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wonderfilworld · 3 years

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Sunlight - J.P.

James Potter x reader’s morning routine. it’s really just soft morning sex, lol.

a/n: this is my first time writing smut!

word count: 1.9k

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut, unprotected sex, cursing. like I said it’s my first time writing smut so if I missed anything please let me know!

Masterlist

you woke due to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window. the room was silent, save for the snores of the sleeping body next to you. it was pleasantly warm, the newly arrived spring season prompting you to leave your window cracked open. you could hear birds in the distance and the wind that rustled the leaves outside. you lay for a while on your right side, arm under your head as you listened to the world around you with your eyes closed. you planned out your day, what you and your love would do on your day off.

feeling a hand spread across your back, you smile and roll over on your left side. you get as close to your boyfriend as humanly possible, one leg thrown over his hip and resting your right hand on his chest. james’ right arm goes under you, left arm on top as he hugs you. you bury your head in the crook of his neck as you take a deep breath. he smells like sweat and his faint woody cologne and a smell that is just so him and you smile as you speak, “good morning.”

his arms grip you even tighter, his left hand coming to stroke the hair out of your face. “morning, baby,” he says quietly, placing a kiss on your forehead. he keeps his lips there, pressed loosely against your head as he mimics your deep breath from earlier. his left hand travels down your right arm to your elbow, then back up to cup your cheek. you know what he wants - you always do - and you pick your head up to place your lips on his.

he sighs into the kiss, and you tilt your head to deepen it. james always gets like this in the mornings: clingy and loving, never wanting to take his hands off you, and you love every minute of it. his hand is now on your waist, squeezing tightly and you listen to his silent command, climbing to lay fully on top of him. you’re both bare, so you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your lower stomach as you lean up to set him directly under your core, already slick just from kissing. sometimes it’s embarrassing how fast he can make you needy, your core throbbing as you await his touch. you roll your hips as his tongue makes its way into your mouth to meet yours. you both moan lightly into each others mouth as your hips roll deeper, harder, into his.

it’s always slow in the mornings between the two of you; neither of you are morning people so you take it slow. your usual screams and loud moans are just soft ones and whimpers at this hour, sleep still lingering in your systems. your hips quicken ever so slightly as his hand travel from your hips to your thighs, then back up to rest on your ass, kneading the flesh there, urging you to go faster, go harder, against him. his head rolls back on the pillow as he lets out a low groan and you drag your lips along his jaw, then down his neck, getting to the spot right behind his right ear and sucking there. his left hand comes to hold the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as you kiss the sensitive parts of his neck, letting your teeth graze there lightly. you know he loves to see the marks you leave on him, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t love leaving them. he sucks in a sharp breath as you bring your lips back to his.

“baby,” he stresses. your hips haven’t stopped moving against his, and you know that if you wanted you could finish you both off like this. but you want more - need more, so you bring your lips down harder against his as his right hand travels between the two of you. his fingers make contact with your pussy that’s already made such a pretty mess on his cock and it has him twitching in anticipation as he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping into you ever-so-slightly to gather the wetness there and bring it up to your clit. you jump slightly, always so sensitive for him - something he never lets you forget. you whimper and he shushes you. “you like that?” he asks. he knows the answer but loves to make you talk, loves to hear how your voice gets higher due to how good he makes you feel.

“gonna let me fuck you?” he whispers against your lips, breath tickling your face.

“yes,” you whine, hips oscillating in tiny circles, loving the way his fingertips against your clit create a trail of fire that travels up the base of your spine. you couldn’t keep your eyes open, and you know he hates when you shy away from him, but the pleasure was overwhelming, and it was getting difficult to hold yourself up. mewls leave your throat in time with the tight circles james is drawing against your bundle of nerves.

“I got you, baby, gonna make you feel so good,” he pants, his free hand reaching down to give himself a couple of quick strokes so he can line himself up to your entrance. you take initiative, leaning back and lifting yourself even more so you can sink back down on his cock. you have to go slow, resting both of your hands on his chest while his stroke your sides. he’s patient and you love him for it.

you whimper as he fills you, you feel so full and it makes you warm and makes your toes curl. you clench around him as you get used to him and he moans quietly. he never wants to start until you tell him you’re ready but his hips thrust up involuntarily, and it knocks the breath out of your lungs. you collapse against his chest and bring your hands to his hair as you attack his lips again. he says something but it’s mumbled against your lips. it sounds like an apology, but you don’t reply, instead opting to tentatively roll your hips, feeling the way his cock nudges the deepest parts of you. it’s insane when you think about it sometimes, how it feels like he’s in your tummy. you groan loudly as your clit rubs against his body. the burning sensation in your spine is back now, you’re fully adjusted to his size, so you pick up the pace, grinding against him. he knows this feels best for you, knows you need the extra stimulation so he aids you, grabbing your hips and pulling and pushing you against him, watching your face as you lean up to once again place your hands on his chest.

“that’s it, baby, just like that, fuck,” he’s breathing heavily and the low, raspy tone of his voice causes your stomach to flip and your walls to tighten around his cock. “use me, baby,” he groans.

you let out a loud moan at that, head dropping back on your shoulders as you feel him touch a particularly deep spot inside of you. “feels so good,” you sob. it amazes you that you can even form words, there’s a distracting pull in your lower tummy and you know it won’t be much longer until it snaps. but you know james needs a little more, that extra push to get him there too, so you brace your body on your hands and push yourself up, lifting halfway off his cock before coming back down, relishing in the loud fuck! he lets out. the power you have over him in this moment is intoxicating, and so you do it again and again, until you have a pretty rhythm bouncing on top of him. you know you can’t keep this pace for long and so does he, but he appreciates your commitment to making him feel good. both of his hands come to grab your tits, squeezing the mounds of flesh and running his thumbs over your nipples. the act brings a line of fire straight to your core, where the burning flame has gotten much stronger. you can feel it in your toes, they’re hot and cold at the same time and they curl on their own accord.

“james,” you whine. he knows what you’re asking for so he abandons your tits as his hands return to your hips, holding you up so he can take over thrusting into you. you fall forward with a loud cry, burying you face in his neck as your moans get louder. “please, please, please,” you beg, mind foggy as you can feel the fire licking against your spine. you know you’re close; you just need that one extra push.

“close, baby?” james grunts. he can barely formulate a full sentence either and he’s so close to his release he can taste it. “gonna cum all over my cock, huh?”

you sob even louder as his thrusts go harder, deeper, faster into you. you know he won’t give you what you want until you use your words, so you pick your head up to slot your mouth over his. you only manage a few seconds of sloppy kisses until you’re just panting into each others mouths. “yes,” you answer him, gasping as one of his hands leave your hips to rub tight circles against your clit once again. “yes, yes, yes,” you cry. “i’m gonna cum.”

“shit - baby.” james chokes, his hips stutter and his fingers go incredibly faster against your sensitive bud. he can feel you clenching around him, so tight, and he won’t last much longer. “come on, baby, let me feel you,” he whispers against your lips.

your moans die out into small gasps as the pull in your tummy snaps and the fire explodes. your mind goes blank and you moan loudly against james’ lips. “fuck,” you’re crying now, tears slipping past your waterline and dripping onto james’ face, your orgasm so intense that you barely recognize james’ plea’s. “can i cum inside you, baby? i’m so fucking close - shit.” of course it’s okay, it’s always okay with you but you appreciate that he always asks, makes you feel important and valued.

“please cum inside me, want it so bad,” you whimper, your head resuming it’s position in the crook of his neck, your own orgasm still racking through your body.

james lets out a load groan as his hips stutter once more before dragging your body down against his, keeping you there as he fills you up. his cum is hot inside you and you can feel it begin to slowly leak out as james gives a few weak thrusts in and out of your tired body.

you’re both breathing heavy, sweat is covering your bodies, and you feel so content. his hands are stroking your back now; you’re still shaking slightly and he knows you like to keep him inside as long as possible. he gives you a couple kisses to your temple before you bring your head up to kiss him properly. you lift yourself off of him, wincing as his cock falls from you.

“bath?” he asks. you collapse beside him, smiling up at him as he sits up on the bed and looks at you.

“bath,” you agree, watching as he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. you hear him turn on the water and you close your eyes once more.

“get your pretty ass in here!” he yells, and you softly giggle before getting up and joining your lover.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 3

Hello, and once again, welcome to the exciting world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

Eda easily slipped through the crowd, one of the benefits of being a skilled pickpocket, scanning the faces around her. Her eyes brightened when she finally spotted the girl she was looking for. “Luz!” She called out, signalling the girl over. As Luz spotted Eda in turn, she grinned, sauntering over.

“Hey Eda! How’d your conversation go?” Luz asked casually, hands tucked in her pockets.

Eda gave a confident smirk, expertly holding in the awkwardness she knew was trying to peek through. “Eh, as well as it was gonna go. Still, I think me and Gwen are gonna be fine.” She replied, giving an easy shrug. Things between her and her mother may still be rough, but they now had a starting point to build something healthy. Together.

Luz gave a wistful smile. “Man, that must be nice.” She said, an almost dreamy look to her face, much to Eda’s confusion. Shaking her head, Luz cleared her thoughts. “Anyway, I got to ask something.”

“Fire away.” Eda prompted.

Luz smirked, laughing lightly. “I overheard some kids talking, do you know what this whole Moonlight Conjuring thing is?” She asked, slightly cocking her head.

“Moonlight Conjuring? Pfft! It’s some baby magic ceremony where kids hold hands and try to use the power of the moon to bring something to life.” Eda said dismissively. She had honestly forgotten that it was around that time of year for it. Ugh. She raised an eyebrow at the look of shock Luz had. “What’s with the look?”

“Are you saying that parents WILLINGLY let their kids attempt a Lunar Ritual!? Annually!?” She demanded, a wild look in her eyes.

Eda reeled back at the intensity. “Whoa, kid! You’re gonna have to explain a little. What’s the big deal, the ritual never works!” She should know, all those times she and… anway, all those times she’d tried to do it as a kid, and it never worked, not even once!

“I can think of a few reasons why if my hunch is right.” Luz dryly stated, though Eda was mostly certain that wasn’t a jab at her. This time at least. Luz grew serious. “Eda, this is big stuff. Lunar Rituals, even minor ones, are insanely powerful, and can cause all kinds of chaos!” She huffed. “Man, this job just got tougher.”

That instantly caught Eda’s attention. “What job?” She asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. If this was a trap…

Luz snorted. “That Blight girl from the Covention is holding a Conjuring for her and some of her friends, and asked me to run Bodyguard duty so that they feel safe.” She shrugged. “I mean, usually I’m the one getting PAST bodyguards, not acting as one, but it seemed like something to do, you know?”

Eda paused, mulling it over. She knew the Blights, the parents that is, and she didn’t trust either of them, not really. Al was deceptively absent-minded, but was brilliant when it came to playing the game and getting the best results for him and his, whereas Dolly was… an experience in patience testing, even by Eda’s lofty standards of weaponized annoyance. Still, if it came from the kid, it probably wasn’t a trap. “Eh, I got no problem with it.” She finally said. “Just keep your eyes peeled around her parents. Al and Dolly aren’t the kind of people you should trust. Like, at all.” She finished, voice growing grave.

Luz lightly bit her lip, softly kicking at the ground. “Yeah, I understand.” She was intimately familiar with adults of those types. Eyes brightening, she added, “But hey, it’s still a party, right? I bet I can sneak out some snacks for you, King and Hooty after I’m done!” She winked, a cheeky grin on her face. Eda laughed at that. Chuckling, the two made their way home, Eda chugging the potion before she forgot about it again. When they got back, they encountered the honestly hilarious sight of King tied up to a pole over a pile of leaves, Hooty reading off a list of charges before a court of stuffed animals. After they finished laughing, and King stopped screaming in embarrassment, the group went inside, gathering supplies.

“I don’t care what you say, I AM GOING WITH YOU TO THE NIGHT MARKET!!” King shouted, stomping his foot. It almost looked bratty, were it not for the fact he was also stuffing supplies into a fanny pack from Eda’s junk piles. For all his attitude, he was serious about going with her.

“Ugh! Fine, fine! Just settle down already!” Eda groaned, relenting to his (annoying) insistence. She looked sideways at Luz’s chuckle. “Oh, like you’d be able to stand up to him when he’s like this, either!” She retorted.

Luz snorted. “Aw heck no! I am well aware when to fold’em, but that’s not gonna stop me from finding this hilarious!” She laughed, her stuff packed and ready for the trip. She calmed down, focusing. “But for real, this should be a good way to relax, you know?” She said, a soft smile on her face, one that Kind and Eda returned. A sharp knocking sounded at the door. “Coming!” Luz called out. As she walked up to the door, she was unsurprised to see Willow and Gus standing before her, wearing a mix of formal and casual clothing. What did surprise her, however, was their expressions. Willow had a look of stoic control, as if she was about to do something she really didn’t want to, but was resigned to it. Gus seemed to be oscillating between barely contained panic, and unfettered excitement.

“Uuuhh… you guys okay?” Luz hesitantly asked. She knew that they didn’t have the best history with Blight, but wasn’t this reaction a little much?

“Who, us!? Yeah! Totally fine! Definitely not panicking over going to the most popular girl in school’s Conjuring after she sent us a message over Penstagram and are totally freaking out over the idea of it being a horrible, awful, evil prank to humiliate and degrade us!! Nope, we are totally fine!” Gus rambled, eyes flicking around the area, visibly sweating. Luz cocked an eyebrow.

“Let’s just get this over with, can we?” Willow stoically stated, already moving to leave, and motioning for them to follow. Gus quickly followed suit. With a shrug, Luz gave one last wave goodbye to Eda and King, and followed them.

“The guard I acquired to supervise the safety of myself and my guests for the conjuring, along with the first of my guests, will be arriving shortly.” Amity informed her parents. Alador was still working on his latest Abomination experiment, almost obsessed with it ever since he had examined Willow’s from the incident as Amity thought of it. Her mother, Odalia, was frantically pacing, sipping at a cup of tea to try and settle her nerves. Amity admittedly derived some level of almost sadistic enjoyment from her mother’s current discomfort. For reasons unknown, Odalia had been in something of a tizzy all day, her normal paranoia kicked up a few notches.

“I don’t like it!” Odalia announced, stopping in front of Amity. “This entire venture is far too risky, with too little benefit! While a boost to public morale and that of the social links you’ve formed would most definitely be beneficial, we have no idea if those Oroboros Cravens would attempt to attack us! We ARE the Boiling Isles premiere source of Home Security equipment, after all!” She turned to Alador. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“I believe so.” Alador added his absent-minded consideration to the conversation. “If I recall correctly, the guests should all be currently in transit, and if Amity’s preparations are accurate, our first two guests and her mysterious guard should be arriving at any moment.” He concluded, never once glancing up from the Abomination before him, his arms buried deep in its inner workings.

“Curses!” Odalia bit out, glancing at the clock in frustration. Ultimately, she sighed. “Ugh, very well, I suppose this nonsensical event can continue.” Amity tacitly held her tongue on the fact that Odalia was the one who regularly encouraged her to hold them at all.

“Thank you, mother.” Amity said diplomatically. The doorbell screamed, signalling someone’s arrival. “I believe that would be my guard and two of the guests. Would you like to accompany me in greeting them?” She asked, internally begging for her mother not to, to make up some bull excuse about it being beneath her, that she had work to do, anything!

“Hmm, very well, I suppose.” Odalia replied, dashing Amity’s hopes. As the two walked toward the door, she once again internally begged, pleaded, for her mother not to make a scene, to just accept Amity’s decisions. Surprisingly, her hopes were answered! ...Though, the reason was in itself rather chilling.

Outside the door stood three figures, Willow, Augustus, and Luz, all ready for the night to begin. Seeing who was at the door, Amity expected a few different reactions from her mother: Shouting, summoning Abominations, derogatory remarks, and a few others. What she got was, in itself, surprising. A wide, intimately familiar smile appeared across Odalia’s face, the look she got when she made a highly advantageous deal. “Welcome, honored guests!” Odalia cried, ushering the bewildered group inside. “It is my pleasure, as Matriarch of the Blight Family, to welcome you to our humble home for my darling daughter’s Moonlight Conjuring!” Humble, right. Amity felt like scoffing at her mother’s hammy antics, but held her tongue, both to maintain her image, and to see why her mother was reacting as anticipated.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to be here, Miss Blight.” Luz cordially stated, a neutral look on her face.

“Oh, call me Odalia dear! You played quite the role in protecting my darling Mittens from harm!” She all but gushed, ruffling Amity’s hair, much to her frustration. She could see the three silently mouthing her nickname. Oh no. Odalia’s eyes sharpened, focusing on Luz’s face. “Judging by your presence here, I believe it’s safe to assume you are the guard my daughter acquired, is it not?”

“Uh, yeah.” Luz nodded, a little baffled at Odalia’s antics at the moment. “Pardon my confusion, but you are taking me being here a lot better than I expected.”

“Hmm? Oh, you mean about your association with those ruffians, don’t you?” Odalia rhetorically stated, chuckling lightly. “My dear, you swore an Unbreakable Vow on a live broadcast, someone would have to be a fool to find you suspect after that, you even pledged to fight against Oroboros while under it for Titan’s sake! No, you being here eliminates most of my worries about how this night will turn out.” She said, a pleased look on her face.

“Oh! Well, thank you, ma’am.” Luz said, a faint blush on her face at the praise. Amity resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. While that was certainly a revelation as to her mother’s motives, in part, it still didn’t answer the biggest question as to why she hasn’t blown her top.

“And who might you be?” Odalia cordially stated, turning to Augustus.

“OH, uh, Augustus Porter, Miss Odalia Blight, Ma’am!! I’m in the same year as your daughter, in the Illusion Track at Hexside!” He quickly stated, standing stock still in nervousness. Amity almost face-palmed at his antics. “Most people call me Gus.” He rapidly added.

“Hmm, Gus Porter, son of Perry Porter, conductor of the interview and one of the Boiling Isles most acclaimed reporters, holding a great deal of public sway due to his accuracy, honesty, and minimal bias in his field.” Odalia rattled off, as if by memory. Amity assumed it was, as her mother did enjoy memorizing details of people with influence, even if only peripherally, like Mr. Porter. “Going by your age, I find it intriguing that you’re in the same year as my daughter. Did you skip a grade?” She mused.

“Uh, two actually.” Gus said, bashfully rubbing his shoulder.

“Well, well, well! Aren’t you the accomplished little intellectual!” She said enthusiastically. “My boy, if you ever desire, I believe I could find you quite a lucrative position at Blight Industries upon your graduation.” She said, pulling out one of her business cards, handing it to the now star-struck boy.

“Oh, wow! Uh, thank you?” He said, both excited and confused at the offer, tucking the card into his pocket.

“Oh, think nothing of it.” Odalia dismissed, turning to Willow, an assessing look in her eyes. “And you?”

“Willow Park, ma’am.” Willow said, her face a careful mask of iron-clad politeness.

“Willow Park, recent transfer to Hexside’s Plant Track, considered their rising star, and possessing a level of power and skill typically found only in adults.” Odalia once again rattled off, a calculating look in her eyes. “Miss Park, I daresay I owe you an apology for my daughter’s conduct.” Amity and Willow both went very still at that, certain theories sliding into place in both their minds.

“While I am unaware as to why, exactly, my daughter felt the need to distract herself with something as gauche as bullying of all things, I am pleased to inform you that she was appropriately reprimanded for her conduct.” Odalia continued, blissfully unaware of the thoughts raging through the minds of the two involved. “If you ever feel the need for further discussion on this topic, or if my daughter slips back into such… unsavory habits, feel free to contact me. But for the moment, I must bid the three of you farewell.” And with that, she turned on her heel, swiftly making her way back to her husband, hoping he was either finished… or hadn’t killed himself.

Amity felt sick. Her mind could only find one simple conclusion as to why, exactly, that had occurred, and by the look of mixed disgust and near-volcanic rage on Willow’s face, she had reached it as well. “She didn’t even remember me.” Willow breathed out, burning heat coloring her voice. “She didn’t even know who I was!”

Unbeknownst to the group, a figure was watching from the shadows outside, a group arrayed protectively around her. “I never expected to see you here, LuLu.” A childish voice giggled, a small pointed object glinting in their hands.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king the owl house #hooty the owl house #odalia blight #alador blight #amity blight #willow park #gus porter #magic

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justimajin · 4 years

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It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 5

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 3.1k (short chapter but it still has its own craziness)

⇝ Summary: The goal has never been in your favor, and despite all your best efforts, you don’t think it ever will be. But that’s right when you finally get the chance to turn things around, to do things the way you’ve always wanted to and to go after what you truly love. However the problem isn’t if you can do it, it’s how much are you willing to do…?

⇝ Warnings: pg13 (please check out the disclaimer on the first part); none

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, April 14

A shiver passes through you when the cool breeze nips at your skin, locks of tangled wet hair still sticking to your neck. Using your two hands, you attempt to collect as much water as you can when you wring it out, a pool forming near your bare feet.

With a sigh, the mop of hair still sits against your neck, damp and heavy. You take a peek beyond the curtains, noticing with relief that your clothes were sitting outside – staying entirely dry. Leaning down, you begin to rummage through them until you reach the bottom, not finding the familiar bottle of soap that can take the unpleasant grime away from your soaking hair.

Glancing around, your eyes catch onto the sight of a soap dispenser and you freeze – quickly shuffling back behind the curtains. There’s a loose towel covering your form and no one in plain sight, so you take into consideration that you have two choices.

You could simply go home with unwashed hair and silently pray that Taehyung’s actually out of the bathroom by the time you return (although there’s a rooted feeling in you that proclaims the thought is definitely going to end up being false based on what you’ve observed these past couple of days.)

Or….

You bolt over to the very inviting dispenser and pour as much as you can in your hands, then scurry back to hide behind the curtains.

Pursuing your lips at both suggestions, your mind oscillates between them through the pin-drop silence the remaining showers contain. After a solid stretch of time, you clench your teeth and choose the second.

Foam spills out when keep pushing against the dispenser, the soft mixture covering the entirety of your hands until you’ve collected a decent amount. Spinning around, you instantly prepare yourself to head back promptly.

Your steps halt.

The mixture is long forgotten, beginning to frizzle onto the ground. A hue of red scatters across your skin, hands roughly fisting the material of the flimsy towel covering your form.

“C-Captain…”

He looks up like he hasn’t noticed someone had called out his title, eyes sleepily blinking until they catch sight of you. The gesture unfortunately also gives you a lovely view of what he’s not wearing, vision only catching onto the flimsy pair of shorts he has on until you can only seem to stare at the ground when the colour on your cheeks inflares.

“Y/N.” He states, voice sounding considerably normal which at least brings some peace to your mind. However, the speed of questions racing though your mind is unbelievable the longer you stand there right in front of him.

Is it obvious? Is he wondering why your wearing a giant towel to cover yourself? Should you say it’s because you’re really shy or something? Does your hair look weird?

You freeze.

Y-Your hair….

You abruptly straighten up, a hand slapping against your neck to conceal the locks as you hug the towel tighter to your form. He raises an eyebrow and you swear his eyes flatter downward for a moment as he catches the movement, but then he straightens up similar to you and clears his throat.

“Did you need some soap?” His voice comes out surprisingly normal again, but you slowly nod.

“I just forgot to bring my s-shampoo…” You flinch when he leans down, hand rummaging through his own bag and you try to very discreetly ignore the fact that’s bare from waist up, eyes staring up at the ceiling as if you were minding your own business.

“Here.” He plops something into your hand and take a short glimpse at him, surprisingly noticing a slight speckle of pink running down from his neck all the way up to ears. You abruptly blink, attempting to focus your attention onto what he’s given you.

It’s a small green bottle, more than enough for you to wash your hair. “Give it back to me when you’re done, I’m going to go shower.”

You slowly nod as if still processing exactly what was going on until Yoongi moves away without another word. After that, it snaps into you that you’re still standing in broad daylight and quickly zoom back behind the shadowing curtains, mind still boggled about the man you just encountered.

It seems like…he doesn’t know…You ponder for a moment, struggling to gauge if there was any slight indication through your ill endeavour at wanting to cleanse your hair that the captain could have easily deciphered. Yet the whole interaction doesn’t suggest that was at all the case, him just simply handing you the shampoo he had on him and then heading off on his way.

Fluttering your eyes close, you rapidly shake your head and grasp onto the small bottle. The knob is twisted and a drizzle of water covers you, only one thought being left behind.

He doesn’t know.

***

Heading back to your dorm, a groan escapes you when you stretch out your tired limbs. From having to wake up early for basketball meets and then keeping up with school, to doing vigorous training and even becoming part ninja to get a decent shower, you truthfully feel exhausted. However, the layer of exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones isn’t enough to whisk away the events that had occurred, your hands unconsciously flittering to your bag to reveal the bottle Yoongi gave you.

You wonder if it’s his personal one, because if it is, then he’s actually has a keen choice for smells. When you had begun to lather onto your hands, you had missed the original shampoo you had been using for quite some time. It had a simple floral fragrance, not too light but not too strong either, enough for you to acknowledge that even though you’ve enrolled into this school and joined the team, there was a piece of you that hasn’t completely changed.

It was a small thing, but it allowed you to have something to keep your identity linked to. After all, if there was no way you could tell someone, at least it was a way for your bottle of shampoo to keep the hidden secret sealed.

And yet when Yoongi’s shampoo came into contact with your locks, you had been expecting a lot of things. You were silently praying that it wasn’t a heavy musky smell, something you’ve noticed to frequent the changerooms whenever you entered, or a strong stench that just further drilled into you that this was a certain changeroom you really shouldn’t be in.

Surprisingly, neither of those were the case. The scent from the substance was more lively and fresh, almost balancing between the smell cedar wood and delicate traces of musk. You had been taken aback in the midst of your shower, wondering if it was truly shampoo until the details on the bottle confirmed your suspicions.

Even though you had just briefly run into him, it’s bizarre to admit that the incident had lead you to knowing more about your captain rather than your meets, in which he typically avoids you at all instances.

Sighing when your mind wanders over to other places, you carefully tuck the borrowed soap back into your bag and make a mental note to eventually give it back to him. Taking out your keys, you eradicate your mind of all thoughts and the door to room 613 is opened.

When the door widens, you don’t enter, instead you remain standing at the entrance and appear completely perplexed.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!!” Hoseok’s voice screeches, his form cowering behind Jimin who appears to have seen a ghost.

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook mumbles, a cereal box in his hands as he narrows his eyes onto the wall. It’s then you notice the giant black dot standing out from the white background, only catching a glimpse before the box slams against it and all is left behind is a splattered mess.

You grimace as Taehyung exits the kitchen, a familiar floral apron tied around his waist and a white mixed batter in his hands. His smile falls as a look of revolt crosses him instead, brows contorting.

“What the– EW!” He points to the very notable stain on the wall, “You guys left bug juices all over my wall!”

Your eyes trail over to the door that’s right next to the stain and surely enough, it’s the one that leads into Taehyung’s room.

“Guys seriously, that’s just nasty…” He gets closer to the remains and the disgust just seems to intensify, “Someone better clean this up because I am nowhere in hell going to touch that.”

Hoseok pleadingly stares at Jungkook who pouts.

“I’m the one that killed it…”

A sigh leaves Hoseok, dragging himself over to the sink to grab some water and a sponge. The door clicks behind you as you set your bag onto the ground, a smile rising on Jimin’s lips.

“Hi Y/N!” His voice seems to take everyone out of it, noticing your presence one by one after the catastrophe occurring because of one single bug.

“Hey gu– WOAH!” Something large buzzes by your ears as you quickly swoop away, a hand resting on your racing heartbeat.

From a distance away, Hoseok is screeching like an ambulance siren, “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!?”

Jungkook grabs onto the cereal box again, dashing over to it as the rest of you cower away, the only exception being Taehyung who stands across his wall in defense.

“Kill it over there!” He shouts when Jungkook nears, however instead of the bug landing gracefully on the wall, it lands on Taehyung.

He freezes; eyes darting up to see Jungkook’s determined ones, voice shimmering considerably down.

“Hey Jungkook…” Taehyung sweetly whispers, but when Jungkook leaps forward there’s a scream unleashing from Taehyung as he scatters away.

You are completely confused with the situation, only being able to catch up with Taehyung’s excessive sprinting and Jungkook’s tendency to knock everything down as he goes away with hitting the cereal box against every surface Taehyung escapes from.

After a mess forms from their running, Hoseok bravely stands in front of Taehyung and grasps onto his arms, gaze wavering as he glances over to Jungkook.

“Just kill it already!” He shouts, a loud smack resonating through the room when you and Jimin stare at each other bewildered. Taehyung leans away as if his shirt had been infected, your eyes not really keen on what the bug’s residue ending up looking like.

After Taehyung complains that he can’t trust Hoseok anymore and that he’s going to shift over to a different room, Jungkook apologies and Jimin coaxes him. You on the other hand feel like you’ve just gone through a whirlwind, exiting the situation entirely as you withdraw to your room.

Landing exhaustedly on your bed, you take your phone out and dial a familiar set of numbers.

***

The steps you take are slow and cautious, hands clasped onto each other when you enter the room. You take a deep breath when there’s still three boys sprawled all across the room, watching a movie with eager eyes.

“Um…” Your voice is so faint that only Jimin catches onto it, eyes perking up.

“Something wrong Y/N?” Before you know it, the movie is paused and there’s a set of three intrigued eyes glancing over at you.

The stares cause you to falter, eyes drifting over to the door unconsciously.

“No…nothing’s wrong…” You mumble, but Taehyung draws closer, curiosity spiking in his eyes. He doesn’t get the chance to ask you further about it, a light knock residing outside of the door.

“Oh!” You jolt suddenly, beginning to walk towards the door as all the eyes follow along with your every movement. “Uh…so, one of my friends wanted to come over.”

“Friend?!” Hoseok hollers, a wide grin on his features as he reaches out for the door before you do. “Then let them in Y/N!”

You’re far too late in stopping him, wishing to yourself that he had given you the opportunity to explain first. The door swings wide open, a flash of bright red greeting your eyes immediately. There’s a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her nose and a heavy bag grasped in her hands, lips frowning when she takes a step in.

She captures the attention of everyone in the room in an instant, Hoseok’s mouth falling agape when she scoffs and flips a lock of brown hair away from her shoulder.

“Where is Y/N?” Her tone is demanding, only seeing a room full of guys gaping at her instead of the person she’s searching for. You step out from behind Taehyung, lips warmly smiling when the bag in her hands meets the ground, arms instantly wrapping around you.

You welcome her hug with open arms, watching her detach from you and throw her arms into the air.

“Surprise!!” A bubbly laugh escapes her and you join in, noticing Hoseok slowly inching closer.

“Your friend…is a girl?” He wonders, Hyerin plucking off her sunglasses and placing a hand on her hip.

“And…?” When Hoseok’s caught off guard, she cocks up a brow. “What? You’ve never seen a girl in your life before?”

“T-That’s not what I meant!” He stammers, eyes pointing accusingly at her as she darts a “seriously” look at you instead that just makes you laugh.

“He means that girls aren’t allowed in our dorms.” Jimin speaks up, walking over to you with a smile, “Which is why it’s hard to believe that you’re here.”

“Mhm, so I’ve heard.” Hyerin picks at her nails, “They gave me ten minutes.”

She turns to you, “That should be enough, no?” You nod and she smiles, everyone’s expression morphing into one of sheer shock at how friendly you two are.

“Wow.” Taehyung whispers, “Who knew Y/N was such a ladies man?”

Hoseok snorts at that and Jimin giggles, causing you to glance between them bewildered at why they would think such a thing when you’re simply just talking to your best friend. That’s when it hits you like a pile of bricks.

Here you were, their roommate, a member of their team and a guy being comfortable with a girl you claim to be friends with.

You glance over at Hyerin and see her trying to repress a laugh, something that truly brings out a smile from you. “Ohh, so even looking at her makes you smile, hmm?”

More laugher erupts in the room and you look up bewildered again. Hyerin shifts, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she loops her arms around yours and batts her eyelashes.

“Well, what do you say Y/N? Would I make a good girlfriend?”

She snickers and you lightly shake your head, but the guys around you are suddenly shouting, voices raised up high. However that’s when Hyerin lets go of you, hands on her lips as she struts towards them, “You guys have been nice to Y/N, right?”

“We have been!” Hoseok squeaks in defense, and Jimin nods.

“We even celebrated when he got accepted into our team.”

“I see…” Hyerin pursues her lips, looping her arms around yours again, “Well if I ever come to find out that’s not the case, then……”

There’s a near threatening look residing in her eyes, a look you recognize too well as the one she uses when she needs to get something she wants. Hoseok darts behind Jimin, cowering away.

“There won’t be a case like that.” Taehyung says, causing Hyerin to stare at him before she hums.

“Good.” She settles back down, eyes coming into contact yours, “Shall we?”

“Oh, right!” You grab the bag that’s been flung onto the ground and hand it back to her, “Guys we’ll be out for a while.”

Hoseok smirks, “Have fun on your date~”

Jimin laughs and you shake your head again, closing the door shut behind you and then locking it. When you turn to face Hyerin, she has the same smirk that Hoseok had.

“So where are you taking me out tonight?” There’s a lengthy sigh drawn out from you and Hyerin laughs again, walking alongside you until you exit the building.

***

“You were right, they do seem nice.” Hyerin hums, moving to grab a pair of plastic gloves and a bottle of conditioner.

“Right? There’s nothing for you to worry about.” You quickly assure, leaning back in the black leather chair. “I’ve seen them as a team and live with them, so I think I got pretty lucky in that way.”

She hums again, “How has practice been going?”

“Good, I’m just trying to get used to being apart of the team.” You sincerely smile with the words. Although you had already met majority of your members prior to being placed into the team alongside some newer faces, you quickly learned that there was heavy focus on learning to play together rather than individually.

“That’s nice.” Her hand reaches out, removing the short piece of mop stuck on your head. Your hair pools out and she throws the mop away with a look of disgust, causing you to chuckle.

“Hate that thing.” She whispers, hands weaving through your long locks with sympathetic eyes. A defeated sigh passes through her lips, strands of your hair falling out of her hands.

“Are you really sure you want to do this?”

“Hm?” You glance up at her, a lopsided smile on your features.

“I have to Hyerin.”

She affectionately touches your hair again, “But your hair is so beautiful.”

“I know…but I can’t take any chances.” Your mind flashes back to the time of try-outs, how easily it would have been to simply take the wig off of your head to discover your true identity when you had passed out. Although there’s some things that are out of your grasps because of how you are physically, this is something you can control and if it means cutting away your long-grown hair for basketball, it’s something you would do within a heartbeat.

“Please Hyerin?” You send her a gaze and it seems to break her, letting go of it with frustration.

“ARGH! FINE!” She takes out the scissors in a flash and tugs on a strand, eyes still faltering for a moment. With a sigh, she shuts her eyes and shakes her head, bringing down the light metal until one strand begins to pool around your feet.

Followed by another, and another.

#btsboulangerie #btswritersnet #bts yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #bts yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi basketball au #yoongi sports au #bts yoongi basketball au #bts yoongi sports au #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts sports au #bt basketball au #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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astarryon · 5 years

Text

Simpler Times

Characters: The Hargreeves Siblings

Warnings: Mention of potential substance abuse, the ‘f’ slur is used in passing (not as a direct insult)

Summary: On one of the last nights where the kids get to be anything close to normal, Klaus suggests they have some fun. His idea? Heading over to the 24/7 doughnut shop and getting absolutely trashed on sugar.

A/N: this is nothing but me working through grief as I wait a whole year for the next season of Umbrella Academy to drop. These kids deserve love and happiness and if the writers aren’t gonna give it to them I’ll do it myself!! (That’s only kind of true, this is somewhat angsty lol). Anyways, enjoy, let me know what you think, and stick around! This definitely isn’t going to be the last Umbrella Academy piece I write!

Based on Five’s line about how he and his siblings used to sneak out to eat doughnuts until they puked

—

October 20th, 2002

Klaus tiptoed across the floor, unable to keep from holding his breath out of anticipation. He was much too tired to tell whether it was anxiety or excitement causing his heart rate to spike — maybe a bit of both? — but he didn’t have the time to stop and wonder about it. He was already short on time, and with everyone else already waiting for them downstairs, he needed to work quickly lest they be left behind.

Slowly, so slowly that he could hear the click of the knob unlatching, Klaus twisted the door handle and carefully pulled it open. There she was — he just had to make it to the far side of the room without startling her. If he could do that, he could invite her, and they’d all be home free for the next couple of hours.

“Vanya,” Klaus whispered, shaking his sister gently once he was close enough to touch her. He climbed up on her bed, kneeling at her side and leaning over her face. Vanya looked so calm when she slept; he had to envy her for it. With as much as their father had been throwing Klaus into the mausoleum in an effort to get him to comfortably commune with the dead, he hadn’t been sleeping very well lately. He wondered what it was Vanya dreamed about, and wished he could experience it for himself. All his dreams were of pale faces with their mouths stretched into never ending screams.

Klaus hated to wake her, but he was almost positive she would be glad for it. “Vanya,” he whispered again, a touch louder this time. “Wake up, okay? It’s important.”

Vanya exhaled hard, lips parting as she made her way back from the land of sleep. Her lashes fluttered a few moments, tickling Klaus’ face, and when she eventually opened her eyes, she looked confused. “Klaus?” she murmured, rubbing a hand over her face and pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What time ‘s’it?”

“Like one in the morning,” Klaus told her, curling up on his side next to her. “Sorry to wake you. You looked like you were having a good dream.”

Vanya frowned. She was familiar with what went on at night, what their father had taken to doing to Klaus. There had been a couple of times when she’d even snuck over to Klaus’ room to keep him company, usually just until he fell asleep, but the two of them had been careful not to share that with any of their siblings. It was more for Klaus’ sake — Luther and Diego would never let him hear the end of it if he confessed to having nightmares.

“I was,” Vanya confirmed. “Want me to tell you about it?”

“Maybe later, okay? You gotta get dressed and come with me.”

Vanya scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, fighting off a yawn. This wasn’t the first night her brother had crept into her room; Klaus was a lonely soul by nature, and he seemed to oscillate between spending his nights with Vanya, Diego, and Ben — Allison, too, when she was feeling especially charitable — but this was the first time he’d asked her to follow him somewhere. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Klaus told her, nodding enthusiastically. “But we have to hurry, because the others are waiting for us downstairs, okay? You know how Five gets if we make him wait for stuff too long.”

“I don’t get it,” Vanya insisted. “What are we making him wait for? Where are we going?”

Klaus couldn’t contain his excitement anymore. “We’re getting doughnuts!” he exclaimed, hands shaking out of pure giddiness. “Just us seven, we’re all gonna sneak over to that twenty four hour doughnut shop and party! No Dad, no Mom, no Pogo. Just us and about a million maple bars!” Vanya’s responding frown wasn’t exactly what Klaus had been hoping to see. “Hey, what’s wrong? Don’t you wanna come?”

Vanya sighed, crossing her arms over her chest subconsciously. “Do the others want me to go?”

“What do you mean?” Klaus asked. “Of course they do!”

She wasn’t so sure about that. Her siblings weren’t exactly the greatest at including her. Five did his best, often staying up late to make peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches with her, and Klaus and Ben always roped her into their hijinks one way or another, but most of the time it seemed as if her siblings hardly even noticed she was there at all. Half of them probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if she ran off to join the circus.

“I don’t know, Klaus,” she mumbled, frowning at her brother. She pretended not to see the tired bags beneath his eyes, tried to imagine that her brother was a normal and well rested boy the way he deserved to be, one who wasn’t haunted by dead people in dark crypts. “I mean, should we really be sneaking out anyway? You know dad’ll flip if he finds out we left without permission.”

“He’s not going to because none of us are snitches!” Well, except maybe Luther, but Klaus was trying to inspire confidence, not break it down further. “Come on, Vanya, please? For your favorite brother ever?”

She was silent a moment, contemplating. It was no joke that their father would be pissed beyond belief if he found out they’d all snuck out; Vanya couldn’t even begin to imagine the consequences. Plus, they all had a strict wake up time of eight o’clock sharp; if it was already one in the morning, the seven of them were sure to be dead tired when they next awoke. Still... when was the last time they’d gotten to act like normal kids, powers or no powers? When had they ever been able to do something so silly? When would they ever be able to again?

“Okay,” Vanya murmured, sitting up in her bed and waiting for Klaus to right himself as well. “I guess doughnuts sound good. We don’t have any money, though, so how are we supposed to—?”

“Trust me, I have money,” Klaus told her. “Don’t worry about it! I’ll wait outside your door, okay? Make sure you put on something warm.”

“Got it, Dad,” Vanya teased, smiling at her brother. They were the same age, and Klaus certainly didn’t act like it, but Vanya liked to pretend that he was something of an older brother to her. “I’ll be right out.”

—

“They’re taking too long,” Diego complained, leaning his forehead against the nearby wall. He was doing his damnedest not to let the others know just how tired he was, but that was proving exceptionally difficult. “I say we just leave them.”

“That would be rude,” Ben pointed out, tugging his sweatshirt on over his head and stifling a yawn. He wasn’t afraid to look as tired as he felt.

“Not to mention that Klaus is the one with the money,” Five added. His head was covered with an oversized beanie, and the scarf wrapped around his neck only served to dwarf him further. He looked like an adorably oversized, half thawed toddler. “This whole thing was his idea, and he’s the one paying, so. No Klaus, no doughnuts.”

Allison rubbed her eyes, trying not to fall asleep where she sat on the bottom step of the staircase. “Where do you think he even got the money?”

“Probably stole it,” Luther muttered. “I’m still not sure we should be doing this.”

“If you don’t stop being such a killjoy,” Klaus announced from the top of the stairs, Vanya just a step behind him, “then you’re uninvited. We’re going out to have a good time, Luther, not to suck a rulebook’s dick.”

The comment won a collective chuckle from the siblings. Vanya covered her mouth, always amused at Klaus and his eccentricity, and Ben reached up for a high five as soon as the two had made it down to the foot of the staircase. Even Allison let out a bit of a giggle. She wasn’t one to admit it, but excluding Luther, she was pretty sure Klaus was her favorite brother.

Not that any of them would say it out loud, but Klaus was everyone’s favorite brother.

“Is everyone ready?” he asked, reaching into his pocket and patting a small wad of bills to make sure it was still there.

They all looked around at one another, making sure their affairs were in order. In truth, the seven of them looked ridiculous, what with their bundles of warm, black clothing. Vanya, pressed for time, had simply tugged her thick winter coat on over her pajamas, shiny black rain boots adorning her feet. Luther had oversized gloves obscuring his hands, which he kept rubbing together in an effort to gain some feeling back into his fingers. Diego — stupidly, in everyone else’s opinion — had forgone any particularly warm clothing, claiming that only sissies complained about the weather. Ben had taken one look at his brother and gone back to his room to put on an extra layer of clothing, partly because just the sight of Diego had him shivering in his boots, and partly because he wanted to make sure a coat would be available if his stubborn brother changed his mind. Klaus, the only one who had known this outing was coming, had been the most prepared and yet also somehow managed to look the most wild, wrapped in an oversized bubble coat and ready to take on any weather the night may throw at him.

If they were any older, someone might see them out on the street and think they were on their way to vandalize city property. Any younger, and people might’ve assumed that they were dressed as a gaggle of robbers, out to trick or treat at the wrong time of year. Either way they hacked it, this was, perhaps, the first time the siblings had looked anything close to normal in their thirteen years of life.

Their walk wasn’t a long one, thankfully enough. Griddy’s doughnuts was only a few blocks from the academy, and the cold temperature of the night was incentive for the kids to make quick work of the trip. There wasn’t much talking, save for the occasional complaint about the whether and Luther grumbling about how this wasn’t a good idea. Allison tried to convince him not to worry so much, though her words weren’t seeming to sway his paranoia. Klaus made a mental note to himself to thank her for her efforts sometime later.

“Are we even going the right way?” Diego demanded, trying not to let his shivering effect his voice.

“Do you want my jacket?” Ben whispered to him quietly.

“I’m not cold,” Diego snapped, crossing his arms tighter over his chest.

“Trust me, I know where we are,” Klaus responded. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Okay, but you’re sure?”

“Seriously, Klaus,” Luther added. “It’s way too late for us to be getting lost in the city.”

One of these days, Klaus thought to himself, his siblings would have enough confidence in him to take him at his word. Or maybe they wouldn’t. The truth was, he really didn’t care much either way.

“This isn’t the first time Klaus has come out at night,” Five murmured, tugging Vanya sideways by the hand to make sure she avoided stepping in a particularly large puddle. “He probably knows where he’s going better than we do.”

“You’ve gone to get doughnuts without us, Klaus?” Vanya asked, sounding particularly put off by the idea. She felt left out as it was, what with not being able to participate on family outings for crime fighting. Klaus tried to include her as much as he could, more than the others tended to, so to hear that he might’ve been going out on adventures without her hurt her feelings just a touch.

“Oh, no, this is the first time,” he answered quickly, offering her a kind smile. While Five wasn’t technically incorrect — fucking snitch — Klaus had never gone for doughnuts on his late night outings. In fact, the idea of his siblings finding out that he’d actually been making late night trips to buy substances to suppress his powers was terrifying to him. Klaus knew the look that Ben would get, knew that Luther would give him a self righteous talking to and Diego would fix him with a disapproving look. Vanya and Allison might be a bit gentler with him, if the slightest bit judgy, and from the sounds of it, Five already suspected what he was up to. Still... saying it out loud made him feel itchy. “Oh, look, there it is! Who doesn’t know where he’s going, brothers mine?”

Each of them looked across the street to where Klaus pointed, a bright, neon sign winking invitingly at them. For the seven of them, children who had been kept from the outside world in favor of practicing and honing their powers, often against their individual wills, the well lit interior of the doughnut shop was just about the most exciting, wonderful thing they had ever seen.

Diego took one look at the place and let out a shout of relief and desperation, dashing across the street and immediately making for the door. He wasn’t about to say it, but he was just about done with freezing his ass off to look tough. “Let’s go!” he yelled back at his siblings, wrenching the door to the shop open.

The other six exchanged glances with one another, their giddiness bubbling up and out of them. As Five was already grasping one of Vanya’s hands, Klaus grasped her free one and then reached for Ben’s with his other, who in turn grabbed onto Allison’s, who was already holding Luther’s. They all squeezed each other’s palms, reveling in this night of freedom and silliness and borrowed time to behave like children, and let out their own cheers of delight as they charged their way across the street, following in Diego’s footsteps.

—

“Uh... hello... ma’am,” Luther greeted the dumbfounded blonde, middle aged waitress behind the counter. He wasn’t sure why, but he strained to make his voice deeper. It didn’t change the fact that she was staring at him and the other six like they were some freak show — which, technically, they were anyway — but it was enough to make him feel a little more adultish.

“Are you kids lost?” the woman — Agnes, if the name sewn into her uniform was anything to go by — prompted. Her eyes got wide in a way the kids weren’t quite used to. Normally when people were staring at them, it was because they were curious, or they wanted to try and catch a glimpse at them using their powers. This lady seemed more concerned for them than they had ever seen an adult be before. “Where are your parents?”

“We’re old enough to be out by ourselves,” Diego told her politely, trying his hardest to look neither guilty nor disrespectful. “Could we order some doughnuts? Please?”

Agnes glanced between the seven children with wide eyes, taking in the sight of their oversized clothing and pink cheeks as each of them in turn gave her suspiciously innocent grins. She couldn’t be sure whether they were runaways, didn’t know where they had come from or why they were out so late. The only things Agnes did know for certain was that it was nearly two in the morning and below freezing outside. One of the children wasn’t wearing a jacket, and the rest of them looked like they’d just stepped into the White House, they were so amazed. She couldn’t just kick them out... but...

“I’m sorry, kids,” Agnes told them, hating herself for having to steal their excitement away. “But I really can’t just let you sit in here. This is a business, and—“

“Oh, don’t worry!” One of the boys, the tallest of the bunch, stepped forward and climbed up on one of the barstools, shoving his hands into his pockets. When he brought them back out, he dropped several wadded bills — large ones — on the counter in front of her. “We’re paying customers!” When Agnes only managed to stare further, the boy hesitated, glancing at his siblings and then back to Agnes somewhat nervously. “This... that’s enough, right?”

More than enough, actually. Just a cursory glance at the bills that boy had offered up told Agnes there was enough money there for a dozen doughnuts at least six times over. Still, though, where were the kids’ parents? How had they gotten here? Were they plating hooky? Were they trying to escape from authorities? Agnes really should go in the back room and make a call to the authorities, right?

Then again... who was Agnes to deny these kids their fun?

Sighing and resigning herself to the fact that an angry adult could show up at any time, Agnes pulled out her pen and her order pad. “Make yourselves at home, kiddos,” she told them, smiling gently and looking each of them over as they other six climbed up onto stools. “What’ll it be?”

—

“So, are you gonna tell me why you had all that money?”

Klaus glanced sideways at Diego, not bothering to hide the slight flinch he’d given out of surprise. Diego was always quiet, annoyingly enough, and Klaus had found himself on the other side of a never ending prank war because of it.

“Don’t see why that’s any of your business,” Klaus replied. He didn’t mean to be unkind, but his siblings were a bunch of cryptic assholes, and Diego was especially dramatic. Could anyone really blame him if that caused his anxiety to spike? “Not like I robbed a convenience store or anything, so you can drop the wannabe Batman voice.”

“I’m not doing my—“

“There it is again!” Klaus teased, pointing a playful finger at Diego’s chest. “Come on, dude, you have to know you don’t sound as tough as you think you do!”

He was deflecting, and he knew it was stupid obvious, but if it got him out of Diego’s interrogation then Klaus could overlook his own shitty acting skills. Besides, it wasn’t like he was acting too much to begin with. He really was happy to be out with his siblings, happy that they could stop pretending to hate each other to enjoy a sweet treat with one another, if only just for a couple of hours. Klaus knew this wasn’t going to last forever, and couldn’t be entirely positive that it was ever going to happen again, but he was just happy that he knew for a fact that his siblings were having a good time because of something he’d done, if only this one time around.

“Hey, I’m macho as hell, scrawny ass,” Diego shot back, unable to help his own little chuckle. Klaus liked his brother best when he was willing to drop his act like that. “And you’re changing the subject.”

“I saved it,” Klaus mumbled, letting his gaze wander over to the shop counter. Vanya and Five were busy seeing how many donuts they could stack atop Ben’s head without the tower falling over. Allison and Luther were whispering conspiratorially to one another, wide, stupidly happy grins on each of their faces. “And I took some stuff to the pawn shop downtown the other day. Guess I was just excited to spend it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Diego gave his brother a long, blank stare. It made sense Klaus wouldn’t think he’d know any better; all the siblings were generally a bit distant from each other, confused as to whether they should consider the others allies or competition, and Diego made it clear which way his opinion swayed. Still, though, that didn’t mean he never paid attention. His siblings were competition second, family first. Not even their father’s repetitive droning would knock that idea out of his head.

“Let me try again,” he eventually sighed, fixing Klaus with the sternest expression any thirteen year old had ever managed to muster. “What were you gonna do with that money before you decided on a family donut trip?”

“Does it count as a family trip if Mom and Dad aren’t here? And, do we count Pogo, or—“

“Klaus.”

Klaus sighed, suddenly finding the neon vibrancy of the jukebox he’d crossed the room to peruse particularly fascinating.

“I... you remember when I was sick last month?” He kept his eyes on the jukebox’s track list, but made sure to focus more on Diego. This was a sensitive topic for Klaus, and while he was never embarrassed to share his feelings, he was a bit scared of what his brother might think of him after hearing what he was about to say.

Diego thought a moment, trying to remember the incident Klaus was referring to. “That time you cried every time you swallowed ‘cause your throat was so sore?” He’d been worried Klaus was going to die of laryngitis or whatever he’d been sick with, not that he’d taken the time to express that out loud. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Right, that’s the time.” Jesus, this jukebox was filled with a lot of old school crap, wasn’t it? “Well, anyways, Mom gave me some NyQuil one night, just to help me get to sleep. I don’t think she liked seeing me in pain.” He paused, feeling his eyes growing threateningly warm. “She didn’t know Dad was planning on throwing me in the mausoleum again that night.”

It was silent for a few beats, and Diego scratched the back of his neck in confusion. Klaus kindly ignored the slight horror on his face at the mention of the mausoleum. He’d known their father made Klaus undergo particularly cruel experimentation, but Diego tried not to think about it too often. Shit was depressing, after all, and sympathy wasn’t going to do Klaus any good. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” he said simply.

Klaus frowned, searching for the words but unsure whether he actually wanted to find them. “It’s just... I didn’t see any ghosts that night. Usually they show up as soon as Dad locks me in, but they weren’t there. You know that’s the first time I’ve ever not seen a ghost outside the house?”

He tried not to sound too excited, but that was hard to pull off. Klaus was so used to living in terror, not that his father cared. He liked to think his siblings might, but any worry they offered him wouldn’t be productive, considering they had about as much power as Klaus did. It was a terrible situation that he was powerless to stop, making the fact that he finally had a way to help himself his greatest accomplishment in life.

“Mom gave me more the next night,” he continued, pushing the words out. “And I didn’t see anything then, either. Dad doesn’t even let me take ibuprofen because it’ll inhibit the ghost goggles, you know? But the NyQuil kept knocking me out, so I figured I should try something a little... stronger.” There it was; his big secret. “I was going to try it tonight, but I got too scared and didn’t want to be alone. I had a little money left over and figured you guys would wanna hang out with me if I had doughnuts to give you.”

Diego blinked, trying to make sure he understood correctly. This was the one time he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “So, you... you bought...?”

“Drugs,” Klaus finished. “Yeah, I did. It��s just weed, but I hear it’s not so bad, and you don’t get, like, addicted. Better than some of the other stuff, y’know?”

Diego was still having trouble processing. His brother Klaus, the freest, most carefree person in the house, was experimenting with drugs? Klaus, who never seemed to be bothered by anything or anyone? Who let Allison paint his nails and flipped off the asshole kids who waited outside the house with the rest of the crowds just to call him a faggot for it with a shiny black-tipped finger?

Klaus was hurting?

What a stupid question. Of course Klaus was hurting; they all were.

“Don’t tell the others, okay?” Klaus pleaded. He clasped his hands tightly in front of him, hoping against hope that Diego would be as cool a brother as he knew he could be. “If they tell Dad, there’s no telling what I’ll—“

“That’s your business, dude.” The words had come out a bit rougher than Diego had intended, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t tell if he was more horrified that Klaus wanted to stoop to as low a level as taking drugs to numb his powers instead of facing them, or that their father had been the one to drag Klaus down to that point in the first place. “It’s got nothing to do with me, just... be careful with it, alright?”

Klaus’ face softened as he understood, able to see through the curtain of Diego’s barbed words. “Love you too, brother. What do you say we go shove some doughnuts down our throats?”

“Sure, Klaus,” he sighed, watching as his brother finally selected a song from the jukebox before heading back over to their siblings. The urge to say something about what his brother had just admitted — Diego wasn’t sure what he could say, only knew that he should say something — wasn’t easily fought off, but he managed. For the sake of this desperately sought out good time between the siblings, Diego let it go.

It wasn’t until he was a few years older and saw just exactly what Klaus would become that Diego wished he would’ve said something, anything to derail the path he’d allowed his brother to take that night.

—

“I’m gonna... oh my god, I’m gonna puke,” Ben muttered, clutching at his stomach in agony as they all trudged home. “I knew I should’ve stopped at that eighth custard filled one. The doughnut holes really messed me up.”

Diego — now noticeably wearing the extra jacket Ben had made sure to bring — carried his brother along, slinging his arms tighter around his shoulders. “What, you would’ve rather gone down like a coward? No, dude, you did good.”

“Yeah,” Allison sighed, leaning heavily on Klaus. Normally that was a position reserved for Luther, but Klaus’ height made him a better standing pillow. “At least you didn’t actually throw up.”

Klaus laughed hard, ignoring his sister’s dirty look. Poor Allison had only made it about four jelly filleds in before running outside to hack her guts up. He wished he’d had a way to record it, if only so they could all laugh about it together later on. He guessed they’d just have to settle for memories.

“I’m gonna pass out,” Vanya sighed, stumbling a bit over a crack in the sidewalk. Five made sure to reach his arms out to catch her, just in case she actually did fall. “Does anyone know what time it is?”

“It was almost four when we left Griddy’s,” Luther muttered, furiously rubbing his eyes in an effort to stay awake. “Are we almost home?”

“We’re literally two feet in front of the mansion, you big baby,” Five scoffed. “God, I’m still coming down off that sugar high. This was such a good idea.”

“Everybody say ‘Thank you, Klaus,’” Klaus teased, shifting his grip on Allison so he could lean forward and pull the door open. He half expected his father or Pogo to be waiting for them all at the door, ready with a shaking fist and a sharp reprimand, but the foyer was dark and no one was to be seen.

“Thanks, Klaus,” Allison murmured down at his side. She smiled at him kindly, using the fact that she was already leaning against him to engulf him in a tight hug. “Really.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Diego chimed in as he and the rest of the siblings shuffled inside. “This was... really cool of you. We love you.” That last sentence was punctuated with a meaningful look, and Klaus had to try really hard not to let it mean too much to him.

“Thanks, Klaus,” Vanya murmured, darting forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

They all took their turns thanking him, hugging him, telling him they loved him and each other. It was the kindest they’d ever collectively been, and that fact was enough to make his chest grow warm.

Klaus watched as, one by one, his siblings disappeared to their rooms, sleepy smiles on their faces and their stresses and anxieties temporarily relieved. Maybe they didn’t get along all the time; maybe they were all obsessed with outshining the others so that their father would like them best. But Klaus had managed to give them all the gift of childlike excitement, had made it possible for them to let go of their worries for a little while. The fact that he had that knowledge, that he knew he’d been responsible for making everyone fell better, that?

That was magical to him.

He went upstairs to his room, changing into pajamas and taking one look at the box on his night stand, the box where he was hiding the drugged brownie he’d managed to get his hands on before disregarding it entirely and moving to get some sleep. His siblings might not have realized it, but they’d given him a gift in return for the one he’d offered. None of them knew it, not even Klaus himself, but sneaking out together to go get donuts and make happy memories together had bought Klaus his last two weeks of sobriety.

But, then again, no good deed ever truly went unpunished. Five would go missing in the next week, lost to a stupid desire to prove that he could time travel, and Ben would die horribly the week after that, leaving Klaus the only one who could speak to him for the rest of his days. Luther and Allison were closing themselves off, Diego was pushing him away, and he couldn’t stand to look at Vanya anymore because he knew Five wouldn’t be beside her like he always used to be.

So, eventually, Klaus ate the brownie, then began experimenting with other, stronger things, and before he knew it, he’d all but mentally checked out of reality. Let his surviving siblings call him a coward, let his father consider him the greatest disappointment imaginable, Klaus didn’t care. As long as he could numb the pain, as long as he could look back on that happy memory of the donut shop and forget everything else that had happened to both him and his siblings, he would be fine.

Because finding bliss? Being happy?

That was all that mattered now.

Klaus would never see a sober day again for the next sixteen odd years, but as long as he had that last good memory to hold on to while he was doping up and numbing the pain, he didn’t much care.

#the umbrella academy #tua #umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves #luther hargreeves #umbrella academy fanfiction #one shot #fanfic #fanfiction

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richiethedicktozier · 6 years

Text

feed on your fear.

i couldn’t stop thinking about richie’s bat outburst in the sewers-- and i thought about richie, a year later, not over it and not really able to get over it. here is the result, (about 2k of troubled internal thoughts):

Richie hasn’t picked up a baseball bat in months. At first, it was just too cold outside to even consider playing any sport, and it was a great excuse. He didn’t want to feel the tense ache in his shoulder from last summer, from swinging a bat way too fast at something way too hard-- and inhuman.

But then it got warmer, and inched toward the anniversary of when Georgie got hurt, and when they all thought their summers were going to end in coffins-- and Richie doesn’t want to tempt any fate in wrapping a single finger around a bat. No. Not again...

It’s a hot August day and Richie and Bill are sprawled over the couch, a single fan oscillating between them. Bill’s in a tank top and his goddamn jean shorts that Richie insists he needs to take off-- and not in any fun sort of way. Richie takes his shirt off the minute he walks in the door and saw no parental figure was home. It isn’t even that hot, Richie just can’t stand the sun’s constant glare. His glasses always catch it and hurt his eyes while his entire body grows exhausted from the steady exposure. Bill is afraid he’s going to bake himself to death and keeps him indoors as much as possible-- his legs resting over Richie’s and keeping him pinned to the couch.

“Hey, Richie?” Georgie asks, his feet padding down the stairs. There’s an uneven thump following his two steps. Richie cranes his neck to see Georgie trailing over to them with a large tennis ball-- and a bat.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?” Richie tries to straighten his posture and collect himself. He moves his glasses, hoping to lose focus on the weapon in Georgie’s hand.

“Would you come play with me?” Georgie says. “I want to practice.”

“Baseball?” Richie asks. The word sticks in his throat, like he trying to breathe honey. It’s not sweet. It’s poison.

“Yeah.” He nods, ignoring the furrow changing Richie’s face.

“Georgie is getting really good at p-pitching.” Bill says, holding an arm out to wrap around his brother and pull him close.

“Dad says that they don’t have underhand pitchers.” Georgie argues. Richie rolls his eyes and waves the complaint away. “I can’t do it like real players yet.”

“You’re fine, Georgie. Don’t listen to him.” Richie says.

“Will you help me?” Georgie asks again, watching him readjust in his seat. “It’s not that hot outside, Richie! Come on. Come play with me!”

Richie doesn’t know how to break the heart of a seven year old very well. “What do you want me to do, Hot Shot? Play some catch?” Richie’s voice sounds foreign. He doesn’t even think he’s speaking anymore.

“Teach me how to hit ‘em too.” Georgie says.

He hoists the too-long bat and it swings beside him. It’s like a pendulum, each motion forward dragging the seconds. Richie becomes hyper aware of every moment he never thought he’d lived to see if he hadn’t suddenly felt the pulse of numbness consume him one year ago in the sewers. When he felt every instinct to run dissolve in a blanket of consuming dread that if Richie didn’t do something then and now, he was going to lose Bill forever. He was going to watch him die, neck snapped and eyes forever locked onto his face.

Richie blinks and tries to regurgitate a response, a sure. He thinks he does. Georgie skips away, the bat dragging behind him on his way to the backdoor. Bill moves, legs lifting from him and folding under his own body. There’s a hand on Richie’s chest, as if trying to find his heart. He feels dead.

“Rich? Y-Y-You okay? You look like you’re g-gonna throw up.” Bill says with a half convinced laugh.

“I’m fine.” Richie says and pushes himself off the couch. He grabs his shirt and puts it back on, hoping to dull his thrumming skin. Bill calls after him, trying to get him to tell Georgie to wait five more minutes.

Bill doesn’t like when Richie leaves him when he’s upset. Richie had been making a habit disappearing when his mind fogged and the world drifted from his grasp. In May, he came to standing at the edge of the quarry, staring down at the still water with the moon reflecting back up at him. Richie knew then and now that he wasn’t going to do anything stupid-- anything that stupid. Standing there was just the most relaxing for Richie. He was able to look down on something and be just as distant and microscopic as he felt. He got to float.

Richie walks out back to see Georgie fumbling with the bat. He can’t hold it up with one arm very well. It’s too heavy for him. Richie walks over and places a hand on the top of his head, rustling his hair. Georgie tries, with endearing extra effort, to hoist the bat up to Richie. He holds it for only a second before it wobbles and dips with imbalance, falling into Richie’s side.

It doesn’t hurt, but Richie cries out and jumps away. The wood is hard on his skin, even in the brief brush against him. He can feel the varnish rubbing against his hands all over again, a blister forming in the mixture of friction and heat. He grasps at nothing. There’s nothing in his hand, nothing to protect himself.

Richie blinks and everything feels dark. His arms feel glued to his sides, but everything feels unable to stop. He knows Georgie is talking to him, he can hear his voice but none of his words. He can’t see Bill. There are no blue eyes to spot him in the darkness, no hand to guide him to the surface, no one to know that Richie’s gone from conscious reality. Richie floats away, body trembling both inside and out. He thinks he’ll fall apart on the grass-- body rattling down to its parts and Georgie pulling on his arm, trying to speak to him. His voice can’t ground him.

I will feast on your flesh as I feed on your fear. I will feast on your flesh. As I feed on your fear. Feed on your fear. On you.

Fear.

“R--Richie?” A hand grabs at his wrist. He screams, or at least he thinks he does. The sound just seems to swell in his throat silently. He’s too lost. He can’t come back down. “R-Richie, it’s me. It’s me. I’m here.”

Bill’s voice is light, it’s panicked but it’s light. It isn’t hoarse, not being choked out of him with a tight, white hand. Richie’s vision starts to trickle back, all the colors becoming saturated once more. He can see Bill right in front of him, hands on his face and eyes darting over every feature.

“W-What’s wrong?” Bill asks. Georgie has run into the house, scared and going to get the telephone. It’s just the two of them. Alone, but the backyard feels close to Richie, touching his skin. “Richie. Luh-look at me. I’m right here.”

Richie knows his eyes are focused on Bill. He just can’t see him yet. Not all the way. Not the way he likes too: with adoration and love, softness and intensity, with a look that tells Bill that he’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. But no. He’s just staring at Bill then. Dead eyes and a slack face.

“I can’t.” Richie breathes. “I can’t do it.” Richie isn’t even sure what it is, but at the moment it sure feels like everything is overwhelming. He tries to breath and it feels so full, like his chest is going to burst.

“D-Do what?”

“I can still feel it.” Richie’s arm twitches, his shoulder aching. A sports injury, he has to say to the doctor. He swung a bat too hard, he lies, really wanted a home run. He doesn’t tell anyone of the twitch he experiences at night, wide awake and the shadows of the cloudy night sky too dark. The twitch when he thinks he feels another hand on his shoulder, hand around his neck, harsh pull on his ankle.

“What?”

“I didn’t think I could do it.” Richie says, shaking his head. “I’ve never swung a baseball bat before.”

“Oh, R-Richie.” Bill’s thumbs brush over his cheeks. He pushes his glasses back on his nose and tries to smooth his hair. Richie lets him.

“I saw it sticking out of the pile. It was the only thing I could think to use.” He continues. “I saw you just... giving up. And I knew if you died, I would too. I felt everything inside me go blank. It went dark-- like all I had to do was let go and I could hurt him. I--I thought it was courage, but I was just scared. I was scared of having a living death.”

Richie would’ve had to grip that slick, bloody bat in his hand or hold a fistful of dirt before tossing it over Bill’s empty grave. It was easy then. Die saving Bill, because there was nothing else to live for.

“I’m alive.” Bill says evenly. “You’re alive. We’re all alive, Richie.”

It doesn’t feel like it, but Richie knows to trust Bill. He blinks twice and tries to find Bill’s face in his daze. He knows his eyes are tired looking and not right, but he can see Bill. Bill’s eyes are bright, but drained. He’s crying-- they both are. Richie barely notices. He opens and closes his hands, expecting something to materialize in his palm. Expecting him to be back in the sewer, the past year an elaborate nightmare as he floated upward, his neck limp and pupil-less eyes a faded amber color.

Instead, Bill grabs his hand and presses a finger into the scar slicing across his palm. It doesn’t hurt anymore. In fact, it doesn’t feel like anything.Nothing does. Bill’s fingers dig against it, trying to find the dip in numbness to find the delicate tendons of his hands.

Richie knows Bill has an identical one on his own hand. His is thicker, raised further off his palm. Richie feels every time Bill touches him. It traces along his back when they sit and watch TV together, it pushes against his palm when they grip each other tight during long walks, it runs along his arm when Bill gently tries to get his fleeting attention-- but it isn’t on Richie then. He can’t feel it.

Richie rolls his wrist and grabs Bill’s hand in his own. His thumb pushes along the scar, feeling the rounded, thick skin. Bill has a scar because he lived-- they all did. They spilled blood on their own terms. The slick feeling and Richie’s hand is recognized to be sweat-- not blood. Not blood.

Richie comes back to himself in a heavy exhale. He collapses into Bill, eyes closing and glasses being knocked off his face. Bill catches him and they slowly ease down onto the grass. The sun is warm on Richie’s face. It isn’t dark.

Richie learns that day that he isn’t ready to face a baseball bat yet. He isn’t ready to hold the same weapon he’d felt his childhood die with. He wasn’t sure when he was going to be ready, if he ever would be. Holding a bat would mean Richie had moved on from his trauma, that he wasn’t in the midst of mourning the loss of every trembling touch he had to reject and push away because his skin began to feel faded and washed off. Or that he wasn’t thinking about every day he and Bill spent sitting in his room, silent but sharing the same terrifying thoughts with tears. Playing baseball meant that Richie felt like he could use a bat for fun, that it no longer made him think of the first time he had to learn, right then and there, how to swing it with deadly accuracy.

Richie learned how to play baseball trying to save Bill’s life. He couldn’t teach Georgie anything. It was just fear: heavy and sweet, and worth every bite.

ao3

#richie tozier #implied bichie too #it writing #it fics #prompts

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coffee-n-some-cream · 7 years

Text

Fair is Foul - Chapter 4: Nothing Is So Painful to the Human Mind as a Great and Sudden Change

I’m afraid. So afraid. I don’t know where I am, where I’m going, what I’m doing. All I know is that I have to keep running. Keep running further and further until it can’t get me anymore, until it isn’t happening anymore. I need to keep lifting my legs, keep snapping twigs beneath my bare feet, keep ignoring the tears mingling with sweat on my neck, keep breathing, breathing, deep breaths, just take deep breaths, it’s all going to be okay.

But it’s not okay. Oh god, nothing is okay.

I used to think that this forest, the singing of the birds was beautiful. Now the cheerful melody is wrong. Mocking. I don’t think I should be able to hear the birds. How can I hear anything over their screams? Their screams… So loud. They were crying, screeching, struggling. I once heard the sound of pigs as they were being processed through a slaughterhouse. It sounded like that. Shrill, grinding, desperate. And over everything else, the whirring of the large, black machine that he was dropping them into. That he was pushing them through. That he… he… He.

How could he do this to us? I’ve never felt hate quite like this before. It burns inside me. I hate him. I hate him I hate him I…

I stop running. My feet are bleeding from running without shoes, my breaths are coming too fast. I bend over and bouts of chunky paste and mucous tear themselves out of my throat and plop onto the grass. I need to keep going. I need to get away from here.

I need to go back and help them. My brothers and sisters. I need to.

No. I can’t help them. I need to keep running. I need to live on. For them. I begin to run again, but the screams are so loud. How do I run with the screaming filling my head, with the tears, with the bones snapping and the blood gurgling, and the image of my sister disappearing into the machine and coming out as a pile of bloody flesh and hair? How do I run with that filling me up inside?

I can’t see straight. I can’t feel my legs. I can’t hear my own breathing. I can’t even hear the birds anymore. I have to get away. I have to get away from their screams.

“Do you know how you are still alive? Natural selection. The process that allows those meant to live, to live, and those meant to die, to die. You are still here because you were meant to live. Aren’t you lucky?”

He is standing over me. I can hear his breathing, I can smell the sanitizer on his hands. I can’t see anything human in the circle of pale light that reflects off of his glasses.

I am a Cyber. We are brash.

“You are not human,” I tell him.

He smiles. His lips pull the skin of his face upward into wrinkles. “You are correct, little one. I am not human.” He leans toward me. “I am God.”

“My brothers and sisters. They were human. And you killed them.”

He is fiddling with something now. The straps that are restraining me to the bed. He tightens them.

“The Cyber? Human? No, no, they were not human.” He sounds distracted, as though our conversation is merely an afterthought to what is happening within his mind. He turns to me, crisp movements, matter-of-fact. “They were monsters.”

I blink hard as he turns away to meddle with something at a nearby table. A syringe. He fills it with a bright yellow liquid.

“And so are you,” he says, turning back to me with syringe in hand. “A monster, that is.”

“I don’t feel like a monster.” I’m getting tired of the conversation, it’s not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the screaming. The grinding. The blood and bones and hair and tears. I fix my eyes on him. “I hate you.”

His eyebrows raise in something like disdain. “You see? Hatred. A monster’s emotion.”

“I don’t care if we were monsters!” I’m screaming. I can hear my voice echoing around the room. I’m crying. I can feel the warmth of the drops as they fall onto my ears. “I don’t care! You killed them! You killed them all! How could you?! They didn’t deserve it! None of them deserved it!”

He reaches over to the table as I spew my words at him, grabs a large blob of cotton, and shoves it deep into my mouth. I gag on it.

“Of course they deserved it,” he says, “Monsters are naturally deserving of death.”

He inserts the syringe into my arm and the pain begins.

“Again, what are you?”

I scuff my foot against the leg of the chair I am seated in. My hands are folded in my lap, my back is straight, my head is held upward but my eyes are restrained to the floor. I am the picture of obedience. I am the way he prefers me. I take a breath to answer, I hesitate not a moment.

“I am a monster.” They’re just words. Just words. Saying them doesn’t make them true. That is what I tell myself. I used to refuse to say the words at all. Now I know that it’s preferable to the pain. I glance up at the syringe on his desk. The acidic yellow hisses at me from inside the clear glass.

“And what do monsters deal in?” He paces around me in a circle, slowly, oscillating in the constant threat of his presence.

“Monstrous things.”

“What things are monstrous?”

“To need, and only that. To understand what we are told, and only that. To be content with what we have, and only that. To feel no emotion besides hate.” I take in a deep breath and hold it.

He pauses in his rotation in front of me. He reaches out, his fingers snag my face in a vice-like grip. I flinch.

“You forgot one, my dear.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I hate to say it. I hate to say it, I hate to so much. I hate him even more. But the pain… I open my eyes and look at him. “To be naturally deserving of death.”

He smiles. “Very good.”

The feeling of pleasure that fills me upon hearing his praise makes me want to throw up.

It is my thirteenth birthday. I sit in my room, alone, I stare at the blank wall as pale midday light filters through my bedroom window. I watch the shadows of the trees outside dance along the wall. My siblings are frozen in time, frozen as the age they were when they were murdered. And I am forced to age without them, play out the stages of life without them, grow and learn and become without them. It is not just.

But justice is a human construct.

I rub my hand against the silky comforter on my bed. Despite its name, the soft bed covering has done little to comfort me. Still, I continue to push my hand across it, back and forth, feeling the fibers of it tickle my skin.

A knock against the door startles me. It opens, and he is there. I stand at attention immediately. I must make sure to show him respect, or else he will be displeased.

“Happy birthday, Cybersix,” he says, low and smooth.

“Thank you,” I say, unsure of why he is here or what he wants from me.

“I have a present for you. Come.” He steps out of the doorway and back into the hall, beckoning me to follow him.

I am confused. What could he possibly want to give me? I hurry after him, watching the back of his head as he walks, apprehensive. He is silent the entire way, and I do not ask questions.

He takes me to his lab. I do not want to be here. The last time I was here, I was in pain. So, so much pain. I don’t like these walls, these lights, the air that is filling my lungs, I don’t like any of it. I want to leave. But he brought me here, so I must stay.

“I have been working on this for quite some time,” he muses, more for his own benefit than for mine, “And it is finally ready.”

He brings me to one of the many connecting chambers in his laboratory, pushing the door open with what must be a purposeful dramatic flair. I hold my breath.

A cage sits in the center of the room, metal and cold. Tables are scattered around it, various equipment lies about. Blood from the half eaten carcass of what looks like a deer drips from the floor of the cage to the floor of the laboratory. The only other thing in the cage is a large black form. Its fur shines in the harsh laboratory lights, its chest rises and falls steadily in sleep, a single heavy paw dangles from between two of the cage’s bars.

“Isn’t he magnificent?” he says, gripping my shoulder with one of his bony hands. “I call him Data 7. A proud success.”

“What did you do to him?” I ask, “He looks like a normal panther.”

“Oh, he may have the body of a panther, but he has the mind of a human. The mind of Cyber 29, to be exact. I suppose you remember him.”

He says it as a throwaway comment, as though it does not mean the world to me. As though everything around me does not come to a halt. As though I do not feel my resolve crumbling around me, as though my emotions are not boiling over within my heart. As though he has not given me the most important thing in existence.

I fix my eyes on the slumbering form within the cage. I reach out. My hand trembles as it places itself on the paw that is left dangling outside the cage, timidly, softly. The cat does not awaken. He continues to sleep soundly, the rise and fall of his chest the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Brother. My brother.

“Thank you,” I find myself saying, to him. “Thank you, Von Reichter. Thank you for this.”

“Please,” he says, and he’s smiling again. “Call me ‘Father.’”

AO3

#my writing #fandom writings #ao3 #cybersix #cyber6 #au #data 7 #violence #blood #body horror #fair is foul #some kiddies get put through a meat grinder #and it scars our hero for life #but it's ok she has a pet panther now #happ birth cyber6

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