#because they have heard our cries for bigger pockets

[pastafossa]

Don't worry, ladies. The Men Designers have heard our cry for bigger better pockets, and have decided what we REALLY mean is that our tiny lady pockets make us look fat, so we still get tiny ass, useless pockets, BUT NOW THEY SQUISH YOUR PESKY BODY IN, YOU'RE WELCOME.

#tw: fat shaming #in other words i went jean shopping today #and saw this tag while shopping #and briefly went 'secret pocket???' like damn if i can't get bigger ones i'll at least take more #but no #because they have heard our cries for bigger pockets #and decided #that what we really want is SLIMMING pockets #YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS I JUST WANT TO PUT MY PHONE IN MY POCKET #OR MY FUCKING KEYS

[neonponders]

Part 21 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🎀

Part 20

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Steve had to admit that things moved a bit too fast for both his and Eddie’s liking. Because now he nearly jumped out of his skin as the doorbell rang while little Chrissy and Eddie played in the shoebox room.

Little Steve and Billy had gone with Big Eddie and Billy to Eddie’s trailer. That was the sticking point. Neither Steve nor Eddie wanted to trade littles, but all three of them agreed that overwhelming Chrissy was not the best idea.

“Billy - ” Steve had tried before they left, but Billy put a hand on his shoulder to hold him at bay.

“I won’t lose them. Relax.”

“You’re not the problem. They’re tiny and they wander - ”

“They’ve got two pairs of eyes on them,” Billy reminded with a look at Eddie, however Eddie mirrored Steve’s anxiety.

“Need I remind you that mine has wings? He’s not pocket-bound like the others.”

Billy sighed, “Between Chrissy and Steve - ”

“Robin.”

Billy and Eddie looked at him, the latter barking, “Buckley? What about Buckley, Steve?”

“She’s on her way, and she already knows about mine and Billy’s. You’re right, I’m not stupid enough to try and look after Eds alone.”

Eddie took a deep breath, beginning to bounce on the balls of his feet, but that did give him enough reassurance to stop arguing.

Steve looked to Billy a final time, who wore a soft smile as he looked down at his shirt pocket. “You chipmunks ready?”

“Weady!” they sang.

“Where do you wive, Eddie?”

“Under a waterfawll?”

“Is yourw carw woud and bwue wike Biwwy’s?”

“What food is therwe?”

Eddie exhaled something almost like relief as he followed Billy out of the house.

Now Steve answered the door and huffed with unresolved anxiety. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Robin snarked. “That kind of attitude shouldn’t be allowed before 11am.”

“Sorry, I’m just waiting for Chrissy.”

“I know,” she consoled, having already heard a short version of the story over the phone. “Where are the new tinies?”

She followed Steve into the living room, where he called, “Eddie? Chrissy? Do you wanna meet Robin?”

Robin froze when the lid on the shoebox popped up and landed askew. Steve reminded, “Use the doors, Eddie.”

Robin sank onto the couch as the little Eddie walked out of the box holding Chrissy’s hand. Robin inhaled in awe and smiled warmly. “Pretty. Hi, Chrissy. I’m Robin.”

A little hand waved up at her but Chrissy hugged Eddie close and introduced, “This’s Eddie.”

“Hey, Eddie...are those wings? Ohmygod.”

Eddie flew up with Chrissy hanging from his hand like a keychain. Steve cried, “Eddie!” as he held his hands underneath to catch her.

Robin outright caught them both and fumed, “You can’t just fly someone up without their permission.”

The bubbly giggling Chrissy wasn’t adding to this lesson, and she said on Robin’s palm, “I like to fwy.”

“That’s fine, but he still needs to warn you first,” Robin sighed as Eddie had more trouble getting his bearings with his wings in the way. “Does the bigger Munson have wings we don’t know about?”

Robin helped the little guy up so a wing could free itself from underneath his body while Chrissy said, “Eddie’s wings arwe pwetty. They’rwe on his skin.”

“Oh,” Steve realized. “Tattoos.”

Robin frowned. “By that logic, B should have two heads.”

Before anyone could respond, the doorbell rang. Eddie and Chrissy popped up on Robin’s hands, looking hopefully and anxiously between them. Steve announced, “That’s probably her. You guys ready?”

Eddie said loudly, “Nay! Is she weady for us?”

Steve frowned. “Was...that a no, or...?”

“Just answer the door,” Robin hushed. As he left to do that, she held the littles’ gaze. “Give her a minute to get comfortable, okay? Follow our lead.”

Both Eddie and Chrissy saluted and went into the shoebox room when they were set down. Robin adjusted the lid back onto the box as Steve and the bigger Chrissy entered the room. She smiled, “Hey. Robin, right?”

Robin brightened. “That’s right. I didn’t think you’d noticed with...all the flips and stuff during practice.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. “What are you doing at cheer practice?”

Chrissy answered, “We share the gym with the band when the weather is bad.”

“Oh,” Steve nodded and started toward the kitchen. “What do you want to drink?”

“Just water, thanks.”

As Chrissy sat down, Robin watched Steve pantomime fainting behind her with a dainty hand on his forehead. Robin controlled her face and scratched her scalp, making her middle finger particularly prominent.

“Not to be one of those people who can only talk about work, but I never see you come around.”

Chrissy nodded like an apology. “I like movies, but cheer practice goes late. The sports teams have seasons, but we’re all year.”

Steve returned with a pyramid of water bottles in his hands. “That seems unfair, that you don’t get a break.”

“It’s good for the school, that we’re able to sustain some kind of sport for every season. Other schools that only have football or basketball give their cheer squads a break.”

“Do you have a favorite? That’s for both of you,” he added for Robin’s benefit.

Robin answered, “Any traveling games, for me. Any reason to get out of Hawkins.”

Chrissy smiled. “I always like the swim meets. We haven’t gotten to do many of those since you graduated.”

Robin’s eyes tilted at Steve, equally annoyed and fond, as he beamed. Before he inflated himself too much, she said, “The swim coach comes into Family Video sometimes, always implying that Steve would make a good assistant coach.”

Steve picked up, “More like he’s tired of the one he has.”

Chrissy’s features opened as she encouraged, “That’s a good idea, though. Remember when you used our pom poms and made Renée Connors pee herself?”

Steve and Robin burst out into laughter. Chrissy joined them and insisted, “People look up to you! You help them want to be there. That’s so much better than a drill sergeant coach.”

Steve recovered, “I think it was a combination of the speedo and pom poms, but yeah, that was a great day. You got bumped up to cheer captain that week, didn’t you?”

She gave her ponytail a toss and smiled proudly. “Something was in the air.”

And then she shrieked as the shoebox lid flipped off. Steve’s eyes went huge as he stared at Eddie yelling, “HEWWO!”

Robin caught her face in her hands. “Subtle, slick.”

He frowned at her, jumping up and down on one of the beds, using his wings for extra air time. “You said a minute!”

Steve tried to find some kind of conversational bandaid for this as he watched Chrissy slowly recovering and leaning forward. “Chris, I’m sorry. This was supposed to be slow - shit.”

“Too swow!” little Eddie chided and waved. “Hi, Chwissy! I’m Eddie!”

Chrissy just watched him, speechless. Robin and Steve exchanged worried looks and she asked, “How do we explain this?”

“I still haven’t figured that out. But, uh...you know regular Eddie Munson, right? There’s now a small one - they’re not the same. Eddie dropped them off, but we didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by too many guys in the house.”

“I’m the emotional support bro,” Robin said flatly.

“Robin,” he clipped.

“Them?” Chrissy said quietly.

Steve took a deep breath and called, “Chrissy? Do you wanna come out? You don’t have to if you want to stay in there.”

The cutout door folded open as little Chrissy emerged. Big Chrissy’s concentrated frown spread apart in a look of wonder, and perhaps a little fear.

Steve counted on his fingers as he tallied off, “They’re real, little people. They’re not dolls. They have feelings - ”

“I had a dream like this.”

Steve froze and Robin blurted. “What? ”

“I, uh,” she shook her head to move her bangs out of the way of her eyes. “I don’t know. You forget dreams when you wake up, right? I didn’t think...or. Um.”

Robin supplied, “There’s a little Eddie Munson right there. You can consider the cat out of the bag.”

“Robin,” Steve hissed, but he prioritized sitting on the floor and putting a hand near small Chrissy, just in offering. She accepted and sat on his fingers.

Chrissy watched this, as well as Eddie finally landing and walking out of the box to come stand next to little Chrissy. Her jaw hung open until she caught it in her hands, holding her mouth while she processed.

“Wait, you said Eddie dropped them off here?”

Steve nodded and Chrissy thought aloud, “Then...he knows? He knows.”

“If it helps,” Steve offered, “He’s with Billy Hargrove, who has our own littles with him. We’re all figuring this out as we go, but so far it’s you, Eddie, me, and Billy.”

Chrissy looked at Robin. “Do you...?”

She shook her head. “I don’t have one. Yet. I mean, they seem to be coming in pairs and I haven’t dreamt about anyone recently. Steve?”

“Robin,” he refused with a tone implying he wasn’t talking about his dreams any time soon.

Little Eddie bounced like his bigger self as Chrissy leaned forward and carefully reached out her hand. “Hi, Chris...”

The little one hopped up and rushed toward her fingertips, an emotional dam finally breaking. Chrissy gasped a little when their skin touched, no doubt feeling the same rush of warmth that Billy and Steve experienced.

Little Chrissy’s cheeks bloomed pink as Chrissy smiled down at her. She looked up at Eddie, whose wings had wilted lower and lower. “Eddie?”

His wings sprang up but he ran for her -

“Oh, gosh!” Chrissy exclaimed when he crash landed onto her palm, passed out.

Robin wondered aloud, “I think a fuse blew.”

Steve consoled, “I think he’s been waiting for you a long time. He’ll be fine.”

#harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #like magnets #i like girls named chris all right orz

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

#acab

[1025cherrystreet]

funeral

y/n attends a funeral and feels hopeless after losing her best friend until she meets her late bsf's cousin Harry.

a/n: this is for @harrystylescherry​ Playlist Fic Challenge!!! this is inspired by the song Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers. i used the name Phoebe in the story but i wasn't picturing Phoebe Bridgers when I was writing that character, i just liked the name and decided to go with it! but, y'all can picture her however y'all like lol. i went from loving this story to hating it, but i hope y'all like it! any feedback is appreciated!! <3

**despite it being surrounded by depressing matters, it's actually a cute and fluffy story lol! just wanted to point that out because i, myself, kinda avoid reading sad stories

warnings: a LOT of talk about death and dying and funerals, mentions depression/depressive episode?, mentions drugs and alcohol, swearing. i'm ceo of rushing the ending, soz <3 (also, gave up on proofreading lmao)

word count: 8k+ (this is the longest piece i've ever written lol)

Y/N has this dream. Where she's screaming underwater while her friends are waving at her from the shore. She's desperately calling for them, hoping and waiting for them to help, but, seemingly, her friends can't hear... and can't help. Submerged beneath the thrashing waters, her wails fall silent; her familiars deaf to her pleads. The more she struggles to get to the surface for air, the deeper she sinks. Her friends just waving at her as she drifts to the bottom. Every time she jolts awake from these dreams in a sweat stained bed and sticky clothes, she decides to brush it off. Not wanting to think about the problems she needs to face or what she needs to work on. Always concluding that she doesn't need anyone to tell her what it means or overanalyze her life through misplaced visions. Deciding to not believe assumptions made from vague, painful pictures.

As the familiar sinking feeling in her chest starts yet again, Y/N snaps her eyes up at the casket as the sound of her best friend's mother releasing a heart wrenching sob catches her focus.

The contrast of the white roses that lay on top of Phoebe's mahogany stained casket almost glow in the evening light, seeming like a mock to such a somber evening. The way the living looks so effervescent and bright, casting shadows on the less fortunate. The dead never celebrated in such light but rather mourned in dim grief and sadness.

Y/N doesn't like funerals, and not just because her best friend of 10 years is the recipient of this one. She's never cared for them. Believing they're just an excuse to get over the one they are to be honoring, they carry a stigma that everyone in attendance has to cry or you're seen as heartless, while the people who were never close to the deceased are presumed fake for showing emotion. Y/N thinks they're a big joke... with a cruel, cruel punchline.

The sound of despondent music playing and cries ring throughout the cemetery as Phoebe's casket is lowered six feet into the ground. The unchecked emotions start to boil inside of Y/N. Anger boiling deep inside of her quickly reaching its point, anger that stems from betrayal, that stems from hurt, that stems from...loss. She quietly scoffs, shaking her head with a stone cold look, before quickly getting up and walking away from the ceremony as her late friend's uncle, Bill, wraps up his poor excuse of a eulogy.

Phoebe wouldn't have wanted this. She wouldn't have wanted people to cry over her casket, stuck laying in a padded box while people who don't even know the real her, speak of her existence like they were the best of friends. They weren't. She was. Y/N was her best friend. These people don't... didn't know her like Y/N does. It's all bullshit.

In Y/N's quick pace away from the tent around the damp open ground, she spots a bigger gravestone with a stone bench built into it and takes a seat.

She inhales deeply, taking a moment to herself to look up at the sky. The clouds that overcast part of the blue sky drifting farther away from the graveyard as the sun starts making its way to set. She breathes in, the delightful scent of honeysuckle and dewy grass filling her nose before it's tainted by fumes of petrol from the road just on the other side of the cemetery gates behind her. It's so unfair; why of all people did Phoebe have to-

"It's all a joke," A deep accent says to her left.

She almost jumps out of her seat when she turns to the man who took the empty spot next to her. Jesus Christ, where the fuck did he come from? she thinks to herself. He had brown curly hair and green eyes (well, thinking green from what she can gather staring at the side of his face), wearing a black suit with a black button up shirt underneath. Rings clad his fingers and the sunset gleam shines off his cross necklace. She stares wide-eyed at him for a few moments before shaking her head to get out of her daze.

"Huh?" She says when she realizes he had spoken before.

"It's all a big joke," He repeats himself, the British accent more noticeable this time around. His head faced towards the funeral, having not spared a glance at her once this whole time.

She settles back into her seat, shifting her gaze to match his with the group of mourning people in the distance.

"Yeah." Y/N sighs in agreement.

The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Y/N decides to speak. Thinking to herself that if anyone would listen to her thoughts, a man who's also ditching the shitty eulogy would be her best bet.

"They all talk about her as if she was God." She chuckles humorlessly.

He scoffs with a small smirk, "Far from it."

Another wave of silence crashes over them, before Y/N breaks it once again.

"She would've hated this," She whispers, "People she barely even knows crying over her like they had any significance in her life. She probably only talked to five people here. She didn't even like her uncle." She laughs, referencing the man who gave the half-assed eulogy about how Phoebe being such an innocent, bright young girl.

"They're grieving her loss instead of celebrating her life, it's all fucked," He clears his throat before continuing, "Funerals are for the living."

"I hate funerals..." She says in reply.

Glancing at the boy beside her when she hears him digging through his jacket pocket, pulling out a flask.  He takes a sip, and another, before gesturing it to her. Not overthinking it too much, she takes the cool metal bottle and takes a big gulp. Tasting the burn of vodka in her throat and mint from what she supposes is the mysterious strangers mouth.

Handing the flask back she says, "She would've wanted a party. Something where everyone was having fun in her honor, not some substandard funeral full of random people and careless words."

This time he's the one who chuckles humorlessly, "Yeah, she would've wanted everyone t'take shots and dress up in fancy clothes n' wreak havoc on this fucking town,"

Y/N smiles at this because Phoebe really would. Phoebe was the type of person who everyone wanted to be friends with, but also who everyone was scared of. She was mysterious and intimidating (a bit like the man next to her, Y/N thinks). Phoebe was a master at persuasion and could get almost anyone to go on crazy fucking adventures with her. One of Y/N's favorite memories with Phoebe was when they dressed up in wedding dresses they had gotten from a second-hand store and walked down the street yelling random things at strangers, taking turns drinking tequila from a metal water bottle.

"She really was something else, huh?" Y/N says a bit somberly, reminiscing on her late best friend.

"Definitely, a know-it-all," He laughs, bringing the flask up to his mouth.

"Oh, of course, she always thought she was right." She smirks.

"I mean, most of the time she was." He shrugs.  

"Yeah, how did she always know everything?" The two of you laugh, taking turns drinking from the flask.

He shakes his head in disbelief, silence settling over the pair again.

"How did you know her?" He asks, still staring at the gathering of people in the distance.

"...She was my best friend," Y/N responds quietly, still staring out at the sunset.

He hums in return, "You?" She asks as she hands the flask over.

"Her cousin." His rough voice speaks out.

"You're Harry?" She says, less as a question and more in disbelief. Phoebe always mentioned her cousin Harry from England, always telling Y/N of stories they had together getting into reckless shit.

She turns her head to look at him just as he does, "And you're Y/N."

He offers a soft, knowing smile, both having heard countless stories of one another from Phoebe. He leans back and extends his arm on the top of the bench behind her, feeling the warmth of his body radiate off of him.

"I wonder what she'd say to me now. Sitting on a random gravestone in our hometown, drinking out of her cousin's flask, ditching what's supposed to be her remembrance." Y/N says, leaning back on the bench too.

"She would've said, 'quit y'crying, it's a sign of the times' and then would drag your arse t'the nearest pub." He laughs.

She joins in on the soft laughter, shaking her head because she knows that's exactly what she would've said. Phoebe was such a joy to be around, her presence unmatched.

"You know, she always talked about wanting to leave a legacy behind. Most of the time, I just laughed at her, thinking it was just another bizarre thing to come out of her mouth. But, she was always saying she wanted to be remembered as some enigma when she dies..." Y/N recalls the many memories of her and Phoebe staying up til 4am talking. Chills suddenly covering her body, not only from the cool Winter air but because of how Phoebe had talked about her death and now she's actually...dead.

She turns her head to look at Harry and he has a bittersweet smile on his face.

"I think she's accomplished that quite well, hasn't she?" He replies.

"How?" She questions softly with furrowed brows.

"Well, f'starters, her funeral is full of people who never even knew her, or frankly even cared about her, while two emotionless people just got up and stormed away from it t'drink vodka out of a flask on some random person's gravestone." He laughs before tacking on, "Trust me, the people over there are wondering who the hell she was and who she knew, right about now."

She turns her head from the (quite pretty, she thinks) boy to her left, looking at the wake, only to be met with a few people staring back at them.

"Well, I'll be damned," She scoffs. "Of course, the bitch did it." A smile bright on her face, probably the only real grin she's pulled since Phoebe's passing. Her best friends wishes coming true makes her heart warm just a tad, a relief to how cold losing her best friend made it.

"Always able t'make her life seem like an episode of Pretty Little Liars." He says shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

This comment makes Y/N laugh quite loudly, drawing a few — what she could only think were glares — back at her. Wiping a stray tear from her face that fell due to her laughing. The sweet sound coming from her lips only tacking on Harry to join her.

"Oh my god, she practically lived in an indie movie, always the role of the mysterious main character!" She chuckled out, creases forming at the corners of her eyes that Harry has taken a liking to.

As both of their laughter slowly dies out, another silence comes over them; only this time it's almost deafening. It's like the weight of the matter finally settled in.

Harry lets out a deep sigh, staring out at the never ending field of stone. Flowers accompany very few of the many graves; some wilted, some looking fresh, some long gone by now. Name placards littering the ground, all of these lost and forgotten people just decomposing underneath them. People coming and going to visit, only to be forgotten as time goes by, memories fading from their loved ones' mind. He wonders if he could ever forget Phoebe. No, I could never, he thinks to himself. He could never forget the only person that ever truly believed in him and embraced him for being himself.

Deciding he doesn't want to give anymore thought to the painful insight that one day he might forget Phoebe, he asks Y/N something instead.

"Y'wanna get out of here? M'starvin'."

The quiet girl next to him looks his way, his green eyes meeting her's that shine in the last few minutes of orange sunlight. Her eyes are so pretty, he tries to mentally shake that thought out of his head. He can't be hitting on his late cousin's best friend at her funeral, for fuck's sake.

Y/N only nods in response, gathering her bag and phone before standing from the bench. Harry towers over her when he gets up and the observation of how tall her his makes Y/N feel all giddy inside for some reason. Placing the flask back in his suit jacket pocket, he leads the way to a small restaurant nearby. She walks beside him the whole way there, the two of them just quietly observing everything around them.

***

The crisp, cool air passes through, goosebumps creeping up their arms as they sit in the outside seating of a small restaurant. Comfortable silence wraps them up and spits them out as their minds explore all the vast depths of their troubled minds, giving them time for their treacherous thoughts to eat at their sanity bit by bit.

"Phoebe told me once," Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the scratchy feeling from not using it. Harry's green eyes moved to her from his observance of the lonely street they're next to as she spoke softly. "She told me the only time she truly felt alive was when she made decisions that were reckless and spontaneous. She said living her life precariously was the only reason for her happiness, claiming that the perfect life is just an illusion. That dreaming of labor should not be the goal, but instead becoming your authentic self and living with no regrets..."

Harry stays quiet, reflection in his eyes as he stares at her from across the table, chewing the food in his mouth. Y/N plays around with the food on her plate with her fork and waits for his acknowledgment (although, she doesn't even know if he would say or do anything -- she doesn't know why she decided to tell him that)

"I mean, she's right, righ'? I never understood when people would ask what your 'dream job' is from a young age. No one's dream is t'work everyday 'til they die. They have to, t'make a living and survive, but what's the point in living if you aren't enjoyin' it. But, if y'workin' all the time, how do you make the time to really live?" He says, furrowing his brows as he talks.

Y/N takes in his words. The moonlight and street lamps casting a soft glow on his face, his carved features looking even more beautiful at night.

"Yeah... I guess, I guess I just envy how she viewed life, ya know?" She states, looking at the cars drive by as she tries to explain how she feels. "Always saying things to make you rethink your existence and purpose..." She looks back at Harry and whispers, "...She talked about life so much like she knew she was going to die."

"Well, we're all gonna die eventually." Harry rests his arms on the table with a quiet sigh, his features passive, but his mind is thinking of how he just wants to hug her and tell her everything is going to be alright.

"Yeah, but she just...she talked about it like she knew all the answers. She knew exactly what to say, when to say it. Sometimes, I feel like she was telling everyone around her how to live in complete happiness because she knew she didn't have much of her own, despite convincing everyone she was carefree and unbothered." Y/N shrugs and watches as they fall into a short silence.

"...I miss her." Harry breathes out after a moment, reaching his hand across the table to hold hers. Her skin is soft against his as he rubs his thumb against her hand in an attempt to comfort both of them.

Her eyes soaking in his softened expression, her cherry tinted lips whispering, "Me too."

They eat the rest of their dinner in silence, the only sounds reverberating from the road with the occasional car or pedestrian. Harry pays for the food, but not without many protests from Y/N.

As the two walk side by side down the street, back to the cemetery to pick up their cars, Y/N suddenly falls anxious. She doesn't want to be alone tonight, scared of being alone with her thoughts when she goes back to stay in her childhood home. Her parents, still living in the house they lived in since her youth, had to drive up to another town for a few nights to stay with her cousins because they planned to go there before the news broke about Phoebe. Leaving Y/N alone in the empty house since there wasn't room for her at her cousins.

The black cemetery gates coming into view, eeriness and gloom becoming more apparent when the sun is down, Y/N and Harry can see their two cars sitting idly on the side of the road. Y/N fidgets with her fingers as they grow close to departure.

"D-do you, maybe, wanna hang out for a little while longer?" She turns to face him, looking up at him nervously. "I just don't want to be alone right now." She rushes out when he doesn't respond.

"Yeah, I didn't really want t'go home alone right now either." He offers a sliver of a smile before unlocking his car, grabbing two brown paper bags that look to hold bottles, and gesturing his head, "C'mon, we'll pick up my car later. Let's go celebrate Pheebz, yeah?" He grins.

She smiles at him, unlocking her own car and waiting for him to get in, putting on a playlist full of Phoebe's favorite songs. She drives through her hometown, memories stirring up of her and her best friend smoking weed in the park the summer before graduation and jumping in the lake naked in the middle of winter. The two end up at her house sitting in her abandoned driveway, both unbuckling but neither making the move to get out of the parked car, the engine still running as they sit listening to the melodies playing from the speaker.

Harry suddenly pulls out two bottles from the brown paper bags at his feet, one of vodka and the other tequila.

"Pick y'poison." He says with a smirk.

She picks the vodka and Harry mutters, "Good choice, tequila is more m'speed."

"Weren't you drinking vodka at the funeral?" She laughs, unscrewing the cap.

"Yeah, figured I'd drink Phoebe's favorite since it was her party." He chuckles.

"To Phoebe." Y/N says, sorrow lacing her voice as she turns in her seat to face Harry.

"To living your life precariously." He says before the two of them take a big gulp of the sharp liquid, starting what will only be the beginning of a long night.

***

Light shines through the white curtains, the room glowing bright in the soft, yellow sunlight. The white comforter tangled up in bodies as birds chirp in the morning tranquility. Y/N's eyes flutter open, immediately feeling sweaty and clammy. The headache that sets in reminds her of the amount of alcohol she consumed last night. Waking up in her childhood bed after blacking out in the backseat of her car the night before doing very little for her sanity.

As she lays in bed, groggy, she needs to pee. She moves to get up and walk to the bathroom connected to her room, only to freeze when an arm wraps around her and pulls her closer. Warm breathes pant at the back of her neck, unintelligible murmurs coming from the person behind her. Her eyes widen, realizing Harry is the one she is snuggling with in the early morning (afternoon?) light. Despite needing to pee really badly, she finds herself only melting into his touch. She can't remember the last time someone held her like this, can't remember the last time she felt this content. In fact, she thinks the last time she cuddled with someone was with Phoebe when she slept over in her room at their apartment... Well, just Y/N's apartment now.

Y/N and Phoebe would have movie nights in Y/N's room and in the midst of the fun, they would grow tired. Phoebe would never want to leave the comfort of Y/N's warm bed, so she always asked, sleepover?, with a wide grin. To which Y/N never refused and the two would put on The Notebook and fall asleep spooning one another. The first time it happened, when they were children having sleepovers, she tensed a bit; thinking it weird for her friend to cuddle her because no one had ever done that. But, as the years went by and their friendship grew stronger, knowing that despite both of them being bisexual it wasn't an act of intimacy, but one of platonic comfort.

So, Y/N figured (in her touch deprived mind) that this was just an act of friendly, platonic intimacy...nothing else. After coming to that conclusion, she let herself relax into his touch, his warm embrace nodding her off to sleep once again.

What wakes her up the second time is the sound of a gravelly voice groaning. The arm around her waist squeezes tightly before the body it's attached to tenses up. Harry tries to take in the position they're in -- his arm snuggling her close to his bare chest and legs intertwined with hers -- but his hangover headache clouds his mind too much to think about it. Only registering that he's never felt this comfortable with someone before, never felt someone so warm and cozy. He's cuddled lots of girls (and guys), has spent many mornings waking up in someones hold or holding someone in his, but they've never been as addicting as her. Never being so relaxing, so soft. He's about to just say, fuck it, and fall back asleep as to spend as much time with her in his clutch, but Y/N had stirred awake from his groaning and she really has to pee!

She slowly turns in his arms, their legs shifting apart, and is met with probably the cutest sight she's ever seen. His eyes are glassy and the green of his irises shine in the soft light. His lips pink and his face holding a hesitant look, like he thinks she might yell at him for accidentally ending up in his arms throughout the night, but she can also sense the underlying feeling of content reading on his face. The way his eyes soften when they meet hers and the way his hand involuntarily squeezes at her side. The serene feeling almost tangible as her childhood room becomes their own little world. All the responsibilities and pain of the outside fall ceased at the door decorated with heights of a growing Y/N.

"G'morning," His gravelly voice going straight to her heart, melting it at the beautiful sound.

"Good morning," She says in a raspy whisper, her throat dry from the alcohol and singing at the top of her lungs the night before.

She takes the quiet moment to look at his body, her gaze drifting from tattoo to tattoo, not realizing how many he has. She knew he had some from the ones on his hands yesterday, but she didn't know he had so many. His long sleeve button up had covered the view of the ones adorning his arms, but she looks at them now in awe, thinking how pretty they are.

She's about to tell him how much she likes the butterfly tattoo on his chest, when her bladder has other plans.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to pee," She bashfully smiles as she looks at him.

"Oh, m'sorry. Probably should've told ya' I'm a cuddler." He gives a small smile with embarrassment soaking his words, thinking he's made her uncomfortable.

"No need to apologize," Her eyes light up at his out of character shyness, "I am too, I just really have to go to the bathroom." The harmonious sound of her giggles soothing every worry in Harry's body.

He playfully sighs, "Fine, I guess I'll let y'go piss."

A smirk pulls at his lips as she rolls her eyes and gets up, but he can see the corners of her lips turn up.

She goes to the bathroom, doing her business and washing her hands. She takes the time to brush her teeth and wash her face, cringing when she looks in the mirror. She feels gross that she looked like this when Harry woke up with the resemblance of an angel.

When she's finished, she walks out back into her room, excited to get back into the warm bed (and hopefully cuddle with Harry some more, but she would never admit that out loud), but she's met with abandoned sheets and panic consumes her. Did he leave? Did I make him uncomfortable by waking up in his arms? He was the one to cuddle me and he joked about it! But maybe he was just trying to be nice so he could escape? Her mind starts to race a mile a minute of anxious thoughts before they're all suddenly wiped away at the smell of coffee wafting in from the open doorway.

She throws on a sweatshirt and socks and makes her way down the stairs of the familiar, yet foreign after spending so long away from home, house. Her sock clad feet pad on the hardwood floors as she walks into the kitchen, spotting Harry silently staring at a spot on the wall with a cup of coffee in his hand (he's using the same pink and green mug with a little ceramic pig sitting on the top of the handle that Phoebe would use every time she'd sleepover in high school).

She walks in quietly, coming up behind him and grabbing a cup of coffee for herself, noticing the two pain killers next to the pot (which made her heart swell if she's honest). He had heard her coming down the stairs, but despite her presence his focus is still on the spot on the wall. Taking a sip of her pick-me-up and swallowing the pills, she takes up space next to Harry, following his eyes that stare intently at a picture frame hanging up and her eyes immediately soften.

"That was freshman year," Y/N spoke delicately, staring at the picture herself, "We had both been asked to prom by these senior guys. I was ecstatic because no one had ever shown any liking to me, but Phoebe had played it cool, of course." Harry lets out a quiet breathy laugh because of course Phoebe didn't care.

"We spent weeks planning out how prom night would be. Imagining how the senior parties would be like and if the boys would kiss us by the end of the night or not. She came over at 9am the morning of the dance and we spent all day getting ready and laughing with each other. She had even done my makeup all pretty and I helped her get into her dress. I remember I laughed when she decided she was going to wear converse under her dress, and she almost convinced me to do it too because she said 'you're not gonna be the one laughing when we're at all the after parties and your feet are killing you'." A genuine smile forms on Y/N's face as she reminisces on the cherished moment.

"But, two hours before the dance, our dates cancelled on us and told us they were going with these senior girls." Harry scoffs bitterly, understanding how cruel teenage boys are.

"I remember I was so upset because the one time I thought someone actually liked me or thought I was pretty enough to go to prom with, had just made me a second choice..." She recalls to Harry, who is now looking at the side of her face as she looks at the picture of Phoebe carrying Y/N on her back, piggy-back style, in long prom dresses, dirty white converse peaking out from under both girls' dresses.

"So, she grabbed me by the arms and looked me in the eyes and said 'Y/N L/N, we are deserving of the love we wish for. No senior boys are going to make us doubt that. We are not little freshmen girls who can be seen as cheap thrills and easy hookups. We are women, who demand respect and complete infatuation.' Then she took the tickets that the boys had pre-purchased for us, took my hand, and dragged me to that dance. We had been each other's date and made prom our bitch. She even got us into a party afterward...And we had one hell of a night."

She smiles fondly at the sweet memory. Harry's eyes flutter between the picture and the beautiful girl next to him. How could she ever think of herself as a second choice?, is all he can wonder to himself.

Letting his gaze fall to the picture one last time, he mumbles, "Well, those boys missed out on the best thing t'ever happen t'them."

He doesn't catch Y/N's blush that creeps up on her cheeks as he turns around, taking a sip from his little pig mug.

She shakes her head as to get out of the crushing haze she falls into, turning and walking to the countertop, leaning against it as Harry stands in front of her on the other side.

"Thank you. F'letting me stay the night, last night." He speaks up.

Y/N notices how he's still lacking a shirt, making her mouth dry up just a little at the sight of how fit he is. The tattoos stretching across his tan skin so perfectly, the black ink creating such a beautiful contrast on his body. He catches onto the not-so-subtle gawking and smirks.

"Uh, yeah. It's really no problem. There's no way I'd have let you drive home intoxicated and it was the least I could do after I made you practically spend the day with me." She blushes.

"Y'didn't make me," He shakes his head gently with a smile.

Y/N doesn't know to feel about how her cheeks heat up at his remark, shyly looking away as the teasing gleam in his eyes might make her combust.

"O-okay. Good to know." She squeaks out, the action only fueling Harry's ego and playful mood.

"I should go get m'car from the cemetery before it gets towed," He says almost disappointedly, like he doesn't want to leave yet. If she's being honest, she doesn't want him to leave yet either.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be good. I'll give you a ride." She says, shaking off the saddened feeling of his departure.

"Oh, you don't have t'do tha'." He shakes his head but Y/N quickly shoots him down.

"Nonsense, I'll take you. It's no big deal."

He smiles at her objection, nodding, and going upstairs to grab the rest of his clothes, feeling uncomfortable in his dress pants from the funeral that he had put back on when he got up this morning, not wanting to make Y/N feel weird by staying in only his boxers.

***

Vodka Lover: hey... are you up?

She chews on the skin around her thumb, a nervous habit that Phoebe had always teased her about, as she sends the text to Harry (having exchanged numbers when she had dropped him off at his car at the cemetery). Phoebe had always said, 'You're not gonna have any thumb left to chew, babes, if you keep at it'. To which Y/N just rolled her eyes, but in the deafening silence of 4am, she wishes she cherished those moments with her best friend more. Wishing she didn't take for granted in those little encounters of Phoebe's care and concern with her well-being. Y/N would give anything to be able to spend one more minute with her.

Butterfly Boy: yeah, everything okay?

Vodka Lover: um, can i call you?

Suddenly, breaking the bitter quiet with a ringtone, her phone she holds in her palm lights up with Harry's contact. A tear falls from her face onto the screen and she has to wipe it away before she presses accept.

"Y/N?" Harry's deep voice rings out, laced in worry, from the other line.

She chokes out a sob, not being able to hold it back anymore. The floodgate of her emotions she has been trying to keep at bay suddenly burst. Salty tears fall onto the blue fluffy blanket from her senior year she's wrapped up in.

"Hey, hey, s'everythin' okay? What's wrong?" Harry says, more alert now that he hears her in such a fragile and frantic state.

Y/N just cries harder, desperately trying to catch her breath, she feels like she's suffocating.

"Hey, love, just breathe. Just breathe, Y/N." He tries to coax her down in a soothing voice.

A raggedy breath is heard on Harry's side, making the worry dissipate just a little now that he knows she's breathing. Harry sits up in his bed, calling out to Y/N, repeatedly telling her to just keep breathing. He can't get to what's wrong if she hyperventilates.

He was laying restless in his bed when she had texted, lost in thoughts of life and replaying memories with his cousin. Trying to grasp everything she's ever told him before, hoping that by watching the moments he spent with her like a film reel in his mind would help him not forget them.

"Love, can y'tell me what's got you so upset? Please," He asks softly when she calms down enough where her breathing is regular and not sporadic inhales gasping for air.

"I-I-I miss her," She cries out into the phone, the thought of embarrassing herself by breaking down to Harry not on her mind; the only thought she has is how empty she feels.

"I know, I know, love. I miss her, too," He sighs out sadly, wishing he could take away her pain, hating the way her voice quivers with every word. "Do you want t'talk about it?"

She wipes the tears that sting her eyes and cascade down her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. The one she wore when Harry slept over, smelling a little like him still from the car ride to his car that day, three days ago.

They had been texting each other and talking every day since then, usually about light topics like asking how their day's were or what they were doing. However, tonight (or early morning), everything felt like it was crashing down on her. Y/N's strong front she had put up since the funeral for Phoebe's family finally collapsed, and she's found herself stuck under the rubble. She was trying so hard to keep it in because she shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself when someone's kid is dead.

She had bored herself to tears, not knowing what to do. The only thing that seemed right was to call Harry.

"Talk to me, babe." He begs her, running a hand through his disheveled curls.

"I-" She sniffles, "I feel like I'm fucking drowning,"

He hates how defeated her voice sounds and he wishes he could just be there to hug her and tell her everything's going to be okay, eventually.

"It-it feels like my whole life is in ruins. Harry, I miss her." Her face scrunches up again as she starts to sob, "Sh-She was my best friend, I d-did everything with her. How am I s-supposed to do this without her? How am I supposed t-to live without her?"

"Oh, darling. I know, but you will..and you can." He frowns, racking his brain for the right thing to tell her, "You got t'live so you can experience all those ways of life she always talked about. Y'haven't experienced all those feelings Pheebz would mention when she would live her life precariously. Don't y'want to know how she felt when she would talk of such a beautiful life she lived, yeah?"

He hears a hiccup and a quiet, albeit breathy, yeah, from the other side of the call.

"You are so strong, Y/N. I don't know how y'made it this far without breaking down..." He tells her whole-heartedly.

"D-don't know how you haven't either," She gets out, realizing how selfish she's probably being, bothering Harry with her grief when he has his own to deal with.

"Honestly," He breathes out through a somber smile, "The only reason I haven't is because I have you, love."

Y/N's heart swells tenfold, she thinks. She didn't realize Harry needed her just as much as she needed him.

"...I'm sorry for calling you, I know it's late." She says through sniffles when she notices the time.

"There's no reason to apologize. It's okay, love. It's okay to hurt or be angry or upset. No one expects you to be perfect all the time." He pauses, listening to her breathing.

"Ya know, one day, it won't hurt this much. One day, you'll be able t'look back at this moment and it won't break y'heart as much as it does now. You're just in the thick of it right now, pretty girl. But, the light's coming soon, I promise." He continues and Y/N feels her heart beat faster at the pet name.

"You promise?" Her voice barely above a whisper and Harry thinks his heart just broke at the sound.

"Promise." He says, wiping the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "Phoebe wouldn't want y'to be this upset. She would want you to keep living your life and find out the ways to how she was so in love with it. If not for yourself, love, then for her...F'me."

She nods, despite knowing he can't see. Silence falls over the pair, only the sound of bated breaths assuring the other one is there.

"One summer," He speaks up, "One summer, my family had come t'visit them, partly because of the lake near her house. It was after we had moved t'the States from Cheshire, and Phoebe and I would go walk to the little pond near the park,"

"The one near Hope?" She asks quietly if they had gone to the park she had always played at as a little girl.

"Mhm. We would walk there in the blistering sun and when we got there she tried to convince me how fairies were real." He said in a calm voice.

He hears an airy puff of breath escape her mouth, which he takes as a small giggle -- making him want to continue his story as it's helping her cheer up, and because he'd probably do anything to hear her that sound from her.

"Yeah, fairies. She told me that they live at the pond and t'see them, I would have to find a pretty flower and then jump in the water with it in only m'underwear." He breathes out a laugh.

Y/N gasps, trying to keep quiet but fails when she lets out a loud laugh.

"Oh my, did you do it?" She asks bewildered, laying down so her head rests against the pillow.

"So, I told Phoebe 'no way', yeah? But, then she said she can't just tell me about them and not follow through with seeing them. Convinced me that it would bring bad luck." He scoffs, remembering the memory vividly.

"Bad luck, indeed." She giggles and it brings the dimple out on Harry's face.

"Yeah, so of course, me being like 8 or sum', I stripped down to m'pants in the middle of the day and jumped in the water." He smiles when he hears her laughing, even if it's at his expense. "Y'laughing, but I think I got ringworm after tha'!"

"I can't believe she got you to do that! I wish I'd been there." Y/N says, out of breath from laughing.

"Scarred me of ponds for the rest of m'life." He chuckles and a pause takes them both over as they settle back down. 

"...Thank you, H." She whispers into the phone, adoration taking up all her features.

“F’what?”

“For being you, for being here. Just...Thank you.” She sighs. 

They get lost in recalling stories of their loved one for the rest of the night, repainting her memories in gold. They laugh with each other until all the pain seems to disappear. The weight, of what felt like the world, lifting off of both their shoulders. Finally being able to breathe after days of endless battles of trying to stay strong for Phoebe's sake.

***

Days pass since the lonely 4am phone call and Y/N and Harry are still talking everyday.

She finds out he lives in her city, only a few blocks from her apartment she shared with Phoebe! She didn't believe him when he first told her, but he said he was always busy with college whenever Phoebe tried to meet up. Y/N's not going to lie, her heart picked up when she found out he'd be so close to her, wondering if he'd want to hang out with her when they leave her hometown.

Almost everyday of the last few days they have visiting, they've spent at Y/N's empty childhood home. Harry asking her to explain pictures and what she was like in high school, whenever he gets the chance. In turn, she's been picking his mind on what Holmes Chapel was like and how his family was growing up. She found out that he lived with his sister, Gemma, and his mom, Anne. They talked about everything, from their favorite things to every pet they've ever had (Y/N, particularly, falling in love with the pictures of his cat, Evie).

Just as the last few days have been spent, they are spending Y/N's last day in her hometown together before she goes back. Harry told her he had to stay a couple more nights with his family before he could leave, assuring her he would've gone back with her if he could've. That comment made her blush and she had to pray the butterflies growing in her tummy to relax.

That's another thing. Y/N had stopped lying to herself and denying the ache in her chest that would form when she was away from Harry, growing very fond of him since their first encounter at the headstone bench.

Harry, also, couldn't deny any longer the way his heart would flutter at every little thing she did. Just wondering to himself how everything about her was just so pretty. He loved the way her eyes would light up every time she saw him and how he would catch her checking him out whenever he took off his shirt.

He especially loved the way she let him sleepover a few times and how they would end up cuddling into the late hours of the morning. Both parties not minding one bit, the comfort and warmth actually preferred than sending Harry home to sleep in his own bed.

"Bet I can reach that branch right there," Harry shouts with a gleeful tone, a bit out of breath as he tries to stretch his legs far enough so his shoe brushes against the leaf on the end of the tree branch.

The two of them decided to go to Hope park, where they both held fond childhood memories at. They settled at the swingset, calm swaying in the seats quickly turning into a competition of who could swing the highest. Harry won of course, his legs being much longer than hers giving him the advantage. Playful giggles and sweet conversations of things occurring in that moment help distract them from both Phoebe and the fact that Y/N is leaving.

Y/N is distracting herself from worrying about if Harry will reach out to her when they get back to the city, if he even wants to talk to her again after this weekend or if this was all just out of politeness.

Harry, on the other hand, is distracting himself from wondering if she fancies him. He wonders if the cuddles and small touches meant as much to her as they did him, if after this weekend she would want to hang out again or if she was just being nice because he knows what she's going through.

"Bet I can reach it before you!" She giggles as her hair whips around in the wind she's created. Pumping her legs back and forth, desperately trying to get higher so she can beat Harry in her made up competition.

"Now, love, not everything has to be a competition," He huffs, really reaching out this time, "But, I wanna win, if we're playing a game, I wanna win." He grins, the cute dimple that Y/N has fallen for making an appearance on his face.

The two try their hardest to be the first ones to touch the tree branch hanging not too far from their swinging feet at their highest point. Harry, however, attempts a little too hard and flies off the swing when he lifted up his leg to make the two inch gap he was short of.

Tumbling to the woodchip covered ground, he ends up laying on his back. Groans spill out of his mouth and Y/N's eyes go wide with concern. She slows herself down just enough to safely jump off the swingset, rushing to Harry's side.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She asks worriedly, trying to hold back the laugh that's trying to bust out. Crouching down to him, she runs her hand over his arm that's grabbing his leg.

He rubs his knee with a pained smile, "Yeah, just peachy, pet."

"Is anything hurting? Bruised?" She questions with a loving smile.

"Just my ego," He chuckles, looking up at her and admiring her caring nature.

She can't hold it in anymore, she laughs loudly at his comment, her carefree happiness making Harry's ears perk up and his heart warm.

"Yeah, love, just laugh at the crippled man." He jokes, smiling up at her happy face, wishing it could stay that way forever.

She lets out another laugh at his comment, delicately grabbing his arm to help him up, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It wasn't funny," She attempts to calm herself but fails, "Okay, it was a little bit funny!"

Giggles fall out of her mouth as Harry brushes off the mulch from his jeans, "See how much you're laughing when I push you out of the swing."

"I'm soo scared." She mocks fear.

"Oh, just wait, pet. You'll never be safe on another swing set again." He playfully grabs her sides to tickle her, but her fighting his tries just ends up bringing her closer in his hold.

Their laughs quickly die out when they realize he's holding her in his clutch, his hands at her waist, hers around his neck. Harry stares into her eyes as she stares back into his. The empty park is serene, no other noises besides the chirping of birds and the sounds of other animals sprawling about. The sweet moment causes Y/N's breath to hitch and her palms to sweat. They've only been this close when cuddling, she's never been this close to his face before. His features glow in the sunlight, his green irises complimenting the bounce of his skin and dark eyelashes. Her skin is soft and warm against his, and he just wants to lean in and-

Y/N's eyes flutter close as Harry's face comes closer, his lips meet hers in a gentle caress. With the sweet kiss, he takes note of how soft her lips are, how warm and fuzzy her intimate touch is making his head. While one hand is squeezing at her side, the other is brought up to cradle her face and she leans into his touch. Harry sucks on her bottom lip before peeling away so they can catch their breath.

Y/N lets out a whine at the loss of contact, her bottom lip jutting out as he pulls away.

"What are y'pouting for, pet? W-was that not okay? Should I not have done tha'?" The blood almost drains from his face at the pouty look on her beautiful face.

She shakes her head at him, "No, I liked it. I want more," She pants, pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring him back to her lips.

He chuckles at her cute antics (and in relief of not fucking up his shot with her). He smiles against her lips as he melts back into her, her hand around his neck reaching up to tangle in his curly hair. He groans when her nimble fingers pull tenderly at the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to squeeze her side gently.

She breathlessly kissed him, slotting her lips between his and immediately opening her mouth in acceptance when he brushes his tongue against her bottom lip in a silent ask to take it further. As the kiss deepens, the need for air increases. They naturally separate, Harry sucking her bottom lip as he goes until it pops back.

Taking in her reddened swollen lips and her pretty flushed face, he presses one last chaste kiss on her lips, and one to her cheek and her nose.

A big, genuine grin adorns Y/N's face as she stares up at the man in front of her.

"Thank you f'letting me do tha'." He says with a gravelly voice.

"I've been thinking about you doing that since the first night you stayed at my house." She tells him bashfully.

"Me too, love. And it was better than I ever expected," He says whole-heartedly, leaning in to press one more quick kiss to her lips again.

"So, does this mean we're gonna hang out when we both go back home? Because I really want to do that again." Her glassy eyes blink at him with hope awaiting his answer.

He smiles and shakes his head, bewildered at how she could ever think that he could just ghost her after that, "I think Phoebe would come back just to slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her best friend and just never saw her again."

She chuckles at his comment, shyly looking down to her hand on his chest when he doesn't say anything else.

"Of course, I want to hang out when we get back. I want to take y'out on a real date, if you'd let me."  He looks at her all starry eyed, squeezing her waist.

"I think Phoebe would come back and slap me upside the head if I ever kissed her cousin and just never saw him again," This time he's the one that laughs.

"I'd love that very much, Harry." She beams up at him.

Going back home couldn't come sooner to the both of them.

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

ahhh i hope y’all liked that, i’d love feedback :) i’m thinking of making a series out of it, but only if that’s something y’all would like! so, pls let me know if you enjoyed it or if i should make a part 2 ?? 

anyways, stay safe and much love <3

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[bubsdolan]

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE I LOVE YOUR WRITING PART THREE WHEN YOU CAN PART THREE 💥💥💥💥💳💥💥💥💥

{part 2}

approximately 2 weeks, 3 days, 17 minutes and 9 seconds had passed since you were first rushed into the emergency room and induced in a coma, taking grayson’s heart with you. not that he was counting, but grayson never thought he would cry for you as much as he did. he needed you back.

as he remained stuck to your bedside, his hand never leaving your cold, pale and lifeless one, he reminisced back to when life was perfect. when it was you and him agasint the world. happy, healthy and blissfully in love.

grayson missed everything about you, he missed the way you would play with his hair mindlessly as he drove, your fingers soothing his scalp and your humming a perfect melody to his ears. he missed the way you would constantly tease him with your playfulness when you wanted to cheer him up after a stressful day, he missed the way your smile lit up the entire room and had his heart beating out of his chest whenever your eyes met his.

he loved being loved by you.

he missed it. he craved your attention again.

grayson missed the way you would always give him the bigger half of montys burger as you knew his own order wouldn’t touch the sides for his large appetite and he missed the way you would sneak sips of his milkshake when you thought he wasn’t looking. he noticed everytime, but found it adorable the way you thought you were slick with it. grayson always ordered the cookie dough milkshake, even when he wanted a strawberry one as he knew you would regret ordering the coffee flavour and steal his.

he knew you like the back of his hand, better than you knew yourself.

“bro you gotta eat,” ethan pleaded with grayson, trying his best to get his brother to even look at him but his eyes never once left your motionless body. grayson hadn't touched a drop of water let alone food. he could bare the thought of leaving your side incase you needed him, incase you were ready to wake up and finally come back to him.  

“eat for her, gray c’mon.”

grayson felt utterly helpless. he was normally always so good at banishing your pain away, whether it be kissing away cuts and scrapes you get from being your clumsy self, to soothing your cramps and period pains, his hands were healing.

dispite all this, grayson had to sit back and watch you in a state he had no control over. he wanted nothing more than to trade places with you, to take away your pain and suffering away and save your life. but as we all know, life wasn’t always kind. he would wish upon a thousand stars if it meant he could stare into your eyes. he wished to fall in love with you one last time. 

“she's gonna be ok man, i promise” ethan didn't believe his own words, remembering back to the moment he had entered the hospital where your doctor had approached him, unable to speak to grayson due to his emotional state, and confined in ethan that there was a high possibility you wouldn’t wake up. you weren’t showing any signs of improvement yet ethan knew his brother needed to hear those reassuring words no matter the consequences they held further done the line.

grayson stayed slient, a few tears rolling down his face as the one hand that wasn’t resting in yours, toyed with the velvet box in the pocket of his sweatpants- it never left his side since you got admitted.

“it’s our anniversary tomorrow.” this was the first time in 2 weeks grayson had spoken to anyone besides you. although he waasn’t looking in ethan’s direction, his word were meant for him.

“gray-“

“i let her down bro. the one promise i made to her, to myself, to dad, and i broke it. she’s here because of me and there’s absolutely nothing i can do to save her.” growing frustrated with himself, his words stung yet it was less pain than what you were currently being put through. grayson felt selfish to think of anything else than you.

“i pushed her away, if it wasn’t for me she wouldn’t be here right now! if i hadn’t had lost my temper, called her those horrible names- i- she..no.”

“no fuck this. it’s now or never.”

ethan watched with wary unsettled eyes as grayson rose from his seat, pushing it agasint the wall and dropping to one knee. he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed every knuckle with such gentle pressure. sighing and preparing himself for what was about to come.

ethan got his camera ready, knowing his brothers intentions and although he believed you could hear every word, when you woke up it would be a make the troubling experience that little bit lighter once you saw the memorabilia.

“y/n, baby i know you can hear me right now so let me say this- i love you, more than i have ever or could ever love something in my life. you’re my purpose, your the reason ive been put on this earth. my job is to love you and i want to spend the rest of my life doing so.”

wiping his tears to clear his blurry vision, he takes a deep inhale and continues. you hear every word, your body fighting with itself to open your eyes and jump into the arms of your destiny.

“the story of our love is only beginning. let's write our own happy ending. marry me baby. come back to me and be my wife yeah?” 

after his speech, one he had gone over thousands of times in his head, yet when he came down to the very moment he just spoke from the heart, grayson delicately slide the custom made ring onto your finger. smiling for the first time in weeks as it was everything he had ever imagined, it was more beautiful than he had remembered and the fact it was you adoring it, made his heart swore with happiness. 

“congratulations man,” ethan pulls grayson in for a brotherly hug, wholeheartedly believing if you were awake right now, you'd jump into graysons arms screaming yes and declaring your love for him. a moment to treasure forever but the circumstances were cruel.

“thanks bro, i need to do that for me. for our future and hope that she makes it. she can’t leave me e.. sh-she can’t.”

“wake up for me pretty girl.” grayson resumes his place by your bedside, his hand clutching yours again as he prepares himself for another painful night without hearing your voice. “p…please.”

a while passes, it’s bearing on midnight with ethan passed out in the corner of the room wrapped in a a blanket he brought from home. grayson is resting his head on your hand and praying like he did every night, unable to allow himself to sleep when sudden he feels a sudden movement beneath him. 

you twitch. your fingers brushing agasint grayson as your body struggles to bring itself round.

“e-E! she moved- she moved!” grayson is frantic, startling ethan awake as he desperately tries to call out for you. his heart beat picking up, breathing erratic he would for sure need his inhaler any moment.

he caressed your cheek, hoping his soft touch would be enough to tell you he was there, you were safe and he was waiting for you.

“NURSE!” ethan yells, hitting the emergency button he was warned may times to hit in a case like this. he flung the door open and in stormed a whole crew of night staff. “she moved!”

“sir im going to have to ask you to stand back,” one nurse calmly addressed grayson, trying to respectfully break the contact he had with your hand to allow a thorough inspection to take place.

“baby, no.. no no what's happening- is she ok? im not leaving!” grayson cried, clutching desperately onto your hand in fear you would slip away from him. you loved right? that’s a good sign right? so why was your body swarmed with doctors and nurses screaming codes at each, surrounded by machinery grayson didn’t like the look off.

“don’t take me away from her!”

“sir. i won’t ask again, please stand back.”

“NO BABY, DONT DO THIS Y/N. you gotta come back to me, you hear me… you- you can’t leave me!”

“gray, c’mon man.”

ethan had to physically hold grayson back, forcefully dragging him outside the room to allow the professionals to do what they needed to do. an emotional tearful grayson was only going to complicate the matter and ethan was sure you wouldn’t want grayson to see you this way.

grayson cried, screamed and reached out for you. so distressed and weak as ethan cradled him in his arms and held him. no words of reassurance or confidence as the truth of your fate had finally started to sink in. he had to listen to his twin cry and there was absolutely nothing he could do as an older brother.

ethan cried for you. he cried for grayson. he cried for the love his brother just hated his whole life for and lost in a matter of seconds.

you flatlined, your heart monitor sounding one continues bleep that grayson only ever heard in movies. you stopped breathing, your body stopped beating for him.

12:00pm.

“happy anniversary baby,” grayson whispered. his voice breaking and his body trembling with tears as he broke down in his brothers arm. falling to his knees as the warmth of life had been stolen by the cold embrace of death. grayson was pleading, screamed, fighting with you to wake up but his prayers seemed to go unanswered.

he had to watch the love of his life, his new fiancé, his soulmate flatline in front of his very eyes on your anniversary. grayson felt his entire world come crashing down around him.

#don’t hate me #i also rushed this so it’s shit bye #bubbablurb #grayson dolan #bubsdolan #grayson #grayson dolan angst #grayson angst #grayson dolan imagine #grayson imagine #grayson dolan blurb #grayson blurb #grayson dolan concept #grayson concept #grayson dolan fluff #grayson fluff #grayson dolan x reader #grayson x reader #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins concept #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins x reader #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins smut #dolan twins angst #dolan twins fluff #grayson fic

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 2)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 4.8k in this part. (Part 1, Part 3, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex (pulling out), facesitting.

Other than Ateez, all other names are fictional.

You woke up in a room that was similar to the one you were in at the human auction. You shivered in fear. Was your cousin really going to sell you now?

You broke down in tears. You didn't expect things to turn out this way at all. You wished you knew where your father was so that you could report your uncle and his son easily.

The door of the room you were in opened and a man walked in. "Ah! You're awake!"

"Where am I?" you asked Bojoon, glaring at him with disgust.

"At an auction, sweetheart." Your heart dropped. "Let's hope someone buys you for a very high price." You felt your stomach churn with anxiety. Who was going to help you now? You wished you hadn’t gone to the club.

"But before that..." he stepped forward to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm going to make you scream."

He moved his hand slowly from your cheek, down to your chest. "Stop," you whispered, earning a hard slap from him. He pushed you against the wall, forcing his knee in between your legs. Your cheek stung badly and you were sure his hand would’ve left a mark.

He snarled, harshly pulling on your hair. "Don't you dare open your mouth, you fucking bitch!"

He ripped the top part of your dress in half, exposing your upper body that was now only covered by your bra. You brought your hands up to cover yourself, but he pushed them away. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pocket knife, making a large cut on your arm. You whimpered in pain, eyes filling with tears. He smirked at the cut that had began to bleed.

"Blood, my favorite! Ah, this makes it more exciting, doesn't it?" you didn’t reply, trying to control the urge to break down.

He moved his hands to your thighs. "Let's have some fun now, shall we?"

Bojoon was just about to touch your core, but someone snuck up behind him, piercing his neck with a syringe.

You slid down the wall, eyes scrunched closed and ears covered while Bojoon screamed in pain. In a few seconds, the screaming stopped and you heard him fall to the floor with a thud. You slowly peaked, finding Bojoon unconscious on the floor. Was he dead?

You glanced up at the two figures who were present in the room, both dressed in all black; one of them was smaller than the other. Both of them were wearing a black mask and hat. The bigger one approached you, kneeling down. He took his leather jacket off, wrapping it around your body.

"Wear it. It's cold," he said softly, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves. He zipped the jacket up to the top before helping you stand up. The jacket came right below your knee.

"Let's get out of here fast, Yunho," the smaller one said and you recognized him. You were surprised you couldn’t recognize Yunho by his voice.

"San…?"

"Yes, it's me, Kiah," San replied and you sighed in relief before breaking down in tears again.

San approached you and slowly pulled you into his arms. "Shh, you're safe now. We won't let anyone hurt you, alright?" You didn’t say anything while you cried onto his chest, tears soaking his shirt.

"Kiah, we have to get out of here before his men come here," Yunho remarked. "Can I carry you?" You nodded and Yunho took you from San's arms, lifting you bridal-style.

"Yeosang, is the area clear?" San questioned through his earpiece.

"Yes, but there's someone at the exit," Yeosang informed.

"Got it," San said before turning to Yunho. "Alright, let's go. Kiah, just close your eyes, okay?" You nodded, obeying him.

You could feel Yunho running fast with you in his arms. You heard a gunshot, making you let out a scream, scrunching your eyes tightly.

"Don't worry. I’ve got you," Yunho whispered to you.

After a few more seconds, you felt Yunho place you on a car seat. You opened your eyes, watching Yunho close the car door and run to the driver's seat. San quickly slides into shotgun before shooting someone who came out of the building.

Yunho immediately started to drive and San shifted to the backseat, sitting beside you. He took off his mask and hat, ruffling his hair with his hand.

"Are you okay?" San asked worriedly.

"Y-Yeah," your voice broke and you began to cry. San pulled you into his arms, letting you cry on him again. There was a lot of blood dripping down your arm from the cut Bojoon gave you.

"Yunho, how far are we from home?" San questioned. "Kiah's bleeding and we don't have a first aid kit in this car."

"We're about two kilometers away," Yunho answered, speeding up.

In about three minutes, you reached Ateez's mansion. This time, San carried you inside, walking at a fast pace.

"Yeosang! Seonghwa!" he yelled before setting you down on the couch in a room that looked like a medical laboratory. There was another room attached to it and you could obviously tell that it was an operating room. You weren’t surprised as you knew Ateez had enough money to have their own mini hospital at home.

The two men cautiously approached you, not wanting to accidentally trigger you in any way after they were filled in about what happened.

"I'm fine," you told them.

Seonghwa sat beside you, slowly touching your arm. "Can I?" he asked and you nodded. He pushed the sleeve of Yunho's black leather jacket up, revealing the bleeding cut. “Could you take the jacket off so that I can treat you?” you did as he said.

He cleaned the cut with cotton dipped in lukewarm water and you flinched at the sting. Looking down at the cut, you noticed how it was wider on one side.

"You will need stitches," Seonghwa stated. You glanced at the cut; he was right, of course.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Yeosang asked.

You shook your head. "No... Only my head hurts." Seonghwa started to gather whatever he needed to stitch up your wound.

Yeosang nodded. "I'll give you a painkiller for your head." He said, moving to the cabinet.

"Okay," you replied before turning to look at San and Yunho. “Thank you…”

"You don't have to thank us, Kiah," Yunho said with a smile. "We're just glad you're safe."

After Seonghwa stitched and bandaged your wound, he asked you a few questions about how you were feeling while Yeosang made you take a painkiller.

A loud bang was heard and Hongjoong stormed into the room.

"Do you even realize what you've fucking done?!" Hongjoong yelled at you in a stern tone. He looked extremely angry; it actually really scared you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, lowering your head in shame.

He scoffed. "You should be fucking sorry! And you two," he turned to face San and Yunho who looked just as scared as you. "How dare you both start your own little mission without asking me, hmm?! We made a deal with Moon Younghyun long ago that we will not interfere in their personal matters and they won't interfere in ours! Do you even realize who you killed?! You killed his fucking son!" You flinched at the way he was yelling. "You've put yourselves and our entire gang in unnecessary danger!"

"We didn't kill him," San mumbled, not making eye contact with Hongjoong. "We only made him unconscious."

"And you went through all that fucking bullshit for what?" Hongjoong pointed a finger at you. "To get this damn chick out?! She doesn't even want to be here!" You felt really bad that the boys were getting scolded because of you.

"She was going to get sold again, hyung," Yunho mumbled while looking at the floor.

Hongjoong chuckled bitterly. "So what? Like I said before, she doesn't want to be here. She escaped from us, right? Why the fuck are you so bothered about her?! Whether she gets sold or not, it's not our fucking problem!" Your eyes teared up; you felt so guilty for escaping.

"That's enough, Hongjoong," Seonghwa stated sternly.

"Don't take their side when you know that they're wrong, Seonghwa," Hongjoong retorted.

"Do you even know what Moon Younghyun's son was going to do to Kiah?"

"No, and I seriously don't care about what he was going—"

"He was going to rape her, Hongjoong. He already assaulted her," Seonghwa explained, cutting Hongjoong off. "Fortunately, San and Yunho got there in time."

There was pin-drop silence in the room.

Hongjoong opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, but nothing came out. He looked like he was in deep thought.

"I… I'm sorry," he whispered, not looking at you, before leaving the room. You wondered what suddenly came over him.

"Is he okay?" you questioned.

"Don't worry about it," Seonghwa said with a small smile. He exchanged a glance with Yeosang who nods and leaves the room as well. You were pretty confused by their glance-communication, but you didn't say anything.

"I'm really sorry,” you apologized to San and Yunho. "You both got scolded because of me."

San frowned. "Don't apologize, Kiah. We've been scolded many times before."

"Yeah," Yunho agreed with San. "Hyung is just angry because we didn't tell him about it and he’s scared to lose us. If we had informed him, he would be the first person to rescue you."

You only nod, accepting whatever they said. "By the way… how did you both find me?" You couldn’t help but ask.

"Well, Yunho and I were searching for you everywhere after you left," San explained. "We figured you'd go to a club or some bar, so we checked everywhere. Yunho saw you passing out and by the time he ran to our own car to go after you, your cousin's car was no where in sight. Yeosang had to hack into a lot of cameras in close-by areas to find out where exactly you were taken to." You nodded, listening to whatever he was saying.

"Kiah?" Yunho started in a hesitant tone. "Do you… really not want to live with us?"

You let out a sigh as you pondered about what he said. "I don't want to, honestly. There's nothing wrong with you guys, but the whole mafia lifestyle… I just didn't expect that. I really just want to become a nurse and live a normal life."

"Kiah, I'd like to mention something," Seonghwa said in a soft tone. "Your uncle has been in the mafia business since before you were even born." Your eyes widened at his words as you didn't know that; you thought your uncle was just a corrupted politician. "You were basically born into that life even if your parents aren't into it. And since you lived under his roof, you were actually constantly at risk." You only keep quiet, letting his words sink in.

"Stay with us for a week," San suggested. "If you still want to leave after that… we'll let you go."

~

The next morning, Yunho and Mingi gave you a tour around the mansion while they told you random stories of the missions they've gone on. You found yourself enjoying their company. You were quite surprised at the amount of money mafias make; you were so sure that Ateez were billionaires.

The three of you sat on the benches at the mansion's garden, getting a little sun.

"When did you both join the mafia?" you curiously asked the two giants who were literally a foot taller than you. They had such bright and bubbly personalities that you couldn't even believe they were in a mafia gang, let alone one of the most powerful gangs out there. 

"Yunho and I have been close friends ever since we were thirteen, and we joined Ateez together," Mingi said. "After my parents were murdered when I was seventeen, Yunho's parents took me in. But since I witnessed my parents' murder and saw the murderers' faces, they came after Yunho's family and killed his parents while searching for me because I had escaped before they could kill me as well."

"But we got our sweet revenge after we joined Ateez," Yunho added with a smirk. "Hongjoong came up to us during my parents' funeral and promised to kill the murderers if we joined his gang. He kept his word and the murderers were, in fact, another mafia gang."

"Do you ever regret joining the gang?" you questioned, curious because they joined only to take revenge.

"Nope."

"Never."

"Ateez is our family now," Yunho stated with a smile. "Hongjoong created this family and we're all genuinely happy even if this isn't a normal lifestyle. We're almost always at some risk, but we got each other's backs." Mingi nodded his head in agreement.

"Wow," was all you could say. The boys only laughed at that.

"It's a little overwhelming, I know," Mingi chuckled.

"Let's go back inside," Yunho suggested.  "It's cold out here, you know?" You and Mingi nodded before making your way inside the mansion.

As soon as you entered the mansion, you were hit with the scent of something absolutely amazing. Mingi inhaled deeply, a wide smile immediately appearing on his face.

"Wooyoung is cooking!" Mingi squealed before running to sit on the couch in the living room. You sat beside him, and Yunho sat on the opposite couch.

"He always does, dumbass," Yeosang muttered from the kitchen while helping Wooyoung. Even Jongho was there, cutting some vegetables.

Mingi pouted a little. "Seonghwa hyung cooks sometimes too, okay! Besides, I'm really hungry."

"Food will be ready in another hour," Wooyoung informed while stirring some stew. "Why don't you eat an apple for now, Mingi?"

"Jongho," Mingi called out.

You watched Jongho wash two apples before he made his way to the living room where you, Mingi, and Yunho were seated. He stood in front of Yunho and effortlessly split one of the apples in half, handing one half of it to Yunho and putting the other half in between his teeth, leaving you dumbfounded. He split the other apple and handed one half to you and the other half to Mingi.

You glanced at Mingi and Yunho who didn't even seem fazed by Jongho's actions.

"Did I just witness the baby of the family break two apples in halves with his bare hands?" Jongho smiles brightly at your words.

"He may be the baby, but he's scary as fuck," Mingi mumbled from beside you, making you raise an eyebrow while you ate your piece of apple; you found Jongho absolutely adorable. You were about to say something, but Hongjoong came into the living room, his eyes on you.

"Can we talk?" he asked, making eye contact for barely three seconds before he turned around and walked away. You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what to do after the way he lashed out on you last night.

"Go on," Jongho said. "He won't yell at you or anything, I'm sure of it." You only nod before getting up and following Hongjoong.

You followed Hongjoong to the large library of the mansion. You didn't get to see the inside of the library when Mingi and Yunho showed you around. They said you would spend a lot of time in there anyway.

When you entered the library, your jaw dropped. The large bookshelves were floor to ceiling, and only one of the walls had a window that was floor to ceiling as well. You loved reading, so you were quite astonished at the amount of books they had in here. You could see big, thick books on one of the shelves and you just knew that they were definitely medical books. There were also large couches to lounge on while you read. It even had a fridge and a coffee maker.

Hongjoong sat down on one of the couches placed at the end. You stood there awkwardly, not uttering a word. He patted the free space beside him, signaling you to sit down.

You hesitantly move to sit down beside him, looking down at your hands and fiddling with your fingers while you waited for him to talk about whatever he wanted to talk about. Somehow, you felt quite nervous. Was he going to yell at you for causing a huge problem for his gang? Or was he going to kill you for that? If any of the two are going to happen, you were hoping for the former; you really did not want to die in a mafia's mansion… although, it wasn't that bad of a place to die in.

You heard him inhale and exhale deeply. "I'm sorry, Kiah."

You stopped playing with your fingers and looked up at him, wondering if you heard him clearly. "What…?"

"I’m sorry," he repeated, running a hand through his hair. "For lashing out on you like that without knowing what exactly happened." You were not expecting that at all, considering Hongjoong had quite the temper.  

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion. "Shouldn't you apologize to San and Yunho instead?"

"I already apologized to them," he remarked. "I shouldn't have yelled at you when you were in such a state."

"No, it’s okay, I understand why you did that," you mumbled, looking away. It was true, you really did understand. "I put your gang at risk."

He nodded. "Yes, you did. But I'm glad San and Yunho saved you before…" he gulped, “before anything worse could happen."

"Why?" you murmured. You really thought that he hated you after whatever happened.

Hongjoong leaned back against the couch, head titled back, staring at the ceiling.  "Because I had to witness someone I loved and cherished get raped in front of my eyes,” he said in a soft voice. "She was my sister… she didn't survive. They raped and then killed her right in front of my eyes… four months ago."  A soft gasp escaped from you; your heart felt like it just got shattered. Tears spilled from your eyes as you choked back a sob.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered to him, pulling him into a comforting hug that he immediately melted into. "I'm really sorry."

Hongjoong couldn't control his own tears. He broke down as soon as he saw your tears, unable to control himself any longer. As the leader of a powerful mafia gang, he always tried to stay strong in front of his gang members, never showing how broken he felt at times even though he knew that they knew how he felt. He just didn't want to show any signs of weakness when he has people to lead.

But right now, Hongjoong needed this. He really just wanted and needed someone to hold him while he cried his heart out.

He sniffled. "I know you hate this life, but I want you to stay with us… with me," he whispered the last part but you heard him.

"Please, let me protect you," he continued. "I will never forgive myself if anything happens to you. Please, stay here."

His words caused your heartbeat to speed up, butterflies fluttering about in your stomach. You pulled away from the embrace, reaching out to wipe his tears. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

He smiled a little, lightly placing his lips onto your head, making your heart go crazy. "Thank you, Kiah."

~

The next day during breakfast, you found two unfamiliar faces seated at the dining table with the rest of the boys and Jiwoo.

"Good morning," you greeted before you took the free seat beside Hongjoong. He gave you a smile that you couldn't help but return.

"Good morning!" A few of them said while the others just smiled at you. The dining table was filled with waffles, bacon, and cut fruits.

"Ah, so she's the little trouble!" one of the two girls with short hair said.

You chuckled. "The one and only," you replied, making her laugh.

"I like her already," she remarked with a smirk. "I believe we're the last of the members who you haven't met. I'm Aeji and she's Yeoreum." So these were Seonghwa's and Mingi's girls respectively.

"Sorry to interrupt your introduction session, ladies," Wooyoung said. "But could you please pass the chocolate syrup? My waffles are getting cold, you know?" 

Aeji snorted before passing the bottle of chocolate syrup to Wooyoung whose face lit up immediately at the sight of it.

Hongjoong put two chocolate chip waffles on your plate. "Eat well, hmm?" he said and you nodded before talking a bite of the waffle.

Your eyes widened at the taste; these were definitely the best waffles you have ever eaten in your twenty two years (and counting) of existence.

"She loves them," Aeji said to Seonghwa who gave you a happy smile while you ate.

"I'm glad," Seonghwa stated. He always felt good whenever someone enjoyed his food 

"Everyone loves whatever you make anyway," Mingi mumbled while stuffing his face. 

"So true," Yunho agreed. "If we didn't have Wooyoung and Seonghwa hyung, we would've pretty much survived on take out."

You couldn't even believe how these people were in the mafia. They just seemed so normal. At least in this very moment, they did.

All eleven of them made you feel so welcomed. Even Hongjoong was being so nice to you. When you told them that you decided on staying with them, everyone was ecstatic. You were quite surprised that they trusted you so easily; you had seen a couple of mafia movies before, and usually, the hostage isn't trusted at all. People in the mafia are portrayed as cold-hearted monsters, but these people in front of you seemed far from it.

After breakfast, you headed to the library of the mansion to check out which books they had. You were surprised to find so many fictions and comics. You pulled a book off of one of the shelves, reading the blurb on the cover at the back.

"Found something interesting?" you heard Hongjoong say from behind you, scaring you. You took a step back as reflex, your back pressed against the bookshelf. You had no idea when he entered the library.

"Fuck, you scared me!"

Hongjoong chuckled before his eyes fell to the book you were holding. "Mastering her senses," he read the title of the novel aloud . The way he said those three words made you suck in a breath; it sounded so hot. His eyes stared into yours while a smirk formed on his handsome face.

You involuntarily bit your lip and it didn't go unnoticed by him. "Have you read this book?" you questioned, looking up at him with innocent eyes despite holding a book that was erotic. 

Hongjoong took a small step towards your body that was still pressed against the bookshelf. "Mhmm, I have read it," he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his plump lips. "I like erotic romance novels," he remarked, his gaze falling to your lips for a second. His phone started ringing and he takes it out from his pocket. "You should read it," he said before walking away to answer the call.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before shakily exhaling. "Fuck," you whined, exasperated due to the dull ache you felt down there. Kim Hongjoong really just made you get aroused. You wondered if he did it on purpose or if you were just feeling that way because it has been pretty long since you got some action. You were guessing it was both.

~

Sometime before twilight, you decided to take a walk around the mansion, exploring the area more. There was a small building at the back that wasn't attached to the mansion; it was just a plain white block with a door and no windows. Mingi and Yunho didn't tell you what the building was used for when they gave you a tour around the mansion. You were quite curious to know about it now as you stared at the large steel doors that required a passcode to open.

The door of the building suddenly opened, revealing Wooyoung and Hongjoong who were having a conversation. They stopped talking when they noticed you standing a few feet away from the entrance.

"Oh? Kiah? What are you doing here?" Wooyoung asked, a little surprised to see you here of all places.

"I was taking a walk," you answered. "What is this building? Mingi and Yunho didn't tell me anything about it."

"Ah, they probably didn't want to scare you off," Hongjoong replied.

"Oh…” you murmured, obviously understanding that it had some mafia-related stuff inside.

"By the way," Wooyoung starts, making you look at him. "Uh, I don't know how else to put this, but you really need to learn how to use a gun, Kiah."

Your eyes widened. "A gun? Why?"

"To protect yourself, just in case," he answered. "Everyone saw your face at the auction and they all will assume that you're a sex slave now. If any of them find you roaming around freely, even if you're with any of us, they might abduct you." Wooyoung's words made a chill run down your spine, but you acted like as if you were fine. Honestly, you were terrified, and they both could see that.

"Okay," you agreed without a second thought.

"I'll teach her," Hongjoong said, earning a nod from Wooyoung. He looked at you, giving you a small smile. "Do you want to start now?"

"Sure," you answered and he took your hand in his, pulling you inside the white building. You were surprised to find that there was absolutely nothing inside except a few bicycles. Hongjoong pauses at another set of doors before entering the passcode, revealing a set of stairs. He pulled you along with him, walking past a couple of doors, and you felt like this place was familiar.

"Haven't I been here?" you questioned, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion as you tried to recall when you’ve been here.

"Yes, the interrogation room is here," Hongjoong explained, "This entire area is connected to the mansion."

"What do you use this area for?" you blurted out.

"Various things," he simply answered before stopping in front of a door and entering a passcode again; they had a lot of security here. Once you entered the room, you realized that it was a large shooting range. Your eyes widened at the sight of various guns adorning one of the walls. You couldn’t even imagine how much money was spent on it.

Hongjoong took a pair of headphones and yellow tinted glasses before making you wear them. He handed you a small, thin silver gun after loading it with a few bullets. "Safety's off, be careful," he warned and you nodded, holding the gun like as if it was very delicate.

"Well, using a gun is very simple," Hongjoong starts, "It's exactly how they show it in movies, aim and pull the trigger. Your aim will always be the most important thing when it comes to shooting, and it's best to shoot the heart.”

Hongjoong demonstrates how to shoot, and the bullet perfectly hit the dummy target’s heart. “See? It’s that simple. You can try it now.”

You put both your hands on the grip of the gun, tilting your head slightly to check if your aim was at the dummy target's heart. You were shaking a little, but you tried your best to ignore it.

"Pull the trigger when you’re ready."

And so you did.

However, the gun recoiled, making you shriek as you fell backwards… right into Hongjoong’s arms.

"Oops, I forgot to mention about the knockback," he chuckled against your head before helping you stand up straight. He looked at the dummy target that you shot. "Mhmm, not bad for a beginner. You shot him in the liver, princess." Your heart raced at the name he called you.

Hongjoong put an arm around your waist, pulling your body against his while he raised your arm a little, focusing on the target. "Shoot," he whispered, and you pulled the trigger again. "See? Bullet to the heart. We're going to practice everyday, yeah? That’s how you’ll become better at it.”

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong imagine #ateez x oc #ateez mafia au #mafia ateez #Hongjoong imagines #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #san #seonghwa #yeosang #choi san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #yunho #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #ateez scenarios #ateez mafia imagines #ateez mafia reactions #ateez san #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez hyung line

[imthatchishiyasimp]

I fucked my way into this mess, and I’ll fuck my way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh shit” was all I could say, looking at the now crimson red-hoodie.

“You better fix that”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi!!! Had this idea and couldn't resist writing about it, also the title helped to develop it hahahaha.

it's not NSFW, but it hints a bit about it at the end, so be careful. Also, TW: death and blood are both mentioned and described.

The previous game night I got my sweatshirt broken, and since then I had been borrowing people’s clothes. I wasn’t able to search for a new decent one and I was planning on scabaging a few stores on my way back to the Beach after this game.

I had managed to steal a few clothes from Kunai and some other people, and they didn’t mind. No one minded but Chishiya, that bastard. His hoodies were so clean and soft, wonders where he took them. So, given that he didn’t want to lend them over, I broke into his room and stole the best one. It was pure white, big and comfy with a front pocket and a hood.

He wasn’t supposed to go out and play tonight, so it would have been fine. He wasn’t even in the car when I got there. But, out of nowhere, he was at the lobby of the game arena I was supposed to clear.

I mean, the mad look he gave me? Dude, I was scared.

We were playing a spades game, an easy one. In total there were eight participants, two of them were new to the games and scared to the bone.

“REGISTRATION HAS CLOSED. THERE ARE A TOTAL OF 8 PARTICIPANTS. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.”

I looked around and saw a path going up the stairs and into a wide corridor. Two small tables were placed at the bottom of them, one holding the phones left after we all took our own, and the other one with several collars. I had heard of them in other games, but I didn’t have the pleasure of trying them on.

While the phones were informing us of the difficulty of the game, I got closer to Chishiya, step by step, judging if he was mad enough to give me the silent treatment. Apparently not, because he didn’t push me away nor did he go to the other corner of the mini crowd we formed. I tucked my hand into the pocket and balanced on my toes, listening to the rules of the game.

“GAME: TARGET SHOOTING.”

“PLEASE, PUT ON THE COLLARS PLACED ON THE TABLE”.

Reluctantly, we all clasped the collar around our necks. It felt wrong and cold, like the hand of a murderer patiently waiting to squeeze harder and harder until you died. I swallowed hard, rolling my head and trying to get used to the feeling. My eyes drifted to Chishiya’s form and I wasn’t surprised to find him unaltered. His hands were hidden in his pockets, his face covered by the hood, but I caught a glimpse of his eyes.

He looked at me, from head to toes. Would he forgive me because I looked good in his clothes? Probably not, but I could wish.

“RULE: MANAGE TO SHOOT ACCURATELY TO THE TARGET WITH THE CROSSBOWS LEFT IN EACH ROOM”.

“CLEAR CONDITION: PASS THE 10 ROOMS WITH PERFECT AIM. IF YOU FAIL, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED. IF YOU MAKE ANOTHER PLAYER SHOOT IN YOUR TURN, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED”.

“TIME LIMIT: 30 MINUTES, EACH ROOM HAS A MAXIMUM OF 3 MINUTES. IF YOU DON’T CLEAR THE ROOM IN THAT TIME, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED”.

“THE GAME WILL START ONCE YOU OPEN THE DOORS”.

Without a word, we all took the stairs up to the first mark pointing to door number 1. Some guy opened it and we walked inside. It was almost empty, leaving one table with a crossbow and a handful of arrows. At the end of the room there was a kind of dart-board, but the red center was way bigger than usual. Just a few steps from the door there was a mark with two feet, signaling the shooting position.

Our phones chimed with the time starting the countdown. Below the time apparead the face of one of the players, giving him the first turn. A black haired boy took the crossbow with confidence, getting the arrow ready and shooting with efficiency.

“Are you mad at me?” I whispered to Chishiya.

He gave me the eye and grunted. “I clearly remember telling you not to steal my clothes. Are you going deaf?”

I giggled and hid my nose in the hoodie. It smelled like him, one of the very first reasons why I stole it. I love the way he smells of new things, undiscovered fragrances and fresh days. It brought me peace and calm; I felt safe.

“I was cold and couldn’t find anything else. You weren’t supposed to see, I thought you weren’t due yet”.

The first three participants did well, the last one getting too close to the limit but managing anyway. I was next.

Taking an arrow and getting ready for the shooting, I placed myself on the mark and breathed deeply. I didn’t like guns, but I had a good aim when needed. With a clear shot, I gave the crossbow to the next player.

We all passed the room within the time limit and left for the next one. Given the easiness of the first room, a bust of confidence started to grow in each player, so when the target became a pain to shoot, panic bursted in the room.

It was room 4 where the first player died. An old woman that was trembling with fear and exhaustion missed the red circle. She dropped the crossbow and looked at us in fear, grabbing the collar and pulling with force. I walked backwards until I met the opposite wall. Chishiya was next to me, with his eyes locked in the body of the lady going down after the bomb exploded. I couldn’t look at it.

The next player had to move her body to be able to step on the mark, and that was when all of us were aware of the situation. While I knew what the collar meant, some of the participants didn’t.

“I will return it after the game, I promise. Just wait until we finish and I’m able to take something from some mall” I told him walking towards room number 6. No one was talking, so my voice was easy to pick up above the steps of the players. They looked at me from the corner of their eyes, wondering how I was so calm, how I was able to think of something else apart from the game.

Chishiya brought my hood up and placed it on my head, covering my hair with it. “If you don’t bring it back, you will face consequences” And then he walked faster to the next room. I gulped, not wanting to know what would await me if I didn’t. The feeling of his fingers through the strands of my hair still alive on my mind.

Room 8 only held four players. Chishiya and I were with the boy with shooting experience and a girl with short hair. Both of them were young and composed, getting through the game without a word from their lips.

It was getting noticeably difficult. The target was in higher places and getting smaller by the point. A headache was starting to grow and it made me clench my fingers more often, almost making me shoot a moment before I was ready. The pressure of the time was smaller since we were less people, but it meant we took more time to get ready and I was getting nervous.

The four of us made it to room 10. It looked like the last one, extremely difficult with a very small target and too high to comfortably shoot. The boy was called first and he got ready to shoot. His confidence had wavered in the last rooms, same as the rest, but he still made an effort on showing a calm facade.

I was sure he was gonna clear the game. I think all of the players in the room thought so. And I was behind him, waiting for my turn, looking anxiously at the time getting close to the end. But also, we all thought there wasn’t going to happen anything else. No one saw the vents opening and giving a rush of air, making the arrow go a bit to the left and missing the target. It was a soft breeze, but enough to change the course of the arrow.

“No. No, no, no. No! This wasn’t supposed to happen! They didn’t tell! It’s not fair! I was the first one to shoot!” He shouted. He started screaming at us because now we knew about it. He died in the middle of a cry, shaking me from the shoulders. And I just stood there, listening to his cries and too shocked to fight him.

I got all his blood spattered on myself, his dead eyes printed on my mind.

I don’t recall what happened after. I just remember throwing the body of the dead player to one side, taking the crossbow and shooting to the target. I almost missed, having miscalculated the force of the air released by the vents. I think the girl went after me and cleared the game too. We waited until Chishiya shot and stood there, listening to the beeping sound of the phones.

“GAME CLEAR”.

“CONGRATULATIONS”.

Leaving the hotel next to Chishiya was a bit awkward. He was playing with the card in his hands, looking at it with an interesting face. And he wasn’t talking, not even humming. He liked to point out things about the game after he cleared them, about the rules, the players or the place we played in. But he didn’t. We arrived at the nearest car that was going to the Beach and I made a move to get in. I wasn’t in the mood of walking all the way back, but Chishiya stopped me before I could open the door.

“Nope, you are not coming” He told me, pushing me away from the car.

“What? Why?” I asked, frowning my eyebrows. He pointed to my chest and I looked down. “Oh shit” It was so far gone. There was not a single white spot in the hoodie. It was absolutely red. “Oh fuck, oh no, I’m so sorry”. I looked at him, my face showing full remorse, big eyes asking for forgiveness. I tried to reach him, failing when he moved out of my reach.

He just smirked and shook his head. “I will wait until tomorrow night. You better fix that before then”. And he got in the car, leaving me alone in the street, hands still in the air.

“Chishiya you bastard! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

So there I was, going into every shop I could find, searching for an identical hoodie and taking advantage of the trip to pick a few things for myself. It wasn’t a special hoodie or something, but most of them were either the wrong size or too dirty. I took my precious time looking for a perfect one, also taking some more to give as an apology and for me to match. We would see who would try to steal then.

I had miscalculated the time it would take me to walk back to the Beach. The ride to the game arena was a bit longer than usual, but I didn’t think walking would take me that much.

The sun was going down when I reached the Beach. I was famished and thirsty as hell. I was only able to take a fast lunch and I walked a too long distance. I went straight to the kitchens and I gulped down a full bottle of water with some snacks.

After I was satisfied, I stood and took my bags to my room, putting away the clothes I picked and changing into something clean. Taking the ones I chose for Chishiya, I left my room and went to his.

I knocked and waited until I heard footsteps coming to open the door. I fought a smile miting my lip and tried to remain calm. He opened the door just a bit to see who was knocking, opening fully seeing me there.

“Do you like this one?” I said while turning around and opening my arms. “It’s exactly the same one, size and all, and don’t forget the hood and the pocket!” I watched him lean into the door frame and smirk behind his hair. He gave me a look crossing his arms and letting out a breathy laugh.

I remained serious and gave a sorry look. “I mean, if you don’t like it, I have a few more for you to choose. Here, let me try them on so you can see how they look” Taking the sleeves, I pulled my arms out and started to take the hoodie off in the middle of the corridor.

I heard him moving just when I was about to take it off. Suddenly I was being dragged by the arm and thrown into Chishiya’s room.

I laughed out loud, almost tripping because of the strength and the lack of vision due to the hoodie being over my head. His room smelled like he did and I was high on it.

“Do you need to be such a pain for me to do something?” He said with a smug voice, taking the hoodie completely off me. His dark eyes checked me out and I felt so vulnerable under his gaze that I felt chills running through my body.

Could he be any more handsome? The way this eyes held the whole world’s knowledge made me shiver in both fear and awe. The white strands of hair dancing around his face, making him shine even more. His smile, a rare but precious sight.

His touch was warm and delicate. His fingers went through my hair, to my cheekbones and to my neck, going slowly and leaving me breathless.

I took a step forward and grabbed at his clothes, feeling brave for a moment, getting close to his ear to whisper with a soft and heavy voice: “It worked, didn’t it?” Besides, now I know what it takes to bring you down”.

“You’re on”.

#aib #alice in borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #fic #shuntaro chishiya #oneshot

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Hi hello! So pleased to hear your requests are open! Can I please request for a marriage au mafia style where the reader gets hurt or assaulted by the rival gang in front of him and due to being restraint he can't get to her and he cries and begs for her stop. Then thankfully Chan and the others come to the rescue and you want nothing more than to be in chnagbins arms. Maybe a lot of angst and fluff afterwards too. Can't wait to see what you come up with 💕

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Changbin

Warnings: Mention of violence and blood; cursing and language; lots of angst and some fluff at the end; mature content

Genre: Mafia AU; Established Relationship

Where are you?

It feels like a dream. The very strange sensation of that in-between state because you were incapable of distinguishing consciousness from something less than. 

Am I alive?

You must be, aware of the sensation of cold, shivers running down your spine, raising little bumps across your arms...

“Princess!”

What? Did you hear that?

“Y/N!” the voice came again. More urgently this time.

You realized then, with the grounding agency of that sound, that your eyes were closed, but it was a struggle to open them, slowly coming back from whatever had sucked you down, wincing at the dull pain in your head.

“Y/N,” the voice sighed this time. Like it was relieved to see you cognizant. “Tell me you’re okay, love.”

Love?

It hit you at that moment, the sound of the voice. One you could recognize no matter the degree of darkness holding you under, and you managed to open your eyes enough to meet Changbin’s gaze from across the room. 

“Changbin?” you questioned. Or, at least, you thought you said his name. You couldn’t be sure since the sounds around you made it seem like your head was underneath water, distorting everything, and the roof of your mouth was dry and tasteless.

“That’s right, love,” Changbin said, and you struggled to keep him in your line of vision, watching his form swim and dance in strange directions.

“I don’t feel good,” you admitted, hearing what might’ve been a sharp intake of breath.

“Where does it hurt?” Changbin asked, and you frowned at how difficult the question was since you weren’t sure how to answer it.

There was too much numbness, and you were far more concerned with restoring your senses, slowly feeling your ears open back up and the things surrounding you come into focus.

Meanwhile, Changbin was still talking. “I’ll kill them all,” he growled. “This was never supposed to happen.”

Them? you thought to yourself vacantly, gingerly turning around as much as your bindings would allow, realizing only after a brief relapse of confusion that your hands and legs were tied to the metal chair you sat on. 

“Where are we?” you asked, finding your voice amidst everything else.

“I’m not sure,” Changbin whispered, and he suddenly sat upright in his chair, eyes narrowing and features taking on that practiced hardening that you associated with your husband at his most dangerous.

But a Changbin bound and tied by seemingly impossible to escape restraints didn’t exactly scream power to you. In fact, it seemed more like a power imbalance, and you were left reeling for answers when the sound of a distant door opening and then closing filled the space between you both.

“I see you’re awake now,” an unfamiliar figure announced, voice slightly accented. He walked with an arrogant swagger, matching the exaggerated steps he took and the smirk he wore on his grizzled features. “We’ve been waiting.”

“Don’t touch her!” Changbin snapped, jerking against his restraints as the veins in his neck visibly popped in response to his obvious anger and frustration. 

“Who? The girl?” the man asked with a lazy gesturing towards you. “Then you’ll give us answers, no?”

“What do you want?” Changbin asked, and you noted how his fingers were clenched tightly against the arm rests attached to his chair.

“The new shipment of weapons,” the man said. “Your men took them from us the other night. Came in and shot my best sniper.”

Changbin sighed, clearly frustrated. “They were originally assigned to us.”

“But then we made a better deal!” the man growled. “It was my name on that contract, and you had no right to interfere.”

“Says who?” Changbin asked, fishing for more information.

“I can’t tell you that,” the man replied. “I’m only the messenger.”

“You act like it’s more than that.”

“Oh?” the man smirked. “Well, I am a big deal.”

Changbin glowered at the arrogance. “I don’t lead the organization.”

“I know, but you’re an important player,” the man continued. “And your name was everywhere when I started investigating.”

“The weapons were a necessary exchange,” Changbin argued.

“But they were ours!” the man declared passionately, and Changbin knew better than to try to argue with someone so overzealous.

“Fine,” Changbin huffed. “I’ll have my men restore the weapons.”

“Wonderful,” the man sighed, tucking his hands into his pocket. “There is one more thing, though.”

“One more?” Changbin snorted.

“I know of your importance, Mr. Seo,” the man said. “I assume that you’re someone in possession of good information.”

“Like what?”

“Like that little bar you opened downtown,” the man continued, taking another step closer. 

You froze when he pulled a knife from his pocket, studying the way the light reflected off the harsh metal. “What about it?” Changbin grumbled, eyes focused on the obvious danger in the room.

“I’m curious about its sudden success,” he said, and you shivered when he started circling your chair. “Seems like something is missing.”

“Just good business,” Changbin said, but you could tell he was trying to get one step ahead of the guy - discerning the meaning of this unexpected conversation.

“Or, you figured out how to delegitimize the competition,” the man harshly exhaled, and you whimpered when you felt the cold blade of the knife tease the sensitive skin of your neck. 

Changbin sat up just a little higher, biceps flexing against his restraints. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Obviously,” the man hissed, digging the blade just enough to draw a tiny pinprick of blood. “You’ve sent your men undercover to spy on my business! To spread rumors and lies and turn my clientele away!”

Changbin chuckled at the outrageous claim, but it was devoid of any humor. “You probably fucked your business over yourself.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” the man growled, searing metal against flesh. “I know men like you, Mr. Seo, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve played a bigger part than what you’ve let on.”

“I have better things to do than fuck with some second rate booze club,” Changbin growled. “We’ve got clubs all over downtown. They’ve all been successful, and it has nothing to do with sending off the competition.”

Changbin smirked then, something harsh and mocking. “Maybe you’re just a really bad businessman.”

But it was the wrong thing to say, and you withheld a scream of terror when the man suddenly wrapped biting fingers into your hair. “You want to save your cocksleeve?” he growled, gripping even tighter to your aching scalp and wrenching your head back to expose your throat and the small laceration he had left there on the smooth skin. A puddle of red amidst the rest. “Tell me why you did it!”

“I can’t!” Changbin snarled in return. “My guys never stepped foot in your territory.”

“LIES!” the man roared, and you were teetering precariously in your chair, back legs lifted from the safety of the floor.

“If you hurt her,” Changbin said, and his tone was staggered and weak. “I will make sure you suffer a thousand times worse.”

The man laughed, incredulous as he looked around the room. “And what do you plan to do about it?”

Silent tears fell down your glistening cheeks as you felt the man’s warm breath against the side of your face. “Maybe violence isn’t enough for you. Maybe I need to get what I need by other means.”

Your stomach dropped at the guttural tone, trying to meet Changbin’s eyes from across the room. “You’ve been warned,” Changbin said. “The grave you’ve dug for yourself is deep enough.”

“Oh?” the man laughed. “Well, since you think you’re in such control here, let me remind of you of the reality of the situation...”

“Changbin!” you cried when you were abruptly lifted from your chair, knife cutting through the ropes binding you, sending you colliding back against the solid mass of an unfamiliar form, loose hands roaming across your torso. 

“Stop!”

Changbin’s voice was just veering on the edge of desperate, recognizing that you were in no position for him to sound anything less than serious. 

“Stop?” your captor repeated in a mocking tone, and you felt the blade of the knife return to your throat, slicing down harder and finally triggering the hair-raising scream that you had been suppressing. Trying to be brave for Changbin.

“You can’t do this!” Changbin cried, and you were amazed to see the faint rivulet of a tear stain - the mark of weakness that your husband tried so hard to suppress in this violent line of work.

If you thought about it, there were only a handful of times that you had ever seen Changbin cry.

“I’ll do anything,” Changbin whispered. “I’ll even take her place! Just don’t hurt her anymore.”

“Hmmm?” Your captor relinquished his threatening attack, and you could breath a little easier when he turned his attention back to Changbin.“What if I offer you a compromise? Tell me how you’ve managed your business affairs, and I won’t kill your little plaything.”

Changbin inhaled sharply, gaze full of a sinister rage you knew was reserved for his greatest enemies. “You’ll be screaming for a death of your own by the time I’m done with you.”

“You still don’t understand,” the man sighed, and you gasped when chapped lips brushed against your cheek. “Maybe I’ll fuck her first...”

“You won’t have the time.”

“Says who...”

He trailed off then. The last words you ever heard from your captor before an enormous explosion interrupted the tension, walls and floors shaking as dust and debris fell from the ceiling overhead.

You could feel the body behind you trembling as well, but you knew that it wasn’t from the explosion. It was from fear, and in a split second of panic, the man shoved you to the ground, and you yelped when your head collided hard against the concrete. 

You attempted to pull yourself back up, but there was something numbing and weighty keeping you on the floor, darkness swimming threateningly in front of your eyes once again.

There were familiar sounds: the sharp click of a gun, the whizzing of bullets flying overhead, and the cacophony of screams and yells.

The pain was keeping you from focusing, aware of vague figures passing in and out of your periphery, running and moving in all sorts of directions. It was chaos at its finest, and you were incapable of comprehending any of it. Instead, you could only focus on two things: the pounding of your pulse against your eardrums and the intermingled buzzing of familiar tones.

There was a hand on your shoulder, but you were incapable of responding to their call, succumbing to an irrefutable and dreamless sleep.

The first thing you noticed when you were capable of understanding your surroundings, was the silky fabric of the bed sheets.

They were smooth to the touch and you flexed your fingers around them, humming in contentment when you silted open your eyes just enough to confirm that they belonged to you and Changbin. The ones you used on the King-sized bed in your shared room.

But therein lay the problem: you were alone in the bed, and the only voices you could hear certainly didn’t match the same tone of your husband.

You swallowed hard, flinching when the motion brought attention to the thick bandage around your neck, and upon touching the material, you were bombarded with a barrage of images reminding you of everything that had happened the previous night. 

It was enough to leave you shaking, seeking some form of comfort as you roused your body just enough to turn around to the sound of those voices, recognizing Chan, your husband’s boss, and Seungmin, the residential healer.

“Chan?” you groaned, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth.

“Y/N,” he acknowledged you, rushing over to your bedside in an instant. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” you said, watching as he lifted a bottle of water to hand to you.

“Drink this.”

You nodded, taking it from him. “Where’s Changbin?”

The question was met with silence, and you frowned when Chan and Seungmin exchanged quick glances. “Well, if nothing hurts, then I have other appointments,” Seungmin said, hurriedly dismissing himself from the room.

“Coward,” Chan muttered, but he was nothing but smiles for you, coming to sit down at your bedside. “Changbin...he’s busy.”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory, and your heart started beating a little faster. “Where?”

“Downstairs,” he said, and you knew exactly what that meant. 

“He brought him here?” you muttered, hating the idea of having someone like that under the same roof you called home. 

“Changbin insisted,” Chan replied, and you realized that he disapproved as well, but it still didn’t help your tender sensibilities, and you were ready to implode from the inside because you needed Changbin’s comfort.

“I need him,” you said, fixing Chan with a stern look. “Can you ask him to come up here?”

“He won’t be convinced until he’s done,” Chan said, but his gaze was soft as he leaned in closer. “I can help, if you’d like.”

It was a nice gesture, and normally you might take him up on an offer of comfort, but Chan wasn’t going to heal the turmoil bubbling inside of you.

The emotions burst forth, and your eyes had already glossed over from tears shedding themselves like dead leaves falling from a tree in the middle of a windstorm. “I just want Changbin,” you sobbed, and Chan was barely perceivable through the mess of your tears. 

You could tell Chan was upset by your dismissal, even as his fingers tried to brush away the wetness dotting your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, and it spoke to a history between the two of you that often when unsaid.

You had been given to Chan, your organization’s leader, as a peace offering from a rival mafia group. It was a cruel trade, and you resisted as much as you could, especially since, at first, you were meant to be his betrothed.

And you came into the Miroh Group with a determination to resist them to the very end.

Until Changbin stole your heart.

From there, you couldn’t believe that you had gotten so lucky, falling in love whole-heartedly, capable of forgiving Changbin’s worst sins.

Including his more sadistic tendencies.

“You can try to see him,” Chan said, seemingly satisfied after wiping away most of the evidence of your internal breakdown.

You nodded immediately, even though you understood that what you might find downstairs wouldn’t be anything comforting.

You felt a little unsteady on your feet, even with Chan helping you down the concrete steps descending into a place you tended to avoid.

The smell of alcohol and blood were both overwhelming, and you stumbled on the final step, rearing back at the sound of a truly gruesome gurgle that reminded you too much of drowning. 

In the middle of the room you managed to make out Changbin, wearing dark pants and a white t-shirt, allowing you to see all the blood painting the texture in ugly patterns.

But then your attention wandered over to the poor soul strapped to the chair, barely recognizable because of the damage caused by your husband, the one who was gaping at you while holding a knife in one hand and scissors in the other.

"Y/N,” Changbin whispered. “Why aren’t you resting?”

You shook your head, looking past the gruesome, mangled damage to see the pained expression of your former captor. 

Changbin had made good on his threat to tear the asshole apart, and your stomach rolled at the awful display of violence.

Done at the hands of the man who made the sweetest love to you in the dark recesses of your bedroom.

Still, you craved his presence, falling into his open arms as he held you close after tossing aside his tools. “Shhh,” he whispered to calm your tears.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” you sniffled.

“I’m sorry, love,” Changbin said, soothing your cries with soft cooing. 

You savored his closeness, tucking your chin over his shoulder and opening your eyes to look upon the decrepit appearance of your former captor. “What are you doing to him?” you asked, and you felt Changbin sigh as he pulled back from you.

“I know you don’t approve, love,” Changbin said, and he glanced down at his ruined t-shirt and jeans, drenched in blood. 

Under most circumstances, you would agree, but you felt your hand jumping to your throat, wrapping around the bandage covering your wound. 

Changbin frowned at the movement, likely remembering the events that led to your injuries. “Kill him,” you said, and both Changbin and Chan seemed taken aback by your response. It was completely out of character, coming from someone who often disapproved of the murderous part of their work. 

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, and you could see that he wore wariness on top of his horrified expression.

“Come upstairs soon,” you said, squeezing Changbin’s hand with your own. “I need you.”

Your husband nodded, looking at you with something akin to awe as you left the downstairs basement with Chan hot on your heels and torturous screams assaulting your ears. 

Chan only left your bedroom once Changbin arrived, showered and clean, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

“Careful,” Chan whispered to him on the way out, and you shivered.

But there was nothing that could warm you up more than Changbin, and you even managed a smile when he climbed into the bed behind you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist to pull you closer. “Hi, princess,” he whispered, and you felt like bathing in the sensual tone of his voice.

“Changbin,” you sighed in return, turning around so that you could face him.

“It doesn’t hurt too much, does it love?” he asked, reaching out to tenderly stroke his fingers across your bandages. 

“Not anymore,” you said. “Seungmin did a good job.”

“He better,” Changbin rumbled, and you tried not to roll your eyes at your husband. 

“I was really upset earlier,” you said. “When I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s my fault, princess,” Changbin said. “I didn’t know you would wake-up so soon....and there were things I needed to take care of.”

You sighed, closing your eyes hard against a distant image of your mind conjuring the bloodied and ruined form of your captor. “Did you find out who he belonged to?”

“Yeah, a small organization under Park,” Changbin said. “He was more than willing to talk after I took one of his fingers.”

Your heart twisted at his nonchalant tone. “I guess you silenced him.”

Changbin hesitated, pausing to look at you with concern. “Are you mad at me?”

“Just...disappointed,” you said. “I couldn’t hold myself together.”

“It would’ve torn me apart,” Changbin replied. “If I let him go without making him suffer for touching my princess.”

You closed your eyes, feeling Changbin trail his fingers across your arm. “But you’re here now?”

“Of course,” Changbin agreed, leaning in to kiss you gently. “I’m yours, love. For as long as you need me to hold you.”

“Might be all night,” you said, moving up to kiss under his jaw. “I need you in a lot of ways.”

Changbin chuckled at your implications, leaving nothing to be imagined as you grazed one finger over the front of his sweatpants where his cock lay flaccid. He titled your chin at a better angle, a glaze of lust darkening his eyes. “When you feel better,” he purred. “I’ll take care of your little pussy.”

You shook at his seductive promise, curling even closer to him as Changbin’s thudding heart lulled you into a comfortable peace.

#changbin fanfic #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #changbin angst #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #changbin fluff #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mostlycompetent

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone. 

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.” 

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry. 

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too. 

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor. 

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

#GF #gravity falls #gravity falls au #timestuck au #fanfiction #stanford pines #stanley pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #angst #why did i write this? #cuz fuck you that's why #I HAD TO I’M SORRY #pls don't hate me

[qitwrites]

breaking ground

Fandom: boku no hero academia 

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou / Bakugou Katsuki 

(AO3) 

The thing about your best friend/roommate/long-time crush/probably the love of your life being in a coma is that it sucks. Like, a lot.

‘Kats, if you don’t wake up, I will hide a dirty sock somewhere in your room. Somewhere you’ll never find it. And you’ll just have to live with that.’

The machines beep in the back, like a ghastly metronome.

‘I will move your desk 3 inches to the left.’

The soft rise and fall of the blonde’s chest is uniform, lungs contracting and expanding and contracting over and over.

‘I will literally stop watering the orchid Kats, I swear to god.’

Bakugou’s hands are by his side, nails longer than he’d ever keep. Kirishima makes a mental note to trim and file them later.

‘Ok, that’s going too far. I’d never kill Lucy, at least not on purpose.’

Bakugou continues to breathe with the help of a machine too complicated for Kirishima to understand, and the redhead just wants his best friend back. Because it’s been 16 days of Bakugou being fed and kept alive by a machine, it’s been 16 days since he heard his voice, saw his feral smile, looked into his bright, bright, bright eyes. And Kirishima is so ready for this nightmare to be over.

‘Come on Kats,’ Kirishima mumbles, laying his head down on the hospital bed and gently lacing his fingers with Bakugou’s, ‘you gotta wake up man. Our kitchen misses you. Our plants miss you. The neighbour’s cat misses you. Your mom misses you. I- fuck, I miss you.’

The machines continue to beep, his chest rises and falls uniformly, and Kirishima really just wants his best friend back.

    The Bakusquad (the official immortalized name of the gang) lets Kirishima stay in the hospital in 3 days bursts, following which they bodily throw him out. For fresh air and some sunlight, they say, like he’s a dying plant.

‘You need to shower in your own home,’ Kaminari grumbles, stuffing his dirty clothes in a bag.

Sero pulls a beanie over his head. ‘And also water the plants in the balcony.’

Ashido stuffs his wallet into his pant pocket and slips his phone into his hand. ‘Also, don’t forget to dust the bookshelves! And leave some fresh water for Queens.’ She pulls him down for a soft kiss on the cheek.

Jirou pulls the phone from his hand, fiddles with it for a moment before slipping it back into his palm. She places a pair of wireless Beats headphones over his beanie, and he hears the first notes of a piano piece, calm and really lovely.

‘Playlist is on there,’ Jirou says, pointing at his hand.

And so Kirishima goes home, the home he shares with Bakugou, and he waters their plants, and dusts the bookshelves, and does some laundry and cooks easy fried rice the blonde had drilled into his brain.

He doesn’t look at Bakugou’s room door, doesn’t venture inside, doesn’t touch his space. He sticks to the common areas and his own room, and he keeps it clean and tidy, the way Bakugou likes it.

He’ll get to the blonde’s room eventually, just not yet.

    Red Riot and Ground Zero are a hero pair. What this means is that they work individually when they want, and they pair up for bigger, more difficult missions.

And what a pair they make.

Riot is a wall, a shield, an unbreakable defence, always the last man standing. And Ground Zero is an explosion, a burst of light, an offence so quick and forceful the villains never stand a chance. They’re one of the best pairs out there, and they’ve done some amazing work.

It's almost stupidly ironic that Bakugou gets hurt during one of their paired missions.

The case involved several strong villains that attacked schools, and between rescue and evacuation and dealing with villains, Red Riot and Ground Zero had their hands full. Riot was mostly with the civilians and Ground Zero was keeping the damage to a minimum, but before Kirishima could go to Bakugou’s side and assist him, the damage had been done.

Because the last villain Bakugou had to deal with had decided to implode, killing himself and taking Bakugou out with him.

The damage had been immense.

Several concussions and broken ribs, bruises and internal bleeding that could only be controlled with a mix of surgeries and healing quirks. And finally, a waiting game. Bakugou had to wake up, his body had to heal itself and decide when and if he was going to wake up again.

And so Kirishima waits with him, silently supporting him from the side, ever patient, brimming with love.

    25 days after the attack, Kirishima finally walks into Bakugou’s room.

The air smells faintly like sugar, like his quirk. The walls are bare but for the few polaroids Kirishima tacks on the wall above his desk. The laptop and file folders are sitting atop his table, a thin layer of dust coating them, and the only messy thing is his unmade bed.

Kirishima crawls under his sheets, breaths in his scent, and for the first time since Bakugou had decided to be an ass and slip into a coma, the redhead cries. Giant sobs that seem to come from his core, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, snot dripping out his nose.

Kirishima cries with the force of a thousand suns, and falls asleep right there, twisted in Bakugou’s sheets, in his unmade bed, in the middle of a room covered in a thin, fine layer of dust, smelling only slightly like burnt, warm sugar.

    A month after the attack, Kirishima finally cleans Bakugou’s room.

Mina had made a good point. ‘If you don’t clean his room, it’s like you’re saying he’s not coming back so there’s no point. So, clean his room Eijirou.’

He appreciates that they don’t offer to do it. It’s usually impossible to keep them out of their apartment, impossible to keep them from getting belligerently drunk and playing monopoly on the living room floor while blasting 2000’s hits and throwing pieces of pepperoni at each other. Impossible to not love them.

But right now, the apartment is off-limits, and they seem to understand this. And respect it. And they understand that he needs a push here, a nudge there, and a gentle shove here to get his ass moving, to do the things he’s scared of doing, the things that just need to be done anyway

Kirishima loves them, so so much.

And so, he cleans. He dusts everything, puts Bakugou’s sheets in the wash and hangs his comforter out to dry. He fluffs up the All Might plushie and makes the bed, vacuums the floor, and puts his folded laundry back where it belongs in the closet.

He finds the box when he’s reorganizing Bakugou’s hero gear drawer. It’s a black box, smooth to the touch, no bigger than Kirishima’s palm, with just 2 words printed on top.

Death Box.

Its existence isn’t shocking to Kirishima. After all, he has one of his own, tucked neatly under his hanging jackets, pushed to the very back.

A Death Box is a pro-hero thing. It’s no secret that the life of a hero is riddled with danger and that one bad day could be the end. Every pro knows this. And most pro-heroes have a Death Box.

The contents of the box vary from person to person. Some leave behind letters addressed to friends and family. Others leave wills and assets and final testaments. Some leave behind cryptic messages or dramatic last words.

Kirishima never wondered about Bakugou’s box, and Bakugou had never asked about his own. But today, 31 days after the attack, 31 days of no Bakugou, 31 days of waking up with an ache in his chest because Kirishima’s heart is literally breaking, he finds himself gently pulling the box out and sitting on Bakugou’s bed, turning it over in his hands.

It’s really simple- no patterns or designs or anything. It's black as midnight, the lettering orange. Kirishima gently pops the box open and inside lays a single pen-drive. Nothing else.

Kirishima stares at it for a long, long time. He almost puts the box back in the drawer with the pen drive safely nestled inside, he almost forgets what he ever saw, he almost acts like he’s fine.

But he’s not fine. He’s so far from fine he can’t even spell the word. And he misses his friend with a pain so sharp he feels it in his bones. So Kirishima picks the pen drive up and takes it to the laptop. He switches the system on, plugs the drive in and waits for the program to load up.

Surprisingly, it isn’t password protected. He skims over the contents briefly. There’s a folder named Will and Final Testaments that he ignores completely. There’s another folder named Personal Project that he also leaves alone. The third folder is titled for everyone, and Kirishima clicks on that.

The folder is filled with video files of varying lengths. Each video is named after a specific person, and Kirishima smiles when he sees one for Bakugou’s mom, his dad, each of the Bakusquad, one for All Might, and one for Midoriya. The Deku video is easily bigger than all the others, all except one.

Because the one titled Shitty Hair is close to 45 minutes long.

Kirishima inhales shakily, and for once, he hesitates. Because once he watches this, he knows Bakugou will well and truly kill him. These videos, this content, it’s meant to be consumed after he dies. Not when he’s in a coma, not when he’s alive and fighting for his life. Not when he’s doing his best to come back.

But here’s the thing- Kirishima isn’t watching this because he thinks Bakugou’s as good as gone. He doesn’t believe that one bit. No, Kirishima is watching this because he misses Bakugou so much, so much that his insides feel like they're shredding up into little bits and pieces, and Kirishima just wants to hear him bark out his ugly laugh, he wants to see his eyes dance with mirth, he wants to watch Bakugou dump too much chilli into the curry and wrap himself into a blanket burrito on their couch in the dead of winter, cursing the weather viciously. He never thought he’d miss the way someone said fuck so much in his life, yet here he is.

So Kirishima inhales shakily, breathes out in a whoosh and hits play.

    2 years ago

Bakugou had put off recording Kirishima’s message for years.

The one to his parents was simple enough. Dad, thank you for being some kinda balance in the house, and for loving me ridiculously unconditionally. Hag, ma, we’ve always had our own issues and we love so violently, but I do love you. I always have. Thank you for making me the devil spawn I am, couldn’t have been so great if it weren’t for you.

The Bakusquad (ugh, what a dumb name) had a video each. They weren’t super long, but he loved them all, more than they’d ever know when he’s alive, and he thought they deserved to know if he ever died before getting around to drunkenly confessing it or something.

Sero, your stupid fucking jokes have made some shitty days so much better.

Jirou, you’re insanely strong and you’ve had my back on more occasions than I can count.

Mina, my girl, you’re the OG. Thank you for never giving up on me, for always pushing me to be part of the gang, for becoming my friend.

Kaminari, you’re always gonna be hella fucking stupid, but you’re my stupid friend, one of my closest buddies, and it was a pleasure knowing you.

He might actually die if they find this when he's alive, but that’s the whole point of Death Box- it's to say the things you can't when you're alive or to remind people of the things you felt after you’re gone.

Midoriya’s had been hard. Midoriya’s had been really hard.

Unpacking so many emotions, talking about the past, UA, the present; it made his blood boil but also made him immeasurably sad. After their first year, Midoriya and he had grown close. They still found it difficult to communicate like normal human beings, but they always had each other’s backs, no matter where or what. And even as pro-heroes, they worked together wonderfully, competed for #1 fiercely, pushed each other to incredible heights, and picked each other up after terrible missions.

Deku, I know so much of our past is water under the bridge for you, and that’s been great for us because it lets us have a sort of friendship. But I haven’t forgotten. I will never forgive myself and all I could do is be better.

For all the fucked up shit that we’ve been through, for how much I still get angry when I see you and how much I want to be better than you all the time, you are the brother I never had, the comrade that never left, the friend that I’ve never deserved.

Izuku, thank you. I’m sorry.

Admitting to most of these things isn’t difficultly because it’s all true. And honesty has always come easily to Bakugou. As an adult hero, he’s learned things about himself, his own feelings, his own version of love for the people around him. And he can’t bring himself to say those exact words to Izuku, but he hopes his actions (Bentos pressed into Midoriya’s hands after long patrols, sharing beers on rooftops, patching each other up after shitty missions) are message enough.

But Kirishima? How is he supposed to find the words to tell Kirishima how he feels? How much the redhead means to him? Where does he even begin?

Bakugou huffs and slaps himself on both cheeks. Kirishima is out for the day, taking Mina shopping at the mall and catching a movie with the gang, a plan Bakugou had gotten himself out of just so he could sit here, in the apartment he shares with the only person he has ever had the good fortune of being in love with, to record a final message. What a happy thought.

Bakugou thinks Fuck it, takes a seat in front of the camera, ruffles his hair, and hits record.

‘Hey Shitty Hair.’

    Hey Shitty Hair.

There are handprints on Bakugou’s face. His hair is a ruffled mess, his bed is unmade behind him, and his face looks almost nervous.

Kirishima doesn’t think about any of that.

Because seeing Bakugou on-screen with his red eyes boring into Kirishima, and hearing his voice, rough and loud and well-worn feels like the first breath of fresh air the redhead has gulped down in a month. It feels like a well-placed punch to the gut, and Kirishima almost bowls over, overwhelmed beyond comprehension.

He misses him so much.

Fuck, making this video is fucking hard, I’m not even sure where to start. Also, you better not be crying like a baby Ei, I sweat to God, I might be dead, but you still need to go out there and kick ass cause someone needs to take care of all those shitty villains.

Kirishima makes an aborted sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, because this is his best friend in the entire universe, the man he knows better than he knows himself. This is his person.

Anyway, I made a bunch of other videos for all the other losers, but yours has been the biggest pain in my ass. I guess the closer you are to someone, the harder it is right?

First off, I need to say thank you. For like, so much shit. Thank you for taking those first few steps in our friendship. For constantly pestering me and inserting yourself into my life. For training with me, including me in all kinds of stupid activities, and getting me into the gang. My time at UA would never have been so fun, so memorable, so amazing without you. You made it great, despite all the shit that went wrong.

The blonde sucks in a deep breath and his eyes pierce straight through Kirishima, peering right into his soul.

We don’t talk about Kamino because there’s never been the words. Ei, I was so scared. Fuck, I was so scared I couldn’t stop shaking. And then there you were, flying above me, hand outstretched and yelling at the top of your goddamn lungs ‘Come!’ And that’s it. I knew I’d be ok. I knew I’d be just fine.

And yeah, I mean, the pros were there and maybe we could’ve figured something else out and maybe things would’ve worked out a different way. But you guys coming for me, YOU reaching out to me? It was the first time I felt like I had friends. I had comrades. I had people. Of course, my emotionally stunted ass refused to accept these feelings, but they took root then. And continued to grow.

Bakugou sighs deeply and sits back in his chair. He looks at the ceiling and continues.

I’m not sure I know what love is. As a feeling, I don’t know how to categorize when I’m feeling love and when I’m not. At least, I didn’t for the longest time.

Bakugou looks back at the camera, and Kirishima’s vision is starting to blur dangerously.

I know I love my parents, but it feels different than the love I feel for the idiot brigade. It’s different from what I feel for Izuku. And it sure as hell feels different from the love I feel for you.

Bakugou sighs again, and his face breaks into the softest smile Kirishima has ever seen and everything hurts.

A few years ago, I think weeks after we’d moved into this place, we were making breakfast and you looked me dead in the eye and said ‘I think the morning glories are trying to kill me.’ And I laughed out loud and you looked so proud of yourself and I thought, ‘Shit, Ei is such an idiot.’ That’s when it hit me.

Bakugou’s smile grows fonder.

I don’t call people by their names even in my head Ei. You were Shitty Hair for most of our first year at UA. Then you became Kirishima, and then somehow it became Kiri, and then Eijirou and then Ei. Nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody else, is the same. Not a single fucking person.

The first time I called you Ei in my head, that’s when I realized I was in love with you.

Kirishima hits pause immediately. He closes the window, safely ejects the pen drive, puts it back in the box and returns it to its spot. He shuts the laptop down, walks out of Bakugou’s room and sits on the couch in the living area, the same one they’ve passed out on countless times, the same one they bought together with their first paychecks, the same one that’s stained with coffee rings and spaghetti sauce and pepperoni grease.

He picks his phone up on autopilot and dials a familiar number.

‘Kiri?’ Mina sounds like a hot cup of coffee on a chilly Tuesday morning.

‘Please come home.’

He hears some rustling and yelling in the background before Mina says, ‘Stay right there, we’ll be over as soon as Midoriya gets here ok?’

Kirishima hums out an affirmative and hangs up. It’s time they come home.

    67 days after the fight, Kirishima gets a call.

‘He’s awake.’

Red Riot is back on the streets, patrolling during the day, staying with Bakugou in the hospital at night and barely keeping his shit together. But it’s ok, it kinda works. Works well enough that he can do his job and do it well, and his friends are always there, picking up his pieces, keeping him sane.

Before Kirishima can say anything, Midoriya continues, ‘Chargebolt is almost at your location to relieve you, so go.’

He takes off running. His lungs burn and he can barely see where he’s going but he’s made this walk so many times he can do it in his sleep. He runs as fast as his legs can take him and makes them go faster.

Kirishima bursts into the hospital and takes the stairs 3 at a time. He finally gets to Bakugou’s floor and sprints to the door, and he can barely pull in enough air. He’s lightheaded, his heart is palpitating, and his vision is blurry but he slides the door open anyway.

Carmine eyes snap over to his and time just comes to a complete standstill. There are no doctors, no nurses. There’s no Bakugou Mitsuki, no beeping machines that breathe for him, no beeping machines that feed him, no white sterile walls and ugly hospital gowns. There is only Bakugou Katsuki, his bright, bright, bright eyes and a hand outstretched at Kirishima.

‘Ei-‘

And that’s it. One moment he’s standing in the doorway, the next he has Bakugou gathered in his arms, and he’s so warm and alive and it’s absolutely everything.

‘Kats,’ Kirishima mumbles. ‘Kats.’

‘Ei, if you start crying, I will smack the shit out of you.’

Kirishima’s laugh is watery. He pulls away and cups Bakugou’s face, smooshing his cheeks a little.

‘Kats, for once, shut the fuck up and let me feel my feelings. Do you have any idea how much the plants missed you?’

Bakugou’s mouth twists in a grimace but his eyes soften till they’re just liquid ruby and Kirishima falls a little more in love.

‘Just the plants?’

‘Shut the fuck up Kats.’ And Kirishima hugs him again, presses Bakugou’s face firmly into the crook of his neck. The blonde’s arms tighten around his middle, and the world feels whole again.

    A week after they return from the hospital, Bakugou finds a white envelope in the morning glories, the very same ones that Kirishima had insisted were trying to kill him.

To Kats it says in Kirishima’s untidy scrawl. Bakugou puts the watering can down and picks the letter up gently, opening it with trembling hands.

Dear Katsuki,

My Death Box has a bunch of letters in them. I wrote one for mom, one for mama, one for all our friends, I wrote letters to all of them.

Yours was the hardest because even after writing and rewriting it 5 times, it was always the same- all I can write to you is a love letter.

Bakugou doesn’t read the rest, just snaps his head up and looks around wildly.

‘EIJIROU, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YO-‘

‘I love you Kats.’ Kirishima is right there, standing by the balcony door, eyes wide and hopeful. He’s wearing sweatpants low on his hips, and in each hand, he holds a mug of steaming hot chocolate spiked with chilli. Mexican cocoa. Bakugou’s favourite.

He puts the mugs down on the balcony ledge. ‘I’ve loved you for so long, I don’t remember what it’s like to not be in love with you.’

‘Eijirou-‘

‘I love you.’ Kirishima steps forward and frames Bakugou’s face with his warm, calloused hands, and smiles big. ‘What about you?’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘What do you think, Shitty Hair?’

‘Gotta hear you say it, Kats.’  

‘You’re a pain in my ass.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re so annoying.’

‘I agree.’

‘Your hair still sucks.’

‘Your nose twitches when you lie.’

‘And I love you so much anyway.’ Bakugou finishes and places his hands over Kirishima’s and squeezes.

‘Don’t start crying Ei.’

‘Let me feel my feelings, Kats.’

‘I’m not kissing you if you’re covered in fucking snot.’

Kirishima laughs at that, pulling Bakugou close. ‘Your nose still twitches when you lie.’

Bakugou doesn’t deign that with a response, just smirks his trademark smirk, looks at Kirishima with those bright, bright, bright eyes and kisses him stupid.

‘Again,’ Kirishima mumbles.

Bakugou does just that.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #mha #my hero fanfic #kiribaku #bakushima #bnha kirishima #bakugou katsuki #bakusquad #ashido mina #sero hanta #kaminari denki #THANKS TO MY BEST FRIEND FOR NAMING THE FIC AND READING IT ONE BILLION TIMES #so this story is hurt/comfort and so much fluff #I LOVE KIRIBAKU SO MUCH ITS ABSURD #hope you enjoy :D

[leejeongz]

jealous treasure (hyunsuk-jaehyuk)

requested: yes, by anon

🔅hiii! thanks for requesting. sorry this took so long 😭 i wrote it all and the. decided i didn’t like what i wrote so i had a breakdown and started again. but nevertheless here we are. I hope you like it! i made jihoon’s a little longer since idk he was the one this was based off of🔅

⛱ a/n no. 2 i’m gonna use another member in each one because it’s easier than making up a whole new person and explaining a bit about them for each one if that makes sense. but this is just for fun, it’s fictitious, remember that pls⛱

find the other members here

🪐 hyunsuk:

having never met his closest friends before, you wanted to dress nicely on the day. you grabbed the accessories that you had laid out the night before that went perfectly with your outfit and put them on while admiring how great you looked in the mirror.

upon arriving at the diner, you spotted your boyfriend and his friends sat closely together. you slowly walked over to their booth, not wanting to seem too eager. your boyfriend stood up and flashed you a smile before pointing for you to sit next to a boy dressed in blue and while, who you later found out was named mashiho. you ordered from the menu together and started to chat amongst yourselves.

“so what do you do, y/n?” the boy next to you asked while hyunsuk was distracted.

“i’m a student, but i work part time. actually i work just over the road” you pointed to the sports shop over the way.

“i think i’ve seen you in there before, sorry i didn’t recognise you, you look so different when you’re not wearing their fluorescent uniform,” he smiled, pointing to the bright trainers you now remember selling him a few weeks ago.

“oh that was you?” you laughed loud enough to catch hyunsuk’s attention, who’s smile faded as he glanced at the pair of you bonding “nice taste” you complimented mashiho.

“not as nice as mine though, right?” hyunsuk piped up, while brushing the shoulder of his shirt.

“it’s not a competition” you smiled, awkwardly, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.

“but if it was…” one of his other friends spoke. you made a mental note that from now on, you hated that guy.

you thought about your response for a while. mashiho looked disinterested, too busy picking the crispiest fries from his plate. your boyfriend, however, looked a little helpless, he was practically begging with his eyes for you to compliment him.

“then i think my boyfriend would win. hyunsuk has better taste than anyone, and i think we can all agree” you rattled on, face burning, knowing that the others around the table thought you were just sucking up to him.

“well of course, i fell for you, baby” hyunsuk winked in your direction while his friends made exaggerated heaving noises at your cringiness as a couple.

🌸 jihoon:

you have the pettiest boyfriend, you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it. he gets jealous even at the tiniest things, but it’s kind of endearing. your graduation was no exception, he really wanted to be happy all afternoon, but seeing you with so many guys hugging you while you cried tears of joy, made him mad, that should be him.

to treat you (and also to show off to everyone that you were his) he took you to the bar in town that you liked the most. you sat down at the table for two and scanned over the menu, wondering why you were even looking, knowing you were going to order the same thing as always. you told jihoon what you wanted as you could see the waiter getting nearer to your table, he always ordered for you when you asked him to.

“y/n” you heard coming from behind you. you turned around to see a familiar face, junghwan, and following behind him, a friend of his that you’d once met in passing.

“i saw that you graduated today! congratulations!” he spoke, indicating that you stand for a hug. meanwhile, jihoon ordered, but not without side eyeing you and this boy.

“can we join a table onto ours please and make it sit 4 people?” you asked the waiter who nodded and did as you requested without a fuss.

jihoon shot you the darkest stare at you sat opposite to him. “our order will be out way before theirs” he snarled quietly.

“it’s fine we can bring them out at the same time” the waiter smiled at him upon hearing your boyfriends petty remark.

“thanks” jihoon replied sarcastically, the smile on his face showing clear signs that the waiter needs to back off now.

“so why are you here?” junghwan asked “you should be going out partying, is he not letting you?” he looked over a jihoon after joking around with you a little.

“there are no parties to go to” you frowned, “but i’d rather spend my days with jihoon, and now you guys, than with my classmates anyway” you bubbled. you looked over once again at your boyfriend, who’s expression was still as stern as when they'd arrived. you kicked at his leg gently and flashed him a warm smile, hoping he’d mimic it and look at least a little genuine with it.

“i’m going to the bathroom, order quickly” jihoon told the pair. you glared at him as he walked off, all while still trying to participate in the conversation. jihoon returned with an obviously fake smile, yet it was an improvement so you went along with it. to your surprise, jihoon had managed to endure 3 drinks before deciding it was time to leave and go home with you, which you were more than happy to do since the bar was getting pretty full. you said your goodbye to the two friends with a small hug, while jihoon watched from the side. “come on” he rolled his eyes as he watched your arms wrap around junghwan’s shoulders.

leaving the bar, jihoon’s hand engulfed yours. “there has got to be some kind of reward for spending 90 minutes with them. oh and for watching all of those other guys hug you” he whispered into your ear “i’m sure you’ll think of something”. he laughed a little and pressed a warm kiss against your cheek. you smirked, knowing the perfect way to show him that you were all his, now almost too eager to get home.

⚡️ yoshi:

“it’s just what we needed” yoshi relaxed back onto the sofa, stretching an arm out to the side and wrapping it around you casually. you threw the remote onto the coffee table and nestled into your boyfriend. today was movie day, a full marathon of romcoms, chosen by you.

the first movie, you cried. the second, you cried again. however, by the third, you’d gotten a little bit bored. you pulled your phone from your back pocket, your fidgeting catching yoshi’s attention.

“hey what’s wrong?” he asked, his question fading as he read your notifications. “why did haruto ring you-“ he paused to check the number “4 times?” he didn’t think too much of it. you guys were friends, your boyfriend just wanted to know the gossip.

you called him back straight away, leaving your boyfriend clueless. he waited patiently as you spoke on the phone. “no way!” you let out with a smile “i’ll be there in a second” you got up, wafting your hand so that yoshi would follow.

“what why?” he stayed put, waiting for a response.

“he said he’s got a surprise for me” you rushed, getting your coat on as quickly as possible. yoshi, once again, sat back in his comfortable position, which you knew meant that he was not moving any time soon.

“but what about our movie day” he whined and sulked. you rolled your eyes knowing he wouldn’t stop for anything, you had to give in. you slowly started removing your jacket, pulling your phone out of the pocket and launching it towards the sofa.

“i’ll just text him and tell him to give it to me, the love of your life, okay?” he continued “gosh he knew it was our day, he should have left us alone instead of distracting you”

you smiled at his hint of jealousy, hoping it wouldn’t be the last you ever saw, because honestly, his mini tantrum was rather cute.

🌟 junkyu:

“what homework is that? what subject?” junkyu shuffled through your sheets of paper over your shoulder with a pout while you worked.

“considering i study japanese i think it would be pretty wild if it was the timeline of the spanish armada, don’t you?” you snapped unexpectedly, you’re not even sure why you said it in the tone you did.

“i was just making conversation” he slumped onto the bed while pulling a face behind your back, only then noticing the familiar young boy on your phone screen. “oh, you’re calling someone, i’ll leave, give you some privacy” he pouted once again, dragging himself from your bed. “clearly i'm not needed here”

you turned to asahi, the boy you were calling, who was generously helping with your work, as he avoided eye contact with you. you stared at the small image of yourself in the corner, biting your lip with guilt.

“i’m sorry junkyu, i didn’t mean to snap” you admitted, throwing your head into your hands as soon as the words left your mouth. you’d be kind of stressed lately with all the learning, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on your boyfriend, you thought.

“it’s okay, you shouldn’t be nice to me when your handsome tutor is calling, i understand” he rolled his eyes and tutted with a hint of exaggeration. it didn’t take long for him to register what had just happened though, as a few seconds later you felt his arms wrap around you from the back and a gentle kiss placed on top of your head. he turned off the call and whispered an almost silent “sorry”.

“i only called him to help with this one passage.”

“you don’t need to explain to me. but why didn’t you ask me for help?” he blew his cheeks up and pouted in a way that was even bigger than before. “i'm really good at japanese” he boasted

“junkyu, sweetie, next time maybe” you giggled, finally regaining the power to sit up again slightly. “but your jealousy was kinda cute, so maybe i will call mashiho next time”

“don’t even think about it” he hushed you in a harsh, yet sarcastic tone.

☀️ mashiho:

it was pretty rare that mashiho got jealous, or that he told you/showed you that he was at least. you and doyoung actually spent a lot of time together these days and your boyfriend never seemed to mind so you never stopped. but little did you know, he’d just about reached breaking point. he was tired of you “not being able to meet up with him” because you’d already made arrangements with doyoung to do something. he wanted to do those things with you.

“where are you going? you don’t usually dress like that on a sunday?” he questioned as you headed towards the door.

“i told you, doyoung and i are gonna watch that movie today. i can’t go in my pjs” you replied.

“oh with doyoung, i should have guessed” he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the sofa. he pulled his phone from his pocket, ready to text one of his friends once again to ask if they wanted to do something.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you turned your head back to look at him. he looked hot like that, but you didn’t think right now was the time to bring it up.

“you’re always doing things with him. would it be so wrong if you went and watched a movie with me?” he asked as you walked towards him, ready to hug him and apologise. you thought for a moment, realising that you had been spending more time with doyoung than your own boyfriend, but was it really all that bad? you sat besides him and placed his phone on the sofa so he had nothing to do other than talk to you about this.

“so i can’t see my friends?” you snapped back at him in a higher pitch, even though he wasn’t shouting at you. his eyes softened and his right eye filled with tears, shortly followed by his left. you refused to look at him, half in anger, half in shame.

“that’s not what i meant, you know that. just go, have fun” he ran his hand down your arm while you sat in silence. it really was that bad. you didn’t want to be THAT couple who never did anything together.

“do you want to come with?” you smiled.

“maybe, only if we, you and i, can go bowling afterwards, alone” he replied as if he was still mad.

“of course!” you exclaimed, it was an offer you couldn't refuse. upon hearing your response, mashiho grabbed your hand, leading you to his room which was full of clothes.

“now, which tshirt matches with yours the best?” he hummed.

❄️ jaehyuk:

more than the party itself, wayyy more than the party itself, you enjoyed having your friends over beforehand to get ready and vibe with. tonight you expected only your boyfriend but he ended up bringing along another friend too, yedam, who you were actually pretty close to, he even introduced you to jaehyuk in the first place.

both had gotten changed pretty quickly in the bathroom while you slipped into your outfit in your bedroom. you were just applying a layer of lipstick when you heard a knock at the door.

“can i come in?” yedam asked.

you shouted a “yes” and he did so. his outfit was all black except for the flannel he’d thrown on, his hair was a little messy and his boots were untied.

“look at my nails” he smiled brightly, offsetting his outfit perfectly. “i just painted them so they’re wet, and jaehyuk is doing his business in there. can you tie my shoes for me, please?” he begged. you agreed and offered your chair as a place for him to put his shoe. “tight trousers” he shrugged, leaving you with no other option but to get down on the floor and tie them, it was a good job it was yedam, you thought.

“get up” jaehyuk’s voice could be heard from a mile away, despite how softly spoken he is. you stood up and looked over at him with wide eyes “oh i thought you were proposing” he laughed, playing the whole thing off as a joke. “let me, i don’t want your outfit to get dirty, which might i add looks extremely good, honey” he complimented while getting down on the floor to tie his friends' laces.

“yoon jaehyuk, are you jealous?” you smirked, looking over at yedam, who was smiling too.

“no, i just don’t want your outfit to get messed up, i just said that” he lied once again. “but if you were proposing yeah, i think i’d be pretty jealous” he continued.

#treasure #treasure reactions #treasure imagines #choi hyunsuk #hyunsuk #jaehyuk #yoon jaehyuk #mashiho #junkyu #yoshi #park jihoon #jihoon #long post

[sculderfan]

Never Give Up On A Miracle

Also on AO3

Mulder sat quiet, not daring to breathe, not daring to hope, the anger in his gut white hot as it burned out of control. Here he was again, at her bedside and this time was just too Goddamned close. ‘Why?’ He asked of Whatever it was “out there”. ‘Why are you doing this, what’s your grand plan?’

Scully’s faith had always been such a part of everything she was. Her unbending Irish Catholicism had always been the one thing she counted on. He knew this, because she had told him this many, many times.

“I just wish I could believe”, he murmured. “but how can I when You keep pulling this shit?”

He slowly got to his feet, his knees aching with their refusal to kneel and pray. Walking to the window, he looked up at the sky where a shadow of a sliver of moon floated in the not night of the city lights. Leaning his forehead on the cool glass of the window, he closed his eyes over tears of pain left over from years of loss and broken hopes.

“I can’t.” he cried softly, “I can’t!”

The door to the hospital room opened softly and a nurse entered. She was tall and sturdy, with dark hair cut in a short bob. Mulder turned as she entered and was met with the kindest, most loving gaze he could remember. She smiled gently and reached out to touch his arm. The anger that had been raging within him at the unfairness of the situation and his own impotency to do anything dissipated with that one touch. He felt the love coming from this woman in a wave that quenched the burning embers of his soul and instead left a soft wonder.

“I’m Nurse Owens”. She said. “I’m here to care for Dana.”  

“I’m ….” The lump in his throat kept him from speaking.

“I know.” She said moving towards the bed where Scully lay unconscious. “It’s so hard when they’re beyond our reach. We just have to trust and have faith.” She looked up at the sound of Mulder’s derisive snort and waited until he met  her gaze.

“You always have wondered how she never wavered. How she always believed so fully in the face of challenges. Faith knows that no matter what the situation, in our lives or someone else's that things will turn out for good; that there’s something bigger than us at work, guiding us; watching out for us.

You think yourself a non-believer, yet you trust so deeply. Your faith in her would stun her if she could feel it.”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly, overwhelmed that someone he just met would know him so well.

“I know.” She said almost in a whisper.

Nurse Owens bent to softly kiss Scully’s forehead and looked up at Mulder standing by the window, transfixed by grief and the feelings he wasn’t used to experiencing. “You were right to come tonight. Dana has a choice to make and you always are at her side for the hard ones. She needs you here.”

She straightened the sheet covering her patient lovingly and left the room almost without sound leaving Mulder in the not-silence of beeping monitors and Scully softly breathing.

Walking slowly to her bedside, he gently took her hand as if it were a fragile baby bird. He stood silently, the truth within him swirling in his gut and squeezing the breath from his lungs.

“Scully, I hope you can hear me.” He said choking on the lump in his throat. “I’m here. I have to tell you. You can’t leave me. Please! I need you…. I …I… I love you” he sobbed.  

He crumpled at her bedside to his knees, his forehead bowed, remembering all the times he could have said something but was too scared by the enormity of what he felt for the diminutive redhead, her prone form belying the strength and power she had within her. His lips found the back of her hand, disturbed by the loop of IV tubing taped there.

“Scully, please”, he whispered. “Come back to me”.

The IV pump started alarming on the other side of the as the infusion was complete. One of the other nurses came in quietly to check it and turn it off, looking at the broken man before him. His own eyes burned with tears for the shattered man before him. Mulder didn’t even look up. Another person entered and spoke softly to the nurse.

“Time to drain the tubing and do my vent check. How’s she doing tonight, Mike?”

“Holding her own”. Said the nurse.

The Respiratory Therapist nodded and stepped over to where Mulder knelt in front of the vent. She lightly rested her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Sir, but I need to get behind you. Are you all right? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mulder looked up into young old eyes. The RT didn’t look like she had been long out of high school yet had a wisdom and a weariness of having seen too many things for her age. No judgment was there, only kindness. He sniffed and stood up, moving out of her way but still holding Scully’s hand.

“Sorry” he mumbled.

“Oh it’s no problem,” she said, “I just need to do my vent check and I’ll be out of here.”

As she was checking the seal of the tubing and the machine breathing for the woman in the bed, she reached over and thumbed the nurse call button. Mulder heard the beeping outside the room and Mike came back in, looking askance at the standing occupants.

“You rang?” he said with a small smirk.

“Yeah, Thought you should know, she’s starting to fight the vent. Might want to let her doc know”.  

Just then the alarms began going off on the monitors and the ventilator. Mike quickly went to assess the patient and the screens. Assuring Mulder that this was probably nothing while he urged him out of the room, he quickly pulled the curtains. Closed out and dismissed, Mulder looked around, seeing the hospital around him for the first time in hours. He stepped to the Nurses’ Station.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“Hard to tell, we’ll see. Don’t worry. Mike’s one of the best and Tabitha knows her stuff.” The nurse at the desk told him. “Why don’t you go get something to eat while they’re busy? You’ve been there for hours without a break. You’re no use to her if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Mulder was obviously not in the same world she was, so she stood and reached across the desk to him, lightly touching his arm. “Agent Mulder. I know you don’t want to leave your partner, but you need to take care of yourself. Go. Grab something downstairs. I’ll call you if anything changes, I promise. I have your cell number.”

Mulder nodded slightly and turned to walk off towards the elevators like a lost little boy, each step dragging with the weight of his sadness. The nurse at the desk watched him go and shook her head, sitting back down. “Hmph,” she mumbled. “Just partners my ass”. At the next desk, another nurse smirked and shook his head.

“I know, right?” he said. “Who does he think he’s fooling? That man is in love!”

Just then Mike came out of Scully’s room with a kilowatt smile. “Call Dr. Daly. Stat! I think we’re waking up! Too early to tell, yet. ”

“No shit?! Well, all right!” she said reaching for the phone as Mike returned to his patient.

***

Mulder wasn’t hungry as he came out of the elevator, but he knew the nurse upstairs had been right. He had to eat something. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything. He got himself a cup of coffee and a bagel, almost breaking down again as he reached for the silver foil packet of cream cheese – they had regular and light. ‘I’ll never let her eat light cream cheese again’, he thought to himself, remembering how she always made it a point to go light or diet conscious whenever possible. He chucked to himself at her constant war against calories. He found a table off to the side and sat down, lost in his thoughts.

“Excuse me. Mr.  Mulder, is it?”

He looked up to see the Scully family priest, Father McCue standing there.

“I thought it was you. I was in the hospital for another parishioner and was going to stop in to see Dana while I was here. You look like you could use a friend.”

Mulder motioned for him to have a seat. With a sigh, he told him what he knew and didn’t know. There was something about the man that just made it easy to talk to him.

“You know she has to make up her own mind about this. Dana has always been a stubborn little thing.”

“You’ve known her a long time?”

“Her mother and I go way back, to before she married Bill. We were in school together. I know all the Scullys. Look, Mr. Mulder. I don’t know if you are a religious man, but I think you know there’s more than meets the eye out there. Sometimes you just have to have faith that things will work out. It’s hard sometimes in the face of struggle, but you can’t give up on miracles.”

Just then Mulder’s cell phone rang. He almost dumped his coffee on the priest in his hurry to get it out of his pocket. As he listened to the caller, a smile began and grew. He looked over at the priest as he disconnected the call and held out his hand.

“You’re absolutely right, Father. Miracles happen every day. Scully woke up. I have to go.”

As he hurried out of the cafeteria with a spring in his step, Father McCue looked heavenward and smiled to himself and nodded.

#txf a little angst mulder has faith one breath

[fanartfunart]

Fly Away

Episode 1: Paon Lilas (*Lilac Peacock)

Ao3 Link (If I actually continue this, check my Ao3 of the same name “Fanartfunart”.. Considering how much mental real estate it’s taking up, I probably will.)

An au in which Adrien didn't succeed in trying to 'sneak' into brick and mortar school and therefore also didn't get the Black Cat miraculous..... but he did find a pretty peacock. (It's in his house... I mean....) Ladybug and Féline Sombre (Who uses She/They. Black Cat hero name thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries) get some help from the mysterious peacock miraculous holder, but Ladybug isn’t sure he’s 100% doing this for good.

Warnings: Canon typical violence.... Not much else? Tell me if I need to add anything.

A/N because Brick and Mortar schoolers never know that’s what they are: "Brick and Mortar school" is a homeschool/online school method of reference to in-person schools before calling it “in-person” was a thing. I 100% think Adrien would use that phrasing. (if the writers knew it existed...Tho. Idk if there's a French equivalent)

-*-

Adrien knew he shouldn’t be doing this. This was a worse idea than trying to sneak his way into brick and mortar school. He’d only seen it by accident. He wasn’t even doing very good at committing to breaking into his father’s mysterious safe. This was the third time he’d come back down to find out what was behind that painting.... He should really not be doing this. But...a secret compartment behind his mother’s painting was just… too interesting to ignore. He unfurled an umbrella to cover himself from the cameras his father probably had in the room. Inching his way to the painting of his mother. 

...He had had far too much time to think about this. He only had to punch in the code once (his mother’s birthday- frankly, his father really needed a code harder to guess), for the safe to click and unlock.

The contents… were not what he anticipated. It looked like a keepsake box, not a super secret compartment. He ghosted a hand over the frame of his mother’s photo, blinking away the lingering sadness. ...A peacock brooch? He picked it up, tumbling it in his hand. It almost hummed with energy. He tilted his head, brow raised.

Footsteps.

Adrien frantically closed the hidden compartment and glancing for a hiding place. The umbrella closed over his head just as he dove for the curtain. That… might bruise. He flattened himself against the windowsill, going on his tip-toes on the barely-there window ledge. 

From the distinct clack of dress shoes on the floor, his father had entered the room. Adrien held his breath, hearing his father’s footsteps come closer. A strange whirr. Then silence. Adrien stood there for a long moment, feeling the edges of the peacock brooch dig into his clenched fist. Heart hammering. But father never called for Natalie, or his bodyguard, or moved, or anything. It was eerily quiet. The umbrella peaked out of the curtain. He popped open the umbrella to find… no one. 

"What?" Adrien whispered to himself. He frowned, and tiptoed out from the window, before racing out of the room, down the hall, and outside. Once safely in the garden, he dropped the umbrella. He slid down into the grass, taking deep breaths. 

The brooch vibrated.

Wait. The brooch vibrated? He opened his hand. He had to shield his face from the burst of light. He opened an eye to see… a tiny… hummingbird? No, it was a peacock. Why is a peacock… floating? And Tiny? And why isn’t he sneezing? Are miniature peacocks hypoallergenic? “What the...”

“Ooooo, hello!” The creature said cheerfully, “Lovely weather isn’t it? Beautiful flowers! Nice to be outdoors for once isn’t it? Are you my new miraculous wielder? You’re so cute! You look almost like…” tears welled up into the miniature peacock’s eyes. Adrien looked around frantically. It kept talking unintelligibly between sobs, gesturing vaguely.

“Are you… okay?”

“Noooooooo.”

“Right. Er-” Adrien frowned, clearly it wasn’t going to make sense if he asked what was wrong. He opted for distraction. “Do… you want something to eat?”

“Oh sure!” The tiny peacock’s tears cleared up immediately.

Adrien blinked at the sudden change in mood and nodded “Let’s… Let’s go get you something to eat… I guess. Er, what are you?”

"Oh I'm Duusu, a kwami, I can grant the power to hone emotions into constructs."

He tilted his head. The image of Ladybug summoning her Lucky Charm came to mind. "Like… a superhero? How?”

"Well you are transformed by a magic phrase, and once transformed, you can create a sentimonster out of vibrant emotions. Whoever holds the Amok, the item imbued with power, can control the sentimonster."

“Oh, cool!”

"It is! Do you have any mangoes? I love mango."

“We’ll see.” Adrien glanced at the peacock brooch and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked back at the door inside, then Duusu. “Actually, can you… hide? Just for now-”

“Oh yes! Don’t worry! I know the Kwami and our wielder's identities are a secret.” The kwami zipped into Adrien’s over-shirt inner pocket and settled there. It felt… almost natural. He smiled a bit to himself and went to find out if they had some good fruit for the tiny peacock. 

-

The TV played in the background while Duusu had another sudden breakdown about… something. Adrien still wasn’t sure what. He was starting to feel very out of his depth. 

“Duusu.... Duusu. D- Duusu, do you want to talk about it?” There was a pause before the tears flowed even harder. Adrien was reminded of a sprinkler.

His eyes were pulled to the TV, with a flash of red and black blurring on the screen. Followed by an Akuma. Ladybug and Féline Sombre. He glanced at the Kwami. “Duusu… you mentioned you can give me powers, right?”

“Mhm! You just have to say ‘Spread my feathers.’”

“Alright! Duusu-”

“OH! Wait I didn’t-”

“Spread my feathers!” The transformation felt so natural, like he was made to do this. He struck a pose and smiled behind the fan that materialized in his hand. “Alright, let’s go help Ladybug and Féline Sombre.”

He didn’t expect to start… feeling, seeing emotions. Although he supposed that made sense for the power set. They were everywhere- it was like being dropped into the deep end of a pool, surrounded and covered. Fear, worry, frustration, annoyance, determination. Stronger emotions felt… bigger, somehow. The world was full of colors and feelings he’d never expected. He lept across rooftops, feeling like he was flying. His own elation from the truest sense of freedom he’s ever had in… ever; a bright vibrant bubble. He stumbled to a stop as he spotted Ladybug.

Ladybug was determined… and scared? He didn’t expect that from Paris’s hero. She kept looking around, searching for a plan. The redhead cat hero dove in from above and smacked the Akuma with their baton. Her baton was then immediately captured and swallowed by the plants under the Akuma’s control. Féline Sombe pulled desperately before eventually giving up and vaulting towards Ladybug. She was scared too, he noticed, and frustrated.

The Akumatized person was angry. So so angry it was overwhelming. He almost couldn’t see the person behind their anger. “It’s only a matter of time before Chloé Bourgeois and the litterers of Paris pay!” The plant-covered Akuma cackled. 

Chloe?! Well that’s not good. One of his only friends is in danger?

“Bonzaniac is just gonna grow bigger if they go anywhere near the Eiffel. We need to prune this plant before it’s unmanageable.” Ladybug told Féline Sombre, wrapping her yo-yo around the Akuma’s legs, straining to control Bonzaniac’s movement.

Féline Sombre gestured widely, “If I touch them I’ll just become Cat-nip! How are we supposed to stop them?”

Ladybug called her Lucky Charm, ending up with a polka dotted fishing pole. “How’s that supposed to help?” 

The peacock hero frowned and… Chloé? What’s she doing here? Bonzaniac noticed her as well, it seemed, because the plant growth reached toward her. Chloé’s fear grew rapidly and immediately. He plucked a feather from the fan, imbuing it with power. He dove from his perch on the roof down towards Chloé and Bonzaniac. 

“Fly away, darling amok.” The feather fluttered into Chloé’s necklace. He grabbed a traffic cone and hurled it at the plant tendrils, keeping it from touching Chloé. Féline Sombre quickly took over the idea, batting away the tendrils with a trash can lid. (That made Chloé cringe.) A purplish mask of light illuminated Chloé’s and his own face. “Chloé, I am…er- Paon Lilas. I can sense your fear. Let me help you turn it into safety. I can grant you a construct to protect you.” 

“Then just do it already!” Chloé cried, “Please just don’t let it turn me into a sticky sappy gross tree!” A large golden bear materialized in front of Chloe. It roared and Chloé gasped. “Mr. Cuddles!”

Ladybug was... understandably confused. “What? Another Akuma?” She furrowed her brow and deepened her fighting stance.

“OH! No no no, uh, I’m Paon Lilas." He flourished his fan with a bow. "I’m here to help.”

Ladybug’s suspicion grew, but he didn’t have much of a chance to explain himself as Bonzaniac roared and turned on him, aiming their plant tendrils towards him. “Hey! I’m not really the roosting type of bird!” He dived for cover behind a car, patting himself down, “Come on, is the only weapon I get a fan? Why couldn’t I get a baton or something like that?”

The gold bear attacked Bonzaniac, knocking them down. Bonzaniac grappled the bear in plants, taking the plants away from protecting their back.

Ladybug gasped, "There! They only have so much plant matter! Féline, destroy as much plant matter as you can, Paon, distract Bonzaniac! I'm going Akuma fishing."

The two other heroes nodded. 

"Cataclysm!" Féline Sombre yelled, summoning black destructive energy around their hand. She ducked and weaved towards the center of Bonzaniac's plant mass, jumping out of the way of grasping tendrils. 

Paon Lilas whistled "Hey Bonzaniac, have you heard about Fast Fashion? I use all my outfits that way. Never worn the same shirt twice!"

The Akuma roared "All. That. WASTE!" They focused a massive amount of plant matter towards him. 

"Didn't think that'd work so effectively," he muttered under his breath. He lept out of the way, and back around the bend of the car. The plants wrapped up around the car. He whooped in triamph.

Féline Sombre finally managed to hit Bonzaniac, severely reducing the amount of plants in their control. Ladybug swung the fishing pole and caught a necklace from in the middle of the thicket of plant matter. She crushed it under foot and captured the purple butterfly that fluttered out. 

Mr Cuddly the sentibear sat on the Akuma victim. Paon frowned and glanced at Chloé. The gardener looked dazed and confused.

“Now who do you think you are?” Chloe said, crossing her arms.

The gardener smacked the side of the over large bear. “Wh- you! You littered in my garden! And refused to simply pick it up!”

“So what? That's not my job," Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. The sentibear huffed with her.

Paon snapped his fingers, pulling the amok from the necklace, the sentibear disappearing. Chloe gasped, pouting.

"Mademoiselle Chloe," Paon sighed softly, "How would you feel if someone threw trash into your beautiful hair and refused to help clean it up?" Chloe grabbed her hair, and Paon saw her horror at the concept. "Exactly. That garden takes just as much work, or more, as your hair. I suggest apologizing."

She pouted, "Fine, your garden was pretty or whatever, sorry I messed it up." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "There. I apologized."

Féline Sombre and Ladybug chatted in the background. Féline grabbed their baton and with a light salute, she vaulted away. 

Paon's Miraculous beeped. That... meant something right?

"Birdy!" Ladybug called, walking toward him, her own Miraculous beeping. "Where did you get that Miraculous?"

"Oh… um…. Funny story-"

"I'm sorry, but you need to give it to me. It doesn't belong to you."

"What?" Paon took a step back, "Why?" 

"It's been lost. I'm going to take it back to the original owner."

Paon paled. Did Ladybug know his father? Or did his father find the lost miraculous without giving it back? Did his father know what it was? What would happen if his father found out he took it? The bubble of elated freedom popped. "That… sounds like a great, morally right thing to do… but… consider…” He took a soft step back, glancing up to find a path of escape, hands raised surrender. “I can't. Sorry, bye!" Paon ran, leaping up and away.

Ladybug moved to go after him, only for her miraculous to beep again. Sabrina had run in just in time to comfort Chloé, so Ladybug sighed and ran in the opposite direction.

Adrien tripped over himself as he detransformed in a back alley. His legs weak, and head dizzy. "Woah- is that normal?"

Duusu looked up at him with sad eyes. "I meant to tell you. The miraculous is broken... If you continue to use it... it will hurt you."

"... Does it hurt you?"

Duusu thought for a moment. "The transformation? No.... It is nice... to see another use it's power so kindly."

Adrien glanced down. He looked at the broach clipped to his overshirt. The lightness... the freedom. He nodded firmly. Unclipping it from his shirt and instead clipping it in his inside pocket. Hidden. "I'll be careful. Come on, let's get something to eat...” He rubbed his head, “I feel like we both need it."

-

Marinette just barely managed to make it to the bakery before the afternoon rush.

"Marinette! How was school?” Tom called, opening his arms for a hug. She happily took her place in her father’s arms.

"Not great.. Chloé caused another Akuma."

Tom sighed and shook his head, releasing her with a pat on the back. "At least we have Ladybug and Féline Sombre. Come on, if you can't learn in peace at school you can learn some more Dupain-Chang classics!"

Marinette chuckled and nodded, heading over to get ready to work behind the counter.

The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a young blond. She stared at him. He seemed oddly familiar. She started picturing him against all the blonds she knew, although her brain was still somewhat stuck on the Peacock Miraculous holder…. She really needed to talk to Master Fu about that. 

The boy stumbled. He was just about to faceplant into the counter before Marinette, intending to catch him- shoved him. He fell on his rear instead. 

“OH, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Marinette cried, moving to pull him up to his feet. He was surprisingly light, ohmy and now she just manhandled him like a human doll.

“It’s okay! You saved me from what was probably a worse fate.” He giggled awkwardly, "Thanks... I’ve been.. a bit dizzy today, I guess."

"Oh, I hope you feel better, anything I can do to help?"

"Heh, I was looking for food. Got some, er, fruity stuff?"

"Fruity, fruit. For sure, fruit." Marinette stared at him a bit longer. Finally the images and fashion magazine clippings clicked next to the boy’s face. She gasped "Adrien Agreste! You're Gabriel Agreste's son! He’s my favorite fashion designer!"

He laughed awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah… That’s… that’s me."

"You probably hear that all the time, sorry! But! Fruit." She walked over to the counter and gestured at the prepared goods. "Macaroons are always good, and there's some a couple of fruit Eclairs, brioche and jam-"

He smiled somewhat stiffly, before frowning at the eclairs. He made a subtle 'come here' gesture. Marinette looked down at the eclairs herself, unsure what exactly made him frown.

He sighed, adjusting his overshirt. (Duusu settled nicely into the pocket again, glad to have been able to choose his treat.) "I think one of those is good.... Er... actually, I think two." 

He handed her the money, and she handed him the pastries. "Thank you."

She smiled, "Thank you! Come again soon. Just try not to trip, that's usually my thing."

He laughed. "Actually…” He takes a bite of his eclair, with a smile “I think I will definetly try to come in again."

"Oh! Okay, cool!"

He waved and walked out of the establishment with a small smile.

Tom leaned over as she watched him leave. "Flirting with the customers?"

Marinette gasped dramatically, "NoOo dad no. He's... just a friend."

Adrien leaned against a wall and sighed. Duusu floated up into view, taking a section of eclair. "Ah young love..."

He shook his head, "...She's just a friend..." He gasped, glancing back at the bakery with a smile, "A friend."

-

Marinette frowned, "Wait, Master Fu, do you think he could be working with Hawkmoth?"

"It is a possibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if the butterfly and the peacock had been nearby each other. If you can find out where he found it, it may help us find Hawkmoth.”

“Hm, he didn’t seem like he was with Hawkmoth. He was helpful... And he actually got Chloé to apologize?”  She was still bewildered about that. It wasn’t the best apology ever, but she still actually did it.

“The peacock wields the power of emotion, Peon Lilas will be able to sense emotion. He can very easily use that information to manipulate others into doing things for him. Even something as simple as an apology.”

She frowned, considering, “I think I understand.”

“Be careful, the peacock is not to be underestimated. Make sure you and Féline Sombre are prepared for what he might do next."

She nodded firmly. "I will be.”

-

Gabriel Agreste stared at the paused frame from the newscast on his newest enemy. Emile's painting ajar and missing a vital item. "Natalie... Where is the surveillance footage for this room?"

She silently pulled up the footage, scrolling through to find an umbrella blocking their view of their thief.

Gabriel growled under his breath and stood up. "Time to catch a runaway bird, it seems. See what you can find from the rest of the cameras in and out of the building. If there's anything or anyone out of place, you tell me immediately."

"What will you do sir?" Natalie asked, already scanning through footage on her tablet.

"Someone found and stole the peacock miraculous from right under our noses. I need to find a way to protect my identity and a lure for our heroic peafoul.”

#gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ml #peacock!adrien #black cat!sabrina #Chloé Bourgeois #akuma oc #ml fanfiction #fanart's fanfic #Peon Lilas AU #Duusu #Up next: me drawing them lolol

[ketamineharry]

Hush Little Baby ~ Harry Lewis  Requested: Yes ~ Hello, idk if you’re doing requests rn but your writing is honestly amazing!! Could you do a Harry imagine where he and reader have been together forever and reader gets accidentally pregnant and it’s just baso the journey if ygm? Like telling him, his friends family fans and then baby being born kinda like a time line typa thing ? If not dw I love you so much !!!! And ~ Please could you write a Harry imagine where he has a daughter Tags: Fluff Word Count: 1.5k

It had been a full hour. A full hour of babysitting Rex Minter, Simon and Talia’s first-born child. They had wanted a date night and it was Harry’s turn to look after the little one. Yet, the whole time you had felt a sickness in the pits of your stomach, you were absolutely sure it would fade when you had eaten something. Here you were, a full large domino's pizza down, and the sickness had not faded. Going against your better judgement, you left Harry with the toddler and made your way to the bathroom.

You were acutely aware of the fact that Simon and Talia were planning on having another little one, so you knew that they would be well stocked on at home pregnancy kits. You carefully took one out of the glass bathroom cabinet, and walked over to the toilet. Deep down, you were hoping that you were wrong. That you were not pregnant. You knew for a fact that you were not ready for a baby and if you were completely honest, you knew that Harry wasn’t either. He was a brilliant uncle and loved having the boys’ children around, babysitting for them so they could have date nights, but he was always able to give them back at the end of a long night. You weren’t so sure how he would feel about not being able to do that. Not having the freedom to do what he wanted anymore, because he had to put this tiny life first. It just didn’t seem like the Harry you knew and loved.

The alarm of your phone pulled you out of the deep thought that you had found yourself in. In no world did you think that having a quiet night in babysitting for some friends would lead you into something so life changing. You carefully picked up the little stick from in front of you, taking a deep inhale of breath. Two lines. Positive. Fuck. As you cleared away the rubbish of the box, you slipped the pregnancy test into your pocket.

As you made your way back to Harry and Rex, all you could hear were joyous screams. Harry really was the fun uncle he had promised to be in a Sidemen Reacts video, many moons ago.

“Y/N!” Rex beamed as he ran up to you. “Uncle Harry was saying that I could have a chocolate for pudding. Usually mummy and daddy say no, and I have to have yogurt or a piece of fruit.”

“Oh that’s great buddy!” You reply, trying to force enthusiasm through the nerves and worry. Although you had no confidence in the fact that you were very successful in that. Harry sent you a glance that confirmed your thoughts. He hadn’t bought it for a second.

As you took Rex’s tiny hand in yours, and made your way to the kitchen, you slipped the pregnancy test to Harry, hoping beyond hope that his reaction was a good one. ‘We need to talk later’ he mouthed, increasing your anxiety tenfold.

-

The ‘talk’ Harry had referenced that night, didn’t amount to the negative that you had convinced yourself it would. You had agreed to keep the baby. Surprisingly, Harry was all for keeping the little one. He hadn’t expressed to you how much he had wanted a child, because he didn’t want to pressure you into anything. The fact that it had happened was such an unexpected surprise. A good surprise though!

You had been to a few scans together, watching your belly swell and get bigger as the months progressed. When it came to finding out the gender though, you chose not to find out. So, you had taken to calling the baby ‘Peanut’. Telling the other boys was an experience to say the very least. These were the men that had watched Harry grow up, from a reserved teenager to the extroverted man he had become. You had both agreed on telling them all at the same time.

The plan had been to get the children that had already been born into mini Sidemen FC t-shirts, starting with the oldest and ending with the youngest, your bump. Which would be painted black, with the number five as your little one would be the fifth addition to the Sidemen extended family. As it stood, the line was as follows: Ethan’s twins Oscar and Olivia who he shared with his wife Kayleigh, JJ’s son Morphius who he shared with his fiance Bella and little Rex. Nervously you went and stood next to Rex. Thankfully, with baggy clothes you had managed to hide the fact that you were pregnant. You took a hold of Rex’s hand, more for your own comfort than anything else. As if the reactions of your friends were wrapped up in the little hand of a toddler.

Slowly, you lifted your jumper up to reveal the paint that was on your stomach. Showing the number five that was painted on top of it. Suddenly, there was an eruption of cheers. The girls became overly emotional, which was expected. They had just found out that one of their best friends was carrying a new member of their extended family. The boys crowded around Harry, patting him on the shoulder and taking him in for hugs. The love being experienced in the room was tangible and you just knew that no matter what happened, your child would be growing up in such a loving environment.

Telling each of your respective families had been a totally different kettle of fish, however. This is where most of the nerves were mounting from for you. Your parents had become parents at a very young age, and had made a lot of mistakes, you were terrified of having history repeated. Having a baby in your early 20s, wasn’t the plan. You felt like you needed to learn more about yourself first, and one of your deepest fears was to have this confirmed by your own parents. Instead, the reaction that you received was nothing but positive. Your dad had warned Harry that he couldn’t drink as much beer, whilst your mum had warned you about the severe lack of sleep you were about to get. Overall though, they were beyond excited to have their family expanding. Harry’s parents had cried when you revealed the news to them. His sister, Rosie had got Peanut a little stuffed giraffe which she aptly named Gina.

-

Setting up the nursery was probably the most enjoyable part of the ordeal. Partly because you loved unleashing your creative side; and partly because decorating the nursery came at the latest point of your pregnancy. You had opted for a pale yellow paint for three of the walls, opting for a feature wall which was decorated in a safari print wallpaper.

You were helping Harry with the final touches of the room, you placed Gina giraffe in the corner of the cot, next to the pillow so that your baby always had comfort. Thinking about it, you were sure that you had a ragdoll from when you were a baby at your parents house. It’s funny how it’s the little things that you remember in the biggest moments.

As you turned around to admire your handy work, you felt an immense pressure, causing you to grip onto the cot and double over. You had never experienced anything like this before and you were pretty sure you knew what it was. Your baby was arriving and it was arriving fast.

“Harry,” You screamed, trying your best to stay calm as you knew this was a pivotal moment for the both of you. He was definitely as nervous as you, as he didn’t understand the mood changes, or the pain that you felt. Despite having attended every pregnancy class and read upteen pregnancy books. He had put a lot of opportunities that had presented themself to him on hold for the sake of you and your child as he wanted to be as supportive as possible. Which a meer nine months ago, you would have never imagined Harry doing.

You heard pounding up the stairs, Harry’s usual cheery disposition changing as soon as he saw the immense panic that had taken over your face. “I’ll grab the pregnancy bag, make your way to the car, it's already unlocked.” He informed me, as he grabbed the pregnancy bag from the other side of the room, helping me down the stairs as it had become near impossible to do the simplest of tasks, now that I was carrying our baby.

---

Labour was without a doubt the most painful thing you had ever experienced. It was a quick birth, having arrived at the hospital at seven, and giving birth to your daughter at exactly fifteen minutes past seven. Harry had fallen asleep in the chair in the corner of your room.

Your daughter, however, was screaming blue murder. Despite this, Harry still wouldn’t wake. So, with all your might, you scooped your little one into your arms. “Hush little baby, don’t you cry. We swear that we’ll never leave your side and if we do, remember this love like ours never dies.” You whisper, rocking her into a soft slumber as you placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. Your little family was already complete.

#harry lewis #harry lewis imagine #w2s imagine #w2s x reader #w2s #harry lewis x reader #'sidemen imagine #sidemen x reader

[serendipitous-posts]

Sacrifice you for nothing

Tubbo and Ranboo get a history lesson

title from Ain’t No Crying by Derivakat

"Damn" Tubbo says, staring up at the ceiling. "That chandelier really is fighting you every step of the way, huh?"

"And it's winning" Ranboo adds.

Foolish, hanging from the ceiling as he fixes the corner piece, glares down at him. "It is not winning" he hisses "I won't let it win." That declaration would have been a lot more solid had he not squeaked as the chandelier rocked dangerously.

If that fell and broke he would actually lose it.

Tubbo has no mercy for him. "You must hate that chandelier right now" he mocks "must be your least favourite thing in the world."

 "Nah" Foolish grips a small chunk of gold carefully in his teeth to avoid breaking it "that would be cults" he mumbles. There's a brief bit of quiet below and then;

 "Oh yeah, I heard that the Eggpire wrecked your buildings or something."

 Chandelier finally fixed (for now) Foolish drops to the floor, a fall that would have shattered anyone elses ankles but just leaves him slightly winded. "Nah" he says "I've run into cults before; one's way worse than this one."

 "Worse?!" Ranboo exclaims "worse than the parasitic chicken embryo?!"

 "Far worse" Foolish confirms body language completely relaxed despite such a dark topic

 (but outside the seas begin to froth and bubbles, rapids forming and pushing and pulling, crashing against teeth sharp rocks and punching away at the cliffs surrounding it.)

 "they seem to keep popping up wherever I go. I-

 (hate them hates them with everything he is and everything he is supposed to be divine blood in his body but he can't save them can't protect everyone can't heal everything some things can't be reversed)

 "really don't like them. They suck."

(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry, I can take your broken pieces and stitch them back, back together and it won't be the same but it will be similar and that is all I can give you)

 (the totem in Ranboo's back pocket begins to burn)

 "I'll say" Tubbo agrees, then, with childlike curiosity and teenage macabre "which one would would you say is the worst?"

  Foolish falls still.

(the sea falls still. the totems stop burning.)

 (it is somehow worse)

 "Probably the one made for me" he says at last.

 The story goes like this; there's a village that prays to him daily. It's not that uncommon really; he's the God of the Ocean and the Undead. People pray to him for safe passage on the seas or to help them find a totem.

 But the people in this village are- to put it bluntly- really fucking annoying.

 It's not uncommon for people without totems to pray to him for hours on end, begging him to revive their loved ones, but these guys have turned it into an art form, any and all hours of the day, banging around in his head.

 And when words don't work, they turn to physical ways to show their devotion to their God. 

 Silly little mortals, trying to gain his favour with dead animals and trinkets, trying to gain his favour. He already gave them a way to cheat death, all they have to do is grab a totem. Why do they want another?

 They have all they need to survive. He painstakingly carved those totems. He will not give too much of himself.

 (lord foolish please my mother is gone i want her back lord foolish you can bring my husband back lord foolish fix this fix her i know you can)

 So he ignores the animal sacrifices and the pretty trinkets offered to him in exchange for reviving a daughter, a son, a wife, a husband. He cannot revive the long dead, he learned that a long time ago.

 The only real bearable one in the village is the child, and he doesn't even think the child knows what he is the God of, really, which is odd considering the inordinate amount of statues in the town. Whenever the child prays to Foolish, it's never about a dead loved one or the sea, it's always about what the child did that day. Foolish feels more like a diary than a God in those moments.

 And at least that's interesting

 (mister foolish i learned how to spell flower the other day f-l-o-u-u-e-r mister foolish i saw a dead cat on the side of the road the other day)

 (mister foolish are you ever lonely)

 The humans grow more and more frustrated with his complete and utter radio silence, and while he's out their festivals to him grow more and more complex, the animals growing bigger, rarer, more impressive.

 (i offer you this ender dragon egg this elytra this nether star this emerald ore this music disc)

 He's not gonna lie; the person who built that beautiful cottage had him for a solid minute.

 But he's not really paying attention to any of that; he's not the only God to have festivals and sacrifices in his name. Definitely not gonna be the last.

 (what do we have to do to bring back our loved ones?)

 He's just happy to build.

 Bargaining is a stage of grief, but so is acceptance, and they must learn to accept this.

 (except their not accepting it, the town is just growing angrier, more desperate, going bigger and bigger, hunting animals around them to extinction.)

 The first time they kill a human, he's pretty sure it's an accident. An old man, long past his time, probably just died from shock or disease.

 They put his body on the altar and offer him up to him, not to revive but as a sacrifice. He arrives, cloaked in illusions as thick as the fog around the town. He still sees Death though, watching sedately from where she's sitting on the wall, her angel beside her.

 They're gone in the next moment.

 The town never buries the old man, keeps him on the altar, and, after three days, Foolish takes him, takes him far away to an old field and buries him there.

 (the leader of the town finds the missing body and smiles. their god has accepted their gift)

 He hopes it's a one time thing

 (because what did they do to that man how could they these humans these ants small and painfully easy to kill but flocking together working together how could they turn on one of their own)

 (because what would he do then?)

 (after the man disappears from the altar, the child prays to him again, telling him the man's name, and how he once stopped the child from getting a rash from poisonous flowers. he liked violets the child tells him)

 (maybe the child really does know what he's the god of. maybe the child's just lonely.)

 He doesn't know what exactly triggered it. Maybe they saw the child trying to make conversation with a God instead of praying to one. Maybe the child, in the way all children are, said something controversial, maybe about the man who was left on the altar to rot.

 Maybe, maybe, maybe.

 He isn't there when the child is dragged out onto the streets, and dumped at the feet of the altar in front of the whole town, trembling and shaking. And the child is a child but is no fool, has seen the sacrifices has seen what has happened, and does what any scared child will do-try to run.

 And at the same time the child tried to back away, the leader swung his sword, and the whole town watched as the child screamed, eyes bloodied and slashed from the blade. 

 (he had been aiming for the neck)

 (not a fighter, that leader)

 "A life for a life!" The leader exclaimed and swung again.

 (the child collapsed on the floor and the crowd pressed in, eager to watch as they choked and gagged on the blood spilling out of their torn open throat, arms scrabbling into the ground like a beetle like a cockroach like an ant whose colony had turned on it)

 And- and then-

 And at the same time the child tried to back away and the leader swung his sword, the child had had one last panicked, desperate thought.

 (mister foolish, they're gonna kill me)

 And at the same time-

 And at the same time the leader slit the child's throat, a golden clawed hand grabbed him by his.

 "So yeah" Foolish says. "Cults are, like, the worst."

 Ranboo and Tubbo continue to stare at him. "Uh" Ranboo says, then promptly stops talking.

 "Did you . . kill them?" 

 He nods, bouncing on his feet a little. "Yeah" he smiles "good times."

 The two teenagers both look like they don't know what to do with that.

 "Well, at least they deserved it" Tubbo offers up attentively, and Ranboo nods

 "Can't believe they executed a child. Nobody deserves to die like that" Ranboo mutters and Tubbo winces beside him.

 "Y-yeah" Tubbo agrees nervously, twining his hands together "that poor kid. Hope it was peaceful."

 Foolish blinks at them. "Wait, what?" Then he replays their entire conversation and laughs.

 "Laughing at a kid's death" Ranboo notes, before turning to Tubbo "why are we letting him near Michael again."

 "No, no" Foolish waves his hands "you misunderstood me; the child didn't die."

 "You guys do remember I'm the God of Undying, right?" He raises an eyebrow at them both. "I healed the kid's neck wound right up." Ranboo just blinks at him in that slightly unsettling way that only an enderman can do.

 "I thought you didn't revive people personally."

 Foolish glances outside, past the both of them. "This was different" he says "this was-"

 (my fault my fault i turned a blind eye i could have stopped this sooner you choked and gagged and cried out for anyone to save you but in the end the motivation for your murder had to step in.)

 "-an exception."

 "Good for you!" Tubbo cheers, shooting his hands in the air vehemently "the whole stinking town is gone and you and the child lived!"

 Foolish makes a noise in the back of his throat. "Except the other towns had heard about the towns rituals. And it began to spread."

 Tubbo's hands drop. "Oh."

 "Yeah" he agrees "oh. But the worst part was the damage done to the child."

 "Let me guess" Ranboo says, dry as Egypt. "Traumatised?"

 "To put it mildly."

 (the child had turned blind eyes towards him, and when he had reached out to grasp the pudgy hand it had recoiled, the small body curling up away from him and he had burned)

 (the child hadn't seen or felt the tsunami that destroyed the entire town. but the screams- they had ears)

 "But uh" he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot "not just that. I'm the God of Undying, so I can heal other's mortal injuries."

 A long pause.

 "Their mortal injuries" he repeats.

 "Oh!" Tubbo jerks back "oh God! The child's eyes-"

 "I healed them" he says, then winces "tried to heal them" he corrects. Better. "But uh, because they weren't fatal they weren't exactly, uh, restored."

 (the mirror is broken and the cracks will show even when it's put back together and you'll never see the same way again my fault my fault i'm sorry i'm so so so sorry)

(this is all i can give you i am so sorry only child lonely child i cant take all you pain away but i promise you here and now you will be lonely no more)

"Damn." The closest Ranboo will ever get to a swear.

 "It gets worse" Foolish chirps "the other towns found out that a child had been blessed by the Totem God himself. Were very interested in what exactly this child could do."

 A long pause.

 Then. "Cults" Ranboo says faintly.

 "Cults" Foolish agrees cheerfully, thinking of a child screaming in agony with bloodstained eyes and a gashed throat as others looked on, indifferent.

 Cults Foolish thinks grimly as that same child is dragged up to be executed by the Eggpire.

#dream smp #c!tubbo #tubbo #ranboo #c!ranboo #foolish gamers #c!foolish #mumza #philza #like #it's not explicitly said but it's implied #eggpire #eret #c!eret #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dream smp fic

[everlarkficexchange]

That’s Just Tachy

Written by: @everybirdfellsilent

Prompt 153: Best friends!Everlark who have always been in love with one another. Katniss is in a pretty serious accident, of course Peeta visits her every single day. He notices that every time he enters the room her heart monitor beeps due to elevated heart rate. He notices and finally mentions to a mutual friend (Madge? Finnick?) how it’s sweet that she gets excited to see her friends, said friend rolls eyes and is like uh yeah ok “friend”. Peeta’s all what? Cue suspicion so next time he visits her he takes it a step further and gives little touches (brushes her hair back, strokes her cheek, grazes her arm? LET IT BURN) to see what happens. Sure enough her HR skyrockets. Tell us all the sweet and suspenseful details :))) [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone] (@peetamewllark)

I do not own The Hunger Games or it’s characters. All credit where credit is due.

Thank you to @xteenwolfwritingsx, @smartalexy, and @papofglencoe for looking this over for me!

Warnings: Some language. (I think?) Mostly just fluff, though. (Rated K-Teen.)

Word count: 6,712

A/N: This didn’t turn out quite how I wanted, but it is what it is. 😆 It was a 2k document I sat down to flush out and suddenly it was over 6k words, so I figured it was time. I like to write where you just jump right in kind of like a TV show, but that didn’t really work for this prompt, and was a sort of learning curve for me. But I still hope you all like it! This was fun to write, and I have loved this prompt from the beginning. (Especially the “LET IT BURN”. Haha! So here are my two lovesick idiots who don’t know it until it’s right in front of their face. I have missed writing for them.)

Xxx

“You guys coming?” Jo called from up at the front of the group as they made their way across the quad. 

Glancing back over her shoulder, Johanna stopped, effectively stopping Gale and Finnick as well, and they all stared at the two stragglers of the group who were locked in some kind of glare off. 

“I don’t trust him,” Katniss stated, her eyes never wavering from his. 

“Me?!” Peeta cried in disbelief. “You’re the one with impeccable aim and on the archery team, why in the world am I the bigger threat here?”

“Because you started it.”

Gale huffed. “Started what?”

“Poking me in the sides at the most inopportune moments all day.”

Gale sighed heavily. “Catnip….”

Her head snapped his way, the glare now on him, she missed the two thumbs up Peeta sent Gale from behind her in thanks. “You know I hate that nickna-”

The rest of her sentence stopped abruptly as she felt two strong and familiar hands start to play her sides like a piano, and it was a wonder she avoided letting out a screech. Batting the hands away with her own, using the thin folder in her hand to swat at them as they tried to come near again, she couldn’t help the smile that crawled across her face, muttering nonsense at the lighthearted taunts Peeta sent her way. 

Finnick rolled his eyes, smiling almost imperceptibly. “Come on, let the lovebirds be.”

As the three up ahead continued on, Peeta and Katniss called a truce, both breathing heavily, an errant chuckle here and there the only noise as they caught their breath. 

“So are you meeting up with Haymitch before work today?” Peeta asked, staring at the ground as they began to follow their friends. 

“Yup,” Katniss nodded, looking at the ground herself, but glancing over at Peeta every now and then. Each time made her heart race just a little bit more, and she wasn’t quite sure how that made her feel. “I need to talk to him about enrolling in one more course, or how to get some extra hours somehow.”

“Well, we’ll meet up when you’re off work later, then, and you can tell me how it went.” He looked up and right at her. “And, you know, if Haymitch doesn’t have any ideas, I can always try and talk to our professors and see where that gets us.” His voice was smooth and deep, and he playfully bumped shoulders with her as they continued to walk. 

She couldn’t help but blush at the implication, knowing Peeta could sell anything to anyone with the way he spoke. “I’ll think about it,” she managed to get out. “But I have to work late tonight, so I’ll just text you when I get off, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”

“Sure,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief knowing he wouldn’t be poking her for the foreseeable future, making him smirk. “How late?”

“I’m not sure exactly. They just said some may need to stay late.” She shrugged, clutching her folder close to her chest. “But not too late, I don’t think. Definitely before midnight.”

“I’ll see you at midnight, then.”

Xxx

She’d been in an accident. An awful, terrible accident. 

There were more details, he was sure, but his mind tuned out of any further conversation past that. Images flashed in his mind, everything from horrendous to benign, of the condition she was in, or would be in. Did she need surgery? Did she need a kidney? A really big bandaid?

All he knew was that he’d be there for her. They all would. Because that’s what friends do. They protect each other, it’s just what they do.

Xxx

They went in as a group, right before visiting hours were over that same day. 

He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, but he still had a breath catch in his chest at the sight of her. 

Gale and Johanna were teary eyed as they walked around to the opposite side of the bed, Gale gently taking Katniss’ hand in his where it lay beside her on the bed, and Jo hanging back behind him, almost as if to have a barrier between her and the situation. 

Finnick stood beside Peeta on the opposite side, up by her head, and rested his hand beside her head, supporting his weight. Normally one for a playful nudge or flirtatious tuck of hair behind one’s ear, his lack of physical touch and in fact distance between his hand and her spoke volumes. “Hey, Katniss,” he said softly. The hitch in his voice not missed by anyone in the room, or the shuddering breath he took in after. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and while still somewhat glassy from the pain medicine pumping through her system, she let out a tentative smile, and gently squeezed Gale’s hand back. “Hey,” voice scratchy from lack of use. “What-” she coughed a rattling cough, making everybody in the room cringe. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” Finnick’s voice came out much stronger than before, relief painting his tone. “No one else was hurt, they think you just fell asleep at the wheel coming home from work.”

Her pulse kicked up just slightly at the info, but her typical poker face was in full swing. 

“Don’t worry, your job is giving you paid leave until you are totally recovered. You shouldn’t have been working that late, anyway.”

Her eyes flicked over to Peeta as he spoke, her heart monitor seeming to glitch as it registered a missed beat. 

“They just don’t want a lawsuit,” Johanna muttered, causing Katniss to laugh, which turned into a major coughing fit. 

A nurse poked her head in, pushing some buttons on machines that started to let off incessant beeping, and letting them know visiting hours were over. 

They all filed from the room, including the nurse, but Peeta stayed behind. Reaching out to take her hand in his left, he gave it a squeeze, and smiled. “I’ll be back by tomorrow. We’ll go over the assignments coming up.” 

Her heart monitor started an intermittent beeping again, a light flashing at the top. “Shhhhhh, it’s okay.” He reached up to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, and the monitor started going crazy, the nurse coming in, lightly scolding him and ushering him from the room. Turning off all the beeping, the only sound was Katniss’ shallow breathing and rapid heart rate. 

One last squeeze to her hand, and he was out the door. He faintly heard the nurse say, “Calm down, honey, your boyfriend can come back by tomorrow.”

Then the monitors started going off again. 

Xxx

True to his word, the next day Peeta showed up as soon as his last class was over, giving him just a few hours with her, as opposed to every other day when his schedule allowed most of the afternoon, if she’d let him stay. 

He smiled at the thought. She did love her time alone. But however long she’d let him stay, he would.

Rounding the corner into her room, he saw Haymitch on the other side of the bed with his hand on her shoulder, grinning down at her, and Katniss sitting more upright than the night before scowling up at him.

Following Haymitch’s glance up, she met Peeta’s eyes, and almost instantly startled away to look at the floor when her heart monitor started beeping like the night before. 

Looking at it with knit eyebrows and a slight smirk, he made his way into the room. “So you got defective machines, huh?”

Pushing a button on the rail of the bed to make the head go up slightly, she sat a little further up, muttering, “Something like that….”

Haymitch snickered, quickly coughing to cover it up, moving to the recliner in the corner of the room, observing them over the top of a magazine he grabbed from atop a nearby table. 

At some point during the exchange, a nurse must have come in and turned off the alert, though Peeta still noticed the rapid beeping of her pulse. 

Holding up the assignments, giving them a little jiggle and raising an eyebrow in question, Peeta set them down on the little rolling table over her on the bed when she gave him a little nod.

Reaching out to touch a few pages absently, she finally muttered in a scratchy voice, “You came back.”

It took a moment before Peeta realized she was talking to him, but he quickly shook his head and said, “I said I would.”

They stared at each other for a moment before the monitor started beeping again, Katniss sighing and reaching out to push a button and silence it. Looking back to Peeta, she held his gaze before darting it all over the room, looking anywhere but him. “They said I could do that.”

Haymitch snorted from behind the magazine, earning daggers of a glare from her. 

“Thanks for coming by, Haymitch. You really didn’t need to.” Her tone was sincere in her thanks, but also very clear in her sarcasm. 

“Nonsense, sweetheart!” He lowered the magazine to his lap, which made a slapping sound against his thighs. Feet propped up on the footrest of the recliner, legs crossed at the ankles, he just smiled. “I’m your advisor, and I’m here to advise in any way I can.” He glanced at Peeta. “On whoever I can.”

He snickered, blocking the tissue box she threw at him with his arm, before pulling the magazine back up to read. 

Chuckling softly, Peeta pulled up a nearby chair to sit next to Katniss. “Luckily, we have all the same classes, except for one, which Finnick will bring by. He gets off before me, so he said he would swing by on his way home.”

Katniss just nodded, staring at the pile of papers on the little table. 

The nurse came in with a little cup of pills. “Time for your medicine!” She glanced at Peeta and smiled. “See? I told you your boyfriend could come back!”

Katniss started choking on the water she had used to take the pills, spluttering as Haymitch guffawed in the corner. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she choked out, taking another quick sip as the nurse pushed the button to silence the alert to her elevated pulse yet again, not even sparing it a glance, taking the empty cup when Katniss was done with a smirk. 

The nurse looked at Peeta with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup, just friends,” he clarified, and wasn’t really sure if he liked the way that made him feel.

“She just really loves her friends. Close knit. Tight bond,” Haymitch said emphatically to the nurse. 

She smiled at him. “I see.”

Xxx

The next day Peeta sat next to Finnick in one of their shared classes, in the back row of the stadium like seating. Finnick leaned back in his chair, hands knit behind his head like he was laying out in the sun lounging on a pool float somewhere.

After a few moments Finnick turned his head just slightly toward Peeta on his right, his eyes still on the ceiling. “So what you’re telling me, is her pulse was elevated the whole time you were there?”

“Yeah,” Peeta said, tossing his hands up a little in exasperation and letting them lightly slap back down on to the desktop. “I was concerned at first, but then,” he smiled, looking down to the desktop for a moment, playing with his pencil, then looking forward again. “Then I realized it was whenever we talked, specifically, not Haymitch or the nurse, and I put it together. She’s just really glad to see her friends, I think. I mean, I don’t blame her, that place is all greys and whites and blah.”

When Finnick didn’t respond, Peeta looked to his left to find Finnick still splayed back, but looking right at him. “Just ‘blah’?” He stared blankly at Peeta. “You think she’s happy - so happy it sets off alarms - that her friends are bringing a dash of color into her world?”

“….Yeah?” Peeta was hesitant to answer, shrugging his shoulders as he responded. 

Rolling his eyes, Finnick rolled his head back toward the ceiling with the movement, scoffing and letting out a small chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Okay, ‘friend’.”

“What-” Peeta huffed, looking for the right words, “What are you- What do you even mean, Finnick?”

Finnick shrugged with a smirk, everyone quieting down when the teacher walked in. Looking to his friends one more time, Finnick spoke in a hushed tone as the teacher began the lecture. “You’re a great friend, Peeta.”

They both looked forward toward the lecture happening in front of them, but Peeta wasn’t absorbing anything, his mind going a million miles a minute trying to figure out what Finnick meant. 

He had his suspicions, but, no…. Surely not. Finnick was crazy.

Xxx

He had waited until the end of the visit to test Finnick’s theory. 

As he went over the notes he had taken, reading them aloud to Katniss while she sat with the bed a little straighter up than the day before, her head back and eyes closed while she listened, he kept looking at her. Wondered what was going on in her head. Silently daring her to open her eyes and meet his. 

Shaking his head as Finnick’s voice echoed in his head, he went back to staring at the paper as he read, not even looking up.

The medicine she was on for pain made everything blurry, so he had volunteered to read to her. But as he went on, he found himself unconsciously speaking to the rhythm of her heart monitor, her pulse holding steady for the time being. And he couldn’t help the little grin that came across his face.

“And that’s it,” he said, closing his notebook and looking up to see Katniss blinking her eyes open, letting them readjust to the hospital room’s bright lights. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a little stronger than the day before. 

Reaching out like the day she came in here, he gently took her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. “Don’t mention it.”

He glanced to the monitor that registered what looked to be a missed beat or two, but her pulse stayed fairly even, going slightly higher, but not enough to set off any alarm bells - on the machine or in his head.

The nurse came by and poked her head in the door, announcing that visiting hours were almost over, then came all the way in to the other side of the bed. 

Katniss looked at the needle in her hand with disgust. “I hate this medicine,” she said offhandedly. “It is supposed to help me sleep, but it just gives me nightmares.” Looking at Peeta as the nurse injected the medicine into her IV, her pulse started to quicken. 

Absentmindedly packing up his stuff, Peeta looked to the monitor when it finally started beeping and flashing. Swinging his backpack onto his shoulder, he noticed a particularly high spike, setting off new alarms he hadn’t heard before, and he looked to Katniss worriedly. 

As the nurse came around the foot of the bed to turn off the machines, fiddling with them after the blaring stopped, Katniss spoke quietly, “Peeta. Stay with me?”

It was a question, not a statement or demand, and he so wanted to give in and ease her mind as she fell asleep, but visiting hours were over. 

Katniss looked like she was starting to drift off to sleep, reaching for him blindly with the hand he had held moments before. 

The nurse looked between them, smiled and winked at Peeta as she made her way out of the room. “I’ll come check on her in a few hours. You know, she is allowed one person to stay with her.”

Setting his backpack on the ground, Peeta went to the hand still outstretched for him, and held it tight. 

“Peeta?” Her voice was small and barely awake.

“Yeah. I’m here. Go back to sleep.” He went to go over to the recliner in the corner, but her hand clutched his with a strength he didn’t think had returned to her yet, keeping him beside her. 

“Stay with me.”

This time it wasn’t a question but a statement, a demand, and it made him smile. Glancing to the monitor again, he saw her heart rate settle back down as the chair he had moved over earlier scraped against the floor as he pulled it closer to her bedside, still clutching her hand tightly in his own.

“Always,” he said matter of factly, as if any other answer were wrong. 

Resting his chin on his hand, giving hers one last squeeze, he stared at her and smiled softly. He found himself yawning and drifting off to sleep soon, preparing for the nightmares, and dreading the moment he would finally have to let go.

Xxx

Peeta woke to sunlight hitting his eyes, blinking them open only to squint and lift up his left arm to block the rays slipping through the blinds. Looking toward Katniss, he saw her staring at him, already wide awake, and she even smiled a little bit. 

“Good morning,” she said, her voice leaps and bounds better than previous days. 

“Morning,” Peeta mumbled, sitting up from where his head still rested on his hand, groaning at his stiff back stretching for the first time in hours, and swiping at his face, hoping he hadn’t drooled in his sleep. His hand froze over his eye as he blearily gave it a rub when he heard a giggle.

Eyes snapping to Katniss, he saw her smiling broadly and uninhibited. “You really aren’t a morning person, are you?” she asked.

Yawning, Peeta spoke through the stretch. “You’re really a morning person, aren’t you?”

She threw her head back and laughed the first real laugh he had heard in days. Leaving her head back against the bed she sighed. “No,” she said honestly, and they both chuckled. “No, I’m really not, but that was the first night of sleep I have had since being here, and I guess I needed it, so thank you.”

Reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, Peeta let his hand linger, and heard the monitor spike, making him smile. “I can tell. Your hair is crazy.” 

She scowled at him but it melted into a chuckle and pink cheeks.

Letting his hand fall slightly, down to her cheeks, he traced the back of his finger over her blush. “You’re getting your color back. That’s good.”

She reached up to grab his wrist gently, groaning what sounded an embarrassed reply. 

“Hang on,” he mumbled, and she lightly held on to his wrist as he moved down to trace her lips with his thumb.

Her breath hitched and the monitor beeped faster again. 

Grinning impishly, he swiped his thumb on the side of her mouth as if wiping something off, and said softly, “You drool.”

She shoved his hand away, once again trying to scowl but ended up snickering along with him as he jokingly wiped his hand on his jeans, making a ridiculous face before chuckling himself.

Xxx

Since it was a Saturday, Peeta took his time, lingering at her bedside, and lounging in the chair he had slept in, despite Katniss telling him repeatedly to go sit in the recliner in the corner, so he would be more comfortable. 

Instead of comfort, he took the chance to sit by her and steal a glance every now and then, since he no longer got to do it in class. He always felt a sense of calm when looking at her, much like last night, when Katniss’ heart rate had calmed down when he agreed to stay. Something just felt right. 

They brought her a breakfast tray, if it could even be called that. Peeta stared at the tray just like it that sat in his lap, thanking the nurse who had given it to him with a wink and a smirk, and trying to decide what exactly was on the tray that they were trying to pass off as “food”. 

Standing up after the nurse left, he walked his tray over to the nearby counter, turning to see Katniss glaring at him. 

“If I have to eat this, you have to eat this,” she hissed, gesturing to the food then him with her fork. 

Peeta gulped. “How about we share?”

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him briefly, before mumbling a “fine”, looking back to the food and picking at the imposter waffles. 

The TV was playing softly in the background, the only other noise aside from Katniss’ incessant fidgeting. 

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked after what felt like the millionth time, and tried to swallow the “waffles” that didn’t seem to want to be eaten as much as he didn’t want to eat them.

Katniss grimaced. “Yeah, it’s just,” she fidgeted again. “This is the most uncomfortable bed, and I can’t find a way to help it anymore. They changed my medication to something a little less potent, so now I’m feeling all the aches and pains and itches and everything glorious.”

Peeta chuckled. “Well, how about we get up and walk around the hallways a little bit, and after that I can give you a little massage?” He had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at her wide eyes. He didn’t need a machine to know her pulse was elevated, her cheeks gave that away as they tinged pink. Ever since Finnick had made his “observation” the day before, he’d found himself being much bolder than he had ever been before. “I mean, it can’t be too much different than kneading bread….”

Katniss simultaneously choked and chuckled at the same time. “The medicine I’m due for in a few minutes makes me really dizzy, and I’d have to use the walker, and-”

“And I’ll help you,” Peeta interrupted, earning him a scowl. “I’ll walk right beside you in case you need help, and catch you if you start to fall.”

“And if I can’t walk the whole time you’ll go find me a wheelchair at the nurses station, right?” Katniss rolled her eyes with a little scoff, but her cheeks still bloomed in a bright blush. 

“No, I’ll just carry you if it comes to that.”

“Oh.” Was all Katniss could muster, a short decisive nod in confirmation as she sat the bed up all the way, lowering her propped up feet and pushing away the tray of “food”. “Could I- I mean, Can you-” she stuttered out, timidly reaching her hand out in a request for help up.

Peeta scrambled to his feet, immediately offering his hand to help her sit totally upright, easing her legs over the side of the bed and lowered the rail on the side to help her even more. 

She turned toward the edge of the bed, her feet dangling off the edge in the yellow socks with grippy bottoms they kept replacing every day, and flitted her eyes over to the walker in the corner, Peeta following her gaze and immediately reaching over with his long reach to grab it, placing it in front of her. 

“Can I have my robe, please?” she asked in a small voice, pointing to where it hung on the bathroom door. “These hospital gowns are drafty in all the wrong places.” She pulled a hand down her face, sighing at the words that kept coming out of her mouth. “Sorry, too much information.”

Peeta smiled as he handed her the robe. “No, I get it. I’ve been in here once or twice, remember?”

She smiled sadly. “Yeah, I remember.”

As Peeta helped her into the robe, he also smiled sadly. Staring at the floor, memories he’d rather forget started flashing through his mind. He must have spaced out, or maybe he clutched her shoulders just a little too tightly, but the next thing he really registered was Katniss holding his face in her hands, searching his face frantically. 

“Stay with me,” she echoed her words from last night, once again not a question, but a matter of fact. 

Locking his eyes on hers, he found the fog clearing. Swallowing thickly, he nodded, letting his gaze dart around the room. “Thanks,” he finally muttered, smiling sadly one last time before he cleared his throat and smiled a bit more genuinely. “Now quit procrastinating.” 

Xxx

They made it a few laps around the floor before Katniss was too tired to make one more round. When they passed back by her room, they went in and saw that the food trays had been removed, thankfully, and the bed linens changed. At the foot of the bed sat a new hospital gown, bright yellow and folded neatly, on top of it a matching set of those same yellow socks. 

“Feel up to changing?” Peeta asked her as he helped slip off her robe, carrying it back to the hook on the bathroom door. 

“I guess,” Katniss sighed, her breathing labored. “Makes the most sense to do it before getting back in bed.” 

“Let me know if you need any help,” he said, holding the bathroom door open as she shuffled by, the gown and socks clutched tightly to her chest with one hand, the other holding the back of the hospital gown together as best she could. 

Closing the door all but a sliver, Peeta stood right outside in case she needed help, absently staring at the TV. His mind was far away, though, thinking about all the times he had been the one in here, and she had visited and helped him. He didn’t dwell on the reason he was there, but the fact she had come to help. 

“Peeta?” Her small voice echoing around the small bathroom caught his attention. 

“Yeah?” He cleared his throat.

“I need some help tying this gown.”

Now it was his turn to have his cheeks go pink. Nothing is more awkward than a hospital gown. The door slowly swung open, and her back was revealed to him, her hands clutching the back tightly around her hips, but her back was on full display, making him swallow thickly. 

It was moments like these that he found himself getting lost in an emotion he only ever felt around her, but he never fully understood. If he had to describe it, it was how he pictured love feeling.

Slowly walking into the little room, he stepped up behind her, closer than needed, and noticed she was shaking as he reached for the little ties. 

“Are you cold?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered out, looking at the floor. 

Slowly tying a double knotted bow so it wouldn’t slip open on accident, Peeta accidentally brushed his fingertips on the soft exposed skin of her back, and she instantly stilled. “Is that too tight?” he asked softly. 

“N-no. But can you tie the top one a little looser? I think when I sit down it might be just a little too tight.”

He nodded, reaching up to tie the top strings in just one bow in case she wanted to adjust it, and his skin brushed her clavicle, making her shiver once again. 

Leaning in toward her ear, he spoke in a low voice, “Can you please hold your hair up? I don’t want to get it caught in the strings.” 

The shivering turned into a violent shudder before she nodded, lifting her hair up with her free hand not clutching the lower part of the gown closed, and took deep, steadying breaths.

“Thank you,” she breathed, letting go of her hair as he set his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back flush with his front gently, and placing his chin gently on one shoulder, his cheek right by her ear.

“Don’t mention it,” he said in a quiet tone much like her own. With their bodies so close, he could feel her rapid heartbeat against his own, and they both were above average.

“I’ll let you take care of the lower ties.” He took a few steps back before turning to go back to the room. Her voice so close behind him startled him. 

“I think I will leave those open. I’ll be under the covers anyway, and it makes it a little easier to move and sit in that bed. But I could use your help switching out these socks…. If you don’t mind.” She smiled timidly. “Bending over is still really hard.”

Nodding, he gestured her to the bed and helped her sit on the edge. Pulling off the old pair and putting on the new, he heard her hooking the various little monitors back up as she settled back in. Looking up he saw her plug the pulse monitor back in and immediately the machine started blaring like it had before. Looking up at her with wide eyes, they both glanced at the monitor as the nurse came in and turned it off. 

“Why does that keep happening?” Peeta questioned her. “Isn’t that something bad?”

The nurse smiled kindly at him. “That? Oh, that’s just tachycardia. Elevated heart rate. The machine has certain parameters set for ‘normal’ and sometimes exertion or excitement can make your pulse shoot up to what the parameters deem ‘too high’. It’s completely safe.” 

She leaned into Peeta. “But between you and me, I think it’s just you in general that keeps making hers go off. You have some effect on her, no one else who visits has it going off this much. Someone named Finnick had it going, but she was laughing really hard. Haymitch seems to put her in a bad mood - or annoyed - and that sets it off sometimes. But you, you make it go off the most. I’d be very unhappy about that if she wasn’t looking so much better having you here.” The machine went off again, and the nurse glanced at a mortified looking Katniss before smiling knowingly at Peeta. “Just push this button if it happens again.” Reaching out she silenced the machine once again, winking at Katniss, before promptly leaving the room. 

Katniss and Peeta just stared at one another for a long moment before he clapped his hands together and said, “Now how about that massage?”

He reached out and shut off the machine before it let out too many alerts.

Xxx

If he had thought it through, tying the gown before the massage wasn’t the brightest idea, but he was so glad he had because it was one more excuse to be so close to her. He was surprised she wasn’t swatting him away with how ticklish she tended to be. 

The head of the bed was lowered enough for him to squeeze in behind her, and they finally settled on her sitting between his legs as she hugged a pillow to her front as she slightly bent forward, and laid her head on a pillow on the little rolling table they had locked to sit in front of her. Her head was turned to her right so he could see her profile, and her typical braid going over her shoulder had been done so he could have easier access to her shoulders and neck. 

He wanted to take a moment to just admire her, but he understood the horribleness of a hospital bed, and went to working on her shoulders immediately. Working from the bottom of her shoulder blades up to the top of her neck, he tried to be gentle not entirely sure what might still hurt from the accident, but dug in to the knots he found, earning appreciative groans from her. 

He worked down to her lower back, right above her hips was as much as he could get to, and he made a mental note to ask the nurse for a heating pad next time she came in. Even his baker trained hands couldn’t work that tension out without some help.

“Is the pressure okay?” He kept asking, to which she answered a groggy sounding yes every time. Finally instead of an answer he got a snore in response. Glancing to her face he saw her peacefully asleep, not even a flinch as he found yet another knot near her shoulder blade. He worked on it gently for a few minutes, not seeing her flinch once, but finally decided that was enough for now. 

Someone cleared their throat to his left, and he snapped his head to see Finnick leaning in the doorway, ankles crossed, arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk across his face that was absolutely beaming. 

“Friends,” he said quietly, but with emphasis, snickering, before hanging his head and gently shaking it.

Double knotting the one tie and loosely tying the top one again, Peeta slowly eased out of the bed, taking the pillow Katniss was hugging and adding it to the one that had been behind his back, slowly lowering her back until she was laying on the slight incline of the bed, her snoring not wavering once. He took the pillow her head had been on on the tray and gave it to her to hug like the other one, and she clutched it tight, snuggling into the blankets he pulled back up over her.

Walking past Finnick, Peeta gave him a dirty look before continuing out into the hall, pulling him along by the elbow when Finnick didn’t follow, closing the door all but a crack so he would hear if she woke up or the machines went off. 

Finnick was just smirking.

“Why did you have to say anything the other day?” Peeta hissed. “Everything was fine until then, and now I can’t think about anything else.”

“Could you before? Really?” Finnick prodded. “I mean, sure, you didn’t sit an analyze her heart rate, but can you honestly tell me you didn’t think about her, look at her and get that feeling you can’t really describe but understand, and just know this person is supposed to be in your life?” It was quiet for a minute before Finnick spoke in a softer voice. “I get it, man.” He put a hand on Peeta’s shoulder, despite Peeta’s arms still being firmly crossed. “It’s the same feeling I get-”

“Let me guess, it’s the same feeling you get when you see me?” Peeta’s sarcasm was off the charts. 

Finnick threw his head back and laughed. “Well, yeah, but in a different way. No, man, it’s how I feel when I see Annie.” Peeta’s face softened at the mention of Finnick’s fiancé. “And no matter how long we have been together, that feeling doesn’t change. It gets more comfortable, yeah, but it’s the same feeling, same emotion.” He smiled a goofy smile and looked off in the distance over Peeta’s shoulder. “It’s like…. You look at them and….” He met Peeta’s gaze again, “you know you’re home.”

Peeta had to glance over his shoulder to see if Annie was actually there, because the way Finnick had stared down that hallway, Peeta was almost certain she had to be there. 

Letting his arms drop as he sighed, his shoulders hunching, Peeta rested his forehead on Finnick’s chest and groaned softly. 

Snickering, Finnick pushed him to arms length, hands on his shoulders, and gently shook him until he met his eyes again. “You’re here. You’re safe. This is real.” He sighed. “It’s a really messed up situation, but it’s where you are.” He grinned impishly. “Now go get her and tell her you love her, you idiot, before I do.”

Gently shoving Peeta back toward the room, all thought of flipping Finnick the bird faded from his mind when he heard Katniss sleeping fitfully, moaning softly in what sounded like pain or distress, and her monitor registering a higher and higher pulse rate. 

The nurses words about what causes the elevation came back to him, and Peeta was in the room and beside her faster than Finnick could say “go”. 

The door shut softly behind him, but it was enough to make Katniss sit upright in bed, wide eyed, immediately grimacing and groaning as she grabbed her midsection.

Peeta put a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately flinched, but looking up and seeing his face, relief washed over her features, and her pulse began to calm down. “You’re okay,” he reassured softly. 

“Thank you,” she all but whispered. “I am now that you’re here.”

They looked at one another and shared a soft smile, their eye contact never wavering. 

“Scoot over,” Peeta said simply, jutting his chin forward as if to motion to her which way to go.

“What? Why?” Katniss asked, but did as he asked. 

Slipping his shoes off, Peeta took the pillow she had been hugging away form her, ignoring her lighthearted protests, and stuck it a bit further up than her pillows, and climbed in the bed in the spot she had made for him. Pulling the sheets up over them, he laid his head on the pillow slightly further up, and gently pulled her so that she was resting on his chest, hugging him like she had clutched the pillow. 

“You slept better leaning forward when I was giving you the massage, I figured this might help-”

They heard a snort from the doorway and both looked to see Finnick in the exact position he had been in only minutes earlier. “You two idiots are going to be the death of me,” he muttered softly with a smirk, hanging his head once again with a gentle shake.

Looking back to one another, Peeta began again after a moment of silence, “Really, it was just an instinct, I’m sorry if I- I can get out of you want-”

He was cut off by Katniss firmly planting a kiss on his lips. Pulling away just enough to speak, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“Always,” Peeta responded without even thinking.

They both smiled when they heard Finnick whoop and say something about “finally” from down the hall before the door clicked shut.

Searching each other’s face, eyes flitting this way and that, from lips to eyes to nose to lashes, the space between them slowly began to close again, until it finally disappeared and was lost in a kiss, then another, and some more. 

In longing touches, laughter, and whispered discussions. 

Stolen glances and hidden smiles. 

The distance between them stayed small, much like the distance between each heart beat, until finally the nurses cleared her to no longer need the monitor. Probably more for their own sanity than anything else. 

When she finally got dressed in normal clothes and was discharged, she came out of the bathroom after braiding her hair, and smiled as Peeta waited for her by the door, his own broad smile across his face, one hand outstretched for her. When they were within touching distance, he firmly gripped her hand with his, reaching out to touch the tip of her braid with the other, fiddling with it absentmindedly, a goofy grin on his face.

Walking the few feet to the waiting wheelchair the hospital insisted she leave in, Peeta let go of her hand, but stayed as close as he could. After she finally was in the passenger seat of his car, he once again took her hand across the console, threaded their fingers together, and they both smiled. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Looking at him now, she understood her feelings of only a few days ago, walking through the quad with stolen glances. 

“Ready,” she said. 

Shifting the car into gear, Peeta gave her one more dazzling grin, and one last squeeze of her hand, before he turned to look at the road, and they rode in comfortable silence, and that wonderful feeling, of knowing that that special someone loves you back. 

After a few minutes, Peeta finally piped up, “Just so you know, that truce I called in the quad the other day? That only extends a few more days.”

Katniss turned a glare on him and he snickered.

#everybirdfellsilent #lovely-tothe-bone #prompt 153 #Springtime edition 2021 #submission