Tumgik
#.. ruins my life they’re like oh that’s nothing that’s normal that’s funny or you’re lying
Text
Ppl either overreact or completely brush off the fact that i hear voices like there’s rarely an in between. It’s either “that’s called having thoughts” or “you are a danger to yourself and others.” Like for me it’s clearly abnormal but I’m also not pressed about it bc it doesn’t scare or harm me (they only say funny things or complete nonsense)
1 note · View note
mosswillow · 3 years
Text
Focus - Dark!Bucky Barnes x ADHD!Reader
Warnings! Dark! 18+ content, vaginal fingering, noncon/dubcon, smut, kidnapping, oral (female receiving)
Summary: You never should have taken the job cleaning for Stark industries. The Avengers might be heroes on the outside but something sinister lies just beneath the surface.
A/N: this is part of the Synonyms series. You can read any of them as stand alones but I encourage reading them in order if you want to read all of them. This one specifically ties them all together (but you can still read it alone and it should make sense)
This is one of those where it doesn’t feel done but I’m done writing it. I think I just hyped it up in my head too much so after actually writing it I’m like, eh it’s not as good as I thought it would be.
Word count: 3.4k
If you could just focus, everything in your life would be better.
Your inattention follows you around like a shadow. It stands behind you, silently ruining your life while you try in vain to just focus. Just don’t forget. Just stop losing things. Just pay attention. Teachers in school would tell you to stop daydreaming, that if you just listened you could do so much better. Growing up, Your parents treated you like you would never amount to anything. They would push your siblings to do well in school but when it came to you they were silent, unwilling to spend energy on a kid who couldn’t even make it through a family dinner without getting distracted. Everyone around you would laugh at your “quirky” personality. You know that for other people you’re funny, always getting yourself into trouble and making silly mistakes. You don’t think it’s funny though and you never did.  As a kid you would frequently cry yourself to sleep. You found ways to hide your stupidity so that just maybe others might overlook your shadow. You’ve tried so hard to act normal, to make check lists and routines but it never works and you always find yourself once again brought to tears after your inevitable failure.
This is why you took the job at Stark Tower all those years ago. You knew you wouldn’t excel at school  and so you took the first job you could find, cleaning for Stark Industries. It’s something you’re actually good at and the only routine in your life you’ve been able to consistently follow. It makes you move around constantly and there’s always some different puzzle to solve. You love the feeling of finally getting out a tough stain from the carpet or finding the perfect tool to finally get to a hard to reach spot.
Now, after years of hard work and an extensive background check you’ve been promoted to cleaning the Avengers floor. You have a generous salary now, health insurance, your own place with no roommates. Some people may judge what you do but you don’t care anymore. It’s honest work and you love it.
---
You walk into stark tower, showing security your badge before heading to the elevator and riding it up to the Avengers floor. You’ve had this job for a few weeks now but you still feel nervous every day. If you’re honest you’re scared of them, the Avengers, They feel unhinged. It’s nothing they do or say. It’s the general vibe you get when you’re around them, like they’re filled to the brim with unbridled anger that hides underneath a cracking exterior. Any moment they might break completely and whatever trauma they’ve all been through will spill out and consume anyone who dares stand close to them.
You start your day in one of the many bathrooms, scrubbing every surface before taking your cleaning supplies and working your way through the floor. Every day is much of the same, you spend all day cleaning the massive Avengers living area, trying your best to stay out of their lives.
You turn a corner and see Captain America with someone, a new recruit you’ve seen around but haven't met. He has her against the wall, pushing his finger into her pussy. You stand stunned for a second.
“If I don’t take action now I might lose you and I can’t lose you.” Captain America says.
You turn and jump back behind the corner, sliding your back down the wall. You can make out some of their conversation and it sounds dramatic. She’s crying and begging him to walk away. You close your eyes and tell yourself to stay out of it. It’s not your place and if you tried to step in you could lose your job.  
You hear footsteps walking towards you. Captain America stops and flashes a smile while you stand up.
“We appreciate privacy here, you understand the consequences if you tell anyone about anything about our personal lives?”
You do know, they had you sign an agreement that said they’d take everything away from you if you talked about their personal lives in any way to anyone. If you value your livelihood you won’t speak a word about it to anyone.
“I’m sorry sir, I saw you there and didn’t want to interrupt. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, Is… is she ok?”
He crosses his arms and looks you up and down.
“Everything is consensual if that’s what you’re asking, we enjoy a little roleplay sometimes.”
you‘re not totally convinced, something inside you tells you that he’s lying to you. He looks at you so intently and you know, despite his hero status, that he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of you permanently if he had to. you nod your head and give a smile.
“I’m sorry if I insinuated anything sir.”
He checks his watch before quickly walking away. You exhale and pick up your cleaning supplies. As you walk past her room you stop for a second, deciding if you should knock. You back away, not wanting to interfere more than you already have.
“You’re new here.” a voice says as you reach the living room.
“Yes, I just started a few weeks ago.” you reply.
“I’m Bucky.” he walks over to you, looking you up and down.
“I have a lot of work to finish.” you back up a few steps and hold your cleaning tote in front of you. Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles.
“I won’t keep you.”
---
Six months later
---
You walk into Tony’s suite and lean down to plug in your vacuum. A pop of red catches your eye and you pull a thong out from under the nightstand. You turn it over in your hands, deciding what to do with it. A hand comes behind you and takes it from you. You look up to see Tony Stark in front of you, stuffing the thong in his pocket.
“Mr. stark.” you gasp.
“From a one night stand.”
“Of course sir, do you want me to wash and return it to your... friend?”
“No.” Tony says quickly. “That will be all in here today.”
“I haven't vacuumed yet, do you want me to come back later?”
“No, just leave.”
You unplug the vacuum and roll it out the door, turning just briefly to close it behind you. As the door closes you see Tony pull the underwear out of his pocket and bring it to his nose.
You try your best over the next week to keep your mind focused on work. Everything starts to get back to normal.
One evening you hear a thud and someone yell out in pain. You run over to see Tony in the hallway standing threateningly over a woman.
“Is everything ok? You ask.
“We’re fine, you can leave for the night.” Tony says, waving you away. You make eye contact with the woman, looking back and forth between her and Tony. She nods and gives you a small, unconvincing smile. You turn around and walk away, wanting nothing more than to get home and take a long shower. Maybe you can forget about what you just saw.
On your way out you run straight into a wall of muscle.
“Hey, what’s the rush sweetheart.” Bucky catches you, holding onto your shoulders.
“I, uh, I’m sorry sir. Nothing, I’m just anxious to get home I guess.”
“Call me Bucky.”
“Bucky.” you say, moving away from him and towards the door.
“Hey, are you ok?” He takes a step towards you, cocking his head and furrowing his brow.
“Yes sir… Bucky.”
“Hey, you can tell me.”
“No, I can’t.” you look into his eyes, silently communicating the reason for your silence.
Bucky runs his hand through his hair and looks down.
“Your socks match.” he looks up and smiles.
“I’m sorry?” you look at your feet.
“You usually wear mismatched ones, it’s cute.”
You know he meant it to be a fun observation, maybe even a weird complement, but it feels pointed. You always lose your socks, it’s just one of the many small things that you should be able to do better but just can’t. You can’t even keep your life together enough to consistently find matching socks. You give a fake smile, used to laughing at yourself when these things are pointed out.
“Oh, yeah.” you laugh.
Bucky takes an almost imperceptible step towards you and you in turn take a very obvious one backwards.
“I’ll see you tomorrow sir.” you say.
“Bucky.”
“Bucky.” you give a tight smile before walking away.
---
Two weeks later
---
Natasha hands you a book.
“Can you wrap this please?”
“Yes ma'am, whose name should I put?”
“Say to my little bookworm, Love Nat.”
You wrap the present lovingly, putting extra care into it. You’ve seen them together, Nat and her girlfriend. Tony and Steve’s wives mostly keep to themselves but Natashas girlfriend is always nice to you, acknowledging you and thanking you when she sees you working. She owns a bookstore that you’ve visited a few times and always remembers you when you walk in.
“I think you forgot a piece of tape.” Bucky whispers in your ear making you jump. He’s started doing this, becoming more comfortable around you, touching you in small ways and getting just a little closer than what’s appropriate. You grab another piece of tape and secure a bit of paper.
“Thank you.” you say as you tie a bow around the gift and write the note. You pause with your pencil trying to remember what Natasha told you to write. You should have written it down when she told you it. You curse under your breath, wishing you had paid better attention when you were given instructions. You remember it was something easy but not exactly what she wanted.
“I have to get this back to Ms. Romanoff.” you push past Bucky.
“Did I do something to make you upset?”
You stop and look at him.
“No sir”
“Bucky”
“I just prefer to remain professional while at work,” you look down.
“What about outside of work?”
“I would rather keep that life separate. I’m sorry, I just really like this job and don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize it.”
Bucky clenches his jaw and you half expect him to grab you and push you against the wall like you’ve seen the captain and Tony do to their girlfriends and then wives. You flinch when he takes a step towards you. He reaches out, brushing the back of his hand over your cheek.
“I’m not like the others,” he whispers.
You’re not sure what to say, you just nod and watch as he steps back and walks away.
---
One month later
---
You’re doing dishes, scrubbing hard against burnt on food that was never soaked or even rinsed. One of them had a date the night before, making a complicated meal.
“How long until you get your girl?” Thor says to Sam as they walk into the kitchen.
“Tony’s working on it, probably a few weeks before I can take her home.”
They each grab oranges and head into the next room. their voices get quieter for a few minutes then louder again as they walk back to throw away their orange peels.
“I’m envious, I often fantasize about finding mine, If only I knew where she was.” Thor says.
“You have no idea where she could be?”
“I must confess, friend, I don’t even know what planet she’s on. She’s a slippery little lady.”
You stop washing dishes for a second, mind trying to dissect what you’re overhearing.
“You ok?” Bucky sets a plate next to the sink.
“Yes sir.” you reply, taking the plate and washing it.
You turn off the sink and turn around, seeing multiple dishes you forgot about. You pick them up and bring them to the sink, restarting the cleaning process.
“I think you should take a vacation.”
You look at him and raise your eyebrows.
“You’re a hard worker, and fast too.”
You nod in agreement.
“You’re… unusual to watch though.”
You set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turn your back to Bucky, taking a step away. You put your hand in your pocket to pull out your phone which holds your to do list but it’s not there. You look to your right and left and then turn back toward Bucky. He holds your phone out to you and you grab it and open your list.
“This is the third time today you’ve misplaced your phone.”
“I appreciate your concern, you’re very observant.” you bite your tongue before you say something aggressively inappropriate to your boss.
“Hey, I don’t want to hurt your feelings. You’re very smart and capable, I just noticed it’s been worse lately and think you should take a break.”
You take a deep breath.
“I’m taking next week off.” you say, grabbing a broom and walking out of the kitchen.
“Good.” Bucky yells after you.
---
Three months later.
---
Your phone rings, waking you up from a deep sleep.
“Hello,” you say sleepily.
“Hey, can you come in ASAP?” Tony says from the other end.
You jump out of bed.
“Of course, I’ll be there soon.”
You quickly get dressed and run out of the apartment. You gasp and drop your bag as soon as the elevator door opens. There’s a huge mess covering the entire living room and kitchen. There’s broken glass and furniture everywhere as well as a hole in the wall. It looks as though there was a fight and you wonder what happened. You get to work right away.
Thankfully a few of the Avengers wives come and help you clean up. Natashas wife evidently is back from a long honeymoon and you’re happy to see her. You smile at her and she frowns back at you.
“Are you ok?”
She looks away. “Just tired.”
You watch her give a tiny flinch as Natasha calls her name from the next room. Something is very wrong.
“You got this cleaned up fast.” Bucky says, taking a dustpan away from you and dumping the contents into the trash.
“I had help.” you say, looking over to where Natasha and her wife stand across the room.
You look back at Bucky and give a sweet smile.
“I was wondering if I could leave a little early on friday. There’s a birthday party for my grandmother.”
“I think you’ve earned leaving a little early after today, you’re welcome to get ready for your party here too. You can use the guest room.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Bucky.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
“Thank you Bucky.”
---
You put on your dress and a full face of makeup, admiring yourself in the mirror before heading out. Bucky stands outside of the guest room door, obviously waiting for you.
“You clean up nice.”
“Thank you.”
Bucky clicks his tongue as he stares at you.
“Did I ever tell you that you remind me of someone I used to know?”
You back away.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I miss her.”
You try your best to take even breaths. The way he looks at you makes you deeply uncomfortable. You feel naked despite your dress being on the conservative side. You make the mistake of looking straight at his crotch, seeing a very visible bulge. You gulp and shift uncomfortably on your feet.
“Have a good time at your party.” Bucky says.
“I will.” you say politely before basically running to the elevator. You get in and realize you forgot your phone. You walk back to the guest room where Bucky waits, holding your phone out for you. You grab it and turn around but bucky catches your arm.
“Focus, do you have everything you need.”
You shift your eyes away and realize you forgot your wallet and keys too.
Bucky grabs your things out of his pocket and hands them to you.  
“Thank you.” you breathe.
Bucky hums and lets you go.
“Be safe,” he yells as you walk back to the elevator, this time taking it down and leaving the tower.
---
Three months later
---
You’re going to quit today. As good as the money is it’s not worth the fear and stress of working there. Not only have you become more and more concerned about the wives of the Avengers but you just can’t take Bucky anymore. You’re scared of him. The way he looks at you makes you feel as though he could decide at any minute to lock you in a room and tear your clothes off. You feel constant stress at work and have developed a tremor. No amount of money is worth this work environment. The lease at your apartment is about to end and you’ll move back with your parents until you find a new job.
You enter the avengers floor and hear yelling.
“Fuck!”
“I thought we were kidnapping women?”
“You weren’t supposed to just snatch one. Now there’s a whole mess to clean up.”
“Thor just took his.”
“He has a point.”
“Thor had that whole betrothal thing.”
“Touche.”
You make eye contact with a scared woman who is sitting on the couch with her hands tied in front of her. She mouths run and you do, running out of the tower and home. You start frantically packing a bag, throwing your phone away since you’re sure they can track it.
“There’s nowhere to hide baby.”
You scream as Bucky pulls you away from your suitcase and throws you on your bed.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” he touches your face, smoothing his finger over your lip.
“We’re married now, Tony already set it up. I’m going to take you on a honeymoon on an island until I can trust you.”
It clicks in your head, the honeymoons. They always come back so quiet and introverted.
“What did they do to those poor girls?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Tears start forming in your eyes.
“I won’t tell anyone, just let me go.”
“This is the only way.”
Bucky’s hand travels down your body, grabbing your waistband and pulling your pants off. He puts his hand in between your legs and you squirm away, clenching your legs tight.
“Please baby, I don't want to hurt you but I will if i have to. Now open up”
You shake your head, tears now spilling down your cheeks. He slaps you hard and you clutch your throbbing face, crying out and pushing your body against the headboard. You slowly and shakilly open your legs for him, closing your eyes as he dips a metal finger in your pussy.
“I’m not like the others.”
He thrusts his finger in and out.
“They took those women out of greed. They feel like they deserve love after everything they’ve given up... we’ve given up.”
He reaches his other hand up, still fucking you gently with a metal finger, and grabs your chin, shaking your head gently until you look at him.
“I just want you to be safe and happy.”
Bucky pulls his finger out. He grabs his cock, stroking it as he looks at your naked lower half. You try to close your legs but he grabs them, pulling them open. He kisses your mound gently and you arch your back involuntarily, pushing your pussy into his face. He grabs your legs and holds you against his mouth, suddenly sucking and licking until you’re coming undone. The pleasure washes over you and you relax for a second before your mind is brought back to reality. Your legs shake as He pulls back and smiles at you, climbing over you and pushing his impressive dick in. He kisses you as he thrusts into you, grabbing your shoulders and squeezing them as he comes.
“I’m going to be good for you, this will be good.” he whispers, holding you as you cry in his arms.
---
You’re forgetful. You don’t focus, don’t pay attention. It was right in front of your face and you still missed it. You always miss it. You’ve always been someone who gets themselves into trouble, always making silly mistakes and having to pay for them.
Your shadow did it again, silently destroyed everything around you while you ignorantly looked the wrong way. If you could just pay attention.
If you could just focus.
But you can’t.
453 notes · View notes
edenmemes · 4 years
Text
uncharted sentence starters
❝ if you’re done lying to me, then you should stop lying to yourself. ❞ ❝ it’s not going to be easy, you know. ❞ ❝ well, it sounds like you’re working for a nutcase. ❞ ❝ make sure that you’re safe. ❞ ❝ look, i wanted to tell you! i wanted to! but how could i? ❞ ❝ see? i’m not just a pretty face. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry for what happened to you. ❞ ❝ i think i have a bit more experience with this thing than you do. ❞ ❝ wait, wait, wait. something about this feels kinda hinky. ❞ ❝ what a warm and homey place, huh? ❞ ❝ i’m willing to forgive and forget. for old time’s sake. ❞ ❝ looks like he was killed. ripped to shreds actually. ❞ ❝ these guys have been tailing me for weeks. thought i lost them. ❞ ❝ should i be flattered, or worried? ❞ ❝ so with our luck, what’s the odds this volcano is going to erupt on us? ❞ ❝ i hope i don’t go to hell for this. ❞ ❝ i can handle this. i’m tough. i grew up with nuns. ❞ ❝ fair warning, last person who betrayed me wound up dead. ❞ ❝ you told me you’d say out of trouble. ❞ ❝ how do i know you’re real? ❞ ❝ don’t ever point a gun at me again. ❞ ❝ make sure that you’re safe. ❞ ❝ i have made a lot of mistakes. a lot. i’m not a perfect man. ❞ ❝ i had a lousy father. lousy childhood. ❞ ❝ sounds terrible. check his wallet. ❞ ❝ let's not forget who walked out on whom. you don't get to be jealous.  ❞ ❝ progress demands sacrafice. ❞ ❝ shut up. i really thought you were gone this time. ❞ ❝ i can’t leave you alone for one minute, can i? ❞ ❝ on a scale of 1-10, how scared were you that i was gonna die? ❞ ❝ i can’t walk away. i’m tired of walking away. ❞ ❝ even an enemy must be fed and sheltered. are you my enemy? ❞ ❝ we can still stop him. i can help you. ❞ ❝ gotta say, you have a real knack for breaking things. ❞ ❝ do as i say not as i do. ❞ ❝ looks like hell spit you back out. ❞ ❝ what’s your story, anyway? ❞ ❝ i don’t take big risks without a good payday. ❞ ❝ i guess it runs in the family, huh? ❞ ❝ you can’t reform the villain and save the day. it’s just not done like that. ❞ ❝ sorry, i just need to get my head back in the game. ❞ ❝ this isn’t our fight. it’s my fight. ❞ ❝ i won’t let them hurt you. ❞ ❝ skip the mind games. you don’t know me. ❞ ❝ no offense, but your ancestor was a right asshole. ❞ ❝ you’re unusually quiet. what’s up your bum? ❞ ❝ that was my last cigarette. ❞ ❝ okay, well, why don’t you just walk away? ❞ ❝ why this obsession? i’m just worried. ❞ ❝ i can’t...i can’t breathe...i just...can’t breathe... ❞ ❝ don’t touch me. get away from me. ❞ ❝ if you let these bastards win - after this - i will never forgive you. ❞ ❝ you’ve got your pride all tangled up in this thing. it’s making you reckless. ❞ ❝ any trouble you shoot first and ask questions later. ❞ ❝ dangerous to be out so late.  ❞ ❝ easy now. look at me. ❞ ❝ my leg! don’t touch it! i know it’s broken! ❞ ❝ are you going to join me, darling? ❞ ❝ this is my gig. you want your share, you play by my rules. ❞ ❝ we don’t get to choose how we start in life. real greatness? it’s what you do with the hand you’re dealt. ❞ ❝ i always felt that we were destined for something great. ❞ ❝ you should relax. you’ll live longer. ❞ ❝ i taught you better than that. ❞ ❝ so that’s a no? felt like a no. ❞ ❝ quit acting like you’re gonna lie down and die, all right? ❞ ❝ i have a spare bed.  ❞ ❝ is there no bottom for your ignorance? ❞ ❝ even cornered dogs bite back.  ❞ ❝ that one is my favourite. it makes your eyes twinkle.  ❞ ❝ admit it. you’re gonna miss this ass.  ❞ ❝ you think i’m a monster, but you’re no different from me.  ❞ ❝ how many people have you killed? how many?  ❞ ❝ you will not stand in the way of destiny.  ❞ ❝ you stick with me, i’ll teach you a few things. ❞ ❝ well, if you’d like, i can tell you where to stick it. ❞ ❝ face it, genius, you’ve been played. ❞ ❝ yeah, keep smiling, asshole. ❞ ❝ i got nothing to prove. ❞ ❝ don’t hand it to me. i’ve had everything handed to me ❞ ❝ you don’t know when to give up, do you? ❞ ❝ you stick your neck out, you’re asking to lose your head. ❞ ❝ oh, and now you’re blushing. ❞ ❝ just so you know, it’s not my first lost city. ❞ ❝ are you always this clever? ❞ ❝ i was trying to rescue you, as a matter of fact. ❞ ❝ you know, at this point, i’ve run out of words. ❞ ❝ what do you say we really ruin this guy’s day? ❞ ❝ whether you die or not, i don’t really care. ❞ ❝ i thought you...i saw you get shot. ❞ ❝ it’s like a camera. you just...point and shoot, right? ❞ ❝ god, who’s being unprofessional now? ❞ ❝ i always knew you were gonna make something of yourself one day. ❞ ❝ let’s just pretend i skipped all of sunday school. ❞ ❝ oh no you didn’t do that. that’s not funny! ❞ ❝ save the world, triumph over evil. ❞ ❝ are you trying to kill me? ❞ ❝ know what i love about partying with a bunch of crooks? nobody cares that you smoke indoors. ❞ ❝ you gave me a goddamn heartattack. ❞ ❝ i’ll die a thousand deaths before i let you win.  ❞ ❝ i didn’t tell you because i was afraid...of losing you. ❞ ❝ what ever happened to just living a normal life? ❞ ❝ even if you think you’re protecting me, you don’t have a right to shut me out like that. ❞ ❝ i mean... thanks for saving me. ❞ ❝ en garde, dickhead. ❞ ❝ i love you. ❞ ❝ come on! we can get out of here together. ❞ ❝ everything i touch turns to shit. ❞ ❝ how did you find me anyway? ❞ ❝ i’ve got my eye on you. ❞ ❝ you were going to sell me out, weren’t you? ❞ ❝ love to know what you’re thinking. ❞ ❝ well, well, well. get it? ‘cause you know, it’s a well. ❞ ❝ it’s a shame we’re leaving empty handed though. ❞ ❝ okay...yeah...how do i look? ❞ ❝ thank me after we get out of this alive. ❞ ❝ you’re lucky that i found you when i did. ❞ ❝ they’re just saying that because it gets to you. ❞ ❝ look, if you’re into shady stuff it’s totally cool. ❞ ❝ ha. that’s my girl. ❞ ❝ i made a promise that i was done with this life. ❞ ❝ listen, sunshine, the world doesn’t care. ❞ ❝ well, that’s it. now you know everything. ❞ ❝ don’t even think about not coming back. ❞ ❝ you know, i shot the man who told me that. ❞ ❝ i thought that i’d be satisfied. instead, i’m left with this strange feeling of emptiness.  ❞  ❝ as thrilling as the next adventure may be, in the end, you’re always left with that same feeling. ❞ ❝ you know, i didn’t think i could trust you either. ❞ ❝ i almost lost you once before. i just can’t do that again. ❞ ❝ don’t even think about not coming back. ❞ ❝ that’s it! no compassion! no mercy! ❞ ❝ sentimentality in this line of work will get you killed. ❞ ❝ i need your help...and you need mine. ❞ ❝ i kept your tears in a jar. ❞ ❝ i expected you to have my back.  ❞ ❝ tell you what. when i get back, pizza’s on me. ❞ ❝ death. it smelled like death. ❞ ❝ so they have beaten you, eh? your quest’s over?  ❞ ❝ you listen to your mum, okay?  ❞ ❝ trust me - your ego will mend.  ❞ ❝ i hope i live to regret this.  ❞ ❝ these men were all shot.  ❞ ❝ be a lot easier just to let go.  ❞ ❝ what? no witty remark? nothing clever to say?  ❞ ❝ seems like i am always saving your ass. ❞ ❝ i never asked for any of your bloody heroics. ❞ ❝ the guys in prison used to say, ‘you can steal to eat or you can steal to get rich.’ i say, why not both?  ❞ ❝ you were never a chocolate and flower kinda girl.  ❞ ❝ i don’t have your luck. people like me know when to walk away from the table.  ❞ ❝ appreciate the update, captain obvious.  ❞ ❝ you made your choice.  ❞ ❝ don’t tell me you’re buying all into that supernatural nonsense.  ❞ ❝ i couldn’t sleep last time i saw that.  ❞ ❝ it’s actually nice working with a woman for a change. ❞ ❝ i’m lucky you’re on my side. ❞ ❝ do you really think all this really could be true?  ❞ ❝ you know, it’s kind of romantic down here.  ❞ ❝ just wish i’d brought something to read.  ❞ ❝ you can relax. we’re safe here. ❞ ❝ i am surrounded by traitors and fools.  ❞ ❝ just don’t get us killed. ❞ ❝ what are you shaking for? ❞ ❝ parents must be worried about you. ❞ ❝ i wonder what you’re really scared of...not bullets, or blood, or broken bones... ❞ ❝ i don’t need your bullet-ridden-corpse on my conscience. let’s go. ❞ ❝ yeah, i’m fine. oh, but - you’re bleeding. ❞ ❝ i do seem to attract the scum of the earth. ah - no offense. ❞ ❝ all this grandeur, hidden away from the world.  ❞ ❝ if we don’t make it out here, i just want you to know - i hate your guts. ❞ ❝ i’ve got a bad feeling about this place. ❞ ❝ that’s my blood. that’s my blood. that’s a lot of my blood. ❞ ❝ you should play the hero more often. it suits you. ❞ ❝ eyes ahead, don’t look down. ❞ ❝ here - grab my hand. ❞ ❝ no matter what it is, you’re supposed to come to me so we can work it out together… as a team.  ❞  ❝ you know nothing is ever truly destroyed. just purified and reborn.  ❞ ❝ you just - totally crushed that moment. you know that, right?  ❞ ❝ you’re a selfish dickhead.  ❞ ❝ i do speak a little bit of ____, you know. wait, what did you say? ❞ ❝ i know you. you’re no hero.  ❞ ❝ i wish you could’ve been there. ❞ ❝ hey, are you happy? ❞ ❝ you’re not gonna pass out on me or nothing, are you? ❞ ❝ look, i...um....i’m not good with the whole people thing.  ❞ ❝ i’ve had worse nights, believe me.  ❞ ❝ let’s find somewhere a little more private. ❞ ❝ hey, take it easy. you’ve been out for almost half an hour.  ❞ ❝ to rule people, you first must sow chaos.  ❞ ❝ it’s not stealing if it was mine to begin with. ❞ ❝ take me with you. ❞ ❝ i’m left with this strange feeling of emptiness.  ❞  ❝ anyone ever tell you, you have a funny idea of romantic?  ❞  ❝ it’s nothing that years of therapy won’t fix.  ❞ ❝ no. it’s my turn to walk away.  ❞  ❝ nothing about our lives have been fair, but we’ve made it work. ❞ ❝ your people will beg me to save them.  ❞ ❝ we’re not on a first-name basis.  ❞ ❝ you know nothing about me.  ❞ ❝ do tell. maybe over some drinks?  ❞ ❝ we must keep to the shadows.  ❞ ❝ hey, you cool? ‘cause i need you to be cool.  ❞ ❝ you must be tired of these lectures. i know i’m tired of giving them. ❞ ❝ here, take this. you’ll catch a cold. ❞ ❝ is that a sin? i think that’s a sin. ❞
2K notes · View notes
Text
Pro Heros Find You Crying
Warnings: tw for body image, mentions of death of pets
Tumblr media
Yagi Toshinori/All Might
You were home, alone, when you found out. It wasn’t a particularly big issue, and it wasn’t something that someone else would necessarily care about, but to you, this was the final straw. 
An actor from your childhood, someone who you watched constantly as a child, someone who, albeit from a screen, saw you grow up, passed away. You never got to even meet him in person. The closest you’ve ever gotten was him noticing your comment on a livestream of 12 other people, and smiling.
You never got to thank him. For everything he’d done for you. 
Tears fell from your eyes uncontrollably, dripping from your eyelashes and dropping onto the floor, your clothes, the keyboard. 
Soon, though, you felt dreaded sobs making their way from your core all the way through your vocal cords. They shook your body like an earthquake. Sobs don’t care what they break inside you. They just need to get out.
What no one else would understand about this, though, was that your tears weren’t just being spilled for the actor you never got to thank. No, these represent so much more.
Your childhood is officially gone.
Just as that actor will be grieved, buried, and will rot in the ground with dusty fake flowers above his grave, your childhood will be filled with maggots and worms.
The thing about childhoods, though, is that they still live inside you, even when they’re over.
You always found this fact a cruel one. Even now, you could feel the worms burrowing into your childhood, eating away and destroying all the memories you’ve tried so hard to keep in tact for all these years. 
You sobbed for him, yes. But you were still grieving your loss as well.
Cold, bony fingers met your shoulder. You jumped, yelping at the sudden touch.
“What?! What do you want?!” you screamed. You aren’t usually this ornery, but the embarrasment of being this upset over something so menial, plus the shock of someone else being home with you, caused you to snap.
"What happened?" He gently asked. He met your seemingly angry tone with nothing but pure kindness and sympathy.
"I-I'm so sorry, Toshi...I didn't mean-"
"I know, pumpkin. I know."
He took you in his arms, pulling you towards him.
In between sobs, you explained what happened.
"oh...I see... That does sound like a lot for you to be dealing with."
He stroked your tear stained cheek.
“But...I hope you know that just because you’re older, it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to be a kid sometimes. You can still get excited over stuff, and cry over things that seem silly, and have wonder about new things. As long as you keep a piece of your childhood with you, you never have to say goodbye.”
Once you calmed down, he took you out for ice cream: something you haven’t done since you were barely 10 years old. 
Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead
You quickly clicked your heels into the staff restroom, closing the door behind you and shakily letting out a sigh of relief. You knew you didn’t have much time left before the tears started coming once you got that text, so you decided it’d be best for you to go ahead and have another teacher deal with your class for a few minutes while you let yourself deal with this, alone.
You re-read the text one more time. Maybe it wasn’t what you thought it was.
Y/n... I’m so sorry, but your dog was put to sleep today. 
You shook your head. No, maybe she meant to say that he was taking a nap. Maybe he was still waiting for you, at home, in his little bed...
A sob escaped before you had the chance to control it as you pictured his little black and white face peacefully sleeping on his doggie bed. 
You had that dog for years. He’d been there for you when no one else had, and though he couldn’t speak, you always knew he silently understood what you needed when you needed it.
Now, he was gone.
You covered your mouth, trying your best to supress the sounds of sorrow escaping your lips. Maybe, you thought, if I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.
But deep down, you know that’s not true. 
The door to the staff bathroom begins to creak open. 
“Hey, someone’s in here!” you croak out, the tears were even audible in your voice.
“Yeah, and now I’m in here too,” the teacher replied, shutting and locking the door behind him. Something you had forgotten to do.
It was Aizawa, the very teacher you had just asked to watch your students ‘for a moment’.
Before you could ask about them, he mentioned, “They’re fine. I put on a movie for em... but you, on the other hand, are certainly not.”
He took his place next to you on the dirty tile floor of the school restroom, against one wall. He handed you a tissue, noting but not mentioning the fact that you were a mess of tears, ruined makeup, and snot. You gladly accepted, blowing your nose.
Neither of you said much for a good five minutes. You forced yourself to calm down, as to not embarrass yourself in front of him, but the tears were still there, festering below the surface.
“So, what’s got you so upset?” 
That little question was all it took for you to break. You tried, unsuccessfully, to say it. The three little words, “My dog died,” but no matter how much you strained, all that came out was a mess of choked up sobs.
You shakily handed him your phone. His eyes darted to the text, and he instantly understood. 
Aizawa was not one for any physical touching, ever. Even though you had been dating him, he still never really enjoyed holding hands, hugging, or anything like that. 
Today, however, was a totally different situation. He turned to you, opening his arms wide, gesturing for you to ‘come here’.
But you didn’t need anything more. 
You did, and he silently cradled you, rubbing your hair. 
Truthfully, he didn’t know exactly what to say. What could you say? 
Once you began to calm down, he stroked your jaw lightly.
“What was his name?”
“...Theo.” you answered plainly. 
“You loved Theo a lot, didn’t you?” 
You nodded.
“You know, what’s so funny about losing a pet is that...it’s incredibly hard,” he sighed, “Even harder than losing humans.”
Aizawa continued, “It’s because we don’t have anything to gain from lying about loving them. We just do. Animals love their owners completely unconditionally, never needing any reassurance that you love them back a hundred times over. That’s not something that many humans have.”
You nodded.
“ I just hope you know that...you did your best for him. He couldn’t have ever asked for a better owner to share his life with. You did good, y/n,” he whispered. You shot him a shaky smile. Really, your heart was aching more now than ever. 
“You don’t have to do all that. I know you’re not doing well, still. Please, go ahead and go home for the day. I can take on your class, no problem,” he assured.
“...can you...come over after work?” you asked. He nodded.
Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum
It’s been almost a year since this pandemic began. You wonder to yourself, how long can that be an excuse for you? 
You had gained weight. A lot of it. You suffer from secret binge eating, indulging yourself greedily in all your favorite comfort foods. Usually, you did this at night, which worked out even better for you, since your boyfriend usually had night watch and was not at home. 
Stretch marks were always a normal sight for you, ever since you hit puberty, but the ones on your stomach have started to move upwards, like vines trying to find the sun. They stared back at you in shades of purples, pinks, and browns. 
You ran your fingers over your now bumpy skin.
Other girls don’t look like this. Other girls are happy with a miniature bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, a granola bar for lunch, and maybe a tiny serving of pasta for dinner. They are the beautiful ones. They must be happy, right?
Your fingers unrelentlessly pinch and pull at your stomach, your thighs, your love handles. All fat.
Each tiny action reminded your body that you hated it. 
Did you even ever love your body? Even when you were ‘skinny’? 
Your eyes met with your face, staring back at you in your mirror. You saw flashes of the girl you once were, tiny memories of a once happy girl.
You couldn’t hold back the wail of grief that racked your whole body. You turned away from the mirror, curling up on your floor. 
That wasn’t any better.
The remanants of last night’s binge surrounded you. Wrappers from your favorite ice cream bar, discarded chip bags, and candy containers scattered your floor.
You suddenly remembered that he’d be home soon, and scrambled to collect all the evidence through your blurry eyes.
Each piece of trash reminded you of your failure, your lack of self control. Your uselessness.
You sobbed harder. 
“Y/n, darling, I’m home!” that peppy, familiar voice announced from the entranceway. You took a deep breath, scooting all the trash under your bed and wiping your face.
You greeted him, a faux smile plastered on your face.
He began to speak, but when he got a good look at you, he paused.
“What happened here, sweetie?” he asked, touching your face. His hand was chilled from the outside air.
“N-nothing. I’m fine,” you lied, forcing the smile a little more.
He squinted his eyes, sitting down at the kitchen table. 
“Go ahead an’ tell me what’s going on with ya,” he offered, patting one knee.
“Baby, it’s nothing. You need to go to bed, I know you’re probably exhausted.”
“The only thing exhausting me right now is you. I’ll go to the bedroom if that’s whatcha want, but I’m not goin to bed until you tell me what’s wrong.” 
Fatgum made his way into the bedroom, quickly slipping into his house clothes before sliding into the bed you both shared.
Before you could join him, he paused, adjusting himself.
He then pulled out a popsicle stick that you neglected to remove from the bed when you made it this morning. At the sight of it, you turned away from him and covered your face.
He was now wholly confused, but ready to deal with whatever it was that was upsetting you. He reached out, pulling you to him. You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t find the strength to anymore.
He rubbed your back in small circles, cooing, “let it out, babydoll...that’s it, good...”
Once you had calmed down quite a bit, he tilted your chin up towards his face, making you make eye contact.
“What have you been hiding from me, love?” he delicately questioned.
You said nothing, but slid out the pile of trash from the night before.
“This...is from last night,” you stated plainly.
You tensed your body, ready for the ridicule, the mocking, the ‘i’m just concerned for your health’ comments. 
You looked up, to see if he could actually see what you’d just shown him. He did. His eyes were dewy yet understanding.
He stood up, placing his arm around you and pulling you towards him.
“I understand,” he whispered into your ear. You clenched your fist.
“No. You can’t understand.” 
You looked up at him, with now angered eyes.
“You’ll never understand, Tai. Never.”
“What do you-”
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY FAT FOREVER! I DO!” you screeched, covering your face. You never yelled at him before, or anyone else for that matter. But this issue you’ve been dealing with was one that no one ever saw from you. It was a raw, bleeding subject, one that you felt as if you’ve just poured a great deal of salt on.
“Darling...” he whispered, pulling you close to him, “What’s wrong with being fat, honey?” 
“Are you kidding?” you spat, “I don’t look good like this, Tai. I don’t fit into my clothes anymore, I-”
“Number one, you most certainly do look good like anything. Number two, I will buy you new clothes.”
You were starting to get frustrated.
“Tai! I’m telling you, I fucking hate myself, okay? I hate my body! And, sometimes, I hate you for pretending to love something that I know you hate, too!”
He pulled you away from him, looking you in the eye. He was serious now.
“Don’t you be puttin words in my mouth. I have never ever, not even once thought about hating you or your body,”
“That’s a lie, Tai! How could you ever love me when I look like this?”
“How could you ever love me when I look like this?” he retorted, gesturing to his fat form. 
You gasped. You didn’t really have an answer.
He knew you wouldn’t, either.
“So, now tell me, y/n... what’s so wrong about being fat?”
You clung to him, apologizing in between sobs.
He hushed you, cooing,” There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, it’s okay. I love you, sweetie.”
You sniffed, “I love you, too.”
160 notes · View notes
wincore · 4 years
Text
youngblood | lee donghyuck
pairing: haechan x reader
words: 9.1k
genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff, angst(?)
warnings: language, juvenile crimes (do NOT try shoplifting, speeding and vandalism, kids)
a/n: okay omg i finally got around to editing this and you guys should know by now this au doesn’t mean he’s bad and just.........annoying........... (also it follows troublemaker’s style but like............it might just be my fav troublemaker part aaaa)
Tumblr media
The first day you meet Lee Donghyuck, he picks a fight with you. Or you pick a fight with him.
That’s not how the first day of high school should have gone.
It surprised you, just a little, to be toe-to-toe with someone so easily. Did he like picking fights for fun? You looked him up and down, the ink over his forearm meant to be shown and a strange friendliness in his eyes. Not exactly the bully type, you weren’t sure what to make of him. Movies spoil reality when it comes to things like this. Rumors are even worse. You took a slow gulp anyway, Donghyuck’s eyes on you unnerving.
He leaned in slightly to match your height. His tone was lilting and he phrased his words light-heartedly, a pretence you found funny. “I have no interest in you, kid. I’m going to keep it that way.”
“We’re the same age, you know?”
Your reply went unheard. It was just misunderstanding that got you there—you mistook his locker for yours and it’s not your fault you happen to have the same passcode (a little weird though, definitely). Lee Donghyuck said if you were allowed to take what’s his, he should have the same privilege, the word thief at the tip of his tongue. He was a little daunting, you suppose—taller than you were, in all black and several piercings and tattoos poking out on wrists. Maybe it was the undulating rage of being fourteen and at the stage of heavy regret in later years, maybe it was the wariness around strangers. You weren’t quite afraid of him; just that a fight on your first day didn’t seem like a very bright start in a new city. Although you assured him you didn’t touch his stuff, you handed him your bear-shaped keychain. (“You can have this if you want a gift so bad.”)
When Donghyuck laughed, giving it back almost immediately with a cheeky grin—you couldn’t decide whether to let the confusion show on your face.
“Don’t be a pushover, newbie.”
You frowned. “Who’re you calling a pushover?”
You don’t remember the rest of it but you found it very hard to not have mixed feelings about him. You’re trying to have a normal fun high school life for fuck’s sake. You didn’t think he was the awful sort of person—but it was almost as if he was trouble’s very own lovechild. There are better weapons against him than falling into pointless playfights.
Lee Donghyuck. Funny guy.
The school bully image was a lie, no doubt spread by someone more than annoyed with his antics. Of course, Lee Donghyuck either didn’t care or didn’t know, wits always about him like some sort of eccentric defence mechanism.
You admire him in a way, but you wouldn’t be caught dead telling him that.
Lee Donghyuck is popular, full of jokes and fun but a little rough on the edges all the same. But you have to assume he must have some demonic heritage. You could say you have a strange relationship—friends but not. You hate him but don’t. While you’re sure there’s at least a little bit of sunshine hidden beneath those black T-shirts and inked skin, there’s a bit more than hidden sides to young troublemakers—things that don’t involve misunderstanding.
Lee Donghyuck looks like danger. (And danger attracts attention of all kinds, you’d noticed in a few unfortunate heart-eyed classmates.) You’ve seen him in enough fights to have respect for him, making you wonder why he doesn’t join the debate team already. It might have something to do with how his victorious smile gets on everyone’s nerves, the way they groan at Donghyuck’s sudden affections afterward. They don’t hate him—mostly. He’s honest and he knows exactly how to press people. That doesn’t change the innocence in his arrogance or the clear distinction of his spirit.
Of course there are bad people; Donghyuck just isn’t one of them. He just tries too hard to look cool. (“Sunflower,” he’d called you, pulling a face. “I know you’re dense. But maybe start being afraid of me so you don’t ruin my reputation.”)
The sunlight falls against the web of your thumb, your fingers rapidly moving to match the pace of the game on your phone. Five minutes to class, you’ve got nothing better to do.
“What, trying to beat my high score again?” Donghyuck pulls the chair beside you to sit, his arms resting on the desk as he continues to stare at you.
“Believe me, Donghyuck, not everything I do is for you,” you chuckle, tapping on the play again button, catching the look on his face out of the corner of your eye.
Donghyuck looks visibly irked and you think maybe your decision to be so annoyingly passive has been the right one if it bothers him. Ah, but you won’t tell him that. You’re having the time of your life this way.
“Well,” Donghyuck begins but frowns instead. “Whatever.”
It’s not every day you get to win—Donghyuck does get under your skin. You just don’t have to show it. Sometimes his own friends decide they’ve had enough, the classroom shenanigans making you laugh. You don’t want to get started on the chaos that unfurls every time Donghyuck walks into class and straight up picks a fight with anyone in his eyesight—even Jaemin has his “Lee Donghyuck!” moments. Donghyuck is friends with everyone and that means he gets to get on everyone’s nerves.
You smile to yourself thinking of Donghyuck yawning deliberately at Renjun trying to make a point. Call him a demon, call him a disgrace; he knows how to make people laugh.
You pass Red’s diner on your way back home, as usual, the unusual red and white checkers replacing the normal concrete sidewalk by it. It’s always soothed you to see bright colours in this side of the city, the beige and coffee aesthetic far too dominating for its cause—something to keep up with the larger, fancier (more pretentious) metropolises.  It’s also the oldest; your friends told you the number of baby pictures everyone has on the wine-coloured couches is, in more appropriate words, fucking astounding.
You wish you’d moved here earlier. The thing about little cities is just that—they’re not all that little. Something everyone seemingly loves to boast about, the romance of a small town and its delicate simplicities. It’s nothing alike. You’d know. You enjoy it more here. You like all the food outlets and stores lining the streets and further up, less congestion and more dog parks—all places you love breezing through in your free time. There’s an amusement park too, a forty-minute drive away into the middle of nowhere and if you’re not mistaken, the city centre has the best clubs and bars. Sunshine drips through every nook and cranny—it’s everything you’d expected a city to be.
You stop in your tracks at the sight of distinct brown curls in the alleyway between buildings. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to be in the best of situations, a tougher, much larger guy shoving him against the wall. They seem to be speaking, and something about Donghyuck’s smile doesn’t give you a good feeling about what’s going to happen.
Before the guy’s fist meets Donghyuck’s cheek, you yell, two pairs of eyes shifting focus to you. You feel your heartbeat quicken, Donghyuck raising his eyebrow and shooting you a confused look.
“Don’t- don’t hurt him,” you say, cursing at the meekness of your voice.
The larger man laughs, a sound like nails on a chalkboard and you cringe. Donghyuck mouths at you to get away but immediately shuts up when the man turns to him again.
“You got a little lover come here to protect you?” he says, looking at Donghyuck with amusement.
“No, that’s not—”
“I hate little brats like you,” he huffs, shoving Donghyuck once more, this time a little harder. He lets out a pained whine, eyes squeezing shut as he drops on his knees.
You take a hesitant step back when the man makes his way to you, blood rushing to your ears when he raises his hand. Your arms go up by instinct and you’re met with a hard push, falling to the ground with a whimper.
You’re picked up by the collar, struggling to not let fear show on your face.
“Tell your boyfriend to stop messing around my store, okay, sweetheart?” he threatens, voice lower.
With that, he drops you and leaves, the adrenaline in you not quite down yet.
“Donghyuck?” you call, worried as you spot him lying still in the alleyway. You’re about to get up and go to him when he responds, whimsical as ever.
“I’m okay!” He raises his hand with a peace sign and you sigh, annoyed.
“Really?! What were you even doing?”
“I ate some cookies for free, big deal,” he says before he suddenly raises his head with a lopsided grin. “Is sunflower worried about me?”
You groan, dusting yourself as you get up and walk over to him. You throw him a light kick at the side to which he whines overdramatically and scrunches his face into something pained. Lee Donghyuck could be hit by a bus and he’d play it off with fingers guns and eyebrow wiggling.
“Become a chainsaw-juggler or something if you want to do something dangerous,” you complain, “And get up!”
Donghyuck wrinkles his nose. “As always, you have such boring ideas.”
He does get up the next moment, although with a large show of holding his back and several whines about near-death experiences as if he’s not the one bringing it upon himself. You’re sure his back is bruised but he doesn’t acknowledge it as anything more than a joke. There’s also a gash on his cheek he must have received earlier. It’s no surprise he has a fresh batch of wounds—you think he spends more time in the nurse’s office than in actual classes.
“Why do you pick fights with people clearly stronger than you?” you grumble as he dusts himself off.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” Donghyuck says, straightening, “I would’ve got out of this pretty clean without you.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure thing.”
Donghyuck frowns, a huff leaving his mouth.
“I don’t mean to brag but that guy would have been running for his life if you hadn’t butt in,” he shrugs, trying to sound less ruffled.
You laugh at his expression, forgetting about your bruised arms for a moment.
“You should treat me,” you say, the thought passing your head. You don’t have change and you’re really craving some strawberry milk.
He scoffs. “For what?”
“For saving you.”
You expected a retort, at least. Donghyuck pauses for a moment before a worrying grin floats up on his face. “Sure. Come with me.”
You narrow your eyes at him but follow nonetheless, walking side by side. The sunlight makes his skin glow, the hue on his cheeks perfect were it not for the dried blood from the gash. His eyes shine when he smiles, mischief or not, when he’s telling you about how you should try vandalism and robbery sometimes, they’re pretty fun. It’s a Donghyuck trait—to be able to live like this and still call it fun. You look at his lips once and immediately look away. What a silly thought. They’re regrettably pretty, though, despite being busted often. The sun has been kind to Donghyuck, with the colour of his skin full and the confidence you’d only find in someone made of sun flares.
So that’s why.
You stare at the motorbike parked at a clearly No Parking area, the metallic red gleaming under the late afternoon sun. You’ve never been on one before but something tells you Donghyuck would traumatise you far too much to try again. You cannot agree to get on that.
“Hop on,” he instructs.
You hesitate. “Where are we going?”
“To the centre, of course.” He smiles brightly. “There’s a bunch of bakeries and eateries over there.”
“You can just buy me some strawberry milk from a vending machine around.”
“Well, I forgot my wallet,” he says, looking up to think, “I left it at my job.”
You furrow your eyebrows, not believing a word. It’s Lee Donghyuck after all, the opposite of predictable, and arguing with him will only cost you your breath.
“A motorbike and no leather jacket?” You smile, regaining your composure. “I mean, not everyone can pull off the leather jacket, of course.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes overstatedly. “I don’t expect you to be smarter but stereotypes? Wow.”
You do get on the bike, however, with some pushing on Donghyuck’s side. More importantly, you somehow don’t end up traumatised despite what you supposed. It felt good, wind in your hair and although your legs were stuck to the sides of the bike like glue, you found yourself enjoying the scene around you speeding by. The fact that Donghyuck can be careful was beyond your knowledge and understanding.
The buildings are a little taller here and while you’ve been here before, the sight never fails to make your heartbeat quicken. There’s something inevitably calling about this place. You’d love to explore when there are nightlights around each corner.
“Your wallet?” you remind Donghyuck.
Donghyuck feigns surprise, gasping. “Right! It was in my pocket. But I have no money.”
“What? We came all the way here for nothing?!”
“No. I have a plan.” Donghyuck grins, pointing towards the pretty glass door of the bakery across the street.
“Oh no,” you say quietly as the realization dawns, “We’re not stealing.”
“Then you came all the way here for nothing.”
You sigh heavily into your hands as Donghyuck tries to sweeten his grin, clearly trying to convince you.
“You really don’t have to be this annoying, you know that?”
“It’s a choice,” he says, pulling a face, “And I do it because I excel at it, thank you very much.”
You reluctantly follow Donghyuck into the bakery, people bustling in and out, mostly for their fix of evening coffee or tea. There are photo frames around pictures of coffee beans, tea leaves and pastries, all against a soft orange wallpaper. It’s not as small as it looked from outside, you realize, with its capacity for people quite enough. The smell of chocolate is predominant, hazelnut and coffee wafting in from the left side.
“Free samples!” Donghyuck gasps, before turning to whisper to you, “You know we can try one of each, right? That saves us some trouble.”
You’d be lying if his lips so close to your ears didn’t make you jump a little. You take short steps behind him as he eagerly walks to the counter.
“Ah, is this a new type?” Donghyuck asks, beaming at the woman behind the counter. She raises an eyebrow at the ear piercings and tattoos, gracing him with a smile nonetheless.
While he’s engaged in conversation, you stare at the two of them confused till you’re met with a light kick at your foot. You give Donghyuck a dirty look, who keeps pointing towards the samples with his hands under the counter.
“You’re supposed to shove some into your bag, you know?” he leans in to whisper, exasperated, when the lady leaves to enter the pantry.
“Well, how was I supposed to know, genius?” you shoot back, crossing your arms.
Donghyuck looks around nervously before taking a few of the tarts and carefully placing them in your bag.
“Don’t move too much or you’ll crush them,” he warns in a hush.
The woman returns again, with a warmer smile and Donghyuck goes back to his clever, silver-tongued words. He’s so awful, you think. But you can’t deny the exhilaration in your chest, a giddy feeling of doing the wrong thing in a way that feels right.
You end up having the free samples afterward, pretending to contemplate buying as the woman looks at the two of you expectantly. It’s delicious, sweet chocolate manipulating your taste buds to want another bite almost immediately after you’re done.
“We do offer couple discounts, too!” she says, beaming.
There it is again, the unsettling implications—accusations almost. Since when do the two of you look like a couple? You’re obviously too young to be looking the sort of way most lovers do and where the fuck do they see any love anyway?
“Uh,” Donghyuck begins but can’t seem to form a sentence.
Before either of you can say anything, the woman is called by another customer and you look at each other at the same time.
“We should go,” he says, quickly, “before they realize we’re not buying anything.”
You nod and sneak out of the shop as quickly as you walked in, Donghyuck suddenly picking up the pace till you’re at least a few blocks away.
“You’re so slow,” Donghyuck teases, laughing when you reach him, out of breath. He adjusts his shirt, dark as always, such that it doesn’t stick out of his pants awkwardly anymore. The tattoos on his left arm catch your eye, muscles beneath flexing as his moves his arm, a strange pattern of ink. You don’t think they’re real if you’re being honest—that field of sunflowers. They’re too pretty.
You’re so annoying, you think, despite the smile forming on your face as you follow him down the lane.
Tumblr media
What a frustrating personality, the thought crosses you at night, as you kick away the blanket at your feet. He ended up paying for some ice cream at a nearby shop anyway, right after you’d finished having your stolen goods by the dog park. He said summer needs some ice and he’ll oblige just this once with whatever few notes he has left. (“Summer just ended, idiot.” “I can’t hear you.”) The first bite had immediately given him brain freeze, a whine escaping his lips as he held his head in an attempt to soothe it. You found it cute—yes, cute, a terrible choice of words for him. It doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself. It’s almost within his personality to intrude upon your thoughts like this—gods, you hate even the letters of his name that form so easily in front of your eyes.
The buzz from your phone gives you a fright as you quickly open it to two texts from Donghyuck. You adjust the brightness before you read it, your heartbeat embarrassing you at its rate.
demon child, 11:36 PM
btw today wasn’t a treat you still have to pay me
food is expensive you know
You smile. A part of you warns you shouldn’t.
demon child, 11:37 PM
or you can pay for next time
Your smile drops. Next time? What is this, a date? You shake your head instinctively. Like you’d make it out alive of a date with Lee Donghyuck.
you, 11:37 PM
sure thing little stingy man
demon child, 11:38 PM
wow that was fast do you like me or something
You roll your eyes. You might have really decked Donghyuck in the jaw in another timeline, where you knew how to deck someone in the jaw.
You feel a certain static in your heart, hoping you’re mistaken as you respond to his texts for the rest of the night. Lee Donghyuck needs to have the last word all the time, and you lose count of how many times you huff, only giving in when the tiredness in your eyes seeps to the rest of your body.
You think you smile in your sleep that night but you can’t be sure.
Tumblr media
The thing about bad days is that you notice nothing outside of them when you’re having them—but you forget you ever even had them when you’re not.
You end up at school with a lack of will to pay attention to classes. It’s well into the semester, and that means it’s time for you to get to some serious studying, except, well, you can’t. You’re decent at academics—or so you’d like to think. You’re average at best and there’s a nagging thought eating away at your brain at a painfully slow rate.
The college application deadlines are near.
It doesn’t help to be second and third best at almost everything. You nod along to everything Jihyun is saying; really, he aces every subject without trying. His words aren’t exactly…encouraging. You thought his notes would be your ticket to a dream college except he’s not quite the person you should be asking help from.
You’re suddenly not sure about all the friendly competitions you’re running.
You’re starting to feel too worked up these days, worry tugging at the back of your head every moment. It’s lonely when your friends are busy with their own struggles so you stay quiet. You’re a big kid, you tell yourself, you got this.
Except you really don’t.
“Woah,” Donghyuck interrupts you and Jihyun. “You look like you used the dryer on the wrong setting.”
Sometimes, it’s really not the best of situations to have your seat beside Donghyuck. You glare at him, keeping your notebook on the table with a loud ‘SLAM!’ You turn your head to find him smiling. Oh, he better not start now.
“Ah, (name),” he says, grinning, “what’s got you so upset today?”
“Nothing,” you insist, trying your best to control your scowl.
It’s been two weeks since you ‘hung out’ (committed minor crimes) at the bakery. Your friendly bickering since then has been not-so-friendly, you think with a grimace. He’s been getting under your skin—not a favourable thing when you’re against Lee Donghyuck.
“(name).”
You look up to see Jihyun, almost always devoid of any emotion behind the eyes—even if he’s smiling.
“The notes you asked for,” he says, keeping the notes on your table and turning around, almost as if he’s glad to be rid of conversation.
“Oh, and,” Jihyun turns back around. “If you’re hoping to get into any college at all, I hope you keep the right company.”
There’s contempt in his voice and your eyes trail to Donghyuck’s, a little confused if not bothered. You shouldn’t be surprised to find him grinning, laughing almost. You think Donghyuck’s confidence is a good substitute for a leather jacket.
“Hey, come on now.” Donghyuck leans back in his seat, smiling like a kid. You wonder where all that sunshine’s coming from. “Are you still mad about me beating you at that MUN thing?”
Jihyun smiles. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I wasn’t referring to you, of course. And there’s worse things you’ve done.”
Your teacher walks in, drawing everyone’s attention instead as they scurry back to their seats. Donghyuck’s eyes linger on you for a second longer, his face blanched before he turns away and rests his chin on his palm. You think you weren’t supposed to steal so many glances at him throughout the class.
The day somehow manages to draw energy out of you even further. Worries aside, Jihyun’s been strangely demanding—are you even that close? Should he be asking you to bring things this way? Should he be making you run errands? You’re so close to losing it before you realize you can’t. He’s helping you, sort of. You groan into your hands during break, ignoring Donghyuck’s eyebrow raise from beside you. It’s unfair and while you’re sure it’s all light-hearted, you have another name to curse when you run into a problem. Ah, the scorn of high school kids is truly incomparable.
You almost sigh in relief at the last ring of the bell for the day, getting up a little too enthusiastically. You get some admonishment from the teacher at that but you forget once you’ve reached the gates, almost running out faster than your friends. They let you go with a laugh, your desire to get home and take a nap triumphing every other thing on your mind. Some days are meant to be forgotten.
Cursed as you are, you bump into Donghyuck a few blocks from the bus stop. He adjusts the collar of his plaid shirt in a hurry, the black T-shirt underneath so worn out, you wonder how many years he’s been wearing that. The symbol on his baseball cap is probably related to a demon cult, you think. It being related to a metal band is also a possibility.
“(name),” he says, grinning. “What a coincidence.”
“Don’t pick a fight now, demon,” you huff before he can continue.
“I didn’t even say anything.” He raises his arms defensively. “Yet.”
You have the intense desire to punch him. When did the tables turn to this? Weren’t you supposed to be the calm one?
“You had fun running errands for President Snob?” he snickers.
“Well, I didn’t want to,” you say, your shoulders dropping, annoyed as you are. It makes you a little upset for something to affect you that much. You wish you were like the kids who barely cared about things like college applications, enjoying life either way. You wish you didn’t have this strange pretence of a person you are. You wish you were like Donghyuck.
There’s a pause.
“Come on. Don’t let anyone push you around like that.”  His voice comes off as exasperated. Donghyuck isn’t the kind of person to let worry show.
You look up, a little surprised. Before you can open your mouth, he cuts you off.
“There’s some festival going on at the centre,” he says with a shrug. “Lots of food trucks. Wanna come?”
You furrow your eyebrows, a frown taking shape over your lips.
“Stealing off others doesn’t exactly make me feel good about myself,” you say, hugging yourself. As fun as the adrenaline rush was, it’s better to stick to morals, whatever they may be.
“I’ll pay,” he says, his smile incredulous. “I promise.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What, you got a credit card lying around somewhere?”
“Nope,” he responds, rolling his eyes. “No credit card. Don’t believe in money.”
“Then how do you plan on paying?” you ask, frustrated.
“Trust me,” he whispers, urging you to follow him.
It turns out Donghyuck happens to know every food outlet in the city and also happens to have been kicked out of half of them, which is oddly impressive. He’s also worked several jobs in local eateries, the old ladies more than fond of him. (“Who wouldn’t find my charming smile adorable?”)
“You hobgoblin,” you exclaim, huffing. His story about vandalism on the bleachers shouldn’t have been as amusing, or endearing, for that matter.
“According to our lovely folklore, hobgoblins can warm your heart,” he replies, as-a-matter-of-factly.
“That is definitely not true. You just have to respond with something, don’t you?”
“And what of it?”
A (surprisingly) within-speed-limits bike ride away, you end up in a flurry of colours and crowds—you gasp at the large line of food trucks lining the pathway leading to the people’s square. You’ve never seen this before, looking from place to place. A lot of them look like they’ve come from pretty far.
At the square, there are wooden stalls of food out for trial by the people, shopkeepers encouraging the few tourists there are to try the local food. You spot various fishcakes, dumplings and street toast with glimpses of strawberry and banana milk decorating the stands in between. There are old upbeat songs playing through the speakers attached to the electricity poles, faint enough to be drowned out by crowds but loud enough to enjoy a little dance to. You didn’t realize you were smiling till you turned around to see an amused look on Donghyuck’s face.
Time only seems to fly—like when you’re done with your favourite song and it just wasn’t long enough so you hit repeat. The truth is, a song is barely four minutes—and yet you feel like you saw a movie, a story in it; so very curious because you were so sure it was too short.
Donghyuck walks side by side with you to where his bike is parked. (You wonder if he ever travels without it. Gas isn’t exactly cheap.) There’s little distance between the two of you, something neither of you seems to notice. You bite into the sugar candy, the sudden crack sound in the quiet lane making the two of you laugh despite the surge of sugar on your tongue. You forget what you were talking about.
“Why do you even steal, Donghyuck?” You ask softly. You paid for some food today, some were free samples and mostly, there was nothing illegal involved. Donghyuck didn’t particularly want to cause trouble either. You don’t want to be a bad judge of character.
“Because I can.”
What an expected answer. Is there anything Donghyuck can’t do?
“Don’t you feel bad?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s always been so confusing, but when he starts to make sense, you feel like you should’ve seen it that way in the first place.
“Are you talking about our sweet bakery? You really think a company as big as theirs would notice some free samples are missing?” Donghyuck says, making a face. “In a city no one cares about?”
You don’t say anything, puffing your left cheek in contemplation.
“Look, I could spend the rest of my life looting as much as my arms could carry and I would never be able to make my crimes pose even the smallest threat to a single shitty millionaire.” Donghyuck waves his hands about in a gesture that implies indifference.
You suppose he’s right, walking up to him and continuing your journey up.
“I’m not justifying myself,” he says, voice softer, shoulders relaxed. “Stealing’s bad. Other people are affected. I know. It’s just that I like having more choices than they give us. We should try everything we can, you know?”
Is that why he’s always up to something? Flitting from club to club in school, running around the entire city like it’s his own?
He shakes himself immediately, cringing. “Ah. Ew. I can’t believe you’re getting to my head, sunflower. Yuck. You’re ruining me. Did I just monologue?”
“Oh, okay.” You cross your arms. “That’s my fault now. It’s a good thing to be honest, asshole.”
“La, la, la.” Donghyuck puts his fingers in his ears, sticking out his tongue. “Can’t lecture me if I can’t hear you.”
You punch his shoulders, his laugh accompanying the evening blooming in full colours above you as you forget you’re already on your journey back.
Tumblr media
You reach Red’s before nightfall, a sort of pitstop for kids like you when it’s time to go home before the night soaks into you. Donghyuck feels lighter in his chest as he enters, the jingling pleasant and the smell of waffles even more so. He just can’t believe you’re the reason he’s here.
“Obviously, we’re going for chocolate waffles,” he says, crossing his arms.
The tables outside are better than the stuffy humid air inside. Donghyuck’s complaining didn’t let you take even a step inside.
“We just ate,” you reason, your eyebrows furrowed. “And honey is always better!”
“Eh, what do you know?” he says, resting his elbow against the table. “I was raised in this diner, newbie.”
“Yeah, you and a million other rats.”
He presses his tongue against his cheek to stop the smile, although he reckons he’s doing a terrible job of it.
Get yourself together, one voice pipes up in his head.
Or say it. Ask them out. Yeah, the other voice is a piece of shit. That’s not going to work out.
Donghyuck didn’t realize he’d fallen silent, a daze over his eyes. He blinks a few time to regain focus, the peach hue across your cheeks coming to his attention. It’s adorable, if he could just reach out and place his palm against your cheek, just lean over the table and—
Fuck. No way.
“Stop staring at me like some sleaze,” you huff, eyes flickering between him and the table.
“Why would I stare at you?” he retorts, resisting the heat on his face. “You’re not that pretty.”
“Right,” you say, rolling your eyes as you hold your arm.
The lights lining the eaves flicker on almost at the same time, the sky still in transitionary lilac and you look up with your lips parted, something akin to curiosity in your eyes. Pretty. It could just be the reflection of the lights though—Donghyuck’s not exactly the poetic type. He wants to curl his lips at the notion, but it’s not very smart to have all his thoughts show up on his face.
“Can we stay here a little longer?” you say, eyes still on the lights, occasionally shifting to the sky.
“Your parents will worry.” Donghyuck thinks for a moment before mumbling, “It’s not safe.”
“Then drop me home,” you say, your eyes shifting to meet his, an unusual confidence in them.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the skip of his heartbeat.
Donghyuck thinks he should pat himself on the back for not speeding all the times you were with him on his bike. He loves the thing to death, although he’s had it for barely a year. The jolt of adrenaline and the freedom blooming in sprouts within his ribcage should be a dead giveaway to what he feels about speeding. Donghyuck’s never really cared about rules. Break them, bend them—it’s up to him and he loves that feeling of control. Whatever people think of him, they’re nowhere close to the truth. They’ll never know just how much he has everything under control.
Except you.
How annoying, he thinks to himself as he feels the speed picking up and your distant warmth behind him. He feels a little tingle in his chest, the way he always does when he gets the urge to do something reckless.
What if he were to speed up just a little? No, that would be childish. He should definitely not do that.
You wrap your arms around his waist with a squeak at the sudden jerk as he revs up the bike, a grin growing on his face despite his attempts to hold it back. You’re warm, compared to the sharp winds grazing him and he wants you to hold onto him like this a little longer. If he’s not childish now, when else will he be?
Tumblr media
You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep, faint sunlight hiding behind the curtains ready to present the evening to you. A celebratory nap for the end of the deadlines that’s been haunting you overextended a little bit more than you’d anticipated. Just a few more weeks and it’s the finals and then, it’s all over. You stretch your hand out to switch on the lights, groaning when you can’t seem to reach it and reluctantly getting up.
You startle, a little yelp leaving your mouth at the knock on your window. What in hell? Either you haven’t slept enough or you slept too much.
You let out another yelp when you see Donghyuck’s face. There’s a band-aid over the line of his jaw starting to peel off and another one over the bridge of his nose. His hair looks recently washed, underneath the cap he’s wearing the right way for once, a pleasant smell wafting off him. You wonder what the occasion is for him to have cleaned up like this.
“Did you just climb up to my window?!”
There’s a pause.
“Yes.”
There’s another pause.
“Anyway,” he continues, “Since you’ve been enjoying my premium Haechan recommendations lately, I’ve got another plan for you.”
“Haechan?” You tilt your head. “Full sun? Is that why you call me sunflower?”
Donghyuck’s cheeks colour. “That’s- That’s not- We’re going to the club today!”
You find the sudden fluctuation in his voice cute. You suppress your smile, before giving in to his constant nagging for you to hurry up and follow him. (“Why would I get out through the window?” “Won’t your parents, like, kill me if they saw me at your front door?”)
There’s no bike today. In a way, you’re sad it isn’t there; the memory of your arms around Donghyuck making you feel hot in the cheeks for wanting it again.
“I finished my budget for fuel because of you,” he complains.
“No one asked you to be a show-off,” you retort.
He opens his mouth but says nothing, resorting to pull a face at you instead. Public transportation it is today. Even if there’s, what, nine subway stations in the city, Donghyuck seems to have already planned out the route. He walks with a bounce to his steps, turning around to walk backward facing you just to laugh and call you slow.
You run up the stairs to the station, another evening beginning something yet anew. The clouds disappear, replaced with the tiles of the station roof as Donghyuck eyes something in the distance.
“Oh no,” you say, your gaze traveling to wherever his is fixed. “We’re paying for the tickets. Hell, I’ll pay.”
Donghyuck grins at you and before he can make the stupid decision of jumping over the faregate, you grab the back of his collar, a choked sound leaving his mouth. You pull him by the sleeves of his hoodie to the ticket machines, relatively empty when the old folk use the ticket booths instead.
“You’ll go to jail if you murder me,” Donghyuck says, whining as he massages his neck. “It’s not pleasant, let me tell you that.”
“You’ve been?”
“Not yet.”
The club Donghyuck was talking about turns out to be more of a music joint, really. The letters ‘No Smoking’ spelled clearly beside the entrance, you eye the guard nervously. A rather skinny man who seems to be in his early twenties, you wonder how Donghyuck knows him as he lets the two of you in. You don’t have time to ask as you’re pulled in, a gasp barely leaving your mouth at the force.
It’s different inside. It’s not as dark as you’d expect, a rather mellow set of colours spread through the place. There’s a band playing songs from the 80s, the sound of indie rock pulsing through the place. Some people are dancing, some sitting at the round tables, looking as if they’re waiting for someone or, at the very least, a pretty stranger.  
You look up at Donghyuck, a hum on his lips as he thinks.
“The song’s so boring,” he says finally. “Let’s change it.”
“It’s a live band, Donghyuck.” You deadpan. “You can’t press next here.”
“It’s called requesting, stupid.”
Donghyuck runs off before you can say anything, suddenly awkward about standing alone in a room full of people. You look around—the amount of people isn’t too much but at the same time it’s much more than you see in your average crowded room. Most of them are sitting, now that you see clearly, some with ramen on the tables, some with beer and chicken. There’s a bar at the other edge, people joking with each other over drinks.
You’re not sure how you’d describe it but it smells like people in here.
You look around further, curiously, at the beige wallpaper and vines decorating the edges—it’s larger than you thought a club would be. (But really, the only images you have are of purple and blue lighting on giant drunk crowds when you think of clubs.)
“Hey, pretty.”
You startle at the voice, an older man standing beside you. He seems to be a little old for a college kid, a rather impish look on his face with a very prominent grin.
“Uh, hi,” you say, unsure.
“You don’t come here often, do you?” He leans his left side against the wall.
“No, not really.” You’re a minor. Technically, you’re not even allowed in here.
Your nervousness seems to have shown up on your face because the guy straightens, a little smile on his face.
“Woah, don’t look so worried.” He laughs a little. There’s a scent of alcohol in his breath. “Will a friendly handshake make you feel better?”
You look on, a little unsure but definitely surprised. You go along with what he says, the movement of your hands in the childish pattern bringing a smile to your face till eventually, you’re laughing.
“I don’t mean to be too forward,” he says, “But you’re, like, a kid, right?”
You straighten, stammering out words of denial. You don’t want to be kicked out. You’ve never been kicked out of anything before.
“And that’s your boyfriend right there?” He asks, pointing over to Donghyuck having a conversation with the bass guitarist.
You think you turn pink, but you shake your head vehemently.
“Well, don’t worry, kid,” he says, laughing. “Enjoy it while you can. Not everyone gets to have a partner in crime.”
With that, he walks off to the bar after a wave of goodbye and a smile, making you wonder if adults really are the same as you. You smile a little to yourself.
You yelp when you’re grabbed by the arm, Donghyuck’s own arm linking through it.
“I’m gonna teach you how to dance,” he says, grinning. “Be prepared to thank me.”
You furrow your eyebrows at him and right when you open your mouth the next song starts with a drum solo. You look at the band, confused. They’re all grinning, however, and soon the song steadies into an upbeat sort of mood. You think you smile, but it’s probably just in the eyes.
“Eyes on me, loser,” Donghyuck says, smiling wide at you.
You turn back to him, an indescribable amount of emotions surging into you. Lee Donghyuck is a phenomenon of a person, you think, almost ready to voice it out loud.
More people join in with the dancing, the place seeming much fuller now that you see everyone up. You catch the man from earlier throwing you a wink and a finger gun in a friendly gesture. You laugh in response, Donghyuck complaining about your lack of focus. (If you’re being honest, you think he meant your lack of attention to him.)
You can’t count the minutes or hours—what’s the difference, really? Donghyuck smiles through his eyes, telling you you’re a terrible dancer (and that, of course, not everyone is born perfect like him). You learn to love the unknown songs, each note catching on to a new piece of your heart as Donghyuck shows you a move to copy, singing along gibberish lyrics to the songs he doesn’t know. It’s weird how you can mould into songs like this, songs you don’t even know—their beats pulling out different people and melodies making that person familiar.
There’s a soft halt when Donghyuck catches something through the corner of his eyes. He makes a face that spells out ‘yikes’ before leading you off the dance floor, snaking through the crowds till you’re back to the entrance.
“What’s wrong?” You say, eyes scanning his face.
“Oh, nothing, really,” he says, an unsure lilt to his voice.
Your question answers itself at the gruff voice barely audible over the music, a notch louder than when you’d entered.
“Hey, kid!”
Your heart jumps against your ribcage at the uniform of a police officer by the entrance, thinking whether everything really had to go wrong right now. Is underage dancing a crime? You didn’t drink and—oh, the entrance probably said 19+.
Donghyuck’s eyes flit from place to place looking for an escape when the officer confronts him, grabbing him by the shoulder.
“You’re the kid that’s been stealing around the shops, aren’t you?”
“Uh, no?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow, the expression on his face almost comedic. “You’ve got the wrong kid, officer.”
“And what might you be doing in a club? Where’s your ID?”
“About that…”
Donghyuck pushes the man with his elbow, leg extending to trip him, catching him off guard. You’d even be impressed if the loud crash didn’t make you yelp in surprise, looking at the two of them with terrified incredulity.
Donghyuck takes off running almost immediately after before backtracking and gesturing at you exasperatedly. “You know you’re supposed to run when I run, right?”
“What the fuck just happe—”
Donghyuck doesn’t wait to explain, gripping your hand in his and tugging you to match his insane pace as you exit through the entrance.
It takes a while to reach the subway station even at that speed and with the distant shouts of the police officer prompting you to move faster. The sky’s much darker now—you think it must be well into late evening before night gets ready to clutch the time. Donghyuck moves with careful calculation, taking turns in places you have no clue about and soon you’re running up the stairs with your breath barely caught in your throat.
The station lights are dim but you’re good as long as you don’t trip over something. You turn to the ticket machine in panic when you hear the officer’s voice by the gates.
“No time!” Donghyuck pulls you away, effortlessly jumping over the faregate and looking at you expectantly.
“I can’t do that, Donghyuck!” you complain, panic rising in your chest, adrenaline drowning the rest of it.
Before you can say anything more, Donghyuck reaches over the gate, pulling you up by the waist and grabbing your hand all over again to run down the stairs to the tunnels.
“Hey!”
You hear the shout of the lady behind the ticket counter, clearly having seen your misconduct as you pray for her to forget your face. You’d like to be able to use the subway for future travel.
The train’s about to shut its door when you reach. Donghyuck treads quickly on the stone before he jumps on, pulling you in just in time to avoid getting caught in between the sliding doors.
For a moment, there’s only the sound of heavy breathing and the movement of the train on its tracks, the burning in your throat drowning out other senses. You slide down to crouch on the floor, your face hot and sweat drenching your forehead and neck. Your shoelaces are undone, you notice, no energy left in you to reach out and tie them into your perfect knots.
There’s a few moments of silence as you regain your composure.
“What was that?!” You laugh, unable to control yourself as you clutch your stomach. “You almost got arrested!”
He joins in with his sunny laughter, crouching down beside you. “Man, I really thought I was done for.”
After a few moments, Donghyuck sits with his legs crossed atop the passenger seat, the coach mostly empty save for you and an old couple at the far corner. He animatedly recalls a story of another near-arrest he had, with you laughing beside him.
A thought passes you in between jokes and stories—what if everything was like this always? Just the two of you, in a room full of people, in a room without people. You think you’ve started looking at Donghyuck a bit too much. You’re not sure about regretting it.
Tumblr media
Donghyuck’s been getting the strangest of impulses these days.
He tilts his head away from you to check the time on his watch, the gentle weight of your head on his shoulder reassuring, even if it’s hard to admit. It’s half-past ten and he’s been staring at you for a little over an hour now. Who falls asleep in the subway? Sure, there being not many stops, the journey between each is longer but Donghyuck wouldn’t be caught dead drooling on someone’s shoulder like this.
You shift, Donghyuck immediately moving to cradle your head with his hand so it just doesn’t drop off. Your lips are puffed even in sleep as if you’re still caught in an argument with him. He chuckles to himself. It’s so like you.
Cross the line. The voice in his head says. Just dip your head a little and…
Your head leans into the skin between his neck and shoulder, a shot of electricity pulsing through him at the contact. There’s a race of thoughts within him, thoughts he shouldn’t be having.
What is he so afraid of, really? What is he, Lee Donghyuck, so afraid of? Love? That’s the lamest thing he can think of.
It’s true, though.
Fucking voice of his conscience—loud thoughts are more a pain in the ass than anything else. Donghyuck will resort to cowardice if it be so. He’s not going to be reduced to something he’s not just because he’s head over heels in his own feelings for you.
Donghyuck pushes the hair from your face, craning his neck to be able to see you better. Wanting to love, wanting to be loved—what a stupid thing to fear. He sighs, closing his own eyes and checking the time once again. He’ll wake you up in a few minutes when your station’s near.
Tumblr media
You stop at the medicine to store to buy antiseptic cream and some band-aids. Donghyuck says he doesn’t need it, he has some at home but you must be good at convincing. There’s a little garden of scratches on his palm even he’s not sure when he received.
You sit in the empty parking lot, under the only streetlight that seems to be working in the area. The convenience store beside you is there to provide its twenty-four-hour lights if not anything else. There are some people out on nightly walks, you notice when you look at the sidewalk. It surprises you a little to see shapes of people against midnight blue.
You’ve never been out so late. You text your mom to remind her you’re still alive before you can turn your attention to Donghyuck.
“Okay! Enough!” He retreats his hand, complaining. “My hand smells like a pharmacy at this point.”
You lean back against the streetlamp, sighing.
“I can’t believe we ran away from a police officer,” you say, a goofy smile on your face as you stretch your arms in front of you.
“There’s always a first.” Donghyuck grin. “You don’t have to thank me for that, by the way.”
You roll your eyes. “One of these days, you’ll regret it. How long do you plan on being reckless?”
“How long do you plan on pretending you don’t enjoy it?” He asks, face leaning in with a sly smile.
You think you feel heat on your cheeks, you can’t be sure, but you end up scoffing, a rather losing response to someone who’s used to winning.
“You’re clearly into my devilishly handsome face,” he continues with an exaggerated shake of his head. “Does my recklessness turn you on? Don’t you think I look good? You can’t blame m—”
This brat.
You yank him by the cloth of his hoodie to get face to face, noses almost touching. Watching the confidence drain from his face, you’d laugh but it’d just give away the sudden adoration you feel. What a shame this demon was blessed to be so cute.
There’s a pause the length of a breath.
Donghyuck’s eyelids flutter close just as he presses his lips against yours, a soft sound escaping yours. He places a hand against your cheek as nimbly as possible, something pushing him to deepen what you have. You give in, humming into the kiss as you pull yourself closer.
For all the havoc he wreaks, Donghyuck isn’t necessarily a bad kisser. His lips are soft—his investment in lip balms improved since you first met him and the scent of whatever he used is delicious.
It’s a few moments of kissing when Donghyuck suddenly pulls back.
“I don’t deserve this,” he says, eyes flickering.
You look on, unsure. It’s not like him to falter. “What- What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he responds, looking at his hands, “that I’m really not good enough. I’m just- I’m not who people think I am. Hell, I don’t know who I am. It’s just- I don’t-”
You place your hand against his cheek, his rambling fading away as he looks into you.
“Even if you like me because you think I’m fun,” he continues, “I mess things up, you know? I mess things up really bad. If you get hurt- If- Ah, I don’t know what to say.”
“I really like you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, “but you’re making no sense right now.”
There’s a pause within the night air.
“I…I put a kid in the hospital,” he says, voice low and upset. “In middle school. I- I didn’t mean to! I can’t remember what happened but…we had to pay the bills and- and we’re still recovering.”
There’s a stifling silence. You lift his chin up so he faces you, the inability to see his expression troubling.
“I still feel guilty,” he whispers. “I do things for fun. And I fuck up the consequences.”
Donghyuck’s calculating and careful. You already know that.
“It’s okay,” you assure him, not finding any better words. “We’re big kids now.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“I’m not saying anything like that,” you interrupt. “We’ll still fuck up, you know? Adults fuck up. Doesn’t mean we don’t do things at all.”
“God, I hate you lecturing me,” he groans, looking away.
You crack a smile, still holding his face, the side without the band-aid. Donghyuck doesn’t say you’re right, a short chuckle on his lips instead before he leans in to peck you on the mouth, slowly turning into another kiss.
You think you hear the buzz of fireflies, spring’s darlings, although you didn’t know they’d be found here. Donghyuck looks pretty under the streetlight, as you connect mole to mole, an airy feeling in your chest, almost bubbling over.
You want to tell him he’s amazing, but you figure you’d tend to his ego some other day.
Tumblr media
“Hey, you got that leather jacket!” you exclaim when you walk into class, Donghyuck’s head in Renjun’s chokehold.
He’s quick to defend himself, shaking Renjun off him and scoffing. “I didn’t get it because you said so, obviously.”
You shake your head with a laugh, sitting at your place. Donghyuck smiles to himself before dropping it to shoot some comments at Renjun.
“Nothing going on with our precious demon there?”
You look up to see Jaemin smiling at you, clearly onto something. You haven’t told anyone yet, every rendezvous a ridiculously honest secret.
You turn your head to see Donghyuck consuming a bag of hot Cheetos in what seems to be a competition with Zhong Chenle. You shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the scene. What’s even going on in their heads? If anything at all, that is.
Jaemin clears his throat, bringing your attention back to him. He has some sort of expectation in his eyes.
You laugh, more than enough to answer him. Really, being fond of Lee Donghyuck shouldn’t feel so much a crime as the city lights in his eyes do.
1K notes · View notes
leejeongz · 3 years
Text
nsfw a-z: PARK JIHOON (treasure)
Tumblr media
requested: yes, by anon
🔅thanks for requesting sweetheart i hope u like it🔅
most of this is taken from conversations i’ve had with my good pal @multifandomwhxre there are probably thousands of direct quotes lol 🥺😳 if ur reading this, pls give her a follow ❤️
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he gets quite soft. since he’s a hard dom, he wants to show you that even though you’re his little bitch, you’re also his little baby that he wants to cuddle forever. i think he’d like to talk about what happened and actually praise you in hopes of getting praised back.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
he likes your eyes, he likes how they say everything. they tell him everything you’re too shy to say or everything you’re not allowed to say.
on him, he likes his arms (shocker ik). his physical strength gives him even more power over you, like being able to pin you down on the bed or up against a wall, maybe even hold you for a short while.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he LOVES to cum inside you but only when you agree to it. if you don’t, he’s more than happy to pull out and cum on your stomach and admire how pretty it looks. when he decides you’re just gonna suck his dick, he takes great care trying to get all of his cum into your mouth and making you swallow it while his hand holds up your chin, forcing you to look at him as you do so. sometimes it doesn’t always go as planned, getting it over your face, but he’d just be like “oh look at all this mess you just made” and then use his fingers to put in all into your mouth.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
all the pictures you send him get saved into an album and he uses them and them only to get off to, even some selfies are worthy of being put in the wank bank. he thinks porn is cheating and if he ever caught you watching it, he’d be pretty disappointed rather than turned on (even if u were just fwb), so that’s why he uses ur pics and his imagination.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he knows what he’s doing, alright. he’s had enough experience to know what he likes and that’s pretty much all that matters to him and all he lets on to you too. (he’s probably only had one sexual partner, but the way he acts makes you think he’s had more)
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
butterfly (lying on the edge of the bed (or any surface) while he stands between your legs)
he loves being able to pull you closer to him by your legs, being able to reach deeper inside you and (maybe his favourite parts) being able to grab your tits and rub your clit with his thumb. there are no disadvantages of this position for him.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
very serious. might laugh AT you but that’s the only laughing to be heard.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
completely clean shaven. even the balls lol.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
not very romantic. at all. you’re still his and he doesn’t let you forget that. but you’re his cum slut or his dirty little whore in the moment. kisses are few and far between and mainly occur after he’s finished.
just wanna make a quick point- he’s not always gonna be hard dom jihoon who loves to tease and doesn’t care for ur wants. ofc he reserves some time for you two to actually be romantic, with little tickles and smooches. he can switch it up real quick depending on how YOU are feeling, it’s not about him all the time. i just chose to write this mainly about the other side of him since that is the most InTeREsTiNG and probably the most frequent kind of sex you’d have.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
only once a week. quite secretive about it when he’s acc doing it but doesn’t shy away from cracking jokes or even just generally talking about masturbation with anyone.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
where do i even begin i think it would be easier to list kinks he doesn’t have… anyway:
degradation - in the moment, you’re his slut, his whore and your desires mean very little to him. he’s not going to stop when you ask him to stop (unless u say the safe word or seem genuinely uncomfortable), you ARE going to do what he tells you to do and when he tells you to do it and you are not going to do anything else.
bondage (kinda?)- handcuffs are his best friend, he likes having your hands where he can see them or where he can hold onto the chain/your wrists, behind your back is his favourite, but he never knows which he prefers, holding them or pulling your hair. even though he has handcuffs, sometimes he likes to spice it up and use a leather belt, he finds this hotter and it turns him on a lot more.
corruption - this can include taking your virginity or just “teaching” someone innocent (virgin or not) about sex. jihoon would love it if you kept asking questions and he could just show you. he’d love to see the sluttier side of you become more and more noticeable and apparent, knowing he did that to you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
he’s up for doing it anywhere but he’d rather do it in the comfort of his own home, in the bedroom.
he wouldn’t be opposed to doing it on someone else’s bed. i imagine he’d actually find it pretty funny to fuck you on someone else’s bed, let you both get it all dirty, then go and face the friend all innocently. the inside joke/secret could be used for teasing or just to bring you closer together.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
i mean making him jealous always makes him wanna show you who you really belong to but do you really wanna be risking the best fuck of your life like that. he could easily get rid of you if you even slightly overstep the boundaries.
it’s safer to just… act like a little brat. telling him you don’t wanna do something for him like getting him a drink gets him real mad and mad jihoon=turned on jihoon when it comes to you.
but also just the normal stuff. seeing you all dressed up nice makes him wanna cancel your plans for you. pressing yourself against him while spooning gives him an instant hard on (and you need to be punished for doing that to him). sometimes even just the way you look at him, maybe it reminds him of how you look up at him while sucking his dick.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
let you be the dom 😳 absolutely never not in a million years. some guys might like to watch you try, but he doesn’t even give you the chance. he likes it when you top, but he would never EVER let you be in control.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
prefers to receive. likes to fuck your face and watch your mascara get ruined. wants you to take his whole dick, every last inch and will not be satisfied until you do.
when giving, he also likes to use his hands too. this man knows where the clit is i’m just saying. very rare that he eats you out (would rather use his fingers or toys during foreplay) and usually doesn’t last that long because it turns him on too much, he just wants to fuck you. when he does go down on you, it’s usually after he’s finished (doesn’t want to if he’s cum inside u tho).
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
whatever makes you squirm and moan the most. starts slow but gets fast real quick. once you let out even a hint of pleasure, he’s gonna slow it right down again. the “hard and fast” approach doesn’t work for everyone and so he’d make it suit your needs.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
would rather be able to spend time making the experience better and dirtier than the last, however, if he wanted to fuck there and then, or if he wanted to be in your mouth right at that moment, and there’s nothing stopping him, he’ll just take you to the bathroom or smth and would just d o i t. (tease him for a fast pass to the bathroom)
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he will do almost everything once, and most of the time will enjoy it and do it again. a light bit of bdsm and sensory deprivation (with a safe word of course) would be incorporated into what you pair would deem a normal round after just a few nights.
he’d also try anything you wanted to, he wouldn’t shy away from anything that you suggested, even if he thought he wouldn’t like it.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can usually last for a while (a while in my opinion anyway idk what u think is a long time CoUgH cOUgh evie) maybe 20-30 minutes (including foreplay ofc) but he can only usually last one round a night. he’s more than happy to eat you out or put his hands to good use if you wanna cum again tho- one of the only times he’ll let you tell him what to do.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
uses toys to tease you. likes holding a vibrator to your clit and telling you not to cum until he says you can. it really turns him on to use them on you. but if he ever caught you using them on yourself without his permission… you’re in for one hell of a “talking to”.
would never use them on himself- he thinks giving you the power to use them on him, or even using them on himself, is too much power that he doesn’t have for himself if that makes sense.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
a whole bloody lot okay. he doesn’t care where you are or who you’re with, if he wants to tease you, he will. is the type to buy one of those toys that you can control on your phone and then laugh when you’re at point of orgasm in the middle of dinner. the reactions he gets from you might turn him on a little, and it’s always your fault if they do, you’re gonna pay for it.
he’s really REALLY unfair during sex too, although to him it’s very fair that you have to wait to be treated. as i mentioned before, he likes to steady the pace when you’re getting into it and he also likes slapping his dick on you to tease you before actually going in. just some of the many things he does to tease you and to treat you “as you deserve”
a lot of the teasing he does is for you though, don’t get me wrong. he knows this will make up you hungrier and you will cum harder and feel good so he doesn’t it all the more.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
GROWLS
only so you can hear them, right next to your ear.
and also a lot of degradation, but volume isn’t something he cares about with that.
idk where to put this but i don’t think he’d be a fan of you being too loud, especially when there are other people in the house. if they were gonna hear anyone, he wants it to be him.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
“come here” jihoon orders as you shut the front door behind you.
you apprehensively approach the coach upon which he is sat, relaxed but noticeably hard.
“care to explain this” he shows you the text you sent him as you were on your way home reading “remember that cash you gave me to spend?” with a photo of your new ruby red lingerie set attached. “you knew what you were doing, didn’t you? maybe i shouldn’t even punish you for this, but i want to”
you swallowed audibly, knowing you were going to be punished, kind of excited about what’s to come.
“get here” he nodded towards his lap. you did as he requested, lying face down on his lap, and he immediately pulled your jeans down a little. he rubbed your ass a little before forcefully planting a harsh hand on it. the other hand held your wrists together behind your back, squeezing them until they became numb. you squealed a little which encouraged another smack. both cheeks soon became the same colour as your new lingerie, still jiggling as much as the first time even though you were tense.
“you want another?” he asked. you nodded without thinking, the stinging infesting your brain. “hmm interesting” he sat back for a moment, considering his next move while his hand rested on your back. you tried to get up… little did you know this was when the real punishment was going to begin.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
does it matter this guy can give you all the pleasure you need with whatever tools he’s got 👀
but i think he’s average tbh… maybe a lil bit longer and girthier (?) but nothing too large. one of the biggest in group. still enough to have you choking and gagging in the first 5 mins of a blowjob hahahahahah
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
very high 😳 and he’s not afraid to show it. 5 days a week is his ideal but he understands that too much of a good thing can make you bored of it so it’s usually probably just once or twice a week. expects some spontaneous head when ur not gonna acc have sex tho.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
once he knows that you’re happy and that you’ve had a good time, he can fall asleep anytime (usually pretty quickly bc he’s tired from having a literal workout with you). if something seems off with you afterwards, he’d stay awake for hours thinking what he could have possibly done wrong, even though he knows you’d tell him if something was wrong.
299 notes · View notes
hotchley · 3 years
Text
like blood underneath your fingernails
Honestly, I’m quite proud of this one. It’s been in the works for a while, and I finally have a title (from Looking Too Closely- Fink) and I both did those flashcards and emptied the dishwasher, so it’s here now. It’s been proofread!! Once. In the car.
The writers (according to the internet) did not deal with the aftermath of Scratch’s initial... thing. So I took it upon myself to write the case after. It got dark, but I had fun writing it. And it has low-key Mortch vibes... a lot of other amazing writers have also written fics linked to this, so you need to read those too because they’re just the best
OH!! This is not a Rossi-friendly fic. I have tried to explain why he responds the way he does, but it does come off as Rossi bashing, so if you reallllly love him and think he was a great friend to Hotch... skip on this one.
Trigger Warnings: dissociation, aftermath of torture, a slight reference to suicide and child death, canon-typical violence, cases involving kidnappings and murder, blood, dark themes, other canon-typical darkness, hallucinations
read on ao3!
He cannot close his eyes.
Because when he closes his eyes, he sees one of them, falling to the ground as the light leaves their eyes and the life leaves their body because his worst fear has never been his own death. It has always been the death of the family he is meant to protect- whether that was Sean, or Haley or the team. 
He hears the fear in JJ's voice as Spencer, her little brother, the boy that has always been too young, the man that he has never succeeded in saving, falls to the ground, eyes never opening again. 
He tastes the horrifying and coppery tang of blood as Derek is shot right in front of his eyes, the blood splattering onto his cheek and every sentence Reid has ever spoken about the bacteria and pathogens in blood springing to the forefront of his mind.
He smells the bitter and disgusting sage that Peter Lewis uses to torment people and turn them into brutal murderers that cannot stand the sight of their own hands or wrap their heads around their actions because they had always been normal and good, and it hurts because he's already a killer, never once normal or good.
He touches the knife that was slid towards him, the metal cool against his warm hand and the weight a comforting thing that make him feel like he could regain control of the situation he was in, despite the thoughts of George Foyet that fill his mind, and he wonders whether Scratch is impotent.
He closes his eyes and he no longer knows what is real.
It is why he is returning to work only ten days after the case. He had wanted to take the usual five, terrified even of that small number because he couldn't trust himself. The doctors that assessed him in the hospital wanted him to take thirty. Ten, and a passed psychological evaluation, had been the compromise.
He wonders if the team knows how he lied. They must do. They aren't stupid. He wonders if anyone will call him out on it, or if they'll once again be so terrified of the humanity he wants nothing more than to cling to that they will simply watch and wait until he shatters again.
The steady ticking of the clock is the only noise in the otherwise silent apartment. When he flicks the light on, he sees there are still five hours until he needs to wake up. For a single moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating whether or not attempting to sleep is a pointless exercise. He swears he can still taste sage and opens his eyes again.
A silent house is not necessarily a bad thing. It means Jack is sleeping through the night, no nightmares about the gunshots haunting him. And it means the extra locks on the door, the obsessive way he checks every window is locked as soon as the sun goes down, are doing their job at keeping the monsters out of the only home Jack has real memories of.
Aaron creeps out of bed, grabbing the jumper that was folded at the foot of his bed. Once he's put it on, he sighs to himself and counts to five. For each number, he tells himself a fact that cannot be disputed. That grounds him.
His name is Aaron Hotchner.
He is forty-four years old. 
He is standing inside his bedroom, in his apartment, which is located in Virginia.
The windows of that apartment are locked from the inside.
Just down the hallway, his son is sleeping peacefully, untouched by the monsters that strangle his father every single day.
He creeps down that hallway, taking comfort when the same floorboard that always creaks does just that. Normally he would avoid it. But lately he's been finding every opportunity to do something that Peter Lewis would have no knowledge of, if only so he can convince himself he's fine.
Jack's door is slightly open, allowing some light to enter. Aaron nudges it gently, making sure he doesn't wake Jack. The door doesn't make a sound, and his son carries on sleeping. He never looks so similar to his mother as he does when he sleeps. Haley slept on her left side, a slight smile on her face, and Jack does the same, unless he has a bad dream.
But even then, he is so much like his mother that his tears can be turned into something beautiful. Aaron was the exception of their little family, having always expressed his emotions so honestly, the few times he let himself do that, that there was no way it could be anything but ugly and human.
He's too big for the chair in front of Jack's desk, but he sits in it anyways, turning it so he can face Jack's bed. On the table is his latest art project- a collage of things that remind him of the people he loves- and Aaron finds it difficult to look at. Because his son has painted his mother as a perfect angel, and his father a superhero.
One day, Jack will realise his father is the furthest thing from the superhero and he will hate him for destroying his childhood and taking his mother from him before he was old enough to understand that people were mortal. Aaron is mentally preparing for that day- there are already so many letters that will never excuse or justify what he did hidden in his office drawer- but until then. he will allow himself this one good thing.
He will allow himself to sit, and take comfort in the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest. He ends up staying there until sunlight starts to stream through the window, and then he takes his leave. 
Seeing Jack, sleeping so calmly and normally, reminds him of why he's going back to work. Because if he hurts the wrong person there, the team won't hesitate and they'll do it. If he hurts Jack- and he knows he's weaker than the man that refused to harm his son, knows that it will be Jack- there will be nobody there to end his pain and suffering. He'll be forced to live with it.
A minute before his alarm is set to go, he turns it off, and then he goes about morning like it is any other day. 
He doesn't feel like himself till he puts the watch Dave got him when became lead profiler on, tightening the strap till it mirrors the feeling of holding the knife. And he wonders whether the team are discussing his return to duty the same way they had six years ago. 
They are. Aaron's absence meant more paperwork for the rest of them, as there is no way the team are going to let him handle it when he comes back, so every single one of them are in an hour earlier. It also means his return will be as smooth as it can be.
Even if they don't all approve.
"It's only been ten days," Derek says. "He needs more time."
"Does he? He came back thirty-four days after George Foyet stabbed him in his apartment and his wife and son were sent into Witness Protection, and he was fine. This is like child's play compared to that," Dave says, fiddling with a paperclip.
"Ex-wife," Reid corrects quietly. 
The three of them are sitting in the bullpen, looking towards the elevator every few minutes. Kate pretends she's not listening, and Derek pretends he believes her.
"Was he fine? He looked us in the eye and asked why a man that had lost his wife and child was still alive. He walked into a hostage situation unarmed. We all pretended he was fine because we needed Foyet to strike, but I'm not making that mistake again. Not after what happened when he did end up striking," Derek snaps.
Spencer swallows. Dave just raises an eyebrow. It's almost funny. Spencer views Aaron as a father, Dave as a son. Either way, they both believe he is perfect. Able to come back from anything and everything with nothing more than a broken ego. But Derek remembers what Foyet's body looked like, and he remembers how Aaron had shattered in his arms for those few seconds.
"If you want to ruin his first day back, then be my guest. But you need to trust him the same way he trusts us. After all, you care more about him than you do your job," Dave says, annoyance bleeding into his tone.
And Derek gets it. He really does. He had wanted to believe Gideon was invincible when he came back after Boston. Everyone had. So they hadn't done anything, and he had just gotten more and more reckless with his actions until innocent people ended up dead and Hotch got suspended. And then he ran. 
He isn't going to let that happen again.
"This isn't about not trusting him. This is about keeping him safe. And you're right. I do care about him more, because the last time I didn't, he almost retired. So we either do the opposite of what we did last time, or we let history repeat itself."
"Derek, you can't force him into anything. He passed his psych eval, so Cruz can't do anything either," Spencer says. 
Derek softens as he turns to him. "I know pretty boy. It's not about forcing him into anything. It's about making sure he knows that we're here if he needs more time, or if he needs a break. And don't get me started on that psych eval. I saw his answers. They're too perfect. He's lying."
"So what are you going to do?" Dave challenges, and not for the first time, Derek wonders how Aaron kept his sanity working with him, Jason Gideon and Max Ryan at the same time without any of the other members to meet his eyes with the same exasperated look every time one of them reverted to the old fashioned way of doing things.
"Be the friend he trusts me to be," Derek says. It's his own challenge. Dave prides himself on being the only one to call him Aaron. To people outside the team, Rossi seems to be the only one that Aaron trusts enough to be vulnerable with. 
But Derek knows better. Aaron will never be completely open with anyone, but he still feels like he has a duty to be the hopeful and undamaged boy that thought he could save the world that Dave recruited. He still has a duty to be the father that Spencer never had and thought he'd found in Gideon. It is only with Derek that he allows himself to do his own type of falling apart: one that is contained and messy and ugly. Somehow both terrifying and anticlimactic
It was Derek that stopped him from running into a burning building all those years ago. It was Derek that was voluntarily told about Haley leaving. It was Derek that stepped up as Unit Chief and pulled him off Foyet's dead body. Not Dave and certainly not Spencer. So he won't let them influence his actions. Not this time.
Hotch does blink. But only when he thinks nobody will see him do it.
Dave keeps eye contact for a few more moments, but this time, Derek does not break it. Eventually the older man turns around and heads to his office. Derek sighs, knowing fully well that Aaron is going to end up doing the paperwork anyways.
"Is he going to be okay?" Spencer asks, sounding so painfully young that Derek has to look at him to remember he wasn't the new recruit anymore.
"Dave? Yeah, he'll be annoyed, we'll get a case and then everything will be fine," Derek says, smiling so Reid doesn't worry.
"No I meant Hotch. Will he be okay?"
Derek can't tell him the truth. "Of course he will. He's Hotch."
"Why are you lying to me?"
He knows there's no point in trying to deny it. "I'm not trying to patronise you or keep you in the dark. It's not that. It's just- I don't know. It's stupid, but I want to shield you from his mortality and flaws and imperfections for as long as is humanly possible. You are always going to have a different relationship with Hotch because of how much younger you are, and I just don't want to be the one that ruins it."
"So you want to protect me?"
Derek nods. "I guess."
"Thank you. Nobody ever did that when I was younger," Spencer says.
Kate breaks the ensuing silence by asking for Spencer's opinion on her consult, and Derek starts watching the elevator doors again. They don't open until precisely nine, when Hotch steps off, dressed in the same suit and tie he wears every second Monday of the month, carrying his briefcase and acting like nothing happened.
He gives them a slight smile as he passes them in the bullpen, and even those few seconds are enough for Derek to see that he hasn't been sleeping.
When Aaron sets his briefcase down, Spencer looks to him, nervous. Derek gives him a small smile, even though they all saw him as he entered. It's only been ten days since they last saw him, but his suits seem to hang from him more than before. Dave looks out at them, and Derek starts to count.
He counts to three hundred, and is immediately struck by just how fast time can go. Three hundred seconds is five minutes, and yet it feels like no time has passed. But when Hotch looks out at them, as he always does, everyday, without fail, ten days feels like a lifetime.
He is terrified as he stands, but he fights through the fear and goes up to his friend's office. The door is open, so he walks in without knocking. When Hotch looks at him, he closes both the door and the blinds. Hotch swallows as the sound of them closing fills the air.
"I don't want them profiling this conversation," he explains.
Aaron just nods. "Thank you."
"You don't need to pretend with me," Derek says.
Aaron looks away, and Foyet's presence, usually contained to the self-deprecating voice in his head telling him he's no better than his father, seems to fill the room. They both know why he doesn't pretend anymore.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"You don't need to say anything. I don't expect you to tell me the truth, because I wouldn't, if I was you. I'd be too terrified. But I remember what it was like seeing Spencer and Emily. So if you do want to talk, then I'm here. Always. And I won't flinch."
Aaron knows this to be true. When they finally got back to Quantico after Jason's death, Derek found him sobbing in the men's bathroom, the barriers he had spent so long piecing together completely breaking when he opened his drawer and found a photo from the early days, where Jason looked happy and hopeful. He hadn't said anything. Just sat beside him, and offered a tissue. 
"I know you won't."
Derek sighs, not sure what he's meant to do. "Aaron-" he starts, not sure what he's going to see next.
"I can't trust myself. I- I don't know what's real, and I keep trying to do the grounding things that the bureau therapist said I need to, but I don't know if they're working. I have post-it notes all over the apartment and I have my five facts, and I have things I can touch, but Scratch knew so much, I can't- I feel like he's everywhere and he knows everything."
It is so honestly vulnerable that Derek wants nothing more than to flee, if only so he can cling to the Aaron that existed when he first joined the unit for just one more moment. But he made a promise. And he has no idea how he's meant to keep it, but he's going to.
He holds his hand out. When Aaron doesn't take it, he leans over the desk, gently linking their fingers. "I'm here. With you. Scratch can't get our body temperatures perfect. He can't know that I'm always slightly warmer and you're always colder. He can't know that twelve years ago, I called you darling because I didn't realise it was you."
Aaron chuckles slightly. "Derek."
"You don't need to say anything. I messed up after Foyet. I won't do that again."
He shakes his head, finally meeting his eyes, and the fire in them is almost enough to convince Derek that everything is going to be fine. Almost.
"You did everything you could after Foyet. If you had tried to do more, I would have stopped you. We both know that. You did everything right, everything perfectly right and you cannot feel like you failed because you didn't. Do you understand me?"
Derek swallows. “Yes. But you need to understand that if you need anything- and I mean anything, whether it’s for me to take the reins for a bit, an unofficial firearms certification, or even just to do the grounding techniques with you, I will.”
Aaron nods. “I know Derek. I know. Thank you.”
Derek gives him the most convincing smile he can, leaving the door open because Aaron hated having it closed. As he exits. Dave steps in, and he sees as Aaron morphs back into Hotch to be the man that Dave needs him to be. It hurts to see, but he understands why it happens.
He doesn’t believe in God. He hasn’t for a while. But he needs to do something other than stare at dead bodies, so he prays that the team remain grounded for a few days. Not for too long because then Aaron will get suspicious and realise that Derek had been forging Rossi’s signature in order to transfer their out of state cases to other teams, but long enough for him to get settled once more.
Or as settled as he would ever be.
It’s probably why, only minutes after Dave leaves Hotch’s office, smiling, whilst the other man just looks exhausted, JJ comes rushing into the bullpen. There are five files in her arms, and she looks frantic. 
“No,” Derek says.
“I’m sorry, but we need to go on this one. It came directly to me. It’s- just look.”
He doesn’t want to, but as JJ goes to give the files to Dave and Aaron, he does, if only so he can gauge how much support he will need. And as he opens it, he understands exactly why they’re going on this case. Why, even if JJ had tried to hide it from Hotch, he would’ve said they had a duty.
They have four victims. All blonde women. All mothers. All divorced. Killed by a single gunshot to the head. No evidence of sexual assault, but they were held captive and tortured for three days before being dumped in their home. All found by their ex-husbands, who were only there to drop the child off.
Hotch does not show an ounce of humanity during the journey there. It terrifies Derek. Hotch only refuses to show how human he is when he’s close to falling apart. Too close for anyone to feel comfortable. Instead, he keeps his tone detached and professional. Derek pretends to not notice the way Aaron pushes down on his stomach, over the biggest scar Foyet left. Aaron pretends he doesn’t see Derek watching him.
When they get to the station, Derek knows it’s going to be a long case. Him and Reid are sent to the coroner’s office, whilst JJ and Kate are tasked with searching through their victims history. Which means Hotch and Rossi are left to interview the husbands. JJ and Derek- the most attuned to Hotch and the thought behind his actions- make a silent agreement that they will do whatever it takes to make sure Rossi doesn’t go too far. Whatever that means.
They fail because they don’t get the chance to speak to him before they leave the precinct.
And when they return, Dave is nowhere to be seen, and Aaron is sat in the conference room, clenching his jaw and hyper focused on the details in the case files.
“Did you get anything from the husbands?” JJ asks, tone gentle.
Hotch shakes his head. “They’re grieving, and terrified for their children. But they’re not guilty. They all loved their wives.”
Nobody bothers to point out all four couples were divorced.
"Where's Rossi?" Reid asks.
The tension in Aaron's shoulders increases.
"Hotch," Kate says, the only one that can.
"He accused one of the father's of committing the crime," Hotch says.
JJ and Morgan give each other identical looks. Kate looks horrified, and Spencer is stunned speechless.
"What happened after?" she prompts.
Hotch doesn't speak. Kate sighs, then leads JJ away. As she passes Spencer, she asks him to follow her because Hotch and Morgan need to speak alone. He nods and leaves without another word.
"Aaron," Derek says.
"I ended the interrogation and dragged him out of the room. And then I punched him in the face because those women remind me of Haley and those fathers remind me of myself and every accusation he made reminded me of the months after her death and I couldn't do it."
Derek wants to punch Dave himself. He must have known what he was doing, and in some strange and obscure way thought his actions would help the situation. Clearly he couldn't have been more wrong.
"You didn't cause Haley's death," he says, for lack of any other words.
"I did. Maybe I didn't put the gun to her head and pull the trigger, but I did cause it. That's not what I'm scared about though."
"What are you scared of then?" Derek asks, well aware that they're in the middle of a police station where anyone could hear them, but needing to take advantage of Aaron's vulnerability before he let his mask slip back into place.
"Scratch. I punched Dave and it felt like Scratch was laughing at me, egging me on to hurt him more. The worst part is that I almost did. Punching him felt good, and then I panicked and now I don't know- I don't know whether the only thing I did was punch him or if I did something more."
Derek curses under his breath. "How long have you been feeling like that?"
Hotch shrugs. "I couldn't- I forgot what time it was when I stumbled back here. I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he says, the words almost reflexive because of every apology Aaron has ever given him. "We just need to ground you."
He takes Aaron's hands, noting that the muscles are moving the way they should be. It's a small thing, but it's a good thing, because it means he's wearing the wrist support when he needs them and doing the physical therapy.
“Look at me,” he commands softly.
Aaron does so willingly. “Derek, we’re in a conference room.”
“That’s good. Can you give me four other facts that prove you’re here, in this moment with me?”
"My name is Aaron Hotchner. I am forty-four years old. We are in a police station. You are Derek Morgan. There is a door behind you and a window behind me- the window is locked, but the door is wide open. We can both see if someone walks in."
"Show off," Derek teases.
Aaron manages to smile slightly. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.
“You have nothing to thank me for,” Derek says. He means it.
This time, Aaron’s laugh is self-deprecating. “I’m a horrible person to look after.”
“Not to me you’re not. How do you feel now?”
He shrugs. “Better, I guess.”
“Drink some water. Slowly. I’ll go check on Dave.”
“Do you think he’s going to hate me?” Aaron asks.
“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend. Of course not,” Derek says. He keeps his tone light, but deep down he’s afraid that Dave will. Not forever, he could never do that, but for long enough that something else goes wrong.
He finds Dave in the bathroom. 
“Hotch told me what happened,” he says.
“And what? You’re here to tell me that I shouldn’t have pushed because he’s fragile and hurting? Did you tell him that he shouldn’t have fucking punched me in the face because of something I said to a suspect?”
“Those men were not suspects and you know that,” Derek snaps. He sighs. “I wasn’t coming here to tell you that you shouldn’t have pushed. I came to see whether or not you were okay.”
Dave raises an eyebrow. Derek sighs, again.
“He saw Scratch when he punched you. Now he’s worried. And he’s falling back into old patterns. I told him he didn’t kill Haley and not only did he not believe me, he flat out disagreed and said he did.”
“What do you want me to do?” Dave asks. He doesn’t sound angry, just tired. Derek wants to shout at him. He may be tired after this one event, but he’s not been the one picking up the pieces and gluing their fragile leader back together for the past few years. Dave doesn’t get to be tired. Not whilst Derek is still the only one able to do anything.
“I don’t know Dave. You’ve known him the longest. It was you that found him in the immediate aftermath. You took the gun from him- rather poetic given the last time an unsub targeted him, you told him to take yours- and got him to speak.”
Dave blinks a few times. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I thought being hard on him would bring him back, but I was wrong.”
“It’s okay. You just need to correct yourself now,” Derek says, for lack of any other words.
“I just want him to be the boy he was when he first joined the unit,” Dave whispers.
Derek did not know the boy his friend was then, but he does know the Aaron that existed before Boston. The Aaron that held a baby Jack in their arms like that one small child was enough to remove every piece of darkness to exist. The Aaron that had grabbed Haley’s hand and taken her dancing so they could spend a bit of time together.
"We all do. But he's gone now. The only thing we can do is try to save whatever pieces of him live in the Aaron that is sat in the conference room, beating himself up over something that was not his fault because of your misplaced comment," Derek says. They have a killer to catch. There's no time to entertain this.
"I know. Thank you. For doing what the rest of us are too afraid to," Dave replies. Derek shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. 
Something about the dynamic between the two men has changed, and everybody has noticed.
"Somebody has to," is all he can say, before he leaves Rossi to wash his hands and search for the man that had promised Aaron everything he could ever want, all those years ago when he first recruited him for the BAU.
There's an empty glass of water beside Hotch when Derek returns, and he's silently thankful that for once in his life, Aaron listened. He's deep in conversation with one of the police officers, so he refrains from making any comments, but when Aaron turns back towards the table, he goes over without a second thought.
He tells himself it's because he wants to know what happened just then. Because he wants to know whether or not they have any more information that can be used to their advantage. He tells himself it has nothing to do with the fact that learning about the case means he doesn't have to focus on the minute tremble of Hotch's hands. Doesn't have to see the hollow look in his eyes- a look of a man so defeated that he has no reason to try anymore.
The problem with being a profiler is that you rarely fall for anyone's bullshit- including your own.
“Did the officer have some additional information?” Derek asks.
Hotch hears him, obviously, but does not respond.
“Hotch,” he repeats.
“No. He didn’t. He wanted to know why you were holding my hands.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “And what did you say?”
“That ten days a man that managed to turn people that would never dare hurt another person into horrific killers drugged me, causing me to hallucinate the deaths of the same people that are solving his case for him, and as a result, I cannot always tell when things are real,” Aaron deadpans.
For a moment, Derek honestly can’t tell whether or not he’s joking. Then Aaron gives him the smallest smile, and he relaxes slightly. The last thing they need happening is officers spreading even more rumours about the types of cases the BAU work on.
He starts to reply with a joke of his own, then sees Aaron’s smile fade away like it was never there. He wonders how instinctive the action is- how many times was that little boy told he was too much, and how many times did he fade into the background like he didn’t even exist?
Without turning, he knows it’s Dave.
“I’m going to see if Spencer needs any help,” Derek says.
For a moment, it seems like Aaron is going to beg him to stay. But like most of his displays of humanity, it passes in a second, and then he simply nods, not even trying to fight.
“Aaron,” Dave says, walking over with purpose.
“Rossi don’t. Please,” Aaron pleads.
“What you did was stupid. But my actions were also uncalled for,” he says. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to a proper apology. Aaron accepts it because there’s not much else he can do. Dave pretends it’s going to fix everything because it’s the only thing that will get him through the case.
“Do you seriously think the fathers are to blame?” Hotch asks.
Rossi shakes his head. “Not anymore. I just needed to be sure.” He also needed to be sure that Aaron was fine, and given his response to Rossi’s accusation, he can’t say he’s convinced.
"Good," Aaron says, and the smile he gives Dave is so small and subtle, but so full of love, that for a single moment, the older profiler is able to convince himself that the fragile collection of skin and bones in front of him is still the hopeful boy that joined the unit. But then the moment passes and he's left feeling worse than before.
When the team come back, picking up on the cues that both Hotch and Rossi laid down, they go back to acting like nothing is wrong. Like the women in the photos are victims that deserve justice, and not the mirror of the same light they failed to save five years ago.
There are no breaks in the case, and they return to the hotel defeated and miserable. Budget problems mean they're doubling up. Part of Derek wants to switch rooms with Dave so he can keep an eye on Aaron, but the bigger part of him knows it would be a terrible idea, so he texts him saying that if he needs anything, no matter what time it is, he'll be available.
Aaron mouths the words thank you once he's read the message. Derek counts it as a win, and he tries to remain calm when Dave texts him saying that when he entered the shower- after Hotch- although the water dial was set to be normal, the water ran hot. Too hot.
He refrains from commenting the next morning, when Aaron clasps his glass of freezing water like a lifeline. In some ways, it is. And he knows what it's a sign of. He isn't sure whether it's caused by something in particular, or if he's just overwhelmed, but the hotel dining area- where Kate and Spencer would both hear- isn't the place to ask.
They get to the precinct, and it becomes clear that nobody there has slept. Another woman was found dead a few minutes before they got there. The father and son are sitting in the same conference room the BAU were working out of. For a moment, Aaron looks like he's going to kill the person that sent them there. The lead on the case quickly intercepts, saying they moved the boards and evidence files, and he relaxes slightly.
But before anyone can sleep, he removes his blazer and tie, before unbuttoning his top button and rolling his sleeves up. And then he walks into the conference room. Derek blinks, then it clicks. Aaron looks like a father. Someone both people sat in the room can trust. JJ hands him the information on the file, and his breathing stops for a moment.
The father and son could have been Aaron and Jack. If Aaron's eyes were darker and Jack's hair lighter, they would be the boys smiling in the photo provided with the file. He wants to take over the conversation Hotch must be having, but he finds himself rooted to the spot. How many cases are going to hit too close to home before Aaron gives up? Before it feels like every victim wears Haley's face? 
How many more times can Aaron Hotchner look into the darkest parts of humanity before his hands stop going cold at crime scenes and Derek Morgan needs to take his place in some weird parallel of the events that occurred after Boston? 
When the father and son leave the room, he jumps out of his chair and runs over.
"We will catch this man. And if you need anything, please don't hesitate to contact me," he hears Aaron say.
He sighs to himself.
The father shakes his hand and leaves, guiding his son with nothing more than a gentle hand to the back of his head. He sees Aaron swallow. 
"You know you can't promise things like that," he chastises, not truly meaning it.
"It wasn't a promise. It was a guarantee," Hotch snaps.
Morgan simply raises an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"I told him about Haley, and how I found her. And about how Jack was just down the hallway in my office- the one place in our home that my work touched, even if he never found it- so now he can't be alone on New Years or Independence Day. I only said it because he told me I didn't understand what it was like. To have to do that."
No amount of surgery is ever going to fix the hole in Aaron's heart that Haley's death created. They could plant seeds of love and watch them blossom into flowers of acceptance and fearlessness in every other part of his body, but that one area could never be touched.
Derek knows this. He's seen it before.So he doesn't offer any words, because there are none. Instead, he takes Aaron's arm and he squeezes the elbow. It is Aaron's non-verbal method of saying thank you. So in that moment, it can also be his.
Aaron isn't entirely sure why Derek is thanking him, but he learnt long ago that when someone said something, you didn't push. You accepted their words- whether they were kind declarations of love or as sharp as knives- and you moved on.
When Derek lets go of him, he walks back over to the team, feeling slightly lighter and infinitely more grounded.
Kate tells him another woman had been taken, and the weight he thought he'd been able to let go off settles on his chest like a death threat. There is a single moment where she worries that this will be the thing that causes him to fall off the edge of the cliff he's been standing on for far too long, but then he stands up properly and it's like nothing ever happened.
He doesn't sleep, instead pouring over the case file whilst Rossi gently snores beside him. If Jason had been with the team. he would've somehow realised that Hotch was still awake, and told him to go to sleep. And Hotch would've obeyed. But Jason wasn't with the team. He was dead. And sometimes that knowledge knocked Aaron off guard, so he stopped focusing on that and started concentrating on the woman.
Their break comes the next morning.
Garcia hasn't slept either, and between the two of them, they have a name and a location. Everyone piles into the cars, vests on and weapons ready, because even though nobody had said it, there was no way this is ending without at least one shot being fired.
The door to the building is unlocked, and they have their unsub surrounded within seconds. Hotch suddenly feels like a bucket of ice has been poured over him, causing him to freeze, and the blood to start pounding in his ears. Nothing feels real to him. He tightens the grip on his gun.
His name is Aaron Hotchner.
He is forty-four years old.
He is holding a gun because he is on a case.
The unsub is holding a knife to a woman's throat.
The woman looks just like Haley- no. He cannot think that. Not now. 
"Let her go," JJ commands softly.
"No," their unsub says.
What is his name? And why can Aaron not remember his name?
"If you put that knife down, and let her go, we can tell the courts that you cooperated with us. That'll be nice, won't it?" Kate adds. Her tone is completely level. Calming in a way that it shouldn't be.
The unsub grins, then presses the knife even closer to his victim's throat. She lets out a terrified whimper and closes her eyes. He yanks her hair, forcing her to open then, and he seems pleased with himself.
"I don't care about the courts. I care about the man I'm doing all of this for. He's going to be great, and he's going to make me great too. Just you wait and see."
This wasn't part of the profile. There was never meant to be a more dominant partner. The control Aaron has been clinging to in order to get through this case is slowly slipping away with each piece of information he either cannot remember or is introduced to him. 
"He? Who is he?" Spencer asks.
The man cocks his head. "Is it not obvious?"
Spencer shakes his head. "We're not like you. We need you to explain."
He nicks the skin slightly. Blood pools at the tip of the blade. Another digression from the previous pattern. No knives were ever used to cut the skin. The kills had been quick and clean. Why was everything changing?"
"I won't."
"The only way you get out of this alive is if you explain everything to us. Because this man, he won't make you great. Whoever he is, he only cares about himself. Not you. Certainly not your life. But we care about you. Just set the knife down," Derek says.
Aaron knows he needs to contribute, but he just can't do it. His tongue is like a useless knot in his mouth that he can't undo because his brain is twisted too.
"No," the man says, bringing it dangerously close to the woman's pulse.
"Aaron!" Derek shouts. "You're the only one with a clear shot. You need to take it. Or do something. Do you hear me? You are the only one that can do this. If he moves that knife, take the shot."
Aaron turns in the sound of the voice. Derek is telling him that he needs to take the shot, and he can see why. With the way they're stood, he is the only one that can possibly avoid hitting either the woman or another team member. 
He raises his hands, ignoring how they tremble. Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Three steps that he has been following since his days at the Academy. Three steps that mean he has never missed. Never failed.
The man smirks.
Aaron turns to make sure nobody else will get hurt, or can take the shot. But when he looks at Derek, it's not Derek.
It's Peter Lewis.
"No," he whispers, but in the silence of the room, he may as well have shouted at the top of his voice.
He turns to look at the man, and he sees that he is about to shoot Derek Morgan. The one person that has never been afraid of him. The one man that is still good and undamaged by his hands. The one man that can and has led the team without any sort of assistance with him.
"Aaron!" Derek's voice exclaims, but he still wears Mr Scratch's face.
Aaron does not know what is real anymore, but he knows he needs to minimise the damage. The gun falls from his hands, with the safety off. It lands on the floor with a clatter that is too loud to his ears.
Their unsub laughs, once, and slits the woman's throat. She falls to the ground, dead by the time she hits the ground. Derek- real Derek, whose hands have always been warmer than his- fires his gun once. The unsub also falls to the ground with a shout.
Aaron closes his eyes.
He hears his name.
He tastes copper.
He touches his own hand, startled by the coldness.
He sees Derek's terrified face.
He smells sage.
He smells sage.
He smells sage. And then the world goes black.
When he comes round, he does not know where he is. He does not know where the team is. He cannot ground himself in the moment or come up with five facts that prove his surroundings are real. 
He opens his eyes. The team is gone.
And he is covered in blood.
39 notes · View notes
onebatch2batch · 3 years
Note
24 or 43 for kastle from the 50 prompts thingy??
43. “Are you drunk?” [ao3]
I got a little carried away....not sorry. Thank you for the prompt!!
--
The sun has long since set by the time Karen manages to shoulder her way into her apartment building, annoyed. It’s been a long and difficult week, and she had been so excited to get home to her pajamas, wine, and fuzzy socks. In fact she’d been almost out of her office before realizing that her cabinets at home are completely empty. She’s been so busy at work that grocery shopping has been on the back burner, and she knew that if she’d just gone straight home after work she would have ordered in food all weekend. Her budget would never allow for that--and so she’d stopped at the little bodega on the way home and bought what she needed. All in all it had amounted to about four bags and a bottle of wine tucked safely away in her purse. She’d walked the five blocks home with aching hands and aching feet, dreaming of her quiet apartment. Maybe I’ll take a bath, she thinks as she shoots the broken elevator a sour look, or maybe I’ll just lay in bed and watch Netflix. Or try to work through one of my cold cases. Or read. Oh, maybe I’ll read in the bath.
She does none of those things. Karen reaches her floor, turns the corner, and her heart stutters.
There’s someone at her door. He’s got his back to her, so she can’t make out much, but he’s in dark clothes and his hood is up. He’s got his forehead pressed to her door. Part of her hopes he’s just drunk and thinks he’s somewhere else. The more logical part says that she definitely recognizes those combat boots even from behind.
“Frank?”
He jerks, then turns to give her a wide, loose smile. “Hey, Kar’n.”
She stares. Blinks. Stares some more. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh.” He shifts, nearly trips on a frayed part of the hallway carpet, catches himself last minute. “Can we talk inside?”
There goes my quiet evening.
As happy as she is to see Frank Castle alive and well, she knows not to expect more than a friendly social call. Karen passes him a handful of groceries and digs out her keys, letting them both into her warm apartment. Frank slides the lock in place behind her as she moves towards the kitchen, kicking off her heels with an embarrassingly happy groan. “Is this a coffee conversation, or something strong?” she asks over her shoulder.
Frank carefully maneuvers the handful of bags onto her counter and focuses on removing everything for her to put away. “You worried ‘bout me bein’ here?”
That’s a loaded question. She raises a brow. “Frank, you never visit recreationally. What’s going on? Are you on the run again? Need some info on someone?” If they have to have this conversation, she’d rather get the niceties out of the way and get back to her weekend.
“Nope. None of that.”  He smiles again, nearly drops an apple, and then something clicks.
“Wait a minute,” she gasps, amazed. “Are you drunk?”
His answering grin is enough. Karen laughs incredulously, some of the tension knotted in her spine loosening. As soon as she’d seen him she had assumed that he needed something, or needed her help. Not that he was paying a visit on the way home from a bar.
“I didn’t even think you drank,” she huffs, amused. She quickly puts away her groceries and then pours a glass of wine for herself.
“I don’t usually,” he admits, leaning against the counter. Now that she knows what she’s looking for, there’s a warm flush on his cheeks and a looseness to his limbs that’s different from his normal, tense posture. “It’s Curt’s birthday, we had a couple after group.”
She’s glad to hear he’s still going to that group. They settle on the couch and exchange small talk about how it’s going and how Curtis is until curiosity gets the better of her. “So why are you actually here, Frank?”
He looks caught. She’s interested to see that his usually expressive face is much more so when inebriated. Every flicker of his eye and clench of his jaw gives away what he’s thinking. It’s like reading a book on how dodgy a vigilante can look. “Well, I wanted to see you.”
It's such a line, and coming from anyone form him she would have rolled her eyes. As it stands, the idea of The Punisher making a booty call because he’s had a bit too much to drink makes her laugh. She catches the hurt look on his face before he can hide it.
“What?”
“Oh no, Frank, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m glad you’re here.” She reaches over to squeeze his arm reassuringly, which seems to mollify him slightly.
“What’s funny, then?”
“Just the thought of The Punisher making a booty call.” Karen laughs again, unable to help herself. Frank is the most intense person she’s ever met, and she would certainly know if that was his plan. She doesn’t think he would be able to hide it if it were. She looks at him, inviting him to share in the hilarity of the idea, but he’s not laughing. Not even a little. In fact, his face flashes red and he clears his throat, looking away.
“Hang on,” Karen says slowly, laugh dying in her throat. “Is that what this is?”
“No,” Frank says quickly. “No, of course not.”
He’s lying. It’s the first time he’s ever lied to her. Karen’s mouth drops open. She stares at him, waiting for him to crack a smile or announce that he’s messing with her, but he just stares out the window and clenches his jaw. When she realizes he’s not planning on explaining, she takes two large gulps of wine and sets down her glass.
“Really? Because it kind of seems like I hit the nail on the head there.”
He’s already shaking his head emphatically. “No, Karen, Christ, I just, I--I wanted to see you, that’s all--”
This could go so many different ways, she’s not sure which option to explore first. She could let him off the hook and feign ignorance, maybe talk for another hour and then send him on his way. Or she could demand he tell her what he wants. Or she could mercilessly tease him--who can say they’re able to tease The Punisher and get away with it? And anyways, he’s gotten her into plenty of life-threatening situations (even if he usually saves her from them later) so joking around to get back at him is too good to pass up.
“Is there something off putting about me, then?” She raises a brow, having only a hair too much fun. “Because now you’re being a little too defensive for my tastes.”
“Oh Jesus, Karen--”
She shrugs. “I’m just saying, we’re both single and know each other and if that’s what this is, then you just have to say it--”
He’s starting to look panicked. “No it’s--”
“Come on, Frank, just admit it. You came here for a booty call--”
“Hey, no--”
“Because you’re drunk and have some excess energy--”
“It’s not because I’m drunk.”
The game is over. Frank is looking at her with a particularly focused expression that steals the air from her lungs. He leans forward, in her space, stopping just short of her lips. “If you think,” he rasps, and now it’s Karen’s turn to flush at his proximity, “for a second that I would come here just to sleep with you like it’s not something I’ve thought about constantly for two years, like I would just ruin this for one night--along with you and your fucking stubbornness and your smile and how you look in those fucking--...skirts--...” he takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes briefly, and then snaps them open to give her a loaded look, “--then you’re fuckin’ crazy, Karen.”
And then he sits back, and looks away.
She’s sure she looks like a complete idiot, but Karen can’t wipe the shock off her face. After a few moments where it feels like her heart literally stops beating, it reanimates with a pounding she can feel between her legs. Her throat is suddenly too dry, and she swallows hard. Her mind races to get them back on solid footing, but her mouth has other ideas. “So you’ve thought about us having sex?” is the first astonished thing to escape her lips.
“No,” Frank sighs patiently, but like she’s deliberately being obtuse. It’s such a funny, cute little sound that she’s never heard from him before, and it’s doing nothing for the desire that’s coursing through her. “I think about us in every way. Having sex, sure. But watchin’ tv together. Gettin’ a dog. Goin’ grocery shopping. Shit, just gettin’ up and having coffee in the morning. Just...I just think about us.”
It’s such a momentous confession that Karen feels inadequate to handle. Ever since she pleaded with him in the hospital, begging for him to leave the fight behind for her, she has filed away her feelings. After such a staunch dismissal of her feelings, she was sure he wasn’t interested in her other than as an informant and maybe, just sometimes, a friend. Now with his (albeit drunk)  confession, she knows otherwise. She still doesn’t know what self-sacrificing, self-deprecating bullshit caused him to turn her down before, but that’s a discussion for another time. Right now, she wants to drag him towards her and kiss him senseless. She wants to smack him for waiting so long to say something. She wants to cry with relief. She wants to make him feel validated and loved. She wants to prove to the world that Frank Castle is a good man who has been dealt a shitty hand, even if she has to scream it from theEmpire State Building. “Frank,” she chokes out, “you should have said.”
He tenses, looking at her wearily. “Am I too late?”
She doesn’t answer with words. She’s too busy closing the gap between him and burying her face in his neck. He smells familiar, like sandalwood and vanilla, reminding her of a different day in her apartment. She’d hugged him for much longer than appropriate and he hadn’t pulled away. She thought maybe it had been a sorry and thank you all at once. And then he’d left again, and it had nearly broken her in two. “Never,” she vows into his skin, painting a promise with her lips.
She hears his ragged exhale, and then he’s drawing her up towards him. His kiss is soft, just a brush of lips against hers before he presses another to her cheek, her forehead, her chin. When he returns once more to capture her lips, Karen lets her hands wander the wide expanse of his chest, lets herself revel in the firmness of his body against her. Touching him like this is such a foreign feeling, but like she’s finally found the missing piece to a long started puzzle. His hands are just as eager, running along her spine and then resting on her hips before his strong fingers sink into her hair, the others pressing firmly on her lower back so that he can grind up against her. Karen gasps and Frank takes advantage of her parted lips, deepening the kiss, his tongue curling against her teeth. As Karen loses herself in the feeling of his heat and hands and kisses, she daydreams about what could happen next. She could slide off his lap to kneel between his legs. She could take the very strong evidence of his arousal and pepper it with kisses until he begs her to take him in her mouth. She could get him just close enough, and then crawl up the hard line of his body to take him in every way possible. She could make him believe that he’s been worth waiting for.
Instead, she pushed lightly on his chest until he pulls away with what she can only call a pout. He looks the definition of dishevelled with his soft curls askew and pupils blown wide. Her chest heaves, and she bites back a small noise of disappointment when his hips cease their wonderful friction against hers. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re drunk,” she reminds him unsteadily.  
Frank lets his head fall back against the couch. His hands tighten on her waist briefly, reminding her of their precarious position--as if she could forget. She hasn’t been so turned on in eons. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I know.”
“We should stop.”
His head lifts, eyes meeting hers, hopeful. “For now?”
Karen smiles, allowing one more brief kiss. It takes every bit of self-control in her to keep it chaste. “Until you’re sober. Then we’ll talk. But we can check one thing off your list, if you like.”
His mind struggles to switch gears. “Which one?”
Karen kisses his nose before clamoring off the couch (and his lap) on wobbly legs. “I’m going to preset the coffee machine for the morning. Now, which side of the bed do you sleep on?”
When he gives her a tentative, wonderful, bashful smile, Karen has to force herself to walk into the kitchen. Frank Castle has never been so dangerous as he is now, she thinks, sitting on that couch with mussed hair and swollen lips. Every instinct begs for her to return to his lap and continue what they started, but she measures the coffee out and stays strong. They can finish tomorrow, but they have things to talk about.
Over coffee. She smiles and sets the timer.
76 notes · View notes
loverdrew · 4 years
Text
You Found Me (1) | J.M
Tumblr media
Summary: John B and Sarah Cameron are lost in the Bajamas, the pogues are having a hard time living life as normal, the Outer Banks have never been so quiet. But someone new comes into town looking for some answers, and a new life that she never imagined.
Warnings: none (?), some angst
I stepped off the docks onto the slightly sandy roads. Many people in all attire from tourist beach shirts to working class uniforms filled the exit of the ferry. All I had to my name was a map of the Outer Banks, a backpack and about 50$. Many fishermen lined the streets leading to town, so I stopped by one of them to ask for directions. He was an older man in his 50’s, white and grey facial hair wearing overalls and fishing boots, carrying what looked to be a heavy crate of sea life.
“Hi excuse me- sir!” I waved him down, and he gladly set down his crate.
“What can I do for you miss?”
“I’m-I’m so sorry I’m new here and I was just wondering if you could point me to a place where I could get a quick bite to eat? Preferably some place cheap?” I laughed, trying not to give away too much information.
“Oh yea just head down this road here, make a right and head down by the bay with all of the boats parked, a nice shack right there owned by a family with a daughter about your age! Nice people, good food.” He smiled kindly.
“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!” I was ready to walk off, but he laid a soft hand on my forearm.
“My name is Joe if you ever need anything, I’m always down here by the dock.”
“My name is Y/N, nice to meet you Joe.” I smiled, and began the short walk to the restaurant.
The Outer Banks sun hit differently than any sun we ever had where I came from. It was even more abrasive, and felt like it was instantly giving me a sunburn. I guess that’s on me for not bringing any sun screen even though I knew I’d be needing it. But a tan is always well needed, right?
I walked a ways away passing by big mansion sized houses, all the same color with nicely groomed front laws. The water sitting perfectly in their backyards. I was jealous, seeing as that’s always been a dream of mine, to live by the sea, or at least have a pool in my backyard. Back home, that was a luxury even we couldn’t afford, and wasn’t ever truly needed. These people just had the whole ocean and they didn’t even know how truly lucky they are.
As I passed by the majority of the houses I spotted the medium sized shack Joe had told me to go to. It seemed like a hot spot, where tourists and workers go and it seemed like the hustle and bustle part of the town. I saw a dark skinned girl around my age with big curly hair serving others with a smile on her face. Must be their daughter. I tucked my map into my backpack and walked in looking for a place to sit. I was about to look up when I felt a cold liquid go down the front of my shirt, one of my only shirts. I stumbled back, pulling the cloth away from my body as I felt it run down my leg. 
“Oh my god, sorry there stranger.” A guy with blonde hair wearing a stripped button down shirt stands in front of me. He had what seemed to be a posse behind him consisting of 2 other guys, looking seemingly wealthy. He was quick to grab some napkins from a nearby table and try to dab my shirt. The other two dudes scoffed at him, acting as if helping a girl was funny.
“Look it-it’s fine, with this heat it’ll dry fast trust me.” 
“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it didn’t.” The taller guy behind him wearing a polo smirked, eyeing me up and down. I instantly placed my hands over my chest.
“Okay Rafe, Topper, all of you guys leave her alone.” The curly haired girl stood next to me placing a kind hand on my shoulder. I sunk into her side, looking at the ground.
“Whatever Kiara, the only Kook who’s a killjoy.” The boy I assumed was ‘Rafe’ responded. All the boys walked away but not before Topper could send me an apologetic look. I turned towards Kiara, thanking her, still dabbing my wet shirt.
“No problem, Rafe and his friends give trouble wherever they go, Kooks think they run the island. Here, sit down!” She pointed to the bar, right in front of the cooking area. She set down a menu in front of me, and poured me a glass of water. I didn’t even know how thirsty I was until I drank the whole thing.
“Long day or something?” She laughed.
“You could say that, and by the way, what’s a Kook?” I questioned.
“You’re not from here aren’t you?” I shook my head, pulling out my map and waving it to prove her point. “See here, in the Outer Banks, there’s two different groups of people, the pogues and kooks. Kooks are exactly like Rafe and his crew, boys and girls that come from money, go to private schools, vacation in Bora Bora and drive fancy cars. Pogues are from the other side of the island, come from middle to lower class homes, dressed in hand-me-downs, working minimum waged jobs to even eat. It’s not fair, but that’s the truth of our dynamic here.” She continues to buss tables and clean dishes while she’s talking to me.
“So if you don’t mind me asking, which side are you on?” She shakes her head.
“See that’s a complication question I get asked all the time. I live here in Figure 8, which technically makes me a kook. But I never fit in, with any of them, so I made some friends of my own, they’re pogues. They’re like my family, I do everything with them.” She beamed when she talked about them. The way she talked about them, the way she described them were all the things I ever dreamed of having when it came to friends and family. But it seemed like that was something I was never going to have. 
“Which one would I be?” I joked, searching through the menu.
“Between the way you interacted with the kooks, and the way you’re interacting with me, definitely a pogue.” She smiled at me. “Pick anything you want, on the house.”
“Really? Thank you Kiara, I mean it.” 
I ended up ordering a cheese burger with everything on it and a side of seasoned fries and a soda with it. My body was craving food and energy, I needed all I could get since I didn’t know when my next meal would be. Kiara was great company while I ate, telling me more about her friends, school and work life, even little things about her family. She tried to pry into me by asking the same types of questions, but I knew I couldn’t tell her. It would make everything so obvious. I didn’t come here for a vacation, or make new friends, but to piece parts of a story together. My story. I had to be the one to find out everything, or else it wouldn’t feel like mine anymore.
She continued on with the stories of her friends, but one name stuck out, that made me choke on the last piece of the burger. John B Routledge.
“Whoa you okay there?” She patted my back.
“Yea, yea totally fine just, ate too fast.” I took a big sip of my soda, trying to calm my drying mouth. My hands wobbled, break becoming shaky. “Uhm, so tell me more about John B.”
“It makes me cry thinking about him and Sarah missing...” She took a deep breath, taking her time to feel comfortable in sharing the story. I would be lying if I said I didn’t hear about it, but everyone heard about it. The story was all over national news, but the more information I could find out, the better, even more so from a close friend. I like Kiara, she seems like a good person, but I need to know more about him, it was crucial.
“I’m really, really sorry about your friend, I could never, ever image what that’s like to lose someone that way.” I placed my hand on hers, a sign of comfort.
“It’s been a struggle, for all of us. It’s been almost 2 months and they haven’t found any thing of theirs. Not even the boat, which is crazy, like, how does a friggin’ boat go missing!” I could tell it was getting her worked up, so I tried to steer the conversation away from that day. In her mind, it was still fresh.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it anymore.” She wiped her eyes quickly and got out from behind the table, seeing I was done eating.
“Let me take it for you.” I placed the plate in her hand and watched her wash it. “So, where are you headed after this?”
“Oh uhm, I’m looking for Sun St. I-I have a map but, I mean-” I struggled even turning the map in the right direction. She laughed at me, taking the map from my hands and chucking it in the nearby trash can.
“With me, you’ll never need that again. I have friends that live on that street, that’s where the pogues are. I can go with you, let me finish up a table and we can go together.”
After finishing up at the restaurant Kiara and I walked together towards the other side of the island. We made jokes, told more light hearted stories and discovered more about each other. I found out she and I were more alike that I would’ve ever thought. It made this place feel more like a home than a place I was running to. 
We eventually made it to the street, walking past the several houses that looked nothing like the houses back on Figure 8. Many of the lawns were unkept, broken doors and chipping paint were the distinctive factors of each house. It was more quiet, the sound of ocean waves filling up the open space. The leaves are trees rustling, quietly falling onto the pavement. 
“Which house are you looking for?” She asked.
“Oh uh-” before I could answer, a blonde boy in a grey tank top and a dark skinned boy wearing a flannel and hat appeared before us. I let out a huge breath thanks to them.
“Kie! You made a new friend?” The blonde spoke, smiling down at me. His hair was messy, a slight cut on his lip, but he was still the most handsome guy I have ever seen. He had bright blue eyes but I could still see a hint of darkness behind them, his smile was genuine but I could tell was slightly forced. He had a back story, this one was bound to be interesting.
“Yes, but not for you two to play with. She’s new, and she’s nice so don’t ruin her.” She played around, bumping me with her shoulder.
“I’m Y/N, you guys must be Pope and JJ, I’ve heard about you guys practically since I got here. It’s nice to put a face to a description.”
“So what did she say about me?” The blonde smirked at me. I stepped in front of him with my hands on the backpack straps, looking him dead in those beautiful eyes. 
“Mmmmmmh, the bad boy who loves to start fights, flirt, and drink beer until the sun goes down-” I sniffed him, confirming that he did smell of alcohol. “Yup, you are JJ.” He laughed, looking me up and down, his eyes stopping at my lips. I stared at him for a few seconds more, feeling my lips go dry before I pulled back and cleared my throat, looking towards the other guy.
“And you’re the friendly, incredibly smart, but also kind of awkward Pope.” He looked taken back. “Her words not mine I swear.” 
They all laughed and started walking towards the last house on the street. It seemed familiar to all of them, almost as if they all lived there even though they have their own homes. There was a big tree in the back that had toppled over onto the lawn, the back screen door was open, and the porch creaked right as a foot fell upon it. These details didn’t bring back specific memories, but it brought back a feeling of nostalgia as I walked in. There were still pictures on the walls of John B and his dad, even a few of his mom. The 3 walked in and headed straight towards the kitchen, plopping onto the counters and opening a few cold ones. 
I had stayed near the front door looking at all the photos. I touched one gently with my hand. John B was so little, only a few years old in these photos where he was seen learning how to swim, surf, and some in this very living room. They both look so alike, almost carbon copies of each other. Looking at them felt familiar, even though I don’t remember a single thing. I was so young, I had only been in here a few times before I was never to be brought in again. I already felt like I knew John B, even if we never remembered knowing each other.
“Hey Y/N!” Pope yelled, I jumped back putting my hand back down. “Want one? We’re taking them outside!” 
“Uh, yea thank you! Just give me a minute!” I began putting my backpack down, when a certain snarky flirty boy appeared behind me. I could sense he was looking at me even before I stepped foot into the house, casting a shiver down my back.
“I saw you looking at the photos of John B.” He said lowly, sipping his beer.
“Y-yea, Kiara told me what happened to him and Sarah, I’m really sorry JJ, I know he was like your brother.” He smiled sadly at me.
“He’s coming back, we’ve never given up hope.” 
“I never would either, I would travel across the ocean for someone who meant that much to me, even they didn’t know it themselves.” I looked back at John B’s smiling baby face photos, making me crack a smile too.
“So what’s your story hm? Kiara just said you stumbled off a ferry into her family’s restaurant, what are you the little mermaid or something?” We both laughed, him leaning back onto the couch awaiting my answer.
“No, nothing like that. I’m just me.”
“So what are you here for?”
“That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”
“Well then I can’t wait to find out, Y/N.”
He stepped closer to me, rubbing my forearm as he stared down at me. I could feel his breath hit my forehead. He said my name with such ease, running down smooth like good liquor. My heart was pumping out of my chest in ways I had never felt before. There was something about JJ that made all of these actions feel normal and comfortable, but I was here for a purpose. I never thought I could make friends here, let alone flirt with the island bad boy. Maybe this was a plus, but it’s only my first day. Things were going to be different here this time.
126 notes · View notes
mayraki · 4 years
Text
“A mermaid’s tale” (6)
jj x reader
Tumblr media
rudypankows’ gif!
summary: you managed to keep your secret safe. until a boy gets in danger and you have to save his life.
PART 5
MASTERLIST
SERIES MASTERLIST
“Seriously?” Kie asked to Pope when he won at the cards game.
“What?” He asked confused but at the same time proudly for winning.
“You totally cheated!” She said and you watched how Pope’s face expression changed to being offended. You let out a little laugh and he turned to you.
“Y/n! You think I cheated?” He asked and you shrugged your shoulders with a little smile, playing innocent.
You got distracted by your phone making a little noise and you got it out from your back pocket, looking at the full moon picture that was on the screen. You sighed and then locked the phone.
“What’s wrong?” JJ asked silently next to you and you shook your head.
“Nothing. I have to go.” You got up from the couch and headed to the front door, but stopped once you felt a slightly tingly feeling on your nose making you sneeze, but you jumped since the glasses of water that were on the counter exploded. You stumbled back to not get wet and watched with surprise at the water all over the floor.
“What the fuck was that?!” John B asked looking at his all wet clothes.
JJ took the opportunity when everyone got focused on the water and the sudden explosion, to walk towards you. “Y/n?”
“There’s something you should know about me.” You said grabbing his hand and walking outside. “All of this on it’s own it’s pretty weird, I know. But there’s more weird shit. When the fool moon comes out I-”
“What? You turn into a werewolf or something?” He said jokingly but when you didn’t say anything right away, his expression changed to a serious one. “Do you?”
“I don’t, sort of... weird things happen to me when the full moon is out. That’s why I can’t hand out with you guys some nights. I look straight at it, I can’t control myself.”
“You get drunk with the full moon?” He said.
“Weird way to put it, but yes.”
“So that explosion was because there’s a full moon tonight?” You nodded.
“The thing is... the full moon is not out yet, and it’s already a mess, my powers went all crazy, I should go home because I don’t know what could happen when the moon is out.” You started to walk away but JJ gently grabbed your arm.
“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” He said and you quickly nodded.
“Yeah, I’ve been dealing this for a long time. I got this.” You gave him a little smile, but he still wasn’t fully convinced.
As soon as you walked into your room, you closed your window and the curtain, making sure no light was coming inside your bedroom.
“Y/n, sweetheart! Can you come here for a second?” Your mom called you from the kitchen.
“Everything is ready.” You said to yourself while looking around. You had a feeling that this night was not going to be a normal full moon.
~
You let your body relax on the bed once you finished dinner with your parents. You watched the hour on your phone and calculated that the full moon had already been out for almost half an hour.
You closed your eyes trying to think of something to do, because sleeping was not on your mind, when you heard a noise coming from your window. You ignored it, thinking it was the tree that was next to it hitting it, but when you heard it more than three times, you got suspicious.
Your hand was making it impossible for your to see the sky, as you walked closer to your window. As soon as you moved the curtain, you furrowed your eyebrow when you noticed the boy that was on the other side.
“JJ! What are you doing here?” You asked once your window was opened.
“I brought snacks!” He said in a whisper. You let out a little smile and helped JJ go into your room. “I wasn’t going to let you spend this beautiful night alone.” He said putting the bags of food he had on the floor. “Nice room, by the way.”
“If my parents find you here, they’re going to kill you.” You said and JJ just shrugged his shoulders.
“I’ve heard that before.”
You opened your mouth in surprised and then playfully punched his arm, but a little laugh came out of your mouth.
“Did something else explode?” He asked after offering you some of the chips he bought.
You sat down on your bed next to him and shook your head. “No, fortunately. I tried to keep myself under control.”
“Y/n!” You heard your mom closed to your room so in the minute of panicking you pushed JJ to the other side of your bed where he couldn’t be seen from the door. She quickly opened the door and looked around your room. “Is everyone alright?” She asked once she saw you on your bed with your eyes widen out in panic.
“Yeah.” You nodded quickly. “Just, getting ready for bed.”
Your mom nodded not fully convinced and walked towards the chair on your desk to leave the clean laundry.
“Good night, then.” She said before closing the door.
“Ouch!” JJ said silently on the floor and you reached over to see him.
“Sorry, I panicked.”
“Yeah, no shit, dude!” He went back to the bed and then a little laugh came out of your mouth, playing the moment back in your head. “Oooh, you think is funny, do you?”
You nodded. “Kinda.” Without hesitation he pushed your body and it fell to the side of the bed, making you feel a slight pain on the side of your arm. JJ bursts into laughter and you sat down on the floor to lock eyes with him.
“Asshole!” You said and JJ just kept laughing.
“You were right, it was funny!” He said and you punched him in the side of his arm once you sat down in your bed.
“Dickhead.” You said softly.
“That’s what you get for scaring me the other day.”
“You’re never going to let that go?”
“Now that I watched you fall from your bed, I will.” He said proudly and you shook your head, but a little smile came out of your mouth.
“Well, now I have to go to the bathroom to clean my hands. Those chips are greasy as fuck.” You said getting up from your bed and waking towards the door inside your room.
“Wait, is that your bathroom?” You nodded confused at his question. “You have a bathroom in your room?” He got up once you opened the door of the tiny bathroom. “That’s awesome dude!”
“I’ve never seen someone get to excited for a bathroom.” You said confused but with a little smile for how cute JJ looked. You grabbed toilet paper and started to rub it around your hands, trying to make your fingers clean again. “Fuck, it won’t come off. I hate having my fingers like this.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda disgusting.” He said and then opened the water from the sink. You turned to him but the water went crazy once you did, making your entire chest wet.
“Great...” you said sarcastically.
You let your body fall into the bed once the tail appeared. You sighed looking at it and JJ let his body lean back on the side of the door, while looking at the giant tail on the room.
“How did you managed to keep a secret all these years, I have no idea.” He said and you shook your head.
“You and me, JJ.” You let your arm stretched over your tail but when you closed your fist to dry it off, it started to burn so bad, the water in the sink started to make smoke with the bottle of water you had on your side table.
You quickly opened your fist and looked around to see the smoke disappear.
“That was weird.” JJ said while looking at your hand.
“I had a feeling this full moon was not going to be normal, my powers are out of control.” You let your back fall on the bed and sighed after closing your eyes. You felt JJ sitting down next to you and your eyes quickly opened. “I can’t dry off.”
“Then we just wait.” JJ said and you turned your head to him, who had a little smile on his face and that made you feel better. The memory of him and you at John B’s house appeared in your mind and you turned away, feeling your cheeks get hotter. Having all of this mess in your head brushed away the fact that you and JJ almost kissed yesterday. “What are you thinking about?” He asked and you realized his body was now closer to yours, he was lying down next to you and you felt his arm touching yours.
“That I wished I was in the ocean right now.” You quickly lied and JJ just gave you a little nod before looking away to the ceiling.
“Must be pretty good to be able to swim as much as you want, not needing to breathe.”
“I don’t know If you really want this.” You let out a little laugh and JJ looked at you.
“Why not?”
“You would have to give up surfing.” You said quickly knowing that would be the main reason he couldn’t do it. And you were right. He didn’t answer, he just nodded and went back to looking at the ceiling.
Silence surrounded the room and you were getting lost in your mind, remembering the time at John B’s house. That made you asked yourself: why was JJ here?
Was he just being nice? He’s always been. But coming to your house, bringing snacks, sneaking into your room risking himself being caught by your parents, all of that because he didn’t want you to be alone?
You felt your legs coming back and you smiled when the tail was gone. “Finally.” You sat down on the bed and JJ did the same. “Thank you for keeping me company, JJ.” You said softly and he shook his head.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” You turned your head to him and he locked eyes with you. He had a little smile on his face and you couldn’t help but look at it. His lips looked soft and you wanted to see if it was true.
You looked at his eyes to lock eyes with him, but he was just staring at your lips like he wanted them. A sudden wave of courage took over your body and got closer to him, feeling his breathing mix with your yours, your hand went to his cheek to gently grab it, but when you touched it, it started to burn and you took your hand away from his face.
“Ouch.” He said softly after touching his cheek.
“I’m sorry.” You got up from your bed and turned around, face palming yourself on the inside for the ruined moment. “You should leave, it’s getting pretty late. I don’t want you to get into trouble for me.” You said still looking the other way.
You heard JJ getting up from your bed and walk over to the window. “Goodnight, Y/n.” He said softly before going through your window.
You stayed there with your mind full of thoughts and your heart going full speed. Why did your hand do that? Your fist wasn’t closed.
What was happening to you? You always wanted to be alone, you met JJ, and suddenly, you want him around and wanted to kiss him. You were glad it didn’t happen, having to deal with feelings was not the best for you right now. But deep down, you were annoyed at your powers for being out of control.
“Fuck you full moon.” You said softly and went back to your bed to go to sleep, but the thoughts you had on your mind were making it impossible.
***
PART 7
taglist;
@ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @hopebaker @floretsoleil @rudyypankow @lolitstiana @obx-writings @nicolettalauren @obxmxybxnk @k-k0129 @g0thc0uture @chasefreakinstokes @no-pogue-on-pogue-macking @hoodcal96 @cutiecolbsss @lovelymaybankk @sweetlysilent
184 notes · View notes
smeraldos · 4 years
Text
Cheers
Tumblr media
Summary: In a time of shoulder pads and tight deadlines, no one gives you the time of day. Good thing silver linings exist, like your annoyingly perceptive co-worker.
retro office!AU
Characters: Taehyung x Reader
Word count: 1K+
Notes: ‘70s slang: jiving = kidding, stone cold fox = a person who's beyond attractive Computer Space: space combat arcade video game Shakespeare refs: Viola disguises herself as a young man (Cesario) in Twelfth Night...basically if you’ve watched She’s The Man, you get the gist.
“All the world’s a stage,/And all the men and women merely players...” - As You Like It
Tumblr media
"How's our employee of the month?" 
Without looking up, you know Taehyung has stopped by, leaning against your cubicle like usual. He's the only one who calls you that. To everyone else, the best is Jeongguk: choice analyst, Wharton wonder-whiz, second to none. 
You’re just "a team player." Sweet talk for lackey. You do the work no one else wants to do, but this evening, your boss caved and assigned you the report he'd normally give Jeongguk. The bad thing: he'd informed you on a Friday night, so you still haven't gone out for dinner.
Taehyung dangles a Kit Kat in front of your screen.
You dismiss it with a swat, making it drop on your keyboard with a clack. Now the debt your client owes is 1343400000000 bucks.
Stellar.
"Shoot," Taehyung says, rushing over the second you bury your face into your palms. "Sorry, I--" 
His apology dies when you uncover your face, laughing. 
"What are you sorry for," you ask lightly, gesturing to your screen. "Look at those zeroes. It's like we've won the fricking lotto."
Hesitantly, Taehyung takes a glance. His handsome face -- yes, you admit he's a stone cold fox (although the hottest thing you’ve seen of late was your monitor burning up) -- is devoid of humor.
"Oh, come on," you insist. "I can fix this in a jiffy. Why don't you ask me that question? The one we always joke about."
Instead, Taehyung offers you a look soft with concern. “What’s wrong?” He asks.
"Work, obviously.” You lay your head on the desk, too tired to open up your heart like Pandora's box. “My life. You not asking the right question."
"Fine. You want me to ask you how it feels to win a million?”
“Feels like a scam, thank you."
Taehyung sighs, claiming Jeongguk’s seat next to you. "You can't keep doing this, _______. Take a break."
"Tell that to Jeongguk."
"He isn't here."
"That's funny, I didn’t notice," you say, and it’s cruel, but you don’t care. You’re sick of being in Jeongguk’s shadow. "You should get going, too. Wouldn't want to be left behind with the bottom feeder."
Swiftly, you sit up, correcting the debt and letting the formulas do the trick. When you reach over to click on another sheet, you realize your mouse isn't there. Or anywhere under your desk, for that matter.
"Taehyung," you bite out, "stop jiving. Give me back my mouse."
"You're not a bottom feeder."
"Thanks. Now give it here." You pin him with a look that leaves no room for leeway, holding out your hand expectantly.
He places his on top. "I'm being serious."
"So am I." 
"Listen,” he says, “you're not Jeongguk."
"Clearly,” you quip. “Life would be a lot easier if I were."
Again, Taehyung sighs, visibly exasperated. "Jeongguk this, Jeongguk that. You’ve gotta stop putting him on some pedestal and beating yourself up because you can’t be like him. You’re ruining your own worth, you know.”
"Like I have any to begin with,” you scoff. “No one thinks, Oh, _______, now there’s a woman I respect. No one. Shelley is the only other woman in the office and she's been at this gig for years. She's always giving me flack. I know she's angling for a promotion that should have happened a long time ago and everything's a competition, but I can't survive being me. I just can't." Outside your window, diners and disco clubs dazzle the night, washed out by the glare of your office. The stupid fluorescence is too strong, imposing a reflection of your cubicle onto the city.
"I know it’s not much," Taehyung starts, giving your hand a brief squeeze, "but if it's respect you want, you already have it. Let me give you my two cents, too?"
“Sure."
"Don't play their game. If you stick with Jeongguk’s level when it was meant to hold you back, you won't win." “So you're saying I'll lose?” There's an edge to your voice. Taehyung, of all people, should know the last thing you need is a friend shooting your hopes down.
"Think about what their game is based on in the first place. A system where men and women have equal value or one where women would always mean less?"
"That's why I'm fighting," you counter. "I have to prove them wrong."
"It's hard to prove anything when they're set on keeping you down."
"But I can try."
"Aren't you doing that already? And how did that turn out?" "I can't believe you," you seethe, ignoring the tears pricking your eyes. "I’ve worked way too hard for you to reduce it to nothing, you--" "I know,” he cuts in, gentle. “I know. You've worked your tail off, and no one deserves more credit than you. But if they won't admit that, if they see nothing, what's the point of playing their game?"
You don't want to know. All this time, you'd thought the best way to be seen was to beat the men at their own work, and that meant besting Jeongguk, who almost all your colleagues seem to worship. You'd adopted a tone as brisk as you walked, ditched your collar dresses for crisp pantsuits (the stiffer the shoulder pads, the better), and timed your work so you'd always finish before Jeongguk. Lately, your efforts seemed to bear fruit: you were invited to meetings and then there was the report your boss assigned. But having a foot in the door meant little when you had to act like a man for it. They still ushered you to the back, anyway, and no one asked for your opinion, let alone remembered your name or what you did. They just didn't care. And that hurt more than sticks and stones ever will.
"Nothing, alright?" You tell Taehyung at last, wiping your tears bitterly. "I get it now. All the world's a stage and I played the fool."
"Not the fool," he disagrees, taking your mouse out of Jeongguk’s drawer and plugging it back into your computer, "Cesario. And now you get to be Viola again."
Trust Taehyung to know you're referring to Shakespeare. You smile, shaking your head, and he pulls you up into a hug. 
"Welcome back, _______," he says. "Let’s celebrate with a round of Computer Space? It’s on me."
You laugh into his shoulder. “You’re such a sore loser, Kim.”
"Bogus. I wasn't playing seriously last time."
"We’ll see about that.”
72 notes · View notes
chrysalizzm · 3 years
Text
i uh. realized people follow me now because of uh. you’re human tonight on ao3 asdjgfs
i have content!! behind the scenes content as promised. i do outlines for my fics as a general rule of thumb just because i personally can’t write things to a satisfying finish if i don’t Do That, and so - here are my chapter/plot outlines for you’re human tonight ^^ (i have no idea if this is interesting content or not i thought i’d put it out there because i think outlines are kinda fun hhhh)
chap 1 fundy
subtitle: an inkling
fundy makes an iron golem gone wrong, dream makes it go boom
chap 2 purpled
subtitle: uh oh social interaction
purpled shelters a fugitive, gets his house explosion-proofed as thanks
this is probably gonna be the only chapter with a funny title hh oh well
update: it’s not and i’m pleased with myself for branching out with my dry humor
chap 3 sapnap
subtitle: dust to dust
sapnap’s dying via wither effect, and he knows respawn’s around the corner but goddamn if it doesn’t hurt til then. dream skids in around the nether fortress corner, drops all his weapons cradles sapnap’s head in his hands, has always taken death much harder than anyone sapnap’s ever met. at the last few seconds, when death creeps up like a shroud, dream starts to hum to him hoarsely, pressing his forehead to sapnap’s, and in the final moments sapnap doesn’t hurt at all. the last thing he hears is dream whimpering. he visits dream’s bunker the next day, knocks on the door over and over, but there’s no sign of life there. sapnap shrugs, bites his lip out of guilt for forcing dream to sit there watching him die (if temporarily), and moves on.
the chapter that introduces dream’s primary ability of soothing hurts. put a lot of emphasis on the fact that sapnap ached up until the moment dream started humming, because for dream to do that is pretty frivolous considering once sapnap died he’d respawn and the hurt would just disappear but dream wanted sapnap to have a peaceful last few seconds. emphasize how abnormal it is that withering stops hurting. 
chap 4 ponk
subtitle: beaches dry of sugarcane
dream visits ponk after george burns down the first tree. when ponk arrives to the second tree to move in, he realized dream made the tree flourish, grow healthier and bigger. 
chap 5 sam
subtitle: fuck this shit i’m out (edit: the official subtitle is “oh god oh fuck”, i changed it last-minute)
dream picks sam’s brain for manhunt strategies while the latter is mining for redstone. sam stumbles upon a spawner and reels back, trips, nearly misses the moment dream sweeps him behind him and his eyes flash beneath the mask and when sam gets back up, dazed, there’s nothing but the splay of cobwebs all over the walls. 
chap 6 punz
subtitle: lines drawn
in an unrelated skirmish, punz drives his sword up to the hilt in dream’s chest, relying on respawn for dream to not feel any pain and for punz to get paid. dream doesn’t die. this is understandably alarming. 
can we get some funnies in chap? just a few laughs?? a lil funny for mr luke punz man?
can we get some panicky dry humor for real tho because punz strikes me as someone who copes with morbid humor and dream spluttering up blood is def a situation that punz would not know how to deal with
chap 7 wilbur
subtitle: so about that date
wilbur makes platonic moves on dream while dream fake texts his fiance under the table. wilbur also accidentally vents to dream about his little brother tommy and how afraid he is that tommy will get himself hurt for how reckless he is. dream siphons some of his anxiety from him, smiles as they depart from one another. wilbur notes that dream is shaking when they leave. 
chap 8 skeppy
subtitle: get wrecked noob
dream walks skeppy through some pvp. when skeppy demands a rematch w tommy and gets a lil stage fright kinda sorta thing, dream siphons his anxiety and his nerves and goes full soccer mom with bad and skeppy loses 5-2 but like!! he won!! against tommyinnit!! HH
is there any mental image nearly as powerful as dream wastaken, the soccer mom
chap 9 jack
subtitle: mandatory volunteering
after tommy goes on another one of his destructive rampages lmao, dream enlists jack, newest-comer, to help him rebuild stuff bc underclassmen have to do whatever upperclassmen tell them to do thems just the rules. after rebuilding a statue near the community house, dream pats it fondly, and when tommy sneaks back to set in on fire for shits and giggles, he finds that it’s fuckin fireproofed AGAIN
rebuild efforts, i promised monuments rebuilt so thats what theyre gonna fuckin Get
chap 10 antfrost
subtitle: twist the knife
ant on what ends up being an unpublicized manhunt: dream stops the manhunt because he’s triggered a raid and by the time the hunters get there, alarmed by the screaming and the fire and dream’s unresponsiveness, the villagers are all dead and there are raider corpses everywhere and dream is lying near the bell on his side, whimpering. (what the hunters don’t know - dream tried to fight off the raid but was overwhelmed and witnessed the village get slaughtered, he took the pain of the villagers that weren’t dead but were dying.)
segment: There’s a reason they do the manhunts, and it’s not just for them to horse around and try to kill one another for a few days. Antfrost is the newcomer but he’s always been good at reading people and from the outset he knew that Dream was someone filled to the brim with the restlessness that characterizes humans, that never-settling wanderlust, and his brain works too fast for the rest of his body sometimes, and he just needs an outlet. It’s part of why he eggs Tommy on in their little war games, why he holds onto those discs even though he doesn’t need them, why he gets that delighted look on his face when someone tells him that Tommy’s griefed them or stolen from them or otherwise ruined their morning. Antfrost thinks the only times he’s ever really seen Dream silent, Dream waiting, Dream unmoving, are when Dream is 
chap 11 karl
subtitle: head in the shallows
karl, sapnap, george, and dream have a sleepover after mcc 11. karl, nearest to dream, wakes up when dream starts tossing and turning from a nightmare. when he tries to shake dream awake, dream’s eyes fly open and he slams his fist into the wall behind him and the earth, the literal earth, the entire slab of it, shudders like an earthquake. sapnap and george sleep like the dead, so it’s just karl and dream staring at one another. finally karl asks, concerned, “do you want some tea or water or anything?”
chap 12 hbomb
subtitle: a maid’s burden
“i want to dress up as a maid for fundy,” says hbomb with false bravado. fundy’s fiance levels a very impassive look at him for an awkward minute or two and just when hbomb thinks he’s misread dream and fundy’s relationship dream says “i’ll get you a wig” and the entire chapter is just dream idly twisting the fabric of reality to get hbomb the items he needs to put the outfit together
pranks, i promised pranks, theyre gonna get pranks
chap 13 alyssa
subtitle: message in a bottle (edit: official subtitle is “ship in a bottle”)
alyssa’s leaving, at least temporarily. 
alyssa tells dream it’s getting dangerous on his server, doesn’t relish the expression that brings to his face, but he holds her hands and nods and bids her safe journey. when alyssa returns, running for something (later we’ll learn she had heard that dream was bad, that he might be dying), she finds that her house is completely inaccessible by everyone save her, placed in complete stasis by someone. 
start of the chapters leading up to festival arc. build unresolved tension in this one. 
chap 14 niki
subtitle: life doesn’t discriminate
wilbur and tommy are relentless, they waste no time; niki is willing to wait for it. 
the night before the duel, she goes to dream and holds a sword to his throat and demands he call it off, even though she knows it’ll mean little because of respawn, tells him she won’t stop hunting him down until he gives up l’manberg. dream smiles a little sadly and pats her hand and her fright, her rage, it simmers back down, and the anger that had swarmed her and made dream out to be the devil dies down until it’s just her friend, who was playing along with tommy til it got serious and he got cocky, who’s just as in over his head as she is, and maybe niki’s soft but she likes that about herself, that she’s always the first to forgive. niki is looking at the healing cut on dream’s neck, uncovered by any bandages, when dream shoots tommy, a clean shot that causes no suffering.
a long chapter, probably. i think at some point in this i want to mention niki’s respect for dream for apologizing during the first pet war, for not letting things get any bigger until fundy came back. some parallels can be drawn here - that dream let the fire die down in the initial stages of the pet war, that dream won’t let go of the l’manberg war now, and it occurs to niki that she doesn’t know dream nearly as well as she thinks she does if she expected him to act exactly the way he did during the pet war. she’s got what she’s wanted - dream’s remorse, proof of dream’s humanity - even though it’s not in the form niki wanted it. 
chap 15 eret
subtitle: crown of thorns
the king in name only consults with the true leader. 
they’re both upset about pogtopia’s exile, eret arguably more so because they think their early betrayal of l’manberg somehow butterfly-effected into the current dumpster fire, and as they talk eret works themself into a full panic attack reflecting on things that were, things that could’ve been - and the tide washes out all of a sudden, and eret’s left with the same looming hollowness they’d been feeling before, no dregs of the panic, they’ve never had a panic attack that left them feeling normal after - but dream is now wheezing like he’s about to die and eret immediately walks him through the panic attack, levelheaded even as they’re confused out of their mind. 
chap 16 quackity
subtitle: water to blood
quackity is a snake in the grass. 
quackity at schlatt’s side during the few weeks of his presidency. he knows schlatt from before, has been his friend, so he knows when his friend is acting off. the cynical, straight-faced humor is still there, his completely bland delivery and brazen showmanship, but it’s twisted to the left somehow, to make it so that those qualities that make up his friend have rotted, hurt people. quackity eventually goes to dream after schlatt first overdoses with a lot of questions, maybe even to confess that his allegiance has begun to shift because he can’t go to pogtopia and he can’t go to schlatt - and dream just gives him a long, sad look before lightly patting quackity’s shoulder and says “i can’t guarantee anything - just that you’ll be safe” and shooing him off and as quackity heads back to manberg he realises all the hostile mobs are avoiding him like the fucking plague. 
it’s big q!!!! fattest ass in the cabinet!!!!! pog!!!
fun fact this chapter’s subtitle was almost “chekhov’s gun” until november fucking 16th of 2020
chap 17 tommy
subtitle: most disputes die and no one shoots
tommy learns how a legacy dies.
a compendium of tommy watching the madness consume wilbur. it needs to be emphasized in this chapter that wilbur becomes an entirely different person when they’re ejected from manberg, that he becomes obsessed with the legacy he’s created and watching it crumble is what twists him; when dream gives tommy his crossbow, tommy, out of desperation and a need to have an older sibling again, asks what’s wrong with wilbur; dream’s face hardens and he asks tommy to take dream to wilbur. it’s a terse meeting, the only one they have before techno and before wilbur completely loses it and demands the tnt; wilbur says a lot of things tommy doesn’t understand (it’s complex mythological jargon hinting at dream’s status as a god but could be misconstrued to refer to dream’s status as simply the world owner) and at one point wilbur sneers, “are you trying to play god, dream?” and dream lurches forward and grabs wilbur by the wrist, and there’s a completely silent moment where tommy feels the air suck out of his lungs and there’s an off buzzing in his ears and he fancies he hears something that sounds, just a bit, like dream, whispering desperately wilbur wilbur wilbur it’s me it’s me listen listen listen then a shrieking, acrid wave of no and tommy reels back and when he looks up dream has staggered back, his hand to his mouth, blood dripping from somewhere beneath his mask, sounding like he’s gagging or maybe he’s sobbing, as wilbur shrieks in a voice that is entirely not his “get out get out if i can’t have l’manberg...” and tommy understands, finally, as dream sprints out. that’s not wilbur.
a distinction needs to be made perfectly clear in this chapter, as with schlatt’s chapter: it’s not them. they’ve been twisted out of control by something bigger than them, something that wants to toy with the young god running an oasis of peace for his people. it doesn’t need to be outright said in this fic; in another we can delve into the madness and who did it and why. for now, just make it clear it’s not explicitly anyone’s fault.
chap 18 techno
subtitle: colosseum
dream had to let techno in first, you know. 
techno and dream have interacted often - the duel, the championships, they’re friends more than acquaintances now. but techno was called in by someone wearing his brother’s face that he honestly doesn’t recognize from his voice and when he arrives at spawn, before tommy fetches him, he sees dream sitting cross legged waiting for him and they talk about the situation, dream giving techno a quick brief. when tommy comes, crying “techno, this way, this way to pogtopia”, and crossbow bolts are being fired at techno, dream gives him a lil wave goodbye (or what techno thinks is a lil wave goodbye but what actually turns out to be putting a swiftness effect on him).
“that’s not my brother, dream,” says techno, and dream’s mouth wobbles and he says, hoarse, “i know.”
techno Suspects, but only knows that dream has world-manipulating powers and thus standard minor god powers. he doesn’t let dream know he suspects. 
chap 19 bad
subtitle: run devil run
bad trusts dream, perhaps against his better judgement. 
dream comes to visit bad and skeppy on neutral grounds in the interim leading up to the festival that everyone on the server is side-eyeing and side-stepping. bad considers his friend and the owner of the world as he gives dream an impromptu tour through the escape route he and skeppy have dug out, wonders with a little reproach how dream could let things get to this point, then, soft, gentle as always, acknowledges that dream is only human kindly. when he says that, though, dream’s face crumples, as though those words hurt him more than any criticism bad’s given him in the time he’s known him, as though bad had driven a blade into his heart, and bad doesn’t understand but he lets dream run away from that. when a small flock of creepers explode over the tunnel the night before the festival and bad grumbles that he has to fix it, he learns dream left him with a fortified escape tunnel.
a/n: i’m sure the irony isn’t lost on you.
chap 20 tubbo
subtitle: cadmean victory
what say the sacrificial lamb?
tubbo is coming to terms with the fact that he might not make it out of office in one piece and it’s not his first time respawning but the older members of the server always, always did their best to shield the younger ones from death. he runs into dream by complete coincidence while he’s avoiding pogtopia (mostly wilbur) and manberg (mostly schlatt), caught between two strangers wearing his friends’ faces. he looks at dream, who looks back at him impassively, and tubbo starts to cry, because it finally hits him that even with his death and respawn nothing will be fixed, nothing can change, the poison’s run too deep into the veins of dream’s beautiful little world and now nothing can be right anymore and it feels like he’s shattering into tiny, aching shards - and then dream kneels before him, takes his hands, presses his forehead to them, sighs like his heart’s breaking, and tubbo feels a small calm thread back into him as dream stands abruptly, jittery. dream, with hands that shake, grips tubbo’s shoulder, hovers for a second, then his head jerks up and he bolts into the forest, clambering up a tree with admirable ease and disappearing away into the leaves as schlatt suddenly emerges from the bushes nearby with a joyous, plastic “hey! tubbo!”
chap 21 george
subtitle: lantern burns low
a moment in the night; george is visited by a specter. 
dream comes, pale, and asks george if there is anything wrong, is everything okay with you? takes george’s caught-off-guard face in his hands and says george george george, are you - and george catches a glimpse of dream’s powers (is he safe safe does he hurt no but fear but anxiety there are dregs hush now quiet now he is safe all quiet quiet quiet he’s safe) and he says, stricken even as the constant thrum of nervous energy he’d kept with him fades out, “dream what was that,” and dream presses his hands to his mask where his eyes are and says, despairingly, “they don’t get to have you too,” and staggers back out. 
george is the first person dream overtly “comes out” to. this is also why george doesn’t see dream til the festival. 
chap 22 schlatt
subtitle: the empty throne
dream visits schlatt in his office. 
schlatt, possessed by madness, has no idea what he’s saying but it feels right, it’s exactly right, everything is in his hands, and when dream approaches, his hands facing up, is he there is he there yes yes yes tainted polluted this is twisted this is madness madness madness dream reels back, shaking, and schlatt leans in and leers, not even knowing what he’s saying, “you can’t even fix it, young god,” and relishes the way all the color drains from dream’s face.
=)
chap 23 dream (edit: this monster ended up being split into three for pacing purposes and also if i left it together it was gonna be. h. 14K WORDS. also the drama of a cliffhanger at what most people thought was going to be the last chapter was too good to pass up don’t @ me
subtitle: do you feel like a young god?
running, running, running again
finale!! dream takes everyone’s old hurts into himself, takes the madness from schlatt and wilbur, promptly passes the hell out because no one should be doing that, wakes up, gets the shit hugged out of him, and explains a little, and gets told that he’s loved over and over. 
i uh! take questions! i like talking about this story, there’s a lot i still want to show, and even apart from that i just really love mcyt haha
12 notes · View notes
poptod · 4 years
Text
Who The Stars Belong To (Joe Mazzello x Reader)
Tumblr media
Description: You’re an angel. Congratulations! Now you’re a fallen angel and you crash land through the roof of a building and right into a man’s apartment. 
Prompt: Innocent Notes: I don’t usually do fics with real people. I wrote this one a very long time ago and never finished it, but it’s been a bit since I’ve posted (I’m working on something) and this was the best of my unfinished fics :)  I mixed a LOT of religions into this. I hope I don’t offend anyone - I myself am not highly religious, but some of my beliefs are in here. Gender neutral. Word Count: 8.7k
I am a storm. I am an oncoming battle, the thunders of a thousand wars, of a million bloodshed plains. I am the breeze of summer and the wisps of winter frost. I am a god beholden to you but nothing to your universe. And in the dead of night, I am your savior.
All you knew was life in the heavens. Being God’s messenger had its perks and all that, like getting to know a lot of the higher archangels, but you would never know what the earth held. Stories were your staple, and other than God’s word, it was what you existed on.
Before you knew it you were hurtling down to earth a hundred miles an hour, watching your home in the stars disappear from view as your eyes became human. The light of God faded away, the guidance disappeared, and you could feel your halo burn into the sky, dissipating into the darkness. Though panic pulsed through you, fresh blood appearing through once empty veins, your expression was calm. As you pounded an imprint through the clouds as you fell through them your wings began to burn, and you became a falling star, a child’s wish to never be granted.
Once your back hit the hardness of ground, you blacked out.
+
Drearily you opened your eyes, feeling for the first time something you knew to be pain. It floated all throughout your body, caressing you gently and holding you in a grip so unfamiliar. Your throat burned, eyes tired, and your back ached. Shoulders tense and knees stiff you sat up, letting your vision fully develop.
White walls, firm and rigid in their position, surrounded you. To your right was a glass wall, letting you see the massive buildings outside. They seemed to stretch to the sky, clouds drifting lazily by. Gulping you grasped at the sheets around you, clenching with sore fingers at the roughness they had. To your left was a closed door and an open door, one leading to something that just had to be what you’d been told was a bathroom, and the other one with jackets hanging off it.
You tried standing up, feeling bile fill your mouth at the feeling. Was that normal? No matter - you stood, watching as the world began to spin.
That’s funny, you thought to yourself, before promptly blacking out with a nice, thick thud on the floor.
Upon waking up again, the light above you was dimmer than before, and looking to your right, night encompassed the sky. Blinking slowly you turned your head back to the ceiling, trying to get yourself to at least sit up. You were back in bed, you noticed, with white and blue sheets and blankets once more surrounding you. Grasping at the sheets you pulled yourself up, pulling your legs closer to you from their straight position.
From outside the closed door to your left came noise, a banging of pots and a curse. You raised your eyebrows, having never heard them before, but knowing them nonetheless. It was required information, as an angel. Which you guessed you were banned from being for a little while.
What you might’ve done wrong filled your head, but no matter how far back you went you couldn’t think of a thing. You’d done everything asked of you. Every single thing, even if you thought it to be morally wrong, even if you wondered why you had been chosen for the job, you did it. No questions. No hesitation.
Watching yourself in the mirror across from the bed, you tilted your head curiously to the left. You weren’t supposed to look like that. You were supposed to be… angelic. Strong. A storm, with the power of thunder and the will of hail. That was your form. Not this, with its’ flimsy hair, odd eyes, and dull skin.
Another curse from the other side of the door. You turned, watching as the handle jiggled. For a moment you remained unbothered, before very quickly realizing if this was a menacing force you didn’t have your angelic powers. Not to your knowledge in the least, and testing them out wasn’t really an option. If you used them for anything but official use then they would be taken away.
The door opened, and a man holding a plate came in, a concentrated look on his face, auburn hair falling over his face. He looked the least menacing thing you’d ever seen, and your shoulders relaxed. As the door shut behind him he looked up, smiling awkwardly as he walked forward, setting the plate on the small table beside the bed. You looked at him expectantly, still confused in all essence of the word.
He seemed just as confused, glancing to the side, unable to keep your eye for more than two seconds.
“You’re, uh. You should eat,” he finally said, gesturing with his head towards the plate on the bedside table.
You didn’t need to eat, right? Whatever eating really was it looked awful. Well, you knew what eating was. Sustenance to keep humans going, meant to distract them so they didn’t reach their full potential. Too much time spent doing stuff other than getting food, or getting means for food, would’ve been disastrous.
You must’ve been too quiet for too long as he kept going.
“I made pasta. I’m not great with food, but it’s not awful, I promise,” he chuckled, shifting his weight in his anxiousness. You kept staring. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you could tell me what happened to you?”
“What?” You asked, further confused.
“You know,” he said, clearly excited that you could talk, “why you fell through my roof.”
“What?”
He now looked exasperated that you only knew one word.
“You fell through my roof. I tried to take you to a hospital but you begged me not to. Said you’d, uh, ‘put the fear of god into me,’ if I did. Neat trick you did with your eyes, too,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed to be more relaxed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“… details?” You asked further. He paused.
He’d just been home after a late night trip to the store after realizing he was completely out of Windex when you arrived. First was a whistling sound, and he looked up, wondering curiously what it could be. His first thought was that New York was under attack, but quickly proven wrong, you crashed through the roof of his apartment, going through the one empty floor above him, landing in his living room.
Staring at your crumpled form, surrounded by broken wood, dust, and concrete, his mouth fell open, dropping the two bottles of Windex in his hand. The most astonishing part was the fact that you were moving. That, and the giant cuts running down your back, bleeding openly and dripping all over his carpet. The one other surprising thing was the fact that you were entirely naked.
Stumbling only for a moment, he dropped to your side, helping you stand.
“Holy shit, okay, uh,” he breathed out, “what happened to you?”
“Arrghhhh,” you slurred meaninglessly.
“Never mind. Let’s get to a hospital, fast,” he said, and before he could even ask his brain to make the movement for a step forward, your hand was grasping the collar of his shirt, bundling the material in a tight fist, pulling him towards your face.
“I will tear your body apart till nothing remains but your soul and you will remember why you fear God,” you said, and in the moment he heard your voice in double, watching as your eyes rolled up into your head, the red veins glowing against stark white.
“Okay,” he replied immediately, almost dropping you.
He omitted many of these details when reporting this to you, not wanting you to believe him insane.
“You crashed through my roof, and I tried to take you to the hospital but you, uh, obviously said no, and after that you blacked out, so I put you to bed. Hoped you would wake up,” was what he said.
“Of course I did,” you said, miffed, turning to face your reflection once again. It looked… wrong. Where were your horns?
“Not… not of course. That fall tends to kill people,” he laughed nervously.
You swallowed, feeling your saliva burn down your throat. Pushing the sheets off of you you tried to stand once more, watching as the world began to swing into a dance once more. The man stood with a ‘woah there,’ holding his hand over your torso in case you fell. With lazy eyelids your head fell onto his shoulder, not quite fainting but halfway there.
“You’re pretty adamant about this whole standing thing, huh?” He said with a grunt, trying to help you stand on your own.
“I am stronger than the bones your king breaks,” you mumbled.
“I don’t - okay, you’re not hungry, so let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, heaving you across the room and into the bathroom.
The lights blared painfully against the mirror, reflecting directly into your eyes. You moaned, hiding your eyes behind eyelids and his shoulder. Behind you water rushed, falling into the silver and white tub. He sat you down on the toilet, making sure you would stay there, before leaving, promising he’d be right back.
You leaned against a nearby wall, eyelids drooping over burning eyes as you waited for him to return. The water continued rushing, filling the room in a warm haze. You watched as the mirror fogged.
With a creak the door opened, and he came through with a tight smile, putting a towel and a fresh set of clothes on the counter.
“I didn’t want to wash you or anything while you were out. Would’ve been a bit weird,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind him, sticking his hand in the water to test it after.
“Where’d I get these clothes?” You asked in a whisper, and he barely heard you over the water.
“Oh, uh, they’re mine. Yours were ruined.”
“I had clothes?”
“… Yes?”
“Lying is a sin punishable by an eternity of hellfire,” you muttered.
“Okay you didn’t have clothes. Happy? I was just trying to spare you the embarrassment,” he snapped, turning off the water. He glanced at you and in a second, his anger fell from him. “Let’s get you in.”
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling the shirt off your torso and throwing it into a corner of the bathroom. After that he tapped your hips, looking up at you expectantly. You cocked your head to the side, your brow furrowed.
“Lift,” he said, his face reddening with blood. Your nose twitched and, bracing yourself against the lid of the toilet, you lifted your hips. Off came two sets of pants, which confused you greatly.
“Why was I wearing two pants?” You asked, grasping his shoulders tightly as he made you stand, your legs failing you almost entirely.
“That was underwear,” he explained patiently, setting you gently in the warm water. You curled up, pressing your knees to your chest, feeling your rough skin brush against you uncomfortably. With bright eyes you stared up at him, watching him grab various bottles from the counter.
With a cup he poured water over your head, and a pleasant feeling washed over you as it ran down your back and over your eyes. He pressed two fingers to your forehead, tilting your head slightly so it wouldn’t fall into your eyes. He did this two more times, fully soaking your head before popping open a bottle. Out of it poured a white mixture, one he rubbed up against his hands before reaching for you.
You cringed backwards, baselessly fearing what it could’ve been. He paused, drawing backwards and explaining himself.
“It’s to wash your hair,” he said, and as you let him rub it into your scalp, you heard him whisper to himself, “what happened to you?”
You didn’t answer, assuming he didn’t really want an answer, and simply enjoying the pleasure his hands brought. As he dug deeper into your hair you keened upwards into it, letting your eyes close. He let his hands run the full length of your hair once, then twice, before rinsing his hands and pouring water over you to rinse the shampoo from you.
“Enjoying yourself?” He teased as he opened up another bottle. You waited as he turned the bottle upside down, pouring it now over your shoulders. From its cold temperature you shrunk, still letting him do what he thought he needed to do.
He rubbed the white soap into your skin, over your shoulders and neck, up into your cheeks. That was the most enjoyable part - letting him cup your jaw, one hand on either side as his thumbs rubbed your cheeks. Eventually he had to stop, gently washing your nose and forehead.
The silence clearly made him uncomfortable you noted as he washed the dirt off your arms. You, however, didn’t mind it in the slightest.
“Just one more,” he said, holding up the last bottle. You nodded.
This time, unlike the first time, he combed it through your hair. Relaxing into his touch you closed your eyes, once more leaning into him. You couldn’t trust him, not in any way, but…
“Feel better?”
You nodded.
The two of you tried to get your feet to work but they refused, and your wet body flopped uselessly into his arms.
“Sorry,” you said, noticing his own clothes getting soaked.
“It - it’s fine,” he stammered, his face growing hot and red. He held you up, grabbing the towel with one struggling hand and wrapping it around you. Half shivering you sat on the edge of the tub, watching as he leaned over you, draining the sudsy water away.
Eventually, all dried up and in fresh clothes that smelled very specifically of him, you sat on the bed eating the cold pasta he’d given you.
“I can warm it up you know,” he said, watching you eat by the bedside.
You shook your head, the food still hanging out of it. He shrugged, excusing himself for a moment, and coming back with a thin, silver block.
“What -“
“I thought you might want to watch a movie or something,” he said, setting it down and opening it.
Oh, you thought to yourself, marveling at the bright screen. I’ve heard of these computers.
Typing on the board he pulled up a website, clicking quickly on a movie and settling in beside you.
“If you don’t like it I can change it,” he said, allowing you your space on the bed.
White Christmas came up on the screen. The quality was grainy but colorful, the music wonderfully melodic. Music wasn’t a common thing in the heavens. That is to say, the music of the stars would hardly qualify as the music humans knew on earth.
As the movie came to a close he shut the laptop, sliding off the bed, the computer beneath his arm.
“Get some sleep,” he said, watching you shift downwards so your head lay on the pillows. You didn’t really need to sleep, you wanted to tell him. You never had, but for some reason you wanted to close your eyes anyway. As you did, the creak of the door signaled his leave. In the silence of night you wondered how long you’d be allowed to stay.
You didn’t wake again till the next day was halfway through. The man told you so, telling you it was 12, and with your confused face in return, he began to describe time.
“I really don’t understand why you don’t know this stuff. Are you sure we can’t go to a hospital?” He asked gingerly, his head tilted downwards but keeping your gaze.
“If you take me to a hospital -“
“You’ll turn me inside out. I know, yeah…” he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Listen, I’m having friends over tonight. I think it’d be best if you just stayed in here. It’s a bit hard to explain, but I think it’ll be safer, okay?”
Slowly you nodded, half understanding that all you needed to do was stay in the room you were in. You were patient. Millenia of listening to Gods’ slow voice allowed for that.
“They’re coming over in about an hour. This,” he grabbed your wrist, latching a clock around it, “will tell you when that is.”
Examining the silver band, the light above you reflected into the glass, making you shut your eyes tight.
“Don’t do that,” he grumbled, pulling your wrist away from its position.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
“It’s fine. You hungry?”
You shook your head, knowing that you didn’t need to eat. You really, really, really didn’t need to eat, but your stomach growled loudly, your eyes widening as you stared down at it.
“You have no idea how your body works, do you?”
You gulped. How could he ever had found out?
With a sigh he helped you stand, and with his arm around your waist and yours around his shoulders, you limped to the door, heading out into the hallway and the rest of what you presumed was his home. It was nicely lit, with mostly white walls and rather comfortable furniture. You sat on the couch, watching him intently as he prepared some sort of food for you again. He finished, setting the plate in front of you.
“You eat it with your hands,” he told you, already assuming you’d never seen a sandwich before. He went to leave, but you grasped his wrist tight, forcing him to face you. Jarred by your strength his mouth hung open and he gaped at you, confused and alarmed.
“Thank you,” you murmured, staring directly into his eyes.
“Uh… yeah. ‘Course,” he stammered, wriggling free from your lessened grasp. With wary eyes, darting to you in fear, he left the room. Nose twitching, you grabbed the sandwich with your hands, taking a massive bite.
By your last bite, you still hadn’t seen him, but the door had been knocking for several minutes. As time continued the knocking got louder, more furious, till voices came as well, demanding that the door be opened. Pounding footsteps came from the hallway, rushing through the living room till the man, auburn hair flying as he ran past ran straight into the door, ramming his chin against the wooden door.
“Fuck! Ah, sorry, give me a - uh,” he turned to you, still jiggling the door handle, “room?”
“There’s room,” you replied.
“No, go to the bedroom!”
“I can’t stand!”
“What’s going on behind there?” Came the voice behind the door.
“One second guys, just, uh,” he helped you to your feet, “getting dressed.”
“I don’t mind you being naked,” another voice said, drawing a belt of a laugh from the man behind the door.
“They’re… joking,” he mumbled to you, kicking the door open and setting you down on the bed. Though rushed, he tucked you in, fluffing the pillow and quickly turning out the light. Disgruntled, you fidgeted under the covers, keeping your eyes open as you listened to the voices outside.
“I heard two voices,” one of them said, not your man.
“You’re crazy,” the other said.
You buried your nose under the covers. They continued their conversation, talking about things you couldn’t understand, things you knew you would get if you just had your angelic powers back. They allowed you to understand the non-understandable.
“Do you usually eat naked?” One of the men asked, and in an instant you recalled your nearly all-the-way-eaten sandwich.
“No,” your man replied quickly. “That was from a while ago.”
“Someone’s sloppy.”
“Yeah, Jesus Christ, clean up after yourself!”
“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him next,” your man said with a laugh.
They resorted once more into language you couldn’t understand, a switch clicking in the room and then the sound of many voices emanating from the living room. Your chest felt restricted, and your stomach still empty, so you dug yourself deeper into the sheets, hoping the uneasy feeling would soon cease.
A few more minutes clutching your stomach and it did not. Perhaps something was wrong with you? You knew very little about the complexities of humans. Maybe you needed to eat more. So, on shaky legs, keeping your arms on the bed you stood, being mainly supported by your arms. Stumbling you made your way to the wall, walking beside it towards the door. He had said not to leave the room, but something felt wrong, so terribly wrong, that you were sure he wouldn’t mind. Your logic was so: he would, most likely, prefer to find you wobbling into the living room rather than to find you dead on the bed. Could you die? You weren’t sure, but chances weren’t a thing you were ready to take.
Walking through the short hallway you kept your hands pressed to the wall, coming up behind the couch that three men now sat on, a large screen on the wall turned on to some sort of entertainment.
Which one was him? None of them were facing you, and you didn’t know if humans all looked the same. Supposedly they didn’t, but to someone like yourself who wasn’t accustomed to their faces, maybe they would all look similar. You went by hair color. The man in the middle had golden hair - that wasn’t your man. The one on the left was taller, with brown hair. On the right was the auburn hair. You tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to look up at you, fear and surprise burning right into your skin through his eyes.
His shock brought the other two from their entrancement with the screen, turning to see you as well. For a moment, everything was silent. They stared at you, you stared right back.
“Give me a moment,” your man suddenly said, jumping over the back of the bed and all but dragging you back to the hall.
“I feel wrong,” you said before he could get angry. He furrowed his brow, confused, but listening. “My chest aches. I feel empty here,” you said, bunching up the shirt you wore and pointing to your stomach area.
He sighed, an exasperated sound, his head falling to your shoulder.
“You’re thirsty,” he finally told you, pulling you with a more gentle touch back into the kitchen and sitting you down on a barstool. He went to grab a glass from the cupboard.
“So, uh, going t’ introduce us?” The blond asked, his voice deep and strange.
“Uh, this is, um,” he tried to say, realizing as he made eye contact with you that neither of you knew each others’ names.
“Mal,” you answered for him. It wasn’t your full, true name, as giving your whole name would give them power over you. That was something you couldn’t find yourself ever doing.
The two men on the couch looked at each other then burst out laughing, making you tilt your head slightly to the left, confused.
“Joey, you could’ve just told us you had a one night stand thing going on, he can join us,” the blond laughed, slapping the taller man on the shoulder. You looked back at your man, supposedly ‘Joey,’ with wide, bewildered eyes.
“Okay first of all, not a one night stand,” he glanced at you, “he’s just a… sick friend.”
“He?” You asked.
“She?” He tried out, but it didn’t help. A silence stretched as both of, utterly perturbed, stared at each other.
“Should we go?” The tall man asked, pointing back at the blond and then himself.
“No, it - it’s fine,” Joey stumbled, handing you a glass of water. “Mal just needs sleep.”
You nodded along. Whatever was happening could be discussed later. He tilted the glass to your mouth, and you opened it, allowing the water to slip through.
“Make sure you’re not breathing when you drink,” he whispered in your ear, quickly jumping back to the couch between his friends. You did as told, almost choking on it but swallowing nonetheless. Feeling your back hurt you stretched, reaching your arms for the ceiling. A sudden burst of pain flooded through your spine, electrocuting your head and tingling through your fingertips.
You let out a strangled, quiet cry, holding your shoulders with your hands. Joey turned to you in a flash, looking at you over the edge of the couch.
“You okay?” He asked.
“Probably,” you answered, shrugging, and gesturing to the screen when he wouldn’t turn away from you. Hesitant, he turned back, watching the delightful characters running around.
Every now and then, over the next few hours they’d go back to the kitchen, grabbing brown bottles from the fridge and downing them rather quickly. You watched from your seat patiently.
“You want one?” The tall one asked, moving to hand you one.
“Uh, that’s probably not a good idea,” Joey stopped him before you could make up your mind, pulling the tall man back by his arm. The man just shrugged, smiling at you, and popping open his own bottle.
“How’d - how’d you two meet?” The blond asked, and by that point you realized that the drink must’ve been doing something to them. They swayed in their stance, their voices clogged and speech dumbed.
“He - she, uh, fell… on the subway. Helped him - her - uh, them, up,” Joey responded, swirling his drink.
“Wait, wait wait,” the tall one turned to you, leaning in close and examining you. You remained rigid. “Are you a guy or a girl?”
“I am the heavens personified. I don’t fall into binary categories that you assign to know the others genitalia.”
All three of them laughed at that. You, on the other hand, found little humor in it. By the end of the evening the three of them became so intoxicated on whatever was in those drinks that you had to convince them, very sloppily to stop, which in the end, they finally acquiesced.
They insisted you come sit with them on the couch, trying to pull you from your seat.
“I want to avoid walking,” you informed them curtly, trying to get them to stop.
“Alright-y then,” the blond said, suddenly lifting you out of your seat and carrying you, laughing and giggling with his friends as he sat you on his lap on the couch. Awkward and confused you shifted, getting comfortable with where you now were.
“Okay okay so - Mal insists on no more drinks, so umm… no drinking games,” Joey slurred, holding his fingers out and counting ‘no drinking games’ on one.
“Beer pong!” The tall one suggested. The blond knocked him on the head as Joey laughed.
“Drinking is literally the main thing in that game, Gwil,” the blond wheezed out. Ah, you thought, so the tall one is named Gwil.
“Uh, Mal knows like, nothing about being alive,” Joey started, and you couldn’t entirely disagree. “So something simple?”
“Truth… or dare,” Gwil suggested in a dramatic whisper, pointing to the blond as he said truth, and to Joey when he said dare.
“What are we, seven?” Joey asked, sticking his tongue out in disapproval.
“You said simple!”
Both Gwil and Joey continued arguing as the blond whispered in your ear, telling you the rules of the game, keeping his voice low to avoid being heard by the other two. You listened intently, leaning into him. In turn, he kept his hand around your waist, keeping you from sliding off.
“Alright, fine!” Joey finally conceded, throwing his hands up in the air. “Do you know how to play?” He asked, looking at you.
You nodded.
“Wow, I’m surprised,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“I just taught him,” said the blond.
“Her,” Gwil corrected.
“Both!” Joey added.
“Or neither,” Gwil and the blond said at the same time, and the three of them broke into childish laughter again.
As it died, Joey asked, “what were we talking about again?” which really only spurred the laughter on further.
The rest of the night proceeded in similar fashion, growing calmer as the drink went through their systems. You never did get to play that odd game.
“Stay the night, won’t you?” Joey asked them, but they refused, saying they got a hotel room in the city.
“Besides,” the blond added, “looks like you’ve got plenty of company.” Along with this he wiggled his eyebrows, winking. Gwil snorted, saying his good byes along with the blond and shutting the door.
“Joey -“
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, stumbling only slightly as he came over to you. Arm wrapped round your waist he helped you up, walking you through the hall, into the room, and into the bathroom to sit you on the toilet seat.
“I’m not dirty,” you stated, watching him rub his face with water running from the sink faucet.
“Should change your clothes anyway,” he said with a sigh, drying his hands and helping you out of his shirt. “Ah shit,” he mumbled, suddenly remembering you needed another pair of clothes to get into. He left the room to look for clothing, door wide open, as you sat half naked on the seat.
Curious as to what your back looked like, hoping desperately that maybe if you just looked you’d get your wings back, you stood shakily, grasping the counter to turn around and look at yourself in the mirror.
Down your back ran two massive tears, open and cracked with blood. Surprised, you reached to touch them, shrinking away from your hand when you did so.
“Jesus,” Joey breathed out, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. You turned quickly to him, wondering if you’d done something wrong. “They must’ve cracked open when you were with me and my friends.”
“What?”
“They looked a little more put together when I last saw ‘em,” he explained, turning your back to him to examine them further. “Not bleeding at least. God…”
His finger traced the outline of them, causing spikes of pain to run through you whenever he got too close.
“You’re sure about the hospital?” He asked.
“I will -“
“Yeah, okay,” he interrupted you, getting your point without your threat. For a few moments more you let him touch you, gently trying to see how bad it was. “I have bandages,” he said as he withdrew. You turned around expectantly.
He sighed, bending down and opening a door underneath the sink, pulling out a long, thin cloth, all rolled up. Slowly, aware of your careful watch, he wrapped the fabric around your chest, starting right beneath your arms and going down to the end of your ribs.
When he finished you grabbed his wrist, tugging him down to you.
“Thank you,” you said.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, slowly realizing that that was just how you thanked people.
In silence he undressed and dressed you, wondering to himself if you’d ever be able to dress yourself. Would he have to teach you? You, on the other hand, were thinking about his friends. They all felt oddly intimate.
He put you to bed after that, brushing the short hair out of your eyes, noting quietly to you that it had grown slightly longer.
“It sure grows fast,” he said, pulling the sheets over your bed. He made to leave, stopped by your grip on his wrist once more capturing him.
“Where do you sleep?” You asked quietly.
“On the couch.”
“Is that comfortable?”
“Yeah, I think it is,” he said with a shrug.
“Alright,” you murmured, releasing him and tucking yourself back into the blankets. He smiled, patting your shoulder and leaving the room.
Routine proceeded from that day on. You would wake up by afternoon, and he would force you to eat and drink, every so often leaving his home, but never telling you why. On those days, he’d usually come back with bags, and oftentimes would help you with bathing.
“You need to learn how to do this yourself,” he told you one day, rubbing soap into your cheeks and neck.
“I like when you do it,” you responded, making him choke on his breath.
“Whatever you want,” he responded, his words rushed out.
One morning when you awoke, he wasn’t there. First you called for him, as he usually noticed when you stirred, but you earned no response. You then stood, walking with a nice cane he’d gotten you a few days ago. ‘Just for now,’ he said, ‘’till you heal.’ Still, no sign at all of him, except a note taped to the door. You couldn’t read it, as all you could really read was Enochian. So you sat. And waited.
It wasn’t long till the sound of his key at the door came, turning the gears of the lock till it opened, revealing him and a man behind him.
“Mal, hey,” he said, opening the door to allow the man behind him in before closing and locking it. In a small motion you waved at him. “This is my friend, Rami. Say hi Rami.”
The man, Rami, glared at Joey (who you’d learned recently was actually named ‘Joe’) before approaching you with his hand outstretched.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, waiting for you to make a move. Hesitating only a second, you slapped his open hand.
From the kitchen Joe snorted, laughing at what you’d just done.
“What?” Looking up at Rami, he looked equally amused and confused.
“You’re supposed to shake his hand,” Joe explained, waking over and demonstrating the proper greeting movement with his friend. Slowly you nodded, shaking Rami’s hand, feeling the warm roughness of his palm.
“You may call me Mal,” you said, looking him in the eye. He chuckled, nodding.
“He’s flown in from L.A. to stay a few days. I don’t -“ he turned to Rami, “- did you get a hotel room?”
“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be a problem getting one if need be,” he said, setting his bags down near the door.
“I only have one bed, but I guess someone could share,” Joe said with a shrug, pulling two beer bottles out of the fridge and relaxing next to you, Rami on the other side of him as he turned on the television.
After a while of being rather annoyed by a plot you couldn’t understand, you nudged Joe, telling him so.
“Take this,” he said, handing you his laptop. “Go wild.”
You fiddled with it, grabbing your cane and walking back into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed you opened it on your lap, immediately coming face to face with a search tool. If Joe had only known what you would do, he would’ve never handed you the laptop, as this was most definitely one of the worst decisions in the world. Instead, he left you to your own chaotic devices, and the first thing you looked up was ‘do i need to eat?’, which lead to ‘how do human organs work,’ to ‘what are sex organs,’ and, one can guess where that led.
Eventually that led only deeper into the Internet, to what drugs were, into drug arrests, and every sinful thing put on the news, to odd songs about sex and drugs simultaneously, and movies about rockstars.
“Hey, you doin’ okay?” Joe asked, his hands on either side of the doorway, leaning into the room. Silently, you turned the computer around to a headline reading, ‘Florida Man bites off his brother’s penis after he walks in on his brother having sex with his cousin on his favorite Dragon Ball Z blanket.’
“Jesus Christ, I can’t leave you alone for two seconds,” he grumbled, shutting the laptop and tucking it under his arm.
“It’s been an hour,” you reminded him helpfully. He ignored you.
“Rami can’t find any affordable hotel rooms, he needs to stay here for the night. He’s got a room for tomorrow onwards,” he informed you, helping you up and back into the living room, setting his computer on the bar counter.
“I told him I can sleep on the couch but he won’t listen to me,” Rami said, tapping his fingers on the back of the couch, watching as you sat on a barstool.
“Absolutely not. I won’t stand for it,” Joe responded, flopping onto the couch to sit beside his friend.
“Then where’s your friend going to sleep?” He asked, gesturing to you.
“We’ll work it out. It’s late, you’ve got work to do in the morning,” Joe said, tugging Rami off the couch and pushing him to the bedroom.
“Right, of course Mom,” he grumbled as the door shut loudly behind him. You simply watched, stoic and silent, as Joe returned into the living room, hands on his hips.
Mumbling mostly to himself, he helped you over to the couch.
“Are we sleeping together?” You asked as he stood. Stammering, he attempted an answer.
“Uh - sort of I guess? I mean, you - you don’t have to, you’re always talking about how you don’t need sleep, but I still think you should, not necessarily with me, but I just mean you need to sleep, and I guess since there’s only the couch left you could sleep there and I’ll just… sleep on the floor?”
“Is the floor comfortable?” You asked.
“Um, not really?”
“Then sleep on the couch,” you said, pulling the back cushions out to make room for him.
“Uh….”
You patted the couch and, stumbling only a second, he sat beside you. Reaching behind him, you grabbed a pillow from off the edge of the cushions, setting it up for his head on the end of the couch. Gently, you made him lie down, wrapping him up in a blanket hung over the back. He stuttered something incoherent, watching and only protesting mildly as you stood, taking the short trip to the light to turn it off. Setting your cane down, you crawled in next to him, pressing your body against his in the tight space.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, his voice cracking as you put his arm around you for your own comfort, “where did you come from? Do you even remember?”
“I was an angel,” you answered honestly, fully believing that he’d take your word. What you didn’t expect was for him to hold back a laugh, looking down at you.
“Really?”
“I fell from heaven. My form changed. I’ve never been to earth before now.”
“Well that certainly explains a lot. If it was believable,” he muttered, shifting under the blankets you’d gotten to be more comfortable.
“It’s the truth. I am bound by ethereal powers to never lie so -“
“You could just as easily be a person lying,” he interrupted, now unwilling to meet your eye.
“Ask me a question about God, or the world... something you’ve always wondered,” you tried, hoping he’d ask something you knew about.
He waited, his head now facing fully away from you as he thought. Outside a storm grew, but the only thing you could think about was him.
“Which religion is right? Is it the Christians?”
“All of them are right. Every god or goddess to ever be told of exists. They congregate every now and then. I sit by Gods’ side during those meetings. The god Jewish, Muslim, and Christian people believe in, that is.”
“What happens when we die?”
“Whatever you think.”
“What?” He turned to you.
“If one believes they will become the clouds, they will become the clouds. If they believe nothing happens, they die. Their consciousness is wiped. There is a heaven, reincarnation, and a hell, but not much happens in hell.”
“Wait, what happens in hell then?”
“I haven’t been there often,” you said, recalling the last time God had a meeting with their son. “Lucifer is actually rather calm. It’s just… imagine if a bunch of criminals and people who thought they were awful were put into one area. There isn’t any torture or demons, just people who believed they were going to hell.”
“Okay, lots of questions about that -“ he laughed, “- so it’s basically Afterlife Australia?”
You shrugged. In honesty, you had no idea what Australia was, but he was probably right. You trusted him as far as you could.
“And if someone who was a good person, but just really hated themselves and thought they would go to hell, would they go to hell?”
“That’s what the angels Kiraman Katibin, Phanuel, Nakir, and Abathar Muzania are working together for,” you said, and in that moment you realized you probably shouldn’t be trusting this information to a human. Nonetheless, you continued. “They… judge, sort of. Like Ma’at and her 42 judges for Egyptian afterlife, for those that believe in that.”
“… interesting.”
He left it at that. You snuggled in closer, his breathing grew harsher, but the both of you fell into easy sleep. By morning, he awoke first, jostling you awake when he reached for a note on the table. Leaning over to look, your cheek resting on his shoulder, you asked what it said.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, his face warm. “Jus’ that he’s left already.”
“Oh.”
“God, I need to get off my ass,” he muttered under his breath to himself. He stood, stretching his hands to the sky, before releasing the tensions with a deep sigh. Plodding into the kitchen, he turned on the sink, pulling down another glass and drinking from it once it filled to overflow. You picked the cushions back up off the floor, putting them back into place.
Making his way back over to you, he collapsed back onto the couch, relaxing into the cushions.
“Really hoping you don’t kill me for saying this, but I’m half convinced you’re insane,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. The whole situation with you was clearly stressing him out - even you could tell.
“How may I settle these worries?”
“Prove it. But if you’re fallen, you probably don’t… have any powers, or whatever.”
“I have scars down my back from my wings,” you reminded him.
“It could just as easily be that you were tortured, badly, and to cope with it you’re imagining that you’re an angel. All this information you’re giving is just personal beliefs. Stuff you could look up on the internet.”
“I… don’t know if I have any power left,” you said quietly, and your heart began to ache, weighing heavily through your body. Your touch possibly had power - humans loved to touch. It was essential to their lives. Maybe, just maybe, your touch had power.
“You think of ways to get the truth. I’ll make breakfast,” he said, grunting as he stood and patting your knee.
You sat, the crackle of frying eggs in the background as you buried yourself in thoughts. Your wings and halo were gone, you knew that for absolute sure. The feeling of them leaving you, how it tore you from yourself, stretching and pulling till it finally ripped, burning as everything you knew evaporated away. What was left when all was taken from you? Even your eyes, the ones that allowed you to look upon Gods, that let you return home and fully see the truth, the heavens and all that you loved, they were gone too.
Your soul. You still had that, didn’t you?
Grabbing your cane from the fallen position it had taken on the floor, you came to stand behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned down the heat of the stove, turning around to face you, jumping back when he saw how close you were.
“I still have my soul. I’m… I’m not sure what I can do with it, but,” you looked up at him, eyes glittering a very suddenly bright blue, a change from your usual color, “can I try?”
“Af-after breakfast. Eat something first,” he stammered, grabbing plates from behind him, filling them with the eggs and toast, before setting it down on the table and sitting down. Your nose twitched once, but you sat down across from him, eating what he’d prepared, all the time wondering what would happen.
As the two of you finished he grabbed your plates, and from then on, essentially ignored you. Dodging you, not speaking to you, telling you to get more sleep, all of it you knew was more of an avoidance of the subject of your soul. In your weakened state, there was little you could do but let him force you to sleep.
So you slept. Into the next week, you slept. By the second day when you hadn’t woken up Joe began to worry, sitting at your bedside, making sure you were still breathing. Every evening his friend Rami would come over, asking where you were, and he would say you were sleeping.
“You should take them to a hospital,” he said, worry lacing his tone though he did not know you.
“I want to, but whenever I suggest it they pretty much make death threats.”
By the time you woke up, he was prepared to call the hospital, and Rami had already left, heading back to L.A.
“What are you doing,” you asked, monotone as you sat up, watching him about to dial the number on his phone.
“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, dropping his phone and rushing to hug you. “I thought you were dying!”
“I can sleep for extended periods of time. It’s to accommodate for my life span,” you informed him curtly, your arms plastered to your side as he squeezed you.
“That’s called a coma,” he spoke right into your ear, sighing as he released you, sitting beside you on the bed.
“Sounds like your problem.”
“It certainly feels like it. Why didn’t you warn me?”
“You were trying to get me to sleep, so I did.”
He glared at you, mentally noting to himself that you were petty in a very special way. Helping you out of the bed, cane forgotten, he kept you upright, leading you into the living room and onto the couch. From there he fed you, made sure you drank, and suggested a bath. You agreed.
Hoisting your arm around his shoulders, the two of you made your way slowly to the bathroom. There he did the usual; undressing you, filling the tub with warm water, and pushing up his sleeves to his elbows. Helping you into the tub, he sat on the edge, pouring shampoo onto his hands.
“You’re sure you’re okay with me doing this?” He asked, still unsure about the whole nudity you had.
“It seems to me you’re the only one bothered by it.”
“Wow, okay. Called out,” he said, chuckling to himself. “The tea is scorching.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said with a snort, still smiling to himself as he rubbing the shampoo into your scalp. You let yourself enjoy it, pushing into his touch with a blissed out expression.
“You should join me,” you mumbled as he pulled away. He halted, staring wide eyed at you.
“I should what?”
“Join me,” you repeated, watching carefully as a sudden smile grew on his face. He turned away, shaking his head, but still smiling in a dumbfounded way.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, ignoring your request to rinse his hands, “considering how little you know about human etiquette. Wouldn’t be too surprising if you never visited earth.” He mumbled his words, voicing his thoughts in an airy fashion.
“If you would just let me show you -“
“Mal,” he interrupted you, facing you with a sudden seriousness. “If souls are real, and if what you’re saying is real. Don’t you think it’d be dangerous? I don’t know what you’re planning, but using your soul has to be dangerous.”
“Might be. I need your trust,” you pleaded. “I will go to great lengths to get it.”
“Why?” He asked simply, tired of wondering quietly.
“Just for a moment, believe me,” you asked of him, and he nodded. “As an angel, we are built to never make our own decisions. God’s guidance is bright, and our halos blind us. Physically, we can trust no one but our God. When I fell, I… I was left alone. No longer blind, but able to make my own decisions, but in the way that I’d never done that before, I was still blind. Wh-What I’m trying to say is, I’m not built to trust anyone other than God. Joe, I trust you.”
Sometime in the middle of your speech he had stopped breathing, staring at you as unmoving as you usually were. Knowing his silence was filled with his thoughts and not his passiveness, you waited, watching for his movement.
“Okay,” he said. “Prove it.”
Moving slowly, you sat on the edge of the bathtub, naked as the day you fell from the sky. You reached for him, starting at his hand and moving up. Breathing unevenly, he kept his eye on your hand as it moved, up to his shoulder and up his neck, resting on his cheek. Pushing your other hand underneath his shirt, you came up to where his heart would rest. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest on his shoulder, pouring all the energy you could right into where your hand was.
In an instant you could feel his heart beat harshly through his skin, fast and powerful. Intaking a deep breath, you continued to try to intertwine your souls, or to at least let your own soul burn through his skin, enough to leave a mark. Anything to prove yourself.
As you withdrew he finally began to breathe again, taking deep breaths as you drew your hands back into your lap. Slowly he raised his shirt, having felt the intensity of what you’d just wrought, showing a soft golden glow emanating from his chest. His breathing started to pick up, growing faster as he realized you were telling the truth.
“I -“
“Don’t scream,” you said as his mouth opened wide.
“I wasn’t gonna scream,” he said, his voice choked and tight.
“… do you believe me now?” You asked softly, looking up at him earnestly.
“Don’t think I have a choice,” he murmured.
As his breathing slowed, an urge ran through you, one you allowed. Hesitantly, you moved closer, resting your forehead in the crook of his shoulder, closing your eyes and relaxing your muscles. He wrapped his arms gingerly around you, letting you lie still in his hold, running his touch down your spine. 
“You’re really an angel, then?” He whispered, a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to: yes.
“I was. I’m human now. I belong to you,” you mumbled against his skin, your lips warm from the heat radiating off the soft skin of his neck. 
“You belong to yourself, now. No one can take that away from you, especially not me.”
You remained silent, contemplating your words as you matched your slow breathing to his, your hand pressed against his chest.
“I want to belong to you.”
Moving from your position against his shoulder, you met his eye, close enough to feel his breath. He waited for you, patient as your gaze flickered from his lips and back up to his eyes.
“I need to be yours,” you murmured, leaning further in, a distance he met you in the middle for. 
It was a strange sensation, his lips moving against yours - alien and familiar all at once, and when he pulled you closer to him you could feel yourself melting. Your chest shuddered with the force of your emotion, one you might’ve identified as love, had you known the words’ meaning. 
I love you, he murmured against your lips, loathing to part from your warmth, but the desperate need to speak his mind overpowered his hate. You hummed when he kissed you again, cradling his jawline in your hand and rubbing your thumb over his cheek just as he’d done to you. 
And in every way you allowed yourself the comfort of belonging, just as he held tight the reverence you gave him. 
68 notes · View notes
Text
Jude & Ali
Jude: Hey
Jude: can I stay at yours tonight? I need a sec to think
Jude: I don’t know how I’m gonna tell mum & dad or anyone how badly I’ve fucked up
Ali: Of course you can
Ali: but should I expect 🚓/🚑/🚒 to follow closely behind?
Ali: not sure which ranks highest on the bad scale so give me a clue
Jude: it’s not like that, I’d take it over how it is but
Ali: Ah, that kind of fuck up
Ali: You can go to mine now, I’m not in yet but you have your key and god knows how many cats will keep you company whilst you think
Jude: bus ride’s 👍 for it & they’ve probably seen worse
Jude: you can’t really see owt yet to look at me & maybe there won’t be anything to see anyway
Jude: might be it’s a mistake, I did or read it wrong idk
Ali: Oh bus drivers are the masters of seeing and not saying a thing
Ali: Opposite of taxi drivers in that regard, which if you’re after quiet contemplation is welcomed
Ali: If you need a listening ear however
Ali: How many periods have you missed, love?
Jude: 2 but that don't have to mean
Jude: it can mean loads of things & tests can be wrong, right? I only did the one
Ali: False positives are rare but not totally impossible
Ali: You’re not on any medication that could interfere, UTIs, kidney or ovary issues can but again you’d know beforehand
Ali: Chemical and ectopic pregnancies, maybe
Ali: That leaves user error, sometimes when the urine evaporates it leaves a very faint line that can be confused for a positive on a test that shows 2 lines, was that the kind you did? The timing is important but it’s more likely you’d get no result or negative, as you know
Jude: NOT comforting rn nan!
Ali: No, probably not
Ali: I don’t think that kind of lie is comforting for very long if at all either but we can sit in it whilst it is
Jude: it's already not when I know you're right & that means so's this test
Ali: I’m sorry about that
Ali: what would be comforting right now then?
Jude: just tell me what to do
Ali: In the long run or in telling your mum and dad?
Jude: obviously you can't tell me what to do in the long run
Jude: I can't even think that far ahead when this doesn't feel real
Ali: it’s too big for you to get in, what, an hour, less
Ali: it won’t feel real for a while yet, that’s alright
Ali: You can keep this to yourself for as long as you need, I won’t tell anyone, or bring it up again if you don’t want to talk about it after this
Ali: There’s no way telling won’t be scary, and really hard
Ali: but it shows that you care, about them and what they think, the fact you are scared
Ali: and you know they love you
Ali: even if it’s as disorientating for them as it is for you right now, or even a fraction of that, they will come around to supporting you and being there for you
Jude: I can't avoid mum forever & I'd have to for her not to work it out
Jude: she's always sussed any secret I've tried to keep
Jude: it's scary that this happened to me when I'm so careful
Jude: Toby takes the piss about how paranoid I am
Jude: God, how am I gonna tell him?
Ali: It’s unfair
Ali: and rarely talked about how not foolproof contraceptive is, whatever the method
Ali: That’s at least easier, he knows what you’ve been up to
Ali: though I’m sure he’ll feel as baffled and duped as you do
Jude: we're not like Jac & Sav, he's gonna hate me for this
Ali: It’s a very new relationship
Ali: but if he doesn’t want to be with you, do you think he’ll at least support you, in whatever you choose?
Jude: Yeah
Jude: but he can't support me that much, I need mum & dad
Ali: Of course you do
Ali: and you can tell them, whenever you’re ready
Ali: there’s no words but the facts, that’s all you can say
Jude: idk how I'll get my head round this
Jude: I'm not ever gonna be ready to tell them I ruined everything like this
Jude: it's exactly what I said to Jac I wouldn't let happen
Ali: You can’t control these things to that degree
Ali: it was an accident, right?
Ali: nothing needs to be ruined, everything is salvageable
Jude: that's not gonna calm anyone down though
Ali: No
Ali: do you want the truth on how likely a calm response will be?
Ali: their immediate response, anyway, that’s hard
Jude: maybe I'll just get rid of the baby without telling them, Toby won't say anything & you could go with me
Ali: We could do that
Jude: I'll 🗨️ to him but then
Ali: Good idea, once you’ve done that, get back to me
Jude: Don’t worry, I know all about the different types & when they do it, I won’t leave it too long before I speak to him
Ali: Good stuff
Ali: The pills are considered preferable, I’ve been told
Jude: I wanna do it in person but even if I talk myself out of seeing him a few times before I go ahead with it we’ll still have time to get them & do it at yours
Ali: Of course, as long as you’re aware of how long you have, then you can take the time you do have to do it as well as you can, with the minimum amount of stress instead of the absolute max that comes with the blind panic
Jude: Thanks nan
Ali: No need to thank me
Jude: there is, for not having a go like everyone else would’ve if I’d told them
Ali: It seems you already feel bad enough
Ali: and it’s not my place to judge, not to mention I can’t see it would do any good, or not as much good as, hopefully,
helping you will
Jude: I’m not sure if I feel enough of anything but I just found out, I guess
Ali: Shock’s pretty standard, it’ll come
Jude: when?
Ali: that isn’t on the clock
Ali: the more you think on it
Jude: rude, I’d like to still be in shock when I have to talk about this again, if I had any say, like
Ali: good luck 😏
Jude: no stretch to say I've got 0 rn
Ali: You’ll be okay
Jude: will I?
Ali: Yes
Ali: I promise
Ali: Whatever you do and whatever happens, you’ll get through it
Jude: is crying on a bus stage 1 of getting through it or am I fucking this up already?
Ali: If you aren’t crying on a bus at least once in your life you aren’t really living
Ali: but seriously, that’s very much the normal response
Jude: good timing to have really lived before my life's over
Ali: Your life isn’t over
Jude: it might as well be cos it's not gonna go back to normal
Jude: whatever I do
Ali: you feel like that now, you won’t always
Jude: idk nan, that sounds super fake
Ali: I obviously did it one way, but I know people who did it the other
Ali: we’re all alright, pretty much
Jude: okay I'll choose to believe you're not just saying it to make me feel better
Ali: Obviously I would, that’s my job
Ali: but I also mean it so do believe me
Ali: is there anything you need that you won’t be able to find at mine?
Jude: what like the bravery to 🗨️ to my boyfriend & parents or?
Ali: I’m sure I’ve got some alcohol lying about
Ali: but not my recommendation so 🤫 on that or your mum will be really mad at me
Jude: I can't drink
Jude: that's literally the 1st thing they tell you not to
after 🚭
Ali: I was kidding, sweetheart
Ali: poorly timed, perhaps
Jude: YOU might be but I'm not NOT considering it as a 💡
Jude: I'm in the worst trouble so
Ali: you wouldn’t be the first
Jude: I don't mean that it's just
Jude: Toby's got the 1 track mind, why isn't he crying on a bus & having to break the news to me?
Jude: I don't wanna have to do this
Ali: You can’t worry about ruining his peace
Ali: of course you don’t wanna have to do this, but you still
have to, you got into it together, the minimal is getting out of it together too
Jude: I know
Ali: If he’s worth his salt, he’ll give you that and not too much grief, you can share in it
Jude: He is
Ali: Glad to hear it 😌
Jude: can I bring him over when I wanna do it? I don't know where else we'd hang out that I can even hear myself speak
Ali: Yeah, ‘course
Ali: I can make myself as scarce or present as you need/want
Ali: it might be… not nice but what you want, to just be you two, once you’ve got to grips of how it will feel and what will happen, which we can work out beforehand
Jude: you're not gonna be there?
Ali: It’s up to you
Ali: I just need you to tell your parents first if you can
Ali: I don’t think it’d be great for me to go behind their back, as it were
Ali: If you really can’t, I could talk to them for you, but it’ll be best coming from you
Jude: you're right, it's my mess
Jude: I'll do it
Ali: I’ll be on the phone if you need backup
Ali: again, I won’t just turn up with you straight away, but you know I will come if you need if it’s not going well
Jude: it's not gonna go well, but I can't blame them, it's not great news
Ali: yeah
Ali: but you know, worse than you can handle
Jude: Yeah
Ali: you’re doing great so far
Jude: very funny
Ali: I can do better than that if I’m trying, come on
Ali: you are, there’s no better you can do really, given the situation
Jude: I've not done anything but a test & that didn't even go the way I wanted
Jude: nobody is gonna give me a 🏆
Ali: no
Ali: but you can give yourself the 🤏 bit of a break, there’s not anything you can do on that bus right now, so take that time
Jude: but what I said about wanting a sec to think was total bollocks, I don’t, what’s gonna happen next is too scary to think about
Ali: it’s just because it’s unknown, it’ll be a lot less scary when you understand what’s going to happen
Jude: I can’t do it
Jude: it shouldn’t be me making this massive decision
Ali: you can, and you will
Jude: you’ve forgotten how long it took me to pick between school subjects & I’m only really bothered about one of them
Ali: I didn’t say it’d be easy
Ali: you’ll either do it or the 🕑 will decide for you
Jude: how long did it take you?
Ali: Honestly?
Ali: I just did it, I can’t say I gave it much thought
Ali: I just knew
Ali: but I didn’t think about anyone else, honestly, and I’m not going to say that’s right
Jude: I can’t stop thinking about mum & dad
Ali: That’s a good thing
Jude: but then how am I gonna know I’m doing what I want instead of just what I know they want?
Ali: Those two things might look or be the same, if they’re that intertwined
Ali: but when it comes down to it, if you don’t want to do something, you won’t be able to do it
Ali: no one is forcing you, that’s the important thing, even if your parents and other people have ideas, no one will be insisting you do anything, so what you do, will be something you can live with
Jude: you’ve made it sound way simpler than it is but okay
Ali: I don’t fancy making things sound or feel any more complicated for you
Ali: it’s a big decision, one of the biggest, I know
Jude: he’ll help me make it though, like you said & then I’ll talk to mum & dad
Jude: it’s a plan
Ali: It is
Jude: what do you reckon I should do?
Ali: I can’t tell you what to do, what would be best for you, only you can work that out
Jude: yeah but you must have an opinion still
Ali: I don’t think it’s helpful to give it though
Jude: I care what you think, it’s obviously gonna be helpful to hear
Jude: especially cos you have experience of this exact thing
Ali: It’s just, I’m trying to say whatever anyone thinks won’t matter, truly, when it comes down to it
Ali: so all it’d do would be placing expectation or needless guilt
Ali: you’ll do what you have to do and I’ll be there regardless, and I’m happy about that, whatever you end up doing, okay
Ali: that’s all that matters
Jude: okay, okay, don’t tell me
Jude: I love you too
1 note · View note
insidetheacademy · 4 years
Text
Say You Love Me || iii
Tumblr media
pairings: peter parker x fem!reader
summary: reader and peter went out and had fun times!
warnings: insecure reader? flUFFFS, explicit language (a bit)
gif credit: tomholandd
part i part ii part iii part iv part v
-
your back slides down on apartment door, your face were red. you were feeling happy but you also felt mad at Peter. it was a bit inconsiderate of him to just waltz back into your life as if nothing happened between the two of you but at the same time you couldn’t help but be happy that you got your best friend back.
you took out your phone from your bag to call MJ. ring... ring... ring... “hello?” MJ greets, you said “hey, i think i just made the biggest mistake of my life,” you stand up from your position to sit on a more comfortable spot. “what did you do, y/!?” MJ asked in a very concerned voice.
you explained everything to her, “i don’t think my input would be valid, honestly, but i do think that you should set some sort of boundaries between the two of you so the same thing wouldnt happened again,” MJ advices. to be fair, she was right, when you told her about how Peter rejected you, she called Peter a dickhead and she was angrier at it than you were.
what you need to do is set some boundaries. of course you want everything to be normal back but if it meant getting your heart break for the second time, is it even worth it?– you thanked MJ for the advice and ended the call.
you laid out on your couch just thinking about Peter. it’s not that you still like Peter. well, a bit. but he hasnt crossed your mind since today at that café. you were doing perfectly fine. but the thought of him suddenly liking you back is also a possibility.
ugh, look at me, you groaned to yourself. how pathetic could you be? you have everything that you ever wanted in this whole world. your own studio apartment thats filled with your art equipments and not to mention a bunch of your arts are still at the 3 months long exhibition. you ccouldn’t be more happy. you just dont get how you feel like you need someone to make you even happier?
the thought of not being so lonely sounds amazing but you weren’t sure you were ready for that commitment again.
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・'(*゚▽゚*)'・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・*
it was officially the day of the meet up. the “i’m getting back with my friend after i screwed everything up” meet up. you were kinda mad at yourself for promising to meet up with him. you were so nervous, you swore that your fingers are literally trembling from the fear of what’s going to happen.
you walked into the shower and try to give yourself some pep talks. practice some conversation stater or conversation fillers that you may or may not have. you wiped the fog from your mirror and take a good look at yourself. this is it, y/n, you can still cancel on him but if you do cancel on him, you’re going to look like a huge asshole, you took a deep breath and decided to put on your best face.
you picked out a leather jacket with a black top and pair it with some denim washed jeans. you put on some makeup because let’s be honest, you look kinda dead due to you not being able to sleep peacefully for the last few nights. it’s not a surprise on the reason why you couldn’t sleep. putting on a last touch your face, you put down your lipstick and look at yourself, not too bad, time to show Peter what he lost.
your phone rings without looking at the caller id, you picked it up, “hello?” you said, to which you then heard a familiar voice, “hey y/n! i’m waiting by the stairs of your apartment!” you were shocked that he still had your number. sure, six months wasn’t that long but it was long enough for you to forget some things about him– “oh! i’ll be right down there. just a sec, Pete.” you said.
you opened the front door of your apartment building to see him in his black and yellow jacket. “woah, someone’s looking cute as ever,” after you blushed at his comment, you suddenly reminded yourself that he was only messing around. you tried to not make it awkward by complimenting him too, “you don’t look half as bad as you used to, Parker” you smirked whilst looking up and down at him. he throws his hand in a “aw stop it you” gesture.
“what are we gonna do today, Pete?” you looked at his face, awaiting for his answer, “what? why me? you were the one who set this up!” he said in confusion, you laughed at him and said “nah, i’m just messing with you, Parker. we’re going to the art exhibition” you then jokingly added “so i can brag to you about how i’m doing much better in life than you will ever be,” he scoffed at you “psh, have you tried saving the planet from aliens?”
ah, yes, you remembered when you guys blipped from the world. it was a crazy experience, though it was pretty upsetting that we had lost one of the greatest superhero, Iron Man— you giggled at his remarked. once the two of you arrived at the exhibition, the both of you headed inside and straight to where your paintings are held.
you looked up brightly to your own paintings. stil couldn’t believe that a small girl like you could make it out here. you noticed Peter started taking up on the details too, especially the painting where’s theres a boy and girl who looks just like the two of you. he pointed at that one and asked, “what’s that painting about?”
it was a girl lying down on the boy’s lap while he’s feeding her grapes. it looks so elegant and you have to say it’s one of your best paintings. you loved it because it reminded the time when you went through a similar situation with him. just lazing around on the couch feeding each other snacks while reading books and listening to songs.
“well, they’re together which is obvious, i guess. lying on the couch with your significant other while doing something is such an intimate moment, in my opinion. you get to sit and talk about your day, your future and anything. i feel as if the world is small whenever i’m doing that,” you explained to Pete, you noticed that he looks at you throughout your explanation.
you grabbed his hand to lead you to the other paintings by other painters. you pointed at the scribblish one which you can’t quite describe what it was. it’s funny how even a scribblish painting could make it to an exquisite exhibition. “can you try explaining this one to me?” Peter jokingly asks, pointing to the painting that you had just pointed. you chuckled at him and said “yeah, it’s your brain whenever you’re trying to process something simple.” his smiled turned into a frown real quick earning a “hey!” from him.
you looked at Peter with a worried face and shook his arm, “i-is everything alright, y/n?” you looked down at your feet and shake your head, no, he was starting to get worried, “what’s wrong?! is everything okay?!” he asked, you looked up to his eyes and said “i’m hungry,” he once again rolls his eyes trying hard to not be mad at you, “god, you made me worried sick for a second there, y/n.” you snorted at him, poking fun of how his face looked.
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・'(*゚▽゚*)'・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・*
you two went to the nearest bagel shop as Peter was craving bagels eventhough you were the one who’s hungry. you ordered the classic bagel with cream cheese and Peter ordered the same too. the whole time you were queuing with him, he made you laughed. to your surprise, it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. it was going so well, you didnt want this moment to end.
Peter grabbed his and yours order while you were looking for a table to sit. you found a table right outside next to the window of the bagel bakery. he came right up at you and said “one cream cheese bagel and black coffee with three sugar for a sweetheart,” you melted at his words thinking that it was for you but it turns out he didnt finished his sentence just yet “and one cream cheese bagel and hot tea for y/n” if you had to roll your eyes one more time at is dumb jokes, you swear you werent gonna see the light of day again
“so, how’s Jane?” you addressed the elephant in the room. his smiled went into a frown as quick as sugar dissolves into a liquid. “she... she and i broke up a month after i... you know,” he said not wanting to bring up the topic of him rejecting you but needless to say, you were quite shocked. why didnt he messaged you after that happened to atleast confide in a friend.
you spoke “i’m so sorry, Pete. why didn’t you messaged me, though? i could’ve done everything that i could to cheer you up,” you immediately closed your mouth with both of your hands, regretting that you had said that. he’s gonna think you only care ahout yourself, “well i was going to but i figured that you didnt want to hear anything from me,” you sighed at his words and reassure him that you always want to hear from him whether it was good or bad. he smiled at your kind words
you sipped your tea and continued to make your conversations alive once again after you decided to ruin it by asking him a dumb question.
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・'(*゚▽゚*)'・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・*
it was now 6:30pm, you were parting your ways with Peter. he had to run off to buy a couple of things for Aunt May, you wanted to accompany him but he insisted that he can and constantly brings up about how Spider-Man can do it on his own. what a cheeky bastard.
you arrived home and settled down for a minute before opening your laptop to check your emails. you head to your fridge to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich. you had to admit eating bagels didnt exactly fill up your hunger but you weren’t feeling like eating a lot. you sat on your study desk and took out your laptop.
you typed in your email address and password, once you’ve signed in, this particular email caught your eyes, you clicked on it and read it.
“Dear y/n l/n,
We, from ArtSix company, would like to fly you over to Paris, France to work with us. We are a group of artists who would try to find interesting jobs for painters and offer them, just like you are being right now. We would like to pay the amount of One Thousand Five Hundred American Dollars for you to paint something in honour of Oscar-Claude Monet. This job would require you to move to France, if you are interested in taking it.
Would love to hear from you, soon.
Best regards, ArtSix”
you were shocked, you couldn’t believe your eyes. someone had offer to give you a job! finally, you’ll be able to earn good money while doing something you love! just sitting at home and ask your parents for money isnt doing you any good or rather at most times doing small jobs like being a waiter at a restaurant isnt doing any good. your apartment rent was getting expensive, anyways.
this might be your chance to get a fresh start! you texted MJ about the news and she said “congratulations!! we definitely have to trade paintings before you leave for 🇫🇷!!” you shoot back a gif that says “duh” but suddenly it hits you, how are you going to tell Peter? will he be happy for you or will he beg for you to stay?
*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・'(*゚▽゚*)'・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・*
a/n; aAAA UH OH READER IS GOING TO FRANCE WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN NEXT,, also if its not obvious,, reader is in denial skdjskfks
say you love me taglist! (dont be afraid to ask to be tagged! also i’m tagging some of yall who i think have been reading from the first chapter :-) and gave such kind criticism )
@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders
57 notes · View notes
Text
Bioshock Rebirth Part 1 told in a humorous way
Showed this to @feckinatlas like some of the others. I had this in my draft oh wait. Yeah this is part of my Bioshock Rebirth AU, my reimagining/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. While I don’t wanna write a full on novel because I’m lazy like that. Yet I wanted to make a funny recap. Originally this would of been part 1 and 2. But I decided to keep as 1 right now.
Basically was inspired by stuff like the ByteSize recaps of The Last Of Us. So if you want to know the full story but keep it short. Despite some parts seem long and deep. Yet this is told in a humorous way. Hopefully you enjoy it. Including the night before I am uploading this. I decided to add Booker’s parts because I imagine him as a boss.
Part 1.
Archie: My aircraft was shot down and now it crashed into the ocean near this lighthouse! What the Hell is all this!? Andrew Ryan? An underwater city called Rapture? Weird looking people trying to kill me? Weird diving suit monsters with drills? Little girls holding giant needles? What the Hell is going on down here?
Atlas: Oy lad! My name is Atlas. I’m the leader of the rebellion going against Ryan. He’s an asshole and I made the distress call. We need to take Ryan down and we need your help.
Archie: Okay man who I trust and grow to admire as a father figure who reminds me of myself. Hi two ladies.
Daisy: Hey there I’m Daisy. I’m Atlas’s 2nd in command and....I guess I’m gay with Diane.
Diane: We had a weird history.
Archie: Ah no judgement there. :)
Atlas: Now we need your help rescuing this young girl Ryan has imprisoned. We don’t know why she’s imprisoned but we need to save her.
Later.
Elizabeth: I’m Elizabeth and I want to go Paris! But I’m stuck in this tower. :( But you’re real and that’s so awesome! :D
Archie: Hi Elizabeth! I’m here to rescue you! 
Bluto: Who in the fuck wants her out!?
Archie: AH SHIT HE’S A BIG DIVING SUIT MONSTER! 
*When they get out.*
Elizabeth: Oh my God it’s so great out here!
Archie: Oh crap I’m starting to like her.
*As they explore Rapture more.*
Atlas: Ah crap they’re working like a team! She’s using these small tears to help him out while he shoots stuff!
Elizabeth: I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind and go crazy seeing all this death and unpleasant stuff. :( Especially after meeting that Steinman guy.
Archie: You’re going to be alright. Nothing is gonna hurt you. Don’t become apathetic. We’ll get through this together. :)
Elizabeth: I feel comfortable with you. :)
Atlas: Now since that Big Daddy is dead. Put that Little Sister out of her misery!
Archie: Oh Hell no man! There has to be another way!
Brigid: Do not hurt my little ones. Hello young man and young girl. Use this thing to free them from their torment.
Archie: Ah thanks lady. :)
Atlas: Don’t trust her Arch! She’s responsible for them!
Archie: But she’s trying to help them! :(
Booker: Argh! I work for Ryan’s personal guard! You’re Atlas’s Dog. I’ll send my troopers to get that girl back. Including I’ll wonder if I should capture or kill you!
*After going around unpopulated and some populated parts in Rapture for nearly a week.*
Archie: Ah man Tenenbaum’s safehouse is pretty nice. And these Little Sisters are kids and are great. :) Yet Brigid seems weird around. Especially she looked like I looked familiar. Even Atlas did so too. And sometimes he says these three words sometimes and my head hurts.
Later.
Julie: These are my franken trees.
Archie and Elizabeth: Woah!
Later.
Cohen: I’m Sander Cohen and I’m a weird and disgusting artist guy! 
Archie: Ugh I don’t like him.
Elizabeth: Me neither.
Jasmine: Hi I’m Jasmine and I’m a stripper. :)
Archie: This Jasmine lady is very nice. Glad we were able to rescue her.
Later.
Bluto: Argh! Give me back Elizabeth! I’m trying to protect her! 
Archie: We need to stop the Proto-Daddy! We have to kill him.
Elizabeth: No I can’t kill the closest thing I had to a protective brother.
Archie: I understand that Elizabeth but we have to stop him or he’s gonna cause more death and destruction. I would love if there was another way. Including there’s no turning back if you have to stop him.
Elizabeth: I understand but let me be the one who has to put him down. I’m not going to enjoy this.
*Puts him through a tear that sends him into space as he falls from orbit.*
Bluto: Nooooo! You were my best friend Elizabeth!
Elizabeth: :(
Archie: I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure he was a great friend. *Hugs her to comfort her.* You’re still a good person.
Booker: Argh! That’s it boy scout let’s fight! Why the Hell aren’t you mutating? Why are you so badass? How are you able to kill so many of my troopers with some what ease! Fight me boy scout! I’ll show you how a real soldier fights!
Archie: Okay gruff old man!
Booker: No you beat me! I just want my daughter back! She’s the only important thing in my life! She deserves better than this. :(
Elizabeth: You’re my father. 
Archie: I’m not gonna kill you because while you’re an asshole. You don’t wanna hurt children and you still love your daughter. Now let’s go Elizabeth. 
Later.
Atlas: Alright Arch we’re close to getting to Ryan. How about you go to Ryan and take him down. Whether you kill him or not. I’ll take care of Tenenbaum and Elizabeth since they trust me a lot. Even though with Tenenbaum she still doesn’t trust me fully.
Archie: Thanks Atlas. You’re a great friend. :) Now excuse me while me and some others go to Ryan. You can take care of the two closest people I’ve known in my life. I’m sure they will be in good hands.
Later.
Archie: It’s over Ryan! 
Ryan: A man chooses. A slave obeys. A broken slave has no purpose. You’re a broken machine who’s entire life was a lie. 
Archie: Bullshit. >:(
Ryan: Would you kindly? Familiar phrase.
Archie: Ah my head hurts AND OH MY GOD ATLAS KEPT USING THAT PHRASE AND I’VE BEEN SEEING WEIRD SHIT LIKE ME WANTING TO KILL YOU!
Ryan: Yes he has and you saw that Fontaine was involved in your process. Now beat me to death with this golf club so you can prove you’re just a slave.
Archie: Hell no old man! >:( *Takes the genetic key and goes back to Atlas.*
Later.
Archie: Atlas how did you know of the WYK plans?
Atlas: I don’t know what you’re talking about boyo? But hey did you know Elizabeth’s lips taste like strawberries? She tried to kiss me you know.
*Atlas gets knocked out by a wrench and Archie finds the two ladies tied up.*
Elizabeth: Oh my God you came back! I found out I was born full of ADAM!
Brigid: Yes he did thank goodness you came back. Atlas terrorized us! 
Archie: I’m here to save you two from Atlas because he’s been lying to me about a lot of stuff. *His radio gets called.* Hello?
Atlas: Code Yellow. >:)
Archie: AHHHHH! I’m slowly dying and it’s more raw now! My life is flashing right before my eyes! 
Elizabeth: Oh no Archie! :(
Brigid: We need help and have to find the stuff to stop him from dying! We owe it to him!
Archie: I’m slowly losing my mind! I’m dying! I’m remembering everything! Andrew Ryan! Frank Fontaine! Yi Suchong! Brigid Tenenbaum! Jasmine Jolene! the Lutece twins! Johnny Topside! What the Hell happened to me!? What is my life!? I’m remembering everyone I met in Rapture! I’m not 23 and actually 5 years old!? My name is Jack Ryan!? What the Hell happened to my life!?
After that he wakes up.
Archie: Brigid knew who I was! I’m angry! >:( She had a hand in ruining my life!
Elizabeth: Archie no! I forgave Brigid! Please don’t hurt her!
Brigid: Ah yes you’re pointing a gun on me that I made sure has no ammo. I think you finally remember everything. :(
Archie: My real name is Jack Ryan. I’m actually 5 years old. I literally was ordered to snap a puppy’s neck by Suchong. Frank was gonna use me to save Elizabeth and kill Ryan! You were one of the people responsible for ruining my life!? And you didn’t tell me when you found out it was me!? I’m not a actual human because of what you, Fontaine, and Suchong did to me! I was supposed to be a slave! What the Hell did Johnny Topside do to me!? >:O
Brigid: Yes I had a hand. But I feel great shame. You were meant to be a sleeper agent. But Johnny discovered you. He couldn’t handle the idea of someone like you going through that. So he kidnapped you, punched Suchong in the face, and he had help reprogramming you. I felt empathy as well. This happened when I realized what I did to the Little Sisters. Me and him changed your life. We gave you the name Archie. While the Lutece twins made sure you were in a place where Fontaine could never find you.
Archie: Johnny did that?
Brigid: Yet due to the experiments done on you. Along with you going through military training. You became stronger than you ever were. Yet it was your own choice to become a soldier.
Archie: Woah.
Brigid: Fontaine used Johnny’s death as propaganda. As if Johnny was the first to rebel against Ryan. In a way he did. But the truth was that all Johnny wanted for you was a normal life. In a way he was practically the real Atlas in a way. Since Atlas was inspired by him. Including some of Johnny’s traits and memories went to you in a different way. He became a slave to give you freedom. And I feel terrible that I couldn’t save him. :( You don’t have to forgive me. 
Archie: I forgive you. ;_; *Breaks down crying as Brigid, Elizabeth, and the Little Sisters hug him. Because before this. He showcased he was more human than he ever was.*
Later.
Archie: We gonna stop Frank! 
Atlas: Oy you fucking mistake! You were the closest thing I had to a son! You were meant to be my Ace In The Hole! Yet you didn’t kill Ryan! You got too close to Mother Goose, the Little Magician, those brats, and anyone else! Johnny Topside ruined everything! Tenenbaum betrayed! So you know what, I’m gonna take the woman you’ve grown to love! She and all the ADAM in this city are gonna make me a lot money! You are gonna die alone because you have everything I didn’t have!
Archie: Johnny Topside was more of a father than you ore Ryan could ever be! >:(
Atlas: That’s it time for the disappointment wrench! >:(
*Hits him with the disappointment wrench.*
Elizabeth: No! ;_;
Atlas: My secret is out! I gonna get the Hell out of this city! Everything’s gone busto!
Archie: We gonna save Elizabeth! He has the genetic key! We need to kill Frank Fontaine!
Daisy: We the remaining rebellion can help you!
Archie: That’s great! But I’m worried we may need some Little Sisters help to free Elizabeth! I don’t want to put them in danger.
Brigid: Don’t worry I’ll trust you and we believe in you. We’ll help however we can.
Later.
Archie: It’s okay Elizabeth! I’m coming! Holy shit Frank is that you!?
Atlas: I’m half transformed by this ADAM and using some power from Elizabeth. Now time to go mano a mano against you.
*Both men just scream battle cries at each other as they fight to the death.*
Atlas: I’m so angry at you! I’m gonna beat you to death! Meaning you can’t save this woman you’ve grown to love! 
*Miranda, Sally, and some Little Sisters free Elizabeth so she can use a tear on him.*
Atlas: Ah crap! 0_0;
*Archie screams a battle cry as he stabs Atlas in the chest with a ADAM syringe and hangs him brutally down a glass ceiling. Resulting in the death of Atlas/Frank Fontaine.*
Archie: Hooray we did it! :)
Elizabeth: Yes we did it! :)
Daisy: Fontaine is dead! Ryan is gone! Let’s make Rapture a place where a community can safely live at. :)
Archie: I’m not alone anymore too. I have a family now! 
*Two months of changing stuff as much as they can. Since there is the scary risk if Rapture is found by the surface.*
During that time, relaxation, relationships developing. Also this.
Jasmine: I’m sorry that I sold you for money. I know you must hate me. 
Archie: I forgive you. :) I understand and you’re my birth mom.
Jasmine: Thank you. ;_; *They just hug each other.* I’m so proud of you.
7 notes · View notes