#AND she does good damage too? instant W | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

subskz · 1 year ago

Text

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you.

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence.

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl.

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone.

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake.

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you.

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties."

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice."

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts.

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm.

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory.

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy.

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them.

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out.

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better.

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day.

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face.

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance.

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?"

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

"Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet."

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you.

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him.

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably.

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before.

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year.

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

"Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food."

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display.

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces.

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?"

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn.

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring.

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face.

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout.

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down.

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner.

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit.

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting.

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice.

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden.

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you.

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words.

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly.

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly.

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon.

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story.

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on.

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems.

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant.

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you.

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only.

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it.

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it.

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place.

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face.

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods.

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study.

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is.

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning.

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it.

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his.

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you.

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room.

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile.

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him.

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue.

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname.

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow.

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips.

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat.

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles.

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands.

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it.

This was something friends think about, right?

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you.

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again.

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading.

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time.

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me."

"Don't mind me. Do your thing."

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too.

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course.

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving.

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere.

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin.

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you.

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into.

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him.

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own?

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again.

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you.

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey.

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed.

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly.

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it.

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe.

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body.

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago.

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now.

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly. You hated how weak you felt in that instant.

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds.

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him.

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

"Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people.

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly.

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again."

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will.

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment.

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up.

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie.

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you."

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you.

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now.

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him.

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down.

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves.

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic.

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you.

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?"

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face.

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music.

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key.

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing.

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance.

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck.

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life.

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again.

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you.

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity.

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features.

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it.

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?"

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you.

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him.

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly.

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will."

"Okay."

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer."

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply.

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds.

That's four seconds more than the first time.

Progress.

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days.

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting.

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her.

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her.

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are.

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called.

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay.

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart.

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain.

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her?

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself.

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing.

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better."

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure.

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob.

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug.

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho.

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along.

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm.

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace.

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head.

"I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first.

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore.

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you."

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

#FINALLY!!! turning the lights down low scattering rose petals lighting candles…my date w invisible thread is upon me at last 🥰#also i’m doing a sahar-style live reaction so apologies if i comment on literally every little thing that happens hehe im excited #hitting me w the clay metaphor right off the bat...i'm in awe of how perfectly you described childhood development w just a single analogy #molding the reader when she’s young n impressionable and leaving those imprints to harden beyond repair even after she's grown #what a beautifully melancholy way to describe her relationship w her mother and how it affects her view of herself i love it so much ㅠ #lesm inho. leemingo. LEMINHO!!! THE LAZY SMILE NOO U ALREADY GOT ME 😭😭😭 it’s so fucking over and i only just started oh my god #his eyes being the first thing she notices when they meet…the reader is just like me fr but describing them as black holes that draw her in #is making me crazy IT’S SO TRUE!!!! the most mesmerizing eyes known to man that warp space n time this comparison is absolutely stunning #the chill in his hand reminding her of a horrible memory like that 😞 so heartbreaking but also such a clever way to give insight into #the reader's character as well as insight into the the type of relationship she n lino will have and how it will likely resurface old wound #“u weren't sure what u would find on the other side nor did u have any desire to find out” u conveyed the odd magnetism of his eyes SO WELL #im very glad she got a higher grade than him i was not prepared for the smugness that would ensue if he beat her -_-; but a detail i really #adore is how casually lino takes the loss i feel like it goes to show that he truly doesnt have any ill intent despite being so provocative #the cat cafe is called limbo PLEASE THATS SO CUTE 😭 lino mimicking her words…n dodging the pillow i cant stand him actually #to be minho is to be insufferable and get away w it…she should throw a brick at his head next (<- madly in love)#oh my god the part where he laughs at her for hitting her head but from that point on covers that edges of the tables to protect her 😭😭😭#i’m going to be sick to my stomach thsi is the most minho expression of care on earth. all the careful linoisms u included are killing me ㅠ #comparing his eyelashes to the wings of a butterfly ARE U KIDDING!! that has me clutching my heart it's such delicate n gentle beauty #i love that he’s just as competitive as the reader but in a much more lighthearted way…he sees it almost like a game whereas she sees it as #a very serious demonstration of her worth. minho eventually becoming the one she wants to prove herself to rather than her mother #is so intensely sweet and heartwrenching at the same time ): in just a few months he's shown her a healthier love than her mother ever did #THEIR FIRST SNOW TOGETHER NONONO 😭 this entire scene has me inconsolable oh my god LINO W HIS SNOWBALL HE IS SO ANNOYINGLY CUTE #“u cant decide if ur shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him” critical hit on my heart…u painted such a #lovely picture of his laughter i can clearly envision his wild giggles and the way his entire body laughs w him when he’s really excited ㅠ #I WAS GONNA COMMENT ON THE SNOW NOT SPARKING THAT SAME AWFUL MEMORY THIS TIME 😭 his laughter brought her so much warmth she didnt even have #the chance to think abt it i'm so devastated by this parallel…little by little she’s healing w him and melting the frost her mother left #the way the reader grabs her fork to threaten him like he did w the spoon HELP theyre rubbing off on each other without even realizing it #every character detail u included is so well thought out u did a brilliant job ㅠㅠ it makes them human and the story all the more immersive #lino letting her eat first while he cooks the meat and him blushing everywhere when she feeds him MY BABY 😞💔 he thinks he’s so slick…#asking how she’d dispose of a body over dinner…lee minho master of romance everyone 🙏 but literally OF COURSE HE WOULD

6K notes · View notes

onebluebookworm · 2 years ago

Text

March 2023 Book Club Picks

It Ended Badly: 13 of the Worst Breakups in History by Jennifer Wright - Breaking up is hard - the tears, the uncertainty, the late-night Facebook stalking after a few glasses of wine. But something that might help is a look at some famous historical figures and their lost relationships. Like the break up of Catherine Lamb and Lord Byron, which culminated in her sending him a letter full of her bloody pubic hair. Or the coldness of Lord Alfred Douglas, unmoved by Oscar Wilde landing in prison because of their affair, wrote several books denouncing him and downplaying their relationship if it meant staying in his family's good graces. Or Norman Mailer firing a loaded gun at his ex-wife during a crowded house party. Or Emperor Nero, who killed almost everyone he ever cared about over a broken heart. Suddenly stalking your ex's Instagram stories doesn't sound too bad, does it.

Belinda Goes to Bath by Marion Chesney - Hannah Pym, the Traveling Matchmaker, rides again! Traveling to Bath to see the ocean, she finds herself sharing the post with Miss Belinda Earle, a spirited heiress who vows to never marry...only for her father to banish her to Bath to be straightened out by a spinster aunt. When their party is stranded on the property of the Marquess of Frenton, Hannah notices the instant attraction between Belinda and the Marquess, and vows to work her magic once more to keep Belinda out of the clutches of her mad aunt.

Rain by Joe Hill: Honeysuckle Speck is the happiest woman alive. It's a beautiful August day in Boulder, Colorado, and she's finally moving in with her beloved girlfriend. But in the blink of an eye, the sky darkens, and their blissful world is torn apart when splinters of beautiful, but deadly crystal rain down from the sky.

I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid - Jake and his girlfriend travel down a lonely country road to visits Jake's parents. Little does Jake realize his girlfriend is beginning to rethink their relationship. She's thinking of ending things. When they arrive at the house, the girlfriend quickly begins to realize that something is not quite right there - Jake's parents keep asking her awkward questions, and she sees pictures in the house that could be a younger version of herself. As the the night wears on and things get more and more unsettling, things culminate in one terrifying moment in a high school gymnasium.

Wasteland: The Great War and the Origins of Modern Horror by W. Scott Poole - World War I (or, the Great War, as it was called) raged from 1914 to 1918, one of the most devastating events of the early 20th century. New technology brought war machines to the forefront, killing 38 million people, and sending 17 million home with disfiguring injuries or psychological damage that was neither understood nor treated effectively. From this broken populace emerged the foundations of modern horror as we know them - the mental asylums that corral and punish rather than treat and heal; the unfeeling, mechanized tools of death that use humans as fuel; even disfigured monsters, from Frankenstein to Freddy Krueger, all find their origins in the nightmare wasteland that was the front of the Great War.

#book club #march 2023 #it ended badly #jennifer wright #belinda goes to bath #marion chesney #rain #joe hill #i'm thinking of ending things #iain reid #wasteland #w. scott poole

1 note · View note

purple-babygirl · 3 years ago

Note

request if open; daddy!bucky had a bad day and little!reader is just trying to comfort him but he accidently lashes out and yells at her/pushes her and immediately feels guilty but she regresses even more into her little space and is scared of him, you can kinda play around w this and figure out how it ends! xx

Pairing: Mafia!Daddy!Bucky Barnes x f!little!reader

Word Count: 3,423 (you know you love me)

Warnings: ddlg dynamics, yelling, harsh treatment, crying, angst turned fluff?

A/N: thank you so much for sending this in, nonnie. i took your request and ran with it to angst land. Hope you enjoy xx💜

~~~~~

signature needed

“Dada,”

She could see Bucky’s frown, the lines on his forehead wrinkling his handsome face up. She knew it meant he was upset and she never wanted Daddy to be upset. She knew he never left her upset.

Bucky’s been looking like that since he walked through the mansion door that morning, barely acknowledging her when she greeted him. He almost forgot to give her her welcome-home kiss even.

“Not now, angel,” Bucky murmured, proceeding to flip through the papers covering his desk, huffing and puffing every now and then at the mess he was stuck trying to fix.

“Wanna show you somethin’,” she whispered, biting back a smile.

“Later, angel. I’m busy right now.”

He regretted telling her to come in. He should’ve known she’d be nothing but a distraction.

“Dada, jus’ take one look,” she bounced on her feet before slipping a neat sheet of paper on top of Bucky’s desk, momentarily blocking his view of the contracts he was angrily staring at. Now that made Bucky mad.

“I said I was busy!” Bucky shouted as his head snapped to her, his hand slamming down on the paper without even seeing it, blindly crumpling it and throwing it on the floor at her feet. She flinched at the sudden outburst, taking a step back.

“Dada,” tears filled her eyes as she looked at her discarded paper. Bucky just broke her heart.

“Why don’t you ever listen!” Bucky grabbed her arm tighter than usual, pulling her back to him, “How many times do I need to repeat the words for you to understand! I said not now, didn’t I?!” He let go of her arm with more force than he’d intended, making her stumble a little.

She was terrified now. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked at Bucky with wide eyes. He has never lashed out on her like that, not even when she was big. She was scared. As her breath picked up, she wished she’d never left her playroom.

“Get out and don’t step into this office again until I tell you you can, you hear me?” Bucky growled, oblivious to the signs of regression and horror showing on her face.

Her quick nods set off no alarms in his head as he watched her run out of his office.

Bucky felt bad about taking his anger out on her the second she fled the room. He flopped back down with a huff, flipping through the contracts again and again with no focus. He threw them down carelessly, running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

Cracking his hurting neck, Bucky regretted raising his voice at her. He couldn’t see the words on the contracts; her teary eyes flashing through his mind every time he tried reading.

Why did he have to yell? He could’ve just looked at her paper. She was likely trying to show him a drawing. Why couldn’t he just go with it? He’s sworn he’d never let anybody hurt his angel and then he goes and does this?

Bucky was ashamed. What kind of Daddy was he if he treated his little like that? It was no excuse that he was still getting used to being a Daddy. Bucky knew that wasn’t how a man should treat his girl.

He bowed forward, picking up the balled paper by his desk. He carefully straightened it, deciding to fix his angel’s damaged drawing and make it up to her.

Only it wasn’t a drawing; the paper was a handwritten Daddy-Angel contract. It even had colourful flowers, bees and butterflies decorating the paper and everything.

She was probably trying to play office with him; probably just wanted Bucky to pretend he was signing her paper too.

A sad smile spread across Bucky’s lips as he read the paper. The contract stated that

- Dada will smile

- Dada will not be angry no more

- Dada will let me sit on his lap (will be quiet pp)

- Dada will play with me after work

Dada: ……………..

The paper ended with a free space for Bucky to sign in case of agreement to the ‘terms’.

There were a lot of moments where Bucky wished he could turn back time, but not being able to do so in this very moment seemed to torture him the most. He was an asshole.

She just wanted him to calm down. She respected that he was working and she wasn’t trying to interrupt, she merely wanted him to smile. She even pinky promised to sit quietly in his lap.

Bucky has messed up and it was for nothing because the damage to his work has already been done. He shouted at her like she was responsible when she was just trying to help him feel better.

Bucky got his pen out of his pocket, signing the empty place by his name, remorsefully sighing at his utter stupidity.

“Angel,” Bucky called, knocking on the door before opening it.

She wasn’t in her playroom, but Bucky could see her round table full of similar papers to the one he had folded in his pocket.

She’s made at least 6 of these ‘contracts’, some of them were written in different colours or had spelling mistakes.

She’d obviously worked hard until she settled on the paper to give him and he ended up throwing it on the floor.

Bucky’s hand rubbed his face, frustrated at himself and his lack of control. An asshole was what he was. An asshole.

“Angel, where are you, baby?” Bucky sighed, opening the bedroom door to see her sitting, hugging her knees on the large bed.

She looked too tiny bundled up like that and her muffled sniffles punched at Bucky’s heart.

“Angel.”

She only lifted her head up when she felt the bed dip under Bucky’s weight and panic flashed over her delicate features.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Bucky said, his hand instinctively moving to wipe her tears only to have her flinch back, squeezing her eyes shut as if she was awaiting a blow.

Bucky’s heart stopped beating for a second when he realized what had just happened.

She was scared of him. His angel had flinched away from his touch. A huge lump formed in Bucky’s throat as she opened her eyes again, “angel?”

“Please don’ hurt me. Won’ come to the office. Won’ leave the room.” She shook her head and sobbed, scurrying back on the bed and away from Bucky.

This pained Bucky more than any punishment he thought he deserved. The look on her face was enough for him to want the walls to open up and swallow him.

“Angel, I would never hurt you. You know that.” Bucky whispered, sniffing back the tears about to spill down his bearded cheeks.

He needed to hear her say she did. He needed to know she knew Bucky could never hurt her.

She looked from Bucky to her left arm where his metal hand had grabbed her earlier. His fingers had left a mark around her arm. The skin was still pulsing as if his hold on her never loosened.

It was too late and it didn’t matter what he said because he’d already hurt her and the evidence was on her body.

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed as he swallowed again. He didn’t know what to say. He was supposed to be the one protecting her, not the one hurting her. How could he do such a thing to his angel?

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, shaking his head regretfully before trying to get closer to her.

Her instant reaction was to crawl back further and Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. He felt his soul leaving his body when he looked her in the eyes and saw fear.

A tear betrayed him, falling down, gliding by his lips. Bucky wiped it away quickly, sniffing and clearing his throat.

“I signed your contract, angel.” Bucky got the paper out of his pocket, opening it and putting it on the bed for her to see.

Her eyes looked down and more tears left them at the sight of her once fine work now ruined.

“I’m so sorry, angel. Daddy was bad, baby. I’m sorry,” Bucky pleaded, his fingers reaching out for hers.

She pulled her hand away quickly, hiding it behind her back and Bucky knew he had really messed up. It was no use trying.

She was scared of him. His touch frightened her and was no longer a symbol of comfort to her.

He took his hand away, straightening his back and getting off the bed.

“I-I’ll see you at lunch then.” Bucky sniffed again.

“And angel?” he called from the door, getting her attention.

“Thank you for caring for daddy. I love you.” Bucky has never heard his voice as weak as he did in that moment and he felt even worse when she didn’t say it back.

When the table was set and Bucky came out of his office to find her chair empty, another lump was quick to form in his throat.

He wasn’t even hungry. He had no appetite to eat; he just wanted to see her but didn’t have the guts to peek into their bedroom again.

“Angel?” Bucky was ready to knock on the bedroom door but it was already open.

He carefully pushed it and took a look inside to find the bed empty. He tried not to freak out as he knocked the en suite bathroom door and got no answer. When he opened it, she wasn’t there either.

Bucky could hear his own blood pumping in his ears because she was no where to be found in her playroom as well.

She left. She left him and she had every right to. How could he lose her? How could he lose the one good thing in his life?

Tears distorted Bucky’s vision as his hand clutched the side of the door. His heart clenched at the thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her sweet voice call for him again; never getting to smell her on his pillow again.

The sound of her feet padding on the floor behind him pulled Bucky out of his head and he thought he’d imagined it for a second. He turned around and she froze when his eyes fell on her.

She shifted on her feet, hiding one behind the other and internally hoping Bucky wouldn’t notice she was roaming around with bare feet when he’d specifically asked her not to before.

That was the last of Bucky’s concerns at the moment though. He was just relieved she didn’t leave him even if he deserved it.

“Where were you, angel?” the tenderness of Bucky’s tone let her know he wasn’t mad at her for walking around shoeless.

“Couldn’ fin’ PinePine,” she replied softly, referring to the white feline, “’s lunch time.” Her eyes remained fixed on her feet as she avoided Bucky’s.

He was secretly thankful for that, not wanting her to see him in tears twice in the same day.

She was so pure; so caring and loving to everyone around. Bucky found himself slightly jealous of his own cat for a second there.

“Where did you find, PinePine?” He asked calmly, just wanting to hear her speak to him.

“Downstairs,” she answered shortly, leaving Bucky disappointed.

“Let’s go then. The table’s set.” Bucky smiled, hesitantly offering her his hand.

She stood unmoving for a few seconds, eyes still casted down, before she decided to hold onto Bucky’s pointer.

He sighed, knowing she was still scared but didn’t want to reject him. She was so sweet on him even when he least deserved it.

When lunch was over, Bucky let her know she could come to the office whenever she wanted, although he doubted she would. She gave a small nod before running back to the other room as Bucky shouted an “I’ll get back to work then.” behind her.

He didn’t actually get back to work. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think of anything but the way she pulled away from his touch every single time he tried to come near her, or the way she forced herself to hold one of his fingers as they walked less than 10 steps together to the dining room. She'd even begged him not to hurt her earlier.

How did he let himself fuck up so bad? When did they get there? What was he going to do now? How does one get forgiven after being this awful?

A lamp lit above the mafia boss’ head and he grabbed a clean sheet of paper before he could lose the idea.

Bucky was going to write his angel a contract. A pardon contract.

His Daddy-Angel 2.0 contract stated that:

- Angel will forgive Daddy

- Angel will not be sad with Daddy no more

- Angel will sit on Daddy’s lap (even if she doesn’t wanna be quiet)

- Angel will play with Daddy after work if she still wants to

Angel: …………….

Bucky sighed as he tried to draw anything other than sloppy hearts in the empty places around the words to decorate the paper but he was terrible at this. He was desperately in need of his angel’s forgiveness though so he scratched his beard and kept working.

Bucky needed to know she wasn’t actually scared of him; not her. Anyone but her. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He wouldn’t be able to ever tolerate himself if she didn’t forgive him.

Bucky’s tongue was hanging outside the side of his mouth as he drew another birdie on the bottom of the contract. It didn’t really look like a bird, unless of course that bird was struck by lightning a hundred times before, but Bucky thought it would do. After all, he was no artist. He didn’t draw. He didn’t deal with colours; he dealt with weapons. His hands were rough for a reason. But he would do anything for his angel. Anything to win her over again.

A knock on his door cut off his focus and Bucky groaned.

“Come in.”

He felt sorry for whoever had the bad luck of interrupting him during his contract-making, ready to yell at someone.

Bucky looked up from his desk when he didn’t hear anyone speaking, and his face has never softened so fast.

It was his girl who’d come into the office. She had her folded contract in her hand and her eyes were looking kind of puffy from crying.

Bucky just stared at her in remorse, pushing his chair back a bit as he watched her walk closer to his seat.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry. He was so sorry. He’s never been sorrier in his life. He wanted nothing more than to take every word and every harsh touch back.

She stood there for a second, waiting to see if Bucky was going to kick her out this time too. When he didn’t, she rounded the desk and stopped by Bucky’s chair.

Bucky remained speechless, not wanting to scare her away again. She came to him. She came on her own. Unless she came to throw the contract in his face and break up with him, that should be a good sign.

Her tongue peeked outside, wetting her lips nervously before she stretched an arm out, ever so carefully nearing it to Bucky’s thigh. Her gaze was glued to Bucky’s face, gauging his reaction. When Bucky’s frown didn’t show up she let her palm touch Bucky’s leg.

Bucky didn’t understand what she was doing but he wouldn’t dream of questioning her. He was just glad she was okay with touching him again at all after what he’d done, even if she was doing it so cautiously it broke his heart to a thousand pieces.

With her stare trained on Bucky, she stepped forward, slotting herself in the small space between Bucky’s chair and his desk, facing him. Her hands moved to grab on Bucky’s strong shoulders, still watching his face. She swallowed before effortlessly climbing on, cozily curling herself on his lap.

Bucky’s heart swelled as he felt her nose nuzzle his shirt. His own emotions overwhelmed him and tears gathered in his eyes.

“Angel?” his voice was barely a whisper as he looked down to her, careful not to startle her.

She looked up at him worriedly, thinking he didn’t want her where she was.

Her eyes showed fear for a short second before she unfolded the scrunched paper in her hand, a finger pointing to the third term.

“Dada signed,” she said, her eyes so innocent and Bucky couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“Oh, angel,” Bucky’s tears uncontrollably rolled down, wetting his beard.

He held her so close, she could hear his heartbeats drumming in his chest.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Bucky cried, wetly kissing her forehead over and over.

“I’m sorry, my angel. Forgive me,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her bruised shoulder before lifting both hands to his lips and kissing them, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Dada,” her smaller hands cupped Bucky’s cheeks as sadness covered her features.

She’s never seen Bucky like that. Not even at his father’s funeral did he sob like that.

She didn’t know it but to Bucky, the thought of losing her hurt more than the actual loss of a family member who never gave two shits about him.

She was Bucky’s everything. His love, his partner, his companion, his baby angel. She was the one who stole his heart and took good care of it. Bucky would give up anything and everything in life and choose her to forever keep, protect and love.

Her short thumbs wiped under Bucky’s eyes, pushing his tears away. She turned to straddle him and wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder.

The smell of her hair calmed Bucky’s heart down as he turned his face to kiss her head, hands settling on her back, “I will never hurt you, angel. Please tell me you know that, my love.”

Bucky’s hoarse voice had her pulling away from the hug. She sat back and looked her man in the eyes, her thumb brushing his chin, “I know,” she whispered and Bucky could see it in her eyes. She did. She believed him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

She stroked Bucky’s cheeks as he sniffled, smiling gratefully at her reply. And his whole world lit up again when she smiled back, timidly pecking the corner of his pink lips.

Oh she was a real angel. No one’s ever been this kind to Bucky before, only her. Bucky kissed her hand one more time, quietly thanking her for forgiving him.

“I made you a contract too,” Bucky told her with a chuckle, pointing to the desk behind her as he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp, her smile reaching her wide eyes. She turned around in Bucky’s lap, planting her knees on the chair between Bucky’s open legs and stood on them to take a look.

She took her time reading the words and then she was off Bucky’s lap and bolting out of the room.

The man was about to lose it again, thinking she’d remembered his cruelty towards her and changed her mind when she came running back inside the office.

She climbed back on the chair between Bucky’s thighs, her glitter pen in hand.

Bucky sighed in relief, his lips spreading with an adoring smile as he watched her write her name letter by letter in glittery ink where her signature was needed. Bucky held her waist, kissing her back as he admired how focused she was.

She closed the cap on the pen, placing it on the desk before picking up the contract to show Bucky.

“Angel signed,” she beamed, plopping herself against Bucky’s chest and clinging to him, earning a hearty chuckle from him.

“I love you so much, angel. More than anything in the world.” Bucky gently held her face by the chin, giving her lips a short kiss.

“I love you too, dada.” She smiled, blushing as she hid her face in his chest again.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him and closing his eyes, just enjoying the feel of her body against his once more, silently promising his angel to never hurt her ever again.

Tags:

@harrysthiccthighss

@tinystudentfirepurse

@lavendercitizen

@tumblin-theworldaway

4K notes · View notes

the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years ago

Text

hear those bells ring: chapter 4 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo and Reader finally get a moment alone, and important conversations are had. Over dinner of course ;)

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 4, but it’s over 10k, so hope that makes up for it lol Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 3 Tumblr Link: Here

“Great. See you then.”

The words ricocheted around your head like pinballs, and all you could do was stare as Dynamight turned on his heel and strode out of your ruined shop like he couldn’t stand to be there a second longer.

“Bak—bro, c’mon!” Red Riot, or Kirishima as he insisted, called after the blond, who didn’t stop. Then the redhead turned back to you, clapping his hands in front of his face and bowing his head. “I’m so sorry about him. He can be a little…”

“Direct?” you offered when the hero trailed off into silence for a beat to long.

“I was gonna say he can be a little bit of a dick, but that sounds better,” Kirishima laughed, and you felt your face flush when he aimed that charming grin in your direction.

You’d heard stories of how charismatic Red Riot was. He was a popular, mainstream favorite hero. The gossip magazines were always covered with his shirtless pictures that never failed to rile up the female population, even Mrs. Kojima and her old lady friends.

But nothing could have prepared you for being in front of him, for having him wink and smile at you, even if you logically knew he wasn’t coming onto plain old you. He was currently wearing a dark hoodie and non-descript jeans, but you could still see the definition of his muscles through the bulky clothing, which definitely wasn’t helping matters.

“W-Well, I’m sure you and D-Dynamight have more important places to be,” you stuttered as you averted your eyes. “I-I don’t want to keep you from any hero business.”

“Alright, alright, I can take a hint, I’ll get out of your hair,” Kirishima chuckled as he held his hands up.

Your face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “N-No! I mean—”

“Just a joke.” The redhead winked at you again as he started to back up toward the front door, his boots crunching over glass and debris. “I’ll see you later, though. Oh! And, uh, make sure you’re on time tonight for Bak—Dynamight’s pick up. He really hates tardiness.”

“Noted,” you murmured as your stomach bottomed out inside you.

“Don’t look so terrified!” the pro hero laughed, pausing in the frame of your broken doorway. “I promise he’s not so bad once you get to know him. All bark, no bite, remember? But if he does bark at you too much, just let me know, and I’ll be sure to leash him.”

Kirishima shot another sharp-toothed grin at you, and you strained your facial muscles to try and flash him a small smile in return. You weren’t very successful, since Red Riot’s bright expression dimmed a fraction, but thankfully he didn’t come back into the store.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he said in a more serious but reassuring tone. “We can get breakfast! I know all the great places around the agency.”

“O-Okay.” You didn’t know what else to say. Why was this pro hero offering to take you to breakfast? Was this just because of the news? You’d seen how the media had been tearing into Dynamight the last two days, calling him reckless, arrogant. Several interviews with the other heroes who’d been on the scene didn’t help matters, either, since by their accounts, they almost had the villain handled before Dynamight stepped in.

Maybe Red Riot was just trying to butter you up so you didn’t help with Dynamight’s crucifixion.

What the redhead didn’t know, however, was you couldn’t say a word against the blond, even if you wanted to.

“Okay,” Kirishima echoed and drew you out of your thoughts. The pro hero flashed you one last smile and put two fingers to his forehead in a jaunty salute. “Have a good rest of your afternoon and evening! And when you get to the agency, if you need anything, just let our PR manager Nao know. Take care!”

With that, the redhead pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, slipped on his sunglasses, and ducked out of your store. Seconds later, he was gone.

A beat of silence passed by, then two, and then you felt your knees give out from under you as you collapsed to the floor. Pain flared through your lower legs as you struck the hard, debris-strewn tile, but you barely registered the discomfort. Your breathing started to quicken, coming out in harsh pants, and the two paper bags in your arms crinkled with the motion.

“Fuck,” you exhaled as tears blurred your vision, lifting a shaky hand to grasp tightly at your hair. “Fuck.”

You’d been so stupid. Yesterday, when neither Dynamight nor the police came banging down your hotel room door, you thought maybe you were just being paranoid. That the blond pro hero hadn’t noticed anything unusual, and you could just go living your normal, unimportant life.

Of course, the universe just had to prove you wrong.

Because if you had any doubts before, they were gone now, evaporated under Dynamight’s hot, crimson glare.

He knew your secret, and he was going to confront you about it. Tonight. Why else would he insist on picking you up? Alone. You’d heard Red Riot say he was patrolling this evening, so he wouldn’t be around to play buffer between you and Dynamight, which provided the perfect opportunity for an interrogation.

But what could you do? Refuse? Dynamight didn’t seem to be the type to take the word “no” very well. Run? The expression you’d seen on his face before he left clearly told you that you wouldn’t make it very far. Besides, where would you go? Your parents were in America, and as you embarrassingly admitted to that detective the other night, you didn’t have any friends.

And, until your apartment and shop were renovated, you didn’t have a place to sleep, and you didn’t have the spare money to live out of a hotel, so the agency was really your only option.

Well, there was prison, too, you supposed. Maybe Dynamight was just going to pick you up and take you straight to the police station.

He’s not going to turn you in, a small, hopeful voice inside of you said. He would have already done so if that was his goal.

There was logic behind that sentiment, but it offered you no comfort.

Because if Dynamight didn’t want to turn you in, what did he want from you?

~*~*~*~*~

“Mrs. Kojima,” you sighed for the millionth time. “I’m going to be fine. And I really can’t take all of this with me.”

You gingerly passed the large paper bag full of glass food containers back to Tadashi, Mrs. Kojima’s teenaged grandson, who stared at the bag with the hunger only a sixteen-year-old boy could achieve.

“Fine?” the old Japanese lady scoffed, narrowing her dark eyes at you. “You would be fine in a nice, fancy hotel, not in a building with those… those… delinquents!”

“Delinquents?” you couldn’t help but laugh. “They’re pro heroes. Famous pro heroes, some of the top in the country.”

“If they’re so good, they wouldn’t have destroyed your home,” Mrs. Kojima huffed before she used her cane to nudge her grandson. “And Tadashi, give the poor girl back her food. Your face is too gaunt to be healthy, girl, and don’t think I can’t see those circles under your eyes.”

The boy sighed as he stared longingly at the homemade food, and you could have sworn he was drooling, but he obeyed his grandmother and extended the bag to you again.

“No, please, keep it,” you insisted as you waved your hands in front of you, taking a step back. “I-I don’t know if there will be a place to keep food in my room, and I don’t want to bother them too much.”

“You should bother them, since they’ve been such a bother to you,” the old lady said as she nudged you this time with her cane. “You are too nice. I always say this. You need to be more selfish.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled. “But thank you for thinking of me, Mrs. Kojima. It was very kind for you and Tadashi to come see me off.”

“How many times must I tell you to call me Ayano?” the elderly woman groused, tapping your shin with her cane again. “And of course we came. I wasn’t going to let you stand alone on a dark street and wait for that monster of a man.”

“Grandma!” Tadashi gasped as he looked up from salivating into the bag of food. “Dynamight is the number two hero! He’s not a monster, he’s the coolest!”

“I’ve seen him on TV,” his grandmother sniffed. “Always yelling and swearing. And Mr. Takeyoshi said he was very rude the other night. Not to mention all the damage he caused! Nothing but a foul-mouthed delinquent.”

“Grandmaaaaa,” Tadashi whined.

You sided more with Mrs. Kojima on this one, but the absolute adoration on the boy’s face made a small smile tug at your lips.

But your amusement quickly faded as you glanced down at your phone again.

6:58.

Said foul-mouthed delinquent should be here any minute.

As if your thoughts summoned him, the squeal of tires suddenly echoed through the otherwise quiet twilight, and you turned—with a pit in your stomach—to face the intersection down the road. Your street had been blocked off by barricades since the asphalt was still missing in patches, so the sleek, black car that had just pulled up was forced to park on the corner and put on its hazards.

Your heart was hammering beneath your sternum, beating out a frantic, hummingbird rhythm, and you watched the car door get flung open, a lithe figure ducking out a moment later. The last rays of fading sunlight glinted off his ash blond hair before he pulled up his hood, but then he was looking in your direction, and even if he was too far to see the details of his face, you felt the instant his eyes locked onto you.

“Holy shit, is that him?” Tadashi asked behind you, followed by a yelp as his grandmother smacked him with her cane.

“Language,” she hissed, but the rest of her sentence was drowned out by the blood roaring through your ears as Dynamight started to walk toward you.

No, not walk. Stalk. He looked like a predator slinking down the sidewalk, dressed in black and skimming through the shadows. There were a few people milling about the street, your neighbors who were still trying to clean up, but the pro hero paid them no mind. His gaze was still zeroed in on you, and your breath grew more shallow with each step he took.

Don’t pass out, don’t pass out, you chanted in your head. And smile! Try not to look like he’s your executioner.

You plastered on a smile, but it felt jagged like the broken street you stood on, your cheeks aching from the strain.

Finally, after what felt like a blink and an eternity simultaneously, Dynamight came to a stop about ten feet away from you on the sidewalk. His hands were shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, his face was a cold mask on the tipping point of a scowl, and his eyes felt like red-hot embers burning into your face.

“At least you know how to be punctual,” he said without preamble, his voice as sharp as his scarlet gaze.

You heard Mrs. Kojima gasp behind you, followed by Tadashi frantically trying to shush her under his breath, so you cut the old lady off before she could say what was on her mind.

“T-Thank you for taking the time to escort me to the agency, Dynamight,” you said, bowing at the waist so you could get a moment’s reprieve from those red eyes. “It’s… very kind of you, since I know you must be busy with your hero duties.”

Mrs. Kojima harumphed behind you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before you straightened up.

Dynamight’s crimson gaze had lost none of its intensity, but he finally seemed to notice Tadashi and his grandmother over your shoulder, and when he spoke, he’s tone was a fraction of a degree softer.

“Yeah, well… it’s the least the agency can do,” he said evenly, like he’d memorized a script.

You wondered if Kirishima had said something to him after they left. Or maybe the PR manager the red-haired hero had mentioned?

Suddenly, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, and you winced.

“Sorry, this is Mrs. Kojima and her grandson, Tadashi,” you said, motioning to them. “They’re some of my customers who just wanted to see me off.”

“Customers,” Dynamight echoed as his red eyes raked over the pair. “For your stitching shop?”

Something about his tone seemed off, but you couldn’t place it.

“Alterations shop,” you corrected with a frown. “But yes.”

“Is that all?” he asked as his eyes locked with yours, and you felt your insides liquify.

Fuck. There was no way he could know that Mrs. Kojima and Tadashi had been “patients” of yours before. Right? Even if he knew about your quirk, that was a leap to make.

Then again, it did sound kind of weird for two random customers to take an interest in their seamstress’ personal life. You’d set yourself up for that one.

You opened your mouth, ready to clumsily explain, but Mrs. Kojima beat you to it.

“I knew her grandparents long before you were a thought in your daddy’s brain boy,” the old lady huffed as she hobbled forward to stand beside you, Tadashi stumbling after her. “So I check on her from time to time, especially when she’s meeting and going off with some no-good delinquent at night. Is that alright with you?”

“Mrs. Kojima—” you started as your eyes widened.

“Grandma!” Tadashi hissed, his face flushing with mortification.

Dynamight, for his part, actually smirked at the old lady’s attitude, amusement dancing in his red eyes as he finally shifted them off you.

“Well, Stitches here is gonna be fine,” he said with a sharp smile. “She’ll be staying in our finest suite, being waited on hand and foot for the next few weeks.”

Stitches? What the hell was that? Did he forget your name?

“Is that so?” Mrs. Kojima narrowed her dark eyes on the blond, and her expression said she didn’t trust the pro hero as far as she could throw him.

“Lucky,” Tadashi muttered under his breath.

“If you don’t believe me, you can call her tomorrow and check for yourself,” Dynamight said before he turned to face you completely, effectively cutting off any rebuttal from the Kojimas. “Are you ready? It’s cold, and the car’s running.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, shifting the strap of your duffle bag higher up on your shoulder. “J-Just a second.”

You turned back to Mrs. Kojima, who was blatantly glaring daggers at Dynamight, but her expression softened as she shuffled in to hug you.

“Watch out for him,” she whispered in your ear. “And take care of yourself. If something’s wrong, call me, no matter what. You can stay with me, okay?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” you murmured as you pulled away. “I’ll call you when I know more about the shop’s repairs. Tadashi, take care of your grandma for me.”

“Bah!” Mrs. Kojima scoffed, shooing you back with her cane. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” You smiled as you grabbed the handle of your small rolling suitcase beside you. “Have a good night.”

You turned back to Dynamight to find him suddenly beside you, the scent of burnt sugar enveloping you a moment later. You inhaled so fast it whistled through your teeth, but the pro hero didn’t even look at you as he slipped his finger through your duffle bag’s strap and pulled it off your shoulder. He slung it on his back in one fluid movement, and then he was reaching for your suitcase, too.

“I-I got this one!” you said, a little too loudly, as you stumbled back a step and dragged the suitcase with you. “Thank you, but, um, I’ve got it.”

Dynamight pursed his lips at you, his eyes narrowing into crimson slits, but then his gaze jumped over your shoulder.

“Got something you want to say, kid?” he grunted, and he looked a little ridiculous with your pink and purple patterned duffle peeking out from over his shoulder.

“M-Me?” Tadashi gaped and glanced around quickly like there was anyone else within half a block, but when he realized Dynamight was still staring at him expectantly, the boy began to ramble. “I-I just, uh, I just wanted to say I think you’re the coolest hero there is. Even more than Deku! Man, I wish I could have seen the fight the other night. You probably wiped the floor with that villain! When I grow up, I hope I’m a hero half as cool as you.”

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by the boy’s adoring word vomit. The blond blinked as the suspicion and defensiveness drained from his face and posture, and then an easy smirk stretched across his lips.

“You got a quirk, kid?” he asked.

Mrs. Kojima made a face beside you like she was going to cut in, but you put a hand on her arm and gestured to Tadashi’s beaming face, and the old lady sighed and relented. She knew what this meant for her grandson.

“Yeah, I do!” Tadashi grinned and puffed out his chest before he shifted the bag of food in his grasp and held out his right hand. His brow buckled in concentration, but a moment later a flame exploded to life in his palm. The flame grew, flickering upwards as it twisted and twined, changing shape as it went. In the blink of an eye, the teenager held the hilt of a fiery dagger, which he twirled around his knuckles. “I can make different objects with flames, and they act solid when I concentrate hard enough.”

“That’s a pretty cool power,” Dynamight said as he eyed the flaming blade. “Bet you kick ass in your hero course.”

“I-I do alright,” Tadashi said as he extinguished the dagger, trying to go for a nonchalant shrug, but the effect was ruined by his mile-wide grin and heart eyes. “You really think it’s cool?”

“It’s only cool if you’re the best, so don’t slack off,” the blond scoffed. “Only losers half-ass their way through school.”

Mrs. Kojima’s face was silently scandalized, but Tadashi’s grew determined.

“Yes, sir!” the boy said as he bowed at the waist. “I’ll work hard to be the best of the best.”

“Good.” Dynamight smirked. “Then, when you graduate, you can come prove how strong you are by taking me on. Who knows? If you’re actually strong, we might hire a new side-kick.”

Tadashi looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head as he straightened up, but the pro hero only snickered as he spun on heel and began to stride away.

“You comin’, Stitches?” he called over his shoulder.

“C-Coming!” you called back before you flashed the Kojimas one last smile. “Have a good night and be safe going home!”

Then you took off down the sidewalk, your rolling suitcase clattering over the broken concrete behind you.

Dynamight’s legs were twice as long as yours and quickly ate up the distance to his car still parked on the corner, and you only caught up to him as he was tossing your duffle in the trunk.

You stood on the curb panting for a moment, just staring at him, and then the blond looked up and caught your eye.

“What?” he grunted.

“N-Nothing.” You cleared your throat and moved to pick up your suitcase, but he beat you to it, bending down and hefting the thing up in one fluid movement. The trunk slammed shut with a resounding thud, and the two of you were left staring at each other in silence.

“Get in,” Dynamight finally said, jerking his chin at the passenger door. Then he walked around to the driver’s side, yanked open the door, and slid inside without another word.

You could still feel the Kojimas’ eyes on your back, and you didn’t want to give them cause to worry, so you took a deep breath and got into the car.

Even though your heart was trying to break free of your ribcage.

The car itself was sleek and fancy, both inside and out. The seats were a supple red leather with ebony stitching, the dashboard shiny and inlaid with the newest gadgets, and you curled into the seat, afraid to even touch anything. This car was probably worth more money than you’d ever made in your entire life, and you had worked odd jobs since you were sixteen.

The engine rumbled to life as Dynamight cranked the ignition, warm air blasting out of the vents and thawing your red nose and cheeks. The dash said it was only eighteen degrees Celsius, but the wind had been brisk.

“Seatbelt,” the pro hero said as he yanked his own across his thick chest.

You swallowed tightly before you did as you were bidden, and the second you were secured, the blond was throwing the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. Your barricaded street disappeared in a blur, and suddenly you were on your way.

With Dynamight. Alone. In his car.

The luxurious interior of the vehicle began to close in on you, feeling more like the walls of a coffin, and you braced yourself for Dynamight’s interrogation.

Except… it never came.

Minutes passed by in silence, and all the while, the blond’s red eyes stayed focused on the road ahead. One of his hands casually gripped the steering wheel, the other wrapped around the gear shift, and every one of the hero’s movements was fluid, precise.

You tried not to, but you couldn’t help but study him out of the corner of your eye. His blank face gave nothing away, and neither did his slumped body language. He was covered in a dark hoodie and jeans again, so you couldn’t see much skin besides his hands and neck, but he looked… fine.

One would have never guessed that he nearly bled to death beneath your hands two days ago.

The memory of his blood, warm and tacky on your skin, made you clench your hands in your lap, and when you glanced over at the blond again, you nearly jumped out of your seat when you met red eyes.

“Now you got somethin’ you want to say, Stitches?” he asked as he shifted gears, smoothly pulling around another car.

“M-My name’s not Stitches,” you replied without thinking, but maybe this was a good thing. Thinking always got you in trouble.

“Yeah, no shit,” the blond snorted, darting a quick look at you again before turning back to the road. “But you keep starin’ at me, so spit it out.”

You fumbled for something to say, still thinking of his ashen face splattered with blood. “T-That was nice, what you said back there to Tadashi. He, um, really idolizes you, so you probably made his whole year.”

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he looked in the rearview mirror. “Chances are, kid probably won’t end up as much.”

You frowned. “But you said—”

“I know what I said,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours again. “And I meant it. Slacking off is for losers. Still, the brat will probably end up as a B-lister at most, more likely just an extra. That’s just the damn odds.”

His words were harsh, but you knew they were true. There was no shortage of people signing up to be “heroes” in the world, but very few actually achieved the fame and notoriety of, say, All Might. Even years after his retirement, the Old Symbol of Peace was still talked about.

“Well… thank you for not saying that to Tadashi,” you murmured as you averted your eyes out the window.

“Someone will have to eventually,” Dynamight grunted. “But, if he proves me wrong, then he might actually have some potential.”

“Mmm,” you hummed noncommittally. You didn’t want to talk about Tadashi anymore. Hell, you didn’t want to talk about anything.

But you knew it was coming. You could feel the pro hero building up to it, the air in the car becoming more tense and charged by the second, like the calm before the storm.

Part of you wished Dynamight would just rip the bandaid off already.

The other part of you wondered if you would survive opening the car door and jumping from the moving vehicle, but at the speed the blond was driving, chances were slim.

You were just thinking to pull out your phone and subtly look at the agency on the map to see how far away you were, but then Dynamight cleared his throat, and you felt all the saliva dry up in your mouth.

This was it.

“So,” the pro hero started as he pulled up to a stoplight, and his eyes found yours again. The red light reflected off his face and made it hard to tell where his irises began, everything washed out in crimson.

But before he could get another word out, a loud growl split the interior of the car.

Dynamight blinked at you before his gaze fell to your stomach, and you felt your face flare with heat.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you clenched your abdomen, trying to shut it up, but it only growled louder in defiance. “I, um, forgot to eat dinner since I was busy packing.”

And because your stomach had been in knots all day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“Wasn’t that kid holding a whole bag of food back there?” Dynamight asked, frowning at you.

“Y-Yeah.” You blushed even harder. Nothing escaped the pro’s notice, did it? “Mrs. Kojima had brought some stuff, but I didn’t know if there would be a place to store it in, um, whatever room I’m staying in. Plus, Tadashi is always hungry because of his hero course training, so it’s not like any of it will go to waste.”

“You’ll starve yourself so some brat can stuff extras in his face?” the blond scoffed, and he looked at you like you were speaking another language.

“I won’t starve,” you argued, a nervous laugh huffing out of you. “I-It’s one meal, and I ate a big lunch.”

That was a lie, but maybe you could get away with a little one.

Dynamight studied you for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then the light turned green, and he clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

“Tch.” He flicked on his blinker and turned left, weaving down a set of smaller streets leading away from the city’s center, where you knew his agency was located.

“Where… are we going?” you asked as you glanced out the window. “Is this a short cut to the agency?”

“We’re not goin’ to the agency,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat, and some of your unease must have shown on your face, because the pro hero scoffed again.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re stopping to get food first.”

You blinked in surprise. Food? He was buying you dinner?

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” you stuttered, awkwardly waving your hands in front of you. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m fuckin’ hungry, so I’m getting food. That alright with you, Stitches?” His red eyes flicked to the side and pinned you to your seat, and all you could do was nod.

The car descended into silence again as Dynamight navigated through the streets, and a few minutes later, he was pulling up to a curb. The street around you was definitely in a better part of town than you were used to, but it didn’t look too fancy. A number of small restaurants dotted the road, interspersed by a couple bars, and a few dozen people roamed the sidewalks, laughing and stumbling and obviously having a good time.

Dynamight stared out at the crowd through the windshield, a small sneer of disgust curling his upper lip, before he turned to you.

“Stay here,” he said. No, ordered. “I’ll be right back, so don’t go anywhere.”

“O-Okay,” you replied with a nod.

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if trying to discern whether or not you were lying, but he must have been satisfied with what he found because he reached for the sunglasses that were casually thrown atop the dash. He slid them on before opening the car door and slipping out, but he paused before he closed it, bending down and poking his head back inside.

“Any allergies?” he asked bluntly. “I don’t need you choking and dying on my leather seats.”

“No allergies.” You shook your head. “Anything is fine.”

A part of you still wanted to argue about him buying you food, but something told you that you would both lose the argument and succeed in pissing the blond off, which you were trying your best to avoid.

Dynamight grunted in acknowledgement before he straightened, pulled up his hood, and slammed the car door. He took several strides away before he gestured back to the vehicle, and it was only when the locks engaged that you realized he’d taken the keys out of the ignition at some point.

He really didn’t want you going anywhere.

You exhaled shakily as you unclenched and clenched your fingers in your lap, trying to get some feeling back into them. Your thoughts kept threatening to spiral off down dark avenues, so you focused on watching the people outside the car. The windows were pretty tinted, besides the windshield, so you didn’t think people noticed you watching them go about their night. Everyone was happy and smiling, flushed with laughter and drink, and a yawning loneliness suddenly opened up inside you. Even back in America, you’d never had a lot of friends, but you had drinks a few times in college with classmates, and you missed going out to somewhere besides the grocery or craft supply store. You had thought you would have time to make new friends here in Japan, friends that you could try restaurants and bars with, but it hadn’t happened yet.

And depending on what Dynamight had to say, it might not happen at all.

You stewed in anxious silence for several minutes, but then the locks disengaged with a chirp, and the blond was sliding back into the driver’s seat, shoving a bulging plastic bag into your lap.

“Here, don’t drop it,” he muttered as he jammed the keys back into the ignition.

“I’ll just, um, set it on the floor,” you said as you shifted the bag down to the floorboards, holding it in place with your feet. The aromatic steam wafted out of the bag as you leaned over it, and your stomach snarled at the delicious scent of greasy meat and roasted vegetables. “This smells really good.”

“Of course it does,” Dynamight sneered. “I’m not gonna eat shitty food.”

“Only the best for the best,” you joked awkwardly. You blamed your sudden lightheadedness. When was the last time you ate?

“Damn straight,” the blond huffed, yanking on his seatbelt before shifting the car into gear. “Can you make it five minutes without fainting?”

“Yes?” you questioned more than stated, your brow furrowing.

“Good, then hang on.” With that, the pro hero squealed away from the curb, merging into traffic seamlessly.

Dynamight drove for several more minutes, but you didn’t ask where the two of you were going this time. The blond probably wouldn’t answer, and if he did, it would just be some kind of sharp retort, so you settled for staring out the window while making sure the food between your feet didn’t tip over.

You hadn’t explored the city very much since you moved here, so most of what you passed by was foreign to you. But, just judging by the amount of lights and traffic around, you estimated that Dynamight was skirting the edge of the downtown area instead of going into it. You knew the general location of his agency, since you panic-Googled it earlier this afternoon, and while it was closer, the pro hero didn’t seem to be driving toward it.

Eventually, Dynamight pulled up to the curb on an empty street and parked in the shadow of a tall office building. There was no sign on the façade to indicate a company, and only the dim emergency lights shone through the darkened windows, so it was obvious everyone had gone home for the day. Next door to the building seemed to be a small park, concrete and steel giving way to green grass and shadowed trees, but there was no one walking on this particular street.

“Where are we?” you asked as you frowned out the tinted window.

“Dunno,” Dynamight said before he opened his door, sliding out of the car without any more explanation.

You blinked in confusion as he wrenched open your door a moment later, but he still didn’t say anything as he bent down to pick up the bag of food at your feet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” you asked. “You drove us here.”

“By the time I answer all your questions, the food is gonna be cold,” the pro hero grunted, and he glared down at you still buckled into your seat. “Get out.”

“We’re not eating in the car?” You didn’t mean to ask this many questions, you could tell it was irritating the blond, but you were just so… confused as to how you got to this point in your life.

“I’m not about to let you ruin my damn leather seats,” Dynamight growled, stepping back to give you room. “Now get out of the damn car… please.”

The last word sounded like it was dragged out of the hero against his will, painfully, and you wondered again if he was trying to be nicer because of all the negative media coverage. You didn’t think the blond gave a shit what the media thought, but Red Riot and their agency did, so maybe Dynamight was being forced to make an effort.

“Are you seriously just going to gape at me like an idiot? Do your legs not work?”

Well, what was that saying? You could lead a horse to water, but you couldn’t force it to drink.

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered as you fumbled with your seatbelt, and you nearly twisted your ankle falling out of the car.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re as clumsy as shitty Deku,” Dynamight grumbled as he easily caught your elbow and kept you from faceplanting.

This close, you could smell the caramelizing sugar scent that you finally realized emanated from the blond, and even through the sleeve of your sweater, you could feel the strength in the pro hero’s calloused fingers.

Your face flushed with heat, but you were pretty sure he was tired of your stammered apologies, so you just stepped up onto the curb as he slammed the passenger door and locked the car.

Then he turned to the tall office building and froze before a scowl twisted his features once again.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, and his red eyes snapped to you. “You’re not afraid of heights are you?”

“I… don’t think so,” you said with a frown. “I mean, I’ve been on roller coasters before, and I obviously flew here from America—”

“Perfect,” the blond cut you off, shoving the bag of food at you again. “Take this.”

“O-Okayyyy?” You tentatively wrapped your fingers around the plastic handles of the bag as you drew the food close to your chest.

“Now, hop on,” he said as he turned around and crouched, his fingers starting to crackle with light and flares of heat.

“Wh… what?!” Your whole body felt hot this time, not just your face. “Y-You want me… to get on your back?”

“Again with the damn questions,” he growled, glaring over his shoulder at you. “If it will get you to move your ass faster, we’re eating on that roof, and unless you have wings under that sweater, I’m the only one who can get us up there, and I need my damn hands to use my quirk. So. Hop. On.”

You gaped at the blond for a millisecond, a thousand more questions racing through your mind. Why the hell were you eating on a roof of a random building? Was this allowed? Why couldn’t you just go back to the agency?

But you knew by the look on the blond’s face that he’d reached his limit with questions, so you could do nothing but comply.

Just don’t think about it. Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.

You kept up this mantra in your head as you hesitantly approached the hero’s back. He had turned to look forward again, so at least his crimson eyes weren’t burning a hole into you as you carefully slid one hand onto his shoulder while you used the other to cradle the food against your stomach.

You were just debating the best way to finish this embarrassing endeavor when you felt strong hands slide over the backs of your knees and pull you forward, startling a yelp out of you.

“Jump,” Dynamight grunted, and you only had time to mindlessly obey as he straightened to his full height in one fluid motion.

“Shit!” you couldn’t help but curse in English, hoping he couldn’t understand you. His hands helped to guide your legs around his waist, and you dug your left hand into his shoulder so you didn’t fall backward or crush the food that was nestled between the hero’s spine and your navel.

A beat passed in silence as the two of you found your balance again.

“I-I’m not too heavy, am I?” you murmured into the hero’s blond hair. Your throat felt tight with embarrassment, but when you went to swallow, your mouth was as dry as a desert.

“Tch.” Dynamight clicked his tongue as he shifted your weight a little, his hands burning the backs of your thighs even through the thick denim of your jeans. “I could carry two of you without breaking a sweat. Don’t call me weak.”

“I wasn’t!” you rushed to assure him. “I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, shut up,” the blond cut you off, turning his head a fraction so his red eyes sliced into you. At this distance, his burnt sugar scent was almost overwhelming. “Do you have a good grip on me? And the food?”

“Y-Yes,” you said as your heart began to pound against your sternum. You hoped he couldn’t feel it.

“Make sure,” he growled, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs before he suddenly let go.

A small gasp was ripped from you as you clenched your legs around his waist, and your left arm went from clutching his shoulder to wrapping around his neck.

“Ack! Don’t choke me!” he huffed as he stretched his throat out of the way.

Your right hand scrambled down a few inches, and you fisted the front of his hoodie, anchoring yourself across his chest as you sucked in your gut, leaned more into his spine, and tried not to crush the bag of food that was steadily making you sweat.

“I-Is that okay?” you asked, your voice no more than a timid whisper.

“Fine,” Dynamight said as he dropped his hands down by his hips, his palms crackling with energy once again. “Don’t fucking let go.”

“I wo—OHHHH!” Your sentence trailed off into a startled scream as the hero suddenly exploded off the ground.

His quirk made your ears ring, but you didn’t even have time to process that before you were thirty feet in the air. Every muscle in your body locked up in terror, and you were sure Dynamight was going to have bruises on his ribs from your legs clamping down around him like a vise. The wind tore at your hair and clothes, stinging the exposed skin of your face and neck, and you ducked your head against the hero’s blond hair as you clenched your eyes shut.

Don’t let go, don’t let go, you chanted in your mind.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and you heard Dynamight extinguish his quirk an instant before his boots slammed into concrete.

The two of you stood there for a moment as you panted against the back of his neck, your hammering heart still lodged in your throat, before the blond patted the side of your thigh.

“You can get down now,” he said. “But don’t drop the damn food.”

You peeled open your eyes with a shaky exhale, and you could feel your entire body trembling as you slowly slid down from the hero’s back. The crinkling bag drew your attention, and you had a split-second worry that you had crushed the food in your terror, but a quick inspection showed that while the containers were a little crumpled, no food was leaking out.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Dynamight muttered before his boots started to crunch away from you.

You snapped your head up and blindly followed after the blond, your eyes darting to the ground to make sure you didn’t trip over anything and then up to your surroundings to try and figure out where the hero was leading you.

The answer, apparently, was to the very edge of the roof, and you wondered if the hero was going to make you hop on the Dynamight Express again, but instead he came to a stop beside a large electrical box. To your shock, he opened a small door on the tall metal rectangle and produced a thick, dark colored blanket, which he then threw down on the roof’s gravel.

“Sit,” he grunted before he flopped to the ground, sighing as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

There was about four or five feet between the electrical box and the edge of the roof, but the soles of Dynamight’s boots nearly brushed against the roof’s wall.

Or they would have, if a three-foot section of the cement wall wasn’t missing right in front of him. The edges of the concrete partition looked suspiciously charred black, and you frowned at the sight.

“Did you… blast a chunk out of this wall?” you asked as you slowly sank to your knees beside the blond. You were painfully aware of the void of protection in front of you, and you knew you were at least ten to fifteen stories above the street. But at least it wasn’t so cold up here, tucked into this little nook with the six-foot tall hero’s body heat helping to warm the air.

“It was in the way,” Dynamight sneered, leaning over and snatching the plastic bag from where you had set it between the two of you. “And wipe that look off your face. I’m not gonna push you through the hole, and you’re not gonna fall with me here.”

He didn’t look at you as he said this, too busy pulling out several food containers and spreading them out on the blanket, but the absolute surety, the confidence, in his voice actually eased some of the tension from your shoulders, and you sighed as you shifted onto your butt and leaned back against the electrical box.

Now that you were seated in front of the hole, you realized this building gave you the perfect vantage point to the east. Most of the other structures were shorter than the one you currently sat on, so the streets stretched out before you like a map. The night sky was clear above you, devoid of clouds, nothing but a dark purple canvas sprinkled here and there with stars. But the moon was nearly full over your head, and its pale light was just enough to see by. You could see cars several blocks away cruising through the pools of lamplight, people waiting at bus stops or walking down the road to their next destination, and a realization came over you.

“Oh, I see,” you murmured, still staring out at the view. “You must use this building as a perch during your hero patrols, right? You can see a lot from here.”

“No shit.” Dynamight rolled his eyes as he opened one of the take-out containers. The smell of a well-made yakisoba hit your nostrils, and you watched as the blond ripped open a pair of chopsticks. He must have felt your gaze, though, because his red eyes snapped up and narrowed on you with a glare. “Quit starin’ at me and eat something. I didn’t go through all this damn trouble for nothing.”

“R-Right.” You cleared your throat as you glanced between the other take-out boxes. “Was there something for me in particular, or…”

“Just pick something!” he snapped before he shoved a bite of noodles into his scowling mouth.

You pursed your lips as you reached for the closest container, flipping up the lid to find nearly a dozen yakitori skewers. Your stomach snarled and cramped as the roasted scent of the chicken filled your nose, and you could feel saliva pooling in your mouth.

Grease immediately began to stain your fingers as you picked up one of the skewers, but you didn’t even care as you brought the kebab to your lips. You took a tentative bite to find the meat still pleasantly warm, but then a groan rumbled in the back of your throat as the flavor exploded across your tongue.

“Mmmm, that is so good!” you mumbled around a mouthful as you ravenously tore off another bite. “It’s seasoned perfectly, and I like the bit of spice it has.”

“Told you I don’t eat shitty food,” the blond scoffed before he reached over and snagged a piece of yakitori for himself.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you quickly covered it up by taking another bite of chicken.

“Thank you for the meal, Dynamight,” you said once you finished the skewer, reaching for one of the other containers. This one turned out to be another plate of yakisoba, and you eagerly pulled it into your lap.

Silence settled between the two of you for a minute, punctuated by the sounds of you both quietly chewing, before Dynamight broke it again.

“Katsuki.”

“Hmm?” you asked around a mouthful of noodles. When you lifted your head, your eyes clashed with glaring red ones barely two feet away, and you swallowed quickly so you wouldn’t choke. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“My name,” he grunted before ripping into another skewer, white teeth flashing in the pale moonlight. “It’s not Dynamight. It’s Katsuki Bakugo.”

Another hot flash broke out across your body as his scarlet eyes bored into you, and you dropped your gaze to your lap. The blond was too close, his burnt sugar scent still strong beneath the aroma of food, and your brain struggled to come up with a response.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” you murmured because you couldn’t help yourself, testing out the syllables on your tongue.

You thought you saw the hero twitch out of the corner of your eye, but he might have just been taking another bite.

“Yeah, and you better remember it,” the blond said after a moment, his tone adamant, commanding.

Like there was any way you could forget his name. Japan’s Number Two Hero wasn’t exactly forgettable.

You found it a little funny, though, that he was so weird about his own name after refusing to call you anything but “Stitches” so far.

“I will,” you murmured, darting a glance at Dynamight—Katsuki? No, that felt too familiar. Bakugo, then—to find him still staring at you.

The blond’s crimson gaze was piercing, pinning you to the spot, and you couldn’t look away. You thought he was going to say something, but his eyes only roamed over your face silently, like he was searching your features for an answer to a question he hadn’t voiced. His scrutiny unnerved you, made you fidget, and you played with your chopsticks to try and quell some of your nervous energy.

Still, he didn’t say a word, but his red eyes began to narrow bit by bit.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore, and you opened your mouth to say something, anything, before he beat you to it.

“You have a healing quirk.”

The words hit you like a sledgehammer.

Your heart slammed to a stop in your chest, and you inhaled so fast it was almost a scream. A million thoughts, excuses, and lies scrambled through your head, but the hero didn’t even give you time to grasp at any of them.

“Don’t deny it,” he said, face twisting into his usual scowl. “Fuckin’ hate liars. I know you have a healing quirk.”

The blunt confirmation, after so long worrying, felt almost like a relief, but it was quickly followed by a deluge of dread.

He knew, he knew, he knew. The truth blared through your head like a siren. There really was no running from it now.

“Well?” Dynamight—Bakugo—demanded as he glared at you. “Are you going to answer?”

“You didn’t ask me a question.” The words fell from your mouth without your permission, and you winced as the blond’s expression darkened.

“Fine,” he growled. “Do you have a healing quirk or not?”

“…yes.” There was nothing else for you to say, so you just stared at the pro hero as the noose tightened around your neck.

“I knew it.” A wild smirk stretched across Bakugo’s mouth, triumphant and proud.

“How?” you couldn’t help but ask as you clenched your hands in your lap, the food long since forgotten. Your stomach was churning itself into knots anyway, but a morbid part of you just had to know what was the final nail in the coffin that had sealed your fate.

“How what? Did I figure it out?” the blond asked as he lazily picked up another skewer and took a bite, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t hold your whole world in the palm of his calloused hand. “Because I’m not a blind idiot.”

“I’m serious,” you said with a frown, digging your nails into your palms.

“So am I,” Bakugo scoffed, and his red eyes found yours again. “If you’re going to lie, at least do it right. That night in your apartment, you said I wasn’t really hurt, didn’t bleed that much, but your hands and my clothes were soaked with it. Way too much for the stupid paper cuts or whatever you blamed it on. The burns on my left arm were better off than they should have been, too, but I knew you were lying before I even noticed any of that shit. I knew the second you opened your mouth.”

You cringed with guilt, dropping your gaze to your fidgeting fingers. So, all your lies had been futile from the start. “Was it something in my tone or…?”

“Well, stuttering over your words with your guilty ass face didn’t do you any favors, but no,” the blond grunted. “It wasn’t your tone, it was…”

Here, the pro hero trailed off, and he was quiet for so long that you chanced a glance at him.

Bakugo was frowning off into the distance, staring out over the city without seeing. You could tell he was struggling with something, and since you were obviously a masochist, you pressed him about it.

“It was…?” you led and then had to stifle a gasp as the blond snapped his head around to glare at you.

“You can’t say shit about this,” he snarled and bared his teeth like a cornered animal, and you distantly noted that his canines were more pointed and pronounced than what was usual. Then his next words stabbed into you, sharp and serrated, and dragged you back to the conversation. “Do you hear me, Stitches? You don’t say shit to anyone. If you do, I’ll kill you.”

You blanched at the seriousness of his tone, the sharpness of his eyes, and a nervous laugh was startled out of you.

“I’m obviously not in a position to say anything against you, Dyna—er, Bakugo,” you said, adding the “-sama” honorific after his name as a show of deference. “You could have me arrested or even deported for using my quirk on you without permission or a license.”

“Damn right I could,” he huffed as he narrowed his eyes at you, but some of the tension and anger left the lines of his face. “But I’m not gonna do any of that shit because I need—you are going to help me.”

“Help you?” you echoed in an incredulous tone. “What could I possibly help you with?”

Bakugo glared at you as the muscle in his jaw worked, like he was chewing over his words, before he finally spat them out.

“My ears. The reason I knew you were lying immediately was because I could hear you.”

Your frown deepened as you processed his words. “You remember losing your hearing?”

“Remember it?” The blond scowled at you. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I remember being fuckin’ deaf!”

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, waving your hands in front of you. “I just—right after you crashed through my window, you woke up for a second, but you were disoriented. I was trying to tell you that you beat the villain before I saw the blood coming out of your ears and realized you must have blown your eardrums. Then you passed out, and when you woke up again, a-after I… healed you, you asked about the villain a second time, so I just assumed you didn’t remember waking up the first time.”

Bakugo frowned at you, pale eyebrows furrowing over crimson eyes. “I woke up more than once? Yeah, I don’t remember that shit.”

“Wait…” You blinked and pursed your lips as you tried to understand what he was saying. “If you don’t remember that, how do you remember losing your hearing?”

“Because my hearing was shot to shit before I even ran into that damn villain,” Bakugo growled, and his face tightened again as he turned away from you. “Couldn’t even hear my quirk activate anymore.”

He held up his hand to demonstrate, and flashes of light crackled to life in his palm like mini fireworks. The hero’s expression grew strange as he stared at the visual manifestation of his quirk, but then he clenched his fist and extinguished the sparks.

Meanwhile, you felt your jaw gape open as your eyes widened. “You… how long has your hearing been in decline?”

The blond ground his jaw so hard you could hear the scrape of his teeth, and he glared off into the middle distance for so long that you just assumed he wasn’t going to answer you.

Then…

“Fuckin’ years, I dunno,” he muttered as he pulled one of his long legs up, balancing his forearm against his knee and pressing his mouth into the back of his wrist. “Didn’t notice it at first, but it probably started at UA, once I was able to use my quirk more regularly.”

Ohhh, of course. Your eyes dropped to the clenched fist in his lap, and you remembered the boom that made your ears ring as the hero flew you both up here. It had been so loud, and to think of experiencing that multiple times a day, at close range, for years apparently since you knew UA was a famous high school here in Japan…

“Did you see a doctor?” You frowned, glancing up at the blond as his gaze snapped back to yours.

“Tch, doctors,” Bakugo sneered, disgust glinting in his crimson eyes. “Fuckin’ useless pieces of shit. I left a good-for-nothing white coat’s office the afternoon I ran into that asphalt villain. Idiot doctor said most of my hearing was just gone, I was going to lose the rest, and there was shit all he could do. Then, few hours later, you patched me up in fuckin’ seconds, so I know that bastard was full of shit.”

All you could do was blink rapidly at the pro hero as you tried to process all this information. Japan’s Number Two Hero had been going deaf for years, and no one had noticed? You knew that would have definitely made the news, let alone the gossip magazines. What’s more, a doctor said his hearing was a lost cause, and yet…

“How well can you hear now?” you asked, curiosity getting the best of you. You hadn’t even intended to heal his ears that night, it had just been a side effect of you dumping your energy into his body in order to keep him breathing.

“Dunno, haven’t exactly done a hearing test,” the blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “But I can hear you just fine, my phone, too, and my quirk. I’d say that’s good enough.”

You pursed your lips in thought, studying the hero like he’d been studying you all night, and then you remembered what had started this whole conversation.

“Okay…” you said slowly. “Well, if you’re hearing is… fine now, what am I supposed to help you with?”

“Keeping it that way, obviously.” He glared at you. “You’re gonna be stuck at the agency for the next few weeks anyway, so you need to make sure my ears stay working.”

You gaped at the pro-hero, wondering if you were suddenly losing your hearing.

“M-Me?” you stammered as your heart crawled up your throat. “B-But I… I’m not a doctor.”

“No shit,” he said, apparently a favorite phrase of his, and he looked at you like you were a particularly dumb child. “I don’t need a doctor, I told you they’re fuckin’ useless. I just need your quirk.”

“But…” you trailed off in disbelief. Out of all the outcomes you’d envisioned for this night, this had never even crossed your mind as anything in the realm of possibility. “I’m… not a hero. I don’t have a license to use my quirk.”

Bakugo stared at you in silence for an endless moment before his upper lip curled into a snarl.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he hissed. “I know all that!”

“W-Well, I don’t know what you want then!” you said, your voice rising in pitch and volume to match his.

The echoes of your words ricocheted around you before they faded off into the night, and the blond clenched his jaw as he glared at you.

“I want you to use your quirk anyway,” he said, the low growl of his tone vibrating through you. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off mid inhale. “And don’t start bitching about rules. You’ve been using your quirk illegally already. That kid and his old hag of a grandma are patients of yours, aren’t they?”

Your jaw snapped closed with an audible click, and a smirk bloomed across the blond’s pale lips.

“Hah,” he snorted. “Knew it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you gritted out, and your breathing grew shallow.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his smirk taking on a taunting edge. “You really gotta work on your poker face, Stitches.”

Your vision started to tunnel, interspersed with flashes of Tadashi and Ayano’s faces. “The Kojimas have nothing to do—”

“Oh, calm the fuck down,” he cut you off as he rolled his eyes again. “I’m not gonna turn a grandma and a kid into the cops. Especially not for doing the same shit we’re going to do.”

A knot of tension unraveled beside your heart, but your insides still felt more tangled up than a yarn ball being batted around by a crazed kitten.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a sigh, dropping your eyes to where your fingers were picking at the frayed hem of your sweater.

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he scoffed. “I just need—”

“My quirk.” You were the one to cut him off this time, and you lifted your gaze to his again.

“Yeah,” he said as he narrowed those scarlet eyes at you like a predator zeroing in on its prey. “So, is that your way of saying you’ll do it?”

You bit your lip as you considered your options, but really, you didn’t have any. Dynamight was a famous, rich pro hero with all the leverage. He could ruin your life… but he wasn’t. He was instead providing a trade.

His silence for your quirk.

The Kojimas flashed through your mind again, as did your other “patients,” as the blond called them. You thought of your parents, too, and your grandparents. If you agreed to the hero’s proposition, you wouldn’t have to return to America as a failure, and after a few weeks, you could reopen your family’s legacy shop.

And, in the meantime, you still got to use your quirk. You could heal, actually be useful. Even more than that, Japan’s Number Two Hero was relying on you.

You didn’t know if you were up to the task, having never used your quirk beyond minor instances that were usually days or weeks in between each other.

But…

“Yes,” you finally said as you looked up into Katsuki Bakugo’s face. “I’ll help you.”

You just hoped you didn’t hang yourself in the process.

125 notes · View notes

alazyparallelworld · 2 years ago

Text

wish's personality is so prominent. when irritated, he does not 'growl' - he snorts. like a pig. you can pick him up, cradle him like a baby, and then go to town petting his tummy - and there is the softest snort. like a child going 'mommmm, stoppppp' re: a hug.

he is SO patient. wish is OK with mild irritation and he does not growl. his snorts just get louder. as in, 'oi! did you not hear me?' - the only times he's growled at me is when i needed to hold him still when he's panicked.

in particular - he was VERY socialized as a kitten. wish is so chill with people and animals, he doesn't! react to pet birds! SO smart - he gets the idea of what a 'pet' is, he gets the difference between a neighbor's bird vs a bird outside. dogs, too, and other cats...

BUT - circling back to growling/fear - when the fiber line was installed, that involved, like. drilling and machinery. it scared the shit out of him. now every time he meets a stranger, he assumes it's the Scary Man with a Loud Noise - when it's an important person, that he cannot hide from, i have to hold him. Again. like baby. pet him, reassure him, despite all the growling - and when the person approaches and he finally sniffs the person he's like Ohhhh okay. INSTANT relaxing

so, soooo friendly. he's so affectionate w/ everyone he meets, once he gets over the two-minute EXTREME FEAR - he goes up, sits, and is like. HEY. PET ME. CODDLE ME. pay attention to me!!! he ADORES my caregiver, follows her arnd, and flops arnd dramatically when he wants her to play w him. whenever the routine is broken, she doesn't come on [x] day, she's late, she leaves early, he gets upset... >:( ... he misses her

and he can be sassy. when he wants to lie down on a desk, and there is smth - ANYTHING - on it, in his way. goodbye! to the ground! and he lolls his head out, with a cattish smile. and if you put the item back up? PIG SNORT. knocks it over again, back to smiling.

god, HE'S SO. HE HAS SUCH A CHARACTER. just now i got up to check on food - and when i turned back to bed, he moved his head arnd, pressing it into the blanket - which is his way of saying, 'pet my ears! pet my forehead!! my chin!! give me!!' and he closes his eyes =w= afterwards.

i looove him... my funky, sweet cat... so smart, so personable, such a BASTARD. but he's genuinely so sweet and very often funny.

ALSO. YOU CAN TOUCH HIS BEANS! you can literally just, press them. squish the peets. and even separate the toes and tickle the webbing! when he goes into 'snort,' and, 'i've had enough,' he takes his leg back and curls in his toes. BUT. you can hold it, then play w/ his leg, like he's a doll... and he will unsheathe his claws... and he doesn't scratch. pretend threat. i think he likes it, lol, smth underneath his claws - he pretend-bites too, grabs onto an arm or whatever.. and just. he doesn't even put his fangs down. he's JOKING. never, ever, has he bit me - and he's only scratched me on accident, from being startled.

and he knows not to shred. he gets 'blood,' and he knows that it's bad - if you show him that you're bleeding from him being spooked mid-cuddle and he runs out w his claws, he gets D: and it's 50/50 if he's VERY CLINGY I'M SORRY or I'M SORRY IM GOING INTO MY SHAME CUBE.

Sorry im just cooing abt how cool and awesome my cat is.

the most patient. the most baby. the most BASTARD, while never actually like - damaging, things. when he destroys things [knocking over electronic toys >_>, and he used to shove off soda cans... at some point he learned Oh No, That's not Good, and he's more mindful abt them... still doesn't COMPLETELY care, tho, there's an invisible line of What is acceptable. ] ... plus when he's in 'bastard' mode, that usually means smth is wrong. "i can't find my toy!" "i'm hungry!!" "hey, the water thing fucked up!" or. "PLAY WITH ME!!!!!!"

#i ramble ★

4 notes · View notes

annaphoenix1994 · 3 years ago

Text

Masterlist Here:

Payback

Karen stood up straight as she looked down at Michael's lifeless body, grim satisfaction on her face. Mia's muffled cries could be heard now, the townsfolk that created the mob now staring at each other in the bloody aftermath. What have we done? What now?

A low groan could be heard. For a moment, Tommy and Karen thought it was Michael somehow managing to survive the brutal attack, but when they turned to focus their attention on the sounds of pain, it was originating from behind them, seeing a clear liquid splaying over Mia's bare thighs and pooling on the concrete next to her.

"Oh, shit..." Karen sighed, panic now consuming her face.

"What? What is it?" Tommy asked, his bat resting on his shoulder.

"Her water just broke."

"W-What?"

"Her water just broke, Tommy!" Karen shouted, now unaware that Michael had pulled the knife from his own back, slashing the throat of the unfortunate soul who seemed too curious over Michael's body, his throat the perfect target for Michael's comeback. Tommy wiped the splash of blood from his face as he now stood in shock, now realizing that Mia's cries for help was fueling his rage. He knew he had to do something, but he wasn't quite sure yet...

He stood for a moment in a panic as he watched Michael spring back to life. Michael had sustained so much physical damage that he even feels it, and the pain is an alien sensation to him, one for which he has no name. He does not like it.

The attackers were nothing more than a blur of motion around him, a series of fragmented images. Hate-filled eyes, bared teeth, hands wrapped tight around weapons... The remaining attackers pull back in surprise, shocked that the cowering creature they'd been in the process of killing now stands before them, pain-free and unafraid. The man who shot him five times - now had a blade stuck between his jaw as the knife pierced him from underneath, the blade nearly coming out of his eye... if only it was longer...

He turned to face one of the other attackers - a woman - who held one of his favorite weapons, a beautiful large knife. His back was facing Mia now as he effortlessly took the knife from the woman's hands, slitting her throat as if her neck was butter. He watched her fall to the ground before using the knife to create the masterpiece of his carnage.

Do I just go ahead and kill her? Tommy thought, looking down at her briefly, her eyes swollen with tears as she was in agony now. The baby, the evil spawn, was coming... It had to be destroyed... Tommy looked at her head, picturing a target on her temple. Just one good whack and she's gone...

Tommy knew he had to finish what he started. The original plan was to kill Michael, then Mia, as they felt they were much safer by killing Michael first as he was the biggest threat - and way more intimidating. Shouting, he raised his bat as he wanted to kill her. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and his adrenaline was pumping. You're done, girl. You're done...

He watched her brace herself for the impact, closing her eyes as she didn't want to watch her death coming to her. In an instant, Tommy felt as if his world had paused suddenly around him. The bat was still in the air, his grip still tight, but something felt sharp in his chest. It was a white-hot pain that was unfamiliar to him. He gasped silently, looking down to locate the source of the pain.

A knife - with a large, gore-stained strong hand grasped around the handle.

Michael had stalked up behind him and stabbed him in the chest - right between his ribs - by swinging his arm around his torso, getting leverage by using his other hand to push against his back, giving him no room to try to move away from the eight-inch blade.

Tommy knew he was doomed, but still wanted to put up a fight against him. He gripped Michael's wrist that held the knife, trying to pull the blade from his chest, but Michael's iron-like grip was like a vice. The knife moved a centimeter, but Tommy still managed to turn around, looking at the dark pits of the latex mask, seeing a faint image of Michael's eyes, but these were not the eyes he saw before the attack. These were the eyes of a killer, but mostly a man who had shown he was the ultimate alpha.

Michael removed the blade from Tommy's chest, pushing him down and picking up the bat Tommy had dropped, letting Tommy look up at him as he was about to kill him with his own weapon. Old Huckleberry was swung with such force, Tommy's chest caved in like a cardboard fort, splintering and breaking off a large majority of the bat. Tommy gagged and gasped for air, looking up to see Michael holding the remaining remnant of the bat above his head. Oh fuck, it's now a spear!

Screaming, the bat came down at rapid force, piercing Tommy's skull.

He stood in the middle of the street, breathing evenly and surveying the carnage before him. Assuring himself that nobody else was going to stand in his way of getting to Mia, he wiped his bloody palms on his coveralls as he approached her, kneeling down as he examined her as he released her from her restraints, wishing he could kill Tommy a hundred times over for how he had treated her. He saw the clear liquid pooled next to her, a new kind of panic washing over him as he put her arm around his neck before lifting her effortlessly. Easily ignoring the smell of gore on him, she cried into his shoulder, panting and gripping the material of his coveralls with the hand that was around his shoulders, the other hand clutching her stomach. "The baby is coming, Michael," She panted. "I-I'm so scared."

He carried her through the dark alleyways of the neighborhood - his childhood home in mind as for a second, he briefly forgot where he was going. His mind was in sensory overload. He had no idea what to do once he got Mia to a safe place. How long has she been like this? Is she dying? Is the baby dying? What do I do!

Instantly relieved, he saw two silhouettes rushing towards him, but for a split second, he became defensive again as he had assumed it was another attack coming for him, but once he saw Big John and Little John's panicked faces, he was relieved, especially knowing Little John worked as a paramedic and clearly had more medical experience than Michael did.

"Oh, my God!" Little John gasped, shocked at her appearance. "What have they done to you?!"

She didn't answer but pressed her head against the base of Michael's neck as she curled her legs towards her stomach, her body aching for relief as she suffered through another contraction. "Mia? Honey? There's an ambulance on its way," He assured her, growing nervous as he knew Michael was extremely protective of her, especially now in this state. "Has your water broken? How long have you been in labor?" He continued to ask, his paramedic instincts kicking in as Michael carefully knelt to the ground, lowering her to lay on her back as he knew that if she were to be moved even more, it could complicate things further.

"I-I don't know," She winced, searching for Michael's hand as his strength and touch was what she needed. "I remember it starting after the fire-"

"Fire? What fire?"

"That fucking Strode woman," Mia winced, suffering another contraction, gripping Michael's hand so hard, he began to wonder who truly had the stronger grip. "I've been beaten around all night!"

"Jesus," Little John panted, standing to his feet. "There's the ambulance. I'm going to get them to come over here! Your contractions are closer together now, you're about to have a baby, Mia." He said before running towards the paramedics.

Big John knelt next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder as Michael watched him carefully, looking for any threat. He trusted the John's, but after everything that had just happened, Michael wasn't taking any more chances. Sighing, he took off his mask, setting it on the ground beside him as he knew Mia found comfort in seeing his face.

Soon, a team of paramedics rushed through the back alleys of the neighborhood with a stretcher in their grasp, equipment ready to tackle the next series of events before them. Little John had also put on a pair of latex gloves as he helped his coworkers adjust her comfortably onto the stretcher, overlooking her in her current condition. Michael observed the situation before him, watching them like a hawk as they took verbal notes of their new patient to the authorities:

"GSW to the right thigh, immediate assistance as the patient has evidence of 240 (assault) and is in active labor," The paramedic spoke before pressing a button on his walkie-talkie. "10-4. 902H (in route to hospital) now."

"Michael, Michael," Big John said, putting his arm in front of him, stopping at his sternum as he had begun to walk towards the paramedics who were taking Mia to safety. He had to see for himself. He wasn't going to watch her be taken from him again. "Michael. She's in good hands. We need to get you taken care of too so you can be ready to be a father, okay?" He attempted to talk to him, seeing Michael's jaw clenched as he knew Big John was right. After a few minutes, Little John jogged back towards them, "She's lucky they got here when they did. She's in active labor now - said she might have the baby shortly after they get her to the hospital."

Big John sighed, "We need to get him help, too."

"Michael? Come on. Follow me."

He stood there, as stiff as a board, refusing to move. He didn't care about how bad his wounds were. He was not letting it set that she was just taken from him again. He hoped, for the Johns' sake, that she would be okay...

"Michael? Please? Once we get you taken care of, we'll take you to her, but you have to cooperate, Michael." Little John assured him, his nerves causing him to shake badly.

"Please, Michael?" Big John said.

"Do it for her."

#michael myers #james jude courtney #slasherfic #halloween2018

12 notes · View notes

joestarwhore · 4 years ago

Note

can i please request some more yandere josuke?

OF COURSE!

*ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+*

————————————

Yan!Josuke x AFAB!Reader (18+)

TW: crying kink, obsession, isolation, name calling & degradation, mentions of yandere!kira x reader themes, personality switch.

DISCLOSURE: i do not condone any of these behaviors, these are extremely unhealthy and not a situation you should ever be okay with being in!

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

Cry, little girl.

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

The walk on your at home was extremely cold, but that was exactly what you needed. It’s been a month since Kira was killed, & a month and a half since Kira used you as an example in front of the stand users of Morioh.

Your spine shivered at the thought of you on the ground with Killer Queens hand wrapped tightly around your throat, his other hand in position to click down on an invisible trigger. He had taken you hostage in front of everyone, right before he had went into hiding. He had gotten you right where he wanted you, giving you enough bodily damage to make you putty in his hands. All of this had happened because you were the only girl in Kiras entire spree to escape him. He was dead set that if he couldn’t have you, your beautiful hands and your body, then you simply would be a message to this who stood in his way.

You were actually on your way home from therapy, since the Speedwagon foundation had specially sent a therapist for you after the ordeal. Dr. Kujo met with you regularly to check on you, & to do some routine check ups on your wounds. You were often asked why you never let your sweet boyfriend Josuke heal your wounds, & people often asked Josuke the same.

What they didn’t know, is that you had another form of therapy at home.

You took a left turn down the street, the cold air bringing your mind back to the surface as you saw Josukes giant inherited house you both lived in together.

Josukes black silhouetted frame was outlined in the massive bay window, & you could tell he was watching you come to him. The corners of your mouth twitched into an excited smile, because you knew just what was waiting for you at home. You knew you’d hate it when it’d happen, of course. Josukes demeanor had changed after you were beaten, between the day to day and the bedroom activities he was an entirely new person. More possessive, more isolated, & a whole, whole lot more aggressive.

Your legs brought you to your front door, your keys fumbling with the lock to let yourself into the warm estate. The door swung wide, the living room greeting you with dark lo-fi records filling the airs sound. You looked around the corner to see Josuke still facing the window, and his hands resting comfortably in his pocket. Josukes frame resonated a dark energy, & you knew for a fact he knew you were there.

“Hey Jojo, i’m home!” You say over to him, putting your shoulder bag on the chair as you kicked off your sandals towards the end of the couch.

Nothing compared to the moment his head slowly turned and met your eyes with the obsession that you were still getting used to. The darkness that birthed inside your boyfriend was definitely out to play tonight.

“Welcome home baby, did you have a good time?”

You stretched out your hands and arms, your back arching along with them. “Eh, the same as the usual.”

Josuke turned around and faced you, his body slowly migrating over to yours. “Tell me what you talked about.”

“Could I do that later?? I’m kind of exhausted and i was hoping that w-“

Pink and Blue flashed in front of you in an instant. All of a sudden you were on your bed, with Josuke standing menacingly in front of you. “Did I fucking ask, little girl? Did i ask for your input?”

Josukes knee rested on your crotch, the top of it making direct contact with your clit. A gasp made its way out of your throat as you gripped the sheet in anticipation.

“You talked about him didn’t you?” Your heart froze yet beat faster at the same time. “Did you talk about how you get so cute and flustered when your soulmates hand goes anywhere near that pretty throat?” His hand slapped your cheek with a sharp smack, his fingers holding your face still. “Or how wet you get when I open those gashes for you. Or maybe you told him how your biggest fantasy is to be raped by him?”

Your mind was a fog with a little siren telling you that he’s making you believe what he’s saying and it’s not what’s happening, but you didn’t care. “No, I only talked about that night.”

Crazy Diamond punched you in the thigh, the 7 inch long cut reopening and bleeding onto the bed as you screamed in pain. “Thats bullshit and you know it,” he said as he put your legs in a mating press, teasing you with his hard on pressing into your sensitive core. His breath danced on your neck as you felt his lips graze over your neck. “You were fucking terrified. I saw your eyes, the pining for me to save you.”

Tears started to well in your eyes.

Josuke let out a dark, manic laughter, “That’s right, go ahead and cry little girl.” Josuke but the soft part of your neck hard enough to make you scream, the pain and pressure making your body convulse up and press against Josukes chest. His long tongue dragged over the wound, quietly comforting you with his sick, twisted words.

“Do you remember what I did after that, baby? I saved my sweet girl & i made that bad man go away.”

As sadistic as he is now, he risked everything to save you. You had never seen Josuke so driven to do something, CD’s speed that day not even Kira could fight. After the final punch, you remembered that Jotaro, Okuyasu, and Koichi were running for Kira while Josuke was running with you back to his house. Honestly, that was the day he changed. His demeanor was completely dark after dressing your wounds, quiet since you wouldn’t let Crazy D heal your body. You wanted the reminder. It DID happen.

Josukes lips rested on your temple as he gently tugged down your sweats & underwear, cold air hitting your core and making you suck in through your teeth. Josuke cooed in your ear as he told you sweet nothings, making your back arch and your breasts touching his chest.

“Awh you are just too cute, sweetie.” Josuke tugged off his pants that let his 7.5 inches spring free. “My pretty little girl will always be safe as long as she’s with me.”

And with that, Josuke bottomed out deep inside of you.

The moan you released triggered something feral inside of Josuke, your breathing labored as his hand gripped your neck to give him control. His speed against your g-spot made your body convulse around his dick and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

You whined against his shoulder as your stomach built up a knot. Josuke gripped your hair and tugged your head back and met you eye to eye, “No, no baby you look at me, are you gonna cum?? You wanna fucking cum??” His assault on your g-spot became harder, the pleasure coursing through your body making you cry out for josuke.

“Josuke -oh fuck- honey please please ple-“

“Please what baby, you wanna come?!”

Tears ran down your eyes from overstimulation, “YES JOSUKE PLEASE LET ME CUM!!”

And with that, Josuke rapidly bottomed out until your whole body convulsed with an orgasm, letting himself finish inside your heated core.

Josukes breathing was labored along with yours, and his hands stroking your cheeks as he gives you sweet praises. “Good girl, you’re my sweet baby arent you?? My sweet precious angel, no body does it like you do.” Your boyfriends strong arms lifted you up, and put you & himself under the sheets. Your naked frames spooned each other and the sensation of a forehead kiss swept through your body.

“I’ll always come to your rescue. Whether you need me or not, I will always be there. You’re mine, (Y/N). There’s no escaping me, and sure as hell no one is taking you from me.”

Your head rested against his chest as you let out a slow deep breath. “Yes Josuke, I understand. I’m not going anywhere.”

Josuke darkly chuckled as he lightly tugged on the studded necklace he got you for your birthday, his lips pressing against your head. “Good answer baby.”

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

#jojos bizzare adventure yandere #n/s/f/w jjba #yandere jjba #yandere josuke #diamond is unbreakable #josuke higashikata #crazy diamond #yoshikage kira

125 notes · View notes

blossommoonwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Rich husband, poor wife ~ Chapter 01.

Fandom: Beyblade (original) Genres: Angst/Romance Setting: Alternate universe Main characters: Yamashita Kane, Yamashita Katsumi- earlier known as Inumaki Katsumi [OC] Pairings: Kane/Katsumi [OC] Summary: The most unfortunate woman married the one she desired, but things went for a havoc when she was five months pregnant. Would it trigger her to get reminded of her tragic past or just move ahead? Would he be able to sooth her? Guide: Every flash back starts after three consecutive dots horizontally and ends w/the same indication. WARNINGS: This story is super-angsty w/MATURE content references, LEMON/SMUT (sex scene), some SWEARINGS and WEIRD behaviors. YOU ARE WARNED [Warning applicable for BOTH the chapters together].

Chapter 01

(Read on FanFiction.net)

It was all deep down despair, solitude, melancholy and pain. None can understand how dreadful the ambiance was. It was a mixture of all negative emotions. It was not the saddest but definitely a sad moment which could make them feel terribly pathetic. She had to endure all the unfairness. She felt like being cornered. She felt that nobody was for her support except him. But, they just live to support each other, even during the most crucial times. However, that time seemed to be a very bad omen for them. They felt like they can't take the unfairness anymore. They had enough and more. They don't have the space and time to endure anymore pains. She was just done. She wanted happiness, acceptance and a good inner peace. She had none of them. They were just going amidst all the hardships, strive to keep their mental stability and be happy with each other, but all those were ruined in an instant. How long can they struggle? Don't they have excessive problems to deal with?

The breeze from the hospital windows maintained everyone's cool. But, there aren't so many people now. There was just a tall man, whose eyes were hidden by his long blue bangs, both thick and thin. His hands were loose and studying from his body language, he seemed lifeless. His hands, his fingers and his body…. They moved no inch. He was in a very deep emotional state. He felt emotionally and psychologically scarred. He got reminded of all dreadful things which happened to her.

'Why does this have to keep happening to her every time? What sin did she commit? Why is an innocent woman pitted with all the worst type of problems? Why?'

His right palm soon formed a fist out of rage. Before he could do anything more, the door opened. There came a lady doctor wearing a pair of spectacles holding a relieved expression.

"Sir, your wife and your baby is all safe and sound. I have treated all her injuries. She is still a bit unconscious, but there is nothing to worry about."

The man was relieved. He was glad that both of them were safe, despite he didn't cast that in his demeanor.

"Can I see her?" he asked in a polite yet low-pitched voice.

"Sure."

Kane followed the doctor inside.

"Well sir, I am extremely sorry for what happened. I know that our chief doctor does have a personal vengeance against you. I never expected that your wife waited for two hours and to also get beaten by his men."

"It's okay; it was not your fault at all. The gynecologist in our hospital was on leave today, so she had asked my wife to consult you. You don't have to feel guilty about this ma'am; Infact, I owe you one for saving my wife's life."

"Thanks for understanding sir, but there was mistake on my side too."

"It's okay, it's all over now!" Kane gave a fake chuckle. The doctor did discover that it was all fake because who would chuckle when their loved one is all suffering?

As they entered, he saw his unconscious wife who was five months pregnant, lying on the bed. She was exhausted, pale and beaten up. There were bandages and plaster at some places, especially on her forehead. Kane was feeling extremely pathetic.

"Well sir, this is the MRI scan of her brain. Thankfully, there is no brain damage either," she showed the X-rays to him.

"But we checked her brain waves. They are slightly abnormal though."

"No, she was already diagnosed for having hypertension. But she is recovering."

"Fine sir, no problem. Feel blessed that she is actually fine. Poor she; doesn't deserve this."

Kane hung his head down for a moment. He just heard, but never saw it. What if he had actually seen her getting beaten?

"And I was just checking the ultra sound. I haven't completed it yet."

"Would you like me to stay out?"

"No sir, you can just stay by her side."

"Oh, thank you very much. I want to be with her after what all happened."

"Definitely! Just sit on the chair beside her."

Kane went and sat beside her. He held her supple palms and gently clasped his fingers on hers. Suddenly, her eyes opened slowly. She felt a sudden thud after looking around.

"Katsumi!"

The woman looked at her blue-haired husband. Her voice was filled with fear, "Anata, what happened to me?"

"You are alright, so why are you worried now?"

"Please tell, what happened to my child?!"

"Excuse me ma'am, your child is all good. I am going to do an ultra sound, so please cooperate."

Katsumi sighed for once.

"Yes, I remember what happened. I was waiting for two hours and then…. Welp, I know. I don't want to say it."

"Just calm down for a minute, let's talk about this later," he assured and rubbed her hand.

"Pull up your top, please? Or do you want me to do?"

Katsumi was about to reach but Kane stopped her.

"Don't strain yourself."

Kane reached to her top and lifted it gently. Her belly was exposed. He felt unbearable when he saw a few bruises and bandages on the cuts. The gel was applied and the transducer was placed. The doctor moved the wave-producing probe gently. Kane's eyes were fixated on the screen.

"See, that's the child's heartbeat. It's safe and alive. But if something similar to this happens again, your child will lose its life. It's a blessing that it's all alive. The position has changed a bit but no worries, it won't affect the child."

Despite the good news, Kane shed some tears. He rested his forehead on her hands with the tip of the nose gently caressing it.

"Don't cry… please."

The doctor felt so sorry for them. She felt a pang of guilt.

Kane released his head and turned back to the computer. As a doctor himself, he would indeed observe the images carefully whenever they come, but this time he couldn't. He wasn't able to protect neither his wife nor his child. He felt guilty the most.

Katsumi had a terrible life. Her life was all lonely, rejection and remorse. Her life wouldn't have been half better if Kane never came to her. She had to live with little money after completing her P.G. in medicine. Worst part is… she never got a job in medical field. She was rejected everywhere. She started working in an underpaid company where she couldn't even get the perfect amounts for proper expenditures. She had to live an extremely simple life. Sometimes, she had no food. She had no proper clothes. Her father didn't give two shits about her after finishing her studies in University. She was ostracized. She couldn't live the life she deserved. It all happened too fast. Kane just recollected all of them and his heart couldn't take all of that anymore.

The only thing which warmed his heart at the moment is their child. He looked at the monitor and gave a soft smile.

"The child sure looks like you both. See how cute it is!"

Kane gave a soft nod. Katsumi didn't react but sighed.

The ultrasound was done. Katsumi gently got up. She couldn't walk perfectly, thus Kane held her.

"Are you able to walk ma'am? Do you want to get admitted here?"

"It's okay, I can. Please, this place is indeed a horror for me. I would get traumatized if I stay here further. Don't feel bad, but sorry."

"Ah- I understand. You can go home then! It's not an issue."

"Are you sure Katsumi?" Kane asked her.

"Yes, I am fine."

The doctor requested Kane, "Please take care of her at home sir. The fault all lies on me and my friend from your hospital."

"No, there wasn't fault from your side!" Kane replied nervously.

"Uhh, I have to accept a part of the fault as well. Well, I would like to hand over the reports. Extremely sorry for inconvenience; the monthly check-up was supposed to be smooth, but it went for a hassle. Welp, hassle might be an understatement in your opinion. Anyways ma'am, do you feel uncomfortable?"

"Not that much, but I feel that my heart rate is a bit rapid."

"It's not an issue ma'am. Pregnant women do have a fast heart rate. But if it sounds like an issue, we can have a quick check-up if you want."

"Sure; but can my husband check me? Do you mind?"

"Yeah of course, he has been working as a consultant here for a few years before our chief doctor broke ties with him! And I am not going to deny your requests at this moment."

Kane nodded his head.

"I did bring my briefcase here. Just take her to the checkup room; I have kept that in the reception."

The doctor nodded and took her there. Katsumi was made to sit on a chair. Around a few minutes later, Kane returned with his bag and sat opposite to her.

"Lend me your right hand."

She gently lent her hand. He pressed his three middle fingers against her wrist and kept the thumb finger for support.

"Well, her pulse is a bit fast but it doesn't matter. It's pretty okay for a pregnant woman."

Kane gently released his fingers from her.

"Do you feel like your heart is throbbing?"

"Yes, I do."

Kane took the stethoscope from his bag. He got up and went beside her. He fixed the earplugs and held the tube connecting to the chest piece, "Just relax and don't strain yourself. Breathe deeper if you can."

Kane placed the chest piece on her heart. Katsumi took a deep breath in. Yes, he could hear all her rapid heartbeats and breaths. For a moment, he dozed off. Her heart conveyed so many things. It was wallowing for their child. So sad and fast it was. He drifted back to his memories… the time he met her first.

"Excuse me Doctor Yamashita, are you free at this moment?" a nurse asked.

"Yes, but I will have to go home in another half an hour, not beyond that. I have an important meeting today."

"Oh okay, but a patient has come for a quick health check-up. Dr. Maki is on leave. She was supposed to do that. Probably you can finish it off."

"Sure. Ask them to come in."

A brown-haired woman in her late twenties entered the room. From her body language, she seemed a bit nervous. Her hazel green eyes were bent down. She looked pale, glum and sad. Her apricot skin-tone is now paleness.

"Excuse me?"

She looked up straight and responded, "Y-y-yes sir."

"Come and sit ma'am. But remove your coat and keep your handbag on the bed right there."

"Sure."

'She sounds a bit sad. What happened to her?'

"I-I have come for a mild body check-up. Nothing much, I am just feeling more drowsy as I was before."

"Hmm… okay. Well ma'am, I have an important meeting today, shall we finish this up fast?

"Oh, then sorry for interrupting, we can have this later.

"Its okay, I will be able to finish this fast if you cooperate."

"Okay sir, then thank you."

"Well, tell your name and age please."

"I am Katsumi Inumaki, twenty seven."

"I see, I barely meet people who share my age," he said as he wrote her name on the paper. He asked for a few other details.

He lit the torch on her eyes, slowly bought her eye lids down. For no real reason, she didn't feel uncomfortable a bit despite he was a stranger to her. He checked her pulse, felt her skin and so on. She found him extremely gentle, polite and calm. He didn't take advantage of her being a lady patient. That's what she liked in him.

"Just sit straight ma'am, I am going to steth you. Just feel relaxed, this is a full body stething."

"Yes sir."

After pugging the ear plugs, he placed the chest piece on her heart. He suddenly felt a pang of sadness. He has never heard any heartbeats being this melancholic.

'Why are her heartbeats so sad too? Who really is this person? Why is she giving me sad vibes?'

He felt scared for a moment too.

'It's really soothing and peaceful, yet so sad. It's pretty slow yet hard. Who is she?'

"Doctor, do you feel that there is something wrong with my body?"

"Ah, not at all, I found your heartbeats to be soothing, that's it," he responded to her nervously.

"Oh."

"Just stay quiet for a while ma'am. You are definitely cooperating; just maintain this." She nodded her head.

It took another three minutes to complete the full body checking. He checked her blood pressure, height and weight as well.

"Hmm, your weight is perfect for your height, but your skin doesn't seem really healthy. You look pale. Your hair density seems so less for your age. Consider checking your thyroid and Hemoglobin. Do you eat well?"

"Uh well sir, I am having some problem with my expenditures so I can't meet my expenses perfectly at the moment. Thus I have less food at home."

"Oh; isn't there anybody to help you out?"

"Unfortunately, none; I had some problems with my family for the past few months. I don't really have trusted people to help me now."

'What, the f- she has no family to help her out!'

"Hmm, I am extremely sorry for your state. I mean, your health isn't the worst, but I think you are still a bit below the perfect level of health. It's not a huge margin but still telling. Please, don't feel bad for this."

"Its okay sir, thanks for taking the time. I really owe you one. I tried to book for a health check-up in other hospitals but I couldn't."

"I see."

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"That's with the check-up ma'am."

"Well then sir, it's time for you as well. I will have to go."

"Oh, sure! I will hand over the results to the nurse. You can wait outside near the reception."

"Fine then, thank you very much. I owe you one."

There was something really behind her acknowledgement. He felt it from her voice. 'Does she really owe me one?'

"Not a problem, you can definitely approach me anytime," he replied with a gentle smile.

Katsumi was waiting in the reception. She saw Kane giving all the reports to the receptionist. Before he left the hospital, he smiled at her briefly. She smiled back softly.

'Well, he does care.'

"Her heart rate is just fine," he said. He continued to steth her on her chest while she kept taking mild breaths. Finally he pulled out the ear plugs and kept the instrument back on the bag.

"But it was fast!" She grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest, "You can feel it, right?"

"Of course I do feel it but it's okay! I am just telling that it doesn't matter! You trust me right?"

Katsumi nodded her head.

"Let's go home and take some rest. I don't find any issues besides the external injuries."

Kane helped her to get up. The doctor let them not pay, but Kane didn't listen. He still paid for the treatment, thus leading the consultant to reluctantly accept the payment.

"Understand; it's not your fault. Kindly accept the payment."

"Well then sir… thank you very much for cooperating."

Kane helped Katsumi walk out of the hospital.

"You'd want to sit at the back?"

"No, I'd want to sit beside you. I am fine."

"Well, okay then."

The drive was a pretty slow and smooth one, but awkwardly silent. She had her face a bit turned away from him. To break the silence, Kane asked her, "Did you have lunch?"

"No, I didn't. I came here at 12:30 p.m. but to wait for another two hours."

"Oh, I get it. Don't worry, we'll reach home soon."

"Anyways, I am not hungry either."

"No, you shouldn't skip! You haven't had anything for around six hours. Understand that you are pregnant. Our child must be hungry too!"

"Well, I never said I want to skip though. I am just thankfully not hungry at this moment."

"Hmm."

There was a silence again. She looked out from the window.

Kane felt utterly sorry for her.

"Katsumi, I am really sorry for what happened. I guess I should have come with you to the check-up, but I had a very important diagnosis today."

"I wish if you had come too, but you had your job. I can't blame you."

"No, I was unable to protect you and our child. It's a blessing that you both are safe."

Katsumi sighed and rested her head further.

"I didn't have my lunch either." Kane said.

"Why? Didn't I send you the packed lunch?"

"No, you did send me but right at 2:40 I heard that you were beaten. Thus I had to come all the way along."

"Oh okay, but please don't take me there anymore. It's giving me a lot of trauma."

"Sure, I won't, okay?"

"Yes."

Her responses were glum too. She is a sad person, who turned sadder. Kane never saw her being this sad. He had no clue on how to approach her.

They reached home in around fifteen minutes. Katsumi was fast asleep during the last few minutes of the ride. Thus Kane had to lift her in bridal style. Of course, she was indeed really heavy, but he didn't care. He bought her in and gently placed her on the sofa. He panted and gasped widely.

'Hnn, how can't I expect a 5 month pregnant woman to be this heavy?'

Kane switched on the geyser. It would take some time for the perfect temperature to be set, so he went to the kitchen and arranged for the lunch. He had to heat them because they have turned too cold.

Kane took a bath and entered their bedroom. He opened the cupboard and pulled out Katsumi's bath towel and bath robe.

He slowly went to her and gently slapped her cheeks.

"Katsumi, wake up. Go take a bath."

Katsumi mumbled and woke up.

"Come, I will take you."

Kane took her to the bathing room.

"Help me remove my dress, my hands hurt."

"Sure."

He dropped her ponytail on her left shoulder and removed the zip and the top. She whined when her hands had to be strained a bit. Finally, that leaves only her brazier.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, it doesn't pain. Unpin my bra, please?"

He unpinned her brazier.

"Thank you, I will take that off. Just remove my ponytail, I want a hair bath."

"Sure."

He gently removed the ponytail. Few strands of hair fell off, but he put them in the dustbin.

"Thank you, I am going to pull my bra out and strip myself. Can, you go?"

"Yes, I will go! Sorry…"

Seeing her naked was not something new. They've had sex for once since they got married. He has done echocardiogram for her weeks since they got married and she had to half-strip herself; but yes, it was not the time for him to lust over her.

Despite it took quite some time for her to bathe, he patiently waited for her to come. He was so hungry, but his mind was so desperate to eat with his wife.

She came with her hair all wet and the robe concealing her pregnant figure. She swayed her head with her eyes closed while wiping her hair with the towel. Yes, she was so beautiful. He got so captivated. She was so sexy, indeed.

"Were you able to wear the robe?" Kane asked as he bought the dishes all hot.

"Yes, I just found that my hands are fine enough for clothes," her voice was dull again. She didn't bother to look at him either, but instead went to the room.

"Still, don't strain yourself. Do you want me to help?"

"Nope," she shrugged and went inside. She locked the door.

Katsumi sobbed. She couldn't control her tears. She wanted to cry. She doesn't want to cry in front of her husband. She leaned against the door, cried over and over again, dragging the back along the door surface and finally sitting down. She placed the palm on her hollow mouth, closed her eyes and cried. Cry, and just cry.

Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the room. She was wearing a green tank top with black skinny three-fourths.

'Is she trying to seduce me?' He was all red and crimsons.

"What happened? Why are you so zoned out?"

"Well, uhh…. Nothing; you are looking so beautiful. Your cheeks are so glossy."

"Hmm? Are you trying to flirt with me?"

"No, nothing!" he gave a nervous chuckle.

"Look dear, I am not in a good mood at all. So please, leave me alone."

"As if I have no clue about what happened to you. I am just trying to make you feel alright."

"It's okay, don't need please. You don't understand my mood. When a person is in a bad mood, don't disturb them for a while. They would find it annoying when they are pestered. It's better to speak to them when they are in a better mood."

"Okay, sorry then. I am not telling anything."

'I tend to flirt with her like these. She just chortles at them. I thought she could be a bit relieved, but no. Well, I guess she needs some time. In hospital, she wants me beside her and she refused to sit at the backseat when I suggested. Then why does she not want me to help her out? Katsumi, are you angry with me?'

"I just have one thing to tell. Have your lunch immediately. Its four thirty already. Please, don't show your anger on hunger. Eat for our child's sake."

"Okay, I get it."

Katsumi gave an irritating sigh and sat on the chair. When Kane was about to help her, she said, "I will take care."

Kane stopped, but yet stood. Katsumi took her time to sit comfortably. Kane served.

"I will cook from tomorrow, you rest."

"Are you sure?"

"Why, don't you trust my cooking skills? I have cooked and you have acknowledged me in the past."

"Well uhh… it's your choice then. I have nothing to tell."

Kane felt a bit frustrated. He felt that something was off. He felt whether she is trying to trigger him.

The lunch lasted in a very awkward silence. Neither of them was feeling right. Kane's heart was scarred on what happened to his wife and their unborn child, but he wants to cast a bright demeanor. He ultimately failed in soothing her.

The lunch finally ended at 5:15 p.m.

Kane was also working as a professor for U.G. students in a medical college, thus he was preparing for a lecture in the computer room. Katsumi did nothing, but just sat idly in their bedroom. She seemed lifeless, emotionless and heartless. She was lying on the bed, fixating her glances only on the ceiling. She meddled with her phone, read a book, cried, sobbed, slept and meddled with the phone again. Finally, she was asleep again.

After Kane was done with the preparations which finally ended at 7:00 p.m. he went to their bedroom. A book and her phone were lying beside the sleeping pregnant woman. The same place where she slept the day he bought her….

He recollected the time when they met each other for the second time…

It was a hectic day. Kane had to check a lot of patients that day. He kept his briefcase and documents at the backseats and closed the door. That was the time when Kane didn't start working as a college professor yet.

When he was about to leave, his gazes turned towards someone familiar. It was her, the same woman who consulted him for a medical check-up. But there was something wrong. Her eyelids were half closed, her breaths were labored and her posture was leaning towards the ground. She held her forehead with her hand.

Kane immediately ran to her without giving a second thought. She fell on the ground almost, but he caught her.

He slapped her cheeks for a few times.

"Damn it, she is terribly unconscious. And I have no water here. I have no option other than taking her home. It isn't far either."

He lifted her up immediately. He noticed how light weight she was. She doesn't even seem to weigh as much as she was before. He couldn't believe that she has lost quite some weight since the check-up. It has been just a week, that's it.

It would take a long time to open the hospital main door and the keys have been taken by the chief doctor. Thus he took her home.

Kane let her lie down on his bed. He bought some water and sprinkled it on her face. She flinched and opened her eyes slowly. A sudden thud jolted inside when she saw the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Where am I? And, aren't you…"

"Yes, I am Dr. Kane Yamashita. You fainted around our hospital. But the keys weren't there thus I bought you to my house."

"Oh, thank you very much. And sorry for troubling you, I will get home by myself."

"No ma'am, please wait. I wanted to talk to you a bit. You seem to be in trouble."

"Well… sure."

"Do you want to rest a bit?"

"Its okay. I am a bit shy to sleep on others' beds. Can we talk somewhere else?"

"Sure, we can!"

Both of them went to the living room. They were sitting opposite to each other. A young boy bought a cup of tea and some biscuits.

"Have something to eat miss!"

"Thank you dear. Well, is he your brother?"

"Yes, my cousin brother. He has come here for vacation."

"I see."

"Eat something first, let's talk then."

"Nii-san! Can you help me take the feather cock from roof?"

"Sure, I will."

"Come fast!"

"Well, just wait for five minutes. I will be back ma'am."

"Sure."

"Please hurry up Nii-san! You are so slow!"

"You are too fast! You aren't letting me speak with a woman!"

"She is too soft for you!"

Katsumi couldn't help chuckling at them. During the said gap, she finished eating the biscuits and drank the cinnamon tea. She is a bit shy to eat in front of others as well. Since she doesn't socialize much, she grew out to be timid.

It took around ten minutes for Kane and his cousin to return.

"Sorry, I guess I crossed the five minute deadline."

"It's okay, that wasn't like a deadline."

"Hmm. Well, I really wanted to ask about your life and why you are like this. Do tell me. Feel free to be open. Think of me as a friend and tell me everything."

Ever since the check-up, he kept thinking about her. He got a few nightmares on where she kept asking for his help. He was heavily disturbed by her. Even during the meeting after the check-up, he kept thinking about her. He was entirely distracted. She dominated his thoughts. He really wanted to relieve himself by understanding her problems. Thus, he will ask this once and for all. He wants to stop worrying about. Yes, he does care.

"Humm… it all started like this. I successfully graduated from my high school. I was preparing for Medical entrance examinations during my grade 11 and grade 12 years."

"Wait… you work as a doctor? You said you were preparing for medical entrances."

"No sir. I haven't come to the part yet."

"Sorry then, you can go ahead."

"However, I got a pretty decent mark. I was not really a scoring student but not a bad student either. But, my father…"

"What happened to your father?"

"My father was actually a criminal who was involved in violence. Both my parents were the earning members of our family. For years, we didn't know that my father was part of a secret terrorist organization. He was finally caught while trying to attack high level organizations."

"Wait, do you mean?" Kane was shocked.

"Yes, I hope you have heard about the criminal called Inumaki right? I am his daughter."

Kane felt a pang of thud.

"Don't need to freak out, I am no longer part of the family and I wasn't even involved with his crimes a bit. However, he was assassinated for his crimes."

"Damn, I almost got scared." Kane sighed. He has heard that the criminal was really dangerous.

"But my family does hate me and resent me. After my father's death which happened when I finished my post graduate in diagnostics, my mom ostracized me from the family. However, I went and stayed with my grandmother but she died two months since I started being with her. I didn't have a job during that time. I was totally neglected by my peers throughout my school and college lives."

"Ah man, that's so hard to hear. It's really hard to be left out. I never knew our life was this hard."

"Now, it's been four months since I have joined an underpaid company with which I can get only minimal food and essentials. For the crimes my father committed, I was rejected everywh-" she started to sob. Kane couldn't feel sorrier. He understood that she had nothing to do with her father's misdeeds. He didn't hate her for being the daughter of a criminal from whose family she isn't part of anymore.

"I never knew that you were his daughter because a lot of them have the Inumaki surname. And the criminal you were talking about is someone I felt extremely indifferent to and didn't explore much, so I wasn't shocked when you told me your name for the first time." His expressions were pure, genuine and soft. He pitied her.

"I understand everyone hating me, but I was resented and despised by my family too. They all had high achievers and aimed at medical, engineering or any other highly dignified courses. I had my own passion, my hobbies and creativity but none of them welcomed that and considered them as a taboo- welp." She sobbed,

"It doesn't make sense. I mean, do they hate you for silly things?"

"Not that alone… most of my relatives actually hated my father. Since I was born as his daughter, I am being hated for that. I have a brother too, but he isn't hated because has been living in London since his school life. He studies there. He doesn't share so much connection with us, so he is not really considered much either. He lives with my aunt and her sons. They don't interact with this side of our family that much in all honesty. Even my aunt is struggling to meet expenses for the family ever since her husband passed away."

"You know… I absolutely have no words or I don't know how I could immediately react because I wonder- like h-h-how I would have turned out if I was in your shoes. It's really pathetic to leave a woman alone in crisis. Really, what are they even thinking about themselves?"

"They never change. They don't matter to me anymore. I was barely loved, I almost forgot what it is to love and I have spent my life as a lonely wench. I have no other emotions other than sadness. My life went for a havoc. I wonder if anybody would help me. I don't want to force anyone into this."

"You said that you did both UG and PG for medicine. How were you accepted during your PG years?"

"Well my father was not discovered to be a criminal back then."

"I get it."

"But yeah, a lot of injustice happened to me. Some of my relatives are actually part of the Japanese medical council. They gave away free seats to students who almost scored the same marks I did. They were friends with a lot of families which had candidates. However, they blackmailed my father- either; pay more or no medical seat. This sounds silly, but there is a big story behind this. How can they show any personal vengeance during an unbiased selection? Like, how?"

"Man…. This is so unfair! I can't understand that you had to take in a lot of unfairness in your life! Really, I am extremely sorry for your state. I am feeling ashamed that I was selected by those same members!"

"No sir, you shouldn't worry because you would have been selected by fair grounds. I don't think your selection was involved in this."

"Well, why didn't you file a case against them in this regard?"

"I was about to do that, but all the proof were burnt. And I wasn't able access any documents just like that because it's not that easy. And you know; my relatives had the police forces on their side. I was blackmailed too. If I were involved, I would have been worse than dead. I had no support either. My parents had to forcefully pay for me. That's a reason why my mom ostracized me because she feared if she had to spend more for me further."

"It's all bad for you; It's pathetic. You can't live like this anymore. You seem to be a very nice person, then why don't people like you? And you have completed your post graduate and the next thing you would do is get a job. Then why did your mom have a fear of spending too much for you again?"

"Because I don't know; none of them or even I never knew that my dad was a criminal at that time. I was just another student who was left out from peer gang, that's it. And my mom didn't believe in me. She said that my relatives were plotting out to make sure that I don't get a job."

"Welp… I get it now. Your life is unrealistically hard. I mean it's too hard to even handle. You do need someone to help you out. And sorry if I am being rude, your family doesn't deserve you. Your family is all corrupt and stupid."

"I wish someone could, but I don't want anybody to face any troubles while dealing with mine. People who are with me will get treated badly more or less. That's why I feel like dealing with this all by myself. And yes, I don't want to be part of the family anymore. I'd rather be all alone."

"I don't think you can. It's not like you can't deal with this all by yourself, but things will be hard without someone's support."

"Yes, I get what you are trying to tell but I don't have any other option. Anyways, I do have some expensive jewelry left since I was in middle school. I can exchange them with some money."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes sir."

Kane was actually shocked. He knew that jewelry was necessary to garnish women. He has seen his cousin sisters and other women is his family wearing expensive accessories. They would get new ones every year. He could see the huge gap while trying to compare her with them.

"In all honestly, I don't really have so much but I will get some fair amount with the jewelry I possess. You needn't worry sir; I will meet the required expenditure then but temporarily."

He felt a bit miserable. He didn't consider this earlier, but when she came for the check-up she wore partially rusted earrings. She didn't wear a chain or a watch. Her neck was bare. Her collarbones were so visible.

"Sometimes, I forget if I am really a woman. I am always so plain and bland. My physical appeal drops down due to this."

Kane sighed. He seemed a bit frustrated.

"Your situation is unrealistically sad. I really wonder what you would have gone through ma'am. And well, I am ready to help you in this because umm-"

"Sir, it's okay; you are a doctor and I am just a lonely wench. If you try to help me out, you will face the worst, I bet. Anybody who is there to help me will have a harder life. So, think twice-"

"There is no need to think twice to help a person like you. You are generous, kind and selfless. You care about others despite they don't treat you well. I won't hesitate. If your problem is financial crisis, then I would be the best person to handle this. My family is quite rich, all thanks to my father. I'd rather help someone instead of seeing them suffer. It's totally unfair on me to go ahead with my life instead of not helping the ones in dire need."

"Really?"

Kane chuckled and said, "Yes. Infact, there was a time when I was asked to take over my father's job. Indeed, I could have earned a lot more than I earn as a doctor but no, I prioritized my interest. I don't care about how much I earn; I only care about if I am doing what I like."

"Wow that's good to know! You have taken the best path for you sir. Good luck."

Kane rubbed his forehead and greeted, "Thank you very much! You are really sweet!"

Her cheeks turned crimson upon the acknowledgment. She was not sure how to react. She simply bent her gazes down without saying anything. She really couldn't smile but she was feeling happy, indeed.

It was time for Katsumi to leave. Before leaving, they both exchanged their numbers. She thanked him before she left.

'I get reminded of a certain someone….'

Like she said that day, he has met with something worse which is none other than her own suffering. But, he never imagined that it would affect his loved ones. He thought he might get directly affected. However, it hurts him a lot more to see his wife and their unborn child like this. The position of the baby seemed to have changed a bit. It's a miracle that the child survived, but he should make sure that they don't face something like this anymore considering the enemies they have in outside world.

Kane went close and leaned towards her. The gap between their noses was so small. The most exciting part was she was asleep. He used this chance to peck but suddenly, she vaguely moved her body and her eyes twitched. He immediately moved away from her and pretended to see her waking up in a normal way. Katsumi's visions were blurry once she woke up. Her gazes went clear as time went.

"Why did you come here?" she asked in a drowsy tone.

"Well, uhh I-I-I just finished preparing for tomorrow's lecture! Thus I came to see you." Kane was actually shocked internally, yet he chuckled gently.

"Are you really happy after what happened to us? Why the heck are you chuckling now?" He remained silent. She had a serious frown on her face. Kane actually isn't happy; he is just trying to make the ambiance cheerful. He does know how much pain it takes to be like that.

"I am sorry, I thought you might consider moving on."

"Please, didn't I already tell that you should not try to console somebody when they are not in a good mood? It will make them feel like their concern is nothing to be worried about."

Kane couldn't speak back. Infact, he doesn't want to speak back. He really has a soft spot for her ever since they met. She is also pregnant and he sensed that she is in some mood swing, so he doesn't want to trigger. Even though her tragic past can't be used as an excuse to not argue back, it hurts to consider that as an excuse but to sound more of a valid reason.

He hung his head low and left her. She struggled to get up from the bed a bit but finally, she did.

Katsumi didn't know what she could. She couldn't sleep further. She had no choice but to just sit idly again. She kept the pillow on the headboard of the bed and rested her back against it.

Around a few minutes later, Kane came to the room to pick clothes for tomorrow. It's going to be Sunday the day after. Thankfully he might get some time to spend with her during a crucial time, but he just wondered if he could do that. She seems to be miffed with him a bit. His other half is just scared to be around her.

Kane didn't know what to do either. He was perfectly prepared for tomorrow's lecture. Ah yes, he had to prepare dinner for both! But, he considered talking to his mother about the current state.

Kane went to the terrace. The call went for half an hour. He got a bit of scolding from her for not going with her to the treatment. He has been trained fair in martial arts, sothere were heavy chances for him to have saved her. However, she did understand his situation too.

It was eight when he started to prepare the dinner. He made some soup and toast. He kept the dinner simple and light.

He arranged the dinner for her on a small tray and took them to their room. She was in the same position for a long time.

"Have some dinner. Do ask me if you want some more."

Katsumi gently took the tray from him.

"Will you be able to eat them by yourself? Do you want me to feed you?"

"I am not a baby; I will take care of myself. Thank you."

Kane sighed. 'Well, you have a baby inside, thus I would love to feed you.'

"Welp, do ask for some more if you want. Don't hesitate." He said as he left the room.

Kane had the dinner outside. Katsumi didn't ask for another serve, thus he didn't go to their room either. He washed all the vessels and arranged them on the respective racks.

The lights were switched off at eleven thirty. Katsumi was in a full yet deep slumber. Kane had to pack his things and arrange clothes for tomorrow's work. He wanted to use this chance to kiss her once, at least on the forehead. But, he changed his mind. Otherwise he would start to have more expectations.

'Please understand; this is the time we have to keep our love strong. This is the time you need me the most by your side. This is the time we both should stay together. Please Katsumi, don't you love me? I am bearing more pain than you are. Please don't get offended. As the mother of the child, I can understand how painful it would be for you of our child. But, as your husband and the child's father, I feel sorrowful for both of you! Please, don't be like this!' He cried. Tears were slowly coming out from his eyes.

He tried not to sob. He badly wants to be with her, cuddle with her and kiss too, but no, she doesn't want too. He can't be close with her if she doesn't want to. He is not expecting her to be completely happy either. Why couldn't she just accept his gestures? That's all what he wanted.

He had no choice. He has to make up his mind. He will have to present to the class tomorrow. He can't be like this.

He took a deep breath and switched off the room lights. He couldn't sleep. He kept rolling from one side to the other.

Now he remembered the times when they started to get closer.

Katsumi's life has been turning better ever since Kane agreed to help her. She got some money in exchange of her jewels. She got to eat a pretty balanced diet. He also gave some money for her to pay for bills. They often talked to each other by phones. She felt a bit relieved. She felt herself getting happier day by day.

Never would anyone imagine that they got so close in a quick span of time.

Soon, Katsumi's birthday came. She was at least able to afford a new dress and some decent accessories. She looked better and prettier than she looked every day. Right on that day, they both planned to meet each other. She was in a dilemma.

'Wait, I am too shy to tell him that it's my birthday today, but how would I be able to hide it for a long time? What should I do?'

Katsumi was asked to wait beside his hospital. She waited for him and he finally showed up in his car.

"Hello!"

Katsumi went to him.

"Well, what's the reason why you called me here?"

"Umm…" Kane gently rubbed his temple and turned his head a bit. His cheeks were red.

"Problem?"

"No! No! I am fine." Kane chuckled nervously. Katsumi was skeptic.

"Just close your eyes for a minute, will ya?"

"Why?"

"Just close your eyes as I say. I can't tell the reason now. It will ruin everything."

Katsumi shut her eyes. She heard the backdoor of the car opening. She felt him taking some box.

"I am all done, you can open."

Katsumi opened her eyes. She could see him holding a box.

"Happy birthday, K-K-K-atsumi." He stuttered her name. She could feel intense happiness and joy. Her lips took a very broad smile. She was all ethereal, divine and gaiety. Her eyes couldn't go wider. She looked at him.

Suddenly, a few tears started to flow from her eyes like smooth streamlines.

"Can you tell me how you know my birthday? I-I-I can't believe my own eyes."

"Well uhh…" Kane rubbed the back of his head. "I asked for your date of birth when you came to the check-up, right?"

Katsumi didn't know what else to tell. She has gotten a birthday after a very long time.

She couldn't hold her horses. She wanted to see what was inside right then and right there. She gently opened the box. She saw a jewel box placed on a lime green Kimono and white sash. Kane took the jewel box, opened it for her. She could see silver plated necklace, long earring and a small finger ring.

"Don't forget that you are a woman. You definitely need them. You deserve it."

She gasped for once. "Don't tell me that this is original."

"It not covering, it has been plated with pure silver."

Katsumi was on the verge of dropping the box.

"Why did you spend so much for-"

"Shush, no more questions. These are for you. I won't hesitate to help you like this as well. You deserve some happiness as well, right? You are a human being just like all of us."

"Really, I-I-" she covered her mouth with her palm.

"I know you never expected this. You just aren't used to this. However, it's something to make you feel enlightened on your birthday."

"Thank you very much sir! This is not really enough to thank you!"

"There is no need to thank me ma'am."

"No, call me Katsumi like you used to."

"Okay," he nodded his head.

Katsumi couldn't control her happiness, but more than that she found herself falling for him. Nobody has ever cared for her as much as he did. That ultimately pushed her to love him. Her feelings were genuine and true.

However, the interesting part is, Kane actually likes her too. They both hid their feelings assuming that the other considers them more as a friend. Thus, they are secret admirers for each other.

Kane offered to take her out for that day. It was planned pretty simple yet neat. First they went to a silent restaurant. They'd cut the cake there. After having some lunch, they went to the cherry blossoms garden. It was spring time and the Sakura flowers were flooding the green grassed land. There were very few people, so the view was crystal clear. A small lake was in view as well. That was such blissful scenery.

They sat beside each other and both lent their back against the tree. Katsumi closed her eyes and faced the Sakura flowers up.

"I don't know how many times I should thank you. You made my day Yamashita-san."

"Call me Kane, its fine."

"Can I?"

"You've let me call you Katsumi, so I will let you the same."

"Fine then; well, are you twenty-eight as well?"

"No, I am still twenty-seven. I will turn twenty-eight this October."

"I see."

There was a pleasant silent with only the birds' chirpings which can be heard. Katsumi opened her eyes and looked at him, "I barely remember myself being this happy. I have no words on how this birthday was a great one."

"Katsumi, you are a person who deserves better. You still have the golden heart even when people degrade you or don't give you justice."

Katsumi's face turned red.

"W-W-Well, really? I-I barely get appreciated like this. You are just making me feel…"

"Making you feel what?"

She stared at his face.

"Welp, I forgot what I was about to tell you."

Kane sighed and his eagerness went for a toss. For a few minutes, they kept talking, taking pictures, taking walks and finally ended up under the same tree. Katsumi was all tired and ended up sleeping on Kane's shoulder.

Kane even offered her to teach some driving, but she said that she does know. He was actually surprised to find that she is very good at driving and even riding a two wheeler. The surprise knew no limits when her learning speed was indeed shorter compared to him. She was fluent.

From that day onwards, they became like casual friends. But internally, they had feelings for each other.

They weren't filled with intentions when it came to love. They were often indifferent when it came to romantic love, but unless and until they met each other.

'Katsumi, I wish if I could get back the same old days again. You don't realize how much I am worried for you. I don't want to scold you a bit. I don't want to be harsh with you as well. You are such a sweet person! Why are you like this? What else do you want from me? Tell. I am ready to give you anything as you wish. Just speak to me. Its hurts a lot when you reject me.'

Chapter 01 | Chapter 02

#kane yamashita #oc #kane x oc #kaneoc #beyblade oc #beyblade #beyblade fanfiction #fanfiction.net #canon x oc #smut #beyblade smut #anime smut

8 notes · View notes

crystalelemental · 3 years ago

Photo

And now for the much, much easier one: seasonal rankings. I feel much more confident on this one, personally. Same as before, this is meant to be serious, slightly more objective advice on their utility, rather than just my favorites, and tiers are intra-tier sorted such that the further left they are, the better. That said, I feel like this will be harder to say isn’t biased, given that there’s not a single male above B-tier. I swear, it’s DeNA’s fault for how they design the seasonals. I kept Lilliebee in C, and put NY!Volkner in B, this would never have happened in a biased tier list.

F-TIER

H!Acerola: God she’s so bad. Confuse is bad. She has no good secondary options. She can just run out of moves. It’s a bad time.

S!Lyra: Also really bad. Damage is low, self-setup is bad, main move is physical while sync is special. Can sleep all foes if EX, but her multipliers need sleep and that means taking a sleep ally.

W!Erika: Great for healing, bad for literally everything else. And frankly not even that good at healing. She gets X Regen All, and a one-use Potion All that resets debuffs. Neat?

NY!Lance: Same as base Lance, just no good self-setup and mostly here for Hyper Beam. Every other issue is identical; sync and main move mismatch, buff sucks, no great support options, etc.

D-TIER

H!Hilbert: Okay yes, his Dark damage is good, but his main attack move kills him and he cuts into defenses with the trainer move. And you know who can also deal good Dark-type damage, in the same vein as this, but doesn’t cost gems? BP Karen. That’s really bad for him.

W!Siebold: He doesn’t look half bad, but I’ve seen tons of showcases on his common form, but none on him. Apparently his common form is just better. Ouch.

B!May: Bunny May. High Jump Kick is neat Fighting-type damage, and she’s got some nice team support buffs, but her damage seems really bad for a striker. Which is bad.

W!Rosa: I love Winter Rosa, but she only sets Hail on entry, and her buffs can be huge, but are woefully inconsistent due to their random nature. And no healing makes it hard for her to survive long enough to really rack up those buffs.

C-TIER

S!Gloria: The lock and reload thing really isn’t good. She cannot buff herself for shit, and needing both special attack and crit is severely hindering. At least her damage is legitimately good, but with no Max Moves, her other moves are just...not that useful. I can’t imagine using the other two at all.

S!Steven: Instant max crit under Hail, sets Hail on sync, and has decent damage with a nice flinch rate. He’s not a worldbeater, there are definite issues, but he’s honestly not too bad at all.

SC!Guzma: Legitimately my favorite gimmick in the game. I love SC!Guzma’s shenanigans, but they are not effective. Missing three times to get one really big hit is just not a sustainable model.

P!Bea: Decent support. Hail on entry, can get Hail on sync, double Potion MPR, has some nice defensive self-buffs. But she can’t cap any offensive stat for allies, and her grid is a bit of a disaster.

NY!Lillie: Can cap crit, but more interesting, caps evasion. Has self-heal with Leech Life, and can set status shield. NY!Lillie is far from great, but her tools are pretty neat and I like them a lot.

B-TIER

NY!Volkner: Stupid high damage man, who mostly gets the stupid high damage while on-type. Off-type he loses a metric ton of his benefits, and is...just kinda alright.

W!Skyla: Solid Flying-type damage, who sadly cannot access Flying Zone. Her setup is also very random, much like W!Rosa’s buffing, but she does bring some nice effects in status and flinch through her moves.

S!Marnie: The peak of self-sufficiency. For no MP, she can cap attack, defense, and crit, and then using her trainer move once caps special defense and speed. Then she can attack to lower special attack on each hit. Very solid Fairy-type damage, but her only multipliers require the foe to have reduced special attack. Which she can’t do until she’s finished setting up, and is incredibly slow at.

H!Morty: Guaranteed burn, potential attack debuffs that are very fast-acting, surprisingly decent defensive utility, and infinite no-gauge attacks are honestly really solid traits. Unfortunately his base attack damage isn’t great, and while his sync nuke is good, it’s nothing fantastic.

SC!Hilda: I love her, but she’s about here. Good damage, love that she conserves gauge, but only after Mega Evolution, which comes with the usual difficulties. Her setup is her biggest drawback, needing attack and speed both, which is a rare combination of traits for a supporter to have.

W!Leon: Great damage for an Ice-type, with the highest freeze chance in the game. Sadly, that chance is still under 50%. Less than a coin flip. Just like main game, freeze is so stupid over-powered that they tend to make it really hard to activate. But, Freeze rarely has Lessen available from what I’ve seen of Gauntlet, so it’s a good one to have. Versatile setup lets him work with a variety of teams, but his self-setup can be a bit slow.

B!Burgh: Double Potion MPR and Dire Hit All+ is great, and having a one-gauge spam move and a trainer move that buffs defenses is nice too. He can block defensive debuffs for himself, and has built-in Vigilance. But, he cannot buff offensive skills whatsoever, so teambuilding is a bit tougher for him due to the striker being completely on their own for offensive stats.

A-TIER

NY!Sabrina: Endure is clutch. She’s so good because of that one skill. It’s such an absurd skill. And in Gauntlet, she has the potential to buff speed and both defenses over time, on top of her special attack buffs and ability to block status. NY!Sabrina has great tools, although she is held back by how painfully reliant she is on random chance. Everything she does requires 30% chances to activate, and it’s...noticeable on the times she just gets unlucky how limited she really is.

W!Nessa: Best Hail supporter, with great flinch rate, the ability to block a physical hit against her, super preparation for a massive sync nuke. Nessa’s got really great traits, and is probably the unit I most regret not pulling for.

P!Dawn: Unbelievable debuff skills, for both attack, and the rare special defense. P!Dawn is a tremendous force for debuffs, and facilitates a ton of options. I do think the rise of Zones makes her somewhat more limited, but she can serve as the frontline tank with Vigilance to debuff and give both benefits to a striker. She’s pretty great at that too. And she can give offense buffs and gradual healing to allies! Her biggest weakness is her attack move is bad, her sync nuke is bad, and she’s really slow.

P!Serena: Insane value for Gauntlet. Paralysis support, speed buffs for the team, speed debuffs, potential for special attack drops, and an absurdly good Tech sync nuke. P!Serena has great traits, but cannot self-setup at all. She’s incredibly limited in that one regard, and it does hold her back from being one of the best.

S-TIER

H!Caitlin: Buffs four stats to cap, with attack, speed, defense, and special defense. Provides a ton of effects on entry, including crit shield to negate potential sync or move crits from Gauntlet matches trying to be cheeky with AoE. Oh, and she heals on sync. No crit buff hurts, but the rest of her kit is so absurd that it likely would’ve been overkill.

P!Marnie: God she’s insane. Her debuffs, just on entry, hit -4 attack and defense thanks to mega evolution. Growl can double up the debuffs. Steel Zone support into an insane sync nuke, and good turn by turn damage with a great flinch rate. Her only drawback is not buffing her own crit, but damn is that a small issue compared to everything she brings.

SC!Diantha: Probably the best sync nuke in the game, coupled with debuffing both defenses and speed of the foe on every attack, then raising her own. Quick self-sufficient buffing, absurd turn-by-turn damage and an alternative attack that cannot miss. The only downside to comment on is only hitting +4 special attack, and having Move Gauge Boost because what else do you do with a damage-dealer this good?

SC!Jasmine: In three turns, Jasmine provides +5 special attack, +6 special defense, +3 crit, and gradual healing for the entire team. EX support sync that also applies Endure to the entire team. Then every turn after, she can one-gauge spam with Absorb to get a 50% chance to cut enemy special defense, or Flash Cannon for a guarantee. Built-in Vigilance means she gets to take a fancy Deluxe Cookie for like Status Immunity or something. If there is a flaw to Jasmine, it’s that her ability to take physical hits is notably limited. But even with that flaw, the Endure effect and party-wide Gradual Healing means she’s absolutely helping the team survive against even those kinds of threats. SC!Jasmine is honest to god one of my picks for best unit in the game. There’s so little she can’t do.

#pokemon masters #seasonal units #pokemon masters tier list #seasonal tier list

2 notes · View notes

flamingfandomtrashcentral · 4 years ago

Note

You're so cute when your struggling? With Overlord or Tarn please? 💕

This probably isn’t exactly what you wanted, but I hope you can still enjoy it

Overlord and Tarn

Coming back online after being knocked unconscious was never a pleasant experience. There was no telling what kind of situation you would find yourself in, nor what state your body would be in. Best case scenario: you wake up in the care of your allies. Unlikely, given that you were alone. After that, being where you were when you passed out was the most realistic good option. That wasn’t the case though. Instead of the desolate, battle worn building you had been scouting, you now appeared to be in a clean room. Possibly on a ship.

You could feel someone tinkering with your head. Perhaps, this was the best option after all. Maybe one of your friends had rescued you, and had just taken you somewhere you didn’t recognize! Or maybe your processor was damaged. Could be, you think you can remember the structure crumbling down onto you.

Not wanting to wait for the answers to come naturally, you try to move your head to see who’s helping you. A bad decision, it turns out. Moving when someone is tampering with the inner workings of your mind is not a pleasant experience. The pain is instant. As is the yelling of whoever was back there.

“Nah-ah-ah, no moving! What is wrong with you? You feel someone trying to fix you and you just thrash about???” You barely moved your neck, but you decided to keep that to yourself. The mystery bot finally revealed themselves, sharply leaning over your head to look you in the optics. A green minicon was now giving you a dirty look.

“Uh... sorry?” You’re not sure what she wants, but you feel an apology is your safest option.

She sighs, going back to whatever it was she had been working on, “I suppose this is what I get for not strapping your head down too, but it kept getting in the way. Just hold still, would you?” Too? You experimentally tried to move an arm, only to find it locked in place. It makes sense, she can’t have you rolling off the table while she’s got your head opened up, now can she? Who knows what would come flying out if that happened.

It’s not long before two sets of footsteps approach the room you’re in, but that’s not what really catches your attention. It’s the arguing that does.

“Why are you still here? I did not invite you onboard, nor do you have any reason to stay.” He huffed in annoyance, “Just leave, this is most unnecessary.”

“My, my, someone’s in a sour mood today. Did you burn through your last t-cog already?” Another voice chimed in, this one not nearly as deep as the first.

You heard the minicon mumble something about them being a bunch of sparkling just before they entered. The door was to your side, so you could kinda see what was going on through your peripherals. The purple mech held out his arm to block the bigger blue one, trying to close the door on him before he could come in. Didn’t work, he just forced his way in. The purple mech being no match for him in terms of strength, apparently.

“You do not need to be in here!” The purple one hissed. “It’s because of your brutish ways that they’re even in this state. You had no reason to topple over that building other than simply wanting to.”

“I’ll admit it was unnecessary, and I wanted to apologize to them.” His voice was dripping in mock concern, even you could tell he was full of scrap and you didn’t even know who it was.

The other guy didn’t believe him either, if the bark of laughter was anything to go off of, “Oh, that is priceless! Overlord apologizing. I didn’t realize you were abandoning the cause to become a comedian.”

Your spark faltered. No. There’s no way you heard that right. Nuh-uh, no way, he did not just say that name. You still couldn’t see their faces due to how you were positioned.

“Speaking of odd behavior,” hopefully-not-really-Overlord’s voice was tight, but still retained an air of condescension to it, “you’re awfully concerned about them, Tarn.” Oh Primus dammit. “Taking the time to patch them up when you should be hunting down your next target, that never happens.”

Your increasing panic successfully tuned out whatever else they were saying. This is it, this is how you die. No doubt you’re being kept here so he can kill you later. You hadn’t exactly been a model Decepticon in recent millenia you’ll admit, but it’s not your fault the movement took a turn for the murderous unexpectedly! Plus all your friends were in it, and you didn’t want them to judge you, so you just kinda stuck around... passively... hiding from any and all conflict. Primus you were going to die here.

The sound and feeling of your head being snapped back together pulled you out of your dread. It caught their attention as well.

“Are they well, Nickel? This brute didn’t cause any permanent damage did he?” Tarn asked, sounding bizarrely invested in your well being. A psychological torture tactic, probably. Make you feel like you’re in the clear, only to rip you apart later.

“Yes, yes, they’re fine,” Nickel waved him off dismissively as she lowered herself to the ground. “They’ve also been conscious for all of your bickering.” With that, she took her leave, not even bothering to undo the restraints. No need to untie someone that’s about to die, you grimly accept.

Now that you’re able to move you head freely again, you slowly look up to see the towering figures of two of the most feared Decepticons. Their red eyes cut right through you. A small, naive part of you that thought you still had a chance urged you to do something, anything. You wiggle helplessly in your restraints, hoping that maybe they’ll be somewhat weakened from the previous victims. You have no idea what you would do if they did snap, but you’ll cross that bridge if you ever get to it.

Overlord smiled at you, an experience you never wanted to have, “You're so cute when your struggling.”

W h a t ?

This made everyone freeze, Tarn looking at Overlord with pure disdain, while you looked to Primus for answers you’re not even sure you wanted.

Tarn seemed beside himself at the statement, “What is wrong with you? You crush them under a toppled building, and now you’re flirting with them?” He placed a servo on your shoulder, an action probably intended to sooth, but all it did was make you shudder.

“Please, don’t act like you weren’t thinking the same thing, I saw the way you were eyeing them when we got here. At least I’m actually taking the initiative.” Overlord snickered at the strangled noise that came out of Tarn at this accusation.

“Do not put words in my mouth! I would never say something so- so crude! If I was trying to charm them, I would say something much more eloquent,” Tarn was desperately trying to regain some sense of dignity after Overlord’s comment.

They continued going back and forth, critiquing each other’s “courting methods”. Not that you were paying attention anymore. You were just hoping they’d hurry up and kill you, anything was better than whatever the frag this was.

#tarn #overlord #imagines #transformers imagines #transformers #mtmte #idw #yandere #not really though i went way off the tracks with this one sorry anon #hope it's still good at least!

180 notes · View notes

x0401x · 4 years ago

Text

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #3

Feel free to message me about possible corrections, and please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook. In case anyone is feeling generous: Ko-fi | PayPal. ( ╹◡╹)っ’･*

← Previous || Index || Next →

T/N: Okay, so, this is one of those chapters where the author makes mistakes in linguistics (but she’s trying, guys, she’s trying!). She writes “prasinon” as “prase” for some reason, and I took the liberty to fix it myself when translating.

Connecting Chrysoprase

Jewelry Etranger sat inconspicuously at Ginza 7-choume. The store owner, Richard, was the possessor of a beauty that you couldn’t think was from this world, but no matter how beautiful he was, once half a year had passed, you would get used to it. And as I got used to him, the questions also surfaced.

“Hey, Richard, don’t you have any favorite foods other than sweets? Do you eat ramen or anything like that?”

Mr. Richard Ranashinha de Vulpian looked at me with scrutinizing blue eyes. Sitting on the red sofa, he had been observing the contents of a large jewel box, holding them up over his head against the morning light shining in from the window.

“I find difficult to figure the aim of the question. Why ramen? I have had meals with you numerous times. I eat anything without likes or dislikes.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s limited to just ramen, but you don’t eat that kind of stuff much, do you?”

Like chives. Or garlic. Or grilled meat dripping with juices.

I knew that this didn’t suit his image. He was a man whose features seemed to have accidentally come out of a dream world. If he told me that he could live off eating department store sweets and pink roses, he could probably have me seriously convinced up to about 70%. That was exactly why I would feel like searching for a gap.

As I was about to ask if he understood this logic, Richard replied curtly with a clay doll-like face, “What ill intentions.”

That was true. I wasn’t some obsessive follower of an idol’s personal life or anything. Richard hit bull’s-eye with the deduction that I “probably ate ramen yesterday”. For some reason, things got awkward. I was in a position where it was better to retreat for a while. Time to change the subject.

“What stone is that? Looks like candy and it’s pretty cute.”

“A type of chalcedony. They are in the same category as crystals. In particular, this one with a milky apple-green color is called chrysoprase.

“Ah~...”

What Richard was pinching with his bare hands - because it was safer to touch it with bare skin rather than wearing gloves, he said, as it wouldn’t cause any damage - was a pale green, round stone. It had low transparency, was cut en cabochon and looked like an old-style candy.

“W-What was it again? The name. Chry...?”

“‘Chrysoprase’,” Richard repeated for me.

How many times had something like this happened? The stone’s name was in a Western language. Basically, all of them were in katakana. My ears did register it, but I couldn’t memorize it in one go at all. Richard was a helpful person, so there were times when he wrote down the names in romaji and explained them to me, but I honestly couldn’t keep up with him. There were countless stones in this world.

“Chryso... aah, no good. It’s hard to memorize.”

“‘Chrysoprase’. It is said to be a stone that helps to harmonize and integrate personalities. Medieval European literature also mentions it as a stone that Alexander the Great loved.”

Alexander the Great. A person I had learned about in high school. Even I knew that name. The fact that a stone adored by a warlord who had long passed away was still loved by people of the current times was thought-provoking. The range of the gemstone world was broad. But, well, leaving that as that.

“How d’you memorize stones’ names? It’s not like you’ve got some test to do like in a history class...”

“Do you think anyone would buy goods from a trader who cannot even say their names?”

“I don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s hard. There’s lots of types and they sound like magic spells. Like ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’. It wouldn’t be weird if you felt like cheating without a care in the world. You got any trick for memorizing them?”

“My compliments to you for being able to pronounce the official name of Sri Lanka’s capital. But I cannot praise the part about carelessly deceiving people. Once your reputation falls to earth, it does not recover so easily. To begin with, your perception of business in general is too lax for someone enrolled in the Faculty of Economics. I know you have the aspiration, but if you do not pair it to practical abilities and skills, you will be running idle. Shouldn’t you try to improve these skills once again so that you can avoid unnecessary hardships in the future? Instead of obsessing over finding out something unexpected about the shopkeeper from your part-time job.”

The arguments were so spot-on that I was at a loss for words. Even so, still with a slightly exasperated face, Richard continued to speak. Most likely, it was his gentle side’s turn from here on out.

“Still, you are right, I do have a trick. If I were to use the capital as an example, ‘Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte’ had its original name ‘Kotte’ being embellished with the title of ‘President Jayawardene’s Sacred City’. When you know the origin of it, doesn’t this line-up of katakana letters that only appears in magic spells turn into meaningful words?”

“So it had that kind of meaning? I see...”

“Is this time to be impressed? Do the same and discover the relatedness of all kinds of matters in your daily life. If you direct your eyes to the depths of your history without sticking to the surface, I guarantee that your world will broaden much more richly.”

“Then what about the chrysoprase of just now?”

As I took a stab at arousing his enthusiasm, the volubly beautiful shop owner smiled gorgeously. I felt that this guy would stay in a good mood forever just as long as I gave him sweets and let him talk about gems. And I liked Richard’s face the most when he was in his best mood.

“This word is taken from the Greek language. It consists of two separate words, ‘chrysos’ and ‘prasinon’. The meaning of chrysos is ‘gold’. The bright golden that can be seen showing through within the green was associated with gold. Prasinon means...”

What happened? His enunciation suddenly got bad.

When I urged him to continue, Richard looked down at the stone in his hand with a dull look and sighed a little. “The meaning of prasinon... comes close to plants such as chives or green onions.”

“Ooh—!”

As I clapped my hands together with an “all paths lead to ramen”, Richard made a face like he had just woken up from a nightmare. What is it? Please laugh.

“In any case, the mental attitude of trying to master something is commendable. I pray that your efforts will bear fruit.”

“Thanks, thanks. Well, will you eat ramen after all?”

Mr. Richard, the jeweler, looked at me with an awfully sharp gaze. What was that face? His facial expression looked like the usual nuance that he was growing fond of my foolishness had increased to about 30%. Did he intend to poke fun on me?

“Yes, yes, I will.”

“What do you prefer? Like miso or soy sauce?”

“A large helping of green onions and garlic. And even then, it is good to grate raw garlic and put in it.”

“That’s a pretty hardcore taste for someone who works with close-contact service business.”

“Which is why this is not something I can eat whenever. I eat it carefully by myself when I do not have to meet anyone the next day.”

As my eyes widened, the beautiful storekeeper raised his chin arrogantly. Did he want to say that this didn’t suit his image or had it just unfolded anew?

“How was it, did you enjoy the so-called ‘gap’?”

“No, it’s not like that’s the main goal.”

“Hah?”

“I can’t invite anyone for a French cuisine restaurant or a high-class sweets store, but if it’s a ramen shop, there’s lots of them near my university. If you like, why don’t we go eat together next time? They’re mostly shops that seem better to drop by wearing a t-shirt rather than a suit, but I wanna try chatting with you while eating this kind of junky stuff every now and then.”

“For you to discover a new unexpected thing about me, you mean?”

“I just wanna get along with you better.”

For an instant, Richard’s facial expression strained hard. What was up? His face looked like he hadn’t known better and bit a sour pickled plum or something. As I furrowed my brows, his blue eyes narrowed, looking glum, while he closed the jewel box with a click and stood up.

“Ah, show me more. It wasn’t nearly enough—”

“The chrysoprase is said to have the power to put the balance of mind and body in order, as well as make it spring up comfortably. Perhaps because its fresh grass color is a reminder of spring. Isn’t this stone unnecessary for you, since you are always in a festive mood?”

“Why’re you angry?”

“I am not.”

“Shouldn’t you take a better look at the chrysoprase?”

“Thank you for the unnecessary meddling.”

Leaving me with things to say, Richard disappeared into the back room. Was it that bad to invite him to a ramen shop? It wasn’t a good idea to let him stay angry, so I voluntarily prepared two cups of royal milk tea in the kitchenette. Having come out into the reception room, Richard said nothing more than the expected as he drank a tea that had a little more sugar in it than usual.

After the customer of that morning had gone home, Richard showed me the chrysoprase once again. Upon a better look, I understood the meaning of that naming, which I couldn’t think of as anything more than a mystery at first. Didn’t the people of ancient times think that this was a plant born from gold? The uneven surface was smooth and wavy like an organic body. Chrysoprase. Gold and green onions. Even though there were several gems in this world, I would probably never forget the name of this one. If I ever got to eat ramen with Richard someday, I would definitely bring up this stone.

“Do you remember that talk?” I would ask.

#jeweler richard #housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #nakata seigi #the case files of jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #tsujimura nanako #yukihiro utako #novel #my translation #fanbook #jr short story collection

124 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 4 years ago

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (No TW this chapter, but keep in mind the grander story involves major character injury)

Words: 6.7K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

Chapter Summary: Aftermath.

This is officially the longest complete SU fic I’ve finished. I’m so proud ;w;

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

_____

Chapter 4: The Remembrance

His mind is shrouded by darkness for long enough that in the split instant the curtains finally part, for just a momentary shard of infinity, the mere idea of any world beyond the pitch-black he’s become so accustomed to seems like a farce.

Resultantly, his journey to consciousness is about as labored and exhausting as a backpacking trip across the Great North in the dead of winter.

He’s greeted by flashes of white, first— intermittent, dim. They splash across his inky sky in unreliable patterns, little bursts of static gearing up to pull him out of this all-consuming nothingness and back to reality. Next, a heartbeat. Steady and sure, such a relief to experience that his throat can’t help but constrict in a wave of all-encompassing emotion. (Why is he so relieved to feel something this normal?) Lying somewhere intangibly beyond his awareness, he can hear... water? Waves, he immediately corrects himself. The aching familiarity of waves crashing upon the shore, a sound he’s shared his front yard with for almost his whole life. Elsewhere, the faint scent of herbs and simmering broth delicately pulls on his consciousness, burning through tangled threads of disorientation and confusion and beckoning him awake.

Steven’s eyelids flutter open, thin lines of light streaming through the gaps between his eyelashes.

The moment he does however, the stark actuality of his situation slams into him with a vengeance. His head throbs as memories begin to re-establish themselves like individual puzzle pieces locking into place.

I was— Dad, and Amethyst... the fountain... empty, and then Pearl had to....

His heart’s pace snaps into overdrive in seconds. Thrashing under his blankets, he manages to kick his arms and torso free so he can rush to sit up. Dizziness assails him as he yanks up the bottom of his pajamas and splays his hand across the smooth, warm surface of that diamond at his core, feeling for cracks, for chips, for—

Huh. Imagine that.

Steven inhales deep as he attempts to balance out the pace of his breath, blood still pounding in his ears as he delicately traces a shaking index finger around the edge of the central pentagonal facet of his gem, entirely unblemished and whole. There’s no sign of damage, no thin stress fractures left behind. No evidence that it was ever cracked at all, really. For an excruciatingly lengthy moment his brow creases inwards in confusion as he wonders if all this agony was nothing but a stress-induced nightmare. But then again...

He groans, pressing his fingers to one of his throbbing temples as the ambient pain hits him.

Oh stars, everything aches. His head, his limbs, his spine, every square inch of his body feels like he’s been pressed through a meat grinder and ruthlessly spat out on the other side. If that’s not proof that what happened on his mission with Amethyst was real, then he doesn’t know what is. Drowsily, he flops back against his pillow and squeezes his eyelids shut, stubbornly yearning for the comfort and familiarity of sleep-induced unconsciousness. Maybe, just maybe... he can sleep these aches away.

Time passes far too unreliably as he’s laying motionless there, struggling against a hyperactive flood of thoughts to return to his earlier state of rest. Has he been awake for a minute? Half an hour? He has no idea. The only concrete thing he can glean is that he definitely has a headache right now. Maybe even a migraine. He’s still not sure what the difference between those is supposed to be. Is it a ‘squares are rectangles, but rectangles aren’t squares’ sort of scenario? Or are they synonyms? Hmm. Maybe he should ask Dad, he’d probably know. In fact, where is Dad? And how’d he end up in bed in his pajamas, anyways?

He’s honestly relieved when he hears the unmistakable sound of Pearl’s light, precise footsteps climbing the stairs to his room, if only that it gives him a solid excuse to face reality and stop deluding himself with the tragic, unobtainable lie that is peaceful slumber. He lets his eyes flutter open again.

“Hi, Pearl,” he mumbles when she reaches the top step.

She’s carrying a small dinner tray with a steaming bowl of something delicious smelling (the broth he recognized earlier?) and a glass of water perched atop. Meeting his half-alert gaze, her expression lights up with a glow of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, good, you’re up!” she says, a great deal of the stress locked in her shoulders melting away as she crosses the room towards his bedside. “I was just about to wake you myself, if you weren’t already.”

Rubbing away the exhaustion crusted at the corners of his eyes with the joint at the base of his thumb, he watches as Pearl carefully places the tray on the nightstand at his right. With a groan, he bows upwards under his covers, the vertebrae in his back popping and sighing all the while as he stretches. Goodness, he’s not sure his spine has ever felt so stiff and tight. Remind him to never accidentally get hurled against a tree in combat again.

“How... how long was I out?” he asks then, the workaholic part of him already fearing her answer.

Pearl glances towards the ceiling, her brow creasing as she makes the calculation in her head.

“Hmm, I think... around seven hours?“

“What??” he cries, shooting upright in bed with the speed of a spring trap. “Seven hours?! That’s like, the whole day! I had plans!”

She frowns pensively, gesturing widely with her hands as she replies. “Steven, you were cracked and needed time to recover. A hit like that is bound to take a serious toll on any body, hard-light or not.”

His features morphing into a scowl, he slouches back against the wall. That’s a fair point, how disruptive cracks can be for full-Gems as well. It’s not just a matter of Pearl babying him. Even though they healed Amethyst’s fracture fairly quickly, years back, it still took her a few days of rest before she rose to the top of her game again. And as much as he’d love to deny it, right now his whole body honestly feels like it’s been hit head on by a truck at sixty miles per hour. It’s a dull but constant brand of pain he can’t claim he’s ever dealt with before all this mess. That month he shot up almost a foot in height back when he was 14 came close, but even that period of ache was more subtle than this.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says with a heavy sigh, threading his fingers together in his lap.

“Anyways,” she says gently, the reminder of her presence cutting through some of the layers of his pain-induced melancholy, “it’s 5:38 now, just in time for dinner! And I took the liberty of cooking a batch of your favorite soup.”

Unable to help himself, his inner child gasps in sheer joy. He sits up again, slamming his palms to his cheeks as he gushes with excitement. “Chicken and vegetable soup with the tiny star noodles??”

Any lingering crankiness about the percentage of the day wasted dissipates into a fine mist as Pearl picks the tray off the nightstand and passes it into his lap, confirming the identity of his homemade dinner. As he begins to eat— carefully, taking small spoonfuls at first to ensure that his stomach can handle it— his guardian sits at the edge of his bed and provides him updates on the rest of the family’s whereabouts. Apparently Garnet’s still halfway across the galaxy, but should be returning home tomorrow the moment she’s through with her mission. She sends her love, Pearl says. She also texted Connie to let her know what happened, and his friend plans to come over as soon as she can in the morning to spend time with him as he recovers. Meanwhile, Greg left a few minutes before he woke up to hit the store. He’s picking up some new food for the both of them, and intends to sleep downstairs on the couch the next few nights to keep tabs on him.

“He’s been really worried about you,” she admits, reaching out for his hand as if she too frets he might suddenly fade into the ether if she takes her eyes off him for one moment. “Before I told him to step out of the house for some mental rejuvenation, he never left your side.”

Steven responds to her tactile affection with a soft squeeze for her benefit, but quickly lets go to continue eating his soup.

“Well,” he says through a fresh spoonful of food, “‘m fine now, so...” Pause to swallow, the bump of his larynx bobbing in his throat. “So there’s no need to worry anymore.”

“Oh, if only it were that easy,” she comments, a melancholy smile framing her face.

With a sigh, she stands to her feet, smoothing out the edge of the covers where she once sat. Watching this small act, he suddenly wonders if her vast history with deeply troubling experiences like what she had to witness this morning are why she’s so emotionally drawn to tasks such as tidying and repairing; after all, these do allow her space to exert a small degree of control over areas of her life she might otherwise harbor concern or anxiety towards. Huh. He presses his lips into a tight line as he willfully contemplates this concept. Considering his earlier disappointment about how much daylight he’s wasted, (so many business and socialization meetings he’s missing in town today!), perhaps he inherited a portion of his own workaholic tendencies from emulating her throughout his childhood. He dares not follow this rabbit any further, however... dares not ask what he’s distracting himself from.

Another time, Universe.

Brimming with a renewed sense of purpose, Pearl crosses towards the narrow patio outside the open slider door, her features returning to their neutral, observant state.

“In any case,” she continues as she rests her palm flat against the glass, “please do enjoy the rest of your meal! I’m going to fetch Amethyst from the observatory. She’s been, um... how to say... on Diamond pacifying duty these past few hours, and I’m sure she‘s desperate for a break.”

He offers a sharp grimace in response to this sentiment, knowing from almost two years of firsthand experience that patiently keeping watch over those Gem monarchs is no easy task. “Youch, my condolences. Feel free to send her in, I’d love to see her.”

Pearl nods in confirmation, and then slips out the doorway towards the observatory’s ramp.

He enjoys what little is left of his soup as he waits. Thankfully, his system shows no signs of unrest, which allows him to finish the whole bowl. Good thing, too. He unfortunately recalls losing his breakfast earlier this morning amidst the blunt force of that spiked tail to his stomach, which means he’s had little to no food in him all day. Now, he’s no medical expert, (Connie would likely know the answer thanks to her mom, though), but surely that can’t be good for recovery.

Amidst his better wishes, his thoughts turn to all the social meetings and appointments he’d planned for today. He can’t imagine Pearl knew his itinerary well enough to contact each and every person he’d unintentionally blown off, so that means from all of their perspectives they waited and waited and he simply... never showed up. Like Mayor Nanefua. He was supposed to discuss logistics about Little Homeschool’s eventual opening with her at town hall immediately after the corrupted Gem mission. Peridot. He agreed to meet with her at one of the ancient drop ship sites to assist in de-arming it for safety purposes. Lars. Before all this happened, he was genuinely looking forward to hanging out with Lars and the rest of his Gem gang this afternoon. And because he was reckless and got himself cracked on what should’ve been the most straightforward mission of all time, he let them all down. He groans, slumping backwards until his head clunks against the wall. Ughhh. Stupid, stupid Steven. Now, where on earth’s his phone? He should probably start to clear up this mess.

Steven places his empty bowl on the tray on his nightstand, and begins dutifully searching the tabletop. Before his search can bear any fruit, however, Amethyst bursts into the room, toting one of the handheld diamond communication lines they store in the observatory. (Blessedly, this one comes without self-destruct functionality. Times have sure changed since the daring days when Peridot emphatically called Yellow Diamond a clod.)

“Hey, little man!” she chimes when they meet each other’s glance, her relieved smile admittedly rather infectious. “It’s great to see ya’ up and at ‘em again.”

He offers a bashful laugh, twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck. “Y-yeah, I’m—“

“Yo, what’s this here, though?” she interjects, bee-lining to his nightstand to stick her nose in his dinner tray. Her face falls the moment she sees inside the bowl, which he’s dutifully scraped empty. “Dude, come on, you didn’t leave any for me?”

“What? Nooo,” he says in mock protest, his voice wavering in laughter. “I already ate it.”

Amethysts reaches forward and gives him a solid noogie, ruffling his hair until its ends are all mussed. Even though his head still hurts he can’t help but giggle, playfully batting her arms away. Hah, typical quartz sibling affection. Gotta love it.

“Nah, I’m just goofin’!” she grins. “You’ve lost enough food today on the forest floor, so I wouldn’t be stealin’ any even if I could.”

“Thank you for that reminder,” he comments with an eye roll, lips pursed as he tries not to muse too hard about the uncomfortable burning sensation associated with that abhorrent experience, least he vomit all over again.

Meanwhile, Amethyst’s high spirits finally hit their crest and begin to break like the distant din of white water waves offshore as she nervously tussles with the crystal octahedron clasped in her palm.

“But, ah... ignoring all that, Blue D said she wanted to talk to you?”

She presses the diamond line into his possession with fettered urgency, the posture of her hands vocalizing an unspoken, underlying message of “oh stars, I’m going insane babysitting these ancient Gem monarchs, please take this from me NOW.” Or at least, that’s what he gleans from it. To be fair, his months of near-constant interaction with them may make him a little biased on the subject.

“Probably best not to keep her waiting. We can catch up later,” she says, giving his fingers a quick squeeze before pulling away.

And with that she hurtles down the stairs into the main living area, ditching him within this empty room with the equivalent of an intergalactic phone that dials direct to who he can only describe as his honorary Gem grandparents. Sure, so maybe most Gems don’t have “children” in the same manner humans do, and maybe the Diamonds themselves have no clear understanding of the classification of human familial relationships, (despite their somewhat touching attempts at learning a few details about Earth culture for his sake), but the quasi-parental role they played in his mother’s life is undeniable from his perspective. So is their “out-of-touch” nature, a common stereotype he sees played up for drama with fictional grandparents on TV shows all the time. He’s not sure how he feels yet that this stereotype rings so true with his own.

Regardless, if Blue wants to talk, then there’s no time like the present. As much as he dreads it, this conversation is bound to happen eventually, of course— and after all their concern, the diamonds more than deserve an update on his well-being. Steven swallows hard, rhythmically tapping his fingers against the crystal as he summons the courage to dial, desperately attempting to not let the sour notes of their last interaction tint the underlying sentiment of this one before it can even begin.

Eventually, he sucks in a deep breath and activates the communicator. The octahedron glows a soft blue, and after a few seconds’ time during which the signal is crossing to the far edge of the galaxy, projects a view screen above its upper point.

The image is fuzzy at first, but sharpens fast once Blue connects from her end. She immediately smiles as she looks upon him, elated emotion running so deep within her that for once, it even manages to reach her eyes.

“Steven! I’m so glad to see that you’re okay,” she begins in full earnesty, clasping her hands together in front of her gem.

He doesn’t respond at first, finding himself too distracted by the scenery, and by the radical juxtaposition of Blue’s current demeanor to her behavior last night. Given the glimpse of White’s empty throne behind her shoulder, he’s pretty sure she’s sitting alone in the ballroom, the sight of which can’t help but stir up unwanted memories of the brief argument they had right before he rushed off to visit home, b-because... oh stars, he was right there, standing right in her presence when she reflexively forced her tears on him.

She wanted to throw him a massive planet-wide ball honoring his sixteenth birthday, wanted to organize a whole coalition of Gems to set up the venues, the entertainment, the food, everything— and when he finally managed to squeeze a word in edgewise between all her unfettered excitement to inform her that he wished to spend his birthday celebrating with his family on Earth instead, she was inconsolable. Crying. Raising her voice. Blaming him of running away from her just like Pink did all those years ago. In the heat of the moment he believed he was simply standing up for himself and his preferences, but fast forward to the present and he can’t help but question the etiquette of his own response more and more as the cruel minutes tick onward. Did he do the right thing, or did he only cause her undue emotional harm? Will Blue Diamond accept his stance moving forward, or will she press the topic again? (After all, he knows her desire to tether him to Homeworld for his birthday is merely a symptom of her greater longing for him to live in the palace with them permanently.) And if she does, is he even allowed to express his opinions when he’s outright walking a tightrope every day he’s in the public eye, single-handedly balancing Gemkind’s delicate political situation in both hands as he slowly but surely advances towards the light on the other side? He must be careful. One wrong move, and everything he’s been working towards for the past year could topple, could cause a disastrous vacuum.

No matter the personal cost, isn’t it his duty as savior of the galaxy to ensure that doesn’t happen?

Gems are depending on him.

And as much as he wants to be selfish and dig his heels into the ground to ensure his own comfort for once in his life, he’s not sure that’s even an option anymore.

Steven grips onto the edge of his bedspread with his free hand, clamping his fingers in tight, reveling in the sensation of skin shifting against downy fabric. It’s just enough to tether him back to the present. To ensure he doesn’t lose himself in the riptides of bitter memory. But by the time his scattered awareness clues in on the fact that he’s probably remained silent for an overly awkward period of time, it’s much too late, and in due consequence, he mentally returns to the scene to find that Blue has kept on talking with or without his conscious attention.

Hah. Serves him right, honestly.

“—was just explaining the details of the disastrous mission you embarked on today,” she says, making small gestures in embellishment of her soft-spoken words, “when your Pearl entered to announce you were awake. I’ll let the others know as soon as I can.”

He swallows, his throat hopelessly dry, as dry as the fine granules of sand scattered across the upper shore on an intensely hot summer’s day.

“I, um—“ he manages, voice wavering. (And quite honestly, feeling stupid for it, in her presence. How many months has he spent perfecting his technique for confidently speaking with the diamonds, again?) He adjusts his hold on the octahedral crystal as he vies to regain some sense of inner balance for the rest of this conversation. “So Yellow and White know too, then?”

Blue leans upon one of the armrests of her throne, releasing a weary sigh. It’s only then that he begins to take note of the residual anxiety blanketed across her form— the almost bruise-like shadows under her eyes appearing deeper than usual, her normally flawless hair now frizzy and unkempt— and if he’s honest, he struggles to understand how he truly feels, knowing that the news of his injury could affect her in such a soul-striking manner. (He often wonders if it’s fair of him, interacting with them in such a detached business-like fashion when, despite their intermittent shortcomings and confusions, they’ve offered him nothing but love and adoration in return since the beginning of era 3.)

“Oh, they were the first to know. Yellow answered the initial call, and White, she was hosting a court session with some of the fusion Gems just next door. I—“ She presses the pad of her thumb to the center facet of her gemstone, pausing in her words a moment to take a sharp inhale. “I only learnt about what nearly happened to you a fragment of a rotation ago, upon my return to the palace.”

His brows furrow, suddenly realizing the fact that, beyond Blue, the throne room she sits in sounds desolate. Void of all Gems. “Where is everyone, anyways?”

“Distracting themselves, mostly. Last I heard, they’re busy trying to locate any of Pink’s essences that might still remain within our stores, just in case something like this should happen again. Of course I dread the very thought, but...”

Her voice wavers with just the hint of a sob, as she momentarily breaks from her explanation to regain her composure.

(Steven is ashamed to admit that he fails to mask the instinctual tightening of his shoulders as he sees fresh tears brim upon the digitized representation of her visage, even though logically he knows there’s no chance her influence could cross all these light years to weigh down on him here. Not on Earth. Not this far away.)

“...I couldn’t bear to lose another,” she manages, and— after dabbing those teardrops away with her curled fingers— glances back up to meet his gaze with those boundless, melancholy eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he says softly, chest growing tighter at the untimely reminder of his mom’s passing, an inseparable facet of his life history he still hasn’t managed to process yet. Perhaps subconscious in nature, his free hand creeps its way under his shirt to rest protectively over his gem. “No one deserves to go through that pain again.”

“Y’know, that’s why I really do wish you’d consider our offer to permanently live with us on Homeworld, in the safety of the palace,” she mentions then, clasping her hands together as if this were a dawning, glorious new idea Steven’s never heard before. “After all, I’m sure none of this would’ve happened under the protection of the guard.”

“Uh, I don’t thi—“

“Can you imagine it, all four diamonds finally reunited under the same stars?” Blue continues, a wide smile passing gracefully across her lips as she waxes on about this indulgent dream of hers. “We could grow you an orchard, so you have as much food as you need, and your pebbles could make you whatever clothes or luxuries you desire. And of course, there’s still the matter of your annual birth celebration to attend to...”

Steven can’t help it. He can’t manage to stop himself, no matter how pathetic he knows his reaction is.

In the light of this topic’s re-emergence, he zones out again. He slips directly into the welcoming embrace of inattention and subconscious thought. His head’s pounding, the pulsing discomfort birthing a brand new species of ache right behind his eyes. It’s miserable, but no more miserable than the idea of the future Blue Diamond has been continuously pushing for the last few months. No more miserable than the idea of being trapped on a planet with individuals who — no matter how hard they try and change their habits for his sake in the present— have all deeply hurt him at various stages of his life. And sure, he knows this is a twisted, selfish sentiment for him to harbor, because of how Pink abandoned them in the past, because of how all three of them have worked so tirelessly these past months to reorganize their entire way of life: to actually see him as his own person instead of a shadow of his mom, to healthily process their own emotions instead of tearing others down, to openly invite fusions and off-colors into the light of society. They’ve genuinely changed for the better. He should be overjoyed about that, shouldn’t he? He should be happy for them.

And yet joy is the last thing he feels when faced with the genuine possibility that he might not be strong enough in his own convictions to stand up to Blue’s desires, that he might one day find himself trapped long-term on a planet that— albeit picturesque in its own unique way— he doesn’t call home, his feet rooted to the dead soil by thorny vines born of his own timidness.

Somehow, in the face of all his fears, he swears he’s transforming into a coward.

He didn’t used to be. The Steven Universe of Era 2 wouldn’t dare stand down from making his opinions heard, would fight for what he believes in until star-shine glistens overhead and all denizens of the galaxy could experience true freedom.

So what the hell is his hang up now? He knows exactly how he wants to respond, so why can’t he simply summon the courage to do it? Why can’t this be as intuitive as summoning his shield, or a bubble?

Why does he have to feel so... so twisted up inside about this?

Steven clenches his teeth then, a sudden spike of residual pain arcing up his spine. Yikes, okay. That doesn’t feel great. Maybe he’s been sitting up for too long, and needs to lay down and rest again.

Or else, maybe after he’s finally done discussing matters with Blue he could...

Wait a minute.

The fingers of his free hand begin to knead the blanket in his lap with a new wave of gusto as he comes to an abrupt revelation about his present condition that could change literally everything.

Stars, that’s perfect. That’s not even a lie! Why on Earth didn’t he think of this before?

He was severely injured this morning. The gemstone at his core outright could’ve shattered, without treatment. Surely any fellow Gem would understand if he says he needs some extra time to fully recover? Perhaps even... the rest of the week? Including his birthday? And on top of that, this extra time would allow him all the privacy he needs to figure out how to confidently and politely decline Blue’s recurring request to live on Homeworld. He’d literally be hitting two targets with one shield!

He nibbles at the inside of his bottom lip as he considers how best to phrase this.

“Hey, Blue?” he calls, immediately garnering her full gaze. “Um—“

Although briefly squirming like an insecure child under those intense azure irises, he stamps down that devilishly tempting urge to go silent and recede into the shadows of this conversation again, wholly compliant to whatever she says. No, he has to speak his mind. No positive change in this relationship will ever occur unless he resolves to stand up for himself, no matter how many reminders it takes. His muscles grow tense as his mouth bobs open once again.

“About the whole birthday celebration thing, I, uh...”

His tongue grows excruciatingly dry in his anxiety, and he’s suddenly struck with the reminder that he never drank the water Pearl left on his dinner tray. Pity, that. He swallows, throat tight and scratchy, and continues.

“I think it’s very kind of you to offer hosting a ball for me on Homeworld, but as of right now, I... I’m very, very sore, and need to stay at my home for a few days to recover from my injury, okay? I promise I’ll visit in person as soon as I’m physically able to,” he rapidly blurts, recognizing a glint of hurt coat Blue’s otherwise attentive expression, “just... after my birthday.”

The diamond lets her weary eyes flutter shut as she takes a moment to soak in everything he just said. Honestly, he can’t think to guess what’s running through her mind right now, and he’s not sure he wants to. Eventually however, she offers an extended sigh, its watercolor edges brushed with an air of melancholy.

“I suppose you’re right,” she replies, offering him a watery smile. “We wouldn’t want to upset your fragile organic system so soon after such an ordeal, now would we? Very well, then. I’ll leave you to rest.”

“Thank you,” he says, his shoulders finally loosening up from their overwrought state.

“We can do something to celebrate when you’re back on Homeworld, just the four of us. In fact, I’ve been talking with White, and we have the perfect idea for a gift!”

Steven gives a small nervous laugh, fiddling with the back of his shirt collar. “Hahah, yeah? Well, I guess I’ll look forward to it. Anyways, uh... thanks for checking in. Bye.”

His heart still pounding despite the overwhelming sense of resolution, his thumb presses the bottom point of the octahedron inwards, ending the call. He gently sets aside the communicator on his nightstand, next to his empty soup bowl. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, he flops backwards on his bed with his arms stretched wide and gives a sharp, celebratory cackle of relief. He... he finally did it! He spoke his mind. He stood up to Blue’s headstrong desires, successfully reasserted his intentions. Set clear boundaries, just like Amethyst said he should. And as his reward, maybe now he can celebrate his birthday at home without guilt hanging like a weighty anvil over his head. Just maybe. He smiles, allowing his sore body to sink right into the plush cocoon of his mattress.

For the first time today, things are finally on the up-and-up.

And so that pattern continues through the rest of the evening. It’s not long after his call with Blue that his dad returns from the store, not even bothering to put the frozen and refrigerated foods in their proper temperature controlled places before bounding upstairs to check on him upon the call of his name. No amount of detailed description could ever hope to intimately capture the full spectrum of sheer elation and love Dad unloads on him in the precious minutes that follow, but by the end of it his father’s sobbing in his arms, exhausted tears staining the collar of his pajama shirt as they clutch to each other with iron clad grips. At this point, the only way Steven can hope to respond is to act as nothing more but a solid rock, if only to reassure him that he’s alive, he’s well, he’s here.

The two of them spend a good chunk of the remaining evening together, watching reruns of Under the Knife at the foot of his bed while nibbling on some cheddar popcorn. It’s rejuvenating, honestly. Stars, is it rejuvenating. Somehow it seems like an eternity since they’ve been able to just... live life together, even in the simplest of ways. They’ll share a dinner here and there when he visits home, sure— a video call from another planet every week or so, yes— but there’s something so fundamentally irreplaceable about physically leaning against your loved ones and spending a tangible amount of time with them that he’s sorely missed over his busy months as Era 3’s ambassador. It’s special. Something to cherish. And something he dearly hopes to engage in with his family and friends a lot more as his immediate duties with the Diamonds wind to a close.

At some point in the middle of their fourth episode, Steven finally finds his phone. It was in his jacket pocket, of course— the new pink wool one he left slung over his desk chair before leaving on the corrupted Gem recovery mission this morning. With that retrieved, he makes sure to text a quick update to all the friends he missed seeing today. Even though logic tells him getting cracked wasn’t entirely his fault, it’s hard to dodge the temptation of guilt. Thankfully though, with the rest of the week now scrubbed entirely free of Homeworld stuff, perhaps he can reschedule a few of these gatherings.

The rest of his night is uneventful.

The Gems pop in and out to check on him, otherwise attending to their own obligations. Over the comforting backdrop of the television, Dad gushes about the concert he’s organized in town next week for Sadie Killer and the Suspects. Says he’s hopeful it’ll be a sellout. In return, he provides lush descriptions of some of the distant former colonies (now free planets) he’s gotten to visit as part of his political service. There’s some pretty stunning ones, he has to admit. The sightseeing he gets to engage in is a small but shining perk of his current responsibilities.

At ten, the TV is turned off. They hug and part ways, his dad quietly shuffling to the bathroom downstairs to brush his teeth and throw on a sleep shirt.

His headache is almost gone by now, having reduced to nothing more but a faint aura.

He’s standing outside on the porch enjoying some fresh, salty air before bed when Amethyst quietly slides into place alongside him, seeking his affection. She wraps her arms tight around his torso, burying her face against his shoulder. He reciprocates in kind. She doesn’t cry like Dad did, however. She doesn’t even speak. Rather, her purposeful silence ripples through his soul more than any concrete word or phrase ever could. Innately, he knows what she’s asking.

“I’m okay now,” he murmurs softly, blinking away his own budding tears while his expression is still hidden from her. “You healed me, I’m okay.”

“You’re a big liar, y’know that?” she says, voice muffled.

He rolls his eyes, pulling away from her embrace. “Fine, fine. I’m still a little sore. ‘Ya happy?”

Amethyst frowns, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger as she shifts her stance to lounge against the railing. “I’d be happier if none of that ever happened in the first place.”

Her frank statement hangs amidst the wind like a tattered flag upon an abandoned battlefield. Steven swallows, the resulting lump settling uneven in his throat.

(For a second he almost feels sick again, a surge of lingering discomfort churning at his core.)

“Yeah...” he sighs, staring off into the dim ocean horizon and forcing himself to acknowledge her unfortunate experience with this type of injury. “Yeah. I’m sorry if that brought back any bad memories for you.”

She scoffs. “Ch’yeah, so... I’m not gonna say it didn’t suck, but. It’s over now, y’know? I’ll deal. You don’t have to apologize for it, or anything.”

Long pause. His quartz sibling threads her fingers together as she leans against the chipping wood, silently tussling with herself under the ebbing solidarity of the ocean tides. A significant stretch of time passes between them before she finally takes it upon herself to speak again.

“‘S’not like it was your fault, anyways.”

His chest tightens upon recognition of that familiar self-blame inherent in her tone. If he were a stronger, better person, he might take it upon himself to chip away at the walls of that insecurity with love and reassurance, to be the kind, encouraging Steven he used to be. But he’s tired, and he’s lived long enough to acknowledge by now that perfectly formed words can’t fix everything. Not immediately, at least. People are complicated. He’s complicated. And sometimes the best one can manage is to simply act as a supportive companion to another.

Starlight glittering overhead, and the cool coastal breeze tussling at their hair, he joins Amethyst at the balcony and rests his cheek on her shoulder just like he used to do when he was little. Together, enveloped in a tension-filled silence, they watch the waves together. Watch the gulls pick at old food scraps further up shore, closer to the edge of the cliffs.

“Hey, what kind of gem was it, by the way?” he asks eventually. “You never said.”

“Ughhh,” she groans, dropping her head against the wood with a soft clunk. “A dang sapphire. Literally no wonder why she was so slippery!”

Steven can’t help the bubble of oddly placed glee that rises within him upon her answer. He cracks a dopey grin, shaking his head at himself. A snicker passes his lips.

A sapphire. Of course it was a sapphire. Gosh, isn’t that sweet, sweet vindication.

Her brow creases in confusion. “What?”

Perhaps finally cracking under months of accumulated stress, he breaks into peels of low laughter.

“What is it? Dude, ya’ gotta tell meeee!” she cries, playfully rustling at his arm as he doubles over against the railing, clutching his sides as he wrests to catch his breath and respond.

“No, it’s- it’s not even funny,” he says, pushing past the final surge and gaining some sense of composure again. “I just... my guess was spot-on. I’ve never seen a corrupted sapphire, before that.” His demeanor falls sober in a snap, wholly humbled by the abrupt reminder of the vital task waiting in his future, a task that— alongside the Diamonds’ bottled essences— only he can hope to see through. “I hope she’ll be okay, once she’s healed. I’m not even gonna mention what happened, honestly.”

Amethyst visibly pales at his allusion to the incident this morning. To ‘what happened.’ Hah. As if cushioning the truth in vague, non-specific language could at all erase the stark reality of what he went through. Sometimes he really is daft.

“Steven, I—“ she swallows hard, nibbling at her knuckles for a moment as she contemplates the greater details of whatever seems to be assailing her mind. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, okay? But... I have to at least ask. Do you, like... remember anything?”

He frowns, avoiding her direct gaze as he moves to lean against the balcony, overlooking the blustery shoreline.

“What, you mean about... everything after the fight? And at the, ah... at the fountain, yeah?”

Amethyst offers a hesitant nod, her eyes glossed with marked worry. Peering at the pinprick constellations above as he reflects on this question, Steven experimentally nudges scattered fragments of memory closer together, the seconds and minutes of that experience progressively locking into place until—

The world bends and splinters within his sight, his dad and Amethyst’s tear-stricken faces phasing into each other as they sink ever further into the thickets of their fearful despair. He’s prone in their hold, hard light pulsing rampant through his veins, unregulated, unrestrained, stretching out from his broken gemstone like clawing, yearning fingers... his muscles taut at one moment and pliable at the next, wholly unable to exert control over his body as his every limb jitters and jerks, unable to staunch his hoarse sobs as he soaks in the cold, terrifying static of it all, and now his words are jumbled and backwards, and deep within he knows this with an intense clarity but he can’t help it, he can’t fix it, he can barely even think, he ca—

Steven inhales evenly, purposefully not allowing his expression to flash even a minuscule micro-expression of residual fear. After all, it’s Era 3. Everyone’s supposed to find happiness and fulfillment now, which can’t happen when people are stuck dwelling on their shadowed past. Thus, Amethyst doesn’t need to be burdened with the knowledge of what he does or doesn’t know. That’s his problem to shoulder, his boulder to carry.

And he refuses to force anyone else to carry the weight of his past for him. He refuses to become like Blue, still stuck in a tempestuous pattern of pushing her emotions on everyone around her and making them feel like crap.

Perhaps it’s foolish, but he sorely wants to believe he’s better than her.

“Nope,” he says, feigning an unparalleled air of confidence as he shakes his head to confirm the negative. “Can’t remember a thing.”

#su #steven universe #amethyst #blue diamond #pearl #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

34 notes · View notes