#looking miserably at my friends with big wet bug eyes

[crabussy]

AHH!!! AHHH!!!!! BAD FUCKING NO GOOD DAY!!! WHAT DO I DO!

#listen to my gibberish boy #looking miserably at my friends with big wet bug eyes #save me... #everything is Too fucking loud and my vision in my right eye is blurry I just realised. not good #and I fucked up on my psychology exam euauuuugh #does anyone have anything that could cheer me up... save me..

[fangirl-creates]

2 Weeks - An MvA One Shot

(Wrote this back in October but I figured I’d post it since I don’t have any problems with it—Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

She thought the whole thing had been just a bad dream, but when she woke up back in that cold dark cell, she realized it was still reality. She couldn’t understand how all of this had happened so fast—one minute she was about to get married to the love of her life, the next minute she was growing 50 feet tall, tranquilized, and sent to a Government Facility without her consent. But that wasn’t the worst part...there were monsters here. And she was considered one of them. There was no way she would be put in the same category as those...things. She wouldn’t stand for it.

About 2 more hours past and the front wall of her cell opened up, making her eyes squint to the bright fluorescent lights. A booming voice came from outside—“Rise and Shine, little lady! Time for you to go socialize with your prison mates!”

Susan recognized that voice all too well; The General. She stood up and finally saw him more clearly, a pleading look in her eyes. “Do I have to..?”

Monger let out a sigh. “If you’re gonna stay here, you should at least get to know your fellow monsters. Might be good for you all...”

“But I’m not a M—”

Monger put a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Now let’s get a move on..”

****

Susan was brought back into that same room, the one with the ‘open space’ and bright lights on the ceiling. The Monsters weren’t there, thankfully, so she had some time to relax. But when they eventually did show up, she wouldn’t have that feeling anymore. She slowly walked over to her table—the one that had been modified so it was the same size as her. She sat at the chair, closing her eyes as she took a moment to breathe.

The sound of a metal door opening made her flinch, but she kept her eyes closed regardless. She heard footsteps on the ground—their footsteps. She heard their voices, which ironically was the only thing ‘human’ about them.

“Ah there she is,” The Cockroach was heard, his British voice was still polite as ever, but that didn’t mean she didn’t mind his gross cockroach head and bulging bug eyes.

“Is she trying to mediate or something?” The fish man was next. He was the one she didn’t like that much. His tone wasn’t very...nice.

“Maybe she’s sleeping!” Next was the blob. He didn’t seem to know what was going on. Or maybe he did? She didn’t want to ask.

“Well, we should give her some space. This is her second day after all.” The Cockroach told them.

Susan quietly sighed with relief. She wanted them to stay away from her...or her fear would kick in again.

She heard them move to the table that was a few feet away from her rather large one. They were playing cards, their voices slowly faded into muffled whispers as she zoned out.

After a while, Susan fell asleep, one of her arms supporting her head while the other dangled from the table. B.O.B watched with curiosity as he slowly made his way up one of the table legs.

“I wouldn’t do that, buddy.” Link whispered.

“I just wanna say hello!” B.O.B replied as he got up to the top. He and Susan were only a few feet apart now. He slowly made his way to her face and gently tapped her cheek. “Helloooo?”

Susan stirred, fatigue quickly kicking in as she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw who was in front of her, she jolted awake, her entire body flinching as the chair moved a bit. She quickly made sure there wasn’t eye contact between the two. But this made B.O.B a little upset.

“It’s ok!” He smiled. “I don’t bite.”

“You could at least look at him, jeez…” Link scoffed. Susan’s behavior towards them all was expected, but that didn’t make him any less offended by it.

Susan took a deep breath and slowly turned her head to face B.O.B. She realized he was like a pile of silly puddy compared to her. So if she wasn’t this size, it would have been a lot more terrifying. But she realized quickly that she was a bit more intimidating in this state. She looked down at him, not bothering to force a smile just yet. “Hi…”

This made B.O.B smile, his face beaming. “So you said your name was Susan, right? No Monster name yet?”

“That’s right.” Maybe the General hadn’t told them about her ‘Mandatory name change’ yet. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Huh. What’s your story, Susan?” He asked.

“My...Story?”

“Like how did you become a Monster?”

“O-Oh...right.” What else did she have left to lose? They’d probably be the only ones who would understand anyway. “Well, I was at my wedding. And I went out to get some air, then my fiancé came out to see me~”

“Gross.” Link rolled his eyes, earning an elbow nudge from Dr. Cockroach.

Susan ignored him. “And then I was alone for a bit...then...a meteor came down and...crashed onto me.”

Dr. Cockroach suddenly sat up, looking up at her. “Did you say a meteor? As in...from space?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah…I guess something inside it did this to me…”

“Fascinating.” He took out a little notepad and wrote that down. “It’s a miracle that you even survived such a thing!”

“Pfff—big deal. I bet if a meteor hit me, I’d survive too.” Link put his feet on the table, leaning back.

Dr. Cockroach raised a brow. “I don’t think you understand the pain a gigantic space rock hurtling towards Earth would cause you, my friend.”

“Well she survived!” He gestured towards Susan. “I bet I would.”

“Mhmm..”

“Hey, Doc don’t underestimate me!”

“I never said I did.”

Susan just stared at them. They clearly had some history together, not that she bothered to ask.

A giant roar suddenly made Susan stand up in fear, her giant seat falling down.

“Not this again…” Link scoffed, yelling up to her. “It’s just Insecto! He’s not gonna hurt you, lady!”

Susan wasn’t convinced. Insectosaurus was the only one that was bigger than her—and she was 50 feet tall now! But when she noticed how annoyed Link was by her action, she managed to relax just a little. They had feelings, they weren’t human, but they had feelings.

Link leaped from his chair and made his way to the giant bug, soothing him with a voice a parent would use for a child. This seemed to calm the bug down, and Susan as well.

****

Normally Susan was asleep in her nice soft bed, but not today—not anymore. The Bed that would flip out of the wall was not very comfortable. Susan hugged her arms, sniffling as her cheeks were stained with tears. She didn’t know how many times she was going to cry herself to sleep, but no one she knew was with her. Her parents and Derek probably thought she was dead...or going to die. And even though that wasn’t the case, she was still miserable without them.

Dr. Cockroach could hear her sobs, his sympathetic side kicked in, and he pressed a little key pad, calling Monger to his cell.

Monger eventually made his way there. “Yes, Dr.?”

“Sir, would it be alright if I checked on Susan? She doesn’t seem so good.”

“That’s what I’m for.”

“Please..? I know what it’s like for her…”

Monger pondered at that for a second. “No tricks? No escape plans you need her for?”

“Honest.”

Monger gave him a stare for a second, then a nod as he led him to Susan’s cell, closing the door behind them.

Susan wiped her eyes, not turning around, her back to whoever was there.

“Are you alright, my dear?” He asked gently.

Susan didn’t respond, hugging her legs close to her.

Doc scurried up the wall and onto the bed, settling on the pillow. Her face—or rather, the top of her head was right across from him. He sat criss-crossed on the pillow, his hands together in his lap. He took a deep breath before speaking, his antennas going down. “Listen, I understand how hard all of this is for you. You’re completely cut off from the outside world, you have to stay in this prison and you’re unable to go out and see the ones you love.”

Muffled sobs were heard in response to that.

“B-But!! If you learn to appreciate what you do have—A Bed, Food, Shelter, Frie—” He cut himself off. “You’ll come to understand that...this place isn’t so terrible.”

Susan sniffled, turning to face him as she laid on her stomach. Her big watery eyes were fixated on the Doctor. It was at this moment she didn’t feel disgusted by his presence.

“Oh, my dear...look at you.” He frowned. “Here here, dry those tears.” He took off his lab coat, handing it to her. “It’s clean, I promise.” He reassured her.

She sniffed, taking the coat which was very tiny between her fingers. “T-Thanks…” She smiled, wiping her eyes with it. “Oh...I got it all wet..” She frowned, putting it down next to him. “Sorry…”

“Not to worry! I might as well go casual today.” He gestured to his dark grey turtleneck, making Susan chuckle lightly.

“Hey…” She frowned a bit. “I’m sorry if I’ve been...a little rude to you all. Behind all the looks, you’re all just people to and not just—”

“Monsters?”

Susan bit her lip. “I know I know...I feel like a horrible person…”

“It’s alright, my dear.” He placed a hand on her finger. “It makes complete sense knowing where you came from. Just make sure you tell Link how you feel. He might have been a tad offended by your words.” He cringed.

“Yeahhhh...I’ll do what I can.”

He smiled. “Well, I should let you get your rest now.” He began to leave.

“Wait! You’re a...scientist, right??”

“Yes…?”

“Do you think...you could help me? Maybe you could find a way to shrink me back to normal!”

“Oh dear...that is a tall order…”

“Oh…” Susan frowned.

“But that doesn't mean I won’t TRY!!” A maniacal laugh followed that statement. “I’d love to help you out! If Monger doesn’t try to put an end to our plan.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. And, Doc..?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks...for the talk…” She smiled at him.

“Anytime, Susan.” He nodded, leaving.

Susan laid back on the bed, now on her back. Sure, she wanted her old life more than anything. But if it didn’t work out, maybe she could learn to like this place.

#monsters vs aliens #fanfic #one shot

[thiswasinevitableid]

70 for sternclay, nsfw please :)

70: you’re planning my best friend’s wedding which we find out the day after you drunkenly hit on me at a bar and I reject you.

“God I hope this guy isn’t a jerk.” Dani plays with her hair as Aubrey fidgets with her phone.

“Hey, if he is, you’ve got me as back-up.” Barclay pats her shoulder reassuringly, “plus, like, you two are the brides. You’re the bosses of the wedding.”

“If we really were the bosses, we wouldn’t be working with a wedding planner in the first place.” Aubrey grumbles. 

There’s a knock on the door and Barclay stands, “I’ll get it, you two finish mentally bracing yourselves.”

He opens the door to find a tall, dark haired man with bright blues and a well-cut suit staring at him. Their expressions morph to shock and recognition at the same instant.

“Hi, hic, big guy, what’s your name?” The man’s blue eyes are noticeable even in the dim light of the bar. 

“Barclay.” He turns on his stool, giving the man a once over that he can’t help but notice. 

“You, hic, here, hic, with anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Want to, hic, be?” 

The man is clearly built under his v-neck t-shirt, and Barclay would dearly love to get a closer look at his ass. Trouble is, his ass is having a hard time staying balanced in that chair. 

“Sorry, blue eyes, not tonight.”

The man slinks away before Barclay can even ask if he wants him to call him a ride. 

“I’m looking for Aubrey Little’s residence?”

“You found it. She and Dani are in here.” He ushers blue-eyes inside, doesn’t envy him the look of suspicion he gets from both women. 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Little and Ms. Coulice, I’m Joseph Stern, and I’m here to help your wedding go off without a hitch.”

“Great. Let’s get this over with. Honey, can you go get the notes AH Dr. Harris Bonkers put that down!” Aubrey dives off the chair, grabbing a phone charger from the jaws of the ten pound white rabbit. 

As one bride opens up her laptop and the other re-cages a disgruntled small mammal, Stern turns to him.

“And, um, how do you know the brides to be?”

“Dani’s been my best friend since middle school, so I’m her man of honor and helping with the wedding planning.”

“I see. Oh, thank you Ms. Coulice.”

“Dani is fine.” Dani returns to her spot in the loveseat while Stern sits down in a nearby chair with her laptop. He reads for several moments without comment, Aubrey trading worried looks wh Barclay and Dani as he does. 

“Are these the specific venues you have in mind, or just examples of the type of location you’d like?”

“Mostly examples.” 

“Got it. Would you mind sending me these files? That way I can have them as reference when I’m looking into possible venues.”

“You’re not gonna, like, try to talk us into the Yacht Club or something?”

Stern looks at Aubrey with a warm, polite smile, “Ms. Little--Aubrey--, your father may have retained me, but my job is to make the wedding as close to what you want as possible. I’m not here to undermine you.”

“O-kay” Aubrey still sounds wary, but she and Dani relax as Stern goes over his planning approach with them and works out a tentative schedule of meetings. When he’s done, Barclay offers to walk him to the door. 

Just as he steps outside, he turns, “I, um, I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention our exchange last night to either of them. Or to Mr. Little. It’s not a habit of mine, I just had a bit too much, um, liquid courage.”

“You got it. Kinda feeling like I dodged a bullet myself.”

“Oh?” A dark eyebrow arches playfully. 

“Rather not sleep with the enemy.”

“Wh-did you miss the part where I said I was here to help them?” 

“Nope, but you and I both know it’s a lie. You’re here because Aubrey’s dad has a bug up his butt about this wedding causing a scandal or not being fancy enough or some bullshit, so he called you in to make sure it stays bland.” He sighs, “Look, Mr. Stern, I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but Dani is like a sister and Aubrey is one of my best friends; I’m here to make sure the wedding is actually what they want.”

Stern pinches the bridge of his nose, “is there anything I can to convince you I’m not trying to make them miserable?”

“Yeah. Quit.”

“Not a chance.” Is the immediate reply. 

“Well, there’s your answer then.” With that, he shuts the door. There’s a frustrated huff on the other side, and then footsteps fading away.

--------------------------------

Stern sighs, checks his appearance in the front window as he waits for Dani or Aubrey to open the door. He’s been working with them two weeks now, and while both women (and Dr Harris Bonkers) have warmed up to him some, Barclay remains polite but distant the times they’ve crossed paths. Lord almighty Stern can’t believe he almost slept with him. 

Yes, the man looks like his wet dreams made flesh and yes, Stern would like to ride him like a show-horse, but what a nightmare it would have made this whole assignment. Even if Barclay’s reasons insult him, he’s glad they’ve settled on keeping their distance.

Maybe this more casual look will help the other man see he’s not some stuffed suit out to ruin his friend’s wedding.

“Oh, you’re early.” Barclay opens the door with his usual pleasant but cool expression.

“No, I’m not. It’s three.” 

“Wait, shit really?” Barclay pulls out his phone as they walk inside, “damn, I must’ve lost track of time when I was cooking. Oh. Uh.” He looks at Stern, apologetic, “and I have a text from Aubrey saying she and Dani had a change of plans and won’t be here until seven.”

“That’s not great, but it’s workable. I can leave and come back.”

“Don’t you live kinda far--uh, huh, she says for us to just test out the menu together and leave her and Dani some for dinner.”

“I guess we can manage tha--why are there ingredients and pots everywhere?”

“Because...I’m…Cooking?” Barclay glances sideways at him. 

“What happened to the entire conversation about caterers? When did they change? What’s-”

“Hold on.” Barclay raises one hand, voice calm and deep, soothing over Stern’s rising worries like waves over hot skin, “think you’re mixed up; we’re trying out the food for the rehearsal dinner today. The one I’m cooking. Not the reception.”

“Oh thank the lord.” Stern slumps forward on the counter, “I thought I was about to have a whole day of calling disgruntled employees to tell them to nevermind about a quote.”

“Nope. Now have a seat, look like you’re gonna pass out on Dani’s floor. You want something to drink? We got water, beer, iced tea…”

“Water’s fine, thank you.” He tracks Barclay through the kitchen as he retrieves a glass from an upper cabinet, shirt riding up to show a patch of a dark, fuzzy belly that Stern instantly wants to feel pressed against him as it’s owner pins him to the nearest flat surface. 

Cooking seems to relax the other man enough that he actually chats with Stern, rather than keeping their conversation focused on the wedding. Stern learns he’s a personal chef and cookbook editor, though his original background was in baking. 

“Okay man, I gotta know” Barclay stirs something cardamom scented over the stove, “what’s with the shirt?”

“It’s from the radio station that first broadcast the story of the Michigan Dogman.”

“The what?”

“The Michigan Dogman, it’s a cryptid, um, nevermind” he curses himself for choosing casual clothes, “it’s niche and nerdy, you don’t want to hear about it.”

“Wrong, now you gotta tell me everything.” Barclay grins at him over his shoulder.

So he does, gradually at first in case Barclay regrets pushing this geekery button and needs to change the conversation, but the other man simply listens, really listens, as he cooks while Stern talks about his journey to the radio station and his talk with the DJ who accidentally started a legend. 

They keep talking as they eat, swapping travel stories and book recommendations, Barclay laughing when Stern shares some of the more ridiculous requests he’s gotten while working as a wedding planner. 

When Aubrey and Dani arrive home, they take one look at him and Barclay, stopped mid-anecdote and smiling at each other, and trade a surprised glance. 

All Stern can think is you and me both.

------------------------------------

The planning goes more smoothly after that night, Barclay beginning to trust Stern more and more. Stern also learns that he trusts Barclay’s judgement , and the other man is invaluable in helping him narrow down options to present to the brides, both of whom are overall pleased with his work.

He’s particularly proud of his find for the wedding venue. The Madonna Inn is perfect, brightly colored and fancy but still just a bit kitschy, like the locations Dani originally showed him. Both brides were overjoyed, which is why all four of them came down for the weekend to make preparations and start scoping out vendors for the food and flowers.  Dani and Aubrey went back up to the city Sunday night, but he and Barclay are staying at the inn the rest of the week, Stern in hopes of having everything scheduled and coordinated and Barclay there in case he needs a second set of eyes (he’s working on a new cookbook and his clients are traveling, so taking the week down the coast is no trouble). 

Today has been a work day, but Stern is taking tomorrow off basically because no one has time to meet with him. So after a late afternoon spent lounging on the beach, the two of them go out for a leisurely dinner. On a whim, Stern lets Barclay select and order his meal for him. He doesn’t mean for it to be flirtatious at first, he just trusts Barclay’s culinary instincts and is tired of making decisions. But one look at Barclay’s face, his widening pupils and sudden blush, tell Stern all he needs to know. 

“You gonna be good and eat whatever I give you?” Barclay murmurs, so low he’s almost inaudible under the clank of silverware and hum of conversation. 

“Of course.” Stern puts on his sweetest smile, shores up his defenses against the self-doubt curling up his spine. He’s not fast enough, and so orders another cocktail. 

Halfway through the meal, he notices Barclay watching him, and another piece clicks into place; the cook keeps eyeing his lips and throat as he eats, often shifts in his chair if Stern makes a delighted noise after a bite. When dessert comes, the accidental sounds are replaced by deliberate ones and he luxuriates as he eats his tiramisu, licking the fork to be sure not a drop of cream is wasted. 

Barclay asks for the check, and two more slices of cake to-go, without ever taking his eyes off of Stern. He’s feeling confident, and a bit wobbly, as Barclay drives them back to the Inn, taking the larger man’s hand and pulling him towards one of the beds before he can even get the lights on.

A large, gentle hand on his shoulder, “no can do, blue eyes.”

“But I, hic, we, hic-” the world goes sideways as Baclay unlinks their hands. 

“Go get some sleep, Joe.”

He changes while Barclay’s in the bathroom, huddles under the covers and faces the window so the other man can’t see him burning top to bottom with shame. 

Things get worse in the morning; he’s awoken by a phone call saying the florist has an open slot to meet with him in an hour and so he throws on the nearest nice clothes and dashes out the door. That meeting is followed by a phone call from Mr. Little who is none to pleased with the location choice and Stern spends forty-five minutes convincing him that the Inn is perfectly tasteful and also it’s what the brides want and that counts for a great deal wouldn’t you agree?

His nerves are firing full-strength when he gets back to the room. Barclay, freshly showered and clothed, looks up at him from the bed where he’s thumbing through Cooks Illustrated, reading glasses perched on his nose. 

“Rough morning?”

“ Yes.”

He shuts the magazine “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you wanna talk about last night?”

“Also no.”

“Well, I do.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You simply aren’t interested in me that way and I’ve made an ass of myself twice by misreading the situation.”

“You’re wrong. You’re my type, blue eyes-”

“Clearly not, since-”

“-When you’re sober.” Barclay sits all the way up, “which is why I wanna know why you only flirt with me when you’re so drunk neither of us can try anything.”

“Because...because approaching people like that makes me nervous. I’m already under enough stress as it, running block for Aubrey and Dani against Mr. Little without getting myself fired, and the thought of trying to flirt, it’s, everything starts going wrong, it will all go wrong and-” the panic is back, his composure leaving him and taking whatever respect Barclay had for him with it. 

“Joe, breathe.”

“Breathing is not the issue here!” 

Barclay stands, face calm, and walks over to him. Instead of stepping in front of him, he circles behind, and a hand rests at the base of Stern’s neck.

“Let’s try that again. Inhale, blue eyes, a nice long one.” 

Stern complies, Barclay’s voice carrying no threats but leaving no room for protest. 

“Breathe out, count to four while you do.”

Stern exhales, nerves diverting energy from panic to desire, Barclays fingers on his skin and dominant baritone in his ear. 

“Good boy. Do it again.”

Stern takes another deep breath, then another, over and over as Barclay leads him to the bed and slips off his jacket, followed by his shoes and socks. 

“That’s it Joe, you’re doing so good.” He sits beside him on the bed, stroking his hair and Stern follows his touch, “what do you need? What helps when this happens?”

“Something to, to focus on, until I calm down. Just not work related or too complicated.”

“Hmmm” a thumb brushes over his lips, then down his chin, “I got a few things in mind, but they’re pretty damn dirty. Should we try something else?”

“No, please, I, I want that, want, want to be good for you like that.”

“Okay blue eyes, we can do that. You gotta promise me you’ll say ‘stop’ if something doesn’t feel good, okay?”

He nods, heart shaking his ribs, and Barclay leans and kisses him once, tenderly, before laying back on the bed, hands resting beneath his head.

“Get my dick out, yeah, there we go, good boy, I want you to use your mouth, can you, OH, ohhhhyeah.” His cock bumps Stern’s cheek as his hips tilt, a response to Stern lapping teasingly at the base. He drags his tongue all the way up the shaft, takes the head into his mouth, doing his damndest to lock eyes with Barclay the whole time. 

“Babe, fuck, that’s it, oh fuck you look good like that, knew you’d look good with my dick in your mouth, been thinking about it since that first night.”

Stern whimpers, hungry for more and pushes his head down. Having Barclay’s cock in his mouth forces him to keep his breathing measured, and so he savors it, senses filling with salt and skin and lingering hints of soap. 

“That’s it babe, nice and slow, we got all day. Long as I get to cum sometime before noon I’m happy.”

Stern rolls his tongue over the tip as he pulls off, switches to kisses and licks as he slowly jerks him off. Occasionally he skates up, nudging Barclay’s shirt with his nose--his hands uninterested in leaving his cock--so he can leave deep, longing kisses across his stomach and hips. Every movement elicits a groan or a sigh, every kiss and suck earns him praise. It’s only when his hands are slick with pre-cum and his own saliva that Barclay bucks his hips more intently, growling when Stern takes him back into his mouth. 

“Shit you’re good at this, not, fuck, not surprised, look like you would be, like all you need is for me to take care of you and you’ll open that fucking perfect mouth whenever I ask FUCK, oh you like that, don’t you babe? Fuck, shit, like the idea of taking what I give you?”

He whines, rubbing his thighs together as Barclay’s cock bumps the back of his mouth.

“You got three seconds to decide how you wanna take this.”

Stern locks eyes with him again, and dips down the barest bit more. Barclay’s hands tangle in his hair as he groans “good boy” and cums, bitter and warm, down Stern’s throat.

His hands flop onto the bed, allowing Stern to sit up. 

“Did...was I good?”

“So fucking good.” Barclay thwacks a hand dramatically onto his forehead to wipe it, “do you want to keep going? Or do you want to stop?”

“I want” Stern presses his hand against his cock, as if this will help rather than make him wetter, “please, can we keep going?”

“Yeah” Barclay sits up, kisses each cheek, “pants and underwear off, leave the shirt and tie.”

By the time Stern is appropriately undressed, Barclay is back on the bed with the to-go box and  a plastic fork. He reclines on the pillows, box on his upper chest, “come straddle me, knees about here” he pats the bed near his waist. Stern scoots up into position, Barclay licking his lips as he does. 

“Good boy. Now, you’re gonna show me how you get off, so I can know just what to do tonight to make you cry into the mattress.”

“Fuck.” Stern gasps, fingers already rapidly stroking his dick.

“Mmmm, look at how slick you are. Think that deserves a reward.” He spears a piece of cake, “open.”

Stern opens his mouth, leaning forward so Barclay can more easily feed him.

“You do like being spoiled. I can work with that.” Barclay rumbles, pleased, when Sterns fingers work frantically after a second bite. 

“Please, Barclay, I want to kiss you, please say I can kiss you.”

“Not until you finish.” 

“The, the cake or myself.”

“Yourself, blue eyes.”

He’s panting now, sweat soaking through his shirt, and slowing his hand and hips to take the bites Barclay offers. When he cums it doubles him over, and as he’s bracing his hands on the headboard, trying not to collapse on his partner, Barclay moves everything aside and cups his face, gently guiding him down to kiss him. They stay like that as Stern slowly explores his mouth, tastes leftover cake and laughs when a coppery beard scratches his neck. And when he begins to drop, breath shallow and fingers shaking, Barclay rolls them onto their sides, holds him close. Tells him over and over that he’s proud of him, that he did so well, that he’s right here and he’ll take care of him, give him whatever he wants. 

“Honestly, breakfast sounds better than anything else right now.” Stern mumbles against his chest. 

“I’ll order us some. You still need me to dom you, or are you ready to start calling the shots again?”

“I don’t call all the shots.” 

“Just most of ‘em. Don’t tell anyone, but I kinda like that about you. You’re good at what you do.” Barclay kisses his forehead. 

“I...I think I’d like to rinse off while you order breakfast.”

Barclay offers one more kiss before they roll out of bed, has Stern’s robe waiting for him when he gets out of the shower and brings him the room service tray as soon as it’s delivered. They lounge together on Stern’s bed, watching the Inn come to life as the afternoon draws near. From here, they can even see the spot where their friends will get married.

“The ceremony is gonna be perfect.”

“As perfect as I can manage, yes.”

“You got a date for it yet?”

“No.” 

“You want one?” Barclay smiles at him, the sunlight making him look as if he stepped out of a daydream and into Stern’s bed. 

“Depends; would that date be you?”

“Yep.” Barclay kisses his shoulder.

“Well then,” Stern grins, tips his chin up for a coffee-flavored kiss, “there’s your answer.’

#meet ugly #sternclay #agent stern/barclay #prompt fills

[lnc2]

i’ve been having dreams

Summary: Delirious and heat-stricken, Ladybug searches for Chat Noir and stumbles upon Adrien instead.

AO3

Adrien stared up at his cavernous ceiling, making shapes in the plaster and moonlight, reciting physics formulas in his head and doing his damnedest to keep his thoughts from wandering.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not entirely unusual these days, but annoying nevertheless.

Plagg said it had something to do with the miraculous.  At least, the parts of it that weren’t induced by his hormone-ridden adolescence. Which, really, was just an additional kick in the balls.  Being an alpha was difficult enough as it was– did his body need to add lack of sleep on top of it all?

But even if he wasn’t seventeen and less than a month away from his rut Adrien knew he wouldn’t be sleeping.  Not after he’d made such an ass of himself.

What was it about pretty pheromones that turned him from an otherwise perfectly rational being into a stuttering, forward fool?  He’d questioned his kwami on the matter, red-faced, head buried into his pillow as he tried to smother the memories from his brain, but Plagg only laughed at him.

“You’re a young kit, yet.  It gets easier.”

Which, while relieving to know, did nothing to quell the horrifying memories of the last twenty-four hours.  Raging hormones aside, he knew better than to let his mouth run away from him.  Or at least he thought he did.

But how else could he explain propositioning not one, but two of his dearest friends in less than a day?

The first he could probably forgive himself.  Adrien had been stupid in love with Ladybug the moment she stood up in front of the whole of Paris and told Hawkmoth to fuck off.  His heart was always running away with his tongue. Add in her pre-heat pheromones, sluggish hugs, and sleepy-eyed chatons it was hardly a wonder he’d gone and put his paw in his mouth.

It was the end of patrol, a patrol his lady really should have skipped out on judging from her smell alone, and she was curled up into his side, head resting in the curve of his neck, hair tickling beneath his chin and wreaking havoc on his nerves.  The smell of marigolds, wet soil, and rain filled his senses like a heady bouquet and he swore the most lavish gardens in the country had nothing on her .

“I’m so tired,” She murmured, eyes closed and nearly dozing.

“Far be it from me to send you away, but maybe you should head home, bug?”

“Don’t want to,” She said, turning her face into his neck, breathing deep.  “Comfy. Smell good.”

Chat’s ears were as hot as her breath on his skin.  “C-could say the same of you.”

“Pfft.” She sighed and he shivered.  “This heat is going to suck, chaton.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm,” Ladybug pulled away, eyes half-lidded as she looked out over the city.  “My alpha friend. The one who usually stays with me?”

Chat nodded, trampling the ugly, prickling sense of jealousy that crept up every time her other friend was mentioned.  By all accounts their relationship was platonic. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track her down and tear her out for getting to spend Ladybug’s heats by her side.

“She’s out of town.  I’m gonna be a lonesome bug.” She fiddled with her hands in her lap, shoulders curving inward.  “I’ve never been alone for one before.”

It was the pooch of her lips that did it.  The slight downturn of the smile he loved, the insecurity in her voice.

How could he help himself?

“You could spend it with me.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He blinked, horrified.

Ladybug pulled away from him and his tail twitched at the distance as she stared at him, more alert than she’d been in over a week.

“Did you just…?”

Chat grabbed at the edge of the roof, suddenly feeling very small.  He couldn’t meet her eyes as he asked, “Would that be so terrible?”

The silence was so thick he could feel it as he waited for her answer.  Chat nearly jumped out of his suit when one of her hands found his and clasped it in her own.  Risking a look at her, his heart fell at the sweet rejection in her smile.

Ladybug’s eyes were soft and sad when she shook her head.  “No, Chat. It wouldn’t be terrible at all.”

Stupid.  He was so stupid.

He must of said that aloud or she read it on his face because she squeezed his hand, hard.

“It’s not that, kitty.” She sighed, settling back into his side and leaning against his shoulder.  “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Hurt her?  Never.

Bite her? Well.

But he could control himself.  He could.

It would be safe, she would be safe with him.

“It’s just a lot to ask of you,” She said and Chat heard the undercurrents as loud as her words.

It would be too close to what he wanted.  Desperately. Painfully.

And god help him, she knew it.

Swallowing down his own feelings, Chat grinned, poking at her side until she squirmed away, giggling.

“What are partners for, LB?”

“Probably not that,” She said, gentle smile for a gentle rejection.  “But I adore you for offering.”

Just not enough.

Ugh, Adrien groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow.  Ladybug was even wonderful when she was letting him down. How the hell was he supposed to handle that?

But even being rejected (again) by his lady was not nearly as mortifying as what had happened at school this morning.

He couldn’t really blame his wayward heart for that mistake.

Adrien had come in halfway through the day thanks to a poorly timed photoshoot.  Doing his best to join the class without drawing too much attention to himself he slid in beside Nino and pulled out his notebook.  His friend, lifesaver that he was, passed him the notes from the morning without Adrien having to ask.

“Just let me know when you’re done,” He whispered as Ms. Bustier’s back was turned to the board.  “I need to make copies for Marinette.”

Marinette?

Adrien turned around to glance at their friend only to find her slumped forward over her desk, eyes barely open as she struggled to pay attention.  Beside her Rose was combing her fingers through her hair and rubbing slow circles over her back.

Alarmed, he looked towards Nino who grimaced and tore out a piece of paper from his notes. Scribbling a few words he passed it over.

Her heat is coming up.

Oh.  Adrien’s heart went out to his friend.  Having just seen Ladybug in a similar haze he knew the days just before it started could be brutal.  Hot flashes, shivers, listlessness– it really wasn’t fair.

Frowning he passed the paper back to Nino.

Should she be at school?

Nino shrugged.

Probably not. But you know Marinette.  Usually Alya is here to help take the edge off but she’s in Martinique visiting family.

Adrien grimaced.  Poor Marinette.

Heats and ruts were always rougher during adolescence.  The first few years being the worst as foreign hormones flooded the system, unfamiliar and overwhelming.  He knew from textbooks and friends that the worst of a heat’s effects could be abated by spending time with an alpha.  He also knew Marinette spent most if not all of her cycles with Alya since middle school.

God, no wonder she looked so rough.

“Would– would it help if I sat next to her for the day?” He whispered, once again glancing over his shoulder to their miserable friend.  “I’m not Alya but I could help.”

Nino looked stunned by his suggestion.  So much so that Adrien could feel his pride as an alpha bristling in indignation.  Sure he wasn’t the most aggressive alpha in their class.  He didn’t parade around with his chest puffed out like Kim or bark orders like Chloe.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help.

Between his friend’s incredulity and Ladybug’s rejection from the night before, Adrien wasn’t entirely sure what happened next was avoidable.

Collecting his things in one arm and grabbing his bag with the other, he stood up and mounted the steps to the bench Marinette and Rose were occupying.

“I can take it from here.”

Rose merely stared up at him in disbelief.  It wasn’t a challenge, not really. Any other time and Adrien would have recognized her stunned immobility for what it was.  As things stood, however, he took her stupor as a refusal and felt a low growl building in the back of his throat.

“Move,” He said, his voice brooking no refusal.

Rose squeaked and scrambled out of his way as Ms. Bustier scolded him for his interruption.  He ignored her and slid into the space beside Marinette. She seemed oblivious to the change as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“Let me help you,” He said, smiling gently, pulling her to lean into his shoulder.  She did so, willingly, slumping into his side with a quiet whine. Marinette smelled like warm bread, fresh flowers, and cinnamon.  It was thick around them, filling his senses.

The afternoon passed quickly from there.

It wasn’t until he and Nino had dropped Marinette off at the bakery after school that he realized he may have overstepped.

“Dude.”

Nino didn’t have to say anything else.  The amusement and accusation were more than present in his eyes.

I fucked up.

Plagg spent the afternoon laughing at him.  Teasing him about claiming his girlfriend in the middle of class.  About how pigtails would lose her mind when she realized just who she’d spent the afternoon cuddled up against.  About what Ladybug would think.

That’s when Adrien had chucked his pillow at the kwami and told him to fuck off.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.  He’d been helping out a friend.

It wasn’t a big deal.

And yet, here he was, half past 2 am and unable to sleep.

“Arrcg,” He groaned into his pillow.  Kicking his sheets off of his legs in a futile effort to expel his embarrassment Adrien nearly missed the sound of a thump against his bedroom window.

Lifting his head, his eyes widened as they adjusted to the familiar silhouette slumped against the window pane.

“Ladybug?”

No sooner was her name out of his mouth than he was scrambling from his bed, kicking his sheet-entangled foot that nearly had him faceplanting onto the floor.  He rushed for the window, knowing from the events of the night before and the way she was hunched over that she was in no condition to be navigating rooftops.

No sooner had he opened the window than she proved him right by toppling forward into his unwaiting arms.

“Oof ,” He grunted as her full weight collapsed into him.  He took several steps back, arms locked tight around her waist.

“Ladybug?”  Adrien reached up to feel her flushed cheeks.  She stared up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.  “Are you all right?”

“Sorry,” She murmured, not even trying to stand up.  “Too much.”

The smell hit him then, floral and musk and want.

Oh god, she’s reached her heat .

Panicking, Adrien searched the dark for Plagg only to come up empty.  Why did she come here ?

Ladybug shifted against him, lips moving faintly against his neck.  Repressing a shiver, it took him a moment to realize she was speaking.

“What was that, bug?”

“Chat,” She whispered and he froze.  “Need to find Chat.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped in relief even as his heart kicked into overdrive.  She didn’t know.

And still …

“You– you were looking for Chat Noir?”

She nodded, bangs brushing against the underside of his chin. “He promised.”

As if spurred by the thought she pulled away from him only for her body to sway into the window.  She held out her hand to keep upright.

“Whoa, hey there,” He said, reaching out to steady her.  “Ladybug, you can’t go anywhere like this.”

She shook her head, slowly. “Can’t stay.”

“Well I’m not letting you leave either.”

She frowned.  “But… your father–”

Adrien shifted his hold on her and she slumped into him. “Shh. He’s out of town.”

Ladybug nodded, eyes glassy. “Milan.”

He laughed. “I’m not going to ask why you know that.”

“Know a lot of things,” She murmured.

Adrien didn’t doubt it.

Tacit acceptance secured, he slipped his arm around her waist he helped her towards his bed.  There was no way he was going to let his partner swing across Paris in this condition. She would have to stay.

It said a lot about his lady’s state of mind that she barely protested even as he guided her to sit on the mattress.  Feverish and swaying, she merely blinked at him as Adrien rushed for his closet.

“What are you doing?”

He hummed as he rifled through his clothes and linens.  Grabbing every scrap of fabric that might be considered useful, he started bringing her scarves, blankets, sheets, towels, pillows– anything soft or pretty or vibrant.  Ladybug squeaked as he dropped the first pile of material at her feet before running back to the closet. He caught Plagg’s eyes glittering at him from the depths of his shirt rack but chose to ignore him.  He had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment than his irritated kwami.

Adrien ran his hands through his hair, heart pounding.

Ladybug was here.  For better or worse she was here and she would be spending this cycle with him. Or at least the night.

 Further still, she’d gone looking for him.

Well, Chat Noir, but still.

God, if he knew she’d actually take him up on the offer he would have… well he absolutely still would have made it.

He’d dreamed of spending Ladybug’s heats with her.  Bringing her courting gifts, watching her build her den, being welcomed there in turn.  Holding her close, whispering promises, making her his. Maybe, one day, in the far flung future when super villains and school and identities weren’t in the way – giving her pups of her own?

This was not how he thought this would go.  But like hell was Adrien sending her away now.

Steeling himself, Adrien left the closet only to nearly collapse back into it as caught sight of Ladybug shuffling around his bed, fluffing up pillows and laying out scarves, head barely visible over the wall of blankets she built up to bolster the edges of the mattress.

A whine escaped his throat before he could help himself.  Ladybug looked over to him with a welcoming, sleepy smile.

“Come here.”

Legs shaking, Adrien stumbled forward to the edge of her nest.  Ladybug reached out for him from where she was snuggled under one of his many comforters and tugged him tumbling into the bed.

His blood rushed through his ears as his heart tripped into overdrive as his lady wrapped her arm around his stomach and snuggled into his side.  Her breath was hot against his skin as she took him in, deep and even.

“Sorry,” She said, eventually, softly.  “For invading your space. I… I really was looking for Chat.”

You found him. 

“Don’t mention it,” He croaked.

There was no sleeping now, not with the feeling of Ladybug pressed against him cheek to neck to torso to thigh.  Not with her scent, heady and thick, filling the air, drugging him. Not with her soft sighs in his ear or whimpers as he shifted– as if she thought he would leave her.  As if he could.

God help him.  He’d never know a good night’s sleep again. 

Not with these memories at least.

Long after he thought she’d gone to sleep, Adrien stared up at the ceiling and willed his poor heart to stop skipping every time she so much as breathed.  True to his promise, he remained a gentleman, making sure that any particular… byproducts... of her proximity were under control. Or at least, as much control as a teenage boy could reasonably expect when plastered against the love of his life.

Which was why, when he felt her gloved hand gliding across his chest to rest over his heart, he nearly launched himself off the bed like a scared rabbit.  Fortunately, his pheromone drugged reflexes were slow on the uptake and he didn’t dislodge her too much.

Either way, Ladybug didn’t seem to notice as she buried her face in his neck and breathed, long and deep.

“Thought about this,” She confessed.

“This?”

Ladybug nodded. “Having you with me.”

Adrien suddenly found it impossible to swallow.  “M-me?”

Her fingers tightened at the fabric over his chest.

“Mmm, you.” She said.  “And Chat.”

“Chat?” He squeaked.

Ladybug frowned, eyes closed.  Some part of him, the part she hadn’t just shocked senseless, wanted to pull her closer, kiss away the furrow between her brows.  Fortunately or not, Adrien found he couldn’t move at all.

“Won’t happen,” She sighed. “Don’t think Chat could share.”

No, he absolutely could not. 

Then again, she wasn’t asking him to.  Not really.

“You never know,” He said.  “He might surprise you.”

Ladybug hummed, happy.  “Hope so. Would be nice.”

“Y-yeah?” He looked down at her only to find her smiling up at him.

“Two alphas?  My alphas?” Her eyes slipped closed and she nuzzled into him, lips brushing just beneath his ear.  “Lucky.”

Adrien would laugh if he didn’t feel like crying.

She’d be lucky? 

Ha. Hah.

Being considered her anything was enough to shut him down completely.  Only natural when every thought and feeling and wish his heart ever hoped to want was wrapped up in the woman who was currently wrapped around him.

His heart pounded, heavy and sluggish beneath her hands.

“I’d like that,” He whispered, finally. “Being yours.”

Adrien had been thinking of Ladybug as his for so long when all he really wanted to be was hers.  He was hers.  Whether she wanted him or not he was hers.

And she was here. 

Even when she didn’t know where to go, she found him.

His arms tightened around her shoulders, hugging her closer.  He could tell from her breathing that she was asleep. He also knew, from experience, that her transformation wouldn’t make it until morning.

Plagg floated out from his hiding place, green eyes inscrutable as he took in his charge.

“You sure you’re ready, kid?”

Adrien didn’t know.

He didn’t know if he was ready to find out who was on the other side of the mask.  He didn’t know if he was ready to wake up to blue eyes and sleepy smiles and revelations.  He didn’t know if he was ready for Ladybug to know how deeply and truly fucked he was over her.

But as she shifted into him, face buried in his neck, hand resting over his heart,

he knew he was ready to find out.

#miraculous ladybug #lnc2 writes #Aged Up #Ladrien #Ladynoir #Adrinette #Adrienette #a/b/o dynamics #alpha! chat noir #omega! ladybug #heat #take it i'm so tired

[starman-john-tracy]

Radiation Poisoning | Chapter Six

by @starman-john-tracy and @asteria-star

In which John Tracy gets exposed to uranium and nearly dies, The Hood is evil, and Star generally freaks out a lot.  

Chapters: [One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Seven]

The landing is a brutal one. Alan slams them down onto the Earth’s surface like he’s trying to squash a bug. It’s hardly his best, but he’s got them home safe. Star isn’t entirely sure that Alan finishes his post-flight checks, judging by how quickly he’s out of his seat.

They have John on his way to the medical bay before Star is out of her own. Her fingers are numb unbuckling herself, one hand taken up by John’s book. There’s medical waste littered in a perimeter of where John had been strapped down, Star stands, staring at it for a moment, all the bits and pieces Scott had brought out to save his life. It's a graveyard, for someone she hopes isn’t dead yet.

There’s something about your feet hitting Earth again after a stint in space, it sends Star to her hands and knees. She doesn’t spend as much time in Zero G as John does, even on Thunderbird Five, but its still enough to send her head spinning, the world still blurring before her. She watches John’s book swim in and out of focus before her eyes, stomach turning… though isn’t entirely convinced that wasn’t happening before.

Climbing to her feet is like moving in a dream, the ground slipping up and out from beneath her. She’s not entirely sure how long she’s wandering, until everything snaps back into loud, desperate focus, at the doorway of the medical bay.

There’s a desperate, rapid bustle of movement happening inside. Wailing alarms and bags of blood being hung and Virgil barking short, sharp commands for Brains to pass him the sterile fluid, to increase the oxygen flow, to hand him a scalpel. John’s burnt face is obscured by the oxygen rig and tilted away from her, but one of his arm’s is hanging loosely off the side of the Gurney, and she can see the limp way his fingers are slightly curled, drugged. There are absorbent pads being laid across John’s waist and taped into place, leaving a long, sterile rectangle of blotchy blood-bruised skin exposed in the middle of them, ready for operation. Virgil is pulling on a paper gown.

“Ah, no.” The little grey head of Grandma Tracy pops up beside her, taking Star by surprise so absorbed she was in the sight of her best friends laid out, pale and limp and swarmed by people trying to save his life. “You shouldn’t be in here dear.” Ruth Tracy takes her arm, ever so gentle, and leads her back out into the corridor. “We’ve got to keep things sterile, and you don’t want to see this. Come sit with Alan, Gordon and Kayo upstairs now,” She advises, soft and warm, “I’ll make you kids a cocoa, and we’ll wait to hear together.” 

“No, I-” Star starts to argue before her eyes catch on Virgil’s hunched shoulders, getting ready to-  cut John open. He’s busy, he’s saving him, and he wouldn’t want her there anyway. Grandma Tracy is right, she shouldn’t be here. She lets Grandma Tracy lead her stumbling steps back in the direction of the main house. She almost lets the older woman lead her all the way to the living room, before her gravity scrambled brain catches up to the fact that Alan and Gordon and Kayo will all be there too.

“I’ve got to- ah-” she worms her arm out of the surprisingly strong hold, pointing over her shoulder in the general direction of away. “I’ve got to, um… bathroom…” she looks down at herself, what she’s wearing at the blood. “And find some pants. I’ll be right there, okay?”

The sadness in John’s Grandmother’s eyes almost makes Star cry again, but she covers it up with the John Tracy I’ve got this smirk. It must work, or the other lady just doesn’t care, because she lets Star go. The house is deathly quiet, everyone either waiting in the living room or down in surgery, and the silence is too claustrophobic in that particular house. There’s usually music and laughter and the muted sounds of Alan playing video games instead of doing his homework. Never anything like this. Star doesn’t know how long it takes before she realises she’s standing at the end of the hallway, staring at the twin rows of closed bedroom doors.

Bare feet pad softly on the carpet, but it's still loud enough that Star is sure she’d be caught, if there was anyone else up there to witness the quiet. The handle to John’s room is cold and slightly dusty, but Star is beyond noticing the chill against her bare skin. She lets herself in.

The room is just the way John had left it, Star can see that even in the darkness of the door closing behind her. Posters of hubble photographs and celebrations of space launches are plastered on every available surface, peeling up at the corners in their age, and there are books everywhere. John’s piled them, one atop of another on his bedside table and desk, no room left on the bookshelf once their final pages have turned. There’s pictures too, some in frames and others tacked haphazardly in amongst the space memorabilia. The Tracy’s are smiling in every single one of them.

There's a photo of the two of them, one Star doesn't think she's ever seen, up amongst them. John with a small smile and a patient arm slung around her shoulders, Star grappling him round the waist and grinning.

The tears are welling in Star’s eyes again, but she wont let herself make a sound. She’s not going to disturb this place. She wants to run further, to disappear in a network of criminal connections and bad choices, but she doesn’t want to -can’t- leave John behind, even if his room is all she has of him. John has a glorified nightlight balanced on his desk, and when Star’s trembling fingers flick the switch it alights the ceiling with the night sky. Star folds herself into the corner at the foot of John’s bed, the book she’d brought with her clasped tightly to her chest. Her fuzzy head comes to rest on the barely made bed, the duvet not tucked in at the bottom, and she settles in to wait.

She’s not entirely sure what for.

It's a long time before anyone manages to find her, despite Ruth Tracy's best efforts. In the end it's Virgil, miserable and exhausted but alright enough with John's prognosis that he's happy to leave him with Brains so that he can go and have a shower, who taps his knuckles against John's bedroom door, with a strong idea of where the missing miscreant might be.

"Star?" A worry-worn face with dark, wet hair plastered down over his ears and a towel slung about his neck, sticks itself around the door frame. "You in here?"

There's a little blob of human in amongst John's thick space-chill curing blankets, small and curled and dampening his brother's pillows.

"Hey." He says, very soft and a little awkward, as he settles on the bed beside her, elbows on his knees. "John made it through surgery well. The radiation's done a lot of damage, but short term he's in the clear."

Star goes light headed with relief, a pent up whoosh of air leaving her chest. He’s not dead yet. He’s not dead yet.

A big, tentative palm settles, warm on her knee. "How you holding up?"

Because if it's anything like he's holding up, it's not great.

Star pulls her knee away from him, closer to herself, and Virgil can see her jaw working for a moment as if she’s going to say something of value. She doesn’t want him being nice to her, doesn’t need his pity for something he is going to find out is all her fault. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I’m not your patient, I’m not a civilian, and you don’t have to pretend you want to be here. It’s fine. You-”

Her burning eyes finally work their way up to Virgil’s face, and she freezes, mid tirade and all. She’s had what feels like a lifetime watching John through everything, from injury to illness to the self-inflicted disaster that is his sleep schedule, but Virgil wears it differently. The shadows under his eyes don’t belong there, not like this. He looks tired and stiff and all hunched over, like he’s trying to make himself smaller, like he’s trying to minimise the blast radius of his breakdown. It’s so unlike John, who stumbles loosely through whatever he’s done to himself with almost casual bashfulness, trusting Star to help him gather up all the little pieces of himself he’s dropped along the way.

And what a mistake he made there.

“Are you alright?” she murmurs, guilt for snarling at him adding to the acidic mess eating a hole through the pit of her stomach. “You look like you need to eat something and get some sleep.”

Vigil laughs. It's something dry and humourless and absolutely heartbreaking.

"I've just spent two hours cauterising my brother's major blood vessels so that he doesn't bleed out." He shakes his head, droplets from where it's wet flicking out, "No Star, I'm not ok. But... no one's expecting me to be." He takes a deep, ragged breath, "None of us are right now and I'm not expecting you to be alright either. And anyway, I'm not being nice to you." He adds, sounding almost offended. "Of course you're not a patient or a rescue or a civilian. Star, you're a friend." He resists the urge to touch her again, after his hand has already been slapped away. He's staring intently at his knees. "I know none of us started like this but, I'd hoped, by now, that perhaps you felt the same. You don't only care about John do you? And don't deny that, I can see how you're tearing yourself up over what's happened to him. I… us too, you know? You're not alone in this, even if, maybe, you want to be..." He trails off, miserably.

Star’s hand flops in the general direction of Virgil’s knee, halfway through the aborted motion of giving it a comforting pat, only to change her mind at the last second. It’s still shaking, even resting against the sheets, badly enough even Virgil can see it. Star doesn’t notice, too caught up by the traces of dried blood against her pale skin.

“Just because I think of you as a friend doesn’t mean you have to,” she murmurs. Her voice is low and tired and drained of anything resembling emotion, as if she’d somehow exhausted her supply somewhere between finding John’s helmet without him and re-entry. “Not after this. You shouldn’t have to look at me, not after I let this happen to John. I was up there, I was supposed to be there, that’s the whole reason I’m allowed to stick around, to keep him safe. Look what I’ve done to him.”

Star breaks off then, Virgil’s miserable frame hollowing out her chest and leaving behind nothing but a sharp sting. She lets the hand drift to his wrist, cold fingers giving his warm arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

“Of course I do.” Virgil seems almost offended by the suggestion that he might not consider them friends. He goes quiet though, for a long moment, letting her explain all the wrongs she thinks she’s done against his brother. He doesn't like the degradation in her tone. “I… I don’t think you did any of it on purpose.” He wants to take her hand and give it a squeeze, like he would any of his brothers, but he also doesn’t want to get slapped away. “I don’t think you wanted any of this to happen, so of course I’m not going to blame you or hate you or whatever it is you’ve got into your head.”

“Are you going to keep hiding in here?” He adds, looking around the dusty, safe space of his brother’s abandoned room, “I don’t think it’s helping anyone, really, definitely not you and least of all me or the guys.” Not that he’s told Scott about her role in all this. He doesn’t intend to either. Scott’s a hot head who likes to react without thinking. “Do… do you want to go see John? We should get you cleaned up if you do.” He’s noticed her staring and the red-brown still flaking off her fingers, stuck under her nails. “Everything in and out of that room needs to be one hundred percent sterile. Do you feel up to a shower? John should be awake soon and I think it’d be a comfort to him to have you there.”

…

Virgil is always so bright, even though it’s not Gordon’s garish shirts and Alan’s non-stop talking. He’s always there with a kind word and a solution that just seems to fade into the background of everyday life, with no demand for credit or thanks or anything at all in return. He tells people he’s not okay to convince them to admit they’re feeling like shit, not because he’s expecting anyone to worry about what he’d just said about himself. Star had always chalked it up to being the middle child, but to see him still trying to make her feel better, even when it’s his brother who is sick, and she’s spent the whole evening snapping at him, makes her feel a different sort of sad. He has his brothers, of course, but he just seems so big that this kind of lackluster emotion should be impossible.

I’m not going to blame you, he tells her, do you want to see John? He’s offering her everything she needs to hear, even the things she’s sure at least some of the others wouldn’t give her.

Star wonders what it is he needs.

She drags herself upright, fighting the punishing grip of gravity that sends her head spinning and her entire body trembling. Re-entry without preparation, without John’s usual barrage of supplements and reassurances and have you drunk enough water? without… without John, is rapidly trying to ruin her plan, but Star is nothing if not determined. She wants to tell Virgil yes, I want to see John, and make him assure her she’s not going to make anything worse.

Instead, she clumsily drags herself over to the bigger Tracy and pulls him into a hug.

There’s a short, sharp gasp from Virgil, and it takes a second or two for his brain to kick into gear enough to actually respond.

“S-Star?” His heart is doing double time, loud against her cheek. “I… ok...” Big, warm arms wrap around her back, ever so carefully cradling her close. “It’s… gonna be ok…” There’s a sharp gasp of breath and Star feels his chest shudder. The arms curl a little tighter. Shower-wet hair tickles her cheek as Virgil buries his head in her shoulder, clinging, just for a moment. Star’s not the only one trembling, it turns out.

“God.” Virgil breathes, hot into her collarbone, “Hell. I can’t believe I just… shit.” His voice rises in pitch with each word, “John. Fuck.” It’s not particularly like any of them to make expletives part of their casual vocabulary (Grandma would wash their mouths out with soap for one) but Virgil thinks that, just this once, he can have an exception. “I had to… damn it.” The wet hair shakes against her cheek, everything that’s happened in the last twelve or so hours catching up with him all at once.

He’s poked, prodded, cut into and stuck his brother with more needles than he’d thought possible, drawing blood for analysis, taking images of his bones and musculoskeletal structure and soft, swollen tissues, examining his cells for radiation poisoning, and turning poor John swiftly into a human pincushion. His brother’s small veins and aplastic anemia had made Virgil’s job more difficult, and he just knows that by now there’ll be prominent, spreading purple bruises all up and down the astronaut’s arms as grim souvenirs. He knows they won’t be the last of them, either.

Virgil shivers, hard.

The Laparotomy, the surgery he’d had to perform to correct John’s internal bleeding, sealing off his brother’s weak, leaking blood vessels, has taken more of a toll on the dark haired Tracy than he’d thought. Virgil squeezes his eyes tightly shut, for a moment, before pulling back and pressing his mouth hard against the young woman’s temple. 

Get it together Virg. Come on. They need you.

“Right.” He sucks in another breath, this time through his teeth, trying to force some semblance of control over himself. “I’m ok.” It’s a lie, blatantly, “I’m fine.” He seems to think that if he says it enough, it’ll be true. He unravels himself and holds Star at arms length, eyes raking over pale skin and dark circles, mussed hair and smudges of blood that isn’t hers. “You?” He needs to take care of someone right now, and he’s done all he can for John. That’s just the way Virgil is. Getting Star back up on her feet will help him bring back some semblance of control and normality, if only she’ll let him.

Star would have let him cling for the rest of the night, if that’s what he’d wanted, tucked up against his broad chest with one arm hooked around his shoulders, the other hand coming up to rest in his hair. He mutters, more to himself than her, Star knows, her cheek pressed up against the side of his jaw. His hair is seeping into her shirt -John’s shirt- and if it makes Virgil feel better, Star can’t even begin to bring herself to care about it or the vertigo or the fact that, while hugging him, she realises just how skinny John’s gotten by comparison.

Virgil shivers, full-bodied, and Star feels his lips against her temple before he holds her out at arms length. She manages to rally the strength to raise an arm, hand planted firmly against the side of his face, her thumb stroking gentle tracks across his cheekbone. There’s nothing to say, not you’re alright or everything’s going to be fine, because Star knows a lie when she sees one, and she can already taste its bitterness on her tongue.

“Right, ok. There’s an electrolyte drink, a shower and a good night’s sleep with your name on it waiting for you, and you are going to do all three.” He insists, before she can complain, “Doctor Virgil’s rules. We’ll go see John before your nap though, or you’re never gonna be able to drop off are you?” There’s a wry, tired grin, “I’ll even let you sleep up here if you want. John won’t mind. It’s not like he ever uses it anyway.” And that comes out far more bitter sounding than he’d intended it to. “Ah, sorry.”

 “And are you going to sleep at all during all of this?” Star muses, blinking fuzzily against the swirling room.  She’s gripping his arm, not just for comfort, but to make sure she doesn’t fall over.

Star grimaces at the sharp edge to Virgil’s words, but doesn’t say anything about it, just lets her hand drop back into her lap. It’s not like she even wants to sleep up there, but she’s not sure how she’s going to swing camping out in the medical bay, yet, or if she’s even going to try and swing it, yet. John might not want her there, and anything he wants…

She forces a watery smile to her face, for Virgil’s sake.

He looks almost reassured by it.

“The household is taking it in turns to watch over John.” He tells her, wearily, “I’ll sleep when I’ve done mine, and if you’re joining me, you will too. Now, shower.”

#RadiationRPwithStar #<333333333 #thunderbirds

[lifeflowingon]

| QUICKSILVER | 14 |

• SUMMARY: After a student is gruesomely murdered on campus, Baek Haeju finds herself trying to extract information from the only person who might know the truth. But is secretive English major Min Yoongi just a witness? Or is he the culprit?

• WARNINGS: Death, murders, kidnapping, violence.

• WORDS: 2595.

"What if we've been trying to get to where we've always been?

What if I was wrong, and started trying to fix it?

What if you believed me? Everything is brilliant."

Simple Math | Manchester Orchestra

"You've been so quiet," says Haeju as Yoongi parks the hearse in front of her apartment building. Yoongi clutches the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on something that Haeju can't see.

"Sorry," says Yoongi halfheartedly.

Yoongi hasn't said a word since they woke up next to each other this morning; he keeps giving Haeju desolated, angry looks, but he refuses to say what is going on. Haeju wonders if it has anything to do with Pica's phone call.

"Will I see you later today?" asks Haeju hopefully.

"I have stuff to do," says Yoongi abruptly.

Haeju leans in and kisses Yoongi on the cheek, her lips brushing his ear as she pulls away. Yoongi faces her and kisses her on the lips, the kiss desperate and hurried, the kiss sending chills down Haeju's spine. Their tongues are battling, fighting against something, and Haeju wants to cry.

"I love you," whispers Haeju, running her fingers through Yoongi's hair.

"Do you, really?" asks Yoongi miserably.

"Yes, yes, don't ever doubt that," smiles Haeju. "Talk to you later?"

Yoongi nods, but keeps looking at her in the same miserable way. Haeju gets out of the hearse, holding her bag close to her as she watches Yoongi drive away. She needs to call Chaerin, she needs to talk to her about everything that is going on.

She needs to talk, period.

Haeju can't deal with the heaviness in her heart any longer; she needs to tell Yoongi the truth. She chickened out last night, she couldn't do it this morning, not with all the members of Acuity as witnesses. All of them were giving her such warm looks, like she's one of them now.

Which she is, but not really.

She finally gets to her apartment, tired and sad, and she unlocks the door wearily. The sight that greets her is not a welcome one; in fact, it's the last thing she needed. Haeju drops her bag, the door wide open, and Jungkook looks up to her, papers and photographs scattered on the coffee table.

And in the middle of it all, the picture of Yoongi and Haeju kissing, their eyes closed blissfully.

"What are you doing here?" protests Haeju. "Did you go through my things? How did you-"

"I interviewed Chaerin a few days ago," says Jungkook emotionlessly. "Told her not to tell you. And I asked if I could have her key... she gave it to me. I can be persuasive."

"But-"

"I had this feeling that you had been keeping stuff from me," continues Jungkook, still looking at the pictures. "I was right."

"Jungkook," starts Haeju, but Jungkook shakes his head as he laughs cynically.

"You were hooking up with him all along," says Jungkook venomously. "I can't fucking believe this. How many times have you lied to me, Haeju?"

"Let me explain," says Haeju, closing the door. "I never meant for it to happen, I-"

"You look so happy in these pictures," says Jungkook, sounding extremely tortured. "Did you think of him whenever you were with me?"

"It was never like that!" insists Haeju, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"I love you, Haeju," says Jungkook, dropping the photos on the ground. "And you cheated on me... and then you just broke my heart like no big deal. What kind of person are you?"

Haeju says nothing; she merely starts sobbing as Jungkook stands up, his fists clenched. "I have the story," says Jungkook, sounding broken. "I'm writing about Acuity. I just need..."

He walks closer to Haeju, grabbing her by the collar, and Haeju is suddenly afraid. But Jungkook pulls out something from her jacket, a tiny black thing that looks like a bug. A bug.

A tiny, miniscule recording device.

"Jimin got me this," he says icily. "She doesn't trust you at all. And now I see why." Jungkook presses something and Yoongi's voice comes out loud and clear.

"We just hack into the school's system and mess with admissions. Hardly a horror movie subject. Did you expect us to feed you blood?"

Jungkook clicks again and Yoongi's voice vanishes, leaving nothing but tension in the air. Haeju feels horrified at this, and Jungkook should look happy about this, but no. He still looks betrayed and beyond furious as he steps back, his eyes surveying Haeju.

"I don't ever want to talk to you again," says Jungkook spitefully. "You've betrayed me and... I just can't see your face anymore. Tell your friends to get ready to face expulsion. Maybe we didn't find out who killed Park Yangmi or Tark Yon, but this is enough for an award-winning story." His eyes lock on Haeju's neck, and she knows Jungkook can see the marks that Yoongi left on her skin.

"Did you... have you slept with him?" he gasps incredulously. Haeju stays silent, and realization dawns on Jungkook's face. "I was such a fucking idiot. Wow."

Jungkook walks to the door, his hand resting in the doorknob, and he chuckles dryly. "To think that I was feeling guilty for making out with Anya last night," he says, irony in his voice.

Jungkook leaves the apartment and Haeju sits on the couch, trying to feel nothing.

xxxx

Chaerin isn't answering her phone, and Haeju is tired of leaving messages. Yoongi isn't answering his phone either... and none of the Acuity members seem to want to answer her calls. She hangs up, her wet hair feeling cold as the wind hits her face, and she can't walk fast enough. She shouldn't have taken that shower, that was a waste of time. Haeju has to warn Yoongi about Jungkook's plan to publish the story about Acuity, and she needs to come clean about everything.

"Baek Haeju!"

Haeju turns around and sees Soojin walking over to her, closely followed by Tae. Haeju opens her mouth to speak but she has no chance to say a word; Soojin slaps her hard across the face and Haeju loses her balance, her body hitting the ground.

"How dare you?" says Soojin, and some students passing by seem alarmed. "How dare you betray us this way?"

Tae is hiding behind Soojin, his eyes filled with tears, but he's also looking at Haeju in utmost contempt. Haeju gets on her feet clumsily, rubbing her cheek, and she feels defeated.

They know.

"I can't freaking believe this," snarls Soojin, moving closer to her, every step menacing. "You were working for Jeon Jungkook all this time? When we were summoned for an emergency meeting and I didn't see you there..."

"How could you?" squeaks Tae, and now he looks sad.

"I can explain," says Haeju frantically, and Soojin shakes her head.

"No, we know enough," says Soojin coldly. "Anya told us everything. She's Pica; you must know that by now. Jungkook has been working on an article about Acuity for months and you've been giving him information. Do you know what this means? You've ruined our lives!"

"I swear I was going to tell you guys," pleads Haeju. "I swear that I wanted to get out of this. I couldn't say no to Jungkook and-"

"Whatever," says Soojin darkly, and she grabs Tae by the sleeve as they start to walk away. "You're going to regret this!"

So... they know. Haeju's heart is thudding painfully inside her chest, and her insides go numb. She thinks of Yoongi sitting there, listening to Anya tell them everything about Jungkook's article. Telling them about how she found them earlier the previous day, all cozy and what not.

Anya was the one who called Yoongi last night, she knows that now. But so many questions are going through Haeju's head, and she needs some answers. But soon she finds herself at the doors of Ross Hall, and she dreads the confrontation that is about to happen.

Chaerin sends her a text, asking if everything is okay and if Haeju needs her to come over, but Haeju quickly declines Chaerin's suggestion. She will need her best friend, yes, but maybe later.

She hesitates when she reaches Yoongi's door, and she wonders if he's here. She wonders if he'll even want to talk to her, but there's no time left. The paper will be sent to the printer tonight, if memory doesn't fail her, and maybe they can do something to prevent the publishing of the article.

Haeju knocks, waiting for a response. She hears some shuffling inside the room, some subdued voices, and Hoseok is the one who greets her.

"You." Hoseok's voice is bitter and icy, his glare showing every single thing he would like to say.

"I need to talk to him," pleads Haeju. "Please, let me talk to him."

Jiah appears in the doorway, her eyes red and puffy, and she looks furious at the sight of Haeju. "Seriously? What are you even doing here?" says Jiah angrily. "You've done enough!"

Haeju knows they're right, but if they would just let her explain...

"Let her in," says Yoongi from somewhere in the room. Jiah and Hoseok walk out of the room, leaving the door open for Haeju, the couple still shaking in anger. Haeju walks in, and Yoongi is sitting on his bed, his back resting against the wall. He's not looking at her, he's just reading.

"Yoongi," says Haeju tentatively, and Yoongi puts the book down.

"Hey," replies Yoongi, eerily calm.

"I just wanted to talk," says Haeju, a bit confused about Yoongi's lack of reaction.

"About what?" asks Yoongi amusedly.

"I know you know... about my relationship with Jungkook," says Haeju almost inaudibly. "But I need to explain"

"No, you don't," says Yoongi, crossing his arms. "I always knew."

Haeju's eyes are wide open, and she feels confused. "Excuse me?"

Yoongi smirks as he stands up, rearranging his belt as he walks over to Haeju. "I always knew that you were working with Jeon," he grins. "I'm not stupid."

Haeju is speechless; Yoongi's smirk had never looked so threatening, and Haeju had never felt so afraid. Yoongi seems to enjoy Haeju's confusion, and he pats her condescendingly on the head.

"Anya confirmed everything to me last night," says Yoongi scornfully. "She kind of... um, seduced Jungkook and got information out of him. That's all I needed to know. I knew that Jungkook wanted you to get closer to me... so I wanted him to believe you did. We fed you false information, Baek. Jeon doesn't have a story because he has no proof."

"But... no..." Haeju can't believe this. She refuses to. "He has a recording of what you said to me last night!"

Yoongi seems confused for a split second, but he shakes his head. "Yeah... well, I lied," says Yoongi. "We all lied. You'll never know the real purpose of Acuity. Do you really think we would be so secretive about this society if we only did stuff against bullying? God, Haeju, you're so fucking naïve."

"But K.C... and your story about your bully..." Haeju is starting to cry, and this is too much. "Especially what happened with K.C! No! Then you all seemed mad at me today! You're lying!"

"I'm the only one who knew about your betrayal... and Anya of course," shrugs Yoongi, avoiding to talk about Haeju's ex-boyfriend.

"I only asked them to lie around you as a 'test for your loyalty.' They bought it, and lied along with me. Of course they're pissed off at you. Jeon has our names... yeah, that's true. But have you ever heard of a libel lawsuit? And we're a book club, really. We're all currently reading Invisible Monsters."

Yoongi points at the book lying on his bed and smirks triumphantly at Haeju, who is still trying to recover from the shock. "Yangmi..."

"Guess you will never know what happened," says Yoongi distantly. "You can leave now. We'll deal with the aftermath of Jeon's story... I don't need you anymore."

"What about us?" blurts Haeju, and Yoongi laughs, his cold laughter piercing Haeju's heart.

"Oh, Haeju... there is no such thing as us," he says impatiently. "I used you. And it was fun while it lasted."

"I slept with you," breathes Haeju, the enormity of what she did hitting her.

"I had never slept with a virgin," says Yoongi, turning his back on her. "That was a new one... so thanks."

Every single thing in their relationship was a lie. Every single time Yoongi told her he loved her, he lied. And he used her in the most horrific way, and Haeju can't change a thing.

Is this karma?

"Did you ever love me at all?" asks Haeju wretchedly, and Yoongi doesn't turn around, he's just facing the wall and his bed.

"No," he says, and everything seems truly final. "I never did. Why would I? You're Saint Haeju, after all."

Haeju feels nothing but pain, and she runs out of the room, holding her hand against her mouth as she starts sobbing. Jiah and Hoseok watch her run by without saying a word, and she is grateful for this.

A crashing sound is heard as she reaches the end of the hallway, but she doesn't look back.

xxxx

It's the last photo the one that breaks Haeju apart. Yoongi is kissing her in it, their lips fused and their cheeks flushed, and it seems like such a distant memory. Haeju's hair is messy, and so is Yoongi's, and she can't help but think that the state of their hair mirrors how she felt when they took that picture. How she feels right now.

She tries not to think about Yoongi's lips on hers, about his warm skin against hers, and she certainly does not want to think about that night. She tries to forget how his fingers used to slide between hers, their fingers intertwined tightly, and the smirk that would follow.

Everything in the room reminds her of him, and she feels sick. Haeju wants him to call her, to tell her that things were taken out of context, that he never lied, that he was honest. That they need to forgive each other. That they can make it work somehow.

But Haeju knows that she's lying to herself, that Yoongi will never call her back because he never loved her, he only used her. Yes, she kind of used him too, but it was only to... No, there is no justification for the amount of betrayal that happened between them.

The tattoo on her wrist is almost scorching her skin, and she starts crying again. She didn't know that it was possible for her tear ducts to flow again, but then again, she doesn't know anything anymore.

There's a knock at the door and Haeju wipes her tears away hastily. She told Chaerin to stay away, but she knows that she might be worried. She tries to push away the thoughts of Yoongi, and she gets out of bed slowly.

More frantic knocking, and Haeju tries to fix her hair and clothing, maybe she can look a bit presentable. Not that she cares too much. The world can be a witness of her misery, go ahead.

Haeju opens the door and a surprised gasp escapes her.

Kim Seokjin is holding a wrench in his hands, and Haeju sees no more.

| masterlist |

#bts #bts au #au #min yoongi

[who-is-olivia]

Track 6. Only Angel

Harry Styles x OC

Olivia has to perform in the Victoria Secret Fashion Show but struggles to deal with her mental health. [3.7k]

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: nudity, sexual language, mental health struggles

December 2014

  They hadn't been on speaking terms.

  Two years ago, Olivia had a breakdown and decided to go back to her hometown in Brazil, right when One Direction was set to perform on Madison Square Garden. They split up to give her room to recover and it was working... until Taylor came into the picture.

  Harry never regretted the choices he made, he knew he would be miserable with Taylor knowing that Oli was just around the corner. So he broke up with her on the day they were set to travel to the Caribbean. It was very harsh on her so it’s understandable she wouldn’t take it nicely.

  Now, Oli and Frank have to perform on the Victoria Secret Fashion Show right after Taylor.  It’s an honor, Olivia will introduce two Brazilian models wearing a special bra thing, she’s gonna be wearing a beautiful lingerie piece, but she can’t control her nerves efficiently enough to enjoy the opportunity.

  This is the last rehearsal before the big performance, they mark the steps along with the sound check and the last costume fitting all at the same time. Frank’s standing around with his guitar waiting for the production’s queue to dismount while Oli leans over Nadine’s phone to watch a short news outlet on Twitter hyping the show tomorrow.

“... but the supermodels are not the highlight of the show, instead is someone who won’t even walk the stage: Harry Styles is the talk of the town as tomorrow both his ex and his current girlfriend will take the stage one after the other. Who do you think will deliver the best performance? Comment down below and don’t forget to subscribe-“

“This is bullshit” Oli shakes her shoulder trying to seem unfazed but secretly crumbling in anxiety.

“Total bullshit, I’m sorry you had to watch this-“ Nadine revolts.

“No, it’s fine, I’m just gonna get my stuff-“

“Hey, do they have extra wings?” Frank asks from the other end of the stage.

“I don’t think so, why?”

“I was dying to wear wings” he grunts and Oli rolls her eyes.

“You can wear mine after I walk the stage” Candice winks at him teasingly.

“Frank, we have bigger fish to fry” she walks up to him, leaving the girls to themselves. “We should call this off”

“Wha-Why?!”

“Because it’s drawing too much negative attention, I don’t need that at this point” she fiddles with her fingers, desperate for a cigarette.

“Oli, this is huge for the us, we can’t bail out”

“Frankie, please”

“No bug, I’m sorry” he pats her shoulder and walks away. From the corner of her eye she notices someone familiar approaching.

“Hey there, crazy!” Zayn nods.

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” she jumps down the stage and lands in his hug. Apart from Harry, Zayn is the only 1D member she’s got to befriend. Nothing against the other boys, they all speak to each other, but he’s her actual friend. Doesn’t hurt that she got to work a lot with his girlfriend’s band recently.

“Harry told me you’d be here, I thought I’d give you a ride”

“Perfect! Let me get my things-“

“What about Frank?”

“He’ll find a place to sleep tonight” she chuckles.

  Since the show’s in London, she at least gets the comfort of staying at Harry’s place. Although they share a nice flat in New York, he needs a place in London due to the label and also to see his family. To ease their expenses, he bought a smaller place that she hasn't seen yet. Harry feels quite lonely in it, and having the expectation of her visit did nothing for his internal peace.

  On the way there, she and Zayn share a couple smokes and make small talk, planning a few tattoos while she’s in town. Soon enough they arrive and there he is, waiting to open her door for her.

“Hey love” he smiles, pulling her out of the car and into his loving embrace. At the very sight of him a huge weight is lifted from her shoulders. “Thanks mate, appreciate it”

“No worry, we’ll catch up later, eh?”

“I’ll text you, bye Zayn!”

  As he drives down the lane, Harry walks with an arm around her waist up to the flat where her things are already in place. With that out of the way, they head straight to the shower.

  He presses her naked body against the wall, her wet chest against his as their lips clash in a sensuous patient kiss. His small pecks fall to her jaw and down her neck as his wet hair tickles her, distracting her from the pleasure he’s giving.

“Haz?”

“Hm?” he hums in her sweet spot.

“Do you think I should do the gig?”

Harry stops kissing her, bringing his gaze back to her and sighing worriedly. “What could possibly make you not do it?”

“Everyone keeps speculating about the performance, they keep comparing me to Taylor and I’m just...” she cracks, hiding her face on his wet neck. Harry strokes the back of her head and shushes her tenderly, trying to get a glimpse of her.

“If you don’t wanna do it, don’t do it love. You can tell everyone you’re feeling sick and just stay here with me”  

“Yeah, but it would be amazing for Frank and I and it’s been really amazing to meet all the models and spending some time with Nadine...”

“Nadine’s great”

“She’s the fucking best” he relaxes at the sight of her smile.

“Whatever you wanna do, I’ll have your back, alright?” she nods and he leans in to kiss her playfully.

  They dry up and head to the bed, exhausted. Before she arrived, he was craving for her, desperately. He would remember their times together and twitch in his pants at the thought of it, always keeping in mind that she was x days away from coming home and putting away his misery. But having her in his arms so fragile, so unprepared, it felt wrong and he had to stop. What he feels for her is not only physical and he can’t let her emotional needs unattended.

  Oli falls asleep curled up to his side, one of her legs straddled around his waist, breathing calmly on his chest. He takes a little longer to doze off just watching her peaceful sleep, the lovely way her parted lips blow against his shirt and her eyelids twitch while she’s having a dream. Her hair is wrapped in a light pink silk sheet, soaked in coconut oil, and he can’t resist burying his nose on it and taking in the sweet scent. He loves her so much it burns, and seeing her anguish feels like walking with a knife craved in his heart, he wishes he could make it all go away... so he tries something stupid.

  At approximately 2:00am, he calls Frank.

“Aren’t you calling a bit late?” he growls on the other end of the line.

“Hey, I’m sorry, there’s just something that’s not letting me sleep”

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

“Probably can, I just wanted to clear my head about this” he excuses, feeling like he’s already drawing towards the unwanted results with this call. “You and Oli have to perform tomorrow at all costs?”

“Look man... I know she’s stressed out, all that bad press is getting under her skin but after we ditched Fiona and Gina we haven't been selling, at all, and we need the show if we want to stay signed for another year”

“Yeah, but aren’t you scared she’ll just... lose it?”

“I am, I still feel guilty about her breakdown... but that’s the job, she loves it, the good and the bad. Trust me, she’ll be amazing tomorrow, you won’t tell the difference between her and an angel”

“I bet I won’t... night, Frank” he hangs up. Frank is a level-headed guy, he must have thought this through already and taken the most logical conclusion but deep down it doesn’t feel right. Anyways, Harry quits his crusade to spare her and returns to the bedroom, settling in her arms again.

  But their domestic bliss is cut short by the day’s schedule. At 11:00am sharp she’s already getting her nails done and her braids fixed at Harry’s while he chats with everyone who’s busy. However, he notices Olivia is dead silent – which is very unusual.

“Guys” he calls after the nails and hair are done, “can I steal her for a second?”

“Sure... don’t mess her up!”

“I promise” he leads them to the door and shuts it, turning to where she has her head hidden behind her knees. “Love, please don’t let it get in your head”

“Too bad” she leans on her freshly manicured hands and he can see tears on the corner of her eyes.

That’s the last drop. “Hey, look at me” he tips her chin so she looks at him reluctantly. “You can both do great, it’s not a race, no matter what the bloody papers say”

“I know”

“Do you?”

She sighs, dropping her head on his palm. “No”

“Then you have to believe me, just do your best” he soothes, stroking her hair, “and if you can’t, your 50% is already bloody incredible-“

“Haz! Shut up” she laughs sadly, wiping the little droplets from her eyelids. To have her at least smiling is enough.

“I love you, alright?” she nods, “Trust me on this one, you’ll be fucking amazing”

  They both get pampered and ready to the red carpet, as usual arriving in grand fashion. He leaves the car first then opens the door to help her out, making a huge scene as she gets up on her heels and throws her thin Havana twists out of her face gently, which is quite a spectacle to the paparazzi. Once she feels the luxurious climate, her attitude shifts and she immediately grows more confident. She welcomes Harry’s arm around her waist and supports her wrist on his shoulder, staring at the cameras with a focused glance. He can feel it, her posture changes, she looks powerful, he can’t hide his gobsmacked grin at showing the world how intimidating and formidable is the woman who literally owns his heart and soul.

  Once the photographs are over, they walk to the dressing room together.

“Mr. Styles, you can’t go in” a producer holds him back.

Olivia frowns at her. “What?”

“This area is just for performers and models, you can’t go in”

“Can’t he come to my dressing room?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not allowed-“

“It’s ok” he interrupts, knowing pretty well it’s what he set up to surprise her later on. When she steps back, he takes Oli by the hand and hugs her tightly, pulling her close enough so he can whisper in her ear. “No matter how many people step on that stage tonight, you’re the only one I see, alright?”

She smirks. “You better...”

“You’re the sexiest, most talented person I know, you’re gonna be amazing”

“I hope so” she leans into him, cupping his cheek in a passionate kiss that catches him completely off-guard.

“I’ll be on the front row” he says a bit out of breath before letting her go.

  Once she turns towards her dressing room, she sees her standing there: tall, slim, fair, blonde, piercing blue eyes following her every step. Not willing to make another scene, she salutes her with two fingers in a friendly gesture, and in reply she smiles politely. Their interaction ends there.

  On her dressing room, Frank is already dressing up and strangely giggly.

“Candice is giving me her wings after the first run!” he cheers, making it really hard for the stylist to work on his outfit.

“You’re winning already then” she mocks, pulling her dress straps down and asking for Frank’s help to unzip the rest. She’s not used with the rest of the backup band so she awkwardly slides to one of the changing booths. “Where is Morgan? The show’s about to start”

  While she waits for their agent, she quickly puts on the black combo of hot pants, torn t-shirt, up the knee boots and a boa. At some point she hears something above the noise of the backup band tuning their instruments and everyone shuts up.

  The show starts.

  Taylor is the first one to perform, walking down the catwalk with some of the biggest models in the industry. They run to the side stage to watch them but the producers don’t let anyone get on the way of the running models, so she has to watch on the TV’s spread across the backstage. Taylor’s presentation is straight up perfect, she moves like fucking royalty and interacts naturally with all the models – she looks so good she might as well be mistaken for one. Oli’s legs begin to shake as the song hits the second chorus.

  Fortunately, there are two other performers watching, and they come to greet her.

“Hey Oli” Andrew is the first, thank god for a familiar face. They used to hang out after rehearsals, he’s a giant dork who’s also not used to fame. Also, his poems make her cry all the time.

“Andy! I’m passing out!”

“Wow, hang on” he holds her by the shoulders.

“I can’t follow up, everyone’s talking about it-“

“Hey, what you’re talking about? You rehearsed this, you’re gonna walk down that stage and be fucking incredible” he talks her down in that convoluted Irish accent of his.

  From the front row, Harry nervously watches top models in tiny clothes pass one after the other, trying to focus on anything else but Taylor on that moment. Every line she sings feels like she’s spitting on him. A show that lasts minutes feels like hours, and when it finally ends it’s time for Olivia.

“Holy shit” she breaths out raggedly.

“Do you want some water?” Ariana asks.

“Where’s Frank?” Oli pleads, seeing black dots on her peripheral vision.  

Frank, who had been talking to some of the models, promptly excuses himself. “You ok?” she barely hears through her thumping ears.

“I’m having a panic attack...”

“Hey, let me handle this” she hears her voice distantly, as if she’s drowning on her heartbeat. “Come with me” Taylor helps her up and takes her to one of the bathrooms, just the two of them.

  She pulls her hair out of her face and shoves it over one shoulder, helping her lean over the sink in case she feels like throwing up. She then wets her hand and throws some cold water on the back of her neck.

“Breath in, hold, then breath out, just like me” she insists. Olivia closes her eyes, breathes in, holds, then breathes out, time and time again until she can grasp her surroundings. Slowly, the thumping on her ears recedes and she can actually feel herself again. “Better?”

“Yeah...”, she takes one last deep breath, “thank you”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been there” she dries her hand on a paper towel.

Oli sighs heavily, “I don’t know if I can pull this off”

“Of course you can” Taylor counters, “Just think: you’ll be on stage with your brother, singing a song you already sang a hundred times, your fans will love it, the models will love it... and Harry’s on the front row, he’ll love it anyway”

She hesitates before starting, “I’m sorry about what happened between you”

“Don’t... I’m actually glad it’s over” Taylor looks down and nods her head, trying to figure out her next words. “Sure, I didn’t like the way it ended but I was just so anxious around him, I feel like I can breath now, it’s so funny... when I was with him I was always so nervous, afraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, like you were just then” she points to the door, “but you’re... effortless together. I wish I had something like that in my life”

“Hey” she looks up at her, “these things just... happen, I can’t explain it. Just do your thing and wait for someone to show up who happens to like you just like this. It might take a while but it’s worth it”

Taylor smiles, pulling her in for a tight hug. Olivia relaxes on her shoulder, welcoming all the energy she lets out. “I think you should go out there and rock that stage” she whispers encouragingly. “It doesn’t matter what people will say tomorrow, we know what’s up, they never will”

Olivia nods, taking a bit of distance. “Thank you so much” she squeezes Taylor’s hands.

“You’re welcome... now let’s go”

  The show-runner asks for the audience to be patient as they’re having a few technical difficulties and Harry is this close to invading the backstage and checking on Oli. His knee bops up and down frantically, looking at Liam beside him for guidance. At the first sign of applause, his eyes shoot up at the stage and there she is. Frank’s guitar riff fills the room as they walk in, him leading the way with his tall angel wings, sunglasses and skirt, his guitar wailing as if calling for Olivia to join. Then she does, parading to the beat until she reaches Frank.

“How’re you feeling tonight?!” she calls before getting her queue.

  He couldn’t look away even if his eyes were gauged off. His breathing increases, his body responding to the feast upon the stage. Two Brazilian models pass in front of her, he doesn’t look away. The entire cast of the show walks up but still, he doesn’t look away. The way her vocals reach all the way to the back of the venue makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise. She looks so powerful yet so ingenue, as if the way her hips swing is completely pure.

  But there’s nothing pure about her. The way she dances with Frank’s guitar solo, the way she smiles and bops with the models, how her braids barely cover her bare ass cheeks, it’s too much. All he can think about is ripping that lingerie with his teeth and let her encircle him with that boa, he wants to be at her mercy.

  At some point, their gazes meet and he feels a bit love drunk, lost in her beauty. She walks to the edge of the stage closest to him and blows him a kiss and he catches it in the air, keeping it on his internal pocket and winking back at her. He wants her to kiss him, he wants her to lose all decorum and just disgrace him right then and there.  

  But just as it began it ended. As she takes a bow and walks out with one of the models, Harry applauds on his feet. She smiles proudly, holding Frank on a side hug and bowing once again. She did it! It was amazing, sexy, vibrant... and Harry can’t wait to see her, not another ten seconds.

  She’s welcomed in the backstage with thunderous applause. After all, she did it! She was super scared but soldiered on and now that’ll live in history as one of her best performances ever. As soon as the clapping dies, she walks up to Taylor and hugs her tightly.

“Thank you for everything” she whispers through a smile.

“You were a-mazing!” Taylor cheers getting some distance between them and then hitching. Oli follows her gaze and finds Harry standing awkwardly in the middle of the commotion.

“Haz? I thought you couldn’t get in”

“Yeah, don’t say it too loud” he mocks, pulling a flower bouquet from behind his back. Olivia chuckles amusedly and runs to his embrace, leaving a very uncomfortable Taylor standing empty-handed.

“You were something else tonight” he whispers to her and hands her the flowers. Sensing the eyes around them, she restricts her displays of affection to a small kiss on his cheek. “How about we skip the after-party and just grab a bite with the band?”

“Sure, I just wanna watch Andy’s then we can go”

“Alright” he nods and his gaze accidentally catches Taylor’s. It would be extremely impolite to ignore her after looking her straight in the eyes so, for education’s sake, he walks up to her. “Ms. Swift”

“Mr. Styles” she replies with the same cocky attitude.

“It’s nice to see you”

“You too” they exchange a kiss in the cheek and part ways. Once Harry’s got his back towards her, Olivia and Taylor exchange a knowing wink.

  Before they watch Andrew’s performance, Oli and Harry head to her and Frank’s empty dressing room. As she walks in first to get the flowers on a pot, Harry locks the door behind him and moves to hug her waist. She closes her eyes in delight, feeling his desperate lips already trace her shoulder up to the crook of her neck.

“You looked really fucking sexy in that stage” he mumbles, taking gentle hold of her neck.

“I could tell, you were giving me bedroom eyes from the moment I stepped in” she mocks, stroking the hand that holds her on a choke-hold before turning inside his grasp and kissing him teasingly, making him dangle on the edge of sanity. He presses his parted lips on her but she pulls away slightly, licking a single strip of his bottom lip before bitting it lightly and kissing him back.

“Can’t wait ‘til bedroom love”

“Yeah? What a shame” she pushes him away playfully, “I’m not doing anything here with a zillion people outside”

“Fuck’s sake” he dramatically flops down into the sofa, “you’re killing me, honestly”

“Dead men can’t talk!” she replies, changing into her party dress and overcoat.

  Harry keeps groaning on the sofa, calling out for her until she’s ready. She leans over the back of the sofa and hugs his shoulders, he holds on to her arms for reassurance. Looking down, she notices he’s a bit too excited to go out in public, so she has an epiphany...

“... you got that James Dean daydream look in you eyes” she sings.

“Oh, fuck you-“

“And I’ve got that red lip classic thing that you like”

“Oli, don’t” he whimpers through a struggled laugh.

“We never go out of Style... es” with that one improv, he loses it, laughing his life away. She pecks his sweet cheeks over and over, leaving several dark-brown stains on his fair skin. “Come on, you’re good to go”

“Thanks, angel”

She narrows her eyes, hand hovering over the lock before grinning arrogantly, “I like that”

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Masterlist

#only angel #victoria secret #victoria secret fashion show #harrystyles #harry styles #hs1 #hs2 #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #fanfic #hs1era #hs2era #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfics #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #who is olivia #harry styles anthology series #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst

[marshmallowprotection]

Honeysuckle

(READ ON AO3)

Description: Fate seemed to have other plans in store for Saeran and Saeyoung Choi then what they ever expected. One path that is bathed in the light and the other is drowned in the darkness. They are taking different roads and what will happen when those roads diverge? One time will tell their fates and if they're destined to be happy or wrought with sorrow.

Vampire AU.

Pairing(s): Choi Saeran/Original Female Character(s), Choi Saeran/Original Female Character(s)

Act I

“Saeyoung… come back… please… please…!”

“You pathetic bug. Are you still groveling and whining because that stupid Saeyoung went off and got himself killed?! I warned him what would happen if Saejoong knew! He didn't listen! Do you know what happens to boys that don't listen?”

“You're hurting me… please, Saeyoung, help!”

“I’ll teach you never to make a fuss again, Saeran Choi.”

Saeran awoke with a start in bed.

How many nights had he had that dream and how many nights had passed since he had been able to leave that place behind? He wasn’t sure at the moment. What he did know was that he felt cold and clammy.

He reached up and ran a hand through his red locks to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

He looked around the room and waited for his vision to clear up from the night of restless sleep. The room was dark but there was a night light on the corner of the room and although it was mostly barren of objects and things, there was a comfy bed and there was no sign of ropes or a basement. It was very unlike the floor and damp cement he was used to.

It took a moment for him to realize that he wasn’t back at his childhood home.

Rather, he was in the household of V and Rika, and he had been for some time now as they had taken him in after his Mom went seemingly missing one day.

He still wasn’t used to that and he doubted he would ever be. Often when he was plagued by these horrid nightmares, he would find himself wandering the halls of his own accord during the night time to clear his thoughts.

Saeran stumbled out of bed and rubbed at his eyes, walking out of his room and down the hall with no destination in mind. In this house, nobody was waiting to punish him for leaving his room and that notion still left him feeling strange. It had only been a couple of months since the tragic incident occurred, and the young boy was still trying to get his footing.

There were sounds of somebody rustling around in the house apart from him.

That wasn’t all that strange. He knew that the people he was staying with had strange hours due to their work, at least, that’s what they told him when he started staying with them. Saeran peeked into one room and saw nobody was in it, and then he glanced into another one and also found that it was empty. Where were they?

V… was usually nice about helping himself after a really bad night. Rika was also very kind to him when he needed somebody.

Were they hiding? Were they waiting for him to make a mistake so that they could yell at him and laugh in his face for believing they were going to be nice to somebody as pathetic as him?

His breath was a bit strangled in his chest as he walked towards the room at the end of the hall where the light was on. His footsteps were light, delicate, and hardly made a sound. He and Saeyoung had learned how to move around without making noise, at least, not making as much noise as they possibly could.

Saeran’s blood was pumping so quickly that he could feel it burning in his chest.

A part of him wanted to believe that none of the thoughts that he was thinking were true but another part of him was scared and almost certain that his relative happiness here with V and Rika would come to an end the moment they realized he was nothing special.

His thoughts were clouded with these notions as he reached the end of the hallway and turned to look into the kitchen where he found Rika and V, they were laughing and speaking without a care in the world as V cooked and Rika fiddled with decorative pieces. Saeran was perplexed and the confusion was written all over his face until they noticed him standing in the doorway.

“Good morning, Saeran,” V greeted with a smile. “I didn’t think you would be awake this earlier just yet.”

“...Morning,” he said, quietly.

His voice was barely above that of a small whisper. Saeran fiddled with his sleeves in front of himself. He wasn’t the best at talking to other people and he never felt quite right when people addressed him. He took a seat at the table with them, although he still wasn’t sure if they wanted him to be there with them.

Rika pressed a hand to his shoulder. It was so cold that he could feel the chill through the fabric of his shirt. She was always cold. Saeran didn’t think it was that much of a bad thing, he was often sick and plagued with fevers. Sometimes that touch soothed him.

Her smile was always directed at others, although she would never flash a toothy grin at him. “I can’t wait any longer, V. The excitement is overwhelming.  Good morning to you, Saeran. Do you happen to know what today is?”

Saeran nervously looked down at his lap, and then around the room to see if he could locate a calendar of some sort. When he couldn’t find one, he just settled his vision back on the ground. He didn’t know what the date was and he wasn’t sure why it be anything special. Why would today be different than any other day?

“I… I don’t know,” Saeran mumbled.  “Is it something important?”

Rika and V exchanged looks. It was quiet for a moment. Perhaps they were pitying him, still, or maybe they were reasoning something else. Then, the sound of a plate touching the table made him lookup. It was a slice of cake, Saeran noted.

Why?

“Happy birthday, Saeran!”  she said, gleefully.

V’s face was a little red. He rubbed at the back of his neck, “You mentioned that you liked this flavor, so I thought it was the perfect time to make you something special. I hope you like it… I’m not the best at cooking, you know, but I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.”

Oh.

He hadn’t even thought about his birthday before. It had never been something that he or his brother thought about. It was never a happy thing. The day that they were born was the day that they were doomed to be miserable until they were put out of their misery.

He thought that one day his body may just give up on him, but he and Saeyoung had promised each other to keep on living.

He had to keep surviving even if his brother wasn’t there with him. Saeran missed him, and he hoped that he was okay, where ever he was. He prayed nightly that she was wrong about him getting killed by their Dad.

He was eleven years old today, he remembered. He had been alive for more than a decade, now, and somehow he was still kicking. This was the first birthday that he would be without his brother by his side, and he didn’t know it at the time, but it was the first of many birthdays that would be the very same way.

But, he thought, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

He had Rika and V with him now, and they seemed to like him.

He wasn’t sure that he was worthy of this kind of affection. It still felt nice and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful to them for what they were doing.  

Saeran’s eyes felt wet for some reason. He reached up and brushed his fingers to his face only to find that he was crying again. He couldn’t stop the tears from flooding out of his eyes, not even as he thanked both of them for being so nice to him.

“I… I can’t make them stop… I can’t stop crying. I’m sorry. I just… I don’t… I’ve never celebrated my birthday before. Saeyoung… and I never got to do stuff like that. Mom wouldn’t let us do anything but stay inside… Thank you…!”

He decided that he would try to keep on going not only for his brother Saeyoung but for the sake of Rika and V.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Seasons passed, fall, winter, spring, summer, and then it would repeat itself over and over again.

Saeran got used to living with his new family. It was a little strange but it was still something far better than anything else he ever had. He would spend most of his time in the house but he had the freedom to go outside as much as he wanted during the day time. His favorite thing to do was to watch the clouds.

But, when he wasn’t doing that on his own, he would help V in the garden.

He wasn’t the best when it came to it but he could spend hours examining different kinds as he searched for their names and tried to decide their classifications. He could learn anything that he wanted and that was the one thing that he decided he wanted to know.

He had never had friends before, but he considered all the flowers in the garden to be such. After all, he took care of them and they repaid him by blooming in season and becoming vibrant petals with a wild array of colors. He felt strangely content with that. However, it wasn’t always fun and games with this new life.

He would spend many hours in the evenings learning with Rika.

She had taken it upon herself to help him with his education and while she could be a very strict teacher, she always coaxed him when he made mistakes and corrected them. There were many times when he felt like things didn’t make sense; Rika, however, pushed him to work harder and more than he ever had.

Saeran didn’t mind studying.

He did want to know more about the real world, he wanted to see and learn as much as he could if he could have the chance to roam free without worrying about a target on his back. He was still scared of that freedom, though, despite how much he craved it, as Rika had reminded him that it wasn’t safe for him out there.

Her voice would always become nervous, panicked even when he brought it up.

Saeran started to speak less and less about it the more that he spent time with Rika. He believed her when she said those things, too. Rika couldn’t be wrong. She and V knew more about everything then he ever did and he trusted them to know what was right.

That consisted of most of the time, though, as V was busy traveling and working on his next big project.

They spoke now and again on the phone but it wasn’t quite the same as being able to speak to each other in person. Rika was different from V, and as much as he cared about her, he missed the peace that came when V was home.

When it was just him and Rika…

It felt like the threat of danger was looming in the distance. Like his Dad was going to find and get rid of him for sure this time. He was sure that Rika was right.

He just wished that one night, just for one night, that he would be able to breathe without thinking about what he knew to be the truth. He knew that he was doomed without these two in his life. But, why did they have to talk about it all the time? Why couldn’t they just keep living the way that they always had done?

He may have only been eighteen, but he knew that there to be more peaceful days in sight.

He prayed that there were. Saeran wanted to have faith in V’s words to him. That things would be okay as long as he was safe with them. But, Rika’s words to him weren’t like that. She would say that he would only be safe as long as he stayed inside this house and far away from the rest of humanity.

There was more evil in the world than the Prime Minister; Saeran was fearful of that and what it entailed. Saeran felt like it must have been rather bad if she wouldn’t tell him the full extent of what she was so fearful of.

Rika was never asleep during the night time, she was always awake and stirring doing God knows what in the house.

He didn’t know what she did most of the night but he knew the sounds of her footsteps against the wood floor and the sounds of somebody rummaging through the fridge.

He didn’t often get up unless he had a nightmare, but he knew that she would be sitting the dark, drinking from a tall glass and shifting through her paperwork.

The first few times that he had noticed her doing that, it had left him a little uncomfortable. However, V had later told him that she was just what people called a night owl. She was more aware and lively during the late-night hours. That was when she liked to collect her thoughts and piece together things she needed.

Perhaps she was spending all that time working on his lesson plans, he surmised. Rika was his teacher for everything, and it must have taken a lot to spend so much time working with him. They would sit nightly going over one subject after each other until Saeran felt like he was going to fall asleep at the kitchen table.

She was going to a lot of trouble for him.

So, he tried his best not to bother her amid the night. There were times when she comforted him and calmed him down from his fears. Her approach may have been different from V but it was still done from the kindness of her heart.

He didn’t want to act ungrateful or even think ill of somebody who cared for him.

He sat at the table that night, with his pencil firmly pressed against the paper as Rika began to speak to him once more. “And you see, that’s just another example of cruelty, Saeran. Humans never learn from the mistakes of the past, and things are destined to repeat themselves because nobody learns from what happened.”

Saeran sucked in a breath, “That’s awful.”

Tales of bloodshed and revenge.

War and the worst that could be found in humanity.

It did nothing to alleviate his fears.

“I know, I know. It’s dreadful but you must learn about even the worst of times.  But, don’t you worry about a thing, Saeran. You’re safe here in this house with me. I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you,” she smiled, ever so cheerfully as her hand brushed against the top of his head. “After all, you’re very precious to me.”

Yes, yes, she was right.

Saeran just had to stay safe.

It may not have been the most ideal life but it was better to be safe then it was to be dead, right? Was Saeyoung living the same way? Did he feel this weight of fear and dread every day?  

Was he hiding and trying to get by where the evil could not find him? Was he thinking about the freedom they could have had if they weren’t born as begotten children?

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Oh, you’re very welcome, my flower. I think of you as my son, Saeran. I wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to befall you, that’s why I’m spending so much time guiding you to the right path. I’m just pleased that you’re trying so hard to heed these lessons. Your future is right in front of you and I can’t wait to show you where you’re heading.”

“...”

Where were they going? He thought.

Saeran didn’t ask that.

He knew better than to question his guardians. They always knew what was right and they would never lead him astray. That was why he cared about them so much and why they cared about him so much. He was faithful and dedicated, and they were nice and compassionate.

Whatever the future had in store, it must have been great. He couldn’t wait to see what it held. He prayed that it withheld calm summer days where he could lay with his back on the grass as the clouds fluttered by in the breeze overhead.

Saeran turned his head back to his homework and started to fill out the blanks in the sheet in front of him as Rika took another sip from her glass of tomato juice. She grew strangely quiet as he continued his work, her cell phone ringing and she stepped out to answer the call. It seemed important so Saeran tuned it out.

It wasn’t his business.

However, he would come to later regret not listening and watching more closely of the warning signs that were sitting in front of him.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

It was late one night, or was it very early in the morning?

Saeran had awoken from his sleep again, and this time, the house was deafly silent. There was not a single noise to be heard whatsoever. That wasn’t normal. There was always somebody awake no matter what or at the very least, there would be dull static of television or from the wind outside of the house.

That made Saeran incredibly nervous.

Why was it so quiet? Why was nobody making a sound? There was something in his body that was telling him to stay in his bed and pray for the morning to come. Something wasn’t right. He knew that Rika was going to be back to the home very late due to work, and he knew that she would likely come into the home while on the phone with V, so perhaps she wasn’t home yet?

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

It indicated that it was three in the morning. That was far too late for somebody to be out in the city. It seemed like something was amiss lately. Rika had been more stern with him and had stopped him from going outside. She seemed to have no patience for his want to go out during the day. He was used to her worry.

But, this worry was tenfold.

Her panicked hand gripped his shoulder hard and warned him of vague monsters that were lingering nearby. She warned him if he stepped into the light, then he would be hurt. She didn’t want that for him and he didn’t want to die by the hand of that man, nor any other devil that existed in the outside world.

As sad as it made him, he stayed to her word and listened dutifully.

That had been going for a few weeks now. V hadn’t contacted them for quite a while and that seemed to be a source of much of Rika’s worries and fears. Saeran knew better than to bring him up. It seemed rather touchy and sensitive. He still sort of feared for his guardians, he didn’t want to believe that they were fighting or at odds but it felt like they were.

It felt like… a knife had cut through the peace that they had once had.

Saeran walked through the house that he had called his home for years now but he felt like he was intruding on something that he shouldn’t have been. His pulse had quickened, and his ears were ringing.

Each step that he took felt like another one into a state of disrepair; He nearly turned around and went back to his room but the curiosity was eating away at him. He wanted to know why he felt so fearful and why it was things were wrong. Against his better judgment and every fiber of his body telling him to run away, he kept walking forward until his hand rested against the back door.

He pressed a hand to the glass and opened it.

Saeran took one step outside and shut the door behind himself. He peered around the garden and checked to see if there was anyone outside. He did not find a soul out in the open. Perhaps his brain was playing tricks on him or something like that?

After checking what he could see in the surrounding area, he turned his back on the forest and tried to go back to the house. A hand brushed against the back of the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing and held him in place. He strained to move but it felt like whatever was holding him had far more strength than he did.

“Saeran, what did I tell you about leaving the house?”

That voice.

“R-Rika?” he stained, “What are you doing outside? I thought you weren’t home yet. What’s going on?”  

Saeran turned his head to see that Rika was standing behind him.

It didn’t seem right. Rika was small and lithe. She looked like she wouldn’t have any more strength than a young child would but she was somehow restraining him.

Her eyes, her eyes weren’t as green as they had always been, rather, tonight they were piercing red color that struck fear into his heart. Red. Why was that? Her eyes were as red as her favorite drink was, or as brightly colored as his hair, for that matter.

Was she wearing contacts? She didn’t have vision issues or anything.

There was something more startling than the color of her eyes, too. She smiled at him, and for the first time, her pearly whites shined in the moonlight that rained down from up above. That’s when he saw why she had never smiled at him with such a wide expression before.

Because instead of the teeth you expected to see, flat and rectangular, he noted that she had two fangs protruding from either side of her mouth. That dread that had been lingering in the back of his mind was back. It was telling him that he needed to run but his body wouldn’t listen to him.

“Rika…?”

Instead of responding to him, she let go of him momentarily and a laugh escaped her lips.

The fear had eaten at him so much that he only the strength to sink to the ground. In a flash, she was standing in front of him with a worried expression on her face. She brushed her hand against his cheek. The same very way that she would often do when he was upset as a child.

It did nothing to quell the dread.

“Saeran,” her voice coaxed him. “Tell me, you would do anything for me if I asked you to, right? You know that I only want to protect you, right? That means you’re willing to do whatever I ask since you trust me to protect you, right? What if I told you that I have the means to make sure that nobody can hurt either of us, ever again?”

It sounds…

Saeran doesn’t know how to react to that.

What is she asking of him?

What is it that she wants from him? “I don’t… I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he tries to say, but his voice is caught in his throat just as quickly as he blurts it out. “What’s happening? Why are do you look like this? What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened, dear Saeran,” she murmured. “I’ve always been this way. V just never let me show you all of me. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. Something has happened… and I need you to listen to me. I’m going to do something that you ensure our safety. If you don’t listen to me, then I fear you will lose your life and I won’t be able to stop it.”

“I don’t know… I don’t… I don’t… no… I don’t know if I want to do something bad... Where’s V? What’s happening? Why isn’t he here?”

Rika’s expression changes. Her softness is replaced with sharp irritation. She doesn’t seem very happy with his answer and she doesn’t seem pleased that his stumbled muttering ended in the phrase that it did.

Her grip tightened on his shoulder.

His body goes stiff.

As scared as he is of the energy that is coming from the person that he thought was true goodness in the world, he is more scared of the fate that awaits him if he doesn’t listen to everything that she asks of him.

Yet, he doesn’t want to agree to whatever she’s asking of him. The tone in her voice scares him a lot and he wants to get away. He trusts Rika but she’s scaring him.  It sounds like she’s got an idea in mind and doesn’t care if he agrees or not.  

“Fine, you don’t have to agree to it,” she says solemnly. “I told you… I love you. I’m the only one that truly loves you. Nobody else in this world cares for you the way that I do. You’ll come to understand that very soon. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything, Saeran. I’ll do what’s needed and you’ll thank you later for my kindness towards you.”

Saeran is trembling underneath her touch.

Before he knows what’s happening around him there’s a burning sensation that’s coursing through his veins that feels like he’s on fire.

It hurts, it hurts so much that he can’t even focus on anything but the pain that is overtaking every part of his core. Then, the fire starts to dwindle, only to be replaced by the feeling of intense cold, as if he fell into an icy river and his limbs and torso feel like they’re being poked with pins and needles.

It’s then that he realizes that those fangs are poked into the flesh of his neck. She’s doing something to him and it’s the worst pain that he’s ever felt in his entire life. She said she was going to help him. But, this was far worse than the pain his Mom used to inflict upon him when he was trapped in the cellar.

His body feels foreign to him and he’s grasping at Rika, begging and pleading for her to make the pain stop. Even his voice feels like it doesn’t belong to him. “I don’t… I don’t wanna die…” Saeran rasped, the pleading tone in his voice not dying down for even a moment.

“Please! Stop! Stop it!”

“It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!”

“PLEASE!”

No matter how much he tries to fight it, there’s no fighting what happening to him and by the time that Rika has let go of him, he doesn’t even register that she’s done so. His screams echo into the night of the desolate mountain until there’s nothing left but a hoarse whisper that not a soul can hear any longer.

He slips into a state of unconsciousness where only pain lay ahead of him.

The vicious fire and the ruthless chill that bore into his flesh and bone dug into him with its hungry maw and left no part of Saeran Choi unscathed from their fury. He would know nothing but the ache and bitter bite of the monster’s sting for the next two weeks as he lived through a cycle of torture and agony that he would never wish to repeat.

To think that the one that he trusted the most turned against him, it was far too much to bear for one young boy who had only just passed the eighteenth anniversary of his birth by a month.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

The pain was nothing compared to the thirst that he experienced when he woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night or was it the day? The room that he was in had no light, no windows, just walls and one doorway that seemed to lead somewhere. He sat up and tried to move but he found that his body moved far too quickly.

His head spun and he fell back down against the mattress.

Saeran was thirsty.

He had never felt this thirsty before. It was like he hadn’t had anything to drink in days and when he tried to swallow, it did nothing but made the burn that much stronger. He dug his nails into the skin of his throat trying to fight off that feeling but nothing, absolutely nothing he did would get that feeling to go away from him.

He felt himself begin to breathe hard. The air that filled his lungs did nothing for him. It didn’t satisfy him and it surely didn’t make him feel like it was helping the burn. He strained, and he struggled, but no matter what he did or tried nothing helped him. He willed himself to get up and ignored the pain in his body to try and go to the door and when his hands brushed against the knob, he twisted, and it did not open.

Saeran tried again, and again, and again.

Then, the knob was ripped from the door in one false swoop. He looked down at his hand and then he looked at the gap in the doorframe. What was this? Was this a weak door or was he suddenly strong? That couldn't be. Saeran was always weak and sickly. He couldn't even open a jar in the house. What was this? What was happening to him? He tried to shake off those feelings as quickly as they built up as he left that dark room and headed out into the hallway.

It didn't seem familiar to him and he didn't think that he knew this place. All he knew was that he needed to find some water and stop this thirst. He wound up finding a sink and he tried to swallow some but it did nothing but make him even more thirsty. It didn't even wet his dry throat. That was when he really started to feel like he was losing control of himself. He was trying to put together the pieces of what had happened to him before he fell asleep and where he was now but the thoughts were clouded.

What happened to him?

The last thing he could remember was Rika.

She had approached him in the garden late into the night and he had tried to speak with her about something, and then... wait.

Saeran remembered.

Fangs sunk deep into the skin of his throat and his body felt empty in a matter of minutes. He had heard of something like that in one of the monster books that he had found lying around in his home and he assumed that they were just that. A story for children to scare them. There was no way that there could be vampires walking amongst the living and yet, he had seen the red in Rika's irises and he had felt her teeth drill into him. He lifted his shaking hand to his throat and felt for a wound but he could find nothing but healed skin and just the smallest indentation in the skin where something had bored into him.

Right there, on his skin.  

Proof.

That meant that...

Saeran gasped, once again as the realization struck him, and his body caved in on him. He fell unconscious once again.

The second time that he awoke, this time he found himself in a darkened chamber on the ground. Rika was sitting in a chair just in front of him that vaguely reminded him of a throne. Her blond curls fanned around her body and her hand press into her cheek as if bored by watching him struggle and strain against the floor. She didn't say anything to him. Her vision just turned in the direction of the other side of the room where she smiled gleefully at somebody, "Come on, bring in the traitor, would you? He's finally awakened and I think he's mighty thirsty for a feast on the blood those who have failed me."

Meanwhile, Saeran's body was screaming at him. That thirst had not gone away and it had somehow gotten much worse. It was the only thing that he could think about. He wasn't even thinking about the pain anymore. He just thinking about how thirsty he was and how badly he wanted to make the thirst stop. He dug his hands into the floor and breathed hard, as it was all that he could do, hissing out and groveling.

Was this what it felt like to suffer?

One guard came forward with a human that was struggling to fight against the tight grip the vampire held on their wrist. They were begging and pleading with both the guard and the woman in the room to let them go, and that they were sorry for what they had done. Rika merely sighed at the sight and twirled her hand around once. "If you would be so kind, dear, let the traitor go. I don't think my dear Saeran can wait any longer."

The human was shoved onto the ground in front of Saeran and the guard took a few steps back away from the newborn. Something smelled... good. Saeran's ache momentarily died as he lifted his head up and saw the terrified eyes of the man in front of him. He saw the fear and the terror in their eyes but for some reason, Saeran couldn't find himself feeling the same way. All he could think about was how thirsty he was and how good they smelled.

So good... so damn good.

Was this what it felt like to lose control?

"No... please!"

"You should be happy to serve paradise. After all, you were the one that said you were willing to do anything to please me and further my vision of paradise. I did all I could for you, and now you're going to do all you can for my dear Saeran."

He was so thirsty... and it smelled so good. It was too strong and it too much for him to ignore. He could only think about how much he wanted his thirst to be quenched. Saeran's mind went blank as his body took control.

Was this what it felt like to be a monster?

Those screams would haunt Saeran for the rest of his life.

Even after he managed to escape from the false paradise that Rika had crafted after being entrapped for over a year by sheer luck, those memories and his actions would always haunt him and plague his waking mind. He left that place as soon as he had the chance and saw the opening to run. He ran as long and as far as his legs could carry him and until his lungs burned with thirst once again. 

He refused to think about that place, and he refused to look behind him. It was a chapter in his life that he wanted to run away from, run as far away as he could. The acts committed to him were nothing he wanted to speak of.

It hurt him to even think of that first night. That first night where he took his first life out of sheer necessity. It was another nightmare to add to his collection of evergrowing pains that would weigh on him for the rest of eternity.

Saeran just kept running.

He doesn't even know for how long and how far, but he gets as far away from that place in the mountains as he can get himself. He stares up at the moon as it falls on the horizon every night when he travels and remembers that he is damned to never see the beautiful sun that had once made him so happy ever again.

#vampire au #mod kait #fanfiction #fanfic #mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #saeran choi #choi saeran #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #lila lancelot oc #minji cho oc #judas mc2 #mystic mess #mistake messenger #seven mystic messenger #seven mysme #seven mm #mm seven #mysme seven #mystic messenger seven #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mm #saeran mysme #mm saeyoung #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran #HERE IT IS

[iamnotbrianmay]

"where are you taking me" with whoever you want! just make it sad!

This is a sort of sad one folks.... tw: mentions of natural death (past) 

Brian jumped into the car without hesitation once John told him that he was going to visit his father and that he wanted Brian to meet him. They had been dating for nearly six months, and it felt like a big step to meet this allusive father of his. He had just met John's mother a few nights before, and judging by the fact that there were no pictures of John's father anywhere around the house, Brian had guessed they were divorced. 

Sex and band practice had gotten in the middle of him asking John what had happened between his parents, and now that he was in a car in the middle of a country road he couldn't help but think that maybe he should have done that first. 

He watched as the trees past by and took in the beautiful scenery as he tried to formulate the correct way to ask the question in his head. He had never really heard anything about John's father before, and he couldn't deny that going in blank was a terrible idea. 

"How should I call your dad?" 

For a second John turns to look at him with a quizzical look, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, should I call him sir, or by his name, or is he one of those people that has strict rules about how people should call him?" 

There is a second in which John looks like a deer caught in headlights, then he sighs, "Just by his name will be alright, he hates it when people call him sir. He says it makes him sound old." 

"Do you think he will like me?" Brian starts to fidget with the cuffs of his shirt, nervous about meeting John's parents for the second time this week. 

John, gives him a sad little smile, "Yeah, I think he will love you." 

There is a tenseness in the air that he hadn't felt before, and Brian decides that maybe John is just as nervous, so he leaves the topic alone for now. He tries and fails miserably to try to calm his nerves, but John's cryptic answers have him on edge. Maybe John's dad is terribly ill? Or perhaps he is homophobic, and John will introduce him as just a friend, and he is nervous about being caught in the act by his father.

He doesn't really know what to expect apart from the fact that he wants to be called Arthur and not sir. At least he has that, and he won't make a fool out of himself in that aspect. 

He misses the rest of the ride as his brain makes up a thousand different scenarios of how things will transpire with John's dad, and nearly misses when they pull up into a cemetery.

The turn of events shock him enough to make his usually sharp brain ask possibly the stupidest question ever, "Where are you taking me?" 

John doesn't dignify that question with an answer, and instead parks the car in one of the many lots, before turning to look at Brian, "To meet my dad." 

They buy white roses before entering the cemetery grounds, and Brian trails after John lost as to what to do or say now that it's obvious what is happening. He feels immensely shitty now for not asking him about his dad beforehand, even more so now that he is in a cemetery dressed in a colourful t-shirt and white bell-bottomed pants. Brian wants the earth to swallow him whole. 

They come to a stop in front of a well-kept stone, adorned with flowers of all kinds, chocolates, small gifts and even a book. Said book looks to be in bad shape, probably from the rain and exposure to sunlight, so John reaches over and grabs it before taking another book from his coat pocket. 

Brian should have known something was up when John showed up to his house, dressed entirely in black, but he had never expected this. 

Once the flowers and the book has all been set, and the small cobwebs which had started to build upon the grave were pushed aside, John kneeled in front of it and lowered his head. His long brown hair was falling down the sides of his face, covering it completely, and Brian didn't know if it would be prudent to tuck it behind his ears. 

"Hello, dad," he whispered, loud enough for Brian to her if he strained his ears enough, "I'm sorry I haven't been around as much recently, but I've started a band, and it has sort of taken all of my spare time." 

Brian waited for a few seconds, terrified of making a wrong move of somehow offending John. He would not like to do any of those things, so he just waited for his boyfriend to resume talking. 

"Mom and Julie have been great this past few months. But you already knew that, didn't you? Julie came down here a few weeks ago. I hope you liked the read." 

He could start to see John's strong facade crumbling. His voice was beginning to crack, and his words were becoming mumbled, even more so than they had been before. Still, he continued talking with his dad. 

Brian was not exactly a religious person, but at that moment, he hoped that Arthur Deacon was listening to the man talking to him. Then the part in which John introduced him came, and Brian felt dizzy with nervousness. It was weird, knowing that his father's boyfriend was not alive but still being deadly afraid of what the man might think about him, it was driving Brian mad. 

"I came here to say that—" John cleared his throat, "I told mom and Clare about our little secret. They were surprised, but nothing bad happened, just like you said it wouldn't all of those years ago. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, but I definitely am not sorry that I told you back then. Especially because now I get to introduce you to my boyfriend and I know that you would love him. I don't know what I would do if that were uncertain, I'd probably wouldn't even have a boyfriend in the first place. So thank you."

John turned back to Brian and extended his hand towards him. Brian gladly took it and crouched right beside John. He certainly wasn't going to talk to John's father, mainly because he didn't know what to say, but he would be there for him is John wanted him to be there. 

"This is Brian May. He is that respectable kind of man that you talked about me having as a boyfriend when I came out to you. He is an astrophysicist and currently working on his PhD, he is the guitarist of my band, and quite probably the love of my life." 

Brian turned to look at John at that moment, eyes wide in surprise. It's not that they hadn't declared their undying love for each other before, but listening to John saying it like it was the most natural, and obvious, thing in the world made something inside Brian curl up in happiness. It might have also had something to do with the fact that he was saying it in front of one of the most important people in his life. 

"Now dad, I know you will never be able to threaten my boyfriend or walk me down the aisle as we had talked, but I hope that wherever you are, you can see me be the happiest man on the planet." 

Brian didn't notice when he had started crying, only that when he reached over to scratch his cheek, his hand came away wet. He looked at John, who in turn looked at him like he had hung the moon and the stars. It made his heart beat a thousand miles an hour, and something inside him unfurl to make room for the tremendous about of love that he felt for John at that moment. He turned back towards the grave, "Don't worry, Arthur. I will make sure to take care of your boy." 

He couldn't say much of anything else. It felt out of place to talk with his boyfriend's dead father, even if John had brought him here to meet the man. However, John didn't seem insulted by it in the slightest. Probably very aware of the fact that talking to the dead wasn't everyone's cup of tea. 

***

The morning after John had taken Brian to meet his dad, he felt a sort of weight lift of his shoulders. He had woken up the next morning feeling more refreshed than he had ever since he had started playing music with the boys, and it showed in the way that for the first time in what seemed like forever he hadn't felt like death by waking up before twelve. 

He wiggled out of Brian's embrace and walked out into the kitchen to find it alone. It wasn't uncommon, even less because it was Saturday at eight in the morning, but John still felt like the house was abnormally quiet. He made quick work of preparing his coffee and making breakfast for himself before taking it all to their, barely there, balcony to have breakfast in peace. He watched cars pass, people walk their dogs or jog down the street, and parents taking their children to school, as he slowly ate his scrambled eggs and enjoyed the morning breeze. 

For a second, he just wished that Brian was here to share this moment with him, just like he had been there with John yesterday when they had visited his father's grave. It wasn't often he let himself speak with the man more than a few words, he hated crying alone in the middle of a cemetery, but with Brian it had been different, it had felt different. Almost as if his dad was there to share the moment with them rather than John talking to a piece of stone and being painfully aware that he would never be there for him again. 

The door to the balcony opened, and Brian came out rubbing his eyes and looking for John like bugs to a lamp. The younger man instantly slid his chair back and let Brian curl on his lap like a cat, arms around his neck, head tucked into the crook of his neck and legs curled around his waist. John melted into the embrace, playing with Brian's hair as the older man willed his body and mind to wake up fully. 

"I missed you in bed," the statement was punctuated with a small kiss on the crook of his neck. 

John hugged Brian closer to him, "Sorry, I got restless." 

"'s okay," he said, "as long as you are okay." 

John chuckled at his boyfriend's sleeping response and made sure to hug him closer. Yesterday he had realised that he never had, in his 23 years of being alive and numerous relationships, been so sure about something like he was sure about Brian. Not even when he thought he was going to marry Veronica. 

"Mmm, John?" 

He pressed a kiss to Brian's shoulder, "Yes?" 

"Thank you for taking me to meet your dad yesterday. It meant a lot." 

He felt something in his heart settle in place; like a hole finally being filled or a crooked piece being put back where it belonged. It was both a wonderful feeling and somewhat painful but confirmed with crystal clear clarity about what he felt for Brian. 

"No, thank you for going with me. It meant the world."

They stayed like that for a few hours more, clinging to each other like koalas. John was even sure that Brian had fallen asleep at one point or another, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Not when he was so sure this was the love of his life.

#brian may #john deacon #queen #my writing #slash #breaky

[moonmotels]

24 and 40 from the prompt list!

“You need to take off your shirt” & “I’ve got your back”

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this.”

“It’s nature, Delia, sorry it’s not a fancy spa with fancy massages n’ whatever else you fancy people do for fun.”

Cordelia swats a fly buzzing around her forehead, wondering how she’d been swindled into a ‘relaxing’ day that turned into a three mile trek through the wilderness. When Misty had asked her to spend the day together, Cordelia had naively believed it would feature some gardening, maybe some records, or even a nice brunch in the French Quarter. 

Not this. Her shoes are muddy and wet, there’s sweat dripping down her neck, and the picnic basket she’s carrying feels as if Misty had packed rocks for this lunch.

“I’m just saying, I could have just as easily transmuted us to wherever we’re going.” “Where’s the fun in that?” Misty pouts. “You’d miss the scenic route.”

Cordelia glances at the forest floor mottled with unsightly moss and bugs she’s sure will be making their appearance sooner rather than later. As if on cue, a mosquito dodges her wave and bites her right under her chin. She yelps in surprise, smacking it away. “Misty, I adore you, but nature and I have never been the best of friends.” Misty stays silent to process the fact that Cordelia adores her. 

Several minutes later, she pauses her stride, nearly causing Cordelia to bump into her. “We’re here,” she announces gleefully, spreading the blanket atop the ground.

Misty looks so positively radiant, here in her element, that Cordelia’s fears and other complaints dissolve with rapt speed. She even tries to ignore the three other mosquitoes brave enough to bite her.

Halfway through lunch, which, admittedly is delicious, Cordelia stops Misty mid-bite to retrieve the lady bug making its slow ascent up a curl of her wild hair. Capturing the bug on her thumb, she brings it towards Misty’s face and grins. “Aren’t these good luck? Make a wish.”

(Misty already has her wish already sitting in front of her, but she feigns thought for the sake of the moment.)

When the ladybug takes off in search of other angelic creatures to crawl on, Cordelia is left inches from Misty’s face. Her eyes flick down to her lips and back quickly, but not quick enough. Misty is the first to pull back, shoving the other half of her sandwich in her mouth to avoid awkward conversation.

By the time lunch is finished, Cordelia is trying her best to pretend she’s not fighting off the bugs that seem to be attracted to her and her only. 

“Why me?” she finally breaks down, reaching around to scratch unsuccessfully at her back.

“It’s that Supreme blood,” Misty comments airily, as if this is a regular occurrence. “They must like it,” she teases.

“Well I don’t like them.”

“Delia,” Misty gasps comically, “If I’d known that I would have protected you better. I’ve got your back, you know that.”

Cordelia makes a face in return.

To placate her, Misty gestures for her to sit up. “Here, I’ll scratch your back for you, ya big baby.”

Cordelia shivers with the first press of Misty’s blunt fingernails digging into the ridge of her spine. Then only divine relief is felt when those fingers immediately find the itchy welts the bugs had left behind.

Soon after, Misty sighs in annoyance. “You need to take off your shirt.”

“I - what?”

“I can’t scratch ‘em well enough with this dumb blouse you got on. Come on, take it off.”

“Misty,” Cordelia tries to joke, but fails miserably when Misty begins tugging it from her waistband, “If you wanted me out of my clothes you could have just asked.” Misty leans into her ear and drops her voice an octave; has to feel the effect it sends through Cordelia, and whispers, “I’ll remember that for later.”

And somehow, Cordelia does not doubt that in the slightest. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 20 - Seed + Spark

AN: YOU GUYS! It’s back! I’m a big sucker for this story (and especially Harper Coleman) so I just had to do what I do and give you both sides of a story. So, without further ado, enjoy the first chapter of Harry’s POV of Seed + Spark. Let me know what you think! 

wc: 4k

read the first 19 chapters here.

Harper Coleman was a bit of an enigma. I mean, you’d think after 14 years of knowing her, I’d come to understand her a little better than still being confused by the way she laughed or joked or seemed to be one of my sister’s favorite people. 

But alas--as I sat across from her in my girlfriend’s dorm room, watching as she feverishly typed away at the computer on her lap--I was left with no more understanding of the girl who was simultaneously the bane of my existence and, quite possibly, someone I wanted to kiss. 

The feeling wasn’t exactly new. There were multiple times in my 20 years on this planet when I had considered it. There was the time it actually happened, when we were nine and in the garden and she seriously walked right up to me, grabbed my cheeks in her hands, and pressed her lips to mine. 

She went back to swinging and later ate the last ice lolly that my mum had--and thus started the never-ending debate of whether I loved or hated Harper Coleman. 

She was kind of like a sister--mostly in the sense that she was obnoxious and loud and regularly embarrassed me in front of my friends and certainly in front of my girlfriend. Quinn, however, found Harper to be hilarious and lovely and that made sitting here just a bit awkward. 

When I started dating Quinn, I didn’t think much of it. The fact that she was Harper’s roommate was just a bonus. I mean, after all, Harper and I had long been in a pattern of insulting each other to see who could be the meanest. Dating Quinn seemed like the perfect way to not only bug the crap out of Harper, but also supply myself with a limitless supply of opportunities to piss her off. My favorite past time. 

But when spending more time around Harper made me feel even more unsure than I already had been since she moved to my neighborhood at age six with her extremely American family in tow, I was already in too deep. Quinn was planning holidays and I was getting laid and for some reason, hanging out with Quinn and Harper and their friend Millie wasn’t all that bad. 

So here I was.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” I said, my gaze on her as she looked up suddenly from her laptop. She was completely ignoring my presence, which wasn’t all too unusual for the two of us. When she looked around the room, I realized she’d been so engulfed in her homework that she had failed to notice, until now, that Quinn was in the shower and her and I were alone. 

She reached her hand up to touch her cheek, brushing the crumb off--the last remaining evidence of the bag of crisps she’d been snacking on when I arrived. She rolled her eyes at me, letting out some inaudible mumble before looking back down to her screen. 

I looked back down to my phone, scrolling mindlessly through an app, only somewhat bothered by her attitude. I mean--she was lucky I even brought it up in the first place. “You’re welcome.”

But that was the thing about Harper--she was nothing if not intriguing. For years we were inseparable, playing in the garden or convincing our parents to let us bike down the street past where they could see. And what I learned rather quickly about Harper is that she was never meant to be more than my friend. 

Somehow, somewhere along the lines, that was the label we’d decided upon. And something told me that 14 years was a little too long to go back and undo that. 

Which is why, when I realized that Quinn and Harper were total opposites in every sense of the word, I took the chance and made the decision to spend my time moving on from the childhood thoughts that still seemed to swirl in my mind. 

And when Quinn reappeared from the shower, the smile she offered me lit a spark in my stomach that reminded me of the good decision I’d made. 

“I heard there’s a movie in the first floor lounge,” Harper spoke suddenly, looking up at both of us as Quinn searched for a pair of shorts in the drawers beneath her bed. 

I stopped scrolling on my phone--the idea of going didn’t sound miserable, but sitting on the floor and hoping that some sort of projection system the resident supervisors in our building rigged up would work didn’t sound ideal.

Quinn reached for her hairbrush and let out a sigh as she turned to face Harper--who still sat criss-cross on her bed. “I think Harry and I were going to just stay here and do some homework--but you should go!”

“Yeah, you should go,” I told her. 

She stared at me with an unimpressed look on her face, not bothering to mask her displeasure. I stifled a laugh--unsure of what had bothered her in my words, but she looked over to Quinn before looking back at me.

It wasn’t that Harper didn’t have the right to be in her own room, but sometimes it felt like she did the exact opposite of whatever I suggested. 

“Maybe I’ll stay and finish this paper,” she shrugged, her eyes locked on mine as Quinn grabbed some clothes from her closet, disappearing back into the bathroom to dress. 

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at her lousy attempt at our metaphorical tug-of-war. 

“Will you ever give us some time alone?” I whispered, a hint of anger in my voice as I dropped my phone and rested my head against the wall above Quinn’s bed. 

“You have plenty of alone time, I go out almost every night on the weekend,” she shot back, clearly offended by my accusation. 

Harper was one of those stubborn people--the kind that would be difficult just for the sake of being difficult but if she knew you found her to be difficult she’d only be more difficult. Make any sense? Good. That’s Harper. 

“Yeah, asshat,” I rolled his eyes again at her. “We’re out on the weekends too. I mean when we’re just hanging out, you know--when we could get busy.”

She didn’t seem to get it--she didn’t seem to understand that my intimate relationship with Quinn was considered highly important to me. The way I saw it: things were great in bed. Outside of bed? Things were fine. Mediocre at best. Maybe that made me a bit of a knob for even admitting that, but the way I saw it, I needed to maintain a good sex life with Quinn if I wanted to keep the relationship afloat. If you took that off the table, there wasn’t much there. 

“You’re disgusting,” she pulled a face and hopped down from her bed after shutting her laptop.

I offered Quinn a smile when she reappeared from the bathroom, now dressed in pyjamas. “Maybe we can watch a movie here, babe,” I said as she climbed to join me on the bed. 

Harper pulled a sweatshirt over her head and shot me daggers, but I simply smirked at her in return. Quinn let out a noise of pleasure as she came to cuddle up next to me. 

“Catch ya on the flipside,” Harper saluted us before heading out the door--barely making eye contact as it slammed shut behind her. 

“Sometimes I feel like she hates us,” Quinn said quietly, handing me the remote to find a movie or show to watch. 

I waved her off, shaking my head casually. “Harper hates me, if anything. Not you.”

She shifted away from me, putting distance between us so she could look me in the eye, a smirk on her face. “What did you ever do to her, anyway?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing slightly at her playful accusation. I set the remote down and raised my eyebrows at her--taking in the way her wet brown hair fell around her shoulders. Quinn--who was short and sweet and maybe (possibly) a bit immature, was the exact opposite of Harper. She was polite and somewhat shy and she spent a good 15 minutes perfecting the blush on her cheeks and the way her hair curled every morning before heading to class. 

Most days, Harper would throw on a shirt and jeans without checking to see if anything matched. She’d throw her hair in a bun and show up to our Societies of the World class. 

“I didn’t do anything to her,” I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly pulled into thought about the history between me and the girl who grew up down the street. “I pushed her down the slide once, but other than that, can’t think of anything.”

It wasn’t necessarily true--I mean, I could name a number of things that made Harper Coleman curse the day I was born. Like the time I put a whoopie cushion under the cushion on her couch at her 9th birthday party or the night when I crashed a slumber party she was having with my sister and her sister and sent an embarrassing picture of her to a chat room. 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Quinn reached for the remote and started to scroll through netflix. “She’s a good person, you know. Good roommate, too.”

I didn’t respond--I didn’t know how. What was I supposed to say? Yes, I’m aware. So aware, in fact, that sometimes I question if I have feelings for her or if I’ve just lost my mind and gone absolutely mental.

Quinn didn’t push, though, which was one of her better qualities. We fell into a comfortable silence that left me thinking about Harper until I was able to get her out of my head--only by bringin my lips to Quinn’s and eventually getting busy beneath the sheets--that was, until Harper (in all of her American glory) barged in and ruined my life--but it’s okay, I was used to it. 

**

The walk across the quad and back to my campus apartment was colder than usual. The fall air was settling into London and a text came across my phone--just a heart emoji from Quinn--as I rode the elevator up to my floor. When I opened the door to my room, I heard Liam in the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he opened the door and greeted me in a pair of shorts. “Where were you?”

“Quinn and Harper’s room,” I said, sitting on my bed as I pulled my leather boots off. Liam picked up his toothbrush and reached for the toothpaste on the counter. 

“How are they?”

I let out a sigh and thought about how to possibly answer his question. Luckily--or unluckily, rather--Liam was perceptive enough to know that something was off. He narrowed his eyes as he brushed his teeth, urging me--without words--to say what was on my mind. 

“Harper walked in on me and Quinn having sex so that kind of put a damper on the night,” I let out a chuckle, running a hand through my hair as his eyes widened. 

He spit into the sink and then started brushing again, speaking around the toothbrush in his mouth. “Of course she did,” he laughed. 

“The problem is that the more time I spend with Harper the less,” I paused, unsure of how to even word my thoughts and feelings. 

Liam spit once more and then wiped at his mouth. “The less what?

“The less I dislike her,” I said, looking up at him. He paused for a second, and when I didn’t continue, he let out a stark laugh, leaning against the door frame as he crossed his arms. 

“Mate, you and Harper are either going to end up married and bitching at each other for the rest of your lives, or one of you will murder the other in the middle of the night. S’anyone’s guess, really.”

I stood from the bed and rolled my eyes, pulling my shirt off over my head and tossing it at him. He swatted it to the floor, still amused by his own joke. 

“I don’t understand--why is it such a bad thing to hate Harper less?”

I let out a noise of displeasure and walked to my closet, reaching for a new t-shirt. I turned to look at him, letting my eyebrows climb north as I spoke. “How am I supposed to interact with her? We’ve only ever given each other shit and if I start to actually have feelings or something and I--”

Liam cut me off, his jaw dropping open as. “Feelings? Hold up. Like--you might actually like her?”

“No, I didn’t mean that--I just--I dunno, okay?” My cheeks were hot and my stomach was suddenly tied in a knot. Liam seemed to gain composure and smirk--albeit slightly--as he scratched at the back of his neck. 

“Makes sense, really,” he shrugged. 

I walked towards him, entering into the bathroom as he stepped aside to give me space. “What do you mean?” 

Another shrug of his shoulders--his smirk only grew as I reached for my own toothbrush and ran it under the water. “You two having feelings for each other--that would explain why you’re both absolute wankers to each other.”

“I don’t think she has feelings for me,” I shook my head, watching as I squeezed the toothpaste onto the blue and white bristles. She couldn’t. There was no way. 

Sure--maybe I’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss Harper Coleman. I guess I was always a little bit curious as to what all of the boys in school found so enchanting about her. But that was the thing--Harper had a laugh that made your head turn in her direction. She had a smile that seemed to find it’s way to your face, even if you fought it (trust me, I’ve tried). She had a way about her that made disliking her difficult, even though I fought really hard. 

So maybe that was why I’d told myself for so long that I couldn’t stand Harper. Maybe I’d spent so much time convincing myself that she was loud and obnoxious and annoying (which was all true) because I was too afraid to admit that I wasn’t above her charm. 

And perhaps, if I stopped telling myself just how annoying she was for a mere second, I would have realized a bit sooner that I could stand her. In fact, I found her quite enjoyable. 

Liam reached up a hand to slap me on the back, making eye contact in the mirror. “What a plot twist that would be, right? You and Harper,” he laughed, shaking his head as he made his way back into his bedroom. She shut the door behind him after a heavy sigh, leaving me alone with the sound of running water and an even stronger desire to kiss Harper Coleman. 

**

If it weren’t for the revelation that Liam had so kindly brought into my mind, and said revelation keeping me up well past my bedtime, I wouldn’t need the second cup of coffee I was currently waiting in line for. 

Harper--clad in her green apron and hat with The Counter logo plastered on it--looked flustered. She hurried from the till to the espresso machine as Millie, her ever-faithful partner-in-crime, stifled a laugh as Harper nearly slipped on a spilled latte on the floor. 

“Hey,” I said, stepping up to the register once the girl in front of me stepped aside with her coffee in tow. 

“What can I get started for you?” She asked--her voice almost robotic as she scanned my face. Was I supposed to address it? Was I supposed to apologize that she’d maybe seen below the belt and definitely saw more of her roommate that she’d likely planned?

“Just a large coffee, black,” I said abruptly, my eyes on her as she reached forward to punch a button on the cash register. 

She turned away from me without another word, grabbing a cup from the stack and placing it below the coffee spout. She pressed a button, letting it fill nearly to the brim as I offered Millie a tight-lipped smile. 

She barely kept my gaze, heading to the back stockroom before I cleared my throat. 

“Sorry about last night,” I said, bringing my eyes back to her as she turned around and reached for a lid. She snapped it on, brought the coffee back to the register and handed it to me, wiping her hands on her apron before punching more buttons on the register.

I knew this version of Harper well. This was the version I’d get every so often when I’d really done it. Like the time I told Daisie Whitley--someone arguably more popular than Harper in Year 5--that Harper slept with a stuffed animal. I hadn’t meant to out her like that, but I was always curious as to where her line was. 

One day she’d give it right back to me and the next she’d get offended, sulk away and inevitably wait for me to seek her out. I’d ride my bike over to her house, ask her if she wanted to walk to the petrol station to get some candy, and all would be back to normal. 

“It’s fine, that’ll be two seventy-five.”

I don’t think it worked that way, now. 

I reached for my wallet, feeling rather defeated as I felt her fingers brush against mine. She barely batted an eye and deposited the cash in the till. “Keep the change,” I said, offering a smile before I was pushed away by the impatient glances of the customer behind me. 

**

Quinn was just about to knock on the door of our friends’ flat when the stairwell door swung open--laughter erupting from the other side. 

I’d been dealing with a bit of a kindness hangover. After seeing Harper at The Counter and then spending the afternoon with Quinn, I realized that I was being ridiculous and was probably best of going back to business as usual: being a prat to Harper and hoping she’d do me a favor and be the same in return. 

Mille and Harper nearly stumbled out of the stairwell--the elevator was broken and I’d just heard Quinn complain for the entirety of the eight flights up. The last thing I needed was to hear the two of them complain as well. 

“Oh, hey!” Quinn smiled at them over her shoulder--completely distracted from her previous task of knocking on the door.  “I had no idea you guys were coming, we would have waited for you!”

“You guys are hanging out with Preston and Katie?” Millie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion as Harper offered a polite smile in my direction before looking me up and down.

I placed a hand on Quinn’s back, reassuring myself that I was doing the right thing. “Yeah, Katie and I are in a biology class together,” Quinn explained, her smile still bright on her face. 

Sometimes I felt bad for Quinn. I knew that Harper and Millie didn’t exactly love her. Quinn--with everything in her heart--just wanted to be sweet and kind and play nice. But that wasn’t always Harper’s style. 

“You’re taking a biology class?” Millie pressed further, Harper stifled a laugh and clamped a hand on Millie’s shoulder--I rolled my eyes and shot Harper narrowed eyes. 

“That’s great!” Harper spoke. “We were at Millie’s beforehand, I should have texted you to check if you were coming out tonight.”

I let out a groan--if only to remind all of them that we were still in the hallway and not in Katie and Preston’s living room (where Liam was waiting) with a beer in hand. And on top of that, Harper and Quinn getting along didn’t exactly make my life easy.

Wouldn’t it just be easier if they hated each other? Harper found Quinn to be annoying and immature and rather air-headed--she’d made that plenty clear when she complained to both of our mothers on Family Weekend of our first year. So, you’d think, that would lead Harper and Millie to want to do anything but end up at the same party as us. 

But it wasn’t that easy. I wouldn’t have met Quinn if it weren’t for Harper. I wouldn’t get to spend time with Harper if it weren’t for Quinn. Now you see my dilemma. 

I nudged Quinn forward, Millie and Harper followed behind us as we rounded the corner in the headed inside the flat. We knew most of the people inside--groups gathered here and there as a game of beer pong occupied the center of the living room.

It was dark inside, save for the light from a plastic disco ball that sat on the kitchen table. Music played through speakers near a TV as I scanned the crowd for familiar faces.

Millie hugged a friend from our theatre group beside me dragged me towards the kitchen to greet her friends from the Positive Psychology club. 

And that’s how the night seemed to go. I followed around Quinn and chatted with friends about their summer--and for the life of me, I couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl with blonde hair and a big enough attitude for all 50 states. 

I saw her with Niall, I saw her laugh with Millie and take a selfie with Katie. I felt Quinn’s arms wrap around my waist with a sleepy look in her eyes after the I won a game of pong with Liam. So when she started to nuzzle into me and I could smell her flowery perfume, I took it as my cue to kiss her forehead and suggest we head out. 

“You have to tell Harper we’re leaving,” she said quickly, her big eyes staring up at me as if her life depended on telling my childhood friend that we were headed out. I sighed, not bothering to put up a fight as I scanned the room.

When I couldn’t find her in the kitchen and she wasn’t in the bathroom, Millie pointed to a closed door--one to the bedroom of Niall Horan.

He was on the footy team with my roommate. He had a knack for getting laid and somehow never seemed to find Harper to be as loud and boisterous as she was. Rumor had it he’d slept with 13 girls in our first year alone, but I knew for a fact that Harper hadn’t been one of them. But that only seemed to make him want her more. In fact, since the day we stepped foot on campus, he seemed to be eager to make her his conquest. 

He’d asked me about her during our first week on campus when he found out that I lived with his teammate. Asked me to invite her to their first home match and introduce him. When I got nervous and stumbled over my words while looking for a good reason to never let that happen--I may or may not have told him that Harper had done her fair share of sleeping around. 

Sure, she’d flirt with guys and she’d had her fair share of interested suitors, but I was quite positive that Harper Coleman had never slept with anyone. Which, ironically, I found endearing and adorable and somehow extremely attractive.

When I processed what a closed door could mean and pushed it open to find them alone, standing awfully close and with little light in the room except for a lamp on the bedside table--the words kind of just poured out of me. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the time of night--or maybe it was just the fact that I was stifling feelings for my hometown neighbor. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Can I help you?” She shot back quickly, her eyebrows knit together as she stared at me intently. Niall--who’d already taken a step back from her--seemed to look between us as if he had no clue what was going on. I couldn’t blame him. 

The heat in my chest was warmer than before--the urge to throttle Niall seemed to rise and fall as I took a deep breath, clearing my throat and licking at my dry lips. 

Was something happening? Had I ruined it? Why did I care and what did it mean if I did?

I didn’t have time to think that all through, because before I knew it, Harper stuck her head out towards me, urging me to respond and squash the awkward silence that now filled Niall Horan’s messy bedroom.

I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak--hoping I didn’t blow it and say something I’d regret later. “Quinn wanted me to tell you we were leaving.”

Instead of waiting for a response--instead of apologizing for barging in or interrupting or whatever it was that I’d done, I turned and slammed the door behind me. 

And when I found Quinn near the front door and laced my fingers through hers, I realized that my walk home would be laced with a feeling I wasn’t all that used to in regards to Harper Coleman and her sexual endeavors: jealousy.

#ss #seed and spark #harry styles #harper coleman #mc #harry styles fiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fics #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic au #harry styles au #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction

[bangtan-gal]

Wet Cement

Wet Cement

Yang Jeongin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, pretty basic, his is like, the most normal one, crack

Word Count:6.2k

Abilities: Empath, Charmer

Art wasn’t your thing, but you found yourself in the class when your best friend, Remi, dragged you into the slightly broken down studio. The first several classes sucked; the teacher droning on and on about different techniques, old couples slowing down the class as they had the instructor repeat the easy instructions, and all in all, you were forced to act like you liked something that you despised. Remi ignored your complaints and whines, telling you that it was a “learning experience.”

Yeah right.

When you stepped into class today, Remi was nowhere to be seen. Figuring she was late, you sat down at your usual table and drummed your fingers noisily on the desk as you waited. The class started and she was still nowhere to be seen. You frowned, half-heartedly accepting the piece of paper the instructor handed you. If she ditched you, there would definitely be a bloody mess somewhere.

Five minutes into the class, the door obnoxiously dinged. You ignored it as you stared at the paper and only looked up when the chair beside you became occupied. Instead of long, light brown hair, chubby cheeks, and shiny blue eyes, you were greeted by short and red-dyed hair, sharp cheekbones, and deeply colored eyes. Your gazes met for a moment and then you quickly looked away, cursing your stupid friend. Now you’d have to take this miserable class with some stranger beside you.

As you sat there, thinking of a million different ways you could murder Remi, the instructor talked to the newcomer.

“Yang Jeongin.”

His voice was sweet and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flash a quick smile. Heat spread over your cheeks and you tried your best to focus on the paper before you. As class went by, your elbows kept bumping, knees kept knocking, and fingers would brush each time the two of you reached for the same tool. Neither one of you said a thing as you scratched and scribbled aimlessly on your papers.

“Well, good job everyone, I’ll see you on Thursday!” The lady chirped, clasping her hands together and sporting a smile that was way too big. You sighed and grabbed your purse, ready to dart for the door.

A tap on your arm stopped you.

“Is this class… like actually worth it?” Jeongin whispered, side-eyeing the teacher who was barely five feet away. You glanced at her and then back to him, shrugging. You were the last person to ask—you still hated art. You hated looking at it, attempting it, or just in general, thinking about it.

You loudly sighed, trying to embrace your inner Positive Polly.

“Y-yes?”

Well, that worked.

The red-haired boy raised an eyebrow at you. You pursed your lips together in an awkward smile and then started backing away. You maintained eye contact until you ran into a table, tripped, and then tried (and failed) to regain your footing. Your eyes pinched shut as you sat on your ass, on the cold, nasty art floor that was covered in dried paints, eraser shavings, and other shit.

It didn’t help that when you opened your eyes and saw that everyone who was left was staring at you. Jeongin’s face was squished up as he tried to keep his mouth closed and the laughter inside. When your gaze’s met, he looked away and a small bubble of laughter escaped which then turned into a whole fit.

You stood up with a groan, quickly whirling around and racing for the door. Jeongin shouted hey and as you stumbled out onto the busy plaza, the boy caught up and crashed into you. He caught you before you could fall on your face and you stood there, hands over your face and grumbles coming out around them. How was your life so unfortunate that you just had to keep embarrassing yourself in front of this cute boy?

“Cute?” You mumbled, pulling your hands away from your face. Where the fuck did that come from? He was annoying. He was the one who caused you to fall the first time and almost fall the second. But he also saved you from falling the second time. “Whatever.”

“Are you okay?” The boy asked wearily, leaning around you to try and look at you. You stared at him from the corner of your eye before you coughed and nodded.

“Just allergies.”

What?

He bit his lip and a soft gasp of laughter escaped him.

“So… what you said earlier sounded more like a question. Is the class really worth it?” He asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You blinked and then turned to meet his gaze. You exhaled again.

“I hate art.” Well, that wasn’t what you meant to say.

He opened his mouth, closed it, pointed to the building you just left and then to you, and then opened his mouth again.

“Okay, bye! Good to meet you!” You shrieked and then hurried off.

➻➻➻➻➻

When you woke up Thursday morning, you really questioned if getting out of bed was worth it. Remi had gone on vacation to 127 District and wouldn’t be back for a couple weeks. You hated the class, you hated the teacher, the other students, the creaky stools, the weirdly slanted sunroof, the outdoors, people in general, socializing, sunshine, hot weather, cold weather—

You were getting carried away.

(But the only thing you really liked was your bed because nothing could go wrong there.)

As you slugged out of bed and got dressed, figuring you may as well since Remi paid for the class, you prayed that Jeongin wouldn’t be there. That your weird answers would scare him away and you could just have your own table until Remi returned. You stepped out of your apartment, groaning at the heat that hit you.

The walk to the studio was miserable. It was hot and sticky and people kept bumping into you. For once, you were actually happy when you stepped into the studio, the AC running over your body. You moved down the aisle, going for your table and then stopped. A boy with red hair sat on one of the stools, head resting in his arms. You grumbled as you threw your purse to the floor beside the available seat and then sat down. When you looked at the boy, your eyes widened. He was deadass sleeping.

You looked around, almost as if to say: “does anyone else see this shit?” but no one else seemed to care. In silence, you set up your portion of the desk, your OCD kicking in as you straightened out the paper and pencils. You bit your lip, struggling with one pencil that seemed to decide that rolling around was a good-fucking-idea.

“That’s cute.”

You jumped, your knee smacking into the bottom of the desk and sending supplies flying. Eyes darted towards you as pencils and paintbrushes noisily rolled over the floor. You grumbled an apology as you slid off the chair to pick them up. Aggression roiled through you as you slammed them back down on the table and sat down with a huff. You turned to the red-haired boy with a scowl, which only deepened when he was making the same squishy face as yesterday.

“Don’t laugh at me, this is your fault!” You hissed, pointing a finger at him.

He giggled.

“How? It wasn’t my knee that bumped the table,” he pointed out. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah but—”

You weren’t given time to rebuttal as the instructor started up class. You shot one last glare at the boy before you pretended to pay attention. When the teacher stopped talking and people picked up their pencils, you followed suit, and started doodling whatever came to mind. You’d done this the past several classes, and so far, you hadn’t been caught. Or at least, the teacher didn’t really care.

“That doesn’t look like nature,” Jeongin whispered as he leaned over to stare at your paper. You elbowed him.

“Nature can be whatever the fuck it wants to be,” you retorted.

“So you mean I could draw a dick on my paper and get away with it?”

You started choking on nothing, a mix of laughter and coughs escaping you. You hit your chest a couple times, sending an unimpressed look the boy’s way. He didn’t seem to care though as he leaned back in his chair, looking way too proud. You frowned and went back to drawing circles and sticks and other random things. You managed to ignore the boy for several minutes.

You lost your shit when you looked over at his paper by accident. There wasn’t just one dick on his paper, but a ton. Your mouth dropped open and you covered it as you tried to keep in your laughter. He finally noticed your stare and the two of you stared at one another, both of you trying to keep in your laughter. Suddenly, you didn’t have such an indifference towards the boy. You’d never met somebody with such lack of filter, such an uncaring attitude.

“I can’t believe this,” you mumbled and then giggled. He smirked and then chuckled as well.

You ended up surviving the rest of the class, a small smile on your face and it would widen every time you looked over at the hundreds of dicks on Jeongin’s paper. It got even better when you had to turn in your work. Jeongin proudly signed the page and then handed it into the instructor. You both watched as her eyes bugged out and then she accepted it with an unsure smile.

“So, no allergies today?” He asked, bumping his shoulder into yours as the two of you wandered along the sidewalk. You frowned.

“No.”

Jeongin snorted and then his attention was diverted to his cellphone. You shamelessly peeked over his shoulder, trying to read the text. The redhead glanced at you before he flicked your forehead. You backed up, pressing your hand to your face and sending an annoyed look his way. He typed in an answer to the next, a soft sigh escaping him, before he turned to you with a somewhat melancholy smile.

“Do… do you wanna go grab some lunch, maybe?” He asked, shoes scuffing at the cement. You raised an eyebrow.

“Is this how the boy, who drew male genitalia all over his paper and shamelessly turned it into the teacher, asks out a girl?” You scoff.

“Hey!” He huffed, “who said I was asking you out? You’re nosy and ugly!”

You wiggled your eyes and pinched his elbow before you skipped off. The boy followed you and the two of you argued over a place to eat. You blamed it on the fact that there were too many places to eat in the Upper City. He blamed you, saying that you were too stubborn for your own good.

“Whyyyyy, it’s good food though,” he whined as you dragged him away from the italian place.

“I want burgers dumbass,” you snipped.

He wrinkled his nose. “My fucking god—burgers? Why not chicken? Fish? Pork? You want a cow of all things. Fake beef is disgusting anyways. At least fake chicken is close to the real thing!”

You opened your mouth and then closed it. You tilted your head curiously at the boy, not caring that the two of you had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. People grumbled curses at you as they shoved past you. He stared back at you and then scratched the back of his neck. You’d never had the luxury of real meat or fresh produce. Who was this mysterious boy, who didn’t give two fucks about others opinions, laughed at strangers, and yet, lived the life of perfection?

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically, “fake beef is totally disgusting.”

He went silent and his gaze lowered to his shoes. You pursed your lips and the two of you stood there, letting the stream of people pass by.

“Sorry, we can go get burgers. I’ll pay.”

The boy turned and then reached for your hand, pulling you along with him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as his fingers wrapped delicately around your hand. The two of you finally made it to the joint. It was mostly empty and the two of you sat down at the far corner, a perfect view of the busy street. The two of you were silent through most of the meal, not speaking until you had finished your burger and the redhead carefully poked at his.

“Are you from the Upper City?” You queried. You played mindlessly with the napkin in front of you, tearing it up and creating a little mountain on your plate.

He paused, eyes glancing down as he let his thoughts run.

“Well… I grew up in the Upper City, but I live in the Deepy City now,” he explained and when he looked up and saw your face, he rolled his eyes. “No. We don’t party there all the time. It’s actually a pretty chill place. Maybe you should come visit sometime uppity girl.”

You snorted and blew your pile of napkin at him. He swatted them away, running a hand through his hair, and then flung his straw at you. You giggled, catching the straw before it could get you.

“Isn’t the Deep City… like gang infested?” You stage-whispered, leaning across the table. The redhead sighed again, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

“What is up with people and assumptions these days?” Then he trailed off, eyes glazing over. He shrugged. “I guess you’re not wrong. There’s a constant stream of crime, fights, and… depending on the day, it’s not the safest place at night.

“But, I mean, if you’re on the main street, it’s actually really safe. Most of the fights are on the outer edge and that’s just because territory is easier to control. It’s absolutely gorgeous at night. Fairy lights, every Friday there’s a live band, and the water features look really cool at night. Plus, the street food is fucking amazing.”

You nodded as you listened. The image floated in your mind and it sounded wonderful. When you were little, a carnival came to the Upper City from JYP and it was magical. It hasn’t come back since and you’ve always wanted to relive that moment. The Upper City was the “rich people” city of District 9, but it wasn’t pretty. Some houses and apartments were gorgeous, but at the end of the day, it was plain.

“You know… today is Thursday,” Jeongin hummed.

“Oh my fucking god, no way,” you gasped, “I better go put that on my calendar.”

He wasn’t a fan of your sarcasm.

“And that means tomorrow is Friday: possibly, just possibly, you could come down to the Deep City and experience the experience?”

The offer warmed your heart, but you would never let the boy in front of you know what a sap you actually are. So you rolled your eyes as you picked at your nails, pretending to weigh the pros and cons. The honest truth was that the only thing that filled your mind was pros and in some way you were scared of them.

Specifically the part where you brain decided that a pretty big pro would be spending time with Jeongin.

➻➻➻➻➻

You felt stupid. You’d spent hours trying to put out some cute, chic outfit in order to somehow flatter the boy. And then, when the two of you met up at the Main Plaza in Upper City, he stood in jeans, a t-shirt, and an old ratty flannel. It was awful sitting there in your fancy “beach” (maybe beaches existed before the Collapse, but now they were a figment of imagination) pants, a fancy, short-cut shirt, along with your nice pair of sneakers and some carefully picked out jewelry.

If Jeongin noticed your attempts, he didn’t comment on them. Nor did he make fun of how overdressed you were. It felt even worse as the two of you sat on the bus together and you swore to god that every-fucking-one was staring at you. Was it such an odd sight, the two of you? A pretty boy, who didn’t even have to try to look like he just stepped out of a magazine and some simple, psychopath that was you.

“Does that old lady really have to stare into my soul?” You whined to him. He glanced her way and then waved, a big smile appearing on his face. The lady looked away, skin turning an ashy white. Your jaw dropped open.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Sometimes if you let people know that they’re staring, they’ll leave you alone.”

You just stared at him.

He waved at you.

You smacked his hand away. “Asshole.”

He laughed and the bus quickly came to a stop after, a scratchy voice announcing that you were in the Heart of the Deep City. Jeongin stood up, quickly grasping your hand and pulling you along with him. You stumbled off the bus behind him and glanced around.

The sun was just starting to set, casting a pink and orange glow across the towering buildings. Fairy lights were starting to flicker to life and you could see a faint glow in each of the fountains. People bustled about and you were glad to see that most of them were dressed like you. Now, it was Jeongin that looked like the idiot. You snickered to yourself, causing the boy in question to send you a weird stare.

“It doesn’t get good until real late, but until then, I can give you a quick tour,” he hummed.

The two of you made your way down the street. You passed hundreds of people and you saw a huge difference between the Upper City and the Deep City very quickly. Not just in setting, but in the people. Each one of them had something more different, more unique to them. Apparently, coloring your hair was a huge thing here. You rarely saw it in the Far Country or where you lived. You’d done it once as a kid and had been considered a sociopath, getting kicked out of class for the day, not allowed to return until it was back to its original color.

“Oooohhhh, this place is really good,” he said, pointing out a Korean grill. Then he leaned into you, “it’s run by a gang and they casually steal meat from the JYP district.”

You stared at him in disbelief and then back to the restaurant. It looked quaint—cute. You could faintly see a woman bustling around in there, looking too sweet to possibly work for a gang.

“You’re lying,” you grumbled.

“Nope,” he chirped, grinning like a maniac, “I’ll take you there someday and you’ll see: real beef. It’s a family gang, so they’re more friendly. But since you’ve already had dinner, we’re getting ice cream.”

You barely registered the last part after you heard the ‘someday’. The promise of a future had your heart stuttering and face heating up as the boy continued to drag you down the street. You didn’t fall this easy, you shouldn’t fall this easy. You didn’t know him that well—he was a total stranger—but yet, the idea of falling victim to his charms, wasn’t that bad. Because, as childish as it sounded, you could already picture a future with him.

The farther you were dragged into the city, the more shocked you were. Children ran around, dressed in bright colors and tossing around balls. Among the ocean of people, you barely spotted anyone that looked the same. There were carvings in the cement and a million apple blossom trees, that were just gorgeous. Fairy lights of various colors hung from overhangs and patios. Buildings made purely of glass sparkled in the dusk.

It actually felt… safe.

“This is crazy,” you mumbled as Jeongin stopped in front of an ice cream truck.

He grinned. “I told you. What flavor do you want?”

“Just chocolate,” you hummed.

He swiftly ordered and thanked the man once two cups were handed to you. He gave you yours and then led you down the street, where a bunch of stone benches surrounded a beautiful water feature. You quickly noted how small the bench was as you sat down. Your thighs pressed together, but you couldn’t squirm away without causing one of you to sprawl onto the ground. You tried to focus solely on your ice cream and not on the warmth that radiated from his body.

It was hard until the boy stole a scoop of your ice cream.

You blinked, mouth widening.

He sent you a cheeky grin.

“You dick!” You snapped, trying to cover your ice cream from any other attacks.

Jeongin didn’t reply as he simply dug back into his own cup, letting his eyes wander over the scenery around you. You followed his lead, watching as the world only became brighter when it should’ve become darker. As the sun sunk lower and lower into the horizon, the energy of the city went higher and higher.

It was all ruined when you noticed that Jeongin took another scoop of your ice cream, although this time some of his ice cream was on his spoon still.

You gasped, “did you just contaminate my ice cream?”

“What? Me? Never,” he exclaimed, looking around in horror.

“I can’t believe you!”

“I can’t believe whoever did this, either!” He mocked and then winked at you. You glared at him, grumbling as you handed him your now empty cup. Jeongin took it with a frown, mumbling something about how he wasn’t your slave. As he got up to search for a trashcan, he paused, almost as if remembering something, and then turned to you. “You gotta come with me.”

You stubbornly crossed your arms. “Why?”

“It’s a beautiful place, but don’t be fooled. People have been attacked during broad daylight here and other people won’t even bat an eyelash. Everyone’s number one priority are themselves. I’m not going to let you get jumped,” he said and held out a hand to help you up. You obliged, clasping his hand. The two of you wandered around until you found a trashcan.

As the two of you walked along, you stumbled across a part of the sidewalk that was blocked off. The redhead curiously glanced over the yellow tape and then sent a grin your way, pointing down. You walked over, noting the wet cement that lay there.

“Should I draw a dick in it?” He queried.

You opened your mouth, ready to protest, but the boy was already crouching down. You huffed and bent down beside him, watching as he poked in the shape. What was up with him and dicks? What was up with YOU and dicks? You crouched down next to him, ignoring his little work of art as you pressed your hand into the wet cement. It clung to your hand for a moment and then you pulled it back, satisfaction running through you at the hand print. Jeongin watched you and then placed his hand next to yours, a bigger handprint appearing in the cement beside yours.

“The perfect signature for our first date,” he declared.

“Yeah, sure” you huffed, wiping your hand off on his flannel and dragging him away. You wandered closer towards the middle of the city, wondering when the Friday night events would start up.

“A band should be starting up anytime now,” he mentioned and then you heard the start of a song somewhere nearby. Jeongin started sprinting and you raced after him, struggling to catch your breath once you reached the stage. You didn’t recognize the song and you weren’t sure if the redhead did, but he didn’t seem to care as he softly started to sway to the beat.

The mass of people was surprising. People bounced together in groups, hands raised, and joyful cheers filling the air. You kept yourself pressed to Jeongin, your body starting to sway with his as the two of you let the feeling roll over you. The band was perfect, but yet it gave you that impression. Giggles bubbled from you as the song sped up and Jeongin grasped your hand, forcing you to start jumping with the rest of the crowd.

You were so close at this point, your faces inches apart as the two of you bobbed to the beat. His eyes sparkled under the bright city light and his hair started to fall out of place, soft strands of deep red falling along his eyebrows. The urge to brush them out of his face was strong and you didn’t fight it as you reached up, your fingers running along his smooth skin. The two of you both ceased all movement, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your cheeks were the same color as his hair as his gaze dropped to your lips.

He licked his own before meeting your stare once more.

It was sweet and soft. His lips just barely there as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. You leaned into him, deepening the kiss as you did so. His hands dropped from your face to your waist and he pulled you tightly against him. It was no longer the two of you in a crowd, but the two of you in an empty world. He tasted like vanilla and his mouth was still slightly cold, a contrast to the warm press of his chest against yours. You carded your hand through his hair and when the two of you pulled apart, your eyes stayed closed for a moment longer, a soft breath puffing out between you.

When you opened them, you were greeted by the soft smile on his face. He rubbed circles on your back and your breathing slowed as you just let yourself fall into him. The two of you stood there, barely moving or breathing as you absorbed the moment. Then a soft laugh escaped him.

When you looked up, you were surprised to see white flurries fall down around you. You reached out, letting one fall on your skin and breathed out when a cold burst through the spot. It was odd, because as the snow came down, it was so warm. People’s cheers grew louder as the flurries fell upon them.

“How crazy is that?” You mused, reaching out to catch more and watching in fascination as they melted.

“Insane,” he whispered, but he was no longer looking at the sky. You refused to meet his heated stare as you looked up into the dark sky. You stuck out your tongue, giggling when several landed and then melted. “Truly insane.”

➻➻➻➻➻

Something took off between you two that day. The two of you hung out together almost everyday. Sometimes it was just lounging around in the Upper City and other times it was wreaking havoc in the Deep City. You also went to Memory Maze for the first time and after getting lost twice in a matter of five minutes and being on the other side of Jeongin’s teasing, you decided you never wanted to go back.

Just as he said, he took you to the Korean grill. Indeed, the food was amazing, and even more so, the beef. It ruined burgers for you and now the idea of eating whatever rubbery stuff they served you was awful. Sure, cows didn’t lead the lives of fresh air that they used to (although, you struggled to imagine what the world was like before the Collapse. Did animals really roam free? Were there actually creatures that could move through the sky?)

Art class became less miserable. Of course, it really helped that Jeongin continued to draw dicks on his paper and shamelessly turn it into the teacher. It was amazing, he got more creative every time. When you were told to draw a building, he very casually drew genitalia shaped bushes. The teacher stopped being surprised every time and instead just looked down right done, but it didn’t get any less funny. Sure, it was immature, but where was the joy in life if you didn’t act your age every once in a while? It’s no fun if you don’t drink before you’re legal.

Now the two of you sat in his room, giggling as he recounted his latest interaction with the mean lady who ran the convenience store down the street.

“She fucking told me that I look stupid with my dyed hair!” He groaned, laying on his back. You snorted, playing with his hair.

“How dare she,” you huffed, shaking your head. He sighed, looking up at you.

“She must be a psychopath,” he decided.

“There is no other reasonable explanation,” you agreed.

The two of you laughed again. Your head fell on his chest, still giggling. He rested a hand a top of your head, his laughter slowly dying down along with his rapid chest movements. You played with a loose string on his sweater, humming a song. He went silent beneath you and his hand stilled in you hair.

“I love this song,” he whispered. You looked at him from under your lashes. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes glazed over. “My mom used to sing it to me.”

You continued to hum the song, drawing a pattern along his chest. As you opened your mouth to ask a question, the door opened. You sat up on your elbows, meeting the gaze of a blue-haired boy. He paused upon the sight of you two and then shrugged.

“Jeongin, there’s dinner on the table if you want some,” he said and shot you one more questioning stare before he left the room.

“That’s Jisung,” he explained as he sat up. “You hungry?”

You nodded and followed him downstairs. As you walked towards the kitchen, your head lowered. Jisung sat on the couch with another boy and you could feel both their stares tearing into you. Just as you disappeared into the kitchen, you peeked a look at them. Jisung no longer stared, but the other one did, and you were shocked by the bright silver that gleamed at you.

“I see where you get your hair dye from,” you teased as the boy pulled a pizza box from the fridge. He chuckled.

“Yeah, runs in the family I guess,” he said and then paused. He cleared his throat and you didn’t question him on what he meant. From the sounds of it, he lost his own family, and if you were him, you would go looking for another one too.

The two of you ate it silence. You feeling too awkward to talk about anything with the two other boys right on the other side of the wall. Jeongin didn’t force you to talk as he mumbled about random things and occasionally ran his hand over yours. You ate your piece and then handed him the crust, snorting when he practically downed it. He paused to stare at you.

“What? I’m still growing,” he grumbled.

You laughed.

“Sure.”

You went silent again as the silver-eyed boy stepped into the kitchen. He walked over to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of something and a glass. You pretended that you weren’t watching him as he poured himself a quick glass. As he brought it up to his lips, his sleeve moved, and your eyes zeroed in on the tattoo that rested high on his arm. A gray tiger. You’d seen that symbol a million times before.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumbled to Jeongin.

“Down the hall and to the left,” he said as he shoveled another slice into his mouth.

You scrambled away, your heart racing and sweat starting to collect along your collar and hairline. You locked yourself in the grand bathroom, leaning up against the door. Miroh—that was a Miroh tattoo. Why was Jeongin living with someone apart of that gang? Did he know? He had to, the man didn’t try hard to conceal it.

“Most of the fights are on the outer edge and that’s just because territory is easier to control.”

“It’s a family gang, so they’re pretty friendly.”

“I won’t let you get jumped.”

“Yeah, runs in the family I guess.”

Was he apart of the gang?

You closed your eyes and placed your hand over your heart. You were impulsive and careless almost all the time, but you hated assumptions. They were one thing you tried not to commit to, because they ruined lives. You couldn’t just assume that Jeongin was apart of the gang. And if he was, it didn’t make him a bad person. If the person you’ve seen these past few weeks is true, he’s a better person than most.

So, you stepped out the bathroom. As you carefully made your way back towards the kitchen, you stopped when you heard voices. You didn’t want to eavesdrops, but you didn’t just want to walk in mid-conversation either.

“If she doesn’t know what you’re apart of, that means she definitely doesn’t know what you can do,” a voice snapped.

“Would you tell her?” It was Jeongin this time.

“If you’re going to go and fucking fall in love with her, you should!” A different voice this time, sounding a little bit like Jisung.

Was he in love with you?

“Goddammit, Jeongin, just tell her! She’s gonna find out about your abilities sooner or later, you may as well save this relationship before it all crashes and burns!” It was the first voice. You stood there, your heart stopping. Abilities? What the hell does that mean? What can Jeongin do?

Can they all do something?

As the three grew silent, you stood silently for a moment. You backed up towards the bathroom door, loudly letting it swing open. Then you padded down the hallway and slid into the kitchen, glancing around. Jisung and the other boy stood on the other side of the counter, both expressions blank. Jeongin, despite his face being completely blank, you noticed the way his fingers twitched and how his chest heaved a little faster than normal.

“Hey, let’s go upstairs to my room,” he murmured, wrapping an arm over your shoulder. You walked along with him, refusing to spare his comrades another glance.

When the door closed behind you, he sighed and sagged against it. He stared up at the ceiling for a while. You sat down on his bed, working on your lip. Then Jeongin looked down at you, a shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“We have to talk,” he sighed.

“I know,” you blurted out. He frowned. “You’re apart of Miroh, aren’t you?”

The boy stared at you and you just stared back.

Then he slowly nodded.

“Do you know… about the powers?” He whispered, approaching you. You were surprised he didn’t ask how you knew, but relieved at the same time.

“Vaguely.”

He sat down beside you, his hand reaching for yours. Nothing inside you begged to pull away and you realized that this new revelation meant nothing new. He was still the fire that burned in your lungs and you just wanted to have a future with him.

“It’s… it’s not really my place to talk of the other’s abilities and positions. I… I don’t really know how to explain it, but I um, I can sense others emotions and”—he cleared his throat, eyes searching yours—“control their emotions.”

You stiffened, but your hand didn’t move from his. If anything, it tightened. You opened your mouth, uncertainty flickering through you.

“I-I never used it on you, I fucking swear on my life,” he rushed out, “I… the weird thing about you is that I can’t even reach your emotions. Like, at all. That’s why I was so attracted to you when we first met and then afterward it was just… well just you I guess. But holy fucking shit, Y/N, I would never use my abilities on you even if I could. If I really wanted someone to love me, I’d do it the right way.”

You raised an eyebrow and then smirked.

“Do you swear on all those dicks you drew?”

He paused, eyes widening. Then he laughed loudly, nodding. “For fuck’s sake, yes.”

“Well, then, I guess I can’t question you, even if you are some unnatural thing,” you giggled and then pressed your lips to. When you pulled back, a wide smile on your face, he chuckled again.

“I’ve never fallen for others’ smiles before.”

➻➻➻➻➻

The two of you both ran away, struggling to hold in your laughter. Once you were several blocks away, you burst into loud laughter again. You slapped his chest, stumbling into him.

“I still can’t get used to you doing that, but that was amazing!” You exclaimed and then a snort of laughter escaped you. He struggled to catch his breath, leaning over.

“God, I hold too much power,” he gasped, “she actually fucking did it.”

Maybe you should’ve felt bad for the old lady the owned the convenience store that was only a couple of blocks away, but you didn’t. After endless slanted remarks at Jeongin, she finally got what she deserved. Or at least something that would make her look like a dumbass. Sure, it was immature to use Jeongin’s unicorn abilities to trick someone into dying their hair neon yellow, but who acted their age anyway? Age was like cement that was always wet.

#stray kids #skz #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshots #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin fic #miroh #wet cement

[artificialqueens]

Dance Lessons (BrookexYvie) -ImposterZoe

"Brooke, I need your help," Yvie screams as she burst in the door.

Brooke yelps as she falls from her chair. Yvie dashes in to help her friend up, guilt on her face. "Sorry."

Brooke grunts as she rubs the back of her head.

"What is it?"

Yvie paused, momentarily forgetting why she came in there.

"Oh yeah! You can waltz, right?"

Brooke gives a blank stare. "I'm a dance major."

Yvie lets out an irritated groan. "I know but all the other dance majors I went to said they didn't know how!"

Hurt flashes on Brooke's face. "You had a dance problem and you didn't come straight to me?"

Yvie blushes, simultaneously confused on how she had hurt Brooke's feelings and sorry that she did in the first place.

"I didn't feel like bugging you. Because of all the stuff with Vanessa and shit," Yvie mumbles, Brooke barely catching her words.

Brooke scowls at the mention of her ex. "Yes I can waltz. You taught me."

Yvie froze. "Oh right," she whispers.

Brooke can't stop her laugh. "Why'd you ask?"

Yvie rolls a pencil under her converse. "I… forgot how to waltz," she murmurs.

Brooke really starts to laugh as Yvie's likeness to a tomato grows by the second.

"Can you reteach me or not?" Yvie cried miserably.

Brooke smirks. "Yvie do you remember what happened after you taught me to waltz?"

"We agreed to forget that!" Yvie objects.

Brooke takes a step forward, a devilish look in her eyes.

"No. You agreed to forget it. I remember in vivid detail."

Yvie bit her lip as she took a step back. "Oh yeah? Jog my memory."

Brooke grinned as she slowly backed Yvie into the door.

"Well what I remember, you taught me to waltz." Yvie makes a 'no duh' face.

"But your hands were all over me. 'Correcting my form,' you called it." Brooke ghosts a finger down Yvie's arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"I loved the feeling of your hands on me. You knew that. You dipped me."

Yvie's eyes lock on Brooke's, their intensity matching.

"You kissed me. You let me take control."

She winds a hand around the back of Yvie's neck and pulls her face close. Her voice turned husky.

"You let me fuck you into the floor. You screamed my name."

Brooke leans in, their lips a hair's width apart.

"You let me make you mine."

"Brooke," Yvie whispers breathily.

The girl smiles.

"Brooke," Yvie says again, a bit louder. Brooke's shoulder twitches and a headache forms in the back of her head.

"Brooke!" Yvie yells in her face and Brooke sits up.

She's not standing before Yvie, lips close enough to touch. She's on the floor, with Yvie and her roommate Plastique standing over her.

"What happened?" she groaned, rubbing her head.

Yvie winced and grabbed Brooke's hand. "I kinda burst in to ask you a question and you got scared. You smacked your head against the desk when you fell and knocked yourself out."

Only one thought popped into her head.

"What was the question?"

Yvie carefully helps Brooke stand. "I wanted to know if you could teach me to waltz."

Brooke lets out a soft sigh. "Yeah I can teach you. My dad taught me."

Yvie pulls Brooke in for a hug.  "Thanks Brooke," Yvie purrs in her ear, "I owe you one."

Then she was gone, texting the time and place to Brooke.

Plastique places an ice pack on the back of Brooke's head and let out a low whistle.

"This is gonna be hot. You and Yvie alone, doing the waltz. Finding out that you love each other as you twirl her on the dance floor."

Plastique collapses dramatically on Brooke's bed. "It's like fate."

Brooke rolls her eyes as she presses the ice pack to her scalp. "Plastique, you've been reading way too much sappy fanfiction and drinking white wine."

"Its red," Plastique corrected.

Brooke shrugged. "Whatever it is. I'm just teaching her a dance. No big deal."

Plastique stood. "Ok. So the idea of waltzing with Yvie, being able to touch her, while you both wear tight dance clothes, doesn't turn you on at all?"

Brooke sat in her chair, subconsciously pressing her thighs together. "Of course not. She's like one of my best friends."

Plastique shrugged as made her way to her room. "So was Vanessa."

Brooke's mind stayed on her dream. She'd never fucked Yvie. She never even considered fucking Yvie!

She hears her own voice in her ears. You didn't think about fucking Vanessa either until you did.

Brooke shuts that part of her up. "Yvie's different," she thinks aloud.

"She's gonna be different."

[...]

A couple hours later, Brooke strode into the dance hall. She was kind of surprised to find it deserted. There were usually classes running in all the different rooms.

She walks peeks into each room before she sees Yvie stretching in one.

She stops in the doorway, watching Yvie's body contort as she stretches.

Brooke can't stop herself from dragging her gaze along Yvie's long legs, giving extra attention to her ass. Yvie goes into a backbend, thankfully with her eyes closed, and Brooke marvels at her flat stomach.

Yvie's hands find the floor and she kicks her feet back, standing on her head.

Brooke watches her muscles tense as she supported herself.

Her feet touch the floor and she's back facing the mirror again.

"Are you just gonna stare or do you wanna get this dance lesson done?"

Yvie looks over her shoulder as Brooke blushes.

"I mean I'm fine with you staring but I also wanna learn how to waltz."

Brooke walks in, shutting the door. "I wasn't staring that long."

Yvie hums in response as Brooke does her own stretching exercises.

Neither of them were really in waltzing attire. Brooke had on leggings and a tank top. Yvie had on booty shorts and a sports bra.

"Why do you wanna learn to waltz anyway?" Brooke asked as she set up the music.

Yvie sighed. "I bet A'keria that I could teach Scarlet any dance she wanted. She chose the waltz and I realized that was the only dance I didn't know."

Brooke laughs. "Even if I teach you, there is no way Scarlet's going to get it."

Yvie just shrugged. "I'm fine with losing because she's a horrible student. But it won't be because I didn't know what to teach her."

"Do you wanna lead?"

Yvie shakes her head. "Nah, it's ok. You can."

Brooke starts the music and hurries back to Yvie.

She grabs Yvie's hands, putting one of the girl's hands on her shoulder and holding the other one.

"Ok your hands go here and my mine go…" She places her free hand on Yvie's waist. Yvie's skin warms her hand.

"Jeez I know you're from Canada but do your hands have to be so cold?" Yvie jokes.

Brooke rolls her eyes as she squeezes Yvie's hip.

"Basically, just mirror my movements."

Brooke slowly moved to music. Yvie's eyes dropped down, following Brooke's steps.

Brooke continued to dance but removed her hand from Yvie's waist. She cupped Yvie's chin and brought her face up.

"You can't teach looking at the ground. Look at me. Feel the music."

They looked deep into each other's eyes. Brooke slowly starts to the music again, her hand drifting back to Yvie's waist.

Yvie stumbles over her own feet as she throws her body after Brooke's, a half beat after the music.

Brooke keeps her steps steady.

"Don't force it. Feel my hands on you. Feel my body."

Yvie sighs and does as Brooke says.

She feels the way Brooke's shoulder tensed slightly before she stepped back. The way her hand tilted before she sidestepped.

Yvie's focus drifts away. She noticed different things about Brooke.

The kindness in her eyes and the laugh lines around them. The brightness of her proud smile as Yvie slowly got the steps.

Brooke's hand was still cool on her hip. It pulled her slightly closer.

"You got it. Just like that Yves," Brooke whispers breathily.

They make their way across the floor, finally waltzing in time with music. The music started to wind down and Brooke can't help herself.

Her hands move to Yvie's back and Brooke dips her. Yvie gasps as her hands clasp around Brooke's neck.

The music plays itself out but they don't move. Yvie's ponytail holder pops, her inky locks brushing the floor.

Suddenly the music changes. The new song was slow and sexual.

"I should turn that off," Brooke whispers, her thumbs stroking Yvie's back. She doesn't move.

"Let me dance for you," Yvie whispers.

"Yes," Brooke breathes.

Yvie hooks one of her legs around Brooke's waist, relying on Brooke's support. Grabbing her other leg, Brooke stands straight, wrapping it around her waist.

Yvie tightens her grip around Brooke's neck and she starts to dance in Brooke's arms.

She throws her head back, grinding her hips into Brooke's stomach. She swings her head around before lifting herself slightly.

She's above Brooke now, peering down on her through her curls.

"There's a chair over there," Yvie whispers.

Brooke's sitting in seconds. The chair didn't have arms, giving Yvie's long legs all the room they needed.

This music seems to speak to her.

She whips her hair and gives Brooke the lap dance of her life.

She runs her hands through Brooke's hair, trailing them down to her arms.  She methodically rose and lowered her hips, grinding on Brooke with the barest amount of pressure.

"So sexy," Brooke mumbles, raising her hands to Yvie's hips.

Yvie smiles darkly. "Oh you like it when I do this?" she purrs. She grinds slightly harder but nearly as hard as Brooke would like her to.

"I'd like it better if you weren't such a tease," Brooke groans.

Yvie dips her head, her body never falling out of rhythm. She keeps her face close to Brooke's, her breath on Brooke's lips.

"You don't liked to be teased Brooke Lynn?"

A soft whimper leaves Brooke. Yvie licks her lips, the tip of her tongue slightly wetting Brooke's lip.

"That's it," the blond exclaims.

One hand pinches Yvie's ass while the other grips her neck and shoves their lips together.

Yvie moans, her hands tangling in Brooke's hair.

Brooke presses her tongue into Yvie's mouth. Yvie eagerly accepted it, sliding her tongue over Brooke's.

They break for air, Brooke's hands roaming Yvie's ass.

"Took you… Long enough," Yvie gasps.

Brooke stands with the girl in her arms and presses Yvie to the floor. Her hair stands out against the stark white floor.

"You're. Mine." Brooke purrs.

"And proud of it," Yvie smirks.

Brooke straddles her. "This is where you take one of your classes right?"

Yvie cocks an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"

Brooke places her hands on either side of Yvie's head with a smirk. "You won't be able to walk in for a month without remembering how I fucked you into the floor."

Yvie returned her smirk. "I don't see you fucking me into the floor now."

Brooke leaned closer to Yvie. "Well let's change that."

Their lips met again, more desperately. Tongues battled for dominance. Hands wandered to every inch of available skin.

Brooke pulled up with a gasp. "Off. All of it off."

Yvie ripped her sports bra off in seconds, moaning as Brooke did the same with her tank top. Her shorts soon followed her bra about 10 feet away.

Brooke lifts her body as she stripped off her leggings and Yvie took the opportunity to pull herself up.

She kneeled in front of Brooke, burying her face in the girl's tits. Her nails dig into Brooke's ass as she sucks on Brooke's nipples.

Brooke digs her own nails into Yvie's back as she moans. Yvie releases her nipple with a soft pop.

"God I literally worship your tits," she moans, her hands leaving Brooke's ass and cupping her tits.

Brooke dipped her neck, capturing Yvie's lips again. Yvie grabs Brooke's shoulders and slowly leans backwards.

She's flat on the floor again, Brooke flush on top of her. Both of them moan as their bare skin touches.

Brooke releases Yvie's lips, focusing her attention on her pulse point. She sucks on it, intent on making a hickey while her hands drift closer to Yvie's core.

"Fuck yeah," Yvie moans, "Make me yours."

Brooke lightly runs her finger through Yvie's folds, the barest touch coating her finger. She lets go of Yvie's neck to look in her eyes.

"Aww, you're soaking,"  she purrs as she sticks the finger in her mouth.

"Brooke," Yvie whines.

A teasing glint flashes in Brooke's eyes. Once more she moves her hand down, this time running two fingers through Yvie's folds. She applies some pressure to Yvie's entrance without actually entering her.

"Brooke please fuck me!" Yvie screams desperately.

Brooke smiles. "All you had to do was ask."

She's knuckle deep in Yvie in seconds, setting a quick rhythm.

"Ah fuck!" Yvie screams as Brooke's thumb finds her clit.

Brooke kisses Yvie again, swallowing her moans as she pistons her fingers.

Yvie's fingers find Brooke's entrance and she slips two in.

They finger each other in tandem, their moans muffled by each others mouths.

"Cum with me," Brooke gasps. It was evident they were both getting close.

Yvie moans in response, grinding on Brooke's fingers while speeding up her own.

Their moans intensify. Brooke slides a third finger in and Yvie follows suit.

Yvie cums first, with Brooke not far behind. They scream each other's names, Brooke collapsing on Yvie as her hips shake.

They moan and gasp and suck hickeys on any bit of sensitive skin they can reach.

Once the aftershocks subside, Brooke rolls offs, keeping Yvie close.

"You didn't make a bet with A'keria did you?"

Yvie gave a shy smile. "No. I didn't."

Brooke nips at her ear. "Naughty girl."

Yvie leans back to look up at her. "Yours." she whispers.

Brooke kisses her softly. "Mine."

Suddenly Yvie's up and scrambling for her clothes.

"Woah! What's wrong?" Brooke calls.

Yvie yanks her shorts on. "Well for one, a class is held here in ten minutes. And two, I'm going to be late for class."

Yvie pulls her sports bra on as Brooke stands.

It's just then they realize the music is still playing.

"Well I can never listen to this song again," Brooke mumbles as she grabs her tank top.

Yvie walks over and kisses her deeply. Their hands tangle in each others hair. Their tongues slide into the now familiar cavity of each other's mouths.

Yvie pulls back, with a sigh. "I'll see you later, ok?"

Brooke smiles. "Most definitely."

Yvie grabs her bag then she's gone.

Brooke sighs as she pulls on her leggings and grabs her music.

Just as she's leaving, she sees a text.

From Even Odder: I think I forgot how to salsa. Can you give me another lesson? ;)

Brooke smiles brightly as she replies. Yvie gets the text just as she dashes into her classroom.

From Canadian Bacon: I don't know how to salsa but I can teach you new ways to tango. I think we'll start by doing it sideways ;)

Yvie smirked as she sat in her seat. She started to pay attention when her phone buzzes again.

Her eyes bug out as she sees the picture Brooke sent her. She was nude on her bed, winking at the camera.

From Canadian Bacon: This is sideways tango attire. Can't wait to see you in it ;)

Yvie was walking out of the classroom before she knew what happened.

From Even Odder: Fuck that class. I'll be there in 10 minutes. Can't wait for my next lesson. <3

#rpdr fanfiction #yvie oddly #brooke lynn hytes #plastique tiara #brooke x yvie #mention of past branjie #lesbian au #college au #smut #imposterzoe #s11

[huhnerhexen]

all for the other ask set!

I just took my painkillers, so I'm really high and I'm sorry if this makes no sense, I'm trying my best...

1. Are looks important in a relationship?

- yes, but they're not the most important thing. I can look past appearance, but if you're ugly on the inside it'll never work

2. Are relationships ever worth it?

- theyre worth it every time! Even if they fail, you learn a lot about yourself and they change you for the better

3. Are you a virgin?

- no

4. Are you in a relationship?

- no, my partner of about three years and I broke up a month ago

5. Are you in love?

- I'm in love with myself, which is more than I can say when I was in that relationship

6. Are you single this year?

- yes

7. Can you commit to one person?

- yes; I'm like a penguin... I mate for life

8. Describe your crush

- that's easy, I don't have one

9. Describe your perfect mate

- soft and sweet, generous, respectful of my boundaries, openly communicative, like my grandpa!

10. Do you believe in love at first sight?

- no

11. Do you ever want to get married?

- yes

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

- in time and with an apology, of course

13. Do you get jealous easily?

- I used to, but I've done a lot of work since then and I don't anymore

14. Do you have a crush on anyone?

- other than myself? no

15. Do you have any piercings?

- I have a nose ring, my septum pierced, 3 earrings in my right ear, and two in my left

16. Do you have any tattoos?

- 11; a bumble bee, a cat drinking wine, my rat's footprint, my grandma's signature, a sloth, the pisces constellation, the aurora borealis constellation, squirrel nutkin, my grandpa's signature, Snufkin and Moomin, and a lavender sprig

17. Do you like kissing in public?

- a quick peck doesn't bother me, but keep your tongue in your own mouth

There is no 18 or 19 in this series of questions??

20. Do you shower everyday?

- I've been bathing more than showering lately, but I do wash everyday

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

- I don't, but that's none of my business anyways

22. Do you think someone is thinking of you right now?

- no, I don't think so

23. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months and not cheat?

- obviously, I did that for 3 years. I don't cheat, it's wrong and it fucks people up

24. Do you think you'll be married in five years?

- maybe? I haven't given it much thought tbh

25. Do you want to be in a relationship this year?

- no

26. Has anyone told you they don't want to ever lose you?

- yes, and then they did

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

- no

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

- not that I am aware of

29. Have you ever cheated on someone?

- no, I would never

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

- I've had plastic surgery twice; once in the ninth grade to fix me jaw, and two days ago I had top surgery

31. Have you ever cried over a guy or girl?

- yes, and what a waste of time that was

32. Have you ever experienced unrequited love?

- no

33. Have you ever had sex with a man?

- yes

34. Have you ever had sex with a woman?

- no

35. Have you ever kissed someone older than you?

-yes

36. Have you ever liked one of your best friends?

- yes

37. Have you ever liked someone who your friends hated?

- yes

38. Have you ever liked someone you didn't expect to?

- yes

39. Have you ever waved someone you couldn't have?

- yes

40. Have you ever written a song or poem for someone?

- yes

41. Have you had sex so far this year?

- yes

42. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander?

- depends on the person, but awhile, I really like kissing

43. How long was your longest relationship?

- almost 3 years

44. How many boyfriends/girlfriends have you had?

- I've had 6 partners

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

- I can say with 100% certainty that I have no idea; I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning

46. How many times did you have sex last year?

- I don't know, sex isn't something I count

47. How old are you?

- 21

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

- I'd ask them why, people love to talk about their crushes, I'd also encourage them to go after it. Just because I like someone doesn't make them mine

49. If you have a partner, what is your favourite thing about them?

- I don't have a partner

50. If your first true love knocked on your door with am apology and presents, would you accept?

- no, not yet. I'm not at a place to forgive Kai yet. I'm still working through and breaking down what they did to me

51. Is there someone you would do absolutely anything for?

- yea, my grandma

52. Is there anyone you've given up on? Why?

- I gave up on my dad's dad, Lane; he's just a genuinely awful guy and every time I've tried to extend an olive branch it's come back to bite me in the ass. He can be angry and miserable alone, I don't have room for that shit in my life.

53. Is there someone mad because you're seeing/talking to the person that you are?

- no, the people in my life are incredibly supportive of me in all my endeavors and decisions

54. Is there something you will never forget?

- what a classmate and friend wrote to my mom once when she was compiling a big note full of all the reasons people care about me. "There's nothing they could ever do that would be bad". Those words have been etched onto my heart for 6 years

55. Share a relationship story

- I'll tell you about my grandparents, and how they were made for each other. My grandpa worked for CBC and so did my grandma, but they worked in separate buildings, and one night my grandma's friend says "Elaine, come out for drinks with me and some of the guys" and my grandma really doesn't want to, but she's a polite lady so she does anyways. She winds up sitting next to my grandpa, and they don't say much to each other but his friends keep bugging him and making jokes about how he needs to "get home to his wife" (he isn't married, but he fancies my grandma and his friends are just trying to make him work harder for her). They wind up leaving at the same time, and they walk home together because they lived a couple buildings away from one another. My grandpa assures my grandma that he isn't married, he tells her he's going home to Red Jacket, Saskatchewan for Christmas, but could he give her a call when he comes home? She says yes; and a year later they were married. They've been madly in love with each other ever since.

56. State 8 facts about your body.

- I have 8 less teeth than the average adult; my eyes are two different shapes; when I learned to walk it was with a slight limp so now I always have one; when my body is really low on estrogen I get incredibly clumsy; I have 2 holes in my jaw from where a surgical plate was removed; I'm deathly allergic to peanuts; my limbs are so long, my fingertips almost reach down to my knees; I have a small groove in my head from wearing headgear when I was a child.

57. Things you want to say to an ex

- you always went on and on about how I deserved better, and you're wrong. It's not that I deserved better, you just didn't deserve me.

I have so much pity for you, because you have to live the rest of your life knowing what Ostin did to your mom, you did much the same to me. You acted the same as the man who makes you so sick. You're disgusting for what you did, and I hope you regret it everyday of your life.

58. What are 5 ways to win your heart?

- listen openly to me, tell me things that happened to you during your day, sending me songs or poems or little trinkets that remind you of me, laugh at my jokes, vocalize your feelings about me

59. What do you look like?

This is me and my roommate's cat, Anaan!

60. What is the biggest age difference between you and any of your partners?

- two years, he was 15 I was 17 and as soon as I learned how smol he was I couldn't get past it...

61. What's the first thing you notice in someone?

- their mouth, I lip-read so someone's lips and teeth is the first thing my eyes go to

62. What is the sexiest thing someone could ever do to/for you?

- oh gee I don't even know? Maybe take off my clothes for me, but like really slowly?

63. What is your definition of "having sex"?

- anything that gets the job done, y'know? wets the whistle

64. What is your definition of cheating?

- being physically intimate with a party outside of the pre-established exclusive relationship

65. What is your favourite foreplay routine?

- tease me until I want to kill you, and then fuck me until I can't remember my own name

66. What is your favourite roleplay?

- I don't have one. I did improv in highschool and doing any sort of "acting on the spot" makes me astral project back to that cringey time

67. What is your idea of a perfect date?

- one where it doesn't matter what you're doing, you never want it to end because you can never have enough time with the person you're with

68. What is your sexual orientation?

- queer!

69. What turns you off?

- people who are mean to animals

70. What turns you on?

- climate justice

71. What was your kinkiest wet dream?

- that will stay between me and the lord, thanks

72. What words do you like to hear during sex?

- none, if you can form words or sentences, one of us isn't doing our job right

73. What's something sweet you'd like someone to do for you?

- bring me flowers! No one has ever brought me flowers before

74. What's the most superficial characteristic you look for?

- probably wardrobe

75. What's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you?

- my sister moved in with me to take care of me while I recover from my mastectomy. I didn't even have to ask, she offered to do it

76. What's the sweetest thing you've done for someone?

My roommate and I had mice and squirrels living in the basement of our old house, and they ate and destroyed all of her old baby books and photo albums; so this year for Christmas I took all the pictures I had of us, and a bunch of pictures she had posted on her social media, and I made her a new photo book to preserve the memories she made these last few years.

77. What's your opinion on age differences in relationships?

- the older you get, the less age difference really matters, my roommate is 41 and her partner is turning 61 this year. I think so long as both parties are of legal age and consenting, do what you want. That being said, it gets iffy if the older party knew the younger person when they were a child; ie. Leonardo DiCaprio and his most recent girlfriend.

78. What's your dirtiest secret?

- I don't have one? I'm literally an open book... You can ask me anything

79. When was the last time you felt jealous?

- when an 8 year old girl came into the shop and told me her grandpa was taking her shopping for her birthday.

80. When was the last time you told someone that you loved them?

- on Wednesday, when I was saying goodbye to my grandma at the hospital (that sounds like a downer, she's fine, she had a knee operation and I went to visit her after work)

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

- LP, Ezra Miller, Joji, my ex boyfriend (they're mad cute, but they're ugly on the inside), Chris Fleming

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

- my mom, after she drove me home from the hospital and helped me get inside

83. Who was your first kiss with?

- a boy named Rhys, in the ninth grade. We were each other's beards before we even knew it

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

- a lot of different reasons; we kept fighting, they had no time for me, they wouldn't communicate with me, I had trouble trusting them, they sexually assaulted me and were hella manipulative, they forgot I existed a lot, there were a lot of red flags that we ignored until it blew up in our faces.

85. Would you ever date someone off of the internet?

- sure, I don't see why not!

Thanks for asking! Sorry it took so long to answer, I had to stop and nap a few times in between questions...

#answered

[unicorn-sprinkles-101]

I'm an autistic, mentally ill young adult who very desperately needs to find a new place to live.

I can't exactly recount what happened during most of my childhood but I have to say that my parents have drastically spiraled out of control since then. 

My mother had never really been a big impact on my life other than being my primary guardian and taking me from place to place. Other than that, she has little to no emotional connection to me and especially not now. I don't really "hate" anyone listed here, I just don't care for my family anymore and don't want anything to do with any of them.

My mother is completely unable to work, relying mostly on disability since I was a baby due to an ongoing condition. My father refuses to get a better job to support my mother and I, often leaving us with around $5-$10 at a for gas money (often with tons of quarters) or to take with me when it is absolutely required.

Now that I've turned 18, things have gotten much harder when it comes to me being used for financial gain. I do admit that alot of that money was used towards me in some way or another while I was growing up, but not anymore.

While my father is unable to let go of grandmother's old house (which has gone to shambles), one of my mother's friends has lives under us in the basement after being rendered homeless, which can make akward when describing family troubles.

She started living with us a while ago after her trailer finally caved in after we packed water jugs back and forth to her location for several years.

Ever since she moved here, she's developed an overbearing attachment to her "animals". It got so bad she refused time and time again to put her very ill 16-year-old dog to sleep, rendering them unable to walk, see, eat or hear for months on end. The breaking point was when they bled out all over the kitchen (which we knew would happen eventually), which was traumatic for us and highly unnecessary for the dog to go through considering how miserable they were when they came here.

She has made tons very rude and hurtful comments to me about how I'm such an "abuser" when I told her dogs (she has 3) to go away or get off the couch in front of her. She often claims that I'm abusive towards my guinea pigs, saying that I don't "take care of [my] animals".

This friend of my mother has also made comments ranging from my weight to my behavior and called me names ranging from "brat" to the more recent "trashy white girl" while my mother rolls her eyes and tells me it was all just a joke.

She's physically done things towards me such as shoving me out of the way, crushing me on the bed, and almost hauling a foot tall scratching post towards my direction after I refused to get her a broom the second she demanded it (I ended up getting it for her anyway.

However, physical altercations between me and my mom's friend are very rare and this type of behavior is often seen as the norm in my area, so unless it's something that left bruises or sexual assault, it isn't really that big of a deal compared to the other stuff I face on a daily basis.

It only got worse after I graduated from highschool. It got so bad that it became worse than all of the countless harassment I faced throughout my highschool education combined.

I was forced to give up over 3/4s of my $700 worth of graduation money to my mother in order to pay off bills, food, and other neccessities. While I ended up snagging some small gifts for myself (apx. $120) before it was all sucked up, I know I'll probably never be able to get paid back that amount of money from either one of them and I feel extremely cheated as a result.

While I was legitimately excited to see them grow as people in a good home, my sister's kids have drastically changed for the worse ever since they've been shoved in a tiny old trailer and moved back to the classic small town community full of people with money (maybe extracurriculars will keep them busy).

The youngest of them (8), who is often dumped here on a daily basis, has disrespected us in a variety of ways including: eating at the computer after my mom's friend made a rule not to, not picking up after themselves when they did so (often leaving uneaten food out), and using every other dollar my mom had to go get candy and drinks from the Dollar Store (they stole my leftover change in front of me and lied about it, but that was a one-time occurrence).

The back room often smells like trash because my mother puts off going to the dump until the very last minute.

Nobody can keep up with the animals, use a flyswatter on the cat to keep it from climbing everything and having to lock it up so it wouldn't take the food straight off our plates while we were eating.

While two of the dogs from my mom's friend stay downstairs in the basement, the third one stays up here and refuses to go downstairs.

The dog is well-behaved (aside from agressive barking) but while it doesn't pee anywhere in the house (as far as we know), it appears to leave, traces of leftover urine on pillows, blankets, and the furniture (or at least the odor, although I felt small wet spots on the couch before) which could spread germs, not good for someone with a few open sores.

None of them use leashes, so when this dog bursts out the door it takes off up the street aggressively barking at everyone and everything, with little to no repercussions from either adult. The overly intense noise from this small dog has gotten way out of hand, making me a nervous wreck.

These two stress factors combined with everything else makes it impossible to keep the house clean by nearly any means (I'm doing my best just to sweep off the porch).

I'm grateful that my mom's friend took one last shot at trying to clean up the bedroom, but there's no point in trying to keep anything kept up when all it does is get destroyed.

Moving to my own place means I won't have to look after anyone else but me and my pets (guinea pigs). However, I don't have anyone to support me in my endeavors.

As my parents often failed to attend my physical and emotional needs, I became highly unstimulated and constantly stressed as a result. This has lead to severe bouts of depression and executive dysfunction, which has caused my mom's friend's harassment to get even worse.

Not only did they fail to properly take care of my needs all throughout highschool, we've never been able to afford ANY sort of renovations to the house during our residence here (about 8 years), aside from basic roofing which was performed by a small Hispanic business instead of a professional company. 

The only two instances of DIY fix-ups I can remember during my 8 years here are replacing the shattered windows with plexiglass (which happened years ago) and recently restoring some of the rotten floorboards under the washer that were caked in mold.

The simple act of taking a shower has now become one of my worst dreaded nightmares and unless I move to a safe environment then I won't ever be able to properly take care of myself like I dream of doing someday.

Even though it'll take top surgery to make me feel comfortable taking showers again, moving to an inspected apartment means I  have one less worry about falling through the basement and the rancid smell of burnt urine that sometimes reeks from the basement.

I never went outside much, aside from sitting on the corner of the porch since the rest of it was turned green by air conditioning water and the walkway was flooded by overgrown plants (even they've been given more respect than I have).

I often vented through various social platforms but I decided that enough is enough: I needed to grow as a person and stop shoving all my problems on others.

It was then I knew I had to find a way to escape. Unfortunately, in order to move out I needed at least a little bit of stable funding, which I'm very, very far from.

My sensory issues make it hard to gain interests in whatever food was cooked (ex. spaghetti, dumplings), and I didn't have the desire to eat expired canned greens from the food bank, which have since been covered in roach poo. They're pretty much everywhere you go.

Even the cleanest of countertops could be seen crawling with a few roaches. They reside deep within the microwave along with fried maggots from ages ago.

They have also made their way into the refrigerator, making it difficult to scour what little there is without feeling grossed out. It's getting harder day by day to tell the difference between of the smallest of bugs and pepper. Since we we can't afford a closed-top hamper, our dirty clothes are often covered in roaches trying to find a place to hide, making it difficult to gather the strength to wash them like I should.

They've also taken over my computer, rendering my unable to even touch it for months.

No amount of bombing, traps, or pesticides will clear them either. They were there to begin with, and they always come back.

There's even been an increase in other types of bugs, most notably fly's and gnats.

The Crock-Pot would often fill up with mold  every other week because me and my mother didn't like chowing down on her friend's grand "homestyle cooking" every day. 

We didn't eat it as much as we should've because it was often bland in taste and we don't know how to make her stop (I know I can't). She ended up making a fuss when we tried to make suggestions, so we let her get what she wants even if it wasting precious ingredients we could've used to make something we could actually eat.

To make up for it, I often had to buy single cans of Spaghettio's at a time from the Dollar Store and call it my meal for the day. 

Now it seems like I can't even do THAT anymore. 

It got to the point where I even considered that any drink besides water, hell even soda, could have some sort of nutritional value. It was better that eating nothing, after all.

I often pondered mother's financial choices when came to these things but as we all have been told "mother knows best" and we as children should not be allowed to question our parent's decision.

She recently told me my SSI completely cut because the government labels me as "being able to work".  It turns out that they cut my disability check as opposed to SSI but I'm still left just as broken inside as before.

Why? Because there's absolutely no way I can save up such a large amount, we need every last drop to survive off of. I've used a very small portion of it to buy some little stuff to help me cope from time to time, but I'm gonna refrain from that from now on until I completely move out.

Even though the issue has been resolved for now, I'm tired of being dragged through hoops when I know they'll just try to cut it off again. I can't keep staying here because I'm sick and tired of having our only source of income dangling on a string.

I would really like to gain some much needed work experience and I plan on applying to Wal-Mart as soon as I upload this post.

However, there's one problem: I have no source of reliable transportation to get to my job.

My mother had to borrow money off of my grandmother (as she has done in the past) in order to have the gas to pick me up from therapy this week. While that tank of gas may last a bit, this is not sustainable enough for me to keep any sort of job regardless if it were part-time or full-time. The three job options in this very small town don't offer a position that would be comfortable enough for me to perform the tasks I am assigned and two are often known for mistreating their staff members on a regular basis.

Another reason I want to get a job in a bigger city is so I can continue to work once I move closer to Wal-Mart, which will save tremendous amounts of gas money and time. To avoid the trauma of driving, I will probably be using a transport bus as opposed to using a car.

The reason it appears that I don't look after my guinea pigs as much as I should is because their cages are inaccessible making it excruciatingly difficult to clean their cages and fufill their needs. With my own apartment to live in, I will have the ability make room for them and I can organize a place for my piggies in a much more open location free of mess.

I'd really like to keep them with me when I move alone, especially considering that I adopted one all the way from Louisville (I live around the west side of KY). I want to give Marlene the proper life she deserves after traveling across the state to take her beautiful soul home with me.

While I probably won't have access to a small animal veterinarian to get a proper diagnosis, my older guinea pig Chloe (about 4 years) had a massive tumor/cyst on her leg burst open a while back.

Her weight has drastically increased to the point where she feels like a limp water balloon when I attempt to pick her up, so it lead me to assume that her body is slowly being taken over by some form of internal cancer.

Even though there's nothing I can do to heal her, my ultimate wish is for Chloe to drift away peacefully in a safe environment free of bugs and other filth. This means that not only do I have myself to care for, but my two precious babies as well.

I admit that I have been going through a slow regression in regards to financial behavior, but I would love to learn how to shop responsibly while keeping my true interests at heart. I have plenty of plushies and figurines to keep me company at the moment. Some I'll sell to make room for new ones, but most of them will there to  comfort me during stressful times.

After buying one of the most beautiful children's lamps I had ever seen at GoodWill, I soon found out that buying doesn't have to be boring and dull like all the adults have told us all our lives. I learned that you should buy furniture and clothes based on how it makes you feel instead of relying on others to tell you what to do, I would love to purchase decorations for my apartment that reflect who I want to become as a person.

Not everything should have to be about scrounging for my next meal.

However, the funds from this will go towards covering down-payment, rental costs, and buying a new setup for my guinea pigs if they are allowed at the apartment (I don't want to track bugs from the old cages, plus they need a bigger space).

I wanted to let you guys know that I will have to use a portion of the donations

to cover my mother's monthly electric bill. As much as I want to talk myself out of it, she literally relies on me for money so I don't exactly have the ability to opt-out of that right now.

The extra stuff (such as small appliances, furniture, groceries, and of course... a limited-edition plush or two) will be paid for using a compilation of my paycheck and whatever I earn off of Redbubble.

I'd love to start a YouTube channel where I do things like art, gaming, and reviews to strengthen my voice and get it out into the world in a peaceful, sanitary environment free from interruptions or harassment over a seemingly innocent/important subject matter.

There's lots of things that I missed out on when I was younger and I bet it would be so awesome to finally express myself free of constant toxicity and hatred.

I deeply love OK K.O. and I'd love to honor the impact that this person of color and his creation has left on me someday, as well as continue down my path of original content that I've been waiting to share with you guys!

[chibinightowl]

I have one! I have one!! Can we get a follow up to the casebook with Teekl, where Klareon comes back to pick him up? Love to see Jason meeting Tim's *friend*

You’ve been bugging me for this for quite some time, so I hope you enjoy it! Random note about Klarion…I use the characterization for him in Casebook from Robin issues 157-158, which is the Grant Morrison version of him rather than the Young Justice version we’ve seen where he’s a total brat.

~*~*~

It was raining cats and dogs outside, one of those absolutely miserable nights that Gotham liked to spring on everyone to remind them that even a city as dirty as she needed a bath sometimes. Jason knew how to take a hint and stayed indoors tonight, much preferring to curl up with a book and a cup of hot tea. Tim didn’t have much of a choice though and his phone pinged with the occasional text to remind him just how wet and miserable he was out there.

Jason, asshole that he was, sent back pictures of his steaming mug of tea or of Teekl, who had decided his stomach was the perfect place for a nap. The cat was a comfortable weight, even if he did wish he’d wander off towards his socked feet where he had them tucked under a pillow. The rain brought with it a chill that was more common to see in winter rather than early fall.

Again, Gotham.

Midnight rolled around and Jason rose to his feet, disturbing Teekl in the process, so he could start reheating the chili he’d made earlier. The cat hissed his displeasure as Jason stretched and laughed at him. “Come on, your highness. Do you really want to Tim to come home to a cold meal after the crap he’s had to deal with tonight?”

The cat flipped his tail primly at him and stalked off toward the kitchen where he jumped onto the counter to supervise.

That was something Jason really liked about Teekl. The cat understood human speech to a certain extent. No trying to herd cats with this one.

Jason was rummaging through the fridge for some items to make a salad with when he heard a knock at the door. Straightening, he gave it a quizzical look. Who would be out there at this time of night? Tim sure as hell didn’t knock, not at his own door.

Teekl, however, turned toward the living room and let out a loud mrrrrow. He then gave Jason an expectant look, clearing waiting for him to open the front door.

“You’re the magic cat, can’t you go through walls?”

Another loud mrrrrow was his answer.

“Sure, whatever. Excuse me if I don’t take you at your word.” Jason opened the pantry door and grabbed an empty box of cake mix off the top shelf where he’d hidden a gun and a clip of ammo just the other day. Color him surprised that he needed to use it so soon, but the rest of his gear was stashed away in the game room.

He checked the safety and slid the clip into place, then cautiously approached the door. Peering through the peephole, Jason frowned. The young man on the other side stood there patiently, but that wasn’t what was throwing him off.

It was the color of his skin. The lighting in the hallway wasn’t the best, but Jason would bet one of Dick’s boxes of Crocky Crunch that it was blue. Who was this guy?

Well, there was only one way to find out. “Whaddya want?” Jason barked in a purposefully rough voice.

“I am here for Teekl,” a slightly accented voice replied politely. “And who are you that you’re in Timothy’s home?”

Jason tucked the gun into the back of his pants and turned off the alarm, then unlocked the door. Opening it, he frowned even harder as he took in the drenched figure standing there. He was dressed like something out of a bad Thanksgiving play and really did have pale blueish gray skin. “I’m Jason, Tim’s boyfriend. Who’re you? I’m pretty sure the Pilgrims want their costume back.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “Quaint,” he replied tartly. “I am Klarion.”

“I guess cat-sitting is coming to an end.” Jason stepped aside for the warlock to enter. The last thing he needed was to piss off a magic user. That never ended well for anyone, especially him. “Tim’s not home from work yet but should be any minute. I’m reheating some dinner if you want to wait around.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Jason locked the door again and made a quick detour to the hallway closet to grab a couple towels. This guy needed one and Tim was sure to be in the same boat whenever he wandered in. Tossing one to Klarion, Jason set the other one down on the counter by Teekl, who still hadn’t moved and was giving his master an arch look. “If that isn’t a don’t touch me stink eye, I don’t know what is,” he commented as he returned to his salad.

The chili was reheating nicely, already sending off warm and meaty scents into the kitchen. He idly wondered if he had enough time to make some quick garlic bread for some added crunch. It wouldn’t hurt, so he turned on the oven to preheat.

Teekl meowed again and Jason saw Klarion was sitting at the counter and no longer looked quite so soaked. The cat still wasn’t going anywhere near his master though, even if he was trying to tempt him closer. “Teekl likes you,” he announced, eyeing Jason assessingly. “He is very hard to please, you know.”

“He’s pushy and spoiled,” Jason retorted without even thinking twice. “I can see why he likes Tim so much though. He lets him get away with everything.”

Shit. Open mouth, insert foot. Story of his life.

Rather set him on fire, Klarion laughed. The pitch sounded off, like it wasn’t something he did very often. “Teekl enjoys watching you try and manage Timothy while he tries to do the same to you.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and stopped slicing the loaf of French bread he’d bought yesterday. “You can see through his eyes, can’t you?”

“I can. Despite what Timothy may believe, I do keep tabs on my dragga while he’s here. Especially after what happened the night he and I met.”

“I heard that story,” Jason offered, picking up his knife again and giving it a pointed twirl. “I still can’t believe you leave your cat here when you come to Gotham.”

“Who says I stay in Gotham?” Klarion replied with a thin smile. “This place is simply home to someone Teekl and I call friend. What I’m curious about is how someone like you came to be courting Timothy.”

Jason snorted at the old-fashioned phrase. “Wow, where did you learn English? It’s called dating these days.”

Klarion nodded. “Dating then. So tell me, how did that happen? I’ve seen the mask you put on almost every night. I’ve met a few of your types up here before and they’re all self-righteous to a fault. You, however, have an attitude.”

“Now that is a good way of putting it,” Jason said as he finished sprinkling some garlic powder onto the bread. He placed it on a baking sheet and stuck it in the oven. “Have a drink with me and I’ll tell ya how Timbo and I first started working together.”

“Fair enough,” Klarion agreed.

Jason grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed one of them to the warlock, popping the cap off for him. Teekl made his way over to where Jason leaned against the counter and butted his hand for some attention. “Pushy, that’s what you are,” he said fondly. “Your master is right there.”

“I did say he likes you,” Klarion stated, eyeing his bottle curiously before he took a small sip.

“You did,” Jason agreed, scratching Teekl under the chin. He was going to miss the big cat, he really was. “So, story time. Do you know what a flamethrower is?”

#chibinightowl writes #Jason Todd #Klarion the Witch Boy #Teekl #JayTim #Casebook of Detective Timothy Drake #Only Jason would offer Klarion a beer #Seriously