#wait my mind is wandering;;;; i barely ate anything today.... just breakfast then some pastries then. half eaten lunch? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

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Disclosed

Pairing: Bakugou x reader x Kirishima

Warnings: Like, two sex jokes? Nothing that crazy. Once again, gay, bi and poly as fuck. Oh and language too.

Author’s note:

So uh, I guess this ends the saga of Little Secret. I’m still doing Kiribaku fics, but I guess I just had a bit of a theme going here in this trilogy. I tried to focus more on Eijirou in this one since he kind of got pushed to the side a bit in the other two stories. Little Secret had more of y/n’s omniscience, while Big Secret was more Bakugou driven (big brain hehe).

You can probably ignore the ending of this since it’s really really cheesy and it was the only thing I could think of at the time I wrote it (I think this is another one of my fics that I finished at 3 am or something).

Anyhow, I’d say this is my favorite part of the trilogy in some ways! It’s super soft and fluffy, and I really like how I wrote it out. I seriously hope you enjoy it!

I love you guys!

-Sugar

☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆.☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆

As much as Kirishima loved being a hero, honestly, he loved his days off more.

He watched from in front of the counter as you amicably bickered with Bakugou, bustling around the kitchen still in your respective pajamas.

"I'm just saying we could have something other than cinnamon rolls for breakfast," the blond man pouted, tailing you as you walked from the fridge to the oven.

"It'll be fun," you said. "Geez, we don't have to keep up with that hero diet you set up every day. It's our day off, let me have my sugar and carbs."

Bakugou began to grumble something about the amount of chemicals that were probably in the pre-made pastry dough, but you paid him no heed. The little cheerful beeping tones of the oven sounded through the room as you set the temperature.

"How long is that going to take?" Kirishima asked.

"Like half an hour," you said. "Need a snack 'til then? We need to eat these oranges before they go bad."

"Sure, I'll take one." You tossed the orange fruit to him, which he caught easily and began to peel.

"You want one, 'Tsuki?"

Bakugou grumbled a "Fine" and you handed him his, taking a third for yourself.

Normally, you may have been able to wait until the sweet pastry rolls were done, but instead you'd spent the last two hours very slowly waking up and cuddling in bed.

As per usual, Katsuki had woken up first, letting his eyes adjust to the warm tones the room had taken on with the rising of the sun. He remembered today was his day off, and a final bout of tension left his shoulders. His back had previously been pressed against Eijirou's, but now he decided to turn himself over to face him. Peeking through scarcely opened lids, Bakugou glimpsed your form on the other side of Kirishima, scarcely visible as you snuggled into his chest. Bakugou allowed himself something he only saved in silent, private moments like this: a smile. Just a small one, barely even lifting the side of his mouth. But he couldn't help it. The sight of his perfect boyfriend and girlfriend fast asleep in each others' arms brought him such an overwhelming feeling of compersion, he simply couldn't help himself.

Bakugou draped an arm over Kirishima's side, rubbing at your forearm with gentle strokes of his fingers. You hummed in your sleep, pushing yourself even closer into the red-haired man holding you. The blond breathed in Eijirou's heavy, musky scent, letting it flood his nose and instill a sense of unparalleled calm over himself.

The shifting motions on either side of him caused Eijirou to begin to blink his own eyes open, shedding the foggy haze of sleep from his mind. Dreams from his previous night's rest danced and fleeted at the edges of his memory, before they were ultimately discarded and lost to the unrelenting abyss that is abandoned remembrance. He felt warm. Warm, and comfortable, and happy, and perfect.

Eijirou noticed the steady movement of the arm placed over him, signaling that Bakugou was awake. You, on the other hand, slept on; eyes lightly closed, lips parted with breath, gently clasping the front of his shirt. Kirishima slowly pressed a kiss to your forehead, followed by another and then another.

His soft lips combined with the soothing motions of Katsuki's hand finally brought you smoothly out of your slumber, groaning a bit in your consciousness.

"You two awake yet?" Bakugou's voice sounded from over Kirishima's broad shoulders. It was a little gruffer than usual from sleep and it made you smile.

"Yeah," Kirishima answered for you, meeting your (E/C) orbs with his own.

You pulled your arm from under Bakugou's hand, moving it until your fingers were able to intertwine and lock with his over Eijirou's side. He felt safe under your loving union, tying yourselves together over him so the three of you became one unit.

That was how your morning had started. For a long time, the three of you laid there, chatting in low tones as you and Katsuki snuggled into either side of Eijirou, who later turned to lie on his back to tuck each of you under an arm. The experience was nothing other than peaceful, the three of you content to simply lay in each others' presence.

Ever since that one fateful afternoon nearly two years ago, your lives could scarcely have improved more. Inviting Bakugou into your relationship was the best decision you'd made, and now here you were. The three of you had graduated from UA and begun your lives as heroes; Eijirou still worked as an indispensable sidekick under Fatgum, while Bakugou was still in the process of getting a hero agency of his own off the ground. But today was a day you had settled on to spend completely together, and it was all going just wonderfully.

Somehow, the idea had gotten into your head that you'd make cinnamon rolls for breakfast, so once you and your boyfriends eventually crawled out of bed, you set about fulfilling the urge.

Kirishima popped another orange slice into his mouth, watching you absentmindedly as you pulled out everything you would need. Which, to say, wasn't much, seeing as you were simply baking them from a can. As you pulled out the pan and cooking spray, Eijirou's red eyes flicked over to Bakugou, who had removed the cardboard tube from the fridge again. The redhead fought back a smirk as he watched his shared boyfriend scowl at the ingredients, thinking back to his almost monthly 'your body is a temple and you should treat it as such' lectures he'd give the two of you.

You caught sight of him as well, striding towards him and plucking the container from his hands. Bakugou started grumbling again, turning and exiting the kitchen to presumably go get dressed or something.

Kirishima took the opportunity to come up behind you as you popped the cardboard cylinder open, letting the preformed dough puff up as it met the air. His arm wrapped loosely around your waist as he bent a little to place his head on your shoulder. "Need help with anything?" he asked.

"No, thanks," you said, taking the unbaked rolls and filling your pre-sprayed pan.

He hummed and straightened, moving so he could lean against the counter. He noticed your orange next to him, partially peeled and abandoned. Taking one of the remaining slices from his own, he held it out towards you. "Hey, babe."

You turned and caught sight of it, smiling as you took the little slice between your teeth. You pulled it into your mouth as he pushed from his end, and you began to chew. "Mmm, that one's good."

Eijirou grinned back in agreement and ate the last slice. He reached for your abandoned one, working his nails beneath the pliable peel. "So what made you buy cinnamon rolls? Other than the fact that they're delicious, that is."

"Cold nostalgia," you said, tweaking the dough in the filled pan so it looked right. "I saw them at the store and thought to myself, 'Hey, I remember eating those. I could totally make them myself. Tasty.' Also I thought you might like them. We can all share." You picked up the pan in one hand and carried it to the oven, checking that it was the right temperature and sliding them in.

"I'm not sure about Katsuki," Eijirou said, picking some of the white fibers off another orange slice. "He didn't seem too thrilled."

"Meh," you said, fingers tapping out twenty-seven minutes on the oven timer, bringing more happy beeps to your ears. "If he doesn't eat any of them, there's just more for us, I guess. But you know how he is. You think he'll crack in front of us or wait until we leave?"

Eijirou smiled as you walked back to him, running your hands up his sides affectionately as you grinned up at him. "I'll bet one of us will find him having one in the middle of the night," he wagered.

"You're on," you giggled, swiping another orange slice from him.

"Hey! I would have given you some if you had asked, you know."

"Oops." You slid the slice slowly into your mouth, keeping your eyes on his own. A burst of sweet citric juice filled your mouth as you bit down, and you shut your eyes for a second just to fully enjoy it.

The sensation of a finger poking at your nose caused your lids to flutter open. Your eyes crossed to look at the offending digit, rolling back up and focusing on Eijirou's face.

"Bep," he said, the note accompanying his action.

You booped his nose in unhostile revenge, beginning to giggle as a mini-war began. Eijirou used the pad of his pointer finger to jab lightly at your face, making a new sound effect with each one. You had the advantage since both of your hands were free; tapping both your index fingers on his torso, face, and shoulders.

"Boop."

"Beep."

"Bap."

Bakugou shuffled back into the kitchen and watched your cheerful assaults on one another, both his cheeks and his heart warming at the sound of your giggles. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Being in love," Eijirou said, proceeding to poke at your cheek. "Get over here, Katsu."

Bakugou just tched and wandered over to the oven to look at the baking rolls. "Dumbasses."

"Better hurry up, 'Tsuki," you said, stepping closer to Eijirou. "Or else you're going to miss out on the kisses."

"Oooooh-," Kirishima drew out for a second before your lips met his. He reciprocated, noting how you both shared the same orange-citrus taste. Out of curiosity, he peeked his eyes open to meet Bakugou's.

The blond man scowled, finally stomping over to you. "Fine. But I'm going in the middle." He wedged himself between you two.

"Yay!" Your arms wound around his slim waist, resting just above his hips. Your lips attached themselves to the base of Bakugou's neck, while Kirishima smooched at his mouth. It was quiet and sweet for a moment, each partaking in another's lips until you were satisfied, swapping positions when necessary.

You separated from Bakugou, running your thumb over his cheekbone for a moment as you looked into his eyes. He'd gotten better about asking for and receiving affection over the years you'd been dating, but it still brought warmth crashing through your system every time.

"Eiji Baby?" you asked, keeping your eyes on Bakugou.

"Yeah?"

"How much time is left on the oven?"

Kirishima glanced up at the glowing digits. "Eighteen minutes."

You hummed. "I'll get started on the icing for my rolls."

"Our rolls," Eijirou corrected, grinning at your over-the-shoulder eye roll you gave him as you made your way to the pantry to grab some powdered sugar.

Bakugou had the same reaction as you, tsking under his breath and moving to lean against the counter next to Kirishima. His position wasn't held long however, since you soon returned with your bag of sugar and the carton of milk, shooing them away so you could use the space. You pulled down a bowl and poured in some sugar and milk, beginning to mix it into a thick liquid with a spoon.

"Need a taste tester?" Kirishima asked hopefully.

"Eiji, this is pure sugar."

He glanced back at the ingredients. "Yeah."

There was something undeniably satisfying about watching the powder mix with the milk, going from fine and crumbly and turning into a sweet liquid mixture to later be drizzled over your pastries.

Maybe it was the motions of your hand as you manipulated the spoon. Maybe it was the ambiance of the room, surrounded by the two men you loved and planned to spend the rest of your life with. Either way, the song that had quietly been thrumming at the back of your mind wandered to the front, and the next thing you knew, you were humming.

Bakugou and Kirishima looked up at the sound of your voice, small smiles spreading their lips. Eijirou recognized the tune you were quietly singing to yourself, quickly adding his voice to your own. Your cheeks heated when you met his eyes, yet you continued to hum along with him. For a moment, you were both content with hitting the notes (or at least, trying to in some people's cases) wordlessly. But then you came upon the chorus, and it was as though you simultaneously reached a shared agreement that it should be belted out properly.

"S'GONNA TAKE A LOT TO DRAG ME AWAY FROM YOUUUU! THERE'S NOTHING THAT A HUNDRED MEN OR MORE COULD EVER DO! I BLESS THE RAINS DOWN IN AFRICAAAA—"

Bakugou watched you with an expression of general disgust and confusion. This was an act, of course, for the most part. He could never quite get used to the spontaneous concerts you both would occasionally throw, singing whatever obnoxious song that came to your minds. You probably only had one brain cell between you two, and it was a tossup of who got it for the day. But there was something about it that made his heart stir and his neck prickle. Maybe it was the absolute glow about Kirishima as he threw back his head to belt out lyrics. Maybe it was the way you had taken the spoon out of the icing bowl, singing at it as if it were a microphone. Bakugou would die before he ever joined in, but he never objected to watching.

The moment the song finished, you started on another. Kirishima turned to you as a new idea struck you. You lifted your hands to a sort of air guitar, playing a bit of the intro to the song in your head before beginning to sing again:

"We're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I~"

Kirishima smiled, liking the way you thought. He admired your sense of humor and how well you went along with goofing off with him. The redhead let you sing the first verse, dancing around the kitchen space from him to Bakugou, looking at each of them as you sang some of the lyrics and wiggling your eyebrows.

It wasn't long before Eijirou jumped in again, joining you as you sang to Katsuki. "Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and, desert you~"

Eijirou took your spoon as you rocked out on your personal invisible guitar, going to town on chords that didn't exist.

Bakugou fought down the butterflies swarming in his stomach at the sight of you two having fun. You would lean against him and grin up into his face from one side, while Kirishima draped an arm over his shoulders and passionately sang into your spoon. Katsuki noticed that some of the icing had dripped down onto his hand, but the redhead seemed to not have noticed.

You paused to giggle at Kirishima, who started taking the song as seriously as he could. His eyes were squeezed shut, fist curled into a ball as he drew out some of the lyrics as though it were so much more than an old-timey memed love song. You let your voice fade as he did his own thing, only offering it as further back up vocals. Eventually, he reached the final reiteration of the chorus, and let himself riff on the final lines as a finisher. When he was done, he opened his eyes, finding that he had even kneeled down on the floor a little in his passion. He stood and grinned, and you enthusiastically applauded his performance.

"That was for you, babes!" he said, pointing at his small audience of two.

Bakugou scoffed, but you could hear how it was a little choked from how cute he had found it. The liar. Both you and Eijirou could see how his cheeks had changed a few shades darker right in front of you.

Kirishima strolled confidently back up to you, swooping each of you into an arm and kissing Katsuki full on the lips without warning. Bakugou's eyes widened at the contact, cheeks burning even more than before. Eijirou pulled back with a satisfying smack of his lips, diving in to give you the same treatment. As per usual, you were more receptive to the kiss, more than happy to throw your arms around his neck and partake in his lips.

"Enjoy the song, there?" you teased once you pulled back, tracing your fingers under his jawline.

"Hell yeah!" Eijirou flashed those perfect sharp little teeth of his in yet another heart-stopping grin. Did he have any idea what that smile did to both Bakugou and you? He had to know it turned your hearts to pure hot chocolate, right?

"Got a song rec, Bakubabe?" you asked, turning to your blond boyfriend. "You mustn't be excluded from our concert on this fine morning."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway because your shit rolls are almost done."

You glanced at the oven timer, which was, in fact, counting down the seconds until it went off. "Ha ha ha! My children!"

You slid out of Eijirou's hold to grab your oven mitt out of its drawer. The oven went off with a drawn-out beep the moment you stepped up to it, cracking the door open and taking a peek inside. A wonderful smell hit you in the face along with a gust of hot air, and the sight of six perfectly golden cinnamon rolls greeted you.

"Look at them!" you said as you pulled them out with your mitted hand. You turned off the oven and canceled the timer before walking back to the counter to let the pan cool.

"Can I ice them?" Eijirou asked, coming up behind you to get a good look.

"Not yet. They have to cool first."

"Aww, man."

You pulled out a new spoon to use for frosting, since the previous one had been breathed all over. Next you began to clear off the counter, picking up any pieces of orange peel abandoned from breakfast.

Kirishima leaned against the counter again, taking a deep breath of the cinnamon roll smell that had flooded the kitchen. "I love it when you bake, (Y/N)," he said. "It's so much fun. The kitchen smells great, everything always tastes great—"

"Always?" you asked skeptically with a smirk.

"I guess there was that one time," he admitted. "That was—that was probably not a very good idea."

"If it weren't for me," Bakugou cut in, "you would have burned the whole house down."

"An artist must experiment with her craft." You flipped your hair a bit, turning back to your kitchen maintenance. There wasn't much to do. Between both yours and Bakugou's preference for a neat house, your counters usually stayed pretty clear.

Eijirou glanced at the bowl of icing, dipping the tip of his finger into the white mixture. "You know what this looks like?"

"No," you and Bakugou said at the same time firmly, understanding what he meant immediately.

"Shot down," Eijirou said. "You're right, that wasn't that good."

You putzed for another minute, finally hovering your hand over the cooling pan. "That should be good enough."

You had Eijirou harden the tips of his fingers to hold the pan as you began moving the rolls out onto a plate. He started humming again as you drove the spatula under the baked goods.

"Seriously?" Bakugou asked, having inched closer to watch. "Again with the singing?"

"I've got a song in my manly, chivalrous heart," Kirishima said, turning to grin at him. "Can't help it. I'm in the zone."

"I'm liking this zone," you said. "It's fun."

You pushed the icing bowl to Eijirou and took out another spoon for yourself, dipping it in and allowing the sugary liquid to drizzle over the golden brown confections. Kirishima did the same on his own, still humming the tune of Be A Man from Mulan and nodding his head to the individual notes. You danced along with him, moving your hips to his favorite Disney song.

Kirishima's eyes wandered down to your swaying movements. You really did wear those shorts nicely.

You jumped at the sensation of a large hand gently grabbing at your butt. Turning, you saw Eijirou's slight smile on his lips. "Eiji?"

"What?"

"Didn't you get enough last night?"

Kirishima shrugged, finally removing his hand. "Can't a man admire his woman's perfect body?"

You rolled your eyes, tapping the sugar-coated spoon to his nose.

He blinked at the cold sticky sensation, going cross-eyed in an attempt to look at the drop of icing. "Yeah, I probably deserved that."

You smirked and rolled your eyes as you went back to icing your cinnamon rolls, watching Eijirou out of the corner of your eye. He was trying to figure out if his tongue was long enough to lick it off the tip of his nose, but so far, of course, he was having difficulties.

"Idiot," Bakugou said, taking Kirishima's chin and turning his face to his. He captured the sweet white droplet between his lips and swiped his tongue over it.

Kirishima's eyes widened at the gesture. "Katsuki?"

"What?" Bakugou shot him a teasing grin. "You had something on your face."

You chuckled at the two of them, tearing off a roll from the bunch. Eijirou noticed your action and took one for himself, cheeks a little pinker than usual. Bakugou watched as you both bit down.

Eijirou bounced a little on his toes as he chewed the sweet bread. "So good!"

You smiled and nodded in agreement. "Mhm!"

Bakugou looked from you to Kirishima, then to the plate of warm rolls.

"Sure you don't want one, Katsuki?" you asked. "They're pretty good."

The blond sighed, finally grabbing a roll for himself. "It's too late to be cooking breakfast now."

"He cracked!" you said, turning your gaze to Kirishima.

"Did not." Bakugou aggressively took a large bite out of his cinnamon roll.

"You said you weren't going to have any." You cocked your head at him, taking another bite of your own.

"Did I?" Bakugou smirked at you and licked a bit of frosting off his lip.

You thought back for a moment. Maybe he hadn't. He'd certainly acted like it though.

"Well, do you like it?" you prodded.

"Sure." Bakugou shrugged and examined the cross-section of his roll. "Probably would have been better if you'd actually made it yourself."

You folded your arms. "Too much work. I wanted a cinnamon roll and they had them in the store. Simple as throwing them in the oven."

"But the preservatives," he argued.

"But my lacking baking skills. Besides, now I'll live forever."

"Hah? That's not how that works, dumbass."

"Well, I think they're perfect." Eijirou cut in. He put an arm around you and Katsuki and pulled you into either side of him. "You've got the spice—" he kissed Katsuki on his cheek, "—and you've got the sugar." He kissed your cheek.

"What the fuck, Shitty Hair."

"I'm not always sugar," you half-heartedly protested, snorting a little at his cheesiness and ignoring Bakugou.

Eijirou paused for a second, considering. "Yeah, okay. But . . . my metaphor."

"Your metaphor is stupid."

You swatted at Katsuki. "Oh, shut up. What are you in this situation, Eiji?"

He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm . . . maybe you tie us together," you said, beginning to run your fingertips over his forearm. "Roll us up tight in your arms."

Both Kirishima and Bakugou blinked at you for a moment, cheeks dusted a shade darker than normal.

"So we're a cinnamon roll?" Kirishima asked.

"Ye—"

"I AM NOT A CINNAMON ROLL!" Katsuki shuffled against Eijirou's arm without really trying to get away.

"I think you are," you said. "What do you say, Eiji? He's an adorable smol bean—"

"No."

"—too precious for this world—"

"NO."

"—protecc at all costs—"

Bakugou threw the remaining third of his cinnamon roll at you, and it bounced off your head onto the floor.

"HEY—!"

He slipped out of Kirishima's arm for real this time, making an advance towards you. You ducked out of the redhead's hold too, running off to the living room.

"I PUT MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THOSE ROLLS, KATSUKI!" you called behind you.

"Sure."

"JUST ADMIT YOU'RE MY PRECIOUS BABY CINNAMON ROLL."

"Never!"

Eijirou listened to the sounds of his partners chasing each other through the house. Finishing off his morning treat, he smiled, thinking about how lucky he was to have the two of you. You no longer hid anything from each other, and everything was laid out in the open. Your futures were bright, and Kirishima knew in his heart that you'd forever be happy as long as you were together. From now on, your feelings would remain disclosed.

☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆.☆*･゜ﾟ･**･゜ﾟ･*☆

[Big Secret]

[Little Secret]

Taglist: @loxbbg @runrabbitrun3 @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @sokkasangel @xoxopam4

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kiribaku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #sugar fics

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madneywhre · 4 years

Text

The Misfits

Hi! So I am currently writing a highschool AU called The Misfits. It is about the BAU as teenagers. Going through four of the roughest years of their lives. Highschool sucks for everyone, especially when you go through it alone. Rolling with the punches of life and high school, these students find solace in each other. Anyways! It continues after the break

CW! Mentions of mental abuse, emotional neglect, physical abuse, suicide, and homophobic slurs.

---

Spencer woke up early… way too early, but he was excited. This was his first day of highschool. Sure, he was at least five years younger than everyone in his grade, but he was ready. His mother on the other hand was not. She hadn’t moved out of her room in three days. He walked into the room and went over to her bed.

“Good Morning Mama, I start high school today.” He says seeing that she was awake and reading. She looked at him and back at her book without saying a word, he realized that she was too far gone to respond right now. He walked out of the room sadly, going to the kitchen to look for food of some sort. He had become used to doing things by himself, adapting to the new changes. His dad had left six months earlier, which only worsened his mother's downward spiral. Spencer wanted his mom to get him ready for his first day: to cook him breakfast, pack his lunch, maybe even do the cheesy pictures that other moms did. But not Diana. No. Never Diana. Electronics were evil, from the government. His dad had bought him a phone and paid the bill; the only thing he did. Not that he ever answered Spencer's attempts to reach out but it was nice to have though, just in case.

After standing on plenty of stools, Spencer decided on poptarts. He popped the strawberry pastries in the toaster and shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking as he waited for the poptarts to become warm and toasty. His mind wandered to a time two years ago, his first day of middle school. His mom was still lucid then, she had made him breakfast and read to him. He was only seven then,he was nine now; always was smart for his age. It wasn’t easy to be the youngest in the grade. He got jostled around a lot and took a lot of elbows to the nose, but he was used to it. He was also used to the looks he got when he did the advanced work in class,the looks of doubt. He hated them. His attention popped back to the pastries when they sprung up in the toaster. He jumped before realizing what had just happened. He pulled them out and hissed at the heat, dropping them onto a paper towel. He sat and ate, allowing his mind to wander again. Remembering his mom before she went down hill. Before he was forced into being his own parent, he was already expected to be an adult.He just wanted to be cared for, like most kids did,he was only nine after all. Sure, he was in highschool, but he was still little. He still wanted the crutch of his mom and dad. He wanted to be held. When he went into his mom’s room earlier, he had hoped for her to scoop him up and give him a kiss on the forehead, and read some poetry to him. Or even just talk to him. Just be a human, and she would, in time…

After he finished eating, he had to rush to get dressed. Trying his best not to think about the fact that he had to walk the five and a half miles to school. He was too young to sign himself up for the school bus, obviously too young to drive, and on top of that he didn’t have anyone to carpool with. He rushed into his room and pulled on a pair of corduroy slacks, his old striped comfort sweater, and his tennis shoes. The only reason he wore a sweater was because it helped calm him down when he was having sensory issues, though he was always cold. Probably from the lack of vitamins in his diet. He rushed to pack his lunch, not able to find his old lunch bag, so he used a grocery sack. He remembered when his dad would pack his lunch and he lost some composure. Small tears stinging at the corners of his eye, a lump rising in his throat, the building pressure behind his nose. He pushed it all down, while making a sloppy PB and J and throwing a sleeve of Saltines into the sack. He called it a day and got his bag, shoving his lunch in the torn backpack. He walked out of the door and started the trek to school, getting to watch the sunrise. The purples made a small smile peak at his cheeks, the pinks mixing with the oranges made his chest feel warm. His hands flapped happily and he walked with a small bounce in his step. Sweat already starting to bead at his forehead.

It took him an hour and a half, but he got to the school in enough time to get his schedule. He knew that he was assigned a guide for the first day, just to help him around the school because he was so young. Spencer walked into the main office, and didn’t even clear the top of the counter, his messy curls peeking up from behind it.

“Um, excuse me. I need to get my schedule.” He said in a squeaky voice.

“Okay honey, just come right around here.” The nice secretary lady said. Her name plate read Alex Blake.

The small boy walked around to her side of the counter and smiled at her. “I’m Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D.” He said confidently, trying to show that he belonged here.

“Oh the youngin. Okay honey, your freshman guide is Aaron Hotchner. He is a Junior. You guys surprisingly have a similar schedule, so stick with him. Let me know if you need anything.” She said, pointing him over to a tall ravenette man.

He walked over, and in a small voice approached him. “Hi, I’m Spencer, your freshman. I need my schedule, please.” He said with a squeak, his voice rising in pitch because he was nervous.

“Hey Spencer, um… Here is your schedule, we actually have a first period and lunch together. So just stick with me for a bit and we can head off to our first class. Which just so happens to be Algebra II.” He said without looking at the kid. He handed him his schedule and held back a gasp. “How old are you?” He asked in a hushed voice.

Spencer wasn’t surprised this was one of the first questions. He had become used to this. “I’m nine… I know I’m little, but I am advanced. I have a high IQ and tested when I was seven, being placed into seventh grade. Now I’m nine in the ninth.” He liked how that had worked. So far, this hadn’t sucked.

…

Jennifer had woken up hours earlier, going on a run before school. She did her best to stay in shape during her off season, still allowing herself to indulge in normal teenage things from time to time. WIthin the three hours she had been awake, the young woman had already worked out and showered, standing in front of her mirror, looking at the shell of the person she once was. Tired, dark bags fell under her eyes, her face puffy from the long nights spent crying herself to sleep. Her sister had died seven months ago. Her sister's room had been left untouched, besides the clothes that she had taken from her closet. She would sleep in her sister's hoodie, only to put it back the next day so it wouldn’t lose her smell. Her death hit her harder than she let on. She had slowly started to become numb inside, forcing a smile only around her parents and friends. Everytime she passed her sister's bedroom a small piece of her heart would break again.

Today was supposed to be the day her older sister started Senior year. They were going to be in school together for one year. Their year. Jennifer shook her head at the thought. Refusing to let tears fall from her eyes once more. She felt so broken and weak, though everyone told her it was normal. It would probably be easier if everywhere she turned Rosalyn wasn’t staring back at her. Her door being open, a crack, her shampoo bottle, the untouched toothbrush. Everywhere Jennifer looked she saw her dead sister. She refused to shower in the bathtub after finding her sister in it. She tried… once. It ended with her shaking and crying in the tub, her mom having to turn off the water and pick her up. Since then she barely walked into that bathroom. She blinked, being brought back to reality. She puts on a burnt red dress with paisley print on it, paired with simple white shoes. She brushed through her hair, and tied it up, a ribbon lacing around the ponytail. She had opted for a softer sense of style. Mainly to portray the happiness she longed to feel.

She soon walked downstairs, greeted by her mother. Her father was already at work, having seemed burying himself in it since the death. Her mom was the American Dream of a mother: supportive, stay at home mom that cooks breakfast and dinner. She loved her mom, though she wished she saw her break down just once. Not just act like everything was okay.

“Good morning sunshine, how did you sleep?” Sandy asked cheerfully.

Jennifer looked at her and put on the fake smile that had an all too comfortable home on her face. “Good morning, Mom. I slept well. What’s for breakfast?” She asked in a happy voice.

“French toast, eggs, sausage, fruit, and orange juice.” She answered, setting a plate of food in front of her. Sandy was sweet, really. And Jennifer appreciated her so much for the things she did.

Jennifer's eyes lit up when the food was sat in front of her. She took a sip of her orange juice and smiled at her mom. “Thank you Mama. It looks really good.”

Sandy smiled softly, living to see the smile of her daughter. It broke her when Rosalyn killed herself. She never let Jennifer see how it hurt her. She had to be strong for her daughter, keep her afloat too. She would cry when Jennifer wasn’t around. Sitting on the rug of her eldest’s floor, her smell enveloping her as she sobbed into it. Blaming herself for not seeing the warning signs of her daughter's depression. The withdrawal, the sudden “I love you’s’, soon to be followed by long hugs.

Both ladies had happy, light conversations until it was time to leave for school. The time Jennifer was dreading. Sandy drove her happily, happy to see her daughter entering such a crucial time in her life. Reminding her not to forget that she had volleyball practice after school. After multiple rounds of I love yous and goodbyes, Jennifer walked into the school. She walked to the Secretary and was assigned her Freshman Guide. Emily Prentiss. Jennifer shrugged it off until she saw the other female. The blonde had known that she liked girls, coming to terms with it over the summer, though you couldn’t tell by looking at her. Emily was gorgeous. She had a totally opposite look of the younger woman. Tall, pale, dark haired beauty. Jennifer felt heat rush to her cheeks. ‘Keep it together Jareau!’ She thought to herself.

“So you’re the freshie I have. Good to know. I’m Emily.” She said with a nod.

“I’m Jennifer,” she said with a squeak in her voice that she swallowed.

“I’m gonna call you JJ. Fits you better. Here’s your schedule. Try to keep up.” She says handing her it and walking off.

JJ. She liked it. She made a mental note of it. From this day forward she was JJ.

…

Penelope has already been up for hours. Grooming herself to look perfect for the first day. She wanted to make sure everyone knew who Penelope Garcia was,though she wished her last name fit her better. During roll call she always had to explain that she was, in fact, Penelope Garcia. She had buried her feelings with her parents. Six feet under. After her parents died, she moved to Virginia and moved in with her mom’s best friend, of whom she thought of, and called her aunt. This was the first year she wanted to be back in school,the previous year she opted to do homeschooling. She didn’t want to be around anyone, but she decided that this year would be different. She would push herself to be happy. She was going to force herself into her old happy persona. Maybe it would start to feel real to her again. Though the issue wasn’t that she was sad, it was that she wouldn’t allow herself to be. She felt the need to be happy all the time. Show everyone how strong she is. That was except for one person, Derek Morgan. He was the next door neighbor's son. Her aunt had set her up to hang out with him because they had one thing in common: a dead parent. They had hit it off. He would come over and just talk to her some days when she was having a bad day, sitting out in a tree that she thought was secluded, until Derek came up. She was crying and he let her cry on his shoulder. He told her that it would all feel better soon. That it would take time. And from that moment forward, they were best friends. Soon morphing into more. This summer they had made it official.

Penelope smelled the familiar smell of chocolate chip pancakes through the air and followed it downstairs. Greeting her aunt with a bubbly smile. “Good morning Alyssa! It smells amazing!” She complemented. They both sat and ate, light conversation flowing between them. She received the text that Derek was ready, finally home and showered from his football practice.

“Goodbye Alyssa. Derek is gonna drive me to school today. Love you!” She called out from the doorway. Her black skirt ruffling up in the breeze.

“Have a good day Pen!” She called back, the screen door slamming in response.

Penelope walked over to Derek’s house, knocking on the door. He greets her with a toothy smile. “Good morning baby girl” He says, wrapping one arm around her shoulder as he walked out to his car with her. They had been dating for about four months, though they had been pining for at least eight months.

“Good morning handsome. Are you ready for sophomore year?” She asked, smiling at the male. He always held her hand while they drove. He could drive early because he had a birthday that fell early in the year.

“Of course I am, are you? I know how hard this is. Especially since you’re new.”

“I’m ready. I’m just gonna take this year by the horns, no one knows me, no one knows what happened. No one knows my past. All they know is I’m the new girl. That's all they need to know.” She says matter of factly.

Derek looked over at her and smiled. “Okay, but remember. I understand, and I am always here. No matter what, no matter how bad you think it is. I’m in your corner.”

Penelope blushed softly, “Thank you… I know.”

After ten minutes they pull up to the school. Penelope took a deep breath and swallowed. Smoothing out her pink top. She looked cute, really. Pink top, black skirt, white shoes. Though, her and Derek looked out of place together.

She looks over at him and smiles, pecking him on the cheek. “Lets go kick ass.”

Derek let out a nice hearty laugh and rolled his eyes, “Lets go kick ass.”

They walked into the school, hand in hand, smiles on both of their faces, like nothing could ruin their happy high,

…

Five a.m always came too early in Derek’s opinion. Groaning as he rolled out of bed, he threw on his practice uniform and grabbed his equipment bag, heading to the field. When he arrived, he ran his five laps around the field and then drank water, heading out to practice. Three long hours later he was dripping sweat, putting away his cleats.

One of his teammates comes over to him, “Yo Morgan, you coming out to breakfast with the team? We’re going to IHop before school. It’s a tradition.”

“Nah man, I’m good. Thank you though.” Derek said, not wanting to give an explanation to why.

“Come one man! It’s tradition! It's your first year on varsity, just give me a good reason why, and I will leave you alone. Just one good, legitimate reason why.”

“I’m… I’m picking up my girl okay? It’s her first day here, and I promised her I would pick her up and drive her. Chill?”

“Show me a picture of ‘your girl’ and I’ll leave it be. Lady Man Morgan.” He teased, pushing his shoulder.

Derek pulled out his phone and showed him his lockscreen, him and Penelope together, Her head resting on his chest. There was a significant height difference between the pair. “That's my girl. Her name is Penelope, but I call her Pen.” He boasts, until he hears a scoff and a chuckle. Who did this kid think he was?

“Oh, THAT’S your girl. Dude just skip her. She ain’t cute anyways.”

Derek felt a small bubble of anger rise in his chest, “Watch what you say, that’s my girl. You right, she ain’t cute, she is beautiful. I can’t see what would make you think otherwise McClellan.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Come on… It’s obvious isn’t it? The ELEPHANT in the room… Well picture I guess.” He added snarkily. Of course he was talking about her weight, most people did. It always pissed Derek off in public, when people would see them at dinner and stare at her. Making comments about her or what she was eating.

Derek glared at him, “Oh… so you’re that type of asshole. Okay, well be sure to never invite me anywhere with you again. I would much rather hang out with my girlfriend. She is gorgeous, funny, kind, smart, and stronger than you would ever be.” He spat, turning away and texting her. ‘Good morning, gorgeous. I hope you slept well, I just got out of practice. Will be ready to go at 9:00’

She responded almost immediately, like normal. ‘Good morning babe :), I slept amazing, I’ll meet you at your front door.’

Derek smiled and put his phone away, driving home. Greeted by his two older sisters in the kitchen, Desiree and Sarah. They basically raised him. His mom was always busy working as a nurse at the hospital, and his dad died in Chicago when he was ten. It was still hard, even after six years. Big dates always reminds him of the lack of a father. The first day was no different. His fifth grade year was his last first day with his dad. His dad would always make chocolate chip waffles and give him a pep talk. Tell him to be good, make sure he was always kind, and then kiss his forehead, and ruffle his hair. He missed it every year.

Desiree tried to keep the tradition of chocolate chip waffles alive, trying to keep their dad alive with the memories. “Der! I made waffles for you, for after you shower. Please shower first. You smell like sweaty boy and feet.” She called from the kitchen, not even seeing him yet.

Derek just laughs in response and goes upstairs getting ready for the day. He looks in the mirror and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Dad, I promise this year I am going to do my best in school, I’m going to stay out of trouble, and I’m always going to be kind. I gotta girlfriend this year. You would love her pops. She’s feisty, she’s so smart and kind. Her folks are gone too. Maybe you know them… maybe not. I don’t know how it works, but I gotta go pops. I love you.” He said into the mirror. Sometimes he would talk to the picture of his dad that he hung on his mirror, looking himself in the eyes. He found it helped on the hard days.

He walked downstairs and smiled when he smelled the waffles, “You guys are the best!” He commented through a mouthful of hot waffle. Light banter flows between the siblings, followed by hugs. Derek leaves when Penelope walks over to his house, hearing her humming something before she even knocks at the door. He smiles widely at her, she looked pretty today. He always had thought she was pretty, even when they had first met. “Good morning, baby girl!” He greeted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close so he could secretly get a smell of her perfume. She always smelled sweet, like vanilla, or cake.

The two drove to school, Derek holding her hand the entire time. They hadn’t kissed or anything yet. Just hand holding, they had cuddled while watching movies, but they both didn’t want to hurt the other. Derek knew she wasn’t in the best state, so he was always her best friend first, boyfriend came second.

He looks over at her and smiles when she says, “Let’s kick ass.” “Let’s kick ass.”

…

Emily woke up bright and early, dealing with her mother. Of course, today of all days she had to be home. She woke up to her light being flipped on, “Emily! Get out of bed, it is six in the morning. You have school today!” Her mother said, her voice raised.

“Mother. It’s six. School starts at NINE FIFTEEN.” She said, her pillow now over her eyes, “Leave me alone.” She groans

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, you have two minutes to get out of bed before I pour water on you. Now. And look presentable.” She commands, the door slamming shut with her exit.

Emily groaned and got out of her bed, her dark messy curls falling over her eyes. She lets out an annoyed huff and throws her hair into a messy ponytail and walks to the bathroom. She washes her face and then goes into her room, pulling out an outfit. Fishnet tights, ripped jeans, cuffed of course, a black and white striped long sleeved shirt, and a band tee over it. She slipped on her Doc’s and an assortment of chains. Her mom always hated how she looked, how she dressed. It started out as a way to piss her mom off, show her that she isn’t some political figure. She never would be. She sat down at her vanity to do her makeup, she favored dark colors, purples and blacks mainly. She smiled as she winged her eyeliner, it came out perfectly. The raven headed girl decided to go downstairs, drink some coffee. Maybe it would make her feel better.

When she got downstairs her mother audibly gasped, “Emily! You look like the grim reaper's wife!”

Emily looked at her and rolled her eyes, walking over to the cabinet and getting the items to make her coffee, pouring the cream into the bottom of a tumbler filled with ice, pouring the hot coffee over it. “As long as SHE is pretty, I’ll take it,” She mouthed, knowing her mother hated her sexuality. She often told her it was a phase, just a rebellion.

Elizabeth dropped the spoon she was using to eat her oats, “Emily, you and I both know that you’re just rebelling. Don’t talk that homosexual talk in this household. It’s dirty and imperfect. We’re Prentiss’ we don’t do those things.”

The teen looked at her and scoffed, her heart dropping. She took it, always did, always would. Though she would never show her mother the pain she caused; she would never let her win. The second that Emily showed any trace of hurt, she would win. Emily translated that to her normal social life. Always making herself look like a hardass, scaring everyone around her. She couldn’t let herself be vulnerable, or else her mother would use it, and treat it like a weakness. Emily was always a pawn in her mother's political games. She knew it.

Emily had let the stress get to her, taking the coffee upstairs, she dug in her bedside drawer to grab her old friend. She would smoke weed whenever she needed to relax, whenever her life seemed like too much. She was high most of the time. She normally used a dab pen, though sometimes she would use a (joint/blunt). She never used bongs, she held herself higher than that. She put the pen to her mouth and inhaled. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hold…. Inhale. Exhale. She repeated this process a couple of times, feeling the buzz of more vapor in her lungs than air, knowing that's her sign to stop. She could longboard to school now. Forget about the rest of her problems momentarily. Though, it was less than ideal to do in her boots.

She goes downstairs, and thankfully her mother is gone. She said her goodbyes to her nanny, Amanda, and walked out the front door with her long board in one hand, her backpack on, and her music blaring in her ears. She would listen to a mix of most everything. Sometimes it was screamo, sometimes it was soft pop. Today it was her love playlist. She liked to imagine herself riding alongside a pretty girl, holding her hand as they skated together. She pushed the two miles to school, arriving early anyways. She makes a beeline for the secretary. She had become close to her the previous school year after Blake found her crying in the bathroom because of her mother. The vile names she had spit at her. Ever since then she had become a confidant.

“Blake! You will not believe what happened. Ugh! It was so fucking, sorry, freaking stupid!” She huffed, pulling a chair besides her desk.

“Well, good morning to you too Emily. What happened?” She asked, holding back a laugh

“Well for starters, my mother was home. That in and of itself is horrible. Then she wakes me up at six this morning, demanding I get up and dressed. So I did. But THAT wasn’t good enough for her either, now was it?” She spat angrily, her hands tapping on her leg that was bouncing up and down, anxiety still very obviously present.

“Oh… wow. She said something about your clothes didn’t she?”

“OF COURSE she did. Because GOD FORBID her precious little perfect angel. She said something about me looking like the Grim Reaper’s wife. So I said as long as SHE is pretty, I don’t care. That thoroughly pissed her off. It’s like she just doesn’t care. I’m not her perfect little girl, and she can’t use me, so she decides that I’m just not good enough. All A’s and on honor roll, not to mention the advanced classes. But THAT'S not good enough.” She ranted, the older woman listening, nodding her head and adding small affirmatives.

“I’m sorry that she is like that. I think that your outfit is quite cool, and she has no reason to get mad at you over that. It is your sexuality, and you can’t control who you like. I wish I could help you, but from what I’ve heard, she isn’t around much, and your nanny is pretty accepting.”

Emily nodded, taking a ragged breath, “You’re right… I better shut up, there is a freshman” Emily says, seeing a blonde girl walk in. She looked like that Junior that committed suicide. Shit. That was her sister. She was gorgeous, unique looking. She was soft. Her hair framing her angular face perfectly. She was just beautiful. Emily honestly forgot to breathe for a moment, letting her face turn a rosy color before realizing what she was doing. She shook her head and got up, walking behind the desk, over to distract herself.

It took about ten minutes, but Alex came over to Emily, presenting her with the freshman. Her mind started to race, the pretty girl standing in front of her, leaving her speechless. She soon heard that her name was Jennifer. JJ… It fit. It was soft enough to be spoken with the utmost love, but also to be called carelessly. She made it known too.

“I’m gonna call you JJ, it fits you better. Here’s your schedule, try to keep up.” She spoke back, trying so hard not to turn into a pile of mush in front of her. She turned on her heels and walked fastly in the other direction, making sure no one could see the radiant smile painted on her face.

…

Aaron woke up at 5:30, making sure he had enough time to get breakfast ready for his mother and his little brother. He had always made sure to step up, wanting to make the house a more peaceful place. His dad had begun taking his rough days and frustrations out on Aaron, soon becoming more than just yelling. The young boy made sure to keep his brother and mother safe, taking the brunt of the abuse. His father died when he was fourteen, and he had a wave of relief crash over him. He knew that he didn’t have to take the abuse any longer, he didn’t have to wait until his father went to sleep to do things because he was afraid of getting thrown against the wall. He didn’t have to step in between his mother and his father, letting the punches land on his body. The first time his father ever hit Sean was the day Aaron knew he wasn’t able to be a kid. He grew up extremely fast, acting and talking like an adult from the age of eight. He had never learned how to be a kid. He never knew how to play with other kids. And that would come to affect him. He was always seen as the hardass, from the clothes he would wear, to the way he talked. He was always more mature, not laughing at the jokes his classmates would tell, not really having many friends. He always stuck up for everyone though. He would see freshmen being made fun of by upperclassmen and he would make sure he put a stop to it.

The ravenette would make his family breakfast everyday, today he was making them french toast and eggs. He saw a very sleepy looking Sean bound down the hallway, his hair a sleep ridden mess. “Good morning, breakfast is on the table. I need to go get ready for school. You have forty five minutes to eat and get dressed. I’m walking you to the bus stop this morning.” He said leaving the room, running into his mother in the hallway. “Good morning mama, breakfast is on the table. Have a good day at work.”

The male got into the shower quickly, rushing to get ready. He pulled on a pair of khakis and a green polo shirt, looking like a dad about to go golfing. He chuckled and rolled his eyes at his reflection, smoothing out his hair. He looked at his phone and realized that he needed to get a move on. He took Sean to the bus stop, walking back for his friend, Dave Rossi to pick him up. Dave and him had been friends since elementary school, seeking solace in each other. He was the stability that Dave needed, and Dave was the rebellion he needed. The man pulled up in his classic convertible. Aaron climbed into the front seat, relaxing into the leather.

“Hey Dave, thanks for picking me up.” He piped up with a small smile.

“Aaron! It’s no issue. How is Sean and Amanda?”

“Oh, they’re good. Sean misses you, he keeps asking me when you’re coming over again. Mom misses you too.”

Dave smiled at him and hummed in response, “I’ll have to come over one night for dinner” He said, pulling into the school. It was a short drive, but it was one that was well worth the gas.

Aaron walked into the school building and met with Blake, getting introduced with his freshman. Spencer Reid. When he saw the boy he was confused, he looked like a child. “Hi, I’m Aaron. What’s your name?”

“Spencer, I’m your freshman. I need my schedule.” He squeaked out. Damn he even sounded young.

Aaron was puzzled. How old was this kid? “Hey Spencer, um… Here is your schedule, we actually have a first period and lunch together. So just stick with me for a bit and we can head off to our first class. Which just so happens to be Algebra II. How old are you?” He asked, his voice lower in pitch.

Spencer looked up at him. “I’m nine… I know I’m little, but I am advanced. I have a high IQ and tested when I was seven, being placed into seventh grade. Now I’m nine in the ninth.”

Aaron looked at him, keeping his face in a calm manner. Nine. He was nine in high school. He knew that he needed to protect him. He was an easy target. He led the boy to their first hour, showing him the ropes. Maybe this year wouldn’t be terrible.

…

David woke up to the smell of food cooking. This was new. Normally he was home alone. He used to have his nanny Laura around, but when he started highschool his parents decided he was old enough to stay home without constant supervision. He missed the company though, seeing as how they had grown a nice friendship in the time. He wandered downstairs and saw his parents in the kitchen, a warm smile spreading across his face. They were home… For the first time in at least a month.

“Ma! Pa!” He greeted from the doorway, soon walking into the kitchen. He felt a warm bubble of happiness in his chest, something he felt less and less. The young man was lonely to say the least. He never had his parents around as a kid. He was always being handed around from nanny to butler, his parents deciding to buy his love instead. It started with nice toys, soon turning to electronics, and then a car. He was spoiled, but not on his own accord. He knew that his parents felt guilty for how they were absent in his life.

“Bambino!” His father greets, kissing the side of his head obnoxiously like the Italian father he was. Though the warmth of the moment was short lived when his phone rang, calling both him and Mrs. Rossi into work. Dave sighed, knowing that no arguing or sadness could help his case.

Dave sat in silence, eating the eggs his dad had made for him. He put his dirty dishes in the sink rinsing them off to make his job easier for later. Even though he had people to do these things for him, he insisted on doing it himself. He wasn’t that lazy. He knew that he would be on his own, so he figured he needed to know those basic life skills. He did get to learn some things from his friend Aaron. Aaron and him had been friends since fourth grade, despite the social classes. He thought of Aaron like an older brother, though they were the same age. He needed the responsibility and boundaries the other male had, craving that himself.

Dave walked upstairs, getting ready for the day. A hot shower, followed by jeans, a white tee-shirt and a leather jacket. His hair messily fluffed to the side. He went for a Greaser esc style. He packed his bag, soon going out to his car to pick Aaron up. He felt bad for the man because he didn’t drive yet, he was too busy to deal with minimal things. Or that is what he said. When he got to the males house, he smiled warmly. He was so alone at home, any interaction made him happy. When Aaron told him Sean missed him his heart swelled. Dave was an only child. He always loved children, being around them, playing or talking to them, coloring, really anything they wanted. He thought of the Hotchner family as his family away from home. Amanda being around more than his mother ever was.

Dave pulled into the school at 7:15, leaving time to screw around before his first hour. His grades never suffered from his antics. He felt himself slipping into the persona of David Rossi, the class clown. He acted different at school, making himself overly obnoxious, trying to be funny because he wanted acceptance. Was that really too much to ask?

#spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds au #high school au #themisfits

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poorlittleangels · 5 years

Text

Eating yourself sick

(Castor being taking care of by caring Aina after having been held and tortured. Unfortunately he can't help his hunger.)

"Hold tight, dear, it won't be long," Aina said from the small kitchen. She was making him his breakfast, a big bowl of porridge with maybe a bit of broth. Her pot of water was at a rolling boil as she hummed to herself, an apron over her long brown dress. The morning was calm and dew sparkled on every blade of grass he could see from his parted curtains. The sunlight fell grayish gold on the floorboards.

He rubbed his stomach, lightheaded with hunger. The past few weeks, he hadn't had much of an appetite. He could barely eat more than a few mouthfuls of whatever Aina fed him, though she gently pleaded with him to try some more. She worried about how thin and pale he looked, how his hair and nails were dry and brittle, how his skin looked stretched taut over his bones. He had just gone without food for so long - maybe once every few days getting tossed some stale bread and water - that his stomach wasn't used to much more, and Aina would sigh and put away the dishes, hoping he would feel better tomorrow.

Today, however, he awoke ravenous. He mentioned it to Aina, whose face alighted with joy for a moment before she went to make him something to eat. He laid there, knowing it would be rude to rush her, but all the same growing more desperate every second. His mind began to wander into decadence - he thought of warm, soft pastries, creamy soup, meat and vegetables and cake... He missed eating. His family and friends knew how he loved his food - he wasn't sure how he hadn't grown fat with how much he ate. At every meal he took seconds, or packed away the leftovers, sometimes asking if someone else planned on finishing their meal so he could scrape up some more.

Aina came in with a bowl of fruit she had been washing, setting it down on a nightstand while she rummaged in the drawer below. "Now where did I leave that..." A little more rummaging and she took out one of her hair barettes that she had misplaced. "There you are." She twisted and pinned back her long dark hair. "Oh, Castor, your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." She left the bowl of fruit out, absent-minded as she was.

A few minutes later she brought out his bowl of porridge, along with her own breakfast, setting them down on a short table she moved closer to the bed. "Careful, dear, it's a bit hot. Don't want to hurt yourself." She gave it a stir. "I know how hungry you are." She looked out the window, narrowing her eyes. Then she smacked her forehead with her palm in exasperation. "My, I left the laundry out drying all night! I forgot to go get it after supper." She sprang up and hurried towards the door, grabbing the hamper. "I'm so sorry, go ahead and eat when you're ready. I'll be right back. My, I can't believe myself-" She shut the door behind her, leaving the room quiet.

Castor looked to his side. Aina had laid out a big bowl of steaming hot porridge with a spoon, and a little cup of chicken broth. It was bland food, but he knew it'd be delicious, as Aina's cooking always was. His stomach growled. He took a tentative bite. It was too hot, so he set the spoon aside to let it cool. As hungry as he was, he knew he'd burn his mouth.

Over on the table sat Aina's breakfast. A sticky pastry, covered in glaze, with its bakery wrapper half stuck to it. Aina had already taken a bite out of it, exposing the chocolate center. Next to it was a tall, frothy glass of milk.

It was exactly what he'd been dreaming of. Without thinking he leaned forward and grabbed it, too hungry to care if she'd miss it. It was sweet and flaky and buttery. He couldn't have stopped eating had he been tied and bound. In just a few bites he was finished, and licked the rest off his fingers. He reached for the glass of milk, and, steadying it in shaking hands, drained it in a few gulps. It was the best he had ever drank, fresh and rich.

His porridge had gotten cool enough to eat, and he ate messily, tilting the bowl and scraping it into his mouth. The more he ate, he found, the more his appetite grew. As though he was making up for all those days with nothing to eat, filling in the pangs of hunger with butter and sugar and dairy. He didn't care how savage he was being. He just needed to eat, to satisfy his stomach.

He moved on to the bowl of fruit, glistening and freshly washed. A few cherries, he popped them into his mouth without bothering to spit the seeds out. A peach, juicy and succulent. He tore through it all, not thinking. A tangerine, a few strawberries, whatever else, he tore into the soft flesh until his teeth were burning with all the sugar.

He startled at the clicking of the doorknob. He froze. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. He settled down, his heart still racing. In his hand was a fresh, ripe plum - he bit into it, breaking the skin, letting the sticky juice drip down his hands and chin. He had never tasted anything so sweet.

He didn't hear Aina coming in, opening the door with her knee, balancing the basket of clothes on her hip. She hefted it inside and sighed, relieved of the burden.

"My," she said breathlessly, "that's a lot of clothes." She started toward the bedroom. "Good thing it didn't rain last night, hm? I still can't believe I forgot."

She stopped in his doorway. "Castor?"

He looked up at her, struck by a wave of panic. He had the plum in his hand, the juices and seeds of the fruit all over him. Red cherry stains on his soft white shirt and sticky syrup on his fingers. He felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. Imagine being caught like this! He was less than human, just a hungry animal bent on ruining himself.

"Castor, dear..." She hung up her apron and knelt by his side. He let out a choked sob and let the other half of the fruit roll into the bowl. How had he been so stupid? Eating himself sick like a puppy finding a dropped piece of meat. He felt the raw shame spread across his cheeks, the same as when his brother teased him for eating so much, as when his mother shot him a disapproving look for taking an extra slice of cake. As when he got rude glances from friends for piling on an extra serving, not stopping to wipe his mouth. Just him, mannerless, disgusting, worthless. He wept into his messy hands. Nothing more than a sick, sad little glutton.

"Castor, what's the matter?" She pushed a lock of hair out of his face. She didn't sound condemning, but was truly concerned. Something about it made him cry harder. "Come, let's clean you up."

She ducked away to the bathroom and brought him a wet washcloth, wiping off his face, hands, and neck. She helped him change his shirt into a fresh, clean one, and replaced the messy quilt. The dirty dishes were taken and put in the sink, and she returned to his side to comfort him.

He wept into his sleeve, unable to bear her pity. She was disappointed in him, he thought. She must hate him. Poor, broken boy, couldn't control himself, needing to be watched all day and night like a misbehaving pet.

She sighed. "Don't cry. Shh, it's okay. What's wrong? Got too hungry? I promise I'm not mad at you."

He shivered and answered with more sobs, covering his face. Salty tears washed away the sweetness on his tongue.

"You know you shouldn't be eating fruit or milk, things like that. I'm worried it'll mess with you after you haven't been eating for so long." She gently peeled away his hands from his round red eyes. "It's not your fault, dear," she whispered. "You're hungry. Almost too much to bear, right?"

He nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. She offered him a tissue from his bedside.

"Don't blame yourself. I should've known, should've fed you more. I made you wait for your breakfast when I knew you were so desperate. I'm sorry, honey."

Her tone was sincere and tender. He knew she truly cared for him, forgave him. It reminded him of his mother soothing him to sleep when he was ill. He sniffled and wiped his eyes again.

He then seized up. Pain tore through his middle. He grabbed at his stomach, suffering through a wave of hurt that left him dizzy. The amount of food he had eaten was stretching his small stomach, not used to eating more than a mouthful at a time. It cramped and twisted, unable to digest the fruit and milk and sugar. How sweet it had been on his tongue, and how horribly sour it felt now!

Aina had turned away for a moment, beginning to put away the laundry. "Is your stomach okay? I'm afraid you might not do well with the milk-"

He squirmed and grunted, prompting her to look over. She dropped the dress she was holding and rushed to be next to him.

"Shh, that's it. Breathe through it." His thin, pale frame was shivering. He felt like he might be ripped apart from the inside. Every wave was worse than the last. Punishment, he felt, for his greediness and lack of self control. He deserved to suffer this badly.

She stayed by him, shushing him, stroking his hair to calm him. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, once he was able to speak before the gnawing ache came back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" A tear fell down his cheek. He whimpered as his stomach churned. "I shouldn't have done that..."

Pressure was quickly building behind his throat. He felt bloated and his stomach bulged from his skinny body. He put a hand to his mouth, trying to breathe through the nausea. It was getting harder to take a deep breath.

He managed to whimper a plea for help, and Aina grabbed a basin for him. She helped to sit him up and place it in his arms, where he held on with shaking hands. He didn't want to throw up, not with his raspy throat and still-healing ribs. But it might be the only thing that could make him feel better.

He caught his breath in between cramps, an unsettling warmth still burning in his belly. Aina was rubbing his back in small circles and stroking his hair, making sure he could hold himself upright.

He doubled over again with pain and puked up a thin stream of bile. He spit and washed his mouth of the alkaline taste with a sip of water. The acid burned up his raw throat. Then, finally, he heaved and brought up a wave of smashed fruit, sickly and cloying in his throat, rotten and putrid. The smell alone made him gag even more. He brought up the pulp and skins and juice, the heavy, rich syrup and porridge, the milk. His ribs were bending and bruising, and his abdomen was already aching with the exertion, unused to working so hard. The forcefulness of the vomiting left him powerless. It was only after everything had come up that he could lay back, barely staying conscious, still dry heaving into a towel.

Aina quickly washed out the basin and brought him a clean cloth, wiping his face for him. She rinsed his mouth with water and gave him a few sips, just about a spoonful at a time, so he wouldn't dehydrate. The cool touch of her fingers on his pounding head was a welcome respite. His whole body was hurting so badly he lie completely still in hopes that the pain would pass.

"Poor thing," Aina cooed, wrapping a soft hand under his neck. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I know how horrid it must feel to be put in that much pain again." She lifted the glass of water and fed him another sip.

"It's my fault," he said shakily. "I'm too greedy."

"Dear, you were starved for months. Your body wants - needs - to eat." She smiled, cupping his cheek. "Now at least I know you're getting your appetite back. You're starting to feel better, even if today you were a little sick."

He nodded, rolling to his side. Her words made him feel a little better, even if he still hated what he'd done. Aina tucked him in to his shoulders and patted his head. He felt safe around her, taken care of, finally being able to trust that she wouldn't hurt him. For all that time the only touch he knew was cold, painful, meant only to harm. Now he found himself leaning into her gentle hands, content. His body was still hurting, stomach sore from overexertion. But he knew he was safe. That he was loved.

Before he knew it he had fallen fast asleep, napping as the sun rose.

#emeto #sickfic #overeating #vomiting #puke #whump #hurt care #h/c #caretaking #caretaker #my ocs #recovery #starvation

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years

Text

Sneaky - Brendon Urie x Reader

Request: Hey I know it’s a sensitive topic but I was wondering if you’d write something with Brendon Urie where he notices the reader is t really eating and he just tries really hard to be there for her and gets her to eat without really bringing it up. Because everybody relapses sometimes and I think it’d be much easier to get through with someone like him around to help out.

Warnings: eating disorder, alcohol

Word count: 3 109

A/N: Apart from my (luckily only) short trip into eating disorders, I don’t know very much about it. If anyone feels like I made some mistakes, or glorify it in any way, it would be great if you message me so I can change things.

You stood in front of your fridge and scanned the opportunities you had for breakfast. Yoghurt, maybe with some muesli, or rather some fruit? How about cornflakes with milk? Or toast with strawberry jam?

You thought about each option shortly before closing the door to the fridge again, feeling sick. The mere thought of each of the foods made you feel uncomfortable, and a bad taste started to spread in your mouth, down your throat. Maybe you would have lunch later.

Your good resolution of going for lunch was killed by the unattractive menu of the Mensa, and dinner fell victim to the thought that you were not hungry. Your stomach was of a different opinion, but you ignored the grumbling and instead continued working, while the nagging voice in the back of your head started reminding you that your eating-behavior over the day was anything but health.

Much too his concern Brendon soon noticed you skipping out on lunch, and more and more often also on the weekly visit to the pub that your group of friends did every Friday night. What definitely did not sooth his worries either was the weight loss which it did not take him long to notice. And so he started to investigate as carefully as possible. He asked you what you usually ate for breakfast, claiming he was looking for a change in his usual routine and needed some inspiration. Your stuttered answer immediately gave away that you were lying when you told him you ate yoghurt and muesli.

Slowly he started to realize that you really barely ate anything, and that was when he decided that he had to act. His concern for you did not come out of the blue, since he knew you had had troubles with eating disorders before, and that he was totally and head over heels in love with you only encouraged him to make sure you would look after yourself better.

“Cookie?”

You looked up from the monitor on which you were proof reading a letter, and were met with the big, brown eyes of Brendon who held a tin box with deliciously smelling chocolate cookies.

“Ahm,” you hesitated, your fingers still resting on the keys which you had used to scroll down the page.

“They’re really good,” Brendon insisted, shoving the box further towards you.

The part of your mind that constantly kept you from eating, started reminding you of how much fat and sugar and other unhealthy ingredients were in the baked goods, but the tiny voice in the back of your head, the one that still screamed and protested each time you skipped a meal, started slobbering.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you smiled, hoping Brendon would accept your refusal, and leave before you got weak.

“You sure? They’re still warm,” he tempted, and took one of the cookies from the box, biting into it. A few crumbs fell off the cookie and to the dark carpet that was fitted into the office room.

Before you could even think about it, the tiny voice and its slobbering had taken over.

“Okay, fine. Thank you,” you smiled and reached into the box for a cookie.

“Take a few more, I’ve got enough,” Brendon encouraged.

Hesitantly you took a second, and when Brendon just looked at you expectantly, and pushed the box even closer to your keyboard, you took a third cookie.

“I’m gonna leave this here, so just take one whenever you want.”

You nodded and watched as Brendon put the box between the computer monitors that stood back to back on the same desk, before he wandered around it and took seat behind his computer again; sending you a dazzling smile as you quickly glanced over at him.

A part of you hated to admit it, but the cookies were heavenly delicious. They were sweet, but not too sweet, crunchy, and still a little chewy and just the perfect amount of chocolaty. Amused Brendon watched how time after time your hand reached into the box, and took out another cookie. He had no idea if or how much you had eaten anything else today, but at least you had eaten a dozen cookies.

Brendon had hundreds of ideas how to get you to eat something, but while about half of them included him asking you out, he also had to remind himself to do things slowly. He did not want you to realize that he was trying to make you eat, in fear that you would shut him out completely after that. So he waited until the next week before he brought something to eat into the office again.

The smell of warm pretzels filled your nose as Brendon pulled out a bag from the bakery down the street. He noticed your glance at the paper bag he was holding (as if he had waited for it) and raised his eyebrows.

“Butter pretzel?”

You pressed your lips together, as every time you were faced with the opportunity of food, but once again the tiny, hungry voice in the back of your head took over, and you nodded. Brendon grinned to himself, making sure to hide that behind his monitor though, as he watched you munch on the buttered lye pastry.

The week after that he brought homemade fruit salad, the week after that little sandwiches, and then hummus with pita bread, pasta salad, crackers with cedar, and bagles with cream cheese. Every time he was afraid you would refuse, but somehow, you always agreed to take some of his food, even when you joked you would have to start paying him.

“Hey, ahm (y/n)…”

You looked up at Brendon who was standing by your table, his jacket thrown over his shoulder.

“Would you… I mean, would you like to go to lunch with me,” he asked.

You felt your cheeks redden at the question, and your heart started beating faster.

“I- sorry Brendon, I got an appointment in ten minutes. I- would it be okay if we went for dinner instead?”

Brendon stared at you, not properly understanding what you were talking about.

“I really- it’s not like I don’t want to go to lunch with you,” you continued, “I just can’t cancel on this customer…”

Brendon nodded, slowly beginning to understand. He had only asked if you wanted to go to lunch with him because all the other colleagues you usually went to lunch with were on seminar, but you seemed to have understood his question as an invitation to a date, which honestly he could not take any offense at, considering how much he had stuttered. Also you understanding this as him asking you out, had spared him the trouble of having to worry about it, and you even said yes. To dinner even!

“It’s fine, I totally understand,” Brendon nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. Him not having to worry about asking you out also meant he had not made any plans for how to do it, or what to suggest for going out. “If you like we could go to that little Indian place down by the park.”

You nodded, smiling brightly. “That sounds fantastic, how about eight?”

“Perfect, eight it is.”

Brendon turned around and walked away, unable to keep his wide grin under control. He had accidently asked you out, and you had said yes. He was actually going to go on a date with you.

You watched Brendon walk away, before you turned back to your work, replaying the conversation in your head. Suddenly you froze. Brendon had not asked you out, he had just wanted to go for lunch, nothing more. Shit. Just because you were falling for your caring coworker more and more every day, you had totally misinterpreted his question. You wanted to crawl under a stone, and hide from the world and especially Brendon. But then again he had not disagreed on the dinner suggestion, so that had to mean something right? If only you had not embarrassed yourself in front of him like that…

~*~

Brendon only realized how bold he had been to invite someone who was … picky… with food anyway to a place where it was expected to consume food when he was sitting at the tiny table at the restaurant, waiting for you. He was already starting to worry you might not come, even though it was ten to eight, and at the same time his hands were sweaty. The waiter smiled at him encouragingly, and ensured him you would come when Brendon nervously told the young man that he was waiting for his date. Brendon nodded with a dry throat, and had just turned to check the clock again as you stepped through the door. His breath hitched as he saw you, and he was absolutely certain you had never looked more beautiful than the moment you spotted him across the room and smiled at him.

Brendon had been prepared for almost anything. He had been prepared for you not wanting to eat or drink anything or only little, he had been prepared for you going to the bathroom soon after you had finished eating, where you might get rid of the freshly consumed dinner, he had been prepared for you being awkward around him or even you getting angry at something he might say, but none of this happened. He could not say that he was disappointed, far from it actually, that the evening was playing out like a cliché romance novel. Together you chatted lightly while you enjoyed soup as a starter, you talked and laughed about childhood memories during the delicious main dish, and debated scores of old movies over a sweet desert, which you were sharing. There were no suspicious toilet breaks, no mention of your usually strange eating habits, and no awkwardness at all. Brendon was more than happy at that, and so were you. You were thankful that he did not mention anything, even though you had the strong feeling the only reason he had provided you with occasional food over the last weeks was because he had noticed your eating problems.

“So… wanna do this again some time?”

Brendon and you were standing in front of the little restaurant you had just left. You had your hands in your coat pocket to keep them protected from the cold winter air.

“I’d love to,” you smiled and watched how Brendon’s expression relaxed at your answer.

“Great, amazing, I mean- how about Saturday?”

~*~

It got your new habit, going out with Brendon every Wednesday and Saturday evening. Sometimes you went to little restaurants all over town, to bars or exotic street food shops, and every time you noticed how much easier it was to eat when Brendon was around and distracted you.

“I thought you could come over to my place tomorrow,” he suggested, leaning against your desk while you swiveled around in your office chair.

You stopped the swiveling and looked up at him. You had never been at his place, nor had he been at yours and it seemed like a big step to actually get to see how he lived.

“Sure, why not,” you answered, pretending to be far less nervous about his invitation that you actually were.

“I thought I could cook for us, make something special,” Brendon explained, hooking his foot under one of the rolls of your chair and pulling it closer.

“In other words, you’re trying to poison me,” you joked.

“Hey, I can cook,” Brendon complained, but he laughed at the same time.

~*~

Brendon had spent the whole Saturday preparing for your date that evening. The flat he lived in was perfectly cleaned, a vase with flowers placed as a centerpiece on the dining table and now a Frank Sinatra vinyl was quietly playing in the background. He quickly checked everything over, making sure he had forgotten nothing. The vegetables and fruit that were resting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be made into a complicated meal, had been bought on the farmers market just this morning, and so had been the dairy products and the herbs. Every surface had been dusted, the floor vacuumed and Brendon himself had showered, shaved and put on his favorite elegant, but homey clothes.

It was exactly eight o’clock when the doorbell rang. You had been a little early, but waited in front of the house until it was eight, not wanting to be early in case Brendon was not ready yet. You were a little surprised at the simple elegance of his flat, having expected a little bit more of a mess, considering the state of his desk at the office. He helped you take off your coat, and led you into the kitchen where you presented the bottle of wine to him that you had brought as a gift. He grinned and fetched two glasses, which he filled with the red liquid. You clinked glasses, and he started cooking. You offered to help, but he insisted you should sit on the counter, and let him do the work.

You were not really complaining. In fact, sitting on the kitchen counter, sipping wine and watching Brendon cook was something you could definitely get used to. You examined each and every movement Brendon did closely, secretly marveling at the way his muscles worked under his shirt, the way his eyes glimmered in concentration, or how his hair sometimes dangled into his eyes.

You did not talk much while Brendon was busy cooking. For one you did not want to distract him from the work he was so obviously concentrated on, but you were also glad that you got to watch him in peace. When he had asked you out the first time, or rather you him, you had not been sure if what you were feeling for him was really enough to base a relationship on, but lately you found yourself thinking of him more and more often. Maybe it was the way he always cared for you, always checked if you were fine, if you needed something. Maybe it was the way he respected your privacy and the fact that there were topics you felt not comfortable talking about.

It did not take Brendon long to conjure an amazing meal, and while he finished seasoning the fried vegetables, you chose another vinyl to listen to, after the Frank Sinatra one had ended playing.

The table was kept simple but appealing. The long-stemmed vase in which Brendon had put a simple arrangement of purple Gerberas bedded in white Baby’s-Breath was made of milky white glass and matching purple candles were held in clear, cylindrical glasses. Brendon had turned down the light over the table slightly to make the atmosphere a little cozier. At the same time the flames of the candles got better visible, and all of a sudden you felt like this was an actually serious date, which made you all jittery again.

When Brendon had said he knew how to cook, he had definitely not lied. The food was delicious, probably among the best things you had ever eaten, and you made sure to let him know that. He grinned wider with each compliment, and you almost felt challenged to get him to grin even more. You would never get enough of this sunshine grin.

You had finished your second plate of the main dish, and Brendon once again asked if you wanted another helping.

“Are you trying to stuff me,” you asked jokingly, carefully dipping your mouth off with a serviette.

When Brendon did not immediately answer, you looked over to him, noticing his guilty expression.

His eyes met yours for a moment before he turned away, head hanging low, biting his lip nervously.

“I didn’t mean to-“

“I know it’s none of my business,” he interrupted you. “but I noticed how you lost weight and how you never ate anything, and… I was so worried and I know I’m overstepping my boundaries, did from the beginning on, but I just didn’t want you to… get sick, like so seriously. I just tried to look after you, which is creepy and weird considering we didn’t really know each other, but I… I just care so much about you- “

You quietly got up from your chair and walked over to Brendon’s side of the table. He looked up at you, his face full of concern and fear of rejection.

“It’s okay,” you told him, gently taking his face in your hands. “It’s okay, Brendon, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. Actually… I wanted to thank you. For helping me, looking out for me, and not making it a big thing.”

Brendon swallowed hard and blinked rapidly a few times. You knelt down in front of his chair, now the one to look up at him and continued.

“I’ve had problems before, and everyone relapses sometimes. It’s a thing that happens, but it’s not the end of the world, not if there is someone around who notices and is willing to help. And you were around, and you did help. God, I don’t know where I’d be without you right now, but definitely not in such a good place.”

Brendon nodded and subconsciously reached to brush a strand out of your forehead. You smiled at that gesture, and gave him a moment to collect his thoughts.

“You’re not mad that I meddled in your life?”

“On the contrary, I’m actually really happy you did,” you smiled.

Brendon was still staring down at you, his thoughts running a thousand miles an hour, while your mind was suddenly blank, and your body moved on its own as you leant up, and pressed your lips against his.

Surprised Brendon pulled in air before he relaxed into the touch, and wrapped an arm around your neck, holding you close. When you felt him smile into the kiss, you smiled as well, and pulled away to look at him. The worried expression had given way to a, once again, bright grin.

“Well, so am I,” he confessed, making you laugh lightly before you kissed him again quickly.

“I saw that there is desert in the fridge,” you hinted, remembering the enticing looking panacotta Brendon had made.

“Indeed there is,” Brendon chuckled and got up, pulling you to your feet as well, “Are you implying you want something of it?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a sly smile.

“Hm, let’s see what we can do there,” Brendon laughed and walked back into the kitchen, holding your hand, “but maybe you’ll also have to bribe me with some more of your kisses first.”

#brendon urie x reader #brendon urie fluff #brendon urie x reader fluff #brendon urie #fluff #fluffy #cute #eating disoder tw #trigger warning #fanfiction #fanfic #mental health

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melonmork · 6 years

Text

this is home

in which yukhei works at his parent’s bakery in the town where you spend your summer~ 💕💫💛💖

~the best part of spending the summer in your parent’s home town is the accessibility of everything due to walking and biking trails that connect almost every neighborhood, store, and of course the downtown area

~you’d been spending summers here for a long time, longer than you can remember

~you love taking walks in the warm summer air, watching the birds flying in flocks over head, smelling the breeze that carries the perfume of flowers in bloom, and listening to children’s laughter like a song in the afternoon daze

~and now, this summer seems auspicious already; you arrive at your grandparents’ home just as the setting sun paints the sky brilliant shades of golden yellow and deep orange, and you fall asleep soon thereafter thinking about where you will venture to tomorrow

~mornings here are your favorite, because nearly every morning, like this one, you wake up to a simple melody sung by a bird right near your open window, and the sunlight in your eyes welcomes you back

~this year more than ever before, you feel a sense of home, and the thought lingers through breakfast and even as you say farewell to your family and set out to see what’s new in town

~yes, you think, i’ll go into town today and see what all is there, see if there’s anything new

~you walk leisurely through the paths, sometimes through woody areas teeming with wildflowers, squirrels, and butterflies, and sometimes through a quaint neighborhood with bikes strewn haphazardly on driveways, or an old man reading a book on his porch, enjoying the fresh morning air just like you

~after a relaxing half hour walk, you arrive in the downtown area, welcomed by the familiar scents of street food and the sound of soft, upbeat jazz tunes coming from shops surrounding the blocks

~the thought and feeling of home reoccurs to you instantaneously, and your heart feels a bit giddy at the sentiment. even though you don’t really live here for most of the year, you certainly feel a sense of belonging, and you can’t help but smile at the familiarity of everything in front of you

~you make your way comfortably through the area, recognizing each store and almost every street vendor, save for a few

~the smells tempt you every time you get a whiff of them; you ate a rather big breakfast, but that was nearly an hour ago now, and besides… how does that saying go? oh yeah! “when in rome…”

~so you continue down the street, turning here and there and making your way to your favorite cafe in the area, eager to taste that amazing lemon poppy seed muffin again

~but while you’re on your way, you have to do a double take, because something’s different…

~to your surprise, a local bakery had taken place of the small pottery shop you used to look through often

~your heart falls at first, upset to see that the pottery shop is no longer there, but your stomach wins over your heart after you get a whiff of the pastries and breads inside the new bakery

~you hesitate for a moment, not completely willing to give up on your quest for that divine lemon poppy seed muffin, but you figure it will be there later, and it’s always good to try something new, so you enter into the bakery

~and good lord does it smell heavenly in there

~and it’s not only the smell, but the ambiance of the bakery that enchants you

~the walls are a light yellow, the color of honeysuckles, and small vases with pink roses complemented by baby’s breath grace each little cafe table

~small speakers on the ceiling play soft accoustic tunes accompanied by charming lyrics

~the glass door and the multiple windows let in a cozy amount of sunlight, completing the comfortable atmosphere, and you decide that you aren’t upset anymore at the disappearance of the pottery shop

~nor are a lot of people in the area, either, apparent by the considerable line of people waiting to order a fresh pastry, or maybe a latte

~so you make your way to the end of the line and admire the decorations, the cute light bulbs hanging from the ceiling joining with the sunlight to illuminate everything in the cafe warmly and softly

~framed paintings of fruit bowls, loaves of bread, and people picnicking hang on the honeysuckle walls, and you look at each painting as you wait in line, slowly moving forward

~you’re close to the counter when you find yourself standing in front of a large wicker board covered in photographs which, as you inspect them, seem to be all of the same family

~in most of the photographs, the family is in a small kitchen, kneading dough or stirring something in a bowl or peering into a retro-looking oven

~there are a few photos of the same young boy, who in some photos wears a cheesy grin that lights up his whole face, and in others feeds his mother some sort of baked treat of his own childish creation, opening his own mouth as he feeds the treat to his mother, who looks at him fondly

~the odd photo out is the one of that same boy wearing a high school uniform, holding a diploma and standing in between his parents, wearing that same bright smile but looking much more handsome, and naturally so; in the photo, he is tall and seems mature, and you think he must be around your age in the picture

~you gather that this family of three-the mother, the father, and the son-is the family that opened this bakery here

~the line moves forward, and so must you, so you reluctantly remove your gaze from the photos and shuffle forward until you’re standing in front of the display of pastries, cakes, and sandwiches, all of which make your tummy growl on sight

~it’s so hard to decide because everything looks so absolutely delicious, and your heart (and tummy) is torn between the chocolate croissant and cinnamon bagel

~which you unfortunately do not have the time to choose between before it’s your turn to order at the register

~the same woman from the photos you were looking at earlier stands behind the register, wearing the same pretty smile as in the photos, her face a little more lined than back then but no less beautiful, and you can’t help but smile back at her motherly appearance

~“what can i get for you, darling?” she asks kindly, her smile genuine and inviting

~“well…” you start, but then stop, because you still havent decided between the croissant and the bagel and you’re really too torn between the two to make a decision on the spot

~someone behind you clears their throat in an attempt to express their impatience, and you pick up on the hint and try to hurry yourself

~suddenly, the son from the photos appears behind the mother and leans his hip against the counter and says, “if it’s pastries you’re interested in, i recommend the chocolate croissant! it’s not too heavy and it’s got just the right amount of chocolate. plus, i made them this morning, so they’re especially good today!” he gives you a big smile, the same one as in the photos, and then pushes back from the counter and busies himself again near the coffee grinding machines

~that’s pretty much an inarguable omen, you decide, so you tell the nice lady that you’ll have a chocolate croissant and a chai latte and then make your way to one of the two person tables near the windows with your order number

~as you sit there enjoying the sunlight, you think about the son, who you suppose you were right about regarding age.. he looks to be fairly young, maybe just barely an adult

~what shocked you, though, was the depth of his voice… somehow, it differed so starkly from the brightness of his smile, and you couldn’t help but think of it as attractive

~as you wait, your mind wanders to other topics, like the swimming lake not too far from your grandparents’ house, and the mangos you plan to buy tomorrow morning at the local produce market near the residential area of town

~your mango daydreams are interrupted by the smiley boy, who surprises you as he places your mug and croissant gingerly in front of you

~and he surprises you further by sitting down across from you and starting a conversation

~“are you new in town? i havent seen you come in the bakery before” his question is amiable and he raises his eyebrows innocently, and you cant help but notice how absolutely brown his eyes are…. they’re lovely

~“oh! not really, i spend every summer here with my grandparents, and i got here just yesterday!” you respond, giving him a smile and stirring your latte as a means to busy yourself

~“ahhh, cool! well, i hope to see you in here a lot this summer! my name is yukhei, by the way. enjoy your croissant!” he smiles warmly at you and then pushes in his chair and leaves, returning your goodbye wave before going back to the counter

~and throughout the rest of the morning, even while you eat your delicious croissant, you can’t rid yourself of the soft smile and the flush that lingers on your face and in your heart, all just because the smiley boy, yukhei, took a little time to meet you

~he probably introduces himself to all the new customers who dine in, you think, and the thought finally removes the blush and soft smile at his actions

~two mornings later you return to the bakery, this time for bread as well as breakfast

~you come a lot earlier than your first visit, so only a few other people are in the cafe, and there’s no one in line

~so you walk up to the register and order two loaves of bread and a muffin from yukhei’s mother, then sit down with your number at the same table and you doze off as you look at the flowers in the vase, still sleepy from having not rested well the previous night

~you snap out of your doze at the sound of a plate being set down in front of you, and your tired eyes look up to see yukhei, his face sleepy like your own, too

~he’s smiling sheepishly at you and he apologizes for waking you up and you tell him it’s okay, dont worry!! but he still apologizes again

~and this time he asks, “is it okay if i sit here for a minute?”, motioning toward the chair across from you

~“of course!” so he seats himself and leans his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his palms

~“i felt bad that i never asked your name,” he begins, “so im glad you came back in… i thought i might not see you again…” he hesitates saying the last part, smiling shyly and slowly moving one hand to rest behind his neck

~you tell him your name and smile shyly too

~“wow! pretty name!” he gives you a big smile, the one from two days ago and the one from the photos, and it makes your heart skip a little beat, because u are quite sure you’ve never seen a smile so pure and radiant on a boy so tall and alluring

~“thank you, yukhei,” and he smiles and leans his chin back into the palm of his hand, and there’s a moment of comfortable silence where the pale early morning sunlight shines on his fluffy hair, his pretty big nose, his shapely lips and his cute eye bags, and you take all of his beauty in

~“there aren’t a lot of young people here,” yukhei says, “so i was so excited when i saw you… no offense to the older people” he laughs and runs a hand through his hair, making it even fluffier and messier, and you laugh with him

~“yeah, most of the people our age have moved out of town, huh?”

~you and yukhei spend fifteen or so minutes talking about the town and what you like about it, getting excited when the other person mentions a place you’re both familiar with

~his mom eventually calls him back to the register once more customers start filing in, and he lingers a moment, still laughing at something you said, before getting up and pushing his chair in… but he hesitates there for a moment, and then says, “i’ll see you tomorrow morning?” with a cute, hopeful expression, and of course you can’t say no to yukhei’s big brown eyes, so you laugh and tell him that you’ll see him tomorrow morning

~and you do see him the next morning

~and the morning after that

~and for the next month, you go to the bakery to see him at least five mornings a week, spending fifteen (or thirty, if his mom is feeling extra sweet) minutes with him talking about your lives, about your own home towns, about the swimming lake

~yukhei tells you about how much he loves baking, how it’s so fun to knead dough and the outcome is so rewarding, how icing cakes is meticulous and exciting as well as frustrating, how baking muffins and cookies is easy and fun

~one morning about a month after you two became friends, yukhei perks up from where he was taking a little nap on the table and practically yells “I FORGOT TO BAKE THE PUMPKIN MUFFINS!!” and you’re like dude????? what should you do? and hes like come on, come help me bake them quickly so my parents dont get mad

~he quickly gets up from the table and grabs your hand in his own, leading you quickly behind the counter and back into the kitchen

~he grabs two aprons from a coat rack on the wall and hands you one, then puts on and ties his own in a few seconds while you’re still standing there confused

~“are you sure it’s okay for me to be back here?” you ask, a bit apprehensive even if yukhei is the son of the owners

~“eyyy, of course. want me to tie that for you?” he gestures toward your apron, and you stutter out a “sure” and hand him the apron

~he was in such a rush a second ago when he tied his own, but this time he’s meticulous, standing close to you and draping the apron carefully over your head, then gently placing his hands on your shoulders to turn you around

~his long fingers quickly tie a bow with the apron strings behind your back, and he mumbles a soft apology when his fingers graze against your back

~the intimate moment is over as soon as it started as yukhei quickly guides you over to a metal countertop and asks you to grab a bowl and a whisk while he prepares the ingredients

~yukhei works surprisingly silently, adeptly and precisely measuring each ingredient and asking you to pour them into the bowl in a specific order as he mixes

~in not ten minutes, you and yukhei finish the prep and put the muffin pan in the oven, then let out a simultaneous sigh and lean back against the counter

~and then you hear yukhei let out a low chuckle

~you look over to find him smiling at you, shaking his head slightly and still chuckling

~“what??” you ask through your own giggling… you can’t help it, his smile and his laughter are just so contagious

~“you’ve got flour all over your apron, and some even in your hair! how did you manage that~” he teases, with nothing but kindness and laughter in his tone, and you look down at yourself and laugh too, because u really did manage to get flour all over yourself

~“here, hold still.” yukhei leans the arm closest to you on the area of the counter directly behind you, then leans in and narrows his eyes, looking at your hair

~you’ve tried so hard not to develop a crush on him throughout the past month because you’ll have to go away in two months anyway and you don’t want to deal with the heartache

~but he makes it so hard even when he’s just sitting across from you talking about how he stubbed his toe on a desk chair right after he woke up that morning, so how, in moments like this one, are you supposed to not fall … hard… for him?

~honestly

~he focuses on gently brushing the flour out of your hair, and while doing so he absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip

~your attention, naturally, is drawn there, and you wonder what his lips taste like

~pumpkin muffins? sugar? coffee? chocolate croissant? cocoa, or maybe even fruit? maybe they taste like those mangoes from the street vendor right outside…

~your attention is drawn away from the taste of his lips (to your dismay) as he leans back and inspects your hair from a further distance away, no longer chewing on his bottom lip (which is now pinker than before, and it makes ur heart beat faster)

~“okayyyyy much better” he says, making finger guns and shooting them at you (complete with “pew pew” sound effects bc this is yukhei)

~you laugh at his silliness and try to laugh off the racing of your heart too, which doesnt work as well as you had hoped

~especially since yukhei, with your permission, is untying your apron and removing it from around your neck, this time not mumbling an apology when his fingers graze your back and the nape of your neck

~yukhei turns to you after hanging up the aprons and thinks for a second before speaking

~“i have tomorrow off” he says, and you nod, listening

~“would you… er, could we hang out?” his hand goes to rub the back of his neck and you internally thank the heavens for it because his arm always looks so good from your angle

~“sure! i was planning on getting some mangoes tomorrow morning from the vendor just outside. should we meet there at the normal time?” you ask, surprised by your own confidence and simultaneously excited at the opportunity to spend a whole day with yukhei

~“yeah! yes! yeah man let’s do it!” his eyes light up and he holds his hands up for you to high five them, and when you do, he briefly tangles his fingers with your own and holds your hands in the air

~and for a moment you’re just holding hands with him and both of you are laughing

~he holds eye contact with you as you let your hands drop and he’s still got his cute grin on his face and his hair is messy and floofy and your tummy is doing somersaults

~that confidence you had just a minute ago??? she is Gone and now you’re standing there kind of nervously, looking a little too often at your fidgeting hands between stealing glaces at yukhei’s pretty features

~you don’t know what else to do or say and yukhei is literally just standing there smiling at you and he’s so close and you feel like something is going to happen and you’re not sure if you’re ready for that so you quickly say that you should get going

~he opens his mouth in an O and after a moment he’s like “oh, yeah, okay” and he becomes a bit awkward too and after a second of standing there quietly, he opens his arms for a hug and smiles shyly at you

~so of course you oblige, wrapping your arms around his surprisingly strong waist and his big hands rest gently on your back

~then you pull away and say goodbye and he walks you out of the kitchen and waves at you as you leave the bakery, still waving even when you’ve turned around and left

~and then he remembers the muffins

~the timer goes off just as you leave the bakery, and he doesn’t hesitate a second, sprinting into the kitchen to take the muffins out of the oven, fumbling to get a muffin out of the pan without burning himself, and snagging a paper bag as he sprints out of the bakery to catch up to you

~you’re just taking your time walking through the street on your way back home when you hear someone yelling your name and all of the people around you turn their heads too, wondering what all this commotion is

~you stop walking and look around, startled until you see yukhei running toward you, his hair going every which way in the breeze and he’s weaving through everyone quickly

~when he comes to a clumsy stop in front of you, he’s panting and he has to lean down and rest his hands on his knees for a second before standing back up and huffing “you forgot… a muffin!” then he smiles and laughs loudly and hands you a paper bag, crumpled from where he was holding it

~you laugh from shock, still startled but so fond as you look at him, panting, his whole face lit up by his unabashed smile

~then, just as quickly as he came, he waves goodbye (after wiggling his eyebrows at you lol) and starts jogging back to the bakery

~”gotta go, my dad’s going to be pissed!” he yells as he weaves through the crowd again

~and you’re left standing there, still taken aback, shaking your head and laughing at the boy who ran after you and ditched his job just to give you a muffin

~it makes you feel special… which yukhei hopes it did!! because you are special to him!!

~and his tummy is fluttering just as much as yours as he runs back to the bakery, sort of proud of himself because he saw the blush in your cheeks and your ears and he saw the way you smiled at him and thinking about it boosts his confidence

~his mood is fantastic for the rest of the day, even after his dad threw a dirty dish rag at him and ruffled his hair for running off

~”yeesh, the things young boys do when they’re in love,” his dad says as he walks out of the kitchen, shaking his head

~in love? yukhei considers those two words all day, finding that they feel and sound write in a sentence with his name and yours, and it makes him grin like a goober at random moments during the day

~you are also grinning randomly all day because u cant stop thinking about his hands holding your back and how nice it would be to run ur fingers through his floofy hair

~and you even think about stealing little kisses, sitting next to him in the grass under the shade of a tree, the wind playing with ur hair and his fingers playing with yours

~that night neither of you sleep very well, and yukhei sets out early to be at the mango vendor because he has too much energy and was getting impatient waiting at home

~on his way into town he picks a bunch of wildflowers, orange and pink and yellow and white, to give to you

~he ends up helping the nice old man who runs the mango stand set up his display and cart and helps him run the stand while he waits for you to arrive

~the old man thinks yukhei is just the greatest young man in town and he gives him a bunch of free mangoes

~so when you arrive a little bit earlier than the agreed time, yukhei quickly bids the nice old man goodbye and walks up to you

~ur cute boy is grinning ear to ear, in one hand holding a bunch of wildflowers that, while still lovely, are beginning to droop, and in another hand he’s got five mangoes

~”hi!” he says, and he tries to wave, but the mangoes just fall out of his hand, and he hangs his head and laughs and you help him pick up the mangoes, taking a few so he doesn’t have to carry them all

~”hey, yukhei,” you respond, smiling back at him and giggling at how excited he seems

~”these are for you!” he hands you the flowers and u laugh again and thank him, telling him that they’re beautiful

~”just like you~” he says, and then he looks down at his feet before looking at you again, embarrassed by his own flirting, but proud of himself because of it too

~you thank him shyly and then you two are on your way, walking down the street, making light conversation about the summer, about the morning songbirds, about all of the street vendors; you laugh at his silly jokes and exclamations and he listens eagerly to your stories about here and about home, laughing at your jokes, too, even when they’re kind of lame :’-)

~eventually you find a bench in a park and you sit next to him, pulling out a bagel sandwich that you cut in half for you two to eat for breakfast, and you eat together, content to just be there in each other’s presence, even when the conversation lulls

~the day is so beautiful: a few fast moving white clouds grace the blue sky, songbirds speak with each other pleasantly from the trees all around, and the soft breeze moves through the park, dancing with the flowers and the grass and the trees, cooling you down and bringing you the subtle scent of the summer morning

~you mention it to yukhei, and he nods in agreement, admiring the lovely morning in the park, pointing out pretty views and cute dogs passing by

~and then he turns to you and looks at you with the same admiration, as if he’s beholding the loveliest sight he’s ever laid his eyes upon

~in fact, that’s exactly the thought going through his head

~and he’s also thinking that he has to tell you today because he doesn’t want to waste any more of the summer without you knowing how he feels

~he stands up, holds a hand out to you, smiles, and tells you to come with him, so you take his hand tentatively and follow his lead

~he walks you across the park, not saying anything, but as he walks he intertwines his fingers in yours and holds your hand tightly, as if he might lose you in a moment

~finally you reach the edge of the park where the grass meets the swimming lake you often visit, but he continues walking, entering a slightly wooded area, making sure you don’t trip on roots or stumps

~when you ask him where you’re going, he just smiles softly and says “you’ll see”

~eventually you reach a small clearing at the edge of the woods; the sun shines onto the little patch of forest, wildflowers like the ones you’re holding surrounding the grassy clearing

~it sits right on the edge of the lake, and your breath hitches in your throat because it’s so beautiful

~yukhei lets go of your hand and walks into the clearing, then turns to face you, smiling, pleased by your reaction

~finally, you manage to say that it’s beautiful, and yukhei nods and takes a deep breath and then rubs the back of his neck

~”i’ve wanted to bring you here for a while now,” he says, and he faces the lake now, watching the dazzling sunlight reflect on the water. “i’m glad you like it.” his voice sounds a little more serious than usual, and you’re a little worried because his smile has faded and he’s watching the water so intently

~you decide not to question him though; you walk over and stand by him and look out at the water too, recognizing points of reference from a different vantage point now

~you’re still admiring the view when he turns to you and abruptly says “i like you. a lot” and then he sighs again and looks back out at the water

~for some reason he thinks you’ll tell him that it won’t work, that you can’t be with him because you live somewhere else, that you aren’t into him like that, so he feels sad and a bit deflated

~until you say “i like you a lot too”

~he’s like “okay, i understand.” cause he wasnt expecting you to say that to him so upfront

~and then a second later his face lights up and he turns to you, his playful, excited grin returning to his face, and he says “wait, seriously??! oh my god! wow!” hes laughing that cute laugh of his and he opens his arms again for a hug, this time not gentle at all as he holds you tightly against his chest and happily sways back and forth, still laughing, burying his uncontrollable smile in your hair

~you’re laughing with him, also hiding your smile against his neck

~he smells like cinnamon and sugar and clean laundry and… home

~home, you find yourself thinking again, this is what home feels like.

~after the bear hug, yukhei takes a mango from his pocket (yes he was keeping mangoes in his pockets) and he also takes a little pocket knife from his pocket and adeptly cuts up a mango, giving you one half to eat, and when you finish eating your half, he gives you the stone to eat the fruit off of too

~yukhei when he gives you the stone: “im only giving this to you because you’re so special to me~”

~you: “oh hush,,” but you’re blushing and u have to look the other way because you don’t want him to see how big you’re smiling

~your attempt is futile though, because he definitely notices and it makes him smile even bigger

~after you two finish the mango, yukhei lays back in the grass and puts his arms behind his head and you watch him, openly admiring his arms and chest and his profile, and when he sees you looking at him he smiles and makes a silly face to make you laugh

~a few minutes pass, you sitting beside him, propped up by your arms with your legs out in front of you, both of you just enjoying the peaceful and beautiful day

~then yukhei sits up beside you, his shoulder nudging against yours, and he leans his face teasingly close to yours at the very moment you look over at him

~he smiles cheekily and watches your cute shocked face for a minute, shamelessly letting his gaze linger on your lips

~but then he leans back again and you look back out to the water in another futile attempt to hide your smile

~”can i lay my head in your lap?” he asks suddenly

~he really just wants to be close to you all the time and he’s trying so hard not to come off too strong right after he confessed to you

~you smile at him and nod and you think about your daydreams from just yesterday… the ones about his hair… about his lips

~he situates himself so that the back of his head lays on your thighs and he’s looking up at you and you get so shy when he says “you’re beautiful”

~again you try to hide your face, this time holding your hands in front of yourself and smiling widely from embarrassment, butterflies playing around in your tummy

~yukhei’s hands come up to yours and he gently pulls them away from your face, resting one of your hands on his chest and holding it in his own and leading your other hand to his hair

~he closes his eyes, smiling softly as you run your hands through his hair

~it’s even softer and fluffier than you imagined and your heart soars when you see how happy he looks, laying in your lap while you play with his hair and massage his scalp

~you two sit like that for a while, unhurried, enjoying the intimacy with each other which you’ve both been thinking about before falling asleep for the past couple weeks

~and then yukhei slowly sits up and sits criss cross beside you and asks you to face him, so you do, sitting criss cross too

~his expression is still so peaceful and content, his pretty lips curved in a small smile and his big, sleepy eyes fondly looking into your own

~again, his gaze falls to your lips, and he watches them for a moment

~and then he brings a hand up to your jaw, gently cupping your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek slowly and softly

~”can i kiss you?” he asks, his deep voice quiet and each word deliberate, and you can’t even get any words out to respond, you just nod and try not to breathe too fast

~he leans in now, and you watch breathlessly as his lips part every so slowly and then in a moment you’ve closed your eyes and his lips are on yours

~and it’s so so much better than you imagined

~his lips are soft and he tastes like mango and the moment his lips touched yours he let out a low hum that made your whole body flush from head to toe

~the kiss is relaxed and sweet, your lips moving slowly in tandem; it doesn’t last very long, but it’s perfect, and he lets out a little sigh when he pulls away and it makes you feel like you must be in heaven... you must have just kissed an angel

~his thought process is exactly the same

~he leans his forehead against yours and whispers “i’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” and you laugh and say “me too”

~in your head, that same thought repeats over and over again

~this is home, you think as you press another chaste kiss against his lips, this really is home.

i hope you enjoyed this! it's quite long, im sorry, ahhhh! shoutout to my gorl ira for coming up with this concept with me!!! 💐☕️💫🌳🌊🍰

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