#and suddenly im eleven years old again

[risingscorchingsuns]

holy shit you guys. i know this is a kny blog but i gotta. holy fuck. im so emotional. the 30 minute bluey special. ohhhhhh. My gnpldhsms

#i am not okay #holy shit #me when children cope with change despite not fully comprehending why change is necessary yet #oh my god #and suddenly im eleven years old again #oh my goddd #not kny #leon says words #bluey #bluey the sign

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Prologue: Youth

Killer x gn!reader word count: 1.1k next a/n: hey, hi, hello. I'm finally back with another long fic oh my god im sorry i took so long. i didn't really plan on being gone that long pls forgive. anyway, there's a long story of how this idea came to fruition but i don't think anyone wants to hear all that lmfao. it was born from the glass animals song 'the other side of paradise' hence the name. im probably just gonna make the chapter titles different song titles and shove in lyrics here n there like normal lmfao ill stop rambling lets gooooo

“We should form a rock band when we’re old enough.” Kid suddenly sat up from where he had been laying down, struck with a sudden and brilliant idea.

A group of kids from the neighborhood were currently laying in the grass at the park after a long day of playing - this included you.

“Oh yeah? What’s with the sudden idea?” Wire asked, also sitting up to look at Kid. He crossed his legs, tilting his head to the side. He lived across from you.

“Well, I think we’d be good at it. And it would be fun. And we could all hang out all the time!”

“We already do hang out all the time,” Heat said, sitting up as well to join in on the conversation. He also lived across from you, next to Wire.

“Yeah, but I mean when we’re adults. This will be a sure fire way to make sure we’re always together!” Kid rolled his eyes as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m in as long as I get to marry y/n.” Killer sat up now, pulling you with him. He lived next to you.

You smiled widely. Sure, you two might have only been eleven right now, but you’ve been convinced you were going to marry this boy since you met him when you were seven. Even moreso when the two of you were sitting in the classroom at the ripe age of ten, holding hands when he officially asked you out.

“Ugh. Gross. But as long as you join my band then fine!” 

“You’re literally seven, how do you know you’re still gonna wanna be a rockstar?” You looked over at Kid who narrowed his eyes at you. “Says the one who is literally eleven and convinced they already know who they’re gonna marry.”

You guffawed at him, pouting and folding your arms. “You don’t understand, you’re too little!”

“I’m seven! I understand plenty!” He shook his head, scoffing.

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

You felt Killer put a hand on your thigh and you groaned, folding your arms and rolling your eyes. “Whatever. You’ll understand when you meet your special someone. When you’re older.”

“You’re literally eleven, Bigs,” he said again, rolling his eyes at you. Arguing with Kid like this was frequent. He was your cousin and lived with you, after all. He had moved in a couple of years ago when an unfortunate accident happened to his parents - your aunt and uncle. He was pretty much like a little brother to you at this point; he sure was annoying like one.

“Whatever.” You huff, rolling your eyes again and standing up. You dust yourself off, stretching.

“You guys have fun in your little rockband. I’ll support from the stands.”

“Nuh uh!” You look to Kid who was standing now, confused at his sudden change of tune. “You’re gonna be in the band with us!” Just like true sibling fashion, going from arguing to begging to hang out in two seconds.

You shook your head, making a face. You folded your arms across your chest. “No. I don’t like people.”

“You’re around us all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe y/n can be our manager,” Killer chimed, trying to prevent another argument between the two of you. He slowly stood up as well, slowly holding your hand and pulling you away from Kid. Just to be safe. Things didn’t really get physical between you two, but keeping distance helped arguments stay deescalated. 

“I don’t know about all that,” you mumbled, shaking your head. Sure, it was mostly the whole getting on stage thing that made you nervous. Maybe you could be their manager. Though, people still made you nervous. You didn’t know the first thing about managing anything. You were eleven.

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it.” Killer smiled at you and you felt your heart flutter. Sure, you were a kid, but these feelings were real. You couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. You were sure you found the love of your life and he seemed to feel the same - always content at your side. 

Besides, he’s the one that asked you out, after all.

“You’re right. We have plenty of time to think about it.” You smiled back at Killer as he reached for your hand. You took his, squeezing it softly.

“Blegh!” Kid stuck out his tongue and shook his head, causing everyone to laugh.

You looked over to your cousin. “What would you even name your band?” He seemed to mull it over for a moment before deciding. “Victoria Punk!”

You blinked, tilting your head to the side. “Like that one girl you had a crush on?”

Kid nodded, grinning widely. You remembered him mentioning he had a crush on a girl named Victoria back in his old neighborhood. He also mentioned that she had also passed, but never gave any specifics and you weren’t one to pry with things like that.

“Well, I think you have to decide that with the others. You can’t just decide it yourself.”

Kid pouted, folding his arms. “I’m the leader! I get to make the decisions!”

“Who said you were leader?”

“I did!” He huffed, glaring at you.

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip. “You can’t decide that for yourself!”

Kid looked at the others. “What do you think?”

“I don’t particularly care,” Wire said with a shrug. Heat nodded in agreement. “Being in a band sounds fun, but I don’t want the responsibility of leader.”

Killer also shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride. You know what I want.” He looked at you from the corner of his eye and smiled, making your face warm up. He was so sweet!

“Who is gonna do what?” Wire asked, standing up now. Heat followed suit and now all of you were standing.

“Well, I have to be the lead singer since I’m the leader.” Kid nodded as if agreeing with himself. “Other than that…I don’t know.”

“You have plenty of time to figure it out,” you said, using Killer’s words from earlier. He grinned at you and you giggled.

Kid groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. “You two are the worst!” He stomped off, leaving you all in fits of laughter.

next

#sorry if its structured a little weird #tryna get back into the swing of things bear with me #those funerals and visiting by bio parents took it out of me #my bio parents always wear me out frfr #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer x reader #killer #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #am fics #tosp

[pigeonwit]

ok but like jack who loveeeess when hes under the weight of something, he sleeps with like four hundred stuffed animals weighted blankets are his jam, etc etc, and then davey comes along and just flat out sleeps on top of him 24/7. its a win for both of them. (sorry if this isn’t coherent im literally asleep)

(sneep i dont know if you're referencing the prompts list at all or if it was just deeply important to you that i know this but i'm writing about it anyways)

It's hard for Jack to keep his feet on the ground sometimes.

He can't quite put it into words. He's not really a words guy. It took him about a year and a half post-American-public-school-system to realize that he was actually smart enough to read books, let alone echo them. Colours, that's where Jack's mind lives. A big swirling sea of shapes and colours. Sometimes it's calm; the gentle blue strokes of a calm, well-rested morning; the occasional pops and starbursts of the New York streets - a baby babbling at their parents, a dog yipping excitedly, a song that's been stuck in Jack's head drifting out of the cracked window of a passing car - all painted in pretty pinks and bright, sunny yellows. He's nowhere near whimsical or delusional enough for the happy-go-lucky "where dreams are made of" view of NYC, the one that's been washed over in watery-pink with Gershwin plunking in the background - but he's not nihilistic enough to pretend it's nothing more than a tar-pit. There's plenty to love, to be inspired over, to leave happy little brushstrokes on his skin.

But sometimes - sometimes - he gets too swept up in it. All the movement, all the noise, all of it, it picks him up by the scruff and throws him, spins him around and kicks him right between the ribs, until he's drifting listlessly along the sidewalk like a scrap of paper, small and sensitive, marked by every fume of exhaust and drop of gutter-water.

It's the difference between being painted and being stained. That's the only way Jack can describe it. Paint, colours, it has a purpose to it. It presses into his skin and keeps him grounded to reality. A stain is just... Nothing. A tear, a black hole of graphite in his chest, sucking up all his being until there's nothing left.

He needs solidity, when he gets like this. He needs to be held in place until all that old, wasted paper is rubbed away, and he can grow into himself again, fresh and newly remade.

It starts with a pillow. His first night at Medda's - she gave him two instead of just one. He'd no idea what to do with it. He only needed one or else his head felt too high, and he didn't want to just chuck it on the floor or stuff it in his closet, Miss Medda might think he was rude, and he liked Miss Medda, he didn't want her to think he was a bad kid, she might get angry, might give him back... And then he was panting, trembling with every inch, tears stinging at his eyes as he tried to press his nails into his palm, hold himself together, but nothing was working, nothing was firm enough-

It was humiliating - as humiliating as everything else is for an eleven year old, but still, humiliating - to go to sleep that night, clutching a pillow to his chest as he squeezed with all his little might. But it pressed his lungs into the mattress, forced the air in and out, and the foam held tight against his sharp, scrabbling hands, not breaking, not pushing him away... It was just enough.

He almost would've been content with just that, hugging a pillow every now and then - but Medda and Siôn had this whole thing about 'making Jack understand his worth as a person', the nerve, and suddenly he was being given all he needed and more. A plushie, then two, then five. A throw pillow with Val Kilmer's face on it, because Siôn ("Just fucking call me Crutchie, dude, I won't break-") was just as much a cretin when he was a teenager than he is now. A weighted blanket for his birthday that redefined Jack's understanding of the word comfort.

And that could've been enough. It all could've been enough. Fuck, just a hug every couple of days would've been enough. It was certainly more than he'd earned.

He'd offhandedly said something along those lines to Davey - or "Library Guy" as he'd been referred to at the time, since Jack had only really met him three times in two weeks - who had calmly raised a finger, taken a long swig of his coffee, slammed his travel mug (reusable, of course, because Davey is the world's most irritatingly perfect saint) on his desk and given Jack a seventeen minute speech about humanity's relationship with validation through the lens of a capitalistic society - and all of a sudden, Jack wanted everything. Coffee. Dinner. Pet-names, hand-holding, lazy Sundays, teasing each other when they woke up and talking about bullshit until they fell asleep. And Davey gave him all of it without a second glance.

Jack was hesitant to ask, at first. They'd fallen asleep on the couch - they were supposed to be studying, but Davey had found out Jack had never watched any of the Lord of The Rings movies and had spent the entire evening pausing every five minutes to eagerly share his Silmarillion trivia (Jack still hasn't gotten him to admit it yet, but he's pretty sure he can pinpoint Davey falling in love with him to the moment Jack asked why Viggo Mortensen kicking a helmet was so funny to him) - and they'd inevitably fallen asleep on top of each other, with Jack flat on his back and Davey splayed over him like the world's sweetest, sleepiest octopus.

("You really know how to make a guy feel hot, y'know that?"

"Bold of you to assume octopuses are not hot. Tentacle porn exists for a reason, Dave."

"See, I want to be mad at you for bringing up tentacle porn at brunch, but I'm more offended that you called them octopuses and not octopi.")

It was nice, having Davey over him - which, yes, got him some eyebrow waggles when he first admitted it, but it really wasn't like that. It was the weight of it, the reassurance of Davey's warmth encompassing his own, knowing that Davey was here, and he was here, pressed down firmly to the ground and not going anywhere. The sensation of it - the firmness on his chest that makes him feel every breath and every beat of his pulse, that tells him he's here and he's fine - it's like his whole brain's been washed clean.

"Pressure stimming," is the word Davey uses about two months later, a short while after Jack had finally realized that they were actually, exclusively, undeniably boyfriends and not just 'friends who are kind of maybe dating if Davey wants that maybe'. He'd walked into his bedroom in his and Crutchie's apartment to find Davey already there, lying face down on the bed - and Jack might've left it be, because he's had plenty of days where he just needs to lie face-down for a whole hour, but Davey telling him that he physically couldn't get off the bed was the thing that sent him panicking.

"It's not a big deal..." Davey's forefinger flicks up-and-down, up-and-down against one of Jack's many pillows as he speaks, the way he does when he has just slightly too much nervous energy. "It's just something I need sometimes. The way my energy is, it's like everything I do starts weighing down on me - and sometimes I can just let that weight off every now and then, and I'm fine - but sometimes I just... Need something. To support me."

Jack nods slowly, thinking of pillows and plushies and weighted blankets, and hovers his hand over the small of Davey's back.

"You need something, like... On top?" He cringes, because there's no way for that to not sound like an innuendo, but Davey only snorts into the comforter and shakes his head against the soft fabric.

"You're perfect," he smiles, so earnest that it makes Jack's chest squeeze, "but - no. I don't really like that. Feels like I'm being restrained."

Jack frowns, adds that to the little drawer in his brain marked Davey - a drawer that is becoming so cluttered and full of tiny details and special memories that it's almost overflowing - and bites his lip.

"I could, um..." Slowly, like Jack might spook him, he lowers himself onto the the bed next to him, raising his brows in question. "If you want?"

Davey stares at him for a moment - and then it's as if all the tension in his body just bleeds out of him, as he makes wanton little grabby-hands in Jack's direction. Jack laughs quietly, grabs him gently by the shoulders and pulls, rolling them until he's flat on his back and Davey's spreadeagled on top of him - and they both sigh from somewhere deep in their bones as they lean and are leaned upon, pressing and being pressed against each other, two solid weights supporting each other in place.

"I like this," Jack murmurs into Davey's hair as they rest. Davey makes a quiet chuffing sound into his clavicle and wriggles slightly, like a cat kneading a pillow, pressing them both impossibly closer as he settles.

"Oh, yeah?" He says quietly. "You like having a big octopus on top of you?"

"My exact words were sweetest and sleepiest octopus." Jack teases, tugging lightly on one of Davey's curls. "C'mon, English Major, those're some important words, there."

"You're so weird," Davey mumbles, but Jack can feel his smile pressing through his shirt, all the way to his skin, through the muscle, until it prints like ink on his breastbone. It holds him there, keeps him perfectly still and secure - and Jack breathes like he's tasting the air for the first time.

"I love you," he says quietly, because it's the only way he can even think to put what he's feeling into words. Davey would know better than him on that. He could write sonnets about this, pages and pages of prose about how it feels just to hold someone - but Jack's not a words guy. Give him a few hours with a canvas, and maybe he can get down a fraction of what he's feeling now, the barest impression of the thousands upon thousands of colours dancing inside his head like grass in the wind. But for now, he'll just say "I love you", and hope that it's enough.

He can feel Davey's throat flex against his sternum, can feel the way his body tenses, then ebbs, like the pull of the tide.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

It's so much more than enough.

#this got SO fucking sappy towards the end #but yknow. love is stored in the stimming! #i have a few more asks queued up but they'll have to wait until after tomorrow cause. work. #alas we are all victims of capitalism #newsies #uksies #javid #javey #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #pigeon scribbles #sneepsnoopboopideeboop

[nyxi-pixie]

yosano is so dear to me because as much as i usually dislike the trope of 'one of the only regular female characters in the show gets healing powers because what else would a woman have' i do really like when that trope is turned into an insidious distorted mess.

I'm putting a readmore bc holy fuck if i start talking about yos i DO NOT know how to stop.

Like she has healing powers but the ability ITSELF is horrendously violent (needing people to be basically dead before they do anything), and she is not the kind of person you would associate with traditional healing character traits. Most of the time, they're maternal, and friendly, and soft spoken, and reserved.

Yosano is none of these things.

Quite frankly, she's a hater. and that's not to say she's unpleasant, necessarily, because she isn't. but she's a little demanding, and a little unhinged, and a lot prone to violence.

(and the dislikes on her profile refer exclusively to men. (shes an icon))

And shes like that because she is the outcome of what an ability like that, a responsibility like that, would do to a person.

Because every time she faces someone dying, there are two options: unbelievable guilt that comes with Not saving someone, or the perversion of death that comes with bringing them back. That complete and utter refusal of the natural order.

What do you do when respect for life hinges on a person's ability to die, and you have not just the power, but the expectation, to take that away?

which leads us to her backstory.

she's eleven. ELEVEN. what eleven year old has any understanding of life and death? of the importance of endings and letting people rest?

she's basically playing god and she barely even understands what that means. Or perhaps more accurately, she's playing puppet for mori playing god.

So she's there, and it's kind of a boring task at first. Like a very cavalier 'I'm here to save you all that's my job you should congratulate me bc im sm cooler than u losers.' But then she speaks to the soldiers, grows to care about them, and suddenly this ISNT a job. Its saving them out of compassion, out of a desire to see them alive. to make sure theyre okay.

and then they keep dying. and she brings them back, and they die again, and again, and again, in an endless cycle that can never end and while she's doing it unwillingly by that point, the reason they can live to suffer again is because of her.

And in realising that, in trying to put an end to that pointless cycle and Mori preventing that by shooting someone she cares about in front of her, she cannot give them reprieve because of the very ability that got her into this position in the first place. By that ability, and, ironically, by that compassion of hers.

"You are too just."

She cares too much to do what she knows is right, what she knows is kindest for the soldiers. She hasn't grown used to losing people (partially because she's eleven, but mostly because death doesn't exist to her) so she can't accept it.

and when everything goes down hill, she still thinks of it all as her fault. (even though technically its mori's, and whomever was in charge of their unit for not surrendering)

even fourteen years later, shes still haunted by what happened. even fourteen years later, the balancing act between using her ability, and letting nature run its course, is a delicate one, and one that is only facilitared by her position in the ADA.

its incredible that with that position threatened, the very reason shes learned to live with herself being put in jeopardy, she keeps herself as stable as she does.

so. she's a little bit batshit. very violent when she wants to be. ready to beat a mfer within an inch of their life at the earliest opportunity.

her very capacity to heal is twisted and messy and terrifying. it isn't soft and delicate and sweet, or even reassuring. it's practical. it's useful. but it's deeply unsettling.

and i think thats a very realistic portrayal of what it would be like to have such an unnatural control over life and death.

#yosano akiko #bsd yosano #also when women have healing powers theyre often put on the back burner (“bc theyre too valuable to be in the field!”) #aka 'we dont wanna give them screentime' coughshoko (i mean.its an in-text ISSUE that she cnt be arnd. but still. GIVE HER MORE SCREENTIME) #BUT bc of the way yosanos ability works; with the only-healing-from-near-death stipulation. #she isnt just *useful* in the field. shes practically *necessary* in high risk situations (which is why she HEAVY carried s4) #anyway. yosano makes me chew on my walls etcetc #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #guys im so normal about her i promise

[cheeriecherrymain]

eyyoooooo i see you like tropes! can i offer u some viktor x reader soulmate au in this trying time? maybe theyre both from zaun, but they never end up meeting until theyre grown, and they meet in piltover of all places?

this is not my best work but oh well im sleepy XD

Viktor x gn!Reader (SFW)

-So I wanna say that there are probably all different kinds of soul markings. Some people have a red string tied around their finger, some people can only see colour once they’ve met their soulmate, some people have a timer on their wrists, or a name.

-Viktor probably has one of the rarest kinds of marks, and it’s not really a mark at all. You can hear each other’s thoughts…but only when you want to share them.

-He doesn’t know this at first, though. As a young child, he fully believed that he didn’t have a soulmate - which wasn’t really an issue, in his opinion. Most people in the undercity didn’t have soulmates, or at least very few adhered to the bond.

-In his eyes, a soulmate isn’t necessary to have a good life. His parents weren’t soulmates, and they were plenty happy in their relationship. On top of that, he had a hard time believing that anyone would want to be stuck with him for life - none of his peers wanted anything to do with him, so it wouldn’t surprise him if his soulmate would be the same.

-He gets the shock of his life when he’s around eleven years old. He’s tinkering away on his own, working on repairing one of his father’s pocketwatches, when suddenly…a voice.

-He startles slightly, and glances around the room. Surely he’d heard someone, right? Your voice had been clear as day, so close to him you might have been speaking right into his ear - but when he peers around, the room is completely empty. And silent.

-He brushes it off, convincing himself that some noise must have carried in from outside. Until it happens again.

-Hello? A soft voice calls, tentative and questioning. Is anyone there? Mama said I should try to say hi like this, just in case.

-Viktor whips his head around the room, but there’s nothing out of place. Nowhere that someone could hide to play some kind of prank on him. Not to mention…he can’t really tell which direction your voice is coming from. It sounds like you’re…right beside him.

- “Where are you?” he asks, out loud.

-A beat of silence, then, You can hear me?

-You sound wholly surprised, as if you hadn’t ever expected anyone to answer your call. Viktor gets it - if you hadn’t reached out, would either of you have ever figured out you had a soulmate? Without a physical marking -or in this case, without someone else’s suggestion to try thinking at someone in hopes you’re heard- mental soul bonds were hard to discover.

-Viktor keeps it a secret for a couple of days. He knows his parents would want to celebrate, if they ever found out, and he doesn’t really want to go through some big debacle. Plus, he’s still not entirely certain that he hasn’t lost his mind.

-But god, do you irritate him. Constantly asking questions about him, about what he’s working on and where he’s from, his interests, his goals in life. Not just that, but you never shut up about yourself, either. He’s apparently the first person you tell whenever anything happens, whether it be local happenings and gossip, to mundane things like the weird toad you found by the runoffs.

-By day three, he’s sick of having someone in his head. In a moment of impatience, he snaps at you; tells you to leave him alone and give him some damn quiet.

-And you do.

-He expects you to start chattering to him again, after a couple of hours. You’re never able to stay away for too long, far too scatterbrained and excitable: he’s a little bit worried when night falls and your end of the line is still silent.

-He falls asleep thinking about you, but he’s too stubborn to reach out and apologize. He doesn’t realize that he enjoys your friendship yet.

-He grows antsy as another day passes, and there’s still no sign of you. He knows logically that you’re probably just pouting - in the short time he’s known you, he’s learned that you’re extremely volatile when it comes to your emotions. But he can’t help worrying - what if something had happened to you? What if he’d hurt your feelings so much that you’d distractedly tripped over something and gotten hurt?

-The thought only makes him worry more, and he ends up going to his mother about it, tearing up when he admits that he’s scared something’s happened to you.

-His mother scolds him real good for being mean about it, even if it was a necessary boundary to set. You’re both still young, though, and neither of you are particularly adept at socializing.

-He reaches out to you after his mother calms him down, trying to see if you’ll listen to him when he apologizes to you and explains that he’s used to being alone all the time and that he really likes to think in quiet places, but also that he’s sorry he was so mean about asking for some time by himself, so would you please come back so you can talk about things again?

-He’s secretly elated when your voice sighs into his mind, Fine, I suppose I’ll accept your apology. We’re soulmates, after all. But next time, just tell me when you need a little bit of time on your own, okay? I won’t be mad that you don’t want to spend every waking second glued to my hip!

-You become friends after that - good friends. Where Viktor is logical and calculating, you’re emotional and wise. Whatever either of you lacks, the other makes up for - on numerous occasions you’ve helped talk him through some of the rough patches in his projects, from smaller issues like making a pocketwatch tick backwards, to more consequential things, like malfunctioning safety mechanisms on heavy machinery.

-Well into adulthood, you’re his only friend. You never meet in person, both of you too nervous to see each other face to face, but you’re aware that you’re both from the undercity. He suspects you have a little more luxury than he does, often waxing poetic about the stars and the sunsets and tasty foods your parents bring home, but he doesn’t mention it.

-If you were from the upper levels, how would you feel about being tied to someone from down below? It’s a question he keeps to himself.

-You’re sad to learn that he’s leaving for Piltover at age nineteen, but so, so excited that he’s gotten a scholarship to the prestigious academy. You know better than anyone how he strives to do good for people, and how he takes pride in his mind and his creations. It’s a perfect place for him, and you want nothing but the best for him.

-You’re bummed that he’s going to be so far away, but then…you’d never met each other, anyways. You could still talk to each other in your heads, and that was what mattered to you.

-And then, one day, you don’t reply to him.

-He is awake especially late at night, so he thinks maybe you’ve gone to bed…but it had been over a decade since you’d not said goodnight to him.

-He tries not to let it get to him, tries to continue his work and his studies as normal. But it eats at him. As each day passes in silence, it eats at him. Something must have happened, he thinks, calling out your name every couple hours, to no avail.

-He asks around to the few people he’s on good terms with, wondering if anything notable had happened in the undercity over the past couple days - to both his relief and frustration, nothing spectacular had come up, and life was persisting as usual. But it still begged the insistent question - where the hell were you?

-At the seven day mark, Viktor is decidedly stressed. His temper is short, he has a hard time paying attention in his classes; he’s a mess, and he’s fully convinced that something terrible has befallen you.

-Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course the one person he’d ever loved, the one person who’d ever truly known him, had perished before he’d even gotten a chance to say anything. Before he’d gotten to see you smile, or hear you laugh, or feel the warmth of your skin - before you’d ever really gotten the chance to live.

-He’s stewing in his thoughts, laying on his bed with nothing but the dim light of a lamp beside him. He’s been staring at the ceiling for over an hour now, but he can’t seem to muster the strength to move. His body aches, his heart aches…

-A knock at the door.

-A sound that he ignores, rolling over onto his side to face away from the offending noise.

-Another knock.

-And then, “Viktor!” Your voice.

-His eyes widen. That had definitely been in your voice. Distant and dim, like you were trying to speak to him from behind a-

-Another knock.

- “Viktor, I swear to god, I know you’re awake. Open the door before I pick the lock, I know this is your room!”

-In a flurry of movement, he rushes to the door as fast as he can manage, loudly throwing it open to behold the sight on the other side: you. You, in the flesh. Wearing freshly-pressed clothes that were a tad too big on you, holding two suitcases that had been fastened shut with what looked like old belts.

-He stares for longer than he would like to admit, his mouth opening and closing like some kind of pale, startled fish.

- “Well?” you ask, “Are you going to let me in?”

-He steps aside, and as soon as the door shuts behind you, you’re off on a tirade: Breathlessly explaining to him that your parents had scraped up enough money for you to go live with your cousin in Piltover, where your aunt had then offered to pay for your tuition should you desire to go to school - of course you’d said yes.

-She’d pulled some strings, and by some miracle, you’d managed to get assigned to Viktor’s room. He’s barely able to keep up with what you’re saying, you’re speaking so fast.

- “The student housing office is supposed to stop by in the morning to introduce us, but I was too excited. I wanted to meet you for the first time without anyone else around.” 

-You stare up at him with comically round eyes, practically vibrating with eagerness. He has half a mind to be mad that you’d purposefully shut him out, just so you could surprise him…but he figures he can do that tomorrow. For now, he opens his arms and gestures you into a hug, too relieved that you’re in his arms to feel anything else.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #but not really #more of a bullet point story #oh well #soulmate au #im a hoe for soulmate aus #tho i wish i had more ideas for this one

[rinrites]

i am twenty years old and

i stand in the kitchen a little too long

stirring stevia into tea

and suddenly

i am nineteen years old

sobbing on the carpet after a

fourty five hour week

broke and tired and blister bleeding and

then i am eighteen,

watching my college fund get

spent on new cabinets and

a dishwasher we can’t afford.

me, seventeen,

tears streaming down my face as

each tablespoon of peanut butter brings me further away from my goal weight -

but im so hungry.

i am fifteen and

my first heartbreak is breaking my body.

my mother is sobbing that i dared

love a girl in the other room.

i am eleven and i

can’t get dinner hot and ready in time

because i don’t know when anyone will be home.

i am nine and ive been home alone

for longer than i can count.

the cupboards are empty.

the kids channel doesn’t play anymore.

and i am five years old again,

standing on the cold tiles for the first time,

wondering if this new house

(note: look up what a mortgage is)

is going to fix the chasms in me.

#writing #writers on tumblr #poetry #writerblr #aesthetic #poem #vent #love #poetscommunity #cw vent #angst #trauma #teenage angst #kitchen #christmas #home for christmas

[soccerpunching]

(if you haven't already answered this before:) how did you get into Ina11 and made you make this blog for it?

I dont think I've answered this before either (correct me if im wrong though). This goes under the cut like all of my long answers to personal asks...

For some context (this is relevant to my relationship with anime and fandom), I used to be nonverbal for the good 11-12-ish years of my life until I was traumatized out of it so now I'm semiverbal ((with like auditory hallucination, anxiety (general and social), depression, ptsd, etc)). I won't tell anything regarding this experience.

It's not really uncommon for Filipinos my age and older to be into anime because this is everything that the afternoon and morning television have for you. You would know naruto, goku, luffy, etc against your will and I was not immune to that. During that time also cable was really common (and was not paid per fucking channel, that started a few years later though) so I used to watch a lot of anime in Hero TV, Animax Ph, Cartoon Network PH, etc i dont remember the others.

I found inazuma eleven and other anime on one of them and got into it immediately (also because of my trauma) but because some personal things have to happen, I started watching all the anime I got into that time on illegal sites instead.

I was not an internet person and i cant get into chats because of the experience I've mentioned above so even though i like anime and have been reading every fanfiction about my fav shows that time and were even writing some of my own (mostly fairy tail and dbz but all are now deleted or orphaned), I never tried to get into any fandom (I am aware of how fandoms are because i had a personal twitter that i only use for rts that time but i never engaged because they were big fandoms who have... issues)... this was all until the pandemic happened.

After the pandemic, it was like people can understand my experiences suddenly and it made me feel like there are safe spaces now for me to be in so somewhere in 2021 I created a fandom tumblr and twitter account at the same time. Tumblr was overwhelming for me initially so I stayed in twitter (this is during my Encanto phase so my twitter has a small following even right now from that small fandom)... it was a so and so experience but it is my first so it was made better because of that small welcoming fandom...

A bit after that, I got into the naruto and dragon ball fandom which was a big mistake because it made me picked up some toxic feelings and even behaviour that I do not want. I tried learning tumblr more and decided that I'll stay here at the moment. I realized that the dragon ball fandom here actually have nicer people and are more mature and critical while being respectful of others so I enjoyed my tumblr stay!! I made a lot of dragon ball posts that gave me great tumblr mutuals that I still talk to to this day even after my dragon ball brainrot is gone.

Before 2022 ended, I needed a break because of some personal matters. I got into inazuma eleven again during this time after rewatching galaxy (i wanted to be inspired by their alien character designs but it had a different effect). It sparked my love for the series and made me reopen some old concepts and fanfic ideas I had for it before (this includes the vent fic I mentioned once where Kidou was evil, Endou was dead, Gouenji was a pediatrician, and Aki was the leader of a rebellion against kageyama's reign with Fudou by her side). And then, I started writing new ones nonstop for about 4 months (80k words for two different fanfic series btw that are both unfinished).

I started following some inazuma eleven blogs in May this year until I feel like I needed to make posts myself at about the start of June. The fandom had the encanto vibe to me with a cross to how old fandoms feel so it was really nice to be here!! And the rest is history ig?? hehe

Sorry for the really long answer and thanks for the ask!

#sorry for the other asks that i havent answered yet still #i still have things to do at my end so i will be back later again #not fandom lore #halftime lore vs anon

[lunawritesaa]

Hello there again! (Im that person who requested origami thing) since there are currently 9/25 requests can i please ask for Barok and Sherlock with S/O who just learned about Iris’s parents and want to adopt her. (Ik thats weird one too but i was crying and yelling when i learned about her parents lol) Sorry if its too much!!!

i was too!! like everything about her parents was so interesting, but so sad!! poor iris.. :(

slight spoilers for iris' backstory - DGS2-5

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

-> herlock sholmes

when mikotoba brings baby iris to sholmes and your home, you can't help but be instantly filled with a desire to provide for the girl in any way you can.

you couldn't imagine abandoning the baby, especially not one with as painful a history as little iris. your heart is instantly connected with her and you can't help but feel a parental love for her.

one look at herlock will tell you that he's thinking the same damn thing.

you both will be a little hesitant. after all, suddenly becoming parents is a very overwhelming. you both weren't prepared for this new family member, the house definitely needs to be prepared for a child, and more.

but still, there's the excitement too.

helping this girl, and raising her as your own, makes your heart skip a beat. especially knowing that herlock is right there, learning his way around parenthood too.

as much as you're nervous, you're much happier to give a home to this young girl and provide her with the love and happiness she deserves.

-> barok van zieks

you and barok learn of iris' true parents after his trial. it comes as a shock.. he had no idea that his sister-in-law was pregnant, not even klint mentioned it.

he's conflicted on what to do. should he talk to the girl and tell her that he's her uncle? or should he not even mention it because she's lived her life not knowing thus far who her parents were?

he's confused. he goes back and forth with saying something or not for days.

after days of him not doing anything, you bring up the idea that's been forming in your mind: offering to adopt the girl. she is a van zieks after all.

barok is... hesitant. he doesn't believe he's father material, much less father material to an eleven-year-old girl.

but still - there's a part of him that doesn't mind the idea. he'd love to welcome his niece with open arms because she's family.

she's all that's left of klint, after all.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

#ace attorney x reader #dai gyatuken saiban x reader #the great ace attorney x reader #herlock sholmes #herlock sholmes x reader #barok van zieks #barok van zieks x reader

[andvys]

y/n 12 year’s old

snickers , cheese balls eggos and dr pepper , seems like a pretty good meal. right?

wrong. not when you were technically gold for the “bad men” looking for you. grabbing your sisters hand you run run run until you run out of breath and until your legs are tired , “seven we cant keep running i am tired” eleven stresses while looking over her shoulder afraid that whatever was coming for you was even remotely close. “eleven please just five more minutes” five six seven hell even 10 minutes go by when you find yourself in front of a trailer park.

“its dark outside no one should be out maybe we can just sit on that table until its bright , you can try to get some sleep” “no seven you cant stay up alone” “eleven i am perfectly capable of doing so” shes asleep not even a minute after you said that , always being stubborn and never winning. “ouch shit fuck jesus h christ” a falling stumbling stranger comes out his trailer, not alone but with a guy whos harming him he’s crying , he looks scared even more so than you are , you’re not sure but you can sense that the man is hurting him , all thankful for you powers you want to step in , they havent noticed you and eleven yet , that being a good sign maybe your safe. til he spots you. you didn’t realize you had been walking towards the scene but somehow you’re right in front of the boy & who you assume is a bad man.

“let him go” you say. “oh ho ho , ed who is this ? you know her? she a friend from school” the man presses “no dad please just let me go” ed says “no not after what you just did and saw son , no i will not let you go and now your little friend here has to watch while i beat you black and blue” “no daddy please i wont say anything please i wont dad please , girl please go home dont tell anyone you saw this please i dont want him to hurt me” the boy says.

you take one step forward shooting a hand out and resting it on the mans forehead “no , let him go”. he stops , everything hes doing he takes two steps back from the boy and stand there blank faced. “go!” you yell thrusting your arms up. hes lifting high high high up , you throw him.

the man gets up running towards you “how did you do that little witch what the fuck was that im killing both of you , when hes a step in front of you , you once again place a hand on his forehead “go inside , forget this ever happened , ed didn’t see anything” steps taken back he disappears into his trailer away from you and the boy.

all you see is red. trails of blood falling from your nose , you reach up to wipe , your hands are covered “oh no” the boy catches you as you fall

POWERED READER UNIVERSE ??? not a writer but an idea ? 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🥹🥹🥹

I love this so much 😭 little eddie and reader meeting each other when they’re younger and he suddenly has a cool friend with superpowers? i love that idea so much! you actually make me wanna write it 🤭

reader should kick eddie’s dad’s ass

#andy’s asks #tw mentions of abuse #eddie x powered!reader #fic ideas

[comfortstars]

I'll be forever mad at the ending of narnia. i spent months reading all the books and my favorite character ended up "forgetting" about everything and being left alone on the earth because she grew up or something??? idk im still angry at it

#YES i know there's a deeper meaning to it I Know but my eleven year old self was MAD that susan was suddenly left out or everything #i still love the books and again i know there's supposed to be a meaning behind it but im allowed to be sad about susan ok #lennie makes posts

[yinses]

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !! 

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind.  really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature. 

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.  

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

[waithyuck]

TRICKY

pairing: elf! na jaemin x reader (f) **halloweenie special**

genre: smut, supernatural au

word count: 3k

warnings: {OKAY IM PUTTING A WARNING FOR VERY MILD *DUB-CON* BC TECHNICALLY THE READER IS TRICKED , BUT IN THE END OBVIOUSLY CONSENTS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED}, sexual content (fingering, dry humping), explicit language, use of several pet names, possessive behavior and vocabulary, reader just wants to find her damn cat but gets a whole lot more than that, bad attempts at explaining folklore, I’m sorry for any inaccuracies 😬 **ALSO UNEDITED**

a/n: **repost bc tumblr sucks** this is definitely more of my own spin on what I think an elf would be like, so sorry to those of you who are into the lore and stuff 🥺

< previous | next >

~10/14/2020~

~~~~

your grandmother was always a very smart woman, and you knew that very well. so when she told you not to do something, you made sure to NEVER do it.

you lived with her on the very outskirts of your town; your own backyard made up of a very dense forest with enough trees in it to block out almost all sunlight. your bedroom window faced the forest, and every night you were forced to stare at it as you sat at your desk, contemplating what went on in there.

your grandmother repeatedly told you to never go in there, no matter what, ever since you were a child. she would talk about all kinds of crazy things, like witches and faeries, and even elves.

the first time she told you about the dark forest, you were only six years old.

“you can’t go in there, y/n.” she said seriously, crouching before you as you stood in the kitchen with her. “no matter how much it may call you, you can never enter it.”

you didn’t understand, so of course, in typical child fashion, you questioned her.

“well why not?” you shot back, crossing your arms and pouting. she stood back up after looking at you for a second, going back to mixing brownie batter in a large bowl.

“the fae are dangerous creatures. the forest is littered with them, my dear.” she stopped for a moment, gazing out the kitchen window and into the thick gathering of trees and plant life. “the elves will claim you once you enter, and you may never be able to escape again.”

after that, she didn’t say much else to you about it.

at first, you thought she was just trying to scare you into not wandering off, but after a while you began to believe her.

there would be strange noises in the night; like whispers calling out to you from the direction of your window. it creeped you out but you tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination playing tricks on you.

your life continued on like that for years, and eventually it didn’t phase you at all. you were used to the nightly whispers now, and even your cat didn’t seem to mind them, if she could hear them at all.

you never told your grandmother about them, however. she was getting old and you didn’t want to be the reason she had a heart attack, as awful as that sounded.

for being as old as she was, she still got around pretty good, and there were days when she left you along for a good few hours to go out on walks with her other old lady friends.

it was really cute.

today was just like any other day like that; your grandmother left around eleven in the morning to go out, leaving you some breakfast on the counter for when you inevitably stumbled out of your room at one o’clock in the afternoon.

everything seemed normal. you ate in silence and scrolled through your phone at the kitchen table, but then noticed something was right.

looking around you, you noticed your cat was nowhere in sight. she would usually be up on the table sitting and staring at you or rubbing against your leg for no reason, but currently she was nowhere to be found.

at first you just assumed she was sleeping somewhere else, but after eating you searched the house and couldn’t find her anywhere. walking back into the kitchen you happened to glance outside and your heart jumped in your chest.

then you started to panic.

looking out into the backyard you saw her stark white fur disappear into the thick brush of the forest, and you almost screamed out loud at the sight.

“fuck,” you exclaimed, your heart racing and your mind thinking of all the ways to try to get her back. you were always advised to not go into the forest...but you couldn’t let your poor cat who you loved very dearly to get mauled out there by some bigger animal.

you had to go after her.

you mustered you all the courage you had inside you, not bothering to change out of your ratty shorts and t-shirt before shoving your feet in your sneakers. you let out a shaky breath as you walked into your backyard, staring down the darkness of the forest with determination.

as you apprehensively made your way to the very entrance of the brush, you spotted a large crooked stick, and didn’t hesitate to grab it to use as a weapon if necessary.

you didn’t want to be completely defenseless against any supernatural creatures you came across. you had a gut feeling that running into one would be inevitable, and the fear rang like a siren in the back of your mind like a sonata.

the ‘do not enter’ and ‘keep out: danger’ signs did nothing to ease your pounding heart and screaming nerves, but you pressed on regardless. you had to do this, for your stupid cat.

with one large step, you passed the boundary of the trees, the wind picking up as soon as you did. a chill ran down your spine but you kept your legs moving, careful not to break your ankles on any protruding roots. it was incredibly dark, even though the sun was high in the sky, but the leaves of the towering trees cut out almost all light.

you stumbled around aimlessly for what felt like hours, but in reality it had only probably been about 45 minutes before you stopped and took a breather. checking your phone for the time, you felt a pang in your chest when you realized that it was off, and wouldn’t turn back on no matter how hard you tried.

“fuck,” you muttered, fear creeping up on your soul once again. you really didn’t want to be in this forest longer than necessary, and you really seriously contemplated just leaving your cat behind, as horrible as that was.

your eyes gazed around, taking in the trees surrounding you. nothing seemed too out of the ordinary...all though you really though you saw a few small dashes of light fly around you through your periphery. you prayed that they weren’t pixies or fairies of whatever else your grandmother told you about.

you didn’t trust anything, no matter how beautiful or non-threatening they seemed to be on the outside.

“hello there.” a voice spoke out suddenly, causing you to jump and spin around, dropping your makeshift weapon in the process.

your eyes met the sight of a young man who looked to be around your age, with a slightly unsettling smile upon his face. he was almost too handsome; the beauty that emanated from him in waves was incredibly addicting, and you felt the pull of him immediately. it was hard to tear your eyes away, and that scared you.

you had no idea where he had come from, nor did you know how he managed to so quietly sneak up behind you like he did. you definitely would have heard him coming, considering the amount of twigs and leaves littering the ground at your feet.

your heart raced at the possibility of who, or what, he was, your mind trying to go through everything your sweet old grandmother ever told you. some inner part of you already knew what you were dealing with.

“don’t hurt yourself, darling,” the man spoke again, referencing to your mind working in overtime. he took a step forward toward you, and in turn you took a large stumbling step back. he watched you move, chuckling. “I’m jaemin, care to tell me your name?”

“n-no,” you managed to say, your hands clutched at your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart. you swore you saw his eyes flicker a bright aquamarine for a moment before returning back to brown as his smile faltered slightly. It came back a split second later.

“you’re a smart girl,” he purred, most likely realizing that you knew he wasn’t human, inching closer once more. you felt frozen, unable to step back like you truly wanted to, and you willed yourself not to panic. “you know what I am, I presume?”

your lips shook as you opened your mouth to speak, your tongue running over your chapped lips and he watched every single movement, causing your body to shiver.

“I have a-an idea,” you softly whispered, not breaking eye contact as he stopped in front of you. he didn’t say a word, only smiling at you as you stayed frozen in your spot. one word screamed in your mind: elf. you didn’t even have to look at his pointed ears to deduct that. the vibe he gave off was abundantly clear, even if you had never encountered another being of his kind before.

it didn’t feel like he was compelling you; it was more or less your reaction to the immense shock and fear you felt, coming in contact with a creature your grandmother always warned you about.

and it’s all because of your dumb cat.

“l-look dude, I’m just trying to find my cat.” you stated strongly now, holding your ground as best you could as he looked at you intensely, that slightly unsettling smile never leaving his face.

“once it entered the forest it became mine.” he simply retorted, leaning against the tree trunk beside him. “anything that passes the trees here belongs to me…” he paused for a moment, his eyes now glowing a full bright aquamarine, startling you as he seared his gaze through your very soul. “so I guess that means you’re mine as well. how lucky.”

the elf spoke softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made you shiver, paired with his choice of words.

“I-I’m not..” you stuttered, your fists clenched by your sides. was he the ruler of the forest? some sort of elf king?

“you’re not?” he asked, chuckling to himself as he pushed his body from the tree, slowly slithering toward you on his bare feet. “did you not hear what I said? everything in this forest is mine. that includes living creatures,” you had no willpower to move away as he crowded your space, his glowing eyes paralyzing you as his body drew closer and closer. “I wonder what I should do with my new possession.” he smirked to himself, reaching a pale hand out to gently cup your chin, laughing lowly as you instinctively flinched. “you are without a doubt the prettiest thing I’ve seen enter my domain in years, princess. I’ve been waiting for you.”

his last sentence threw you off, but for a moment your brain couldn’t remember the whispers you heard all those years, and it didn’t click. you couldn’t deny that this elf man was attractive; and you couldn’t deny the fact that his voice had your legs weakening with every word he spoke. you cursed yourself mentally for being affected by him, because deep down you were aware of the danger of encountering elves.

thinking back to your cat, you wondered why she would have left the house in the first place. she was lazy and never wanted to really move...unless something was calling her…

your heart seemed to stop beating and your blood ran cold.

“you tr-tricked me…” you said in realization, your eyes widening. “you tricked me into coming in here, using m-my cat!” your voice was panicked and you found it hard to breathe. then, your brain finally figured it out. “you’re the one that’s been whispering to me all these years, aren’t y-you?”

he smiled at you with dark aquamarine eyes, and now you weren’t sure how you were going to get yourself out of this mess.

you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to get out of this mess.

wait, what?, your eyes widened at your own thoughts, where did that come from??

suddenly and without warning, your entire body was grasped in his hold. his hands dominantly gripped your waist and flipped you around so that your front was smacked up against a tree, the sharp bark scratching your cheek as your face was scraped against it.

“you’re my kitty now.” his voice whispered directly into your ear, his breath causing your body to visibly shiver in his hold.

you didn’t mean to whine, you really didn’t, but when he his teeth found your ear and nibbled gently on the skin, you couldn’t hold it in. your legs trembled beneath you as your knees weakened, the feeling of his warm body pressed tightly against your back leaving you wanting more and more.

he pressed deceivingly sweet kisses along your neck, your hands clutching the bark of the tree in response, your nails scratching along the surface. you jolted when you felt his right hand move down your front and nestle between your legs, putting pressure right against your covered center.

“hmm, you want it, don’t you?” he mumbled quietly, his chest rumbling against your back. “your thoughts are so loud, I know you can’t resist me.”

your thighs clenched in anticipation as he ran his long fingers delicately along your core through your shorts, and you let out a breathy whimper in response.

he tsk’d at you, giving your pussy a light slap through the thin fabric before completely drawing it away. “I wanna hear you say yes, kitty.”

his voice was demanding as he spoke, and you couldn’t disobey.

with your eyes glazing over, you gripped the tree trunk tightly and mewled out, “yes!”

you could practically hear him smirk, his chuckling causing you to grow even more wet as he finally slipped his hand down your front and into your shorts. when his long finger reached your bare and sensitive nub, you could help but arch your back, causing your ass to press tightly against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned right in your ear, his hips bucking and grinding against your behind in time with his strokes against your clit.

“you’re already so wet, darling,” he moaned out, dipping his finger down to circle your entrance. “I could just...slide right in.” with those words, he slipped his index finger into you in one clean movement, his long finger reaching deep inside your pussy.

you cried out when the tip of his finger brushed a sweet spot inside you, and you heard him groan in response, a deep chuckle following.

“good girl,” he muttered, casually slipping his middle finger inside you beside his pointer. the stretch had you throwing you head back, giving him access to your pretty neck. “be as loud as you want, baby. it’s just me, you, and the forest now.”

his hips grinding against your from behind never ceased, and he thrusted his fingers to the same rhythm as his hips. he was literally fingerfucking you; before you knew it he was adding a third finger.

to help with the burn of the stretch, he reached his free hand down and used two fingers to pinch and roll your clit, making you squeeze your eyes shut and clench your teeth at the sudden immense pleasure you were feeling.

it was embarrassing, but you were already so close to reaching your high. you really wanted this feeling to last forever, so you tried to hold it as long as you could.

the noises escaping from you only grew louder the harder he went; the powerful strokes from his hips driving you into the bark of the tree and his fingers plowing deep inside you had you practically screaming.

his lips found your neck and he left wet kisses there, his grains and growls only enhancing your feelings of ecstasy. he sounded like sin, and even though he was an elven boy that you had just stumbled across, you knew you didn’t want him to leave your life. you never wanted to live in a world where you couldn’t hear his moans, and that thought almost terrified you. the effect he was having on you was extremely intense, and you weren’t sure if it was normal, but at this point you were far too gone to care.

“are you gonna cum, kitty?” he strained out, breaking you out of your thought as his hips stuttered against your ass, his fingers still powerfully fucking into you. you could only nod desperately, your throat sore from the guttural sounds you were releasing.

he let out a breathy laugh, causing your walls to flutter around his digits. “then cum. I wanna feel you fucking drench my fingers.”

his words were all it took for you to let go. you screamed as you came, your nails scratching against the tree as your cheek scraped sharply on the bark, most likely drawing blood. your pussy clamped so hard around his fingers that he could barely move them in and out of you, so he drew circles over your clit to help you ride out your orgasm.

his hips pressed tightly against you, and you could feel through your own pants the wet spot on the front of his, indicating that he had cum as well.

after a powerful minute of cumming, you felt your eyes droop in exhaustion almost immediately. jaemin withdrew his fingers from you, wiping your essence on his pants before grouping your waist to keep you from collapsing. you definitely would have fallen if it weren’t for his hold on you.

he gently lowered you to the ground, turning your body so your back was able to rest against the trunk. he wiped at the scratches on your cheek with his thumb, but even though it stung you didn’t have the energy to flinch.

“go to sleep, precious.” he said softly, still stroking your face lovingly. his gentle nature should have set off all of the alarms in your mind and body, but you didn’t have enough energy to care.

in the back of your mind you realized that you probably would never see your cat or your grandmother again, and that you would most likely be trapped in this forest with jaemin for the rest of your days on earth. you didn't want to think about it now, so you took his advice and allowed your eyes to close, dreaming of jaemin and nothing else.

maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

#jaemin smut #nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #na jaemin smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #na jaemin #jaemin #nct #nct dream #halloweenie special #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #na jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenarios #jaemin drabbles #na jaemin drabbles #nct drabbles #nct dream drabbles #nct 2020

[crimson-wrld]

Whumptober 3 - "Who did this to you?"

CW: referenced kidnaping/captivity, stabbed, blood, implied domestic abuse, referenced threats, wound tending

Caretaker is just about to relax in his bed to watch tv when his ringtone sounds. He groans, setting the remote down in the mound of covers and reaches to grab his phone off the nightstand. The number that shows is one he doesn't have saved and doesn't recognize. Normally, he wouldn't answer, but something inside him convinces him to.

“Hello?” he answers. At first there is no response, just a quiet rustling and heavy breathing into the phone. Caretaker rolls his eyes, must be a stupid prank caller calling him at eleven pm. Just before he hits the end call button though, a raspy voice speaks.

“...Caretaker?” the voice calls, starting meekly before growing slightly louder.

Caretaker's heart misses a beat, breath catching in his throat when he hears it. He couldn't believe it, he can't remember the last time that voice met his ears.

"Whumpee? Is that you?" He asks in disbelief.

There's a second of hesitation before he receives an answer, "Yeah… it's me… Are you busy?" 

The speech is slurred and slow. Caretaker can't help the irritation that bubbles up in his core. He hasn't seen Whumpee in almost a year at least, he left with no warning, only a single text, suddenly completely ghosting Caretaker, and now, he's calling him this late, like nothing happened?

"Are you drunk, Whumpee?" Caretaker asks, his annoyance clear in his tone.

"N-no, i'm not drunk…" The answer comes back, still slurred. Caretaker wonders if Whumpee even registers what he asked.

He rolls his eyes, "Then why are you talking like that?" Caretaker asks angrily, his mood completely changed from the serenity of before. Of course he missed Whumpee, but if Whumpee could just throw away their friendship… their relationship… so easily, then Caretaker could feel a little betrayed.

Okay, he feels very betrayed.

"I'm-I'm not... talking like anyth-" Whumpee's words are cut off by a sharp gasp that turns into a low hiss. Caretaker furrows his eyebrows. Something isn't right.

"Are you hurt?"

On the other end of the phone, Whumpee clutches at his side, eyes screwed shut tight. At the question, they blink open, and he glimpses down at his hand. Red slips through his fingers and begins to pool beside him. He breathes in, trying to regulate his heartbeat.

"No."

Caretakers annoyance fades. As much as he wants to stay mad and ask why Whumpee left him, he can't help the concern that takes over.

"Whumpee. I know-- knew you. I can tell somethings up. Where are you?"

Caretaker can hear the pained hesitation even through the phone. It takes nearly a minute for Whumpee to answer.

"Caretaker… I-I need you…" he whispers.

When Whumpee finally coughs up an address, Caretaker is in his car in an instant. He soon arrives at a house, dimly lit from the outside. He grabs his first aid kit from the seat and rushes to the front door, finding it unlocked. He steps in cautiously, calling out for Whumpee.

"I'm in here…" he calls back. The house is almost completely dark. Caretaker follows the voice into the kitchen where he sees a shadowed figure crumpled on the floor. There is a small amount of light coming from the windows, Caretaker uses it to locate the lightswitch on the wall. He flicks it and turns, gasping at the sight.

Whumpee is sitting there, staring blankly at the wall. A large purple bruise rests over his right eye, and dried blood forms a line under one of his nostrils, smudged over his lips and chin. His face is littered with cuts. He's absentmindedly holding onto his side, hand covered in blood.

"Oh my god Whumpee!" Caretaker exclaims, surprised. He didn't know what he expected, but it surely wasn't anything this bad. "We need to get you to a hospital!"

As if coming out of a trance, Whumpees eyes snap open, he almost looks caught off guard by Caretaker himself.

"No, N-no hospital…" 

Caretaker finally shakes off his shock, rushing to Whumpee's side, quickly joining him on the floor and fumbling the latches of the first aid kit open. Whumpee gives a delayed flinch, and stares dazed eyes back at Caretaker.

"Whumpee," Caretaker says softly, lightly grabbing his wrist, "I need to see..." 

Whumpee bites his lip, and reluctantly loosens his hold, letting Caretaker move his arm away. He pushes up Whumpees shirt, gulping down the lump in his throat, the feeling of nausea he suddenly notices. 

Nearly every inch of skin is covered in a menagerie of colour; red, purple, blue, yellow splattered like paint over Whumpees flesh. Then, there's the gash just above Whumpees hip, jagged and gruesome.

"...Who did this to you?" He whispers with a shaking voice, his wide eyes watch carefully as he puts on gloves and begins to clean the wound. 

Whumpee wracks through his brain for an answer. There's a name sitting right on his tongue, ready to pass through his teeth like the very breath he breathes. He swallows it though, he knows the hurt that will come from rushed decisions.

Much like the one he's in right now.

"I can't tell you that- ah!" He says, crying out When Caretakers fingers press on sensitive skin.

"-Sorry. Why can't you tell?"

"You don't understand, Caretaker." Whumpee sighs, running a hand through his hair. He wants to relish in Caretakers company. He can't remember the last time he heard his voice, the last time he slept wrapped in his arms, covered in blankets and warm kisses, the last time he truly felt comforted, felt safe. But calling him was a mistake, a rushed decision of panic he shouldn't have made.

"What do you mean? Whumpee, whoever fucking did this is a bad person-"

"You think I don't know that!?" Whumpee yells, accidently jerking the wound, lighting the other bruises on fire along with it. He grabs Caretaker's hand instinctively, squeezIng through the pain. Caretaker lets him.

An old habit.

Whumpee whimpers and closes his eyes, "Im protecting you…" 

He lets go of Caretaker's hand to let him finish tending to his wound, looking anywhere but Caretaker's eyes.

"Protecting me..?" Caretaker asks. He tries not to let his emotions hinder his ability to properly help. This situation has torn his soul in two. He doesn't like seeing Whumpee like this.

"I didn't want to leave you," Whumpee whispered. Caretaker finishes bandaging the cut, finally, he gets to look at Whumpee… look at how he's changed.

His hair is a dark brown now, different from his natural dirty blond, and he wears a choker around his neck. Whumpee hates having stuff around his neck, he'd never take a necklace from Caretaker.

Whumpee notices Caretaker looking, and reaches slowly to grab his hand again. 

"It's how he likes it…" he murmurs softly, "He threatened to hurt you if I didn't leave you, if I didn't go with him. I shouldn't have called you, I'm putting you in danger." Whumpee says with a shake of his head, tears falling from his eyes.

"I miss you Whumpee… This person is hurting you… I mean look at you! You're their captive!" Caretaker says, tears falling from his own eyes, unable to stop his voice from raising. He doesn't know if he'd rather the truth be that Whumpee didn't like him anymore and just left on his own volition. Anything would be better than this.

"I know. I miss you too," Whumpee responds, his heart breaks into a million more pieces inside his chest. He hates that he has no choice. He doesn't want Caretaker to end up like him; a shell of his former self, broken for someone to control his every move-- his every thought.

"Then who is this 'he,' Whumpee? Let me help you." Caretaker pleads to him with wide open, worried eyes, his voice cracking.

Whumpee looks down at their hands still interlocked, lets himself feel that comfort, even if just for a little while. He knows Whumper will be home soon, and he will not let Caretaker go down with him. So he swallows his wants like he's learned to, clears his throat and stands his ground for the first time in a long time.

"Nobody."

Taglist:

@myst-in-the-mirror

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you #whump #whump writing #blood tw #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump scenario

[from-a-reckless-writer]

you know since they brought out a young cat grant i kinda want lena to talk to kara about cat and kara being surprised that lena isnt intimidated by cat grant and goes as far as calling cat grant, “sweet.” 

and kara’s just: “WHAT? MISS GRANT IS SWEET???” kara thinks ookayy that makes sense cos theyre both powerful intimidating women??? so maybe that’s what sweet is in lena luthor standards??? 

but it all makes sense one night, the both of them laying in bed; lena with a book, big black glasses sliding down her nose adorably and kara flipping channels as she casually tells lena about cat grant doing a surprise visit and asking kara to get coffee earlier that day. lena casually says, “mm. yeah. that’s great darling, always liked cat.” and kara asks, surprised, “you like cat??? you’ve never told me about any times the two of you met.”

“oh, yeah, i mean we haven’t interacted all that much i guess. she’s always on the press side of things while im on, well...the other side. besides, i like her favorite reporter interviewing me more than cat grant herself interviewing me.”

and kara just blushes, stutters out, “i-i’m not cat’s favorite.”

“mm. yeah, right. whatever you say, kara. anyway, yeah, we haven’t talked much but i do remember the first time we met.”

and lena puts her book and she gets this sentimental look on her face that makes kara more curious.

“yeah? when?”

“i think i was 11 or 12 at the time. and cat wasn’t you know, she wasn’t, ‘cat grant’ yet.” she makes these adorable air quotation’s around cat’s name and kara smiles. 

“anyway, she was doing a coverage on the luthor family and i remember lillian, pulling me aside, once cat and her cameraman arrived. told me to not talk to the reporter lady.” 

kara feels that familiar tug at her heart whenever lena talks about her childhood. and oh, how kara aches to hug an eleven-year old lena and tell her that soon, she’ll meet kara and lena can talk as long as likes as much as she wants and kara would always listen.

“it wasn’t much of a problem. i mean, i don’t really talk all that much. and besides i was only there because they said cat needed pictures of the luthor family together,” lena continues and kara might not be able to hug eleven year old lena luthor but she can wrap around this lena luthor beside her, so she does that and lena continues talking. 

“and so, lillian was showing cat around or something, when cat  suddenly stopped to talk to me,” she omitted the part where lillian told cat to stop bothering lena because her daughter was very shy and she really doesn’t really like talking. 

“and i think i was writing in my notebook or something when cat approached me and she asked me what i was doing and i just showed her my notebook, not saying a word, cos i was scared lillian would be mad.”

lena shifts closer to kara on the bed as she notices kara’s hand clench tighter on the remote at the mention of lillian again. 

“and then cat asked what the my scribbling meant. and i think it was an old experiment, i can’t remember much. but i do recall thinking that, surely this is another one of those reporter trying to suck up and i didn’t think she’d care about it but she asked me and she made me talk even though lillian was staring her down. and i think lillian was really pissed off that some blonde reporter disobeyed her wishes and spent half the time talking to her stepdaughter about some stupid science shit. anyway, yeah. i remember cat grant.”

lena waves her hand as if it wasn’t much of a big deal but kara knows better, assesses the slight tremble to lena’s voice as she continues, “she uh-- she made me feel like a person that day. on a day i didn’t feel like much of a person, more like lillian’s stage prop. but yeah, cat grant. i like her. besides, she brought me kara danvers, what’s not to like about that?”

#anyways another blurb #i have waayyyy to much free time in my hands lately so you get all this #you get many many words #many words about this idiots in love and a sprinkling of a young cat grant #if you see a typo no u didnt #supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp

[draculcid]

we’re fucked, it’s fine

it’s already june in nz, so happy pride month, you sexy people! here’s whatever this is. a lot of this is based on personal experience. i got high while writing it at the end. it’s also not proof-read. a chaotic journey, if you ask me.

"Hey, Tommy?" eleven-year old Steve asked. His hands were shaking.

"Mm? Yeah?"

"I think I like boys."

Steve could see Tommy turn to him out of the corner of his eye, but his eyes stayed glued on the TV. Luke Skywalker and Han Solo were going to rescue Princess Leia and he would rather see that than know his friend's reaction to the news. Especially now that Tommy was being so silent, so different from his usual chatty self.

Steve looked down at his hands. "I-I understand if you don't want to be my-my best friend anymore. I know it's kinda, like, weird."

"No-" Tommy was quick to say. "It's not that."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, glancing at his friend.

"Yeah, man. I just got distracted by Luke Skywalker."

Steve laughed softly, then stayed silent. He looked back down at his hands again. 

"I don't mind that you're gay," Tommy continued. "That's the word you use, by the way."

"I know." Steve said, rolling his eyes, but he was smiling, which was something. "And I don't think I am. I-I like girls too." He finally looked at his best friend properly, but only to see his reaction. 

"Oh! Me too! My mom told me the word for that! It's pansexual, I think... or is it bisexual? Wait, let me call my mom." He reached for the phone, but before he could press any of the buttons, Steve was snatching it away, eyes wide and stunned. 

"TOMMY!" he yelled, throwing his hands up. "Don't ask her! It's-I don't want anyone to know yet."

"Not even Carol? Or your parents?" 

"Especially not them!" Steve slumped down, suddenly exhausted. He put his hands over his face to hide the fact that he might cry. Tommy’s eyes widened. "Dude..."

"I know, I know. Okay. It's just- I don't know if they'll be cool with it, ya know? They’re not like your mom." Steve took his hand away from his face and turned his head to look at Tommy, his cheek resting on the couch. "They're not- they can kick me out or whatever. I don't want them to-to hate me, and maybe they would leave me at home all alone more often if they knew.”

"They wouldn’t, Stevie."

"You don't know that. They could hate gay people for all I know."

"Yeah...maybe.." Tommy trailed off, scooting closer to Steve until their shoulders were touching. "I get that. My cousin thinks gay people come from hell. He says the devil makes us. But Mami says that's stupid, because God is the only being in the universe with the power to create life." 

Steve tensed at that. "Do you think the devil made me?"

"No, dude. My cousin is crazy. He thinks the devil made everything. Even science, because it goes against God, even though science is cool. No cool thing can be made by anyone but God, so.."

That made Steve snort. "I don’t like science, Tommy.” He then leaned his head on his best friend's shoulder, sighing. “So I'm not from hell?"

"Nope. God made you, just like he made everyone else. And he made you super cool!" A laugh escaped Steve’s lips before he could help it. "Thanks, Tom." 

Tommy got up and grabbed the remote from where it was discarded. "So? You wanna finish the movie?"

Steve smiled. "Yeah.."

I’m fucked, he thought.

-

"I don't like sex," thirteen-year old Billy blurted suddenly. His best friend, Luca, looked up from his sandwich. "What?"

"Yeah. Most guys in our grade talk about it and- and how cool and fun it is and I just- everytime a girl touches me- it makes me feel weird-" Billy stopped. He pushed his hair out of his face. "I don't know, man. I just don’t like fuckin’ with them."

"So you're ace?"

"Ace?"

That made Luca smile. "Asexual. That means you don't like to have sex."

"Oh." Ace. Asexual. "Does that mean I can't- what if sex with guys sounds good? Not with girls though? I’d like to have sex with a guy."

Luca rolled his eyes. "Okay. Gay, then."

Im fucked, Billy thought.

"What if I want to like girls?"

“You can’t really choose, dumbass. It just happens. You like some people and you don’t like others.”

Billy sighed and tapped his fingers on the table, “I can pretend though.”

"You can.” Luca furrowed his brows, “but that won’t feel good. You’re gay and that’s fine. It’s not bad.”

Billy tried to hide it but he smiled then, because it fit. Gay. Boys.

Huh. Not bad.

 -

Billy liked the label. He didn’t like to be Billy The Gay Dude though. He was just Billy. He was always and will always be Billy- a normal teenager who liked to go to parties, who was trying to save up for a car, who stayed up past his bed-time to read horror stories. He was Billy. He just happened to like boys.

That’s fine.

-

It was rare that Mr. Harrington  and Mrs. Harrington were anything but calm and collected in front of their son. But when Steve walked into the living room of the house, his mother was pacing furiously, and his father was talking on the the phone, jaw tense and eyes determined.

"Yes, I understand that it's none of my business, but considering the fact that all of the men that work for you are idiots- or homos, I'm making it my business," Mr. Harrington snapped, huffing. Steve pulled his mother to sit next to him on the couch and raised his eyebrow in question.

"Your father’s trying to figure something out," she whispered. "He'll talk to you when he’s done, hopefully." Steve shook his head. "Why is he mad?" he whispered back.

"It's a stupid idea is what it is... Frankly, I don't care if that offends you, Sir. What you're proposing is absurd, no matter what you believe it is. I do not want him to work at a public pool when he’s all of that..."

"They found out that a gay boy works at the community pool," his mother replied, pushing Steve to a side.

"Yeah, well you can shove your faggotry up your ass," Mr. Harrington said, ending the call. He put a shaking hand over his face and took a deep breath. When he took his hand away from his face, it was obvious he was serious about this.

"Needless to say," Mrs. Harrington said, louder now, "we want him fired."

Steve was speechless. "Wait-why?"

"Because they're parasites," his father said before his mother could reply. “They’re a goddamn disease plaguing our community, Steven.”

A tense silence stretched as Steve tried to process the news.

"I have a bisexual friend at school," Steve finally said, his voice soft. I am that bisexual friend. “He- He’s just a normal guy. Like you, Dad. He needs jobs too. You shouldn’t take that away.”

His father scoffed at the fact that Steve was friends with someone like that. His mother smiled sadly. "No, Steven. You’ve just always been so soft."

"Yeah, because maybe he needs that job. Maybe he doesn’t have what we have. Not everyone is lucky."

"It’s not being lucky, it’s being a hard worker.” Mr. Harrington clarified. “And I’m just trying to keep people like him away from my family and friends,” he added. He sighed after a while, “they don’t want to fire him anyway. Chief is against it.”

"It’s better for business if you just leave the kid alone," Steve offered. For business.

"Yeah, I will. I don’t want him to taint my reputation anyway.”

Steve smiled a little, but it was more of a grimace. A hand landed on his shoulder, and when he looked up, his mother was looking at him with dark, reflective eyes. "So thoughtful."

Steve shrugged. "I just look at the bigger picture," he said as an explanation. “It could affect Dad’s entire business if he seemed like he was discriminating against someone.”

Mr. Harrington nodded. "Damn straight, son."

-

When Billy was dying on the mall floor, there were two things that were on his mind:

1. I should apologize to Max.

2. My mom died too and she never knew I was gay.

Which is kind of stupid. But he couldn't help it.

When he woke up at the hospital, random people and kids kept bringing him flowers, or gave him pity-hugs. And for some reason, he wished he died just so that he could tell her. Mom, I’m gay.

He could feel his heart tug and clench with tremendous guilt because I should have died and she'll never know I'm gay. My mother will never know I'm gay.

"Hargrove?" Steve was sitting next to Billy’s bed. Which felt weird for both of them, obviously. But Steve insisted to visit often, so apparently they were friends now, and Billy didn't have the energy to fight him.

Plus, he kind of was good company.

"Where's your head at, hm?" Steve said when he didn't answer.

He looked up from his hands at Steve, who was smiling soft at him. His eyes were slightly red, and he was paler than usual; something in Billy’s chest tugged at the sight, and he wanted to pull Steve into bed next to him and force him to get some sleep.

I should have died. She’ll never know I'm gay.

"Harrington?" Billy asked, voice breaking. His hand was shaking too much to nudge Steve, so he had to use his voice.

"Billy?" The smile dropped off Steve’s face, and the tug in his chest turned into a burn. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She'll never know. She died never knowing something really important about me.

Tears were rolling freely down Billy’s face now. "Harrington, I-Harrington, I have to tell you something."

"Go on," he said, eyes dripping in concern. He took Billy’s shaking hand in his, and something in Billy broke.

"H-Harrington," he sobbed, clutching his stomach because he suddenly couldn't breathe. "Ste-Steve, oh my god. I fucked-I fucked up-p. So b-bad-bad. Like, real-really ba-bad."

There was a screech, and suddenly Steve was crouching on the floor next to him, his hand cupping Billy’s face. He rubbed his cheek. "Billy, breathe. Shhh. Breathe, Billy."

"Steve." He felt like his lungs were on fire. He felt like he was covered in goo. All over him. Over his legs, arms, chest. Into his mouth, blocking his airway- into his lungs, filling them up like water. He felt like he was a fish, used to breathing in water but dying in air.

He felt crazy.

She's not going to be here for my first date- with a boy. My first kiss- with a boy. My wedding. Kids, maybe. She's never going to come with me to Pride. She's not going to be here for my college graduation. She's never going to see me find love. She's never going to know I'm gay.

Steve nudged something at his lips, and Billy looked down to see his inhaler. In his half-lucid mind, he forgot that he didn't have normal functioning lungs anymore. He parted his lips, letting the fresh air fill his lungs. He took a deep breath, then inhaled the other hit. And another. Once he was breathing normally again, aside from the occasional hiccup, he deflated, suddenly exhausted.

"That’s good," Steve cooed, brushing the hair from his face. "Better?"

All he could do was nod at him, trying not to concentrate on the tears streaking down Steve’s face. "Good. You're fine, okay? You're fine."

Billy grabbed Steve’s hand from his cheek, keeping it there. Trying to still it, even though his own hand was shaking. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I-" He closed his eyes and squeezed his hand. "My mom doesn't- I- she’s never gonna know me, Steve. I'm not straight and- and she's dead- and she's never gonna kn-know. Steve, I’m gay. I-I'm not st-straight. I'm no-not- I'm not and she's never--can't."

"God, Billy..."

"Don-don't be mad," he cried, letting go of Steve’s hand and putting it over his eyes.

"Billy, why would I be mad?"

"Don't be mad at me. It’s not-It’s not my- fault. I-I-can't-"

"Billy," Steve said, his voice firm. He took his hand away from his face and kissed it. "Billy. I'm not mad. I would never be mad at you for that. Never."

Billy tugged at Steve’s hand until he stood up and sat on the bed next to him. Tears were still streaming down Billy’s face. "She never got to know me, Steve," he whispered, “She wouldn’t have loved me.”

She's never gonna know I'm not straight.

"Billy..." Steve brought a hand around his waist, pulling him towards him, then buried his nose into Billy’s neck. Billy could feel Steve’s teardrops on his shoulder.

"Steve, she-she died thinking I was-I was so-something else. Someone else."

"It's okay-it's okay."

"No, Steve. I-she died and I-I can't-she's never go-going to know and it-its killing me."

Steve didn't say anything. Just buried himself into Billy’s neck and hugged him tight.

When something can't be fixed, Billy thought, the people you love hold you. And they let you cry.

He's holding me and letting me cry because he can't fix this. This can't be fixed. She'll never know I'm gay. 

Billy rested his head on Steve’s and cried into his hair until they both fell asleep.

-

Steve and Robin became friends very quickly. They always worked well together.

Especially after she admitted that she liked girls. And that she preferred Dustin over him. Because duh. Any friend of Steve’s had to prefer Dustin over him. Dust was so fun- it wouldn't be right otherwise.

She also preferred Joyce, which was also a given. Joyce was just like that. She took people in like they were her own and treated them with nothing but respect and kindness and love, no matter what. Her compassion for others was extraordinary, and her resilience was inspiring. It was hard not to love Joyce more than anybody, really.

"I'm your friend for Mama Joyce perks," Robin said once, while they were having the lunch Joyce sent specifically to Family Video.

"It's fine," he replied, shrugging. "I'd prefer Joyce, too."

Robin always came to his house now after she found out he was always alone. He had a feeling it was also for Joyce perks, but she stayed even if Joyce didn’t visit or send any food. Sometimes, Dustin would come along to use Steve’s Atari, but he had a dentist appointment today and so they were all alone.

Tell her, he thought, not for the first time that day. She doesn't care. Just tell her so it's out of the way.

"Hey Robin?" Steve called. His voice cracked a little.

"What?" She replied, her eyes not leaving the book she was reading. Surprisingly, that made him slightly calmer.

He blurted it before he could help it. "I'm not straight."

"Oh, I know."

"What?"

Robin finally looked up, making eye contact with him. "I'm pretty sure you're bisexual. Pretty sure. But I’m not sure if you’ve got heart eyes for anyone right now. I'm still trying to figure it out."

Steve blanked . "Uh- well, there’s-"

"Nope. Don't tell me. I want to figure it out."

"Oh. Uh, okay." Steve went back to toying with his hoodie-strings, still trying to process what just happened.

"And dingus?" Robin said. "I think it's cool, that you trusted me with that. Thanks."

A smile made its way onto Steve’s face, but he didn't reply.

Later that week, he was rereading the note Billy left (instead of money) in the tip jar for the sixth time when Robin came up to him. Her arms were crossed and she had a determined look in her eye. When she finally reached him, she kept her voice low enough so that only he could hear what she was going to say.

"So. The heart eyes? For Billy?"

He laughed, nodding.

She smirked. "Got ya."

-

After Billy was discharged from the hospital, Hopper and Joyce kept a close eye on him. 

There were 'workout days’ every Friday to make sure Billy only worked out then and didn’t overwork himself. Weekend trips to random places whenever Hopper felt spontaneous or felt like taking him along on one of his PD meeting. Sleepovers with El and Max. Movie nights with Joyce or Jonathan or Steve or all three. Billy’s relationship with them turned into something less formal and more... relaxed. Casual. 

Familial, a part of Billy’s brain bugged, but he ignored it. 

Hopper also became a lot more affectionate, which was unusual in itself.

Joyce once told him that after Sarah, he could only stand the slightest hug sometimes. And even now, after so long, he could only stand so much physical contact.

But with Billy, it seemed like he didn't even mind. He’d untangle the curls in Billy’s hair, hug him out of nowhere, and he even pulls Billy’s head into his lap randomly. They got close, especially after almost a year of living with each other. A year of Hopper being his dad, Billy’s brain bugged again.

Familial, Billy’s brain teased. Parental. 

But no. That wasn't right. Billy hadn't even come out to him or Joyce yet. Which was saying something, because he was out to basically everyone close to him. Will, Jonathan, Robin, Steve, Max, El, even the Wheeler boy knew. And it's not like Billy didn't want to come out to them. He did.

In fact, Joyce was probably one of the only people that didn't assume he was straight all the time. When she teased Billy, it was never, Who is she? Is she cute? 

It was always they. 

Who are they? Are they cute? 

If you don't introduce me to that special person of yours I'm gonna find them for myself. 

They've got you wrapped around their finger, huh?

It didn’t matter that it was painfully obvious that Steve was the special person. (Either Hopper and Joyce were really oblivious, or they just wanted Billy to tell them himself).

But Billy actually appreciated it. Especially when Hopper teased him because it always gave him a leeway to come out. Come to think of it, Billy still didn't know why he hadn't come out yet. There were many opportunities.

Maybe it's because they’ve known him for a while now, and he's pushed himself farther into the closet every time he didn't come out and now it feels too late. Which sounded dumb. Billy had a hunch that Joyce and Hop definitely already knew. 

"Kid?" Hopper said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "You with me?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Right here." Billy tried to smile, but it came out a bit forced. 

Hopper turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "You sure? Anything happen at work?"

Billy shrugged, turning away from his piercing gaze and sitting himself next to Joyce on the table. "Not really. I got a really bad sunburn on my shoulders though."

Just tell them. 

"My boss was being a dick, but that's not unusual."

Joyce shook her head at the word choice.

Just tell them. Spill it out. 

"Also. I'm gay," he blurted, then covered his mouth with his hand. 

Not like that!

"I-I didn't mean that," Billy said through his fingers. 

Hopper’s smile turned impossibly soft. Billy only ever saw that smile before when El got all her multiplication tables down.

Joyce dragged her chair closer to Billy, then carefully started peeling Billy’s hand away from his mouth. When she was done, she stayed silent for a moment, contemplating, before she seemed to make a decision to run her hands through Billy’s curls. "You did mean that, honey."

Billy leaned into her touch. "You know?" he asked.

"I know."

"How long?"

"A while. Probably longer than you think." Hopper spoke up as Joyce tugged at a knot until it came undone.

Hopper dragged his chair closer too, putting his hands in Billy’s wet and tangled hair as well. "Do you mind?"

"No," Billy replied. 

"Good."

They stayed like that for a while in companionable silence, save the occasional huff every time Hopper undid a particularly hefty curl or scraped his nails on his head. 

Familial, Billy thought, not unkindly. 

"Uh- Joyce?" 

"Yeah?"

"Thanks." He looked back at Hopper, “You too.”

Hopper rolled his eyes. "You don't have to thank us," he said, "for treating you with some common decency."

"No, I mean- Joyce never assumed I was straight."

Joyce paused. "Yeah. Why would I?"

Billy didn't have an answer to that, because she was right. Why would she assume I was straight?

"Do you wanna finish the paint job for your car today?" Hopper asked, breaking the silence. 

"Hell yeah."

Familial. 

-

Steve’s attempt at a proposal was...interesting. To say the least.

"Billy’s here!" Max yelled from across the living room when he entered. Billy gave Max a look. "I know I'm here, Shitbird. You don't have to announce it, you know."

Max rolled her eyes. Hopper huffed from the couch, "No, she wasn't talking to you, you little shit- Steve! Billy’s here!"

"Okay, okay. Jesus! I get it!" Steve’s voice shouted back, startling Billy. He turned to where the voice came from and did a double take when Steve’s face was right up in his space.

“Hi.”

His hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. His brown eyes were manic with glee. Billy silently judged his boyfriend’s smart shirt and jeans. He would have loudly judged his atrocious tie. But he was really cute. So.

“Steve,” Billy smiled, “Not that I don’t want you to be here, but why are you here?”

“Max, Joyce, and Hopper.” Steve shrugged like that was the most detailed explanation. “Apparently I needed to get their permission to marry you.”

Billy paused at the word marry. He squinted over at Steve, as he searched his face for something, not quite sure what it was that he was actually looking for. “Are you... what?”

“I said it was fine!” Max put her hands up in defense. 

“Okay. Whatever,” Steve whispered to her, in an attempt to psych himself up and give Max a cue to stop talking.

"Billy Hargrove," Steve said, all serious and solemn.

Billy’s knees went weak and he wanted to run the fuck away when Steve kneeled in front of him.

His heart thudded.

"Do you watch Scooby Doo?"

Billy spluttered. "Uh- wait what-"

"Kid, you broke him," Hopper groaned at Steve’s attempt at humour.

"Uh, yeah-yeah, I watch it, sometimes," Billy said, recovering. 

"That is so gay, baby!" Steve exclaimed suddenly, getting up from the floor and pumping his fist into the air like he just won the lottery.

"Uh-"

"You’re my boy," Steve continued, pulling Billy in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Sorry. I’m so excited. I just love you." He looked at Billy, smiling wildly. "Hi, so. Yes or no?"

"What question am I exactly answering, Stevie?" 

“Oh!” Steve said, eyes widening, pointing in between the two of them as if it would elaborate. “Sorry. I just said- I want you to marry me.”

Billy nodded, trying to play things cool. "That sounds like a demand. Not a question."

Max sighed, "Are you being serious right now?"

Billy smiled cheekily and nodded again.

Steve nervously played with his hands. “Billy, it’s a question. Just say yes or no. Well I’d prefer yes because I already bought a ring- but I don’t know what you want so- ”

“What do you think?” Billy sassed, like he was angry, “I love you, asshole.”

“I love your asshole.” Steve spit back in the same tone.

“Oh god, sorry,” he apologized, looking back at Hopper and Joyce, like please don’t let this change your mind. “I just- uh. I say weird things when I’m nervous or excited.”

Hopper looked between the two boys and sighed, “you guys are really made for each other.”

"They are,” Max whispered to him, “It’s so clear. Steve can’t sit properly in a chair. And Billy’s a chaotic gay- he can’t drive proper.”

"Oh my god. You really cant," Steve said, laughing. Billy smiled back, all teeth and manic glee. 

"Oh, okay then. I see how it is. I’ll just have you know, Harrington, that I don't marry boys who can’t sit properly in chairs," Billy shrugged. "Sorry."

"No problem, bro. I don't marry guys who can't drive because I can't either."

Billy didn’t wait any longer before he pulled Steve in for a kiss. His hands, gently in Steve’s hair, and Steve’s upon his chest. Max grimaced at the sight of them kissing. Hopper looked like he was about to die.

“Wait- so, Billy. Honey, is that a yes or no?” Joyce asked, confused.

-

Yeah. They kissed all the way back to Billy’s car in the driveway. Yeah. They made out in the backseat for a while before forcibly separating themselves so Steve can speak up.

He knows they can’t legally get married- at least not yet. But the idea of spending his life with Billy makes his heart flip. The idea that he can call Billy his husband.

Billy felt Steve smile against his skin. “You know? I always..um. Dreamt of falling in love, and, like, getting married, believe it or not.”

He heard Billy snort but continued, “A suburban life, if you will.”

“Three bedroom house, maybe. Big yard for barbecues in the summer. Oh, we gotta have a hammock in our yard.” Steve listed. “You.”

Billy started laughing, “Buy me a house with a big yard then I’ll consider building ya a hammock. It’s only fair.”

Steve lightly punched his arm, laughing as well. Billy punched Steve’s arm back.

“Oh, Stevie,” Billy dramatically squeaked, putting a hand over his heart, “We get to be together forever!” He threw his hands in a wide circle to illustrate his version of forever.

He mocked it, but it was a thrilling thought. Being together forever.

Steve pouted. “Fuck you. I’m telling you my suburban dream and you’re mocking me.”

“What? You jerk!” Billy suddenly jumped up, giggling like a 7-year-old. “So your suburban dream is that you want me to be your kept househusband, taking care of the kids, and cooking dinner for my man when he comes home from work? And barbecue parties in the summer? Grocery shopping on the weekends as well?” Billy teased.

“Oh, wow,” Steve wiggled his brows, “kids too, Billy? Sounds like you’ve already got a plan.”

Fuck.

Billy lowered his forehead to Steve’s shoulder, hiding his burning face, “I was just saying. But only if you want.”

“I want it all, weirdo.” Steve smiled so wide his skin crinkled near his eyes, and Billy fell in love all over again.

-

Sometimes, when he was lying awake in bed, Billy’s head on his chest, Steve rolled the word around his tongue. Bisexual.

Huh. 

It really did fit.

And Billy would look at Steve, hair all disheveled from sleep, and face still indented from the pillow and think.

I don’t have to pretend. I’m gay - and that’s just fine. It’s not bad.

-

#this is my first pride month so !!!!! #also! you don’t have to label urself!!!! if that’s what makes u comfortable #harringrove #me posting #fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tw f slur #tw death #let’s hope i don’t delete this bc it’s . personal #i’m gay and it’s not bad even tho i sometimes feel like it is

[elliewritessometimes]

hi! i have Returned™ with a prompt from the lovely @notsomightymightytiger that has been sat in my inbox for well over two months oops im sorry-

the prompts relate to a hospital au and a sick/injury fic and i hope this is okay!!! love you kiera <3

tw: hospitals, injury, sickness it's all fairly minor though there's nothing at all graphic but do be careful take care lovelies

-

Eva Sanchez, in all her eleven year old glory, was more than used to hospitals. Sometimes, old people (in her mind, anyone over the age of 27) would be "so awfully sad" over the weeks she'd spent in a ward. But, to Eva, it was kind of normal. It wasn't exactly fun, but it was her life and she was fine with it.

Tonight, she couldn't sleep.

Earlier, this kid probably about Eva's age had come in, all bruised circles under eyes and rude words towards the nurses. Eva had listened over the gentle chatter of her own grandmother as the dark-haired girl had spoken in a voice filled with hurt to a tall couple who must have been her parents. If she strained her ears over the buzzing of a children's ward, she could hear the angry whispers between the adults and child, before this sour-mouthed, lonely patient had been left alone overnight, refusing comfort from Eva's favourite nurses. Eva felt like she should have been repulsed by this outwardly spiteful girl, but instead she was only curious, sneaking glances at her between curtains as though her eyes were magnetised to theirs.

She was pretty.

Eva liked their eyes.

For once, the ward was quiet. Eva's mother slept in a tiny put-up bed beside hers and once again her drowsy but not yet sleepy mind was focused on the angry patient from earlier. She wondered if their parents had come back or if she was still alone across the room.

Maybe she was a little delirious, or still suffering the after effects of her earlier treatment, but Eva found herself desperately struggling out from bed, pulling a blanket down with her and shuffling as quietly as possible across the ward to the other girl's bed. It was naughty and against all the rules, but Eva knew that if she wanted to sleep tonight, she had to know that the kid was okay.

She slipped past the curtain, trying to be as quiet as possible. Obviously, that didn't work.

"Hello."

Eva jumped, spinning around to see as her target leant up in bed, a hand steadying her head. "Hi, sorry, I- I just wanted to check- I mean, I don't even know you, but- I thought-"

She stopped rambling, taking a breath before beginning again. "I'm Eva."

"Kate." The girl - Kate - raised her eyebrows. "Who are you?"

"I'm on the ward too. I saw you arrive." Eva's feet were getting cold.

"Oh. You were watching me," said Kate, filterless.

"Yeah, your parents seemed kinda mad," Eva replied, also filterless. "I came over 'cause I was a bit worried."

"I'm fine."

Eva's heart dropped. She'd expected to feel a little more wanted. With a sigh, she turned to go back to bed. "Oh. Okay, then. Bye."

She tiptoed away, just closing Kate's curtain again when - "Wait! Eva, no, come back!" Kate's voice was a hushed shout. Eva spun around, narrowing her eyes until they continued. "I didn't mean go."

"Oh." Eva paused at the curtain, narrowing her eyes. Her head span a little, maybe from illness, maybe from the sudden change in attitude from Kate. "Okay."

"Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

Kate only nodded.

Still leaning a little on the curtain, Eva decided to change the subject, "Why were your parents so mean?"

Kate shrugged. "They got mad because I got a concussion. Apparently, it's my fault that this girl at gymnastics made me jump so I slipped and bashed my head in." They rubbed their head where they'd hit it, wincing a little before shaking it off to continue. "My brother says our parents just suck anyway. And he should know 'cause he's sixteen."

Eva nodded sagely; sixteen was almost an adult. She thought that she would know everything there was to know when she was sixteen.

"Anyway," Kate continued speaking. Apparently she was chatty once you got her going. Eva liked this about them - it was nice to not have to be the one doing all the talking. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sick." Eva didn't expand on it, overtaken with tiredness suddenly. "I'm here a lot."

Kate squinted suspiciously at her. "Oh. Fair enough." The squinting increased, enough so Eva could see the wheels turning in their head. Eva almost turned and left to prevent the inevitable questioning. Shockingly, it didn't come. Instead, Kate got slowly out of bed, padding across the floor to put a hand at Eva's elbow. "You're shaking."

Eva's brain short-circuited over Kate's acceptance and lack of inquiry. She opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again and taking a breath. She was, in fact, shivering. "You know when you've been awake for so long that every time you yawn, you start shaking?" She waited for Kate to nod. "That's me right now."

Kate smiled, slipping their hand into hers. "Come on." Together, they slowly made their way over to Kate's bed, slipping under the covers.

Eva yawned, prompting another roll of shivers, subconsciously tightening her grasp on Kate's hand as she did so. Trying not to put too much pressure on her sore head, Kate tilted their head towards the other girl. "This is weird."

"Yeah." Happily content that her worries from earlier were unfounded, Eva really wanted to go to sleep now. She fought to keep her eyes open, grinning when Kate giggled.

"You're so tired!" Kate obviously wasn't.

"Mhm."

"Don't go to sleep yet. You can't come over here, wake me up, get in my bed, and then go straight to sleep." She could hear them pout. "That's unfair." Eva hummed a vague response. "I'm gonna be here for all of tomorrow according to the doctor and you're here all the time, so tell me something that'll make it better."

Eva blinked open one eye. "Okay. Sure." She thought for a while. "I have these tiger toys called Giles and Corey. My tía got them for me when I first got sick to remind me to eat and drink enough." Closing her eye again, she gestured in the direction of her bed. "The ginger one is Giles, he reminds me to drink water in case I forget. The other one, the black one, is Corey-" She was cut off by a yawn.

Kate grinned sleepily. "That's so cool. I think you're cool."

"Thanks." Eva shoved her face deeper into the pillow to hide her smile. "You're cool too."

"What does Corey do?" Despite their head injury and earlier angry demeanor, Kate was surprisingly animated over these two cuddly toys. "Oooh! Does he have superpowers??? Can they fly?"

Eva laughed, "No... Corey just reminds me to eat my meals."

"Wow." Eva's yawn caught up to Kate. "You gotta show me them tomorrow." She closed her eyes along with Eva, still holding her hand under the duvet. "My parents are gonna see that I can have a concussion and still be fabulous."

"Hell yeah, you can." Shivering still, Eva shuffled closer. "We're gonna be the most fabulous friends ever."

#!!! #this has taken so so long to write im so glad its done i hope its okay #we are the tigers #kate dalton #eva sanchez #kateva #hospital tw #injury tw #illness tw #sickness tw #kiera (yay for gay)