#colored a messy scribble so ignore how bad everything looks

[secretbangtnn]

Love Lies | kth I

➤ summary : You never had it easy. From the first day of your life it seemed like fate was a big joke, making every effort to make you feel miserable. Shortly after taking the first step into adulthood, you are convinced that childhood doom follows you like a shadow. On the verge of being broke without any help, you take your friends advice and try your hand in industry you have no idea about.

➤ genre : CEO! au, prostitution but not really au, strangers to enemies to lovers, Smut, fluff, angst

➤ pairing : Taehyung x reader ft. Jimin (This chapter Jimin x reader)

➤ ratings : 18+ NSFW

➤words : 10k

➤ warnings : swearing, prostitution, sex for money, mentions of mental health, toxic household, mentions of violence, explicit sexual content, mxm, fxm, family problems, dishearitance, toxic relationship, Taehyung is bad at feelings, reader is lost, soft boy jimin, sexy hot taehyung (couse that will need a warning) - more to be added

notes ~

I finally did it! I'm so sorry for the wait and how the chapter came out - it's a little more messy than I predicted but i wanted to give you something before the big story. I promise the next chapter is going to start with the big action and main plot and finally with Taehyung. I really hope for some feedback, I worked hard for it to be done before the next week and even though it may seem boring i really hope it’s okay.

taglist:

@jinssexytoe @danyxthirstae01 @alwaysasadaesthetic @luvmingyu @chimincubus @minshookie29

Underneath the sunrise

Show me where your love lies

Relationships that are based on lies never last long and everyone who found themselves in artificial feelings, knows of the truth of those words. Although that sweet sinful lie sometimes replaces that thing we could have never got.

You never thought about yourself as someone low, at least not that low to kneel to beg of something so materialistic like money.

You respected yourself at the same time being sure that you would fight everything alone. Just like a good fighter - you didn't need a good sword in a big war. Even once in your whole life you wouldn't have thought of stepping that low to actually work as a cleaner in old school or supermarket lady, that couldn't even use the calculator right.

How ironic, we love when inevitable doom falls on people that did not deserve it.

You were taught from the beginning, how to live, what to do, how to look, and the most important who to listen to. It's so weird when we find a character that's not extremely bad or good, not the shy mouse of the school, also not the hot rebellious cool girl with too big ego, and mouth so unbelievable that you actually start to think if you have ever met someone without such basic manners.

Fact is that you are bland, your life never yours to live, as someone recorded it with a script in their hands, and a plan for an ending and second part. It was frustrating knowing how many people never cared about you, however you could not say that you indeed did too.

Lessons were taught, those made you somehow resistant to disappointments in life. First happening in early stage, not even first year of your high school, people started to know - know about this and that, about family of yours and how privileged they would be if they had you on their side.

But you did not have a problem with it, mindset so set that you liked to think about money as a guarantee of friendship. And with this thought you let the first people use you, not minding their motive of only getting part of your prosperity.

So you believed to those days that your childhood indeed was normal.

You never tried to run from your life, you never saw yourself as a hormonal teenager in need of attention.

In the end only those who were born in respecting families, where work and pride is placed higher than blood ties, knows how upringbing really looks in such a household. Your standart always high, doing that to not need to put it higher again.

Parents instilling you dreams that were not yours, making you believe in something they always wanted. Like it was written, your whole life does not belong to you, and realization over it came in the moment when it was a little too late. Happy smiles never real, friends you swore would not leave you, disappeared within a night.

However let’s not impose that your parents were monsters, killing you on the inside with their cold demeanor or making your life miserable.

The first problem began when you had enough, when a virus in your mind told you about your own desires.

You remember this day like it was yesterday. Invisible mark on your check is still pulsating, with a wound much deeper inside screaming at you that it is still not healed.

“I want to study medicine.” Those were the exact words you first told your mother, freezing her in place and scarring inside with the power and destruction they held. She did not hold back with ignoring you, acting like the sentence was a mere passing wind, just fluffing hair in a not nice type of way. You expected that, nothing new from a shell of a person your mother has become, money and power empowering her mind, probably killing the young woman you are now, in her.

So the first step of actually making a point of how you processed to cut your family ties, were with your mother, kind of preparing you for what has to come.

Dark room, with marble accents and a woody smell that came straight to your nostrils. Mahogany desk, big enough to contain tons of papers scattered over it like some kind of nto important rubbish. You however knew better, and those innocent stock of inked pages held more value than maybe you yourself.

It was so hard to breathe in this tiny space, now feeling ever more closed up, dark and not welcoming. You tried to believe that the reason for it was not really a man sitting just before you, not minding your presence in a slighlets, but a stress and emotions on your back, you were trying to bear by yourself.

“I’m busy.” Short answer, not even directed to you - not that the man ever looked at you with those dark eyes. Predictable, exactly like you guessed. Cold feeling with a hot flush over your cheek, not knowing where the previous patience had gone.

Maybe you finally had enough. You were too tired to try to understand.

“Dad, please listen to me.” Ice cold bucket over your head, a void eyes now on you, not really expecting them to stay on you for so long, or even look up. Pupils a little blow out, stirring the dark color pallet of his eyes, similar to the tone of the bags under them. What a wrack of a man he really was, lanky hands under the suit, scribbling over something not even a minute ago, now lying lifelessly on a brownish desk.

“You really couldn't find better time for your whining? Go on, I still have a lot of work to do before I need to actually go.” Unconcern, you could even feel the unitresment oozing from him, hitting you with those eyes. They were looking at you, but at the same time it felt like they never were there. Black holes, no feelings found, gaze scary for those who never met someone so indifferent.

“I dropped out.”

“What?” Words came after some silence, piercing straight your beating heart. Hands in fist, just beside your thighs, so white that it could even be a little concerning for those looking from the side. You were nervous, even after you told yourself that this conversation was not going to be easy. Smooth information that it should be, your own life choices never discussed so openly.

“I dropped out of college”

Not a breath was heard, a heavy hand landed on the desk with a smack, knocking in the process some of the scattered pens.

“You did what?” Too calm, his voice was too calm for such information. Nerve wracking feeling once again welcomed you inside, making you take one step back. Soft material of the shirt creased under your hard grip. “It’s not the time for such a jokes Y/n”

“I’m not joking dad, I took the papers yesterday. I'm tired of wasting my time on something I never wanted.”

“Oh? But are you really? What are you going to do then? I'm getting really curious” Tone momocking you in every kind of way. You clench your teeth, an annoyed expression came over your face, just to disappear within one glance of the man.

Questions were rhetorical, laughing at your whole being in the cruelest manner. He knew about your every vulnerability, molding your persona from the beginning. So it must have been funny for him, seeing a little girl, someone he treated not entirely equally, however putting some kind of hope and dreams he himself could not reach, standing before him like a scared puppy asking for a treat.

“You yourself know the best how important those studies are for you. You prepared your whole life to go there and take my place one time, so don’t joke about it like it’s some kind of dish you are bored of eating.”

“You forced me to do it! I never wanted to take your place, study the stupid law.”

“And you decided that this is the time to suddenly realize that? Y/n from the beginning, we always gave you what you wanted, fulfilling your every wish, buying everything you wanted, and even after that you can’t be grateful. We only asked you for one thing, one thing Y/n, there is not such a thing like your dreams, there is only our family.” You wanted to laugh, those stupid exucess, only making you annoyed and wroked up. Manipulating you into believing you were selfish, that you are the problem, and you owe them right to living.

“Don’t be ridiculous father, you are not in the place to talk about family or do I need to remind you of Na-”

You heard it before you felt it. Burning feeling right in your left cheek, head on the side from the harash contact it made with the ringed hand. It was not the first time you saw or experienced such an act. Father being the man that loved to lose his temper rather fastly, hiding on the outside behind the calm demeanor and innocent smile.

Blood on your tongue, the metallic taste in your mouth like a forbidden flower you just tasted.

“You really want me to get mad today hm? “ You really wanted to nod, looking straight at him from your hair that fell after the slap. Hand on the cheek, trying to stop the pulsating ache to echo so much, however you know the best that the hot feeling is only building up and it's the only matter of time till the beautiful tones of purple show on your soft skin.

His own hands now begin viped over the handkerchief, a little blood over the white fabric, likely from the little scratches the rings were able to make.

His back to you as he went back behind the dark desk, sitting on his chair like nothing happened. And you knew, secretly that it was the end, that the conversation was done and nothing else could be said.

You closed your eyes, not even noticing you did it, realizing it after the first salty tear fell to your mouth, giving you a taste of sorrow. Head down, not in shame but in anger, with a pulsating cheek not letting you forget about the consequences your every word bears, you turned around going to the door that before somehow gave you so much hope.

“Oh and Y/n, there is no you without this family, but there is family without you. It won’t be the first time when I lose a child.”

Those exact words hunted you till this day. Rather heavy feeling, three years not long enough to make you forget, or let you accept a new life.

Loud noise of passing cars just outside the dirty window with a pounding of heart echoing in your ears. It was one of those bad days - you liked to say, those however started happening a lot of more. Breaking was never something you wanted to do, working so many jobs you could not count on your fingers, living in shitty apartments for no longer than two months just to end up on someone's couch.

That is the life you chose, the life you barely lived, everyday wishing for a miracle.

Harsh paper under your fingers, weighting your hand weirdly down - maybe it was the words that made the letter so heavy, maybe the truth you needed to face. Fact is that you do not know what to do, trying for the last months to make a living for yourself, get better pay and settle down for a longer time.

Words of your father echoing once again, making your eyes squish with the feeling. It was so hard to accept a defeat, something that you worked so hard for and for so long. You could not beg, you could not go on your knees again, and even if it was an option, imagines and memories of life in such a household keep you in the place you are now.

Head resting under your arms, shielding bright rays of sun from your eyes, long locks falling down in waves just over your pale face. You pulled them with a strength you did not know you possessed at the moment, as if it was because of them you needed to deal with all of this.

“Think Y/n, think” Mutters fell from your mouth like a mantra, supposed to make you cheer up a little. Void in your head, not ending emptiness that scares you as much as the strings of unpaid numbers on this goddamn paper.

An late hour struck on the side clock, hanging on one of the grey walls of the run down apartment you lived in. Sight itself is depressing, leaving you in wonder if maybe it is not one of the reasons for your current mood.

Who you wanted to trick.

A little knock once again echoed in the quietness of your home, reminding you of the late hour. Looking from your thick locks of hair, you sighed seeing how little time you actually got to get there. With one move, you left the scrap of paper on the side, and stood up from the ugly green couch, taking in the process bag of the crookedly hanged hook.

Fast footstep as you nearly run over one of the olders ladies living in the same flat, trying to messily wrap an apron over your waist, which is not as easy as it seemed to be earlier. Bluish fabric holding on to you with all the power, hanging a little on the too long strings, that untied themselves with each step.

You tried not to think about all those stares, looking at you as you run past them, not minding where your feets go, or if you accidentally push someone on the side. Let people think what they want, it's not like your opinion matters, and being a disgrace to your whole family disappears.

Familiar neon letters came to your sight forming the greenish title of caffe you soon found yourself in. A little bell rang as the door opened informing everyone about your presence. Calm atmosphere, everyone was busy in their own word, you loved this, a quiet place which you often found yourself admiring.

You wished that working there was not such an obligation, the only thing that let you stay in your current apartament. Rosy cheeks, and cheeky smiles as people got their morning coffee, thanking you quietly for the drink with such a pure impression, that you could not hold back the smile you gave each one of them.

“I’m so sorry for being late, I hope you didn’t need to run too much.” You said between heavy breaths, still trying to catch remaining puffs of air, head tilted to the side, hands on knees as you looked at the little blonde behind the counter.

Said boy only laughed a little, shaking his head from the embarrassment after the statement. Ringed hands cleaning some cups, quiet melody living his plump lips.

“Am I suppose to feel offended? I’m not an old man you know.” He asks, knowing that the answer will never be given. Voice on the lighter side, something you would expect from such a soft looking boy, warm and sweet to listen, and you indeed do, always keeping quiet when the boy talked about his own day to fill the quietness of your workplace.

You knew the boy was one of the things that made you feel normal, with his bright persona and angelic personality, you liked to believe he was one. He did not ask, knowing some things should stay in the dark, and you repaid him the same, being fully aware of the boy's secrets.

“Not at all. Beside we all know that it's not about you, but about who will get in trouble from your whining - and yes, it would be me. “ You say, patting his back on the way to the other side. Confused gaze now on you, as you smirk at the questioning boy waiting for some kind of elaboration, only getting from you another cup to wipe.

“Should i remind you of a certain person, which came to me with a complaint of how his favorite boy was tired - what was his name? Oh yeah Yo-”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

You laughed at the squeaky voice that came in a form of fast spoken answer, a little too fast to understand every word completely. Pretty blush came over his round cheek, soon appearing on tips of his lears, hidden by mop of blonde hair.

Not a piece of judgment in your gaze, but rather sweet caring look over the embarrassed boy next to you, trying so hard not to look bothered by your everyday teasing, that he was slowly getting accustomed to, liking how your voice gets a little lighter, your eyes light up and a pure giggle leaves your mouth.

Yeah he definitely could live with it if it means he can see the sparkle pops out in the dark of your pupils.

Cup in his hands a little heavy with the next thought that came over him. Melody coming with the pleasant wind of the early monday morning, his eyes however discreetly gazing over your figure. He knew when the times were worse, when your collarbones stood out more, welcoming i'm from the collar of an old shirt, you probably needed to wash by hands, and he hated that even if he tried to explain it, not care so much, he simply could not stop the worry seeking of him.

You were a sweetheart, never judging him, understanding his reason even after he told you about the second job he needed to take. You simply smiled, wishing him all good, and getting excited about dreams that were not your own, laughing with him and talking about his future plans as if you had place in them.

Thanks were never enough to pay off all the hardship you helped with. He respected you, admired so many things about you, how you don’t need a reason to give an arm to cry on, always taking a piece of burden on your own shoulders, whispering promises and talking about a better future that comes with hardships.

“Don’t be so embarrassed~ “ You sing to his ear when you pass him, going over to the coffee machine, big bag of beans in your hands. “I dare to say I got a little jealous when I saw him for the first time.”

“Gosh I hate you sometimes.” He whines, throwing his head back, closing his eyes to remain calm. Smile now on your lips, little giggles leaving your busy persona, trying not to be too loud in such an early hour.

An enjoyable silence came over once again, only sounds of working machines and knocks of cups, that were cleaned and wiped, mind automatically getting fuzzy from the fresh brew of coffees and autumn wind. Not a person in a shop, being still a little too early to welcome customers or get a morning drink, subtle music playing a little louder at those times filling little breaks of silence.

So how surprising it was, when those little giggles tickled your own ears suddenly and strong arms, clothed in white shirt, sneaked around your waist, making you lose the focus on filling the cup with beans. Blonde hair over your cheek, stroking the soft skin with a funny feeling, only pushing you to squirt more.

“You know if you liked him so much, you could have just said. I would think of something.” He whispers mockingly, smacking his lips in the end. Shiver comes with his next move, hands on your hips, keeping them from stirring so much, hot and on the smaller side however still noticeably bigger than your own. “Sadly I do not share my clients.”

With those words, he quickly detaches himself, hitting your bum with a cheeky smile that you soon could see right before you as the boy grabs one of the fresh croissants, putting the whole thing into his mouth.

“It must be big for you to say that.” You laugh, looking at the choking boy with the same expression he was giving you not even a minute ago.

“That was totally inappropriate.” Says blonde, chugging a glass of water you gave him out of pity.

“Now, don’t play an innocent Jimin, I see how you look at that one girl that comes here every friday. Didn’t you even memorize her order - gosh i heard you repeating it so many times that I know it myself.”

“Okay, okay maybe you are right, but it doesn’t mean you can judge me.”

“Would I ever?” A dramatic sight from the boy's accusations leaves your lips, you touch your heart looking at him with the most hurt eyes you could manage to do, a little tear spins in your eye. Mouth full of baked goodie, he laughs showing a little of non eaten food, with a proud expression to it. Your own smile now noticeable on face, happy feeling over your whole being, loving how this short amount of time with the bubbly boy let you forget about some problems. You take one of the left rags of the counter and throw it at his face, hoping to get him to work. “Stop eating! We are opening soon and I don't want to listen to how the coffee machines should be ready before the first client, because someone didn’t want to move his ass.”

“Just say you don’t want to deal with that old raisin.”

Nobody did, but Jimin had some superpower you sadly did not possess, and could at least shut the old businessman that somehow always comes first. Coming back to an earlier job, you pour black beans in the measuring cup, trying not to let the weight of the bag swoop you.

Place once again in a nice atmosphere, Jimin singing somewhere in the back, probably preparing syrups and goodies, sorting eveyrything on the displae plate. You two fell in a pleasant rhythm, doing your jobs like robots, knowing where things should go, and how not to disturb each other in the middle of action.

And it was something you really enjoyed, that piece and order, making you feel secure at least in such a place. Like you had power over your own life, your hands did what you wanted, your mind clear with tasks to be done.

Peace.

You both knew that this place was a mere act in the theatre of lies, you played in. Cafe such like that one, a happy place for two broke students, that tried everything in their power to make a living, pursue dreams so far away, still hoping that they are not going to disappear with all the hardships.

You could just drown in this lie of beauty picture you painted yourself, pretending your lifes do not look as bad, and even though you did not know the boy so well, you could tell from his eyes that he indeed is a player in the same game as you.

The truth being you did not know each other, you were not close. You knew about his job, about his own problems - some of them left unsaid, but who could you judge when you acted exactly the same.

Understanding from each other was enough.

However the boy tried to help you, offering sum of money or better paid jobs in times when you were too tired to hide it, those although - he learned after some time, never were an option for you.

And so with the next passing wind, the first client came welcoming you with kind of a grumpy smile, wishing for you to just make him the coffee. It was as always, a busy morning on the first day of the week, that always seems a little more crowded than any other, with business men and middle aged women trying to get over their morning sickness as fast as possible.

You saw the girl you talked about some minutes ago, looking from her covering eyes bangs, squashed from pink beanie on her head, nevertheless still laid perfectly. A little wave, hand hid under the panda mittens she liked to wear every other day the temperature goes down.

You smiled at the interaction, the excited smile on Jimin's face he tried so hard to hide, not doing a good job with his nearly nonexistent eyes that disappeared just because of it. She was pretty, a student in a university you both go to, however you were not sure what exactly she was majoring in.

Her funky style makes you take a shot at something related to fashion, but that might be completely wrong and the girl could just like wearing such bright clothes.

“Love the mittens, they look nearly as cute as you.” You heard, looking back from your busy hands, to gaze at the flustered pair. Adorable giggle soon leaves her mouth, covering lips with the said gloves as her own eyes disappear from weirdly similar eyesmile.

Jimin was a sweetheart, someone who deserved a happy future. And so you did everything to make that happen, wishing him the best and trying to help him even if it means your own happiness goes on a second plan.

“I'm sorry but could I order.” Coming back to your own job, you look up immediately, catching the gaze of one of the clients you did not recognize.

“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry for the wait. What can I get you?”

----

A loud noise of a closing locker echoes in a quiet room in the back of the coffee shops. Night air chilling from the open window you opened some minutes ago, to get rid of a smell so many people.

The calm of the room soothing your buzzing nerves and shaking hands, that always seems to do it after a hard day of work. Your attention now somewhere else as you try to take off the blue apron, laying it somewhere on the lonely bench next to you.

It was a busy day, helping you forget about what waits for you at home, and what person will probably visit you in the meantime. You didn’t like those times, the quiet after such hard working hours, leaving you with anxious thoughts rotating around the same problems you tried so hard to run away from.

So you tried once again, silence your mind with your hands, taking every job you could, now wiping lockers that never needed to be wiped before. The same rug from before in your hands, sliding over an uneven surface.

“Y/n?” You jumped from the sudden voice, swearing that Jimin was in the other room just a second ago. Turning around, you try to look unbothered, clenching the old rug in your hands with such interest. A little noise comes from your mouth, hum to let him know you are aware of his presence.

“Everything alright?” He asks a little unsure of the question, looking at you from the other side of the room, close to the door connected to the main room.

“Yeah, why would there not be?

“You were cleaning the lockers like not even a minute ago.” He says without thinking. Voice somehow suspicious, full of hidden concern as his suspicions from before seem to be true. You were not alright, and Jimin knows exactly what it may be. “If you need hel-”

“I'm alright! I'm really alright there is no need to worry, I'm just stressed because med major is harder than I thought.” The sigh is enough to let you know that he is not buying it.

Hard steps as he comes closer, opening his own locker situated right next to you, eyes glazing back at you from his clothes is started to put back. Tight lipped smiles is the only thing you are capable of answering with, catching his dark stare for a second.

“Im worried, and I know what you want to say, but I can’t help it. You are always the one that takes my burden so why can I not do the same?” He closes the locker with too much strength, making you jump again from the loud noise.

“It’s different.”

“How is it different? You help me with everything, you let me cry, you let me crash at your apartment when my parents try to make a mess again, so what’s the problem with me?! You don’t even want to tell me what's wrong dammit.” His eyes glassy from all the emotions, hands in a fist as if he tried to hold himself back. He turned completely to you, cornering you to the lockers behind, not letting you leave this time.

“Is it because of my work? Are you ashamed to take dirty money from someone who can’t earn normally and needs to sell themself. Is it this?! Tell me Y/n, I’m tired of seeing you in such a state, you are my friend.”

“You know it’s not that.” You tried to argue catching his watery eyes.

“So tell me, tell what is going on.”

Your own mouth in agape, words lost somewhere in the back of your head. So many years going alone, keeping everything to yourself shows itself with such a hestation of saying easy words that could let you breathe easier at night.

But would they really?

Giving someone your own burden was something you were taught as a shame. Problems should stay in family, and even there your father always told you to fight them alone.

“I - “ Eyes hopeful, looking at you with new found desperation. Big and different from the ones he was giving the sweet girl with panda mittens, and that alone made you sick knowing that the sparkle left because of you. “I’m sorry Jimin I just can’t.”

And you broke. With the remaining energy you mustered, you fell onto Jimin, him nearly not catching you on time. First tears fell, with such a power, rolling down your cheeks, wetting the soft fabric of Jimin’s shirt. You did not know why, why now you decided to just let go, sobbing so much, hoping the boy will understand that you only need someone to hold you.

And he did, wrapping his arms so securely around, letting you hide the red face in a crock of his neck. Fresh smell of flowers and perfume he always wore with a noticeable hint of coffee, you probably possesed yourself. Quiet whispers of comfort, tickling your scalp a little, hands patting your hair with care, brushing them with such a delicacy, like he secretly knew how breakable you are now.

“It’s going to be okay.” Void promise, his lips close to you kissing your forehead, with shaky hands trying so hard to gather every tear that fell down. With a little move he sat on a bench, an apron which you earlier left there dropped on the floor, a quiet thud ran in the small room, you on his lap, trying so hard to become smaller nearly molding in the bigger body of Jimin’s.

Sorry’s fly through your mouth, realizing it after Jimin's starts to rock your body. He peels your face from the safe space of his neck, wiping your running tears with both of his thumbs and trying to smile a little.

“I know it’s hard, but sometimes we need to let someone in, let them help put broken pieces together.” Eyes shining in the dim light of the room, your mouth ready to disagree quickly however quieten by his own speech. ”I know what you want to say Y/n” He starts again taking a big breath. “Being helpless doesn’t mean being weak, asking for help is not something to be ashamed of. Being strong however - is letting someone in, taking they hand and standing up with them - you have to have courage to do it, and I know you do to - but whoever put such a toxic mindset in you, keeps you from it and you need to realize that there is no longer people who will judge you for falling down a litte.”

Eyes falling down, sore from all the crying that has no plans to stop. You wipe the snot with your sleeve as well as wet cheeks, laughing a little after it, sniffles in the room as you try to calm yourself a little.

Jimins gaze still at you, now softer still brushing your hair in a calming manner with the second hand drawing circles on the side of your waist. It was shameful, hearing such words, knowing deep down they were true, but too prideful to agree with them.

“Gosh If I knew you cry like that, I would take a bucket with me. I wouldn’t need to pay water bills for like two months with it. “ He laughs as you smack him with your hand. Smile on your face, you tilt your head leaning on his arm with all the weight, a small sigh leaves your mouth. Smell of coffee now is more prominent with his own perfume, which he wears everyday, pushing your mind into own fuzzy feeling. “You know that I will always be there for you, right?”

A silent nod is enough, not too much to say after such an outbreak from your side still buzzing inside you. You know it was true, with how much you both came through together, it would be stupid to leave someone who become somehow a safe heaven.

“What are you going to do now? You won’t take any money, I guess you either are not going to be too willing to crash in my apartment.” Your head immediately shots up, eyes searching those of Jimin. A look of confusion cross your face for a second, with the words repeating in your mind once again. His face however is still serious, not leaving your surprised gaze.

“W-what how do you kno -”

“Your landlord called, I didn’t want to disturb you on your break - by the way I saw you sleeping you are not as sneaky as you think.” He interrupts you in the middle of talking, brushing his hair.

You frown, looking in disbelief at the boy, a little upset from the news. Touching your phone was okay, but taking a call and not saying anything, it just fell wrong.

“So why were you trying so hard to force me to talk?” The questions came a little more aggressive than intended, but who could you blame when your private life was exposed so easily. Truth being that you felt not as angry as embarrassed, never sharing such information before leaving them in the dark.

“I know you would be angry when I tell you about the phone - which I was right about.” He pouts looking somewhere in shame, like a child that was caught with sneaking sweets.

“But it doesn’t matter, what are you going to do without help? It’s not like our boss will gave you a rise from nothing, and do not even think about starting another job - we have studies, it would be plain stupid unless you ask your family for help, you never mentioned them but they would understand right?.”

“They sure would.” You sneer, standing up from the comfort of his lap. Your smile turned down on the mention of those people, it's not like you want to have something going on with them, it would be asking satan for help and that always comes with a price. “Thanks for everything Jimin, but I will be alright.” You add walking back to the hatstand where your hoodie hangs, grabbing it with your free hand, second one carrying the bag. Jimin's eyes follow you, surprised by the sudden movement and innocently big, like he waited for some better explanations - which he won’t get.

“B-but wait! Where are you going, don’t leave me like that!” You heard the shouts, desperate movements in the previous room meaning the boy tried to catch up, however you were long ago outside the cute coffee shop, starting the journey to your quiet apartment. Maybe it was mean, and maybe Jimin was too good to be treated like this, but your own mood was now too fragile to stay in the same room as the insistent boy.

Autumn wind welcoming you once again, cold weather sneaking inside your clothes, the light hoodie not doing any justice with such temperature - still it was the only thing you owned with better quality. Head full of thoughts a little overcrowded with a starting headache, not letting you walk in a peace you somehow needed just now.

Walk to your house - at least the recent one, was not one of the long one, rather passing as a nice stroll. And even though your shifts ended in night hours, the quiet and calm way never made you feel scared of any sudden dangers awaiting you on Seoul's streets. It was a nice neighborhood, one where families that were a little lower than middle class tried to make a living, keeping their kids in a safe environment. Happy smiles and laughs welcoming you sometimes in the morning, kids rushing to their own school, greeting you even after those months you stayed there, only making you nostalgic at the thought of leaving such a safe haven.

So it was more than surprising when a quick footstep rang in your ears, soon nearing you even faster. Your beating heart now rapidly knocks in your chest, as your eyes try to search for the reason for those sounds.

You didn’t need to search for loong, soon hearing the screech of a voice not so far from you. “Y/n! Wait for me!” It was even worse when the little man started to dramatically draw his hands to touch, however your concern only lay in the thought of waking up the whole neighborhood. Eyes slitted, an annoyed expression crossing your face at the sight of the panting boy, soon stopping before you, not without tripping and nearly taking you with him. “You… really want to kill me.”

Heavy breath hitting your face, his voice strained and tired from the miles he needed to run to catch up to you. You however were more than a little shocked - yes Jimin is stubborn, and yes he is the person to run after someone just because the said person lost a penny, but his appearance here was different. It was crossing the invisible line you both draw, accepting each other's bubble of comfort.

So the question still stayed, your face hard with a thundering gaze waiting for the boy to calm a bit.

“Why did you suddenly leave?” Seriousness leaked out from his tone, however the way his eyes scrunched only meant that he indeed felt a little hurt from your previous action. And you don’t even wonder why, knowing how your choices could wound the innocent boy. “Is it about your family? If its a soft topic we can never talk about it ag-”

“You want me to walk away again?” His eyes got bigger at your cold tone, his foot taking a step back. Your family, the topic you did not want to bring up today, explaining the harsh demeanor you suddenly took. Eyes however softened as fast as they met the boy’s hurted ones, a gulp of remorse sliding down your throat. “Look - I appreciate your help but I don’t need a person to be helpless with.” You took a step forward placing your hands on the boy's arm, squeezing it in reassurement. Looking him straight into eyes a sight left your mouth soon forming in a little awkward smile - the only one you could force yourself into. “You helped me enough, there is nothing else you can do, It’s not your battle to fight you have your own problems and asking you to take mine would be cruel.”

And how awful it was to turn back leaving him again, you did just that, giving him the last pat with a smile. His own mouth opening and closing, agape from the schock you probably left him. And you were sure that this time he will let it go, your words full of coldness not leaving room for arguments.

“But what if I do?” His voice stopped you in the middle of the step, freezing your form with a new squeeze in stomach. You did want to hope for nothing, feeling how your eyes got bigger in surprise, being so close to turning back to face the blonde boy. “What if I can do something?”

“Jimin we are over it - I won’t take any of your mo-”

“I didn’t mean that. I’m not that stupid to not understand first hundret times you made it clear.”” You turn at his clear voice, full of seriousness and unsaid promises. New thoughts fell over your messy mind, Jimin’s voice still ringing in your ears as well as the hot gaze he kept on you, fixated on your weirdly sluggish posture. You were more than confused, his help however not new for you, the sudden change of demeanor was like a bucket of cold water maybe pushing you into admitting that the boy indeed had some kind of solution. “Please try to listen to me first and please try to be open minded.” He adds taking a big breath making him close his eyes for a second, only to stare at you even more firmly, nearly hiding his shaky hands. A silent nod from you lighted once again the enduring fire of his eyes.

Now you were even more curious.

“What if I get you a client?” Innocent question, firstly confusing you even more with the weird words, the realization came with your mouth opening a look of disbelief crossing your eyes for a second even if you tried to remind yourself that you situation it's not the one to be judgy.

“You do-”

“Let me finish, please?” And you could not find the power in yourself to not give in. Looking straight into his gaze you closed your mouth, still hanging from the previous schock you experienced. “I was in the same place as you some years ago, a broke student without any help or hope - and I know what you want to say, but it's not as bad as it seems. You don’t even know how much I wish that at that time I had better option, but there was none and probably won’t be if I still want to chase my dreams The job is really not that bad, people don’t know, they do not need to know - even if they wanted the community of them would not allow it cause they want only that - discretion.”

You winced, the cold brushing your cheeks even more from the chill night, moon being your only source of light shining at boy’s figure like in some kind of movie. And to be completely honest, you indeed feel like in some kind of drama, emotions oozing from both of you in waves crashing in the middle with a tension to it. You didn’t want to seem rude, your face trying to stay some kind of neutral, however you knew that Jimin saw the first pull you unconsciously did, decided to let it slip instead looking at you with even more solemnity.

Yeah you knew about his past, history he one time told you in the middle of breakdown, then seemingly crazy and full of hardship, now you started to see yourself in the boy, his place now taken by you in the most awful way.

“It’s really not that bad Y/n” He whispers, voice full of softness you were thankful about. You felt breakable, the thought of actually doing it scaring you with how probable it really is. “I’m so sorry I can't do more, but it’s the only way I can help.”

You didn’t even realize when he came so close, touching your arm with his little bigger hands clenching it. Your eyes squeezed as your hands fell to your sides lifelessly, emotions now once again leaving you a little too suddenly, the grip you always had on your life slipping from your grasp with a gasp. It was hard, facing something you worked so long for only to ruin it because of such a thing as money. It was so funny, your own younger self laughing at you probably, telling you how your choices led you to that state.

“It’s really the end huh?” You didn’t need to look to know about the sad gaze he momentarily gave you. Arm sneaking around your shoulders, your posture seemingly smaller than normally, bringing you to the warm body of the blonde boy. Not a word said, only the silence being louder than aggressive shouting.

There was no need for a better explanation, your mind was already processing the idea of selling yourself to someone, and how shocking it could be that it never crossed your mind before. You can’t say the job disgusted you, you can't say it did not leave you with a sour taste on your tongue, like something is wrong with the image of you in such an environment again.

Again.

Well that was something that did not sit right with you, running away your whole life from it, now going back to the cave of a tiger - conscious suicade.

Face plastered on the surface of the brown coat, fluffy fabric brushing your face with every breath he took. The gesture leaves you with a heavy heart, not understanding why Jimin wanted to help you so much. Was it an obligation? Did he feel like he owed you something?

You just couldn't grasp the idea why, why was he so insistent, it’s only you in the end, a friend from the same coffee shop he worked in, someone who is not important in his life, someone who he will leave when the time comes. So why?

And maybe with the next gust of wind, a quiet whisper in your ear you realized deep down, that he was the first person in your life which genuinely cared for you. However the musky scent and heavy thoughts still repeated the same question, but you knew somewhere in your mind that it’s only a matter of time when the quiet suggestion will be proven.

“It’s getting late. You should go home.” A silent nod, your head still leaning on his shoulders, too tired to move. His hands petting your hair, a quiet hum leaving his mouth while he did it, melody not familiar, dancing in the silence of the night. You sighted taking one step back, immediately feeling a cold breeze hitting you, the source of heat now gone, making you shiver in the lighter clothes. Little smile screeching on your lips after you saw his worried gaze, sitting on your figure not planning to move.

“You too.” Sticking your hands into the big pocket of your hoodie, you turned your head in the way he came nodding. None of you moved, gaze met in the middle as you tried to not show how cold you really wera, body shaking in unnatural ways wanting to move for some kind of warm up.

He did not smile, even after your own stretched into a larger one, you decided not to pry and just turn around with a silent wave, head ahead of you eyes looking in the dark depths of the street where you lived. He knew you were not alright, gaze piercing you through every layer you tried to put in a situation like this, a copy mechanism you were not that proud of. And so with the head lowered you took the first step away not minding the still lingering stare on your shoulders.

The main worry now being the cold weather and little clothes that shielded you from it, the idea of the whole conversation put somewhere on the side.

However, he and you were pretty well aware of what is going to happen the next day.

In the end it's you who soon is not even going to possess own body.

----

Sleepless nights were not new, the feeling of tiredness you could not just wipe with the piece of the fabric a familiar one, the eyes trying to stay focused on things even though they were so hard to close themself for some sweet time, just to be forcefully open. Two words were enough for you to not hide the utter ache, you so perfectly masked in the middle of the coldest night.

And so maybe it was the cold keeping you awake in the dark, the blanket not enough to warm up your lifeless limbs, or maybe the lingering touches of the blonde boy that stayed even after so many afters after the whole conversation.

You felt weak, blinking in the grey room watching the wall like it would show something incredible, the scratches on it similar to the one you did when the stress was too much, decorating pieces of your skin like an art. The night was a big blur, hours now looking at the nonexisting stuff passed with a blink of an eye only to put you in another of the memories.

Blonde hair somewhere there scrolled in the side of your mind. Oh yeah, the said boy came the next day, look on his face too hard to forget as the next wall you built was just ruined.

He looked at you from behind his eyelashes with eyes dimmed with a sort of fog. Silence being the only comfort in the moment - early morning helping with it. He knew that this time the situation did not have many options, not any without any loss.

However he came, with a mind to let you help with thinking of any other ideas to help you, the conversation from the other night forgotten after he stepped in the gloomy apartament. And it doesn’t surprise you, the look you probably carried spoke for himself.

In his hands soon layed inconspicuously looking scrap of paper, tempting with his appearance like the most loucioust sin. He read it with squinted eyes, not needing a lot of time to find out what exactly the letter applied to.

What surprised him after such information is, how really the girl hid behind such an innocent facade, the new wave of respect crashed on him with the thought how strong you really are to not ask for help. The human thing was to linger, searching for attention so long to have someone finally do everything for us.

He had money, he had it so much that he could easily help her for next month, but he knew how every proposition like that would end up.

In the end they were really similar.

“Maybe there is another way.” He cut the silence, after a while regretting the action. Eyes met somewhere in the middle and both of their gaze was meaningful enough to answer his void of hope. “Have you tried to talk with the flat owner?”

Grimace on your face once again was enough, you shook your head remembering not the best meeting with the older man. “Many times. The guy is purely business oriented, he doesn’t care about your private life but if you pay everything - which as you can see I have a problem with.”

“I know that it’s a hard topic, but what about your family. There needs to be at least one person.” You looked down, carpet under your feets still fluffy and soft under your feet, the silence embracing you both. Jimin awkwardly scratched his arm, biting his lips in the process, the topic one again making your mood even worse. “Im sorr-”

“There is no need, it doesn’t matter anyway. My family is off limits when it comes to those types of things.” You cut him off, looking from the side at the little embarrassed boy. A sigh leaves your mouth as you lean on to your old couch, ruffling your hair after. “Jimin there is really no other way. Your option is the only thing I can do, even if the idea scares me.”

He looked at you with a small smile, the memories from his past coming back to him, when it was him who was sitting at your place, maybe with a different situation, but the fear in the eyes remained the same. He sat next to you, hand catching yours latching fingers with yours, as if that small gesture was supposed to pass everything.

And maybe it was like that, however how sweet and calming the motion wouldn’t be, nothing has been solved, and your decision it's going to change your life completely.

“You start to accept it with time.” He whispers tightening the grip on your head, the sentence seemingly had a bit more to the story. You guessed he tried not only to convince you both himself too.

Idea still fresh in your mind, hard to process it actually is going to happen, eyes meeting once again with the dark ones of the boy, millions of heistations flowing in the circle of your pupils.

“What If I don’t want to accept it? Jimin, I'm going to sell myself like some kind of animal.” You started, soon seeing how every word pierced the boy, a hurt crossing his face for a while. However he himself knew how his job was not something to brag about, something that should be kept to yourself.

“First - you are not going to be a prostitute, it’s their job. Second - you are not selling yourself, your body maybe, your time - yes. This whole messed up business, which no one truly understands, it's not only based on pleasure and successful bargain. The people you are going to provide services will require more, however you too will be able to demand - and that’s the difference.” He instinctively stood up, turning his back to you to hide his face for you.

You decided not to question that, the topic probably being equally hard for him. Following his figure, you listened to every word which could calm your buzzing nerves.

“Mone-” You started trying to guess about the demand he was talking about. The cash suggests itself in your mind. The boy quickly turned back, dark eyes catching your breath in the middle.

“Respect.” He finished, taking an earlier abandoned cup of tea to his hand. You were confused, your gaze spoke for himself, the utter questions building with every quiet minute he left you with. “Do you know why so few people are able to survive in such a business, or why so few people know about it?” He asked knowing fully he won't get any answer from you. He sighted brushing his blonde hair back, a little oliy from the last day of work, he came to the other side of the room sitting on one of the smaller tables just before you.

“You will need to play a role, you will become an actress in real life without the power to question your own character. People that are directors in fact are going to be your clients, giving you the script you will need to act on. In the beginning it’s going to be hard, but with time you will understand that you can either love it or you are someone who is not suitable for such a job.”

So many questions, which only bundled up with the said words. A weird twinge in your heart, forcing you to stop thinking about it like a sweet temptation, however the beautiful words he wrapped everything with stronger. The idea seems so easy, so free and so good, too good to be true.

You looked at him, the tiredness hitting you suddenly but so many not arranged issues kept you on your toes, so with the remaining power you sighed rubbing your eyes. You decided, your last way out.

“How i'm even going to start?” The question filled him with a relife, not understanding exactly why, the thought of having someone close in the same job loaded him with unanswered happiness. He gazed back, the look making you sit more comfortable forcing your attention directly at him.

“The clients are mostly the people you least expect to. Although they are not people which can afford a whore - lame millionaires or self-proclaimed gangsters. Don’t get me wrong but if they were them they could have just bought the random first person that is willing to do everything they want, for them however the most important is discretion and loyalty.” He started, stopping for a while to take out his phone and quickly search something on it.

With one move he showed you a picture of a man, you strangely knew. Black hair, similar to the blackness of the sky so different from the boy sitting just before you and a beautiful porcelain looking skin. He looked proud, even as a imagine the frozen photo oozing of confidence and power.

You knew those people pretty well, a little too well. Too proud for their own good and too proud to admit their wrongs, making money in such a way to not get attention if they are dirty or not. Familiar contempt towards others. You tried so hard to run away just from people like that, you hoped the clients Jimin was talking about are just the little CEO’s, not that important or dangerous.

And how ironic it was that you yourself are going to willingly put yourself in such a toxic environment again, people that are more influential than politicians and authorities. Next question popping on the side, how the blonde boy survived there without any knowledge.

“I see you can guess about who i’m talking about, and It’s not your first contact with them, right?” He started, brushing his hair once again, a habit you noticed. He needed to admit that your expression put him in uneasiness, look on your face nearly scared like a child that watched horror for the first time. He didn’t want to annoy the topic, leaving it in the air with the restless tension, instead he closed his phone hiding it back into his pocket.

His eyes still on you, your mind somewhere else as the quietness of the room started to spin around. The unanswered question lingered on your tongue, kept in the end of your mouth like some kind of secret. And as you thought it’s the end, the little ping came from the pocket he put his phone into.

“Well, I don’t know If you are interested but there is someone who is willing meet.”

#yandere taehyung #taehyung #taehyung angst #bts #bts fanfction #bts fic rec #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic recs #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyng x reader #namjoon #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x you #taehyung imagine #jungkook fic recs #jungkook x reader #seokjin #yoongi x you #jimin x reader

[myonepiece]

Perospero, Zoro, Sanji with a s*icidal S/O

Description: a few HCs about how he would act with a depressed S/O

Warnings: death, s*icide, self-harm, angst 

A/N: Sorry for the drab theme, I’m in a bad mind space tonight and I felt like writing something to distract me and hopefully maybe cheer a few people up a bit- so this is just a quick scribble of some thoughts pls ignore any spelling mistakes and the messiness, it’s not my best work 💕 also I’m working on my other requests don’t worry, they’re just all longer posts 💕

Perospero is smart he knows what you’re doing when you lock yourself away in the bathroom or disappear for hours or sneak out of the room at night only for him to hear whimpers somewhere in the dark

And everytime it breaks his heart. He doesn’t exactly understand how you feel or why you would feel like this, but he has an understanding. When he finds you cutting yourself he’ll take the blade away from you, aggressively if he has to, and he cleans you up before sitting with you on his lap, and he clings tightly onto you pressing your head farther into his chest

He talks you through your “episodes” or bad moments, telling you stories, that always involve someone else’s pain and suffering because he’s a psycho, but he hopes it’ll cheer you up- or at least distract you which it usually does

He presses light kisses everywhere, or more like he lightly licks the places. In your worse moments he tends to hold you tighter, clinging to you even with everything he has, he does it subconsciously usually, simply trying to let you know he’s there to hold you and tether you to this world

He never judges you, but he’ll scold you, yell at you, he’s broken things against the wall a few times, simply because the anger at not being able to protect you from even yourself is eating away at him

He pampers you and spoils you everytime you’re sad, hoping that you’ll realize the reason for you to live, when you slip into the depressive space late at night, or more accurately put- early in the morning, he’ll list reasons for you to stay, he’s blunt he gets to the point

Zoro doesn’t get it, he’s had depressive episode before definitely, but that was awhile ago when he was younger, and he doesn’t remember much so he’s extremely confused when it comes to you

He acts on impulse and instinct, but when it comes to you it’s delayed by a moment of uncertainty and fear and sadness and realization, everytime

He stalls as his sight falls on you sitting on the floor slicing, only with seconds wasted before he’s practically throwing himself on the floor and flinging the blade as far as he can

His touch is rough at first, gripping your shoulders or your untouched wrist, he shakes you and looks at you practically fuming and scolding you, begging you to tell him what you’re doing and why

He naps with you everytime you’re tired or he is, pulling you against him and nuzzling his face into your neck letting you do the same to him

He really only knows one way of comforting you, and that’s physical affection- more specifically hugs and forehead kisses. Though he does always say “it’s gonna be okay” and “I’m here” “I’ve got you” just the simple reassuring phrases that he means with every bone in his body

He’s not very good at words so unfortunately you can’t really count on him to tel you reason not to end it, but being with him provides a sense of comfort, of being safe, of being home

He hold you tightly when you cry, when you scream and hit his chest telling him to let you go, when you tell him you messed up your clean streak he tells you it’s okay and it’s just a mistake- everyone messes up. He’s protective, watching everyone’s moves even closer, making sure no one dare to threaten the candle flame burning in your eyes

Heartbroken, the one word to describe him. He feels as though he himself is the one being cut. He drops to his knees and begs you to tell him what you want, what you need, what will make you stay

He cuddles you and smothers you with kisses, even when you’re covered in blood or vomit or tears or alcohol, he’s there for every bruise and cut, for every scream of anguish and fear and frustration, for every weeping moment when you think there’s no way to reach the surface

He’s like a guardian angel, watching over you to make sure you’re not hurt in anyway, though he’s not always successful when it comes to you hurting yourself, big TW here- Sanji told you to cut him if it would help, hurt him if it would keep you from damaging yourself even more, past the point of fix

He has you bake with him, making cookies snd cakes and pies, decorating them while talking of the future, because you will have one

He tells you about the all blue, trying to find a dream for you, reminiscing all of the moments and memories that added color your dull world, listing reasons for you to live another day

When the hopeless thoughts and broken sobs creep up on you, taking you in their embrace and trapping you in a bubble of overwhelming uselessness and gruesome thoughts, Sanji is there by your side holding you the whole time, holding you head in the crook of his neck while he rocks side to side and whispers how much he loves you

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #sanji #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #one piece sanji #one piece zoro #zoro #zoro headcanons #zoro imagine #charlotte perospero #perospero imagine #perospero headcanons

[alixdelcourt]

Hello hello againnn, tysm for yesterday’s request, I love your writing!<3 I have a new idea I just thought of, tamaki + mha guys/girls (of your choice and if you write fruity fics too) with a reader who draws a lot? And maybe they get caught or they see a sketch of them? If it isn’t so much to ask for- ty!!!

MHA boys x reader who draws a lot

Some fluff and sweetness to brighten your day (I hope so)

Ft : Tamaki, Izuku and Denki

(First pic credits : Peachimis on TikTok)

It’s a beautiful day. The weather is fine: clear blue sky and warm sun. You and Tamaki are strolling in a parc, admiring the nature around and the ambient calm. Your boyfriend carries a wicker basket for you, holding your lunch and stuff in. When you two got hungry, you just settle under a big tree, unwrapping a blanket and having lunch in the branches’ shade. This was the kind of perfect dates that makes you so in love with Tamaki. He’s quiet, and like peaceful time, just like you. Birds of a feather flock together, isn’t it ?

Tamaki’s reading, comfortably leaning against the trunk, and you are scribbling some sketches in your sketchbook. Drawing is a passion, and you can’t help but try to picture whatever’s near you. This sketchbook is your private garden, and Tamaki respects it. He never presses you to show him what you had drawn, he just knows that if you want to, you would come up to him, asking for his opinion about it.

And today, you want to show him the picture of a cute bird who was perched just above your head. You wanted to know if it’s resembling to the model or not. You need an outside look.

“Tamaki ?”

He raised his nose from his book to look at you.

“Yes, (y/n) ?”

“Could you take a look at something ?”

“Of course, honey”

You hand you sketchbook to him, but when he took it from you, a wind blow turned the pages, loosing the small bird’s sketch. And Tamaki came face to face with… himself. It was him, on the drawing. His purple hair, his elf ears, his thin hands… But he was pictured as an angel. It was… really well done, and absolutely lovely.

You quickly shut and take back your sketchbook, brick red colored cheeks. But it was too late. He saw it. And he was hard blushing as well. You were embarrassed. You felt obligated to apologize:

“ I am sorry… Just forget about this… You should never have seen that. It’s bum, anyway… I am sor-”

You can’t continue, because Tamaki arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you to his embrace. He’s still blushing, and can’t hold your gaze, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was softly smiling, burying his nose in your hair. This drawing was the most precious confession you made for him. Even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s not bum. It’s perfect. I love it.”

And before you could add anything else,

“I love you, (y/n).”

Izuku Midoriya is sick again, and stuck in the infirmary. He had a hard time training when he did push too much on himself, and he needs to rest for a few days. You went to check on him with some friends, and poor baby was so anxious about skipping school and having trouble caching up what he missed.

You have a huge crush on Izuku, and in order to help him, and maybe score some points to him, you decided to take double notes in class, writing down in a new notebook, just like those used by Izuku himself. You’ll give to him after school, so you’re not obliged to lend him your messy notes, and he’ll be able to catch up studying in the infirmary. It was a bit hard to order and organize your note taking, but you want it to be well presented for him.

You struggle at the beginning, but get used quickly to write faster in order to double note on your book and his. Even Aizawa noticed and asked what were you doing. He lowkey congrats you for your “team spirit”. You did it all day long, in every class. You can be pride of yourself, it was a great idea.

But you didn’t notice. You didn’t pay attention to your bad habits. You’re an airhead, having trouble concentrating, and you need to focus your mind on something and keep your hands busy with some repetitive moves. Like fold and unfold the corner of the pages, clicking your pen, or just randomly scribbling on your pages’ edges. Little doodles that you don’t even look at. Oblivious drawings of what’s in your head.

Shiny smiling on, you head to the infirmary immediately after the bell ringing. Recovery Girl let you visit Izuku, who was better than yesterday.

“Izuku-kun ! How are you today ? Better ?”

“Yes, thank you for caring, (y/n)”

You took the notebook out of your bag, and give it to him. His name was beautifully calligraphed on it. He blushed a bit, looking at you for some explanations.

“I did this for you ! So you can study like us, even if you are not taking classes. It’s yours, you can keep it ! But since you’re not coming back tomorrow, Recovery Girl told me, I’ll come in the morning to get it back and to take note for you again. Does it sound okay for you ?”

After long minutes of embarrassed and grateful thanks from Izuku, you left him alone to study and rest.

The next day, as promised, you picked his notebook from his nightstand, since he was asleep, and nearly arrived late to your class. You sit at your desk and prepare yourself to take notes. When you open Izuku’s notebook, a fold paper drops from it. Your name was on it, so you unfold it. You freeze, eyes and mouth wide open, skin turning to a scarlet tone. Matching the redness of the heart that was drawn on the paper. A big bright red heart. With Izuku signature. A few moments later, still red, you have to concentrate if you don’t want to miss what Ectoplasm was explaining. Mathematics always give you headache, so you need to concentrate. It was then that you noticed what Izuku probably noticed as well. Little sketches of him. Everywhere. Him in his hero costume, in his school uniform, in school sportswear, smiling, winking, sticking his tongue out, with random little stars and tiny hearts everywhere.

RIP you. And RIP him as well. He wasn’t asleep this morning, he was all flustered and shy. Was your sketches some kind of flirting ? Even if he likes you as well, he just doesn’t know how to deal with this. But nor do you. Poor crushing babies. Good luck.

Denki is playful. No doubt on that. He’s such a flirt with everyone. It’s his personality. He can’t help it. But when he is in love, it gets worse. You won’t say that he was embarrassing you, but you were confused every  time he smiles or winks at you when you two are in class. In the dorms, he would randomly touch your hair, compliment your food, want to sit next to you on the couch… More than with the other girls. You like all those small attentions, but it makes you feel… insecure. Maybe paranoid. Definitely awkward. He gets flirtier and flirtier every day. Like he was waiting for something. But what ?

He was waiting for you to fall in love, and maybe confess to him afterwards. Even if it seems strange, he’s too shy to do it himself. Everyone is used to him being a tease, but how would you react if he started being romantic ? He’s afraid that you may reject him. Poor baby, don’t please, you would break his heart.

But he’s done waiting. You divert all his attention, he can’t think about anything else than you. So he decided to do something. He’ll let you know about his feelings, but not directly , so you none of you would be embarrassed if it doesn’t work. If you don’t like him, you will just ignore it, and he will be fixed. At least, he has to give it a try.

So, an evening, while everyone was in the common space of the dorm, he sneaked in your room, with a little chocolate box and a letter. A long letter explaining everything. His feelings, the fact that he can’t face you and would die collapsing if he ever tries to, and that you’re not obliged to answer. His heart was speed racing in his chest, and it nearly stopped when he noticed your desk board. There was plenty of little drawings pinned on it, from memo’s notes to random papers full of sketches.

Dozens of little Pikachus staring and smiling at him, or at everyone who would sit on the chair. So you. You were surrounded by drawings of the little electric mouse. He approached in order to ogle the details, and he saw it. Some mention of his name. Little “Denki” written here and there. He imagined you, daydreaming and nibbling the tip of your pencil, like you do in class or when you study, and thinking of him. This thought filled him with the courage he was lacking to tell you about his feelings. He just dropped what he was holding, before running to the common space. No time to waste. He already waited too long.

You were sitting on a high stool near the counter, chatting with others and watching Bakugou cooking. Like everyone, you turned your head when you heard quick footsteps arriving. Why was Denki running ?

“(Y/N) !”

You raised an eyebrow, and before you could answer, he pressed his lips against yours and kissed you with all the love he feels towards you. You don’t remember what happened next because your mind just… stopped working.

“What was that for ?”

“The pikachus”

Mina and Denki voices brought you back, before fainting again when you heard the word Pikachu.

_________________________________________

Heeeere :) Hope you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you want me to change or to fix anything, and feel free to request anything else.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki fluff #tamaki headcanons #deku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x y/n #izuku #izuku midoriya #deku hcs #deku headcanons #deku fluff #deku fic #izuku headcanons #midoriya headcanons #izuku fluff #midoriya fluff #midoriya x reader #denki kaminari #mha denki #denki hcs #denki headcanons #denki x y/n #denki x reader #denki fic #kaminari fluff #denki fluff

[adonis-koo]

Blue Spring

| 2 |

↳ Summary: Jeon Jungkook, only well known as the youngest (and hottest) dad at the daycare, he’s got it all, the looks, the sweetheart personality, the body, but here’s what gets everyone- he doesn’t wear a wedding ring. The only problem lies in his fickle one year old daughter that hates just about every daycare worker out there…Well…besides you that is. Which of course leads to Jungkook liking you just as much as his daughter…if not maybe a little too much.

Or in other words…You and Jungkook are secretly crushing on one another but too shy to admit it.

↳ Pairing: Single dad!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Daycare AU, Slice of life, copious amounts of fluff, a hair of angst, future smut

Word count: 4k

Previous | Next

“Oh my god, he asked you out?” Lisa gasped as she raised her brows, both shock and delight on her face as Chloe clapped her hands together. Pressing your hands to your cheeks you felt them flush as you glanced down at the kids table, everyone working on their finger paintings you had chosen as the creative activity for the day.

“I…” You nibbled against your lip before rubbing the back of your neck, “I wouldn’t necessarily call it that...He just um-! He just asked if we could hang out sometime with Mina...” They both groaned as you sunk in as best you could in the child's chair.

Chloe clacked her lips as she huffed, “Girl that’s his pathetic excuse to ask you out on a date. He just used his child to reel you in, and it worked didn’t it?” You crossed your arms, face still flushed despite your scoff.

Sure he might have added that in but you were sure if it came down to it you both would be fine without Mina there, right? Wait...you had no reason to be together if Mina wouldn’t be there...You swallowed thickly as you glanced at the table that had been covered in tarp to keep from getting messy, “...I would have said yes regardless…” It was the truth, you felt a certain amount of shame admitting that, was there a rule against dating one of your daycares dads? It had been well over a year since you signed on and you couldn’t even remember half the regulations and policies that pertained to workers, as it really didn’t matter when you actually began working.

Until now…

Mina had made a noise of complaint at your attention not being on her, her little fingers painted blue as she pointed at her splattered picture that looked more like a blob of color then anything else, you mustered a smile as you nodded, “Oh it looks so good Mina! Oh, can you add a little pink over here?” She had dipped her fingers into the yellow paint but she had spirit as she began to work on where you pointed.

“So you admit, you wanna bang him?” You scowled at Chloe as she held her hands up in defense, sure the kids had no clue what that meant but that didn’t mean you should just go around casually saying it!

Lisa puckered her lips before she and Chloe both started cackling, “Hey I’m not judging! If Seokjin wasn’t married i’d-”

“Shut up!” You covered your ears as you groaned, you could understand from an outside perspective, Jungkook was in your age range, he was obviously single given his passive comments about his...ex girlfriend? Ex wife? Partner? Not only that but he was insanely attractive, thick brows and fluffy dark hair, his jawline was both strong and sharp and his physic.

Jungkook had dropped her off one time for only a short few hours, picking her up after he had finished at the gym, where his hair was still damp with sweat and muscle bulging from his fitted shirt, your heart was ready to combust that day all while he kneeled down letting his little girl sit in his lap while inspecting her picture she had scribbled.

If one wasn’t interested in dating him they’d definitely want to sleep with him at least once. But this wasn’t your intention, no matter how much the idea made your body and face both warm to think about, “Guys, I’m not…! It’s not like that,” You lowered your voice as you sighed, clasping your hands on your lap as you glanced down at them, “I just wanna see where things go, and if things go well then awesome, and if not then no harm done…”

“Well babe you do you,” Lisa patted your shoulder, “I’m just glad Jisoo could cover for you so you can go out with lover boy when he picks up Mina,” Your face flushed once more as you sighed, choosing to ignore their laughs as you began to talk to Mina once more, even drawing a little heart on her paper with your own finger covered in pink paint to which she gurgled in excitement at.

Jisoo had eventually bounced through the door as she excitedly waved, “Hey guys,” You held your sigh at her brows wiggling your way as you all greeted her, taking a seat at the table as they immediately jumped into the gossip. Jisoo was the only other coworker filled in on all the juice besides your other two friends.

If any of the other workers heard, well...you’d rather not hear all of the older ladies' opinions.

You had a difficult time not flushing at the sight of Jungkook when he had came around two PM, Mina excited at his early arrival, “Hey babygirl,” He cooed softly at her as she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, picking her up he laughed softly, bouncing her a little before his eyes flickered on you, “Are you sure it’s okay to come?” He seemed concerned but also...excited? His eyes had a boyish gleam as he squeezed Mina making her giggle.

You nodded rapidly, “Yeah, one of my coworkers said she’d cover the rest of my shift so everything is good here! Are you ready to go?” You gave a tiny smile, rubbing your arms as you wrapped them around yourself. Jungkook nodded as he grabbed Mina’s backpack leading you out to his car which was surprisingly clean, had you not noticed how organized Mina’s backpack usually is you would have assumed he did it just for you.

But you had a feeling Jungkook was just a very organized and clean person, which was rather appreciated given your messy nature, “Oh here I can help, those buckles seem really tricky,” You laughed at Jungkook’s long fingers fumbling with Mina’s car seat buckles, you suddenly felt like it was a bad idea when you squeezed through the car door, your body pressed against Jungkook’s as you both awkwardly laughed as you grabbed the farther end buckle.

Mina gurgled in delight at the realization you were still with them as she bounced in her seat making it more difficult to buckle up, Jungkook shook his head roughly to try and get his hair out of his eyes as he pressed his brows together, “Ah this thing is always so difficult, I should really just get a new one, she’s almost too big for it anyways.”

“Oh here!” You tugged the buckle further just enough for Jungkook to click in as you both cheered in victory, before you suddenly cried, “Ow! Mina! Please let go,” Mina had grabbed a fist full of your hair before harshly tugging on it, rubbing your scalp as you gently pulled the hair from her grip.

You felt like you could breath when you and Jungkook squeezed out of the door, making a respectable amount of space as you both laughed a little, Jungkook opening the passenger door for you as you sat down, shifting in your seat a little nervously as you clicked in your seat belt.

“We’re not going anywhere fancy by the way,” Jungkook gave you a sheepish smile as he began driving, “There’s a really cool pizza place with a kids play area that Mina likes so I figured we’d go there, if you don’t mind…!”

Relaxing into your seat a little you gave a nod as you folded your hands into your lap, “Of course I don’t mind Jungkook!” You gave a small meek smile, “I’m sure it’s a great place.” Jungkook’s cheeks looked a little pink as he offered you a brief smile before returning his eyes to the road. He had admittedly been waiting so long for this moment, to finally pluck the courage to just ask you out.

You were nearly perfect, soft, sweet and most importantly, Mina loved you. He had just begun to give up finding someone due to how picky Mina was, and then he met you.

Sure things seemed a bit, awkward at first, but just like last time you both quickly fell into a rhythm of easy conversation, sitting at the table that was in the play area while Mina toddled around exploring, “Oh god I don’t know,” You both were laughing as you bashfully rubbed your face, smiling at your glass of soda as you shrugged meekly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong I love kids! I wouldn’t work with them if I didn’t but I mean, having kids of my own…? Does it count if my mom wants me to have kids?”

Jungkook nearly choked on his drink as he snorted, laughing softly as he shook his head, “You wanting kids and your mom wanting you to have kids is two totally different things. It’s okay to not want them, I didn’t think I’d ever want any either, then Mina came along and now she’s my whole world,” Jungkook’s eyes were soft as he gazed at the toddler fondly, “Mina was...a surprise baby,”

He admitted much to your surprise, you didn’t think he’d divulge such...sensitive information, he gave a sheepish smile at your expression, “You don’t have to look like that, it’s something that’s already been worked out. Like I said, Mina is my whole world and I’d never change a thing that happened, but she’s part of the reason we got a divorce…Oh jesus- am I making you uncomfortable?” Jungkook suddenly stumbled as if fully realizing what he was saying.

Coughing you rapidly shook your head, “No! I just...I didn’t want you to feel pressured to say anything, I mean, it’s your business, but if it’s something you don’t mind talking about then feel free to continue. I was just surprised, is all, I can’t imagine you not wanting kids honestly.” It was true, Jungkook treated Mina like she was the best thing in his life, the way he left her with the slight guilt in his expression every morning, the way his eyes lit up when he watched her toddle to him in excitement when he picked her up, it was written all over his face, he absolutely loved and adored her.

Laughing a little Jungkook swirled the ice in his drink around as he shrugged, “Sorry, I just, I don’t know I feel like clarity is probably appreciated on your end, I’d rather you not get involved without knowing all the details. Mina, wasn’t why we got divorced, not directly!” He suddenly swallowed thickly, doe eyes searching yours as if not wanting you to take his previous words the wrong way, “But her mom, she just has a lot of issues,” He gave a more humorless laugh this time as he kept his gaze on the table, “She’d accuse me of cheating anytime I was even slightly late getting home, really possessive and insecure, she lied when she said she was still on pill to try and...I don’t know, ‘secure’ me? And well....Mina came along.”

The frown tugged on your lips as you rested your head against your hand, “No I understand what you mean, about the whole divorce thing at least, I can’t imagine doing that to someone, given from past conversations I’m assuming you share joint custody?” Jungkook had occasionally mentioned in the past about dropping Mina off at her moms, though he always seemed slightly disgruntled at the idea.

Sighing Jungkook shrugged, “For now, nothing is set in paper, we just work a schedule out week to week,” He pucked his lips a little before letting his gaze meet yours, “But I’m hoping for full custody in the future, maybe I sound like an asshole but I don’t want Mina anywhere near her, she’s become really...psychotic since the divorce, always trying to convince me to ‘come back’, or threatening to get full custody herself, tons of crazy shit… So uh,” He ran a hand through his hair, an awkward smile quirking on his lips, “Hope I haven’t scared you off yet, this really isn’t a first date topic is it…?”

“Well taking your daughter out on your first date isn’t norm either but here we are,” You offered a relaxed smile, “I don’t mind, like you said, it is your past, but I’m not easily scared away.” For the first time, he smirked, making your body nearly go into shock and your face to suddenly flush as you glanced down at the table. God give you strength.

The evening outside of that moment was well spent and you had went back to Jungkook’s house to stay in for a movie afterwards before retiring home, Mina however was lounged out on the floor, her blanket spread beneath her while hugging her teddy bear, watching the disney movie in excitement with gurgles of enthusiasm, “Atleast someone is happy to see Mulan save China,” You clacked your tongue before laughing, letting out a yawn as you stretched out, hardly even noticing the way Jungkook’s arm had somehow wrapped around your shoulders. You felt your eyes tiredly begin to shut, god why did you always agree to come in for one of the early morning shifts?

“It’s one of her favorite movies,” Jungkook hummed, his nose crinkling a little at his daughters excitement, “You looked tired, do you want me to take you home?” He asked with a soft murmur, noticing you sleepily rub your eyes.

Waving your hand in dismal you replied, “No- no! I’ll go when the movie is over don’t worry, besides Mina would throw a fit if we paused it now.” There was certainly truth to your words, Mina never liked her TV time interrupted. Especially during Mulan. Chuckling softly Jungkook chose not to reply when you yawned again, your head falling against his shoulder as your eyes began to close. You couldn’t help it, he was just so damn warm.

Everything felt hazy as you hugged tightly against the firm yet warm figure, yawning as you nudged your nose along the odd feel of skin, where were you again? You nearly jumped away at the soft squeeze against your waist.

Your vision opening to the familiar sight of Jungkook’s living room, Mina no longer situated out in front of you and the TV long since turned off, the blinds had been drawn from last night letting the warm light stream in as you stiffened. Letting out a squeak at the bedheaded sight of Jungkook beneath you. Oh my god! You slept with him! Not sleep, slept with him but…!

Your face was throbbing as he let out a yawn, “Morning,” He stretched out, his hand stroking along your back making you squirm. Jungkook took immediate notice as he quickly released his grip on you, “I’m sorry.” You immediately got off him sitting an awkward distance away as he apologized, cheeks pink as you tugged at your hair.

Jungkook had parted his lips once more to speak but you had already stood up, “N-no! I should be the one apologizing! I….I-I um, I better get going! I forgot to tell my roommates I was going out- I'll see you later!” You fumbled before hurriedly making your way out of the living room, you could hear Jungkook sighing yet he didn’t call out for you. God why couldn’t you just play it cool for once?

You didn’t see Lisa and Chloe again until Friday morning where they nearly shouted at you for a ‘missed’ opportunity, “Girl you were sleeping on him!” Chloe tried to stress to you, “That was the perfect moment oh my god!”

They were mourning your loss at potential dick while you were meanwhile squirming in embarrassment, “Guys! This isn't about that! I just… I just wanted to get to know him better! I don’t want him to think that’s all I want.”

“Oh my god.” Lisa whispered under her breath before her attention was pulled to the two boys that had been fighting over who had the batman toy first, she immediately sprang into action as she walked over to deal with it.

Your attention however was drawn to the door that had opened, filtering in the ungodly loud cries that were all too familiar, Mina sobbing as she clung to Jungkook’s tired figure, Chloe clacked her tongue, “Are you just gonna ignore him now…?”

“No…” You swallowed thickly, feeling tension rise in your chest at Jungkook’s gaze immediately finding yours as he cooed to Mina, standing up you meekly walked over, giving a timid smile and feeling slightly guilty for running off on him nearly two days ago without a word since.

“See babygirl? She’s right here,” Jungkook cooed softly, Mina’s little lips trembling as fat tears rolled down her cheeks, peeking out from Jungkook’s shoulder before her sobs bubbled once more, arms stretching out too you as your lips tugged into a sad pout, “She’s missed you,” Jungkook murmured as he passed her off too you, “Extremely clingy since you left,” He gave a breathy chuckle though it sounded a little forced, “I…I really am sorry about what happened Y/n, I should have woken you up but you just looked so peaceful there and I-”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook swallowed thickly, his puppy-like gaze meeting yours with a level of timidness before dropping his gaze once more, “I just...I was a little embarrassed, that’s all Jungkook. It’s not your fault, I should have just gone home when I started getting tired.”

Mina’s tears had finally ceased as she sniffled, snot running down her nose and unto her lips as you felt a tiny smile tug on your lips, grabbing a tissue from the box on the counter as you wiped her nose, “...Did she really miss me?”

“She’s been waterworks since,” Jungkook laughed a little easier this time, rubbing the back of his neck as he continued, “I think she’ll sleep easy during nap time today.” You situated her upright on your hip as you gently brushed the strings of hair from her watery eyes as she dropped her head against your shoulder, she did look a lot more tired as of late, gurgling her eyes were already beginning to droop.

“So um…” Jungkook scratched the back of his neck gaining your attention once more as you noticed his cheeks becoming pink and he couldn’t stop fiddling with his hands, “Does that mean we’re still….erm...can we still see each other..- Not that you have too! I don’t want you to think I’m pushing or that you have too, but- I- I just think-”

“Of course Jungkook,” You gave a breathy laugh, feeling your cheeks begin to warm as well as you rubbed the left over streaks of tears off Mina’s cheeks, feeling a little bashful as you nibbled against your lip, meekily glancing up at his also timid figure, pushing the bangs from his eyes as he gave a blushing smile, “Okay...then I’ll...I’ll see you later then.”

You shuffled a little as you nodded, trying to not let your heart explode as he leaned in, kissing Mina’s forehead as her eyes watered, not crying but looking close too it as she grabbed his shirt with a whine, “No babygirl you’ll stay with Y/n okay?” He whispered encouragingly to her as she gurgled displeased, “I promise I’ll be back soon.” He pressed another kiss against her forehead before taking his departure.

Mina was not the least bit happy to be passed off and still without both of her favorite people causing her to screech and cry, throwing her head against the crook of your neck dramatically as you tutted softly, giving her a little bounce, “Don’t worry honey, he’ll be back soon.”

----

Things had been going surprisingly well after that mortifying hiccup on your part. Jungkook and you would routinely go out every Friday after he picked Mina up and the three of you would eat out together, occasionally on a Monday night you’d all watch a movie together at his house. It was nice and you both had become far more acquainted with one another and casual.

What you hadn’t expected today though, was well...this...”Uh, I’m sorry ma’am but you’ll need to put Jungkook on the phone to verify pick up since you aren’t written off as Mina’s mother on his sign up form.”

This woman, was presumably Mina’s mother, or as she introduced herself as Seo Yeon, and you wouldn’t lie, you were a little intimidated. She was well dressed in a business suit and clutched her Prada bag as if it was a cheap off brand, her sunglasses atop her head showing off her annoyed, irritated expression, “I am Mina’s mother! I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. I should be allowed to check my own child out.”

You did your best to try to hide your expression that desperately wanting to contort between a cringe- for her swearing loudly in a daycare and irritation for the fact that you just explained why that wasn’t allowed and of course, fear because Seo Yeon was definitely a scary woman when she was angry.

Mina seemed non pulsed in your arms despite being in front of her mom as her head twisted to try and get a glimpse at the TV in the room that was still playing Peppa Pig, one of her new favorites, “Ma’am, I just told you, Jungkook didn’t put you on his sign up form when he registered into First Steps daycare center, meaning you don’t have legal permission to sign Mina out, I’d be breaking policy and could be potentially fired if I let you take her now. Please call Jungkook and we’ll get this sorted out. I can even set you up on the form as long as Jungkook is present for it.”

“What’s going on here?” Just on time Jungkook had opened the door to the main check in room where you stood, the gate behind you closed as all the other kids played, his brows were furrowed at the sight of you with Mina, rather confused at first before his eyes narrowed on Seo Yeon who whipped around, anger twisting on her face as she accusingly pointed a finger at you, “Telling this idiot to let me check our child out Jungkook, we agreed I would be picking Mina up at daycare today- I knew I should’ve picked the daycare this place is so shotty!”

Your lips parted in offence at her words, how presumptuous of her! You were following the policy and even if you wanted to help her out you were to keep Mina here by law until her assigned guardian- Jungkook returned, unless a special permission slip had been signed by him stating otherwise.

“It’s Wednesday Seo Yeon...” Jungkook looked a little embarrassed by his ex wife's actions, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed, “We changed our plans for you to pick her up tomorrow, I told you I needed to fill out a permission slip today so you’d be able to- remember?” His reminder seemed to jog her memory, her cheeks becoming a little red and embarrassed.

Yet Seo Yeon offered no apology to you, instead she grabbed onto Jungkook’s bicep as her lips tugged into a little pout, a complete one eighty from the demon you just witnessed, “Oh baby I’m sorry, you know how forgetful I can be at times! That worker just made me so mad though! I should be on the form as well so I can pick Mina up at any time in case of an emergency.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched a little and you could sense a little annoyance rising in him before he sighed through his nose, “Yeah I know, look- can we talk about this later? Mina has a doctor's appointment that I need to run her too so I don’t wanna be late.”

“Oh I can come with you! I think it’s important I know Mina’s health,” Seo Yeon butted in as Jungkook already whirled around to check Mina out at the counter where the desk worker was, “Besides I haven’t seen her since Monday, I think she’s missed mommy.” Seo Yeon cooed before abruptly plucking her from your arms.

You found your voice catching in your throat in objection at hearing Mina’s whimper, wiggling in her mom's arm as her mom ignored her and only cooed, suddenly glaring at you before turning to face Jungkook who ran a hand through his hair, not looking like he wanted to say yes but not having a reason to say no, “Alright- then can you go out and get her in her car seat? My cars at the far end in the lot.”

Seo Yeon appeared victorious as she plucked the keys from his hands and trotted outside with Mina who continued fussing, “I’m really sorry Y/n…” Jungkook glanced at the ground, looking embarrassed once again, “She can get a bit rude at times with customer service.”

“It’s okay, really,” You forced a smile from your lips, you wouldn’t lie, the fact that he really let her just hound into you was a bit….off putting. You could clearly see why this woman was his ex-wife, but couldn't he have...? What were you saying? You weren’t even officially a thing with Jungkook, “I- uh…” You let the smile drop all too easily as you sighed running a hand through your hair, unable to stop the annoyance in your voice as you muttered, “I need to get back to the other kids, I’ll see you later Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked a little helpless, eyes in distress at your annoyed figure not even giving him time to try and recover from his previous words as you closed the gate behind you walking back into the room.

On one hand you understood where he was coming from, but she was so blatantly rude to you! After she ripped the poor desk worker a new one she had nearly screamed to be allowed to see her child and given you were the only daycare worker that Mina liked...God what an unpleasant woman.

“Did you finally get the demon under control?” Chloe lowered her voice as she peered behind you, groaning as you nodded your head. Trying to get the image of Seo Yeon clasping Jungkook’s arm like she owned him out of your head, you knew you both weren’t an actual item but still. Rubbing your head you explained to her what had happened as Lisa joined the conversation, both angry in your defense.

But that was his ex wife after all. You couldn’t help but deflate a little at the idea, if you did get involved in Jungkook, that would always be a plague in the back of your mind and you couldn’t put off the question anymore now that you had both a name and a face to an important figure in Jungkook’s life.

God no wonder you never went out on dates anymore.

Note: I hope you guys are enjoying this lil series so far!! It makes my heart uwu! The good news is I may have underestimated the word count so next chapter is going to be a little longer and there might be a fifth part of the series! Anyways let me know what you guys think!! 🖤

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jungkook au #bts au #single dad jungkook

[page-doctor-bekker]

Casa de las Flores (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) so... there is no nsfw in here. nothing that wouldn't be allowed in a pg-13 film, which is typically my policy: if i can see it in a pg-13 film, i can write it and put it on my tumblr :) anyways, enjoy. this takes place right after this.

-

-

Casa de las Flores looked small on the outside, a cute storefront with a few burnt out letters and a neon “OPEN” sign on the door, but the quaint look was merely a facade. On the inside, the dining room was large and lively, with a full-service bar and bright decorations. They were seated almost right away, sandwiched between an elderly couple and a family with a toddler and a baby.

“I’m Rosie, I’m going to be taking care of you two today,” The woman smiled, and set the menus down, “Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Ava glanced over the drink menu, skipping right down to the margaritas section.

“Yeah, can I get a strawberry margarita, frozen?” Ava requested, and Rosie nodded, scribbling down on her pad.

“And for you?”

“Uh…”

Crap, is she paying? Or am I? I should get something cheap, just play it safe… Wait, she said she was going to buy me dinner. She’s definitely paying. God, I don’t want to cost her too much…

“A uh… Err… Sparkling watermelon margarita on the rocks, hold the salt,” She blurted out, and Ava smiled at her, which was totally not helping the nerves.

“I’ll get those right out,” Rosie flipped her pad closed, and left the table.

“Really? No salt?” Ava queried, giving a slight chuckle.

“I always wipe it off when I get the salt,” Sarah admitted, “It just… I don’t know. It’s supposed to enhance the lime or something, but I’m just not into it. The bitterness just ruins the drink for me.”

“Huh,” Ava flipped the page on the menu, “I never knew that about you.”

“I mean, it’s not like I advertise my margarita preferences everywhere I go.”

Ava laughed, “Really? That’s my favorite activity!” She taunted, looking up at the other woman.

“Maybe I should give it a try,” Sarah remarked.

“What are you going to get?” Ava suddenly changed the subject, still flipping through the pages of the laminated menu, “I was looking at that baja grilled fish tacos but…” She winked, “I’m not sure if fish is the right choice on a first date.”

What the fuck. WHAT the fuck. What the FUCK.

Sarah laughed, although the comment took her off guard, “I was thinking of the enchiladas de espinaca, but I haven’t entirely ruled out the al pastor either.”

“Spinach? You’re bolder than I am,” Ava chuckled.

“I’ll only get it if you promise to let me know if I have some on my teeth.”

“Deal.”

A few quiet minutes later, Rosie was back, “How are we doing, ladies? Need another minute?” She asked, as she set the drinks down, “Frozen strawberry margarita, Watermelon margarita on the rocks, no salt.”

“I think we’re all set,” Ava raised an eyebrow at Sarah, who nodded.

Enchiladas de espinaca is cheaper.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Ladies first,” Ava winked.

“Uh…” Sarah gave a nervous laugh, “I will get the enchiladas de espinaca.”

“Great choice,” Rosie scribbled her order down, “And for you?”

“I will get the steak fajitas with flour tortillas, please,” She closed her menu, “Oh, and can we get a round of Mexican candy shots and a round of tequila shots?”

“Of course, I’ll have that right out.”

“Shots?” Sarah inquired.

“Shots.”

Is she trying to get me drunk? Ava did call an uber to get here, maybe she just wanted a drinking friend…

At the table next to them, the baby started crying. Sarah watched as the mother cooed and shushed, and eventually apologized to her party and left the restaurant with the baby. Ava sipped her drink, before speaking.

“Would you ever have kids?”

Sarah’s heart just about stopped.

She stammered, “I- uh… I don’t know, maybe. I always wanted to be a mom when I was younger,” She smiled, “I even tried to breastfeed my babydolls.”

Ava gave a hearty laugh, the kind of laugh that makes you feel like the lights have just been turned on, and you could finally see in a dark room.

“Didn’t every little girl?” She laughed some more, and Sarah joined in.

Yeah, but little boys didn’t.

“I don’t know,” Ava continued, “Giving birth sounds so painful,” She mused, “I had a pregnancy scare in high school, a false positive from a cheap piece of shit test, and all I could think about was how much it was going to hurt.”

“Oh my God,” Sarah chuckled, “Not even about what you were going to do, how your parents would react?”

“Not even a little bit.”

It was Sarah’s turn to let out a big laugh, imagining the strong, confident surgeon stress over pain, rather than the practical side of a teenage pregnancy.

“How DID your parents find out?”

She snorted, “They didn’t!”

Sarah laughed even harder, and a couple near them turned their heads to stare.

Rosie brought both rounds of shots; The tequila, and whatever a Mexican candy shot was. The tequila shot was a yellow-y caramel color, with salt and a lime on the rim. The Mexican candy shot was a pinkish red shot with what seemed to be Tajin salt around the rim, and a lime as well.

Ava nodded at the shots, “Which first?”

“The pink one,” Sarah reached for it, “What’s in it?” She gave it a sniff.

“It’s watermelon-y,” Ava grinned, “Bottoms up?”

Sarah clinked her shot against Ava’s, and threw it back. The Tajin shocked her taste buds, and the first taste of the actual shot was sweet, like biting into a cool, crisp watermelon on a warm summer day. Almost as soon as she tasted the watermelon, she tasted what seemed like hot sauce, and tart lime juice.

“Ugh, I love those,” Ava dramatically rolled her eyes back, before grinning at Sarah, who gave a smile in return.

“I’m a little scared of the tequila,” Sarah admitted.

“What? Bad night in college?” Ava teased, and Sarah blushed with embarrassment.

“I’ve… Actually never had tequila.”

“So why are you scared? You can wipe the salt off, you know.”

The tequila shot didn’t necessarily disgust her, but she didn’t enjoy it. The salt made her stick her tongue out in disgust, and the alcohol burned on her tongue. She looked up at Ava through watery eyes, and Ava was looking at her with an expression that Sarah couldn’t quite understand.

Ava clapped, and Sarah coughed, and their food arrived. Sarah went tunnel-vision on her food, and Ava’s laughter through their conversations was almost more intoxicating than the alcohol. By the time they finished dinner, Sarah was on her third, maybe fourth margarita. Ava coerced her into another tequila shot, and they shared a plate of churros. Sarah had even tried Ava’s, wiping off the salt from her rim.

The bill was well over a hundred dollars, most of it being alcohol, and Ava paid it with eight twenty-dollar bills without a second thought, and dragged Sarah out by the elbow.

“Y’know,” Sarah slurred, “I thought you hated me.”

Ava’s face fell, “I know.”

“I thau’ you’d neva’ talk t’ me again,” She mumbled, leaning into Ava.

“I know.”

“I was so so sad.”

“I know.”

They were quiet. The only sounds were the Chicago streets. The sounds melted together in Sarah’s head, and she felt miles taller than she was, and miles shorter at the same time. She felt like she might float away, like Ava’s arm was the only thing keeping her on Earth. Sarah was a balloon, but Ava was the string.

“Wanna go back to my place?” Ava whispered, seeming stone cold sober even though they had had the same amount to drink. Sarah was infatuated with her - Everything she did seemed to make her more and more attractive.

Sarah had half a mind to say no, but nodded eagerly.

“You bought me dinner,” Sarah sighed happily, “You’re so nice to me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Mmhmm…” Sarah agreed, “Because surgeons make more than psychiatrists.”

Ava laughed loudly, stumbling a bit herself, “How are you going to pay off all your debt if you buy dinner, miss fresh-out-of-medical-school?”

“Maybe I don’t hate the salt,” Sarah blurted out, ignoring Ava’s joke.

The two walked arm in arm, each of them letting out a giggle every few steps. Ava’s sober front slowly fell, leaving her just as messy as Sarah. They each did their fair share of holding each other up, until the doorsteps of the apartment building Ava lived in.

They stopped.

Ava stared into Sarah’s eyes, as if trying to puncture her soul with an IV needle. Ava had brown eyes - The kind that filled your heart with warmth like you’d just downed a hot cup of coffee between patients - And Sarah knew she had noticed it before, but she couldn’t remember when she realized how beautiful they were.

Ava’s breath, that once smelled like her chapstick and chewing gum, now smelled of strawberry margaritas, tequila shots, and salsa. Her mascara was mildly smeared, not from crying, but from God knows what antics the two had gotten up to. Her teeth were starkly white when she smiled, and made Sarah wonder if they were naturally that white, or if she had treated them to get there.

Ava’s lips made contact with Sarah’s before Sarah even knew they were heading that direction, and she simultaneously tensed her whole body and felt like she was melting to the floor.

Someone’s going to see, someone’s going to see us and hurt me, someone’s going to know-

Ava pulled off with a smack, and smiled coyly, “Wanna head upstairs?”

Sarah nodded, eyes wide. She felt short of breath, and anxiety bubbled in her stomach. Does she mean what I think she means?

She tripped twice heading up the stairs - The elevator was out of order. Ava held on to her, drunk but still more coordinated than Sarah could ever hope to be. Sarah saw stars, and a halo around Ava’s head, convincing her drunk mind that the blonde woman beside her was truly an angel.

When they got to Ava’s apartment, they were kissing before they even closed the door. Ava pushed Sarah against the wall, tearing her jacket off first and then Sarah’s. Somehow, with her eyes closed, she still managed to hang them up on the coat hooks beside their heads.

Ava pulled Sarah’s hair tie out, and tangled her hands in the woman’s curly locks. She needed her lips like she needed oxygen to breathe, and neither of them wanted to let go. Sarah felt things shift between her legs, making her attraction to Ava apparent to her, but even in her intoxicated state she still managed to feel the pang of dysphoria, which made her nauseous. Regardless, she didn’t falter, no matter the discomfort deep in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before,” Sarah breathed out between kisses.

Oh God.

“Honored to be your first,” Ava responded, equally as preoccupied.

Ava rested her hands on Sarah’s waist, hiking her shirt up slightly in the process. She shivered as Ava’s cold hands made contact with her skin, and her southern equipment stirred, making her dysphoric yet again and only contributing to the nausea. At this point, she couldn’t tell if she was truly nauseous from the alcohol, or just so dysphoric and anxious that her stomach couldn’t tell the difference. She powered through, distracting herself in the warmth of Ava’s mouth and the light touch from her fingertips.

Ava creeped up Sarah’s ribcage until she could feel the underwire of her bra, and then slipped her hands under. Sarah was suddenly very aware of her lower regions, her gaff, and how thin her scrubs were. She would be screwed if something slipped out.

Note to self:

Ava kissed down her neck.

Write a good review for this gaff later.

Ava started unbuttoning her shirt, kissing the newly bare areas as she went. Once she reached the bottom, her lips darted back up to her collarbone, sucking a hickey into the sensitive area.

Sarah’s job was to keep breathing, and not let the panic get the better of her.

This is fine. Adults do this. I’m an adult. She doesn’t know, and she wont find out because I won’t let this go that far.

Ava’s lips captured Sarah’s again.

I won’t let this go far enough to be a problem.

Ava’s hands trickled down to the button on her pants, and Sarah took in a sharp breath.

Ava looked up quizzically, “Do you want this?”

Yes, but I can’t.

Sarah didn’t respond, hoping her fear was not evident in her eyes.

The surgeon put one hand on Sarah’s cheek, and relaxed her other hand from her waistband, “You don’t have to. I won’t be mad.”

Sarah nodded, then shook her head, “I- uh, I don’t want to.”

The anxiety in her chest fizzled out as Ava stepped away, and as much as she craved intimacy, Sarah knew this was better. Ava gave her a warm smile, and held out her hand.

Sarah took it, receiving a squeeze from her, “I can get an Uber or a Lyft…”

Ava looked taken aback, “Why? You can stay, you know. You think I’m going to kick a drunk girl out at,” She glanced at her phone, “Eleven o’ clock at night?”

Sarah smiled sheepishly, and stood awkwardly for a second, “Uh… Where’s your bathroom?”

“Oh! That door right there,” She pointed to a modern white door, with silver fixtures. Sarah stumbled towards the bathroom, and practically fell into the room.

She closed the door behind her, and leaned against it. She slumped down, pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them.

After a few minutes of deep breathing exercises, she opened the door and hollered, “Ava?!”

“Yes?” The aforementioned woman looked up from the couch, where she was sipping a glass of water and playing a game on her phone.

“Is it okay if I shower?”

“Yeah! Let me get you something to sleep in, I think we’re similar in size.”

Sarah closed the door as Ava got up, and a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Sarah opened it, and Ava handed her a stack of folded clothes, with two towels on the bottom, “I didn’t know if there were any towels in there, so if there are, just leave any extras under the sink.”

Sarah nodded, and Ava gave her a tight-lipped smile, and left.

Sarah closed the door.

It seemed that Sarah was given a bright pink muscle tee, with the words “Cardiac care is a work of heart” in all caps, with an anatomical heart image, and a pair of loose black sweatpants. She rolled her eyes at the shirt, surprised that Ava would own it. It seemed silly.

Sarah stripped, turned the water on as cold as it could go, and jumped in.

-

-

(A/N) thx for reading ! lmk what you thought <3

#chicago med #sarah reese #ava bekker #reesker #transfemme!sarah #enjoy! #tbh i went through a lot of questioning as to whether i should post this #but i love it too much not to

[pythagoreanwhump]

Eyes Closed, By My Side

AO3 link

After helping Anastasia vivisect a rebel spy, Kai has to make sure they survive the resulting infection long enough to confess. They didn't want to think about any other reason they were being so gentle, not when their head was still cloudy with emotions they weren't ready to face yet.

Thank you to @sopwithwhump for helping me with the idea and making it happen!

CW: Aftermath of torture (vivisection, but not explicitly mentioned), intimate whumper, dissociation (again not explicitly mentioned), very very brief (like half a sentence) mention of compulsive handwashing and what could be read as denial of that

Kai wasn’t one to startle easily, something to be expected given the nature of their job, unless there was something on their mind that bothered them deeply. Today wasn’t the type of day where they would admit to themself what they were thinking about when the phone rang, though.

They were rarely phoned for anything important, most of their superiors opting to use a pager in case Anastasia had them out of the office, but it would be undisciplined for them to not answer the phone immediately. The voice on the other end was one that they have heard before, but not familiar enough to recognize over a call.

“Lieutenant Waykes?” They heard the voice ask. They must’ve mumbled something in affirmation, though they couldn’t quite realize what they said. The voice continued. “The prisoner needs surgery. We just need a confirmation that you want them alive.”

This time, they distinctly heard themself say yes, but they didn’t think they knew what it was supposed to be about. They found themself pacing to the door of their office, an open file still clutched in their hand, before they stopped themself from rushing out without even knowing where they wanted to go. They set the file down, pressing with their thumb and smoothing out the corner where their grip had left a crease, and anxiously adjusted the position of everything on their desk, and then their uniform, before heading toward the med wing.

The place was empty, a large room set aside for prisoners with a couple of cots along the back wall next to windows covered with grey curtains. A small desk sat in the corner with a locked shelf next to it, and inside sat a few bottles with their labels obscured with the thick plastic screens of the doors. Certainly, it would be better for a prisoner to be brought here for help than to be in the cells being tortured everyday, but the place was no less gloomy. Swallowing thickly, they tried the door that they knew connected this room to the main medical office. It didn’t budge, and it was clear from the uniformly dull copper knob that it hadn’t been touched in a long while, but there was a tint of dark red hidden behind it, and a splotch on the old yellow paint of the door that looked faintly orange, brown even.

They left through the front door again, pulling it shut behind them, and somehow it felt like the hallway had brightened up as they did. The outside of it was painted a shade of green only slightly lighter than the walls, and with a few more steps down the hall, it was easy to forget the room even existed. The next room had double doors, propped open with two battered pieces of triangular wood, and the sunlight spilled through the tall windows, but the lights were still on overhead, buzzing with their harsh white glow.

“Can I help you?” The nurse sitting by the door barely looked up only to glance at the small silver bar on their shoulder. Kai stared back, scanning over the table and the pile of papers, more organized than their own desk ever had been even on their first day, and the nurse’s neat uniform, an ironed crease down the middle of the red cross printed on a clean white armband sitting right below the sewn-on double chevrons of his rank.

“Hm?” Kai responded, hoping they hadn’t zoned out long enough for it to be weird. “Right. I’m looking for a prisoner I sent over there yesterday.” They gestured toward the other room, and there was a shelf where they remembered the door being. “There’s no one there.”

“They’re in surgery,” The nurse replied. “It’s all hands on deck over there. There’s not much staff assigned to prisoners in the first place. It’ll take a few hours.”

Kai thanked him with a nod, asking him to tell the others to give them a call when it was done, and walked out, making the trip back to their office. They hoped no one would stop them and assign them some other task, walking close to the walls with their eyes down, their finger skimming against the rough chalky paint as they moved, feeling the friction that soon turned from grounding into numbness.

They sat in front of their desk and picked up the same file as before, laying it in the center of their desk so the spine aligned with the knob on the drawer right in the middle. The crease from their grip before was still there, sharper on the left than the right, and they smoothed it out with the side of their left wrist while they picked up their pen with their right hand.

The same grey walls that they had usually felt secure within suddenly felt too close, too tight, and they knew they needed a change of scenery. They would never admit how often they felt like this in their officer after they came back from the cells, how the walls were painted the same color and how they could very well end up in the other type of room with a single misstep. They found themself thinking that they would prefer even the gloom of a storage room that had been converted to heal only to prolong suffering.

They tucked a stack of files under their arm and once again walked to the med wing, opening the door to find the room as empty as before. They found a chair by the window, setting their stuff down on it and reaching to draw open the curtains. They expected to find dust floating in the rays of light that spilled in, but there was nothing. They didn’t know if they should be glad that the place was at least clean or hate it for how dead it seemed.  They spread their things out on the windowsill, trying to ignore now the peeling paint making crinkling noises as they wrote. Leaning against the side of the window and pushing their work into the sunlight to see better, they almost felt like a young student posing for an aesthetic photo of themself studying.

The thought occurred to them that they still had no idea where the operating rooms were when they heard a bed being wheeled down the hallway toward them. It can’t be far, but they never bothered to look for them. They had little time to wonder, anyway, the doctor seeing them in the room and directing the others to push the bed right to them, rolling the rebel, still unconscious, onto the closest cot.

“Here,” She tossed them a pair of cuffs, grabbing the rebel’s hand on her side and attaching it to the railing of the bed. “Get them cuffed up. They’ll be waking soon. And close the curtains. They always try to look out and plan to escape if they can see through the windows. Every one of them.”

“This one definitely would,” Kai looked down at the rebel who looked defiant even while unconscious. “I’m sorry for the trouble, ma’am. Captain Kolettis didn’t tell me it would be this bad.”

The doctor sighed, stepping aside to let a nurse put in a new IV. “You know, we don’t usually expend so many resources for prisoners. We had to pull staff from the normal care team today. I’m a doctor, and I will save their lives when I need to, but they don’t deserve to take up medicine and manpower that are meant for our own soldiers. This one lost their right to it when they decided to betray us. Next time you want someone alive, make some effort yourself instead of dumping all the work on us.”

“Captain Kolettis doesn’t care about what Captain Ridley would do if she killed the rebel, but I would prefer not to cross her after she made me promise I would get a confession from her prisoner.” Kai moved away from the bed, following the doctor to her desk. “I’ll get them out of your hair as soon as they’re good to go back to a cell.”

The doctor looked at them in silence, wariness showing on her face. “They’ll have to be here for a while. If you want a confession from them, you’re gonna have to wait. They’ll be too delirious to say anything for a day or two.”

Kai hummed, rushing back to the prisoner’s bedside when they heard the cuffs clanging against the railings of the bed as they started waking up. “Do you want me around or would I just get in your way?” It seemed like in the movies, people always tried to rip their IV out as they were half-aware, waking up in a hospital, but the rebel just struggled, the edge of the cuffs digging into their wrists.

“Sure,” She scribbled something at the bottom of a document that looked too messy to be a signature, even for a doctor’s handwriting. She pushed it under a clip and snapped it closed, looking around as if looking for something. “I’ll leave one nurse here, then, so it doesn’t get too crowded. Do whatever you want. I don’t care, as long as you don’t damage them up too much and then need me to fix it again.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kai muttered, not looking up at her as she left the room. They cupped the struggling rebel’s face, pressing them down into the bed and whispered against their forehead. “Hey. I know you can’t really understand me right now, but you know I don’t like so much struggling.” They weren’t able to tell before from the fleeting touches on their wrist, but now that they were close, they could feel how hot their skin burned. “I’ll have to punish you later if you keep struggling like this, okay?”

Kai didn’t know if it were the threat or the cool touch of their hand on the rebel’s forehead, although they doubted either would be really effective. They stilled, arms falling limp, but they jerked their head to the side, trying to escape Kai’s touch. They mumbled something, but Kai shushed them, thumb brushing over their lips as they leaned in to whisper another threat in their ear. “It’s okay, you’re alright,” Kai said when they’ve quieted again. “They just had to do surgery to clean you up so you wouldn’t die on me. Anastasia should’ve been more careful with you, you’re too beautiful to be killed like that.”

“No Kai please-” The word “surgery” seemed to have sent them into a frenzy. They arched off the bed, then collapsed down and tried to turn onto their side and curl up. Kai grabbed their shoulders and shoved the point of an elbow into their chest to force them down. Their eyes were open, but they were more feral than clear. “You can’t, please, don’t let them cut me open again, Kai.”

That seemed to take all the strength they had in them in their current state. Their eyes slipped closed and their shoulders trembled with quiet almost-sobs, but there was nothing left in them to struggle anymore. Kai ran their hand through their sweat-soaked hair, picking away the tangles. A whimper escaped their tightly pressed-together lips when Kai placed the back of their hand on their forehead, but soon their both hands were warm and the rebel was still burning hot.

“Private,” Kai waved at the nurse where he sat, probably just catching up on paperwork like everyone else. “Is there something I could use to cool them down a bit? I might as well while I’m here.”

“Yes sir. You probably should if you want them to recover fast so you can ask them questions.” They pointed to the sink. “Would you be alright grabbing it yourself? There’s rags in the top cabinet, and get one wet with cold water.”

“Thank you, private,” They nodded, and they didn’t remember themself getting up and walking over, just that the next moment they had the rough fabric in their hands, held under the running water. They stayed there for much longer than they had to, feeling their fingertips go numb under the cold water. They knew people maladapted to this job for whom washing their hands all the time was the only way to chase away the feeling of invisible blood forever sticking to their hands, but for them it was simply easier to let go of their thoughts while they felt the flowing water take it away from them. They glanced at the nurse again, but he paid them no mind, hopefully not nothing how long they stood by the sink.

They wrung out the cloth and used it to wipe their hands, folding it into a neat rectangle and laying it on the rebel’s forehead. They mumbled something incoherent and Kai hummed as if agreeing, taking hold of the rebel’s hand with their own, rubbing their cold fingers into their palm. “Does that feel better? Just relax and sleep now, you won’t be hurting so much when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Their eyelids cracked open a bit, but Kai doubted they could see the reassuring smile they flashed them. “I don’t… wanna hurt anymore…”

“Mhmm,” Kai nodded, squeezing their hand and feeling them squeeze back gently. They couldn’t promise them no more pain, but at least nothing would be as bad as what Anastasia had done. What they had helped to do. Flipping over the wet cloth, they muttered a quiet apology, but the rebel was already unconscious again. They bore witness to their suffering, and now they will stay by their side in their vulnerability. It wasn’t much, but at least they could convince themself they did what they could.

#whump writing #my writing #sickfic #caretaking #can't believe I'm doing this lmao #OC: Kai #fevers #infection #uh yeah idk go find my shitposting about it in the ao3 notes #it's actually a really nice one #Kai is not really having a good time but like #they're not the one getting vivisected so they can't really complain

[thetomorrowshow]

Slower Than Words Ch. 19

First  -  Previous  -  Next

Don’t have the energy to edit this chapter. Let me know if there are any grievous errors.

cw: food, angst

~

Patton was antsy all the way home from the hospital. Home—it was such a strange word. He didn't even know what it looked like. When he said 'home' to himself, he pictured the one-floor Haven house on the dirt street, lined on either side with identical houses. He pictured Father in that living room, wearing his lab coat and Haven-made clothes, sitting next to a picture of Patton's mother. When Father told him he was going to have his own room again, he pictured Virgil.

Patton didn't want his own room.

Remus, a man that Patton remembered seeing in the Haven, was also living at this so-called home. Remus smiled a lot, and when he first came to visit Patton in the hospital, had given him a teddy bear. Patton wasn't sure how to feel about this. Very few children in the Haven had toys past the age of ten, and he had only ever had a homemade jump rope and a doll made from scraps of rags. He remembered jealously watching other children play outside with their few toys and stuffed animals traded for from Outsider salesmen, but Father never got him one, despite his pleading. It was weird to have one now, in a world where it was not a novelty item, but commonplace.

Patton wondered how Remus had found out he'd wanted one.

The buildings around them were varied, huge. Patton was feeling rather sick from the car ride, but continued to look out the window in amazement. What did people need these huge buildings for? What did they do there?

Finally, they arrived at the apartment building Father called home. Father stopped the car—there were maybe two cars in all of Haven, and Patton couldn't help but wonder where Father had learned to drive—and gave Patton a nervous smile, to which Patton responded in kind. All his possessions were whatever clothes from the Haven that Father had grabbed (which were now too large), Virgil's hoodie, and his new teddy bear. He carried the bear with him as they entered the building, the clothes in a black plastic bag in Father's hand.

The building stunk, an acrid scent that made Patton scrunch up his nose in distaste. It was dark too, seemingly lit solely by the glass panes around the door that they had entered through. They had not come in the main door of the building, which was around the other side. The door they entered led onto a landing, stairs hugging the walls above and below. Was this really home?

Father led Patton straight up a staircase, bypassing every door as Patton stopped beside them. Eventually, when Patton stopped after the sixth staircase, panting for breath, Father went down the hall and unlocked and opened a door on the left side, then ushered Patton through it.

This place was certainly nicer than the rest of the building that Patton had seen so far. It smelled a little like bleach, but mostly like cinnamon or nutmeg (with the stench of the rest of the building in the background). Patton had always loved the smell of cinnamon. Had Father really remembered that, and somehow made this place smell like something comforting to Patton?

The door opened into a living room, which had clearly been hastily cleaned. A pillow and a blanket were haphazardly draped over the small couch, and the only other piece of furniture was a faded yellow armchair, not at all matching the peeling leather of the couch.

A kitchen led off from the living room, a yellowed refrigerator overlooking cramped counter tops. Rectangular boxes were haphazardly balanced atop the appliance. The lights were off in the kitchen, and as Patton strained to get a better look at the tiny space, Father led him down a thin hall.

One door off the hall led to a bathroom, which looked pretty average as bathrooms go. It was similar to the one they'd had in the house back at the Haven, a one-cube shower and a small toilet with a cabinet under the sink.

Once again Father led him past, into a room that was best described as quaint. The bed was thin, the mattress cushier than he expected as he sat on it experimentally. The floor, like the floor of the living room and hall, was carpeted in a scratchy grey. The walls were a pale off-white, the only break in them being the doorless closet. There was a wobbly-looking chair beside a squat desk, and Patton smiled to see a stack of paper and a pack of colorful markers on the desk. It was the most homey detail he'd noticed so far—there was no art on the walls, no overstuffed bookshelves, no color anywhere. Perhaps he'd be able to brighten the place up.

The room was bare otherwise, just like the rest of the apartment. Patton took a moment to run his hand against the wall, trying to ignore how he was shaking. He was exhausted, and really really hungry, but he couldn't tell anyone because—

No. He could tell Father. Nobody was going to hurt him here.

Patton looked to Father, only to see him biting his lip anxiously. He raised his eyebrows in a question, shrugging a bit, as if to say, I'm sorry it isn't more.

Patton nodded, forcing himself to smile as brightly as possible. Father's shoulders slumped into a more relaxed position. With a quick explanation of getting food, Father left the room, carefully placing the bag of clothes on the chair.

What Patton wanted to do was flop onto the bed and fall asleep, but he shook off the urge. It wouldn't do to let his clothes get wrinkled. Father had never let him leave the house with messy clothing (something in his head pointed out that Father's clothes were wrinkled and the top button of his shirt was undone today, the equivalent of him staying in bed all day).

The chair had a sticker on it, which Patton stared at. It had numbers scribbled on it—12.99—and said something about 'no refunds'. Patton assumed it was money; the Haven-dwellers had never really had money, as it wasn't used in a society where everything was shared. Father had taught him about money, and so had Virgil, but it had never quite clicked. This was a price of some sort? Father had to pay that number for this chair? Hopefully it wasn't too much.

Patton removed his few articles of clothing from the bag and hung them up with the handful of cheap clothing hangers in the closet. He pulled out Virgil's hoodie last of all. If he closed his eyes, he just pretend that he was at home. There was a batch of cookies in the oven, bringing that cinnamon smell, and he was holding one of his own shirts. Father was in the kitchen, poring over one of his work projects. Any minute now, he would come to get Patton for dinner. After dinner, Father would pull his book of maps from behind the bookshelf and tell him tales of faraway lands, like Mongolia and Italy and Cincinnati. Home was warm, wasn't scary, was safe.

And now, as he thought back, Patton remembered nights where Father would spend dinner glancing out the window, then would send Patton directly to bed. There were nights when Father would come home and practically drag Patton out the door to eat dinner at the communal dining hall, which they normally only did on Sundays. There were nights where Father wouldn't make dinner at all, instead lock himself in his room and not come out until the next morning. There were nights where Father fidgeted with his tie and glasses, clearly upset by something.

Home had never been safe.

Patton opened his eyes, saw the blandness of his new room. The apartment was cramped, smaller even than their house in the Haven—and this place they shared with Remus. It smelled bad, even with the cinnamon scent, and was dark. The whole building made him uncomfortable, as if one of the sinners that the Prophets always warned against would jump out at him from around any corner.

This place—not home, certainly—was not safe.

Patton looked down at the black-and-purple hoodie in his hands. Despite how much his life had been controlled while trapped in the lab, how little of an effect he had on anything, how it was entirely possible to be dragged out at any moment and experimented on, the only place Patton could say was safe was that room. No, not the room—Virgil. Virgil was safe.

Patton sniffled, and realized belatedly that he was crying. He couldn't let Father see—it might upset him, and after all he'd done for Patton, and how hopeful he was that Patton would like the apartment. . . .

Patton dried his eyes on his sleeve, then sat heavily on the bed and ran a hand over the bed sheet. It was softer than the ones at the Haven, but much thinner. One night of restlessness would probably put a hole in it. Patton resolved to not mention it. It was clear that Father was trying his best, and Patton didn't want to make him feel bad for not having much money.

At least there aren't bugs, Patton thought absently. Several years past, the barracks had become infested with cockroaches. It had taken months to exterminate them, and in the meantime the individuals living in the barracks had had to stay with those in houses. Patton didn't really remember who had stayed with them, but it had been some woman that Father treated coldly.

Patton kicked his shoes off—which were very bright green, he'd stared at them for a good five minutes when Remus had brought them to his hospital room—and dug his socked feet into the carpet. It wasn't as bad as it looked, he decided. He could walk through the apartment without shoes on. Shoes felt weird after months of not wearing them.

Patton's door swung a little bit and he flinched violently. It couldn't close, please he couldn't let it close, it had to be open—

He dove for the door, only to look up and see Father holding the doorknob, still swaying the door back and forth. Right, that was how Father had notified him it was dinner in the past. He straightened up, trying to act like his heart wasn't racing. Father's eyes seemed to bore into his, but eventually Father gave him a tight smile and led the way to the kitchen.

Dinner was strange. Father called it a “microwave dinner”, a strange name for something that was too small to be an actual meal. Not to mention they were individual portions, and dinner was a family meal. It tasted great, though, and Patton wondered if he'd ever tire of food that wasn't one of the five or six cycling meals that he ate while locked away with Virgil.

Father explained after dinner that they would be starting on Patton's diet next week, which would apparently consist of a lot of liquidized foods and protein. Remus had called it a “high-high” diet, then laughed, but Patton wasn't sure why it was funny. Remus wasn't with them right now, Father had said something about Remus working late shifts.

There were no dishes to wash, since the dinners had come in disposable containers and the forks had been plastic. Father led him to the living room and showed him something Patton hadn't noticed before—a television. They'd had a projector and screen at the Haven, which Virgil had said was similar. Father clicked the remote, and Patton was surprised to find something already playing. It wasn't too exciting: he didn't know what was going on, what the people onscreen were saying, what the story behind the program was. He quickly became bored.

Father kept looking over at him, a hopeful light in his eyes, a nervous smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Patton forced a grin onto his own face, as wide as he could possibly make it, and focused on the television. He felt slightly guilty, but mostly relieved, when Father relaxed and sat down, gesturing for Patton to take a seat too.

As the sunlight beaming through the dusty window faded completely and Father clicked on a dim, yellowish lamp, Patton realized that he'd be giving a lot of fake smiles in the foreseeable future.

~

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @enragedbees @gotta-love-alejandra @bunny222 @basiic-emo @patt0n-sanders @rosiepupper @fangirlgeekandfreak @dn-fan21 @that2000skid @remy-the-lemon-berry @itsadastraperaspera @xionbean @sanderssides-angst @hell-yea-we-gay-tonight @maybedefinitely404 @broken-pencils @thewhimsicallibrarytech @doomllily @hereissananxiousmess @judyismydog  @arodynamic-enby @at-that-one-nerd @therapysides

#slower than words #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #angst #sanders sides angst #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #remus sanders #ts remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #had a braces adjustment today #hurts quite a bit #today was stressful on all counts #that's why this chapter is a bit later than normal #and ~unedited~ #i'm going to try to keep putting out weekly updates #but like #don't be surprised it if doesn't work out :( #in other news i love my partner #love you guys

[fandomsilhouette]

the fire I began (is burning me alive)

In the wake of everything he’s managed to destroy, Felix sifts through the dust and sand to see what he can salvage. Somewhere in between the heated guilt of failure and the cool stubbornness of pride, he manages to find himself in the innocence of children and the needleprick pain of an apology. 

As it happens, there’s more to happiness than a smile. There’s more to Felix, too. 

Happy @felixmonth, y’all! 

She makes it impossible to apologize. The thought crosses Felix’s mind before he shakes it away. No. He has made it impossible to apologize, with three years of back and forth bad behavior and no remorse to speak of. It had always seemed like a sign of maturity to keep every emotion lurking beneath the surface tension of his skin. Felix was a good boy, a calm boy. So why had the whole camp been against him? Felix didn’t stir up trouble. All he did was say what everyone was thinking. 

Well. Clearly not everyone. Actually, almost no one except Chloe herself, who only heard the abstract idea of it (thank goodness, or she would’ve been insufferable too). She seemed to know as soon as school started in the fall, despite finally managing to convince her father to let her skip camp. 

“I’m so glad someone finally said it. That Dupain-Cheng girl is the worst, don’t you think? She really just gets whatever she wants, which is ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous! No one can live like that, it’s absurd.” Chloe had latched onto Felix’s arm and hasn’t stopped talking since she found him. “And the way she does it!! It’s like no one else realizes she’s just being nice until they do what she wants. I knew people were dumb, but this is just--” 

“Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.” Felix drones out the words, all too familiar with her catchphrase even if she hadn’t repeated it twelve times in the span of her current rant. She doesn’t seem to notice his complete disinterest and clutches tighter at his arm, delighted. 

“Exactly!!” If she keeps this up, Felix is going to have bruises in the shape of her claws at the end of this, assuming she doesn’t just take his arm back to class. 

What did he even do wrong? All he said was what he knew. Was it too public? Was it his tone, that mysterious, ambiguous variable of intonation so hard for Felix to grasp? Was it the truth, too heavy for a slip of a girl like Marinette to bear? But she carried the weight of Chloe’s thorns and lashes with all the dignity and poise of a queen. She turned Chloe’s barbs into blossoms with all the skill and arts of a wordsmith, a master at her craft. 

Chloe turns the page on her rant and gestures wildly, nearly hitting Felix in the chest, and he has finally had enough. It’s been almost a month of school being plagued by Chloe’s agreement and a dawning feeling of unease, as though anything Chloe agrees with is necessarily wrong, and the tension finally snaps, a clean, clear break. 

Felix yanks his arm away and storms off. It’s time to do what he does best: sulk. 

Sulking is perhaps… a more generous term for what he does. Felix spends the rest of the fall semester hiding, slipping away from Marinette, watching her fend off the reluctant bullies falling quickly in line under Chloe’s regime and struggling to reconcile the way his stomach churns at the memory of what he said to the determined stubbornness of the truth in his mind. There’s something wrong in the way that he can’t look Marinette in the eyes anymore, on the days she sticks around long enough for Felix to even try. 

It takes him embarrassingly long to think about trying to live the way she does, to walk in her footsteps long enough to see exactly how broken and mercenary she is. Embarrassed and flustered and humiliated at the way a smile looks so unnatural on his features, Felix slinks away afterschool to volunteering at the library where toddlers don’t judge him for the way his lips stretch too tight across his skin and his cheeks flush a ruddy pink, blotchy and uneven. 

It’s… relaxing, to read to children. Felix falls into an easy cadence, voice rolling on the undulating waves of the story plots as they warble their approval cross-legged on rainbow colored floors. He finds himself slipping into voices, growling and snapping, cheering, squeaking, whispering, crowing, sitting up straighter to sound a little braver than he is. He finds himself leaning in, looking each child in the eyes as the tension builds. His favorites are the ones who reach for the books when he’s done and ask to read it again, the ones who cluster by his feet and watch with wide eyes as the pages turn. When his shifts end, he lets them follow him like ducks and pulls out his old favorites from the shelves for them to taste. 

Felix doesn’t realize how much he loves it here, no matter the sticky grubby palms and the tears and the wailing and whining. It seems natural by the time he lifts up one of the kids to sit in his lap, bouncing them along to the beat of the plot. He doesn’t think twice of it. 

The librarians do, and one of them pulls out a camera. 

Felix doesn’t see it until his face is splashed across promotional flyers, glossy and shining in the evening light. He’s never seen his face like that. He takes one home. 

It’s not that he’s smiling in the photo. But there’s something in his expression that has managed to completely transform his normally dour glumness into something… bright, no matter how little he smiles. It’s warm and comforting and familiar. 

It’s Marinette’s smile. 

Well, not really. There’s no smile there to compare. But his eyes are bright and wide, and his body is leaned into the camera. Tension has disappeared from his shoulders. He looks happy. 

He was happy, when the photo was taken. 

Oh.

Felix has an apology to make. 

Somehow, it has taken him most of the year to realize that not only is Marinette avoiding him, the teachers are helping her. They refuse to allow Felix to pair with her for projects, or sit next to her. Everytime he gets close to cornering her on break, she slips away with Nino or into a classroom where the teachers won’t let him enter and swear that she’s not in, no matter how much he can see her hair peeking out between the blinds. Maybe he’ll have better luck at camp. 

He doesn’t. 

Felix has never liked Luka, older-camper-turned-counselor who was way too partial to Marinette despite being three years older than her. In his opinion, Luka has no business being around Marinette at all. In anyone else’s opinion, Luka and Marinette were childhood friends through his little sister Juleka, and there was nothing wrong with it at all. Their easy laughter made Felix’s blood boil on the best of days, and the last three weeks of camp had been anything but. 

The teachers ushered Marinette into their protection under the guise of homework help and extracurriculars. Luka just whisks her away and throws his head back in laughter. Nino joins them and they huddle over notes scribbled into notebooks and Marinette’s clear voice carrying across the lake. 

...maybe Felix should just leave a note. 

He manages to go through an entire notebook’s worth of trashed apologies before he throws the book across the room and storms out. He has no idea where he’s going but it darn well better lead him to something he can give her to hold onto, to remember that she saw him once as a boy worth helping up a cliff, a boy worth keeping still for as he slept. Felix tears out the meadow grass as he walks and shreds it into angry confetti blowing back into his face on the wind. It’s picking up and Felix is starting to struggle against it enough that when the arts and crafts building comes into view, he doesn’t think twice before stepping in. 

He’s been avoiding it all summer, and for good reason. Reminders of Marinette are splashed up against every wall, every surface: her sewing kit strewn across a corner here, her lyrics spread out on a table there, projects propped up in various stages of completeness. It’s her haven, Felix can see that just by the way she lights up (the way she smiles, some part of him whispers now) when she walks in or talks about it. 

Something catches the light from across the room and Felix goes to investigate. A needle has managed to find its way out of her kit and is glimmering as the treetops sway in the wind and expose the metal to sunlight like a metronome. Three beats pass to the rhythm of his heart. 

An idea strikes, and the clouds that have been building all day finally burst. 

Felix spends the rest of the afternoon hunched over a workbench, ignorant to the announcements being made across camp to come back to the cabins, ignorant of the pain spiking up his back and the pinpricks of the needle on his fingertips. He works fast, a little messy, a little quick, and doesn’t mind the way the tears blur his vision. 

It isn’t until he’s racing to Marinette’s cabin in the pouring rain, prize clutched carefully to his chest in plastic wrap, that anyone finds him. It’s Luka, because of course it is, and Felix can already hear the lecture from across the field. Felix is a good boy. Felix follows the rules. Felix takes one look at Luka and sprints faster. 

He doesn’t get to see Marinette before he’s hauled off back to his cabin getting an earful about safety and following camp instructions, but as Luka pulls him away from her cabin, he throws the package at her steps and hopes it lands. 

After that, he collapses in a warm bath and lets the tension drain from his body, Luka’s words and warm water lapping at him in equal measure. 

She doesn’t talk to him or seek him out that summer, but he sees the pillow he’s made propped up in her window with the apology card settled neatly next to it. The two birds on the front lean into each other, curled up and happy, or whatever passes as happy with Felix’s sloppy stitching. When he stops to gape, she mouths the words he stitched so painstakingly and winks. 

Please keep smiling. 

#Notte Writes #Fanfiction #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous: Adventures of Ladybug and Chat Noir #Felix #PV Felix #Felix Agreste #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Chloe Bourgeois #Nino Lahiffe #Luka Couffaine #Felinette #Felix/Marinette #Slow Burn #Apologizing Takes Work #Library Shenanigans #Reading To Kids #Fluff #Angst #Arts and Crafts #Felix Month 2020 Prompt 9 #Felix Month 2020

[write-the-love-story]

Is There Somewhere

Pairing: yoongi x reader Warning: theme of infidelity, angst, very vague mention of hooking up, uhh

A/N: I haven’t write in a while. I think it’s been a year since I wrote something. So, excuse me if this is shit and sorry if my grammar is fucking mess. English in not my first language. Also, I know I’m a marvel blog and this is my first time writing for BTS (or any real people in general, I write for fictional characters only, but oh well here I am). Um, also this is just something I write to keep my creative juice flowing (this is literally my fav song and Room 93 is literally from Halsey’s EP) and you don’t have to imagine it’s him, but whatever. Let me know what you think, I hope I could write more in the future.

►► Is There Somewhere - Halsey 

Room 93.

The creme colored walls are the witness of whatever this is. If this is a love story, it’s tragic. This is the love that ruins you. The love that shouldn't happen in the first place. A mistake. Yours.

The hotel downtown kept the secrets of the endless night shared between the two people that shouldn’t be together. If the walls could talk, they would tell you how stupid you are.

you were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room

Flashing those eyes like highway signs

Light one up and hand it over, rest your head upon my shoulder

I just wanna feel your lips against my skin

"What do you think?" he asked, eyes soft and hopeful as he leaves kisses from your neck down to your exposed shoulder, watching your reaction to the melody that's coming from his phone. It's his new work. You kept quiet, but the expression on your face said a lot of things and he's happy. A smile painted on your lips, he smiled too, mirroring you.

"It's good, really good." Your eyes softened as it reached his glimmering eyes, full of adoration. You wonder if he ever noticed the way you looked at him.

"Dance with me," You said. Jumping out of the bed you, pulling out your hand from the thick cover, offering them for him to take. He didn't say anything, except rolling his eyes playfully, he took your hand anyway. The pair swayed to the melody in the background. You wonder if this was his plan all along, but you didn't question him instead you lay your head on his chest humming lightly to the music.

White sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth, and the nightlife

You told me this is right where it begins

But your lips hang heavy underneath me

And I promised myself I wouldn't let you complete me

"Just don't fall in love with me," he reminded smugly, leaving trail of bruises upon your skin. "You wish," you answered smirking down at him, running your hands through his hair, you enjoyed his company. You enjoyed it way too much. More than you should.

At that time, you were so sure of yourself. You promise to yourself and whoever told you that this is a bad idea; you wouldn’t let him complete you. It didn’t take a while for you to completely fall at his feet. Maybe you’re too drunk to not notice yourself completely falling for him until it was too late.

You prayed to God and whoever listening about they'll forgive you for all your sins. For how selfish of you to even look him in the eyes, kiss him, sleep with him, and find comfort in him. Knowing that in the end, she's the one who he comes home too.

I'm trying not to let it show, that I don't want to let this go

Is there somewhere you can meet me?

'Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings

And you clutched my brain and eased my ailing

No one is exactly like him, you find yourself distancing yourself from him; ignoring his calls and sleeping with other people. In the end, you ended up comparing them to him. In the end, you're the one who gives in.

His contact info was glaring at you through the phone, tempting you to call him. Fingers hovering the call button you give in. Tut - tut - tut - tu-

"Hello?"

You trembled, hands gripping the phone tightly. The breath hitched on your throat when he answered. "Is there somewhere you can meet me?"

He let out a chuckled like he knew it was bound to happen, without knowing the person on the other line was smiling from ear to ear, "See you in 20."

You're writing lines about me; romantic poetry

Your girl's got red in her cheeks, 'cause we're something she can't see

"What are you writing, babe?" She asked, falling into the plush bed beside him scooting closer to him with her head on his shoulder. His eyes looked up to the person beside him, his lips quirk up. "Oh, you know." he teases, she gazed at him lovingly taking a peek at the yellow notepad on his hand reading the content he wrote, messy scribbling here and there.

She swooned over him over and over again, the heat started to creep up from her neck to her cheek. She has the shit-eating grin on her face, he's writing about her. The things he wrote, she thought she was one lucky girl.

He knows it was wrong, but he didn't say anything. He didn’t tell her how it wasn’t about her, how somewhere along the way everything changed and his heart belongs to someone else. He didn’t say it, he will keep this secret to the grave. He doesn't know if he'll regret this, but for now, he let her believe that it was all about her when it's not. It's always been you.

And I try to refrain but you're stuck in my brain

And all I do is cry and complain because second's not the same

Songs started to remind you of him and you hated it. You hated the green monster that's starting to creep up on you. You hated that you wanted to be her, lying beside him in the comfort of his room not some hotel room downtown.

"Ugh," You groaned, turning off the radio. Your friend who's driving beside you looked at you with a knowing look. "I told you this is a bad idea."

You sent her a glare, groaning again for the hundred times today. Folding your arms on your chest, you look like a child throwing tantrum, "He wasn't supposed to care." You said like it was some kind of a good excuse to explain why you love him.

"He wasn't and you're not supposed to fall in love with him."

I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight

I didn't mean to fall in love tonight

You're looking like you fell in love tonight

Could we pretend that we're in love?

I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight

I didn't mean to fall in love tonight

You're looking like you fell in love tonight

Could we pretend that we're in love?

He was lying on his back, eyes closed and a smile prominent on his face. His chest rises and falls as he tried to catch his breath in exhaustion and bliss. You adore him and you shouldn’t.

You propped your arms on the bed, trailing your soft pad of finger onto his eyelids, slowly bringing them down to his cheek, his lips, and they ended on his shoulders. You took in everything about him, scanning and memorising every feature he has like it was the last time you'll see him. He's ethereal and you wish he's yours, not hers. You can’t keep count how many times you wished he was yours.

"I'm sorry," You whispered, voice so low you think he could barely hear you. But his brows furrowed in confusion. Opening his eyes as he turned to look at you. "Why are you sorry for?"

You watched as his eyes turned from confusion to a split second of concern. Maybe it was just your eyes deceiving you in the dark.

"I'm sorry but I fell in love, could we pretend that we fell in love tonight?" You said, your eyes started to water. They’re clouded with worries afraid that he'll jump and ran out of the door, but he didn't. He smiled at you, no. He grinned like a Cheshire cat showing you the famous gummy smile that made you fall in love in the first place. Fingers trailing to grasp your open palm on his chest, he gripped them so tightly against his chest. "Okay," He hummed, staring at you before closing his eyes again he looked like he's almost he's at peace. Tonight he's at peace, tonight he fell in love.

Room 93 is where we fell in love.

#bts imagine #bts one shot #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fics #bts fanfics #bts x reader #bts x y/n #min yoongi imagine #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #suga imagine #suga x reader #yoongi fics #bts reactions #cr #writethelovestory

[imgoingtohellsofuckit]

How He Saved Iris

Izuku Midoriya x Quirkless! Reader

Warnings- Mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts. 

Summary - She was at the end of her line and he was determined to save her

Notes - Hi when I’m in bad places I write fics and this was a result of that so it’s a little rough but please enjoy!

"You never think about the consequences" God if I had a dollar for every time I heard that.  I'd probably own UA by now.

"You never think about anyone else! You're so selfish!" Selfish isn't the right word. I just don't care. It's as simple as that. I'm in a hero society with out a quirk. I can't be a hero and I can't be anything else. Quirkless is worse than death in this world.

The breeze hits my ankles as I stand on the railing. My body waving back and fourth slightly. The sun shines above me. It's a nice day not too hot and not too cold. Birds chirp as the fly above me. I lift my foot up hovering it over the empty sky. A step into nothing. A step and then it's over.

I always wondered how I'd die. I always assumed I'd die a hero. Too bad I couldn't. Too bad I die like the bad ending. A path no one wants to travel.

"Mama I'm coming home," I mumble softly. Another step and the ground beneath me disappears.

Before I can fall I feel someone desperately grab my arm. They pull me back on to the roof. I hit their chest. Feeling their racing heart agaisnt my back.

"You okay?" A soft voice asks. It doesn't match the muscular form I feel against my back. As I turn to face the person I see soft green hair and a face littered in freckles. He's looking at me waiting for an answer. I simply nod.

Okay doesn't try to hop off the roof of the school.

He's wearing a UA uniform. Apparently we go to school together.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt," He says finally, "it's lucky I grabbed you when I did."

"Lucky," I repeat.

He looks tensely at me. Not knowing what to say or do. His green eyes look to my uniform.

"You go to UA? I haven't seen you around," He says softly. "What class are you in?"

"Class 1C general studies," I explain, "no one really remembers us."

"General studies?" He asks. I nod.

"What about you?" I ask him, "I've never seen you around so I assume you aren't general studies."

"Yeah I'm class 1A Hero course," The boy replies. He offers me his hand. "I'm Izuku Midoriya." I wait a couple seconds before taking the hand tensely.

"No one class me by my name," I tell him, "they all call me Iris."

"Iris?" He asks me.

"My nickname growing up," I share.

"Hey Midoriya you coming or what?" A guy shouts from the door way. Midoriya looks back to me. His expression is soft and full of concern.

"I should get to my dorm," I reply. I wave off before past him to the door.

"You can't be a hero you quirkless nothing"

80% of the world has a quirk. How unlucky do you have to be to be in the 20%. When all my life I just wanted to be a hero how is it fair that I get nothing?

No quirk. No future. Not in this society.

At 5 years old they gave me my diagnosis. No quirk. Despite my parents both being hero's with great quirks I was deemed a nothing. A nobody. And as if the fates decided my life wasn't bad enough mom got the diagnosis three days later.

My dad died the day I was born. An villain killed him while he was trying to save someone. He and I never got to meet. My mom and I were left alone. But she never let that worry her. She still faced the world with a bright smile.

I was 7 when she died. The concept of death was so hard to understand. I thought it was my fault. I couldn't save mom. Her funeral was hard. I don't think I talked for months after it. They moved me in with my grandma. The old lady had many faults her biggest was loudly telling the world I was a stain on her sons legacy. How someone in her family line would never be quirkless.  I suppose that's when I started the idea. The only way to be happy was to not be. That's when I started to want to die.

The truth is I didn't exactly want to die rather I want everything to end. I wanted to stop being so sad. I thought the worst of it was then. But then saddens turned to nothing. It turned to feeling empty. Feeling numb to everything.

"Hey It's you," I hear a soft voice say. I look up from my book to see the messy green hair and face full of freckles. "Iris."

"And It's you Midoriya," I reply, "in the library interrupting my reading."

"Oh sorry you just looked lonely," He says softly, "I wanted to invite you over to study with my friends and I." He points to a full table to bright colorful hero's students. All beaming with joy and excitement.

"No," I say reply, "I just want to read alone."

"Come on you can't want to be alone," He tells me, "we'd love to have you join us-"

"I said no," I say firmly. He nods then stands from the seat. His eyes remain on me. "Can you leave already?"

"No," he says, "I'm gonna stay here with you. You can't make me leave." He sits back down. "I won't make you talk or listen. But I'm not leaving you alone." I roll my eyes and look back to my book. He pulls a notebook out working on some math problem. I find it hard not to sneak glances. Why won't he leave me alone? Why can't he take a hint?

The next day he's there again. Waiting at my table working on his homework as I try to read.  My eyes focus on the numbers he's scribbling through. He skipped a step.

"That 7 is wrong," I reply boredly

"Really?" He asks.

"Yeah It's supposed to be a 9," I tell him as I flip through my book.

"You're right. Thanks," He says giving me a big smile. I scoff looking back to my book. I shouldn't have helped him. I don't want to encourage him sticking around me.

The next day when I get to the library he isn't there. I smile in relief thinking he's forgotten about me.

Who would have imagined? A girl so full of emptiness would finally want to put that to an end? I have nothing to say. No why to give. No one here deserves my last words. No one ever tried to care.

"What are you writing?" Midoriya asks as he sits across for me. I scoff ripping it from my notebook. Shoving the note in my pocket.

"Doesn't matter," I growl, "why can't you just go away?"

"No you still look lonely," he tells me, "as a hero it's my job to help people. To make them smile."

"I don't smile," I snap back, "and I don't like it when people try to help me. And I especially don't like heroes."

"How Can you not like heroes? They are so cool!"

"I don't have a great experience," I growl.

"I wanna be just like you mommy"

"Quirkless loser! Quirkless loser!"

"I wanna save the day"

"You just haven't been around the right heroes," He tells me, "a lot of them are so nice and so cool! Like All Might! You have to at least like All Might."

"No i hate all heroes," I say harshly, "now leave me alone."  I raise the book to cover my face. He looks down.

"I know a kid who didn't like heroes," He tells me, "his parents were heroes and they died when he was really young. It took him being saved by one to realize how great heroes are." I keep trying to ignore him. But he moves pushing my book down to make eye contact with me. "I'm gonna save you. I'm going to make you like heroes."

You better move fast then Midoriya.

"UA academy for a hoax."

Grandmother was never very nice. Her whole family came from heroes. The longest line of heroes ended with one mistake. After my mother died she changed my last name. Said she didn't want her sons legacy to be connected to me. I lost my parents, my dream, and my name all before the age of 10.

"You want to drop out of UA?" Nezu asks me. I nod calmly. I feel the eyes of teachers around the office on me. No one drops out of UA. Its the best of the best. You get expelled sure maybe even transfer departments. Maybe. But to drop out all together. It's unheard of. "Well this is certainly unexpected."

"Do you have another school in mind?" Aizawa asks me.

I have half a mind to make a joke about a special school in hell. But they wouldn't find it funny. Instead I make up a lie. They sigh before telling me I'd have to stay til the end of the week. I nod.

"Thank you all," I say softly before excusing my self from the room.

3 days. My last day is when I'll do it.

"You look very pretty today," Midoriya says as he sits across from my in the lunch room. I had myself so tucked away in the corner most people never found me. How did he? I don't reply to him comment. Instead I watch as he sits down his tray then looks to my napkin holding a hand full of crackers. "No lunch?"

"Nah heavy breakfast," I lie. He moves handing me half of his sandwich.

"If you eat that I'll be quiet for a whole 5 minutes," He says to me. I take it from him. Half to get him to leave me alone and half because the aching pain in my stomach is eating away at me. I rip up the pieces and take the tiniest bites. However upon noticing his careful glare I finish it off. "Five minutes," He tells me, "so why are you over here by yourself?"

"I don't keep many friends," I reply.

"I see," He tells me, "I don't see why not. You are kinda nice when you aren't glaring daggers at people."

"Don't mistake me helping you on a problem for me extending my friendship to you," I say harshly, "I don't want nor need any friends."

"Everyone needs friends," He tells me.

"Well I don't," I scoff. I move standing from the table tossing my crackers away and march from the cafeteria through the empty halls.

"You were a failure from the start. If you had just died the world would had been better off."

"I'm worried about her," Aizawa says to Nezu, "I can't see her just dropping out."

"Iris has always been a bit of an odd one out," Mic adds in, "maybe she was finally tired of feeling less than everyone else.  Think about it her parents were heros and she's just a general studies kid."

"Her grades have been slipping for the last couple months too," Nezu says to the group.

"I'm worried," Aizawa repeats, "maybe we should call home."

"She's dropping out?" Midoriya whispers. He's been hiding outside the door. He didn't mean too but he heard Iris and felt the need to listen. Dropping out? Why would she do that?

Take away everything for someone and what are you left with? Nothing. I have nothing to gain or lose. Nothing to feel. Nothing. Besides no one will miss me.

"You're late," Izuku says watching me carefully. I move sitting down across from him in the library.

"Why do you keep sitting here?" She asks finally.

"I'm gonna save you remember," he tells me. I roll my eyes. "Why are you dropping out?"

"I don't fit here any more," I tell him, "it's not my place ya know. I'm not a hero kid or support kid. I'm just kinda here."

"But what about your friends," He says softly:

"I don't have those," I reply as I open up the book.

"I'm your friend."

I scoff at the notion.

"You don't even know me," I say sternly.

"You've only read romance novels this whole week. The ones where it's star crossed lovers," He tells me, "you read fast about 16 pages every 3 minutes. You skip lunch every Tuesday to walk the gardens. I learned that from Shinso. You water the lilies because you don't think the garden ever remembers too. Aizawa is the only teacher you've seemed to bond with because he used to train you."

"So you're a stalker," I say simply, "we still aren't friends."

"I'm trying to be," he says softly, "if you'd just let me in."

"After Friday you can pretty much forget about me," I reply, "I'm not important."

"When I met you- I thought you looked familiar," He blurts out, "you're mom she was DragonWing! And your dad was Dragoner! You had hero parents so why do you hate them so much?" All the emptiness turns to anger.

"God you follow me around you watch my every mood dig into my past and you wonder why I won't talk to you!" I shout at him, "I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to be around you! So until I leave UA leave me the hell alone!" The entire library had turned to look at us. Anger radiates off of me as I glare down at the boy. "Don't bother me anymore." I yank my bag onto my shoulder and march off. The day couldn't end fast enough.

I didn't realize I left the note behind.

My life was always destined to end in tragedy. From my parents death to the quirkless marking. I could never catch a damn break. And man did no one stop. Kids are mean sure but adults were the ones who crushed my dreams.

I hope in my next life I'm a butterfly. Or something that can fly. I just want to be free you know. To not feel empty and helpless. All I've ever wanted was to feel again.

'No. She wouldn't?' Izuku thought to himself. Denial filling his bones. She'd never kill himself. But it really seems like it. Oh no. What do you do in these situations? He didn't know.

"Mr. Aizawa!" Izuku shouts. He catches the time. He won't make to the pro in time. Instead he focused all of his energy into his legs. One shot.

3:30 the last bell rings and by 4 the commons is cleared. I've chose this to be the perfect time. Not witnesses no unintended harm. Just like the day Izuku found me I'll toss my self off the roof. Maybe I'll learn my quirk is to fly? Or maybe I'll realize I have a immortality quirk. Naive thought. Better than the thought that' keeps playing in my mind of how my body will look on the pavement.

I place my shoes on the ground. My letter was missing so I had to quickly write up another one. I rest it in on the heels of my shoes then move stepping up on the railing.

My mind moves to my mother. Her soft hair and gentle face. She loved me more than she ever had time to express. A pro hero who even though her daughter was quirkless told her she could become a real hero. The stories she told about her and my father. They way they met in school. They way they were happy.

It almost makes the emptiness worse.

3:28 3:29

3:56 3:58 3:59

The last kid leaves the walkway.

She takes her first step.

"Goodbye"

She starts to fall

"It's the end"

"Not yet!" The voice is strong. Powerful even if it's high pitched. He dives off to grab her. His arms clutching her tightly. The lack of gravity catches them. Uraraka. She smiles at the two. Iida and Todoroki at her side. The two guys help pull the jumper and her saviour back onto the roof.

Tears stream down the girls face.

All I wanna do is die

"Why did you do that?!" I sob helplessly, "It wasn't almost over I was almost free!"

"No you almost made a terrible mistake," The blue hair boy says looking at me.

I look to Midoriya still holding onto me. I move burying my head in his chest.

"I wanna die! Just let me die! Please! Why did you do that?"

"I told you I was gonna save you," He says to me as he strokes my hair, "I meant it. I'm gonna save you from yourself. I'm gonna help you."

"I don't want your help!"

"I know but you're gonna get it," He says to me, "something drew me to the roof that day and since then I made it my goal to help you. So let me." I meet his eyes. Green. Bright and full of life. He's so positive. So bright. It's not fair.

"I'll just keep jumping," I say at once.

"And I'll keep pulling you back," He tells me, "but you and I both know there is a better way to solve this."

"How?"

"Let's start off with telling a teacher," He says softly. He offers his hand to me and helps me from the ground.

We do just that. We tell Aizawa about attempt number one and two. He asks questions I don't want to answer. I answer them anyway. We reenroll me into school then I'm admitted to the hospital. It's lonely at first but Midoriya visits a lot. He helps me feel better.

My grandma gives up custody of me. Aizawa takes me in. I get back in school with better grades and better health. I befriend class 1A. I make heroes good again in my mind.

I still feel jealous. But I remember I don't need a quirk to be a hero. I decide to become a consoler. To help people in a different way.

Midoriya becomes my best friend. Then my boyfriend. After a couple more years my husband. He explains the story about him and All Might. And tells me we probably won't have a kid with a quirk. I smile at him. Saying we'll still love them. Our baby is born with Izuku's mothers quirk our next kid has a dragon transformation quirk like my mother. Midoriya tells them the stories of how he saved millions. He leaves the most important one for last. How he saved Iris.

#izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #deku x reader #quirkless reader #kinda angst #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader

[poisonepel]

Halloween at Night Raven! ♡ Savanaclaw

【Halloween at Night Raven! Special ☆ Savanaclaw Booth】

[Prologue] [Heartslabyul] [Octavinelle] [Scarabia] [Pomefiore] [Ignihyde] [Diasomnia]

You decide to carve pumpkins.

As you made your way towards Savanaclaw’s Pumpkin Carving booth, you were very amused to see how cheesy and basic it all looked.

The booth consisted of three wooden tables, each set with some pumpkins and carving tools. Taped to the side of the middle table was a white banner with “Fun Pumpkin Carve with Savana!” written in messy black paint. Squished beneath Savana, the second half claw was scribbled in blue marker. One poorly drawn jack o’ lantern sat at the corner of the banner.

Your mind went back to Headmaster Crowley’s speech at the assembly, when he had said he was very impressed with each dorm’s contribution to the party, and you wondered whether or not Savanaclaw was included in that. This certainly didn’t look up to par with anything.

Also, you were the only visitor here. Three members of the dorm’s members were in charge of this booth—the dorm leader Leona, Ruggie, and Jack—and they were the only other people here, idly chatting at one of the tables together while cheesy Halloween songs played from a radio laying next to them. But the second they noticed you, they immediately leapt to attention.

“Oh, (Y/n)! Are you here to carve pumpkins?” Ruggie called.

“Why else would I be here?” you called back. “...Has no one else come by yet?”

“Nope!”

Now you were really starting to reconsider. Maybe you would’ve had much more fun at Diasomnia’s haunted house booth instead... They always had the most popular booth.

But, you knew these three very well, and you didn’t mind spending some time with them. Plus, if not for you, they would’ve been here alone the whole night. So you took a seat at the table next to Leona, deciding you wouldn’t mind spending your Halloween very casually with three of your favorite people.

“Well, I doubt anyone else is gonna show up, so... I guess we can start,” Leona said, placing a fat pumpkin in front of you. “Have fun carving or whatever.”

“‘Or whatever,’” Ruggie echoed, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Why’d you even pick this dumb kids activity anyway? Nobody wants to do it. I bet (Y/n)’s only here ‘cause they felt bad for us. Huh, (Y/n)?”

“...I-I was actually looking forward to this,” you admitted.

“Uh, Howl’s the one who thought of this, not me,” Leona clarified, brushing over you. “So if you’ve got any complaints, direct them all to him.”

Jack scowled. “We only went with this ‘cause your lame ass couldn’t think of anything better.”

“Well neither could Ruggie’s.”

You let out a small smile at the trio’s bickering, knowing that this was a very common occurrence between them. “Carving pumpkins isn’t so bad,” you insisted. “It’s a Halloween staple!”

“Well, you do you..” Jack shoved a few carving tools in front of you, as well as some paper templates in case you wanted to use those. Ruggie, for some reason, also began sawing the top off his own pumpkin, despite the blatant distaste for this activity he’d expressed just a second ago.

“Originally we were gonna have a contest,” Ruggie informed you as he worked. “Whoever carved the best pumpkin would get to take a picture with that scarecrow over there holding their pumpkin.” He pointed over to a corner, where there was a scarecrow dressed in a ragged Savanaclaw uniform, sitting atop a pile of hay. You didn’t say it out loud, but the set-up looked hideous. “And there’s also some candy in that cauldron next to it for the winner to take, too. I picked that out. It’s the good candy.”

“...”

It really looked like these three had run to the party store last-minute and just bought all the generic Halloween decorations they could find. They even had those plastic skeletal goblets set on the table, filled with some kind of fruit drink, which they would periodically drink out of. There was no theme - just, cheap plastic Halloween decor.

“Anyway, I guess to make the night interesting, we’ll just have a contest between the four of us,” Ruggie went on. “But really it’s just between me and (Y/n) ‘cause I doubt the other two will even try.”

Jack immediately got offended. “Lay off, Bucchi. You’re just mad ‘cause I’m better than you at everything else.” Then, feeling spitefully motivated, he grabbed a paper template and began tacking it to his own pumpkin, one that he was certain would look better than Ruggie’s no matter how hard Ruggie tried.

But Ruggie only stuck his nose up. “See, Howl, you’re not even doing it right—you’re supposed to scoop out all the seeds before you tack—”

“Can you mind your damn business?”

Ruggie ignored him. “And Leona—”

Leona had been busying himself drawing on another pumpkin, a messy lion monster face in Sharpie, and was just finishing coloring in a ragged scar going through its eye. “Done.”

“You didn’t even carve it! That was the whole point of this!”

“Shut up, my pumpkin is a masterpiece.” Leona hissed, before stretching back, feeling very exhausted with all the work he had put into that 2-minute drawing.

Jack’s grin reappeared on his face. “What were you expecting from the dorm leader, Bucchi? You should be surprised he even bothered to try.”

“He can’t participate in the contest if he didn’t even carve it,” Ruggie insisted, crossing his arms. “Drawing talent isn’t the same as carving talent.”

“You call that drawing talent?!”

“...Rude,” Leona huffed. “You know I’d be more motivated if there was a better incentive. Like...” His eyes trailed around the area, before they landed on (Y/n). Then he smirked. “Hey, let’s change the rules a bit. Instead of candy, the winner gets... a kiss from (Y/n).”

“...What.” You froze. Your brows creased. Then you hesitated. “...What if I win?”

“Then you can make all of us do whatever you want.”

You took a longer pause. “...For how long?”

“Uhhh,” Leona looked up, thinking for a second. “A day?”

“Deal.”

“Wait, I didn’t agree to that—” Ruggie cut in. “I don’t like that look in (Y/n)’s eyes. Also, I don’t even want some stupid kiss anyway.”

“Yeah, what the hell?” Jack agreed. “I wanted the candy.”

“Fine, you guys can have whatever you want if you win. But I’ll get a kiss.”

“If you want a kiss from me, you’ll have to get a kiss from everyone,” you clarified. “The winner gets to pick the punishment, but it has to be the same for everybody.”

“...I don’t want a kiss from Howl.”

“Really? Howl’s been wanting one from you, though,” Ruggie grinned.

The tips of Jack’s ears immediately went red. But he didn’t spare a moment in dipping his hand inside the center bowl, which was filled with pumpkin guts, and flung a handful directly at Ruggie’s face.

“...! Howl!” Ruggie cried, alarmed, as if Jack had come onto him unprompted. He retaliated by snatching up Jack’s pumpkin and chucking it at the ground—which was not something you were expecting at all. Your mouth was agape when gourd bits splattered everywhere, staining the area with stringy, gooey, orange slime.

Jack, however, couldn’t have cared less about the pumpkin.

“Pretty sure you just got disqualified for that,” he said, knowing Ruggie was literally the only one passionate about this contest.

“...!”

Leona simpered. Now neither of them were able to participate; with Jack’s pumpkin destroyed and Ruggie disqualified, Leona had less competition, which meant a better chance to win. He didn’t even have to do any work to get them out. So he was very pleased.

“Between you and me now, babe,” he winked at you, still with that lazy smirk on his face. “And I’m changing my reward. If I win, all three of you have to be my slaves for a day.”

“...‘Cause that’s nothing new,” Ruggie muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll win for you, Ruggie,” you assured him.

“Please,” Ruggie replied. “I don’t care what you do to me; I just want Leona to suffer.”

So, determined, you shot Leona a glance, who looked equally as motivated to win this contest. And then you began.

It took about an hour and a half for you to complete your pumpkin monster. By the time you were done, you were smiling very triumphantly—until something dawned on you.

“...Wait, who’s even judging the contest?”

“........”

“...Well, when we thought of this...” Ruggie started, “we thought more people would show up, so us three weren’t supposed to participate... but I guess we can do a vote? Me and Howl.”

“...!” Leona let out a low hiss, knowing fully well neither of them would ever vote for him.

And so, the winner was you.

You smiled gleefully when you got to pose with that hideous DIY scarecrow the three of them had built, holding your pumpkin monster proudly at the camera. Your photo printed on a Halloween-framed film that read, “Have a SPOOK-tacular Halloween!” with cartoon bats and ghosts on it.

According to Ruggie, Leona was the one who picked the film out when they’d gone to the party store last week. Knowing that, you cherished the photo; you thought it was cute how hard they all worked to put this together—even though it wasn’t phenomenal.

But, the Savanaclaw boys didn’t care much for the photo with the scarecrow—those three were much more eager to hear your terms for your “reward.” 

“Oh, the three of you will just have to accompany me on one of my busy errand days,” you told them, “and help me with anything I need help with.”

That didn’t seem so bad.

Key word: seem.

                  ・━━━━✥◈✥━━━━・ 

[Halloween at Night Raven! Masterlist]

#twisted wonderland #twst fics #savanaclaw #leona #jack #ruggie #leona x gn reader #jack x gn reader #ruggie x gn reader

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Dearest

i feel like this chapter has a lot. huh. i’m the the lot is some great content though.

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception is always appreciated.

-

A snore crept out of one of the two, gentle albeit messy… What a distracting noise, yet that of comfortable nostalgia from being bothered by such a thing, even if both were asleep. 

Though regardless, the spring sunrise shined from the window. Its rays focusing on the room and gleaming on the third-grade textbooks, barely finished, or the piles of papers and utensils on the floor. The conundrum of a mess bustling itself with scribbles of drawings and poetry and leftover clothing picked out after shopping with assumedly-stolen money. Sheet music notes and lesson-charts sat comfortably on the side, piling itself and waiting for when it can scatter around the room with the rest. A ukulele shined from next to the bed and the bookshelf left ignored from the wavering sun whilst a switchblade was left hidden and ignored in the closet for the first time in ages. And with such a sight from the young boys’ room, the loving chaos still hid from outsiders that never knew of one of the two. 

Those two however, shined beyond the rest. From one taking up majority of the bed, and the other almost fighting back with the blankets, they tangled up together in comfort of one another. Their breathing calmed with both of their touch from an earlier embrace and the mere knowledge of the other’s presence lifted one’s fears.  

In the light, one awoke, bothered by it. His mixed eyes pinched with the rising sun, and in the matter of seconds, he realized their tangled position. Despite the oddity, he chuckled silently at the normality. With careful arms, he unraveled Oliver’s arms over his and attempted his best at rolling off again. 

“You aren’t leaving him, are you,” she asked.

“Of course, not,” he whispered back. Away from the bed, his mind wandered to what item in the room to pick up first. For one, the instrument was off limits for the time being after almost breaking a string. Secondly, a sad burnout began erupting for him towards his sketchbook, as Oliver explained prior. Silence was always a rule for the night by Ayu’s standards, from when he snuck across rooms to be rid of his mother’s bottles, to even then to not possibly wake another mother. 

He would have winced at the last choice of the textbook, however in his luck, Oliver stirred. Stirring always meant his soft waking in Ayu’s head. In the anticipation of the new day, Ayu lofted his head at the bed again, waiting for Oliver’s stirring to end, and his eyes to flutter up. 

Oliver met his innocent eyes when he first awoke, shining brightly with those colors of blue and grey, no red in sight. His hands clasped empty, with the person he hugged in the night sitting on the floor next to him. Groggy, he sat up, pulling the blankets that fell over back into the bed. “Can you fix the blankets today?” 

“Yeah.” Oliver rolled out of bed himself with the reply from Ayu. “If you let me skip the math questions today,” he smiled. 

“Ayu, you can’t avoid long division for a week.” Oliver picked up some leftover papers from last night on the floor, forming yet another pile. “It isn’t even that hard to figure out.”

“Says the one who never struggled in school.” He grabbed a paper off of Oliver’s hands. “Besides, aren’t I getting a lesson from Eilwen today?”

“Yeah, but you haven’t seen her in a few months,” he took away the drawing. In it held a simple portrait of outside the window frame. Oliver smiled at the simplicity but continued, “And you haven’t been in school for almost five years. There’s a difference.” 

Ayu pouted, to Oliver’s pity.

“To make up for it, I’ll make whatever you’d like in the fridge,” Oliver said. 

He however retorted, “Isn’t that just the usual deal?”

That was actually a fair point surprisingly. “Well, yeah– but it’s better than nothing, isn’t it? Can’t do much when I’m eleven.”

“… I’ll take it.”

Ayu still sat on the floor with a paper and book on his lap; Oliver lied around in the freshened bed relaxing himself from finished work. Though, Ayu reached out the paper, pointing at a section of the notes, and asked, “Ollie, what’s the fraction remainder of this one?” 

“Two-thirds.” 

*

Eilwen sat by the edge of her candlelit room, darkened from the lack of light. Her head balanced crookedly to the rest of her body with her hands placed justly underneath. The pocket-watch seemed nowhere in sight but in front of her bestowed multiple items. 

Ayu stood by the door, thoughts curating on what sort of lesson he would experience today. His nose tickled and ran from the odd scent of the room. And his eyes burned for no apparent reason. However; remained quiet without much of a complaint.

“Ayu, you do know your eyes are bright red at the moment, correct?” 

In the question and the realization, he blinked and shook his head. “No, not really… But it doesn’t happen that much. Why does it smell funny in here?” 

She answered the second question as a brush off. “I burnt some sage here before you arrived to see effects on you. But, you’re saying your eyes are something of occasion,” she asked. 

“… I guess?” 

The tension grew from Eilwen’s end. She breathed out. “I didn’t call you here for a lesson,” she said, “You’re here so I can test you.”

“What?” The word test frightened Ayu from Oliver’s past mentions of it. “Why do you want to–”

“Your associations with Akeldama are rather peculiar, are they not?” She stood up, holding the first item up against her gloves. Despite the covered cloth, the item steamed in her hands. 

Ayu nodded, backing away in the process. 

“I want to understand why Akeldama has such affiliations with you from what Alice had told me… What your connection with him is, in a sense.” Her eyes tilted towards the other items behind them then. “I assume you heal quickly like Oliver?” 

The question rang worry. “Why are you asking?” 

“I won’t if you don’t abide to it, but I hoped to see at least some blood samples from you to be frank.” The item still steamed in her hand, but her face showed no reaction. 

The sight brought Ayu to ignore her answer. “Isn’t that thing painful?” 

She finally held it in the sight of Ayu; it was a cross. “Why, yes it’s supposed to from our contracts with Akeldama. But I’ve held one enough times for my hands to be null void.” Her eyes blinked into a pause. “It’s safe to assume that this may hurt, and you may run off if you like.”

But the door already left them. 

“Are you willing to help me run these tests?” 

With hesitance, but curiosity, Ayu nodded. 

“Thank you.” 

Soon enough, Ayu was seated in a chair placed near the table, oddly ready for any testing.

Kneeling closer to him, she asked, “Where would you want this placed if it stings?” 

He gestured at his legs, not as boney as their prior meeting, but enough for Eilwen to comment, “You seem to have harmed this place already…”

“Just get it over with,” he said. 

With an eye at him, she replied, “Alright. Please don’t kick if it does hurt. I’ve heard of your strength before.”

And with the comment, she placed the cross down on his shin in the slowest of pace. From the tip of the metal to the mass of the shape, a burning sensation kicked instantly. 

His urge to jolt attacked him with the pain, but instead of doing as such, he hissed instead for her favor, “Stop, stop, stop–”

She herself jolted from the command, and pulled back with a stern expression. Her eyes studied the shin it was placed in, “Oh dear.” 

The recovery from the pain still lasted, up to his stomach’s own urge to somehow vomit. “What?” 

“It seemed to have left a mark.” 

“It what?!” 

“Do you have a pain tolerance?” She asked. “Because it seems to be very harmful.” 

The surprise made Ayu fluster, “How bad is it?” 

“Close to blistering it appears,” she turned to him, “but it looks bad enough that you should have screamed…”

The scent of the room did not help with the minor pain that left regardless. “I can’t compare how bad it was… I don’t think I’ve been hit by someone before. I’ve only hit… others, and myself.” 

Her staring froze. “Is that where these bruises are from?” 

“Yeah,” he answered, “I’m dumb aren’t I?” 

“Idiotic.” A hand grabbed bandages from the side and wrapped both injuries. “Let’s see what’s next.”

She pricked deep enough into his finger for a decent amount in her sample vile. The color of his blood strained darker than most other shades he had seen. 

“What are you gonna do with that anyways?”

She answered, “Test it with everything else. The plant will be the more interesting subject considering how an iblis’ blood can be poisonous if found.”

“How poisonous is the monster blood?” It was a strange idea to Ayu, considering he had never seen the blood of the monsters before.

She scoffed, “You can turn into one of them yourself if you indulge in it, though it takes a couple of pints.” She grabbed the cursed cross again, “Let’s try it here first.” 

On top of a wooden plate, the experimenter tipped the vile ever so slightly. With time, the dark blood crept down on into the cross, and at the first touch, the blood burnt off.  

A click nipped from her lips. “Uncommon attributes in your blood I see.” 

Throughout the entire procedures, her hands never wrote notes onto anything, to Ayu’s notice. Her calculations all occurred in her head with little analysis, and the methods all formally played out in her assumptions. In curiosity of these readings, he asked her, “How do you know all this stuff?” 

Already, her focus faced the plant in the very corner. Its stems stuck up in thickness and lines whilst the leaves made no focus for themselves, leaving the stems to wander up and about around the vase. “I know most of these through experience. However, Alice did teach me of basic human study after her days in home remedy.”

Another drop formed from the vile into the plant, and after a mere second effects arose. 

Eilwen stepped back from the reaction, as the stems that stretched so lively began to wilt and grow black. All the parts of the plant dove down from its previous ways and lied dead on its vase with the dark colors quickly proceeding. 

“This…” Eilwen held her breath, only to Ayu’s wonder for the plant. 

Despite its obvious death, once the black corroded through the being, it dissolved back into the vase. Then abruptly sprouted again into snapping little creatures. The creatures almost hissed in wails, seeping out the tiniest bits of liquid, but soon enough a flame was put through it. 

The flame, brought upon by Eilwen and her candle, also died down relatively quickly with the monster. 

Without Ayu even realizing, Eilwen huffed from assumedly her held breath. “That…” She placed her candle down. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

The door appeared once again. 

“You may leave,” she said, “I believe I have enough of what I need… Be wary of what’s to come soon.”

*

Oliver left himself in his ‘I give up’ stance again, lying down in the grass field after ages of exhausting himself over shapeshifting. 

Into the sky, he groaned, “You think it’s supposed to be easier after making a fucking cup disappear but now you’re warping your physical form.” And the frustration leading his hands to pull his face. 

With the sky, he stared at it for far too long. Enough for his focus to trance into the abyss of his blank thoughts. But after another blink, a pair of eyes stared down at him. 

“What’re you doing,” Ayu asked. 

The suddenness of his appearance bolted Oliver up, knocking their foreheads together evenly. “Holy shit,” Oliver hissed while getting up, “where did you come from?”

“I just walked up here!”

“But I didn’t even–” He paused. “Is this how it feels to get invisible-pranked?”

In reaction and quick recovery form the hit, Ayu only blinked. “I don’t know.”

“Great response.” Oliver brought himself up again from Ayu’s arrival. “How come you’re here so early.”

A shrug rolled from his shoulders, “Eilwen let me off just now so I came to watch you practice.”

The new pressure of the hour claimed itself to Oliver. Now with his widened eyes and his lazy state, he waited for Ayu to add. 

“I’ll be quiet support,” he cheered with jazz hands, to the other’s adoration. “But… what are you doing?”

The topic, in which Oliver never wanted to try again, needed to be explained yet again by his sigh, “I got introduced to shapeshifting today.” 

“Oh, my God,” Ayu jumped in his seat, “You’re doing it for once?”

“Yeah,” the excitement rolled Oliver’s eyes over. “But, I have to figure out how to deteriorate my body first!”

And with just those words, Ayu’s expression changed and his head tipped over. 

“… I’ll turn into a black abyss then I can turn into things.”

“Oh!” The idea finally clicked. “That… Okay I get why that’s hard now.” 

Oliver nodded along with him, and sat back down with him. “Today I’m just trying to get my hand to warp.” He placed his hand into front attention, and both him and Ayu stared into it. 

“… Is anything gonna happen?”

“Nope.”

The issue brought some struggles into the table for Ayu’s day, as thought was required. Though luckily, ideas already crept through his mind during the conversation. “Did you try… turn your hand invisible.” 

The command baffled Oliver at first. “What? Okay.” But the command was simple by this point. Within a few seconds, his hand vanished between the two of them. “Now what?” 

He needed to think up of the words. “Pretend like that hand that should be there, belongs to someone else?” 

“Like whose?” 

“I don’t know.” Some digging dove in his mind. “Let’s say Faustus to make fun of him.” 

Oliver chuckled. 

“Faustus wants his hand back,” he said. “But you’re hiding that hand from him.”

“Through invisibility?” 

“No,” he replied. “From making it not exist for him.”

With his foreign words, Oliver followed what Ayu said with hesitance. “Now what?” 

“Turn off the invisible stuff.”

And from those silly words, Oliver did just that. His hand slowly revealed itself, to both of their dismay to see the typical brown. However, soon enough the tips of his fingers appeared, and one was missing.” 

For a few seconds, they both stared. Then Oliver spoke out, “What the fuck?” 

A bend of the hand later, the piece is still gone. He pulled it over and inside the missing piece of limb was a void of nothingness inside the hand. Eyes widened, Oliver shook it back and forth, and then poked himself with the finger. The piece literally was not present. 

Disheveled, Oliver confirmed, “Okay, so I think it worked, but how do I undo it?”

“Uh,” Ayu panicked after realizing even he never knew what he was saying. His own limbs shook in thinking. “Just think it exists again?” 

“I don’t think that’s enough description, Ayu!” 

“Do you think I know what description is,” he barked. “I don’t know, bite your finger?”

“Ayu,” Oliver stated, “My pain tolerance is nonexistent; I’ll bite my finger off if I do that.”

“Fuck you’re right,” he agreed. “And I don’t want to punch you again…”

“Why are all your backup options involving me getting beat up?” 

 Ayu answered back, “Because those are the ones I was always taught!”

“Well, that’s another thing that’s concerning but we’ll talk about that later,” he exclaimed. But it turned out that after their small argument, they looked back at the issue and it already returned. 

They both took a minute, but sighed in relief once they hit the ground. 

“… You really resort to punching?” 

Ayu reminded himself of the comment. After a few shuffles, he said, “I guess so.” He went on, “I ask what to do and it’s pretty much always fighting back… and hit yourself to make you stop. All that stuff.” 

A tense grew in Oliver. “Ayu, that’s really not a good thing?” He rolled over towards Ayu, leaning himself on one arm. “That’s just bad for your wellbeing, and makes you a dick. Besides, it’s cooler to use your wits nowadays.”

Ayu replied, “But I’m not smart, I’m just dumb.” 

And at that moment all the insults Oliver threw months before clicked back to him. Oh shit. “You can be smart, like just now. You were able to figure out deterioration before I could.” 

“I guessed though. I didn’t even know what I was saying.”

“But it worked.” 

“Even though I couldn’t help you get rid of it…” His body turned around, away from Oliver. 

A small frown packed Oliver’s face, obvious of Ayu’s growing discomfort. A new strategy had to be formed, quickly at that. He stood up from their lazy states. “You know what? I think I know what we could do while we’re here.”

“What?”

And Oliver turned invisible. 

“Really,” Ayu complained. 

However, it was all in Oliver’s plans of new fun. Backing up, he set himself to charge at Ayu and run away of impact. Luckily, he gained some speed through his dieting, and the abilities helped. After a decent distance, enough to only view Ayu as a well-sized blob, he ran towards him. Swiftly, the breeze grazed his hair and face at the charge, and with nifty hands, he patted Ayu’s head. 

“Tag,” he yelped while appearing again, only to hide himself once more. 

“Oh,” Ayu got up as well. “Oh, you little fuck,” he smiled. A jump and a kick off later, and he busted running in his speeds.

The speed itself flinched Oliver for its arrival, but he laughed and continued running nonetheless. 

For Ayu, however, was a different story. Despite Oliver’s own advantage of his invisibility, the crunches he formed onto the grass still paved his path everywhere he ran. Then lurking in his ears, Ayu heard those footsteps and all the twists Oliver made in his own escape, an experience he already faced prior. But regardless, he played along with Oliver’s sense of superiority in the game. 

“Come on, Ayu! I’m pretty sure out of anyone, you can catch me,” Oliver cheered. 

Oh, is that what he’s going for? Ayu sighed in his head, but figured Oliver was already putting all his efforts in anyways. Suppose he just wanted to lift his spirits, in fact, he was, but the comment already seemed forced. Regardless, he determined himself to take advantage of the moment. “Alright, guess I will.” 

Tracking Oliver’s running patterns seemed easy enough. His turns, after a good bit of fake-running and waiting, finally made to where Ayu could catch him. And at that time and curve, Ayu ran for the win. 

With Oliver’s breeze of a run, he turned his head to check Ayu’s whereabouts, ready for the next tease. However, he did not expect Ayu to run directly at him in the side, then tackling him with the yell of a, “Tag!” 

The momentum of the tackle left both of them falling and rolling together on the grass in recoil. Through the rolling and tumbling with grass sticking to their clothes, it ultimately ended up with Ayu pinning Oliver underneath him in winning fashion. They stared into each other, but the rolling pains hit them both as Oliver laughed, “Okay, I think I lost.”

Ayu, blinking for a second, laughed back and let go of the position, returning to lie down next to him. 

They giggled off a little more for the childish game, disregarding them still being children.

“The tackle didn’t do anything, did it?” 

“No,” Oliver reassured, “The rolls just cracked my bones a bit much.”

“No breaking?”

“Pretty sure not.”

The new silent peace brought upon Oliver to add on to it. “… How long has it been since we’ve met?”

Ayu said, “We met in October, so that’d make it seven months, right?”

“Good math.”

“Thanks.”

Oliver continued after his compliment. “A lot happened after that, didn’t it?”

“Mainly because of coincidences but fair point.” The grass itched Ayu’s skin but in a comforting manner. “Honestly, the monsters have been gone long enough that I can relax a little more.”

“Yeah, now I’m the only one you have to deal with.”

“Don’t say that!” 

Oliver giggled at his retort, “Okay I’m exaggerating; we haven’t seen the wolf in forever, I know. But you have to admit, I still have monstrous tendencies even if we doubt it.”

“Don’t we all?”

“… Yeah everyone here’s a little fucked up apparently.” 

A calming ambiance chilled them over while they gazed at the sky together. However, for Oliver, the topics that he hid from himself and Ayu rushed back in his mind through the silence. The time was perfect for him to ruin it, but everything always ruined everything, so he pushed ahead. 

“Ayu… How are you feeling right now?” 

Ayu tilted his head towards him. “Good? This is kinda nice, you can say.” 

“No, I don’t mean that,” Oliver said. “I mean, it’s good that you’re feeling good right now but–. How are you feeling about life? With how you got here, and the wishes, or your dreams?”

Ayu gripped his hair. “Isn’t that a little much to ask?” 

“I just want you to let out whatever’s in your mind for once,” Oliver said. “Since I don’t think you’ve ever gotten much of that.”

“Yes, I have,” he argued. 

But it was all invalid with, “Ayu, you told me you were taught to cope by beating stuff up six minutes ago.” 

The counter jabbed Ayu a bit with his own prior words. He blinked a few times, then breathed out. “Okay, but there’s not much to say.” 

“That’s fine, just let it out.” 

Thinking forced Ayu to sit up. “… Where do I start?”

“Anywhere, I assume. And I’ll ask as you go on probably.” 

That help reached Ayu as if nothing touched him. “Okay… I guess let’s start with my dreams?” 

No reply. 

“There’s nothing that bad with my dreams; actually, I think I like them,” he began. “Uhm, I like them because they’re good for my stories. But, they usually add more to it than needed from what people told me, and it makes everything too confusing for them to like. My stories are trashy, compared to how I wanted them to be since… I never told anyone this before, but…”

“But what,” Oliver asked. 

For some reason, Ayu could never control his grin at the motive. “I’m making my comics for somebody; I want them to be proud of me after I worked so hard.”

A smile crept from Oliver. “That’s pretty sweet.” 

However, the tone died after breaking innocence. “They don’t like how I made it, though. It’s disappointing… They said nobody would ever bother to read it… That’s one of the ways I’m kinda incompetent, really incompetent.” 

“Ayu, you’re not–”

“Shut up,” he exclaimed, “you already told me that a million times.”

His tone brought Oliver to fear in his tangent. Had he ever heard the boy tell him something like that?

“I’m an incompetent, dumbass kid,” he said. “I’m that dumbass who killed so many people because I asked without thinking. I was eight sure but can I do anything about it now? No; because I’m too fucking weak to do anything about it despite every step I take and I’m hurting people somehow.”

His words picked up in volume, and his speeds brought his monologue into rambling. The more he spoke, the more he pulled his hair as well. 

“Everybody is suffering because of me and my stupid, selfish wishes. I wanted to be a hero; I wanted to have friends, but I didn’t know what that meant. And I can’t stop it! I have to rely on everybody and sit around with only comics at my side and even that is terrible! I do nothing and I practically am nothing; pretty much nobody knows I exist anymore anyways. And none of this would have happened if I was a bitch and–”

With all of his huffs and drive, he stopped. Gasps for air came his way for his held breath. But soon, his breathing crumbled, along with his voice. 

“Why did I run…?”

All of his venting shook Oliver in his core. The pieces of this conclusion seemed as something that laid right in front of him for ages. Yet, only now did he see them pieced together. And that, processed poorly. “Ayu, what–”

Ayu propped himself up and his feet moved with his mouth. “Fuck this.” 

Oliver’s processing unit somehow slowed from its increasing malfunction. But once Ayu continued walking farther, he himself propped up into a quick run. “Ayu, wait.” He grabbed his hand, grasping it and holding it steady. Denying words could never work again, he figured. So, basic assurance seemed as the only thing of help. “It’s going to be okay.”

“How?!” 

He gulped, “I’m here… and we’ll fix it all together. One step at a time.” Lacing their fingers together, Ayu’s shaking, Oliver brought to him a smile. The same peaceful smile he raised up to his mom for so many years, all to preserve life behind the dread. 

Despite his efforts, Ayu did not turn and eye into it. Instead, he froze with the shaking hand, and clenched his grip. 

“Ayu,” he cried, “that–” but he stopped the rest of the sentence. Another trigger would ruin the moment, so he endured the pressure. 

And afterwards, Ayu chuckled with the smallest sound. “You’re a lot nicer than before. You know that?”

Ignoring the pain, he replied, “I’ve always been nice; it’s just that I think I forgot how to care for a while until you came along.”

“I’m just that much, aren’t I?” He yanked out of the hand-holding, much to Oliver’s lost balance. “We should go back to Alice. It’s been a while hanging out here.”

Regaining balance, Oliver stared at the now calm Ayu in disbelief, as it seemed he copied his own style of emotion recovery and avoidance. Well, not entirely, but similarly in nature. “Uh… Yeah I guess we should.”

As they arrived, Alice stood by the porch table, setting the final touches to what appeared as Oliver’s proper meal of the week. The faint scent already hit his nose as he waited for the satisfying dish. 

With a quick glance, Alice jeered out, “Oliver! How is your progress now?” 

“It’s okay,” he yelled back. “What’s the food today?” 

“An average roast. I didn’t have many ideas in mind today.” 

“Well, it still smells good,” he added. Once he reached to Alice’s spot, he took over the seat. 

“Wait a moment, Oliver, I still need to fetch a utensil.” However, right as she began entering back into the cottage, her eyes glanced at an Ayu standing by the side. “Oh, you can sit along with him. I prepared a meal for you too.”

“You did?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I knew of Eilwen calling you over for something so I figured you should have something else for the occasion.” 

“Huh,” he said. Hopping from the steps to the porch floor, he replied, “Thank you,” as he sat by Oliver, ready for their first time dining together. 

***

“Alice, why are you taking us inside?” 

“Because,” she led them inside her cottage and the surprisingly various rooms inside. “It’s been some time since you asked me for that gift you mentioned, and I’ve finally gotten what I needed to give it to you.” 

One final turn interrupted Oliver. “Wait, do you mean– oh, my God!” He ran towards the present in astonishment around his face. 

Ayu watched in confusion. What Oliver gushed over in awe appeared to be a piano, but one of old browns and rust. He figured the boy would never be impressed by the quality. Though, the rustic nature had an appeal. 

“Alice, how did you find this?” He squeaked at the press of an out-of-tune key. “This is an antique!” 

He studied the features of the metals and the wood cuts around it all as Alice spoke. “Well, I went and talked to Akeldama about you wanting the instrument, and he happened to have a lot lying around according to him.”

The name rang a bell for both of them, and they both questioned, “Akeldama had this?” 

“Why, yes. He has many items in his pocket dimension.” 

Ayu asked, “And what’s that?” 

“His storage space.”

Oliver cracked up at the fact, but Ayu stood baffled at the idea of Akeldama giving such a gift to Oliver. 

In playfulness, Oliver played a few chords to test. “I wonder how old this is from the lack of tuning… Did Akeldama not care?” 

“He may have not been interested in this one specifically, but it may have been the best he had. And if it needs adjustments, he may still know a thing or two.” 

The offer seemed promising, but Oliver shrugged it off. “Nah, I think this is fine. It fits the old-ness in a way.”

The chords built themselves off more and more, but they all played choppily. And after a few more notes he knew from his own signature instrument, his mind paused. … I don’t know how to play this thing. Through a simple yet rushed transition, he set aside his playing. “I’ll need some practice but honestly, this is great,” he laughed. “Hey Ayu, why don’t you try a little?”

Ayu, staring by the side, whipped his mind awake and asked, “What?”

“Come on a play,” he repeated. 

“Why would I play it? It’s yours…” 

He beamed at him. “Because, it sounds funny. Plus, it’d be nice for you to just try it out since I don’t know much either.”

That smile intimidated Ayu somehow, enough to give in. And he sat beside him on the piano seat. Once some moments of silence set in, he knew Oliver would not guide him yet. Thus, he prodded his fingers onto the keys, one by one, pressing at random. No melody formed, nor did a tempo, or a key, or anything of substance. This went on for multiple seconds to a few minutes. 

The stiffness bothered Oliver to no end, in reality, as his patience stabbed him in the gut for letting Ayu play in such a way. However, an alternative was found to save himself from such experimentation. “Here, let’s teach you a chord.” 

He guided one of Ayu’s hands to the beginning of an octave, and slowly adjusted his fingers to the right keys. Once they aligned correctly, he gently pressed for him to play. 

“That’s what should be a C major chord.” He patted Ayu in the achievement. “And I think you can make up your own now, can you?” 

For a moment, Ayu glared at the keys, carefully placing his fingers over new ones and pressing. 

“Interesting… That’s a suspended chord.”

“You know I won’t remember anything you’re telling me, right,” he asked deadpanned.

Oh no, the attitude is back. “Probably.”

“Oh,” Alice said while in the background. “Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“I assume you’re about to leave, correct?”

Oliver nodded while playing with Ayu. 

“There’s something else I’ve been saving for when you do leave,” she said.

Curious, Oliver turned and stood from his seat towards her. “What is it?” 

Opening her book, she summoned a flat-looking bag in front of them. “When I asked for the piano, Akeldama said to also give you this along with it.” 

She handed it off to him, and both him and Ayu looked at the small bag in confusion whilst the inside felt hollow. “Why’d he give me this?”

She shook her head, “I do not know, but you may open it.”

From the bag, Ayu gathered next to Oliver as well. The strangeness of the gift increased most definitely for both of them, but what was inside still mystified the air. 

Reluctantly, Oliver opened the bag to find the hollow item, and even then, was there more confusion. 

***

Huh, Oliver stared at the gift after his research in his room. From its sheen wood surface that plated itself with small metal keys, it was a confirmed kalimba, or thumb piano as the internet sometimes called it.

Such a strange item, he studied. Its keys played gently of that of a music box for a lullaby, which it technically could be accounted for both literally and purposefully. Sure, it was mix-matched, and the pretty keys were jagged from age, but the sound made up for it all. Melodies formed easily and gracefully even if played choppy from his infers. Honestly, it seemed of some use for his style of music and covers. 

While studying he joked, “Ayu, you can probably master this thing, its super simple.”

But Ayu’s reply was nothing. 

Despite the silence, Oliver continued. So, Akeldama first gives me a switchblade and now a nice, aesthetic instrument? We need to look more into him nowadays. – 

“Hey, Ollie,” Ayu called out from the bedside.

“What is it?”

“Come over here.”

A lopsided look was given to him, but light only illuminated in Oliver’s corner of the room, so Ayu’s expression hid in the darkness. Regardless, Oliver stepped onto the bed by Ayu’s side and asked, “What’s up?” 

And only in the matter of seconds did Ayu tackle him again, only onto the bed and in a shaking hug. He grasped and clung to Oliver as tight as ever, yet the grip was weak and shivering. 

Soon whilst lying down, a sniffle covered the room’s sound, then another, until cries rang onto Oliver’s ears. 

“I,” Ayu trembled in his words, “I’m sorry… I can’t do anything.” 

He continued crying into Oliver’s chest, rubbing his tears all over his sweater. Oliver looked down upon what was occurring, but instead of any surprise or panic, he knew something would arise from that conversation. More than he initially expected. 

He hugged back, cradling the boy’s head in his arms and brushing the tuffs of his hair. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, “I’m here for you, remember?” 

With every comb, his hands faintly touched Ayu’s shaking body. He gasped for the air out of his cries and wailed in choking up. 

“Here, let’s…” Oliver glanced over from their position, in which they were stuck in the middle of the bed, and all of Ayu’s weight hefted onto him. “Let’s get a little bit more comfortable…”

He moved them into the pillows and under the blankets, where Ayu still hung on Oliver under his head.  

“Ayu,” Oliver began, “you’re a good person. I know that for sure.” 

He remained silent, much to Oliver’s incline. 

“You’re probably the best person I’ve ever met. A best friend if you will. We’re best friends, right?” 

He felt a nod underneath him. 

Oliver smiled. “I’m glad… Out of anyone, I think I was the selfish brat at first, but then I met you, as dumb as the introductions were,” He chuckled at his speech. “You changed my life, and helped me realize that I wasn’t going to be alone forever and…” Even he began to choke up at his words. 

“And what,” Ayu croaked. 

“You aren’t going to leave me.” Despite the emotions, Oliver set it aside from Ayu’s turn. “That was my fear, I guess. But you disproved that and you haven’t left me alone since; and, you’re wonderful to be around.”

Only those sniffles were left to handle. 

“You’re more…” Damn, compliments are trickier like this. “You have this stubborn bravery to you that I like. And your simple thinking’s actually calming for me since I overthink half the time… Simple’s the best way to put it; you answer everything as you see it and I think it works for a duo like you and me. Despite everything you’ve been through, you still want to stand with your goals since you know that’s right… That’s what I love about you; you have hope. You had enough hope to give me a chance, to tell me that everything will be better just like I’m telling you right now. I would’ve given up, Ayu, so long ago, and right now I’m stopping you from going down the path I could’ve gone to.”

He hugged Ayu back as tight as he did. 

“I’m sorry if I ever said or did anything to hurt you. I didn’t know what I was saying. You’ve gone through just as much as I have… That’s something else I realized.”

With his words, Ayu kept silent. But finally, he said, “Thank you.” Then asked, “… Can you keep on talking? Just about anything. I want to listen to you.”

He nodded back. “Alright. Anything?” 

“Yeah…” 

Memories of his own request flurried back in Oliver’s mind in his understanding of that need of comfort. “I can talk about how my day was with you, then,” and the words fluttered in Ayu’s ears as he calmed from his stuttered breathing.  

“Oh yeah, there was this thought I had for a while.”

Ayu nuzzled in from the cuddling, still listening to Oliver’s words as it started to dry out from speaking. He listened to his day, his thoughts, his imaginations, ideas, epiphanies, everything that whisked him away somehow. They all expressed mindfulness in each word, and he could not have enough. “What is it?”

“I started thinking about this scenario,” Oliver rasped, “about if the world ended.” 

His own voice drowned in a drowsy state, eyes burning from all the crying and exhaustion. “That doesn’t sound like a nice thought.”

“Obviously not,” he huffed. “But, I was wondering what people would do… and what would I do in that scenario. If the world was dying, and it was only a matter of time for me, or you, or anybody to be next.”

“…And?”

“There wasn’t much I could think of, since it really does depend on how the world ends, but out of all the routes, there’s only one thing I want to do for all of them.”

The nature of the conversation rang dangerous bells for Ayu, yet he continued it with, “What would that be?”

He said, “I would never want to go to sleep.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he explained, “you can die at any point when it’s all over. So, if I’m asleep, I can die in my sleep, and I would never have the chance to goodbye… to anybody.”

His answer spoke to Ayu, and remained as words for him to remember always. However, with his tired mind and recovering state, he replied, “Makes sense… Ollie, can you sing for me?”

He looked down upon him. “Is there a particular reason why?”

“The world’s not ending, so I think I’m ready to sleep right now.”

He chuckled a little, combing his hair once more. “Okay. I’m guessing you want an original.”

“I never heard one so,” Ayu snuggled in with his own smile, “obviously.”

Oliver’s face warmed, but without any embarrassment. “Okay, Ayu.”

And with lyrics for the occasion, he quietly sang a piece from those nights of new beginnings.

“My dearest, 

all the shadows that have followed us have come 

and gone. 

My dearest, 

all the darkest that had weighed me down

is far and long evermore.

My dearest, 

you have come to greet me in a light 

that shines across us every night…

My dearest,

We will roll along again.”

Oliver’s eyes drifted, with his last view being Ayu sleeping by him, his tears gone and his breathing cooled. He smiled as he closed that view, uttering the last words. 

“My dearest, 

We will roll along again.” 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters | Sleepover | First Meal

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 18 #swearing warning #burn warning #blister warning #crippling self doubt warning #missing limb #minor aggressiveness? #apocalypse mention #death mention #bst ayu & oliver #bst eilwen #bst alice #bst akeldama mention

[softbiker]

A Familiar Place - Part 2

Warnings: a bad word or two, literally zero editing 

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: Not sure if I’m satisfied with this, but posting to celebrate hitting 200 followers!! Thanks for being here, I love you all! As always, let me know what you think :) 

This is not an “x Reader” or romance story.

“Okay, I’m 100% sure it’s not supposed to look like that.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“Will you two stop it I can’t hear the instructor.”

Three soldiers exchange glares behind their easels, brushes poised over canvas. Their stools are set in the back of the class, clustered close together so they can peek over each others shoulders. Other easels are arranged  in semi-circle rows towards the front of the classroom, with the instructor at the epicenter, walking back and forth and making comments to the students. To her credit, she tries to ignore the fussing commentary from the back of the room, only sparing them a glance every once in a while.

An oil painting class. Painting was never Steve’s strong suit - he prefers pencils and charcoal, quick messy sketches under his flurried fingers, captured on the spur of the moment. Bucky faintly remembers a smaller, softer Steve, the graphite on his hands, the smudges that covered his nose. Pencil fixed behind his ear, where Bucky would have placed a cigarette. But when they came here, settled into their place in Bed-Stuy, Steve decided to try out something new. And today he invited Sam and Bucky to join him.

Steve takes easily to new mediums, whatever his protests about not being a “natural” painter. Sam has no idea what he’s doing, but Bucky knows that has never stopped him from having a good time.

Bucky, though.

Bucky feels nervous each time he dips his brush, blends his paints. He feels somehow wasteful, putting his own brush to the canvas. Hand him a knife, a gun, hell - even one of Stark’s high-tech weapons, and he’s steady. A deadshot. But a paintbrush? He doubts every stroke and line. Without a talent like Steve’s, he thinks, this canvas would be better off with someone else.

But Steve is having a good time and he hates to ruin that, so Bucky quietly frowns at his canvas, tongue poking between his lips. Today’s class is a still life, their reference a pale blue vase of flowers on a table in the center of the room. Steve has rendered it beautifully, even captured the soft lighting from the windows on the west wall of the room. Sam’s attempt is passable, for someone with no training at all in studio art.

It isn’t that Bucky doesn’t have some skill, or proficiency, or artistic eye. He remembers sitting through a couple of figure drawing classes with Steve - he managed to learn a thing or two, when he wasn’t winking at the models. And his work isn’t bad, he knows that, but -

Well. He doesn’t think it’s worth making.

**********

He keeps coming to the class for a few weeks, when Steve’s schedule is free from missions and meetings, of course. They sit near the back of the room and Bucky makes good attempts but he’s not really sure if he’s making art.

“You know, I’m really not sure if oils are your medium.”

The class is over, and the instructor stands at Bucky’s elbow, looking at the row of paintings laid along the shelf to dry. Bucky had been comparing his work to his classmates, thinking pretty much the same thing.

“Not that you don’t have a hand for painting,” the instructor continues, hands slipping into the pockets of her overalls. “But I think you’re letting it intimidate you - you put too much pressure on yourself and then you hesitate. I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Bucky shrugs. “I guess.” The instructor laughed a little, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“See? You hesitated to tell me that you hesitate.” She was shaking her head with a not unkind smile.

“Jeez - you have a side gig as a therapist?”

“Nope - just good at seeing people.”

Bucky shifted his feet, not used to the feeling of being closely observed - it definitely wasn’t something he liked. Seeming to sense this, the instructor took a step back, shrugging her shoulders and looking away from him.

“Look, you should keep coming,” she offered. “You have some talent, that’s for sure. But you can try other things. Doesn’t have to be oil paint and flowers. What do you want to make?”

Steve is waiting outside the classroom, reading the bulletin board in the hallway. Fluorescent-colored flyers litter the board, interspersed with lost pet ads, ride shares, roommate offers, and piano lessons. Steve fingers one, tears off the number for an Asian cooking class, and tucks the slip of paper in his jacket pocket. He turns when he hears Bucky’s footsteps, that classic smile curling up his mouth.

“You, ready?”

“Yep.”

They take the subway back, dutifully ignoring the raised eyebrows and cell phones that turn their way. It’s New York - sooner or later people get over it. Bucky’s metal hand is wrapped loosely around a pole that Steve leans against, supersoldier strength and balance making him barely shift as the train speeds and slows.

“Sam is supposed to get back from that recon op this afternoon,” Steve says, his voice low enough keep their conversation private. “He’ll probably want takeout for dinner.”

Bucky nods. “He always does, after a mission. Milks it for all he’s worth, so we have to get his favorite - I bet he’ll want fried rice from that Thai place, and we better make sure there’s cold beer in the fridge.”

Steve just smiles, glances down at his sneakers, shifts his feet a little. He’ll never say a word, a single goddamn word, about how much Bucky and Sam pay attention to each other. About Bucky remembering Sam’s takeout order from every single one of their usual places; about Sam bringing home new exotic fruits from the health food market so Bucky could try things that weren’t available back in the day. He will never breathe a single word about how Bucky took Sam’s laundry and scrubbed the blood out after that mission in Denver went bad, or Sam driving back and forth to Bucky’s therapy appointments, in spite of the distance.

Loose lips, Rogers. Nope. His are sealed.

**********

“If I didn’t know any better, I would honest to God think that Stark didn’t respect me,” Sam shakes his head, shovelling rounded lumps of rice into his mouth with his chopsticks. His cheeks are comically full, but he continues to talk. “I mean, the guy really asked if I needed air support. Me? Baby, I am air support.”

Steve makes a noise of assent around a mouthful of noodles that he continues to slurp into his mouth. Bucky says nothing, but smiles into his egg roll. The coffee table in front of them is littered with takeout boxes, some still full, some already emptied. Steve and Bucky have already finished 2 beers each - Sam is drinking at a slower pace so he can continue to talk.

“I fucking invented air support. Pssh.” Sam rolls his eyes, settling back against the cushions of the couch and pulling his standard blanket over his lap.

The TV is set to a sports channel, a college basketball game they’re not too invested in carrying on in the background. Sam talks and talks, the other two barely getting a word in, but that’s alright - he always needs this, after a mission. Sam has to get it all out, decompress, debrief, de-everything in that post-victory rush of adrenaline he’s still high on when he comes home. They let him - they sit around in their sweatpants and half-watch a ballgame and shoot the shit over beers and Thai, and let Sam come back to himself.

“So,” Sam sighs, sipping his beer. “What’d you old farts get up to while I was gone, huh?”

“Mm, not much.” Steve’s reply is muffled as he continues to inhale his noodles. “Art class. Running.”

“Getting some goddamn peace and quiet,” Bucky pipes up, crumpling up the now empty egg roll bag and reaching for a full styrofoam container of steaming fried rice.

“Ha ha.” Sam doesn’t even look up from his food. “Y’all know it’s boring as hell around here without me. And who else is gonna help you two to meet some females? Hm? You think people are lining up to wingman for your hundred-year-old asses? No way!”

“What would we do without you, Sam?” Steve asks, that ironic twist to his mouth that Bucky has known all his life.

“You’d be star-spangled roadkill, I can tell you that much.”

They laugh and settle, eyes passing over the ballgame as one of the teams lines up for a free throw. It’s just the three of them in their little place, but it feels full. It’s enough. It’s home.

**********

Over the next few weeks, Bucky takes the painting instructor’s advice.

He rolls out huge canvases on the floor and slings paint in random patterns, layers of splatter until he feels like his eyes have crossed. The freedom, the lack of pressure, the fun of throwing paint around like a child - all of that he likes, but still.

“Still not sure if it’s my thing,” he tells Steve, as they look at his finished piece propped up against the wall. Steve nods, lips pursed.

“Well, we could hang it up at the compound. Tony keeps talking about needing more art around that place.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“I’m not five, Steve. You don’t have to hang my scribbles on the fridge.”

He goes back to the studio and slings pots - pots and vases and key bowls and jewelry dishes and mugs. They’re passable, usable, functional - these are the words he thinks of when he glazes them in soft blue and yellow shades. Bucky likes the feel of it under his fingers, the wet firmness of the clay that yields to his hands. He’s gotten little bits of dried clay between the metal plates of his arm, but he doesn’t mind - he’s learned they’re easy enough to dislodge with a toothbrush. He gives away or takes home all of his little projects, happy to see them used.

Sam gifts him with a polaroid camera he found going through some of his parents things, and Bucky fiddles with it until he’s quite good at taking pictures. Whenever they go out he has his camera slung around his neck, an extra packet of film and a flashbar in his backpack. He has dozens of photos now - photos of Steve sipping coffee and flipping off the camera. Photos of Sam and Rhodey laughing, in full gear, when the team had drinks at the compound last month. A few photos of Natasha and Wanda, who come over to the brownstone sometimes - Natasha’s legs are folded over the end of the couch, while Wanda gets a piggyback ride from Steve. He tacks the pictures up, covering nearly half of the wall of his bedroom, not caring about the holes he leaves in the drywall.

It’s Wanda who introduces him to knitting, one weekend when both Steve and Sam get called out on a potential terror situation in London. There’s a rule - unspoken, unwritten - among Steve’s friends that someone comes to check on Bucky whenever they have to leave him alone. He doesn’t protest, knowing that they do it out of kindness and loyalty to Steve; he knows all about being loyal to Steve.

Wanda sits cross-legged on the couch, her fingers working the knitting needles at a hypnotic pace. He likes Wanda; she’s quiet and sensitive, all soft smiles and knowing eyes. A room always feels calmer with her in it. She had used his hands earlier to loop the yarn, and now he watches her over the top of his book, which he has all but abandoned.

When he asks her about the knitting, if she can show him, she looks up. Soft smiles and knowing eyes.

Bucky has always been good with his hands, so no one is surprised that he’s good at knitting. Eventually, they all have something he’s made: a beanie for Sam, a scarf for Steve, fingerless gloves for Wanda, and blankets galore for their too-cold brownstone.

**********

It fills up his time, somehow.

Bucky makes drawings, and paintings, and little origami birds out of grocery receipts. He makes bowls he can give to his friends and pictures that he can keep and blankets that he can share. He scours google and breaks a few (literal) eggs and makes banana bread that fills the brownstone with a smell that he could float on. He makes pancakes and poems and -

Bucky makes.

On the subway with Steve - a figure drawing class tonight - Bucky is staring at his hands. Ungloved metal and soft scarred flesh. His hands are tools, they’re instruments. They can be molds or looms or brushes or chisels.

“Weapons” doesn’t even enter his mind at all.

Tags:

@vacant-writings

@bitsandbobsandstuff

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #stucky #sambucky #marvel #marvel fic

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Prologue: Crying in the Club

Next

Summary: Remy carries the sting of a thousand small cruelties. But he knows who he is, and he’s not going to change for anyone. After all, he’s never met anyone worth changing for.

Yet.

Warnings: underaged drinking, mentioned drug use, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, acephobia, arophobia, general ignorant asshattery

Remy is fifteen when he realizes that he has no friends.

He had always been popular- adults called him “charismatic” and “good with others” and a “social butterfly”. The kids called him “cool as fuck”. He held his head high, wore his shades inside, spoke sass like it was his native tongue. He didn’t walk, he sauntered.

For as long as he could remember he had been surrounded by people- people laughing with him, and inviting him to every event, and crowding around him at lunch, and maybe he kept them at arm’s length a bit but he still called them ‘friends’. But then one day his dad has to work late and Remy sat on the front steps on the school to wait for him, scrolling through apps on his phone, when one of the students sitting around him asks, “why doesn’t your mom just take you home?”

It feels like ice water over Remy’s head, and he’s glad he has his sunglasses on so they can’t see the way his eyes widen as he snaps his head to look at the girl who spoke. Her name is Emily and they’ve gone to school together since middle school, and Remy sees her almost everyday, and they talk at lunch and during science, and she has no idea that Remy’s mom is out of the picture. He looks around and realizes that no one in the crowd around him knows about the messy divorce his parents went through when he was twelve, how he started sleeping with his headphones on and blasting music to drown out the yelling and then never stopped because now he needs to drown out his own thoughts, and that his mom isn’t allowed to be around Remy unless his dad is there but she’d rather not be around either of them so it works out he guesses. They don’t know that it was Remy’s fault.

And if he’s really honest with himself? If they knew they wouldn’t care.

Because they’re not his friends.

Remy smirks, tilting his head to look at Emily over his glasses, “Gurl, you know I never miss an opportunity to loiter.” There are some laughs and chuckles, and Remy turns back to his phone and frowns, turning up some music so he doesn’t have to think about it.

~

“So you don’t like sex?”

Remy shrugged, scribbling in answers to the worksheet for her next class, “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you said you’re asexual.”

She had said that, yes. She just hadn’t realized her coming out required a goddamn lecture, “Yeah, being ace doesn’t automatically mean you don’t like sex. It’s about attraction.”

“But if you’re ace and have sex, then what’s the point of even saying you’re ace?”

“It doesn’t work like that, it’s-” Remy let out a huff of frustration, turning to the boy hassling her, “you literally carry a supercomputer in your pocket. Put it to use and Google it, bitch.”

The other student rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t say you’re ace if you’re willing to have sex! It’s just pointless!”

“Not nearly as pointless as this conversation,” Remy deadpanned, gathering her things as she stood from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I lose IQ when I’m subjected to bullshit for too long.” She doesn’t wait to hear any replies, just saunters off without a second glance.

~

Remy doesn’t know how she feels about sex. But she stops trying to figure it out. The last things she needs is more ammo used against her identity.

~

Kevin enters the picture in the middle of Remy’s sophomore year.

The junior had transferred from a school on the other side of town. It was another boy in their circle who introduced Kevin to the rest of them, otherwise Remy doubts he would have ever noticed the boy- blonde, average height, average build, so plain he could star in a Disney Channel show.

Remy didn’t expect to get along, if only because he spent their first meeting dragging the boy to Hell and back. “There are still people named Kevin?” He raised an eyebrow, “that’s so basic. Next you’re gonna tell me you have an Aunt June or something.”

“Um, well…” the junior seemed caught off guard by the snark, but flushed slightly at the last comment.

“Nooooo….” disbelief spread across Remy’s face, “You’re shitting me.”

He shrugged, “My dad has a sister named June.”

“Okay, well… You dad isn’t named like… John, or Bob, or whatever, right?”

“Uh….” Kevin glanced around the lunch table, searching for some kind of support, but was met with glances ranging from amusement to pity, “His name’s Carl?”

"For fucks sake Kevin,” Remy threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation, “Let me guess your mom's named Alice or some shit with an A huh?"

Across from him, the junior sighed in defeat, “…Allison.”

Snickers rang through the group, but Remy found himself pushing his sunglasses up onto head so he could look Kevin in the eye as he grinned good-naturedly, “Any siblings?”

Luckily, the newest student seemed to get the message that it was all in good fun, grinning back, “I have a sister.”

“I swear if her name is anything related to Britney or Jessica I will scream.”

Kevin smirked, “Tiffany.”

Remy clapped his hands together in emphasis, “BASIC. BITCH.”

“Oh come on, Sleep,” the girl next to him pushed him playfully, “not everyone can be as extra as you.”

He gasped dramatically, “I am not extra,” He pulled his sunglasses back on with a grin, “I’m elite.”

The teens around him laughed, even Kevin, and he decided the kid wasn’t so bad.

~

Remy had been 15 when she got her pronoun necklace. At that point she had identified as genderfluid for almost two years. She had tried to wear pronoun pins before, but always seemed to forget them in the morning or misplace them in her disaster of a room. The necklace lives on the side table beside to her bed, right next to her sunglasses. On the first day wearing it to school, she pointed it out to the students surrounding her at the lunch table.

“I know y'all can read, so I made this real simple for ya,” Remy had always been open about her gender, and figured this would help curb the misgendering, “It’s color coded and everything.” The other kids laughed and nodded, carrying on with their conversations, but Remy felt a little better, and her smile was a little more genuine that day.

Just that day, though.

It didn’t surprise her, exactly, the way no one bothered to even glace down to check her pronouns. The way she was waved off dismissively when she tried to correct them. But it still stung.

“How was I supposed to know?” Ariel, Remy’s partner for an English assignment snapped out after the third time Remy corrected her on her pronouns.

“I don’t know, maybe the ‘she’ hanging around my neck, or one of the multiple times I’ve told you. Take your pick, cause if you can’t read or listen, this project is gonna be hell and I will not hesitate to drag you down with me.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, “You say you’re a girl or whatever, but you look the same as you always do!”

“Yeah, genderfluid people don’t acquire their shapeshifting abilities until they turn eighteen. Is that not common knowledge in the cis community?” Remy mocked.

“I mean you’re dressed the same, bitch,” the other girl crossed her arms, glaring, “Like, you’re not wearing a skirt or anything girly!”

“Neither are you, bitch,” despite her best effort, Remy raised her voice, gesturing at Ariel’s jeans and shirt, “I didn’t realize you were born in the 1930’s, but honestly if we’re judging based off clothes I’m gonna assume your pronouns are ‘ignorant trash’!”

“Remy!” The teacher stormed over to the girls’ table, “That’s enough!”

“Damn straight it is,” Remy crossed her arms, “I want a new partner. Ideally someone who doesn’t have a negative IQ.”

Ariel screeches and soon both girls are yelling, words and curses blending together as the teacher shoves her way between them and fights to regain order.

Remy gets a new partner.

~

Remy goes to a college party wearing the shortest skirt she owns and too much makeup. Someone offers her some sort of pill and it’s not a school night so she takes it. She doesn’t remember much, but she remembers she didn’t feel sad, and in the morning she decides to start growing out her hair.

~

For awhile, Kevin is just another face in the crowd Remy surrounds themselves with. But the more Remy felt distant from the rest of their peers, the closer Kevin seemed to feel. He had been so nonchalant when Remy came out to him, not hassling them about it or badgering them with questions. Whenever he sat down at lunch, Remy would catch him glancing at the pronoun necklace and following it’s guidance like so few in their group did. For every hurtful word or ignorant comment, Kevin would be there, complementing Remy’s comebacks or rolling his eyes, smiling at Remy and stating “some people are so dumb”. He sits next to Remy on the front steps of the school and puts his arm around their shoulders and Remy lets him.

It should feel natural, the two of them getting together.

“Come on,” Kevin whispers, hand on Remy’s cheek to pull them closer, the two of them behind the bleachers after school like a bad cliche, “I like you. Do… do you like me?”

Remy doesn’t know how to answer that. But they know how they should.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

People always say you’re supposed to date your best friend, right?

~

Dating Kevin is… weird. Not too much changes, they suppose, but the things that do change make Remy’s stomach clench in a way they don’t really understand. They think kissing is supposed to feel nicer than it does. They think having a hand around their waist should feel safe instead of nerve wracking. They think they should be grateful to be given flowers instead of off put.

But all the good is still there. Their friend is still there. So it’s fine. It’s worth it.

~

They’re in Kevin’s room, laying on his bed, homework forgotten on the floor as they kiss lazily. Remy had kind of been hoping to actually just work on homework instead of being tugged onto the bed again, but he doesn’t think much of it anymore, happy enough to be spending time with the older boy. Or at least, he was, until Kevin slides his hand up Remy’s thigh and starts tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Grabbing Kevin’s wrist, Remy immediately pulls away, “That’s a no-fly zone, hon.” He tries to keep his voice light, despite the confusion he feels because Kevin knows this, knows Remy.

But Kevin moves to kiss his neck, twisting his wrist out of Remy’s hand and placing it on Remy’s hip, “Babe, it’s been almost six months. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Remy pushes him away a little more forcefully, “Uh, I don’t know if you’re suffering some sort of amnesia right now but I’m ace. This isn’t something we wait for it’s something we don’t do.”

“Come on, I’m your boyfriend.”

Something about the way he says it, like it should be the end of the conversation, makes Remy acutely aware of his position lying beneath him; the way Kevin looms over him and won’t back off.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest when he abruptly sits up and pulls away, finally getting some distance between the two of them, “Yeah, and I’m still ace. You’ve know this practically since we met!”

Kevin starts getting a little heated, throwing his arms out in frustration, “Yeah, but we’re dating. I didn’t think it applied to me.”

“Excuse me?” Now Remy is standing, fuming, fists clenched even as he backs away from the bed, “You didn’t think my orientation ‘applied’ to you?”

“Well I thought you loved me.”

And that makes Remy’s breath catch in his throat. His vision tunnels till all he can see is his best friend. And he wants to say ‘I do’, he wants to say ‘not like this’, he wants to say ‘don’t make me prove it’.

He wants to say, ‘I thought you loved me, too.’

But he can’t get any words out, and so Kevin keeps talking, patronizing, “Look, I get if you don’t want to bang random people or whatever, but I’m your boyfriend. You’re not being fair to me.”

Remy swallows thickly, and finally managed to grind out, “I didn’t take you for the ‘dumb jock’ type, but I find it hard to believe you’ve got multiple brain cells when you sprout ignorant shit like that.”

“Oh, well sorry if I don’t know all the intricacies of you being a prude.” It hits like a punch to the gut, and Kevin rolls his eyes, his face smug like he’s just won, like he’s waiting for Remy to fold and like Hell is that happening. Remy feels like he’s on autopilot, spine straightening, chin up, eyes cold, looking down his nose at Kevin like he was the dirt on his shoe instead of the crumbling remains of the best friend he had ever had.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have realized “no” was too complex of a concept for you. After all, you’ve barely known me a year and most dogs take at least a week to learn that word.”

Across from him, Kevin’s face fell, first into shock, then into fury. He opened his mouth but Remy didn’t let him get a word in.

“It’s okay, most toddlers have trouble with it, but I’ll try to explain the best I can. No, we’re not having sex. No, you don’t always get what you want. No, you can’t tell me what to do. No, we’re not dating anymore since I have become suddenly acutely aware of how out of your league I am. You need me to say it again slower? Or would you rather have a visual?” Remy flipped him off, stone faced even as Kevin’s turned red with rage.

Gathering his things, Remy ignores all the names hurled his way, all the accusations and curses and insults. He refuses to flinch when he hears something crash, though he walks to the door a little faster.

Kevin tries to get the last word in, shouting at his back, “Good! I didn’t sign up for half a boyfriend!”

Remy doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even turn around.

“You couldn’t handle half.”

The door slams behind him.

His footsteps seem to echo through the empty street. Evening has fallen, the sky darkening from pink to deep reds and orange. Remy manages to get a few blocks away from Kevin’s house when he can’t hold it back anymore, and he ducks into an alley between two apartment complexes. Leaning against the brick wall, it feels like everything in him collapses and he finds himself sliding down to curl on the dirty ground and sob into his knees.

The worst part is, Remy already knows that everyone will pour out false sympathies for the breakup, for the fact that he doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore. And Remy won’t correct them; won’t explain that he honestly doesn’t care about the end of the romantic relationship, but that he broke down in an alleyway because he lost his best friend. His only friend.

And logically he knows that he’s been here before. He remembers having no friends before Kevin, being alone in a crowd and he knows that he survived it before. But he doesn’t remember it hurting quite this bad.

This aftermath is so much worse than anything from before, and Remy decides that none of the good times in between were worth it. Not at all.

~

For about a week Kevin and Remy’s breakup is the talk of the school. The masses that huddle around Remy coo and send him pitying glances, telling him there are more fish in the sea while Remy smiles stiffly and nods along. Kevin has a lot to say and he says it loudly. But Remy stays so calm and cool, saying nothing except to cut down anyone who tried to make him explain his side, it was hard to take much of what Kevin said seriously. To an outsider Kevin seemed like a rambling peasant, trying to smudge the Ice Queen’s name. Remy ignored him. Soon everyone else did too.

His dad tries to talk to him. Remy had come home, face blank and empty as he explained that he had broken up with Kevin.

“What happened?” Picani asked, concerned, “Things seemed to be going so well.”

Remy had only shrugged, “It just wasn't working out.”

“I'm so sorry, Sleepyhead,” he pulled his child close in a one sided hug, “I know breakups are tough. I'm here if you want to talk, okay?” Remy had nodded against his chest, and then locked himself in his room.

Picani tried to bring it up a few times after that, even offering at one point to see if one of his old coworkers from the therapy practice he used to work at could fit Remy in for a session or two. But Remy always smiled and shook his head, “It's just teen angst, pop. I'll be fine, promise.”

Still. For about two weeks after that, Remy comes home after school and immediately collapses into bed. Being awake wasn’t very fun.

Finally, almost a month after Remy had their heart ripped out, they sit up in bed, where they’ve been for the three hours since they got home, and realize how pathetic they are.

Fuck this. Remy doesn’t want to sit at home and feel sad. They don’t want to be frustrated and confused and alone with their goddamn thoughts. They decide right then and there that that’s not who they’re going to be.

Filled with determination, they get to their feet, pulling their phone out and scrolling through old messages- there was always someone having a party in this city. Sure enough by the time they’re dressed and pulling on their jacket they have the address of some rich senior who doesn’t mind a bunch of teenagers destroying his parents’ house.

“Hey dad, I’m going over to a friend’s house tonight!” Remy calls out as they head for the front door.

Picani peeks his head out from his office, “Oh, I didn’t know you had plans.”

Remy turned and shrugged, “It was kind of a last minute thing. But I’ll be back in the morning.”

The counselor had a look of concern on his face, “Alright. Text me when you get there?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay,” Remy was already walking away, not noticing their father’s worried eyes following him, “Stay safe, Sleepyhead.”

~

Remy is just killing time before his next class, leaning against a wall and fiddling with his phone, when the jock approached him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the other student smirks.

Raising an eyebrow, Remy looked the boy up and down. He recognized the boy as a recent transfer, a stereotypical football player that Remy thought only existed on tv and cliche teen movies.

“‘Sweetheart’? That’s your opener? Do you get all your lines from B movies? Try silent films, you’ll have more luck.”

A flash of annoyance crossed the other’s face, vanishing as he straightened to stand a little taller, “You know, when they said you had a mouth on you, I was hoping they meant in a… different way,” he leered blatantly.

Rolling his eyes, Remy turned back to his phone, “You clearly weren’t listening then. Any “they” talking about me knows I’m not into that,” he responded cooly.

The other boy only raises an eyebrow, “What, don’t tell me you’re actually straight?”

Remy scoffed, “Did I say I’m straight? I’m ace.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, “So you’re straight.”

“Are your ears just for decoration?” Remy crossed his arms, “I’m ace. I’m not interested in sex with anyone, gender’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe you just need the right person to change your mind,” the boy purrs, putting a hand on Remy’s hip and leaning over him, looming.

Remy gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest in sarcastic shock, “Oh my God! I didn’t know it was possible!” He leaned forward, looking straight into the other’s eyes, “You’ve managed to make me even less interested!” The jock sputtered indignantly, but Remy just smirked and slid around him, not bothering to lower his voice as he walked away, “If I wasn’t ace before, picturing you in bed turned me off for good.”

The hallway fills with whispers and giggles, and Remy knows he won, but he still needs to hide in the restroom for ten minutes because his heart is still pounding from the feeling of being cornered.

He’s not short, but he starts wearing boots with a bit of a heel on them anyway. He feels safer being able to look down on most of his classmates.

~

Maybe being awake wasn’t the problem, it was being sober, Remy decided.

Her laugh came easier after a few cheap beers. A couple shots and she could dance without a care. If she gets drunk enough she can forget that her happiness is an act.

It’s a solid system.

~

Remy is sitting on the steps outside of school, the usual suspects sitting around him as they all passed the time before classes started. Tired and frustrated from a long week, Remy had started ranting about the number of fuckbois at the school, when one of the guys next to them rolled his eyes.

“I mean, you do lead them on.*

Pushing their glasses up onto their forehead, Remy raised an eyebrow, “Literally everyone knows I’m ace. I don’t exactly hide it. How is that leading them on?”

“Well you don’t act asexual.”

“You don’t act like a single-celled organism and yet here we are.”

“I’m just saying,” the boy held his hands up in defense, “that you‘re always flirting with people.”

“Uh, yeah. Flirting is fun. But last I checked talking shit wasn’t the same as agreeing to do the nasty in a broom closet between classes.”

“Wait, did that happen?” A girl on the other side of him chimed in.

Remy shrugged, “No, it didn’t, which made a certain asshole very upset because apparently I broke some sort of unspoken contract by putting a stop to all that nonsense.”

The first boy leaned back, waving his hands in surrender, “Whatever man. I just don’t know what you expect when you…. You know,” he gestured vaguely at them.

Huffing, Remmy leaned forward on their knees, “Yeah, well, my expectations get lower everyday.”

~

Remy loves getting drunk and dancing in the very center of a crowd of people. He loves the warm buzz, and the feeling of human contact without any sort of obligation. He wears tanks and crop tops just to get some feeling on his skin.

~

“So, Sleep, interested in anyone these days?”

The girl leaning next to Remy’s locker bats her eyelashes, an unspoken but clear, interested in me? She’s vaguely familiar, just like everyone else. They don’t know each other.

Glancing over, Remy snorted, “I’m more interested in the state of my cuticles than anyone in this school, hon.” For a moment, the girl looks almost hurt, and Remy finds herself softening, “I’m not into dating. I realized I’m aromantic.”

There’s a beat of silence as the other girl absorbs the information. Suddenly, her eyes widen, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, that’s so sad!”

That made Remy raise an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean,” she has her hands over her heart, looking at Remy with pity like she was a Hallmark movie widow, “you’re gonna be alone forever.”

“Riiiiiight,” Remy drawls, hiding her hurt beneath patronization, “I forgot about how you’re only allowed to interact with a significant other. Ever since that ban on friends and family. Rough times for all single girls.” She wiped away a fake tear.

“You know what I mean,” the other girl frowned, “Are you sure you want that? I mean you’ve dated before, isn’t it better to not be alone?”

And Remy decided right then and there, “No.” She slammed her locker shut, keeping her gaze haughty as she sauntered away, “None of you fuckers are good enough for me anyway.”

~

Remy is in someone’s basement, belly full of whiskey, laughing with a group of people whose names she doesn’t know and pretending she didn’t come here alone.

~

During lunch, Remy noticed a boy, Travis he thinks his name is, staring at Remy’s backpack.

“Dude, if you want the homework answers all you had to do was ask, not stare a hole into my bag.

Travis jumped, startled, but then he smirked, “I was just looking at your pins,” He gestured to the large buttons on the front of Remy’s bag. They were all different flags- a rainbow, the nonbinary flag, genderfluid flag, ace and aro flags, and a large pink button that just had the word “QUEER” in curly black font. Travis shook his head, still smiling, “You have too many things.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Pardon?”

“I just mean, most people are just gay, or trans, or whatever. You don’t have to be every letter in the alphabet you know.”

He said it so nonchalantly, Remy felt his teeth clench, “Sorry we can’t all be minimalist straight boys.”

Snickers sound through the group, and Travis snorts and rolls his eyes jokingly, and the conversation is forgotten.

~

That night Remy can’t find a party, so he sneaks into a club. He stands in front of booming speakers and loses count of how many shots he has, and doesn’t think about how he somehow manages to be too much and not enough at the same time.

~

Remy is eighteen when he stumbled through the front door, trying to close the door quietly behind him. But the effort was for naught, as the lights turned on, and when he twisted around, his father was standing in the entryway, eyes alight with worry and anger.

“Where have you been? It’s after two in the morning on a school night, I left you five messages and I don’t even know how many texts!”

“I’m sorry, I just lost track of time,” the teenager rubbed his forehead, slipping his sunglasses off to hold at his side. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” He tried to walk past his dad, one hand on the wall to try to keep his balance, but Picani grabbed his wrist.

“No! We are talking about this right now! You can't just-” he paused when he noted how the teen was swaying, “Remy are you drunk?” His voice was incredulous.

Remy blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his clouded thoughts, “I-“ he pulled his arm roughly out of his father’s grip, “I had a few drinks, that’s all! It’s not like I drove or anything-“

“It’s still irresponsible, and unsafe!” Picani raised his voice, brows furrowed with anger and worry, “You didn’t even tell me where you were going tonight! What if something had happened? I wouldn’t even know where to start looking!”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Remy rolled his eyes, “It’s high schoolers drinking, it’s not that big of a deal!”

“It’s a big deal because I know you’re lying to me!” The counselor’s voice continued to increase in volume. He knew he needed to calm down, to keep his composure and discuss what was happening rationally, to explain his side with a level head. But it was hard.

Because this was Remy. This was his child standing in front of him, swaying on his feet, hands trembling at his sides, with dark circles under his glaring eyes and hair a wild mess. It was jarring to see how very not okay his child seemed. And Picani felt his rationality slipping through his fingers.

“You’ve been staying out later and later, you never talk to me, your grades have been slipping, and now this-?”

“I get it dad, I’m a problem child!” He tried to look angry, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice, or the glassy look in his eyes as he ran shaking fingers through his hair.

Picani felt something like desperation rise in him as he took a step forward, “That’s not what I’m saying. But Remy, this isn’t you-“

“I am so sick of everyone telling me who I am!” There was a quiet crash as Remy hurled his sunglasses at the wall, the lenses splintering into several shards. Chest heaving, the teen looked up at his father with venom in his eyes, “It’s like mom all over again.”

The words are quiet, and sharp, and suddenly Picani feels like he can’t breathe.

For a moment they both stand, looking at each other and wondering how exactly they got here. Then Remy turns, and without a word, he walks into his room and slams the door behind him.

~~~~

The next morning, Remy comes downstairs and sits across from his dad at the kitchen table before school and lets out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Picani stares down into his coffee, “Me too.”

Remy keeps his eyes on the table, “I’ll do better. I promise.”

There is still something wrong. All his years of training as a therapist and a counselor scream at him to do something- to skip work and school and stay here and find out why his child looks so tired and hurt and what happened and they can’t just leave things like this-

But when he opens his mouth, the words die in his throat.

Remy doesn’t need another controlling parent.

“Okay,” he nods. And then he stands, because if they don’t leave soon they’re going to be late. “Okay.”

~

Picani gives him more space, and Remy gets better at hiding his habits, and they don’t talk about it again.

~

Graduation comes and goes in a blur. Remy hugs people he has no intention of seeing ever again. His dad cries, holding him close and taking an absurd amount of pictures. A part of Remy feels a spark of warmth at how his father glows with pride, how he had jumped up and down during the ceremony, shouting when Remy’s name was called, “That’s my kid! That’s my kid!” like he wanted the whole world to know. The counselor had been so understanding when Remy had chosen not to go to college, instead applying to be an apprentice at a tattoo shop downtown. When he got accepted, Picani had grinned widely and demanded they celebrate.

“Oh, I can’t wait to get something done by you!” He had clapped his hands excitedly.

Remy smirked, “I mean, you *did* kind of give me the idea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Picani winked sarcastically, crossing his uncovered and heavily tatted arms in emphasis.

A huff of laughter escaped Remy as he turned back to the computer in front of him, continuing to fill out the apartment application open in front of him. As he typed, his father moved to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the form for the small studio apartment.

“Remy… are you sure you don’t want to just live at home a little longer? You know I don’t mind.”

“I know,” Remy looked up to smile gently at him, the man’s face apprehensive and cautious, “and I know it doesn’t look like much, but I don’t mind having a smaller space while I work through my apprenticeship. I’m just…” she took a moment to consider her words. Trying to work around the truth without lying, “I want to start the next phase, you know? Start being an adult.”

Picani still looked concerned, so Remy smiled, leaning against his shoulder, “I won’t be far. You’ll still see me all the time, and I’ll still come by to raid the fridge and do laundry and watch Steven Universe.”

The counselor grinned, putting his arm around his child in a half hug, “Well, I guess when you put it that way…” He swiftly pulled Remy into a full embrace, crying out dramatically, “I guess I just wasn’t ready for my little Sleepyhead to grow up so fast!”

“Daaaaaad!” Remy laughed, halfheartedly struggling to escape.

~

It doesn’t take long to move Remy into his apartment. The space is small, so he only brought a few pieces of furniture. A mattress on the floor, a thrift store loveseat, an old crate to serve as a temporary side table, and a couple lamps. A few boxes and a suitcase held the rest of Remy’s life that he wanted to take with him.

Picani still seems apprehensive, but Remy does his best to soothe him, “I literally just moved in. It’ll look better once I get settled.”

“I know, you’re right,” his dad smiled, “I just can’t believe you’re all grown up now.”

“Taller than you and everything,” Remy joked.

“Only by a couple inches!” Picani cried indignantly, his lips twitching towards a smile.

Shaking his head fondly, Remy opened his arms, “Come on, it’s getting late and you have work tomorrow.”

Pulling his child into a hug, Picani gripped him tight, “I’m always a phone call away.”

“I know dad.”

Their goodbyes stretch a moment longer before the counselor finally takes his leave. The door clicks shut, and Remy moves to sit on the mattress, staring ahead blankly and waiting for twenty minutes to pass, as though his father might come back and catch him if he doesn’t wait. But he’s suddenly struck by the knowledge that he’s on his own now.

Nothing is against the rules anymore.

He doesn’t have to sneak around. He can leave his music blasting while he dumps out his suitcase and finds his fake ID and his favorite club outfit. There is freedom in being alone. No one to tell him who to be, or tell him to change, or be disappointed whether he does or not.

He’s free.

It’s dark outside by the time Remy finishes his makeup and grabs his keys. He grins as he walks down the street, heading towards a night of strangers and mindless noise and bodies pressed against each other without obligation and alcohol to drown out whatever the music couldn’t.

Yeah. Being alone is better.

Remy repeats that to himself a few more times as he makes his way into the night.

#punk au #winter winds #punk remy #remy/october #(sleepy hallow) #transphobia #transphobia tw #enbyphobia #nbphobia #exorsexism #hahahaha watch no one like this story #I tried #YEET

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

Colour Me In

I tried to repress it, then I carried its crown I reached out to undress it and love let me down Love let me down

So I tried to erase it, but the ink bled right through Almost drove myself crazy when these words led to you

And all these useless dreams of living alone Like a dogless bone

So come let me love you Come let me love you and then color me in

lyrics by Damien Rice

Eliza laughed as her Maltipoo, Oliver, spun in a circle on his hind legs begging for a treat. They were seated at a small table at Marian's Cafe and Bakery. She set the treat on his nose and happened to look up to see a handsome dark haired boy come up to the counter. Eliza and Oliver came here everyday but she'd never seen him before. Eliza quickly noticed his biceps, bulging and tattooed, before her eyes trailed up to see broad shoulders and a ridiculously sculpted jawline. He smiled at the cashier and Eliza felt her own cheeks get warm even though he wasn't looking at her. She realized he'd caught sight of Oliver and she quickly shifted her attention back to her dog before she was caught staring.

Calum noticed the little grey and white curly dog doing tricks and he couldn't help but smile. If he was honest he preferred dogs to people most of the time. It was his turn to order and he stepped up to the counter. He didn't come here often, but this place had the best cinnamon rolls he'd ever had. They were the size of a saucer and topped straight out of the oven with butter, cinnamon and sugar and then icing. Cal always had to buy two because he ate the first one so quickly. They made these dog treats that Duke went nuts over, so Calum got a bag of those too.  He stepped back to wait for his order to come up, his eyes wandering back to the cute little dog.

This time he noticed the tan high heeled leather boots the dog was standing against, and he finally took a good look at the dog's owner. She had skin the colour of caramel, with hair as dark and curly as his own, pulled into a messy bun on top of her head.  She was dressed in a white knee length belted cardigan with leggings. She wasn't showing off her figure but Calum could tell she was carrying a few pounds. He didn't mind that at all, he'd always been a sucker for curvy girls.

Everything about this girl looked soft and appealing and Calum had the urge to run his finger down one of her round cheeks just to touch her. Until her pink tongue darted across her full lips her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she concentrated on her dog. The obscene thoughts that rushed into Calum's brain were quickly interrupted by one of the cafe workers bringing her breakfast. The mystery girl looked up and appeared to blow a kiss at the server which Calum thought was different but cute. When the server responded with a hand gesture it dawned on Calum what he was seeing. His mystery girl was deaf, he didn't have a chance.

Later that week, Ashton was sitting at the piano when he could smell cinnamon before Calum walked into the rehearsal space with a huge cardboard box. Cal had seemed agitated the past couple days, but today he was beaming as he entered the room.

“You're in a good mood today Cal,” Luke teased him as the cinnamon rolls were being handed out. “You get laid last night?”

Calum blushed but shook his head. “Nah nothing like that.”

“Something's up with you,” Mikey bit into his breakfast. “These really are the fucking best. I was starving, thanks dude.”

“I heard Natasha has been in your DMs lately. I bet that's why your smiling” Ashton laughed, knowing Calum's conquests were legend in their group.

Calum didn't have relationships, he had bedmates. He was always up front and honest with them that he didn't want and wouldn't have a girlfriend. The girls who got clingy were quickly dismissed, but a few had been tough enough to stick around for a few weeks. He wasn't malicious or callous about it. He liked women, but just never caught feelings the way they did. Cal found it cruel to continue seeing someone once that happened so eventually he let them go. He'd met Natasha at a friend's party, she was an Instagram model and he hadn't hooked up in a while.

However Natasha wasn't the girl he'd had on his mind. He'd specifically gone to the cafe this morning hoping to see his mystery girl. When he'd seen her sitting at the same little table he'd gotten butterflies. Calum wasn't used to that and he tripped over his own feet knocking over a stack of metal serving trays next to the register trying to catch himself. Embarrassed, he glanced up to find everyone looking at him except her. Of course she hadn't heard the commotion, but her dog had.

Eliza felt the leash almost slip out of her hand. She hadn't been paying attention when Oliver jumped up from his doze and tried to bolt. Frantically pulling her dog back towards her Eliza looked around to see what he was reacting to. Her eyes went wide when she saw the handsome man from the other day, his curls a mess and a blush creeping up his neck. He was picking up trays off the floor and seemed to be apologizing to Marian, the owner of the cafe who had been behind the counter. He looked up and caught her eye and Eliza felt her throat go dry and her heart was pounding so hard she thought she might pass out. Oliver was still pulling so she tore her gaze away to soothe her dog. Finally she got him settled down, but when she glanced back up she saw Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome still talking to Marian, only both of them were now looking at her. She saw the words, “dog” and “sorry” before watching his lips move got her too flustered and she had to look away again.

Calum was mortified by his clumsiness but the cafe owner was helping him pick everything up when he heard barking. The noise had scared mystery girl's dog who was now letting him know he didn't appreciate it one bit. When he glanced from that pooch to the owner he caught her looking at him and he almost dropped the trays he was holding. Regaining his composure he stood up and continued apologizing until the older woman held a hand up.

“Accidents happen young man, it'll be fine. I'm Marian, I own the place, I've seen you in here a couple times, 2 cinnamon rolls and a pack of canine cookies right?And you would be?” She asked extending her hand.

“I'm Calum, it's nice to meet you. Actually I was going to get six of them today. I'm taking some to rehearsal. I think I scared that pretty girl's dog, maybe I'll buy a treat for him.” Calum shook her hand trying to play it cool.

Marian knew what he was up to though. “Pretty girl huh? That's Eliza and Oliver, two of my favorite customers.” She caught Eliza stealing glances at the handsome stranger and got an idea.

“I'm sure Oliver would love a treat, and she's a sucker for my lemon tarts, I can box some up and you can take them over to apologize. She's difficult to chat up though.” Marian watched his face.

“Because she's deaf? I mean I've seen her before and I think she was signing but I don't want to make assumptions,” He was babbling now.

“Easy Calum, yes she's deaf. Did you want to take these over or no?” the older lady held up the box along with his order.

His phone went off just then making him frown. “Damn,” Calum cursed under his breath. “Do you have a pen?” She handed him one and he scribbled a note onto the box. “Could you give this to her.”

“Don't be scared, take it yourself” she urged him.

Calum swallowed and thought “fuck it” as he walked up to her table. She blinked in surprise when she looked up and he was standing right there. He gave her an awkward little wave and a smile as he set the box down as Oliver sniffed his shoes. She glanced over at Marian who just gave her a wink, but before she could react any farther he was gone and headed out the door.

She read, “I'm sorry I scared your little guy. I'm a doggy dad myself, maybe we could set up a playdate for the kids? Text me... Calum,” and there was a phone number underneath.

She stared at the number and name ignoring Marian staring at her for a moment, she needed a minute to think.

Calum was leaving rehearsal when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It had been a productive session with the guys once they'd finally pestered him enough to get the story of his mystery girl out of him.

“So she's deaf? How are you going to talk to her?” Luke had been confused.

“I don't know what you think you're doing,” Ashton shook his head.

“I'm not sure yet, but we can text. I might be making a fool out of myself, but I have to try,” Calum was nervous again, maybe this really was a bad idea. Ashton and Luke kept teasing him until Michael cut in.

“Don't listen to these assholes. If you've been thinking about this girl for days after just a look you had to make a move. Just be careful Cal, this doesn't sound like your usual chick,” Michael cautioned him.

“Oh wow thanks, glad you think I'm such a dickhead,” Calum sneered.

“Did I say that?” Michael looked him in the eye, “I just have a feeling you should be cautious.”

Rehearsal ended and Calum hurried to his car to check his phone. He felt let down when he saw it was Natasha, not Eliza, texting him. He stared at his phone all day before reminding himself having expectations led to getting let down. He texted Ashton and they decided to go out looking for a buzz and a hookup. When he ran in to Natasha at the club he knew where the night would end.

Calum rolled over with a groan, waking the girl next to him. He was surprised Natasha was still there but he'd kept them up really late. He'd forgotten he'd set his text alert to maximum volume the day before and was going to murder whoever it was texting him at the ungodly early hour of 10 am.

Hey Calum...it's Eliza from the coffee shop. Oliver and I are headed to Silver Lake Dog Park in an hour if you're up for a playdate.

Calum couldn't text back fast enough. Duke has been begging me to go to the park so we'll see you there. Should I bring coffee or donuts?

I'm always up for coffee. One cream two sugars we'll be on a bench at the south side of the lake.

Cal woke Natasha up and offered to give her a ride home on his way out.  He ignored her hints and dodged a kiss, already regretful. Duke was oblivious the the tension in the front seat, just happy to be out of the house. Dropping Natasha off he stopped at a donut shop and got coffee and donuts. Walking into the park with Duke tucked under one arm and the coffee balanced with the other his eyes searched for Eliza. He saw her, rope toy in hand, playing tug of war with Oliver.

The little guy spotted them and dropped the toy barking furiously. Eliza toppled back into the grass thoroughly embarrassed when turned and saw Calum approaching. Leaping up she brushed the grass off her indigo denim capris and gave Calum a shy smile. Oliver and Duke sniffed at each other, circling around before deciding they could be friends. Oliver grabbed his toy and each dog took an end tugging a bit before settling in and happily chomping away. While this was going on, Calum got settled on the bench and handed Eliza her coffee. When he smiled at her she felt her heart booming in her chest, the way his dark eyes were so full of warmth, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, his round squishy cheeks,it was too adorable.

She saw him open his mouth to speak before stopping, and looking at her confused.

Calum realized now that he was here with her he had no idea what to do next. Eliza picked up her phone with a smirk mouthing at him “we text” before tapping out a message.

I suppose we should start with basic introductions. I'm Eliza, Oliver's mom. I'm 23 and I work in social media management and occasionally freelance as an interpreter

He watched her closely noticing how even though she had a scarf wrapped around her hair in a bun there were curls slipping loose around her ears and neck. Her eyes were a light golden brown and that little smirk she'd just given him caught him off guard. The green in the sweater and the scarf really looked good on her. He was lost in thought when he realized she'd caught him looking and was waiting for him to answer her text.

Eliza looked up and froze when she caught him staring at her. This man had no right to be this attractive. When he blushed and checked his phone Eliza checked out her mystery man. She liked the leather jacket and black jeans combo, and he had really nice legs for a guy. She smiled at his black converse high tops glancing at her green ones when her phone buzzed.

I'm Calum Hood, Duke's dad, and I play bass for the rock band 5 Seconds of Summer. I'm 23 and originally from Australia. This is my first texting date so I hope I don't seem too awkward. I've never had any deaf friends.

Eliza looked up at him but Calum had become distracted by the two little dogs wrestling around with the toy.

Don't worry, I have plenty of friends who aren't deaf and don't sign. We mostly text, sometimes write notes, you find ways. I think my sister might know your band. She loves music, me not so much lol

Speaking of awkward I have to ask, do you have a girlfriend?

Calum looked at his phone and frowned and Eliza felt like an idiot.

No, of course not, why would you think that?

Because you have a hickey just behind your ear

Calum looked up at her alarmed and thinking she was kidding until she reached up and lightly traced her finger across a small spot on his neck. Calum dropped his head embarrassed and positive she thought he was an asshole.

It's fine, I'm just teasing you. I'm glad you don't have a girlfriend though.

He looked back up at her and met her eyes. She reached over and squeezed his hand. Calum squeezed back before taking her hand and raising it to his mouth brushing his lips gently across the back while bowing his head.  

They both felt the spark, but just that moment Duke leapt into Calum's lap followed quickly by Oliver, breaking the spell and cracking them both up.

They spent two hours in the park, playing with the dogs and texting back and forth. He learned she was Portuguese and Iranian and had been born in the UK. Her parents had split when she was five after she'd gotten meningitis, which had caused her hearing loss. They'd moved here soon after to be close to her mom's parents.

He told her about finding fame at a young age, leaving home and finding his way to L.A.  That he and his band were currently working on stuff for their next album. He told her his Mom was Maori and his Dad was Scottish. He showed her pictures of his sister Mali, also a musician, who lived in London and was his best friend before all others. He loved California, but wished his family lived closer.

Eliza told him about her sister Maggie who was only 18 months younger. Their mom had inherited a triplex and her mom, stepdad and half brother lived in one part. She lived with Maggie in the middle and they rented the last unit. As much as she loves her family, she told him, sometimes it's a little too close.

Calum asked if he could take her to lunch and Eliza had to tell him no. She had promised her sister to pick her up and go shopping and she was already late. Maggie had her final senior year debate tournament coming up and wanted to update her outfits. Eliza couldn't possibly cancel on her and Calum understood. He walked her and Oliver to her car. He suggested they meet up sometime next week at Marian's for cinnamon rolls. After she agreed he paused really wanting to move in for a kiss, but instead he gave her a hug and Duke gave her kisses instead.

Eliza pulled away and couldn't wait to tell her sister about her “date”. Calum went and grabbed a sandwich before heading home with a bass line starting to work it's way into his brain. After tinkering with it for over an hour and getting it recorded he wandered into the living room flopping onto the couch and switching on his laptop. After a quick social media scan he opened up YouTube and searched “learning ASL.”

@wildhearthood @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @cal-puddies @biba3434 @slimthicccal @calteahood @cal-pal-cuddles @calumh-excess @itstheholls @irwinkitten @1dthewantedlove @kaxseychill  @you-of-ghost @babygirlcashton

#calum hood #eliza #deaf #asl #sign language #calum 5sos #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagine #calum hood blurb #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #michael clifford #michael 5sos #i needed a break from smut #colour me in #damien rice

[qwertythepopstarian08]

JSAB Steampunk AU Fanfic- That’s Not Your Brother

A gift fic for @just-steams-and-shapes .

Both of the muns of that blog pretty much shattered my heart with angst, so I decided to return the favor. 

Also, Happy Fresh Friday!

((Once again, I must say that Feeling Blue is on temporary hiatus. I know how I want the story to end, and I WILL FINISH EVENTUALLY, but at the moment, I have no motivation to continue the story... sorry for the wait.))

Description: Belle comes home to find a Deceora in place of her brother. However, it doesn’t want to hurt her, and it seems oddly familiar...

Warnings for SLIGHT BODY HORROR and canon-typical violence.

Luce’s arm hurt.

It’d been aching all day, from his elbow to his wrist, ever since that accursed Deceora sunk its fangs into him the night before. It’d managed to get in through the window, out for blood and indiscriminately raiding houses. Judging by the amount of carnage done to the foliage outside, it’d run amok for awhile, although no other shapes had been harmed, at least not as much as him.

It’d managed to tear into his arm with its fangs before he managed to subdue it. A few swipes and a devastating bite to the wrist left him reeling, and even now, hours later and running on painkillers, he was feeling the effects.

He’d tried bandaging it, but eventually, the adhesives had just caused more irritation, and the wound needed to breathe, lest it get infected. So the most damaged areas were in full view, looking like shattered glass sticking out of his arm, an obvious allure for a nosy older sister.

He hissed under his breath as Belle prodded at his forearm, looking up to see her sticking her tongue out. She had her lucky wrench in hand, and her outfit was stained with motor oil. She’d dragged herself away from her work to mess with him. How sweet.

“That’s gonna leave a gnarly scar, bro.” She blew a strand of hair out of her face, her purple eyes narrowing. “Next time, just call me for help… facin’ a Deceora’s no walk in the park…”

Luce recoiled, drawing his arm back as his sister reached to poke at it again. His horns lowered, the heart rate monitor in place of his eye starting to quicken in pace, showing his annoyance.

“I shattered it, didn’t I?” He reached for a pen, hoping that he could at least distract himself by drawing up some blueprints; he was thinking of weapons, feeling quite destructive at the moment. “Having an arm cannon comes in handy…” He scowled when he heard Belle chuckle, adding as an afterthought, “No pun intended.”

Belle shot back, “Whatever you say, dork.”

All she got in response was a flustered grumble. Luce’s voice sounded a bit shriller than usual, but Belle amounted that to his irritation, not to mention the pain he was in.

The purple cyclops rolled her eye, one of her cybernetic arms reaching up to brush her hair out of her face again. It was quite messy, and a plain ponytail wasn’t cutting it anymore… she didn’t care much about fashion, but as an inventor who worked around gears and moving parts, she couldn’t afford to risk getting her hair caught.

“Y’know what… I think I’ll go out to town… buy some hair products.” She ran a hand through the purple locks, huffing. “Something’s gotta tame the beast.”

She stood, folding her main pair of arms. Luce didn’t look up at her, his heart monitor slowing to a steady, calm beat as he fell back into focus with his work. A twinge of annoyance hit Belle’s core, but it was quickly encompassed as she watched her brother sketch, a small part of herself marvelling at his intuitive ability.

He was only twelve, nearing thirteen in the coming months. It was a wonder that a kid his age knew how to competently work some of the machinery he lived around, let alone create blueprints for it.

He had to learn quickly, though… without parents to properly teach him, the two of them had picked up quite a few skills just to survive...

Shaking her head to rid herself of the thought, Belle started towards the door, momentarily pausing to run through her list of errands. She glanced over her shoulder, looking over Luce, who was too absorbed in his sketching to pay her much mind.

For once, her schedule was clear, aside from her personal quest. She’d be home soon, and she doubted Luce could get himself into any trouble like this… the likelihood of a second Deceora attack was slim, anyway.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Luce,” she called. She added with a chuckle, “Don’t get yourself shattered.”

He waved halfheartedly, one of his horns flicking up in acknowledgement. He really seemed to be absorbed in his work. Rolling her eye once more, Belle departed, trusting that her brother would be safe…

~~~

~~~

As the minutes passed, Luce found it progressively harder to focus. The once minor stinging in his arm had developed into shooting, burning pain, which pulsed with his heartbeat, as if his veins were pumping acid instead of blood.

He forced himself to ignore it, at least for a while. He was being productive this way, having churned out five whole blueprints in the hour. They were a bit messy, given the pain in his arm, but he was proud of himself, having finally found a way to effectively distract himself.

However, as the time ticked past, the minutes rolling into hours… the pain had become pure agony, and he finally tore his eyes away from the paper to glance at his arm.

He was willing to bet that it’d started bleeding again, given how high his blood pressure was. His nerves were shot, and as his gaze darted from the blueprints to his forearm, he jolted in shock, catching a flash of greenish blue among the pink flesh.

“What… in Paradise?” He turned his arm around slowly, trying to see if the blighted color was a trick of the light. However, instead of going away, the hue only seemed to spread, forming in rough patches around the wounds. “What.”

Luce’s eyes glistened with a confused light, his horns drooping slightly as he stood, dropping his pencil.

“Where’s the mirror?” He paced almost aimlessly, beginning to feel a deep, paranoid fear. “Where’s the Treeangle-blighted mirror?!”

The lagoon tint had begun to infect more of his arm, spreading like a rash up to his shoulder. It burned, and Luce found himself scratching at the afflicted areas, becoming increasingly irritated as his mind buzzed with frantic thoughts.

His claws felt sharper than normal. He was unsteady on his feet… These seemingly minor realizations drilled themselves into his head, and he was unsure when he started to hyperventilate, his balance becoming skewed.

Luce staggered around the house, his mind reeling, each step sending a shockwave of pain through his form. He was terrified to look, but he had to see what was happening to him. He nearly tripped, locating a sizable mirror as he limped into the bathroom, looking himself over in the reflective glass.

His eyes widened, his heart rate nearly flatlining as he forced himself to stifle a shriek.

“Shards…” He hissed under his breath. His eye was flickering between a sickly lagoon and a frenetic pink. Luce choked, laughing nervously, “This is bad… this is real bad…”

He wanted to scream, but he was afraid of his own voice, unsure where his imagination ended and the real change began.

Luce backed away, trying to steady his breathing. He smiled, although an anxious ache made itself known in his core as he realized… how sharp his teeth looked.

“A’right… You’re fine,” he assured himself. “We’re good… everything’s okay…”

He winced, hearing a loud, resounding crack sound from within himself, nearly forcing him to his knees. His legs really, really hurt…  It was clear that he wouldn’t be standing upright for long…

Growling, he shook his head, returning his gaze to his reflection. In just a few minutes… he looked less like a shape and more like… a Deceora…

“You’re okay,” he repeated, snarling. His horns flicked backwards, a growl spilling from his maw as he shook his head, finding it progressively harder to focus. His heart rate quickened, the monitor over his bad eye starting to beep loudly as his core lurched. He ground out his mantra, forcing himself to stay awake, “Nothing. Is. Wrong.”

A sudden, acidic agony roared from the young shape’s core, and he heard himself shriek, his eyes going wide as he instinctively clutched at his chest. His cybernetic hand flew up to cover his mouth, and he shuddered, terrified.

He coughed violently, flinching as lagoon corruption came away on his hand. There was no denying it. That Deceora had cursed him as soon as it sunk its fangs into his arm. Belle was right; he never should have tried to handle things himself… he was just a little kid.

“E-e-everything…. Everything is… is f-fine…” He hugged himself, trying not to focus on what was happening. His voice was a whisper. Anything above a quiet rasp, and he’d be able to hear the growl in his tone. He wanted to tear the corruption out, but it’d already reached his core… all he could do was hope he could fight it off. “It’s…. O-o-o-okay… i-it’s okay…”

It was getting harder to speak… oh honey butter biscuits, his face was a Tree-forsaken muzzle.

“You… you’rrreeee….” He trailed off with a whimpering croon, shaking his head. “Hhh.. you’rreee… o-okayyy… Yo….Rrrr...o-kayyyyyy…”

Tears rolled down his face, and Luce gave one last, defeated scream, hoping dearly that someone, anyone would hear him. For all he knew, he’d lose his mind and hurt someone… if no one came to shatter him now…

But with his current luck… what were the odds of that?

~~~

~~~

Three hours later, the door creaked open. Belle peered inside, looking around in hopes of seeing her little brother waiting for her, as he normally did. A small part of her expected to see him still sitting at that desk, scribbling away at blueprints. Maybe he actually tried to build something for once and set the house on fire.

As she pictured the possible outcomes, she couldn’t help but grin, wondering what amusing predicament her baby brother could’ve gotten himself mixed up in today.

However, when she entered the house, she was greeted with complete, eerie silence. The lights were all out… the curtains were closed. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw the darkness, her greeting dying on her tongue as her eye darted around, trying to find a reason for the seemingly abandoned state of the house.

She hoped that Luce was merely asleep on the couch or something, that he’d decided to be responsible for once and turn out the lights when he left the room. The chances of that were slim to none, and Belle’s anxiety whispered in the back of her mind, sending her into an instant panic.

“Luce?” she called cautiously. She heard her own voice echo through the building, and when there was no answer, she found herself worrying even more. She walked towards the kitchen, concern riddling her features. “Luce? Where are ya, you little demon child?”

Not even his nickname stirred a response. Belle growled to herself, picking up her lucky wrench. If Luce was just tricking her, she’d clock him in the horns for it… and if he wasn’t, she had a feeling she’d have to fight someone.

He’d just been injured, and it was obvious that he was still in pain. If any rogue or feral shapes had broken in, he wouldn’t stand a chance... Belle started off towards the workshop, hissing under her breath.

“This better not be a prank…” As she inched towards the entrance, she heard a sudden crash, her eye lighting up in tentative hope. “I’m warning you…”

She weighed the odds. On one hand, that sound could’ve been Luce trying to hide, what with the little trouble-maker he was. She had poked fun at him earlier, and he was known for getting petty revenge. It wasn’t much of a stretch to say that he was planning to scare her, just to send her flying into a tizzy over nothing. He wasn’t evil by a longshot, despite Belle’s constant prodding, but he lived up to his nickname as the “demon child.”

Belle felt her smile threaten to return, but she shook her head.

Nonetheless, the other possibility send fear rushing through her, quickly eclipsing all humor. It was rare to see a Deceora this far away from the Corrosive Valley or the Badlands… the odds of it coming with a pack were slim, but it was still possible.

Shattering the first creature would just summon the pack, if they were in the area. And in his current state… Luce would’ve been instantly incapacitated… shattered. Belle steeled herself for what she might see, be it shards or her brother. She’d dealt with loss before, and while she never wanted to lose another loved one, she prepared herself for the worst.

“A’right… I’m givin’ ya five seconds to show yourself…” she yelled.

She heard the scrabbling of claws against tile, and she twitched, trying to restrain herself from charging. It was a Deceora alright.

“One… two… aw, blight it… FIVE!”

Belle let out a battle cry, rushing through the entrance in an attempt to startle the monster. Her eye was blurred from the tears that she’d been holding back, but she kept swinging, suddenly glad to have extra arms. If that thing tried to come at her from behind, she’d knock it silly.

She heard a gutteral shriek ring out as one of her fists met scales, and she reeled, her eye snapping open. The Deceora was quite small for its kind, looking pathetic compared to the monster that had attacked the night before. Perhaps the first creature had been its mother. Chances were, this small, unassuming monster had wandered to their home, searching for its fallen parent. It was too young to fight properly, but a single good swipe from those wicked claws could knock out any shape, even if the intent wasn’t to kill.

In any other occasion, Belle might’ve spared it, knowing what it was like to lose a parent, but now that it entered her home, now that it had possibly killed her brother, all mercy flew out the window.

She narrowed her eye, rage filling her heart. It was hard to focus on the thing, her gaze darting around in search of any sign of her brother. The Deceoras were merciless hunters. It was likely that, if he was in shards, they’d either been devoured or trambled, leaving no traces behind.

Even if this one was unwilling to fight, its instincts would have driven it to feed as soon as the blood was spilled. Luce was as good as dead.

“I know ya can’t understand me…” Belle snarled. She lowered her wrench towards the monster’s snout, her tone venomous. “So I’m giving you five seconds to clear out before I shatter you. Limb. By. Limb.”

It suddenly squeaked and reeled back, nearly tripping over its own legs. It was definitely young and probably hadn’t ventured into civilization before, unable to properly maneuver on a smooth, tiled surface.

It stumbled, the spikes around its head drooping as it stared up at her, almost sad. Belle knew better than to falter, her voice ringing out as a threatening yell as she grew more frantic.

“I don’t care that you’re a baby, I’ll shatter you like you did to my brother!”

At that, the Deceora seemed to understand, if only through the aggression in Belle’s tone. It backed away, drawing in on itself, a small, rumbling whimper echoing from its core. Belle had never seen a Deceora whimper, even when injured. They were natural killers, and they never showed weakness. However, this creature didn’t seem like it wanted to fight at all...even to defend itself… It was truly at her mercy.

She grinned, despite herself. A malicious, vindictive urge welled up in her heart, and she advanced, a wicked sneer spreading across her face. She raised the wrench again. While she was sure she had other, quicker means to dispose of this thing, she wanted to cause it just as much pain as it’d caused her brother. Slowly.

“You probably won’t even fight back, eh?” She chuckled as the monster suddenly squeaked, frantic. “Good. That makes it easier for me.”

She swung. Metal met bone as the wrench made contact with the Deceora’s plated back. It was sent flying, shards bursting from the impact as it hit a wall. It scrambled to stand, a constant, pitiful whimper pouring from its jaws. It refused to run, however, staring up at Belle with those melancholy, distressed eyes.

Belle approached it again, laughing almost madly.

“Not so tough now, huh?” She reveled in the fear that blossomed in the monster’s gaze as she held her makeshift weapon high, preparing to strike. “That’s what you get for SHATTERING MY BROTHER!”

This time, the wrench came down upon the monster’s back, near the base of its neck. It crumpled, a hissing screech ripping from its throat as it covered its head, panicking. Dusty shards sprayed from the bludgeon wound, and parts of its shell were dented and cracked.

Still, it refused to attack… it almost seemed to be pleading her to stop.

“Hhhh….” Its breaths were ragged with pain. It tried to make itself seem small, terrified. “Nnnooooo. Noooo… mrrrrrr….”

Belle relented. She could let it go with a warning, but it’d likely just return when it was old enough to fight. She raised her hand again, scowling.

The helpless Deceora cowered, shaking its head as if in disbelief. Startlingly, tears flowed from its eyes, and as it looked up at Belle, she thought she saw a flicker of pink in its foggy, soulless gaze.

She faltered, glancing at its arms. One of its forelegs was cracked rather severely, from the elbow to the wrist. Belle was sure she hadn’t hit it there. She’d only gotten two good swings, and both had cracked against its shell. That wound was strikingly familiar, looking quite recent...

Shaking her head, she prepared to land a final blow, tiring of toying with the monster. If it kept screaming, it’d alert the rest of the pack… and she’d learn just how threatening a group of protective monsters could be.

“Enough playin’ around…” She squeezed her eye shut. Something felt very wrong. “T-time to die…”

However, as she readied herself, she heard a frantic, hissing squeak that made her stop in her tracks.

The Deceora suddenly shrieked, shaking its head in a frenetic attempt to stop her. Its stubby tail was tucked between its legs in its fear, and its entire form was quivering.

“Nooo… mrrr….. No morrreee!”

Belle backed away, watching it. That was the most sentient display of fear she’d ever seen from a feral. She expected it to go down fighting, but in seconds, any fight that it may have put up dissolved into pathetic whimpers.

Its flailing, panicked state reminded her of a child’s tantrum, and the more it screamed, the less guttural its cries sounded.

“Mowww!” it cried. It let out a sharp exhale, shuddering. “Hhhhh…. hhhhuuurrrrt.”

“What?” she deadpanned. She glared down at the creature, waiting for some sort of response. It probably couldn’t comprehend speech, but she supposed that this particular Deceora had more than a few surprises up its sleeve, and perhaps sentience was one of them.

Its teary eyes glimmered with tentative hope as its attacker faltered. Squealing, it sat up on its haunches, wincing a few times as its cracked shell protested. It looked up at Belle, its eyes continuing to flicker with that too-familiar pink hue, which was slowly encompassing the lagoon shade.

It squeaked, trying to form words, “... E-Eeellllee….” It shook its head, trying again. Its maw clicked and rattled with the effort, the gaps between its fangs producing an odd, whistling sound. Its lack of intelligibility frustrated it, and it hissed, “Eeellee…….it meeee...”

Belle tilted her head, backing away. She cautiously placed her wrench down, folding her arms. Something about the sound the thing was making was unsettling, and she felt a paranoid, upsetting fear beginning to settle in her core. It was almost… dare she say...familiar.

“What… what are you trying to say?” she questioned softly. The gruff, threatening tone had dropped from her voice completely. She was filled with a curious, almost fearful collection of thoughts, her mind buzzing. “Are you trying to speak to me?”

The Deceora whimpered, pointing at her with a shaky claw. Belle instinctively flinched, grabbing for her wrench. The thing just cowered, squealing. It drew back, shuddering as it attempted to speak again.

“E-e-elle…” It perked up as it pronounced something coherent, hesitantly pointing at the purple shape. “Elle… Elle!”

Belle’s eye went wide, and she faltered. “Me?”

The Deceora nodded wildly, trotting towards her. Before she could react, it slumped its entire weight against her leg, wrapping its lanky arms around her in a haphazard embrace. Belle nearly kicked it in reflexive action, only stopping herself when she heard the affectionate purr that rumbled from the thing’s core.

This wasn’t an attack… it was a hug. This creature trusted her, even after she attacked it. Not only was it unwilling to harm her; it was fully willing to risk its life to show her… something...

“M… meeee… Luuucccceee…” Its words were slurred, laced with hisses. “Luucceee...Elle… brr-rrooww… brrrrooootheeer….” It trailed off with a mournful croon, its spikes curving downwards.

Belle looked down at it in trepidation. Its eyes had started to glow a solid pink, its voice slowly losing the gravelly tone.

“Are you… are you trying to say… my name?”

It nodded, then tried again. “Luce… me…” It covered its face, wiping away its tears. “Ssscared…. Hurrrrtsss…”

Those few words made Belle choke on her breath. Without further warning, she reached down and picked up the strange Deceora, placing it… him… on the work table.

Voice breaking, she addressed it. “What… what are you?” She forced herself not to cry, her mind coming to a terrifying conclusion. “Why can you understand me?”

He pawed at some blueprints, trying to make the connection between Belle’s brother and himself. As he looked over the papers, his eyes welled up with tears again, and a whimper spilled from his maw. He looked up at the purple shape, holding a blueprint in his jaws as he frantically pointed at himself. Belle shook her head, her mind reeling as she tried to process everything.

Somehow, this was her brother. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt tears welling up again, her expression set in a tight frown. She’d heard tales of shapes mutating into Deceora-like beasts, but in all cases, they lost their minds and became part of the pack. Luce was still conscious, still trying to speak to her, to convince her not to harm him. He didn’t even lash out… and yet, she nearly killed him in a fit of vengeful rage.

As she failed to respond, the Deceora grew frantic, tears falling from his eyes. His jaws clattered as he gave a rattling hiss, pawing at where his name had been scrawled upon the blueprints, until his claws tore through.

“It… me! Yrrr… brro...brroothheerrr…” He whimpered, eyes shining. “Luuuccee…”

Belle snapped out of her trance, backing away a bit as she looked over the beast. He was unrecognizable, save for the pink hue in his gaze. While his form was monstrous, his body language was frustratingly familiar, obviously that of a sentient child… not a predatory beast. He was so frantic, trying to communicate his identity, but the words scrambled, leaving only a guttural hiss, which only aggravated and distressed him further.

No matter how much Belle tried to convince herself otherwise, there was no denying it; the Deceora sitting before her was her brother.

“No. You don’t need to convince me anymore… I know it’s you, Luce.” Her voice shook as she looked him over, feeling quite guilty for attacking him. He hadn’t even put up a fight to defend himself. He was willing to die instead of harm his sister. “How… how did this happen?”

The creature whined, its horns drooping. It held up its injured arm, showing off the bite marks that lined its flesh. The wounds looked fresh, and if Belle looked close, there was still pink blood among the green ooze that dripped from the cracks.

“I… don’t… know…it jussst… hh-hurts...”

Belle shook her head, growling. “That’s not an answer, Luce! Why are you... Why is my baby brother a Deceora?!”

Luce squeaked, then looked down at his arm. The corruption seemed to be centered around the wound. There was no doubt in his mind that the bite had changed him… somehow.

“A-afterrrr...Yoouu… leave. A-arm h-hurt. Change… into this.” He seemed to be getting used to his new mouth, although his words were still labored. He looked down, ashamed of himself. “M-m-monster…”

Tears finally spilled from Belle’s eyes, and she pulled Luce into a hug, hearing his shaky, rasping breaths. A deep, instinctive fear welled up as she heard the Deceora hiss, although her sisterly love overtook that, her embrace only tightening as she realized that… no matter what form he took, this was her brother, and he’d never hurt her.

She pulled away, finding it hard to look him in the eye, not wanting to see his sentient, deep sadness within those predatory orbs. She didn’t want to see her brother staring through her, unable to communicate. It hurt to see him like this...

“Are you okay?” She instantly winced. Of course he wasn’t okay. He turned into a Tree-blighted Deceora. She sheepishly added, “Sorry… standard question.”

Luce huffed, his tail tapping against the desk as he allowed himself to laugh, his chuckles sounding like staccato growls. As soon as he laughed, however, his eyes went wide. He instantly covered his mouth with a paw, whimpering.

“Not… scare… you…” He whimpered. “I… sound  scary… monster...”

Belle sighed, rubbing her temples as her horns drooped.

“You’re not a monster, Luce. Stop saying that.”

He looked away, his voice airy. “You said… it…” He growled slightly as a twinge of pain raced through is back. “Said… I hurt…. Someone.”

Belle followed the Deceora’s gaze to the bloodied wrench on the counter, feeling a swell of guilt settling in her core. Robotically, she reached for the tool, turning it around in her hand. Luce winced, that pitiful whimper beginning to spill from his jaws again. The purple shape faltered, her eye narrowing. Her gaze softened, and she tossed the wrench in the nearest trash bin.

“There.” She folded her arms. Luce tilted his head, perplexed as to why she’d throw away her favorite tool. She scoffed, a tiny grin starting to quirk at the edges of her mouth. “Anything used to hurt my baby bro is trash, as far as I’m concerned.”

Hearing this, the Deceora’s tail started to wag, rapping against the metal table in a series of rhythmic thumps. Frustrated, Luce turned and hissed, trying to stop the newfound appendage. Nothing worked, and he pouted, looking quite silly. Belle watched, stifling a chuckle; this was her brother, alright.

She suddenly reached for Luce, picking him up before he could protest. He was the same weight, perhaps a tiny bit lighter from the energy burned in his change, as well as the shards he was missing. He whimpered, afraid of being dropped, but Belle just chuckled, shaking her head.

“I’m not lettin’ you go again, ya dork.” Her second pair of arms reached to better hold Luce, and he grumbled, his lanky arms dangling. “I see what happens when I leave ya alone… ya go and turn into a Hue-forsaken Deceora, of all the things.”

Luce huffed, and Belle grinned, glad to see him returning to his normal, snarky self. She carried him to the kitchen, dropping him rather unceremoniously onto the tiled floor. The drop wasn’t high enough to hurt him, but he squealed, scrambling to his feet as he was deposited.

“What… that for?” He hissed, arching up. “Rrrr…”

His Deceora instincts seemed to be shining through a bit, yet Belle found herself uncaring of the threat, her back turned to him as she started to search through the cabinets for anything suitable for a predatory animal. Luce would normally eat a bagel or something. In his current state, Belle wouldn’t be surprised if he requested the souls of the innocent, just to mess with her.

“I’m getting you something to eat, ya demon child.” She chuckled, looking over the refrigerator door to see the Deceora snarling at her, his maw agape. “You don’t scare me. I fought off far larger threats before, and you couldn’t even raise a claw to me.”

He halfheartedly swiped at the air, grumbling. He was, admittedly, quite famished. He wasn’t sure if that was to be attributed to the energy lost in his transformation or just the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. Judging by how empty his stomach was, it was probably both.

He perked up at the smell of steak, tilting his head as Belle grabbed a plate of the rarest meat she could find, undoubtedly the unwanted leftovers from one of her attempts at cooking. While she was a wizard in the engineering field, the same couldn’t be said for her culinary skills.

She set the plate down in front of Luce, who growled softly, pawing at it.

“You need a fork, or…?”

He shook his head, grinning with rows of deadly fangs. Belle raised her hands in surrender, before turning back to grab a half-eaten muffin. Of course, the little snack was pushed all the way back, and so she had to take a minute to dig through old cartons of juice and milk, not caring as she heard tearing sounds around her.

When she looked back, the steak was already in shreds, the Deceora just looking hungrier from the appetizer. He hissed, his eyes flaring a predatory lagoon as he announced his dissatisfaction, arching up a bit.

Belle winced, her eye going wide as she whispered, “Luce?”

The action reminded her of normal Deceora behavior, and for a moment, she thought that he’d finally lost control of himself. Deceoras were prone to tearing their prey into shreds, decimating them like land-borne piranhas. A twinge of worry hit Belle, and she backed up slightly.

However, just as soon as he’d snapped, Luce seemed to regain his senses.

He seemed to notice what he’d done, whimpering slightly and turning away.

Belle’s expression softened, and she kneeled, looking into his eyes. His magenta gaze was fearful, even now, and he drew in on himself a bit, whimpering.

“Not… okay… can’t think…” He held his head, his eyes flickering between lagoon and pink. He couldn’t decide what urge to act on; the will to flee or to lash out.“Don’t want… to be… monster…”

“You’re not a monster-”

Luce cut her off with a sudden, guttural hiss. Belle reflexively flinched, her eye glimmering with fear as she momentarily forgot who she was looking at. The fear in his sister’s gaze only made Luce cover his face, his form shaking with raspy sobs.

“Don’t want… to hurt you…” He whimpered, his breaths labored. “Can’t control… it...wantsss to hurt you…”

Belle pulled him into another hug, and he squealed, flailing. He rested his head on her shoulder, shuddering violently.

“I… scared…” His voice faltered, dissolving into wordless whimpers and sad purrs. “Rrrr….”

Belle sighed. “I know… I’m scared, too…” She looked away. “Don’t worry… I’ll find a way to fix this… we’ll find a way, together.”

Luce crooned dejectedly. “No… I monster… forever.”

“You… you say that as if you haven’t always been… my little monster…” Belle hugged him tightly, her breaths shaky. “I promise I’ll reverse this… somehow. As long as you have your memories, I won’t give up on you.”

Luce let out a low trill, huffing in disbelief. In all the cases he’d heard of shapes becoming feral, none of them had reverted to normal, even after their ultimate deaths. Then again, none of them had retained their minds, either…

“I’m not giving up on you, Luce… just because you’re a Deceora on the outside doesn’t mean you are on the inside. No measly bite is gonna change that, got it?”

Luce pulled away, averting his gaze. Belle huffed indignantly, narrowing her eye.

“You fought off Deceoras before like nobody’s business. Are you really going to let the least threatening one of them all take you down?”

That got her a laugh. The creature’s horns flicked up, and he glanced at her, tilting his head incredulously.

“Me..?”

Belle grinned shakily.

“Who else, ya dork?” She crossed her arms. “Now, what are ya, a cowardly Deceora… or the best baby bro in the universe?”

Luce finally faltered, turning around. His horns folded back, and he gave a non-threatening growl, pouncing into Belle’s embrace. He shook, although he didn’t seem as distressed as before, having been convinced.

Belle stood, holding Luce for what felt like an eternity. She could hear his heartbeat, and from where she stood, she spotted a few broken pieces of metal under the table. Realizing what the metal was, she put the Deceora down, sighing.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like that for awhile, I’ve gotta make ya some new cybernetic enhancements… your old ones don’t fit anymore, eh?”

Luce perked up, his stubby tail wagging. He trilled in excitement, following Belle to the workshop.

While this was in no way the best situation, they had each other, just like always. And as long as they held on, kept trusting each other and clinging to hope, they’d get through anything… they always did.

#jsab #just shapes and beats #jsab au #steampunk au #luce #belle #Other people's OCs #Oh Look a Story Thing #gift #au #deceora #fresh friday #blixer #new game