#I noticed that under stress I even start scratching my skin until it bleeds and that shit scares me

[sovamurka]

No no nonnonoo

[sarahsmi13s]

When Sharks Attack

whumptober day 9: scar reveal

pairing: evan 'buck' buckley x reader

characters: evan buckley, fem!reader, the 118

warnings: blood, shark attacks, scar reveal, language, anxiety attack, let me know if i missed anything please

word count: ~1.3k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: when a call takes you to the scene of a shark attack you can't help but feel a sense of deja vu and reveal the one think you never thought you could

You sighed as you looked in the mirror, your fingers running over the arch shaped scar on your skin. It was old but it was as visible as ever. The scar rounded your hip before it disappeared under your waistband before it finished on the top half of your thigh. You were glad it was in a spot that could be hidden, but you also hated that you had to hide them.

It’s not that you were ashamed or anything, there was nothing to be ashamed of. But you didn’t want anyone to see the scars, they were jagged and ugly. You didn’t like people seeing them.

In the years since you obtained them, you had barely been intimate with anyone, not even your current partner, Buck.

You trusted him with your life, with everything. But in the past, people saw the marks on your torso and they ran. And you couldn’t lose Buck, you couldn’t.

You heard the bathroom door open and you dropped your shirt and started tucking it. 

“Hey, Cap has lunch ready,” Hen said as she poked her head in. You nodded and sent her a smile in the mirror, “Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in just a sec.” She smiled back and nodded, “Alright.”

She left, patting the door frame as she did, and you sighed a little before taking a deep breath and leaving the bathroom.

During lunch the bell went off. In the commotion all you caught was the location before you were getting in the truck and going toward the scene.

You had a pit in your stomach the whole ride to the beach and you didn’t know why. 

That was until you made it through the crowd of people on the dock and saw it.

A bull shark had gotten a hold of a fisherman and wouldn’t let go. 

The scent of copper and salt water filled your senses. Blood stained the dock and the man was shouting in pain as the beast refused to release him.

That pit in your stomach turned to bricks as you stopped moving. Your side began to burn and itch. You suddenly weren’t seeing the fisherman, but yourself on the dock next to your board and bleeding from your side.

You were 18 when it happened. You were surfing with some friends, padding into shore when a great white thought you looked like its next meal. The shark took a test bite out of your side and upper half of your thigh. It was a quick bite, but it was enough. 

Internal organs were damaged and you had nearly bled out on the beach but you were stabilized and taken to the hospital just in time. 

You survived, yes, but you haven’t gone back in the water since.

“Y/N? You okay?” Buck asked, turning to when he noticed you hadn’t moved.

With your heartbeat in your ears you hadn’t heard him and you all but shoved your gear in Bobby's chest and took off towards the engine.

They called after you but they quickly turned back to the emergency at hand.

You made it to the engine, leaning against it and ripping your button up open and untucking it and your undershirt.

Taking deep, grounding breaths, you rubbed and scratched at your side. 

Your scars always did this when you were stressed or when you got anxiety. Especially in the event of flashbacks or situations that triggered you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped them away quickly with your free hand.

“Fuck, pull yourself together Y/N this is completely unprofessional,” you scolded as you tried to shake out the tension in your fingers. “You should be better than this. It's been 6 years.”

“Honey? Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” 

You gasped, startled as you felt Buck’s hands on you. You hadn’t heard him calling for you or running up to you. 

“Not-Nothing Buck, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You had dropped your shirt and looked up at Buck’s eyes to find them fixated on your side.

Shit. He saw.

“Buck..” 

“What happened?”

You sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the cab of the engine and getting in. You closed the door and sat across from him. You rested your arms on your knees and played with your fingers. Now was the moment, and you were dreading it.

“The summer before I went to college… a few friends and I were surfing, on this beach actually,” you started not looking Buck in the eye. He mimicked your position and spoke softly to you, “I didn’t know you were a surfer.” You chuckled dryly, “I’m not… not anymore.” 

Buck just nodded, staying silent as you continued. “We were paddling into shore and all of a sudden I had this intense, hot pain in my side… A um, a great white had taken a test bite. I was brought into shore and I almost bled out in the sand.”

“But you didn’t,” Buck said, holding your hand in his. “You’re here, with us, with me.”  You nodded, sniffling a little. “I know that, I know. I just – it was terrifying…”

He nodded and kissed your hands. “I-I’m sorry I never told you sooner…” “Don’t apologize, honey. You don’t owe me anything,” he soothed, rubbing your knuckles.

You sniffle again and pull your hands away to wipe your eyes. “I should have been more professional, it was 6 years ago…” He shook his head, “Hey, you can’t control how situations make you feel, Y/N.” “I guess not…” 

Buck’s eyes flicked from your face to your side as he bit his lip. He knew it wasn’t his place, but he had to ask.

“Why did you never tell me?”

You sighed, “I was scared…” He furrowed his brow, “Scared? Scared of what?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, “They aren’t… pretty. And when people have seen them in the past…”

Buck’s heart broke. “You thought I would leave you…” You nodded, not looking at him. He tilted your chin up, “I don’t care about some scars, Y/N. They make you you.”

“You might not say that after you see them…” 

“Then show me…”

Your head whipped up to him, “Wh-what?” His face was nothing but serious, “Show me, Y/N.”

His blue eyes held nothing but genuineness and you nodded before standing.

Gulping, you lift up your shirt and look away from him as he sees the entirety of your scar. “If you want to end it-” He cut you off, “Don’t even finish that thought, I’m not going anywhere.”

He brings his hand up, his fingertips running over the marked skin delicately. 

“They’re beautiful…” 

You snorted, “I appreciate the lie Buck…” “I’m not lying. Do you know what scars mean?” You didn’t respond, looking down at your boots. “They mean you survived. That attack could have one or two outcomes. One of those outcomes includes me never getting the chance to meet you, and the other includes you and me in this truck having this conversation.”

He stood, “So, they’re beautiful because you are. Because you are alive.” 

You looked up at him as his finger hooked under your chin, “I love them because I love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

You capture his lips in a kiss as tears still slip down your face. “Thank you, Buck… I love you too. But… I still don’t think I’m ready for sex, there’s just a lot I think I need to work through,” you told him honestly. He nodded and pecked your lips, “Whenever you're ready, I’ll be there. And I’ll be by your side until then.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, “Thank you Buck.” He kissed your head, “Any time Y/N.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

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so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[themirrormarches]

Watch: A fic about August.

(tw for: mild self-harming, swearing, some blood.)

(also a quick heads-up, Greaves belongs to the lovely @chaotic-tired-bastard !)

It had been a particularly rough day for August. He was pretty used to being pushed around and hassled by his coworkers, but today it seemed harsher than normal. They didn't seem like they were joking. August was simply sitting on his bed, staring down at his shoes- which had a thin layer of green matter, grime, and oil on them. It started to feel like his skin was itching. Like there were bugs under his arms. "No, no, don't give into that temptation. It'll only make it worse," he muttered to himself. And now his face itched. It got worse. It started to burn. But he ignored it.

For a few minutes, at least.

Until he rolled his right sleeve up and absently dragged his left fingernails over his arm. And then he did it again. And again. And again. He didn't stop. He tried so hard, but he couldn't. It felt nice to get the bugs out from underneath his arms. He barely even cared that he was starting to slowly bleed from his arm. It didn't matter. He was free from the itching feeling.

And he didn't care that a pair of worried eyes had been watching him do it.

It was only when his eyes drifted towards the open door when he saw a pair of glowing green eyes looming over him. Staring right at him. "Oh, it's just Greaves. Phew," he thought. He turned his head to look up at him, and the automaton looked.. both concerned and slightly disgusted. "The hell you doin'?" He questioned worriedly. August paused. He didn't know if he should respond or not. "What? My arm itched. It's nothing serious," he answered nonchalantly. Greaves furrowed his brow. "... nothing serious. You're bleeding," he pointed out to him, gesturing at his still-slowly-bleeding arm.

"And? I usually scratch at myself when I'm stressed or upset. You know, whenever the bugs are under my skin and I gotta get them out-" "You're making it sound like a fucking walk in the park. Quit hurting yourself," the robot chided, making his way towards August. He pulled his hand away from his arm as gently as he could. This made him flinch and visibly panic. "Wh-What are you doing?! Stop!!" August exclaimed. "You gotta be kidding me. I'm trying to stop you from hurtin' yourself, and you act like I'm takin' away all your money," the robot groaned.

August went quiet. The.. the tone of Greaves's voice scared him. It brought back awful memories. "I'm.. sorry, Greaves. I... I don't know what I'm doing," he sighed, putting his head into his gloved hands. "I've noticed," Greaves responded. "Just.. just please, don't tell anybody what you saw me doing. I'll-" "Don't worry. I have better things to do than goin' around and spillin' secrets. If you want someone to do that, get Locksmith," he grumbled. "I'm not gonna bother you anymore," he added. He left. And it was quiet.

Maybe it was good to have someone watching over him?

[carry-the-sky]

Hi could you do 14. touch on a bruise for brio please?

ahhh thanks for sending this one in!! have some post-s3 angst, hahaha. :)

(also on ao3)

.

The next time she sees him, he’s bleeding.

Okay, maybe not actively, but the jagged line of stitches etched above his ear looks like it’s seconds away from ripping open. Beth takes in the nasty bruise blooming along his jawline, the cut splitting his bottom lip.

“Um,” she says.

Rio smirks. “What’s up?”

“I—” she sputters, because he’s just standing there with that stupid, smug expression, like it’s the most normal thing in the world to drop by the showroom after hours looking like—that. “You—what happened?”

“Not your division, darlin’.”

He says it lightly enough, but Beth reads the undercurrent of warning in his voice like a neon sign. He wants her to drop it.

Well. She’s not feeling very incentivized to give him what he wants at the moment.

“It is when you bring that”—she pointedly eyes the stitches—“into my showroom. Those look awful, by the way. Did he do them?” She juts her chin toward Mick, who’s lurking in the doorway.

The two men share a look, and Mick folds his arms across his chest. “Maybe I did,” he grumbles. “YouTube’s got tutorials for everythin’.”

Beth glances between them both. She’s about to open her mouth—to say what, she has absolutely no idea—when Mick snorts, shaking his head at the same time that Rio’s mouth twists into a grin.

“Nah,” Rio says, still smiling as he casts a glance back at Mick. “Nah, he didn’t. Your concern’s duly noted, though.”

Mick makes another sound in his throat that he quickly covers by turning it into a cough. Beth’s face flames, but she draws herself up and meets Rio’s gaze head-on. Let him try to get a rise out of her—she knows better than to take that bait.

“Fine. What can I do for you, boss?” she says, spitting out that last word like it’s acid.

Rio’s eyes fall to the floor, but Beth can still see the ghost of a grin lingering at the corners of his mouth, like he knows he got under her skin. Like he’s won. For one furious second, she imagines how hard she’d have to hit him to split his lip, leave a bruise. She imagines hurting him and liking it.

But she doesn’t really have to, does she? Beth still remembers the weight of his gun in her hand, how the recoil from pumping the trigger once, twice, three times made her hand ache for days afterwards. She remembers him choking on his own blood, the sound of it filling up the loft—

No. No, she hadn’t liked any part of that. It’s a catch twenty-two; she hates him, she wants him dead, gone and out of her life, his name crossed out in permanent ink, but then—sometimes she doesn’t. It’s the not-knowing that keeps her circling the drain, pushing that damn boulder up the hill only to watch it come crashing down again and again.

She thinks she might hate that even more than she hates him.

Beth blinks, coming back to the office. Mick’s staring her down like a hawk, but Rio’s gaze is more appraising, head tilted to the side in a gesture that’s so familiar, so him, it makes her stomach flip.

“Just here for my cut,” he says, as nonchalant as if they’re discussing the weather. She hears the unspoken words as clearly as the night he said them—you, me, we. It’s just business.

Beth holds his gaze a second longer, then tugs a black duffel out from under her desk. She hands it off, dropping the straps like they burned her to avoid brushing her hand against his when he takes it from her. If he notices, he doesn’t show it.

“What, no mama bag this time?” he says, then presses his lips together like he’s trying not to grin.

Beth glares at Mick, who just shrugs. She snaps her eyes back to Rio, barely managing to unclench her teeth before asking, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, Mick’s gonna check the books.”

Of course he is. Beth isn’t exactly shocked, but it still feels like a slap on the wrist, another reminder that there’s a hierarchy and she’s the furthest thing from sitting on top. Even this, the operation she pieced together herself, the system she built on equal parts desperation and determination—even this isn’t hers.

You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king.

Yeah, she tried that. Technically she’s still trying, but she shoves that thought down deep and ignores the twinge in her chest.

Rio’s already turning to go, slinging the duffel over his shoulder. “Next week, yeah?”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, like he’s glad he can pawn her off on someone else because he has better things to do with his time, or maybe the stress and exhaustion from these past few months are finally cracking her foundation—the reason doesn’t really matter. Beth can’t—won’t—let him have the last word.

“You should really get those stitches looked at,” she says.

He pauses, then looks back at her. In the low light, his eyes almost look black.

“I’ve had worse,” he says, and the words hang between them for a moment, heavy as a loaded gun.

Beth swallows. “Still. They could get infected.”

Something slides across Rio’s face, sharp and predatory. It’s the look he gets when he sees an opportunity, and Beth feels her stomach drop.

“Yeah?” he says, turning around so that he’s facing her again. He drops the duffel, and Beth can’t help flinching at the thud it makes when it hits the floor. “Sounds like you’re volunteerin’.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he’s moving, sliding into the chair on the opposite side of her desk. Beth’s eyes dart to Mick, but he just arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up from the list of sales projections he’s been checking.

Rio leans back in his seat. “A’ight, doc, fix me up.”

Beth stays where she is. The irritation that’s been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since he walked through the door is reaching its boiling point, but there’s something else humming under her skin, crackling like a live wire. He can leave whenever he wants—he was halfway out the door a second ago—but instead he chose to stay.

They’re circling the same drain, each of them waiting to see who will get sucked under first.

“I’ll—get the first aid kit,” Beth says, stepping around the desk only to be stopped in her tracks by Mick, who clears his throat audibly and pulls his jacket back to reveal the Glock tucked against his side.

Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? You think I’m stupid enough to try something with both of you here?”

Rio doesn’t answer, just fixes her with an amused look.

“Fine,” Beth snaps, taking a step back. She nods at Mick, tips her head in the direction of the door. “It’s in the bathroom across the hall.”

Mick gives her a two-fingered salute and ducks out of the room, and then it’s just her and Rio.

He’s still—watching her. He looks relaxed enough, legs spread a bit and his hands clasped loosely in front of him, and if Beth didn’t know better, she’d say the expression on his face is almost neutral. But she does know better. His eyes are what give him away, flashing with the same electricity that’s thrumming behind her sternum. He’s waiting for her to make a move. She knows, because she’s doing the same thing.

God, she hates how much she likes this.

She barely registers Mick coming back—it’s only when he tosses the first aid kit onto the desk that she jumps, startled back to herself.

“Thanks,” she says, injecting as much sarcasm as she can into the word.

Mick’s mouth twitches, but he goes straight back to the books, sinking into a chair in the far corner of the office. Beth rolls her own chair around the side of the desk, lowers herself slowly into a seated position beside Rio. This close, she can see each individual color in the whorl-patterned bruise that stretches up toward the hollow of his cheek. She lets her eyes drag across it, then up his temple. The stitches look—well, not great. It’s clear they were done hastily, probably to prevent as much blood loss as possible, but the wound is seeping.

“Damn, that bad, huh?” Rio asks, reading it on her face.

Beth stares down at the kit in front of her. Her first aid knowledge extends about as far as patching up a skinned knees and Benadryl for minor allergic reactions—removing possibly-infected stitches from her crime boss’ head isn’t even in the same zip code.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you want me to do,” she says, abruptly exhausted.

Rio adopts an expression of mock concern that does nothing to ease Beth’s urge to slap him. “Oh, no?” he says. “What part’s trippin’ you up?”

Beth shuts her eyes for a second, briefly wonders why the hell she didn’t let him waltz out of here when she had the chance—except she knows why, and so does he, and when she looks again—

He’s practically beaming, that smug tilt at the corners of his mouth dialed up about a thousand percent, and it’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place. This is just another game—he’s messing with her, playing with his food before eating it.

The low buzz of electricity inside her ignites.

He’s not the only one who’s hungry.

“No, you’re right,” she says, popping open the first aid kit and digging around until she finds the antiseptic wipes. “I should at least clean those stitches up. Maybe even remove them, start fresh.”

She glances up, and that’s the only reason that she sees him falter, a blink-and-miss-it record-scratch behind his eyes before he recovers, slides the mask back on. Satisfaction floods through her. She can play his game.

“Whatever’s good, ma,” he says with a shrug. “You’re the boss, yeah?” He echoes her earlier emphasis on the word, grinning when he sees the barb land. “Shit, that’s my bad—poor choice o’ words.”

Beth rips open a wipe. “This might sting,” she says, pressing against his line of stitches, hard. She’s rewarded with him hissing a breath through his teeth, the hand at his knee balling into a fist.

“Easy, mama,” he grits out.

Beth flashes him her sweetest smile. “I’m sorry, is that too rough? I thought you liked that.”

Mick makes a noise like he’s choking, and Rio looks over, eyes bright with amusement. “Ay, cállate la boca.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” Mick mumbles, still staring intently at the books.

Beth presses her tongue behind her teeth, swallowing a pinch of annoyance as she switches tactics. “Aren’t crime lords supposed to have, I don’t know, some sort of medical professional on retainer? For situations like this?”

“Nah,” Rio says with a shake of his head. “Why, you gunnin’ for a promotion? ‘Cause I gotta say, your bedside manner could use some work.”

And something inside her roars, because this is how she’s going to get him. She dabs gently at the wound beneath his stitches, swiping a thumb over the sutures. Rio winces, jerks back—

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth leans forward. She brings the antiseptic up to his face again, stops just short of pressing it to his skin, as if to ask, okay?

She sees it, the moment he drops the mask.

Beth starts at his temple, softly scrubbing at the caked-on blood that’s streaked down from the cut above his ear. Her hand moves lower, fingers gliding over his cheekbones, and she’s not sure if she imagines his breath hitching when she reaches the bruise at his jaw. She drags her thumb across it, then back again. His skin is warm, under the pads of her fingers.

“How am I doing now?” she breathes, barely above a whisper, and she knows she doesn’t imagine him dipping a glance down to her mouth. Their faces are inches apart, close enough for her to count the shades of brown in his eyes. Her fingers trace lower, toward the curve of his lips—

His hand comes up to grasp her wrist, tug it away from his face. “Don’t,” he growls, low like thunder. A warning. “Don’t do that, Elizabeth.”

He’s looking at her again, but she almost doesn’t recognize the emotion swimming in his eyes. He’s—terrified. Of her. For a fleeting second she lets the thrill of it run through her, buoyant on the feeling of power, the feeling that she’s won—

(—she did it, she shot him, she’s free—)

The moment pops like a soap bubble, and she’s empty, hollow, everything good inside of her scooped away until this is what’s left. This is who she is. And maybe this game they’re playing was never meant to have a winner.

The realization leaves her numb.

She’s vaguely aware of Mick slipping the books back onto her desk, and when her eyes flick back up to Rio, his mask is firmly back in place. Steel, untouchable.

“I’m all better now, thanks,” he says, and then he’s pulling away, pushing up from the desk, slipping out the door. She watches his silhouette until it dissolves into shadow.

She’s alone.

[queerofthedagger]

these quiet nights

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Rating: G/A || Warnings: None || Word count: 1,500 || On AO3

Tags: Arthur Returned, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Injury, Established Relationship, Protective Arthur, Idiots in Love

Summary: The first time Arthur gets hurt after his return, Merlin doesn't take it well.

Merthur Week Day 3: “You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it.” + Hurt/Comfort

*

The sound of the key in the front door floats to where Arthur’s standing in the kitchen, and he curses softly to himself.

“Arthur?”

Right, no time left to clean up the mess he’s made, not with the blood-soaked towel still wrapped tightly around his hand. He will just have to own up to being exactly as hopeless at cooking as Merlin always accuses him of being and deal with the endless amount of teasing.

“I’m here,” he calls, drawing up an innocent smile as he hears Merlin moving through the hallway. He has to suppress a wince at the sting of pain shooting through his hand where he’s pressing it against his chest—it’s not like he didn’t have much worse, but the knife had been rather sharp.

“Hey love, did you get my message about the dinner—”

Merlin breaks off as his gaze falls on Arthur, and all the colour drains from his face so quickly, Arthur’s afraid he might just faint. The picture is only worsened by how still Merlin’s suddenly become, except for where his chest starts to rise and fall increasingly fast.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, not bothering to mask the worry that’s curling around his ribs, and he takes a step closer, pain all but forgotten.

“No,” Merlin presses out, choked, his hands beginning to tremble at his sides. “No, Arthur—no, not again, please I—”

“Hey,” Arthur interrupts, crossing the remaining distance in two quick strides. The sudden understanding of what Merlin must be thinking is crashing into him with the literal weight of centuries, and he’s sure his heart is struggling under the sudden strain. “Hey, I’m alright. I just cut myself while cooking.”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him; he’s still staring at Arthur’s chest with horror etched into every line of his face, his breathing shallow. “I can’t, Arthur, I—”

“Merlin,” Arthur repeats, louder, and he grasps Merlin’s shoulder with his uninjured hand. “Come on, look at me.”

Finally, he does, and Arthur aches at the utter panic in Merlin’s eyes. Leaning forward, he presses their foreheads together and trails his fingers along Merlin’s neck until he can card them through the nape of his hair. “I swear, I’m fine. All that happened is that 1500 years have done absolutely nothing to improve my skills in the kitchen. You may tell me that you’ve told me so.”

It takes long, agonizing seconds, but some of the tension starts bleeding off Merlin’s shoulders and he takes a few, deep breaths.

“Show me.”

Arthur’s first impulse is to protest, to keep the cause of Merlin’s stress as far away from him as possible, but he also knows Merlin well enough to be sure that it would only make it worse.

Merlin’s always been over-protective of Arthur, and—understandably—even more so after he’s had to wait centuries for Arthur’s return.

It’s the first time that blood is involved though, and Arthur wishes he would’ve considered to not soak his shirt in it, of all things.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but he draws back anyway, just far enough to unwrap the towel he’d haphazardly tied around his hand when he slipped with the knife. “It only bled a lot because I cut right into my palm.”

The wound is barely oozing blood anymore, but Merlin still takes his hand so carefully, one would think Arthur’s going to break any second.

In another time, Arthur might’ve teased him about it; now, he only watches closely as the fear slowly, finally seeps out of Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur’s heart feels too big for his chest, and he has to swallow a few times against the familiar guilt that’s crawling up his throat. “See? It’s barely a scratch,” he murmurs, and if his voice comes out hoarse, Merlin doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll heal it—”

“Merlin, really, it’s nothing—

“You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it,” Merlin says, his voice teetering on the edge of panic again, and under different circumstances, it would be ridiculous how fast Arthur’s protest crumbles to dust.

“Yeah—yes, of course.”

Merlin’s fingers still tremble where they’re hovering over Arthur’s hand. He visibly swallows before his eyes turn gold, and the cut on Arthur’s hand knits itself together.

Even when there’s no sign of it left on his skin but for the remains of blood, Merlin’s staring at him as if he’s still expecting Arthur to drop dead or vanish.

Arthur bumps their heads together lightly. “See? All good.”

Exhaling in a rush, Merlin’s shoulders slump and he presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Never scare me like that again.”

“I promise,” Arthur says, and as much as they both know that small accidents are bound to happen, he can’t help but mean it, can’t help how the naked terror on Merlin’s face is still replaying in his mind.

Can’t help but think how it was too close to the expression Merlin wore all those centuries ago, and that he’ll never touch a blade again if only it means that he’ll never have to see it again.

He turns his head to press a kiss to Merlin’s temple, his arms coming up to wrap around Merlin’s waist, tugging him closer.

Merlin makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and the next second his lips are on Arthur’s in a kiss that’s just this side of desperate.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” he asks when they break apart, glancing over Arthur’s shoulder at the kitchen counter and raising a brow.

Usually, Arthur would feign offence at the obvious mocking, but all he can do is grin, the relief rushing through him so strong that it nearly makes his knees buckle.

By the goddess, they really are a bit of a mess.

“I wanted to cook for you. Because, you know, it’s been half a year since—” Arthur breaks off, turning his head away and cursing himself for the embarrassment that’s heating his cheeks despite all his resolve to not feel awkward about this.

Merlin stares at him for a second before a smile breaks out over his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheeks dimpling. He presses another kiss to Arthur’s lips and winds his arms around his neck. “Since you shoved me up against a dirty wall in some deserted back-alley, out of nowhere, and kissed me senseless for the first time?”

“Well, when you put it like that—”

“Oh, how would you put it then?”

“I’d say that after weeks of dropping hints—”

“Staring at me isn’t a hint—”

“—and it having no effect whatsoever, I simply chose a more direct approach.”

Merlin laughs softly, and the tidal wave of fondness that’s washing through Arthur at the sound is nothing new, but he still tightens his grip on Merlin.

They stand in silence for a while, wrapped around each other and only the distant sound of the city beyond the windows bearing witness.

Arthur’s not sure who’s comforting whom between the two of them, but then, it doesn’t really matter; the time where they’d pretend to not need each other is thankfully long in the past.

“Thank you,” Merlin finally whispers, a multitude of meanings wrapped into two words. Arthur can do nothing but nod, glad that his face is still hidden in Merlin’s hair.

“As much as I appreciate the thought, though,” Merlin adds, and the cheerfulness in his tone still has the faintest note of forced, “I don’t think I want to see you close to another knife today.”

When Arthur pulls back to look at him, Merlin’s smiling, but it’s brittle around the edges. Something must be showing on his face because Merlin frowns, rubbing a thumb over Arthur’s jaw. “Stop that. It’s not your fault I freaked out.”

“I could’ve—”

“No, Arthur, really. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself like this.”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. “Alright, but the same applies to you.”

A small huff slips past Merlin’s lips, but his smile has lost its strain. “Whatever my Lord commands.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head and pushing him away. “Come on, let’s order some food and watch a stupid movie. I think we’ve had quite enough excitement for tonight.”

“You just want an excuse to not move for the rest of the night,” Merlin says with a grin, already grabbing his phone from the counter and moving into the living room.

Later, when they’re curled up on the sofa, Merlin’s head resting on his chest, solid and warm and familiar, Arthur thinks that Merlin is right; he’d take quiet nights between the two of them over any excitement the modern world could possibly offer him.

He makes sure to tell Merlin that, and when it finally dispels the lingering shadows in Merlin’s eyes, he vows to keep telling him for as long as it takes to vanish the fears too.

*

Thanks for reading! ❤️

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 05

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, wounds

A/N: another day, another chapter. thank you guys so so much for the support, i am so glad you’re enjoying the story. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky’s free days weren’t something that would look good on a movie. He enjoyed being outside, away from everything. Headphones on, hat on, no one really looks at him, no one cares. Bucky learned that a long long time ago; people don’t care. He is thankful for that, he is thankful for the bleak reality where the Winter Soldier can walk the streets of New York without calling much attention to him. Sure, he has to cover his arm and hand but that’s the worse of it. Other than that, he’s free to roam the streets until twilight, headphones on, not a single thought on his mind. It’s almost as if he can escape his body. 

He kept walking down the street, eyes roaming the crowd. He didn’t know why he constantly looked through the crowd, maybe he was scared but that was something he didn’t want to delve in. He grabbed his phone off his back pocket once it rang, not expecting the sender’s name. Y/N. The text was vague, mostly asking him she needed his help and as such he changed ways on his walk, instead going to SoHo, to her flat.

Various reasons as to why she was asking for help ran through his mind. She could’ve been burgled, hurt, someone could be trying to hurt her and suddenly the walk turned into a run. Her flat wasn’t too far away from where he lived, you could reach it in a mere 20 minute slow walk yet 20 minutes seemed like an eternity. 

He reached his apartment as fast as thunder, opting for the stairs believing it would be faster if he climbed them up. The hallway was silent, he could hear his heart beat as he put his hand on the handle of her entry door, too his surprise it was open. What if she’s getting mugged? He got into position to bring down whatever threat awaited him under the door. Instead, he found the actress of her knees surrounded by various sizes of broken glass, trying to pick them all up with her bare hands while hiccuping. 

     - Y/N? - Y/N turned around, noticing Bucky standing in front of her door. Her clenched hands opened, glass rolling to the ground. - What happened?

     - I dropped the vase. - she sighed, forcing a smile which he could see through. He walked up to her, extending his hand to her. - It’s fine, Bucky.

     - Come on. - she settled her hand on top of his and he flexed his arm, helping her up. His eyes moved to her knees where some pieces of glass had lodged themselves, some merely glued by sweat and others bleeding streams down her leg, her hands too were stabbed with little pieces of glass from trying to gather it all up. Still, she moved her heel, trying to assemble the glass all in one spot. - Do you have any first aid kit?

     - There is one in the bathroom. - she pointed down the hall. She remembered Miss Olson telling her where it was in case there was any wounds, wounds which certainly weren’t acceptable considering she would have to be in short outfits the whole time during the shot. With that in mind, she looked down to see small streams of scarlet coloured blood rushing down her legs. Oh no. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was more interested in getting her proper first aid for the wounds on her knees and hands. As they reached the bathroom door, he opened it using his elbow. It was a rather small bathroom for such a big apartment, he thought to himself, could barely fit the two of them without them having to be glued together. In an effort to get some space, Bucky wrapped his hands around her waist, upboosting her in the air before sitting her in the marbled sink. Y/N could feel her whole being fire up as his hands made contact with her fabric covered skin, looking the other way hoping the cold air coming from the open door would sooth her. Once she looked back at him, he had his arms up, raising to grab the first aid red box standing just above her mirror. Her eyes darted to the muscle in his flesh arm, wondered at how his metal appendage seemed a perfect reflection of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so invested in the marvellous work that was his metal arm as when he returned with the box, their eyes locked in a manner that was definitely uncomfortable for both of them.  It was her who broke it, looking at the bathtub to her right but Bucky was still very much inspecting her; her decoultage on display from the low cut of the dress, collarbones poking through the skin as her chest went up and down. It crossed his mind that the Winter Soldier would easily kill her if he wanted. At that thought he seemed to snap of whatever daze he was in, opening the small and unwell equipped first aid box in his hands.

    - I’m gonna take the glass with some tweezers first. Is that okay? - Y/N nodded as he leaned down, putting himself on his knees so he could extract whatever bits of glass had embedded themselves with her skin. Luckily for her, she only had a few that would need to be removed as the others were merely stuck on due to the sweat covering her legs. His hand went behind her calf, slowly rising it up before starting to pull glass off her knee.

It didn’t hurt, the glass it is. There were plenty of things that were hurting at that precise moment but the glass wasn’t one of them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help it but look down at him, brow furrowed as he concentrated his task and cold hand propping her leg up. She wanted to apologise, she wanted to apologise but she didn’t know what for. Maybe she would apologise for her phone sending the message later than she intended, maybe she would apologise for destroying his day. She didn’t know about what she should apologise but she needed to apologise. Lost in her mind, she didn’t notice he had already finished extracting shards from her knees until he rubbed a wet towel on her leg, getting rid of little stuck on shards and blood which was starting to dry. As if she would break at any harsh movement, Bucky slowly let her leg return to its natural position, slightly turning around to grab an antiseptic bottle and some colourful cotton balls Y/N keep on an acrylic display atop of her skin. With those in hand, he dripped some liquid onto the cotton before returning to tend to her knees, spreading the antiseptic and then wrapping both her knees in gauze.

    - Let me look at your hands. - he got back on his feet. Y/N extended her hands towards him, a weird feeling of shame coursing through her. Luckily for her, there wasn’t much damage to her hands; a cut here and there but that was the worst of it. Just like for her knees, he got rid of extra glass and cleaned the wound before wrapping her hands with the same type of gauze as her knees. -  You don’t have any deep cuts so you’re lucky you can take that off tomorrow.

    - Thank you, Bucky. - she wanted to look him in the eye, she really did, but his fingers on her palm had her unable to take her eyes off her own palm. - I’m sorry for ruining your day off. The message was supposed to have been sent earlier, it bounced off and I guessed it must’ve sent once I got some signal.

    - Why? Was there something wrong? - he helped her from the sink, leading her off the bathroom so they could hopefully have more space.

    - It’s really nothing, I just … It’s nothing. - she sighed, forced smile on her lips which Bucky could clearly read through. - I’m sorry.

    - You’ve apologised two times in the space of a minute. Trust me, you don’t need to apologise for people doing their job.

    - But it’s your day off.

    - I don’t have days off, Y/N.

It was true, he didn’t have days off. He knew what people, what Steve, what people in the Avengers considered a day off. It was a day when all worries were gone and they could do what they loved without the stress and weight of daily life. Bucky didn’t have days off. His demons followed him, shackled to his ankle, not allowing him to forget, to sleep. He merely had days in which he wasn’t bothered by work, not that it bothered him. In all honesty, he’d rather be working, at least he could avoid his mind, run from it. He doesn’t need his consciousness when he’s working. Y/N didn’t know how to reply to his answer, there was bitter sweetness attached to it, a bitter sweetness she was unsure he wanted to share and as such she decided to change the subject.

    - I should sweep the floor. - she scratched the back of her neck, readying herself to grab a vroom but Bucky stopped her. 

    - You should sit down before you get hurt. - he suggested, pulling one of the kitchen’s highchairs so she could sit. - I can clean that up for you. 

    - Are you trying to get hired as a housemaid, Bucky? - Y/N joked, little child-like smile gracing her lips as Bucky held the vroom in both hands. Even him couldn’t help but smile at her joke. 

    - If you keep throwing jars, I think you might just need one. – he pushed the glass onto the the dustpan, opening the bin and throwing it all inside. 

    - How do you know I threw it? 

    - The pattern of glass on the ground was consistent with it. - he shrugged. - Were you trying to defend yourself? 

     - Sort of. - she sighed, looking at the bandages on her hands. - I will spare you the story.

      - Might help if you don’t.

Y/N felt ridiculous. Here she was upset over an industry she had willingly entered when a man who had his life stolen away from him was sitting next to her. You’re ridiculous, she told herself. He didn’t have a choice, he didn’t get to choose but she got to choose moving to NY, joining this industry. Just because the yellow brick road didn’t lead somewhere doesn’t mean it was any less her choice. He was forced to kill people against his will, you just need to lose weight, she told herself once again.

     - It’s silly. - she smiled the worried look in her face away. - I just miss home. This apartment doesn’t really feel like home, everything here was bought for me. I didn’t get to pick my cutlery even.

     - Then decorate it the way you want.

     - I can’t do that. 

     - What’s stopping you? - he furrowed his brow at her and Y/N opened her mouth to say something before closing it again. - It’s your apartment, Y/N. 

     - What do you suggest? Going to IKEA and buy stuff that I already have? 

     - Okay. - Bucky got up from his seat walking over to her cupboard. Y/N watched curiously as he opened the cupboard and grabbed one of her mugs before throwing it to the ground, breaking it into million pieces. - Look at that, you need a new mug.

She smiled at him, jumping over from where she was standing. Walking over to him, Y/N reached into her cupboard, grabbing a stack of plates before walking over to her window. Unceremoniously, she opened the window and let the plates fall of her 5th floor onto the ground, watching as they all broke into a million pieces onto the sidewalk. Bucky followed through with whatever contents she had left in her porcelain and soon enough, the two of them had thrown glasses, bowls, cups and jars of flowers off the window, forming a pile of shattered glass.

      - Thank you, Bucky. - she smiled at the shatters of the ground floor before looking up to him. 

     - It’s no problem. 

     - No, this definitely wasn’t part of your contract. - Bucky watched as the late afternoon wind blew her hair ever so slightly, goosebumps on her skin from the change of temperature. There was this weird sensation, a sensation only the Winter Soldier had felt and Bucky couldn’t remember, one that was the same yet a foil of the one he used to feel. He couldn’t really explain what it felt, he could just feel it. - Could you not tell Ms. Olson I messaged you?

     - Whatever happens between me and you isn’t broadcast to anyone else. My loyalty lies with the person I was contracted to protect.

     - Thank you. - she pushed the window down closed. - Do you wanna get dinner? It’s on me. 

     - I think you need to get dinner we just broke all of your plates.

Bucky and Y/N went to a small burger joint near her apartment. Y/N adored it, it reminded her of home, it reminded her of when she came back from the pub with her friends and went to whatever was opened to get chips with melted mozzarella on top. Even the scent of it brought her back home and while she had never experienced the drunk taste of chips with melted cheese, she surely enjoyed eating them at unholy hours of the evening.

     - Why would you put cheese on fries? - Bucky questioned as the employee handed her two cartoons of chips with cheese. - You put ketchup on fries.

     - Don’t knock it until you try it. 

     - I’m too old to try new things. 

     - Oh, I noticed. Only old people whine that much. 

The two of them sat down in a red booth, picks in hands as they ate the chips which Bucky found weirdly satisfying. Sure, he wasn’t gonna tell her that but she was right, it was an godly satisfying favour. Mid meal he looked up at Y/N, she had a little mindless smile on her face as she ate her fries, hair slightly in front of her eyes. It was rather ironic, one caged bird staring at another caged bird but here’s the thing about cages: they don’t last very long. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ 

[megumis-lashes]

Love, but make it Magic!

Werewolf! Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

*Contains*: mentions of blood/fighting, slight angst (if you squint), bullying, fighting, slight swearing, Enemies to lovers if you squint, school based on western standards, werewolf Hyunjin, witch/vampire reader

Nothing too bad overall. Mainly fluff. I sometimes use italics for emphasis. I use typical quotes for speech :)

Narrators POV

In today’s society, supernatural beings like vampires and werewolves are believed to be mythical creatures. Few people believe in their existence and have many false stereotypes surrounding these creatures’ existence. In reality they do exist. Supernaturals or whatever you like to call them, live a life hidden from society. They play the role of innocent humans in a world where they aren’t accepted. In certain areas, schools and housing are built to house strictly supernatural creatures. Despite their separation from the world, they still have many disputes between each other.

Name’s POV

My life has never been easy. From a young age I’ve been pressured to fit into a society that I was not designed for. I’m half witch, half vampire, a deadly combination in today’s world. Not only am I hated by humans but I’m also hated by other supernaturals due to some dumb disputes among species. I lived among humans for the the first portion of my life. I was constantly in fear for what might happen to me if I was discovered. I had to live and act exactly as a human, which was never an easy task. Thankfully, for college I was able to go somewhere I better fit in, an all supernatural college, NX University. My parents were opposed to me going due to their meek status against humans, but I needed a change in lifestyle. Thankfully I managed to get multiple scholarships to the school.

I had been living on campus for a few months. Everything was going smoothly. My stress and anxiety of blending in was long forgotten and I was able to express myself through my supernatural abilities. I took courses on witchcraft and alchemy, things I never would’ve had the opportunity to learn in human society. I shared a dorm with a fellow witch from my classes. Her name was Sunghee. She was what could only be described as text book beauty. She had glowing ginger hair that flowed over her shoulders and large green eyes. Her face was littered with freckles and she was rather slim. To go along with her innocent looks came her witchcraft. She was what humans would describe as a ‘good witch’. She practiced strictly healing and protection magic and had made a pact with herself to never engage in battle. She often spent her days collecting and researching herbs she discovered around campus.

After a long day of classes I was heading back to the dorm. I had what could be described as an infinite amount of homework and I wasn’t exactly excited to lose sleep working on it. As I approached the door I noticed something.

“Hmm? The door is locked? That’s strange. Sunghee usually leaves it open...” I mumbled to myself as I shuffled through my bag, searching for my spare key.

“Maybe she went to the shops for more herbs..”

As I unlocked the door and entered, I was greeted by emptiness. The place was sparkling clean, which was very unusual for Sunghee. She was more like the ‘messily organized’ type so seeing the place so clean was shocking. As I approached the small kitchen table, I noticed a crinkled note taped to the fridge. It read :

‘Hey name! Sorry for the sudden departure but I had some family business to attend to. I’ll probably be back by the end of this quarter. As an apology for leaving so fast I tidied up the place! Also, you don’t have to worry about caring for my plants and such! My friend Hyunjin will be staying here to take care of them! Hopefully you won’t mind!

- xoxo Sunghee ♡︎

“Only Sunghee would do something like this so suddenly and think nothing of it.” I sighed. I guess I had to get used to living with someone else for a while.

“I should really start my homework....I don’t want to be up all night.” I shook my head.

My head had been buzzing with witchcraft and algebra work for what seemed like hours. I was so focused on finishing my work before the clock struck midnight that when a knock on the door sounded through the dorm, I nearly fell out of my chair.

“Who in their right mind would arrive at this hour...” As much as I disliked the idea of talking, I still ran to open the door. As the old wooden door creaked open, the sight behind it almost made me fall over again. Standing at the door was a tall and lanky boy with longer blonde hair tied up in the back. He was beautiful and his perfection was accentuated by the small birthmark under his left check. I couldn’t put a finger on his name but I had definitely seen him before. He was deemed the school’s ‘pretty boy’ from what I could remember.

“Excuse me but what do you need? It’s quite late and I’m not exactly sure what you want from me?” I questioned as I leaned on the door frame in exhaustion.

“Oh hi. You must be name. I’m Sunghee’s ‘childhood friend’ you could say. She asked me stay here for a while to watch over her plants or whatever.” He shrugged as he pushed his hair back. Now that I looked at him closely I noticed he was carrying a large duffel bag packed to the brim.

“You? Stay here? There must be some sort of confusion. I thought a girl by the name of Hyunjin would be staying here?” I blinked in confusion.

“Oh she never explained fully then huh?” He chuckled. “My name’s Hwang Hyunjin. I’m not exactly a girl but I understand your confusion. You were probably thinking of Kim Hyunjin. She’s a girl in the shapeshifter division.” He suffled around awkwardly. “So are you gonna let me in?”

“Hoooold on there. I have no idea who you are! You expect me to just casually share a place with you for months? When I’m just meeting you for the first time now? Plus you’re a werewolf aren’t you? Bold of you to assume I could naturally just trust you!” I was beyond shocked at his audacity.

“Come ooonnn! I’m just tired ok! It wasn’t exactly my idea to stay here. Sunghee kinda sprang it on me this morning.” He sighed once again, rubbing his neck.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? If you’re trying to convince me to stay with some guy I just met than you’re doing a terrible job.” I chided.

“Look, we don’t even have to see each other or talk to each other. Ok? I’m just as unenthusiastic about this as you are but I know Sunghee would skin me alive if I didn’t care for her precious plants.”

I huffed. “I’m honestly too tired to continue with this conversation. Fine you can stay, but you better keep the place sparkling! Pull your weight in chores and maybe I won’t kick you out.” I didn’t plan on caving so easily but I was exhausted and needed sleep. I let the boy inside and then shut myself in my room for the night.

The next few weeks were....rough. Living with a teenage boy was hard enough but with him being a werewolf it was even worse. Despite trying to keep the place clean, everyday the place would be in shambles. He slept on the couch but would often shift to his wolf form while sleeping and ravage the place. Even with his sudden outbursts, Hyunjin did try his best to keep true to his deal. He rarely bothered me and the only time we really had a conversation was when he accidentally ate Sunghee’s herbs and needed information on which ones he should buy in replacement. One thing I did notice about Hyunjin was his habit to get home quite late. I was typically up into the late hours of the night doing homework so I always heard him come home. He would always be panting and out of breath, as if he had been chased back to the dorm. I did wonder what he was up to but I never confronted him about it, that is until one specific time.

It was a dreary Friday night in early October and I was finishing my physics homework for the week. Due to my growing hunger I decided to make some popcorn and maybe watch a movie later. As I was pouring the popcorn in a large bowl, I heard the front door slam open. Hyunjin must’ve been home. I didn’t greet him, as I didn’t typically do so but I could tell something was off by how he was breathing. He was panting much heavier than I had ever heard and seemed to be groaning in pain. I decided to ask what was wrong and finally discover what was happening. When I turned to question him, I was shocked by his appearance.

Standing in the doorway was Hyunjin. He was drenched it what appeared to be a mixture of blood, sweat and rain as it had been storming outside. What shocked me the most were the large scratches and cuts scattered throughout his body. The most noticeable of them were placed near his heart, from which blood seeped into his shirt. He also appeared to have some bruises forming on his face and his nose was bleeding. The last feature I noticed were the pitch black ears and tail that sprouted from his head and lower back. He was in partial wolf form.

“What the hell happened to you?!” I exclaimed. I wasn’t exactly expecting a bloody Hyunjin to walk through the door.

“Uhh....” he spun around, eyes wide in shock. He was like a deer caught in headlights. “I got into a small fight...” He mumbled, scratching his neck awkwardly. He wasn’t expecting me to be home.

“Bullshit! You wouldn’t look like walking road kill if it was just a small fight! Tell me what really happened!” I huffed. I wasn’t usually one to get mad easily but I had been suspicious of Hyunjin for a while and wanted answers.

“Fine...fine... I guess I owe you an explanation at least...” he stumbled forward out of shock and exhaustion. I quickly set the bowl down and went to help him walk to the couch. He was still badly injured.

“Fine but before you explain we better fix your injuries. You may be a werewolf but those wounds are deep. Without treatment they could get infected.” I quickly jogged into Sunghee’s room to fetch a first aid kit.

“Unlike Sunghee, I’m not a herbs and healing witch. I’ll have to patch you up the old fashion way.” I snickered. This would’ve been a lot easier with Sunghee.

“Fine, just get it over with.” Hyunjin sighed. I could still sense his distress from his previous experience.

I started with the cuts on his face. I washed them with a damp cloth followed by alcohol wipes. Hyunjin cringed in pain. I placed small bandages over the wounds and moved on to his chest. As embarrassing as it was, I was forced to lift up his shirt to access the scratches. Any other day the blonde would of teased me for being shy but he was currently in too much distress to do so. The wounds were deep but just shallow enough to not need stitches. I applied the same treatment as I did with his face but used a wrap of bandage instead.

“Ok Hwang, explain.” I crossed my arms as I huffed.

“Fine, fine.” He shuffled in his seat, cringing in pain as he felt his injuries stretch.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I got into a fight, but it was definitely more serious than usual. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now but I usually get home late and after a run in with some not so great people. They’re a group of vampires and shapeshifters that are a part of my gym class. I do excessively well in that class and I guess they were jealous of that so that’s why they first approached me. They wanted to ‘knock me down a peg’ and put me back in my place. It probably would’ve ended there but I’m so terrible at controlling my wolf form that I snarled at them. They chased me home after that. The past few weeks I’ve tried to avoid them, more for their safety than mine. I would sprint home each day in hopes of not starting any drama. Today was the one day I didn’t run home and those punks took advantage of it. They picked a fight with me and out of exhaustion I partially turned and swiped at them. They were pissed. My accidental turning led to them ‘beating me up’ except I was far stronger and managed to do more damage.”

“Wow.” Despite my suspicion I was still a bit shocked to hear the whole story. “I never would have pictured your lazy ass to be a fighter Hyunjin..” I chuckled. “That’s hilarious.” I subtly laughed into my hand. My exhaustion combined with the fact that Hyunjin ran away out of embarrassment made the situation seem hilarious to me.

“Don’t laugh! Hey! I try to keep the place clean! I do my best!” He chided, dramatically waving his hands around in exasperation. Now that I focused on him I realized he was still half turned.

“Hyunjin..” I giggled “You dumbass! Your ears are still out! Can you even tell?!” At my examination he quickly slammed his hands against his head, feeling that his ears were in fact still showing.

“Dammit! I swear these things have a mind of their own! If it weren’t for these dumb ears, I could’ve avoided all that drama!” He groaned as he tried to push his ears back into his head. I giggled and rolled my eyes. “You really do suck at controlling your wolf! As much as it pains me maybe I could help you out?” I stifled my laughter as I wanted Hyunjin to take me seriously. “Oh really? And how do you plan to do that?” He questioned, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy. “I’m part witch! don’t you remember? I could make you something that can help you control your wolf better! For the time being I can cast a spell on you to alter your appearance! I’d have to be with you during school though...” I mumbled. Despite being ‘roommates’ I didn’t consider us to be close friends

“You’d really do that for me? Ya know you’re a lot cooler than you let on.” He chuckled.

“Hey!”

“Could you maybe tutor me while your at it?”

“Don’t push your luck, pretty boy!”

Over the next few months, Hyunjin and I spent a lot more time together. Initially it came as a shock to the rest of the school. He was a werewolf and I was part vampire, both species that had strongly disliked each other for years. Along with this, the blonde was far more popular than I was. I was more the ‘nerdy witch’ type, who’s only care was grades. Despite all our differences, we got along extremely well. Someone who had never met use before would’ve thought we had been friends for years or even lovers. Due to our tight knit relationship, it was a common task to deny relationship rumors. As promised I did start working on a formula that would help Hyunjin with his transformations. For the time being, I simply cast an illusion spell on him each morning and would check with him throughout the day to assure it was still in effect. Throughout my growing relationship with the boy, I began to feel confused. I felt strong emotions for him, emotions I had never felt before and didn’t understand. I finally figured them out when on the phone with Sunghee. As I described to her my new found friendship with Hyunjin and how much I wanted to hang out with him, Sunghee pieced together that I must’ve liked him , or in her words had a ‘crush’. I immediately dismissed the idea, but over the following week I noticed just how much I liked his company. There was no other way to explain it. Thankfully it didn’t appear to hinder our friendship at the time so I simply pushed the thoughts to the back back of my head.

Currently it was approaching the end of October meaning both finals for that semester and Halloween were in the upcoming week. Hyunjin was stressed to say the least. Despite all the tutoring I gave him, he was still adamant on needing my help to prepare. I decided to make a deal with him. For my witchcraft class I had a final project which required a non-witch partner. If he agreed to do the project with me I could tutor him again for free.

“Wait so what is this project again?” Hyunjin questioned as he took a bite out of pumpkin pie. We were sitting in the kitchen discussing our study plans for that week.

“Well it’s for my witchcraft class, it’s my final project. I need a non-witch partner and I thought you’d be perfect for for it!” I chided, throwing my arm over his shoulder.

“The premise of the project is to develop the three main elements of witchcraft through a secret mission into human territory-“

“What?” His eyes widened in shock as he choked on the pie he was practically inhaling. I patted his back to help with his coughs. He sighed and wiped his mouth. “What do you mean human territory?! It suuuuper dangerous over there! How could they assign that as a school project?!” He was surprised to say the least.

“Look Hyunjin I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like I didn’t live half of my life surrounded by humans. Just because you’re some rich prince boy who has never seen a human in their life doesn’t give you the excuse to back out on me now.” I sighed as I rubbed my temples.

“The majority of humans are pretty chill. They won’t notice anything if we keep a low profile. All we need to do is collect an item for each element of witchcraft, that’s three in total. We’ll be in and out of there in no time!”

“Ughh... As much as I hate the idea of us walking directly into danger, I can’t afford to fail this test. Plus with all the things you’ve done for me, I think I owe you one.” He chuckled.

“Then that’s settled! Well leave tomorrow!” I clapped my hands together. “Better start packing Hwang!” I shouted as I dashed to my room.

That night I packed the necessities I would need for the small trip. I packed a map, money, a change of clothes, water, snacks, and some tools for spell-craft. Hyunjin and I were to be disguised as travelers who were stopping at the nearest town for some materials. The disguise had to be convincing so I told Hyunjin to wear old, battered clothes and bring nothing too flashy. The only downside to this town was their utter fear of supernatural beings. Many humans could care less but for some this fear had evolved into hatred. If any supernaturals were discovered in or near the town, they would most likely be executed on the spot. In order to keep our cover from being blown, I could not risk the use of the spell I typically used on Hyunjin. He questioned me about it before leaving.

“Wait! What about the spell? You know I still suck at control right?” He questioned, lugging his tan backpack from his bedroom.

“I can’t risk anyone noticing. You’ll have to survive without it for one day. Just wear a hoodie or something to cover your ears if they happen to appear.” He nodded, nervous as ever. “Don’t worry it’ll be fine!” I smiled. “Let’s get going.

The beginning of the project went perfectly. We were able to slip into the town with few people noticing our presence. For the grade, I needed to collect three objects to represent the three elements of witchcraft : defense, offense and recovery. The recovery object was the easiest so we decided to gather that item first. We stopped at a small tea and herb shop, which they surprisingly had, and I bought multiple bags of herbal tea along with healing incense. We did get some strange looks in the store but nothing crazy, they probably weren’t used to teenagers visiting a dusty shop like that. Next was defense. It seemed easy enough. Hyunjin suggested we buy a plank of strongly crafted wood and have it shaped into a shield. He went and gathered that part of the project while I purchased solvents from a scientist that I could use in defense spells. The final element was definitely the most difficult. Offense or in short, something that could kill. Sure we could’ve found a sharp stick or snatched a spear from some old museum but those wouldn’t get me a good grade. I needed something special.

“Hey Look! A weaponry shop! That’s exactly what we’re looking for I chided, pulling him behind me by his sweatshirt sleeve. “We can probably get a gun or something here...” I mumbled. As we entered the small shop we were greeted by an old man. He didn’t say anything directed towards us but a simple ‘Welcome. Shout if you need help’.

“Let’s go quick Hyunjin. I wanna get out of here as soon as possible.” I whispered to the boy as I signaled him to follow me into the store.

“Okay, okay. What do you want me to look for?” He whispered back.

“Find a dagger or knife of sorts, I’ll find a small handgun. Don’t buy anything too gaudy though, we don’t wanna draw attention on the way out.” I walked to the back of the store that was labeled as the gun section. I picked out two small handguns along with a couple packs of ammunition, keeping in mind how they would fit in my pack. I quickly met Hyunjin at the front counter. He had picked out a dark green Swiss Army knife along with what appeared to be a hunters knife. If the store owner didn’t walk out at that moment, we probably would’ve slipped out without paying.

“Hello! Is this all you want today?” He questioned. We both nodded placing the weapons on the counter. He wrapped the items lightly then packed them into a small bag. He handed the bag to Hyunjin as I shuffled through my bag for cash.

“Why you both look pretty young! You wouldn’t mind showing me your weapons license by any chance right?”

Shit. I didn’t think of that. I shuffled through my bag in despair.

“Umm you see sir I think I must’ve lost it while traveling....” I rubbed my neck, hoping he would buy my childish lie.

“I’m sorry but I need to see it in order for you to buy these weapons miss.” He smiled, an eerie smile at that.

“I’m so sorry sir but I can’t find it....” I awkwardly smiled back.

“Well then missy, you’ll have to give those back!” He reached and grabbed at the bag which Hyunjin had handed to me. Out of instinct I pulled it back towards me, effectively loosing my balance and stumbling back into the blonde. It didn’t take long for us to trip over each other and fall to the floor.

“You...you monsters! I knew something was up with you!” The man at the front screeched, flailing his arms about wildly. I furrowed my brows in confusion. It made sense when I finally caught sight of the boy beside me. The fall had effectively knocked the hood of his head and thanks to our luck, his ears were out on full display. We were screwed.

“Dammit Hyunjin!” I yelled throwing myself up from the floor and grabbing at him to get up. “Time to run!” Finally grasping the situation, the blonde sprang up from the floor and dashed out the door beside me. As we sprinted through the city, we heard what sounded like gunshots. I assumed they were signal flares, something to notify the people that supernaturals were there. It didn’t take long before a group of crazed humans were chasing after us with spears and guns. Just as the gunshots began to sound, I managed to put up a protective barrier around us.

“Hyunjin we gotta get out of here as fast as we can! We can’t risk dying or letting them know the school’s location!” I huffed. Running was hard. “I can only keep this barrier up for so long! Do you have any ideas?” I desperately shouted as we made a mad dash away from the town. His eyes seemed to sparkle in excitement at me asking for his help. He had an idea.

“You might not like this idea but I think it could work!” He shouted back.

“What is it?”

“I’m gonna need you to trust me fully! On the count of three, I’ll transform into full wolf form and run out of here with you on my back! There’s no way they could catch up to us!” He panted, his golden eyes shimmering in the sunlight.

“You’re really crazy sometimes Hwang, but this time I’m willing to trust you! Just don’t let us get killed ok?!”

“Alright it’ll take me a minute to transform fully! If you can hold up this barrier for that long we should be fine!”

“Alright!” We stopped suddenly. I closed my eyes in concentration as I chanted the spell for the protective barrier. As I did so, Hyunjin transformed into a beautiful, sleek black wolf.

‘Hop on!’ I heard him speak to me through subconscious thoughts. It didn’t take another word from him for me to swing my legs over his back and latch onto his fur. “Go Hyunjin!” I shouted, causing the wolf to sprint forwards, almost three times as fast as the pace we were previously at.

We ran for what seemed like years. The sounds of gunshots and angry shouts seemed to fade into the distance long ago. We had lost them. Upon passing the school gates, we both collapsed on a grassy area, Hyunjin returning to his human form. I rolled onto the ground in exhaustion. I wasn’t exactly the ‘athletic type’ and that amount of exercise was painful. I chuckled as I saw Hyunjin collapse beside me.

“What are you laughing at?!” He jeered.

“Heh, at least we didn’t die! Now you won’t fail your finals since you are guaranteed my help in studying! Aren’t you happy about that?” I chuckled again.

“Ignoring the fact that we almost died, that was the most fun I’ve had in years! Who would’ve though you to be my best friend-“ I was cut off by the sensation of warm lips against mine. Hyunjin was kissing me. I could feel my face heat up but I kissed back. His feelings were clearly reciprocated. Upon breaking the kiss, I faced away for, him and covered my face in embarrassment.

“Huh? Is that the great and fabulous name being shy at a simple kiss? You’re so weak!” He laughed as he rubbed his face against my neck, similar to how an animal would treat its mate. I chuckled. Two could play at that game. I faced him again.

“Is the great, dumb wolf Hyunjin in love with me?” I smirked as I saw the slight blush bubble up on his cheeks.

“Well maybe I am!” He chided. I smiled

“Well maybe I love you too.”

AN: This was from Halloween buuuttt imma post it now cuz y not ��. Also I watched the Skz concert this weekend and it was AMAZING. I am currently still in post concert depression buttt maybe I’ll have some motivation to write again soon! Peace out ✌🏼

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

Harvest Moon

Summary: {A light sequel to: Unforgettable}  They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio.

Ships: SamBucky 

Word Count: 5,285

The light from the orange sunset flushed Sam Wilson’s cheeks, encouraging the spread of an internally hot blush. Color blossomed under his soft complexion with all the grace of the water rings rippling under the rocks skipping on the lake. Though the sweat was just beginning to puddle in his palms and drip down his temple, Sam was only focused on the fevered senses of comfort which had been deep-rooted in his chest since arriving back home. 

The babbling waters had called him out to the docks just the same as they did when he was small. And following that nostalgia, Sam felt the ghost of supper on the stove. Turns out his fucked up Avengers mind could still remind himself to be home before the porcelain plates hit the table. No longer his Mama--but Sarah who would be annoyed with him and that was perhaps more threatening. He thought as his tiny radio played on. 

AJ and Cass had fallen asleep with the gentle nudge of a fuzzy re-run of ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ and the promise of a hot meal when they awoke. Sam’s absence would be noticed very soon.

‘Sittin' in the mornin' sun

I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes

Watching the ships roll in

Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh

I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

He swiped salty sweat from his brow and found himself dwelling on the evening, wanting to change the direction of the souring sun. No matter what, Sam always began to mourn the day at around 5 p.m. Everyday could’ve been better. The threat of night’s permanent closure and the bearer of nightmares fermented him with anxiety. He was working on that issue with his therapist. 

‘Now I'm just gon' sit, at the dock of the bay

Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh yeah

Sittin' on the dock of the bay

Wastin' time…’

Otis began the famed whistling as Sam leaned back on his hands, palms flat on the warm dock. He felt the movement just before a voice began whistling along behind him. It chirped delicately in Sam’s ear, until the song faded and with it--

Sam turned--Bucky Barnes sing-along.

Bucky grinned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nice to see you so…” He craned his neck and squinted his eyes. “Lazy.” Even he looked a bit confused by the word choice. 

“Thanks…” Sam chuckled. 

“I just mean--” Buck paused, scratching down from his chin to his neck. Sam saw that he did that often enough to earn patches of grainy red skin under his facial hair. 

Sam smirked, pulling his left thigh up and around from the edge. His eyes simmered Bucky’s blush. 

“Have you ever had the time to laze around?” Bucky asked, amazed at his own wondering. “To sit and watch the sun on the water?” He gestured frantically outward. “You’ve been a busy guy...not that I helped you with that any…”

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. Tracking your ass for Steve reaped some rewards.” He gestured for the man to rest his old bones down next to him and Bucky hesitantly took the offer. His knees cracked with sharp pops all the way down. 

“No old man jokes, I swear-” 

Sam held up his hands. “I wasn’t planning on it, Bucky.” He glanced at Steve’s old friend and for a moment, couldn’t believe the man of history books and horror stories was ‘sun-setting’ in Sam’s home-town. The orange light caressed his face in the same eerie way it’d done way back at Tony’s funeral.

“Thanks for letting me stay-” Bucky went to rub his chin again. “Not quite separate vacations but…” He chuckled, fading off. It was subconscious, the way Bucky led in with no follow through. He wanted Sam to be the one to initiate the conversation. 

But Sam bit his tongue. He deserved to hear what Bucky had to say without having to pull it out himself. 

Bucky turned with those doe eyes, tired but with enough energy left to admire his partner. “I hurt you....” He frowned, bitter with himself. “I know that and I’m damn sorry, Sam.” His voice was crisp and steady but his eyes wavered. 

Sam sighed, eyes back on the water. “We were getting somewhere, man. And you just…” He flicked his hand out. “Disappeared on me.” He paused. 

“I shouldn’t have left you...especially at such an ambiguous time for us.” Bucky stumbled slightly on his words. 

Sam took a long blink, remembering the ‘unforgettable’  feeling of being held again. “I’m more hurt by the fact that I got nothing but radio silence from you-” He swallowed. “Past that-” He glanced at Bucky “Thing we had just started. I thought we’d reached a point where we could communicate.” He shrugged with muted emotion. “We were friends.” He added with a slight question in his voice. He watched Bucky’s eyes flicker with guilt.

“If you had given me a heads up, maybe. That’s all.” Sam patted his thigh. “I can understand needing space. I understand that even answering texts can be difficult as hell when your mind feels sick. I’ve been there, Buck. Shit’s hard.” He felt a dark twist in his stomach and tried not to dwell in his own memories. “I don’t hold this against you. I know you’re a good guy.” Sam made sure Bucky looked him in the eye for that particular sentiment. “But you should know how I felt about it. Whatever relationship we end up having; Friends, co-workers, partners-” He flicked his fingers. “I’d hope you’d think about how your decisions affect me.” 

They held the next silence for a few minutes, Bucky seemingly taking in what he’d said. “For me, it was like I blinked and you were gone with the wind. I didn’t know how you were doing for months--if you were even okay. But then, out of the blue, you come back and you’re pissed about something that wasn’t about you.” Sam shrugged, feeling a bit lighter for every word he’d been simmering on for weeks. 

Bucky grimaced, looking extremely pained. “I’m really sorry, Sam.” He repeated himself with genuine regret. The light around them bled darker. “I let a lot of my intrusive thoughts control me.” He hissed at his own words but quickly moved on. “Part of me let it happen because I’m not sure I could handle a competent hand on the wheel. I’ve lived as the...Winter Soldier longer than Bucky, you know-? And Holy shit that’s something I try not to perceive.” He turned, hoping he wasn’t over-sharing. “It’s terrifying to think it’s just in my nature...being destructive. I’m always nervous-” He paused again. “Not that I’m going to hurt someone--but the feeling that I need to will bleed back into me…” His voice faded off again as he picked at a loose string on his jeans. 

“This is something you’re talking about in therapy, right?” Sam quirked his brow, needing the answer to be yes but the distant pain in his head reminded him that he dodged plenty of shit from his therapist. 

Bucky nodded and before Sam could speak again, asked the question he’d been aching to for months. “I want to go back to you-”

“Of course you do.” Sam chuckled. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “How have you been, really?” 

Sam thought for a minute. “Working myself to death, mostly.” He laughed, though it didn’t sound happy at all. “Been seeing Sarah and the boys as much as I can…” 

The sky purpled, darkness bleeding into the orange hues. The stars would soon be visible and Bucky was almost positive Sam would now push the question off, neglecting the details. For as much as he complains that Bucky doesn’t talk about himself enough, Sam often avoids voicing his own feelings. 

“Sarah was swamped and anxious, despite what she says-” 

“And what were you feeling, Samuel?” Bucky playfully tapped his friend’s knee with a smug grin. 

Sam rolled his eyes but grinned slightly at the familiar teasing. He wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words so he turned back to the water. “Thought a lot about the soul stone, actually.” The sentence rolled casually off his tongue but did nothing to relieve the stress it’d been causing him. 

Bucky tried to remain stoic but a glint of concern shined over his eyes. The infinity stone felt somehow personal between them. Though nobody had memories of their time dusted, Sam and Bucky came out with a new sense of intimacy for each other. It was as if something happened in those 5 years, which felt like only a brief nap to them and in that blip, they’d connected. Falling together was comfortingly natural after that. 

“My last thought before I...dusted, was ‘Maybe I’ll get to see Riley.’ ” Sam whizzed his palm in the air, voice breaking slightly and definitely against his will. 

Bucky’s heart twitched. They’d gone dancing in the evening after Tony Stark’s funeral. It was the most blissful Bucky’d ever been and he’d spent the night in Sam’s hotel room doing the most talking he’d ever spoken. Nothing physical happened nor did either man think of it, they were too busy soaking up all the information they could get from the other before the night ended. They could truly get to know each other for the first time. 

Bucky went on about his family, as much as he could remember anyway. Sam talked of his parents; Paul and Darlene and eventually trailed his way to Riley. 

Sam halted his next thought for a few minutes because it was damn hard to illustrate. “I know we weren’t actually dead-” He rolled his lips together “Or maybe we were, still not clear on all that.” He sighed into another little laugh. “But I just want a few more minutes with him...you know?” 

Bucky nodded, giving him a ‘go on’ expression. 

“I guess our souls were floating around in the stone but--” He broke off, looking down at the water. “For five years, Both our names were on gravestones and in all that time, I couldn’t just see or feel him one time?” Fists now clenched into tight fists. His body language was horrifyingly angry, contrasting the deep despair that was the expression on his face. He was almost sure that none of his words made sense, they’d been jumbling around in him for months like a virus and to be regurgitated so suddenly felt...messy. 

The radio, which Sam had long forgotten about, continued to roll-out soft volume static above glimpses of songs. “Fuck, Sam--” Bucky squinted towards the sky, taking in the brief glance into Sam’s head. “I know exactly what you mean…” He turned quickly, admiring Sam’s presence as his adoration for the man thumped like the heart-beat in his chest. “I always figured I’d never get that peace with my family...but I always assumed it’d be for some iteration of Hell.” He rubbed his palm against his neck and laughed. 

Sam elbowed him lightly, forcing Bucky to find his words again. 

“Knowing--through you and how I feel about you--” Bucky gestured between them. “That I had a mellow...impermanent afterlife(?) yet still didn’t get to see my family...well it feels like I was cheated.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think your soul’s going anywhere bad, Buck. Don’t know what happens after we’re gone for good but you’re not ditching me again.” He drifted off, feeling a sudden unbearable disappointment. “Nat’ll be there too.” 

Bucky took in a breath, enjoying the tickling static of Sam’s hand. “Riley too, don’t worry about that, ok?” He tapped Sam’s hand. “I think, when we go back into the weeds and the dirt--”

“That’s a tender way of putting it, Bucky.” Sam blinked, trying not to put himself in an internal coffin because he was significantly chilled now. 

Bucky smiled. “I think we get the peace of nothing. Just a return to nature with the souls of those we loved.” He rubbed his finger into the corner of his eye like a grandpa and sighed. “I’ve seen and experienced a lot of the Heaven/Hell folklore in my life and I’m not crazy about it, Sam” He wagged his finger and Sam pushed him slightly with a nice feeling of content. 

“We can only comfort ourselves, nothing greater will do it for us. So we write ourselves a multitude of fiction that may, or may not, ease us into accepting death.” Sam bumped their elbows together and eyed a distant bird as it darted across and just above the water. 

“I’m glad whatever it was that happened between us in that stone, happened.” Bucky added sheepishly. Turning to look at his partner under the increasingly vivid stars, Bucky hiccupped as a huge wave of affection hit him. “Cause I really like you, Sam.” 

"But don't discredit yourself. It wasn't just the stone that magically brought us together--" Bucky lightly pushed Sam's bicep. "I-...I can't begin to explain how much it means to me that you made an effort to be my friend...even during the last few months of me ghosting you and not listening to you about the shield. You didn't have to do that." 

Somewhere supper was threatening to get cold and Sarah was playing their meals with a concerned frown, Sam just knew that sister of his too well. He hoped to scrap together just a bit more time. "What can I say?" He smiled "I like you too. People need people, Buck. I wasn't gonna sit back and let you cut yourself off." 

Bucky laid back on the dock, laying his palm flat to his chest. He repeated the phrase over and over in his head. 'People need people.' "Goes both ways, you know Sam?" He spoke with deep confidence but continued to laze on the dock, trying to find an angle where the sun was blocked and he could stare up at Sam. “Meaning, I hope you’ve been letting Sarah help you out...and seeing your therapist.”  

Sam gently smacked his hand atop Bucky’s like a comforting beat of thunder. “Giving my best effort.” He nodded thoughtfully. 

Bucky fluttered his eyes with the pace of his heart. “This is the first time I’ve seen you so...still, Wilson.” 

Sam tossed his head back and laughed, knowing Bucky had hit the nail on the head with that one. The back of his neck cooled as he watched the slates of wood under them pale. The glimmers of tired orange light died and vapid pastel-white tones took their place, nestled in the cracks. Part of him wanted to disagree though he hadn’t the spirit. “I don’t like relaxing because it gives me too much time inside myself.” 

Bucky nodded, encouraging Sam to go on. Fearing the man would never pick it up again if he suddenly decided to close himself off again. 

“There’s too much to do...I feel like I don’t deserve it.” Sam shrugged, a clear illustration of his frustration. He’d definitely pulled this thread a few million times in his life. 

“Don’t deserve it?” Bucky sat up just a little, resting on his forearms, he slanted his head as if the adoring smile was just too heavy. “C’mon Doll--” He cut himself off a bit too late. 

“Slipping back into old habits, huh?” Sam rolled his eyes but waved a dismissive hand. “You’re cute.” He teased, shoving the guy gently. 

Bucky played along, pretending Sam had used enough of that strength of his to knock him back onto the dock. “I think now is a great time for a few days off Sam.” 

The man hummed, thinking about the public...what they expected of their new ‘Captain America’ and what the flicker of the new spot-light in his favor revealed about those who loved Steve for all the wrong reasons. Knowing, as a black man, he’d have to go above and beyond all those assumptions just to garner the same amount of respect they gave Steve. The anger he felt from that was righteous but god forbid he show any sense of hurt because then he’d just be labeled ‘ungrateful’ and ‘giving people grief’. He rubbed under his eye with a longing sigh. “I can’t really afford that right now, Buck.” 

His body shivered as he tried to push away the intrusive images; Walker slamming into the man over and over without hesitation, thick puddles of blood covering his shield, carrying Karli’s lifeless body over an audience where half of the people celebrated her death...perceiving and exploiting her as another ‘super-villain’. 

“Hey.” Bucky softly sat up and pulled Sam’s elbow until their eyes met. “I’ve been told I’m a great listener.” He didn’t pull away, instead hesitantly he curled his hand around Sam’s arm. His fingers pressed dimples into Sam’s skin. Bucky nestled there and his friend exhaled a little, unclenching his body. 

“It’s daunting.” He nodded to himself before tipping his chin to face Bucky. “A bucket doesn’t hold a tidal wave but that’s all I got.” He shrugged, noticing Bucky’s quirked brow. “Something my dad used to say...meaning there’s too much to say so I gotta give you a shitty summary, you know?” He shook his head. 

“I know I’m one to talk but try using more words...buzz-words if you have to.” Bucky looked momentarily proud of his modern vocabulary and squeezed Sam’s arm tighter. 

Sam chuckled. “Let’s say...nerve-wrecking.” He added, bumping his elbow into Bucky’s side. “With all that’s happened...I’m worried--” He landed on a word he felt comfortable with. “Being Captain America...it’s heavy on my shoulders, man. I know I can do it, I trust myself when it comes down to the wire. I hold myself to my standards.” He trailed off again, listening to distant sounds of kids skipping rocks across the water. “I know where this job’s going to take me and I’m ok with that, glad to do it.” He looked back at Bucky with determined eyes. 

“I’m not concerned with my fate.” Another deep breath racked his body, he wasn’t used to being so utterly serious with his current company. “I think about how it ended for Tony and I worry about the kid--” 

Bucky nodded, He’d only briefly been aware of Stark’s ‘surrogate’ son and spoke a handful of words to him at the funeral, Sam and Wanda at his side. 

Sam rubbed his neck with his free hand, feeling intense pressure all over his body. All his limbs tingled as if they were asleep. He’d not realized the true extent of how much this had been eating away at him. Speaking of eating, dinner was for sure cold by now…“Met his Aunt at the funeral.” She’d been proud of her boy but behind her eyes lived guttural fear, Sam knew that much. “I’m thinking about Rhodey because I sure as hell know the pain of losing your best friend.” 

Bucky tightened his grip on Sam even further. He’d lost Steve so many times but the time had come for the permanent end and by then...well had they even felt like best friends anymore? 

“I can’t even figure out what’s going on with Wanda.” Sam clicked his tongue with a bitter chuckle. “Girl’s doing her best to stay off the grid and I can’t imagine that’s good for her. I know Torres can handle himself but I wonder if I should be helping him more. Not to mention Bruce. What the hell is his mental state right now?” He added with a confused wave of his hand. “I’m even worrying about Scott!” Sam rubbed at his eyebrow and sighed. “This is all beside Sarah and the kids, who I’m constantly thinking about.” He laughed, voice strained and tired. 

Bucky waited a few seconds, just to make sure Sam had finished. In that short moment, his heart swelled for him. “You’re a good person, Sam. But you’re only one man.” He shook him just a little bit. “Truthfully, You’ll always be concerned for them. It’s just in your nature. Don’t fight the intrusive thoughts...accept their presence and remember you’ve got a team.” Bucky trailed off, going over what he’d just said again in his head. 

Sam’s shoulders sank with another deep sigh. “Thanks, Buck.” He swiped his hand down his face and noticed how much lighter he felt. 

Bucky responded physically. He tugged Sam down with him as he laid back on the dock, shoulders bumping together harmoniously which sent chills through Bucky’s entire body. The good kind...maybe the amazing kind. Hell, they tingled under his skin just about every moment he spent with Sam. That deeply buried fear that he might spend the rest of his life making himself excruciatingly uncomfortable in his own body, trapped under his skin which was always crawling,  faded from the realm of possibility each time Sam’s presence flushed Bucky with comfortable jitters. 

“You’re getting good taste, by the way-”

Bucky only squinted at him, still half in deep thought. So Sam started Otis’s whistling again and watched his friend realize what he was talking about. His nose scrunched up while he nodded. 

“How do you decide what to listen to?” Sam turned, they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I mean, how do you narrow it down when you’ve got decades to catch up on?” Sam’s mind flickered through artists like a jukebox--which was 1 thing he’d always wanted to buy, a real old school one. 

Bucky shifted his jaw, making an eerie click, a precursor to his amused grin. “I made a list of artists I remember liking before…” He waved his hand, turning slightly to watch the dewey clouds cover the moon. “And the periods in-and-out of being frozen...I have a list of what I remember by decade-” He chuckled. 

Sam sat up on his forearms. “I’d like to see these lists. The record set-up in Sarah’s living room is not a decoration, you know? It’s almost as great as mine back in D.C.” He grinned, thinking about the days, so far gone now. Mama and Sarah dancing around the kitchen. 

“It really faded off during the 80’s.” Bucky pushed up to level himself next to Sam. “And not that I’ve had much time, mind you--” he laughed. “But from there, I just follow what I’m fond of like family trees and consider the few recommendations I’ve collected.” He trailed off, starting to do the Otis whistle again. 

Sam let him follow through to the end, anticipating the tender connotations of the song to come after this day ended. “Out of all these decades...who are your favorite artists? Just curious.” Sam grinned. The answer to this question spoke loudly about a person, in his opinion. 

Bucky looked thoughtfully content with the question, grin cocking a bit to the right as he held out his fist above him. “I’d have to say...Ella-” He flicked out a thumb, no last name necessary. Sam knew that woman like the back of his hand. 

“Nat King Cole-” Bucky softened his eyes, searching again for that unforgettable memory in Sam, and smiling when the expression was reciprocated in his eyes which shimmered like sunlight through the trees. “Roy Orbison.” Two more metal fingers curled down. “John Denver and Billy Joel.” He let his hand fall back to his chest, satisfied for only a few seconds. “But I really love Judy Garland too.” 

“So you like the mellow ballads--” He hummed. “Slow and kinda sad, huh?” Sam bumped his arm lightly. It made good sense to him. Bucky enjoyed the peace which came effortlessly from lone singer-songwriters. His five--or rather six--showed a natural progression. 

“What about you?” Bucky asked, in a calm tone of voice though his eyes read eager. 

“Marvin Gaye, Sam Cooke, The Drifters…” Sam paused, really thinking over his picks. “Earth Wind and Fire, Linda Ronstadt and since you got a bonus...Billie Holiday.” Sam rested his palm flat on his chest, content to feel the steady beating that let him know he was still alive. A rich sense of comfort rushed over him as if a fresh load of laundry had just been dropped on his still body. There’d been too many days in his life where that buried thumping was only a reminder of non-stop existence, like a neverending rollercoaster. Installing him with dread, guilt and panic. He was glad to find those days fewer and farther between. 

“You make me feel like I’m livin’ in a Drifters song, Doll.” Bucky was only half teasing, for he was speaking a genuine thought but wasn’t sure how welcome it’d be.

“I like that one.” Sam hummed, turning his cheek once more toward the man beside him. “Tell me how you really feel.” He hiked himself up fully to return to his seated position, legs dangling over the side and casting faint shadows of foot-steps on the water. 

Bucky paused with concern, not sure he understood the reply before he processed it fully. He wanted to smirk but the sentiment out-weighed the amusement. He sat up too, pulling one knee up to rest an arm over while the other dangled next to Sam’s. “I got it bad, Sam.” He made their wandering eyes meet. 

“Me too.” Sam nodded with that dazzling grin. “You’re under my skin, what can I say?” He shook his head and tried to let his smile fade, finding he couldn’t. 

“If they weren’t gone...I’d be buggin’ you to meet my family.” Bucky ignored the twist in his gut because Sam’s reactions were his comfort. “Though who’s to say how they’d feel about the….” He trailed off and Sam nodded. “You being a fella part of it--”

“A fella of color, too.” Sam added with a bit of a smirk. 

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed quietly and playfully tugged Sam’s hand. They curled their fingers together in an exquisitely natural way. “They loved me…” His face stilled with longing. “I’d like to think--But maybe it’s best not to go down that road. I don’t believe I turned out how they’d wanted anyway.” He chuckled, pitfully. 

Sam tightened their grip on each other for a minute. “I know what you mean.” He bumped their folded hands onto Bucky’s thigh. “I’m always wondering what my parents would think of all this…” He flicked his free hand. “My career?” He almost wanted to laugh with astonished pride. Never had he expected to grow up to be a superhero. “Riley too.” He felt there was more to say but his mouth fell shut. 

“Just a way to hurt ourselves, I guess.” Bucky shrugged. “And we sure as Hell love to do that.” 

They laughed, sort of sadly. The full night sky enriched them with gentle peace, strengthened by the soft light of the stars. The temperature dropped considerably since Sam had initially come out. But he didn’t mind the nice chill, it braced his skin and left him with tingling goosebumps. It reminded Sam how real the moment actually was. Paying less attention to the hearty sloshes of water, Sam picked up his radio. 

‘Come a little bit closer

Hear what I have to say

Just like children sleepin'

We could dream this night away…’

He might have heard the song before, couldn’t be sure, and if he was alone he might have continued flipping stations just in case an older favorite was slipping through his fingers. But Bucky began to hum with the tune. 

‘But there's a full moon risin'

Let's go dancin' in the light

We know where the music's playin'

Let's go out and feel the night…’

Sam gathered himself up from the creaky dock, stretching his body little by little and watching Bucky’s wandering eyes. He gently held out his hands which was enough of a sign for Bucky to happily grab them and pull himself up. 

Sam shoved the radio in his pocket with a smile and though Bucky was more than just pleased to see him so jovial, he also felt a flicker of nervousness. “Man...for the first time in a while, I feel lucky as Hell.” 

‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon…’

Sam raised his brow and initiated the first few dance steps with his partner hardly noticing the movement at all. “How’s that?” 

“I’m lucky to be in love with someone I like so much.” Bucky puffed out a relaxed sigh with his words and finally leaned into the dancing with real vigor. “Sam, I’ve never wanted to spend my life with someone as badly as I do with you.” 

Wind whistled past their shoulders but Sam felt perfectly warm. He let Bucky take the lead and allowed himself to be spun. The cool light of the moon acted as a highlighter, beams of translucent white caressed the shape of Sam’s body. Following the curve of his hips and sliding down the length of his legs. “Growing old with you...becoming a cranky old man couple, that sounds like fun.” He spoke as if he hadn’t had true fun in years which was probably true. 

A bush fondly bloomed under Bucky’s skin. Behind his fluttering eyelashes, Bucky indulged for once in his life. To drink in all that was this man in front of him. 

However Sam’s eyes were now focused on a cupped hand, which had somehow slipped from Bucky’s, where a yellow toned light would flicker every few seconds. Whenever the yellow light skimmed his face, he would grin with pure joy. 

“You never caught a firefly before, Sam?” Bucky asked in jest, with a huff of amused laughter. 

Sam gently guided the bug into Bucky’s face.

“Oh, fuck! You asshole” Bucky scrunched up his nose and swatted dramatically at his nose. “I change my mind, cancel my idea. Gonna crawl back into the absolute hole that is my apartment--” He playfully backed away from his friend. 

Before Bucky could slip the last inch of his skin from Sam’s hand, the man used the full strength of his extended arm to fiercely pull him back and into his chest. Like a damn professional dancer. “I’ve been seeing myself from grief’s eyes for too damn long. Think I’m ready to take control of my own life. I want to be with you.” He playfully grinned. “What about you?”

Bucky glowed in Sam’s arms. “For a long time, I lost my sense of self…” He scratched behind his ear. “But never my fuckin’ point of view.” His voice broke just a little. “I had to see and feel every horrendous thing the Winter Soldier did. “I’ll bear the consequences for the rest of my life and I accept that.” He shook his head. “But I’m ready to accept happiness too. I really want to be with you, Sam.” 

Sam nodded, content as he’d ever been. “I think we should get our dinner before Sarah comes to drag us by our ears.”

Bucky pressed a sweet kiss, full of longing and fulfillment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” He laughed, taking Sam’s arm and pulling him down the dock with a spring in both their steps. 

‘But now it's gettin' late

And the moon is climbin' high

I want to celebrate

See it shinin' in your eye’

 ‘Because I'm still in love with you

I want to see you dance again

Because I'm still in love with you

On this harvest moon’

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

Member: hehet yeosang! 

Genre: Smut, fluff, big fat uwus just cause i’m in the mood and yes i may or may not be on my period :”)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I’m just going to put it out there: 

I might be a hard seonghwa stan, but literally all the other members of ateez have a special place in my heart. 

san appeals alot to my hardstan and performance-obsessed side

mingi appeals alot to my ‘thing’ (kink?) for duality because him in wonderland vs in every other vlive is so mindblowing. 

i have a soft spot for yunho because i personally think he’s the most down-to-earth, handsome member (no i am not saying the other members are not handsome), and not to mention he’s a whole teddy bear. 

i have a soft spot for hongjoong because of his dedication and what he gave up for this dream

my soft spot for yeosang comes in the form of how pretty and visually satisfying he is, and his savageness that’s hidden behind him being an introvert. i’m an introverted extrovert (most people think i’m an introvert but i’m really not). and let’s not get started on his voice. i really, really love his voice and i really want him to get more lines, even if it means him getting an OST solo or something. it’s possible that KQ doesn’t think his voice fits ateez’s sound or they’re just waiting out for a suitable track to highlight his voice. 

i have SUCH a soft spot for jongho because i also think his visuals are EXTREMELY underrated. i’ve said it before that i think he and yunho are the most down-to-earth looking members compared to seonghwa and yeosang. his voice is CRAZY and the fact that he’s the same age as i am makes it even more painful to swallow ;_;

the first time i saw wooyoung, i saw jimin. i was a HARDstan for bts in the years 2014 into 2017, probably the period of their breakthrough. i felt like i knew jimin by heart, so seeing wooyoung really made me feel like i was truly looking at someone who idolised jimin, someone who really took jimin as a role model, and it was wooyoung. the most heartaching thing about wooyoung was that he chose friendship over the possibility of debuting with txt, and as someone who cherishes friendship and loyalty alot, wooyoung will forever have my heart because of his decision. 

conclusion: ateez is probably the first group that i’m constantly watching out for other members because they all each have their virtues and their strengths, and even if they had weaknesses (which i don’t fucking see anywhere lol), the other members just hide them/make them seem like they don’t have any, and i think that kind of dynamics in a group is extremely hard to come by nowadays. 

i’m a sucker for performance groups, so ateez really takes the cake for me when it comes to performance. bts, nct and the boyz are the only other 3 groups i chose to stan/find out more because of their performance. 

“yeosang~” you cooed, leaning over into your boyfriend’s neck. he was staring at his computer screen, scratching his head while looking through the pdf file with all his notes. 

“mm?” he hums as you bury your nose into the collar of his hoodie, inhaling his gorgeous scent. if you could smell the word ‘comfort’, then that was what yeosang smelled like. 

“i don’t want to study anymore, i lost the motivation...” you trail off, resting your chin on his shoulder and pulling your legs over so they were draped over his right thigh. you were sitting next to him at the desk in the room of your dorm, and the two of you have been going at it for about three hours now. mid-terms were around the corner, and both of you had extremely high drives. it wasn’t difficult to catch the both of you studying at the library or in one of your rooms. 

“wae~?” he sung, finally looking away from the laptop screen and looking at you with those pretty, pretty eyes of his. 

“i’m not feeling it,” you pout, reaching up to his ear and tracing the edge of his skin. 

“not feeling it?” he chuckles, leaning back into his seat and pats your thighs, dragging his fingerpads across the faint stretch marks nearer to your hips. “waeyo? usually you’re the one who’s making me study for like, 6 hours in a row.”

“i don’t know... i’m just not feeling it,” you pout even more, motivating him to smile warmly. yeosang strains his neck forward so he meets your lips with his, and you weren’t sure if it was the stress that was getting to the both of you, but soon, you found yourself straddled on his thighs, the kisses becoming longer and heavier.

it doesn’t help that yeosang was in joggers, and the material wasn’t thick enough to hide his growing manhood. 

“is this what you’re feeling?” he pulls away and laughs, looking up at you while you brush your hair to the side. 

“molla... i just don’t want to stare at words and numbers anymore,” you whined, craning your neck downwards and attaching your lips onto his neck. you heard yeosang’s smooth, honey voice rumble in the back of his throat upon the contact. you smile to yourself, knowing exactly where his sweet spot was. 

“are you sure you want to do this now? you’re going to be tired afterwards, you know,” yeosang grins widely, his eyes slowly but surely turning more lustful by the second. 

“i don’t have the motivation to do anything else anyway, i’ll just sleep afterwards.” 

yeosang processes your words, and instinctively brings your face back up to his. the kisses were harsher, and though you were so used to kissing him, yeosang being needy was never a sight for sore eyes. yeosang carried himself like a prince when he was in public, so knowing that you were the only one who had the liberty and privilege of seeing him like this made you want him more in ways you should already be used to. 

yeosang reaches behind you and pushes the screen down to the body of his laptop without detaching his lips. he shifts himself away from the table and lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist and walks the both of you to his bed. 

“i know you’re already exhausted from studying so i’ll make this a quick one and you can sleep, okay?” yeosang mutters under his breath, in between kisses on your collarbone, his fingers already pulling up his shirt that you were wearing. 

“no... come on, i need the stress relief,” you groaned, feeling the cool air hit your stomach and chest as he riles up the shirt to your neck. 

you feel yeosang’s laughter against the skin of your cleavage, and it forms a smile on your lips. 

“are you sure?” yeosang has his lips planted to the soft skin of your breast, gently sucking on it, making you mewl and shut your eyes at the sensation. 

“this is the second time you’re asking me if i’m su--” your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers travel up under your shorts, finding your underwear and slipping a finger underneath the cloth. 

“mwoya...” he looks up at you and smirks. “so needy today?” 

you cover your eyes with your arms, embarrassed. it wasn’t like this was your first time, but yeosang knew you always felt embarrassed and shy about your sex life. both of you weren’t each other’s firsts, but it was definitely a whole new world. he was always gentle and careful with you, always making sure you were up for it even before getting into anything. 

“arrasseo~” he sings into your ear and kisses you on the lips, slipping one finger into you. you inhale sharply at the chill that was shot up your spine, the parting of your lips allowing yeosang to slide his tongue into your mouth and explore it like he didn’t already know how it felt. 

you were so caught up in yeosang’s finger in you that you didn’t notice he already had his joggers and boxers off. you felt the mattress around your legs sink, and yeosang was directly above you now, his free arm supporting himself right next to your neck. 

“a quick one, alright? i’m not in the mood to break you because i know you’ll be too tired even after a night’s sleep,” yeosang’s voice was low and lustful, but it was comforting to know that your comfort and welfare was still his number one priority. 

yeosang pulls off your shorts and underwear at one go, gently laying it on the mattress behind him. he pulls your legs over his shoulders and leans forward. you didn’t know how wet and needy you were until he pushes in completely, a strange, pleasurable sensation filling your lungs as you arch your back at the feeling of him inside you. 

“you alright?” yeosang brushes his thumb across your lips, kissing your ankles and holding his own urges back. 

“yeah, i’m okay,” you whisper, looking at him with eyes that sent him over the edge. 

yeosang slowly pulls out, only to slam back into you. he repeats this how many times, you couldn’t count. but what stole your attention away from the pleasure was the odd feeling in your abdomen where his manhood was hitting inside you. 

“yeo--” you moaned into the air, listening to his grunts while he thrusts in and out of you. but before you could say anything else, yeosang abruptly stops and pulls out.

“you’re bleeding!” 

every pinch of neediness disappears into thin air at the words that escaped yeosang’s lips. you look down, and you couldn’t believe your damn eyes. yeosang’s length was covered in blood, your blood.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

yeosang gets off the bed and reaches for the tissue box, cleaning up the disgusting, brownish-red blood that was dripping from you. 

“are you okay? did it hurt?” yeosang doesn’t care that his length was covered in your blood, only getting off the mattress and moving to where your head was. you had your hands pressed tightly against your eyes as you felt your ears burn up in embarrassment.

“hey,” yeosang gently pries away your hands and kisses your forehead, only to see a glistening layer of tears over your eyes. “oh, no, why are you crying? it’s alright, jagi. it happens, okay?” 

you pout and sigh heavily, craning your neck to look down, only to realise that the blood had stained his bed sheet. the sight horrifies you, and you jump to your feet, awkwardly crossing your legs only to see the plate-sized stain on his material. 

“no, no, it’s fine. we’ll shower together, and i’ll get the sheets changed, don’t worry about it okay? do you have any of your pads with you?” yeosang finally cleans himself, quickly pulling his boxers back on and giving you a tight hug. 

“no, i... it’s early. it’s not supposed to come for another few days...” you watch as yeosang fumbles through his own wardrobe, looking for a set of clean clothes for you. your dorm was quite a walk away, and you knew yeosang wasn’t going to let you leave his room until this was settled. 

“okay,” he nods, laying down the clean set of clothes on the chair where both of you were before. he looks at you and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, burying his nose into the crown of your head, knowing that you must feel terrible for ruining this. “we’ll shower together and you can stay in it while i head down stairs to the store and get you your pads, okay?”

he pulls away and looks at you with assuring eyes. he doesn’t bother to see your reaction, knowing that you were only going to feel shitty about yourself and protest. he pulls you into the shower cubicle with towels in hand, and helps take off your clothes, almost like a mother undressing her child to bathe. 

yeosang helps wash you exactly like a mother bathing her child, and that act alone was enough to call every single man out there who couldn’t keep his needs to himself upon the sight of a naked woman a worthless man. 

upset wasn’t a strong enough word to explain what you were feeling. of all times it had to happen, it had to happen when yeosang was pleasing you, adhering to your needs, even when he double checked if you were okay. 

not only that, you stained his bed sheet, painted his manhood with your blood and--

“hey,” his voice interrupts you beating yourself up in your head. “stop thinking about it, okay?” yeosang washes himself briskly, not even bothering to use soap though he used it on you. 

“i’m sorry...”

“no.” yeosang shakes his head, grabbing a towel and drying himself while leaving the shower on. “you stay here and get washed up until you’re satisfied. take as much time as you want, i’ll be heading down and getting your pads-- will the ones that you have in your room be okay?” 

he remembers the ones i have in my room?

“the blue packs with the wings right? the 35 cm ones?” yeosang wraps the towel around his hips and opens the shower door. you slowly nod, surprised that he remembers. 

“okay. take your time, arrasseo? do not worry about it, else i’ll hug you to sleep until you can’t breathe tonight,” yeosang shows you his signature prince smile, before pulling the shower door shut behind him. you hear his footsteps shift around the room, assuming that he changed the bed sheet, and soon the door of his room was opened and then shut. 

you resumed washing yourself, your hair, and all the parts of your body that yeosang has probably kissed before and assured you that he loved them no matter what. struggling with low self-esteem wasn’t easy, and the job was made even harder when your boyfriend looked like a prince himself. 

you were so deep in thought and for so long, that you don’t hear the sound of the door opening until yeosang calls out. “are you alright in there? i got you like... three types of pads ‘cause i’ve got no clue which ones you need for sleep and for tomorrow’s class. i got you some heatpads in case you have any cramps and a cup of hot chocolate too!”

you swore you heard your heart shatter at his words. where else were you going to find another Kang Yeosang?

you hear some movement, and yeosang gets the shower door open just enough to hand you his clean clothes (that’ll probably be too big on you), with a pad the same size as the one you have back in your room. 

yeosang was patiently packing the table and folding the clothes from before when you come out of the shower. you were drying your hair and looking at his busy back with a pout on your lips when he turns around to look at you.

“does it hurt?” he asks with concern written all over his face. he rubs both your arms gently, looking at how large his shirt was on you and looking under it to check that the bottoms he provided you were fitting. 

you shake your head, though you could feel a pinch of ache in your abdomen. 

“aw, uri aegi,” yeosang coos, pulling you into his chest. the only thing you could smell was him, because you were both wearing clothes that belonged to him, and frankly, you couldn’t be any more comforted. 

“i’m sorry. i didn’t think--”

“hey, you said it was early. you wouldn’t have known anyway. and look,” he turns around to gesture at the bed. “it’s fine.”

you look down at your feet, wriggling your toes and wondering what you did to deserve him. 

“here,” he hands you the cup of hot chocolate. “finish it then we’ll wash up and we’ll knock out for the night, arrasseo?” yeosang leans forward and pecks you on the forehead. 

yeosang talks to you about some interesting things he learnt about drones in class that day while you finish your drink. he even prepared an extra towel to be placed under your rear while you sleep, knowing that you were used to an extra layer of protection on your own bed to prevent staining. yeosang plays your favourite music on his phone while he plays with your hair and asks about your day, occasionally teasing you by asking for a sip of hot chocolate every now and then.

the lights were out and the heatpad was under your shorts against your abdomen, with yeosang’s arm draped over the curve of your waist, your arms curled up against both your chests. you hear him hum while he fiddles with the small strands of hair on the crown of your head.

“yeosang?”

“mm?”

“i’m sorry for ruining our quick ses--”

“no.” 

you felt his hand carelessly find your chin in the dark and it pulls a smile up your lips. he pulls on your chin as he leans forward and kisses you gently. 

a long, heartwarming kiss. 

“don’t apologise for something that you can’t control. you always call me your prince, so that makes you my princess, and my princess doesn’t need to apologise for anything.” yeosang pecks you on the forehead, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer to him. 

“go to sleep, princess. see you tomorrow morning.”

A/N: srfhlshfiufhieurhtoierht9erhnfergfusahdiofasf i may or may not have cried writing this yeosang uwu

[gurenscumrag]

As The World Falls Down

Word Count: 3,396

Content Warning: Child Abuse, descriptions of anxiety.

Read chapter 1 here.

The buzzing of the battlefield quieted down into nothing more than a simple humming, Shigaraki’s vision going a beautiful sparkling white until something slowly came into view. A young boy, with sky-blue locks, scabbed over skin, and red eyes sat silently on a small chair. The room around him was impeccably clean, almost entirely sterile which made the young boy shift uncomfortably. He was lost in thought, staring at the lines on the floor as though they were going to change before his eyes. Shigaraki never noticed the older gentleman stepping into the room, not until his unfamiliar voice broke the stillness and scared the boy momentarily,

“These are your mother’s hands...”

The dismembered and blue-tinged pair of hands were set down in front of a small Shigaraki. His maroon eyes gazing over them with curiosity and disgust. How could these be his mother’s hands? The hands that had once caressed and held him, the hands that were always a healthy flesh tone, and the hands that kept him safe were now crackled, leathery, and grey. How? How could this be hers?

“…your grandmother’s…

…your grandfather’s…

…and your father’s…”

Shigaraki stared at the family set, everyone was here… Mother, father, grandmother, grandfather… everyone. Everyone Shigaraki ever cared about laid out in front of him, except for one person.

Hana.

Where was Hana? Was she still alive? Is it possible she escaped unscathed? Had he kept his promise to protect her? If she was safe… Where was she? Had he not kept his promise? Did she not survive?! Where was Hana?!

“The human heart is an incredible thing,” the rough voice grumbled,  almost enough to dull and distract from the screaming in Shigaraki’s head.

The anxiety was starting to stir more and more inside of Shigaraki, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe, his throat constricting, trying to force any emotion or words he wanted to scream down. Bile rising into his throat, making his cheeks and eyes water. His family was dead. They had been dead for a while. Almost a month now, but why? Why were they dead? Who killed them? Who would do such a fucked up thing to such a small child?

“Left alone, it will heal itself of rage, grief, and all those negative emotions. But I always want you to keep them close to you… so that those feelings never fade.”

Never fade?! How could someone expect him to deal with all of these feelings? The pain he felt in his heart infected each part of his being. Each nerve, each muscle, each cell, every inch of his skin was bursting with anxiety and hatred. How could one little child carry such a heavy burden? How could anyone force Shigaraki to feel this tumultuous pain every day? Didn’t they know every waking moment felt like he was suffocating? Didn’t they know every day he woke up and vomited because he was so disgusted with himself for surviving? Didn’t they know how he stayed up for nights on end, crying because it should have been him who died? Didn’t they know how many times Shigaraki held his fingers to his throat, scared to press all five down despite wanting to die? Didn’t they know he cried for them? Didn’t they know how lonely he was? Didn’t they know how much he was suffering?

The voice and the image gradually began to fade away. The twenty-year-old Shigaraki blinked away the image of his young self sobbing and grasping his mother’s hands, but his sight never returned back to Rikiya, instead another memory took its place. This time, the image of a small black-haired child with pale skin came into view. The present Shigaraki squinted against the image, uncertain of who it was he was looking at…

Could… Could it really be���??

Hana!

Her cherubic features were always such a delight for Shigaraki to look at, it stirred up feelings of possessiveness and protection for his sister. Hana stood before Shigaraki, her pigtails bouncing slightly as she tilted her head and watched her brother who was silently sobbing, “You got in trouble again, right? Sheesh… You shoulda just kept quiet, Ten.”

Hana leaned in and Shigaraki felt a gentle pressure on his hand when she grasped at it, “You should do like I do. I’m telling Daddy that I wanna be a bride someday! It’ll make him real happy, especially if I marry someone like Daddy or you, Ten!”

Shigaraki smiled widely at the sweet words of his sister. Hana marrying a cry baby like him? He couldn’t do anything to keep her safe and happy, how could a husband like him do the same? Shigaraki sighed, despite his need and want to protect the child in front of him, she was his older sister and always was the one to take care of him.

The realization tasted sour in his mouth, but it was his sad reality. Whenever Shigaraki would run off to cry, she’d always come and find him. Always taunting and teasing the younger boy, but always grabbing his hand to pull Shigaraki along with her. It was Hana who would calm him and wipe the tears that stained his reddened cheeks. It was only Hana who could calm him down with just a few innocent, childlike words, and a toothy grin.

The tightening grip on the present Shigaraki’s wounded hand brought the man back to his current reality. The pulsating pain was enough to force out a scream, burning Shigaraki’s throat as it tore apart his vocal cords. Clawing its way out, but he could barely hear his screaming.

His thoughts, his head. Everything, it was all spinning. It was all spinning, round and round and round and round and round and round and round! These fucking memories! These stupid, memories! Why?! Why?! Why?! Why are these fucking memories suddenly coming back now?!

Rikiya sniggered, “All I see is just a hollow man… You’re just a man who indulges in destruction, right?! And in that case, you will never measure up to me!”

The incomprehensible frustration that sank deep deep down into Shigaraki’s heart. And the missing memories, slotting right into place! Feelings go hand in hand with experience! That’s right! There was more to Shigaraki than even he himself knew, there was something deep inside of him just waiting to explode, to be free and take charge. Something that Shigaraki desperately wanted to let out after all these years.

The blue-white haired man pressed his three remaining fingers against Rikiya’s thumb, the skin instantly starting to crumble beneath Shigaraki’s quirk. Flesh turning into nothing more than grey colored pieces of paper, floating off around the point the two villains were joined. Rikiya seemed to notice fairly quickly, the loss of feeling happening almost instantly, he knew he couldn’t let Shigaraki continue with his decay or it would be much worse. The older man pulled his arm slightly back before flinging Shigaraki’s body across the battlefield as though he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Rikiya was sure that Shigaraki’s quirk couldn’t have activated with only three fingers. All the data, all the experience beforehand showed he could only activate it with all five fingers? What had changed? Why now? What happened in the few seconds that Shigaraki looked lost?

A faint sound of skin scratching, labored breathing, and wheezing laughter forced Rikiya’s focus towards it. The sight before him was stunning. Shigaraki sat scratching at his bleeding and ripped skin, his eyes almost bulging from his eye sockets. His maroon eyes dark and bloodshot, yet still looked hungry for more power.

“MY HEADS SPLITTING.” The loud rasp rang from the scream abused throat, blood dripping down his chin, a sick smile etched into his wrinkled skin.

God itself would shiver at the very sight of Shigaraki right now. It was violent. It was sick. It was tortured. It was demented. It was repulsive.

While Rikiya stared at the revolting image before him, all Shigaraki could see was a beautiful and kind woman.

His mother.

An angel.

A goddess.

Her beautiful voice soothing the rage laced heart that ached inside a battle-worn Shigaraki, his mother rubbing the cheek of the young boy, “You’ve rubbed your eyes all ragged. Let’s get you some drops. It’ll only get itchier if you keep scratching.”

Shigaraki enjoyed the blissful image of his mother, her soothing words and movements could have made the man sigh in utter bliss had he been alone. Rikiya on the other hand was studying the worn-down man, trying to figure out what exactly had awoken inside of Shigaraki. He knew under the right circumstances that meta abilities could evolve, the right amount of stress was essential for pushing the abilities to new heights, but had that happen so suddenly with Shigaraki? Could meta abilities evolve that quickly? And could the user instinctually know how to use the evolved quirk right away? Was this man finally in the process of awakening? Had Rikiya unknowingly helped Shigaraki and aided in his own demise? There were so many questions, such little time, but such intriguing discoveries.

Shigaraki’s raw physicality, his raw movements, and almost immature demeanor clued Rikiya in about something. Shigaraki had trained his body hard. Despite his slender frame, the man was hardened with lean muscles, allowing for quick and targeted movements. He wasn’t bulky like All Might, Shigaraki’s quirk needed stealth and agility to pull off successfully, but his technique, was something otherworldly. Something only picked up during life or death training.

This kid… He was….

Incredible.

“I… I have also honed my stress ability, so I understand,” Rikiya started, his eyes trying to focus on Shigaraki, “I was wrong to judge you as beneath me. The fact that you haven’t vanished after taking so much damage tells me that you’re no double! Far from it in fact. You are simply incredible, Tomura Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki looked like a real-life zombie, his gaze was far away, his body moved slowly and only in one simple direction. He was predictable and open for attack. Somehow, Shigaraki’s movements fastened as he grew closer to Rikiya. Long limbs moving like a sleek cat to strike at its prey. Muscular limbs being stretched and exerted to their max all for the goal of beating Rikiya.

Shigaraki pulled his arm back, gripping the limb with his free hand to keep it steady, he shot towards Rikiya faster than the older man expected, but it still wasn’t fast enough. Rikiya’s shirt tore apart violently, buttons flying in every direction as the man’s body began to harden. He was being engulfed more and more as the stress he had stored up over the years began to leak out, he was going to give Shigaraki the respect he deserved, at an 80% stress output.

“No more games, Shigaraki! It’s time for you to die!”

Rikiya’s face looked just as grotesque as Shigaraki’s, the skin-like suit was bright red and almost splitting from the sheer amount of power it held. The suit of the power leaking out to surround his face, dripping and smearing like blood. Rikiya grinned childishly beneath it. It was his turn to feel giddy, to feel youthful. Such an incredible fight with an incredible opponent warranted for it.

Shigaraki dashed forward, as did Rikiya’s, channeling all of his power into his arm and hand in a similar manner to Midoriya’s One For All. The sheer wind force coming off of Rikiya’s arms hit Shigaraki like a freight train. Shigaraki’s breath was knocked from his lungs, his body flung through the air, and he was slammed into large pieces of flying debris. Shigaraki felt like he was in a battering ring, his body scraped and bleeding, he knew a few ribs had broken, and at least one lung was punctured, but he didn’t care. How could he care when he saw none of it, the trace-like state Shigaraki was still in was enough to lick away any pain that he felt.

Shigaraki could only see his grandfather, a kind-looking man, his voice softer than most men, but it was comforting to a young Shigaraki, “Here, Tenko! It’s your favorite— Ohagi! Eating yummy things helps make the sadness go away. Why not take a few bites, son?”

Why had Shigaraki been sad when he had his grandparents? Especially his beautiful grandmother. She always took such good care of him, her voice almost as angelic as his mother’s, but not quite there, “Don’t cry, Tenko, or you’ll make grandma cry too.”

His grandmother and grandfather were always so kind to him, so why was he always so sad? Why did every part of him hurt? Why did he always feel alone? Why did they all have to die?

He had the answers, he knew why he was hurting and just what he needed. Back then, what Shigaraki needed to hear the most from them wasn’t that he’d be okay or that the sadness would go away, no.

What he needed them to tell him was….

Rikiya stood, watching the battered and bruised villain struggle to get on his feet. His breathing hard and loud as he struggled to suck in air with a punctured lung. Rikiya watched, someone from the sidelines shouted into the earpiece  Rikiya wore, “Re-Destro!! Be on your guard! He’s headed right for you!! They had a real monster lying in wait!! Re-Destro! They didn’t play all of their cards!!”

What?!

Didn’t play ALL their cards?!

What else could these sick bastards be keeping up their sleeve?!

“SHIT!” Rikiya yelled, the deep rumbling he had been hearing wasn’t the consequence of his own power destroying the buildings and ground around them, no, it was something else. Something or someone was coming straight at them!

The booming sound of heavy footsteps descended upon the battlefield, Rikiya flinched at the deafening noise. A loud, human-like scream broke above the clouds, a ginormous rock-like body came crashing through several buildings causing them to come tumbling down with a loud groan. This gigantic monster came barreling through the buildings all for the sake of its master, Tomura Shigaraki.

Rikiya watched it, wide-eyed and struck with fear. Now it was Shigaraki’s turn to watch the other villain, his body somewhat hunched over, tired and exhausted from the fight and his eyes retained a certain sadness.

Rikiya gawked at Shigaraki in terror. Rikiya had been hounding his ability since he was a child, trying to create a move that was so destructive it was untouchable, yet somehow, Shigaraki had managed to touch Rikiya enough to activate his quirk. Small pieces of Rikiya’s skin was flaking away, floating off into the air, leaving the beginning of an open wound. Shigaraki was no normal villain, in the instant Rikiya aimed to destroy, Shigaraki had moved into it rather than defend like human nature would dictate, it would seem Shigaraki only moved to destroy.

“Re-Destro! Be on your guard, dammit!”

The saddened, but exhausted man was once more lost in the tidal wave of memories that were unlocking. It stirred up new feelings, new desires, new thinking. What was his purpose in life? .What was Shigaraki seeking to build, Why did it feel like only yesterday was his memories reemerging? What was happening to him?

Shigaraki stared blankly at his hand that was damaged, yet somehow looked perfectly fine and normal, “What do I seek to build…? No, you’re totally right. All I can do is destroy!” A sick smile graced bloodied and crackled lips, his white hair wind-whipped, his body standing taller and prouder, his exhaustion replaced with adrenaline.

Rikiya glared sharply, disgust evident in his features, his power began to consume him, covering him in their protection, “Then be gone! A world without creation has no future!” Rikiya grew bigger and bigger, his quirk gracing him with enough power to be 15 feet tall, his chest gigantic, and his hands held fistfuls of his pure raw power.

Shigaraki chuckled, loving the fact he had pushed this seemingly coolheaded villain to his brink, “No future, huh? Nah, I don’t want that either.”

What was it that Shigaraki wanted? What were his true intentions? Another memory hit Shigaraki like a strong wave, a quiet but clean home came into his view and he heard a familiar voice, “Thank you for being so understanding. I’m so sorry my boy bothered you. I’ll be sure to give him a talking-to!”

His mom?! Why was she apologizing? Why wasn’t she doting on him? What was going on?!

Shigaraki couldn’t remember why he was in trouble, he only remembered the way his father grabbed the back of his shirt. Roughly pulling the young boy through the house, his mother’s face warped in confusion and fear as she tried to catch a crying Shigaraki. His father’s strong voice booming above the sobbing screams, “Playing hero again?! Causing trouble?!”

“Stop! Kotaro! Don’t… Don’t be so hard on him! He’s just a kid, please!”

“If you don’t like it, then learn your lesson this time.” His father snarled.

“FATHER! NOOOO!” Shigaraki screamed, thrashing in his father’s grip while desperately trying to grab for his mother, “STOP IT!”

“KOTARO, PLEASE!” Tears flowed down his mother’s reddened cheeks, she was so beautiful when she cried, but it broke the young boy to see her crumble.

Now he could remember why his father was so angry with him.

Shigaraki’s father always had one rule in their house. Only one, but it was absolute. No talk about heroes.

Shigaraki now sat curled up, his knees tucked close to his chest, fresh and old tears staining his cheeks, his nails scratching his delicate skin over and over. His black hair was messy and stuck to his forehead from sweat. The gentle breeze of the outside world licked and caresses the wet points on his face, as though the world was trying to soothe this hurting boy. Kotaro watched the sobbing child from behind the glass door, a sneer etched into his face from his disgust

“You’d better not go and apologize to him for me.”

“But what about dinner? And his allergies are only getting worse!” His mother retorted back

“Rules are rules.”

“Don’t you think you’ve been too strict lately?” Shigaraki’s grandmother chimed in, her eyes watching his son-in-law curiously.

“Five years old and still no quirk. If I can’t make Tenko understand, it’ll only lead to more misery for him. Wanting to be a hero will cause him nothing but trouble. As my in-laws, I need you to understand too.”

But Shigaraki’s mother was too kind, too sweet, and too naive to allow her child to suffer in such a way. She sat behind her sweet baby boy, ointment in her hands to rub onto his worn-out skin, “Come on. No more scratching okay?”

“But I’m so itchy,” Shigaraki whimpered, the back of his hands rubbing the raw skin on his eyes

“It’s too bad we don’t know what’s causing these allergies…”

“It’s the house. I get itchy here.”

“Tenko,” She smiled, bandages and ointment applied, turning the small child towards her welcoming body, “Do you still want to be a hero?”

“Yup!” He smiled sweetly and innocently, “Because, like, nobody wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo. So I said ‘Let’s play together!’ And we played heroes, and it was super fun! And then Mikkun said, ‘you should be All Might, Ten’ I was nice and played with them, even though, they don’t have any friends.” Shigaraki threw himself at his mother, wrapping his little arms around her waist and burying his face against her chest, comforting and calming him with her scent and soft body.

“Mommy, why does father say no all the time?! Does… Does he hate me?! Will he like me if I get my quirk?”

The older woman sighed, pressing a hand to the back of his head, keeping him pressed against her bosom, “Your father doesn’t hate you… He just… He knows… He knows how hard it is for heroes.”

How I wish those were the words I wanted to hear mother… I really wish I did, but little kids are sneakier than you’d expect and simpler. When you’re little, grown-up’s words are absolute. And that’s why I needed to hear it from you all. Just one thing but the household my father built rejected me kindly.

Notes: Hi! If you want to keep better track of this series and it’s progression, here is the A03 link!

[littleoddwriter]

Damaged | Dan Torrance x Male!Reader

Whoo, another vent fic! I’ve been writing on it for a couple of days now and decided to quickly finish and upload it before my next zoom meeting, lol.  If you should read my ZsaszMask fics on Ao3, you will recognise that the title and subject matter are the same. That’s because I’ve vented by giving Roman my problems before. But the same problem is still plaguing me. By now, I’m legitimately scared of showering each night. So, yeah, vent fic. Which is gonna be rather specific again, ‘cause OCD and neurodermatitis.

summary; Your wounds on hands and wrists are distressing you, new intrusive thoughts appear and make it even worse. Dan is there to reassure you and just be the wonderful boyfriend that he is. 

notes; TW // Contamination OCD, Self-Harm (unintentional and implied intentional); Intrusive Thoughts (rather graphic! Be cautious, please); Bleeding wounds on hands and wrists. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Neurodermatitis; Cuddling; Showering; Reassurance. 

It had been a nice day. Dan had a day off. You were home, too, but you had some work for university that you needed to get done. That work was quickly finished, though, and so you ended up on the couch together, watching some movies and just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the day. It was nice. Relaxing.

Eventually, late evening was approaching and you still needed to take a shower. It was so set in your routine, on top of medically needed, and also forced upon you by your OCD, so that you couldn't wait till morning. You hated it. You didn't want to leave Dan's side, nor did you want to shower as it was. "I can feel you're stressed. What is it, sweetheart?" Dan asked, pulling you out of your head. "Just... Showering?" You replied, a little unsure if he would get it. "Right, right," he murmured, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss on your forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" "No, I don’t think so. I'm sorry. And if I put it off any longer, it's only gonna get worse." "Alright then. I'll be right here when you get back, okay?" He kissed your forehead again, then your lips and then he gave you a little nudge to make you get up. You tried to calm yourself while you got everything ready for the shower. You didn't have to look at yourself. You were pretty good at looking up to the ceiling or just closing your eyes, when you were showering. Yet, you weren't sure if any of that would help that day. No thanks to your OCD, you excessively washed your hands too many times a day to keep count of. On top of that, you were suffering from neurodermatitis, so your skin was even more prone to splitting open and getting bloody and raw from washing it so much. And at the moment, your wrists and the backs of your hands were full of little open wounds - some even a little bigger - and dry and angry red patches of skin that looked like rashes. It all hurt a ton. Burning, pulling your skin open with each movement, stabbing pains and so forth. You wished it wasn't like that. You really did. It was upsetting. You felt like people would look at your hands and see how broken you were. How beyond repair you were. You hated it. Eventually, you got into the shower and started following your routine. It went well until you caught a glimpse of your wrists, both such an angry red, the wounds standing out like they were actively trying to get attention from people. Suddenly, your mind's eye was filled with these images. You got them a lot. Self-destructive. Hard to resist at times. Yet, those were new. They showed you how you would turn the water to its hottest level and just stand there until it scalded your skin, starting to burn it off even. They showed you how you would take a knife and just slice it all off, getting rid of the evidence. It was utterly distressing. You didn't want to do any of this. You didn't! It wouldn't make your problem any better. It would make it worse if anything. You knew that. You also knew you wouldn't follow through with it. At least you hoped you wouldn't. You weren't so sure anymore, when you noticed that the water was pretty hot already, almost unbearably so. Had you turned the handle after all? You quickly turned it to make the spray lukewarm, finished off with your routine quickly and got out of the shower. Drying yourself was hurried, so was putting on your clothes. You did your hair a little and washed your hands again, like you always did. Then you pulled the sleeves of your sleeping shirt over your hands. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so you had hoped. The thoughts, the images; they were haunting you. They played in the back of your mind, over and over again, distressing you further. You got back to the living room, to the couch, where Dan was still sitting. Immediately, his attention was on you, when you entered the room. His face had concern written all over it. So he probably felt your distress. Fuck. With a sigh, you sat down next to him again, pressing into his side. You couldn't talk, you realised, as you tried to tell him that you were okay. It would have been a lie and he would have known it, but he knew not to pressure you and to accept your lies sometimes. Dan wrapped his arms around you, pressing your face into his chest. It was calming. Reassuring. Grounding. His hands were rubbing your arm and your back respectively, soothing you. Can I do anything for you? You closed your eyes, when his low, soothing voice rang through your head. You tried so hard to think, to see past the hurt and intrusive thoughts, if there was anything he could do. But you came up empty-handed. You always did. Shaking your head, you whined. You were so fucking exhausted. Tired. Broken. Subconsciously, you had started scratching your wrists. Your neurodermatitis was triggered by distress, your skin was itching and prickling all over, but your wrists were the worst. They were burning with it. Dan put a hand over the one you were scratching yourself with and stopped it. He took your hand into yours, intertwined your fingers and squeezed it gently, reassuringly. It's okay. Should I get your lotion? You shook your head, getting up yourself instead. You needed to wash your hands before putting your lotion on them anyway. So you did just that. It hurt. Your open and bleeding wounds burned and stung. So much, so that you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut and exhale forcibly to push down the pathetic whine that tried to escape you instead. Afterwards, your sleeves were pulled over your hands again; both as to not see them and to be able to cuddle back into Dan. You hated the lotion on your forearms and hands. It was a thick, sticky layer that didn't help you in the end anyway. Dan put his arms back around you, going back to rubbing you soothingly. You noticed that he had put in one of your comfort movies without question. In thanks you nuzzled his chest, kissing it briefly. You were so tired. You would have loved to just go to sleep and leave everything behind yourself; but you knew you wouldn't be able to find any rest if you were to go to bed in such distress. When the film was over, the two of you got yourselves ready for bed and crawled under the covers eventually. Dan was spooning you from behind, one arm around your middle, the other under your neck, pillowing your head. Your legs were intertwined and one of your arms was griping onto the one he had wrapped around your waist. "Do you want to tell me what upset you?" He whispered softly, gently kissing the back of your neck. "New intrusive thoughts," you answered shortly, a frustrated sigh leaving you. He nuzzled your hair on the nape of your neck with his nose, pressing another gentle kiss on your skin. "Would you elaborate on that or would you rather forget about it for now?" "I don't know. It's just... It's about the wounds on my wrists and such. I- I'm fucking damaged, Dan. Anyone who sees these wounds will know I'm beyond repair. I just want it all gone. I want them gone. I want the skin off of me. That's- That's what these thoughts- images rather - were about. And I don't know what to do because they're so hard to resist, even though they'd only make it all so much worse." "Y/N, let me say that you are not beyond repair. Nor are you damaged. I may not be able to fully understand this particular problem you're facing, now, but I'm determined to help and support you through it." Swallowing thickly, you squeezed the arm you have been gripping the entire time, wordlessly thanking him. "And listen, darling. We'll find solutions for you, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. If you need me to shower with you, I'll do just that. If you need to talk to me before, during and - or after, I'll be there to talk to you. Even when I should not be home and at work instead, we can always talk over the phone, okay? If the thoughts should become too much and you're afraid you're gonna follow through with them, I'll be there for you and help you, okay? You're not alone, I promise you." A pause. "You're such a strong man, you know? Each day, I am so proud of you. You've come so far, despite every stone that's been placed in front of you - and you keep on going. I love you, y/n and I admire you." Tears were shining in your eyes and as so often, you couldn't fathom just what you've done to deserve an understanding and amazing boyfriend, such as Dan was. "I love you, too, Dan. Thank you. I- I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. You take my breath away and make me speechless. You know how proud of you I am - each and every day for fighting so hard, for surviving like you are. You truly amaze me, my love," you responded softly, your voice breaking a little on every other word. Dan squeezed you tightly, pressing against your back and kissing the back of neck once more. Go to sleep, my darling. I'm here. I'll protect you. You heard his voice in your head again, smiling softly as you did. Then you nodded and closed your eyes, getting comfortable. Your mind was mostly quiet for the first time this evening. 

[tobswrites]

Demon Au

Part 1 Part 2!! 

One day, at the shrine, Bakugou asks Kirishima another question he’s been curious about for a long time. 

“Why do you act like a regular dog?” Kirishima answers truthfully, telling Bakugou he’s never met a regular dog before, he grew up in the mountains far from human civilization. Bakugou doesn’t believe him, so Kirishima reverses the question back at him, which Bakugou answers that he has yet met an actual fox before. 

Kirishima thinks it’s hilarious that they never met the animal of the shape they take. Bakugou listens to the dogs laugh, and he feels an unexplainable feeling of warmth wash over him. For the first time, Bakugou calls him by his first name, “Eijirou.”

Kirishima sits up alert, looking at Bakugou what seemed like fear in his eyes. He looked ready to bolt. Ready to run off as if he knew what Bakugou was going to ask, or was actually afraid of what Bakugou might say. 

Because of that Bakugou was afraid to say what he had in mind, afraid that the red-head was going to run off and he’ll never see him again. He spent years with Kirishima, not even a full 1% of his life that he’s lived. 

But something inside him is telling him to not let him go, to ask and for once, be happy with someone by his side. “Do you want to say here? With me?” Forever goes unsaid. 

Kirishima’s body immediately relaxes, but Bakugou is still tensed. “For as long as I can.” he agrees and smiles up at Bakugou, but the fox frowns, for as long as he can? What was that supposed to mean? 

A human is heard coming up to the torii, quickly Kirishima changes back to a dog, if a human knew that a demon was up here with their deity they would riot and try to kill or hire someone to kill Kirishima until their deity is free from it’s grip. 

If Kirishima were still human in front of the other humans, they would notice that he won’t age, not like them, and it would be the first sign that the red head isn’t human. 

Another years passes, and Kirishima looks back on it, he remembers the kappa that took a home in the sacred lake, and refused to leave and the time where Bakugou ate a really bad peach.

“That’s all you remember? The two least impressionable things that happened in that year.” 

“Yeah, those were the only two times I ever saw you look embarrassed!” 

The Kappa made a fool of Bakugou, the deity thought he could just remove the demon but was quickly proved wrong when he slipped into the pond, and when he threw up all that nasty acid all over himself. But it wasn’t because that happened that it embarrassed him, it was that Kirishima saw that happen to him, that made him embarrassed. Kirishima, out of everyone, was the one to see him like that. 

Kirishima stops laughing, leaning towards Bakugou’s space before the dog snaps his head back to the torii. He looks attentive, eyes scanning around, looking for some sort of...anything. But Bakugou doesn’t hear a thing nor does he see anything. 

Kirishima abruptly stands before Bakugou could grab on to him. “I’ll be back.” Kirishima says, jumping down to the ground, outside the shrine and running in all fours as a dog back out into the forest. 

Their hearing was on par, almost equal so Bakugou wonders what the demon heard that he couldn’t. He spends the rest of the day without Kirishima, he spends the rest of his time thinking that maybe Kirishima and him should climb up the mountain since it’s been a while since Bakugou has surveyed the mountains behind him. Maybe show Kirishima sight he enjoyed. 

Maybe he would even tell more about his life to Kirishima, telling him abou this and that, about what he saw on these mountains when he was just a kit. Check the old trees, pay a visit to an old shrine, a dead deity. Maybe he would see the tree guardians, have Kirishima chase those little leaf spirits around. Kirishima would love to meet them. 

And then maybe in the next decade he could introduce Kirishima to the nymphs who live near a river that was close to the sea it came from. they’ll love Kirishima, he could see it now. 

How the girls would flaunt for him, tease him, play with his hair. Maybe they’ll love the idiots smile more, play with him, and give him some scratches behind his year, the idiot would probably never leave with the amount of attention those ladies would give him. 

So it’s decided, Bakugou thinks, he’ll never take Kirishima there. At least not for another few decades. He can’t take the chance that Kirishima will leave him for a few extra pets. 

Wait.

Years? Decades? Centuries? Why was Bakugou planning his entire future with the demon? He did let Kirishima stay, but the idiot said...he said...

Fuck. “Fuck.” He curses again. He didn’t realize, he didn’t realize that Kirishima will, could, stay forever, didn’t realize that it meant that every waking minute of Bakugou’s remaining life will have red in them. 

He would die if he couldn’t see the red Kirishima brought into his life. 

Kirishima comes back home in his dog form, fur matted with mud, sticks and leaves attached and piece by piece fall. He looks happy though, but when he tries to take a step into the shrine Bakugou denies him. 

If Kirishima were to turn human, his clothes would get dirty too, the mud on his skin would stain it all and it would make such a bigger mess. 

Bakugou grabs by the scruff at the back of his neck and dumps into a warm, steaming bath. Of course Kirishima hates it, and tries to run out of the wooden tub, but Bakugou snatches his tail and drags him back in, pushing and pulling at his fur, diving his fingers into the fur to separate the mud from his fur. 

When Kirishima calms down from pretending not like being bathed, he turns into his human form while ripping away his clothing. He starts making up the stupidest jokes and telling the most ridiculous stories while Bakugou lathers up his hair with oils and shampoo. 

Bakugou doesn’t find humor in the small things like Kirishima does, but hearing the dog speak makes him smile. Listening to his deep, yet carefree voice, how it vibrates when he laughs, or how his shoulders moves under Bakugou’s touch. 

Its overwhelming him. Drowning him completely into something thick and warm, something that causes him to want, to want and want and want. He’s not afraid of what’s pulling him in, he wants to be drowned in it, and so he lays his head on Kirishima’s shoulder and he confesses. 

“I love you.” he tells him again and again. He wants to hold him for as long as he can, forever, he wants him forever. Until Bakugou can’t go on, until he has all nine tails, all 900 years of his life. 

He wants to show him the beauty, every inch of the forest, and brag about Kirishima to every demon they see along the way. He wants to do things, unimaginable things, things he never thought of until Kirishima came into his world. 

He dips his hand into the water, holding him by the waist and pulling him tighter to his body, only the wall of the bath is what separates them. Bakugou nuzzles into the crook of Kirishima’s neck, muttering the phrase over and over again. 

One day Kirishima doesn’t come home, and at first Bakugou isn’t worried. But as the morning bleeds into the afternoon, then into the night, Bakugou whistles loud and worryingly, hoping for Kirishima to come back. 

He starts to stress panic, and his villagers decide that tonight is perfect to say hi, so Bakugou can’t spare a minute to do a quick trip around his territory to just check for the demon dog. 

He waits for Kirishima as the moon and stars replace the song, he waits as the fireflies start to appear, he stations himself at the edge of engawa, arms crossed, and in a slouch position, waiting for Kirishima. Because what if, in just a minute or two, Kirishima comes home and Bakugou isn’t there to greet him? What if the dog comes home, just as excited as Bakugou is to see him, only to be disappointed when Bakugou is in a deep sleep?

But when Kirishima does come home its early in the morning, just a minute before the sun starts to rise, and Bakugou hasn’t had a wink of sleep. He feels Kirishima now, and stands up to greet him with frustration, anger, annoyance, impatient and mad beyond belief. 

But his demon dog returns home in his human form, limping and looking defeated. He clutches his arm that is stretched farther than it should, and there’s bruises and blood covering his body. 

His anger is gone, and he runs towards Kirishima, afraid and frantic, angry at the world for not keeping him save. He uses his own deity spiritual powers to heal Kirishima, he uses all his medicinal herbs to touch what hasn’t been healed. 

“What happened Ei?” Kirishima winces but doesn’t speak, falling to Bakugou’s arms and not waking up until the next day. 

Then I wrote this in Kiri POV: Kirishima doesn’t wake up until that day’s evening. He’s wrapped up in bandages he asked the villagers for, and some herbal medicines he used to make. He’s also alone in the shrine. Even as a demon he can feel the spiritual power surrounding him, he could even feel it healing all his wounds. And speaking of his wounds, he looks towards the heavy door set, knowing fully that Bakugou was in the other side, probably sweeping with a scowl on his head. Before he came back, there was a thought, something he had thought long and hard before even entering the boundaries of Bakugou’s terrain, that maybe he shouldn’t come back. Coming back meant telling Bakugou the truth, meaning that Bakugou will hate him and would want him out of his shrine, out of his home forever.

And that’s all I had. So...I wonder what happened in my head after that. 

[silenthillmutual]

wah i got “lover dearest” stuck in my head

cws: violent intrusive thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking (referenced)

this bar doesn’t feel right on dankovsky’s skin. really, no bar does. even through his coat he feels the griminess crawling on him, itching to get beneath the leather, and if he weren’t wearing gloves he’d scratch it off in great bloody chunks. he scowls at the table in front of him, like if he furrows his brow hard enough the thought will simply vanish. he’s always hated that sort of violent imagery. he’s not innocent, not unaccustomed to viscera or even to the act of drawing blood, but something about turning his claws on himself puts a hole in his stomach.

he’d swallow himself if he could. the image isn’t going away, reel rewinding in his mind. it’s a flimsy moving picture, but it doens’t have to be good to stick to his mind.

daniil crosses his legs, one foot over the other. he came here to think, to stimulate his mind to progress. the change of scenery was supposed to help him through the stagnation he’d hit in the stillwater. the town hall was never conducive to thinking - even its usual occupants failed to do much more than act, to carry out orders based on little more than rumors. and maybe that was the philosophical point behind its arcitecture: a place for the human soul to follow the law, whatever the cost. or maybe the people here are just that stupid.

well. at the current moment, daniil can’t claim to be any better. coming to a bar to think was a moronic decision. he’d only come to bars to escape his thoughts, to drown them out for a while so he could... so he could do anything, really. sleep. socialize. he never did much of either, never did them well, never did them for long. sometimes with the drink, the thoughts would disappear altogether and he could just sit, staring at a wall, enjoying the blessed silence. other times the drink would numb it for long enough for him to make it back to his flat, stumbling over books in the dark, only to be attacked the moment he shut his eyes. images would come at him, blurring into one another, and a small but concise voice he didn’t recognize reminding him he knew the way to open a vein, to slit a throat, to puncture a lung. the best way to practice is on himself.

“fancy meeting you here, oynon.” daniil scrambles in his mind, throwing himself at the sound of burakh’s voice. outward, he’d be embarrassed of his actions, but as it is he can only feel relief. “i’d have thought our humble bar beneath your status.”

burakh says it with a lilt in his voice to indicate a joke is being made, and one at daniil’s expense. daniil clicks his tongue against his teeth and doesn’t quite shake his head, looking towards the bartender. even that hurts. “i’ll learn to make do with the materials provided me,” he says, “but i think you’ll notice i’m not drinking. i never do, on the job.”

“of course not. what a scandal that’d be!” burakh takes his seat across from daniil and plants his elbow on the table, drawing daniil’s eyes toward him. it’s nice to have someone across the way to look at instead of the wall, and it’s all the better that burakh is prettier than their surroundings. he doesn’t seem as out of place here as daniil would have thought, given the owner of this establishment. but artemy does shift in his seat to look at him, and the expression he wears is restless. “what are you doing here though, dankovsky, if not drinking? it’s the middle of the day, and i doubt stamatin has much medical insight to offer you.” his eyes flick to the dancer.

daniil cuts him off before he can make a truly ridiculous suggestions. “you never know. andrey was in the health sciences before he left for architecture. and perhaps the local alcohol offers a modicum of protection against the pest.” burakh’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and some of daniil’s self-assured smugness rushes back. he’s not sure what part of his response burakh is surprised by. “i am here to think,” he offers. “thought a change of pace would help. i’m at a dead end, colleague.”

funny. it feels good to admit it. it’s never felt good to admit to anything before; to failures, to attractions, to the shifting and clouded thoughts inside his head... “i’m flattered, emshen, that you would trust me with such a dark and embarrassing secret. bayarlaa for this precious gift.” daniil thinks about kicking him under the table. then burakh sighs, dropping his hand from his face and sitting up a little straighter. “i have an idea, but i’m not confident in it. feels like i’m missing something, but i can’t put my finger on what.”

"is that why you’re here at a bar in the middle of the day?” burakh gives him an odd look and he feels his insides being tugged down. he’s always been affectless, and never sure if his words come across with the earnestness he means them. in a moment of weakness, he continues: “have i said something wrong?”

and for all of that, burakh snorts. “i don’t know what i’m doing here,” he says. “i don’t frequent bars at all. i just felt -” he stops himself, and daniil watches, transfixed, as his cheeks dust over with pink. he’s on the verge of putting a stop to whatever words were coming next, and daniil is suddenly and desperately invested in their trajectory. he leans closer, almost over the table, hoping his expression conveys his interest. burakh looks baffled, almost shy as he mumbles out, “i felt my line being pulled here.”

“oh.” he doesn’t know what that means. he gets the sense that it’s something important, and something personal, by the way burakh looks at him. he can’t help that his first thought is like a fishing line? but for once he manages not to simply say the first thing to come to mind. he says the second instead, just as honest as the first and every bit as embarrassing as burakh’s admission. “i’m glad.”

whatever it means, daniil’s choice of words seem to have been the right ones. burakh is a little less hunched in on himself now, fingers going lax against the table. daniil vibrates, a sudden impulse to reach out and grab one, to use him physically as the lifeline he’s latched onto mentally. especially as he’s looking ready to jump up and leave, and daniil does not want to be left with his thoughts again. “i shouldn’t have come here,” he says without thinking.

burakh looks at him, brows knit, eyes working through something. daniil licks his lips to try and work on a follow-up, but he freezes. even in burakh’s presence, the thoughts come back. you’ve shot a man already. daniil’s fingers curl on the table, nails against the leather against the wood. you are a violent and ruthless man. his teeth burrow into his lip, digging for blood. you will give in and hurt yourself again. the taste is stale against his tongue. it’s only a matter of time. daniil’s eyes start to flicker nervously. i am patient. “what i said, erdem - when i said that,” burakh shakes is head, puts a hand in his hair. daniil watches, eyes aching to stay focused. “i thought you were calling the kids ‘mutts’. i didn’t realize you meant actual dogs.“ a nervous smile plays over artemy’s mouth. “they left that part out. i guess because they told you?”

“yeah,” daniil says, not sure what it is he’s agreeing to. you could slip the cuff of your glove up and sink your nails in. you could tear at the skin until it bleeds. you could take your hand and slam it down on the table so hard it breaks your wrist.

“i’m sorry. i don’t really think we’re better off without you.”

daniil blinks at him. it takes a moment to process what he means, to work through the layers of awful commands in his head. “i didn’t mean that,” he says, though perhaps he should have let burakh think he did. burakh gestures for him to continue, and he finds himself uncertain. he feels the stress high up in his throat, difficult to breathe for the doubt blocking his airways. he can’t manage even a grimace like this, sweat gone cold along the back of his neck. “the bar,” he says. “i shouldn’t have come to the bar.”

like that, the floodgates open. daniil puts a hand to his temple, muttering almost more to himself than to burakh. “being here brings back such memories. bad habits. destructive habits.” stop where you are. he’ll think you’re a freak. “drinking myself stupid just to keep the -” daniil shuts his mouth so quickly and sharply his teeth ache. “nevermind,” he says, and what should be a grumble comes out just as monotone as all the rest. when it looks like burakh is about to encourage him, he snaps out, “you wouldn’t understand.”

despite the tone, burakh looks at him with soft eyes. it irritates daniil to be looked at this way. it’s uncomfortable, much kinder than he deserves. he could take it if burakh wanted to shout, if this turned into a brawl like his first few years at university. he’s not used to this, whatever it is. “maybe not,” burakh concedes, “but wouldn’t you feel better talking about it anyway?”

“i never have.” even to his own ears, he sounds surprisingly vulnerable. it makes him want to tug the coat tighter across his chest, deflect whatever future empathy comes his way. there’s a mix of emotions flooding through him now: a distaste for pity, a fear that he’s crossed the line, a sense of longing to be understood where it’s impossible. he’s not sure what sort of response he’s looking for or, more to the point, what he needs in this moment, only that it’s difficult to look burakh’s way. he can still feel the other man’s eyes on him, waiting for him to continue, and a panic sets in that he truly doesn’t know what burakh wants. he feels, all of a sudden, so ludicrous like this, when there’s so much else to be worried about. “nothing seems to work anymore,” he confesses. “it’s hard not to fall back on...”

he trails off, but burakh picks up on it. “yeah,” he says. daniil feels something and looks down. he hadn’t realized he’d left his hand sitting on the table until now, hadn’t felt it at all until other fingers grazed over his. he knows there must be a flush to his cheeks, and the urge to take hold of the hand swells up. his own fingers feel a tremor underneath burakhs, and more wild and impulsive thoughts crowd his brain. more pleasant this time, but far more unobtainable.

“i don’t think you can help me,” he says flatly. saying it feels liberating, and the next words come easy. “not with this.” burakh tilts his head. “some battles must be fought with the mind, and not the hands.” burakh laughs. it’s a pleasant, light sound, and daniil’s heart races to hear it. equal parts endearment and frantic confusion. “what? what did i say?”

“nothing i shouldn’t have expected.” burakh’s fingers curl a little around daniil’s own, before they start to slip away as he stands. “you do what you need to, dankovsky. and if you find you want help all the same, you know where to find me.”

“actually, i don’t,” he blurts out, and he knows his face is on fire now. “it’s you who usually finds me, not the other way around.”

burakh blinks at him, and extends his hand. daniil can see where it’s calloused over, and thinks about touching it. the imagined texture is a far cry different from the images he’s conjured to mind all afternoon. not soft, perhaps, but gentle. “have you got a map?” he asks. daniil sets his bag on the table too quickly, eliciting another quiet giggle as he searches for the paper. burakh pulls a pen from his center pocket, circling an abandoned factory not far from where they are now. “i trust that you won’t give out my secret,” he says, and slides the map back over.

he’s gone before daniil can think of something else to hold him in place.

it’s for the better, daniil tries to rationalize, but his body screams that it really isn’t. he’s alone again, in a place that begs him to give in. the thoughts are at bay for the moment, only because daniil’s kept his attention the way burakh’s hand had felt on his. he fantasizes, for a second, what it might have felt like with his glove off, to know the brush of those rought finger pads against the back of his hand. and then, easy as anything, the thoughts are back to torment him. images of broken fingers, of pencils shoved through skin. daniil stands before he can wallow a second longer, and heads for the bar.

[dxrksong]

Shattered Glass old mirror chapter 2!

Warnings: uhhh trauma basically and time distortion

Enjoy!

-------------

You woke up, not immediately recognizing where you were. Slowly the memories came back to you as you got up. 

Waking up in the mirror, being found by the Jims, convincing them to take you with them, the giant dog, Wilford, Dark, the mirror……

You sighed and looked at your hand. It still hurt from yesterday. You unwrapped the bandage a little and saw that the bleeding had stopped at least. 

To unwrap it and pretend it's just a part of the collection or keep it and not potentially get an infection…….they wouldn't notice right? 

You rewrapped the bandage as someone knocked on your door

"MirrorJim! Time for breakfast!"

Oh, the Jims! You smiled, going to answer the door

"Thanks Jim! Let's go!"

The three of you started walking down the hallway

"Hey MirrorJim, is your hand ok?"

Oh of course

"Oh that? Just some battle scars! I got into a fist fight with a mirror!"

"What did the Mirror do Jim?"

"It called me names and insulted my friends. It held no honor"

"Didya win?"

"Of course! No mirror can hold it's ground against me!!!"

The Jims looked at you in awe, CameraJim going to point his camera at you

"And here we have the infamous Mirror fighter! Tell us MirrorJim, what was it like?!"

You stood up straighter, a confident smirk on your face 

"Quick and painful on both sides! But nothing i couldn't handle!" 

You laughed at the Jim's faces as all three of you walked into the kitchen and sat down. 

At the table the host, Bim, Google, and Dr.Iplier were already there. In the kitchen  Chefiplier and yet another Googleplier were working on breakfast. 

As you and the others waited, idle chatter came up.

"So how's your first night here, Y/N?"

"You know it actually went pretty well! I didn't even have a nightmare!"

"Heh, you sure? Your hand says otherwise."

"Oh, right. Speaking of which, Doc, think you can…?"

Dr.Iplier sighed as he playfully rolled his eyes, reaching out for your hand. You gave it to him and he looked over the damage.

"What happened"

CameraJim piped up

"They fought against a mirror and won!"

"A MIRROR? *sighs* well it's not the craziest thing I've seen before. Just try not to make things any worse and you'll be fine"

The Doctor rewrapped the bandage before letting you have your hand back

"Thanks doc!"

At that moment Dark walked into the room, more or less being dragged by Wilford as they sat down. You haven't spoken to dark since last night. This is bound to get awkward. 

Luckily for you food started leaving the kitchen as soon as the rest of the Iplier egos showed up. Things were relatively calm as you soon forgot the tension between you and dark, joining in on the pleasant conversation.

And then everything started spiraling downhill from there. 

You heard the sound of a car driving up to the manor as you finished your breakfast. Curious, you walked up to the window. 

Only to curse yourself internally. 

It was Mark. Like the Actor. Actor Mark! He's probably here for you! 

You're Dumb, not stupid. You know this probably isn't your body, the scratches on your hands and that memory from last night is enough proof of that. But if the others are aware that you're not them, this could be your end. 

It would be your end if Mark got to you as well. You're not about to let yourself get caught in one of those forever looping adventures of his. 

Think Y/N where's the safest place to be if you're spotted by the mad man himself or not? That would probably be with his rival….

And you're in a weird situation with said rival. 

You winced, not noticing Dark had walked over to see what you were staring at until he spoke up

"What the hell is HE doing here?" 

You nearly lept out of your skin! You sighed, trying to calm down from the mini heartattack.

"I don't know. But you're going to find out anyway aren't you?"

Dark nodded before walking off. 

Dang it you forgot their rivalry was the fighting kind. Guess you're sticking with someone else then. 

"Wonder where he's going? Y/N! Want to follow him?"

Hello replacement Damien! You turned to Wilford 

"Sure! We can be the sneakiest ninjas of all time! Jims! Wanna join us?"

"OOO! Good idea!! We gotta get our first sneaking mission all on video!!"

"Camera's already rolling MirrorJim!"

What can go wrong?

---------

Everything. Everything could go wrong. 

First of all, this group is neither sneaky nor…..ugh dang it what's the word??? You're obvious, is what I'm trying to say! You're 1000% sure Dark has known since the second hallway that you were all following him. 

It wasn't long before Dark found Mark roaming the halls. The confrontation started off rocky and with a lot of anger on Dark's side. Mark was nothing if not cool with a touch of nervousness. 

A facade, you're sure. You watched the confrontation with growing anxiety. This could end in an all out brawl. 

And then a glint off of something caught your eye

"Mark……"

Wilford had taken out his gun, your body freezing in place. Shit, you forgot. Mark and the Colonel didn't exactly get along well either!.......

WHY CAN'T YOU MOVE??

you can't-oh no…..panic attack...like back at the mirror. Seriously. An episode?? HERE???? Worst possible place for this!! You're 15ft away from a mad man and 3 feet away from the gun that shot you! 

You were starting to panic, your anxiety and paranoia skyrocketing through the roof. And then you heard it

"Y/N? Y/N!"

"Don't you DARE-ACK!"

Mark shoved Dark away before heading over to you. Next thing you knew, you heard a gunshot and you were running down the hall. 

This is too much…..too much all too soon. You couldn't hear anything but your own breathing as you ran through twists and turns of the manor. Where where you going? Who were you trying to go to? You don't know anymore! The only people who you knew was safe were back there with that guy! 

You soon slowed to a stop, tired as all hell. You panted for breath as you stopped to look around. 

Is it…..snowing? Wait, you've seen this before. The final episode of wkm! Before the Colonel found out Abe was hired to spy on him! 

Did you do this? 

""Did you do this?" Y/N asked themselves as the host drew near, the red Google Android at his side"

"Host? Google?"

"The host figured Y/N would like a quiet place to relax and have their questions answered. Follow me"

The host continued to mumble to himself as you caught up to the two of them. You decided to ask the obvious of what's happening here

"What is this?"

"It's an area spell I assume. It slows down time to an extent that even I'm not sure of"

"How come you're not effected? Did you do this?"

The host laughed

"Afraid not. If I could do this I would've used this ability a long time ago. And to answer your first question, I can only assume it's because you consider us friendly"

"Wait me? I'm really the one doing this??"

"If you weren't then I'd question who would be."

You nodded slowly. Made sense. You all stopped at the Host's office

"The Host is going to go defuse the situation and calm down the ruffians. The Googleplier will assist you with any questions you have."

You nodded and watched the host leave before looking up to the bot, who walked inside the office. You followed behind and found a couch. You sighed, putting your face in your hands as you sat down

You felt the bot sit down nearby and you took in a breath before sitting up

"Ok Google"

You heard a beep

"Quiz me on common knowledge"

"Ok"

--------

The gun had fired, Wilford standing on his two feet now. Mark had quickly dodged out of the way and went to try and hide when the Jims started screaming

"WHERE DID MIRRORJIM GO?!"

"MIRRORJIM DISAPPEARED!!!!"

Dark: "WHAT?!"

Dark immediately grabbed Mark by the neck, lifting him up in the air

Dark: "WHAT DID YOU DO YOU SLIMEY-"

Host: "Mark did not do anything."

The Host walked into the room

Wilford: "Host….I should've known"

The host nodded towards Wil

Host: "Y/N had ran away at the sound of the firing gun. They are currently at my office, being caught up with current events"

Mark wrangled himself free from Dark's grip

Mark: "that's great! I'll go keep them-"

Host: "The Host suggests you do not corner Y/N less you want to meet a very gruesome death"

The host warned. Mark gave the Host a very disbelieving and confused look as Dark and Wil raised an eyebrow

Mark: "Y/N? The harmless Y/N that couldn't harm a FLY? Are you SURE you're not losing it Host?"

The host chuckled to himself

Host: "you shall see in time. They are not the same Y/N you once knew a century ago."

The host started walking away.

Host: oh also the dog's are fighting. 

That got the ego's attention as they immediately ran outside. 

Host: "The host chuckled to himself, knowing full well Diva was no where near Chica"

----------

You sighed. Nothing much had changed in accordance to most things in your past life. But when you asked about certain artists, you found that several important ones or even special songs were just flat out gone as if they didn't exist. 

If that wasn't bad enough you realized that that means you're the only one that knows these songs and it's up to you to not forget them. Yaayyyyyy more stress. 

You ran your hands through your hair. You suppose you'll be fine. You could be fine. You WILL be fine. You could get used to this just like everything else you've dissociated from. 

"Your body language suggests distress"

"Yeah, well. I'm under a lot of it…...can I tell you something if you promise not to tell Dark or Wil?"

The Google raised an eyebrow

"Noted?"

You sighed again, leaning into the couch

Pt1

[katsukiboom]

Hello!! Hope you have been taking care and resting!! If it’s ok, could I ask a scenario with Sero (male reader if possible or gn!). Reader and Sero works together as pro heroes, and one day Sero isnt feeling his best and collapse in the middle of a fight, reader goes apeshit because he is seriously injured. All the drama, all the stress, all the laughs when sero and reader realize he just have the flu, maybe a love confession at the end?? Thank you so much for sharing your write with us!

Thank you so much for reading my dude! It took me longer than I thought since I went back and forth between writing, discarding then writing again lol but here it is! I hope you enjoy it my dude! I kept the reader gn but if something slipped pls let me know!

Ko-Fi || Commissions

———————————————————————————————————–

ThatWednesday morning the streets were quite busy, everyone going side to side toget their Easter decorations and presents in due time for the upcoming weekend.With a little bit of struggling, you made your way through the crowd as youwaved hello to some of the civilians that recognized you and even took somepictures of you in your new outfit. You were beyond excited to live your lifeas one of Japan’s most popular heroes, and being with your best friend only madethings even more interesting.

Sero hadbeen with you ever since high school and quickly became your metaphorical otherhalf; you did everything together to the point where people were alwaysconfused when you were without the other, and whenever you brought up the factthat it could do so much as annoy your friend, he was quick to shot thosethoughts down to remind you how much he enjoyed your company. You figured youhad fallen for him somewhere between graduation and landing your first job as asidekick, as he had never let go of your hand throughout the tough times and alwaysmade you feel like there was a positive side to every little bad thing.

But thatday something was off – Sero was always the one to keep his trademark smilewhen faced with stress, fear or any other emotion people could describe as‘negative’, so you wondered why he was looking so gloomy as he joined yourpatrol, the bags under his eyes almost reaching his cheekbones. He lookedterrible yet he always managed to awaken a spark within you, and that day thatsame spark told you to keep an eye on him in case things happened to get dirtyquickly.

- So, Cellophane, - you teased after greetinghim; he only nodded in response. Taking note of the slight red that tinted hischeeks, you assumed he was not up for joking around. – You look like a trainran you over twice, is everything okay?

- Yeah,don’t worry about me, - Sero’s voice was more like a whisper and you almost hadto lean in and ask him to repeat himself, but he made sure to give you alittle, weak smile after that to let you know that everything was… sort of okay, but you knew better thanto believe it. Before you could even reply to that, he cut you off, his bodymoving faster than anything else. – Has anyone given you the daily report forthis part of the city? – He asked, and you could see his hands tremble just alittle bit.

You had towalk faster than usual whenever you went out patrolling with him, but that dayit felt more like you needed to. –They’ll be sending it shortly from the office, - you replied with littleenthusiasm. – Are you sure you’re okay? We can go back if you want, I’ll comeback later. You don’t look so bright today.

- Yeah, youtold me, - he retorted, his smile disappearing only for a moment.

And beforeyou could say something else, a strange smell appeared in the air, one that youwere all too familiar with – ashes and smoke. You looked at your partner with aworried look and gave him a simple nod before running off, activating yourjumping quirk to be able to get there much faster. You managed to get to thetop of a building and got to see a big black cloud covering half of a block afew streets away, and you texted Sero the location, not before hesitating asyou pressed the ‘send’ button. Whatever it was he was dealing with would haveto wait, although you hoped he wouldn’t overexert himself if it came down to afight.

You gotthere just a minute after him and witnessed a bunch of police officers on thefront lines trying to control the crowd of civilians gathered around theentrance of a building, murmurs and whispers going around about some fewhostages that had been taken by the villain. The flames engulfed threedifferent places yet they seemed like they were dying out, and you took just alittle second to assess the situation and figure out what the best course ofaction would be.

Your planswere cut off however by an explosion coming from the farthest building, amuscular body walking out of it with smoke covering his form and keeping ithidden from everyone’s view – some people didn’t doubt to scream and run forcover yet most stayed in place, frightened looks on their faces as the villaincalmly made his way towards the crowd.

- Finally aworthy opponent, - the deep voice spoke through the smoke. You recognized it immediately;it was Cinder, the one new villain that had been threatening most of that partof the city. Clenching your fists, you gave Sero a side glance and saw hiseyelids closing just for a second. – I was waiting for some goddamn heroes tofinally show up. Didn’t imagine it would be… you two, - he added with disdain,and it only worked to anger you further, even if you knew that was the idea.

You werethe first one to attack, using your quirk to jump at him and kick his chest,although his strength greatly bested yours – you barely managed to make himtake back a few steps before he grabbed one of your ankles and threw you away,but just as your back was about to crash against a tall column something wrapped around our body andpulled you back. Strong arms caught you midair and you looked up to see aflustered Sero above you, holding you close to him until he realized yourposition. He gently placed you down before confronting the villain himself,shooting tape at him yet it was easily deflected. – We have to work togetherfor this, - he mumbled to you, and you understood what he meant.

You jumpedback and forth between the buildings as Cinder threw balls of ash and smoke yourway, your quirk barely helping you to avoid them as you distracted him enoughfor Sero to make his move. The first few tries were unsuccessful to say theleast, but the fourth time was the charm; Sero got a hold on his right arm andyou took the chance to activate your best ability, Jumping Jax, to kick thevillain right on the jaw and then once more on the sternum.

You thoughtyou had him that time, you really did – but when he gained his composure and lookedat you with rage-filled eyes, you knew you had jinxed it. Cinder let out ascream as his body started emanating more and more smoke, turning thetemperature up before he let out an explosion much like the one from earlier. Thewave caused by it threw you back to the crowd, who managed to move away just intime to avoid you hitting them and causing someone else to get hurt.

- S-Sero, -you grumbled as you shakily got on your knees, but as you scanned he area allyou could see was the debris and small flames. – Where are you? – You couldhear the crowd get louder and louder as heels clicked beside you, and youlooked up to see a woman with long blue hair and a cheery smile with a red,small whip on her right hand and her left clenched in a fist. – Midnight, - youwhispered, and she only looked at you and smile.

- Long timeno see, kiddo, - she said before walking forward. – Are you working on thisalone?

You didn’t havethe time to reply as Cinder let out a loud roar and charged towards thecivilians, but the more experienced pro-hero was able to meet him halfway andblow her aroma right on the villain’s face. It took little over three secondsfor it to have the desired effect but even in his dazed state he kept onrunning, and you put yourself in front of the crowd ready to jump on him again.

What you didn’texpect were the many tape strands wrapping around his body and holding him backuntil the substance in him finally made him surrender.

Following thedirection the tapes came from, you were able to finally locate Sero inside oneof the buildings across the street – it seemed as if he had hit a shop window,which explained his current state: his forehead was bleeding as well as hisleft arm, his uniform torn apart on the chest area and stained red as well. He lookedeven redder than before and, as soon as your gaze fell on him, he gave you aweak smile before completely collapsing down inside the store while all youcould do was watch in anger and sadness.

Screaming hisname, you ran to him without thinking twice.

-

The soundof beeping filled the room and the smell of medicine was strong, even forsomeone in his state. Sero wasn’t really sure what woke him up but it certainly wasn’tbecause he was feeling better already – his body felt heavy and his eyelidswere still droopy, the blinding white lights above him preventing him fromfully understanding where he was. It hurt to look sideways but he tried anywaysuntil he saw a figure to his left, a black blur that became clearer and cleareras he focused his sight.

It was you sitting on one of the twoarmchairs next to the big window, your head slightly to the side as you slept seamlesslyeven in that position. He was confused for a moment until he tried to reach outto you and noticed his bandaged arm and the many tubes connected to him, andwhat had happened came back to him as he let out a pained sigh. Had you takenthe villain on alone? No, he remembered seeing Midnight there as well. Were youhurt from the attacks? You didn’t seem like it, although there were a fewscratches on your skin but those were only superficial.

He’d never speak about his feelings withanyone, as it made him feel a bit weird to say he was in love with his bestfriend. Your face looked peaceful and he wondered what could be going throughyour mind; he couldn’t help but feel guilty for all he put on you. Sero regrettednot informing you about his condition and making you worry, but above all heregretted not being able to comfort you and tell you that everything would beokay. His heartbeat started picking up at the blurry memory of you running tohim before he passed out due to the high fever he had been suffering that day,and the beeping of the machines rose as well, making you open your eyes in theprocess.

- W-what is going… - you mumbled, stilllooking sleepy, but as soon as he looked at you with a small grin you openedyour eyes wide and jumped off the chair, going to his side faster than he could’veimagined. – You’re awake! You’re finally awake, you asshole! – You exclaimed asyour hands cupped his face carefully. Your eyes were red and he wondered if youhad been crying. – You could’ve told me you weren’t feeling well! I would’ve sentyour ass home without a single doubt, you put yourself in danger!

- (Y/N)…

- Don’t get me started on what happened toyou! Do you think it’s nice to see you all covered in blood and with brokenbones? The doctors told me you had two broken ribs, your left arm wasfractured and you got the nastiest concussion on your head that luckily barelygrazed your skull so don’t give me that crap and tell me to ‘be calm’ – hey saidyou’d need at least four weeks to recover. How do you think I felt? How doyou think I’d feel if something worse had happened?

- (Y/N)!

- No, shut it! – He tried talking but everytime you cut him off and raised your voice a little more, to the point whereyou were almost screaming. Every word you spoke felt like a knife going intohis body, stinging like salt on a wound, and he knew it was all because of hisown stupid decision. He deserved it. – I’m always going around worried aboutyou, trying to get you to be okay, and you pull this shit off! You’d be just asmad as I am right now if it were me. Had you thought about it? Had you thoughtabout me being in your position? – Sero noticed your eyes had started to water,and before he knew it your whole expression went from furious to sad. – I just…I can’t afford to lose you.

The sudden confession was the last straw asyou broke down crying, carefully placing your face on top of his chest andletting everything out. For a moment he was frozen, your words sinking inslowly, but once he understood what you meant he smiled and softly raised onehand until he was able to put it on top of your head, caressing your hair asyou cried. He dared not to say anything that could break the mood anddefinitely didn’t want you to feel he’d be mocking you in any way, so all hedid was hold you the best he could until you finally rose up, wiping your faceand wincing a little bit.

- Does anything hurt? – He asked, worriedthat you might have some hidden injuries. You just shook your head as you satnext to him on the bed but kept your sight away, instead looking out the windowto the afternoon sun. – I understand what you’re saying, and I won’t deny it. Ideserve all of it; I didn’t think I was also putting you at risk here. Had yougone to get me and had Midnight not been there… - he shuddered at the thoughtand decided it would be better not to finish that line. Instead, he reached outand took your hand as tightly as he could, your warmth making him feel betteralready. – I’m just glad it was all over and that you’re here with me. I… can’tafford to lose you either, I can’t think of anyone better to look at when Iwake up.

Giving you his usual smile, he witnessedthe most incredulous look appear on your face as you turned around, your facealready flushed. – W-what did you say? – You asked with a small voice, and hecould tell he was about to cross a line that couldn’t be rebuilt if broken, buthe decided to take the chance anyway.

- I think you heard me right the firsttime, - he added without hesitating. He moved a little to look at you better,supressing the pain his sides felt whenever his body did anything. – I’m gladyou’re always here for me and I’m here, just being a mess. Am I a bad personfor wishing you always to be with me? Am I selfish if I want you all to myself?– No response came from you but he saw your eyes watering again, the exactopposite thing he had expected. – I’m sorry, I’m speaking nonsense now, - helet out a sigh and tried to pull his hand away from yours but you stopped himby holding onto it.

It was his turn to look dumbfounded. – Do…do you mean it? – You whispered, another few tears slowly falling down yourcheeks.

- Have I ever lied to you?

You looked down at your feet, then at thewindow and then back at him, this time with a big smile on your lips to mirror his.– If you’re selfish for wanting that, then I guess we’re both selfish, - youreplied, removing your hand from his and placing it on his face. – I just neverthought we’d be doing this… especially in a hospital room. - You both laughedas the whole situation dawned on you, but there were still things runningaround his mind to ask you, things he wanted to know before anything else. –The doctors told me you had the flu that day, and it’s been two days and you’resupposed to still be recovering; if I also get sick, you’ll have to take careof me.

- I’d gladly do so any day, - he retortedwith a teasing tone, although it was cut short by his body already feeling nearits limits for the time being. Letting out a groan, he leaned back onto thepillows and closed his eyes, hoping that would help with the headache that wasbuilding up.

- You’d better get to rest, love, - you said,and it was enough for him to turn red again with the new nickname you used forhim; he had waited a long time to confess to you, and it had all happened soquickly he still hadn’t had the time to even realize it. His heartrate monitorwent up just enough to make you giggle, and you placed a soft kiss against histemple. – Don’t you worry now; I’ll be right here when you wake up.

[justacouplebandfics]

We’ve got scars on our future hearts (Jalex) - Chapter 1

Description: Alex dealt with self harm when he was younger, that's over now though- he's better, until he's not. Struggling with the idea of self harming as an adult Alex keeps the issue to himself, but living on a tour bus with your band there's only so long you can keep something a secret.

Warning: Contains graphic descriptions of self harm

It’s also available here on Wattpad, and you can find the masterlist here. 

Disclaimer: All self harm is valid self harm, all notions of 'real' self harm discussed in this fic come from a place of internal struggle.

Alex's POV

I flopped down on my bunk, exhausted from tonight's show- it was amazing, the crowd, the lights, I never get tired of it- looking out to the sea of smiling fans I'm always reminded how lucky I am to have made it like this. I couldn't ask for better band mates, the tour is going incredibly well, which is why it's just so hard to comprehend why I feel so down sometimes. It feels so selfish. There are people who have genuine problems who get up every day and get on with it and I'm sat here miserable for no good reason.

Pulling the curtain to my bunk closed I reach up to the little shelf and grab my sunglasses pouch, opening it and reaching into the little back pocket I sit and look at the small collection of blades. There's a couple I jimmied out of a pencil sharpener years ago and a new box cutter blade I brought the other week, I let out a tense breath as I pick it up and set it down on the duvet in front of me.

I struggled with self harm when I was younger, honestly I'm pretty sure with how the world is nowadays you'd be hard pushed to find someone that didn't at least think about it at that age. By younger I mean high school, your so-called glory days, even though it's only the privilege few who seem to get to actually enjoy it. It was never anything terrible- cat scratches really, yeah my thighs are absolutely riddled with scars but I can't remember ever cutting myself in a way that was any kind of impressive.

It got better after high school, All Time Low kicked off and I didn't even think about it for a while, kind of just forgot it was ever a thing- every now and then things got a bit too stressful and I'd return to it but I'd knock it off within a few days. I'm an adult, this isn't the way adults deal with their problems, it felt embarrassing to do it, childish.

I don't even remember what brought it back this time- I was alone on the bus one evening, a rare occurrence, and I just did it. I wasn't even particularly sad or angry, the urge just came out of nowhere and overwhelmed my mind. I never got rid of the blades from high school, they sat unused in an old sunglasses pouch for some glasses I hadn't picked up since high school either, so it was just too easy to go back to my bunk and slice up my thighs. I know I should have thrown them out, or not brought them with me, but a little part of my brain kept telling me at some point I'll relapse again and need them, and I guess it was right.

It wasn't anything awful that time either, three shallow cuts at the top of my thigh, on the clean scar-free skin I hadn't touched in my high school days. The clean up process was so familiar it was almost comforting, wiping up the blood, sticking on a bandage, pulling up my skinny jeans trying not to let them drag against it. I sat back down in the front lounge all too aware of the pain on my right thigh as Jack and Rian walked in, all smiles from meeting some fans. I plastered on a smile too and pretended everything was fine.

After blankly staring at the blade in front of my for what feels like forever I let out another tense breath and pick it up, pressing the sharp corner into the pad of my thumb, trying to find a reason for wanting to do this tonight. I can hear the guys' voices faintly from the front lounge, laughing about something; I think to myself for a moment that I could just put this away, I could go out there and laugh and have fun, I don't have to do this, but almost immediately the overwhelming urges drown those thoughts out.

I feel like I'm running on autopilot as I slip the blade into the back of my phone case, get out of my bunk and grab my towel from where it's hanging. Walking towards the front of the bus I crack open the door to the lounge, peeking my head around "Hey guys, I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick- was anyone waiting?" With only one shower on the bus and some venues not having any in the green room you can very quickly find yourself 5 deep in a queue to get clean after a show. My brain might be overrun with urges to slice my thighs open at the moment but I'm not about to be a queue-jumping asshole.

"Nah, you're all good" Jack pipes up from the couch, giving me a toothy grin that makes my stomach twist up. It's not that I feel guilty about them being sad or worried if they find out, it's the sheer embarrassment of it- this is something I did when I was younger and didn't know any better, it's not something you're meant to do as an adult. I can just imagine the looks of judgement if they ever saw, the mocking pity, I just couldn't do it.

After some sounds of agreement from the other guys, way more interested in whatever movie was on than who was in the shower, I shut the door and pick out a pair of joggers from my wardrobe as I head to the bathroom. Locking the door behind me I reach into the shower and turn it on, facing the shower head towards the wall. After shimmying out of my skinny jeans I put the toilet lid down and take a seat, pulling the blade out from the back of my phone case, balancing it on my thigh.

I bite at my bottom lip as I try to conjure up a reason for doing this again, coming up completely blank. My mind just feels like static at the moment and this is the only way I know how to stop it.

Fuck this is so stupid.

I pick up the blade and press the corner into my thigh, just below the ones from yesterday, slowly dragging it across my skin. The familiar pin prick pain lights up my thigh as I see little beads of blood start to form. Grabbing some toilet paper I wipe it away, repositioning my blade at the start of the cut again and going in for another swipe. I carry on like that for a little while- swipe, bleed, wipe, until there are 4 cuts, definitely not deep enough for any kind of medical attention, but deep enough to gape a bit.

I sit and admire them for a moment, I'm almost proud- the cuts now are so much deeper than they were in high school, they feel more like real self harm, but they still aren't deep enough. I press a clean piece of tissue to them to soak up the blood while I clean off the blade, drying it and slipping it back into my phone case. I pick up the paper and take another look, now the blood is wiped up I can see the 4 white lines, the gaping showing off the exposed dermis clearly.

Standing up I pick up all the bloodied tissues and throw them into the toilet, checking to see if I accidentally got any blood anywhere in the bathroom. Satisfied all the evidence of my sins is in the toilet bowl I step into the shower, mentally bracing myself for the stinging sensation that will come when I turn the shower head onto myself.

I stand under the stream for a while, having already showered earlier I don't feel the need to wash myself again, just wiping away any of the already dried blood on my thigh. I let the slightly-too-hot water burn my back as I press my forehead against the cool shower door, the shame starting to set in. At least my head feels clearer now, calmer.

I step out and dry off, grabbing the medical kit stashed under the sink and securing a bandage over the new cuts- trying to avoid placing the tape over the assortment of scabs already present. Throwing on the joggers and the t-shirt I came in with I flush the toilet and head back out to my bunk, making sure the curtain is shut firmly behind me before transferring the blade back to its rightful place.

I make my way to the front lounge, sitting myself down next to Jack who's sprawled out over one of the couches. Matt and Zack are sat on the floor, eyes glued to the TV, and Rian's taking up the other couch, half dozing off as he tries to follow the movie. I don't recognise it, and I don't bother to ask either, it looks like it's a fair way in and I hate being the person who keeps interrupting the movie to ask people to explain what's happening.

Instead I look to Jack, flashing him a quick smile which he promptly returns before turning back to the TV.

---

I'm not sure when I dozed off but it must've been a while ago because when I open my eyes it's just me and Jack in the lounge, and the TV has been switched off.

"Hey, sorry I didn't want to wake you, you looked so tired" I hear Jack say from above me- it's only now that I realise I've been lying with my head on his shoulder. Not that that matters, we've been best friends for years, we're ridiculously comfortable around each other.

I sit upright and shift to face him, leaning my elbow on the back of the couch, still a bit groggy "When did the others head to bed?" I ask.

"I dunno, maybe an hour ago?"

"Hmm," I hum, blinking away the fog of sleep and looking around.

"So two showers tonight, huh?" Jack asks, still looking down at his phone, mindlessly scrolling through twitter. I try to sus what he's getting at, my mind instantly jumping to 'he knows', I must have taken too long to respond because he looks away from his phone for a minute and gives me a slightly puzzled look "Lex?"

"Oh, yeah! Sweaty one, small venues are so nostalgic but damn do they get hot" I finally get out, playing off the delayed response as plain grogginess, laughing a bit. Jack chuckles and goes back to scrolling, I'd hoped nobody would've noticed I took two showers- I was one of the first back on the bus so I hopped in first right after the show, despite Jack's goofiness though he can be pretty observant sometimes. I push the question out of my mind as I stand up and stretch.

"I'm gonna head to bed, I'll catch you tomorrow" I say to Jack as I start walking towards the door.

"Night Lex" Jack calls back.

"Night Jack" I reply, shutting the door behind me and slipping into my bunk.