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del-uxie · 3 years

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Genesis

You woke in a forest.

Even before you could react to your surroundings, you became acutely aware of just about everything. The sway of the breeze, the way the leaves would crunch if stomped on by some stray beast. The way that stars, vast expanses away, would explode and be reborn. The knowledge that eventually, the universe would die out, but eventually, it would come about once again, and nobody would know what came before or what will come after. Just the knowledge of existence in the moment.

You have just been born. For any other organism, this would be quite a lot to deal with, but owing to your unusual circumstances, you’re getting along just fine. The cold breeze flows around you, and towering trees emanate from just about everywhere. You cannot see the sky, or the heavens above. Your base life form couldn’t, anyhow, even though you know exactly what it would look like without the canopy above.

You hurt. Something seems to pang at the top of your body, somewhere you can’t quite detect, and you believe it’s due to straining your imagination too much. ‘Imagination’ is a strong word for it, when it’s really just a completely certain premonition – then that pang comes again. You realise your digression, and realise you’ll have to travel around to navigate your new environment. This form of yours is weak, and not at its full potential.

Burrowing through the earth, tunnelling through the dark depths of parasites and worms, you emerge once more in a bush. It’s a startling height for any life-form to traverse, but you are acutely suited to this sort of travel. A creature resides on the top of it – it has wings for swift flight, and eyes that glow in the dark. It has tall ears, and fur, yet there’s evidence of evolution from some kind of snake or reptile, a life-form that’s present quite far across the universe. You get another little pang, and decide to focus on your little discovery.

You inch closer. Now, you can feel the warmth of its body upon yours. It does not flee in spite of its strong hearing, and you realise there must not be many predators around. You do not feel that pang, and instead feel a little glimmer, knowing that your powers of deduction don’t affect your physical state. Its nose twitches, sensing something else – yet, its pupils do not dilate. The darkness around must not allow for such evolutionary advances – and in spite of yourself, you feel some sort of kinship to it.

You emerge from the bush, staring at it directly. It moves, but again, does not flee, instead deciding to sniff you curiously. You couldn’t possibly tell what it thought of you, but in that moment, it scurried off at not too fast a pace, leading you off into a clearing where several more of its species were situated. A family, it seems – two adults and a litter of their young, one of them looking rather sickly. They are all resting, and the one you met joins them for the night.

You pause for a moment, observing the way their chests rise and fall, and the way the adults curl up to one another, as if to say ‘Your warmth needs my warmth’. You feel a little self conscious about your lack of warmth, and then realise you have nothing to be self conscious about. You scurry back up into the bush you came from, and remain there for the rest of the night.

Midnight.

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking. You spent a lot of time observing those spaces you cannot see on this planet – and learn much of its past. This species is one of the few that survived a cataclysmic event many moons ago, its surprise evolution of wings due to cross-breeding being its sole saviour. They are due to die out due to strongly hereditary heart problems, but if they were conscious of this – or, indeed, if anyone but you were, you’re sure this could easily be bred out. They are all to die of something they have no control over, or knowing part in.

You enter the clearing again. Only one of them is awake.

When the sun rises, the clearing is empty.

There is still something you’re missing.

As you travel across this planet, you wonder how you’re going to get about. You have nowhere near enough energy to simply teleport yourself – something only you, an entity borne of uranium could do – that energy would have to come from the GREEN SUN, and having just been born, you’ve not had a trip over there. Well, ‘just been born’ would be an overstatement – you guess it’s probably been about 5, 10 years so far? On this planet, at least. Whatever, time is of no essence to you.

You don’t really think leaving this planet and getting more energy to truly explore further would fill that void, though. There’s something you don’t have that the mere mortal organisms do, and it’s eating at you. Not in an emotive sense, but in one of a severe incompleteness. You want what they have. You want what these pathetic creatures have – you want ears that prick up at noise. You want a leg that will bend if you tap it with a stick. You want a nose that will twitch at the smell of fresh berries.

In fact, you do just that as a tall figure lands, her wings flapping in the wind as she sets herself down to crouch by you. You can already tell she’s not a native of this planet. Her green skin and skeletal outside tell you as much – she must be a species specifically designed to weather almost any conditions, as she doesn’t react to the cold wind around her.

She speaks to you, in some tongue you don’t recognise, and after a few words more, you start figuring it out.

“…little guy. You don’t look like those other fellers I saw elsewhere. Some big meanie get your friends?” she says, her shawl fluttering in the wind. She has a distinctly rural accent, you decide, and prick your ears up at her, sniffing her.

“Guess you can’t understand what I’m sayin, huh? C’mere, little man.” She says, picking you up and placing you in her pocket, dangerously close to falling out. You rummage around in there, trying to get more comfortable, and she chuckles. “Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna getcha. Lookin’ for those folks that went n hurted your friends, that’s all.” She jumps up from the ground, flying up and away with her white wings, and spiralling out of the trees – and from there, you see light for the first time. A beautiful, pastel pink sky, with two small, dim suns in the distance. It’s about sunset, and you can see a castle on the hill.

You guess that must belong to her.

“See that place up there?” she says, stroking the bit between your ears while she flies, about ready to land. “That’s my place.”

“I’m Prosperity, by the way.” She smiles, her green, full cheeks lighting up.

“Pleased to meetcha, little no-face guy.”

You take up residence with the strange alien on this strange planet. You haven’t actually spoken to her, mind you – you’ve spent your time observing the way things work around here, attempting to get by without your immediate potential knowledge. You’re still not that good with your powers, you know that. You’ve got to get to the Green Sun, but for now, you’re stuck with this lady.

She looks at you one morning, curious. You stare at her back, in the middle of eating the gruel that she always feeds you. The lady doesn’t move, but gives you a hauntingly knowing smile – one that you don’t recognise. Your ears fall back, and you stop eating your food.

“I know what you are now. Asked around some.” she says, sitting down next to you. You don’t know what to do. If she’s figured you out, she might see to it that you never leave this place. These puny forms couldn’t possibly withstand a trip out to space, no matter what you devour and assume the likeness of – like it or not, you’re tethered to this woman. You just thought she assumed you were some defenceless critter of sorts, but this look in her eyes has scared you.

“Yer a changeling, aren’tcha? Those little critters that hop around galaxies, hiding by turnin’ into random animals.” She says. You pause for a moment, and realise she’s wrong – so you double down on the effect, pretending to be ashamed. Prosperity smiles at you, looking genuinely proud of herself. “Knew it. Y’don’t havta keep that form around me, y’know. I’d like to think we’re friends by now.” The lady places her clawed hand in her sharp jaw, observing you quietly. “Could at least gimme an apology. I unno what I did to inspire yer total silence, but unless yer under some monastic oath, y’could ‘splain to me a few things.”

You pause for a moment, and debate what to say.

“…I’m sorry I made you feel bad, Prosperity.” You say, mouth unmoving. Her smile alters a bit, as if unsettled by this – but then she does a little gasp of surprise, her wings fluttering.

“Haha, it’s no sweat, little guy! Why don’tcha tell me what a beastie like you is doin’ all the way out here in the schticks, huh?” she chatters, looking genuinely interested now. You relay the whole story to her, omitting a vast majority of the details, but still getting across your need to flee this planet. She gives you vast attention, more than you were used to from the wild animals and her disaffected small-talk of before, and it feels good.

“Well, little man, I dunno where this Green Sun of yers is. Plenty’a suns out there, and not one of ‘em that I’ve seen has ever been green. Guess I could scout a place like that out for ya, if ya need it.” She pauses, getting up and putting her jacket on, as if planning to leave immediately. Instead, she simply steps just outside to water the flowers on the windowsill, to which you clamber up on the counter to hear her better.

“Us cherubs have always been mighty good at space travel. Entirely independent of our host planets, didja know that?” she says, tending to her flowers. “I guess without that our race woulda died out long ago. Hell, for all any of us know, we already have. S’not like I’m seekin out any’a my kin, even though I’m ‘sposed to.”

You tilt your head at her, and she jerks her head over. “Oh, c’mon, y’can’t pretend you don’t understand me now. Y’owe me a little small talk, no-face.”

“…sorry. Do you really have to seek out others of your species? Why?” You say, feigning interest. She doesn’t pick up on this social cue, and grins, carrying on.

“Matin’ purposes, and suchlike. I tell ya, I don’t give a damn hoot about it. I mean, we’re fated to fuckin’ DIE as soon as we repredouce! Reprodooce? Reproduce. Yeah, that’s it.” Her watering can empties, and she heads inside to fill it up again, the water clinking against the metal sides of the can. “So I just said, fuck it. I’ll be a ranger of space or some shit. Then I did just that. I wander around, helpin’ out whatever planet needs it. Not that I’m ever in time for some sentient conversation, so in that sense, you’ve been a huge help, little guy!” You frown internally, and decide next time you’ll pick a form that’s a bit less small.

“I can tell we’ll get along just fine.”

One morning, you notice she’s taken out a device of some form. It produces sound waves of differing frequencies, depending on the tension she applies to different parts of the object. You don’t understand it, so you hop up to her on the sofa, having gotten back from your daily exploration.

She doesn’t seem to really notice you, having gotten used to your rather free-spirited nature. The sounds continue playing, and she looks as if she’s about to open her mouth to create similar frequencies, when you realise she’d noticed you all along.

“What is that?”

“Ah, this ol’ thing? Lil’ relic from my home planet, this. Bet you’ve never seen anythin’ like it out here.” She says, her eyes glimmering. You detect a little something behind them, and say nothing for a bit, before continuing.

“What does it do?”

“Why, it makes music, little guy!” Prosperity grins, and scratches you between the ears again. It feels nice, and you don’t like that she can just do that. “Here, I’ll show ya… just sit tight, I gotta figure out how this one goes again.”

She plucks a few of the strings with her claws, their wornness becoming more apparent to you as she plays. Though her initial tones are erratic and confused, a tune begins to eke out once more, and once she gets going properly, she begins to sing. Her voice is beautiful, and like no sound you’ve ever heard before. It melds with the soft chirping of animals in the background, and her dulcet tones, singing of a home sweeter than this and a fire warmer than ours, reminds you of something. Something that you won’t ever have.

The song makes you sad.

She take note of this before long, and pauses, cuddling you up to her. She’s warm, and it feels nice. You feel warm now, too, and you realise that’s one thing you’ve gained on your time here, even if you haven’t managed to escape this planet yet and even if you haven’t managed to get to the Green Sun. While she cuddles you in her muscular arms, she smiles softly, strumming tunes idly in repetition.

“Y’know, there’s a reason us cherubs are s’posedta mate.” She says, still strumming softly. “When we’re lil’ kids, there’s two of us in this one body. We live like that n’til one of em’ fights for dominance, a fight that’s gotta be fairly won. ‘Therwise, yer fucked fer life, and can’t ever ‘scape yer homeplanet.” She strokes your back, and you shuffle over, prompting her to carry on petting your head again. “Anyway, in ‘xchange for bein able to live alone, there’s a price that’s paid.”

The tune changes slightly. “When ya separate, yer body chemistry alters permanently. T’that of the body you were always destined ta have, but fer some reason, those receptors for the other chemicals stay there. N’yer body always expects em.” Her eyes flit to the distance. “Causes some kinda deep, primordial loneliness. One that can only be filled by matin’, or so the old legends go.”

“…so why don’t you?”

“Huh? Well…” She stops playing for a moment, realising she’s lost track of the tune she’s playing. Prosperity gets up for a quick drink of water to clear her throat, then sits back down again, as you hop back into her lap, the instrument resting there as well.

“…I guess I just don’t wanna die. I mean, that sorta fear- it’s not meanta be part of our psychology. Otherwise, we’d all literally die out. I guess… fer some reason, I just had that fear.” Her finger circles your fur, getting under your wing and warming up the spot there. “I don’t have a lot ta leave behind, ‘part from you and the lil’ critters I find out in space. I guess I don’t even know there’s anything out there but you an’ I, unless I believe those ol’ scriptures on my home planet.”

“But I guess ahm… ahm still scared. I dunno what’s out there, and I don’t wanna find out. So I think- I think-“ You look up at her. Her eyes are wet. “I think I’m just gonna try an build a good life fer you’n’I. And find that Green Sun’a yers.”

“…you think you’ll make it?”

“Someday, little bit.” She says, scratching your ears. “Someday.”

You hear a thud from outside. She’s arrived home from her travels while you were resting. You scurry outside, pushing the door open with all your might, and see her standing there.

“I’ve found it.” She picks you up, and you nestle in her pocket, finally able to get comfortable. Prosperity is wordless as she packs the few supplies and bits she’ll need for the second journey, but you can tell it’s not that far. Otherwise, she’d be packing more.

She flies up out of the atmosphere of this planet, the deep purple sky leaving you behind and the murky abyss of space emerging. Little glimmers of light emanate all around you, and though she’s fast, you can still see just about everything around you. The lights spiral around, and you realise that there’s something bigger than even you out there. There’s something bigger than you, and you’ll either meet it or become it someday.

The thought scares you.

You wonder why she isn’t talking. You’re really thankful she did all this for you, and you want to express that, but the words just wouldn’t come out right if you said them now, so you stay quiet for a bit, before making some idle conversation. “Is it far?” you ask, and she says no, no it isn’t. She darts below and through some asteroids, dipping expertly around the terrain, and flying past planets – ones very different from the one where you were born, and ones that are similar.

There’s a peculiar spot not far up ahead. As you approach, it seems to get narrower and thinner, yet your speed increases – Prosperity shoots directly for this spot, and you tunnel through it, landing straight on the surface of a large asteroid with far more force than either of you could really withstand.

Her blood spurrels out of her jaw. You panickedly tell her that she didn’t need to go that fast, and that you had all the time in the world, trying to tend to her wounds, but she laughs and says it’s alright. It’s oddly silent out here, without the strum of her guitar and the quieter sound of her voice against the space atmosphere, and she says it’s alright. Her eyes are lowered, and you know she will be. Cherubs are built to withstand anything.

Right?

Right, she says. She leans up, and looks at you. She can go no further, she says. “Do you see this?” she speaks, pulling her half-burnt wing over to you. You didn’t even noticed, you were so focused on getting there together. It’s charred green, and you can barely look at the festered infected wound starting to grow there, tumours bubbling. “I- I can’t go near that thing. Not in a million years. N’you can’t… you told me you can’t live without it.”

She stands up, staring at the Green Sun. Though it doesn’t hurt her eyes at this distance, if she walked any further, the few remaining bits of her nigh invincible evolution would burn away. She holds something in her hand, and you realise why she looked so worn that day.

“…you didn’t.”

It’s an egg. An egg, with two spirals within it – one red, and one green.

“Little bit, I ain’t got anythin’ else in this world to care ‘bout no more. Ah- I knew when I first saw you that you’d be trouble, n’I guess you weren’t wrong.”

“So, here. It’s mine. N’with this exchange, ah- I had to kill another cherub. The only one I’ve ever seen, I had to- his body is out here.” She says, shaking, holding onto you. “His body is out in this fucking- the place, the one place, the place you told me to find. The place you’d be safe, and- I-“

“There’s nowhere to go from here, is there?” you say, staring out at the sun.

“No, there ain’t.”

She stands in front of you. You know what she wants you to do, and you know you can’t do it.

And the next morning, there isn’t a cherub in front of you anymore.

#my writing #jon #prosperity #my ocs

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myouki · 3 years

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Just Deserts (One-Shot)

Chapter Warnings:

Death mentions, swearing

Credits:

Lotus: @nekophy

Rurik: @angeutblogo

***

A slash of the scythe was all it took to separate the soul from its body; Lotus reached forward to scoop the dimming construct into his holed palm, cringing at the anguish emanating from within. "Sucked to be you; better luck next time, if there is one," the reaper mumbled, concentrating his magic and watching as the remnants of life faded into the afterlife much like the hundreds of others he had collected that day. Shifting the weapon underneath his arm and pulling out his list, he ticked off one of the names and glanced at the many remainders under it before shoving the paper back into his pocket. He readied his magic for a teleport as he grumbled, "How many of you assholes have to die in one day?"

Arriving on top of a building overlooking the location, he parked himself on the ledge and let his mind wander while he waited for the unlucky bastard to show up.

Every day was the same song and dance; finding monsters and humans in varying states of decay or standing vigil to the gorefest from a position of relative safety, then separating the essence from their sorry carcass without giving in to the urge to hurl. He hated his job, but he didn't have many alternatives that paid well without some form of higher education to fall back on; there was also the fact that he was literally born to reap souls, not to mention the world would be up shit's creek if wayward souls were left to descend into madness without the release of death.

If nothing else, he could take solace in each day that one particular name wasn't on his list.

The buzzing of his phone brought him out of his woolgathering; retrieving it from his pocket, he unlocked the device and read the message.

R: you busy?

“You’ve got some kind of timing…,” Lotus huffed despite the slight smile working its way onto his face as he tapped away at his screen.

L: In between jobs; you?

Seconds after hitting send, a new message followed it.

R: lunch break

At least Rurik wasn’t shirking work to goof around on his phone.

L: So what’s up?

R: bored

R: wanted something to do

Lotus stared down at his phone for a solid five seconds; was he serious?

L: You literally have a phone with internet in your hands.

L: Watch a video or read a book.

R: nothing interesting

R: wanted something fun to look at

R: like some dunes from you 😉

“Really?” Lotus sighed, knowing what the monster was asking for despite their typo; he loved his boyfriend, but he could never understand their constant preoccupation with sex. As he began to tap out his response chastising their dirty mind, an idea popped into his skull and he backspaced with a growing smirk.

L: Alright, hold on.

R: Really?

L: Yup

Pasting the first photo into the text box, Lotus was grinning like a maniac as he hit send.

L: Here you go.

L: What about this one? It has camels.

R: what the hell is this?

L: You said you wanted dunes from me.

L: I gave you what you asked for 😜

R: haha very funny

R: got my hopes up for nothing

L: That’s what you get for trying to do dirty shit at work.

R: but now I’m horny

L: That sounds like a you problem.

“Get away from me!” A scream rang out from below. A man was grabbing for a woman’s purse with a knife in hand.

“Great, another mugging about to go wrong,” Lotus groused, glancing over at his phone as he let the scene play out in the background; hopefully, it would be over by the time he finished.

L: Job’s here; have to go.

Another scream, this time from the guy. “That was- oh,” the skeleton blinked, then snorted, “well damn, there’s a pleasant twist.” The guy, who apparently had a feminine-sounding name if the list was still accurate, had somehow gotten the knife turned on himself as the woman fled the scene. For once, someone was getting what was coming to them. Summoning his scythe, Lotus’s phone buzzed; the mugger was still in their death throes, rolling around on the ground crying pathetically for help, so he could spare a couple of seconds to check Rurik’s response.

R: see you at home

Another response popped up right after.

R: maybe all of you? 😘

Lotus shook his skull in exasperated amusement, typing out a quick response before pocketing the phone and dropping down to collect his now-still target.

L: We’ll see.

***

You guys have no idea how long it took to right justify Lotus’s texts on here manually or how long I spent trying to move the images over because HTML mode would not cooperate.

#FellPoth #Lotus #Fell!Goth #Rurik #Fell!Palette #JD #One shot #MyWriting #TW: Death mentions #Swearing

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80 for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask!

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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kylowrens · 4 years

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Pas De Deux

Read on AO3

Summary: You are the empress of the planet Khagdra and the ruler of the Cosmic Concord, an up and coming alliance prepared to take down the Resistance and the First Order, as you see yourself as the ideal leader of the galaxy. You're willing to do anything for the throne, even defeat the mighty Supreme Leader Kylo Ren. But will he let you destroy everything he's built?

Words: 2500

Rating: Explicit (LOTS OF VIOLENCE AND VIOLENT SEX)

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Hey guys! This is my very first Kylo fic and I hope y’all enjoy what I intend to be a very harrowing enemies to lovers slow burn with lots of kinky sex and violence HAHA

You were a woman of thunder.

And he happened to be a man made of fire.

What an incendiary duel of magic.

You were the empress of your home planet Khagdra and ruler of the Cosmic Concord, a rising intergalactic conglomeration that lain on neither sides of the war- the Resistance was sloppy with its efforts and the First Order was something you considered to be pathetically archaic within the realms of what it aspired to be. With various nations conjuring up your planet, Khagdra was an empire within itself.

You anticipated for today to be diplomatic at best as you prepared to meet with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren over the usage of the Wayfinder, an object intended to guide its users to the hidden planet Exegol- oh how wrong you were. Your planet hailed the containment of the coveted object and word spread across the galaxy, far enough to catch the attention of the Supreme Leader himself. You assumed the Supreme Leader wanted the Wayfinder to take advantage of the secret Sith planet, while you wanted to destroy it.

You felt searing pain, then nothing, in your upper left arm as a side of the crossguard on his lightsaber, sparking erratically, dug into your flesh.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you gritted through the pleasurable pain. A rose-gold helmet concealed your identity and voice from the beautiful man in front of you, the modulator allowing your groan to emanate in an electronic, gender-neutral hum. The heavy rain of your desert oceanic home planet soaked through your dark red noble dress and cape that were embedded with intricate, bronze and gold designs. Your lightsaber, glowing golden in its righteous majesty, pressed against the masked man’s crimson sword as your arms were raised up and back over your head. You heaved forward, sending his saber and body fumbling backwards.

Chuckling, you spun your saber effortlessly as a taunt, an invitation. Kylo huffed, slightly hunched over as he stomped towards you, the rain gliding off his helmet. He swung towards you and you nimbly bent backwards to evade the blade’s heat. Twirling, you regained balance and squeezed the gash on your arm firmly, riling yourself up with rage and a thirst for glory. You managed to glide the tip of your blade along his side; he growled in response and turned sharply towards you. His brute strength only proved the rumors true- he was a champion amongst men.

Kylo’s second mistake was pressing that frenetic excuse of a saber into your arm- the first, was assuming your people were weak. Once his Upsilon-class command shuttle landed, he and his troop of First Order soldiers prodded an innocent family while on their way to your palace. The news quickly made its way to your throne and you knew immediately this battle would be far from effortless. Your own troops of fighters, called novawarriors, quickly stormed into warfare, warding off countless First Order stormtroopers with electric double-sided spears.

Kylo did a number on various lives of your warriors as he waited for you at the foot of your palace, which was cushioned by bouquets of tropical trees all around. This not only enraged you, but fancied your interest as well. The life and lore of the mighty Kylo Ren were things almost of myth, as you only heard of him through word of mouth. He was said to rest his helmet on the ashes of those who came in his way, and he was so ruthless, that he took his own father’s life. The idea of him waiting for you to become one with the others who now serve as a resting place for his helmet thrilled you to no end.

Your train of thought was interrupted by another might of heat and pain, this time surging through your shoulder. You yelped and aimed your lightsaber towards him, only for him to block it with his own. He leaned forward and gained power over you, his figure looming above your frame like a malevolent shadow. You were agile and quick on your feet, especially compared to his large stature and extreme height, but his brute strength was close to getting the best of you. You heaved over to the side and balance grew within your feet.

You sensed him all around you, a ferocious haze blanketing you- you could feel his anger as it reflected the state of his lightsaber. He was curious about who you were, yet wrath overcame his curiosity. His energy was so strong that you felt whatever he felt; in that moment, his wrath became yours.Your heart raced and your hands trembled as blood dripped off your body. You were not allowing this man to overcome you, regardless of his achievements.

You swung your sword and missed.

You missed again as he leaned back.

With one stomp forward, you were able to graze him. He growled once again as he attempted to hit you, missing as you leapt high and backwards with the help of the Force.

“My goodness, Supreme Leader,” you purred through the helmet. “I must admit, this is quite the introduction.”

At first, he didn’t say anything. He raised his lightsaber and pointed it at you. “Identify yourself at once.” his voice was low. You chuckled softly at the sound of raindrops hitting against your helmets, pellets tapping against metal.

You turned your lightsaber off and clasped it onto a specialized belt on the side of your dress. You raised the helmet off your head, allowing your tucked hair to flow freely and quickly become soaked by the rain. You glanced at the masked man with mischievous eyes, eyelashes fluttering and the slightest upwards curve of your lip apparent. Despite your confidence, you ached to know the face under the mask. With the mask on, he oozed a domineering, cold, and relentless identity.

The sound of his flickering saber filled the rain-heavy air. If it weren’t for the slight movement of his shoulders, you would have assumed he was frozen.

“I am your demise.”

Thunder cracked in the sky behind you and water spilled over your cheeks. You blinked against the heavy rain to discern any reaction from Kylo.

“Is that so?” he asked rhetorically, his saber still aimed at you.

“Do you doubt me?” you raised your voice.

Kylo shut his lightsaber off and trekked towards you menacingly. You walked backwards cautiously until your back hit the cement wall of one of your military bases. He looked down at you- you stood your ground and looked up, staring at your reflection in his mask. His helmet, which appeared to be previously broken, was forged with blaring red seams.

You suddenly felt a dull and blunt pain against your neck, the walls of your throat closing in on itself. Tears welled up and an incessant ringing made itself present in your ears. You managed to cough out one choke as Kylo used the Force to constrict your neck and tilt your head even higher.

“Yes, in fact, I do,” he replied. “I have far beyond the means to destroy everything you have built here, which isn’t much to begin with.”

You mustered up the strength to kick him in the shin- you weren’t sure if it hurt him or not, as he released the Force on your neck and replaced it with a leather-clad hand. A surge of excitement surged through you, especially in your fingertips and belly.

You wadded saliva up in your mouth and spit it at his face. It glided down his mask with various rain droplets. You were confident in the congregation you led- you were a descendant in a line of generations of independent leaders, a princess in a dynasty destined for greatness.

“That’s your mistake,” you said in a hushed tone on account of the heavy tightening of your throat. “Your First Order does not have much to offer either, Supreme Leader. Perhaps your organization would be run better under the guise of one who knows how to rule.”

“I’m very surprised a ruler such as yourself would be so foolish with her words.” he released you from his grip and you coughed more until your breathing was stable.

“I only speak the truth.”

“You are blinded by your own arrogance, then,” he spat. “I suggest you give me the Wayfinder while your kingdom is in one piece, empress.”

You scoffed loudly. “No.”

“Alright,” Kylo began. “But when I find it after tearing your planet to shreds, the only demise that will be happening is yours.”

“An empty promise made by an empty head,” you rolled your eyes, straining your neck to look up at him. “You’ll never find it. I’d rather die than give you such a thing.”

“I can arrange that.”

“I’d love to see you try.” you taunted, much to your own dismay; Kylo sought out to your little tease and grabbed the hair at the top of your head and slammed it against the cement wall. A painful pressure filled your skull for a brief moment, and the ringing came back. His fist gripped your hair so tightly you almost felt your scalp peeling away from your head.

He released your head and slid a gloved hand to your neck, pressing down on it with great strength. In one fell swoop you no longer were standing, but pinned against the stone ground. You blinked furiously against the rain. He raised his free hand and allowed it to hover over your face. You felt the Force waver around you, but not once did it infiltrate your head. Blood pounded in your ears and your vision blurred. The world around you sounded muddled. He did this for a moment too long, then tried again to no avail.

You looked at him with confused eyes, and slowly rolled them up and back in an attempt to view the war that sweltered on, though to you, it was upside down. Palm trees engulfed in flames as stormtroopers blasted at novawarriors. There was a slight comfort in knowing that they were also in this battle. Light spilled over your face for a second as lightning burnt the sky. Your attention snapped back to Kylo as he slammed your head against the ground once again, your brain throbbing with a searing pain and vision lagging so much you could have sworn you saw two Supreme Leaders.

“I can’t get into your head,” he stated. “Why?”

Your eyes rolled backwards and your head lolled until Kylo held it in place with his hands, which made your head feel small in comparison. “Good,” you said dizzily.

“Answer me.”

“I’m not- I’m not, quite sure,” you said politely, though your words were delivered with labor. “I feel you all around me, your anger, your confusion. All of it.”

“No such thing is possible.”

“Your spirit is so strong, and yet you still haven’t killed me yet,” a smile creeped onto your face. “What, do you like playing with your food?”

You paused, then your smile grew wider. “Your thoughts say yes,” you said amusingly. “That makes this all so much more fun.”

Kylo glanced over to your exposed gashed shoulder that peaked through torn cloth. He gripped onto it and squeezed, causing you to yelp and arch your back against the agonizing pain. Blood gushed out of the open wound as you wriggled against his grasp. Tears pricked your eyes and you prayed to the Maker that he would let go.

“I believe you and I have contradicting views on what ‘fun’ is,” his voice was aggressive through the modulator.

“I-I disagree,” your tongue was drenched with saliva as you spoke. You waited long enough for the initial pain to subside and drone to a monotonous level of sharp stinging. It almost hurt so much, that it felt good, especially with his hand providing so much pressure. You discreetly flexed your hand and used the Force to pierce his head with psionic pain. He groaned and released your shoulder, to your relief. He gripped the sides of his helmet and slightly hunched over.

“Are you not amused, Supreme Leader?” you teased. At this point, the term “Supreme Leader” dripped out of your mouth as though it were an insult. One hand directed pain to Kylo, and your other inconspicuously reached for your lightsaber. You ignited it, immediately calling for your adversary to do the same.

You took the first step and glided your saber across his chest, slicing his tunic in a diagonal line. A monstrous roar bellowed from his helmet and for a moment you were afraid. He huffed and brought his lightsaber down upon you, which you missed. As both of you fought, tattered and on the brink of breakage, your complementary movements with one another mimicked that of a dance of two partners, each step coinciding with the next, and then the next after that, a mirror of two enemies.

You twirled backwards only to have him step forward, only for him to lean back as you launched forward in perfect harmony. It was clear at this point that it was impossible for either of you to best one another.

“No,” Kylo said as he twirled his lightsaber. “Not until I have what I want.”

“Sorry to ruin your day, then,” you smirked. You paused to watch him and listen to his thoughts. He was furious and convinced the Wayfinder was hidden in your palace. He was a beautiful monster hidden behind a mask, and you ached to see what face was under it. You hoped it would be attractive, at the very least. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

“What?” he barked, snapping his head.

“It’s nowhere near my palace,” you adjusted your grip on your lightsaber. “You’re wrong.”

“Get out of my head,” you could tell he was gritting his teeth. He stormed over to you, looking down at you once again. You gasped as you suddenly felt that familiar piercing, crushing pain at your windpipe. You squeaked and grasped at your neck. “You value your life, do you not?”

You scanned his appearance with desperate eyes for any sign of humanity- none. You nodded the best as you could, but all that showed up was a subtle head movement.

“That’s what I thought,” his invisible grip on your neck tightened then released you. You inhaled deeply and coughed, doubling over and falling onto your hands and knees. He enjoyed the sight, much to your surprise. “Do not mistake your breathing as of now as my sparing of your life. Your time will come.”

Kylo shut off his lightsaber and paced away from you and towards his stormtroopers, which surprisingly did a number against your own men. In the blurred, far distance, you noticed more trees were now on fire, as well as several small buildings. You rested your head on the wet ground as you watched his figure grew smaller the further he walked. You shut your eyes against the raging world around you, rage coursing through you and raindrops confusing with your now running tears.

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #the smut will come SOON I promise #agh I hope people read this

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curiousherbal · 4 years

Note

“you don’t understand it now, but I’m trying to protect you” with saeyoung? haha it suits him very well

Ohh thank you so much for being my first request! I am so sorry this took me awhile to deliver, but I really enjoyed writing it~~ please enjoy xx

This fic was tonally inspired by the beautiful song "You are the Moon" by one of my favourite bands -- The Hush Sound. I recommend listening to that to get the sort of mood I was in when writing this.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

The Gentle Grip of Night's Unfolding Arms

Mystic Messenger

*click title to read on ao3*

707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x Reader ; 707 / Luciel / Saeyoung Choi x MC

Hurt/Comfort

1.9 k

Rated: G ; panic attacks, crying, romantic tension

Summary: Despite it having been brewed two hours ago, the cup of tea on the bedside table wasn’t nearly as cold as the hacker sitting before you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

Despite it having been brewed two hours ago, the cup of tea on the bedside table wasn’t nearly as cold as the hacker sitting before you.

Though you’ve had your fair share of tumultuous events in your upbringing, the past couple hours spent in a dead girl’s apartment surely took the cake for being the most dramatic of the bunch.

One minute you were attempting to fix yourself a mug cake, and the next your phone was suddenly being virtually accosted with increasingly frantic calls and texts.

A sudden crash of breaking glass—

You, whipping your head to gaze incredulously at the broken window of the 14th floor apartment.

A pale, shaky hand with slender knob-knuckled fingers clamping over your mouth.

Erratic, moist breath hissing into your ear.

Bleached white hair tickling your neck.

A flash of ginger and widening honey coloured eyes.

And just like that, your hacker in shining black hoodie had arrived, saving you in the nick of time – as if the entire situation couldn’t get more movie-type cliché than it had already been.

But despite the whirlwind progression of the past 7 days’ events, your fairytale seemed to reach a premature climax.

The cause of your current grief sat on the cold, hardwood floor just meters before you. His headphones were clamped firmly over his ears, his eyes carefully downcast, silently refusing to put you at ease with even the slightest glance.

Not even temptations of steaming Earl Grey nor calming scents of chamomile could entice him.

You turned your cheek to rest it upon your knee, your eyes making vacant sweeps, circling the bright yellow rings on his hoodie.

No, your fated meeting with Seven was anything but what you had hoped it would be.

Seven was…. mean.

Seven was… unyielding.

Seven was… incapable of love??

You shook your head, desperately trying to stifle the telltale warning of tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. I knew him for what?? 7 days? Stop being so pathetic.

But even so, it would be futile to ignore the hurt that now permeated through your core, now plaguing your mind with anxious, restless, relentless thoughts.

You had tried to comfort him after the shock of seeing his long-long, now-tormented, brother:

“Give me some space.”

You expressed an honest desire for mutual expression of your shared emotional traumas:

“Don’t try to get so close to me.”

And, gritting your teeth, you had attempted to take care of him from a purely human-needs perspective:

“Maybe you should just pretend that I’m not here.”

So your tea sat cold. And his tea sat cold. You sat on the bed. And he sat on the floor. You plead silently with your troubled gaze. So he turned his back.

Both of you too stubborn twin stars, chasing the trailing end of one another, but always just slightest out of sync. The alignment of your traveled paths, something as uncertain as the mercurial man in front of you.

And now, here you sat. Your knees cradled to your chest; your arms wrapped loosely around your shins. And you contemplated the possibility that your premature and ill-fated first meeting with Seven had forever knocked you both out of each other’s orbits.

“Seven…”

The click-clack of his fingers over his keyboard persisted.

“Seven.”

Click clack. Click clack.

“I know you’re not ever listening to anything through those expensive headphones.”

His fingers stilled momentarily. A pause.

They resumed.

“You can’t ever listen to anything,” you began as you inhaled a shaky breath, unsure if engaging in conversation with the young man would worsen your already fractured relationship.

“—because you need to be aware of your surroundings. I know you’re purposefully ignoring me. I get it; you need to work, bud.”

Carefully, the hacker gently lifted his headphones off, resting them against his neck. He turned his head slightly to the left, as if to get you in his peripheral vision.

“Did you…. Did you just call me ‘Bud’?”

Your face flushed red.

“An honest mistake, I assure you.” You sniffed airily and turned so that you were lying back down on the bed, your back to him. “You made it quite clear that we aren’t ‘buds’ earlier.”

You waited for a response, hoping he’d dig into your subtle jab as bait, but as the seconds ticked into a full minute, you soon picked up on the faint typing sounds emanating from his corner again.

The pang of hurt realized itself deep within your chest cavity again. The prick of tears resurfaced once more. Your head began to pound.

He doesn’t even care. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He never liked me to begin with.

A cacophonous clatter of conflicting emotions welled within you.

Guilt – for being sad that Seven was neglecting you when he obviously had his own emotional issues with his brother so recently resurfaced.

Shame – for being so openly emotional and weakhearted around a boy you had barely known a full week, and had only just met in person several hours ago.

Embarrassment – for being a vulnerable target for a dignified charity establishment like the RFA.

Fear – the lingering tendrils of distress clawed at your insides, refusing to forget his white hands, his white hair, his empty eyes, the crash of glass shattering, your bruised wrists, your heightened breathing, your—

Oh.

I’m crying.

….

I’m… crying. I’m shaking.

I don’t know why…

A sob stole itself into the vacancy of the night. You curled yourself tightly into a fetal position, desperately trying to stifle the mortifying noise.

Why did I end up here? Why did this happen to me?

Your fingers clutched your aching sides tightly, your nails planting waxing crescents on your easy flesh.

Why don’t I deserve his compassion?

A choked noise betrayed your scratchy throat, dispelling into the room as something nothing more than a soft wheeze.

Why am I so stupid? What young adult female follows a stranger’s text to a foreign apartment?

Who am I to think that I’m important enough to be a part of any of these people’s lives?

I’m crying.

I’m shaking.

…

I’m crying… why does no one help?

I don’t deserve help.

I deserve to cry

I deserve to—

Cool hands cupped your face. Your eyes fluttered open. Your salty tears blurred the already dimly lit room.

I’m shaking.

Two golden irises swam into your field of vision, a rosy pair of lips moving, muttering something below.

I’m crying.

Why does no one help me?

Something cool and fleshy knocked against your forehead. Tears still blinded you from seeing anything intelligible.

Though your ears felt full of gauze, fragments of whispered speech made their way towards you.

“…hhhh… —eathe in…. k?”

Your head pounded. The tears shook your already trembling frame. Your temple felt like it might split from the sheer emotional pressure that you still attempted to conceal. What if Seven sees?? Then I’ll really be a burden…

“No…. it out…. –r me, please.”

The hushed timbre of a voice you were best acquainted with through the tinny speaker of a phone suddenly became recognizable.

You forced your watery eyes to open, the tears still unyielding to a fine focused picture. But the renewed mental clarity was enough. He was enough.

"Seven?" You made a feeble attempt to sit up, to compose yourself, to do anything to hide your mortification that he had caught you crying—

His hands immediately tightened their gentle grip on your weak frame, holding you firmly in place.

“I—" Seven paused when your red-rimmed gaze suddenly met his fully. Though you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t due to your own waterworks, your eyes widened further when you saw his gaze was returned to you with an unmistakable sheen to them as well.

“Please don’t cry…” Seven’s forehead was placed solidly against yours. His nose brushing the snotty tip of yours. His grip tightened minutely. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He whispered hoarsely.

You stilled in his makeshift embrace. Your torrent of emotions building in complexity at this most recent… yet not unwanted – development.

“It’s okay.” You finally decided.

“No, it’s not!” A stricken voice suddenly boomed in front of you, the cool forehead ripped from yours.

You flinched involuntarily, both the sound and the lack of cool pressure allowing your headache to resurface.

“Shit, no, I’m sorry.” Seven brought the corners of his palms to cover his eyes, the sloppy gesture skewing both his glasses and hair in the process. “I’m messing everything up,” he half mumbled to himself.

“…yeah.” You agreed softly without thinking twice.

You both froze.

Seven lowered his palms, his glasses still askew. You raised your eyes, meeting his self-deprecating gaze.

And then, miraculously, your star paths were knocked back into alignment.

The corners of his lips upturned in the gentlest amusement. You supplied your own involuntary grin in endearment to his apparent mirth.

Before you could crack another joke (in an unhealthy attempt to avoid talking about the situation at hand), Seven skillfully schooled his features and stood from the uncomfortable crouch that he had assumed at your side.

“Don’t be alarmed,” He walked to the other side of the bed, “I’m coming in.” The bed dipped; the covers shifted, and a warm presence announced itself behind you.

“Seven…”

“Shh.” You heard the click of his glasses folding as he took them off. A sleeved arm reached over your form and placed them on the bedside table closest to you.

“Seven…?”

“You don’t ever listen to me, do you?” He sighed good-naturally and relaxed his tense posture. His breath tickled the back of your neck. “Is this okay?” He finally whispered.

You allowed yourself a small smile, pleased that the young man felt comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable like this. “God yes.” You breathed shakily.

A soft huff. “God 7, yes.”

You rolled your eyes, forgetting that he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture anyway.

A thick silence fell upon the stuffy room. Your headache pounded mercilessly. Your lungs still struggled to fill to full capacity as your crying fit had effectively blocked your sinuses.

You were miserable.

You were also sad.

And you were confused, tired, a tiny bit irate, just a ton bit mortified, and worst of all, your heart still panged longingly in your hollow chest.

Just when you were about to ask Seven what the plan now was, the man broke the silence.

“You…” He nuzzled just the slightest breadth away from the back of your neck, sheer millimetres between his lips and the soft skin of your neck, “You don’t understand it now…”

Your eyes were trained steadily on the wall in front of you, afraid that if you moved or confronted Seven directly, he would be scared off easily like before.

You waited patiently for him to finish his thought.

A nervous hand brushed against the curve of your waist; a touch so gentle you weren’t entirely sure it was actually there. Deft fingers curved over your side, a silent question that you readily answered by releasing a relaxed sigh and turning your hips slightly back in invitation.

The hand snaked softly around your waist and rested on the bed in front of you, the arm it was attached to now effectively holding you in a spooning embrace. A solid, lithe chest pressed gently against your back. Lips finally caressed the back of your neck.

“…but I’m trying to protect you.”

Your breath hitched.

The arm around your waist squeezed tenderly. The bed dipped again and the embrace dissolved.

Padded footsteps made their way to the door, paused, and then left.

You lay motionless on your side as a lagging tear dropped from the corner of your eye and landed on the bridge of your nose.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　-: ✧ :-゜・．

ahh hope you enjoyed this not-entirely-satisfying fic! It was very cathartic to write, as I used my own experiences with crying in front of someone I loved and then not getting comfort as a tool when writing this. I have a lot of emotional trauma from situations where I was emotionally vulnerable with someone that I trusted/loved, and then they just sat there watching me cry without giving me any sort of comforting touches, embraces, tenderness, or words. ;__; It made me feel very helpless and alone, so while I left this purposefully unresolved, it was important to me to make sure that Seven did provide some comfort and tenderness and love to the reader. He just can't be entirely intimate with the reader/MC just yet, but worry not, he loves her deeply. <33 Please know that you deserve the comfort you seek, and you deserve to be with someone that can provide you with the most basic things that you need depending on your love language. My love language is heavily touch and caress-based, so that is the perspective I wrote from. have a soothing night lovelies xx

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woolspun · 4 years

Text

kiss drabble meme idk // not accepting // music inspo.

@yamausa said: (▰˘◡˘▰)

kith but fantasy au.

they’d been beaten down some earlier during a scuffle with a bunch of brigands, said robbers likely being ex ( or even current ) members of the local baron’s forces. the uniforms they donned were recognizable by the house emblem, though the clothing was... dirty. ruined, really. pockmarked just as badly as the outermost edges of etsu’s wings. the most humiliating part of it was that the dragon hadn’t even NOTICED them at first, though looking back, there’d been proof everywhere. remnants of houses and huts alike, burned till only the skeletons of the structures remained. the stench of death, though faded, clung to the air-- and with it, the choking smell of charred flesh. given that the dragon is a NATURAL fire-breather, she’s well aware of the damage that can be done with the element... but so many have decided to use it for EVIL. against the innocent. against people just trying to live their lives. as the sun overhead made its descent, the party’s cries to land grew louder and louder, the indignant squawking of a particular member causing a thundering rumble to roll through her body, scaled skin shuddering in response as the warning sounded. harpies. so ANNOYING. and so DEMANDING, too. she chooses a clearing within the woods to land within, limbs hitting the ground with a hefty-sounding thump, talons digging into the mixture of leaf litter, twigs and various plant life. a deep inhale of the air confirms that nothing is skulking about, though the scent of magic hangs within the air. it’s stale, so perhaps a nomadic grove of druids ? this sort of place looked like an area they’d want to travel through, perhaps using their abilities to try and heal the damaged land ? likely just a comforting thought. but also etsu KNOWS that she’s on high alert from the surprise attack earlier. ❝ here. i do believe that this area will be the safest. any survivors from that group we ran into earlier, they shouldn’t be able to find us here. i think we killed their only mage, meaning no surprise attacks again. ❞ as always, the others accept and set about making themselves comfortable. etsu gathers sticks and clears a spot, a singular exhale within her mortal form being all that it needs for a fire to jump to life. the others make themselves useful by gathering food or scavenging, if possible. might as well do the same. her sensitive nose could probably find something useful. a nasty cut to her cheek has already began sealing itself up, a thin line of scarlet being the only hint that something had happened. had etsu been slashed at in her true form, the blade likely wouldn’t even of gotten through her scales. pathetic. her feelings had distracted her. eyes like citrine stones were honed in on snow-colored hair, the strands long and straight, if not a little windswept at the front from the day-long flight to get to this part of the land. the over-sized lizard had been so caught up in admiring the one who practically WORSHIPED the ground she walked on, when really it should’ve been the other way around. etsu can feel it. the power that emanates from rumi’s form at all times of both the day and the night. it’s not NORMAL. no regular mortal gave off such a strong sensation, even a powerful mage couldn’t hold a flame to the barbarian queen. there was no doubt about it that rumi was something else, something... both mortal yet NOT. careful monitoring of the harpy ( hawks, his name was hawks ) confirms her thoughts on the matter, the bird man’s own behavior unique when around the woman. not in a ‘ oh, you’re beautiful and i want to kiss you ‘ sort of way, but more ‘ something isn’t right about you ‘ manner. metallic greaves clack against boots of the same make, the former-knight’s armor clattering here and there as she navigates through the thicket. it almost feels like home, though should she turn and glance behind her there’d be stone walls to greet her. etsu can’t help the weary exhale, but as the dragon inhales once again... wildflowers. close. several, if not hundreds. pupils dilate to allow as much light in as possible, splashes of color speckled betwixt the trees that lie just up ahead. would it perhaps be too cliché to snag a bunch and... deliver them to rumi ? the woman in question wasn’t a princess to be wooed, no, no. she was a queen. but then again, the last king that etsu had served, he’d send servants out ( she’d sometimes have to accompany them, for protection purposes ) to gather flowers to be made into arrangements for his wife. maybe this... this would work. or so etsu hopes as she meanders back into the makeshift camp that the others made. she gets a few eyebrows raised in her direction, but the cursed knight merely lifts her head and resumes her determined march to where rumi had wandered off to. it’s no surprise she’d settled at a nearby stream, tending to her weapons and washing the dried blood from her armor the best that she could. the rabbit woman’s ears twitched as etsu got closer, but the barbarian was familiar enough with the sound of her footsteps that she didn’t bother turning around. even as etsu settles herself down beside the queen, she stays focused on her task. ❝ i uh. i brought these. for..... you. ❞ a bundle of flora is offered out, the colors varying and clashing, but still managing to look... aesthetically pleasing. ❝ i thought that maybe they’d uh, they’d cheer you up ! you know, w-with everything we’ve been through these past few weeks. and i know that hawks has been getting on your nerves too — mmph ?! ❞ lips. they’re — they’re pushed against etsu’s own, easily melding together for a few seconds until the warmth is gone. the woman beside her is grinning from ear to ear, eyes crinkled shut in that way that etsu had gotten so fond of. ❝ did... did it work ? ah, haha, uhm. my lady, i... ❞ there’s a murmur of ‘ quit talking ‘ before the barbarian’s kissing her once again, though this time the duo’s lips don’t part save for the occasional breath of air.

#Ꮚ•ꈊ•Ꮚ ❝ TAKING TIME TO ANSWER FAN MAIL ! ❞ ( answers. )#yamausa #i changed the start like 3 times idk if it makes sense anymore LOL

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whumptasticwednesday · 5 years

Text

Insult to Injury ft. Dadneto (Peter Maximoff - X-Men)

Author’s Note: Hey, ya’ll. I’ve been burning the midnight oil to get this fic out on time, AKA 2 consecutive nights of staying up till’ 3 am. I’ve had the idea for a Peter-centric Dadneto whump fic for a decent amount of time, and after receiving a lovely anonymous prompt, I decided to incorporate both my idea and theirs. Here we’ve got Peter after the events of Apocalypse, debilitated, and accidentally giving himself a nasty case of salmonella, before Erik comes to help. I’m pretty proud of this one, so I hope you enjoy it! This fic is unedited, sorry, so please let me know if there’s any glaring issues. For my next fic, I’m shifting away from X-Men for a hot sec so I can write a nice Detroit: Become Human whump fic with our favorite android son, Connor. I’ve been super excited about my plot concept, so I’m ecstatic to start writing it. Anyways, I hope you like this one, I worked very hard on it, and I hope you’re all excited for the DBH fic coming soon!

-Ash

Word Count: 6299

Warning: Emeto and decently graphic descriptions of physical illness

Setting: Post-Apocalypse/Pre-Dark Phoenix

If there's anything Peter Maximoff knew in this moment, it was that not being able to do the one thing your body was genetically enhanced to do, sucked. A lot.

It had been only a few days since the X-Mansion had been rebuilt and things all fell back into this synonymous routine as if the entire building hadn't exploded a short while ago. In Peter's opinion, it was all kind of creepy how easy it seemed for these kids to all just go back to learning when their home and school just got eviscerated in a hellfire, but he didn't think much of it.

All he could think about in this moment, was how immensely bored he was. Peter always had something going on with him; he was either thinking about his impending dad-related issues, plotting a prank, or deciding to go off and steal an entire Walmart's worth of Twinkies in the blink of an eye, there was always something.

Yet now, the rest of the X-Men were off with Charles helping cover up heat from the international press by cleaning up all the damage and destruction in Cairo and showing what Charles had dubbed: "diplomacy", which was too huge of a word for Peter to ever use in an everyday sentence; too many letters, and Peter was left back at the mansion since he really couldn't use his powers effectively at the moment, so it would be pretty useless for him to be tagging along.

Peter normally wouldn't have given a damn, maybe even excited at the prospect of being able to rig his friends' rooms with elaborate traps with Jello and staplers or something of the sorts while they weren't around, yet now, when faced with inescapable boredom that followed him wherever his broken leg did (everywhere), he was dying to have anything to do. As the team was suiting up to get on the jet to go back to Cairo, Peter had pathetically hobbled down to the X-Men bunker on his crutches, begging to be taken with. But they'd simply gassed up the plane and flew off, leaving Peter alone, and oh so very bored.

Which brings us to Peter now, attempting to create an omelette with 6 different cheeses, 8 different and poorly-diced peppers, a heaping assortment of minced tomatoes, and a sprinkling of those off-brand fruit snacks that are always better than the on-brand ones for some reason. It wouldn't be a Peter breakfast without some form of sweet, and in his eyes, it stuck to the healthy-ish theme. It had fruit in the name for a reason, didn't it?

The kid always had a massive appetite, and everyone that knew Peter knew this as well. You'd be hard pressed to find him without some snack or form of sustenance in his hand, scarfing it down like there was no tomorrow. It was all a byproduct of his enhanced metabolism. All that energy to run had to come from somewhere, didn't it? Little did he know, this super stomach of his would come to kick him in the ass in a few short hours. But for now, the silver-haired man child of a mutant was limping around the mansion's kitchen making a very... exotic breakfast for dinner meal.

Peter plopped the strange looking (decently gooey) excuse for an omelette into a large plate with some Twinkies and orange juice on the side. As he devoured his dinner, Peter thought anxiously about Erik. It had taken him 10 years to connect the dots, work up the courage, and even think of confronting the man to tell him of his true parentage, yet wimped out at the last minute, leaving the ambiguous: "I'm here for my family too." Peter groaned audibly to himself as his mind once again replayed the events he'd already replayed a million times before. It was embarrassing as all hell. Luckily, nobody that did know told Erik anything, which Peter was very grateful for.

Imagine learning about a woman you left 2 and a half decades ago actually birthing a son you had no idea existed and just now learned of... but not from him, despite several encounters beforehand where he had ample opportunities to do so. It'd make Peter feel like even more of a loser than a 27 year old who still lived in his mother's basement. But, to be fair, Peter was no longer a grown man living with his mom, he was a grown man living in a school where he was many years past the oldest enrolled student, while not teaching a single class; it was a step up from the basement, trust me.

Once finished with his omelette, Peter quickly washed his dishes and made his trek up the small flight of stairs to reach his room on the second floor. Over the past few days, Peter had learned just how high a set of stairs could be, especially when you end up falling down them on several attempts to slide down the handrail (and failing miserably while being laughed at by dozens of impressionable pre-teen children.) What a loser.

After reaching his room, particularly winded from this dinner excursion, Peter was grateful to see that he hadn't unplugged his television from the wall after his embarrassing fall in an attempt to get to the bathroom by himself, without his crutches, or the lights on. A simple recipe for disaster in nearly all circumstances, yet for some reason, the universe held pity for Peter and his debilitated state, and decided to not make his day any worse than it already was.

Peter ultimately decided to entertain himself with a good night-long play session of Pac-Man on his Atari 2600, also still miraculously undamaged from last night's fall. He booted up the inferior version of the game (seriously though, he'd have to get Kurt to help him teleport his arcade cabinet from his basement to the school, playing this one was getting a bit tiring on the eyes.) It sufficed, he thought as the TV harshly flashed on.

Now normally, Peter would have been up all night with his video games and rock music blaring in the background, yet tonight, something (besides his immobile leg) felt really off. Each distinct 'WOMP' from the console as the yellow circle man consumed the dashes and dots felt like a sledgehammer into Peter's eardrums, leaving a resonating ache at the base of his skull. He didn't think much of it and brushed it off, simply turning down his music a notch and backing away from the TV a few inches.

The next confusing sign that something wasn't quite right was the disconcerting shivers wracking his body. A chilly breeze seemed to sweep the room as if the AC was on full blast with the windows open on a November midnight, yet it was July and all the windows were closed and when he went to check if his AC unit was acting up, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. That's whack, Peter thought to himself as he plopped onto his bed, Atari abandoned on the rugged floor.

He didn't know how long he spent staring at the unmoving chandelier hanging lamely from the ceiling, but it felt as if seconds later, the room was not only freezing, but spinning, and suffocating. Everything felt way too close. Peter could feel every fiber of his shirt rubbing against his jacket, the itchy inside of his cast pressing up against the entirety of his right leg, and the presence of his goggles resting on his neck, now seeming like a noose closing in on his throat. He hastily tore off the eyewear and tossed them on his nightstand before deciding to shed his jacket and weakly throwing it across the room. Another move he regretted.

Without the jacket to keep his arms warm, the newfound seemingly frosty atmosphere felt like a icy flurry against his skin. In spite of his mind's confused wishes, Peter ripped the heavy blanket off the end of the bed and closed it around himself like a caterpillar ready to emerge as a butterfly the next time it saw the daylight. Peter sure as hell didn't feel like a caterpillar, but if the feeling of metamorphosis was a growing sense of intense nausea and cramping in the stomach, then hell yeah, he was crushing this butterfly business.

Fuck, what's wrong with me?! He thought to himself as he rolled onto his side. Peter rubbed at his eyes, hoping to clear the dizziness, yet only further irritating them. God damnit, he sighed internally as his face scrunched up in discomfort, releasing one of his hand's hold on the blanket to cradle his aching stomach.

"Is this karma for all that shit I stole when I was younger? That's just mean, man," Peter rasped to nobody in particular. He thought about it more though and responded to his own question, "Then again, I think that's pretty fair. Haha...Shit, man. Never thought I'd say this, but I think... I think I need help."

The sledgehammer-like headache was pounding with every bass drum beat lightly emanating from the sound system Peter hadn't turned off, another move he regretted. He couldn't decide if the pros outweighed the cons: hobbling through the dark to possibly remedy a source of his suffering, but relinquishing his hold on the only thing keeping him from feeling like freezing. Peter played it safe, much to his cranium's dismay.

Peter stared off towards the wall at nothing in particular as he tried oh so hard to draw his mind's focus from how terrible he felt to literally anything else. It wasn't working out so well. And so, Peter laid there, blanket tossed over himself, single leg drawn up to his chest, shivering like a leaf in a rainstorm, as nauseous as a toddler who just rode their first roller coaster, feeling like he was about to cry, and alone. What a miserable way to spend the night.

------

If there's anything Erik Lehnsherr knew in this moment, it was that he was beyond irritated that Charles wasn't at the mansion to run his own school. Despite leaving the school once he'd helped rebuild it to try and seek solitude to wrap his mind around his place in the world and everything that'd happened to him, Erik was back at the mansion once again. He was ready to lay down the foundations for his new mutant hideaway, Genosha, and needed Charles's connections to the government to help smooth over his charges and get clearance to have his isolated society where he might truly find happiness and solace. The universe had spoken, and he obviously wasn't cut out to be a nuclear family kind of guy.

Unbeknownst to him, Erik had once again meandered into a setting with his unrealized son. Also unbeknownst to him, that son was currently cooped up alone in his room, feeling like death.

Erik uncomfortably paced around the mansion, checking Charles's office, the X-Men bunker, and all the other places he might have been, yet the telepath was nowhere to be found. Erik sighed, he knew coming this late was a bargain, one, it turns out, he'd come to lose. The school itself was eerily quiet. It was if the entire mansion was empty or something. Peaceful, yet unsettling for a man who knew nothing but chaos.

Erik was about to borrow a book someone had abandoned in the foyer when he heard the muffled melodies of American rock music echoing from the upstairs floor. It must be that problematic Peter child, Erik thought to himself. From what he told himself was a civil duty to the rest of the sleeping kids in the school (but was actually his own way to cope with his curiosity) Erik decided to check up on the snarky young man to ask if he'd turn down the tunes.

As he approached the door, Erik was bracing himself for something extremely untamed. Perhaps a messy, greasy slophole of a living area, or maybe a drunk and uncontrollably obnoxious man dancing to his music in the nude. You never really knew with Peter, and Erik had come to expect the strangest out of the boy from the few genuine interactions they've had.

Erik gently tapped his knuckles against the door, waiting patiently for a 'come in', or something along the lines of those words, yet it never came. Raising a questioning yet not too surprised eyebrow, Erik knocked again, using slightly harder bangs, not wishing to make a ruckus and wake anyone else in the hallway up. Again, nothing. Although it could have simply boiled down to Peter not hearing him from his loud and abhorrent music, Erik was growing slightly irritated with the lack of a response. So with his last reserves of patience, he knocked one final time, once again listening for a signal or cue to enter. He was met with nothing yet again.

Wondering for the worst and fully expecting to meet a blackout drunk Peter when he opened the door, Erik tentatively jiggled the doorknob, which just so happened to be unlocked, and stepped inside. Thankfully, he was not met with a naked dancing or woefully drunk mutant speedster, but most would probably argue that what he was met with was quite worse. And that being a rancid stench of sick and sour nastiness lingering in the air, a poorly plopped pile of blankets draped over the culprit of the odor, and the culprit himself lying pale and flushed on the floor beside his bed, covered in his own vomit.

Erik's nose crinkled up from being met by the strongly nauseating smell of the room, reaching for the light switch on the wall to aid the sad little table lamp and glow of the TV in illuminating the room. Now he truly saw the pity-worthy situation for what it was. Peter laid in a heap on the ground next to his bed; he'd clearly trying to make it to the en suite bathroom just a few feet away. However, with his dizzy mind and immobile leg, he didn't make it very far and ended up expelling his dinner in a much less... dignified location (if you could consider a toilet bowl a very dignified location), that undignified location being all over his lap and onto his faded Pink Floyd t-shirt.

Not knowing how to really handle the situation, Erik called out a soft, "Peter?" hoping to elicit a response. Yet, just like at the door, he was met with nothing. As he approached the boy, thoughts of anxiety and panic circled through his mind. What would he say to him when he woke up? Would he be uncomfortable with Erik of all people coming to help? Would he be confused? Would he not care? He felt undeniably and inexplicably awkward. Erik shook the thoughts from his conscious as he knelt down to try and meet Peter's face.

"Peter?" he asked again. Erik tentatively reached over to tap the boy's face, which was contorted in a pinched expression of discomfort, marred further by the vomit drying in a trail down his chin.

Once Erik's hand made contact with Peter's cheek, he wanted to retract it. From the split second interaction, Erik had felt the clammy, sweaty, and scorching hot skin and was growing concerned. The slight physical prodding finally made Peter respond.

"Mom?" he asked groggily, voice cracking, "I'll put my dishes in the sink in a minute... I'm tired..."

Erik let out a harsh sigh, bending his neck in an attempt to make eye contact with the boy.

"Peter, I'm not you-" Erik was cut off.

"Yeah yeah... I'm not your maid. I know, Ma. Just... give me five."

"Peter." Erik stated bluntly yet with a hint of unease, unsure if Peter was delirious or just messing with him, "look at me, please."

Peter cracked open his eyes and blearily met Erik's stoic and collected face. He blinked a few times, slowly and deliberately, calculating who was kneeling in front of him, before letting out a weak and wheezy chuckle, "hey there, refrigerator ornament. Wassup?"

Erik rolled his eyes, responding with, "I came to ask you to turn down your atrocious music so you won't wake any of the other children who are trying to sleep. When I came in here, you were passed out on the floor. Would you like to explain to me what happened?"

"Nah... it isn't all too interesting"

"Peter, can you please act like an adult for 2 minutes? Please?"

"Oh man, the Nazi-hunting, president-killing, horseman of the Apocalypse is bustin' out the PLEASES. Look out, world, Lord of the Vacation Souvenirs has a new tactic... MANNERS!"

Peter burst out laughing at his own adolescent joke, ending in a wheezy struggle to catch his own breath. Erik couldn't tell if he was just screwing with him or genuinely needed help. This behavior seemed pretty normal for the immature mutant.

"Look, Peter, I really just need to know if you're okay. Can you answer that simple question, please?"

"Man, your tactics are workin' like a charm. I guess I'll tel-" Peter was cut off by a repulsing gag, hunching over and expelling his stomach's contents... again, this time, however, onto Erik's shirt, quickly travelling in a sad trail down onto his freshly-ironed pants. Peter's bloodshot eyes went side with embarrassment as he quickly transitioned his gaze to the floor.

Erik's face was caught frozen still as his mind caught up with what had just happened. As repulsed as he was, it wasn't like he hadn't seen worse. But that still didn't make the fact that he was just puked on any less disgusting. After audibly exhaling through his nose, Erik once again focused on the miserable man child in front of him, who was now anxiously tapping his fingernails on the hard plaster of his cast, deliberately trying to avoid eye contact.

God damnit, Peter, He thought to himself as he continued tapping, it's bad enough leaving him with a painfully ambiguous response during a battle to save all of humanity, ultimately ruining a perfectly good chance to fess up, but now look what you've done. You fucking threw up on him. Peter felt himself growing smaller as his subconscious shamed him for his uncontrollable bout of illness. It was stupid and ultimately all in his head, but it didn't make him feel any less shit about his situation.

After taking the few quiet seconds, Erik stood up, and whether it was out of pity or some subconscious moral quest, grabbed Peter by the armpits and dragged him to the bathroom.

"W-what the?" Peter asked, confused by the harsh white light of the bathroom and the sudden shift in scenery.

"Well I'm not going to let you sit in your own disgusting clothes. I have standards, you know. Can you undress yourself? I'll get us both some clean clothes."

Peter grunted in response. It meant: yeah, I think I can take off my own clothes, bro... once the room stops spinning. Erik, however, had already up and left, stripping off his own soiled shirt and rifling through Peter's dresser drawers, and taking the opportunity to flick off the television and silence the music that had been awkwardly filling the room's background space up until now.

Peter didn't have much variety in his clothing, dark jeans and band logo t-shirts were most of his dresser's arsenal. Not wishing to be clad in a Metallica shirt for the rest of the night, he dug a bit further into the seemingly endless assortment of shirts till he found a plain white short sleeve, sighing in relief. He grabbed a random shirt from the top of the assortment which just so happened to have the Journey logo on it, and set off to find new pants for the boy.

Back in the bathroom, Peter was still laying slumped against the bathtub, shivering. Everything around him had seemingly slowed to a halt, not unlike when he was running past the speed of sound, but this time deceleration just felt... wrong.

The crashing rhythm of the rock music had come to a halt, yet it didn't cease the incessant throbbing ache in his head, as if the bass riffs and the harsh taps of the snare were on a permanent loop with earbuds permanently glued to his ears. He was trying his best to prevent himself from groaning or whining as to not sound like even more of a child in front of Erik, but honestly, he didn't want his nonexistent father right now, he wanted his mom.

Peter was snapped from his self loathing by Erik's footfalls growing progressively louder as he approached him. Erik had thrown on a pair of track pants and a random white shirt. He was holding a pair of sweatpants and another shirt for Peter so he could be free of his sweat-slick and vomit-covered clothes.

"Hey, you don't get to keep those. I like those pants," Peter stated sarcastically, still trying to put up a front, although he was unsure why. He'd needed help, it was painfully obvious, so why was he still pushing his father away? Resentment? Anger? Pride? No... fear.

"Arms up," Erik instructed, preparing to take Peter's shirt off for him.

"Yo, you know I'm not a toddler, right? I can take off my own god damn shirt."

"You sure don't act like you're a day older than one, and I don't wanna risk you accidentally suffocating getting stuck in your own clothing so... arms up."

Peter sighed and did as he was told. Erik swiftly peeled the top off the boy and felt around his back, finding it clammy and warm. As if he'd just went from the tropics to Antarctica, the shirt leaving his skin exposed his skin to a whole new level of cold. The sensation ripped through his spine as his teeth started chattering. Hoping Erik had a brain underneath that skull, Peter was (im)patiently waiting for the man to save him from the frosty winds of his newly installed Arctic bathroom and slip the new shirt over him already. However, much to Peter's dismay, Erik turned on the tub's faucet, soaking a hand towel in cold water before leaning over and placing it on Peter's exposed back.

The second the frigid cloth made contact with his skin, Peter recoiled, back arching backwards, arms frantically bending to try and remove it. Erik sighed, slightly out of pity, and continued holding it down.

"Is this some cruel punishment? What did I do?" Peter pleaded, hoping to distract himself from crying by use of humor.

"You're scorching and sticky and it's just disgusting. I'm cooling you down, so relax," Erik explained. "It'll be a few more seconds, I just needed to get all the sweat off of you."

And as quickly as it had begun, the endeavor was over and Erik was threading Peter's strikingly pale and flimsy arms through the shirt holes. Peter audibly sighed, feeling like he'd just spent an hour in an industrial freezer and was now back into a normal temperature.

Erik's eyes drifted to Peter's legs, immediately noticing a flaw in his plan. How was he going to change Peter's pants with that full leg cast?

"Peter, how do you typically change your pants considering your current... situation?" Erik asked.

"It's pretty simple. I don't," Peter replied bluntly.

"W-what?"

"Well, after I got my leg set a few days ago, I changed into jeans, not wanting to be in flight suit pants for the next week of my life, and I haven't swapped since. It's like, physically impossible."

"So... you've been wearing the same (disgustingly dirty) pants all week?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Hank says I should be grateful that it'll heal in a couple days, most people you'd find passed out on their floor covered in vomit with a full leg cast would have been wearing their nasty pants for weeks."

Erik sighed, tossing Peter's soiled shirt and the sweatpants back into the bedroom before meeting his gaze.

"Alright, Peter, I'm going to set you up in bed now."

"Sounds grea-" Peter was once again, clamping his hand over his mouth, pathetically dragging himself over to the toilet to prevent throwing up all over himself again.

Erik saw his distress and lifted the toilet lid and seat, prompting Peter to start heaving into the sad and dreary porcelain bowl. Each dry or productive heave sent another pulsing wave of pain and violent nausea from his stomach to seemingly every conceivable inch of his body in a viscous cycle of suffering. Erik could do nothing but watch as the silver-haired boy wretched in agony, each heave causing his breath to hitch, caught in his throat, as another bout of sick rushed up past his lips, crashing into the toilet bowl.

Erik wanted to reach over and rub Peter's back or offer a semblance of physical comfort for the anguish he must have been feeling. He'd often do this for his daughter, Nina, whenever she had a stomach bug. Erik reached out his hand, only to quickly retract it, shaking haunting thoughts from his mind. This boy was not his child, and in no way would he ever come close to being Nina. What was he thinking?

Guilt quickly overtook the memories as Peter finished his session of sickness. He sagged limply against the side of the toilet, face still partially hidden by the rim of the bowl. When he looked up at Erik, he looked awful. Beyond awful.

Red-rimmed eyes, clearly there as Peter attempted to stop the obvious tears from spilling over, met cool yet collected ones, the former's being full of pain, not just from this embarrassment or the physical turmoil he'd just endured, but something else. Erik knew those eyes. He knew them because for so long, they were the ones he'd stared at in the mirror, day after day, for years, until he'd found Charles, only to come face to face again with those demonized eyes in the form of an immature mutant puking his guts out on his bathroom floor. They were the eyes of a young man who was lost, feeling alone, hiding a part of themselves they wanted to let go, to set free, so they could truly be happy, yet he couldn't possibly decipher what could be internally destroying the boy.

"I-I'm sorry you had to watch that..." Peter said softly as his head lolled over.

"It's fine," Erik replied with a tone to match that of Peter's.

"I'm pretty sure... that I'm done. For now?" It came out as more of a question, but at this point, Peter wasn't trusting any signal his body was sending him. Every impulse had been smudged and cloudy in his mind, and paired with the seemingly endless headache and the relentless chills racking his body from the fever, Peter was sure that if his mind were a computer hard drive, it would have self destructed out of a deadly virus slowly hacking into the hardware.

But alas, Peter was no computer, and so he was stuck with this mystery illness, cooped up in his room, unable to run, with Erik mother-hecking Lehnsherr. His fever-addled mind was barely functioning at this point, so he didn't register anything but dizzying blurred images swirling around his head and slightly-grumbled voice swimming in his ears as Erik scooped the kid up like a newlywed bride and carried him off to bed.

Peter had never been more grateful to grace the comfort of his duvet, ready to sleep. He halfheartedly grabbed at it in an attempt to cover himself and finally warm up. Erik sighed with pity, grabbing it for him and draping it over his shoulders before moving over to stand by the nightstand and awkwardly watching Peter try and get comfortable.

Despite the obvious fact that his body wanted him to sleep, Peter's mind was racing everywhere except the realm of unconsciousness. Every thought was emphasized ten-fold as it bounced around his head until the only things remaining were his want, heck, his need, to tell Erik the truth, and the hesitant and unsure anxiety lingering in the background of his subconscious that was stopping him from doing just that.

Fevers, though, as Peter was quickly learning, tended to do weird shit to what your brain was really trying to accomplish, often scrambling any message you tried to expel to the point where it may or may not have even been your true intentions. And hell, it was an even bigger gamble if you'd remember any of the dumb shit you'd done or said. It was as if the heat had boiled all the potentially embarrassing memories away, which was at least kinda nice.

With everything happening, Peter thought it best for Erik to just pack up and scoot from the premises, as not to accidentally say or do something stupid that might come back to bite him in the ass later, but Peter wasn't about to pull an asshole move on the man who'd just helped him despite not being obligated to at all.

So, instead of verbally asking, Peter did the next most "mature" thing he could have in his debilitated and helpless situation. He pretended to be asleep in a pathetic hope that Erik would leave on his own. He didn't. Peter ended up looking like he was trying way too hard to be asleep than any real asleep person, and after a few minutes, Erik caught on.

"Peter, I know you're not actually sleeping," Erik said, not putting on any sort of specific emotion.

Peter cracked one red and tired eye open, meeting Erik's gaze yet again. Peter sighed and turned over onto his side, back to the other man, bleary eyes trying to focus on anything that wasn't Erik. Sleep, a seemingly effortless task for most, eluded Peter as he let out an a low whine. This was miserable.

"Hey, Erik?"

"Yes?"

"I umm... never mind..."

"What were you going to say?"

"It's nothing... I just feel stupid since I can't even do the easiest thing on the planet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

The question struck Peter like a cold dagger to the heart, it sounded so much like something his mom would say, who was practically the only person he wanted in that moment. Peter didn't like to be weak or expose any of his fears. He preferred to be distant and reserved, to hide all that insecurity with stupid dry humor and sarcasm. His mom and his sisters were really the only ones who he'd truly been open with, and when faced with these new circumstances, finally able to reconnect with the father he never had, he was frozen in place, and after pushing people away and closing himself off for so long, not knowing what to do to reach out and truly face what he needed to.

Completely internally and externally overwhelmed, Peter let his dam of pride burst, letting his emotional flood pour out of his eyes in the form of earnest, choked sobs. He bit his lip and weakly rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to hide his distress.

Erik was taken aback, taking a step towards him, before backpedaling as fast as the initial paternal instinct had seized him. He didn't know what to do. Erik was conflicted, scared of overstepping boundaries, but wholeheartedly wanting to comfort the clearly suffering boy lying in bed in front of him.

And in a flash of instinct, an unspoken, deep-rooted, yet unknown draw towards the silver-haired boy, Erik sat down on the mattress, back meeting Peter's, and leaning over his shoulder to rub his back

Erik's hand was shaky, unsure if it should truly be there. He felt the heat radiating off Peter's skin through his t-shirt. Erik glanced down further to Peter's face, and despite the hands trying (and failing) to cover his eyes, saw it covered in a new sheen of sweat quickly mixing with his tears, pale and pasty with angry crimson patches sitting pretty as pictures on his cheeks and forehead. Everything in that moment accentuated both how awfully awkward Erik and truly terrible Peter felt.

Erik didn't even know if Peter was lucid anymore. He was breaking down into tears, shivering and being comforted by someone who was practically a stranger. Eventually, the sobs dwindled into whimpers and Erik's nerves were starting to taper off himself. The room fell into a weirdly calm silence as the two decided to not say anything. Until Peter's shaky voice cut through the room.

"Y-you know... when I was a dumb little kid, I thought I-I could outrun germs. Look at me now. I can't even cook a f-freakin' omelette without making myself sick... I never needed to cook for myself, it was always my mom, or Hostess cakes."

"..." Erik wanted to say something, anything, but he was unsure what, or if Peter would understand.

"I can't do anything right... life tosses me chances and I just fuck em' all up."

Erik soon realized Peter was no longer talking about his omelette, but something deeper.

"I just wish... you could've d-done this for me when I was still that dumb little kid. I wish for so much to be different. I'd always wanted a d-dad, and when I finally figured out who he was, I learn he'd gone off to kill the president! I-I don't know..."

"W-what?"

"I m-might not be able to outrun germs, but my entire l-life, I've outrun everything. The law, my responsibilities, adulthood... But now, the one time when I finally can't run from anything, out of all of my problems, I gotta face you of all things. N-not the way I thought this would happen..." Peter's words died out as he fell silent.

Erik wasn't sure he'd heard Peter properly. Until something in his mind clicked. Everything he's done up until now: "my mom once knew a guy who could do that..." and "I'm here for my family too..." Oh my god, he thought, I'm... I-I'm Peter's... father? Who else had he been with before his wife... Magda. Oh god.

Erik pulled his hand away from Peter's back. This caused Peter to moan and flip onto his back, staring directly at Erik, eyes cutting straight to his heart like knives.

"W-why'd you stop? It was nice..." Peter admitted shyly.

"I-I need a second, Peter. I'm sorry," Erik sighed as he pushed himself off the mattress.

Peter said nothing as his eyes drifted back to his bedspread. Disappointment lurking behind his bloodshot irises.

Erik walked off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He stared up at himself in the mirror, hands gripped tightly around the basin. This couldn't be happening. Not after Nina, not again. Erik was just... terrified. Terrified of the idea of getting close again. Anyone who's ever been a part of Erik's family... had died. His parents, his wife, his daughter; he didn't want Peter to join the list of people the universe was just deemed to kill. He knew that Peter was far from dying, it was a simple fact that the kid couldn't cook and he'd fed himself something underdone. Yet, it was all happening, it was all too fast, and everything felt so damn scary.

He knew, deep down, that this was the truth. It only made sense that the Magda didn't wanna tell her son that his dad was an internationally targeted terrorist that's murdered dozens of people, and this kid had no reasons to lie about it. God... Erik didn't know how to feel, what he should do, but he did know that had a need to comfort Peter, who'd just confessed a secret he'd been hiding for who knows how long, and was now laying alone, probably feeling abandoned again, after pouring his heart out knowing full well it might be shot down.

Whether it was all intentional was yet to be seen. Again, fevers did weird shit.

Erik let out a low sigh and opened the door, finding Peter curled up on himself as best he could, softly whining, mumbling incoherently to himself. Erik stepped over and sat down on the bed again, the entire mattress dipping from his weight.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I am very happy you told me..." Erik was searching for the right words, "the truth."

" 'r welc'm" Peter mumbled as his puffy eyelids slid over his tired brown eyes.

"Is there anything you need me to do for you right now?"

"J'st... stay please. I-It's embarassin', I know, but I just... my mom used to do it..."

"Alright, Peter. I'm not gonna leave, so just try to sleep, okay?"

Peter didn't need to be told twice as his mind and body worked in harmony, finally allowing Peter to be lulled off to the realm of unconsciousness. And although he knew it wasn't necessary, Erik wished to add to the intimacy of this quiet moment, a type of moment so rare and inconstant in both of their lives, so he pushed himself up against the headboard, laying out flat on the bed, and carded his fingers into Peter's silky silver locks. And out of habit, maybe a sort of tendency he'd developed from doing it with Nina, or an obligation to share what he felt Peter deserved, he began to hum his family lullaby, ever so slowly and softly, drowning out any other thing the world wanted to toss at them. Because in that moment... Erik and Peter had found something they'd both been missing for so long, peacefulness and contentment. And for that short night, it was all they needed.

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sunsetsinhoenn · 5 years

Note

could you do a scenario for a first kiss with Lance? Sorry if you have done this before! Your blog is fantastic btw!

This had the potential to be really sappy, which I feel like I haven’t written a lot of in a while, so I tried to go crazy with this. I don’t think I went about as crazy as I wanted to, but I blame that on being so tired. on that note, please excuse any mistakes or typos for the time being. I read over it, but I might’ve missed some errors.

scenario _ first kiss _ Lance

There were some things that were out of your control. The traumas of your past, the ups and then again with the downs; most of the things that have happened to you weren’t because you willed it into existence or because you wanted it to happen. They happened because they simply did.

“Hey, Lance? Do you have a second?’

“Of course, what do you need?”

You were out at a charity event at the request of your close friend, who was expected to show and deliver a speech as reigning champion of Kanto and Johto. He needed a familiar face in the crowd, he said. Someone that would calm his nerves. Little did he know that helping him with his supposed ‘stage fright’ would only end up making yours pick up in return, making the heat pool across your face as if the room was suddenly ten degrees warmer.

“So…” You turned around with a clip-on mic in one hand, coming up to him. Before you had the chance to think too much about it, you were already grabbing him by the front of his outfit, fixing the mic in place. “I’m placing the mic on you for when you go onstage. Don’t worry about whatever you say now until you get up there, the sound guys will make sure they can hear you as soon as you start.”

You ended your task by patting him gently near the mic, looking up at him afterwards. He had a gentle smile on his face that made your heart melt and your mind scream at you to get away. It was too nice of a smile from someone who was just your friend. Just your friend. For what seemed like the millionth time in just the span of twenty minutes since you had been there, you could feel the blush spreading again. Paranoid suddenly that someone else would see the two of you and begin to gossip, you looked around the room, noting how the few people that were there were too busy setting up for all of the guests.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I might sound like a broken record, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh. O-oh, yeah?” Stupidly, you looked back up at him, a nervous smile on your face. The only reason you hadn’t run away was because you knew he was too dense to understand how you felt towards him. You had been crushing on the man for several months now, if he couldn’t figure it out before, he wasn’t going to anytime soon. You hit the side of his arm lightly, acting friendly instead of lovestruck. “Anything for you, Lance.”

You began to turn away, speaking about another task that you were going to help out with before everything started. Something about making sure the cords were taped along the floor and then how the food table needed to be stocked, etc., etc. Lance only nodded, knowing full well that you were keeping yourself busy for the sake of charity. But he winked at you before turning around, his cape flurrying behind him as he walked off to do something of his own.

Winked? That wasn’t right. You had to be imagining that.

You shrugged and shook your head, moving on. You had things to do. No need for feelings. Not right now. Not here. Or… anywhere. Not with Lance. Your close friend. Your handsome frie- Your friend! Your friend. Your oblivious friend.

You sighed, voice echoing out with it, turning it into a groan. You just needed to get through the day. After this, the two of you would likely not see each other for another week or so. You both led busy lives that needed your separate attention, which was both a blessing and a curse.

“Next, we have a wonderful guest with us today. To advocate for our cause, I present you with the Pokemon League Champion, Lance!”

It didn’t take long for the party to start, which was exactly what you figured it would be. Maybe the people there were actually attending for the free food and good company and it was their only reason to even donate, or maybe they were there to help and decided that they also wanted to have a good time. Either way, it was lively. And you somehow opted to only mingle when approached, leaving you with a cup in your hand and no one to bother.

It was a good thing that you were able to have the speakers of the charity be your excuse for not talking, but seeing your… romantic interest up there, having everyone’s attention on him made you feel… jealous? Upset? Lame? Tired because everyday without calling him yours made your heart hurt? Pathetic, you thought. Should’ve just told him how you felt a long time ago. It’s your fault you’re jealous.

And the way he caught your eye amongst the many in the crowd? You knew what he was thinking. I’m glad I have such a wonderful friend with me today, he would say. When he smiled at you from his spot up there, you smiled back and gave him a subtle thumbs up. Then he began talking.

You admired him for his honesty. For his advocacy and his confidence. It was infectious and if there were any bad apples in the crowd, you were sure that they might be second-guessing their ways. He was just that kind of man. So chivalrous and brave. Handsome. Incredibly handso-

“UUUUUUGHHHH, oh my god! Shut up!”

Again, you managed to get yourself so caught in your thoughts that the main event was over and you were in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your thoughts were driving you crazy today, more than ever. Lance this, Lance that. You wanted it to be over. No more thinking of the handsome man outside that said he wanted to talk to you, but you panicked and said you had to pee first. Awesome. He was never going to like you. You silly… fool of a person. He was just being ni-

“Holy shit! Stop! Stop!”

You splashed some water on your face. No more thoughts.

You left the bathroom, hand resting on your forehead in exasperation.

“Are… you okay, (Y/N)? Are you not feeling well?”

“I-“ He was still standing in the same stop you left him at, arms crossed and worried. You let your hand drop, shaking your head. “I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.”

“Did you want to head outside? I can treat us both to dinner later, as thanks for coming with me today.”

You nodded, walking towards the exit with Lance following next to you.

“Actually, I think I’ll take you up on your offer. The food was good, but not enough to keep my stomach from growling for the rest of the day. I take it that you have nothing else to do today?”

He chuckled, the gleam in his eye brightening. He was in a really good mood.

“Not a thing to do but to enjoy the rest of the night with you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Haha… yeah.” He chuckled again. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was teasing you. “Oh, by the way.”

The both of you stopped walking as he let out a hum in response, telling you to continue. The both of you were standing just at the exit of the building, at the back. There was no one else around. It was just the two of you and your nerves.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I… Well, how do I put this.” You quirked an eyebrow at him. His gaze veered off to the side in thought before coming back to you. “I’ve been thinking for a long while about this. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“That we have.” Your heart was pounding, but you had to give yourself a metaphorical pat on the back for keeping your cool.

“I…” Typically, Lance had a way with words that even he didn’t realize that he had. This was clearly not one of those times. “Would it be alright if I…”

He took a step towards you, but you didn’t mind how he was somehow closer than he’d ever been before, where you could begin to feel the heat emanating from his body. Your eyes were locked on each other, and no matter how much you berated yourself, you knew what was about to happen. You were sure you had the same look on your face as he did. When you felt your hand touch his, you both slowly intertwined them. When you gripped at his sleeve, he lifted his arm and placed his hand on your own shirt. This wasn’t something that only friends did, and you didn’t need to hear the rest of his question to give him an answer.

“You can.”

Then your lips pressed together, slowly. The shock of the two of you meeting together like this sent a strike of feelings to go from your heart, through the rest of your body and back to your heart again. He was so hesitant with what to do next and you could feel that, but you didn’t want it to end so you pushed your lips harder against his and turned your head at a better angle. But then you couldn’t breathe for much longer, so you pulled away and kissed his cheek, laughing softly.

He did the same, and you wished you could see what his face looked like covered in red, but you didn’t have the chance. He had already pulled you into a comforting hug, with his arms wrapped securely around you. It was peaceful.

There was a moment of clarity for you, just for a moment. What you had wanted to happen for so long actually happened, and it was like a weight had been lifted and thrown off to the side. It was nice to have your feelings validated and reciprocated.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.” You heard him say, voice muffled into your shoulder.

“I guarantee I’ve been waiting longer, but I’d say the same.”

#pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokemon fics #lance (pokemon)#lance (pokemon) fics

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50funny · 4 years

Text

Mage- Chapter 36- Break Out (Part 6)

Written By 50Funny

Part 1- The Final Encounter

“Attention, 5 minutes until self-destruct,” blared out the mechanical female voice.

Liz, Tony, and Bip walked down the corridor bathed in the flashing red warning lights. They followed on In Alex lead as he walked past the large hole overlooked the arena.

“So what do you think? Reckon he was telling the truth?” Asked Tony.

“Hmm it does seem a little farfetched, but it didn’t seem like he was lying,” replied Liz.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex chimed in. “Whether what he said was true or not it’s the only lead we’ve got. Our next move now should be to…”

Alex's words were cut off by and unexpected enraged shout coming from the corridor beside him. He turned his head to see the Anvil barreling down the corridor at full speed. He collided with Alex, wrapping his arms around him and sending the pair crashing over the fence and plummeting down the hole towards the arena. Liz and Bip dashed quickly over to the fence and watched as Alex fell.

“Alex!” The pair shouted out in a panicked tone.

Alex continued to fall down the long shaft. The Anvil let out a deep psychopathic laugh.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re gonna get us both killed you, idiot,” Alex scolded.

“You think I give a crap! I’ll die happy knowing I took you out with me!” Replied The Anvil.

Alex turned his head to see the ground growing closer and closer. He closed his eyes as he focused all his magical energy into forming a shield around his back. The pair collided with incredible force forming a large crater in the ground. The Anvil stood up from his position on top of Alex, continuing to laugh menacingly. Alex slowly began to pull himself up from the crater before quickly being stomped back down by The Anvils boot. Alex grunted and struggled against The Anvil to no avail.

“Haha… look at you, pathetic. Your friends aren’t here to help you this time, guess you’re nothing special when you don’t have any backup,” The Anvil taunted.

He raised his hands above his head forming them into tight fists.

“Imma enjoy killing you!” The Anvil yelled as he sent his fist crashing down towards Alex.

Alex averted his eyes and closed them tightly as he prepared for the impact. Several second past, each one feeling like hours to Alex. He re-opened his eyes and turned his head to see the Anvil holding his fist mere inches away from his face. His body was shaking slightly as he let out a quiet groan. He began to stand back up letting his hand fall limply to his sides. He let out a violent coff sending a spray of blood shooting out. A long sharp pillar of stained red ice began to dig its way out of stomach causing his body to go completely limp. Alex began to stand back up to see Liz standing behind the Anvils lifeless body.

“Liz… you...you,” Alex stammered, shocked by what he had seen.

“Don’t…” Liz said, still trying to process what she had just done.

“Let's go,”

Liz turned and began to walk towards the exit, followed shortly behind by Alex.

Part 2- Cutting it close

Liz and Alex frantically ran through the destroyed hallways of the top floor of the facility. They had already been running for quite some time and were extremely exhausted and out of breath however pressed on in spite of it.

“Attention, one minute until self-destruct,” blared out the loud mechanical female voice.

“Crap… we’re not gonna make it,” Liz huffed in a panicked tone.

“We’re almost there… come on we can do it. Where are Bip and Tony?” Alex asked.

“They’re already waiting for us outside.”

The pair ran past the hole overlooking the arena, veering off to the side to face the stairway leading to the exit. They ran up the long stairway as fast as they could manage.

“Attention, self-destruct in ten, nine, eight, seven.”

The pair continued to run up the stairs as the exit grew closer and closer.

“Six, five, four.”

The pair reached the door, Alex cocked back his leg before launching it at the door sending it flying off its hinges and revealing the outside world behind it.

“Three, two.”

The pair ran out of the building quickly jumping to the ground and covering their faces with their arms.

“One.”

There was an unexpected silence and calm over the forest. Liz and Alex turned their heads around to look at the small shed marking the entrance to the arena with confusion. They continued to wait and watch for a few seconds as nothing continued to happen.

“Huh... guess that…” Liz said before being cut off by a loud bang.

Without warning the shed exploded bathing the forest in orange light for a brief moment. The pair covered their faces as chips of wood shot out in all directions. As the sound of the explosion began to die down the pair removed their hands from their faces to see the hole left in the ground where the shed once stood. The pair continued to huff as their exhaustion caught up with them. They turned over onto their backs to face the sky. Alex began to let out a slight laugh growing more and more hearty. Liz followed in adding to the sound of laughter. They slowly began to peel their aching bodies up off the ground.

“Alex… Liz,” yelled Bip from deeper in the forest.

The pair turned to see bip flying towards them at top speed with Tony walking behind him. Bip collided with Alex, wrapping his arms around and hugging him tightly.

“I was so worried about you two,” Bip said as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, we're fine,” Alex replied, gently patted Bip's head.

“So what now? Is it over?” asked Tony as he reached the rest of the group

“Guess so,” Alex shrugged in reply.

“Not quite yet,” Liz interjected, drawing the group’s attention to her. “I mean there were a lot of sick people involved with Channel 4014, be a shame if they got off scot-free.”

As the sun began to rise over the forest, the distant sound of sirens began to grow louder and louder as red and blue flashing lights began to shoot through the gaps in the trees.

Part 3- The Aftermath

3 picked up his cup off the table in front of him and raised it to his mouth.

“Well well I must say that I am impressed, only your first mission and you’ve already managed to take down one of the most powerful men in the world and dismantle the larges underground fighting wring in history,” 3 said taking a sip from his cup with his eyes closed.

He lowered the cup before opening his eyes to look across at Liz, Alex, and Bip on the other end of the table with a sarcastic glare.

“Though in an official capacity, I’m actually here to reprimand you for taking such drastic action without consulting the guild first… so try and not be so naughty in the future… ok.”

Liz smiled back across the table to 3.

“It’s good to see you again 3, how’s the clean up going?” Asked Liz.

“Well the police are being fairly tight-lipped, but from what I’ve managed to gather, over the past three days thanks to your little anonymous tip-off they’ve made over a hundred arrests. Everyone from high profile criminals to employees and attendees of Charles little murder dome have been taken into custody, I even heard the chief of the Sol Dantol police department is under investigation,” 3 explained before shifting his gaze across to Alex with an inquisitive smile. “So what happened? Did you find out any new information?”

Alex looked down contemplatively for a moment before finally opening his mouth.

“Charles defiantly had something to do with everything that happened,” Alex said candidly.

“Come on… you got to give me more than that. What did he say? What happened to Harry?”

Alex continued to avert his gaze away from 3. 3 let out a long disappointed sigh as he realized he wouldn’t get any information out of him.

“Fine, let me guess knowing would just put me in danger. You know you and Harry might not be blood-related but you’re clearly his son,” 3 said, once again leaning back in his chair as he noticed a slight smile raise from Alex's lips. “So what’s next for all of you?”

“We’re going to Niske. We’re hoping we can find out more there,” chimed in Bip

“Niske hey?” 3 said as he sat back up. “The word going around is that there’s some serious stuff going on over there. The military’s been hiring mages by the dozen for work there.”

Liz and Alex turned to look at each other for a moment with confusion. Liz turned back around to face 3.

“The Military? Sounds pretty serious, what’s happening?”

“Some sort of new disease or something was found there. The entire city has been completely quarantined, no one goes in or out, you’re lucky that the pair of you are mages otherwise you wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the city limits,” 3 explained.

Alex looked down at the cup in front of him as he contemplated on what 3 said. A dull beeping began to emanate from 3 wrist. He pulled his hand up and looked down at his watch as it continued to beep.

“I should get going, the police wanted some help raiding some of Charles’s old property’s,” said 3, as he slid his chair back, stood up and turned around to walk off down the street. He waved behind him as he walked. “Catch up soon, and best of luck.” Liz and Alex waved in reply as 3 walked off into the distance. Liz turned to look to Alex.

“Sounds like there some pretty serious stuff happening in Niske, you sure it’s a good idea to go there?” Liz asked.

“We don’t really have any other option,” Alex said as he continued to think. “It seems a little too convenient that the entire city would be quarantined as soon as we find out all this new information.”

“I guess so,” replied Liz as she stood up out of her seat. “Come on, we should get a move on then.”

“Hey you guys,” came Tony’s voice from further up the street. The pair looked up to see Tony running down the street towards them, waving with a huge smile stretched across his face. He came to a grinding halt as he reached the table that the group sat around. As Tony came to a stop he knelt over grabbing his knees and began to let out a series of heavy pants.

“You guys weren’t heading off already were you,” Tony panted.

“Ahh maybe,” said Alex.

“Come on, at least say goodbye first. I wanted to thank you for everything you did before you left. If it wasn’t for you guys id probably still be locked up and fighting for my life right now, I owe you big time.”

“It’s no big deal, we’re more than happy to help,” Bip chimed in.

“I mean really It was more of an unintended side effect,” Alex mumbled under his breath.

“So what’s next for you now then?” Asked Liz.

Tony smiled timidly as he looked over to Liz.

“Well umm… Well honestly seeing the two of you in action inspired me,” Tony stammered. “So I’m gonna practice my magic… and then next year… I’m gonna become a mage, just like you two,” Tony continued, brimming with determination.

“Huh for real?” asked Alex.

“Nope,” Tony replied with a cheeky grin.

“Then why would you say that you lier!” Alex scolded.

“Lieing, acting, same thing really. With Mr Morhan out of the picture, all of his competitors in the entertainment industry are scrambling to take up his share in the market, one studio even managed to get the rights to the story of everything that happened in the arena, they gave me a job as an authenticity consultant.”

“A movie? After only three days?” Liz questioned.

“Things move fast in this town, you gotta keep up or you’ll get left in the dust,” Tony shrugged. “They even offered me a role as a side character in the movie… I’m gonna be a star.”

“A side character huh, yeah the role seems fitting,” Alex muttered under his breath.

“Good for you, I’m sure you’ll do great,” Liz congratulated.

“Thanks, I’m finally gonna live my dream. So what’s next for you guys then.”

“We’re going to Niske to follow up on Mr. Morhan’s lead,” Bip chimed in.

“Wait you’re not serious are you? You heard what Mr. Morhan said if I was you I would try and forget about all that cult stuff and stay as far away from Niske as I could.”

Alex let out a quick sigh.

“We have to go, we’ve come too far to turn back now.”

“I can understand that just don’t die on me before I become famous alright,” Tony said as he turned around. “Anyway I should get going, they needed some help with the script today, catch yous round, I promise I won’t forget you when I’m rich.”

Tony began to walk off down the street with an unmistakable spring in his step. He waved behind him as he walked which the group returned.

“We really should get a move on to now, come on Alex,” Liz said as she began to walk off in the opposite direction.

Liz continued to walk off down the street for a few steps before turning back to see Alex still sitting at the table with Bip hovering next to him. She looked at the pair confused as she waited for them to follow.

“What are you two doing? Come on let’s get a move on or else we’ll never get to Niske,” Liz said.

“Liz… we need to talk about what happened, back in the arena, what you did,” Alex said, a serious aura overcoming him.

Liz's expression sank to match Alex's seriousness as she walked back over to the table.

“What’s there to talk about, it happened, that’s all there is to it,” Liz replied.

“We both know that not true. You killed someone, even if he was a bad guy, even if he deserved it that kind of thing isn’t something you can just instantly get over, especially when it’s your first time, trust me I know. I just want to make sure that you’re gonna be ok. You don’t’ have to pretend it’s not affecting you,” Alex assured.

Liz looked down to the ground in silence for a moment as she thought back on what had happened.

“The truth is I’m not ok, every time I think about what happened… the blood dripping out of him onto the ground, it makes me sick to my stomach. Even when I try and justify it, I just can't. I’m not ok… but I will be, I’ll get used to it, and better at it to, I’ll have to if I ever want to succeed as a mage,” Liz said as she once again turned around and walked off down the street. “So don’t worry ok… come on let’s get a move on.”

Liz walked off down the street brimming with determination. Alex let out a long sigh as he slowly pulled himself up out of his chair.

“That’s the thing,” Alex said as Bip and him followed Liz. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

________________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading chapter 36 of mage. WIth this marks the last chapter of the current arc, ive really enjoyed writting it and id like to thank anyone who has happened apon my writting. the next arc is coming along right now, its a bit different then the other ones so far so i hope you all enjoy. If you like what you see consider checking out my AO3 at this link https://archiveofourown.org/users/50Funny to see all new chapters 3 days early. If you feel so inclined please consider following my tumblr for all updates and other tid bits. Until next week, have a good day

#Mage #Magic #Magical #Story #Original Story #Chapter 36 #Writing #50Funny

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wannawrite · 5 years

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better better 💛 🐻 🍯

너의 그 사랑만이 멈춰있던 날 다시 뛰게 해.

[ Only your love could make the me who was stuck run again. ]

blog navigator!

day6 masterlist

TW: if you squint, there's very mild mentions of child abuse, physical and verbal

↪ group: DAY6

↪ member: Yoon Dowoon

↪ genre: idk its not really fluff either, (IM SORRY ANON IT GETS VERY FLUFFY AT THE END) but its 90 percent angst free LOL ??? this story is too out of the ordinary to categorise lol ☀️

↪ request: hey admin n! can i have a fluffy day6 dowoon scenario where he cheers you up from a bad day in school? thank you!

↪ A/N: I really wanted to write something for Dowoon, thank you so much, anon who requested this!! I somehow thought of the spiritual love I receive everyday from God (I'm christian to all of y'all who dk, haha) so I think this story will hold a special place in my heart!!! also, the story plot is largely inspired by the story by 九把刀 - 等一个人咖啡，so if u understand Chinese please give it a read, its a nice story uwuwuwuuwwu

edit i am SO SORRY THIS WAS WAY LONGER THAN IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE the word count will probably be like idk 8000 by the time i finished this when u requested for a scenario lolz i got way too invested I apologise...I wrote almost everyday for a whole week I regret getting carried away oh my gosh, but I hope you enjoy this, I really worked very hard on this!!!

ps im sorry if jihyo is ooc, never written nor know twice well but id say I'm a fan of their music hehe

______________________________________

It was about 7AM in the morning when all of your batch gathered around at the assembly place in your school, and between occasional yawns that slipped off your mouth (thanks, end of year exams), you and your friends were talking about the happenings of yesterday as you walked there, laughter often breaking out in your little group when there were bits of humour in the story.

You all made your way down the stairs and into the assembly grounds, resembling a large, aquamarine blue quilt that took up an obnoxious part of the school-where the netball competitions and other important events were held.

Seemingly following suit with the shade of blue on the ground, the lack of sun in the morning painted everything with a small hint of lighter, sky blue itself, such that it all looked like one entity but distinctive in its own individual colours.

Realising this with your own dark ringed, half opened eyes, you couldn't help but feel the ends of your lips angle up slowly-the world was so beautiful, you couldn't help but think as you knelt down to sit onto the rugged surface of the big, enveloping area-whoever had created it for all its small but still amazing features was exceptionally genius.

As your eyes scattered around the place, still immersed in a world of your own-a shrill screech of a whistle pulled you back to the boredom of school life, and with a slight, but petty annoyance you shifted your back to face the PE teacher who had just walked over, and subsequently, so did the other students around you.

He stood in front of your whole batch, clad in a black, torso hugging sports shirt and fluorescent pink shorts-which immediately, triggered a few giggles for your batch, but the spoilsport of a whistle just had to ruin the fun again, motioning for everyone else to shut up.

You sighed when you saw the creases in his forehead, and the unmistakeable hint of a frown on his tan, oval face-this was not going to be too good of a day.

You just hoped that he wasn't going to make all of you do 4 rounds around the school today. Running, needlessly to say really was not something a person like you liked to do-sweat all over your face, springing pimples on your face, grasping for breath and literally collapsing in front of the whole class like a dead fish because of how energy deprived you were? You were going to pass, thanks.

"Now, class!" his low baritone rasped out to the class, carrying a strong sense of dominance in it like he was speaking to a platoon in the army, "We have a group of alumni today, coming back to visit and help all of you train for your Physical Education Examinations next year." At that, his outstretched wrists flicked backwards loosely, gesturing for the alumni to come, and he continued again, "They are alumni that were our top students from last year, and did exceptionally well. They have all took time out of their 4 month break after examinations to train all of you, so please be nice, and don't be so unruly."

As soon as he had said that, the class started breaking out into applause as the five students stepped into everyone's field of vision.

Your eyes widened when you saw the bones, standing out like rocks in the their toned, fit arm and leg muscles-even the girls' thighs that was supposedly, the most unattractive part of everyone's body had 'walls' lining their lean, hourglass figure. Confident smiles were plastered to most of their faces, with a few tired exceptions-heck, one even had a smirk playing on their face as he scanned the class below him.

Inwardly, as you heard the laughs of the alumni that had aroused from the awing of their juniors below them, you couldn't help but shudder inside-there was no, freaking way that you were going to look like that after training with them.

You didn't want to, anyway-that meant rigorous hours of training and stitches 'basking' under the unhelpful, boiling cover of the sun.

Just then, as you were contemplating the choices of schools you were going to transfer to to abstain from the torture that was soon to come, the guy with the playful smirk on his face had already grabbed a microphone, and was preparing to speak. Translucent frames for glasses hid his small, almost demure but yet somehow condescending eyes-you weren't getting that great of a vibe from him.

"Hello, Class 3D9, I am your senior, Park Jaehyung, and I'm here to train all of you for the exams, since all of you don't seem that excited for it, judging by your expressions." His features softened considerably from a look of mirth to one of gaiety as he started to speak in a 'half air half voice' kind of way-rasping yet not quite, and you rolled your eyes.

It wasn't really that you disliked him much, but you could already picture him being the heartthrob of the girls in class-the gleam in their previously irritant, but now smitten eyes was so undeniably revolting.

They all nodded furiously at the last sentence, and he began to laugh a bit (attracting more squeals from the girls, much to your dismay) before speaking again, this time with the narrow of an eyebrow and a more serious, raised voice. "I know all of you might be thinking that this is very pointless, and stupid. I know. None of you really want to be an athlete in the future, and I understand. But I really hope all of you can treat this seriously, because health in the long run is really very important, and I want all of you to take not only the PE finals but the entrance exam to college confidently, and healthily. Are all of you with me?"

Like how any motivational speaker would have done, there was an applied pressure at the last line, and soon, a long, unenthusiastic 'yes' drawled out of everyone's barely parted mouth.

You snickered a bit at the frown on Jaehyung's face when he heard it-he really should have known beforehand, that encouraging a class didn't consist of just one pathetic speech, and you started to doubt if he had really been from this school.

Let's face it, motivation really wasn't this generation's thing.

"Are all of you with me!" he rasped again, this time yelling into the microphone obnoxiously and poking a hole in your eardrums.

"YES!" the class shouted with increased volume to appease him.

Just please, don't shout into the microphone again, you whimpered inwardly.

At this, Jaehyung looked more or less satisfied (thank God), and with the small hint of a smile, he passed over the microphone to another guy, whose eyes first caught your own. They were delicately angled into the eyes of a fox, emanating a half elegant aura that still seemed to hint 'Let's have fun, everyone!' They fell into small crescents when he started to laugh at Jaehyung's incapabilities to lead the class, and the circles in his lean, rosy cheek bones spelt attractiveness at its finest.

With a sweet smile on his face, he held up the microphone to his mouth and started to talk. "Morning, class! Sorry if Jaehyung sounds like a bit of a drag. I know he has that student leader aura, but you can't blame him, he's always been burying his face in a book during recess-HEY!" The class, including him, started to erupt into waves of giggles when Jaehyung flicked his forehead, a faux anger playing on his arched eyebrows and widened, now not so small eyes. "FINE, fine, I'll stop! Anyway, hello Class 3D9, this is your cooler senior, Kang Younghyun, and I hope to train all of you to success in the exams. Thank you!" Younghyun proceeded to bow with the shy lift of his eyebrows, and everyone clapped.

"His real name is actually Brian, please ignore him." Jaehyung added in with a wink, earning a loud slap on the shoulder from Younghyun (with a subsequent yelp from himself) and more laughter from the juniors, yourself included. Your seniors seemed pretty chill and friendly, not like how you thought they would be.

But sadly, as they were supposedly goofing around too much, the PE teacher blew that stupid, ear-wrenching whistle of his, causing you to jump up in shock again. "Okay boys, lets finish this up quickly." he said curtly, strict gaze fleeting past the two boys and causing their playful charm to melt like ice in front of him.

As Jaehyung and Younghyun simultaneously did a long, 90 degree bow, mouthing 'sorry' repeatedly, you and quite a good majority of your other classmates sighed, inwardly feeling a tad deflated-looks like the rest of the introduction wasn't going to be that fun after all.

The introduction seemed to move past like rusted cogs, at least for just one part of it-the first girl who had greeted all of you sported two round, neat buns at the sides of her hair, complimenting her big, double lidded eyes and her elegantly curved, brightly smiling lips. The corners of her eyes bore a small fragment of the brighter sky above her, gleaming with confidence as she bowed politely, introducing herself to everyone in a more reserved way than the other two. Her name was Park Jihyo, and she had been in dance-which was quite a great feat, since dance was a niche co-curricular activity in your school, but not surprising at the same time, looking at her beautiful figure and slender, well toned arms.

As she talked, she slipped a few jokes there and then mid-conversation, not too much that the PE teacher had to cut in, but attempting to keep the class' attention on her afloat. Jihyo had an unmistakeable pleasant aura that seemed to infect everyone with her laugh, and from the bottom of your heart, you really wanted to befriend her-someone approachable and easy to talk to.

There was another girl next to her who was called Chaewon, with demure, yet youthful brown eyes and a serene smile. Similarly, she too was very friendly and talked with a very laid-back tone-but the problem was, that she talked a lot.

You didn't really mind it much when people talked a lot, but when they overdid it, it got kind of...boring.

Seemingly one hour later, your eyes struggled to remain parted mid-sentence as she went into a trite monologue about how grateful she was to stand here. By the time she was done you felt fatigue wrap around your head like a snake, till a deeper voice was suddenly amplified into the mic.

"H-Hello, I'm Yoon Dowoon, and-"

"I ate ants as a kindergartener." Jaehyung's unmistakeable airy voice cut in annoyingly, causing Dowoon's face to flush a big, rosy red whilst all of you chortled with a louder, more extreme laughter than before-and instantly, you became alive again as the mental image of a small boy swallowing the poor insect with the brightest smile sent you rolling onto the floor.

"He even gave a whole box to his teacher." came a rather unhelpful snicker from Younghyun, further fuelling the laughter and the blush on Dowoon's face.

You couldn't help but admit, that he was sort of cute when he was embarrassed, though-Dowoon had the small, but believing eyes of a child, with two pretty, but not 'big enough that it protruded' kind of bags attached below them delicately. The gentle up curve of the sides of his big button nose was really attractive, and he had semi-big lips that pouted out like the small petals of a daisy.

Seeing Jaehyung's joking, almost condescending smirk resurface onto his face and look down onto Dowoon's expressionless eyes, which now refused to concentrate on anywhere but the floor was maybe, just maybe-sort of sad.

Unlike Jihyo, you couldn't see even a small fragment of the sky in his eyes-it was as if someone had just painted his eyes brown and decided it would stay that way for the rest of the day.

Dowoon was too embarrassed to do anything else, and without even looking up, he passed the microphone to the PE teacher, whose nonchalant expressions didn't seem to care much either.

Inside, a pang of guilt rose up to your chest, and you unconsciously started to frown along with him as you noticed how uncomfortable his hardened features had looked, amongst all the giggles thrusting through his gentle heart.

Being known by 'the guy who ate ants as a kindergartener' to everyone, instead of who he really was mustn't have been a very nice feeling, especially to his juniors-who was supposed to look at him as a superior and a leader figure.

Just as you were debating on whether or not to ask them to stop, a scream broke out through the assembly grounds, shutting everyone up with a magic swipe of its hand.

Of course, it had to be the stupid whistle.

"Are we here to joke, or train? Get up, all of you! We're going to run today." the PE teacher's obnoxiously booming, demanding voice rang into everyone's ears unpleasantly, the catalyst to the small groans of dismay breaking out amidst the class that was already preparing to stand and walk to the field.

"Can you believe he actually did that?" your friends approached you in a fit of giggles as all of you approached the running track, with a new topic to revolve your conversation around.

Just that, this time, you didn't really want to join in.

It wasn't the best of days after all, you thought with a small hang up in the side of your chest. Out of all things, after seeing a poor boy getting bullied by his own friends, you had to do the stupid 4 rounds that all of you did practically every week.

As you braced yourself painfully for the sweating and fatigue that was to come, taking your rightful place behind the white tape attached to the floor marking the starting point- an unusually low cough brushed by your ears briefly, and instinctively, you whirled around.

You saw the big, believing eyes of a child again as you did so-it was Dowoon, and to your surprise, those eyes noticed your gaze and looked back.

Crap, he's really, very cute. you could feel your head lose some of its gravity and your heartbeat accelerating as he proceeded to smile after, the lift of his plump, daisy lips showing off his round, marshmallow-like cheeks.

"You okay?" his deep voice asked you gently, and you nodded with a small laugh, realising how much of a mess you must have looked in front of him for him to ask such a question.

"I should be the one asking you that. I'm sorry for laughing at you earlier."

With that, his smile angled further into a laugh of his own, and Dowoon replied, "It's okay. I'm used to it already."

You could already feel your forehead crease in slight disbelief, as you stared at the sheepish falter in his smile and recalled how unhappy he was earlier on.

"That's not true-"

BEEP!

The PE teacher's whistle had already gone off, and Dowoon, much to a top runner's expectations, was already speeding far ahead of you with a steady, confident pace as his brown curls bounced gently under the force of his movements.

Looking at nowhere but the front, he looked determined to finish what he had started-something you could probably only dream of having.

"What's taking you so long? Hurry up!" the PE teacher yelled at you, averting your attention away from your senior and back to your miserable plight.

You sighed with a slightly defeated energy, giving him a perfunctory nod as you too, began to move towards the finish line.

That is, if you could even make it.

As you ran, you made a mental note to never use that stupid whistle ever again.

________________________________________________

31st December, 2018.

"Se-second place in class? No way, you must have heard wrongly. Second place girls-wise, maybe..." you insisted disbelievingly, feeling the air brush against your throat as you inhaled sharply, hardly able to fathom the news that had just been broken to you.

Contrary to what your stubborn mentality refused to accept, your deskmate Sungjin just nodded again, the smile on his face laced with a small hint of amusement-he too, probably foresaw that you wouldn't believe such a thing.

"I'm serious, man. It came as a shock to everyone yesterday as well." he said, hiding a gentle, but knowing giggle in 'serious'. "You really have Dowoon to thank, look at you go."

You stared at the suggestive crease in Sungjin's big, pretty eyes, not bothering to hide the sarcasm dripping from your smile (very well knowing that someone like Sungjin was capable of playing such pranks on you).

"And where can I get more reliable information?" you demanded, refusing to tear away your gaze from his, and noticing the added pressure in 'reliable', Sungjin couldn't help but break into a more relaxed smile as he lifted his hands up in surrender.

"Fine, go see for yourself, just don't hit me, please."

He pointed a finger at the notice board, littered with numerous sheets of construction paper from all the projects your class had been assigned this year, almost like a peacock's feathers unfolding.

However, there was one paper that stood out from the rest, dull, white and boring-but maybe not so, once the truth was revealed.

In big, bold letters, it spelt:

PHYSICAL EDUCATION EXAMINATION RESULTS: CLASS 3D9.

The thought of knowing your results had thrown all thoughts of replying to Sungjin out of the window as you could hear the squeak of your shoe soles speed across the classroom towards the notice board.

Frantically, as the long table of students revealed a clearer picture of itself to you, you decided on looking at all the names from the bottom to the top-no better way to set yourself up for disappointment than to face it sooner.

It had been a while of panning up, and your squatting legs were getting tired; though knowing full well that you looked the part of an idiot while doing all this. You couldn't find your name anywhere on the board, and as your legs slowly broke its position to ascend further, the anxiety in your chest seemed to rise along with it-what if you had done so bad a job, you couldn't even get a position?

What if Dowoon had seen it and would never talk to you ever again? What would your parents say when they knew...

Just as your imagination was trailing all the way off from your real goal, the truth imprinted in cold, black ink debunked all of the scenarios in your head.

Your name was right next to the position, second place.

"So you weren't lying!" was the first thing you did as you shouted out of instinct from the opposite position of the classroom. As many other students turned their heads to you in slight frustration, you could hear Sungjin's sniggers direct back at you in response, which was yeah, albeit sort of annoying-but nothing could really smother the joy you were feeling at this moment.

Your eyes lingered for a long time onto the placing that you had gotten, and you recalled all of Dowoon's practice sessions with you-how he had drawn out almost 90% of his 4 month break just to train with you after school, how you had nearly tripped over a hurdle on the running track and causing both of you to laugh, how he had made you draw out a meal plan for him to monitor your food intake everyday-you'd never thought you'd say this, but you really, really missed it.

As you thought back to the believing eyes of a small child, looking up at the boundless sea of a sky-the clouds floating past resembling well his sweat glazed cheeks, you realised-how much you'd miss his presence that pushed forward, reaching out to the you who couldn't be bothered with most things, his care that reached out to the you who didn't care for yourself-not necessarily in a romantic way.

The thought of getting Dowoon's number had very stupidly, slipped off your mind amidst all the joy he had brought you, and your good mood was surprisingly diminished by a small tinge of guilt as you returned to your desk.

You regretted it. A lot.

"All those training sessions with her partner must have helped a lot, huh? The one who ate ants in kindergarten, I have to laugh." Suddenly, the silent, but tangible hiss of a group of girls fluttered past your ears, and without thinking, a small sense of anger blazed up in your heart as you stood up with a jolt.

How dare they say such a thing about such an amazing person.

Your chair did a loud, ugly screech against the floor as it happened, and the girls looked to you, slightly perplexed-that was, until you grabbed onto their wrists, and locked eyes with them-with a fire in your eyes that you yourself hadn't recognised.

"Don't talk about your senior like that." you deadpanned, with the motivation of anger that had backed you up well.

Just then, you noticed the arch of your eyebrows, and the anger in your movements reflected in their cowardly gazes, and for a second, you wondered-if the you that was acting like this, was really you.

"Sorry." was all they could manage awkwardly, a sheepish, yet somehow insincere smile dripping from their lips as they slipped away to their own desks-people nowadays just loved to talk about others behind their backs, and you sighed.

Only your love could make the me who was stuck in a rut run again.

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"You got second place in the finals? Okay. Well, good for you, but I don't think you'd come to me just for that." the PE teacher slurred his words sharply, suddenly looking up at you from the bend of his glasses with a dull expression in his eyes. He seemed way more fascinated in the papers lulled over by his wrists than your dumb questions, and in all honesty, it was getting sort of annoying.

The lazy whirr of the fan spun over your head, fitting perfectly into the awkward silence between you and the teacher as you twiddled your thumbs awkwardly, trying to figure out a way to paraphrase such a stupid request-not daring to meet his steely gaze that somehow, stubbornly refused to tear away from yours.

He was right, however; the last thing you'd ever do was to go into the lion's den without an ulterior motive.

No one really dared to talk to the PE teacher about anything else besides school.

Plus, you could already imagine all the worst case scenarios if he was in a particularly bad mood today, and...let's just say that detention would potentially be the second best option.

He really wasn't the best person to talk to.

But in this case...

You looked up at the spinning blades of the fan again, and felt the swirl of cool air blow through your hair gently.

Maybe he was.

At such a comforting touch, you tried your best to ignore the pounding headache dragging you down; and with painstakingly mustered courage, you spoke.

"T-Teacher, do you have Dowoon's number? Like, the one who was our senior?"

Regret kicked in the second you had spoke of Dowoon's name, and you could literally feel your temples and limbs lose all sense of gravity as your reputation crashed to the floor. You could feel your heartbeat go into allegro, pounding onto every organ in your body as the PE teacher looked up with the most unreadable expression on his face.

Sweat emitted disgustingly from your scalp as your chest rose and fell back in waves, failing terribly to compose yourself. This is it, you dreaded your indelible fate that was to come as the PE teacher raised his eyebrows-you were barely standing up already, and you could feel your kneecaps wobble unhelpfully under the tendrils of anxiety.

I'm doomed for life, Dowoon's gonna think I'm a stalker, and-

"Hahahaha."

Laughter rolled out in the depth of that intimidating voice, like coffee spilt over a cleanly lacquered table.

You felt your eyes widen as you looked up at the teacher again, still grasping for breath as your heart refused to stop beating-after all, collapsing on the spot seemed like the best path in such an awkward situation.

Especially when he looked at you with amusement twinkling in the corners of his slit-shaped eyes.

"So, what next? You're asking, me? To help you with your half baked attempt of asking a senior out on a date?" he snarled sarcastically, getting out of his seat and approaching you. The corners of his mouth tugged at a smirk, baring his set of sharp teeth; the jaws of a wolf, that spelt warning at its finest, and in all your shock, you recoiled back.

You didn't think this was how it would end up; no, not like this.

Just then, you felt a hand arrest your wrists tightly, digging holes in your skin.

The pain from the wolf's claws amplified your vocal cords as you screamed, causing all the other teachers out there to look at you from their desks, and inside, you wanted to cry; you had never been humiliated so bad in your entire life.

"In your dreams."

Just like that, with the help of a brute force you were mercilessly thrown out of the staff room, and before you could even put a foot on the floor to stabilise yourself you heard a loud bang behind you-followed by the even more painful sound of the lock seizing the entrance of it.

You got up, slightly blank, slightly hollow, slightly lost-as you walked a bit further, heart feeling heavy with all the baggage in your chest-before the feelings got hold of your throat, and tumbled out through your eyes unashamedly.

You were way too sad to hide any further.

Pathetically, to do all you could to mask the feelings that had crept up onto you, through the not so fair play of fate; you held a wrist to your face as you sprinted back to class, with a scar zipped across it, just as it had done for your broken heart.

__________________________________________

"I'm sorry for what happened today...but I'm happy that senior was able to bring you so far." he barely managed, with his smooth, soft voice that seemed to skim lightly over the atmosphere of the café; just like the soft cream that had been drizzled meticulously over the cup of coffee on the table.

You weren't taking it, the coffee that he had made for you not too long ago. Not really that you had anything against him, no-definitely not your caring, gentle coworker, but you didn't really have the mood to drink anything as of now...You sighed briefly, dusting your apron to keep yourself preoccupied, but still not managing to let off all the steam in your body.

The incident had very admittedly, left you scarred; very literally and mentally. Leftover embarrassment was still tugging at the corners of your heart, begging to be attended to while you tried your best to shrug it off, and walked to the counter to unlock the cashier; the cheery ring of the bell above the door had struck at a rather unconventional time, and a customer was already walking in.

It wasn't very fair that they'd have to put up with your emotional baggage when they were here to get a drink, maybe even to destress and wind down for the day.

"Pil-ah, it's okay, I don't really want a drink as of now." you played it off as calmly as you could, slotting the key into the box and letting it slide open with a click. "You can drink it or something, you don't look too energised yourself."

A disappointed whine echoed back in response to your lousy excuse; there was no way Wonpil was going to believe such a stupid reply, and you could already anticipate his nagging voice as he opened his mouth.

"Heyyyyy, come on...don't be like this, I've known you for so long already. You've got to take care of yourself, even when you're sad."

The last line got you hard, and as you saw the customer's eyes widen in judgement behind her mop of ashy bangs, you couldn't help but glare back at him.

"Wonpil, I said I was okay." you deadpanned with added pressure, however, subsequently feeling guilt crawling onto your nerves after realising how mean that had sounded. His features had softened considerably, with a slightly hurt look in his big, innocent eyes, and you didn't really want to hurt anyone else when you yourself had been hurt enough.

"I'm sorry, just-I'm tired from today." you sighed helplessly, having been pushed into a corner, and being his understanding self, Wonpil nodded back with concern laced in his seemingly nonchalant smile.

After making sure everything was more or less alright, you hastily attended back to the customer, who was looking slightly frustrated with how long you were taking-and after she had ordered her iced americano, she looked a little more satisfied as she took a seat by the table nearest to the window.

It wasn't surprising; the weather today was warm. Lances of golden sunlight had dropped by the café, gracing its interior in its crisp, evening glow, and very miserably, laughing at your bad mood that contrasted with it.

"Are you okay now?"

You turned around to see Wonpil, eyebrows raised, hands rested in the pockets of his apron; and a rare, but serious look in his eyes as he prepared to listen to you.

As much as you didn't want him to worry over you, you knew how stubbornly insistent he was with getting things off your chest, so nevertheless, you opened your mouth-wondering what you had done to deserve his grace at the back of your mind.

"I-It's nothing really, it's just-" you exhaled, breaking into a nervous box smile as you ran a hand through your hair, barely having the right state of mind to continue, "I really wanted to thank him for his kindness and how he cared for my growth so selflessly, but apart from being so embarrassed by the teacher, not being able to do that anymore-it makes me feel so, so bad, knowing that I was never able to do anything for him, because I really, really miss him, and-"

"Don't say anymore. I understand."

You felt Wonpil's hand descend onto your back, like the touch of a small, but pretty little butterfly as it fluttered over the expanse of your spine, caressing it gently and hushing your shaking nerves.

All the thoughts had miserably, coaxed your feelings forward, and without knowing, you had started to cry again as you held your palms to your face-trying your best not to cry too loudly as you let out small, uncontrollable sobs.

"T-Thank you so much." you choked awkwardly, not knowing any better way to express your gratitude, and even in the darkness of your closed eyes, you could already picture Wonpil's relaxed, comforting smile playing on the sides of his face as he chuckled softly.

Just then, a cough cut in, putting a halt to your sobs and causing both of you to turn to the customer.

"Um...I'm sorry to interrupt this moment, but can I have three iced lattes? Please?" he said, carrying a half air, half voice tone-and with the guidance of your instinct your head immediately shot up from your palms.

There was only one person you knew with such a voice-the one you heard when you had first met the school alumni.

"P-Park Jaehyung?" you yelled instinctively, and your own eyes revealed the truth to you quickly-lean, rosy cheeks, big lips, small, droopy eyes, that were now widened into large circles as they stared back at you, with equally as much surprise in his gaze.

"Ohhhhh my! Y-You're the junior that trained with Dowoon a lot, right?" In his hearty voice, he exclaimed almost disbelievingly, but causing you to blush furiously; it was rather weird being so closely associated with him. "And hey, don't be rude-how dare you call a senior by their full name." he added on teasingly, and both of you laughed.

"I think I'll make the drinks for today-you definitely need to catch up with him, someone might be there waiting for you." Wonpil's voice said behind you understandingly, and you said a quick thank you with a smile before walking over to Jaehyung's seat.

"Oh, sorry for my impoliteness, Your Highness, Park Jaehyung, my queen-does this make it better now?" you retorted quickly, with a cheeky smirk on your face and triggering a gasp from him.

"Excuse me? Your audacity? Oh, and by that guy's sound, you sound like you're only here to see Dowoon, how sad-he isn't here, because I'm the most significant out of everyone there." he snickered back, laughing even harder when you stuck out your tongue back at him pettily-but to your surprise, it didn't last very long.

"Jaehyungie-hyung, don't be so mean! I'm here, hi! I haven't seen you in so long, are you doing okay?" a deep voice exclaimed, causing your jaw to drop even further, if that was even possible-and your feelings seemed to arrest all the air in your chest, just for a second-when you once again, saw the big, believing eyes of a child and his kind, untainted smile.

It was the boy that had spent countless hours under the sun, pushing you towards your goals endlessly.

It wasn't just any person, a random school alumni that had came to their transit stop for a while to leave again-it was Dowoon, Yoon Dowoon, of all people that you could have seen on that miserable day of yours.

It seemed almost intangible, yet so palpable as you ran to him, calling his name, as your hands managed to even hug his taller figure again-you could have nearly cried when you felt his bigger palm crash against your back with sincerity, and while you heard Dowoon's deep voice roll out a long string of laughter, commenting jokingly, "Man, I never knew a girl would miss me so much," you sort of wanted to smack him-yet was definitely in awe of the fact that you could hear that laughter again.

You'd never think that you would have heard it ever again.

"Shut up, I'm just here because you got me a second place position in running, loser." you giggled it off coolly, but failing terribly to hide the happiness stupidly written all over your face as Dowoon's smile angled up further, wearing his pride proudly on his sleeve as he gave you a high five.

"Really? Oh my gosh, that's so amazing! I'm so proud of my student." he laughed, childlike eyes widening in happiness and amplifying his innocence. "You deserve it man, you trained so hard for the test-definitely more commitment than I think you would have had."

"Ow, thanks a lot for the last comment, jeez, alright, I know I suck." you jutted out your lips in faux sadness, clutching your heart to your chest-but quickly remembering why you were so happy to see him again, you hastily added, "But thanks anyway, for guiding me. Couldn't have done it without you, taking so much time off your break."

There. I finally said it, you thought happily, allowing yourself a small grin when Dowoon rejected your praises quickly, hurriedly saying, "No, no, I didn't really do anything," and starting to ramble on about how you had done so much more to deserve it-his eyes got even bigger when he was in slight shock, and he looked the part of a small, innocent child more than ever.

"And oh, right." Dowoon suddenly spoke up amidst the topic of running, grabbing your attention. You couldn't help but giggle when he was about to open his mouth to speak, but instead-shut it again and started tugging the edges of his hair, mouthing things to himself with eyes squeezed together tightly-probably a long string of Jaehyung's 'motivational quotes.

A part of your heart fluttered at the purity his very being exuded-he was really, very cute.

But in all your mirth, you couldn't help it-you absolutely had to smack him.

"Yoon Dowoon, hurry up!" you snapped quickly, however with a cheeky smile that showed your real intentions. Dowoon was momentarily taken aback-but his features quickly softened after, when he realised you were joking.

"Sorry for being such a big mess, it's just..." he barely smiled softly, breaking out into further nervous laughter when Jaehyung and Younghyun started to beat his back repeatedly.

"Do you want to go out with us today? We're going to my place further out from the city, and uh...we're setting off fireworks and having a picnic around there and playing our instruments and stuff-" There was probably going to be no end to his rambling if Younghyun hadn't gave him a loud slap on his back-at this point, the creases in his eyes and sheepish box smile showed it all; he was incredibly, incredibly flustered, and to your dismay-also incredibly endearing.

But still, you couldn't miss grabbing the opportunity to tease him. You lifted your lips into a smirk, rocking your shoes against the foot of the table as you cooed, "Aww, is my senior asking me out on a date? I'd love to go with you, aww, Dowoonie..." Everyone in the place, yes, including that grumpy female customer; broke into fits of giggles, raising the atmosphere of the previously still, 'cultured' public place as you chased after Dowoon, who was currently running away from you and ducked his head to hide under the table.

"Haha, why are you genuinely scared? I was only joking, you're so adorable." you grinned cheekily as you saw the blush dancing above his round, squishy cheeks and the embarrassment in his semi opened eyes, "I'll come with you. It's quite timely as well, since I've had quite a bad day at school...You know what, I'll say later. I gotta finish my shift first, Wonpil can't possibly do everything for me." you quickly added when you saw his eyebrows widen in slight concern, and with a good-natured, outstretched wrist you helped Dowoon up from the table; who was quick to stick out his tongue when he saw that Jaehyung and Younghyun were still unable to contain the mirth written across their faces.

"So, I'll see you at 7 then?" he smiled awkwardly, trying his best to ignore them, and you nodded back eagerly as you walked him out of the shop, and into the embrace of the outdoors again.

It seemed so coincidental, that even as Jaehyung and Younghyun had simultaneously tagged along behind the two of you and out into the open, the sun was only blazing through the gaps in Dowoon's curls-girdling the ridges of his shoulders, slicing through the sides of his face and oozing into the crevices of his warm, faith-filled eyes.

You smiled.

The world was so beautiful.

"See you later! Don't miss me too much!" you yelled out to Dowoon jokingly, as he and the other boys got into the small scooters they shared-and after he had yelled back with equal gusto, "Back at you!", the three scooters sped in the other direction; hopefully, anticipating the time where they came back the other way again, because you sure were.

_____________________________

unknown: It's 7 lol have you ended your shift yet?

you: Yeah I have! Are you Dowoon or...?

unknown: No I'm Brian #sike

unknown: Please ignore that, Jaehyungie-hyung took my phone, I don't know what he's doing with his weird hashtags again TTTTTTTTT

you: HAHAHAHA TELL HIM HE SUCKS

you: It's nice to have your number though...it sucked not being able to contact you :( How did you get it anyway?

Dowoon: Yeah hhhh Wonpil told me earlier :) I didn't think you would mind...so

you: Haha of course not! Anyway, are you on the way?

Dowoon: Wouldn't dare to be late, I'm already here hehe ^^

Your head shot up with excitement, nearly screaming as you saw three headlights blaze at you, from the curtain of darkness that had shrouded the city not too long ago. It was around autumn right about now, and you were rather sensitive to the cold-so seeing their warm presence was quite comforting.

Noticing that you were already hanging up your apron and practically bouncing to the kitchen to clean up, Wonpil couldn't help but throw a good-natured laugh at you. "Someone's excited for their first date." he remarked suggestively, cleaning the used table under the illumination of the light bulb hanging above him, and if it wasn't for the distance between both of you you would have probably kicked him in response.

"Shut uuuuup, there's literally 2 other boys goiiiiing." you whined, taking one of the leftover plates scattered across the sink and soaping it,"-The chances of you and I dating just about now is probably way higher than Dowoon...well, at least, I've known you for about a year plus right now, and him, 6 months at most." Wonpil couldn't help but giggle again at the uncertainty in your voice, and pettily, you stamped your feet on the floor.

"There's no way my future partner will be someone as mean as you, I take all my words back." you pouted jokingly, and subsequently, starting to laugh at yourself too-this conversation was going absolutely nowhere.

"Hey, but in all seriousness, I think you should just go. Don't make them wait too long, after all, one of them is your future boyfriend. I'll take care of wrapping up." Wonpil spoke up again, approaching you as he hung the cloth by the arch of the sink, and took the plate from your hand kindly-gesturing for you to wash your hands as he pointed to the tap.

With unmasked gratitude you smiled back at him, washing your hands briefly before taking your phone from the counter, "Thanks again, Pil-ah; and one more freaking thing, before I have to repeat it a second time, there is no way Dowoon is going to be my boyfriend." you remarked strictly, taking your school bag from the seat close to the door and slinging it over your shoulder excitedly-the events of tonight sounded incredibly fun.

"Thank me by inviting me to your future wedding!" Wonpil screamed in his high pitched voice when you opened the door, with the silvery chime of the bell above it-and this time, you really, really wanted to kick him, because outside, in the cold of the night Jaehyung was literally having the time of his life laughing at you and nodding back to Wonpil in agreement (one of the rare times where he actually sided him).

"Boys suck." you groaned pettily as Dowoon, with unmistakeable redness on his face gestured for you to get onto the back of his scooter, and Younghyun laughed.

"Doesn't seem that way with our Dowoonie, am I right?" his unmistakeable fox eyes shot you a small wink, which was sort of annoying-till he yelled smugly, "Good luck on being the first there with extra baggage! Not like anyone ever manages to triumph me anyway."

With that, Younghyun's scooter whizzed off, black coat and black locks fluttering behind him care freely, like how his very personality was-and soon, Jaehyung's scooter whizzed off too, the only thing behind him being his screams of "I'm GONNA BEAT YOU THIS TIME, BRIAN!", and you couldn't help but giggle a bit-the antics of those two were always so stupidly humouring.

"Sorry, they can be a bit of a public embarrassment." Dowoon laughed helplessly, shaking his head, and with a small smile you too shook your head; you were totally fine with them, and you'd even say that having them around was enjoyable. "-Jihyo and Chaewon are actually joining us later, but they weren't comfortable on the scooter, and we need someone to drive our instruments."

He paused for a bit to catch his breath, expelling a small puff of white before explaining, "I hope you're okay with it too-the scooter can feel very unbalanced at first, but I think you can handle it. This sounds incredibly awkward, but you gotta hold onto my waist, or you'll probably fall off within a second of me accelerating. Alright? Don't want to be responsible for your medical fees." Dowoon ended off with a joking crease in his smirk before he tossed you a neon yellow helmet from the basket of the scooter, and you nodded before putting it on.

He thrusted the key into the slot rather vigorously, and soon there was a dull roar from the engine behind you, and at his command, you awkwardly positioned your hands at his waist area. Admittedly, it felt pretty good, however-the coat that hugged his waist was made of soft, thick brown fabric, and it reminded you of your honey scented sheets back at home.

"Ready to ride?" he suddenly piped up, happiness laced in his deep, comforting voice, and you shot him a thumbs up sign.

"Always ready." you answered eagerly, and with a louder roar from the engine than before, both of you sped out towards the moon, that lay on the horizon of the shimmering sea.

________________________

You felt like you were riding on the brim of a cloud as the wind zipped through your hair and your jacket, starting to take flight and flutter violently behind you like kites in the sky. The feeling of being so close to land, yet so far up into the sky was so indescribable-gravity accelerated the thrill in your heart as Dowoon let out a long, unceremonious scream, cheering for the destination that wasn't too far from where you were.

"We're almost here!" he broke into a small gummy smile beneath the mop of his fluttering curls-they seemed to run across the border of his forehead, like running waves crashing beautifully onto the shore of a beach.

However, contrary to your imagination, the river that surrounded all of you in its big embrace was especially quiet-only letting small dribbles of light from the lighthouse float gently above the surface of the waves as both of you moved past, like bioluminescent lily pads that had descended from the glow of the moon. Mountains foreshadowed the road ahead mysteriously, painted in a darker shade of navy than the star speckled-sky above both of you, and the road to the picnic area was long and windy, snaking out into a canopy of trees relaxedly.

"You'd never get anything like this in the city." you said in slight awe, hands slowly finding themselves crawling up to Dowoon's broad shoulders as you dared to hoist yourself up, breaking up from your posture a tad bit, and as you felt one of his curls brush past your wrists, he laughed his slow, deep laugh in response.

"You're cute. I had a friend that didn't live in Busan as a kid, and he lived in the more country area-he would probably protest if he heard what you just said..." His deep voice trailed off softly, seeming to follow the snaking nature of the concrete road ahead of you. "-Nevertheless, I'm happy we're here. It's nice to ride out here with someone."

His eyes, which had now stopped displaying the light of the sun to catch the glow of the moon, was still as warm as ever in the cold weather. With undeniable faith tinting the light that ringed his eyes, half opened submissively and bringing out the semi rosy tint in his bags, the carefree smile on his lips and the uplift of his cheeks resembling floating clouds didn't fail to bring you back in awe again; it was as if all laws of astronomy tailed after his presence, and followed in the footsteps of his unbreakable belief.

"You're really very beautiful." the words left your lips through an airy whisper, and you were too busy staring at him again to even notice what you said until Dowoon spoke up again.

"U-Um...Me? R-Really? Thanks, I guess..." his eyes bore a different spark to it as they drooped shyly, like a mimosa recoiling at someone's touch-and as the truth dawned onto you slowly, mixed feelings of embarrassment and self-blame kicked in a little too fast-you really, really wanted to kick yourself for saying that.

Trying to salvage the situation, you quickly spoke up upon seeing his tilted eyebrows and the embarrassment written on his face. "I-I didn't mean that in a weird way, I'm sorry, not that I don't love your looks-or not that I don't love you any less, i-it's just-" you stuttered awkwardly, brain stupidly failing you at this crucial moment-but being a nice guy, Dowoon just shook his head briefly.

With a small smile breaking onto his face, not fully suggestive; yet not fully chaste, he responded in awe, big eyes widening with more faith than before.

"No, no, please don't apologise, because..." Dowoon spoke with the smile of reuniting with someone again, overly excited to articulate his words properly, "B-Because, I-"

"Dowoon! What's taking you so long, can you drive faster? You're almost there already, hurry up!" Jaehyung's voice suddenly broke through the world that only both of you shared, halting the climax of the story. He and Younghyun were on a higher end of a cliff, where the destination was, and you could already see their hands waving vigorously in your direction. Jihyo and Chaewon had arrived too-you could see two figures with long hair sit on a big red mat.

"What was that you were going to say?" you asked, as the scooter started to move again; both of you had been so immersed in conversation that you hadn't even realised that Dowoon stopped the vehicle to talk.

However, contrary to what you thought he was going to say, Dowoon shook his head almost nonchalantly, losing a bit of the faith in his gaze as he looked down with baggy eyes of dejection.

He squeezed his lips into a textbook version of a smile and talked at a slower pace, this time more scarily composed than before. "I-It's nothing. I don't know if I'll have the courage to tell you again."

The entire trip to the cliff went downhill in a veil of awkward silence, both of you knowing full well in your hearts why such a thing had happened. Wind rocketed past your ears silently, blowing against your ears and hitting against your hair-as if coaxing you to speak, but right now, you didn't know if you had the courage to say anything to him when you had made him sad.

In less than a minute, the scooter had surfaced up the flatter parts of the cliff, and you decided that this was the best moment to speak up.

"I'm sorry if I made you sad or anything." you mumbled awkwardly, stepping out of the scooter and nearly losing your balance-having your feet on the ground after 2 whole hours seemed like a foreign concept to your legs right about now.

Dowoon shook a hand at you almost instantly. "You've made me more happy than I could ever imagine." he said unhesitantly, and this time, smiled at you with a more genuine smile. For a second, you could see the faith of the crescent moon resurface back on the ring of his eyes as he continued, "Just have fun tonight, that's all I ask for."

You nodded back, returning his smile; and with a new, strangely fluttering feeling in your heart you followed Dowoon to the picnic mat, where Jihyo and Chaewon were sitting, dressed in casual clothing-you felt slightly out of place, decked out in your sloppy, mud-speckled school uniform as you greeted them shyly, sitting yourself onto the mat. But thankfully, the girls initiated conversations well-definitely way better than you did, and within seconds, you hadn't even realised that Dowoon had slipped away to somewhere else.

"So, how's life after finals?" Jihyo asked cheerily, or rather, the way she usually talked; it wasn't rare to see that consistent, bright smile of hers plastered on her doll like face.

You didn't exactly know how to answer. "I don't really know. After school today I have that 4 month break that most have, so what happened after your break?" You started to laugh as you realised how you had redirected the topic back to them, and both of them started doing the same.

"Hmm-hahaha-I'd say that college life is still manageable, I've been doing it for about 2 months plus." Jihyo answered, failing to contain her laughter at one point as she squeezed her eyes together endearingly. "Chaewon is entering a polytechnic, so she has about 2 months more to break, same with Dowoon, Jaehyung and Younghyun want to go to a uni, so they're going to college too, but I don't know...like. I really don't know what I want in life yet..."

Her voice trailed off awkwardly, with the fading smear of her chirpy voice, and you couldn't help but relate. Sure, you had a subject combination and you had did pretty good in finals, but you didn't have a certain passion you would shirk everything to chase; not like many of the people in your class, who were already able to aim their arrows towards their target.

"It's okay. I'm sure you'll find it soon when the time arrives, I'm looking for what I want too." you said with empathy, and in response Jihyo nodded politely.

"I suppose."

All of you talked for a while longer, on less serious topics-occasionally breaking out in laughter when Jihyo came up with one of her silly, yet timely antics, and going soft hours when Chaewon showed all of you pictures of her labrador-it was a he, with a slender, healthy body and adorable marble eyes.

After a while of staring, you had only come to realise that the mahogany, soft brown shade of his fur was the same colour you saw, inked intricately in the depths of Dowoon's eyes.

Just then, there was a very coincidental, but hesitant tap on your shoulders.

"Can you come with me?" a low voice spoke up amidst the cooing over the dog, and you looked up, despite already recognising who it was.

This time, his gaze looked a little different; you couldn't help but feel slightly excited as you noticed the enigmatic sparkle that stood out amidst his gentle, brown eyes, taking his outstretched hand and standing up.

"Yoon Dowoon, I'm warning you, if you don't bring her back safely, we will tail after you with bats and split your head open." Jihyo suddenly spoke up with a glint in her big, doll eyes, voice cracking menacingly at the last line-and again, both of you laughed at her antics.

"Don't worry, I won't." he laughed awkwardly, voice faltering at the last line. You couldn't help but notice that Dowoon's cheeks were starting to heat up, but quickly ignored it when he gestured at you to follow him.

Contrary to what you thought it would be, the walk to the destination wasn't very long, unlike earlier on. From the angle of the picnic mat, a loudspeaker in the distance was clearly visible. Next to it were two other figures, Younghyun and Jaehyung-with a bass and electric guitar slung around their chests respectively.

Needlessly to say, you were shocked. "They can play those?" you exclaimed, and with a small nod, Dowoon chuckled gleefully, "Look to your left."

Without a moment of thought, you turned your head.

Cymbals, glinting on the cusp of its dully golden surface like the rings of Saturn, with two smaller drums and a large bass drum positioned at the bottom-it seemed like you were exaggerating, but...

"Dowoon, you can play that? " you cried out, faltering a little at the last word, but unlike how you had reacted, he just smiled like it wasn't that great of a feat to play the drums.

"Not just that, I'm going to play you a song." he responded triumphantly, as he approached the spinning chair behind it and sat down. A smug smile remained on his face unwaveringly as he bent down to pick up his drumsticks, humming a gentle tune between his lips-and you couldn't help but smile, wondering if that was the very song they were about to play.

"This is all for you by the way," Younghyun cut in, a malicious smirk playing on the sides of his lips as you turned to him, "-We have a school recital tomorrow, and we've practically practiced this song till we could play it with closed eyes-but our naughty youngest absolutely insisted on playing this instead of anything else, just because of his-"

"OKAY, OKAY, I think that's about enough." Dowoon shouted obnoxiously, with a slightly annoyed, slightly red look on his face, and everyone started to laugh.

"Take it away then, drummer boy." you said enthusiastically, remaining rooted to the ground in anticipation.

You definitely weren't ready for the moment he started to position those drumsticks of his.

As the guitar kicked off the song, while layered by the low consistency of the bass, you smiled unconsciously as you let the melody hum in your voice softly. It was in A major, a nice, steady rhythm; and more so when a string of clashes echoed from the cymbals, not too far away from where you were-before there was another silvery tap, followed up by what sounded like the rustle of leaves.

Then, as the melody descended down a few keys, Jaehyung rasped gently into the mic, like the soft blow of the night breeze surrounding you.

Every day I lived like I was dead But you

Became the reason For me to get up Once more You made me wanna open my eyes

In sync with the bass, your heart thumped against your chest-and you stared at Dowoon, who gave you a small smile, before going into a rapid flurry of beats yet again.

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby

The reason for all this looked back at you knowingly, with the same spark of faith spinning confidently in his eyes; as if he understood what he meant to you, and then, the night sky seemed to tear down from the face of the earth, and enclasp itself in the centre of his eyes.

I used to never wait for tomorrow But you Became the reason For me to take one more step Not too far ahead You held out your hand to me

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby The bass suddenly made no more sound, and soon, the music stopped with your heart.

"You must be confused now." Dowoon's low voice suddenly whispered at a distance awfully near where you were standing, and startling you; yet resonating so comfortingly in your ears while he spoke.

As he locked eyes with yours, the light promisingly dancing on the sides of his pupils held the lights of the stars in them-still the ones of a child, maybe even believing more than ever; and in all your awe you began to speak hastily, not knowing what to do.

"I-I don't know, I'm happy-and these words are what I've been meaning to say to you for the longest time, you mean a lot to me, and heck, I don't even know if I could have survived running without you, there's no way you could have known-"

"These words are the words I want to say to you too."

Your eyes widened as he said those words hopefully, taking your wrists-and all the signs of red surfacing across his cheeks, with the smiles that only he could have made you smile with; to the unsure, dull gaze you had seen at your first meeting, to the beautiful, starry sky you could barely fathom in the depth of his big, believing eyes.

"I wanted to drop by your school to visit, but I heard from your friends that you were hurting a lot today, so I didn’t end up going." he said quietly, now holding up the wrist with the thin, ugly scar zipped across it and kissing it; at that moment, you could barely believe the warmth that was withheld between every fibre in the soft, pillowy surface as Dowoon looked up at you again. "And I don't want to leave you like that again. Thank you for understanding me with that kind heart of yours, when I could barely have the willpower to train the batch, and bringing me so much happiness."

He paused for a bit, and as if his voice was a conductor, your breath halted simultaneously-before he opened his mouth again, and eagerly said the words that would change your life forever.

"I want to run with you forever."

You could barely contain yourself from crying again when the feelings gushed to your head, came raining down from your eyes as tears, and through all your emotions, you nodded vigorously.

"I want to do the same, Dowoon," you sniffed, barely stabilising yourself as you felt his callused hands land on your shoulders gently, holding you close to his chest, rising and falling in waves-he too, was crying; and you never wanted to leave that place again.

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby

From that day on, both of you ran not only across the running track in your school, but in the race of life, hand in hand-smiles being the breath in each other's lungs, and love being the reason to keep going.

Only your love could make the me who was stuck run again.

______________________

HECK THIS WAS SO CRINGEY AND CORNY IM SORRY ILL EDIT IT WHEN I HAVE TIME LOL!!! ugh I had sm fun tho lol Dowoon is really so precious and amazing aaaa ;;; also, I feel like I was only able to write this so well because of God, who plays the character of Dowoon and way more than that in my life-being the breath in my lungs and the reason to keep going, so really, all the glory be to Him, I have never wrote with such understanding of a concept like love and He really is so omnipresent and amazing in even everything I write even if I don't mention Him directly!!!

hehe I really like this story uwu its not the best and its way too long than it should have been but it will hold a special place in my heart!! to the anon that requested this I'm sorry if u expected a short read with a much more light hearted topic to 'cheering you up after a bad day at school' JHDSJKFHS HAHAHAHA gosh anyway I hope y'all enjoyed this if you even finished it, thanks for your support!! I'm writing this on my birthday so I gotta go sleep now, happy 2019 to everyone!

#admin n #day6 scenarios #yoon dowoon #better better #uwu

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