recognize him until weeks later.
Word Count: 1644
The urgent steps of the short haired woman quickly caught the attention of her wife, leather jacket flying up behind her slightly as she walks. The other woman’s eyes follow her, eyes lifting from the speech she was editing. “Georgie?” She jumps up from her seat, “What’s wrong?” “Talkers at the welcome center. They’re hungry and the center doesn’t have any bizcuits.” The dark haired woman blows a kiss to her wife as she speeds out of the building. Sliding the pencil and speech into her pocket (Y/N) stands up from the table, heading for the double doors that her wife ran out of moments before. A new set of arrivals wasn’t something new for Altura, this happens pretty often, and (Y/N) has desperate hope every single time one does.
Head of Pacifica security heads over to the quarantine station of the bigger outpost. She knew it was a slim chance, yet every time there was new arrivals she had the need to check for the boy. Twisting the ring on her right finger, the woman waited patiently for the truckload to return her wife and bring in a new shipment of dirty, tired faces. Her nervous eyes search the area around her, a few welcome committee members give her a gentle smile, others shaking their head in exhaustion. Eight years of apocalypse couldn’t shake her belief that her family is out there. Anyone other than Dante and Georgia would call her hopeless for still believing but (Y/N)’s intuition had never failed them. If her gut told her they were still out there, the two would believe her until the end.
Nervous summersaults enter the girl’s stomach as a vehicle comes into her sight line. “Don’t get your hopes up,” the woman whispers to herself, toying with the piece of metal on her finger. A kind voice speaks to a doctor, telling him that he and his friends had to go through quarantine before gaining citizenship. (Y/N)’s eyes search the group, one face catching her eye. He was too far for her to tell for sure, but the woman swore she recognized him. Georgia leaves the group, making her way to the woman. “One day playing with your ring like that is going to make it get stuck,” she chuckles, kissing the worried woman on her forehead. Shaking her head, (Y/N) leans into her lover’s side, “I’m just nervous.” Rubbing a hand up the soft material of her wife’s sweater Georgia frowns, “Did the feeling go away?” “No, no, I’m still sure someone is out there,” she bites her lip, “I just, feel like I know that guy, the dark haired one you just brought in. I can’t place him though like it’s been years since I passed him in a crowd or something.”
“After he gets through quarantine, you and I can go talk to him together okay?” “That would be great,” she pulls the speech out of her pocket, handing it and the pencil to the woman on her side, “You need an opener, a joke or something to get people’s attention.” “You are an angel,” George laughs, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “I try,” she teases, smiling over at the woman. “His name is Ten Thousand, if that helps.” “That’s a number, not a name. What was he before the apocalypse? A government experiment?”
(Y/N) waiting patiently for the quarantine process to end on the new arrivals, it felt like someone had their eyes on her the whole time. The feeling made her stomach feel like it was churning, the nerves killing her. George’s hand on her back lead her over to the group. She learned that the doctor Georgia was speaking to wasn’t a doctor but more of a therapist turned drug dealer from a small conversation. The short woman with him, Sargent Muller was a sweet girl, a fellow marine from before the world fell apart. The whole time she spoke to them, she twirled the ring, cutting eyes at the boy. He was glaring at her hands watching the metal and gems spin.
“Where the hell did you get that,” it was the first thing he said and it felt as if he spit it at her. “Pardon?” The girl tucked herself into her wife’s side, the voice made him even more familiar but the anger in his tone was something she didn’t expect. “Where did you get that ring? You steal it off a corpse or something?” His face was full of disgust as he snatched her hand up. The stranger stared at the silver flower, eying the center gems. 4, his birthstone, his ma’s. his pa’s, and (Y/N)’s. “It was a gift from my mother, thank you,” She scoffs, yanking her hand back. For the first time she took a good look at his face. She knew those eyes anywhere, they were her mother’s, the scar in his eyebrow from where he got hit by a hunter’s knife as it slipped from her hand. And suddenly, she didn’t have to trust the feeling anymore, her brother was most definitely alive. George moves to step between the two, not liking the way the stranger roughly snapped her wife’s hand up. She’s shocked to feel the other woman shove her to the side, hugging the man suddenly, “Tomcat!” The male’s body jolts at the impact, pushing her off slightly, “(Y/N)?” She slumps her shoulders, affected by the rejected hug from her once clingy brother, “Yeah, it’s good to see you.”
-----
(Y/n)’s back is pressed against the side of the building, trying to ignore everything happening in the building. She feels guilt already building in her stomach for being out in the grass while the woman she loves gives a speech she promised to be there for, but being in there feels impossible. Hot tears burn her eyes as she stares into the distance, eyes unfocused. “Hey,” the voice catches her attention, her eyes refocusing on the frame that appeared before her, “You missed an amazing speech you know.” “Yeah, she’s good at them, you should hear her when she has to give a speech on the spot,” her voice is slightly hoarse as she looks up at him. “So uh,” he waves to the ground beside her, “Mind if I join you?” “Go ahead, 10k,” she lets out a half-assed chuckle.
Hearing his chosen name in her voice stung like venom as he sits down beside her. “You know, in fourteen years of living with you, I don’t think I can ever remember you crying, (Y/n/n).” She sniffles, smiling at the old nickname, “Well, you were the clingy family softy back then and I was the heartless one, remember?” “You were never heartless.” “Fourteen year old you felt different. You know the last thing I said to you was ‘the world won’t end while I’m gone’. It’s almost hilarious the way the world works like that,” she toys with the hem of her shirt as she talks. “Yeah, and I told you eight months might as well been eight years, look where we are now.” She laughs, leaning into his side, “What the hell happened to us?” “The real question is, why are you out here? I don’t know much about Georgia, but she seems pretty good to you.”
“She’s amazing, too good to everyone sometimes if we’re all honest. All about trust and second chances. Georgia can really give you insight into your own humanity you know? I lost mine for a while, then there was her.” He nods, “Yeah I think we all lost ours a some point.” “Not her though, and I’m so proud of her, but the idea of walking back into that room made me feel sick.” “You know he can’t hurt her again, right?” She nods, her head falling back, “I know, but last time I was in there I was laughing with Dante, we were planning a double date to celebrate that the vote went through until he had to leave. Now he and Marge are dead, my wife has a black eye and a busted lip, and I couldn’t protect either of them, or you.” “My hand wasn’t your fault, you weren’t here. You didn’t kill Dante, or torture George. That’s not your fault.” “No, Ten, how long were you alone out there before your team found you? You lost Ma and Pa and I was with Lieutenant Dante looking for his wife states away. I should have gone looking for you the moment the apocalypse started, fuck my orders.”
“You knew Dante a long time?” “I did, he was my Lieutenant until we got separated in Colorado four years ago. I just headed North from there, found Georgia, and trusted my gut that I would run into you instead of looking for you.” “Stop blaming yourself for me being alone, I grew up (Y/N). And we found each other eventually.” She fought a laugh, the person she knew as her brother was lost, she would have to find comfort in the new person who occupied his body. She never expected him to be the kid she left alone years before but she never imagined he’d be like this now. “I guess we did, Tomcat.” The dark haired male laughs, standing up and offering her his hand, “Now, let’s get you to your wife. You need to properly introduce me to my sister in law.” She laughs, taking his hand, “Thanks for being cool about that by the way. Pa would have lost it the moment he saw us together.” “We always had each other’s backs, it was the ruling of not getting in trouble with Pa,” the boy laughs, pulling her up from the ground. And for that moment, he was Tommy.
#z nation#10k#10kimagine#georgia st. claire#znation imagines#George st. Claire#sibling imagine#apocolypse
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the truth / peter maximoff x reader.
Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader
Description: You slip up and Wanda takes things into her own hands.
Warnings: none.
Word Count: 1045
A/N: straight up, this isn’t the best because ya girl is sick but i wanted to get it done and out there.
Requested by @faithie-brock-gillespie01
Westview was the happiest place on Earth. There wasn’t a person that didn’t have a smile on their face or friendly to anyone they met. It was almost too good to be true but you couldn’t imagine living your life anywhere else. Westview was all you’d ever known. It was the only place you could ever remember being which sometimes seemed odd to you. There were memories that sometimes came in flashes of a mansion and people who you felt like you knew but any thought like that was almost squashed instantly by the force in your brain yelling you it was all your imagination. Westview was the only place for you. Why would you need to be anywhere else anyway? You had everything you needed right here. It seemed funny that the life you were living in Westview was the life you’d always dreamt of happening. Sometimes it did feel like you were in a dream or living in some kind of fantasy world — life felt too perfect sometimes.
Maybe that was because you were with the perfect man. Peter Maximoff was your boyfriend and you were crazy about each other. Nobody could even compare to him. He was sweet, caring and most important he always made sure you knew how much he loved you. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t say those three words to you. You really were the luckiest person on the planet.
The house you shared was right next door to Peter’s sister Wanda’s house. The two of you got along amazingly — you’d clicked that first day you’d shown up on her doorstep with Peter. For some reason she kept calling him Pietro and he never corrected her so you went along with it. It was his birth name anyway — he just preferred to be called Peter. Most days were spent with you and Peter hanging out with Wanda and Vision and today was no exception.
It was game night and after a few games with the twins, Wanda had sent them to bed so it was just you, Peter, Wanda and Vision. That was when the wine came out. A bright smile made it’s way to your face as Wanda handed you a glass. Peter’s arm was slung around your shoulders as you sat sit by side on the floor, leaning against the couch.
“You doing okay, princess?” Peter whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
You hummed happily. “I’m great, Speedy. Don’t you worry about me.”
For some reason he always seemed to be a little bit on edge — like he knew something you didn’t but you tried not to dwell on that. All you wanted to do was enjoy the life you shared here with him. If it was important then you were sure he’d tell you.
The chatter continued and the four of you ended up playing a long round of Monopoly which Peter somehow ended up winning. A glance at the clock showed you it was late. Wanda must’ve been thinking the same thing because she got to her feet with a stretch.
“How about you two,” she pointed to Vision and Peter. “Take the games back to the basement while us ladies clean up here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter saluted earning a chuckle from you. The two men took all the games you’d been playing that evening and left leaving you and Wanda alone. The two of you had been left alone many times before but, for some reason, something felt a little off tonight.
“Had a good night, (Y/N)?” Wanda asked, watching you get to your feet now finally.
A quick yawn passed your lips before you answered. “Always, Wanda! Nothing like a night with my favourite Maximoff’s. I’m exhausted now, though.”
“Get yourself home to bed! I’ll let Pietro know you’ve left.”
“Oh, no. It’s okay! If he knew I’d left him alone with his fake sister he’d probably start panicking and you know what he’s like when he panics. It’s a whole mess.”
“What did you just say?” Wanda’s tone of voice had completely changed. It was more menacing and her eyes were almost glowing red.
It was then you realised what you’d said. It was then you’d realised everything around you was a lie. Whatever hold Wanda had had on you had come loose and now you remembered everything. You remembered everything about your old life — the mansion, your friends and your powers. Fear was the only thing you felt as you took a step back away from the stranger in front of you. Why had she brainwashed you to think she was Peter’s sister? How had she dragged you and Peter here? By now, Wanda had a ball of glowing red energy flowing between her hands, head titled as she looked at you.
“Wanda, please. I just… I want to go home,” you pleaded, taking a step back as she moved forward.
“Yeah, maybe you should go home,” Wanda smiled sweetly at you and before you knew it you were hit in the chest with the ball of energy she’d been playing with in her hands.
You crashed through the wall and went flying, a scream making it’s way out of your mouth. You closed your eyes bracing for the impact of the fall but it never came. Instead you were caught in the arms of the one and only Peter Maximoff. You clung to him, sobbing out of pure fear and the pain from where Wanda’s magic had hit you. You didn’t want to go back, you couldn’t go back to Wanda now. Peter placed you down onto your feet, wrapping his arms around you so you didn’t fall.
“Pete,” you cried, burying your head into his chest.
“I know, baby. I’m here. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” he stroked your hair, trying to calm you down.
“I’m not going back. I can’t.”
“We’ll hide you, okay? I just… there’s some things I need to do and then we’ll find a way out of here.”
You didn’t say anything instead just opt to nod your head. If there was anything you were sure of it’s that you trusted Peter Maximoff and he would never let you down.
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it’s my first fic since i started my job ❤ i hope you enjoy ^^
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You and Me at the End of the World
Falbi. SF8 AU.
11194 words.
Read on Ao3!
»»————- April 3, 2026 ————-««
Falco wakes, a sigh escaping his lips. He feels an incredible weariness in his bones as if he had run a marathon yesterday even though he hasn’t really had PE in a month. He hasn’t had PE since his teacher had run off just like everyone else did when they heard that an asteroid was hurtling towards the earth and set to destroy life as everyone knew it. Everyone Falco knew just up and left their jobs and homes to pursue their dreams: his classmates dropped out of school to become idols or viral TikTokers, the mailman stopped delivering mail to Falco’s house and decided to fly to every place in the world he had always wanted to visit, and even the principal of Falco’s school had resigned but not before advising all of the students to drop out of school because it was useless now that they were all about to die.
Many people had taken the principal’s advice, but not Falco. He still goes to school on the weekdays and spends the weekend completing homework assignments that will never be graded. A few students had visited the school even after the principal had closed the school down, but they had stopped coming after they saw how many of their peers had dropped out and saw how even the teachers didn’t bother coming back.
It doesn’t bother Falco that he goes to school every morning and studies in an empty classroom all day or that he has to fish out study plans from the notebooks his teachers left behind just to give himself something to do. His parents have asked him why he bothers going to school when all of his classmates have pretty much given up, but Falco really doesn’t have an answer. If he had to say anything, it’s probably that he doesn’t have anything in particular that he wants to do.
Falco acknowledges that he’s never been incredibly ambitious like some of his classmates have been. His talents are unspectacular. He knows that he’s neither athletic nor smart. He’s always been average. He never studied too hard because he knew he’d never get the highest score in the class and he never exerted himself too much in PE because there was always someone stronger or faster than him. It isn’t something that ever bothered him, and he’s grown to accept that part of himself.
He doesn’t have any special interests either. Sure, Falco enjoys playing video games and playing sports like any kid his age, but he can’t see himself wasting the rest of his days on them. Some of his classmates even asked him to join them. Falco has had multiple offers: join a band as a bassist even though he’s never touched a bass guitar in his life, become a part of a dance crew despite his coordination being awful at best, start a video channel pulling off different stunts and tricks to gain a little bit of spotlight before they all died, among others. He declined all of them in the end, preferring to be alone, and even now Falco doesn’t regret his decision. He’s content being a normal kid living out the rest of his tedious life as monotonously as he always did.
His parents live quite normally too except for the fact that they quit their jobs like everybody else did when news of the asteroid came out. Rather than return to their jobs every morning, his parents go out on long walks together, often visiting places from their younger days. They usually leave long before Falco wakes, but his mother is always sure to leave out a freshly made breakfast for Falco and his older brother Colt.
Colt hasn’t made any drastic changes to his lifestyle, not like some other people his age. He, too, dropped out of school like many of his peers and Falco’s classmates, but he usually spends his time visiting internet cafés or playing baseball with his friends. The elder brother once curiously asked Falco why he bothered going to school and the younger just simply shrugged. Colt never bothered to ask again, and Falco was fine with that.
Falco rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth as he normally does. His hair looks like a mess. Since news of the upcoming apocalypse, people either care excessively about their appearance or they don’t care about it at all. Considering his circumstances, Falco should probably fall in the latter category, but he fixes his bed head all the same, patting down the cowlicks and running a comb through his hair to get rid of all the tangles.
After washing his face and getting dressed in his school uniform, Falco wanders into the kitchen where his breakfast is waiting for him. On the stove sits a pan with fluffy scrambled eggs mixed with little bits of crispy, dark spinach leaves, and sweet gruyère. Falco twists the knob on the stove with a sharp click before popping bread into the toaster. As he waits for the eggs to warm up, he fixes himself a glass of orange juice.
Falco ends up splitting the eggs in half, leaving a portion for Colt whenever he decides to roll out of bed. He sits at the kitchen island by himself, munching on some generously buttered toast in between bites of egg. It’s a much fancier breakfast than his mother used to make. Scrambled eggs were usually plain except for a dash of salt and pepper, but his mother has become more experimental with her cooking now that the end of the world is evident. It’s a good change, Falco thinks as the blend of savory bacon and salted eggs melt onto his tongue. It probably would have been nice if his mother had decided to be more adventurous with her cooking beforehand, but it’s not as if having regrets about this can change the past so Falco just eats the rest of his breakfast before dumping his plate in the sink and calling out to his brother that he’ll be heading to school. He doesn’t even wait for a response from Colt before heading out the door.
Ever since news of the asteroid, Falco has begun seeing very interesting people on his way to school. Some of them are familiar to him. Others he’s never seen before in his life. They’re not all strange, of course. Sometimes there are just kids running up and down the road kicking a soccer ball or couples holding hands as they take a morning stroll. But there are more than a few eccentrics on Falco’s way to school.
Lately, there have been people claiming to be superheroes. They have superpowers, they insist. Some will rush up to strangers on the street and show off their powers, but Falco has never seen any proof of their alleged superhuman talents.
Some people post videos online demonstrating their special gifts. Falco has seen a handful of them, mostly because his friend Zofia keeps sending them to him every few days when she finds them particularly funny. He finds them mildly intriguing, although he’s fairly certain that most (if not all) of the videos are either staged or edited to look real. He’s never been fully convinced by any of them.
On this particular walk to school, Falco passes by a person who claims to be able to create seismic shifts and another person who she can talk to animals. Neither person is particularly believable. Falco only gives a passing glance when the first person begins to demonstrate their powers by spinning in a circle and letting out a low groan that begins to grow into a loud shriek. The earth, Falco notices, does not shake. He’s even less interested when the animal girl starts shouting post-apocalyptic prophecies about how giant bugs will inherit the earth once the dust has settled on the earth after the asteroid impact.
Falco reaches the school gate and pulls it open himself because there isn’t a teacher there to welcome him like there used to be. He leaves it open to save trouble for anyone who ends up coming after him, although he highly doubts anyone will be joining him. He walks across the courtyard where some of his former schoolmates play soccer, looking at them briefly but not bothering to bid them good morning. When he gets to the building, he pulls open the door and steps inside. The sound of his shoes against the speckled tile echo across the empty hallways as he makes his way to his classroom.
As usual, it’s empty. Falco could probably sit anywhere he wants, but he ends up at his old desk, the second seat in the third row from the right. He sits down with a thud and lets his backpack fall off his shoulder. He pulls out his notebook and looks at today’s lesson that he copied from his homeroom teacher’s planner earlier last month: geometry, English, social studies, art, and science.
Falco dutifully completes his assignments for the day. He even double-checks his answers once he’s done. Maybe he’ll look over the answer key after school if he feels like it. He spends his break staring at the window at the kids playing ball in the field or playing pranks on each other in the quad. He doesn’t make any attempt to join them.
At 2:15, Falco packs his things. He puts away his pens and pencils neatly in his case, zips up his backpack, and slings his bag over his shoulder. As he walks to the door of the classroom, he thinks he imagines footsteps running down the hall. It makes him wonder if the impending apocalypse is making him go mad because he can’t imagine why anyone would be here when the world is going to end in a week. When he pulls open the door, he sees his friend Zofia about to reach for the door.
“Oh, good,” Zofia pants. She bends over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath. Ashy blonde locks are falling out of her ponytail. “I was afraid I missed you. You weren’t replying to any of my texts.”
“We’re not allowed to use our phones in school,” Falco says as he looks down at her.
Zofia looks up, an expression of mild disbelief on her face. “Geez, I can’t believe you’re still doing this.” She straightens up and sighs. “Our teachers probably appreciated what a goody-two-shoes you were back when they actually cared about their jobs, but I assure you that they don’t care at all now that the world is about to end.”
Falco rolls his eyes and walks past Zofia. He can hear her following him from the extra footsteps that accompany his. “What do you need? I thought you were busy trying to pet ‘every dog in the world’ or whatever before the asteroid strikes.”
Zofia’s arm links with Falco’s and she flashes a cheesy smile at him. “I realized it was impossible so I settled for petting ‘as many dogs as possible.’ I’m pretty satisfied with my work, so I’ve decided on pursuing something else.” She doesn’t immediately follow up with what it is she’s working on, and Falco knows she’s absolutely itching for him to ask.
“... What is it?” Falco asks.
“I’m glad you asked!” Zofia says, tugging him closer to her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and flips through it for a bit before finding what she wants to show Falco. On her screen is a long post on one of the message boards their classmates post on. “There’s this girl. She’s totally crazy.”
A glance at the phone screen confirms Zofia’s words. It’s a post that looks like it’s been circulating through message boards of different middle schools in their area. The original poster is someone named Gabi Braun, aged 14, and she attends Liberio Middle School across the city. Her post is a call for all people with superpowers to contact her so that they can save the world together.
Falco looks at Zofia and wrinkles his nose. “And you’re showing me this because …?”
“Because she’s absolutely crazy, but she’s interesting,” Zofia replies as she pockets her phone. She smiles at Falco. “Let’s go visit her.”
“What? No!” Falco says. He yanks his arm away from Zofia. “You said she was nuts! Why would we look for her?”
“Because the world is ending in a few days, so we might as well do something stupid,” Zofia replies. She links her arm around Falco’s again and pouts, batting her eyelashes up at him. “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious? There’s a girl our age who thinks she can save the world if she gathers enough nutjobs who think they have superpowers.”
Falco isn’t curious at all. “I have homework,��� he says to Zofia, which he knows is the wrong answer. Although Zofia hasn’t tried to convince Falco to stop going to school like the rest of their peers, she has been pretty vocal about how stupid she thinks Falco is for living the end of his life so mundanely.
“You also have a friend,” Zofia says. She begins to tug at him after every other word, trying to get him to follow her. “A friend you care about deeply and don’t want to see hurt if she ends up walking into some creep’s trap.”
“Then why are you going at all if you know it might be dangerous?” Falco mutters, but he knows Zofia’s right. His normal school life consists of him going straight home after classes and doing his homework, but it occasionally includes him reluctantly following Zofia sometimes to make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble. He’s not too surprised when he ends up walking with Zofia to the meeting place the poster mentioned in their message.
Normally, Falco and Zofia would have taken the bus into the city, but it’s difficult to flag down a bus. The schedules are erratic at best and oftentimes buses don’t show up on schedule at all. It is the end of the world, after all.
It’s a curious thing, seeing the city at the end of the world. It’s a little bit like how the movies portray it, but not at all like the movies at the same time. Cars fill the street while drivers honk their horns and shout at each other to hurry up because they don’t want to spend their last days on earth stuck in traffic. The doors and windows of so many shops and buildings are smashed in and their contents gone. If people aren’t running around and screaming at each other on the street, they’re walking around like it’s a normal day save for the fact that they’re all looking for the next thing they want to do before they die.
“I’d suggest going to the mall downtown or something later, but it’s probably ransacked like everywhere else,” Zofia says with a wistful sigh.
“We could have just gone to the arcade in our town,” Falco mutters. The internet café and the arcade in their town is a mess because none of the gamers there bother to clean up their trash anymore, but at least there are still computers there and nobody has hauled off the arcade machines.
The two wander about the city and linger near the subway station entrance the message board poster had mentioned. There are people going up and down the stairs to the subways and some kids skating around and doing tricks on their skateboards. Adults pass by hurriedly with their phone stuck to one ear, rushing to make plans with someone on the other end because they have limited time left. It feels like Zofia and Falco are just standing frozen in time while the world rushes around them.
“Who do you think it is?” Zofia whispers in Falco’s ear.
Falco scans the scene, his eyes quickly flitting over anyone that didn’t look like a middle schooler. He doesn’t think it would be any of the skateboarders, so he glances over them too. Whoever this Gabi Braun is, she doesn’t have any interest in anything aside from saving the world with her impossible idea. She must be looking for people just like he and Zofia are looking for her.
Finally, his eyes land on a girl their age with a stern expression on her face. Her dark eyebrows are knitted together and she turns her head from side to side every few seconds as she scans the subway station, her brown hair whipping from side to side. She leans against the railing near the subway entrance, her arms folded across her chest. Somehow, she looks familiar, but Falco doesn’t know why.
“Her,” Falco says. He raises his hand and points to her only to realize it’s rude and quickly lets his hand fall to his side. He’s about to jerk his head over in the girl’s direction, but Zofia has already seen who he was pointing to and starts dragging him over.
“Excuse me,” Zofia says, catching the girl’s attention. The girl’s gaze is intense, her brown eyes scrutinizing the two of them, but Zofia doesn’t shrink away from the girl like Falco does. Instead, Zofia holds out a hand cordially and gives the girl a friendly smile. “You’re Gabi Braun, right? I’m Zofia, and this is my friend Falco. We saw your message reposted on our school forum and wanted to help you.”
The girl looks at them suspiciously but takes Zofia’s hand, shaking it reluctantly. “You really want to help?” Her eyes flit towards Falco, who looks down immediately. “Why do you want to help me?”
“Hmm,” Zofia hums and tilts her head to the side. “Because the end of the world isn’t something I’m particularly looking forward to.” She looks over at Falco and, with a grin, elbows him playfully in the ribs. “And this guy doesn’t have anything better to do, so I had him come along.”
“What were you doing before?” Gabi asks curiously.
Falco purses his lips. It’s not that he’s ashamed about how he’s spending his last days. Living plainly is a far better choice than some people have made. Apparently, some people decided that murder was something they needed to check off their bucket list. If you ask Falco, he thinks being a normal student is far better than being a last-minute murderer. Still, it’s not something he wants to say out loud to a stranger.
He kicks at the sidewalk and mumbles, “Just … homework and stuff.”
To his surprise, Gabi doesn’t ridicule him or ask why. She simply nods as if this is a perfectly normal way for someone to spend their last days. She doesn’t ask them any more questions, somehow satisfied with Falco’s answer. She’s already digging around in her back for something and pulls a laptop out of her bag.
“I’m still waiting for people to show up, but I wouldn’t be surprised if nobody ends up showing,” Gabi says, gesturing for the two of them to sit beside her. Her tone doesn’t sound disappointed at all. In fact, she sounds rather like she expected this to happen.
Zofia sits on one side of Gabi, peering curiously over the brunette’s shoulder as she types away. Falco wants to sit beside Zofia. It would be more comfortable than sitting next to a stranger, but he would have difficulty seeing the screen. Reluctantly, he takes a seat next to Gabi.
“I’ve been looking at videos,” Gabi tells them. “People have been submitting them after seeing my message on the school forums.”
“Is there anyone particularly interesting to you?” Zofia asks.
“Not really,” Gabi says. She opens up a folder on her screen and a video file pops up. She presses Play. “Technology lets you edit anything into videos now. Some of these powers look super fake, but I still have to take a chance in case they do have powers and are interested in saving the world, right?”
The three watch the video play out. There’s a man on the screen claiming to have pyrokinesis. He’s wide-eyed and staring at the camera, holding out his hands with his palms to the ceiling. His explanation of his powers is similar to everyone else who has posted these kinds of videos on social media: he was just born with them and never bothered to reveal them until now for fear of being ostracized.
The flame doesn’t ignite right away. It’s a flicker — a spark, really — that grows into the smallest flame. The fire is hardly the size of the man’s fingertip, but he looks delighted just the same. The three children watching are not as thrilled.
“You really think this guy can save the world?” Zofia asks, raising her eyebrow.
“I don’t think this guy can save anyone,” Gabi replies. She’s so brutally honest that it would be funny if they weren’t discussing the fate of the world. “But I’m taking whatever help I can get at this point.”
They spend the rest of that afternoon looking through applications. Most of them are just internet trolls and Gabi has to roll her eyes more than once before closing out the applicant’s video. There are a few promising candidates Gabi moves to a separate folder but only when Falco and Zofia also agree that the person might be worth looking into. They go through written applications too, often filtering out any CVs that aren’t descriptive enough and sometimes those that are too descriptive and more fitted to some sci-fi character description than an actual person. Gabi calls a few numbers from the short list of people that the three all agreed on, but nobody ever picks up. Nobody shows up either. Still, Gabi doesn’t seem to be discouraged.
“Why are you doing this?” Falco asks at one point while they’re watching a video of a man who claims he can read people’s thoughts.
“Hm?” Gabi says, looking away from the video.
“Just … this whole thing,” Falco says and vaguely waves at the screen. “You know it too. This might not work, so why even bother trying to save the world?”
Gabi frowns and her eyebrows knit together like she doesn’t quite understand Falco’s question. “Well, what else would I be doing?”
Falco doesn’t respond because, well, he doesn’t have an answer. It’s not like he knows what to do with the rest of his life either. If Zofia hadn’t convinced him to come here, he’d just be at home with his head stuck in a textbook. Even if it’s useless, whatever Gabi is doing is far more interesting.
»»————- April 4, 2026 ————-««
Falco’s parents drop him off at the edge of the city. His mother had wanted to drop him off closer to his destination point, but Falco assured her that it wasn’t necessary. Besides, there were a lot of weirdos in the city, he reasoned, especially now that the apocalypse was coming. She reluctantly allowed him to be dropped off at the edge of the city, but not before giving him a can of pepper spray and a baseball bat in case he ran into anybody cruel enough to mug a middle schooler.
He doesn’t have any trouble meeting Gabi at the library they agreed to meet at. Zofia isn’t there with him after deciding this morning that saving the world wasn’t what she wanted to spend her last moments doing. She did, however, request that Falco send Gabi her best wishes, which Falco promised to pass along.
The two of them sit on the tenth floor of the library at a table by the window. The library isn’t exactly empty, but it’s not exactly filled up either. There are a few other visitors in the library with them. Some are seated at tables or couches, but others choose to sit between bookshelves, folding up their legs so that people can walk around if they need to get through. Hardly anyone pays attention to Falco and Gabi. They’re too busy flipping furiously through their books, eyes scanning the pages in seconds, as they try to finish their reading list before the world ends.
While Gabi watches more videos of superpowered applicants while Falco gathers books on powers that interest them: pyrokinesis, psychokinesis, time travel, to name a few. As he gathers research articles, he also stumbles across the section of the library dedicated to outer space and celestial bodies and decides to grab a few books on asteroids and meteors as well. There’s a slim chance that they might help, but Falco might as well try.
Gabi doesn’t talk much to Falco, too engrossed in her research to hold a conversation with him. He doesn’t talk much to her either. He does, on occasion, glance up at her to observe her progress, but she always seems to be staring at the screen with the same dissatisfied frown on her face. Every once in a while Gabi will lean over and ask Falco about whether or not a certain candidate looks promising, but his answer is almost always no and she goes back to staring at her screen.
At noon, the two take their lunch break. Gabi hadn’t brought anything. She tells Falco she was planning on just grabbing something from the snack machine near the elevators. The library remains one of the few places that was relatively untouched by thieves and vandals because not many people think “let’s rob the library” when they hear that the world is ending. Because Falco’s mother has a tendency to overpack his lunches, Falco decides to split his meal with Gabi. He figures that a sandwich is far better than whatever half-filled bag of chips Gabi would end up grabbing from the vending machine.
Falco munches on his katsu sandwich. It’s a favorite of his: two slices of pillowy milk bread with a thick cut of juicy pork cutlet covered in crispy bread crumbs wedged in between. A little butter and mustard give the sandwich a little bitterness that makes the tip of his tongue tingle and savory tonkatsu sauce drizzled over the thinly sliced cabbage underneath the katsu complete the simple but scrumptious sandwich.
He looks over to see if Gabi is enjoying her food as much as he is, but she’s scarfing it down so quickly that he isn’t sure she’s even taking the time to taste it. In between bites, she’s scrolling through her laptop with greasy fingers, frowning. A glance at the notebook beside her tells Falco that Gabi hasn’t found many promising candidates.
“Do you really think this is going to work?” Falco asks. He’s halfway done with his lunch but Gabi is a bite away from finishing hers.
Gabi shrugs. She doesn’t look up as she answers. “I don’t know. It’s worth a shot, right?” She scrolls a bit more before she pauses, her fingers hovering above the touchpad. Her eyes flicker over to Falco so suddenly that he nearly drops his sandwich. Gabi narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, her attention entirely on the boy. Her gaze is intense and she scoots to the edge of her seat, leaning in towards Falco. “You’re awfully skeptical about this plan for someone who’s trying to save the world.”
Falco gulps, trying not to shy away from her intense gaze. If he were a turtle, he’d be curled back in his shell right now. “I just want to make sure we’re not wasting our time,” he mumbles.
“Falco, do you not believe that people can have superpowers?” Gabi asks.
Falco is about to shake his head and say that that’s not the case but before he can Gabi settles back into her seat, arms folded across her chest, and announces, “I have a superpower.” She says it quite loudly, loudly enough for her voice to be heard across the entire floor, but people are too preoccupied with their reading to pay much attention to her although a few readers do shoot her a dirty look for being so loud.
Falco is not quite sure what he expected Gabi to say, but it wasn’t that. He sits there awkwardly, sandwich still half-finished in his hands. After a moment, he asks, “Er, what is it?”
Gabi pops the last bit of her sandwich in her mouth and wipes her fingers on her jeans. After she chews and swallows, she leans towards Falco once more and gives him an impish grin. “I can read people’s minds. Telepathy,” she tells him. She doesn’t wait for him to ask for a demonstration.
Gabi puts one hand on Falco’s chest and stares deeply into his eyes. Falco’s heart is beating wildly in his chest. If by some miracle Gabi doesn’t hear it, Falco’s certain that she’ll be able to feel it underneath her fingertips. She doesn’t say anything about it, though, just continues to stare at him with those intense brown eyes of hers as she reads every single thought racing through his mind right now, like how he’s never been quite this close to anyone, how he’s never had his heart beat quite this fast, or how he thinks he might just die right here right now before the asteroid even hits.
Suddenly, Gabi’s face breaks into a smile and she pulls her hand away, Falco’s chest feeling achingly empty now. Gabi is laughing now, but Falco doesn’t have any idea why.
“God, I didn’t think you’d believe me,” she laughs. She’s laughing so hard that it’s difficult to make out what she’s saying. “I didn’t think you’d believe me, but you really did. You’re really gullible, aren’t you?”
Falco blinks, confused for a minute as he tries to process what just happened. “You … can’t read minds?” he says a beat too late.
“No, god, but you thought I did,” Gabi laughs.
“Then what’s your power?”
Gabi’s still giggling as she answers. “Something else. It’s not important. I’ll tell you if it ends up being useful.”
She’s laughing. She’s still laughing. It’s a laugh that comes from her stomach and has her clutching her sides. People are glaring because it’s disrupting the peace, and Falco feels like he should tell her to stop but he finds that he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t even mind that she’s laughing at him. He just likes the sound of it.
»»————- April 5, 2026 ————-««
They sit with a pack of chocolate-covered biscuits shaped like little bamboo shoots between them. While Falco eats them one at a time, usually popping one in his mouth after he’s read a few pages of whatever book he’s reading, Gabi shovels them into her mouth by the handful without even looking. They’ve gone through their fifth pack of the little chocolate biscuits and it’s not even noon yet.
“Do you think you can do it?” Falco asks at some point.
“Save the world?” Gabi asks. She sucks her thumb, trying to get the chocolate off. Falco nods and Gabi says, “Well, who else if not me?”
“Literally anyone else,” Falco replies because, well, they’re only kids.
“Right, and just die young, dumb, and stupid like every other kid our age,” Gabi says with a roll of her eyes. “No thanks. I’d rather have died trying to do something. Besides, it’s not as if the adults are having that much luck either.”
Gabi slides her laptop over so that Falco can see the screen. On it, a video plays of a rocket shooting into space. The caption on the bottom reads “NASA Space Missile Failure.” Falco vaguely recalls hearing about the missile launch earlier this morning. The scientists were excited about it, hoping that the missile would collide with the oncoming asteroid and shatter it into smaller pieces that would burn up in the atmosphere, but it seems like they had been excited for nothing. Apparently, they had miscalculated the trajectory of the missile and it would miss the asteroid completely.
“That sucks,” Falco says finally. He’s not exactly sure how he feels about the news. He should probably feel disappointed, but he feels the same way he did a month ago when he heard the world was ending: perfectly indifferent.
Gabi shrugs. “Armin said it wouldn’t work. He said their calculations were off,” she says. She glances at Falco and adds, “Armin’s a genius. He’s my mentor’s husband.”
“A genius? Is that his superpower?” Falco asks. If Gabi knows someone who’s a literal genius, he doesn’t see why they’re doing all this work. Shouldn’t this genius, whoever he is, have all the answers?
Gabi thinks for a minute, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not sure. My mentor just says Armin’s a genius, but he’s way too humble to admit it,” Gabi finally answers. She frowns, leaning forward with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “He can’t help us though. He’s busy tending to his fish.”
Falco isn’t certain he’s heard her right. “His fish?” he repeats.
“Yeah. He’s a marine biologist. He likes to have some fish at home,” Gabi explains like it’s the most normal thing in the world to take care of your fish when the world is about to end. “He says it calms him down to see them swim around.”
Falco is still trying to wrap his head around all of this — Gabi and her willingness to save the world, the genius she just spoke of who just wants to take care of his fish, and the asteroid hurtling towards the earth. He doesn’t understand any of it. “So it’s okay for you, a kid, to try and save the world while a literal genius is taking care of fish at his house instead of trying to prevent the apocalypse?”
Gabi blinks. “Yes,” she replies as if there could be no other answer. “Because it’s what I want to do. And it’s what he wants to do. Why should we be doing anything different?”
“But shouldn’t you be doing, I don’t know, kid things?” Falco asks. He’s starting to feel a little frustrated talking to her. This isn’t what she should be doing at all. This isn’t what they should be doing. They should be enjoying the last few days they have together. They should be playing games at the arcade, or wandering around the empty mall, or eating snacks at the park, not … whatever this is.
“Maybe. Probably. But I don’t want to,” Gabi says. She turns the laptop back and starts typing away. “I don’t like the idea of doing something just because the world is ending. I’ve always done what I wanted, so I don’t have any regrets. This is the only thing I want to do now.”
It’s more than Falco can say. Like Gabi, he doesn’t have anything he wants to do, but then he’s never really ever wanted to do anything. All his life he’s been floating from place to place and participating in whatever was expected of kids his age: attending school, joining a sports team, learning an instrument. He didn’t care about any of it. He doesn’t have any regrets about it, but he does feel a sudden wave of admiration for Gabi. She’s saving the world now because she feels like it, but she could just as easily leave this task for another if something else strikes her fancy. Falco wants to know what it feels like to pursue something so impulsively.
He wants to want things. He wants to be with Gabi. He wants to help her save the world.
“Is there something you want to do before the world ends?” Gabi asks. She’s just asking to be polite. Her eyes are already glued to the screen of her laptop, her face turned away from him. “You don’t seem to be as into the whole ‘save the world’ thing as I am.”
Falco shrugs even though she’s not watching. “I don’t mind it.” Falco could leave it at that. He doesn’t have to say anything else, but he does. “There isn’t really else I want to do anyway,” he tells her, but it’s a lie.
He wants to hold her hand.
»»————- April 6, 2026 ————-««
Falco has never looked forward to anything as much as the researching sessions he has with Gabi. He’s never really looked forward to anything before, actually, and he’s not sure why being surrounded by books and looking at (mostly) fake superhero videos with Gabi appeals to him so much.
He likes a lot of things about the way Gabi works. She’s quiet and focused, eyebrows knitted as she decides whether or not to call another applicant that probably won’t pick up. She never gets discouraged even though things don’t look promising. They’ve probably called dozens of people and only a third have actually responded. Most of them turned out to be trolls, which isn’t surprising considering they were taking submissions from strangers on the internet, but Gabi still carries on. Maybe it’s Gabi’s passion and stubbornness that has drawn Falco to her, but it feels like it’s more than that too.
He feels, in a way, like Gabi completes him. Before he met her, he was wandering aimlessly. Now he doesn’t know what he’d do without her. Staying at home and studying seems unbearable when the option of being with Gabi exists.
Falco isn’t sure how Gabi feels about him. He doesn’t even know if she has any feelings towards him — if she likes him, hates him, or just feels completely indifferent. At any rate, she doesn’t seem to mind spending her last few days on earth with him, and that makes him feel a little better about the world ending. Occasionally, he thinks about how Gabi probably wouldn’t notice if he stopped coming to help her. Well, she might notice, but Falco doesn’t think Gabi would change her routine. She’d just continue saving the world with or without his help.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Falco asks at one point. Gabi looks at him with a raised eyebrow and he elaborates “We hardly know each other and we’re just here … saving the world together.”
Gabi frowns, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t think it’s weird,” she says to Falco, and he feels his heart flutter in his chest. “A lot of weird stuff has happened because it’s the end of the world and we just happened to meet each other. If a total weirdo had showed up instead of you, then maybe I would be saving the world with them and we never would have met.” She doesn’t seem to mind the thought of working with a total weirdo in place of Falco.
Falco slumps in his seat, deflated, but Gabi doesn’t seem to notice.
“I’m glad it was you though,” Gabi continues.
Falco lifts his head. “Really?” He scoots closer in his seat, curious. “Why?”
Gabi twirls her pen between her fingers, looking upward as she thinks. After a moment, she shrugs. “I don’t know,” she answers. “It just feels better knowing I’m working with someone. It’s better than working alone, I guess. I might feel the same way even if it were someone else, but I also might not. Still, I’m glad it’s you.”
It doesn’t really mean anything. Like she said, it could have been some other kid who ended up answering Gabi’s post and helping her with her impossible quest to save the world. It could have been some other person sitting with her and looking up useless articles on asteroids and meteorites. It could have been someone else having this conversation with her. But, Falco reminds himself, it wasn’t. It’s him sitting beside her, eating snacks and discussing the end of the world. It probably isn’t fate that they met, but it kind of feels like it is.
»»————- April 7, 2026 ————-««
Tired of the same snacks from his pantry, Falco decides to try the café on the first-floor of the library for some new things to eat. He had asked Gabi what she wanted and she told him to just get her anything.
The first floor café is relatively well-stocked for the end of the world, but maybe it’s because bookworms prefer literature to satiate their appetites rather than food.
The display case, usually filled with dessert sandwiches with slices of strawberries and kiwi and slathered with whipped cream, is cleaned out, but the shelves behind the cash register are still stocked with different kinds of chips and candies. Falco scans the shelves, looking for his favorites: baked potato chips covered in rich butter, little rice crackers flavored with soy sauce and red pepper flakes, and chocolate cookies in the shape of tiny hamburgers.
Falco stares, for the longest time, at the other snacks and wonders what Gabi would like, if she has a preference for anything. Maybe he should have paid more attention when they were eating together to see if she ever seemed to gravitate to certain foods he brought or commented on any of the snacks they ate together, but he can’t recall anything. He feels stupid for not noticing, but he also doesn’t want to keep Gabi waiting and ends up grabbing whatever grabs his attention.
He arrives at their designated research table, huffing from the flights of stairs he had to climb. Falco deposits the snacks rather ungracefully in front of Gabi, letting them fall out of his hands and onto the table. Gabi looks up from the noise, her eyebrows raised, but she smiles when she sees that it’s him and Falco’s heart flutters almost painfully in his chest.
“These are yours,” Falco says, shoving Gabi’s share of the snacks towards her.
“Thanks.” Gabi picks up a snack with a gray cartoon cat on the wrapper. It’s a puffed corn stick. Pizza-flavored, the wrapper says. She opens it with a grin. “How did you know these were my favorite?” she asks.
“I … I don’t know,” Falco says. “Must have been a lucky guess.”
But it doesn’t feel like it.
It feels like he knew, from the beginning, what she had wanted. It’s like he had let his instincts take over when he had randomly chosen snacks for Gabi and somehow selected her favorite ones. It was as easy as picking food for someone he had known for his whole life, which is impossible because he hadn’t even known Gabi a week ago. Maybe, then, he had known Gabi in a past life and that’s how he happened to pick her favorites. Or maybe they really are fated to be together and knowing things like her favorite food are just second nature to him. The latter two explanations are almost impossible and yet so much more likely than the first explanation. He doesn’t know how to explain it though, not without seeming crazy, so he doesn’t say anything.
»»————- April 8, 2026 ————-««
Tomorrow is the end of the world and they are no closer to saving everyone from the asteroid hurtling towards the earth than they were yesterday. In fact, they are no closer to saving the world than they were a week ago when this effort began or even a month ago when they had first found out the world was going to be destroyed. Their attempt to prevent the world’s end was futile and their effort today will probably be equally useless. Still, here they are on the tenth floor of the library doing the same thing they did yesterday.
The sun is about to set and it’s almost time for them to head home. Falco wonders if they’ll be here tomorrow spending their last moments at the library when the world ends or if Gabi will call it quits and suggest they spend their last day without each other. He’s too afraid to ask.
They pack up silently, Gabi slipping her notebooks and laptop into her bag as Falco arranges the books into neat stacks on the slim chance that they’ll return tomorrow. Falco notices that Gabi packs the same way she always does — quickly, dumping everything into her backpack as if she doesn’t care if they get damaged — and it stings a little bit that she doesn’t pack a little slower this time like he does just so that he can spend a few seconds more with her. Maybe he shouldn’t be so disappointed because it’s obvious she doesn’t care for him more than she would care for a coworker or a classmate she was randomly paired with to complete an assignment.
Falco is silently pining when Gabi speaks, startling him.
“So, the world ends tomorrow,” she says easily. It’s like she’s talking about the weather. “Are you satisfied with how you spent your last days? No regrets?”
They’re two questions that seem related, but Falco’s answers for them are very different.
He is satisfied with how he spent his last days. The past week perhaps isn’t as spectacular by other people’s standards. Falco didn’t go bungee jumping or skydiving or deepsea divings like some of his peers. Some people would argue that the way he spent his last few days was as boring as the way he spent the past month, although Falco would argue that it was infinitely better because he had Gabi. He’s convinced that however he chose to spend his last days, as long as they were with Gabi, he would be happy. He could even watch the grass grow with Gabi and he’d be completely content. So, yes, he’s completely satisfied with how he spent his last few days, but he has many regrets.
He regrets not meeting Gabi earlier. He regrets not being able to spend more than a week with her. He regrets not doing things with her that kids their age should be doing: playing soccer in the field, catching butterflies by the river and letting them go, and hanging out at the arcade and beating their high scores. But most of all, he regrets feeling this way about Gabi and not being able to tell her.
Falco doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he asks, “Do you?”
“No,” Gabi replies with a smile and it makes Falco feel a little better about the ache in his chest.
»»————- April 9, 2026 ————-««
Falco doesn’t expect Gabi to call him the next day. Before bidding each other goodbye yesterday, Gabi suggested they not see each other again.
“You should spend the day with your family or something,” Gabi said to him. “Your parents probably want to spend their last day with their kids. I’ll just do this by myself. And, you know, thanks for everything.”
He had wanted to tell her that it was fine if they spent their last day together. He spent his whole life with his parents. He should at least spend one more day with Gabi if this is his last one, but he bit his tongue and said goodbye to her with the fakest smile before turning on his heel and walking as quickly as he could to where his mom would pick him up.
Falco was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Gabi called and told him to meet him at the bottom of the hill near the outskirts of his town. She said her mentor was coming back today and that they could visit her to see if there was still a possibility of saving the world. Falco didn’t even question her or ask if they really have any hope after their days of research lead to nothing. He just leapt out of bed, told his parents he would be out and that he loved them, and biked up to the hills where Gabi asked to meet him.
When he gets there, Gabi is already waiting for him, bundled in a navy peacoat and a gray scarf tied loosely around her neck. Her face breaks out in a grin when she sees him and she waves a gloved hand to greet him.
“How did you get here so fast?” Falco huffs once he finally reaches her. The hill gets too steep for him to bike, so he gets off his bicycle and walks with Gabi beside him.
“My uncle Reiner drove me here,” Gabi replies, shoving her hands in her pockets. She rolls her eyes, but her mouth twitches with a smile. “He says he wanted to spend a little more time with his favorite niece before she becomes famous for saving the world.”
“You really think we’re gonna do it?” Falco asks.
Gabi shrugs. “I think if my mentor thinks so, we probably have a good chance.”
They arrive at the mentor’s house at the top of the hill. It’s small, more like a tiny cabin than an actual house. When Gabi knocks, they’re greeted by a blond man with big blue eyes. The man smiles when he sees Gabi, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Hello, Gabi. I guess Mikasa told you she’d be coming back today,” the man says. He looks over Falco. “Hello. You must be Gabi’s friend Falco. I’m Armin.” The man offers a hand for Falco to shake.
Falco nods, wondering why the man’s name sounds so familiar. It’s only when he’s shaken the man’s hand that he remembers Gabi had mentioned Armin a few days ago when they were researching in the library. He’s the genius that likes to spend his days taking care of fish.
Falco follows Gabi when the man invites them into the cabin. Falco’s a little taken aback at how simple the interior is. The living room is small and the kitchen is smaller with only the essentials. There isn’t even a microwave.
“Sit down,” Armin says, gesturing at the dining table in the middle of the room. He heads towards the kitchen cabinets where he takes out three mugs. “I’ll make tea for us while we wait for Mikasa.”
“Can we see your fish later, Armin?” Gabi asks. She’s already settled down in a chair, kicking her legs back and forth. It’s clear that she feels at home here. When she notices that Falco hasn’t taken a seat yet, she gestures for him to sit down at the seat closest to her. To Armin, she continues, “I was telling Falco about you and he was curious about what a genius would be up to at the end of the world if he wasn’t trying to prevent the apocalypse.”
Armin chuckles. “Do you like fish, Falco?” he asks. He smiles when Falco makes a surprised noise, an answer stuck in his throat. “Sure, we can take a look a little later.”
Over apple tarts and tea, Gabi and Armin fill Falco in on Mikasa. She’s Armin’s wife, Gabi’s mentor, and the key to saving the world. Mikasa has a superpower, Gabi explains, that allows her to identify other people with superpowers and what those powers are. She helps people utilize their powers, but she took off for a month when the end of the world was announced to gather people with powers that might prevent the asteroid from crashing into the earth.
“Did Mikasa tell you if she met any promising people?” Gabi asks. She’s licked her plate clean and cinnamon sticks to her lips.
Armin shakes his head, a resigned smile on his face. “Unfortunately, no. She said all the candidates she met didn’t have any sort of useful power, but who knows? Maybe she’ll meet someone on the way here that can stop the meteor.”
“Ah, it’s a meteor now?” Falco asks, sitting up in his seat.
“It’s been one for a while,” Armin says. He glances out the window for a second. It’s not blue like it was when Falco woke up this morning. It’s orange now., not like a sunrise but more like someone has set the sky on fire. “We should be able to see it soon. The estimated time of impact is soon if I recall correctly. Hopefully, we get to see Mikasa soon.” His eyebrows are knitted together in concern, but Gabi looks just as unbothered as ever.
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Gabi says. She collects her empty plate as well as Falco and Armin’s before depositing them in the sink. It’s an awfully normal thing to do considering the fact that the dirty dishes won’t matter when the earth is destroyed. She lets them soak in the sink and then turns to Armin. “Can we go see your fish now? Falco hasn’t seen them yet.”
“Sure,” Armin says with a smile. He gets up from the table and gestures for Falco to follow him. “Let’s go see the fish.”
Armin leads the children to a side room. Inside is a large glass fish tank with so many plants, shells, and rocks that Falco doesn’t see the fish at first. He and Gabi crouch beside the tank, their faces not quite touching the glass. Falco can see neon fish the size of his pinky darting back and forth between plants. He spots a miniature catfish the size of his thumb hiding behind a rock while a school of ten or so black and white striped fish zips around the 50-gallon tank. There are many more fish that Falco spots, lots of which he doesn’t know the name of but Armin patiently points them all out and tells Falco both the scientific and the common names of each fish and their habits. It’s clear that he loves it, taking care of the fish and looking after them, and Falco thinks he understands a little bit why Armin has chosen to spend the rest of the world like this. Occasionally, Gabi pipes in with whatever she remembers about each fish, usually their behavioral patterns she’s noticed when she’s visited, and Armin always grins whenever she speaks.
The three don’t notice when Mikasa arrives. They’re too busy staring at the fish swimming back and forth in the tank without a care in the world. The fish can’t grasp the fact that the world is ending. After all, their world only consists of the four glass walls that encase them and anything outside doesn’t concern them. It’s only when the door to the room opens and Mikasa steps in that the three realize that she’s returned. The fish, however, just keep swimming.
“That’s a nice way to spend the end of the world,” Mikasa comments. She has a tired smile on her face. She wears a soft cream-colored turtleneck, a long black coat hanging over her arm. “I see Gabi has joined us. As has her friend.” The woman nods at Falco.
“H-hello,” Falco stammers. He’s not sure what he was expecting Mikasa to look like. Perhaps like a woman with all the answers, someone who looked like she had seen the world, but she doesn’t. She just looks like any other woman, maybe a little more tired than other women, but still just a normal person. She doesn’t look like she has an amazing superpower, but then again neither does Gabi nor any of the potential candidates that claimed to have powers. “I’m Falco.”
“Ah, yes,” Mikasa says with a nod. “Gabi mentioned you before. I’m Mikasa, her mentor.” She drapes her coat over a nearby chair and walks over to join the three of them beside the fish tank.
“Did you find anyone?” Gabi asks. She looks out towards the living room, craning her neck to see if Mikasa had brought someone they didn’t notice.
“No, nobody that could save the world, if that’s what you’re asking,” Mikasa sighs, shoulder slumped. “Although, I did run into a guy who was convinced that the only way to save the world was to destroy it. I got away from him as quickly as possible.”
“Probably a smart decision,” Armin says with a nod, and Mikasa smiles in reply.
“Well, shall we go watch the end of the world together?” Mikasa asks, putting an arm around Gabi. She looks around at the others. “I heard it was going to be quite spectacular. Like a meteor show in the middle of the day.” Her eyes settle on Falco and her smile begins to falter. Her brows knit together and she opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something.
Armin notices the change in her demeanor and looks back and forth between Falco and Mikasa. “What’s wrong? Are you …?” It seems like something clicks in his head and he quickly turns to Falco. With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Armin asks quickly, “Falco, do you have a power you haven’t told us about?”
The question startles Falco and he jerks away from Armin’s hand in surprise. “I … I don’t know,” he says, stumbling over his words. He’s never felt like he had any kind of superpower. He’s never shown any sign of being special. He’s always just been … normal.
“You … do you not know?” Mikasa asks, her eyebrows raised. She looks at Gabi. “Falco can save the world.”
It’s too much for Falco to take in when the world is about to end so soon. He has too many questions like: What power is he supposed to have? How come he didn’t know about it before? Is there still time to save everyone or is it too late? He opens his mouth to ask, not knowing which one will come out of his mouth first, when he feels a comforting hand on his elbow. Falco looks over to see Gabi standing beside him, somehow calm despite this revelation.
“What’s his power, Mikasa?”
“He can travel back in time,” Mikasa says, still staring at Falco with her intense gaze. “Under the event of an unexpected death like, say, getting hit by an asteroid, he can go back in time and prevent it from happening. But only if he remembers that it will happen in the first place.” Her eyes flicker towards Gabi for some reason.
“What … what does that mean ‘only if I remember’?” Falco asks Gabi.
Gabi’s biting down on her lip, expression contemplative. Finally, she tells Falco, “My power is that I’m unforgettable. If you reset your time after the meteor hits, usually you won't remember what happened, but you will if I use my power. You’d be able to remember me and everything we’ve done together. If you go back in time, maybe you can find a way to save the world because you’ll know what to expect.”
“Then … then that’s good news!” He doesn’t know why everyone around him isn’t jumping up and down in excitement right now. They’ve found a way to save the world. If not this time, then the next time or the time after that. “Isn’t this good news?”
“I mean, it is,” Gabi says. She doesn’t sound as confident as she usually does. Instead, she’s hesitant, almost shy. Falco doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gabi shy before. She’s looking at the floor now, kicking at the hardwood floor with her sock-clad feet. “It’s just that … I have to make you fall in love with me to make you remember me.”
Falco’s mouth falls open and no words come out.
“It’s not like it’s hard,” Gabi says almost hurriedly, more because she’s embarrassed than in a rush to save the world. She’s shed off her embarrassment and assumed her usual confident demeanor. “I’m very lovable, you know. It’s just …” Her voice trails off again.
“She has to seal it with a kiss,” Mikasa finishes, and Falco can see why Gabi was so embarrassed. His cheeks redden just from the thought of kissing Gabi. Mikasa adds rather apologetically, “It’s just the way it works, her power. She needs to kiss you.”
“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” Gabi adds. She’s still avoiding his gaze, her eyes on the floor. “I’m fine if you’d rather not. You might just be stuck in the loop all by yourself. It’d be a little less painful since you won’t remember each time but still -”
“I’m okay with it,” Falco says.
Gabi looks up, surprised. “You are?”
“Yeah,” Falco says. “I’m … I’m fine with it. Let’s save the world. Together. That’s what our entire plan was, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah,” Gabi repeats and she smiles. It’s different from how she’s smiled at him before. It’s a little bit bashful, a little bit excited. It looks nice on her, Falco thinks, and he’s so distracted that he’s surprised when he realizes she’s holding his hand.
Mikasa tugs at the elbow of Armin’s cardigan and the blond man nods. Taking Mikasa’s hand, he turns to the kids and says, “We’ll be out there just to give you two some privacy. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again soon.”
The door shuts softly behind the two adults. Falco doesn’t know if they wait in the living room or if they’ve gone outside to admire the sky. From the window, Falco can see that the sky has changed from a burnt orange to an explosion of different colors: shades of violet, pink, blue, and yellow all together almost like a watercolor painting. There are streaks of white in the sky. It’s like a meteor shower in the middle of the day just as Mikasa had said.
When he turns to Gabi, she’s looking at him with her hand still holding his. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek, but she smiles when she sees he’s looking at her.
“Are you still up for it?” Gabi asks.
“Y-yeah,” Falco says, his voice cracking. He feels his face flush, but he likes the sound of Gabi’s giggle even if he’s the one she’s laughing at. He licks his lips nervously and leans in just the tiniest bit. “Is … is it okay if I kiss you?”
Gabi bites her lip and nods. She leans in too and Falco takes it as his cue to close his eyes and close the gap.
He doesn’t know what to expect from this kiss. Maybe warm lips pressing against his while his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. Maybe Gabi’s hands gripping his arms while his hands hover awkwardly around his waist. Maybe the world ending and, when his eyes open, Falco waking to thoughts of Gabi and how to find her next. But none of this happens. Instead, Gabi puts her hands on his shoulder and pushes him gently but firmly away.
“I can’t do it,” Gabi says.
“Wha-?”
“I can’t do it,” Gabi repeats with a shake of her head. She looks upset, but Falco doesn’t know why. He wonders what it is he did to offend her. Maybe she doesn’t want to kiss him. Maybe she finds him repulsive and doesn’t want to kiss him even if it means saving the world. Falco thinks this would be the case if Gabi didn’t look so apologetic. “I can’t kiss you. Not like this.”
“What do you mean?” Falco asks, panicked. He takes a glance at the window. Outside, the meteors in the sky look brighter. It’s like a million stars are falling to the earth. It’s only a matter of time before the world ends. He doesn’t know why Gabi is doing this.
“I don’t want to kiss you just to save the world and I don’t want you to kiss me for the same reason,” Gabi says, taking a step away from him. She shakes her head, tears pricking her eyes. “I want you to kiss me because you like me, not because you have some responsibility to save the earth so … so find me again and kiss me. Find me again and tell me you like me and kiss me hard. And then … and then we can save the world.”
But he wants to kiss her now. He wants to kiss her because he likes her. He wants to kiss her because the world is ending. He wants to kiss her even if the world isn’t ending. He wants to tell her that, but he doesn’t have the words.
Ever since Mikasa had revealed Falco’s power, everything has suddenly made sense to him. Falco understands now why his life felt so empty before he met Gabi and why he never felt the desire to do anything. He knows why he was so drawn to her when they first met that day in the city and why he felt like she completed him. It’s because they were meant to meet each other, meant to be together, meant to save the world.
Falco wants to kiss her so badly. He wants to hold Gabi’s face in his hands and put his lips on hers and kiss her until the world ends and when he wakes up again he’ll find her and kiss her again and again and again. He wants to tell her he likes her now and that he’ll like her again. He wants to tell her that he’d like her even if the world weren’t about to end, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t get to tell her anything.
A bright light flashes from the window. All Falco sees is Gabi and then white, and then nothing.
»»————- March 9, 2026 ————-««
Falco wakes up and rolls out of bed. He brushes his teeth in the bathroom and brushes out his hair before blearily heading down the stairs where his mom is making breakfast. His father hasn’t left for work yet, he notices, which is rather strange. His mother hasn’t finished making breakfast yet and his brother isn’t dressed for school. He stares at them, wondering why they’re acting so odd. It takes them a moment to realize he’s there.
“The world is ending next month,” his mother tells him. She points at the TV screen that Falco’s father is staring at. On it flashes a picture of an asteroid hurtling towards the earth. The little banner underneath the picture says it’s far too big to burn up in the atmosphere. Scientists have no hope of human survival.
“If I knew, I would have slept in,” Colt mumbles.
His family looks shocked by the news, but Falco doesn’t feel anything. He grabs a banana from the fruit bowl in the kitchen and starts to head out the door.
“Wait, where are you going?” Colt asks him.
Falco pauses by the door. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. He’s not sure what to do now that the world is ending. There isn’t anything in particular that he wants to do. “I’ll go to school, I guess.”
He leaves after assuring his parents that it’s fine, that he really doesn’t mind going to school because he isn’t sure what else to do. He stops by his mailbox and looks up at the sky. It’s clear and blue, no asteroid in sight.
He takes a deep breath and then releases it. It sounds like a sigh.
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Afraid // JJ Maybank
four - siblings querelle
Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader
Warnings: bad language (who’s surprised at this point), mention of fighting and getting beat up, mention of blood, underage drinking, mention of gun and violence, mention of drowning, mention of smoking, fear of losing sibling, mention of death, I think that’s it?? Tell me if I missed something
Description: after a rough day, y/n has fun during a kegger on the boneyard, but John B doesn’t seem to like it.
A/n: here it is! Sorry for the wait school started this week and I was really busy, but yeah, hope you enjoy!! :)
previously next
Afraid masterlist
gif by @toesure
Song recommendation
It was a couple of hours later, the sun was starting to set, creating and beautiful golden light on the boneyard. The kegger was roaring. You could see Pogues dancing around and enjoying the music, tourons flirting with locals and even some Kooks were there.
“Chug it chug it chug it.” Y/n downed her red solo cup full of beer, throwing it at JJ once it was empty, a small giggle escaping her mouth. “Yeah! You go y/n!” The blond exclaimed cheerfully.
John B shook his head disapprovingly at his sister’s action.
“what?” Y/n stared back at him. “It was a long day. Can’t I have some fun once in a while? Or is that something you can’t possibly wrap your mind around?” he crossed his arms, a stern look on his face.
“Why are you acting this way? I’m just trying, to look out for you, y/n/n.”
She grunted at his words, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Well, don’t. You can’t just boss me around JB, you’re not my dad.”
John B’s expression turned sour at the mention of his dad. “Whatever.” He turned around and started to walk away. “If you wanna act reckless and irresponsible, I don’t care. I’m not stopping you, but don’t come back to me if ever you get in trouble. I won’t be there for you.”
“Damn, he’s really mad uh?” JJ now stood by the girl’s side, holding two cups full of beer. “What did you do, stab him in the back?” she scoffed “Well, he sure acts like it, all I did was have a little fun. Ugh he’s such vibe killer.”
“Give me that,” she took one of the cup out of JJ’s hand and swallowed the content of it in a matter of seconds.
“Whoa,” he put his hand on the girl’s back “are you good?“ “I’m wonderful, couldn’t be better.” JJ frowned.
“Are you sure? You’re not acting like your usual self.” Y/N scoffed. “Just because I’m having a beer or two doesn’t mean I’m about to have a mental breakdown J. Trust me I’m alright.”
“Look I know sometimes we all drink together, and once in a while you and I smoke a joint for fun, but this-” he motioned to her, or rather the way she was acting “-this isn’t you y/n.”
The girl bit her lip harshly, as she thought of what to say next. He was right, this wasn’t her. During keggers, y/n would usually spend her nights sitting on a log by the bonfire (when there was one). She would chat with Kie and some other friends about various subjects like environmental issues, astrology and other such things.
Sometimes she would stay silent and admire the shapes that formed the fire, listening to the conversations around her whilst making up poems in her mind. Other times, when she felt a little braver, she’d go on and talk with a cute touron that was there for the night (she might end up kissing them but nothing more than that). On some nights, she’d just take Kiara’s hand and drag her away giggling like a little child. The two of them would just dance together to the music playing in the background, as if they were the only ones standing on the beach.
On rarer occasions, she’d just slip away from the party and climb to the highest place she could think of, whether it was a hill, a tree or a rooftop. She’d just sit down somewhere comfortable and silently admire the constellations dancing for her. (Sometimes she’d bring one of the pogues with her and they would play some soft music and talk about anything and everything). Those were always the best nights.
Since the beginning of the party, y/n had acted like a total stranger. She had danced, yeah but with people she didn’t know and she had drank, a lot. She had actually volunteered to participate in some stupid drinking game, a thing she had criticized many times before. JJ enjoyed it in the beginning. Watching her get out of her shell, being friendly and mixing with the crowd. But right now, he didn’t know the person standing in front of him. Y/n was soft and kind (although sometimes she used a pretty rough vocabulary) and also smart and funny. Not reckless, insensitive, spontaneous or careless.
Why was she acting this way?
Truth is, y/n didn’t completely know the reason for her behaviour. She has had a long day, that was part of it (and also a rough year). She wanted to forget for one night, yeah that was it. Forget about her dad, forget all her problems, forget who she was. It was like she put on this mask and became a totally different person for the night. She just wanted to have fun and act crazy for this one night. After that she’d go back to being her normal self. After all, she was allowed to have fun.
She wiped the small trickle of blood that ran down her lip. “You’re right,” she agreed. “This isn’t me. But I- I don’t want to be me for the night. I don’t want to worry and think about all the sad tragedies of life. I wanna have fun. I want to get drunk and dance and do some stupid things.” She looked at him directly in the eyes, her gaze softening at the sight. “ I promise that tomorrow, I’ll be me again.”
JJ removed his hand from her back and pulled gently at his blond locks. “Alright. I just hope you won’t regret it all tomorrow.” He said, before disappearing in th crowd.
What’s it all worth if I don’t regret it just a little bit? She thought.
Y/n slipped away into the crowd too, looking around her for Kie. The sun had fully set now, making it a bit harder for her to see through the mass of bodies all stuck to one another. Finally, after a long five minutes of looking (though it felt like much more), her eyes landed on her curly headed friend, sitting on a large piece of wood.
“Hey cutie.” She sat down beside the brunette. “Hey girlie.”
“How are you doing?” Asked Kie, taking a sip out of her reusable cup half full of beer (y/n actually had a matching one, but forgot it back at the château). “Oh, I’m just uh peachy, I’m just peachy.” y/n said with a small laugh, happiness dripping off her words like sweet honey.
Kie took a second to look at her friend. She had the most ridiculous grin slapped on her face, like a five year old on a sugar rush. Her cheeks were flushed pink and so was the tip of her nose. (It looked very adorable.)
“Are you drunk?” Y/n giggled. “Maybe just a little bit.”
To be honest she didn’t remember the last time she had gotten drunk. It felt so far away. She felt warm and fuzzy inside and like nothing could hurt her. Thiose were all signs that she was slowly getting more and more intoxicated by the alcohol she was drinking.
“So,” she booped the tip of Kiara’s nose. “What’s with you and my brother. Do you like him perhaps?” she wiggled her eyebrows.
“Not the way you think.” “Uh?”
“I mean, John B’s very cute and kind and all, and I love and care about him, but the same way you do. Like a brother. I don’t see him as nothing more than that.” y/n nodded.
“What about JJ?” Kiara nudged the y/h/c girl. “Did you finally tell him?”
“Are you crazy?! No! I’m not that drunk,” y/n responded loudly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me that way. He seemed so-” she took a small pause to search for the right word. “he seemed disappointed in me or something when we talked earlier.”
“Why? What makes you-”
Kiara was cut off by some shouting and screams being heard further away on the beach. A fight was about to break. She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Let’s go see.”
The girls arrived to see John B and Topper facing each other with threatening expressions, surrounded by a circle of curious people who only wanted to see them hurting the other one.
Topper Thornton? When did he get there ? And if he’s here that means that- y/n stopped her thoughts as her eyes landed on the blonde girl, watching her boyfriend with a scared look on her face. Sarah Cameron, Kook Princess.
“Dirty pogues!” John B shoved the kook harshly earning a chorus of exclaimation from the crowd gathering around them.
“Woah!” The two of them were circling each other, getting dangerously close to the water.
“John B!” Pope yelled at his friend. “We’re supposed to be incognito remember?”
“Babe, babe, babe, babe!” Sarah approached them, trying to stop her boyfriend from hitting the pogue.
Topper hit John B first, the impact sending him down in the water. Y/n quickly sobered up from the slightly intoxicated state she was in at the sight of her brother getting beat up. It was almost as if she could feel the hit on her own body.
“Guys! Guys! Chill!” Topper kicked John B right in the sides as he was trying to get up, sending him back down into the salty water.
“Hey John B, don’t make me down you like your old man, alright?!”
Y/n’s blood boiled in her veins, her face turning red with rage. She was so angry. First he had insulted her brother, and then hurt him but that wasn’t enough for him. He wasn’t satisfied. He had to mention their father. That was like putting alcohol right into a fresh wound. How could he do such a thing? At this point, y/n was basically fuming, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.
“You take that back you brainless piece of shit!” She launched herself into the fight, not caring whether she’d get hurt or not.
“Y/n, no!”
She jumped on Topper’s back, in hope of sending him down and make him stop hurting her brother anymore. She was able to strike him a couple of times right in the jaw, before he pushed her off violently, sending her flying down and hit the ground with a loud thud. She was just about to get back in the fight when two strong arms dragged her away.
“Let go of me!” She yelled, squirming to get away from Pope’s grip.
“As much as I would like to see you take him down, y/n/n,” said the Heyward boy, still holding her firmly, “John B would kill me if I didn’t stop you.”
Y/n sighed loudly and stopped trying to get away from her friend’s hold on her. She watched closely as John B pushed Topper right in the water and winced every time he got hit.
“Stop you guys!” yelled Kie.
They were both hitting each other without taking a break, making small grunts and groans at the same time. It was getting so violent, so fast. JB pushed Topper in the ocean again.
“Come on Topper! Come on!” He screamed with rage before going back into the fight.
“John B please stop!” y/n pleaded. The crowd was cheering as the fight went on, only encouraging the two teens to continue hurting one another.
Y/n gasped as John B went flying backwards into the water. They were in a much deeper part now and Topper was holding him down into the water. He was gonna drown.
“Topper! Topper, stop! No!” Sarah screamed.
“He’s gonna drown him!” Pope’s voice shaking slight in fear.
Tears were filling the Routledge girl’s eyes and sliding down her cheeks. She was no longer angry but so frightened. Her brother had his head underwater, not breathing for more than half a minute. He was gonna drown, he was gonna die too and she’d be alone, for good now. She couldn’t do it without him, no she couldn’t. She had lived all her life with him by her side, her best memories were spent with him. She couldn’t do it alone. She needed him.
“Topper, please. Let him go!” she was so desperate at this point. She was practically begging him for mercy. She didn’t even bother hiding the despair and concern in her voice. Her tears were crashing on the sand. She was breathless, panting even, the world spinning around her. It was like she was the one underwater. Like she could feel exactly what her brother was feeling.
JJ took a look at her and then at John B, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the sight of both of them. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Topper kill his best friend. He hurried to find his backpack, taking the black object he had stolen previously that day.
He held the gun against Topper’s temple, the safety releasing a clicking noise. “Yeah, you know what that is. Your move brisky!” JJ spat, his face almost purple with fury.
Y/n’s hand went to her mouth. JJ brought the gun and he was holding it at Topper’s head. She couldn’t believe it. The sight of the firearm, barely visible but still slightly glistening under the moonlight, was enough to send shivers ripple along her back. She didn’t like seeing JJ hold it this way, with so much pride in his eyes, like it brought him so much power (though it kinda did).
He wielded it as though it was something that protected him against every possible danger. Like he was invincible. It was almost sickening. He shouldn’t be this proud, this brave while holding it. It was a deadly arm, he should’ve been just as scared as she was. What if he hurted someone? Or himself? What if he killed someone? Y/n almost regurgitated the entire content of her stomach at the thought.
“JJ, no.” She had wanted to shout, but her voice came out softly, barely louder than a whisper.
People were now running away, hurrying to their car to get away from the crazy maniac with a gun. Y/n was paralyzed with fear. She wanted to move, to run and throw the stupid gun in th ocean, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground.
“JJ put the gun down!”
“Did you say something princess?” JJ turned his head to Sarah, his hands still holding the firearm against Topper’s head.
“We’re good. We’re good.” Topper let go of John B’s body, his hand raised up in surrender.
“Kie can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah spoke, making Kiara glare at her with hatred.
“John B!” y/n rushed to her brother, pushing everyone that came in her way. She didn’t care about her clothes which were getting more and more soaked with every deacons she spent in the cold waves. She offered him her hand, helping him get up and then quickly pulling him into a tight hug.
“Thank god your okay.” She let go of him.
John coughed intensely for what seemed like an eternity, the three thousand liters of water he had swallowed coming out of his mouth at the same time. Y/n looked at him worryingly, her stomach still bubbling with anxiety.
One of his eye was starting to swell, a deep red colour surrounding it. He would have to ice it if he didn’t want it to turn purple. His nose was also bleeding, the blood flowing down and dripping on his lips. Y/n wiped the blood away with her palm and pulled him in an other hug, once he had caught his breath a little more.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you,” she choked on her words, “if you didn’t make it.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, still slightly panting. “I’m alright, little bug, I’m alright. My eye might be turning blue and my body might hurt, but I’m still alive aren’t I? I’m still here.” he reassured.
Y/n let out a small smile. She was still incredibly worried for her brother. He was hurt, but he was alive, that was good. Now all she wanted was to go back home and help him take care of his wounds.
“Okay every one listen up!” y/n flinched at JJ’s voice. He was so angry, it almost scared her. “Get the hell off of our side of the island!”
He fired the gun twice in the air, the sound echoing on the almost empty beach. Y/n almost fell back in surprise, letting go of her brother at the same time. The sound was ringing in her ear, her hands trembling. Why was he doing that?
She had acted so carelessly at the beginning of the night that she became a stranger in JJ’s eyes. But now, he was the one acting crazy and stupidly. It was not uncommon for JJ to be reckless but this? No, that wasn’t him.
Who was that person standing in front of her?
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embellished lungs
Summary: Ezra buys a pretty thing for a pretty thing.
Request: hc about what renders Ezra speechless 😶 - @lose-eels (this is not even what you asked for but fuckin here ig im sorry sgkfjdshg)
Pairing: Ezra x reader
Word Count: 2.6k+
Warnings: a big fat drabble?, very really soft, not beta read and tbh barely even normal read i read this maybe twice oops
Author’s Note: i almost put this just like under the ask but I’m not gonna sit here and act like this is a drabble bc i’m a clown. i don’t want to talk about it. and spitting this out bc I was soft for Ezra and @mrpascals made me
Gif Cred: my wife and my baby @pascalplease
masterlist | taglist modifications
He spies it in the open market while he’s stocking up on supplies.
The day is hot, the Sun bearing down on its disciples with a violent red fury, but it’s light is strong, bright. Everything is reflective, hot to the touch from boiling in the heat, and all of the creatures begin to melt together like dyed wax to form one big discernable blob, if you really squint. Ezra’s sweat escapes the barrier of his brows and leaks past his lashes, dragging across his eyes and stinging a little, blurring his vision and dripping onto his arms, but he doesn’t care. He’s far too exhilarated.
The market in itself is absolutely brilliant to him; he’s always been enthralled by this, by people and pretty things, and to be completely surrounded by both felt like something akin to sensory overload. His heart is racing at the sight of people traversing the dirt road, loitering and browsing through produce colored so vibrantly he wonders if the bright red apples and deep indigo berries have been dipped in the tinted glow of fairies that dance in the forest. And he’s utterly taken by the art and trinkets. He’s always had a little soft spot for art - a tender, exposed section of his beating flesh that is so sensitive, so delicate and so easy to provoke. And right now, he seems like he’s subject to a battering ram, pounding against his chest in the best way possible.
His eyes dart around quickly as he tries his best to take everything in. He finds himself cherishing every little interaction, every stranger whose shoulder he is forced to brush in an attempt to make his way through the market, every vendor that begs to him, calls to him to try “just one last berry sir. I’m sure your lover will be delighted by the raspberries from yesterday’s harvest.” He ended up buying a quaint six ounces just so that he could feed them to you. But that would be a treat for later.
And just like that, he is thinking of you. The prettiest, most beautiful thing. A sculpture with imperfections so perfect that he knows it must have taken eons to craft you out of gold and diamonds and the soft fluff of hummingbird feathers and butterfly wings. You are art, a walking, breathing, touchable piece that he gets to admire up close. It’s a privilege, really, to have been gifted with Kevva’s finest handiwork.
As his pupils peruse the stands, admiring his surroundings, they suddenly become frozen in place, permanently stuck on a little trinket that’s caught his attention: a necklace. The gem sitting in the center isn’t aurelac; it’s much more vibrant, much more dramatic and almost rainbow when he looks at it from different angles. The chain isn’t long, and knowing you the gem would fall right between your collarbones. He can already envision you wearing it, like a child flicking watercolors onto the Venus de Milo, but he wants to see his deep green paint draped around your shoulders. The way he sees it when you wear his clothing, when you’re adorned with bruises of his passion like stars adorn the sky, when you wear him. It’s intoxicating, seeing that he’s had any impact on your life and that you parade it around like a trophy. That you think about him without him prompting you to do so - not that he isn’t constantly in your presence. But he wants to buy it just so that he can see you wear it. Perhaps even only wear it.
He’s already thinking about how fucking gorgeous you would look in it. He is thinking about putting it on you, tugging on it ever so lightly in a way that signals to you - that is, rather than exerting any true force on you - that he wants a kiss. Perhaps pulling on it a little harder so that metal bites your skin and you can feel it, feel him digging into the soft flesh of your neck. Now he’s imagined a thousand scenarios in which he can have his way with you just by getting you to wear this piece, and he has to purchase it.
When the vendor finally hands it to him, packaged with care and placed deep into the hollow of a black velvet box, he finds that it barely fits in his pocket. He doesn’t care, though, because it’s too exquisite an accessory to be thrown in with the other supplies and it’s too precious for him to take it out of the box. He’s excited when he comes back to the pod, back home where you are.
Home is you.
He assumes you must’ve heard him come in, the pod door loud and rambunctious as he dumps the bags into the center of the pod space and then crawls in himself - it was hard enough with two arms, nonetheless one. He lets out a sight as if to let the excitement drain out his vessels and into the atmosphere of the cockpit, mingling with the peace and solitude to create a soft buzz that zings through his ears and vibrates his eyes. The exhilaration from being the market was utterly electric, but he is home now. He can crawl into you, let you absorb into him, and he likes how you can make his heart race a million miles and yet also pacify him, a cold compress to his aching soul to help reduce inflammation. He wants to maintain that semblance of the intricate pastel harmony, adorned in lilac and peach hues. So he stands in the middle of the cockpit and closes his eyes, lets himself sway to the rhythm of his lungs for a moment. Just a fraction of solitude, and he doesn’t mind because ever since he met you he has never felt lonely, not even when he’s alone. He always feels you with him.
Once his head has cleared, he palms at his pocket where the little black box still resides, as if to check that he hadn’t dreamt up some fantasy ornament that would look so perfect on you. It’s still there; of course it is, and he feels foolish for thinking that the pretty butterflies would have fluttered it out and flown it away, but sometimes he wonders if the same thing will ever happen to you. If one morning he will wake up and you will have migrated with the birdies, off to seek true warmth because you’re not real, because nothing so good as you could ever be caged by him.
He steps into your shared bedroom and spies you with your back to the entrance. The room is cool, but you’ve elected to wear his shirt, even foregoing pants. His favorite outfit of yours, and he knows you know it. You’re wearing headphones, something he’d picked up for you on your last supply run, and he can tell you’re playing one of those instrumental stations you so adore listening to when you were working. A mutely-colored map is stretched out onto the desk, and he’s not even sure you can focus the music because your mind is moving faster than your poor hand can keep up as you mark up a new dig site. He almost feels bad for interrupting you while you’re in such deep concentration, your forehead smashed into wrinkles without even noticing, but Ezra cannot resist his greed for your attention. Ever so gently, he places his hand on your shoulder from behind so as not to startle you.
You almost immediately register the delicate touch, turning the radio off and pulling your headphones off your ears so you can give this kind artist your undivided attention - Kevva herself knows he's earned it. You turn your head to face him, craning your neck back so you can take his softly smiling depiction like pressing a plush blanket into your face.
“Hey, pretty boy,” you coo, letting your pen fall tumultuously from your hand. The sound of it clanging against the table and then rolling around to a stop fills the room, but you can’t hear it; Ezra is talking now.
“Hey, sweet stardust,” he greets back, voice orange and warm like the heat that simmers under the stars during the summer at midnight.
Comfortable.
“Hey” was never his preferred salutation, and he’d tried to omit it from his vocabulary for so long, but he started to notice that he likes it when you say to him. Like a little pearl of your voice, so sweet like honey with the honeycomb still mixed in, a little grainy and so cheeky.
“Did you get everything we need?” you ask, beginning to stand to that you can press a hand to his chest, grounding him to the pod and to your sanctuary soul. Ezra grins wide, unable to hide his excitement at your words.
“I in fact exceeded our needs, sweet rose bud,” he says with a pride that fills up your chest and makes you want to hold him tight because you love when he gets giddy like this, with the childlike enthusiasm of showing your parents the shitty drawing you made or your ugly macaroni art. Ezra is light, his tone airy. “I happened to spot a gem that reminded me of your vision and I couldn’t resist the urge to get it.”
You brow furrows a little, not out of confusion but out of curiosity. Ezra’s taste has always inspired you, and you knew his never ending quest for art is always in an attempt to find beauty in everything. You don’t even have to look at it to know that it will be stunning because his stamp of “pretty” approval is your gold standard.
He pulls the box out and opens it facing you so that you can get a good look, really admire it, and you are already taken by the shimmering pendant.
“Oh Ezra, it's - it’s utterly magnificent,” you gush, and he can spot that little glimmer in your eyes that you get when you’re looking at something that you’re enamored with; they way you look when you’re gazing at him. You raise your chin to look at him, his cheeks rosy with delight and sweet eyes crinkled at the corners. “Put it on me.”
It’s not so much of a demand as it is a gentle instruction; you know he wants to, know he’s been thinking about it since he bought it, and you want to be open to him. You want to invite him into your heart, inside of the flower garden of your chest, with open arms because he deserves to feel wanted.
You help him pull the chain out of the bottom of the box, keeping one end in your right hand and letting him take the clasp in his left. He wills himself to move slowly, to savor every little stimulation you send through his skin as he steps behind you. His fingers press against your clavicle, tracing along the bone before traveling up over the valley of your shoulder, tips of his hands brushing against your throat. He is feeling you, mapping out your body because he’ll never get to see an angel in his life but he’s certain you must be the spitting image.
You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and intoxicating as a small film of dampness coats your exposed back and neck. Your right hand rests at the nape of your neck, waiting expectantly, but you don’t rush him. He takes his sweet, sugary time, because the surface of your skin feels like he’s running his fingers through a field of silicone needles, firm but harmless as they stimulate a sensation he never knew he could feel before he touched you for the first time. You’re addictive, the best high he’s ever gotten, and he almost lets his hand lose all abandon and travel so carefully down the front of your body, palming your breast along the way and pressing right into your diaphragm before he keeps going down, down, down…
Almost.
But he will save it for a later time, especially since he’d been fantasizing about you wearing the necklace like a carefully chiseled bust is adorned with sashes. So finally, after what feels like hours of roaming and teasing, you feel that calloused, worn sensation of your lover’s fingers seeking solace against yours. You pin your breath to your lungs, not daring to let it go as you wait for the heavy release of his hand indicating that the necklace is secure. But even once you feel it, even as you let your right hand fall down at your side, Ezra does not take his hand off of you. You don’t want him to.
Slowly, so that he never has to cease his touch, you turn to face him. You’re still looking down at the pendant, in awe of how the gem rests so perfectly between your collarbones. You can’t see Ezra’s adoring gaze, his completely awestruck fixation on how ethereal you are to him. Like you’re emitting a golden glow, too hot to touch and yet begging, inviting his fingers to feel and press and hold.
Celestial.
He feels his emotions expand in his stomach, diaphragm threatening to spasm. His hand trails up to your chin, palming your jaw as he tenderly lifts your line of sight so that he can see your pretty eyes.
“You’re divine,” he mumbles to you, not wanting to disrupt the tight silence, so tense he’s afraid of speaking too loud lest it break and snap against his cheek leaving an angry raised brand.
Overwhelmed with appreciation, you balance your hands on his shoulders and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting it linger so you can savor the honeysuckle dew on his skin. “I love it,” you whisper with a grin.
Ezra giggles.
When you pull back to face him proper, his face is utterly red. His smile reaches the lobes of his ears, bashful and boyish like his belly has just been tickled by the sweetest of baby chicks, and he can barely get a word out. He can’t speak. His mind is in overdrive, completely inundated with a blistering adoration for you and your approval because you said you loved it. His gift is not a splash of children’s watercolors; it is a clean swipe of gold running along your jaw, accenting your beauty and emphasizing just how exquisite you are to him.
“Yeah?” he managed, a soft giggle still passing his lips like the first cries of a baby deer, the first flutters of a newly hatched butterfly.
Adorable.
You can’t resist the urge to giggle back, placing a hand at the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a true kiss on his glittery lips. It only lasts seconds, however, because Ezra can’t stop smiling and you can’t stop giggling, so you both settle for the blissful solitude of pressing your foreheads against one another, breathing in each other's air and taking up the same space.
“It’s gorgeous, Ezra. Thank you,” you whisper lightly so that the wisps of air tickle his upper lip, and suddenly he is so inclined as to press his left arm into the small of your back so that you’re so much closer and kiss you the way you deserve; a dynamic series of long, deep, searing kisses that send you to the clouds and drop you into an endless pit of lavish fluff at the same time. You don’t know how he does this, makes you feel like you don’t exist and that there isn’t anything in the world but you and him, and you often wonder if it’s because Ezra is within you, or that your broken parts and his broken parts make some hauntingly majestic sculpture of its own; something better than the fucking Venus de Milo or Athena or Great Sphinx because it should be something so hideous and yet it feels to utterly priceless to you.
It’s precious.
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LITTLE WOMEN FANFICTION
CHAPTER 2, PART 1: INVISIBLE STRING
Horizons and Sunsets
"Time, curious time, gave me no compasses, gave me no signs"
- invisible string, Taylor Swift
Concord, Massachusetts, 1868
Rays of sunshine playing on her skin. Soft grass under her fingers. Little specks of dirt scattered across her face. Leaves tangled up in her hair. It's not a common happening to be able to see yourself in such a way. A way that makes it seem like you are not you, but somebody else wearing somebody else's clothes, guarding somebody else's heart, owning somebody else's thoughts. Like you are only an observer, a background noise in your own life. These descriptions are usually used in unpleasant connotations, usually as metaphors, usually as another way of saying you feel transparent, forgotten and small. But in Jo's case, the phenomenon is not even a tiny bit metaphorical. Maybe it's the impact of the books. Maybe it's her imagination. Maybe it's just her. Whatever it is, Jo has always been able to see her life as a theatre piece, herself an audience member, her past self, no matter how far back she might travel to reach a certain memory, a performer. And Jo craves those moments of remembrance. She craves the feeling of transparency. She craves to exist less.
Everything she remembers, she remembers in flashes. Her memories do not understand concepts such as "chronology" or "order". Her brain resembles an unsolved puzzle. Every piece of information she has makes sense. But when to be put together with another aspect of her being, it does not fit. Nothing about her ever seems to fit. And now, she doesn't fit within herself.
No, Jo March is not a puzzle. Puzzle, no matter how difficult and complex, can be put together.
She's a living breathing contradiction.
What else to describe the utter ridiculousness of her mind? She is not happy and she is not sad. One second she is completely content with her life, the other, she is not. She wants to receive love, love and love, but she is afraid to offer it.
When Josephine March loves someone, she does not tell them. She does show, but never tells. She never uses the famous simple phrase. Never not once.
Her best friend burns for the people he loves. Jo burns for them in secret.
And here, as she is seeing herself splattered in sunlight, Jo March is preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.
One is chasing ghosts.
Other is rearranging thoughts,
Final is accepting sunsets.
***
Paris, France, 1868
Theodore (yes, he is "Theodore" now) is not exactly sure where he is or how did he get there. His vision is blurry and his body feels heavier than usual. What is fascinating about his situation is the fact that consuming certain "substances", (and substances being of alcoholic nature), were supposed to prevail him from feeling like this. From feeling the way he's been feeling his entire life. Like everything around him was frozen and he was the only one moving. He was just too fast, too warm, too different. Enormous in emotion, reckless in thought. All of this often led to conclusions too horrific to comprehend, so he tried to avoid thinking.
The thought of having too many emotions might be terrifying. But the thought of having too much love for everything and everyone but himself was rather paralyzing. It was ridiculous to expect anybody to feel with as much passion as he did. It was ridiculous to demand such a thing from people. Why would anyone put all of their energy into someone else when there were so many things to be done in the world? But those other things rarely sparked an interest in him. Adventures, boarding schools, trips and experiences seemed irrelevant and hollow unless they were intended to be shared. It's funny how he always craved the one thing he never had. And when he finally got a glance of the love he so desperately wanted, he lost it because of his stupid absurd annoying emotions.
When Theodore Laurence loves someone he does not tell them. He screams it until his lungs are on fire.
His best friend loves with her whole entire heart. He loves with his whole entire being.
And now, vision blurry and body heavy, Theodore Laurence finds himself preoccupied with three actions of extraordinary importance.
One is chasing ghosts.
Other is rearranging thoughts,
Final is accepting sunsets.
***
Concord, Massachusetts, 1862
Step one: chasing ghosts
Sand beneath her bare feet. Water. Silent whispers of the sea. Birds. Colors. Nothing. Everything. Oh, to be crafted in such a way to believe you shall always be sixteen and silly and reckless and real. That is how Jo feels right now. Real. Right here, observing, enjoying, doing nothing but existing. And the sea! So mystical and wide, appearing endless in its presence, it looks like something in possession of a dream rather than this time and place. And the best part of this? Her family. They all resemble a painting in their natural messiness. Amy with her hair half wet, positioned in a way she believes to be ladylike, smiling at the horizon, sketchbook in hand. Meg, holding her hat so that it doesn't leave her in its desperate wish to follow the wind, shoes untied, eyes glistening from laughter she experienced seconds before. Beth, oh sweet Beth, kneeling by the water, touching the shining surface, mouth moving as though she is singing to the sea itself. Teddy is by her side, like he always is, sitting with his eyes closed, head held high up to the sky. He would probably refer to his current position as a way to "suck out all the marrow out of life", which always sounded a bit inappropriate coming from his mouth, but Jo loved the symbolism of the phrase, so she decided to put her friend's foolishness to the side.
"Isn't it simply ethereal, dearest Teddy?"
"Yes, I did indeed think my face had a particular glow to it this morning, your kind remark is very well appreciated, Miss March" came a teasing response shortly followed by a light smack to the arm (because Jo, being an experienced bookworm, always had a book weapon down her sleeve).
"Oh Teddy, you're such a boy sometimes. I find it quite disappointing really." said Jo being perfectly aware of the effect the comment might cause. Teddy shot her a look of a supposedly hurt individual, put a hand over his heart and exhaled loudly, as though he was a character in a Shakespearean tragedy. Jo rolled her eyes at the glamorous gesture, but pretty quickly, her features were changed with a thoughtful expression. She turned her head to Teddy timelines after, only to be greeted with a no longer playful, but a reassuring smile. He knew her too well.
"You know, it doesn't make it any less beautiful. The fact that it's all going to end one day, I mean. Quite the opposite actually."
She does not answer that. She gets up from the ground and extends her hand to him.
"If it's going to end, we might as well suck all of the existing marrow out of it."
"Oh, what a wonderful choice of words, dearest Jo!" he exclaims theatrically while gladly accepting her hand
"Oh, what a wonderful life, dearest Teddy."
And with that, they run to the sea, their lungs almost too full, smiles almost too big. Spirits almost too free.
Childhood is a thing of dreams.
Concord, Massachusetts, 1863
Step two: rearranging thoughts
Trousers under skirts. It's scandalous. Scandalous and inappropriate. At least that's what society will label it as. And society loves labels. But Laurie finds a solace of sorts in his friend's choice of clothes. He isn't sure how to explain it (he is not as good with words as Jo is), but it's comforting to see someone be so unapologetically themselves, whoever that person might be. He tells her this one day because he's Laurie and he isn't familiar with the concept of "silencing your emotions".
"Teddy, don't flatter, I told you I do not enjoy nor support such doings. You might as well go practice your gentlemanly manners on Amy, I'm sure she will accept your words of so called admiration with much more enthusiasm than yours truly." says Jo, her voice a tiny bit too loud, her thoughts meeting the outside world in grave speed. Laurie often finds himself wondering how one speaks with so much passion and rush, it's like Jo's sentences are running instead of flowing. She shares her mind without looking at him, her hands busy with rearranging the dining table previously covered with Amy's unfinished drawings and Beth's beloved dolls.
"I meant what I said, Jo. But since you believe I'm incapable of offering sincerity, I shall escort myself out."
He gets up from the place he was sitting at and rushes out of the March house, leaving his waistcoat behind him. Jo knows better than to follow him right away. She will bring him the forgotten object later, once he's ready to start unravelling burdens.
***
Night.
Light.
These two nouns aren't supposed to get along very well, yet here we are. Jo finds herself awake in the middle of the night, which circumstance she is no stranger to, but this time it is not her restless mind that steals her from the arms of dreamland. It's light. Jo gets up, careful not to make a noise, and looks out the window to further investigate the strange occurring. And the sight her eyes are met with is a sight so undoubtedly Teddy-like that she isn't sure if she will be able to forgive herself for not coming up with such a conclusion sooner. The house of her neighbour, who happens to be her dearest friend, is shining with what she presumes is light of about two dozen candles. The scene would've been inspiring, if not captivating, especially for a person of her making, but Jo knows Teddy and this cannot mean anything pleasant. Therefore, she decides to pay her fellow pirate a visit, armed with a forgotten piece of clothing as a faithful enough excuse.
Proud of herself for avoiding all the obstacles successfully (and the obstacles being sleeping family members who have yet to be introduced to the pleasures such as "sleepless nights" or "windows"), Jo runs to the construction once known as a house, now as a gothic castle and knocks. Her efforts are answered with a voice of not a person, but a peculiarly human like ghost.
"Who is it?"
"Do you really think I will dare share information of an importance so big, oh so grand, without seeing your face, kind sir?" says not Jo, but a righteous, noble knight, his devotion as admirable as amusing.
Laurie opens the door only to be met with a grinning Jo.
"I believe you have forgotten this, my friend."
exclaims an unlike lady, kneels down and offers him his waistcoat in a way so grandiose, some might think she actually was a knight in shining armor, sharing sunlight, providing hope.
"Don't be a goose Jo" came a gentlemanly response followed by an annoyed sound and indifferent expression. Laurie turns around, but leaves the door wide open. Jo, understanding the message quite well, follows him inside to a candle lit room. Laurie approaches the piano and sits down as though he is about to start playing the instrument, but he doesn't confirm the logical assumption. Instead, he closes his eyes and remains like that for what feels like eternity, looking like a human statue. It would've been comical if it were anybody else, but Jo was familiar with Teddy's passion for extravagance. His behaviour does not spark laughter, but concern.
"Teddy, I think you should start explaining whatever it is you need to explain. Keeping it in won't do anybody any good despite you believing it will. I promise, you won't be a burden."
Laurie shifts in his position and exhales loudly, his eyes still closed. When he starts to speak, his voice is not his. It's distant and decorated with occasional trembles which he is desperately trying to avoid.
"When I told you today how I find solace in the way you carry yourself and how you wear trousers and don't care about what people think of you, I wasn't trying to mess around or anything. Sometimes... Sometimes I feel like I am not me... Like I'm not a good match for myself and I..." he opens his eyes at that, not sure if he wants to receive a response to any of the things he has just said.
"I am deeply sorry Jo, this doesn't make any sense, you can go, I don't know what came of me."
"Oh Teddy, but it does make sense! It makes so, so much sense." Jo doesn't say that like she wants to comfort him. She really seems to mean it. Their gazes meet at the exact same time, their eyes glossy (which observation they will both dismiss in immense respect to one another), their faces now beautified with soft smiles.
"You do realize you are wearing a night gown right?"
"I am not the one randomly lighting up candles, impersonating ghosts now, am I?"
"It's called dramatic effect, Jo! Dramatic effect! And keep the waistcoat, I never really liked it anyways."
***
After that day, Jo and Laurie's closets were left grieving for lost members of their separate societies. Blouses, neckties and waistcoats were introduced to the idea of travel and adventure. And even though the closets were left in grief, their owners were more than satisfied with the not so sudden change.
#turns out this chapter is too long😅#posting it in two parts#idk if anybody will like this one#it's ment to show how jo/laurie ultimately wouldn't work together#they only work in one timeline#and that timeline is childhood#little women 2019#little women#my writing#fanfiction#jo march#jo x laurie#laurie laurence#amy march#beth march#amy × laurie#meg march#the childhood scenes are actually memories#so they're told through adult perspective#there will be a chapter exploring jo and laurie's childhood days in a lighthearted manner#taylor swift#evermore#folklore
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Okay. Somebody Asked. @shoujobell and @cryptidaicat, y’all encouraged this. I’m gonna tag this #long post if you wanna filter.
So here. I got the urge to write and so I ranked the Fruits Basket couples from my favorite to least favorite. These aren’t my complete thoughts because I could honestly do multiple full meta posts on each pairing, but I tried to justify and explain all my choices. Standard disclaimer, this is subjective and we can agree to disagree.
Part 1: Just the reasonably popular ones
1. Kyoru: Someone’s gonna call me unoriginal for this but it’s fine. Kyoru is the main romance of Fruits Basket! They bring out the best in each other and build each other up as characters. Kyoru is basically my gold standard take on Sunshine Girl x Grouchy Dude, and I’m not even usually into that trope otherwise. Their romance is one of the few that feels so genuinely necessary to the story. They love each other and like each other. Kyo understands Tohru in a way no one else in the narrative does, and vice versa. They’re in love like soulmates and also like awkward teenagers. Kyoru invented romance. If it’s boring to like healthy romances with realistic development, I’ll be boring.
2. Tohrin: If Tohru didn’t end up with Kyo I would only want her to be with Rin. I guess they have some of the same appeal as Kyoru for me - Rin reads Tohru in a way a lot of people don’t. I also like how honest and raw they are with each other. They yell! They fight! Rin is down to just straight up knock Tohru over to keep her from rushing off. Also, they’re both absolute fashion icons. Goth x Prep rights. I firmly believe Tohru Honda is bisexual.
3. Yukeru: This is my favorite Yuki pairing. I followed @yunsoh way back when the reboot first started and her blog has got me absolutely hooked on Yukeru. I think Yuki’s arc would have just made a ridiculous amount of sense if he was gay. It screams comphet. Kakeru is an excellent complement to Yuki, and their bond feels incredibly natural. Honestly I feel like it’s the most organic romantic development outside of Kyoru. I think realistically they wouldn’t have gotten together until post-canon and frankly Yuki shines in his friendships much more than romances, so I’m not absolutely dying for them to be together, but if Yuki’s going to date anyone Kakeru is my pick.
4. Arisaki: Man... I just like them. They strike me as less of an epic love and more of a comfortable partnership. I also read them both as lesbians anyway lol. Honestly I think they both had feelings for Tohru at one point and bonded over it. The way I picture them happening is honestly just Arisa at 25 frantically googling “is it gay to hold hands with my girl roommate who I spend all my time with and also we never date men“ because Saki bought them rings that look like wedding bands but they could just be super close friendship rings and oh god she’s in too deep. They’re dating for four years before they notice.
5. AyaMine: But Jessie! You literally never post about this pairing! Yeah, you’re right. I never think about them actively. But when ranking the canon ships I realized that I like the two of them together because they’re chill and understated. They’re huge loud personalities on their own but as a couple, they just feel like two people who are happy together and like spending time with one another. No drama, no mess, very understated. No plot contrivances driving their relationship. Good for them.
6. YukiKyo: Okay, so I can be convinced to put on my YukiKyo goggles more often than not. It feels iffy because there’s debate about how closely related all the Sohmas are and these two are called “cousins” a lot in school, but since half of the Sohmas are dating each other anyway, I err on the side of them being more of a clan than a proper blood family. Anyway, YukiKyo is my designated angst fuel. I think it would realistically be pretty one-sided from Yuki’s side, since we see him wanting Kyo’s approval from a very young age, but I like exploring the what-ifs of their lives if they’d been friends instead of rivals. In canon, I like to think that after high school they’re not best friends in the traditional sense, but either one could show up with a dead body and the other would help them bury it, no questions asked.
7. Yuchi: Really? Yuki’s wife is my third favorite pairing for him? Look, I adore Machi, and I still like Yuchi. But as I’ve been watching the reboot and reading others’ metas, I think I agree that their relationship could have been very powerful as a platonic one, sort of running parallel to Yuki and Tohru. I like them together but I think there wasn’t quite time for a complete character arc for Machi and her growth sort of begins and ends with Yuki. I don’t object to them being a couple in canon and I think they’re genuinely very sweet, but once again, I think Yuki stands out in his friendships more than anything. I would have liked to see Machi strike out on her own a little more.
8. Haru x Yuki: I don’t have any particular feelings towards them but I love their dynamic already and I think as a couple they’d both be really easygoing and comfortable with each other. I think a childhood crush turned close friendship is honestly the narrative that works best for them so I have no need for the two to date canonically, but every time they interact in the anime it gets a laugh out of me. They’re cool. They’d make a very pretty pair.
9. Mayutori: I’m Mayutori-neutral. I think they suffer from Fruits Basket’s pair the spare syndrome, but out of the side pairings that don’t have too much impact, they’re one I enjoy. Mayu’s fun as a character, and painfully relatable, and I like that Hatori’s eventual romance isn’t with someone who reminds him of Kana or something like that. I also want good things for Hatori. Mayutori has serious heterosexual energy though. I’m not saying this as a pro or con, they’re just very straight.
10. Hatsuzu: Okay, Haru and Rin aren’t this far down because I hate them. I’m perfectly fine with them being together in canon. But I think their romance almost... functions better as individual motivation for their character arcs than it does as an actual relationship, if that makes sense? Rin’s backstory episode is heartbreaking and her motivation to protect Haru is compelling and sympathetic, but their actual scenes together just don’t move me that much. Their romance is the least interesting part of either character for me.
11. Hiro x Kisa: Yeah I never got into it that much. It’s cute, it’s a sweet depiction of childhood crushes, but I’m not a fan of the idea of them ending up together. Kisa’s a cutie and Hiro is entertaining but the two of them together don’t actually do much for me. The dynamic between them is almost like if someone did Kyoru with none of the nuance. Ultimately though, they’re kids. I don’t expect them to have a deep and complex romance.
12. Yukiru: I think it would be a disservice to their characters if they were a couple. People far more eloquent than me have already written plenty of meta on why Yuki and Tohru aren’t what the other needs romantically, so I won’t get into it, but basically I just think their canon friendship is so beautiful and meaningful that I wouldn’t want to change it. Yuki and Tohru support my thesis that not all soulmates are romantic.
13. Tohru x Momiji: Welcome to the subjective dislike corner! This pairing is reasonably popular among people theorizing who Tohru would be with if not Kyo, but for some reason it just sits poorly with me. I can’t rank it any lower because there’s nothing evil or morally wrong about it! I just really don’t like it. I’ve quit a few fics because this pairing came up and I just can’t enjoy it.
14. Kakeru x Komaki: Idk, I just think Kakeru latching onto the one girl who was nice to him and put up with his bullshit and then being with her forever isn’t compelling. Komaki’s also probably his beard. She’s likable as an individual though.
15. Akigure: There’s plenty to say about the age gap, Shigure being in love with Akito since she was a fetus because of The Dream, the implications of a 15-18 year old knowing he’d one day want to be with a then-10-year-old... yeah, you get it. But even if I was able to put all that aside because Soulmate Destiny Logic, I still don’t think I’d like Akigure. I think they’re interesting as bitter, codependent exes, but I don’t like the idea of Akito ending up with anyone who she abused or who abused her. I think she has so much growing to do as a character and staying in a relationship within the Sohma family to do it can’t be healthy for her. I can’t see them living happily ever after, nor do I really want to.
16. Kurisa: I think what frustrates me the most here is that I want to like Kureno and everything about this romance is written to dull his most interesting traits. First of all, the age gap. Yeah, it’s gross, I don’t like it. But even past that, the love at first sight, instant fixation with each other, and lack of actual chemistry just kills me. Arisa’s stated reason to like Kureno is that he reminds her of Tohru, basically piggybacking off the chemistry she and Tohru already have, and his total lack of agency means the plot just sort of carries him along. It frustrates me that Takaya could have done something pretty cool by making them simply friends who have a chance encounter and then build a friendship from there that parallels Kureno’s abusive dynamic with Akito. It would be neat if a stranger’s kindness was the push Kureno needed to get himself out of the Sohmas’ grasp, without all the nonsensical drama about them being in love. It would also be less of a disservice to Arisa, who basically just spends the whole series pining for Kureno after they meet and I hate it. I could write a whole post about this. Maybe I will sometime.
17. Kyoko x Katsuya: I don’t think their story is romantic. I think it’s tragic for Kyoko, and if it were framed that way within the narrative, I wouldn’t object so much to its existence. But... Takaya just really likes age gaps with a younger woman and an older man, so the narrative romanticizes this man marrying his student. Katsuya can be depicted as well-meaning as you want, but he’s still got a ridiculous amount of power over Kyoko. She was also still pretty young when she had Tohru, which doesn’t make things any better because it’s clear that the relationship turned physical when Kyoko was a teen, thus dashing the idea of Katsuya legally marrying her to save her but not actually doing anything creepy. I wish Fruits Basket framed this as a story of Kyoko escaping one dangerous situation by entering a relationship with a huge power imbalance, because that happens to girls all the time and it’s tragic and compelling. The events of the story could stay the exact same and if the framing changed I would be fine with it. But this is not that. This is just a really romanticized teacher/student age gap. I’m not into it.
Part 2: Rarepairs, weird shit, and others (oh my!)
1. Yuki x Kakeru x Kimi: OT3. I’m enamored with the idea of this hot mess polycule.
2. Momiji x Kimi: Chaos meets chaos. This couple would say uwu without any irony and also steal your car keys. They’re both perceptive and smart hidden under a layer of cute and I’d wanna watch them play 4D chess with each other.
3. Kazuma x Kunimitsu: Idk how old Kunimitsu is so if he’s like 20, strike this one from the record. But I saw one post once that was like Kyo slowly realizing Kazuma and Kunimitsu were gay and had been dating for years and it was funny as hell.
4. AyaTori: It’s cute. Opposites attract, black and white hair, and Aya only listens to Hatori anyway. It’s just fun to think about.
5. Megumi x Hiro: They don’t interact in canon I just think Goth x Punk-Ass Bitch is a great concept.
6. Motoko x Nao: They’re both loud as hell and Nao having a gf that towers over him is funny. Maybe Yuki would finally get some peace.
7. Machi x Kimi: I don’t see them actually being compatible in canon but I think they could have a really homoerotic college friendship.
8. Hajime x Mutsuki: This is just YukiKyo, the non angst version.
9. Akito x Hanajima: I’m so wary of shipping Akito with anyone but this is kind of fun. The two are friends in canon and Hana isn’t remotely afraid of Akito. Plus Akito never abused Hana. I can sort of see it.
10. Hiroshi x Yusuke: Makes no sense, wouldn’t be relevant, but if those two just never spent any time apart and continued being a pair for life it would be a really good bit.
11. Akitohru: I don’t think it’s healthy to date anyone who’s previously stabbed you.
12. Kazuma x Hanajima: Stop. Go to jail. Hana’s one-sided crush is funny though.
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What Every Parent Needs to Know About Child Sex Trafficking
For most police officers, this scene is a familiar one—a young kid gets mixed up with the wrong person and finds him or herself on the wrong side of the law.
In virtually every case, this would be the end of the story. The young girl would get a slap on the wrist and be released into her parents’ custody where they could, presumably, set her straight.
And, at this point in our story, Officer Scott was prepared to do just that—to trust the overwhelming testimony of prior experience and process this girl out so that he could get on with his shift.
But, something was different this time…
Discerning the SignsAs Officer Scott sits down to file his paperwork, he’s reminded of last Tuesday’s roll call. His Sergeant, having recently attended a training seminar on human trafficking, used that day to teach his officers how to identify potential trafficking situations.
All of a sudden, alarm bells start going off in Scott’s mind:
The Fear — Sure, a kid’s going to be afraid of the consequences. But, this girl seems to fear for her physical safety. She’s acting like there’s something worse waiting for her than an angry mom and dad at home.
The Stolen Merchandise – Why did she need a Red Bull and a pack of condoms? Scott recalled that traffickers use starvation to control their victims. Usually, their only choice is to steal the bare necessities.
The Boyfriend – Per the owner’s description, this guy was at least 10 years older than she. What were they doing there together in the first place?
A New ApproachWith these things in mind, Scott calmly invites the young lady out of holding and brings her to a quieter part of the station, away from prying eyes and menacing glances.
She looks cold, so Scott hands her a sweatshirt. As he does, he notices a small tattoo of a crown with the name ‘Hugo’ scrawled beneath it—likely a brand to show who ‘she belongs to.’
They start to chat. This time, he speaks less like a cop and more like a friend.
Clearly, she hasn’t had anything to eat for quite a while. Moments later, a female officer appears with a bag from McDonald’s. The three make their way to a private lounge. As they talk, the girl lets her guard down. Scott listens as she describes her broken home life, struggles with friends at school, and her constant search for belonging.
All the while, her phone continues to buzz.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yes. He just wants to make sure I’m ok.”
He really is a great guy, she explains. He’s been there for her when her parents weren’t. He shows her the affection and attention she needs. She feels protected. He loves her……only, sometimes he makes her do things—things she would ordinarily never do.
TrustHaving earned at least a glimmer of trust, Scott asks if she would slide her phone over. Reluctantly, she does, and he begins to scroll through the text messages.
Wisely, Scott checks his emotions before he begins to read. It doesn’t take him long to realize these are not the supportive words of a loving boyfriend. No, they’re the verbal assaults of a degenerate thug bent on belittling her into submission. Scott does his best to hide his disgust as he reads about threatened consequences for ‘missed quotas.’ Horrified, he sees insults that no human being should ever have to endure, capped off by threats against her little sister for talking to the cops.
Officer Scott thanks the young woman for her trust and politely excuses himself to make a call. He can read the writing on the wall: this girl is clearly a victim of trafficking. She needs someone with much more experience than him to help regain her freedom.
He picks up the phone, dials his Sergeant, and together, they get to work.
What Made the Difference?This story, though generalized in some ways, is rooted in the accounts we hear from police officers every day. The first part of the story is common enough. But, what about the second when, in Scott’s eyes, the girl goes from ‘shoplifter’ to ‘trafficking victim’?
Not so much.
So, how do we get from A to B? How do we help police officers learn
to look at each ‘punk kid’ as a potential victim, to ask deeper questions, and find the real story lies beneath the surface?
Just as in Officer Scott’s story, that turning point comes when an officer recognizes the signs, trusts his or her gut, and decides to unravel that thread. It all starts with that one officer—a soldier on the front lines of the underground battle to set captives free.
This can only happen when officials at every level of law enforcement learn to detect the signs and receive the tools they need to bring trafficking victims out of the cruel darkness and into the liberating light of day.
National Human Trafficking Law Enforcement Training ProgramAt ERASE, one of the most impactful things we do is train police departments so that they produce more officers like the one in this story. It’s our mission to educate officers to detect the warning signs, identify potential victims, and safely lead them to freedom. Your donations make this possible.
Source
Child Sex Trafficking-Not My Child
Mom shakes her head and Dad raises his voice. Their 16-year old daughter storms up the stairs. As the bedroom door slams, she collapses on the bed with phone in hand. She’s ready to vent her frustrations one status update at a time.
With every angst-laden tap of the keyboard, she lays bare her soul:
“Nobody here gets me.” “No one understands!” “I feel unloved.”
📷An hour later, a boy from the next town over reaches out. She doesn’t know him, but they’ve got a few mutual friends, so it’s probably no big deal. He’s cute and thoughtful. And, he seems to understand what she’s going through better than anyone else.
For the next two weeks, they exchange messages every day. He’s sweet, a digital shoulder to cry on when nobody else seems to care. They decide to meet up in person, so she borrows Dad’s car “to meet some friends at the mall.”
That night, Daddy’s little girl doesn’t come home for dinner and Mom sits up all night. The next morning, they call the police. An officer searches her computer and finds evidence of the girl’s new relationship. Turns out, the boy she thought she knew didn’t exist.
And, just like that, she’s gone.Reality check about child sex trafficking
At ERASE, we hear heartbreaking tales like this all too frequently. Stories from average families dealing with everyday stresses when out of nowhere, their child is lured right out from under them.
Whenever we tell these stories, the most common response goes something like this:
“Child trafficking is something that happens to those types of kids out there. We live in a great community and our neighbors are good people who look out for one another. Something like that could never happen to one of my children.”
This is the kind of response that makes us cringe. If only parents knew what we know, they wouldn’t be so quick to ignore this real and pervasive threat. Sadly, that very ignorance is what traffickers count on most when looking for children to target.
The danger is far more imminent than most parents recognize. If we’re going to protect our children, we need to be clear on the real threats child traffickers impose.
Traffickers are Smart, Motivated, and Tech-SavvyA dark and horrific market has grown up around the purchase and sale of human beings. Researchers estimated that, in 2007, Atlanta’s underground sex economy alone brought in $290 million. Even in a far less “saturated” market, sex trafficking in San Diego enables a pimp to pull in over $11,000 per week.
Fast forward 10 years and there’s no reason to think that number hasn’t grown.
Innocent children aren’t given a pass here. Instead, the most vulnerable among us are routinely bought and sold like property—many of them up to 15 times a day. With business booming, traffickers are working harder than ever to keep up with demand. Leaving no stone unturned, they use social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, to research, target, and groom children for sexual exploitation. In fact, 77% of sex trafficking victims
report having been initially approached online.
Just as a skilled marketer uses sophisticated keyword searches to identify his audience, traffickers monitor social media for anything at all that would suggest an easy target:Children with social media profiles open to public viewing
Teenagers posting introspective status updates about feelings of insecurity
Boys and girls who are venting about arguments with their parents
Like a lion crouched in his thicket, a predator will scan through lines of text looking for vulnerable children to drag off into the tall grass. How many of those lines will have come from one of your children?
Yes, your child can be a victim of sex traffickingThe children that traffickers rip from their happy homes aren’t pretend characters on television or disembodied faces from the evening news. They’re our kids, the ones we work hard to raise and the ones we hope to see grow up happy and healthy.
They’re the kids we teach to be smart, to mind their surroundings, and never talk to strangers. And yet, we give them free reign to explore every dark corner of the internet via their cell phone.
We must do betterLittle more than half of parents closely monitor their children’s online activity. So, when a stranger asks to connect on Snapchat, it’s nearly an even shot that no one will be looking over that kid’s shoulder. You can count on a child trafficker to take that bet.
Do you know which platforms your children are using or who they connect with online? Do they have any secret accounts and how would you find out if they did? If someone asked to meet in person, would they do it? Can you be sure?
These questions may seem intrusive and even overbearing. However, considering the reality of child trafficking in the United States, we have to ask these questions. Every day, thousands of children disappear into slavery. We’d like to hope our kids could never be victims but the facts simply don’t allow us that option. Understanding the facts of child trafficking is the first and most important step in prevention.
There is HopeGood people around the world are standing up and fighting back against this great moral evil. You don’t have to live in constant fear for your children. The story we shared at the beginning of this post doesn’t have to be your story. And with some common sense and the will to step intentionally into your kids’ digital lives, you can protect them from becoming a victim of sex trafficking.
The question is: will you? At ERASE, we want to educate parents on how best to protect their children from online predators. Please take a look at our tips and best practices pages to see how you can teach your children to be safe online.Juvenile Delinquent or Victim of Human Trafficking?
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Story of a Human Trafficking Victim
It’s midnight. Officer Scott pulls his patrol car into the lot of a small, 24-hour convenience store. As he approaches, he peers through the decal-laden glass door to see a middle-aged man struggling to restrain an agitated 16-year old girl. The store owner had caught this young woman and her boyfriend stuffing items into a small handbag. Her companion—a ‘white man in his late 20’s’—had bolted out the door without so much as a backward glance. The last thing on Officer Scott’s mind was “human trafficking victim”.
Scott had seen this before. Some young teenager, looking for thrills, decides to pocket a few items from the local bodega and gets grabbed by the watchful owner.
As he escorts the girl to his police car, Scott’s treated to an earful. She can’t stop going on about what a jerk he is, how he had violated her rights, and how much trouble she’d be in if he didn’t let her go right away. “Just wait until I call your parents,” he thinks.
📷
The Same Routine When they arrive at the station, Scott walks this young woman to his desk. She can hear the snide remarks of a few men handcuffed to chairs nearby. As they leer conspicuously at her, she shrinks further into herself. Scott starts in on his typical line of questioning: name,
age, address, and so on. The entire time, her phone buzzes with one text message after another. She begs Scott to let her reply, but he refuses. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk to your parents later.”
“I’m not worried about them,” she snaps back. “They don’t give a crap about me, anyway. They’re too busy arguing to even notice I’m around.”
Not sure what to make of that outburst, Scott begins to sort through the items she had attempted to steal: a sleeve of Hostess Cup Cakes, a Red Bull, and a box of condoms.
“Must be one heck of a boyfriend to leave you there like that, huh?”
“You wouldn’t understand. He loves me. He takes care of me.”
Angry and frustrated by this girl’s bad attitude and ignorance about that poor excuse for a boyfriend, Officer Scott escorts her to a holding cell and prepares to process her out.Is This the End of the Story?
https://whateveryparentshouldknowaboutcps.blogspot.com/2020/08/what-every-parent-needs-to-know-about.html
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The Conversations - part 3/3
Characters: Hoseok, Taehyung
Wordcount: 2.2k words
Genre: slice of life, discussion of NSFW topics, conversation
Rating: suggested 18+
Hello readers! I’m back and I bear gifts!
This is the final installment for The Conversations. In this piece Tae and Hobi discuss their relationships with their girlfriend, Lace -- Tae’s gf -- and Giggles -- Hobi’s --, sharing some spicy details and offering each other advice. Since I consider them the “freakiest” among the guys, do expect some TMI.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: so much BDSM I had to read a handbook, impact play and dedicated objects, bondage and restrictions, themes of domination and submission, use of safeword and mentions of subspace. Voyeurism and exhibitionism, adult clubs and dungeons, public sex, masturbation and oral sex. Blindfold, powerplay, roleplay. Mentions of a sextape... :’) (also hints of a possibly angsty Namjoon future fic, I had to.)
Wordcount: 2.2k
And here is my masterlist :)
Enjoy!
“Hey hyung, sorry for last night.” Taehyung said, sitting beside Hoseok at the lunch table in the common room.
“It’s okay, no biggie.” Hoseok already had a bright smile on, warm and honestly unbothered by the event.
“I didn’t knew Giggles was at your’s.” Taehyung opened his lunch, starting to analyse the various boxes and cups.
“Yeah,” Hobi’s ears turned reddish. “It was a surprise for me too.”
“How is it going?” Tae cheered as he found the main course. Beside him Hoseok stirred his noodles.
“It’s great. She’s fantastic. How about Lace?”
“She’s doing great. We’re doing great.” Taehyung looked around a little to see if anyone could possibly overhear. “We experimented with a riding crop. Best decision of my life.”
Hoseok laughed out loud, smashing his free hand enthusiastically against the table. “Glad to know. Giggles prefers the paddle. Or my hands. But yeah, Lace gives crop vibes.”
“She’s a huge freak.” Tae took some kimchi, mixing it with his rice. His mouth still half full, he muttered. “But I guess I am, too.”
“As long as she likes that there’s nothing wrong.” He too took a bite of his own food. “Wanna share?”
“What? No.” Tae filled his mouth some more. “I mean, I have to ask Lace first.”
“I mean the food, you pervert.” Hoseok bent over his dish, “though I guess nor Lace nor Giggles would oppose.”
“God, Lace is such an exhibitionist.” Tae said, motioning to his side dish and inviting Hobi to take what he liked.
Hobi also put his smaller boxes in the middle. “And you’re a voyeur, which works just fine.”
“Match made in heaven. Does Giggles like it too?”
“She likes it enough. But, she’s not that visual. She prefers focusing on other senses.”
“I kinda reckoned.” Taehyung remembered the previous night, when he’d endlessly knocked on Hobi’s apartment door only to have his hyung come to the door half undressed, faux leather pants on, his forehead sweaty. Behind him, Tae could recognise a woman -- well, Giggles -- fully naked, sitting on a chair, wearing nothing but a blindfold. And several feet of rope.
“Freak.” Deadpanned Hoseok.
“What about you, freak?” Tae also stirred his noodles, enjoying the steam coming from them together with the heavy smell of soy sauce and fried peppers.
“Do you want me to say I enjoy having her at my mercy, nothing but a blabbering mess, incapable of getting away or understanding what’s going to happen to her?” Hoseok was overly descriptive on that. “Because yes, I do.”
“So not only blindfolded but also tied up?”
“If she’s not behaving, then yes.” Hoseok suddenly looked stern.
“I bet she doesn’t behave much.”
“At all.” Hoseok smirked. “I think I should change her punishment to something she enjoys less.”
“Lace hates not touching me.” Tae fits a huge meat roll in his mouth.
“Giggles is not bothered, as long as I’m touching her. She needs to feel some sort of an anchor, a safety line, so to say.”
“Well, I’d need one too if I were tied up and in the dark.” His mind wandered back to one of his first times with Lace, when he’d let her cover his eyes with a thick silk scarf tied behind his head, his body at her mercy, as she observed him and touched him without him knowing where she’d land her attack, without his intense gaze following her every movement and making her flustered. She had confessed feeling free, unjudged. Not that he would ever judge her, but he knew that he would feel conscious too if he were the one in the spotlight, were the roles to be reversed. He knew he would feel freer without his lover looking at him, analysing where his attention gravitated. But this happened at the beginning, when they were still learning. Now their most pressing need is watching each other.
“Well. Once it got bad. She got into subspace. Only time she used her safeword. That’s why we don’t use handcuffs anymore.” Hoseok’s face was instantly dull. He still tortured himself for what had happened that one time. The look in Giggle's eyes as he let her wrists free, the angry red marks on her skin showing the indentations of the metal. The way she had seemed so broken, so lost. And the heavy tears falling on his chest as she hid in his form, clinging to him.
"Just once? Me and Lace had to use them a couple times. Both of us. Sometimes she's not in the right mindset and she asks me to stop and cuddle her. Sweetest thing in the universe." His eyes turn dreamy. "After her taste, obviously."
Hoseok laughs and punches him lightly. "TMI, bro."
"Come on, if Giggles tasted that sweet you would boast too."
"I'd rather keep that honey all to myself."
"Greedy." Taehyung poured himself some cola, watching it fizzle before downing it in one go. "By the way, do you have any good role play suggestion? I'm thinking of surprising her during the weekend but I'm so tired I can barely think."
"Strangers at the hotel. Book a room, meet at the lobby and then go upstairs to fuck like bunnies?" Hobi said it without even thinking.
"Done that."
"It's a classic. Giggles loves it. She fucks me like a slut." He snickered softly, nothing but dark mischief in his voice, but also undying fondness for his beloved.
"And that's TMI." Tae quips.
"You asked."
"Yeah, fair."
"Maid and master. Or butler and madame. You pick." Hobi drank some Sprite directly from the bottle.
"Cliché." Taehyung tutted and proceeded with his meal. “I don’t know. Not really.”
"Artist and muse? I don't know man, you're super picky." It came out with his typically whiny intonation, his tone a rollercoaster as he got deeper into thought.
Taehyung stayed quiet for a few minutes, mulling over the possibility. “Could do.”
The other man slurped in his noodles, finishing them and sipping the soup. “So, roleplay, uh?”
“It makes me feel freer. Like I’m not V from BTS. Like I’m just a boy who loves his girl.”
Hobi nodded. “You don’t know the incredible amount of places I wish I could fuck Giggles.”
Tae clapped his hands and laughed. “Like that one time at the restaurant. Damn, you disappeared for half an hour.”
Hoseok stood up to discard his container, then sat down again. In the meantime he reminisced. How Giggles had smiled mysteriously at him, holding his hand and carefully taking him away from the main scene, into a corridor and then to the restroom. He remembered how she’d palmed him heavily, how he’d cum in her mouth after five minutes of her devoted ministrations. He remembered how Giggles had fingered herself as she was sucking him, waiting for him to be done so he would crouch down, bunch up her skirt and eat her out until her eyes crossed and her legs quivered, lost in ecstasy.
“Sometimes I wished I could just get lost somewhere like in an alley or drive off in the countryside and get it all loose.” Hoseok huffed quietly as he cleaned after his meal, grabbing an half empty tube of ice cream and setting it on the table, again sitting beside Tae. “Make her take off her panties while we’re out for dinner. Do her against the mirror in the elevator.”
“The one back at the dorms...” Tae arched an eyebrow, nodding knowingly.
“Yeah. Or like… Go to a club and just finger her on the dancefloor. Or in a dark nook.” His eyes crinkled shut.
“I get it. People knowing you sucks sometimes. Lace and I wanted to go to one of those... dungeons? Or maybe like an adult club. One of those places where you can perform in front of a crowd. Try some real exhibitionism. And some serious bondage.” Taehyung finished his own meal, discarding the finished cups and plates and grabbing a spoon to share the ice cream.
“Like, shibari?” Hobi asked, making eye contact with his friend.
“Yeah, why not.” Tae shrugged. “Lace would be interested. We’ve done mild things before and she enjoyed, but those are things you need to learn with an expert and just thinking of all the things that could go wrong makes me shiver.” He took a big mouthful of ice cream, almost freezing his brain in the process.
“I took an online course. Kinda fun.” Hoseok smiled and turned a bit shy. “Giggles was ecstatic. We learned some extra knots together, from a book our teacher recommended. She’s a keen student. Very dedicated.” He exploded in bubbly laughter.
“Would you let her tie you up?” Tea asked.
“I don’t know if she wants to, but I would let her.” Hobi blushed. “I wouldn’t mind. She’s talented. And disciplined. Very careful and diligent. I know I would be in good hands. What about you?”
“I’ve already let Lace tie me up.” Taehyung was absolutely confident, his voice neutral. “I enjoy letting her manhandle me every now and then.” He shrugged again, blowing his cheeks and rubbing at his chin. “She can do that. Honestly, she did take some lessons and taught me a few things. We explore a lot together.” At this, his eyes moved to the floor, a bit flustered. Lace knew his body like no one else in the world. He had spent years living in it and getting to know it, but his girlfriend had put body and soul into exploring him, memorising every small tell, every little quirk and sweet spot. Lace had unravelled him in a couple weeks, studying his anatomy with a maniacal precision. And when he allowed her to take control of him, her knowledge showed. Her fingers could draw endless pleasure, keeping him on his toes for hours and then making him explode like fireworks. But the most important thing was the way she had learned to soothe him, to care after him, her affection like balm to his bitter moods and darkest nights.
“Glad for you.” Hoseok gave him a pat on the shoulder, drawing him in for a hug.
Taehyung was getting ready to leave. “I got to talk to Namjoon. He’s giving me feedback on some lines in English. By the way, have you heard of him and Vixen?”
“What?”
“Had a fight. He’s hell-bent on making it up to her.” Tae scrunched his nose. “Guk sorta walked in on them in the studio the other day. I don’t know if they made up.”
Hoseok pouted. “Joon temper’s sucks. Boy got some pent up pressure and he’s gonna blow a fuse someday or other. Plus Vixen’s no saint.”
“She holds him accountable for his bullshit. Takes good care of him. Plus, man, she’s a keeper.”
“Truly.” Hobi thought back to the sparks between her and Namjoon everytime they’re together. If that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what it could ever be. Probably it was the way Giggles searched for his hand when she was afraid, the way she always looked at him when she found something funny, or that small breath she held every time he said her name. Or even the way he needed to bury his nose in her neck when he needed to rest. How he always put his hand on the small of her back when he needed her at his side, when he looked for support and protection.
Taehyung already had his hand on the handle of the kitchen’s door when Hoseok stopped him. “How do you store your… stuff, with Lace?”
“You mean what? Toys? Porn? Pics?”
The older huffed. God, he’s really shameless. “Your vids?”
Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. That stuff. I assume you’re not hiding it from her?”
“I was thinking of shooting something. I need safe storage.” Hoseok rubbed at his forehead, crossing his arms.
“Avoid phones. Worst thing. Get yourself a good camera and a decent memory card. Like 72GB. Keep all the stuff in the memory card or pen drive. Lace and I have it in our bedside table. Never keep stuff on the phone or in cloud.” He pointed a finger towards Hoseok for emphasis. “I would recommend an action camera, which is practical like a phone but safer. But if you do use a phone, no connection, no wifi, nothing. Just a phone used like a good ol' camera. Move all the stuff away as soon as you’re done.”
“Yeah, that was sort of a given..” Hobi nodded. “So, a camera? Suggestions?”
“Depends? Handheld or tripod?” Taehyung asked, checking his phone.
“You know me. Hands on my girl, and I like shifting a lot.”
“Tripod. Definitely. I’ll send you some links for reference tonight. Enjoy.”
#bangtan sonyeondan#bts smut#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts reaction#bts headcanon#kim taehyung#jung hoseok#hoseok imagine#hobi imagine#hoseok reaction#hobi reaction#taehyung imagine#taehyung reaction#hoseok one shot#taehyung one shot#bts conversation
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