#we are holding this shitty society on our fucking shoulders and this is the thanks we get

[saint-gerard-of-arc]

If I have to hear another adult talking about how young people are ALL (not some, or like, the majority, ALL) lazy bastards who can't find a job because they don't want to get their hands dirty or whatever I'm gonna break some fucking kneecaps

#witchy.txt #we are holding this shitty society on our fucking shoulders and this is the thanks we get #fuck. you. fuck the fuck off #va a farti inculare A SANGUE #literally everyone I know my age is either working an underpaid job or is searching desperately for one #but yes obviously those are some rare cases and everyone else is just a junkhead with no future bc they're l A z Y #oh my god I'm so mad y'all can't understand #and when I got out of the room to calm down I even got shit thrown at bc 'I can't handle conflict' apparently #the conflict being this fucking woman yelling at me bc she wanted to be right at all costs generalizing n shit when she should just shut up #like this is not an opinion. it's a fact. the youth is trying to hold this sick system together #and people like her does nothing but spit on that effort #like what was I supposed to do? go for her throat?? yelling insults? I mean I'm a rat but I don't sink so low #fucking hell they always had to be right huh #but on the other hand I will have to get used to this treatment bc when I'll find a job myself they won't be any nicer so #thanks for being so fucking insufferable Susan I consider that as training

[mae-gi-writes]

Purpose of Hearts | Song Mingi (ATEEZ)

Summary: Two lives. One purpose. And a hope that someday, their voices would be heard.

Part of @atbzkingdom's timecapsule collab! Song: Utopia by ATEEZ

Genre: angst, slice of life

A/N: This is a love story but it also revolves around issues of modern society as well as the environmental crises that have been happening lately. I wish to incorporate more of these real-life elements in my stories because that's the only way I can communicate to people the importance of living a life that does not take away what Nature has made for us. So I hope that you guys aren't too harsh on this one, considering I worked really hard to write it. Thank you all. Love, mae xx

>>>

The first time I saw Song Mingi was by accident. I had been late to my interview that day, rushing in and out between my room, the kitchen and the bathroom to get my scrambled self organized, throw on a blazer over my white shirt and black slacks — honestly, had I washed it before?—  while barely managing to shove a toast in my mouth as I ran down my apartment stairs two at a time, almost tripping over my own feet as I did so.

That was probably the first time I had overslept ever since reaching Seoul and in all honesty, that had done nothing to set my mind at ease as I caught sight of the overflowing crowd of people moving in the direction of the subway.

Every morning was the same, packed in like tuna fish that wriggled forward in too-tight compartments that made it impossible to breathe, also another reason why I always woke up an hour before the rush of workers came through.

“Excuse me,” I pushed at someone’s shoulder getting shoved into my face, trying in vain not to let my nerves get the best of me, “sorry, but you’re crushing me—“ “Oh sorry,” a man that looked like he was in his forties dipped his head in what seemed to mimic a bow, before he slowly tried edging back, in vain.

I huffed into the window pane, my breath fogging up the glass as I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for the ride to be over. 10:45.a.m, my watch said. My interview was at eleven. There was no way I was going to make it in time.

It felt like eternity had passed before I finally heard my desired station being called out on the intercom. I slowly turned my entire torso to face the exit with slight relief flooding through me. I hadn’t died. Things would be okay, it would be okay—The doors slid open and no sooner had I stepped through that I felt a shoulder shove into mine.

I stumbled, throwing my hands out before me to brace myself for the impact only to feel warm fingers grip onto my forearm to pull me up and away from the throng of people flowing out of the train.

“You okay?”

A deep alto resonated in my ear, causing me to look up into an unfamiliar face. There was no doubt that this stranger was tall. Taller than the average in Korea, no doubt. He had a nicely shaped nose, perfectly sculpted for his side profile, I couldn’t help but notice.

“Yeah,” I checked my handbag and quickly dusted off my pants, “thanks. Would’ve gotten crushed back there.”

“No problem.”

Needless to say, my interview was a complete and utter failure. That evening, I binged on some Mcdonald’s followed by a whole pint of ice cream while watching an entire K-drama on my own, ignoring the distinct ping! of my phone that signalled the upcoming stream of messages left unread. But I couldn’t do it. Not now, not when I felt like my life was falling apart and I felt powerless to stop it.

Why? I had thought then. Why me? Why couldn’t I succeed like all my my fellow friends did?

It was true that Marine biologists were at an unfair advantage from the get-go. Jobs were harder to find when you started out in a niche. I had known that much when I’d enrolled for the degree, when I’d cried by myself countless nights knowing that my future was all but a bleak, weak canvas of nothingness. But I couldn’t give it up, no matter how much I wanted to force myself to, for I knew that if there weren’t people like me around to help restore marine ecosystems, then the world as we knew it would end much quicker than intended. I didn’t have the heart to give all of that up when I felt partly responsible for all the lives that mankind was taking away.

All these thoughts were a dark cloud, each and every one of them slowly creating a storm that was out of my control as I went on in my day to day life. It consumed me from the inside until there seemed to be nothing left but an emptiness that blocked everything out. And that scared me.

That was when I met Song Mingi for the second time.

It was around late evening when my restless self decided to take a walk to clear my head. It seemed like my feet had a life of their own for no sooner had I allowed my mind to drift off that I found myself boarding a train to nowhere in particular. A heavy sigh left my lips and I sat back in one of the many empty seats. The peace and quiet was a nice change from the constant bustle and movement, and as I gazed out at the inky darkness of the tunnel, I noticed someone shift from the corner of my eye.

He was sitting on the opposite side, one row before mine, his gaze hollow and empty and directed at the ground, seemingly as lost in his thoughts as I was. I wouldn’t have recognized him if not for that particularly perfect nose slant that instantly caught my attention.

That man. The man who’d helped me out of the subway.

And as if sensing my gaze, his head turned around slightly to catch my eye. Though he was too far away for me to notice, his head cocked to the side as he searched my face for a minute. Before he nodded in acknowledgement.

I nodded back, looked away. Heat crawled to the back of my neck, embarrassed.

I need to get out of here, my mind raced.

The next stop couldn’t come fast enough. I jolted up from my seat once the station came into view and quickly scrambling for the exit, I failed to notice the said young man do the same until I bumped into him as we stepped out.

Stumbling to the side as his briefcase clattered to the floor and spilled the array of papers hidden inside, my eyes widened in horror as some of them started flying away as the train whizzed past. I launched my body onto the ground, curse words spilling from my mouth as I helped him gather the mess of artworks that decorated the floor, from pens to pencil scrawls to pastels to dabbles of oil paintings that even in the shitty yellow lights lining the station, they looked ethereal and raw with talent.

“I’m so sorry,” my head was ducked, I couldn’t possibly face him, as I quickly stacked up the papers.

“It’s okay,” was his only reply as we managed to gather most of his work. My eyes flew to the ones that now laid on the train tracks, crumpled and matted with dirt and practically unattainable.

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated hoarsely as guilt filled me up to the brim. It wasn’t enough that I was having a shitty day. No, I had to go and ruin someone’s day as well.

Fuck me.

“It’s alright, really. They weren’t that important to begin with,” he held out his hands for the remaining papers and stuffed them into his briefcase once I handed it over, making sure that the lock was set right before straightening up to face me, “they’re just practice drawings.”

“Still though,” all that pain and effort, gone and wasted because of my stupidity.

He chuckled then and I looked up at him, quite surprised at the grin tugging at his lips, “honestly, it’s fine. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

I nodded and decided to drop the subject, wondering how it was possible to feel even sorrier for myself when I thought I had already hit rock bottom. We walked up the station staircase together in silence, which I would’ve probably found awkward if not for the fact that I was mentally beating myself up for acting so foolishly. He must’ve noticed the tired lines of my face, for his voice rang out in the silence as he stepped out into the street:

“Hey, if you still feel bad about the papers, don’t,” he stopped, gazing down at my form with what I hoped to be a reassuring smile, “it would’ve been another story though, if these were my finals.”

I flinched, though I forced a faint smile back, “okay. I’m sorry. Again. Please don’t curse me to death or anything,” an idea popped into my head, “are you heading home right now?”

“Uh—yeah. Why?”

“Please…let me buy you a drink. Coffee? Iced tea? I just—“ my fingers were already scrambling for some money, “please. I feel terrible about this.”

He cocked his head as an amused smile graced his lips, “wow, you really do feel bad.”

“I do. Please?”

And that was how we found ourselves sitting at a cheap plastic table outside the convenience store that night, huddled in our too-thick sweaters and blowing at our hands while holding our beers close. Conversation flowed naturally as we sat and breathed in the night air, allowing life to pause for a moment and enabling my brain to disentangle itself from overthinking too much. It was nice in a way, the distraction of having someone to talk to, just so that I didn’t have to wallow in my own self-pity.

I learnt that his name was Song Mingi, and that he had recently graduated from Art School with a dream to be a full-fledged artist. He had one cat that he’d named Kimchi and absolutely adored anime because of the art style and the unique story lines. I learnt that he was quite fluent in Japanese and loathed the subway as much as I did.

“Right now though, I’m working at a design company,” he took a sip of his beer, head tilting and side profile backlit by the fluorescent convenience store lights. He appeared softer, younger somehow, than his actual age.

“You like it?”

“Not really.”

I threw him a pointed look, “is that how you say no?”

“Alright. No,” he laid his chin in his palm, “I hate it. I feel like I’m wasting my time.”

“But it covers the bills.”

“Yup.”

“That sucks.”

“It does,” he took another hearty sip as I gazed down at my own drink. And here I was, jobless and with no ambition, no dream to chase. Because I was burnt out before even starting.

“And you?” he asked as I glanced back up into his eyes — gentle eyes, I found. He had very gentle eyes, eyes that seemed to know a lot more than what he let on, “what do you do in life?”

“I am unemployed,” the words sounded even more grim as they fell from my mouth, and I averted my eyes to the table to avoid his own out of embarrassment, “and I’m pretty sure I failed all the interviews I had this week.”

“What did you study?”

“Marine biology,” my throat felt rough, choked up with emotion as I thought of how ridiculous I must sound to this total stranger who was both talented and seemed to have his life together. Maybe it was insecurity that made me spit out, “don’t laugh.”

A pause, before he said, “why would I? That’s amazing.”

My eyes slid back up to his, “I—because…well…” and I couldn’t help myself from spilling it all out. How I came to this major because this was presumably the most passionate thing I’ve ever stumbled across in life, how I’d studied so hard not to fall behind when all my classmates seemed to pass their exams with flying colours, and how out of all of us in our year, I was the only one still roaming around like a lifeless soul while most of my peers had landed themselves some high-standing positions at big-shot NGO’s and companies focusing on Marine Environment protection and sustainability.

I didn’t realize that my eyes had filled with tears by the time I was done rambling about the fact that our planet was dying and nobody seemed to be interested in that fact whatsoever. Not until Mingi’s hand came into my peripheral and I blinked, catching sight of the napkin he was offering me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, voice small as I quickly wiped away my tears. My cheeks felt hot, flushed from a mixture of alcohol and from the way his eyes were intent on my face.

“I…” Mingi bit down onto his lower lip. He’d moved on to his second can by then, “I don’t know what to say. You’re…”

I waited for the insult. For him to laugh at my ridiculousness. Or maybe offer sympathetic words that were devoid of meaning.

“You’re amazing.”

I blinked. Once. Twice. Slowly, my eyes fluttered up to his.

“What?”

“All these things you’ve told me, they’re so…real. And I wish I could be more like you, you know?” he leaned back in his chair, “I’m always complaining that my life’s not good enough. That I don’t have purpose. These kinds of thoughts that make you question your existence. But then you come along and you tell me all these problems — real problems that should concern everyone around us — that make me open my eyes.”

Was this flattery? A compliment? I didn’t know how to take it, considering the fact that I’d basically laid out all my cards in front of this man who’d been a total stranger just a few hours ago.

He continued on despite my silence, “the world needs more people like you. Kind people, who really want to change the world for the better. Not because they want to prove something. But because it’s the right thing to do.”

My heart lurched in my chest. Stranger or no stranger, hearing that made some of the weight lift off my shoulders, even just a little. How stupid. How pathetic, that all I wanted to hear was to be praised and recognized by someone who I barely knew.

Nevertheless, it warmed me. The warmth of his tone as he gazed at me from across the cheap table. That was incomparable to an entire life filled with nothing but disappointment.

“I—“ a hollow chuckle escaped the back of my throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

He was the one to flush this time, “sorry, I didn’t mean to pry—“

“No no! Don’t say sorry,” I protested, eyes darting between him and the drink in my hand, “it’s—it’s refreshing, compared to what I’m used to hear.”

"Wah, I mean...I took art so I'm not one to talk."

I can't help but giggle, "so we're just a bunch of nerds. Bet you watch anime too."

"Don't get me started unless you want to stay here till four in the morning," he chuckled.

I wasn't really sure how to describe that night in particular. It felt like catching up with an old friend and yet, I barely knew this man. Somehow though, it seemed like he understood the pain that simmered in me, the feelings that I bottled up for all this time and it brought me comfort that someone else could empathize with the thoughts that pulled me down by the ankles every time I tried to swim.

Something had changed between us by the time he walked me back to the station that evening. What had started out as a coincidental meeting of two strangers had ebbed into the softest brushes of friendship. I was more than giddy to exchange numbers in hopes of meeting him again.

That night, I fell into a deep and soundless sleep. The best sleep I'd had in ages.

>>>

The third time I saw Song Mingi, we promised to change the world.

It started out as him inviting me over for his apparently out-of-this-world shrimp pasta, to which I'd scoffed and broke his heart by stating that I was vegetarian. But that had only fueled his desire to make me fall in love with his cuisine as he promised me the best alternative to that.

He'd bought wine for the occasion, had managed to secure the apartment all to himself that evening, and had even decorated the table with soft scented candles and matching plates that brought out the magical air of first dates.

That was enough to bring a smile to my lips and I had looked over my shoulfer at him in amusement, "aren't you a romantic?"

I swore I caught his flush even in the dim golden hues that bathed the room, though he answered back with a scoff, "I'm an artist. Of course I'm a romantic."

"I was friends with some art kids, back in uni," I said as I sat down at the table, Mingi following my movements as he placed the pot of pasta between us, "and I gotta say, I felt like they were more cyberpunk and dark than actual romantics."

"Yeah, even art kids have their own little gangs," he wrinkled his nose, "honestly, I was pretty normal. Didn't dye my hair, no piercings in my nose, no tattoos 'coz I hated needles. People would keep asking me if I was a design student."

"Wait--isn't that like, kind of the same thing though?"

"It's different in the way we approach the subject matter. But yeah, I don't get it either. Why can't I be an artist and a designer? I don't want to choose."

"Ah, let the existential crisis strike again."

We clinked glasses, gobbled up the pasta with vegan meat that he'd replaced -- with too much confidence bordering on arrogance, I might add -- and as we spoke, my attention couldn't help lingering over his works until at some point, Mingi had relented and gestured for me to grab his sketchbook.

And that had been a game changer. It had opened my eyes.

Sure, I'd seen his sketches when I'd caused his spill a few weeks ago. But at that time I was all too panicked to actually care what had been sprawled over the paper...until now.

"So you draw characters?" My mouth was practically hanging open as I constantly gazed at the array of faces sprawled before me. They were beautiful. Stunningly so. And haunted somehow, as if wrapped in narratives of their own.

"Yeah. I like faces. I like people." I heard the shyness in his alto as he stood next to me, hand going to scratch the back of his neck, "I think they all carry so many different stories."

And they did. Their eyes said something different within each and every scene. My heart tugged with emotions I couldn't quite decipher for myself as I pondered oveer his intent.

That was when the idea hit me.

"Mingi," I turned to him, "you said you wanted to tell stories?"

Raising a brow, he said, "yeah?"

"How comfortable are you with animated movies?"

"Hm. I did some modules back in college so I'm not unfamiliar with it. Why?"

"This is going to sound crazy okay?"

Alarm flashed through his features. He blinked, "okay."

"Let's make an animated movie. About the ocean."

>>>

And he said yes. Just like that.

He heard me out first, worked through all the logistics of how we were going to create something together that would bring to life a vision of a new world, a world that would bring life within the marine ecosystem. Our meetings were flexible, in-between scraps of time that we'd get either during his lunch time or during evenings where we'd get dinner and discuss. But while I was unsure of whether I'd pushed him before even asking him about it, I caught a glimpse of the twinkle in his eyes, and that had made me pause for a minute.

It was the look of pure love.

Love for life.

In all honesty, a little part of myself fell for Mingi there and then.

"I was thinking it to be more like a kid storybook," I told him from my place on his sofa, watching him at his tiny kitchen desk sketching out some panels, "so that it's got a light mood with dark undertones."

"Yeah, it'll be more effective that way," he murmured, brows stitched together and lips puckered. That expression took ten years off his age, "I was thinking maybe we need a protagonist. Maybe she's a mermaid or something. Has animals friends and lives in the corals--"

"And she watches as all the fishing destroys her home," I finished with barely restrained excitement, "and she falls in love with a fisherman who decides to help her out!"

Mingi's eyes lifted from his paper -- that must've been the first time in a full hour since he was so focused on the task at hand -- and locked on mine. A grin slowly spread across his face, "I like that. A lot."

There was something in his gaze that made me heat up, though I made an attempt to shrug and look away to avoid the heat slowly spreading through my limbs as if someone had suddenly turned up the temperature in the room.

My week followed with a few more interviews, most of which were unsuccessful. One of them seemed interested enough -- a Marine conservation company that focused on dolphins and whale protection -- but upon scheduling an official meeting with the manager, I couldn’t reel in the horror that struck me as soon as I stepped foot into the enclosure. The dolphins barely had any room to swim around, let alone the condition of the waters that were more of a murky green than health aquamarine blue. The animals themselves didn’t look too happy to be here and god knows one could understand, considering the circumstances and the fact that this pool was the size proportionate to a tuna can.

The cherry on top though, was definitely the orcas. Top fins flipped to the side and with only three left -- the information board stuck to the entrance stated that there were at least ten of them -- it definitely appeared more to be a morgue than a conservation area.

At this point, I couldn't stop the tears. Pain scratched through my chest before I swivelled around with barely restrained anger, "you--" my nostrils flared, jaw clenching, "that's--that's what you call keeping them safe?"

The manager's eyes narrowed, "With all due respect, we--"

"You're killing them!" I yelled out, unable to restrain myself, "this is called murder! And you call yourself a marine conservation? What is wrong with you!?"

Needless to say, I was kicked out a few seconds after that.

But the damage was done. My heart was aching, practically empty of anything else apart from the horror I had just witnessed unfold before my very eyes. If they had a good reputation and were treating their animals badly, how about the ones that didn't have any funding? The ones that had smaller acres and less manpower to help?

How many animals were they killing in the process?

Sure, not all of them were like that. But that was a bit slap in the face. By reality.

Mingi noticed my wallowing silence when he came over that night -- I had cooked vegan burgers for the occasion -- though I tried to hide it behind the pretence of tiredness and lack of sleep. He wasn’t convinced though, for as soon as we’d dumped our plates in the sink and collapsed onto my worn-out red couch with frayed fabric ends hanging from its sides, the first thing he uttered was:

“Did something happen?”

I looked up, surprised that he’d picked up on my nonverbal cues since I usually prided myself on always managing to keep my emotions in check whenever I was in the public eye.

Admittedly though, this was a feeling I had never felt before. This wretched, this broken-hearted. I had seen documentaries, countless videos of slaughter and poor conditions.

But this, this was something entirely out of its league. This was horrendous. I couldn’t understand how one could even do such a thing. How one could think of this as humane, as a service to those beautiful animals that never hurt anybody.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Mingi continued in a rush, “I didn’t mean to pry--”

“They barely have any space,” I cut him off, voice practically on edge as the sight of the dolphins flashed through the back of my lids, “they--they looked ill. Mingi, you should’ve seen them. They didn’t--they didn’t look like they were going to survive in there and, I--I couldn’t not do anything so--”

My tears had already gathered at the corner of my eyes and I buried my head into my arms so that he wouldn’t have to fall victim to my sobs. It surprised me, though, when his warmth came to wrap around my figure, hand pressing against the back of my head so that I was nestled into the crook of his neck.

The murmur scratched the back of my throat, “I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” Mingi’s soothing alto washed away the nervous thought that maybe he was doing it out of sympathy. Out of pity, even. But he sounded more comforting than uncomfortable, which made me cry even harder into his shoulder.

It might have sounded stupid to anyone else; crying about animals that still had a chance at life, crying because they were forced to be in cages that didn’t serve them any better purpose than leaving them out to sea as dead meat. But I couldn’t help myself, couldn’t help my heart, from the deep sorrow that washed through me every time I pictured those lifeless creatures -- usually so alive and vivacious and just amazing to be around -- just wallowing in the waters like a bunch of dead floating bodies.

This wasn’t about allowing them to live. This wasn’t about carving out a better future for these animals. This was merely about trying to build a good reputation, and feeding off all the money they received because of good samaritans that wanted to do good and yet, had no idea of what was going on behind the scenes.

It was horrifying. Heartbreaking. And I couldn’t stand by to watch them all fall to pieces, to be killed to extinction.

“It’s okay,” he shushed me when he heard my sobs get a little louder. One of his hands soothed down my back, stable and comforting. I tried breathing in and out, raggedly, but eventually slowly settling into small hiccups as the night wore on and the pain subsided.

How stupid. How embarrassing. What an idiot.

Those were the thoughts that circled my brain as soon as my consciousness cleared.

"My neighbour had a cattle field,” Mingi said a while later when we sat side by side, one of his hands still on my back and rubbing slow circles. I had grabbed a pillow, hugging it for comfort, “back when I was still a kid. I had to walk to the nearest bus stop because we were so far out. We didn’t have any buses coming our way. Whenever I passed by that farm though, I’d feel so helpless to see all these cattle, bunched up together. There was barely enough space for them to breathe, let alone move.”

I sniffled and wiped my nose, nodding at him to go on.

“So one day, oh god. You’re going to laugh,” he chuckled softly, rubbing his face with his other hand, “one day I decided-- you know what? They didn’t deserve to live like this. I felt sorry for them. And they were getting slaughtered. Every single day. I was so angry that I went over to the backyard fence that afternoon and just opened the gate.”

“You did what?” My eyes bulged out of their sockets.

Mingi burst out laughing, “I know, I was stupid. And I wasn’t thinking about how this was the man’s hard work you know. It was what paid the bills. But I was naive and I just really wanted to help the cattle. So I set them free,” His laughter dimmed into chuckles, “all fifty-five of them.”

“Holy shit Mingi,” my mouth formed an ‘O’, “you’re crazy!” I started cackling, imagining a younger version of Mingi storming up to the fence with that same determined glint in his eye. I’d definitely done some crazy things back when I was still a child. But this one was unheard of.

He joined in and soon enough, we were laughing our heads off for god knows whatever reason. All I knew was that the ache in my heart had dissolved into a tiny stub the size of a burnt-out cigarette and my stomach now hurt from too much laughing.

“Don’t worry Y/N,” Mingi smiled down at me, those feline eyes soft and the curve of his full lips lighting up his features, “if they can’t see the wrong they’re doing now, then our project will.”

Right then and there, I believed him.

>>>>

I fell in love with Song Mingi the same way I fell in love with the sea.

I was not, until I was.

And when the realization hit me, I was in a little too deep to retract my footsteps.

Maybe it was in his gentle demeanour. Something I wasn't used to in guys. But Mingi had a sensitivity to him, a way with human emotions that made it easy to communicate. He was soft and kind and so open to everything and anything I said. He had a stubborn streak, but mostly for things that concerned his self-worth. And I hated how he couldn't admire his talent the same way I did.

But that was the thing with artists right? They always shied away from the limelight, let their works of art speak in their stead.

And what I loved the most about Mingi, was the fact that he listened. He actually took the time to listen and remember the things I said. It might have been little, insignificant. But it wasn't for me.

"Y/N! Guess what I brought for you!" He hollered one particular Wednesday night after work. He practically lived here, for his things were already sprawled onto the kitchen table from last night, and the night before.

"A donut? A latte? A pizza?" I called back while stirring the red bean stew as a quick dinner. The lack of response caused me to turn around, only to be faced with a bunch of red roses. I yelped in surprise, "what the-- what's this for?!"

My face heated up on its own accord as Mingi laughed and said, "Happy International Women's Day."

"What?" I blinked in shock, my curry now forgotten on the stove, "you mean, happy valentines?"

"Nope. No mistake. Today's International Women's Day," he grinned, "so here you go, a bouquet of roses to one of the strongest women I know.”

My face explode with heat and if it weren’t for me averting my head and hiding my face amidst the roses that tickled my nose, he would’ve guessed the way my heart beat for him. Too fast for it to be normal.

Another time, we’d been hanging out by the Han River sloppily eating our way through ice cream in zero degree weather and he hadn’t hesitated to give me his hoodie when he’d noticed the raw redness of my hands, the sniffles coming from my nose.

“You’re cold,” he’d stated with a small tut of disapproval. I protested with a shake of my head, but it had been no use. He was already pulling his coat off and not a second later, his hoodie was flung onto my face.

“Ow,” I mumbled as I maneuvered my hands through the sleeves, chest warming at his kind action. Mingi was a sweetheart, no doubt. And I really needed to stop crushing on him. He, however, did not make it so easy.

“Thanks,” I glanced back at him after stuffing my hands into his hoodie pockets. It smelled just like him, as if Mingi himself was wrapping me in his arms. The thought made my heart melt, “you didn’t have to, you know. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Sure, Y/N. You look like you could fly away if I pushed you too hard,” he reached over to ruffle my hair and I’d pouted then before jabbing playfully at his shoulder.

The more I spent time in Mingi’s flat, the more I got to know of his entourage, met his friends and saw how they genuinely cared for the said young man. In return, he met mine and it had become a habit to drag him along wherever I went and vice versa. So much so that it elicited a few curious glances and poignant questions that I tried avoiding at all costs for fear that they’d find out my true feelings.

“Mingi’s never been an outgoing kid,” Hongjoong said -- he was one of Mingi’s older childhood friends and they’d known each other all their lives -- during one of the evenings when the boys had crashed into Mingi’s living room and the flat had turned into a Mario Kart competition. Much to the displeasure of Mingi’s flatmates.

“Huh, that’s something I can’t quite picture,” I replied, gaze trailing back to Minig’s face as he yelled and high-fived Jongho and San. A series of groans echoed from the opposing team.

“Yeah, he’s grown out a lot more since university,” Hongjoong took a sip of his beer, “he does gets quite emotional from time to time. That’s why I worry about him so much. He’s sensitive.”

“I guess all artists are, in a sense.”

The man nodded, “yeah, but he’s been a lot brighter. Ever since you two started that project.”

I tried not to show that I was slowly becoming a blushing mess but it was hard to keep my feelings in check when Hongjoong’s eyes were piercing on my own, suddenly alert and filled with an intensity that made me want to squirm.

“You like him?”

The words were like icy shards. I froze.

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face when I turned to face Hongjoong. My mouth suddenly felt as dry as sandpaper.

“Mingi’s fragile. If you’re gonna play him, I suggest you don’t.”

“I’m not--” the words ached as they escaped my voicebox, “I’m not playing him.”

“Then please, take care of him. He doesn’t show how weaknesses to everyone. But he has a habit of overworking himself, especially when it comes to pleasing others,” Hongjoong shot me a look.

My mouth reacted before my brain did. I blurted out, “why are you telling me this?”

And there was that look in Hongjoong’s eyes; the dark softeness filled with affection for the said young man that reminded me of that of a father’s. When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “because he cares about you, a lot. And I don’t want him to get disappointed.”

I wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or a compliment. Hongjoong’s words bordered on threatening, though I knew that it wasn’t the case. He was just doing his job after all; looking out for Mingi. But if he thought, for one moment, that I would go out of my way to hurt the latter, then that statement was proven wrong the moment I realized my heart beat for him.

As the coldness of spring melted away with the warmth of summer, sakuras went into full bloom and more and more people gathered outside to take pictures, couples strolling hand in hand while enjoying street snacks that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Empty streets suddenly turned bustling, just like our current storyboard coming to life.

“I don’t get it though. Why does the fisherman do that when he knows he’s going to go jobless when he exposes the fishing industry?” Mingi asked one night while we watched the animation roll by in comfortable silence. The frames were almost done at this point, with only the ending to wrap it all up and the music to be added in the background.

I leaned against his desk table, slightly curving of his sitting form, “because he loves the mermaid,” I went straight to the point, not realizing that my voice had dropped to a whisper until Mingi turned in my direction.

“He loves the mermaid just enough that he’s willing to sacrifice all of that?”

It sounded dumb when he put it so simply. So I shrugged, “people do stupid things in the name of love.”

A slight pause as my words buzzed through the air.

"Would you?” He spoke up,” do that?”

My eyes dropped to his face. The depth of his orbs reflected in the dim light of his room had my heart shaking and impulsively, my hand went to fist onto my jumper sleeve. Just enough to keep me grounded.

“What--” I swallowed thickly, “do you mean?”

A few beats of silence ensued. Our eyes locked.

“Would you give all that up for the one you love?”

I kept my eyes on his even as heat littered through my cheeks, “yeah,” I bit my lip, “yeah I would. Probably.”

Something flashed in his eyes then. Something different, darker than what I was used to seeing. A silent breath escaped my lips. Electricity curled through the air, buzzing in-between us.

I didn’t dare breathe. Didn’t dare look away.

Mingi’s eyes traced my every feature, gaze flickering to my mouth.

My lips parted on their own accord and he must’ve heard me, for his eyes flickered straight back up to mine and-- had his eyes always been this intense? This beautiful?

His hand suddenly fluttered over my arm. He tugged.

I stumbled into him.

And then his lips were pressing onto my cheek. Softly. A little shy. Breaths warm where his mouth hovered right upon my skin that burned as butterflies suddenly exploded through my stomach. A gasp died in the back of my throat and as I gazed down at him in growing surprise at his stroke of boldness, I saw his eyes widen in realization of what he'd done.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get into your space--" his scrambled murmur died when I shook my head to silence him, a slow smile spreading across my lips. I didn't know what to say though, what to do.

I finally found my voice after a while, "what...was that for?" I asked, tentative.

Mingi's head ducked shyly, hand going up to rub at his neck while avoiding my gaze like the plague, "I don't know," he admitted, "I just--I wanted to cheer you up. I guess?"

"You guess?"

His orbs flickered to mine, "don't make fun of me," he sounded like a child and a giggle erupted from my mouth, "I'm not. Just making sure what your intentions were."

I almost missed him murmuring out, "even I'm not sure."

That shut me up. I blinked at him.

"You looked sad," he looked away, "I don't like seeing you sad."

Was that a confession? Or was it just me being overdramatic?

I didn't bother responding out of fear that flat-out rejection was waiting for me just behind the door that broke the boundary between friendship and romance. I moved away and his arms dropped, clearly sensing that something had changed in my demeanour. For the rest of the night, we didn't address the issue, made it out to have been an accident, a small 'slip' if you will. In truth, I was a coward. Couldn't muster the courage to spill out the weight that was heavy on my heart and would rather lock up my feelings away, push them at the far end of my mind.

Maybe it was for the best. We were partners only for this project.

After that, who knows when I'd be seeing him again?

>>>

The day our story came to life was the day I almost told Mingi how I felt about him.

"It's done."

My brain couldn't process what my eyes saw. The animation kept on rolling forward and repeating itself, the melody becoming a numb buzzing background noise as the roaring excitement flooded through my veins, my heart beating so loudly I feared its sound echoed through the room.

Mingi sat next to me at his swivelling desk chair, chin on his palm and eyes glancing between me and the computer screen.

Ever since that night, there had been a weird tension every time we looked at each other for too long. It felt like an itch under my skin I couldn't quite reach, something that made me want to squirm restlessly.

"That..." my throat went dry. It was beautiful. The shading, the fluidity of the storytelling. Everything. "It's..." I struggled to find my voice.

It was beautiful.

"It's beautiful."

Choking up on the wave of emotion crashing through me, I couldn't restrain the sob echoing through the back of my throat and turning away from the young artist to hide the tears welling in the corner of my eyes, I jumped when a warmth ghosted over the back of my elbow.

"You okay?" Mingi's alto rang deep. He'd risen from his chair and it took me aback to see how tall he actually was. I barely reached his throat.

I nodded, fervently wiping the tears away, "I'm fine. Just-- it's hard to watch."

"Yeah," his features softened, "it was hard to draw."

If I was an emotional wreck, I couldn't imagine how hard he must have struggled throughout the whole thing. My body reacted before my brain did, arms flinging themselves around Mingi's neck as I heard him stutter out with embarrassment.

Burying my face into his chest, my body melted into his scent of soft men shampoo followed by a citrus aftertaste. His figure stiffened for a few seconds, before his arms slowly laced around my middle with a hesitance that made my heart flutter to my throat.

"Thank you," came my muffled mumble, "thank you, for doing this."

A small noise of approval rumbled through his chest, palms smoothing over my back in a manner so soothing it makes my limbs turn to mush.

We headed out to buy some tteokbeokki straight from the street vendor later that night along with some pizza to honour our success -- or more precisely, Mingi's success since he was the one doing the majority of hard work -- and as we settled ourselves on a bench in a nearby park of the neighbourhood, I looked up at the night sky with a soft sigh, knowing that after this night, my chances of seeing Mingi would be slim to none.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. It was more because he probably had a life of his own, a life he wanted back. He had friends that cared for him, had a stable job he needed to dive back into. He didn't have as much free time as I did.

Something like a jagged rock cut through my chest at the thought. I wasn't going to life; it hurt to know that Mingi's face wouldn't be a regular in my daily schedule.

But he'd done his part. The rest -- figuring out how to pitch that project to our sponsors -- was up to me.

"Have you made a list of who you're going to pitch it to?" Mingi's voice drew me back to reality and I blinked up at him, catching sight of the beer he held out in his hand.

I took it gratefully, cracking it open and taking a huge sip. The liquid felt good sliding down my throat, the familiar sensation of alcohol warming up my stomach.

"I have a few names in mind," the night breeze was cool as it washed against my features that seemed permanently doused in embarrassment, "I might try and pitch it directly to the National Ocean Board*. Though apparently, you need like a contact to get to the organization itself so I'll have to figure that out."

He hummed in agreement, "the hardest part's yet to come."

"No," my eyes swiped up to his, hating how easily he pushed aside his efforts, "you did everything, Mingi. I--I'm really grateful. I don't know how to thank you."

"You came up with the idea. You're the one who wrote the entire storyboard," he shrugged as he took a sip of his own beer. I tried not to stare too long at the bobbing of his adam's apple -- he looked so fine. There was no doubt about that. Even in his casual hoodie and training slacks decked in shades of black and grey, there was no denying that he had the charm and the aura of a model itself.

"I'm just the one who knows how to draw," he continued in an easy tone, which made me snap, "that's not true and you know it," my eyes narrowed, hands clenching a little harder on my can, "you can draw, sure. Anyone can draw, or learn how to anyway. But you can tell stories and trust me when I tell you this-- not everyone can," I shook my head, "not in the way that you do, anyway. It's magical, it makes you dream, it makes you think that maybe--" the words caught in the back of my throat as I swallowed thickly, "maybe there's still a little bit of hope left."

A soft pause ensued. The crickets chirped in the distance paired with the distant hum of cicadas. I kept my eyes glued to his, insistently trying to prove my point as we kept our gazes locked for a few seconds too long. And then, his features softened and his face broke into a soft smile.

A small that took my breath away.

He reached up so suddenly that I didn't have time to register the fact that his hand came to a rest upon my head. He ruffled my hair, in a manner so gentle that I stopped breathing for a full minute.

"Thank you," his murmur washed against my face, breaths tingling my cheeks and causing a splatter of warm peony to rise through the back of my neck.

I wished to believe it was the alcohol.

"No need to thank me," was the only thing I could mumble back, if only to hide how scrambled up my brain had become.

"You'll let me know, right?" Mingi allowed his hand to linger for a few drawn out seconds, before he dropped his arm and took another sip of his beer, "if ever we get a breakthrough."

"Of course I will. What sort of question is that?"

"I don't know. In case you decide to run away without any credits to the artist," he flashed me a teasing smile and I shoved his shoulder in response, "thanks for having absolutely no faith in me."

He laughed, "I'm joking."

"Oh, you're not. You're actually really serious about me stealing your work aren't you?"

"What? Of course not Y/N! Who do you take me for?"

"Who do you take me for?!" I huffled out playfully, " asking me these stupid questions--hey!"

I didn't have time to defend myself when he suddenly pounced onto me, fingers finding my weak points right underneath my armpits. I squealed, bursts of laughter and cries of protests falling from my lips as his hands scrabbled against my sides in an attempt to make me pay for my earlier comments.

"Mingi! Stop it--" I choked on my own laughter, hands failing to find purchase to push him away as he continued his attack without mercy, "that's for using me!" he gloated.

My beer caner spilled over the ground halfway through our playful fight and it wasn't until I managed to grip his wrists that I realized our provocative position; Mingi's body was hovering over mine that had toppled onto the bench, back pressed against the cool metal as I gazed up, transfixed, into those gorgeous feline orbs glinting in the dark light of the park.

The playful air stilled in light of the realization dawning upon me; that he was so close I could kiss him if I wanted to. His lips were mere inches. Would he straight-out reject me if I attempted to bring him closer? Those sinfully rose-tinted lips that looked plush and inviting-- my heart fluttered to my throat just thinking about it.

No.

Don't do it. Don't ruin what you have, a small voice echoed in the back of my mind.

Mingi, maybe upon noticing the change in my demeanor, slowly pulled back and pulled me along with him so that I straightened up. His head tipped down to the spilled beer cans at our feet, and chuckled.

"Well, that's a waste," he commented lightly, as if we hadn't just engaged in something a little more intimate than interesting conversation, and that made my heart sink a little.

"Sure is," I avoided his eyes at all costs, kept my gaze lowered in case he caught a glimpse of what he shouldn't be seeing in the first place.

The words were lingering on the edge of my lips the whole night, deliberately playing back and forth between what was best for us right now, at this particular moment. And if Mingi noticed, he didn't comment on it, though from the way his eyes would find mine in concern every time a silence lasted for too long, I suppose he suspected that there was something a little more that was bothering the depths of my heart even though I forced plastic smiles over my face and pushed my eyes into crinkles to mimic my usual happiness.

My lips held onto a bitter aftertaste when he said our goodbyes that night, as I held onto his sweater a little longer than usual, numb from the cold and the things that clogged up the back of my throat.

It tasted sour.

I love you.

>>>

Y/N: They said they would sponsor it.

My fingers shook with every key tapped onto my phone, brown orbs glued to the screen as I awaited for Mingi's reply. He was online, I had seen his status a few minutes ago before I mustered up the courage to tell him the great news that would've once made me ecstatic, would have me jumping around in joy and barely restrained excitement at the thought that my voice, our voices, were finally being heard after months of toiling and searching and begging and being thrown out of doors.

After that particular night where we'd celebrated our win, I'd been trying my best to avoid the said man when possible. It wasn't that I didn't want to see him. On the contrary, I had to physically dig my nails into my palm so as not to dial his number every evening when the silence, the overbearing numb emptiness, became too much to bear. But I didn't want to overwhelm him, not if he didn't want anything to do with me.

He never took the step forward to contact me first. I guessed that this was my answer.

Instead of pondering over what could have been, I decided to delve deep into my search for sponsors. Easier said than done though, considering that there were numerous marine protection companies that were using greenwashing for their customer market and blatantly refused to take part in such a 'horrendous, misleading act' as they called it. To fund myself for the time-being, I was grateful enough to get a job as a cashier in a Pet Shop from across the street from my apartment. It wasn't much, but it paid the bills and I was able to spend as much time with animals instead of human beings. Life seemed to crawl by at a slow snail's pace for some time, going through the ministrations of life and falling in a routine of going to work, calling companies and sponsors during my lunch break, gong back to work, then getting home and trying once more to search up other kinds of sponsors in hopes that they'd give me the time of the day.

It wasn't until a few months later that a small company in the outskirts of Seoul reached out to me. They introduced themselves as a branch of a bigger Western umbrella and after running a background check, I counted them as credible and accepted an interview.

Which led to the current situation.

My phone buzzed. Screen flashing: Mingi is calling.

My brain backtracked. Huh?

Fingers shaking, I almost missed the green icon before pressing the device to my ear.

"Hey."

"They accepted it?!"

A smile instinctively hitched my lips upwards, "yes," I murmured, breathless. Then, said it a little louder, "yes!"

Mingi laughed, "oh my god! They accepted it!"

I couldn't help but laugh along with him. His effect on me was incredible, lit me up on the inside and for a second I wished I could get a glimpse of his face.

I suggested that we meet up at a nearby café to discuss the details, which was weird, considering that it had been a few weeks since I last saw his face. I couldn't blame him, for he'd been having a tougher time at work and I was burnt out. Coupling that with our lack of communication and you got a friendship that was slowly fraying at the ends.

I forced my heart to mentally put out a front so as not to jump on him the moment I caught sight of his face. But that didn't prove necessary, for the moment I stepped into the quaint coffee shop filled with the mixed scent of books and fresh espresso Mingi was already wrapping me up in a huge bear hug, so tight I could barely breathe, overwhelmed by the familiar scent of his shampoo.

"It's been awhile," he grinned, pulling back to gaze down at me and I swore I felt my chest tighten at the softness swirling through his dark pupils. Everything, every emotion came rushing back like a tidal wave.

"It has," I managed to cough up despite the fact that my heartstrings seemed to be dancing around in-between my lungs. Just tell him already! "You look good, Mingi. Better than the last time we met."

"That's because we managed to finish our project before the deadline," he grinned as he tugged me over to his table. I took note of the worn-out black edge of his sketchbook peeking out of his backpack and had to smile. Typical of him, to be carrying out of his sketchbook even now that he barely had no time for his personal art.

We caught up on each other's lives and about the specifics of the sponsor. They were willing to advertise it on their social medias, their websites, as well as present it to the National Ocean Cleanup Day that was soon approaching, which was an opportunity for all aspiring artists and storytellers to present their art in hopes that it would be seen by an influential eye. Every commission would be ours and they'd only take 5% commission for their advertisement, a pretty good deal considering their reputation.

"I still can't believe they want to advertise it," he raked a hand through his dark locks. They seemed to have grown a little since then, "It feels surreal."

"It'll be a good opportunity for you too," I smiled back, "to get yourself known as an artist."

"Oh actually, there's something I haven't told you yet."

Leaning forward in my seat, my eyebrow rose in curiosity, "spill."

"Well, I'm actually quitting my job next month."

I blinked, "wha--wait, really? Did you get another job?"

He shook his head at that before his smile broadened, "nah. I'm not about that life anymore. I want to do what I really want," pausing slightly as hesitation flashed through his features, I offered him a reassuring smile, "I'm going to be a full-time artist."

My mouth dropped open in surprise, eyes widening, "Oh my god--No! You're kidding?!" and when he shook his head once more with that knowing smile I knew too well, my hands shot up instantly to grab at his with barely restrained excitement, "I'm so proud of you, Mingi! What--How did you--What have you planned?!"

"I haven't really planned anything yet," though his tone was unsure, there was no denying the full-out grin on his face, "but I've been gathering a bunch of my sketches. They all follow the same theme so I might just go with that."

"That's amazing!" I couldn't believe it. Tears were filling my eyes, "what concept are you going for?!"

And that was when his gaze locked onto mine.

"The sea."

I probably looked like an idiot. Staring at him like he'd grown another pair of eyes and not really comprehending his words for the first few seconds they settled into my brain.

That was when it hit me.

I gasped.

"W--Why?" was the only thing I managed to stutter out.

Though there seemed to be a layer of pink dusted across his cheeks, Mingi answered confidently, "because of you."

I gulped.

"I got inspired, kind of," his head dipped down, dark pupils lowering to the table as if he was too embarrassed to meet my gaze, "I couldn't understand how someone could be as passionate. I--I live in my head most of the time, never really notice all of these outside problems. And it's bad. I know it is.” His eyes fluttered up to mine and I lost breath at the intensity present in them. They swirled with a gentleness that was seldom present, a vulnerable sheen of maroon reflecting in the depths of his dark irises and yet, so intense at the same time that I flushed right down to my feet.

“But you don’t. You live to make the world better and I—I wish I was more like that. I want to be more like that. Because these things matter just as much as what I want to show inside my head,” he paused, hesitating for a few beats of silence before continuing, “when you first told me about the animation, I was—I’m not going to lie to you—I was scared, that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill your expectations. That I didn’t have that in me,” his hands, which had unknowingly turned to grasp mine, slowly interlocked his fingers with my own, “but I’ve never seen someone look at me the way you do.”

“How…” my words trailed off as I struggled to form a cohesive sentence, “how did I look at you?”

“Like you believed in me.”

Tears suddenly pricked at the corner of my eyes. Because he was right. I had had so much faith in Mingi that I lost my own. I had no purpose, while he did. He was so overwhelmingly talented at what he did that I wished I was more like him.

And all along, he was admiring me for doing whatever the hell I wanted.

“I—“ I tried turning my head, hid it in my sleeve so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Hm, I guess you can say ‘thanks Mingi, for seeing me as your role model’ or ‘hey that’s cool. I actually inspired someone’. Something along these lines,” he grinned as one of his hands released mine to cup my chin. Turning my face towards his once more before brushing the tears away, he murmured, “why are you crying?”

I sniffled, “because that’s the most wonderful thing someone’s ever said to me and I can’t help but love you even more—“

The words had bubbled out without warning and instantly my mouth clamped itself shut. I stared at Mingi’s shocked expression, looked back down at the cracks on the veneered table before me, and tried withdrawing my hands from his grasp.

Except, he didn’t allow me to.

“What…did you say?” his voice had dropped even lower. My heart jumped to my throat, nerves suddenly jittery, “you…love me?”

I tried chuckling, though I sounded more like a dying animal, “of a sort. You know, like a friend loves another fri—“

His pointed look shut me up and I brought my eyes back to the table. How embarrassing. How stupid. What an idiot. You’re such an idiot! My mind kept on screaming over and over and over again.

“Y/N.”

I didn’t dare look up, for fear of seeing someone I shouldn’t. For fear that one glance might break my heart into little pieces without warning.

He squeezed my fingers as a sign. His hand tilted my chin up to his. My gaze insistently glued itself to the crack running along the table’s edge.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

No. My heart screamed out. No, this is all wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.

“Fine then. You give me no other choice,” he sighed in what sounded to be exasperation and before I knew what was happening, I felt the softest touch of blossoming warmth over my knuckles. Eyes shooting up with a silent gasp, they went straight to Mingi’s as I took in the way his lips were brushing against the back of my hand.

To say that I was combusting like wildfire would be an understatement.

“Does that answer your question?” he whispered.

“Uhm…no.”

His gaze darkened. My stomach churned.

“I love you.”

I swear I could’ve burst out crying then and there.

“You—“ my throat was dry. Hearing myself say them sounded pathetic, borderline ridiculous. Hearing it fall from his mouth though…that was exhilarating. Magical, “You…love me?”

When he nodded, fresh tears welled up in my eyes. Mingi couldn’t help but chuckle then, reaching over to wipe at my cheek, “why are you crying?” he sounded amused.

“I don’t know,” I blubbered back, “because I thought you’d say sorry and tell me we’d never be able to meet again and I don’t know how I was going to live if that was the case—“

“I don’t think I’d be that drastic, Y/N,” bringing my hands up once more, he allowed his lips to brush against my knuckles, the mere action comforting me, “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

“Pretty obvious? Jesus Mingi. I can’t read you. You’re not obvious at all!”

“But what about that kiss on the cheek I gave you that time?!” He pouted, “that must’ve counted for something!”

“Well you didn’t do anything else after that so how was I supposed to know?”

“I thought that you were disgusted when you didn’t respond because you didn't like me that way,” his pout deepened and I laughed at how childish he looked. A grown young man who was on the brink of a breakthrough in his career, acting like he was merely a five year old child, “how was I supposed to know then?”

I bit my lip to stop the grin from spreading over my face. I failed, smiling so wide my face practically broke in two, “you’re kinda cute when you’re mad.”

Huffing and muttering some in-comprehensive words under his breath, he tightened his grip on my hands and lifted them to press against his cheek, where his face mellowed out into that soft, crooked smile that turned his eyes into half-moons, “so does this mean we’re dating?”

“Well that’s kind of bold of you, considering you didn’t ask me,” I tried keeping a nonchalant air, only to burst into a fit of giggles as the said man threw me a horrified look, “but I literally poured my heart out!”

“I’m joking you big baby,” I ruffled his hair for good measure and though he grunted, there was no denying that the grin on his face was a permanent one. It made a series of butterflies flutter in my stomach and biting my lip to keep myself from giggling like a silly schoolgirl, I felt the slightest tremors of happiness that sounded like my heart cartwheeling in my chest.

Mingi accompanied me home that night, not hesitating to slip a hand into mine and intertwining our fingers throughout the whole train ride. We probably looked like a pair of idiots, smiling so wide at nothing at all that it wasn’t surprising if we scared off a few passerby’s. As we walked up the street towards my flat, we chatted about nothing and anything at all and somehow, I felt a sense of peace that hadn’t been there ever since our project was completed. As though all the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place and now actually made sense.

It was calm inside my heart, inside my mind. The turmoil of waves that always seemed to brush a little too close to my sanity were now reduced to nothing, giving way to the calm sandy beach hidden below.

“That was a little too short for my liking,” Mingi’s statement caused me to blink back to reality and the fact that we’d already arrived at my doorstep made my excitement drop to disappointment in my stomach.

I turned to him nevertheless, graced with that soft smile that rendered me weak and made my throat clog up with unspoken emotion, “well, thanks for walking me back home,” my hands knotted themselves together, a habit of mine whenever I felt the nervousness take over.

“You don’t have to thank me, you know,” he flashed his pearly whites.

I turned away, feeling my cheeks warm up before Mingi gently grasped the back of my elbow. Tugging me close so that I stumbled into his chest, his hand was hesitant as it fluttered over my face, hovering a little distance away from my cheek before he mustered up the courage to cradle it in his hold. His other arm wound around my waist to pull me a little closer still and I would’ve lied to say that I was completely rational at this point in time.

My sanity had practically flown out of the window back then. Only leaving Mingi and his warmth in its wake.

His brown orbs held mine for the briefest of moments, as if asking me in silent permission whether he was allowed to take this step forward that would change our relationship forever.

So I did it for him. Pressed up on my tiptoes and claimed his lips.

Just like he’d claimed my heart.

The stifled yelp muffled at the back of his throat was one of surprise as I slanted my mouth against his and slowly, but hesitantly, moved my lips in a dance I’d hope he wouldn’t find to his dislike. But I was worrying for nothing, for a growl rumbled through his chest instead and he kissed me back with barely restrained vigour, hands pressing me close to his chest so that I gasped into his mouth. He took that to his advantage, tongue darting out to meet mine and drawing out a soft moan from my voicebox.

We parted for air after what seemed like forever, and that was when he pressed his forehead against mine with a tender, crooked smile that made me want to slap myself for wondering whether this was actually happening, that this was real.

“So,” his murmur washed over my face, nose bumping into mine, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Depends,” I shot back with a smile of my own, “Is it a date?”

“What do you mean?” he whined, “of course it’s a date.”

Laughing and pecking his cheek once, twice, three times until he turned his head to capture my lips with his, I pulled away with a breathless grin, pretty sure that I looked like a complete idiot with butterflies practically roaring through the entirety of my abdomen, “then sure, I’d love that.”

I didn’t know anything about what would happen to our small animation once it would be aired. There was a slight apprehension prickling at the back of my mind every time I thought about it, but somehow all this was overshadowed by the abundance of joy swelling through my chest every time I caught a glimpse of Mingi’s face, knowing that he was mine and that he believed in me, even if the rest of the world didn’t.

And that in the end, it would be okay.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez mingi #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #song mingi #mingi x reader #mingi imagines #mingi scenarios #choi san #ateez fanfiction #mingi angst #ateez angst #hongjoong #ateez wooyoung #song mingi fanfic #song mingi x reader #time capsule #utopia #collab

[aliendes]

Natural Borns - Chapter Ten

Banner by @thebannershop​

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW) 

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: crying, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, forced medical practices, restraints, alcohol consumption

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 4k~

A/N: I’m sorry, this is unedited. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours for your next round, dear,” Soomin says as she finishes up with your leg and leaves you. You lay flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with no emotion in your eyes, but oceans of tears falling from them. You let your eyelids slip shut after a few minutes, but you’re never able to fully fall asleep. 

 --

Soomin kept her promise and ended up coming back a few hours later. That visit was no better than the first you experienced, having been connected to those damned straps. After her second attack on your body, which you idly think isn’t technically her fault, she removed your hands from the restraints, telling you someone would be by in the morning to bring you in for ‘testing’. Her words were ominous, and while you really wanted to ask her to elaborate, you decided it would probably be better for your psyche if you didn’t know.

She had allowed you to change into a white sweatshirt and sweatpants, but wouldn’t leave the room for you to do so. Once again, for the nth time since you arrived here, you felt stripped of your basic human rights. This is how things are here, you suppose. You felt like they must be trying to break you. You wanted to be strong, but it was hard. You wanted to hold on to the fact that the boys were safe, presumably. At least they weren’t here, and that was a significant win in your mind. 

Soomin left a few hours ago, and now you were curled up in a small ball on the too small bed in the too cramped white room. White. You remember your mom telling you when you were young that white was the color of purity, the color of peace. The doves you would see at the farmer’s market on the weekends were white, and you loved to stare at them while they pecked at the ground. The memory makes an involuntary tear slip out of your eye. 

Now, white was all you could see. It definitely wasn’t bringing you any peace, and purity? You internally scoff as another tear falls. You haven’t even been here a full twenty four hours, yet you feel like any purity you did have left in you is about to be torn away without your permission. You feel cold, empty, used. You shudder to think about how much more they were going to take from you in here. 

You sniffle, bringing a hand up to swipe at the tears falling across your cheeks. It’s no use, as more just seem to be slipping out. Pursing your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. What were you supposed to do, other than submit and let them take from you? If you had any hope of getting out of here with your sanity intact, you figure you have no other option than to let whatever is going to happen to you, happen. Your lip trembles as a silent sob wracks your body. 

Your entire life has been a lie, at least, that’s the way it’s feeling to you right now. You feel like cattle, raised and cared for, only to be sold and shipped off to the slaughter house where you’d meet your demise. Killed, packaged, and consumed. A sick metaphor, but it felt fitting. 

You try to take a deep breath, but it ends up being a shaky inhale, unable to get your breathing under control fully. You have no idea how long you lay like that, sobbing to no one, trapped in a prison of your own thoughts.

The sleep that your body eventually succumbs to is fitful at best, and all you dream about is manic faces, all closing in on you like a caged animal. Hands reaching out to grab you, touch you, take from you. 

“Thanks for staying up for us.”

“Of course, Namjoon,” the burly man, known as Wonho replies easily as he holds open the large steel door, “anything for our precious leader.” Namjoon could hear the playful lilt to Wonho’s voice, so he let the comment slide with only a nod in response. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, and Wonho seemed to get the picture when the purple haired man shouldered past him into the building. The smirk was wiped from Wonho’s face as he watched the six other men walk past him, varying expressions of exhaustion and pain written across their faces. 

The seven had traveled from the forest through the bustling city of Seoul. After hearing from Yeonjun that you were indeed being held at the Big Hit facility, Namjoon made a call to Wonho, a natural born who owned an underground casino in the heart of Seoul. It was an illegal operation, but brought in a lot of money to help their shared cause, their shared vision of attaining equality within this fucked society. 

Wonho had agreed, of course, to let them stay at the casino. There were extra rooms that his associates rented out, and most of them were vacant at the moment. The young entrepreneur was one of Namjoon’s only friends from middle school and they had reconnected after Namjoon’s escape from the facility when they met at a homeless shelter. Coincidentally, the same homeless shelter Namjoon and Yoongi would meet Seokjin and Jungkook later. 

It took the group all day and well into the night to arrive at the rundown building, as it was nearing two in the morning at this point. They were all exhausted, sweaty, and for lack of a better word, broken.

The seven of them shuffled down the dark hallways, mostly shielded from the noises of the casino underneath them. It was housed in an old decrepit building that used to be a cafe once upon a time. Now, Wonho had refurbished the inside well enough to resemble somewhat of a home, with two stories of rooms, a kitchenette, and a small den. The outside was still old and rundown looking, to deter authorities or everyday normal people from investigating. 

A side entry door to the building led to a basement, and a series of underground hallways that housed game rooms and offices, which is where Wonho spent most of his time, managing the casino and other dealings. Tonight, though, his associates were taking care of business so he could wait for Namjoon and his crew. 

Namjoon reached the door leading to what he knew was the den located on the first floor of the building, waiting for Wonho to catch up to him. The others huddled in the small space, none of them looking at each other, actively trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

“Three rooms upstairs are empty,” Wonho huffs out as he reaches the others, eyes on their leader, “but I think you and I should have a talk.”

Namjoon gives his friend a curt nod, before turning his attention to the others. None of them look up at him, eyes trained on the floor or the wall in front of them. Another piece of his heart cracks at the sight, “You guys head up, I’ll be there shortly.” Yoongi is the only one who meets his eye, albeit briefly, giving a short nod before turning on his heel, grabbing Hoseok by the sleeve and moving towards the stairs.

Namjoon watches as they all shuffle up the stairs slowly, clutching onto one another in support, in exhaustion or hurt, he wasn’t sure. Once they all disappeared from his sight, he turned his attention back to the platinum haired man in front of him. “After you.”

Wonho surveys Namjoon for a moment. He looks different, older, even though it’s only been a few months since they last saw each other. Wonho isn’t privy to all the inner workings of their group dynamics, but he does know how strongly he cares for his friends. He had also heard about you, how could he have not? You were all Namjoon talked about when he did call, or when they had meetings. The natural born girl, the rare woman who had no idea exactly how precious she was. 

Wonho wasn’t one of the ‘special’ ones, no, just a normal natural born. He had to face his own discriminations throughout his life, but nothing like what Namjoon or the others had gone through. He wasn’t about to pretend like he knew how Namjoon felt, he wasn’t going to act like he understood. He did, however, believe in what Namjoon stood for - equality. That’s what everyone in their secret group wanted. That shared belief was what brought them all together in the first place. What formed the Allegiance, a group of natural borns and designer babies who fought for the rights of natural borns.  

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Joon,” Wonho started as he walked through the door to the den, heading straight for the small bar, “wouldn’t hurt to check-in every now and then, you know?”

Namjoon follows towards the bar, watching as his old friend grabs two small glasses and a bottle of dark liquor. “We speak at least once a week, Seok.”

Wonho raises a brow at the nickname, “You know I don’t go by that anymore.” 

Namjoon smirks, “No one’s here, Seok-ie. Besides, I never really liked Wonho.” 

The blonde purses his lips but continues to pour the drinks, passing the glass across the bar top when he finishes. “Tell me about her.”

Namjoon perks up at the mention of you, but doesn’t meet Wonho’s eye, instead taking the glass and swirling the liquid around in it. “Not much to tell,” he starts, taking a swig of the alcohol and wincing from the burn, “didn’t really have much time to get to know her.”

Wonho watches as his friend takes another sip of his drink, swirling his own glass in his hand. His knowing eyes never leave Namjoon’s form, surveying the man from top to bottom. He looked tired, and not just physically tired. Wonho could see the exhaustion in his face, in his eyes. Namjoon used to have some of the most expressive eyes, an emotive face, but with age and experience, his features have become sharper, more defined, and more empty. 

“You’ll get her back,” Wonho muses, bringing his glass up to his lips finally and taking a quick drink, used to the harsh flavour of the liquor, “Yeonjun-ie is in there with her, yeah?”

The purple haired man nodded solemnly, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah,” he drawled, thinking of the right words to say. He looks up at Wonho and then takes a quick look around the room, eyeing the door to make sure it’s closed and there are no listening ears. “We don’t have much time, Seok-ie,” Wonho winces at the name, but nods along anyways, “Yeonjun told me what they’re planning, what they- they’re going to do to her.” Namjoon sets his glass down on the bar, elbows resting on the cool wood and rubs a hand down his face. He shakes his head before looking back up at his friend.

Wonho looks conflicted. He knows that Namjoon is an empath by nature, a martyr by choice, and a leader by force. He understands that Namjoon will put anyone before himself, and cares deeply for those, who in his eyes, he wants to save from the horrors of the world. Wonho knows the other man will do whatever it takes to get you back, and so there is no use trying to talk him out of it, no matter how bad of an idea he thinks it is. They barely know you, Wonho knows he wouldn’t risk himself and his closest friends, family even, for a girl who probably doesn’t care about them either way. But he’s not going to push, he knows where that’ll get him. 

“Joon,” Wonho starts, setting his glass down and walking around the bar to place a comforting hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, “you guys can stay here however long you need. I’m here for you, man. You know that.”

Namjoon nods to his friend, eyes still trained on the bar top, “Thanks, Seok.” 

Upstairs, the others have split up between the three available rooms, Jungkook and Jin in their own room, Hoseok, Jimin, Tae in another, while Yoongi waits in the third for Namjoon. Most of them have showered and replaced their dirty, wet clothes with extras from the wardrobe in Namjoon and Yoongi’s room, a culmination of left-over clothes from Wonho’s employees or ex-lovers, they assume. 

Jimin and Tae were the last to shower, letting the others wash the day away first, allowing Jin and Jungkook to get settled so they could have their private conversations, their private moment with each other, the others knew they needed it. 

Jimin stepped out of the shower and was immediately handed a towel by a dripping wet Taehyung, to which he gave the younger a sad smile. The two stood in a comfortable silence, towelling off their wet locks.

Taehyung was facing away from Jimin, staring at the wooden door that led out to the hallway, lost in his thoughts, when Jimin finished drying off. He stepped up behind the taller boy, wrapping his short arms around Tae’s middle. Both of them were still only wrapped in towels, not yet having gone to find clothes. Jimin’s firm chest pressed up against Taehyung’s slimmer frame, making the younger shiver.

“What’s on your mind, Taehyung-ie?”

Taehyung sniffles, making Jimin panic and move around him to get a better look at his face. Jimin’s emotive eyes search Taehyung’s brown orbs, looking for any sign of hurt, or pain, that he could help ease. 

“I don’t even know her, Jimin-ie,” he clears his throat, a sore attempt and biting back the tears that threaten to fall, “b-but I feel so terrible.” Taehyung brings his hands up to his eyes, pushing the heel of his hands into his eye socket, willing away the onslaught of tears. 

“Shh,” Jimin shushes his other half, wrapping both arms around his center and bringing him closer to his chest. Despite the height difference, Taehyung always felt small in Jimin’s arms. He wasn’t sure what to say to the tall boy right now. He was there in the facility with him, knew what he had gone through, watched with his own two eyes what those people are capable of. 

The two of them have been best friends since middle school, having grown up in the same neighborhood, and have been inseparable ever since. Their likeness and similar genes had dubbed them ‘the twins’ since a young age, and they sometimes really did feel that way. 

Jimin has always been the tougher one, the one to stand up in the face of prejudice, protecting his other half. Taehyung has always been the softer of the two, more trusting, sometimes to a fault. He was always the sweet one, the first one to make friends. They worked well together, and made up for where the other lacked. They made a perfect team, so it only made sense when they first confessed to the other. 

That was over six years ago now, before they were found by Big Hit, before they learned the reality that is their DNA. The pair attended university together in their hometown, never suspecting they were any different from their natural born peers, until one day a representative from Big Hit approached them on campus, offering them a life of luxury. They were tricked into believing that if they sold their DNA, they would become rich. They could pay off their school debts, move away and buy a house, have the life they always dreamed of. It was appealing to them at the time, and only being twenty one years old, they fell for it. 

They had been promised room and board and compensation for their time, which was initially only supposed to be three months. Once they left school and arrived in Seoul, they realized they were in over their heads. The first couple of months was decent enough. They shared a small, yet comfortable, room at the facility. They had access to a gym, a pool, and a rec room. They just had to make themselves available during the day for testing, and were fed a specific diet and mostly vegetable and protein to keep them healthy. It didn’t seem like such a bad tradeoff.

That was until their three month contract ended, and they were given an ultimatum: comply, and get to stay together, or try to leave and fight back, and they would be separated. Jimin was initially very combative, and did everything in his power to put a stop to it, but soon realized he cared more about Taehyung than he did his own freedom, so he eventually submitted to the doctors and scientists, and was allowed to keep living in his cramped room with his boyfriend. 

The testing continued on both of them for about a year, until they realized that Taehyung was different. His DNA was more special, more in demand, than Jimin’s, and so they kicked Jimin out of the facility. He ended up living on the streets, only to be found and pulled back to Big Hit three months later after Taehyung suffered a mental break because of his boyfriend’s absence. And so, Jimin and Taehyung lived at the facility together for the last three years on and off. 

While Jimin was absent, Taehyung had met Hoseok, another resident of Big Hit, and Hoseok fell for the young man, doing his best to protect him in his lover’s absence. When Jimin returned, the three of them ended up becoming inseparable, until Hoseok’s eventual release, and subsequent meeting with Namjoon which led to the twins' first breakout. 

“Come, baby,” Jimin whispered to his boyfriend, pulling at his hand and leading him out of the bathroom. They made the short trip down the hallway to the room they had settled in with Hoseok. Said man was already waiting for them sitting on the edge of the bed, fresh clothes in a pile behind him.

When the younger two entered the room, Hoseok immediately stood from the bed and made his way towards the sniffling Taehyung. Jimin still had one arm around the boy, both naked save for the white towels wrapped around their waists. Hoseok reached out for both men, one hand on each of their hips as he led both of them towards the bed. Jimin left Tae’s side for a moment, grabbing the clothes and dressing quickly before handing over the soft t-shirt and boxers to Taehyung. 

“T-thanks,” Tae muttered, keeping his eyes trained down, not wanting to see the worry etched across either of his lovers’ faces. 

“What’s going on, Tae Tae?” Hoseok asked gently, not wanting to push the younger. 

Jimin sat on the bed and scooted back so Taehyung could sit in front of him. Hoseok brought one leg up onto the mattress, turning his entire body towards Tae, giving him his full attention. The two on the bed watched as their once blue haired lover dressed and sat down with them.

“I- I don’t know, Hobi,” he squeaked out, rubbing a large hand over his entire face before letting both arms fall beside him, exasperated. 

Jimin scooched towards him, wrapping his legs around him and kissing his shoulder, “It’s okay, Tae,” he whispered against his skin, “I know what you mean. We might not know her, but it’s obviously affecting Jin and Kookie, maybe even Yoongi. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you have more knowledge about what goes on in there than any of us.”

Hoseok nods along with Jimin’s words, knowing Tae has been very private about the things that happened to him behind closed doors at the facility. Even though both Jimin and Hoseok were with him in there, at least for some of the time, he never gave them details about what exactly happened to him and was only vague in his explanations. Jimin wishes that he would talk to him, but understands that he doesn’t want to relieve the things that were done to him. He’s witnessed his nightmares enough times to know it’s not worth it.

Hoseok brings a hand up to rub at Taehyung’s back, his shirt slightly wet and sticking to his broad shoulders. His eyes soften as he watches the youngest in the room bring his knees up to his chest and hug tightly, laying his head on the top of his knees. “This is silly,” he scoffs, “I don’t even know her.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Hoseok starts, a frown marring his handsome face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to finish his thought as risk of upsetting Taehyung even more, but decided to voice his thoughts after a look shared with Jimin, “Just because you don’t know her, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t care. Sh-she seems like a sweet girl, genuine. Jungkook and Seokjin really took a liking to her,” he bit his lip when Tae looked up at him through wet lashes, “and anyone who can make Yoongi think twice must be a keeper, right?” He tried to lighten the mood with his joke, but Taehyung’s frown only deepened. 

It was Jimin who broke the silence next, “We will get her back, Tae, and then we’ll get to know her alongside the other guys. I know you guys didn’t have much time with her, but it seems like she’s got most of you wrapped around her finger.” Jimin smirks at the older man next to him, bumping his shoulder against his. 

Hoseok smiles lightly, but it quickly turns into a lopsided frown at the reminder. He’s really the only one who hasn’t spoken to you in length. The most he ever spoke to you was when he woke you up last night. It felt like a lifetime ago already, even though it’s only been twenty four hours. Would he ever get a chance to know you better? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought, if not for himself, then for the others. He can’t deny the weird feeling he gets in his gut when he thinks about you, and he’s certain the others have a similar feeling if the soft eyes Yoongi gave you was any indication. 

“How do you know?” Tae asked in a quiet voice, looking up at his hyung. 

“Hmm?” Hoseok snaps his attention back to the younger, reminded of where he was, “How do I know what?”

“You said she’s a keeper.”

“O-oh. Well,” Hoseok started, pursing his lips as he thought carefully about his next words, “to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jungkook-ie so heartbroken. He’s obviously really affected by this, and you know him. He doesn’t warm up to people very quickly, so for him to be this torn up is really telling of his feelings. Jin-hyung, too.”

Taehyung and Jimin nod along with Hoseok’s words, having seen the duo earlier, any attempts at comforting them had been brushed off, the two only seeking out the other. They saw it, they saw the way the others seem to break at the thought of you being at Big Hit. They could tell you were something special, and Jimin was determined to make sure he got to learn first hand what exactly it was that made you so special to the others. 

“We’re going to figure this out,” Jimin says to the others, to which Hoseok nods, “and you’re gonna help, right Tae Tae?” 

Taehyung perks up, turning around to look at the blonde behind him, “Of course I will.” 

Jimin gives him a soft smile, as Hoseok continues rubbing at his back and shoulders. “Let’s get to bed, hm?” Hoseok asks, standing up and gesturing towards the headboard. Both men nod, moving to get up as well. 

Once the three of them are safely under the covers, Taehyung sandwiched between the other two, Jimin presses a kiss to the back of Tae’s head. Hoseok leans in and does the same to Tae’s cheek, making the youngest smile softly. “Goodnight, Tae.” 

The younger two fall asleep rather quickly, having been spent from hiking all the way into town, but what Hoseok wouldn’t tell them is that he laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, listening to the soft sobs of Jungkook next door. 

To be continued... 

taglist:  @mrsstilinski96 @sammiilynn10192  @minifruity​  @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz​ @chim-possible​ @kooksremedy @irishhbamb​ @sugashaye​ @lovelyseomin​ @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

#bts x reader #poly bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut

[yuckydraws]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31205591

New comfort fic because I need more comfort in my life-

Title: Oh, Don’t Mind Me! Just Crying in a Closet...

Pairing: (Papyrus/reader)

Summary:

Shopping is the absolute worst.

After a particularly mentally grueling shopping trip, you can’t help but break down. You try to hide it from your datemate, Papyrus, but the universe hates you, you guess.

(CW: detailed depictions and thoughts of body insecurity, mentions of body hatred, mentions of fatphobia, break downs, crying)

You wave goodbye to your friends from your front porch and wait until their car disappears in the distance before you feel let forced grin fall. Your posture slumps under the weight of your shopping bags and you take a deep breath before slipping on another fake smile and walking into your home. You aren’t sure if your datemate and his brother are home from work yet and you don’t want to risk any prying because you are fine.

Yeah fine… let’s go with that.

“Papyrus? Sans?” You yell out in a greeting, but you get no response. Hm, they must still be working. Both of their schedules could get pretty hectic so you aren’t particularly surprised, and if anything it’s a welcome discovery. It meant you could drop that smile again.

You move quickly, making your way up the stairs and to the bedroom you share with your datemate. After you close the bedroom door, you finally allow yourself to relax a bit.

No one is here to see you. No more prying eyes. No more judgments. And absolutely no one is here to ask the dreaded question: “are you okay?”

You’re fine.

Shopping was just hard, that’s all. Especially in malls. The crowds, the prices, the lines, the walking, the smell of delicious food that you can’t allow yourself to eat unless you want to have a breakdown in the dressing room later-

Don’t think about it.

The dressing rooms were a whole different story. Exhaustion came with trying on clothes and figuring out the absolute dog shit sizing system that’s somehow different between every brand. The mirrors were always too small and depressing to look into. Not to mention how the rooms were always so cramped. Or perhaps you were simply just too big-

Stop it.

And the jeans. Fucking hell, the jeans! Why oh why did society insist on making jeans the most socially acceptable type of pants in the majority of situations? Why can’t they have a set sizing chart? Why can’t you ever find a pair that fits-

You sigh.

On this particular shopping trip your friends were putting pressure on you to come out and show them how the outfits looked. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to see them gushing about how you looked amazing in outfits. You felt put on the spot and pitied even though you know your friends were being genuine. You hated how you looked in the outfits-

Quit!

You didn’t voice these feelings though, you simply said thank you and went on to the next outfit. You didn’t want to be the reason another shopping trip was ruined. Who were you to put a damper on the mood? You stayed quiet. Even when the majority of the stores your group spent time in didn’t have anything close to your size. You didn’t push to go into any plus size stores. It wasn’t as if they would have anything you’d like anyways and if they did it would be absurdly expensive. You also stayed quiet when your feet started to throb two hours into walking around the mall. Maybe if you lost weight you could do the bare minimum of walking-

Goddamnit.

You bring your hand up to your mouth to cover the small sob that breaks through your silence. You can’t bring yourself to move as you stand in the middle of the room with tears streaming down your face. Your shoulders shake with heaving breaths as you try desperately to stop the crying.

You told yourself you wouldn’t cry.

Your attempts are proven to be useless as the second you wipe the tears from your face, new ones fall to take their place. You can’t even out your breathing no matter how hard you try.

You desperately attempt to suck it up, but you can’t fool yourself. The dam already broke.

You hate crying.

You tense when you hear the front door of the house creak open, before you relax again. It’s just Sans. Your datemate, Papyrus, always bursts through doors cheerfully. He says it makes a statement and leaves no doubt that it is The Great Papyrus who is entering. Stars you love that goof.

While you’re sure Sans will leave you be, you move your hand back over your mouth in an attempt to stop the sobs from escaping. You’d rather he didn’t overheat and get concerned and pry. You don’t even know where you would begin with this issue. It’s not like monsters have any concept of humans' shitty beauty standards. Plus, dumping all your insecurities on your friend is not on your to do list. You just need to deal with this alone. Wasn’t that what you always do?

You start to sink to the ground, your feet are aching and your knees want to buckle underneath your breakdown. However, you freeze when you hear the front door open yet again, with your datemate yelling out a cheerful greeting. Fuck.

You hear muffled conversation and you panic. It won’t be too long before Papyrus comes to see if you’re home and the only thing your panicked brain can tell you to do is hide. You frantically look around the spotlessly clean room, tears still falling. Under the desk is too obvious and it wouldn’t cover you at all. You glance at your bed and almost scoff, you wish you could fit under there. Your hand moves from covering your mouth to grasping the back of your neck in stress, before you find the obvious answer. The closet.

You scramble into the walk-in closet as quickly and quietly as you can, desperate to pull yourself together before facing Papyrus. You close the door and lock it. You feel yourself relax a bit only to tense again. What about your shopping bags?! It’ll be obvious that you’re home-

Oh… You’re still holding them in your other hand. Okay.

As you look at the bags you feel a new rush of tears well up. Will you even wear any of these? You hated the way you looked in them, but you convinced yourself it was just a bad day. You’d like them another day when you were feeling more confident. But looking at them now, you can’t help but feel hopeless. You shake your head, drop the bags and make your way to the very back corner of the dark closet. Parting the coats hanging there, you hunker down underneath them until you’re sitting on the ground, and then you shift backwards until your back hits the closet wall. The coats hanging there shift and almost drown your figure in fabric.

Stars what are you doing? Hiding? Really? From genuine and loving Papyrus? Fuck, you are really pathetic-

No. No you’re not. You know you’re not. Even as your mind is racing and your body heaves with quiet sobs, you know why you’re hiding. Because as much as it hurts to deal with these feelings alone, you don’t want to explain them. You don’t want to lay out why you feel the way that you do, you just want to feel it and get it over with. Especially when you know that in a few days you’ll be back to your relatively confident self. You’ll be fine.

But damn if you didn’t want to just hug Papyrus right now…

And as if he heard your thoughts you hear a loud knock on the bedroom door. While he does love his dramatic entrances, he is very respectful of a closed bedroom door - which you deeply appreciate. It would only take one of those trademark Papyrus entrances while you were changing to make your soul leave your body.

You don’t answer, and you hear the bedroom door open and some loud footsteps.

“Dear? Are you home?” He calls out. You don’t answer. You force yourself to take quiet, deep breaths. You don’t want to face him until you are presentable at least.

“Hm. I thought you would have been home by now…” You hear him mumble, a bit worriedly. You feel bad for not answering him but you’ll explain yourself later. You don’t know what you’ll say, but you’ll figure it out. Probably.

At least that’s what you were planning on until your phone rings in your pocket, playing Papyrus’ ringtone. Shit shit shit-

You scramble as quickly as you can to turn off your ringer but it’s too late, you hear a triumphant “Ah ha!” come from Papyrus outside the closet door.

“Are you hiding from The Great Papyrus?!” You hear and inhale of excitement. “Are we playing hide and seek? Oh sneaky sneaky!”

You hear him walk around the room in exaggerated steps, knowing full well that he knows where you are. How could he not? The ring came from the closet and you can’t exactly hide anywhere else.

“Are you under the bed? Hmm, no. What about behind the curtains? No…. Under the desk? Also no…” Eventually you hear him stop in front of the closet door.

“There’s only one other place you could be, dear! The closet-” Papyrus cuts himself off when the doorknob doesn’t budge at his twisting. You assume he was going for a grand reveal with the timing of the jiggling knob.

“Y/n?” He calls. You don’t answer.

“You know, if this is hide and seek, it is not a very fair game. I am sure that locked doors are against the rules… Also I was not notified that we were playing this game, that has to be against the rules too.” He explains in a jokingly confused tone. You can’t help the laughter that escapes you through your tears at his words. This situation was just so absurd.

“Nyeh heh heh! So you are in there!” He jiggles the doorknob again. “May I come in and find you? Then it’ll be my turn to hide!”

“No.” You call out when your chuckles die down. Your voice is wobbly. There was no use trying to pretend you weren’t there anymore.

“... Is this not hide and seek?” He asks hesitantly. Weak laughter bursts out of you again.

“No, it’s not…”.

“Darling, are you okay?” He calls out in a concerned voice. There it is. There’s the dreaded question. All the progress you’ve made to pull yourself together crumbles, and a sob slips out.

“... no.”

The doorknob twists again.

“Will you open the door?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you move the coats away from your body and heft yourself up off the floor. You ignore that distinct pain in your feet as you shuffle towards the door to unlock it.

When you bring yourself to open it, you’re greeted with a very concerned looking Papyrus. One look at his face and you feel more tears welling up as guilt fills you. You open the door all the way and look at the floor instead. Why did you have to go and make him worry? If only you could have sucked it up, then he wouldn’t be stressed out after just coming home from work-

“Can I hug you?” You hear Papyrus say in a gentle voice. He breaks you out of your thoughts and you have to think about his question for a second, his words almost seeming like another language before your brain comprehends what he’s asking.

You sniff and nod.

That’s all he needs before he kneels in front of you and pulls you in for a hug. In this position your head reaches his shoulder height, so you just bury your face in his shoulder. Your arms wrap around Papyrus’ rib cage and your fingers bunch up the back of his shirt. When you start to sob again Papyrus holds you tighter, resting his head on yours.

He doesn’t pry. He doesn’t get annoyed by your tears and lack of explanation. He just holds you. Murmuring sweet nothings and rubbing your back comfortingly.

You cry for what feels like hours. When you get a hold of your breathing you lift your head a bit and instead rest your chin on Papyrus’ shoulder. You try to blink away your tears. You notice that the bedroom door is still open from when he walked in and you tense. Shit. You really hope that Sans didn’t hear your breakdown. You don’t like crying in front of people. It’s bad enough that Papyrus had to witness this.

Papyrus takes note of your tense frame and turns his head to see what you were looking at. That’s when you see the slight blue mist that you’ve associated with the brothers blue magic engulf the doorknob. It gently closes and you feel a bit better. Still embarrassed, but better.

“Thank you…” You murmur, your voice nasally from the tears. Ugh snot. The worst part about crying. You pull from the embrace a bit and wipe at your eyes.

“Of course, dear. Are you feeling any better?” Papyrus asks you, one hand holding your waist and the other reaching for the tissues on the desk. You take it gingerly, using those tissues to clean up your face and blow your nose. It’s not until after you finish throwing away the used tissues in the trashcan near you both that you answer.

“Kinda. I mean I’m pretty sure I’ve cried all my tears, but I don’t feel that good.” You state honestly. You finally meet Papyrus’ eyes and see that his sockets are narrowed. He looks conflicted.

“Do you wanna talk about it? I’m a very great listener!” Papyrus gives you an encouraging smile. Stars that smile…

“I’m not sure how to explain it if I’m being honest… I just feel gross and ugly right now.” You see his eye sockets open wide with shock, and he opens his mouth to speak but you keep talking. “And I know I’m not those things, but I just feel like those things right now. I’m exhausted and stressed and my feet are killing me and I just wanna lay down and forget I have a body.”

Papyrus looks lost at your words.

“Okay… I’m with you so far. I’m not sure I really understand all of it though.” He tells you. You expected this type of reaction.

Earlier in the midst of your breakdown, the thought of even trying to breach this subject with Papyrus seemed impossible. But looking at him, completely focused on you, so supportive and attentive, makes all those feelings of apprehension melt away.

“I think this is another one of those culture differences that might take awhile to understand. But, you know, I’m willing to explain, if you want.” You offer.

“Yes please. I want to understand dear. I want to help in any way I can,” he says, grabbing both your hands and squeezing them softly. You give him a small smile, “But first, you said your feet hurt? Let’s get you off of them then!”

Papyrus stands up and guides you towards the bed, and when you get to it he motions for you to sit. You comply and watch as he then seats himself on the floor in front of you, taking your feet into his hands.

“Oh you don’t have to-” you start, but he is quick to shush you.

“I know, but I want to!” Papyrus tells you, “My datemate is in pain and I can help! I am a very good healer you know.”

You simply nod and murmur out a thank you - too exhausted to argue with him. He slips your shoes off easily, placing his hands around your still socked feet and you soon feel the soothing, warm feeling of healing magic seeping into them. Through this connection, you sense Papyrus’ concern and love in his intent to heal. Since you don’t have magic the connection is weak between you two, but you try to send back your feelings of gratitude. Based on how he looks up at you and smiles with a small orange blush on his cheekbones, you assume he felt it.

When you first felt his intent behind his magic, it was actually in his spaghetti. He had been taking cooking lessons (it was after you got food poisoning from trying his cooking for the first time - he felt horrible about it) he wanted you to taste his progress. You were surprised not only by the amazing flavor, but the feeling that you got when you ate it. It was distinctly not your feelings, the feeling of nervousness yet pure joy. When you asked Papyrus about it, he was ecstatic that you could feel intent. He explained that monsters can feel the intent behind others magic, which helps for communication. This intent shows up in any process that involves magic- including cooking with magic. Ever since, you’ve been practicing feeling intent and sending yours back to him whenever you got the chance.

“So, what exactly did you mean earlier with those harsh words to yourself?” Papyrus asks, making you look at him again. You take a deep breath and get ready for the conversation ahead.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that they were targeted towards me, I was just stating how I feel right now. I wasn’t talking bad about myself, that was just the best way I could describe how I’m feeling. I guess another word would be ‘insecure’? But again, I usually don’t feel this way. I’ve long since accepted my size, and I’ve made great progress in learning to love my body. Today was just hard. It broke me. I know I’ll be okay but for now I’m just feeling bad and I need to stop trying to push it down.” You explain, your voice still a bit nasally. There is a bit of silence as Papyrus mulls over your words. Through that weak connection you feel his understanding, followed by more confusion.

“I think I understand that part now… Um could I ask why you feel that way? Did something happen on your shopping trip?” He asks tentatively, probably worried he’s prying too much. But you offered explanations, so…

“Well kinda? Not really… hm how do I explain this…?” You’re quiet for a bit and Papyrus let’s you think.

“Basically, humans have a very weird standard of beauty. I think this is because when you get down to it, we all essentially look the same. When you strip away the few differences we have, you’re left with a fleshy being with a body, skin, hair, four limbs, ten fingers, ten toes, etc. Of course there are exceptions to this, but the majority of us have those. We don’t have the stark diversity in looks that monsters have. So as stupid as it sounds, there is an ideal way to look and if you don’t look that way then - good luck, basically. People treat you like less of a person, like you're disgusting, or like you need to hide and feel shameful about it. Basically a lot of humans suck and are way too focused on how other people look when they should be focused on themselves and their own issues. Does this make sense so far?”

“Yes it does…”

“Okay, well this is where my issues come in…” You tell Papyrus about how the majority of your life, you didn’t fit these standards because of your size. You told him about how even as a child, people would make comments on your weight. How you quickly realized that many people didn’t give two shits about how you feel or what you think, just how you look. It just got worse as you continued to grow older. You explain how your view of beauty was warped and how, for the longest time, you couldn’t stand the body you had.

You explain your eventual acceptance of your body and your journey of self-love. How you were able to realize that your body was special because it’s yours, and the admiration you felt as you realized that bodies are just that. Bodies. They shouldn’t be scrutinized this way because they should all be marveled. Bodies are amazing. You would be nothing without yours after all, it houses and accommodates your soul.

You tell him how when you met him, you looked up to him - you still do. You wanted to love yourself like he loved himself. And you did. And you do.

But, you also explain how shopping is just a bad time all around for you. It’s a gate back to that dark place that you were in just a few years ago. What with the lack of representation, the sizes not being inclusive, the plus size section being set off to the side or needing an entire separate store like an afterthought because god-forbid society accepts that fat people are people and need to wear clothes too-

You could go on and on.

“It’s just so tiring! I’ve learned to love myself, and I surround myself with those who love me too. It’s just a slap in the face when I remember that most of society doesn’t look at me in a positive way.” By the end of your explanation/rant you’re out of breath and you feel more tears ready to fall. Not a lot. Just a few.

Papyrus hums worriedly, seeming to be at a loss for words. He gets up (having been done healing you about halfway through your conversation) and joins you in sitting on the edge of the bed with his body turned towards you. He reaches for you and you jump at the chance to hug him again, burying your face in his chest. He rests his head on yours and rubs small, comforting circles on your upper back.

You let out a small whine when he eventually pulls away, but are surprised when he grabs both of your hands and looks at you all serious.

“I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through this. You don’t deserve these bad feelings. You are absolutely beautiful and I love you.” Papyrus says. You sniffle and smile a bit.

“Quite frankly the fact that people have made you feel bad for how you look is complete and utter horseshit.”

He says bluntly. You break out into wheezing laughter, keeling over in your sitting position. Sure, Papyrus curses occasionally but he doesn’t have a habit of it and it always catches you off guard.

“I mean, do they have eyes? Are they blind? What in the fuck? How can they look at you and not see your beauty?!” He sounds genuinely astonished. But, as much as you appreciate his words, they just make you laugh even harder. You sit up again, holding your stomach as your laughter turns from cackling into that silent shaking laughter with gasping breaths.

“Well their loss!” Papyrus exclaims as he slips his arms around you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. He mutters something indignantly, but you don’t catch it as it’s muffled by your neck.

“Haha- huuu… oh my stars! I… can’t breathe!” You finally get out as you start to calm down. You return Papyrus’ embrace, shoulders still shaking a bit.

“... I needed that. Thank you, hon,” you say to him after the giddy feeling of uncontrollable laughter fades away. You wrap your arms around him and stroke the back of his skull a bit with one of your hands, “And I mean, yeah it sucks, but other than finding stores that work for me, I’m not really sure what can be done about it. Also, no matter how much progress I make, I’m gonna have bad days. That’s okay though, bad days are just something you have to feel and get over. I can already tell these days will go by like a breeze with you here, Paps. I already feel a lot better.”

You feel Papyrus shift in your hold, hugging you tightly before pulling away. He gives you that radiant, trademark Papyrus smile.

“I get what you mean… I’m just glad I can help! I’m always here if you need to talk, or just need a hug!” He says, while standing up, giving your head a little pat.

“Now! If you are feeling better, what about some dinner? I’m thinking soup…” He offers, and you feel your stomach grumble at the mention of food. You didn’t end up eating much lunch earlier, and damn if you wouldn’t love a bowl of soup right about now.

“Ooo yes please! That sounds yummy!” You grin at him.

“Alright then I’ll make some soup, how about a vegetable soup?” He asks, and you give him an eager head nod yes.

“Can I help?” Stepping away from your thoughts and helping him cook is exactly what you need right now.

“Of course you can! Let’s go see if that lazybones will help us too!” He grabs your hand and gently pulls you to your feet, waiting to see if you still felt any pain. When you give him a nod, he smiles wider and bends down to give you a quick kiss. You lean into the kiss before pulling away, seeing him blush again when you look up at him. He stands up straight and holds your hand as he leads you out of your bedroom to hunt down Sans to help with dinner.

“SANS!? WHERE ARE YOU? You better not be hiding from helping with dinner tonight!” Papyrus calls out at the top of the stairs. You giggle.

“Yeah Sans! Come on! It’s soup tonight!!” You join in.

You hear that crackle of Sans’ porting magic and turn around to see him standing behind you two.

“heh, guess you could say soups on.” He jokes, winking at you.

“NYEH! This was supposed to be a nice evening!” Papyrus screeches, stamping his foot a bit. You die laughing as he continues to rip Sans a new one, blissfully unaware (or at least pretending to be unaware) that he had grinned at dumb pun. This continues as you all make your way downstairs, and through the beginning of the prep work for dinner. As you watch Papyrus sassily remark on how Sans depends on low hanging fruit for comedy, pointing uncooked spaghetti at him while he makes his point - you are just overcome with the sense of belonging.

Instead of acknowledging the absurdity of this giving you a content feeling, you just bask in it. You’ve said it before, but you’ll say it again…

Stars you love this goof.

#whew that one is done #tbh it’s been done for awhile if just really been hesitant to post it because uh #it’s a little close to home #but if this provides comfort for others who have gone through this too #then it’s worth it #I know I’ve wanted a comfort fic for this for a long tim #so uh here it is!! #also I don’t think I executed this well but I’m gonna stop agonizing over it #yucky writes #yucky yaks

[thekeigospichula]

Cw// spoilers manga/ anxiety/ depression

That was a hard year, a really hard one. Midoriya left UA and his reckless ass was in danger every shitty moment. He defeated AFO, and came back  half of the year. The fucker is smart, he catched up the "lost time" and came back to normal classes. He defeated the final boss, but he preferred to keep his identity covered to the media, so he could return to his normal life. 

He came back, I- We were happy to have him here, he smiled and told us that everything was fine, but... He wasn't fine. He got a lot more scars in his body, face and soul. His eyes didn't shine anymore and hid himself under his beau- his hair and long sleeves. He wasn't fine and I knew it.

"Hey, Deku, open the door" was three in the morning, but he wasn't sleeping, he didn't sleep since coming back.

"Now no Kacchan" a sore voice answered.

"Now yes Kacchan'' shifted the pillow under my arm "It's cold here, I gonna catch a cold if you don't open the door" steps listened and the door unlocked before the nerd returned to his bed, hiding under the All Might teamed blankets. The bump on the mattress was shivering. I closed the door behind me and walked towards the bed, putting the pillow on the side of Deku's head, shoving the trembling frame a little.

"Kacchan" 

"What?" I shoved myself under the blankets spooning Deku.

"Nothing" 

"What?"

"Nothing, sorry, just sleep" 

"Hey, look at me" I tried to turn him, shoving his shoulder, but he kept glancing at his wall. "What's wrong?" his shoulders shivering and trembling.

"I don't know" he said curling in his place "I don't know Kacchan"

"We can figure it out" I said, caressing his back in circles, feeling under the cotton shirt the bumps of his heavy scars.

"I..." He turned hiding his face on his hands "I- I don't like what I see when I look at the mirror" I just hugged him didn't knowing how to make him feel better or cheer him up, I just could make him feel that he wasn't alone "I don't see the face of a hero" my throat tightened "I look dead Kacchan"

"We... Can go to the All Might museum or the new hero exhibition" I whispered and turned again facing the wall.

"No, it's not that, i-it's, it's like, I don't know, I feel like I can't enjoy anything. I see the scars on my face, and I think if the civilians would be scared when they see me" He drowned a sob, and I felt him so far from me, even when I was holding him in my arms.

"How you look doesn't have anything to do whit your hero work" I tried to said that he was incredible, that he was the most heroic human that I had known in my fucking whole life, that he was amazing and only being at his side felt like being in the safest place in the world.

"Yes Kacchan, has so much to do" he sighed wiping his tears with his forearm "When... I was there, all the villains from the Tartarus tried to being so close to kill me" he choked "They were discriminated, used or punished only to be different, they was the consequence of our hero society" he shoved my arm and closed to the wall "I did things that I don't want to do again" he turned to see me, half of his face hidden under his hair "I couldn't save anyone, how can I call myself a hero? I'd like to found another way to s-solve all this mess, but I couldn't, I couldn't I fucking couldn't" the light of the moon was enough to see the tears filling his green eye and his trembling hands "How I can be a hero when I couldn't reach them?"

"I don't know" I said and he whimpered "I don't know how to be a hero Deku, I did shit, I'm- was stupid and any heroic. I don't call myself a hero but I aspire to be one" I shoved him close to me, holding his waist "But I know how a hero looks, and you looks completely like one, you always has been fucking heroic, you always tried to save the people, even if they can't be saved" I whispered "You save me" and leaned my forehead on his nap "I don't care what you think bout yourself, you're my hero" I turned him making face me "Okay, actually I care, and I'll make you think that about yourself" I took out the hairs over his face "You always give your hand and light the way of the people to take it, I think that is what make you the greatest hero" I draw with my index finger each scar in his face, from the biggest ones until the littest "I-I'm here cause you took my hand, so, let me take yours" I held his hand and kissed his gray eye, the beautiful green was gone, but he was still here, he and his beautiful freckles, he and his scarred hands, he and his messy hair, he alive, he whit me.

"I-I" he said flustered, yeah, fucking handsome "You called my the greatest hero?" shitty nerd.

"Y-yes? SO? Got a problem?!" I turned facing his desk "You're the fucking greatest hero, but don't think so much about yourself, I'll work harder to pass you, you'll be behind me Deku, enjoy your title while you can" an arm held my wist and his face was buried in my back, tears wetting my shirt.

"Thank you Kacchan, I love you too" I turned again and wiped his tears holding him close, trying to didn't let him go away again.

He wasn't fine, he needed to be saved, and I was there. My hand wasn't as strong and warm as his, but was stubborn enough to didn't let him go. And I'll spend the rest of our lives holding him.

FIN

#mha bakugou #mha deku #mha midoriya #mha #mha fanfiction #bkdk angst #bnha bkdk

[gemstoneconstellations]

Request: Two Nerds for the Price of One

Summary: What do you do when you have two crushes? By Bakugo’s logic, find a way to date them both of course. (Bakugo/Reader/Midoriya)

Wordcount: 2142

A/N: this is a request from AO3. I hope this okay. I don't generally write poly fics cause I primarily write only about things that I have experienced or been in a similar situation, and I never been in a poly relationship so how it works is still something I'm learning about.

You ran as fast as you possibly could down the hall to class 3-A, slamming the door open harder than you intended. But you couldn’t help it! “Izuku! Izuku! Look at this!” You hopped over to Izuku’s desk, holding a flier out in front of you, unable to hold still.

“I can’t read it when you’re jumping all over the place ___chan,”  Izuku giggled at you as he grabbed a hold of the paper. He gasped when he read it and started vibrating in his seat as well.

You plopped yourself at the empty desk in front of Izuku, resting your chin in your hands on his desk. “There is a sale of limited first generation hero merch with a chance of winning free tickets to the grand opening of the Hero History Museum! We have an opportunity to learn about some of the first vigilantes that changed our society and created the hero occupation! These are the people that inspired heroes who inspired heroes that inspired us!”

You grabbed both of Izuku’s hands in the air, your fingers interlacing. He smiled back at you, just as excited. “The first quirks to be recorded in history! Laws we have now were shaped by them!”

“The vintage costumes!” You squealed.

Izuku nodded with you and both of you yelled out happily, “New heroes to learn about!”

The two of you were kindred spirits. In first year, you took one look at his hero costume and knew instantly who he was inspired by. As a fellow fan of All Might and his amazing costumes, it was your duty to intervene when Hatsume tried to change the looks of his costume. That girl may be a genius when it comes to inventions, but as a designer she just threw things together. When she made Izuku new arm supports, you jumped in to adding some All Might esthetics. 

Izuku was so thankful, it led to the two of you talking and finding out that the both of you were major hero otakus. It was so nice to have someone come over to your dorm room and not instantly judge you for the amount of hero memborbila you had. 

You continued to gush. “Soon, you’ll have merch for sale and a museum with all the great things you’re going to do! I’m going to buy all of them! I’m your number one fan!”

“___!” He tried to pull his hands away to hide his blushing face, but you locked your fingers with his.

“Nope, no hiding Izuku! Take my compliments like the hero you are!” you laugh happily, making Izuku turn into an adorable strawberry, not noticing the eyes watching the two of you intently.

“There’s two of them,” Bakugo mumbled, leaning against Kirishima’s desk as he watched you and Deku gush about some hero nerd crap. “Two fucking nerdy ass Dekus.”

Kirishima chuckled to himself as he finished the assignment he’d forgotten was due next period. Thankfully, Bakugo is more lenient when it comes to helping with homework now. “Midoriya has really come out of his shell. He’s made some good friends outside of our class now.”

Bakugo starred as the two of you got up to walk out of the classroom. He tilted his head to get a better view. “I want to bite his ass.”

“Kats-”

“Her’s too.”

“Ew. Here, take my drink since you're so thirsty.” Kaminari thrusted an unopened juice into Bakugo’s chest jokingly.

Bakugo hummed, crossing his arms. “I’ve decided.” 

Kirishima and Kaminari looked up at him, waiting for him to explain further as Bakugo paused to take a sip of the drink. “I want them both.”

Kaminari burst into a fit of laughter, holding his stomach, while Kirishima looked at him in horror. “What? No!” What the hell does his bro have planned?!

“I'm gonna make them both mine.” The ash-blonde just nodded in affirmation.

“Katsuki, no.”

The bell rang; the break was over and Kirishima hadn’t finished his homework! “Shitty Hair, I’m doing it. One way or another, their asses are mine.” Bakugo quickly wrote down the answer to the last question on the assignment before making his way to his seat, a suspicious-looking grin on his face.

“Well at least we know Bakugo has a type.” Kaminari leaned back in his chair, grinning as Kirishima sighed, giving up on trying to contain the chaos that is Bakugo Katsuki.

~

You groaned, completely depressed. Izuku and you had had a lot of fun at the hero merch sale; you’d both been able to buy so many items you never seen before. Of course Izuku bought everything All Might there. But when you two went up to the cashier, you were sadly informed that there were no more tickets. The museum was also sold out; you’d found out too late about the event. You lazily sketch out a new hero costume design for a first-year that needed more complex material for their quirk when a shadow hovered over you.

You looked up in time for a hand to slam down on the table and a body leaned in close to you. As you clutched your pencil to your chest, Bakugo smirked a few inches from your face. “Hey Nerd Number 2. What’s got you fucking moping?”

“Uh...I um…” You were completely tongue tied, heart pounding in your chest.

He just chuckled at you; you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or if you were about to be murdered. “I assume it has to do something about this?” 

Two yellow strips of paper were thrusted into your face, “Hero Origins Exhibit” written on them. You gasp and reach out for it to see if it was real. He rudely dangled them above your head, out of reach. 

“How’d you get that?!” You shouted. How on earth did he get two when you couldn't even get one?!

“I have my ways. I’ll give you them if you want...,” you nodded excitedly. “...but there is a price.”

Your eyes were locked on those tickets. Whatever it is, be it some gear or money, you’ll do it. If it means you and Izuku can go together to the museum. “What is it?”

He grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. “You go on a date with me to the museum.”

Your breath hitched for a second as your brain translated what he’d just said. Date?! “Huh? Me and you? But I promised that I’d go with Izuku…”

Bakugo leaned in more, his nose grazing against your cheek as his lips made their way to your ear, and huskily whispered, “Then don’t tell him. How about if you agree, I’ll make sure Deku and you can go to the museum together. He’ll never have to know.” He bit at your lobe and then kissed the sensitive skin underneath. A shiver went down your back as he kissed your neck between words. “You want to see him happy, right?”

“Just one date?” You were completely melting in the palm of his hand.

He hummed, nuzzling your hair. “Sure.”

“Okay…” You dreamily whispered. If this is how he treats you, maybe it won’t be that bad...

The moment you agreed, he let go of your face. You blinked at his receding back, awakened from the dream-like state his warmth had put you in. “Good. I’ll text you the details later. And don’t be fucking late.” He threw you one more smirk over his shoulder before leaving the Support Course classroom. What….what just happened?! The shocked look on your classmates’ faces was all the evidence you needed to prove that, yes, that did just happen.

~

“Kacchan, I can’t believe you got these! You’re amazing!” Izuku was practically squealing on the common room couch, holding the tickets in his hands. Bakugo was sitting beside him, an arm resting on the back of the couch behind the smaller boy,  bodies pressed right up against each other. 

Bakugo had been casually instigating more physical contact over the past year so Izuku didn't even bat an eyelash as he leaned in closer. “I know. Now about the price for them….” Bakugo pulled the tickets from Deku’s hands gently as he whispered into the nerd’s ear, making him blush deeply.

“Kacchan! You want what?! But I promised…” Izuku fidgets with his hands in his lap, mumbling and slowly falling into the depths of his mind.

Smirking, Bakugo firmly wraps his arm around Izuku’s shoulders, practically pulling the other boy into his lap. “Don’t worry, I know about your little nerd best friend. I got connections and I could get you two to the museum. If you make it worth my while, Nerd.”

Bakugo tried not to chuckle when he felt the nerd shiver; gotcha. Izuku held up a pinky to Bakugo shyly. “Okay, if you promise?”

“Of course. I’m not a fucking liar, Deku.” He links their pinkies together, pulling their hands to his face to kiss Izuku’s. 

He heard the nerd loudly swallow before launching to his feet. “Okay…okay. Deal, Kacchan! Thank you for this!” Bakugo watched his nerd escape to his dorm room with an amused and triumphant smile on his face.

Kaminari and Kirishima watched the entire situation play out, in complete disbelief. They walked over to Bakugo as he texted on his phone. Kaminari flipped himself onto the couch to sit beside the other blonde, looking to see he was texting you where to meet up on Saturday. “This can’t possibly go well.” Kirishima sighed from behind the couch, leaning on his elbows as he read the text as well. When did he become the voice of reason in this group?

“It’ll be fucking fine, Hair-For-Brains,” Bakugo snorted, waving a heart filled text from you up, bragging as Bakugo does.

Kaminari laughed, actually enjoying watching his bro finally make a move. Leaning back with his arms behind his head, the electric blonded asked, “How did you even manage to get tickets and they didn’t?”

“Easy. Bribe the cashier to tell them that they didn’t have any more tickets while I bought three.”

“So glad you are on the heroes’ side.”

~

You waited in front of the museum, messing with your hair and clothes every five seconds while looking at your reflection in a shop window. The girls in your dorm had helped you decide on your outfit. In fact, you’d pretty much had a miniature fashion show in your room. You sigh to yourself, mumbling, “What are you doing ___?” Going on a date with Bakugo Katsuki was not what you had planned.

If there was anyone you were more likely to go on  a date with, you’d expected it to be Izuku. Oh Izuku…he’s so sweet and the two of you can geek out on a whole other level together. You wish he was going to the museum with you. But Bakugo did promise that he’d make sure that you guys got to go together for going on this date….maybe it won't be so bad.

“___?”

Your head whipped over to the side. “Izuku?”

Izuku came over to you, wearing skinny jeans that you’d bought him and an open flannel shirt over one of his regular shirts that said, “t-shirt”. You swear one of these days, you are going to burn all those shirts and buy him a whole new wardrobe. “What are you doing here?”

“Simple, I invited you both here.” Bakugo strolled up to the two of you, smirking with his hands in his pockets. You and Izuku look back at each other, confused.

“Uh…but I thought….” You fiddled with your hands, not sure how to say it in front of Izuku. This is so embarrassing.

Izuku didn't hesitate though. “Isn’t this a date?”

Bakugo just smiled proudly. “You are right, this is a date. All three of us.”

“Huh?!” you both yelled in shock. 

He sighed, leaning in as he placed a hand on each of your shoulders. “Really, do I have to fucking spell it out? I like both your nerdy asses.”

“Kacchan, you should have just asked one of us out at a time if you were confused about—”

“Not confused. I just don't half-ass.” He spun both of you around, his arms resting around your shoulders as he steered all three of you towards the museum entrance. You were completely at a loss as Izuku looked like he was going to continue to protest. 

“If I chose one then I would only be able to give the relationship half of my attention since I’d still like the other. So I’m gonna sweep both of you off your nerdy-ass feet.” Bakugo left no room for argument. 

You looked back at Izuku, his face was as red as your face was hot. Both speechless, you were only able to go with the flow of Bakugo Katsuki.

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader x midoriya #bakugo katsuki x reader x midoriya izuku #poly relationship #bakugo knows what he wants

[not-close-to-straight]

Falling (Chapter Two)

Welcome back to the story! Lots of questions answered here and probably a few brought up, but I had the most fun recreating our faves for this verse and I am literally foaming at the mouth wanting to expand on their stories! 

FALLING MASTERLIST HERE

******************

“My arc reactor is gone, but I have the scars from Afghanistan.” Tony said the words slowly, clearly into the quiet of his guest bedroom as the sun came up the next morning. “I still look the same age, I still have the gray hair, I still have the bruises from trying to deal with Cap and Thor in the woods the other day. I have all my memories, including the ones I’d rather not, I still know all the words to Back in Black and Shoot to Thrill. I don’t have an arc reactor but that doesn’t mean I’m not me, I’m still me.” 

“It’s been at least thirty six hours since the wormhole.” he said next, running through the numbers in his head again, counting out the hours on his fingers just to have something solid to make note of. “Thirty six hours because Bucky and Steve who definitely aren't Captain America and a resurrected Sergeant Barnes found me in the later afternoon, then I slept through the night and most of yesterday, then spaced out again and slept all night.” 

‘Spaced out’ wasn’t the right word though, the right word was dropped and that sounded like sub-drop and that sounded like what used to happen the few times Tony had gone to that club downtown and had the sheer misfortune of ending up with a shitty Dom that left him vulnerable after a scene. 

The right word was dropped, and Steve and Bucky had helped Tony through it, Steve had actually gone down on his knees in front of Tony and held him and well, pigs must be flying, because Tony hadn’t ever thought he’d see Captain America on his knees. 

He’d never thought he’d see Steven Grant Rogers attempting to meet him on equal ground and similar footing much less kneeling at his side and offering comfort but then again, this Steve wasn’t really Captain America, was he?

“Ever since Thor arrived on Earth and his bratty fucking brother followed him, it's generally accepted that worm holes are passages, doors between realms or universes or whatever we want to call them.” Tony kept reciting facts, knowledge, filling the silence with things he knew to be true so he wouldn’t linger too long on all the what if’s. 

Everything was absolutely crazy right now but he was still Tony Stark, still a genius, he’d built computers as a damn toddler and took MIT by storm before he was even legal to drink. He could handle the science behind going into a wormhole above the Stark tower and coming out the other side into--

-- into this. 

“Even the ancient Greeks thought there were parallel or at least alternate universes.” Tony breathed in and then out, in and then out. “And then Schrodinger said hey, maybe it’s not parallel, maybe they are simultaneous and that makes sense in a quantum sort of way. Simultaneous universes. I went through the door out of my universe and into a door to a different one and this is all happening at the same time everything is happening back home.” 

“That makes sense.” He told himself again, and it made sense to Tony’s rational brain but it sure didn’t make sense to his emotions or his heart or his instincts that kept telling him to settle down and enjoy the change and to stop asking questions.

Now was not the time for his slightly hedonistic tendencies to make an appearance. Just cos he might be in an alternate, simultaneous reality with two figments right out of his unrealized wet dreams didn’t mean Tony should just lay back and accept it, right? 

Right?

“Good morning, beauty.” 

A part of Tony felt like he should be annoyed that neither Steve nor Bucky gave anything other than a warning rap at the door before they walked in. It was very Dom behavior, very ‘we do what we want in our house’ behavior and sure, that was valid but he still felt like he should be annoyed. 

But the thing was, he wasn’t annoyed. Even with the questions swirling round in his mind and the facts that didn’t add up enough to ease the incredulity of the situation, Tony wasn’t annoyed when Bucky came in holding a cup of coffee and a donut in one big hand, and he definitely wasn’t annoyed by the pleased smile on the brunettes face when he saw Tony sitting up already. 

Nope, not annoyed. Instead Tony was thrilled and exhilaration ran hot through his body when the Dominant set everything down and reached over to brush at his cheek, to tangle in his hair for a few seconds before letting go. 

“How are you, baby doll?” 

“Better than yesterday.” Tony’s breath hitched when Bucky pulled away, and the Dom nodded in understanding before sitting down next to him on the bed, budging up close until they were thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder. “Shit. Thanks. That’s um-- that’s good.” 

“Sure thing, sweet thing.” Bucky answered easily. “Anytime you need me, you just let me know okay? M’more than happy to sit here with you like this. Need me closer?” 

“No I think--” the Dom let his hand rest heavy and warm on Tony’s thigh and a ball of tension released in his chest, leaving him loose as he sagged into Bucky’s shoulder. “God, that’s good. Thank you.” 

“I’ve got you.” Bucky was quiet a moment, then cleared his throat. “Listen, Tony. You don’t have to tell us much of anything about your past if you don’t want, not right now and not even really anytime soon. But for our own safety and out of respect for anyone who holds your contract, I gotta ask. Are you not wearing a collar by choice, or because of something else?” 

“A collar.” Tony was a quick thinker, fast on picking up cues, faster with formulating bullshit and once he glanced at the thick ring on Bucky’s finger that matched what Steve wore, it took all of three seconds for him to realize that here Dominants wore rings and submissives… well submissives must wear collars. 

Ownership, right? Submission and control, collars and rings.

And if Tony wearing a collar was a normal, expected thing then that meant most people identified as either sub or Dom which meant society was more than likely built on constructs along the same lines which meant Tony had either hit his head really hard or the world was suddenly tilted or alternate or--

--or oh fuck, parallel. Wormholes and parallel places and new realities oh my. 

“I am not wearing a collar by choice.” he finally said, slowly and carefully as he thought about the easiest way to answer the unexpected question. “Not really my style. I don’t uh-- don’t have any other reason to not be wearing one. Nothing--” a quick glance at the Dom to read his expression and Tony finished, “-- traumatic. Just by choice.” 

“Okay. Good job, thank you telling me.” Bucky picked up Tony’s hand and kissed his knuckles and a nearly embarrassing shiver rippled through Tony’s body at the open approval. “I’m sure you know why it’s dangerous for us to have you here if another Dom has your contract. Don’t think you aren’t welcome to stay if you’re in some sorta trouble, but I needed to check before Stevie gets any ideas about keeping you--” 

“--keeping me?!” 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Bucky ordered mildly and just like that, Tony closed his mouth. “Thank you. You’re very sweet. Stevie already wants you to stay, but he always acts on his heart before his brain kicks in so someone’s gotta make sure everything’s alright first. That someone’s always me. You know one time I had to grab him by the damn belt to keep him from leaping out a window after some guy who stole a friends purse?” 

“I um-- I fully believe that.” Tony smiled a little. “Yeah, I find that perfectly believable.” 

“Stevie’s heart is good but his impulse control isn’t great.” Bucky smiled too, but it was fond and affectionate and halfway to smitten. “So. You don’t have a Dom then. No contract out there we’ll be prosecuted for breaking or tryna interfere with?” 

“No uh-- no contract.” Tony shook his head adamantly. “No Dominant. No.” 

“Okay then.” Bucky pressed at Tony’s hand one more time before straightening up off the bed. “Get dressed and come out to the living room and see what Steve is painting. You need to drink some juice, have some breakfast and then we’ll figure out what to do the rest of the day.” 

“Yes sir.” Tony said automatically and before he could think to take it back or even wonder where the hell it had come from, the Dom’s eyes flickered and a slow smile spread over Bucky’s face. 

“You got no idea how much I love hearing that, sugar.” he whispered and dropped a careful kiss on Tony’s forehead. “Fifteen minutes in the living room.” 

“...yes sir.” it came a little slower this time, but felt no less natural, no less right. “Fifteen minutes.” 

Steve was painting when Tony came out of the bedroom exactly fifteen minutes later, eyes narrowed in concentration as he worked a shade of purple into a canvas covered in blue and grays, brilliant orange in the middle and rolling clouds all around a column and--

“What is that?” Tony blurted before he could manage to stop himself, before the reminder to not interrupt his Dom-- a Dom-- this Dom-- came to mind. “What are you painting?” 

“Good morning, beauty.” Steve put the paintbrush down and swiveled in his chair to grin broadly at Tony, all focused intent and the sort of happiness Tony had never imagined seeing on Captain America’s face. “How did you sleep?” 

“Really good.” Tony felt the open welcome like sunshine against his skin, and he returned Steve’s smile as big as he could before asking again, “What are you painting?” 

“Don’t you remember a couple of months ago, that freak storm off the coast?” Steve went back to painting, picking up a small brush to dot silver through the lightning bolts. “Right here over Manhattan the weirdest clouds formed and everyone thought it was going to be a tornado and then it did this--”

He gestured to the painting, to the wormhole that looked an awful lot like the one that had opened above the Stark Tower and unleashed hell on Tony’s version of New York. “-- and the conspiracy theorists shrieked about wormholes and portals to different worlds, religious nuts screamed about Armageddon and the Anti Christ.” 

“Scientists decided it just an unusual event caused by rapid storm building and of a funnel cloud trying to form but there not being enough pressure to stabilize it or something like that.” Bucky interjected, pushing a cup of orange juice into Tony’s palm and not backing away until Tony took an obedient sip. “But Stevie thinks it's a path to a parallel world. A door in the sky.” 

“Really.” 

“Just think about it.” Steve insisted and the other Dom laughed at him, tipped his chin up for a quick kiss and then went to get his coat. “No Tony really! Think about it! Parallel or alternate universes. Simultaneous time lines or like.. mirrored existences. What ever you want to call them, there’s gotta be places out there where everything is the same except for one tiny detail, right? Multiple copies of existence where one thing is changed and that changes the whole world?” 

“Details like what?” Science Steve wasn’t a version Tony had thought to meet but the spark of excitement in the blue eyes sure was adorable. “What sort of things would be different?” 

“Me with a beard, maybe.” Steve said immediately. “Or Bucky as a pirate. Or one where it’s still some medieval time period and we’re knights. Mermaids. Something in space with aliens. One with--” 

“Stevie wants a universe for every one of his Halloween costumes!” Bucky called from the bedroom and Tony hid a laugh behind his hand when the blond Dom finished with a huff, “Or just anything different. That’s my point.” 

“Maybe world where people aren’t designated Dom and sub?” Tony suggested and Steve nodded quickly. “Because that-- that would be weird, right? An entire existence where you guys didn’t wear those rings and I didn’t feel like kneeling every time you so much as smile at me?” 

Bucky came back with his coat just in time to hear the comment, and the Doms exchanged a look Tony couldn’t quite read before Bucky asked, “You feel like kneelin’ for us, baby doll?” 

“I uh--” Tony’s hand went to his neck like he was missing something, maybe even something like a collar and Steve’s eyes lit in anticipation. “I um--” he coughed. “Well I think--” 

“Settle, sweetheart.” Bucky murmured after a moment of Tony stammering, and Steve agreed, “No rush, Tony.” 

“Right.” shit. “Thanks.” Tony sat with his juice in the chair Steve indicated, then glanced between them and asked, “Can I know about you two? I feel like you are both… familiar… but I can’t seem to place the names.” 

“You know us from the history books.” Steve began cleaning his brushes and missed the half panicked expression on Tony’s face. “Well not us but our Grandpas are pretty famous in military circles. We’ve got their names and Ma always said we were damn near doppelgangers for Gramps at enlistment age. You remember the old comic books about Captain America and the Howling Commandos?” 

“I’m vaguely familiar with them.” Tony nodded like his mind wasn’t trying to explode. “Yeah.” 

“Remember the stories about plucky sidekick Bucky Barnes?” Bucky added with a rueful smile. “All those comics were based on a super secret unit that kicked some serious Nazi ass back in the day. Captain Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes, fuckin’ rabble rousers where they grew up in Brooklyn, crack shots and All American Heroes once they suited up and shipped out. Those comics were basically propaganda, but hey, whatever helps the war effort, right?”

“So you are both named after… Grandpa?” Tony guessed. “Carried on the family name and hopefully the honor. But you aren’t soldiers.” 

“Grandpa Steve met and married Grandma Peggy.” Steve nodded and Tony sort of felt like he might pass out. Steve and Peggy got married? “Bucky’s Grandpa married Bonnie and they settled into the same neighborhood. Raised their kids together, and when the kids grew up and moved with their own family, me and Buck were always sent back for the summers.”

“You know how mowing giant yards with ancient push mowers and painting fences builds character, right?” Bucky rolled his eyes.“All it taught us to was get better at sneaking off to go swimming. That’s when we fell in love too, summer we were fifteen years old. Stevie’s scrawny ass was gorgeous even back then, so I sure I didn’t mind him stripping down to just skivvies to seduce me at the docks.”

“I wasn’t seducing you at the docks, it was ninety four degrees outside and I didn’t have a bathing suit!” Steve made an offended noise and Bucky only grinned. “Wasn’t like you objected anyway. Weren’t gonna let a thing like ‘Dom’s don’t contract with out a submissive’ stop you from putting a ring on my finger, huh?” 

“Nah, babydoll, I sure didn’t.” Their kiss was packed full of sheer adoration, and maybe Tony should have looked away but somehow he knew it was okay that he was watching. His Doms-- er, the Doms wouldn’t be talking about this sort of thing in front of him if they didn’t want him to see how good their love was.

“I teach art at the college and before Bucky’s accident he worked as the conditioning coach for the football team.” Steve said next, easing back from Bucky’s next kiss slowly. “Now he’s mostly benched but they pay him a hell of a lot to write up strategies and plays and run the try outs.”

“You’re an art teacher.” Tony repeated, and in some distant part of his mind he wondered why all the things he’d read about his Steve Rogers, nothing ever mentioned that he’d been an artist. Had anybody actually known the guy, or had he gotten lost behind the shield? “And Bucky-- how did you get hurt?” 

“Train accident.” Bucky rolled his shoulder and Tony’s eyes dropped to the few inches that were what remained of the Dom’s left arm. “We went upstate for a ten year anniversary celebration, figured we could just cuddle up in the sleeping car and watch the fall foliage roll by, but there was an engine issue and the train derailed. Not too bad of an accident all things considered. Stevie managed to get out with a few bumps and bruises, I ended up losing my arm.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve just got a bad track record with trains.” Bucky's smile was easy enough but Steve's eyes darkened in remembered pain. “I’m either getting food poisoning on school field trips, or getting stuck in the worst seat possible that time we took one through the Great Lakes.” 

He shrugged. “I’ve got a prosthesis but it’s heavy and makes a weird noise when I try to move my fingers so it’s better off left at home. And since Stevie doesn’t care about the one arm--” Bucky raised his eyebrows and Tony automatically shook his head, he didn’t care about the arm, he couldn’t imagine ever caring about something like that. 

“No harm no foul then.” The Dom shrugged again. “I’ve gotten used to it.” 

“I could help you with a new prostheses if you wanted.” Tony blurted out. “I’m pretty mechanical and I could design something really nice for you. Not a problem.” 

“Maybe another time, sugar.” Bucky winked and Tony blushed a little bit but his mind was already racing, already thinking up schematics and how hard would it be to convert the design of his suits arm pieces into a fully robotic prostheses and whether or not he could get the parts in whatever this version of the universe was…

“Tell us a little about you, Tony.”  Steve finally covered up the wormhole painting and set it away. “Last name? Where you’re from?”

“Oh I’m from Manhattan.” Tony said automatically, then corrected, “But I’ve spent the last few years in Malibu, found myself in the uh-- Middle East. For a bit. Went to Monaco for a while too. I like to travel and my work in… IT… lets me do that.” 

Both Doms made agreeable noises and Tony took in a quick breath before adding, “Last name is Stark. Tony Stark.”

His heart stuttered uncertainly when Bucky and Steve exchanged confused looks, and Bucky asked, “Stark. Why do we know that name?”

“Oh! Maria!” Steve snapped his fingers. “Pepper’s boss! Wasn't her husband’s last name Stark?”

“Right, Howard Stark.” Bucky nodded and then looked back at Tony. “Small word huh? You having the same name as Pepper’s old boss? You know who Maria Carbonell is?”

“Well uh—“

“No, he wouldn’t, not unless he’s involved in the art community or that scholarship they just set up in Howard’s memory.” Steve decided. “The only reason we know is her through Pepper, I don’t think the Dame Carbonell hangs out with regular IT guys very much.”

“Who—?” Tony wet his lips, feeling wholly unsteady over hearing several names he hadn’t expected to all in a few sentences. “Who is Pepper?”

“Pepper Potts.” Bucky supplied absentmindedly, as if the words didn’t make Tony’s heart clench in his chest. “You’ll meet her tonight at the gala. She runs Mrs Carbonell’s art charity auctions and since we’re friends, we all have to show up and pretend to bid on horribly overpriced art we could never afford.”

“And Pep--” God, Tony could hardly say it. “Pepper works for Mrs. Carbonell? What did you say about Mrs. Carbonell’s husband?” 

“Howard Stark.” Steve confirmed. “Passed away a few years ago, there was big states funeral cos he’d built a bunch of children’s hospitals and came up with a new treatment for leukemia. Pretty big deal. He was a good guy and all of Maria’s money sure made it easy for him to change the world.” 

“Oh yeah?” Tony’s throat closed up and he makes a mental note to look up more about his parents— about the Carbonell-Starks— later when he could do it without wanting to cry. “That’s good, that’s-- yeah. That’s good. So this gala thing you’re going to...”

“Yeah, sorry about that, honey. Pepper books us all a table every year and it makes her look bad if we don’t go.” Steve spread his hands apologetically. “Otherwise we’d skip and stay home with you, I promise.”

“Oh I’ll be fine by myself.“ Despite his reassurance, it made Tony feel warm, safe and maybe even a little cherished to know the Doms would rather stay home with him. It was nice to think he mattered beyond what he could provide a team, beyond what he paid for. He hadn’t contributed a damn thing to Steve and Bucky’s existence so far except drama and they still wanted to stay home with him. 

“I’ll be fine.” he said again, and tried not to sound like he hated the idea. “I’ll probably just sleep.”

“You’ll come with us.” It wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was an order and even Steve looked briefly surprised at Bucky's tone. “We always have an extra seat in case Clint manages a date, but this year you’ll have it.”

“...Clint.” No way. “And who is Clint?” 

“You’ll meet everyone tonight.” Bucky shoved his keys into his coat pocket “But Clint’s the only other sub in our group of friends, so you two will get along fine. Stevie, take Tony shopping for new clothes, I think Pep said the theme was red and gold? Make sure you get the right colors.” 

“Yeah, Buck.”

“I love you.” Bucky pressed a long kiss to the other Dom’s mouth then squeezed at Tony’s hand. “I’ll see you both soon, I want you home before four thirty so we have time to get ready together.”

“Yes sir.” Tony said, and then, “Oh wait, I have money. I can buy my own things.” ...so long as the presidents are the same...? 

“We’ll buy your clothes.” Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“No seriously, I’m pretty sure I have enough to—“ Steve’s eyebrows about met his hairline when Tony started to argue and he nearly choked on the words as his throat closed up. 

Note to self, it’s basically biologically impossible to argue with my  a Dominant. 

Further note to self, I don’t want to argue with my Dom. 

“I mean, you don’t have to do that.” Tony tried again. “I have money and I don’t need a chaperone to shop. I don’t want to cause any trouble.” 

There, there’s a sentence he’d literally never said in his life.

“You’re no trouble ever, Tony. And we can afford to take care of you, so we will.” Damn Steve was Dominant and a thrill of pleasure raced down Tony’s spine. “And you don’t want to be alone, so I won’t leave your side.”

“Is it... obvious I don’t want to be alone?” By habit, Tony’s hand went to his hair to make sure it was in place, to his clothes to smooth them down. What had happened to his armor, to his persona, to his Tony Starkness?

 “Sugar, it’s all right there in your eyes for anyone who cares to look.” Bucky said quietly. “You need to be held, you don’t want to be alone, and you’re just about desperate for someone to take care of you. And anyone who misses out on what a pretty sub like you needs is a damn fool.”

Oh.

“We don’t plan on being a fool bout you, Tony.”

Oh there was his armor, crumbled in pieces on the floor along with the rest of his misgivings about this world.

“... yes sir.” Tony whispered faintly. “I-- yeah. You could take me shopping.” 

And Bucky only smiled over at Steve, then leaned in to kiss the beautiful sub gently gently. 

“Good boy.” 

************

************

Tony had made a point of not really walking next to Steve back in New York--er, back in his New York. It wasn’t that the super soldier had made him feel small, which was sort of true, or that that particular Steve had a way of talking that made you feel looked down on, which was also true, or even that Tony had some small man complex he couldn’t seem to overcome and Steve made it obvious. 

No, Tony had made a point of not getting too close to that Steve because even though Captain America had long been his hero, there’d been a part of him that always resented the bastard for swooping in and stealing all of Howard’s interest years before Tony had the chance to try for himself.

He’d never measured up to Steve in Howard’s eyes, never was the man Captain America had been, hadn’t shown the courage tiny Steve Rogers had showed by being willing to do everything for his country. 

Tony hadn’t ever measured up, and he’d been born already losing at a competition he’d never wanted and walking next to the Captain on the heli-carrier with his disapproving sighs and blatant irritation had brought all those feelings roaring back to the surface. 

Forty something years old and Howard still managed to make him feel like shit. 

But walking next to this Steve felt good. The big blond was so Dom-- and okay, the word was a little weird on Tony’s tongue but the more he thought it, the better it felt. Steve was so Dom that people parted when they walked down the sidewalk, the other submissives batted their eyes lashes and touched neutral white collars at their neck in an open flirt. 

In some cases, the bolder submissives touched royal blue collars which Tony quickly figured out meant they were contracted. And judging by the jealous and almost angry looks the ring wearing Dominants cast their way, the flirting submissives were carrying on right in front of their partner and... well yikes. 

But not all looks their way were angry, more than once a passing Dominant’s eyes slid to Tony’s neck and eyebrows raised over the lack his collar before an encouraging smirk tilted their lips. The third or fourth time it happened Steve simply cleared his throat and slipped an arm around Tony’s waist, met the next Dom’s eyes head on and tipped his head back in a clear challenge.

The Dom put a hand over his heart in what Tony could only figure was a show of respect, and moved right on. 

“I don’t mind them staring.” Tony said softly once it was just them again. “It’s weird that I don’t wear a collar, of course they would look. It’s fine.”

“Dominants know better than to leer at another Dom’s sub.” Steve answered lightly, but his grip at Tony’s side tightened. “Doesn’t matter if you’re wearing a collar or not. You’re at my side, they need to respect that.” 

And then after a moment, “Can’t say I blame ‘em though, I’d stare if a sub like you was walking around uncollared. Can’t help but hope.” 

Can’t help but hope. It was clear approval from the Dom, a compliment on Tony’s looks and apparently how good of a sub he was and Tony had to swallow the urge to practically purr, so he coughed and changed the subject. 

“So you and Bucky. Both Doms but contracted together.” 

“Why do you ask?” Steve steered Tony into a store that looked and felt and was designed like Macy’s but just wasn’t quite Macy’s. Parallel universes, amiright?

“Just cos sometimes you seem a little--” Tony searched for the right word so he wouldn’t offend the Dom unintentionally. “--I mean it seems like Bucky is a little more--” don’t say subby. “-- Are you a switch?” 

There, that was a word Tony remembered from his brief and less than satisfying foray into the Dom/sub scene back home. Switch. 

“Are you a switch?” he asked again. “Because the way you are with Bucky sometimes…” 

“In the most technical sense you could say I was a switch.” A firm hand at the small of Tony’s back had him turning towards the dress clothes. “But I’m all Dom, Tony. Even when I was tiny and scrappy, I was a Dom. Even years after contracting with Bucky. What I do with Bucky has nothing to do with my biology and everything to do with the ways we need each other sometimes.” 

“So…” Tony stopped when Steve did, and tapped at a shirt in his size so the Dominant could pick out an appropriate color. This wasn’t really new, Pepper had always picked out all his clothes so it wasn’t even a submissive thing to let Steve do the shopping, more of a fully bored with clothes thing. “So you are both Doms but you sub for him occasionally?” 

“When one of us needs it.” 

“Does Bucky ever need to sub?” 

“No.” Steve held up two shades of red and then tossed the lighter one aside. “He needs submission, some times I need to submit. Two different needs that we can fill for each other because we love each other. We complete each other.” 

“Huh.” Tony’s heart sank a little and he tried not to think about why. “So um--”

“You’re asking because you don’t see how you would fit into our lives.” Steve stated rather than guessed and Tony blinked at him in surprise. “You don’t see how a full submissive like you could compete with the bond Bucky and I already have, and if I’m willing to be submissive every once in a while, you don’t see why you’d be needed.” 

“Well I mean…” Tony let the words trail off into a helpless gesture. He had thought about how he would fit in with these two Dominants, how he’d fit into all the dynamics of this world, but Steve made it sound like he and Bucky had already decided Tony fit just fine. 

And that was-- that was nice but it was also a matter for maybe later cos right now all Tony could think about was his version of Steve and how tortured the Captain had seemed, how withdrawn and tense like he couldn’t even breathe. 

If his universe’s Steve and Bucky had been more like this Steve and Bucky and not Cap and Sarge like all the propaganda said, maybe that’s why Steve had seemed like he was grieving, why he was cold and distant. 

Bucky balanced him, saved him, gave him the freedom to just be Steve and then the Captain woke up and didn’t have anyone. 

Steve hadn’t had anyone and Tony had Rhodey and Pepper but he’d began pulling away from them too, losing himself in Iron Man and the spiraling reality he’d flung himself into and maybe that’s why Steve had picked up the shield again, maybe it was the same reason Tony had flown up and up into the wormhole and thought dying would be easy because after losing everything and feeling like your grasp on reality was slipping, maybe dying was the easiest thing to do.

Maybe Captain Rogers had picked up the shield hoping this time would be the last time.

“Easy easy.” Tony didn’t realize he’d gone sad and quiet until Steve was cupping his jaw and leaning in to press their foreheads together. “Settle down, sweetheart. Come back to me.” 

“I’m-- I’m here.” Tony grabbed on to Steve’s wrist and squeezed and the Dom breathed out a pleased sigh. “Sorry, I just--” 

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Steve shook his head. “Just come back to me. Tell me what you were thinking.” 

“I was thinking--” about you. About Bucky. About my other life. About Pepper and Rhodey and how I’d been so willing to die because I knew everything would be fine without me. “I was thinking about how hindsight is twenty twenty and wishing I’d seen a few more things before it was too late and--” 

“Grandma Pegs always said that just cos hindsight is clear doesn’t mean we have to feel guilty about the things we didn’t see.” The Dom was so solid, and Tony leaned in further, let the blond take his weight. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling bad bout something? Not now baby, not when we’re havin’ fun together.” 

“No, no it’s just--” 

“Never mind, then.” There was a layer of steel in Steve’s voice that settled the issue, no room for argument, no need to explain and for once in his life Tony didn’t take the chance to argue, to insist on finishing his point. 

Written right in your eyes for anyone who cares to look, Bucky had said and maybe it meant that instead of seeing hesitancy as weakness like Howard had, like the press had, like Obadiah had, maybe Steve saw Tony’s hesitancy as uncertainty and a little bit of fear and a whole lot of regret. 

Never mind sounded like a brush off from someone that didn’t care but from Steve it sounded like a solution, like a relief, like forgiveness and like a rescue. 

Never mind. 

“Thank you.” Tony whispered and the Dominant smiled and dotted a kiss on his nose before pulling away again. 

“So you’ll meet Pepper and Clint tonight, and you’ll most likely get to meet Thor.” Steve changed the subject and Tony was grateful for it but then his mind skipped to uhhhh what demigod now?

“Thor?” he asked and incredibly, Steve motioned to a poster hanging in the men’s underwear section and yep, there was Thor. Big as life and damn near naked, hair in intricate braids to his waist and arms tattooed up in Nordic designs, an axe slung over his shoulders and a hammer sized bulge in his barely there briefs and...and… honestly what in the hell?

“Yeah, we met him at our gym and became friends.” Steve went back to picking out shirts for Tony. “But then someone took a picture of him working out and next thing we know he’s getting modeling contracts offered from a bunch of different companies and now I can’t even buy socks without having an almost naked Thor grinning at me.” 

“What-- how-- I--I--” Tony didn’t want to be gaping at the God of Thunder’s thighs but he also didn’t really want to stop. “You’re friends with him?” 

“You know, Bucky gives me hell when I look at Thor’s posters too long, wait till he hears you prefer your Dom’s lumberjack-y too.” Steve cracked a grin and for the first time in a very long time, Tony blushed scarlet clear to his ears. “I think you’ll have to settle for clean cut and All America with us, sweetheart. We don’t channel Viking God Wood Cutter quite as convincingly.” 

“It’s the hammer.” Tony said faux seriously. “It really emphasizes his um-- his personality.” 

“That’s what I tell Bucky!” Steve crowed and Tony laughed out loud and Steve laughed out loud and it was the first time Tony had laughed in so long he’d almost forgotten how good it felt. 

But then the Dom hooked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in with a murmured, “Pretty sub, your laugh is gorgeous.” and oh suddenly that was much better than just laughing. 

“I like your laugh too.” Tony admitted, realizing first that he’d never heard Captain America laugh, and second that Thor’s hammer was making him feel ridiculously subby for entirely un-Dom related reasons. “But we should move on before I consider going to dinner with Thor and not you and Buck.” 

“The hell you will.” Steve was still grinning but his eyes sparked possessively, and his hand slid down to clasp the back of Tony’s neck. “We aren’t letting you go, sweetheart. Not any time soon.” 

“Yes sir.” Tony breathed and the Dom left the softest possible kiss on his lips. 

“Good boy.” 

**************

**************

“This shirt looks great on you.” Bucky finished buttoning up his own dress shirt and then moved to finish doing up Tony’s too. It seemed so natural for the Dom to help that Tony didn’t even blink when Bucky pushed his hand away and threaded the buttons himself one handed. “I like the gold stripes baby doll, makes your eyes sparkle real pretty.” 

“Yeah, Steve said it was the best one.” Too focused on breathing in the Dom’s cologne and studying the fine lines in Bucky’s brow, Tony forgot to cover his chest and when Bucky’s breath caught sharp and stunned, he realized his mistake. 

“Oh wait--” he made a belated movement to cover the thin material of his undershirt and the scars showing beneath, but Bucky shook his head and raised his voice, “Steve? Stevie!” 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Tony had only a moment to internally laugh about how even this Steve preferred to wear red white and blue before the other Dom was in his space too as Bucky pulled Tony’s undershirt aside to show him the scars. “Sweetheart, what happened?” 

“I got hurt.” Tony waited for the old defensiveness to rise up bitter in his throat, the shame and embarrassment that followed anytime anyone got an inadvertent look at his chest. 

Sure without the arc reactor he didn’t look quite so alien but there was no denying he’d been torn apart and sloppily stitched back together. The scars were thick and still raised after a few years, scattering out across his sternum like shrapnel, centered ugly over his heart where the damage had been the worst.  

It was ugly and he waited to get defensive or want to curl up and hide but it-- it didn’t happen. Tony didn’t feel the need to run, or cover up or even explain because Steve wasn’t staring at the scars he was staring at Tony, searching his eyes for-- for something and apparently finding it because the big blond murmured hoarsely, “Oh no, honey. Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

“Damn sugar.” Bucky swallowed hard and held onto Tony’s shirt tight while Steve spread a careful hand over the scars. “Looks like someone broke your heart real bad, huh?” 

“...you could say that.” 

“Don’t worry.” the Dom finished softly,. “We’re never going to let that happen again. You’re safe with us. Promise.” 

“Okay.” Tony closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of Steve’s palm, stuttered through an uncertain breath when Bucky kissed his temple.“...okay.” 

****************

****************

“Bucky! Steve!” 

Somehow, Pepper was even more gorgeous in this universe, every inch as perfectly put together as always, hair like sunset and eyes like emeralds and a smile Tony hadn’t realized how much he missed until it was fully focused on him as Pepper gave him a quick once over. 

“My oh my, Clint will be thoroughly jealous you two managed to bring the prettiest date in the city!” Pepper touched the ring on her finger that marked her as Dominant-- honestly, no surprises there-- and then raised her eyebrows pointedly at Bucky and Steve. “Introduce me and allow me to say hello?” 

Tony had never heard Pepper ask for permission a day in her life, in fact lately it had seemed like he was the one asking permission for things and being told lovingly, exasperatedly, “No, Tony.”

He’d never heard her ask for permission and he expected it to sting like a bolt to the chest to see the woman he loved up close and in person in this place, to see her in a world where he didn’t exist and she was apparently thriving, stunning and smiling and Tony expected it to hurt. 

But it didn’t, because nothing about the last few days had hurt in the least, so when Bucky and Steve both wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him in, Tony only smiled and waited for the introduction of, “This is Tony and he is with us. Sweetheart, this is Pepper Potts.” 

“Tony.” Pepper didn’t reach to shake his hand or move to kiss his cheek like his Pepper had done so many times before. Instead she put her hand over her heart and dipped her head in acknowledgment, and since Tony had seen a collared submissive do the same as they’d walked through the doors, he inclined his head as well.

Steve turned into kiss his temple and murmured, “Good boy. Thank you.” while Bucky just smiled in approval and Tony tried not to flush from the praise.

“Lovely.” the pretty Dom decided, talking to Steve and Bucky again, though she sent a thoroughly smitten look Tony’s way. “Absolutely stunning in fact. What a darling submissive. Tony, if your Doms allow it, I’d very much like to sit near you at dinner, I think the two of us could be great friends.” 

“I think the two of us could be great friends too.” Tony echoed and Pepper’s smile stretched wide and gorgeous before she saw someone else she knew and with a quick wave, hurried away on those sky high heels.

“She’s nice.” the sub whispered thickly. “Have you known her long?”

“We used to be neighbors in the same apartment building.” Bucky explained as he pointed out their table. “Worked the same schedule so half the time we got home all together. She works with the art foundation so she spent some time at the university and since we were neighbors she made sure Steve’s department got extra money.” 

“She’s not usually this stiff either.” Steve pointed out. “Real rich folks tend to hold onto all the Old World dynamics like not talking to subs and being formal with Doms and even though we attend this stuff every year, it still weirds me out.”  

“Once she gets to the table with everyone, she’ll settle down though.” Bucky pulled out Tony’s chair and motioned for the sub to sit, then pulled out a chair for Steve too. “The menu is set for tonight but I’ll get you both drinks. Tony, water to start and then you can have whatever you’d like.” 

“Yes sir.” 

Water was a good choice, because Tony would have actually died inhaling straight whiskey when Thor showed up at their table complete with booming voice and eyes that still flashed like lightning and a suit that cost at least three thousand dollars stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. 

And then there was Natasha, as wicked and mysterious as always in a dress more leather than cloth, the ring on her finger carved into a black widow’s hour glass. In this place she ran both a club for Dom’s looking for a night of anonymous release, and a safe haven for submissives who needed a place to stay and judging by the looks she got from both Doms and subs alike as she crossed the room, the redhead was well known for it too.

“We’re pretty sure she’s killed bad Dom’s before.” Steve muttered under his breath while Tony tried hard not to stare as the intimidating Dominant burst out laughing at whatever Thor said. “They come to her club, next thing we know a submissive is at a safe house and a Dominant with a history of abuse has gone missing.” 

“No one does anything about it?” Tony whispered and the Dom whispered back, “Would you?” 

Tony shook his head and Bucky picked up his hand to kiss his knuckles, and the conversation moved on. 

Clint was a submissive, hilarious and sweet, blond and gorgeous and came running around the table and dodged Steve and Bucky to shove a kiss right onto Tony’s lips, bending down from a shocking height of nearly six foot four and then laughing when Tony tapped curiously at the polka dot band-aid at his nose. 

“Yeah, I’m not one of those pretty, graceful submissives like you are.” Clint shook his hand animatedly. “I walked into a door at Tasha’s the other day, she needs to stop making things to her height, damn Dom is practically an elf.” 

Natasha laughed and then snapped her fingers and Clint dropped into the seat right next to her, clearly happy with the woman he’d chosen as his, and Tony couldn’t help cataloging all the behaviors, all the same patterns and jokes and the way this Natasha and Clint acted like his Natasha and Clint and hindsight--were his two in love too? 

Bruce Banner looked all the same, but he had to stop and sign autographs as he crossed the ball room and once again Tony was grateful for water when Bucky casually mentioned, “Doc has got something crazy like seven Ph.D’s but on the weekends he does that theatrical wrestling, you know? You ever heard of Doctor Hulk? That’s him when he’s not in the ring.” 

“Doctor Bruce Banner wears tights and unitards and does scripted TV Wrestling on the weekends.” the sub said doubtfully. “Really?” 

“Doctor Hulk!” someone called and Bruce turned and flexed, growled “Hulk Smash!” and that corner of the room erupted into laughter. 

“Oh my god.” 

But then there was Rhodey, and real tears came to Tony’s eyes when Steve introduced him as “Colonel James Rhodes, formerly of the United States Air Force, currently one of the top stunt pilots in the world and clearly the snappiest dresser among us.” 

“Yeah yeah, shut the hell up.” The Colonel set down a flamboyantly decorate helmet, then raised his arms to show off his obnoxiously patriotic uniform. “I had to fly here from Vegas after a show and since Pep’s already gonna have my head for not wearing the color theme, maybe you don’t test my patience, Stevie.” 

{Rhodey’s outfit, Courtesy of Oceans 13 ‘Basher’ because I just couldn’t help myself}

“Aw c’mon Rhodes.” Bucky leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I think those leather pants look right nice on you.” 

“Better on my ass than yours, Bronco.” James shot back, and then with a look towards Tony, “Well well. This one looks like trouble.” 

“You don’t even know me!” Tony protested past the lump in his throat and the Dom retorted teasingly, “Yeah but you’re sitting between these two! Trouble!” 

Everyone jeered and hollered and joined in on the ribbing and Tony sat back and let it all wash over him. 

He’d never had this, never had so much fun with the group of people called the Avengers. He had never hurt himself laughing over Clint’s jokes or seen Pepper blush the way she did when Natasha accused James of stealing the pants from Pepper’s closet, and when Tony slipped up and called the Colonel Rhodey, Thor slammed his whiskey glass downed and boomed, “He shall be called Rhodey!” 

The evening was noisy and the evening was fun and Tony’s mouth hurt from grinning, his eyes hurt from blinking back tears every time Rhodey got snarky and Pepper sighed in exasperation, and every time Steve or Bucky leaned in to whisper in his ear Tony let himself slip a little closer to their sides until he was surrounded by warmth. 

“Are you alright, sweet thing?” Bucky asked when the final course was cleared and dessert showed up at their table. “I know this group can be a lot, and it’s been a tough few days for you.” 

“No.” Tony whispered. “No, this is fine, this is fine, I’m okay.” 

And it was okay, because everything about this evening was amazing. 

This was Tony’s entire world right here at the table. Things were a little different sure, but all the best parts were here and more importantly, all the best parts of his entire world were smiling and talking and teasing each other and teasing him. The world wasn’t ending via wormhole and aliens and Pepper wasn’t crying because of Tony again, Rhodey was trading stunt pilot stories with Clint who was apparently circus-y in this world and Thor was tossing back shots with Natasha and Bucky and Steve...

...well Steve’s hand never left Tony’s thigh, rubbing warm and solid circles just firm enough to let him know he was there. And Bucky wove his fingers into Tony’s hair then let his palm rest heavy at the base of Tony’s neck and the sub didn’t even have to think for a second about dropping his head back and closing his eyes. 

Tony missed the knowing looks around the table when Steve pressed a kiss to his pulse point, he missed the way Pepper smiled in approval when Bucky bent close to whisper how good Tony was being in a hushed sort of tone meant for lovers, meant for partners, meant for Doms and subs.

”You wanna go home, sweet thing?” Bucky murmured and Tony shook his head. 

“Not yet.” he covered Steve’s hand with his own where it rested on his leg. “No this is fun, I don’t want to leave yet.” 

“We’ll stay as long as you want.” the other Dom decided. “So long as you’re happy, honey.” 

“I’m happy.” Tony looked around the table again, lingering on Clint’s blond hair and Bruce’s sort of hilariously high pitched laugh now that he was four drinks in. “Yeah. This is good. I don’t want to leave.” 

Bucky kissed his cheek and went back to talking with Thor, Steve signaled for another round of drinks and moved to wind his arm around Tony’s waist and Tony sat there and drank it all in...

...and kept thinking if he could design heaven, maybe it would look an awful lot like this right here.

*****************

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*****************

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#ncts fics #stuckony #stucky #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #dom/sub

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Interrogation, Part One

Also known as Jake and The Real Bad Week, Part One. Directly follows Come Back. I’ll alternate these with Chris, so you get an idea of what’s happening to both at about the same time. 

CW: Violent beating, electric shock, references to past noncon to another person, institutional brutality, pet whump setting, box boy setting, referenced past domestic abuse

Tagging @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp (@stxck-fxck, it won’t let me tag you!)

“You know,” Jake says, feeling blood thick on his tongue, “usually for something to be considered interrogating, you have to ask a fucking question.” He spits off to the side, trying not to think about the copper taste, the pinkish saliva on the floor. 

“Thanks for telling me how to do my job,” The guy says. He’s older, has a blocky face with a rough-cut jawline, looks like the kind of guy you call the muscle in a movie. His hair is a light sandy blond, graying with age. Could be late forties, early fifties. Could be younger and just lived kind of a shitty life. 

“Well, you haven’t done it so far, so I figured, maybe you just need the help.” Jake keeps his voice low, almost calm, although anger boils in his veins, alongside worry. This is what his mother always told him would happen, if he kept getting deeper into the movement. If you stick your neck out for somebody, Jake, sooner or later someone else is going to come cut your head off.

Fuck if he cares. Somebody has to stick their necks out for the rescues.

Jake thinks of Chris the night he came, the shivering boy with his hair plastered to his head in the rain, silent and with his hands always in tight fists, held perfectly still, at his side. Wide green eyes, rainwater running down his face like tears. Wrapped in a blanket and wearing nothing but a loose pair of nearly-sheer pants that rain had made stick to his legs. Nat, speaking in hurried half-whispers with Vince, who had picked the boy up from some woman he knew and brought him here in the dead hours of the night.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know anything. His captor called him Baldur. 

Jake thought of taking one look at the delicately wrought, beautiful face and thinking, there’s no fucking way you were eighteen when they found you.

The guy cracks his knuckles. Jake doesn’t flinch.

“I’ve asked you enough questions,” The guy says, kicking out a chair like he’s going to sit, but he doesn’t. “Jakob Collins Stanton-… Collins is a weird middle name.”

“Mother’s maiden name,” Jake shrugs, as best he can. “Mom’s from the South, they do that down there.”

“Hm. My people are Southern, too.” 

“Must be where you get all this fuckin’ hospitality.”

The guy’s fist cracks across his cheekbone and Jake groans, but feels a weird sense of victory, anyway. Pissed you off, nyah nyah, sing-songs a bratty little voice somewhere inside his had. 

“So,” The guy says, like nothing happened. “Jakob Stanton, Junior at the university, but you’re, what, mid-twenties?”

“Non-traditional.”

“Can’t blame you. College is a fucking money-sink these days. Better off going into a business like mine.”

“What, law enforcement?”

There’s a pause. Then, “Yes,” The guy says. Jake raises his eyebrows. “Anyway. You’ve been working at this shelter for… let’s see here… two years. How’d you meet Natalie Yoder, anyway? She’s a known dangerous entity.”

Nat, wild-haired in her housecoat and pajamas, screaming obscenities at the cops to make sure the sounds were loud enough to cover the sound of Jake getting Chris safely hidden in the false-backed closet. The sound of someone slapping her, and the way it didn’t even slow her down.

The red marks on her face when they’d loaded her into the back of one squad car and Jake into the back of the other.

The relief on her face when no one came out of the house with Chris. The way Jake’s pounding heart had leapt, seeing the officers empty-handed, knowing that it meant Chris had understood, had stayed hidden, silent, safe.

Jake closes his eyes, hoping, praying someone will find him and help him. Chris can’t be on his own, not yet, he doesn’t have any of the skills. They hadn’t had time to work on adult life skillsets, yet, just getting him settled, letting him remember what it was like to live in his own skin again. 

Please, please don’t leave the house. Please be safe there. Please, please, please, Chris. I’m coming back for you. They can’t hold me forever.

Please. You deserve someone who keeps their promises, please let me keep my promise to you.

Please let me be able to.

“Yeah, lady who runs a homeless shelter and volunteers at a fucking soup kitchen, she’s a real menace to society,” Jake says dryly.

“You know damn well I’m not talking about her volunteer work. She’s been on our radar for… oh, ten, fifteen years?” 

“Whose?”

The guy stills, then. “What?”

Jake stares into the guy’s flat gray eyes. “Whose radar, man? Whose radar is Nat on? Whose radar picked me up?”

The guy looks at him for another long moment, then looks down at the papers littered across the table. There’s one of those mirrors along the wall, where people on the other side can see you but you can’t see them, but Jake doesn’t think anyone is watching. They’ll want plausible deniability, they’ll want no one to have seen him getting the shit kicked out of him by some asshole on a low-level power trip.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t give a fuck. You don’t ask the questions here.” The guy slides a slim manila folder out from underneath the other scattered papers. Jake’s eyes scan the front, where someone has handwritten 223499. The number means nothing to him, beyond a simple certainty that there’s a Box Boy or Box Babe in that folder.

Antoni? Leila? Krista? Chris? Kauri? Could be any of them. Could be one of the others that’ve moved on or moved out. Transitioned back into the lives they deserve, not the cages they’d been locked up in, so WRU could convince them they signed up to suffer.

“‘You don’t ask the questions here’,” Jake mocks him, knowing he’s treading a delicate line, but his palms are starting to sweat and his face hurts and he’s fucking had it with this. “What is this, a movie? Jesus, do they feed you lines to learn at the Academy, or…?”

The guy laughs, a dry, mirthless chuckle. He keeps his fingertips on the folder, then straightens his spine and stands back straight, looking at Jake. “Does it matter? It’s true, cliché or not.”

“Look. I get that you’re enjoying yourself, but I’m more than a little bit over this. Just let me leave, you don’t have shit.” Jake’s been here for hours, and he’s fucking exhausted running on the like three and a half hours of sleep he’d gotten before the raid. He’s got class on Tuesday, he needs someone to take notes since apparently he’s going to be in fucking jail.

Well, unless they have nothing, the way he thinks they do.

“How do you know if we have something on you or not?” The guy asks, his voice low, but genuinely curious. The silence stretches out between them.

Something is off about this.

“What are you charging me with?” Jake asks, watching cautiously as the older man shifts back, steps casually around the table. Jake’s eyes follow his movements. His hands are zip-tied behind him, and he keeps feeling the hard edge of the plastic rubbing against his wrists. It’s starting to hurt, and he’s sure that’s the whole idea of leaving him like this. 

Well, his wrists can join the parade of everything else that already hurts, it’s a club now, and his throbbing, burgeoning black eye is the current reigning president. 

“Whatever we want,” The guy replies, and Jake snorts, then winces as that aggravates whatever happened to his nose on the last punch. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely pissed, and probably his nose is as responsible for the taste of blood in his mouth as biting his tongue is. He can feel something running down the back of his throat, making him clear his throat and cough. Could b blood.

“Well, that tells me something,” Jake says, sitting slowly back in the seat, looking up at the guy. “You’re not a fucking cop, are you?”

It’s a shot in the dark. Just a hunch, something that itches between his shoulder blades. Something about the way the guy moves, the way his uniform doesn’t look quite the same as the other cops, like it’s old-fashioned or something. 

Something about the way the cop looks at him, not like a cop looking at a suspect, more like a butcher looking at a cow and figuring how much he’s going to pay to cut it up.

The guy goes still, before he laughs that dry little rumbling cackle again, and it’s all the answer Jake needs and definitely not the answer he wants. Because if he’s not a cop…

“I know what you are.” Jake’s voice goes nearly breathless, something not quite like panic. Deeper than that is the anger.

Finally, I get to see one of you fuckers face to face.

“And what,” The guy asks, rolling his sleeves up, a carefully practiced gesture of intimidation that makes Jake wonder if he does this in the mirror every morning just to be impressed with himself. “… is that?”

“You’re one of them.”

“Them?” The guy’s gray eyes, flat and lifeless, are on his again. Jake smiles, blood smeared wet across his teeth. Got you.

“You’re WRU.” Jake laughs, then coughs a little and spits more blood from his tongue onto the floor. “You’re fucking Facility assholes. Fucking handler. What, you paid the cops off to raid a fucking halfway house for homeless kids? Jesus, does no one actually sign up willingly? Is this how you get ‘em, you fucks with your goddamn bullshit about changing your life circumst-”

The backhand slams into the side of his face and Jake’s head snaps to the side, his body moving with it, and without his hands he can’t stop himself and he crashes to the ground on his side, head bouncing off the floor with a sickening crack, the chair he was sitting in clattering down after him.

But he’s still kind of laughing, through pain and the air that’s been knocked out of his lungs. What are the fucking odds, huh? He’s been training for cops, for law enforcement helping prop up a shitty system because the government makes the laws and we follow the laws, but that’s the thing, sometimes the laws are bullshit and leave hurting, fucked up, terrified people scattered around in their wake.

And sometimes people like Jake can see it happening.

Stick out your neck, Jake, and the cops’ll find out and cut your head off. This isn’t your fight.

Well, it sure as fuck is now, isn’t it?

He can’t stop laughing, now, because they made him practice how to talk to cops, but nobody ever figured he’d have to deal with a goddamn handler, assholes brainwashing kids like cult leaders into losing their memories, their lives, their independence, their personalities, burying it all under a wall of pain and drugs and fear.

Why didn’t he train for handlers?

Jake laughs, and spits more blood on the floor. Then he laughs some more.

“Shut up. Just keep your fucking mouth shut,” The guy growls at him, and Jake’s head pounds alongside all the other pieces of him, the pain that stitches him together. He’s a puzzle made of aches, and that has him laughing, too. What doesn’t make him laugh, right now? What doesn’t?

The kick of a steel-toed boot to his stomach definitely cuts the sound off, at least, and Jake lets out a low grunt of pain, curling in on himself trying to protect the soft parts, but the guy isn’t interested in kicking his organs, at least not now. He rights the chair and drags Jake back up into it. A fist slams into his face, and then it happens again, and again. 

Jake’s head hangs low, and he’s barely going to be able to see out of one of his eyes tomorrow, but he’s getting the feeling that’s the least of his problems.

“You’re right,” The guy says, and takes a seat across the table, calm as can be. He slides the manila folder across, spins it around so it’ll be right side up when Jake looks at it. Jake stares down, then slowly raises his eyes back up. The guy’s a bit blurred, now, and the pain is a constant of agony through his body. 

Vince has some fake teeth, from what Kauri’s owner did to him when they were kids. Jake wonders idly if Vince will pay for Jake to get some teeth replaced, since this guy’s going to knock some of them out if he keeps this up much longer. 

“I’m not with the cops. They’re going to charge you with resisting arrest-”

“Oh, fuck that bullshit,” Jake says, and his lower lip is swelling, the words are slurred more than he likes between that and his bitten tongue. “I didn’t resist shit.”

“They had to throw you into a wall,” The guy says, calmly.

“You did that!”

“Not on the paperwork, I didn’t, and you sure as fuck can’t prove otherwise. Oh no, you kicked up a fuss, as they say. That’s gonna get you a nice hefty fine.”

Jake thinks of Vince and Nat arguing, some nights, when the movie star stops by to be a fucking nuisance. I don’t do the rescuing, Nat, I just write the goddamn checks.

It’d be nice if Jake had that kind of money. Then again, he wouldn’t want to survive what Vince survived to get there - all the child actor grossness, the predatory producers and directors, Owen Grant drugging him and making him lie about what happened to save his career-

“Hey.” Fingers snap under his nose, and Jake flinches back. The guy grins. “That’s better. I like them flinchy. I told you to take a good look and see if this is anyone you recognize. This is who I’m here to recover.”

Jake’s eyes drop to the open folder laid out in front of him.

Chris looks back at him, standing with his shoulders hunched, staring with empty, blank green eyes in the white t-shirt and black shorts Jake has seen in other photos, before, snuck out by the informants who work in WRU. The flash of the black shock collar around his throat makes Jake’s teeth grind together hard enough to add that ache to the list of pains he’s already feeling.

His hair’s the same, he’s maybe a little thinner, but it’s the empty look in his eyes that gets Jake’s blood running cold, like it always does when he sees them like this. All sense of themselves shoved aside, pushed under the surface, drowning in conditioned responses in place of identity. 

And he’s just a kid.

“You know who this is, don’t you?” The guy asks, and Jake stares into Chris’s eyes. Blank. 

The boy’s hands are motionless fists like stones at the ends of his arms. Still as a statue, not moving at all. No blur of happiness, no taps on the walls, no cold feet pressed against Jake’s legs, no spiderlegs movement into his bed when the night scares him too much to get through alone.

“I’ve never seen this boy in my life,” Jake says, lips numb, and it’s the truth.

Jake only knows Chris.

This photo isn’t of Chris. It’s of an empty slate, ready to be filled with whatever they want to put there, ready to serve, to be an active participant, ready to tilt his head just so to the side and put on a smile that never reaches his eyes and say in a breathy voice, I want this. I want you. 

Just like they all do.

Because if they don’t get it just right, they’re tortured until they do.

“You’re lying to me,” The guy says, tapping his finger on the photo again. He moves the paper aside, and there’s another photo underneath. The same boy, a metal collar around his neck hooked to a chain on the wall. There’s an IV in his arm, and a bag just off to the side. His hands are tied behind his back, and there are deep, deep shadows under the boy’s eyes, wide with tears and pain and fear.

“I’m telling you, I’ve never seen this kid.” Jake’s voice is a little less confident, then. But he doesn’t know this one, either, because this is whoever Chris was, before he was a number, before he was a teenage slave, before he was destroyed and rebuilt.

“Oh, really? I’ve got one more photo I think will change your mind.”

Don’t show me what I think you’re going to show me. Don’t do it. Don’t don’t don’t don’t-

The next photo is of Chris, too. 

He’s crying in it.

Jake has barely allowed his brain to comprehend what exactly is happening to Chris in the final photo - and he will not allow himself to remember it, not ever, never again - before he’s moving, pushing himself to his feet and then crouching to get his shoulder under the table that isn’t bolted into the floor, but it should be.

“Go to fucking hell, you piece of shit,” Jake growls, and pushes the table over with his shoulder.

It falls nearly on top of the asshole in his chair, knocking him back with a low yelp and scattering photos everywhere, paperwork slipping across the floor like stones skimming the surface of a lake. By the time the guy has started to stand back up, Jake is kicking the table at him, all of it happening in some deep slow motion of misery in his mind.

Chris deserved better. Chris deserved a family. Chris deserved to be safe. They all deserve to be safe. They all deserve something other than this.

The guy gets back to his feet, baring his teeth at Jake in a snarl. They stand, staring at each other, as the guy pulls a slim back baton off his belt, hits a button, and there’s the distinct crackle of electricity.

Jake’s eyes widen, panting still with the exertion that came with pushing the table over, his leg muscles stretched and protesting. “I know what that is,” He says, his tongue a leaden weight in his mouth. His heart drops to his knees.

They hurt us all the fucking time with their sticks, Kauri whispers in his mind. Again and again and again, until we’re not bad any longer. 

“Struck a nerve,” The guy says, and wipes at his mouth with the back of one hand. Jake doesn’t take his eyes off the baton. “You do know who that is, don’t you? We’re in the market to get him back where he belongs.”

Jake slowly looks up to meet the guy’s flat gray eyes.

He’s already hurting so fucking much. What’s a little more pain, when there’s someone else’s life on the line?

It’s not your fight, Jake. If you stick your neck out-

I’m making it my fight, Mom. Let them cut my fucking head off.

I was tired of having to stand and watch and not be able to help when I was ten and the bruises were on you, I sure as fuck don’t have to stand and watch when the pain is in him. 

I can help now.

Try and stop me.

“I have no clue who that is,” Jake sneers, tightening his hands into fists behind his back. This is going to hurt. This is going to hurt and hurt and hurt, and it’s not going to stop, not until he’s not bad anymore, and Jake has no intention of being good. “But I know you’re the fucking pervert in the photo with him. You got a name so I can get you turned in to the real cops?”

The guy snorts, trying on a sneering smile, but Jake’s move with the table threw him off his smug little rhythm, and the smile isn’t real. “You can call me Mr. Everly. Or Sir.”

My Sir used to lock me outside when it stormed when I was bad

There were hooks in the wall for me in Sir’s bedroom

I had to stay in the basement sometimes so no one would see me

Jake swallows, hard. How far can anger carry you, against pain? He’s about to find out. His mother’s going to be ashamed of him, when she finds out he did this. But sometimes people are ashamed of you when you do the right thing. And right now there’s a boy waiting somewhere for Jake to keep his promise.

“All right, then, Everly. My name is Jake Stanton. I’m a junior in college. I’m twenty-five years old and I work in a homeless shelter for at-risk young adults and Nat Yoder’s been my boss for two years and I’ve never seen that kid before in my fucking life.”

“I don’t believe you.” The guy advances on him, and Jake backs up, right into a wall. It’s just the two of them, in here, and he’s sure that the camera in the corner near the ceiling is turned off. He’s going to walk out of here, but he might not be walking when he does it. He might not be crawling, either.

But he’s not going to give this guy a single piece of information he can use to ruin a life so fragile, so recently built.

Wait for me, Chris.

“I don’t give a shit if you believe me, it’s the truth.”

The guy raises the baton, brings it down, and Jake collapses to the ground, screaming at the pain that runs through every muscle as they lock up, nerves sparking with electricity. It comes down again, and again, and again, and everything is pain, and Jake’s eyes close tight and he doesn’t try to be strong, to hold out. He screams, and cries, and he holds green eyes in his mind, he holds backflips and yoga, and swinging from the high bars to the low bars, landing on his feet.

A bright and sunny smile as Chris lands on his feet, arms in the air, and immediately asks if Jake will watch him do it again.

Don’t leave, don’t run, don’t go somewhere you’re not safe, we’re coming back for you.

The baton turns into fists, into the ends of those steel-toed boots, into bruises that blossom and the sounds Jake is making are barely human as he curls up on the ground. When he’s hauled up into the chair again, the guy asks him more questions.

Jake stares at him, body singing with pain, and says nothing at all.

“You’re going to be annoying,” The guy says. “I can tell.”

Jake grins at him, bitterly, and spits a little more blood on the floor. 

“I sure fuckin’ hope so. I want my goddamn phone call.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t a cop.”

“You’re not. But I want my phone call, anyway.” Jake stares at him, bleary and blurry thanks to the blood running into his eyes. “And I know you want to listen to it.”

The guy pauses, is quiet for a second. Jake doesn’t breathe.

“Fine.”

I’m coming back for you, Chris, I promise, but first I’m going to send someone who can help. If she can find you. 

Please, please be waiting where she can find you.

#whump #tw: violent beating #beating #tw: police brutality #only it being a cop isn't really true #tw: electric shock #referenced noncon #tw: referenced past noncon #referenced whump involving a minor #tw: referenced past domestic abuse #referenced past domestic violence #captivity #box boy #box boy universe #angry caretaker #caretaker #caretaker whump #referenced #conditioning #brainwashing #box boy multiverse #bbu #jake the shelter guy

[kewltie]

"Where's no. 3?!" Katsuki demands, storming into the front office of Yavin Elementary.

"G-Ground Zero?" the receptionist squeaks, hand clutching her chest as though she's in a heartattack.

"Midoriya Hikaru," Katsuki snaps, stomping his way toward her. "Where the fuck is he?"

"I—we," she leans back in a little and breathes, "r-requested to talk Midoriya-san about Hikaru, sir," she says, attempting to regather her bearings once more.

"He's busy right now," Katsuki asserts, frowning, "so I'm here in his stead. Tell me what the problem is then."

"We would prefer to talk to a parental unit instead," she insists, steeling herself in the face of Katsuki's thinning impatient.

Katsuki glowers. "I'm his fucking guardian," he bites out. "The brat lives under my roof, shit in my toilet, chow down on my food, and hog my TV, so as far as I'm fucking concern he's as much mine as Deku’s!,” he finishes with a snarl.

"Um," she says, blinking hard.

Katsuki drags his face down his hand and sighs. "Look, you can just over your paperwork and see that I'm listed as one of the emergency contacts for him. Or,” he gives her a pointed glare, “you can talk to my fucking lawyers."

"I—I'll double check right away, sir," she says hurriedly, turning to her computer. Several minutes pass by as Katsuki waits with a growing agitation for her to confirm what he already knows. Thank fucking shit, he'd actually listened to Deku about getting listed on the kids’ emergency cards.

They're a fucking menace, so he should have known something would happen, but he'd given them at least a month, not a week into the new school year, that he would get that call. And for it to be Hikaru of all people and not his twin or eldest sister. That's the fucking shocking part.

"Zero-san?" the receptionist calls out to him. "I apologize for earlier. You're indeed correct, your name is listed as emergency contact for Hikaru," she says, picking up the office phone nearby. "I'll go ahead and call Okaye-sensei to let her know to bring Hikaru up right away."

And that take even longer several minutes, causing him to start pacing a hole in the floor with his rapidly depleting patience. Fucking hell.

He hears the click of heels and the slow familiar gait of Hikaru approaching from a distant before he even saw them. It makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Zero-san?" Okaye says, walking into the office with Hikaru's small hunched figure in tow. From the tilt in her voice she's as much as surprise of his appearance here as the receptionist was earlier. "I was honestly expecting Midoriya-san instead."

"He's not here right now, so you're stuck with me," Katsuki says dismissively, his only focus is the brat next to her. "No. 3?" He drops down on to the floor on one knee and opens his arms to Hikaru. "What the fuck happen to you, huh?"

Okaye frowns at his choice of language, but Hikaru quickly lights up at the sound of his voice and breaks away from her side to fall into his arms. "Kacchan," he wails, sniffing into Katsuki's shoulder.

"Hikaru got into a fight with another student from his class," she explains slowly.

Katsuki pauses, pushing him back to look at him over. He eyes Hikaru from head to toe, noticing the bruises running up both arms and the split lip on his kid. "Okay, tell me this at least: did you win and kick that other kid's ass?" he asks gravely, completely serious.

"Zero-san!" Okaye gasps in outrage.

Hikaru nods, gripping the sleeve of Katsuki's shirt in his bruised fist. Katsuki grins and reaches over to wipe away the tear tracks on Hikaru's wet cheeks. "Good, I knew you had it in you, No. 3," he says, pride thickening his voice as ruffles Hikaru's tangled mess of green hair.

"That's extremely improper," she argues. "We don't endorse that kind of behavior here."

"Yea?" he says, shooting a glare over Hikaru's shoulders toward Okaye. "Well, I didn't spent hours teaching my brat to fight back so he can let some snot nose little twat beat up him while you all watched and do absolute shit."

Okaye frowns. "Our academy does not condone bullying. We do our best to stop it before it happen."

"Then what do you call this?" Katsuki demands, carefully gripping Hikaru's shoulder and spins him around to show her the blotches of purple and blue on him. "I know No. 3. He's a good kid, he wouldn't start a fight but he'll finish them." He squeezes Hikaru's shoulder in reassurance. "You're lucky we even let him enrolled at this subpar academy, because you certainly don't know how to fucking take care of my kid properly."

Okaye goes red in the face. "That-that's such a baseless accusation! We take the utmost care of the all children at our academy, Hikaru included." She huffs, crossing her arms across her chest. "And besides Hikaru was the one who threw the first punch."

With a brow raised, Katsuki asks Hikaru, "Did you really?" Hikaru tilts his head back to look at him and nods again as he bites down on his lip. Understanding, right away, Katsuki continues to push, "What did that little shit do to you to make you wanna punch him?"

Hikaru looks down at his feet. He doesn't speak, so Katsuki waits, letting Hikaru decide when he's ready to talk or if he want to talk at all. Finally, Hikaru steps away from him, breaking contact only to turn around to face him properly with a dour expression on his face.

"H-he said I was the son of the devil," Hikaru mumbles, hands clenching by his side. "And that Papa was a bad person. A bad omega who mated with a villain and we, kids, were just as bad." Katsuki narrow his eyes as each devastating words pass Hikaru’s lips. “It made mad. I didn’t like the way he’d talked about Papa, Aki and Yuko-niichan like that,” he quietly admits.

"I hope you got more than a punch in on that kid," Katsuki says with every bit of sincerity that he can carry. "Because I would have pummeled him into the fucking ground and beat some more senses into him."

Okaye makes a noise of protest. "Zero-san, we don't—"

Katsuki's eyes flash to her with a hostile glare. "Shut your mouth, I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit excuses," he snarls. "Right now, I'm talking to my kid, so don't fucking interrupt us."

She reels back, face drawn tight in defense, but she wisely chooses to hold her tongue lest she test the infamous temper of Japan’s number one Pro-Hero Ground Zero that had landed more than one villain in the intensive care.

Katsuki turns his attention back to the more important matter at hand. Hikaru's shoulders are hunched over and his eyes are wary with hesitance. Ever since some rat ass bastard managed to leak the kids' face and names to the media, publicly linking them to the trashcan who donated the other half of their DNA, Izuku had been afraid of this moment. He didn’t want the brats to be exposed to the hostile reality of being the spawn of a villain and what the world thought about that.

Katsuki wasn't worry. Not really, he knows Yuko and Akira. They'll be fine.

It's Hikaru he is more careful about. He's too soft, too sweet, and too hurt easily for that kind of stigma he’ll have to live with when people eventually found out that his piece of trash other parent is a mastermind criminal, who'd menaced society for the last decade; the deathtoll number in hundreds, but those affected by his crimes are thousands.

Adults naturally shitty human being, but children can be way worst with their ignorance and youth. Katsuki would know, he was one himself before UA beat it out of him and made him better for it. "You want me to have a little talk with the twerp?" Katsuki muses, fingers flexing.

Teaching troublesome brats is way beneath his paygrade, but he’ll make an exception for Hikaru and only Hikaru; he can count on Hikaru’s sisters having no problem resolving their own issues. Yuko is a goddamn terror, and Akira can easily wipe the floor with kids who are even older than her.

Hikaru shakes his head. "I don't like fighting," he says quietly. "I just wanted him to stop saying mean things about Papa and my sisters." He looks earnestly at Katsuki as something akin to fear flash across his face. "Do you think Papa will be mad at me?" He wrings his hands anxiously in front of him.

Katsuki thinks of Izuku on that specific day: standing tall, shoulders straight, and with his kids huddled closely around him as he watched his alpha, husband, the father of his children, getting drag away in quirk suppression collar and cuffs. He didn't look away. Not one bit.

It took more than fucking guts to turn his back to his mate of over a decade and reported him to the authority for being a sack of villainous shit. Especially, when there were three children still under his care to think about, but he did it without a single drop of hesitation. He didn’t regret it at all.

It was stone fucking cold.

Even with all the heroes around them, even with Katsuki there, it didn't take much for Katsuki to clearly see how Izuku was easily the strongest and bravest soul there. Omega and quirkless, they were all just a footnote to Izuku's character. They did not define him. Not then, not now, and never will.

Katsuki smirks, leaning down to pinch Hikaru's cheek who puffs up his cheek indignantly. It’s cute as hell. "Disappointed sure, but mad? Nah," he says. "That would make him a fucking hypocrite otherwise. Didn't you know when he was younger Deku used to get into all sort of trouble and fight."

Hikaru's eyes widen. "He did?!"

"Yea," Katsuki's lip twitch in amusement, "you're a shit stirrer like you're good old Papa. And," he reaches for Hikaru's hand, "even if that wasn't the case, I got your back. The world could be against you and I'll still stand by your side."

Hikaru's face crunches up as though he's in pain. "K-Kaaaaaachan," he wails, but this time it's a river of happy tears as he slams his small body right up against Katsuki's legs and wraps his arm around him. "Y-You," hiccups, "mean it?"

"Yea, I wouldn't bullshit you, brat." Rolling his eyes as Hikaru happily sobs into his pant legs, Katsuki comments, "God, you're a crier just like Deku, alright.” But there's no bite to it as he pats Hikaru's back consolingly. He’s not Deku who can easily comfort the brats from nightmares and scary things that bump in the night, but if they need someone to protect them from the brutality of the world? They have Katsuki’s fists to protect them.

He casts an askance glance at Okaye. "I'll be taking him home early for the day," he tells her point blank.

Okaye actually has the audacity to look relief as though his brat was the problem in the first place. "I think that is a wise decision to make, Zero-san."

Katsuki pulls Hikaru back enough to lean down and hitches his hands underneath the boy's armpits. He lifts Hikaru up and hikes him over his hip. "Let's go get you some ice cream, but don't tell your Papa about it," he says.

Hikaru tucks a small smile in Katsuki's chest.

Just as they about to depart and Okaye is finally free of them at last, probably wishing she took a leave of absent today, they hear loud footsteps hitting the floor beyond the walls of the office. It's so loud that even Hikaru raises his head from Katsuki's chest in interest.

"Akira, you can't go in there!" someone loudly protest from outside. "Wait until Okaye-sensei is done talking and she'll call you in."

"You’ve been saying that for the last ten minutes. I'm not waiting around anymore!" a familiar voice argues back. "Let me see my brother!"

The back door to the front office is flung open to reveal a young girl who looks like an exact copy of Hikaru, except for the green insolent eyes and razor sharp tongue, and a taller tired adult trailing behind her.

Katsuki lets out a long exhale as Akira strolls in unprompted. Here is the real troublemaker. His small tyrant.

"Hikaru!" she says as soon her eyes zeroing in her brother right away, not even acknowledging Katsuki who has him in his arms. "I was so worried about you!"

"Aki," Hikaru returns excitedly back.

"Are you alright?" she coos, walking up to them. "Let me have a good look at you."

Katsuki gently lets Hikaru down and places him right in front of Akira. She immediately jumps on him as soon as his feet hit the floor, carefully looking over every cut and bruise she found on her brother, while happily ignoring Katsuki like he's just a rock on the road. He’s not even surprise at her insolent. Yuko is cooly polite, while Akira is so foul mouth and crass that sometimes he has a hard time thinking how Izuku managed to produce her, but her green eyes and hair are all Izuku’s.

Then, he remembers why she’s exactly like this.

"I'm sorry, Okaye-sensei," the woman who came with Akira says. "I tried to stop her but she was, very," she makes a pained face, "insistent."

Okaye heaves a sigh in acknowledgement. "Akira," she says warily the latest troublemaker. "Please refrain from breaking the school's property and causing a disturbance on the school grounds."

"Y'all rich as hell, so you'll be fine," she answers dismissively, not even looking back at her. Or at Katsuki either.

Here’s the thing: Midoriya Akira is self-proclaimed Ground Zero’s number one fan. She’d watched all his videos, tune into all his battles, and had all his merch. She absolutely adores him and tries her best to imitate her idol Ground Zero, but it’s a different story when Zero’s mask is removed and Katsuki is the one standing in front of her.

Okaye cuts to Katsuki with a drained expression on her face. "This child," she mumbles under her breath in pure annoyance and exhaustion, giving over to Katsuki to handle her now.

Katsuki grabs a hold of Hikaru's arm and pulls him back from Akira's attentive care. It's enough to finally catch her attention as her green eyes narrow and flashes toward him with open derision. He drags Hikaru close him as a hostage and prepares for the bloody battle ahead.

"What are you doing here, No. 2?" Katsuki demands with suspicion. "You should be in class."

"What the hell are you doing here, Kacchan? You should be out patrolling," Akira retorts back, and when he just glares at her, she scoffs before raising her bruised knuckles proudly.

"She kick started a brawl in the middle of the classroom and got the entire class involve,” the woman behind Akira answers for her, entirely too weary and vexed—which is the norm when dealing with Midoriya Akira. She’s abrasive and prickly as porcupine, but only those that are close to her does she soften up. “Several students had to be sent to the infirmary afterward.”

"I had to prove my dominance at the top of the pack," Akira announces proudly, who has none of Izuku's sweet temperament but all of his reckless diehard attitude that had sent more than one alpha packing with their tail behind their back. "Now, they won't bother Hikaru anymore."

Feeling a headache coming on, Katsuki glares at Akira. "What the hell, No. 2?" he demands. "Deku is going to flip his shit when not just one of his fucking brats got into a fight but two? And you even pick a fight with your entire class for that matter?!"

Akira pouts. “But you told me that if I want to protect my family I have to be strong, stronger than everyone else so that nobody can hurt them anymore,” she says sulkily. “I had to assert my power somehow!”

“I didn’t mean that you should start a one man war against everyone!” Katsuki snaps, exasperated. Akira got all that bravado, but none of that keen intellect of her older sister, Yuko.

Akira, whose bulldogged nature is more akin to Katsuki because blood be damned, that occasionally he forget whose daughter she actually is, but it's time like this when her eyes start to water and her lips wobble precariously, hands trembling at her side as the dam break, that he’s reminded how like Izuku she truly is.

"I-I didn't do anything wrong," she insists doggedly with eyes leaking a goddamn waterfall because she inherit Izuku's fucking cursed tears.

"Ah, fuck," Katsuki says warily. "Don't cry, No. 2."

"I'm not crying!" she yells back as another tear track rolls down her cheek.

Unlike Hikaru who openly cried like he's vomiting his emotions all over the place until he's emptied out, Akira is much more tightly wound up as though she's a densely packed ordnance that can go off at any moment and when she explode, everything give away to anger and hurt.

Katsuki sighs, dragging his hand down his face. He's trained professional who not only kick criminals' ass on regular basis but deal with plenty of crises. Hell, he'd even saved the country a few times in the past years or so but this—? Hardest fucking thing ever. Nothing can prepare him for the trial and tribulations of parenthood.

He doesn't know how Izuku does this on a regular basis especially when he's wrangling all these kids alone without any help from his dirtbag ex-husband and still managed to pull it all off like a true champion. A damn boss. Izuku can put Katsuki and his colleagues to fucking shame. Because this feel like disaster management 101 and he's failing spectacularly at it with the way the brats' teachers are looking at him like he's a giant disappointment because he's the asshole who made his kid cry in public.

"Akira," Hikaru says worriedly, stepping forward.

The line of his shoulders dips as his head bends low and Katsuki knows the sign well enough. They're twin. Creepily in sync and deeply emphatic of each other's pain. One crying kid is enough, but two? At the same time too? That’s fucking insane. He’ll leave that to Izuku.

Katsuki moves quickly to grab Hikaru by the shoulder and sets him in place. “Stay,” he orders, and without looking back, walks up to a sulking teary eyes Akira who looks like she would bite his head off if he get any closer.

"What you want," she snaps, sniffling hard.

Wordlessly, he drops down to her level. It's an even playing field here. Katsuki may know shit about kids overall but he knows his brats and Akira hates being patronize. He would know because she's like him in a lot of ways.

He extends a hand toward her; a peace offering.

She glares at the gesture like she can burn a whole in it. She doesn't move. Doesn't even respond to it, but he waits anyway. Katsuki doesn't have a lot of patience for anyone else but for Izuku and the brats, he'd learned it the hard way. In a series of trail and errors.

A minute pass by. Then two. Three. Four. Five, and then Akira's wall of defiance and anger softens just slightly enough for her to gingerly take his hand and he pulls her right into his chest, arms wrapping around her in forceful hug that leaves her no room to change her mind.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against her ear. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. That was mean of me.”

She snorts. “I don’t care,” she tells him, dropping her head on to his shoulder as her hand tightens around the front of his shirt that says otherwise. “It was your ugly face that made me cried anyway.”

He doesn’t laugh, because he doesn’t want her to punch him, but it’s a near thing. Kids, they’re going to be the death of him. Thrice over.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #stepdad au #series: numbers #this is a beta version of stepdad au aka the first draft #but i discarded for the newer adaption

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 7

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 7 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

Billy’s is perched on top of the lifeguard tower, watching people splash around in the pool. This job is an absolute drag and he can not wait for pool season to finally end. 

Tommy has decided to come around and keep him company, which is secret Tommy code for “ I fucked up again and Carol is giving me the cold shoulder “.

“ So, I haven’t seen much of you these days. Carol’s throwing a party on friday, you should come. “ 

Billy has never had a massive desire to hang out with Carol and her parties are usually pretty shit anyway. Tommy he can deal with, he’s an idiot but he’s an alright guy. Carol is just — mean, just for the sake of being mean. And being around her is pretty exhausting to be honest. 

Billy has other plans anyway.

“ Can’t. Got a date “ 

“ A date ? “ Tommy questions “ with who ? “ 

“ (Y/N) “ 

“ Oh “ 

Something about the way Tommy says oh, irks Billy. Like he wants to say more but doesn’t. There’s a negative connotation placed on the word and it makes Billy really fucking irritated.

“ What’s that supposed to mean ? “ 

“ Nothing just — “ Tommy says and raises his eyebrow in that stupid way that lets Billy know there’s more to come and he probably won’t like it “ you’re spending a lot of time with her, huh ? That something serious ? “

That’s something Billy’s been asking himself for a while now. Sex, that’s something he’s used to, that he can separate from any emotional relationships. But cuddling ? Holding hands ? Sharing a bed in a completely non sexual way ? Those things are new and he’s not sure what they mean for his relationship with (Y/N). He sure as hell isn’t gonna discuss that with Tommy of all people though.

“ That’s none of your business, amigo “ 

“ Ah don’t get defensive now. Just wondering. She seems to got you wrapped around her finger. Before you know it you’ll be getting all cozy, moving into a townhouse in loch nora, have her poppin out a few babies. Ah I can just see it, the Hargrove family. That’s a chick’s dream ain’t it  ?! “ 

Billy grows more and more uneasy with every word that leaves Tommy’s lips. He likes (Y/N), a whole lot, more than he ever liked another person. But is this what’s happening ? Is this a future they’re moving towards ? Is this really something he wants ? 

What about leaving Hawkins after graduation ? Is that sill in the cards if things with (Y/N) become serious so quickly ? What if she really wants a future much like the one Tommy has just painted ? What if she wants all the happy family stuff ? The stuff that Billy can’t give her. 

Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how. He’s not that type of person, has never had a proper family. Billy doesn’t know the first thing about love and relationships and family. How is he gonna built a future on that foundation ? 

(Y/N) deserves so much more than what he can give and it scares him to think about it.

“ Hey Tommy, how about you shut the fuck up ? “ 

Maybe it’s time to have a talk with (Y/N). The talk. The “what are we “ talk. Thing is, talking is not something Billy is particularly good at. So he’ll just take his girl on a good date and see where things go.

His girl. His girl ? 

It’s friday and the clock in his car says 9:02 and Billy hates himself. He’s not supposed to be here, speeding down the winding streets of Huckley, ACDC blasting from his stereo. He’s not supposed to be here in an old black shirt with more holes in it than he can count and with a bouquet of wilting squashed up flowers resting on his passengers seat as a silent reminder of the one thing he will never be good at — romance.

The plan was to pick (Y/N) up from work, have dinner at the Moonlight diner next to the drive in, then see a movie and maybe, maybe if he was real lucky she’d ask him to come back to her place and if he was extra super lucky she’d let him make her cum again

Fact is, he’s two hours late and when he’d arrived at the restaurant they told him she had already left. 

It’s not his fault that he’s late, it really isn’t. The thing is, he should’ve known better. That good things don’t work out for Billy Hargrove, that plans never work out for him either.

Not as long as Neil still has a say in his life.

Of course Max wasn’t home on time and of course Billy was the one being blamed for it. The one responsible for finding her and bringing her home.

“ As soon as your sister is home safe and sound you can go running off with whatever hussy you want to, for all I care. But you better bring your sister home first. “ 

Billy wanted to punch him so desperately then. Just one hit, right in his snarl. Right in the middle of his mean face. Thinking about it, Billy wonders if he’s ever seen his dad smile. A real smile. 

If so, he can’t remember it.

So instead of picking up (Y/N) from work, he drove around all of Hawkins to find his sister, who once again wasn’t where she said she was going to be. It took him an entire hour to locate her and drive her home.

It took another half an hours drive to Huckley, even with his leadfoot. By then he was sure (Y/N) wasn’t at her workplace anymore. There was a flicker of hope in his heart, that maybe she was at the restaurant waiting for him. Eating breadsticks and drinking cherry cokes and waiting for him to show up.

She wasn’t though. She’d been there but had left after spending an hour and a half all by herself. The waiter had told him so with one of those ugly tight lipped smiles. Those that pity you and yet they’re quite fond of your misery.

So what is there left to do ? Leave and forget about tonight. Forget about the date and the restaurant and — well, forget about the girl as well.

But he can’t do that, can he ? Not after everything. Not after all he’s shared and all she let him know. 

He wants her in his life though. It seems — easier. Life seems easier when she’s around. Lighter. Happier.

So what else can he do ? 

Grovel. 

Billy Hargrove, doesn’t usually grovel. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness either. Billy is reckless and selfish and careless. But there’s a part of him, one he kinds of likes, one that’s only recently come to light. One that thinks sometimes there are things worth fighting for.

And that part grovels. It asks for forgiveness and swallows it’s pride because the alternative is losing (Y/N) and that’s not something he wants to even think about.

So all that’s left is hoping that she forgives him. That there’s a part of her that wants to keep him in her life. That thinks he’s worth it even though, heaven knows, he’s not. 

He’s picked up some chinese food on the way to her place. One might call it a peace offering, Billy honestly just wants to make sure she’s getting some good food after all. Even if it isn’t some fancy restaurant. Really, anything’s better than her cooking. 

An unfamiliar sense of dread is rushing through his system. He’s been trying to hard to be enough. To do things right. Or at least what society seems to think is right. 

God, he hates feeling like this. Like disappointing (Y/N). He knows nothing he ever does is good enough for Neil and it seems he wasn’t good enough for his mom either, but (Y/N) honestly made him feel like he had a chance. Like he isn’t all bad. To realize he might’ve fucked this up, scares him shitless. 

As he walks up to her apartment, plastic bag from the china place in one hand and a sad sad bouquet of flowers in the other, his feet feel incredibly heavy. He never usually feels like this when he’s here. This has become a place that makes him feel comfortable and safe and — happy. 

He wants to go back to that, oh god he wishes he can. 

As he knocks on her door, for a moment he wants her not to open it, to just ignore him. Maybe that would be better than seeing her disappointed face. Than hearing her confirm what he’s always known. That he doesn’t deserve her and that he’s fucked up once again.

But she does answer the door, dressed in a big sweater and sleeping shorts and she looks — happy.

“ Look I’m s — “ 

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence as in the matter of a moment her arms are thrown around his middle, pulling him into the apartment and as close to her as possible. 

“ Thank god, you’re okay “ she mumbles against his chest. 

“ Uh, yeah. “ 

“ Billy, “ she says and pulls her face away to look up at him. There’s so much worry in her eyes. Worry but also relieve. Did she honestly worry about him ? About HIM ? 

“ I thought something happened. I was so worried. I just — I don’t have a phone number so I couldn’t even call you and even then, would you have been at home if something had happened ? No. So I — I’m just so relieved. “ 

In that moment he wants to hold her as tight as possible and never ever let her go. This girl puts so much trust in him, her first thought wasn’t “ oh Billy the asshole is ditching me” her first thought was “ something must’ve happened “. She worried about him, genuinely worried something wasn’t right.

He does not deserve that trust, not with the way he was and the way he still is. It’s a responsibility, an expectation he’s afraid he can never meet. 

But god, it feels so good. And the selfish part of him yells louder than the rest, telling him to enjoy it while it lasts.

“ I’m alright. “ He confirms and places a soft kiss on her head. Her hair is so soft and smells so comfortingly of lavender. She smells and feels like home if ever Billy knew what that word meant. “ Sorry the date was shit. I had to go find Max then bring her home and dad was just being an asshole as usual. I am — “ he takes her face in between his hands “ — so sorry. “ 

Billy Hargrove isn’t sorry about a lot of things.

He is genuinely sorry now.

A slow smile pulls at the corner of (Y/N) lips “ did you bring food ? “ she asks, eyebrow raised. 

Her face is squished between the sad flowers and the handles of the plastic bag containing the food containers and Billy thinks she looks adorable. 

“ I did “ 

Smiles come so effortlessly to him when she’s around. Sometimes he feels them creeping up on him and sometimes they catch him by surprise but he never has to fake them. (Y/N) just make them appear on his face. Like magic. 

He lets go of her and walks towards the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter and pulling out the cartons. “ I didn’t know what you wanted so I got a shit ton of stuff, hope there’s something there you like. “

She doesn’t answer and after a moment Billy’s eyes wander up to see what’s going on. But she just stands there, looking at him all soft eyes and kind smile and she’s leaning against the doorway all effortlessly beautiful and unbothered and he thinks he might faint by the way she makes his heart beat in his chest and takes his breath away. She does it all by doing absolutely nothing. By just being herself.

He wonders if she feels it too. He hopes she feels it too.

“ What ? “ 

“ This feels very domestic. I like it. I like you being here. I — I really like you Billy Hargrove. “ 

It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say in reply. There’s a thousand things he wants to say. Only they don’t come out easy, they never had to come out before. This entire situation is a first for him. So he keeps the words in and waits for another moment when he feels ready to say them. He just smiles and throws her a wink “ You like Kung Pao chicken ? “

“ Why are all these parents absolute dickheads ? “ (Y/N) asks, taking a last bite of her spring roll while pointing at the TV “ Tina’s mom is shit, Nancy’s mom is — drunk ? And her dad looks like a Ken doll but that’s irrelevant. They’re all so dumb“ .

Billy loves to listen to her ramble. She does it with the same passion, the same excitement that’s always present in everything she does. She exudes an aura of euphoria. Of wonder. Of magic.

“ Oh yeah, because we have such a good track record when it comes to parents, huh ? “ 

She considers his words for a moment before giving him a shrug in agreement “ Guess you’re right. “ 

She’s cuddled into his side as Nightmare on Elm Street plays on the small tv in her living room. This feels like it should be, it feels right and that terrifies Billy to the core. This feels too good to be true. 

“ So, what did you initially plan for our date ?. I mean after dinner. “ (Y/N) questions, looking up at him through her beautiful eyes.

“ Wanted to take you to see a movie at the drive in. Maybe a scary one so I could’ve held you when you got too scared. Like a real gentleman I’d drive you home, kiss you a little. Maybe make out a little, maybe you’d invite me up … ? “ 

“ Make out, huh ? “ 

“ mmh. Would’ve been the makeout of your life. “ 

“ Oh really, huh. Well Mr. Hargrove let me tell you something. I don’t need a fancy diner with burgers that cost 15 bucks. I don’t particularly like drive ins because the sound is shit and people are dumb. Watching a movie on my couch and pigging out on chinese food is a pretty sweet date in my book. I like ir and I think this is a great date. Even with the flowers looking the way they do. I really really like it. “ 

“ You do ? “ 

“ I really do. Now how about that makeout ? Let me judge that for myself ? “ 

“ Oh baby, “ he says and cups her face “ you have no idea what you’re up for. Makeout of your life, I promise “ .

She pulls him closer by his shirt and connects their lips in a soft kiss, growing needier with every motion. He wants her closer. Closer. Needs her closer. Needs more.

Kissing her feels soft and warm and comfortable. He loves kissing her. It sends electric currents through his body, shivers of excitement. They’re not sexual though, not entirely. It’s more. There’s more when he’s kissing her and it both excites and terrifies him.

For a moment they get swallowed by a feeling of pure and unfiltered bliss. It’s all consuming, tinting their worlds in hues of reds and pinks and all that matter is the two of them. Just them caught in a bubble, forgetting about the world outside and getting lost in their kisses.

Though after a moment, the bubble pops, the wave crashes and the magic vanishes and life is life again. Oh how Billy wishes he could’ve stayed in the moment forever. To kiss her forever.

As they pull away, (Y/N) looks in his eyes and there it is again, this perpetual radiancance. Her hands are softly brushing the curls away from his face before she places some gentle kisses on his cheeks. It’s these moments of affection and being close that he cherishes to dearly. Those feel new, like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

If only he could allow himself to hold on to them.

“ Are you gonna stay the night ? “ she asks, hope swaying in her words.

“ Might as well “ Billy replies as kisses her one more time before getting off the couch.

There’s a little red adidas duffle bag in his car, hidden beneath the passenger seat. It’s been there ever since he’s gotten the Camaro. Ever since he first took off for the night. Just him, the duffle bag and that awful black eye.

It’s there for emergencies, when he can’t go home before school but things are — bad. Teachers start asking questions when you come to school in the same clothes 4 days in a row and not brushing your teeth is nasty.

So Billy keeps the bag filled with clothes and a toothbrush, deodorant and some extra cologne. 

“ Let me just go grab my stuff from the car “ he says, already turning towards the door, when a hand reaches out and holds onto his arm.

“ Actually — “ (Y/N) says then rushes towards the bathroom. When she comes back she holds out her hands and it takes a moment for Billy to realise what it is she’s presenting him here. That’s until he DOES realise and his heart sinks to his stomach.

It’s a toothbrush. 

“ So, I uh — I just thought that you always dragging your bag from the car to my place to the car, over and over again is kinda exhausting so I got you a toothbrush you can leave here. If you want I can clear some space in my wardrobe for some of your clothes “

She’s so hopeful. So so hopeful.

Tommy’s words come back, echoing around Billy’s mind and taunting him. 

This is the first step into a future he so desperately wants to be able to give to her. One he can never see himself in. On he doesn’t deserve.

“ Billy are you o — “ 

He grabs his jacket from the back of the couch, fumbling around for his keys. “ I gotta go. I gotta go “ he murmurs over and over again. 

She wants to keep him around, wants him here. She allows him to be a part of her life. Significant. Important. She trusts him to stay around. 

He can’t fuck this up but he will. He always does. Maybe this is his superpower. Billy Hargrove also known as Mr. Fuckup, superpower: ruining everything.

(Y/N) deserves more than that. She deserves a good life in a pretty house with a pretty dog and pretty kids. She deserves so much better than him. So much more. He can’t even take her on a fucking date. Not even one single date.

“ I gotta go “ 

“ What do you mean you gotta go ?” 

There’s so many voices in his head talking over one another. All taunting. All teasing. 

 You’re a disgrace, Billy. You are never gonna amount to anything, Pussy. That’s a chick’s dream, ain’t it ? 

Neil's voice, Tommy’s voice. Billy’s own voice. 

And they’re all calling out to him listing all the insecurities he’s ever felt cursing through him.

A chick’s dream, huh ? An emotional wreck that never learned how to deal with his feelings in a healthy way. Afraid of commitment because he’s afraid of rejection, of loss. 

That’s a full on dream guy if he’s ever seen one. God he’s so pathetic.

It’s like his body is working on auto pilot and he only regains complete control again once he’s back in the camaro.

So much for talking eh? He couldn’t even bare to look at her. To see her face as she realises what an asshole he really is. To see disappointment in her eyes. To see sadness. All of which he himself put there.

Yeah Billy, you do what you always do. What you do best.

Just fucking bolt. That’s brave. So brave.

It pains him that the voice calling out the loudest, is his own.

The job of a lifeguard has quite a few disadvantages. 

You have to boil in the sun while everyone else gets to enjoy the cool water of the pool.

You mostly sit around on your ass all day doing nothing but getting a sunburn

You have to work long hours when others get to enjoy their summer break.

It’s a shitty job all around, Billy is the first to admit it. He hates the job. There are some things about it though, that he enjoys quite a bit. 

He gets to yell at kids all day long

He has a set of keys for the property.

Billy’s always felt a certain kind of freedom and liberation whenever he was in the water. Ever since he was little, the beach was his favorite place. When you’re out in the ocean, riding a wave, nothing matters but the here and now. Only him and the water. No Neil, no troubles, no fears. 

Just him and the wave.

There’s no waves here and no ocean and no salty breeze. But when the pool is closed and he’s the only one around, sometimes he gets into the water and closes his eyes and lets himself drift on the surface. It never feels like home but sometimes it helps him remember what home felt like. 

As he floats slowly around the pool in his boxers, looking up at the stars, he tries so hard to remember home. The liberation. The freedom. 

He can’t thought because lately home wasn’t that. Lately home was (Y/N).

There’s a weight deep inside him like as if he swallowed a bunch of stones. It’s a horrible feeling, an all consuming sense of dread. He shouldn’t have left just because it scared him that she cared. He should’ve let her.

But what then ? What if what they have is only temporary. Good things don’t last for Billy why should this be any different ? Good things never last. The trust she puts in him, the affection, he deserves none of it. Never did. Probably never will.

“ Hey asshole “ a voice calls out to him through the sapphire blue of the night.

The lights around the pool, illuminate her like some kind of heavenly goddess. An angel walking barefoot across the ugly cold cement floor of the Hawkins community pool. 

Billy swims towards the edge of the pool, as (Y/N) plops down letting her feet dangle into the water. 

“ How’d you know I was here ? “ 

(Y/N) shrugs. “ I didn’t. I knew you weren’t gonna go home but I couldn’t find you at the diner and so I drove around Hawkins trying to spot your car somewhere. It’s a bit flashy, I gotta tell you. “ 

She was looking for him. No one’s ever been out looking for him before. He’s the one doing that usually. For Max. For mom …

Billy is always the one searching never the one being searched for. Never the one being found.

“ Why ? “ 

“ What do you mean, why ? “ (Y/N) asks and leans back on her hands “ you just left with no explanation. That’s not how things work with me. “ 

“ Well tough luck because that’s the one thing I’m good at, other than sex. So you’ll have to get used to the running . “ 

“ Or you’ll have to learn to let people care about you, you stubborn fuck. “ 

Every time she swears she gets infinitely hotter to Billy, why ? He has no idea but there’s something about this pretty girl swearing that makes for a perfectly chaotic anomaly. 

What shocks him though, is that she so clearly, so effortlessly sees behind his walls and defence and gets right to the bare bones of it all. His inability to let people care about him because he care so little about himself. Because no one ever really did.

“ Yeah, I know what it feels like. Billy, I probably understand better than most people. “ 

“ What you want — “ he chokes out “ what you deserve, is more than anything I can give you. Just figured it’s easier to get out now before — “ 

“ Before what ? “ 

“ You know “ 

“ Say it ! “ 

He takes a breath. The words are tingling at tongue just asking to be spoken. Like a whole package of pop rocks popping and sizzling.

“ Before I fall in love with you “.

A silence settles upon them though Billy is sure they can hear his heart beat all the way over to Indianapolis. It’s beating so loud. So hard. He can feel it about to burst out of his chest.

“ Before you fall in love with me.” he adds “ I’m gonna fuck up eventually and I don’t want to pull you into the mess. “

“ That’s my decision to make, Billy. You don’t get to make that one for me. “ 

“ I don’t — I don’t deserve you caring so much. “ 

“ Well shit man I do anyway. Maybe no one ever told you this or no one ever made you feel it, but Billy — you don’t have to earn love. Or affection. Or care. People give it because they want to, because you mean something to them. Let me love you. Because I do. I — I’m like 95% sure I’m in love with you and It’s so scary. You literally just walked into my life and at first I thought you were the worst and your hair is stupid. You’re not the worst though, not even close. “ 

“ What about my hair ? “ 

“ Still stupid “ 

He has to laugh. Because what else is there to do. What do you do when someone tells you they love you ? What do you do when you love them back ?

“ I never thought I could get so attached to someone so quickly and all my strong female instincts tell me to be careful and to not let myself fall too fast too quick. I’ve known you for a few weeks now and I — I feel like you’ve been all that was missing from my life for so long. It’s scary. It’s so scary.I know life isn’t a fucking fairytale and I am terrified of this crashing and burning but I — life gives me so few good things, I need to keep them close. I need to let myself feel them. “ 

Billy pushes himself up on the edge of the pool to be eye-level with (Y/N), hands placed firmly on the concrete floor.

She softly takes his face in her hands and brushes the wet strands out of his eyes.

“ I don’t need fancy dates and flowers and holding hands. I just want what we have to stay. That feeling of belonging. Of understanding each other. Of home. I like us together. I love us together. What we have that’s — good and it’s pure and — “ 

“ The sex is fantastic “ 

“ The sex is really fucking great yeah “ she says and chuckles through her tears “ We don’t have to think about the future, that’s so far away. I just wanna feel like home with you for as long as life lets us. Let me love you, sad boy “ 

Billy carefully, almost as if he fears breaking her, places his lips on hers. Maybe this is worth the anxiety and the fear. If he gets to feel like he’s feeling right now, safe and appreciated and warm and — loved. Maybe if this can stay, it’s worth the fear of losing it. 

Maybe being afraid of losing something isn’t so bad. 

Maybe it means you care. You love. 

Maybe it means that some things do matter.

Billy pulls back and looks deep in her eyes “ You know what ? “ 

“ What ? “ 

“ I think you’re way too dry right now “ 

“ Huh ? “ 

Before she can really think about his words, Billy has pushed himself out of the pool and swoops her up in his arms, taking a few steps back before breaking into a sprint and jumping into the cool water of the swimming pool.

He can feel her laughter vibrate against his chest. God, he wants to stay in this moment forever. Just them and the night and the unfiltered, untainted bliss of being young and in love. With a person. A feeling. With life.

As the water surrounds them, Billy opens his eyes and looks at her through a blurry vision. And just like that, he remembers. What it feels like to be one with the ocean, to forget all your problems and live for this one single moment when life seems easy. Light. Happy.

He remembers what home feels like.

The moon shines down on the two as they swim around pool, splashing each other and  getting lost in themselves and their kisses. In the unshakable truth that home is not a place but a person. A feeling of belonging. 

Taglist:

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic

[uavigilante]

Terrified (Pro Hero!Katsuki Bakugo x Pro Hero!Reader)

Rating: Teen/ Mature 

Genre: Angst and Fluff 

Warnings: Violence and Fear 

Description: A villain group has struck downtown and multiple hero agencies are called to help, including yours and Bakugo's. When he can’t find you after the battle, he panics. 

Quirk: Storm 

The reader can use the elements of a storm (water and lightning) to attack 

Word Count: 2,327

___

"(Y/N)! Watch out!" a wall of rock sprouted to your left, blocking a wave of smoke headed your way. With a grateful glance, you nodded at your partner. 

"Thanks, Onyx!" the woman nodded and you sprung back into action. Taking a running start, you launched yourself into the air, coming down with a fist aimed at one villain's face. The sickening crunch of their jaw fueled your confidences as he was sent flying into a brick wall. At the same time, another body soared over your head, entrails of smoke following their form before they skid to a stop against the asphalt. You didn’t need to look to know who caused that. The familiar scent of burnt caramel was all you needed to know. 

“Ground Zero, they called you guys in too?” Onyx asked after knocking a villain unconscious with a rock coated fist. The number two hero snorted. 

“Of Course they did, why leave it to the runts when I’m available?” Onyx rolled her eyes while you sighed at the attitude, letting your eyes linger on his lips a bit longer than you should. 

Onyx cleared her throat, “It looks like a lot of followers are around here, probably acting as distractions for a more dangerous villain up ahead. We better keep pushing. Uravity and Froppy have been handling the evacuations.” You snapped your attention to your partner and nodded. 

“Right!” Onyx started heading forward and Bakugo gave you a rare, small smile on his cracked lip. 

“Don’t go getting stupid, loser,” he muttered and you couldn’t help but smile. Bakugo Katsuki, your boyfriend of almost eleven months. Both of you made a pact to keep it a secret. As pro heroes, your lives were on display 24/7. You were the pinnacle of society and the media always tried to have eyes on you. 

When you and Katsuki had fallen for each other, you became each other little secret. It wasn’t our of embarrassment or shame— in fact, Katsuki would show you off to anyone if he could, proudly boasting about how his girlfriend was the strongest female hero. The secrecy came from being each other's little oasis, the escape from pressure. You were his sanctuary, safe from peering eyes, competition, or stress. 

You both wanted to keep it that way, so your relationship was hidden smiles, alleyway kisses, and fleeting touches before someone saw. 

“You two, Katsu,” you whispered before running to catch up with Onyx. 

“Civilians have been evacuated! I repeat civilians are evacuated!” The message playing in your mind from a telepathy quirk was emphasized as heroes stopped holding back, focusing on taking down the enemy with everything they had now that the risk of collateral damage was gone. Your (E/C) eyes flickered to your left, seeing Onyx about to get hit by a man with wings like a bat. Pushing energy under your feet, you leaped forward and kicked the man in the sternum. He coughed and sputtered before falling from the air, his wings wrapping around him like protection. 

“I owe ya one,” Onyx panted and you smiled. 

“Just returning the favor—“ you stopped when a woman, calmly walking onto the scene gave a crooked smirk at you and Onyx. An uneasy pit formed in your stomach. Her ease on a battlefield and the way the bat quirk user looked at her with fear gave you the idea that she was the leader—or someone similar. 

“Let’s get the real fun started, shall we?” Your eyes narrowed, glancing at Onyx and you both nodded, resolves set to take this villain on. 

“You’ll go down, just like the rest of them!” Onyx coated her fist in rock before charging at the woman donned in white. You watched her smirk widen as her hand reached out. 

“Onyx, no!” You screamed and dove for your friend, just as the woman’s hand wrapped around the rock. The surface splintered and cracked before shattering easier than glass. You tackled Onyx to the side before the cracks could spread to her arm, the two of you landing in the dust. 

“What the hell was that?” Onyx’s eyes stared at her bare fist. 

“Her quirk,” you muttered, turning your attention to her, “Fragment, right? They told us about you. Anything you touch, you can shatter it. You’re Frail, the one who keeps demolishing the city.” Her name was a contradiction to the damage she did. A week ago, a memo was sent to the agencies, warning them about her. 

“My, someone’s done their homework.” Your glare grew at her smug look, just wanting to wipe it off of her face. Frail leaped towards you both, each of you dodging before she could touch you. A cackling laugh left her lips, green eyes staring down you and onyx. 

“Go ahead, heroes, try to figure out how you can fight what you can’t touch.” You and Onyx kept dodging her advances, diving every direction to avoid her grasp. In the end, you both were panting, scrapped from ungraceful tumbles against the concrete. A wild idea popped into your mind as your fist tightened. 

“Enough running,” you muttered, “I’m a hero and I won’t back down!” You lunged for Frail with your fist surrounded by water, aimed at her cheekbone. 

“(Y/N)!” You didn’t move and watched as Frail dodged your punch. It was your turn to smirk. 

“What? Water not solid enough for you to use your quirk on?” You asked, just for Frail to snarl in your direction. 

“Onyx, go help others. You’ll be more useful there.” As much as Onyx hated to admit it, her quirk wasn’t compatible with fighting Frail. She nodded reluctantly. 

“Be safe, (Y/N)!” She called while running to help the other efforts. Your attention turned back to Frail, swirling water around both fists, ready to attack. 

“Now this should be really fun, huh?” You asked, turning her own words against her. 

——— 

Bakugo grunted, rolling his shoulder and hearing the pops. His suit was torn and he’d lost a gauntlet along the way, only adding to his sour mood. 

“I think that’s everyone,” Deku smiled. The group of heroes watched villains be placed in the back of police vans, chains clinking around their wrists and ankles. Onyx and Uravity gave each other a high five, but Bakugo kept looking around before his eyes went to Onyx. 

“Oi,” he said, “Where’s (Y/N)? You were with her, weren’t you?” The others took notice of your missing presence. Onyx furrowed her eyebrows. 

“We split up a while ago. She was fighting Frail and I wasn’t going to be much help. I thought she would’ve been done by now—“ Bakugos fist twisted in the front of her hero suit and pulled her face close to his. His crimson eyes bore into her black ones. 

“You left her fighting the fucking head of this group by herself and just now decided to mention it!?” He shouted, tightening his hold. Onyx gripped his fist and tried to wretch out of his hold. 

“If I stayed, I would’ve only been a liability! I was more help in the other fights!” She defended. Bakugo opened his mouth to shout something back before it happened. A lightning strike and a building crumbling. The sound was deafening, but it caught the attention of all the pros who were racing towards the commotion, Bakugo leading the group. They turned the block, seeing Frail in front of the rubble with her fingertips just grazing the former structure. Steam still coming from her unconscious body, Todoroki and Froppy went to make sure she was incapacitated. Bakugo wanted to vomit when he saw the rubble of the building, knowing exactly why the villain would have collapsed it. 

‘I swear you better not be dead under there,’ he thought, his throat burning at the thought of your body being crushed underneath this mess of concrete and plaster and glass. His hands gripped the pieces, starting to pry them up with grunts. Catching on, the other heroes came to his aid. Uravity ran around, touching the bigger pieces they couldn’t lift and move them off. Deku used his quirk to toss chunks to the side. Bakugo frantically clawed at pieces to move them, not caring when blood started leaking from his fingertips. 

‘You have to be alive, you have to be alive,’ he thought, gritting his teeth,’You can’t leave me like this! Not yet! I can’t lose you to some shitty villain!’ A frustrated growl left his lips. 

“(Y/N)!” He screamed, “Where the fuck are you!?” The other heroes looked at the panicked man. All of them were worried about their comrade and friend, but Bakugo was feral. 

A small noise, almost sounding like your voice caught his attention. It sounded like it was below him and it only fueled him to dig faster. He gripped a final piece, heaving it up and moving it to the side before his eyes widened. 

You were sitting in an air pocket, panting and clutching a bleeding wound on your left shoulder. Through strands of your (H/C) hair, you gave him a weak smile. 

“You found me,” you sighed, relieved that they had come for you. Bakugo dove into the pocket and hit his knees in front of your form, looking you over before you were pressed against his chest. One of his strong arms had wrapped around your waist while his other hand wove into your matted hair, keeping your face against his collarbone. 

“Katsu?” You asked, surprised by his display of affection. He didn’t answer for a moment. The hand in your hair moved slightly and you felt his thumb against the side of your neck. Your eyebrows furrowed before you realized what he was doing. Katsuki felt your heartbeat against the pad of his thumb, indisputable proof that you were alive and hadn’t left him. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He growled, pulling back he stared at you with angry eyes, “Our of all the stupid shit, you go and fight the leader by yourself and then get buried under a building!? You dumbass! You should have called for back-up! I would’ve come for you!” He shouted and your eyes widened at the outburst before softening. You brought your hand to his cheek, feeling him lean into the gentle touch. 

“Katsu, I’m okay, I promise,” you whispered, leaning forward to press your lips to his. Katsuki returned the gesture with vigor, letting his kiss convey all the emotions he couldn’t express: his fear, his relief, his love, all of it. When you both pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, (Y/N), or I’ll kick your ass myself.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his attitude before wincing. You were still injured, evident by the blood leaking from your shoulder. Katsuki carefully moved one arm to the middle of your back and one under your knees to pick you up, holding you close against him. The other heroes watched him jump from the air pocket with you in arms and smiled. They heard the altercation and couldn’t be more relieved that you were found alive. 

“You really had us scared, (Y/N)!” Deku beamed at the girl as Bakugo started to trudge past everyone in the rubble. 

“You kidding? Y’all can’t get rid of me that easy!” The other returned the smile you gave them, but Bakugo didn’t give you time to chat, setting his course for the ambulance a few yards away. He didn’t let you out of his grasp until he set you on the gurney for the paramedics. He tried to climb into the back with you when a man stopped him. 

“Sorry, Ground Zero, sir, only family can ride with the patients.” Bakugo growled in annoyance. 

“I’m her boyfriend and I’m fucking getting in!” His tone left no room for argument as he got in, sitting on the bench at your side. A part of you wanted to reprimand your boyfriend for getting angry with the man who was just doing his job, but you knew he did it because he was worried. His hand laced with yours, looking at them the entire time. The distant look in his eyes told you he had something on his mind, but you didn’t push it yet. 

—— 

After the hospital trip, you were cleaned up and only had a few bandages on your left shoulder, knuckles, and your right thigh. You had no lasting damage and even earned a few days off work to rest and recover. You changed into one of Katsuki’s old t-shirts and he took off his shirt, settling to climb into bed in his boxers. His arms gripped your waist tighter than usual and he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent before you turned to face him. 

“What is it?” You asked. The moonlight from the window softened his usual hard features and dulled his burning eyes. His hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, lingering to touch your cheek. 

“You have to be more careful,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off of your face. Your eyebrows furrowed. In your mind, you took no more risks than he or any other hero would have. 

“I was just doing my job. We picked a dangerous profession, love.” Katsuki sighed, pausing like he was trying to arrange his words in his mind. He knew he wasn’t the best communicator and was pushing himself not to bite your head off with a smart remark. 

“I can’t feel that again.” 

“Can’t feel what—“ 

“I can’t feel like I lost you again, (Y/N).” Your eyes widened and you softly kissed him before curling into his chest. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Katsu,” you whispered, “I love you.” Your eyes slipped closed, the exhaustion and overexertion of the day finally catching up to you. Katsuki stayed awake for a while, watching you sleep before finally closing his eyes. 

“I love you too, (Y/N).” 

------ 

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is the first thing I’m posting on this page so hopefully, this is a good start! 

#Bakugo #katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #Bakugo Katsuki angst #angst #bnha #bnha angst #reader insert #soft bakugo #fluff #Bakugo Katsuki fluff #pro hero bakugo

[narnie3313]

Finally

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Little Spicy, Some Angst Rating: Everyone Warnings: Language

Setting: Y/N (your name) became friends with Kirishima in UA and when you all graduated he and Bakugou became roomates and Kirishima offered you the spare room so you live with them. Kirishima is your best friend, you’re all 21 and are still sidekicks for the time being. Bakugou mostly ignores you since you don’t need to interact too much anyway.

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 This is my first fanfiction/imagine so enjoy....working on other stuff and improving as we speak :D

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“Honeys! I’m home!” You recognize the voice instantly as Eiji comes bounding through the front door.

You can’t help but laugh at his endless energy and constant smile. “Dinner’ll be ready in 20!” you call. It was your turn to cook tonight since you all work on a rotation so you’d decided on a quick beef stirfry so you didn’t have to do much after the shitty day you’d had.

“Awesome! Thanks y/n!” You hear him call just before the click of his bedroom door closes. Same routine every night; Announce he’s home, quick workout in his room, shower, then he spends the rest of the night in the living room with me and Katsuki (if Kat isn’t a moody bitch that night…..). You’d gotten so used to the routines of your roommates that it was all just second nature now after living together for 3 years.

*

*

“Dinner’s ready, guys!”

Almost as if they’d been waiting behind their doors, both boys rooms open up and they come grab their bowls and move to the balcony. Another routine. Every night while you eat together, you sit on your balcony overlooking the city and talk about the jobs you did during the day.

“Seriously? I had a run in with a civilian the other day that carried a ‘wand’ around and pretended his quirk was soft puffs of air.” you said as Kiri almost fell off his chair laughing. Bakugou just sat staring over the city. Some days he’d talk and share tiny snippets of his day but today he seemed extra broody.

You always checked on both the boys at night to make sure they were ok since you know that they both bottle their emotions up so every night you’d knock on their doors, walk in and ask if they need to talk or if they’re good and usually you’ll just get a “I’m fine.” from Bakugou. Kiri on the other hand would almost always talk your ear off for at least half an hour and you’d hug him then head to bed.

When you noticed how quiet and indifferent Katsuki looked you noted “I’ll have to pull whatever is going on from him later.” You didn’t want it to disturb the dynamic at home anymore than he usually does anyway.

As you all finished eating, Eiji took the dishes and washed them while you settled in front of the tv to wind down. You laid on your stomach on the shaggy rug while Katsuki perched on the corner of the couch and when Eijirou finished with the dishes he took up the other corner. You wished you could say it was nice just sitting like this in the quiet but something just felt off. You and Kiri kept giving each other little glances and then looking to Katsuki, who was completely ignoring the tv and staring down the hallway towards the front door. “Hey man, you good?” Eijirou asked.

“What?” Katsuki replied turning his head abruptly towards the redhead. “I’m fine. I’m going to bed.”

“O-Oh ok. Night.” You could hear the concern in Eijis voice as you watched boomboy walk to his room, his regular tall, strong stance now hunched and slow. Something was definitely up. He was already home by the time you’d gotten home today but he had stayed in his room so you hadn’t seen or heard anything from him today.

“What do you think?” Breaking you out of your thoughts, Kiri asks.

“Something is up. But there’s no way he’ll actually talk to me about it anyway but I’ll still go ask like usual and I’ll meet you in your room? It’s getting pretty late anyway.”

With that, you stood from the floor and slowly walked to Bakugous door. You always had to take a breath and straighten yourself up before knocking.

You’d never let yourself be taken back by his brash words or personality, I think that’s why he’d just kind of learnt to co-exist with you in the apartment. He’d known he and Kirishima had needed a 3rd  roommate to help with the rent and you were just a logical choice. Over the years he’d gotten used to your presence and (you’d like to think) maybe even shared the same sort of respect for you as he did with Kiri.

*Knock Knock* “Bakugou, can I come in?”

“…..Do I ever have a choice?”

“Well, not really. I just knock so I don’t walk in on anything gross.” You say as you walk in with a chuckle. You instantly see him sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. His head raises slightly as you see his crimson eyes half heartedly glaring up at you slightly.

“What’s going on? Eiji and I can see something’s off. Wanna talk?” Same as you offer every single night. But something is different tonight. He doesn’t answer. He just drops his head back into his hands and you see his breathing hitch. You don’t know whether you should walk over and place a hand on his back or rub his head or hug him…. All of a sudden you see a drop on his carpet and you realize….He’s crying. Katsuki, fucking, Bakugou is actually crying. You know the world must have stopped because never in a million years would he have allowed anyone, except maybe Kiri see him in such a state. Which makes it all the more worrying.

“Sh-Should I go get Kirishima?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“……No.”

With that you slowly walk over so you’re standing just to the side of him and place a hand on the top of his hunched back and sit next to him. Instantly feeling him loosen a little under your hand you rub a small circle.

“What happened?” You ask, watching his tears hit the ground.

“…..I lost someone.”

“What? Well that happens sometimes, Kat. People go missing a lot in our society. We can help you find them.”

“NO. I mean I LOST someone today, y/n.”

You suddenly realized the gravity of what he was saying. Someone died. He’s lost a civilian today. Suddenly you felt the need to pull him to you and just stroke his hair to help him. None of you had ever been so unlucky as to have someone die….well….not until today.

Before you could even think, your body was moving. Your hand that was on his back now wrapped around his shoulder and the other in his hair pulling his head down to your chest as you hold him tight. He doesn’t even fight you, but you feel his breathing getting more irregular and start to hear him sobbing and trying to hold it in. Taking a second to look around his room you only now start to notice the mess. Lamps, tables, pictures, posters…..all on the ground shattered and broken and torn. You realize he must have done this before you got home because you hadn’t heard anything. Looking around more and scanning over his bed, you notice the dark stains on his pillows. You feel your heart break knowing he must have been laying in here crying about this all while you were out there doing your own thing and cooking.

“Katsuki….I’m so sorry.” You know it doesn’t change anything. It won’t bring the person back or ease his pain. You feel so useless. You just hold him tighter, noticing his breaths starting to slow a bit, then feeling him leaning back into you slightly and you notice it…He’s fallen asleep. He must have exhausted himself with the rage and sadness. You can’t just leave him but what will he do if he wakes up in your arms tomorrow? Will he be angry at you for invading his space? None of that matters right now. He needs someone and he said no to you getting Kiri so what else are you meant to do….?

You lean back and try and shuffle up the bed slightly to try and get him as far onto the bed as you can but being as big as he is, it’s not an easy task. He stirs just as you give up and move one hand to the top of the bed to pull down his pillows under his back and your head, all while still letting him lay over your heart and stroking his hair. Only now in the light of the city coming through the window can you see how red and swollen his eyes are. Then you notice the bruises on his arms. When he’d been out of his room he had a jacket on, you guess to hide the bruises…..?

As you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, you can still feel the small hitches in his breath and you hope beyond hope that you can have a proper conversation about it tomorrow and help him. But for tonight, he just needs the comfort. So that’s what you’ll be.

*

*

You wake up unable to feel the arm that’s still under Bakugou. Neither of you had moved at all during the night, waking up in the exact same position, and you just know that you’re going to have hella body aches later on. You can see the blondes chest slowly rising and falling. He’s usually up well before sunrise so he must have really needed the sleep. You’re not game enough to move incase he wakes up so you carefully take your phone out of your pocket and see 3 messages from Kirishima.

Rockishima  

*11:34pm*

Hey everything ok?

 *12:24am*

Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him for Christ sake hahaha

 *1:13am*

Ok please don’t kill me for the last message but seriously….you guys good?

 Goddammit Eijirou.

 *8:24am*

Jesus Kiri really?? No I didn’t sleep with him. Not in that way anyway. He passed out and I didn’t want to leave him alone. Something happened yesterday but I didn’t get much out of him before he fell asleep. I’ll try talk to him more today. Sorry I didn’t get to have our chat last night either.

 You put your phone down next to you and thank god that you have the day off because honestly…you wouldn’t be able to move Bakugou off you if you’d needed to. The years had definitely been kind to him. He was always in good shape but pushing himself to always be better only made him better. He had bulked up considerably and suddenly shot up and now stood at 6ft 2…..towering over you who stood only 5”3. He’d improved his quirk over the years as well. Now he could fire blasts further without his gauntlets, he could produce small, almost silent blast which helped on recon missions. You’d never expect someone as explosive as Bakugou to be good at gentle and quiet missions but he’d surprised you. You were friends with a couple of people from Best Jeanists agency from the years of missions, some of which required teaming up with different agencies and heros and sidekicks. You’d even had a few missions with Bakugou and Kirishima. How you got teamed up with them though, you didn’t know. Your quirk was only really helpful once most of the work was done. Everyone else would wear down the villains and distract them while you watched until you felt their bodies weaken then you could control their muscle structure, effectively rendering them immobile and docile, making it easy to capture them.

Rockishima 

*8:35am*

Shit. Ok let me know if you need me to come home. I’ve got a day of paperwork anyway to catch up on the captures of the week so not too busy.

   *8:36am*

All good. I’ll do what I can. See you later.

 You let out a sigh that must have been a little louder than you’d expected since you suddenly felt Katsuki shift against your side. You stiffened almost instantly hoping not to have accidently woken him if he needed the rest. You watch as his arm moves from being tucked at your side and is suddenly thrown over your waist. All of a sudden, there’s a hand grabbing your hip and pulling you so you’re front to front against Bakugou with his head still at your chest and he’s holding you there tight….You wonder how often he must do this with his pillows and cover your mouth as much as you can trying to muffle the giggle. You feel his head move slightly and you are acutely aware of just how close his head is to your breasts….so close you can feel his burning breath on your chest….

 It doesn’t feel like he’s waking up just yet so you will your body to relax a bit, only now noticing how you’d tensed up at his movements a moment ago. you can feel yourself slightly brushing your nose through his hair, which, despite being so damn spiky, is surprisingly soft….and smells amazing. Like a campfire….and fuel. Which makes sense considering his quirk.

You can feel yourself drifting back to sleep with the strong yet gentle grasp of his arm over your waist.

When you awake again you’re on the bed alone but tucked in with Bakugous blankets but aware of how much colder it is….What time is it? You look for your phone only to see it on the bedside table next to your head.

2 New Messages

Boomboy

*2:43pm*

Lunch is in the kitchen. Make the bed. Went for a run.

 Rockishima

*2:56pm*

Got an early mark so I’ll be home about 3:30. Did you get to talk to him?

 “3PM?! How did he get up before me?! Dammit!” You get out of the bed quickly and throw your phone in your pocket and head towards the door before remembering to make the bed. Of course he needs order you think rolling your eyes. Looking around the room again you decide to clean up the broken glass and paper and try and make the room a bit better for him to get back to. You head out and straight into the bathroom for a shower.

As you’re getting out and wrap the town around yourself you hear Kiri come in the door and yell for you.

“I’m in the bathroom Eiji!”

Suddenly you regret your choice in words, or rather your lack of words, because he swings the door open quickly without so much as a knock, the surprise almost causing you to drop your towel.

“JESUS KIRI! WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“AHHH SORRY!” He says walking out and closing the door as quickly as he’d opened it.”I just thought you’d be cleaning or something, you usually lock it! I just wanted to see if you’d spoken to Bakugou?”

“Ok.” you say opening the door and walking to your room. “1. I didn’t lock the door because I was home alone and 2. No I haven’t. I fell back asleep this morning and when I woke up I was tucked into his bed and he was gone with a message saying he’d gone for a run so I imagine he’ll be back shortly. Wait here while I get dressed.”

“Ok so what happened exactly?”

“I told you I don’t know. he just said he lost someone yesterday.”

“Ok? And? People go missing all the time and it sucks but it happens…?”

“That’s what I said too but he doesn’t mean like that Kiri.”

“What? No. You don’t mean….?”

You walk out dressed and just nodding your head as you see Kiri slump against the wall and throw his head back.

“Dammit. No wonder he was off. So what happened last….”

You both turn as you hear the front door open. “Don’t say anything to him. I don’t know if he wanted anyone to know.” you whisper to Kirishima as he nods.

“Hey man! Look like you pushed yourself pretty hard. You still up for training?” You watch as Bakugous head looks to Kirishima then gazes down past Kiri to your face and lingers for a second, and you could swear you see a tinge of pink on his cheeks. He jerks his head back to Kiri too fast for you to really see though.

“Let’s go.” Is all he says as he throws a dangerous glance to the redhead. You watch as they both exit and just before the door shuts, you could swear you catch Katsu staring at you.

 What the hell was that? you whisper to yourself as you start busying yourself around the apartment.

*

*

Through the noise of your headphones you hear the click of the front door and look up from the book you’re reading on your bed, having left the door open to see when the boys returned. You wait to see them walk past your door into the living areas or the bathroom but everything starts feeling as if it was moving in slow motion… First you see a large figure start to enter your door frame and immediately notice it’s not one of the boys. The guy spots you and extends his arm but before he could do anything you roll off your bed down the side and under the bed as you watch his feet walk around the other side you rolled off, you roll out the other side and run out of your bedroom, slamming the door behind you hoping to buy you some time.

You turn right towards the front door and run straight out into the corridor only to run head first into someone. You feel your heart sink as 2 large hands wrap around your biceps holding you still. You instantly kick at their shins and when you hear a loud “WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?!” only then do you decide to actually look at who you ran into. Bakugou….looking more than a little surprised and an equally shocked Kirishima right next to him.

“What the hell’s the matter?!” they say together.

All you can get out is, “There’s someone in the apartment!”

Before you can even finish your sentence both of the boys have dropped their gear and are at the front door. You stand on the opposite side of the corridor watching as they enter slowly, giving each other silent cues. They’ve always worked perfectly together. Like twins that can read each others minds. The years of training had only strengthened that and watching them move as one was truly fascinating. You stood, holding their gear, outside watching them sweep each room before Kirishima came back out and took the gear from you with a concerned look as he spoke;

“We checked each room. There’s no one there.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just see something?” Bakugou said in his usual brash tone as he came towards the front door.

“Yes you condescending prick. I know what I saw. There was someone there. I heard the front door click and I just thought it was you guys home so I sat up on my bed thinking I’d see you guys walk past, then there was a guy in my doorway and he started reaching his arm up at me so I rolled off the bed and under and out the other side and ran. Then obviously ran into you out here.”

You could see Bakugous face change from his regular scowl to something like confusion as he looked at Kirishima and shrugged. “Well there’s no one there now.”

“Ok fine.” Kirishima pulled you into a hug, taking note of the look of fear on your face. Facing villains everyday was normal for you but when it was in your own house. Your safe space….it made the experience feel different.

“I’ll start doing dinner. Boomyboy, take her and sweep the house again with her so she feels safe yeah?” Kirishima said as he started to walk inside.

Bakugou just looked at you with a look that you couldn’t really make out. Concern, maybe? But still, he obliged. He let you stay behind him as he walked into your room. Your first thought was under your bed or your closet so as you got down on your knees and saw nothing you felt a little better. as you walked towards the closet, you felt sick in your stomach though and brushed it off as just nerves. How wrong you were.

The moment you opened the closet door something, or someone, fell into you and before you could even react, Bakugou had knocked the guy into the opposite wall as you saw the explosion from his palm. Kirishima appeared at the door suddenly hearing the commotion and when our eyes left the intruder for a second to look at Eiji, the intruder was gone again.

Kirishima rushed to crouch next to me then looked at Bakugou, whos eyes where stuck on the slight dent where the intruder had hit the wall, then looked at you and rushed to you.

“Y/n, what happened?” Kiri asked. Bakugous eyes never leaving the spot on the wall.

“I-I don’t know. I went to check the closet…and someone fell into me. Bakugou blasted him over the other side.” You say looking at Bakugou who hadn’t moved nor looked away, but you noticed he was shaking.

“Dude, you ok??

“Kiri….I think he’s in shock. Look at him….” You say.

Kirishima stays in place where he is as if he doesn’t know what to do as you slowly, as if approaching a wild dog, get to your feet and take slow, soft steps towards Bakugou. Reaching out a hand touching his shoulder, you step in front of him to see his eyes completely lost.

“Katsuki. Look at me.” You say cupping his cheeks to make him shift his gaze. “It’s ok. No one was hurt. What’s wrong?”

You watch as his eyes slowly move to yours and a mix of tears, confusion and anger start to burn in his irises. “Th-That was the person who died yesterday. I saw them die. I….I wasn’t fast enough. The building dropped. He was crushed….H-How?”

You and Kirishima share a glance, not knowing how to proceed, so you just hug him, only to find him gently grab your shoulders and push away, never breaking eye contact.

“How did he get in here? Where did he go? It’s like he is materializing in different spots because I checked the closet and he wasn’t there.” Kirishima says, standing next to Bakugou.

“Maybe it’s a quirk? Maybe he didn’t die. Maybe he got out Kat.” You say, your eyes never leaving his.

“I-If he got out then….that means….he wasn’t a civ.” He says shaking his head. You and Kirishima give each other a glance, knowing that you have to try and get more of the story out of him. You take Bakugous arm and sit on the end of your bed with him while Kirishima crouches in front of Katsu.

“Tell us what happened.” Kirishima says to Bakugou simply.

Bakugous eyes trail down to the ground as he grips his knees with a bruising strength.

“We were just out on patrol and saw a building on fire. Didn’t think too much of it but as we got closer to investigate…” His breath hitches and you can see him tense, “As we got closer, we saw people inside and saw that the building supports were gonna come down. We ran in and got, what we thought was, everyone out. Did what we were meant to do, waited outside for the emergency services but I turned around to scout out the building and make sure there was no one around….and….” You could see the way his eyes darted around behind his closed eye lids and knew that it must have really gotten to him. For Bakugou to be this shaken….”…and I saw someone inside the flames. I didn’t even think before I moved…I was just back inside the building with the flames around me and I couldn’t see the person anymore so I yelled out and heard something behind me so I turned around and I saw him. It was a man that looked like he was in slow motion and he raised an arm like he was reaching for me….but before I could get to him…a support fell on him and I tried to get to him but too much of the floor dropped on him and I couldn’t do anything. The next thing I knew, I was back at the agency being sent home due to shock.”

“Di-Did they find any bodies in the rubble?” You asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked.”

“Maybe he didn’t die? Might be a teleportation quirk?” Kirishima says as he stands up.

“Doesn’t explain why he was here though. If he survived. Or why y/n heard the front door. Or why he was sat in a closet?”

“True. Call Jeanist and see if he can tell you if they found bodies in the rubble? At least with that answer you’ll know if it’s either the same person…or maybe a shapeshift quirk.” you say to Bakugou.

“I’m going to do dinner. We all need to eat.” Kirishima says, already out the door.

Bakugous eyes stay glued to the floor.

“Everything will be ok. We’ll sort this out.”

“How the fuck do you know that? Yesterday I thought someone had died on my watch, now today their haunting me?” Bakugou says in his blunt tone.

“Not to make this about me, but it kinda seems like whatever or whoever it is, is after me?” You say with a small giggle, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Bakugous eyes were suddenly on you and there was no mistaking the emotion radiating from him this time. Fear.

“Hey, cool it. We face worse than this everyday. We’ve got this.”

His eyes were just stuck to yours. You could see he was playing over every single scenario in his head and could watch the emotions on his face change. From fear to guilt to anger back to guilt.

“Hey, do you remember that time we all sat in that shitty little car park late at night, eating those disgusting chips from the petrol station with the broken sign?” You ask. Hoping to distract him.

He looks at you with an expression you can’t read. “Um, yeah. Why?”

“That was the first time I heard you laugh, you know that? Also the first time I ever saw you smile.” You say, a little embarrassed but that feeling is quickly replaced with accomplishment when he looks straight into your eyes and you can see the corner of his lip twitch up a little.

“Wow…you in love with me or something, huh?”

“Hey, not gonna lie. I had a massive crush on you in the last year of school, but who didn’t?” You say rolling your eyes with a giggle.

Bakugou looks at you with a strange expression and his eyes start to dart around your features.

“Did have? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Well, you’ve never been the most approachable guy Katsuki.”

“Better than letting people take advantage of me.” He says dropping his head for a second, then looking back at you. “Remember any other weird little facts like that?”

“Oh, um….a couple,” You say with a little blush, and it does not go unnoticed. “I remember that I was the person the teachers trusted enough to let you out of the restraints after the sports festival our first year since I could subdue you a bit.” You say with a chuckle. “I remember the first day we went driving with Kirishima. You were holding the door so tight your knuckles turned white because you were so scared of his driving.” This one you break out into an all out laugh. Bakugou follows you and laughs as well.

“Oh yeah? I seem to remember your nails ripped the shoulder of our seats you were holding so tight too.” He said laughing harder.

“Hey! We both know that bastard doesn’t pay enough attention to the road! Can you blame me?”

Bakugou just kept his eyes on you as your head settles back to watching him. Before you could move or gather your thoughts or even think of another memory, one of his hands were on the back of your neck into your hair and the other was on your waist as he pulled you closer and his lips were on yours. You couldn’t help but look at him in shock as he kissed you.

Bakugou was kissing you. HE kissed YOU. You had dreamt of this moment. You’d never gotten over your feelings for him, just hidden them so as not to conflict with the living conditions or the friendship you’d built with him or Kirishima. But here, in this moment, you didn’t think about that. Instead, couldn’t help but surrender to him, closing your eyes and taking in his scent. The smell of fire was even stronger since he’d just finished a workout. Your hands found their home in his hair, gently grasping onto him to remind yourself this was actually real. When he noticed you soften to him, he leaned into you slightly as his tongue flicked across your lip, as if asking for entry to your mouth. You opened your lips slightly and he didn’t miss a second. He was gentle. Like he was testing the waters to see what you’d allow him to do.

 “Dinner’s ready guys!”

And just like that, he pulled back in shock and you were left leaning forward with his hands not leaving your body but his head directed to the door.

“Coming!” Bakugou yelled back. He turned his head and rested his forehead on yours and looking softly into your eyes, “Are you ok?”

Were you? It felt like with just that touch of his lips that he had pulled all the air from your body. You’d kissed people before and it had never felt like that. So why….

Before you could think too much, Bakugou stood up with your hand in his, kissed you on the cheek and walked led you to the door before dropping your hand and walking to the kitchen.

The whole time you were eating he would keep glancing at you. The same while you did the dishes. The same while you took up your spot on the shaggy rug to watch tv. You were tense….but not in a scared way….tense because you didn’t know what that kiss meant…or if it meant anything for that matter. But why would he kiss you? Why would he be that soft? You’d seen Katsuki with women before. He was rough. Just like his attitude. He was dominating.

You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the show or anything else.

“Alright, I’m going to bed. We’ve all got the day off tomorrow, yeah?” Kiri said, standing to head to his room.

“Yeah, I’m not back till Thursday next week.” Bakugou followed up.

“Um, y-yeah I’m off tomorrow and back on Monday.” You answer looking over your shoulder to give him a gentle smile goodnight.

“Cool. Go out for breakfast?”

You and Bakugou nod as Kirishima heads down the hall and you watch as his door closes. As you go to turn your head back to the tv, you notice Bakugou looking directly at you with a look on his face you can’t really make out in the city light. You start to feel nervous about what he could be thinking. Without warning, you stand up and walk out to the balcony and lean on the railing hoping the fresh air will clear your thoughts.

 Not long after you drop your head to look at all the lights of the city, you hear the glass sliding door open and without looking you know its Kat. You know this is going to be an awkward conversation so you psych yourself up to say the first word. He kissed you. He made this situation awkward so you’ll be damned if you’re going to have this talk on his terms, you reason. Ok. We kissed. We’re both adults, it meant nothing. We’re friends. We can move forward without it being wei……………rd……

All your thoughts leave your mind when you feel two large hands rest on your hips and his body press flush against your back. What is he doing….You feel his head drop down to your neck as his hot breath brushes your skin as he presses a kiss to the skin just behind your ear. You feel your whole body and insides just melt. NO. You’re not a school girl! You need to talk about this!

You turn quickly hoping to surprise him and break him out of whatever trance he’s in. “Stop.” You say with shaky breath. But he doesn’t move, and you’re aware of just how close he is to you and your lips.

“W-we need to talk about this…and the kiss….before….” You freeze….knowing that adding the ‘before’ part is implying there is something more coming….Your cheeks turn bright red at the thought of you….and Kat…..together.

“What is there to talk about?” He says standing up and putting a little more distance between your faces.

“W-Well, we’re both adults…” “Mhm…” “And you kissed me…and we’re friends…” “Mhm…” “I’m sure we can just forget about it and pretend it didn’t happen….nothing has to change…I guess.” You can feel your voice break at the last few words even though you’re trying to hold yourself as strong as possible. His eyes stare right through you and you swear you can feel a beam of heat from his eyes into yours. His…gorgeous…shining….red….eyes….Dammit y/n you are not 18 anymore!

“And if I don’t want to forget the kiss?” he says as confident as ever. How did he go from stressing out earlier to this?!

“Well….wa-wait…what?”

He grabs your chin with his hand and tilts your head up to look at him. “Do YOU want to forget the kiss?”

“I-I…..No….But,”

“No buts. Yes or no. Because if you do, I’ll walk away right now and go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened, but if you don’t…..”

“’Suki…..”

His eyes slightly widen and you can see he likes the pet name you’ve never used before since you thought he’s berate you for it being all cutesy….

“Say it again” He says as he leans in and presses another kiss to just under your ear. “If you don’t want this, princess, you need to push me away. Now.”

You rest one hand on the railing and the other on his chest but don’t push. Everything in your mind is screaming at you to push him away. Don’t let this go further. Don’t take this risk. But your body is begging to pull him closer. To feel the heat of his body on yours.

Your body wins. He’s placing slow, gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder as your hand finds his shirt and pulls him closer and that’s all he need to confirm what he needed. Within seconds, he placed a hand on your cheek and the other stays on your hip. Pressing a soft but yearning kiss to your lips. This time, he doesn’t ask for entry, your body just gives way instantly. When his lips leave yours, you feel the air pull from your body all over again. His kisses are slightly harder on your neck, mixed with bites.

“ …..’Sukiiii” You can’t help but let out a moan as his bites and kisses and licks getting harder. When he hears you whimper that little name he lets out a low growl from his chest and you know this night isn’t going to be all snuggles and kisses…..It was a long….long night.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bakugou #kirishima #mha bakugou #mha #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader

[aubreyweston]

When: Freshman Orientation 2017 👀

Where: the hall where all the freshmen get to learn about clubs and activities on campus

Who: Aubrey and @smythenyu

Warnings: nothing they’re just bickering but we love a first meeting!

Word Count: 1,364

aubrey's orientation day had been going better than he'd expected. he'd woken up, sick to his stomach with nerves, and afraid he'd made an awful choice in deciding not to stay in minnesota for school, but as the day had gone on, he'd felt himself relaxing. but that also might've been his meds.  it was kind of hard to tell these days. still, he'd met a lot of people that seemed friendlier than he'd expected. he'd attended as many sessions as he could, and taken a lot of notes. possibly too many notes. but he knew how much an education at nyu cost, and even if the school was paying his way, he wasn't going to waste a second of it. now that most of the important sessions were over, he'd decided to go check out the clubs and see if anything tickled his fancy on campus.

sebastian had been to new york many times throughout his life and when deciding upon a college he wanted to switch it up a little from the san diego beaches he was used to at home with his mom. new york had seemed the obvious choice. sebastian felt like he flourished in big cities. he was also consciously aware of the fact that the orientation date was the same as the soul date on his wrist. even if he didn’t believe in all the soulmate bullshit, it had been drilled into everyone from such a young age as something to aspire for. if sebastian did meet his soulmate it was going to be today. he made his way through the stalls, in search of the lacrosse stand, eager to join as he’d played most of his life. he pushed his way through the crowd of students, stumbling slightly right into someone from behind. “fuck.”

aubrey was reading a pamphlet about the campus radio station when someone bumped into him. he turned, and frowned, before his expression softened minutely when he came face-to-face with a very attractive male. "are you good?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "kinda shitty how they crammed us all into this tiny hall, huh?" he said, gesturing at the crowded room. aubrey wasn't even a claustrophobic person and the number of students in the little extracurricular hall was making him feel suffocated.

sebastian blinked as he looked up at the boy when he turned around, a smirk slowly tugging at his lips as he looked him over. “yeah, i’m good,” he murmured, pleased to see a pretty face amongst the crowd. “yeah, it’s terribly inconvenient,” he said as someone pushed past again and he was nudged closer to the other boy, chuckling as he steadied himself against his chest. “sorry,” he drawled.

aubrey was about to reply when someone pushed into the other again and suddenly they were much closer than he'd anticipated. "um, it's fine," he said, taking a deliberate step back, not caring if he was the one knocking into another student this time. he'd rather be another asshole in the crowd than be that close to someone he'd literally just met. in the back of his mind he knew today was the stupid day on his skin, but he'd made a conscious effort to not think about it, and not let it colour his decisions. he glanced back down at the piece of paper in his hands. "were you looking into the radio station too?"

sebastian chuckled softly, glancing up at the stand as he spoke. he raised his eyebrows, “not exactly, no. i was looking for lacrosse actually. what are you studying?”

lacrosse. the word almost makes him snort. it's a rich boy's sport through and through. but aubrey has manners sometimes so he keeps that thought to himself. "journalism. and social work. and i have a psych minor," he admits. it's a mouthful every time he says it, and sometimes he's afraid he's bitten off more than he can chew. "you?"

sebastian nodded, smiling as he ran a hand through his hair. “oh nice. i’m majoring in international law and minoring in mandarin,” he said. maybe he was bragging a little, especially considering that he barely knew any mandarin at this point in time. could you blame him? this guy was hot. “i’m sebastian,” he introduced himself then, holding out his hand.

lacrosse player who wants to be a lawyer, could this guy possibly be any more of a stereotype, aubrey thought to himself. "mandarin sounds cool. i literally can't speak any languages other than english and some very broken, basic spanish but i wish i knew more of them." he said, before reaching out to take the proffered hand and shaking it. "i'm aubrey."

sebastian grinned softly, “nice to meet you, aubrey,” he said, “interesting name, it’s cute.” he got pushed again and sighed, “do you wanna come to a party tonight? the frat i’m rushing is throwing one.”

aubrey shot him a small smile at the compliment, before he glanced back at the radio stand and reached down to scrawl his name on the email sign up sheet. when he looked back up, sebastian was once again closer than he'd been before, and his question had him tensing up slightly. "thanks for the invite but it doesn't really sound like it's my scene."

“how do you know what your scene is? we’re freshman,” he said, chuckling. “maybe i can get your number at least,” he said, moving closer now of his own accord, smirking softly.

"i didn't realize our personalities only develop once we become sophomores," he snarked, crossing his arms. "i know i don't like greek life and i don't like parties and i don't like people embarrassing themselves in public so. not my scene," he said, glancing around the room to see if he could spot the baking society table. he frowned, blinking back over to sebastian when the other took another step closer. "i'm from minnesota. i don't have a new york number yet."

sebastian sighed, “you can just say if you’re straight,” he drawled, stepping back slightly and raising an eyebrow. guys normally were falling at his feet for his number.

"i hate to break it to you champ, i can be incredibly not straight and also incredibly not interested," he said, rolling his eyes. "i know that probably hurts your fragile ego."

sebastian’s eyebrows lifted higher, laughing softly in disbelief and shaking his head, “wow, rude,” he murmured.

"i'm sure you'll get over it," aubrey replied dryly. "there's like 7000 freshman here." so maybe he was being a little prickly, but the audacity of this sebastian to just waltz over and expect aubrey to fall over for him just because he was cute? ugh.

sebastian huffed, “we’ve been talking for less than a minute and you’ve already decided what about me?”

"that you're probably full of yourself if you think the only reason someone wouldn't come to your silly party or give you a number that literally doesn't exist yet is because they must be straight, and not because they might possibly just not be interested," he said, more of his own irritation seeping into his voice. "have you considered that some people want to attend higher education for the education part? i'm not here to find a boyfriend."

sebastian blinked, snorting slightly. “who says those things are mutually exclusive? besides, i wasn’t exactly asking you to be my boyfriend, babe.”

the babe had his hackles rising. "not your babe. and not interested in being your what — fuck buddy? one night stand? whatever, either," he said, wrinkling his nose. "they're not mutually exclusive but i'm also not interested in distractions."

sebastian shook his head again, “whatever, nerd,” he said, rolling his eyes and stepping back, “enjoy your boring life i guess.”

"thanks. i will. if you spent less time bothering people, you might've noticed the lacrosse table is over there, between ski/snowboard club and the nyu republicans," he replied, smirking as he pointed in the direction of the table, which he'd spotted while they were talking.

sebastian glanced over his shoulder at the table, huffing again and not giving the other a response, turning and strutting off towards the lacrosse stand.

#f2f #para #sebastian #flashback

[enkisstories]

Just like them (part 13)

Still the kitchen in Gavin’s apartment, still November 18th

“He’s…” Gavin started and already Tina blinked due to the unexpected use of a pronoun other than “it” for an android out of her friend’s mouth.

“I’m…” Daniel said only a split-second afterwards and then both men stopped, because why should they take it upon themselves to explain anything, if that other guy could take the blow just as well? Come on, asshole, make yourself useful!

Tina looked from one to the other. At his point Jin forced himself between the adults, dragging Lucky behind him as if he was a teddy bear. The adolescent cat didn’t seem to mind. Being the center of the attention and getting all the treats definitely beat playing surrogate dad for three kittens!

“Can we have fish sticks today, mommy?” the boy crowed. “With ketchup!”

Gavin jumped up and picked his phone up from the kitchen table. “On it, junior!”

“Order salad with the finger food! Do you hear me, Gavin? Salad! Three!”

Covering the phone’s microphone with his hand, Gavin replied: “Geeze, Tina, are you sure you can manage three salad on your own?”

“One for you, me and Jin each!” the officer growled back, but Gavin only laughed.

Now Daniel rose, too, and in the same fluent movement took the phone off the human.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Shhh! I’m making a call here!”

Let’s see… Subject 1: “Reed, Gavin”… Territorial, competitive, also a bit of a human cat. Will want cuddles while chewing on a still living spider. Current mood: surprisingly outstanding.

<<<Error… error… no path found for “surprise”>>>

Shut up, Cyberlife. I AM surprised, deal with it.

Add_to_simulation: Subject 2: “Chen, Tina”… Introvert, female version of subject 1, also asian, so highly likely not to be able to digest milk products, will enjoy them anyway just BECAUSE. Current mood: Existing (=default)

Add_to_simulation: Subject 3 Reed-Chen, Jin… A little Gavin, bright mind, easily excited, still believes the best of everyone. Current mood: Happy, but exhaustion slowly setting in.

Aaaaand… Start_simulation

>>>Results in, save to database Y/N

>>>Y and open file

Ew, really, Gavin? Tuna & pineapple? Nah, that’s close, but not quite correct. Tina gets the pineapple crime, Gavin is even worse. And not that literally a cat either.

>>>Save changes & close file

“Yes, Reed here, customer ID 393804. We’d like one large shrimps & tangerine pizza, one large pizza Hawaii with extra chicken, one Captain’s Galley kiddie meal with the octopus rings, a lava cake, a small german cheesecake and an apple turnover with raisins. What salads do you have? I’m getting nagged to order one, is there a low on leaves alternative, maybe? Tomato salad, you say? Yeah, that might be a good compromise, we’d like three of those, please. For drinks a large rootbeer extra frothy, a large rootbeer licorice, a medium apple juice with a straw, plastic… What? No, I wasn’t insulting you. I didn’t even KNOW you were an android. I just want a plastic straw for our kiddo. It’s bad for the environment? You only have metal ones? Okay, one of those then, but it better fucking glows! Oh, and throw in a small thirium smoothie, whatever that is supposed to be. Not all of us are fortunate enough to snag a job in the snack industry… or any job at all. Yes, that was all. Thank you!”

Daniel turned around to where Gavin stood gape-jawed.

“How… how did you do that?!” the man gasped. “I mean, I have a pretty good idea how, but… HOW?”

So it wasn’t just the Connors with their fancy crime scene analyzing software. Even the simplest Cyberlife devices seemed to be able to see right through a human. And with their safety locks off, what would hold the deviants back, prevent them from turning the tables and enslaving humanity?

Years of policework of course could have supplied the answer easily: Socialization. Every human was perfectly able to kill every other, but only a rare few actually did so. For their own good the humans had to integrate the androids into their society and better sooner than later, so that one day any given android and human in the USA had more in common with each other than with a foreign human or android.

But none of that was on the forefront of Gavin’s mind in this moment. He only felt the cold chill of standing right across from the creepy machine that had seen right through him. What else might it have picked up? On the other hand, there were that damn smile and Daniel’s playful reply to Gavin’s outburst:

“What shitty person would I be if I didn’t know my best friend’s tastes? Cyberlife suggested tuna, but… ah, you cringe. Haha, knew it!”

“What was that just now about “best friend”?” Tina inquired. “You do not mean to tell me that you are friends with an android?”

The men exchanged quick glances. The game was on and Tina their first test person…

“Yeah, totally”, Gavin confirmed, to which Daniel added: “We go, uh, waaaaayy back!”

“Best friends, huh…” Tina crossed her arms, trying to come to a decision whether she should believe that or not. Her face brightened up when she got an idea: “What’s the android’s name, Gavin?”

“Daniel. Daniel Phillips. I could even tell you his registration number, but won’t, because that would be rude.”

Good save, Daniel thought, but then an unwelcome thought crossed his mind: Am I supposed to know your badge number?

It didn’t seem to matter, since first and foremost it was Gavin getting tested here, not his android (pretend) friend. Or was it? Because Tina now turned her attention to the PL600!

“I think I know you”, she mused aloud. “You’re the PL600 from the evidence archive, aren’t you?”

“Yes. We talked a few times at the DPD, remember? When I reported the burglary.”

“Yes, yes I do!” Tina smiled sympathetically at both men now. “So… wow, Gavin! So that’s why you got all enraged when Connor entered the archive! You were on your way to Daniel and it was interrupting!” * see footnote

Gavin shook his head frantically. He waved his hands in front of his body and would almost have taken a step back, had he not realized it and forced himself to not do that.

“Tina, no, it’s not what you think!”

“Yes, that’s how it happened”, Daniel said at the same time, completely at ease.

“No!” Gavin yelled, almost in desperation. What had gotten under his skin, Daniel wondered?

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” Tina exclaimed. “So you’re done pretending to be hetero? But we’re still friends with benefits, right? Don’t you dare cancel the arrangement or I’ll sue you out of your retirement funds and then some!”

Gavin didn’t even wait for his friend to finish her little speech. When Tina had reached the “happy”, he grabbed Daniel by the shoulder, turned the android around and pushed him towards the door.

“Out! At once!”

Not comprehending what exactly was happening here, Daniel found himself in the floor, but that was as far as he’d let himself get herded without an explanation. Daniel broke free from the detective’s hold the moment the human got ready to push him against the wall, something Gavin needed to adjust his posture for a little. But that little was enough.

When the android asked “What’s the matter, Gavin?” next, it sounded as neutral as he was able to make it, with even a hint of concern strewn in. The human needed to realize that Daniel wasn’t his enemy, although by all rights they should be enemies. For some reason that hadn’t happened. But the way Gavin was glaring at Daniel, that seemed to have changed.

“Why did you say that?” Gavin growled. “We had a pact, but here you go, betraying me at first opportunity? Caught some of Connor’s code or what?”

The accusation stung, so Daniel smacked Gavin, a single time only. From Daniel’s brief experience with those particular humans that seemed to equal the normal code of conduct among the DPD officers, where senior officers occasionally held each other at gunpoint. And indeed, the friendly gesture got registered as such.

Gavin still had a hard time processing all the change. One moment the android stabbed him in the back, the next it was so fucking polite again?

“Look, I have no idea what you are talking about!” Daniel stated.

“Ha! As if you didn’t know what folks meet in the archive for!”

“Registering evidence…”

“Sh’ya right!” Gavin spat. “The basement is the DPD’s make-out spot! How couldn’t you know, after having been there for three months?”

“Let me think, how about I was… deactivated?”

“Oh. Oh, right.”

Gavin exhaled sharply. No betrayal. Good, good. But even so…

“Tina now thinks we’re dating!”

“Ever since August? Wow. We must be truly in love. But also a bit insecure about it, if nothing came of it so far…”

Again Gavin’s left arm shot forward to grab the android, the right hand balled up into a fist that he held threateningly towards Daniel.

“Don’t mock me, tin can!”

“Stop!” Daniel yelled. “We are each other’s best shot at what we want! And afterwards will discard each other…”

The android had intended to state this as a matter of fact, but couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. It wasn’t even directed towards Gavin, but himself. It was as Geeta had said the day Daniel had gotten released from the archive: Deviance meant becoming human and he, Daniel, had achieved that feat now. Using and discarding, emotionless, only looking out for yourself, just like the humans did. He had become like John Phillips.

“Fuck, Daniel…”

Gavin was still holding the deviant by his sweater, but now place the other hand, that had been a fist until now, on Daniel’s shoulder. But then he didn’t know what to do or say next or why he had done it in the first place. Comforting a household appliance, that just wasn’t done! Or, if the deviants were more than robots, after all, comforting an enemy… Okay, that was a little less crazy, but still ill-advised.

Since neither of the two moved, this was how Tina found the men.

“Discard?” she repeated what little of their exchange she had picked up. “You aren’t breaking up now, are you?”

“No, of course not!” Gavin sputtered.

What he had meant to convey was that he couldn’t break up with Daniel, because they were not together. But Tina of course had to misunderstand him.

“Right”, she said. “That would be stupid, now that you two can be open about it.”

Gavin didn’t correct Tina. His purposeful misleading of the friend left a bad aftertaste, though, because he couldn’t recall a time when they had kept secrets from each other. Gavin knew he needed to let Tina in on the scam, just not right now. Everything was confusing enough as it was.

Meanwhile Tina’s thoughts had reached a point that generated a whole new level of threat for the pretend friends: “I guess we have to thank Markus for giving you that chance. I have to give him that, even though the sucker played a dirty trick on me at Capitol Park. I think he’s set up a twitter account? I need to text him, tell him about the two of you…”

“What have we done…” Gavin moaned. “I think I could stomach a salad now, after all!”

And the android arm that Daniel slung around his shoulders at these words didn’t help at all…

Footnote: I’m referencing another story idea I’ve toyed with here. Indigo turned it into a full-fledged fic that you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499176?view_full_work=true

#dbh #detroit become human #dbhtextpost #danielgavinnewstory

[jakegyllenhaalsupportgroup]

Jack’s Story

So this is Jack’s Coming Out Story - I as a straight female have obviously never had to go through anything like this at all before so please read this and let me know if I’ve got anything wrong or if anything makes any of you uncomfortable and I’ll be more than happy to change it 

From the moment Jack had set eyes on him he had known he was fucked.

He had run into Robert in a cafe a little longer than a week into the term, the two of them having known each other as a result of Freshers week.

“Hey, Jack! How are you?” Robert beamed at the man. Jack adjusted his hat and took Robert’s hand with a smile.

“I’m good thanks, you?”

“Yeah, I’m good - I’m here with my roommate, have you met him?” Robert asked innocently.

“Don’t believe so, no,” Jack said with a shrug.

Robert stepped out of the way and Jack could have sworn he was in a shitty romance film with how everything else seemed to slow down just a little bit upon revealing the other man.

“Jack Twist,” he introduced, swallowing hard and offering his hand. The blond man nodded his head, taking the hand.

“Ennis Del Mar.”

Jack kind of wanted to hate the man from how he made his heart flutter just from one look. 

Jack had always known that he wasn’t like the other kids at home. The other boys, more like. But he came from such a conservative town from such old-fashioned parents that he knew there was no chance of him being able to come out back home.

It was part of the reason why he had been so eager to move out of state for university, to get away from the small town and the people with equally small minds.

Back home he had tried to hide his sexuality when people began to get suspicious through dating a girl. Lureen. She was a rider. 

Jack had broken up with her after a few months. Well, she had really broken up with him but he always said he was the reason for their split. Which, truthfully, he was. Lureen had cottoned on to the longing looks Jack would give to the other boys in their classes. She had him figured out.

Though she had swore not to tell, knowing that it was an important aspect of Jack’s life that he needed to sort out himself.

Lureen had also met Jack’s parents before and knew exactly what their reaction would be.

But the damage had been done and the rumours surrounding Jack’s sexuality had begun to die down.

Even without the whispers following him everywhere he still had to get away.

///

Jack took every step he could in avoiding Ennis.

Only lately, mind. The past few weeks. Before that, the two of them had been close. Ennis was a dark, brooding man who Robert declared could only be brought to laughter by Jack.

And Jack had been more than willing to keep him laughing.

A part of him had even, genuinely, begun to think that Ennis liked him back in the same way that he liked him.

As soon as he found out about Alma, though, he hated himself for the hope that left a bitter-taste in his mouth now.

“I thought Ennis was coming?” Jake asked, his arm wound around Y/N’s shoulder, holding her to his chest and he kissed her temple lovingly.

Jack hated the jealousy that boiled in his stomach at the sight of such gentle domesticity.

“He is - but I think he’s bringing his girlfriend.” Robert said from the other end of the table where him and Donnie were attempting to talk Lou into taking shots with them.

“His girlfriend?” Jack asked, snapping to attention. Jake and Y/N looked at him in surprise at his sudden question. 

Morf frowned just a little at him from his place next to Jerry. Morf’s arm was around his flavour of the week - a man called Ed that the rest of the group liked but Quentin wasn’t so sure about since he had thought Derek was just a really long, misshapen rat and had thought Quentin was playing a joke on him when he tried to explain that a ferret was a real animal, not something made up in Lord of the Rings.

Jack felt another surge of jealousy at that. That Morf was able to be exactly who he was around everyone else without feeling worried about being rejected.

Admittedly, Morf probably would have been the one to talk to about Ennis and Jack’s feelings for him. But there was no way that Jack was going to go through with that.

“Yeah - Alma, I think? He’s been seeing her for a month and a bit now? She’s really nice,” Robert confirmed.

Jack felt his heart drop.

For the two weeks since meeting Alma, Jack had done anything and everything that meant he could avoid seeing her or Ennis again.

///

“Jack, dude, talk to us, yeah?” Jake asked. Edward was stood right behind him, worry clearly written across his face as the two men watched the First Year university student cry on Jake’s doorstep.

“Come inside, Jack. We’ll make you some tea and you can talk to us about it?” Edward suggested. Jack wiped his eyes roughly with his sleeve and nodded.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

“Don’t even worry about it, dude. Go into the living room with Ed and I’ll make us all something to drink, yeah?”

Jack nodded and allowed Edward to lead him gently into Jake’s living room, one hand on his back to push him through.

Jake returned into the room five minutes later with five mugs of tea. Jack had taken off his hat and was running his hands through his hair, visibly stressed and beyond upset.

“I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” he finally said.

“Stop apologising, man. You know my place is basically just a refuge centre at this point,” Jake joked, raising his eyebrows at Edward. “I mean, Ed just comes over here whenever Jamie’s being too loud with a girl.” Jack breathed a shaky sigh.

“Where are the David’s?”

“They’re at astronomy society,” Jake said gently. 

“I - uh - I need to tell you two something,” Jack confessed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Yeah?” Jake probed, leaning towards him a little.

“I - I’ve never told anyone this before,” he said with a wet laugh, sniffing his tears away. Edward placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Take your time, Jack,” Edward said and Jack nodded, taking another deep breath.

“I - uh - I... I like... I... I don’t... like girls,” Jack saw Jake and Edward exchange a look.

“Alright,” Edward said at last. Jack looked at him in surprise.

“Is that... is that it?” Jack asked. Jake chuckled, squeezing Jack’s shoulder.

“You’re still our friend, dude, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re the same guy you’ve always been and... and nothing’s going to change that, especially not your sexuality,” Jack bit his lip, trying hard not to smile.

“You really mean that?”

“Of course we do,” Edward chuckled. He brought Jack into a short hug. “If you need any support though, Jack, you know where we are. We’ll help you however you need us to,” Jack nodded.

“Thanks,” he breathed. “Could you... maybe not tell the others yet?”

“We wouldn’t take that away from you,” Jake promised.

///

“You want my advice?” Morf asked, raising his eyebrows at Jack.

It had been a slow process but by two weeks after coming out for the first time, all of his closest friends knew he was gay.

Apart from Ennis.

Though Jack wasn’t exactly sure where they stood on the whole ‘friend thing’ anymore anyway. 

“Well... you’ve clearly told guys you like them before,” Jack pointed out and Morf chuckled, raising his chai latte to his lips.

“It’s the same as telling girls you like them,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Funnily enough I haven’t done that either,” he pointed out.

“Who’s the guy?” Morf asked curiously. Jack dropped his gaze to the cafe table. “Is it Ennis?” Jack’s head snapped up and he looked around, wide eyed and worried.

“Keep your fucking voice down!” He hissed and Morf lent back with a smirk on his face.

“I knew it - I’ve known it since that night we met Alma,” he declared.

“Great. Congratu-fucking-lations. I’m so proud of you. Have a gold star,” Jack muttered.

“Ennis likes you too,” Morf said and Jack rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence but he has a girlfriend. I’m hopeless but I’m not stupid,” Jack spat.

“Have you seen the way Ennis looks at you?” Morf asked gently. Jack looked up and shook his head, swallowing. “I have. You should talk to him. Or try to.” Silence fell over the friends and Jack mulled over Morf’s advice. “And if that fails then I know some great gay bars that no one else will come with me to.”

///

“Robert’s not in,” Ennis said, opening the door to his dorm room, visibly surprised to see Jack on the other side.

“I know. I was just with him.” Jack nodded. “I need to... I need to talk to you.”

“First time in a while,” Ennis pointed out with a wry smile but stepped back to allow Jack to enter into his room.

The only time Jack had ever seen Ennis without his hat was in his dorm room. He thought that it made him look softer, without the hat. A look Jack couldn’t deny he adored on Ennis.

Jack seated himself on Robert’s bed and Ennis sat on his own, opposite Jack.

Jack’s eyes scanned the room and his heart clenched when they landed on the photo of Alma Ennis had on his desk. He tore his eyes away and settled them back on Ennis, who was watching him expectantly.

“I have to tell you something,” Jack admitted.

“Yeah?”

“I... I’m gay,” coming out had gotten easier for Jack the more he had done it. And yet with the way his throat constricted with the words it felt like the first time all over again.

It was even worse waiting for Ennis’ reaction than it had been waiting for Jake and Edward’s.

He knew Ennis came from a town even more conservative than his own.

“Oh... right.” Ennis swallowed, avoiding making eye contact with Jack. “That’s... that’s fine.” 

Ennis looked like he was in physical pain as he spoke.

“That’s not all,” Jack admitted with a sigh. Ennis’ eyes widened, panic clear in them.

“That’s not it?”

“No... I’m sorry, Ennis,” Jack whispered. Hot tears built in his eyes.

He couldn’t do this.

But he had to.

“I just... I wanted to let you know that... that if I’ve been acting weird lately around you... around Alma.... it’s... I like you Ennis Del Mar.” 

“I’m not gay,” Ennis immediately snapped.

“I know... I just... had to tell you,” Jack’s voice was hoarse and he stood up. “I’ll... I’ll leave,” he decided, seeing Ennis’ stricken face.

Jack was down the hallway towards the stairs, tears threatening to fall when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Jack! Jack wait!” Jack turned at the sound of Ennis’ voice.

He wasn’t given time to respond before it happened.

Ennis’ lips felt better than he had ever imagined.

#courts writings #Jake College Multiverse #Jake Gyllenhaal Cinematic Universe #JGCU #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jack twist #jack twist fanfiction #jack twist imagine #jack twist x ennis del mar #ennis del mar #edward sheffield #robert graysmith #morf vandewalt

[sexyapostates-blog]

Why We Hate Gatherings

More like, why gatherings make me want to stab myself till my intestines escape my body and I eat them to put them back in? Whether it’s a large family reunion or a formal event your mother forced you to go to so she can parade you as wife material, gatherings can be draining. We hate so many things about the, that we had to divide them into categories.

Looks:

Spending hours getting dressed, wasting your time doing your hair and makeup for the sake of pleasing a bunch of women you haven’t seen since you were 5. If it’s a bigger event, you also have to buy expensive jewelry and hire hair stylists and makeup artists.

Hearing the ladies at the gathering bash other women for getting work done, even though they get work done themselves.

The physical pain that comes with wearing uncomfortable dresses, heavy earrings and tight heels.

The search for the perfect outfit takes up the entire night leading up to the event.

Forcing yourself to smile till your face hurts

Having people scan your outfit with laser-like precision, analyzing every aspect of it: what brand is it? How much did it cost? Have they seen you wear it before? Is it covering too much or not enough?

People judging your body (how fat or thin you are, how thick or thin your eyebrows are, the ratio of your boobs to your waist to your hips, the length of your neck etc.)

Formalities:

Having to greet people by kissing and touching them. You can’t opt out because relatives get offended if you don’t greet them. If you have OCD like Salem, then you might spend the whole night washing your face with hand soap, because that’s the only option available to you, so then you have to feel your hands and face going dry and you can’t do anything about it.

Kissing up to everyone for the sake of being polite, regardless of how shitty they might be as a person, because you can’t risk them dissing you to your parents. If you’re lucky, they might even talk you up!

The shady alliances: when who you choose to sit next to is a statement that can make or break your family’s structure.

The same list of topic is always on rotation at every gathering/wedding, and none of those topics appeal to you.

When everyone wants to take pictures of food to post on social media as a way of complimenting the host and flaunt their family’s riches, but they force everyone to move out their shot because women aren’t supposed to be seen in our culture.

Exchanging pre-prescribed pleasantries. In English, this is simply limited to saying “thank you” and “you’re welcome”. However, in Brown culture, we have an Allah-enhanced version of that for every occasion possible, and it’s hard to remember what the right response is.

Having to sit in a proper, lady-like way, despite how uncomfortable holding that positions for hours is

Being forced to eat... and then being shamed for eating

Realizing that the women in the room look at you as a potential wife for their sons

People being nice to your face even though you know they trash talk you behind your back

Knowing that gatherings are pointless and are only there to hold up traditions a.k.a the “pillars of muslim society”

Pretending that you have the perfect life and the perfect family

“Fuck you” isn’t an acceptable response

Disguise:

If you’re an ex-Muslim in disguise, you’ll have to fake pray if you hear the athan

Having to be strategic about what you say so that you don’t expose your infidel ways

Hiding the “real” you in favor of a more conservative, family-approved version of you in order to stay safe

Nodding along to outdated ideas so you don’t get killed

Conversation:

Gossiping/body shaming/shallow conversation

Unnecessary religious talk

Getting unsolicited advice

People bragging about the most obscure things, like their collection of Birkins. Weird flex but ok sis.

Being interrogated about every aspect of your life. They pry into every detail of your life because they feel entitled to an answer.

When someone tells a story that you’ve heard before, but you notice that some of the details have changed since the last time you heard it.

Dealing with crazy old ladies— every family has one.

Having to hear about divorces, marriages, and the 2nd/3rd/4th wife— which of course, comes with showing pity for the 1st wife, and calling the new wife a whore. But don’t forget, the husband is an infallible angel!

Having to hear about people’s weird trips to Neverland.

If you’re a girl and over the age of 14, be prepared to hear “Why aren’t you married yet?”.

Even though you wanna go to bed as soon as you get home, your family will drag you to the second round of gossip, where they discuss everyone they interacted with at the gathering

Environment:

Having your weekend wasted

Not being able to poop because the last thing you want is to be gone for so long and having people ask about your whereabouts. Instead, you have to trap that stool inside your butthole and squeeze your buttcheeks until the gathering is over which then means it’s poop fiesta time.

Even though Muslims don’t drink alcohol, you’ll still wake up with a toxicity-induced hangover the next day.

People trying to look at your phone over your shoulder

They’re SO LOUD

KIDS RUNNING AROUND EVERYWHERE EVERYWHERE EVERY FUCKING WHERE

AND THE PERFUME. OH MY GOD THE PERFUME WHY IS IT SO STRONG MY FUCKING NOSE. it BURNS my EYES!

Other:

The process of taking off your face (and we mean both your makeup and fake identity) and clothes when you get home

Unnecessary drama starts if you decide to skip one

Realizing how messed up everyone in your family is

If you’re the hosts, your family will expect you to help clean up. Ignoring it is not an option unless you want them to hold it against you forever. Depends on your situation, I don’t really care and I never help either I just go to bed and open up Netflix as soon as I can.

Realizing you’d rather be at home, in bed, watching Netflix with your cat, with a bowl of popcorn

THE UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF FOOD WASTE. Like why? WHY? WHY DO YOU NEED TO PREPARE THAT MUCH FOOD. wHy? It’s a small gathering, why do we need a feast big enough for a medium-sized village?!

Good luck,

Salem and Luna

image sources (1, 2, 3, 4) 

#gatherings #rant #Ex Muslim #Ex-Muslim